A Very Merry Alpha Christmas: A Holiday Romance Box Set

by Logan Chance

  “That sounds like a dream.”

  “Is that a yes?” He grins.

  I gaze up at him. “Yes. I’d go anywhere with you.”

  “You hated me yesterday.” He laughs. “It’s amazing how fast life changes, isn't it?”

  “I didn’t know you yesterday,” I argue. “But today I’m grateful that I do. And I want to just keep learning more. I want to know the real North Caspian.”

  His eyes squint a little. “Well, the real North Caspian has never dated a girl with strict convictions of animals being treated a certain way, so that’s going to take some time to iron out. Although I’m totally down. I have no issues with it, just never really gave it the kind of thought I should have.”

  “Just promise me you’ve never been on one of those trips to kill elephants or lions as a trophy hunter.”

  “What?” He laughs. “Seriously?”

  “Say the words, Caspian.”

  North smiles, curling my hair behind my ear. “I swear to God, or whatever you believe in, Holly, that I’d never even consider such a thing.”

  “Good.”

  “Still love me then?” He winces as soon as he says it. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s ok.” I tremble. “And yes, I still love you.”

  His dark eyes soften. “Holly . . .” he kisses me and his lips tell me everything, but he still confirms it. “I love you, too.”

  “Oh, North,” I gently pull away. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

  “Anything,” he whispers back.

  “Promise me that you will never buy any real fur again in your life.”

  He breaks out into laughter. “I, North Caspian, swear to only buy faux fur from here on out. I am now a faux fur kind of man.”

  “Forever and ever,” I add.

  He gazes at me, his eyes shining. “Forever and ever.”

  Epilogue

  North

  Four years later

  I’ve seen so many things in my life. I’ve been to almost every corner of the earth. I’ve met some of the most incredible people and been to the most exclusive spots known to man. I’ve lived a life of privilege and wonderment. I’ve been like a kid in a candy store most of my existence. But, I’ve never felt that I truly had a place of my own. I never knew what purpose felt like. I only knew how to serve the needs, dreams, and desires of other people. It wasn’t until meeting Holly Winterbourne that all of that changed for me.

  At first, becoming a lover, a partner to someone was the biggest part of that change. I had to learn not to be so selfish with my time and needs. I had to learn how to be sensitive to a woman who needed a man who could come down from the clouds and try to wrap my head around the things that meant everything to her. I didn’t have to change me per se, I just had to evolve, to grow, to mature. That is the part I think a lot of men like me don't always understand. It’s not about becoming someone else when you love a woman, it’s about becoming a better version of yourself. She fell in love with me at my worst. She married me at my best. And now...now we have come full circle.

  I stand at the front door and I’m not a man who gets nervous about much, if anything at all, but right now I’m practically trembling. It’s been years since I have stood in this spot on Christmas. We have been hopping around the globe ever since we ran away together four years ago. We fell in love in the Virgin Islands. I married her in the Greek Isles. We created life in Rome. And I have kissed her under endless stars.

  A square pane of glass is all that separates us from the beginning of our life together. The day I first saw her, I had to take an extra measured breath just to be sure she was real as I stared at the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. In a shop full of trinkets and treasures, she somehow made herself stand out. She was not only so fucking good looking but she had a soul to match. She was kind to the worst clients we ever hosted. She kept her cool. She dealt with me and all my bullshit. And yet, four years later, this is where she wants to come back to for Christmas.

  She has a box in her hands and she turns the key on the door. The sound of it unlocking feels like starting up a time machine. My chest feels more frozen than the fucking wind blowing across my face. I don’t miss the snow and I damn sure don’t miss this place.

  But as soon as the door swings open, my world shifts again. Because this time I’m not seeing things through my eyes. I’m not hearing the wants and needs of bratty little fucking kids that beg for the most outrageous shit a kid could ever ask for. Instead, I’m mesmerized by a shop filled with the kinds of things my own eyes remember being dazzled by at Christmas, every time I’d swing that door wide and run into my father’s store.

  He yelled at me, of course he fucking did, but I still loved coming here. I loved finding all the new things. I loved trying to figure it all out. And that’s what I see now as I watch our son, River, rush through the doorway and gasp at the inside of what was once my dreamland and nightmare all at once.

  I haven’t been back to the shop since I last locked the door. Holly runs everything now. I’ve sold off most of the things my father found. There’s only a small collection of items I kept, like some of the snow globes. I always loved them. It was the one thing my father did right. He always remembered to give me something. Something that was just for me. And through the years I’ve learned to start forgiving him. To forgive myself. And to let go of what held a firm grip on my heart so I could reclaim it and give it to someone else. So that I could grow a heart big enough for her. And then for River.

  Unlike my father, I couldn’t give a shit if River explores the shop and ruins something he touches. These things are meant to be explored, that’s the entire purpose of discovering something great. Otherwise, what’s the point?

  I make my way back to the place I used to love to hide the most.

  As a kid, I liked sitting under the desk, at my father’s feet as he made calls and unwrapped things, talking to himself about what it all meant.

  As a man, I liked sitting in his chair, feeling powerful and pretending like that’s all that fucking mattered in the whole fucking world. I liked lying to myself. Today the office looks much different, although there are a few things Holly has kept intact from my days of reigning here as king.

  She kept the ledge that housed the snow globes. Except now the snow globes have been replaced with picture frames of our family. The snow globes I didn’t keep we donated to a museum for children, with most of the other items from my father’s collection. I wanted everyone to be able to enjoy the things that were discovered, not just the privileged few, and not just kids who were lucky enough to come from those kind of parents. Everyone should be able to see the magic. Everyone should be able to witness the wonders of this world, in all their epic, flawless forms.

  I run my hands over the desk. She kept it the same too. “Now this brings back memories.” I kind of laugh as I smile at her.

  She grins as she moves closer. “I have no idea what you mean.” Holly palms the wood and bends so her perfect round ass is pushed out.

  I smack my hand lightly to her ass and grin back at her. “You’re so fucking lucky we’re not alone.”

  “You realize he’s never going to leave that front room, right?” She grabs my tie and leans up on her toes, kissing me. “We’re basically alone. As alone as two parents are lucky enough to get.”

  I wrap my arms around her waist. “You’re all keyed up remembering how much of a prick I was to you here. I don’t know if that’s a good thing, love.”

  She laughs at me. “I’m all keyed up thinking about how much I wanted you to bend me over your desk and f-u-c-k me.”

  “You spelled it out,” I chuckle at her. “You’re such a mom, Holly.”

  “And you’re a DILF and I want to FFFFFFF.” I crack up at her making the “f” sound only.

  “I love you, Holly Caspian,” I say to her. “And I will F the S out of you as soon as we get home. I promise.”

  “Forever and
ever?” She asks, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  I try not to grin, but I can’t fucking help it. It’s too horrible of a joke. But I have to say it anyhow. “Forever and ever, with my New York footlong weiner.”

  She falls into me laughing.

  I hate the fucking joke so much. It was corny and everything I never wanted to be, but that day, somehow in my office, she turned the hard shell of a man who would have gone more than two days without even thinking about vital necessities such as food or a soul into something that suddenly meant the world to me. So, little things like enjoying a moment in time, a damn hot dog from a street vendor, a snow globe I had not looked at in years out of fear of feeling something, and looking at someone—really looking into their eyes and seeing them, became the biggest moments of my life. Because the day those things changed, so did I. And I’m better for it.

  Because of her.

  So, do silly things. Don’t be afraid to let a pretty girl in. Fall in love with her and then for the rest of your short time here on earth, spend it making memories, and even, really bad jokes. Because no one gets out alive, and everyone is given the same twenty-four hours in a day. It’s not about what you collect in that time. It’s not about who you dream of being. It’s about who you will spend that time with. The time is a gift, and the people you choose to spend it with are the real treasures.

  AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading.

  The fun isn’t over yet, keep scrolling for a sneak peek of my brand new romantic comedy COLD HEARTED BASTARD- Available Now!!

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  Cold Hearted Bastard Sneak Peek

  NOW A TOP 100 AMAZON BESTSELLER

  From USA Today bestselling author Logan Chance comes a laugh-out-loud comedy centered around a zany kindergarten teacher and the insane antics she goes through to meet a smokin' HOT firefighter.

  Five Things. That’s the title of the video I’m watching. Each day, a social media coordinator picks a fireman from the Hightower Hills Fire Department to interview, and she asks him ‘five things’ about himself that the community may not know. I keep rewinding back to the man of my desire—Corbin Carmack.

  If you ask me five things about myself that people may not know, it would go a little something like this:

  1. I love a man with brown eyes.

  2. I’ve never wanted a stranger as much as I do him.

  3. I’m going to extremes that could get me tossed in jail just to steal glimpses of him.

  4. For the last two months I’ve blown off friends, family, and everything in between just to stay up late at night and watch this video as I pleasure myself to sleep.

  5. I set my house on fire to meet him.

  In my defense, I never meant for there to be so much smoke. And I never meant to pass out before my firefighter hero could save me.

  But, looks can be deceiving, and this firefighter is nothing like he portrays on social media. In fact, he’s much worse. He’s a cold-hearted bastard and I hope I never have to see him again.

  But I do.

  Because now he seems to appear everywhere I go. And I can’t get enough.

  “Corbin And Olivia Are Setting The World On Fire! This is absolutely one of my favorite reads all year. I laughed so hard out loud that I forgot where I was and had people look at me strangely.” Cheryl, Goodreads Reviewer

  Corbin, he is just everything you would want in a sexy, arrogant fireman! Cocky, swoony.... just smokin!” Meghann, Meg Talks Romance Novels

  Cold Hearted Bastard is the second book in the Cold Hearted Series. Other titles include Cold Hearted Baller, a deliciously addictive sports romance that features a brooding hero and a strong female lead.

  If you love relatable, sassy heroines with mysterious gorgeous heroes then you will love this fast-paced page-turning romantic comedy.

  Grab your copy of this fresh new standalone today!

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  Cold Hearted Baller Sneak Peek

  Read on for the first chapter of Cold Hearted Baller, Book One in the Cold Hearted Series.

  I have three superstitions I live by:

  1. No dating all season.

  2. Don’t jinx a no-hitter while one’s in progress.

  3. Be cold-hearted. If you find something you think about more than baseball, destroy it.

  Calliope Thomas is one of those things. Ever since she left a bad review on the Max Energy Drink I endorse, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Obviously, when she said she hoped I had a losing season, I had to meet her and get her to take the words back.

  Now, she’s making me do insane things. Like, obsess over the color of her panties or if I can make her blush. Read superstition one—I don’t do this sort of thing.

  I play ball, not chase after a woman I barely know.

  But, I am, and she wants nothing to do with me.

  She thinks I’m the devil.

  And I have to say she makes me want to sin.

  I’m becoming a borderline stalker.

  And to make matters worse she’s affecting my game.

  I can’t pitch.

  I can’t hit.

  I can’t focus.

  Something needs to give, and it won’t be me.

  Chapter One

  Calliope

  My veins are going to explode. I scan the list of ingredients in the Max Energy drink I consumed this morning, checking to see if drugs are listed. They aren’t.

  With a move I imagine is worthy of Maxwell Hunter, the star pitcher who endorses it, I wind my arm back and rocket the sleek silver can across the conference room of Mayhem Marketing. It thunks against the cream-colored wall and lands with a thump inside the small trash can.

  “Yesss,” I exclaim as the door opens.

  “They’re ready for you, Calliope,” Rita, assistant to the man who’s going to hire me to cater all of his marketing company’s functions, informs me with a furrowed brow.

  He hasn’t actually agreed to hire me yet, but he will, because according to the energy drink ‘It’s winning in a can.’

  “Let’s do this, Rita,” I nearly squeal, ping-ponging around the room where I’ll be serving the King and his court various items I’ve created. “I’m going to win them over with my baking skills.”

  “You ok?” she asks, at half the speed I seem to be talking.

  I give her two very animated thumbs up, feeling like my arms are going to shoot off to the ceiling.

  “Yes.” I smooth my hands down the long length of my hair, from root to bottom. The usually heavy brown locks feel like they’re standing on end. I need to calm down, but I can’t. I feel electrified. Times one hundred.

  She moves to the corner of the room as Tobias Longwood, grey-haired owner of Mayhem Marketing, enters, followed by two men in suits. My heart rate accelerates to an unnatural rhythm. I’m not sure if it’s the energy drink or the fact I’ve been dreaming about this opportunity for such a long time. If I can land this account, I’ll finally have the extra money to expand my cafe. Thanks to Max Energy, that thought makes me extra excited.

  “Miss Thomas, hello,” Tobias greets me. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I respond a little too loud over the pulse in my ears, giving his outstretched hand several vigorous pumps.

  His brow furrows just like Rita’s did, and I try to dial it down a notch, but my dial is broken.

  It can’t be normal that my lips tingle when I smile as Tobias introduces me to the two execs who will help decide my fate about whether or not I’ll be hired.

  While the people I’m here to impress take a seat at the rectangular table, I chatter, uncontrolla
bly, about my creations and with jittery hands remove the rich chocolate cake adorned with the Mayhem logo from its box.

  “Looks delicious,” Tobias compliments me as I move closer at warp speed.

  My feet walk faster than my heels can keep up, and instead of placing my showpiece in the center of the table, the cake somehow teeters amidst a chorus of gasps to end up a ganache mess... right in Tobias’ lap. All three layers.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologize, staring at the broken lump on his groin.

  “Are you on drugs?” he asks with a pinched face, looking down at the red Mayhem logo smeared on his pristine white shirt.

  “No,” I deny, “I can explain.” My eyes dart at a rapid pace to the shocked expressions on the other faces seated at the table.

  “You get one shot here. That was yours. Thank you for coming in, Miss Thomas.”

  “It was an energy drink—Max Energy—by that famous baseball player,” I tell him, because like he said, this is my one shot. “Listen, whoever marketed that as success in a can should be fired.”

  As he removes a lump of cake from his soiled trousers into the garbage can Rita retrieved, he informs me, “We designed that campaign.”

  The room is silent as I pack my things and go. All of my dreams follow me out the door. I'm too high on Max Energy to be depressed.

  I have no one to blame but myself. And Maxwell Hunter, the man behind the drink.

  When I get home, I drop my purse on the kitchen counter and beeline straight for the fridge. On the top shelf, next to the milk, sit the remaining cans of Max Energy. I tilt one of the tall cylinders and read the tiny black font:

  Max Energy will give you that extra you need to reach your goals. It’s winning in a can.