Santa wants to give you a ride

Oh, the cheeky side of Christmas :-D

MY OPINION

Santa wants to give you a ride

Never a misunderstanding has been so scorching hot!

What happens when Nick meets his client and falls head-over-heels in lust? Rule-breaking, dirty-talking, breathtaking passion that kicks Holly's reservations to the curb. This Christmas-drenched novella is full of smutty insta-love that had me cracking with all the Santa jokes and dirty innuendos that the tattoed, rugged Nick shoots out of his sinful mouth in all directions.

Nick and Holly set fire to every page from their fist encounter, through their little heartbreak until they jingle their naughty way to a truly festive happy ending.

I wish they had an extra epilogue with more manly candy cane and lots of sweet babies in Xmas clothing :-D

Amazon

My firm has been hired to make sure Holly gets her biggest Christmas wish.
The rules are simple:

    Seduction and fantasy, and absolutely no sex.

    But, the moment I get a look at the delicious redhead all rules go out the window faster
than Santa’s sleigh on Christmas night.

    I shouldn’t touch her, but it is the season of giving, after all.


And I really want to give Holly a night we both will never forget.

    The problem is, once she wraps that sweet little tongue on my candy cane,


I want much more than just one night.

Warning:
Welcome to Jenika and Jordan’s Hot-Bite Christmas where the packages are big,
the stockings are definitely hung, and snow isn’t the only thing that gets plowed.
We’ve decided you’ve been good this year, so pull up a chair and enjoy a quick,
dirty little cup of Christmas Cheer.

ENJOY AN EXCERPT

Holly

If I hear one more Christmas carol, I’m going to hurl. That’s it. I hate this time of year. It’s cold,
it’s miserable, and people are just plain rude. I tried Christmas shopping today—I really did.
Fifteen minutes in the store with holiday music playing in the background, people pushing and
shoving, getting mowed down by shopping carts, and I was done.

Which is why I’m limping on the sidewalk, with not one shopping bag to show for my trouble.
Some woman inside the department store ran into me with her cart. She didn’t apologize; she
just huffed, like I was the one who caused the accident.

I find a bench close to the park and sit down to inspect the damage. I bend down to look at the
back of my leg and wince at what I see. My stocking is torn and there are these gigantic runs
in the nylon going up my leg. The heel of my foot is bloody and has been ripped open at the
exact spot the back of my Jimmy Choos slide against. My favorite pair of heels didn’t exactly
escape hell either. They’re scuffed and have serious damage. If I had it to do over I wouldn’t
have walked away. I would have given that lady a dirty look and thrown my shoe at her before
giving her the finger.

“Looks like you’ve been trampled by Santa’s reindeers,” a deep voice says to my right. I turn
and look at him and everything in me stills. Chills run down my back and the voice seems to
vibrate in the very center of me, sending instant awareness through me and making my body
hum with need. Which is unusual for two reasons. One, I’ve been on a break from relationship
s and men in general for the last five years. My last breakup was not good—so not good that
the thought of trusting another male scares the hell out of me. The last and most obvious
reason is the one that takes precedence, however. I don’t know this man. I don’t know him at
all and worse… He’s wearing a Santa outfit.

Great, I’ve reeled in a nut job.

“Do I know you?” I sound like a cranky old bitch right now, but I’m not in the mood for some guy
dressed up to try and get me in the holiday spirit, not matter how good looking he is.

“I’m Santa, can’t you tell?” he says, drolly.

I rest my back against the bench and look at the stranger, feeling my eyebrows lift up in
sarcastic disbelief. Yeah, he’s wearing a Santa suit, a cheesy red one that looks like it’s made
out of crushed velvet and that’s trimmed in white fake fur. I suppose that’s not strange; ‘tis the
season and all that. What doesn’t fit the part, however, is when he yanks off the beard and hat
and pulls off the white gloves, I can see that his large, masculine hands are covered in ink.

I draw my attention back to his face. Now that the fake beard is gone I see he’s sporting a black
beard with a bit of gray sprinkled in. Dark, almost obsidian eyes stare down at me. They look
intense, mocking and yet at the same time somehow bored with life. He pulls out a cigarette and
then lights it, cupping his hand against the cool New York wind.

“I don’t think Santa is supposed to smoke,” I tell him.

“Sweetheart, Santa does a lot he’s not supposed to do,” he smirks and something about that
look on his face makes my body heat.

“Whatever. You should make sure your boss doesn’t see you do that,” I mutter, annoyed because
he’s making my traitorous body react when it shouldn’t.

“Santa has no boss.”

“God, can you drop the act? I’ve about had it with Christmas and the last thing I want to do is
hear you tell me how you spend your days on the North Pole playing with your reindeer,” I
huff.

“I make the elves stroke my reindeer horns actually,” he smirks. “What’s got your panties in a
twist?”

“You mean besides being mowed over by a woman with a cart and ruining a pair of pantyhose
and my favorite pair of heels?”

“Who was she? I’ll put her on the naughty list,” he asks and at this point I just shake my head.

Who is this guy?   

“Will you give it a… What are you doing?” I feel my eyes grow big as I watch him get down on
his haunches in front of me.

“I thought that was rather obvious. I’m checking your injury out,” he murmurs, ignoring my
protest and pulling my leg up into his lap—despite me trying to pull it away.

I brace myself on the bench, because if I don’t, I’m going to end up falling to the ground. I try to
kick at him, but he holds my leg firmly, not allowing the movement.

“Will you stop? I don’t know you! And besides that, this dress is too short. You’ll have me
flashing half of New York.” My voice has risen by this point.

“Stop being dramatic. My body is completely blocking you.” He dismisses my objection and
then he looks at me—really looks at me. His eyes bore into mine, and his hand on my leg
becomes tighter, almost punishing in his hold. “Are you wearing panties?” he asks.

My body jerks in reaction. I should be repulsed. In fact, I should be panicking that a man I don’t
know, a man dressed in a Santa suit, with a cigarette trapped between his lips and his
big—huge really—ink-covered hand wrapped around my leg, is asking me if I’m wearing
panties. What I should not be is turned on. And, if my damp panties are any indication…
I am definitely turned on.   

“You did not just ask that!” I cry out, desperately trying to pull away from him. I can’t be turned
on by a stranger—a very weird, sexy as sin stranger. I cannot be talking about my panties with
said stranger and most of all, I can’t spread my legs a little wider for him.

“Black… nice,” he says almost to himself, obviously having looked at my panties. I’m not sure
how much he can see because of my pantyhose, but despite it all I feel my face heat, even
though the air has a wintery chill to it. “Damn, honey, I’d say the shopping cart won your war,”
he mumbles around his cigarette, yet somehow managing to make each word clear.

“Will you let go of my leg please?” I growl out, unable to pull away from his firm grip. I’m thinking
that what I thought might be padding to fill out the Santa suit is actually just plain muscle. If his
hands are anything to go by, he’s huge.

What is it they say about large hands again?

I squirm uncomfortably. I really shouldn’t be thinking about that at all.  

ABOUT THE MASTERMINDS

Jordan Marie

A QUIRKY WRITER GOING WHERE THE VOICES TAKE HER.
USA Today Best Selling Author Jordan Marie, is just a simple small town country girl who is
haunted by Alpha Men who talk in her head 24 hours a day.

She currently has 14 books out including 2 that she wrote under the pen name Baylee Rose.

She likes to create a book that takes you on an emotional journey whether tears, laughter
(or both) or just steamy hot fun (or all 3). She loves to connect with readers and interacting with
them through social media, signings or even old fashioned email.

Twitter  Facebook  Web Goodreads  Amazon

Jenika Snow

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their
two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon

Enjoy the Christmas spirit, book buddies :-)

Enticing story: Bought and Paid For

I couldn't resist the temptation, book buddies :-D

This silver fox looks formidable, don't you think?

Amazon

He wanted my virginity.

He wanted to own me.

I just wanted to be his.

Jackson

I wanted Megan from the moment I first saw her, and nothing would keep me from her.

I could have been called a bastard for knowing her father would fail in paying me for a mutual business agreement, for knowing I would take Megan as payment.

But she was mine and in my world, when I wanted something, I took it. And I wanted her.

She was bought and paid for, collateral damage when her father failed to uphold his end of the deal.

They all think it’s only for a week. They’re wrong.

I’m keeping her.

Megan

 My father couldn't fulfill a debt to Jackson King, but Jackson didn't seem to mind, not when he got me as his payment.

Having been attracted to the brutal businessman for years, I couldn't help but feel arousal and trepidation at what he had planned. He wanted me for a week, to do with as he pleased.

He wanted my virginity.

But I knew this was more than just repaying a debt. This was about Jackson wanting to own me, not just my body, but every part of who I was.

And the depraved part about it all was the fact that I wanted to give everything to him.

I wanted to be his.



WARNING:  This is fast and hard ride, featuring an over-the-top Alpha who fights dirty and plays dirtier. It’s a safe read, but it’s short, filthy and so hot you might need a nice, big, long, cool…drink to get you through to the happy ending.

MY OPINION

Brutally hot. These ladies know how to turn a debt into a promise of alpha possessiveness, trembling innocence and heady passion. I loved this short story with all its dominating male power from a silver fox utterly obsessed with an ethereal beauty.

He enforces a debt to be paid in the flesh of a loser's daughter. She cannot deny him, or the melting weakness she feels every time he looks at her, caresses her.

The writing focuses on his intentions to own her, his claiming, her pleasure and submission. Then the façade falls when they fall in love and luxuriate in bed time, beaches and babies. This novella is perfect to satiate your desire for a morsel of dark romance with a sweet HEA.

ENJOY AN EXCERPT

Megan

My heart was thundering, my palms sweating. I looked between my father and the man who was claiming he now owned me. I stared at my father, pissed that he would get himself into the situation, that he always seemed to f*ck up on the most monumental levels.

He wouldn't even look at me and I knew it was because he realized how bad the situation really was. With his head downcast, his gaze refusing to meet mine, I could do nothing but want to lash out at him, hurt him in the way he was hurting me right now.

I knew in that moment that he would let Jackson King take me, own my body... f*ck me.

“I'm not some piece of f*cking property,” I almost screamed out. Tears of anger raced down my cheeks, and I felt my face heat.

And then, looking calm, collected, and like he had all the time in the world, Jackson King stared directly into my eyes and smiled. His grin had a chill racing up my spine, this cold sweat covering me, and I knew I should've been afraid instead of aroused.

Jackson King was older, hell, no doubt two decades older than my own twenty-one years, with a headful of short silver and grey hair, and a beard that screamed all man. His body was big, strong, muscular, and despite the situation, he made me feel very feminine.

“Your father owes a debt, and without any funds or any collateral to make up the loss, you're what I'll be taking as his payment.” He said those words as if the deal was already done, as if I had no choice in the matter.

I didn’t know what my father had done, or why this was happening, but I knew I’d find out eventually.

Forget the fact that I’d wanted Jackson King for longer than I could remember. I didn’t “know” him, but he’d been doing business with my father for years, and I knew enough about him through the media that it was like he’d always been in my life.

I could have snorted at the fact that I would assume to know who Jackson King was.

Ever since my father started doing business with him, I’d been fascinated by the man behind the three-piece suits and the billion dollar company. I knew he was ruthless in his endeavors, and that what he wanted, he took.

I just didn't think I would be the object of his taking.

I clenched my teeth together, my anger rising, my annoyance taking over. I stared right in his eyes, not about to back down no matter how intimidating he was.

“You can't make me go with you.” I felt pride over actually saying the words and knowing I had power too. “I’m not some piece of property you can own.” But the smirk he gave me, that arrogant, all-knowing expression, had this cold feeling rushing over me.

He took a step closer but I held my ground, refusing to back down. He might be powerful in the boardroom, maybe even dominate and dictate to everyone around him, but in this instance I would not bend.

I would not submit.

And when he reached out and tipped my head back with his finger under my chin, I knew there was something inherently wrong with me. The feeling of his flesh on mine, even that small touch, had me instantly wet. I felt my nipples beading, and my inner muscles clenching painfully.

He smiled wider, flashing straight white teeth, but it was more of a predatory expression, one that told me he knew he would get exactly what he wanted no matter what.

“That's where you're wrong, Megan.” He ran his thumb along my jawline, eliciting a shiver along my arms. “You'll give me what I want because you love your father, you don’t want to see him desolate and broken, and also because...” He leaned in closer so our faces were only inches apart. The scent of his cologne was addicting, and filled my head, making me dizzy, drunk from it all. “You’ll come with me because you want me as much as I want you.”

And just like that, after he spoke those words—those very true words—I knew I would do whatever he said.

ABOUT THE MASTERMINDS

Jordan Marie

A QUIRKY WRITER GOING WHERE THE VOICES TAKE HER.
USA Today Best Selling Author Jordan Marie, is just a simple small town country girl who is haunted by Alpha Men who talk in her head 24 hours a day.

She currently has 14 books out including 2 that she wrote under the pen name Baylee Rose.

She likes to create a book that takes you on an emotional journey whether tears, laughter (or both) or just steamy hot fun (or all 3). She loves to connect with readers and interacting with them through social media, signings or even old fashioned email.

Twitter  Facebook  Web Goodreads  Amazon

Jenika Snow

Jenika Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author that lives in the northwest with her husband and their two daughters. Before she started writing full-time she worked as a nurse.

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon

Enjoy your day, book buddies :-)