Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 14955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
It’s been the week from hell. Taking over the small family-owned toy factory and the patents to their wildly popular doll line seemed like a good idea months ago. On paper, the company is the perfect acquisition. In reality, the whole ordeal is driving me nuts. The small town’s residents aren’t happy about a big corporation buying their claim to fame, and they’re coming up with inventive ways to make my life hell, hoping to run me and my company out of town.
This business deal is a massive pain in my mistletoe. I’m about to cut my losses and head back home where no one calls me a citified Scrooge jerk when I find one very good reason to stay, Noelle St. Nick. One look at Santa’s curvy little helper and I forget all about leaving.
My plans have changed, and I’m going to stay and fight to win her heart. Hopefully, Santa will bring me what I want for Xmas—my own little naughty elf on a shelf.
If you like billionaire, grumpy/sunshine, curvy girl, older man, and younger woman romance, this Loni Ree short instalove is the book for you!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Grey
“I’d rather have toothpicks jabbed under my fingernails.” That’s a goddamn understatement. I grab my suit coat and follow Easton, my business partner, out the door of my temporary office. We’re headed to hell. Literal hell. Every moment I spend in this tiny fucking town seems like an eternity.
“You’re trying to soothe ruffled feathers,” he reminds me as we walk down the deserted hallway. “And the best way to do that is by attending the company-sponsored Christmas party. Even if it sucks.”
I hate to admit it, but he’s right. Fucking hell. The last thing I want to do is show up at the goddamn party, but I don’t have a choice. Closing this deal is going to drive me to drink.
My advisers really screwed the pooch on this deal. After Santa’s Shoppe’s owner died without an heir, the residents in Blue Spruce, Ohio, have worried about the future of the town’s largest employer. My acquisition advisors assured me that buying Santa’s Shoppe would stabilize the small town’s economy while making me lots of money. The fuckers promised me an easy transaction. Unfortunately, they underestimated the small town’s dislike of outsiders. My first meeting with the town council was a fucking nightmare. I walked into a goddamn ambush.
“There shouldn’t be ruffled feathers,” I growl, pissed off at the reception we’ve received. What should’ve been an easy in-and-out job turned into a constant fight with the locals. “We’re saving the largest employer in town, not burning it to the ground.”
An hour ago, I was sitting in my temporary office, looking forward to the end of the day from hell. Now, I’m about to attend this fucking Christmas party with a bunch of assholes who’d like to run me and my company out of town. God, I need a drink. A strong fucking drink.
The sound of Christmas carols hits us as we head down the back staircase. “Just smile and ignore the death threats,” Easton teases, but the situation isn’t funny. After announcing our plans for Santa’s Shoppe, I expected a warm welcome. We’re planning to keep all the employees and expand the business. I walked into a routine meeting with the city officials
“It’s hard to ignore it when the mayor threatens to hang you by your citified Scrooge private parts.” I shudder to myself, remembering the meeting from hell.
“It could’ve been worse,” Easton tells me as we walk into the company cafeteria. Holy shit. It looks like a fucking Christmas tree exploded in here. I rub the back of my neck and paste a fake ass smile on my face.
“I don’t see how,” I grit out through my smile as one of the town’s most vocal assholes walks up to us.
“Mr. Woodward.” Bob Edwin, the nightshift factory manager and all-around fucking weasel, spits out my name like it’s a fucking curse before turning to Easton. “And Mr. Ritchie.” My partner doesn’t fair any better. The assholes in this town are nuts. “We’re so happy you could take time out of your insanely busy schedules to grace our little Christmas party.” This motherfucker looks anything but happy.
“We’re happy to be here,” Easton tells him, and the little bastard has the nerve to roll his goddamn eyes.
“Make sure to get a cup of our world-famous punch.” Bob points to the table set up in the corner. “And you can get your picture taken with our Santa,” the little fucker mumbles, but I tune him out. Easton taps me on the back and signals for us to move.
I glance around the crowded room, wondering how long we have to stay at this party when my eyes stop on her. The floor drops out beneath my feet while my heart stops in my chest. The room darkens around me as the music disappears, and I lock my knees. There’s a curvy little elf standing next to the massive Christmas tree. She’s fucking breathtaking. I immediately know her stunning body was made just for me and me alone.