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She’s definitely on Santa’s naughty list.
I’m naughty, not nice.
But when hot single mom Maci Hannah walks into my life, all I can think about is how I’d love to get her on my lap, my face, even my bed.
But, I’m not a real Santa Claus.
I’ve come back to my childhood home for the holidays.
Santa Baby is a standalone Christmas romance with loads of heat, guaranteed HEA and absolutely no cliffhangers!
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“Speech! Speech! Speech!”
“What can I say?” I asked with a laugh. I raised a flute of champagne. “I have the most kick-ass company on the planet, staffed by the most badass men and women. It’s been a wild ride these past two years. I hope you all know how much I appreciate you—”
“We love you too!” came a deep voice from the back of the room. Brandon. Forklift driver and father of a newborn baby girl.
A round of cheers soared in agreement.
We’d already celebrated the holiday with a formal dinner and the effects of the last four hours with access to an open bar were starting to shine through. Not that I minded. As far as I was concerned, every face staring back at me had out-earned the right to a night of letting off some serious steam. And what better time than on the last day of work before the holiday break.
“I want you all to stay as long as you want! Eat, drink, get your asses handed to you in Whirly Ball with Franklin and Merve from IT. And then I want you all to get out of here and I don’t wanna see you until January third. I know we have back orders we can’t fill until February, but I don’t want you to worry about that anymore. We’ve got a system in place. It’s time to trust it and enjoy the spoils of success! It’s Christmas time and all of you deserve to take a rest to be with your families. Take a minute to reflect on what you—we—have done to the tech world and enjoy the holiday. Got it?”
“You’re the best!”
I raised my glass a little higher and everyone raised a glass in reply. “Thank all of you!”
I stayed a minute longer, watching everyone open the gifts and envelopes I’d given them and the looks on their faces were of sheer joy.
As I continued down the hall toward my office, I heard Joe from the production department talking to somebody—probably his wife—on the phone about the new sports car he was going to order. He’d been working his ass off for the last year and a half, so I gave him a sweet little bonus. The company wouldn’t be where it is today without him.
It felt good.
Livia Tech was a monster and I was proud to be the one holding the leash.
I headed out to the parking lot and got into my brand new 2018 Challenger. This car was my baby. Six point four liter, four hundred eighty-five horses under the hood and it could haul some serious ass. Most men in my position drove big ass luxury cars—or sweet fast sports cars—but not me. I loved good ol’ American muscle.
I stopped and turned around. Samantha Perkins, a busty brunette who had joined the marketing department five months earlier. “Yes, Samantha?”
She held out a piece of paper. “I think you made a mistake. This check is huge. It’s like. . .it’s $15,000.”
“Yeah, I know it is. I signed it. What’s the problem?”
“I just don’t think I deserve this. I barely started working here . . .”
I smiled at her. “You work at Livia Tech, don’t you?”
“Then, the check is really yours. Now go see if you can go out there and kick some ass in the Whirly Ball competition!”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawson. You have no idea what this means to me! Merry Christmas!”
“What would be the fun of being the boss if I can’t pay it forward?” I flashed a smile. “Have a Merry Christmas, Samantha.”
I smiled after her as she hurried on too high of heels back into the sprawling, high-tech office building occupied by Livia Tech and a few other tech start-ups. I never mixed business and pleasure but sometimes I wished HR would stop hiring such gorgeous women. It was certainly making it hard to keep that boundary in place.
Not that finding a date was a hard thing to do. I’d always had the looks, now I had the money. More than I knew what to do with. And yet, even with those things in place, I was flying home to my parents’ house without someone sitting in the window seat beside me.
“Here’s what I don’t understand, Dad. I’d be the one footing the bill. You could be in there, sipping a cold one, watching a ball game. Wouldn’t cost you a thing.”
“It’s tradition,” my father argued with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “Every year since you and Jamie were little we’ve been putting up Christmas lights and since you were five, you were my little helper.”
I smiled and shook my head. I’d already lost the half-hearted battle. Truth was I didn’t mind helping him with the lights. Sure, it was bare-ass cold outside and the lights were a nightmare to untangle, but it was a nice change of pace from my busy life back in LA. Life in the sleepy suburban pocket of Minneapolis was slow and easy. There weren’t a thousand emails screaming for my attention, conference calls, video chats, and an onslaught of decisions to make. I’d slept in until nine-thirty, had a huge pancake breakfast, and enjoyed a cup of coffee sprawled on the sofa without interruption for nearly an hour.