She wants off the Nice List. He owns the Naughty List. Christmas Eve has never been so sexy. Jack, the outcast cousin of the Claus family, has one job within the Realm of Christmas. He's in charge of the Naughty List. Distributing coal, emptying stockings, returning gifts, that's his bag - but it does have its perks. Some of the women on the List wait up for him on December 24th and he makes sure to deck their halls with every visit.
Cadence Harris did everything right in her life. Played by the rules, dated the "good" boys, said the right things, worked at the right job. But this year for Christmas, she wants something entirely different. She wants off the Nice List and in a big way. Never in her wildest dreams can she imagine what's in store when Jack pays her an accidental visit.
The night will prove that Santa always delivers.
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EXCERPT:
“Oh, hell no.” Jack Claus shook paper confetti out of his hair as the celebration raged around him. Countless elves and the few humans allowed into the North Pole compound congratulated his pudgy cousin Kris Claus on his recent promotion—the one Jack wanted. “The bastard did it to me again.”
From his vantage point at the back of the dining hall, he watched with narrowed eyes as his red-haired relative stood on one of the dinner tables and began an impromptu speech.
God, he’d rather be anywhere except stuck here at Christmas headquarters on the eve of the ’big flight’. Now, apparently when all eyes would be on Kris’s famous father, Jack would be employed as clean up boy, making sure the folks on the Naughty List didn’t accidentally come into possession of Christmas bounty.
“I can’t watch this.” Slipping through the crowds, he exited the dining hall. His chest heaved with all the rage he’d ever felt while around his cousin. “Passed over again.” Jack kicked the closed door then cursed when it opened minutes later to admit Kris. “You just had to show me up one more time, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yet a wide smile wreathed Kris’s cherubic face. “I’ve worked toward this promotion for years.” He walked along the hall, weaving in between several worker elves and singing out greetings as he went.
Kris was the conservative of them, always assessing the risk in every situation, never doing anything remotely exciting and always had his nose to the grindstone—the perfect prince of Christmas. Hell, the man wore suits every freaking day, tucked shirt, belted pants, always starched and pressed. Jack snorted. He doubted the guy had lost his virginity even though he’d recently passed his thirtieth birthday—a day before Jack's, of course.
“Don’t walk away from me like I don’t matter.” I’m the same age as Starchy Pants yet I’ve had more fun than he’ll ever experience.
His gut clenched. No way would he admit the ‘fun’ only filled him up so far. At the end of the day, he had no one waiting for him, nothing substantial to look forward to after the last high, and nothing that would leave a legacy.
Who needs it?
“I’m not having this conversation if you’re going to bully me about the job.”
Not nearly done, Jack chased after his relative as a hot wave of anger crashed over him. “You knew I wanted that promotion but you marched in, charmed the merit board, and bingo! You got my job.” His whole life he’d been butting heads with his cousin, competing for everything from jobs, girls and the attention of the one Klaus who ran the gig at the North Pole.
“No, I made every benchmark at my last job, showed up to every function here at the Pole and took the time to remember each and every name of all the elves in the workshop. I showed an interest, Jack.” Kris yanked open a carved wooden door at the end of the hall and slipped into the workshop. "What have you done?"
Jack followed. He had zero interest in the flurry of activity at the work tables or the carefully orchestrated packing in preparation for the night’s flight. “I have other interests.” A cute intern passed him, and he couldn’t resist taking a second peek at her tight ass in the short, green-velvet skirt. “Still, I made no secret of wanting that position. The least you could have done was put in a good word.”
“Actually, I did the least. I said and did nothing; let you wallow in your own merit.” Kris’s chuckle was an exact copy of his father’s deep, booming laugh. “Just admit it. You don’t care about the franchise like I do. I’m a junior Sleigh Maker now. It’s one step from Toy Designer, two from Workshop Manager and three from Christmas Eve Navigator. Give me ten years, and I’ll convince Dad to let me fly solo.”
“Well, at least you’re a consistent prick.”
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