Filthy Scrooge

Filthy Book 1

Making deals is my specialty. And tonight, my terms are…her.

I hate Christmas. For years, I’ve avoided the holiday entirely.

Until Kandy Kane enters my life—the same seductive mystery woman I danced with at a club last night. When she shows up at my company the next day as our Christmas party planner, she’s desperate for help with her little problem.

My hot elf in striped tights needs a last-minute Santa.

And I need her. In every way possible. And this time, she’s not going to run. Alone in my remote cabin for the weekend, she’s going to be mine in every way she knows and a few she doesn’t.

Except she’s hiding a secret. So am I.

She’s a virgin.

And I’m the bastard who is going to ruin her for any other man…unless she ruins me first. While Filthy Scrooge is a standalone short novel that can be read without reading any other story, you never know when characters from our other books may show up.

1

Kay

“If you don’t get out on that dance floor, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” I tugged at my short red velvet skirt. Mel had convinced me to schlep all the way to Brooklyn to go to this club, the least I could do was get my dance on. I missed it. Working seventy hour weeks had killed any extracurricular activities in my life. Starting my own company was worth it, dammit.

There’d been a time when a club had been my favorite outlet. I could lose myself in the colors, the music, the anonymity of it all. This place—Purgatory—lived up to its name in every way. It was in between in all ways that mattered. Depending on the day, the center of the huge building could be a dance club or concert venue. Outside was a sidewalk cafe with a garden straight out of England.

I could let the wilder side of me free.

I didn’t have to be Kandy Kane here, with all that sugary name implied. Most of the time I loved it. Hell, I made my career around my name.

Here, I was just Kay.

I didn’t have to make decisions or give orders.

I could feel a man’s hands on my skin without the promise of anything more.

The lights flared, then dimmed. A wash of purple and red swirled over the crowd turning everyone the same hue—cool and hot at the same time. The lights and the dancers pulsed as the low beat of the song ebbed and flowed.

I felt an answering echo in my lower belly.

Bad sign.

“There she is.”

I threw a narrow-eyed-glare at my best friend and assistant. She knew me far too well. “One dance.”

Her glossy red lips lifted at one corner before she wrapped her lips around her straw. “Sure. I’ll be here, drinking my courage.”

“And you expect me to just go on out there?”

“Yes. Go let loose.”

I flicked my heavily curled hair over my shoulder and took a deep breath. It was just like riding a bike.

I glided into the crush of people. Instinct took over as the music infused into the marrow of my bones. There was no expectation. No one knew me. So I let go. The watery undertones of the song urged my hips into soft, fluid circles. This was exactly what I needed. As usual, Mel had been right.

I found my spot in the center of the crush of people. I ignored the bump of strangers, and the dancers who thought they were far more talented than they were. I let my gaze drift to the whirling lights above me as the tension in my shoulders melted away.

My body became one with the underlying beat of the song. The heartbeat. I could find it in any piece of music. A Christmas carol, a hymn, a rap song, a country tune—it didn’t matter. There was always heart to a good song.

Once I found it, everything else fell into place.

I slipped my fingers into my hair and let the dreamy music take me away. Clubs often extended the song with remixes and I chased the rhythm. My breath raced as the song built up and spun out.

Eyes were on me.