My Holiday Secret: A Romantic Comedy
My Holiday Secret
A Steamy Romantic Comedy
Jackson Kane
Roxy Sinclaire
Join Jackson’s BAD GIRLS email newsletter
Join my email list for contests, cover reveals, exclusive content, and secret videos.
You’ll have private access into the world of a BAD BOY male author.
My Kandy Kanes ALWAYS see it first.
Sign up for Roxy’s mailing list
Find out about her latest releases, giveaways, and more. Plus, get a FREE book!
All rights reserved.
My Holiday Secret is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. They are not to be construed in any way. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Jackson Kane
Cover design by Cormar Covers
Edited by Kim Byrd and Julie Ahern
Special thanks:
Jackson’s beautiful PA- Harlow Kane
My Sugar Kanes: Kimando, Pepper, Red, Nerdy Ninja, Puss, Lovetiggi, Cricket, Adorkable, Poison Ivy, Jazzy, Spankalicious, The Tease, Jazzy and Shorty.
My kick ass Kandy Kanes and Kim Mullin, and Cate Hayward.
Stalk Jackson properly
Jackson's Kandy Kanes (fan group)
Email Newsletter
Goodreads
Website
Email- Jackson@JacksonKaneRomance.com
Rock on with Roxy
Please see her Author Central Account on Amazon for a full list of her titles.
Twitter: http://twitter.com/roxysinclaire
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RoxySinclaireAuthor/
Website: http://roxysinclaire.com/
Email: roxy@roxysinclaire.com
Chapter 1
Abby
My name is Abby, and believe it or not, this is a story about finding love in unexpected places. That, and surviving the holidays, which are always a fucking shit show.
“Shots! Shots! Shots! Let's go fucking crazy, bitches!” My sister, Jan, jumped on a stool at the bar and shouted with the glee of a terminal spring breaker. Her bright pink bachelorette sash slid from her shoulder as she reached over the bar to wave down—and flirt with—the handsome, if a little androgynous bartender. Jan's sash laid across the filthy bar as she leaned over it. The sash read “Last Night Unchained.”
Years from now, I'd look back and see how right that sash was...
I still couldn't believe my crazy older sister was settling down, let alone to a guy like Jeff. It might've been just because he was a lawyer, but something about Jeff just rubbed me the wrong way.
Jan's attention span was that of squirrel and she'd be the first one to admit it. She didn't do boring. I always wondered why she stuck with a guy who was duller than Harvard educated Elmer's glue.
I only ever asked her about it once, and in true Jan form, she told me she stayed with him because he had the biggest cock she'd ever seen.
In one long, practiced sweep a dozen shots of Patron were poured into waiting glasses in front of the ten drunk girls in our bachelorette party. The cute bartender with the frosted tips dipped the bottle back and poured an extra shot directly into my sister's open mouth.
“To the future January Marshal!” I toasted.
Jan swallowed her mouthful of tequila then added, “And to Mr. Marshal who is definitely carrying my drunk ass into bed tonight!”
Jan was a party monster. That was something that I'd forgotten all about in the five years since I'd left our parent's house in Boston, Massachusetts. My life these past few years in California, as a freelance writer, was quiet and deadline-driven. Alright, yeah... So it might be a little boring.
Especially after Chris left me...
So what?
That was over a month ago. The world doesn't end just because your fiancé wusses out on an apartment with you and leaves you holding the bag after you already paid the first, last and security...
Whatever. I'm over it. I just focus on work and keeping everything as light as possible. Besides, I didn't mind being by myself really!
I liked my life.
I liked my small apartment just outside L.A., and I sure as hell didn't mind the gorgeous weather. Screw seasons. My life was small, and some months I just skated by on all my bills, but I didn't answer to anyone except maybe my editors. There was always something good on Netflix, most of the time.
It was far from perfect but, for better or worse, it was all mine.
“Jesus, Abby! Get out of your head and have some fun! You better not be thinking about Chris!” Jan yelled in my ear. The music was so loud that, that was the only way to communicate. I remembered why I didn't go to clubs anymore. Fuck, me... When did I fall out of this scene? My expression soured. Abby Longmeadow here, everyone, I thought darkly, feeling very old all of a sudden. What was I? Twenty five going on eighty?
“Chris who?” I lied. “I'm having fun!” And I was. I was just a little funned out.
It was nearly midnight and we'd been partying since dusk which...being that it was December twenty third, meant it got dark at four pm! It was a crazy night, but thankfully this was our last stop. Everyone was trashed. A few of the girls in our party never even made it into this bar, they were still passed out in the duck boat out front.
Sure, I was a little drunk too, but not too bad. Tonight I was my sister's keeper. I had to make sure she got home safe. She was the only way I was going to survive the family Christmas party tomorrow night.
The duck boat... Perfectly ridiculous, but it summed up my sister to a tee. I was going to rent us a limo, but Jan refused. Instead, she somehow got us this half bus, half boat, monstrosity so we could hit up bars on both sides of the river. They only ever used these vehicles for tourist city tours, but, Jan's fiancé Jeff was some kind of city official and was able to pull some favors.
Gotta love corrupt Boston politics...
“Is it the article... Or are you thinking about how to escape before the party tomorrow?” Jan fell into the stool next to me, wobbled, but was able to grab the bar to keep from falling over. The near fall made her burst out in laughter. I joined in, too. My sister had such an infectious personality that it was impossible not to laugh when she was laughing.
Jan was the definition of a people person. It's not that I wasn't, it's just that she was way better at it. I was more of a social-in-short-doses kinda girl. But not Jan. She was always on. She made all of us wear these gaudy gold halter tops, which snagged and scratched against me when she draped an arm around my shoulder; like she always did when we were kids, and she was about to explain the how the world worked.
She, of course, had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn't matter. I just loved listening to her.
“Both,” I sighed, but the word was lost in the pounding bass of the club's music. I redoubled my effort of putting on a smile and lied through my teeth. “I'm alright!”
One of Jan's friends tried to pick up the check but the bartender waved her off, then pointed down the end of the bar to a group of three shady-looking guys.
I glanced over at the guys who picked up our large tab, to wave a thanks, and one of them kissed the air at me. My insides balled into a fist with what could only be described as a full-body cringe. I typically liked nerdy, smart, well-dressed, skinny guys who skirted the hipster line, but didn't take themselves too seriously.
Jan used to tease me about my fiancé Chris, because he fit those standards to a tee. Whenever we talked or Skyped
, she always used to jokingly ask me, “When's Chris coming out of the closet?”
“Thursday,” was my answer to her last month when she called. That of course led to me balling my eyes out and her having to spend an hour calming me down.
The guys at the end of the bar were bulky, gym bros with blown out haircuts and matching orange, designer tans that looked especially terrible in the winter. One wore sunglasses inside, another had concentric stars shaved into the side of his head, and the last was actually wearing a wife beater tank top that read “I party with sluts.”
Needless to say, these guys were probably the exact opposite of my type.
I tossed them a half wave before turning back to my sister. It was the smallest thank you gesture I could muster. The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth. We could buy our own drinks thank you very much.
“You were always a terrible liar.” Jan smiled broadly, blissfully unaware of their blatant pickup attempt. It was better that way. Jan didn't take any shit. She probably would've gone over there and bitched them out. “Tell me. If I wasn't getting married the day after Christmas would you have come home this year?”
“I'm busy!” I scrambled to come up with excuses. “Work is crazy—”
As drunk as she was, Jan still managed to raise one eye skeptically at me.
It wasn't a complete lie. I did have a deadline on a Tis’ the Season blah blah blah puff article for a magazine looming over my head. The deadline was midnight on Christmas, and I had zero ideas of what I was going to write about…which was a problem, because that article was going to be how I covered my rent this month.
“Ahh! Fine!” I gave up and covered my face, then dragged my hands through my thick red hair. The styling spray Jan let me use gave up the ghost halfway through the night which, when mixed with the winter cold, made me feel like a frizzy mess. “You're right. OK? Is that what you want to hear?”
“Of course it is, because I'm always right.” Jan put on the drunk version of her famous knowing grin. Nonie, our grandmother, told me Jan developed it when she was four, on the day she heard she was an older sister. “What did you tell them about Chris?”
I took a long sip of my drink and darted my eyes away.
“Holy fuck!” Jan scoffed and grabbed me by the shoulders. “You didn't tell them, did you? That's all Mom and Dad have been talking about this past week. They were going to finally meet your fiancé.”
Chris had a staunch, no social media condition for us to date so none of my family had ever met or even seen him. They only knew him from what I told them. Well with the exception of Jan, who flew out to visit me last year. She wasn't impressed with Chris.
“You know how they are!” Our parent's were extremely overbearing, judgmental, and controlling. It was why I fled across country after college. “You know they wouldn't have approved, just like all my other boyfriends.”
“That's because you're Daddy's little angel.” Jan slapped her hands together in mock-prayer. “Of course no one is going to be good enough for you.”
I laughed. “And Mom?”
Jan put the back of her fist on her forehead and extended her pointer and pinky finger. It was the devil horns symbol. I laughed again, this time so hard I nearly fell over. Dad was overbearing, but Mom was just kind of a bitch.
So what are you going to do?” Jan asked.
“Argh! I don't know.” I put my head on her shoulder and whined like I would only do with my sister. “Tell them the truth, I guess.”
“Are you crazy! You're just going to waste the perfect opportunity?”
“What?” I asked, getting a terrible feeling she was going to do something...Jan-like.
“I have an idea. Come on!” Jan grabbed my hand and dragged me away from the bar and into the sea of sweaty, bouncing people. “We're going to find you a new Chris!”
“I'm not going to find a new fiancé at a shitty nightclub.” I protested over the booming music, which got louder as she dragged me further into the dance floor. “This isn't exactly my scene. None of these guys are my type.”
There was nothing I could do but pout. When Jan got something into her head, she was like a force of nature. No one could stop her. It was one of the many reasons I used to look up to my sister so much. That, and her infectious personality.
“That's exactly the point, your highness. We're going to find you someone they'll absolutely hate. That way they'll never give you shit about anyone else you date. Think of this as the sacrificial lamb.” Jan cackled maniacally.
It was a ridiculously, stupid plan, but I was drunk enough to humor her. Although, getting my parents off my back about finding a nice boy for a few years was a nice thought. Even if it was far-fetched fantasy.
Jan spent the next hour dragging me around to cute, edgy-looking guys that my parents would immediately dislike. It was fun. Mostly it was just dancing and speculating. I didn't have the guts to talk to half of them. It became a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill to us.
It felt good to just cut loose and dance with my sister. We flailed and twisted to our own rhythm, and soon enough the rest of our party found us. We danced as one big clumsy mess, and we loved it. Drinks somehow magically appeared, and a few of the girls broke off to either dance with themselves or with some of the men that seemed to be everywhere.
“What about him?” Jan yelled in my ear. She pointed toward the far end of the bar, dumping half of her cocktail on the floor.
When I saw the giant of a man she was pointing to, my lips and throat went dry. He was at least six feet tall, with long hair and a full beard. With his gigantic arms crossed across his tree trunk-like chest, he leaned against the bar and scanned the room for unruly patrons. The guy looked like a lumberjack crossed with a professional wrestler, and he exuded a "don't fuck with" me vibe that made my whole body shiver.
“The bouncer?” I scoffed, sipping the drink I'd been nursing. God...the things a man like that could do to me. My skin started tingling at the thought of him holding me down and having his way with me. I'd never had a dominant boyfriend. I could only imagine what that loss of control must feel like.
“Never mind!” Jan laughed, struggling to keep her eyes open. She'd drank probably twice as much as I did. I had no idea how she was still standing. “There's no way Mom would buy you landing a guy like him.”
I immediately felt indignant. I could get a guy like him if I wanted to!
Then Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous' scan settled on me. The corner of his mouth dragged up in sexy smirk as if he knew I was talking about him. My heart stopped, and I gasped, before I could snap my gaze away.
Suddenly I was breathing heavily, like I just jumped out of the way of a speeding train. I was flush with heat from the brief interaction, and knew right away that I'd be carrying the security guard's gaze into bed with me tonight when I got home. I decided to use the bathroom to freshen up with some cool water, and to remind myself that long hair, muscles and tattoos wasn't my type.
It didn't take Jan long to reach her limit. I spotted two of her friends leading her to the door when I came out of the bathroom. My eyes hadn't adjusted back to the near pitch blackness of the rest of the dance floor. It was only made worse by the flashing strobes and the new crisscrossing spotlights that carved up and blinded the crowd.
Because of the shitty club layout, the only way I was going to get to my sister was if I pushed through the crush of flailing, jumping, and grinding people on the dance floor. The urge for fresh air was beginning to become unbearable. It was incredible how quickly the same room went from a fun, good time with Jan to spiking my anxiety.
I took a deep breath and started through the crowd when some guy stepped right in front of me. He snatched my arms just above the elbows, preventing me from crashing into him. It was so dark that I couldn't even make out who the hell I'd nearly walked into.
The small, daring part of me hoped it was that sexy bouncer.
“I'm so sorry—” I started, but stopped when the wall of che
ap cologne mixed with Jager bombs hit me. My stomach flipped, like I'd just chugged a carton of curdled milk. The smell was all around me. I couldn't escape it. It wasn't this bad on the dance floor earlier...
“Hey glitter girl! Dance with us,” yelled the man who had me by the arms. Two other forms crushed into me from either side and suddenly I was enveloped in bubble of sleaze, stink, and heat. My skin boiled with sticky, inky claustrophobia.
All I wanted was just to get out...
One of the spotlights lit my section up, and when I saw the concentric stars shaved into the side of the man's spiked blonde-dyed haircut, my heart crumbled like a discarded sheet of paper. It was the creepy, gross guys at the bar who bought us those drinks.
I tried to explain that I was with my sister and that I had to go, but the music was too loud and they weren't listening.
One of them tried to hand me a plastic cup that smelled like rum and coke...and maybe something else. Of course I refused it. There was no way in hell I was going to drink anything from these creeps. The "I party with sluts" T-shirt guy said something I couldn't hear, then tried to pour the liquid in my mouth. Someone bumped into him and half the drink splashed down the front of my top, soaking me.
“Get the fuck off!” I tried to wrench myself free, but the more I struggled the harder haircut-design squeezed me. Even through my heavy buzz and anger I could feel the liquid mat the fabric to my chest. I could also feel the pain in arms. He wasn't going to let me go.
“This party is just getting started!” the DJ's modulated voice blasted out the speaker stack. “Who's having fuuuuuuun? Let me hear you scream!”
The crowd lost their fucking minds, then everything got impossibly louder. I tried to scream for help, when I felt one of them grab my ass, but the music's beat drop hit me like a jackhammer and the volume of it all hopelessly drowned me out.
I was trapped, and completely alone, in a sea of people. And that scared the hell out of me.