His First Time: Nick: His First Time

By Ann Omasta and Callie Love

I've been called a womanizing jerk too many times to count.

Perhaps it's true, but I like my life just the way it is.

Will one night as Santa change my beautifully wicked world?

 

I'm Nick Wallace. You've probably never heard of me. But if you have, I'll brace myself for the incoming slap.

 

My older brother is the famous race car driver, Beau Wallace. Yes, that Beau Wallace. Nothing I do will ever top him, so I gave up trying a long time ago. I'm the screw-up of our family, and I've learned to accept it.

 

When I get tricked into playing Santa Claus for a charity event, I decide I'll make the most of it by spending a steamy night of passion in a lonely single-mom's bed.

 

Freckle-faced Tyson and his gorgeous, skittish mother, Kelsey, are trying to wiggle their way inside my ice-cold heart, but even the real Santa couldn't create that kind of Christmas miracle.

 

Will a special Christmas wish help Nick find true love, or is he already too far gone for holiday magic to work? Find out now in His First Time: Nick.

 

The Hot Shots of Romance Quickies are scorching stories featuring sexy heroes, curvy heroines, seductive insta-love, sizzling bedroom scenes, and satisfying happily-ever-after endings. Start anywhere. Binge-read them all. Grab Nick now and enjoy a perfectly-portioned taste of steamy romance to satisfy your craving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: More Happily Ever Afters
• Release date: Oct 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393114765

Ann Omasta

Ann Omasta is a USA Today bestselling author.  Ann’s Top Ten list of likes, dislikes, and oddities: I despise whipped cream. There, I admitted it in writing. Let the ridiculing begin. Even though I have lived as far south as Key Largo, Florida, and as far north as Maine, I landed in the middle. If I don't make a conscious effort not to, I will drink nothing but tea morning, noon, and night. Hot tea, sweet tea, green tea––I love it all. There doesn't seem to be much in life that is better than coming home to a couple of big dogs who are overjoyed to see me. My other family members usually show significantly less enthusiasm about my return. Singing in my bestest, loudest voice does not make my family put on their happy faces. This includes the big, loving dogs referenced above. Yes, I am aware that bestest is not a word. Dorothy was right. There's no place like home. All of the numerous bottles in my shower must be lined up with their labels facing out. It makes me feel a little like Julia Roberts' mean husband from the movie Sleeping with the Enemy, but I can't seem to control this particular quirk. I love, love, love finding a great bargain! Did I mention that I hate whipped cream? It makes my stomach churn to look at it, touch it, smell it, or even think about it. Great––now I'm thinking about it. Ick! ** I would LOVE to send you a free copy of my novella, Aloha, Baby! Visit annomasta.com for details. ** Stay up-to-date on new releases and insider info by liking / following Ann: - Facebook: facebook.com/annomasta - Goodreads: goodreads.com/annomasta - Bookbub: bookbub.com/authors/ann-omasta - Website: annomasta.com

Book preview

1

NICK

What is it in my personality that makes me unable to say ‘no’ to a pretty woman? All Charlotte does is beam a wide smile at me and flutter her long, lush lashes and suddenly I’m wearing a stuffy red suit, playing Santa Claus for a bunch of squirmy, smelly kids.

The truly perplexing thing is, Charlotte isn’t even available. She’s madly in love with a huge dude, whom I do not want to fight––at all. Even knowing there is zero chance of having sex with her, I become mesmerized by her beauty and the next thing I know I am here, donning this ridiculous costume.

I blame my brother, Beau. He’s the one who volundrafted me for this, and I wasn’t able to weasel my way out of it before Charlotte dazzled me into obeying her wishes.

Rumor has it that she has this kind of power over many. She even convinced Beau and his wife, Fiona, to get an older dog. Their fancy, pristine, and magazine-worthy house on Geist Reservoir isn’t set up for dogs or kids, but they adopted a black lab mix, Boo, and Fiona is about ready to pop with their first baby. So, I guess it’s happening––whether the house can withstand the messy influx or not.

Charlotte is bustling around the banquet hall working on finishing touches for her charity fundraiser. I’m not usually attentive to such things, but even I have to admit that the glimmering, twinkling lights and sparkling fake snow draping the room make the normally bland space look like a winter wonderland.

When Charlotte brings me a bedraggled boxer in a red and green elf costume with jingle bells attached and tries to hand me the leash, I finally put my foot down with her.

I don’t really like dogs, I tell her, crossing my arms and refusing to accept the looped handle of his hunter-green leash that she’s holding out to me.

He’s not a dog. He’s Twinkle, your elf helper for the evening. Turning to the animal, Charlotte pooches out her shiny lips and says, Aren’t you, sweet boy?

The dog angles his large brown eyes around so far that the white shows as he looks up at me, silently begging for help.

I scrunch my face up at the ridiculous woman and splutter. Twinkle? What kind of a name is that for a manly beast, like this?

It’s just his name for tonight. You can change it after you take him home with you, she assures me as she hands me the leash.

Something about that blasted woman has me nodding my head in agreement with the ridiculous statement. She’s already speed-walking away when I realize she has mesmerized me again. She left the dog with me and insinuated that I’ll be adopting him.

Hey, I’m not keeping this dog. I am not a dog person. I yell after her, but she keeps right on walking as if she doesn’t hear me.

Shaking my head before turning to look down at the animal, I say sternly, "You can keep me company during this function, but I am not taking you home with me."

The animal blinks solemnly up at me.

My apartment is too small for a big dog like you. You would hate it. Besides, I don’t even know if my landlord would allow it.

The dog’s soulful eyes continue staring up at me, practically hypnotizing me.

Suddenly realizing that I’m having a full-blown conversation with an animal, I look around