Sleighing the Billionaire: Mountain Peak Series, #2

By Brie Wilds

Holly Kraner wasn't looking for a man, but one fell into her lap.

 

The blue-eyed man dressed in a Santa suit asking for donations turned out to be her boss, billionaire Brad Marshal, founder, and CEO of Marshal Novelty Inc.

 

A hunk who's doesn't know Holly existed and, whose escapades precede him, out of the blue, wants her to be his personal Mountain Peak tourist guide.

 

What type of private tourist guide does he have in mind?

 

Her wild days were behind her. She was no longer that carefree-anything goes, girl.

Against her better judgment, they explored the resort town together on an assignment for Marshal Novelty Inc.

Proximity does not discriminate. Spend enough time with some sexy guy, and you're bound to be swept off your feet.

Holly fought it.

He was her playboy boss.

There was no reason for her to chance a heartbreak with him.

But her heart didn't get the memo. 

She was all in.

As her shield started to come down, the rug was yanked from underneath her. Her sexy billionaire disappointed her.

He broke her heart

Can Brad redeem himself and mend her broken heart?

SLEIGHING THE BILLIONAIRE, Book #2 in the Mountain Peak Series, is a Contemporary Billionaire Holiday Romance from Author Brie Wilds.
It's a novel about office romance, love, breakup, make-up, and the beauty of intimacy. It's about billionaires, office romance, young love, deep hurt, and the Christmas holiday. It has no cliff-hanger, with a happily ever after ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruttish Press
• Release date: Nov 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781635897371

Book preview

1

Holly

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Holly Kraner looked at the display of ugly Christmas sweaters right at the entrance of Marshal Novelty store and smiled. The night staff had followed the instructions she’d left. They were the first things anyone coming into the store saw. In December, ugly design sweaters were an impulsive purchase, just like candy bars retailers display at the checkout counter.

Holly wished she could be as spontaneous as Christmas shoppers with her relationships and come out of her shell more often. Some people’s impression of her was the one in a blue moon occasion when they saw her mingling as if it was her typical modus operandi. Nope, she was more like Christmas the holiday, once a year.

She ran her palm down the fabric of the sweater. It was soft and smooth. The red on the fabric in her hand would go with her black hair. The funny sweater had been her idea. Every Christmas, people are invited to the best or worst Christmas sweater parties, and most people resort to maiming their current sweaters. What if there were funny Christmas themed sweaters available? She pitched it during one of the meetings right after she joined the company, suggesting that the company get its own line. It was a huge hit.

Why couldn’t relationships be as uncomplicated as that? She picked up an earthen bowl of potpourri placed on a table close to the sweaters and shook it. The dried pinecones, nuts, cinnamon sticks, red berries, and an evergreen sprig in it rattled, releasing their homey aromatic smells. She’d read somewhere that when people smell something they recognize, it relaxes them. A relaxed person shops more.

Traffic into the store was building up as Christmas approached. Right now, it was just days away, and people were coming in for their last-minute shopping. Holly was always amazed when sales numbers come in from accounting, and the sales from the fourth quarter of the year grossly surpassed those of other fiscal quarters combined, leaving a sweet taste in the mouth of the owner. Which also trickled down to the workers in the form of bonuses and raises.

Holly looked up, and her eyes widened. A life-sized mannequin of Santa had his pants pulled down to the ankles. She rushed over and pulled up the pants muttering to herself, wondering who thought that was an excellent practical joke.

What is she doing to Santa’s pee-pee, said a voice behind her.

Heat spread all over Holly. She whirled around and saw some teenagers snickering. Immediately she knew whose idea it was. They smiled at her and then rushed off. She went down on her haunches to see whether Santa’s pants were held up with a button or hook.

Holly? Holly Kraner is that you? asked a gray-haired woman holding a little boy’s hand.

Holly looked up, smiled, and nodded. Yes it- The words froze on her lips. Mrs. Hunter? Her eyes widened.

Yes, yes! You remembered. Look at you! All grown.

It was her fourth-grade teacher.

The last time I saw you, you were just slightly bigger than my grandson. She lowered her head to look at the little boy she was with. That’s my grandson, Peter.

Holly waved. Hello, Peter.

Peter's eyes were still glued on the statue.

Mrs. Hunter squinted and read Holly’s name tag out loud. VP Merch? Her eyebrows narrowed.

Vice president of merchandising. I take care of how products are placed in the store and what merchandise we carry.

Wow, that’s a big job, look at you. She bent down and spoke to her grandson. If you continue to do well in school, you’ll get a job like hers.

Peter shook his head. I don’t want her job. She was playing with Santa’s-

Hush! said Mrs. Hunter and let out an exasperated sigh. We have to go. Say hi to your sisters, Nicole and Claudia. She started to walk away, then stopped and looked over her shoulders. I heard Nicole got married.

Yes! Holly was enthusiastic about the change of subject. That was two years ago. She’s now Mrs. Stone.

Oh, the new owner of the Eastman Estate?

Holly nodded.

Wow. Nicole hit the jackpot on that one. That’s what I call living according to the Scriptures. Love your neighbor as yourself. She chuckled. Okay, Holly, see you around. How long are you here for?

Just until the holidays are over. Then back to California for me.

As soon as they left, Holly quickly adjusted the mannequin’s pants. She straightened up and looked around. Good. Nobody was paying any attention to her.

Holly looked around the store in case there were any more problems like the one she’d just solved. None. Toward the back of the store where they had the conference room with a one-way window like in police interrogation rooms she’d seen on TV, she noticed quite a few men in Santa costumes. It was a new initiative they were trying out. Place Santas in different locations in the mall and on certain streets taking donations for the Marshals Foundation. The total proceeds would be matched by Marshal Novelty, the company, and sent to charities around the world.

Holly looked away and glanced back moments later. Two of the men seemed to be watching her, talking about her. Who were they? She knew some were staff of Marshals while some were local hands. They were all in character, white beard, big stuffed Santa belly vests. One caught her attention, the one with blue eyes. The two men suddenly became aware she knew they were watching her and talking about her. They looked away, then moved on.

Holly exhaled. She would hook herself a man before the year was out.

2

Brad

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Brad Marshal sat in the break room that also served as a boardroom for the Marshal Novelty Inc. store in Mountain Peak, New Jersey. He was still tired from the cross-country flight from LAX to Newark Liberty. Nothing beats a good night's sleep on your own bed, not even a custom bed on your private jet. The Santa costume wasn’t helping matters. Even if he were pregnant, he couldn’t imagine his stomach ever getting as big as the belly vest he had on. He was still getting used to the beard. His chin had a day-old stubble that made a gritting sound like sandpaper when he ran his hands over his chin. The fake beard would have stuck better to his chin if he’d shaved. On more than one occasion, absentmindedly, he’d begun the process of ripping it off. But it was a necessary evil. He wondered how all the people that played Santa were able to pull it off. Well, it was a job they had to do.

They’d come up with an initiative to raise money to donate to charities borrowing a leaf from the Salvation Army’s technique. But Marshal Novelty would match the proceeds. Just like those CEOs in the TV show Undercover Boss, it would be a way for him to experience firsthand what was going on in his different stores incognito.

The coffee machine sputtered one last time and stopped, the smell of fresh coffee permeating the room. Brad got up, walked over to the coffee machine, took a Styrofoam cup, and filled it. He liked his coffee black, but sometimes indulged in the lattes and cappuccinos.

Brad normally would spend Christmas with his parents, but they’d decided to travel to Germany for a Hamburg Christmas. Well, he’d sent them. All expenses paid for by him. His only sister, Martha, he’d probably see before the year ran out. He remembered his mother’s words when he’d called to wish them a bon voyage.

There are lots of pretty and decent girls in Jersey, so keep your eyes open. You can ask your dad, I’m a living attestation to that. Remember it’s Christmas. Don’t spend all your time working. Remember, all work and no play makes Brad a dull boy. Most of all, your father and I are not getting any younger, we need grandchildren to keep us busy.

Brad refocused on the meeting to keep his mind away from a growing problem for him. Finding the right girl was becoming an issue. Everyone seemed to have an agenda. He had one too: to find a girl that loved him for him, not because of who he was. Who knows, maybe Mountain Peak might be an exception.

The store manager reiterated how well the store was doing and how the business was in the right location to cater to everyone that came to Mountain Peak for the snow and or celebrate Christmas in a unique setting.

Brad leaned back in his chair as his eyes started to shut and open like window shutters. He stared through the glass screen into the store. He knew from when they arrived at the store that the other side was a mirror. As his eyes blinked, and he drifted in and out of sleep, he wondered if the store was breaking any privacy laws with tinted windows in the store.

Straddling the twilight zone between sleep and consciousness, he marveled at how organized the store was. Most of the layout had survived from the initial concept he had when the idea hit him in his last year at Berkley. His parents had a novelty/toy store that just managed to stay above water. People had to go out of their way to visit the store. Brad believed the commute gave them enough time to talk themselves out of spending money. For example, buying a twenty-dollar battery operated can opener that could spin and open the can when they already had a three dollar one that only needed to be cranked a few times to do the same job.

If these shops were in areas where people were already shopping, or in a to be wowed mood, like resort towns, they would be more willing to shell out their hard-earned cash for some novelty. His father told him it was more likely to break even, and he was not interested in the idea but offered his expertise if he wanted it. Nothing else rallied Brad as much as a challenge. He worked for two years at an investment bank, lived rent-free at home, and saved all his money. He secured a loan, and Marshal Novelty was born. Through his contacts in investment banking, he acquired more funding, and the rest, as they say, is history. In five years, it had become a two-billion-dollar company.

Brad always looked for new ways to improve. The words of his college professor resonated in his mind constantly.

Never rest on your laurels, the professor had said. Does anyone remember what happened to the last guy that rested on his laurels?

Yes, someone shouted from the back. His friends stabbed him to death.

Brad's eyes were fixed on the ass of a curvy woman in a black skirt as she walked around the store. He thought perhaps he was now in dreamland. Instead of opening at 10:00am, the mall had opened a little earlier, and shoppers were beginning to stream in. But she didn’t look like a shopper.

Suddenly, the woman was on her haunches in front of Santa with his pants down around his ankle. Brad sat up; sleep vanished from his eyes. Was the woman blowing Santa in his store? Then he noticed it was a life-sized Santa waxwork.

The woman rose to her feet and spoke with an older woman with a kid. When they left, she finished fixing Santa’s pants. She probably was an employee. Average height, black shoulder-length hair, model pretty, she looked familiar. The meeting broke up.

So in the folder in front of you, said the Mountain Peak store manager. You’ll find your schedule and location.

Cole, Brad's friend and chief of operations, also dressed up as Santa, walked up to him. Sure you don’t want to take a break? You don’t have to do this, you know. There is a beautiful word called delegation at your disposal. Your personal safety could be at stake here. Who knows who is here? The Taliban, Boko Haram? Facebook spent $7.3 million on its CEO’s security in 2017. If shit hits the fan, all you have is me, and how fast I can dial 911.

Brad rolled his eyes. Yeah, right, Boko Haram, Taliban. I’m more likely to succumb to exhaustion than a terrorist attack. Come on, let’s go. We have money to raise.

Outside the breakroom and in the store proper, Brad locked eyes with the sexy fox again. His cock twitched a hello. He should know her, he thought. Who's the chick?

Cole laughed. Come on Brad. You don’t know people that work for you?

Brad's policy was never to get involved with people that worked for him. It could…complicate things.

"That’s Holly Kraner, your VP of Merchandising. And she's no