His Christmas Angel

By Cameron Hart

I was not at all happy to be at the company Christmas party, but since I employ everyone else attending, I was obligated to make an appearance. I planned on drinking too much and leaving early, but then I saw her. My Christmas angel.

Her curves, innocent smile, and unassuming nature drew me in. My beautiful girl was clad in an ugly Christmas sweater and bells on her toes – literally. I had to talk to her. Smell her. Taste her. Savor every single thing about her.

We shared a life-altering kiss under the mistletoe, and then she fled. If she thinks this is the end of us, she's in for a big surprise. I always get what I want. And I want her with every fiber of my being. 

 

They shared a soul-shattering kiss under the mistletoe, and then she left. He knows he'll have to be careful with his Christmas angel, but make no mistake; she will be his.

 

What to expect from a Cameron Hart book: Lots of heat, plenty of sweet, and just enough drama to keep things interesting. No cheating, safe, guaranteed HEA!

 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cameron Hart
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223875260

Cameron Hart

Hello. I'm Cameron Hart, and I write sweet steamy romances. I’m a USA Today Bestselling author with over forty books available. I write romance with lots of heat, plenty of sweet, and just enough drama to keep things interesting. I graduated from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop in 2012 with a degree in creative writing. When I’m not working on my next book, I can be found reading, crocheting, doing yoga, and chasing around my grumpy cats. **What to expect from a Cameron Hart book: Lots of heat, plenty of sweet, and just enough drama to keep things interesting. No cheating, safe, guaranteed HEA!**

Book preview

Chapter 1

Ember

Why did I let Casey talk me into coming to her office Christmas party? Oh, right, because I’ve hardly left my apartment in two weeks and she refused to take no for an answer.

I used to love Christmas, but this year, every light, bow, toy display, and Christmas carol brings me to tears. Like last night when I finally hauled my ass to the grocery store only to end up ugly crying in the dairy section staring at the eggnog display while Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas was playing.

My mom lost her battle with cancer almost eight months ago now, but I feel like I’m grieving her now more than ever. We were best friends, us against the world ever since my dad died. I’m not sure when it started, but for as long as I could remember, we went all out for Christmas. Every year we waited as long as we could to decorate, but usually only made it till November first. Yeah, we were those people, but we didn’t care about the haters.

But this year everything is different. Christmas is less than three weeks away and I haven’t put a single decoration up. I haven’t even taken the boxes out of the closet. I haven’t baked cookies or made peppermint bark. I haven’t watched a single Hallmark movie.

I quit Christmas cold turkey, but now I’m going to immerse myself into the holiday season all at once. Casey gently reprimanded me for my reclusive behavior, saying that my mom wouldn’t want me to give up something so special to both of us. After breaking down in tears once again, I agreed. It seemed like a fitting way to honor my mom and pull myself out of this slump I’ve been in.

Now that the time has come, however, I’m not so sure. If I end up sobbing in front of everyone, I’m going to kill Casey and then never come out of my apartment again.

Taking a deep breath to clear my thoughts, I look at my outfit of choice in the mirror. It’s an ugly sweater party, which I admit, I love. Mom has a stellar collection of tacky Christmas sweaters from the eighties, and as much as it hurt to go through her clothes, it was a good kind of pain. Cathartic, really. She would have wanted this for me.

The sweater I chose is bright blue with wreaths all over. One wreath has holly on it, the berries being little pom-poms, of course. Another wreath has a string of lights around it, each lightbulb a different color of dangling plastic. The other wreaths are decorated with puffs and frills and lace, as well as an assortment of bold colors. The whole thing is an eyesore, and I love it.

I lucked out and found a pair of red and green plaid pants hiding in the back of mom’s closet. They totally clash with the sweater, making the whole outfit one tacky mess. The pants and sweater are a little snug on my full figure, but not in an obscene way. My mom was a beautiful curvy woman, and I inherited those curves. I’m a little bigger than my mom was in the chest and butt area, but overall, I think the clothes fit okay.

My outfit is completed by huge, sparkling snowflake earrings. I briefly debated doing something crazy with my hair, but ultimately decided against it. Getting dressed up and going to a social outing feels like enough of an accomplishment as it is. I didn’t even bother with makeup because who am I trying to impress? And let’s be real, there’s a distinct possibility I’d cry it all off anyway.

My phone dings with a text message, and I dig through my purse to find it.

Casey: Get your ass over here, the party is starting!

I shove down the feeling of dread the text incites in me. Party. Me. Going. UGH.

The Christmas party is being held at a trendy lounge on the other side of town. Casey and her co-workers went there straight from work, so I have to show up on my own. Just thinking about walking into the party by myself sends another wave of anxiety through me.

Buck up, buttercup, I say to myself before replying to Casey.

Me: I’m heading out the door now. Be there in twenty.

Casey: Yay! I know this is a big step. I’m proud of you!

Her response brings tears to my eyes, but I swallow them down. If I start now, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop.

***

Twenty-five minutes later, I pull into the parking lot and turn off the engine. I’m practically shaking with nerves. I run through a few breathing exercises until my heartbeat slows down and I can take a full breath. One last look in the rearview mirror, and then I grab my purse and get out of my car.

I make it to the entrance of the lounge and close my eyes, taking another deep breath.

This is for you, mom, I whisper to myself before opening the door.

Oh shit.

Why is no one else dressed in an ugly sweater? Furthermore, why are all the women wearing short, tight, and revealing cocktail dresses? I mean, I guess the lounge is kinda upscale, but this is a company Christmas party. I wouldn’t dream of wearing a strapless red silk dress for a work event. Okay, so I wouldn’t wear a strapless red silk dress ever, but still.

Maybe I’m in the wrong place. Yes, that must be it. Surely Casey would have told me if there was a dress code. Actually, she did. She said the dress code was ugly sweaters. Didn’t she? Or did I just make that up?

Either way, I’m bailing. This was a terrible idea. My introduction back into a social life was a huge swing and a miss. That’s okay. I’ll try again in a few months. Or years.

Just as I’m about to walk out of the door, I hear a horrible sound. Casey. Calling to me.

Ember! There you are! She snags me by my elbow and turns me around so we’re facing each other. Oh. Uh, nice outfit? I can tell she’s trying not to cringe, but she’s losing the battle.

I’m an idiot. I thought you said it was an ugly Christmas sweater party.

Nope, just a regular Christmas party.

Yeah, I can see that, I sigh. This is dumb, I’m going to go back home now.

What? No, you can’t! You just got here!

Casey. You’re wearing stilettos and I have bells on my toes. Literally. I wave my right foot in the air to prove my point. The red ballerina flats have a cluster of bells on the end. I thought they were the perfect, over the top accessory to my outfit.

It’s fine, no one will even notice!

I glare at her. You can’t be serious. I’m a tacky mess while everyone else is classy and sophisticated.

Casey waves her hand in the air, dismissing my worries. There’s an open bar. Everyone will be drunk in an hour and then no one will care.

I can't do this. I'm so embarrassed. You know I hate being the center of attention, and that's exactly what's going to happen if I stay. I'm already getting weird looks from people, I stage-whisper to her.

Oh fuck them. Fuck everyone. You’re not here to impress people, you’re here to heal, baby!

Dammit. She’s right. Wasn’t I just thinking that before I left?

Casey grins, knowing that she’s winning this argument.

Come on, lady. Let’s get you some alcohol. I promise things will look better after a few drinks. She doesn’t wait for my response, she just drags me along to the bar.

This is going to be a long and miserable night.

Chapter 2

Wyatt

Why am I here again? I grumble to Taylor, my best friend and the CFO of my