The Mountain Man's Secret Santa: Christmas in Alpine Valley, #5

By Kali Hart

The Mountain Man's Secret Santa: Christmas in Alpine Valley Book 5
A Mountain Man Curvy Woman Holiday Romance

This Christmas, join five best friends as a friendly dare to draw Secret Santas leads them all to find their true loves.

Jewel

As my grumpy boss, Briggs Carlson, CEO of Carlson Logging Industries, is the bane of my existence.
He's also the man I've secretly been in love with for two years.
When I draw his name for the Secret Santa event, I hope that this year, Santa will give me what I want most for Christmas:
For Briggs to see me as more than his secretary.
For the man I've craved to crave me back.
If only he didn't frustrate me so much with his unexplainable jealousy and Scrooge-like tendencies.
Santa, am I in over my head this year?

Briggs

Since the day I interviewed Jewel two years ago, I haven't so much as looked at another woman.
I'm a broken man without a full heart to give.
Which is why I can never have her.
But I don't like letting her out of my sight.
If I can't have her, at least I can protect her from a distance.
It's the way it has to be, and I've accepted that.
Until my jealousy gets the best of me one night and I kiss her.
No matter how hard I try to go back to the way things were, I don't want to.
I want to make her mine.
To get her in my bed and never let her leave.


Come to Alpine Valley this Christmas and follow five best friends as a dare to participate in the town's Secret Santa event leads them all to true love. These books are sweet and steamy short instalove romances with older heroes and younger curvy woman. NO cliffhangers. NO cheating. Guaranteed HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jackie M. Wallick
• Release date: Jan 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223006145

Book preview

1

JEWEL

I’ve been away from the office for all of fifteen minutes, but the onslaught of texts and emails would suggest I walked out a week ago and never looked back. Most of them are from Briggs Carlson—CEO of Carlson Logging Industries, the bane of my existence, and the man I’ve been secretly in love with for two years.

I shoot Briggs a text, promising my coffee run will be quick.

Except I’m not in town for coffee. Well not only coffee.

The Secret Santa event starts this morning, and I want to be the first one in line to draw a name. Briggs, lovable grump that he is, doesn’t care that it’s the holiday season. I have no doubt I’ll be stuck at work until after the last name has been drawn. Better to just fake an errand and get this done now.

I hurry into the community center, navigating my way to the same party room my besties and I were in last night, drinking wine, exchanging gifts, and laughing like old times. I’ve been working so much that I hardly see them anymore. But we never miss our annual Sip & Dip. It’s an unbreakable vow we made to one another when life started to be more adulting than fun. It guarantees that we get together at least once a year.

Someday I hope that’ll pay off. That Briggs will see me as more than his secretary—that he’ll see me as a flesh and blood woman.

Good morning, Wilma! I greet the sweet elderly woman who conned my friends and me into participating last night when she came to check out the party room. You all alone today?

Oh no! The ladies are grabbing some coffee. They’ll be back in a jiffy. She pushes a metal bowl to the edge of the table in a subtle hint. I’m guessing you’re in a hurry.

I am.

I reach into the bowl and close my eyes as my hand digs through the folded papers. Let it be Briggs. Let it be Briggs. I have no idea how the Secret Santa committee decided which residents of Alpine Valley needed an infusion of Christmas cheer and something tells me Wilma isn’t spilling the beans. Doesn’t matter. I have a hard time believing that Briggs Carlson, the biggest Scrooge I’ve ever met, hasn’t qualified for a Secret Santa.

Seven? I hold out the paper to Wilma, wondering if there’s been a mistake.

Ah, that’s a good number. Good number indeed.

I’m confused.

Wilma moves to the side and holds out an arm Vanna White style to reveal an array of giftbags on the table behind her. The number matches one of these, you see. The names are inside the giftbags.

Oh. Which one is seven?

Instead of answering my question, she hands me a clipboard and pen instead. If you’ll just fill out this questionnaire really quick, I’ll find lucky number seven. She must sense my hesitation, because she adds, It’s a mixture of questions to make sure you’re suited for the role and to help us make the event even better next year.

I stare at the question regarding my favorite Christmas cookie like it’s written in Greek. I have no clue how this could help with the event for next year. But a series of buzzing from my coat pocket reminds me I’m on a time crunch. I still have to pick up the aforementioned coffee. I fill out the questions quickly, answering with the first things that come to mind.

Here you go, Wilma says, handing me a red, green, and silver patterned gift bag that reminds me of a flannel shirt. A shirt Briggs might wear. My pulse doubles as my wild imagination interrupts my normal thoughts. An image of me unbuttoning such a flannel shirt and placing my palm flat against the steel muscles beneath it—

Ms. Nielsen? Wilma says.

Yes. Crap, now I’m blushing.