Fling is a stand-alone novella. I have a crush on my boss' best friend. At least it's not my brother's best friend. Or my best friend's brother. Or...never mind. It's all pretty cliché. And worse? My boss' best friend is his business partner. Which sort of makes him my boss, too. Okay - it's not sort of. It's definite. Gabe Laurent is off-limits. Totally off-limits. Which is fine. I make do with my imagination. He'll never know. Ever. Unless my work bestie passes me an '80s-style teen movie sex quiz during a meeting, and I fill it out. And it ends up in Gabe's hands....

My childhood was perfect. I've led a charmed life, and I'm not going to blow it now by picking the wrong guy. I've got my sights set on my brother's best friend. He's known my family for years. He's reliable and kind and handsome. Sure, he's been avoiding me since I was six. I'm a bit aggressive for him, maybe. But he's the one...right?

Have you ever set out to have a one night stand with a sexy stranger? No? I’m the only one? Just kidding, I would never. Ever. Not usually. But then I figured, why not? My entire life I’ve been good and it’s gotten me nowhere. No job. No apartment. No boyfriend. I’m owed a little fun, aren’t I?

I have a history of picking the wrong guy. Gay? Player? Momma's boy? Check, check and check. Now I can't stop fantasizing about one of the customers at the coffee shop I work at between classes. It's just a harmless crush, right? It's not like I ever see this guy outside of the coffee shop. It's not like I'm going to see him while attempting to get birth control at the student clinic. While wearing a paper gown. While sitting on an exam table. Because he's the doctor. Shoot. Me.

Mistakes were made, okay? The moment I laid eyes on Kyle Kingston I knew he was a mistake. A satisfying, toe-curling, hair-pulling, best-night-of-my-life mistake, but a mistake all the same. I didn’t yet know his name, or who he was, but I knew he was a bad idea. I’m pregnant...and did I mention my baby daddy is both heir to a retail empire and impossible to get ahold of? I do what any girl would. I break into his grandfather’s retirement gala by telling the prissy gatekeeper Kyle’s my fiancé.

Sometimes you meet people who are out of this world, so you make them a part of yours. A one-night stand born from vengeance in a foreign land. An explosive chemistry neither of us could deny. We signed a contract on the back of a Boar’s Head Pub napkin that said if we ever met again, we would drop everything and be together. Eight years and thousands of miles later, he’s here. In New York. And he’s America’s music obsession. 

Dear Santa: Please bring me a new boss for Christmas. Mine is the worst. The worst, hidden in a six-foot-tall package of male perfection. It’d be easier if he looked like an old Scrooge, wouldn’t it? Nick Saint-Croix doesn’t look like an old scrooge. He’s hot as - um, never mind. Just bring me a new boss. Please. Sincerely, Holly Winter

Grab a mug of hot cocoa and a comfortable chair and enjoy all three novellas in the Reindeer Falls Collection in one volume: The Boss Who Stole Christmas (Book 1); If You Give a Jerk a Gingerbread (Book 2); and The One Night Stand Before Christmas (Book 3).

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own. 

"Once in a while right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale." I saw that quote about fairy tales embroidered on a decorative pillow at a home decorating store. Honestly, it pissed me off. Retail propaganda aimed to promote sales when any single girl in the city could tell them they'd sell more if they'd offer Keep Your Pants On, Asshole instead. But it's fine. I don't have room for decorative pillows anyway. And I don't have time for distractions. Which is why I'm ignoring the distraction staring at me right now.

My resignation letter was rejected by my boss with his sexy, trademark smirk and an "I highly suggest you read the fine print of your contract...." So, I did. And now I've realized that unless I fake my death, poison him, or find a way to renegotiate my impossible contract, I'm stuck working under one of the cockiest and most ruthless bosses in New York. Then again, I thought that was the case until he called me late last night with an emergency proposition....

It started out like any normal day. Then the fender bender happened. The guy I collided with drove an expensive car and was drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad he was also a total jerk. We argued over whose fault it was and any other thing that came out of his condescending mouth. Eventually, the police came and we went our separate ways. The insurance companies would have to figure things out. I had a job interview to get to anyway - one I was excited about. Though that excitement changed to disappointment the moment the person interviewing me walked in. The guy from the accident. 

I’d never forgotten him - a man I’d yet to meet. Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break. Until one day it did. Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one - one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing. Griffin forgave me, and we were able to rekindle our childhood connection.

At 35, Marcus Carelli has it all: wealth, power, and the kind of looks that leave women breathless. A self-made billionaire, he heads one of the largest hedge funds on Wall Street and can take down major corporations with a single word. The only thing he’s missing? A wife who’d be as big of an achievement as the billions in his bank account.

It should be the most shocking news I’d ever gotten - my boyfriend is getting married. Okay, technically he’s my ex-boyfriend. Two months ago he decided he wanted a break. I still thought he was my happily-ever-after. On any other day, knowing he was gone for good would be the worst thing that could possibly happen. But not today. Because not only is my boyfriend getting married - his bride is my best friend. And they’ve sent me an invitation. There’s no way I’m going to attend. I don’t care if it’s in beautiful Scotland. Nothing and no one could convince me.