Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle (Play with Me, Snowfall, and After Midnight): A Loveswept Contemporary Romance PDF
Preview Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle (Play with Me, Snowfall, and After Midnight): A Loveswept Contemporary Romance
Play with Me, Snowfall, and After Midnight are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Loveswept eBook Edition Play with Me copyright © 2013 by Lisa Renee Jones Snowfall copyright © 2013 by Mary Ann Hudson After Midnight copyright © 2013 by Serena Bell All Rights Reserved. Published in the United States of America by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York. LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC. Cover design: Susan Schultz Cover photograph: © pictore/Getty Images eBook ISBN: 978-0-8041-7840-2 www.ReadLoveSwept.com v3.1 Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Play with Me by Lisa Renee Jones Dedication Part One: The first meeting… Part Two: I’ve got your number… Part Three: Where I belong… Part Four: What just happened? Part Five: Business or pleasure? Part Six: A view from inside… Part Seven: The contract… Part Eight: Mr. Ward… Part Nine: Running… Part Ten: Sex therapy… Part Eleven: Home is where the heart is… Part Twelve: The truth will set you free… About the Author Snowfall by Mary Ann Rivers Dedication Christmas Chapter One: First Inch, Early December Chapter Two: Falling Chapter Three: Break in the Weather Chapter Four: Second Inch Chapter Five: Comfort and Joy Chapter Six: Whiteout Chapter Seven: Let It Snow Chapter Eight: Inches, Drifts, Storms Chapter Nine: It’s Christmas Eve’s Eve Christmas Acknowledgments About the Author After Midnight by Serena Bell Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Play with Me Lisa Renee Jones To Louise, my fabulous agent, who I’ll gamble with any day of the week Part One The first meeting… “Ms. Miller.” At the sound of my name, I hop to my feet in the center of the Las Vegas temp service. Rushing forward, I stop in front of my interviewer, a forty-something woman in a navy suit not so unlike my own. “Hi,” I say, sounding as awkward and nervous as I feel about being unemployed for the first time in my life. My greeting earns me a quick up-and-down inspection that has my already rattled nerves swan-diving off an invisible cliff. She levels a stare at me and asks, “Can I help you?” And her prickly tone says I’ve failed her sixty-second assessment. “I’m Ms. Miller,” I reply, and try to win her over. “But, please, you can call me Kali.” Her lips twist and tell me she is clearly not charmed, as I had intended. Instead, she looks down her nose, which is as straight as the long brunette hair neatly tied at her nape, and repeats with formality, “Ms. Miller. I’m Ms. Williams, your job-placement counselor. Come with me.” “Ms. Williams” charges down a narrow hallway and I chase after her, just as I did for the reporting job at the Vegas Heat that fell through before I ever started to work. She disappears into an office and I follow, swiping at a strand of my long blond hair, which suddenly feels as disheveled as the new life I’ve gambled on. Ms. Williams settles behind a basic wooden desk and motions me to the burgundy cloth-covered visitor’s chair. Claiming the seat that might as well be labeled FOR DESPERATE, UNEMPLOYED FOLKS, I adjust my skirt to rest primly at my knees and watch Ms. Williams study my paperwork for what feels like an excruciatingly long amount of time. She glances up at me, and the skeptical glint in her eyes—real or created by my insecurity—makes me wish she hadn’t. “Let me get right to the point,” she declares. “You were working as a reporter in college.” “And for a year at the Texas Sun,” I quickly add, afraid she’s missed that line on my application. “I only left for a better offer, which was eliminated while I was en route.” “I was getting there, Ms. Miller,” she reprimands sharply. “My point is that I do not have any reporting jobs. They’re hard to come by. In other words, no one has any reporting jobs. If you can return to Texas and get your job back, you should.” The whiplash effect of her words has me slumping and then straightening in rebellion. Even though my savings are gone, I will not go back to covering watermelon festivals and, well, other … stuff I’d rather not think about now. Or ever. I’d rather not think about it ever. “I took your administrative tests,” I point out, “and, as you should be able to tell, I have excellent clerical skills. Additionally, I’m highly organized and I’m dedicated to whatever I do. I need work—therefore, I will be timely and productive while on the job.” “I saw your testing. The question is, will you be reliable if I send you to a job that isn’t a reporting position?” It doesn’t come out as the question it claims to be but more as an accusation. “My experience in journalism should assure an employer that I’m articulate and know how to censor when necessary. And I want to be an asset. I need a stable career.” Not a dream that can’t pay the bills, no matter how hard it is to let it go. She purses her lips and stands up. “Give me a moment to look at our job board.” Yes. Yes. Yes. She’s going to the job board, whatever that is. I track her departure, twisting in the chair and watching her from over my shoulder, then sinking down when she disappears from sight. Thrumming my nails on the arms of the chair, I anxiously feel every second Ms. Williams is gone. I used my savings to come here and start a new life. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, which I don’t. “Okay,” Ms. Williams announces, walking back into the office. “I have a secretarial job opening, but you have to start today.” I sit up on the edge of the chair. “Now? It’s already two in the
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