Christmas in Paris: a collection of 3 sweetly naughty Christmas romance books 2017 Read online

  Table of Contents

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Part II

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Part II

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Part I

  Part II

  Epilogue

  Christmas in Paris

  3 Sweetly Sexy Christmas Romances

  Alix Nichols

  Contents

  Foreword

  Books by Alix Nichols

  RAPHAEL’S FLING

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Part II

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  WINTER’S GIFT

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Part II

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  PLAYING DIRTY

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Part I

  1. Julien

  2. Noemi

  3. Julien

  4. Noemi

  5. Julien

  6. Noemi

  7. Julien

  8. Noemi

  Part II

  9. Julien

  10. Noemi

  11. Julien

  12. Noemi

  13. Julien

  14. Noemi

  15. Julien

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Books by Alix Nichols

  About the Author

  Foreword

  Thank you for picking up the CHRISTMAS IN PARIS box set!

  It includes three heartwarming and sexy holiday romances that you won’t want to put down! Each story is complete and follows a different couple.

  RAPHAEL’S FLING — A secretive nerdette gets a bad boy for Christmas.

  WINTER’S GIFT — What happens when an elite call girl falls in love with a client but refuses to quit her job?

  PLAYING DIRTY — Former mean girl Noemi and sports star Julien embark on a passionate course that could destroy them both…

  **Save 50% — or 2 borrows if you have Kindle Unlimited — over downloading each book in this bundle individually!**

  Books by Alix Nichols

  The Darcy Brothers

  Find You in Paris

  Raphael’s Fling

  The Perfect Catch

  Clarissa and the Cowboy

  Playing to Win

  Playing with Fire

  Playing for Keeps

  Playing Dirty

  La Bohème

  Winter’s Gift

  What If It’s Love?

  Falling for Emma

  Under My Skin

  Amanda’s Guide to Love

  Copyright © 2017 Alix Nichols

  All Rights Reserved.

  Details can be found at the end of the book.

  RAPHAEL’S FLING

  The Darcy Brothers Series

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  A secretive nerdette gets a bad boy for Christmas...

  I'm Mia, a grad student and part-time assistant at D'Arcy Consulting and Audit.

  My company's CEO, Raphael d'Arcy, is young, funny, smart, and uber-rich.

  He's also smoking hot.

  That alone should have scared me away, were I not such a fool, my academic achievements notwithstanding.

  But there's more.

  Raphael is France's most notorious playboy who doesn't do relationships. He does one-night stands. If sufficiently intrigued, he might do a fling, which is the most we could ever have together -- a short-lived fling.

  So what, right?

  Worse things happen at sea...

  They do, indeed.

  As a matter of fact, getting my heart broken by Raphael d'Arcy is the least of my worries.

  Some very serious merde has been piling up in my life lately.

  And it's about to hit the fan.

  RAPHAEL'S FLING is a standalone lust-to-love romance within the Darcy Brothers series.

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  How did I come to this?

  I sigh, smooth my clothes one last time, and head for the cream, leather-padded door.

  “Mia, wait!” Raphael calls after me.

  I halt and turn around.

  He opens his chiseled mouth as if to say something, then shuts it, and gives me a tight smile. The smile of a person having second thoughts on the advisability of what he was going to say.

  Well, I’m not waiting around for the result of his inner deliberation. There are two bulky reports on my desk and a few dozen emails I need to go through before I can leave tonight.

  Ergo, time is of the essence.

  I resume my hike across Raphael’s vast office until I reach the door. It unlocks smoothly and without a sound, bless its high-tech heart. After a sneak peek in the hall to check if the coast is clear, I slip away without saying good-bye to Raphael or Anne-Marie, his faithful PA.

  Just like a lawbreaker.

  Well, maybe not a lawbreaker, but definitely a reoffending violator of the Workplace Code of Honor. In particular, of Rule #1, which says: “Workers shall not have sexual intercourse with their hierarchical superiors, inferiors, or posteriors.”
>
  While there’s some controversy over the exact meaning of “inferiors” and “posteriors,” everyone knows that a “superior” is more than just your immediate boss. The concept also covers your boss’s boss, your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, and the Boss of Them All—the CEO.

  It’s a very sensible provision, by the way, and one I totally approve of and adhere to.

  As I rush down the hallway, my heels clicking on the marble floor, I realize I should’ve put my observation in the past tense. As in, “I used to adhere to.”

  Having repeatedly broken the Code’s first rule since March makes me a rogue and a hypocrite of the worst kind.

  How did I fall so low?

  Here’s a clue: it’s Rudolph the Reindeer’s fault.

  God knows I hadn’t planned on this when I landed the world’s most unexceptional job as assistant to the daily bulletin editor at DCA Paris. DCA stands for “D’Arcy Consulting and Audit.” Yup, the same “d’Arcy” that’s sandwiched between “Raphael” and the rest of his fancy name on my lover’s official letterhead.

  Having sexual intercourse with Raphael d’Arcy du Grand-Thouars de Saint-Maurice, a gentleman and a libertine, was the last thing on my mind when I started at DCA. In fact, it was nowhere near my mind.

  Despite my murky past, that’s not who I am. Nor does my life need more complications right now.

  Trust me.

  Pauline Cordier’s familiar silhouette takes shape at the end of the hallway just as I reach the elevator and push the button. My heart skips a beat. If my direct supervisor sees me on this floor, she’ll assume one of the following two things: (a) my presence here is work-related, meaning I’m going over her head; or (b) my presence here has nothing to do with work, meaning I’m sleeping with one of the senior managers.

  Needless to say, both alternatives are equally conducive to me getting sidelined, ostracized, and ultimately fired.

  I take a deep breath and give the approaching figure a furtive glance.

  It isn’t Pauline.

  The woman doesn’t even look like her, now that she’s closer.

  Phew.

  You may not believe me, but I wasn’t sure what Raphael d’Arcy looked like when DCA hired me. Having scanned his official bio in preparation for my job interview, I had formed a vague image that boiled down to “young, well-born, and well-dressed.” The specifics of the founding CEO’s background and appearance hadn’t lingered in my mind. I doubt they’d even entered it.

  Because they were not important.

  All I wanted from Monsieur d’Arcy was a job at his firm that gave me a monthly paycheck to complement the pittance my school calls a scholarship. That way, I could finish my doctoral program without having to sleep under bridges or borrow money.

  Parisian bridges can be drafty, you see. And damp. As for the stench, courtesy of well-groomed dogs and ill-groomed humans, don’t even get me started! On top of all that, bridges offer no suitable storage space for research notes, photocopies, and books.

  In short, they suck as accommodations.

  As for the borrowing, my parents taught Eva and me that debt must be avoided at all costs. Their “debt is bad” precept proved stronger than the knowledge that everyone lives on credit in Western societies today.

  Except my parents, that is.

  Then again, they live in rural Alsace. Life’s a lot cheaper there than in la capitale, so they were able to make it into their fifties without a single loan to cloud their horizon.

  I step off the elevator on the second floor, relieved that no one saw me in Top Management’s Heavenly Quarters, and my phone rings. Considering that I’ve been sneaking out like this for two months already, the probability that someone will see me and that it’ll reach Pauline’s ears is growing by the day.

  It freaks me out more than I care to admit.

  As I answer the phone, Raphael’s deep, sexy timbre breaks me from my worries.

  “You left your panties here,” he says, sounding amused and smug at the same time. In short, his usual self.

  “No, I didn’t—”

  Oh crap. I did.

  “I’ve got five minutes before the managerial,” he says, “so if you want to come back and collect—”

  “No!” I look around and lower my voice. “It’s OK. I’m sure I can make it through the afternoon without them.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that. The question is whether I can make it through the afternoon with the knowledge you’re without them.” He pauses, as if pondering the question, and then adds, “And with them in my pocket.”

  My stomach flips.

  Something achingly—yet delightfully—heavy gathers low in my abdomen, reminding me of what Raphael and I had been up to a mere half hour ago. Suddenly, every step I take makes me aware of my pantyless condition. The friction of my skirt’s silky lining against my bare skin makes it prickle. My breathing becomes strained, and my heart thumps in my chest.

  As I struggle to calm myself before entering the office I share with two other assistants, I picture myself in Strasbourg in our family physician’s immaculate office.

  “What’s my diagnosis, doctor?” I’d ask after he’s examined me.

  “Not to worry, mon enfant! You’ll live.” He’d push his regular glasses to his forehead and put on his reading glasses. “You have a textbook case of lustium irresistiblum.”

  “Please, can you make it go away?”

  He’d smile and shake his head, updating my file on his computer. “It’s like a viral cold. It’ll clear up on its own, eventually.”

  And that, my friends, is the second clue to the mystery of how I got here.

  It appears I’ve caught a virulent strain of lustium irresistiblum for lady-killer Raphael d’Arcy. And with my luck, we’ll likely get caught before it clears.

  “Got to go,” I whisper into the phone and hang up.

  I take a few long breaths to chase my arousal away before I enter the office.

  Easier said than done.

  The things Raphael says, the things he does to me… They don’t just excite—they break into my brain and muddle it up on a deep, molecular level. Throwing ethical norms against that kind of invasion has been as effective as attempting to shoot down the Death Star with foam darts.

  But I’ll keep on trying.

  Till the bitter end.

  Chapter 2

  I spent the first month at DCA Paris without a single sighting of Le Big Boss, as the assistants in my department call him. This is not surprising, considering the six floors and about as many layers of hierarchy that separate us. If we had ever bumped into each other in a hallway, he wouldn’t have known me from a bar of soap and I wouldn’t have recognized him.

  Then the traditional Christmas party arrived. The organizing committee decreed it would be a costume event, and anyone who dared to turn up without a proper disguise would be sent home.

  By a stroke of luck or misfortune, I happened to own an old costume just perfect for a Christmas party—Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It was a fluffy onesie that came with a set of antlers adorning its roomy hood that covered the top half of my face and an elastic-band red nose. The costume had been in my parents’ attic since I’d graduated high school. It begged to be worn again.

  I shouldn’t have listened to its pleas!

  Had I known where that brown faux-fur onesie would land me, I would’ve never worn it to the office Christmas party. Heck, I would’ve never gone to that party to start with! But in the absence of a crystal ball to foresee the future, Rudolph had seemed like a great idea.

  When I entered the meeting room, which had been transformed into a dance floor complete with a disco ball, it looked anything but Christmassy. Scantily clad Santa babes, provocative elves, and seductive angels—to say nothing of Playboy Bunnies—were gulping down champagne and undulating their lithe bodies to the beat of “I Know You Want Me.” Many of them were also singing along and winking at their dance partners, I know you want me, You know
I want cha.

  Their male coworkers weren’t far behind. They sported costumes representing an assortment of shoulder-padded Marvel superheroes with an occasional bare-chested Santa thrown in. Nearly every one of them drank, danced, and flirted with the ferocity of someone determined to get lucky.

  In other words, much fun was being had.

  “The name of the game is Locate Le Big Boss,” my office mate Delphine said, handing me a glass of bubbly.

  A champagne cork shot through the air, a little too close for comfort to my face. I ducked, spilling the contents of my flute and making Delphine chuckle.