Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Unfortunately, Santa decided to give him a promotion: my BOSS…
I couldn't afford to quit, so I suffered through his egotistical reign and hoped that my wish would be granted next season.
Does Santa even read our lists anymore?
Between an ice storm for the ages, getting arrested for “breaking and entering,” I wind up trapped inside his car for a never-ending road trip, and any time I think the journey home can't get worse, the universe throws me another wicked curveball.
The games are just beginning.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
LAST CHRISTMAS
Dear Fellow Overstressed Coworkers,
Tis the season for a brand-new CEO!
As you know, this year marks the last Christmas we have to deal with Taylor Adeleman, a.k.a. Worst Boss Ever, a.k.a. ‘Can’t He Please Just Die Already?’—and there are two candidates in the running to take his place:
Taryn Stone & James Calloway
Now, I personally LOATHE them both, but since they also hate each other, I feel like we’ll be much better off with either villain at the helm.
Does anyone want to take a bet on which one gets the promotion?
Let the CEO Games begin…
Sandra Ericson
Your favorite secretary,
Magnolia Marketing
ONE
TARYN
Last Christmas
Seattle Washington
“Oh, come onnn! Come on, please!” I honk my horn in the stalled morning traffic.
Don’t panic, Taryn. Don’t panic. You’re still early.
“Taryn, we discussed road rage last week, didn’t we?” A soft voice comes through my speakers, instantly reminding me I’m not alone.
My therapist has insisted on short morning sessions every holiday season for as long as I can remember, and I forget she’s listening most of the time.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, holding back a sigh. “Do you think James Calloway wakes up for work as early as I do?”
“James Calloway is not my patient.”
“He’s your patient’s biggest enemy, though…”
“Taryn, for the umpteenth time, it’s not healthy for you to give so much attention to one person.”
“I’m just asking a simple question. I bet he’s up right now, thinking of new ways to sabotage me.”
“I can assure you that obsessing like this hurts you far more than it hurts him.”
Bullshit… “If you ever met this man, I promise you would change your diagnosis.”
“Taryn…”
“Can I bring him with me to my next in-person session?” I ask. “I feel like you would stop giving me this bad advice if you saw him in the flesh.”
“No.” Her voice is firm. “Let’s not spend the rest of the morning talking about him, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod as if she can see me.
“Why don’t we talk about something else?”
I don’t have anything else. “Um…”
“Are you looking forward to spending time with your family for the holidays?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I’ve had my bags packed for months. Staying at The Grace Estate with them is always the best part of my year.”
“Do you ever consider asking them to show you old pictures from the years you can’t remember?”
“I…” Her question hits me like a ton of bricks; it’s the real reason I have a therapist, to see if one of these days I can unlock memories since “the accident” that I never address, but it’s been years with zero progress.
“That’s okay,” she says. “Is anything good happening for you at work?”
“I’m being considered for a huge promotion.”
“Oh wow, that’s amazing.”
“Against James Calloway,” I say. “I swear, if he gets this over me, I might plot his murder. You can’t testify against me in court, right?”
“Okay, that’s it.”
“Just hear me out,” I say, launching into a spiel I’ve given her countless times before.
I know it’s not his fault that I wasted years in failed companies or got sucked into pyramid schemes, but after finding my true calling in marketing, it’s not fair that he’s standing in my way.
He can sell someone a cure for a disease they don't have. Can sell a stranger anything with a single line from his perfectly molded mouth or from the way his sapphire eyes make you believe in every word he says.
And he knows it.
“But that doesn’t make him better than me, you know?” I say. “He has to know that.”
Silence.
“Hello?” I ask. “Dr. Foster, are you still there?”
Before I can check to see if she hung up on me, the light turns green.
Forgetting about therapy, I keep my focus on the road and mentally flip through the files I've worked on all year.
When I finally reach company headquarters, I pull into my special “Creative Director” spot and rush to the top level.
“Good morning, Miss Stone!” My assistant, Eliza, hands me a bottle of water.
“Did you slash Mr. Calloway’s tires like I requested?”
“The only one I missed was the left rear.”
“What about his coffee?”
“I made sure the barista used cayenne pepper, and I told her not to add his usual cinnamon for today.”
“Great job!” I follow her into my office and hit the lights.
The moment I drop my purse, the chair behind my desk spins around, and Satan smiles at me.