Book Review

Standalone • Holiday Romance • Age gap • Comedy • Silver Fox • Age Gap • Daddykink

The annual holiday office party is the one occasion my silver fox boss isn’t his rigid, uptight self—not to mention completely liberated of a sense of humor. For a single, magical evening, he replaces Armani with a Santa suit and grabs a couple drinks with his employees. He might even chuckle once or twice!

Through no fault of my own, I end up half-naked and embarrassingly drunk on candy cane Jell-O shots. I plant my sweet rear on his lap, call him Daddy Christmas, tell him I’ve been a good boy, and ask for a very specific gift.

So I’m pretty sure I’m about to get fired.

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I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Mr. Abrams?”

He stopped typing on his computer and peered at me over the rim of his glasses.

“I have a delivery for you from Mr. Williams on the ground floor,” I said. “Suravi’s not here, but I can leave it on her desk if you’d prefer.”

He dismissed that and motioned for me to come forward.

I could make some serious strides on my Fitbit in his office, it was that big. At least compared to the tiny office I shared with Mya and Kim. And “office” was a stretch. Only a single single wall separated us from the cubicle area.

“It sounds like a Christmas gift, sir,” I commented as I handed him the parcels.

“It makes sounds?” He wasn’t pleased. “Then please stay here while I open it so I can decide whether to send it back with you.”

Hey. Rude. “Maybe Santa can replace it with a lump of coal.”

“Perhaps,” was his only reaction.

While he carefully tore the wrapping, I inspected his boring desk. I mean, the desk itself was nice, probably some expensive mahogany or oak thing, but he had nothing personal on it. No photos, no knickknacks. I knew he was unmarried and had no kids, but he had several nieces and nephews.

“It’s a nice rug you have here,” I offered. “I kinda wanna do cartwheels on it.” Or break-dance all over it with Kim.

He paused his unwrapping and glanced up at me. “You don’t have to fill the silence.”

“No, I know. I do that voluntarily.”

“That’s a shame,” he muttered and returned to his gift.

I suppressed a sigh and stuck my hands down into the pockets of my slacks.

The only thing that was a crying shame was this fun-sucker of a man. I could count my interactions with him on one hand—in the four years I’d been here—and they’d all required some serious aftercare to brighten my mood again.

Underneath the plain wrapping paper was a bottle of whiskey or scotch, and he held it up to read the tag strapped to its neck.

“This is a nice bourbon,” he commented. “I’m sure my uncle will enjoy it.”

“Sir?”

“It’s addressed to Clarke Abrams, my uncle.” He set the bottle aside, along with the other parcel, and I cursed to myself. “I assume this package is for him too. I’ll be at corporate tomorrow—I can deliver them to him.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Very few things embarrassed me, but this kind of mistake definitely did. My collar felt tight, and my ears started burning.

“I’m so sorry, sir. That’s my mistake,” I managed to say. “Mr. Williams told me to personally deliver it to Mr. Abrams at corporate, and I just assumed he meant you—and you’re here on Wednesdays, so… I’m sorry. This isn’t actually my job, so you don’t have to worry about this happening again. I’ll be back at my desk as soon as the servers—”

“Please, for the love of God, stop rambling.” Mr. Abrams leaned back in his seat. I swallowed uncomfortably. He observed me. “If Mr. Williams gave you the instructions, your assumption feels…foolish.”

“Yep. Well aware. It’s been a long week.” Fuck, let me get out of here, please.

“It’s Wednesday.”

“So people keep telling me.” I gestured to the packages. “May I have them back? I need to go downtown before your uncle leaves for the day.”

“He won’t get them, regardless.” He checked his watch. “He leaves right after the breakfast meeting on the days my aunt gets dialysis.”

That was…sweet, I supposed. Clarke Abrams was in his seventies, if I wasn’t mistaken. It probably wouldn’t be that many years before he handed over the corporation to two of his sons and the nephew in front of me.

I suddenly had an idea. “You’re going to corporate tomorrow.”

“As I mentioned.”

 “And you live in Santa Monica, right?”

His forehead creased. “I do.”

“So you’re passing Culver City on the way,” I said. “We can carpool. Pick me up outside the office tomorrow, and that way, I can follow Mr. Williams’s order and deliver the packages to Mr. Abrams myself. What do you say?”

“I was unaware that you were capable of following orders.”

“Hey.” I put my hands on my hips, getting a tad irritated. I knew I’d fucked up. How long did I have to suffer? “You’ve never complained about my work before. Please cut me some slack.”

He frowned at me. He was good at that. “I don’t even know who you are, what your name is, or what it is that you do here.”

“My name is Parker Jacobson, and I’m a mildly insulted graphic designer,” I replied. “I designed your business cards, among other things.”

Such as this year’s gift to the employees from corporate.

“I see.” He leaned forward and picked up one of his business cards from the little holder. “Well, Parker Jacobson, it’s not normal behavior to ask your boss for a ride.”

My ears felt hot again. The man made me feel like Bambi on ice, which I’d already thought was my default setting in life. I usually tumbled around and hoped for the best. And I knew I wasn’t always normal. Most people had a little voice in the back of their head that let them know what was okay to say out loud. Well, that voice fell out and died when my mom dropped me as a baby.

“Excuse me for trying to save the planet,” I fibbed. “We’re in a global climate crisis, you know.”

He snorted at that, and for a fraction of a second, I swore I spotted a smile. I took that as a huge win.

Then he pushed the packages my way again. “Be downstairs at seven thirty on the dot, and if you speak excessively in the car, you’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Thank you so much, sir.” I grinned and hurriedly scooped up the packages again. “I’ll have the bottle rewrapped. I’m looking forward to my walk. See you tomorrow.”

Gotta love a Christmas brat and a Christmas Daddy…

I loved the dynamic between Parker and Wyatt. Parker is goofy and silly but also takes his job seriously but is all about being a bratty brat. Especially with Wyatt. Who everyone thinks is a grouchy curmudgeon, which kind of he is. Until Parker changes him. Then Wyatt turns into a pile of goo with cartoon heart eyes.

But don’t you worry, he embraces the Daddy role in the bedroom no problem. And out of the bedroom without the sex. He and Parker are like 2 pieces of a puzzle and just meld together perfectly.

This whirlwind romance is a great read. Even though it is short the characters are well developed, the story doesn’t seem rushed AND we get a character cameo appearance. A Cara Dee specialty.

The *only* thing that didn’t jibe was that Parker and his 2 work mates seemed to be tech support at the beginning but then were graphic design. Tiny detail.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. 

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. 

Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write. 

Find Cara on social media here: https://www.caradeewrites.com/cdwlandingpage