Her Christmas Vixen (Holliday Islands Resort Book 4) Read online

  Her Christmas Vixen

  Holliday Islands Resort

  Ginny Sterling

  Her Christmas Vixen, Copyright © 2019 by Ginny Sterling

  These books are works of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of these books may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without express written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for supporting the author’s rights.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Preface

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Lawfully Gifted

  Remember Love

  An Agent for Gillian

  Comet’s Blazing Love by Jenna Brandt

  About the Author

  Preface

  HOLLIDAY ISLANDS RESORT SERIES

  After growing his Alaskan resort empire into the “honeymooner’s paradise of the world,” Gordon Holliday is ready to retire. But there’s no way he can cruise the globe in his luxury yacht until his sons are groomed and polished into proper executives to take his place. There’s just one catch: He’s convinced their biggest current job requirement is marriage!

  To help find the perfect matches for his nine billionaire playboy sons, he secretly enlists the help of a high-end matchmaker, Evelyn Reese of True Love Connection, Inc. (TLC.net). She visits the islands under the auspices of becoming a future investor and begins to work her magic. What ensues is a delightful romp of sizzling new business “partnerships” and dates, laugh-out-loud mayhem, and sweet holiday attractions. You won’t want to miss a single one! Join us at the Chat, Sip, and Read group on Facebook for parties, live chats, giveaways, and other festivities surrounding the launch of this sweet holiday romantic comedy series: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ChatSipandRead

  Book 1: The Dashing Groom — Jo Grafford

  Book 2: Dancing to the Altar — Christi Bortner

  Book 3: Love Came Prancing — Danni Roan

  Book 4: His Christmas Vixen — Ginny Sterling

  Book 5: Comet’s Blazing Love — Jenna Brandt

  Book 6: Cupid Takes a Wife — Marie Higgins

  Book 7: Donner Let Her Go — Amelia Adams

  Book 8: Blitzen the CEO — Lisa Prysock

  Book 9: Rudolph’s Runaway Bride — George McVey

  Book 10: Mommy’s Kissing Santa — Kit Morgan

  Her Christmas Vixen

  A savvy businesswoman, a billionaire needing to save his inheritance and a secret matchmaker who brings them together.

  Ophelia Sims is a recognized name in the art world. She has an eye for identifying unique art and brokers these priceless pieces for her wealthy clients. But her passion is helping others create their own art heirlooms. When she is offered the chance to develop her own personal brand, she jumps at the chance to bring couples and art together. What she didn’t count on travelling to Alaska to work with the illustrious playboy extraordinaire, Vick Holliday.

  Billionaire, Victor ‘Vixen’ Holliday knew the moment he set eyes on Ophelia that she was trouble. The sassy curator even had the nerve to evict him from one of her exhibits! Imagine his surprise when she arrived in Alaska to help him save his resort. Now, if she could just get past his reputation and let him into her heart.

  Can Ophelia see past the arrogant flirt that she working with? Can Vick let his guard down, revealing the shy artist lurking beneath the gruff exterior? Will Ophelia’s plan for saving Vixen Island work or will the slow burn between them take flame like the molten glass ornaments they create?

  Praise for Ginny Sterling

  What can I say except I absolutely loved this story, I laughed out loud and I shed emotional tears.” – Amazon Reviewer (Lawfully Gifted)

  “This series has quickly become one my favorites. Love the storyline, love the characters, love the back stories and love the sweet romance between each couple.” – Amazon Reviewer (Remember Love)

  “What an amazing start to a new series, Healing Hearts, a clean contemporary and extremely emotional tale. I loved the characters, the angst, and the honest discussions, along with the chemistry and interactions. The people are broken, but with encouragement, friendship, and the added benefit of animals, it is the beginnings for healing.” – Amazon Reviewer (Remember Hope)

  Chapter 1

  Smoothing her skirt, Ophelia Sims took a deep breath and walked out among the elite upper crust of New York City. The click of her shoes across the marble floor would not go unnoticed. She called the tall high heels she’d found her ‘power pumps’ because they made her feel invincible – like she belonged. This was the crème-de-la-crème of the art world casually mingling, laughing, and chit-chatting with each other around pieces of artwork that had been around for hundreds of years, worth millions or billions of dollars… and brokering the sale tonight would garner her a fraction of those zeros.

  Grabbing a crystal flute off of a nearby tray that was being held, she straightened her spine and put on the ‘mask’ that would be needed to close the deal. She was here to sell the impressionist piece that hung front and center on display in the private gallery. You had to know someone in order to be invited – and she knew them all. Her rolodex and cellphone were full of famous names with equally infamous bank accounts. She’d sold a Monet last year that earned her enough to pay for her car outright, however, Monets or other such pieces didn’t just fall into your lap – nor did millions of dollars - without some hard work. Ophelia was superb at working a room in order to get her way.

  Tonight would be no exception.

  She had it on first-hand knowledge that several celebrities would be here tonight, as well as a representative for a movie producer, and even one of the illustrious Holliday family members would be here. The Hollidays owned several islands off the coast of Alaska and operated a posh retreat for the elite, something that just blew her mind. When she thought of a rich person taking a vacation, she pictured Bora Bora or Fiji… not Alaska. Apparently, it was the ‘in’ place to go if you wanted to get away from the paparazzi or disappear for a bit.

  Smiling, Ophelia took a sip of the champagne and was pleased to see her lipstick didn’t mar the delicate crystal. It was the little things that made you fit in. Her patent leather shoes had bright red lacquer painted on the bottom to make them resemble Christian Louboutins. If anyone commented, she played it off. Her outfit was comprised of a simple button-up dress shirt - double starch naturally - with her initials embroidered at the cuffs, and a sleek black pencil skirt that meant business. She was here to slay them all visually and mentally while she eviscerated their wallets – to put it bluntly. Her goal was to make a killer sale for top dollar, and this was just another notch on the ladder of success for her career. Today it was the auction house, tomorrow – she would rule her own world!

  Someday, her art would be on display in a museum for others to enjoy, and she would make the Sims name recognized easily like the others who came before her. Murano, Matisse, Degas, or Chihuly… well, maybe not to their extent, she thought wryly, but it would be great to see her stuff on the shelves at a department store.

  “Isn’t this a lovely piece?” Ophelia said lightly, smiling. She recognized the woman nearby as any New Yorker worth their clout would. Evelyn Reese was a well-known model and widow of a fireman who’d passed away during the 9/11 tragedy. Classy, beautiful, and elegant, she’d seen the woman several times before at these events.

  “Are we talking about the men here or the paintings?”

  “The paintings.”

  “Then very much so,” Evelyn admitted warmly. “Sometimes there is something so unexpected in the recreated scene that it makes you feel an emotion that is unexpected. Impressionism does that for me. I am drawn to the subtle hues and the way I feel a part of the scene.”

  “Renoir,” Ophelia confirmed, nodding. “One of my favorites.”

  “Not your namesake?”

  “Sims?”

  “No, dear,” Evelyn chuckled, taking a sip of the bubbly. “Ophelia, like the character from the Shakespearian play or the painting by Sir John Millais.”

  “Impressive,” Ophelia admitted, lightly tipping her own flute against Evelyn’s, “very astute in your love of the arts. Not many people can rattle off Millais’ name that easily and so confidently.”

  “When you are here to admire the artwork and the people, don’t you make it your business to get to know the people you’ll be speaking to? A pleasure to meet you, Lady Ophelia,” Evelyn said softly and moved on to the next painting, leaving Ophelia standing there speechless.

  Had she just been counseled, or dressed down by the woman?

  She wasn’t sure.

  She seemed very kind, but her words had an undercurrent to them that was downright unsettling to her confidence. It was like she knew that Ophelia was playing a part this evening and she’d just been unmasked in front of everyone prior to the reveal. Glancing around, she saw it was getting a bit more crowded in
the room and the champagne was flowing a bit more freely. Good. This meant as the evening wore on, there was sure to be a buyer tonight that would meet the steep reserve that was set on the painting. One point two million wasn’t chump change.

  Hearing a rambunctious high-pitched laugh, Ophelia walked around the corridor to see two women practically hanging off the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on – and she could have sworn that title was held by Chris Evans, who was standing in the other atrium in front of the Salvador Dali.

  This man was lean and tanned in a black tailored suit that fit him perfectly. His grey eyes were glued to the painting in front of him as he stared at it in admiration. The two obnoxious women were pulling on his arms trying to get his attention and causing a disturbance. They’d apparently had quite a bit of champagne this evening.

  “Miss,” Ophelia said gently to the woman who looked to be wearing a hot pink tube top and black vinyl skirt, “if you don’t mind lowering your voice, please.”

  “Vick’s shopping so you can’t tell me what to do,” the woman snapped, pouting tackily and pulling on the man’s suit jacket again. “Vick, tell her you’re shopping and I don’t have to get quiet.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said absently, not even looking at anyone. “Is this by Sisley?”

  “Yes, it is – and yes, she does need to lower her voice. She’s disturbing the guests,” Ophelia said tightly. She felt her breath hitch as he slid a cold glance towards her and smiled lazily. The smile did not reach his piercing grey eyes. The two women kept on mouthing sassily, making snide comments that set her blood boiling.

  “See? We told you!”

  “You can’t tell us what to do!”

  “Vick, I’m bored. Can’t we go?”

  “What’s this piece called?” he said flatly, jerking his arm out of the clutches of the brunette woman who let out a shriek of outrage that made Ophelia wince as it echoed off the marble and glass of the building. The conversations around them suddenly grew silent except for the women standing nearby.

  “It’s called Bridge at Villeneuve-la-Garenne,” Ophelia said quietly, feeling her heart pound angrily as she struggled to keep her temper in check. Great, it was one of those cursed Reindeer Brothers! He simply nodded and looked away from her, back towards the painting as if nothing had happened. If she wasn’t mad before, this reaction simply ignited the fuse inside of her.

  “It’s also your sign to depart, sir. I thank you for coming this evening,” she bit out firmly with a smile as the women began to talk above her again. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence of the room, save the two airheads that were chatting about getting their nails done in a nasally voice. One of the women plucked her hot pink gum from her mouth and dropped it on the marble floor disgustingly, smiling at Ophelia.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s a shame I do,” she retorted, trying to keep her voice from becoming shrill as her temper erupted at the sight of that pink blob on the exquisite expanse of white. They were utterly atrocious. “Your friends are disturbing the event.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Not particularly,” Ophelia admitted, playing dumb and trying to keep herself nonchalant, “nor do I care.”

  “I’m Victor Holliday.”

  “And you are free to leave before I call the police.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “I could buy this place - with you in it.”

  “And yet – you don’t own it, nor me – now, get out.”

  “You are making a big mistake kicking me out…”

  “Actually, I think the mistake I made was letting you in,” Ophelia snapped and heard a snort of female laughter behind her. She avoided the urge to turn around and see who it was. “Now, shall I have your car pulled around for you and your…ah, companions?”

  The gorgeous man with the icy cool eyes stared at her in disbelief before shaking his head. She knew he was angry because of the ruddy stain that colored his cheekbones. He opened his mouth to say something and instead, walked right past her silently. She smelled a hint of vanilla as he walked past that tickled her nose right before it was squashed by the scent of hairspray as the women caroused past her, sticking out their tongues and giving her an obscene gesture.

  What kind of sleezeball with his kind of money spent his time with trashy women? Is that what men liked out of a woman? Aggressive, unrefined, and with obviously loose inhibitions? It was no wonder that she was still single at thirty years old. She would never, ever, act like the display she’d just witnessed – nor would she live down the fact that she’d just tossed Victor Holliday out into the night.

  Taking a deep breath, Ophelia grabbed a napkin from one of the hors d’oeuvers tables and knelt down carefully, picking up the disgusting piece of gum off of the floor before anyone stepped in it. Conversation began to pick back up around her, dulling the roar of her own heartbeat in her mind as she tried to bring her temper back down.

  “Bravo, dear!” Evelyn cheered, clapping her long hands together lightly. “I do believe that was a first for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Holliday thrown out of anything before in my life! I believe he was telling the truth about being able to buy this building.”

  “I’m sure he was,” Ophelia said softly, feeling sick to her stomach as she realized what she’d just done and the impact it might have to her career. “I’m so going to be fired for this.”

  “Actually – I might have someone that wants to speak to you,” Evelyn said with a sly smile, handing her a business card from her clutch.

  * * *

  Disbelief and mortification ran through Vick’s body as he waited stonily for the valet to bring around his vehicle. He knew he was living a lifestyle that many could only dream of and the roar of his Bugatti Veyron cemented the thought in his head. People usually cowed down or bent over backwards once they heard the Holliday name – but not this woman! He could practically feel the eyes on his back as he leaned back into the darkness to avoid the paparazzi that he knew would be hovering like piranhas nearby. They were there to see the models, celebrities, and would jump at the chance to make a mockery of his life.

  “C’mon Vick,” the woman whined irritatingly, “Let’s go back inside and tell that snooty girl what for. How dare she throw you out of there.”

  “Just go away, please,” Vick said feeling utterly defeated. No good deed ever went unpunished apparently. He’d seen the women standing outside of the gallery and naively assumed that they were hoping to get a glimpse of the artwork inside. Like a fool, he’d invited them to join him with the promise of dinner afterwards so he simply wasn’t alone anymore. He knew what it looked like – he wasn’t that big of an idiot – but he was also desperately searching for something more in his life, someone that held the same interests as him.

  It sure wasn’t either of these two leeches, he thought morosely.

  Vick hoped he could avoid the tabloids again this week. Last time, it had been a waitress in Italy he’d smiled at. The angle of the camera made it look like they were fixing to kiss and he’d gotten the pep talk about the family name. The very same discussion he’d gotten three weeks before after another trashy magazine printed a photo of him coming out of the ocean in Malta in a speedo. He didn’t even own a speedo! It was so obviously photoshopped it was ridiculous.

  Once again, his father had called, concerned about how ‘his little son Vixen’ was misbehaving. Vick had torn the palm of his hand paragliding. The nurse claimed he was there to be tested for STD’s and that she was pregnant with his child. He’d never seen the woman before in his life and had to explain that he had five stitches in his hand.