Unleashed

Book 1: Hamilton Christmas Novella

by Donna Kauffman

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Holiday Romance

Synopsis

A raging winter storm and a holiday spent pet-sitting reveals there’s more than one kind of animal in the house … When Emma Lafferty is hired by a billionaire CEO to watch his pets over the holidays, she expects to enjoy a quiet Christmas in opulent surroundings. What she doesn’t expect is to spend the week trapped in the mansion with Trevor Hamilton, the CEO’s sexy great-nephew—and heir—whose motives are as shady as his desire is crystal clear … Praise for Donna Kauffman and her novels “Kauffman’s stories show that the bravery to reach for a connection is all we need to discover joy; she excels at expressing the struggles and joys of giving in to love.” —Publishers Weekly on Sandpiper Island “We all know where there's Donna Kauffman, there's a rollicking, sexy read chock-full of charm and sparkle. Kauffman's characters are adorably human and so very magnetic.” — USAToday.com “Kauffman pens a touching romance . . . a quirky community and secondary characters with enough personality to make readers want to come back. A light romance with a touch of heat, a pinch of intensity and a dash of mysterious small-town magic.” —Kirkus Reviews on Pelican Point “Sassy, witty, and sexy.” —Library Journal on Snowflake Bay “Charming characters, emotion galore, a small town—you’re going to love Donna Kauffman!” — Lori Foster Previously published in TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT

Release date: September 25, 2018

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 117

Sample

Emma Lafferty’s life had gone to the dogs. Literally. And to the cats. And the parakeets, goldfish, hamsters, even the occasional potbelly pig. What it and her fledgling pet-sitting service hadn’t gone to was her bank account. Not enough, anyway.

She glanced quickly—again—at the Google map printout she’d made based on the reams of detailed information she’d gotten from Lionel Hamilton’s assistant. She’d always done better with a visual map rather than the go-south-on-route-whatever type instructions. Who knew which way south was? As luck would have it—her luck anyway—the aerial route had looked a lot simpler online. Of course, online, she hadn’t been trying to find a strange house in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, during a surprise winter ice storm.

“Happy holidays to me,” she muttered, squinting through the permanently fogged windshield of her beloved, but beat-up Land Rover.

She cracked the windows a bit farther, hoping in vain that would help clear the view a bit more, then rolled her side window down enough to reach out and slap the wiper against the windshield. Again. The rapidly building crust didn’t even budge. Her headlights barely penetrated the sheet of dense gray in front of her. Regardless, she couldn’t risk getting out on such a narrow, winding road. One oncoming vehicle and she’d be toast.

She slowed as she reached the peak of yet another long hill, bracing herself for the drive down the other side. Actually, a controlled slide was probably the best she could hope for at this point. “Why,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “Why did I agree to this?”

She knew why. Chelsea, her best friend and cohort since their days together at Tech, had sold her on what had, admittedly, sounded like a pretty sweet deal. Chelsea was in Human Resources at Hamilton Industries, and she’d heard through the grapevine that the grand poobah himself, Lionel Hamilton, was looking for someone to take care of his home and assorted pets over the holidays. A sudden change in dates for a scheduled business trip to the Far East had, apparently, thrown a last-minute wrench into his holiday plans.

Emma had thought it odd that one of Lionel’s many household staffers hadn’t taken on the job, but Chelsea explained that he’d already surprised them with an extended vacation for the two weeks over Christmas and New Year’s and didn’t want to rescind the offer.

The dilemma for Emma had been that the job required her to live on premises as both house sitter and pet sitter, and, being that he housed his pets at his weekend residence, said premises was a good two hours outside of town. Which meant she’d have to turn her regular clients down. During one of the busiest seasons of the year. But the pay was ridiculously good, and while she certainly wanted to make her newly established client base happy, Chelsea had also pointed out that doing a good job for Lionel Hamilton might be her ticket to building the kind of clientele any business would love to have. The kind with deep pockets and no time to manage their own lives, much less their own pets. So, Emma had crossed her fingers…and taken the deal.

Hamilton Industries was a conglomerate that owned most of Randolph County, Virginia, and employed pretty much everyone in it. Everyone except Emma. She’d removed herself from their payroll seven months earlier when a small inheritance had given her the gumption to do what she’d always wanted to do—open her own business.

Emma’s former job in accounting would have led to a nice, stable career. She was good at her job, and it was a dependable source of income. The only problem was it bored her to tears. In fact, she’d hated it. The idea of toting up long columns of numbers for the rest of her natural days left her feeling numb inside. She didn’t want to be numb. At twenty-nine, she was too young to be numb.

She smacked the dashboard, trying to beat the heater into functioning, not missing the irony as her teeth chattered so hard her jaw hurt. “So, I open my own business, and I’m still numb. Just literally, now.”

Three treacherous hills and numerous Hail Mary’s later, Emma finally spied the huge wrought iron gate, announcing the entrance to Lionel Hamilton’s mountain getaway. As she made her way slowly up the immense circular drive, she found herself wondering, if this was the weekend house, what did his everyday house looked like?

It was amazing even beyond what she and Chelsea had imagined during the hours of animated discussion they’d indulged in since she’d agreed to take the job. The massive marble pillars and soaring double-door entrance alone would have sent her best friend into gossip nirvana, Emma thought as she navigated her way around to the separate garage in the rear. Not that she wasn’t goggling over the place herself. In fact, she could hardly wait to get settled in so she could call Chelsea and share every detail.

She used the garage door opener that had been messengered to her, along with a small, bound notebook containing the most anal-retentive, detailed list of instructions, notes, and maps she’d ever seen in her life—and was profoundly grateful to have, as she’d accepted the job without ever directly speaking to Mr. Hamilton. She’d gotten a handful of his assistants instead, over the phone, via e-mail, and text message, all of them borderline frantic to make certain she followed the notebook to the letter. Emma had assured the seemingly harried crew that she’d be fine, privately wondering what the hell she’d really signed on for. Then the notebook had arrived. And she’d been a little worried ever since. Maybe more than a little.

Hamilton apparently micromanaged his pets and his home the way he did his assistants. It was no wonder his employees sounded like they needed antacid chasers with every meal. She was close to that herself, and she hadn’t even officially started the job yet.

Reminding herself how great the payday was going to be, plus the potential future clients the job would nab, Emma took a deep breath and eased her Land Rover into the ten-car garage. She then spent the next several minutes jaw-dropped as she stared at the half dozen or so very shiny, very expensive cars. She pulled in next to a midnight-blue Maserati and parked, then patted the dash of her Land Rover. “Don’t let them make you feel bad. You have character.”

She turned on the overhead light, sighing in relief when it didn’t flicker back off, then consulted the first of the many detailed house maps in the addendum section of the notebook. After making sure the garage door was closed behind her and the alarm light activated, she grabbed two of her lighter bags, and made her way to the main house through an enclosed passageway. Once she made sure she could get in and move around without setting off the alarm system, she’d unpack the rest. But first she wanted to go introduce herself to her charges.

They didn’t come to meet her at the door, but her notebook had explained that they would be penned up off the kitchen in the back, awaiting her arrival. She just followed the barking. And a voice shouting, “Welcome! Right this way!”

She wound her way through the expansive foyer, around the central staircase, then down one long hallway before finally coming to the double swinging doors that led to the kitchen. If you wanted to call it that. It did, indeed, have kitchen appliances and a large workstation in the center of one part of the immense room. That was the smaller part, though there was nothing small about it. Martha Stewart would weep for such a well-appointed kitchen space. But Emma’s attention was drawn to the rest of the room, starting with the overlarge, low, round table, patterned in beautiful detailed mosaic tiles. The chairs surrounding it were cushioned with heavy brown and burgundy pillows and the whole thing was framed with an immense stone fireplace.

“Welcome! Right this way!”

Smiling, she went over to the huge wrought iron aviary and smiled at the rather imperious African Grey perched inside. “You must be Cicero.”

“Cicero!” he repeated. “Welcome!” Then he whistled a beautiful tune that Emma didn’t know the title of, but couldn’t help laughing at, as she enjoyed his little show. She then turned her attention to the series o. . .