The Office Guest – Holiday Homecoming Read Online Whitney G

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 37751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)

This could possibly be the worst holiday season ever…

My ex-boyfriend just booked the best suite at the resort where I work (with his new girlfriend, not me), half of the staff has called in sick with the flu (they’re lying so they can attend a huge festival in town), and my sister is driving me crazy with her incessant wedding planning.

These things wouldn’t normally be a big deal during any other season, but “Christmas” changes everything.

And this Christmas, my “little big lie” about a non-existent fiancé is finally in danger of being exposed to my family …
To prevent that from happening, I decide to download The Office Guest.

It’s an app for anyone who needs to hire a “fake & attractive businessman” to impress close family and friends.

At least, that’s what I was hoping for.

When the guy I selected bails on me at the last minute, the app promises to send me “an even sexier replacement.”

They must’ve meant “the devil wrapped in red,” because this guy is not some random actor.

And he’s definitely not a “fake” businessman…

He’s my former boss.

The asshole who fired me four Christmases ago.

Okay, now it’s officially the worst holiday season ever...

This is the second standalone novella in The Holiday Homecoming Collection.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


Urgent Notice: Termination of Account

Dear Miss Georgia Grey,

We are writing to inform you that your account with The Office Guest app is officially terminated as of today.

Due to repeated violation(s)—some of which are addressed below—you may no longer browse our stellar candidates or request temporary stand-ins for business and familial occasions.

As a reminder, you are not allowed to ask our “guests” to show up to your job for you, “stand outside [your] bastard boss’s window and throw up a middle finger while blasting that ‘I Don’t F*ck with You’ rap song,” or “deflate the tires of whatever overpriced sports car is parked in the CEO spot.”

Please revisit our terms & conditions.

You may reapply for access after one (1) calendar year.


The Office Guest Team

P.S. Your “secret” accounts—Bee Bee Grey, Georgia on Your Mind, & Please Help Me (I Hate My Boss & My Life)—are terminated as well.




Two Months Before Christmas

2 o’clock a.m

“Intruder alert!” “Call to authorities in progress!” “Intruder alert!”

Sirens are blaring in my condo, drowning out my dreams with every passing second.

I pick up my cell phone to turn it off, but the system sings louder, and the words “Wrong password! Home lights are deactivated!” flash across my screen.

What the hell is going on?

Groaning, I roll out of bed and head to my bathroom in utter darkness. I splash my face with cold water and brush my teeth, anxiously awaiting the system to come to its senses, but my condo remains black.

Before I can attempt to turn off the system again, heavy footsteps hit the hallway.

“Over here!” a deep voice yells. “He’s not in his bed!”

“Check the library and the kitchen! Move!” another says.

The door suddenly swings open, and someone shines a flashlight into my eyes.

“He’s right here!” The guy’s voice is louder than the alarm system. “Mr. Reiss is safe!”

“I’m sorry to wake you up at this hour, sir.” Walsh, my head of security, shines a blinding light into my eyes. “We need to move you to a secure location as soon as possible.”

“Is the world ending or something?”

“Sir, we have reason to believe that someone is plotting to murder you.”


“I’ll explain everything in the car. Let’s go.”

“Can I get dressed first?”

“You don’t have enough time for that.” He tosses me a robe. “This will have to do.”

“You could at least let me put on a shirt.”

Without another word, he herds me onto the private elevator, and I convince myself that this is a twisted dream. That there’s no way anyone would fuck with me when I’m months away from closing the biggest deal of my career.

When we reach the car, the driver speeds onto the street.

“We’ve noticed a spike in searches on the company IP address.” Walsh hands me a tablet. “And tonight, someone breached your personal laptop.”

“That’s impossible,” I say. “It needs my fingerprint approval to work.”

“See for yourself.” He motions for me to look at the screen.

“How much arsenic can you put in someone’s coffee to make them sick, but not sick enough to die?” “What about antifreeze?” “Are 9 to 5 jobs cruel and unusual punishment?”

“These searches intensified recently, sir,” he says. “We believe that someone is trying to sabotage you.”

“I can’t believe you dragged me out of bed for this.” I roll my eyes. “Can you have my assistant bring a suit to the office, please?”

“Ten steps ahead of you.” He refreshes the screen. “We really need to take this seriously, sir. This is more of what we found.”

I resist the urge to toss the tablet out the window. Then, I look over the results.

“How long do Audi Spider tires take to deflate?” “Hitman for hire but just for small tasks, not the murder part, at least not immediately.” “Can I bribe a barista to add a pinch of rat poison to a coffee order? Would I go to prison for that or just the barista?” “Dominic Reiss has a very ‘stabbable’ neck.” “How to unblock Pinterest on my work computer.”

“Interesting.” I smile. “When exactly did these searches start?”

“Two weeks ago, sir. I can promise you that this is nothing to smile about.”

I hold back a laugh.

The timeline molds perfectly to when a certain employee was demoted from ‘team leader’ to ‘intern’ because she refused to learn what “mandatory overtime” meant. A certain employee who is by far the sexiest woman I’d ever met, but the worst associate Human Resources has ever hired at my company.

“Would you like me to notify the FBI about this, Mr. Reiss?” Walsh asks.

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t feel the slightest bit threatened.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Very sure, Walsh.” I look at my watch. “We don’t need to take this any further.”

“As you wish, but you’re not going back home until this afternoon.” He makes a few calls as the driver speeds through the streets.

Once we reach headquarters, I admire the golden “Reiss Enterprises” sign outside the steps. No matter how often I see it, I’m reminded of how hard I’ve worked since turning sixteen to get to where I am today.