a very cheeky christmas

  the naughty list

  Kat Baxter

  contents

  A Very Cheeky Christmas

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading!

  Excerpt from Bachelor #10

  About the author

  a very cheeky christmas

  I’ve been voted Mr. Perfect Cheeks for the last five years. Though I do have a nice smile, it’s not those cheeks that warrant the attention. So yeah, my behind is my bread and butter. But when my most lucrative asset is injured, I’m sent to the set medic. To say I fall head over derriere in love with her is an understatement. Maxine is jaded about love though, so it’ll take all my small-town Texas charm to woo this curvy California grump that I’m in it, to win it. And by it, I mean her.

  A Very Cheeky Christmas

  Kat Baxter

  Copyright 2022 by Kat Baxter

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’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 this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Edited by: Emily Beierle-McKaskle

  Copyeditor: BookReadingJenn

  Book cover: Cormar Covers

  With regard to digital publication, be advised that any alteration of font size or spacing by the reader could change the author’s original format.

  **originally published in the limited release anthology Humbug Hollywood

  Created with Vellum

  chapter one

  Maxine

  The thing about romantic comedies is that anything seems possible for the hour and a half that you’re watching them. Then when the credits start to roll, the bubble bursts and you go back to the real world where there’s no such thing as love like that.

  My family has been peddling the myth of happily ever after since long before I was born. It’s hard not to be cynical about love when you grow up in the movie industry.

  That’s just one of the reasons I’d promised myself a long time ago that I would never work on a movie set.

  When you come from a movie family, people expect it of you, but I had zero interest. Between my grandfather (movie producer and President of the company), my uncles (all producers), my dad (a director), my mom (movie starlet) and my cousins (also actors), I spent more than enough of my childhood on sets and various locations, thank you very much.

  When people find out who my family is, the initial reaction varies. I’ve gotten everything from a startled laugh to a confused slow blink. But they always end up in the same place: Wait. Why don’t you want to work in the movie industry?

  Believe it or not, some people don’t want to be surrounded by the vain and self-centered. Okay, maybe that’s not the entire industry. Maybe it’s just my family.

  Thankfully I’m unattractive enough by Hollywood standards that I’ve been kept out of the press. I was able to go to medical school and do my thing and everything was peachy until I pissed off my grandfather enough. I finally crossed the line. He cut me off and now I’ve been forced to take a semester off.

  Which is why I’m breaking the promise I made to myself and going to work on a movie set. A job I had to beg a friend for, because … you know, college debt is a real thing.

  I blow out a breath and quickly swerve into the other lane. No using turn signals in LA; that just gives all the asswipes behind you enough time to speed up and close the distance between them and the cars in front of them.

  Where was I? Oh, right, pissing off the patriarch of the family.

  I knew I’d never been the old man’s favorite. Thankfully there were always some other family members that were willing to lay prostrate at his feet and fill his ears with bullshit confirming his illusions of grandeur. Mostly, I stayed out of his way, even after he got custody of me when my parents died in a small plane crash. I grew up in Hollywood Hills, but mostly flew under his radar.

  He was kind of like a cross between Hugh Hefner and James Cameron, eccentric and ridiculously wealthy to a degree that complete strangers indulged his every whim.

  There’s a slight chance he actually forgot I existed, even though I lived in his house and paid for my med school out of the trust he’d set up for me. Maybe that was why he seemed surprised to find me making myself a pot of tea in the kitchen one night last month.

  You’re supposed to be the heiress to Lionheart Productions. Look at you. I can’t tell anyone you’re my granddaughter.

  My fat ass isn’t what got me cut out of the will and my monthly allowance revoked. Nope, that had been my big, fat mouth. Because I’d heard his old scratchy voice say that from behind me and when I spun around to face him, I promptly told my grandfather he could fuck right off if he didn’t like how I looked.

  I didn’t give a shit about being his heiress. I didn’t even care about having a monthly allowance. I didn’t need to be a kept woman. Yes, it had been nice, I can’t lie about that. But I was smart enough to make my own fucking money.

  Since I still have a year of med school left and I don’t want to drown in an ocean of debt, I need a job.

  So, when a friend of mine had called begging me to help him out, I readily agreed. Even though the job was on the set of a movie.

  It’s a temporary gig, but I’m currently the set medic for A Heartwarming Christmas Movie, which is a terrible title. I mean really, let’s be a little more clichéd. More like A Heartwarming Christmas Movie set in a charming small town with snowball fights and hot cocoa in front of the fireplace where everyone falls in love and lives happily ever after.

  Gag me!

  But if it means spending my winter break making money that will help pay for my next semester, I will swallow the Alka-Seltzer, stifle my gag reflex and spend Christmas with the beautiful people. It won’t kill me.

  Probably.

  chapter two

  Andrew

  I have a great ass.

  It’s true. I’m not even bragging. It is, in fact, my job to have a good behind. Well, technically my work often goes beyond my booty, but my ass is what gets me the jobs. I’m a set double, body double, ass double. Whatever you want to call it.

  When leading men don’t want to do naked work, they call on me. I don’t mind showing off my body as long as I don’t have to act or show my face. Not that there’s anything wrong with my face, but doing the physical work of a scene is what I’m good at.

  That most recent big budget alien action flick… yeah, that was my ass. It was painted blue for the movie, but still me. Hollywood has been good to me and I’ve been smart with my money, investing most of it because I knew with a job like mine, eventually the work would move on to younger guys. I’m approaching forty and frankly I’m getting tired of the work.

  I’m ready to find my lady love and settle down, fill our house with kids and live happily ever after. Isn’t that what all these movies we make are about?

  Okay, not that one asteroid movie. I wasn’t in that one, thank goodness because everyone died. Talk about depressing.

  In any case, I’m on set working with the director on blocking a scene. It’s one of the more technical parts of my job and something I enjoy quite a bit. I’m basically like a living prop though, really used just to get the lighting and camera angles set up correctly on shots they want to try to get in one take.

  “This isn’t working,” Luca, the director, mutters to himself.

  That’s when I see her. And by her, I mean HER. The woman I’ve noticed on set since we’ve been working for all of three days now on this new movie. It’s a rushed, last minute holiday flick that seems to have everyone in a bad mood. Not me, I don’t tend to get in bad moods much.

  Seems like a waste of energy, especially when a cold beer and an orgasm can fix most things.

  “Luca, hold up. I think I know what would help.” I step off the set and lightly jog over to her. I step right in front of her path. “Hey,” I say.

  She frowns and tries to walk around me.

  “Wait, I wanna talk to you.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Perfect, Andrew,” Luca calls. “Yes, Maxine, can you help us out for a few minutes?”

  Maxine’s blue eyes widen behind her black-rimmed glasses. She gives Luca a tight smile, then shoots me a tiny glare before setting down her stuff on the concrete floor.

  “What can I do?” Maxine asks Luca.

  She’s clearly done with me which I find fucking delightful. I don’t know why. The fact that she’s not immediately charmed by me is refreshing, I guess. Or maybe I just am drawn to her sass. More likely I’m drawn to that plump ass of hers and her full tits; she’s all curves and softness, but when she talks, her voice is sharp and edgy. There’s also an undeniable intelligence shining in her eyes and fuck if that’s not catnip for me. Especially after living in this vapid wasteland for the last decade.

  Hollywood is known for is pretty views, not for its intellectual stimulation. Not that Saddle Creek, TX, my small hometown, is an epicenter of culture. But I do miss going to the library, then walking down to Ruthie’s Diner with a stack of books to pore over while I eat one of her famous burgers.

  “Andrew,” Luca barks.

  “Right.” I tear my eyes away from Maxine’s curvy backside which somehow had me homesick for my favorite juicy hamburger. There’s something about this woman, I can feel it.

  I make my way back into the fake living room where there’s a Christmas tree and a stack of boxes leaning against the wall. They’re empty boxes, but in the story of the movie they’re filled with all kinds of decorations for the two main love interests to get tangled up in. Or something like that.

  Luca is explaining the scene and the whole concept of blocking and the angle of the cameras and lighting. She’s just staring at him like he’s a complete idiot.

  “I think she’s got it, Luca. Let’s just give it a go.” I say, giving a gentle tug on the director’s shirt sleeve. We’ve worked together multiple times before, so he knows me.

  He growls, which is par for his course, but still walks off the platform and moves back to the camera area.

  “Explain the set up to her while we adjust the equipment,” Luca yells.

  She gives me a snort of derision. “Who are you, like the main actor?”

  “No, sweetheart, I’m just his set double.”

  Those blue eyes of hers roll. “So what is it that I need to do?”

  “This is one of those scenes they want to preferably get in one take so that’s why we—”

  “I know what scene blocking is, jackass. Just tell me about this scene.”

  Fuck. Why does that sassy mouth make my dick hard? “Sure thing. The heroine is just walking through the room and a tower of boxes nearly topples over, hero rushes over to sweep her out of the way, they end up plastered against the wall together.”

  She glances to her left at said tower of boxes. “What are in them?”

  “Nothing. But they’re supposed to be filled with Christmas decorations. I’m Andrew, by the way.”

  “Max.”

  “I’ve seen you here, but never on any other sets. Are you a new actress?” I ask.

  She snorts. “Yeah, right. Because they hire female stars with asses like mine all the time.”

  I look down even though I can’t exactly see much of her ass from this angle. But her hips and thighs are thick and curvy. “They should, because your body is damn near perfect.”

  She laughs and the sound is pure fucking magic. It’s like a salve on sunburnt skin or water quenching a parched throat. Where has this woman been all my life?

  “Oh my God! Do lines like that usually work?”

  I raise a brow at her. “Who says it’s a line?”

  She puts her fists on her hips. “That is blatantly… obviously a line.”

  “Okay, so the boxes are toppling, and you move now Andrew,” Luca calls.

  I grab Maxine and maneuver out of the imaginary harm’s way, putting her back up against the fake wallpapered wall.

  “Excellent. Now step closer and brace your hands on either side of her head.”

  I do as I’m told, leaning in closer to Maxine. She sucks in a breath that, had I not heard it, I might have missed. She’s not as unaffected by me as she’s pretending to be.

  “Okay, if you’re not an actress, then what do you do on set?”

  “I am in charge of color-coding all of the glitter used in the scenes.”

  “Maxine, put your hands on Andrew’s hips,” Luca says.

  She swallows visibly, but then I feel her hands on the outsides of my jeans.

  “No, no! I know you’re not an actress,” Luca yells. “But can you pretend you want to be there. Grab onto him.”

  Her fingers curl into my hips and fuck me, Luca doesn’t even know what he’s asking of me.

  I lick my lips, flick my eyes down to her mouth briefly, then back up to her gaze.

  “This is so forced and contrived. I will never understand how costars hook up so frequently,” she says, but her voice has lost some of its edge.

  “Are you doubting the necessity of our fearless hero saving our intrepid heroine?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please. If the boxes are falling and she can’t get out of the way before he has time to run across the room and save her, then maybe she deserves to get crushed.”

  “Maybe shock and panic keep her from moving.”

  This time she snorts. “What is she? An armadillo? Does she roll into a ball too?”

  I toss my head back and laugh. “You’re delightful, sweetheart. Have dinner with me.”

  Her smile disappears. “Um … no, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look, I’m sure I seem like low hanging fruit on the set, but I’ve been around guys like you my entire life and honestly, I need more than a pretty face. Besides, it’s not going to hurt you to put in the effort to charm someone else.”

  I shake my head in confusion. “Low hanging fruit? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means any guy who is as good looking as you can get laid any time he wants. Even in Hollywood. Still, I get it. You look around the set, try to find a woman who will take the least amount of work. The woman who’s a little frumpy, more than a little chubby and will probably just be grateful for the attention. But sorry, I will not be that woman.”

  She’s got it all wrong. Everything she just said is wrong. I grin at her.

  “I’m beginning to think that you might be slow-witted, as they say,” she hisses.

  “A little closer, Andrew,” Luca barks.

  And a little closer is all I need to completely close the distance between our mouths. I can’t help myself. I’ve got to taste for myself and see if all those snarky words make for a tart kiss. I should have known better. She tastes like cinnamon and cloves and Christmas morning.

  Her fingernails—blunt though they are—dig into my hips as she tightens her hold on me. She kisses me back, her tongue sweeping into my mouth in a bold, take-charge kind of way.

  She makes a whimpering noise in her throat.

  Laughter sounds from behind us. Fucking Luca and the camera guys. It definitely breaks the spell though because the next thing I know, I’ve got a knee to my groin and two palms pushing against my chest.

  I fall to the set floor with a ‘oof.’

  “Jackass,” she mutters, then she storms off.

  Luca meanders over, still chuckling. “You probably want to ice your balls.” His laughter increases.

  “It’s not that funny. I’ll just go see the medic,” I say, wincing in pain.

  Luca howls with laughter. He tosses his thumb over his shoulder. “Maxine IS the medic.”

  Fuck my life.

  chapter three

  Maxine

  Today really can’t get any worse.

  I mean I suppose I could be forced to sell a kidney in order to pay the rent on my shoebox they call an apartment. Or groceries. I’m already living off of tuna fish and egg salad because my ass can’t deal with ramen. Too many carbs.

  Isn’t that what got us into this mess to begin with?

  No, no it’s not. My plus size ass is just fine.

  It’s my selfish, judgmental grandfather, who is the problem. The size of my hips, ass or anything else shouldn’t matter to anyone, especially not a relative.

  Your body is damn near perfect.

  Andrew’s words, complete with that slow Texas drawl of his, replay in my mind as they’ve done for the last week and a half since we first met. Those words and that goddamn kiss.

  I’ve done my level best to avoid him at work, which for the most part has been simple since our paths don’t regularly cross. But I catch glimpses of him. It’s impossible not to. Unfortunately, I seem to have a beacon for his unruly mop of dark blond hair and his tall, muscular frame.

 

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