The Billionaire’s Second Chance Christmas (Christmas with the Denton Billionaires Book 3)

  Christmas with the Denton Billionaires

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Fiancée

  The Billionaire’s Sudden Christmas Baby

  The Billionaire’s Second Chance Christmas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, DECEMBER 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Leslie North is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Cover Art by Mayhem Cover creations.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Billionaire celebrity chef Christopher Denton is back in his hometown, hoping to win a local baking contest and gain some much-needed publicity before launching his new show. The only possible glitch in the plan is knowing Mara Lancaster, the girl who broke his heart back in high school, is his competition. Though his pulse is racing in that old familiar way, he plays it cool, not wanting Mara to know how much seeing her has affected him. Maybe if he acts like he doesn’t care, his traitorous heart will listen. But as the competition heats up, so do his thoughts about her. Mara’s even more gorgeous now and he’s finding it difficult to keep his eyes—and his hands—off her.

  Mara has to win the Christmas gingerbread house competition. This isn’t a game to her: it’s her entire future, because she needs the prize money to start her own bakery. Nothing will get in the way of that dream. Certainly not an egotistical, bad boy billionaire chef, even if he makes her blood sizzle and her mind turn to cookie batter—just like he did when they were teenagers. She can’t deny their attraction, though, and the more time they spend together, the more Mara sees the boy she loved before accidentally breaking his heart. And she likes what she sees. Chris is kind and really a bit of a softy, despite his hard exterior.

  But just when Mara thinks things between her and Chris might end sweetly, her ex shows up on the scene and leaves Mara wondering if it will all crumble—just like a gingerbread house…

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  End of The Billionaire’s Second Chance Christmas

  Thank You!

  About Leslie

  Also by Leslie

  1

  Flashes popped and burst as Chris Denton’s limo slowed to a stop in front of the Glenford Community Center. The press was here, because they were always here. Not at this exact place, per se, but wherever Chris was.

  As a celebrity chef, it was hard to sneeze these days without the press catching wind.

  And honestly? On days like today, he didn’t mind it one bit. His smile grew wider the closer the photographers swarmed.

  Eat it up, guys. Your hometown hero is back.

  Once the limo stopped, he pushed the door open and stepped into the fray. This was his hometown, the small city of Glenford, New York. Although he’d grown up here, it was no longer home—that title was reserved for New York City. But still, he knew this place like the back of his hand.

  Even though reporters and photographers hadn’t clambered over each other to snap his picture like they did now.

  “Chris! Chris!” Shouts pierced the air, and the bodyguard hired by the network carved a path for him through the people. “How are you feeling about the competition? Are you worried that your show’s ratings might fall if you don’t win?”

  He just smiled tightly as the questions rained around him. Not winning wasn’t an option, hometown niceties be damned. The Glenford annual gingerbread baking competition was locally famous, but this year, it would become internationally famous. All because of Chris.

  Which meant the pressure was on.

  “Chris!” A familiar voice broke through the din as he strode through the double doors of the community center. The late November air was crisp and cold, but inside the heat made him eager to shrug off his expensive overcoat. In New York, he fit in with all the other rich celebrities. But here, back in his hometown? He already stood out like a sore thumb.

  Chris’s assistant, Damon, wove toward him through the crowd. The only familiar face from New York City that he’d be seeing over the next few weeks of filming this competition reality show.

  “There you are. We need to get you into the staging area. Everyone’s ready to get this show on the road.”

  Damon led him through the humming front hallway and toward the auditorium where the meet-and-greet would happen in advance of filming. Tucked into the back of the center was a multipurpose room where they’d be doing the bulk of the filming. Chris kept himself alert and smiling as he followed Damon into the auditorium. Who knew who he might see here, who he might need to be “on” for?

  There was one person he already knew he’d be running into, and his entire body prickled with anticipation over it. Coming home to Glenford was one thing. But coming back here to face off against his first love—and first heartbreak—Mara Lancaster? It added an annoying dimension to the next few weeks of his life.

  But it wasn’t like he could say no to this opportunity. The network wanted him to blow the competition out of the water as part of their efforts to expand his demographic and take his success to new levels. And Chris wanted to please the network, come Hell or high water, because he had plans of his own for his career, and they involved the network saying yes to whatever he came up with.

  People filled the first couple rows of seats, and Chris hadn’t taken three steps before he saw her.

  Mara lingered near the stage, leaning against the small stair railing as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Back in the day, he used to joke and called her Ginger Sinner—a nod to her fair complexion and strawberry blonde tresses and her total disregard for any propriety when it came to making out behind the bleachers during football games.

  But now? She was pure Ginger Stunner. Taller, somehow, and more elegant, as though the ten years since high school graduation had only served to refine her into a sharper, more breathtaking version of herself. Chris gritted his teeth as Damon led him closer to her.

  Why did she have to be the one to win the Glenford baking contest? He’d asked himself this question a thousand times. The television network t
hought that the premise was infallible—hijack the local annual baking contest for Glenford residents so that they could find the best of the best to square off against Chris. It had the right amount of small-town charm, boosted by the Christmas spirit and everyone’s favorite vice these days—baking shows. It was a homerun, and they hadn’t even started filming.

  But Chris would have paid money for the other contestant to be literally anyone other than Mara. The past was past, but he suspected that being around her again was going to be something of a challenge.

  Mara straightened as he approached, her mossy green eyes whipping his way. Electricity shivered through him, and he could feel the frown settling onto his face.

  Even though the past was way past, part of him still hadn’t forgotten how she’d broken his heart senior year. And sure, they were damn near thirty years old now, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t racing just from the sight of her.

  All those unspoken words and unresolved sentiments from eons ago were suddenly busting down the door, begging for their chance in the limelight.

  Chris realized he’d been staring at her, while she stared right back. Her gaze was a tractor beam he was hesitant to rip himself out of, but dammit, he needed to focus. Damon gestured toward an open seat in the front row, and Chris made a big display of taking off his coat and folding it over the back of the auditorium seat. Anything to kill time and not focus on Mara.

  “Let’s get started, everyone.” The director of the show called the event to order and began his introductory spiel. Chris was aware of Mara slinking toward a different seat further down his row, but he forced himself not to watch her walk away. Every inch of him was curious if she still smelled perpetually of strawberry lip gloss. Surely, at almost thirty, she didn’t hold the same habits as her eighteen-year-old self.

  Or did she?

  Chris’s nostrils flared as he shoved the thought from his mind.

  “And that brings us to our competitors! Mara Lancaster, local baker extraordinaire!” Polite applause filled the auditorium as the director introduced her. Chris made a point not to clap, or even look at her.

  But when the attention turned his way and the director began the introduction about his famous show, Chris Cooks, and all the recent accolades and touring and the third cookbook he was set to release, it was hard not to glance at her.

  To see if she gave a damn. If she was impressed. If she even remembered who he was.

  Mara’s moss green gaze sizzled on him, and for a moment, Chris forgot where he was. What he was doing. What this was all about.

  He swallowed a knot in his throat, jerking his gaze off her once the applause around him died down.

  This baking competition was a piece of cake—literally.

  The real challenge was going to be having Mara within arm’s reach again, twenty-four seven, for the next couple of weeks.

  A challenge he wasn’t sure he’d be able to overcome.

  2

  Mara kept clenching her fists.

  Every few minutes she’d look down and find herself doing it again. She’d relax and take a deep breath and force her jaw to loosen slightly.

  But dammit, it was pointless. With Chris Denton in her presence, it was nearly impossible to do anything other than watch him.

  “I really think we’re going to have an amazing competition,” Chris was saying, standing at the front of the auditorium as if they were all here for him. He’d launched into some version of an Oscar acceptance speech, despite nobody asking him to. He’d been talking for a full minute and didn’t show any signs of slowing.

  She was stuck somewhere between lost puppy and resentful bulldog. More bulldog than puppy, if she was being honest. Chris Denton was a certifiable celebrity asshole. He strutted instead of walked; he sneered instead of smiled.

  But despite all that, he still was the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on.

  Winning the baking contest in Glenford was the first step in an important line of goals which would lead to her dream of opening her own bakery. And competing against Chris was just the unfortunate consequence of making shit happen for herself.

  She just hadn’t thought he’d be so big-city arrogant so quickly.

  “And hey, whatever happens in the competition,” Chris said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his gleaming, pressed slacks, “I think we can all agree that giving Glenford a little boost, in the economy and in the media, is good for everyone.” His gaze swung toward her but only for a glance. Like a warning slap. “No matter who wins.”

  Applause erupted ferociously, filling the auditorium, even though there couldn’t be more than fifty people there. Which was the perfect example of how everyone felt about Chris. Way too excited about their hometown hero, if they were from Glenford, or way too eager to get near the celebrity, if they were anybody else.

  And here she was—a bulldog scowling at the popular poodle.

  When the director of the competition finally kicked the prima donna out of the spotlight, Mara sighed audibly. Finally. Relief.

  Though for how much longer? This was a gingerbread house competition, sure, which seemed innocuous enough. But it was a reality baking competition, which ensured some amount of drama, manufactured or otherwise. And with Chris strutting around like a New York City cock, she could only imagine the sort of annoying obstacles he’d come up with.

  After introductions were made and everyone was on the same page, the group of camera crew, set hands, and makeup artists started the trek toward the kitchen to begin familiarizing themselves with the set-up. The multipurpose room had been converted into two enormous separate kitchens where each contestant could safely bake, alongside their respective teams of three assistants each.

  Cameras had been outfitted at various points along the ceiling, as well as the standard cameras set up along the front and sides of the set to capture every bit of drama and gingerbread unfolding. The director pointed out their individual stations, and as Mara went over to her spacious, gleaming industrial kitchen space, she couldn’t help but notice that Chris stood directly across from her in his own.

  Watching her with those crystalline blue eyes.

  A shiver coursed through her; she wished it hadn’t. It was impossible to prevent, apparently. Her body had other ideas when it came to Chris, but she could rest assured that it was strictly a physical reaction. It didn’t mean she forgave him, or even liked him.

  Chris had proved ten years ago just how much of an asshole he really was. Sure, she had taken the first step by getting caught kissing another guy at the school dance. But she hadn’t kissed him first—he’d stolen the kiss from her. Chris had just never cared enough to even hear her side.

  Instead, he’d made up his mind and went on a Mara smear campaign. After he’d moved to New York City, he’d fallen off the Glenford radar.

  Until now.

  “Okay! So are we ready to start filming for our great gingerbread competition?” The director’s harsh but jovial voice boomed through the set, and both camera crew and baking participants rumbled their agreement. Mara had been able to select her own assistants, at least, and made sure to pick the best and brightest of the recent grads from the Glenford Culinary School. Chris probably wouldn’t have thought to support his home community like she did. He was just using Glenford, it was painfully obvious. Playing the small-town-hero role to his advantage. In fact, if she’d known that he was going to be the celebrity chef the network had in mind when she’d auditioned for this contest eons ago, she might have thought twice.

  No, scratch that. She would have done it anyway. That’s how badly she wanted to win.

  Mara washed her hands vigorously in the shiny new sink and got to work directing her assistants. Today would be a short filming day, but with how agitated Chris’s mere presence made her, she knew she needed to stay more focused than ever.

  “Mara.”

  A deep bass jolted her from her thoughts, and when she looked up, Chris stood right in front of he
r. He wore an intolerable smirk, one that screamed I’m the top dog here.

  “Yes. That’s me.” She cleared her throat and reached for a paper towel. Chris held out his hand…for a handshake. She blinked, staring at him as she dried her hands. “Or don’t you remember me?”

  Chris narrowed his eyes, lowering his hand. “Vaguely, yes.”

  “Right.” She tossed the paper towel, hackles raised. All it took was one word to her face to make her realize just how away he’d gone from that young man she’d fallen in love with ten years ago. “Thought you might have remembered just how well we used to know each other. But I can’t expect you to keep so many names and faces straight now that you’re a celebrity chef. I mean, hell, you all but forgot about Glenford. I’m shocked you even came back for this.”

  Chris’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she could tell that he’d abandoned whatever game plan he’d shown up with. “And why wouldn’t I come back for something like this? One of the pinnacles of my career? Please.”

  She shrugged, using a nearby rag to wipe the countertop. Even though it was far from dirty. “Thought Glenford was beneath you, you know? I mean, you don’t even come back to visit your own parents.”

  He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Trust me. I see my parents. You don’t have to concern yourself about my family.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t.”