Texas Christmas by RJ Scott
*Written Excerpt*
Chapter 4
As soon as Marcus was out of sight of Jack and Riley, he stopped and smacked a hand to his forehead. What the hell did he just say? That he was in the area? They could probably see right through him. What must they think of him and his stupid teenage crush he had going on. He couldn’t help it, he was a man addicted to Liam’s smiles. Something about the young guy set off a million warning bells inside Marcus’s head. Too young, eight years younger than him, too emotional, too scared. Yet, when it came down to it, Marcus wanted to get to know Liam in ways not altogether innocent.
He found Robbie first, who, with his back to Marcus, was fiddling with a tap in the wall to the horse barn.
“Hi,” Marcus said and smiled back at Robbie when he grinned up at him.
“In the barn,” Robbie said by way of explanation. Marcus dipped his head in acknowledgment of the suggestion and the element of teasing.
He walked into the cool of the barn and the scents of horses assailed him. He inhaled—his rationale for getting a lung full of the smell would be that he wouldn’t then spend the next hour gagging whenever he caught a whiff of horse shit and hay. He waited until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, then casually walked past each stall until finally he found Liam shoveling in one of the last stalls. For a second he stood and watched.
Liam was taller than his own five eight, but then most men were, he was used to that. He was probably just short of six foot but skinny with it. In the weeks since he’d first seen Liam, Marcus had noticed that Liam had filled out a little, but the man still needed to pull his belt tight to keep his pants in place on narrow hips. His back was kinda broad and the muscles in his arms bunched and released as he shoveled and dumped, then shoveled and dumped again. His dark hair was ruthlessly short, and sweat made his skin glisten even in this softly lit space.
Marcus hooked one foot on the lower rung of the stall gate and leaned over it. “Hey, cowboy.”
Liam yelped and turned so suddenly that shit flew off his shovel and missed Marcus by inches.
“Shit!” Liam exclaimed. He pressed a hand to his chest. “What the fuck?” he cursed. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Marcus said nothing, simply waited until the initial shock died down. There had been real fear in Liam’s expression, and he wanted to let Liam deal with that before they moved on to the general talking part of this meeting.
“What do you want?” Liam finally asked. His tone was quick and impatient. “I’m busy.”
“I was just driving by,” Marcus begun.
“The hell you were,” Liam snapped. “You live hell knows how far that way.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the city and beyond where Marcus lived. He turned back to the pile of shit and hay and who knew what else. All of it needed moving to the barrow next to him that was nearly half full.
“You can keep working,” Marcus said. He was trying to be helpful but knew he’d failed in that when Liam frowned at him.
“And you’re gonna do what? Stand there and stare at me?”
“Can I help it if I like what I see?”
Liam very deliberately hooked a pile of mess onto his shovel and hefted it into the waiting barrow. Marcus grinned at the combined sensations of sight of the muscles and the fact that Liam thought turning his back was going to work. They stood this way for a good ten minutes, and Marcus watched every move until finally he couldn’t really justify standing and staring any more.
“Dinner?” he asked.
Liam didn’t hesitate with his answer. “No.”
“One day you’ll say yes.”
Liam muttered a reply. “When hell freezes over.”
“See you soon,” Marcus added cheerily.
“Not if I see you first,” Liam snapped. He stood up and suddenly Marcus was near enough to kiss Liam. They stood so close that it would only take one movement from either of them and they would be kissing the hell out of each other. Marcus wasn’t sure who moved first but assumed they both leaned in. No hands but lips crashed and tongues tasted. There was nothing soft about the kiss, and it ended as soon as it began.
Liam stepped back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What the fuck.”
Guilt consumed Marcus. He’d just gone into Liam’s personal space and near forced a kiss on the guy. No wonder Liam looked so shell-shocked.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted… Will you come to dinner… I want to talk…”
“No.”
Seemed like that was Liam’s last word, and Marcus left the barn. When he was out of sight he stopped for a moment and lifted his face to the fall sun. He shouldn’t be riding Liam so hard, but there was something there, an indefinable attraction that flooded him whenever he saw Liam. Attraction definitely, lust, a little smatter of affection. There was pain in Liam’s expression and the heat of anger in his beautiful gray eyes, and Marcus wanted to know more.
“You okay?”
Marcus focused on the voice, then looked up at Robbie astride a big brown horse. Way up.
“Just talking,” Marcus explained.
“You harassing my staff?” Robbie asked quietly.
“Asking him out for dinner.”
“How many times is that?”
“I lost count at five.”
“Seems to me you’re likely moving into being a nuisance,” Robbie said without heat. He slid down from the back of the horse in a smooth movement. Marcus appreciated that he didn’t have to tilt his head back to actually see Robbie’s expression. Robbie wasn’t holding back even if he worked here and Marcus was Jack and Riley’s friend. A large part of him, the part that both lusted after Liam and cared for the young man, liked that Robbie had his eye on Liam.
Marcus shrugged. “He hasn’t punched me yet.”
“If he does it will be your own fault.”
“Duly noted.”
Robbie stood silently for a moment. “You remind me of Eli,” he said finally. Then he moved away and Marcus was left wondering what that meant. He liked Eli, although they hadn’t really sat and talked. Eli came from old money like Marcus, but that is where the similarity ended. Maybe Robbie meant the persistence thing. After climbing back into his car, he left the D and was back in the city before he realized it. Marcie met him at the door with a wide grin on her face.
“The McDonalds are pregnant,” she exclaimed.
His sister was as involved in the surrogates and the intended parents as much as he was, and he returned her grin before grabbing her and hugging her close. The McDonalds had been trying with their surrogate for over a year, and to finally hear a success was at hand was the best news of the day.
He followed Marcie up the stairs to their private apartments and listened as she chatted on about HCG levels and expectant dates. He wasn’t entirely focused on his sister when his brain was still using so much processing power on considering how to get Liam to go to dinner with him.
“Earth to Marcus.”
Marcus blinked as something passed in front of his face, and he realized it was Marcie waving a hand to snap him out of his thoughts.
“Sorry.”
“Thinking about Liam again?” she asked with a smirk.
Marcus groaned. God help brothers who had sisters as uncannily observant as he did. Two bottles of red and he’d spilled the whole sorry mess to Marcie a few weeks back. He couldn’t recall exactly what he had said to her but seemed it was enough for her to have teasing material to work with on a daily basis.
“Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh. “I was out at the D.”
“You have it so bad,” Marcie commented. She pulled out a tray of lasagna from the fridge sniffed it and grimaced. “We’re eating out. Then you can tell me all about Liam and his hair and his eyes and his body and the fact that all you want is to love him and feed him and call him squishy.”
“I hate you,” Marcus said dryly.
Marcie blew him a kiss. “No you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Not even for a second,” she laughed. “I’ll get my jacket and we’ll go for Italian.”
Marcus waited by the door and pulled out his cell. He had Liam’s number only because Liam had finally given in and let him have it.
Dinner? he texted.
The answer was immediate. No.
Marcus smiled at the answer. One day Liam would give in and type yes.
The Last Gift by Chrissy Munder
NICK REED’S first week on the new shift couldn’t be called bad. Different? Sure. He’d go there. An entire collection of tiny differences that when totaled? They made for a huge, uncomfortable change. A sure sign he’d fallen into a mind-numbing rut.
Which wasn’t hard to do when Nick’s life consisted of nothing but his shifts here at the convenience store, a max load of classes, his on-campus job at the computer lab, and—surprise—more studying because he also took classes online to make sure he graduated and was employed in a life-sustaining field before his brother finished high school. Money was tight, and even with Nick’s outrageous amount of student loan debt, his parents couldn’t afford two kids in college. Three, if you counted his little sister in the pipeline.
The most irritating difference on this particular morning? Why the store never seemed to get warm on this shift. A cold Nick was a grumpy Nick. He’d added another layer under his long-sleeved work polo, and he still felt the late November chill. Nick blamed the increase in customers letting in the elements. Not to mention the slush tracked in from the post-Thanksgiving snowstorm. Floor mats, people. Use them.
He mopped floors more in the hours between 4:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. than his entire previous shift. Add in the staggering amount of coffee he needed to keep brewed, and the time spent refilling the fresh baked donut and bagel displays, and the downtime Nick usually used to catch up on his homework vanished.
Turned out being near the freeway on and off ramps took on a whole new meaning during peak hours. No wonder Blaine had swapped with such enthusiasm. This shift sucked.
He shouldn’t complain. Finding out his Bio instructor had gone out on maternity leave a month early and her replacement had changed the open lab hours had not only sent Nick into a panic, but threatened to derail his graduation plans. So much for the hours he and his father had spent arranging his academic schedule and getting special permission to take most of his advanced, only offered once a year courses in his first couple of years, and the more accessible, intro courses here at the end.
“Change is hard,” Blaine mocked when he clocked out at 4:00 a.m. Friday morning, no doubt heading to Amanda’s, his on-again, off-again girlfriend and their store manager.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nick muttered. He opened his battered laptop, refusing to acknowledge the twinge in his chest as anything other than heartburn from the greasy burger he had for dinner. He didn’t have a clue how the complicated mess of Blaine and Amanda’s relationship worked, but at least they had each other. “Hey, be sure to tell Amanda thanks for letting us swap shifts again.”
The laptop screen flickered as the unit crawled back to life. Nick crossed his fingers it would finish booting. Poor baby only had to last through another term before retiring to some electronics graveyard.
Unexpected Christmas by Nell Iris
A few minutes later, a vehicle approached from behind. Reacting instinctively, I turned around and waved my arms, hoping the big truck would stop and have mercy on my freezing ass.
I let out a giddy yelp as it slowed down, but it got stuck in my throat when the driver rolled down the window.
He was huge and couldn't hold his head upright without banging it on the ceiling. Big steel gauges adorned both his ears -- at least an inch and a half wide -- and his hair was black and so closely cropped it resembled a five o'clock shadow more than an actual haircut.
"You need a ride?" he asked and his voice was deeper than the Mariana Trench, perfectly matching his frightening appearance. Black tattoos crept up his neck and snaked down his hands below his sleeves. His shoulders were wide, his muscles strained the sleeves of his thick black jacket, and his cheeks were hollow. I was one second from shitting myself.
"I'm not riding with a serial killer!" The words slipped out of my mouth and I groaned. I couldn't have kept my mouth shut for five fucking seconds to avoid being chopped up and thrown to the wolves?
He threw his head back and let out a thunderous laugh.
"What's so goddamned funny?" I glared at him, but he didn't seem to care.
"I'm no serial killer."
"And I'm just supposed to take your fucking word for it?" I raised an eyebrow. I knew I was being combative and taking out my frustration on this stranger, but I couldn't stop myself.
"You could call my ma for references."
"Ha ha. Very funny." With a deep sigh, I resigned to my fate and started walking again. No way was I getting into a car with that mammoth of a man.
"Where you goin'?" he called after me. When I didn't bother to answer, he eased off the break and let his truck crawl after me.
I swirled around. "Stop following me, you creep," I hissed.
He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and held it up as if he surrendered. "Look, man. It's freezin'. You're wet and miserable. Get in the truck and lemme take you wherever you're goin'." His deep voice was surprisingly gentle. Non-threatening, as if he'd come to expect reactions like mine.
"I'm really not a bad guy." He stuck out his lower lip in a pout that would have made a five-year-old girl green with envy and I had to bite my lip to stop a smile from erupting.
"Really?" I tried to hang on to my mistrust, but he made it hard. His appearance screamed RUN AND HIDE, but there was something soft in his eyes that told a different story.
He shot me a crooked smile. "It was worth a try. It works on my niece every time."
The fucker knew all the right words to say to disarm me. "And how old is she?"
"Four."
I huffed out a reluctant chuckle. "Well, you know how it is. Everyone always says how they couldn't believe their neighbor was a serial killer because he seemed like such a nice guy."
His eyes grew big and round. "You're sayin' you don't trust my niece as a character witness?" He sounded as I'd just delivered the biggest insult of his life, but the amused glint in his eyes told me it was all for show.
"Can you blame me?"
"I guess not." He sighed and grew serious. "Please. I couldn't live with myself if I left you here to freeze to death."
My body screamed at me to take him up on his offer. The ice pellets were relentless and I was soaked and gloomy and was starting to feel like maybe being ax murdered wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to me right now.
The openness in his posture and honesty in his eyes had me on the verge of caving. "You promise you won't kill me?" I sounded like a scared little kid even to my own ears.
Ever-Greene: A Souls Christmas by Annabella Michaels
Gio stuck out his bottom lip in an adorable pout and I couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss it. He kissed me back then gave Sarah a kiss on the cheek before blowing into her neck and making her squeal in delight as it tickled her. My phone rang as he began to tickle her ribs and I dug it out of my back pocket to answer it.
“Hello?” I answered with a laugh.
“What in the world is going on there?” Michelle asked, obviously hearing the loud noises through the phone.
“Tickle war,” I told her.
“Oh, sounds like fun! Tell my niece to fight dirty,” she said with a laugh.
“I’ll come to her defense if I need to,” I assured her with a chuckle.
“Good. Now, I’m calling for a reason. We need you guys to get over to Mom and Dad’s place as soon as possible,” she informed me.
“Why? What’s up?” I asked.
“It’s competition time,” she said deviously.
“Ugh! Seriously? My legs are still sore from climbing that hill over and over in the sled-riding competition and I’m just starting to feel my feet after being outside for four hours yesterday for the snowman-building competition,” I teasingly complained. The truth was, Gio and I had both had a blast, even if we’d lost both challenges.
“Oh, quit your whining. You and Carter are younger than me and I’m not complaining,” Michelle pointed out.
“Are you even going to tell me what the competition is?” I asked.
“Nope. You’ll find out along with everyone else when they get here,” she teased.
“Fine, we’ll be there soon,” I said.
“Another competition?” Gio asked as I hung up.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I can call her back if you’d rather just stay in tonight,” I offered.
“No way! We took it easy on them the last couple of times. It’s time we kick some Greene as…” I cut him off with a loud cough and nodded my head at our daughter who was still on his lap, watching the TV. “Bootay,” Gio finished with a smile. I laughed and grabbed him by the back of the neck, so I could pull him forward for a kiss.
A Special Christmas by JP Bowie
“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling too. Come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh-ride together with you…”
As he slowed his BMW almost to a halt on the crowded freeway, Brett Masters groaned and snapped off his car radio. No way was he going to start being bombarded with Christmas songs this early in the year! Especially in his present frame of mind. Grudgingly, he had to admit it wasn’t all that early. He’d actually been preparing for this particular Christmas for some time, ever since he’d got Jamie to agree on a Christmas Eve and Christmas Day for just the two of them—alone in a log cabin hideaway up in Big Bear Mountain…
It had taken a long time, and all of Brett’s considerable salesman technique, together with lots of kisses and caresses to convince Jamie that it would be fabulous, and that their respective parents wouldn’t mind if they showed up the day after Christmas to join in the family celebrations.
That last part had been the most difficult to navigate, and Brett had spent a lot of time on the phone with his mom then Jamie’s mom, explaining that as it was his and Jamie’s fifth Christmas together and he wanted to make it a really special one. His mother had positively whined at the prospect of a Brett-less Christmas, but he’d remained adamant. After all, for the past five years he and Jamie had accommodated their families by celebrating their Christmas together early then flying off Christmas Eve—Brett to Kansas City, Jamie to Jacksonville, Florida—to pass the next three days surrounded by their many siblings and their siblings many, many kids.
“Imagine what it’ll be like, Jamie,” he’d whispered in his lover’s ear after what he remembered now as an extremely hot bout of sex. “Just the two of us waking up on Christmas morning together—no kids jumping up and down on the bed, demanding that you get up right now and help them open those scads of gifts they get every year.”
They had compared notes after every Christmas and had laughed repeatedly at how similar their Christmas mornings were, all those miles apart.
