Summary:
Once upon a time, a hockey player and a baseball player walked into a bar...
It wasn’t coincidence that brought Red to New York. It wasn’t coincidence that got him stuck there overnight either.
After taking a unscheduled detour on the way to his grandmother’s house, hockey player Red O'Reilly finds himself snowed in at the airport. What could have been a bleak Christmas Eve indeed suddenly turns magical when Owen “the Wolf” Lindsay, a wicked pitcher with an irresistible charm who Red's been crushing on for years sits down next to him in the last open seat in the bar.
If Owen had left New York when he was supposed to, he wouldn't be trapped in the worst airport in the world. He also wouldn't have met the sexy, irrepressible young Red and that would have been a tragedy. Could it just be coincidence that they are both in the same place at the same time?
No, this has to be something much stronger than coincidence; they just might have a bonafide Christmas miracle on their hands.
Mistletoe Omega by SC Wynne
Summary:
Sam Styles is having a horrible holiday season. He’s just found out he’s pregnant, and his alpha has bolted, leaving him stranded. Sam hides his pregnancy because a pregnant omega without an alpha isn’t popular in his omega/alpha society.
Graham Peters is an alpha who is fifteen years older than Sam. While Graham doesn’t realize Sam is pregnant, something about the younger omega tugs at his heart. He wants to help the down on his luck omega.
The two men grow close when Graham opens his home to Sam. But Sam is guarded and afraid of what might happen if Graham discovers he’s is pregnant with another alpha’s baby.
This is a 28,000 word Christmas Mpreg story with a guaranteed HEA.
Lucky Dip by Clare London
Summary:
Andy Jackson always knew that class 2C’s help in preparing for the annual Christmas Fair would be a mixed blessing. Then he’s paired up on the Lucky Dip with Greg, the man who dumped him but now can’t keep away, the pupils are either lecturing him on his lovelife or losing bladder control, and no one’s fixed the broken handle on the storage room. It may all be one whoopee cushion too far for him!
Clare London's Lucky Dip is a lovely fun holiday rom-com that will make you smile. It may seem cliche but sometimes happiness is all about timing and second chances can be hard to give so will Andy give Greg another chance? You'll have to read this little gem for yourself to find out but you won't be sorry. Lucky Dip might be short on quantity but it more than makes up for it in quality. I loaded this one up on my kindle last Christmas but unfortunately it got buried under all the other holiday tales I added, I'm glad I found it this year because it is a win-win from beginning to end.
RATING: 
Out for the Holidays by Cara Dee
Summary:
Out #2
I’m not saying Henry jinxed us when he chose to send out two hundred holiday cards stating we were going to have a blissful Christmas at home…
Before we knew it, our peace and quiet went out the window, and we were headed to Mexico for a photo shoot my agent had neglected to tell me about. Of course, we had to deal with the man who didn’t want us to be together, and then we ended up back in LA, and we had to figure out what was going on with my brother, and, and… Okay, deep breaths. FYI, Philadelphia is nowhere near our home in northern Washington. Additionally, I wonder how Viagra really works, and what’s it gonna take to get a proposal around here?
Honestly. I’m not saying Henry jinxed us, but I’m writing the damn card next year.
Warning: This story contains more sugar than the cookies you leave for Santa, and it's chock-full of greetings and updates from other characters written by Cara, titles including Noah, Home, Path of Destruction, Uncomplicated Choices, and more.
(A 40k words long Christmas-themed sequel to Out. Not a standalone.)
Yours for the Holiday by DJ Jamison
Summary:
Fresh off a break-up, Remy is in no mood to share a room with his brother's best friend during a holiday stay at home. Jason Hendricks has always treated him like a little brother to tease and taunt, all the more embarrassing because Remy has secretly crushed on the jerk since puberty. But when Jason confides he's bisexual, Remy realizes the crush he loves to hate could be the perfect rebound.
Jason has always found Remy appealing. He didn't handle his attraction well when he was younger, but now Remy's a grown man and Jason's no longer afraid of his feelings. Some playful flirtation sounds like a great way to spend Thanksgiving break, but he's not prepared for Remy's newfound sex appeal or his decision to make Jason his rebound fling. Jason doesn't want to risk fallout with a family that's always been there for him, but he's not sure he can resist.
When the two part ways, they don't plan to stay in touch, but soon they're texting, trading sexy pictures and helping each other cope with family drama. Remy agrees to be his for the holiday, continuing their secret fling over Christmas, but Jason knows that won't be enough. He'll have to find the courage to be open and honest with his best friend -- and the whole Wells family -- if he wants a chance at love in the new year.
This approximately 50,000 word novel is a brother’s best friend, enemies to lovers romance that comes with a satisfying HEA!
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Random Tales of Christmas 2018
Lucky Dip by Clare London
“We’re not moving.”
I didn’t mean it to sound so aggressive. Really, I didn’t. Poppy and Benedict from 2C, plus Poppy’s little brother Tommy were working on the school hall floor at my feet, sitting cross-legged in a tangle of white crepe paper that was meant to be the basis of a snowy, Pyrenean mountain range but, at the moment, looked more like bandage supplies at the battle of the Somme. The rest of my team were working on the other side of our display table, bickering or giggling in turns. I’d only been allocated half a dozen of the younger pupils to help me out: the challenge had been in keeping them gainfully employed in creating separate scenes for Foods of the World.
Mrs Warren cleared her throat. “Mr Jackson, I welcome the full participation of all teachers, especially the newer members of staff, but as Head, I’m in charge of the Christmas Fair. It’s our major fundraiser every year, and as such, it’s important that tomorrow runs smoothly.”
“Of course it is.” I wished I didn’t blush every time she peered at me like that, like I was still one of her pupils.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tommy’s big, round blue eyes flickering between us. I knew how it must look: two teachers, face to face over the top of his head. Our voices were raised and one of my fists had clenched with the tension. And Tommy hadn’t even started school yet.
“Mr Jackson, we need this area for the Lucky Dip barrel.”
“I’ve been setting up the display here all morning,” I said. “With 2C’s help. It’s their turn to be on duty for this display. They told me it’s always in this corner of the hall. Every year.”
Out of the corner of the other eye, I saw Amy nod her head quite firmly, as if she were part of the adults’ discussion. Poppy frowned, and the Sophies A and W both sniggered nervously. I suppose my tone may have sounded a little hysterical. It had been a very long Friday and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. Tommy stared at the girls around him, but then turned swiftly back to his task of peeling his fingers off the safety scissors. It looked like they’d been dipped in the pot of glue. I had no idea if that had been an accident or otherwise. I didn’t even remember agreeing to babysit Tommy for Poppy’s mother while she worked on Arts and Crafts, though between her and the Head, it seemed to be a done deal.
Elvira Warren’s gaze drifted to the crown of my head. She reached up and took a long strip of shredded paper out of my hair.
“Weeping willow, Chinese culture. Recreation of,” I said. I wasn’t making much sense, but 2C and I had been working on the papier-mâché backdrop of the world in miniature since early morning.
“They eat chicken’s feet in China, you know.” Amy brandished a garishly-pink plastic chicken and groped for the scissors. In the confusion of transferring them from Tommy’s sticky hands to Amy’s, Sophie A somehow stabbed her thumb and started up a wail.
Mrs Warren glanced down and grimaced. “I think the children need direction.”
“I think,” I said, not thinking first, “they need reassurance.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your input, Andy. I’m not sure you should always take what 2C says as entirely accurate.”
“But sometimes, I should.” I winced. God. How to impress the boss in two clumsy lessons. “Sorry. I mean, if I sounded…”
But Mrs Warren smiled. “It’s all right, I take your point. 2C may keep this corner for the Fair. But you’ll have to share it with the Lucky Dip.”
I was sure I heard a whispered “yay” from Tommy, though hard to say over the level of background noise in the school hall. “I’m sure we can manage it as well…”
“Which will be run by Mr Canbury, like last year.”
I swallowed hard. “He’s not exactly a parent.”
“He’s in loco parentis, Mr Jackson. An uncle, and a volunteer. And we’re very grateful for them, aren’t we?”
“Of course. But I’d rather not…” I took an awkward step backwards, knocking against the box of plastic fruit and vegetables on our display table. Helplessly, I watched as it toppled off the edge and tipped over on to Poppy’s head. A bunch of neon green grapes landed on her shoulder and a baguette the colour of a pumpkin thumped into her lap. She and Sophie W, inseparable at the best of times, started up a joint wail this time, hopefully more from shock than injury. Tommy started giggling.
By the time I’d scooped up the box, Mrs Warren was on her way across the hall to the Fancy Dress stall. She called back over her shoulder. “You and Mr Canbury have worked events together many times, haven’t you? I remember last summer’s Jamboree, then Firework Night, although you unfortunately had to leave early when you singed your hair. And that Quiz Night when you…” She paused.
I groaned inwardly. “I just gave the tea urn a little knock. The tap seemed to be stuck. And no one was burned that badly.”
Mrs Warren was distracted by another member of staff, beckoning her over. “You and Greg Canbury work well together. You make a good couple. I’m sure I can leave it all in your capable hands.” She paused again and glanced back at me. A small frown line appeared between her brows. “Well, Mr Canbury will be over soon, I hope.”
“Mr Jackson?” Amy tugged at my jacket. “Benedict’s got his finger stuck in one of the onions. Are you in trouble with Mrs Warren?”
“No, Amy, there’s no trouble.”
Her little nose wrinkled. She looked older than her almost-seven years and decidedly unconvinced. “Tommy says he has to pee.”
“That’s fine, Poppy can take him –”
“Now,” she interrupted. “He says he has to pee now. He’s going to do it in the top of your model of the Eyefully Tower.”
“What? Tell him to stop that right n–”
“Too late,” said a low, male, and very adult voice at my ear, a flicker of amusement in its tone. “But I’m on my way to save France’s national treasure.”
I turned my head to see Greg Canbury smiling at me, his expensive designer, I’m-a-city-trader shirt tight across his chest, his skin smelling faintly of expensive aftershave, and – rather incongruously – a large dishcloth and bucket in his left hand. He stuck the right hand out in front of me, demanding I shake it.
“Good to see you again, Andy.” He gripped my palm and leaned in closer. “And sharing such close quarters.”
God knows why it made me shiver: the hall was far from cold. “Look, Greg…”
“On our Christmas stalls, I meant.” His laugh sounded nervous. He didn’t let go of my hand.
“Sir,” Amy cried in the background. “Tommy says he’ll do the Targy Marl next.”
Greg looked puzzled.
“The Taj Mahal,” I explained. “Took me three evenings’ work and a month’s worth of empty cereal boxes to create.”
“Sir, Mr Jackson, sir!” Amy shrieked.
Both Greg and I leapt into action, me grabbing Tommy who was just pushing down his school shorts, and Greg waving the cloth, ready to clean up any spillages. For the next few minutes we were kept busy either scolding or scouring, no time for any other conversation. After all, my only concern was in guaranteeing tomorrow’s smooth-running school event, wasn’t it?
I sneaked more than a few sideways looks at Greg Canbury as we brought things back under control. Trouble was, I suspected if I had to share a stall with him, even for a couple of hours, this corner of the hall would need more than crepe paper bandages to deal with the wounded.
Yours for the Holiday by DJ Jamison
Jason Hendricks threw his duffel bag on the neatly made bed and looked around the small bedroom that would be home over his Thanksgiving break. He’d joined the Wells family at their cabin — a structure so quaint it could be an advertisement for Lincoln Logs with its thick timber beams and huge stone fireplace.
Jason wasn’t in a guest room, but the small space that had long ago been designated for Remy Wells, his best friend’s younger brother. He was kind of like Jason’s little brother too. They’d all grown up together in Chicago, and Jason had spent more time with the Wells than his own family down the block.
Remy must be missing another holiday, or Jason wouldn’t have been given his room. Usually, he crashed with Derek — they’d been best friends since third grade — but Remy’s older brother had brought a girlfriend home for the holidays for the first time.
The room was tidy, with only a dresser and a few tasteful landscapes that Jason assumed were chosen by Remy’s parents years ago. The small patch of floor next to the bed would be Jason’s for the foreseeable future. At least it was covered in a thick, shaggy throw rug that would keep him from freezing too badly.
He examined a framed picture of Remy perched on the dresser. He hadn’t seen the younger Wells brother in three years. Between Jason’s obligations as a firefighter — which often required working shifts on holidays — and drama with his own family, hot mess that they were, he couldn’t make every Wells family function. And he knew Remy didn’t make every holiday either, between road trips with friends and meeting the relatives of boyfriends.
Boyfriends like the blond, shaggy-haired fool in the photograph with Remy. Jason studied Remy’s likeness: dark hair, dark eyes, delicate features set in an elegant face. He was gorgeous, and most likely too good for that schmuck beside him in the picture. Jason would have to ask some questions about this boyfriend. Do his duty as a pseudo big brother.
The door opened, and as if his thoughts had been rendered into life, Remy walked in, rolling a giant suitcase behind him.
“Ugh, can you believe we have to share a room? Crazy that Derek finally got serious about someone. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Jason normally would have chimed in with a joke here, but he was too busy gaping at Remy in stunned amazement. When Marjory Wells told him to take Remy’s room, he’d assumed the younger brother wasn’t coming for Thanksgiving. Now, he was face-to-face with Remy for the first time since the guy was nineteen years old.
Remy had been gorgeous at nineteen too, of course. Jason’s eyes had been drawn to Remy’s face since he hit puberty. But now? He’d matured in the past three years. Remy was still slender, still a good three inches shorter than Jason at five feet ten inches tall. But his shoulders were broader, his biceps defined enough to be visible through his long-sleeved Henley, and he’d finally grown a layer of stubble that was sexy as hell.
Remy flopped onto the bed with a tired groan. He turned his head, eyeing Jason’s duffel next to him. “I hope you don’t think you’re sleeping in my bed.”
Jason’s body flushed with heat at the idea. If only …
“Bad enough I have to share a room with you,” Remy continued. “I’m not sleeping on the floor. That’s all you, JJ. If you don’t like it, you can fight one of the cousins for a couch.”
Jason’s chest warmed to hear his nickname after so many years. When they were kids, Remy had learned Jason’s middle name was Jeremiah — and how much he hated it because it sounded like a “Bible name” — and started calling him JJ as a taunt. No one else took it up; somehow it became Remy’s special name for him, and Jason secretly loved it. He also loved that he ranked above the cousins in the Wells’ family social strata, because in his opinion, rooming with Remy was worlds above sleeping on a sofa in the family room of the little three-bedroom cabin two hours’ drive from Chicago.
“Aw, I missed you, too,” he cooed.
Remy looked up in alarm, probably hearing the note of mischief in Jason’s voice. But he was too slow to escape. Jason dragged him up from the bed and into a bear hug. He squeezed him tight, growling obnoxiously. His own well-muscled frame, enhanced by the rigorous duties of a firefighter, allowed him to manhandle Remy with ease. Lugging people around wasn’t usually this much fun, but it was essential in rescue situations.
“Jason!” he yelled, squirming to break free.
Heck yeah, Remy could rub all over him any day of the week. He’d have to find a few more reasons to wrestle with his favorite “little brother.” Then again, given how his cock was taking interest in Remy, maybe he should stop thinking of him as a little brother.
“Put me down,” Remy demanded. “I’m not a kid anymore!”
Jason released him with another growl and a quiet murmur in his ear. “You’re definitely not a kid, Remy.” He drew back and shook out his arms. “Damn, how much weight have you put on?”
Remy punched him in the shoulder. He was stronger than he looked, and the hit had some force behind it. Damn. Jason wasn’t about to let on that it hurt, so he laughed. “Nice to see you too.”
“You’re always such an asshole.”
Jason shrugged. “Just being myself.”
Remy smiled reluctantly, and Jason couldn’t get over how much he’d changed. Remy had always had good bones, but the full force of his attractiveness didn’t come out until he was older. He’d been gangly and awkward in his early teen years, but he’d grown into his body around seventeen and Jason suddenly had trouble looking at anyone else in the room. He’d been sideswiped by his interest in Remy, having dated only girls. He didn’t go to college, so he missed out on the typical drunk college experimentation, but eventually he’d come to terms with being bisexual. As usual, he was slow to catch on.
Unfortunately for Remy, those confusing years had led Jason to act in a less than mature manner. He tended to turn into an asshole anytime someone called attention to Remy as a way of deflecting. As his attraction grew, Jason put all his energy into treating Remy like a kid brother. He teased him to the point of tears, pulled pranks that made Remy crazy angry, and behaved like an all-around butthead. In turn, Remy had given him the cold shoulder — which only made Jason tease him more to get his attention — and matched Jason prank for prank.
Clothes were sabotaged; embarrassing photos were taken; shoelaces were tied together; and water was splashed over sheets to create the illusion of wetting the bed, and the list went on and on. It had turned into a rivalry between them. One full of animosity, but on Jason’s part at least, also admiration. He loved Remy like family — he loved all the Wells — and he always would.
Remy lugged his huge suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. “Well, fun as this reunion has been, I’m going to hit the shower.”
“Holy hell, are you moving in, Remy?” Jason joked. It looked like Remy had enough clothes for a three-week stay, rather than a three-day one.
“Very funny.”
Remy flung open the suitcase, and Jason watched him pull out a T-shirt and sweats. But his attention stalled on the underwear. Holy fuck, those briefs were tiny.
He reached out and picked up a scrap of red silk and held it outstretched on each finger.
“Are you a stripper now?”
Remy would make a fucking fantastic stripper. Jason was willing to bet he was a good dancer. He probably hit the gay clubs and gave those guys a show that would be the stuff of Jason’s fantasies.
Remy snatched the underwear from his hand. “Give me that!”
He kept the briefs with his pile of clothes to change into and zipped the suitcase closed.
“Don’t even think of going through my stuff while I’m gone. If I find out you’ve paraded my underwear all over the house …”
“What, Remy?” Jason asked. “What are you going to do about it?”
Yeah, that’ll impress him. Good one, Jason.
The two of them had operated in adversarial roles for so long that antagonizing each other came naturally. But Jason wasn’t a teenager threatened by his own sexuality anymore. He was no longer interested in the immature warring of boys. He hoped this visit could change their dynamics to something friendly.
Just friendly, though.
As hot as Remy was, he was still off-limits, seeing that guy in the photo with the dumb hair and the smug smile. And even if he wasn’t, he was Derek’s little brother. Totally forbidden fruit. His gaze skimmed over Remy’s body once more, lingering on the fit of his jeans.
But tasty, I bet.
Remy shook his head with a weary sigh, completely unaware of Jason’s inner lust monologue. He seemed almost sad, though Jason couldn’t put his finger on what made him think that. Maybe the tightness around his mouth or the shadows in his eyes.
“Nothing, JJ. Have a blast. I’m not going to let you bother me anymore.”
Remy started toward the door, the red briefs still in his stack of clothes. Jason’s stomach clenched at the idea of Remy wearing that sexy underwear under his sweats.
“I wouldn’t mess with your underwear,” he blurted.
Remy glanced back over his shoulder. His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No?”
“Like you said, we’re not kids anymore.”
Remy nodded, eyes still a bit wary.
“And that underwear is no joke,” he added, watching Remy’s expression. “It’s crazy sexy. I look forward to watching you in those sweats, knowing you’re wearing those tiny red briefs underneath.”
Remy’s mouth dropped open.
“Have a good shower,” Jason added with a grin.
Remy huffed and whirled back to open the door. He disappeared into the hall, muttering under his breath about straight men and their mocking. He was wrong on two counts. Jason wasn’t straight, and he wasn’t mocking. He was 100 percent turned on.
Remy might be forbidden fruit, but that didn’t mean Jason couldn’t rattle him without a single touch. In fact, it was better that way. He could release some of his pent-up attraction without the fallout of sleeping with his best friend’s little brother.
After time spent raising children, earning several college degrees, and traveling the world with the U.S. State Department, she is returning to her first love - writing.
A dreamer and an idealist, Amy writes about people finding connection in a world that can seem lonely and magic in a world that can seem all too mundane. She invites readers into her characters’ lives and worlds when they are their most vulnerable, their most human, living with the same hopes and fears we all have. An avid traveler who has lived in big cities and small towns in four different continents, Amy has found that time and distance are no barriers to love. She invites her readers to reach out and share how her characters have touched their lives or how the found families they have gathered around them have shaped their worlds.
Born on Long Island, NY, Amy has lived in Los Angeles, London, and Bangkok. She currently lives in a town suspiciously like Red Deer, Colorado.
Beth Bolden lives in Portland, Oregon with her supportive husband. She wholly believes in Keeping Portland Weird, but wishes she didn’t have to make the yearly pilgrimage up to Seattle to watch her Boston Red Sox play baseball. She’s a fan of fandoms, and spends too much of her free time on tumblr.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published eight novels and two novellas, with Catch Me, the next novel in the Kitchen Gods series, releasing in May 2018.
S.C. Wynne started writing m/m in 2013 and did look back once. She wanted to say that because it seems everyone’s bio says they never looked back and, well S.C. Wynne is all about the joke. She loves writing m/m and her characters are usually a little jaded, funny and ultimately redeemed through love.
S.C loves red wine, margaritas and Seven and Seven’s. Yes, apparently S.C. Wynne is incredibly thirsty. S.C. Wynne loves the rain and should really live in Seattle but instead has landed in sunny, sunny, unbelievably sunny California. Writing is the best profession she could have chosen because S.C. is a little bit of a control freak. To sit in her pajamas all day and pound the keys of her laptop controlling the every thought and emotion of the characters she invents is a dream come true.
If you’d like to contact S.C. Wynne she is amusing herself on Facebook at all hours of the day or you can contact her at scwynne@dslextreme.com.
Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!
Cara Dee
I'm often stoically silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there's so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. There's a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve. Additionally, I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I'm a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, and geeking. There's time for hockey and cupcakes, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
DJ JamisonDJ Jamison is the author of more than a dozen m/m romances, including the Ashe Sentinel series and the Hearts and Health series. She writes a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual, with a focus on telling love stories that are more about common ground than lust at first sight. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that, and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors' books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, two fish and, regrettably, one snake.
AE Wasp
EMAIL: amy@aewasp.com
Beth Bolden
SC Wynne
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO
EMAIL: scwynne@scwynne.com 
Fairytale of LaGuardia by AE Wasp & Beth Bolden
Mistletoe Omega by SC Wynne
Lucky Dip by Clare London
Out for the Holidays by Cara Dee
Yours for the Holiday by DJ Jamison
