November Book of the Month: Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters

Summary:
In Darkness #1
When Felix is hired to take care of a recently blinded man, he thinks his life might finally be turning around. It has to be better than where he came from, but he has no idea what he’s signed up for. Lane is depressed, rude, and difficult to be around. It doesn’t help that Felix is clearly not qualified for the job, especially since he can’t even make oatmeal right. But Felix is trying to make his life better, so he’ll put up with the man even if it requires some unconventional methods. Felix’s humor soon pulls Lane out of his depression, and Felix feels like things are finally going right in his life.

That is, until he’s attacked by someone who wants to keep Lane quiet. It’s clear that Lane isn’t who he’s pretending to be, and Felix should probably walk away. But Felix has finally found a place where he belongs and he’s willing to go to great lengths to stay by Lane’s side. Even if it involves kidnapping, stealing, and Felix’s overwhelmingly bad ideas, Felix will do just about anything because Lane is there for him unlike anyone else has ever been. Felix might be out of his element, but one thing he is sure about is that he doesn’t want to leave Lane… even if it costs him his life.

Hidden in Darkness is 90k words of snark, car chases, and morally questionable choices.

*Newly edited with an updated cover.

A couple of weeks ago I went into one of the M/M book recommendation groups on Facebook and asked for 2 different type of books and Alice Winters' In Darkness series was rec'd for both of them coupled with follow bloggers that I have always valued their opinions on recs have talked great things about her work, I knew it was time I gave her a try.  What took me so long to do so I'll never know because her writing is great.  Character chemistry, humor, danger, romance, heart - it's all here.  Hidden in Darkness is A-Freakin'-Mazing!!!

On the surface Lane is  . . . well to be ladylike, a jerk but he has reason to behave the way he does having been recently blinded after a lifetime of sight can't be an easy thing to adjust to especially as we learn more about his occupation and the things he did.  Felix is a smarta . . . well once again to be ladylike😉, brash, cocky, cheeky - you get the picture.  Together they are a perfect fit, they are exactly what the other needs even if they both fight it, the chemistry is instantaneous.  Having said all that I still wanted to whack their heads together many, many times😉😉.

As I said above I was asking for recs on Facebook and one of the recs was a Nick and Nora Charles-like chemistry, well Felix and Lane definitely have that.  Their bickering banter is hilarious, their differing detecting styles is dangerously effective, and their lust-filled attraction is explosive.  Put these all together and Felix and Lane are highly addictive.

Now the other rec I asked for was caregiving and though Felix's approach to Lane is a bit unorthodox at times it fits with Lane's personality and Felix takes his job seriously, even if it doesn't always appear so.  It is the unorthodox moments that you realize Felix isn't only helping Lane and putting up with his crap but he's also trying to teach Lane that being blind isn't the end of living.  It may take a while and Lane may fight it every step of the way but before you know it he is trying to prove to others that he can still be useful all the while never losing that snarky spark that brought him and Felix together.

Now whether the bad guys and life in general allows the pair to continue forward is something you will have to read for yourself and trust me you will definitely want to read their journey.  Hidden in Darkness is only the beginning of Lane and Felix' story and as much as I want to jump right in to the next installment unfortunately I'll have to wait until after the holidays but it will definitely be one of the first things I read once my Christmas 2019 reading list is done.  As I said before, this is my first Alice Winters story but it won't be my last.

RATING:

Prologue
Lane
I know I have to run.

I know I have to get away.

But I can’t. I can barely move.

My hand hits my leg, and I’m shocked by how close it is. I jerk my hand back as everything compresses around me until I feel like I can’t breathe, but I can’t let the darkness take me. Not yet. 

I know that I have to move. 

There’s noise outside the room. I can hear it, but it’s getting farther and farther away from me. Desperately, I grip onto the noise since it’s the only thing that feels real at this moment. 

Calm down, Lane. This is what you’re trained to do. 

Is it? Am I trained for situations like this? Situations where I have been thrown into the darkness, where the walls collapse down tight on top of me until I can’t breathe? It’s almost bad enough that I can forget the throbbing that is consuming every inch of my body. 

My hand is shaking as I strain my fingers in an attempt to reach down and touch my leg. My pants are wet, but I could have figured that out without even touching them. My wrist aches against the restraint, so I give in, letting myself rest at a more comfortable angle. 

I need help. I need medical attention. 

I need to get out. 

I need to live. 

The duct tape around my wrist is wet, slick with blood. I pull on it as the bruises scream, but I can’t stop because I don’t know when he’ll come back. 

Five hours? 

Five minutes? 

Five seconds? 

I need to get out.

Straining, I twist and pull my left arm as the tape bunches. The struggling is causing the blood to run against the tape until it begins to slide. My aching hand screams as I twist and pull until I feel it start to give. I pull it free and slump down in the chair. 

Now just one more hand. 

I feel like I’m going to pass out, and for a moment, I have to focus on staying alert. 

My fingers are shaking as I reach over until my hand bumps into the arm of the chair. This one is tight against the chair instead of loose like the other. The tape on this wrist is dry, so I run my fingers over it until I feel a slight catch. I can’t tell if it’s a ripple in the tape or the end of it, but I begin to dig at it with my fingernails. Each bump of my left hand against my right makes it ache. My hand feels like it’s broken, but I don’t think it is. All I know is that each tug of the tape makes me want to scream, so I grit my teeth and pull. I even my breath, breathing in for three seconds, breathing out for three seconds. 

I can’t pass out. 

My hand goes around and around, tugging and pulling at the tape, but I can’t tell how much is left. I can’t tell if I’m close to the end or still at the beginning.

I can’t tell anything in this dark world. 

The tape pulls free, and I can’t help the smile that touches my face. 

I’m free! 

For now. 

Instead of tossing the tape to the ground, I set it against my bleeding leg and begin to wrap it around the wound. I pull it tight and have to grit my teeth as I keep it pressed against the wound. I wind it again and again as heat begins to consume my body, telling me that I’m close to passing out. 

I can’t… not yet. 

I tuck the end of the tape in, praying it’ll stay. Slumping against the chair, I feel nauseous as sweat soaks my shirt. I have to waste a precious moment regaining my composure until I feel prepared to make my escape. If I make a single mistake, this will be over. I won’t get a second chance. 

It doesn’t matter how much pain I’m in, I know that if I don’t make it out of here now, I will die. 

Using my one good arm and the arm of the chair, I push myself to my feet, favoring my left leg. I know where the door is; it’s in front of me. But I can’t remember how far away. 

Four feet?

Six feet?

It feels like a mile as I take my first step. My weight comes down on my leg, and I nearly fall to the ground, but I manage to steady myself. When I hit the door, I am elated. I have made it this far. I can make it. I can do this. 

I set my hand against the cool metal door and slide it to the edge until I feel where the door meets the doorframe. Then I run my hand down until I hit the doorknob. Desperately, I grab onto it and pull. 

It gives easily in my hand, making me want to grin at their mistake, but I can’t get the grimace off my face. 

They’re not afraid of me escaping. 

How far can a blind man go?

I’ll show them how fucking far I can go. 

I step out into the hallway as I try to remember the path I was taken in through. Back when my world wasn’t consumed by darkness. 

There were stairs. I remember the stairs that I was dragged down; now I just have to find them. With my good hand against the wall, I begin to walk. Each step as painful as the last. It feels like the world is closing in on me as the darkness consumes me. 

There could be a man directly in front of me, and I would never see him until I am on him. They could be laughing at me as I drag my body through the hall, praying for stairs I am not sure I will ever find. 

My hand touches a door and I debate opening it, but even if there is a gun sitting right inside, I can’t do anything with it. I am useless now. 

No, I am not useless. I can get out of here. 

My hand slides forward, dropping as the wall falls away. I don’t realize how much weight I had been pressing against it until I am falling forward. Desperately, I reach out, hoping to catch myself, but the moment my right hand hits, my wrist gives, and I slam down onto the stairs. 

I dig the nails of my left hand into the step as I lie against them. 

Well… I found the stairs. 

I grab onto the next step and pull myself up, first placing one knee, and then the next as I crawl up them. I know I need to get to my feet, but I’m not sure I can. Carefully, I slide each hand forward, feeling my path as I edge up each step. 

When my hand doesn’t reach another step, I stretch it out, feeling the path before me until I hit a wall. I slide my hand along it until I find a doorknob and turn it. I pull the door toward me, but it won’t give, so I push it away. 

For all I know, I’m stepping right into the pit of vipers. I can’t check, I can just listen. As I step through the door, I feel the cool air on the left side of my face. Slowly I turn my head as if I could see something and move toward it. 

Could this be a door leading out? Could it be this simple? 

None of this has been simple so far. 

My hand hits a door, and suddenly I can feel the cool metal. I move my hand until I find another handle and pull it open. The smell of fresh rain fills my nose as I grasp onto the sound of birds in the distance. 

I have made it outside, but it doesn’t mean I’m free.

The wind blows, disrupting my hair and angering the wounds on my face. I want to lie down. Just rest for a moment, but I know that if I do, I won’t get back up, and I can’t give up. I’ve made it too far now, but doubt sets in regardless. I have no idea where I’m at; I can’t grab a car and drive away. I am lost in this world of darkness and can barely breathe. My chest feels like it’s compressing as I take my first step. I can hear gravel beneath my feet as I reach out, wishing to find a wall to support me. 

There’s nothing left, making me feel like every step I take could lead to my death. Like I would fall into a pit and drop straight to hell. 

Then I hear it. 

A dog barking. 

The sound is distant but steady. 

A rhythm, almost. 

Constant. 

It could be leading me to my death, but it could also be leading me to my freedom. 

So, I begin to walk. Slowly placing each foot in front of the other. It feels like a dream, almost like I am walking on nothing and everything. Carefully, I keep moving forward, forcing one step after the other. 

The barking grows louder. 

It feels like I’ve walked for hours.

Or days. 

Or a lifetime. 

I will reach that dog. I will reach it, and I pray that when I do, it will lead to my freedom from this hell.

Chapter One

Felix

I check my phone for the fourth time to make sure it’s the right address, as if I have forgotten how to read and might be at the wrong place. But I hate going to places I have never been to before, so I check it one more time, just in case. When I’m certain that I’m at the right location, I get out of my car and walk up the sidewalk, toward the gray, one-story house. It has a small porch with some weathered wicker chairs set out on it. I walk up the steps and across the porch to the dark blue door. I knock on it, before stepping back and waiting. It isn’t long before the door swings open, and a man in his forties looks out at me. 

He smiles at me as he swings the door open wider. “You must be Mr. Wake,” the man says as he holds his hand out. His brown hair is cut short and gray hair is starting to mix in. He has dark blue eyes that are hidden behind black-framed glasses. 

“Yes, I am,” I say as I take his hand and shake it. “Just call me Felix though.” 

“I’m James Dixon. I was the one that talked to you last night on the phone.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say as I look up at him. Sadly, I seem to have to look up at half the population. Not half the adult population, but half the population as a whole. 

“Please, come in,” he says as he holds the door open for me. “I’m glad to finally meet with you in person. I’ve been very busy, so I was unable to do the interviews, but Dani thought you were the best choice, so here we are.” 

“Yes, thanks for giving me this opportunity,” I say with a smile. 

“Right this way,” he says. “You can meet Lane, and then I’ll show you around the house.”

“Okay,” I say, looking around curiously as he leads me through the kitchen and into the living room. The house is very nice but noticeably bare. It looks like someone had just moved in and had forgotten to decorate any of the rooms. There are no pictures on the walls or anything that looks personalized. Everything looks like it was bought from a home décor store and just stuck on the wall or on a shelf without any meaning to it. It reminds me more of a house ready for market than one actually being lived in. 

The television is on in the living room, and in the middle of the room is a man in a wheelchair. His back is facing us, but he turns his head a little in our direction, telling me he’s heard us. 

“This is Lane,” James says, and the man turns his head a bit more in our direction. 

“James, if that is someone to babysit me, I swear to God I’m going to be so pissed,” he growls. 

Clearly, I’ve made an excellent first impression, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. Generally, I get a few words out before people decide to hate me. 

“It’s not,” James says calmly. “Go ahead, introduce yourself.” 

I walk around to the front of the wheelchair the man is sitting in. His head turns as he tries to follow the sound of my footsteps with his ears. I can see a stretch of a healing red cut running along his left cheekbone, hidden slightly by the dark sunglasses he’s wearing. Even though he is in his own home, the fact that he is blind must bother him enough that he feels like he needs to hide it. He has a blanket lying over his lap, but I know from the interview that he had hurt his left leg. All this from a drunk driver hitting his car. He’ll be blind forever because of another man’s negligence. I guess I would be a bit of a grouch too if someone had ripped my vision away from me. 

“Hi, Mr. Price, my name is Felix Wake,” I say. 

“And, Mr. Wake, what are you doing in my home?” he asks as venom drips off his words. 

I look over at James and raise an eyebrow as I realize I’m not welcome. 

“Felix is going to be assisting you until you get better,” James says. 

“I don’t need help, because I am not helpless.” He’s scowling at us and I know that if I could see his eyes they’d be glaring at me. He looks to be in his mid or late thirties with rich brown hair that looks a bit unkempt. The right side is sticking straight up, and the left lies naturally. His facial hair looks scruffy, like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. His cheeks look hollow like he is beyond exhaustion, but it is clear that this man used to be quite active by the way his T-shirt clings around his muscular arms and stomach. So honestly, it’s not my fault that I can’t help my straying eyes. 

“Felix will be staying in the guest bedroom and will take care of the cleaning, cooking, and care for you,” James explains, and I hope he hasn’t noticed my betraying eyes. 

Lane laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “It’s my house; I can decide what to do with it and how to take care of myself,” he says. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he looks just a bit uglier. Who am I kidding? The man is gorgeous. 

“Well, Lane, he’s moving in tomorrow,” James says. “So, you better get used to it.” 

Lane seems to decide that he’s done with the conversation and starts to ignore us. Instead, he aims all his concentration toward the TV, making James sigh. “Right this way, Felix.” 

I follow as he leads me over to the hallway. Even these walls are empty of pictures and color. Just white walls, white trim. It feels sterile, like a hospital or a school.

“First door on the left is the bathroom,” he says. I glance through the open doorway as he continues walking. “Next door is Lane’s room. Then yours is right here.” 

Lane’s bedroom door is closed, but James pushes open the door to the guest bedroom. I peek in, but from here all I can see is the full-sized bed. I run my hand through my ear-length, blond hair and pray that I had made the right decision coming here. I worry at a tip of my hair before dropping my hand down. 

I glance over at James, who is staring at his phone. “Is it alright with me being here?” I ask a bit skeptically. Clearly, the occupant of the house didn’t want me within ten miles of him, and we hadn’t even shared words yet beyond an introduction. 

“Of course. Don’t listen to Lane. I make the decisions, not him. He thinks he can do everything, but I don’t want him alone all day. He can be reckless at times, and I know if he’s alone he’ll end up doing something stupid and hurting himself. Really, he’s not a bad guy. He’s is just… not taking this well. He’s angry and upset, so he seems to be lashing out at anyone that looks his way. He is used to being independent and self-sufficient, not relying on others. You alright with this?”

“Yes, of course,” I say as I glance into my room. It looks as bare and lifeless as the rest of the house. 

“Here,” James says, pulling my attention back to him. I notice that he’s holding out a credit card, so I reach for it. “Buy groceries for Lane and yourself with this. It can also be used for whatever necessities are needed. Dani said she’d already gone over all the details with you. Are there any questions?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” I say as I clutch the credit card in my hand, slightly unsure of what to do with it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says. He shakes my hand again, but for some reason, I feel like “if you decide to come back” had been hanging onto the end of his words. 

He turns around and continues back through the hallway, so I follow him into the living room. 

“He’s not gone yet?” Lane grumbles. 

“Not yet,” James says. 

“Did you tell him the last babysitter didn’t make it a day?” he asks like he’s proud of himself. I’m kind of proud of him because I can’t imagine that would be easy to do. 

“Nope, but now he’s well aware,” James says with a grimace. 

I can’t help but grin. To me, that sounds like a challenge, and one thing I do enjoy is a challenge. “I’ll be back tomorrow to start,” I say, trying to sound very happy about it. “Can’t wait to see you again, Lane!” 

“Don’t bother coming back,” he growls, and I almost laugh as I head out the door. 

*****

I knock on the door, but James must have seen me pull up because he pulls the door open before my hand even hits a second time. 

“Good to see you back,” he says eagerly. “Sorry to run, but I need to be home by six. You have any questions?”

The bag is weighing down my arm, and right now I just want to find a place to put it. “Not that I can think of,” I say. 

“Here’s my number. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” he says as he passes me a piece of paper with a list of contacts. His number is handwritten at the top, and I notice the rest of the numbers are for doctors. Not a single contact looks like a family member’s. 

“Thank you,” I say. 

He smiles and passes by me, leaving me in the house alone with the man who hates my guts. That’s alright, I’ve lived with people that hated me before. How could this one be any worse? I carry my suitcase down the hall, between the white, looming walls, and set it just inside my bedroom door. Then I walk into the living room where Lane is sitting before the TV that’s playing a movie. He doesn’t even look in my direction as I walk in, instead, he stays facing the TV with his blanket around his lap and sunglasses firmly in place. 

“Lane, it’s Felix,” I say. “How are you doing today?” 

He doesn’t move, just completely ignores me as he taps the edge of his wheelchair with his finger. 

“Do you need anything?” I ask.

Silence. The TV is playing The Hangover, which he doesn’t seem to be enjoying. It’s the part where the man jumps out of the trunk, but he’s acting like it’s a movie about the Holocaust. 

I walk over to him. “Is your water full?” I ask as I pick the bottle up. It’s full, but the water is warm. “I’ll get you something cold. Just water or something else?” 

“Maybe I want my water warm,” he says. 

I debate saying something, but I don’t. It probably wouldn’t look good to bad-mouth a blind man, so I put the lid back on and set it down. “Alright, one warm water coming right up,” I say. I pause, waiting to see if he’ll say anything, before sighing. “I’m going to go unpack. If you need something, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

I walk back to my bedroom where I toss my suitcase on my bed and open it. The room is bigger than the one I’d had at my last apartment, which really isn’t saying much. This one has a nice full-sized bed, which is an upgrade from the twin I had still been sleeping on at the age of twenty-five. There is a dresser in the corner and a desk, but the room is simple. When I pull the dresser drawers open, the smell of fresh wood touches my nose. I put my underwear and socks in the first drawer, shirts in the second, pants in the third, and sweatshirts in the last drawer. There isn’t much else in my suitcase. A few books, a few movies. Everything else I own is in my car since I had decided to completely move out of my apartment. I didn’t need it if I am living here, so what’s the use of paying rent on it? And it isn’t like I would have trouble finding another dumpy apartment if this didn’t work out. 

I walk back into the living room. “Do you need something?” 

“Please, just go away,” he says sharply. 

Alright. I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards, but there isn’t much. Thankfully, there is enough to get by until tomorrow because I really don’t feel like grocery shopping today. I’m sure I won’t feel like grocery shopping tomorrow either, but it has to be a little easier using someone else’s credit card. I walk back into the living room and sit down in a chair. There’s not much left of the movie, so I wait until it’s over. 

“I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so I’m wondering if you could tell me what types of food you like?” I ask as soon as the credits roll. 

He keeps his face forward, refusing to even turn his head a fraction in my direction. “How about meats? You like chicken?” I ask. 

He ignores me, so I just lean back and watch the TV. 

“You want to sit in a chair? That wheelchair can’t be comfortable.”

Ha, like I would actually get an answer! 

When supper time comes around, I cook rice and chicken since that is basically all that I can find in the house. I dish it up into a bowl, grab a fork, and carry it into the living room. After setting his tray up in front of him, I place the bowl on it. 

“I made rice and chicken. There wasn’t much else in the house, so this is what we’ll have to make do with. I put your fork on the right,” I say. 

He doesn’t even turn his head toward the food. 

“I’ll be back,” I say before getting up and walking into the kitchen. I watch from the doorway as he slowly reaches for his fork. He has a brace on his right hand, but he tries to set it against the bowl, so he can feel it. I know that his hand isn’t broken, but he seems to be having trouble using it. I know he doesn’t want me to watch him fumble, which is why he refused to eat in front of me. I sigh and eat my food from the doorway of the kitchen, so I can watch in case he needs something. 

When he’s done I walk back in. 

“Was it okay?” 

“No,” he says. 

Of course not. 

“What would you have liked different?” 

“All of it.” 

Of course. 

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s how I cook. If you’d like something specific, I’ll make it for dinner tomorrow.” 

I don’t even expect an answer, so I pick up the bowls and wash them in the sink before drying them. After a few hours of TV, I get no response when I ask if he wants a snack or if he wants to take a shower. 

“Alright, bedtime,” I say. 

“I’m not a child.” 

“Never said you were,” I say. But since he can’t do anything about it, I grab the back of his wheelchair and wheel him down the hallway and into the bathroom. “Toothbrush… where’s your toothbrush?” 

“Up your ass,” he says. 

“Nope, I think I would have noticed it there,” I say. 

I open the cupboards and finally find it in the end drawer. I put toothpaste on it and wet it. “Here you go,” I say as I place it in his hand. He instinctively grabs it, and I’m thrilled when he finally brushes his teeth. When he’s done, I put the toothbrush back where I found it. 

“I need to pee, so leave,” he says as he tries to show me out with a wave of his hand. 

“You expect me to leave while you try to pee alone?” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“What, you want to fondle my dick or something?” 

Maybe. 

“Your leg is hurt, and your hand is hurt, so I think I’ll help you onto the toilet. I can leave then if you insist, I just don’t want you to fall,” I say as I wheel him over to the toilet. 

He’s bigger than me, so I put the lock on the wheelchair and wrap an arm behind his back. With his help, I manage to get him up. He slides his pants down, so I guide him onto the toilet. 

“Alright, I’m leaving but only if you promise to tell me when you’re done. Don’t do something stupid on your own.” 

He ignores me as I walk out and shut the door. It isn’t long before I hear a loud crash, so I yank the door open to find Lane half on the ground with everything knocked off the countertop. Quickly, I rush over and grab him, so I can help pull him into the chair. 

As I help him, I don’t even bother saying anything because I can tell he’s mad at himself and would probably snap at me if I did. Instead, I kick the stuff on the floor out of the way and wheel him through the doorway and into his bedroom. “I want to check your wounds and then you can go to bed.” 

I ruffle through the mess that James had left for me, but I get the gist of what’s there. “I have to pull your sweatpants down, alright?” I say as I do just that, so I can get to his thigh. I look at the staples, which seem to be healing well. It won’t be long before he’ll be able to get them out and get out of the wheelchair. I clean the area and help him back into his sweats. He also has a cut on his arm and a small one on his other leg that I check. “There. Everything feels alright?” 

He ignores me, so I help him up into his bed and pull the sheets over him. 

“Can I check your eyes?” I ask since I haven’t seen him with the sunglasses off yet. 

“No, I’ve already taken care of them.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask. 

“They’re fine.” 

“Goodnight. If you need anything, wake me up. What time do you usually get up in the morning?” 

Silence. “Yeah, me too,” I say before walking out of the room. 

*****

I wake at eight and help Lane into the living room without much incident and without any kind words from him. 

“Do you want to sit in a chair or lay down?” 

Silence. 

Oh, I can only be nice for so long. “Lane, I am speaking to you,” I say. “You’re not deaf. Answer me.” 

“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone!” he says as he slams his hand down on the arm of the chair. 

I honestly think he just wants to rot in that chair and let depression consume him. “Well, sorry, but your pity party of one just gained a new member,” I say. “And guess what? I’m not leaving. I’m going to help you whether you like it or not because I get paid, which I like.” 

He turns his head toward me. “Did you seriously just say that?” 

“I did, and in retrospect, it might have been a bit mean. But I feel like you also thought it was slightly funny,” I say. 

“So, you’re a comedian now?” 

“Oh no. I just say stuff that gets me in trouble, but no one’s here to yell at me. If I keep getting paid I’m staying. It’s your choice whether you want it to be a fun and pleasant experience or hell.” 

“My life is already hell.” 

I snort. “Trust me, buddy, I can make it worse. I could… put you in the corner… take away your blanket… feed you dog food,” I say as I try not to laugh. 

“Can’t be any worse than what you fed me last night,” he says, and I feel like I can see a slight upturn of his lips. Maybe he isn’t all bad. 

I laugh in surprise. “You are pure evil.” 

“Then maybe you should leave now.” 

“No, I’m not going to.” I grab his water bottle and go into the kitchen where I run the water until it is almost hot. I fill up his cup and carry it into the living room where I hand it to him. “Here’s your water.” 

He takes it from me and I watch with a grin as he takes a sip of it and spits it out. “What is this?” He shakes the cup and water sloshes out. 

“Yesterday you said you liked your water warm.”

“Oh, really funny,” he says, but his words don’t have the venom they held earlier. He throws it at me, and let me say, for a blind guy, he has a really good aim. It hits me square in the forehead and I stumble back as water showers me. 

“Ow!” I snap as I grab my head. It feels like I should have a welt the size of an egg on my head. 

“Did that hit you?” he asks as he tries to hide a grin. 

“I’m going to have a brain tumor now.” 

“I don’t see anything,” he says as he looks quite content with himself. “Not even a red spot.”

“Hmm. I’m going to buy you cat food for lunch,” I say. 

“From the limited amount of time I have spent with you I have decided that you’re actually quite mean. I guess you’re really not the little happy boy you were pretending to be yesterday,” he says. 

“Being around you for any amount of time can turn a saint into a sinner,” I say. 

“If you’re insistent on joining this ‘pity party,’ go make me some oatmeal.” 

“I thought you didn’t like my food,” I say. 

“Hopefully even you can’t ruin oatmeal,” he says. 

“One could hope,” I say as I turn from him and walk into the kitchen. I pour the little packet of oatmeal into a bowl as well as some milk and slip it into the microwave. Then I pull open all the wrong drawers before finding the spoons. Once the oatmeal is cooked, I carry it into the living room and set it down in front of Lane. “Spoon on the right.” 

He reaches for it and touches it gingerly. I think he is waiting for me to leave, but I don’t. I honestly can’t. I also can’t wipe the grin off my face. He sticks his spoon into the oatmeal, grabbing a spoonful before raising it to his mouth. 

“What is this? Soup?” he asks as he tips the spoon and everything runs off. 

“I may have added a bit too much milk,” I admit. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but instead of trying to drain any of the milk, I had decided he could drink it with a straw if he is going to be mean.

“How did you get hired?” he asks in shock. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I say. “I guess I’m good at talking women into things. Alright, I’m going shopping. You going to tell me what you want?” 

“I want you to leave. I mean, if I have to suffer and be taken care of like I’m an invalid, I would at least like someone that cooks.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I can buy cooking skills at the store. So, think of something edible. How about meats. Are you picky?” 

He tries to eat the oatmeal, but every spoonful is just milk. “Is there actually any oatmeal in here?” he asks.

“Just drink it,” I suggest. “So, I’m just going to go buy you things and hope you’re not allergic to any of it. You want to go with me?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Okay. What would you like to do while I’m gone?” 

He gets a look on his face like he has a bright idea. “Why don’t you go get me a book? Oh, and set up a puzzle for me, too,” he suggests. 

“Alright,” I say. I walk into the hallway and turn left into his bedroom. There’s a bookshelf shoved against the wall filled with books. The man must have loved to read because it’s overflowing out onto the floor. I pick the first book off the top of the pile, walk back into the living room, and set the book on his lap. “Here you are. I couldn’t find a puzzle though, but I can pick you up one at the store. A thousand pieces wouldn’t be too hard for you, would it?” 

The expression on his face shows me his shock. “Oh ho… that’s mean,” he says, unable to hide his grin. He grabs the book and chucks it at me. Thankfully, this time he misses and the book skids across the floor. 

“You asked for it!” I say as I pick the book up off the ground and set it on the coffee table. “Want the TV on?” I ask as I pick up the remote.

“As long as you don’t do it,” he says. I turn it on anyway and flip through it until I find the Spanish movie channel, really hoping he doesn’t know Spanish. 

“How’d you know that this is my favorite channel?” he jokes. 

“I’m good like that. I’ll be back in an hour or so. I have my cell, so if you need anything I have my number dialed in it. All you have to do is ask Siri. You do remember my name, right?” 

He picks up his phone, holds the button and lifts it toward his face. “Siri, call shit for brains.” 

“I don’t see Shit in your contacts. Should I look for locations by that name?” Siri asks. 

Nice. 

I grab my car keys and walk out the door.

Author Bio:
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.

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Saturday's Series Spotlight: North Pole City Tales by Charlie Cochet Part 1

Everyone has heard of Santa’s home in the frozen north, where elves and reindeer work hard to ensure Christmas cheer for the world. But that’s only part of the story….

All is not sparkly snowflakes and sweet candy canes in Mayor Kringle’s city. Sometimes it takes more than a little courage to keep the workshops running smoothly and enemies at bay. When their duties are complete, the Rein Dear, elves, winter spirits—and a legendary figure or two—are ready to spice up their chilly nights… and hopefully find a happily ever after along the way. Sometimes it’s waiting in the last place they expected.

With adventure, magic, and romance hot enough to melt the polar ice, these holidays won’t soon be forgotten. Welcome to North Pole City, where love is the greatest gift of all.

Mending Noel #1
Summary:
All is not sparkly snowflakes and sweet candy canes in North Pole City. Office workers Tim and Noel do nothing all day but antagonize each other—petty fighting that might be based on hatred… or a heated mutual attraction. It’s up to Jack Frost and his elf-friend Rudy to broach the hostilities and introduce some Christmas kisses, but is the Frost Prince up to the challenge of launching a new romance when someone’s trying to break his holiday spirit?

The Heart of Frost #2
Summary:
At the North Pole, no one is more powerful and feared than the Prince of Frost. As general of the toy soldier army, Jack Frost has been working extra hard to put away the villainous Mouse King once and for all. If that isn’t taxing enough, Jack has to deal with the scandal and gossip brought on by news of his relationship with Rudy Rein Dear, captain of the Rein Dear Squadron, which hit headlines last holiday season. Lucky for Jack, his reputation has managed to deter any foolish attempts to stir up trouble. At least until now.

When someone sabotages Rudy’s plane during a test run a few weeks before Christmas, Jack is determined to find the culprit by any means necessary. The closer he gets to finding answers, the more difficulty he has not falling back to his icy ways. Has the Mouse King stepped up his game in order to throw Jack off his, or is someone a little closer to home behind the attempt on Rudy’s life? Either way, Jack has every intention of delivering a Christmas they won’t soon forget, even if it means losing the newfound warmth in his heart.

The Valor of Vixen #3
Summary:
Rein Dear is a prestigious title, accompanied by admiration, devotion, and celebrity status, all of which one saucy Vixen thrives on. Alas, Vixen’s only concerned with having fun, unlike his stuffy and sensible best friend, Rudy Rein Dear, who Vixen has always been jealous of. Aside from being chosen by Mayor Kringle to be Captain the Rein Dear Squadron, Rudy’s managed to snag himself a prince, even if that prince is the dangerous and imposing Jack Frost.

All’s not lost for Vixen though. He discovers Jack’s cousin Vale has a soft spot for him. Vale Frost might not be a dashing prince, but he’s the next best thing: a decorated Lieutenant for the Toy Soldier Army, and a member of the Frost monarchy.

Determined to get what Vixen feels he deserves, he sets off on a mission to ensnare the kind-hearted lieutenant. But Vixen’s selfish ways are sure to lead to disaster, and it’ll take more than a little courage to set things right.

Mending Noel #1

Original Review December 2017:

Mending Noel is just plain fun and completely WOWWING!!!

The Heart of Frost #2

Original Review December 2017:

The Heart of Frost is full of the fun that we found in Mending Noel and somehow Jack and Rudy wormed their way into my heart even more than Noel and Tim.

The Valor of Vixen #3

Original Review December 2017:

This series just keeps getting better and better, in Vixen's Valor not only do we get to see the characters we fell in love with in books 1 & 2 but we get to know Vale better. The heart just keeps getting more fun with each installment.

Original Books #1-3 Overall Review December 2017:
Blogger Note: This is a combined review for the first three because frankly I can't imagine just reading one of the series, for this reader its all or nothing and as I've broken the series into 2 parts for my Saturday Series Spotlights on my blog I decided that's how I would divide up the reviews as well.

Two Christmases ago I featured North Pole City Tales for my Saturday Series Spotlight, I hadn't read them then and there was only 4 books at that time but when I saw this year the author was going to release the final book in the series I decided it was the perfect time to go back and read this intriguing series from Charlie Cochet.  Then as November approached and I was beginning to plan my holiday posts I thought, "I have plenty of time to read the series".  Then Thanksgiving was here and I was doing my first holiday post but I said "I still have plenty of time to read the series and the final book doesn't even release until December 20".  Suddenly December was here, I said "I'll push North Pole City Tales Part 1 back a week but still plenty of time to read".

Well, after another push back, December 12 arrived and I decided "How will I ever get all 6 read in time?"  After opening book 1, I quickly realized that I had nothing to fear in regards to finishing in time because HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! and WOW! I ended up reading Mending Noel(#1) & The Heart of Frost(#2) in one sitting, I probably would have went on to read more that day but life reared its boring head and I wasn't able to return to Vixen's Valor(#3) until the following afternoon.

Whether you would classify NPCT as paranormal or fantasy doesn't really matter because the important factor is that its brilliant and ingenious.  I have a pretty active imagination and I can't even begin to guess what or how the author created this incredibly intriguing and fun universe and take on the holiday characters that we remember from our childhood.  Rein Dear Squadron, Jack the Prince of Frost, elves, Toy Soldier Army, the evil Mouse King, and Mayor Kringle.  They are all here and they have all got an interesting part to play as well as finding love.  I won't give anything away with this lovely holiday novella series but I will say that it has become the highlight of my seasonal reading this year.  There's a little bit of everything and its all wrapped up in a most intriguing, refreshing, and delightfully fun holiday bow.

If you haven't read NPCT then as Charlie's characters often say: Holy Hollys and for Kringle Sakes! and I'll add: What are you waiting for?  You won't be sorry.

RATING: 

Mending Noel #1
Chapter One
ANOTHER brick of invoices hit Tim’s desk, snapping him out of his carol-induced trance just when he had found the right rhythm to go with the spritely holiday tunes pulsing through the office speaker system. Now he would have to start over. Bah humbug.

How was it that everyone else seemed to be taking part in all manner of naughtiness while still ending up on the Nice List? All of Tim’s friends were doing it: sneaking into Santa’s Grotto, getting drunk on eggnog and peppermint juleps, dancing the night away, but not Tim. Oh, no. How was Tim going to be spending his Friday night?

Filing invoices.

Not just his invoices, but those of two colleagues who had recently been promoted to Cookie Cutters at the candy mills. There they would no longer be met with endless paperwork, but the heavenly wafts of gingerbread, cinnamon, vanilla, chocolate, and every tantalizing flavor in Kringle creation.

Every day, someone new managed to escape the Abominable Administrative Department for more magical pastures, and it had become a sort of temporary stop for newly graduated elves on their way to something better. Tim wished he were one of those elves. In fact, he spent a great deal more time than he should daydreaming about all the exciting possibilities, imagining all the jolly adventures to be had outside of filing and typing. Then he remembered why he was one of the only elves never to move on from the AAD. It was the only thing he could do that didn’t require some kind of flair or unique talent. He wasn’t creative or coordinated enough to work in Mayor Kringle’s Construction Firm. He didn’t have the ability make toast, much less possess the skills necessary to work at the candy mills. He wasn’t ridiculously handsome, brave, or special enough to be one of the Rein Dear Squadron—then again, few were. He wasn’t hardboiled enough to be one of the Frost King’s toy soldiers. Heck, he couldn’t even cut it as a Ribbon Curler in the Gift Packaging Plant.

It seemed like only yesterday Mr. Kringle had assured Tim he would find his calling like everyone else. After all, he was still quite young, barely into his two hundred and forty-fifth year. But most elves found their calling by the time they were one hundred and fifty, and out of Claus College. The only reason Tim was even a part of Mr. Kringle’s organization was because of Tim’s father—something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by everyone who met him. At least they all respected his father enough not to discuss it. Either that, or the pity they felt for Tim surpassed the desire to gossip.

Holding back a sigh, Tim gathered up the latest mound of completed invoices and grudgingly carried them toward the banged-up old cabinet, the one that should have been replaced decades ago. Almond bark would have made a sturdier alternative to this thing.

“Hey, Tim.”

Tim leapt into the air, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest from the unexpected fright. Around him the invoices drifted like falling snow, and the office erupted into laughter. Taking a deep, steady breath, Tim crouched down to pick up his paperwork, ignoring his supervisor, who loomed over him with a smug grin. He hated when Noel snuck up on him like that. Of course, if he stopped daydreaming, maybe Noel wouldn’t get the drop on him so often.

“Geez, Tim. You should try a few less marshmallows in your morning cocoa.”

Tim grunted noncommittally as he continued to gather the stray sheets. “Is there something you needed?” He tried not to let his irritation slip into his tone. The last thing he wanted was to give Noel an excuse to pile on more work. Tim had no idea what he could have possibly done to make the dark-haired elf dislike him so much. When Tim had first joined, Noel had been nice to him, had smiled and even held pleasant conversations with him. Now he went out of his way to avoid Tim, only interacting with him when it was absolutely necessary, and even then it always resulted in an incredibly unpleasant experience for Tim. Noel’s size and intimidating disposition didn’t help any, especially for an elf as small as Tim. Noel was the tallest elf in the AAD, broad shouldered, a few years older than Tim, and could actually be mistaken for handsome if he didn’t look so miserable all the time.

Tim couldn’t remember when it had happened, only that one day, out of the snowy blue, Noel stopped smiling at him, and had begun giving Tim a much harder time than the rest of the elves in the office. For the life of him, Tim couldn’t figure out why. There were times when he wondered if maybe Noel had found out about him….

Quickly, he shook that thought from his head. No, no one at the office knew. If Noel had known, and that was the reason for his hostility, then surely he would have confronted Tim about it by now. Instead, he tormented Tim every day from morning until the end of the work day.

Noel leaned against the filing cabinet and smirked down at him, his sharp, silver-gray eyes fixed on him. “I just wanted to remind you that tonight you’re scheduled to receive the coal delivery.”

“I know. I haven’t forgotten,” Tim grumbled, attempting to blow a stray lock of hair away from his eye while trying not to drop everything again.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Noel leaned forward and Tim went stock still. He didn’t even get a moment to contemplate what the heck Noel was about to do—or even a chance to run for the hills?before Noel swatted the papers out of his hand. They both stood watching the flurry of foolscap float to the floor all around them. Bah humbug. Again.

“Darn my clumsiness. Well, at least now your hands are free.” Noel grinned as he walked away, joking with some of the other elves about Tim’s clumsiness. No one came to help him, and even if someone did want to, they wouldn’t dare do so with Noel around. Tim couldn’t really blame them. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause of someone else’s misery.

Once he had collected every piece of paper, he spent the rest of the afternoon filing them away. Not even the bells on bob-tails ringing in the background could make his spirits bright. As usual, when evening came, he was the only one left in the office. With a groan, he let his head drop on his desk. How had his life turned out this way? Not only had his father been blessed with great magic, he had been one of the most heroic toy soldiers the Frost King had ever had; his mother had been the most beautiful and refined of the sugarplum fairies, back in the day when such titles meant something. Nowadays, fairies were usually found dancing on tabletops at Santa’s Grotto, wearing too much makeup and too little clothing. Those fairies who were lucky enough—not to mention pretty and daring enough—managed to get positions taking care of the Rein Dears.

Now there was a position that had it all. Being a Rein Dear that is, not one of their fairies. It was no secret that some of the Rein Dears went through fairies the way Kringle went through cookies. Rumor had it the Rein Dears used their helpers for more than just helping, but no one dared challenge that. The Rein Dears were Mayor Kringle’s glamorous flyboys. They travelled the globe, delivering presents on Christmas Eve. If you were a Rein Dear, wherever you went, everyone loved you and worshipped you. Even the Mouse King and his hoods respected the Rein Dears. They were like shining stars. And Rudy….

Tim let out a wistful sigh. Rudy was the Squadron Leader, and the most handsome of them all. Big, strong, and in possession of the most amazing red hair anyone had ever seen. Boy, what Tim wouldn’t give to get caught under the mistletoe with him! He was also the only Rein Dear who didn’t have his own sugarplum fairy. No one knew why. There always seemed to be one or two hanging off his arm, but the pilot just didn’t seem interested in keeping any of them around. Either way, Tim kept his silly crush to himself. Even if he were special enough to be a Rein Dear’s helper, he wasn’t a sugarplum fairy and, therefore, not in possession of the correct enchanted chromosomes. Not to mention, he didn’t have much experience when it came to certain types of “helping.” He couldn’t even recall the last time he had been out on a date.

A bell jingled noisily over his head, giving him such a start he lost his balance and toppled backward with the most embarrassing yelp. No amount of flailing kept him from hitting the floor with a painful thud. Could this night possibly get any worse? At least no one had been around to laugh at him. Then he remembered what the bell was for.

“Plum pudding! The coal!” He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his jacket and flat cap before running as fast as he could down the silver marble corridor and out into the stairwell. By the time he reached the boiler room, the delivery driver was tapping his clipboard impatiently.

“I’m here!” Tim called out from across the expansive warehouse as he caught up to the driver. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed, attempting to catch his breath. He really needed to cut back on the gumdrops.

“Sign on the dotted line.” The disgruntled elf thrust the clipboard at Tim, who swiftly did as asked. When Tim looked up at the back of the truck, his eyes went wide.

“Why isn’t it in bags?”

Snatching the clipboard from Tim, the driver didn’t so much as glance at him as he filled out a copy of the receipt. “You didn’t order no bags.”

Tim did his best not to panic. “It’s always ordered in bags. How am I supposed to—”

Before another word could be uttered, the stocky elf jerked a lever and the truck’s back door slammed open. Tim managed to jump out of the way in the nick of time, and stood speechless as the coal came barreling out, engulfing him in a cloud of black soot that sent him into a fit of coughing.

Tim waved his arms frantically, hearing the sound of the truck’s engine rumble somewhere in the haze. “Wait!”

It was no use. By the time the dust settled, the truck was gone, and Tim was left buried almost knee deep in a sea of coal. Picking up the receipt lying to one side, he scanned it for whoever was responsible for the order.

Noel. He had done it on purpose.

Tim sat down on the black lumps and bit his bottom lip, refusing to let any of his tears escape. That blasted Noel. What had Tim ever done to deserve this? He tried to think back, desperately searching for a time in which he might have mistakenly offended the supervising elf. Nothing came to mind. Tim had always been friendly with his coworkers, and worked very hard. In fact, despite Noel’s abrasive demeanor, Tim had always remained friendly toward him, hoping that Noel would see Tim held no grudges and merely wanted to get along. On several occasions, he had even offered Noel some of his cookies as a peace offering. That only seemed to annoy Noel even more.

Tired of feeling so pitiful, Tim got to his feet and shuffled over to the rack of shovels. Grabbing the biggest one he could lift, he started the arduous task of carrying the coal over to one of the empty containers on the other side of the gargantuan furnace. By the time he was done, his entire body ached, and it was very late.

Walking into the employee washroom, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a little lump of coal, covered in soot from head to toe. As best he could, he scrubbed himself, thinking about getting home to a nice warm bath and letting the evidence of this rotten day wash away.

After managing to get most of the grime off his face, neck, and hands, he removed his deep green vest, red tie, and what had once been a white shirt, staying only in his deep green knickerbockers and white undershirt. His white and red striped socks were ruined, as was the rest of his suit. That left him with only two suits. He had started the year out with four. Darn it. He just couldn’t afford to have any more ruined. He had already spent most of this week’s wages on his rent and the rest was for his meals. Well, he supposed he could get by on chocolate sandwiches if he had to, and he still had the cinnamon swirl truffles Mrs. Kringle had given him two weeks ago. Maybe he should think about a transfer, but was he really going to give Noel the satisfaction?

Not wanting to think any more on the matter, he dusted his pants off, grateful he had left his jacket with his hat. At least he wouldn’t have to freeze on the way home. Having lived his whole life in North Pole City, cold didn’t bother him, so going out in the snow in a suit was fine, but going out in just your undershirt was a different matter. The last thing he needed was to catch a cold. Of course, there was nothing he could do about the state of his socks, so he would have to wear them as they were until he got home.

He slipped into his jacket and secured his cap on his head before going out through the back of the warehouse. It was nippy out, but not too unbearable. His thoughts filled with images of himself sitting cozily in front of the fire with a hot cup of his favorite cocoa.

Tim was so lost in thought while taking his usual shortcut through Caramel Corn Lane, he didn’t hear the low voices until it was too late. Three elves stood in the shadows, and for a moment, Tim’s pulse shot up. Then he realized they were toy soldiers. Phew. Well, two of them were. The other was—

He nearly let out a gasp but clamped a hand over his mouth just in time. The third elf was one of the Mouse King’s hoodlums, and he was handing over a parcel wrapped in brown paper to the taller of the toy soldiers.

“Here’s what the Mouse King promised. Now it’s your turn to hold up your end of the deal. When Jack Frost shows up at the Silver Bells Christmas Ball tomorrow night, you know what to do. I’ll be there to make sure it gets done. I don’t think I need to stress how important it is to the Mouse King that you succeed.”

The taller of the toy soldiers stuffed the packet into his red overcoat. “Yeah, we got it. We’ll take care of ’im.”

Jack Frost? Why would the toy soldiers want to hurt him? He was their chief, and the Frost King’s son. Surely, they wouldn’t….

This was bad. He shouldn’t be here. Tim took a quick step back and bumped into something hard, and when he turned around, he was stunned to find Noel there.

“What are you doing here?”

Noel grabbed his arm and pushed him roughly up against the wall. “I came to make sure you didn’t screw up the coal delivery. What mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“You mean besides the one you created for me?” Tim jerked his arm out of Noel’s grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

Noel was clearly ready to chastise him, but Tim had no intention of sticking around. Whatever reprimand Noel had for him, it could wait until Tim was on the clock. He tried to get around Noel, who stubbornly tried to block his path, and in the process knocked over a trashcan. It crashed noisily to the ground, echoing all around them and bringing the three elves spinning toward them, their hands snapping to their coats. Holy Holly, they were going to shoot! Apparently this night could get worse.

The Heart of Frost #2
Chapter One

“ARE YOU determined to ruin the name of this family beyond repair?”

Jack remained stoically in the center of the small, empty ballroom as his father paced slowly from one side to the other, the train of his fur-lined blue-and-silver paisley robe polishing the already gleaming marble floor. Jack’s uncle and twin cousins stood to one side, pretending for all the world they couldn’t hear Jack being reprimanded like some fledgling elf. A faint rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” floated in through the closed doors from the main ballroom. Now there was a thought. Rest. As in, he wished his father would give it a rest.

“It’s a party, father. Society dictates I should bring a guest, and I have.”

“Yes, but not that guest.”

“I wasn’t about to bring anyone else. For Kringle’s sake, am I no longer allowed to have any fun at all?”

His father rounded on him, pitch-black eyes shining dangerously. “Fun? Is that all that matters to you these days?”

Jack couldn’t help his surprise. “I’m sorry? Have you been paying the slightest bit of attention to the last two years? I’ve worked myself to the bone building a case against the Mouse King, doing everything within my power to put him away once and for all. Not to mention attend to the rest of my duties, and you’re dismissing everything over one party?”

“Don’t you take that tone with me—I won’t allow it.”

“Pray tell, what will you allow?” Jack narrowed his gaze as his father continued to pace. Then it struck him. He should have known. Wasn’t it always what these petty arguments came down to? “This has nothing to do with the party. This is about him, isn’t it?”

“It would have been better if he had left you be.”

“Left me a monster you mean. Is that what you want? A weapon instead of a son?”

His father stopped pacing, but he neither confirmed nor denied Jack’s words, bringing a lump to his throat. It’s true, his father had never shown him the same manner of affection his mother had, but could he truly have preferred Jack’s life not been spared? The thought cut deep. “Well forgive me for having a heart and daring to put it to use. Just because you’re incomplete doesn’t mean I should have to live my life the same way.”

The sharp sting left across his cheek after his father struck him wasn’t completely unexpected, but the mixture of anger and hurt in his father’s expression was. What exactly did his father want from him, other than for him to give up the only thing that brought Jack any happiness in his cold and lonely existence? There was no sense in arguing.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“He is unworthy of you.”

Jack couldn’t help his anger or the way it swept through his body. The room drained of its color, leaving nothing but frosty white, due to his eyes doing the same. He could feel the bitter cold spread to the very tips of his toes and the strands of his now-white hair. “I’ll ask you to take care in how you speak of him. I love him and nothing you say will change that.”

“And if I made you choose?” To his father’s credit, it was more question than threat.

“He loves me wholeheartedly without prejudice or fear, and is in possession of a heart so pure he would melt the ice around my own. If you want to cast me out, then do it, because I won’t leave him. Nothing short of death will force me from his side. Do you really think I’d give him up for this?” he growled, gesturing to the ridiculous opulence of the exclusive club’s unused ballroom, one of many in yet another palace owned by his family.

“You youngsters are so bloody dramatic.”

“I’m not a child. I’m four hundred and fifty years old.”

His father scoffed at that. “Still a babe. I have lived since the beginning. You couldn’t begin to imagine the things I’ve seen.”

“And yet you want to deny me the one thing which means so little to you but the world to me. You’ve seen it all, and deep down, it isn’t even his being which upsets you, but the fact you believe he’s beneath me, beneath us and our great name.”

“You are the Jack Frost.” His father’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, father and son’s matching height allowing them to face one another eye to eye. “Your name is legend, and your power is unmatched. One day it shall surpass my own.”

“And when that day comes, I want him at my side, reminding me of my purpose, reminding me I have a soul. I’m more than the power I hold inside me.”

With a heavy sigh, the Frost King stepped away. “I see this conversation is getting us nowhere.”

“At least we agree on something.”

“Return to the ball. Try not to disgrace yourself, and take your cousins with you.”

Jack held his tongue and bowed before marching toward the door, his cousins following silently on his heels. Once he stepped foot out into the glittering ballroom filled with life and music, he felt marginally better, though his mood was still black as coal.

“Jack?” Hollis caught up to him, walking beside him to his left, while Vale flanked him on the right.

“Yes,” Jack grunted, making his way past the throngs of guests dressed in all their finery toward the red-carpeted, marble staircase leading to the second floor, where his private box accompanied the many others.

“The rumors about you leaving the toy soldiers aren’t true, are they?”

“You shouldn’t listen to gossip.” The night had barely begun and already he had been reprimanded by his father. Not even the melodic sounds of the chorus nor the merry echo of jingling bells was enough to buoy his spirits. Christmas was nearly upon them, and Jack was finding it more difficult than usual to feel jolly.

“But are they true?” Hollis insisted, his ice-gray eyes pleading.

Plum pudding. Jack had never been very good at denying his cousins. They were the only members of his entire family he actually liked. He had grown up alongside them, had played in the snow with them when they were all fledgling elves, teasing each other, seeing who could summon the strongest arctic winds. Of course, even when combining their powers, the twins weren’t nearly as strong as Jack, but he always encouraged them to strive for their best, and now look at them. Vale was Lieutenant in the Toy Soldier Army, and Hollis was a Major, both decorated and renowned for their bravery. Jack was very proud of them, and was never shy about expressing it.

“Jack?” Vale prodded gently.

“Not entirely,” Jack replied, unwilling to hide the truth from them. He reached the second floor, nodding a greeting to the prestigious occupants of the other private boxes who wandered out to sneak a peek at Jack and his entourage. Though he had to admit, he could see why they would be intrigued. Not by him. Kringle only knew why anyone would have any interest in seeing him, but his cousins were certainly a sight to behold. They were exceptionally handsome, with the pitch-black hair their family was renowned for. Where Jack and his father had black eyes, Hollis and Vale’s were a pale, foggy gray. They had chiseled jaws, pouting lips, and, in their ceremonial military uniforms, looked dashing.

“Jack, what will the other kingdoms think?” Hollis hissed quietly. He took hold of Jack’s arm and pulled him to a stop, his gaze one of concern.

“Do you mind? I have somewhere I need to be and it’s far more pleasant than standing around arguing nonsense with you. The other kingdoms will think whatever they like, regardless of what I do. It hardly concerns me either way.”

“How can it not concern you? We’re the strongest kingdom next to Alfeim, and you’re our prince. How are we supposed to keep our position if the Prince of Frost abandons his army to frolic in the snow with some Christmas elf? This is a dire situation, and you say it doesn’t concern you?”

“Watch your tone, Hollis. I won’t have my life dictated to me. I also have no intention of abandoning our army. I was simply considering stepping back from a few responsibilities by promoting other soldiers perfectly capable of doing the job.” He pulled his arm out of Hollis’ grip and marched off, finally approaching his private box.

“All for that… pilot?”

Jack pulled aside the red velvet curtain, his heart beating fiercely at the sight before him.

“He has a name,” Jack said quietly, as his gaze met with the most radiant smile of them all. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

Rudy stood to face him. A more beautiful creature Jack had never known. “You know I would wait for you however long necessary.” His pale-blue eyes shone lovingly in the warm glow of the crystal chandelier hanging above their heads. He was stunning in his red-and-gold frock coat, waistcoat, and breeches. A white cravat was tied elegantly around his slender neck, and his waistcoat accentuated his slim waist, concealing what Jack knew to be a beautifully toned, muscular physique.

Spinning on his heel, Jack gave the twins a gentle shove out of the box. “Get out.”

“Jack,” Rudy scolded playfully. “Manners.” He walked over to Hollis and Vale, offering a friendly smile. “Fellas.”

The twins bowed politely, Vale smiling brightly while Hollis frowned.

“All right,” Jack prompted, giving his cousins a wave. “Now get out. I’ll see you two at the Palace Courts promptly at ten tomorrow morning.” Without another word, he closed the curtain on them. He turned to Rudy with a thoughtful tilt to his head. “Was that rude?”

Rudy chuckled. “Do you care?”

“No.” Jack closed the distance between them in one step, his arms drawing Rudy against him as he crushed their mouths together in an ardent kiss. It was only after he was forced to come up for air that he realized he hadn’t checked that the outer curtain was drawn. The lack of scandalized gasps told him they had privacy. Rudy looked up at him, that starry gaze he held only for Jack reminding him of how lucky he was.

“We should probably open the curtain now,” Rudy suggested, sounding somewhat reluctant, not to mention out of breath. His cheeks were flushed, but the color couldn’t compare to the fiery crimson of his hair. No one in the whole of the North Pole had hair as stunning or as red as Rudy’s. He was handsome, an ace pilot, smelled wonderfully of cinnamon, and most importantly, he was all Jack’s.

“All right.” Jack took a deep breath and came to stand at the front of the gilded marble balcony while Rudy took position at his side. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Rudy replied, his fingers discreetly lacing with Jack’s gloved ones.

Straightening to his full height, Jack summoned a gust of wind that parted the red velvet curtain before them, revealing the impressive sight of the crowded ballroom beneath them, everything a flurry of white and gold. Applause erupted from the guests attending this year’s Silver Bells Christmas Ball, though he imagined a good deal of them did so because they felt they had no choice. Whether they loved him or loathed him, there was no one in the kingdom who didn’t fear him. Jack felt fingers tighten around his own and he couldn’t help his smile. Well, perhaps there was one.

Jack held on to Rudy’s hand, joining him in waving to the crowd. No matter how anyone felt about his love for the Christmas elf, Jack had no intention of letting Rudy go, and anyone who threatened what he had would come to know true fear. That he guaranteed.

The Valor of Vixen #3

Chapter One

THE BELL above the door jingled, and Vixen let out a sigh. Showtime.

With a broad smile, he left his comfy spot by the window where he’d been watching the snow fall and made for the bar as the White Hart erupted into laughter and chatter. He took a seat on one of the red-and-gold stools, smiling while his Rein Dear brothers flooded in and crowded him. Dasher—the eldest and more brash of their Rein Dear brothers—threw an arm around Vixen’s shoulders and took it upon himself to order enough drinks to get the entire Toy Soldier army merry. He pushed a peppermint julep in front of Vixen and gave him a hearty pat on the back.

“Drink up. One more day until the test runs start.”

Vixen took his peppermint julep and swallowed it in two gulps. One more day of fun before he was meant to be on his best behavior. So many silly rules. Not that Vixen ever followed many.

“Hey there.” A pretty toy soldier in a bright red uniform with gleaming gold buttons and shiny black boots leaned on the bar beside Vixen. He had a smooth jaw and deep, dark eyes.

“Well hello,” Vixen purred. He raked his gaze over the dark-haired elf. Promising. Very promising.

“You must be Vixen. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Vixen gave the toy soldier a wink. “Only the scandalous parts are true. How about buying a fella a drink?”

The toy soldier laughed, showing a row of perfect white teeth. He signaled over one of the waiters, and Vixen ordered another peppermint julep. With a broad smile, the toy soldier took Vixen’s hand in his and put it to his lips for a kiss. “Officer Fern. At your service.”

Well. Well. Well. Vixen leaned in with a sultry smile. “And just what kind of services might you be offering, Officer Fern?” A lustful look came into the elf’s dark eyes.

“That depends on what you need.”

A tingle went up Vixen’s spine, and he licked his bottom lip. Oh, how he liked a naughty soldier. Vixen opened his mouth only to have Rudy wedge himself in between them. His infuriating friend dropped down onto the stool between Vixen and the handsome—not to mention willing—toy soldier. With that big grin of his at full force, Rudy turned to the toy soldier.

“Do excuse me, Officer. I’m afraid I have some urgent business matters to discuss with my Rein Dear brother. Perhaps you can catch up with him in, oh, let’s say three weeks?”

Officer Fern looked somewhat puzzled before nodding and silently walking off. Vixen was fuming. He opened his mouth, and once again, Rudy cut him off with a quiet hiss.

“Plum pudding, Vixen. Another toy soldier?”

Vixen shrugged off his friend’s disapproval. “What can I say? I have a weakness for elves in uniform.”

“It’s three weeks until the Big Flight. I need you to stay out of trouble.” Rudy put a hand to Vixen’s shoulder. “Please, Vixen. Must we go through this every year? It’s as if the closer we get to the Big Flight, the more reckless you become.”

Vixen removed Rudy’s hand with a sniff, annoyed at his friend’s accusation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. In fact, last time I checked, it was your frosty beau who had put the Big Flight in danger. What would we have done if Kringle hadn’t healed you?”

Almost a year ago Jack Frost had nearly lost his heart to the ice after Rudy’s plane had been sabotaged, leaving Rudy injured. Healed by Mayor Kringle, Rudy had been determined to save Jack and in the process discovered a hidden power within himself, one that summoned fire and warmth. Either way, it was just another thing Rudy possessed that Vixen didn’t. Bah humbug. He worked just as hard as Rudy. Sort of. Maybe not as hard as Rudy, but he worked hard. So what if Vixen liked to enjoy himself when he wasn’t being the darling of North Pole City along with his brethren?

Rudy’s pale blue eyes filled with hurt and frustration, but Vixen refused to give in, knowing he was right. “You know very well that wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Jack’s either. You can hardly compare what happened then to the reckless festivities you get up to mere weeks before we fly out. It’s getting worse. I do wish you would confide in me.”

“There’s nothing to confide,” Vixen replied irritably. “Have you thought perhaps I’m not being more reckless but that you’re becoming more of a stick-in-the-mud? He’s going to turn you into a grump like him.”

“Nonsense. The year before last, you almost overslept because you’d been out getting merry all day with that toy soldier you’d met only two days before. Then there was the year we had to make an emergency landing because you forgot to refuel your biplane. Why? Because you were too busy flirting with a toy soldier. And what about the year I found you mere hours before the Big Flight naked in your biplane with a toy soldier? This has to end, Vixen.”

“What has to end? My fun? Why must you always put a damper on my festivities?” Not a year went by where Rudy didn’t harp on about Vixen’s behavior. If he did tend to partake in certain festivities a little more the closer it got to the Big Flight, then it was due to the amount of pressure the event placed on him. Surely, of all elves, Rudy understood. The whole world was counting on them. The happiness of millions. That was a lot of responsibility to place on an elf’s shoulders.

Rudy’s expression softened and his tone along with it. “I’m trying to keep you from getting kicked off the squadron. You’re my best friend, Vixen. Please. You have to know it’s because I care.”

Vixen felt somewhat guilty, though he didn’t know what for. He didn’t want his friend getting so upset or worried, but Vixen wasn’t doing anything wrong, merely having a little fun. When had that become such a terrible act?

“What about Lieutenant Vale?”

The question caught Vixen by surprise. “What about him?” He finished his drink and ordered another. Yum. His favorite. Mistletoe Martini with plenty of kick. If only his best friend would have a drink—or several—and loosen up a little.

“You seemed interested in him a few months ago.”

Vixen took several sips of his fruity drink, feeling marginally better. “Sure, he’s quite handsome, but he’s too timid and quiet.” After the incident, he hadn’t given the lieutenant much thought. He was a member of the Frost family, and everyone knew what pleasant personalities they all had. Vale did seem to be less ill-tempered than his brother Hollis and cousin Jack, but he was still somewhat of a wallflower.

Rudy let out a huff as he declined Vixen’s offer of a sip from his drink. “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“A chance for what? True love?” Vixen frowned. “Not everyone is looking to get their wings clipped, Rudy.” His friend’s face turned nearly as red as his hair. It was quite the sight. Rudy was renowned for his red hair. It was the reddest and brightest in the kingdom. Personally, Vixen thought it made his friend’s head look like it was on fire. Vixen was quite happy with his own tamer caramel-colored locks.

“For Kringle’s sake, if that’s what you believe love is, then you know nothing about it.”

“Maybe, but I know how to have a fabulous time. And this exchange is anything but.” Vixen finished his drink and, with a smile, held his hand up for another.

“Fine. Have it your way. But I’m begging you. Take things slow.” Rudy looked as if he wanted to say more but instead walked off. A moment later, Dasher took his place.

“Crabapples. What crawled up his stocking?”

“Most likely Jack Frost,” Vixen muttered. Dasher stared at him before bursting into laughter. Vixen found himself giggling along. A few more drinks, and he would be well on his way to being merry, which was just what he needed. He was here to have fun, for Kringle’s sake. “Was that mean of me? He’s my best friend. And our captain.”

Dasher waved a hand in dismissal. “You know Rudy. Always so responsible.”

The bell above the door jingled somewhere behind Vixen, and Dasher gave his shoulder a nudge.

“Look who it is.”

Vixen turned in time to see Jack and the Frost twins walk through the door. He had to admit it was quite a sight. Jack was at the front dressed in his regal black uniform, the expanse of his chest impressive. Silver braiding adorned the jacket of his uniform as well as the white-furred pelisse hanging off one shoulder. More of the same braiding was on the red cuffs of his sleeves and stiff red collar. The twins wore similar uniforms but with gold braiding instead of silver. Lieutenant Vale certainly cut a fine figure in his royal uniform. His Hessian boots were shined and spotless. His black trousers and matching jacket were pristine. Gold braiding adorned the front of the jacket along with the sleeve cuffs and high collar. A black-furred pelisse hung off one shoulder, the gold braiding matching the rest of the uniform. He and his twin weren’t as tall as Jack but no less imposing. His pitch-black hair was neatly parted, his silvery-gray eyes, sparkling. He had a full mouth and a chiseled jaw, and when he noticed Vixen eyeing him, his cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

“What I wouldn’t give for a romp in the snow with the twins,” Dasher murmured over the rim of his glass.

Cupid came to stand beside them, some pink fruit concoction in his glass. “Well, you’re out of luck with Major Hollis. He’s not into elves. Plus he’s not very friendly.”

“I can be very persuasive. And his disposition is hardly my reason for wanting to jingle his bells.”

“Dasher!” Cupid’s cheeks flushed bright red as he fidgeted uncomfortably where he stood. Their smallest Rein Dear brother was easily scandalized. Then again, Cupid was the only Rein Dear who was part winter faery—and he looked it, too, with his wispy blond hair falling over his brow, his rosy complexion, pouty lips, and soft features. Blitzen—who was the complete opposite of Cupid in every way, from his large stature to his somber expression—gave them a disapproving glare from over Dasher’s shoulder. Holy holly, he was just as much a stick-in-the-mud as Rudy.

Cupid quickly recovered and leaned forward, his pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ve heard Lieutenant Vale has a crush on a certain someone.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag—” Vixen was swiftly cut off by Dasher. Why would no one let him speak this evening? He needed another drink. No, he needed to find Officer Fern.

“Humbug. You love to brag,” Dasher teased.

“Hush.” Vixen smoothed out his red-plaid waistcoat before replying, “All right, so the lieutenant may have a crush on me.”

“And?”

“You know I have my heart set on a prince.” Vixen had never told Rudy because he knew his friend would only give him a disapproving frown, undoubtedly accompanied by another lecture. Ever since Vixen had been a tiny elfling, he’d dreamed of the day a prince would sweep him off to his castle, showering him with gifts and undying love. Then everyone would see how special Vixen was. He had been once, back when his parents had been warm and loving, doting on him. They’d adopted him when they discovered they couldn’t have elflings of their own. He’d been so happy. Everything he did had brought smiles to their faces. They’d clapped and cheered, given him hugs and kisses, told him how special and wonderful he was.

One day, a Christmas miracle happened. His parents had an elfling. A boy. After that, it was as if Vixen didn’t exist. Nothing he did would make them look at him the way they looked at their new elfling boy. They hadn’t been cruel to him, merely indifferent, which had felt just as terrible. Everything his brother did was always better. In their parents’ eyes, his brother could do no wrong. They’d given him everything that had once been Vixen’s, even his room.

He’d misbehaved to see if maybe then they would look at him, but it only made things worse. So when he was old enough to enter the Rein Dear Academy, Vixen ran away, lied and forged their signatures, believing if he became a Rein Dear for Mayor Kringle, they’d notice and be proud of him. They never bothered. Vixen felt the back of his eyes sting but pushed it away before anyone could notice. He worked so hard but never heard a word from them, so he’d decided to forget them. All he ever wanted was for them to love him as they once had. He’d show them. As soon as he found his prince, the world and his parents would know how wonderful and special he truly was.

“Well, the only prince in the kingdom is taken,” Cupid reminded him sweetly. “He also dislikes you. A great deal.”

“Frankly, Vale Frost is too good for you.”

Vixen gaped at Dasher. “That’s an awfully mean thing to say.” Not that Dasher had ever been one to mince words, but it still hurt to hear. This evening wasn’t going at all as planned. All he’d wanted was to get merry and perhaps join a toy soldier for a frolic or two. Dasher continued as if Vixen hadn’t spoken.

“Vale Frost is handsome, a lieutenant in the Toy Soldier army, and a member of the Frost family. I very much doubt an elf such as that is interested in one of your whirlwind love affairs. He’s part of the monarchy.”

Vixen turned in his stool to study the elf sitting over on a large davenport with Jack, Rudy, and Major Hollis. Vale Frost was very handsome indeed and only a few hundred years older than Vixen. He lived in a palace and was powerful. Not as powerful as Jack or the King of Frost, but he still wielded the powers of winter. For the love of holly, what was he thinking? He could certainly do a lot worse than Vale Frost. Vixen finished off his drink and stood. “You’re absolutely right, Dasher. Except for the being too good for me part. In fact, he’s just the sort of elf someone of my position should be courted by.”

“Uh-oh.” Dasher shook his head. “You have that look in your eyes.”

Blitzen let out a heavy sigh and sat back. “This is going to be nothing short of a disaster.”

“Thank you for the support,” Vixen muttered. He stood and headed for the tufted, red-velvet loveseat in front of the fireplace. On his way there, he caught Vale Frost’s eye and gave the elf his most charming, come-hither smile. Then he sat down, crossed one leg over the other and waited. Seconds later, a figure hovered to his right, and Vixen held back a smile.

“May I join you?”

Vixen looked up and blinked innocently, as if he hadn’t been expecting anyone. “Of course.”

As Lieutenant Vale walked over to sit, Vixen discreetly nudged over, so when Vale sat, they were almost touching. With a timid smile, Vale cleared his throat and faced Vixen.

“It’s lovely to see you again.”

Vixen leaned in a little closer. “Likewise, darling. Where have you been hiding yourself?” He gingerly reached out and smoothed out Vale’s pelisse, amused at the subtle fidget from the heroic lieutenant.

“Hiding?”

“Yes.” Vixen jutted out his bottom lip and stroked the fur of the pelisse. “I haven’t seen much of you around since that day in the field when your cousin had his little temper tantrum.”

Vale cleared his throat once again and absently fiddled with the braiding in his jacket. “Oh, well, I thought you were interested, but then I saw very little of you. I assumed you’d had second thoughts.”

“Don’t be silly. I had the Big Flight and then the celebrations that came after, plus all the post-flight procedures, the preparations for the next flight, the appearances, the charity events, the interviews, and so on. You know being a Rein Dear is very demanding.” His hand came to rest on Vale’s leg, and Vixen did his best not to laugh at the way the elf’s eyes widened.

“Um, yes, of course. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“That’s all right. How about you make it up to me?” Vixen said, his tone low and sultry as he ran a finger up Vale’s leg.

“Would you… would you join me on a sleigh ride sometime?”

Well, Vixen certainly hadn’t been expecting that. How very… quaint. Admittedly, he’d been hoping the lieutenant would have offered something a little more glamorous, but if a sleigh ride is what it took for Vixen to capture his quarry, then…. “I’d love to. How about you pick me up tomorrow after my test flight at the Claus Causeway?”

“I’ll be there,” Vale replied with a broad smile.

“In the meantime, how about you offer a thirsty elf a drink?”

“Oh!” Vale blinked and jumped to his feet so quickly, he gave Vixen a start. “How very rude of me. Of course. What can I get you?”

“Something bubbly.” Vixen gave him a wink and was forced to bite down on his bottom lip as Vale backed up and turned, colliding with the loveseat’s armrest. Embarrassed, he motioned awkwardly to the seat.

“I didn’t see it. Excuse me.” With a bow, he quickly strode off toward the bar. Dasher’s voice whispered hoarsely in his ear.

“He’s adorable.”

Vixen looked up at his Rein Dear brother and gave him a wicked grin. “He’s completely smitten. Just you wait. By the time the Big Flight comes around, I’ll have him wrapped around my finger.” He could just see the headlines now. For once, he’d be on the front page instead of Rudy. Finally, he was about to get what he’d always wanted.

Author Bio:
Charlie Cochet is an author by day and artist by night. Always quick to succumb to the whispers of her wayward muse, no star is out of reach when following her passion. From adventurous agents and sexy shifters, to society gentlemen and hardboiled detectives, there’s bound to be plenty of mischief for her heroes to find themselves in, and plenty of romance, too!

Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found reading, drawing, or watching movies. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.

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Mending Noel #1

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The Heart of Frost #2

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The Valor of Vixen #3(Coming December 2, 2019)

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