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Summary:
November Book of the Month
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.
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Summary:
Single Dads #3
Leo Byrne is a cop, Jason Banks is an ex-con. Even after one stolen kiss, something has to give before Leo can convince Jason that falling in love is even an option.
Adopted at a young age, Leo is part of the sprawling Byrnes family. With his dog Cap, three siblings and a whole mess of nieces and nephews, he is never lonely, and his life is full. Love is the last item on his to-do list, but seeing his best friends Sean and Eric happy and making new families makes him want things he doesn’t think is possible. Kissing Jason at an event to honor his bravery was one thing, but anything other than that is off limits. Until Jason has no one left to turn to, and it’s Leo who helps him at his lowest. Taking Jason and his daughter into his home is one thing, but falling for the ex-con is something else altogether.
Jason made a deal to keep his daughter safe and spent years behind bars as a result. Volunteering as a convict firefighter was as much about helping the community as saving his sanity, but now that he’s out, he doesn’t even have that. He’s lost his future, his self-respect, and has no friends or a place to call home. Worst of all, even after rescuing his daughter he still can’t keep her safe from the man who wants to use her as a bargaining chip for money. Meeting Leo might give Jason a way to keep Daisy safe, but falling for the stubborn cop means the truth has to be revealed, and he could lose everything all over again.
First off, I've said it before and I'll say it again: men who care for children are some are the sexiest around and tick all my boxes. We first met Leo back in Single and we were introduced to Jason in Today, well now it's Promise and we get to experience their journey. Cop and ex-con, cliche it may sound but that doesn't mean it can't be magical when written well and RJ Scott definitely tells their story well.
I won't say too much about Leo, he's the kind of cop we all hope to meet if we are unfortunate enough to need a cop: he's kindhearted but not a pushover and though he's all about doing his job he's not so set in stone that he won't listen. Yes, he's on injured leave during the story but we've seen this side of him throughout the series so even on leave we know this about him.
Jason, well what can one say about Jason? Not everything is as it seems. I know that sounds cryptic but there are certain elements of his story that I don't want to spoil, that you really do need to learn for yourself. Watching him care for little Daisy(who BTW is the most adorable little girl) is wonderfully written and says so much about his character. Yes, there are things that he's trying desperately to protect her from and when all is revealed you completely understand his behavior and choices.
I loved watching Leo and Sean balance their duty and their gut when it came to trusting Jason and doing what's best for him and Daisy. This was another excellent example of why Leo is the cop I described above. There is just so much heart in this story(in the Single Dads series as whole really) that at times it may seem cliche but just because something is cliche doesn't mean it isn't entertaining. Promise is a gem of read that will make you smile, cry, laugh, and smile some more and I look forward to re-visiting for years to come.
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Summary:
Ace's Wild #10
After thirteen years together, Malcolm and Embry are all too familiar with their differences. Malcolm is free-spirited and spontaneous while Embry prefers having everything planned out.
A road trip to spend Thanksgiving with Embry’s family is met with a broken-down car, an unfamiliar town filled with amazing people, and one very interesting store that leads to a bet which could change their lives forever.
This year, Malcolm and Embry share a Thanksgiving like no other and discover that, even though they’ve been together for thirteen years, it’s never too late for some new tricks.
New Tricks is part of a multi-author series of books that take place in the same fictional town. Each story can be read in any order. The connecting element in the Ace's Wild series is an adult store owned by Ace and Wilder. The main characters from each book will make at least one visit to Ace's Wild, where they'll buy a toy to use in their story! The only characters who crossover to each book are Ace and Wilder. And with various heat levels, there's sure to be something for everyone!
I didn't think I would get to this novella until well into December but then when I was looking back at a book request post I made in a Facebook book rec group for Thanksgiving stories I saw that the author had did a little self reccing about an upcoming Turkey Day story she had. Well, I realized that there are far too few Turkey Day books out there that I knew I had to read New Tricks for my Tales of Turkey Day 2019 post. So I did a little tweaking of my holiday reading "schedule" and jumped in. I read Davidson King's entry for the Ace's Wild multi-author series in 90 minutes(give or take a little) and loved every second of it.
For those unfamiliar with the Ace's Wild series, the connecting theme is an adult store named Ace's Wild owned and operated by couple, Ace and Wilder, and can be read in any order as the only recurring point is the main characters visiting the store itself. New Tricks is book 10 and actually the first I read but it won't be the last.
I think there is a certain stigma associated with adult stores and that is everyone who goes in has a certain level of hard kinks. Now as I said this is the first of the Ace's Wild series I read so I can't speak to other entries but one of the things I loved most about New Tricks was the author was exploring the "softer" side of kinks. Malcolm and Embry might have walked into the store thinking they were reasonably vanilla in their sex life but by the end of the book they realized that a little spice was more their way. Maybe I'm just babbling but in my reading experience so many stories are either vanilla or hardcore and the "in-between" kinks get neglected so for that alone I offer a huge applause to Miss King👏👏👏.
Now let's talk Malcolm and Embry. I loved the whole setup of the pair being in a longterm committed relationship when the story begins, too often in holiday stories its the magic of the season that brings people together, so this was another plus. I just want to wrap Embry up in bubblewrap to protect him from his family. Don't even get me started on that Thanksgiving Dinner(at least his family's part). Sometimes strangers have the best way of getting to the point and making one see their mistakes through clearer eyes and thankfully Malcolm and Embry have broken down in a town with the kindest strangers around. I won't say more but I'll just add that there are those in the story(and I think you can guess who they are😉) I wanted to strangle and then there are those that I wanted to Mama Bear hug so tight and never let go.
New Tricks may not be the super-duper-uber-Hallmark-y sugary sweet holiday romance but it ticked all my holiday feels boxes. Whether you call it fate, destiny, powers-that-be, or a dozen other metaphors, Malcolm and Embry ended up in Vintage Ridge at just the right time in life.
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Summary:
Snow & Winter #4
It’s been a full year since the mystery that brought antique shop owner and part-time amateur sleuth Sebastian Snow together with NYPD homicide detective Calvin Winter. Patience, sanity, and their very lives have been put to the test, but love has persevered. Although Sebastian is now New York City’s best-known busybody, he’s done solving crimes and wants nothing more than to plan a romantic budget wedding.
Then Snow’s Antique Emporium receives a decapitated human head in the mail and the holidays are gory once again. Sebastian patently disregards the mystery of a lifetime because he is done with death and danger—but the killer escalates. Before Sebastian knows it, his closest friends and family are dragged into a series of horrific murders with antiquated clues hinting to the infamous Victorian American Bones Wars.
The clock is ticking to recover a long-lost artifact linked to paleontologist Edward Drinker Cope and to capture a murderer. But it’s not Sebastian who may become the next target—it’s Calvin.
I was kind of late to the party last year when I first stumbled upon Snow & Winter but I loved it immediately, the blending of contemporary, history, humor, murder, and of course romance made the whole thing just an all around bundle of joy. Well the newest series entry, The Mystery of the Bones is no less brilliant. And, as an added plus it's been a year from the setting of the first entry, The Mystery of Nevermore, so that means it's Christmastime(or nearly) which puts this in my holiday shelf as well(nothing like murder and mayhem to add to the holiday cheer I always say😉).
In Bones we see Snow and Winter nearing their one year anniversary of meeting and once again a suspicious smell get's Sebastian's employee and friend, Max, questioning its origin. Funny enough a package has just arrived and when opened they find the smell and a head, that's right I said a head, and the hunt for answers begins. I love how Snow, well perhaps "learned his lesson" in regards to sleuthing is a bit inaccurate he has learned there is a difference between nosiness and sleuthing. HOWEVER, this time around he's pulled into the sleuthing by those who have warned him against it in the past.
I won't say more to the plot because I don't do spoilers and frankly it is just too darn delicious not to discover the story yourself.
Calvin and Snow are happily if not frustratingly planning a wedding and try as Snow does to stick to it circumstances have other plans. There's no doubt of their love for each other but what I enjoyed in Bones was the push and pull, snarky friendships Snow has come into with his ex, Neil and Calvin's partner, Quinn. Those sniping scenes just round out the romantic suspense of The Mystery of the Bones to create an entertaining journey from beginning to end. The fact that I can add it to my holiday shelf just an added bonus that makes it all the better.
I can't wait to see what danger Snow and Winter find themselves in next.
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Summary:
Arizona Raptors #2
The greatest journey isn’t from England to the States, it’s the one that two men take on the way to find each other.
Sebastian Brown is on a mission to rescue the Arizona Raptors and a vow he made to a friend in college. Either that or he’s on vacation. He’s not entirely sure that he’s made up his mind yet. Either way, traveling from England, to the arid desert of Arizona isn’t exactly a picnic, particularly with the doubts and worries he takes with him. He’s turned even the worst of companies around, but faced with the challenge of improving the reputation of a hockey team that everyone seems to hate, he knows his work is cut out for him.
Focus is key, but that is easier said than done when Seb is sent into a tailspin by the intriguing Alejandro. Seb’s entire marketing plan hinges on making Alex a poster boy for equality and fair play. But with Alex’s utter dedication to the game, and his dark secretive eyes, the gorgeous Alex is stubborn, opinionated, doesn’t want any part of being the team focus, and worst of all, doesn't appear to like Seb at all. It takes everything that Seb has to keep his hands off of Alex, but things get out of hand and Seb’s life might never be the same again.
Alejandro Garcia has had to work hard to get where he’s at. Born to Mexican immigrants, his siblings and himself have never had it easy in this new country their parents dreamed of calling home. A native son of Arizona, Alex has always been the odd man out on the ice but he’s not going to let a stupid thing like his heritage get in the way of his dreams. He’s now a Raptor and he plans to put all that training and collegiate hockey experience to good use. Working hard comes naturally to him. It’s something his parents have instilled in him from the time he was a toddler. Being one of a handful of Latino hockey players makes him strive for success with even more determination. His first pro season has had some ups but a lot more downs, but Alex is one stubborn young man and failure is not an option.
As the Raptors struggle to rebuild not only their team but their core values, Alex finds himself drawn to one of the owner’s friends, a tall, lanky Brit with the face of an angel and an accent and attitude that bewitches and befuddles him. Sebastian is everything he thought he would never be attracted to but he can’t push the sexy, older, fun-loving man out of his thoughts. If ever there were a man he would not be able to take home to his parents - not that he can bring a man home since he is deeply closeted - it’s Sebastian, but desire knows no socioeconomic, age, or international borders. The heart wants what the heart wants and Alejandro’s wants Sebastian.
I don't know just what Sebastian Brown's official occupation title is(perhaps I just missed it😉), social media expert extraordinaire, PR, image consultant, whatever the official wordage is, the Raptors are in desperate need of his services. Personally, I'm still in complete awe of Scott & Locey being able to showcase a team that came from such horrible history in their Harrisburg Railers series and make them the "heroes" of their own series, for me that is just another example of not only their individual talents but also their storytelling chemistry.
Alejandro Garcia, Alex, is a man twisted inside over who he lets his family see, who he lets his teammates see, who he lets the Raptors fans see, and who he really is. The fight to keep them separate and all in their place is beginning to take its toll on him and his playing. Meeting Seb only stirs the inner pot but maybe he's actually the right ingredient that's been missing to make it all come together? For that you have to read for yourself and trust me you won't be disappointed.
One thing I loved and it is a minor point, only a few scenes really but they stood out for me and that is the connection between Seb and Jason, co-owner of the team who brought Seb in to work his magic. We learn that Jason went to school for a time in England and that is how they met and it is the scenes that show Jason using British English and slang from his time there. Now I have never been to the UK but it is near the top of my bucket list but I have been watching British television shows and movies pretty much my whole life, first on the local PBS stations when I was little and then with the explosion of digital and streaming services, it's safe to say that 75% of what I watch is from across the pond(see what I did there😉😉). Even though I have never been there I often use British terminology so those Jason/Seb moments were an added bonus for me.
As for Alex's family, well a couple of them are complete and total gems that I just want to give them a huge Mama Bear hug and then there a few who I really just want to whack sense into them(and by "whack" I mean that quite literally) and then never speak to again. I really don't know how Seb can be so civil to them but that is probably more down to his occupation than anything else. I wish I could be more like Seb but my Irish/German/Dutch temper is more on the line of Alex so I have very little patience for people like those in his family I wanted to whack sense into.
On paper, Seb and Alex shouldn't work but once you get to know them there is no doubts whatsoever that they are a perfect fit. By "perfect" I don't mean all unicorns and roses. When I think of perfect fit in relationships I think of fighting and making up, arguing and hugging, or what I have recently come to label: snark and cuddle. Not to throw around cliche's but they really do complete each other. This isn't spoiling anything because Across the Pond isn't a question of HEA, the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs, the meat and potatoes of the story is in the journey getting from page one to the last.
One last note: if you are wondering about reading order I highly suggest reading Coast to Coast first. For the main purpose as to see how the friendships between Alex, Ryker, and Henri formed but also to see just what happened to Henri. For me, the Arizona Raptors(all of Scott & Locey's hockey series: Harrisburg Railers & Owatonna U) are all part of an ongoing saga where each entry is just that much better having known the previous ones. This is just my opinion because you won't be lost if you don't read in order of publication, the authors "recap" just enough to keep the reader "up to date".
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December Book of the Month
Williamsville Inn
Erik Josef is a forty-three-year-old, recently divorced businessman with one goal: wrap up his last project of the year so he can spend the holidays in Tahiti. All he wants is drinks on a beach, served to him by a woman in a bikini.
While waiting at an airport bar for his business partner to fly into Buffalo, New York, he encounters Seth Cobb, a chatty travel writer waiting for a flight to Pittsburgh to visit his family.
After a huge snowstorm grounds all flights, a mix-up at the Williamsville Inn leads to Erik and Seth sharing a room. Seth’s love of Christmas gets on Erik’s last nerve, but a mugful of Seth’s hot chocolate slowly melts Erik’s icy exterior.
When Erik realizes he’s attracted to Seth, he must choose between the life he’s always known, or a new adventure with a man a decade younger and a second chance at happiness.
Seth is adorable and Erik . . . well I warred between strangling him and smothering him a big Mama Bear hug. All kinds of holiday feels to get you in the spirit of the season.
Okay so that's a short review but honestly, it says everything that made me love Brigham Vaughn's Snowstorms and Second Chances. When I first met Erik, I kept thinking how am I suppose to cheer for this guy? Then fate intervenes and he actually got snippier and I wanted to smack him one but when fate raises elements to a new level and Erik finally takes a minute to breathe, you begin to see a softer side, a nicer side, and you realizes he is actually human underneath that holiday bah-humbugging gruff. I don't know that I could give him the chances that Seth does but I'm glad he did.
As a lifelong, born and raised Wisconsinite, I can tell you that snowstorms are unpredictable, they pop up with very little to no warning sometimes. Heck I remember more than once when the TV weather morons hype up wicked snow for a week and then the day of infamy arrives they claim weather patterns shift and went more North or stayed South only to find yourself buried in 20+" 24 hours later. Brigham Vaughn creates the setting as someone who knows snow. The weather may mostly be just a setup for getting the main characters in the same close proximity but when it can alter plans so drastically as it does in Snowstorms, Mother Nature becomes a character in itself. One of the things I loved(and yes I laughed and maybe even pointed and said "You had it coming, Erik") about Seth was his preparedness versus Erik's complete lack of readiness and nothing showed that more than in his choice(or lack thereof) of footwear. Again, a great element spoken most likely from experience.
Whether you believe in fate, the magic of the season, or right place right time the end result is the same: the snowstorm is the best thing to happen to Erik and Seth but will they let what they discover continue once Mother Nature lets up? I think you know what's coming: You'll have to read for yourself to find out. Trust me, you will love every minute spent at the Williamsville Inn.
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Summary:
Stealing Hearts #2
Some hearts are made to be mended.
Zac Alvarez never expected to start his life over at forty-five, but his recent divorce means doing just that. Luckily, his career as a nurse in Boston keeps him busy and he has friends who understand Zac’s need to be as careful with his heart as he is with his diet.
Acting on a whim one fall afternoon, Zac buys lunch from a food truck and meets Aiden Marinelli, a bold young chef who is taking the city’s food scene in new directions. Aiden is only thirty, a fact that doesn’t sit well with Zac, but both the chef and his food prove impossible to resist.
An attachment forms between the two men and, as the winter holidays draw near, Zac begins to emerge from the protective shell he’s built around himself. A chance encounter with his ex-husband shakes Zac’s newfound confidence, however, and he pushes Aiden away, unaware how deeply the act will hurt them both until it is too late.
Now, Zac must decide if he is brave enough to go after what he wants and mend not only Aiden’s heart but his own.
I just want to say that I want to wrap Zac up in layers of bubblewrap, two or three soft plushy blankets, and a huge Mama Bear hug until he sees that he is perfect as he is but then he wouldn't learn that through experience and sometimes we have to have the doubts run through our brains to make us see what's really important about ourselves. Aiden is just a delight. We all need an Aiden in our lives to keep us focused and positive. That's not to say Aiden doesn't have his moments of fear and doubts but his energy level and positive nature is awe inspiring.
Healing Hearts is about learning to open up and letting people in, that when a relationship ends life doesn't end then and there too. Zac was betrayed and heartbroken in one of the worst ways possible and when his husband left, doubt came knocking. The doubts and fears Zac have are entirely understandable and though some of us might think considering the situation he'd be "jumping back in" quicker but healing has no time limit so I completely got where Zac's head was at.
K Evan Coles has written another great holiday novella that makes you think, makes you smile, and makes you cheer for the friendship and possibly more between Zac and Aiden. Just the perfect blending of sweet, savory, and salty to make this a holiday gem not to be missed.
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Summary:
Owatonna U Hockey #4
Under the Christmas lights strung outside a snowy Minnesota cabin, Ryker and Jacob face a future where nothing will be the same again.
Fortunate timing means that Ryker and Jacob can spend a few days together over Christmas in a cabin on the family farm. What’s better is that Scott and Ben are coming as well, with Hayne and Ethan in tow. Ryker can’t imagine a better way to spend time with the man he loves, and the friends he misses, and somehow he knows that this Christmas will be the best one ever. Hockey on a frozen pond, kisses under Christmas lights, and sharing time with Jacob are the best gifts he could ever receive.
Long distance relationships are brutal, Jacob can attest to that fact. So, when Ryker gets a few days off over the Raptors’ Christmas break, the hard-working Minnesota farmer is beyond thrilled. When they find out that their buddies from Owatonna U. are making the trip as well, the holidays are looking to be just about perfect. Jacob has a question for Ryker burning in his heart, and he isn’t asking for much—just a few fun-filled days with old friends and a yes from the man of his dreams.
So much goodness that we've come to know in the world of Owatonna U, Harrisburg Railers, and Arizona Raptors and it's all wrapped up in a wonderful holiday package. Talk about a surprise gift from Santa!🎅
It's no secret that Ryker and Jacob was my favorite in the Owatonna U series and I'm so glad to see another chunk of their story continue on in more than just passing conversations throughout the Raptors series. As for Jacob, well what's not to love? Growing up a farmer's daughter I know how hard it is to keep things going in the wake of health issues and time. There comes a point that no matter how hard you work there may be only one option left, even knowing it's the only course of action doesn't make it any easier to accept. Luckily, Jacob has Ryker.
Now that's about all I'm going to say about Christmas Lights' plot. It's a holiday novella so there is minimal angst, tons of spirit, friends, family, and of course as the title suggests: Christmas lights. We get to see a little bit of the hockey that Scott & Locey's world is full of, we get to see Owatonna U returning favorites, but mostly we see Ryker and Jacob spend the holiday together at one of the most pivotal points in their life: the next big step. Will the holiday go as either plans? For that answer you'll have to read for yourself.
I know this isn't the last time we'll hear from Ryker or see Jacob and their friends, I'm sure they'll pop up in the authors' Arizona Raptors series but if it does happen to be the last time they "star" in a story, it's a wonderful holiday treat.
One last note: if you are wondering about reading order, well I highly recommend reading Rkyer(Owatonna U #1) definitely before Christmas Lights. Scott(#2) and Benoit(#3) are not necessarily a must before this holiday novella, there are a few scenes between the friends and their significant others that will mesh better knowing their respective journeys but it is not a must. To be honest though I can't imagine not having read the series in order but Ryker is probably the only must.
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Summary:
One lonely lawyer. Twelve blind dates. Finding his special someone will take a Christmas miracle.
Aiden would rather eat an entire fruitcake than face his ex and his ex’s new boyfriend at their company holiday party — especially by himself. So when his best friend suggests he find some arm candy, Aiden reluctantly agrees to a few blind dates.
Aiden doesn’t expect a dozen perfect matches, but one disastrous night after another is killing his Christmas spirit, and time is running out. There has to be a special guy out there Aiden can kiss under the mistletoe. Right?
The Twelve Dates of Christmas is a 31,000-word MM romance featuring five horny singles, four garlic cheese fries, three IPAs, two naked trees, and a jingle bell head injury. This feel-good story is filled with humor, heart, and a happy ever after perfect for the holidays.
This holiday story is an absolute delight - fun, sweet, romantic, snarky, friendship, humor, and the magic of the season. I've never read either author but after reading The Twelve Dates of Christmas I can honestly say I'll be keeping both on my radar.
I really don't have anything else to add because this is one of those stories where you really do have to experience the journey for yourself to fully appreciate all the humor that comes from a good-intention deed by Aiden's friend to find him that one special guy to accompany him to the office Christmas party. I will say I laughed many times and was left feeling brighter than when I started. Is Twelve Dates a feel-good story worth of what I call a Hallmark-y label? Better! No doubts, it is 100 times better! Bad dates, annoying best friend, ex moving on, a need to prove to said ex you're moving on too - these elements may sound like just another holiday cliche but the authors give it their own spin and what you have is nothing short of a win-win.
BTW: the quiz night date was my particular favorite and quite possibly gave me the biggest laugh while reading in a very long time.
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Summary:
Being called upon to pull Santa’s sleigh is an honour for any reindeer shifter, but for Dashiel the timing couldn’t be worse.
Stuart was looking forward to his Christmas Eve date with Dashiel, only to have him cancel at the last minute. He puts his disappointment aside and instead focuses on making his younger brother’s Christmas as wonderful as it can be, despite the loss of their parents the previous winter.
While flying over his home town, Dashiel spots a young boy on the streets, and he knows he has to help. When the young runaway turns out to be his date’s little brother, he brings him on board the sleigh, determined to see him safely home to Stuart.
Can a reindeer shifter pull Santa’s sleigh, reunite two brothers, and find love this Christmas?
This is just an amazingly cute sweet holiday tale. I always love it when authors play around with known legends and give it their own little fresh spin. In Sleigh Duty, we find Dashiel having finally asked out his workplace crush on a date only to find out he's been called to the North Pole for sleigh duty. Throw in a badly timed background statement from a fellow reindeer shifter and his crush, Stuart, suddenly thinks he's off having some fun-fun time instead of going on that date. Stuart thought this one was different but then he heard otherwise, or at least he jumped to the conclusion without inquiring(something his grandparents call him on later). I can't forget Stuart's little brother, Sammy because he absolutely adorable. Sammy's probably well on his way to being like his brother and jumping to conclusions one day but his late night adventure changes everyone.
Sleigh Duty is a short novella about faith in others, believing in what you don't see, and family that will open your heart to all the joys of the season. That makes it sound incredibly deep, well maybe parts are a bit but in a good way, but mostly this is just fun and it certainly ticked all my #ChristmasReads boxes. Definitely one not to be missed this holiday season and if your list is already too long then be sure you mark it for later when you need to be reminded of the magic that is all around at Christmastime.
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Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Prologue
Lane
I know I have to run.
I know I have to get away.
But I can’t. I can barely move.
The Mystery of the Bones by CS Poe
MY MORNINGS at the Emporium were dictated by a comfortable and quiet routine:
Nat King Cole on the speakers.
Tolerable coffee from the cheap maker in my office.
Coaxing the thermostat until the ancient radiators pinged and hissed with steam.
And when someone disrupted that sense of order, it had a tendency to irritate me.
A sudden bang on the front door caused me to lose track of the till I was counting. I leaned over the counter and squinted at the blurry shape on the other side of the glass.
Whoever it was knocked again and called in a muffled voice, “Courier!”
I grunted and handed my assistant, Max Ridley, the wad of small change. “Count that for me.” I walked down the steps, made my way through the twists and turns of my cavernous store, then unlocked and opened the front door. A whoosh of bitterly cold, snowy wind entered. “We’re not open yet.”
The bike courier shrugged in her bulky winter attire. “Hey, man, not my problem,” she countered, speaking through a face mask. She thrust a clipboard at me. “Sign the last line.”
I brought the paperwork closer, but the details of the package’s origin were beyond impossible to read in the chicken-scratch handwriting of the courier’s office employee. “Hope you’re getting paid extra to deliver before business hours,” I said, signing my name on the form and handing it back.
The courier shoved the clipboard into her oversized bag, removed a square box, and all but threw it into my arms. “And many happy returns.” She turned, stepped back into the cold morning, and unlocked her bike from the lamppost across from the shop.
“Yeah. Happy holidays,” I muttered, closing the door. “What time is it?”
“Um… five ’til,” Max said from the counter.
I left the door unlocked.
Max shut the brass register’s drawer as I joined him once more. He picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “That’s not the Depression glassware, is it?”
“I hope not,” I replied, setting the box down. “Unless they sent the decanter in pieces.”
Max visibly cringed at the notion.
Depression glass was too new to have any sort of permanent residency in my shop, but I’d agreed to taking on a rare seven-piece drinking set in what was promised to be a ruby red color, as a project for Max. He’d been more adamant of late about helping with research and amassing contacts of his own. And since the market was always alive and well for Depression glassware, I decided what the hell.
I used a pair of scissors to slice the tape down the middle of the box. I pulled the cardboard flaps back and removed a single sheet of folded paper from atop thick, opaque plastic. Scrawled in what appeared to be a modern rendition of Spencerian script was: Mr. Sebastian Snow, Proprietor.
“What’s it say?” Max asked before I’d gotten any further than unfolding the note.
“It’s not a winning lotto ticket,” I remarked, glancing sideways at him. “So I’m already losing interest.”
“Life isn’t all about money, Seb.”
“You can say that. You don’t have a hospital bill the length of a CVS receipt.”
I’d been shot in May. That batshit crazy Pete White had nearly taken me out with an antique revolver, and all I had to show for surviving was a nasty scar and enough debt to choke a horse. Unsurprisingly, upon learning the value of the Dickson drafts I’d saved, the surviving Robert family members wanted them back and had zero interest in letting me handle their affairs at auction.
As if my percentage would even make a dent in what I predicted their payment would be. Which—fine. Good luck to them trying to maneuver the world of high-end auctions without contacts. Meanwhile, I’d be over here dodging phone calls from the hospital’s collection department. No big deal.
I pulled my magnifying glass from my back pocket and held it over the cursive that mimicked the aesthetic of business communications circa mid-nineteenth century.
An Intriguing Proposition for a Most Curious Man.
Who I am is of no great importance. What I am proposing is.
I, hereby known afterward as Party A, am looking to hire Sebastian Andrew Snow, hereby known as Party B, to recover a most unusual article lost to time and neglect.
I paused, touched the flap on the cardboard box, and tilted it to read, but the only address details were my own. Who the hell was this, and how’d they learn my middle name? I played Andrew pretty close to the chest. No offense to Pop, but I wasn’t a fan.
“What’s that smell?” Max asked suddenly.
I made a vague sound of acknowledgment before continuing to read.
Upon said article’s salvage, Party A is prepared to reward Party B with a most substantial sum.
A Collector.
“Boss?”
“What?” I lowered the magnifying glass to the bottom of the page in order to inspect a disturbingly realistic hand-drawn eye. But that was it. No other details, no contact information, no nada.
“Did you shower this morning?”
At the second disruption to my thoughts, I set the paper down and turned to Max. “Yes.”
“Then what smells like sour milk?” He raised his own arm before shaking his head and saying, “It’s not me.”
“What’s it say about you that you needed to double-check first?” But then I got a whiff of the—death.
And as if Max and I came to the same conclusion at once, we both turned to stare at the steps on my left. Almost one year ago exactly, we’d found a rotting heart under the floorboards and my life forever changed when a redheaded detective came to the Emporium to investigate the mystery.
“‘Villains!’ I shrieked. ‘Dissemble no more!’” I quoted under my breath.
“Don’t.” Max moved around me and tiptoed down the stairs.
“Don’t what?”
He crouched and began to inspect the steps for loose boards that would allow one to successfully conceal a human body part. “Don’t pull out your quotes. It makes everything go topsy-turvy real fast.”
“It does not.”
“It makes you obsessive.”
“Curious,” I corrected. “And it’s human nature to be curious.”
“Not you. And when you get obsessive, people try to kill you.” He looked at me briefly with an expression that read sort of like fight me.
“You act like you’re going to find me dead in a gutter on Staten Island by tomorrow. It stinks in here—I have a right to be curious.”
Max shook his head and continued checking for a floorboard that’d give way to a macabre surprise. “Hello, 911? My boss thinks he’s Columbo….”
“Keep it up and I’m going to trash your holiday bonus.”
Max glanced up a second time, considered, but ultimately dropped the conversation. “The floor’s fine.” He stood, took a step, then frowned as his gaze lowered to the package on the counter.
I looked at it too. It was a very unassuming box. I leaned in and took a sniff. The rancid stench coming from within the plastic made me gag.
“Who’d you piss off now?” Max whispered, a wobble in his voice.
“No one.”
We both studied the box again.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his fist in the classic gesture of rock-paper-scissors. I followed, and on the silent count of three, threw scissors. Max knocked my hand with rock. I let out a breath, squared my shoulders, then grabbed the heavy plastic bag stuffed into the package.
I hoisted out a decapitated human head.
LUCKY CHARMS and coffee leave a decidedly offensive aftertaste upon coming back up. I didn’t have any mints or a toothbrush handy at the shop either, so I tried to mask the vomit-breath with saltwater taffy.
It didn’t work.
In retrospect, of course, it was the least of my problems. But since I had no control over the uniformed officers standing around my counter and inspecting a scene straight out of The Silence of the Lambs, I had to hyperfocus on something. I unwrapped another piece of candy.
“Did you call Calvin?” Max asked from where he sat on the floor, his back against the bookshelves situated in the farthest corner of the shop. Dillon was parked between his legs, enjoying the nervous scratches Max was giving him and not really all that concerned about the morning’s proceedings.
I turned from where I stood at the midpoint between the officers and Max and said, “No.” I tugged the taffy from the wax paper. It stretched into long tendrils and stuck to my hand. I raised my thumb and index finger to suck them clean.
“Why?” Max protested.
“I think it might constitute as crossing a professional line.”
“Yeah, because you’ve zero experience doing that,” Max said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Things are different now.”
To say the least.
I rubbed the last of the sticky candy residue against my trouser leg.
“I don’t like this,” Max continued. “When Sebastian has a reverse Ichabod Crane situation, Calvin and Quinn show up. That’s how it works. The universe has established this.”
“I’m one money-order-made-payable-to-the-City-Clerk away from really pissing his sergeant off,” I explained. “I have to follow proper channels these days. That means starting with 911, and letting the NYPD decide which lucky detective team is investigating this mess.”
I turned my head just then to watch a third uniformed officer enter the shop. He muttered some nicety to the man standing guard at the door before immediately making his way toward the counter where a female officer stood.
I turned to Max and held both hands out, indicating for him not to move. “Stay here.” I started after the newcomer.
The cop was tall. Broad shoulders, dark hair, and thick eyebrows. He was watching me approach while quieting the radio emitting gibberish from his belt.
“Hi,” I said. I held out a hand. “I’m the owner. I called—”
“Sebastian Snow,” he answered for me.
I slowly lowered my hand. “Er—yeah.”
“You’ve got a reputation.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“I’m sure you have.”
I got the distinct impression this officer did not find me to be a charming sonofabitch.
“Now, I know you like to play amateur sleuth, Mr. Snow,” he continued, hands on his utility belt. His accent was so Brooklyn, it was practically a stereotype.
“I’ve recently retired.”
“I don’t think you’re funny.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t think you’re cute.”
“Good.”
“Being a cop is a serious job,” he said in a chastising tone. “And when civilians stick their noses into our business—”
“I’m pretty certain I called you folks for help,” I interrupted.
The female officer leaned over the counter and whispered something to my new biggest fan.
“I know who he’s dating,” Dickhead retorted. He pointed a finger at me. “And this ain’t got nothing to do with you being gay.”
“Thank God,” I said humorlessly. Because I hadn’t heard that before.
“I wouldn’t care if you were engaged to my sergeant. You shouldn’t be allowed within a hundred feet of a crime scene.”
I tugged my sweater closed and crossed my arms over my chest. “So did you want to question me, or should I skedaddle and leave you to all this, Mr. Holmes?”
Dickhead’s nostrils flared like an enraged bull. He closed the space between us and stared me down—which didn’t work because I’ve been around the block a few times with cops—then something in his facial expression changed. Faltered, maybe.
“What’re your eyes doing?”
“Moving,” I answered, my tone more dry than white bread left on too high a setting in the toaster. My Dancing Eyes condition was hardly noticeable as an adult, but still they wobbled involuntarily at times. “I have achromatopsia. Sometimes my eyes move strangely when I get stressed.”
“You’re stressed?”
“Yes, Officer,” I said with a hint of mockery. “I’ve only had one cup of coffee and found a head in a box.”
“Your stressed is pretty calm, Mr. Snow.”
I shrugged. “Hysterics won’t change the situation. Although, I did vomit, if that’ll make you happy.”
“For Christ’s sake, Rossi,” the female cop said, loud enough for me to hear. She leaned over the counter a second time and asked, “Do you know the deceased, Mr. Snow?”
I stared at her, at Rossi, then back to her again. “Do I—know—the head? We’re not acquainted, no.”
Rossi started to speak, but the bell over the shop’s front door chimed for the umpteenth time and gave him pause. He looked around me, raised his lip, and all but rolled his eyes.
“Calvary’s here,” he muttered.
I turned around.
Rescue came in the form of Calvin Winter.
My most favorite detective of the NYPD.
Not that I was biased or anything.
He marched across the showroom floor, making a direct beeline for me where I stood at the base of the elevated counter with Rossi.
“Calvin—” I started, hoping I sounded cool and relaxed and not utterly relieved that despite our soon-to-be legally recognized relationship, he’d still been the one shouldered with another case involving yours truly.
But Calvin cut me off by grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace. His heavy coat was damp from melting snow. The wool was itchy and cold against my skin, but the discomfort was eased by the familiar warmth and hard body under the layers. Sure, I’d been in bed with this handsome man only a few hours ago, but I didn’t think I’d never not find comfort in the scent of Calvin’s earthy cologne or the ever-present cinnamon on his breath from obsessive mint-popping.
He’d shown up like a knight in shining armor.
Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn
Healing Hearts by K Evan Coles
“Hey, Doc! What can I get you?”
Zac stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Sorry. You caught me napping,” he said.
“I’d say I caught you texting.”
A young man in a black t-shirt and matching bandana tied over his head smiled at Zac from the food truck’s window while people worked in the space behind him. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?”
“Oh! Yes, I have.” Zac’s cheeks grew warm, and he reached for the glasses in his breast pocket. “Two orders of the pasta with cheese and pepper. I’m a nurse, by the way, not a doctor.”
“Those blue scrubs get me every time. Y’know, some of my favorite people are nurses,” the food truck guy said before he called out over his shoulder. “Cacio e pepe, two!” He turned back to Zac. “The pasta is spaghetti today, in case you were interested. Anything else?”
“Err, yes. A house salad.”
“Only one?”
“I have one already,” Zac said and motioned to his bag.
The food truck guy nodded once, then turned his attention to the order. Zac watched as he portioned field greens and whisked dressing, but really, Zac was more interested in watching the food truck guy himself. He was striking with creamy skin and smiling eyes, his bone structure and features strong and elegant. Intricate tattoos stretched from under the right sleeve of his t-shirt to a few inches below the elbow, including a thick equality symbol on his inner forearm. He glanced up at Zac, and the way the right side of his mouth curled up made Zac want to smile back. For a second, Zac forgot about the message from Edward and that his legs and feet were tired from being on shift.
“Thanks, Em,” the food truck guy said as another member of the crew set two steaming take-out containers on the counter. “These look great, if I say so myself.”
Producing a narrow blade grater and a small block of what Zac guessed was parmesan, he garnished the hot noodles with pale curls of cheese then finished the dish with several turns from a beat-up pepper grinder. The luscious aromas that rose in the air woke Zac’s forgotten hunger, and he found himself looking forward to eating much more than usual.
“Don’t wait too long to eat these,” the food truck guy said. He closed the tops of the brown cardboard boxes and the inked designs moved on his arm. “The sooner you tuck in, the better.”
“No worries there.” Zac handed over his debit card.
“I packed extra salad dressing for you, by the way.”
“You did?” Zac had to smile. “Well, thank you. Is that your way of saying your salad dressing is better than mine?”
“Nope.” The corners of the food truck guy’s eyes crinkled with his grin. “It’s my way of saying you should try my dressing, though, because you won’t be sorry that you did.”
Zac laughed. Despite the cocky words, the food truck guy’s tone was sincere. “That good, huh?”
“That good. Just like everything we make on this truck.” He handed a brown paper bag and Zac’s card through the window. “Buon appetito.”
The food truck guy wet his lips with a quick dart of his tongue, and Zac stared for a moment before he caught himself. Cheeks hot again, he turned to go.
“You come back tomorrow and let me know what you think of the spaghetti!” the guy called after him, and damn if that didn’t make Zac’s steps a little lighter.
Sleigh Duty by LM Brown
“Dashiel, you’re up next,” the elf in charge of fittings called. “Get your hooves moving, you’re holding everyone up.”
Dashiel wondered who had first depicted Santa’s elves as cheerful little toy makers. He had yet to see one smile. They seemed even more miserable than he was right now. Of course, he hadn’t met many, and it was the most stressful time of year for them. Not to mention they hadn’t seen daylight in three months. That would make him grumpy too. Still, there was no need for them to prod him in the rear quite so hard to get him moving.
The next few hours were spent being trained in how to respond to the reins. Dashiel didn’t mind learning how to pull the sleigh, he just wished they could leave off the bells until they were in the air. The constant jingling was driving him up the wall.
Then came the flying lessons. Yuri must have seen Dumbo recently, because he was giving them a loud rendition of the song about elephants flying, but substituting reindeer instead. Apparently teasing the first timers like Dashiel was the highlight of his night. There were three shifters who had never been summoned before, Dashiel being the youngest of the trio.
The first time Dashiel’s hooves left the ground he almost panicked. Thoughts of flying off into space nearly had him hyperventilating, even though the others assured him that no matter how hard he tried, he would never even reach the height of a plane.
Finally, they were as prepared as they could be. Dashiel took his place beside Fred. Yuri and wife were in front of them, the couple taking the lead.
Everyone went quiet when Santa arrived. He was just as Dashiel had pictured him, though he had never seen him in person. Unlike the couple in front of him, Dashiel’s parents had never been summoned on the same night, so he had never been brought to the North Pole with them.
As they took off into the sky, Dashiel glanced below and saw how large the toy factory truly was. It was so much more than a single building. There was an entire village, with every house decorated for Christmas.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he said to Fred.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Fred replied.
“You’re not scared of heights are you?”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t look down.”
Dashiel snorted. “I’d rather look down at the ground, than at Yuri’s arse all night.”
“I heard that,” Yuri replied. “I’ll have you know, my arse is the envy of reindeer the world over.”
Dashiel couldn’t laugh properly in his reindeer form, but he was starting to feel the Christmas spirit now. Chances were, he would be required to do sleigh duty again in the coming years, but there were those who were only summoned once in their life, and since he didn’t know if he would be called again, he intended to make the most of tonight.
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.
The Mystery of the Bones by CS Poe
MY MORNINGS at the Emporium were dictated by a comfortable and quiet routine:
Nat King Cole on the speakers.
Tolerable coffee from the cheap maker in my office.
Coaxing the thermostat until the ancient radiators pinged and hissed with steam.
And when someone disrupted that sense of order, it had a tendency to irritate me.
A sudden bang on the front door caused me to lose track of the till I was counting. I leaned over the counter and squinted at the blurry shape on the other side of the glass.
Whoever it was knocked again and called in a muffled voice, “Courier!”
I grunted and handed my assistant, Max Ridley, the wad of small change. “Count that for me.” I walked down the steps, made my way through the twists and turns of my cavernous store, then unlocked and opened the front door. A whoosh of bitterly cold, snowy wind entered. “We’re not open yet.”
The bike courier shrugged in her bulky winter attire. “Hey, man, not my problem,” she countered, speaking through a face mask. She thrust a clipboard at me. “Sign the last line.”
I brought the paperwork closer, but the details of the package’s origin were beyond impossible to read in the chicken-scratch handwriting of the courier’s office employee. “Hope you’re getting paid extra to deliver before business hours,” I said, signing my name on the form and handing it back.
The courier shoved the clipboard into her oversized bag, removed a square box, and all but threw it into my arms. “And many happy returns.” She turned, stepped back into the cold morning, and unlocked her bike from the lamppost across from the shop.
“Yeah. Happy holidays,” I muttered, closing the door. “What time is it?”
“Um… five ’til,” Max said from the counter.
I left the door unlocked.
Max shut the brass register’s drawer as I joined him once more. He picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “That’s not the Depression glassware, is it?”
“I hope not,” I replied, setting the box down. “Unless they sent the decanter in pieces.”
Max visibly cringed at the notion.
Depression glass was too new to have any sort of permanent residency in my shop, but I’d agreed to taking on a rare seven-piece drinking set in what was promised to be a ruby red color, as a project for Max. He’d been more adamant of late about helping with research and amassing contacts of his own. And since the market was always alive and well for Depression glassware, I decided what the hell.
I used a pair of scissors to slice the tape down the middle of the box. I pulled the cardboard flaps back and removed a single sheet of folded paper from atop thick, opaque plastic. Scrawled in what appeared to be a modern rendition of Spencerian script was: Mr. Sebastian Snow, Proprietor.
“What’s it say?” Max asked before I’d gotten any further than unfolding the note.
“It’s not a winning lotto ticket,” I remarked, glancing sideways at him. “So I’m already losing interest.”
“Life isn’t all about money, Seb.”
“You can say that. You don’t have a hospital bill the length of a CVS receipt.”
I’d been shot in May. That batshit crazy Pete White had nearly taken me out with an antique revolver, and all I had to show for surviving was a nasty scar and enough debt to choke a horse. Unsurprisingly, upon learning the value of the Dickson drafts I’d saved, the surviving Robert family members wanted them back and had zero interest in letting me handle their affairs at auction.
As if my percentage would even make a dent in what I predicted their payment would be. Which—fine. Good luck to them trying to maneuver the world of high-end auctions without contacts. Meanwhile, I’d be over here dodging phone calls from the hospital’s collection department. No big deal.
I pulled my magnifying glass from my back pocket and held it over the cursive that mimicked the aesthetic of business communications circa mid-nineteenth century.
An Intriguing Proposition for a Most Curious Man.
Who I am is of no great importance. What I am proposing is.
I, hereby known afterward as Party A, am looking to hire Sebastian Andrew Snow, hereby known as Party B, to recover a most unusual article lost to time and neglect.
I paused, touched the flap on the cardboard box, and tilted it to read, but the only address details were my own. Who the hell was this, and how’d they learn my middle name? I played Andrew pretty close to the chest. No offense to Pop, but I wasn’t a fan.
“What’s that smell?” Max asked suddenly.
I made a vague sound of acknowledgment before continuing to read.
Upon said article’s salvage, Party A is prepared to reward Party B with a most substantial sum.
A Collector.
“Boss?”
“What?” I lowered the magnifying glass to the bottom of the page in order to inspect a disturbingly realistic hand-drawn eye. But that was it. No other details, no contact information, no nada.
“Did you shower this morning?”
At the second disruption to my thoughts, I set the paper down and turned to Max. “Yes.”
“Then what smells like sour milk?” He raised his own arm before shaking his head and saying, “It’s not me.”
“What’s it say about you that you needed to double-check first?” But then I got a whiff of the—death.
And as if Max and I came to the same conclusion at once, we both turned to stare at the steps on my left. Almost one year ago exactly, we’d found a rotting heart under the floorboards and my life forever changed when a redheaded detective came to the Emporium to investigate the mystery.
“‘Villains!’ I shrieked. ‘Dissemble no more!’” I quoted under my breath.
“Don’t.” Max moved around me and tiptoed down the stairs.
“Don’t what?”
He crouched and began to inspect the steps for loose boards that would allow one to successfully conceal a human body part. “Don’t pull out your quotes. It makes everything go topsy-turvy real fast.”
“It does not.”
“It makes you obsessive.”
“Curious,” I corrected. “And it’s human nature to be curious.”
“Not you. And when you get obsessive, people try to kill you.” He looked at me briefly with an expression that read sort of like fight me.
“You act like you’re going to find me dead in a gutter on Staten Island by tomorrow. It stinks in here—I have a right to be curious.”
Max shook his head and continued checking for a floorboard that’d give way to a macabre surprise. “Hello, 911? My boss thinks he’s Columbo….”
“Keep it up and I’m going to trash your holiday bonus.”
Max glanced up a second time, considered, but ultimately dropped the conversation. “The floor’s fine.” He stood, took a step, then frowned as his gaze lowered to the package on the counter.
I looked at it too. It was a very unassuming box. I leaned in and took a sniff. The rancid stench coming from within the plastic made me gag.
“Who’d you piss off now?” Max whispered, a wobble in his voice.
“No one.”
We both studied the box again.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his fist in the classic gesture of rock-paper-scissors. I followed, and on the silent count of three, threw scissors. Max knocked my hand with rock. I let out a breath, squared my shoulders, then grabbed the heavy plastic bag stuffed into the package.
I hoisted out a decapitated human head.
LUCKY CHARMS and coffee leave a decidedly offensive aftertaste upon coming back up. I didn’t have any mints or a toothbrush handy at the shop either, so I tried to mask the vomit-breath with saltwater taffy.
It didn’t work.
In retrospect, of course, it was the least of my problems. But since I had no control over the uniformed officers standing around my counter and inspecting a scene straight out of The Silence of the Lambs, I had to hyperfocus on something. I unwrapped another piece of candy.
“Did you call Calvin?” Max asked from where he sat on the floor, his back against the bookshelves situated in the farthest corner of the shop. Dillon was parked between his legs, enjoying the nervous scratches Max was giving him and not really all that concerned about the morning’s proceedings.
I turned from where I stood at the midpoint between the officers and Max and said, “No.” I tugged the taffy from the wax paper. It stretched into long tendrils and stuck to my hand. I raised my thumb and index finger to suck them clean.
“Why?” Max protested.
“I think it might constitute as crossing a professional line.”
“Yeah, because you’ve zero experience doing that,” Max said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Things are different now.”
To say the least.
I rubbed the last of the sticky candy residue against my trouser leg.
“I don’t like this,” Max continued. “When Sebastian has a reverse Ichabod Crane situation, Calvin and Quinn show up. That’s how it works. The universe has established this.”
“I’m one money-order-made-payable-to-the-City-Clerk away from really pissing his sergeant off,” I explained. “I have to follow proper channels these days. That means starting with 911, and letting the NYPD decide which lucky detective team is investigating this mess.”
I turned my head just then to watch a third uniformed officer enter the shop. He muttered some nicety to the man standing guard at the door before immediately making his way toward the counter where a female officer stood.
I turned to Max and held both hands out, indicating for him not to move. “Stay here.” I started after the newcomer.
The cop was tall. Broad shoulders, dark hair, and thick eyebrows. He was watching me approach while quieting the radio emitting gibberish from his belt.
“Hi,” I said. I held out a hand. “I’m the owner. I called—”
“Sebastian Snow,” he answered for me.
I slowly lowered my hand. “Er—yeah.”
“You’ve got a reputation.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“I’m sure you have.”
I got the distinct impression this officer did not find me to be a charming sonofabitch.
“Now, I know you like to play amateur sleuth, Mr. Snow,” he continued, hands on his utility belt. His accent was so Brooklyn, it was practically a stereotype.
“I’ve recently retired.”
“I don’t think you’re funny.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t think you’re cute.”
“Good.”
“Being a cop is a serious job,” he said in a chastising tone. “And when civilians stick their noses into our business—”
“I’m pretty certain I called you folks for help,” I interrupted.
The female officer leaned over the counter and whispered something to my new biggest fan.
“I know who he’s dating,” Dickhead retorted. He pointed a finger at me. “And this ain’t got nothing to do with you being gay.”
“Thank God,” I said humorlessly. Because I hadn’t heard that before.
“I wouldn’t care if you were engaged to my sergeant. You shouldn’t be allowed within a hundred feet of a crime scene.”
I tugged my sweater closed and crossed my arms over my chest. “So did you want to question me, or should I skedaddle and leave you to all this, Mr. Holmes?”
Dickhead’s nostrils flared like an enraged bull. He closed the space between us and stared me down—which didn’t work because I’ve been around the block a few times with cops—then something in his facial expression changed. Faltered, maybe.
“What’re your eyes doing?”
“Moving,” I answered, my tone more dry than white bread left on too high a setting in the toaster. My Dancing Eyes condition was hardly noticeable as an adult, but still they wobbled involuntarily at times. “I have achromatopsia. Sometimes my eyes move strangely when I get stressed.”
“You’re stressed?”
“Yes, Officer,” I said with a hint of mockery. “I’ve only had one cup of coffee and found a head in a box.”
“Your stressed is pretty calm, Mr. Snow.”
I shrugged. “Hysterics won’t change the situation. Although, I did vomit, if that’ll make you happy.”
“For Christ’s sake, Rossi,” the female cop said, loud enough for me to hear. She leaned over the counter a second time and asked, “Do you know the deceased, Mr. Snow?”
I stared at her, at Rossi, then back to her again. “Do I—know—the head? We’re not acquainted, no.”
Rossi started to speak, but the bell over the shop’s front door chimed for the umpteenth time and gave him pause. He looked around me, raised his lip, and all but rolled his eyes.
“Calvary’s here,” he muttered.
I turned around.
Rescue came in the form of Calvin Winter.
My most favorite detective of the NYPD.
Not that I was biased or anything.
He marched across the showroom floor, making a direct beeline for me where I stood at the base of the elevated counter with Rossi.
“Calvin—” I started, hoping I sounded cool and relaxed and not utterly relieved that despite our soon-to-be legally recognized relationship, he’d still been the one shouldered with another case involving yours truly.
But Calvin cut me off by grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a bone-crushing embrace. His heavy coat was damp from melting snow. The wool was itchy and cold against my skin, but the discomfort was eased by the familiar warmth and hard body under the layers. Sure, I’d been in bed with this handsome man only a few hours ago, but I didn’t think I’d never not find comfort in the scent of Calvin’s earthy cologne or the ever-present cinnamon on his breath from obsessive mint-popping.
He’d shown up like a knight in shining armor.
Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn
“All joking aside, I guess we’ll have to hope that Christmas romance pans out for you after all,” Seth said a few minutes later.
“Guess so,” Erik said absently as he stared at the TV screen. He glanced at Seth. “For you too.”
“Thanks. Maybe that should have been my birthday wish last week.”
“You had a birthday last week?”
Seth nodded. “On the nineteenth. I spent it in Dresden. I was there to write a piece about the Striezelmarkt—the Christmas market—that’s been going on for over 600 years.”
“I’ve heard of those,” Erik said. “They’re all over Germany, right?”
“Yes. This is supposed to be one of the best though. There’s a carousel and the world’s biggest nutcracker. Plus, hundreds of booths filled with handmade crafts, pottery, candles, toys, wooden ornaments, and food. It’s incredible. Twinkling lights everywhere and the whole atmosphere feels festive.” By the end, Seth’s serious expression had melted away and was replaced by his now-familiar happy smile. He glowed when he talked about travel.
“It does sound incredible,” Erik agreed. “I can think of worse places to spend my birthday.”
“Oh, me too,” Seth agreed. “And I met a nice strapping German man by the name of Hans to celebrate it with. My German isn’t great, and his English was a bit broken, but we managed.” Seth gave him a little wink.
“I can’t say spending my birthday with Hans would be my choice,” Erik said drily. “But good for you.”
Seth shivered. “Is it just me or is it getting colder in here again?”
“It does seem like it.” Erik stood, then walked over to fiddle with the heater controls. “I’ll try cranking it up a little more.”
“I wonder if there are any extra blankets in the room?” Seth said as he walked past. He opened the closet doors. “Hmm. Nothing in here. Maybe in the dresser?”
“I didn’t notice anything when I put my clothes in there but check the bottom two drawers—I didn’t look in them. If you don’t find any blankets, I’ll have a talk with someone at the desk in the morning,” Erik said. He doubted a maintenance person was on hand twenty-four hours, especially in this weather.
“Or we could share body heat,” Seth said with a grin as he returned to his spot on the bed.
“Are you sure you didn’t get me liquored up so you could take advantage of me?” Erik asked, but he kept his voice light and teasing.
Seth shot him a dirty look. “No. Of course not. But the offer stands if you need it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Erik grabbed his toiletry kit and a pair of pajamas out of the dresser. “I’m going to shower. Alone. And get ready for bed unless you need the bathroom before I head in there.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Erik fled to the bathroom as if Seth’s offer to help him out was hot on his heels.
Healing Hearts by K Evan Coles
“Hey, Doc! What can I get you?”
Zac stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Sorry. You caught me napping,” he said.
“I’d say I caught you texting.”
A young man in a black t-shirt and matching bandana tied over his head smiled at Zac from the food truck’s window while people worked in the space behind him. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?”
“Oh! Yes, I have.” Zac’s cheeks grew warm, and he reached for the glasses in his breast pocket. “Two orders of the pasta with cheese and pepper. I’m a nurse, by the way, not a doctor.”
“Those blue scrubs get me every time. Y’know, some of my favorite people are nurses,” the food truck guy said before he called out over his shoulder. “Cacio e pepe, two!” He turned back to Zac. “The pasta is spaghetti today, in case you were interested. Anything else?”
“Err, yes. A house salad.”
“Only one?”
“I have one already,” Zac said and motioned to his bag.
The food truck guy nodded once, then turned his attention to the order. Zac watched as he portioned field greens and whisked dressing, but really, Zac was more interested in watching the food truck guy himself. He was striking with creamy skin and smiling eyes, his bone structure and features strong and elegant. Intricate tattoos stretched from under the right sleeve of his t-shirt to a few inches below the elbow, including a thick equality symbol on his inner forearm. He glanced up at Zac, and the way the right side of his mouth curled up made Zac want to smile back. For a second, Zac forgot about the message from Edward and that his legs and feet were tired from being on shift.
“Thanks, Em,” the food truck guy said as another member of the crew set two steaming take-out containers on the counter. “These look great, if I say so myself.”
Producing a narrow blade grater and a small block of what Zac guessed was parmesan, he garnished the hot noodles with pale curls of cheese then finished the dish with several turns from a beat-up pepper grinder. The luscious aromas that rose in the air woke Zac’s forgotten hunger, and he found himself looking forward to eating much more than usual.
“Don’t wait too long to eat these,” the food truck guy said. He closed the tops of the brown cardboard boxes and the inked designs moved on his arm. “The sooner you tuck in, the better.”
“No worries there.” Zac handed over his debit card.
“I packed extra salad dressing for you, by the way.”
“You did?” Zac had to smile. “Well, thank you. Is that your way of saying your salad dressing is better than mine?”
“Nope.” The corners of the food truck guy’s eyes crinkled with his grin. “It’s my way of saying you should try my dressing, though, because you won’t be sorry that you did.”
Zac laughed. Despite the cocky words, the food truck guy’s tone was sincere. “That good, huh?”
“That good. Just like everything we make on this truck.” He handed a brown paper bag and Zac’s card through the window. “Buon appetito.”
The food truck guy wet his lips with a quick dart of his tongue, and Zac stared for a moment before he caught himself. Cheeks hot again, he turned to go.
“You come back tomorrow and let me know what you think of the spaghetti!” the guy called after him, and damn if that didn’t make Zac’s steps a little lighter.
Sleigh Duty by LM Brown
“Dashiel, you’re up next,” the elf in charge of fittings called. “Get your hooves moving, you’re holding everyone up.”
Dashiel wondered who had first depicted Santa’s elves as cheerful little toy makers. He had yet to see one smile. They seemed even more miserable than he was right now. Of course, he hadn’t met many, and it was the most stressful time of year for them. Not to mention they hadn’t seen daylight in three months. That would make him grumpy too. Still, there was no need for them to prod him in the rear quite so hard to get him moving.
The next few hours were spent being trained in how to respond to the reins. Dashiel didn’t mind learning how to pull the sleigh, he just wished they could leave off the bells until they were in the air. The constant jingling was driving him up the wall.
Then came the flying lessons. Yuri must have seen Dumbo recently, because he was giving them a loud rendition of the song about elephants flying, but substituting reindeer instead. Apparently teasing the first timers like Dashiel was the highlight of his night. There were three shifters who had never been summoned before, Dashiel being the youngest of the trio.
The first time Dashiel’s hooves left the ground he almost panicked. Thoughts of flying off into space nearly had him hyperventilating, even though the others assured him that no matter how hard he tried, he would never even reach the height of a plane.
Finally, they were as prepared as they could be. Dashiel took his place beside Fred. Yuri and wife were in front of them, the couple taking the lead.
Everyone went quiet when Santa arrived. He was just as Dashiel had pictured him, though he had never seen him in person. Unlike the couple in front of him, Dashiel’s parents had never been summoned on the same night, so he had never been brought to the North Pole with them.
As they took off into the sky, Dashiel glanced below and saw how large the toy factory truly was. It was so much more than a single building. There was an entire village, with every house decorated for Christmas.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he said to Fred.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Fred replied.
“You’re not scared of heights are you?”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t look down.”
Dashiel snorted. “I’d rather look down at the ground, than at Yuri’s arse all night.”
“I heard that,” Yuri replied. “I’ll have you know, my arse is the envy of reindeer the world over.”
Dashiel couldn’t laugh properly in his reindeer form, but he was starting to feel the Christmas spirit now. Chances were, he would be required to do sleigh duty again in the coming years, but there were those who were only summoned once in their life, and since he didn’t know if he would be called again, he intended to make the most of tonight.
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.
RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.
RJ is the author of the over one hundred novels and discovered romance in books at a very young age. She realized that if there wasn’t romance on the page, she could create it in her head, and is a lifelong writer.
She lives and works out of her home in the beautiful English countryside, spends her spare time reading, watching films, and enjoying time with her family.
The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit and has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.
She’s always thrilled to hear from readers, bloggers and other writers. Please contact via the following links below.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
C.S. Poe is a Lambda Literary and EPIC award finalist author of gay mystery, romance, and paranormal books.
She is a reluctant mover and has called many places home in her lifetime. C.S. has lived in New York City, Key West, and Ibaraki, Japan, to name a few. She misses the cleanliness, convenience, and limited-edition gachapon of Japan, but she was never very good at riding bikes to get around.
She has an affinity for all things cute and colorful and a major weakness for toys. C.S. is an avid fan of coffee, reading, and cats. She’s rescued two cats—Milo and Kasper do their best on a daily basis to sidetrack her from work.
C.S. is a member of the International Thriller Writers organization.
Her debut novel, The Mystery of Nevermore, was published by DSP Publications, 2016.
USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.
K. Evan Coles is a mother and tech pirate by day and a writer by night. She is a dreamer who, with a little hard work and a lot of good coffee, coaxes words out of her head and onto paper.
K. lives in the northeast United States, where she complains bitterly about the winters, but truly loves the region and its diverse, tenacious and deceptively compassionate people. You’ll usually find K. nerding out over books, movies and television with friends and family. She’s especially proud to be raising her son as part of a new generation of unabashed geeks.
K.’s books explore LGBTQ+ romance in contemporary settings.
Andi James has been in love with books and words her entire life. She writes about people finding things — themselves, happiness, love — and edits all kinds of stories. Her two dogs and three cats are her favorite co-workers. She adores coffee, the night sky, and horror movies.
Lila Wilde writes books about people who fall in love with other people. She is obsessed with unicorns and glitter and cupcakes and suspects that her St. Bernard is smarter than she is.
L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances. She believes mermen live in the undiscovered areas of the ocean. She believes life exists on other planets. She believes in fairy tales, magic, and dreams. Most of all, she believes in love.
When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.
Alice Winters
EMAIL: alicewintersauthor@gmail.com
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
CS Poe
EMAIL: contact@cspoe.com
Brigham Vaughn
SMASHWORDS / PINTEREST / SCRIBd / B&N
EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com K Evan Coles
Andi James
FACEBOOK / TWITTER / WEBSITE
ANDI & LILA WEBSITE / ANDI & LILA FB GROUP
ANDI & LILA NEWSLETTER
INSTAGRAM / AMAZON / GOODREADS
ANDI & LILA WEBSITE / ANDI & LILA FB GROUP
ANDI & LILA NEWSLETTER
INSTAGRAM / AMAZON / GOODREADS
Lila Wilde
INSTAGRAM / AMAZON / GOODREADS
LM Brown
EMAIL: lmbrownauthor@gmail.com
Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Promise by RJ Scott
New Tricks by Davidson King
The Mystery of the Bones by CS Poe
Across the Pond by RJ Scott & VL Locey
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn
Healing Hearts by K Evan Coles
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
Christmas Lights by RJ Scott & VL Locey
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
Sleigh Duty by LM Brown
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn
Healing Hearts by K Evan Coles
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
Christmas Lights by RJ Scott & VL Locey
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
The Twelve Dates of Christmas by Andi James & Lila Wilde
Sleigh Duty by LM Brown
AMAZON US / AMAZON UK / GOODREADS TBR
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