Summary:
Keeping secrets is never a good way to start a relationship
Theo hardly has time to date. Between work and caring for his four-year-old son there aren’t many hours left over. He’s lonely though, so he joins a hook-up app and starts chatting to a guy called Luke. Luke seems friendly and they arrange to meet. Theo doesn’t mention that he has a child. It’s early days and he’s worried about putting Luke off before they get to know each other.
Luke is currently working as Santa at the local shopping mall. He figures Theo never has to know. Christmas will be over soon and Luke will move on to a new, less embarrassing job. He’s surprised when Theo and a little boy visit Santa one afternoon. Theo doesn’t recognise Luke, and Luke realises he’s not the only one with a secret.
Despite misgivings on both sides, they start dating, and the chemistry is amazing. But as Christmas approaches their secrets pile up like colourful packages under the tree. If they’re not careful, they’ll lose the best gift of all—each other.
Original Audiobook Review December 2020:
Theo hardly has time to date. Between work and caring for his four-year-old son there aren’t many hours left over. He’s lonely though, so he joins a hook-up app and starts chatting to a guy called Luke. Luke seems friendly and they arrange to meet. Theo doesn’t mention that he has a child. It’s early days and he’s worried about putting Luke off before they get to know each other.
Luke is currently working as Santa at the local shopping mall. He figures Theo never has to know. Christmas will be over soon and Luke will move on to a new, less embarrassing job. He’s surprised when Theo and a little boy visit Santa one afternoon. Theo doesn’t recognise Luke, and Luke realises he’s not the only one with a secret.
Despite misgivings on both sides, they start dating, and the chemistry is amazing. But as Christmas approaches their secrets pile up like colourful packages under the tree. If they’re not careful, they’ll lose the best gift of all—each other.
So it's been 3 years since I originally read Secret Santa and guess what? It's just as lovely as the first time, maybe even more so because it is the kind of fun entertainment that is so needed in the year we've been experiencing. Once again the combination of Jay Northcote's words and Hamish Long's voice brings this holiday treat to life. I can't list the number of times I looked up and expected to see Theo and Luke in front of me, listening to their journey was so real, so . . . well just plain lovely that I really felt like I was watching it unfold in front of me. The blending of fun, sweet, heartfelt romance definitely makes Secret Santa(in reading and listening form) a true holiday classic in the making. Not all holiday stories can stand the test of time, they can still be enjoyable but a bit dated, Secret Santa falls into the "standing the test of time" column. And come on, a man caring for a child is one of the sexiest forms of humanity there is in my book.
Original Review December 2017:
After joining a dating app Theo and Luke begin chatting and after a canceled coffee date they finally meet. The connection is there but both men are keeping a secret. Theo has a son and Luke is a store Santa. They both have valid and understanding reasons for keeping their secrets, but when the truths come out will Christmas bring cheer or coal to the men?
Secret Santa is a fun and entertaining holiday read. I loved how the connection between the two men is instant and yet the element of "is it enough for another date?" is hanging in the air. Theo and Luke are both very likable characters that you just want to give them a giant bear hug to let them know how much you love them. They may be fictional characters and the situation they find themselves in is not something you would likely find yourself in but at the same time the writer has written it in a way that you could easily believe you are sitting there listening to a friend tell you that is how they met their partner.
Its that blend of fiction and possibility that makes Secret Santa so enjoyable, so heartwarming, and just plain fun. It may not be right away next holiday season but I am definitely looking forward to revisiting Theo and Luke's journey again. Jay Northcote has another winner on his hands with Secret Santa, a true holiday treat.
RATING: 
After joining a dating app Theo and Luke begin chatting and after a canceled coffee date they finally meet. The connection is there but both men are keeping a secret. Theo has a son and Luke is a store Santa. They both have valid and understanding reasons for keeping their secrets, but when the truths come out will Christmas bring cheer or coal to the men?
Secret Santa is a fun and entertaining holiday read. I loved how the connection between the two men is instant and yet the element of "is it enough for another date?" is hanging in the air. Theo and Luke are both very likable characters that you just want to give them a giant bear hug to let them know how much you love them. They may be fictional characters and the situation they find themselves in is not something you would likely find yourself in but at the same time the writer has written it in a way that you could easily believe you are sitting there listening to a friend tell you that is how they met their partner.
Its that blend of fiction and possibility that makes Secret Santa so enjoyable, so heartwarming, and just plain fun. It may not be right away next holiday season but I am definitely looking forward to revisiting Theo and Luke's journey again. Jay Northcote has another winner on his hands with Secret Santa, a true holiday treat.
Summary:
Wild R Farm #7
Every year Cole Wilder hosts a big Christmas dinner for all the employees of Wild R Farm, and every year he takes on too many responsibilities then ends up exhausted and even more cranky than usual. This year, Cole’s husband, Jonah, is determined things will be different. Not only is he having their bathroom renovated to add a little luxury to their lives, he’s got plans to whisk Cole away for a Christmas vacation. But getting Cole to agree to let their ebullient friend, Tristan, organize Christmas at the farm is easier said that done.
Tristan promises to take perfect care of the farm, but as soon as Cole and Jonah leave, chaos ensues—couples fighting, construction disasters, kitchen woes. The only thing keeping confessed Christmas-o-phile, Tristan, merry is his boyfriend, Wes. He knows exactly what Tristan needs so they can pull the whole Wild R Farm crew together for the happiest Christmas they’ve ever had.
Summary:
Northern Pines Den #6
It's been ten years since the Rogue War ended...
Join all of our friends in the North for one big three day Winter Solstice celebration. Revisit each and every couple from the Northern Lodge Pack and The Northern Pines Den. Kai and Taylor, each the Alpha Mate of their respective communities, will join forces to plan the party to end all parties. From yule logs to bonfires, crazy aunties to placid betas, cubs and pups too... all of the shifters you know and love will be there for the holiday!
Warning! You may need a fan due to extreme heat generation! Cold nights and warm beds will bring a lot of steam. Seriously. 18+ readers only please as this book contains adults adulting in naughty knotty ways! HEA Definitely Included! This book is 25k.
Angels in the City by Garrett Leigh
Summary:A fake relationship with a stranger. An office romance with doughnuts and white knights. An addictive arrangement—friends with benefits—fast turns to love.
Jonah Gray is rich, successful, and the most eligible bachelor in the city, according to his mother, at least. But the truth is, despite her efforts to pair him off, he’s fine on his own. All he needs is a date to the Christmas ball.
Sacha Ivanov is a lone wolf, content in the cycle of long days, late nights, and anonymous hook ups, but when a chance encounter in a broken-down lift brings a gorgeous copper-haired CEO into his life, everything begins to change.
As Christmas fast approaches, a favour for a stranger blooms into something more. He doesn’t do second dates or relationships. But for kind-hearted Jonah, his angel in the city, he might just change his mind.
Angels in the City is a Christmas themed MM friends-to-lovers, forced proximity, office romance. Expect fraught days, steamy nights, and true love built around festive snacks and Christmas trees.
Summary:
Once upon a time, the fate of three men was decided in a world where it was forever Christmas.
A faerie forced to flee his homeland
Kaegan lives in fear of his vicious twin brother. Tormented and abused, his only option is to escape to the one place he knows he’ll be safe: Inverkillen, a haven of magic, eternal Christmas where he has the chance to live the life he craves. But leaving Faerieland means taking a huge risk.
A man searching for a second chance
Aiden’s world is broken. Life is a dark and wretched place—until a chance encounter with Kaegan gives him hope for a brighter future. But fate has never been Aiden’s friend. No sooner has Kaegan come into his life, than he’s gone. Aiden is resigned to loneliness, but after he makes a startling discovery, he takes a decision that could be the biggest gamble of his life.
An anguished soul ready to end it all
Pascal is afraid to love. He’s determined not to risk his heart when he knows everything can be snatched away in a single moment. A fateful meeting leads to a night of enchantment and passion, leaving Pascal hungry to know more about the mysterious Kaegan. But when morning comes, Kaegan is gone, leaving Pascal to follow the one clue he has to the beautiful stranger’s whereabouts.
Three men in search of a second chance, deep in a snowy wilderness. Will Christmas cast its magic to give them the greatest gift of all: their Happy Ever After?
Trigger warning - some domestic violence and cruelty to a child (not sexual)
Secret Santa by Jay Northcote
Chapter One
Luke’s mind drifted away from the episode of Top Gear he was watching on his iPad in bed. He yawned, tired after a full day of smiling and being jolly. His new job working as Santa in a grotto at the out-of-town mall near where he lived was surprisingly exhausting. Dealing with people in general all day was one thing, but interacting with small children was quite another. Roll on Christmas when he could hang up his Santa suit for good.
Bored and mildly horny, Luke picked up his phone and scrolled idly down the list of usernames and profile photos on Grindr.
He sighed as he saw all the conversations that had dwindled and died. Guys who only wanted to chat when they were horny, and never wanted to meet in person. Or guys who wanted to meet and have no-strings sex, but were “discreet.” Everyone knew that was hook-up app code for married or cheating on a boyfriend—or girlfriend. Luke wasn’t into that. Was it really too much to ask to find a single bloke who was actually interested in more than just a hook up?
It seemed that way, because Luke had been using the app for a year now and he still hadn’t managed to find one. Disillusioned and fed up, he’d nearly deleted the app several times in the last month or so. Yet something kept him coming back, because potential boyfriends didn’t grow on trees. Luke kept hoping that eventually Mr Right, or at least Mr Good Enough For Now, would come along.
He went through the list of chats, deleting a few conversations he’d given up on. Then he went back to the grid and refreshed it and started to scroll to see if there was anyone who looked interesting.
Luke paused on the profile shot of a slim, smooth chest, with a happy trail leading down to low-slung jeans. The username was Geek Guy and he was four miles away.
Geek Guy must be new, unless he’d changed his pic or his username. Luke would definitely have noticed him, because he had a thing for geeks, and he also liked skinny, twinky guys. He opened Geek Guy’s profile to see if it gave much info.
New here, please be gentle, was all it said at the top.
5’10”, twenty-nine years old—the same as Luke—slim build, vers bottom. Luke was a versatile top so Geek Guy sounded ideal. His profile said he was looking for mates, dates, and relationships. No mention of hook ups/no strings.
Ever hopeful that this next guy might be The One, Luke shot off a quick message. He always tried to go with something more than the usual “Hey.”
Get Lucky: Hey, how are you? Welcome to the place where self-esteem comes to die.
A reply came back almost immediately.
Geek Guy: Well that’s cheerful.
Get Lucky: LOL sorry. I forgot I was supposed to be gentle. You caught me on a cynical day. Let’s start over… Hey, how are you?
Geek Guy: I’m good thanks, how are you?
Get Lucky: This is where the reply is usually “horny” FYI. Luke snorted at his own joke. It was true though.
Geek Guy: Haha. And are you?
Get Lucky: A bit. So Geek Guy, can I see a pic of your face?
Geek Guy: Um, yeah sure. Let me find one.
Luke sent his own face pic. It was his favourite selfie because he’d managed to smile without looking like a complete twat. He’d recently trimmed his beard, and had been having a good hair day. Luke wasn’t under any illusions about his attractiveness. His profile shot was of his torso, his chest was hairy, and his build was more “average” than “toned.” He was definitely more boy-next-door than cover model.
He waited. There was no reply for several minutes, and he was starting to wonder if Geek Guy had changed his mind after seeing Luke’s face. Or maybe he was talking to someone else who sounded more interesting in another chat.
Luke was about to give up and go back to watching Top Gear when a photo appeared.
Wow.
Geek Guy’s face was as pretty as his torso. He was clean-shaven, with light brown hair, and hazel eyes. A sweet, slightly shy smile curved plush pink lips that made Luke’s mind go to sexy places.
Get Lucky: Thanks. You’re hot.
Geek Guy: Sorry it took a while. I got distracted. And thanks. You’re hot too.
Get Lucky: I guess. If you like hairy guys who don’t work out ;)
Geek Guy: Jocks make me feel inadequate, and I love hairy chests.
Get Lucky: Cool.
Wanting to keep the conversation going, Luke quickly added: So, where do you live?
Geek Guy: Broad Leaze. You?
That was a suburb on the northern edge of the city, a little further out than Luke who lived east of the centre.
Get Lucky: Eastminster. Not too far away then.
As Luke tried to think where to steer the conversation next, Geek Guy beat him to it. That was a good sign; he was obviously keen to keep the chat going.
Geek Guy: What do you do for work?
Luke groaned. It was a sore subject at the moment. He’d been made redundant from his job at a mobile phone company recently and had been doing whatever temp jobs he could get to pay the bills for the last couple of months. His current job was the worst yet. No way was he going to tell a guy he was trying to impress that he spent his days dressed as Santa, so snotty brats could pull his beard while their proud parents took a million photos waiting for their hell-spawn to smile for the camera.
At least there was light at the end of the tunnel, because he had been offered a permanent job as a trainee pharmacy adviser starting in January. That couldn’t come soon enough as far as Luke was concerned. He decided to be vague on the details.
Get Lucky: I work in retail. How about you?
Geek Guy: Yeah, similar. Retail, but IT related.
Get Lucky: Hence the username?
Geek Guy: Yeah :)
There was a pause in the conversation then. Luke was so used to this now it was like following a script. Well… one of two scripts. You either had the chat where the answer to “how are you?” was “horny” which usually ended in dick pics and jerking off. Or you had the conversations like this one where you skirted around getting to know each other a bit before finally getting to the nitty gritty.
Being the experienced one here, Luke decided to take it to the next level.
Get Lucky: So, what are you looking for on here?
Geek Guy: Other than the annihilation of my self-esteem? ;)
Luke snorted. This guy was quick and funny. He liked that.
Get Lucky: Yep.
Geek Guy: I don’t know. A boyfriend is the ultimate goal I suppose. But mates or dates for starters.
His honesty was refreshing. Luke smiled. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d had a guy say that on here. Most of them were looking for a quick fuck, and if they were looking for more they were reluctant to admit it. They were too busy playing it cool and trying not to look needy.
Lost in thought, Luke suddenly remembered it was his turn to say something. He had nothing to lose, so thought he’d be up front. He knew from experience that if he wanted to meet a guy it was best to ask early on. Otherwise you often ended up chatting to someone for weeks, only to have him disappear into cyberspace.
Get Lucky: So, are you interested in meeting for coffee or a drink? Chatting on here is fun, but the only way to tell if there’s chemistry is to meet in person.
There was a pause, just long enough to make Luke’s heart sink. But then a new message flashed up.
Geek Guy: Yeah. Why not.
Get Lucky: So, when are you free? Evenings are best for me.
Luke’s current job was nine to six, six days a week. He got Monday off, when some other poor sod got to stand in for him. The pay wasn’t bad though, and the extra day each week meant he was earning more than in his last temp job in an office.
Geek Guy: Some evenings I work late, but not all.
Get Lucky: Got any free evenings this week?
He waited a minute or so, but Geek Guy had gone quiet. Hoping he hadn’t scared him away, Luke added: Sorry. Am I being too keen? I don’t mean to be pushy.
Geek Guy: No, no. It’s fine. I was actually just checking my work schedule.
Luke grinned, excitement starting to build at the prospect of an actual date. It had been a few weeks since he’d met a guy in person, and that one had been disappointing. They’d blown each other, but hadn’t really clicked so hadn’t kept in touch after.
Geek Guy: I can probably do Thursday evening if that’s any good?
Get Lucky: Yeah, that’s fine. Coffee? Beers? And what time?
Geek Guy: Um. Coffee? I can be free around half six depending where.
Get Lucky: Is Starbucks at Lakeview Centre okay for you? It wasn’t very exciting as a venue, but as it was where he worked, Luke could easily get there in time. And it wasn’t too far from where Geek Guy lived and was easy to get to by car or public transport, so it should be convenient for him as well.
Geek Guy: Yeah, that’s perfect.
Get Lucky: :)
Geek Guy: Sorry I’ve got to go now. It was nice talking to you, and I’ll see you on Thursday.
Get Lucky: Good night. Oh, what’s your name by the way? I’m Luke.
Geek Guy: I’m Theo. Night.
Luke scrolled back to look at the face pic Theo had sent. He smiled, eternal optimism burning bright again. Maybe this time it would lead to something better. Roll on Thursday. It was only a couple of days away.
Wild R Christmas by Silvia Violet
“Wes! Come help me!” Tristan shouted.
Wes pushed himself up from the couch where he’d been doing research for his latest case. “Just a sec.”
When he stepped into the hall, he froze in disbelief. Tristan was stuck in the doorway with at least three shopping bags in each hand. “What did you do?”
Tristan looked at him like he was a simpleton. “I went shopping.”
Wes sighed as he held the door open so Tristan could push through. Then he followed his lover to the living room where Tristan dropped the bags in the middle of the floor and plopped down beside them.
“I thought you went for a run. What the hell were you doing shopping on the day after Thanksgiving?”
Tristan again stared at Wes like maybe he’d been replaced by an alien, one without much brainpower. “Buying Christmas decorations, of course.”
“Christmas decorations?” Wes did not want to consider the possibility that all those bags were full of Santas, reindeer, and glittery balls. Tristan’s balls were all Wes required this Christmas.
“Sure. I thought we could put them up this afternoon.” Wes’s horror grew as
Tristan pulled out a red and green sweater. “Look what I got for Cole.” Tristan held up the offensive garment and Wes fought the urge to shrink backward. On the front was a wolf in a Santa suit surrounded by sheep wearing elf hats. It said “A Wolf in Santa’s Clothing.”
“That is… hideous.”
Tristan laughed. “I know. Isn’t it fantastic?”
“Tris, look… I don’t—”
“Check these out.” He held up lights shaped like reindeer. “They even blink.”
Wes knew arguing with Tristan was useless but he felt compelled to make a small effort anyway. “I usually just put a wreath on the door.”
Tristan gave him an innocent look, the little bastard. “Really?”
“Tristan.”
“Oh, it’s just a few little things,” Tristan said, clearly unconcerned about Wes’s frustration.
“Tell me you don’t have an album of cats meowing Christmas songs in there.”
Tristan put his hands on his hips, which looked ridiculous with him sitting on the floor surrounded by Christmas decor. “How insulting! Do you really not know I prefer the barking dogs? I find cats too… slinky.”
Wes groaned. “You’re going to be even more impossible than usual from now until Christmas, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to be festive.”
“A tree, stockings, maybe a few other small items. That’s festive enough. I can’t live in the middle of North Pole Central.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a scrooge.”
“Tristan, I will not—”
Tristan’s sly, sexy grin derailed Wes’s train of thought. “I’m sure I can change your mind.”
“You’re always so damn sure you can get your way.” And all too often he was right.
Tristan crawled across the floor, and talk about slinky, he looked more jaguar than stallion. Wes’s cock took immediate notice. Wes dropped his legs open, knowing Tristan was playing him but not caring. No matter how annoyed he was, he wasn’t going to turn his man down. Tristan settled himself between Wes’s thighs and put his hand on the fastening of his jeans. He caught Wes’s gaze, green eyes twinkling. “Christmas is the season of giving, sweetheart. Just tell me what you’d like me to give.”
“You’re offering sex in exchange for turning the house into Tacky Christmas Wonderland?”
Tristan popped Wes’s snap. “I am. Tell me what you want.”
“Tristan.” Wes tried to sound ominous but probably just sounded horny as hell.
Tristan slid his zipper down, not easy in that position considering how hard Wes was. He licked his lips and looked into Wes’s eyes. “You want to tie me up? Paddle me? Tell me what it’s gonna cost.”
Wes’s breath caught as Tristan ran a finger over his cock, which was still trapped behind his boxer briefs. “This is insane.”
“I give something, you give something. What’s insane about that?” With a mischievous smile, Tristan opened Wes’s jeans wider and pulled his cock free.
Alpha's Solstice by Susi Hawke
Prologue
The Phone Call
“Hello?” Kai answered the phone as he grabbed the leather whip out of his pup’s hand and replaced it with a more appropriate rubber ball. Honestly. Aunt Cat really needed to quit leaving her office door open. Either that, or put things like that out of the pups’ reach.
“Hey, Kai. This is Taylor, is now a good time?” Taylor’s voice was a welcome sound. They talked way too little lately. Most of their interactions were on social media.
“This is as good a time as any. I’m just chasing pups right now. My youngest had a whip in his hand, courtesy of Aunt Cat’s office, I assume. You know how two-year olds are, anything they shouldn’t have is the first thing they grab.”
Taylor’s giggle came across the line. “By Fenris, I miss that lady! How is she? And Doc? Are they good?”
“They’re just fine. We all are. How about you? Are things going okay over at the den?” Kai watched as his son bounced the ball off the nursery wall.
“Things are good. You should come over and visit one of these days. You’d be surprised at how relaxed a lot of the bears are around here these days. But let me get to the point before one of those pups of yours pulls you away.”
Kai laughed. It was true. With eleven pups ranging in age from two to seventeen, it was inevitable that one of them would be pulling him away any time now. “Good point. What can I do for you? You looking for pups to adopt? I can spare some teens. Please. Take them. Really, it’s not a problem.”
“Umm, hell no? I have six brats of my own! Darla is just a few months old and Alec is turning twelve in a few months. I’m enjoying the little bit of time that I have left before I have to deal with that teen shit. I have enough to deal with just trying to stay sane as it is, you know?” Taylor drummed his fingertips on the table in front of him and got back to the reason he’d called his old pack leader’s mate.
“So, Kai. I’ll get to the point. It’s been ten years since we all joined together to fight the rogues. We were all too emotionally fried to do anything to celebrate back then, but I was thinking that now is a good time to finally do it. And isn’t Winter Solstice really just the best time of year to celebrate love, peace, friendship, fertility, and all that good shit? I was thinking that we should join up and plan something special this year for Winter Solstice. Something big that would involve all of our people.”
“Oh, wow. That’s actually a really good idea, Taylor.” Kai sat down on the floor and rolled the ball to his son. The little guy was getting bored of playing by himself, so hopefully this would buy Kai a few more minutes on the phone. “Do you already have something in mind, or do you want to get together and start planning?”
“All I have in mind right now is that we do a three-day festival. Your pack could host ours for a big party on your property one day and celebrate Fenris, our den would host you guys the following day to honor Artio, and then we spend the night before Solstice out in the woods. Do a big run in the moonlight in our animal skins, then we could all watch the Solstice sunrise together.”
Taylor bit his lip anxiously. He wasn’t sure if this was as good an idea as he thought it was, and it was kinda of scary to put himself out there like this. Even after spending over a decade as Alpha Mate, Taylor still sometimes felt like the weird twink who didn’t fit in anywhere.
“Taylor, are you kidding me with this stuff? I think that’s an awesome idea! What day does the Solstice fall on, though? My only concern is getting everyone free for three days.” The excitement in Kai’s voice bounced right through the phone, making Taylor breathe a sigh of relief.
“Solstice is on a Monday this year, so everyone should have a three-day weekend anyway. I figured we have three months to plan it if we start now, so it should be easy enough, right?” Taylor smiled and waved as his cousin Walt came in and sat down at the table with a weird look on his face. “I’ll get a couple people to help on my end, you get your besties to help you over there, and let’s meet next weekend to compare notes and make a firm plan. What do you say?”
“I say it sounds perfect,” Kai breathed into the phone as the sudden sharp wailing of his pup filled the room. He pulled his cranky pup onto his lap and rubbed small circles on his back while he talked. “Crap. Jett is ready for his nap. Text me some times that you have free to meet, and I’ll pick one. Do you want to come here? Or shall I go there? I’m good either way.”
“Why don’t we meet in Mills Creek? We can get soup at the cafe and have a break from all of our brats.” Speaking of which, Taylor heard his own little one stirring in her room over the baby monitor. Before he could move, Walt was already on his feet and heading in there. Taylor smiled fondly at his cousin’s retreating back.
“That’s a great idea. I wouldn’t mind having some of whatever soup Colin is serving anyway. I haven’t been there in way too long.”
“Yeah, that’s why I suggested it. I’m always looking for an excuse to get in there. Colin knows that I’m addicted to his soups.” Taylor heard the pup crying now, so he rushed off the phone to let Kai handle his little guy. “Go take care of Jett, I’ll text you. I’m so excited we’re doing this! I can’t wait to tell Mikael. Okay. Talk to you soon!”
Kai chuckled. “Okay, Tay. Talk to you soon.” He clicked off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. This was going to be great. But first, Kai had a pup to soothe.
Taylor was equally happy on his end and had just set his phone down as Walt came in carrying his sleepy-eyed cub. Reaching for his little princess, Taylor took her and cuddled her close while he looked at Walt’s bemused face.
“Talk to me, Walt. Why do you look like you just discovered that the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus really exist?”
Walt turned to his cousin with shiny eyes and shook his head. “Maybe they are real! You aren’t going to believe this, Taylor. Especially after twelve years. I mean, that’s nothing for a beta and omega pairing, but still. I never thought in a million years that this would happen to me.”
“What would happen to you? Are you okay? Are those boys of yours giving you a hard time? I mean, teenagers, am I right?”
Walt shook his head and looked at Taylor. His voice barely registered above a whisper as he spoke almost reverently. “Taylor. Believe it or not, I just found out that I’m finally pregnant. After all these years, Pete and I are having a baby.”
Angels in the City by Garrett Leigh
Chapter One
The start of the festive season had always been the bane of Jonah Gray’s life. Or at least for as long as he’d been old enough to attend the annual winter ball his parents hosted for the charity foundation attached to their city law firm. He didn’t even work for Gray & Gray anymore, hadn’t done since he’d quit his postgraduate internship four years ago, and yet here he was, flapping around at the last minute, carrying the same disquiet and anxiety he had at sixteen.
Calm down. If they try and pair you off with Edward again, just tell them you’ve changed your mind about being gay. Tell them you’re sleeping with Lily.
The thought made Jonah laugh as much as it would Lily Dawson, his long-time BFF and partner-in-crime, but his amusement did nothing to make the prospect of the long evening ahead of him any less daunting. He loved his parents…mostly, and he was proud of the charity they’d created with their ridiculous wealth, but Christ, no one had warned him being single and gay would be no less pressured than if he’d been straight. “You can’t cavort around the city forever, Jonah. It’s time to grow up.”
Nice. As if founding his own advertising agency and working eighteen-hour days to get it off the ground hadn’t been enough. Now he had to attach himself to one of the three queer bachelors his parents had deemed a suitable match and make a happy gay family just to satisfy other people.
Jonah fiddled with his bow tie one last time and stepped out of his glass office. As usual, he was the last to leave. Only a solitary member of the cleaning crew was there to wish him goodnight.
“Have a good evening, Mr. Gray,” he said.
Jonah nodded. “You too, Curtis. There are leftover cupcakes in the lounge, and coffee in the pot. Please help yourself. Take the cupcakes home if you wish.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gray.”
“You’re welcome.” Jonah left his company offices behind and headed for the lifts that would take him to his waiting car. His legs felt heavy and he’d have given anything to bypass the limo and take a cab home. Even a night alone with his left hand was preferable to the corporate bullshit he was about to endure. Add in the matchmaking he was fairly sure his mother had already started weeks ago, and he was pretty much ready to throw himself in front of the next London bus.
Drama queen.
Without doubt. And it was out of character for Jonah. On a normal day, he prided himself on his cool composure. Of his ability to steer any ship in any crisis and guide it safely to dry land, but the annual G&G ball unsettled him like nothing else ever could.
“…come on,” the older man crooned. “It’s just a quick fuck. I won’t tell anyone, not even your mother.”
Jonah shuddered. Nine years had passed since he’d wrestled those groping hands out of his trousers, but every time this night came around on his calendar, he was right back there, pressed against a wall, choking on the scent of fear and expensive cologne.
So stop thinking about it. Maybe he won’t be there this year and you can quaff champagne and canapés in peace. And in any case, he was just fucking handsy. Lily’s had worse taking the Tube.
That wasn’t entirely accurate, but the lift arrived, and the muted ding broke into the thoughts Jonah usually kept under control. He squared his shoulders and stepped into the empty elevator. His reflection distracted him and he couldn’t deny he looked good in his Armani tux. Black and white suited his auburn hair and green eyes, but Christ, wasn’t cataloguing his features in a mirror the worst kind of cliché?
Jonah turned away from himself and refocused on Curtis, tracking the old man as he moved the vacuum cleaner around the offices of Flash Gray, navigating his way past the vomit of festive decorations Jonah had allowed his staff to put up that afternoon. There wasn’t a bauble out of place in the red and gold colour scheme—the benefit of keeping his creative team close. Jonah wasn’t sure he could’ve handled the chaos of tinsel the app development firm in the offices next door had gone with. It was enough to make his eyeballs twitch as the lift doors began to close.
Hurried footsteps startled him. Jonah blinked, gaze still fixed on Curtis. He was in Jonah’s office, pushing the vacuum cleaner around. The footsteps belonged to someone else—someone with an expensive wristwatch, and elegant fingers that forced the lift doors open.
A tall figure stepped inside, almost shoulder-barging Jonah out of the way. Jonah stepped back and caught a lungful of clean cotton and musk. And then his vision filled with a long, lean streak of a man who was the epitome of every fantasy Jonah had ever had. Broad-shouldered, with a dark, unshaven jaw, and gold-flecked eyes that swam with wry amusement.
“Apologies,” the man said with the barest hint of an accent Jonah couldn’t place. “I did not mean to make you stumble.”
“You didn’t, but call out next time and I’ll hold it for you. There’s no need to run like a crazy person.”
The man’s lips twitched. Jonah stared at them, his blood heating in ways he was sorely unprepared for, especially tonight. He forced himself to look away and press the button for the ground floor again. “This good for you? Or are you getting off somewhere else?”
“It is good.”
Jonah nodded and fixed his gaze straight ahead again, trying to ignore the presence of the sinfully attractive man beside him. He had to have come from the app company next door, but Jonah was one hundred percent certain he was either a visitor, or brand new. He wasn’t a regular employee—he couldn’t be. The app company kept odd hours sometimes, but so did Jonah, and there was no way this man had been coming and going from the top floor of this building without Jonah noticing.
In fact, without everyone noticing and talking about it, because whoever the man was, there was no red-blooded human alive who wouldn’t agree he was hot enough to stop traffic.
Jonah snuck another glance at him, taking in his sharp features and unshaven jaw. His rich, brown hair was unstyled, and had a slight wave to it, the kind of tousle that made him look as though he’d just got out of bed after a long night of—
The lift jolted. Jonah sucked in a sharp breath and darted a quick glance down, checking the warmth blooming in his gut hadn’t travelled too far south, then zeroed in on the control panel of the lift. It was frozen between floors and the lift wasn’t moving. “Damn. Are we stuck?”
“Maybe.” The handsome stranger reached across Jonah and pressed a few buttons. Nothing happened. “Has this happened before?”
“In this building? Never. You don’t work here then?”
Smooth. As if that’s relevant right now.
“I started today,” the man replied absently, his attention still trained on the control panel. “No one warned me that you had Soviet technology here too.”
Soviet. Russian. The man’s accent solidified and more inappropriate heat pulsed through Jonah. He tempered it with a heavy dose of their reality. They were trapped in a lift of a building where everyone had gone home. Only a single security officer remained, and Jonah was fairly sure he’d be asleep by now, dozing in front of his console by the front door, like he always was when Jonah left in the evenings. “I doubt these lifts are Soviet-made. This building is twenty years old.”
“I was joking, no?”
“Oh.”
“It’s okay. I am not often funny.”
The glint in the Russian man’s eyes made it hard to tell if he was still being humorous. A grin warmed Jonah’s face, but he kept it small. “I’m not known for my hilarity either. Is there a call button we can press?”
“There’s an alarm button, and a phone number. The alarm seems a little…”
“Unnecessary?”
“Yes. Unnecessary.”
“And there’s no one here to hear it. Samson won’t wake up unless a bomb goes off.”
“Samson?”
“The security officer,” Jonah supplied. “He’ll be asleep by now.”
“Diligent.”
“Oh, he is. But he’s sixty-nine and he just had a triple-heart bypass, so I give him some slack. I’d rather he was awake at midnight when there’s no one around.”
“You sound important.”
“Do I?”
The Russian man leaned close enough for Jonah to get another whiff of his natural scent. “Yes. Does the security officer work for you?”
“In a roundabout way. My family owns this building.”
“Ah, old money.”
Jonah laughed. “Something like that. I’m going to call that number. I don’t know about you, but I have somewhere I’m supposed to be.”
The man didn’t answer. He stepped back to give Jonah room and retreated to his own corner of the cramped elevator. He was carrying a laptop case and an overcoat. He set both down and leaned against the wall, the picture of smooth relaxation.
Jonah allowed himself another quick glance at him, saturating himself in his unshaven jaw and cut cheekbones, then forced himself to focus on the automated voice at the end of the line.
Five minutes later, a friendly woman in Oxfordshire told him help was at least thirty minutes away. “Apologies, Mr. Gray. Our team is already out on a job in Knightsbridge.”
“You have only one team?”
“Tonight, sir. Yes.”
“Oh well. I suppose we’ll survive.”
“Can I take the name of your companions, Mr. Gray?”
“Of course. There is only one. A Mr…?”
The Russian man held up a security lanyard Jonah had failed to notice hanging around his elegant neck. It was brand new and the grainy photograph didn’t begin to do his chiselled face justice. His name was Sacha.
Sacha Ivanov.
Jonah repeated the name into the phone. Sacha Ivanov smirked as Jonah tripped over his surname and turned his gold-flecked eyes to the ceiling.
Wincing, Jonah ended the call. “Sorry, did I say it wrong?”
“No. It’s just amusing to hear an English boy speak my name.”
“Boy?”
“Man. Whatever. Are we going to grow old in here together?”
Jonah licked his lips, a subconscious run of his tongue where he would prefer Sacha Ivanov’s. Wow. Where did that come from?
A dry spell of three months, probably. Jonah didn’t have time for romance, and heavy work hours, and then building anxiety about tonight, had put him off hooking up for a while. “We’re not going to die unless you expire within the next thirty minutes. Think you can survive that long?”
“That depends on your company, I suppose, Mr. Gray.”
“And that’s how a Russian boy says my name, eh?”
“You think I am a boy?”
Jonah shrugged. “Maybe not. But my name sounds far more interesting when you say it.”
“You are very interesting to me, Jonah. Can I call you that?”
“Might as well. We’re going to be here a while. Would you like me to call you Sacha? Or Mr. Ivanov?”
“Sacha is fine in these circumstances. Mr. Ivanov is for…other things.”
Jonah’s pulse quickened. The sensation that the Russian was toying with him was overwhelming. And thrilling, which was ridiculous, as it was far more likely that he was taking the royal piss rather than flirting. But still. Heat rose in Jonah and he couldn’t fight it. Sacha Ivanov was gorgeous. Literally, the stuff of his every fantasy. “Sacha it is, then.”
“Indeed.”
Sacha was still leaning against the wall. His expensive suit hung off him like sorcery, letting Jonah know a rocking body lurked beneath—long legs, a strong chest, perfect abs. Jonah wondered if the dark hair on his head dusted other places and had to look away, though he found nothing in particular to focus on. The lift interior was rather dull, unless he wanted another stare down with his own face.
He settled for folding himself into a seated position on the floor, thankful the elevator had been cleaned already that evening. He stretched his legs out in front of him and scowled at his shiny dress shoes. Though he wore suits to work every day, he paired them with boots, a formality mismatch that left him less vulnerable to wet British winters. Functionality versus Saville Row. It also made him less like the toff penguin some of his younger employees took him to be. He was twenty-six for God’s sake, not fifty, and his current footwear made him feel like his dad.
“You do not like your shoes?”
Jonah darted his gaze up to find Sacha had mirrored his pose to sit opposite him, his legs stretching out beside Jonah’s. He wore boots, scuffed and dark brown. Jonah wanted to unlace them and ghost his hands up Sacha’s legs, and—
Stop it. Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you?
Nothing that anyone else wouldn’t likely feel when trapped in a confined space with someone as gorgeous as Sacha Ivanov, but Sacha’s gaze was so penetrating it seemed he might see Jonah’s every thought before he computed them himself, and that would be far more embarrassing than the shiny shoes on his feet. “I have a function tonight. I don’t usually wear get-up like this.”
“Get-up?”
“Clothing. Attire. These shoes aren’t my thing.”
“They are nice.”
“You think?”
“Yes, but if they are not…your thing, why wear them?” “
My parents are hosting a ball at the Dorchester. I am going to irritate them enough by attending alone, so it won’t do to draw attention to my sartorial choices too.”
“Ah, I see.” Sacha nodded as though it made perfect sense to him. Perhaps it did. His wristwatch and overcoat gave him away as a man who knew the finer things in life. “You could not get a date?”
Jonah snorted. “Oh, I could have. Just not one that I wanted.”
“No girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
Jonah shook his head. “Unfortunately no. My parents would’ve liked that, though. It bothers them that I don’t bring men home like I did girls when I was younger—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Sorry. That was more revealing than I intended it to be.”
Sacha shrugged. “It makes sense to me.”
“It does? How so?” “They probably think you have some internalised homophobia. You should not be shy about bringing your men home, Jonah Gray, if they are nice men, no?”
Jonah snorted, his mind tracking back to the last date he’d had, if you could call it that. The man had been well-dressed and rich, but closeted and engaged to a girl whose father played bridge with Jonah’s at the exclusive member’s club in Mayfair Jonah had spent his entire adult life avoiding. The man had fucked Jonah seven ways from Sunday, but with the prerequisite that Jonah never told a soul. “I don’t meet many nice men.”
“That is a shame.”
“Isn’t it?” Jonah turned his gaze to the ceiling, studying the panels as though they were the most interesting thing in the world. The night was ticking away. With any luck, by the time they were rescued, the limo waiting for him outside would’ve moved on, leaving him no choice but to hope every cab in the city was booked and unavailable. Maybe he could go home, take this ridiculous tux off and spend the night alone in his apartment. The prospect of a lonely night in private was only marginally more appealing than one in public, though, and a heavy sigh bloomed in Jonah’s chest.
He swallowed it down and cast his attention back to Sacha, curious about why he wasn’t doing what the rest of the world did when it had a split second to itself and poking at his phone. “What grand plans are you being kept from? Is there someone waiting for you tonight?”
Sacha shook his head. “No one is waiting to take me to a ball at the Dorchester, or anywhere else. I was going nowhere but home for the night.” “I’m jealous.”
“You don’t like parties?” Jonah shrugged.
“Not this kind.” “Shame. I like champagne and those tiny foods…what are they called?”
“Canapés?”
“Yes. Canapés. I like those.”
“You’d like my mother then. She’s obsessed with getting them just right.”
“Is there a wrong type of canapé?”
Again, it was hard to tell if Sacha was being serious. He had the kind of eyes that gleamed with whatever mood he might be in, but that didn’t make said mood any easier to decipher. And, of course, Jonah didn’t know him. Beneath his dry smile, there was every chance he was raging about the half hour he’d lost to Jonah and the broken lift.
Angry men don’t make small talk about canapés. Then again, Jonah hadn’t been expecting to either in any conversation that didn’t involve Eleanor Gray. Like, ever. “Tell you what, if you like them so much you can take my car to the Dorchester when we get out of here and eat all the canapés you desire.”
“You say it like it is a joke.” Sacha’s rakish grin widened. “Like you would not come with me.”
Jonah laughed. “I could do worse for a date, I suppose.”
“You could do much worse, Jonah Gray.”
“You don’t have to address me by my whole name every time.”
“Twice. Be accurate if you’re going to chastise me.”
“Okay. Twice. Whatever. You can just call me Jonah.”
“I like your whole name.”
“I like yours too.”
Sacha licked his lips—a tiny dart of his tongue, barely visible had Jonah’s gaze not been so intense. But it was snowballing, fixed and deep. He couldn’t look away, and inexplicably, the flutters of heat rippling through him were beginning to coalesce in his groin. Do not get wood. Do not get wood. Do not get wood.
He bent his knees to hide his predicament.
Sacha smirked, but the lift groaned before he could speak, lurching into action and knocking them both off balance.
The elevator descended, lights flickering like a horror film. Sacha stood and held out his hand to Jonah.
Lacking any brighter ideas, Jonah took it and rose, with the blaze of Sacha’s touch scorching a path from his palm to the place he was trying to ignore. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And it was not thirty minutes. Perhaps you will make your party after all.”
“There’s still time for you to accompany me.” The words left Jonah’s mouth before he could catch them, spilling freely into the world beyond his control. “I mean, if you’d like to. You said you were headed nowhere but home.”
“And you said you were jealous. You could leave your party and accompany me.”
“Are you asking me to come home with you, Sacha Ivanov?”
The lift stilled and the doors opened. Sacha took a breath before he stepped out. “Another time, perhaps. I do not wish to be the reason your mother is upset.”
Jonah followed him out and past Samson and the gaggle of apologetic engineers. He waved them away and trailed Sacha to the revolving doors that led out onto the street. Cold air hit him as he stepped outside, and seemed to take with it the remnants of the banter they’d shared in the lift. This was the real world. Of course Sacha Ivanov wasn’t going to climb into the waiting limo with him. Nor was Jonah going to school his features into a serious expression and ask.
And in any case, Sacha was no longer looking at him. He was finally engrossed in his phone, his expression nothing like the easy amusement he’d so casually thrown Jonah’s way.
Go. It’s not like you won’t see him again if he’s working in the same building. But Jonah’s shiny-shoed feet didn’t move. They stayed rooted in place while Sacha scowled at whatever was irritating him on his phone.
The limo idled on the pavement like a shiny elephant. Jonah nodded to the driver, signalling that he’d seen them. Then he touched Sacha’s arm, lightly enough that he could still walk away if Sacha didn’t respond.
Sacha’s glittering gaze flickered from his phone screen. A ghost of a frown darkened his features, then it was gone, as if it had never been there. “You are still here.”
“So are you.”
Sacha smirked. “Perhaps I’m waiting for you to make good on your promise of canapés.”
A laugh burst free from Jonah’s chest. “Seriously? We’re back to canapés already?”
“Is a serious matter, no?”
“Okay, okay. I can take them seriously, but only if you really do come with me. It would be a shame to waste your killer suit on a day at the office.”
“My killer suit?”
“It’s nice,” Jonah clarified. “It looks good on you.”
For a long moment, Sacha said nothing. The pause stretched out to the edge of discomfort and Jonah began to wonder if he’d made a horrible, embarrassing mistake. Then Sacha rolled his elegant shoulders and offered Jonah his arm. “All right then, Jonah Gray. We will go to the ball.”
A Faerie Story by Barbara Elsborg
Prologue
When three men were boys
Kaegan
Kaegan curled up in the centre of the werethorne bushes, gritting his teeth as the spiky barbs sought a way through his clothes. It was the first place he’d found to hide that his brother might not think to check because no one would be stupid enough to crawl into somewhere so uncomfortable, let alone mildly poisonous.
His heart pounded so hard it ached. Herne was crashing around not even trying to be quiet, convinced it was only a matter of time before he found Kaegan. No point trying to make himself unseen because Herne would sense the disturbance in the air and be on him in a flash.
“Come out, come out wherever you are.” Herne’s sing-song voice was riddled with malice.
Kaegan didn’t even blink. One of the werethorne’s berries hung right next to his mouth and his lips had already begun to swell. As long as he didn’t spend too long in the bushes, he’d be fine. Otherwise he’d be covered in purple spots for days and the butt of everyone’s jokes.
“I know you’re there.”
Kaegan stopped breathing. He only allowed himself to exhale when he heard his brother moving away. Once Kaegan had turned his head from the berry, his lips thanked him. He was so tired of this, the constant torment, the not knowing when or where Herne would choose to ambush him. Kaegan had delayed leaving school today thinking he’d avoid the punishment promised for doing better than Herne in a test, but Herne had caught up with him on the route home, causing Kaegan to bolt across the meadow and into the werethorne patch.
“You better run, little rabbit.” Herne sounded closer.
Despite telling himself not to move a muscle, despite knowing the slightest twitch could give him away, Kaegan’s body sensed oncoming pain and he found himself curling into a tighter ball. A twig snapped. No! He was tempted to make a break for it, but what was the point? Herne was bigger, faster, physically stronger, and almost always caught him in the end.
“It’s no fun if you don’t run.” Herne heaved Kaegan out of the bushes by the scruff of his neck then sat on his legs, pinning him to the ground. His eyes glittered. Not a good sign.
Kaegan swallowed hard when a silver-bladed knife appeared in his brother’s hand.
“If you don’t run, how can I use you for target practice?”
Last week Herne had chased after him, throwing several long thin knives. They’d whistled past Kaegan’s ears until one had hit him in the backside—not a miss-throw—and brought him crashing down, much to his brother’s amusement.
“Let’s play noughts and crosses.” Herne dragged the blade down Kaegan’s arm, ripping his shirt, leaving a line of ruby-red beads on his skin.
Kaegan sucked in a breath at the biting pain.
“Want to be a nought or a cross?” Herne grinned.
A smile from Herne always meant trouble. Maybe more trouble than a scowl because when his brother was pissed off, he made mistakes Kaegan could sometimes twist to his advantage.
“Choose.” Herne glared.
Kaegan’s silence was one of his few effective weapons. Though not very effective because Herne drew another line parallel to the first. Deeper. Kaegan bit his lip to stop himself crying out.
Herne drew the knife twice across the two lines to make a bright red grid. Kaegan tried to wriggle free, but with Herne’s weight on his body, his knees pressing onto Kaegan’s hands, his brother had no trouble keeping him where he was.
“I’ll be the cross.” Herne cut the mark in the centre square. “Where do you want your nought?”
Drop dead.
“Not going to tell me? I’ll decide for you.”
He cut Kaegan again. Blood trickled down his arm onto the grass and Kaegan felt the earth groan. The elements were the few things in this world that truly loved him. He thought about pulling on his magic, then thought again.
Ironic that he was supposed to be the most powerful faerie in the kingdom but wasn’t allowed to use his magic against another faerie. Unfair and infuriating with a brother like Herne who was always trying to provoke him into retaliating. If he did fight back, it was always Kaegan who was punished, even for giving Herne the slightest mental shove. He was careful to avoid injuring his brother though Herne exaggerated every bruise whether inflicted by Kaegan or not. Kaegan’s other problem was that he wasn’t good at controlling the power he had. His father said it would come with age. All Kaegan wanted was to be like every other faerie.
“You’re such a disappointment,” Herne hissed. “Three hours and I’d have had the power and I’d know what to do with it.”
As the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son Kaegan should have been a wonder. Instead he seemed to be a disappointment to everyone but his father. To his twin brother, Herne, born three hours before him, and therefore the sixth son, Kaegan was an abomination.
“No wonder no one wants to be your friend,”
Herne snarled. Herne had made sure of that, telling lies about Kaegan from the moment he learned to talk. Before he learned to talk. Crying and rubbing his arm when they’d lain side by side in the crib as if Kaegan had pinched him when it was the other way around. Their mother had favoured Herne from the beginning. The more beautiful child, the stronger one, the one who adored her, the one who gave her his first words. Kaegan hadn’t spoken until he was four. Even now, many thought him mute because he rarely chose to speak.
Herne cut him again and again while Kaegan stared into his brother’s face without blinking, his fury bubbling toward explosion. I hate you so much. If Kaegan hadn’t been pretty sure the penalty for throwing Herne to the other side of the field would be a lengthy imprisonment or worse, he’d have done it, assuming he actually could do it.
“Look! I won!” Herne joined three crosses with one long slice of his knife and beamed at him. “Let’s play again, but on your face.”
Kaegan’s fury snapped into uncontrolled rage. As Herne slashed at him, Kaegan grabbed the knife, flicked it round and struck Herne’s arm. Well, that was what he meant to do. But he missed his arm, hit Herne’s face and his brother screamed.
“What are you two doing?”
That was the voice of their oldest brother, Farun.
Kaegan scrambled to his feet. Herne lay on the ground groaning, clutching his face and there was so much blood… Farun gave Kaegan a horrified look and scooped Herne into his arms. Kaegan ran. He ignored Farun’s calls and headed towards Diamond Beach where there were lots of caves he could hide in.
As he raced down onto the sand, he saw a few of Farun’s friends kicking a ball and realised he’d have to go all the way around the headland so they wouldn’t see where he hid. A risk when the tide was on the turn. Eventually, Farun would come after him and pick up his friends on the way. Kaegan ran past the first few caves. If they wasted time searching those, they might worry about getting cut off and give up. He sprinted to a small distant cave he’d been in before and darted inside.
When he risked a glance back, he saw no one in pursuit. He made his footprints disappear so he didn’t give himself away, then climbed up several feet onto a ledge. He lay on the wet slab with his heart pounding and peered through a small hole in the rock that gave a view of the beach. This wasn’t a place he could stay in for long. The incoming sea would fill the cave to the roof. All he was doing was delaying the inevitable.
Kaegan put his hand on his arm and healed the cuts, biting his lips against the pain as his skin knitted together. One of the few things he was good at. Just as well when Herne was always finding a way to hurt him.
Oh God, Herne. Your face… What have I done?
He continued to watch through the narrow gap and it wasn’t long before Farun and his friends rounded the headland. His brother directed one into the first cave. It hadn’t occurred to Kaegan that they’d split up. He gulped.
Please, please. Kaegan pressed himself down against the rock slab, pleading with the spirit of the stone. Hide me somewhere safe. The sound of Farun calling his name filled him with fear. What did I do to Herne? What will they do to me? Kaegan muttered every entreaty he could think of, pulled on his magic, and suddenly felt himself falling.
For a long moment, he thought he’d tumbled from the rock, but he found himself curled up in a place he didn’t recognise, one where it was night time. When the blinding pain in his head faded, he registered he was crouched in a doorway in another world, one where beauty fell from the sky. Big, fat white flakes fluttered to the ground and Kaegan’s jaw dropped. Snow! He’d read about it, but never seen it. He pushed himself to his feet but his knees shook so violently, he had to put a hand against the door to steady himself.
This place had high-rise buildings, glittering glass towers, fast-moving vehicles and so many people. Kaegan looked out of place. His shirt was ripped and bloody, his trousers too thin and he was barefoot. He didn’t feel cold but he couldn’t blend in looking like this. He was afraid to call on his magic here, afraid to move from the doorway in case he couldn’t find his way back to it. What if he couldn’t get home? No one would know where he’d gone.
Do I want to go home?
His heart calmed.
He stood marvelling at the flakes falling from the sky and put out his hand. When one landed on his palm, it melted to a drop of water and as he licked it up, someone opened the door behind him and Kaegan jolted forward.
“Sorry, kid,” a man said and walked off down the street.
Kaegan wanted to explore. Just a little bit. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn’t return yet. He might find himself trapped in a cave filled with water. He moved out of the doorway and examined it carefully. There was a name on a metal rectangle. SMS Systems. Directly across the street was a shop selling candles. Kaegan risked walking a little way away from his gateway, then looked back to check the door was still there. It was.
Don’t get lost.
The snow wasn’t settling on the pavement, though he wished it would. Kaegan tipped back his head and opened his mouth, catching the flakes on his tongue. Snow was the most magical thing he’d ever seen.
He walked down the street and emerged onto a far busier road, unlike anything in Faerieland. Big and small vehicles moved in both directions. Crowds of people of all shapes and sizes bustled along carrying bags and parcels. The shop windows were enormous, full of colourful, interesting things. Everywhere looked bright and shining.
He tipped his head up and gasped. Overhead, huge blue and gold winged creatures, studded with twinkling lights, soared the length of the street. Faeries? No, angels. Kaegan stood with his mouth open. Music poured from the stores. Christmas. Information about this world was sparse in Faerieland but Kaegan had read everything he could about it, talked to those elderly faeries who’d visited. He’d been led to believe it was a bad place but that didn’t seem true.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” A woman stopped in front of him. “Where’s your mummy and daddy? What happened to your shoes? Have you had an accident?”
Kaegan didn’t know how to respond. If he said the wrong thing, he might get into trouble.
“I…I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice croaky through lack of use.
“No you’re not. It’s snowing. You’ve no shoes, no coat. How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“And your mother lets you dye your hair.” She tsked. “There’s blood on your shirt, on your arm. Shall I call for help?”
“No, home is close. Thank you.”
“Do you have money to get back?”
He shook his head again. The woman pulled out her purse and handed him a piece of paper. No, not paper. Money. Ten pounds. “Thank you.”
“I know this is probably a scam, but…” She sighed and walked away.
I should have put myself in a coat and shoes. A hat. Risked using my magic. There were too many people around to do it now. He walked a little way along the street looking into the shop windows, checking out the clothes, taking in what he needed to wear. He decided to try a little magic and give himself shoes at least and when he was in the midst of a group of people, he did just that. No one reacted. There were no signs of disturbance and he heaved a sigh of relief.
He added a sweater and a hat in the next twenty yards. His white-blond hair, tipped with blue, stood out in this world. As did his ears. He didn’t dare risk doing anything about those. He might end up looking like an elephant. An animal he’d only seen in books.
Every so often, he turned and looked back to make sure he could recognise the street he’d come from. The longer he walked, the more confident he became. He checked out every store he passed. In one window, he saw a big ball with snow swirling inside it and at the base, a penguin turning in a circle on an ice floe. There were smaller glass balls all around with different contents. They were so beautiful that he couldn’t resist going into the shop.
“Can I help you?” a man asked.
Kaegan saw the man didn’t trust him and he took the money from his pocket. “I’d like to buy a snow world, please.”
“A snow globe? Which one?”
Kaegan sucked in a breath when he took in the large display behind the counter. “Which can I afford?” He offered the man the note.
“Which would you like?” The man sounded kinder now. Perhaps he’d worried Kaegan would steal from him.
“The one…with the three boys playing in the snow. Can I afford that?”
The man lifted it from the shelf and put it on the counter. “Yes.”
Kaegan picked it up, shook it and smiled when he saw the snow swirl. Not real. But still… “This please. I’d like this.”
The man wrapped it up for him in tissue paper. “Here you go. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Words he repeated to strangers as he walked down the street. Kaegan loved this world, full of fascinating things. It made his heart sing. Someone he didn’t know had given him money. Maybe because she felt sorry for him but it was very kind. Now he had something special from this world to take home.
He shuddered. I have to go home. He had to face up to what he’d done. He shouldn’t have healed his arm and then at least his parents would have seen what Herne had done. Running meant he’d given Herne time to lie.
Kaegan slowly made his way back to the doorway. Enough time should have passed that the tide would have been in and gone out again. Now he had to hope he could persuade the door to let him back through. He did what he’d done before. Mentally pushed, asked politely and he found himself back on the ledge. The cave entrance was covered by water but to his relief, the tide had turned. He reluctantly made his sweater, hat and shoes disappear, but not his snow globe. Now all he had to do was wait.
It was dark by the time he emerged onto the beach. No sign of Farun or his friends. Or the gardie. The faerie police. Kaegan wished he had a safe place to leave the globe but outside his room, he didn’t. He crept back to the house, climbed in through his bedroom window and put the globe under the board in the floor where he’d hidden other treasures—his special curled shell, the pieces of polished glass, the feather from the iren bird… Then he put the board back in place.
He went back out of the window and round to the front door. The moment he entered the house, Farun emerged from the dining room and shouted, “He’s back.”
His mother came into the hall, spitting with fury. “Where have you been?”
“The tide cut me off. Is… Is Herne okay?”
“Okay? Okay?” It was as if she turned into a swirling ball of snakes. “You slice open your brother’s face. You blind him in one eye, run away and now you ask if he’s okay? You are a despicable coward.”
I blinded him? Kaegan pressed his hand to his mouth.
His father joined his mother in the doorway. “What happened to you? Where’s all that blood come from? Did Herne cut you?”
“Don’t make this about Kaegan,” his mother snapped. “One son blinded by another. How are we to explain that?” She turned to Kaegan. “Get out of my sight.”
Kaegan gulped and fled to his room. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t put in prison. He hadn’t meant to do that to Herne. He’d been defending himself. Except he shouldn’t have. He knew the rules. Kaegan wished he could run back to the world he’d left, where it was Christmas and everyone was happy. Could he survive there on his own? Not while he was a child.
He understood he’d been thrown a rope that could save him or maybe hang him. Making a gateway was forbidden by royal edict. But even if anyone found out what he could do, apart from having to catch him, how could any punishment he might be given make his life worse? Herne already hated him, what would he be like now? But I’ve discovered a place to hide where no one will find me. That thought gave him hope.
Pascal
Pascal and his older brother Étienne sat on the floor of the chalet surrounded by Christmas presents and torn paper. Their parents had unwrapped their gifts in a much more leisurely way and still had quite a few to open. Étienne’s biggest present was new skis. Pascal’s was a telescope, but now he’d seen his brother’s skis, he wished he’d asked for those. They were both anxious to go up onto the mountain but their father had made it clear they had to wait until all the presents had been opened.
“Hurry,” Pascal whispered under his breath as his mother scratched at the tape on the side of a parcel.
A ball of wrapping paper hit his head, thrown by Étienne. Pascal threw it back at him. This was the first time they’d been away from home on Christmas Day. When their father had suggested they rent a chalet in the French alps, he and Étienne had been ecstatic.
“Oh thank you so much. That’s beautiful, Jean-Paul,” their mother said.
Pascal looked back to see her holding a large snow globe. There were three trees inside and a howling wolf standing on a rock. She shook it and a blizzard enveloped everything.
“It’s pretty, Maman,” Étienne said.
“How many more do you have to open?” Pascal pushed to his feet and went over to the tree. “Five? How can you still have five?”
She laughed. “Go and get ready for the slopes. It’s fine. I’ll make dinner. Be back here in two hours.” She turned to their father. “You can go with them.”
“No, I’ll stay and help you. Étienne, keep your eye on Pascal. Pascal do as your brother tells you.”
“Absolument, Papa.” Pascal grinned and rushed back to the room he was sharing with Étienne.
Étienne was as keen to be on the slopes as him and once they were dressed and kitted out with helmets and goggles, they skied down to the lift. Pascal was four years younger than his fourteen-year-old brother but just as good, if not better, on skis and snowboard. Faster, definitely.
As they went up on the chair lift, there was a bang and everything shook.
Pascal gripped the sides of the swinging seat. “What was that?”
“Avalanche control?”
“Aren’t they supposed to do that before the slopes open?”
Étienne shrugged. “Maybe they’re higher up on the mountain. Nowhere near us. I’ll follow you down, okay? Stick to the groomed slopes. Stop on that flat part by the snowmaker and wait for me.”
“I want to go top to bottom,” Pascal whined.
“Not this first time. Stop halfway.”
They slid off the chair at the top and skied right. There was hardly anyone up there, but the conditions were perfect, the sky bright blue. Heavy snow had fallen overnight and covered all the icy patches they’d clattered over yesterday. Étienne joined him at the top of the slope and they fastened the clips on their boots, before sliding their wrists into the pole straps.
“Hold your ski pole handle over the strap,” Étienne said. “And don’t go off piste.”
Pascal rolled his eyes and pushed off down the slope. He could see their chalet far off to the right, thought of the meal his mother was making and his mouth watered. He went faster, carved a turn across the slope and glanced back to see Étienne about twenty metres behind. As Pascal turned again, he heard a weird noise, like a low whistle. He glanced up the slope and to his horror, he saw billowing snow pouring down the mountain.
“Étienne!” he yelled. “Stay left.”
Pascal turned again away from the avalanche and glanced back, relieved to see Étienne had done the same. A cloud of snow was roaring towards them, seizing everything in its path; trees, rocks and if there were people in the way, them too. It was impossible to outrun an avalanche but he had to try. Except he was going too fast and needed to turn. There were trees on his left side and he didn’t want to get caught up in those at this speed, so he turned right, heard Étienne yelling about getting into the trees and moments later Pascal was smothered in snow.
He lost his poles, his skis flipped off and he tried to swim, kicking his legs and waving his arms to stay as close to the surface of the snow as he could. He was still being barrelled down the mountain and as his speed of descent slowed, he stuck a hand in front of his face and kept it there. If he was buried, he needed an air pocket to breathe. His father had drummed instructions into both of them about what to do in case of avalanche.
Pascal was terrified. He pushed his other arm up above his head hoping it was out in the air, then he stopped moving. Before the snow grew hard, he pushed it away from his face and gave himself a little room to breathe.
Merde! If Étienne was trapped too, who was going to find them? The weight of the snow on his chest made it hard to inhale and he wondered if he was going to die. Was there any point shouting? Wasting air and energy when he probably wouldn’t be heard?
“Pascal!”
“Étienne!” The relief when he heard his brother’s voice made him gasp out a sob. He tried to wave the arm he held straight up and felt something clutch his fingers.
“I’m going to get you out.”
Étienne’s muffled voice made the breath catch in Pascal’s throat. Little by little the weight on his chest lifted. Then he saw light through his goggles and finally his brother’s face. Pascal began to cry. Étienne kept pulling at the snow with his gloved hands, dragging it away from Pascal’s body until he could help to free himself. Étienne heaved him upright, Pascal lifted his goggles and they clutched each other.
“You lost your skis,” Pascal sobbed.
“So what? Mon dieu, I thought I’d lost you. How could I go back down the mountain without you? I was trying to tell you to get into the trees. The flow knocked me over but didn’t cover me. If you hadn’t managed to get your hand up, I wouldn’t have known where you were.”
Pascal looked around. Everything looked different. “No,” he gasped. “No. Where’s the chalet?”
Étienne stiffened at his side.
“Can you see it?” Pascal cried harder.
“They’ll be okay.”
“How can you say that? How can you know?”
“We need to get down the mountain.”
Without skis it was a long, slow journey. One they completed in silence, apart from Pascal’s muffled sobs. They saw no one as they headed down but as they drew closer to the base, there were a lot of people milling around.
“The chalet,” Étienne muttered. “Go left.”
Pascal was exhausted. He could barely lift one foot in front of the other but they waded through the snow and into the trees.
“There’s our car,” Étienne said.
They slithered into the place where their father had parked. The avalanche hadn’t touched the car but had almost engulfed the chalet.
“Go down to the base of chair lift and tell people to come and help,” Étienne said.
“I can’t.” Pascal collapsed to his knees.
“Then stay here.” Etienne ran down the hill.
When Pascal’s heart had stopped racing, he pushed to his feet. I have to do something. He waded to the part of the chalet he could see, trying to figure out where the door was. Had the building collapsed or just been covered?
“Maman! Papa!” he yelled and listened. There was no sound.
His father had a shovel in the car. Pascal waded back and sighed when the boot clicked open. He dropped his helmet and goggles inside, returned with the shovel and started to dig. His energy returned. When he found the steps leading up to the front door, he kept digging. By the time Étienne returned with several men, Pascal had exposed part of the door. The men moved him aside and Pascal was furious.
“I want to help,” he shouted.
Étienne wrapped his arms around him.
“You’re too little. They’re faster and stronger.”
But when Étienne went to help the men, Pascal took his shovel and headed to the side of the chalet where they’d last seen their parents. He managed to find the door to the cellar under the house and kept digging until he could open it. There was no snow in there and he breathed a sigh of relief. He crossed the cellar floor, climbed the steps and pulled at the door, banging on it when it wouldn’t open.
“Maman! Papa!”
He put his ear to the wood but he could hear nothing. Pascal went back down the steps and looked for something in the garage he could use to break open the lock. When he spotted the axe, he gulped. He clattered back up the steps, slammed the axe hard into the lock and dropped it. It hit his foot but encased in the ski boot, he felt nothing. He picked up the axe and kept striking the lock and suddenly the door swung open. Half of the doorway was blocked by snow.
“Papa,” Pascal shouted.
This time, he thought he heard a muffled cry. Pascal hacked at the wall of snow with the axe, knocking it back into the cellar until he could struggle forward through the drift. There was debris everywhere. Pictures that had been on walls. Clothes he recognised. Pieces of wood. He had more digging to do to get into the living room. The door opened out, which meant he had to make enough space to pull it toward him.
When he squirmed through, he saw the devastation the snow had caused, pouring in on the far side, breaking the wall and roof. Half of the living room was barely touched. Chairs in place. Christmas wrapping paper on the floor. The tree was showered in snow but still stood. Were his parents inside the mound of snow on the other side of the room? On the floor at his feet was the snow globe. He picked it up and tucked it inside the front of his jacket. Maman will want this. I’ll keep it safe for her.
He heard his mother’s voice from outside and sobbed with relief. He’d started back the way he’d come when the building suddenly shifted. As he scrambled back to the cellar, he heard a whooshing sound behind him and was thrown forward. There was a terrible pain in his chest and the world blanked out.
When Pascal opened his eyes, he saw Étienne staring down at him. Behind him were his parents.
“Are we all dead?” Pascal croaked. Oh God, that hurts.
“No,” his brother said. “You nearly died.”
Pascal groaned as he moved.
His mother caught hold of his hand. “Keep still, mon ange.”
“Hurts to breathe.”
“The chalet collapsed,” his mother said. “You bruised your heart on the snow globe.”
“Did I break it?” Pascal could feel himself slipping into sleep.
“No.”
“Oh good. And we’re definitely not dead?”
“We’re not dead,” Étienne said.
“Great.” But Christmas was ruined.
Aiden
Aiden stood by the door wearing his coat with lots of pockets. He’d struggled with the zip but finally managed to pull it up. His mother had told him to get dressed ready to go shopping but then she’d gone into her bedroom and not come out. He still waited. If he wasn’t ready when she did come out, she wouldn’t take him with her to Leeds.
It was Christmas Eve and he wanted to see all the beautiful things in the shops and the decorations on the streets. There was no sign of Christmas in their flat. No tree, no special food, no cards. Aiden had made her a card at school because his teacher said he had to. It was a picture of him and his mum looking up at a tree in the middle of a forest that he’d covered in lots of different coloured lights. When he’d given it to his mum, as he’d expected, she’d thrown it in the bin. Along with the model of the snowman he’d brought home.
Aiden tried to get the card and snowman back later but they were spattered in curry. His teacher had told him it was the best card she’d ever seen a five-year-old draw. Aiden liked drawing. He worked hard at school. He always tried to be a good boy because if his mother thought he was being bad, she hurt him. She had lots of ways to hurt him.
The bedroom door opened and he held his breath wondering if she’d be in a happy mood or an angry one. She was already wearing her coat, which meant they’d be going out, and his heart beat faster. She grabbed her handbag and keys and stalked towards him.
“Who said you could come?” she snapped.
His eyes widened. “P-p-please.”
She gave a long sigh that Aiden took to mean he could go with her and he followed her out of the flat to the lift. She touched up her lipstick as they went down and smiled at herself in her little mirror. She never smiled at him. Ever.
When the lift doors opened, she strode towards the road not caring that he couldn’t move as fast as her. His left leg hurt today and he limped after her as quickly as he could. She ran across the road without holding his hand. Aiden looked both ways and hurried after her. One of her friends was at the bus stop and they started to chat. About men. Aiden tried to make himself invisible at his mother’s side.
He knew he was supposed to love her and he tried, but she wasn’t like everyone else’s mummy. Other mummies waited at the school gates and hugged their children when they came out at the end of the day. She didn’t take him to school or collect him. He didn’t have to cross a road to get to school so she said he was fine. She didn’t do his spellings or his reading with him. She’d never ever read a story to him. He wasn’t allowed to go to anyone’s house and no one was allowed to come to his. Aiden didn’t try to make friends. He got laughed at because of the way he walked and jerked, and because he was terrible at games and PE, and because he stuttered. And because sometimes I smell.
When the bus came, he climbed on after his mother and sat on the seat behind her and her friend. They were making plans to go out that night and Aiden felt a flicker of hope that he might get to watch TV for a while.
His mother’s friend turned and smiled at him. “So what have you asked Santa for?”
Aiden kept his mouth shut. He knew there was no such person as Santa Claus. If there had been, he’d have had presents last Christmas and the ones before, but he hadn’t. Mummies and daddies bought the presents and hid them until Christmas morning. But he didn’t have a daddy and his mummy hadn’t hidden anything. He’d looked, just in case. He’d found wraps of powder he’d seen her pay a lot of money for but no toys.
“Answer Ellie,” his mother snapped.
“I’d like some gloves and a hat with flaps to keep my ears warm,” Aiden whispered.
His mother rolled her eyes.
I’d like books and games and toys. New shoes. A dog. Most of all I’d like a new mummy.
When they got off the bus, his mother and her friend went to a café. They told him to sit at a table and not let anyone take the chairs. They returned with coffees and cakes and a chocolate chip cookie wrapped in plastic. Aiden’s heart thumped. Was it for him? He didn’t dare reach for it. The two of them had slices of chocolate cake, with a thick layer of cream inside.
Aiden had once had a small piece of chocolate cake when it had been the birthday of a boy in his class. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He’d risked asking his mother if he could take a cake to school on his birthday and she’d laughed at him. She hadn’t remembered when his birthday finally came. No card, no present, no cake. No one had wished him a happy birthday. Not even his teacher.
“He’s an ungrateful little sod,” his mother hissed. “You keep the cookie, Ellie. Give it to one of yours.”
Aiden’s stomach gurgled as the cookie disappeared from the table.
When it was time to leave and the two pushed to their feet, Aiden was slower. He swiped a finger over the smear of cream and chocolate left on his mother’s plate and licked his finger clean before he followed them. His mouth watered, wanting more.
“Keep up,” she snapped at him.
Her friend went off and his mother took him into Superdrug.
She grabbed a basket, then bent down and whispered, “If I pick something up, turn it over in my hand, then put it down, you pick it up and put it in your pocket.”
Aiden’s heart sank. There was a camera close to the ceiling. But when he stood behind his mother, he was hidden from view. He filled his pockets with makeup, shampoo, condoms… She put a couple of things in the basket. By the time they reached the till, Aiden felt sick with anxiety. He’d done this for her a lot. Part of him wished he’d get caught but she’d told him if he did, they wouldn’t take him away from her, just tell them off, and she’d punish him for letting her down.
Once they were well away from the shop, she transferred all the things he’d taken into one of her shopping bags. Aiden limped around the town after her and stole whatever she told him to. He’d never taken anything for himself though he’d been tempted. When they emerged from H&M, he had underwear, jewellery and a sweater stuffed inside his coat.
Aiden limped after her into Leeds Market. She paid for the fruit and veg in there, pushing Aiden away while she chatted up the guy serving her. The stall opposite sold toys and Aiden watched two girls pick up snow globes and shake them. There was a ballet dancer in one and a mouse on skis in the other. One snow globe had a polar bear standing on a piece of ice, looking down at her cub, and it was so beautiful, it took his breath away.
The stall holder was busy serving the girls’ mother and Aiden slid out his right hand and pocketed the globe without anyone seeing. His heart hammered, and he froze where he stood, waiting for a hand to clamp down on his shoulder, but nothing happened. His mother walked away from the stall opposite and he followed, the snow globe burning a hole in his pocket.
When they emerged from the market, it was snowing. Aiden gave a startled laugh.
“Oh fuck,” his mother muttered.
She said that word a lot. Usually when she had a man in her bedroom. She made a lot of noise then. Aiden wasn’t sure what they were doing in there. He supposed stuff like he’d seen on the TV when she didn’t know he was watching.
They went into a couple more shops before they caught the bus home. A bottle of wine and a bottle of vodka taken by Aiden and clasped under his arms inside his jacket, went into her bag along with the six pack of beer she paid for. She never thanked him. Whenever she looked at him, there was disgust on her face. He knew it was because he wasn’t perfect.
Aiden was clever. He could read better than anyone in his class. He remembered things really well but she didn’t care about that. His right side was okay but his left wasn’t. She told people he was born crooked. Not her fault. Probably his father’s. Whoever he was—she always said. One of those things.
When they were back in the flat, Aiden put his coat, the snow globe still in the pocket, behind the couch. His mother unpacked everything, discovered he’d missed a lipstick she’d wanted and cuffed him around the head and hurt his damaged ear. Aiden cried out in pain and bit his lip to stop himself making any more noise because if he did, she’d hit him again.
“You useless piece of shit,” she hissed.
Aiden crawled into his bed behind the couch which sat across a corner of the room and curled up. His mother wanted nothing to remind her she had a child. Everything of Aiden’s was behind the couch: his clothes, toothbrush, school bag. His bed was made from two old sun lounger cushions. He had a grey blanket to cover him and that was all. No pillow. He spent most of his time behind the couch. His mother didn’t want to look at him because he reminded her that she’d given birth to an imperfect child. Aiden didn’t want to look at her either. An imperfect mother.
She took drugs before she went out that night, melted something in a spoon, pulled it into a syringe and injected herself. He didn’t know what she was taking, but it made her happy, so that was okay with him. While she was out, he wrapped up the snow globe in toilet paper, tucked it under his bed, then watched TV while he ate toast smeared with strawberry jam. He had to be careful what food he picked to eat. If it was something she wanted and he’d eaten it, she hit him. There was a tin of Quality Street in the cupboard and he risked taking two chocolates. He wanted to eat them slowly, make them last but they were gone in an instant and he hid the wrappers deep in the bag of rubbish under the sink.
When Aiden looked out of the window, he could see it was still snowing, settling now on the pavements and tops of cars. He wasn’t supposed to go out but he wanted to. He put on his coat and shoes and checked his pocket to make sure he had his key. No one was around. The lift was empty. When he walked outside, a flurry of flakes plastered his face and he laughed. He wouldn’t go far.
Not enough snow to do anything with but it made everywhere look pretty, covered all the dirt, turned litter and rubbish into curious shapes. Aiden didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention, especially someone who knew him. He walked away from the flats and headed down a side road where the snow lay thicker. There was a skip on the left-hand side and a child’s bike poked from the top.
Even if the bike was any good, which it probably wasn’t, he couldn’t take a bike home. But he held onto the side of the skip and pulled himself up to look inside. It was mostly bricks and pieces of wood but he saw a little face looking up at him and he just managed to make a grab for it before he fell back.
Aiden shook the snow off what he held and smiled. It was small soft toy, a dog with a leg and ear that were only loosely attached.
“Hello, Doggie,” Aiden said and tucked him inside his coat before he made his way home, feeling the toy soaking through his T-shirt and sweater but warming his heart.
But when he’d got it back to the flat, he panicked. He didn’t know where to hide Doggie that his mother wouldn’t find. He squirmed behind the couch. Maybe Doggie would be okay under all his clothes. He put on his pyjamas and went to clean his teeth. His hair was getting long. He needed to cut it with her scissors but he liked it to cover the scars on his ears. He’d leave it a few more days.
Back on his bed, he felt under the couch to see if there was a way of hiding the dog and the snow globe. He managed to pull a piece of material loose, slipped his hand inside, found a space and smiled. They’d both fit and he could get them in there quickly when he needed to.
He woke when he heard his mother come home with a man. They were laughing. The man didn’t have a voice Aiden recognised. He went back to sleep holding Doggie in one hand and his present in the other. This was the best Christmas ever.
Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.
One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.
Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press.
Silvia Violet writes fun, sexy stories that will leave you smiling and satisfied. She has a thing for characters who are in need of comfort and enjoys helping them surrender to love even when they doubt it exists. Silvia's stories include sizzling contemporaries, paranormals, and historicals. When she needs a break from listening to the voices in her head, she spends time baking, taking long walks, and curling up with her favorite books. Keep up with her latest ventures by signing up for her newsletter.
I'm a happily married mom of one snarky teenage boy, and three grown "kids of my heart." As a reader and big romance fan myself, I love sharing the stories of the different people who live in my imagination. My stories are filled with humor, a few tears, and the underlying message to not give up hope, even in the darkest of times, because life can change on a dime when you least expect it. This theme comes from a lifetime of lessons learned on my own hard journey through the pains of poverty, the loss of more loved ones than I'd care to count, and the struggles of living through chronic illnesses. Life can be hard, but it can also be good! Through it all I've found that love, laughter, and family can make all the difference, and that's what I try to bring to every tale I tell
Garrett Leigh is an award-winning British writer and book designer.
Garrett's debut novel, Slide, won Best Bisexual Debut at the 2014 Rainbow Book Awards, and her polyamorous novel, Misfits was a finalist in the 2016 LAMBDA awards.
When not writing, Garrett can generally be found procrastinating on Twitter, cooking up a storm, or sitting on her behind doing as little as possible, all the while shouting at her menagerie of children and animals and attempting to tame her unruly and wonderful FOX.
Garrett is also an award winning cover artist, taking the silver medal at the Benjamin Franklin Book Awards in 2016. She designs for various publishing houses and independent authors at Black Jazz Design, and co-owns the specialist stock site Moonstock Photography with renowned LGBTQA+ photographer Dan Burgess.
Barbara Elsborg lives in Kent in the south of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Volcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.
After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.
Her books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, and she hopes they are as much fun to read as they are to write.
Jay Northcote
Hamish Long(Narrator)
Silvia Violet
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EMAIL: silviaviolet@gmail.com
Secret Santa by Jay Northcote
Wild R Christmas by Silvia Violet
Alpha's Solstice by Susi Hawke
Angels in the City by Garrett Leigh
A Faerie Story by Barbara Elsborg
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