Gideon by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
Summary:A snowy cabin with one bed? That’s only the first step toward Gideon falling in love.
Gideon is too old to be fought over at Christmas by divorced parents who should know better. The prospect of a Christmas on his own is better than having to face either of them. When Rowan hires him for a wintery break in Maine, it seems like a safe choice until his PA’s meddling family shows him something entirely new: Love.
Rowan hiring his boss for a trip back to his moms’ place for Christmas sounded like a good idea at the time. Killing two birds with one stone, he can cheer up Gideon and possibly steal a kiss under the mistletoe. After all, he’s been hiding his attraction to the man for years, and maybe with some Christmas magic, he can help Gideon see what is right under his nose.
Gideon is such a delight. You got employer/employee/friends connection between the two main characters, a bit of a May/December gap, and of course you have Christmas. You don't really expect the boss of a boyfriends/companion for hire business to actually be the one getting hired, especially by his own PA but that's where Gideon finds himself. I don't think I'm giving anything away when I say that Rowan has two reasons for hiring his boss, 1. he wants a bit of a "friend buffer" with this boisterous family at Christmas and 2. he doesn't want Gideon to spend the holiday alone. Super sweet but not in a sugary-rot-your-teeth kinda way.
Gideon has drama(mild and not very angsty), humor, friendship, heat, family, holiday fun, and of course heart, always plenty of heart from these authors. I've loved the first two entries in this Boyfriends for Hire series and though it starts at the wedding for the couple we first met in book 1, Darcy, you don't really have to read them before opening Gideon. As a series reader I always prefer to read them in order even a series of standalones, but it's certainly not necessary.
Plain and simple, Gideon is a tale of holiday friendship that can become more if the two men can finally open up and be honest with each other. Okay, so you know this is going to have a HEA ending, that's never really in doubt. Gideon and Rowan's journey is one I like to label a "meat and potatoes" story, the "dessert" in the ending is great but it's the deliciousness of the courses you enjoy before dessert that makes the meal memorable. Gideon is definitely a memorable holiday romance.
RATING:
Summary:
A romantic Christmas with the hottest guy he's met in a while--but he's straight...
Ray Myers just wants his daughter to have the same opportunities as other kids. When her teacher offers a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Paris for the class, he knows he has to do whatever it takes to get her to Paris, even if it means going along himself. That's how he ended up where he is now: spending Christmas in the most romantic city in the world with someone that he, despite being straight, is finding more and more attractive all the time.
Simon Taylor just wants to make it to retirement and keep things interesting for him and his students. After being cheated on, he's not going to trust again. But when a passionate parent comes to him, something starts to change, and the Paris air might just bring a Christmas love story after all.
Christmas in Paris is a 50,000 word gay-for-you romance with adults-only heat and a happily ever after to warm your winter season
Summary:
It may be cold outside, but inside, the temperature is rising.
When grad student Kevin Taggert goes home with his best friend for Thanksgiving, the last thing he expects is to drool over the guy’s dad.
Forty-eight-year-old Drew Freeman would love a relationship, but he never expected to find it with his son’s best friend.
When a last-minute change of plans leaves Drew and Kevin alone in a cabin the week before Christmas, the heat between them is too much to deny.
Although they promise it’ll only last the week, every day that passes brings them closer together. When Christmas Day arrives—along with Drew’s son—can they salvage the relationship and the holiday?
Summary:
Snow Globe Christmas #2
I can’t really complain about my life; I have a job I love and a best friend that fills the void of my nonexistent family, but sometimes I’m lonelier than I like to admit. Especially with the holiday season approaching, I can’t help but wish I had someone special to share it with.
My friend gives me a snow globe with a man and a snowy owl inside, and for some bizarre reason, this man starts showing up every night when I close my eyes. It’s… not real, but I can’t seem to get the guy out of my head. It probably shouldn’t surprise me that my brain conjures up the perfect man in my dreams… well, almost perfect if he’d stop claiming to be a warlock. But the crazy thing is that all of it—that he—feels so real.
When I start falling for the man, the warlock, I can’t help but wish that what we have in my dreams could be a reality. I know it can’t, but at least when I’m asleep, I can be with him—with Alaric.
Although this book is part of A Snow Globe Christmas series, it is a complete stand alone and it isn’t a requirement that you read the previous books to follow along. We wish everyone a happy holiday season.
Summary:
Opposites might attract. But does that include age?
Christmas comes early for Aiden Malone in the form of a seductive blue-eyed stranger down on his knees. But a shock revelation about his new 'friend' has him running for the hills and cursing his stupidity before the night is out.
Tom's not prepared to give up that easily. He may be rich, where Aiden's poor. Innocent in a way that Aiden isn't. And on the wrong side of twenty. But he's old enough to know what he wants. And that's Aiden. He just needs to persuade the older man to look past his hang-ups about age and wealth.
Lust and prejudice pull Aiden in opposite directions, severely testing his willpower. As Tom's layers begin to peel away, Aiden discovers the younger man's life of privilege may not be all it seems. If Aiden gives in, they could have the sweetest Christmas that either of them has ever tasted.
But Tom's about to shatter their joy with a surprise announcement. Decisions need to be made on both sides. It’s down to Aiden, though, to stay strong and decide whose happiness is more important. His? Or Tom's? Because they can’t have it both ways.
It's possible their relationship won't even last as long as it takes for the snow to melt.
Gideon by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
One
Gideon
“I, Darcy Jonathan Bridges…”
Gideon glanced at the select group of guests in the intimate venue in New Canaan. Darcy and Adrian exchanged their vows in the small room full of white flowers and with an arch decorated with greenery. The wedding was a simple indoor service with no more than twenty people, all of whom had been handpicked to attend by either bridegroom, consisting of their immediate family and their closest friends.
So why am I here?
Gideon was Darcy’s boss, but he still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up being invited to the wedding. He was convinced that his PA, the annoying but sexy Rowan Phillips, had simply decided they were both attending and barreled ahead with the plans. Rowan had organized hotel rooms for them both only a short taxi ride from here, and insisted that staying over was all for Darcy and making the day special. More likely Rowan wanted to drink copious amounts of alcohol, but there again maybe he had the right idea. Gideon glanced toward where Adrian and Darcy were standing hand in hand. A drink or three to get through the day was probably in order so a hotel was for the best.
Ceremony, dinner, celebrations, alcohol, staying overnight, then in the morning it was off to somewhere for the newlyweds and back to the office on Stuyvesant Street in Manhattan for Gideon and Rowan. Gideon had work to do, contracts to assign for next year’s events and last minute checks on Christmas events given it was only nine days away.
There would be the inevitable last minute panics for work parties or family events, and he recalled a request for a two week booking covering a huge family’s New Year gathering at a location in Vermont. While lucrative, the Vermont booking had been left way too late because backstories for the people he hired were complicated matters for long-term connections, and he never put his employees in situations they couldn’t handle.
He’d have to turn it down, but that wasn’t an issue. Bryant & Waites was solid, financially secure, and discreet, all the things he and Luke had planned the company would be.
And there it was. He’d thought about Luke and he knew he should stop focusing on the past. Just because he was at a wedding, and twenty years ago Luke and he were supposed to go to Canada and get married and be together forever…
Think about Rowan instead.
No, don’t think about Rowan. Not sexy, in my face, snarky, coffee making Rowan.
Christmas. Yeah, I’ll think about Christmas. The commercial stuff. I can do that.
Rowan shifted next to him, their hands brushing, and all kinds of forbidden thoughts rushed to his head. He and Rowan holding hands, he and Rowan kissing, he and Rowan…
Christmas decorations, music on repeat, parades, more gift cards to buy. He began to make a mental list of what he could handle in the run up to the usual meeting with family for the big day. He wanted the decks cleared so he wouldn’t be dragged under by family stress. His oddly matched and long-time divorced parents bickering about who’d get him and his sister for which part of Christmas. He was forty-three for fuck’s sake, his sister only a few years younger, and yet the two of them were still fought over as if they were small kids. Not to mention Gideon’s birthday fell on Christmas Eve, which made things even worse. Typically, he hid away on his birthday if he could manage it, but last year he’d spent it with his sister and her boyfriend, and that in itself had been a different kind of chaos.
“They look so happy,” Rowan said as he leaned into Gideon briefly.
“Uh-huh,” was about all Gideon could manage. He’d been lost in thought and anyway, no one should be talking at weddings.
“I might get married here,” Rowan added, and Gideon shot him a surprised glance.
“You’re getting married?” he asked louder than a whisper and got an irritated stare from another guest.
Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”
Shock flooded Gideon as they turned back to face the happy couple. He hadn’t even known that Rowan was with someone, let alone at the point where they were thinking of getting married. What if Rowan left Bryant & Waites? What if he left Gideon to run the company on his own? That didn’t bear thinking about.
What if Rowan leaves me?
Rowan moved again, this time a full body sigh as Darcy and Adrian exchanged a vow. He smelled wonderful, a fresh citrus scented cologne that reminded Gideon of the ocean.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Gideon murmured as everyone began to clap and whistle at something.
“Huh?” Rowan said as the clapping died away.
“The man you’re marrying.”
Rowan tapped his nose then winked. “Now that would be telling.”
Great. Just when things were level and the company was steady, Rowan was running off with the first fly-by-night asshole who gave him a ring. Gideon could already picture some smooth city banker or a lawyer who had bought Rowan’s affections with gifts and empty promises—just to take him away from Bryant & Waites.
And me.
The thought of gifts reminded him that he still hadn’t bought Rowan a Christmas gift, which was a slap to the face. There was this rich city guy, probably showering Rowan with gifts, winning his heart, and Gideon hadn’t even considered the measly Christmas gift he usually bought his PA. It was the only one that he bought himself because the gifts to the other guys who worked for him were handled by Rowan himself. Not that Gideon would have to think about what to get him. Because Rowan would likely happen to leave an open magazine on his desk with some very specific comment on a Post-it.
At least Gideon knew that Rowan was getting something he wanted.
I bet Big-city guy doesn’t know Rowan as well as I do.
The countdown to Rowan leaving him had clearly begun, but he couldn’t stop the march of time. What was the point in dismissing the fiancé he’d never met when he himself had never actually made a move on his PA? Well, not a real move.
Focus. He needed to focus on the here and now, glancing briefly at Rowan, right by his side as usual. His suit was a deep blue color, standing out next to Gideon’s gray. His tie a bright orange, Gideon’s a silver-blue.
Rowan had once told him that blue ties made his eyes pop, whatever that really meant, but Gideon certainly hadn’t worn it so he popped his eyes at anyone today. Particularly not cheerful perky Rowan who smiled so wide his nose wrinkled and who was clearly getting married. Gideon had to ignore that Rowan looked good today, bright and smiling, and so different to how he was dressed in the office. His dark hair was newly cut, carefully layered, and his brown eyes were wide with an almost childlike wonder. He had a sprig of holly in his buttonhole, a nod to the season that was reflected in some of the decorations in the room, and he looked…attractive?
That was possibly the safest description that an employer should use about their newly engaged assistant because sexy, gorgeous, and fuckable, were not the words he should be using. Along with cute, always sunny, but sometimes disrespectful and irritating. Rowan was stuck in Gideon’s head, and the time had always been coming when they would need to part ways before Gideon’s idiot-attraction went from bad to worse. Maybe in the new year Gideon could ask Rowan to find a replacement for when he left with his husband…after paying Rowan handsomely for his time of course.
Since the first Wednesday in October at ten thirty-two in the morning, his and Rowan’s working relationship in the same office had started to become very different.
Rowan had hugged him. In Rowan’s defense, it had been the day after Gideon had taken his cat Kimi to the veterinarian. The hug happened out of sheer relief when the news came in that a lump the vet had found was just an infection. Although he wasn’t sure if it had been Rowan or himself who instigated it.
The feel of Rowan in his arms was a memory he would never lose.
Stupid libido and its ability to fuck with my head.
“Maybe I’ll get married on Christmas,” Rowan said softly as the vows or whatever drew to a close. He had his fist on his chest, right over his heart, and were those tears in his eyes? Rowan loved all things Christmas.
The only buffer between Gideon and warring divorced parents at Christmas was his sister, Grace, and what a flimsy buffer she was. They weren’t close at the best of times, but she was dating this guy who had the weirdest nasally tone to his voice and wouldn’t stop talking about how much of Gideon’s wealth he would love to invest. Maybe the problem was he reminded Gideon too much of their own father. No matter the situation with his family, everything came back to money in the end.
So while Gideon dreaded the season and its family obligations, Rowan counted down the days with an advent calendar filled with chocolates and chatted endlessly about this brother or that sister or what his moms had planned. This was the same PA who Gideon could guarantee would already have a Christmas playlist on his phone. He’d dance to the music as he filed or made coffee or even as he walked out for lunch. As of yet Rowan hadn’t put in his earbuds to play it when there were no clients in the office.
Not that Gideon checked.
Okay, so I checked.
There was an unspoken rule for respectful silence in the rarefied air of the offices of Bryant & Waites. At least, it had been an unspoken rule until what had become The Lady Gaga incident, and now it may as well be in huge letters in every contract. Returning unexpectedly to the office after a late meeting, Gideon had found Rowan with his earbuds in, singing along to the music he was listening to and dancing like an idiot in the kitchen. After he’d stood and watched for a good few minutes wondering what to say, Rowan had turned and spotted him. He’d explained there was no one in the building but him, adding something about the floor being polished, and that he wasn’t wearing shoes because he could slide better.
Gideon listened to it all and then, ashamed that he’d been caught watching, blew everything out of proportion and gave some lecture about solemnity and silence being the watchwords of Bryant & Waites. His face heated as he recalled that night because Rowan took the comments to heart and was as quiet as a mouse for at least two weeks until it became so quiet that Gideon was slowly driven mad. He’d left a Post-it note on Rowan’s desk apologizing for overreacting, and they’d never spoken of it again.
Although he still couldn’t get the image of Rowan dancing, or the hug, out of his mind.
Rowan was life and happiness and being in everyone’s business while totally efficient, and he fixed everything so Gideon had an easy life. He was the perfect PA and a thorn in Gideon’s side all at the same time.
He needed to stop thinking about Rowan getting married and leaving him, or recalling the way he moved, and his off-key singing, and how sexy he’d looked when—
Cats. Think about my cat. That’s safe.
I hope Kimi’s not too pissed that I’m away tonight.
Not that Gideon’s beautiful Ragdoll cat would be angry at his absence, she loved Hilda, his neighbor, and was probably being spoiled right now with fresh salmon and unending treats.
“Earth to Gideon,” Rowan whispered, and Gideon blinked down at him, seeing the twinkle in his brown eyes. “I can see the thought bubble from here,” Rowan added as the small group of people began to clap and Gideon joined in, although why he was clapping he didn’t know, then belatedly realizing that somehow he’d missed a vital part of the ceremony. Darcy and Adrian were kissing and then hugging, both grinning at each other as if they were the happiest people on earth.
Did I even hear Darcy and Adrian say their I Do’s?
“Don’t start with that bubble shit,” Gideon warned. Rowan had this thing where he would draw an oval shape in the air with extended fingers and then state what he thought Gideon was contemplating. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten he was right.
Rowan smiled. “You were thinking about something completely unrelated to the ceremony, and then you pondered about important clients, and finally you ended up thinking about your cat.”
Gideon ignored Rowan and stared back at the happy couple, after all the laughter in his PA’s eyes was way too alluring, far too beautiful of a thing, and he wasn’t going there.
“I was making a mental list of agencies who supply replacement personal assistants,” he said instead, trying for humor and realizing it worked when Rowan snorted with laughter, the noise lost in the clapping that continued on for a long time as Adrian and Darcy kissed and hugged their way around their friends and family.
“You’d have to find a magic agency.” Rowan leaned in and got far too close, and Gideon knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but no…he fell right into Rowan’s trap.
“What do you mean a magic agency?”
Darcy had nearly reached them, but there was enough time for Rowan to shrug and bite back a laugh.
“Only PAs capable of magic can handle the ogre in the main office.”
“You’re fired—”
“And rehired, obvs.” Instead of the word obviously, he’d started using “obvs” recently. It was obvs to everything as if correcting Gideon when he messed up by using the annoying shorthand made things better.
“Guys, thank you for coming.” Darcy was there, shaking hands, bro-hugs, a much longer hug for Rowan, but then again, the two men had been friends for thirty years. Adrian caught up with Darcy, dragging him into a kiss.
“Hey, husband,” he said.
“Hey back, husband,” Darcy said, and they kissed, right in front of Rowan and Gideon. So close that Gideon could see the tender way Adrian cupped Darcy’s face and the emotion that had them leaning on each other, with the absolute certainty that neither would let the other fall.
I want that. I really want it.
He was trapped in his quiet corner, hemmed in by the kissing, laughing newlyweds and Rowan, who was grinning so hard it had to hurt.
When the two separated, they all hugged again, and this time it was thank yous for the gifts. Gideon hadn’t known what to get them. Adrian wasn’t wanting for money, and what did you buy two guys who had their own place? He’d settled on a generous gift card to an upmarket bespoke furniture showroom, and they seemed pleased, explaining they were sure they would find something perfect there, and for a brief moment, Gideon felt as if he’d done something right in a social setting, and that he was a good guy.
But Adrian was gushing all over Rowan. “How in the hell did you know about the rare Ella Fitzgerald pressing?”
Rowan winked. “I have my sources,” he said and brushed at his shoulders indicating that he was a freaking genius.
“You mean Darcy told you,” Gideon said and laughed because he’d made a joke, but Rowan shook his head and looked serious.
“I never said a thing,” Darcy said.
“No, he didn’t. You remember that barbecue we had at yours? You said that she was one of your heroes, and you loved her music, and then we were talking about it after, and you mentioned you were looking for a particular version—”
“Oh God, I did, how the hell do you recall that?” Adrian hugged Rowan. Again. There was way too much hugging going on, and Gideon remained trapped in the corner.
“You know I’m a genius,” Rowan deadpanned, and Gideon bit back the need to make a barbed comment about how his PA had probably written it down in his journal, but that wasn’t really a joke and would have made everything awkward.
“And the dogs,” Darcy said. “Thank you.” He hugged Rowan, and Gideon was less worried about that hug. Them being friends and all.
“What dogs?” Gideon asked because firstly, he was trapped, and secondly, he’d promised himself to make a real effort at this wedding.
He never did get an answer because someone yelled from the other side of the room about toasts and food and a party, and it was as if the tide that had been washing toward Gideon suddenly reversed, and it was only him and Rowan left.
“What dogs?” he repeated.
“Darcy and dogs have been a thing for a while I guess. You probably don’t know but he used to volunteer at a dog sanctuary, donated to a Dogs for Veterans charity. I think he’s still in touch with some ex-army buddies who had worked with the K9 unit. So, yeah, I donated in his name.” He made it sound as if it was nothing, but his gifts were thoughtful, personal, whereas Gideon didn’t even know the two men well enough to come up with anything cleverer than a generic gift card.
“Come on.” Rowan tugged Gideon to the door through which everyone had left. “I don’t want to miss out on champagne!” The smaller room decorated with simple flowers opened up into a bigger room with a few round tables, a large cake, and horrifically, a dance floor. Gideon nearly turned and ran. He could face down multinational corporations, defend his staff and friends to the death, discuss terms with the richest families in the US, and sometimes in foreign countries. He could maneuver his way through the trickiest of negotiations and shield his company, but the thought of a dance floor, which meant dancing?
Nope. Not happening.
Gideon deliberately chose a table near the door—for a swift exit—then changed his mind when that was also too close to the dance area then went to the back but quickly realized he’d be hemmed in again, and then he simply just stopped walking.
“Here, boss.” Rowan encouraged him to sit, and in Rowan’s capable way, he’d found a seat equidistant between dancing, cake, and freedom. He didn’t ask Gideon why he was standing there like an idiot. He just dealt with it, but they weren’t at work. This was a social situation, and Gideon wasn’t a freaking idiot.
“I can find my own damn table,” Gideon snapped.
Rowan blinked at him and pointed at the table in front of which they were standing and a small card that had Gideon Bryant handwritten on it. He was sandwiched between Adrian’s sister, Abby, and Rowan. Sitting in his chair, he settled in for whatever happened next. Well shit, he hadn’t seen the card.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Rowan smiled at him, in reassurance maybe?
“S’okay boss. Here, have some champagne.”
Maybe I shouldn’t drink? Maybe I should stick to water and then I could keep my head and not ask Rowan why the hell he’s marrying some guy I’ve never even met.
But the champagne sure tasted nice.
Christmas in Paris by Riley Knight
Chapter One
Ray
It had started as such a good day. There was the new job, for one thing. The job which was finally paying him enough that he and Ashley might be able to move from the dump of an apartment where Ray had been living since before Ashley had even been born. It was almost to the point where he could make those sorts of plans, and he had realized it when he had woken up that morning.
The energy shift must have been obvious to Ashley, too, because she didn’t just grunt in response to his wishing her a good morning. Instead, she had pushed her blonde hair out of her face, and for the first time in what felt like years, she had gotten past her teenaged angst enough to look him right in the eyes before she’d rushed off to school.
It was times like this, he mused to himself, as he walked into the office building where he had found a job doing reception work, that he could almost have hope. The hope that his relationship with his daughter wouldn’t always be as strained as it felt like it was these days. The hope that he wouldn’t always be living paycheck to paycheck. The hope that he could have a different life than what his had been for more than a decade and a half.
And, of course, it was probably completely and totally predictable that that would be exactly when everything would fall to pieces around him. It was the story of his life, it seemed. Though he tried to be more optimistic than that, sometimes, it was hard. He kept pulling himself up through sheer grit and determination, and just when he was starting to get his feet under him, something would push him right back down to the beginning again.
It was enough to make him want to scream sometimes or just give up. If not for Ashley, that would be exactly what he would do. He knew that he needed very little, but she was a different story. He could go hungry himself, but he could never let his daughter go hungry.
She was his first thought when he was called into the boss’s office right as he arrived at work. Ashley. God, how was he going to tell her? How was he going to keep putting food on the table and paying the rent? The truth was, he knew that he had been fired because the company was broke and filing for bankruptcy? They could call it laid off all they wanted, but fired was fired.
The whole day he worried about it, sitting at his aging computer and desperately searching for some job, any job. But this close to the holidays, everyone had done their seasonal hiring. He sent out some resumes but didn’t hold out much hope. He might get lucky, but he was underqualified for every single one of those jobs. And he couldn’t say that he felt particularly lucky just then.
He had lots of time to think about it. Ashley had basketball after school, so it was almost dinner time by the time she breezed in, still flushed and glowing from the chill in the air outside. December would start in a few days, and he wasn’t even sure how he was going to afford groceries, much less any presents for her.
“Dad, oh my God,” Ashley burbled, her mouth already opening to speak probably before she even got into the room. “You won’t believe what Maddie said to me today …”
Ray tried his best—he really did—to pay strict attention. Ashley was so unpredictable. Sometimes she was barely willing to grunt at him, prickling at the slightest insult and storming off at a moment’s notice, and sometimes she was so cheerful that she was practically bouncing as she walked. He had learned to appreciate the cheerful, bouncy times and tried his best to ignore the grunting and rudeness.
“What did she say?” Ray prompted, but he could see that his act was not fooling his daughter. She was far too perceptive sometimes, and unfortunately for him, it seemed like this was one of those times.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded, and Ray let out a soft sigh, which he tried to disguise by turning away from her to poke at the food, although the spaghetti sauce that was cooking there really needed very little interference from him. But it was somewhere to look that wasn’t into her eyes. He didn’t want to see the worry there when he told her the truth, which he knew he was going to have to do.
“What did Maddie say to you?” Ray asked again, hoping against hope that he could put off the inevitable for a few more minutes. He just needed some time to figure out how he was going to say the words. There was a chance, however slight, that he would get away with it, right?
Wrong.
“Dad.” Ashley sounded just like her mother sometimes. It was a little spooky, considering that she hadn’t had any contact with the woman since she was little more than a baby. “Tell me. Something’s wrong.”
Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes, which were suddenly stinging. His daughter was such a good person. She was honestly worried, and if he tried to hide this from her, she would not only see right through it, but it would only make her worry more.
“I got fired.”
It was a little bit blunter than he meant to be, but at least the words were out. But then there was nothing but silence from behind him, and he found himself rushing to fill that silence with words.
“Laid off, I mean. The company shut down. But don’t worry, Ash, I’ll find another job.”
He stopped, and she still hadn’t said anything. So he got brave and turned around, looking into her pale-green eyes and scanning her face. This was legitimately one of his favorite people in the whole goddamned world, and guiltily, it was a relief to have told her. At least he wasn’t alone with this anymore.
“Dad, did you forget?”
Her first words after being told were not at all what he had thought they would be. He just stopped and stared at her for a long moment, trying to draw the words into focus, trying to understand them, and she sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder in a golden waterfall, rolling her eyes in that way that was the unique right of teenaged girls and would get anyone else likely punched in the face.
“Dad! Paris?”
And then it happened. The understanding that he had hoped for finally broke through like the sun dawning, but unfortunately what it shone light on was not the sort of thing that he wanted to see. He had forgotten completely about something that he had known was important to his daughter, and he felt immediate, intense guilt clawing at his guts. He’d been so distracted he had forgotten, and how could he? She had been talking about nothing else for months.
“I have money saved for that,” he admitted, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t quite enough. But he still had one more paycheck coming from the place that had just fired him. If he scrimped and saved from that paycheck, he should be able to come up with just enough.
“But if you don’t have a job, how are we going to pay rent and eat?” she asked, showing more maturity and practicality than most seventeen-year-olds would be able to pull off. She had grown up fast, maybe too fast. “I don’t think I should be going to Paris if it means that you aren’t going to pay rent because of it.”
With a soft sigh, Ray pulled dinner off of the stove and then turned to look at his daughter, pasting a smile that he hoped was convincing on his face. He wasn’t sure how well it came off, and for someone like Ashley, he had to be better than convincing. He had to be completely believable when he wasn’t at all sure about what his future was going to be. How was he supposed to reassure her when he couldn’t even reassure himself?
“Dinner’s ready. Let’s set the table,” he suggested, but he could feel her gaze boring into his back as he busied himself with the last stages of preparation. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? You’re going on that trip. I promise.”
There was a long silence, so long that Ray turned around, half convinced that his daughter had slipped quietly out of the room while he’d been talking. But when he looked behind himself, he saw that she was still there, studying him like he was a bug under a microscope that she was trying to understand. In some ways, a lot of ways, Ashley was a lot like him, but there were times when he had no idea what to expect from her, no idea what was going on in her head.
She was like him, but stronger. So much stronger. He saw by the expression on her face that she didn’t expect him to keep his promise and that she wouldn’t get her hopes up. That broke his heart, and even more so because he was pretty sure that he deserved it. He had to get a job, any job, as fast as possible, and hope against hope that he could somehow squeeze a meager paycheck to make sure that she got to go on that trip.
But there were so many variables. Still, looking at this human being that he had somehow had a hand in creating, he knew that he couldn’t quit. If the positions were reversed, he knew for a fact that Ashley would find a way to get him on that plane to Paris. He owed her the same.
“Set the table, Ash,” he reminded her, and she gave him one more searching look before she turned away to do as he had asked. The rest of the evening passed in near silence, both of them lost in their thoughts, which gave plenty of time for Ray to turn over the possibilities in his head over and over again.
None of them were good. None of them offered a whole lot in the way of hope, and there were just too many things that could go wrong. He had so little time, less than a week, until the first of December, which was when Ashley was supposed to leave.
When it came down to it, it was simple. He needed to get her on that plane. He would have to pursue any and all options to make that happen. He hated to have to do it, but if begging were required, he would beg. It wouldn’t be great for his pride, but that was a relatively small price to pay.
Every school notice that Ashley had brought home since she had been a little kid had said, clear as day, that students wouldn’t be excluded from school activities because of finances. He had never taken them up on that before, but it was time to do so. It wouldn’t be fun to approach the school with hat in hand, but if that was what needed to happen, then so be it.
It was worth it—more than worth it. Not only did Ashley want to go, but Ray thought it would be the best thing in the world for her. So he would go, and he would beg. Because no matter how much he worked it in his mind, he couldn’t find any way to make it happen. He could get a job tomorrow, and he would still not be able to pull the funds together. Not since he also had to pay rent.
He knew what he needed to do, so tomorrow, before he got down to job searching, he was going to have to pay Ashley’s French teacher a discreet visit. It was distasteful, but there was just no other option other than failure, and that was no option at all.
Cabin Fever by Brigham Vaughn
One
“Hey, are you okay?”
Kevin Taggert looked up from his phone to see his roommate frowning at him. “I’m not great,” he admitted.
“What’s up?” Jason Freeman plopped onto the couch next to him, a concerned expression crossing his face. “You look like you just got dumped and I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”
“I’m not. Just feeling bummed about the holiday.” He sighed heavily.
“You’re staying here in Indiana for Thanksgiving, right?” Jason stretched his legs out, getting comfortable. “I mean, dealing with the airport and flights to Washington State and back again for a few days did seem like a lot, so I didn’t blame you for skipping it this year.”
“Yeah, it just didn’t seem worth the hassle and expense since I was going home for Christmas, anyway. But then I got this email from my mom about my brother and his girlfriend, and now I’m feeling bummed that I’ll miss a big moment with my family.”
He woke up his phone again, then handed it over to Jason. It was still queued up to the email from his mom.
Jason read the message, a frown furrowing his brow as he stared down at the screen.
Kevin didn’t have to see it to remember what it said.
We’re looking forward to spending the weekend with Gabe and Meredith. We think there may be a big announcement soon! We’re so excited for them and their future together. It’s great seeing them settling down and beginning their adult lives.
-Mom
“Oh, man, that sucks.”
“Yeah.” Kevin sighed. “I hate to miss my brother’s big moment, and it feels like I grow a little further apart from my family every year, you know?”
“I get it.”
“I mean, I was the one who came here to Indiana for school so that’s on me, but it’s been hard to get home on a regular basis. And I always feel like I’m letting them down. Like they’re disappointed that I went into engineering and that my relationship with my ex fizzled out. I can’t even meet a guy, much less get engaged like my brother.”
“Is that what your mom meant by big announcement?”
“I assume so,” he said. “They’ve been together fucking forever, so it’s the logical thing.”
“And you said your mom is crazy about Meredith, right?”
“Yeah, both my parents are. I like her a lot too, honestly. I’m really happy for my brother. I’m just feeling bummed that I’m going to miss out. The thought of sitting alone on the couch here while my family is off celebrating my brother’s engagement makes me feel crappy about where I am in my life.”
“You’re a semester away from having your master’s degree in mechanical engineering. You’re doing just fine, man.”
“I know. Seriously, ignore me. I’ll snap out of it in a bit. I swear. I’m just feeling sorry for myself at the moment. I reconsidered going out there but it’s really too late. When I checked flights, it was nearly double what it was a month ago, and that’s ridiculous for a couple of days at home. I was originally planning to catch up on studying this weekend, but now I’ll probably just wind up sitting on the couch, bored and lonely.”
Jason gave him a sympathetic smile before his expression brightened. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you come home to Michigan with me for Thanksgiving?”
Kevin considered the idea. “You’re staying with your dad, right? He won’t mind me crashing your holiday?”
“Nah. Dad’s cool. He won’t care if you tag along with me. It’s usually just the two of us, so I’m sure he won’t mind you being there at all. I was planning to leave Wednesday, drive up that day, spend Thursday and Friday with my dad, go with my mom and stepdad to my grandma’s on Saturday, and then head home Sunday. That work for you?”
“Sure,” Kevin said slowly. “As long as no one minds me intruding.”
“I’ll text them and check, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. You can come with me to my grandma’s too, if you want, on Saturday or just chill at my dad’s place. He won’t care either way.”
“I can decide when we get up there, I guess.” He glanced at Jason. “You going to see Angie?”
He shrugged. “I really want to. She’s been weird about it though.”
“What do you mean?”
“One minute she’s all for it, then next she’s saying it’s a bad idea.” He sighed and rubbed a hand across his bearded face.
“Isn’t that pretty standard for you guys?”
“Kind of.”
In the five years Kevin had been friends with Jason, he and his high school sweetheart Angela Hill had dated and broken up more times than Kevin could remember. After they’d graduated from high school, she’d stayed in Ann Arbor to go to a prestigious cosmetology school, and Jason had gone to Purdue in Indiana. It had become a never-ending cycle of hating the long-distance relationship and missing being together. Which Kevin could certainly understand. But he knew his roommate was going to be miserable until things got resolved one way or the other.
“Just hang in there until you graduate next spring,” he said, patting him on the thigh. “Once you do, you’ll be able to figure out a plan for the future.”
“Since when are you such a romantic?” Jason teased, nudging Kevin’s leg with his knee. “I thought you’d given up on relationships.”
He shrugged. “What I’m doing and what everyone else is doing are two very different things,” he pointed out. “And I’m not against the idea. I just haven’t found anyone worth making all that effort for.”
“You’ll find it, dude. You’re a great guy, and someone’s going to see that.”
Kevin shot him a half-hearted smile. “I hope so.”
“Nah, I know so,” Jason said as he typed out a message on his phone. “You’ll make some lucky guy very happy someday. Now let me message my dad and ask if he’s cool with you joining us for Thanksgiving.”
Wishing on a Dream by Michele Notaro
Prologue
Vakore
Two Hundred Years Ago
Tiberius stretched his wings from atop my son’s shoulder, and the whole court held its breath. I hid a smile, amused at the fear on their faces. Strange that they seemed to fear my son’s familiar, a white owl, more than they feared me at times. I supposed he was rather large, even within his species, and his beak was intimidating. My people had no idea where my son had found him, where the owl came from, so naturally, they assumed he was evil. That was the only reason I allowed my son to stand beside me in court.
His owl’s presence made the people think evil was among them. But that was far from the truth. My son and his familiar were nothing like me. I knew I had a darkness inside my veins, but it was something I enjoyed latching onto since my wife died in childbirth. It felt too good to ignore. If the people only knew who held the true darkness.
Stroking my hand down my own familiar’s fur—a lynx—I said, “Payment is due today, farmer.” My familiar further settled on the arm of my chair.
“I understand, sir, but the fire, it took half our crop and—”
“Your taxes are due,” I said, irritated. Why did these people think they could get away with not paying? What was so hard about it?
“I beg of you, Lord Bloodgood. Please. Our crops… it’s all we have in the world,” the man said. His wife and three children were behind him, huddled together, filthy and crying.
“You will pay, or I will make you pay.” The darkness swirled inside me, and I felt a smile pull at my lips.
Whatever the farmer and his family saw must have scared them because they took a step back and the man said, “We’ll pay, sir. Please forgive me.”
“Bring the payment by the end of the hour and all will be forgiven… but not forgotten.” I aimed my grin at him.
The man quivered and nodded before rushing out of the room.
Over the course of the next hour, man after man begged me to give them a break, begged me to let them live on my land for free. And man after man was forced to bring me my payment, no matter the cost to him or his family. The darkness inside my chest swirled in victory at the sorrow and pain laced on the people’s faces, and the grin grew on my face.
An elderly woman approached my chair, and I asked, “Did you bring payment, wench?”
“You have taken advantage of these people long enough, warlock,” she said as she stood straight and pointed at me. Her cloak fell away, and with it, her wrinkles and moles smoothed out, revealing a woman no older than me.
My eyes narrowed at her. What was this? Why the disguise? “What do you want, witch?”
She cackled. “I heard of your power, Lord Vakore Bevan Cross Bloodgood, but I heard of your mistreatment of non-magics. I didn’t believe it at first. I didn’t want to believe that a man who could use his powers to help people would be mistreating them so.” She stepped closer to me. “But I have seen with my own eyes how cruel your heart is. We were put on this earth to help mortals, and yet, you take from them. You make them pay you. You rule over them as if you are king.” Power started swirling around her. “You are king no more.”
Yanking on my magic, I stood and pulled a shield around myself. Smoke swirled around me, my hands glowed, the hair on my arms and head stood straight up at the power of it. I prepared my spell, a blast to knock her away followed by a freezing spell to keep her still. As I was lifting my hands to send it at her, her magic broke through my shield, knocking into my chest. It hit me so hard, I flew backward, knocking my throne back as I tumbled. I landed beside my son, and as I locked eyes on him, I realized I wasn’t the target of her magic.
“No!” I yelled. “Don’t!”
“You have a choice, Bloodgood. You or your son?” Her voice wrapped around me, awakening the darkness within.
I needed to keep her away from Alaric, but… but I needed to live more. I dropped my hand.
“Your selfishness knows no bounds, warlock.” Her eyes pierced me with a cruel gaze. “You will have to live with the knowledge of your choice while your son suffers.”
I cried out, but I didn’t use my magic against her. I was a coward.
******
Alaric
Tiberius squawked and flew at me, trying to help block the power, but the witch shot my familiar with a stun spell. I yelled out in shock, anger, and fear. If she injured Tiberius, I would end her.
Father was yelling, but the witch’s magic surrounded me, and I could no longer hear anything on the other side. Why would she attack me when her ire was with my father?
The cackling witch stood over me, whispering words I did not recognize, her power emanating off her in waves. Whites and blues and purples and greens swirled around us, covering Tiberius and me. With all of my strength, I pulled my familiar into my chest, cradling him with one arm as I shielded my eyes against her magic.
When the power relented, I pulled my arm down, looking around the room. My brows furrowed in confusion. Standing, I held Tiberius to my chest as I walked forward two steps on an ashy ground, but was abruptly stopped by an invisible shield. I put my hand out and tapped at it. No, it wasn’t invisible, it was a clear, hard surface. Glass.
I turned back, and the confusion spread. Behind me was a… cottage. A small, tiny thing. And I wasn’t standing on ash, I was standing on… was that snow? Here?
Where was I? Had the witch used a transport spell on me?
The witch’s cackle reached my ears, and I startled and gasped, backing away from the glass. She stood on the other side of the glass, but she was a giant. Her head was bigger than the house behind me. How had she made herself so big? How did she have so much power?
I scrutinized her, then startled again when my father stood beside the witch. He was equally as big. His skin was pale and it seemed as if he’d aged fifty years since before the spell. But… warlocks didn’t age, they also didn’t grow into giants.
Blinking, I looked past them, past the glass, and realized that it wasn’t they that had grown, but me that had shrunk.
I took in the cottage and stepped to the side, placing my hand on the glass again, pushing my icy power into it. My magic ricocheted back, swirling over the glass, and I gasped as my eyes followed my power in a circle over the top of me, and I realized I was in a glass dome. A magical prison.
I pushed all of my willpower, I threw every spell I knew at it, over and over again until I was wrung out and empty. Nothing worked. Not so much as a crack. I was weakened inside this dome. My powers were suppressed.
The witch grinned down at me. “This should teach your father a lesson, young warlock.”
“What did you do to me?” I screamed.
“Do not fret, Alaric. Your father has seen what his choice has done to you.” She cackled. “He will live with that guilt.”
My father’s weak voice whispered, “I’m sorry, son… I’m… sorry.”
Tiberius shivered in my arms, and I pulled him closer, stroking his back to offer comfort. I wasn’t sure if it was for his comfort or my own. “Let us out!”
She grinned, but it looked manic. “No.” She blew on the glass dome and it began to shake as her magic pressed down on me making everything turn black.
Christmas Riches by HL Day
Chapter One
I tipped my head back against the partition wall, desperately trying to ignore the low hum of voices from outside the bathroom stall that reminded me where I was. That and the faint strains of Elton John singing “Step into Christmas.” I didn't really want to be thinking about Elton John at a time like this. Glancing down, I bit my lip in an effort to hold back the groan that threatened to escape. It was difficult to know what was hotter, the sight or the feel of what the stranger was doing. As if sensing my scrutiny, pretty blue eyes the color of sapphires rose to meet mine as he pulled his mouth off my dick. Fully erect, my cock waved in the air, glistening obscenely from the man’s saliva. My eyes pleaded with him not to stop. I would have used words but they seemed to have escaped me somewhere around the time his lips had opened wide to take me in.
He appeared completely unfazed by the fact that he was crouching on a bathroom floor as his gaze trailed down my body, his voice a husky whisper. “Undo your shirt. I want to see your chest while I suck you.”
Fingers trembling with arousal, I hastened to do as he asked, the desire to come blanking everything else from my mind and making me momentarily forget that at thirty-one years old, this was not what Aiden Malone did. Especially when The Royal Oak wasn't even a pick-up joint. It was an ordinary run-of-the-mill pub in Battersea, just down the road from the building site where I worked. Families came here on the weekend. They even held a goddamn quiz night there every Thursday, along with the occasional karaoke on a Friday. It was about as far from a pick-up joint as you could get. Yet, when my eyes had lingered for that little bit too long on the man walking toward the exit, he’d hesitated, his path changing course to saunter in my direction.
I’d averted my gaze, embarrassed to be caught checking him out so openly, fastening it instead on a garish Christmas decoration dangling from the pub ceiling, its gold metallic covering reflecting the light as it twisted in the breeze. It hadn’t deterred him in the slightest, and within seconds, he’d been standing right in front of me. I don’t know what I’d expected him to do, offer his name maybe, or ask for my number. He’d done neither. The stranger had given me a thorough once-over, his gaze taking in my dark hair, prone to curling especially when the weather was damp, my grey eyes that a boyfriend had once said were the color of a stormy sky, and my stubble because I hadn't bothered to shave that day. The gleam in his eyes said he liked what he saw. He bent over so that his lips were close to my ear, his warm breath ghosting over my skin and raising goosebumps. “I want to suck your cock. Come with me.” Then he’d held his hand out, like it was that simple.
I’d stared at him, the invitation leaving me breathless, unable to tear my gaze away from his plump, pink lips. Lips he’d just offered to wrap around my cock. I’d imagined in vivid detail what it might feel like to push my cock between them and feel his tongue explore the length of my shaft. My hesitation had lasted just that one beat too long. With a small shrug, he’d started to retreat, the fingers inching back, the invitation in the process of being rescinded just as quickly as it had been offered in the first place.
He'd been seconds away from turning and leaving and I'd known I'd never see him again. He'd be just a faint, amusing memory of something that could have been. Triggered by a strange sense of panic, my hand had jerked out, grasping on to his fingers before he could withdraw them completely.
The seductive smile I'd received in return had been everything. He’d pulled me to my feet, our fingers still entwined, and I’d followed blindly without having a clue where we were going. I’d almost balked when I’d realized his destination. I wasn’t a “bathroom sex” type of guy. I’d been in relationships where boyfriends I'd trusted implicitly had suggested it with a wink and I’d always declined, pointing out that we weren’t teenagers and we had homes to go to. Why choose to get it on in a place like that when there were other options available? I'd never understood it. Not before, anyway.
The blue-eyed stranger had led me into a stall, ignoring the interested stare of the middle-aged guy at the sink washing his hands. Slamming the door shut and pushing me back against the side of the stall, he’d wasted no time in dropping to his knees on the floor that appeared relatively clean. But who knew? His long-fingered hands made short work of the button and zipper of my jeans before pulling my semi-hard cock out. He’d regarded it with a look of intense fascination, his tongue coming out to taste before he'd slid the length between his lips.
And there we were.
I undid the last button on my shirt and placed my hands against the wall behind him, not knowing what else to do with them. He smoothed his fingers along my thighs before parting the two sides of my shirt as if he was unwrapping a very special Christmas present, his gaze hungry as he devoured the sight he'd uncovered. I didn’t go to the gym. I didn’t need to. I spent eight hours a day, five days a week, carrying heavy loads of bricks around, digging and clearing, and anything else manual you could name that needed doing on a building site. The honed muscles therefore came naturally. He slid his hands over my six-pack, kneeling up to continue his exploration all the way to my pectorals, his fingers tweaking my nipples before he sank back down, his lips engulfing my cock again and bringing a strangled gasp to my lips. He certainly knew what he was doing.
Voices grew louder outside the door before fading away again. I had no idea how long we’d been in the stall. It felt like hours and mere minutes all at the same time. He tilted his head, the angle allowing him to take me deeper. My thighs trembled, the first tingles of orgasm starting to make themselves known. I was ready to come, but at the same time it felt so damn good, I wanted it to last a bit longer. I lifted my hands from the wall, digging my fingernails into my palms to create enough pain to prevent me from coming for a few more delicious seconds. A few more seconds where I could enjoy the hot velvet warmth of his mouth and the feel of his talented tongue on my cock. It probably wasn't fair. Not when his jaw had to be aching by now, but at the moment, selfish felt way better than fair.
I gave in to the temptation I'd had ever since he'd started blowing me, my fingers sliding into his thick, dark hair, the strands soft and free of any hair products. I was hesitant at first. When he didn’t pull back or complain, I slid them deeper, my palm cupping his delicate skull, encouraging him to tilt his head farther back, my cock nudging the back of his throat. And he took it perfectly with not an ounce of protest. When the blue-eyed stranger's hand moved to palm my balls, there was suddenly no pain in the world sufficient enough to keep me from coming.
Sparks raced down the length of my spine, my whole body tingling as the rush of orgasm coursed through me, my muscles spasming and twitching as if someone had applied an electric shock. They gradually died away, replaced by a warm lassitude that started at my crotch and radiated outward. Eyes closed, I rested back against the wall, panting, dimly aware that I should be concerned about how much noise we'd made. Or I'd made. But I couldn't bring myself to care when the warm, talented mouth of a complete stranger had just taken me straight to heaven, and I wanted to stay there a while longer. Besides, it wasn't like there was anybody banging on the door and threatening violence. I took that as a good sign.
Sensing movement, I opened my eyes to find myself facing the amused scrutiny of my stall companion head-on. At some point while I'd been lost in post-orgasmic lassitude, he'd stood, putting us back on the same level. He moved closer. Was he expecting me to return the favor? He might be comfortable kneeling on a bathroom floor but I wasn't.
The blue-eyed stranger leaned in, his hand bracing against the wall by my head. I waited, still struggling with the dilemma of what I was supposed to do. “If you come home with me, you can fuck me.”
I stared at him, the words slowly unraveling themselves in my brain to form a sentence. That hadn't been what I'd expected him to say.
Not at all.
Apparently reading my stunned expression as reluctance, he spun around, unzipping his jeans and lowering them a few inches, along with his underwear, to reveal a decidedly pert ass. As adverts went, it did the trick. A smirk playing on his lips, he glanced back over his shoulder. “What do you think? Interested?”
I nodded; my gaze—and brain—was still fixated on his ass. I may have only just come but my dick didn't seem to be getting the memo. My dick, I realized, that was still hanging out. I reached across the stall, grabbing some toilet roll from the dispenser and giving myself a quick wipe before tucking myself back in and sorting out my clothes. The buttons on my shirt seemed to take much longer to fasten than they had to undo, the stranger's eyes on me just as much as they had been when I'd undressed.
When I was decent, we left the stall together—the bathroom blessedly empty. No one batted an eyelid as we made our way through the pub lounge, Elton John having given way to Mariah Carey. Either the patrons hadn't realized what we'd been up to, or they just didn't give a damn. As we passed the table where I'd been seated earlier, I eyed the pint of beer I'd barely touched. It was destined to stay that way now. I had something far more interesting to do.
We tumbled out onto the street, the cold, frosty December air causing an involuntary shiver to wrack my body. My companion hailed a black cab and I followed him into the back of it. It dawned on me that I hadn't uttered a single word since this weird interlude began. It was time to change that. I glanced over at my companion. The man who'd already blown me, swallowed my cum, and who I was going to fuck. The man whose name I didn't even know. Nor had he asked for mine. Was this how things were done these days? Was I that far out of the casual-sex loop that all the rules had changed and I hadn't even realized it? The blue-eyed stranger's head was turned away from me, his gaze focused on the passing scenery outside the car window.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t even know your name.”
His gaze flitted in my direction before returning back to where it had started. “You can speak. I was beginning to wonder.”
I waited, doubt slowly starting to creep in, its insidious fingers wrapping themselves around my brain. What the hell was I doing? I hadn't bothered to listen when he'd given instructions to the driver so I didn't have a clue where he'd told him to take us. I could ask him. But if he wasn't even willing to volunteer his name, then it was doubtful he was going to repeat information he'd already given, just because I wasn't listening. At the moment, we were still in Battersea, the streets comfortingly familiar. The sensible thing to do would be to get the driver to stop while I could still walk home. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him to do exactly that when the man next to me spoke first.
“Tom. My name’s Tom. What’s yours?”
I relaxed slightly, thoughts of telling the cab to stop drifting away under the strange, comforting blanket of a name. “Aiden.”
“Pleased to meet you, Aiden. I’d shake your hand but I think we’ve already gone past that point.”
Heat crept up my cheeks and I was grateful for the gloom in the back of the cab. I wanted to ask him if he did this a lot and what had made him come over and speak to me. Well, apart from the fact that I'd been broadcasting my interest to the entire pub. But with the name exchange done, Tom had returned to his vigil at the window, so I stayed silent, using the cover of darkness and the fact that his attention was focused elsewhere to study him.
He was younger than I was. If I had to guess, I’d have put him somewhere in his mid-twenties, which was a good five to six years younger than I was. I'd dated guys who were a couple of years younger but nothing beyond that. But then, this wasn't a date, was it? It was... I wasn't sure of the current vernacular. A hook-up?
I continued my inventory. Black jeans, a red T-shirt depicting some sort of band I’d never heard of. At least I assumed they were a band. I couldn't think what else they could be. He had a slim build like a gymnast—a marked contrast to my own bulky muscles. Tom hadn't seemed to mind though. In fact, the way his fingers had traced the muscles of my abs almost reverently had screamed that muscles were his thing. An expensive-looking leather jacket topped off his outfit.
My gaze drifted upward—clean shaven, sharp cheekbones and of course those gorgeous lips. My dick twitched at the memory of them wrapped around it. Would he do that again when we got to wherever we were going? Maybe if I asked nicely. I wondered what his cock was like, the anticipation of getting to find out making me shift restlessly in my seat. Dragging my mind away from sex, I took in the last few details on display that I hadn't already catalogued. Very little jewelry, a watch and one studded earring in his left ear that looked like a diamond, but was more likely to be some cheap imitation.
Resigned to there being no further conversation between the two of us, I pulled my phone out, finding a text from one of my closest friends and workmates.
JT: Thought you might be down at the pub, mate? Was going to join you for one.
Tapping out a quick response, I relaxed back into the seat and closed my eyes. It wasn't until the cab lurched to a halt that I opened them again. I sat up straight, squinting at the house we'd pulled up in front of and wondering if there'd been some sort of mistake. “Where are we?”
Tom glanced up from where he was paying the driver. “Richmond.”
Richmond. Home of the wealthy. “And you live here?”
He nodded, already reaching for the handle to open the cab door.
I turned my attention back to the house. To say it was huge would be an understatement. There had to be at least ten bedrooms in a house that size. It was set away from the street at the end of a long driveway, the entrance blocked by a sturdy wrought iron gate, the security system flashing its warning from a distance. The place reeked of money. A house this size in an area this affluent couldn't have cost anything less than five million pounds. How the hell did someone in their twenties get to live in a place like this? Had he inherited it? Or was he some sort of business genius who’d made it big at a young age? The man in question was already out of the cab. He leaned back in. “Are you coming?”
That was an excellent question. Was I? The house had thrown me for a loop and I wasn’t sure I wanted to set foot inside it. I barely had enough money at the end of the week to afford food. Whereas if Tom lived here, my monthly rent was spare change to him. We were worlds apart. What was I... his bit of rough? His walk on the wild side?
A polite cough from the cab driver forced me into making a decision. I'd come this far so it seemed churlish to refuse to get out just because Tom was rich. I joined him by the gate, Tom radiating impatience. He'd already deactivated the security code and had the gate held open. I stepped through, waiting a few moments while he closed it. Then I followed him down the driveway, the gravel crunching loudly beneath our feet. Just like in the cab, Tom remained silent. It seemed like my blow job companion—and soon-to-be fuck partner—wasn't much of a talker. We came to a halt in front of a large, ornate front door, a huge Christmas wreath covering almost the top half. Tom pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked it before ushering me inside.
My gaze flitted around as I tried to take in as many details about the house as I could, starting with the entrance hall where we were currently standing. It was decorated in neutral tones, a few paintings the only thing to break up the bare expanse of wall. The carpet was deep and plush, my feet sinking into the luxurious pile. It was the sort of carpet that made you feel guilty when you realized, as I did now, that you were still wearing shoes. Tom hadn't asked me to remove them though, so I had to assume it was okay. The entrance hall was dominated by a curved staircase, its carved mahogany balustrade leading to the rooms upstairs. Above my head, there was an honest-to-God chandelier, like the ones I'd only ever seen in stately homes or on the TV before.
All the doors leading off from the entrance hall were closed, apart from one. I made an effort to peer into the murky gloom, but the only thing I could make out was a huge Christmas tree. It was clear from everything I'd seen that this house was way out of my league. It would follow, then, that Tom was too.
If he'd been aware of my wide-eyed stare as I took in my surroundings, he was too polite to mention it. He inclined his head toward the staircase. “Let’s go straight upstairs."
RJ Scott is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over 140 romance and suspense novels. From bodyguards to hockey stars, princes to millionaires, cowboys to military heroes to every-day heroes, she believes that love is love and every man deserves a happy ending.
Meredith Russell lives in the heart of England. An avid fan of many story genres, she enjoys nothing less than a happy ending. She believes in heroes and romance and strives to reflect this in her writing. Sharing her imagination and passion for stories and characters is a dream Meredith is excited to turn into reality.
Riley Knight is an avid reader and has always had a soft spot for gay romances. What could be better than a sweet story between two beautiful men who need each other? It only seemed logical for Riley to write these steamy, emotional romances, focusing on an emotional and happy ending.
When not reading or writing, Riley can be found wandering the landscape and loves to go for long walks and observe all sorts of people and situations.
Brigham Vaughn
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time author. 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 to novels. They explore gay, bisexual, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
Michele is married to an awesome husband that puts up with her and all the characters in her head—and there are many. They live together in Baltimore, Maryland with their two young boys and two crazy dogs. She grew up dancing and swimming and taught dance—ballet, tap, jazz, hip hop, & modern—for ten years before her kids came along. Now she stays home to write about the sexy men in her head and does PTA everything—as long as coffee is involved. Two other tattooed moms run the PTA with her, and though she wants to rip her hair out from it, she still loves it.
H.L Day grew up in the North of England. As a child she was an avid reader, spending lots of time at the local library or escaping into the imaginary worlds created by the books she read. Her grandmother first introduced her to the genre of romance novels, as a teenager, and all the steamy sex they entailed. Naughty Grandma! Romance novels were forgotten for a while when real life got in the way: university, clubbing, work, moving to London, and more work.
When life settled down (slightly) H.L Day stumbled upon the world of m/m romance. She remained content to read other people’s books for a while, before deciding to give it a go herself.
Now, she’s a teacher by day and a writer by night. Actually, that’s not quite true—she’s a teacher by day, procrastinates about writing at night and writes in the school holidays, when she’s not continuing to procrastinate. After all, there’s books to read, places to go, people to see, the gym to visit, films to watch. So many things to do—so few hours to do it in. Every now and again, she musters enough self-discipline to actually get some words onto paper—sometimes they even make sense and are in the right order.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Meredith Russell
EMAIL: meredithrussell666@gmail.com
Riley Knight
Brigham Vaughn
SMASHWORDS / PINTEREST / SCRIBd / B&N
EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com
Michele Notaro
H.L Day
Gideon by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
Christmas in Paris by Riley Knight
Cabin Fever by Brigham Vaughn
Wishing on a Dream by Michele Notaro
