Summary:
Snow & Winter #1
It’s Christmas, and all antique dealer Sebastian Snow wants is for his business to make money and to save his floundering relationship with closeted CSU detective, Neil Millett. When Snow’s Antique Emporium is broken into and a heart is found under the floorboards, Sebastian can’t let the mystery rest.
He soon finds himself caught up in murder investigations that echo the macabre stories of Edgar Allan Poe. To make matters worse, Sebastian’s sleuthing is causing his relationship with Neil to crumble, while at the same time he’s falling hard for the lead detective on the case, Calvin Winter. Sebastian and Calvin must work together to unravel the mystery behind the killings, despite the mounting danger and sexual tension, before Sebastian becomes the next victim.
In the end, Sebastian only wants to get out of this mess alive and live happily ever after with Calvin.
He soon finds himself caught up in murder investigations that echo the macabre stories of Edgar Allan Poe. To make matters worse, Sebastian’s sleuthing is causing his relationship with Neil to crumble, while at the same time he’s falling hard for the lead detective on the case, Calvin Winter. Sebastian and Calvin must work together to unravel the mystery behind the killings, despite the mounting danger and sexual tension, before Sebastian becomes the next victim.
In the end, Sebastian only wants to get out of this mess alive and live happily ever after with Calvin.
I'm not going to say "I forgot how great the beginning of this series was" because I didn't forget, how could I? Sebastian Snow & Calvin Winter are so brilliant. Like I said, I didn't forget but it was still exciting and fun to go back and revisit the beginning of their journey. The fact that The Mystery of Nevermore is set at Christmastime is just icing on the cake . . . or better yet frosting on the Christmas cookie😉. Now that I discovered the audiobook version with the amazing narration of Derrick McClain, I think it's safe to say this may actually become an annual holiday tradition. With names like Snow & Winter, I can't think of a better or more fitting couple to help celebrate the season, even if their lives are filled with murder and mayhem😉😉.
Original Review September 2018:
When Sebastian Snow comes into his antique shop one morning he can smell something isn't right and when a heart is found under the floorboard, suddenly his life is changed. When Calvin Winter and his partner are sent to Snow’s Antique Emporium to investigate a heart under the floorboard he never expected to find his life changed. Will Snow and Winter find a connection beyond the murders straight out of Edgar Allan Poe and will they even survive?
I'm just going to jump out of the gate and say WOW!!! How this series has slipped my reader radar I have no idea but now that I found it I am loving it! I'll admit that Snow & Winter may not make my annual re-read list but I do know that I will pay them another visit down the road😉 They may not be at the top of my Top 10 Crime-Fighting Duo list but they certainly made the list and to be completely honest the notches between numbers 4, 5, & 6 are so small I would never want to place a bet on something so minute.
Edgar Allan Poe has been the basis for many book mysteries and I have yet to read any that aren't uniquely done. The books and stories the writers use may have been used before but there is so much room for interpretation with Poe's work that they are always originally done and CS Poe has put her own intriguing spin to it. That's all I'm going to say towards the mystery side of The Mystery of Nevermore except I will add that I was guessing all the way to the reveal and that alone makes this a keeper as I am rarely surprised right up to the end anymore because I have been reading/watching mysteries for nearly all of my 44 years on this earth.
As for Snow and Winter themselves, well what's not to love? Sebastian Snow is an antique dealer that has an unlikely(or not so unlikely in fictional settings) ability to find himself in the middle of trouble. Who knew antiquing could be so dangerous? I love his respect for history and his determination to discover what's going on. As for Calvin Winter, he may not be out of the closet yet but he knows that Seb is a special person even if he is a trouble magnate who doesn't exactly listen. Together they have the potential be extraordinary.
RATING:
When Sebastian Snow comes into his antique shop one morning he can smell something isn't right and when a heart is found under the floorboard, suddenly his life is changed. When Calvin Winter and his partner are sent to Snow’s Antique Emporium to investigate a heart under the floorboard he never expected to find his life changed. Will Snow and Winter find a connection beyond the murders straight out of Edgar Allan Poe and will they even survive?
I'm just going to jump out of the gate and say WOW!!! How this series has slipped my reader radar I have no idea but now that I found it I am loving it! I'll admit that Snow & Winter may not make my annual re-read list but I do know that I will pay them another visit down the road😉 They may not be at the top of my Top 10 Crime-Fighting Duo list but they certainly made the list and to be completely honest the notches between numbers 4, 5, & 6 are so small I would never want to place a bet on something so minute.
Edgar Allan Poe has been the basis for many book mysteries and I have yet to read any that aren't uniquely done. The books and stories the writers use may have been used before but there is so much room for interpretation with Poe's work that they are always originally done and CS Poe has put her own intriguing spin to it. That's all I'm going to say towards the mystery side of The Mystery of Nevermore except I will add that I was guessing all the way to the reveal and that alone makes this a keeper as I am rarely surprised right up to the end anymore because I have been reading/watching mysteries for nearly all of my 44 years on this earth.
As for Snow and Winter themselves, well what's not to love? Sebastian Snow is an antique dealer that has an unlikely(or not so unlikely in fictional settings) ability to find himself in the middle of trouble. Who knew antiquing could be so dangerous? I love his respect for history and his determination to discover what's going on. As for Calvin Winter, he may not be out of the closet yet but he knows that Seb is a special person even if he is a trouble magnate who doesn't exactly listen. Together they have the potential be extraordinary.
RATING:
Summary:
They say anything can happen at Christmas...
Two best friends have been in love with each other for years, but neither of them have ever said anything or even hinted at their feelings. John, with lingering injuries, is in chronic pain, and his massage therapist best friend, Brett, tries to help.
Both of them are surprised when sparks fly when they touch. But could it work out, with John being so closeted? It would take a miracle!
Tis the Season to be Merry in Christmas Miracle, a 50,000 word friends-to-lovers gay romance from Riley Knight to keep you warm all December long! Adults only, and Merry Christmas!
Summary:
Bake Sale Bachelors Season Two #1
Dr. Christobel Zanella loves Christmas when he has time for it. The decor, the parties, the cookies, the auction. The auction?
When his friend and fellow little asks him to do the bake sale bachelor auction, he can't say no. It is for a good cause. He just adds it to the ever-growing list of things he has trouble juggling. Being a doctor, an omega, a little. It’s a lot, especially alone.
If only he had the right kind of daddy to balance him out and take care of his needs. But daddies always ask him to give up his career, and that’s a hard limit for him.
For Officer Dennison Marglin attending the auction seemed like a good idea. Finding a boy seemed like an impossibility, but a nice dinner with someone new would be worth the donation.
Winning a date with Christobel was a dream come true. It seemed as if his luck was taking a turn for the better. Taking care of Christobel when he needs a daddy gave Dennison purpose again.
But Christobel resists and pushes him away, and out of respect Dennison listens.
When tragedy strikes the hospital and both Dennison and Christobel are on administrative leave, they turn to each other to get through.
A temporary arrangement meant to prevent burnout could become the catalyst that keeps them together… but only if they are willing.
Mint Chocolate Mayhem is the first book in the Bake Sale Bachelors season 2 series. It features mpreg, light age-play romance, and a sweet happy ever after.
A Christmas Break by Annabelle Jacobs
Summary:Christmas is a time for giving, not lusting after your brother’s best mate.
Finn’s never had the Christmas of his dreams, and this year isn’t shaping up to be much better. Then he rents his spare room out to Jasper, and life begins to look up.
Laid back Jasper is nothing like Finn expects. He’s hot, sweet, and easy to talk to. Finn could easily fall for him. But, he’s his brother’s best friend. He’s off limits, and Finn would never break that sacred rule...right?
Jasper’s carried a torch for his best mate’s brother for years. Living with him sparks an old flame to light, and the more time they spend together, the brighter it burns. Finn is gorgeous and kind. He’s everything Jasper has ever wanted.
But he’s also scarred by old wounds, and reluctant to let his guard down again. Friendship blooms, and for a short while, it’s enough. But the fire between them is undeniable. Finn can fight it as much as he likes.
He won’t win.
A Christmas Break is a festive MM romance. Expect: a swoony best friend’s brother, old friendships that fast turn to love, sweet roommate romance, and lots of naughty rescue cats.
Summary:
Noel hired Santa to help his photography business. He wound up with so much more.
Noel’s photography business is thriving. Every single slot in his Magical Christmas photo shoots were booked and paid in full. He is looking forward to the best holiday season yet… until everything falls apart. A gas explosion destroys his location, the owner of the reindeer he booked changes their mind, and the Santa he hired decides he’d rather visit Hawaii that fulfill his contract. Now he has two days to relocate, re-set, and rehire. What he really needs is a little bit of Christmas Magic.
Alpha Christopher, affectionately known to his friends as Santa, is completely ready for the holidays with just over a month to go. Having never happened before, he’s unsure what to do with his spare time when a friend shows him the perfect thing to occupy his time: Help Wanted: Santa (reindeer not required but a plus). He applies ready to spread a little Christmas Magic.
When Noel meets Christopher, he hires him on the spot. He is absolutely perfect for the job, even without his picture-perfect sleigh and adorably obedient reindeer. He also stirs something inside Noel, something he long gave up hope finding again: love.
Santa’s Baby is a super sweet with knotty heat MM Mpreg Holiday Romance featuring a photographer who has everything to lose, a Santa who may just be the real thing, more Christmas cookies than anyone should eat in a lifetime, a magical sleigh ride that leaves more than just Santa’s bag being filled, Christmas wish lists a mile long, a Christmas miracle or two, including an adorable baby on the way. If you enjoy true love, fated mates, a little bit of whimsy, and your mpreg with heart, download Santa’s Baby today.
Random Tales of Christmas 2020
The Mystery of Nevermore by CS Poe
SOMETHING WAS rotten.
SOMETHING WAS rotten.
I didn’t mean in a figurative sense. I meant something smelled like it was decaying.
“Shit,” I muttered. I stood at the door of my antique shop, hand to my nose.
Tupperware. It had to be an old lunch.
It was a wintry, miserable Tuesday in New York City, two weeks’ shy of Christmas. The snow was coming down heavily at seven in the morning, blanketing the city and producing an eerie, muted effect. I had shown up early to my business, Snow’s Antique Emporium, in downtown Manhattan, with the intention of going through some newly acquired inventory. Instead, I was dripping melted snow onto the welcome mat and trying to pinpoint that god-awful stench.
I quickly hung up my jacket and hat and changed out of my boots into an old pair of worn loafers beside the door. I ran my fingers through my unruly hair and smoothed the front of my sweater while walking down the tiny, crowded aisles. I stopped to turn on old lamps as I followed the smell. The glow of the lights was subdued, creating a cavernous look for the shop.
At the counter that had an old brass register on it, I took the step up onto the elevated floor, scanning the shop. It smelled even worse here. I reached into my sweater pocket and replaced my sunglasses with black-framed reading glasses. Turning on the bank lamp, I winced and looked away from the light.
I stared at the door standing ajar to my right. It was a tiny little closet that served as an office, with a computer and chair and mini fridge all tucked away for my use.
Does forgotten Thai food smell like death after two days?
I walked in, opened the fridge, and hesitantly sniffed a few cartons. Okay, I needed to do some serious cleaning, but what seemed like a half-eaten burrito was not the source of the odor.
I walked back to the register, groaning loudly as I looked around. Something had to have died—a rat, perhaps? I cringed at the thought of finding a New York City rodent in my shop, but I crouched down and started shoving aside bags and boxes used at checkout while I looked.
The front door opened, the bell chiming overhead. “Good morn—what’s that smell?” my assistant, Max, called. “Sebastian?”
“Over here,” I grumbled.
Max Ridley was a sweet guy, a recent college grad with an art degree he realized rather too quickly wasn’t going to pay his rent. He was smart and knew his history. I’d hired him the same day he’d come in to fill out an application. Max was tall and broad-shouldered—a handsome young man who was maybe bisexual or maybe just out to experience it all. I’d heard enough stories over morning coffee, reading mail, and pricing antiques to know Max’s preference seemed to be mostly anyone.
Call me old-fashioned, but I’m a one-man sort of guy.
“God, the weather sucks today. Do you think it’ll be busy?” Max asked as he strolled through the shop.
“Usually is,” I said, looking up over the counter.
“What did you leave sitting out?”
“Nothing. I think a rat died or something.”
“Can I turn on more lights? It’ll be easier to find.”
“I already have a headache,” I said absently. I crouched back down to finish moving out the supplies from under the counter.
I was born with achromatopsia, which means I can’t see color. We have two types of light receptor cells in our eyes, cones and rods. Cones see color in bright light, rods see black and white in low light. My cones don’t work. At all. The world to me exists only in varying shades of gray, and I have a difficult time seeing in places with bright lights because the rods aren’t meant for daylight purposes. Usually I wear sunglasses or my special red-tinted contacts as an extra layer of protection….
“I forgot my contacts. And the snow was too bright.”
“Even for shades?”
“Yes. Damn, where is that smell coming from?” I asked while standing.
Max motioned to the register. “Smells the worst right here.”
“Yeah.” I walked back to the steps and promptly fell forward when the creaky floorboard underfoot skidded sideways.
Max lunged out and grabbed me before I could plant my face on the floor. He held me tight, my face smooshed against his armpit. “Did you have another fight with Neil last night?”
“Why?” I asked as I pulled myself free from his hold.
“You’ve got some bad mojo following you around this morning.”
“It wasn’t a fight. It was—you know, I’m not talking about it while the smell of rot continues to permeate my shop.” I turned back to the step and bent to examine the floorboard that had become free.
Bad idea. The stench of decay filled my nostrils, and I fought back the urge to gag.
“I think you found it,” Max muttered, looking down over my shoulder. “I’ll get a bag.”
I nodded silently, holding my nose while I looked into the opening under the floor. It—the thing—wasn’t dark, like a dead rat. It didn’t appear to have fur, but I’d be lying if I said I had great vision when it came to close-up details.
“Max? Come here.”
“What?” His voice came from the office before he joined me with a garbage bag. “What’s up?”
“Look in there.”
“Oh come on. You don’t pay me enough for that.”
“No, I mean, I don’t think that’s a rat.”
Max got down on one knee and glanced inside before quickly pulling back. “What the hell!”
I stared at the floor. “Tear up the planks! Here, here!—It is the beating of his hideous heart!”
“What is that?”
“Poe,” I replied.
“God, you’re so weird, Seb,” Max muttered.
“What else am I supposed to say?” I asked, pointing at the rotting flesh. “It’s a heart.”
“Who did you kill?”
“I’ll call the cops.”
“Shit,” I muttered. I stood at the door of my antique shop, hand to my nose.
Tupperware. It had to be an old lunch.
It was a wintry, miserable Tuesday in New York City, two weeks’ shy of Christmas. The snow was coming down heavily at seven in the morning, blanketing the city and producing an eerie, muted effect. I had shown up early to my business, Snow’s Antique Emporium, in downtown Manhattan, with the intention of going through some newly acquired inventory. Instead, I was dripping melted snow onto the welcome mat and trying to pinpoint that god-awful stench.
I quickly hung up my jacket and hat and changed out of my boots into an old pair of worn loafers beside the door. I ran my fingers through my unruly hair and smoothed the front of my sweater while walking down the tiny, crowded aisles. I stopped to turn on old lamps as I followed the smell. The glow of the lights was subdued, creating a cavernous look for the shop.
At the counter that had an old brass register on it, I took the step up onto the elevated floor, scanning the shop. It smelled even worse here. I reached into my sweater pocket and replaced my sunglasses with black-framed reading glasses. Turning on the bank lamp, I winced and looked away from the light.
I stared at the door standing ajar to my right. It was a tiny little closet that served as an office, with a computer and chair and mini fridge all tucked away for my use.
Does forgotten Thai food smell like death after two days?
I walked in, opened the fridge, and hesitantly sniffed a few cartons. Okay, I needed to do some serious cleaning, but what seemed like a half-eaten burrito was not the source of the odor.
I walked back to the register, groaning loudly as I looked around. Something had to have died—a rat, perhaps? I cringed at the thought of finding a New York City rodent in my shop, but I crouched down and started shoving aside bags and boxes used at checkout while I looked.
The front door opened, the bell chiming overhead. “Good morn—what’s that smell?” my assistant, Max, called. “Sebastian?”
“Over here,” I grumbled.
Max Ridley was a sweet guy, a recent college grad with an art degree he realized rather too quickly wasn’t going to pay his rent. He was smart and knew his history. I’d hired him the same day he’d come in to fill out an application. Max was tall and broad-shouldered—a handsome young man who was maybe bisexual or maybe just out to experience it all. I’d heard enough stories over morning coffee, reading mail, and pricing antiques to know Max’s preference seemed to be mostly anyone.
Call me old-fashioned, but I’m a one-man sort of guy.
“God, the weather sucks today. Do you think it’ll be busy?” Max asked as he strolled through the shop.
“Usually is,” I said, looking up over the counter.
“What did you leave sitting out?”
“Nothing. I think a rat died or something.”
“Can I turn on more lights? It’ll be easier to find.”
“I already have a headache,” I said absently. I crouched back down to finish moving out the supplies from under the counter.
I was born with achromatopsia, which means I can’t see color. We have two types of light receptor cells in our eyes, cones and rods. Cones see color in bright light, rods see black and white in low light. My cones don’t work. At all. The world to me exists only in varying shades of gray, and I have a difficult time seeing in places with bright lights because the rods aren’t meant for daylight purposes. Usually I wear sunglasses or my special red-tinted contacts as an extra layer of protection….
“I forgot my contacts. And the snow was too bright.”
“Even for shades?”
“Yes. Damn, where is that smell coming from?” I asked while standing.
Max motioned to the register. “Smells the worst right here.”
“Yeah.” I walked back to the steps and promptly fell forward when the creaky floorboard underfoot skidded sideways.
Max lunged out and grabbed me before I could plant my face on the floor. He held me tight, my face smooshed against his armpit. “Did you have another fight with Neil last night?”
“Why?” I asked as I pulled myself free from his hold.
“You’ve got some bad mojo following you around this morning.”
“It wasn’t a fight. It was—you know, I’m not talking about it while the smell of rot continues to permeate my shop.” I turned back to the step and bent to examine the floorboard that had become free.
Bad idea. The stench of decay filled my nostrils, and I fought back the urge to gag.
“I think you found it,” Max muttered, looking down over my shoulder. “I’ll get a bag.”
I nodded silently, holding my nose while I looked into the opening under the floor. It—the thing—wasn’t dark, like a dead rat. It didn’t appear to have fur, but I’d be lying if I said I had great vision when it came to close-up details.
“Max? Come here.”
“What?” His voice came from the office before he joined me with a garbage bag. “What’s up?”
“Look in there.”
“Oh come on. You don’t pay me enough for that.”
“No, I mean, I don’t think that’s a rat.”
Max got down on one knee and glanced inside before quickly pulling back. “What the hell!”
I stared at the floor. “Tear up the planks! Here, here!—It is the beating of his hideous heart!”
“What is that?”
“Poe,” I replied.
“God, you’re so weird, Seb,” Max muttered.
“What else am I supposed to say?” I asked, pointing at the rotting flesh. “It’s a heart.”
“Who did you kill?”
“I’ll call the cops.”
HAVING TO explain to the dispatcher that I needed police not because of a dead body, but there was a body out there missing an essential part, was certainly the strangest thing I’d done in some time. I’ll admit the situation piqued my interest, but there are 101 things in life I simply don’t have the patience for, and finding someone else’s rotting heart in the floorboards of my shop just about topped the list.
Max sprayed nearly an entire can of air freshener while we waited after the phone call. “Smells like fresh laundry,” he stated while reading the can.
“Oh good,” I said.
“Laundry and death,” Max corrected after a pause. “Sometimes I want to die instead of dragging my dirty clothes to the Laundromat.”
“Max.” I sighed.
“Sorry.”
I crossed my arms, looking toward the back of the shop at the piles of boxes that had been left there. When new inventory arrived, it needed to be carefully inspected, priced, and arranged in the shop. If it was too priceless for the shop, it needed to be listed for auction, not sitting in a damn box on the floor. Those and several more were collecting dust in my apartment. So much for finally getting around to it all this morning.
There was a rap at the door, and I walked over to unlock it. “Good morning.”
“Sir,” one of the uniformed officers said. “We got a call—”
“There’s a body part in my floor,” I quickly answered, leading them through the aisles toward the register.
It was pretty clear they’d been sent to dispel whatever fear or confusion the dispatcher thought I was experiencing, yet they followed without complaint or comment. The first officer removed his cap as he bent down to the opening I pointed at. He only glanced inside before shaking his head and rising.
“Brigg,” he spoke to his partner, and the woman approached.
I watched them confer briefly before she got on her radio. “So,” I said, “do we need some hazmat team or something?”
“Can I get your name, sir?” the officer replied as he removed a notepad from his belt.
“Sebastian Snow.”
“And do you run this business?”
“Yes.”
“Own the building?”
“No. I wish.”
He looked up. “Approximately when did you suspect something was in the store?”
“You mean—that?” I asked while looking down at the floor. “When I opened the door this morning, I could smell it. It was about seven.”
“Does anyone else have access to the store?” The officer looked over my shoulder at Max.
“Max has keys, but only I and—only I have access to the security code,” I explained.
The truth was, my partner of four years, Neil Millett, also had keys and the code, but mentioning his name around cops was a bit tricky. He was a detective with the NYPD’s forensic investigations unit, and very much in the closet. So much so that the only people who knew we were living together were Max and my father. Neil didn’t want other officers knowing he was gay, and when I was twenty-nine with a heart all aflutter for a sexy detective, I didn’t mind. Now I was thirty-three, and it was wearing me out.
The officer wrote down a few notes. “Do you have cameras? You have a lot of expensive-looking items in here.”
“I have one, but it’s been on the fritz for the past month.” I had been suffering from a lack of mental stamina lately and just hadn’t found the energy to give a shit about a number of things, camera included.
It wasn’t like me. I knew that.
Neil made a point of bringing up my recent attitude. A lot. It only pissed me off more.
The officer continued taking down my contact information, then asked for Max’s as well. A few more basic questions followed, and then Brigg led two plain-clothed cops from the front door toward us. Glancing around the now congested aisle, I saw yet another woman entering, carrying some sort of medical kit.
The overhead lights, which I never used, were switched on without warning, and the entire room was washed out of sight. I hastily covered my eyes and turned away, stumbling and reaching around the countertop. Max went to the other corner to avoid the police and the heart, grabbed my sunglasses, and handed them over just as someone spoke my name.
“Mr.… Snow, is it?” a woman asked.
Turning as I put on my shades, I was confronted with the two new cops. The woman who spoke was maybe my age and couldn’t have been an inch over five feet, with a strong build and closely cropped hair. The other, a man, was tall and big and filled out his suit with nothing but muscle. He looked older than Neil, who was thirty-seven. His hair was light, so I guessed it was what I have been told is blond.
I squinted to better study him. He had freckles. A lot, actually. I kind of had a thing for guys with freckles. Cheeks, nose, forehead—he had freckles all over, and it gave him a sort of sweet look initially. Maybe his hair was red instead.
“Sebastian Snow,” I agreed.
The woman took the lead, extending her hand to shake. “I’m Detective Quinn Lancaster, and this is my partner, Detective Calvin Winter.”
“Uh, hi.”
Lancaster smiled. “How’s business been, Mr. Snow?”
“Fine,” I said, confused. It was strange to be looking down at such a short figure of authority, but she had an air of confidence I wasn’t willing to question.
“What can you tell me about your clientele?” Lancaster continued.
I shrugged while crossing my arms. “Regular folks, some with big money, some looking for curiosities. Corporate types, hipsters—I get a little of everyone in here.”
She nodded. “Would it be all right if you removed your sunglasses, sir?”
“I can’t.”
Lancaster looked up at Winter briefly before asking, “Why’s that?”
“I have a light sensitivity. If you turn the overheads off, I will,” I said while pointing up.
Winter turned away and gave an order to one of the uniformed officers. The lights died and the shop was once again illuminated by the strategically placed lamps.
“Better?” Lancaster asked, her tone not mocking or unkind.
I pulled the sunglasses back to rest on my head as I put my regular glasses back on. “Thank you,” I said briskly.
“That’s called photophobia, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I have achromatopsia.”
“I see.” She didn’t bother for more details. “Has anything out of the ordinary happened in the past few weeks?”
“Nope.”
Lancaster frowned. “Who found the body part?”
“I did, when I came in. I smelled something awful and started looking for it.”
“Have there been any break-ins or stolen items?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “What’s this about? I’m assuming something bigger is at play here, otherwise you two wouldn’t be grilling me.”
“Why do you say that?” Lancaster asked.
“I live with a cop” was what I wanted to say. Four years of stories from Neil had, admittedly, given me an unhealthy interest in whodunit mysteries.
Instead, I just shrugged.
Winter spoke for the first time. “Do you know Bond Antiques?”
“Yeah, on Bond Street and Lafayette,” I confirmed.
“How is your relationship with the owner?”
“I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” I responded. “Mike Rodriguez and I have known each other for a while.”
“How do you get along?” Winter asked.
“He’s competition,” I stated. “What’s going on?”
“Sebastian!” called a familiar voice.
Ignoring the towering mountain that was Detective Winter, I looked around him to see Neil walking through the shop, shaking snow from his coat. I was immediately both happy and frustrated to see him, which didn’t seem like the right response. I hadn’t called to tell him what happened, so there should have been no reason for his appearance.
I turned to the counter. Max raised his hands up defensively and shook his head.
“What’s going on?” Neil asked upon reaching us. He looked at the two other detectives and removed a badge from inside his coat. “Detective Millett, CSU.”
Lancaster didn’t seem interested. “Detective Lancaster, homicide,” she replied with a nod. “My partner, Winter. We haven’t requested forensics yet.”
“Homicide?” I echoed. I mean, sure, I guess technically a heart without a body could mean something more sinister was at work besides a medical cadaver showing up to class and some poor student flunking when he had no heart to dissect.
I looked at Neil. He seemed concerned and maybe nervous, and for a minute, I was happy because he was worried about me. The annoyance I had been harboring toward him all morning suddenly washed away, and I had the urge to reach out for a hug.
“Sebastian is—a friend,” Neil said.
“Friend,” Winter repeated in a tone I didn’t like.
“He called me.”
Goddamn it, Neil. He was so convinced he’d lose his shield for having a life outside his job, that after four years I was still just his friend in public.
“We’re in the middle of asking Mr. Snow some questions,” Winter said before looking back at me. I swear his gaze was intense enough to strip me down to bare bones. “Mr. Rodriguez’s business was broken into Sunday night.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I answered, turning away from Neil. “Was anything stolen?”
“The investigation is still underway. He pointed a finger at you, though.”
“M-Me?” I asked in surprise. “What—Mike thinks I broke in?”
“Why would he say that?” Winter asked.
“I have no idea,” I quickly answered.
“Where were you Sunday night?” Lancaster asked. “After eight.”
I could feel Neil’s desperation rippling off his body. I had been at home with him. I believe around eight we had been fucking, which had ended prematurely and dissolved into an argument until about nine. That’s where I had been.
“Home,” I said simply. “Look, I’m not answering any more questions without a lawyer, if that’s what I need. I called because I found a human heart in my shop, and now you’re accusing me of robbing someone.”
Neil’s hand was on my elbow next, and he was excusing us while dragging me away. Stopping near the back of the shop, he let go and turned to tower over me. “What the hell is going on?” he whispered.
“What’s going on?” I repeated. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m a cop, Sebby—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What human heart? Why didn’t you call me?”
I honestly hadn’t thought to ring Neil. Maybe a year or two earlier, the first reaction I’d have had would be to call my cop boyfriend to come solve this peculiar little problem. Now, he hadn’t even crossed my mind. It was disconcerting.
“Nice lie you told, by the way,” I said instead. “I called you? Why the hell did you come if it wasn’t to be here for me?”
“Stop it,” he ordered in a harsh whisper. “We’re not having this argument again.”
“Go back to work, Neil. Everything is fine,” I said stubbornly.
“You didn’t….” He hesitated.
“Tell them about you? No. I know the drill.”
Neil gritted his jaw. He looked angry. He turned back to the other detectives before saying, “Is that Calvin Winter?”
“What? Yeah, why?”
“Be careful what you say to him.”
“Why, Neil?” I repeated.
“Because I hear he’s a homophobe,” Neil said.
Without thinking I replied, “You’re a homophobe.”
Neil looked back at me with a strange expression I couldn’t place. “Real nice, Sebby,” he said after a moment.
I couldn’t take it back, but when I stared up at Neil, when all of our recent arguments over the past month came rushing back, I didn’t care and didn’t want to take it back.
“Go back to work,” I said again. “We’ll talk at home, behind locked doors.”
I was making him angry, and I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know what had gotten into me lately. Neil and I had been at each other’s throats for weeks. I provoked him, or something he said got under my skin in ways it never did before.
Neil didn’t say another word. He turned while zipping up his coat and brushed by the other detectives in silence on his way out.
I took a breath. It was shaky. I was being cruel to the most important man in my life.
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose as Lancaster left the woman with the medical supplies and walked toward me with a smile.
“Good news, Mr. Snow.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s not human.”
Who, Neil? “The heart?”
“It’s a pig’s heart,” she replied.
“A minor relief.” I took another breath, working harder than necessary to calm myself. “So can I open for business?”
She spread her hands. “There’s been no foul play, although it seems like someone wanted to pull a prank on you. I highly suggest you invest in some tighter security.”
No foul play. My gut said otherwise. Two detectives—from homicide, no less—had shown up right away, and I played twenty questions regarding the unfortunate pig and Mike Rodriguez, the latter of which I found extremely strange. Why would time be wasted to send out detectives for something that proved to be nothing? And it still didn’t explain how the pig heart ended up in my shop to begin with.
Lancaster thanked me for my time, to which I muttered some pleasantry. She turned to leave with the medical examiner.
Winter, however, approached me. “Your friend seemed upset.”
I frowned while looking up. I was on the shorter side, only five foot nine, and both Neil and Winter stood a good half a foot taller. Neil was a leaner build, like myself, which was a stark contrast to the brick body that was Detective Winter. He was close enough again that I could study his freckles—which to me actually looked like gray blemishes. They’d be clearer if I invaded his personal space or looked at his skin with a magnifying glass.
Neither of those do I recommend doing to someone you’ve just met.
In comparison, his light-colored eyes were so brilliant and sharp, it was almost unnerving. They reminded me of minerals on display at the Museum of Natural History. They were gorgeous, but also maybe just a little weary. They looked like they’d seen something that had hardened and tired him considerably.
Winter swallowed up the air around me. He was both intimidating and somewhat comforting to be in the presence of. He smelled nice too. Some kind of spice—really different from Neil’s cologne.
“I didn’t break into Mike’s shop,” I said again. For the record.
His gaze shifted slightly to the boxes behind me. “What’s all this?”
I looked over my shoulder, then back at him. “New inventory.”
“From where?”
“Bond Antiques,” I retorted. “Jesus. It’s from an estate sale.”
He reached into his suit coat next, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he pulled his gun with the way I was shooting my mouth off. Instead, he handed me a business card. “Should you conveniently remember something.”
“Like slaughtering some pigs?” I shoved the card in my pocket.
“Have a good day, Mr. Snow.” He turned and walked out of the shop.
THE STORM seemed to have scared off the day’s foot traffic, which on any other afternoon would have worried me, being so close to the holidays when the sales are needed. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything business-related. My salad sat beside me at the register, half eaten and getting soggy as it settled into the pool of vinaigrette dressing. I held a magnifying glass to the mail as I read.
“Why not get bifocals?”
I looked up to see Max staring at me, pulling up the spare stool to sit. “What?”
“The magnifying glass is sort of silly. You pull them out of pockets like you’re an old-timey detective.”
“I tripped down the stairs wearing bifocals when I was younger,” I answered while setting the glass aside and stacking the junk and bills together. “Broke my arm.”
“Yikes.” Max reached out to push my salad around with the fork. If he planned on scalping my meal, the sogginess must have changed his mind. “So why was Neil here?”
“I don’t know.” I stood, brought the mail into the office, and dropped it on the desk.
The morning had been resting heavily on my mind. Usually I was closed on Mondays, but holiday demands often changed my schedule, so I had been open yesterday. When I closed the shop last night just after six, it gave someone a thirteen-hour window to break inside. Max and I had spent the remaining hours of the morning going through the Emporium, and from what we could tell, not a single item had been misplaced.
It was that concept that puzzled me the most. Why break into an antique shop, get past the security alarm, only to steal nothing?
So someone came in, put a decaying pig heart under the floorboards, and hightailed it without taking so much as an old button?
More upsetting was the matter with Mike Rodriguez. I had worked for Mike for a few years before going into business for myself. I respected his knowledge and the success of his shop—he’d been in this line of work for over twenty years now—but he was a cranky old fuck. He hadn’t liked me all that much when I worked for him, and I’m certain he felt slighted, to say the least, when I took everything I had learned to open the Emporium.
Mike specialized in higher-end antiques. Georgian and Victorian furniture, clothing, paintings, and other works of art. It wasn’t where my interests were, and the Emporium was cluttered and stuffed instead with books and old documents, maps, photos, and every little gizmo and gadget from another century. People enjoy the odd and bizarre, like Victorian glove stretchers or tear bottles. The Emporium was doing very well after only a few years of business, and I suspected Mike was insulted.
I walked back out of the office, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed my arms. Mike and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms these days—we certainly weren’t mailing each other Christmas cards—but how the hell had he come to the conclusion that I should be looked at as a possible suspect? Had he waited three years to seek revenge against me? And it wasn’t even revenge so much as insulting my integrity and character.
“Man, look at it coming down,” Max murmured as he stared out toward the front door, watching the storm continue.
“Jingle Bells” started to play on the shop’s speakers. Dashing through the snow, all right. The city was getting buried.
“Why don’t you get out of here early, Max.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The subways are going to be a wreck, I bet,” I said while walking to the counter.
“Are you leaving?”
Honestly, I wanted to swing by Mike’s place and ask him what was going on, but it didn’t seem like the smartest idea. Maybe I’d give him a call. That was less threatening. As much of an asshole as he was for accusing me of doing something like breaking into his place of business, we had a long history and I did want to make sure he was okay.
“Probably.”
“I’ll walk out with you, then,” Max replied as he stood and started cashing out the register for me.
The shop phone rang, and I reached to take it off the receiver. “Snow’s Antique Emporium.”
“It’s me.”
Neil. I collected myself. “Hey.”
“Busy?”
“We’re closing up early. The weather’s getting bad, and Max has to take the subway to Brooklyn.”
“I’m ducking out,” he replied. “I’ll swing by for you.”
“I can walk home.”
Neil took an aggravated breath. “Sebby, please don’t argue with me just once this month, okay? Let me pick you up.”
Why was I getting angry at him for wanting to drive me home instead of making me walk in this nasty weather? “All right. Thanks.”
“Want me to grab anything for dinner?”
“I thought I’d cook,” I said offhandedly. I was getting sick of takeout. Neil couldn’t cook to save his life, so it was up to me if we wanted a homemade meal.
“That sounds great,” he replied happily. “I’ll be there in twenty, tops.” He hung up, and I put the phone down.
“Neil’s coming to pick me up,” I said to Max. “I’ll finish closing. Why don’t you get out while you can.”
Max laughed and finished his counting. “Thanks, Seb.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow if the weather looks like we may have trouble opening.”
“I’ll plan to come in unless I hear otherwise.” He was out the door within moments, disappearing into the storm.
I locked the front door and collected my belongings. I packed my laptop into my messenger bag. On the off-chance we stayed closed, I could at least start cataloging the inventory I had at home. Of course, I’d been telling myself that for two weeks and never seemed to have the energy for it.
By the time I’d shut off the lights, secured the shop, and changed into my winter attire, Neil’s black BMW was parked out front.
The car had been another source of aggravation between us. I don’t have a license because of the amount of work those with achromatopsia have to go through in order to be permitted to drive. It isn’t worth the headache when I live in a city with such incredible public transportation. That being said, I had agreed to buy a car with Neil and pay for it together so we could vacation out of New York every once in a while.
Neil has expensive taste. He wouldn’t settle on anything less than a new luxury coupe. I didn’t understand the point—we’d save so much money with a decent used car. That argument had ended with me saying that I’d refuse to help with the payments, to which he had stubbornly agreed and told me to fuck myself. Out of childish spite, I had tried to refuse every ride offered thus far.
The car was warm when I opened the door and sat in the passenger’s seat. The windshield wipers worked hard to keep the heavy, sticky snow off the glass. Neil was listening to some Christmas tunes and looking like his cool, sexy self. I had to admit he looked good behind the wheel of this car.
He smiled. “Ready?”
“Yup.”
Neil pulled back onto the road, taking it slow down the streets already buried in snow and brown slush. “You may get snowed in tomorrow if this keeps up like the weather predictions claim.”
“Will you have to go in?” I asked.
“Public servants don’t get snow days. Warm enough?”
I muttered a response and fell silent. We lived in a cramped, too-small-for-two Manhattan apartment not far from my store. It wouldn’t usually take so long to reach, but the road was completely buried, and cars ahead were already slipping and sliding. Neil wasn’t taking chances by driving fast.
I looked at his profile, seeing the same handsome face I’d known for years. He told me he had brown eyes and sandy brown hair, comparing it to coffee with too much cream in it. Whatever the color, he had always been attractive to me, and he aged wonderfully. I saw the man I had fallen in love with, staring at him.
Why had we been fighting so much?
My good old dad said it was because I was losing my mind being shoved back into the closet for the sake of Neil’s paranoia. I had denied it for years, that it would eventually make me nuts, but lately it seemed like Pop had been on to something. I had been out since college, and I was proud of who I was. Neil had been my first serious relationship, and it had thrown me for a spin to learn he wasn’t out.
It still threw me.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“For giving you attitude this morning.” I stared at my hands. “Why did you come to the Emporium?”
He sighed. “I was in the right place to overhear detectives being dispatched to the address. I thought something was wrong—something happened to you.”
“Thanks for being worried.” I snorted and shook my head. “That sounds weird.”
“I get what you mean.” He removed one hand briefly from the steering wheel to pat my thigh.
NEIL DROPPED me off on our street and went to find a place to park. I let myself into the building, hiking the three floors of old, rickety stairs to our one-bedroom apartment. The pipes were clanking loudly as the water heaters were turning on. I hung up my coat and hat and put my boots in the closet. I dropped my bag on the foot of our bed before turning on a few lamps around the apartment.
I know Neil didn’t like living in such a dark home, but he was polite and dealt with it without a word of complaint so I didn’t need to wear sunglasses inside. I had tried to keep my condition a secret from him for a long time. It got really hard when he’d ask something like “Could you grab my navy blue button-down for me?” or “Pass the green salsa?” while eating Mexican. It ended up coming out when he found my collapsed walking stick in my bag one evening while searching for a condom.
I laughed quietly to myself, opening the fridge in the kitchen. That had killed the mood. I thought then and there he’d break up with me. Both boyfriends I had had before left me because of my condition. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was a burden, I guess. Neil had stayed with me, though, and that mattered.
I heard Neil at the door, removing his coat and shoes while I was chopping onions and peppers in the kitchen. I tossed the diced veggies into a pot to let them cook while I opened two cans of tomato sauce.
“Spaghetti?” Neil called, the smell familiar.
“We need to go shopping,” I answered. “Not many other options.”
He stepped around me and opened the fridge. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
He popped the tops off two bottles, set one on the counter beside me, and leaned back against the opposite side. “So tell me what happened this morning.”
I recited the story again for what felt like the hundredth time while I doctored up the sauce with salt, pepper, Tabasco, and whatever spices I could find deep in the cupboard. “But it wasn’t human. It was a pig heart.”
“What did the detectives say?”
I shrugged. “Lancaster told me to open for business and get better security.”
“And that Winter fellow?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Why don’t you like him?”
“I told you why.”
“He let the questioning about Mike drop and left.” I had turned back to stir the sauce, but paused and looked at Neil. “You haven’t heard anything about that, have you? Mike’s break-in?”
Neil shook his head before taking a swig of beer. “Someone else’s case, not mine.”
“Why do you think Mike would accuse me of breaking into his store?”
“Because he’s a prick.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothing,” Neil interrupted. “He’s always had it out for you, Seb.”
Taking a drink of beer, I considered my next comment. “I was thinking about giving him a call tonight.”
Neil stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You’re not stupid, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Sebby, stay the hell out of it. Let the police investigate what happened to Mike, and don’t be an idiot and harass him.”
“Who said anything about harassment? I was just going to see if he’s all right.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Neil replied. “The police don’t need to see you’ve been contacting him after he pointed his finger at you in the first place, okay?”
Neil had a valid point, of course, and who would know better what a cop would think than another cop?
Taking a drink and giving dinner my full attention, I zoned back in when I heard him saying my name.
“Seb, promise you won’t stick your nose where it’s not supposed to be.”
“Why do you think I will?”
That question made Neil laugh. “Because you like the thrill. The two hundred mystery novels on the bookcase in the living room say so.”
“I don’t have two hundred,” I said defensively. But so what? I liked a good brainteaser.
“Seb,” he said again, more sternly.
“I won’t,” I insisted, getting annoyed. “I get it.” Before Neil could say another word, I said, “How the heart ended up in the shop has yet to be explained.”
“Hmm?”
“How’d a pig’s heart get under the floorboards, Neil?” I asked while turning. “I didn’t put it there, and I was the one to close up last night. I didn’t forget to lock the gate or set the alarm.”
“It was probably a prank,” he said simply, shrugging.
“A prank?” I echoed. “By who?”
“I don’t know. Kids—teenagers. Someone sick in the head. Come on. You’ve been busy as hell at the Emporium. You and Max can’t keep an eye on everything all the time.”
Again, what Neil said could have very easily been true. Minus today, we had been slammed since before Thanksgiving. There was always a handful of customers roaming about at one time, inventory coming in, items going out for auction—I couldn’t always watch everything.
“But what’s the point?”
“What’s the point of a hotdog-eating contest?” Neil countered with a laugh. “People do stupid things sometimes, Seb.”
“I guess. It’s a little dramatic, though. ‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”
“The what?”
“Poe,” I said. “It is the beating of his hideous heart!”
“Oh, yeah, I think I remember reading that in school,” Neil replied thoughtfully.
“An old man with a blind eye is murdered and cut up. The murderer thinks he hears the heart under the floorboards where he put the body,” I explained. “He goes mad with guilt while the police are there looking into a possible disturbance.”
“Well, damn.”
“Good thing I’m only legally blind,” I said sarcastically.
NEIL AND I watched some police procedural drama while we ate, which really was just Neil complaining for forty-five minutes that the forensics team was handling the scene incorrectly, and no one got DNA results back that quickly. Disgruntled, he ended up channel-surfing before finding Home Alone and settling on that.
“I always wanted to do this,” he said as we sat in the dark, sipping wine later in the evening.
“Be Macaulay Culkin?”
“Catch bad guys,” Neil replied.
“You do,” I pointed out. “Just with big-boy toys. You’re a little too old for tar on the stairs and BB guns.”
Neil wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I got comfortable in his embrace. It was nice to be enjoying the evening together and not fighting about stupid shit. Neil must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned close and kissed the top of my head.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey, what?” I responded, looking up. Believe it or not, my vision was considerably better in the dark. Neil’s finer details were easier for me to see here.
“Why don’t we hightail it out of here?”
“To where?” I laughed.
“The next room over.” Neil leaned forward, setting our glasses on the coffee table before getting to his feet.
I stood, taking Neil’s offered hand, and let him lead me into our cramped bedroom.
He stopped to put my bag against the wall and shut the door.
“Afraid someone will see?”
He paused before turning to look at me. “To keep the cold air out, Seb,” he corrected in that voice I’d come to learn as the Sebastian, you’re being irrational tone. I did not like it, because he used that tone on me whenever a discussion of his sexuality reared its ugly head.
Neil reached out, grabbed my waist and the back of my head, and kissed me hard. He tasted a little sweet and a little bitter, which about summed up our relationship. He had lost his suit coat and tie since arriving home, but I quickly helped with the remaining shirt and trousers. Neil was busy tossing aside my slacks and sweater when he laughed against my mouth.
“What?”
“You dress like a grandpa,” he whispered.
“I like that sweater.”
“It’s older than you.”
“I’m not trying to win a fashion contest.”
Clothes shopping was stressful for me. Department stores were so bright, and there was apparently a concept of clashing colors. My idea of adding new options to my wardrobe was heading out to secondhand shops with Pop, letting him grab a dozen items in dark colors he says won’t hurt anyone’s eyes if I mix and match, then we’re out in ten minutes.
“We’ll get you a nicer sweater,” Neil said, kissing my neck.
“I like that one,” I replied.
“It’s from Goodwill.”
“So? I don’t need some three hundred dollar Ralph Lauren sweater when that one does a fine job of keeping me warm,” I said defensively.
“Are you done, Sebby?” Neil asked, pulling back to stare at me. “Do you really want to argue right now?”
I didn’t, of course not. I was sick of fighting, tired of every conversation ending in one of us getting frustrated with the other. Staring at Neil in the near dark, a familiar and awful thought came to mind again.
I wasn’t what he really wanted.
It was stupid shit like the sweater. What did it matter if I wore something a little frumpy? He wanted to have me wear something chic and fashionable, like the damn car.
“Seb?”
I shook my head, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed Neil, trying to get back into the mood.
When was the moment our relationship turned?
He pushed me down onto the bed, kissing and sucking down my chest and stomach.
When we moved in together, maybe.
I was turned onto my belly, and the snap of a bottle preceded a warm, oily finger pressing into me.
When had I grown so defensive? So bitter and resentful toward my partner?
Neil’s hands were on my hips, raising me up before he pushed in roughly.
I gritted my teeth as he started thrusting.
I didn’t like who I had become.
Christmas Miracle by Riley Knight
It would take a miracle.
No big deal, they happened every day, right? But as Brett looked over at the person who meant the most in the world to him, the person who he knew very well that he had almost lost, he had to admit to himself that it was never going to happen. This particular miracle was going to be forever out of his reach.
He was just lucky that he had John back with him. That after almost dying, John had come home, come back to Brett. After all, John could have gone anywhere after being discharged, but he had come back to a city where he had nothing, no job, a crappy little apartment that Brett knew John could barely afford, with the military pension that he had gotten.
John had come back to Boston, though, and Brett knew that it was at least partially him. Or maybe even mostly him. And that, too, meant the world to him. Brett’s friendship with John was definitely not everything that he might have wanted from it, but it was the most relationship, by far, in Brett’s life. Any sign that John felt the same was something he cherished.
Look at the man now, sitting in front of the television. Only maybe sitting wasn’t exactly the right word, because John didn’t exactly sit. He draped himself, one foot up on the coffee table, spread out against the side and back of the couch, letting it support his strong, massive body.
John wouldn’t notice if Brett looked. He was watching the hockey game, the Bruins playing the Kings, and the Kings were up by one. The world could have ended outside, and Brett knew that John would never have noticed. Not as long as the massive men who moved with an odd grace over the frozen ice kept on moving, kept on trying to get the puck into the net.
It wasn’t the first time that Brett, furtive and guilty, had watched John as John watched the television. So he let himself take in every detail, gazed in wonder. He was thinking a lot about miracles these days. Maybe it was the Christmas season, the messages of cheer and joy and hope that were everywhere he looked.
Though he would never embarrass John that way, Brett wanted to tell him what a miracle he thought John was. So beautiful, a study in contradictions, with those round, soft emerald eyes and the full lips, almost too pretty for a man.
Once, before the army had toughened him up, made him broad and thick with muscle, John had looked different. Brett saw the differences now, though when John smiled, he knew that those differences would fade, at least to him. But there were the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes, and those had never been there before. The strong body, that was a given, though John had always been stocky as well as tall.
John was too young for those crow’s feet, even as handsome and distinguished as Brett secretly thought that they made him look. He was too young for the haunted look that sometimes came into those eyes, because John, Brett knew, had given his country more than just his youthful energy. More than nearly eighteen years of his life.
Brett looked at him, looked at his profile, frowning slightly. He traced over the full, beautifully molded shape of those impossibly pretty lips, the determined nose, the sweep of long lashes as John blinked. Greedily, he stored up the details, because he had learned, after all the years apart, that he could lose John at any time. Almost two decades could pass, with only occasional visits to bolster Brett against the absence.
“Uh, is there something on my face or something?”
John never looked back at Brett, and Brett kept his watching to a minimum. The last thing that he would ever want to do is to explain to this man why he kept looking at him, that would freak John out faster than anything else. It would make things awkward, certainly and John, scared, might run from him. It was worth keeping this secret to keep that from happening.
So then, if John never looked back, why was he looking now?
“What?” Brett knew that he sounded like an idiot because John had spoken as clear as day. There was no way that Brett could not have heard, but he had to play stupid. So much was on the line, too much, because their friendship couldn’t survive in the face of how much Brett sometimes longed for John. Did it show in his eyes, the way he ached for John, the way he had spent so many nights awake, just thinking about his infuriating, irresistible best friend who was completely out of his league?
“You keep staring at me, man,” John informed him, and Brett saw the worst thing that he could possibly see reflected in those brilliant, luminescent green eyes. Curiosity. Because if John knew what was going on, that curiosity would turn to disgust, he already knew that. Why put either of them through that?
“Sorry,” Brett murmured, and he glanced down at his hands, which suddenly seemed much safer to look at than John. His hands wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t look back, but when the buzzer which signaled that the first period was over sounded, and Brett, sure that John would have looked away by now, dared to glance up, he saw something frightening.
John was still watching him, and to Brett, he looked oddly thoughtful suddenly. Brett’s throat went dry, his tongue and inner cheeks like a desert, and he swallowed to try to work up some saliva, breathed deeply to try to settle his heart, which was beating so rapid it was more like a pulsing flutter than anything else.
“Hey,” John’s voice was deep and rough, a man’s voice, a voice that Brett had, far too often, imagined gasping out his name as that gorgeous body arched up off of the bed. Even back in high school, John had sounded like a man, and Brett had fantasized.
“Hello,” Brett tried, knowing that he must sound like an idiot. But he narrowed his eyes as he looked at John, and for the first time, he managed to get over his own awkwardness enough to look, to really look, at the expression on John’s face. Not just the lovely contradiction of his physical features, the beautiful and the masculine, but at the look that he actually had stamped onto his face.
Why had John looked back this time? Why, when he was always so utterly enthralled with the game that was on that Brett had always known that it was safe to look, did John raise his gaze away from the television set, and only mere moments before the end of a period in which the score was nearly tied and the tension should have held John more firmly enraptured than ever?
“What’s going on?” Brett shifted around on the couch, folding his legs under him as he perched there, his shoulder to the glowing television, facing John head on. He looked at him now as his friend, and his friend who, quite clearly, had something on his mind. John might be good at hiding things, but not that good. Not from Brett.
“What do you mean?” John was hedging, and Brett just waited. They both knew what was going on. It was very hard for John to reach out for help to anyone, and Brett flattered himself that he was maybe the one person in the world that John would reach out to at all. So he didn’t comment, he just arched his eyebrows and waited.
“Damn it,” John finally grumbled, though there was relief on his face, a slight relaxing of the tension in the corners of his round eyes and in his lips. Brett kept waiting, hands resting lightly in his lap, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “How do you always do that? How do you always just look at me and I want to tell you everything?”
Brett tried not to smile because whatever this was, it was serious, he knew that much. Still, the corners of his lips lifted a little bit. He meant something to this man, and whatever else was not between them, would never be between them, at least he had this friendship.
“What’s going on?” Brett asked again, head tilted to the side as he caught John’s gaze with his own and held it. All of this had been built up over the course of years, from the time that they had been children and John’s mother had walked out on him and his father. That was the first time that John had really talked to Brett, had spilled out all of his fear and his anger and the sense that he must have done something wrong to drive her away.
“It’s my place,” John spoke slowly, his face haunted. “They’re raising the rent again. I can’t afford it.”
“No,” Brett whispered, stunned. “No, you could barely afford to live there as it was.” And it was true. John had not always been able to afford groceries in the eleven months that he had been back. His rent took up most of the small pension that he got, so this was catastrophic.
“Yeah, well.” John gave a wry little shrug, a cocky look on his face that didn’t hide his worry. Not if you knew what to look for, and Brett did. John very much liked to present a stoic face to the world, emotionally speaking. He would prefer it if people didn’t even know that he had emotions.
But Brett knew. Brett had seen too much, and his heart broke for John at that moment, as it had before when his mother had walked out of his life, and then, as soon as John was old enough, his father had been gone, too. They had been so young, John’s parents, too young for the responsibility, but that didn’t mean that Brett would ever forgive them.
“Anyway, I’m gonna have to try to find someplace else,” John spoke as if it would be no big deal, though of course, finding a place that he could afford on his pension would be no simple thing, and he would probably have to move someplace even worse than the broken down, crappy building where he already lived. A place where someone had broken the window and the landlord had done nothing so that John had had to board it up himself. There was no point, Brett knew and the landlord doubtless knew, in fixing the glass, when it would soon be broken again.
“I’m sorry,” Brett told him, and he was sincere, but he knew that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough, but he couldn’t think of anything else. Woefully inadequate, and he knew it.
“I was wondering if you’d help me move,” John asked, and Brett knew how much it cost him to ask that question. John was the sort of man who had always done things on his own, and before he had gotten hurt, Brett knew that he wouldn’t have asked at all. If Brett wanted to help, he would pretty much have to show up and just do it.
It was a sign that John, for all his attempts to control it, was still in a lot of pain, and that his injury may have healed enough that he could walk, which had, at one point, been in doubt, but that he was far from fully okay. Just one more sacrifice that John had made, and he never spoke about it, never said a word.
But then, that was John. He would drink the pain away as best he could, in whatever cheap bar he could find, and he would complain about the headache he got the next day, about the women who came through his bed and sometimes stole what little he had. But he wouldn’t complain about the big things.
“Of course I’ll help you,” Brett told him, but that didn’t answer the question about just where Brett would be helping John to move. Finding a place that John could afford was going to be much harder than the actual move itself would be.
But Brett would help, as much as John let him. Just like he always did. Because, like it or not, Brett loved this man, had loved him since before he had even really known what romantic love was.
He would always help, as much as he possibly could.
Mint Chocolate Mayhem by Jena Wade
Chapter One
Christobel
I shuffled my weight from one foot to the other. I couldn’t believe that I was here, sitting backstage at a bachelor auction. An auction in which I was one of the eligible omega bachelors who would be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
I appreciated the cause and knew that it was worthy. It just felt odd that I had volunteered and actually gone through with the whole thing. This wasn’t your typical stand on stage and parade around while people threw out bids type of auction. Each individual being auctioned off had some sort of cookie plus the date package they had put together. Mine was pretty simple. I had a mint chocolate ganache cookie that was one of my favorites, store bought, not homemade unfortunately, and the date package was on the tamer side. Dinner and a walk on the pier. Done.
My friend Pace had been much more inventive with his package. I couldn’t remember the cookie exactly, but his date was a trip to a children’s museum where I’m sure whoever bid on him would have quite the adventure. The museum would be followed by a stop at the aquarium, then a dinner out, and then an additional outing to the ice cream shop, where more than likely Pace would convince whomever he was with to buy him the largest dessert possible. The boy really was a brat.
“How’s it going, Christobel?” Pace grinned as he said my full name. This time of year, with the holidays on everyone’s minds, my full name came out more and more often, as if it were tied to the season itself.
“Fine,” I said. “You’re awfully calm.” Normally, Pace was an anxious sort. Always bouncing on his toes, looking around the room.
He sighed contently. “I went to the club last night, had a nice little scene with a Daddy there. He mellowed me right out.”
I had a pang of jealousy. I was happy for him. Truly, I was. Both of us were littles, though we had very different needs. Pace had a harder time than I did keeping his little side to himself. Which was why he went to the club more often and was able to be his little self and grab the attention of every Daddy Dom in the place. The Doms there loved him. He was a fantastic sub and a great little. He never had any trouble finding someone to play with.
I knew, like me, he longed for a Daddy Dom to call his own. Maybe even have children together in the future.
That future was not in my cards though. It seemed silly that I would want such a thing. I was perfectly happy being an ER doctor. I didn’t need all that other stuff to get in the way of my career. Being an omega, a little, and a doctor was a lot to juggle, and it was hard to find a Daddy who could deal with all sides of me. At some point I had given up trying. Probably right after my last sort of relationship, when the alpha had gotten pissed that I worked twenty-four hour shifts.
Which is why I remained single and didn’t visit the club on a regular basis. I was perfectly content being little on my own. I could sink into my little space without anyone around. There hadn’t been any mishaps so far.
“I wish you would come with me when I go play,” Pace said.
I wrinkled my nose. “You know I don’t like going to the club that much.”
“Just for a visit,” he said, his voice sliding into a whine. “You don’t have to play with anyone. How are you ever going to meet anyone if you don’t ever go anywhere except work?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? How do you know my Daddy Dom isn’t out there waiting to place his bid?”
Pace’s eyes lit up, and I knew that had been the wrong thing to say. Pace, the optimist and hopeless romantic, had stars in his eyes now.
He bounced on his toes. “Do you really think that could happen?”
“Pace. You know I don’t believe in things like that. I’m sure both of us will find someone sooner or later.” Not me, but he wasn’t ready to hear that. “But the likelihood of it happening here, at a random auction? C’mon.”
Pace frowned. “If you don’t open up your heart to somebody sooner or later you’re going to continue being miserable.”
I scowled. “I’m not miserable.” Was that really how he saw me?
He put a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that to be as harsh as it sounded. You know I just worry about you.”
It was a conversation we’d had a lot. He didn’t think it was healthy for me to spend time as my little self without a Daddy around to care for me. But I could manage. I had been for over a year now. If I didn’t spend at least some time unwinding as little me, then I would have burned out eons ago. Scenes at the club didn’t work for me, and I never found a Daddy that wanted me for a long term commitment.
“I know,” I said and I smiled. I couldn’t stay mad at Pace. He was right after all. My heart was quite closed off. But I only kept it that way to protect myself. I’d worked hard to be where I was. Was it so wrong to want a Daddy that was fine fitting into my life as it was? It wasn’t as if I were some unbendable crazy person.
I’d make compromises. One of those compromises could not be my career, though.
“Come on,” I said. “We’re going to be up soon. We need to pay attention.”
“Thank you for doing this with me,” Pace said.
I grinned. “How could I say no to your face?”
His grin broadened, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. And I saw what it was that made all the other Daddy Doms swoon.
“How much do you think they’ll raise for the new children’s wing at the hospital?” Pace asked, switching the topic to the whole reason we were here.
“Not sure. Last year the community center raised a ton of money, and their Pi day fundraiser did even better. I’m sure we’ll meet the goal.” I hoped we did. I didn’t want to have to participate in another one of these in a few months. The cause was great, but this just wasn’t my favorite way to spend an evening. I worked at the hospital that we were raising funds for, their pediatric ward needed to be brought up to date to meet the needs of the community. The funds tonight would help that.
I just needed to remind myself of that each time random alphas ogled me. One of them would be my date, I had to come to accept that.
A Christmas Break by Annabelle Jacobs
Chapter One
November
Finn
“Christ. I don’t know why I let you drag me out.” The place was busy, too busy for my liking anyway, and I grimaced as someone splashed beer over my shoe.
Christian rolled his eyes. “Because you’re twenty-six, not ninety, and going out is what young people do.” He elbowed his way to the bar and I dutifully followed in his wake, grudgingly conceding that he had a point.
I’d never been one for going out and getting pissed every weekend––as my ex, Evan, had pointed out on many occasions—but even I had to admit I’d got worse lately.
Wallowing in self-pity could only last for so long. Christian’s words, not mine. I’d be happy to wallow for a good while yet if left to my own devices.
Yet here we were.
Saturday night in town, in a bar that wasn’t so much a gay bar as it was an “anything goes” bar. I’d spied a few same-sex couples getting with each other as we’d walked in, and the dance floor was a mass of bodies doing god knew what. If I was going to go out, this would be my kind of place for sure, but tonight I felt stiff, unable to relax for whatever reason.
Christian got served pretty quick, unsurprising when I spotted his cousin tending bar. He turned back to me with a grin, holding shots in one hand and a couple of bottles of Beck’s in the other. “These’ll loosen you up and wipe that frown off your face.”
Why the hell not? I needed something.
The shot burned as it hit my throat, and I rolled my shoulders, welcoming it. The ice-cold beer went down a treat afterward, and before I knew it I’d polished off the whole bottle.
“Well, okay then.” Christian’s raised an eyebrow, but followed suit and downed his drink. “Another round? Then dance for a bit?”
The alcohol had served its purpose in taking the edge off, and finally after what seemed like weeks of being strung tighter than a bow, I felt myself relax a little. My smile came easier than it had in a while. “Yeah, I’ll get these.”
Christian pointed over to a free table near the back wall. “I’ll go snag that.” I watched in amusement as he marched over with purpose, deftly sliding onto one of the stools just as a group of girls had their eye on it. With a shrug and that charming smile of his, he had them chatting and laughing in no time.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the bar, ready to battle, but the queue had inexplicably disappeared for the time being. Only a few people stood waiting to be served, and one of them caught my eye, which was more than anyone had done in months. He leant on the bar, arse jutting out in a pair of black skinny jeans that left little to the imagination. The dark purple T-shirt he wore clung to broad shoulders, and I licked my lips, following the line of his back down to his arse again.
Alec, Christian’s cousin, slid a couple of drinks over to him, laughing at whatever had been said. The curl of jealousy was unexpected, but damn it, I was suddenly itching to be part of that conversation, to be included in whatever the joke was.
My feet were moving before I realised, and I found myself at the bar next to him.
“All right, Finn.” Alec shot me a warm smile. “Same again?”
“Yeah, please.” I glanced sideways to find blue eyes and a smirk staring back at me. Black hair, a little wild-looking, framed his face, his hot as fuck but vaguely familiar face. Faint stubble covered his jaw, and my gaze caught on the sharp lines of it as I struggled to remember why I recognised him. “Do I know you?” It sounded like a cheesy come on, and I winced.
The guy laughed, eyes dancing with mirth as he gave me a slow once-over that made my belly tighten. “It’s been a while Finn, but not that long. I’m wounded you don’t remember me.” He put a hand over his heart and gave me a pouty look that made me want to pull him into a kiss.
I licked my lips, gaze still caught on his mouth. “Erm . . . I . . .” Alec interrupted my floundering, setting drinks on the bar. He shot a quick glance between me and whoever this guy was and winked.
“Good to see you back out with the living.”
“Oh fuck off, you’re as bad as Christian.” He laughed as he took my money, then turned to serve someone else, leaving me with my handsome stranger. Who apparently wasn’t a stranger at all.
One-night stands weren’t my thing, so I was pretty sure we’d never fucked. I could count those I’d slept with on one hand. So where did I know––
“What the fuck are you doing here? You never go out.” An arm slung over my shoulder and my brother’s wide smile caught me like a deer in the headlights. I looked from him to . . . to . . . ahh fuck. “Jasper.”
Jasper laughed around the neck of his beer bottle. “At last!” His eyes were still full of mirth, but it faded as my dawning horror obviously became apparent. Fuck, that was my little brother’s best mate I’d almost hit on.
“You here with Christian?” my brother asked, looking around for him.
“Yeah, he’s over there.” I waved a hand in Christian’s general direction and reached for our drinks, desperate to get away.
Jasper spoke before I made my escape, and I froze in my tracks.
“Hey, Cole, Finn didn’t recognise me until you appeared.”
I waited to see if he’d add, “And he was eyeing me up like a filet mignon,” but thank fuck, he left it there.
“I’m not bloody surprised, with that tan and all this hair.” Cole ruffled Jasper’s hair then pulled him into a sideways hug.
That and the extra bloody stone in muscle. The last time I remembered seeing Jasper, he’d been skinny, pale, and with a haircut worthy of the military. He’d also been at school.
“Are you even old enough to drink?” I blurted out.
Jasper sent me a withering stare that I fully deserved. “Yes. I’m the same bloody age as Cole. But thanks for telling the whole bar you think I’m underage, you wanker.”
I noticed a few guys looking over and realised I might’ve been overly loud. But fuck that, they were way too old for either my brother or Jasper, so I wasn’t all that bothered.
“I’m going to take these over to Christian before he dies of thirst.” I nodded at the drinks I was carrying. “You boys have a good night.”
But not too good I wanted to add but managed to hold my tongue. They were both twenty, they weren’t about to listen to anything I had to say.
Oblivious to my furtive looks at Jasper, that I couldn’t quite seem to stop, Cole shot me a smile and leant in close to whisper in my ear. “It’s good to see you out, Finn. I’ve been worried. You need to forget about that arsehole and start enjoying yourself again.”
I might’ve got prickly at anyone else saying that to me, but Cole was one of the nicest people I knew. Snapping at him would be like kicking a puppy. I gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll see you at Mum’s for lunch tomorrow. Try not to be too hungover. I doubt she’ll appreciate you decorating her border plants again.”
Cole pulled a face and looked at the bottle in his hand. “Yeah, good point. I’ll only have a few tonight.”
I snorted at that and patted him on the shoulder as I left them to it. Cole was as lovely as they came, but he was still twenty and prone to making bad decisions when alcohol was involved.
When I set the drinks down on the table in front of Christian, he had a knowing look.
“Don’t say a word,” I muttered, but of course it fell on deaf ears.
“I see you ran into your brother.”
“Yep.”
“And Jasper.”
“Him too.”
Christian laughed and reached for his shot. “Cheers.”
I barely managed to choke it down when he added. “He’s hot as fuck now, right? I mean they both are, but—”
“Oh my god, stop. That’s my baby brother you’re talking about.”
“He’s twenty, so’s Jasper. Hardly babies anymore, Finn.” True, but still. I eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t get any ideas about Cole.”
“Pfft. He’s like a brother to me, and you know it. But I have eyes.” He took a sip of his beer, then pointed the neck at where my brother and Jasper still propped up the bar. “I was talking about Jasper, anyway. Travelling has brought out the best in him.”
Ahh, that’s why I hadn’t seen him in ages. I vaguely remembered Cole going on about Jasper saving to go travelling round Asia or something like that. Looked like he managed it. That would explain the tan and the messy hair. “He looks older than twenty,” I mumbled, more to myself than Christian, but he picked up on it, eyes narrowing as he looked at me.
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
“Liar.” He waved a finger at me. “You thought he was hot, and don’t deny it. I saw you eye-fucking him all the way from over here.”
“Was not.”
Christian laughed. “You’re just pissed because now you think he’s too young.”
“He is too young.” Way, way too young.
“He must be almost twenty-one, which is old enough for whatever you had in mind.”
I tried hard not to remember the filthy thoughts I’d had at that bar. Before I knew who he was. “He’s Cole’s best mate.”
Christian considered this for a moment, taking another pull from his beer. “He is.” He shot me a sly grin. “That probably makes you even hotter in Jasper’s eyes. Nothing better than fucking your best mate’s older brother.”
I didn’t bother with a reply, but his words burrowed deep inside me and didn’t want to let go, and my gaze drifted over to the bar again. Did he think I was hot?
Christian’s laughter snapped me back to our conversation, and I scowled. “I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”
“Nothing’s going to happen and you know it.”
“Yeah, mate.” He shot a pointed look in Jasper’s direction, where he was now leaning on the bar looking straight at us. Even under the dim lighting, I felt the weight of his stare. “You keep telling yourself that.”
I did.
I kept telling myself that for the rest of the night and all the next morning.
Happy that I’d got Jasper well out of my system, I pulled up onto my mum’s drive that afternoon, only to find him stood smoking a cigarette outside on the front lawn. Sporting blue skinny jeans this time, boots, and a coat that made him look both warm and cosy, yet sexy as fuck.
Fuck my life.
Seriously.
Fuck it.
With a resigned sigh, I got out of the car and walked over to him. “I’m surprised my mum hasn’t had a word with you about that.” I gestured to the smoke curling up into the cold air.
Jasper chuckled. “She did. She gave me a hug, told me she’d missed me, then only let me out here after I promised to cut down, with a view to quitting in the new year.”
I grinned, imagining her giving him a stern talking to. Cole got his sunny personality from my mum, but she was fierce when it came to people she cared about. And Cole’s best mate fell into that category.
He took a drag of his cigarette, lips tight around the filter, and I was transfixed. I’d never found smoking a turn on before, but the way he closed his eyes and drew it into his lungs was captivating. He blew it out, gaze snapping to mine, and I quickly looked away, thankful that the cold would hide it if I did something stupid like blushed.
“I’ll see you inside,” I said, escaping before things could get any more awkward between us. The last thing I needed was for him to bring up last night and call me out on my obvious attraction.
Attraction that was no more.
Nope.
Totally gone.
I opened the door and walked inside.
It took me all of two seconds to realise that something was up. The three people sitting in my mum’s living room looked far too suspicious for this to be an ordinary Sunday afternoon. Stopping in the doorway, I narrowed my eyes. “What’s going on?”
Getting up quickly, my mum came over to wrap me up in a hug. I bent a little to return it. “Nothing’s going on. Cole was just telling us he saw you and Christian out last night.”
I glared at Cole over her shoulder but his mouthed “she was worried” had me instantly guilty. I hugged her tighter.
When she stepped back, I ran a hand through my hair and tried to ease everyone’s worries. “Evan collected the last of his stuff yesterday and dropped off his key.”
“About bloody time,” my dad grumbled.
“Arthur,” my mum admonished, but her tone told me she agreed whole-heartedly.
I held up a hand. “I know, I know.” He’d been messing me around for the last few months since he’d moved out, and my family hadn’t been subtle about their displeasure. Whatever goodwill they’d felt for Evan when we were together had long since vanished.
“Anyway, Christian dragged me out to celebrate.”
“Good for him.” My mum beamed. Christian she adored.
With that out of the way, I took my place on the sofa next to Cole. “All right?” He looked like he’d just got out of bed, judging by the pillow creases and hair all over the place, but otherwise none the worse for his night out.
“Knackered.” He yawned to prove his point, making me yawn in turn. “But I’ve not thrown up in Mum’s flowers if that’s what you mean.”
“For which we’re all grateful, dear.” My mum patted him on the shoulder as she left for the kitchen.
Cole rested his head on the back of the sofa and turned to face me. “You and Christian must’ve left pretty early. I didn’t see you much.”
“Yeah, we left to get food.” I’d virtually dragged him out of there after we’d finished our drinks, much to his amusement.
Jasper chose that moment to come back inside, the faint trace of cigarette smoke clinging to him. He smiled as my dad patted the seat next to him.
“Jasper,” my dad said. “Come tell me more about those elephants in Thailand.” I watched as Jasper got his phone out and sat chatting with my dad, showing him photos of where he’d been and what he’d done.
It was far more interesting than I’d been expecting, and it took Cole nudging me with his knee to realise I’d been staring at them. “He had an amazing time by the sounds of it.” He nodded over at Jasper, voice more than a little wistful.
“You could’ve gone with him.” I remembered having this conversation with Cole over a year ago. “Do you regret it?”
Cole sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “No. not really. I mean yeah, I’d love to see all the things he’s seen, but I couldn’t be away from home for that long. I’d miss it too much.”
Yeah, that was what he’d said back then. And to be honest, I couldn’t see him doing it either. Cole was all about family. I glanced at Jasper again, still engrossed with my dad. “Did Jasper not get homesick at all?”
Cole snorted. “Nope.”
Before I could get him to elaborate, Mum shouted that dinner was ready and we all headed into the kitchen to eat.
Lunch was as lively and delicious as usual.
Conversation ranged from everyone’s week at work, to gardening, to more about Jasper’s travels, next door’s dog, and finally, like I knew it would, my housing arrangements.
“So . . .” My dad set his knife and fork down and sat back in his chair. “Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do with the house?” He kept his voice neutral, letting me know whatever I chose to do they’d support, which I appreciated.
I’d been looking to buy when I’d started dating Evan. More of an investment than anything else. My great aunt Meg had left me and Cole half her bungalow between us, so I had a sizeable chunk of money to put down. When our relationship turned serious, I’d debated buying a house jointly, but my dad advised against it. He’d said there’d be plenty of time for that later. Thank fuck I’d listened to him and bought it on my own.
But I had got used to someone going halves on the bills, and paying for everything on my own was a bit of a struggle.
Taking a drink of water, I studied the glass for a moment before answering him. Despite the last few months being shit, I loved that house. I’d put a lot of work into it, and the thought of selling was just . . . I couldn’t do it. “I’m going to advertise for a lodger, I think.”
It was what I’d originally planned on doing before Evan, but after he left, I’d shied away from having anyone else in the house. I was fed up of never having any money though.
“Got anyone in mind?” my mum asked as she stood to start clearing the table.
I got up to help her. “No, I guess I’ll advertise, or whatever you do these days.”
“Well, just be careful, there are some strange people about.”
Talking of strange, as I reached for Cole’s plate, he leant in and whispered something to Jasper, too quiet for me to hear, but whatever it was, Jasper shook his head sharply and kicked Cole under the table if his wince was anything to go by. God knew what those pair were arguing about. Nothing I was interested in I was sure.
Jasper left soon after, with more furious whispering as Cole saw him to the door.
“What’s up with you two?” I eyed him curiously as he sat back down on the sofa. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”
Cole shot me a look I couldn’t decipher, then shook his head. “Nothing important.”
I didn’t entirely believe him, but it obviously wasn’t my business, so I didn’t press the matter.
My dad came in with coffees, followed by my mum and a very large and very unfamiliar black-and-white cat. He had a bit missing from one ear and prowled in like a lion.
“Um . . . when did you get a new cat?” My mum was a huge animal lover, cats especially, but she already had two and they were the most antisocial pair ever when it came to other animals. But come to think of it, I hadn’t seen them at all since I’d been here. Which was odd, to say the least. “And where are Lucifer and Satan.”
She laughed. “Don’t call them that.”
Half-Bengal, half-Siamese brothers, they jumped on your shoulders and attacked you from around corners. Which was highly entertaining when it wasn’t you they were attacking.
“They’re upstairs sulking.” My mum sighed, a smile playing about her lips as the new addition sauntered over to me and promptly jumped up onto my lap.
He weighed a ton.
Not overweight, just solid, with massive paws.
He purred loudly as he circled around before settling down. Guess I wasn’t moving anytime soon.
“Where did this one come from?” I stroked under his chin, smiling when he closed his eyes and purred louder. I might be a bit of a cat lover myself.
I’d thought about getting one of my own before, but Evan hated them. In hindsight, that should’ve told me all I needed to know about him.
“He followed Mary home from bingo the other night and wouldn’t leave.” Mary was her best friend of over thirty years. “He was still there in the morning, looking a bit ragged, so she let him in for a bite to eat, but he wasn’t keen on her dog.”
“Okay?”
“Well, he kept appearing in her garden, so we asked around, but no one claimed him, and he isn’t chipped. The vet said he was full of fleas so probably hadn’t been looked after properly for a while.”
I immediately stopped stroking him and grimaced.
“We got rid of all the fleas, Finn. Stop looking so horrified.”
Still, I felt phantom itching all over my hands and arms. But a quick check of his fur revealed no intruders.
“Anyway, she couldn’t keep him, and I didn’t want to give him to a shelter. You know the older ones take ages to be rehomed. So here he is.”
“And your other two aren’t impressed?”
My dad laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
I could imagine the posh devil cats not taking kindly to a run of the mill moggy in their home. “What are you going to do with him?”
She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the cat in question on my knee. “Well . . .”
“Nope.” I could see where this was going, and there was absolutely no way I was getting lumbered. “I can’t take him.”
“Why not?” She raised an eyebrow. “You love cats. You’d have had one already if it wasn’t for him.”
She had a point. But I’d always pictured getting a kitten, maybe two, and having them play around the house. Not . . . I looked down at the cat curled up fast asleep and purring loudly. As if knowing his fate was being decided, he stretched out his huge front paws, scrunched his face up, and gave an adorable little meow before settling back to sleep.
Well, fuck.
“How old is he anyway?” I sounded resigned to my own ears, and sensing victory, my mum beamed and launched into a very obviously prepared speech.
“Well, the vet thinks he’s about eight years old. He’s been neutered and doesn’t spray anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Thank god, because it hadn’t even entered my head. “He isn’t a fussy eater, and . . . I really don’t want to have to take him to the RSPCA, Finn.”
Yeah, me neither.
“Fine. Looks like I’m getting a cat.”
“Yes!” Cole yelled, holding up his phone and startling both me and the cat. “I win. Pay up.”
I looked from him to my parents and back again. “Win what? Please don’t tell me you had a bet on this?” I couldn’t believe them. “Which of you thought I’d let this guy go into a shelter?” Because, come on, even I knew I was sold the minute my mum said he needed a home.
Cole laughed. “That wasn’t the bet. You’re far too much of a soft touch for that to happen. We bet on how long it’d take you to admit that you’d keep him.”
“Wonderful,” I grumbled, shaking my head. I looked down at the sleeping cat and sighed. “My family are terrible people.”
My mum smiled shamelessly. “What are you going to call him?”
“Um . . .” I had no idea. Cats this old usually came with a name, didn’t they? I glanced down at him again, trying to see if any names jumped out at me. He reminded me a bit of an alley cat, maybe one who’d retired for an easier life. Tom seemed a bit obvious, but maybe something old . . . but different. “I’m going to call him Angus.”
“Really?” Cole looked from me to the cat, a slight frown in place. “Hmm . . . I guess it kind of suits him.”
“I think it’s perfect.” Mum stood and smoothed out her trousers. “I’ve got a few bits for him already, and you can borrow one of my cat carriers to take him home.”
“Oh . . . okay.” I hadn’t quite realised I’d be taking him right now.
“I know I’m rushing you with this, but the boys really aren’t very happy.” She smiled down at Angus. “And he’ll be so much happier over at your house without those two to bother him.” She left the room to go collect his things and I sat there a little stunned at how quickly I’d acquired a new housemate. If only finding a lodger was this easy.
My dad left to go help her, and as soon as he was out the door, Cole cleared his throat and shifted position so he was fully facing me. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, a very uncharacteristic show of nerves.
“Out with it,” I prompted, more than a little curious about what was obviously bothering him.
He reached out to stroke down Angus’s back. “You know how you’ve taken in one stray already . . .”
I frowned, not quite understanding, until I remembered his whispered conversation with Jasper in the kitchen, and oh my god, no way was that happening. “Jasper isn’t a stray. He has two homes to choose from.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “How did you know what I was going to say?”
“Oh please, you weren’t exactly subtle at the table.” I thought about Jasper’s furious headshake. “And from the looks of it, Jasper wasn’t keen on the idea either.”
“That was because he thought you’d say no.”
“I am saying no.” He went to protest further so I held up my hand to stop him. “His mum and dad both have perfectly nice houses. Why doesn’t he move in with either one of them? In fact, where is he living at the moment?” I knew for a fact my mum wouldn’t let him stay anywhere that wasn’t safe, so he must be living somewhere.
“At his mum’s,” Cole mumbled.
“Well, there you go. He doesn’t need to come live with me.” The mere idea of having him under my roof sent a thrill down my spine that was wholly unwelcome. “What would I do with a twenty-year-old anyway?”
“He’s twenty-one.”
“What?”
“He’s four months older than me, turned twenty-one a few weeks ago.”
I shrugged. “Still five years younger than me. I don’t want someone in my house who’s going to be out partying all the time and coming home drunk at all hours.”
Cole stared at me. “Oh god, Finn, you’re such an old man. No one would ever guess you’re only twenty-six.” I knew he was just teasing, but the words still stung. Evan used to bang on about how boring I was, and it’d left me paranoid that he was right. “I didn’t mean it like that. That arsehole was wrong about you. You’re not boring, Finn, you’re one of the most interesting people I know.”
I snorted, couldn’t help it. “I don’t know about that.” I thought about Jasper and all his stories. He’d accomplished so much more than me in his life and he was only twenty. Sorry, twenty-one.
“You are. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. I know Evan knocked your confidence, but you need to forget about him and start living your life again.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I don’t mean going out to clubs every weekend, I know that’s not your style, and it’s not Jasper’s either, just so you know. But you do need to start leaving your house a bit more, reconnect with your friends. I know Christian’s been worried about you.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at him. Had everybody been talking about me behind my back?
As if reading my mind, he gave my shoulder a squeeze. “We were all worried, that’s all.”
A comfortable silence settled between us, and I gave his words some serious thought. Had I neglected my friends recently? Breaking up with Evan had been long and unpleasant, and yeah, maybe I had retreated to lick my wounds. But he’d hurt me. I’d needed time to get through that. Had I had long enough?
Maybe.
But that still didn’t mean I wanted to have Jasper as my lodger. I thought back to last night, the way he’d looked leaning against the bar, all long and lean, and . . . I shook my head, ignoring the curl of desire the image provoked.
So not going there.
Having him in my house was just asking for trouble.
“Maybe you’re right. About me needing to get out a bit more.” I added quickly, “Not about Jasper moving in.”
“Just think about it. Please? You need someone to help pay the mortgage, why not him?”
“Does he even have a job?” He’d only just come back from travelling, could he even afford to live with me?
“Yeah, he’s working at the Amazon warehouse.” His smile was wry. “Hates it, mind, but the money’s all right.”
“Seriously though, Cole. I was hoping to find someone more my age and who isn’t too high maintenance.”
“Jasper’s not high maintenance, and wouldn’t you rather have someone you know than a complete stranger in your house?”
He had me there, but I still didn’t understand why he was pushing this so much. Usually he’d accept my first answer and let it go.
“And if Jasper lives there, you’ll have me round all the time.”
I laughed. “That’s not the incentive you think it is.”
“Piss off.” He elbowed me in the ribs. “You love me.”
“I do. And you’re welcome any time. You don’t need Jasper to be there.” I met his gaze and held it. “Why are you so insistent that he move in with me?” There had to be more to it. Unease prickled my insides as his face fell.
“He doesn’t want to stay at his mum’s. She’s got a new boyfriend.”
Oh. My eyebrows scrunched together and he quickly shook his head.
“No. nothing like that. Jasper says he’s nice and all that, but their personalities clash a bit and he just doesn’t feel comfortable there. Their relationship is new and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. He says it’s been ages since he’s seen her that happy, and he can tell they’re holding back when he’s there.” He sighed. “He doesn’t want to get in the way and ruin it for her.”
“I’m sure his mum would rather her son felt comfortable in his home than her new boyfriend.”
“Exactly. She’d always put Jasper first, but he doesn’t want to put her in that position.”
I felt my resolve crumbling but struggled to hold on. “What about his dad?”
“Yeah, no. Not happening any time soon. They aren’t even speaking at the minute.” He crossed his arms, expression grim, so I left it alone. “If he told his mum he was moving in with someone she knows and trusts, then she wouldn’t worry about him.”
She would if she knew I’d thought about getting him naked less than twenty-four hours ago.
“But he’s so much younger than me, we have nothing in common.” The protest sounded weak and Cole knew it.
His smile grew as he spoke. “It’s five years, Finn. And Jasper’s pretty chill, even more so after his year away. He’s more like you than you realise.”
I doubt that.
“Look. Why don’t you have a trial run, like maybe a week or something and see how you get on. Or at least talk to him about it?”
I looked down at the cat in my lap; I’d almost forgotten he was there. Was I really going to do this?
“Fine,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t live to regret it. “I’ll talk to him.”
Cole launched himself at me, narrowly avoiding the cat. “Thank you.”
I’d only come for Sunday lunch, and I was going home with one, possibly two new additions to my house.
How had that happened?
Santa's Baby by Lorelei M. Hart
Chapter One
Noel
“This, my dear friend, is what success looks like.” I leaned back in my chair, snuggling Cookies, my cat, and staring at the very full spreadsheet on the computer.
When I had put out the feelers for mini sessions for the holidays, I was hoping to get my studio in the black for the year. Figuring if I filled a quarter of the spots I’d be happy, I clearly underestimated the desire of parents to have professional photography of their children in time for the holidays. I even had to add on a day and still had a wait list.
“This is the year.” Cookies’ purring vibrated against me. He loved when I worked from my home office, which was an entire flight up from my studio office. He might be a little spoiled, and I was A-okay with that.
I set him on the floor and shut off my computer. A lot of things needed to be done before the weekend, but tonight I was going to take a long hot bath, order Chinese takeout, and just relax.
Or so I thought.
The bath was almost filled with steaming water, and I’d stripped down to my boxer briefs when the phone rang. At first I ignored the call, but then something in my gut told me it wasn’t someone telling me I won a free vacation or letting me know that I, too, could get a new roof for zero down. Something in my gut told me it was bad.
I turned off the faucets and ran back into the bedroom where my phone sat on the bed. “Hello.” I answered, one wet arm from testing the water.
“Noel, this is Kyle from the farm.” Dread filled me. My big hook was the reindeer I rented for the photos. I’d like to think that it was my amazing eye or word of mouth, but it was after I added the live animals that I filled up.
“Hello, Kyle. How are things?” I tried to sound upbeat, but everything in me said there was something wrong, and I stank at hiding raw emotions. My dad said it was because I was a Christmas baby, and somehow that made me more. Not more what. Just more.
“I hate to do this to you, but I just don’t feel comfortable letting my babies be a part of your shoot.”
Nooooo!
“We have a contract,” I squeaked. Contracts have to mean something, right?
“And as we discussed from the beginning, if I ever felt my babies were in danger, the contract would be null and void.”
We had had that discussion, but I assumed it was a just in case. Like if he showed up and hunters were standing there or something equally messed up. I didn’t think it was just an escape clause.
“I am aware. I just didn’t think that…that… Why do you feel they would be unsafe?” Surely he didn’t think I was a danger. “You would be there and in control of any contact with them.”
“I know you had nothing to do with the fire, but still… I just don’t feel comfortable, and I’m sorry about that. I need to go.” He hung up, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Fire?
I opened up Google and searched for fires on the local news.
Local Treasure Destroyed in Gas Explosion.
The local treasure was the rental barn I had lined up for the photo shoot. It had been converted into a wedding venue and hosted many amazing events over the years. It was perfect…or had been. Now it was a pile of rubble. At least no one was hurt.
“Oh, Cookies.” I reached down and picked up the cat circling my feet. “We are good and truly fucked.” We’d lost our main attraction and our location.
“I’m going to need to pivot. Let’s go drain the tub and get to work.” There were other locations, and maybe we’d need to be outside all day and without a hot cocoa bar or fancy backdrops— Shit. I had already dropped half the decor off.
The tub drained, my clothes back on, I booted up the computer to search out a new location and see if anyone anywhere close to local had reindeer for rent.
An hour later, I had three possible locations to call in the morning and zero hits on the reindeer. It was better than nothing.
At least I had the best Santa in town. He was the man kids saw on the street and gave their Christmas wish list to randomly all year long. He was exactly what Santa looked like to a child—heck, to me. How I managed to score him was a miracle. He historically always declined the offers, saying the “new” Santa should do it.
Fine. He might be a bit unhinged, but he was great with kids, passed a background test, and all the kids were there with parents so really…being a bit off just added to the whimsy and not anything off-putting.
My email notifications binged, and I clicked over.
It was Santa.
Noel,
I hate to do this to you, but I’m going to Hawaii for the month. Maybe you can get the new Santa to do it. He’s a pretty swell guy and great with kids. Hope all goes well.
Ho ho ho,
Old Santa
It was fair to say I was good and done for. Refunding all of their deposits was going to wipe me clean and, if I hadn’t spent a bunch of money on props, a new lens, deposits on the location, the reindeer, and Santa, I’d at least have broken even. Reality was I did spend that money, so instead of this week bringing my studio into the black, it was getting redder and redder.
I probably would get my deposits back, but when? That was a different matter altogether.
I hit reply.
Please reconsider. I can double your pay.
At least then I’d break even—probably—if everyone didn’t cancel on me after losing both the ideal location and the magical reindeer.
An email returned instantly.
An away message.
I was done for.
C.S. Poe is a Lambda Literary and EPIC award finalist author of gay mystery, romance, and paranormal books.
She is a reluctant mover and has called many places home in her lifetime. C.S. has lived in New York City, Key West, and Ibaraki, Japan, to name a few. She misses the cleanliness, convenience, and limited-edition gachapon of Japan, but she was never very good at riding bikes to get around.
She has an affinity for all things cute and colorful and a major weakness for toys. C.S. is an avid fan of coffee, reading, and cats. She’s rescued two cats—Milo and Kasper do their best on a daily basis to sidetrack her from work.
C.S. is a member of the International Thriller Writers organization.
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.
Jena began writing in January of 2013 as a New Year's Resolution--and so far she has stuck to it!
She lives in Michigan. By day she works as a web developer, and at night she writes. Born and raised on a farm, she spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden, or riding her horses. She also helps run the family dairy farm.
She lives in Michigan. By day she works as a web developer, and at night she writes. Born and raised on a farm, she spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden, or riding her horses. She also helps run the family dairy farm.
Annabelle Jacobs lives in the South West of England with three rowdy children, and two cats. An avid reader of fantasy herself for many years, Annabelle now spends her days writing her own stories. They're usually either fantasy or paranormal fiction, because she loves building worlds filled with magical creatures, and creating stories full of action and adventure. Her characters may have a tough time of it—fighting enemies and adversity—but they always find love in the end.
Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
Derrick McClain(Narrator)
Riley Knight
Jena Wade
Annabelle Jacobs
EMAIL: ajacobsfiction@gmail.com
The Mystery of Nevermore by CS Poe
KOBO / iTUNES / GOODREADS TBR
Christmas Miracle by Riley Knight
Mint Chocolate Mayhem by Jena Wade
A Christmas Break by Annabelle Jacobs
Santa's Baby by Lorelei M. Hart
