Summary:
Garnet Run #3
Can one man’s crowded, messy life fill another man’s empty heart?
Raising a family was always Adam Mills’ dream, although solo parenting and moving back to tiny Garnet Run certainly were not. After a messy breakup, Adam is doing his best to give his young daughter the life she deserves—including accepting help from their new, reclusive neighbor to fulfill her Christmas wish.
Though the little house may not have “the most lights ever,” the Mills home begins to brighten as handsome Wes Mobray spends more time there and slowly sheds his protective layers. But when the eye-catching house ends up in the news, Wes has to make a choice: hide from the darkness of his unusual past or embrace the light of a future—and a family—with Adam.
From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.
Summary:
Curl Up and Dye Mysteries #5
It’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of year for Gabe and Josh Roman-Wyatt as they celebrate their first holidays as fathers, but someone’s war on St. Nick threatens to ruin their holly jolly Christmas.
The Norman Rockwell holiday they had envisioned implodes and shenanigans ensue in true Josh and Gabe style, but that only makes the couple more determined to rejoice in the love and joy they have found in one another. A Black Friday showdown, two foul-mouthed birds, one lumbersexual, ugly Christmas sweaters aplenty, four invading grandparents, and a sexy twist on an advent calendar lead up to oh, holy nights. Catch up with your favorite characters and meet some new faces in a tale that is sure to make you feel as warm as Josh’s creamy, hot-buttered rum concoction.
A Dye Hard Holiday is a funny story about two fathers trying to hold it all together as they juggle busy careers and family life while planning the perfect holiday season. Will they be rocking around the Christmas tree or will it be a blue Christmas? The book is approximately 50,000 words long and is not intended as a standalone book. This supplements the Curl Up and Dye Mysteries series, which should be read in order. This book contains sexually explicit material and is intended for adults 18 and over.
The Norman Rockwell holiday they had envisioned implodes and shenanigans ensue in true Josh and Gabe style, but that only makes the couple more determined to rejoice in the love and joy they have found in one another. A Black Friday showdown, two foul-mouthed birds, one lumbersexual, ugly Christmas sweaters aplenty, four invading grandparents, and a sexy twist on an advent calendar lead up to oh, holy nights. Catch up with your favorite characters and meet some new faces in a tale that is sure to make you feel as warm as Josh’s creamy, hot-buttered rum concoction.
A Dye Hard Holiday is a funny story about two fathers trying to hold it all together as they juggle busy careers and family life while planning the perfect holiday season. Will they be rocking around the Christmas tree or will it be a blue Christmas? The book is approximately 50,000 words long and is not intended as a standalone book. This supplements the Curl Up and Dye Mysteries series, which should be read in order. This book contains sexually explicit material and is intended for adults 18 and over.
Summary:
Can a Bad Boy be a Good Boy’s Perfect Christmas Gift?
Days before Christmas, and another bad choice forces Felix Hennessy to flee his hedonistic London life. When his plans to lay low at a luxury hotel are thwarted by a snowstorm, he’s forced to seek shelter in a tiny village pub. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere isn’t meant to be part of the picture but if he has to rough it for a few days, the cute young barman will help smooth things over. Then he can return to his real life in the city.
For Gabriel York, home is where the heart is. He’s determined to stay in the tight-knit village nestled deep in a rural valley — but it would be so much better with the right man by his side. Someone steadfast, someone to share his love of family and community. Someone to build a future with. Felix intrigues him like no other, but he’s a city boy through and through. When the snow melts, Felix will be gone — and he might just take Gabriel’s heart with him.
A sweet, low angst MM romance, overflowing with all the festive feels and flavours. A celebration of family, community, and two men finding in the other His Perfect Christmas Gift.
Summary:
Pride of the Caribbean #1
The Pride of the Caribbean is a cruise ship unlike any other. Paranormals working on board the enchanted ship hide in plain sight, under the benevolent protection of a demigod captain and his fairy husband.
And this is a shipboard romance unlike any other.
Josh Gilbert’s well-meaning family booked a gay-friendly cruise for Christmas in order to find Josh a boyfriend. Hoping to escape the constant parade of bachelors—and the collapsible fishing rod dangling mistletoe his mom keeps in her purse—Josh takes solace in a growing friendship with the ship’s photographer, Nathan. Though Josh is falling for Nathan, he worries it will never be more than a shipboard fling.
Nathan recently became aware of his incubus heritage and has finally learned how to control his demon side. But Josh has awakened more than just the demon’s need for orgasms—Josh has awakened Nathan’s heart. What’s developing between them is the real thing, but can Josh ever accept Nathan’s promiscuous past… and love a sex demon?
Amid lush tropical settings, family hilarity, holiday costume parties, sexy snorkeling adventures, gingerbread martinis, and mythical creatures, will Josh get his Christmas wish and finally find the true love he’s wanted for so long?
Summary:
One grumpy patient. One unconventional nurse. Twenty-two reindeer later.
Things aren’t great for Xander Cole. It’s Christmas, he’s fractured his pelvis on a skiing trip he never wanted to go on, and his on/off boyfriend is most definitely off. No wonder he’s not exactly full of festive cheer.
Ferris Night isn’t having much luck either. His plan to take a break from work before starting a new job has been wrecked by a flooded flat. With nowhere to stay, he grabs the opportunity for a job as a live-in nurse with both hands. After all, how hard can it be?
Xander doesn’t need a nurse. Especially one who’s far too flirty, far too attractive, far too into Christmas, and far too good at getting his own way. But Ferris has never faced a challenge that couldn’t be overcome with a bit of charm and perseverance. It doesn’t matter how attractive Xander might be. He’s immune. Maybe.
As banter and sparring between the two men turn into more, a nurse might not be needed, but both men could be in for a fresh start to the new year.
A low angst 63k romantic comedy, which features snarky banter, a slow burn relationship, two men who can give as good as they get, an annoying ex, and a Star Wars nativity scene.
*Please note that this story was originally released as a single POV short story as part of the Winter Wonderland Prolific Works giveaway. The story has been revised and is now dual POV with over 40k of added content*
The Lights on Knockbridge Lane by Roan Parrish
Adam followed his daughter to Wes’ front door. It opened faster this time, and Wes looked less confused to find them there.
“Hi,” he said, his frown only at twenty-five percent this time.
“We’re hanging Christmas lights,” Gus announced. “Wanna help?”
“Oh, honey, that’s not— We don’t— I thought— Um, we were wondering if you had a ladder we could borrow. You don’t have to— That is, you can if you want, but—”
Adam physically forced his lips together to prevent more gibberish from leaking out. Wes was looking at him intently. Then he glanced at Gus. She was vibrating in place like a whippet in a snowstorm, eyes huge and hopeful.
“Um. Okay,” Wes said.
Adam gaped.
“Yay! Yes! Yay!” Gus cried, and darted inside.
Wes smiled for the first time and it was like nothing Adam had ever seen.
His face lit with tender humor, eyes crinkling at the corners and full lips parting to reveal charmingly crooked teeth. Damn, he was beautiful.
Adam sank down to sit at the top step and wait. The sun was setting, and it painted the expanse of Knockbridge Lane in muted pinks and purples. The mountains rose to the west, and to the north and east were trees. A Cooper’s hawk glided in a wide arc high above the tallest branches.
Wes came out carrying a ladder, a hammer, and some nails.
“Penny nails,” Adam said absently.
When they’d lugged the ladder across the street and stood in front of their house, Adam said, “Okay, Gus, your call. Where are they going?”
“Can I go on the ladder?” she asked excitedly, eyes wide.
“Er, no, baby. Sorry, it’s too dangerous.” She pouted but shrugged. “Because I might have a heart attack,” he muttered.
“Let me guess,” Wes said. “You don’t like heights?”
Adam rounded on him, instantly defensive.
“Why would you say that?”
His whole life people had looked at his small stature and his sexual orientation and his sensitivity and assumed he was weak and scared.
And yeah, okay, he was afraid of some things. But it was natural to be afraid. There was nothing wrong with it. Tarantulas and snakes could be poisonous. It was self-preservation to fear them. He wasn’t upset that he was afraid of things; he was upset that people thought being afraid meant being weak.
And Adam Mills was definitely not weak.
Wes looked taken aback. “You just seemed really worried about Gus going up, so I thought… I don’t know. Sorry.”
Adam internally cringed at himself for being so defensive.
“Oh. Right. Um, no problem. That’s just because she’s, you know, a very small child.”
Wes nodded.
“I don’t really know much about children.”
“Surely you at least were one?” Adam said, trying to lighten the mood he’d cast in darkness.
Wes just blinked. “Not this kind.”
“What kind?”
He shrugged, and walked onto the porch, then around the side of the house.
“Here’s your outlet,” he said.
Gus pointed to the front of the house. “Let’s put them there, like an outline of light.”
Adam nodded and gathered the lights under his arm. Then he began to ascend the ladder.
The truth? Was that Adam was afraid of heights. But he would be goddamned if he was going to admit that in front of Wes now.
“Are you okay, Daddy?”
Gus sounded concerned and Adam realized he’d stopped four rungs up the ladder.
“Uh-huh, fine.” His voice broke but he made himself keep climbing.
From the top of the ladder, Adam surveyed the neighborhood below him.
This, it turned out, was a huge mistake.
“Oh god, oh god, ohgod, ohgodohgod. It’s tall. This is tall. High. Up here. This is dangerous! How many people die each year in routine Christmas decorating accidents?!”
“Careful, Daddy,” Gus said.
Wes said, “Three hundred ladder-related fatalities annually in the US. Hmm, I would’ve thought it’d be higher.”
Adam squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to unclench the claw of his fist from around the lights enough to find the end of the strand.
“Here’s ten years of Christmas-related injuries.” Wes scrolled on his phone. “Wow, 134,281 people were sent to the E.R. with holiday decoration-related injuries from 2008 to 2017. God, who knew.”
Adam’s whole body was rigid, and he heard himself make a tiny whimpering sound that he hoped didn’t reach the ground.
“They’re not straight, Daddy,” Gus called helpfully from the ground.
Adam, who was at the moment trying to figure out how on earth it was humanly possible to lift a string of lights, unpocket a nail, hammer in said nail, string the lights on the nail, and move the ladder to another position without falling to his death, just said, “Thank you, baby.”
After a great deal of ladder moving (because no, thank you, Wes, Adam did not want to simply climb onto the roof), thumb hammering, and light adjusting, Adam got all ten strands of lights hung.
He climbed down the ladder slowly, feeling extremely pleased with himself. Triumphant, even!
He let out a pleased sigh, slung his arm around Gus’ shoulders, and looked up at what he’d just accomplished.
And looked.
And tilted his head and looked some more.
“Huh,” he said.
“Hmm, Wes echoed.
The ten strands of lights barely outlined the front triangle of the roof, and even though they twinkled merrily in the darkness, the lights looked sparse against the clear sky full of stars.
“That,” Gus declared, “is not the most lights in the world.”
Which, frankly, was what they were all thinking.
“We’ll get more, sweetie,” Adam said, wanting to cling to the sense of triumph he’d felt only seconds before. “This is just a start.”
Gus nodded seriously.
“Okay,” she said.
The okay got him. Gus trusted that if he said something would happen, it would happen. He treasured her trust more even than her love. It was something he would never betray.
Which just meant he needed to figure out a way to acquire more lights. Lots more. So many more that whenever Gus looked at them, she would stop thinking about Boulder and their house there. She would stop thinking about the friends she’d left behind. And most of all, she’d stop thinking about Mason, her papa who, when Adam’s ultimatum came—be a part of their family or have no say in it, chose a life of freedom over being a father.
So many more that Gus would gaze at them and think only about how beautiful it was here, and how cozy their little house was. What a great holiday they would have together. And how very, very much Adam loved her.
Now if he could just figure out how to do that without bankrupting them—or becoming the 301st ladder-related fatality of the year—in the process.
A Dye Hard Holiday by Aimee Nicole Walker
“Stop your bitching and I’ll blow you.” Josh’s hushed words startled me because I didn’t hear him come up the steps behind me. He was quiet and sneaky like a ninja, but the kind that promised sexual favors instead of killing you. “We’re going to have a fucking Norman Rockwell holiday and you’re going to behave.”
“Or what?” I was picturing him tying me to our bed or cuffing me to a chair in his dance studio to teach me another lesson.
“You’ll ruin your mother’s first Christmas with her grandchildren.” Damn, my husband plays dirty.
“Damn you, Josh.”
“That’s what you said last night when I kept edging you and wouldn’t let you come.” He sounded pleased with himself, as he damn well should, but I wasn’t about to feed into his ego.
“Did you follow me up here to bust my balls?” I asked.
“No, I followed you up here so that I could suck your balls.”
I nearly tripped going up the next step, which would’ve been murder on the instant hard-on he always gave me. “Are you teasing me?”
“Do I ever?”
Josh never teased or offered something he wasn’t willing to give. If he said he came up to suck my balls then he did. “But our parents—”
“Are cuddling their infant grandbabies they haven’t seen in a few months. Trust me, Captain Comes Hard, they’ll forget we exist until their stomachs start to growl at dinnertime.”
“Is that why you had that huge lunch ready to go when they arrived?” I asked. Josh’s considerate scheming never failed to amaze me. Okay, scheming makes it sound like he is a shady character, which he isn’t, but the man always has a good plan in place for every occasion. I benefited from his craftiness more often than not.
“You didn’t seem too upset about the open-faced roast beef sandwiches with mashed potatoes and gravy that I served,” Josh sassily replied right before he pinched my ass.
“I’m not upset; I’m continually amazed by your brilliance.”
I hastily dumped the luggage in our parents’ suites then grabbed Josh’s hand and tugged him to our room. He was right; our parents wouldn’t even notice that we were missing.
“You’ll ruin your mother’s first Christmas with her grandchildren.” Damn, my husband plays dirty.
“Damn you, Josh.”
“That’s what you said last night when I kept edging you and wouldn’t let you come.” He sounded pleased with himself, as he damn well should, but I wasn’t about to feed into his ego.
“Did you follow me up here to bust my balls?” I asked.
“No, I followed you up here so that I could suck your balls.”
I nearly tripped going up the next step, which would’ve been murder on the instant hard-on he always gave me. “Are you teasing me?”
“Do I ever?”
“Are cuddling their infant grandbabies they haven’t seen in a few months. Trust me, Captain Comes Hard, they’ll forget we exist until their stomachs start to growl at dinnertime.”
“Is that why you had that huge lunch ready to go when they arrived?” I asked. Josh’s considerate scheming never failed to amaze me. Okay, scheming makes it sound like he is a shady character, which he isn’t, but the man always has a good plan in place for every occasion. I benefited from his craftiness more often than not.
“You didn’t seem too upset about the open-faced roast beef sandwiches with mashed potatoes and gravy that I served,” Josh sassily replied right before he pinched my ass.
“I’m not upset; I’m continually amazed by your brilliance.”
I hastily dumped the luggage in our parents’ suites then grabbed Josh’s hand and tugged him to our room. He was right; our parents wouldn’t even notice that we were missing.
His Perfect Christmas Gift by Ali Ryecart
Chapter One
“… wherever you are, you’d better keep your head down. Bloody hell, Felix, you’ve really done it this time. Seb’s on the rampage and he’s out for blood.” Dougal’s voice, over speaker phone, was grainy.
“For Christ’s sake, how many more times can I say this isn’t my fault? It’s bloody Rupert playing god only knows what game.”
“Hmm.”
“What do you mean, hmm?” Felix glowered at his phone, set up on hands free, as though Dougal could see him.
“You’ve got history. A lot of history, and everybody knows it. You take what you want without giving a second thought, and always have.”
Felix’s answering huff was loud with derision.
“I’m no angel, I accept that, but I certainly didn’t take Rupert. In any shape or form.” He gave an involuntary shudder. “He was all over me like a rash at the party and making it very clear what he wanted, but I had no interest in trying to rekindle what was a long ago, and decidedly luke warm, relationship. But…”
“But?”
“Okay, I almost kissed him. But much later when we were both trashed. Almost, Dougal. It never went beyond almost because I stopped. If Rupert’s claiming anything else, he’s out and out lying.”
“Felix, is your middle name Dickhead? There should never have even been an almost. They’re getting married on New Year’s Eve which is less than two weeks away. Almost should never have been an option, even for you.”
“I know, I know. But the point is, nothing happened. Nothing. Nil. Nando.”
“I think you mean nada.”
“Whatever. Look, even an almost kiss should have been out of the question, but almost means nothing happened, and that’s the truth.” Which I can repeat until I’m blue in the face but why bother when not even my best friend will believe me…
Over the airwaves, Dougal sighed. Irritation, despair and resignation. How could so much be expressed in one simple puff of air?
“I honestly don’t know what to think.”
“I was hoping you’d believe me rather than some cock and bull story Rupert’s putting about.” The words on Felix’s tongue were as bitter as week-old coffee grounds.
“I just don’t understand what Rupert would have to gain by making this up.”
“He’s a drama queen, is the short answer. Maybe he was trying to make Seb jealous for some obscure reason of his own.”
“Seb’s got a hot temper that’s best left unprovoked. The guy’s gone ape, and he’s making a big noise threatening to re-arrange your body parts when he gets his hands on you. But…” Dougal’s voice trailed off.
“But what?”
“The wedding. It’s now looking like it might not go ahead.”
Other than the swish of wiper blades, sweeping away the first light fall of snowflakes, and the low deep rumble from the sports car’s engine, silence filled the car.
“Dougal? What are you talking about?” Felix’s throat constricted, and his stomach knotted.
“Seb’s threatening to call off the wedding. Everybody’s doing their best to calm him down—”
“Why would he do that? If I’m the seducer of sweet and innocent Rupert — who’s neither sweet nor innocent, I can tell you — why would Seb want to call off the wedding? Maybe he’s not so sure of Rupert’s story and he’s looking for a get out. And it is a story. A fiction, a fabrication, a fucking fairy tale. Come on Dougal, you’ve got to believe me. Rupert came on to me. He bloody well cornered me in a bedroom. You do believe me, don’t you?”
Felix’s hands were a death grip on the steering wheel, and his pulse a hard, fast hammer in his neck. Dougal’s strung-out silence was the answer he didn’t want.
“Dougal?” Felix swallowed.
“To be honest, Felix, I just don’t know. Because this kind of thing, it’s what you do, isn’t it? Taking what’s not yours to take without a second thought for anybody or the havoc you’ll cause. Another man’s fiancé, just days before the wedding… but if you are the innocent party, why have you left London all of a sudden? It looks suspicious, you’ve got to admit.”
“Because I don’t want my body parts re-arranged. There’s no way Seb would listen to a word from me. Plus, I’m rather fond of the way my face looks, and I’ve no wish to have it battered to a pulp.”
“I don’t think it was your face he was thinking of re-arranging.”
On the westbound road leading out of London, the lights turned red. Felix pinched the bridge of his nose in the vain hope it would help stem the headache beginning to take root.
It had been just another party, and one of dozens in the run up to Christmas. The same old faces, the same conversation. The same old, same old. He’d almost not gone, and he wished to god he hadn’t. But with nowhere else to go…
Champagne had flowed like water. Cocktails, wine, spirits, it had all been there for the taking.
He’d got drunk and had staggered off to find a dark bedroom with a soft and inviting bed to crash in. Alone. Or he had been until Rupert had slipped around the door, offering more than seasonal goodwill. It was all there, his for the taking… Felix had done what he always did, and reached out for what wasn’t his, and screw the consequences.
They hadn’t even got as far as a sloppy, drunken kiss a pair of clumsy sixteen-year-olds would have been ashamed of when the goat’s cheese had got him, forcing Felix to gag and push Rupert back, along with all that temptation.
Goat’s cheese. He hated the rancid muck and up close and personal, Rupert had reeked of the ripest, goatiest goat’s cheese ever. It wasn’t often a man could claim to have been saved from himself, and the advances of a randy ex in search of a pre-marital bonk, by a soft cheese.
Rupert hadn’t been happy at being literally knocked back and had stormed off. Felix, the edges of the alcohol blunted, had fled in search of a cab home where he’d be safe from marauding ex-boyfriends.
Or so he’d thought.
The following night, Felix had been making his way home from yet another party, sober this time, bored and fed up but not quite knowing why. Turning the corner towards home, he’d stopped dead when he’d seen Seb, big, beefy, fired-up and threatening, hammering on his door in the early hours and screaming obscenities. The man had been in no mood to hear Felix’s rebuttal of whatever bullshit he’d been told by Rupert, and Felix had been in no mood to have one of Seb’s huge fists planted in the middle of his face. But why would Seb believe him anyway? As Dougal had pointed out, Felix had bad history.
A strategic retreat had followed. Felix had hailed a taxi and headed to a hotel for the night. The whole mess would be sorted out the following day.
It hadn’t.
“So, I guess I’m no longer on the guest list?”
“Christ, Felix,” Dougal burst out, making Felix jolt backwards into his car seat. “Haven’t you heard a word I said? It’s touch and go as to whether there is a guest list anymore. You really are a dickhead. You can have any man you want, you’ve always been able to, yet you just had to go for Rupert, didn’t you?”
“I’ve told you what happened.” Felix pushed the words out through gritted teeth. “The little shit’s being vindictive but it looks like his sordid stunt’s backfiring, doesn’t it?” A blast of horn behind Felix was a jarring reminder the lights had turned green. Lurching forward, he stalled, and earned another blast and a flick of the wrist from the cabbie as he manoeuvred around the sports car. Maybe the guy’s assessment of him wasn’t too far off the truth. “I’m coming back, and I’m going to set the record straight. Why should Rupert get away with this?”
Felix scanned either side of the road for somewhere to turn, but all the roads were one ways or deadends. He grimaced. Much like my bloody life…
“No. Just stay out of everybody’s way. You’ll only be throwing petrol on the fire.”
“The fire I’ve not caused, you mean?”
Dougal sighed and somehow it hurt more than any physical damage Seb could do.
In all the years they’d been friends, Dougal had been the only one who had any kind of belief in him, but Dougal’s deep and weary sigh was a worrying and disturbing sign his belief was draining like water from a leaky bucket.
“I think it might be best if you stay away from London and all your regular haunts for now. Seb’ll calm down, despite all the fuss he’s making. Probably.”
“Dougal, for once in my life I’m the one who’s being wronged. I’ve never lied to you, have I? Why would I start doing that now? You’re my only real friend.” Felix swallowed back the lump that was choking his throat.
Dougal. Solid, dependable Dougal, the man who considered every option, every pro and con, the man who even by his own admission had no imagination and not a risky bone in his body. Yet for all their differences, they’d been firm friends since their first days at school together.
“You’re right, I am your only real friend. Who else with any sense would put up with you?” Dougal huffed, but his voice softened a little. “But you need to start changing your ways, Felix. I’m not just talking about this shit show with Rupert, but more generally. I’m serious. You need to do it for your own sake if nobody else’s. Look, just lay low for now, at least until after the wedding. Make sure you can’t be found.”
“You make it sound like there’s a bullet with my name on it.” Felix tried to laugh, but Seb was a crack shot as the Scottish grouse knew only too well. “But you’re right, I will. I’m heading for—”
“No, don’t tell me, because then I won’t be able to fess up when Seb applies the thumbscrews. Ring me if you really need to but otherwise—”
“Lay low. I know. Thanks, Dougal, for well—”
“For god’s sake, don’t start getting all gooey on me. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to return. And please, don’t get into any more trouble — if that’s even possible. Oh, and happy Christmas.”
Dougal cut the call, plunging the interior of the car into silence.
Happy Christmas…. Not much chance of that.
As Felix edged forward through the heavy London traffic, wipers swooshing backwards and forwards to the background rumble of the engine, he had never felt more alone.
******
The snow that had been no more than a few fine and fluffy flakes when Felix had been leaving the western outskirts of London was now a thick and impenetrable curtain. He hunched himself over the steering wheel as if, by peering, his eyes screwed up, he’d be able to see his way through. The motorway traffic moved in small fits and starts and then he saw why. The faint glow of blue lights, flashing up ahead, a vicious parody of the glinting Christmas fairy lights that festooned every house on every street in the city. But these weren’t heralding in seasonal cheer, but seasonal despair for some unlucky mother, father, husband, wife, friend or lover.
The vehicles in front began to indicate left as everybody began jockeying for position to get into the inside lane. Inching along, a flashing arrow flickered, pointing the way off the motorway, diverting the traffic onto smaller roads. Felix squinted at his sat nav. The headache that earlier had been a background thrum had turned into a heavy metal group playing at full volume in his skull. Maybe he needed to get his eyes tested? But no. He was certainly shortsighted, but it had nothing to do with the state of his vision.
He’d screwed up plenty of times over the years, causing havoc just as Dougal had said, and he had no doubt he’d screw up again. But this time? No. Everybody was too eager to believe it was him, up to his tricks again. Something’s a mess, so Felix must be at the centre of it… Even Dougal didn’t know whether to believe him.
Felix’s hands itched to spin the steering wheel and confront Rupert and Seb. He should go back and get this whole stupid mess sorted. But his shoulders sagged. All that petrol thrown on the flames. His presence would cause a conflagration. If Dougal was right about anything, it was that.
A storm in a teacup had turned into the mother of all shit storms.
It wasn’t just Seb who was baying for his blood.
The news of his supposed screw up had reached his father that morning, which felt like a lifetime ago. The angry phone call had been a bellowed out reminder of what Felix already knew. He was a disappointment, a disgrace, good for nothing other than lurching from one party to another, and casting around for another life to ruin. And then the clincher: why couldn’t he be more like his brother and sister? Oh yes, his father had made his views known, just as he always did, because the old man had been telling him that in one version or another for as long as Felix could remember.
Felix took another look at the sat nav. He’d been forced from the motorway, three junctions short of where he needed to exit, onto a long and winding A-road heading southwest. At the end of it lay a luxury spa hotel, a last minute refuge from the storm, where a good dinner with a bottle of fine wine and a soft bed awaited him. And if he could swing it, a hot and hard body to share it with. Or perhaps not. Dougal had told him to lay low and keep out of trouble, and for once that sounded like good advice. The snow was still falling, but had lessened a little; it was still slow going and as Felix listened to the mellow tones of the sat nav telling him to follow the road for fifteen miles, his mind began to drift.
Yes, he could keep a low profile for the next couple of weeks, but what then? Back to London, he supposed, and back to the hedonistic, empty life — his father’s words, not his — but they had the uncomfortable ring of truth about them. That was exactly what his life was and he’d always been happy to live it that way. But more recently? Not so much. One by one, his friends were doing something more with their lives: getting married, having babies — he shivered, God forbid that was ever him — achieving great things in their careers, making their marks on the world. And what was he doing? Squandering his generous allowance and sleeping with men he didn’t much like and cared even less about.
“What the—?” Felix lunged forward, his seat belt biting into the side of his neck, his forehead whacking the steering wheel as the car skidded across the icy road and hit a snow covered hedge before coming to a juddering halt.
He slumped back into the driver’s seat, breathing hard, his head pounding. With a shaky hand, he felt where he’d slammed his head, feeling for the blood that must be there, relief fluttering in his chest when his fingers came back dry and stain-free.
The snow beat against the windscreen, twisting and turning in an angry swirl as a hard wind buffeted the car. Staring out at the wild weather, Felix scrunched his brow, then winced at the shot of pain spearing through his head. How hadn’t he noticed the downturn in the weather, and when had the gloomy afternoon turned so dark? On the unlit road as the very last of the light was fading to black, visibility was down to nothing more than a few feet. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He needed to stop navel gazing about his life and concentrate on where he was going. Felix laughed, the sound hard, brutal and humourless in the silent car. He’d spent his entire life not concentrating, which was why he was in the mess he was now.
Restarting the engine, he began to back up — and hit something hard.
“Oh no…”
Pulse thumping hard, the whoosh of blood filling his ears, Felix threw off his seatbelt and jumped out of the car. The road was empty, there was no sign of life.
But you’ve been daydreaming, so how would you know…
“Don’t say, please don’t say…”
He stared down at the back of the car, tight-chested and dry-mouthed.
“Christ…” Thrusting his fingers through his hair, Felix began to laugh as he slumped against the side of his sleek red sports car.
Not the splayed legs of another life he’d wrecked, but a large metal Road Closed sign, bashed and dented and laying next to a yellow Diversion sign with an arrow pointing off to the left.
Climbing back into his car he sat for a moment with his eyes closed, willing his thumping heart to slow and calm. The hotel, just get to the hotel, then crawl into bed, pull the duvet up over his head and forget everything and everybody.
There was only one way to go and that was to follow the diversion. The sat nav was already resetting itself, adding—
“Oh, for god’s sake.”
A dozen more miles to the hotel and another hour added to his journey, through twisty, winding lanes.
He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was almost four in the afternoon. The last of the weak light was gone, and the snow was falling heavier than ever as the strengthening wind rocked the car. He needed to get moving and fast, but fast was the last thing he could do as he made his way down the narrow country road, creeping along in low gear, skidding if he attempted anything more than fifteen miles per hour.
Twisting and turning, and twisting again, the lane seemed to be getting narrower with every few feet he travelled. There were no passing places, as far as Felix could see — not that he could see much — and he prayed to whoever might be listening that he didn’t meet another vehicle.
Felix crouched over the steering wheel, staring into the white tunnel of his headlights. White, everything was white. The banked up snow hemmed him in, his head lights illuminating it all. He glanced at his sat nav, hardly daring to take his eyes from the road.
“No…”
The dozen miles to the hotel had turned into twenty.
How the hell…? The twisting, snaking road, the turns left and right, and left again, were taking him further from his hotel, not nearer. He stopped the car in the middle of the road, and yelled into the void.
“Fuck it. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.”
Felix slammed the heels of his hands against the horn, over and over, anger and frustration a maelstrom within him. He was running away when he should be standing up and defending himself but instead he was alone in this snowbound hell. Shaking, he started up the engine, but heavy footed on the peddle, he skidded, lurching from one side of the lane to the other yet somehow missing ploughing into the high hedges either side as he swung around a sharp bend.
The windscreen filled with a hard and blinding light and the deafening blare of a horn was a knife plunged into his eardrums. There was nowhere to pull into, nowhere to go, and the sleek red car spun out of control as the white light and the roaring horn came for him.
“Is this it…?” Was this how it was going to end, under a set of wheels on some nameless winterbound road?
Felix screamed with the impact before the world went black and his screaming stopped.
The Boyfriend Cruise by Deanna Wadsworth
Chapter One
DAY ONE—At Sea
The warm Florida sunshine bathed Josh Gilbert, and he turned his face into it as he walked up the cruise ship gangway, rolling luggage in tow. His weather app said the temps back home in Indiana would reach a balmy fifteen degrees.
Josh still couldn’t believe Mom and Dad had surprised their family—and Josh’s best friend—with a Caribbean cruise for Christmas.
Falling in line behind his older brother, Luke, and his wife, Ramona, the Gilbert clan hauled suitcases and bags of holiday presents onto their new home for the week—the Pride of the Caribbean.
Dwarfed somewhat by the giant cruise liners docked beside them in the Port of Miami, the elegantly appointed Pride made a grand first impression when they entered the lobby behind a slew of other passengers.
“Check out this place,” Luke said, craning his neck, eyes wide.
In awe, they all took in the plush red carpets, crystal chandeliers, and the sleek gold-and-glass banister of the impressive grand staircase. A colossal Christmas tree sat proudly on the first landing, a set of stairs branching to either side and draped in glittering garlands. The tree glistened with white twinkling lights, bows, seashells, and large glass ornaments that, when they caught the light just right, seemed to flicker and dance.
How much did Dad shell out for this trip? Josh wondered.
“Dang, this ship is da bomb,” Aaron muttered in Josh’s ear.
Pleasantly stunned, Josh glanced up at his tall BFF. “No doubt,” he agreed, and then he flinched at something unexpected.
In front of him, two men held hands, chatting with excitement about the cruise.
Though it made Josh happy to see—and more than a tad jealous—openly gay couples in public still surprised him.
If only Josh could ever have something like that in his life.
“Have you figured it out, Josh?” Mom asked, gesturing toward a different couple boarding the ship—two women holding hands.
Puzzle pieces began to fit together, creating a picture Josh wasn’t sure he liked. He narrowed his eyes at his mother. “What’s going on?”
Mom twirled a brown curl around one finger, grinning. Curvy and short—he’d inherited that from her along with the brown hair and eyes—she looked ready to burst.
But Josh’s sister-in-law exploded first.
“It’s a gay cruise!” Ramona cried.
Josh shook his head. “What?”
“We’re gonna find you a boyfriend for Christmas!” Clare announced.
Josh whirled on his sister. “What did you say, Clare?”
She clutched her hands to her ample chest, her curvy figure promising the same weight struggle Mom and Josh suffered. “That we’re gonna find you a boyfriend for Christmas,” his little sister repeated. “This cruise line is gay-friendly, which means there should be plenty of guys for you to have a shipboard romance. Isn’t that great?”
Dad and Luke squirmed, as if caught in the women’s schemes too, or perhaps they feared Josh’s response. Dad was an aged version of his eldest son, as tall and lean as the rest of the family was short and round.
“It’ll be fun, Josh,” Luke assured him, shifting foot to foot. “No pressure.”
“Yes, pressure,” Ramona insisted, slapping her husband on the arm, her white teeth as dazzling against her brown skin as her white sundress. “He’s getting on board single, but he’s not leaving that way.”
Aaron laughed, and Josh glared at him.
“And I have just the trick,” Mom said, rummaging in her giant purse.
Unable to believe his ears, Josh frowned at Dad. “Were you in on this?”
Before Dad could answer, a stranger stepped in front of Josh. Middle-aged and overly tanned, he wore a lecherous grin.
“What’s this?” the stranger asked. “Mistletoe?”
Then shocking Josh into a stupor, the man kissed him right on the lips.
“What the—” Josh recoiled.
“Name’s Brian,” the guy said, still grinning. “Find me later for a dance.”
Then he slipped into the crowd of passengers.
“What the heck?” Josh spun to face Mom.
Grinning like a fiend, she had a children’s fishing rod in her hand, and rather than a worm dangling from the hook, she’d hung a clump of mistletoe.
“What are you doing?” he cried, too stunned to be as angry as he should’ve been.
“Getting you a man,” Mom said, her face serious now.
Josh set his rolling suitcase on all four wheels and then crossed his arms to glare at her. “You are certifiable, you know that?”
“Certifiably the best matchmaker you know,” she quipped. “Ask Clare and Luke how good I am.”
Luke threw an arm around his pretty wife, and they shared a loving kiss. “Luckiest man in the whole world that Mom introduced me to her tennis coach.” After six years of marriage—sans kids, though not for lack of trying—Luke and Ramona were living the high-end life with their goldendoodle, Fred.
Patting Josh on the shoulder, Clare sighed. “Seriously, dude, you should let Mom pick a guy for you. She has the gift.” Clare’s husband, William, was the son of a lady in Mom’s bunco group. They were married last Valentine’s Day.
“No,” Josh declared, waving his hand in a sweeping gesture of finality. He couldn’t argue against Mom’s success thus far, but Mom would not be how he found his first real boyfriend.
“You can find me a boyfriend, Mrs. G.” Aaron took the fishing rod from her and waggled it over his own head. “Mistletoe, boys!”
Sure enough, Josh’s attractive friend soon had a line of four guys waiting to kiss him. Josh’s face flamed with embarrassment when the third guy added some tongue action and a grope on the ass, which Aaron didn’t seem to find offensive at all.
Josh would die a million deaths if some guy kissed him like that in public—especially in front of his family.
Mom laughed and took back her fishing pole. “You don’t need any help,” she told Aaron, who was still whispering something in bachelor number three’s ear.
Josh pointed at his mother. “Keep that thing away from me.”
“You’re such a party pooper,” she scolded.
“That’s enough,” Dad decided. “Let’s find our rooms.”
As the Gilbert clan moved forward, much to Josh’s further horror, Ramona announced, “Single hot gay guy coming through!”
“Ramona,” Josh hissed, face on fire.
“It’s my job to take pictures of all the single hot guys on this cruise ship,” a sultry voice said from off to the left.
Josh jumped and turned, shocked by the camera pointed at him.
Click.
The lens lowered, and the hottest man Josh had ever laid eyes on was grinning at him.
Tanned, blond, and straight off a Ralph Lauren yacht, the man wore white pants, a navy jacket, and a red ascot. He was tall, lean, and broad in the shoulders, with green eyes a man could get lost in and a face like Adonis himself!
“Uh...?”
“Nathan Bradshaw, shipboard photographer,” the man introduced himself, his blond hair glistening in the sparkling lights of the chandelier.
Or maybe Josh just imagined it glistened. The guy was startling to look at.
Nathan extended a well-manicured hand. “Welcome aboard the Pride.”
“Uh...?”
“This is Josh,” Ramona piped up, bodily pushing him closer to the handsome stranger.
A warm hand, soft but firm, took hold of Josh’s.
“He’s single,” Clare said.
“Is that so?” Nathan drawled, shaking Josh’s hand and not letting go. “Well, so am I, Josh. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, um... you too, Nathan.” That’s when clarity came to Josh’s stunned brain. He scowled at his meddling family. “You guys, just stop,” he hissed, dropping the man’s hand like a house afire.
Clare’s big brown eyes widened innocently. “What?”
Nathan chuckled, and Josh’s face heated further—if such a thing were possible.
“Everybody needs a cheering section,” Nathan said. Then he gestured to the whole Gilbert clan. “Everybody, get closer. Let’s immortalize the moment you began the best vacation of your life.”
Josh squished between Clare and Ramona, while Dad, Aaron, and Luke took the back and Mom the far left. Josh somehow managed to say “cheese” along with everyone else while Nathan snapped a few pics.
Nathan looked at his display. “Perfect. Now, let’s get one of each couple.”
“We’re a couple.” Ramona pointed at Luke, then Mom and Dad. “And so are they. Those three are all flying solo.”
“So you said.” Nathan eyed Josh with a sideways grin that could almost be described as predatory.
Josh’s cheeks warmed, and he couldn’t smile. I must be losing my mind. This is all some sort of twisted dream. Please wake up. Wake up!
But nothing happened, except Aaron and Clare posing on either side of him and Nathan raising the camera again.
“C’mon, smile for the camera,” Nathan prompted, and somehow Josh managed to suck in his gut and smile.
Looking only at Josh, Nathan stepped toward them. “The pictures will be displayed on the viewing screens near the purser’s desk on the promenade at 7:00 p.m. tonight. They’re available for purchase anytime during the cruise.” He leaned in close and whispered, “But just a tip, they go on sale the last day, so keep track of the numbers for the ones you want.” Not leaning out of Josh’s personal space, Nathan winked at him. “Just don’t tell anybody or it might get me fired.”
Josh swallowed, nervous all of a sudden with how close Nathan had gotten and how delicious his cologne smelled. Like honey or something else equally warm and inviting. Josh couldn’t quite place it, but he liked it. Before he could get another chance to identify the alluring fragrance, the gorgeous photographer had slipped back into the crowd, smiling and flirting with the next group of passengers.
For a hot second, Josh had imagined Nathan was actually flirting with him, but he quickly pushed such thoughts away.
It’s his job to flirt. Get over yourself!
“He was handsome,” Mom said.
He flinched at her hovering behind him, and then he frowned at her. “So is Brad Pitt. Doesn’t mean he wants me.”
She scoffed. “Oh, if Brad Pitt ever saw this face, he’d switch teams, for sure.”
And then, to Josh’s horror, she pinched both of his cheeks.
Hating it when she did that, but grateful she didn’t add her usual “just look at these chipmunk cheeks,” Josh wriggled out of her grasp. “Don’t pull on my skin. You’ll give me wrinkles.”
She scoffed again. “You’re only twenty-seven. What do you know about wrinkles?”
“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” Aaron chimed.
Yeah, it was bad enough at twenty-seven Josh had never had a real boyfriend. The last thing he needed was premature wrinkling. His family was already going to make him prematurely gray.
“C’mon,” Dad said. “I’m tired after all the driving. Let’s get to our rooms and get settled. I think there’s a margarita somewhere on this ship with my name on it.”
Several crewmembers with tablets mingled in the crowd, giving directions to staterooms. Dad made a beeline toward a man in a Santa hat, holding a tablet, who stood beside a distinguished-looking fellow in a captain’s uniform.
“Welcome aboard,” the man with the tablet said. Though he looked almost Mom and Dad’s age, his tanned skin was flawless and his hair a rich brown. “I’m Raoul, your purser, and this is Captain Leonides.”
“Welcome aboard,” the captain said, with a tip of his hat. He was quite handsome, in an exotic Mediterranean sort of way, with the faintest hint of gray at his temples. Definitely looked competent to captain their ship, a man born to be at sea.
I might die of embarrassment, but at least not from shipwreck.
“Thank you,” Dad said, and everyone else repeated similar greetings. “We’re the Gilbert family. I believe we have four rooms booked.”
Raoul swiped a few times and tapped on his tablet. “Yes, the Gilberts. You are in cabins F1, 2, 3, and 4, on the Fiesta deck. Very nice accommodations you’ve chosen. Some of our finest suites, each with ocean views and balconies.”
“Balconies?” Luke cried, sliding down his shades, his brown eyes wide. “How much money did you spend on this, Dad?”
Dad raised a hand. “You know it’s rude to ask that. This is your Christmas present, and I want us all to have a great time. I even got us the unlimited drink package.”
“Woo-hoo, margaritas, here I come,” Aaron declared, raising his hand for a high five from Clare, which she returned after a slight frown.
“You guys better have a great time,” Mom said. “Because none of you are getting birthday gifts from us this year.”
Josh laughed. Dad had an overly generous spirit, but Mom kept a tight rein on the family purse strings. She might have married a renowned heart surgeon, but she never forgot the trailer she was born and raised in. She passed along the value of money to all of her children—well, maybe not to Clare. As the youngest and the only girl, Clare was more than spoiled. Dad had bailed her out of credit card debt twice that Josh knew of.
“No birthday present for me? Mrs. G, that’s just cruel,” Aaron cried.
She patted his cheek rather than pinching it, Josh noted. “Oh, well, maybe for you.”
“That’s fair,” Clare muttered to Josh, and he wisely said nothing.
Clare might be spoiled and bad with money, but Josh adored her. And since her husband was currently in Afghanistan fighting for their freedoms and she would be spending her first Christmas as a married woman without him, he kept the comment to himself that she shouldn’t worry. Daddy’s girl always got a present.
A large, stoic bellman loaded their suitcases, gift bags, and wrapped presents onto a trolley, grunting a “No” when Dad tried to help. Raoul gave him instructions to deliver their things to the suites, and the man lumbered toward an elevator.
Raoul snapped his fingers, and as if out of nowhere, a very petite woman with a bright smile and a pink streak in her hair appeared.
Aaron jumped back and put his hands to his chest. “You just came out of nowhere, didn’t you?”
“I’m little,” she quipped.
“Penelope dear, please show the Gilbert family to their suites,” Raoul told her.
She grinned impishly. “Right this way, family,” she said in a cheery voice. All but floating up the grand staircase with her hands at the small of her back, Penelope led them to their rooms.
“Have you sailed with us before?” Penelope asked Dad, gazing up at him with big doe eyes she batted coquettishly.
“No, first time.” Dad smiled down at her, seeming smitten with how cute and tiny she was.
“Isn’t she adorable?” Mom whispered to Josh.
“Yeah, sure, I guess,” he said. For a flash, Josh thought Penelope frowned at him, but the change in her face happened so quick he probably imagined it.
Penelope was very pretty, but her long eyelashes were as fake as the pink streak in her blonde hair. The glitter across her brow and eyelids might’ve been unprofessional, but this was a gay-friendly cruise. He wondered if she was on the rainbow, but couldn’t be sure with the way she giggled so flirtatiously with Dad.
“Here is the first suite,” Penelope announced, pausing outside F1. She studied Josh and Aaron. “I pick this one for you two.”
“Um, okay,” Josh said, figuring it was her attempt at being cute and the rooms were assigned.
The act worked on Dad and Luke, if the way they tilted their heads and smiled at her were any indicator—as if they couldn’t decide if she was real or not. Regardless, Luke had better stop staring or his feisty wife would smack him one.
But when Penelope opened the first room, all their eyes went straight to the spacious suite and dazzling view.
Josh gasped.
“Holy ocean view, Batman,” Aaron exclaimed.
The room was gorgeous, not cramped like the cruise he went on for spring break in college. They each had a double bed, and there was a sitting area with a couch, a door that probably led to the bathroom, and sliding doors that opened to a balcony, which currently faced the Port of Miami. Towels folded into wreaths with soaps for ornaments and big red bows lay on each bed. A pretty Christmas tree with blown-glass ornaments that seemed to glisten and dance in the light was perched on the table between the beds. Mirrored closet doors visually doubled the space, and much to Josh’s surprise, their luggage had already arrived.
“Wow” was all Josh could say.
Dad and Mom grinned, and rubbernecking behind them, his siblings had eyes as wide as their mouths.
“Have fun, boys,” Penelope sang.
Josh pulled out his wallet to tip Penelope, but Dad raised a hand. “No, no, save your money for souvenirs.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Aaron went up and hugged first Mom, then Dad. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. G. Can you adopt me?”
Mom laughed. “I think we did that a long time ago.”
“Moving this way, family,” Penelope announced. “Let’s see which of you get the next room.” Then she flitted away, the rest of the Gilberts following and her voice fading like tinkling sleigh bells as their suite door shut.
Once alone, Josh and Aaron exchanged looks.
“This is going to be the best vacation ever,” Aaron declared.
Josh put his hands on his hips. “Fess up. Did you know Mom and Dad booked a gay-friendly cruise to find me a boyfriend?”
Aaron waved him off. “Why are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?” He was tall, fit, and had the prettiest dark curls and blue eyes—which was why he never had a problem scoring a date.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” He made a beeline to the balcony door and slid it open, filling the suite with warm salty air. “And yes, I knew it was gay-friendly, and the girls have this notion that you’ll have a shipboard romance and fall in love. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. All I know is that you’re the luckiest SOB on earth to have a family who would pick a gay cruise line just for you. And your mom even booked us all mani-pedis this afternoon. Your dad and Luke are getting massages. Bet they’re hoping that little pink pixie, Penelope, is the massage therapist.” He snorted at his own joke, obviously noting the same thing Josh did about the way Dad and Luke had been enraptured with the woman.
Chagrined, Josh shuffled his feet, studying his sandals. He knew he was lucky. Aaron’s family would never go on a ship like this. Especially his father. The man could barely look at Aaron sometimes. His mom and brother were never cruel, but Josh always sensed they weren’t sure how to take the flamboyant Aaron. Sometimes, if Aaron had too much to drink, he’d cry or bitch about them, saying he felt more love from Josh’s family than his own.
Evidenced by the coin Dad put out for this trip, the Gilberts viewed Aaron as family too.
“Yeah, I know I sound ungrateful—”
“You do.”
“But I hope they don’t run around the ship looking for a man for me. That will be so humiliating. And that mistletoe fishing pole? What the heck?”
“That mistletoe got me a hot date for the Christmas costume party tonight. And your family means well,” Aaron said, leaning on the railing and tipping his face up to the sun.
Not a fan of heights, Josh popped his head out onto the balcony. “Nice view. I won’t be sitting out here.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t you heard about all the people who fall off cruise ships?”
Aaron scoffed. “Only jealous husbands push their wives overboard. That would never happen on a gay ship.”
Josh chuckled but wisely stepped inside. “Promise me you won’t go on the balcony after we’ve been drinking, ’kay?”
“Okay, worrywart, as long as you promise to let loose. Have fun.” Aaron gave Josh a shimmy. “This is a cruise custom designed for us!”
“Okay, I promise to have fun.”
“Ground rules.” Aaron sprawled out on the bed closest to the balcony, lacing his fingers behind his head. “If the Do Not Disturb is on the door, we won’t interrupt any hookups. Any overnighters, we have to okay with the other, that way one of us can sleep in Clare’s room.”
“Okay.” Josh laughed, doubting very much he’d have an overnight guest.
“And no fucking in each other’s bed,” Aaron added. “I love you, but even I have standards.”
“I’m fine with whatever,” Josh said. “We both know you’re the only one who’s going to be hooking up in this room. I should probably just move my stuff into Clare’s room right now.”
“You don’t know that. You could meet the man of your dreams.”
Josh scoffed, his mind revisiting a pair of green eyes and golden hair sparkling in the sunlight.... Nope, never gonna happen. “Yeah, like I’m gonna meet the man of my dreams.”
“You never know what could happen.”
“I’m too fat.”
“No, you’re not. I know how hard you’ve been trying to lose weight. You look amazing.”
“I could stand to lose another twenty pounds.”
“Don’t,” Aaron scolded. “I hate it when you get down on yourself.”
“It’s just the truth.”
“Says you. Just try and chill out for once. Don’t worry about your waistline or whatever whatever rules you’ve made up in your head. Just go out there and have fun. Who knows? Maybe something magical will happen.”
As he unpacked, listening to Aaron list all the activities and excursions the ship offered, Josh knew he could be a stick in the mud. Well, in comparison to Aaron, anyway. But he’d been looking forward to a relaxing vacation with no computers, deadlines, or spreadsheets, and no worries. He didn’t even have to worry about any homophobes on this trip.
His thoughts alighted again on the cute photographer, Nathan.
Maybe this boyfriend cruise might not be so bad.
His family loved him enough to pick this ship, and honestly, until this moment, a shipboard romance hadn’t been an option. He hadn’t been on board half an hour and he’d already been kissed once—even if he wasn’t pleased with Mom about it.
This ship was full of potential for a guy like Josh.
Aaron was right. Josh needed to let loose this week. He’d waited his entire life to find romance, so if a chance presented itself, he should not squander the opportunity.
Even if that meant his family embarrassing him all over the Caribbean.
Not So Silent Night by HL Day
Chapter One
Xander
As I tumbled down the snowy slope. I wouldn't exactly say that my life flashed before my eyes, but I certainly reconsidered a few of my life choices. Chief among them was letting my on/ off boyfriend, Harvey, talk me into going skiing in St. Moritz. To say I'd been dead set against it was a huge understatement. I’d wanted to go somewhere hot. Preferably somewhere with a long expanse of white, sandy beach, where the sea was so clear you could see the marine life swimming beneath the surface. Harvey… hadn't. And as usual, Harvey had gotten his way, mainly because no trip was worth the amount of sulking that Harvey was capable of. If there was a prize for petulance, Harvey would win the star prize, and manage to be runner-up all at the same time.
I blamed his upbringing. While Harvey might be a world-renowned photographer in his own right, I couldn't help but suspect that his yacht-owning parents, and the circles they mixed in— Hollywood royalty and all— hadn't exactly hampered his choice of career. It made life a lot easier when you could pick up the phone to Auntie Susan and suggest a couple of pictures of her holding her newly acquired Oscar. I was probably being unfair. Who was I to say that Harvey Walker wouldn't have been successful without the head start? After all, he didn't exactly lack talent. My own modeling headshots were testament to that.
So, skiing it was. It wasn't that I couldn't ski, but I lacked the natural ability of someone who’d learned it practically alongside walking, and had perfected their technique year after year. And we weren’t alone on this trip. Harvey had brought his usual entourage along with him: his manager, his PA, and two people who I hadn’t quite worked out what they did yet, but they always seemed to be there.
They were all natural skiers, while I was relegated to the beginner slopes. Me and a pair of eight-year-old German twins, who it could be argued were already a lot better than I was. It sucked to be dumped while the rest of the group wandered off laughing and joking. By day four, I’d had enough and had convinced myself that whatever they could do I could do, well, not better. I wasn’t quite that delusional, but I should be able to hold my own. How hard could it be? It was just another slope, which was a bit steeper and a bit longer than the one I’d spent four days skiing down. Improvement came with challenge.
The result. This… uncontrolled… I suppose there was no other word for it, unless I wanted to use the word ‘fall’ down the ski slope. How fast could a human body travel and still survive? But this was snow, right? Snow was meant to be soft, and no slope could go on forever. It had to end, and I had to come to a stop eventually. And once I had, I'd laugh at my own stupidity of thinking I was ready for this. I’d pick myself up, I'd go back to the lodge and have a very stiff drink, maybe some god-awful cocktail that had about twelve different types of alcohol in it, and then I’d get on a plane and go somewhere I wanted to go. Harvey could follow or he could stay here. I wasn't sure I cared much at the moment, especially given that he’d spent most of the previous night flirting outrageously with the bartender who hadn’t looked a day over eighteen.
The fence came rushing toward me at an impressive speed. Although, I supposed it was the other way around. The impact was sickening, the air squeezed from my lungs and leaving me struggling to pull in enough oxygen. At first, I was glad to be alive. But then the pain started, sharp enough to tell me that something wasn’t right.
Someone in a bright Day-Glo green ski suit came to a perfectly executed stop right next to me, Harvey lifting his goggles away from his face to peer down at me. “Jesus, babe, are you alright? I thought you were never going to stop. You were going so fast I could barely keep up.” His words said concern, but the expression on his face was more amusement. The last thing I needed while lying in an ungainly heap at the bottom of a mountain was someone finding it funny. It was Harvey’s fault I was here, with here being St. Moritz and the ski slope. Surely, I was entitled to at least a small amount of guilt from him.
He bent over, the expression on his face rapidly changing to something that could only be described as horror. “Oh!”
“What?” I lifted my head to see what had provoked the strange reaction. There was a piece of fencepost sticking out of my upper thigh. The wound around it was bleeding profusely, the droplets of blood startlingly red against the white of the snow. There was quite a lot of it as well. That wasn't good. Retching sounds came from my left. Harvey didn’t like blood. I couldn't say I was a huge fan of it myself, especially when it was my own. I was spared the inevitable sound of Harvey vomiting when I passed out.
******
Hospital. I had that thought even before I opened my eyes. It was the smell, that unmistakable mixture of disinfectant and illness. Someone had removed my ski gear, and the area below my waist was swathed in bandages. I tried to shift position, the immediate stab of eyewatering pain telling me that staying still was a much better option. Everything hurt: my head, my arms, my legs, my torso. I’d picked a fight with a ski slope and I’d lost. Or maybe it was the fence rather than the ski slope. It probably didn’t matter either way. A nurse appeared by the side of my bed, her greeting in German.
I shook my head. “English.”
She smiled. “I understand. We will speak English.”
Her English, while heavily accented, was nigh on perfect. It was certainly better than my German. I doubted she would have been impressed by me asking for a pint of beer, or inquiring if she could please point me toward the nearest train station. “What happened?”
“You fell on the ski slope, Mr. Cole. We have many patients come to us from St. Moritz. It is our best customer.”
I didn't smile at her attempt at a joke. “I meant… what's wrong with me?”
She nodded. “You have badly fractured pelvis, and also a deep… how would you say… laceration, I think that is the right word, in your thigh that needed stitching. The fractured pelvis will heal on its own, but I'm afraid these things are somewhat slow. You will be off your feet for some time.”
While it wasn't good news, it could have been worse.
“You also have a slight concussion, and multiple bruises and contusions.”
I nodded. No wonder I felt like I’d been hit by a freight train. Poor Harvey must have been beside himself with worry. Once he’d stopped throwing up at the sight of blood, that was. Was that why he wasn’t by my side? “Is Harvey here? Is he okay?”
The nurse looked puzzled for a moment. “Harvey.” She gave the name some consideration, and then brightened. “Harvey is the photographer, yes?”
My nod this time was eager.
The nurse gestured toward the door. “He is outside. Would you like me to get him for you?”
“Please.”
She left the room and I waited, minutes ticking by after her departure. Had she forgotten to tell him I was awake? Finally, the door opened and Harvey walked in with his phone pressed to his ear. “… I know, right. I could have told them that. I completely understand, but trust me, it’s not an issue. I can be there by tomorrow. There’s a flight out of here in a couple of hours and I can sleep on the plane. James is already packing my bags as we speak. I just need you to send a car to pick me up at the airport.” There was a long pause. “Yeah… great. See you then.”
Only once he’d finished the call did his gaze drop to me. “Babe, you look better.”
Did I? It had been what, a couple of hours since the accident? I wasn’t leaking blood anymore, so I supposed there was that. “You can be where tomorrow?”
Harvey’s face became animated. “Do you remember how that prick, Jason Danford, got the contract for the new Chanel perfume campaign.”
Remember it. Harvey hadn’t stopped going on about it for at least a week. He’d accused Jason of everything from blackmail to sleeping with every member of the team involved in the decision-making process. I nodded, a little voice at the back of my head asking me why we were talking about this while I was laid in a hospital bed. But then I had asked the question.
“Well…” Harvey’s smile could only be described as wolfish. “Guess who got caught doing coke off a hooker? Chanel dropped him so quickly that I bet he’s got scorch marks on his ass. Of course, they’ve offered me the contract, which they would have done in the first place if they’d had any sense and then they could have avoided all this. They need me to fly straight to L.A, sign the contract, and then get started.”
I was confused. It felt like I’d gone to sleep in one universe and woken up in another. And I wasn’t entirely convinced that mild concussion had anything to do with it. “When did this happen?” I had visions of Harvey on the ski slope, stopping mid vomit to take the call. He’d probably used me as a seat. “What about me?”
Harvey’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he couldn’t quite understand the link between the two things. “They said you’re going to be fine.”
“I’ve got a fractured pelvis.”
The furrow deepened slightly.
“I’m stuck in Switzerland.”
Harvey nodded slowly. “Do you need money?”
Money? If I hadn’t known it would hurt like hell, I might have laughed. “No, I don’t need money! I have my own money. And money doesn’t solve everything.” I had to be careful throwing out statements like that. The concept was likely so alien to Harvey that I ran the risk of him spontaneously combusting on the spot.
Harvey ran a hand through his hair. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
“Like what?” I didn’t even attempt to disguise the disappointment in my voice, but if Harvey noticed he didn’t react to it. His phone started to ring again. He grimaced, leaning over to drop a quick kiss on my forehead before straightening and checking the screen. “I have to take this.”
He was already back on the phone before he left the room. Thirty minutes had gone by before I realized that he hadn’t just left the room to take the call. He wasn’t coming back. He’d abandoned me in the middle of Switzerland with a fractured pelvis.
The nurse came back a few minutes later. She took one look at my face and asked what I needed. I told her more pain medication and a phone to call my brother, not necessarily in that order. She sorted out both in record time.
Miles was there by the middle of the next afternoon. He’d dropped everything to get on a plane straightaway, and I loved him for it. He arrived in the hospital straight from the airport, looking rumpled and tired, and carrying a small suitcase that he hadn’t bothered to drop off anywhere in his rush to come to my aid.
I blamed that for the fact that when he walked into the room all I wanted to do was cry.
Seeing my expression, he abandoned his suitcase in the middle of the floor and almost threw himself into the plastic chair at the side of the bed. “Jesus, Xander. What’s wrong? Are they not giving you enough pain medication? Let me talk to the nurse. I’ll get them to up it.”
I managed a smile as I shook my head. “Just happy to see you, that’s all.”
He quirked an eyebrow. We had a fairly typical sibling relationship. We needled each other. We wound each other up. We both knew that we loved the other, but hell would freeze over before we ever said it out loud. Therefore, I’d just broken the unspoken brother code by expressing happiness at his presence. “Or maybe it’s a case of too much pain medication, hey?”
I was feeling pretty floaty, the last dose of whatever they were giving me— I hadn’t actually asked— delivered about twenty minutes previously. “Probably. But I am glad you came.”
Miles smiled. “Of course I came. I was hardly going pass up the opportunity of having you at my mercy. I can say absolutely anything I want to you and you’ve got no choice but to listen to it.” He reached over to pat my arm, the action at odds with his words.
“I want to go home.”
Miles tipped his head to one side. “Where’s home?”
It was a fair question. The reality of modeling meant I spent a lot of time flitting between various countries. I had a house in London, another in LA, and I’d been thinking of buying one in Australia but hadn’t gotten round to it yet. “London. Home, home.”
Miles nodded. “I just need to get permission for you to fly and then we’ll go. You’ll be home in no time.”
I lay back and closed my eyes. Miles would sort it. That’s what big brothers were for. I’d thought it was what boyfriends were for, but apparently, I’d been mistaken about that. Perhaps I needed a boyfriend who thought my health came before his job. A person like that had to exist, surely?
Roan Parrish lives in Philadelphia, where she is gradually attempting to write love stories in every genre.
When not writing, she can usually be found cutting her friends’ hair, meandering through whatever city she’s in while listening to torch songs and melodic death metal, or cooking overly elaborate meals. She loves bonfires, winter beaches, minor chord harmonies, and self-tattooing. One time she may or may not have baked a six-layer chocolate cake and then thrown it out the window in a fit of pique.
Ever since she was a little girl, Aimee Nicole Walker entertained herself with stories that popped into her head. Now she gets paid to tell those stories to other people. She wears many titles—wife, mom, and animal lover are just a few of them. Her absolute favorite title is champion of the happily ever after. Love inspires everything she does, music keeps her sane, and coffee is the magic elixir that fuels her day.
I love all kinds of MM romance and gay fiction, but I especially like contemporary stories. Born and raised in London, the city is part of my DNA so I like to set many of my stories in and around present-day London, providing the perfect, metropolitan backdrop to the main action. I write at home, in the gym, in cafés —in fact I write any place I can find a good coffee!
Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. She has served multiple board positions for different RWA chapters, including President of the Rainbow Romance Writers in 2017. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. An avid reader, she also loves gardening, cooking, music, and dancing. Often she can be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.
H.L Day grew up in the North of England. As a child she was an avid reader, spending lots of time at the local library or escaping into the imaginary worlds created by the books she read. Her grandmother first introduced her to the genre of romance novels, as a teenager, and all the steamy sex they entailed. Naughty Grandma! Romance novels were forgotten for a while when real life got in the way: university, clubbing, work, moving to London, and more work.
When life settled down (slightly) H.L Day stumbled upon the world of m/m romance. She remained content to read other people’s books for a while, before deciding to give it a go herself.
Now, she’s a teacher by day and a writer by night. Actually, that’s not quite true—she’s a teacher by day, procrastinates about writing at night and writes in the school holidays, when she’s not continuing to procrastinate. After all, there’s books to read, places to go, people to see, the gym to visit, films to watch. So many things to do—so few hours to do it in. Every now and again, she musters enough self-discipline to actually get some words onto paper—sometimes they even make sense and are in the right order.
Roan Parrish
Aimee Nicole Walker
Ali Ryecart
EMAIL: aliryecart@ryecartauthor
Deanna Wadsworth
The Lights on Knockbridge Lane by Roan Parrish
KOBO / AUDIBLE / iTUNES / iTUNES AUDIO
A Dye Hard Holiday by Aimee Nicole Walker
His Perfect Christmas Gift by Ali Ryecart
The Boyfriend Cruise by Deanna Wadsworth
Not So Silent Night by HL Day
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