Summary:
With help from a Christmas miracle, two bruised hearts find joy again.
Greg Cabot is the third generation to run Cabot’s Christmas Wonderland and tree farm in rural Vermont. But this year will be his last. Since the death of his son, Sam, in Afghanistan, Greg no longer has the heart to run a business based on holiday cheer. When he picks up a hitchhiking soldier on a snowy night, he finds the help he needs to get his farm through the holidays—and maybe much more.
Sergeant Robbie Sparks doesn’t have much to be thankful for this holiday season. Badly wounded in Afghanistan, he’s spent most of the past year in recovery and was discharged after ten years of service. When fate lands him at Cabot’s tree farm, he feels like he’s fallen into a snow globe reality. Friendly people, gorgeous trees, lots of Christmas kitsch… and Greg Cabot.
Greg believes he’s too heartbroken for romance, but those we love never truly leave us. A little nudge from heaven may help build a bridge for these two men trying to heal. If only they are willing to take that first step.
This stand-alone, long novella is a small town, Christmas cornucopia, May-December, hurt/comfort , military romance stuffed full of family and holiday feels.
Summary:
Crush #5
A transatlantic MM romance with low angst, major decision-making needed and a love of family.
Will the width of the Atlantic wash away the potential for love?
Colton is striving to make his business flourish. With no family left in New York to support him, he has to rely on himself and his best friends to live a full life. It doesn’t stop him from saving every dime to visit his mother in the UK at Christmas. What he doesn’t expect is to find a man who lights up his life like a Christmas tree.
Ioan loves Christmas and spending the holiday helping the residents of the nursing home to enjoy themselves is amazing. But he feels like he’s missing something. When a resident’s son arrives for his annual visit, Ioan can’t help but notice. Looking is all he’ll do, though. He’s learned his lesson about long-distance relationships, and he won’t go there again.
Are they willing to give a transatlantic relationship a try, or is it doomed to fail?
Summary:
Dearest Milton James #1.5
Julian Pollard never believed in love at first sight. That was until he met Malachi Keogh. Well, maybe it wasn’t love at first sight, but it sure was something.
Julian had forgotten how to live, how to be happy, and Malachi changed all that. Now together for four years, Julian wants to give Malachi a Christmas he’ll never forget.
The only problem is, Christmas at a mail distribution centre is the busiest time of the year. It just might take the whole team to make it happen.
Summary:
A Friends to Lovers Shifter Mpreg.
Barnabi is an alpha deer shifter who loves his best friend Fowler more than anything else in this world.
Fowler is an omega skunk shifter who just wants to spend the rest of his life with his best friend Barnabi, and he'll take it any way he can get it.
Every year they spend the week around Christmas bundled up at home, eating soup, drinking hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies, not leaving for anything and just living the Christmas dream. Getting snowed in shouldn't make much of a difference, right? That won't change anything... Will it?
This story was originally part of a charity anthology Love in Springtime released in 2020. It has since been revised to add 6K words, plenty of Christmas goodness, slick, knots and Mpreg!
Home for the Holidays #3
Opposites attract as frosty business partners become fake boyfriends in this Christmas gay romance!
Playing fake boyfriends starts their sleigh ride into love!
After an emergency forces Ashton Sellers from his apartment, all he wants for Christmas is new lipgloss, zero contact from his abusive family, and a place to stay for the holidays. Cue his business partner begrudgingly taking him in.
Walker’s a fuddy-duddy with no sense of fun, but he does have a safe, warm home with four adorable dogs and delicious food on the table.
If it turns out Walker’s also a secret softy with a tender side and a hot body beneath his endless parade of golf shirts? Great, good, cool. And if Walker wants Ashton to pretend to be his boyfriend for his sister’s Christmas-themed wedding? Awesome, amazing.
Could Walker be the safe haven Ashton missed out on as a child? Could they be falling in love for real?
But when Ashton uncovers a painful mistake in Walker’s past, it hits too close to home. As the jingle bells quiet and the snow settles, will Ashton be able to forgive Walker, or will their relationship be over before it ever truly begins?
Mr. Jingle Bells is a gay Christmas story by Leta Blake featuring forced proximity, opposites attract, fake dating, office romance, steamy scenes, and a taffy-sweet happy ending. It's set in the Home for the Holidays universe, which began with Mr. Frosty Pants, but can be read as a standalone.
Content warnings for childhood abuse, past addiction issues, PTSD episodes, and gambling.
The Best Gift by Eli Easton
CHAPTER 1
December 1, 2017
Greg
“Oh Come All Ye Faithful,” the one with the glorious trumpets, was playing over the PA system when I looked around for the next customer. There wasn't one. I couldn't believe it at first, walking from the baler, where I netted Christmas trees, down a row of Scotch pine, Douglas fir, and Norway spruce, and back around to the central clearing and the Cabot's Christmas Wonderland store. But the crowds had cleared out. Only a few customers lingered among the rows.
Something wet landed on my cheek. They were numb from being outdoors all day, but I felt the damp. I glanced up. Fat flakes floated down from the late afternoon sky like a million tiny parachutes.
I smiled at the sight and, for just a moment, indulged myself, continuing to stare up at the leaden pink sky and the descending slow-motion avalanche.
"It wasn't supposed to snow."
I looked down to see Tori standing next to me, hands on her hips, face tilted up. Her shiny black hair, which fell straight to her shoulders, collected snowflakes like the fur of a black cat. Her short, plump figure was clad in a black puffer coat and, over it, a red and green Cabot's apron.
"Sure wasn't in the forecast," I agreed.
"And this ain't no light stuff. These goose feathers'll pile up fast."
"Yup." A thought occurred to me. "Damn it. I was gonna make a trip to the bank today."
"Well you'd best go and do it before the roads get bad."
"I can't leave you and Roscoe and Lucy here alone. What if there's another rush?"
Tori gave me a look. "It's a Friday, and it's only December first. No one's desperate enough to come out in this weather. It's already cleared out, in case you haven't noticed."
I looked around again. She was right. The parking lot only had a few cars in it. How long had it been snowing, and I'd not even noticed? I glanced down. The ground under my feet had a good inch already.
Since Sam's death, last February, I lost things sometimes. Long minutes. Whole hours. I'd been netting trees and carrying them out to cars on autopilot for God knew how long. A wave of guilt swamped me. Had I even said two words to my customers? They didn't come all the way to Cabot's, home of holiday cheer, to be served by a morose robot.
Tori laid a hand on my arm and spoke gently. "Do the bank run, boss. Me and Roscoe and Lucy'll be fine."
"Okay," I said, because my chest was tight, and I suddenly wanted to get out of there so I could breathe. But the thing about escaping was, I always had to come back. All roads led to Cabot's for me. At least for now. "Hey, if it's still snowing like this by the time I get back, we'll close early so you guys can get home."
"Sure, boss. I'll start tidying up."
I went into the store. There were only two customers browsing the ornaments, lights, wreaths, and other assorted Christmas paraphernalia. I greeted Roscoe, a good man in his 40s who’d worked for Cabot’s for twenty years. His sweet smile and eagerness to please more than made up for his intellectual disability. He ran the till in the store every day we were open and loved to tell customers about the different ornaments we carried.
"Did you see it's snowing, Greg?" Roscoe asked me, looking between me and windows at the front of the store.
"I sure did. Heavy too. I'm gonna run to the bank, and then maybe we'll close early."
"'Cause the roads get bad when it snows a lot. And it's not good to drive on 'em."
"That's right. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Okay! Watch out for the snow."
"You know to call me if you need any help, right?" I reminded him.
"Your number is in my phone. But you shouldn't talk on the phone when you're driving, Greg."
I gave Roscoe a little smile. "I promise I'll pull over. Just let me know if you run into any problems."
I knew they wouldn't. Tori and Roscoe were both as dependable as the sunrise in Vermont, the leaves in the fall, or the snow in the wintertime. But, like my father and grandfather before me, it was in my nature to worry about Cabot's. Though soon, it wouldn't be any longer.
The thought sent icy prickles through my blood as I took off my Cabot's apron and hung it up in the employee's kitchen, grabbed the past few days receipts from the small office safe, then left through the side door.
Fresh snow, marred only by my boots, was already thick on the long sidewalk that went around a stand of American Holly to the house, and on the cement steps to the side entry. The way was so familiar—trodden a million times in the course of my forty-three years—that I knew every crack and bump even when it was buried in white.
Inside the house, I turned up the heat. It would be nice to come back to a warm house. I thought about changing from my sheepskin-lined wool work coat, which was always dotted with pine needles and tree sap, but decided against it. I didn't care how I looked, hadn't bothered to cut my shoulder-length dark hair in over a year, and the beard I'd let grow rampant was more about depression than fashion. I just brushed sawdust off my jeans in the mud room and stomped snow off my boots as best I could. Then I went through the kitchen, grabbing my keys, and down the hall to the front door.
I opened it and froze. On the braided doormat, safe under the porch overhang, was a package. The postman must have dropped it off, but I couldn't think of anything I'd ordered. I bent to pick it up, then sucked in a sharp breath. The package was the size of a large book, wrapped in plain brown paper. My name and address was written on the front in a familiar hand.
The pain struck so hard I bent all the way over and laid a hand on the porch floor to keep from falling. I squeezed my eyes shut and took deep breaths. I was still learning the contours of this grief for Sam. I'd grieved when my grandparents died, and then my parents. But the grief of losing my only child was a monstrous thing. Even ten months on, it lurked like a malevolent bird, never far away, and swooped in to tear into my guts or heart when I least expected it.
Pull it together. Sam wouldn't want this.
A low moan sounded from somewhere, probably me, and I steeled myself. I opened my eyes and picked up the package. It was from Sam. Why had it taken so long to arrive? But mail was strange, especially when it involved the military. Maybe it had gotten lost. Maybe Sam had addressed it, and it had been mislaid and never mailed until someone found it recently and sent it. Anything was possible.
Well, that wasn't true. One thing wasn't possible and that was for me to open it. Not now. Not yet.
I went back into the house, holding the package like it was a precious glass figurine with sharp edges. I put it on top of my desk in the study. And then, not happy with that, into a bottom drawer.
I left the house again, this time making it to my Ford pickup truck and down the driveway. I glanced over at the big Cabot's parking lot, driving slow, but there were even fewer cars now and no sign of anyone on the country road. Tori and Roscoe would be fine. I turned left.
I drove toward town. The goose-feather flakes—that's what locals called the enchanting fat, fluffy kind—were turning into a squall. Already the median on the road was mounded and my snow tires gripped on packed white. The plow'd be out soon, hopefully before I had to turn around and drive home.
My 10 mph speed gave me plenty of time to get a good look at the hitchhiker on the side of the road as I approached. It was a man in uniform—a green fatigue coat and camo pants. He had a hoodie on under his coat and the gray hood was pulled up. A military green duffel bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was limping. He turned to face the truck when he heard it, sticking out his thumb.
I almost drove past, but I couldn't make myself do it. Images of Sam tightened my throat, and that evil damned bird pecked at my heart. This wasn't Sam—wasn't a ghost. Even in the fading daylight and thick snow, I could see this soldier was taller, stockier. Blue eyes stared up from where his bearded chin was tucked low against the cold, not Sam's hazel ones. I didn't know this man.
I slowed the truck and stopped. A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed there was no one behind me. I rolled down the passenger window. "Where ya headed? Bad time to be out in it."
The man's chin came out of his collar and he offered a terse smile. He was handsome, with a straight nose, full lips, and a short, rough beard. He was also older than Sam.
Stop thinking about Sam.
"A-yup. Snow snuck up on me." The man's voice was deep. Sounded like a Northeast accent too.
"Wasn't in the forecast," I remarked.
"Nossir. To answer your question, I was hoping to make it to Concorde tonight."
"Won't be much traffic now. To get a ride from, I mean." Boy, I was just killing it with the stating the obvious.
The man grimaced. "Just what I was thinking. Is there a motel near here?"
Snow was coming in through the window and now lights appeared in the rearview mirror. This was no place for a conversation. "Hop in."
"Oh, um, thanks. Thanks a lot." The man opened the door and swung his bag over the passenger seat to the storage area, then got in.
I took my foot off the brake and inched on to keep ahead of the approaching vehicle. It was a plow. Good. I glanced at my passenger. "Nearest hotel is in Wilmington. It'd take an hour to drive that in this snow, much less walk it."
"Oh." The man's face fell. He rubbed his cheek, which was red from cold. Freckles on his nose gave a boyish touch to an otherwise mature face. "Um. There's nothing nearby? A BnB or… I don't know…" He smiled. "jail? Maybe they'd put me up 'til dawn."
My gut sank. But I knew what I had to do, as inconvenient and unpleasant as it might be. "I have a big place, lots of empty bedrooms. You're welcome to a bed for the night if you want. And thank you for your service."
Thank you for your service. Those words turned into cotton and clogged my throat. I sat up straighter and shook my head. I was stronger than this. This man needed help, and it was no big burden for me. Sam would want me to help. Hell, I'd want some kind stranger to help Sam if he were in this pickle.
I felt the man watching me as I drove. "All right. If you're sure it's no trouble. I'm happy to pay for the room."
I nodded. The stranger relaxed and rubbed his hands in front of the heating vent. "I sure thank you. Lucky you came by. I was starting to wonder what flavor of Popsicle I'd be."
I grunted. The soldier was damned lucky. Halifax, Vermont was literally in the middle of nowhere. In this weather, no tourists'd be passing through, and the locals were too smart to drive. Well, except for me.
"My name's Robert," the soldier said. "But most people call me Robbie."
"I'm Greg."
"Well thanks again, Greg. Real nice of you to offer a room to a stranger."
I glanced over to see Robbie smile. It was a weary smile, a sad smile, but real as the soil and the sun. Robbie's gaze went to my beard, and something sparked in my belly that I hadn't felt in a very long time. I looked back at the road and told myself sternly to knock it off. Robbie was probably thinking that I looked like a mountain hermit with my over-exuberant facial growth. It wasn’t neatly trimmed like his. And why I should feel that again, especially now, I had no idea. Apparently I wasn't as dead inside as I'd thought.
I cleared my throat. "I was on my way into town to, er, run an errand. And then we'll go back to mine." I wasn't going to mention money or a deposit. Not that I thought Robbie would steal from me, but still. I did have a lot of cash on me.
"Sure. No problem. Thanks again."
I made it to the bank and ran in with the envelope. I made the deposit, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into, picking up a hitchhiker and offering him a bed for the night. But when I got back into the truck and caught Robbie rubbing his head through his wool cap, then covering that gesture of pain and weariness with a smile, I relaxed. It would be fine. It was only one night. And if this wasn't a decent man, well then, I'd lost all ability to read people. And I didn't believe I had.
We didn't talk as I drove home. The road required all of my focus, and Robbie went quiet. As we approached the farm, the lights around the tree lot winked in and out through the snow. The big sign "CABOT'S CHRISTMAS WONDERLAND" was illuminated by spotlights from below. It felt good to be approaching home in this weather, and I sighed.
Robbie stiffened and sat up straighter. I glanced at him. "Something wrong?"
Robbie blinked, looking out at the tree lot. "This… this is where you live?"
"Yup. Third generation."
Robbie chuckled softly and shook his head.
"What?" I attempted a joke. "I promise, we only cut trees around here."
"No," said Robbie, smiling tightly. "Just thinking life is funny is all."
He didn't offer an explanation, and I didn't ask. Because, yeah, life was pretty damn funny. If that was the word for it. I drove on up to the house.
A Crush for Christmas by Elouise East
Chapter 1
2017
Colton
“Which are you gonna pick, Dani?”
Jimmy’s low, Southern drawl vibrated through Colton Jenkins’s body as packed together as they were in the heaving bar. He rolled his eyes at their juvenile game but waited for her answer, nonetheless.
“I’m looking at those two. I’m calling them ‘Suit’ and ‘Red.’” Dani chuckled as she pointed her finger towards the bar at a tall, muscular guy wearing a suit that appeared to be moulded to his body, and then to a slightly smaller, less muscly man about ten feet away from them. The smaller one wore a dark red shirt, but that was all Colton could see.
“No way!” Jimmy answered. “There’s no way on God’s green earth they will be up for a threesome.”
Dani turned her face to Jimmy, eyebrow raised. “And why the hell not?”
Jimmy glanced back over at the guys, and his forehead creased as he shook his head. “I just don’t see it.”
She twisted to Colton. “What do you think?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m staying out of it.”
“Colton!” Dani whined. When all he did was stare at her, she huffed and turned back to Jimmy. “What about you?”
“Easy,” Jimmy said with a grin. “Those two.” He lifted his chin to indicate the table right in front of them where two women sat, staring at Jimmy while holding their straws to their mouths.
“Fuck, Jimmy. That’s cheating.”
“What did I do?”
Their squabbling continued, but Colton tuned it out. Every night out was the same, although the results differed. They chose two people—guys for Dani, any gender for Jimmy—to see if they could persuade them to have a threesome. Colton would give them some points for being completely up front with the people involved—not about the game but about it being just one night, not a long-term investment.
Dani had been hurt before by asshole boyfriends and was a lot more cautious now. She shied away from any kind of relationship that lasted longer than a night, and thankfully, in some ways, New York had plenty of people to choose from.
Jimmy, on the other hand, was in love with his boss. Head over heels, completely, totally besotted. He’d been hired by a company as a personal assistant to one of the managers and had been working there for three years before the manager left, leaving Vanessa in their stead. Jimmy had fallen hard but refused to say a word, not wanting to lose his job, understandably. Due to that, he played hard when he wasn’t working. Colton wished Jimmy would take a chance one day and explain to Vanessa exactly what he was feeling. Jimmy would be pleasantly surprised if Colton’s gut instinct was any indication. He’d only seen her a few times, but she seemed genuine enough.
As for him, he wanted it all—love, marriage, kids, the whole shebang. He hadn’t been able to find anyone that made his heart leap, though. His instinct was surprisingly quiet when it came to his own love life.
He lifted his beer and swallowed some of the lukewarm liquid, grimacing as he gazed around the dimly lit room. Beer should only be ice cold, in his opinion. Colton scratched at the scruff on his jaw, knowing it needed to be trimmed soon. When it grew longer than three days’ worth, it began to look unkempt. He didn’t worry as much when he was working the stalls in the winter because it kept him warmer as he stood selling his stock to tourists and locals alike in the freezing temperatures of New York City. Luckily, he also had decent clothes to keep the chill from invading his bones.
Union Square Holiday Market had been a good choice again so far. Although he always had to finish earlier than when it ended on Christmas Eve, he didn’t mind at all. Seeing his mother was more important, even if she was over three thousand miles away from him at the moment.
“What do you think?”
Colton tuned back in to the conversation, staring blankly at Jimmy. “What?” He glanced back and forth between his two best friends, mentally acknowledging that if Jimmy hadn’t been in love with Vanessa, he and Dani would make a really good couple.
Jimmy sighed and pursed his lips. “Weren’t you listening?”
“Nope.” Colton didn’t see the point in denying it.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Colton raised his eyebrows. “What about your conquests?”
Dani shook her head. “I can’t be bothered tonight, to be honest.” She drained her glass of wine before reaching forward to place it on the bar between two patrons who were standing there. Dragging her coat on, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Patience had never been one of her virtues.
Snorting, Colton excused himself to a woman as he put his unfinished beer down next to her, then offered his elbow to Dani. “Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he said with a grin. “Come on, bucko,” he added, peering over his shoulder at Jimmy, whose face had fallen as he stared at the two women from earlier.
“Fine.” Jimmy’s petulant tone had Colton sniggering as he guided Dani through the rowdy throng to the exit.
Dani shuddered, as did he when the cold bite of the wind invaded the gaps in his clothing, sending goosebumps along Colton’s skin. He buttoned his coat, turning his collar up against the frigid air and wrapped his arm around Dani as they walked to the subway.
They had met at that bar because it was close to the market. He hadn’t had any plans to find a hookup, so hadn’t changed before meeting them. Although his clothes were good, they didn’t keep all the cold out. Dani would be frozen if they didn’t get her home quickly. As per their routine, all three trudged to the train before Colton waved goodbye to them both and made his own way home.
Finally arriving at the place he called his, Colton dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter and sighed. He loved his little one-bed apartment, but he’d always hoped for more. Since his father had died ten years ago, he’d been alone in New York. His mother had decided, not long after, she couldn’t stand being in the busy city a moment longer, despite being a New Yorker born and bred, and had emigrated across the Atlantic to the UK where his dad’s family lived. Colton didn’t blame her. There was nothing in the Big Apple for her, except him. All of his mother’s family had passed years before, so there was nothing holding her there any longer.
Colton refused to give up his home. He wanted to make things work in the city where his parents had chosen to raise him. Times were hard, and many a night, he’d eaten noodles or such like to make sure he could afford the rent that month. He was pleased to note, he had never missed a payment. Things were difficult, though, and something needed to change if he wanted to continue doing what he loved.
Glancing over at the small pile of wood in front of his window, he smiled. It wasn’t much but being able to afford decent wood to create the trinkets and gifts he sold was pleasing. He spent much of his free time working with the wood to make keychains, pens, toys, decorations, small boxes, candle holders and much more. His market stall was his pride and joy, all the stock being handmade by him.
Colton’s smile faded a little as he thought about the need for more income. Rent was rising, as always, and he needed to figure out what he was going to do.
After sending a text to Dani and Jimmy telling them he was home, he warmed up his noodles and sat on the lone sofa, thinking about his upcoming trip. Every year since she’d moved, Colton visited his mother in the UK at Christmas. It wasn’t just because it was Christmas, but also because her birthday was the day after. Unfortunately, due to costs, Colton could only stay for a week. He hated leaving her each time, but she was happy, and he couldn’t wish for more.
The previous year, she had moved into a nursing home. She was only sixty-five, but she had insisted, in one of her lucid moments, that everyone stop worrying over her and let her stay somewhere she would not be a burden. The whole family had rallied at that, but she had put her foot down, and that had been it. Colton had not been there to see the move, but last Christmas, he had visited the nursing home and been overwhelmed by how nice it and all the staff were.
They had welcomed him as if they knew him, and when he’d asked, they’d explained his mother had been talking about him non-stop, so it felt like they had met him already.
It had been difficult to see her there, but Colton knew it had been the best decision. His mother had lupus—or systemic lupus erythematosus—which basically meant her immune system attacked the healthy parts of her body by mistake. It caused inflammation to her joints, rashes and a whole dictionary full of different symptoms that made her life difficult. It wasn’t called the ‘disease of a thousand faces’ for nothing.
The worst thing for Colton was the memory issues. Whenever his mother had a flare-up, her memory was one of the first things to show it. She would stare at an object or person, uncomprehending who or what it was. She would forget how to do the simplest of tasks, like how to flush the toilet or how to switch on the TV. It broke his heart to see her that way, especially when there was no cure.
Shaking his head, he thrust away his maudlin thoughts and focused on what he needed to do before he flew to be with her. He had just over a month before his flight, and there was something special he wanted to make her.
****
With Jimmy and Dani’s help, he packed up his stall at the end of his season and made sure everything fit into the little van he’d hired for the evening. It was an expense he hated paying out for but a necessary one because there was no way he’d be able to cart everything to his apartment. He knew from experience. The first year, he’d used a large trolley to pull his stock to and from his apartment. Never again.
After they unloaded the boxes and trudged them all the way up to the second floor, they collapsed, gasping for breath.
“Jesus, Colton. You have to get a ground floor apartment. This shit is a killer,” Jimmy stated as he lay spread eagle on the floor.
Colton leaned against the wall, legs spread as he recovered. Jimmy was right, but he had no choice. At least, it kept him fit without the need for a gym membership.
“It’s takeout night,” Dani declared. “My treat.”
“You don’t need—”
“Shut up,” she said without heat. “You’re not here for Christmas, so this will be our Christmas meal.” She didn’t move from her position of resting her head on Jimmy’s stomach as she dialled for Chinese.
Colton felt bad that he couldn’t help out with the cost of the takeaway, but all his money had been sunk into the flight and hotel. He wished he’d been able to stay at his uncle’s place; however, they had a three-bedroom house with all the bedrooms full of kids. When he’d visited last year, he had used some extra money to reserve a room at a small hotel chain. Luckily, it was closer to his mother’s nursing home than his uncle’s house.
As they ate chicken chow mein, duck pancakes and beef satay, they talked about what Jimmy’s and Dani’s plans were, then decided what the three of them were doing for New Year’s Eve. Dani had insisted on the ritual of New Year because Colton wasn’t with them for Christmas, and he hadn’t had the heart to tell her he hated the celebration.
“I’m heading home.” Dani lifted herself from the floor with a groan. “My muscles are never going to forgive you, Geppetto.”
Colton snorted at the nickname Dani called him on occasion, usually when she was hurling insults. Problem was, he didn’t mind being thrown in with the man who had made a wooden boy.
“You’ll survive, Dee,” he retorted with his own nickname, knowing she hated the shortened version.
“Fuck you.” She saluted him with her middle finger before hauling him in for a hug. “Take care and say hello to your mom for me.” Dani kissed him on the cheek and pulled away.
“Well, another year, another flight. Are you ever going to move over there?”
It was a question Jimmy asked every year, and every year, Colton’s answer was the same, “My home is here.”
Jimmy nodded slowly, then dragged him closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Gonna miss you, Colt.”
Colton swallowed hard. He knew what Jimmy meant. It was just as difficult for him not to be with part of his family—as he thought of Jimmy and Dani—as it was for them, even though they had blood family to celebrate with.
“Safe flight.”
Locking the door behind them, Colton rested his forehead against the painted wood and closed his eyes. His emotions were all mixed up between joy that he’d see his mother and sadness that he wouldn’t see Jimmy and Dani. But he only saw his mother once a year, so his friends would have to wait.
He threw himself into finishing his packing, setting his alarm for his god-awful early flight, and crashed.
****
By the time he had arrived at the hotel in Cambridge, he was exhausted. He dragged his two suitcases into the room and let it slam behind him, wincing and silently apologising to anyone who was asleep, despite it being early evening in the UK. He dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d dragged himself out of bed at two-thirty that morning to catch his 6 a.m. flight and was glad for it because it meant his jet lag wouldn’t, hopefully, be as bad as normal.
With the UK being five hours ahead of New York, Colton had basically lost a day due to travelling. But he was determined to make sure his tiredness didn’t interfere with seeing his mother. At that thought, he picked himself up and headed for a shower.
Dearest Malachi Keogh by NR Walker
Chapter One
I didn’t believe in love at first sight. I thought it was a preposterous notion for fools and people who didn’t know any better. How could anyone have something shift inside them the second they meet someone?
Well, I’ll tell you.
After years of heartbreak and loneliness, of closing myself off from the world around me, a bright ray of sunshine with a streak of blue in his hair that matched his neon boots, walked into my office and changed my life.
I didn’t know how important he would become to me in that moment, but I knew he was . . . something.
He sure was something.
I tried to distance myself. I tried to tell myself he could never want someone like me, that it was foolish to think he would. Not to mention the whole work complication . . .
But my heart wouldn’t be swayed.
We just had this instantaneous connection. Something I’d never experienced before. I stopped trying to fight it, and it turned into the best thing to ever happen to me.
Malachi fit into my life in every way.
He fit in my life like a piece I didn’t even know was missing—with my family, with my friends, with me.
He didn’t just fit in with everyone at work either. He joined our little eclectic patchwork of people and somehow made us better. We’d always been a friendly unit, but in the last four years, owing to Malachi’s insistence, we became more of a team.
He just brightened up every room he walked into.
A knock at my office door snapped my attention. Cherry poked her head in. “You wanted to see me?”
Oh, shoot.
I’d been daydreaming again. Daydreaming about Malachi again.
“Yes, please come in. I know you’re run off your feet. Is, ah . . .” I made a face. “Is Malachi still busy?”
She came in and sat in one of the two chairs opposite me at my desk. “Uh, yeah. You do know he’s putting up more Christmas decorations?”
“Yeah, he asked me. I said it was fine.”
“He’s up a ladder draping tinsel and baubles from every surface. I think it’s going to be worse than last year.”
“He buys all the decorations really cheap after Christmas every year,” I explained. “So there is more this year, so it is technically worse. And . . .” I cleared my throat. “My mother gave him all that stuff he’s putting up today. I tried to stop them, but when they get together . . . I’d have more luck stopping the sun rise, to be frank. Honestly, I’d rather all the decorations be here than at home.” Although he’d outdone himself there as well.
“It looks like Santa’s Workshop exploded out there. And there were no survivors.”
I smiled. “I’m sure it does.”
“And Malachi told Paul he has a sexy elf costume for him to wear. What even is a sexy elf costume?”
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“Personally, I think Paul would be better suited as a reindeer, and the sexy elf should be left to Malachi.”
I smiled. “Please do not suggest that.”
Although, the mental imagery of him wearing something like that wasn’t exactly unpleasant.
“I think Denise already did, so . . .” Cherry shrugged. “Too late.” Then she paused for a second. “Um, you wanted to see me?”
“Yes! Yes, I do. It’s a personal thing.”
She looked horrified. “If it involves him wearing a sexy elf costume—”
“No, not that personal,” I amended quickly. “It’s not like that, it’s just not exactly work-related.”
Cherry frowned. “Oh, okay.”
“And you can’t tell Malachi about it.”
She eyed me cautiously. “He’s like a little ferret, you know that, right? Cute as hell, but sneaky too, and if he gets a sniff of something suspicious, he won’t stop until he finds it.”
I grinned at her. “Yes, I know. But it’s his Christmas present.”
“Oh.”
“I need help making it happen.”
She stared at me. “How?”
I felt stupidly giddy. Nervous and slightly nauseous. Taking a deep breath, I opened my top desk drawer, pulled out an envelope, and carefully placed it on the desk between us.
There was no address, no stamp. Just a name.
Dearest Malachi Keogh
“I’m going to ask him to marry me.”
So Stinkin' Deer by JD Light
Prologue
Barnabi
I was so nervous that first day of Pre-K. I was starting almost seven months behind everyone else due to having been put on a wait list, and I was an only child who'd spent my days in the company of my grandparents, who babysat me while my mother and father worked. Since both of my parents had been older when they had me, and I'd basically been what my grandma considered a miracle baby, I didn't have siblings, and my parents weren't friends with people who had kids my age. The only kids I ever spent any length of time with had been teenagers at the youngest, and though some of them had been pretty nice to me, they weren't really into the same things I was.
It wasn't even a surprise that I'd ended up on the playground after our snack, playing by myself in the very corner of the fenced-in lot, building the big blocks up as high as I could. I didn't even really mind, since I wasn't sure how to communicate with any of the other children anyway, and at least I didn't have anything to be nervous about while I was alone.
I was, however, surprised when a little skunk-shifter boy with skin the same color as a chocolate bar plopped down next to me, tilting his head one way and then another as he watched me build, his big green eyes wide and absolutely fascinated.
He wasn't like anyone else there. He was smaller by far and though his skin was that pretty brown almost everywhere, there was a spot that went from one cheek up, over that eye and even a little ways back into his hairline that was as pale as my skin, the hair a white so light, it looked like the snow I'd gotten to play in a month earlier before I'd run through it. Even his eyelashes and eyebrow on that side were the lightest color I'd ever seen hair be. I'd never seen anything like it in my life, and I couldn't seem to stop looking at him. I was completely awed by the beauty of the boy, and my stomach felt funny, but not sick like when I'd had that stomach flu back in the fall and threw up for an entire day.
"Wow," I said, unable to keep from smiling as I moved a bit closer. "You're pretty."
Not just pretty. He was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. Even though I hadn't hung out with kids my age, I'd seen them, and I'd never seen any of them that looked like this one.
He smiled, his pretty green eyes looking happy, and a deep dimple popping up on the same side as his light patch.
"You can't call him pretty," a voice said from my right, and the pretty boy and I both turned to find a rabbit-shifter boy rocking hard against the fence, throwing his back into the chain link and bouncing back like a strange trampoline for his back. "He's a boy. Boys don't like to be called pretty."
I could imagine that he probably didn't. He was covered in grass stains with leaves and sticks poking out of his light grey-brown hair, his brown eyes narrowed slightly, while he looked at me like I didn't know a thing about life, and I blinked, worry suddenly making my stomach feel funny in a completely different way as I turned to look at the pretty boy I'd possibly just insulted.
Thankfully, he didn't seem to be bothered as he glanced over at the grass-stained kid, before blinking back over at me. "He can call me pretty… if he wants to! I don't mind."
I smiled back, while the other kid shrugged and continued his bouncing against the fence, clearly unconcerned.
"I'm Barnabi," I said, smiling at my two new friends.
"A deer shifter, right?" The bouncing bunny asked, pursing his lips. When I nodded, so did he. "I'm Thunder, and that's Fowler."
Fowler smiled at me when I looked at him again, his eyes big and bright, and my stomach did that funny flipping thing again.
∞∞∞
Eight years later.
Fowler and I cringed as Thunder crumpled against the ground in a way that looked incredibly painful, while the little girl he'd been trying to impress gasped and went running over to him, cooing at the twelve-year-old idiot.
"Why does he do stuff like that?" Fowler asked, his beautiful face crinkled up in the same look of disbelief as mine, and I shook my head.
"My mom said male bunny shifters are just like that. Always trying to show off for girls and nearly getting themselves killed."
Personally, I didn't understand it at all. I liked girls just fine. There were even some that I would call friends, even though I really only ever hung out with Fowler and Thunder, but I'd never once thought I should ride a bike off of a picnic table to show off for one. Of course, Thunder had actually jumped off of my roof onto the trampoline not too long ago, because he knew Annie, my next-door neighbor had been watching, so this latest stunt wasn't even really a surprise.
There was a long pause where we watched the girl fawn over Thunder, and I felt Fowler start to tense up where he was leaning into my side as we sat against the tree on the edge of the park.
I didn't like when my Fowler got worried. He was such a happy, sweet boy, and he should never have to worry about anything in his life, ever. I put my arm around his shoulders like I always did, pulling him further into my side, so he'd know I was there for him, ready to help with whatever he needed.
"Hey, B," Fowler whispered quietly, as he watched Thunder pretend he was more hurt than he actually was, so the little girl would keep paying attention to him. "I don't think I like girls like Thunder does." He looked over at me, a frown on his beautiful face. "Do you think something's wrong with me?"
"No way!" I said quickly. "You're perfect, Fowl." And I meant it. I'd never met anyone as amazing as him, beautiful both inside and out, and the one person I considered mine even if I didn't understand why. "I don't like girls like that either."
Mr. Jingle Bells by Leta Blake
“Sorry to interrupt,” Nicole said, poking her head into Walker’s office with a small smile. “But, uh, have you seen Ashton’s Facebook post?”
“No?”
“It’s just… Typical Ashton, you know,” Nicole said with a fond grimace as she entered and closed the door behind her. “But maybe this time it’s a little too much?”
“Ashton? Going too far? Who’d have thunk?” Walker had told Casey before they’d created SRS that Ashton was as much of a branding liability as an asset, but Casey had just given him a penetrating look implying he knew far too well what Walker’s hang-ups were about Ashton—and Walker had decided not to say anything additionally incriminating.
“Here, just have a look,” Nicole said, passing Walker her phone. “I mean, I get that Ashton’s a jokester, and I understand he’s out and proud. That’s fine. That’s what we’re all about. Refreshing honesty, etc. But some things do reflect back on our company, and I don’t know about this post. It’s likely to upset some clients, don’t you think?”
Walker decided to reserve comment until he’d read it for himself. He skimmed it once and then, blinking away his disbelief, he read it more closely. Why he was surprised, he didn’t even know. Everything about the long-winded post was one hundred percent pure Ashton.
Ho ho! Merry Christmas! Ashton here! As you know, I blew up my homophobic fam three years ago by bringing a muscled, shirtless, Grindr hookup as my date to the family Christmas party. Getting disowned was never so easy! A+ experience! Do recommend!
This year, in an effort to spread the holiday joy, I’m making a generous offer. For the low price of a place to stay for three days while they fumigate my entire apartment building, I’ll help you turn your seasonal family gathering into a shitshow of epic proportions! If you’ve got homophobic parents, asshole aunts, ugly uncles, and aggressively insensitive cousins, you too can experience the joy of blowing up their holiday!
Hire me as your fake boyfriend and your nosy Aunt Karen won’t ask you when you’re getting married or if you’re ever gonna give your mom some grandkids. She’ll be too busy wondering about why you’re dating a gay man (if you’re a woman), or when you suddenly turned queer (if you’re a man). You’ll be the talk of the family for months to come!
With two years of university theater classes under my belt, I can pretend to love anyone. That’s right! Even you. And I can play it however is most likely to cause your family to implode/explode/breakdown. I can do serious and committed, or casual and slutty. I come in two modes: butch and hyper-masc, or glorious femme-queen covered in glitter. Okay, that was a lie. I only come in femme-queen mode. Just call me Mr. Jingle Bells! And for the right price (I honestly need a place to stay for three nights only! I swear!), I’ll be at your service!
PM for more info!
(No, but seriously, help! The hotels near my office are TOO EXPENSIVE! Who said Knoxville could grow up all fancy like this? What marketing whiz branded these places as super posh? Oh, that was me. Anyway, please. Three nights. Save my wallet.)
Walker read the post again, a small smile fighting its way onto his lips. From a business perspective, it wasn’t really funny. But from a personal one, it was hilarious. Only Ashton would even think to post something like this instead of just asking his friends for a place to stay. His post already had over sixty reactions and twenty responses.
This was the sort of absurdity that Casey said made Ashton special—the kind of unexpected behavior that would draw attention to their firm. But was this really the attention they wanted? The replies were getting more and more ludicrous by the second. Someone had only just now commented asking if Ashton charged extra for platonic blow jobs in his Fake Boyfriend package.
“Thanks for bringing this to my attention,” Walker said, rising from his desk. “I’ll take care of it, Nicole.”
Having been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, and organic farmer, Eli has been a m/m romance author since 2013. She has over 30 books published.
Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, bulldogs, cows, a cat, and lots of groundhogs.
In romance, Eli is best known for her Christmas stories because she’s a total Christmas sap. These include “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, “Unwrapping Hank” and “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miggles”. Her “Howl at the Moon” series of paranormal romances featuring the town of Mad Creek and its dog shifters has been popular with readers. And her series of Amish-themed romances, Men of Lancaster County, has won genre awards.
Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, bulldogs, cows, a cat, and lots of groundhogs.
In romance, Eli is best known for her Christmas stories because she’s a total Christmas sap. These include “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, “Unwrapping Hank” and “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miggles”. Her “Howl at the Moon” series of paranormal romances featuring the town of Mad Creek and its dog shifters has been popular with readers. And her series of Amish-themed romances, Men of Lancaster County, has won genre awards.
I am Elouise East but feel free to call me Elli. I write sweet and steamy connections in gay romance. I also touch on taboo stories under the name Elouise R East.
Books that tell the stories where friendship and family are the focal point - be it blood family or chosen - is very important to me. That’s why I include a variety of personalities, talents, ages, situations and abilities as I believe a story needs, or a character needs. I want my characters to be real, to be relatable, to be free to have whatever views they tell me they have. And trust me, most of the time, I do not have any say in the matter!
My characters come to life on the page for me as well as my readers. Their stories unfold in front of me, and I have very little input into how they want to be shown. Just like real life, the lives of my characters change with every choice, every interaction and every conversation. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I write books that are emotionally realistic, even if liberties are taken with other aspects of my stories. I don’t know any other way to write. It comes from deep inside.
Who am I? A single parent to two children who make life worth living. An avid reader who still devours every book she can get her hands on. A student of learning about any subject that takes her fancy. An author of books she would read herself. And a romantic at heart who loves anything cheesy.
Who’s in?
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.
She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who she gives them life with words.
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love. She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
She’s been writing ever since...
Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake’s educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.
Eli Easton
B&N / GOOGLE PLAY / BOOKBUB
EMAIL: eli@elieaston.com
Elouise East
EMAIL: eloise@eloiseeast.com
NR Walker
AUTHORGRAPH / KOBO / PINTEREST
EMAIL: nrwalker2103@gmail.com
JD Light
Leta Blake
The Best Gift by Eli Easton
A Crush for Christmas by Elouise East
Dearest Malachi Keogh by NR Walker
So Stinkin' Deer by JD Light
Mr. Jingle Bells by Leta Blake
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