Summary:
Naughty in Pendleton
Actor Preston Graves' Kinky Secret Exposed!
Preston Graves is a household name among the TV-watching masses. Handsome, accessible, relatable. But when his not-so-vanilla personal life goes public, he high-tails it back to his home state of Michigan for the holidays—to the man (and Dom) he once loved.
Blake Aldrich tried love, twice. When it didn’t work, he retreated to focus on his pottery. He finds success but he’s never forgotten what he lost. His lover. His submissive. His best friend. Now Preston is back, invoking a childhood pact and dragging a Hollywood-sized mess into Blake’s tidy life.
The lure of a sub in Blake’s woodland retreat tempts him and the lacy surprises under Preston’s clothes are a present he can’t resist unwrapping. The heat between them ignites and their old feelings come rushing back, but Tinstletown is still calling Preston’s name.
Blake will have to choose whether to follow the man he’s always loved, or be left out in the cold.
Preston's Christmas Escape contains predicament bondage, lingerie, paparazzi, and a second chance at love. Although set in the Pendleton Bay world, it can be read as a standalone story.
Summary:
The Assassins' Guild #2.5
Happy Holidays from everyone at T.A.G. Your one-stop shopping source for all your killing needs.
It isn’t all stabbings, poisonings, and shootings here at The Assassins’ Guild. We decided to pause that and take a little time to celebrate being alive, and for some, being in love.
This is your friendly communications agent, Mr. No, here to tell you about the holiday fun Mr. H and his boys got up to this one Christmas.
Once upon a time, there was a Bob. This Bob got tasked with three missions. Not just any old ordinary missions, but missions of love…
Between guarding Connor, being stalked by Enrique, and being his usual sneaky self, Bob must put into motion three big surprises for his chosen family.
But it’s not all snowman contests and catching Mr. Ti in potentially embarrassing situations while they vacation in a chateau outside of Paris. Oh no, something is afoot. Mr. H won’t let the new problem code-named The Poacher interfere with family time.
So, take a little time out of your busy schedule and join us for a T.A.G. Family Christmas the likes of you’ll never forget.
Attention: This story contains adorableness taken to a whole new level. There are adult situations, language, kinky snowmen, and all the churros you can eat.
The Assassins' Guild Series are enclosed stories but they are all connected and best read in order.
Summary:
A week of no-strings fun in a winter wonderland setting. No consequences, no expectations, no hurt feelings. Right?
Henry:
Finding his boyfriend in a compromising position leaves him with a week off work and no holiday to go on. A night of vodka, ice cream, and his sister’s sympathetic ear is the only way to deal with it. It’s also how he finds himself on holiday alone a few weeks later, at an English holiday village in the countryside, surrounded by Christmas cheer and happy families.
He’s expecting a week of relaxing days and early nights, doing his own thing, and taking some time for himself. And hopefully finding some festive spirit along the way, because it’s sorely lacking at the moment.
What he’s not expecting is Dom.
Dom:
Coming to somewhere so familiar soothes his broken heart after yet another failed attempt at finding someone to settle down with. He’s ready. They never are.
Seeing a lost-looking stranger on the first day of his holiday triggers his protective instincts, so he steps in to give him some helpful advice. Who knew that advice would mean they end up spending the day and then the whole week together? But he figures a holiday fling is exactly what he needs to get through this slump: no expectations, no misunderstandings, no heartbreak.
Or that was the plan.
He knows Henry wants more, but he doesn’t trust himself where his heart’s concerned. He doesn’t trust Henry not to break it.
A Christmas MM romance featuring a meet-cute, a sexy holiday fling, a meddling but awesome sister, a teeny bit of angst, and a festive HEA.
Summary:
Seven Summer Nights Festive Tale
Six months have passed since archaeologist Rufus Denby met and fell in love with Archie, the vicar of Droyton Parva. Archie isn't a vicar anymore, but the good souls of Droyton can't seem to let him go! He's become their informal squire, and all is well in the village, but Archie misses Rufus, who these days is in huge demand, travelling the world in search of ancient treasures.
But Rufus is home for his first Christmas at the rectory. The reunited pair are overjoyed and longing for some time alone. It's not to be: Archie's gift for gathering waifs and strays has packed the old house to its rafters. Worse still, Rufus is on the archaeological scent for a stunning local discovery, and Archie is starting to fear that the most he'll see of his lover these holidays is his shapely backside, sticking out of a trench!
As festive chaos erupts in Droyton, will Archie be able to resist the advances of a glamorous actress who's got her eye on the handsome, charming squire? Will he even notice them? And will the contents of the Christmas stocking Rufus has prepared for him overset the village apple cart once and for all?
"A charming festive visit to our friends from the rectory. The vibe is lighthearted - but, as ever in Fox's work, there are dangers and depths not far below the glittering surface. Seven Summer Nights fans will love this winter's tale."
Summary:
Sometimes the perfect Christmas is only an ice storm away.
Omega Stewart’s first Christmas since inheriting his family’s inn is going as well as can be expected. More than half the rooms are booked, he has activity lists for the guests, and the hours he spent on pinterest getting ideas for a Christmas tea he is planning were productive. Everything is perfect until the phone starts ringing and he suddenly finds himself overwhelmed and understaffed.
Alpha Roland plans to be home just in time for Christmas. He is going to spoil his nieces and nephews rotten, read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas at least a dozen times, and make enough cookies for the entire town. It’s going to be yet another magical Christmas...that is until all planes are grounded when an ice storm rolls in. At least there’s a room at the inn.
In Roland’s life, he has never met another Roland, and yet, somehow, one takes his room at the inn—the last room. Now he has nowhere to stay. He can’t even be mad at the innkeeper, an omega who is barely keeping things afloat in the chaos. Without thinking twice, he jumps in to help. After all, Christmas is his holiday. When Roland offers to sleep on the couch, Stewart offers him someplace better—his bed.
Sweater Weather is a sweet with knotty heat MM Mpreg Christmas romance brought to you by the popular co-writing team of Aria Grace and Lorelei M Hart. It features an alpha longing for a family Christmas, an omega doing his best to keep his guests happy and safe, a cat who thinks she owns the place, ornament making, tree decorating, off-key caroling, and more than Christmas cookies in the oven. If you love your Christmas romances Hallmark-esque, your happy ever afters complete with an adorable baby, and your mpreg with heart, order Sweater Weather today.
Preston's Christmas Escape by Brigham Vaughn
One
A glance at the sleek designer watch on Preston Graves’ wrist told him he was running late. He dashed through the house—equally sleek and designer—in search of his phone and finally found it on the kitchen counter next to the fruit bowl where he’d tossed it last night when he’d stumbled in around 4 a.m. Battery was definitely dead. Ugh, of course it was.
He’d just stuffed the device in his pocket when the intercom crackled to life and Allie Barnes’ voice came through. “Preston, I’m here but—”
He hit the button to open the gate before she could finish. “For once you’re on time,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll meet you out front.”
“Wait, Prest—”
No, he wasn’t waiting.
She did this every damn time. She came in, saying she had to pee, and got distracted, then an hour later when he finally herded her through the door, they’d missed their reservation. Not today. Preston strode to the front door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. A bright flash of light and sudden roar of noise made him flinch.
What the fuck?
Eyes watering, he blinked and instinctively reached for the sunglasses on top of his head. But when the flash of cameras and the shouted words finally registered, he stumbled back, blindly feeling for the doorknob. It had automatically locked behind him and he pressed against the sun-warmed wood, the onslaught of voices and words and flashes of light dizzying and disorienting him.
A reporter thrust a microphone in his face. “Do you have any comment, Preston?”
Another shouted, “Would you like to comment on the photos?”
“What is your response to your fans’ reactions to the news that you’re kinky?”
“What were you doing at a BDSM club?”
“Is it true that you’re gay?”
“How long have you been involved in kink?”
“Has Allie Barnes been your beard this whole time?”
He recoiled as the questions came faster and faster, the voices beginning to overlap, melding into a cacophony of noise and chaos. His heart raced out of control, his brain frantically scrambling to think, form a plan, but there was just helpless, panicked bleating inside his head.
Oh God, what the fuck happened? How did they find out?
Terror clutched at Preston’s throat, making it impossible to move or speak and the shouted words became white noise as he went lightheaded with fear.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, making even the paparazzi stop and turn. They parted enough for Preston to see a bright flash of blue from an SUV. A familiar voice shouted, “Preston, get in!” and he went limp with relief when his brain came back online.
He used the momentary distraction to shove his way through the crowd, and Allie threw the door of her SUV open just in time. He dove in, scrambling gracelessly into the seat and yanking the door shut as she pulled away with a squeal of tires.
“What the fuck was that?” he yelled.
“You’ve been discovered, Preston.” Allie’s voice was calm, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the steering wheel. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“No shit I’ve been discovered,” he snapped. His fingers trembled and it took him three tries before it clicked into place. “I’d figured out that much. How?”
“You had no idea?” She turned the corner sharply, throwing him against the door and leaving rubber in her wake.
“No! I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I got in around like four in the morning and crashed. I woke up with just enough time to shower and get dressed. My phone has been dead all morning.”
He fumbled in his pocket then plugged it in using her charging cable.
She glanced over. “Use my phone if you need to. It’s there in the console.” She rattled off a passcode and he reached for the sparkly pink thing and punched it in.
He held his breath as he searched for his name. A slew of lurid headlines greeted him, one jumping out immediately.
Actor Preston Graves' Kinky Gay Secret Exposed!
He groaned when he saw what site it was on. CelebGossip was the worst.
“I’m not fucking gay,” he muttered. “I’m bi. You’d think they could get it right in the headlines.”
“Yeah well, we know how concerned the gossip sites are about the accuracy of reporting,” Allie said with a roll of her eyes.
“Seriously.” He took a deep breath and kept reading.
Preston Graves built his career on a squeaky-clean image, but the CelebGossip site exclusive photos below show a whole different side of the Saving Hollywood actor.The images below are shocking and graphic depictions of the actor in an underground kink club in L.A. Sources say that Preston was spotted playing with a Dom for hire and that he had an ongoing relationship with the man, who goes by the name of Master Lawrence.The discovery of Preston Graves’ secret life as a gay submissive throws his entire relationship with co-star Allie Barnes into question.Though fans have shipped their relationship for years, neither of the stars nor their representatives have made an official comment confirming or denying it. The couple is frequently spotted enjoying cozy brunches and dinners at the hottest L.A. restaurants. Often seen on each other’s arm at parties and red-carpet events, the notoriously private stars’ behavior has led to public speculations that they are dating.Is his relationship with Allie Barnes just for show?Check out the exclusive photos below and decide for yourself. We certainly think so.
Allie swerved again, twice in quick succession, and Preston’s stomach lurched dangerously.
“Oh, God, I’m going to be sick,” Preston groaned. He dropped the phone into the cupholder and covered his mouth.
“Not in here,” Allie said firmly, “I just got this thing detailed. Let me be sure I’ve shaken our tail and I’ll find somewhere to pull over.”
“We’re being tailed?” he yelped, craning his neck to see behind them.
“Why the fuck do you think I’m driving like this?”
“You always drive like this,” he muttered.
“I do not!” She landed a swat on his arm and the car veered to the right.
He yelped again. “I don’t want to die like this!”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” She swerved left around another corner, then an abrupt right at the next light.
He gulped, stomach protesting again at the sudden, dizzying direction changes, and he clutched at the ‘oh shit’ handle, closing his eyes.
Oh God, no, that was worse. He opened them again, watching in terror as she wove through traffic.
“You’re not a stunt driver, Allie,” he reminded her. “I know you had a few hours of training for driving the ambulance on the show but that doesn’t count!”
“Gah, you ruin all my fun.”
But she slowed a little and his stomach settled enough for him to safely take a few breaths.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said in a dry tone as he unclenched his fingers from around the door handle, muscles aching from the white-knuckle grip. “Is my panic ruining your enjoyment of the crisis I’m currently in!”
“Yeah, just a little bit.” Her tone was cheerful, and he shook his head. If he didn’t know her so well, he’d be fucking annoyed, but she was always like this. Sarcasm was their love language.
Platonic love language, that was. Much as fans did ship them hard, they’d never been a couple in real life. Oh, they’d implied it, but it had never been confirmed or denied by either of their PR teams or the network, and that was what they all wanted.
Allie wasn’t his beard, per se, any more than he was hers. But they had a mutual agreement that both of their lives were easier if fans were focused on the “are they/aren’t they” of their relationship.
They played it up sometimes, just for fun.
It gave Preston enough of a cover to do his own thing quietly and discreetly—or so he’d thought—and for her to do the same. And he didn’t mind the steamy on-screen scenes they did together. They’d just never lead to anything off screen.
Some fans shipped his character with that of his co-star Jay Morton as well. Preston and Jay got along well on and off screen, but they’d both been downplaying the “I date men” part of their sexualities, so they’d never let it develop into anything.
Hell, Preston hadn’t dated anyone in years. It was easier that way.
“I am grateful for the rescue,” Preston admitted to Allie, slumping against the seat as the adrenaline began to wear off.
He was even more grateful when she pulled in behind a convenience store and put the vehicle in park. They were well-hidden enough that they could probably hide out here for a few minutes. Preston let out a relieved groan that they were no longer moving and then the enormity of what a mess he was in, hit.
“Oh fuck, how did this happen?” He unclipped the seatbelt and turned to face his friend. He caught a glimpse of himself in the side mirror, face chalk-white, shell-shocked expression. Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.
Allie twisted in her seat and gave him a look.
“Well, you took your clothes off and got tied to a cross by a big, strapping man, who beat you and shoved a dildo up your ass, and someone got pictures of the whole thing.”
The queasiness in Preston’s stomach returned three-fold and he clutched his midsection.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” Allie asked.
“No?”
“I had to find out you were kinky on Twitter.” She crossed her arms and scowled at him. “Rude! I thought we were close.”
“It’s on Twitter?” he said weakly.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s everywhere.” She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and flipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder. “You better give Vanessa a call. I’m sure you have about four hundred messages waiting from her.”
T.A.G. Family Christmas by DG Carothers
Connor
Paris, France
Sixteen Days till Christmas
Lights twinkled, making the bare trees that lined the Champs Elysée seem full once more in the early evening darkness. This far north, the sun was long set by five. My breath puffed in the chilly air in front of me as I looked down the wide avenue with the Arc de Triumph behind me. The sound of the cars zooming around the large roundabout was dim to my ears as I stood in awe of the sight before me.
Ice glistened on the branches as the smell of—a sharp elbow jabbed my bicep. “Are you going to stand here all evening gaping? I’m freezing my nuts off here, and you promised me lots of mulled wine and fresh churros.”
I side-eyed Yoshi with a huff. “I was imprinting this moment to my memory. Plus, look how pretty it is. Besides, I told you to wear a thicker jacket.”
“Well, if we move, I won’t be so cold, and I didn’t want to look like a marshmallow man.”
“At least I’m warm and fashionable.” I’d worn a poofy teal coat that went to mid-thigh, toasty flannel lined jeans with fleece-lined boots. I topped off my outfit with matching earmuffs that had cat ears on them and a pair of our special cold weather gloves that kept my hands perfectly warm while not losing any dexterity nor the ability to operate any of our touchscreen electronics.
Yoshi pogoed on his toes, and I looked back over to Bob, who shrugged. “Well, at least let me get some photos first.”
“Fuck. It’s cold.” Yoshi blew into his hands.
“Well, I offered you earmuffs, but you scoffed at me. Dmitry told you to at least take a scarf and you scoffed at him. I think you just like suffering and complaining about it.” I took the opportunity to pull my scarf over my nose to try to warm it. The wind by the Arc was a bit too much for my comfort.
Yoshi laughed heartily. “Of course I like suffering.”
“That’s not what you said this morning. You were begging for Dmitry to stop torturing and fuck you,” I quipped.
“Damn thin walls in that place.” Yoshi blushed a little then shrugged it off. “I’m not the only one who’s loud. How tight is your Daddy’s hole? I don’t think I quite heard.”
I grinned wide and licked my lips. “Mmmmm, so tight. He hugs my cock—”
Yoshi shoulder checked me, nearly making me stumble into someone walking in the opposite direction. “And he’s so hot and the way he flexes—” I dodged Yoshi and caught up to Bob, who had taking point. He arched an eyebrow at me as I used him as a shield.
“Brat.”
“You’re just jealous.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
“I do not want to know what Oz’s ass even looks like, much less feels.”
I fell back in step with Yoshi. “Eww, no, of course not, but I meant that you never get to fuck Dmitry.”
Yoshi shrugged. “Eh, it’s not something I need. Sometimes it’d be nice but I’m good.”
We were finally topside again. So many people were out shopping or having dinner. There were many tourists as well, but it was the Champs Elysée, so that was expected. The next day they were going shopping in the fashion district. I wasn’t a clothes whore by any means, but if you’re going to come to Paris, you must at least do some clothes shopping.
“Do you want to stop for a coffee?”
“No, let’s go to Tiffany’s like you want first.”
A nervous excitement bubbled in my gut as we got closer to the store. “Are you sure you don’t want something too?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. We do a lot of things together, but I think we can skip this one.”
“Don’t you want to marry Dmitry?”
“Sure, someday, but it’s not something I really think about. He’s not going anywhere. He promised and he has my key.”
I nodded as I walked through the door that Bob held open to the multilevel shop. “Maybe you can get him like a diamond-encrusted cock ring?”
“Nah, do you know what a pain that would be to clean?”
A No-Strings Noel by Annabelle Jacobs
Chapter One
“Do it like you mean it, big boy! That’s it, right there.” Henry stood in the doorway to his boyfriend’s bedroom, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Well, this is awkward.”
“Fuck.” Kyle, his boyfriend of six months, currently dick-deep in—Henry leant to the side to get a better look—ahh, Mika from next door, glanced back at him with a look of shock. But, Henry noted with a weird sort of detachment, he didn’t stop ploughing into Mika, just slowed his pace to a leisurely stroke instead of a rabid jackhammer. “You’re back early.”
“I am.” Henry raised an eyebrow and gestured to the bed. “And for fuck’s sake, can you get your dick out of Mika for five fucking minutes while I’m trying to talk to you?”
Kyle had the nerve to sigh as he pulled out and slumped to the side, facing Henry.
He still had the fucking condom on.
“Jesus.” Henry scrubbed a hand over his eyes, having seen enough. He should’ve been full of rage, ready to give Kyle a piece of his mind, but all he felt was numb. No words waited to spill out. In fact, his mind was sort of blank.
I need to get out of here.
Henry’s pyjama bottoms lay on the floor where he’d left them a couple of hours ago, and an unexpected bark of laughter burst out. “I bet the bed wasn’t even cold. Did you even bother to have a shower after we fucked this morning?”
Kyle shrugged and Mika turned over to glare at him. “Really? You couldn’t have had a fucking wash before I came over?”
That’s all he’s bothered about?
Henry was done.
So fucking done.
And so were he and Kyle.
“Box up my stuff. I’ll come round to collect it at the weekend.”
“Henry, wait, this doesn’t mean anything.”
Henry grimaced. “Oh, so you weren’t doing it like you meant it, then? Big boy.”
Mika snorted and Kyle went to get up, but Henry shot his hand out.
“Don’t bother. I’m leaving. We’re finished, Kyle.” He turned and walked away, ignoring Kyle shouting his name.
It wasn’t until he got outside that it all hit him.
With shaking hands, Henry unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel. “Shit,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears. Six months wasn’t ages, but Henry had liked him.
A lot.
And being cheated on was the fucking worst.
His gut told him it wasn’t the first time either. Before his mind could wander down that path, Henry pulled out his phone and messaged his sister.
Henry: You home?
Ella: Yes, why?
Henry: Caught K fucking someone else.
Ella: THAT NASTY LITTLE CUNT. I HOPE HE CATCHES HIS FORESKIN IN HIS ZIP.
Henry smiled despite himself.
Henry: Such a way with words.
Ella: I try.
Ella: I’m getting out the ice cream and the vodka.
Henry: Be there in five.
*****
One pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food and half a bottle of vodka later, Henry sat slumped on his sister’s sofa, cradling a shot glass. “Why?” he mused, reaching for the bottle.
Ella scoffed and held out her glass for a refill. “Because he’s a weasel-dicked little arsehole.” She clinked her glass against Henry’s and gently nudged his shoulder. “And he obviously didn’t deserve you.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “Because I’m obviously such a catch.”
“You are.” Ella turned in her seat to glare at him with slightly unfocused eyes. Or maybe it was Henry’s that were unfocused.
“I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, and I still live with my uni mates. I work at Tesco, for fuck’s sake.”
“Hey.” Ella waved her now-empty glass at him. “Only because you haven’t found your forever job yet. And there’s nothing wrong with working at Tesco. You never used to think like that until Kyle-the-arsehole kept taking the piss.”
True.
Ella relieved him of the bottle and poured another shot. “At least you don’t have to worry about driving round mountains and going on ski lifts now.”
“What?” It took Henry’s booze-addled brain a moment to parse her words.
Oh.
The skiing trip.
Kyle’s early Christmas present to Henry had been a skiing trip at the end of November. He’d paid for everything. All Henry had to do was provide his own spending money. Which he’d picked up extra shifts to save for.
On the surface, it seemed a wonderful gesture his boyfriend had made. Except Henry was frightened of heights.
Terrified, to be more precise.
He didn’t like walking next to the glass barrier on the top floor of the shopping centre.
A fact Kyle had rolled his eyes at and promptly ignored.
A shudder ran through him at the thought of the bus ride to the resort. “I read online that some of the roads have sheer drops.”
Ella shook her head. “I still can’t believe he booked it after you told him you’re afraid of heights.”
“He said it would do me good to face my fears.”
She poured them another drink and pointed the bottle at Henry. “And why the hell did you agree to go, anyway?”
He sighed and slumped back against the sofa cushions. “I wanted to make him happy.”
Ella’s pitying look wasn’t something he could deal with right then, so he waved a hand at her. “Get rid of that face. It doesn’t matter now.” He downed his shot, wincing at the burn and the slight protest from his stomach. Tomorrow would be brutal. “I’m not going skiing with Kyle or doing anything with him ever again.”
Ella raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
Henry laughed at her but then shook his head. “Instead, I get to spend a week at home doing fuck all. Again.”
Fear of heights aside, the idea of getting away for a bit had been something he’d looked forward to. It felt like forever since he’d done that. “I guess I could always cancel my time off and go into work instead.” Not an appealing thought either.
“Oh!” Ella sat up straight and set the vodka bottle down with a clang. “I’ve just had the best idea.”
Henry narrowed his eyes, knowing from experience Ella’s drunken ideas never worked out well for him. “No. Whatever it is, just no.”
“You’ve not even heard it yet.” She grabbed her phone, and after a couple of attempts at typing something, sat back with a satisfied smile. “Now we wait for him to reply.”
“Who? And about what?” He nudged her with his foot. “What have you done?”
“Stop looking so moody. I’m trying to sort out a holiday for you.”
Henry frowned and ran a hand through his hair, massaging his temple where a headache threatened. “I can sort out my own holiday, El.”
Her phone buzzed and she snatched it up off the coffee table, her smile widening as she read. “No need. It’s done. And it’ll only cost you about two hundred quid for the week.”
“That sounds suspiciously cheap.” Where the fuck was she sending him? “I’m not spending a week in a freezing caravan somewhere. I’d rather stay at home, thanks.”
“It’s not a caravan, and you won’t need to drive all that far either.” She made her eyes wide and gave him that look. The one that spelt trouble and, unfortunately, the one he couldn’t say no to. “Do you trust me?”
He slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. “You know I do.”
“Then believe me when I say you’ll enjoy this. I know you don’t mind being on your own, so this is perfect.”
Knowing he was most likely going to regret this, but having had far too much vodka to care, Henry nodded. “Okay, fine.” Ella clapped her hands and snatched her phone up to type a message back to whoever she’d been chatting with.
“Right, so, three weeks on Friday, you’ll be going here.” She held up her phone triumphantly, showing him the website for a family holiday park, and Henry groaned. “Their Christmas decorations go up throughout the park next week. It’ll be so festive.” She laughed. “Even you won’t be able to resist getting in the Christmas spirit.”
“It’s not even December yet.” Not that Henry was averse to Christmas or anything, but he didn’t normally go mad with it like Ella. And he doubted he’d be feeling the urge to celebrate, considering he’d just broken up with his boyfriend.
“Have you already forgotten that I’m heartbroken?”
That wiped the smile off her face and Henry instantly felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that you’re upset about it all, whereas I couldn’t be happier.”
Henry snorted. She’d never hidden the fact she thought Kyle was a knob. Turned out she’d been right after all.
“Just go away for the week, enjoy the crisp fresh air and pamper yourself. They have a huge spa, massive swimming area, and lots of restaurants. And you can walk to your heart’s content.”
“But it’s a family place.” Henry liked children well enough, but being surrounded by them whilst holidaying alone wasn’t his idea of fun.
“It’s not even the school holidays. How many kids can there be?” The way she wouldn’t look him in the eye as she said it told him all he needed to know.
Arse.
I’m never drinking vodka again.
*****
November 26th
Henry thanked the very nice lady at the check-in booth as she handed him his villa keys and a map, then he followed the arrows to the massive car park. Apparently he couldn’t go into his one-bed villa until 4pm, but he could enjoy the rest of the facilities that the holiday park had to offer. Which he had to admit after looking them up online were an impressive amount.
They’d spared no expense on their festive holiday decorations either. The long winding road through the forest had been littered with LED animals and trees.
Even Henry was starting to feel Christmassy.
But going anywhere new unsettled him until he’d got his bearings, so with more than a little trepidation, Henry parked up, grabbed his rucksack, and headed in the direction that everyone else seemed to be going.
He’d arrived early. Might as well get his money’s worth, after all. But the car park was already packed.
And despite his sister’s assurances to the contrary, there were kids.
Lots of kids.
Pre-school age ones.
Henry sighed. He really needed to get over himself.
Kids were fine.
You like them. Usually.
You’re still pissed off over Kyle and everything is annoying at the moment.
The reception arrows seemed like a good thing to follow, and Henry trudged along with everyone else until the massive dome came into view.
Ahh, that’ll be the pool area.
It was a lot bigger than he’d anticipated.
Once he walked through the sliding doors, he saw why. It needed to accommodate the fucking huge Christmas tree that greeted everyone as they came in. Henry had to tilt his head back a little to see the top of it. Shops and restaurants lined the sides of a wide, festively decorated pathway that curved round and down.
And it was hot, too.
He’d expected it to be warmer than the outside, obviously, but this was a warm, sticky heat that was rapidly making him uncomfortable.
It was also busy.
Really busy.
Henry wasn’t sure he could cope with this many people for the next seven days.
As he took off his gloves and his beanie, he looked around for somewhere to sit while he worked out what to do for the next six hours.
Six hours.
Jeez.
I’m going to kill Ella for this.
“Hi.”
Henry looked up and immediately froze when he met a pair of startling green eyes staring back at him. The square jaw and accompanying warm smile made his brain go offline for a second, and much to his horror he couldn’t make his mouth work.
The guy was about an inch or so taller than Henry, with big wide shoulders and hair the colour of straw.
He was attractive in that rugged kind of way that made Henry imagine him working outdoors with his hands.
The guy held out one of those hands towards Henry. “I’m Dom.”
Manners made Henry automatically reach out and accept the handshake. “Henry.”
Dom smiled wryly. “I don’t often accost strangers in the reception area, but you looked kind of lost and confused.”
Henry laughed. “I am.” No point denying it when even complete strangers could see it.
“First time?”
“I’m sorry?”
Dom chuckled. “Coming here. Is this the first time you’ve been?”
“Yes.” Henry glanced around the busy reception area, at restaurants and cafes with every available seat taken, and shuddered. “You’re telling me people actually come back for more?”
“It’s only like this on changeover days. On a Monday and Friday, everyone gets kicked out of their villas by ten, and you have all the new people coming in, so it gets a bit busy.”
“A bit?”
“Well, all the Christmas decorations are up now, so that adds to it, I guess. But it’ll be a lot quieter from tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Trust me. I come here a lot.”
Henry wanted to ask, why would you do that? but decided that would probably be rude. “Okay, I have just under six hours before I can get in my villa. What do you suggest I do until then, since you’re such an expert?” he asked instead and winced at his tone. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound like a twat.” He waved at the people around them. “I’m not keen on crowds.”
Dom shrugged. “Who is?” He went to put his hand on Henry’s arm, then looked up. “Can I?”
Henry nodded, a little amazed. The first time he’d met Kyle, he’d manhandled Henry up against the bar without even asking his name first.
With a gentle touch, Dom guided him over to a display board that housed a map of the park and photos of various activities. “On changeover days, the dome area gets really busy, especially when the weather is shit. So the pool is out, and so are the restaurants unless you’ve pre-booked. But the pool gets a lot emptier between three thirty and four thirty while all the newbies rush to get into their villas.”
“Good to know.” Henry would most likely be one of those newbies.
Dom pointed to the lake on the map. “You’ve got the sports area down there. The bar and café are probably just as busy as up here, but the sports facilities are usually okay if you want to book a badminton or tennis court.”
“It won’t be much fun playing with myself.” Henry laughed, then immediately flushed when he realised what he’d said.
Dom cocked an eyebrow. “I quite enjoy playing with myself. Although doing it with a partner is preferable, I agree.”
Henry stared at him, opening his mouth, then shutting it again before letting out words that had no business leaving his lips. “And, um . . . will your partner be joining you soon?” Omg Henry, you’ve only just met the man.
The sudden silence seemed to last an age as Dom studied his face, and Henry mentally crossed his fingers that his lame attempt at flirting hadn’t landed him in trouble.
Dom finally sighed as though deciding something and ran a hand through his hair. “My partner and I were supposed to be coming here together, but we’re no longer a couple, so I’m here on my own.”
It reminded Henry of his own situation and he bit his bottom lip, flirting forgotten. “Sorry. I know how shitty that feels. I was supposed to be going skiing with my boyfriend, but I found him fucking his neighbour, so here I am instead.” The shocked gasp from behind him had Henry clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry,” he said quickly to the woman and two small children walking past him. When he glanced back at Dom, he found him grinning back, eyes alight with laughter.
“Well, my story isn’t as colourful as yours. I’m still good friends with him. We just weren’t working anymore together.” Dom edged them further into the corner out of the way, but Henry was too busy trying not to get excited about the fact that Dom had said him to be offended.
Dom licked his lips, and Henry’s eyes took on a life of their own, watching the swipe of Dom’s pink tongue without his approval. He had full lips. Kissable lips.
Henry liked kissing.
Missed it since he’d broken up with Kyle.
“So I was thinking . . .” Dom said, snapping Henry’s gaze back to his. “I know we’ve only just met and everything, but I was about to see if they’ve got any slots free at the spa—it’s normally quite empty on changeover days—and I wondered if you fancied joining me?”
“Um . . .” Henry wasn’t often lost for words, but he’d come away to be on his own for a week. To collect his thoughts and concentrate on himself for once. Not jump on the first hot guy he met. Oh, who am I kidding? They’re El’s words, not mine. “Yeah, okay. Sounds great.” Not that Henry had ever been to a spa, but he figured they’d both be nearly naked, so how bad could it be?
Not to mention Dom’s answering smile sent a welcome little flutter through his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a while.
Ella had said to enjoy himself, after all.
With Dom doing the talking, they managed to book a slot from noon to three.
Luckily Henry had packed his towel and swimming shorts in his rucksack because he’d only remembered them at the last minute.
Once they’d paid, Henry shoved his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do next. They had about another hour until their slot started, but he had no idea whether Dom wanted to go off and do something else on his own first.
“There’s a café down near the lake. We could walk down, get a coffee, and sit outside if you want. Since we’ve got an hour to kill.” He frowned and glanced outside where the sky had turned an ominous grey colour. “I know it’s a bit chilly—”
“I don’t mind the cold,” Henry cut in quickly. Truth be told, he’d much rather be outside than in.
Dom gestured to the doors behind them. “Let’s go then.”
*****
Dom shivered as they stepped outside.
The cold a sharp contrast to the sticky heat of the dome area. “Christ, it’s cold.” He quickly zipped his coat up and pulled on his hat, turning to see Henry pulling on his beanie and his gloves. As sad as he was to see all that unruly dark hair disappear under his hat, it did highlight his blue eyes and sharp cheekbones.
“The lake is this way.” Dom started to walk up the path with Henry falling into step beside him.
He didn’t make a habit of approaching total strangers, especially not at a family-friendly holiday resort. But Henry had looked so out of place and lost, the caretaker in him couldn’t help himself.
And Henry was hot too.
All angles and hair.
He’d only meant to offer a bit of friendly advice, but things had taken an unexpected yet very welcome turn. He grinned to himself as they walked. “What’s your last name then, Henry? I feel we should share that before getting half-naked together.”
Henry glanced at him, lips quirked. “That’s not usually the way it happens.”
Dom barked out a laugh. This was not what he’d expected when he’d seen Henry walk in through those doors. “I like to do things differently.”
For a minute he wondered if Henry would answer, but after a slight pause he said, “My last name is West. I’m twenty-six and from Bristol.” He grinned. “Thought I’d get it all out there, save you the trouble of asking.”
“We’ll have nothing left to talk about if you carry on like that.”
“Sorry.” Henry fiddled with the buttons on his coat. “New places make me a bit nervous, and when I’m nervous, I tend to talk a lot. And quickly.” He shrugged. “I’ll be fine once I get my bearings.”
Dom looked around at the villas nestled in the forest and the fairy lights lining the road and nudged Henry’s shoulder. “It’s a holiday park in England. Not the Vegas Strip.”
“I know it probably sounds stupid, but—”
Dom stopped him with a hand on his arm and waited until Henry looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious. It’s not stupid at all.” Guilt tugged at him, and Dom mentally kicked himself for being so insensitive.
That wasn’t him at all.
Maybe his breakup had affected him more than he thought.
Resolved to do better and not give Henry the impression he was an arse, Dom made it his mission to point out everything on their walk down to the lake.
“There’s more restaurants up ahead on the left.” He gestured to where the roofs jutted out above the trees. “And there’s a massive children’s playground there too.”
Henry’s eyes widened as they passed it. “They never had anything like that when I was little.”
“Same.” Although Dom’s little was a few years before Henry’s.
As they reached the start of the raised walkway down to the lake area, Henry bumped his shoulder. “You never told me your last name.”
“Spencer.” He grinned. “I’m thirty-two and I’m from Somerset.”
Henry smiled back, and Dom wondered if he was imagining the slight relaxing of Henry’s shoulders. “Why did you decide to come here on your own?”
“Why did you?” Dom countered.
“I asked first.”
Dom breathed in deep and let it out slowly while he figured what to say that wouldn’t make him sound sad. “I’ve been coming here for a few years. Used to come with my family when I was younger. I like the familiarity.” He found it easier coming back to somewhere he knew so well. “When Sam and I broke up, it just seemed like the natural thing to do.”
“You didn’t want to cancel or bring someone else?”
Dom raised both eyebrows. “I’m not that quick at replacing people.”
Henry huffed. “I meant friends or family.”
“Nah. I work with my brothers as it is. As much as I love both them and my job, I’ve no wish to holiday with them too. And my friends couldn’t get the time off.” He shrugged and gestured to the beautiful scenery laid out below and around them. “It’s not exactly a hardship coming here. There’s plenty to do, and I don’t mind my own company.” Which was true. He would’ve been quite happy going to the spa on his own, but Henry was an added bonus.
They walked further down the path until Henry drew to a halt and pointed up into the tall trees above them. “What’s that up there.”
Dom glanced up to see the aerial walkway course: ropes and wooden walkways of all shapes and sizes strung between the tree trunks. “It’s the aerial walkway.” He gestured over his shoulder. “The start of it is back there a bit. You walk up into the trees, then make your way around the course and there’s a zipwire at the end.”
Henry stared at him, then looked up again, frowning like he couldn’t parse what Dom had said. “It doesn’t look that high from down here.”
Dom laughed. “Yeah, I know, but trust me, it seems a lot higher when you’re up there.” Not that Dom was all that bothered by heights, but the first time he’d done the walkway had been a bit of a shock, because Henry was right, it didn’t look all that bad from down here. But once you were balancing on the wooden steps, swaying from side to side, it soon got a little hairy. Especially if it was wet. But the zipwire ride at the end was awesome. “You fancy it?”
Henry visibly shuddered. “Err . . . no thanks.”
They reached the bottom of the path and Dom pointed to the group of buildings up ahead. “That’s the sports pavilion. They’ve indoor climbing, badminton, tennis, and Astroturf football pitches out the back. Lots of other smaller stuff too.” Maybe Henry would want to do some of those things with him since they were both on their own? Dom didn’t voice his thoughts though, one step at a time. He pointed to a couple of small buildings to the left. “And that there is where they run all the kid’s crèche things.”
Henry laughed. “I can hear.”
He had a lovely smile. When it reached his eyes like that, it lit up his whole face, and Dom got caught staring.
“Where’s this coffee you promised me?” Henry’s cheeks were dusted pink, and Dom didn’t know if it was from the cold or Dom’s blatant appreciation.
Not wanting to make things awkward between them, Dom smiled and looked ahead to where they were going. “Just up here. Come on.”
As Dom predicted, the inside part of the café and the sports bar next door were full to bursting, but the seats outside were empty apart from a few hardy customers. After collecting their drinks, Dom led them back outside and took a seat at one of the spare tables.
It was cold, but hopefully the coffee would help keep them warm for a bit.
“So,” Dom began, sipping his drink and stealing a glance at Henry. He was busy admiring their surroundings, gaze darting from place to place. “You never told me how you ended up here on your own?”
“I did.” Henry frowned. “I told you my skiing trip got cancelled because I caught my boyfriend fucking his neighbour.”
“Oh, yes. Me and half the people at reception.” Dom chuckled at Henry’s groan of embarrassment. “But why did you come here when it’s obviously not your type of place?” Dom waited while Henry seemed to struggle for an answer.
Eventually he set his mug down and rubbed at his temples as though he had a headache forming. “I got very drunk with my sister after I walked in on Kyle and his wandering penis.”
Dom choked a little on his drink. “Thanks for that image.”
Henry smirked. “Ella, that’s my sister, knows someone who works in one of the restaurants here. Apparently they’d had a few late cancellations and he got her a friends-and-family deal. So it was, um . . . cheap.” He looked down at his drink, and Dom got the impression he hadn’t meant to say that bit.
“Didn’t you get a refund from your skiing trip?” Surely that would’ve cost way more than a week at a UK holiday village, considering it wasn’t school holidays or anything.
Henry bit his lip, his cheeks growing pinker by the second, and Dom was beginning to wish he’d never asked.
“You don’t have to talk about this if it makes you uncomfortable. I was just curious.” And that curiosity had only increased with Henry’s reluctance to answer, but Dom wasn’t the type to push.
Henry seemed to waver for a moment before slumping in his seat. “Kyle paid for the trip. I just saved my spending money.”
“That was nice of him?” It didn’t seem to fit with someone who’d then cheat. Assuming they’d been exclusive.
“In a way, I suppose it was. He really wanted to go, so I guess it was either pay for me or go on his own. But I’m scared of heights, so I’m not convinced my enjoyment featured heavily in his plans.”
A surprised laugh escaped Dom. “You’re afraid of heights and yet he booked a skiing trip for you?”
Henry nodded. “Yep.”
“Wow.”
“I know. I guess that should’ve been a clue that he was a bit of an arse.”
Dom agreed. Anyone who ignored their partner’s fears like that wasn’t a keeper. But then, “I know it’s none of my business, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why did you agree to go?”
Henry scowled and Dom braced himself, expecting to be told where to go. “You sound like my sister.” His features evened out then, and he sighed. “I don’t know why I went along with it, really. Maybe I felt like I had to since he’d paid and everything. I’ve only just finished uni, so I’ve not got loads of money to spare. I felt bad for never being able to do stuff, I guess.”
Now it was Dom’s turn to frown. “I thought you said you were twenty-six?”
“I am.” Henry raised an eyebrow, as if challenging Dom to comment. “Not everyone goes to uni straight from school. I wanted to save up a bit first so I didn’t have horrendous loans when I finished.”
“Fair enough.” They’d been talking for so long that when Dom glanced at his watch, it was almost quarter to twelve. “You ready?” He gestured to Henry’s mug. “It’s almost time for our slot.”
Henry drained the last of his drink and stood. “Lead the way.”
They walked round the lake towards the spa in silence. Not exactly awkward, but not comfortable either. Dom wondered if Henry regretted saying all that to a virtual stranger. “Look,” he said, drawing Henry to a halt. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. We’ve only just met, and I asked you some pretty personal questions.”
Henry met his gaze. “You did. But I asked you some earlier, so fair’s fair, I guess.” He glanced at the lake and slipped his hands into his pockets, looking suddenly shy. “I didn’t mind. For some reason, I find you easy to talk to. Maybe it’s because you are a stranger and I’m never going to see you again after this. So what does it matter?”
That last part stung, but Dom hid his reaction. They were strangers. Why would Henry want to spend any more time with him when he’d obviously come away for some time alone? “Maybe.” He carried on walking, but as he reached for the door to the spa, he turned to Henry and offered a small smile. “For what it’s worth, it’s easy to talk to you too.”
Squire Archie's Rectory Christmas by Harper Fox
"I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had this.”
“What, my love?”
Archie swallowed hard. His heart was thudding in astonishment that Rufus would risk the endearment, here on the path where the yellow roses had closed over their heads in the summer, and the green leaves provided such sheltering shade. There was no concealment now, only thorns. His fingers on one hand were laced tight through Rufus’s. He had to wait before he could answer, and his words came through gritted teeth. “Waiting for someone. Long enough to wonder if they were alive or dead.”
“Oh, God.” Rufus turned to face him. He lifted his face, and Archie wouldn’t kiss him, not out here, but somehow their brows were resting together. Giles had discreetly vanished, all the noisy new arrivals briefly quenched. If the house itself had a power of protection, channelled through his transformed spirit and the watchful souls of Drusilla and Maria Nettles, they would be safe. “I’m so sorry. The railways seem to like to keep their most urgent work for the busiest time of the year, and...”
“And what?”
“Nothing.”
“No, not nothing.” Archie picked up and followed the glimmering threads of unease, his keys to the labyrinth of his lover’s mind. “Why else are you late?”
“Oh, Archie. Someone jumped in front of the train. One of the reporters who... who went into Belsen and took all the photographs, the guard said it was. Another one.”
Archie closed his grip tighter. He said, for want of a wiser or more consoling word, “Fuck.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you.”
Archie gave him a gentle shake. “Why on earth not?”
“Because I’ve come home for Christmas. And there’s nothing festive about...”
“A body on the railway line. For such awful reasons.” Quickly Archie checked around. He’d learned that one glance wasn’t enough, that observers could congregate without a breath or shoe-scrape of warning. He hated his vigilance, but he’d pay the price a thousand times over if it meant he could lay a hand on his lover’s face, give him that comfort right now when he needed it, not half an hour later when – knowing Rufus – he’d have found a way to choke the trouble down. “I’m so glad you did tell me. We’re being called post-war England, you know. I read it in the Times.”
Rufus pushed his cheek against Archie’s palm. He’d closed his eyes, and the relief of the loving touch at the right moment had softened the lines of pain on his brow. “So everything’s over, is it? Shall I break out my demob suit?”
“Oh, did you finally get one of those?”
“Yes. I shouldn’t have, really, because they more or less shipped me home in a basket, and I never did get to trade in my uniform for civvies at one of the centres. Still, they issued me one, and sent it care of the museum because they didn’t have my address down here. It’s rather dapper, I have to say – pinstripes, with a little waistcoat to match. I should have brought it with me. It’s just that...”
“It’s just that for you, it won’t ever be over. Not for you, not for the Jews, not for anyone who saw what happened in the camps. Not for me either, and that’s the good part, dear Rufus – we don’t have to hide from each other. We never have to pretend that everything’s all right.”
Rufus let go of an unsteady breath. Then he looked up, and gave Archie a smile of such brilliance that for a moment summer returned, and the scent of golden roses. “But the strange thing is that... knowing you feel that way, everything is all right for me, somehow. Come along, Squire Archie. You’d better introduce me to your house-load of Christmas guests.”
“I didn’t invite any of them, you know. They just descended. And you mustn’t call me squire, love!”
“I suppose you shouldn’t call me love, out here in the open, if it comes to that. Ah, if you could have seen yourself, though – standing on the doorstep surveying your domain, and all the birds flocking to you for shelter!”
“For Mrs Nettles’ mince pies, is more like it. Very well, then – come on in, if I’m not to be allowed half an hour with you in the bike shed first.” He took hold of Rufus’s wrist, drew his arm through his own. “We’re allowed this much, aren’t we?”
“Yes. We’re allowed this much.”
Together they made their way into the house. Archie’s whole attention had focussed on the link between them, where human warmth had made its way through tweed and cotton and was sending up bright signals to his heart. He barely noticed the new shadow falling across the hallway: stopped with a jolt when Rufus did, clamping one hand tight to his arm. “Good Lord, Archie. What’s that?”
Archie followed his gaze. The huge stag’s skull had been hoisted over the archway that led to the kitchen, and expertly lashed into place there, tinsel and all. “Ah. Drusilla brought us that as a kind of Christmas gift, although she doesn’t hold with new-fangled modern festivals. He’s for Yuletide, I gather. I’ve no idea how he’s ended up there so quickly – although, having said that, the house is full of able-bodied young men at the moment.”
“Oh, really? Who have you got? Captain Meredith must count for one.”
“Several, if being an adoring husband qualifies him. Billy Prescott is around here somewhere, come to show off his constable’s uniform. And then of course there’s...” Their eyes met, and they both finished out the thought in rich amusement. “There’s Giles.”
Stifled giggles exploded from the living room. Archie’s reflexes weren’t fast enough to pull his arm out of Rufus’s grip, and damned if he would anyway: we can have this much, Rufus had said, and Archie was ready to defend their small permissions and privileges to the death. Straight-faced and steady, he turned to the source of the noise. “Ah,” he said, as urbanely as he could manage. “Rufus, I haven’t yet had the chance to introduce you to...”
Oh, hell. He couldn’t remember their names. Worse, he couldn’t think how to define them, these glittering, silk-clad apparitions. And that was ridiculous, because if they’d been men he’d have simply said that they were Giles’s friends. Distress began to shadow the younger woman’s face, and Giles, as if receiving a silent summons, shot out of the kitchen. He edged past Archie and Rufus, smiling, and went to put an arm around her waist. “My fiancée,” he said firmly, making her beam in pleasure and relief. “And this is her sister, Greta. Ladies, this is Dr Denby, the famous archaeologist I told you about.”
“Oh,” said Loretta, “I’ve read about you in the papers, Dr Denby. Ever so interesting. Such an honour to meet you.”
Rufus would always have trouble with women, Archie wryly reflected. Despite his wholly restored reputation and growing fame, he brought a shy, helplessly lady-killing charm to introductions. He had let go of Archie and was stepping forward now, hand outstretched. “I’ve made your acquaintance too, in a way,” he said, and Loretta took his hand and looked as though she’d have liked to kiss it. “Yours too, Miss Lombardi. Archie and I saw you in a film, the last we were in London. Very...” He paused, and no-one but Archie would have detected his brief struggle for a word. “Very entertaining. It’s my great pleasure to meet you both too.”
Trust Rufus to remember the women’s faces, to pick out the one link between them. Over time, Archie had learned how close he’d come to losing him to Alice Winborne, who even in her grief had come down like a weary dove in response to his diffident kindness. Greta’s mouth had fallen open. She said, in what might have been meant as a whisper but carried clearly across the room, “Oh, my God, Lorrie. I know what you said, but I can’t possibly choose!”
Loretta went scarlet. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “That was a joke,” she hissed. “A joke between us, and a private one, you fool!”
Archie and Rufus watched in bewilderment as she dragged Greta to the door, then out into the hallway. Their voices faded off in a series of yelps and snarls. Giles, left behind and blushing vividly too, turned to face them. “I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” he said. He really was the pink of post-war English perfection, Archie thought, with his handsome, open face and immaculately cut motoring gear. Again over time, the memories of his emergence from the pit beneath the church had begun to seem like a dream. “I’m very fond of Greta, but the truth is that she’s travelling with us because Lorrie is keen to help her find a husband, and... well, when I told them about the two of you, they had their little joke about which of you Greta would prefer.”
“Oh,” was all Archie could think of to say, and was relieved when Rufus added a slightly more articulate, “Good grief.”
“I know,” Giles agreed, nodding fervently. “I’d be angry with her, only I do remember how it was when... well, when I was like her. A man in his thirties has the world at his feet, if he’s talented and hardworking, which she is, in her way. An actress that age has to look around her. Most of them jump out of the business to get married, you see.”
Archie rubbed his brow. “And... she thought to land here?”
“Not seriously. It’s my fault really. I talked to them so much about you both – how kind you were, and how good. One of you a country squire, and the other getting so well known for making all those discoveries... I suppose they’ve come to think of you as what they call a catch.”
But I’ve already been caught. Archie didn’t know why he didn’t just say it. He hadn’t dreamed the transformation in the pit, the turning castle where his lungs had been healed by Rufus’s kiss and Gillian had turned into Giles. He was certain that Giles knew. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, keeping a tremor of laughter out of his tone, trying to imagine either himself or Rufus pairing off with such a bird of cinematic paradise. “You and your Lombardis stay here for Christmas. And perhaps you can find a way of telling Greta that, lovely though she is, she’ll find better opportunities...”
“Archie, look.”
He swung round. For a minute or so he’d been aware that Rufus’s attention had detached itself from the discussion of Greta’s hopes and dreams. Archie was used to these shifts. They happened more and more often, as Rufus healed and regained the gifts that had put him in the archaeological spotlight before his terrible war. He was standing with his hands in his pockets now, to all appearances just a tired man at the end of a long journey, but his eyes were shining. With one hand he indicated first the great stag’s skull, just visible through the doorway to the hall, and then the painting over the fireplace – George Mount, the vast hilltop labyrinth he had discovered, now visited by historians, folklorists and historians from all over the world. He caught and held Archie’s gaze, smiling. “Look.”
Archie couldn’t look anywhere else. After a moment, Giles said, quietly, “Thank you, then, Squire Thorne. Dr Denby. I’ll go and help the ladies unpack.”
He strode away. Archie allowed himself a moment to wonder at his powerful movements, the air of sheer masculinity that had brought his polar opposites, the flickering, glittering moths, to flutter around his flame. Then he focused on Rufus. “You’ve discovered something.”
“Yes. Isn’t it strange? I could do this before the war, but only occasionally. Then when it all got knocked out of me, and I came to Droyton and...” His voice shook slightly. “And you put it back, you must have added something extra. Because now it happens all the time.”
Archie restrained himself fiercely. Rufus’s gift for landscape archaeology, for picking out a site without so much as sinking a trench or turning a trowel-ful of soil, had flown them both off to all the round Earth’s imagined corners. Then he saw that Giles had carefully, lovingly closed the door behind him, and he crossed the lily-patterned carpet in four big steps and pulled him into his arms. “Rufus. Dear fellow. Thank God you’re home.”
Sweater Weather by Lorelei M Hart & Aria Grace
1
Stewart
“Craft supplies...check.” I made a giant check on my list. There was something very satisfying about that marking on each line. I was ready.
“Lulu, things are going to work out just fine.” I reached down to pet my purring baby. She came with the place and decided that she’d let me stay as long as I didn’t disobey her. I was the first to admit, she was queen of the house—or in this case, the inn. “I’m not saying this will be as amazing as Aunt Bea’s Christmases were, but we’ve got this under control.”
I set my notepad down and went up to my quarters to get ready for our first guests. Aunt Bea had run this place for decades, finally shutting the door to guests a couple years before her death. Somehow, in the crazy game of who got what from her estate, I ended up the owner of the inn.
Everyone assumed I’d sell it for the money.
I mean, who would want a huge house when they were so single they couldn’t remember RSVPing plus one to anything in years? And besides, I had a degree that could get me a nice cushy office job. I’d be a fool to do anything else.
It was official. I was a fool.
I loved this place when I was growing up. Christmases in the living room with a huge tree, all the cousins running around, the adults all discussing things we didn't care about. All except Aunt Bea. She talked about different types of snow and the best ways to make hot cocoa and how Santa liked this place best because the chimney was so large.
I really missed her.
“Enough of that, Lulu. We are going to have an amazing Christmas.”
I spent the next few hours making sure each room was perfect. I’d had a couple test run weekends with a guest or two, but this was the first one with six rooms filled. And while it didn’t sound like much, given the place had a total of twelve rooms, it was a lot.
Especially for such a special time of year.
Most of the people said they were staying here so they could be close, but not too close, to their relatives for the holiday. But two of the rooms held guests here to celebrate the holiday in its entirety, and it was for them that I had some extra fun surprises planned including DIY hot chocolate bombs. Based on my test run, they took a lot more DIY effort than they were worth, but people love the experience, right?
Rooms deemed perfect, I set out to get the final groceries. I had enough food at the inn to feed my guests for a couple weeks. It was one of the things my aunt listed in the journal she left on how to run the place.
You never know when a guest will change their plans or have a food issue you need to work around. Keep your pantry and freezer packed.
She’d told me more than once she was going to write a book and publish it so all the little inns and B&Bs across the country wouldn’t be going under now that there were all the private house rental options. I had a feeling this was the start of that project. It was almost complete, and I had half a notion to type it up and print it myself so she could have her book. I wasn’t sure how much it would help with all the private rental competition, but it would make her smile from wherever she was.
The grocery store parking lot was packed. I had to circle around three times to find a parking spot. I almost gave up. I could easily sneak away in the morning for any last-minute necessities. It wasn’t as if people expected innkeepers to be around twenty-four hours a day.
After grabbing a cart from the cart return, I went inside, carefully dodging a few cars on the way. People needed to be more careful. Unfortunately, everyone was in a hurry.
Once I was inside, I made a beeline to the berries. They were one of those ingredients you just needed to pick up at the last minute.
“Sorry,” a man said just a second too late as he crashed into my leg. “I was…” He held up his phone, as if that made it all okay. “My husband was adding things to the list. You know how it is when a storm’s brewing.”
“I’m fine.” It hadn’t hurt so much as startled me, even with the semi-warning. “No worries.” My eyes caught his overflowing basket. “What was it you said about a storm?” I’d checked the weather the night before, and it looked like the worst of it was going to miss us. In a way, it was sad. Who doesn’t like a white Christmas?
“There was a shift, and the snow that was going to miss us...isn’t.”
“I don’t mind the snow.” Actually, I kind of loved it. That did explain all the people, though. I’d put money on the bread aisle being empty. For some reason, people equated snow with a need for all the bread.
“I do too, but this is looking more like rain and potentially freezing rain at that.” His face squished up.
I found it hard to believe. It was, after all, sweater weather. This was just people panicking over nothing. “May the weather people be wrong, as they often are.” I smiled and went back to filling my cart with berries, bananas, and clementines.
From there, I swung around to the baking aisle to grab a few jars of cloves. If we were going to be stuck inside, I needed something to replace our pinecone walk with and DIY pomanders sounded like they would be just the ticket. They smelled wonderful and required little instruction.
I ended up putting a dozen other things I didn’t really need into my cart as I slowly wove through the store thinking, wrongly so, that if I dawdled, the lines wouldn’t be so bad. As usual, my errand took a lot longer than I’d anticipated. But that was probably good. It kept my anxiety over whether everything was perfect a little less on the forefront.
Lulu was at the door, waiting for me, when I came in with my first armfuls of groceries. “I wasn’t even gone that long.”
She mewed.
“Let me get the groceries in, and then I can give you all the love you’ve obviously been missing with me being gone a whole two hours. I don’t know how you survive such treatment.”
She circled my legs, not caring that I could easily trip over her. She wanted attention and she wanted it now. It was pretty much her way.
I set the bags down and started to go back out the door when the phone began to ring. Something told me it was not a happy call.
That something was right.
Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
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D. G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they've created with you.
D.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors
D.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn't see gender, race, or sexuality.
Annabelle Jacobs lives in the South West of England with three rowdy children, and two cats. An avid reader of fantasy herself for many years, Annabelle now spends her days writing her own stories. They're usually either fantasy or paranormal fiction, because she loves building worlds filled with magical creatures, and creating stories full of action and adventure. Her characters may have a tough time of it—fighting enemies and adversity—but they always find love in the end.
Bestselling British author Harper Fox has established herself as a firm favourite with readers of M/M romance. Harper Fox has become a well-loved go-to author for fans of M/M romance. Here you’ll find immersive tales of excitement, magic, drama, all underpinned by the ordinary processes of love, hope and loss in an imperfect world.
Harper has garnered critical acclaim for novels such as Scrap Metal, Brothers of the Wild North Sea, Seven Summer Nights and The Salisbury Key. She is also creator of the enduringly popular Tyack & Frayne mystery series. Many of her ebooks are also available in paperback and audio format. She runs her own publishing imprint, FoxTales Publications. You can find news of her current projects and full backlist at her website.
A northerner at heart, Harper has returned to her native Northumberland after a spell in Cornwall. She travels between the two as often as she can, and feels she has a home in both magical kingdoms. She is married to Jane, and owned by three cats.
Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
Born and raised in beautiful California, Aria enjoys the year round sunshine and laid back environment of the west coast. Her career started out in tech writing and web development and has evolved into all things marketing with fingers in everything related to book publishing.
She lives with her husband and two children and more pets than she can keep track of. Despite her crazy schedule, she loves the time she carves out to read and write. Whether it’s on the beach or on the couch at 2am, she is a woman obsessed!
She loves to hear from readers so please feel free to drop her a note.
If you’d like to know when Aria’s next book is coming out or where she’ll be signing, join her mailing list.
Brigham Vaughn
SMASHWORDS / PINTEREST / SCRIBd / B&N
EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com
DG Carothers
EMAIL: Info@DGCarothers.com
Annabelle Jacobs
EMAIL: ajacobsfiction@gmail.com
EMAIL: harperfox777@yahoo.co.uk
Lorelei M Hart
EMAIL: Lorelei@mpregwithhart.com
Preston's Christmas Escape by Brigham Vaughn
T.A.G. Family Christmas by DG Carothers
A No-Strings Noel by Annabelle Jacobs
Squire Archie's Rectory Christmas by Harper Fox
B&N / iTUNES / SMASHWORDS
KOBO / WEBSITE / GOODREADS TBR
Sweater Weather by Lorelei M Hart & Aria Grace
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