Summary:
Single Dads #3.5
Hiring Paul is the best thing I’ve done for my small family. With love, care, and ruthless organizational skills Paul has taken care of my children, Anna, AJ, and Aden, with me as part of the deal. He always told me he’d only stay two years and that he wanted to travel the world, but it didn’t stop me falling in love with him. I never told him, because who am I to steal his dreams? Now he’s handed his resignation to me so I have a decision to make. He’s leaving us and I can either tell him I love him and ask him to stay, or watch him go.
I have only one Christmas to make things right.
A short story based in the Single Dads ‘verse.
This story originally appeared in the ‘Gifts for the Season’ Anthology with a host of other authors, which in Christmas 2020, raised over $20,000 for The Trevor Project.
What a lovely holiday gem, you've got two men who haven't spoken about their feelings, most likely hoping the other speaks first, lack of communication can be tricky to pull off but when done right it's one of my favorite tropes. I've always said there is nothing sexier than a man who cares for children and in Single Dad Christmas you have a father AND a manny(male nanny for any newbies out there😉) so it's two-for-one in the sexy male role. You know what? That's all I'm going to say because this is a holiday novella you need to experience for yourself to fully appreciate how it warms the heart and puts a smile on your face and for those familiar with RJ Scott's Single Dad series, it's a great addition to said series. Short, sweet, fun, and simply put: a delight.
RATING:
RATING:
Summary:
This Christmas, two worlds collide...
Edward Kirby is a big-city surgeon who’s worked himself toward an early grave. On his way to Wisconsin for some enforced R&R, a snowstorm hits--leaving Edward injured, stranded, and more stressed than ever.
Stephen Jackson is an all-American cowboy--and a virgin. He’s overwhelmed with work, trying to keep the family farm from falling into financial collapse, when Edward ends up renting a room at his ranch. He has no idea how to handle the attraction he feels towards the handsome, wealthy man. They come from opposite worlds, but could love find a way to make it work?
Bundle up under the covers and let Riley Knight warm your heart with this burning hot 50,000 word gay romance, intended for adult audiences only. Merry Christmas!
Summary:
The Dates of Our Lives #10
Sometimes it’s the reindeer that delivers the Christmas surprise.
Alpha and bear shifter Soren has had nothing but bad luck using Love and Hate, the dating app his bestie convinced him to try. And really, what does it matter? He’s perfectly happy being alone. That is, until his den Beta asks him to take his spot at the holiday gala, one where he’s expected to have a plus one. Maybe he’ll give the app a chance.
Omega reindeer shifter Lennon loves being a reindeer shifter—until the holiday season arrives. Inevitably, someone asks him to pose for pictures with Santa or be on display at an event. He just wants to curl up at his family’s cabin with a cup of hot cocoa, chat with strangers on the internet, and wait for the holidays to be over.
When Lennon is asked to attend a Christmas party by someone he matches with on his dating app, he almost turns him down, but something stops him. This one seems special. Maybe he can suck it up for one holiday shindig. Who knows, it might lead to love.
Spoiler alert: It leads to love.
Matched for Christmas is the holiday companion book from the sweet with heat Dates of Our Lives series, an M/M mpreg shifter dating app romance brought to you by the popular co-writing duo of Lorelei M. Hart and Colbie Dunbar. It features a reindeer sick of being asked if he works for Santa, a bear—ready to give up on love and willing to settle for a date to the gala, too much eggnog, not enough cookies (because there never are enough), and adorable cat, an unexpected snowstorm, true love, and a guaranteed happy ever after. If you like your shifters unusual, your omegas hawt, your mpreg with heart, and your HEAs complete with true mates and a bundle of joy, one-click today.
Summary:
Thrust into Love #4
Christian Kringle: College professor, reluctant Santa, and...fake dating my neighbor?
I'm a grinch and proud of it--but this year, there’s no avoiding the Christmas cheer.
First, I get roped into playing Santa. Shudder. Then, while trying to dodge a setup with my boss's brother, I somehow promise to attend a holiday party with my boyfriend--who doesn't exist.
Next thing I know, my (soon-to-be former) best friend has set up a profile on a hookup app to find me a date. With the username of.... wait for it... SantaWantsYourChimney.
Go ahead and laugh. He sure did, the traitor.
Before I can delete the profile, I match with an easygoing guy with amazing photos. His teasing about Santa kink makes me laugh, and blush, and feel things I haven't since my divorce. For the first time in years, I look forward to dating.
Until we meet, and he turns out to be my neighbor. My very young, very off-limits neighbor who I've clashed with for years. Only now I know just how sexy, charming, and sweetly devoted to his daughter he is.
I should walk away, but I still need that fake boyfriend. The only problem? Jaxson's so convincing I can't tell where the pretense ends and real feelings begin.
Falling for him is easy. Loving his daughter? Effortless. Trusting that I can keep them is the hard part.
It'll take the magic of love, family, and yes--even Christmas--to teach this old grinch new tricks.
Sexted By Santa is a standalone holiday romance set in the Thrust Into Love universe.
Summary:
The Script Club #4
The Mars maestro, the single dad, and a wish list…
Chet-
Boy, am I lucky! Finding a living situation with a houseful of passionate scientists just before the holidays is ideal in every possible way. As the newest member of the Script Club, I feel it’s important to step up and tackle the to-do list my friends would prefer to avoid. Item one, address the tutoring request from the neighborhood-hottie-slash-single-dad on the next block. I’ve got this!
Or do I?
Handsome, older, sporty gentlemen intimidate me. And Mr. McSwoony doesn’t like the holidays. This may be a daunting task.
Sam-
What do you do when a new neighbor shows up on your doorstep with cookies and a wacky plan to spread holiday cheer? I don’t need cheer, but I could use help with some of the experiments my son wants to try. I know football, not science. Hopefully, I can talk Chet into a mutually beneficial trade. The only snag is that I’m seriously attracted to my local Mars expert. He’s unintentionally charming…in the very best way.
Don’t quote me, but maybe this holiday elf with thick glasses and a mile-long list might be exactly what I need.
The Holiday List is an MM bisexual, geek/jock romance with a holiday twist featuring a lovable scientist and a single dad who’s probably on the naughty list!
Random Tales of Christmas 2021
Single Dad Christmas by RJ Scott
Austin
I couldn’t stop staring at the photo.
It was of Paul, my manny for two years now, sitting on the sofa in our front room, my three babies all curled up around him fast asleep. The triplets had only been eight months at that time; Anna had been teething, Aden and AJ had spent an hour wailing in sympathy, and Paul had been up all night, alongside me, soothing and rocking and loving the three of them. I’d snapped a photo of him and the triplets asleep, because in all the chaos created by my beautiful children, that’d been a rare moment of peace.
Had I fallen in love with him that night?
I didn’t know for sure but it could well have been that day when the first seed had been planted of my wanting Paul as something more than my children’s nanny.
For two years, Paul had cared for the triplets with a gentle touch, and me alongside that. Somehow, I’d continued to hand my heart to him in tiny pieces, until at Thanksgiving the words I’d held inside spilled out. The children were in bed, the day had been busy, we’d had nothing to do but watch a movie and drink chocolate, and he’d fallen asleep, slid sideways and slept against me.
I didn’t take a photo but I did whisper the words that were in my heart. I love you.
It was the only time I’d been honest with him, and myself. But a month later I couldn’t say the words out loud for a million reasons that used to make sense. And now I was hiding out in my office and I couldn’t focus on anything but the letter perched on the corner of my desk. That damned piece of paper was the reason my chest was tight with the crushing inevitability of my heart breaking. Across the front of the envelope Paul had written my name in beautiful cursive and the edges of it were ragged where I’d opened it, thinking it was nothing more sinister than one of his homemade Christmas cards, like the ones he made with the children. But it wasn’t a card covered in glitter, or embellished with feathers, it was his resignation letter. Even though I’d known that the two years he’d promised me were almost up, I’d ignored the fact because maybe if I refused to acknowledge he was getting ready to leave, then it might not happen.
I’d memorized every word Paul had written, from the Dear Austin, right down to the Best wishes, Paul and even the part where he thanked me for the wonderful opportunity I’d given him.
He’d left it on the counter three days ago, right next to the coffee he’d made, and the muffin he’d baked fresh for me, and I’d been in a daze ever since.
“Oh babe, why are you still here?” Maria’s question scared the living shit out of me, and I yelped and nearly fell off my office chair, clutching my heart and scrambling to face her.
“Holy— warn a guy!”
She switched on my office light and I blinked into the brightness. “Austin, sitting in the dark won’t solve anything.”
I knew that. “I was working on—”
“You’re not working, you’re hiding.” She leaned on the edge of my desk, conveniently hip-checking the envelope and its contents to the floor before pushing it with her toe out of sight. Part of me died inside, because I wanted to keep that letter after he’d gone, because he’d written it with one of his fancy art pens, and I could picture him sitting and composing the words. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at me pointedly.
I went on the defensive. “I’m here because the kids are working on a surprise for me, and Paul made me promise not to be anywhere near the kitchen before five,” I scooped up the papers on my desk and shoved them all into my bag. With nothing else to do, and January far too close, I knew I had to start planning for a future without Paul, and these were supposed to be informed and researched lists of nanny agencies. Only the exercise had deteriorated into me doodling hearts. So much for admitting he was leaving and that I needed to replace him.
She sighed noisily then flicked my forehead which— dammit— hurt. “It’s nearly five now, Austin, you idiot.”
“Huh?” I glanced at the clock, and it hit me that I’d lost my chance of being home by five if the traffic on the freeway didn’t cut me a break. It’s December twenty-third; of course there will be no break cut for late-ass architects who don’t watch the time. “Shit.”
“When Paul said leave the kitchen, did he really mean for you to come to work? Why didn’t you just go up to your room and read a book? No one else is working today, so why drive twenty miles across town to the office?”
Because I can’t bear being in the house listening to the kids laugh with Paul over Christmas cookies and glitter, that’s why. I snapped the fastening on my bag and changed the subject. “You’re here.”
“Yes, because we agreed I would check in with the office today because it’s my turn. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be on official vacation.”
“I have three whole days when I’m not working—”
She snatched the bag from my hand, and shoved me toward the door.
“Three days off and you don’t need to take work home.”
“The Griersons—”
“Are in Barbados, and don’t need to see any plans until January. You weren’t working on their file anyway, you were sitting like a mushroom in the dark and pining over the only man you’ve ever really loved, and you won’t do anything to stop him leaving.”
I winced. “I was not pining, for goodness sake.”
I held out my hand for the bag, but she put it behind her back. “Yes you were.”
“Give me the bag, Maria—”
“Nope.”
“My cell is in there,” I lied.
She pointed to my pants pocket where the outline of my iPhone was very clear. “No it isn’t. So, go home, kiss your babies, have a drink with Paul, hell, talk to Paul, tell him how you feel, ask him to stay. Then when he says yes, have the best Christmas in the history of Christmases.”
“Maria—”
“You need to be honest. With him and yourself.”
Country Christmas by Riley Knight
One
Even now, it was so tempting just to turn the car around and go. Somewhere, anywhere else, as long as it had art galleries and restaurants and hotels of at least four stars. Some place with civilization, where the streets were salted if it snowed and not allowed just to pile up into huge white mounds everywhere. A city, in other words, not this rural nightmare.
He was going to have to call, to plead his case. To demand, if he had to, that his boss take him back. It wasn’t like he was the only surgeon in the world with a bit of stress, he grumbled to himself, as he fiddled with the radio and tried to get a clear signal. Hell, it pretty much went along with the job, and Edward had never heard of anyone else being forced out of the hospital.
Rest and recover, that had been what he had been told, the jovial tone of his boss Amy’s voice belied by the serious expression in her dark, flat eyes. No matter how much she tried to make it seem like nothing but a suggestion, it had been made clear very quickly that Edward didn’t have a choice.
“What the fuck is resting and recovering about this hellhole?” Edward growled, finally giving up on getting any reception. It was all static, and even if he did manage to get a signal, it was probably all country music crap. Did they even listen to classic rock in Wisconsin?
He knew nothing about this place and had never wanted to. He’d heard some things about cheese, lots and lots of cheese, and butter, and probably redneck cowboys to herd all of these busy cows who were squirting out all this milk. But Amy’s brother Albert had some sort of ranch or something in the area, and when Edward had been kicked out of the hospital, it had seemed like as good a place as any if he had to be away from civilization.
Him, Edward Kirby, on a ranch. His colleagues must be rolling around in the hospital halls laughing their asses off, picturing him around cows. And dirt. Neither of those were things that Edward tried to spend a lot of time around in general.
And it was more than that, too. With an irritated flick of his wrist, Edward snapped the radio off and settled down to drive in annoyed silence. Maybe it had been a mistake to drive here, after all. His boss had approved, though, and he had thought that maybe that would be enough rest and relaxation for her. If he were very, very lucky, perhaps she would even tell him that he had done enough, that he could come back to where he belonged to get to work.
December was always bad for the ER, and one of the worst parts was, Edward knew that he had work to do, that him not being there would mean longer wait times. Amy knew that, too, so why was she doing this?
As he drove, his visibility dropped down more as the snow thickened, but he barely noticed. Too busy fuming about how he would lose prestige, how he would no longer be considered for head surgeon. How people would maybe even die because he wasn’t there to help.
Outside, the wind had picked up. Even in his funk, Edward couldn’t help but notice that the car was starting to creak and list to the side, tending to veer off if he didn’t keep strict attention. And once he did, he did not like what he was seeing.
As he’d been fuming, as he’d lost himself in self-pity, the weather had abruptly turned terrible. It had been snowing on and off the whole time he’d been in this God-forsaken state, but now, there was what looked like nearly a solid white sheet hanging over his windshield, the flakes falling so thick and fast that his windshield wipers weren’t able to dash them away as quickly as they would land again.
That all would have been bad enough, without the wind, but the wind was turning what should have been just a thick snowfall into what he would call a blizzard, a full on white out. He literally could not see a few feet beyond his car, though he logically knew that outside there were farms and barns and probably some very cold cows, he could see none of it.
He could be alone in the world, and he wouldn’t know. It was an eerie thought. What if the whole world had been sucked away, and it was just him left? Not useful thoughts to have, not when he was trying to drive, to keep the car on the road, but sometimes his mind was too creative and just a little bit paranoid for his own good.
Although why? Logically speaking, was there any point in continuing on? He was trying to find the ranch where Albert was expecting him, but in this weather, he might have driven right by it and had absolutely no idea. The world had shrunk down alarmingly, just him and the laboring car, artificially warm because of the heater, and a small area of a couple of feet on all sides of the car. That was it.
Maybe the best thing to do would be to stop, to wait it out. The snow was already dragging at the wheels of his BMW, which labored valiantly on, but it seemed like it might be a losing battle.
The idea had merit. Wait out the storm. Get going again when it would be possible to see once more. Only the more he thought about it, the more he was pretty sure he didn’t like it.
For one thing, it was getting dark. Sunset would be about, what, five-thirty or six at the latest at this time of year? And the glowing readout of the time on the dash informed him that it was just after five already. Being out in the cold would be bad enough, but what about if his battery, used to run the heater, died?
The storm showed no signs of abating in the slightest. And Edward, his worried mind coming up with the worst case scenarios, had to admit that, if he stopped, he might not be able to start again. His tires might be buried too deeply, since at the moment, the forward momentum, slow as it was, was all that was keeping them free at all.
So he had to stay moving, or risk freezing to death. Which would not, he had to note bitterly, be great for Amy’s plan of him resting and relaxing. Although come to think of it, death was pretty relaxing, he figured. A little more relaxed than he wanted to be, but maybe then Amy would be happy.
It was sort of funny, almost ironic, that he should be thinking about death when his struggling tires found a patch of black ice that had been completely hidden by the drifting snow. At the same time, the strongest gust of wind yet gripped his car, and even as much attention as Edward was paying to the road, as tight as his grip was on the steering wheel, control was stolen from him as his car was pushed right off of the slippery concrete, over the shoulder of the road.
For Edward, the world outside seemed to flip and spin crazily, his stomach clenching as he realized that he had no control. At all. His car was in the grip of something bigger than him, something that, no matter how much he pushed his willpower against, he wasn’t going to be able to change.
There had been a few moments over the years, not many but a few, where Edward had had this dizzy, sickening feeling, this lack of control. A few patients that he, despite his hours of work on them, had still lost. A fire in the elevator of his condo building, though luckily that had started just after he’d stepped off of it. He had smelled the smoke that had heralded the fire, but even when he’d called for help, he hadn’t been able to stop it.
The worse one, before now, anyway, was the moment when he had gotten a call from his father. His mother, the other man had said, had been hit by a drunk driver while coming back from a meeting of her book club. He had come up behind her, had been so blind, stinking drunk on whiskey that he hadn’t even seen her there, and had rear-ended her right into the car in front of her. Her car had been squashed between the two of them, utterly obliterated, and death, his father had informed him in his cold, remote voice, must have been instantaneous.
Funny, in a way, that his own death was going to happen in a car accident, too. Funny? Or terrible? Maybe both, Edward decided, and his hands gripped futilely, uselessly, at the steering wheel. He may as well be trying to hold back the rising tide with a sieve, for all the help he was being to himself, but he didn’t have it in him just to give up and accept what was happening. He had never been the type to give in.
Maybe the car flipped. Edward wasn’t sure since the view outside his window didn’t change. It was all white, clear, cold, terrifying, blurring his vision while his inner ears spun and his stomach clenched into a hard little ball, eyes staring as though he could somehow penetrate it.
His life didn’t flash before his eyes or anything like that. There was no white light, even though more than a few people who he had operated on had reported symptoms like that when they died on the operating table, but had been brought back. Maybe he was just too practical, too logical. Too fixated on trying to pull himself back onto the relative safety of the road.
He heard the sickening thud as the hood of his car impacted the tree, which he could only barely see through the lace of snow on his windshield. His body tensed, but physics would not be denied, and even when his car was abruptly stopped, no amount of tensing his body could keep it from continuing forward.
It could have been much, much worse. If he hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt, he would have probably flown right into the windshield, or maybe even through it. As it was, he was held more or less in place in his seat, the sharp click of the seat belt locking filling the air, somehow more vivid than the crunch of tortured metal.
His head flew forward, slamming into the steering wheel, the pain almost secondary, at least right then. It did hurt, but his panicking body protected him from it, and the last thing that occurred to him was that it was pretty fucking hilarious, if he thought about it too much.
The airbag deployed a split second after his forehead hit the steering wheel. Was this it? Was he going to die because of a defective airbag? It was so terrible that he couldn’t even help but snort softly, even as the world was going dim around the edges. Grimly, he hung on to consciousness, gripping at it as firmly as he could.
But it slipped away from him, and he had heard about how it felt to pass out from head trauma, like slipping down into black waters. And that, he now knew, from first-hand experience, was pretty damn accurate. Smooth, irresistible, bottomless black waters, while the white snow swirled around him.
The sound of the metal twisting and tearing died down, but just before Edward surrendered, he slightly frowned as he heard a different noise, quieter, but somehow more piercing.
Was that the sound of a scared animal whining just outside his door?
Matched for Christmas by Lorelei M Hunt & Colbie Dunbar
1
Lennon
“I know you’re probably booked…” Petré hesitated.
I just closed my eyes and waited for the but.
My neighbor owned a small candy shop in town and I already knew what was next. He wanted me to be a freaking prop for his holiday sale. Too cheap to get a Santa? Just ask the resident reindeer. Why did I have to live in a town with so many shifters?
“But I was thinking about my Black Friday sale and didn’t know if maybe you might want to hang out at the shop for a bit?” He looked so hopeful I almost felt bad turning him down.
Almost.
Last year I ended up doing eight events in my hooves. The year before, more than that. All because one time I agreed to help a photographer friend, and the photos were not only amazing, they made it to national photography magazines. And really, that was all the photographer. All I did was stand there and not bite the kids when they decided to pull on my antlers.
Come to think of it, that was a pretty darn amazing feat.
“I…I…” Petré’s face fell when I paused, as if sensing the impending rejection.
If I was going to cave for anyone, it would be him. He was a nice old man and his candy shop did have the best treats around. Still… “Let me look at my schedule and see if I’ll be in town.”
“Thank you.” He hugged me and the guilt started to overcome me, making me agree to come and even give rides to the little ones.
And then he added, “We’re thinking of doing a whole reindeer themed event on the block.”
“The block?” If he meant the toy store and the bakery too, that was too much. As it was, the overflow would be great, but with their combined advertising power… no. Just no.
“Yes,” continued Petré. “Maybe hire a Santa and someone to take Polaroids and have a coloring contest.”
“Let me get back to you. I need to call my family and see what’s up.”
He nodded like a bobble head, assuming my family would be all over this, and really, if they were still in town politics, they might be. But my mom left the school board years ago and my father had been good and done with the whole mayor thing when he stopped running a few years back.
It was funny thinking about that. We left our herd when I was a baby because my parents hated internal politics, and ended up in a town where half the residents were shifters, and then my folks ran for and held public office.
And of course, it was easy for them to say I should help out people at Christmas and do it “for the community” when they were white-tailed deer and I was the recessive reindeer in the bunch. It was cool growing up. Now that people wanted me to be Santa’s helper… not so much.
I gave Petré a half wave and we parted ways. I went inside to see my cat, Snowflake, waiting for me near the shoe rack.
“Did you think Daddy forgot about you?” I bent down to pet her. That wasn’t enough. She wanted to be held. “Okay, Miss Lazy. Daddy will carry you.” I held her close and walked into the kitchen. She thought me coming home meant meal time, and it did, but it was also medicine time. I hated having to give her the injections, but they worked, and unlike me, she didn’t seem to care at all.
“Let’s get you dinner.” I set her down and went about getting her meal.
I opened the can of her special food, and really, it smelled pretty good. She was purring and circling around my legs as I put it in her dish, and the second it was placed on her mat, she devoured it.
“It’s shot time,” I told her as she was about to eat the last nibble. She didn’t even look up, not at my words or at the shot itself.
“You’re the best cat.” I scratched behind her ears. “Now it’s time for Daddy to eat.”
I opened the fridge, and it was a sad sight. I could whip up a cheese omelet, but that was about it. The freezer was no better, its offerings all ice cream related. That left pasta and jarred sauce.
“Snowflake, I hate to feed you and run, but I need to do some serious grocery shopping.” I grabbed my keys, and the second she heard them, off she went in diva fashion. “I’ll bring you back something fun,” I promised. Gone were the days of treats thanks to her diabetes, but catnip was still on the table.
Racing to my car so I wouldn’t have to face Petré again, I drove to the local market. It was never a good idea to shop while hungry, but I wanted to get home, call my folks to give them a heads up they were my excuse to turn shit down, and then eat my dinner.
I made it three quarters of the way through the store before I ran into Hal, the cougar shifter and new mayor. I could feel the question coming before he finished saying, “Hello, Lennon.”
“Nice to see you, Mayor Hal.” I grabbed a can of I didn’t even know what off the shelf to give him the impression I was really focused on my task at hand and maybe give him second thoughts about asking me in a public place where there were humans.
But did that work? Nope.
“Did you hear about the Tree Lighting Festival we’re having this year. I thought—” and I cut him right off.
I felt like a scrooge or what have you, but being on display like that was just icky, and I didn’t want to do it this year. I’d done my time and was ready to just have a nice relaxing holiday, and that was when the lie hit me.
“I was so bummed to hear it was happening after I left for the season.” His jaw snapped closed. “I’m hoping my parents can take some pictures.”
“There will be, ummm… yes, it will be grand.” He started to move his cart. “I’ll let you get back to your shopping.”
“Thanks, Mayor Hal.” I gave him a nod and went on my way, sure to keep my head down the rest of the shopping expedition.
It wasn’t until I was checking out that I saw what can I had tossed in my cart: mac and cheese. I loved mac and cheese as much, if not more than most people, but not from a can. Nope.
I dialed my parents as soon as I climbed in the car, putting it on speaker.
“We were just talking about you.” Very much not the way I wanted my mother to answer the phone.
“About what an amazing son I am,” I teased as I turned out of the lot.
“About this holiday season.”
“Did Petré already call you?” That didn’t take him long. But then again, he was trying to score my free services for an entire block of stores. He was invested in getting me to commit.
“No. Is he going to call us too?” She sounded as confused as I was, just about different things.
“Who called you, Mom?”
“Gail from the library. She didn’t know if I had connections to the farmer who had, quote, ‘the good reindeer.’” And that’s what I got for having my parents drive my horned self to the events to make it look legit to the humans. Now even those who didn’t know it was me were looking for me. “Said they want to do a Christmas around the world party and have you there along with Santa and some elves.”
“Please tell me you told her the farmer moved.” I turned onto my street.
“Of course not. I said that I would look into it. I thought you liked being the town reindeer.” Did she really not remember?
“No, Mom. Do I like making kids happy and their Christmas brighter? Absolutely. I’d bake cookies, read stories, and even make glittery projects with them. But being my reindeer for them? It’s just… no. I don’t like it, and that’s really why I called.” Here went nothing. “I want to stay at the cabin this season.”
Our family vacation cabin was far enough away I had an excuse not to come back to town and do the events and close enough I could see my family if I wanted. It was also closer to the city, and there was so much there to explore. It was a win win.
“I was thinking I could work on the ever growing fix it list,” I added on to sweeten the whole thing up.
I pulled into my driveway, but left the car running. I didn't want to have this conversation outside where Petré might overhear when taking out the dog.
“Is it that bad?”
“I’m already feeling sick thinking about it. Last year a kid puked on me… and another tried to climb up my thigh using my tail as a means of leverage.” How he even got such a good hold of the tiny thing was beyond me. “I just need a year off. Maybe next year I can be all merry about it again.”
“I didn’t know. There was puke?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Then you absolutely need to fix up the cabin. Your dad and I need that list addressed immediately.” Moms were the best. At least mine was. “Come home for Christmas, though?”
“Orrrr… you could come to the cabin like we did when I was a kid.”
She squeed so loud. “I can’t wait to tell your father. It’s been so long. Will you be fine with work?”
“I have four weeks use or lose left as well as three weeks banked time. If they don’t want me working remotely I can just use that.” I usually did take December off anyways. I normally stayed in town and played reindeer games.
Not this year.
This year I was going to paint, fix loose floorboards, move the firewood to the other side of the house, and whatever else was on this to-do list. It was going to be boring, and I could not wait.
Sexted by Santa by DJ Jamison
I finally opened the app that Barry had installed on my phone.
Time to change this ridiculous profile—or maybe delete it altogether.
There were a handful of notifications. Huh. I had some match requests, more than I would have expected given the lack of any real photos on my account. But my notifications also included men who had accepted my request—a neat trick since I hadn’t made any yet.
Barry, you scoundrel…
I should delete the whole lot of them. Why would a normal guy go for this Santa schtick? With great skepticism, I took a peek at one of the messages.
I want to ride Santa’s pole!
Charming. I checked the guy’s stats. He was older, at fifty, but clearly not mature, as my profile—well, the one Barry had written for me, at any rate—had requested. He wasn’t bad looking, slim but handsome. His user name, Best_You’ll_Ever_Have, didn’t encourage me. It was too close to my ex-husband’s brand of ego. Fynn was beautiful, and he knew it. He’d used it to his advantage on more than occasion. But when that didn’t work…Oh, he became furious. His ego was huge but fragile. Even for a single date to a work party, I wanted a guy who’d be a little more even-keeled. The last thing I needed was some ridiculous drama playing out in front of my colleagues.
I bypassed him to review another match. This one in his sixties.
If you’re tired of naughty boys, maybe Santa needs a Daddy.
Nope. Delete.
I picked through a few more, not overly impressed with the offerings—until I reached CasualDad.
I almost passed him by—until I realized this wasn’t another Daddy wannabe. This was an actual dad. Was that good? Not for anything serious—I wouldn’t know the first thing about dealing with a kid—but luckily I only needed a date to a party. No commitment required.
I checked his profile for red flags.
It read: I’m a dad first. Just looking to relieve some stress and have fun. Open to casual dating, but I don’t have the time or energy for anything serious.
Well, that sounded perfect. Plus, he’d accepted a match request Barry sent on my behalf—rather than seeking me out—so perhaps he wasn’t a weirdo turned on by a pixelated Santa. Why he’d accepted the request was a still a mystery though. Maybe he didn’t see it actually going anywhere. Why would he, when the guy requesting a match was a fictional person?
CasualDad’s pics were enticing.
He had a broad, firm chest with script over his pecs that read Love leaves no room for regret. A nice sentiment, though I didn’t know if I agreed. My love for Fynn had created plenty of regret. But I didn’t have to agree with the man’s tattoo to take him on a date. Preferably, a date that ended very pleasurably for us both.
I’d gotten on this app to find a date to a work party, but these pictures reminded me that my body had its own needs, which had been ignored for some time now. Maybe I could get more than arm candy for a boring night with my colleagues out of this.
My mouth watered as I studied the various pics showing his chest and stomach, not overly muscled but solid. There was no direct face shot, but there was one shot of him in profile. He had nearly shoulder-length hair, which was blowing across his face. Water—maybe a lake—filled the background of the image. I could just make out the edge of his smile—and it was mischievous, maybe a little amused by someone off camera.
Jaxson Hicks flashed through my mind for a split second. His smile as he took pot shots at my Santa performance had that same edge of mischief. But I shut that thought down. I’d set my filters to hide anyone under thirty-five—and a quick look at CasualDad’s profile confirmed he met that threshold. Jaxson was much younger. He’d dropped out of college about seven years ago. If my math was correct, he would be somewhere around twenty-six or twenty-seven.
Even if he were old enough, Jaxson and I had never been anything but oil and water since we’d first met as student and adviser. He hadn’t liked what I’d had to say, and the feeling had been mutual.
Better to focus on this guy in front of me. This delicious-looking guy.
I decided to send him a quick message.
Hey, there. I like your pics and your profile. You seem like someone I’d like to know better, maybe over drinks? Apologies for the ridiculous username and profile. I’ll update soon.
His response came just as I was putting aside my reading for the night and turning off the light.
CasualDad: The name gave me a good laugh. If you change it, does that mean you won’t be cleaning my chimney? And is that a euphemism for what I think it is?
I groaned, mentally cursing Barry again.
SantaWantsYourChimney: My jerk of a friend thought it was funny. Obviously I need a new friend. If this doesn’t work out, you can have the spot. As long as you can resist matchmaking and setting up ridiculous profiles for me on dating apps.
CasualDad: That’s a high bar. I don’t know if I can meet it. I kind of want to see where a Santa kink could go 😉
SantaWantsYourChimney: But I hate Santa, and Christmas, and all this seasonal nonsense.
CasualDad: That only makes this name funnier. Now you have to keep it.
I dropped my head back on the pillow. It seemed as if I were destined to play Santa in all aspects of my life. But even I had to admit it had served as a pretty good ice-breaker with CasualDad. His easy teasing made me smile.
Maybe I can keep the name if it means you chat with me again, I typed.
He was quick to reply: Maybe I’ll chat with you again if you send me some sexy Santa pics.
Oh, hell no. Volunteering as Santa was bad enough. But posing for X-rated Santa selfies wasn’t happening. I sent him a reply, then turned off my phone before I could be tempted into embarrassing myself.
Listen, I’m just not that kind of Santa. I don’t rush down anyone’s chimney. But I do hope we can chat again…
When I woke the next morning, the first thing I did was check the Thrust app for his reply.
Hahaha, okay, Santa. We’ll play it your way. Message me again when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.
The Holiday List by Lane Hayes
“Who said I was lonely? I’m not lonely. I’m just tired of being with myself. That’s not the same thing,” I argued.
“Close enough. One thing that helps me fight the blues is an immediate change of scenery,” Chet pronounced with a wide grin.
“Thanks, Doc, but Linc is coming home this week. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t have to physically go anywhere. You can just switch up your routine and add—”
“Let me guess…holiday cheer?”
Chet beamed. “Yes.”
I had to give the guy credit…he was tenacious.
I couldn’t let him think he’d won too easily, though. I furrowed my brow, giving him my best cranky scowl, and huffed. “You really want to decorate my house?”
He frowned. “No. I want to reset your karma. And mine. You’ve done a good deed here tonight, and I owe you one in turn. I also owe my roommates for their kindness.”
“Putting up a tree is going to help your karma?” I snorted.
“And yours.”
Somehow, I doubted that, but I liked the idea of having an excuse to see him again. “Fine. You can decorate my house.”
Chet whooped as he jumped to his feet. “A nice noble fir would look perfect in that corner of your great room near the fireplace. But of course, closer to the window. We don’t want to worry about fire hazards. What’s your ornament situation? I’m happy to purchase some if needed. Simple red and silver balls are always nice and—”
“I’ve got plenty of balls.” I stood, testing my shoulder to be sure I didn’t do any real damage, as I met him at the door. “It’s getting late. We can talk about this later. You seem like the kind of Christmas elf who needs parameters.”
He snickered, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “There might be some truth to that statement.”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not gonna want to wake up in a winter fuckin’ wonderland.”
“Right. Got it.”
I braced my hand on the doorknob, scanning the dimly lit foyer briefly. “Come over Saturday. We can talk about it then. And…you can meet Linc.”
Chet narrowed his eyes. Not gonna lie, his immediate transformation from skinny geek to bad-ass science guy was kinda hot.
“Is this trickery?”
“No, but it might be a good trade. We’ll see.” I shot a lopsided grin his way as I opened the door, pointing at the chair that knocked me on my ass. “This is not an adequate security system. I’ll give you my number. If anything seems suspicious or if you need anything, call me.”
Chet typed my contact info into his cell obediently, then pressed Call so I had his number too. Courtesy complete, he fixed me with a no-nonsense look. “Thank you. For the record, while I appreciate your help tonight, I didn’t agree to—”
“I know, I know.” I stared at him for a long moment.
This had to be one of the oddest yet most interesting nights I’d had in a while. This was probably a good time to remind myself that Chet was my neighbor. My much younger neighbor.
But damn it, he was tempting.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. It was featherlight touch, hardly a real kiss at all. It was just enough to make him blush. Chet’s cheeks pinkened, and a flush rose low on his neck.
“Mr. Rooney…”
“Sam,” I gently reminded him. “Good night.”
Don’t ask me how I did it, but I somehow managed not to turn around as I headed down the pathway and up the street to my house. My lips twitched in amusement, giving way to a smile that grew with every step. When I finally got home, I let it fly, grinning like a madman as I chomped on a rosemary shortbread cookie made by my own personal elf.
Was I vaguely alarmed at the concept of letting him put a bunch of holiday crap up in my house? Fuck, yes, I was. Hot kiss or not, nothing was going to happen between us. And I was okay with that. Mostly.
Maybe he was just the diversion I’d needed, ’cause hanging out at home for the next couple of weeks suddenly didn’t seem so bad.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Riley Knight is an avid reader and has always had a soft spot for gay romances. What could be better than a sweet story between two beautiful men who need each other? It only seemed logical for Riley to write these steamy, emotional romances, focusing on an emotional and happy ending.
When not reading or writing, Riley can be found wandering the landscape and loves to go for long walks and observe all sorts of people and situations.
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 ;).
My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.
Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.
As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?
DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.
Lane Hayes is grateful to finally be doing what she loves best. Writing full-time! It’s no secret Lane loves a good romance novel. An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. These days she prefers the leading roles to both be men. Lane discovered the M/M genre a few years ago and was instantly hooked. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in an almost empty nest.
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Riley Knight
Lorelei M Hart
EMAIL: Lorelei@mpregwithhart.com
Colbie Dunbar
DJ Jamison
EMAIL: authordjjamison@gmail.com
Lane Hayes
EMAIL: lanehayes@ymail.com
Single Dad Christmas by RJ Scott
👀⏳Bookfunnel Limited Time 11/3-12/31⏳👀
Country Christmas by Riley Knight
Matched for Christmas by Lorelei M Hunt & Colbie Dunbar
Sexted by Santa by DJ Jamison
The Holiday List by Lane Hayes
