🎅💕🎅🎆🎄🎇🎄🎆🎅💕🎅
I've wanted to do a Christmas in July series for a few years now but time just didn't seem to agree. I wanted to feature stories that I have recently re-read but once again, time had other plans so for my first Christmas in July series, I'm featuring 20 of my favorite Christmas set LGBT reads. I say "Christmas set" because some are not really holiday-centric but set, at least in part, during the holiday season and for me that is all it takes to be a Christmas read. Some I've had opportunity in the past to re-read or re-listen and I've included the most recent review. As always, the purchase links are current as of posting but if they no longer work for a dozen different reasons, be sure to check out the author's website/social media sites for the latest links. There are genres of all kinds here, whether you are a holiday lover or perhaps you just want to read something set in cooler weather on a long hot summer night, either way there is something for everyone here.
🎅💕🎅🎆🎄🎇🎄🎆🎅💕🎅
Summary:
Betrayed by a lover, Jamie rents an isolated cabin on Lake Huron, wanting only to be left alone. Instead, he is pulled from his solitary existence as an artist and tumbles headlong into the legend of Saint Nicolas.
As a young man, Nicolas accidentally killed a man intent on murdering three children, only to have the man's malicious spirit rise up against him. Fleeing through the centuries from the Krampus, the evil troll-like creature that dogs his steps, Nico finds refuge with the young artist who takes him into his home and bed. But Jamie has questions. Who is Nicolas, and why does the Krampus want to destroy him?
When the Krampus begins to torment and torture anyone Nico comes in contact with to punish him, Jamie's life is put in danger. And Jamie isn't sure whether he can help Nico defeat his nemesis or if he's merely a pawn in the Krampus's game.
If you are looking for something different from the happy, happy holiday reads then Nicolas is the one for you. A delicious blend of good, bad, sexy, torture, mystery, paranormal, and well just about everything in between. I first came across this one when I was doing my paranormal blog posts for Halloween but never had a chance to read it so I stuck it in my holiday folder and loved it from page one. Nico, Piter, & Jamie's connection keeps you enthralled all the way through, I just hated putting it down to eat, I've never rushed through a meal so fast to get back to my Kindle. With the paranormal darkness elements I hate to touch on any specifics so I don't give away any spoilers but let me just say that I am already looking forward to re-reading Nicolas for many holiday seasons to come.
RATING:
Summary:
A Snow Globe Christmas #4
Despite growing up in a family of villains, I’d rather curl up and read than commit crimes. When I get coerced by my brother into helping him rob a bank, I run into August, my childhood crush—also known as Chrono, the city’s greatest superhero. He’s sexy, sweet, and suddenly he’s asking me to Thanksgiving with his parents. It’s probably because he doesn’t realize that I’m Leviathan, a villain with the power of telekinesis. And I can’t tell him because he’d never forgive me and would stop doing things like cooking for me—wait, maybe that would be a good thing, since he’s a terrible cook. It doesn’t help that my parents think they’re the ultimate villains and won’t stop getting in my way, although they can’t even steal toilet paper without getting caught.
But when real supervillains (not the wannabe kind that I grew up with) start targeting August, I might be forced to show everyone who I truly am: a slightly warped and snarky man who’d really rather read a book than save anything… besides August. I’ll tear this world apart just to get another glimpse of him in those glasses and spandex suit. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even though it means exposing my true identity. Luckily, August still cares about me, proving that even a villain and a hero can fall in love. Hopefully, we’ll be able to save the world in time for Christmas.
This ridiculous and snarky holiday novel is 92,000 words and contains a villain turned unlikely hero (even if he’s a manager's worst nightmare), a superhero with a fondness for suckers who absolutely does NOT use his powers to cheat on board games, a hairless cat with an unfortunate name, bumbling family members that try to be evil but are mostly just embarrassing, a snow globe with mysterious powers, betrayal, true love, a risqué Santa suit, and the saltiest chicken ever.
Although this book is part of A Snow Globe Christmas series, it is a complete standalone, and it isn’t a requirement that you read the previous books to follow along. We wish everyone a happy holiday season.
I'll admit that with everything going on in 2020 that I forgot it had only been about 10 months since I read this delightful gem. Now I didn't forget just how delightfully genius and fun A Villain for Christmas was just that it had been only 10 months since reading it.
Having re-read my original review, I don't think I can add much more without giving anything away because even though this was from last year's Christmas releases I have a feeling there is still plenty that have yet to experience it's greatness. There still isn't enough superhero stories in the LGBT genres for my liking so I know this won't be the last re-read/listen I enjoy of this Alice Winters gem.
I'll just add that this is the first audiobook with Michael Lesley as narrator for me, personally new-to-me narrators can be almost as "scary" as new-to-me authors. I needn't have worried because he does a wonderful job bringing this holiday fantasy to life, making Landon and August even more real than the author's words already did. I could almost feel the jarring sensation in my arm when I wanted to smack a couple of characters with a frying pan, that's how into the story the author and narrator make the reader/listener, which is a mark of true talent.
Original Review January 2020:
There is just not enough superhero/supervillain(or in the case of Landon's family not-so-super-supervillians) stories in the LGBT genres. A Villain for Christmas was the first book of 2020 for me and what a way to kick off the year!
This is another one of those stories that I'm not going to say too much about because you really do need to experience Landon and August's journey to fully appreciate the magnificence that is Alice Walker's storytelling. There is so much goodness in this story and the genuine-ness of the characters, whether they fall on the good or bad side of the scale, is what makes them stand out. You'll have moments of shaking your head and saying "WTF is wrong with that person?" and you'll have equal moments of "OMG how can one person be so understanding?" It's these emotions that make this story so hard to put down.
This is only the second Alice Winters book I've read and it definitely cemented my desire to read more of her backlist this year. She has a way with what I like to call "snark and cuddle" that make her characters not only fun(even if you want to shake them or smack them upside the head with a kitchen appliance) but that much more real, which isn't easy to do in the fantasy world of superheros and villains. Being a holiday setting only makes the magic of the story that much sweeter. Definitely a win win for both my holiday and superhero shelf.
RATING:
This is another one of those stories that I'm not going to say too much about because you really do need to experience Landon and August's journey to fully appreciate the magnificence that is Alice Walker's storytelling. There is so much goodness in this story and the genuine-ness of the characters, whether they fall on the good or bad side of the scale, is what makes them stand out. You'll have moments of shaking your head and saying "WTF is wrong with that person?" and you'll have equal moments of "OMG how can one person be so understanding?" It's these emotions that make this story so hard to put down.
This is only the second Alice Winters book I've read and it definitely cemented my desire to read more of her backlist this year. She has a way with what I like to call "snark and cuddle" that make her characters not only fun(even if you want to shake them or smack them upside the head with a kitchen appliance) but that much more real, which isn't easy to do in the fantasy world of superheros and villains. Being a holiday setting only makes the magic of the story that much sweeter. Definitely a win win for both my holiday and superhero shelf.
RATING:
Summary:
Harrisburg Railers #10
When baby makes three, Christmas will never be the same for Ten and Jared.
There's not much that Tennant Rowe hasn't accomplished, and all before reaching thirty. Hoisting the Cup, marrying the man of his dreams, and becoming a spokesman for LGBTQ2+ athletes' rights have filled his world with great joy. While his successes on and off the ice have been beyond his wildest expectations, he's now wondering if it's time to add one more tiny addition to his already wonderful life.
Being a dad to Ryker and marrying Ten are the two of the best things in Jared's life, only something is missing. He always wanted more children, but with Ten and the Railers riding a wave of success, how could he even broach the subject of adoption or surrogacy with the man he loves? Jared would give the moon and the stars to his husband, so when Ten reveals his desire to be a father, they start a journey that will fill their Christmas with a new and special kind of love.
Original Review December 2020:
First off, let's see what Baby Makes Three has:
Tennant Rowe ✔️
Jared Madsen ✔️
Christmas ✔️
Friendship ✔️
Family ✔️
Humor ✔️
Love ✔️
and as the title suggests: baby ✔️
Okay, now that I've established all my reading boxes have been ticked lets continue.
Seriously though, Baby Makes Three is an absolute reading gem! As you know I don't do spoilers but I think the title pretty much says it all. If you've been reading from the beginning I don't think there's ever been any doubt that Ten and Jared would make great parents because let's face it they've had their fair share of dosing out parental guidance with a team like the Railers have😉😉.
Between this entry being a novella and my spoiler free blog, I'm going to make this short and sweet: I freakin' loved Baby Makes Three.
I do want to comment on one thing that really pleased me. RJ Scott & VL Locey managed to show the anxiety of finding a surrogate that fits the couple without, well I don't want to use the term "bog down" because the road couples face, especially LGBT couples, is important but since this is a holiday novella, an established series, and an established couple, I really appreciated how they told the drama without the angst, still keeping the story light and the guys didn't lose who they are.
Oh and the little hints for a future Raptors story was brilliantly laid out and managed to perfectly fit into Ten and Jared's parental journey. So Scott & Locey have done it again with their hockey universe. Such a delight all the way around.
Summary:
Winter Magic #1
Jason Walker is a child star turned teen heartthrob turned reluctant B-movie regular who’s sick of his failing career. So he gives up Hollywood for northern Idaho, far away from the press, the drama of L.A., and the best friend he’s secretly been in love with for years.
There’s only one problem with his new life: a strange young man only he can see is haunting his guesthouse. Except Benjamin Ward isn’t a ghost. He’s a man caught out of time, trapped since the Civil War in a magical prison where he can only watch the lives of those around him. He’s also sweet, funny, and cute as hell, with an affinity for cheesy ’80s TV shows. And he’s thrilled to finally have someone to talk to.
But Jason quickly discovers that spending all his time with a man nobody else can see or hear isn’t without its problems—especially when the tabloids find him again and make him front-page news. The local sheriff thinks he’s on drugs, and his best friend thinks he’s crazy. But Jason knows he hasn’t lost his mind. Too bad he can’t say the same thing about his heart.
(This title was originally released by Riptide Publishing.)
Original Audiobook Review December 2020:
I'm not going to say that I forgot the ins and outs of this story because I didn't, how can one forget something really quite unique as I mentioned in the my original review? Nor did I forget how much I loved it, but it has been 5 years since I read it so even though the adrenaline rush I get from a first read wasn't there, Marie Sexton's words and Nick J Russo's narration had me enthralled almost as much as my original visit to Winter Oranges. I won't say anymore because though this is an older story, I'm sure there are those who have yet to find it and I don't want to spoil it for them. I will say that now that I have found it in audiobook form, it certainly won't be another 5 years before I follow Jason and Ben's journey. Definitely a win-win from beginning to end and whether you enjoy holiday stories or not, if you like an intriguing and reasonably unique tale of paranormal elements then Marie Sexton's Winter Oranges is not to be missed.
Original Review October 2015:
Such a unique idea. I've read stories where a building is haunted or a spirit is attached to an object and exists in the home it comes into but to live in the snowglobe and can only be so far from it was intriguing. Jason and Ben quickly burrowed it's way into my heart and it'll definitely be in my re-reading pile. Winter Oranges may be a Christmas story but it fits perfectly onto my paranormal shelf too.
Such a unique idea. I've read stories where a building is haunted or a spirit is attached to an object and exists in the home it comes into but to live in the snowglobe and can only be so far from it was intriguing. Jason and Ben quickly burrowed it's way into my heart and it'll definitely be in my re-reading pile. Winter Oranges may be a Christmas story but it fits perfectly onto my paranormal shelf too.
Summary:
Archie's posh parents want him to meet a nice girl--how can he tell them he's fallen for a bad boy instead?
Closeted, innocent and lonely, Archie Arandale longs for someone special in his life. A Christmas party organised by his wealth management company is the last place he expects to meet the man of his dreams.
With his leather jacket, tattoos, and piercings, Cal Turner turns heads the moment he walks through the door. He definitely isn't looking for a boyfriend, but Archie's hesitant charm captures his attention, and sneaking off during the party to have a little fun can only make a dull evening more interesting.
After their reckless and thrilling encounter, Archie is keen for more experience and Cal is happy to oblige. The need for secrecy means this can only be a casual fling, yet as they spend time together in the run up to Christmas, their feelings become more intense than either of them had bargained for. How can Archie find the courage to tell his family about Cal, when Cal's the exact opposite of the 'nice girl' they've been hoping for?
Contains: A closeted virgin, a tattooed biker, class differences, a dramatic coming out, a very inappropriate Christmas gift, and a happy ending (of course).
RATING:
Dianne Hartsock
Alice Winters
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
RJ Scott
VL Locey
Marie Sexton
Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.
Jay Northcote
Winter Oranges by Marie Sexton
A Boyfriend for Christmas by Jay Northcote
Archie's posh parents want him to meet a nice girl--how can he tell them he's fallen for a bad boy instead?
Closeted, innocent and lonely, Archie Arandale longs for someone special in his life. A Christmas party organised by his wealth management company is the last place he expects to meet the man of his dreams.
With his leather jacket, tattoos, and piercings, Cal Turner turns heads the moment he walks through the door. He definitely isn't looking for a boyfriend, but Archie's hesitant charm captures his attention, and sneaking off during the party to have a little fun can only make a dull evening more interesting.
After their reckless and thrilling encounter, Archie is keen for more experience and Cal is happy to oblige. The need for secrecy means this can only be a casual fling, yet as they spend time together in the run up to Christmas, their feelings become more intense than either of them had bargained for. How can Archie find the courage to tell his family about Cal, when Cal's the exact opposite of the 'nice girl' they've been hoping for?
Contains: A closeted virgin, a tattooed biker, class differences, a dramatic coming out, a very inappropriate Christmas gift, and a happy ending (of course).
Original Audiobook Review December 2020:
It's been a year since I originally discovered A Boyfriend for Christmas and it's as good as I remember. Cal and Archie still tugged at my heart, still made me want to wrap them up in Mama Bear hugs, and still wanted me to smack them a time or two. I've never listened to a book narrated by Hamish Long before but he brought the men to life perfectly, may not have matched the voices I created in my head last year but still a wonderful portrayal. Tie all the words and narration together and you have a book worthy of a great Christmas entertainment experience that will delight story lovers for years to come. I'll admit A Boyfriend for Christmas may not make my yearly re-read/listen list but that's down to the number of waking hours in a year not the loveliness of the story😉😉.
Original review December 2019:
I've only read a few of Jay Northcote's books but every single one that has come to my attention is on my TBR list(I'm sure they'd all be if I went and perused his backlist😉) so when A Boyfriend for Christmas was set to be released I knew it was going on my Xmas TBR list. I wasn't sure it would "make the cut" for this year just because my list pretty much doubles every day so there's just no way I can get through all of them but I'm so glad I decided to read it for this holiday season.
Brilliant. Fun. Sexy. Romantic.
Now is it worthy of what I call the Hallmark-y stamp? No. It is so much better! Romantic comedy with heart but not nearly sugary sweet enough to earn the Hallmark-y stamp. Now that's not a bad thing, oh no! Don't get me wrong I like the sugary sweet holiday stuff but I LOVE the heartwarming rom-com with that something extra special too and A Boyfriend for Christmas has that something extra special in spades!!!!👏👏👏
I personally don't think Cal and Archie are opposite enough to be labeled opposites attract, simply because the person Archie is hiding underneath isn't really that different but he's kind of afraid to let him out, and I don't just mean out of the closet, there's more than just his sexuality he's afraid to unleash on his family. "Unleash"? I make it sound menacing with that word and its not, there's no mayhem in Archie's heart I just think unleash is a good word because he's hidden it for so long.
I don't think I'm going to say too much more because I don't do spoilers and this is definitely a holiday story you need to experience for yourself to get the full effect of Cal and Archie. I will say that there were a few times I wanted to smack them upside the head as only a loving sibling does(I'm an only child but I've seen many a friend whack their brother or sister in the back of the head when the adults weren't watching😉). There were just as many times I wanted to Mama Bear hug them and tell them "You got this".
Definitely a holiday classic in the making.
I've only read a few of Jay Northcote's books but every single one that has come to my attention is on my TBR list(I'm sure they'd all be if I went and perused his backlist😉) so when A Boyfriend for Christmas was set to be released I knew it was going on my Xmas TBR list. I wasn't sure it would "make the cut" for this year just because my list pretty much doubles every day so there's just no way I can get through all of them but I'm so glad I decided to read it for this holiday season.
Brilliant. Fun. Sexy. Romantic.
Now is it worthy of what I call the Hallmark-y stamp? No. It is so much better! Romantic comedy with heart but not nearly sugary sweet enough to earn the Hallmark-y stamp. Now that's not a bad thing, oh no! Don't get me wrong I like the sugary sweet holiday stuff but I LOVE the heartwarming rom-com with that something extra special too and A Boyfriend for Christmas has that something extra special in spades!!!!👏👏👏
I personally don't think Cal and Archie are opposite enough to be labeled opposites attract, simply because the person Archie is hiding underneath isn't really that different but he's kind of afraid to let him out, and I don't just mean out of the closet, there's more than just his sexuality he's afraid to unleash on his family. "Unleash"? I make it sound menacing with that word and its not, there's no mayhem in Archie's heart I just think unleash is a good word because he's hidden it for so long.
I don't think I'm going to say too much more because I don't do spoilers and this is definitely a holiday story you need to experience for yourself to get the full effect of Cal and Archie. I will say that there were a few times I wanted to smack them upside the head as only a loving sibling does(I'm an only child but I've seen many a friend whack their brother or sister in the back of the head when the adults weren't watching😉). There were just as many times I wanted to Mama Bear hug them and tell them "You got this".
Definitely a holiday classic in the making.
Nicolas by Dianne Hartsock
"You weren't in our bed when I woke. I missed you." Nico played with the bottom of Jamie's shirt, and Jamie jumped when he tickled his ribs. He quickly reduced the flame on the burner to its lowest setting, then turned in Nico's arms.
He ran his fingers through Nico's tousled curls. "I wanted you to sleep. Would you like a hot chocolate?"
Nico's lips lifted with a slow grin, and he ran his gaze down Jamie's body. "There's sweeter things I'd like in my mouth," he suggested, sending a jolt of hunger through Jamie. Nico leaned and ran his tongue over Jamie's bottom lip, making him whimper.
Jamie opened his mouth to invite him in and felt Nico jump as if startled. He glanced up and found Nico's gaze riveted on the refrigerator. His heart thumped with apprehension. "What is it?"
Nico stepped around him without replying, not taking his gaze off the pictures held by small magnets to the refrigerator doors. Jamie moved up beside him.
"The doctor has children."
Jamie caught his breath at the dread in Nico's voice. "Just one. His son Andy. Nico, what's the matter?"
The thick lashes blinked, and Jamie shivered when Nico's fierce gaze met his. "Piter's seen these. In nome di Dio! I have to stop him."
Jamie watched as he strode across the room, momentarily stunned by the panic in Nico's voice. "Nico, wait," he called and trotted after him, putting a hand on his arm to stop him as he headed for the front door. Nico gave him an impatient look, but Jamie was determined. "You can't go out in the storm. Please wait until morning, at least."
"Piter won't wait. He'll hurt --"
"He wouldn't --"
Nico quickly touched his cheek, compassion sweeping his face. "No, angelo mio, he won't kill the boy. Never that. But he'll frighten him, torment the father, to get to me. Do you understand? Piter hates me for the wrong I did him years ago, will never forgive me, and will use anyone to make me suffer for it. I can't let him do that."
Jamie held Nico's hand against his cheek, not above begging, "Please, Nico, you could die if you go out there. It's so easy to get turned around in these storms. You could wander off track, fall through the snow into a crevice or something. When the sun comes up, I'll hike with you into Alpena and visit John's office. If they're not there, someone in town will know where they are."
Doubt creased Nico's face, and then his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're right, but I abhor the delay." He let out a heavy, frustrated breath and returned to sit on the couch, burying his face in his hands.
Jamie watched him, then sighed and went back to the kitchen. The milk had boiled over the pan slightly, but is hadn't scorched and enough remained to make a mug of chocolate. He watched the cocoa and sugar dissolve, letting his mind drift while he stirred the darkening liquid. He loved Nico, but there were some hard questions he needed to ask, not sure if he could handle the answers.
When the chocolate was ready, he poured it into a mug and carried it to the living room, setting it on a small table by the couch. Unsure, he nudged Nico's arms out of the way and straddled his lap. Nico stiffened, but then put his arms around Jamie's waist with a soft cry and pushed his face against his shoulder.
"Piccolo angelo mio," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so afraid. What do I do, little one?"
"Hush, baby, I'm here. I won't let anything bad happen," he promised, though his heart stumbled with the thought that this strong man would ask his advice. He slipped his fingers under Nico's chin and raised his face. His lover's tears undid him, but he gathered his courage, needing to be strong. "Nico, we'll find them. You said Piter won't hurt the boy?"
"Not physically, but he can be terrifying. You've seen his beauty, but he can wear many masks, things taken right from the boy's nightmares. The Krampus can drive little Andy to madness or death, if he chooses."
"Krampus? Nico, who is Piter? What is he?"
Nico's expression turned grim. "He is my enemy."
A Villain for Christmas by Alice Winters
“Landon, I want you to help me rob a bank.”
I try to ignore my brother, since I clearly didn’t hear him right.
“Won’t you do me a favor?” he asks after letting himself into my house without bothering to knock. Not that knocking would have done him any good since I wasn’t planning on letting him into my house at all anyway.
“No,” I say without bothering to look up from the book I’m reading.
“Just hear me out!” he exclaims.
I lower the book and look up at my older brother Brandon. Thankfully, I don’t take much after him. Not that he’s ugly or anything like that, he’s not, but just because he’s an idiot. And the one thing I don’t want to be is an idiot. “What, Brandon?”
“I want you to help me rob a bank.”
“No! You asked me last week, and I already told you I have better things to do. Like…” I look around as I try to think of something. It’s hard when my life consists of trying to avoid my family and reading every book I can get my hands on. Oh, and did I mention avoiding my family? Honestly, that’s a full-time career when they all have powers that allow them to better annoy the shit out of me. “Work.”
“Mom told me you got fired,” Brandon says as he sits down on the couch next to me.
“I got fired because Mom came in and told the boss that she needed me. When he said I was working and couldn’t just leave, she told him he looks like an overripe nut sac.”
Brandon starts laughing. “That’s so cool.”
“I hate all of you,” I decide as I lift my book back up.
“About the bank. Come on, you borrowed money from me last week.”
I stare at my brother in disbelief. “Five dollars. You honestly think the equivalent of you lending me five dollars is me helping you rob a bank? I’m not going to help you rob a bank again!”
I try to ignore my brother, since I clearly didn’t hear him right.
“Won’t you do me a favor?” he asks after letting himself into my house without bothering to knock. Not that knocking would have done him any good since I wasn’t planning on letting him into my house at all anyway.
“No,” I say without bothering to look up from the book I’m reading.
“Just hear me out!” he exclaims.
I lower the book and look up at my older brother Brandon. Thankfully, I don’t take much after him. Not that he’s ugly or anything like that, he’s not, but just because he’s an idiot. And the one thing I don’t want to be is an idiot. “What, Brandon?”
“I want you to help me rob a bank.”
“No! You asked me last week, and I already told you I have better things to do. Like…” I look around as I try to think of something. It’s hard when my life consists of trying to avoid my family and reading every book I can get my hands on. Oh, and did I mention avoiding my family? Honestly, that’s a full-time career when they all have powers that allow them to better annoy the shit out of me. “Work.”
“Mom told me you got fired,” Brandon says as he sits down on the couch next to me.
“I got fired because Mom came in and told the boss that she needed me. When he said I was working and couldn’t just leave, she told him he looks like an overripe nut sac.”
Brandon starts laughing. “That’s so cool.”
“I hate all of you,” I decide as I lift my book back up.
“About the bank. Come on, you borrowed money from me last week.”
I stare at my brother in disbelief. “Five dollars. You honestly think the equivalent of you lending me five dollars is me helping you rob a bank? I’m not going to help you rob a bank again!”
Baby Makes Three by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Chapter One
Jared
February
I hated waking up to a Ten-sized space in bed but in the last few weeks it had become the norm. Missing the early morning snuggling was one thing, but knowing that my normally unflappable husband woke every day with his thoughts in a twist was hurting my heart. As I tugged on sweats and a T-shirt and resolved to hunt him down, I didn’t know what I’d find.
Day one of waking at dawn I’d found him running hell for leather on our treadmill, day two it was weights, day three he was slamming pucks at the net in our large backyard, then day four we were back to running. It was twenty-one days since we’d gotten the letter from the Harrisburg Central Family Agency, and I had no idea what Ten could be doing today. Hockey players were a superstitious lot, but I was convinced this new daily ritual he’d formed was less about helping his game and more about escaping his worries.
I grabbed coffee and the specific protein shake Ten had on game days and went searching for him, finding him in the home gym. Only he wasn't running, or lifting weights; he was sitting on the treadmill, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was a sight for sore eyes, his dark hair soft and messy around his face, his Railers T-shirt with his number was old and worn and hugged him like a second skin, and his shorts meant that I got a good peek at his long legs and spectacular hockey thighs. But it wasn't any of that that I focused on—it was the look of misery on his face.
The Railers were on top of the division by five points, he’d played with a fire that blew away the opposition, and the team was on a high. So I was sure it wasn't hockey that was playing with his mind. Also, he’d only just had another checkup so I hoped it wasn't his brain that was causing him issues. He had headaches sometimes, moments when words didn’t immediately come to him, but that was a small non-issue according to the specialist, just remnants of the trauma.
I was sure it was tomorrow that was messing with his head, but then it was a big day for us both. Stress and worry frustrated him, and that was why he’d reverted to routines.
“Babe?” I called from the door.
He glanced up at me. “Hey,” he murmured.
“You worried about Philly?” I knew he wasn’t, and also knew full well what his answer would be. At least it would raise a smile.
He huffed. “The day I worry about playing hockey is the day hell freezes over.”
“Good.” I deliberately didn't push him to tell what the actual reason was, always kept it to hockey, because one day he’d tell me the truth. I almost left him to his thoughts, but it appeared that today was the day he’d decided to share.
“Jared? It’s not hockey, it’s all these worries about what we’re doing.”
My stomach fell. “About trying for a baby?” We’d made the decision together, on Christmas Day, and had talked the issue to death until we were both completely sure we were on the same page. Ten wanted a family with me, I wanted a family with him, and at the end of it we’d hugged and agreed that the time was right.
“No, not that.”
“What about then? Do you want to talk?”
“You’re going to think I’m stupid,” he muttered and rubbed his eyes.
“Never.”
“Well, what if our surrogate hates us?” he blurted.
And there it was. Twenty-one days ago we’d had an email confirming a potential match from our choices, and twenty-one days ago Tennant Madsen-Rowe had begun to lose his shit. I instinctively knew that was the thing messing with his head, but it was up to him to process it all and let me in when he reached a point where he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.
I handed him the shake, and settled next to him on the treadmill, bumping elbows. “What is there to hate?”
“Where do I start?”
I winced at the resignation in his voice. As his coach I needed his head in the game today, but as his husband and lover I wanted to make everything right for him. “You know she picked us from the list, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts, babe. We ticked all the boxes, same-sex married couple, sportsmen, annual income, family history, your injury and recovery backed up by doctor letters, my divorce, Ryker, wills, trusts, suggestions for contacts, references, there was nothing we left off, so if she chose us then she made decisions based on facts.”
“She can still pull out of it all.”
I put an arm over his shoulders and tugged him close. “She could, and you know what? We’ll deal with that if it happens. Together.”
“What if we go all the way to the end and—?”
“Stop thinking ahead. Let’s take each day as it comes. Treat it like hockey and take each day on its merits, where each win and loss forms a tapestry of content to get us to the finals.”
He laughed, and I knew I’d broken the fears for the moment. “Dude, did you just use the word ‘tapestry’ in a sentence about hockey?”
“I have mad English skills,” I said with a smile and pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. He faced me and the kiss changed from a peck to a full blown hello and good morning.
Ten would be fine and we’d make it through the game, and then hell, we’d rock the meeting tomorrow with the potential surrogate.
Together.
Isobel Mackie was thirty-one, a beautician, married to Eddie, and with a twin brother, Adam, who was gay. Isobel had signed up with the agency when her brother had been going through the same process as us to become a dad with his husband. In a selfless exchange of love, she’d offered to become a surrogate because her brother was now the father of twin boys by using the same method. That was one of the things that had drawn her to us the most; that she knew what the process had been like for the brother she adored, and that her family supported her one hundred percent. In fact, her husband, Eddie, was with her today as her advocate, and there was so much love between them that it was like looking in a mirror at Ten and me. The four of us were ushered into a plush room to sit at a round table with the agency owners and a young woman called Michelle who was there to take notes.
We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, all very formal when all I wanted to do was hug Isobel until she squeaked. Of course that would be after I explained to her that Ten was sure she was going to back out, and then begged her not to.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you in real life.” She smiled broadly.
“And you,” I said when Ten stayed quiet. I knocked my shoe against his, but he was focusing on the paperwork in front of us.
“Do you have any questions for me?” Isobel asked with an open smile, and I knew Ten had a thousand, but again, silence.
“This is the time to discuss the finer points,” Lloyd, the owner of the Harrisburg Central Family Agency encouraged, but Ten seemed tense.
“Ten?” I murmured, “You want me to—?”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, then lifted his chin. “I’d prefer this meeting to be just the four of us in here, with Michelle as our case manager,” Ten interrupted.
“For a high profile situation we usually oversee,” Lloyd said.
“Actually, we’d prefer it to be Michelle,” Isobel murmured.
Lloyd glanced at his wife, Jennifer, the other half of the ownership team, but Jennifer shrugged.
“Okay, if that’s the way it has to be, then Michelle has this,” she said, and pushed back her chair. “Michelle, make sure you detail everything.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Michelle murmured, and opened the pad in front of her, making a big deal of writing the date and time at the top of a fresh page.
We waited in silence until Jennifer and Lloyd had left, and as soon as the door closed behind them I could see the tension leave Ten in a rush.
“I hope that wasn’t rude. I wanted it to be us so we can get to know each other better,” Ten admitted.
Eddie nodded. “Totally understandable,” he said. “But, then I thought maybe they’re all sniffy because you’re high-profile clients.”
Ten dipped his head, he hated the celebrity part of what he did, and out in Harrisburg he was recognized more often than not. “I don’t want them staring at me as if I don’t deserve to be here, or that we won’t be the best parents.” He glanced at Michelle who was still in the start position waiting to write, but who returned Ten’s glance with a level stare.
“Believe me, I have noted, and fully understand your concerns,” Michelle said, and that was all we were getting. Only there was something in her expression that spoke of a deeper understanding of Ten’s worries.
We knew they were the best local agency, and from the first meeting the owners had made it clear that they supported our choices. But they’d also insisted we didn't publicly post about our progress or make what we were doing into a media circus. They called it reasonable discretion, but I felt as if they were implying we were going through this process to get an accessory to our lifestyle and not because we wanted a family. I was probably wrong to even think that, but still, the concern had been there on my list of pros and cons.
I liked Michelle though, a quiet woman who appeared to respect what we were doing.
“Actually, can Jared and I have you as our specific case officer and put it in writing?” Ten asked Michelle.
Michelle appeared startled, but then stared down at the notebook. “You can request whomever you want,” she admitted after a short pause.
“We request you as well,” Isobel said, and Eddie added his agreement.
“Okay then,” Ten said with enthusiasm, “can you write that down. Number one, Mr. and Mr. Madsen-Rowe request Michelle as the official case manager.”
“And Mr. and Mrs. Mackie,” Isobel added.
Michelle was flustered at first, and then she pulled on her game face and sat back in the chair a little more relaxed.
“Let’s get down to business then.”
The next few hours were spent working through the surrogacy structure, the financial and emotional investment from both sides. We spoke at length about why Isobel was ready to do this, and she spoke so eloquently about her twin. Some of it was technical and dry, the fact that we would have an anonymous egg, with Ten’s sperm, and that Isobel was our gestational surrogate. The rest? That was laughter, and getting to know each other, and finally ending up leaving the agency with the four of us going for lunch. We’d signed reams of paperwork and Michelle was collating and copying and sending our contracts.
Everything in writing even this early before conception was an issue. We’d already had a home assessment, criminal and records checks, and Isobel had been screened alongside us. There were extra NDA pages to sign so that Isobel didn't go out and sell our story to the media, and even though I wanted to say blindly we trusted her, we had to have that level of protection.
I had to keep my family safe.
Isobel had us sign anonymity forms, and our own type of NDA that we wouldn't out her as our surrogate unless she chose to reveal it. Michelle appeared to have every eventuality listed, and lawyers had prepared everything. It was reassuring, and overwhelming all at the same time.
We had an egg donor chosen, no name or identification, but we had enough information and we’d asked for very little in the way of qualifying data. We didn't care about some of the more specific stuff like hair color and eyes, because who knew what genetics would play a part in the baby we would end up loving? Yes, we crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is but now we wanted to know Isobel, the person.
She was lovely, there was no other word for it, and even though we knew the dry details, I wanted to know more about her, but she beat me to it.
“At sixteen we fell pregnant,” she blurted out, and Eddie squeezed her hand. “We’d been dating since eighth grade, and I knew I’d be with him forever. But me getting pregnant was the final straw for my parents. They not only had a gay son in my twin brother, but they had a daughter who was expecting a baby outside of marriage. Let’s just say both myself and my brother were encouraged to leave home.”
Of course we’d read all of this in her profile, but to hear her say the words and know that her parents had rid themselves of two children at the same time, was heartbreaking.
“She didn't need them,” Eddie said, “both Isobel and Adam moved in with my mom and we did okay.”
“We got married, and our first son, Dale, was born just after my seventeenth birthday, and our second, Austin, when I was nineteen. We worked for Eddie’s mom in a salon in town and we were a family. When my twin, Adam, met his husband and wanted a baby, I offered to carry a baby for them.” She glanced at her husband. “We offered. But it worked out better for all of us to have anonymity, and I promised myself that we would help another couple who couldn’t have children. When we read your profile, we knew it had to be you.”
“Thank you.” Ten was choked.
“Of course, when we matched and they revealed who you were we nearly rethought it,” Eddie said, and my chest tightened. “Only because I’m a New York fan.”
“Someone has to be,” Tennant deadpanned, and like that, the ice was broken.
I knew we were in good hands. She was very open about why she was willing to carry our baby, using the money to fund her education and to give her kids a good start in life, and I wanted to hand everything over to her there and then. Ten relaxed as lunch continued, and we were done. We hugged her goodbye, thanking her so much she was scarlet with pleasure. We headed back to the parking garage, and Ten tugged me into a dark corner, and held me as if he’d never let me go.
“We’re doing this,” he whispered in my ear.
I grinned and held onto him. “We’re so doing this.”
The disappointment was real when the first cycle didn't work. February was a hard month mentally and physically for us both. The Railers were fighting tooth and nail in a close division, tensions were high on ice, and the call from Michelle to explain there would need to be a second try rocked our safe little world.
“We get everything so easy.” Ten grasped my hand hard after the call ended, “I just expected this to be easy as well.”
“We don’t get everything easy,” I said, and tugged him to sit next to me on the couch. “We work hard at everything, and this is no different.”
We entered the second month with renewed hope, and the day we would find out if everything had worked was the day after a brutal game against Brady’s Boston Rebels. Ten had been slammed into the boards in so many different ways that he was a mess of bruises, and he was exhausted. We’d slept late, but at least when I was woken by my cell phone dancing on the bedside table, he was curled up next to me.
I reached for the phone, connected the call as soon as I saw it was Michelle.
“It’s good news. Isobel is pregnant.”
And in that single instant as Ten and I hugged each other, we knew our lives were about to change in the most dramatic way.
Bring it on.
Winter Oranges by Marie Sexton
Chapter One
It was easy to believe the house was haunted. After acting for most of his life, Jason Walker’s first thought upon seeing the home he’d purchased virtually sight unseen was that it would have been a perfect place to film an Amityville remake.
A little far from Amity, but hey, Hollywood had never been a stickler for rules.
Or honesty.
Jason put his car in park and killed the engine. Gravel crunched as his friend Dylan’s rental car rolled to a stop next to him. They climbed out of their vehicles and stood side by side, leaning against Jason’s front bumper, staring up at his new abode.
Dylan whistled, long and low, then shook his head. “This place is creepy as hell.”
“It’s just the light.” Even a washed-up actor like Jason knew lighting could make or break a scene. The pictures he’d seen online of the house had been taken in full sunlight in October, with the majestic glory of autumn on all sides, the gold- and scarlet-leaved trees nearer the house backed by the evergreens of the surrounding forest. But now, only a week into November, the eerie orange glow of twilight fell on bare branches, and the pines seemed droopy and forlorn. None of it was doing this house any favors.
Still, Dylan had a point. The house was creepy. Something about the lone, low window over the second floor’s covered patio. Something about the house’s quiet isolation, and the thin white curtains hanging uniformly in every window. Or maybe it was the detached garage with its guesthouse on top, sitting like a forgotten toy off to the left.
“How old is it?” Dylan asked.
“It was built in the ’90s.”
“The 1890s?” Dylan was incredulous. The idea of spending money on anything so old was obviously beyond his comprehension.
“No. The 1990s.”
“It looks older.”
“It’s supposed to.” His real estate agent, Sydney Bell, had called the house an American foursquare revival. Jason didn’t know what that meant and didn’t care. The price was right, the house was fully furnished, and its relative seclusion in the mountainous region of Idaho’s panhandle would make it harder for tabloid photographers to find him.
“They intentionally made it look old?” Dylan asked, as if it was the most absurd thing he’d heard all day.
“They copied an older style of architecture.”
“Huh.” Dylan scratched his chin and threw Jason a smart-assed grin. “Retro. Like you.”
Jason laughed, because that’s what Dylan expected. “Fuck you.” He pushed off the bumper of his car, rattling his keys in his hand. “Let’s see what it’s like inside.”
The second story extended out over the first like an overbite, creating a covered front porch that ran the length of the house. “A veranda,” Sydney had called it. The front door opened into a hallway, although Jason suspected Sydney would have said it was a foyer. Or maybe a vestibule. To the right lay a large living room, furnished in what could only be called cozy-grandma style, with lots of flowers and overstuffed cushions. A stack of moving boxes stood in the center of the floor, having been left there the previous day by the moving company, working under Sydney’s direction. To the left of the foyer sat the dining room, through which they could see the kitchen. Jason knew a mudroom and pantry made up the back half of the area. Directly ahead of where they stood by the front door, a bathroom and the staircase leading up completed the ground floor.
No ghosts, though. Not so far, at least.
“Who the hell picked out that couch?” Dylan asked.
“The previous owner, I guess.” In truth, Jason hadn’t cared much what the furniture looked like. Sydney had promised him it was all in decent condition. Jason was just happy he didn’t have to go wandering around town searching for a damn table to eat at, or a chair to sit in while he watched TV. He’d had Sydney stock the kitchen with a few essentials too, assuring he wouldn’t have to go grocery shopping for a few days at least. The last thing he needed was for somebody in Coeur d’Alene to discover the child star turned B-list actor known to the public as Jadon Walker Buttermore had moved in to their small community. The longer he remained anonymous, the better.
Dylan scowled at the couch as if it had personally offended him. Knowing Dylan and his neo-minimalist style, it probably had. “It’s like something my grandma would have bought.”
Jason laughed. “What? You have something against giant pink roses?”
“On a couch? Yeah, I do. And so should you.”
Jason sat down on the sofa and leaned back. He searched with his left hand and found the lever to extend the footrest. He reclined the backrest and smiled up at Dylan. “It’s not bad, actually.”
“You should have let me furnish it for you.”
“Yeah, right.” Jason sat upright again, shoving the footrest closed with his heels. “I’d have ended up with one designer chair that cost more than my car. And it wouldn’t even have been comfortable.”
Dylan’s laugh was sudden and loud in the confines of the quiet house. “Boy, you don’t think much of me, do you?”
That wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all, and he suspected Dylan knew it, but Dylan always did this to him, asking questions that seemed to dare Jason to blurt out how he really felt. Jason chose to ignore most of them, this one included. “Come on. Let’s check out the rest.”
Although the house was more than twenty years old, the kitchen had been updated and included all new chrome appliances and a trash compactor that Sydney swore was top-of-the-line and quiet as a whisper. Jason didn’t bother to test the claim.
The second floor held a tiny bathroom and four bedrooms, one in each corner, which Jason supposed was what gave the foursquare its name. A stairway led to a long, slope-ceilinged attic bedroom. At the far end, the single narrow window Jason had noticed upon arrival allowed a bit of light to creep inside. It was a sad, empty room, and they didn’t linger.
“Whoever lived here sure did love flowers,” Dylan said as they scoped out the first couple of bedrooms on the second floor. “Wallpaper, bedspreads, pictures. Even the rug in the bathroom has roses on it. And they’re all pink.”
“It could be worse.”
“How?”
“Uh . . .” Jason stopped, considering. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
They ended their tour, by some unspoken agreement, in the master bedroom. It was the one room Jason’d had refurnished before his arrival. He’d chosen the furniture himself—online, of course—and Sydney had made sure everything would be ready when he arrived. His new room held a large oak dresser, a chest of drawers, and a love seat, which he knew would end up a depository for not-quite-dirty laundry. A king-sized bed covered with a thick down comforter sat against the wall, between two nightstands.
Dylan pointed to the glass-paned door in the corner of the room. “This goes to that patio we could see from the front yard?”
“It does.”
The two front bedrooms shared a covered porch that sat dead center of the front of the house, directly below the attic window. It was a strange setup, a throwback to when husbands and wives had separate quarters. The porch would have allowed them to cross to each other’s room without alerting the children, except this house had been built at the end of the twentieth century, making the floor plan an anachronism.
Dylan opened the door, and Jason followed him outside. They still wore their jackets, but now the sun had set and the November evening felt cooler than before.
“There’s a room over the garage too?” Dylan asked.
“Yep, bed and bath.” They stood surveying the building in question from their vantage point on the porch. It was eerily silent.
“Well, is it everything you dreamed?”
Yes. Standing there with Dylan, out of sight of everybody else in the world was exactly what he dreamed about, nearly every night.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.
Instead, Jason nodded, then asked, as casually as he could, “You’re staying the night, right?”
Dylan grinned and stepped closer to slide his arm around Jason’s waist. “I didn’t come all this way to see your house.”
Jason’s relief felt almost tangible, so sudden and strong he wondered if Dylan sensed it. He hoped not. He hoped the darkness hid his pathetic happiness at knowing Dylan was staying. They’d been friends for more than ten years. They’d shared a bed more times than Jason could count. Dylan may have suspected Jason’s true feelings, but Jason did his best to never confirm them, especially since Dylan avoided genuine emotions and commitment the way Jason avoided anybody with a press badge hanging around their neck.
Still, Jason rejoiced as Dylan pulled him close. He sank gratefully into the warmth of Dylan’s kiss, comfortable in his friend’s arms. He grew breathless as Dylan began fighting with the buttons of Jason’s jeans.
“Let’s do it here,” Dylan whispered.
Jason glanced around in alarm, searching for the telltale wink of light reflecting off a camera lens. “Somebody will see.”
“There’s nobody around. That’s why we’re in the wilds of Idaho, remember?”
Jason’s protests dwindled as Dylan sank to his knees, pulling Jason’s pants halfway down his hips as he did. He traced his tongue up Jason’s erection. “God, Jase. It’s been too long.”
“I know.” Way too long since he’d had Dylan to himself. Too many lonely nights since he’d felt Dylan’s touch. He’d been in love with his friend for longer than he cared to admit, but this was the first time in months they’d been alone together. Still, he was hesitant to do anything out in the open. “Dylan, wait. I—” His words died as Dylan wrapped his lips around Jason’s glans. “Oh God.”
Dylan sucked him in deep, stalling for moment with his nose pressed against Jason’s pubic bone. Then, finally, he began to move, sliding his warm mouth up and down Jason’s length. Jason gripped the cold porch railing with one hand, tangled the fingers of the other into Dylan’s heavily moussed hair, and tried to lose himself to the pleasure of being sucked by the man he loved. He breathed deep, willing the tension away. Doing his best to banish the pressure of trying to make it in Hollywood and failing, of never living up to what was expected. He tried to forget it all. To simply revel in the pure joy of being with Dylan here and now, knowing they had one full night together, just the two of them. No other struggling actors or desperate starlets. No two-bit directors or double-crossing producers. And above all, no media waiting to catch them with their pants down.
Literally.
But as good as it was being with Dylan, the real world always intruded. His house was set back half an acre from the road, but anybody who came up the drive would be able to see them. The No Trespassing signs wouldn’t mean a thing to a photographer hoping for a scoop.
Jason moaned—part pleasure, part disappointment that even now he couldn’t relax—and opened his eyes. He kept his hand on Dylan’s head as he surveyed the tree line, his chest tight with anxiety at what he might find.
But the grounds around the house—his house, he had to remind himself—were dark and still and silent. Nobody lingered there.
Yes, this could really happen. Jason almost laughed at the realization. He imagined being fucked by Dylan right there on the porch. The thought thrilled him, and his throaty moan made Dylan speed up, his ministrations gaining a new urgency as he sucked Jason’s cock. In the low light on the porch, Jason could barely make out the movement of Dylan’s hand between his legs as he stroked himself.
Did they have any lube handy? Or condoms?
Fuck it. Just this for now. I’ll let him suck me here, where only the moon can see. We’ll have time for the rest later.
He surveyed the yard again, his eyes half-closed, his breath quick and labored as his orgasm neared. He peered past their parked cars. Found the garage. Followed its lines up toward the second-story guesthouse and its single window—
“Holy shit!” Jason jumped back, away from the porch railing, away from Dylan, trying to clumsily pull his pants up and hide himself against the wall.
“What the hell, Jase?” Dylan’s voice was low and hoarse.
“There was somebody—” But there wasn’t. Jason swore he’d seen a face in the window of the apartment over the garage, but now it stood empty except for the unmoving curtains. Jason swallowed hard, willing his heart to stop pounding. He pointed with a shaking hand toward the garage. “I thought I saw somebody in the guesthouse.”
“I’ve never met anybody as paranoid as you.” Dylan pushed himself up from his knees, his pants still hanging open, his erect cock sticking into the night air like some kind of ridiculous talisman. “Not that it isn’t justified, but . . .” He gestured to the empty lawn. “There’s nobody there.”
“I thought I saw—”
“What? A photographer?”
Jason shook his head, holding his pants closed around his waning erection, trying to sort through his thoughts. Had he imagined it? “It was a man.”
“Did he have a camera?”
The question took him aback. “No,” he said, almost surprised at his own answer. He’d seen only a face. Not even a full face, to be honest. Only the pale suggestion of eyes and a chin, and lips held in a comical O of surprise.
But now, the window was empty. The curtains weren’t even swaying. The room over the garage was pitch dark.
“Do you want me to go check?” Dylan asked with the accommodating condescension of a father offering to check for monsters under his teenage daughter’s bed.
“No.” Jason took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, feigning a bravado he didn’t feel. “You’re right. There’s nobody there. I must have been seeing things.”
Dylan grinned and moved closer, wrapping his arms around him. “You need to relax, JayWalk.”
It was the press’s nickname for Jason. He hated it, although it didn’t sound quite so ridiculous when Dylan said it. “I’m trying.”
“You want a drink?”
“That won’t help.”
“Some weed?” He kissed Jason’s neck, pushing his erection insistently against him. “Poppers? A Valium? I have some in my bag. Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll get it. You know that. Anything for you.”
Anything.
As long as it was only for tonight.
Anything he needed, but only until morning.
“Let’s go inside,” Jason said. “I have a brand-new bed in there, you know.”
Dylan’s laugh was throaty and gratifying. “Then let’s go break it in.”
Jason followed him inside, glancing once toward the guesthouse over the garage.
Nobody there.
***
Jason woke to birds chirping happily outside the window. Sunlight was streaming through the thin white curtains, making the entire room feel like a midmorning dream. Dylan slept next to him, his bare back rising and falling with his soft snores. For a while, Jason simply watched him, remembering the night before. Reliving how good it felt to fall asleep next to the man he loved.
If only it could be like this every day.
But no. Dylan would go back to California, and Jason would be left alone in a house that was way too big for him.
He was looking forward to it. Not to Dylan leaving, of course. That’d break his heart, like it always did. But after that, there’d be only him, the house, and the bliss of seclusion. People often said privacy was the last luxury. Jason knew it was true. After a lifetime in the limelight—or chasing the limelight, at any rate—he’d learned that privacy was a commodity more precious than gold, as unattainable as stardom and fame, rarer than real breasts in porn. Privacy was the great white whale, and Jason was determined to harpoon that beast and make it his.
Buying the house had been the first step.
He climbed out of bed and considered what to wear. Of course, the closet and all the drawers were empty. They’d never gotten around to bringing his suitcases in from the car. Some of the boxes in the living room held clothes, but he’d didn’t relish the idea of digging through them naked. He put on the jeans he’d worn the day before and went barefoot down the stairs in search of coffee. He waited until it was brewing to check his cell phone. No messages from Natalie Reuben, his agent. That meant no pictures had surfaced of him and Dylan on the porch.
Not yet, at least.
He took his coffee out onto the veranda. Movement flashed in his peripheral vision, but when he turned, he caught only the unmistakable white tale of a deer bounding into the trees.
“Hey, you can stay,” he called after it. “As long as you don’t have a camera.”
The deer kept running, clearly unimpressed by Jason’s concession.
Jason rested his hip against the railing and searched in vain for more wildlife. Sydney had mentioned deer, caribou, bighorn sheep, and lemmings, although Jason wouldn’t know a lemming if it popped up and said hello. She’d also mentioned foxes, wolves, wolverines, and grizzlies, although she’d assured him those were more elusive. Jason had jokingly told her he’d rather face a grizzly than a photographer. Now, staring out into the woods that surrounded him, he wasn’t so sure.
His eyes fell at last on the garage. It’d been built in the style of an old barn, with a tall, rounded roof. The big doors meant for cars were on the far side of the building. On the near side, there was only a single, person-sized doorway, with a cobblestone path leading to the mudroom off the kitchen. Jason eyed the window on the second floor. Had he really seen somebody in it?
He left his coffee cup on the porch and descended the front steps, angling off the path toward the garage, the frosty grass crunching under his bare feet. It was colder than he expected, each step worse than the one before, and he ended up doing an ungraceful skip-hop-hop across the frozen ground, trying to walk without letting his feet touch the ground any longer than necessary. He imagined he looked like those idiots who walked across coals, so he stopped when he reached the cobblestones and glanced around, hoping no photographers had shown up to capture it on film. No matter how innocuous the activity, the tabloids always managed to put a tantalizing spin on things. He imagined the headlines.
Jadon Walker Buttermore on Drugs! Thinks the Ground Is Hot Lava!
JayWalk in the Throes of Drug-Induced Hallucination!
JayWalking His Way to the Loony Bin!
Not as sensational as a sex tape, but still enough to sell a few copies.
His paranoia proved unwarranted. He saw no sign of trespassers. Then again, he hadn’t seen the photographer who’d taken the pictures of him and Dylan eight months earlier, either. He hadn’t known until Natalie called him the next morning that he’d made StarWatch’s cover once again. In some ways, it had been a relief. He’d been debating the best way to come out for ages. But being outed in such a sensational way hadn’t been part of the plan.
He glanced toward his bedroom, and the second-floor porch, where he and Dylan had made out the night before. He shuddered, thinking how careless he’d been. Some people said there was no such thing as bad press, but those people had clearly never been caught in a tabloid’s crosshairs.
“Can’t let that happen again,” he mumbled as he turned toward the garage.
The door was nothing special. A four-paned window up top, solid wood below. He tried the knob, but found it locked. Nothing of interest when he peered inside, either. Empty spaces where cars belonged and empty shelves along the walls. He knew from viewing the floor plans that the staircase to the guesthouse lay directly to his right, along the same interior wall that held the door, but he couldn’t see it.
He tried the knob a second time, for no good reason whatsoever. Still locked. Not that he’d expected that to change.
If a photographer had found their way inside, would they have thought to lock the door behind them? Would they still be up there, or had they snuck out during the night?
Jason crouched and inspected the cobblestones at his feet, searching for footprints, or—
Well, to be honest, he didn’t know what exactly. Maybe a note written in chalk, “The paparazzi was here”?
He found nothing but dirt and damp cobblestones.
He crossed back over to the house, confident that he looked less ridiculous than he had the first time. He went quietly up the stairs, wondering if Dylan was still asleep. He imagined crawling under his new down comforter, snuggling into the familiar warmth of Dylan’s arms, maybe making love one more time before saying good-bye. It disappointed him to find Dylan already up and half-dressed.
“Hey, there you are,” Dylan said as he buttoned his shirt. His jeans were on too, although his feet were still bare.
Jason settled on the bed and crossed his legs. “Are you leaving already?”
“I have a flight to catch.”
“I see.” Jason had driven his car full of belongings to Idaho and checked into a motel in nearby Coeur d’Alene a few days before the closing. He’d been thrilled when Dylan had called at the last minute and told him he’d booked a flight to Spokane and would be there in time to help Jason with the move. And now here they were: Jason’s bags still sitting in his car in the driveway, and Dylan already with one foot out the door.
Jason fiddled with the ragged hem of his jeans, debating. He wanted to ask what was so urgent that Dylan had to rush out before breakfast. He wanted to suggest that Dylan stay, if not another night, at least a few more hours. But he couldn’t figure out how to say any of it without sounding desperate.
“I have an appointment for new head shots at four,” Dylan went on. “And then later tonight . . .” He grinned mischievously. “I have a hot date.”
Jason’s heart sank. “Oh?”
“Remember Tryss?”
“Victim Number Five, from Summer Camp Nightmare 3?”
“That’s the one. Poor girl has daddy issues from here to the moon, a failed acting career, and a boob job she’s still paying off. It’s like the desperation trifecta.” He winked. “Even you couldn’t turn that down.”
“I have turned that down.”
Dylan laughed and perched on the edge of the love seat to pull on his shoes. When he glanced up again, Jason was surprised to find his expression somber. “It was good seeing you, Jase.”
Jason did his best to keep his tone casual when he answered. “You too."
“I had a great time last night.”
“So did I.” But those words didn't sound casual at all. Jason knew his heartache had crept into his voice, but Dylan showed no sign of having heard it as he crossed the room and put a hand on either side of Jason’s face, leaning close to peer into his eyes.
“You know I love you, right?”
Jason’s heart leapt. He swallowed hard. “You do?”
“Of course. You’re like a brother to me. You know that.”
Jason was pretty sure most brothers didn’t do what they’d done the night before, but he didn’t argue. He only hoped Dylan couldn’t see how much those words hurt him. “I love you too.” He was proud that he managed to keep his voice steady.
And casual.
“You’ll call me if you need anything, right?” Dylan asked.
Jason nodded. “Right,” he lied.
“Good.” Dylan kissed him—not like a brother, certainly, but not quite like a lover either.
Like a friend.
“Take care, JayWalk.”
“You too.”
And then Dylan walked down the stairs. Out the front door. Jason refused to watch. He only listened as Dylan’s car crunched over the gravel drive toward the main road.
And then there was only Jason, and the solitude he’d longed for so desperately.
Funny how solitude and loneliness felt so much alike.
A Boyfriend for Christmas by Jay Northcote
One
Archie surreptitiously checked his watch. His stomach was rumbling and he was wishing he’d eaten more canapés earlier. Hopefully there would be more food coming once the speeches were over.
Heaven help us. Hugo’s been talking for nearly ten minutes now.
And this was only the engagement party. What on earth would his wedding speech be like?
As Archie glanced around the room, he noticed a few other people starting to look restless, even his father—the Honourable Piers Arandale—had a slightly strained expression as Hugo sucked up shamelessly, banging on about what a privilege it would be to be linked to the Arandale family.
What the hell does Lottie see in him?
Sure, Hugo was handsome if you liked his type: tall and blond, with the broad shoulders that came from rowing for Cambridge, and the drawling vowels and seemingly bulletproof confidence that often went along with inherited wealth. In Archie’s case, that particular gift of genetics had passed him by. Perhaps because his older brother and sister had got it all.
Archie wasn’t close to either of his siblings. As he studied Lottie, his sister, he realised he knew nothing about what lay underneath the confident veneer she always projected. She was seated beside Hugo, smiling up at him indulgently. Hugo might not be Archie’s type at all, but he had to admit that he was probably a good match for Lottie. They both worked in finance, helping rich people like themselves stay rich, and fitted effortlessly into the elite circles they’d been born into—unlike Archie. After twenty-one years, he could fake it when he needed to, but he always found it exhausting.
He sighed.
As a child he’d wondered for a while whether he was adopted, but that idea had been dashed when he’d asked his mother about it. “Of course not, darling. Don’t be so silly. Why on earth would you think that?” Later it had occurred to him that he could be illegitimate, once he was old enough to understand what that meant. Perhaps that was why he felt like an outsider in his own family? But puberty had sharpened his features, subtly shifting them so he could see enough of his father staring back at him from the mirror, and he’d had to let go of that theory too.
He was a misfit for no reason.
“—and finally, a huge thank you to all of you who are here this evening to help celebrate our engagement.” Archie tuned back in to Hugo, who was wrapping things up at last.
“To friends and family!” Hugo raised his glass, flashing perfect white teeth as he smiled. “To friends and family,” Archie muttered, before taking a large gulp of champagne.
He felt more alone here, surrounded by people, than he ever did in the solitude of his flat. All his family were present, but there wasn’t a single person in the room who Archie would count as a friend. Depressingly, there wasn’t anyone anywhere in the world who Archie counted as a friend.
A friend was someone you could be yourself with, and Archie had too many secrets to risk that.
After washing his hands, Archie checked the time again. It was just past nine o’clock. He could probably get away with leaving in about half an hour without seeming rude. Alone in the men’s toilets and stalling for time, he studied his appearance critically. With his perfectly groomed hair and his perfectly cut suit, he looked exactly what he was: rich, conventional, and boring. A good little cog in the complex machine of old money and privilege.
He rumpled his hair until it was messy, tugging the fine blond strands into spikes. What would he look like with a piercing in one ear? Or with black liner smudged around his blue-grey eyes? Would his arse look good in the black skinny jeans he hankered after but didn’t dare buy, let alone wear?
The sound of the door made Archie jump out of his skin. He swiftly smoothed his hair back into place, heart pounding as some friend of Hugo’s met his gaze in the mirror and gave him a curt nod as he passed on his way to the urinals.
Hair fixed, Archie rolled his shoulders like a fighter going back into the ring.
One more drink, then he could escape to the refuge of his flat.
Leaning on the bar, Archie caught the eye of one of the servers, a cute guy with dark hair and olive skin.
“Yes, sir. What can I get you?” His accent was European, and the glint in his eyes when he smiled sent a frisson of interest through Archie that was immediately doused by anxiety.
“Whisky and Coke please—make it a double,” Archie replied, letting his gaze slide away as soon as he’d made his request.
Looking around the room, he saw his parents deep in conversation with another middle-aged couple, and a young woman. As he watched, his mother glanced up and saw him. Her face lit up and she said something as she pointed his way, and they all turned to look at him. Then she set off in Archie’s direction with the unerring determination of a guided missile homing in on its target.
Bollocks.
Trapped, Archie waited for the inevitable.
“Here you go, sir.” The server slid a glass across the black marble top of the bar.
“Thanks.” Archie took a fortifying slug of his drink.
“Archie, darling. Where have you been hiding?” She didn’t give him time to reply. “Come with me. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Resistance was futile. Archie let her guide him through the throng, clutching his glass like a shield.
“I found him!” his mother trilled. “Allow me to introduce my younger son, Archibald.” Archie managed not to cringe at her use of his full name. “Archie, this is Jonathan and Celia Berkshire, and their daughter Fiona. She’s a student here in Bristol, doing a master’s in politics and economics. Archie graduated from the University of Bath this summer.”
At these sorts of gatherings, his mother never missed an opportunity to introduce him to single girls who were around his age. She was determined to marry all her children off to other children from wealthy families. His older brother, Henry, was already married with two children so her work was done there. Now Lottie was engaged to Hugo all their mother’s attention would be focused on setting Archie up with a “nice girl”. Archie hadn’t yet dared tell her that he’d rather be set up with a boy—and although his same-sex attraction was still entirely theoretical at this point, he was pretty sure that nice boys didn’t really do it for him either. Give him a bad boy any day.
“Hello, hi, hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” Archie shook hands with the three of them, face arranged into his best polite smile.
Fiona’s smile looked as brittle and uncomfortable as his felt, and they only made eye contact briefly. She was pretty in an understated way, with straight dark hair and intelligent eyes in a heart-shaped face.
“So, Archie. What are you doing now you’ve finished your studies?” Jonathan Berkshire asked.
“Oh, this and that. I’m mostly helping my father out at the moment,” Archie replied smoothly. Since leaving university a few months ago, he’d been trying to decide what he wanted his future to look like, while resisting increasing pressure from his parents to work for his father’s finance company. In the meantime, his father had enlisted his help with some admin relating to properties he owned, which was keeping him busy and keeping his parents off his back—for now at least.
“Ah.” The air of bonhomie slipped a fraction. “Good for you. Enjoying it?”
“Absolutely. Yes.” Wanting to shift the spotlight away from him, Archie turned to Fiona. “What are your plans for next year?”
There was a tense pause before she answered brightly, “I want to stay on at Bristol and do a PhD.” Her gaze flickered to her father.
“Oh really? What area will you specialise in?”
Another loaded silence was broken by Celia Berkshire clearing her throat loudly. “We should leave you young folk to get to know each other.” She beamed meaningfully at them, and Archie could practically see the imaginary grandchildren flashing in her eyes like cartoon dollar signs. “Don’t stick around letting us bore you; go and get yourselves another drink or something.”
They both had drinks in their hands already, but Archie wasn’t going to refuse a chance to escape. “After you?” He smiled at Fiona, who nodded and led the way—not to the bar, but to a table in the corner where it was quieter.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she said as soon as they sat down. “My parents are determined to marry me off as soon as possible, but I’m single and quite happy that way—just so you know.”
Archie snorted in amusement and relief. Having expected to have to make a polite amount of awkward small talk before he could ditch Fiona, her honesty made him want to stick around for a while. “Mine are the same. It’s dreadfully tiresome isn’t it?”
“It’s a bloody nightmare.” She shook her head. “I’ve tried asking her to stop, but it’s like talking to a brick wall. I think she’s secretly hoping that if I get hitched, I’ll give up on my studies and start popping out babies instead.” She wrinkled her nose as though the idea was horrifying. “They never even wanted me to do a degree, let alone a PhD!”
“I sensed the tension.” Archie gave her a sympathetic smile. “So, what is your PhD going to be about?”
She met his gaze and there was a determined glint in her eyes as she replied. “Capitalism, and the role of inherited wealth in perpetuating inequality.”
Archie gaped at her. “You have to be kidding me.”
“I’m not.” Fiona picked up her glass of red wine and took a sip.
He shook his head admiringly. “Bloody hell. You’ve got bigger balls than me. I’m impressed.”
“Really?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Definitely.”
Relaxing, she smiled. “Well, Archie. You just passed the first test where others usually fail. That’s normally a sure-fire way of getting rid of any suitors my parents shove into my path. If I were looking for a boyfriend you might actually be a contender.”
Archie chuckled. “And if I was looking for a girlfriend—which I’m not—I think I could probably do a lot worse than you.”
They grinned at each other.
“How long do you think we have to keep this up?” Fiona asked. “Not that it’s turning out to be too much of a chore after all, talking to you, but I’d like to go home soon.”
“Me too. Ten minutes or so?” That would give them time to finish their drinks. After that Archie reckoned it would be reasonable to say a quick goodbye to Lottie and Hugo, dodge his mother, and make his getaway.
“Yes, that sounds about right. Do you have far to go?”
“Not at all. My flat’s only about ten minutes’ walk away.”
“Oh, that’s handy. I could have done with more alcohol to get through the evening, but I drove. I suppose I could have got a taxi.” Fiona glanced across at their parents again. “Ugh. My mother’s trying to pretend she’s not watching us, but she’s so unsubtle. Can we pretend to swap numbers? That will keep her happy.”
“Of course. Actually….” Archie hesitated as an idea began to take shape. “How about we really do swap numbers? That way we can message each other occasionally, and maybe that’ll keep our parents off our backs for a while? I don’t know about you, but with Christmas looming there are a lot of social engagements coming up, and I’m thoroughly fed up of being thrust under the noses of single girls.”
Her eyes lit up. “Ooh! So, you mean we could let them think there’s something going on? I like the sound of that. There are only so many eligible bachelors I can cope with being polite to before I lose it and behave badly. Let’s do it.”
They swapped phones and typed in their names and numbers before handing them back.
“Thanks, Archie.” Fiona gave him a tentative smile. “I only come to these events to keep my parents happy. I normally never meet anyone who I actually like, but I can imagine being friends with you.”
Touched and flattered, Archie smiled back. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I can imagine it too.”
Fiona raised her glass.
“To friendship.” “To friendship,” he echoed, clinking his glass lightly on hers.
After he and Fiona parted ways, Archie managed to corner Lottie.
“I’m heading off now, sis. Congrats again on snagging Hugo, and thanks for a super party.”
“Thank you, darling.” She beamed at him. “It has been a lovely night, hasn’t it?”
“It really has.”
She lowered her voice. “I’m knackered now though, and these bloody shoes are killing me!”
Chuckling, Archie stepped forward to kiss her cheek. “Hang in there, not too much longer to go. Goodnight, Lottie.”
“Bye, Archie.”
Free to leave, Archie made a beeline for the door. He was almost home and dry when his mother’s voice rose above the background chatter. “Archie, Archie!” He considered feigning deafness and picking up his pace, but feared she’d only get more shrill.
He turned to see her hurrying towards him. “Hello, Mother.”
“Are you sloping off already?” Her expression conveyed disapproval.
“Yes. I know it’s a little early, but I’m feeling slightly under the weather.”
“Hmm. You could at least have come to find me to say goodbye!”
A clear voice from behind Archie said, “I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Arandale, but that’s my fault. I offered Archie a lift home and I’m in a hurry. Sorry to steal him away.”
Archie turned in surprise to see Fiona standing at his shoulder.
“Oh, that’s quite all right, dear. How kind of you to drive him.” Archie’s mother beamed. “In that case I won’t keep you. It was so lovely to meet you, Fiona. I do hope our paths will cross again soon.” Her eyebrows did something meaningful.
“I’m sure they will,” Fiona replied.
“Good night, darling.” Archie’s mother kissed the air near his cheek. “I’ll see you at the Morgan Stryker Christmas party next weekend.”
Archie’s heart sank. He’d forgotten about that particular joy. Of all the events on his social calendar, the ones held by his wealth management company were the ones he hated the most. Maybe he could find an excuse to get out of it. “Oh yes. I’ll probably be there.”
“Your father’s making a speech, remember. I’m sure you’ll want to be there to support him.” Her voice was as sweet as spun sugar, but there was a steely glint in her blue eyes.
“Right. Yes. Of course.” Archie nodded. “See you then!”
Finally free to go, he and Fiona made their escape.
As soon as they got outside Archie breathed a deep sigh of relief, drawing the crisp cold air into his lungs. Christmas lights hung in the trees around the square, reminding him that it was almost December.
“Free at last, eh?” Fiona adjusted her scarf.
“Yes. Thanks for saving me from my mother’s wrath.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she said lightly. “Do you want that lift, seeing as I’m here?”
“No, it’s okay. I’d honestly rather walk. But thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome. See you around.” She flashed him a smile, and then turned and hurried off towards the car park on the other side of the square.
Archie currently didn’t own a car although he had a driving licence. When he was still living at the family home between Bristol and Bath he’d needed to drive to get to uni every day. But now he lived in the city he managed without a vehicle. He’d only moved into his own flat a couple of months ago and enjoyed walking around the city. It was still a novelty living right here in the middle of Bristol rather than in his parents’ house out in the countryside.
He loved everything about the city. The buildings, the parks, the harbourside, the history—not that it was one to be proud of, given that the city was built on the profits of slavery and tobacco. But most of all he loved watching the people. There was so much diversity. It made him realise how very narrow his tiny slice of upper-class privileged life was—in every sense of the word.
Feeling restless and bold, Archie detoured to walk down a street where there were a couple of gay bars. He’d walked past them a couple of times before but hadn’t yet dared to venture inside. As he strolled past on the opposite side of the street, trying not to be too obvious as he scoped it out, the door opened and two men emerged hand in hand.
As soon as they were outside, one of them pulled the other into his arms and kissed him. Not just a quick peck on the lips, but a real kiss, deep and passionate, the sort of kiss that usually came with a romantic soundtrack. Archie stopped, unable to tear his gaze away from them. In the shadow of a tree he was partly hidden from view, but he was in no danger of being spotted anyway. These men only had eyes for each other.
Finally they drew apart, and one of them said softly, “Come on, baby. Let’s go home.”
Heart full of a strange, wild yearning, Archie watched them walk away, hands linked, and their footsteps keeping time until they rounded the corner and were gone.
Alone in the street again, Archie sighed and wondered what it must be like to have someone kiss you like that.
Will I ever find out?
After growing up in California and spending the first ten years of marriage in Colorado, I now live in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with my incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours I spend hunched over the keyboard letting my characters play.
I have to say, Oregon's raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There's something about being cooped up in the house while it pours rain outside, a fire crackles on the hearth inside, and a cup of hot coffee warms my hands, which kindles my imagination.
The intricate and fragile nature of the mind is always fascinating. Having worked with the public through various careers I've come to respect the resilience and strength of the human spirit. I'm always trying to capture that spirit in my writing.
Currently, I work as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for me. When not writing, I can express myself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
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.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
Marie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.
Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.
One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.
Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press.
Dianne Hartsock
EMAIL: diannewrites2@hotmail.com
Alice Winters
EMAIL: alicewintersauthor@gmail.com
VL Locey
Marie Sexton
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO
iTUNES / AUDIBLE / GOOGLE PLAY
TUMBLR / YOU TUBE / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: msexton.author@gmail.com
Jay Northcote
INSTAGRAM / SMASHWORDS / B&N
EMAIL: jaynorthcote@gmail.com
Baby Makes Three by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Winter Oranges by Marie Sexton
A Boyfriend for Christmas by Jay Northcote
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