Summary:
Snow Globe Christmas
Alex had to leave the mean streets of Chicago in a hurry. Now he’s weathering his first Christmas in a small town in Colorado.
Cory had a boyfriend and now he doesn’t, which means the Christmas holiday is turning out to be the loneliest he’s had in years.
When they meet at a Holiday Fair, Alex finds himself being drawn into Cory’s world. A world where there is grace to be found in a simple, home-cooked meal, books read out loud by firelight, and the golden glow of welcome.
Alex has never wanted anything as tame as hearth and home. Now that he wants it, it’s not anything he can have. Nothing feels he deserves, at any rate.
Can Cory and the Spirit of Christmas Present prove to Alex that love is love?
An m/m romance with cakewalks, blizzards, hurt/comfort, a snow globe, hot chocolate kisses, and Christmas!
Although this book is part of A Snow Globe Christmas series, it is a complete stand alone and it isn’t a requirement that you read the previous books to follow along. We wish everyone a happy holiday season.
Summary:
Olympian Holiday
Do you believe in Christmas miracles? Love at first sight? How about getting hit with Cupid’s arrow? Can it happen to you?
Ami is a cupid, behind on his quota. Bringing love to lonely humans is a satisfying career, until he starts to recognize just how lonely he is. It is Christmas time and he can no longer bring himself to do his job.
Paul is an up and coming musician with a happy soul. He has raw talent and the support of family and friends. Success is his for the taking. It’s Christmas time and life is good. Then a stranger comes into his life, and they are a match made in heaven, until Ami just disappears...
Will love bring a Christmas miracle when Ami, the failing cupid, meets Paul, the aspiring musician?
Ami is a cupid, behind on his quota. Bringing love to lonely humans is a satisfying career, until he starts to recognize just how lonely he is. It is Christmas time and he can no longer bring himself to do his job.
Paul is an up and coming musician with a happy soul. He has raw talent and the support of family and friends. Success is his for the taking. It’s Christmas time and life is good. Then a stranger comes into his life, and they are a match made in heaven, until Ami just disappears...
Will love bring a Christmas miracle when Ami, the failing cupid, meets Paul, the aspiring musician?
Summary:
Ah, Christmas. The most magical time of the year. A time when the snow is falling, cider is flowing, and couples are kissing under the mistletoe.
Too bad all that makes me want to gag.
Look, it isn’t that I’m a hater, it’s just that I have a job to do, and this particular holiday is getting in the way of that. And I know what you’ll say, that Micah Noble’s Christmas Tree Farm is a beloved tradition for many of the families of Merrihill, but you have to see the bigger picture here: a five-star luxury resort where overworked Manhattanites can escape to, a serene place of spas and shopping and watching sexy lumberjacks chopping wood…
Oh, wait, scratch that last one. Lumberjacks aren’t my thing. Anymore. Micah Noble cured me of that, which tends to happen when you’re trying to buy someone’s family land to bulldoze to the ground.
He can call me a Scrooge all he wants, but business is business, and pleasure is…well, not something I can afford to think about. Even if it does come packaged in those tight jeans and flannel shirts that make me want to rip them off with my teeth—
No. This is not happening. I will not think of Micah as anything other than an obstacle to getting what I want. A really, really sexy obstacle.
Ugh. Screw Christmas and the sleigh it rode in on.
A sweet and sexy m/m holiday romance novella from USA TODAY Bestselling Authors Ella Frank and Brooke Blaine.
Rivals by Jeff Adams
Summary:Mitchell Turner and Alex Goodman squared off over a face-off dot throughout high school. Their schools were cross-country rivals. Those face-offs were tough on Mitchell because he harbored a huge crush on Alex. High school, and college, are behind the guys and they meet unexpectedly on Thanksgiving Day, once again on the ice. Mitchell is home for the holidays and is thrilled to see his crush all grown up.
Alex asks Mitchell out for coffee to catch up. Could this be the start of something magical for the holidays … and beyond?
After courtship, cohabitation, and learning about love and each other, Andy and Eli face the ultimate test: being separated at Christmas.
Eli’s seen the propaganda—the country boy goes home from the city and realizes his heart is back among the snow, trees, and chickens. A big happy family is something Eli, with his demanding job running a shelter for LGBTQ youth, can’t provide. He’s been readying himself for the other shoe to drop anyway—Andy’s mother is a force of nature, and she wants her little boy home.
Andy may be in Vermont, but his heart is back in Brooklyn with the man who’s battling basement floods and crumbling buildings to bring Christmas to sixty kids who’ve had their hearts broken too many times already. Holiday myths may say that Christmas means going back home to a happy family, but Andy knows happy endings don’t come without a little faith and a lot of hard work. He's got an army ready to put in the elbow grease. If he can get Eli to believe in him, they might just save Christmas after all.
Hot Chocolate Kisses by Jackie North
Chapter 1
Walking over to Main Street to see the Christmas lights, Alex hunkered in his leather jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. The air was clear, drawing into his lungs like sharp-edged whistles. But then Colorado was a mile above sea level, unlike his hometown of Chicago. And while he’d anticipated there to be a difference, he’d never expected anything like this, air that froze in his throat, turning him into ice from the inside out.
Overhead, the sky was a clear black, dotted with stars so bright in the cold air that they twinkled. Of course, the light pollution was keeping the stars around the edges somewhat cloaked, but straight up above him as he tipped his head back, they were diamond-bright against the night sky. There was a metallic scent in the air that supposedly meant more snow was on the way, as if it wasn’t enough that there was still snow slushed in the streets and piled up in dirty heaps on street corners. But that was Colorado, land of snow, from what he’d read about in the papers.
As Alex turned the corner, the bank clock said it was just below freezing, but gave no indication as to how truly cold it felt. He should have brought gloves. His coat was fancy, but thin, inadequate, but there was nothing he could do about that now.
And nothing he could do about the crowd of warmly dressed people watching the night-time parade of lights as it wove slowly down Main Street towards the train tracks. There, according to the flyer Alex remembered seeing, the parade would go along the tracks and then head up the hill to go through the historic district, where old homes of timber and brick solidified by time were lit up, waiting for the grand procession.
It was all very Christmassy, and that was the point. Angela had left three messages on his cell demanding he get out of the house, get some fresh air, meet some people. Each message was followed up by the reminder that he’d not left the dangerous, crime-ridden streets of Chicago just to hide out in his apartment for the rest of his life. Well, Chicago’s streets weren’t any more dangerous than any other big city, and Angela knew that. The problem had been Alex himself, hanging out with a bad crowd, getting drawn into back alleys and dive bars when the hour was way too late for decent folk to be out and about.
She was the one who’d persuaded him to come out west, to Colorado, where she was currently living with her boyfriend, Richard. They were going to be married in February, in a fancy heart-themed wedding and, down to the last detail, it would be organized razor sharp. But for all of Angela’s structured nature, her linear soul, there was love for him in everything she did or said or wanted for him. Come out west, she’d said. You can stay with us or get your own place. Start new. Be where it’s safe. In the end, Richard had gotten on the phone and, in his casual way, said, It’s probably a good idea.
Richard had always seemed like a sensible guy when Alex had talked to him over the phone, even if that had never been very often. So here he was. Standing on the corner of Third and Main, an address so quintessentially small town that he should not have been surprised to see the Christmas lights, and the Santa on the corner handing out hot chestnuts from an open brazier, or the number of smaller children, well bundled to the cold, dancing on the sidewalks with the lights of the parade and the street reflecting in their eyes. It was Christmas as it ought to be done, that much was obvious. It was the kind of holiday scene he’d only read about in books or seen in old movies, back in the day when everything seemed right and good.
His cell phone in his back pocket rang, a low, unassuming kind of ring that wouldn’t have drawn any attention anywhere, not in Chicago, and certainly not in the small town of Harlin. When he pulled it out of his back pocket, he saw it was Angela. When he tapped the cell phone and brought it to his ear, he had to squint to hear above the din.
“Hey, sis,” he said. He’d talked more to her in the last month than he had in the last two years. She was rectifying that in her usual way, by just reaching out to him, over and over, until he picked up. “I’m outside. I’m looking at the parade.”
“You should go down to Second Street,” she said. “The view is very good there because they have to slow down. You’re outside, for real?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s just going to take me some time, you know?” And it was. Sometimes he was so lonely for the familiar, a voice, a face, the guys he knew at the bar in Chicago, that he felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest.
“I know,” she said, and there was a gentleness in her voice. “It was hard for me when I came out, so I know.”
Alex thought about bringing up their parents, who were living in Florida and who never seemed to remember that they had two children. And yes, he and Angela were fully grown, but it would have been nice to get a card from Mom and Dad once in a while. But those regrets were in the past. Besides, the two years since Angela had moved to Colorado, leaving him in Chicago, were over now. They could be close, like they once had been, brother and sister, laughing it up, sharing their worlds. If he let them. And he would, once he found his footing. Everything felt so new after his recent move to Harlin to be near Angela.
“Did you apply at the temp agency?” Angela asked. “I know it’s not what you want, but it’ll keep you busy, keep the cash flowing until you find something you want to do.”
“I did,” he said. He had a thousand bucks in a paper bag beneath his mattress, so he was good for now. And he felt no irritation at her prying, because she only wanted the best for him. And she knew how edgy he got without something to do, some purpose. It might have been two years since they’d last seen each other, a gap that was wide enough to make it feel as though you ought to have wings to get from one side to the other, but they still cared about each other. “I’m not expecting much.”
“It’ll give you some credibility when you do find a job you like,” she said. “Anyway, enough of that now. Don’t forget, in addition to the parade, there’s a dance, and a dinner, another dance—”
“Two dances?”
“One’s for families, and the other is for couples.” Angela gave a small laugh. “I even think one of the dances has a cakewalk. Remember those?”
“Yeah,” said Alex, softly. He’d once won an entire orange-flavored pound cake that he’d shared with her, and though they’d been groaning over their full bellies, he still remembered that sweet, nostalgic flavor. “Wish I’d gotten the recipe.”
“It’s somewhere on the internets now,” she said. “Oh, and also, don’t forget about the Holiday Fair at the county fairgrounds. We sell all things for the holidays and do Christmas right. That’s where I’ve been working part time, just for fun. You know, to be a part of it all.”
Being a part of it all was Angela’s motto. Except in her mind, being a part of it all did not involve guns or drugs or rough characters who slept on mattresses on the floor. All of which had been part of Alex’s life, back in Chicago. Well, not anymore.
“I’m going to be a part of it all,” he said to her. “Just give me some time.”
“You could be a part of it all if you found a nice local girl to take to one of those dances. You could show her your mad cakewalking skills.”
Hearing the laugh in her voice, Alex made himself smile and laugh a little bit, too. It always came to this point, or at least it had seemed to, where she’d encourage him to find somebody special and he couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t turn out to be a lie later. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being gay, just that he felt odd talking about anything so personal, so it just shut him up. Maybe him shutting down was part of the reason she’d left Chicago, and maybe he should just up and tell her. It was stupid not to. After all, all they had was each other. And Richard, of course.
“I just want the cake,” he said.
“You and your sweet tooth,” she said.
He smiled through the phone at her and felt her smiling back. They might not always see eye-to-eye on everything in the world, but there was a kindness to her, a strength, that he’d missed. And maybe he’d not realized it until this very moment, where he was standing on the corner, feeling warm and loved despite the cold.
“I’m going to walk down to Second Street now,” he told her. “I hear the view of the parade is very good there.”
“That’s what I hear, too,” she said. “Bye for now. Love you.”
It was the love you part that always got to him, like a quick, sweet stab of affection, and love, and the deepest loyalty. He was lucky to have a sister. Some people didn’t.
“Love you, too,” he said. “I’ll call later.” Then he clicked off.
Turning the phone’s ringer down, the way he used to do in Chicago so he wouldn’t have to get any more calls, he stuffed it in his back pocket. Then he put his hands in the pockets of his thin, black leather jacket, and realized how much colder he’d gotten just standing there. To warm up, he walked briskly down Main Street, right to where the crowd was the biggest, where the kids were dancing, their eyes shining like they were lit from within by the Christmas spirit. Around them, parents and grandparents, all with happy but watchful expressions on their faces, stood back so the kids could get a better view.
There was a little path between the adults and the kids, a narrow way that, if he could manage it, would take him right down the block where the view of the parade would be brilliant. He didn’t intend to stay long; it was too cold for that.
Turning slightly sideways, he hurried behind the kids, casting apologetic glances at the parents, who backed up good-naturedly. He almost tripped over some misaligned bricks in the sidewalk, but in a few moments he was there, on the corner. The parade loomed over the sidewalk in all the colors of the rainbow, all bright, like stars, twinkling good cheer and happiness. Around him, children shrieked and laughed as the costumed performers tossed candy and red and green paper petals, which streamed down and landed like colorful snow on his shoulders.
It was Christmas, for sure. Christmas in a small town was way different from the sleek productions that happened in Chicago, for here, while everything was bright, as bright as could be, it was on a smaller scale. A friendlier scale that was starting to make him feel like if he stuck around, he could be a part of it all.
Still, old habits were dying hard because he found himself scanning the crowd as if there was some unknown danger lurking. And there might have been, sure, but maybe it was too cold for real criminals and they could not have withstood the good tidings of comfort and cheer that were dense enough to feel like a warm blanket.
But someone stood out. Across the street, on the other side of the swell of festivities, stood a man in a long, dark woolen coat who drew Alex’s eye. The guy stood there like he was waiting for a taxi in front of the Waldorf Astoria. His head was held high, hands in the pockets of his long blue coat that, at this distance, looked like cashmere. He stood quite still, letting the layers of holiday makers stream past him as though he was a boulder in a busy stream.
Alex couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but his hair shone gold beneath the streetlights, his face tilted up, and there was a smile curving his mouth. It was kind of odd to see him standing so still, when everything around him was activity, but it was like he was soaking it into his body, as though he wanted to store it so he could take the holiday cheer out and look at it later.
From behind him, someone bumped into Alex, startling him out of these unusual deep thoughts. When he turned, he saw it was an older man with twinkling blue eyes and glasses and a white, bushy mustache. He was also dressed as a dapper city version of Santa, with a trim red suit, red scarf, green mittens, and a red Santa hat with red trim on his white-haired head.
“Hey, young fellow,” said the man. “Here’s you a flyer. It’s got all the holiday events listed. It’s got information about the dances, too, and one of them’s got a cakewalk, don’t you know.”
The older man paused, his finger pointing at the list of events.
“You new in town?” he asked kindly. “I don’t recognize you at all.”
“Yes,” said Alex. Small towns. In the movies, everybody knew everybody’s business, it seemed, and so it must be true, as the guy had spotted him as being a newly arrived stranger in under a minute. “Arrived about a week or so ago.”
“Then you need to come to the events, young fellow, so you can be neighborly and meet folks,” said the man. “And welcome to Harlin.”
With a hearty pat on the shoulder, the older man handed Alex the flyer and moved through the crowd, handing out greetings, and holiday cheers, and flyers. Lots and lots of flyers.
As Alex stuffed the flyer in his pocket, he looked up to see that people who had overheard the conversation were nodding and smiling greetings at him as though they agreed with the Christmas guy and wanted to be welcoming and neighborly. That could be his imagination, or it might be that Harlin was like that. That once a guy who dressed like Santa patted you on the shoulder and handed you a flyer, you were welcome among them. He was starting to become a part of it all, or at least more than he had been. Now, if only he could get a warmer coat.
Cupid's Christmas Arrow by Lynn Michaels
1
Ami had been called to the boss’s office and he was about to meet the head man himself. It had never happened to him before. The other cupids had told him that Eros knew everything that went on, but Ami was just one minor god with a tiny territory, so unimportant that Eros couldn’t ever be interested in him. Ami didn't believe it. Yet, there he was knocking on Eros's office door.
“Enter,” Eros called, his voice young and squeaky like a boy just hitting puberty.
“Sir?” Ami asked, stepping inside.
Eros peered up at him with big blue eyes. He brushed his blond curls off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Sit down, please.”
Ami sank into the rickety office chair in front of the large desk.
“Sorry, there's never enough in the budget for nice chairs.” It had to be a joke. What budget did the gods have? Eros smiled, his lips really were like a bow, perfect and cherry red. “Listen, Ami. All kidding aside. This is serious. We need to talk about your performance. Christmas season is coming.”
“Yes, uh, sir?” Ami didn't know if he should call someone who looked like a teenager sir, but he knew despite his looks, Eros was older than sin—literally.
“The last few years your numbers have taken a nosedive at Christmas. What gives? I mean, really. Christmas is the most romantic holiday, outside of our day.”
Ami didn't say anything. He sucked in his bottom lip and chewed on it. Eros was right. Every year at Christmas, his job became...impossible.
Eros cleared his throat and picked a piece of paper up off his desk. “Right. You missed quota by an ever increasing margin each year. But, the rest of the year...you're fine. Valentine's Day is smashing!”
“Valentine's Day is easy. Everyone is looking for a lover on Valentine's Day. They practically throw themselves on my arrows.”
“I get that, Ami. Our day is always easy, but that doesn't mean you get to ignore Christmas.”
Ami exhaled, loudly. How could he even begin to explain himself? He closed his eyes. “It's...I'm not, ugh! I don't ignore Christmas. It's just...my hunting grounds aren't conducive to Christmas love.”
Eros's eyebrows narrowed above his eyes, scowling at him. He didn't even have to say one word. Ami knew. Eros didn’t want to hear his excuses.
“I can give you advice, Ami. I can partner you up with a more experienced cupid. What I can't do is just accept that you're missing your quota again.”
“Sir...” Ami held his hands up. “This area becomes so festive. The lonely? I don't know. They hide or something. I can never find anyone needing love at Christmas. People here are more generous—”
“Bullshit. Ami. I don't want to hear it. Even happy people need love. You know it’s not the same thing.”
Ami stuck his fingers beneath his legs. His crisp slacks rubbed across his knuckles. “It’s not just that. I mean...I think maybe I’ve just exhausted the territory...”
“Also bullshit.”
Ami hated that Eros called him out. He didn’t know why Christmas was so difficult. It just was. It hadn’t always been that way. Christmas tended to make a lot of people lonelier, especially if they couldn’t be around family and loved ones. Christmas was the time of year when nostalgia made people hurt just a little more. Yet, around Ami...he couldn’t find anyone who needed love. Or maybe it was just too hard to look. Maybe there was something wrong with Ami? He didn’t want to believe that. He let out a sigh. “I don’t know...”
“Well, I'm lowering your quota to four. From Thanksgiving Day until end of the day Christmas. Last year you hit four, so you can at least match that. Right?”
“Uh...I guess.”
“Don't guess. Know.” Eros pointed at him. Why did he have to look so young? “I'm serious, Ami.”
“I get it.”
“Good...now, go shoot some lovers!” Eros wiggled his eyebrows and Ami couldn't help smiling a little.
Ami stood up. “Thank you, sir.” He turned to leave.
“If you miss quota this year. I don't have to tell you what's going to happen do I?”
Ami looked over his shoulder. Eros was dead serious. “No, sir. Thank you.” Indeed, Ami did know. He'd be fired. Throughout the rest of the year, that seemed unsatisfying. He loved his job, but at Christmas time? Nah, he thought maybe that fate wouldn't be so bad. At Christmas time, almost anything looked better than finding the bitter loneliness inside others. Though, he'd never known a cupid to be fired and he had no idea how he'd spend eternity without a job. What else could he even do?
He made his way to the locker room and pulled out his wool coat and his leather bag that held his arrows. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on leather gloves. His hunting grounds were cold this time of year. Thanksgiving was only a few days away and he needed to start scoping out the area.
He would fit in, looking like he belonged in the upscale area. He had a striped shirt tucked into his slacks under that jacket and his belt and shoes were high quality. His blond hair was short and manipulated into a professional style. He looked like any other young office worker moving in and out of high rise buildings. Maybe his bag was a little bigger than most, but he could pass as a courier or something. He looked a few years older than Eros; at least around his eyes, though his body was slight and smaller than Eros, his shoulders not as broad or as muscular. Yet, he wasn’t unattractive. Maybe a little on the thin side. It would have to do.
Satisfied with his appearance, he took a deep breath and spirited himself down to his hunting grounds in the big city of New Cabel.
Once Upon a Sexy Scrooge by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine
MAXWELL
Present Day
AS I SAT in my car in the never-ending traffic jam that was Midtown Manhattan, I scowled at each and every one of the pedestrians who strolled so happily down the sidewalks with their heaps of shopping bags, their bright eyes taking in the overdone holiday window displays like they’d never seen an animatronic Santa before.
The whole scene made me roll my eyes.
Didn’t they know there was nothing magical about this time of year? Thousands of people piled into the city, cramming our already strained subways and streets, pouring money into big-box stores that only cared about their bottom dollar and how to win the rat race.
I would know. I was one of them.
With the traffic still unmoving, I put my car in park and sighed, letting my head drop against the headrest.
Was it just me, or had this year been a constant struggle to keep my head above water? It didn’t make sense, though. I’d moved up in the company I worked for, an acquisitions firm at the top of its game, so finances would never be a worry. I had more money than I knew what to do with, not that it helped much in my current circumstances, other than the heated seats keeping my ass warm.
Horns blasted all around me, and I looked up to see the light had flipped to green, but the mass of people on the crosswalk hadn’t eased. It was a damn free-for-all, and some of the taxi drivers had apparently had enough.
They inched forward, almost close enough to graze, but that didn’t do much to give them a clear path. But once a pair of men stepped onto the crosswalk carrying a Christmas tree between them, the shouts began.
“Get outta the damn road!”
“Hey! You want a pair of broken legs for Christmas?”
“Imma shove that tree right up your—”
Aaand on that note, I hit the button to close the inch of window I’d had down for some fresh air.
Christmas. It brought out the best in everyone.
I glanced at my watch and tapped on the steering wheel, my patience running thin. I’d been due at the office nearly fifteen minutes ago, but thanks to this circus, I was now running late. Didn’t these people have places to be? Families to visit or something? Surely after five department stores, they all started to look the same.
But as people hurried across the street weaving in and out of the idling vehicles, it was starting to look like they had the better idea. Maybe I should get out and walk the last five blocks. It would probably be quicker.
As the light cycled back to red without us moving an inch, I turned on the radio and groaned at the DJ wishing everyone a merry Christmas. See, this was the problem with this particular holiday—you couldn’t escape it. The second that last bite of turkey was eaten, it was as though a switch was flipped and everything turned sparkly and new.
There was even a set playlist for this time of year that was pulled out and played ad nauseum until everyone was so sick of the songs they were happy when they were put away for the other eleven months of the year.
It was a farce, the whole damn thing. A scheme dreamed up by greedy men who decided it was just another way to make a buck.
“So cynical, Max. What happened to make you that way?”
I blinked as the deep, familiar voice filled my head. It was so clear that I even caught myself looking at my empty passenger seat as a sappy song about coming home for Christmas started to play on the radio.
Seriously, now I was hallucinating?
I squeezed the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes, my mind wandering back to a small town outside of the city. A place where, for a moment in time, I’d forgotten the hustle and bustle of the real world and been swept up by holiday magic…
Rivals by Jeff Adams
“When did you get a slap shot?” I was stunned and I knew my face showed it. It wasn’t often that Trevor surprised me on the ice.
“I’ve been working on it,” he said, pride coming through in his voice. “I’m trying to get on an intramural team next fall for my last year. I figure I can run in the spring and play a little hockey in the fall. It’ll beat tryin’ to get in on some pick up game, which are always over crowded.”
We were dressed in sweats, along with gloves and skates. We didn’t go for full pads or helmets since we were just messing around, not taking any real shots or anything that could hurt us.
The metallic clank of the rink’s front door echoed across the ice. Trevor and I looked at each other and shrugged. On a holiday morning we hadn’t expected to see anyone else. The rink wasn’t due to open until noon, so even the staff whould be hours away from coming to work. It had to be some other crazy person, like us, who wanted a little ice before it was time to eat.
I took the puck off Trevor’s stick and started skating around in random patterns. “Come on, Trev, “ I said tauntingly, “get the puck.”
“You’re on!”
As soon as he started to skate, I turned on the backwards speed and put some distance between us. We kept at it for a couple minutes before he finally faked me out and claimed the puck.
“And Mitchell Turner has the puck stripped off his stick by his persistent younger brother, Trevor.” A man stood on the first level of bleachers, applauding.
“Holy shit, Alex Goodman,” I said, louder than I’d intended.
I hadn’t seen Alex since my senior year of high school hockey ended. We were cross-county rivals then. I had a wicked crush on him, too. He’d gotten even better looking during the past four years—a red goatee now accentuated his blazing red hair. The tight, long-sleeved workout shirt showed off his chest in eye-popping detail. I sprinted to the boards where we bumped fists and shook hands. “I didn’t think we’d run into anyone else this morning. What’re you up to?”
“Came down to get a skate in before spending the day with the family,” he said. His deep voice was incredibly sexy. I didn’t remember him sounding like this. “Man, it’s been forever. I don’t think we’ve seen each other since you guys knocked us out of the race for the state championship our senior year.”
I thought about that for a moment. “I think you’re right.”
Alex was built—all I wanted to do right now was feel up his biceps. His green eyes were as mesmerizing as ever. I’d had a hard time concentrating on face-offs against him because all I wanted to do was stare into his eyes and get to know him.
The one time I’d seen him away from a rink was during the summer between our junior and senior years. I ran into him at the mall. I don’t remember what we talked about, but seeing him in shorts, which exposed his muscular, lightly hairy legs, and how his t-shirt clung to his chest made that day perfect. It was jack-off material for months as I imagined what was under those clothes and what I’d like to do to him if I could get him naked.
“What’re you up to these days?” I asked, keeping the conversation appropriate as Trevor skated around behind me.
“I cover sports for the Free Press—Michigan and Red Wings hockey during the season and then whatever they assign me to in the off. What about you?”
“Working in sports marketing out in San Francisco.”
“Nice. Sounds like a sweet gig.”
“It’s pretty good. We do a fair bit with the Sharks, so I like that part a lot.”
“I wrote about you quite a bit while I was interning during school. You certainly earned your keep with the Wolverines.”
My face got hot. I must have turned several shades of red. His eyes were working on me just like they used to, making it hard to focus.
“Thanks. It was a lot of work, but it was fun.”
“You play out west?”
“Hell yeah. As often as I can. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. What about you?”
“At least a couple times a week.”
“Listen, a friend of mine is having a pick up game Saturday morning,” I couldn’t believe I said that. This was an invitation to be flustered during the game, even more so than I used to be. “You interested?”
“I’d love to. We’ll see if I can take you in a face-off like I used to.”
“I won a fair number of those.”
“Really?” He raised a red eyebrow in surprise. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“You want to try it right now?” I was setting myself up to fail. I was already loopy from seeing this man. The pressure in my cup was proof of that.
“You’re on.” He must have put his skates on in the locker room or lobby, because he immediately hopped over the boards. We skated towards Trevor, who was taking shots on the far side of the rink.
“Trev,” I called out, “let Alex borrow your gloves and come drop a puck for us.” He grabbed one off the ice and skated up to us at the center dot. “Trevor, this is Alex Goodman. He played for County.”
“Nice to meet you,” Trevor said, giving Alex a fist bump before handing over his gloves. “So, um, what exactly are you guys doing?”
“Proving to your brother that I can still beat him in a face-off,” Alex said.
“Ahhh. Best two out of three then, just to make it fair,” Trevor said.
“I’m game for that,” I said as I took position on one side of the dot. Stick on the ice, hunched over, ready to strike.
“Sounds good,” Alex said. He got into a similar position as soon as he was gloved up.
“This is just the face off, so whoever gets the puck off the dot wins,” Trevor said. “You two stay where you are after that and I’ll reset.”
Trevor held the puck over the dot. I kept my eyes on his hand, and away from Alex’s gaze. I felt Alex looking at me, but I had eyes only for the puck. Trevor’s hand twitched and then he opened it to drop the puck. As it was falling, I put my stick under Alex’s and lifted it off the ice. The puck landed flat and I swept my stick back, sending the puck behind me.
“One down, one to go,” I said.
“I figure I had to give you one.” Alex’s eyes sparkled, which seemed impossible under the harsh rink lights.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I sounded calm and cool, but the butterflies were going. I’d focused so much on work since I’d graduated in the spring that I hadn’t really dated. I hadn’t even had a good hookup, so I was horny as hell. Alex brought it all to the surface. If Trevor wasn’t here, I’d probably tackle Alex and hope he wouldn’t try to beat the crap out of me for making that kind of play.
We set up again over the dot. Both anticipating, sticks banging against each other in the hopes of being in the right place when Trevor made the drop.
“It’s mine this time,” Alex said, just above a whisper—a damn sexy whisper. I wanted to hear him say more in that voice. I was slow to react when the puck dropped a second later. I was too caught up wondering what my name would sound like if he said it with that husky, low whisper. Alex easily won, knocking the puck to the side. “Told ya,” he said as we stood up.
“Okay, guys, third one decides it.” Trevor looked to me. “Come on, Mitchell, family honor at stake here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, getting into position and focusing, or trying to focus anyway.
Alex and I got into a staring contest waiting for the puck. He had a relaxed smile, but an intense eye lock. What was going on in there? I didn’t remember the smile from our high school days; back then he was serious and stern. I held the gaze, but when the puck dropped I was ready. I scooped it away with the backside of my stick and skated backwards, carrying it away from the dot. Alex took off after me and we ended up in a speedier version of the keep away game Trevor and I had played earlier. I dodged to my right to open up space and sprint away, but Alex anticipated the move and I ended up plowing right into him. He was ready for the impact, staying upright, while I bounced off his chest and crashed to the ice.
He took off his glove to help me up. “Sorry about that. I figured you’d stop, not slam into me.”
“No worries.”
No worries at all. Hell, that was awesome. Alex was as rock solid as he looked. I’d love to run into that again, except next time I’d hold on instead of bounce off. I accepted his hand to stand up and then wiped the ice off my sweatpants.
“Congrats on that nice move to win.”
“Thanks.”
“How about I buy the winner coffee tomorrow?” he asked as we skated towards Trevor. “We can catch up.”
“I’d like that.”
“Excellent. How about seven o’clock at Jazzy Joe’s?”
“Sounds great.”
“Okay. I’ll let you get back to it. I’m going to go run my sprints on the other rink. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mitchell.”
Alex skated off, hopped over the boards and headed to the other rink. I stood, watching long after he’d gone. Wow. I was going to sit across a table from him tomorrow.
“Drool much?” Trevor said, skating to a stop next to me.
“Shut up.” I shoved him away, causing him to get tripped up, but he recovered before he fell. “It’s coffee and catch up.”
“Keep telling yourself that, bro.” Trevor shifted from poking fun to more serious. “I saw how you looked at him… and how he looked at you.” Despite being younger, Trevor had a knack for making a point. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a date, Mitchell, so why not enjoy it?”
“Who said this was a date?” I asked, not wanting to drive up my expectations. “Don’t you imagine he’s dating someone, or even married?”
“You’re not. Why does he have to be?”
“Okay. Stop. It’s just coffee.”
“We’ll talk when you get home and see if it was just coffee.” He scooted the puck out from in front of me and took off. “Catch me if you can, Mitchell.”
ChrisMyths by Amy Lane
Chapter 1: Nobody Ever Misses the Big City
“ANDY—ANDY, it’s time to get up. Your train leaves in an hour.”
Andy Chambers rolled over in bed and pulled the pillow over his head. “You can’t make me,” he said. “I live here, I pay rent, you can’t make me.”
Eli Engel, boy of his dreams, cosigner of his lease, welcome pain in his ass, smacked him on the backside.
“Andy, you have to. It’s your family. I’m just some schmuck that’s stolen you away for the last three years.”
Andy groaned and eyeballed the man he loved more than life. “I keep telling you they don’t think like that.”
Eli’s mouth—full and smiling most of the time—went crooked. “And yet they don’t visit either.”
“They think New York City is evil,” Andy muttered. “And Brooklyn’s the moon.” With ill-disguised reluctance, Andy swung his feet over the edge of the bed and straight into his moccasins while he reached for the sweatshirt he kept by the end table. Their apartment in trendy Williamsburg had great hardwood floors, but those floors got chilly in December. The whole apartment got chilly in December. Mostly, Andy and Eli fought the cold by wearing layers around the apartment and by fucking like monkeys. Even though he was launching straight into the shower from bed, Andy didn’t want to make the trip without an extra layer.
“Well, family is important,” Eli said. “You go visit your family for Christmas, and I’ll be here when you get back. Now shower. I’ll go make you breakfast.”
Andy watched his retreating back miserably. “Family is important,” he’d said. But Eli didn’t have any family. He’d been kicked out of his parents’ house for being gay and had spent months on the streets before being taken in by Rainbow House, a shelter down in Bedford/Stuyvesant. They’d helped him apply for college and get scholarships—he’d gone to NYU, gotten a degree in management, and turned right back around and started working at Rainbow House, doing everything from fundraising to organizing sports programs for the residents. Rainbow House was open to everybody, but it specialized in LGBTQ youth, and Eli was their biggest success story and most ardent advocate. He loved the employees there with all his heart, but when all was said and done, they all went home to their families for Christmas.
For the last three years, Andy had spent Christmas with Eli, celebrating with the residents of Rainbow House.
Having Eli tell him “Family is important, go visit yours,” was painfully generous—and Andy hated it.
But his mother had been absolutely incessant.
“Two phone calls a day, Andy,” Eli had told him at the beginning of December. “I mean, I get your family is super close, but two phone calls a day? Man, you’ve got to go visit them or they’ll never leave us alone. We’ll be answering their calls in the middle of sex into our sixties!”
Andy had snorted at that unlikely scenario, but he’d also softened.
“Our sixties?” he’d asked winsomely. “You promise?”
Eli had looked away, biting his lip. Andy had done his best to help his lover believe in forever, but Eli had a lot of damage to overcome. That was okay—Andy was up for the job.
“Just go,” he’d said, not looking Andy in the eyes. “Your job practically shuts down during those two weeks. Take the time off, go visit your parents, and come back to Brooklyn.”
Andy had sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was true that his job in a local tech firm really did shut down over Christmas, but that’s not what Eli was saying.
Andy knew because Eli had been saying it from the very beginning of their relationship.
Back Then
“OH! HEY! You dropped your umbrella!”
Andy was the kind of guy who bought trench coats with an umbrella pocket and then had an extra spot on his waterproof briefcase for a spare. But this guy, with curly dark hair falling into brown eyes and a bony jaw covered with stubble, looked like the kind of guy who went out in the rain frequently and then wondered why he caught cold. Andy had been watching the guy on the train for the last few weeks, feeling vaguely protective over him. Andy had been rooming in Park Slope then, with a group of new hires for his tech firm. They all commuted to Williamsburg, and Andy had seen this guy getting off in Bed/Stuy and had worried for him. He’d looked so earnest, so focused on being somewhere else. Andy, who had grown up in the country, had loved the city because it meant he had to be focused on the now.
“Oh,” said the sloe-eyed stranger. “Thank you.” He gave a shy smile. “Good luck, this.” He shook the umbrella Andy had handed him. “It looks like rain.”
“Well, stay dry,” Andy had replied awkwardly. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”
For a moment he saw hope in the stranger’s eyes. Excitement.
“You’ll have better things to do tomorrow,” the stranger told him with a wink, and then his stop had come and he’d been gone. Andy had turned to Zinnia, one of his roommates, and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I’ve seen him on the train before. I think he thinks you’re cute.”
“I thought so too, but he seems absolutely certain I’ll have something else better to do.”
Zinnia snorted. “Prove him wrong!”
The next day, Andy had tucked three kinds of protein bars in his pocket—one with chocolate, one with nuts, and one that was a veganese delight. As the dark-eyed stranger stood to get ready for his stop, Andy held out the breakfast bars and said, “Here, breakfast on me.”
The stranger had gaped at him in surprise. “I, uhm—”
“I bet you skip it, right?” Andy said. “I mean, you look super focused on your job or whatever, but you should have breakfast.”
The subway hissed in preparation to stop, and Andy felt a little desperate.
“Please?” he said. “I’ll bring you one tomorrow too!”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” the stranger told him, his wide, full mouth quirking up in a smile.
“Then I’ll bring you one Saturday,” Andy said, pretty much past pride. This man’s brown eyes were fathomless, like the night sky full of stars.
“Okay,” the man said, taking the one with chocolate. “I’ll bring coffee.”
“Lots of cream and sugar,” Andy said, trying not to be embarrassed. Since he’d come to the city, it seemed like all New Yorkers took their coffee black.
The next day, Andy dressed casually, wearing his wool peacoat from his Vermont winters instead of his slick lined trench coat. But he still carried an umbrella—and a selection of protein bars—and took the same train as usual to Williamsburg.
This time when the doors opened three stops before Bed/Stuy, he saw the dark-eyed stranger get in, carrying two paper cups of coffee.
With a shy smile, the man came and sat down next to him, handed him the coffee, and accepted the breakfast bar in return.
“My name’s Eli,” he said, and Andy noted he’d tried to shave in the last twenty-four hours, but there were still patches of stubble like he’d forgotten a lot.
“I’m Andy.”
“So, Andy, where are we going today?”
Andy had grinned. “I just got a raise. I was hoping to find an apartment in Williamsburg. Want to come with me?”
Eli grinned. “Sure. I work for a nonprofit—it’ll be nice to dream.”
And Now
THEY’D EVENTUALLY found the perfect apartment, and by then, Andy wanted Eli to move into it with him. The only problem, he realized, was that to Eli, all of it—Andy, the job he loved, the safety of the home—all of it was a dream, and he still dreaded waking up to an awful reality of being alone every morning.
And now Andy was leaving him for Christmas.
Andy raced through his shower and getting dressed. His suitcase was already packed, including gifts that needed wrapping. He wanted as much time with Eli as possible before he took off for the train.
Eli was already dressed when Andy got out, and he’d scrambled eggs with some toast for breakfast. Andy looked at the plate waiting for him on the counter in the kitchen and wanted to cry.
He’d been the one who’d made Eli eat breakfast for three years. Eli never remembered to eat—had become too used to not eating when he’d lived on the street or been broke and going through school. Three years of Andy stuffing his pockets with breakfast bars or getting up early so breakfast was on the table, and now Andy was leaving him and Eli was the one sending him off with breakfast. It didn’t seem fair.
He’d even sliced some green onion and tomato to put on top.
“What?” Eli asked anxiously as Andy stared at the plate. “It’s not good?”
Andy forced himself to take a bite. “It’s delicious, babe. You’re getting better.”
Eli rolled his eyes. “You left enough food for an army.”
As if. “The refrigerator is too small for an army. And you’ll run out in a week, so, you know, don’t forget to eat.”
Eli shrugged. “Most of me will still be here if—when you get back.” He grimaced and clapped his hand over his mouth, but he’d said it, and Andy knew he’d meant it.
“When. Oh my God, Eli. We’ve lived here for three years. What do you think is going to happen? I’m going to go visit my parents and forget I’m in love?”
“It’s Vermont over Christmas, Andy. You’ve seen the propaganda. You’ll go home, your parents will convince you the city was a bad dream, and I’ll be the first thing you forget.”
Andy gaped at him, suddenly angry. Three years? Three years and Eli didn’t trust him more than this? “You complete asshole,” he said, voice choked. “You think I could forget you? I’ll show you. I’ll come back in two weeks, and you’re gonna have to eat those words.”
Eli regarded him with deep skepticism. “You gonna cook them up like pizza?”
Damn him. Andy’s mouth quirked. “Yes, asshole. I’m going to cook up a giant pizza that says Eli, I Love You and make you eat the fucking pizza. Two weeks. Love to Mom, a few handshakes with Dad, some bonding with my siblings while I convince them to get the hell out of Vermont, and I’ll be home before you know it.” His whole demeanor softened. “And maybe then we can get a pet for the apartment?”
They’d put it off because Eli didn’t think it was fair to bring something into a situation that could change. Andy wasn’t sure how three years didn’t make a solid enough foundation to bring a pet into, but dammit, he wanted a cat!
Eli shifted. “Do you think we’re ready for pet ownership?”
“Yes, Eli! I work from home three days a week. Why can’t we get a cat?” He tried to remember his patience. “Baby, we live a good life. We live a great life. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, expand that life a little? A cat would be a good thing, don’t you think?”
Eli took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so insecure―”
Andy abandoned his eggs and moved to the other side of the table, breathing out, and rubbed Eli’s arms briskly with his cupped palms. “Maybe when I get back from this trip, you’ll see. Nothing’s going to break us apart, okay?”
Eli leaned forward and rested his cheek on Andy’s shoulder. He did that when he was feeling soft, and it always made Andy feel like king of the world. He wrapped his arms around the boy of his dreams and squeezed him tight.
“I’ve got to go,” he whispered. “I’ll call you every day. I promise.”
“I love you,” Eli offered, still taking comfort, and Andy took it as a win. Eli wasn’t demonstrative by nature—too many years of having nobody had left him wary of being affectionate, even in private. But an unsolicited “I love you,” from him was like gold.
Andy hugged him even tighter and then moved back enough to tilt his head up and take his mouth, softly at first, and then as he remembered this had to last through two weeks of his parents, his sisters, his damned hometown, he deepened the kiss, took more, pulled as much of Eli’s sweetness into his soul as he could to sustain him for the coldness of winter in Vermont. In these moments he felt like the power of his six-foot-plus, two-hundred-pound frame wasn’t wasted. His entire purpose was to keep Eli Engel—his angel—safe from all the harm the world had to offer.
Finally Eli pushed him away, reluctance written in every line of his body. “You need to leave,” he said. “You’re gonna miss your train, and then your mom’s going to make you go next year!”
Triumph! “You said next year!” Andy replied, his face lighting up. “I’m bringing you crow pizza when I come back—you just watch!”
And with that he had to run. Eli was right. Between the slow elevators of their building and the struggle to get a cab to get him to the station, he really might miss the train!
And he had to go now so Eli would know he’d be back.
Jackie North has been writing stories since grade school and her dream was to someday leave her corporate day job behind and travel the world. She also wanted to put her English degree to good use and write romance novels, because for years she's had a never-ending movie of made-up love stories in her head that simply wouldn't leave her alone.
Luckily, she discovered m/m romance and decided that men falling in love with other men was exactly what she wanted to write about. In this dazzling new world, she turned her grocery-store romance ideas around and is now putting them to paper as fast as her fingers can type. She creates characters who are a bit flawed and broken, who find themselves on the edge of society, and maybe a few who are a little bit lost, but who all deserve a happily ever after. (And she makes sure they get it!)
She likes long walks on the beach, the smell of lavender and rainstorms, and enjoys sleeping in on snowy mornings. She is especially fond of pizza and beer and, when time allows, long road trips with soda fountain drinks and rock and roll music. In her heart, there is peace to be found everywhere, but since in the real world this isn't always true, Jackie writes for love.
Lynn Michaels lives and writes in Tampa, Florida where the sun is hot and the Sangria is cold. When she’s not writing she’s kayaking, hanging with her husband, or reading by the pool. Lynn writes Male/Male romance because she believes everyone deserves a happy ending and the dynamics of male characters can be intriguing, vulnerable, and exciting. She has both contemporary and paranormal titles and has been writing since 2014. Her stories don’t follow any set guidelines or ideas, but come from her heart and contain love in many forms.
Ella Frank is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Temptation series, including Try, Take,Trust, Tease, Tate, and True, and is the co-author of the fan-favorite PresLocke Series. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”
Brooke Blaine is a USA Today Bestselling Author best known for writing romantic comedy and M/M romance. Her novels lead with humor and heart, but Brooke never shies away from throwing in something extra naughty that will scandalize her conservative Southern family for life (bless their hearts). She’s a choc-o-holic, lives for eighties bands (which means she thinks guyliner is totally underrated), believes it’s always wine o’clock, and lives with the coolest cat on the planet—her Ragdoll/Maine Coon mix, Jackson Agador Spartacus.
Jeff Adams has written stories since he was in middle school and became a published author in 2009 when his first short stories were published. He writes both gay romance and LGBTQ+ young adult fiction…and there’s usually a hockey player at the center of the story.
Jeff lives in central California with his husband of more than twenty years, Will. Some of his favorite things include the musical "Rent" and, the Detroit Red Wings and Pittsburgh Penguins hockey teams, and the reality TV competition "So You Think You Can Dance." He, of course, loves to read, but there isn’t enough space to list his favorite books.
Jeff and Will are also podcasters. The "Big Gay Fiction Podcast" is a weekly show devoted to gay romance as well as pop culture. New episodes come out every Monday at BigGayFictionPodcast.com. The "Big Gay Author Podcast" chronicles their journey to become full time authors. New episodes drop Saturdays at BigGayAuthorPodcast.com.
Amy Lane has two kids who are mostly grown, two kids who aren't, three cats, and two Chi-who-whats at large. She lives in a crumbling crapmansion with half of the children and a bemused spouse. She also has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes fantasy, urban fantasy, and gay romance--and if you accidentally make eye contact, she'll bore you to tears with why those three genres go together. She'll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.
Jackie North
Lynn Michaels
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Ella Frank
Brooke Blaine
Jeff Adams
Hot Chocolate Kisses by Jackie North
Cupid's Christmas Arrow by Lynn Michaels
Once Upon a Sexy Scrooge by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine
Rivals by Jeff Adams
Chrismyths by Amy Lane
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