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Summary:
One Christmas, two lonely hearts, five portions of sparkle!
Gray isn’t enjoying December. The weather’s grim, his job’s a struggle, and his useless boyfriend ran out on him months ago. He’s a walking Mr Christmas Grump. And then he delivers a parcel to Alec, a bright, sparkly, over-earnest vlogger who’s going through his own hard times.
Over the course of five days, accompanied by an irritating but relentlessly cheerful pop song, Gray and Alec share secrets, kisses, regrets, triumphs, some truly awful fashion—and maybe a love that will last far beyond the new year.
This short novella was previously published in the 2020 anthology “Gifts for the Season”. It is a standalone Christmas romance.
Another delightfully fun and short Christmas story. Hard to call it a slow build in a story so short but it was or maybe a timely progression over five days. However you label the pace, it's a winning gem that is creatively present day with a blend of traditional holiday cuteness. Could it have been better had it been longer so we could delve into the personalities of Gray and Alec more? Perhaps, but for a holiday short it puts a smile on your face and happiness in your heart, what more could one ask for?
Summary:
Rowan does his best to blend in, but thanks to the ugly sweater from his grandmother, he’ll have a hard time sneaking away from the holiday party unnoticed.
What’s worse…he’s starting to think it’s not only ridiculous, but enchanted.
It’s hardly a recipe for meeting the man of his dreams. But sometimes you find a kindred spirit when you least expect it.
Like a Charm is a quick, sweet holiday read featuring two painfully shy guys, a plethora of ugly sweaters, an obnoxious neighbor, a sassy grandma, and a hint of magic.
Who doesn't love a good connection that starts with an ugly Christmas sweater? Like a Charm is more than just another ugly Xmas sweater cute meet, it has hints of magic, touches of fate, and all around holiday fun.
Rowan is so set on looking out for the one who is effected by the love charm he believes his grandmother has placed on the sweater he doesn't realize that sometimes fate has a way with or without the charm or maybe the charm works it's magic anyway😉. So fun, just so much fun in this Xmas short that I don't want to say more other than you can't help but find yourself grinning like a fool when you swipe that last page. Yum yum down to the very last thread.
Summary:
Podlington Tales - Snowed In
What could be better than a Christmas for two?
It's Leo and Nick's first Christmas since moving in together. Leo is beyond excited about the big day and Nick is determined to make this an occasion neither of them will forget.
But along with the freakish weather bringing a picture-postcard white Christmas, the Podlington magic springs two more unexpected deliveries on them, threatening to ruin their perfectly planned day.
Can an unwanted Christmas card and an urgent phone call be enough to spoil Christmas or are they gifts in disguise?
Welcome to Podlington! The fictional English village where magic happens and dreams come true. This LGBTQ + Christmas story is part of the Podlington Tales Romance series and can be read as a standalone novel. Delivering Christmas features Leo and Nick from Building Something, a lot of snow, and dreams coming true.
I don't know what to say about this short other than it warms the heart in ways that very few short stories do. Fun, emotional, sweet, touching, just all around perfect read for the holidays.
Once again I'll add that I have not read the original Podlington Village story, Building Something, that tells Leo and Nick's original journey but I was no way lost. I look forward to seeing how the men got to where we see them here.
Summary:
If baker Gray Carroll has to make one more Yule log cake this holiday season, he might just lose it. So when nine year old Olivia shows up at his store wanting to learn how to make one for her dad, Gray tries to turn her down flat. Olivia is determined, cute, and won't take no for an answer, so Gray agrees to coach her through the process. Doesn't hurt that her dad is kind, handsome, and currently unattached.
Ben Nightingale can't believe Olivia has blackmailed Gray someone into teaching her to bake. He's been too busy with his late husband's real estate business, but he's determined to celebrate Yule with his girl, and to get to know Gray. There's something about Gray that makes Ben believe in the magic of the season, but can he find a way to balance work and family in time for the solstice, or will Olivia and Gray's Yule Log go uneaten?
I've said it before and I'll say it again: I LOVE LOVE LOVE stories about men caring for kids. There's just something so lovely and sexy about single dads(including dad figures) that warms the heart.
Ben Nightingale is just such a man. Having lost his other half leaving him a single parent his whole world is his little girl, Olivia. When Olivia wants to do something wonderful for her dad and gets Gray to teach her to make a Yule long you can't help but love her too. It can be hard to write kids in stories, having them be their own little person with their individual personalities and attitudes and yet not be spoiled brats doesn't always work. Julia Talbot has made it work in little Olivia. She is so sweet, so independent, so adorable you just know that her dad has to be a pretty darn good egg and Ben is that.
Gray isn't exactly a bad egg either. He knows he doesn't have time for another one on one baking lesson but how can he resist this little girl? He can't.
Put all these factors together and One More Yule Log is a fun, sweet, short, uplifting holiday romance that is very Hallmark-y and yet 10X better than most of the formulaic Christmas movies Hallmark produces. A definite winning gem to make your holiday heart smile.
Two decades after we first met, will the connection still be there?
Twenty-three years ago, I visited a local Christmas market and met the man of my dreams.
We clicked from the moment we met and spent three magical weeks together.
When my job took me away, I lost Killian and any future the two of us might have had.
Now I’m back.
I wonder if Killian is still in town. If he still runs his market stall. If he’s still as attractive as he was then.
And if he is, will he remember me?
Another short holiday tale that brings a smile to the readers face. Some might feel that had it been longer so we could have learned more of the whats, whys, and wheres of Finn and Killian in the missing 23 years it would have been a better story. Perhaps. Some might be able to connect deeper with the characters but for me, some books are better when things are off-page and left to the readers imagination, or more importantly I trust the author's storytelling abilities. Sometimes the characters just don't want to reveal everything to the writer.
23 years is a long time and we all change in 2+ decades time but we all know someone where no matter how much time passes it's as if it was no time at all. Not because we don't change or grow as people but because the emotional connection has always been there. That is what Yule Be Back is all about: the emotional bond between Finn and Killian that even decades couldn't erase.
Yule Be Back is a wonderfully written tale of reconnecting in ways that seem to only come out during the holidays but should be read all year long because there is never a wrong time to come back and find your forever home.
Five Gold Blings by Clare London
ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS
The radio presenter gleefully announced ‘It’s the coldest day of the year—so far! Let’s brace ourselves for near-Arctic temperatures in the middle of suburban London. Maybe there’ll be snow this Christmas, and won’t that be fun?’
Bloody hysterical, I thought sarcastically as I backed my van into the narrow access road behind the local shops. The gearbox crunched and the engine clunked to a stop. The heater ticked on for a few beats, maybe still trying valiantly to warm up the freezing gusts it had been sending to my feet all day. The radio continued warbling the opening verse of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” sung by this year’s TV talent show winner, then sputtered to silence. Great. Now that wasn’t working either. My vehicle wasn’t so much an old model as a spin off from Noah’s Ark. Okay, it had done me and my local delivery business proud for many years, but this winter could be its death knell.
I struggled out of the van, wrapped already in a sweater and a thick coat. The edge of the door scraped against the damp wall, adding another dent to its history, and I nearly went arse over tit on the slippery paving. I suppose gently falling snowflakes should be romantic for Christmas, now only those twelve days away. But the snow so rarely settles in central London: it turns to slush, then treacherous ice underfoot.
I hauled the last remaining box from the back of the van and turned to face the metal fire escape, leading to the apartment above the charity shop. Final delivery of the day. Deep breath, Gray. You can make it. I’d been to the shop before, but they’d recently hired out the upstairs rooms to supplement their income, and these were parcels for the tenant, Mr A Partridge. Hrmph. I put my foot on the lowest step of the staircase, testing the frost that was already settling. I wondered if Mr Partridge’s business had insurance for when I went flying.
Then sighed to myself. When did I get to be such a miserable ‘old’ git, at the age of only twenty-five? Mr Grumpy Grinch, that was me. With less than two weeks to go until the celebration of tinsel, baubles, and a hairy, red-suited guy with his own line in deliveries, my only dream for Christmas was a work-free huddle on my sofa with hot chocolate, fleecy pyjamas, and a few comforting evenings of gay porn.
I used to love Christmas: all the cheesy charm, the glitter, the eternally-looped pop songs, even the rampant commercialism—which I managed to avoid most years, because I’m always so strapped for cash. Last year had been a blast: I’d made mulled wine, got tangled in holly-decorated sticky tape, bought a pair of Santa hats at the market stall, even eaten Brussel sprouts…
Ah well. Happier, though bittersweet, times.
I climbed the stairs as carefully as I could—thank God someone had salted them—until I could safely put down the parcel while I knocked on the door. It wasn’t a heavy box, but large and difficult to handle. As the door opened, I had to peer over the top of it to see the customer.
“Hello?” The guy in the doorway was short, very slim, with spiky bleached hair that draped across his forehead into a cute curl at his temple, and eyes so wide he looked like the proverbial deer in headlights. A cute mouth framed a startled O, and in his ear…
Wow. It was maybe just a trick of the light, but a diamond stud winked like the most precious gem in a jeweller’s window. Nestled in a soft-looking, very biteable-looking lobe. I like bling on a man, you know? I have a couple of plain gold rings in each ear, but this… this was magical. The twinkling fascinated me, like it was casting its spell on me—
And then I registered what he was wearing.
Or not. In complete disregard for the wind whistling from behind me into the building with its freezing death ray in hand, he was wearing a pair of luridly-patterned swim shorts that hung down to his knees. And only the shorts. There was a very delicious moment where I gazed at his smooth, bare chest, then down to well-shaped calves and bare feet. I thought briefly: he doesn’t look like a Mr Partridge at all, like I’d imagined an old man with beady eyes and a puffed belly. Then I thought: Oh, but he’s pretty. So, so pretty, it all but took my breath away. And finally: Wonder if he’s gay, with hair like that, and doesn’t he look fabulous in eyeliner!
“Delivery?” I muttered, still rapt.
“Oh, thank God!” he cried. He took his hand away from his waist where he was clutching at the fabric of the shorts, reached for the box—and the shorts fell to his ankles.
You remember I said all I was looking for at Christmas was hot chocolate and gay porn? Well, it looked like Santa had been half-listening. A beautiful young man was less than two feet away from me—and stark, bollock naked.
Like a Charm by Jordan Castillo Price
ROWAN
“Rowan, is that you?” Gran’s voice rang through the house, strong and clear. Most grandmas you see on TV are white-haired, kindly old ladies who play bridge and bake pies. But not her.
My Gran was an enchanter. A modern-day witch.
She bustled out from her workshop in a well-worn leather apron covered with pockets and pouches where she kept the tools of her trade close at hand. Her steel gray short-cropped hair was streaked with purple, and it stood on end where she’d run an impatient hand through it while mixing her spells. “Make a little noise next time, will you?” she chided. “If it weren’t for that creaky door….”
“I texted that I was coming.”
She cut her eyes to the phone across the room in its charger, ignored. “I know you’re proud of your talent, but you take things too far.”
Whereas Gran needed herbs and tinctures to work her magic, all I had to do was think—and my specialty was fading into the background. It’s not as useless as it might sound. I’d make a great diamond thief, for instance. Or a stellar peeping Tom. But since I was too nice to go for either of those things, I’d cultivated a sideline as an assistant exam proctor. When I wasn’t helping her inventory trinkets or ship out orders, anyhow.
Gran wasn’t wrong, though. Sometimes I did feel a little too invisible. Especially with another Yule on the horizon with no boyfriend to snuggle in front of the fire.
“Come on, then,” Gran said, “into the workshop with you. My stock won’t rotate itself.” Twice a year, I helped Gran reshuffle her groaning shelves of ingredients, perched up high on a precarious stepladder that was supposedly warded from tipping over…though I suspected she just said that, given the piece of cardboard shoved under the short leg.
It was a grueling afternoon of shifting and wobbling that ended with a cramp in my shoulder and cobwebs in my hair. But she was my Gran—and the only other one in my family with talent. So, though she was loud and outspoken where I was quiet and shy, we had a special bond, Gran and me.
Though that special bond gave her license to ask some pretty uncomfortable questions.
“Well, then. Given that hangdog look on your face and the fact that you haven’t said anything about bringing a plus-one to the Yuletide feast, I’ll take it to mean you’re still single. Some people are true introverts, and they thrive on that kind of thing. But I know how you are—too much time by yourself, getting all up in your own head—it just makes you miserable. You may be quiet, Rowan, and you may be shy. But too much alone time is doing you no favors at all!”
I sighed. “Everyone says to fake it till you make it. Maybe I could pretend to be more outgoing, but in the long run, it won’t do me much good. Believe me, I’ve tried. The minute I start acting like myself, anyone who’s attracted to the ‘fun’ me loses interest.”
“Pah! You don’t need to be fun. You’re good and kind and patient. Not to mention you have phenomenal eyelashes. You got those from me.” Gran fluttered her patently fake lashes. “By the way, you’re welcome. Now, why don’t you open your present early? Just a little something I whipped up. It might help ease you into the spirit of the season.”
I scanned her workbench, eyes stopping on the heavy box of rose quartz she bought in bulk. The stone was ubiquitous in love charms—one of her specialties. Gran hadn’t gone and crafted me a love charm, had she? She saw nothing wrong with providing that initial spark of attraction to her customers, but the idea of using magic for something like that has never sat well with me. How could I ever trust a relationship that started with magical coercion? It would feel like it was built on a lie.
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “I can wait till Solstice—”
“Nonsense. If I gave it to you in front of the rest of the family, they’d all be jealous.” She shoved a box into my hands, then jabbed a finger at the card tucked under the ribbon. “Besides…this invitation won’t be any good to you once the party’s over.”
“Wait, what party?”
Delivering Christmas by Alex Jane
CHAPTER ONE
Nick
The last present that needed to be wrapped was in Nick's hand, when he heard the front door bang open and Leo's cheerful voice shout up an excited, "Merry Christmas!"
Even with his chance to get all his gifts wrapped and looking perfect lost to his poor time-keeping, Nick had to grin.
"It's not Christmas yet!" he yelled back, as he stuffed the small box under his side of the mattress where he hoped it wouldn't be noticed. They had been greeting each other in the same way since Leo started getting over-excited about the festive season after Nick's birthday at the end of November.
Nick wasn't all that fussed about Christmas usually. He normally worked straight through, apart from sacrificing half a day to the company Christmas party, and a nice meal with his mum after they'd exchanged presents on Christmas Day.
Leo on the other hand — it had been like having a golden retriever wearing a Christmas jumper running around the place as soon as the clock struck midnight on November 30th.
He'd insisted they get a real tree which was fine but they had ended up with one far too big for the front room of the cottage. Then Leo had materialised enough decorations from somewhere that you could barely even see there was a tree at all by the time Leo was finished trimming it.
Nick had to admit it looked good, each bauble perfectly placed, the tinsel plush, and enough sparkling fairy lights to rival Blackpool Pier. Although nothing looked as good as Leo's face every time he looked up at it, a happy glow lighting him up, inside and out.
Leo hadn't limited himself to decorating the inside of the house either. He had also made Nick climb on the roof and hang lights from the guttering. Well, not made. When Nick found out Leo had been intending to climb up there himself, the thought of him wielding anything that might resemble a tool had Nick quickly volunteering to get out the ladder. They'd already learned the hard way that DIY was not Leo's forte.
As well as the roof, they had lights in the cherry tree in the front garden and a huge wreath on the door. Nick had put his foot down when he'd caught Leo eyeing up the life-sized plastic reindeer in the garden centre, only because there had to be a limit. Leo had done his best to put on a brave face but had sulked most of the way home. He only stopped when Nick had pulled over into a quiet lay-by and given him a semi-public blow job. Which would have been insanely sexy if Leo hadn't kept talking about how he'd return the favour if they could go back and buy just one.
As Nick headed down from the bedroom to the sounds of rustling and banging that were coming from the kitchen, he half-wondered if Leo had, in fact, sneaked back to liberate Rudolph on his way home from work.
It wasn't Rudolph.
"What in the —?" Nick put his hands on his hips and stared at the mound of grocery bags on the kitchen counter. And on the floor. And on the kitchen table. "You got more food?"
Leo's face popped up from behind the counter, looking a little tired but smiling as always. "Well, yeah. Thought it would be best, considering." He was still wearing his winter coat, unzipped at the front revealing his uniform and hospital lanyard still around his neck. His hair was slicked back and his eyeliner was a little smudged under one eye but he looked happy.
They'd been living together for months now and, even though Nick got to see him like this every day, he still wanted to pin him down over the kitchen counter and beg him on his knees for a game of doctors and nurses.
Instead, he cleared his throat. "Considering?"
"The weather report?" Leo frowned over at him as if he was an idiot. "Did you not hear it?"
Nick huffed out a laugh. "Oh that. The light snow that might miss us? Hardly warrants you buying enough food to last us a month. Unless you're expecting company."
"It won't." Leo started pulling a four pack of baked beans from a bag.
"Won't what?"
"Miss us."
Nick laughed again but stepped forward to help. "Didn't know meteorology was your specialist subject."
"You forget." Leo waggled a packet of cream crackers in Nick's direction. "I've lived in Podlington for a while now."
"Oh," Nick said, nodding his head and trying not to laugh. "What is it? The ducks walking widdershins around the pond or are the bulbs coming up early in Mrs Vance's borders some kind of omen?" A packet of extra absorbent kitchen roll thwacked him on the head.
"No, you idiot. I told you. We always get snow."
That did make Nick laugh. "You can't always get snow at Christmas."
"Always."
"That's impossible. It barely even snows in this part of the country all winter in a good year. Or in a bad one, depending on how much you like snow, I guess."
"It does here."
"Bollocks."
"And if it says it's actually going to snow, then we know we're in for a lot of it."
"Light flurries," Nick said, brandishing a box of coffee filters. "Emphasis on light — wait, why did you buy more candles?"
"The only ones we have are scented?" Leo looked at Nick like he was an idiot. Again. "In case we get a power cut? I'm not wasting the good ones just so we can see. Plus, we'd suffocate if we light all the Cinnamon Cheer ones at the same time. Did you call your mum? Make sure you do in case the phones go out."
"What is this, Armageddon? And yes, I called her. She's fine, sends her love, can't wait to see us for New Year. Unless you think there'll be an avalanche or yeti attack and we won't make it there alive?"
Leo stopped what he was doing, and sent Nick a look that said he wasn't impressed at all by his attitude. "I sometimes think I preferred it when I thought you were a humourless automaton."
"Really?" Nick raised one eyebrow and stepped around the counter, sliding into Leo's personal space and curling an arm around his waist.
"Yeah," Leo said playfully. "You know, if I told anybody how funny you think you are, no one would believe me."
"You don't think I'm funny?" Nick leaned in closer.
"Hilarious." Leo managed in a breathy whisper a millimetre before Nick's lips connected with his, snatching the air from both their lungs. Kissing Leo never got old. It was both comforting and wildly sexual to hold him close and feel their bodies moving and reacting in harmony to each other. Even the way Leo's lips mouthed a path along the line of his jaw all the way up to his ear to whisper, "The ice cream is melting. We should really put all this away before we start anything."
Nick groaned, letting his head thunk forward onto Leo's shoulder. Leo shoved him away playfully before finally slipping off his coat and getting back to the groceries.
Not one to pout usually, Nick sure as hell felt like trying as he headed over to the kitchen table to retrieve whatever Leo had left there. As he passed the end of the kitchen counter, his eyes fell on a stack of paperwork piled neatly in the corner where they habitually left bills and other bits of post which needed sorting and his memory was jogged.
"This came for you." He held out the envelope across the mountain of half opened bags.
Leo frowned at what was obviously a Christmas card but took it and started ripping at the envelope roughly. "You didn't open it?"
Nick shrugged and turned away. "It's got your name on it, not mine." He went back to wondering why they would need so much toilet paper while he waited for a cheeky comeback or some acknowledgment of who had sent the card. When there was only stony silence from the other side of the room he got concerned before he got curious, turning just in time to see Leo ripping the card in half, then half again — then half again — before he opened the cupboard under the sink and threw the pieces in the bin.
"Everything okay?"
There was a moment of hesitation that was so fleeting Nick thought he must have imagined it, when Leo stood bracing his arms over the sink, his body tense and his expression angry, before his body and features softened back to his usual smiling demeanour.
"Junk mail. Nothing important."
"You've gotta stop signing up to all those mailing lists." It was an ongoing joke between them which never failed to get a rise out of Leo so getting silence back again wasn't what Nick was expecting at all. Although, this time, he was met with something altogether more pleasant as Leo slid around the counter and crowded into Nick's space.
"The ice cream's in the freezer. You wanna keep talking about my shopping habits or you wanna take this upstairs?"
Nick ran one finger down the front of Leo's uniform, his breath stuttering slightly, knowing exactly what was underneath the dark blue tunic — the firm tight body, mahogany skin, long lean limbs and a thatch of dark hair between his legs. "That is probably the dumbest question you have ever asked me."
"Challenge accepted. How about… you want me to change or shall I keep the uniform on?"
"Jesus," Nick laughed. "You're right. That's dumber." He laughed again when Leo took him by the hand and dragged him towards the stairs. "Hey, would you — ?"
"I'm not wearing the stethoscope."
"Just once?"
"It's not a toy."
"I know but —"
"Maybe you should have put one on your list for Father Christmas?"
"You know I did." He'd meant it to be playful until Nick realised maybe he wasn't completely joking.
Leo stopped with one foot on the stairs and looked over his shoulder, a naughty smile spreading over his face. "Well, if you've been a good boy, I'm sure Santa will come through."
"I have." Nick's voice broke a little when he replied, "I promise, I really have."
"Yeah?" Leo laughed. "Well, in that case, maybe you can open one of your presents early. It is Christmas Eve, after all."
"Oh my god, this really is the most wonderful time of the year."
“Yeah, whatever." Leo yanked him playfully along as they climbed the stairs, and Nick showed him exactly how good he could be.
One More Yule Log by Julia Talbot
1
“I swear to God, Alice, if I see one more Yule log, I’m gonna puke.” Gray Carrol put the finishing touches on a nontraditional Yule log that looked like a sparkly pink tree branch with teal mushrooms. The interior held rainbow swirl cake. He was proud of it, but man, he was ready for the holiday season to be over, and he still had a good bit of time to go. Okay, it had just started, hadn’t it?
Alice put her forefingers against the outside corners of her lips. “Smile, boss.”
He wanted to snap at her, but he didn’t because she was a dear friend, a nice person, and she’d been pulling double shifts since Rafe had quit last week. Who quit their job just over a month before Christmas?
At a bakery.
Baring his teeth, Gray growled as much like a rabid dog as he could.
“It looks amazing, huh? I’ll put it in the cooler.” Alice grabbed the tray, and he knew she’d treat that silly cake like a glass baby.
“Thanks.” He pulled out the clipboard where he kept his orders. With Rafe’s departure, he’d lost the one person who knew how to work the computer ordering system, so he was back to analog recordkeeping. He scribbled a note to call the customer, then marked the job as completed.
“So, what’s next?” Alice asked when she came out of the walk-in.
“Cupcakes for the tree lighting.” The city wanted two hundred Christmas-tree cupcakes. Vanilla cake with a spiral of green frosting and multicolored piped lights. His wrist ached already.
“Don’t sound so down. It’s good to have more business than you can handle.” She patted his back like she would one of her kids’.
“Sorry.” She was right. He was busier than a one-legged buttkicker, and he was truly proud. Somehow this year he was just also really tired. Maybe he was too old for this shit.
“Okay. So. Cupcakes. Anything I need to do for the case first?”
Gray had a different clipboard for that. “Um, how about chocolate chip and hot chocolate cookies? There’s a dance at the VFW tonight, so we’ll stay open until eight.”
“Gotcha.” She hustled to the back, where he heard the mixer begin its thud and flap dance. Alice was so efficient, and he was lucky to have her. Truly.
The bell over the door jangled, so he did what Alice had suggested and put a smile on his face. “Welcome to Piece of Cake. How can I help you?”
When he saw the customers, he immediately thought cupcakes. The adult was a lady who was probably twenty years older than his thirty-five, with long graying hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a rainbow caftan and a stack of jangly bracelets. The little girl with her had chin-length brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a serious expression.
“Go ahead, Liv,” the lady said, giving the girl a nudge.
The girl named Liv nodded. “Okay. Hello. I need help.”
Well, that was unexpected. They didn’t have a public restroom, but if she was desperate…
“What are you looking for, hon?”
“A Yule Log.”
Oh, God. Gray fought not to roll his eyes. “Well, we do those, for sure.”
“Yes, sir. I did my research. I want to learn to make one for my daddy. You give cake classes.”
Blinking, he opened his mouth, then closed it. Gray didn’t want to snarl at what? A ten-year-old? So he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m not giving classes right now. The holiday season is super busy for us.”
She scowled at him. “But I can pay for it. I broke my piggy bank!” She held up a Ziploc bag full of coins and bills.
Oh, God, that was cute.
The older lady smiled at him wryly over Liv’s head. “This is Olivia. What’s your name?”
“Gray Carrol. I’m the owner.”
“I see. Well, my name is Fran. Olivia really wants to make her own Yule log cake, you see. She and I have tried it a couple of times in the last few weeks, and it’s been nothing but a disaster.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I mean, I’m happy to take an order, but I really can’t—”
“But you have to!” Olivia’s lower lip began to quiver. “My daddy used to make one every year for my dad, but then Dad died and…” She trailed off, sniffling.
No fair. She had, or she’d had, two dads. God knew, he supported queer folks because he was one. His heart melted a little, but the sound of the mixer straining because Alice had tossed chocolate chips in made him stop before he opened his mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia. I am. I just don’t have time. Would you like a cupcake? It’s on me.”
She stared at him, her dark eyes liquid with tears. “No, thank you. Are you sure you can’t help me?”
“I don’t—” When a tear broke free and ran down her cheek, he sighed. “Let me look at my calendar, okay? What kind of cupcake would you like while you wait?”
“I like strawberry.”
“And Fran?”
Fran gave him a gentle, knowing smile. “Salted caramel, please.” She pulled out her wallet to hand him a ten.
“You got it.” Cupcakes got passed out, change made, and Gray found his feet taking him to the office in order to look at his schedule. Looked like he was going to teach Olivia how to make a Yule log cake.
God, he was a sucker.
“Hey, Mr. Nightingale, can I get you to sign these forms before you go?”
Ben stopped at the door to his office, trying not to roll his eyes at his assistant, Lila. “Of course. What am I looking at?”
“There’s a new contract that Ian worked out that just needs you to countersign, and a price reduction on that house and studio combo in Silt.”
“Okay, sure.” He took the papers from her, reading through the contract terms super fast. He was lucky he was a speed reader, because he was leaving early so he could take Olivia on some errand she wanted to run that was “very, very important.”
He was already running late for that.
Ben scrawled his signature, his head throbbing a bit. He hated all of this admin crap. Heck, he hated having to go into an office every day. He was no mover and shaker.
“Have a good afternoon, Lila.”
“You too.” She whisked the paper away, her heels clicking. No one in the Roaring Fork valley wore such formal stuff to work, even in banks and law offices. Lila liked to be just so.
He ducked out of his office, trying to get out quickly. Which, of course, meant his business partner, Craig Dobson, caught him as he slipped down the hall.
“Ben! There you are. I was calling your office. Hey, we need to talk about the holiday party we’re throwing for the clients. We’ve done well this year.”
He counted to eight. He was trying for ten, but he knew better than to leave Craig that much time. “Sure. Of course. Get with Lila. We can meet about it on Monday, okay? I have to do a thing at school with Liv.”
“Oh, man, good luck. I’ll see you bright and early Monday?”
“You know it.” There. He practically ran out the door. Ever since Dale passed he’d been a not-so-silent partner at the real estate office. God, he wished he was still the house husband who did the household finances and occasionally typed up contracts.
He missed having time with Olivia. Family time.
Today he would try to fix some of that.
The drive home took longer than he wanted, thanks to the usual Friday pileup of traffic through Glenwood, but he thought they would have plenty of time to do whatever it was Olivia had planned.
“Liv, honey? I’m home!” he called out.
The house echoed with him, but that was it. No one answered.
“Fran?” His aunt took care of Olivia most days, and she should have been there helping Liv with her homework. Ben headed to the kitchen, looking for a note. He also checked his phone, just in case he’d missed a call.
Nothing. Okay, weird. He pushed down the panic that tried to rise. He called up Fran’s name on his favorites list and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Frannie. Is, uh, is everything okay?”
“Hmm? Oh, of course! We’re doing great. Liv just wanted to do some, um, shopping.”
He blinked. Fran was lying to him. She was a terrible liar.
“You’re not at the hospital, right? Promise me you’re not at the ER.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Ben.” Now that sounded like her normal voice. “Liv wants to surprise you with something.”
“With what? I was supposed to take her somewhere.”
“You were late.” She sighed. “Why don’t you come meet us for an early supper? We’re just down the way from White House, huh? We can meet you there in about an hour.”
Disappointment hit him hard. He was sure this was how Liv felt because he was late, and why they’d decided to go without him. “Sure. Okay. It will take me about that long to get back in.”
“No rush. Just text when you’re parking.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.” She hung up, and he shook his head, looking around the super quiet house. Maybe they should downsize. The big A-frame with all the glass seemed ridiculously huge and ostentatious now. Dale had loved to throw weekend house parties or have a dozen of Olivia’s friends over. They just didn’t do that kind of stuff anymore.
He changed into jeans and a sweater, then pulled on comfy boots. God, he loathed dress shoes. He grabbed his wallet, then headed to the kitchen to get the keys he’d left there. On the counter, Ben saw a printed sheet of paper with an information page from a local business. Piece of Cake Bakery. Grand Avenue in Carbondale.
Huh.
He would peer inside when he went by, maybe. What the heck could Olivia want at a professional bakery? Well, besides a cupcake. She did love those.
Tucking the paper away in the cubby by the front door, he headed out, and it only took him about forty-five minutes to find his way to a parking space on a side street. He texted Fran after he locked up the big SUV, hoping she and Liv were ready to eat because somehow it was almost six.
They met him at the door to the pizza place, Liv running up to him to demand a hug. “Hi, Daddy! You look nice.”
“Thanks, honey. Did you have a good afternoon?” She had a smear of flour on her nose. Curiouser and curiouser.
“I did! How was your day?”
Ben blinked. Usually she would go on and on about what she’d done if he wasn’t there when she did it.
“It was busy, kiddo.” He stroked her hair, kind of surprised at how tall she was. She had to have grown an inch since he’d last really noticed.
“You’re always busy.” She patted his arm. “I want a gyro.”
“Okay. Hey, Aunt Fran. What was the errand?”
Fran made a zipping motion on her lips. “Been sworn to secrecy.”
“Huh.” Ben was pretty sure he didn’t approve of being left out of the secret.
“Silly daddy. It’s a surprise, is all.”
“Well, I guess surprises are good this time of year.” Kind of. A little. Oh, who was he kidding? Ben hated surprises.
“That’s the spirit,” Fran told him, winking broadly.
He would have to interrogate her later. For now, he had a falafel burger to procure, and time to spend with the most important person in his life.
That superseded everything else.
Yule Be Back by Helena Stone
1
2022, Present
The moment I walked through the red-and-white-striped gate, my mood lifted.
I knew it was ridiculous, of course. I was forty-three years old, for crying out loud. But there was no denying that all it took to put a smile on my face was the sight of those colourful lights, the fake snow, and the seasonal music filling the air. If there was anything more joyful in the world than a Christmas fair, I had yet to find it.
I stopped walking a few steps away from the entrance, allowing myself to take in the overall picture before I’d explore the individual stalls and offerings, comparing the sight to other markets in other towns and countries. Twenty-three years had passed since I’d last visited this fair, just as it had been twenty-three years since I’d lived in this town. So much had changed. What had been a tiny collection of covered trestle tables surrounding a red tent where kids could visit Santa, now resembled a village. From my vantage point, I couldn’t even guess how many chalet-like booths lay ahead of me, never mind count them. A shiver ran down my spine as I anticipated taking my time to visit all of them, contrasting them to the myriad of other Christmas-themed displays I had visited over the intervening years while trying not to look for the one stall that almost certainly wouldn’t be there.
Once I’d filled my senses with the seasonal smells, I slowly set off walking from stall to stall, examining the wares on offer and mentally creating a list of vendors to revisit. Now that I had returned to the town where I’d grown up and had purchased a house, it was time to invest in decorations. For over twenty years, my life had been transient. I’d never stayed anywhere for longer than a year at most, so it had never made sense to accumulate possessions. With my travelling days behind me, I could at last indulge my deep love of Christmas and everything that went with it. Today was December 2nd, which meant I had twenty-three days to buy everything I needed to create my personal version of a winter wonderland.
I smiled. Twenty-three seemed to be the magical number.
Sometimes I wondered if I should be ashamed that at the age of forty-three, I still considered this seasonal fete the high point of my year. I was well aware that most people outgrew their fascination with Christmas by the time they reached adulthood. I shrugged. I wasn’t most people, thank you very much, and I firmly believed it was important to take my joy where I could find it.
As I moved along, lost in a world of my own despite the hundreds of people surrounding me, my mental list of things to look at again or buy grew. I wasn’t looking for anything mass-produced. No. My displays would be unique and classy, a combination of old and new with as little plastic as I could manage.
Then I saw it, the stall I must have been subconsciously searching for, the one I had been convinced I wouldn’t find. I recognised the eclectic selection instantly, and just as I’d done the first time I saw it, I marvelled at the collection of Christmas books—some brand new and others aged and leather-bound—records, DVDs and CDs, displayed among antique-looking baubles, strings of bright lights, and wreaths. It was all my mind needed. The memories I’d been trying to avoid flooded over me and took me back.
Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.
She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter-three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her on all her social media.
Author and artist Jordan Castillo Price is the owner of JCP Books LLC. Her paranormal thrillers are colored by her time in the midwest, from inner city Chicago, to small town Wisconsin, to liberal Madison.
Jordan is best known as the author of the PsyCop series, an unfolding tale of paranormal mystery and suspense starring Victor Bayne, a gay medium who's plagued by ghostly visitations. Also check out her new series, Mnevermind, where memories are made...one client at a time.
With her education in fine arts and practical experience as a graphic designer, Jordan set out to create high quality ebooks with lavish cover art, quality editing and gripping content. The result is JCP Books, offering stories you'll want to read again and again.
Alex JaneAfter spending far too long creating stories in her head, Alex finally plucked up the courage to write them down and realized it was quite fun seeing them on the page after all.
Free from aspirations of literary greatness, Alex simply hopes to entertain by spinning a good yarn of love and life, wrapped up with a happy ending. Although, if her characters have to go through Hell to get there, she’s a-okay with that.
With only a dysfunctional taste in music and a one-eyed dog to otherwise fill her days, Alex writes and walks on the South Coast of England—even when her heart and spellcheck are in New York.
You can now find her dark m/m romance under Alexis Jane, if you like love…but darker.
Julia Talbot lives in the great Southwest with her wife and four basset hounds. A full-time author, Julia writes paranormals and more with lots of love and action and, as her alter ego Minerva Howe, she writes mpreg and alpha/omega stories. She believes that everyone deserves a happy ending, so she writes about love without limits, where all of her stories leave a mark.
Helena Stone can’t remember a life before words and reading. After growing up in a household where no holiday or festivity was complete without at least one new book, it’s hardly surprising she now owns more books than shelf space while her Kindle is about to explode.
The urge to write came as a surprise. The realisation that people might enjoy her words was a shock to say the least. Now that the writing bug has well and truly taken hold, Helena can no longer imagine not sharing the characters in her head and heart with the rest of the world.
Having left the hustle and bustle of Amsterdam for the peace and quiet of the Irish Country side she divides her time between reading, writing, long and often wet walks with the dog, her part-time job in a library, a grown-up daughter and her ever loving and patient husband.
Clare London
EMAIL: clarelondon11@yahoo.co.uk
Alex Jane
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / PAYHIP
EMAIL: contact@alexjane.info
Five Gold Blings by Clare London
GOOGLE PLAY / KOBO / iTUNES
B&N / WEBSITE / SMASHWORDS
Like a Charm by Jordan Castillo Price
Delivering Christmas by Alex Jane
One More Yule Log by Julia Talbot
Yule Be Back by Helena Stone
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