This year was a little less trying than 2021 but my reading mojo was still lacking and I only read 111 books. So once again my Best of lists may be shorter but everything I read/listened to were so brilliant it was still a hard choice. So over the next two weeks I'll be featuring my Best Reads as well as Best ofs for my special day posts which are a combination of best reads and most viewed, I hope my Best of list helps you to find a new read, be it new-new or new-to-you or maybe it will help you to rediscover a forgotten favorite. Happy Reading and my heartfelt wish for everyone is that 2023 will be a year of recovery, growth, and in the world of reading a year of discovering a new favorite.
👀I try to keep the purchasing links as current as possible bu they've been known to change for dozens of reasons, in case any of those links no longer work be sure to check out the author's social media links for updated buying info.👀
The Omega's Krampus Christmas by Lorelei M Hart
Summary:Never take an elf’s cookie… even if it is for a good cause.
School teacher Alger loved his job, his town, and his volunteer work at the local children’s hospital. That is until he loses it all with one mistake: he gave away the wrong cookie. Now cursed to be a Krampus and scare children into behaving, he is miserable. Beyond miserable. At least there’s an out to his curse: Find unconditional love. If only it were as simple as that.
Widower single father Jordan is not a fan of Christmas, not since his alpha’s accident. Each year Jordan fakes it, slapping on his best Christmas Cheer persona in the hopes of making it special for his son. Each year it gets a little bit easier. Who knows… maybe one year the holidays will be merry and bright.
When an unexpected blizzard comes to town, Alger and Jordan end up trapped together and learn that there really is magic in Christmas snow.
The Omega’s Krampus Christmas is a super sweet with knotty heat MM Mpreg Holiday retelling of the fairy tale Beauty and the Beast featuring an alpha who accidentally pissed off the wrong elf, an omega who sees the heart within, more Christmas cookies than anyone should eat in a lifetime, a magical sleigh ride that leaves more than just Santa’s bag being filled, the cutest cat ever…as in ever, Christmas wish lists a mile long, a Christmas miracle or two, including an adorable baby on the way. If you enjoy true love, fated mates, a little bit of whimsy, and your mpreg with heart, download The Omega’s Krampus Christmas today.
I gotta start by just saying: WOW!!!
Christmas romance with a twist✔️
Fairytale with a twist✔️
It's that "with a twist" that gives The Omega's Krampus Christmas an extra special level of holiday yummyness. I've always been intrigued by holiday stories that go outside the box by having Krampus involved and Lorelei M Hart really brought the intrigue to the table here. I should add that not only did I find this story to be my favorite of this holiday season's reading but it is also my first mpreg, first omegaverse, and my first Lorelei M Hart read. That's a lot of firsts to venture into especially with a holiday story.
Alger, aka Krampus, and single dad Jordan have an instant connection but after decades of a lonely existence, Alger has built a wall around his heart. Will he let Jordan and his daughter Thea in? As you can probably guess my answer: you'll have to read this one for yourself to discover if Alger opens up. I will say that I couldn't help but love every character in the story, each one played a part, nobody was extra, nobody was page filler they all added to the story and to Alger and Jordan's journey.
There is really not much more I can add without being tempted to divulge too much of the story. I will say that if you aren't fond of mpreg, I still highly recommend this Christmas tale because The Omega's Krampus Christmas is so much more than mpreg. This is a story about seeing beyond the surface, letting someone in, and opening one's heart which is something we all need to do more of and not just during the holiday season. Definitely a delightful, heartwarming holiday gem.
A Very Genre Christmas by Kim Fielding
Summary:
Very little is merry in a private dick’s world.
Private detective Nick Bozic works the mean streets of 1950s Portland, Oregon, shadowing unfaithful spouses and nabbing thieving employees. He may be lonely, but at least he’s not crooked. Despite the festive season, Christmas simply means less dough in his pocket.
With the holiday only a few days away, a regular client drops a new case on him: yet another being has come through the Rift and needs help finding his way home. Maybe Evindal the elf will help Nick find something too—a bit of cheer and magic amid the usual brew of corruption and betrayal.
I was so glad I stumbled across this little gem. This story ticks so many of my boxes: historical, mystery, paranormal, and Christmas. You've got a 1950s Sam Spade/Phillip Marlowe-style PI working to help paranormal cases find their way home. And what better case than a Christmas elf?
Nick the PI and Evindal the elf make for a very interesting pair, gruff and spirited, perhaps Nick has finally met his match with this case. I'm all for the typical, cookie-cutter holiday stories, after all just because they are typical doesn't mean they aren't entertaining and uplifting but sometimes one just wants something a little different, maybe not entirely outside the Santa-wrapped holiday box but holiday with a hint of mischief. Both Nick and Evendal are so much fun I certainly don't think I could say no to either of them if I met them on the street.
Because A Very Genre Christmas ticks so many of my reading boxes, I think it is a story that can be enjoyed all year long. Kim Fielding definitely takes the reader on a winning journey with these two adorably entertaining characters. If I had any complaints or downsides to this story it's that I wasn't ready to say goodbye when I reached the last page.
Summary:
The Hollydale Omegas #5.5
Henry and Ezra were on track to a great relationship when Ezra was given an offer for a job in another state. They were too new, so Ezra made the tough choice. But... was it the right choice? Amor is back to help them figure it out.
Original Review February 2022:
I have featured Susi Hawke's work on my blog for a few years now but never had the opportunity to read one. What a good place to start. I say "good" instead of "great" because this short free read is number 5.5 in her Hollydale Omegas series. I wasn't lost but I have a feeling there are some friendships and character cameo backstories I've missed and though they really didn't have a bearing on this story I also feel I would have enjoyed it even better having experienced those journeys first. Don't get me wrong, Strawberry Spiced Omega is an extremely entertaining read but as a fan of reading-series-in-order(even when each entry is a different pairing) I think I would have loved this even more in order, but that's just me. As for Hank and Ezra? What a darling couple, more than friends with benefits but not full-on coupledom, although it's pretty obvious they both want it.
Strawberry Spiced Omega is a short, sweet(with just the right amount of heat), mpreg, Valentine's treat. I'm pretty new to published mpreg, featured them on my blog but this is only me second read and it has only furthered my blossoming love of the genre. Can't wait to check out the earlier and later entries of Susi Hawke's Hollydale Omegas series.
RATING:
Rivals by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Summary:Harrisburg Railers #11
Playing for their country in the Winter Olympics is the highest of all honors, but when family members are pitted as rivals and a dark specter from the past turns up in Beijing, tensions run high, and abruptly, it’s not all about the hockey.
Jared is torn—assistant coach for Team Canada, with Ryker on the team; he bleeds red and white and wears the maple leaf with pride. Only Ten is now a rival, and not just that, but the country they’re all playing in frowns on his marriage and keeps him and Ten apart. Jared wants to win gold for his country and his son, but he’d be so proud if Ten were to win. He’s confused and concerned, but when a face from their past turns up to play, he’s furious.
Being picked for Team USA is one of the things Tennant dreamed of when he was a little boy. All of his other aspirations have come true through hard work, determination, and pure talent. Now he’s about to represent his country in front of the world, and the pressure is starting to build. He’s also just come face-to-face with a hated rival from a dark period in his past. Add in the burden of squaring off against his husband and stepson, and Ten is feeling the pressure to be perfect.
Family becomes rivals—but love always wins.
Original Review February Book of the Month 2022:
First of all, I couldn't think of a better book to review for the final day of the 2022 Olympics. I've loved the hockey universe RJ Scott & VL Locey has created since the very first entry, Changing Lines(Harrisburg Railers #1) and to have an Olympic set entry with Jared and Ten is like adding a heaping scoop of your favorite ice cream on a warm slice of apple pie: divine!
Those that follow my reviews will know that I'm not really a hockey fan except during the Olympics(I actually prefer the women's games but I watch the men as well) so you can imagine how extra special fun Rivals was for me. If you're a hockey fan, then I'm sure you're well aware the NHL didn't actually send any players this year(which for me made it better, I liked the whole amateur level of so many college players) and Scott & Locey obviously wrote this novella before that announcement but that's okay because Ten and Jared are my favorite pairing in their hockey universe so it's all good.
I won't give too many details away, other than we get to see a few extra characters popping up from their hockey world, who most were some of my favorites so that's another tick in the treat box. As you can guess from the title and the blurb, Ten and Jared are on opposing teams: Team USA and Team Canada. Many authors would have went for the dramatic overkill of that scenario but not these ladies. Oh, don't get me wrong there is drama, drama that needed to be addressed eventually and I couldn't think of a better way to present said factor(this is one thing I won't spoil). So we have drama, but we have fun, we have love, we have friendship, we have country spirit, we have humor, and like so many of their stories, we have plenty of heart.
Ten and Jared just continue to grow stronger with each hurdle they face and my love for them does too. I can't wait to see what Scott & Locey have up their sleeves next for the duo and for their hockey universe as a whole. Brilliant fun all around.
Side Note: If you're new to this world they've created, I highly recommend reading the series in order(here's a link to the authors' website reading order). You many not be lost if you haven't read the previous entries but you will certainly be missing some key facts and emotions that make the journey flow smooth, not too mention all the great reads you'll be missing out on.
Head Rush by Davidson King
Summary:Haven Hart #9
Rush
All I want is to finish college, live life as a musician, and love the man of my dreams. That man, however, is Simon Manos, nephew of crime boss Christopher Manos, and there’s a war brewing on the streets of Haven Hart. Achieving my dreams has to be done while ducking bullets, trying not to get blown up, and hoping enemies don’t kill me.
Simon
I love Rush and want him to have everything he could ever hope for—all that his father denied him. As the heir to the Manos family business, it’s not quite that simple; I have responsibilities to fulfill. Haven Hart is getting dangerous, enemies need to be dealt with, and unfortunately, our dreams of the future must be put on hold.
We call on old friends and band together to face a common threat. When we’re forced into hiding, the situation escalates and the odds don’t seem to be in our favor. We do the only thing we can…stand our ground to the bitter end. As our lives start to fall apart, the unasked question is posed: Will someone have to make the ultimate sacrifice to save everyone?
Original Review March Book of the Month 2022:
When Raven's Hart was published 2-1/2 years ago I was afraid we'd seen the end of the Haven Hart gang, I knew the author was already planning Joker's Sin, a spin-off series of stories centered around the gay bar in the dangerous city we all knew and loved called Haven Hart with it's own cast of characters. HOWEVER, personally I was not ready to bid adieu to the original Haven Hart crew so when Secret Simon came out last year, I was all kinds of HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! In a way you could say these new entries are the next generation or a second story arc. Whatever you call it, I call it: OMG! PLEASE LET THERE BE MORE!
In Head Rush, we again follow Simon and Rush as they move onto life within the city limits of Haven Hart biding their time until Liam Brennan strikes. Simon grew up in this world, Rush not so much. I think he adjusts and adapts perfectly. I say "perfectly" not because he has no problems with the life of danger and mayhem but because he finds a way to balance his internal struggles of "how can this be" and "it has to play out this way" and it's that balance that is perfect. You know what? That's all I'm going to say to the plot because I'm afraid once I start I won't be able to stop and I won't spoil it for anyone. The mens' journey is chock full of allies, friends, and enemies some we know intimately and others are introduced(or explored further).
I gotta be honest, I'm still not quite use to Eight being all grown up, for part of me he will always be that little boy Snow saved way back in the early pages of Snow Falling. Despite that forever image burned into my psyche, trust me when I say Simon is all adult now and with Rush at his side, anything and everything is possible.
Davidson King has a knack for the darker side of life where you find yourself cheering for good guys who are not-so-squeaky-clean and bad guys who are easy to hate for their despicableness. Yes, there is a thin line at times between good and bad, especially in fiction and some might say King's Haven Hart universe is a little too violent, too dark, but me? I think the balance is all kinds of righteous yummyness. But beyond the violence of the mafia stoked world of Haven Hart, Davidson King shows the world that being gay, being LGBTQ doesn't make one weak. I won't say "doesn't make them men" because violence isn't just a male characteristic, it's a human characteristic and there's plenty of strong women in her world too, some entries more so than others but good or bad they are there too. Maybe I'm just babbling but what I'm trying to get across is Haven Hart isn't just about violence and darkness, at the barest core is heart, family, friendship, and strength. Doing what you have to to protect those you love. I don't think I'm giving anything away when I say this, in Head Rush, Rush Abernathy may not have been born into this world but he steps in and does what he must.
Now you may wonder what got that thought stirring in my brain, after all Head Rush is book 9. It was something one character said but I won't tell you who because I don't want to spoil who showed up and who didn't. Just know that it gave me pause, literally, one line of dialogue made me put my kindle down and think about the statement and the opinion I stated above. When an author of fiction can make the reader stop and think that strongly with only one line of dialogue, half a dozen words, you know you found an author who truly puts their whole being into telling said story. That it is more than just endless hours at a keyboard with dozens of post-it notes scribbled with tiny details to remember and research files of seemingly useless facts and specs for accuracy and continuity, the work they give to the world is part of them, they have poured their heart and soul between the covers. That's what gives Davidson King's work a special something that can be hard to put into words(even though through my babbling I do try), the same special something that makes Head Rush deserving of the Haven Hart brand.
I don't know how many more stories the men and women of Haven Hart have to tell Davidson King but I know I'll be ready and willing to read every journey she gets let in on and in turn shares with us.
One final note, if wondering about reading order, you do need to read Secret Simon before Head Rush. Some may say you don't need to read the original Haven Hart stories prior but I can't imagine having not experienced them first. Yes, there are characters from the original story arc books and no, technically you don't need to know their individual journeys to enjoy Simon and Rush's arc but I think the friendship and family chemistries flow better. However you read it, Davidson King's Haven Hart universe is 200% storytelling at it's purest form.
RATING:
The Omega's Krampus Christmas by Lorelei M Hart
Prologue
Alger
Once Upon a Time
Teaching school paid next to nothing, but I had cheap lodgings and some of the families made me meals from time to time, which helped keep body and soul together. Some did not consider teaching a man’s job, one that could support a family, but at least for the time being, my pleasure in helping to form young minds superseded any other factors.
Especially at the holiday season. On the last day of school before the Christmas vacation break, we suspended regular classes to bring all the classes together in the decorated auditorium for a holiday recital and festivities before sending the children to their frolics until the New Year.
This year, our class would be singing a selection of Christmas carols and I, dressed in the red suit of Saint Nick popularized by Clement Moore’s ’Twas the Night Before Christmas or A Visit from Saint Nicholas would appropriately read that story to close the event. As I prepared for my reading, a little sadness tugged at my heart. It was easy to pretend I had enough time with these children during class terms, but on holidays, when they were with their real families, the loneliness seeped in. Maybe I should have aspired to another career.
Sitting in the armchair placed at the front of the stage, with my students seated on the floor around me, my heart warmed. Sometimes the poverty many of them lived in daunted their spirits, but now smiles of pride at their performance lifted the corners of their lips. They’d indeed done well, and Santa Claus might have taken notice from his North Pole residence. I cleared my throat, bemused at my suspension of logic. Christmastime always made me sentimental, reminded me of my parents and brother, grandparents, all those who’d already departed this realm. They would celebrate the birth of the Christ Child with the angels in heaven, while I sat in my rented room eating whatever someone thought to bring me from their holiday table.
Even my landlady, who often included me in her holidays, would be away. I’d put her on the train myself, this morning, laden with presents and baked goods she’d prepared. I didn’t resent her good fortune this year. Her married daughter had remembered she had a mother for the first time since my arrival and invited her for the festive season. Mrs. Dougherty’s excitement had been contagious, buoying my spirits as I waved until the train disappeared down the tracks.
Such a good soul, she deserved happiness. A tug on my trousers reminded me of where I was, and I began the poem. I recited more than read the beloved verses, putting as much heart into them as possible. My gift to the children whose faces I gazed into every school day, who learned their letters and numbers at my tutelage.
I taught the youngest of them, tasked with giving them a love of learning as much as any specific knowledge. If they had that love, they would do well going forward.
Finishing the reading, I closed the large book on my lap and chuckled as I thought Saint Nicholas might have before going up the chimney after laying out the gifts for the children of the house in the story.
Silence for a moment had me worried I’d not done justice to the tale, but then appreciative applause reassured me. The book was one my mother read the same story to me from, precious in its faded covers and holding just as much magic now as then. After I finished, the headmaster stood from his seat at the back of the stage and made a short speech. The same speech, word for word, as last year and the year before. But it suited the occasion and sent everyone off with a smile and a wave.
A few other teachers and I supervised some of the older boys putting the auditorium to rights before closing the school for two weeks. When we were done, and all the handmade decorations removed, it looked so dull. But clean and ready for the events of a new term.
As we were leaving, I spotted a bit of litter near the stage, so I bid the others goodbye, said I would lock the doors as I went, and crossed the room to pick it up. Alone, I looked around again. Just an hour or so ago, it had been filled with singing and laughter and bright colors both in the decorations and the students’ and their families’ holiday best attire.
Now, there was just me, in my brown jacket and trousers, not one sprig of greenery or red ribbon in sight. And since we’d turned down the furnace, the warm air in the room was being replaced by a distinct chill.
Time to go home.
I was about to leave the building when I saw a small boy sitting on a chair by the door, kicking his feet and staring at the floor. Little Timothy from my class. All by himself. I approached him and took the seat beside his.
“Timothy, did your fathers leave without you?” All the families were invited to the holiday recital, filling the auditorium with their appreciation for their children’s performances.
“No, Mr. Bobell.” His legs slowed their kicking but did not stop. Nor did he look up from his focus on the black-and-white tiles.
Oh. “They were unable to attend today, then.” He looked so sad.
“They never come. Like they didn’t come on Meet the Teacher night. Or our spelling bee or...or anything. Sir.”
I didn’t always get to speak to every parent when they came. Some were shy or just never made it to the front of the room for one reason or another. But from the children’s reports, nearly all their parents or guardians attended when we invited them. Making the invitations was always a fun and popular activity for our art class the week before, and I had some very talented artists in my room this year. Timothy was one of the best. “Sometimes parents are very busy with their responsibilities and cannot take time to enjoy themselves. It’s a shame. But we must try to understand.”
He did lift his eyes to mine at that point, and they held all the pain and disappointment no child should have to experience.
“I have to lock up now, Timothy. Can you see yourself home?” Some did, and some others had a parent or older sibling to walk them.
“Yes, sir. I always go home alone.”
Alone. I had a feeling he often arrived into an empty house. His worn shoes and everyday clothes had stood in stark contrast to most of the other children’s holiday outfits, but poor didn’t mean abused or neglected, and not all had new clothes. But his sad loneliness said it all. How had I not realized just how bad things were? Maybe because we were not allowed to interfere with students’ outside of school, and parents had absolute authority there. Knowing they had it rough made it even harder to do my job and treat all the children equally.
Still.
Timothy stood and started for the door, but on a whim, I stopped him with a question. “Timothy, what is your wish this Christmas?” If it was within my power to grant it for him, I would, even if it meant I skipped a meal or two.
“A cookie,” he replied. “Like my grandma used to make before she died.”
My heart squeezed so hard, I gasped for a moment before recovering my breath. My mind worked furiously. Where had I seen cookies? A big cookie on a plate! “Timothy, do not leave. I will be right back.”
I dashed down the hall to Mr. Samberg’s class where, on his desk, sat a plate with a large, perfect, dark-brown molasses cookie. A single delight that might bring a smile to a young man’s face. Mr. Samberg was gone already, and by the time we returned from our holiday, it would be gone anyway, food for a stray mouse.
Timothy was still there when I returned, and I gave him the cookie, thrilled to see the sadness retreat from his expression while he studied the marvel in his hands. “This is all for me? This whole cookie?”
“Merry Christmas, Timothy.” I held the door open, turned off the lights, and followed him outside. “Be a good boy, and I’ll see you after New Year’s.” I locked the door and by the time I turned to leave, the little boy was nowhere in sight. I wished I had so much more to give to this child and to the others who might have less-than happy Christmases for different reasons this year.
Like me, many had lost relatives in the Spanish Flu epidemic a few years before, others had folks who were out of work or had debt that made it impossible to buy things for a festive meal or gifts.
Saddened by the thoughts that not all the children I taught would have what all children should have for Christmas, I trudged away from the school building.
“Hey, you. I have a bone to pick with you, Mr. Teacher.”
That couldn’t be...but it was. An elf.
A Very Genre Christmas by Kim Fielding
1
Portland, Oregon — December 1954
“Hey, Nick. We’ve got another one.”
“I’ll be over right away, sweetheart.” I hung up the phone receiver but remained seated in my padded desk chair. Amelia Sansone had sounded annoyed instead of afraid, so I didn’t have to hurry. I finished my cigarette and whiskey, then took a minute to make sure my Colt was fully loaded. I shouldn’t need it on a call like this, but in my line of work, assumptions get you dead.
Out in the reception area of my office, Carmilla Karnstein paused her typing and watched as I buttoned on my overcoat. I’d met her during one of my previous jobs for Amelia, and she’d ended up as my secretary. She was an odd duck, but she arrived at work before dawn and never left before sunset, and she was a whiz at getting bloodstains out of my clothes—a favor I needed pretty often.
“Another one at the bookshop?” Her husky voice seemed a mismatch for her delicate frame. But she was older than she looked, and her pale beauty was only a façade for her sharp mind.
I set my fedora on my head. “Yeah. I doubt I’ll be back after, so lock up for me, please.”
“Of course. Good luck, Mr. Bozic.”
I tipped my hat and headed out.
It was a typical winter afternoon in Portland, gray and drippy, with mist obscuring details and blurring edges. I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred this weather to bright sunshine, which brought false promises. And anyway, I was in a good mood as I walked down Burnside toward Sansone Booksellers. Although Amelia had some dough, I’m not sure I’d have charged her for these jobs. The city paid my bills for these particular calls, and the city paid well.
My office was in a third-floor walkup across the street from the Chevy dealership, but Sansone’s was in a more upscale location on 6th Avenue, near the Fred Meyers. Her retail space occupied the bottom two floors, her office was above that, and the top two floors contained apartments she rented out. She could’ve saved herself a lot of grief by moving somewhere else, away from the Rift, but business was good where she was, and she was too stubborn to budge. For a dame who’d been left with nothing after her husband bought it on Okinawa, she was doing well for herself.
Amelia met me as soon as I entered. She was a small woman whose gray suits always appeared to be swallowing her, and she kept her light brown hair in a pixie cut to avoid fuss. “You walked again instead of driving?” she said by way of greeting.
“Needed the exercise. Besides, takes less time to walk than to find a place to park near your joint.”
“Suit yourself.”
I took off my hat and followed her to the back stairway. “So, what’ve we got this time? It ain’t another kid, is it? That one was a pain in the ass.” He kept waving a stick around and saying words that Amelia told me were mostly bad Latin. I was glad when we sent him back home.
“No, and it’s nobody you’ll need to shoot, so you can keep that gun tucked away.”
I shrugged. You never can tell who’ll need shooting. Then I had a hopeful thought. “Is it another guy wearing nothing but that, uh….” I waved vaguely around the region of my groin.
Amelia gave me a knowing look and shook her head. “Loincloth? No. This one is fully dressed.”
Shame. Now that fellow had been something to look at, with long black hair and gray eyes, and he had a lot of interesting stories about apes and other animals. He was athletic too. I took him to Forest Park, partly because I wanted to watch him in action, and he’d swung from fir branch to fir branch as easy as you please. That had been a pretty sight.
The first flight of bookshop stairs was wide, with pale marble steps and a polished wooden railing, but the second—used only by employees—wasn’t for show. A little window on the landing had a view of the alley and the grayish building on the other side.
“You’re not gonna give me any hints about this one?” I coaxed Amelia as we ascended the final part of the staircase.
She got an odd expression, one I couldn’t read. “We have a big display of Christmas titles out now.”
Well, that wasn’t enlightening.
Whenever the Rift shifted, the results ended up in a dead-end hallway on the third floor, just around the corner from Amelia’s personal office. Nobody knew why, although the eggheads at that commie college across the river liked to throw around fancy words and call them theories. In any case, after the first couple of times, Amelia had arranged for iron bars to be installed across the hallway, forming a sort of jail, with a heavy lock holding the gate closed. That kept most of the results contained until they could be dealt with, although a few had managed to slither or ooze through the openings, and a muscular blond guy with a giant hammer had smashed his way right through the wall. Then he’d jumped, apparently under the impression that he could fall forty feet with no problem.
That one hadn’t ended well.
I didn’t draw my Colt, but I made sure my coat was unbuttoned, and I kept my hand hovering near the holster as we turned the corner.
“Oh jiminy, ma’am, I thought you were never coming back!”
I stopped walking so suddenly that I almost tripped over my own feet.
A man stood inside the makeshift cell, his hands wrapped around the bars. He was a good four inches shorter than my five-ten, slender, probably in his late twenties. His pale straight hair hung to his shoulders in back and swooped across his forehead in front, and he had a slightly pointed chin, pink cheeks, and enormous cornflower-blue eyes.
But it was his clothing that had thrown me for a loop: shiny red boots; red-and-white-striped stockings; an emerald-green tunic with red belt, cuffs, and collar; and a floppy, pointed green hat. With a giant bell at the end.
And did I mention that his ears were pointed too?
I turned to Amelia. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Detective, meet Evindal, the Christmas elf.”
Strawberry Spiced Omega by Suzi Hawke
Hank
"So, tell me, Ezra. How are you liking it at our little hospital?" I took another bite of Tiramisu, biting back a groan as the coffee flavored cream exploded across my tongue.
"It's not much different than the positions I've held in other places, although I must say, Hollydale does have its particular charms." His deep, melodic voice washed over me like a warm breeze. Even after a couple of months of dating, his voice still got me every time.
I bit my lip as a faint blush warmed my cheeks from his insinuation. Dating a coworker wasn't ideal, although there were no explicit rules against it since we worked in separate areas of the hospital. The little fact of us both being in management positions didn't hurt either, since neither of us were superior to the other. Ezra ran the IT department, while I was the head of Pediatrics.
"You're quiet now. Did I make you uncomfortable?" I looked up at his question, smiling at once to ease the concern that filled those dark, soulful eyes.
"Not at all," I said, setting my fork down and leaning back in my chair. "I was just thinking about how nice it is that we are on the same level at the hospital. It wouldn't be prudent for me to date someone in a lower position. You alphas can get away with that stuff, but omegas? We have an entirely different set of unspoken rules to follow."
Ezra frowned slightly. "I hate that shit. We're all professionals, doing our jobs. It shouldn't matter your status. Alphas aren't any better than omegas, and from what I've seen in my work, you guys often work twice as hard. You, more than any, I would guess. To not only be a department head, but chief of surgery before the age of thirty-five is amazing for anyone. As an omega, I cannot imagine how you must have driven yourself to reach this point in your career. My hat is definitely off to you , Henry ."
I shrugged, never one to like the spotlight. "It was definitely a push, and there were many nights of lost sleep. But it was worth it. I'm reminded of this with each child I am able to save or improve their quality of life."
Ezra reached across the table and covered my hand with his own. "Shall we continue our conversation back at my place? Or did you need to get home tonight?"
I shook my head. "I'm off the next two days. I'm finally over that cold I've been fighting and wanted to get some downtime. And yes, I think heading back to your place sounds wonderful."
Rivals by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Chapter One
Jared
“The name is wrong on my bag.” Ten shoved his Team USA kit bag onto the bed, right on top of my neatly folded T-shirts. “I filled in the form Madsen-Rowe and look!” He pointed at the single word ROWE that appeared in several places on the bag. I gently picked it up, and placed it to one side, then smoothed out my small supply of official team shirts in all their red and white glory. Ten had been a flurry of motion today— the last few hours before attending the All-Star game, and then flying direct to Beijing— and he hadn’t stopped since three this morning when he’d woken up flailing and muttering about bacon. God knows what he’d been dreaming about, but if it involved his beloved bacon, then it had to be serious.
“I’ll get you a marker, and you can add the Madsen,” I teased, but I hadn’t read the room, because Ten slumped to the bed, only just missing my folded tees.
“I miss Charlotte already, and we’re doing this huge thing, and they can’t even get my name right.”
Okay, this was serious, so I picked up the shirts and placed them out of harm’s reach, then sat next to my fretting husband, hugging him, and resting my cheek on his hair. “I miss her as well,” I murmured, then felt and heard his whole-body sigh.
“I know she’ll be fine with Mom— spoiled— and I know it’s only a while, but I wish she was coming with us, and I wish they’d gotten my name right. It’s like they forgot I’m married.” He suddenly tensed; “Holy shit, what if my jersey is wrong as well.” He stood then, shook me off, and raced out of the room with a resounding, no fucking way!
As soon as he’d gone, I checked my official duffle, and thankfully, saw that the full name was stitched onto it.
“Something else that makes Canada better,” I said smugly to no one, and then realized that I should be more upset on Ten’s behalf. The fact we had been picked to represent our countries on opposing teams hadn’t come between us in any way— apart from the constant teasing I got from the Rowe brothers with their stupid-ass childish “USA is better” chant in the family chat, which I could mostly ignore. I took the higher ground and simply sent them a picture of the Canadian team in 2014, which was my way of saying “take-that-team-USA”. Funnily enough, both the Rowe boys and I ignored 2018— some things were best not spoken about, and we were all getting tired of Stan waxing lyrical about the Russians.
There was a healthy rivalry among us all, friends and family alike, but in my heart I kind of dreaded the aftereffects of losses where national pride was concerned. Canada wasn’t just my birthplace, it was in my heart, and I was proud of my heritage, and being chosen as one of the Team Canada assistant coaches made me want to burst with pride, and of course I wanted to beat Team USA soundly. But as Ten’s husband, I wanted him to win because I was so proud of him, and he was one of the best players of his generation, and he deserved to win. But then, Ryker was Team Canada, and to see my son win a medal would be the pinnacle of hockey-dad life.
I already had a gold medal from 2014, part of the victorious Canada team, although to be fair, I’d ridden the bench for most of it. Still, I’d played in that final game, and I’d been part of the team that had taken gold. I wanted that for Ten, but I wanted it for Ryker as well.
I was confused, and patriotic, and then more confused, and then a proud spouse, and father, and friend, and really, all I wanted to do was get to Beijing and start coaching some hockey.
The entire Railers team had ended up at our place to watch the opening ceremony. Depending on whether a player had been at the All-Star weekend, guys like Ten, Tate, and Stan, wouldn’t be arriving until a full three days after the opening ceremony, but with an intense season and not a day to spare no NHL player would make the grand beginnings of the games at all. So instead, every single one of us had stared in awe at the beautiful Beijing National Indoor Stadium and cheered as our various teams behind the flags of our countries passed by. Stan cried, which not even one of us laughed at. This was overwhelmingly intense.
It was disappointing, and maybe we got a better view watching it on the TV, but still, to have been there, parading for our countries? That would have been awesome.
Ten arrived back with his cell phone to his ear; “… and that’s non-negotiable!” he snapped, and then ended the call with a terse goodbye.
I winced. “Who were you shouting at?”
“Ed, our team equipment manager,” he groused, and then his eyes widened. “Shit, I just shouted at poor Ed, the wonderful, amazing, team equipment manager.”
I stayed quiet— Ten was placid off the ice, passionate about his sport, but he was never rude, and I could see all those emotions passing over his face.
“Shit,” he said again, and then pressed redial, and slunk out of the bedroom, probably so I didn’t hear him apologizing to Ed, who was a perfectly nice man and didn’t deserve anyone being a diva. I carried on packing, knowing the bulk of what we needed would already be in Beijing with the start of the tournament only a week away. We’d practiced some, shifted lines around, but none of the teams had real ice time after the qualification rounds.
My biggest issue was with the final six D-men I was going to recommend to Abraham Devers, the Canadian head coach for the duration, who coached for New York in the season. I already had a short list of seven from the pool I’d been given, but I’d not physically played with any of them, and the notebooks I’d filled with details weren’t making the picture any clearer.
I’d even taken to checking out social media to see what the fans said, but I got stuck on the Ten! Watch website, reading on the forum about how the sexiest player in the world was Ten, and how no defenseman from any country could touch him. Of course, I agreed with the sexiest part, and felt a sudden urge to kiss some of his stress away. Still, I had a few defensemen who made Ten work hard, him and Tate Collins both, and yet again, I went from angsty to proud and back again.
“Ed’s forgiven me,” Ten dropped his cell onto the bed and sat down so heavily I swore the frame creaked. “I told him about Charlotte, and the way that…” He stopped and scrubbed his eyes.
I tugged him in for a hug, then did this complicated flip maneuver that had him under me, his mouth slack with shock. Then, I proceeded to kiss him soundly, and after a short while, he relaxed into the mattress. We didn’t have time for more, but this was enough to ground him and me.
His cell chimed with a familiar tone that he had for his family. We scrambled up together in panic, and he answered it immediately. The video call connected, and we were face-to-face with our beautiful daughter, who stared at the screen and then pointed at us.
“Dadda! Pappa!” she said, and then turned away, probably to talk to Ten’s mom, Jean, who shuffled into view so we could see them both.
“Hey, Lottie!” Ten called, and Lottie gave the widest grin, holding up a toy bear and waggling it at us. She was over a year now, and while she was linking a few words, it was mostly sounds and waving toys. She was everything to us. She was bigger than us, bigger than hockey, and worth more than any Olympics— and that was what we needed to remember.
“We just had pancakes,” Jean announced.
“You did?” Ten said, and his grin was so wide I wondered if it would ever leave his face. “Lottie? Yummy?” he asked and made smacking noises to indicate eating.
Lottie stared at us, babbling about her teddy, but she too was smiling, and that was a nice image to take with us when the call ended.
“So, what did Ed tell you?” I asked after a short pause.
Ten flushed in embarrassment. “My jerseys have Madsen-Rowe on them,” Ten said and lay back against the pillows.
“So, it’s just the bag that Team USA messed up on?”
He shot me a wry look, then sighed. “I overreacted.”
“Yep.”
He sighed some more, then we exchanged an extra kiss. We weren’t even flying out to Beijing together, me stuck in one more planning session, Ten jetting out first class after appearing in the All-Star game. He was proud to have been invited to the All-Star— an event where a ton of specially invited players went up against each other in things like hardest shot, or fastest lap. It was just bad timing that it was right before the olympics.
I laced my fingers in his. “I’ll miss you,” I murmured, and pressed my forehead to his. We’d done everything together for so long, apart from the Stan/ Elvis Christmas road trip, which I still hadn’t entirely forgiven him for. The thought of not being together was unsettling.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
“We’re lucky that at least we’re going to be around each other, Stan spent an hour in the chat talking about how Erik is staying back here.”
“Was that before or after he talked about how Russia is best.”
We both chuckled then because since he, Ten, and Bryan Delaney, the Railers’ second goalie, had been signed up by their countries, Stan had been like a broken record.
“I need to finish packing.” He rolled off the bed, and I had to restrain myself from tugging him back and pinning him down so I could get some more kisses. Instead, I settled for watching him tuck one of Lottie’s tiny teddies into his bag, and then doing the same for me. Finally, we couldn’t delay things any longer, and it didn’t help that a team car was outside for him, and he really had to go. I stopped him at the door, grasping his hand.
“Good luck,” I murmured into a kiss.
“Good luck,” he whispered. Then, he lifted a single eyebrow and, with his best impersonation of Stan, growled: “USA best,” then darted away before I could squash him like a bug. He waved as he got into the car, and I waved, making a heart with my hands and sighing as the car went through the gates, watching them close behind him.
Now it was just me, and my car wasn’t going to arrive for a while. I couldn’t join Ten at the All-Star Game, instead I was heading out to a coach’s camp, so I didn’t know what to do with myself. I tidied away a few of Lottie’s toys, checked I had everything I needed, checked it again, locked up the house, unlocked the back door to relock it, just so I knew it was done. Anything to kill time.
Finally, I checked some game tape. Only it wasn’t for Team Canada. Nope, it was my old favorite— the first time Ten had gotten back on the ice after his accident.
I had it bad.
Which was good.
The airport was manic, but at least we didn’t have the fanfare on leaving that Team USA did— boarding from New York, there were crowds of supporters. While we did have some fuss, we weren’t Team USA flying out of an American city, so the players got some attention, but luckily, myself and the other coaches slipped through mostly unnoticed. That meant I got to sit and chat with our head coach, and while Abraham Devers was normally a rival on ice, this time I could talk frankly about the D-men I was working with and the three who were giving me issues. The players were at the back of the plane, us at the front, along with a couple of the figure skating coaches, and thankfully, we could use the time to talk.
“So, the three we need to discuss?”
“Jennings, Hennessey, and LaFleur,” I reeled off the names easily enough, and Devers nodded. “My instinct is to keep Hennessey in reserve.” At only twenty, he was the youngest of the three, and was so damn fast no one could keep up, but what we lacked in defense was the big guys, the ones who could protect our forwards— protect Ryker. Not that I was thinking that way, I was a professional, and Ryker was one of several forwards who needed protection. We had to go for bulk and brawn over speed sometimes.
“Agreed, I like what Hennessey brings to the table, and we can switch him in if needed. It’s the US side we have to be careful with, Tate and Ten.” He side-eyed me, and I waited for him to ask me if I had insider information, but all he did was smile. “Tate and Ten, the dream team,” he added. “But we have Ryker, and he’s a chip off the old block, don’t you think?”
Enormous pride welled inside me, but I didn’t give anything away.
“I couldn’t say,” I finally offered.
We bumped fists, and then Devers sat back in his seat, iPad on his chest, staring at game film. “This could be our Olympics,” he mused.
I sat back as well, lovingly hugging my clipboard with the penciled-in names, my bible of skills, my list of awesome, and let myself imagine for a moment Team Canada getting the gold. Then, getting a squirrely feeling in my chest at the thought of Ten not winning, and then, thinking about Ryker, again.
Fuck my life.
This could be rough.
Head Rush by Davidson King
PROLOGUE
Rush
Living in Haven Hart wasn’t how I thought it would be. When Simon and I left Abernathy University and I said good-bye to a life I never wanted in favor of one filled with love, I’d hoped for peace…to fulfill my dreams…and maybe to not get shot at.
But the love of my life is Simon Manos, nephew of mob boss Christopher Manos—and did I mention, he’s the heir to the mafia kingdom? Yeah, so, while being the man Simon loves has its perks, there are also downsides—like having a bullseye over my head for every person who wants to hurt the Manos family to aim at.
I’ve lived in Haven Hart for a year now, and the day we got here Simon warned me there was a war brewing, which I knew already. See, there’s this other mob boss, Liam Brennan, and he pretty much tried to have Simon and me killed when we were at Abernathy. Revenge for that was put on the back burner in favor of dealing with a different enemy. One that threatened not only Liam Brennan and Christopher Manos, but also Simon, me, and Liam’s son, Fred. That bad guy? He was my dad. Was being the key word, but I try not to think too much about the was factor. It becomes depressing.
Once dear old Dad was gone, the Manos family decided it was time to deal with Liam Brennan, and that wasn’t as easy as they thought it would be.
I’d been going to my classes with about four bodyguards, all of them armed, and I couldn’t even stand outside by myself most days. I heard Christopher talking to his husband, Snow, one evening about how they’d hoped this sort of violence in Haven Hart was long gone. I guess there’d been a serious shit storm some years back.
I tried to stay out of Simon’s business—not because he told me to, but because I genuinely wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted to sing and perform; that was my dream. But the more I turned a blind eye, the brighter the lights shining in my face were, and I was beginning to think I couldn’t ignore the dangers in favor of music.
Any doubts that I could pretend my life was normal were thrown out the window one chilly night as I was walking out of Hart University, heading toward the car that would take me home.
It happened as fast as all the books and movies tell you it does. One minute I was talking to one of my bodyguards, and the next, he was on the pavement, dead with a bullet through the head.
I was thrown to the ground, someone was on top of me, and the sounds of shouts and gunshots filled the night. I closed my eyes and wished it would all disappear, knowing this was my reality, this was what I’d chosen. All because I fell in love.
Lorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
Kim Fielding is the bestselling, award-winning author of over 60 novels and novellas. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, horror, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.
Having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls California home. She lives there with her family, her cat, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.
I'm a happily married mom of one snarky teenage boy, and three grown "kids of my heart." As a reader and big romance fan myself, I love sharing the stories of the different people who live in my imagination. My stories are filled with humor, a few tears, and the underlying message to not give up hope, even in the darkest of times, because life can change on a dime when you least expect it. This theme comes from a lifetime of lessons learned on my own hard journey through the pains of poverty, the loss of more loved ones than I'd care to count, and the struggles of living through chronic illnesses. Life can be hard, but it can also be good! Through it all I've found that love, laughter, and family can make all the difference, and that's what I try to bring to every tale I tell.
**Taken from the author's FB Page June 15, 2022**
It is with a heavy heart that we're making this post. On June 14th, 2022, Susi/Susan Hawke passed away.
Susi loved her readers, fellow authors, and writing community with every ounce of her heart, and we are all better for having her in our lives.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Lorelei M Hart
EMAIL: Lorelei@mpregwithhart.com
Kim Fielding
Susi/Susan Hawke
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
The Omega's Krampus Christmas by Lorelei M Hart
A Very Genre Christmas by Kim Fielding
Strawberry Spiced Omega by Susi Hawke
Rivals by RJ Scott & VL Locey
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