Summary:
The Kings: A Treemendous Christmas #3
Giovanni Galanos’s life took a dramatic turn after a terrifying ordeal and a newfound health condition led him home. Leaving behind his globetrotting adventures in favor of a more grounded existence, Gio finds solace in the arms of his love, Sacha “Joker” Wilder, a complex and captivating man who held Gio’s heart from the moment they first spoke. Together, along with their furry companions—Cookie, Gio’s service dog, and Chip, Sacha’s mischievous Belgian Malinois—his unconventional family forges a bond stronger than any hardship life can throw their way.
As the air teems with holiday cheer, Winterhaven unveils itself in all its enchanting glory. But a mishap has Sacha grumpier than usual. Amidst the joyous chaos that surrounds them, can the town’s holiday magic reignite Sacha’s Christmas spirit?
Join Gio and Sacha, along with their merry band of former Green Berets and their partners, as they navigate misadventures and heartwarming moments in Winterhaven, where true love and the transformative power of Christmas await.
As with Sleigh it Ain't So, the pairing in Home for the Howlidays was originally at the center of Sleight of Hand which was the third entry in The Kings: Wild Card. And just as mentioned in my review for Sleigh, there were a few factors that probably would have flowed a bit better had I read their original story first but again I was never lost nor did it take away any enjoyment from this holiday portion of their journey.
Gio and Joker's holiday romp is once again full of the humor and love that are needed to make a good rom com. Also in the typical flow of chaos that seems to follow this lovely group of men who have become their very own found family, Ace plays his part which puts Joker "out of commission". There's cords, a ladder, and Ace . . . I'll leave it at that so you can fully experience Ace in all his chaotic spotlight for yourself.
What holiday wouldn't be complete without a bit of a grump? I won't go as far as to put Joker's grumpiness on a Scrooge/Grinch scale but he's definitely not a happy camper. I can't say "as always Gio is able to pull his man out of his funk" since they are actually a new pairing to me(see note above) but I have a feeling it's not the first time Gio had to dig down and pull Joker up. The couple, along with their trusty and loyal sidekicks Cookie and Chip, work their magic to help bring Winterhaven to it's holiday glory.
With each entry in The Kings: Treemendous Christmas we see the men of Four Kings and the Boyfriend Collective play to their strengths to insure this holiday town is able to be the Christmas destination they are known for and thrive at. Along the way they have found that the downtime that so often eludes them can be filled with wonders they didn't even realize they were missing. I'm already sad knowing there is only one entry left to go but I have a strong feeling this won't be the last time I revisit The Kings Treemendous Christmas.
Summary:
Dylan’s Cornish retreat wasn’t supposed to include a hot bloke and a cupid-playing ghost…
After tearing his Achilles tendon, recuperating by the sea sounds like a fantastic idea, and Dylan happily accepts his best mate’s offer to stay with him and his uncle for a few weeks. But he hadn’t counted on the uncle being smoking hot, or the fierce attraction that blossoms between them.
Swapping the busy streets of London for the easy pace of Cornish life is exactly what Gareth needs to move on with his own life. His new home requires a little TLC, but he’d expected that. What he hadn’t expected was the ghostly resident already living there.
A ten-year age gap isn’t the only issue standing between Dylan and Gareth. Their time together has an expiration date. By Christmas, Dylan will be back home in Bristol spending the holidays with his dad, leaving Gareth all alone. Luckily for them, a matchmaking Christmas Spirit has other ideas.
A Christmas MM romance featuring a meet-cute, pining, a meddling ghost, a teeny bit of angst, and a festive HEA.
Summary:
Tinsel & Tentacles #6
Jack Marsh has twelve days to pull off the perfect Christmas.
Even though his beloved grandmother has just passed, his rotten family is expecting him to host in her place. He already hated this time of year, and now he has to decorate, bake cookies, wrap presents, and create a delicious holiday feast.
Enter Xorvash, an interdimensional tentacle creature from another plane of existence. Thanks to a minor kitchen mishap, Xorvash comes crashing into Jack's life and promises to do the impossible. Jack suspects Xorvash's interest in him goes far beyond merely wanting to help him deck the halls, and he's having trouble resisting Xorvash's unique charms. With some luck and a sprinkle of holiday magic, Jack might get some sweet tentacle romance for Christmas—plus a little miracle or two.
Twelve Days of Squidmas is part of the Tinsel and Tentacles multi-author collaboration and a complete standalone. Expect to find a grumpy human and a sunshine tentacle creature, lots of silly snark, smexy tentacle times, and a magical happily ever after. Want more tantalizingly tentacular winter holiday romances? Grab the whole series!
Summary:
Heat of Love #3.5
Winter-fox always brings Tristan the best gifts
Tristan wakes every winter holiday to find a present that delights him or teaches him an important lesson.
Learn more about the character of Tristan, Bitter Heat’s Kerry and Janus’s son, in this short winter holiday-themed story. This small bonus book doesn’t contain the heat level of the full-length novels in this series, but it has all the cozy, hopeful warmth for a sweet holiday read. While it ends on a romantic note, the story does not contain a romance arc.
This story is not a standalone and is best read as an addition to the Heat of Love series, preferably after reading Bitter Heat. But if you should happen to read it out of order, you can find the rest of the books on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.
Anna Martin's Christmas Short Stories #4
Not many people can say they own a reindeer, but Nick McLeish is a vet, and happens to have a whole herd. At Christmastime they’re the star attraction at fetes and events all around Edinburgh, so when a handful escape from their home pasture, Nick tries to recruit as many people as possible to help get them back.
After his drunk and rather inelegant first meeting with his new neighbour, Joel Brodie doesn’t expect to see much of Nick. But the start of Christmas break from his job at a matchmaking company coincides with the reindeer getting lost, and it’s not exactly a chore to spend more time with Nick searching for them. Maybe a little Christmas spirit is what they both need to turn their single situations around.
Home for the Howlidays by Charlie Cochet
Chapter One
“I’m pretty sure Clara asked us to decorate the Ice Castle, not make it visible from space,” Sacha grumbled as he added another layer of icicle lights to the roof of the building.
Thankfully, the Ice Castle was only one story and didn’t require Sacha to get into the knuckle boom again. Seeing his boyfriend up that high made Gio nervous, even if Sacha had been more excited than concerned.
“Well, no one is going to miss it, that’s for sure,” Gio replied as he held Sacha’s ladder. He was ready to be done, and although Sacha had suggested he go inside numerous times, Gio wanted to help. With only Ace and Sacha putting up the lights outside and everyone else focused on the larger task of decorating the interior of the Ice Castle, the two needed a hand, so Gio stayed.
They’d gotten an early start, planning to get as much done as possible before guests filled the town and flocked to Mugs and Kisses, the town’s café. After hours of hanging lights, they were nearly done. As much as they enjoyed the snowy holiday, they weren’t used to the biting cold, which had forced them to take more breaks than expected.
It might not be snowing, and they were bundled up from head to toe, but several inches of snow had fallen during the night, and brief intervals of snow flurries fell throughout the morning. They had to finish before the sun set and the temperature dropped.
Decorating the Ice Castle was the final step in helping Winterhaven pull off another successful holiday season. When Colton surprised their family with a Christmas vacation, they’d had no idea a terrible snowstorm had swept through Winterhaven, wreaking havoc with the town’s shipments and causing damage to the main building where they held all the indoor festivities.
Thanks to Leo—who’d reminded them they had the resources to help—Mason and Lucky had repaired the damage to the Ice Castle roof while Jack restored the electricity. Colton had used his shipping connections to deliver everything the town needed in time to kick off the holiday celebrations. They’d all pitched in, helping the townspeople decorate the main street, town square, and market stalls. With the only thing missing being the guests, Gio stepped in to do his part.
“I can’t believe you booked an entire vacation lodge,” Ace said, fastening another row of lights to the roof. “That’s awesome, Gio.”
Gio saw it as helping. “They’re an amazing group of volunteers who are passionate about helping others. I’ve worked with them for years. They’re what keep our organizations going, so I wanted to do something nice for them.” When Fitz asked him if there was a way he would be able to help Winterhaven, he’d realized he could help the town and show his volunteers that they were appreciated.
“And that’s why you’re a keeper,” Ace said, winking at him.
“He is. Now, can we finish this?” Sacha asked. “I can’t feel my fingers anymore. And I’m wearing gloves.”
Ace opened his mouth, and Sacha narrowed his eyes, receiving a quick nod.
“Yep, we’re done.”
Sacha descended the ladder, jumping off when he reached the bottom, his boots sinking into the snow. He turned and smiled up at Gio, stealing his breath away. Sacha was a beautiful, complicated man with a sharp tongue and a wicked sense of humor who most would describe as “grumpy,” but that was because he felt deeply. He was soft, sweet, and had a big heart, even if he didn’t always know how to express what he felt. Gio cherished being on the other end of that gorgeous smile. Snuggling under the covers with Sacha on a frosty winter morning quickly became Gio’s favorite thing.
“Well, hello.” Gio pulled Sacha into his arms and kissed him, the warmth of his mouth a stark contrast to their chilled skin.
Sacha hummed before pulling back. He bit his bottom lip, his eyes on Gio’s mouth. “We, uh, should go inside before our tongues freeze together.”
Gio couldn’t argue with that. Sacha grabbed the ladder, and they headed inside the Ice Castle, the warmth from the heating so lovely. The place looked fantastic. So different from when they’d first stepped foot inside. It had been dark and cold, and an absolute mess. Now it looked like a storybook palace that belonged in a snowy European village, with its white walls, blue and gold accents, and sparkling chandelier lighting.
The Ice Castle had been cleaned and decorated beautifully with lush frosted garland and delicate blue and white baubles. There were several rooms, with the largest being the main ballroom. Each room would host a different festive event until New Year’s Day, from baking contests and cookie and ornament decorating to card making and, on Christmas Day, meeting Santa and his reindeer.
With the boisterous laughter and noise coming from the main ballroom, it was easy to find the rest of their family. Together with the town’s residents, they were almost done decorating most of the Ice Castle’s interior, except for the main ballroom and one of the smaller ballrooms, which Clara had informed them was closed for an upcoming private event.
As soon as they stepped foot inside the room, they were bombarded by wiggly furry butts, wagging tails, and happy dog smiles. Gio had released Cookie from his service dog duties, letting him go inside with Chip and Duchess. No matter how excited and happy the snow made the dogs, they weren’t used to the cold either.
Even so, Chip, Cookie, and Cocoa seemed to be loving every minute of it. Duchess enjoyed it until she’d had enough, then she searched for the nearest warm spot. Right now, she was curled up in a fluffy bed near Fitz, who sat next to Jack, running his fingers through Cocoa’s fur as the puppy dozed in his arms. With all the lights going up, Jack had started programming them for various events, so they flashed in time to the music or whatever was happening.
When Gio became part of this amazing, quirky family, he’d been worried for Jack and Fitz. Everyone at Four Kings Security worked hard, but Jack had taken his responsibilities to an unhealthy level, and it had started to hurt those who cared about him. Gio understood because he’d been the same before losing his heart to Sacha. Gio was relieved that, like he had, Jack finally realized what he’d been doing to himself and his relationship.
Gio shoved his hat and gloves into his coat pocket before taking it off and dropping it on the growing pile strewn across the enormous red velvet couch to the side of the room. After a few belly rubs, Cookie decided to go off and play with Chip, his fluffy tail wagging happily. They darted off to be with Leo, who sat cross-legged on the floor with his laptop. What was Leo up to? He’d been secretive since they’d arrived, and no one knew what was happening. Not even King knew, but since King wasn’t worried, neither were the rest of them. They’d find out eventually.
Ace stopped next to Gio, his hands planted on his hips.
“It’s a thing of beauty, isn’t it?”
Gio nodded. “The ballroom is starting to come together.”
The vast ballroom had a giant Christmas tree with twinkling white lights positioned between the white and gold veined marble pillars lining the left and right sides of the room. The red velvet curtain along the back wall matched the curtains on the arched windows that lined both sides of the room. The marble floor gleamed, and the colossal gold chandelier above their heads twinkled like a starry night. It was beautiful.
“No, I meant all the glorious Christmas sweaters,” Ace said, sweeping his arm out toward their family and the unique attire on display. All of which had been, of course, Ace’s idea.
The previous Christmas, Ace came up with a different version of Secret Santa that only involved Christmas sweaters. The rule was that they would all pick a day to exchange gifts, and everyone would have to wear their sweater the whole day. Coincidently, King had gotten Ace as his Secret Santa two years in a row.
“Again, I’m going to say I didn’t agree to this,” King grumbled as he walked by carrying a box of decorations, his scowl telling everyone who his Secret Santa was. Actually, his Christmas sweater sporting the giant head of Nicolas Cage wearing a Santa hat made it clear who was behind the gift. Ace laughed and hurried after King, undoubtedly to bestow more Nicholas Cage impressions upon his disgruntled brother.
Gio leaned into Sacha. “Why do I get the feeling Ace is somehow skewing the odds in his favor?”
“Oh, you know Ace cheats his ass off,” Sacha replied. He dropped his gaze to his own Christmas sweater. “I think I lucked out with Keanu Reeves Jesus.”
Gio chuckled. “Well, Keanu does seem like a pretty great guy.”
“I could have gotten Lucky’s pink candy cane flamingos. Though he looks like he’s embraced it. You never know with him.”
Lucky didn’t seem bothered by his festive flamingos as he handed Mason another section of garland for the pillar they were decorating. The two were often off on their own, and it was sweet. Gio had seen them tucked away, kissing on more than one occasion. Anyone who saw the way they looked at each other could immediately see how in love they were. Gio hadn’t been around when the two had gotten together, but Sacha said it had been explosive.
“Colton was obviously Ace’s Secret Santa,” Sacha said with a snicker. “Who else would get Ace an ‘It’s not Christmas until Hans Gruber falls from Nakatomi Plaza’ Christmas sweater?”
Gio wasn’t sure who drew his name, but he was pretty pleased with his Elf “Son of a Nutcracker” sweater.
“Leo got the coolest one,” Sacha added, nodding toward Leo. “That Spidey Christmas sweater is pretty badass.”
“Agreed.”
Last year, the week before Christmas, they all got together to exchange their Secret Santa gifts. So, this morning after breakfast, they’d gathered in the cabin’s living room where Leo and Fitz had handed out the wrapped sweaters.
For all of the griping and groaning, everyone had fun unwrapping their gifts. Well, maybe fun was too strong a word where King was concerned, but the rest of them had had a good laugh.
They joined Colton in the middle of the room where he stood with a tablet. King was usually the one who gave the orders where his brothers-in-arms were concerned, but when it came to wrangling everyone, including the Boyfriends, King handed the reins to Colton and stepped away, far far away. As the CEO of a worldwide shipping company, no one was better at wrangling cats than Colton.
“The lights outside are done,” Sacha told Colton. “We’re at Griswold level out there, thanks to your husband.”
Colton chuckled. “I’m sure if you’d let him, he’d have found a way to add more, so thanks for reigning him in.”
“My pleasure. So, what’s next?”
“Mason and Lucky are working on adding garland to those pillars,” he said, pointing behind him. “Can you and Gio start on the ones on the other side? Each pillar has a box next to it with everything you’ll need. The garland is pre-lit.”
“Awesome.” Sacha headed for the pillar, and Gio followed. Festive holiday music filled the ballroom, the scents of Christmas in the air. Gio couldn’t help but grab Sacha’s hand and pull him behind the large pillar.
“You know everyone can still see us,” Sacha said, one thick brow arched, but his big blue-gray eyes sparkled with mischief. Oh, how Gio loved this side of him.
“I know.” It didn’t stop Gio from pulling Sacha into his arms and kissing him deeply and thoroughly. He loved how Sacha’s more petite frame fit against him and how he gave himself over completely. Trust was something Sacha didn’t give freely. Knowing he had Sacha’s trust and his heart was everything to Gio.
Sacha hummed and melted against Gio, the same as he always did. “You’re evil.” He sounded breathless, his gaze on Gio’s mouth.
“Me?”
“Yep. Because all I want to do is climb you like a tree, and instead, I have to climb that.” He motioned to the pillar behind them.
Gio chuckled. He brushed his lips over Sacha’s and slid his hands down to Sacha’s ass, squeezing it. “More to look forward to later then.” It had been almost two years since they’d started dating, and sometimes Gio still couldn’t believe Sacha was his. After everything they’d been through….
For years, Gio had been curious about Sacha, enthralled by his sexy voice. While Gio was abroad, he’d call his brother, Laz, and ask to be placed on speaker when he knew Sacha was there. He’d flirted and pushed Sacha’s buttons, knowing there had to be a reason for the man’s explosive reactions. Each phone call seemed to build on whatever was happening between them until Gio’s return ignited the powder keg of attraction they had for each other.
“Like I said. Evil.” Sacha kissed him, a quick but passionate kiss, before playfully shoving him away, making Gio laugh. He helped Sacha set up the ladder, and then searched for the end of the long, thick garland. Thankfully, the pillar was already equipped to hold each end of the garland that would be wrapped around it.
Sacha climbed up, and Gio handed him the looped metal end. He held the ladder while Sacha tried to secure it. “Damn it. It looks like the hook got bent while in storage. Can you find me a pair of pliers?”
Gio scanned the area and spotted a toolbox on the table across the room. “Sure. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” He walked to the table and opened the toolbox. There was a pair of pliers right on top. Perfect. Maybe when they got back to the cabin, they could take a nice warm shower together, he could get Sacha on his knees and—
“What the hell is this caught on?”
Gio turned around to see Ace tugging on an extension cord. What on earth was his friend doing? With a frown, Gio ran his gaze along the cord, following it the length of the floor, where it disappeared behind one of the Christmas trees between a set of pillars. It poked out the other side and continued to…. He gasped.
“Ace, stop!”
His warning came too late.
Ace jerked the extension cord with all his strength, and before Gio could get to the other side of the room, the ladder the cord had been wrapped around toppled to the floor, crashing down with Sacha tangled in it.
Christmas Spirit by Annabelle Jacobs
DYLAN
“Motherfuck—” I bit my lip as pain shot up the back of my calf. The tiny pop I’d felt a second before promised nothing good, and I could already hear my dad’s “I told you to get that looked at!”
I had a cardboard tray holding two coffees in one hand and my phone in the other. Looking around the coffee shop for somewhere to sit, I gingerly put a little weight on my ankle.
Hmm. Not too bad.
Not quite trusting it to hold, I limped over to an empty table in the corner. Two paces from the relative safety of a chair, it popped again, bigger and badder than the first. And ow, that really fucking hurt.
The coffees slipped from my hand as I winced in pain, but rather than falling to the floor in a liquid mess, they were swept from my grasp by two strong hands and set on the table in front of me.
“Are you okay?”
I looked up into a pair of concerned blue-grey eyes. “Um . . .” I straightened enough to take in the rest of him, and wow, he was hot. Older than me, maybe, but yeah. Wow.
Totally forgetting I’d just done some serious damage to my ankle, I put my foot down way too heavily. “Fuck!”
A hand on my elbow steadied me. “Maybe you should sit down for a sec.”
“Trying to,” I gritted out, but let him help me into the nearest chair. I collapsed into it with a groan and rubbed a hand over my face. “Pretty sure I’ve just fucked up my tendon.” Looking down at my poor foot, I carefully tried to move it up and down, and yep, there was a serious lack of flexibility going on there. My car was parked round the corner at the supermarket, but no way was I driving home. “Bollocks.”
The hot guy took a seat opposite me. “Is there anything I can do? Can you call someone?” He checked his watch. “I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes, but I can postpone and give you a lift to A&E if you need it.”
I was lost for words.
Literally had nothing to say in the face of such unexpected generosity. Would I do the same for a complete stranger? I liked to think I was that good of a person, but . . .
“Or not,” he added with a rueful smile when I failed to answer.
“Shit, sorry, you just took me by surprise.” Way to look like an arse, Dylan.
He grinned. “It’s fine. I’m now realising how this might look, and you’re absolutely right not to accept lifts with strange men. Even if they’re really not a serial killer, but just a vet who can’t help himself when animals, or people, are in trouble. I’m Gareth.” He held out his hand.
“Dylan,” I offered, accepting his handshake. He had nice hands, strong and capable.
“So, Dylan,” Gareth said, glancing down at my foot. “Are you okay getting home or wherever you need to be? Or can I help in any way?”
“Thanks for offering, but I’m going to call my dad and get him to drop me off at the minor injuries unit.” I had a lovely few hours of waiting in my future.
He stood and held out his hand again, which I shook. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it.” He gestured to my foot. “I hope it’s not too bad.”
“Thanks.” I watched him walk away. Specifically, I watched the way his jeans clung lovingly to his arse and wondered if he’d have been interested if I’d asked for his number. Oh well, too late now.
“I told you to get that looked at.” My dad pointed at the temporary cast, now covering the lower part of my leg, as he drove us home. He had a point, but I still rolled my eyes.
I reckoned I’d strained my tendon a couple of months ago when I’d tried running again for the first time in a few years. Hadn’t bothered to stretch properly beforehand, and I’d paid for it afterwards. “I rested it and iced it like you’re supposed to,” I grumbled.
“Clearly not for long enough. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been walking with a slight limp these past few weeks.”
I had. Couldn’t even deny it. But it didn’t exactly hurt, so I’d put it on the back burner to deal with later. I should’ve gone to the doctor when I felt a twinge in it last weekend, but I hadn’t.
And now here we were.
My ignoring the situation had resulted in a ruptured Achilles tendon and I was looking at ten to twelve weeks off my feet.
Wonderful.
Thankfully, I worked in a job where I could do most of it from home if I had to, but I still needed to go into the office for some of it.
No driving, no going out unless it was on crutches—which were the fucking devil—and no exercise. Not that I enjoyed exercising, but I enjoyed food and drink, so . . .
Fuck it all.
“I’ll drop you here, then go park the car and come back.” Josh, my best mate, pulled up outside the front of Southmead Hospital in the drop-off zone.
I opened the door and manoeuvred so I was sitting sideways. Turning back to him, I said, “You don’t need to come in with me. I’m sure I’ll manage.” How hard could it be?
Josh laughed. “Do you remember when my brother broke his leg?”
I winced. He’d been a nightmare on crutches. A fact I’d found hilarious at the time, but karma had certainly given me payback for that. “Yeah, point taken. I’ll wait just inside for you.”
Pulling myself to my feet, I then hopped across the road to the main doors and inside. The hospital was huge, and I scanned the foyer, looking for somewhere to sit down.
The Costa coffee shop was shut, but there were two rows of chairs over by the window, so I headed that way. They couldn’t have been more than fifty feet away, but fuck me, I had a bit of a sweat on by the time I made it over there.
Josh appeared about five minutes later and I stood to meet him. “Have you checked in?” He gestured to the reception desk.
I hadn’t, so I led him over.
The fracture clinic was on the ground floor, thank God, and we were directed to the right department and told to follow the signs.
“Do you want a wheelchair?” Josh offered. He pointed behind us to a couple of rows of hospital-issue wheelchairs.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. Can’t be that far.” I could see the sign for it from where we stood.
Turned out that the usual reception for the fracture clinic wasn’t open on a Saturday, so we had to walk to the fracture clinic itself. Which was miles. Okay, not miles, but I was seriously regretting not taking up Josh’s suggestion of a wheelchair by the time we got there. Much to his amusement.
The orthopaedic surgeon confirmed that I had indeed ruptured my tendon and explained what my treatment would look like depending on how far apart the ends of the tendons were. Got to say, the idea of my tendons flapping about in the back of my ankle made me squirm.
Josh nudged my side as we sat waiting to get my new proper cast. “What’re you going to do for the next ten weeks then?”
I side-eyed him, then looked pointedly at my leg. “Not a great deal, obviously.”
He ignored me. “I meant with work and stuff.”
“Oh.” Ugh, work. No more going to the office for me. “Boss says I can work from home full time while this heals.” I normally did two days from home, three in the office, depending on our workload. “Ten weeks of being stuck at home is going to suck.”
Don’t get me wrong, I loved being able to work from home, but when it was the only option, it suddenly wasn’t half as appealing.
“Come to Cornwall with me,” Josh said, fiddling with his phone as though he hadn’t just said something so out of the blue I just stared at him. “What?” He looked up when I still hadn’t replied.
“Since when are you going to Cornwall? In November?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot I’d not told you.” He waved in the general direction of my leg. “This distracted me.”
I gestured for him to carry on explaining.
“My uncle bought a cottage down in Porthmerrack. It’s in a pretty shit state, so me and my dad are helping him renovate. Well, it’s just me now. My dad’s got another project.”
“And you want me to help instead?” I asked, eyebrows raised, because he couldn’t actually be serious.
“Yes,” he answered, deadpan. “I thought you could help me rip out the kitchen.” He flicked me on the forehead.
“Ow.”
“Of course I don’t want you to fucking help, you idiot.” Josh gave me a withering look, and yes, I probably deserved that.
“What then?”
“I thought, since you’re working from home anyway, you might as well come down with me. It’ll get you out from under your dad’s feet. You two will be a nightmare if you have to spend that much time together.” He wasn’t wrong. “Plus, it’s right by the sea. What’s not to like?”
“It’s November. And in case you’d forgotten, I can’t exactly go walking along the beach.” I sounded whiny to my own ears, but in my defence, I was still getting used to the idea of being on crutches for the next god-knew-how-many weeks.
“It’ll still be November if you stay here, and I know you can’t do much, but it’d be a change of scene. And apparently, they go all out for Christmas down there, and I know how you feel about fairy lights.” He laughed when I reached over to punch him.
But he wasn’t wrong there. I had a huge soft spot for Christmas and everything that came with it. My mum had been a big fan and always went overboard with decorations. I’d tried my best over the years to decorate our house like she would’ve done. Nowhere near her standards, but I’d always made the effort, even when my dad had still been struggling.
“Look,” Josh said. “You don’t have to stay the whole time I’m there, just come down for a bit, see if you like it.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” I didn’t have time to say more, because the nurse popped her head out and called my name.
“Just think about it, yeah?” Josh said, as I hauled myself to my feet.
“Fine.”
I thought about it while they put a nice purple cast on my lower leg. On the way back to the hospital entrance. And while I waited for Josh to go fetch his car.
“Where would I stay?”
“It’s a three-bed cottage, and two of the bedrooms are already finished, along with the upstairs bathroom. You can stay with me in the guest room.”
“Not sure I fancy hauling myself upstairs every time I need a piss.”
“It’s got a downstairs loo as well. It’s just not been updated yet.” He turned to look at me. “It’s fine if you don’t want to go. It was just a suggestion.”
With that, he pulled out of the waiting zone and drove me back home.
My dad met us at the front door. “What did they say?”
“I get the cast off two weeks on Tuesday. Got to have an ultrasound between now and then to see if I’ll need surgery or not.”
He winced in sympathy. “Fingers crossed, eh?”
“Yep.”
He stepped back to let us both in and led the way into the living room where I collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh. God, this was going to be my spot for the next two and a half months. From here I could see into the dining room, which doubled as an office. My dad also worked from home sometimes. We tried to alternate so that we weren’t always home on the same day, but that wouldn’t be doable if I was here all the bloody time.
I loved my dad, he was the best, but we were too alike to spend too much time together in an enclosed space and not argue. Suddenly Josh’s offer sounded a lot more appealing.
“What about my hospital appointments?” I blurted out, taking everyone by surprise.
My dad stared at me, confusion evident, but Josh smirked, clearly following my train of thought.
Turning to my dad, he explained his proposal. “And I can bring you back up for your appointments; it’s not a problem.”
I frowned. “You sure? It’s a bit of a drive here and back.”
Josh shrugged, unconcerned. “It’s what, two and a half, maybe three hours? And we can stop overnight, go back in the morning.”
Biting my lip, I gave his offer some serious consideration. Could I pack up and leave here for the next couple of months? Obviously, I didn’t have to stay down there that long, I might wear out my welcome way before then. But a few weeks by the sea? Even if I couldn’t take advantage of walks along the beach, it would be a change of scene. And that sounded mighty appealing right about now.
Three days later I sat in the front of Josh’s van with my cast awkwardly propped up on his bench seat. Not the most comfortable drive I’d ever endured, but it wasn’t the worst, and my foot was elevated the whole way. I called it a win.
Josh pulled up on a gravel driveway, tyres crunching on the loose stones.
“Well,” Josh said, gesturing to the old house in front of us with a flourish. “What do you think?”
There was only one thought in my head at that moment. How the fuck am I supposed to crutch my way over all that gravel? The front door might as well have been a mile away rather than about twelve feet.
Josh turned to face me and frowned. “I know it doesn’t look much from the outside, but—”
“It’s not that,” I added quickly. “The house is going to be gorgeous when it’s finished, and the location is amazing.” It really was. The view from the front wasn’t bad, and I could only imagine what it looked like from the back garden. His uncle had lucked out with this property.
“Then what?”
I pointed to the gravel driveway leading up to the front door.
“Oh.”
We sat in the van and stared at it for so long, a laugh burst out of me. “We can’t sit here all day.”
He scrunched up his nose, then looked at me, assessing, and I knew what he was about to say. “I could always—”
“No.” I shook my head for good measure. “You are not carrying me.”
“But—”
“Seriously, Josh, it’s not happening. I’ll be fine. I’ll just go slow.”
He looked far from convinced about it, but no way was I having him attempt to carry me. I glanced at the front door. Josh was strong—I wasn’t denying that—but surely we weren’t at the point where my best friend had to carry me over the threshold?
He grinned, and I really should learn how to not telegraph my every thought, for fuck’s sake.
“You sure?” He waggled his eyebrows and I laughed.
“Stop or I’ll hit you with my crutches when we get out.”
“Like you could catch me on those things. You’re slower than my grandma.” He got out of the car.
“Hey, she’s sprightly for her age.” His laughter cut off as he closed the van door. I sat there and sighed, resigned to my fate. An awkward walk across gravel it was.
Josh hovered behind me all the way to the door, equal parts terrified I might fall and amused at how slow and steady I took it. But in my defence, I’d only had them for about five days and they were awkward as fuck. I kept wanting to put my bad leg on the ground. And who knew I had such shitty balance?
Josh opened the front door and stepped aside for me to go in first. Setting my crutches carefully in place, I swung inside over the doorjamb and into the hall. A fine layer of dust covered everything, the walls in the hallway had been stripped back ready for decorating, and the floor looked in need of a bit of TLC, but I could already see the potential.
I turned to smile at him and he grinned back.
“It’s going to look amazing when we’re done.”
“It is.” I hopped over to the bottom of the stairs and peered up. They were a bit steeper than the ones in my dad’s relatively new build back home, but then didn’t old houses tend to be a bit like that?
Josh’s dad was a couple of years older than my dad, so that put him around fifty-five. Was his uncle older? Younger? I had no idea. “What’s your uncle’s name again?”
“Gareth.”
“And how old is he?” I asked, pointing a crutch at the staircase. “Because if this is his retirement home, then those stairs might be an issue in a few years.”
Josh opened his mouth, but before he could answer, an amused voice sounded from behind me.
“Hopefully I’ve got more than a few years left in me before I have to retire.”
I spun around, lost my balance, and almost took a header into the wall. A pair of strong hands caught me at the last second.
“We need to stop meeting like this.”
Familiar blue-grey eyes greeted me when I looked up. “You.”
He grinned. “Me.”
What the fuck was coffee Gareth doing in Josh’s uncle’s hallway? Got to say, whatever reason he had for being here, old jeans, a tight T-shirt and dirty work boots really worked for him. I licked my lips, gaze stuck on the days’ old stubble coating his jaw. Yep, just as hot as I remembered.
“You two know each other?” Josh asked, brow furrowed in confusion, and my mind suddenly decided to catch up.
Oh.
Coffee Gareth was also Uncle Gareth.
Arse.
Twelve Days of Squidmas by KL Hiers
CHAPTER 1
Jack Marsh waved farewell as the man walked out with the final piece of his grandmother’s hospital bed. He could see the indentations in the carpet where it had sat for so long, and he wondered how much time would pass before they faded. It had taken the medical supply company two weeks to come pick the bed up, and seeing the empty spot in the living room where it had resided drove home the reality that she was gone.
Some great fucking Christmas this was going to be.
Losing his grandmother aside, Jack had never been a big fan of the holidays. He was a proverbial Grinch, loathing every form of jolly cheer and festive revelry. He had his reasons, many of them in fact, though he opted not to share them. He rarely spoke of how much he hated Christmas because no one could simply accept his opinion without a detailed interrogation.
They’d want to know why.
How can any sane person dislike such a lovely time of year? What’s not to love about Christmas? Why are you so weird?
Ugh.
When Jack had first moved in with his grandmother and told her he didn’t like it, she’d just shrugged and asked if he would still help her make cookies.
And that was the end of the conversation.
No needling for information, no strange stares, no arguments to convince him of how wrong he was…
It was nice.
He really missed her.
Jack locked the front door, headed to the couch, and sat down.
The bed had been the last of the medical equipment that needed to be picked up, and Jack had already donated the unused diapers and pads. The hospice nurses had disposed of the leftover medicine, and some of the neighbors had brought him some casseroles to help hold him over. Most of them were still in the freezer because he hadn’t felt like eating.
He’d quit his job months ago to stay at home and take care of his grandmother. He didn’t have any friends, he didn’t go on dates, and he had only left the house to pick up meds or buy groceries. His very reason for getting up in the morning had left him, and he was alone.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Jack had access to the money from his grandmother’s accounts, but he didn’t want to touch it. He had enough saved up on his own to keep him afloat for a little while, but he knew it wouldn’t last forever. He had to start looking for a new job as soon as possible. He had to do something, anything, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to get up.
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there staring at the carpet before his phone rang, pulling him out of his fog.
Great.
It was his younger sister, Linda.
Jack sighed, answering the call and saying shortly, “What do you want?”
“Wow!” Linda laughed. “Nice to see you’re still a jerk.”
Jack resisted the urge to hang up. “What is it?”
“Well, Christmas is in, like, two weeks. Wanted to see when you want us to come over.”
“Excuse me?”
“We always do Christmas at Grandma’s house,” Linda said as if it was obvious.
“She’s dead,” Jack said flatly.
“Yeah, but the house is still there, isn’t it? We all know she left it to you because you were her favorite or whatever, and it’s the only place big enough for everybody to come over.”
Jack gritted his teeth. “I was the favorite because I’m the only one who stuck around when she got sick. The rest of you assholes left—”
“I totally visited!” Linda argued. “It’s not my fault I have to work and take care of my kids!”
“The last time you came over was six months ago to ask Grandma if you could have her TV when she died,” Jack accused. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you! Stop being so selfish. You know we can’t host Christmas at my tiny apartment, and Mom doesn’t feel like cooking this year. Plus, their house isn’t big enough either.”
“So, wait, who’s cooking then?”
“We figured you since you’ll be hosting instead of Grandma.”
“I’m not hosting anything,” Jack replied firmly. “Good luck with your stupid Christmas, but you’re not having it here and I’m sure as fuck not cooking.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” Linda sighed. “I guess I can help you cook. I mean, we want to be able to eat.”
“You can eat your stupid food at your own damn place.” Jack squeezed the phone. “Grandma is gone. Do you get that? I don’t feel like having a big dumb family thing right now.”
“But her house is fine, right? I mean, you haven’t trashed it or anything, have you?”
“Would that keep you assholes away if I did?”
“Shush, that’s not funny. We’ll be over Christmas Eve. Probably around four, but I might be earlier to help you cook.”
“We’re not doing Christmas here,” Jack snapped. “Do you even hear anything I’m saying? I’m not celebrating it. I’m not having anyone over. I just wanna be left alone.”
Linda laughed. “God, you’re so weird. Go ahead and start looking for Grandma’s recipes. You know Mom is gonna want some of her Moravian cookies. Oh, and look for that cake recipe. The one with the—”
Jack hung up, his rage bubbling over and nearly causing him to hurl his phone at the wall.
With the exception of his grandmother, he utterly loathed his family. She was the only one who had been there for him when the rest of them turned their backs on him, and she’d opened up her home to him.
This house was the only place he’d ever felt loved, and he did not want his family to come here. He could already imagine them sweeping in like a flock of vultures, picking the house clean of his grandmother’s belongings and taking whatever they could for themselves.
That’s what they did—they just took and took until there was nothing left.
When they’d visited in the past for the holidays, Jack would hide in his room to avoid them. But now they were expecting him to host? And to make cookies for them?
No fucking way.
A small pang of guilt crept up his spine because he knew his grandmother probably wouldn’t like that. She’d like it even less if he told them all to fuck off and never speak to him again. Yes, they were awful, but they were still family. Hosting Christmas had been one of his grandmother’s favorite events every year, and he thought it would be a shame to let such a beloved tradition die with her.
Jack sighed.
If he was going to do this, he’d be doing it for his grandmother and to honor her memory.
Not for the gaggle of selfish jackasses he had the misfortune of being related to.
He trudged into the kitchen to find his grandmother’s recipe box.
It was small and wooden with a hinged lid. He used to think it looked like a treasure chest when he was younger, and there was indeed something valuable inside. It was his grandmother’s recipe cards, a collection of awesome concoctions and perfected guides from her many decades of cooking.
Jack wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d enjoyed being his grandmother’s assistant. He knew his way around the kitchen, but making one of his grandmother’s recipes on his own was daunting.
Especially her Moravian spice cookies.
They were thin, crispy cookies that exploded with a unique spicy flavor, instantly addictive and impossible to eat just one of. He’d helped her make them last year, but his main job was rolling out the dough because the arthritis in her hands had gotten too bad to do it herself.
He found the recipe card, checked the cabinets, and discovered that he had all of the ingredients to make them.
Might as well make a test batch.
He could enjoy them all by himself and eat some of his miserable feelings.
First, he heated up molasses, brown sugar, and shortening with ginger, cinnamon, and cloves in a big saucepan. Once it had all melted together, he added in baking soda. He was alarmed when the mixture looked foamy, and he couldn’t recall if it was supposed to do that or not.
Hopefully.
Jack removed the pan from the heat and then poured the mixture into a big mixing bowl. He checked his grandmother’s recipe card, noting he was supposed to wait for it to cool before adding the flour.
Whatever.
Jack went ahead and dumped in the flour, smiling at the familiar look of the dark brown dough. Waiting for it to cool probably wasn’t that important.
The recipe card directed him to wrap up the dough and refrigerate overnight, but he wasn’t going to do that either. He wanted his damn cookies, and he didn’t recall having to do that before.
Jack sprinkled flour across the counter for rolling out the dough. The one thing he did know was that he had to roll it out paper thin because the cookies would puff up in the oven. To make sure they were thin and crispy after baking, they had to be like wafers going in. His eyes stung as he sprinkled more flour across the counter, remembering his grandmother’s gnarled fingers guiding his own.
He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He kept rolling and rolling, and it was a struggle because the dough was weirdly sticky. He figured maybe waiting overnight or any of the other steps he’d skipped may have been more important than he first realized, but it was too late now.
Screaming at the dough didn’t help it roll out any smoother, but it did make him feel a little better.
His grief was a river gushing right through his chest, and he hated feeling so helpless and sad. He missed his grandmother terribly, and he wanted her here beside him to tell him what he’d messed up. She always knew how to fix things.
All Jack seemed to do was break them.
He tried to focus on his anger because that made him feel stronger, but it did little good to help him win his battle against the gelatinous dough. It was far from paper thin, but he decided it was good enough. He really wanted those damn cookies. Now he had to find the cookie cutter.
Wait, or was it a press of some kind?
Moravian cookies were circular with a distinct scalloped edge.
No, that wasn’t right. They were shaped like snowflakes with elaborate patterns…
Or was that a pizzelle?
Frustrated and wanting this baking nightmare to be over already so he could gorge as soon as possible, he quickly searched the drawers. When he didn’t find anything he could use there, he went through the cabinets. Above the fridge he found a small circular cookie press.
Maybe.
It was metal, fairly light, and plain on one side with an ornate swirling design on the other that reminded Jack of a snowflake.
If it wasn’t for cookies, then he had no idea what it was for. He tried pressing it into the rolled out dough, and he grinned when it indeed made a very pretty design and cut out a round cookie.
Perfect.
This was going to work. He could make lots of cookies, refine the process, and later when he made them for his horrible family, maybe someone would choke on one.
He cut out as many as he could and then delicately laid them out on a baking sheet. He fought with the dough once more to roll it out again and cut more cookies. His hands were now greasy and sticky, and he fumbled with the cookie press when he tried to pick it up to make the next cut.
Which ended up being right along the side of his thumb.
“Fuck!” Jack dropped the cookie press and sucked his bleeding thumb into his mouth. He pulled it out to check the damage, and he grimaced as the deep laceration immediately dripped blood onto the counter, the cookie press, and the floor. “Fuck.”
He hurried to the sink to rinse off the wound and scrambled for a dish towel. It stung like hell, and he continued to curse loudly. So enthralled in nursing his wound and trying to staunch the bleeding with the towel, he didn’t think much of the floor creaking behind him.
He’d probably knocked something off the counter in his haste to get to the sink.
Something big…
Something heavy enough to make the floorboards squeak.
“Oh, that looks nasty,” a deep baritone rumbled from behind Jack. “Might even need a stitch.”
Jack whirled around, finding himself face to face with…
Well.
Something.
It was a giant black beast with a large head, a broad torso, and powerful arms. It had two rows of milky eyes on the sides of its face, a pair of twisted black horns, and tentacles. Long, writhing tentacles that burst forth from the end of its broad snout, with more crowning its head around the horns in a wild mane. As it moved, the tentacles undulated and glittered, revealing that the beast was in fact an iridescent shade of green that shifted between ebony and emerald.
It glided forward on a massive bundle of tentacles that looked as if someone had shoved a thousand octopuses together, and Jack stared as the tentacles split in two groups and then twisted together to take on the form of two legs so the beast could stand even taller and tower over him. It smelled distinctly of salt and citrus, and it growled, a rumbling purr that rattled the windows.
Jack laughed.
He didn’t know why, but nervous laughter came bubbling right out and he couldn’t make it stop.
There was a monstrous beast standing in his grandmother’s kitchen, and the only thing his brain could do right now was queue up an endless laugh track.
The beast scoffed and planted its hands on its hips as if deeply offended.
Jack cleared his throat and coughed to finally make himself stop, but he still couldn’t get the insane smile off his face. It had to be a broken survival response, and he had no idea how to get it under control. “Uh, I’m so sorry. You just… You’re there.”
“Yes, I am here,” the beast grumbled. “How very observant of you.”
Jack tried to force his other primal instincts to kick into gear.
He needed a plan, a weapon—something.
“I am Xorvash’uhn’bizoth of the Ninth Kingdom, Ruler of the Second Gate,” the beast said. “That’s Xorvash with an X, not a Z, thank you.”
Jack hiccuped out another giggle.
“You may call me Xorvash if you’d like. My experience with fleshy types is that you tend to lack the higher functions required to pronounce our ancient names. My pronouns are he, him, but I’m also comfortable with they or—”
“Wait.” Jack blinked. “Did you just call me stupid?”
“Oh!” Xorvash waved his hands. “Someone was top of their class, weren’t they?”
“Fuck you!” Jack’s terror gave way to rage, and he grabbed the nearest weapon.
Yes, it was a rolling pin.
But it was better than nothing.
He pointed it at Xorvash as he barked, “Get the fuck out of here before I kick your slimy ass all the way back to whatever fucking gate you crawled out of!”
Xorvash rolled all of his eyes. “Listen, my precious little meat cake, I’m only here because you summoned me. Only you have the power to send me back.”
“Fine!” Jack waved the rolling pin. “Go on! Get!”
Xorvash snorted. “Did you really think that would work? Telling me to get?”
“I don’t even know how the fuck I summoned you! How would I fucking know how to make you leave?”
“Oh, you’re making my head hurt.” Xorvash groaned loudly. “Where is Sandy?”
“Sandy?” Jack froze.
No…
It couldn’t be.
“Sandy?” Jack said it again. “Sandy as in Sandra Craft?”
“Yes, Sandy.” Xorvash grunted. “Smallish meat sack with curly white hair, flesh like old spell paper, and eyes that shine with the wisdom of seeing a thousand worlds fall.”
“Sandra Elizabeth Craft?”
“She always told me her middle name was Danger, but she might be lying. She’s very crafty. Much like her surname would suggest.”
Jack lowered the rolling pin, and his shoulders sagged as grief hollowed his chest.
Xorvash narrowed his eyes. “Where is she?”
“She’s dead,” Jack said quietly.
“What?” Xorvash scoffed.
“She died. Two weeks ago. Two weeks and a day to be precise.” Jack slumped against the counter and stared at the floor. “She’s my grandmother. Was my grandmother. And now she’s gone.”
Xorvash growled low, and he grabbed Jack’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Tell me who did this so I may have my revenge. I will tear their souls asunder and turn the fragments into kibble for the space beasts.”
Jack’s heart thumped, and he was surprised by how pleasant he found Xorvash’s firm touch. He swallowed thickly. “I appreciate the thought, but it was cancer. Can’t really get revenge against cancer.”
“I am Xorvash’uhn’bizoth of the Ninth Kingdom, Ruler of the Second Gate, and I can do anything.”
Jack sighed and pulled away, mumbling, “Well, good luck. Because she’s dead. I’m just trying to make her cookies for my stupid ass fucking family, I have to somehow make Christmas happen all by my fucking self, and ha, now I’m talking to you. Whatever the hell you are.”
“Ruler of the Second Gate.”
“Right. Got it. And how the hell did you know my grandmother exactly? Because I’ve lived with her for years and she failed to mention her good friend the tentacle monster.”
“She purchased an interdimensional summoning pass at her church’s silent auction.”
“Oh. Did she think it was for cookies too?”
“No.” Xorvash scoffed disgustedly. “She knew exactly what it was and offered her blood to summon me to do battle against her enemies.”
“What enemies?”
“The aphids plaguing her roses.”
Jack actually laughed. “She summoned a giant tentacle guy to get rid of aphids?”
“I’ll have you know, precious little meat cake, that it was a very serious infestation.”
“And what? You guys just hit it off? Traded knitting patterns or something?”
“We traded stories of battle and glory. Sandy was a fierce warrior and one of the most courageous creatures I’ve ever met on any plane of existence.” Xorvash’s tentacles around his snout curled up as he smiled. “She was my very best friend in the entire multiverse. She was also a fabulous cook.”
“Best friend, huh?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
“I’m her grandson, asshole. Jack.”
“Never heard of you, Asshole Jack.”
“No, it’s just Jack. And okay, well.” Jack had no idea what else to say to that. “I guess you can go now, Mr. Xorvash with an X. Sorry you had to hear about her passing like this, but I still got cookies to bake, a life to sort out, and all kinds of shit. The very last thing I need is—”
“Where are her remains?”
“What?”
“Her body,” Xorvash clarified. “I refuse to believe she’s dead.”
“But I just told you…” Jack rubbed his hands over his face. “Look, she was buried, okay? At a family cemetery—”
“Well, that simply will not do.”
“Excuse me?”
Xorvash advanced, his tentacles swirling forward and boxing Jack in against the counter. “I would like to make a bargain with you, little meat cake. Although my power is great, I am limited by the constraints of this puny dimension. Trying to use the full depth of my enormous strength might cause your planet to implode.”
“Uh, uh, okay?” Jack leaned as far back as he could to avoid touching Xorvash, and he tried to ignore how fast his pulse was pounding. “What kind of bargain exactly?”
“Tell me what you desire,” Xorvash purred, the rumble of his voice vibrating the very air as he leaned in close.
Jack couldn’t retreat any farther or he’d end up in the sink, and he gulped. “I…”
“Yes, my sweet meat cake?”
Jack couldn’t think of a damn thing.
No, that was wrong.
He thought of too many things—to be happy, to fall in love, to feel wanted, to wake up every day without that miserable ache in his stomach or the whisper in his ear that he was going to be alone forever because he was broken.
Jack was lost in the glowing depths of Xorvash’s eyes, and he replied, “I don’t know.”
“You mentioned needing assistance with some kind of impending holiday ritual? Kiss-mas?”
“Christmas.”
“Bless you.
“Yeah.” Jack frowned. “My family is coming over. Grandma Sandy isn’t here, and those ass muppets are expecting me to cook and do all this bullshit by myself. I was gonna tell them to fuck off, but…” He sighed. “I know she wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“Then I will help you prepare for the ritual.” Xorvash nodded.
“Okay. In exchange for what?”
Xorvash hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“You said this was a bargain.” Jack crossed his arms, eyeing Xorvash suspiciously. “You help me with Christmas in exchange for what? What is it that you want in return?”
“Do I have to want something?” Xorvash batted his eyes.
“I’m not fucking stupid. I’m not agreeing to anything with you until I hear your terms.”
“Hmm. Perhaps your intellectual functions are a tad higher than I anticipated.”
Jack snorted. “Thanks. You’re so sweet.”
“If you must know, I will require your assistance gathering the materials for a ritual of my own.”
Jack waited.
Xorvash did not elaborate.
“Ahem.” Jack cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
Jack gestured expectantly.
“Ah, yes.” Xorvash looked over Jack and then said, “Your eyes are a lovely shade of blue, reminiscent of the grand Garthaxian Nebula. Your meaty skin is very smooth except where it is not around your head bits, and I imagine it’s very pleasant to lick.”
“Excuse me?”
“I thought you wanted a compliment? My understanding is that males of your kind tend to be very vain and need constant reassurances.” Xorvash shrugged. “That’s what Sandy told me anyway.”
“No!” Jack groaned. “The ritual! What kind of ritual do you need help with? Is it gonna be something that destroys the world or turns me into a frog?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Xorvash turned toward the counter, his hands and tentacles cleaning up the blood and simultaneously cutting out the remaining cookies to lay out on the baking sheet.
Jack eyeballed him, asking, “So, can you elaborate? And hey! What are you doing with my cookies?”
“The merciful thing to do would be to throw them in the trash.”
“Fuck off.”
“If you must know, I am very angry that Sandy died. I had not seen her in many years, and I regret that I did not have a chance to say goodbye.” Xorvash expertly kneaded the dough and rolled it back out to perfect paper thinness with his tentacles. “I am going to bring her back.”
Jack frowned. “Bring her back? Like… Frankenstein?”
“Nothing quite so crude, but yes. A resurrection.”
Jack snorted out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, fucking right. You’re going to bring her back from the dead.”
“Yes.” Xorvash glanced back at Jack. “But I’ll need your help gathering the ingredients for the ritual.”
“So, you’re going to help me get ready for Christmas and you’re going to bring my Grandma Sandy back to life?” Jack wondered if he’d slipped in the blood on the floor and hit his head, and all of this was some kind of demented coma dream. “That sounds way too good to be fucking true.”
“I’m not bringing Sandy back for you.” Xorvash grunted as he carried the cookies over to the oven. “As soon as she is restored, she’s coming back with me to the Second Gate.”
Jack scowled. “What?”
“Why would I leave her here with you? Clearly, you did a terrible job taking care of her. You let her be attacked by the cancer.”
“She got cancer because of shit genetics and she smoked a pipe for fifty years,” Jack drawled. “I didn’t let anything happen to her, thank you. For the record, I’m the fucking one who took care of her when she got sick. Just me, okay? Nobody else gave enough of a shit to help me, including your scary ass by the way.”
“Pardon?”
“Mr. All Powerful Tentacle Guy, yeah, you! Where the fuck were you when she needed help? Assaulting schoolgirls with your fucking tentacles?”
Xorvash gasped. “That is a hateful stereotype!”
“Fuck you!” Jack bowed up, and he shoved Xorvash’s shoulder as his anger boiled over. “You just show up here because I got blood on your stupid cookie cutter and start making bullshit promises that you’re gonna bring her back? I loved her! Do you hear me? I fucking loved her! I gave up my job, everything, to take care of her! And I will be fucking damned if you think you’re gonna promise to bring her back just to threaten that you’re gonna take her away from me again!”
“You’re very attractive when your face turns that lovely red color.”
“I don’t need any fucking more compliments.” Jack growled. “I’m not making any deals with you unless you promise not to take Sandy! Fuck, I don’t even believe you can actually do it, but I’m not risking shit.”
“You’re ridiculously pigheaded.”
“That was definitely not a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” Xorvash glared. “All right, little meat cake. Here are the terms of our bargain. I will assist you in conducting a successful holiday ritual and you will help me gather what I need to resurrect Sandy.”
“Fine. Deal—”
“Ah ah.” Xorvash held up a finger. “After the successful conclusion of which, we will let Sandy decide with whom she wants to stay. With her bestest, most beloved friend in all of the entire universe and beyond who absolutely adores her and would never make such a mess of her kitchen or… you.” He held out his hand. “Agreed?”
Jack grabbed Xorvash’s hand. “Like she’s gonna pick you, you fucking hentai reject.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of your numerous culinary failures.”
“You’re a dick.”
“You have lovely eyelashes.”
Jack sighed.
On the very long list of the many insane things he’d seen and done in his life, this was definitely at the tippy top. His grandmother apparently had a secret tentacle monster friend who was promising to help save Christmas and even bring her back to life. Jack wasn’t sure what might be involved with Xorvash’s ritual to make that happen, and he didn’t know if he even believed it was possible.
Then again, he hadn’t thought tentacle monsters were a thing and there was one right here bitching that he didn’t roll out the cookie dough thin enough.
Fuck it.
What did he have to lose?
Winter's Heart by Leta Blake
CHAPTER ONE
“Once upon a time, during the deep, dark months of the year, wolf-god’s small brother, known as winter-fox, grew bored. The world was silent and blanketed in snow. No birds sang. No bears roamed—”
“Bears, Father?” Tristan asked from his perch on Janus’s knee. His big, blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and he held his thumb out wetly, where he’d pulled it from his plump lips to ask. “What about the wildcats?”
Kerry, listening from the soft chair next to the sofa where his alpha and son sat, lifted a brow at his Érosgápe mate and waited to see how Janus would answer. His knitting needles clacked along, making a long row of stitches that would turn soon into another row, and another, until he’d finished a blanket for Tristan’s new bed.
Janus held the leather book open and blinked at the illustration. “I don’t see any wildcats in this drawing.”
Tristan sighed and squirmed a little. He had a fascination with the wildcats that roamed their mountains ever since his close call with one the summer before. “But why not, Father? The wildcats don’t sleep in winter. They like to wrestle. I’ve seen them. Why didn’t winter-fox play with them if he was bored?”
Janus met Kerry’s gaze, clearly nonplussed, and said, “Well, maybe he tried. Maybe the cats didn’t like him.”
“Why?”
Kerry chuckled. “Let your father finish the story. It’s nearly bedtime.”
The reminder of bedtime made Tristan frown, but he was insistent, “But why didn’t the cats like winter-fox, Pater? He’s a jolly friend. He decorates the trees. He plays the winter bells so they echo in the hills. He gives wonderful presents.” Tristan’s wet thumb slashed through the air with each point. “I think they should like him.”
“Well, it’s a good thing they didn’t,” Kerry said, “or winter-fox would never have been bored enough to dream up the Feast of Winter’s Heart.”
“We don’t eat winter-fox’s heart, do we?” Tristan asked in a whisper, leaning forward toward Kerry like he might climb out of his father’s lap and over to his pater for comfort. “I don’t want to eat his heart, Pater!”
“Of course not!” Janus reassured him, tugging him back firmly and kissing the top of his head. “The heart is figurative.”
“Fig-tive?”
“It just means that the Feast takes place in the heart of winter,” Kerry said, his own heart tugging with Tristan’s earnest goodness.
Tristan was so sweet with animals and so soft with other children. It warmed Kerry to the core to see him with Janus’s patients’ infants. Tristan was incredibly gentle when he touched them, pressing sweet kisses to their heads and cheeks. Not a trace of cruel Monhundy blood showing through. “Winter-fox’s heart is safe.”
“’Less he meets his Érosgápe,” Tristan said solemnly. “Then his heart is lost for good. That’s right, isn’t it? That’s what the stories say.” He put a hand over his own chest. “I don’t want to lose my heart.”
Kerry snorted. He’d often wondered if his own pater sometimes read to Tristan from the romance novels he liked so well, and now he had his answer. “Érosgápe don’t lose their heart. Put your hand on your father’s chest. You’ll feel his beating there, and you’ve heard mine when you rest your head on me.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes and put his hand on Janus’s chest. Then he shrugged. “What if it’s your heart in there? What if you traded? I traded my peach for Adin’s apple once. What if it’s like that?”
Janus sighed and put aside the story.
Kerry smiled.
Tristan had heard it several times before, but never with so many questions. Well, that wasn’t true. In the past, the questions had been about the holiday—“Is it true winter-fox will bring me gifts while I sleep?”—and not about wildcats and traveling hearts.
Janus said, “Érosgápe—like your pater and I—share a love like no other, but we didn’t swap hearts, and if you find your Érosgápe, your heart will stay in your chest, too. I promise.”
Kerry wondered if that was a lie. Sometimes it felt as if his heart was cleaved in half and walked around outside his body in the shape of Janus and Tristan, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. His sweet boy was already confused enough.
“Bedtime,” Janus said. “Winter-fox must come tonight, and you have to be well-asleep, or he’ll pass us by.”
Tristan’s eyes widened, and he nodded solemnly. “I’ll sleep. I promise. I’ll sleep good.”
After Tristan had kissed Kerry goodnight and Janus had taken Tristan up to bed, Kerry shifted over to the sofa before returning to his knitting. The room was warm against the falling snow out the window, the fire twinkling merrily in the grate, and he stretched his socked feet out beneath a blanket, continuing his work as he listened to the clomp of Janus’s footsteps above, and the little sounds of Tristan getting ready for sleep.
Peace had settled deep into his heart by the time Janus returned, a wry grin on his face and a sweetness in his eye. “That boy has more questions for me than any of my teachers ever had.”
“He’s smart.”
Janus lifted Kerry’s feet and sat down on the sofa, lowering them back down and into his lap. He rubbed the arches gently, and Kerry moaned with gratitude. “He’s like his pater.”
Kerry said nothing. Tristan looked more like a Monhundy—built big and strong, with fair skin and hair—but inside, he was different from that family through and through. The relationship was something Kerry still struggled with from time to time when an innocent shift of Tristan’s features would reveal an expression too much like the alpha who made him. But, for the most part, as the years passed and Tristan flourished—good, wholesome, innocent—Kerry’s old, traumatic associations faded, replaced by new, fiercely loving feelings.
Janus lifted Kerry’s right foot and kissed the arch. “He’s going to be very excited tomorrow morning.”
“I hope so.”
“It’s his first Feast of Winter’s Heart. Of course he’ll be excited.”
Kerry smiled. “It’s been so many years since we celebrated Winter’s Heart here. I was twelve when Pater gave it up.”
“Well, surely you knew by then that winter-fox was just a story?”
“Of course.” Kerry finished another row and began a fresh one. “I was proud that Pater thought I was old enough for the truth. I felt very mature. But now it seems a shame that it’s only a holiday for children. There’s so much fun in it.”
“Presents, and decorations, and the winter bells…”
“I think the bells are his favorite part so far,” Kerry said.
During the week leading up to the Feast of Winter’s Heart, every night, after the sun fell, the mountains came alive with the sound of bells. This was the first year in ages that Monk House had participated by ringing bells of their own. In the past, they’d simply sat back and listened to the bells rising all around them, a sound of joy in the dark, announcing that winter-fox was on his way. The children of the mountains grew more excited with each passing evening, making it nearly impossible to settle them in bed once the bells stopped ringing the final evening.
“What was the feast like for you, growing up in the city?” Kerry asked.
“Ah, well, surely you heard the bells when you lived there.”
Kerry’s needles slipped, and he focused hard to get the yarn back on track. He didn’t like to think of his years living with Wilbet or his former alpha’s parents, but, yes, he’d heard the bells. “Of course. The neighbors rang them for their children, and the churches, and the priests walked the streets with their little bells.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But tell me what you liked best.”
“There was a plum pie that our head cook baked, and it was absolutely divine. The meal was nothing compared to the Autumn Nights feasts, of course, but I liked it better because there were so many more sweets on offer to lure in winter-fox. Though I remember not understanding why we still needed to lure him when he’d already come and left the gifts behind. I suppose I still don’t understand that part.” Janus smiled, his eyes going soft with memories, but then they cleared. “To tell you the truth, though, I like the mountain version better. The homecooked meals made to serve at a small table, just for family. The way the bells spill around the mountains and bounce off the lake. It feels so homey and right. Like magic.”
“But in the city, it’s magic, too,” Kerry offered. “Even if it’s more evident that it’s people doing the ringing, and the feast is shared more widely with guests and friends being invited.”
“Yes, there’s a certain sense of community in it. But nothing like here in the mountains, when you can practically feel the families delighting in their children’s joy. In the city, there was an element of showing off for your guests—look at the wonderful toys we bought our children, look at the feast we can give.”
“Amongst the wealthy, maybe, but in the Calitan district, things must surely be different.”
Janus smiled. “Yes. I suppose.”
“What was your favorite part of the holiday growing up?”
“Like any child, my favorite part was the presents. Winter-fox had very extravagant taste in my family.”
Kerry smiled. “I can imagine.”
“I’m glad our Tristan will have more manageable expectations. He’ll love the wagon your pater built for him and the new boots I got in the city. Though wolf-god knows I’ll have to make another trip to town in just a few months, at the rate he’s growing.”
Kerry nodded. “And Caleb sent those fluffy toy wildcats. We should have returned them. He sends us too much.”
Janus waved his hand at that. “Caleb has more than enough, and he enjoys spreading the joy. He cares for us and loves Tristan. Let him spoil us a little bit. It isn’t going to hurt anyone.”
“If we aren’t careful, Tristan will think Caleb is winter-fox.”
“Ah.”
Kerry’s cheeks felt hot. He wasn’t going to look up from his knitting now. His prior jealousy of Caleb’s former place in Janus’s heart had resolved. He would not admit that some of that had transferred to jealousy with regards to Tristan’s regard for the man.
It was just that Tristan’s enthusiasm when his Uncle Caleb visited, always bringing along one or two “cousins,” was unparalleled and met with much less skepticism than he was currently greeting the Feast of Winter’s Heart. Kerry wished his own love for his son wasn’t always touched in bitterness.
“Tristan will always love you best.”
Kerry shrugged, embarrassed that Janus, as always, saw right through him.
“I love you best,” Janus said.
“Like you have a choice,” Kerry teased.
“I chose you,” Janus insisted. “Before we knew what we were to each other, before we understood we were Érosgápe, I chose you.”
Kerry put his knitting aside and shifted on the sofa until his head rested where his feet had been, pillowed on Janus’s lap. He closed his eyes as Janus slipped his fingers through Kerry’s long hair and trailed slow, tantalizing circles over his forehead and temples. Kerry practically purred.
“Say you chose me,” Janus whispered.
“My heart’s only ever belonged to you,” Kerry said.
“Be careful. Tristan will think I stole it.”
Kerry shrugged. “Maybe you did. As you said, he’s smart.”
Janus bent low and kissed Kerry, and time slipped away until they broke apart, naked, spent, and panting on the floor by the couch, the chiming clock reminding them of their duties. After washing off in the downstairs bath usually reserved for guests and arranging their clothes again, they returned to the living room and set out the gifts.
Kerry carefully placed the fluffy toy wildcats in the wagon. They looked happy waiting there for Tristan to discover them in the morning.
Single Bells by Anna Martin
“Single bells, single bells,” Joel sang, off key, as he put one foot in front of the other and tried very, very hard not to fall over. “Single all the way.”
The snow storm had swept in furiously since he’d left the house earlier that morning; now the fat flakes were being dumped on the ground with increasing ferocity. And all he was wearing was jeans and a dumb Christmas jumper. No coat.
Stupid office Christmas parties.
Stupid snow.
Stupid Milly who suggested tequila shots to warm them up while they were huddled outside, fingertips going numb while sharing a cigarette outside on Grassmarket. Joel liked Milly, a lot, but she had terrible ideas when it came to alcohol.
Especially when they both had to go to work in the morning.
“Oh what fun, it is to ride on a….” He giggled to himself, thinking about all the things he’d actually like to take a ride on. “On a—oh fuck.”
Joel wasn’t entirely sure what happened. One minute he was edging very slowly down the very steep hill; the next he was on his arse, skidding to an inelegant stop.
Stupid shiny dress shoes that had no grip on the soles.
“Are you okay?”
Oh great. Even better. Someone had actually witnessed that.
Joel got to his feet—slowly, keeping both hands and both feet planted until he was sure of his balance—and brushed his palms on his knees. He’d scraped his hands badly enough to make them bleed. Fortunately, all the alcohol in his system was stopping it from hurting too much.
He looked around for the person who’d called out. And almost goggled at the sight.
The man was standing in the doorway of one of the cottages, wearing joggers, slippers, and a dressing gown that was open enough to show off a toned chest with a smattering of dark hair. Joel forced his eyes upwards. He was wearing glasses, too.
“Single bells,” he croaked again, mostly to himself.
“Hey.” Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome stepped off the front step and into his garden. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Joel put both thumbs up and thrust them at his handsome stranger. “I’m great. Thanks.”
“Where are you going?”
He pointed down the hill. Way, way down the hill. “Church Street.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’ll never make it in one piece. Come in.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose.”
“It’s freezing. Come in, please.”
“If you insist,” Joel murmured under his breath. He took very careful steps over to the charming front gate, not wanting to fall over again.
It really was cold outside, but the cottage was cosy and warm, with the embers of a wood fire dying in the grate. A sleek grey cat was curled on a rug in front of it, her face tucked under one paw.
“Here, sit down.”
“I don’t want to get your sofa all wet.”
“It’s fine.”
Joel blinked the snow out of his eyes and tried to focus again. Focus, Joel.
“Why are you awake, anyway? Isn’t it the middle of the night?”
“I’m on call tonight. I usually try and stay semi-awake, just in case someone needs me.” He flashed Joel a brilliant smile. “Looks like someone needed me, even if you aren’t my usual patient.”
“You’re the new vet,” Joel said as his brain woke up.
“That’s me. Nicholas McLeish.”
“Jolly old Saint—”
“Shhh,” he said with a laugh. “Please don’t. Though I do usually go by Nick with friends. I’m only Nicholas when I’m in trouble.”
“I’m Joel. Brodie. Joel Brodie.” That was definitely his name.
“Hello, Joel. Want me to take a look at your hands?”
Joel turned them over and stared for a moment at the red dots that were slowly blooming. He presented them for Nick to look at.
“Sit down,” Nick said. “I’ll be right back.”
Joel perched on the edge of the sofa, his hands palms-up on his knees. While he watched, the cat rolled over in an elegant stretch, spreading her claws and yawning widely, then curled back up again.
“That’s Bastet,” Nick said from the doorway, making Joel jump.
“Like the goddess?”
“Mhmm.” He seemed pleased with Joel’s answer. “This might sting a little.”
He cradled Joel’s hand in his own and quickly swiped an antiseptic wipe over the scrapes, cleaning away the dirt and grit. Joel stared at him, unable to come up with anything sensible to say. Nick had a long nose, strong eyebrows, and cheeks that were flushed pink from the cold. Joel thought that even if he wasn’t drunk, he’d find Nick exceptionally nice to look at.
Nick picked up a tube of cream that smelled faintly medicinal and gently massaged it into Joel’s hands with his fingertips. Joel’s hands had turned very warm, very quickly.
“There,” Nick said as he finished up. “All done.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you cold?”
Joel considered that. “Not really. I have had a lot to drink.”
Nick smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I got that impression, yeah. Do you want a cup of tea?”
Joel thought what he would really like was a large glass of Australian red, or a long slurp on whatever Nick was serving.
“Tea would be great. Thank you.”
But he still had his manners.
Charlie CochetCharlie Cochet is the international bestselling author of the THIRDS series. Born in Cuba and raised in the US, Charlie enjoys the best of both worlds, from her daily Cuban latte to her passion for classic rock.
Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found devouring a book, releasing her creativity through art, or binge watching a new TV series. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
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Annabelle Jacobs lives in the South West of England with three rowdy children, and two cats. An avid reader of fantasy herself for many years, Annabelle now spends her days writing her own stories. They're usually either fantasy or paranormal fiction, because she loves building worlds filled with magical creatures, and creating stories full of action and adventure. Her characters may have a tough time of it—fighting enemies and adversity—but they always find love in the end.
K.L. “Kat” Hiers is an embalmer, restorative artist, and queer writer. Licensed in both funeral directing and funeral service, she’s been working in the death industry for nearly a decade. Her first love was always telling stories, and she has been writing for over twenty years, penning her very first book at just eight years old. Publishers generally do not accept manuscripts in Hello Kitty notebooks, however, but she never gave up.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.
Following the success of her first novel, Cold Hard Cash, she now enjoys writing professionally, focusing on spinning tales of sultry passion, exotic worlds, and emotional journeys. She loves attending horror movie conventions and indulging in cosplay of her favorite characters. She lives in Zebulon, NC, with her husband and their children, some of whom have paws and a few that only pretend to because they think it’s cute.
Author of the bestselling book Smoky Mountain Dreams and the fan favorite Training Season, Leta Blake’s educational and professional background is in psychology and finance, respectively. However, her passion has always been for writing. She enjoys crafting romance stories and exploring the psyches of made up people. At home in the Southern U.S., Leta works hard at achieving balance between her day job, her writing, and her family.
Anna MartinAnna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the southwest of England and now lives in the Bristol, a city that embraces her love for the arts. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.
Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theater (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), going to visit friends in other countries, and reading anything thatís put under her nose.
Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, prereading, and creative ass kicking provided by her best friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept responsibility for anything Anna has written.
Charlie Cochet
EMAIL: charlie@charliecochet.com
Annabelle Jacobs
KL Hiers
Leta Blake
Home for the Howlidays by Charlie Cochet
Christmas Spirit by Annabelle Jacobs
Twelve Days of Squidmas by KL Hiers
Winter's Heart by Leta Blake
Single Bells by Anna Martin
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