Summary:
The Kings: A Treemendous Christmas #2
Fitz Harlow has the idyllic life he always dreamed of. With the fashion industry a distant memory, he now revels in the joy of running his own salon. In addition to his flourishing career, Fitz has found the love of his life, Jack, and inherited a colorful family of former Green Berets and their loving partners. And who could forget his adorable poodle princess, Duchess? But life isn't all sprinkles and gingerbread. As Jack becomes consumed by his work, cracks appear in their fairy-tale love story.
When their family is whisked away to the charming town of Winterhaven for the holiday season, Fitz eagerly embraces the festive merriment. Amidst the delightful matchmaking chaos and mischievous antics, can the enchantment of Christmas in Winterhaven work its magic to help Fitz and Jack rediscover the spark that first ignited their love?
As I stated in my review for book 1: Not So Silent Night, I have only read the original Four Kings Security entries in the Four Kings Universe so I was unfamiliar with Jack and Fitz's love story from the first book in The Kings: Wild Card series which was titled, Stacking the Deck. I make note of this because I want to say that I was not lost in any way but I can't lie there were a few tidbits of info referenced that I'm sure would have made a little more sense context-wise but in no way did it lessen my love for the couple in Sleigh it Ain't So.
So as not to ruin not only the fun of this entry but of The Kings: A Treemendous Christmas series as a whole I'm going to keep this short and sweet.
From the big, burly, former soldier members of the Four Kings to the lovingly called Boyfriend Collective who on the surface may seem a bit on the lightweight side of the fierce scale, there is never any doubt what lengths all members of this tightknit group will go to to protect each other. Considering the world they live in and the dangerous chaos that generally brings the pairs together, it's not only enjoyable to see them handle a destination holiday vacation, the zanyness to their chaos is actually highly addictive. Let's face it anytime Ace is involved there is always a tinge of zany but with this series he brings an extra special layer of hilarity but Jack and Fitz have their own unique brand of humor too. Combine all this with the established romance between the MCs, Jack and Fitz, Charlie Cochet has given us a rom-com chock full of both the rom and the com.
Summary:
Mated at the North Pole #2
Alpha reindeer shifter, Dancer, long time member of one of the best Santa sleigh teams, is in need of a vacation–not according to him, but what Santa says goes.
He books a relaxing fall color tour throughout gorgeous Michigan hoping to relax and rejuvenate, even if he doesn’t really feel that he needs to.
Too bad fate has other plans.
Omega reindeer shifter, Milton, long time member of I-hate-Christmas Club, has spent his whole life avoiding members of Santa’s sleigh teams. It was easy, until he booked a vacation and somehow landed in the same cabin as Christmas personified.
Milton doesn’t enjoy the holiday season, and he doesn’t enjoy the pompous, self-importance that radiates from Santa’s reindeer. Being stuck on vacation with one of them is his worst nightmare.
Unless he can open his heart to heal past hurts and Dancer can open his mind to realize the holiday season is hard on a lot of people…
Dancer is the second book in the multi-author M/M Mpreg Christmas romance series Mated at the North Pole, featuring Santa’s reindeer who find their mates while on a mandatory vacation. Dancer features an alpha reindeer with an optimistic view toward the holidays and omega reindeer with no love for the holiday season. There’s Christmas magic, fall colors, a Christmas ornament decorating party—true love, fated mates, an adorable baby, and guaranteed happy ever afters. If you like your shifters hawt, your omegas strong, and your mpreg with heart, download your copy today!
Summary:
Laurel Holidays #5
’Tis the season for a second chance at love.
Stillman King likes his life in the small rural farming community of Rockmount, Pennsylvania. It’s a different pace of life than Philly, but Philadelphia was where his heart was broken, and he was happy to leave. He might be lonely, but he’s settled and has even managed to win over his snooping neighbors. Overall, his days as a small-town sheriff are peaceful with only the occasional traffic accident, drunk and disorderly conduct, or a random meandering cow to deal with. That was until the day the mayor announced that Rockmount was going to be the filming location for a Christmas romance movie starring the popular soap opera star, Tony Gugliotti. The same Tony who’d left him right after college graduation and headed west to the bright lights of Los Angeles without even a goodbye.
Hearing his former lover’s name shatters all the merry bucolic vibes that usually fill Rockmount, at least for Stillman. He’d not seen or spoken to Tony for over twenty years and had no wish to ever again. But, suddenly, here Tony was, looking just as good as he did way back when with his killer smile and movie star jawline. Hollywood descended on Rockmount and Stillman did his best to balance keeping the peace while maintaining a polite distance from his ex. Pity it’s such a small town packed with incredibly meddlesome people. All it takes is one stake out, a night stuck in the courthouse’s basement, and one kiss wound in a lighted pine tree to reignite the passion both men thought they’d left far behind.
The Christmas Extra is a standalone small town, forced proximity, gay second chance Christmas romance with all the glitter of Hollywood, two mature men who never really got over each other, a village packed with holiday cheer as well as inquisitive neighbors, a well-meaning cast and crew, and a tinselly happy-ever-after.
Summary:
Christmas Falls #5
Hoping to give his young daughter, Holly, the joyful childhood he had, Trevor moves back to the one place he’s always considered home—Christmas Falls.
As happy as he is to be back in the festive atmosphere of the small charming town, it’s nothing compared to how excited he is to spend time with his best friend, Trey.
Taking over the family bookstore in the town he grew up in was all Trey had ever wanted. Until Trevor walked back into his life, proving his childhood crush had never completely faded.
And Trevor’s daughter? Well, the adorable girl quickly claims a piece of Trey’s heart.
With the help of a little holiday magic, these two men and one very determined little girl may get exactly what they need—a family.
Christmas Falls is a multi-author M/M romance series set in a small town that thrives on enough holiday charm to rival any Hallmark movie.
Elmwood Stories #3
The hockey has-been, the barista, and some holiday magic…
Court
Cut from the team, fired my agent…now what?
This can’t be it for me. Unfortunately, the phone isn’t ringing. My best bet is to head home for the holidays and regroup.
Problem: I don’t know what to do with myself. Helping out at the rink might be my ticket out of here, but nothing is happening fast enough. And then there’s Ivan. No, no, it’s not what you think. We went to school together. We’re acquaintance-friends…nothing more.
But you know, I like him. A lot. He’s funny and relentlessly upbeat. I’m a better person when I’m with him—the kind who volunteers to deck the halls and wrap garland on lampposts and—
Whoa. What’s happening here?
Ivan
I love the holidays! But running the coffee shop on my own during the busiest season of the year is going to be a challenge. And the sudden appearance of my former crush is all kinds of distracting.
See, I spent my formative years mooning over Court Henderson, our high school’s hockey phenom, even though he was out of my league. Thankfully, I grew up and left the silly remnants of my youth behind. Or did I?
Grown-up Court is full of surprises, and under his gruff yet extremely fine exterior, he’s a good soul with a huge heart. He’s charming, sweet, handsome, and— Uh-oh.
My crush is back. Just in time for the holidays…
Holiday Crush is an MM bisexual, small town romance featuring a renewed ancient crush, some mistletoe latte art, and a little seasonal magic.
Sleigh it Ain't So by Charlie Cochet
Chapter One
“Incoming!”
Fitz yelped and jumped out of the way just as Cocoa bounded by, his human quickly following in a far less adorable manner. Everyone darted out of the way as Ace slid across the kitchen’s polished wood floor, missing Cocoa’s indoor leash by a hair.
“Someone grab him!”
Since Red had a dish of French toast casserole in his oven-mitted hands and Laz carried multiple bowls of fruits and toppings, Fitz hurried to the other side of the counter and scooped up the two-month-old sable German Shepherd puppy.
“Aw, are you giving your daddy a hard time?” Fitz asked, laughing at Cocoa’s little bark before he licked Fitz’s nose. Hearing Cocoa, Duchess—Fitz’s black standard poodle—came prancing into the kitchen and up to Fitz. She wagged her poufy tail and sniffed at Cocoa. “The baby’s okay,” Fitz promised as he petted his bestest girl.
Duchess’s momma instincts had kicked in from the moment she’d met the sweet puppy. When Cocoa was loose, she followed him around to ensure he didn’t get into mischief, which he always did. He was most certainly Ace’s dog.
The jingling bells of “All I Want for Christmas” filled the kitchen, and Fitz danced with Cocoa in his arms. Duchess barked and pranced around them, drawing Chip’s attention. He darted into the kitchen and bounced around like a giant black bunny, his impressive Belgian Malinois ears completing the look. Gio walked in, and Cookie, his Golden Retriever, joined the fun. Good thing the luxury cabin’s kitchen was huge.
“You’re like the Pied Piper of puppies,” Ace said, brushing himself off.
Fitz handed Cocoa to his daddy and turned to dance with Duchess, who jumped onto her hind legs and gave him her front paws. She bounced happily with him as he sang along, his heart filled with joy.
During Fitz’s time in the fashion industry, the holidays had been about fancy parties, drinking too much, and showing off expensive gifts. It wasn’t until he’d become part of this amazing family that he’d understood the holidays were about celebrating with the people he loved who loved him in return just as he was. People who accepted all his sashaying, hair-flipping, and lip-gloss-wearing fabulousness.
There was just one thing missing.
As if conjured by his thoughts, Jack stepped through the kitchen doorway, and Fitz’s heart did a happy dance. His boyfriend’s black hair was tousled from sleep, his jaw sporting a short beard since he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Dressed simply in black jeans and a charcoal gray Henley, he was the sexiest thing Fitz had ever seen. Speaking of eyes…Jack’s smile reached those gorgeous gray eyes, and they were filled with so much love for Fitz.
Duchess darted over to her other daddy, jumping excitedly as if she hadn’t seen Jack in years and not just this morning when they’d left Jack in bed sleeping. Jack gave Duchess lots of love and pets, and Fitz danced his way over, shimmying his shoulders and drawing that sexy, throaty laugh from him.
“Good morning, handsome.” Fitz reached for Jack, laughing when Jack took his hand and spun him. He danced with Fitz, ignoring the catcalls from his brothers. The dogs lost their furry minds, running around and barking. When the song ended, Jack dipped Fitz and kissed him. It was sweet and amazing, and Fitz would have jumped his bones if they hadn’t had an audience.
“Good morning, sweetheart. I missed waking up to you this morning.” Jack lifted Fitz back onto his feet, and Fitz slipped his arms around Jack’s waist.
“You looked so warm and cozy; I didn’t want to wake you.” He’d been very tempted to stay and snuggle, especially since Jack had gotten in late last night after a long day of trying to fix the shambled mess that was the Ice Castle’s electrics. “Hold on. I’ll make you your latte.”
“Thanks, baby.”
Fitz made Jack his latte like he did every morning. He’d gotten into the routine of making their morning coffees when Jack had moved in with him. Before they’d gotten together, Jack had touched Fitz’s toaster, and it caught fire. Fitz decided not to take any chances with his precious espresso machine.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Red asked as he started serving up breakfast.
“Ooh!” Joker threw his arms up excitedly. “Decorating!”
Gio eyed his boyfriend suspiciously before turning to his best friend. “Colton. Why is he excited about decorating?”
Colton chuckled. “Because today is the day he gets to operate the knuckle boom.”
Well, that sounded dirty. Fitz looked to Jack. “What’s a knuckle boom, and should we cover Cocoa’s ears?”
Jack laughed and walked over to kiss Fitz’s cheek. “It’s a boom lift. Like what they use to fix power lines.”
“Oh.” Fitz glanced at Joker, who was far too excited for his own good. “And you think letting your best friend operate said heavy machinery is a good idea?”
Joker snorted. “Better me than Ace.”
Everyone nodded and murmured their agreement.
“Thanks,” Ace grumbled, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “Assholes.” He plucked another from the bowl and handed it to Cocoa, who excitedly munched it.
Joker bounced a blueberry off Ace’s head. “Keep saying that word around him, and he’s gonna think that’s someone’s name.”
Ace snickered. “It is. Yours.”
“I’m helping you train your puppy for free, and that’s the thanks I get?” Joker said something in German, and Chip darted over to Ace. He lifted his leg, and Ace yelped, making everyone laugh.
“I’m sorry!” Ace sighed with relief when Joker called Chip off. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You will not teach my precious furry boy to pee on someone on command.” He seemed to think about it. “Never mind. I retract that request. Might come in handy.”
“On that note,” Jack said, taking a travel mug from Fitz. “I’m off.”
Fitz handed Jack the insulated food bag he’d put together. “Breakfast and snacks.”
Everyone aw’d, and Jack flipped them off. He kissed Fitz’s cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Make sure you eat. I’ll come by at lunch and bring you food.”
Jack waved goodbye to everyone, and Fitz sighed. There went one sexy Italian.
Like every other instance when they were all together, the kitchen was filled with talk and laughter. When they finished breakfast, Lucky and Mason headed to the Ice Castle. Now that the roof supplies and the techy electrical stuff Jack needed had arrived, the guys were working hard to get the building up and running. Without it, Winterhaven was in danger of canceling their holiday festivities.
When Colton had surprised their family with a luxury cabin in the picturesque town of Winterhaven—the perfect Christmas destination—he’d known about the town hall being out of commission due to a terrible snowstorm. He’d had no idea the town hall was the same building as the Ice Castle, where all the town’s festivities were held.
“I know I’ve said it before, Colton,” Fitz said, motioning for Duchess to jump into the SUV before him. She looked fabulous in her hooded pink winter coat and matching winter booties. “But what you’re doing is amazing.”
Next to Gio, Colton was one of the most selfless, generous men Fitz had ever known. Colton might not be a philanthropist like Gio, but like his best friend, Colton didn’t hoard his wealth. He loved helping people and, in this instance, was determined to help Winterhaven pull off another successful holiday season, starting with getting all the supplies the town needed shipped in.
“Just doing what I can to help,” Colton replied. “We’re meeting Clara and the rest of the helpers in the town square. We will start there while the lights go up down the main street. Then we’ll all move on to the main street and hopefully the Ice Castle.”
They parked off the town square across the street from the Ice Castle. It made unpacking all the fur baby stuff easier. Each dog had a bag with everything from treats and food to water bowls and blankets.
All of the festivities were held in the Ice Castle, while the townspeople sold their holiday goodies from the market square stalls, all of which had yet to be set up or decorated because who were they going to sell to? All the guests had canceled when told the Ice Castle was out of commission.
“What’s the plan?” Fitz asked as they started walking.
“Joker, Gio, Laz, and King will work on the main streetlights. Noel and some of the other townspeople will be there to help. Ace and I will drop off Cocoa with Amara and Dotty, who are puppy-sitting for us, and then we’ll join Leo, Fitz, Merry, Clara, and some of the other townspeople in decorating the town square and market stalls.”
“How will we know what goes where?” Leo asked worriedly, the giant pom-pom on his red knitted hat making Fitz snicker. It was almost the size of his head. Leo was too freaking adorable.
“All the decor has been sorted and separated into labeled containers. Clara will have folders for everyone with photos of each stall from the previous year and a list of decor for each stall. Each one will be labeled with the corresponding containers’ numbers, making decorating quick and easy.”
When they reached the snow-covered cobblestone square—which was actually round—it was lined with rows and rows of containers, all clearly and neatly labeled. Clara greeted them and handed out folders.
“That stall over there has been set up with drinks and snacks for everyone,” she said. “There are also heaters to warm yourselves and your pups.” She looked at Fitz, who laughed.
“Thank you.”
Considering he wore sweaters in Florida because he ran cold, this weather was a whole other level of frosty for him, despite wearing a thick cashmere sweater, faux fur coat, gloves, a scarf, hat, and earmuffs. There was only so much winter chill he could take. He was already looking forward to decorating inside the Ice Castle once the heating was fixed.
“We’ll break for lunch at noon,” Clara said.
Festive music started playing from the speakers on the lampposts around the town square, and everyone got to work. Fitz set Duchess up in the stall with the heaters where she’d be nice and cozy. If she got too warm, she’d wander to where he was.
Fitz had his folder and his assistant decorators. They had quite the task ahead of them. There were two dozen stalls, all arranged in rows around the giant Christmas tree in the center, which also had to be decorated.
“Okay, boys, it looks like each stall gets one decorated garland along the top of the roof.” He glanced at Leo and Merry. Hmm. Adorable, but if Fitz intended to get through this with as few injuries as possible, it was best he not put either of them up on a ladder. He’d have to do it himself. “Why don’t you two hold the garland for me since it’s pretty thick and long.” Fitz gasped. “Oh no!” He scanned the area around him.
“What are you looking for?” Merry whispered.
Fitz opened his mouth to reply when Ace popped up from behind the stall, scaring the life out of Fitz.
“That’s what he said!”
Fitz closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “He is what I was looking for.” Fitz opened his eyes and glared at Ace. “Anston Sharpe, I am going to wrap this garland around your neck and strangle you with it!”
Ace took off with a howl of laughter.
Merry looked to Leo. “Where did he come from? Was he hiding back there waiting for someone to say that?”
“It’s Ace. We don’t ask questions,” Leo said, shaking his head. “He defies logic and science.”
“Now that he’s gone, we can get to work,” Fitz muttered. Thankfully, since the stalls were decorated for various holidays and festivities throughout the year, they were already equipped with hooks and clamps. Ladder set up, Fitz took hold of one end of the garland and started attaching it to the special hooks on the wood. “What are you up to?” Fitz asked Leo.
Leo blinked up at him. He lifted the garland in his hand. “Holding garland. Also, did you know there’s a city in Texas called Garland? I wonder if it gets confusing at Christmastime.”
Fitz glanced down at him. “Good question. However, I was referring to your recent escapades.” Over the last few days, Leo had been very cagey. It wasn’t like him.
Leo might get lost in his head quite often, but he was never secretive. He’d even disappeared last night and hadn’t replied to their texts or answered their calls. After realizing no one in their family had heard from him for hours, they went out in search of him, only to find he’d been sound asleep at the cabin the whole time.
“I can’t tell you.” Leo’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. It’s a secret.”
Fitz paused. Since when did Leo keep secrets? “Does it have to do with King?”
“Yes.”
Interesting. Considering Leo’s interest in “Santa” or rather the town mayor who looked like Santa, Fitz guessed it had something to do with King’s Christmas present. Usually, Leo asked for help. Matters of the heart either came easy, depending on the logic, or didn’t.
Gift-giving was challenging for Leo because it was one of the few times he was conflicted. His head wanted to gift something practical, while his heart wanted something special that would make the other person happy.
“Well, just ask for help if you need it, okay?”
“Of course,” Leo replied, beaming brightly. “So Colton told Ace, who told Lucky, who told Mason, who told Red, who told Laz, who told Gio, who told Joker, who told me that Colton asked Jack if he ever thought of proposing.”
“What?” Fitz turned so quickly that he lost his balance on the ladder. He yelped and flailed his arms as he fell back, but instead of hitting the snow-covered cobblestone, he stared up at a bearded face. “Noel?”
“Careful, Fitz.” Noel placed Fitz on his feet and, with a sweet smile, handed Fitz his fallen hat and earmuffs. “Here.”
“Thank you.” Fitz fixed his hair, then secured the earmuffs and hat back on his head. “Is everything okay? I thought you were helping with the lights on the main street.”
“I am. I was picking up one of the boxes of lights that went astray. Would you, um….” He glanced at Merry, who stood there unmoving, eyes wide. Merry quickly turned and pretended to inspect the garland in his hands. This had to be one of the most challenging matches Fitz had ever faced. He followed Noel when he motioned to the side.
“Would you have dinner with me tonight?”
Surely, Fitz had heard wrong. “Noel, I’m sorry, I’m—”
Noel took hold of Fitz’s hands. “Please, it’s really important. I want to talk to you about something.”
Oh! Noel probably wanted to talk about a certain cute little blond who had a crush on him but seemed incapable of even making eye contact. Maybe between the two of them, they could devise a way to help ease Merry’s nerves around his handsome lumberjack.
“Um, yes. Okay.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at The Jolly Stag at six-thirty?”
“Sure.” Fitz watched Noel walk away. Well, that was certainly an interesting development. He turned and jumped with a start. Why was everyone trying to scare the daylights out of him today? He put a hand to his chest. “Merry, you scared me.”
“You’re having dinner with him?” Merry asked, his eyes filled with hurt.
“Yes, but we’re—”
“I need to go.” Merry spun around and took off before Fitz could utter another word.
“What just happened?” Fitz murmured, confused. Surely Merry didn’t think that Fitz was interested in Noel? Granted, he and Merry had only known each other a short time, and Merry didn’t know Fitz all that well, but still….
Leo frowned. “You accepted dinner with the man he has a crush on.” He turned to Fitz, puzzled. “Why?”
“I accepted because I’m fairly certain Noel wants to talk about Merry, and from the looks of it, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Dancer by Jena Wade
Chapter 1
Dancer
I breathed in the cold winter air and enjoyed the bite against my skin as I trudged across the snow to one of the warehouses just outside Christmas Village. The warehouse might hold a lot of stuff, but the outside still looked like it belonged in a Christmas wonderland because, well… that’s where it was.
It was great to see all my friends again and catch up on all that had happened in the past three hundred or so days since I had last seen them. Unlike many other sleigh members, I did not actually work in the North Pole throughout the year. Nope. My only job was to carry the sleigh on Christmas Eve night—or at least help with it. I was second in line for the number fifty-four Santa team—the best Santa team if you asked me.
Not that many people asked.
What they did ask was, how did Santa deliver all those presents in one night? That’s impossible, right? Questions like that were what led people to stop believing in Santa. It was a trade secret that there wasn’t just one jolly old man. There were many. Not all of them men.
But Santa was always pulled by a team of reindeer. Shifter reindeer, who also had a human form. There was more to it than that, though. We were a special breed of reindeer with special magic. Not all reindeer shifters had that.
We were elite. The best. All descendants of the original eight reindeer that pulled the original Santa sleigh. I was Dancer. One of them… My alpha father was a Dancer as well.
Considering how many of us there were when you calculated how many Santa teams there were, how many reindeer he needed, the backups to those reindeer, and those in training, it wasn’t as elite as it had been in the past.
More and more of the magic reindeer were born each year. Someday, I might even have my own child who would train to be a part of a sleigh team. Or not. If that weren’t what they wanted, I wouldn’t force it on them. I was easy. Whatever made them happy would make me happy. My father had been a part of one of Santa’s sleigh teams, both my fathers—omega and alpha. They had wanted me to reside in Christmas Village like they did year-round, but call me crazy; I enjoyed greenery. And you just couldn’t find it up here.
Pine trees didn’t count. They were great, but I enjoyed all sorts of trees, which was why I made my career managing a sugar bush in Michigan. I had also started my own little tree farm—not growing Christmas trees as you would think—but growing all sorts of trees. I sold them to landscapers and nurseries.
Right now, I was fighting with the bugs on who would own the fruit trees I had planted. As far as I could tell, they were winning. But I was determined. Surely they couldn’t eat every piece of fruit that my trees bore? Or maybe they could, based on the year’s apple production and harvest rates. The bugs absolutely did eat all of them.
I walked into the warehouse, where we had a lot of our tools and equipment. I needed to inspect mine and check in with my assistant. It wasn’t necessarily part of my job. We had elves for that sort of thing, but I’d like to take a look at my equipment and make sure it was in working order. And make sure everything fit after the long break I had had.
Perhaps I had indulged in too many sugar cookies over the summer or, in my case, too much maple syrup with my waffles each day. This year had been a boom year for the syrup. It was flowing easily, and I had produced more than I ever had before. I also enjoyed more than I ever had before… Pancakes for breakfast every morning were starting to catch up to me.
“Hey there, Dancer! I didn’t know you were here just yet,” Tarie called with a smile.
He was one of my closest friends up here. He worked full-time with Santa’s crew. He, and every one of the assistants, was where the real magic happened. He and the others took care of our equipment when we weren’t using it, not to mention overseeing the coordination of our schedules for practices and whatnot.
“I’m only here for a few days,” I said. I pulled him into a tight hug. His short stature meant he only came up to my chest.
“Yeah? It’s good to see you, either way.”
“Yeah, where’s everyone else? Usually, I see a few more of the crew by now.”
“You haven’t heard?”
I stilled. That didn’t sound good.
Tarie smiled like he was taking pleasure in delivering whatever this news was. “Santa’s determined that all of you need a vacation. Did you not get your letter?”
“What?” I said.
“A vacation. Santa demands that everyone has one.”
I looked around and saw that there was a significant lack of activity. Not only was the reindeer crew missing, but all of the usual hustle and bustle of Christmas Village was slow. I hadn’t seen any of the other members of my crew all summer. I was looking forward to catching up.
“A vacation from what?” I said.
Tarie snorted. “Maybe you don’t need one, but the rest of us have to work up here.”
“I know that. I work too, you know.”
“I know you do. I’m just giving you shit. Things go well down south this year? Did you bring me any of your syrup?”
“They did indeed. The tree farm is really taking off, and I dropped off a few bottles in the kitchen for you with a note on them so no one else touches them.”
“Thanks, Dancer! That’s great. You’ll be heading for retirement soon, hanging up the bells so you can focus on your farm.”
I grinned. “Nah, I love this too much. As long as you guys keep letting me be a part-timer, I’m here for the duration.”
“We aren’t getting rid of you. Don’t worry about that.”
“So what’s this vacation about?” I asked.
“Pull up your email. Surely, you’ve got the letter in there.”
I hadn’t checked anything since I had arrived. I had turned my phone off for the flights. Sure, I could have just flown myself to the North Pole, but what was the fun in that? I had flown some of the way out of necessity. There weren’t exactly commercial flights to this place.
I pulled out my phone and checked my email app. Sure enough, right at the top, written in red because it was marked as “urgent.” The subject line of “mandatory vacation” blinked at me.
“Overworked?” I said.
“Yep. That’s the orders.”
This was my vacation, though. Unlike many of the others, this wasn’t work to me. This was my time off after my work was done.
“Can I do something around here?” I asked.
“Nope. Everything’s all taken care of. We’ve got extra help coming in to do what you all would usually be doing. You just need to report back for duty on Christmas Eve or a few days earlier if you really want, but you have to take a vacation. It’s the rules. And you better go because if Santa catches you here, he won’t be happy.”
“Give me a minute,” I said. “Can I go someplace and book this vacation?”
“Go ahead, use my office. Pick something out that’s fun. Many of the guys have been going to tropical beaches, Cancun, that sort of thing. Oh, and be sure to let us know where you go so the Santas can put together your package.”
“My what now?”
Tarie rolled his eyes. “Your gift package so you enjoy your vacation. Now go book a cruise or something hot.”
That was not my scene. I did have some things I would like to get done or maybe check out a few different tree farms. Tarie must have been reading my mind…
“It can’t be related to your other work. Santa will know.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Him and that damn list. “Would that really be naughty of me?” I winked at him.
He pushed at my shoulder playfully. “Just pick something and go for a week or two. Enjoy some time off.” He clapped me on the shoulder and walked away.
A vacation that couldn’t be related to work… It could be tangentially related to work, though. After all, how would Santa know?
A plan began forming in my mind.
I had always wanted to do a fall color tour. The trees in Michigan were absolutely breathtaking, and I didn’t always get to enjoy them like I should. When the maple was running I stayed busy with that.
What can I say? I was a bit of a tree freak.
I snuck into Tarie’s office. He wouldn’t mind if I plugged in and figured out my next steps. A few searches on the internet and bam, I booked myself a fall color tour in the upper peninsula.
All I needed to do was fly in. And look, I could fly from here.
I could stay at a lovely remote cabin and rent a car so I could see the foliage on my own.
Perfect. A vacation wouldn’t be so bad.
I didn’t feel I needed one, but who was I to question the big guy’s decision?
The Christmas Extra by VL Locey
Chapter One
“No, hey, Edgar, youcan’t park there,” I called to Edgar Murphy, an old dairy farmer who’s been retired from farming for well over twenty years now, as he pulled up in front of the Rockmount High School in his rattletrap Ford pickup. “This is a no parking zone and look down here!” I pointed at the fire hydrant I stood next to.
“What?” Edgar shouted, parked, and slowly extricated himself from his truck. “I come for the town meeting Mayor Milquetoast announced in the paper.” I snickered under my breath. Everyone called our mayor that even though they knew full well his name was Bradley Milkhouse. “When did that fire hydrant get put there?”
“Oh, about 1940 I’d guess,” I replied, reaching up to push my hat back on my head, glad for the gentle fall breeze. This year, November in the hills of Pennsylvania had arrived on a warm rustle of falling leaves. I feared it would go out on the back of a wintry gust, as it so often did. Edgar shuffled up to me, his “Eat Corn” ball cap frayed along the brim. “Edgar, you can’t park here. Also, while we’re talking real nicely, I think I explained to you that you cannot drive your farm truck around.”
“Why not? She’s a good runner. I bought her when Doris had our last boy, Timmy. Nope, that’s not right. Timmy sold that to me after his first boy was born. Yep, that’s right. Angus, his name is, married that Stottlemeyer gal from over in the holler.”
I nodded along as he relayed the history of his grandchild’s marriage. The parking lot was filling up rapidly. It seemed most folks were eager to hear what this big and exciting news was that our mayor had crowed about in the weekly Rockmount Gazette. A rather large part of being in law enforcement in an incredibly small town was being patient. “...then she had a baby girl. Named that poor child some damned foolish name from some dragon show. No one can pronounce that baby’s name. Well, guess she ain’t exactly a baby no more.”
“Edgar, as much as I’d love to stand here and chat, you need to move your truck in case of a fire. Also, when you drive home, make this the last trip you take that truck off the farm. It hasn’t been inspected since Clinton was in office.” I pointed at the sun-bleached PA inspection sticker clinging, miraculously, to the interior lower left of the windshield.
“That’s a dumb rule. I bet the current president come up with that law. Nothing wrong with that truck, Stillman.”
“I’m sure she’s a good truck but she’s not safe.” I shifted from one foot to the other, my sight touching on the families circling up the drive to enter the high school. My deputy was at the front door talking to the sister of a girl he was dating. “I don’t want to have to ticket you.”
“Fine, I’ll leave her home next time but it’s too far for me to walk what with my gout,” he informed me.
“Okay, you give Teddy your keys at the door and tell him Sheriff King wants him to move your truck around the back. Watch that curb.” I took his thin arm to aid him up to the sidewalk.
“You’re a good man, Stillman, even if you are light in the loafers.”
Off he toddled. I ran a hand over my beard, wondering, not for the first time, if the old folks in this county sat around making up terms for gays. I’d heard them all during my twenty years here, more frequently during my last ten or so, after I had come out. There had been some upset when the voters heard I was gay, but after the initial shock, they’d come to realize that even though I dated men, I was one hell of a law enforcement officer.
A few people had rebelled strongly, but over the years—and my winning every election overwhelmingly—the haters had stopped being so vocal. They were still around, but they’d shut their mouths. For the most part. Most were not willing to go toe-to-toe with me over my sexuality. Some people said that I was intimidating. Good. My chunky frame and height had served me well over the years with those who wanted to push the pansy sheriff. Trust me, most didn’t push too hard or too far. The only thing that pushed me steadily was Paul Whittle’s damn bull. That bastard and I had a long history, one that usually ended up with me hauling my beefy ass over a fence at breakneck speed while Milford visited all his neighbors up and down Whittle Fork Road. It had been a month. The son-of-a-bitch was due to break out and wreak havoc on people’s yards any day now.
I kept an eye on Edgar until he reached the front doors. Teddy spoke with him and then glanced at me. I nodded. My deputy smiled at the old gent and then jogged away from the sprawling stone-and-mortar building that housed grades seven through twelve toward me.
“Hey, so now we’re valet parking?” he asked, waving at the Armstrongs, who were creeping by with their four kids in the back of their burgundy minivan. Town meetings were big occurrences in Rockmount, especially when the city council was being so secretive.
“You’ll learn that being a small-town cop means doing all kinds of things they didn’t teach you at the police academy. I’ve had to help a cow give birth on more than one occasion,” I tossed out, enjoying seeing his bright blue eyes widen. “Valet parking is a breeze compared to being shoulder deep in a Hereford.”
“Yeah, that’s a hard no from me,” he countered and jogged around the old truck, taking a moment to point at the expired inspection sticker.
“I’m aware. Just pull it around back.” I could give old Jasper a citation, but why would I do that? He was an old, old man who thought he was getting something over on the sheriff. Maybe it made him recall his youth. Rumor was that the Murphy boys were quite the firecrackers way back when. He was the only one left out of the five wild Murphys, so as long as the truck wasn’t too much of a hazard, I could turn a blind eye. There were more important hills to die on, at least for me. My deputy, fresh out of my alma mater, had yet to learn to chill the hell out. Not every infraction required the hammer of the law to fall down on a person. He’d learn. Life and policing ran at a slower pace in a rural community.
I waved a few cars past the front of the high school, then when it was closer to time for the town hall, I moseyed inside, stopping to chat with Camryn Daniels, who owned the sporting goods store in town. He and I had hit it right off when I’d first arrived. He had been a wrestler in college, just as I had been through high school and also for Drexel when I was there studying criminal justice. Go Dragons!
“Any clue what this big news is?” Camryn asked as we made our way to the auditorium.
“Nope, but knowing Bradley, it’s something that’s going to be a major pain in my ass,” I replied, which got a knowing nod from Camryn.
The last time Bradley had summoned the town to an unscheduled meeting, it had been to announce that he’d invited a traveling circus to perform at the fairgrounds. A circus. With elephants. Of course, this was about fifteen years ago when people weren’t as attuned to the plight of captive elephants. All was well until someone forgot to tether the elephant and it went for a stroll down Main Street, blithely knocking down streetlamps and crushing our cute little redwood planters. Yep, that was a hoot. Then there was the time when he thought having a wild animal park would be a major boon to tourism. Which, sure, probably, but if he thought trying to corral a placid, old elephant was bad, just wait until the mountain lion they wanted as part of the park’s attractions broke loose. Or the buffalo. Or the baboons. I’d fought that one hard, and finally, clarity had won the day. Fucking baboons. I could just imagine the bedlam of a herd of fucking baboons in the movie theater.
“Bradley is a moron,” Camryn whispered before taking a seat next to his wife, Peggy. Couldn’t argue with that. How he was voted in time and again was one of those unsolved mysteries. He did have charm. I would give him that. Perhaps that was why the good people of Rockmount liked having him in charge.
I smiled at Peggy and made my way to the stage. I wasn’t on the council as it would be a conflict of interest, obviously, but I did like to hang out in case things got heated. And sometimes the voters got pretty hot under the collar at these things. Especially since raising taxes was on the docket and seeing how the mayor had been catty about the news he was sharing...it was just better to hang out and be seen looking growly. Taking a spot at the corner of the stage, I sat down with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day and my feet were tired of carrying around my two hundred twenty pounds. I shrugged out of my winter coat, draped it over the back of my folding chair, and then crossed my arms over my tan uniform shirt. My badge glinted in the bright lights shining down on us. Bradley liked the spotlight. I could do without it personally.
Several members of the council were already seated, our mayor waiting backstage to make an entrance. He did that. All the time. Politicians. Go figure.
When the auditorium was full, Bradley made his entrance. He was a tall man, pleasant enough to look at with his blond hair and blue eyes. I preferred my men darker, but I wasn’t dating the mayor. He was too ambitious for me and far too straight. I’d fallen in love with a man who had grandiose dreams once. I was content being a small-town sheriff and had no desire to see my name in lights or hear the applause of the masses. Helping out where I could while keeping the streets safe was good enough for me.
“Okay, everyone, if you could simmer down,” Bradley said, grinning out at the townsfolk who, to my sight, were sitting on their hands. “I know we’re all excited to get to the big news, but we have to do things by the book.”
And so we sat through all the blah-blah-blah of opening up a town hall. My deputy had returned, sneaking down the aisle to plant himself in a chair beside Melinda Pinkham, his new steady gal. Did kids do that anymore? Go steady? Probably not. Man, I age myself more and more every day. Wriggling down a few inches to get my weight off my tailbone, I stifled a yawn as my sight flickered over the stage. We had a small council compared to some larger towns. Just four members plus the mayor. Kevin Decamp was the president, Jane Arnold the secretary/treasurer, Joe Fahey the solicitor, and Owen Dyer was the fourth member newly elected just this past year. Owen ran the feed mill and was quite the catch. He’d never been married and after I came out, the rumors swirled that we were a thing. Nope, we were not.
Owen liked women just fine, and he was just a confirmed bachelor. Couldn’t hold that against him. I was too, it seemed. Not really by choice exactly. The dating pool in this neck of the woods was kind of limited. Actually, it was non-existent for a man of my age and life station. Not that I was unhappy. But the long, cold winter nights would be a lot less cold if my bed had someone else in it. As that was unlikely to happen despite what all the love gurus on daytime talk shows claimed—I was not at all sure romance could strike at any age—I was content. That was enough, surely. Many people wished to be as satisfied with their existence as I was. Who needed all the drama that came with a relationship? I’d pass even though I yearned for a warm body to curl up next to when the snow blew around my little home.
“...now that we’ve gotten through all the minutes from last time, thank you, Jane, we can get to new business.” Bradley beamed at his constituents. The man looked about ready to burst. I’d not seen him so torqued since the governor had visited two years ago on a reelection campaign stop. We’d made the poor man pet a cow. Nothing against Bertha, she’s a lovely Holstein and winner of a blue ribbon, but the governor had not worn cow-friendly shoes. “I know that I’ve spoken about trying to find ways to increase the city coffers. Several of my ideas have been true blockbusters!”
“Name one!” someone who sounded a good deal like Edgar shouted from the back. I smiled inside but remained stoic on the outside. Bradley, the consummate politician that he is, never missed a beat.
“This time Rockmount is about to become famous!” Bradley shouted into his mic, feedback flowing out of the speakers. “Sorry, sorry,” he quickly said as he moved his mic back from his face. “I’m just so darn excited!”
“I got calves to feed. Get to it!” a deeper male voice called from the right side of the room.
“Okay, simmer down, everyone.” Bradley patted the air in front of him. “We’ve just finalized a deal with Life Loves Studios to film a holiday romance movie right here in Rockmount! Yep, that’s right! Next week people will be arriving to begin filming! I’ve been told that six to eight weeks should be enough for them to do all the scenes they want here in Rockmount, so our local businesses will be thriving at a time when sales are needed most. We all know that most of our income rides with hunters coming into camps, but once they leave after the end of deer season, it’s a rough go. Not this year! This year our tills shall runneth over!”
We all blinked at the announcement. Wow, that was...wow. That was big news indeed. I nodded in appreciation of such a big score for the town. We’d have a ton of income flowing in, as well as hundreds of people. I stretched my legs out in front of me, crossing my right ankle over my left to try to alleviate the ache in my ass. Damn hard chairs. That influx of cash was great for Rockmount, but it might be a bit of a nightmare for Teddy and me. Maybe I should reach out to the state police to see if they could give us a hand while filming was taking place.
“And that’s not all,” Bradley announced. “The stars of Tinsel Kisses for Santa are two of the biggest soap opera stars on the planet, and they’ll be right here in town!”
“Who is it?” a woman a few rows from the front asked.
Bradley stood up. Huh, must be big names if he was going to his feet. I didn’t do daytime TV as a rule, so I’d not have a clue. I was at the courthouse most days, either in court or in our tiny little broom closet that they dared to call an office, or out policing the county. If I were home due to sickness, I might watch a game show, but if I was not working, I was either out fishing or hiking, anything outdoors as opposed to sitting inside. I spent enough time at a desk or staring out the windows of our lone courtroom on the second floor wishing I was outside. Besides, I did my best to avoid soap operas and those who starred in them.
I reached into a back pocket to pull out my phone and start making notes. A big rush of movie people was going to require some major planning ahead of time. Something that I was sure Bradley hadn’t bothered with. He’d shove that off to others as he normally did while basking in the limelight of his coup. First off, I’d have to make sure they had all the required permits and then I’d have to try to figure out where the hell these people were going to park because along Main Street was not going to happen as we—
“The stars of Willow Dale. Sasha Faye and Tony Gugliotti!” Bradley crowed. More than half the crowd seated on the bleachers squealed. I gaped at our mayor, my phone sliding from my now numb fingers to the floor as several men in farming caps asked who the hell Tony Gugliotti was. If only I could ask that question. I knew far too well who the man was...
***
My house was a tiny little fifties bungalow that used to be a hunting camp tucked back at the end of a winding dirt road.
There was something magical about my long driveway and it wasn’t just the fact that wildflowers lined it or that wildlife was frequently seen darting across it. That stretch of smooth gravel signified the end of the workday. Most of those workdays were pleasant enough, even if some did tend to run long. Today’s had been a real kick in the balls. Pity too because it had started off nicely enough with Teddy bringing in doughnuts with my favorite jelly-filled variety that the local bakery generally ran out of first. You would imagine a day that began with jelly-filled would end up on a good note. Nope, not this one. Perhaps jelly-filled had lost their magic? Whatever the cause, this day had not only taken a wrong turn, it had veered off the road and right over a cliff, flew downward to crash into jagged rocks, and then burst into flames in a garish Hollywood style.
I parked my black SUV with the big golden star on the door in my drive, turned off the engine, and simply sat there staring at my humble abode. It had been well over an hour since the bomb had dropped. Tony was coming here. To Rockmount. To act. In a fucking movie. About romance.
Fuck. Me.
He did. Many times. Remember?
“Nope, not going to take that stroll down memory lane,” I growled at myself. I’d worn that fucking path down to the Earth’s core over the years, and what had I gotten out of it? Blisters and an everlasting heartache. Staring at my front door as if I could mentally command it to open, I barely noticed the tuxedo cat waiting on the porch. Ellery stretched, meowed, and then sprinted to the car. I opened the driver’s side door for him. Up he leaped into my lap, making muddy cat tracks on my trousers. “Hey, buddy,” I whispered, running my hand down his back. His purrs were deafening. “Let’s go have a beer.”
He gave my chin a bonk with his head and then he jumped down to the cold ground. October had a firm chilly grip on things, frosting the grass as well as the pumpkins for the past few nights. The leaves were now mostly fallen. If you drew in a deep breath in the morning, you could taste the bitter touch of winter. It was coming. We’d been known to have snow by mid-November, a real boon to deer hunters.
And holiday movie sets. Real snow. How romantic!
“Nope, once again, we are not thinking about romance.” I stalked to my front door, opened it, and followed Ellery inside. He darted to the kitchen as I untied my black tactical boots and left them on the boot tray. Working where I did one needed good boots. I locked the front door and removed my duty rig from around my waist and then flipped on the light.
“Alexa, play the After the Gold Rush album,” I called, and she rewarded me with Neil Young’s amazing voice. The fire in the woodstove needed some wood, so I did that before padding around my rustic home, my head a million miles away given the fact that when I went to reach for the dry cat food, I still had my gun belt in my hand. “For fuck’s sake.”
Ellery was too hungry to put off, so I placed my rig on the counter, fed him, and threw a frozen meal in the microwave. Then I carried my belt into my bedroom, placed it on the dresser, and stood there staring at myself in the round mirror over the bureau. I looked pretty much the same as I always did but nothing like I had when Tony and I were together.
I’d been younger, leaner, still burly but not quite as husky, and with far less laugh lines and gray hairs. And Tony had been...well, Tony had been incredible. A fun-loving extrovert theater major who tended to offset my less-than-bubbly personality. Tony was beautiful. Tall, rangy, with dark hair and eyes so brown they appeared to be onyx. Olive skin from his Italian parents and a laugh that lifted a soul. Tony had wanted me just as much as I’d wanted him for some weird reason. To this day, I could not reason why. He was so stunning, so vital, so personable. He could have had any man on the Drexel campus, but he chose me. The big, lumbering wanna-be cop who wrestled to pay for his tuition. The poor kid from the rough side of Philly who somehow managed to get a sports scholarship to get him out of the grimy city streets. Tony was from Society Hill, a whole different world compared to the badlands where I’d grown up. Rich boy, poor boy. One dreams of acting, while the other dreams of walking a beat. We shouldn’t have worked, but we did. Until we didn’t.
I got my degree, and he got his. He left me for California. Not another man or because we didn’t jibe. He left me for the glamour of Tinsel Town, something that I could not compete with even if I had wanted to. Once he had left, I found my dreams had shifted slightly. I no longer wanted to work the streets that had claimed my older brother and, in a way, had also killed my parents for when David had been gunned down, they’d died as well. Day by day, until they were gone within a year of my younger brother. Tony had been the only reason I would have stayed in Philly, but when he climbed onto that jet bound for LA, my heart and soul withered, just like my folks had.
I left the city behind, applied for jobs in small towns throughout the commonwealth, and finally settled here. And I was happy here.
“You are happy here, Stillman,” I told myself. The man gazing back didn’t look particularly joyous. To be honest, he looked like he had swallowed a porcupine. Ellery arrived with a soft little squeak as he landed on my dresser. He paraded back and forth, his tail tickling the underside of my chin. “We’re as happy as clams, aren’t we, Ellery?”
He purred a bit more loudly, then jumped to the bed, eager to curl up on the duvet to warm his little pink beans. I had a moment where I too thought crawling into bed with the covers drawn over our heads would be the cat’s meow. But then that stubborn side of Stillman pushed aside the woe-is-me with a hearty shove.
“We are not going to do this again,” Stubborn Stillman announced. Ellery glanced up from cleaning himself, rear leg in the air, to stare at me as I pointed a finger at myself in the mirror. “We are not doing this again. The past is just that, the past. He’s a big TV star now. You’re a small-town sheriff. We’re going to do our job, be professional as hell, and not give two fiddly fucks about the man. Remember, he left you, not the other way around. You have nothing to be ashamed of and no reason to be fidgety. It’s only six to eight weeks, then he’ll be gone, headed for sunny California just like before, without a thought for you or what we had.”
I nodded at my reflection with authority. There. I told me.
It would be fine from here on out. I was one hell of a pep-talker.
Surely it was time for that beer now.
Under the Mistle-tome by Sammi Cee
Prologue
Trevor
Every year, for every holiday meal, I hoped it would be different, only to have my dreams dashed. This year, my mom set the tone immediately upon entering the front door, lashing out that we needed to take Holly’s winter boots off as we stepped inside. I’d wanted to grab my little girl’s hand, turn around, and head back to the car, but these were my parents, and for better or worse, they were the only grandparents my daughter had.
“So, Mom. Why don’t we do something different next year?”
She lifted her head, her gaze snagging on my daughter. “Holly, elbows off the table.”
“Okay,” my daughter said cheerfully.
I bit back my own harsh retort for my mom since her hard tone hadn’t affected my three-year-old. Three, for fuck’s sake. Yes, she needed to have good table manners, and I planned to guide her properly as she grew up, but did it have to be that big a deal all the time? It was Christmas, after all.
“So, Mom. Can we shake things up next year?” I persisted.
With her hand raised to take a bite, she stopped and rolled her eyes at me. “Why on earth would we change things? This is our tradition.”
Looking around the dining room at the one shelf done up for the holiday—two gold angels blowing trumpets on either side of a glass bowl full of red and gold ball ornaments, with garland strung with lights woven across the front—I admitted to myself that they were indeed tasteful and elegant. Sort of like you’d expect to see as a display in a department store to get ideas of why you should buy certain decorations. Just like when I was a child, there was nothing festive or fun. Even my parents’ Christmas tree had been set up by a designer and looked like it came straight out of a showroom. How in the world had my mother managed to live in Christmas Falls for all those years and still turned out so…blah?
“Holly, if you want apple pie for dessert, you have to eat all of the food on your plate.”
Holly side-eyed me from under her lashes, hiding her horror the best a three-year-old knew how. I’d told my parents at Thanksgiving that she didn’t like cooked fruit. But alas, my mother had apple pie for dessert because it was my father’s favorite. I guessed at least she had the ability to show some consideration for someone else since she’d always done her best to accommodate my father. To hell with everyone else, though.
My mom clanked her fork down on her plate—the closest she’d come to slamming it. “Why is she looking at you like that, Trevor?”
I sighed. “She doesn’t really like pie,” I said, going for the easiest answer.
“Well, that’s what we’re having for dessert.”
“I know, so I brought sugar cookies.”
Holly’s green eyes sparkled at me with happiness, then she went back to picking at her asparagus. Luckily, I’d intervened before my mom made Holly’s plate. She would’ve given her too much food, and not enough of the things Holly liked versus the things I knew she hated. And my parents were nothing if not strict about finishing what you were given.
“So, son, what were you thinking?” my dad asked gruffly.
My father was an interesting man. He’d never been around a whole lot. His life was aall about his work. At the same time, he’d been kind to me as a child, and even better to Holly now. Compared to my mother’s superior, sometimes contemptuous, attitude, it was a nice change. “I thought maybe we could go to Christmas Falls for the season. Maybe rent a few rooms at The Gingerbread Cottage.”
“Why on earth would we do that?” my mother asked sharply. “I have no desire to ever visit that town again.”
My father chuckled, smiling at my mother affectionately. “Edith, Christmas Falls gave us a good life and paid for this fancy house.”
Mom sniffed disdainfully. “All your years of hard work earned you this job. You would have gotten the experience somewhere, no matter what.”
It hurt something deep inside that my mother held so much contempt for the place I loved most in the world. It had been ten years since we moved away from the quaint town, but my memories hadn’t dimmed in that time.
My father shrugged his shoulders. “While I disagree with your mother about the town itself, Christmas Falls isn’t the ideal place for the holidays. Way too busy. Maybe we can look into going on a cruise. How does that sound, Edith? You’ve been wanting to do something like that.”
A hint of a smile played across my mother’s lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that. We’d have to look into it sooner rather than later so Trevor would have time to save up for it.”
Internally, I rolled my eyes. Of course she’d think I couldn’t afford it. She’d never bothered to hide her disdain for my work, even though I turned a pretty hefty profit. “It wasn’t exactly what I was thinking. I wanted to do something fun for Holly.”
“Yes, Holly. We would need to make sure they offer childcare for her.”
Now she was pushing it. Christmas or not, these snide comments were why we didn’t have Sunday dinners or even necessarily see my parents every month. “Mom.”
“Really, Trevor. You’re twenty-five-years old. I think it’s high time you address me as Edith.” Her gaze slid to my beautiful daughter. “And I’m much too young to be a grandmother, don’t you think?”
I gaped at her. Was she for real? Turning to my dad, I caught his narrowed eyes. I watched as he cleared his face of all emotion. I never knew how much he agreed with my mother or not because this mask was all I’d known from him every time my mom suggested or did something outrageously mean. In my heart of hearts, I didn’t believe she was a cruel woman, but she wasn’t emotional, either.
“Whatever you want, Edith,” I said with a little venom. There was no point in arguing with her since my dad wasn’t going to back me up.
“You should go,” Dad said.
Mom gaped, and I sat back, looking at my father curiously. “What?” we both asked in unison.
My father nodded thoughtfully. “Trevor, you should take Holly to Christmas Falls for the holidays next year. Edith, I’ll take you on that cruise.”
Mom shook her head. “No, the holidays are for family. Trevor and Holly should just come with us.”
Dad shrugged his shoulders. “Why? We can celebrate before or after. There’s no reason for Holly to miss out on all the things Trevor lived for as a kid.” His gaze flicked to Holly and softened. “She’ll be four next year, and I think she’ll love it. Remember the sleigh rides when you were young, Trevor?”
“Of course. That’s one of many things I want Holly to experience.”
Dad nodded. “Good. Then it settled. Edith, you can start browsing for cruises, and Trevor will make plans for them. See, everyone’s happy.”
My mom glared at her plate, but Dad winked at me. I guessed my old man had my back more than I thought. Should I really do as he suggested? It would mean pissing off my mom, but it would also mean tons of fun for my daughter and a chance to reconnect with my best friend. Trey, who we all called T to keep from getting confused with our double Tre names, and I hadn’t seen each other since I moved away at fifteen. We’d stayed in contact for a while, but eventually, we’d become nothing more than social media friends. He knew nothing about my life now—including Holly—since I didn’t post personal details of my life online. But I’d been able to glimpse all of his family holidays, his sister getting married, him taking over the family bookstore, and all of the other moments of his life that he’d shared.
The main one being the first time he’d posted himself with a boyfriend. He’d never done a big coming-out post or anything, but the different girlfriends and boyfriends he’d posted through the years were a pretty big clue that he was bisexual, which meant I felt safe revealing to my oldest and dearest friend that I was gay. Something that I hadn’t been sure how to do when I’d first realized myself. What would it be like to reconnect now as adults? Grown men with professions, responsibilities, and, in my case, a child? I didn’t know, but an excited buzz filled my body.
Holly looked up at me with her big green eyes, and my decision was made. Come hell or high water, we’d be in Christmas Falls next year for the holidays.
Holiday Crush by Lane Hayes
1
COURT
“Home is where one starts from.” — T.S. Eliot
The clock was running out on the Sea Snappers’ worst loss in a decade. For a team with a three-year losing record, that was saying something.
I leaned on my stick, chewing on my mouthguard, my gaze fixed on the puck as I waited for the signal for a line change. Put me in, Coach. Put me in. My blood was pumping, fast and furious, and my heart was racing. I’d been as useless as a screen door on a submarine tonight, but this was my moment. I could feel it.
When Coach Calhoun blew his whistle, I jumped the boards and skated like the wind, ready to wreak havoc and prevent another goal. And you know if I saw a chance to score, I’d make it happen. No question.
Except…Detroit’s big D-man was two inches taller than my six three and easily outweighed me by fifty pounds. And Jenkins was a renowned dirty player whose smack talk was a ridiculous combination of offensive and humorous.
“You wearing your grandma’s knickers tonight, Henderson? I see little pink hearts through your uniform,” he taunted, bumping my shoulder hard as we took our places to the left of the circle.
“My uniform is black, moron.”
“Like the puck I’m about to score on your sorry ass with. Boom!” He kept his gaze on me but drew his stick back just as his teammate passed the puck, leaving a vapor trail in his wake.
I chased after him, so focused on Jenkins that I didn’t notice my own teammate closing in. That was my cue to pull away and cover the right wing. Problem: I couldn’t stop my momentum. And that was a terrible excuse for a veteran pro hockey player—even one who’d been stuck on bad minor league teams in regions of the country where football and baseball were the only sports that got any love.
None of that mattered. So what if the money sucked and the fans rarely showed up for home games? This was my job. I knew what I was supposed to be doing, and it sure as hell wasn’t defending Granny Henderson’s honor. No doubt she was watching from heaven, laughing her ass off at the notion of her unmentionables getting a shout-out while my opponent outskated me.
Jenkins thundered toward the goal like he fucking owned it and just before I reached him, passed to his center. Like I said, momentum wasn’t in my favor. I pummeled into him at a weird angle and somehow…accidentally, I swear…I nudged his face with my stick and yep, there was blood.
Guess who got sent to the sin bin?
Again.
I sat on the bench, watching the puck slip by our meager line of defense and in between our goalie’s pads, giving the Detroit Dragons their tenth and final goal of the night.
The few diehard Sea Snappers fans in the mostly empty arena groaned aloud. And damn, I couldn’t blame them. We kept promising this was the season everything would change, but so far…it was the same ol’ story with the same disappointing ending.
We sucked.
We’d sucked for so long, we’d forgotten what it felt like to win. And personally, I’d forgotten what it was like to feel proud of my job or my life in general.
For fuck’s sake, I was thirty-four years old and had nothing to show for myself. I’d ridden my professional hockey player bragging rights into the ground for thirteen years. I’d love to claim I’d made bank, invested well, and saved like a squirrel preparing for a mini ice age, but that was a lie.
Something had to give.
The team needed to bond and figure out how to work together if we were going to avoid another awful year. I’d mention it to Coach tomorrow. Fuck, Calhoun had to be more desperate than anyone to turn this ship around. I’d bet he’d be open to some new ideas.
* * *
Managementand I must have been on the same page ’cause I received a message requesting my presence for a meeting the following morning. Eight a.m. was aggressively early in my opinion, but hey, I was relieved to take this to the top and implement some immediate changes.
Did I think it was strange to be called in on my own? Not at all. I was on good terms with management and the coaching staff, and the owners liked me.
No, I wasn’t captain. Fuck, I’d avoided that gig like the plague for good reason. I’d done it in college and it had sucked. I wasn’t a cheerleader or babysitter material. However, like it or not, I was an older statesman and I’d been around the block a few times. And in spite of my abysmal start to the year, I was appreciated and well respected.
In a twist, I was also extraordinarily delusional.
The general manager, a short squat man in his sixties with thinning gray hair and a bushy beard, motioned for me to sit at the conference room table, a grim expression fixed on his not-so-handsome mug.
“On behalf of the entire Sea Snappers organization, we’d like to thank you for your dedication to the team. You’ve been a tremendous asset during your tenure and we’re confident you’ll continue to inspire. However, effective immediately, we’ve opted to terminate your contract.”
Holy fuck.
I got cut.
* * *
I pushed asidethe nasty-looking pumpkin spice latte my agent set in front of me, slouching in my chair as I scrubbed my hand over my scruffy jaw. “Did this really happen? Is this legal? They can’t cut me. Can they?”
“Afraid so,” Jeff replied evenly.
He checked his watch, then sipped his orange-tinged seasonal coffee and shot me a sympathetic glance that didn’t quite hit his eyes.
Par for the course. Jeff Taylor was a slick middle-aged dude who rocked Brooks Brothers suits with sneakers and wore red-framed glasses. I used to think his hipster wardrobe choices were cool and edgy, but it eventually occurred to me that he was pandering to his clientele. Suits for managers, sneakers for coaches and players, and quirky eyewear to tie it all together as proof that while he might be pushing fifty, he was still cool with a capital C.
Honestly, Jeff was too cool. I couldn’t relate to him at all, which hadn’t mattered in the past. I didn’t need a buddy. I needed a fucking job.
“What do you mean? This isn’t—this can’t be—” I swallowed hard and gazed out the window at the tourists and students meandering along King Street. “It’s like they fired me.”
“They did fire you.”
“I’ve never been fired. I’ve never been asked to clean out my locker at the start of the fucking season. This is…unreal.”
“Court, my man. C’mon, relax. It’s gonna be okay. You still had two years on your contract. They’re paying you everything up front, so in a way, it’s like you won the lottery.” Jeff held a hand up when I skewered him with a sharp stare. “All right, I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I’m just trying to point out that this isn’t a desperate situation. I’ll try to find you something new.”
“When and where? I bought a fucking condo in Charleston when you told me this was my final home base.”
“To be fair, maybe I wasn’t exactly wrong,” he said gently.
I snapped my head in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They’re giving you the same salary you’d have earned till you were thirty-six…the year you were planning to retire.”
“But I don’t want to retire. I want to play hockey,” I hissed.
“I know.” He glanced at his watch again and scooted to the edge of his chair. “Look, I have to get going soon. I’ll put my feelers out and see what’s available.”
“That’s it?” I huffed incredulously.
“Court, I’m not a magician. I don’t know what you want me to do.” He frowned, clearly exasperated.
“Your job. I want you to do your job and fix my job because as you know…that’s how I pay you.”
Jeff sighed. “Yeah, well…let me be straight with you, Henderson. Most professional minor league teams aren’t in the market for someone your age.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. They want young talent they can mold. You haven’t had any major injuries recently, so you have that going for you.”
“But…” I rolled my wrist in an impatient gesture for him to keep talking and ideally, not look at his watch again as if this was all very fucking boring. “What are you not saying?”
“All right, fine. You haven’t been playing well, Court. You’ve been more of a liability than an asset and I know the season has just begun, but last season wasn’t great for you either.” Jeff patted my forearm as he pushed away from the table. “Good news is I’m going to do everything I can for you. I need you to be realistic, though. This may take time. Which…I’m officially out of.”
I furrowed my brow when he stood. “Whoa. Where’re you going?”
“I’m meeting a client and his parents for brunch at the Bennett. He’s eighteen and I gotta tell you, I think he’s going to the AHL or even, God willing, the NHL.” Jeff gave my shoulder a patronizing squeeze and rearranged his features to something more solemn, adding, “My advice to you—relax. I’ll do what I can, but in the meantime, take a few weeks and regroup.”
“A few weeks?” I gulped audibly. “It’s the beginning of November.”
“Maybe go on a trip for the holidays or something.”
“A trip,” I repeated dully.
“Could be good for you.”
I wanted to scream that travel was the last thing on my mind, but my head was pounding and I didn’t have the energy to argue. I shoved my sunglasses on and followed him outside, dodging a gaggle of sorority girls. I had no idea why a posse of twentysomethings was the detail that shook a few cobwebs loose, but it suddenly occurred to me that it was kind of weird that Jeff happened to be in town at all.
He lived in Connecticut and liked to gripe about what a pain in the ass it was to fly into Charleston. There were no direct flights from Hartford so what should have taken less than two hours took twice that or more. Also…I didn’t live in this part of town. We could have met at my place or a coffee shop in my neighborhood, but he’d insisted on meeting in the historic district.
Huh…he wasn’t here for me. He was here for the new client and that was all well and good, but—
“You planned this trip in advance. You knew about this, didn’t you?”
Jeff’s smarmy grin was locked in place. “About what?”
“You knew they were going to let me go. Why else would you so conveniently be available?”
He had the grace not to deny it or even look surprised. “Court, open your eyes, man. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. The writing is on the wall, and it has been for a while. Now, I gotta run or I really will be late. Take care of yourself. I’ll check in with you in a few days.”
“No, don’t bother.” I stuffed my cell into my pocket and flashed a weak half smile. “You’re fired.”
“Court.”
“Later, Jeff. And by the way…fuck off, too.”
I headed in the opposite direction of the Bennett, barely curbing the urge to flip him off and yell a few choice obscenities before striding into the heart of the shopping district. This was a nice part of town and while the students might not be fazed, I doubted the well-dressed tourists would appreciate a show.
Whatever. I lifted both middle fingers in the air and strode away with my head held high.
I wasn’t sure what to do next, though.
I wandered the narrow city sidewalks for hours, alternately berating myself, Jeff, or management, and ended up at the water’s edge, staring at the harbor and Fort Sumter in the distance as if looking for answers.
I composed then deleted messages for a few friends, unsure how to verbalize “My career took a sudden nosedive and I don’t know what the fuck to do” via voice mail to guys who were probably working out and preparing for the next game. I eventually gave up and headed back to my place, feeling like the human equivalent of dog shit.
That feeling stuck with me for days.
No joke.
I tossed and turned at night, ordered a fuckton of takeout, and avoided my cell like the plague. I also drank a lot of beer, ate a lot of pizza, and got lost in reruns of The Office, The Sopranos, and a medley of cooking shows.
Okay, and I watched hockey too. I couldn’t not watch it. It was in my blood. I’d never been away from the game. It was part of me that was so ingrained, I couldn’t fathom losing it. Not like this, lying on my sofa next to a row of empty bottles with a piece of stale crust on a shirt I hadn’t washed in longer than I’d ever admit and my beard overgrown to the point I doubted my own family would recognize me.
I had no idea what day it was, but the aggressive onset of holiday-themed commercials indicated I hadn’t missed Christmas yet, so I had that going for me. But not much else.
I had to scrape myself together and do something—anything. The only thing I could think was… Maybe it’stime to go home.
“Oh honey, that’s wonderful,” Mom gushed.
“Well, not really.” I filled her in on my new unemployed status. “It’s temporary. I mean, I need a new agent, but…I’ll figure it out.”
“Of course you will. Talk to Vinnie Kiminski. He’s running the hockey program at the rink with Ronnie Moore now. Riley Thoreau is part of their team too. I bet those boys could use your expertise. Call them.” She paused for a breath, adding, “Or shall I?”
“No, it’s cool. I got it, Ma.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, Court. I know this isn’t what you want, but life doesn’t always go according to plan. Sometimes we all need a reset. I bet you’ll find your way from Elmwood. And if nothing else, there’s no place like home for the holidays.”
I swiped my hand through my hair and nodded, though the gesture was lost in the connection. “Yeah, right.”
“Hey, now, it’s going to be amazing. Maybe so wonderful you’ll never want to leave. Holiday cookies, holiday music, holiday hockey…”
I smiled into the phone, feeling marginally lighter than I had in days. Sure, slinking off to Elmwood in the midst of a career and possible life crisis was a classic case of avoidance, but so what?
Home sounded really nice right now.
But only for a little while.
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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Jena began writing in January of 2013 as a New Year's Resolution--and so far she has stuck to it!
She lives in Michigan. By day she works as a web developer, and at night she writes. Born and raised on a farm, she spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden, or riding her horses. She also helps run the family dairy farm.
She lives in Michigan. By day she works as a web developer, and at night she writes. Born and raised on a farm, she spends most of her free time outdoors, playing in the garden, or riding her horses. She also helps run the family dairy farm.
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.
Sammi Cee was raised in a family of readers. Summer vacations consisted of a good book while sitting lakeside from as far back as she could remember. After growing up and having her own children, her appreciation of how the written word could transport you on an adventure, bring you to tears, or give you hope, took on a whole new meaning.
These days Sammi is watching her children develop into fine young ladies while doing the things she enjoys most: drinking coffee, eating chocolate, and writing her own stories.
These days Sammi is watching her children develop into fine young ladies while doing the things she enjoys most: drinking coffee, eating chocolate, and writing her own stories.
Lane HayesLane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.
Charlie Cochet
EMAIL: charlie@charliecochet.com
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
Sammi Cee
Sleigh it Ain't So by Charlie Cochet
Dancer by Jena Wade
The Christmas Extra by VL Locey
Under the Mistle-tome by Sammi Cee
Holiday Crush by Lane Hayes
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