Sunday, December 22, 2024
🎅🎄Random Tales of Christmas 2024 Part 10🎄🎅
Summary:
The Wright Brothers #1
The first time Bee Bannister met Tom Wright, he couldn’t stand him.
Everything about the man aggravated him—his perfect hair and body, his confident arrogance, and the way he looked straight through Bee.
Which is why it’s such an unpleasant shock to find that he’ll be sharing space with him while on a Christmas holiday with friends in Scotland.
However, as the days fly by and snowy Edinburgh begins to work its magic on him, Bee discovers that sometimes first impressions can be very misleading. Tom is kind and funny, and somehow, rather than looking through Bee, he actually sees and likes all of him.
The two men grow closer, but will Bee follow his heart or his head when the holiday ends? And can relationships that start so badly ever lead to love?
From bestselling author Lily Morton comes a festive romantic comedy about enemies to lovers and the magic of Christmas.
This is the first book in the Wright Brothers series.
Summary:
Anna Martin's Christmas Short Stories #6
Jim Fletcher is spending the winter recovering — and hiding — on the west coast of Ireland after falling down the steps of his private jet and breaking his ankle. The past decade of life in a rock band has taken its toll, and the quiet life and chance to breathe has helped heal more than just his ankle. In the meantime, a side project for the local post service is keeping him out of trouble.
Connell Sullivan has never thought much about being anything other than a postman, but the arrival in town of a famous rockstar upends his world. Jim is larger than life, and Connell likes his familiar routine. Are they destined to just be penpals, or is there maybe the chance of something more?
What a perfectly fun addition to Anna Martin's Christmas Short series. I'll be honest, there was a short chunk of time(a few pages or less) that I almost thought the author was going in a more magical route in this year's holiday fare. Don't get me wrong, that would have been lovely and fun too but there is a collective "AWWWW" with the direction the author wrote, well I don't know if anyone else had an "AWWW" moment but I sure did and that isn't just "review speak" I literally(and loudly) spewed "AWWW" into the universe so I like to think everyone did too.
To be short and sweet: Santa Maybe has everything you want in a holiday romance: chemistry, humor, friendship, heart, and of course to above mentioned "AWWWWW". I'm already looking forward to the author's 2025 holiday gem. You definitely won't go wrong with Santa Maybe and the whole Martin's Christmas Shorts series.
Once Upon a Second Chance by Davidson King
Summary:Once Upon a Holiday Story #1
Can two men weighed down by their pasts find a future with each other?
Daniel Laverton is a wealthy man who was born into privilege. His family helped build Everlasting Springs, and he spends his days ensuring it prospers. The town is in his veins, the love he has for it keeping him there, happily. In his big house on the top of a hill he resides—just him, his cat, and his past. With middle age knocking at his door and the holidays approaching, loneliness is creeping in.
Aaron Darwin is used to struggling. He lives a moment at a time, traveling in his not-so-trusty car, going from place to place and looking for work. When a huge storm looms, Aaron’s luck goes from bad to worse and his vehicle decides to die. With no shelter, very little money, and a town ahead that is closing down, Aaron has no idea how he will get through this impending disaster.
Perhaps it’s the jingle bells in the air or his own solitude, but there’s no way Daniel can leave the man stranded. When he takes a reluctant Aaron in to hunker down and ride out the storm, the two get more than they bargained for. It is easy for them to see all the reasons they shouldn’t work and overlook all the ways they do, but it is holiday season in Everlasting Springs, a time for miracles and second chances. A time for two lonely men to realize they’ve already received the best gift for Christmas: each other.
Once Upon a Second Chance is a part of the multi-author series Once Upon a Holiday Story. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Hook’s Book Nook Traveling Library, a library on wheels owned by two old ladies in love.
Original Review November 2024:
A full-on Christmas novella from Davidson King? Yes, please!!! King has written holiday tales before, most of them happen to be established series entries with some mention of the holiday within the book.
**Side note: for anyone who knows me knows that as a Die-Hard-is-a-Xmas-movie person that also means books with even the tiniest mention of the holiday puts that book in the holiday column.**
Okay, side note made now back to Once Upon a Second Chance. Those familiar with King's work knows that she is 99% of the time all about the mayhem and she's darn good at it but she has a sweet side too and Second Chance is proof of that. Is Second Chance a bit too holiday sweet? Never! Because lets face it, if you can't be all about the sap at Xmas than there is no acceptable level of sap that works😉. Don't get me wrong, my previous statement might make it sound like I think sap can be bad, quite the opposite, I love a good happy happy tale but it has to be done right and boy does King do it right!
Daniel and Aaron are the making of a Hallmark Channel formulaic tale but there is so much more to it and frankly, 150 times better than the HEA holiday romps the channel of love puts out. Trust me, I've seen more than I really need to as my mom is a sucker for the channel(so much so that when she was in the hospital in 2021 for 108 days, she was known as "the Hallmark lady" on 3 different floors). Daniel comes from money, Aaron does not but Daniel is so much more than his bank account. He is the kind of man we all wish our community had, a man who helps others without thinking twice about doing so and yes his money allows him extra freedom to do so but it's often not the money that does the helping but the heart behind it. Aaron on the other hand is nearly out of funds and his car breaking down near Everlasting Springs as a storm approaches might be fates way of telling him that he doesn't have to do everything alone anymore.
The storm may be the set up but it is a character in itself IMO. We all gripe about Mother Nature's evil ways but sometimes she knows what she's doing. I don't want to spoil anything but I gotta say(in hinty ways to lessen the spoil) Davidson King shows just how snowstorms(expected or unexpected - and I've experienced more than my share of both up here in wilds of Wisconsin) can be devastating beyond the typical. Snow can be heavy and when it's heavy there are more dangers than the inches(or feets) on the road or the ice underneath and unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your outlook, Aaron discovers that all too well. It has to do with his car, I've never experienced it but I've seen it, not the first thing you expect but hindsight often shows you differently.
Okay, I'm rambling as I'm a little rushed for time(not that you'd know it by the wordage😉) so I'll say simpler: Once Upon a Second Chance is a lovely holiday gem and I can't think of a better way to kick off my holiday reading. There's chemistry, humor, hard times, good times, laughter, passion, friendship, romance . . . let's face it there is everything but mobs, sci-fi, and the kitchen sink . . . oh wait, I believe Aaron does the dishes so the kitchen sink is even here😉. Davidson King's entry is part of a multi-author series that is only connected thru The Hook’s Book Nook Traveling Library so there is no right or wrong way to read the series and I know I look forward to discovering the other authors' entries.
One last personal note, I want to say a huge Thank You to Davidson King for making me smile with this holiday story. After a less than positive week for many Americans, I made myself pick this book up and start it even though I had real no desire to so at the time. Within just a few pages, I found myself letting go of current events and smiling again and realizing that keeping oneself going is the best way to deal with what is in front of us. So again, Thanks, Davidson King you and your words never fail to brighten my day.
RATING:
Summary:
Santa's Naughty Elf Mates
Everything is better with a little extra sparkle and glitter.
I’m the glitter elf and I wear the badge with pride. Why shimmer a tiny bit when you can sparkle like a star lit sky? If only Santa agreed with me. I fill the workshop with glitter one too many times and he fires me from the only job I’ve ever known.
And it’s worse than that—I’m banished from the North Pole—doomed to live as a figurine unless I can find true love and all that other gobbly gook from fairy tales within a year.
Now I’m stuck living with a grumpy Christmas hating alpha. Only is it really stuck, if the hottie is my fated mate? Possibly. Walter is a certified Scrooge who prefers peace and quiet over festive chaos and has no idea that the elf figuring he chats with each evening is actually his new assistant, Shimmersnap. I may know he’s my fated, but he doesn’t feel the same.
Maybe glitter can fix it.
Naughty Elf: Shimmersnap is a sweet with knotty heat MM mpreg Christmas romance featuring a glitter loving elf who made one tiny mistake, a human who has better things to do than be merry and bright, more sunshine than a bright summer day, presents, Christmas trees, a snow storm, Santa doing what Santa does—delivering the best Christmas presents ever, true love, fated mates, and an adorable baby.
**Naughty Elf: Shimmersnap is part of the Santa's Naughty Elves multi-author shared world M/M Christmas Mpreg series, which can be read in any order. Why not read them all?
Collier's Creek Christmas
Stolen toys and a naughty St. Nick. Will a holiday crime spree bring two hearts together?
Ask Dakota and he’ll say the wall around his heart is high and the moat deep for a reason. Love is a lie.
If Tad knows one single truth, it’s that Dakota is his personal North Star. Dakota, the boy Tad bonded with at fourteen, has grown into Dakota, the man he loves. The second, more frustrating truth, is that Dakota is one of the most stubborn people on the planet.
Dakota craves a simple existence. Work. Sleep. Eat. Hang out with his best friend. Keep things platonic. No one knows him better than Tad.
The holidays have arrived, and it’s supposed to be a time of celebration, but some blackhearted person steals the donations to the town toy box. Dakota finds himself working the case of the purloined toys, while Tad fills in at the town newspaper. It’s inevitable their paths will cross.
Tad is fine with crossing paths--and more. Is it going too far adding Dakota Green to the top of his Christmas wish list?
And what will it take for Dakota to realize that he deserves happiness? That Tad, the person who knows him best, is the one for him?
Celebrate the holidays with the men of Collier’s Creek, where magic fills the air and irresistible romances are the highlight of the festive season. Six low-angst romances, each filled with heartwarming moments and swoon-worthy romance.
#grumpy-sunshine, #lowangst #holidayromance, #idiotstolovers, #friendstolovers, #foundfamily #acceptingbiofamily #coldhands #spikedhotchocolate
On Circus Lane by Lily Morton
Chapter One
BEE
Mariah Carey is fully embracing her time in the festive spotlight, as “All I Want for Christmas Is You” pumps out over the pub speakers. Even so, she’s barely managing to compete with the noise of party revellers. It’s one week before Christmas, and everyone seems to be throwing their all into the festive cheer.
I relax back in my chair and lift my drink to my mouth while idly looking around the converted Victorian warehouse. The bar is part of a big chain, and opened only last year. The heavy use of company colours in the space makes it look like an uneasy mash-up between Christmas and their annual general meeting. However, even their version of corporate holiday chic can’t stop the happy atmosphere.
A red-headed man leans over the bar, watching me with a sultry expression. I drop him a wink, and he brightens and immediately makes his way over.
“Hi,” he says.
I smile at him. “Hey.”
“Fancy a drink?” he asks, coming closer and gifting me a waft of his expensive cologne.
I look him up and down. “I’d love one. Rum and Coke, please.”
Smiling, he wanders over to join the huge queue.
My best friend heaves a heavy sigh next to me.
“What’s up with you?” I ask.
Ivy grimaces at me. “Well, look at you. It’s just not fair.”
“My combination of looks and brains?”
She rolls her eyes. “And your modesty. Don’t ever forget that.” I laugh, and she nudges me. “I can’t believe you. You only looked at each other once, and now you’ve pulled. Meanwhile, I can’t even get a bloke to give me a second glance.”
I drain my glass. “You’d have loads of blokes giving you third and fourth glances, but they don’t fit in with your marital timetable.”
“I told you. I don’t want casual one-night shags anymore. I’ve been there and done that, and now I want someone to spend the next fifty years with.”
“That’s alarmingly precise. What happens if he lasts beyond the time scale? Will he wake up and find you’ve chucked him in the dustbin?”
She grimaces. “I just want a bloke with a few years of monogamy in his tank. I know you don’t understand.”
“I don’t. I just want a man who’s capable of maintaining an erection for twenty minutes.”
There’s a sudden silence at the table next to us where a group of women wearing sparkly veils have been celebrating a hen party. Either that, or they’re contemplating entering a nunnery. They look at me and then immediately hoot and holler.
I grin at them, and Ivy rolls her eyes. She says, gloomily, “Good luck with your Erection Plan.”
“Is that a thing?” I ask, amused.
“By midnight, most of the men in here will be drooping like a daffodil on Mothering Sunday.”
As if on cue, a man reels over to us. He’s wearing a suit with his tie flapping limply. “Whash up, darlin’?” he slurs.
“Beyond getting pissed off your breath, not much,” Ivy snaps.
It seems to take an eternity to travel to his brain, but then he grins and sidles close to her. “Fancy a shag?”
“Ugh,” she says, shoving him. Unperturbed, he moves on to the group next to us, where his question is greeted much more congenially.
Ivy brightens as she looks to her right. “Sal,” she shouts, half standing and waving.
Her friend Sally comes towards us. She’s looking as gorgeous as ever, with her long brown hair shining in the light and her eyes sparkling.
“Alright, losers?” she says, throwing herself into the seat Ivy saved for her.
I grin at her. I don’t know Sal well, but I like her. She’s good people.
“Have you just finished work?” I ask.
“Yep,” she says, sighing. “I think Scrooge would be a better employer than mine at the moment. Last week, I had a prang in my car, and he told me to take the lunchtime off. And the stingy wanker hasn’t bought me a Christmas present.” She accepts the drink Ivy hands her with a smile and takes a healthy swig. “Never mind that, though. Are you all ready for the holiday?”
Ivy rubs her hands together. “Four days in Edinburgh. I can’t wait.”
I frown. “Who exactly is going again?”
“I knew you weren’t listening,” Ivy says. She turns to Sal. “Did you tell him facts while he was doodling? That was your first mistake. He never pays any attention.”
“I wasn’t doodling. They were valuable equations,” I protest, grabbing my next drink from the assortment that Ivy and I ordered earlier. Ivy and Sal roll their eyes, looking like disapproving meerkats.
“You’ll meet a few of the people going with us in a minute,” Sal says. “Everyone apart from Theo and Georgina are meeting us for a drink so we can get to know each other.”
“Lovely,” I say faintly.
Sal drains her drink, and I blink. I’ve only managed a sip of mine.
“I’ll go and get us another round,” she says, standing. “What do you want?”
We give her the order and watch her make her way to the bar. She grins wickedly at a group of blokes who are waiting to be served, throws her hair back, and they part like the Red Sea around Moses. In fact, Moses should have taken Sal along with him. She’d have found someone to carry the Ten Commandments in no time at all.
“Tell me again how you roped me into this Edinburgh idea,” I say to Ivy.
She digs her finger into my ribs until I squirm. “Because I want to go. I’ve never been to Scotland before, and Edinburgh is supposed to be beautiful at Christmas.”
“And where do I come in? I do have a lot of work on my plate at the moment, you know.”
She blows a raspberry. “Bee, you could take that DPhil with your hands tied behind your back.”
“I’m not sure that’s quite how it works. Well, not unless the examining board have become intriguingly BDSM themed since I took my last degree.”
“Which degree? You’ve got so many, I’ve lost count.” She leans closer. “You’re going because I don’t know any of the others, and you’re my best friend, so it’s the law that you have to come too.”
“You know Sal.”
“She’s my friend from work.” She says this as though it explains everything.
“And?” I prompt.
“Well, it’s not the same as being with someone I’ve known since I was five.” She smiles coaxingly. “We’ll have a great time, and it’ll be good for you to get away from your desk. You’ve been working so hard this term. You look tired and worn.”
“Was any of that meant to sound sympathetic?”
She cocks her head. “I was going for that, yes. Did I go too far?”
“Just a bit.”
Sal comes over in a flash of scarlet dress and long legs. “Nice blokes over there.” She plops down the drinks and gives the group at the bar a flirty wave. Then she settles down in her seat. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, the rest of the party. It’s going to be us three, plus my brother, Tom.”
“I’ve never met him,” Ivy tells me. She’s spacing her words out very precisely, as she always does when drunk.
“Lucky you. He’s lovely, but a complete wanknugget sometimes,” Sal says with the affectionate scorn of a sister. She starts to count off on her fingers. “Freddy’s coming. He’s one of Tom’s best friends, and you’ll love him. He’s awesome. There’s also Theo and Georgina. She’s my flatmate, and he’s her boyfriend.”
Ivy noisily sucks the last bit of her drink through her straw and then immediately picks up her next drink. If she doesn't slow down, I foresee an evening of holding her hair back while she hovers over the toilet.
Sal grins at me. “Then there’s Jack and Steven.”
“Ooh, I’ve met Jack. He’s lovely.” Ivy turns to me. “You’ll like him, Bee. I haven’t met his boyfriend Steven yet, though.”
“I can tell that,” Sal says, wrinkling her nose. “You still have your sanity intact.”
“Oh dear.” Ivy’s eyes widen in dismay.
“Ah, it’ll be great,” Sal says, waving her hand dismissively. “And if it isn’t, Edinburgh is a big city. I’m so glad you’re both coming.”
I grin at her. She’s incredibly charming and has a naughty air about her that I like.
She focuses on something in the distance and then waves.
I turn in my chair to see two men walking towards us. They’re bundled up in coats and already attracting attention because they’re very attractive. The dark-haired man has warm brown eyes and the perfect amount of stubble on his jaw. He has a sweet but slightly anxious expression and is holding hands with a blond man who’s smiling widely at us.
“Hey,” the blond man says. He loosens his grip on his boyfriend and extends his hand. “You must be Bee?” His voice is attractive, and his smile is very winning. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
I wipe my hand of the condensation from my glass and shake hands briefly. “Yes, that’s me. And this is Ivy.”
“I’m Steven.” He smiles at Ivy.
When Sal stands to hug his partner, Steven slides into her seat. “Just for a minute,” he says. "My feet are killing me. Jack forgot to order a taxi, so we had to walk miles from the restaurant.” His voice has a peevish edge.
The man who must be Jack turns around. He’s even more gorgeous up close. “Did I hear my name mentioned?” he says lightly, his chiselled jaw flexing.
Steven tsks. “It was a silly thing to do, Jack. You know it’s busy at this time of the year.” He gives him a loving, if still pained, smile. “It’s not like you to be so scattered. You’ll remember better next time.”
Jack’s eyes narrow, but then, obviously being polite in front of the strangers, he shrugs affably.
Sal directs a cool look at Steven and hugs Jack. “Or alternatively, we’ll get you so pissed you can’t even remember your own name.” She adds a few mumbled words that sound like, “Or who you’re sleeping with,” but a burst of laughter at the next table drowns her out.
Steven glances at the laughing women as he removes his coat and smooths it neatly over his knees. He makes a moue of distaste. “I can’t stand drunk women.”
He looks around for support but doesn’t get any, so he directs his gaze back at me. “So, Sal says you’re very clever.”
“I do my best.”
“Well, having some intelligent company on this trip will be nice. The Wrights are…” He waggles his hand. The gesture could mean anything from “they’re stupid” to “they’re mass murderers.”
“Hmm,” I say, falling back on my catchall expression for department events and social interactions just like this.
Jack leans over. “Nice to meet you, Bee,” he says with a charming smile. “I’m getting a round. What does everyone want?”
I grin up at him. “I’m fine, thank you. I have someone getting me another drink.” I look for the redhead but can’t see him in the scrum around the bar.
The others give him their orders while Steven stays quiet. Jack smiles at him. “And for you?”
Steven rolls his eyes. “Only the same thing I’ve been drinking for the last four months, silly.”
“Is it hemlock?” Sal asks sweetly.
Luckily, Steven doesn’t seem to hear her. Jack’s lips twitch as he gives Sal a nudge. She guffaws.
“Come on, trouble. You can help,” he says affectionately.
They vanish into the queue, and Steven huffs as he looks after them. “It would be good if that particular friendship went away.”
“Do you mean Sal?” I say, astonished. “She’s lovely.”
“Oh, she’s very charming. Have you met the rest of the family?” I shake my head, and he leans forward confidingly. “They’re all charming, but they’re a rackety bunch. Very loud and far too chaotic. Stoned all the time.” He mimes smoking a joint. “But Jack is ridiculously attached to Sal’s brother, Tom. They’ve been friends since primary school.”
I try to unpick that statement and look to Ivy for support, but she’s gone to the bar with Jack and Sal. She’s saying something that seems to require a great deal of gesticulation and laughter. Satisfied she’s okay, I turn back to Steven.
“Hmm,” I say again. I’m not very keen on bitchy people. It must show on my face because his expression changes.
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for,” he says contritely. “I’m nervous in social situations and just tend to blurt shit. Ignore me.”
I relax instantly, feeling a wave of empathy. “I’m exactly the same.”
“So, Sal says you’re doing your DPhil. What’s it in?” Steven smiles at me encouragingly.
“Oh, it’s in mathematics.”
“Fascinating. I work in telecommunications. We were working with a university last month. Very interesting.”
“Really?”
He starts to tell me something, but I can barely hear him over the noise. I catch sight of my redhead. He grins at me and grimaces at the packed bar where he’s still queuing. I tap my watch discreetly, and he signals that he’ll wait.
Satisfied that my late evening is sorted, I turn back to Steven. My plan is to give his monologue an encouraging nod, as I’d prefer not to talk, but his voice drifts off and his expression turns sour. Reminds me of when Scrooge took a turn down memory lane.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, staring at a point beyond me.
Before I can turn, Ivy darts over to me. “Supreme Hottie at ten o’clock,” she hisses.
I look in the direction she’s staring. “That’s not ten. It’s more like half past—” I abruptly forget what I was going to say. Something that rarely happens, but then it’s not every day I see the most beautiful man in the world moving towards us, and even better, his attention is on our table and… me. I swallow hard.
Thick, wavy, brown hair frames a chiselled face with full, pouty pink lips. He’s tall with legs that seem to go on forever and broad shoulders. His clothes don’t quite fit in with the bar’s party atmosphere, as he’s wearing heavy work boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt spattered with mud with a red plaid shirt flung over the top. However, he’s hotter than most blokes in their holiday best, and his walk backs it up. It’s a confident, loping stride, and he’s attracting appreciative looks that he seems oblivious to.
I sit up straight and offer him my patented pulling smile. It’s never failed me yet. His eyes assess me slowly, and I smile wider. My stomach falls as, instead of smiling back, he looks straight through me, his eyes flicking beyond me as if looking for a better option. It’s an utterly dismissive look, and I flush red in embarrassment.
Arrogant wanker, I think savagely.
I look around to see if anyone has spotted him bin me off, but everyone is talking loudly and laughing.
“Oi, tosser,” he says loudly, and conversation around us dims as a few people sit up for a better view of a potential fight.
“Pardon?” I squeak.
He waves a hand at me. “Not you,” he says, his tone matching that dismissive expression. “You,” he says, pointing at Steven.
“Hello, Tom,” Steven says with a distinct note of nervousness. “Good trip?”
Tom? My eyes grow big. This is Tom? The lovely person I keep hearing about is this rude, gorgeous twat?
I shift a little closer to Steven, ignoring my previous reservations about him. He obviously needs backup if he’s being confronted by this idiot. Steven shoots me a grateful look.
“Where’s my house key?” Tom grits out.
Steven’s eyes open wide. “What?”
Jack and Sal appear with handfuls of drinks. Jack’s face lights up when he sees Tom, despite Tom’s sulky twat expression. “Alright, Tom?” he says. “Have you just got back?”
“I have,” Tom says grimly. He gestures theatrically at his body. “And lo and forsooth, look at my party outfit. Now ask me why I’ve embraced lumberjack chic.” He puts his hands on his narrow hips. It makes the T-shirt ride up and I’m very cross with myself for noticing the sliver of yummy olive skin and the beginning of a very interesting V-line.
“Are you drunk already?” Jack asks.
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance,” Tom grits out. “I drove all the way back from fucking Northumbria and got home in good time to get changed and meet you all, only to find that I can’t get into our fucking house,” he grits out.
“Tom shares a house with Jack,” Ivy whispers to me helpfully.
“Thank you so much. I would never have guessed.” I wince as she pinches me.
“Why couldn’t you get in?” Jack frowns. “Have you lost your key?”
“Oh, not lost,” Tom says silkily. He points to Steven. “Twatface took it.”
“What?” Jack exclaims. “Surely not. How do you know that?”
“I never removed the key from my keyring. And, before I set off, I saw him fiddling with it. He’s been itching for a key to the house for ages.” He turns to Steven. “How the fuck dare you take my key without asking, you total knobhead.”
“Tom,” Jack says, wincing.
Steven sighs, and I pat his hand. Tom’s eyes narrow at the gesture, and I offer him a glare of my own, which makes him blink.
“Bully,” I mouth. He either doesn’t notice, or he chooses to dismiss me. Again.
I’d like to say I’m sticking up for the underdog, but I can’t for two reasons. Firstly, I suspect the underdog is probably at fault here, and more than likely Steven has a vicious bite of his own. Secondly, I know myself. I’m still smarting at Tom’s dismissive look. It brought back more than a few unpleasant memories of my adolescence.
“I needed a key,” Steven says defensively. “Jack never remembered to get one cut for me.” He glances reproachfully at Jack as if this is all his fault.
“How farsighted of Jack,” Sal breathes. She’s moved to stand next to her brother, her eyes bright with irritation.
Tom rolls his eyes and pats her hand. “Step down, psycho,” he murmurs.
She grins at him and kisses his cheek. “Glad you’re back,” she says and sits down on the arm of my chair.
Steven glares at Tom. “So, I borrowed your key. Is it really a big deal?”
“Yes. You took my key without asking for my permission. And I’ll take a wild guess that you had a copy made and never asked your boyfriend about it.”
Steven settles back in his seat and crosses his legs nonchalantly. “You can have it back,” he says sweetly.
“You bet I can. Now.” He snaps his fingers and holds out his hand.
Steven huffs, reaches into his pocket, and then drops two keys into his palm. “Happy now?”
“Are you coming home with Jack tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Then no, I’m not.”
“Tom.” Jack sighs.
Tom grimaces. “I’m going home to get changed. Are you coming to the Stardust bar? The drinks are half price. Freddy’s already there.”
“I’m in,” Sal shouts.
Tom gives her a crooked smile that is not attractive at all—not one bit. I smile at Steven in solidarity, ignoring the peevish look on his face.
“What about staying here?” Jack asks. “You can get to know everyone and say hello.”
“No need,” Tom says cheerfully. “I can do that really quickly.” He looks around at us. “Hello, everyone,” he says with a charming air. “Coming to Stardust with us?”
Everyone smiles and choruses greetings at him. The next thing I know, they’re standing and gathering their coats. I glare at Tom and become even more irritated when he appears to miss my expression.
“Meet you at Stardust, then?” Tom says to Jack.
Jack shoots a look at his boyfriend, and Steven huffs. “Oh, don’t mind me.”
“Okay,” Tom says happily. “Come on, Jack,” he coaxes. “We can have a drink and let loose. We’ve broken up for the holidays, baby.”
Jack grins at him, his slightly anxious air completely gone. “Okay, then.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Steven stands and stomps off towards the toilets.
Tom claps Jack on the back. “I’ll leave you with that.”
“Thank you so much.”
Tom nods at us and walks away.
Ivy comes to stand next to me, and we watch him march out of the bar. I can’t help noticing the swell of his world-class arse.
Ivy looks at me. “Where’s your coat?”
“Where it was before the lord and master appeared. And coincidentally, where it’s staying.”
She blinks like a tiny drunken owl.
“I’m not coming,” I explain.
“What? Really?”
“Do you mind?” I ask. “Will you be okay?”
She waves a careless hand. “We’re going on to Sal’s afterwards, so I’ll get a taxi home from there. Why won’t you come, though? Is it Tom? You were glaring at him like he’d eaten the last Penguin in the biscuit tin.”
“He looks the type to do that.” I shrug. “He shows up and is appallingly rude, and then flashes a smile and expects everyone to follow him. What a complete twat,” I finish disapprovingly.
“Good-looking one, though.” She leans into me. “And we’re going away on holiday with him.”
“Well, hopefully, he’ll stay far enough away that you can stare at his face and be able to ignore his personality.”
“Oh, come off it. I can’t blame him for being cross.” She looks around to check Steven is out of earshot. “He’d got no right to take Tom’s key. He doesn’t pay rent in their house.”
“I’d lock Tom out if I lived with him. I’d lock him in a room in Outer Mongolia.”
She stares at me. “It’s not like you to be so judgemental, Bee.”
I shrug. “Men like that wind me up.”
“Maybe you’ll end up sharing with him,” she says slyly.
“Only if I was impossibly evil in a former life.” I smile at her. “Never mind,” I say, looking past her at the redhead. “I’ve got other fish to fry tonight, and if I play my cards right, I won’t have to speak to Tom at all while we’re away.”
Santa Maybe by Anna Martin
On the van’s windscreen, the rain turned heavier, steadier, thicker… and slowly morphed into sleet. Fantastic.
Not that the weather really made much difference to Connell. His rounds were his rounds, no matter what was going on outside. He liked it that way.
Connell parked in his usual space, at the top of Ennis Lane, underneath a tree that was huge and full in the summer and nothing more than sticks and spindles this time of year. It was easier to cover the three little cottages down the lane in one go, rather than trying to move the van each time, even when it was sleeting outside. This, too, was how he liked it.
He shouldered his bag, heavier than usual, but then, it was almost Christmas and the little old ladies that lived around here did love to send cards.
Connell stopped at Mrs. Lynch’s cottage first, shoving a dozen or more brightly coloured envelopes through the letterbox, before trudging over to Mrs. Kennedy’s and doing the same. Mrs. Kennedy had a parcel, too, but it was big enough to fit through the letterbox so he didn’t have to stop and ring the doorbell. That was a blessing too, since Mrs. Kennedy’s yappy little dog loved nothing more than going nuts every time he caught sight of Connell.
The last cottage was another five minute walk away, though this was rural Ireland and it wasn’t so unusual to have a distance between houses. The ground here was boggy, squishy underfoot, and Connell watched his step, not wanting to roll an ankle. Not at this time of year.
Traveller’s Rest Cottage was covered in wisteria, a climbing rose over the door, and a front step that had been well scrubbed in its lifetime. It was worn smooth, and Connell watched his step again as he knocked on the door.
Ever since the summer, there had been a steady stream of letters and parcels arriving at the cottage, though Connell had only caught a glimpse at its resident a few times. The guy seemed to be something of a recluse. Despite his regular postal deliveries, Connell had never seen any visitors coming or going.
The man was younger, too, than most residents of cottages around here, and that had given Connell something to think about. Most younger people sent emails, not letters, but most of what Connell dropped off at Traveller’s Rest had a hand-written envelope. It was strange.
It took a minute or so of standing outside in the cold before anyone answered the door, and Connell was on the verge of leaving a Sorry We Missed You! note when it swung open.
A very attractive man wearing pyjama bottoms and nothing else stood in the doorway, scratching his belly. For one split second, Connell’s heart stopped.
“Post,” he croaked.
“What?”
“I have your post.”
The man had dark, shaggy hair that hung past his shoulders and tattoos covering most of his pale, pale skin and, when Connell dared to look lower, one of those space boot casts on one foot.
“Thanks,” he said, reaching out a hand, and Connell almost tripped over his feet to pass over the first bundle of letters.
“Wait, there’s more,” Connell said, digging back into his bag for the next one.
“Fuck me,” he mumbled.
“You’ve got a lot.”
“What?”
“Of post.”
“Ah. Yeah.” The man accepted the second bundle of letters and then stared at Connell with incredibly intense, deep brown eyes.
Connell cleared his throat. “Well. Bye.”
He really did trip over his feet as he made his way back up the path, but managed to stay upright by clinging to a hedge. At the top of the path he turned left, back towards the van, and was more than a little surprised to see the very handsome man still standing in the doorway, watching him leave.
Once Upon a Second Chance by Davidson King
Chapter One
Daniel
The alarm blared at six a.m., as it had every morning of my adult life… maybe even before then. I really should have simply retired the thing since my internal clock always woke me ten minutes early.
I pulled the covers off my body, sighed, and sat up. Through my bedroom window, I could see the gray sky foreshadowing the upcoming storm. The weather stations were all saying it was going to be a doozy, and I wanted to be sure my businesses in town were secure so I wouldn’t have to stumble out into the snow later in the evening.
My morning routine was muscle memory at this point. After a quick stop to the bathroom, I went downstairs, where coffee awaited me. I fixed it the way I liked it and prepared for the day, which included setting up beef stew in my slow cooker.
At forty-five, the cold weather was beginning to get to me. My bones ached from the breeze alone as soon as I opened the front door. We got all four seasons here in Everlasting Springs, so enduring the winter months was par for the course.
It was mornings like this I was happy my Mercedes had heated seats.
The roads were clear— thankfully, the last snowfall we’d had was over a week ago. First stop was Laverton’s Grocers. I’d grab a few essentials and check on the staff while I was there.
“Good morning, Mr. Laverton,” Gracie, one of the cashiers, greeted me as I entered.
“Morning, Gracie. Are you all set for the storm?”
“Oh, yes. John got the firewood in last night, and we’re stocked up. I just need to pick up some gas for the generator on my way home.”
I nodded. “Very good, say hi to John for me.”
I moved through the store, grabbing all I needed, smiling at the little Christmas stocking stuffers on the endcaps. I stopped at the door marked Manager, and knocked.
“Mr. Laverton, morning.” Gary was the store manager, and he did a damn fine job. He was in his late thirties with light-blond hair and the kind of face that put you at ease the moment he graced you with his pearly whites.
“Hey, Gary. Just popping in to see if everything was good to go before the storm.”
“We’re great. I’m closing the store an hour earlier like you suggested to make sure the staff all gets home.”
“Perfect, and if you see the storm starting to roll in early, close up.”
“You got it.”
Once I’d completed my grocery store run, I stopped at Laverton’s Hardware followed by Laverton’s Diner… yeah, my family had built this town, as evidenced by the names on a lot of the stores and restaurants.
Sometimes it made me itch to see my name on so many buildings, but I’d mentioned that to my accountant, who also lived in Everlasting Springs, and he’d said it was actually a comfort to see every day, that it felt like the town was looked after. So, I kept the names.
My housekeeper and cook were always given a few weeks off for the holidays and with the impending storm, I’d simply extended their vacations. Even so, they’d still prepared some meals for me and stored them in the freezer, but I also knew how to cook, so I wanted to make sure I had everything else I might need and once I did, I made the trek back to my house.
I lived in a rather big house. I didn’t need all the space, but honestly, it was just how I was raised so it might be huge, but it was home.
It was a three-story, colonial-style mansion originally built by my great-great-grandfather.… Well, he’d designed it, anyway. The brick façade featured a stately columned portico; dormer and Palladian windows; and one of my favorite places to relax in the warmer months, the second-story veranda. With Christmas only two weeks away, the lights and wreaths adorning the property made my home even more beautiful.
Through the years it had been upgraded. I’d had an elevator put in, which made it easier when my mother visited as she adored the veranda as well. It had a southern charm in a northeastern area.
Once my car was in the garage, I carried my bags into the house, removed my winter coat, turned my Christmas tree lights on, and put everything away. The house smelled heavenly as the aroma of the stew permeated the air.
A gentle brush against my leg brought a smile to my face, and I looked down to where my roommate, a.k.a. cat, was rubbing against my leg.
“Well, hello, Mayhem.” I kneeled and scratched her head and chin. She plopped to the side— clearly standing so long was taxing— and I caressed her silky fur.
Mayhem was a tortie. Dark brown, blond, orange, and white kaleidoscope of fur made her the prettiest cat ever. I’d never really wanted a pet, but when Beth over at the animal shelter said there was a runt kitten and no one wanted her, my heart had cracked a little and I’d offered to foster her since they were running out of space. That was a year and a half ago, and now she was mine.
“Yes, I got food for you, your favorite treats, and made sure I had enough litter for your litter box.”
She batted at my hands and gave me playful nibbles. She was the company I needed during the times loneliness became too much.
I had family, but my sister was in California with her husband and my nephew. She’d moved there two years ago, the moment a huge opportunity was offered to Frank, her husband. My father had passed away of a heart attack five years ago, and my mother found being in Everlasting Springs to be too hard for her. She’d moved with my aunt to Florida, relishing the warmer weather.
There’d always been a Laverton living in Everlasting Springs and while I could have relocated closer to my sister or mother, I wanted to be here. The townsfolk were like family, and at the end of the day, it was home.
Her ears must’ve been burning, because a second later, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from my sister.
“Well, hello, Katherine.”
“Why do you say my name like that?”
I chuckled. “I was just thinking about you, and you called. I always knew you were a witch.”
“Har-har. I was thinking about you; I see that storm coming in on the news. They say it’s gonna be rough.”
“Aww, are you worried about your big brother?”
She snorted. “No, but that house has been in our family for generations. I want to secure my son’s future.”
I knew she was kidding. While we were all very well-off, our parents had raised us not to let money become who we were. Kate stayed at home with my thirteen-year-old nephew, Josh, and helped me remotely from her house. Frank was a doctor… well, a surgeon— pediatric cardiology, and I was certain Josh was financially secure.
“Your son? What if I have a child someday?”
That got her laughing. “You’d have to actually date people to make that happen. Well, I mean, even if you found someone, a man can’t have the baby, so actually, yeah, why not find a surrogate?”
“Wow, okay, this conversation went to weird places. I only just got comfortable having a cat.”
“Mmhmm. Look, you’re forty-five. Ticktock, big bro.”
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me. I got this every so often from her and my mom. They didn’t want me to be lonely, thought I should have a family. They’d never cared that I was gay; they even embraced it. But I knew pretty much everyone in Everlasting Springs. The pool wasn’t that big.
“I really love these tender calls we share, Kate.”
“Blah, blah. Okay, I gotta get Josh off to practice. Stay safe, text to keep me updated. Love you, jerkface.”
“Love you too, butthead.”
I disconnected the call, and Mayhem meowed.
“Okay, sweetie, let’s get you fed.”
Naughty Elf: Shimmersnap by Jena Wade
Chapter 1
Shimmersnap
“And just a splash of sparkle there, and some purple glitter over here. Hmm.” I eyed my creation. “Less plum and more mulberry jam. Okay, it’s perfect… or maybe just a teensy, tiny bit more pink glitter.” I snapped my fingers. “There! Now it’s perfect.” I held up the toy. “What do you think of this, Glister?”
My coworker turned, their usually bright, cheerful face and rosy cheeks settling into a frown. They winced. “Shimmersnap, that’s a baseball bat. It didn’t need any glitter.”
“No glitter?” I felt the sparkle inside of me dull. “Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt though, right?” Everyone needed glitter in their life. It was boring without it. A plain woodgrain bat? Everyone had those. This one was unique and gorgeous. Any child would be lucky to get this in their stocking.
They rolled their eyes and turned away.
I assumed the toy was just fine and sent it down the belt.
Another toy complete, and now I could get started on the next one. It might be January, but we were always getting prepared for Christmas. Only three hundred and forty-three more days. That was a lot of toys to glitterize!
“Shimmersnap!” the booming voice of our supervisor called out from his office.
I worked in the warehouse for Santa #56. It was perfect. I had thought I loved working for Santa #48, but this one was way better. I’d only been with Santa #48 for a few short weeks— after the glitter incident involving the reindeer and Santa’s favorite suit, I decided I better relocate. I also had done a short stint with Santa #36, but he really didn’t like me or maybe it was because of the bedazzling… I went through a short five-year stint where I thought everything needed shiny gems. I was over that now though, I recognized that only some things needed gems, but all things needed glitter. I’d been here for two years now, and it was wonderful—even if I was slightly more shiny than the rest of my coworkers.
I leapt to my feet and popped into my supervisor’s office. Not all elves had the magic needed to pop in and out of places, but I could. It was the best. Almost as great as when they released cosmic-grade blue thirty-seven glitter!
“You called, sir?” I put my hands behind my back, smiling brightly. Oh, his office was just so dull. Sure, there was Christmas everywhere—garland and colorful globes covered every corner of the room—but there was no pizzazz, no sparkle, no glitter.
I snapped my fingers, and a touch of glitter sparkled through the room, illuminating.
“Oh,” he groaned. “Shimmersnap, there’s no easy way to say this, and I hope to all things Christmas you aren’t surprised, but… you’re fired.”
I stumbled back. “Fired? From the toy department? What new department will I be at? I can go back to being with the bakery.” Although, I had been banned from there when I mixed up my edible glitter with the non-edible. No one had gotten sick, though! They just had very shiny… um… results from eating the non-edible glitter.
“You’re fired from the whole North Pole. You just made a baseball bat out of glitter and sparkle. The minute that hits a baseball, it’s going to be useless.”
“But it shines!” I protested.
His face softened. “Not everything is supposed to shine, dear.”
I waited for the punchline, for him to tell me he was joking. “Of course it was! I can do better,” I said quickly. “Maybe toy-making isn’t my strong suit…”
This wasn’t the first time I had received that feedback. Apparently, coating all toys with glitter wasn’t exactly what the boys and girls of the world wanted. It was just what I wanted. But I knew there were kids out there who loved glitter and sparkle! There had to be!
“The decision’s been made,” he said. “It’s come from above. Not only are you fired, but we think it’s time for you to find where your place truly is in the world. Perhaps settle down with a mate. The right alpha to help make you less…”
I bristled at that. I didn’t need to be less anything. “What? My place is here! At the North Pole! With the other elves.”
“We think you might be better suited someplace else.” Despite his words, his face was kind. He wasn’t being deliberately cruel, just that’s how it was all coming out.
All elves lived at the North Pole. Mostly. There were exceptions, but I wasn’t one of them! I had never been anywhere else. “Where else is there?”
“That’s for you to find out,” he said.
My stomach lurched. “So you’re just going to abandon me? Throw me out in the cold? You can’t do that.” They probably could. There wasn’t a whole lot that the fleet of Santas couldn’t do.
“No, no, no. We’re giving you a chance to take a break. Regroup. Then you’ll find your place. There’s a time limit on it though, Shimmersnap. And there will be consequences if you don’t accomplish the goal before next Christmas.”
“What? What is my goal?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do they rely on me to give this kind of information? I am not cut out for this.”
I’ll say. If this man was going for soothing and encouraging, he was failing miserably.
“You’re being sent to live with humans in a place called Bland, Michigan.”
Michigan. I knew that was the state shaped like a mitten. I always thought it was kind of cute. I loved the way the lakes around there glistened and shined. I almost wanted to add glitter to them. I had tried to once, but of course, I was stopped.
I didn’t really love the whole “Bland” idea, but surely that was just the name and not the personality.
“Where am I going to go?” I asked.
“Now, this might sound scary, but just trust me on it. We’re going to turn you into a statue and put you somewhere that your mate can find you. You aren’t unique in this either, Shimmersnap. There are several other elves on the naughty list who are getting the same sort of treatment. With a few variations.”
“A statue?” I had heard, of course, of other elves being turned into statues. It was always punishment, though, for those that were bad boys and girls. I hadn’t been bad. All I wanted to do was make the world sparkle.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be there long. We have plans to make sure that you make it into the hands of a very special person. Your human mate.”
I got excited at that. I thought humans were fun. “Is it going to be one of those exciting ones? Maybe one that, like, has a real cool job and does awesome things? Sequins are all the rage these days thanks to that Taylor Swift. Will I be with one of those humans? Maybe one of her backup dancers?”
“No, this human is a bit different than you.”
“Well, yeah, all humans are different than me. I’m an elf. How different?”
“He does taxes for a living.”
My eyes bulged. I thought for a moment they’d fall out of their sockets. “Taxes? But that’s numbers and math and ledgers and balance and... boring. That’s absolutely boring! You can’t send me there! There has to be some mistake! He and I will have nothing in common.”
“We can, and we are. We’re going to arrange for your items to go in storage with Dancer. You remember him, right?”
I nodded. He was one of the reindeer I had worked with in the past. He was a close friend of mine. He knew about this? He was behind this?
My supervisor patted my shoulder. “Trust us, Shimmersnap. It’s better this way.”
How could it possibly be better this way? Right then, at that moment, my sparkle became a dull glow, almost entirely extinguished. Not even glitter was going to make this situation better.
The Map Home by Elle Keaton
ONE
Dakota
Summer, eleven years ago.
A flash of lightning illuminated the tiny space for less than a single heartbeat, a blinding juxtaposition to the dark it briefly displaced. The light almost hurt, and he squinted against it even after it was gone. For the briefest of moments, the cobwebs and ancient wooden storage boxes stacked against one wall had been visible, but now he was in the black again, shivering as he blinked away the fading tracers.
With no discernible pause, the trailing thunder cracked so loud and close that Dakota figured the massive storm must be right overhead and aiming its roiling clouds of anger directly at him. The sharp yet oddly clean scent of ozone wafted into his hideout. He wrapped his arms around himself and wished he had a better jacket, or at least a coat that fit.
He wasn’t scared, he told himself. It was just a storm. It would pass. Tad said no one ever came out here, that his parents wouldn’t find Dakota. That they’d have time to figure something out.
The almost ever-present Wyoming wind was blowing the storm and clouds east, out over the plains of the Midwest. Even though he was cold and maybe a bit scared—a lot scared—Dakota hitched up onto his knees to better watch what he could see of the storm out the window of the hut. There was no windowpane—the only protection Dakota had from the wind and rain was the flimsy rotting roof over his head and a few boards that passed for walls.
Lightning flashed again, throwing the landscape into weird contrast, creating monsters where logically he knew there were none. The distant stand of evergreens seemed to be crawling down the mountainside to take back the land that had been theirs eons before. It reminded him of a painting he’d seen in a book once, and Dakota shuddered again.
“Dakota, are you in there?”
Dakota jumped but managed to stifle his gasp—it was only Tad.
He squeezed his eyes shut once more, as if the act might make him invisible to the human eye. To Tad’s eye. Trying not to make a sound that would be heard over the wind and rain, he moved away from the window and considered not answering. Maybe Tad would think he’d finally got up the courage to leave. Tad thought he could stay on the ranch, but Dakota knew the Gillespies would never let him hang around. No one wanted a kid like him.
He was tall for his age. Maybe someone would think Dakota was eighteen and he could get a no-questions-asked job mucking out stalls somewhere. At a different ranch, where they didn’t know a mother had left her son behind.
Over the past week, it had become abundantly clear that his mother wasn’t planning to return to her job as a cook for the G-Bar Ranch. Once they’d figured that out, Tad had taken Dakota to an unused shed far from the house, and he’d been hiding here until he got up the guts to leave.
Eighteen was the magic number. Just four years and he’d be an adult. He had no family—or at least none his mother had told him about—and foster care was not an option. He knew how it worked—no family would want a kid his age. He’d be shuffled around until he was considered an adult and then released into the wild left to fend for himself, so why not just start now?
So yeah. No foster care for him.
At least Ana had left some food behind when she’d gone to meet up with a “friend,” but his stash of bread and peanut butter was getting dangerously low. He should have known when she threw a small duffle bag in the back of her car and gave him a hug before climbing into the driver’s seat that she wasn’t coming back.
Growing up, Dakota sometimes had wondered if she was glad she had a son. He figured he knew the answer now.
“Dakota, I know you’re in there,” Tad whispered, louder this time, poking his head inside the open window frame.
“If you know I’m still in here, why are you asking me if I’m here?” Dakota rose to his feet, automatically wiping the dirt and old straw off his ass.
“It’s the polite thing to do. Like warning someone in case you scare them.”
“You scared me anyway,” Dakota informed him.
“I didn’t mean to. Um, hang on, this pack is heavy.” Tad shrugged a large weather-beaten backpack off his shoulders. “Mom made lasagna. Don’t worry, she’ll think Boone ate it all. She’s always going on about his appetite.”
Dakota’s stomach clenched with hunger as his mouth automatically started to water. He was hungry, and peanut butter and white bread were no match for Mrs. Gillespie’s lasagna.
Only a few weeks ago, Tad had invited Dakota to dinner at the big house with the rest of his family. At first, he’d felt weird sitting at the dining room table with Tad’s parents and older brother, but Tad’s parents had seemed okay and Boone and Dakota had pretty much ignored each other.
“I should just go,” Dakota said before Tad once again started to try and convince him to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie. Telling his stomach it wouldn’t be getting lasagna, he bent down to grab his backpack. Aside from the peanut butter and bread, he’d stuffed some of his clothes inside, along with a spiral notebook. He was one of the only kids he knew with no cell phone or tablet. He always had to use what the school offered and had gotten used to writing stuff down. And printing things out, like the bus schedule he’d tucked into his backpack.
“Dakota,” Tad said a third time.
“What?” Dakota replied, exasperated now. “I’m leaving.” He hitched the pack onto his shoulder.
“No! You can’t go! We have a pact.” Tad moved around the nearly nonexistent wall and almost inside the hut, partially blocking the door.
Lightning sparked again, farther away, but it was easy to imagine he saw odd shadows in the distance. Dakota shook off the thought; no one but Tad would be out in this weather.
“You can’t go,” Tad said again.
“I can’t keep staying here. Your parents or someone else will figure it out. I’ll just walk into town and catch a bus somewhere.”
Thunder grumbled, far away now, and a bolt of lightning illuminated distant hills. Again Dakota thought he saw something but couldn’t make out what it might be. Probably a tree.
“Stay here,” Tad said fiercely. “I’ll figure out a way to ask my parents if you can stay with us.”
Suddenly tired, Dakota slumped against a rickety wall. “They’re not going to say yes. You know that.”
“No, I don’t. I know you think they’re like—like other people, but they’re not. Move out of my way and let me get inside.”
Reluctantly, Dakota moved aside, realizing he’d been the one blocking the door, not Tad. He was tired and scared and hungry. It was literally the dark of the night and Dakota had nowhere to go. If it hadn’t been for Tad, he would probably have been on a bus to Cheyenne by now or somewhere else far from the ranch. But Tad had made him promise he wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye, and as scared as he was, Dakota wouldn’t go back on his word.
The shadows moved. He knew he hadn’t imagined anything. There was someone or someones out there, and they were approaching the decrepit shepherd’s hut.
“Tad, what did you do?” Dakota demanded, his nostrils flaring. “Did you tell your parents?”
Panic rose quickly, overwhelming him. He had to get out of there now. He should have known better than to trust a rich ranch kid who had everything and never worried where he was going to sleep at night or if his mother was coming home.
Shoving Tad out of his way, Dakota stumbled out into the night, his only thought to get far away from the hut and the Gillespie family. However, before he made it ten feet, a strong hand gripped his arm, forcing him to a stop.
“Son,” Mr. Gillespie said, keeping a tight hold on Dakota.
He thrashed but couldn’t break free. Waylon Gillespie was a big, strong man used to holding down livestock and splitting cords of wood. Dakota was a too-skinny kid, hungry and tired from hiding out in the rover’s hut.
“Let me go!” His face was wet, and not just from the rain. He tasted salt from his tears as they dripped into his mouth. “No! I won’t go to a home, I won’t,” he shouted. “I’ll run away!”
“Dakota”—another voice, this one Penny Gillespie’s—“we’re not calling anyone. We promise.”
“Promise is just a stupid word, doesn’t mean shit. Everyone makes promises,” Dakota cried, struggling even harder. The stupid tears streaming down his face mixed with the snot running from his nose as he fought to drag in big panting gulps of air. “Let go, get away from me!”
Mr. Gillespie released his arm and in a swift movement wrapped his strong arms around Dakota instead, making it even more impossible for him to escape. He tried anyway, thrashing back and forth as hard as he could, yelling at the top of his lungs. A roaring in Dakota’s ears blocked out all sound. He’d become pure reaction, a shooting star falling to the earth.
He needed to get away, to escape, to explode.
“Dakota, Dakota, stop.” Tad’s panicked agitation broke through the roaring. “They’re saying they won’t tell anyone. They mean it, right, Dad?” Tad had so much hope in his voice. “You can stay. Mom says she can figure it out.”
It had to be a trick.
“It doesn’t work like that!” Dakota shouted, trying again to break free from Mr. Gillespie’s bear hug. He was soaked to the skin—they all were. The freezing rain poured down in relentless sheets. Somewhere in the valley, a river was reaching maximum capacity. Just like Dakota.
“Son,” Mr. Gillespie repeated, his tone gentle but firm in Dakota’s ear, “please calm down. Tad didn’t tell us anything. You’re not going anywhere. We’ve got your back.”
Dakota automatically kept struggling for a moment before the words made their way into his brain and reassembled into something that made sense. Not going anywhere?
“What?” He stopped trying to pull away. He was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding against his ribs. “How did you figure out that I was here, then?”
When Ana had left, she’d told Dakota to make himself scarce until she got back as she wasn’t supposed to leave him behind. But she also hadn’t made arrangements for him to be anywhere else. He and Tad thought his parents assumed he’d gone with her.
“We noticed food was missing—not a problem.” Mr. Gillespie released him. “If you’re hungry, you need to eat. But Penny assumed it was Boone and when she asked him about it, he told us he’d seen Tad sneaking off. We put two and two together.”
Mr. Gillespie glanced over at his anxious-looking son. “You should have come to us in the beginning, Tad. There was no need to hide this from us. But we understand why you did. Come on, Dakota, let’s get you back home, somewhere warm.” Mr. Gillespie wrinkled his nose. “And maybe showered and cleaned up a bit. Then we’ll all sit down together and find out what’s going on from your perspective.”
Dakota was doing his best to believe what he was hearing, but at the same time, he was pissed off that it had been Boone who’d given him away.
Fucking Boone.
“A hot meal first,” added Mrs. Gillespie, interrupting Dakota’s thoughts.
“A hot meal first,” Mr. Gillespie agreed. “And a shower. Then we’ll can talk about how we might solve this little problem.”
Dakota wasn’t so sheltered that he didn’t know the Gillespies were supposed to report an abandoned minor. He was Ana’s kid, after all, not their own. So why would they want to help him? They had two kids of their own and a massive ranch to keep in order.
“You can trust them. They promised they won’t call anyone,” Tad added pathetically.
“How about it?” said Mr. Gillespie. “Penny has more lasagna in the oven, smells delicious.”
The mention of food that wasn’t peanut butter made Dakota’s stomach rumble so loudly they all heard it in the brief silence between cracks of thunder.
“Please, Dakota?”
Even in the dark, Dakota knew Tad was staring at him, his eyes wide, anxious, practically begging him to agree.
“Okay, I guess. For now.”
He made a promise to himself then and there that he’d take off if things went sideways. He’d keep his go-bag packed and ready to go, keep updating the bus schedules in his notebook.
Dakota Green would never take anything for granted again.
Lily is a bestselling gay romance author. She writes love stories filled with heat and humour.
She lives in sunny England with her husband and two children, all of whom claim that they haven't had a proper conversation with her since she got her Kindle.
Lily has spent her life with her head full of daydreams, and decided one day to just sit down and start writing about them. In the process she discovered that she actually loved writing, because how else would she get to spend her time with hot and funny men?
She loves chocolate and Baileys and the best of all creations - Chocolate Baileys!
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.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
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.
Do you love inclusive, swoony, and often suspenseful small-town romances featuring complex characters and a unique sense of place? I do too! My characters start out broken and, maybe, they’re still a tad banged up by the end, but they find the other half of their hearts and ALWAYS get their happily ever after.
In 2017 I pressed the Publish button for the first time and have never looked back—making this the longest period of time I've stuck with a job in my entire life.
Currently, there are over thirty Elle Keaton books available for you to read or listen to. I love cats and dogs. Star Wars and Star Trek. Pineapple on pizza, and have a cribbage habit my husband encourages.
Connecting with readers is very important to me. If you are so inclined, join The Highway to Elle newsletter, and keep up to date with everything Elle-related (or join my Ream page and get in on the novels early plus swag and extras). Random topics Include, but not limited to, ‘where are Elle's glasses?' and, ‘why are there cats?’. I can also be found on Facebook, Instagram, and occasionally TikTok.
Lily Morton
EMAIL: lilymorton1@outlook.com
Anna Martin
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
On Circus Lane by Lily Morton
Santa Maybe by Anna Martin
Once Upon a Second Chance by Davidson King
Naughty Elf: Shimmersnap by Jena Wade
The Map Home by Elle Keaton
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