Summary:
Season Three #4
A magical evening celebrating the upcoming Valentine’s Day and raising money for charity ends—before it begins—with something unexpected.
Alpha Dash is looking forward to attending a charity auction. Valentine’s Day is for romance, roses, and chocolates, and as Dash is a romantic at heart, he’s hoping to meet someone special at the event. He treats himself to chocolate, but his dog, Biscuit, polishes off the entire box and is promptly ill, leaving Dash to make a mad dash—oops—to the vet.
Avery loves to cook, and the omega is making rocky road candy for a charity auction that benefits the local children’s hospital. But as he whips up a batch of marshmallow, he’s distracted and his dog, Cookie, knocks over a bowl. As his pet resembles a sticky Christmas ornament, he panics and heads to the vet, hoping they can get rid of the gooey candy that’s stuck to poor Cookie’s head.
With both alpha and omega dressed in a tux but with nowhere to go except a vet’s waiting room, the pair strike up a conversation.
Marshmallow Madness is the fourth book in the Bake Sale Bachelors Season Three series. It features an alpha yearning for romance, an omega who’s a better cook than he thinks he is, two adorable dogs that you’ll fall in love with at first read, a cute baby, and a Valentine’s Day filled with flowers, candy, and love.
Summary:
Season Three #5
An alpha no omega would want…
Jace has no desire to date; after all, what good is an alpha who can barely afford to take care of himself, let alone a mate? Maybe someday – when he gets his finances under control – he’ll find that special omega.
Despite his money troubles, Jace wants to give back to the hospital, but all he can do is supply something for the bake sale auction. In order to avoid an awkward cheap date with an omega, he agrees to make his popular maple sugar candy, but only under the condition that his friend bids for the item. Jace helps and doesn’t have to go on a date; problem solved. But he never expected someone to outbid his friend…
An omega who can do it alone…
Omega Ashton is thrilled to donate to the hospital that saved him and his daughter. When he sees the maple sugar candy – just like his grandmother used to make – he has to have it, luckily, money is no object; the only downside is the unwanted date that comes with it.
Ashton is so over alphaholes who date him for his money but also feel threatened by it. Worse than the ones who break his heart are the ones he trusts enough to introduce to his daughter, only to have them leave too. No more. Ashton is finished with dating.
Once on the date, however, Ashton and Jace can’t deny the chemistry between them. But will Jace’s insecurity over his financial situation be an all too familiar red flag for Ashton? Throw in some unexpected ice and a broken ankle and you have a recipe for a love story sweeter than candy.
Maple Sugar Mix-Up is an M/M mpreg romance in the Bake Sale Bachelors series. Each one can be read as a standalone. In this book you’ll find an alpha learning he’s worth more than what’s in his bank account, an omega doing his best as a single dad, and the surprise baby who brings them together. If you love books that are sweet with heat and full of characters who you’ll laugh and love with, get Maple Sugar Mix-Up today.
I'm still fairly new to the omegaverse so my experience is limited for comparisons but I've loved everything so far and Maple Sugar Mix-Up is no different. Perhaps a bit different as Kallie Frost is also a new-to-me author so in a way Maple is doubly fresh and exciting.
One thing that was completely new to me(and again limited experience here😉) was the role reversal of financial and status structure in this novella. Completely polar opposites of what one tends to think of when dealing with alpha/omega pairings. I can understand Ashton and Jace's hesitancies due to the whole station-in-life labeling. The emotions behind Ashton and Jace's scenario adds a lovely hint of realism to an already entertaining and delicious blend of fiction and fantasy.
Maple Sugar Mix-Up is a delightful novella that warms the heart, soothes your soul, and put a giggle or two on your face.
**Blogger Note: Unfortunately I only time to read this entry but it lead me to place the entire season made it to my #TBRList.**
Season Three #6
I don’t believe in Valentine’s Day, only having fun. Will a honey-sweet, never-been-kissed alpha change everything for me?
Omega Chris Chalmers is a pediatric surgeon who travels the nation saving young lives. His job is his passion. He has fun with alphas when he wants to, but it’s just that; fun. He’s never made time for love. When a friend drags him to a charity auction, he can’t resist a unique treat that comes with a unique date. It turns out the unique alpha is as sweet as honey. Chris wasn’t planning to open up to anyone. He wasn’t planning on starting a family either. Oops? What happens when he decides to give a different kind of alpha a chance?
Alpha Teddy Behrens is a pediatric nurse who loves his job, but something’s missing in his life; someone for him to love. The problem? He’s never been in a relationship, never been in love, never done anything, you know, behind closed doors. Who wants an alpha who’s gone his whole life without even being kissed? When he stands in for a coworker at a bachelor auction he hopes against hope that something will come of it, especially since he keeps hearing about the amazing Dr. Chalmers. A sweet four-year-old patient demands a baby from them both. What are the chances Dr. Chalmers even show up?Everything, and everyone, seems to conspire to bring them together. When their worlds collide, can a Valentine’s Day miracle happen?
Can Chris open himself to love? Can Teddy believe that he deserves love, even though he’s shy and inexperienced? Will the young patient get her baby?
This is the sixth book in the Bake Sale Bachelors series, Season Three, but it can be read as a standalone. This book has a HEA and contains occasional strong language, MPREG, and hot, spicy grownup stuff. The omegas are heating up and the alphas are very knotty boys. Get a FREE short story when you join the newsletter family!
Marshmallow Mindness by Colbie Dunbar
1
AVERY
“What’s wrong, Cookie?”
My dog loved going for walks, but today, she was less than enthusiastic. And while I couldn’t read her mind, I had a pretty good idea of why she wasn't enjoying being outside. Sure, it was cold. Really cold, but we didn’t hang around and wait for the wind to bite our asses. We jogged, and even with the wind blasting, there were frequent stops while Cookie searched for what I thought of as treasure.
Instead of being interested in what was outside our home, she was pining for the special treats I’d been making. Not dog treats, and she definitely wouldn’t be getting so much as a lick, because the sugary concoctions I was making were toothachey for humans and far too sweet for Cookie. That was kind of ironic considering her name. Besides, she’d already finagled more than her fair share of doggy treats today.
“We’ll go home, but you're not getting any of the candy.”
Tonight was the big event. And by that I meant the fundraiser for the local children’s hospital. The creative way the organizers had come up with getting as many donations as possible was to make it an auction. A bachelor auction.
The bachelors presented a plate of Valentine-themed goodies on stage anonymously, though Valentine’s Day wasn’t until next week. Each plate was numbered and accompanied by a note with the name of the baked goods plus the person’s designation and the suggested date. The highest bidder won the right to go out with the bachelor.
It was a fun way to increase donations and maybe matchmake a few of the single alphas and omegas who were looking for someone special. I was one of the bachelors, and while I hoped to raise as much money as possible, I had my heart set on meeting a sexy alpha bachelor.
While I didn’t need or want to be whisked off my feet—this was real life, not a fairytale, and I was more likely to take the lead in a relationship—I was ready for romance. It’d been a while since I’d been in a relationship. Not because I’d been emotionally scarred—I was still in casual contact with some of the guys I’d been with—but I’d always put other things ahead of love. Education, finding a good job, building a career, and saving for the future.
My family suggested I wasn’t looking for commitment, though I disagreed. But with a secure job and my own home—along with a hefty mortgage—my focus had done an about-turn, and I looked fondly at coupled up alphas and omegas.
I envisioned winter nights sipping wine by the fire, picnics on summer afternoons, vacations to places we’d never been, us making dinner together, and taking Cookie for walks.
Though all of those items came with a flip side. Wet towels on the floor, dirty dishes in the sink, and hair clogging the drain. Ewww. Maybe a fairytale was what I was after, and in that case, I’d be disappointed.
Now that we’d turned around, Cookie’s dawdling became a gallop. “Not so fast,” I panted as she yanked on her leash and tore up the garden path. This was a turnaround. Usually when it was time to come home, no matter what the weather, Cookie would lie down and play dead.
Passersby had put her photo on social media numerous times with the hashtag cookieplayingdead and she got plenty of attention when we went to the vet, with pet owners taking selfies with her. My sister had even created a Cookie social media account.
I had everything ready for the rocky road candy I was making for tonight. I’d made the marshmallow yesterday and cut up the Turkish Delight and chopped the nuts. Traditionally, rocky road should have peanuts, but I was wary about people suffering from peanut allergies, so I chose cashews instead.
All I had to do was melt the chocolate, cut up the marshmallow base, mix everything, put it in a tin, refrigerate for an hour, and I’d be done. Most of the rocky road would be for friends and family, but I’d cut a few slices to take to the fundraiser.
“Don’t stare at me that way,” I said as I finished making the candy and put it in the fridge. Cookie was giving me a I’m a poor starving-dog look. “You’ve had too many snacks today.”
After tidying the kitchen, my plan was to shower and chill before getting ready. My tux was back from the dry cleaners and I was anticipating the evening ahead and eager to see who bid on what I’d made. There was an element of fear, though, because what if no one did? Despite the cold weather, the prospect of failure had me sweating.
But the phone ringing interrupted those gloomy thoughts. Mom! “Hi, sweetheart, am I too late?”
I rifled through my head for commitments and didn’t recall seeing my mother listed. I usually went to my parents' for Sunday brunch but had canceled tomorrow thinking I’d be tired after the charity do. In the back of my mind, I thought if I met a hottie alpha, we might fall into bed.
“Hi, Mom.”
“The marshmallow you’re making. I need some, angel.” My mother had a million different names for me and my siblings. All cutsie ones.
“No problem. There’s a whole tin in the fridge, as I didn’t use it all for the rocky road.”
“No, pumpkin. I need it soft and gooey because I’m making cupcakes with a marshmallow filling.” Damn, my mom was hopeless in the kitchen, and my family had endured years of kitchen failures. Not that she was aware of how bad a cook she was. She was such a loving mom, mate, and friend, and we hated to crush her spirits ‘cause she genuinely loved cooking.
“Mom, I’m done—” I bit off the rest of the sentence. My mother always stopped what she was doing when I needed her. Whether that was when I was growing up, at college, or now. It wouldn’t take me long to whip up a batch of marshmallow. “Come over in forty-five minutes.”
“Thank you, darling.” She blew me a kiss, the smoochy sound ratcheting up through the phone. It was her signature sign-off.
“Love you.”
I had all the ingredients and most were still sitting on the counter. After mixing the gelatin with water, I started on the syrup, and when that was done, I folded the gelatin into the sticky syrup and whisked it until it thickened.
“Mmmm.” I licked some off my finger. Cookie appeared in the corner of my eye, and judging by her expression, she wasn’t impressed I hadn’t given her a taste.
There was no sign of my mother so I used the time to race into the shower and get dressed. I’d originally planned on blow-drying my hair and putting on a moisturizing mask before I left. In the depths of winter, my skin was so dry it reminded me of a dusty desert. No time for self-care now.
As I wandered into the kitchen, I noted the bowl of marshmallow was missing. While Mom had a key to my house, she respected my privacy and usually rang the bell. Maybe I didn’t hear her. I rounded the corner of the kitchen island and headed to the fridge.
“Oh my gods! What is that?” A four-legged abominable snowman stood beside the upturned bowl of marshmallow. “Cookie! What have you done?” The gooey mixture had cooled while it was being whisked, so she hadn’t burned herself, but Cookie’s face, long dangling ears, and neck were covered in white fluffy tips. And she’d stood in it too. And maybe rolled in it, as she was covered from top to toe.
“You got the consistency right, honey. I see the soft peaks!”
“Mom!” Between my dog looking as though she’s had a fight with the Michelin Man and my mother sneaking up on me, my heart was working overtime. “I’m sorry, your cupcakes will have to wait. I need to get Cookie cleaned up.”
Poor baby. Her tail was down, and with her face coated in marshmallow, she wasn’t a happy camper as I squatted in front of her.
“I’ll bathe her. You go to the auction.”
But as Mom tried to grab my dog’s collar, my little four-legged girl lunged at me, tipping me backward. She landed on my chest and licked my face. Even her tongue was sticky and now I was too.
“Oh dear, your poor tux. Have you got another?”
My suit was ruined, and along with Cookie, I had marshmallow in my hair. “No.” Not only were my clothes a mess, but my evening out was in tatters. “I can’t go to the benefit because I need to take the dog to the groomers.” No way did I want to wash the trainwreck that was my dog.
“I’m sorry, sweetpea.” I briefly wondered how many names Mom had for me. Perhaps I should count them one day. “But I drove past the groomers this morning. They closed early today because they were going to the charity auction.”
Great! Everyone in town would be there. That was a slight exaggeration but I was feeling sorry for myself.
But as I studied the disaster that was my dog, not only did she need washing, she’d consumed an enormous amount of sugar, and I was worried she might need medical attention. Maybe I was overreacting, but she was my baby.
“The vet. They can check her out and maybe give her a bath at the same time.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but I doubt the vet has time to make Cookie look beautiful. You’ll have to bathe her and detangle that awful mess yourself.” With a wave, she headed for the door.
“Mom, wait.” I cut up a few slices of the prepared rocky road and put it in a container. “Can you drop this off at the hotel for the auction?” Maybe someone else could use it.” She agreed, saying she’d love to take a peek at the decorations.
Wanting the vet to check Cookie out, I bundled my dog up in an old towel and didn’t bother to change my tux but put a coat over the top, as it was snowing. Why not have one more item of clothing be a sticky mess?
Happy Almost Valentine’s Day to me!
Maple Sugar Mix-Up by Kallie Frost
Chapter One
Jace
The flyer caught my eye and I stopped to study it. A bake sale auction to benefit the children's wing of the hospital! Well, that sounded like a great cause.
While I was reading it my friend and co-worker – if you could consider our very different jobs as co-working – walked by.
“Hey Jace,” he said. “Gonna make something?”
“I think so, Paul,” I said, glancing at the flyer again.
“What are you going to do for the date?”
I double-checked the date of the auction. “It’s on February 14th,” I said.
Paul chucked. “No, the date.”
I looked at him in confusion.
“Read the fine print,” he suggested.
I turned back to the flyer. Sure enough, there was something I had missed; the auction wasn't just for baked goods, it was for a date with the baker.
“Oh,” I said in disappointment. Count me out of this one. “Nevermind.”
I readjusted the way I was carrying my armload of medical files and stepped away from the bulletin board. It was a shame. I didn't have any spare change lying around to give to the hospital, but they were doing great things in the children's wing and I would have loved to be able to support them somehow. Baking would have been a good way to contribute.
“You’re single, aren’t you?” asked Paul.
“By choice,” I said.
“It’s just a date,” he laughed. “Not a commitment.”
“I know…” I took one more look at the flyer.
Sure, it wasn’t a commitment, but as the alpha hosting the date I’d be expected to pay and I sure as hell didn’t have that kind of money. Even if I did have enough to scrape together for a date, there weren’t a lot of omegas who would be very happy with an alpha who could barely afford a night out. It was an alpha’s duty to care for his omega, not to mention their future family.
I hated to admit it, but I could hardly take care of myself. There were days where I ate all three meals in the hospital cafeteria because I couldn’t afford groceries. What omega would want a guy like me?
“You know I can’t afford a fancy date,” I muttered.
Paul may have known, but I was still embarrassed, especially since he had a sweet scholarship that paid for his med school tuition and I knew what he was making now as a doctor.
“It doesn’t say it has to be fancy,” Paul pointed out. “Do something cheap.”
I looked at him skeptically. “Did you see where it’s being held? It’s like the fanciest place in town. Any omega there bidding on a date is not going to be impressed with something cheap. They’re all way out of my league.”
“You're so old fashioned,” Paul snorted. “There are plenty of omegas out there who earn more than their alphas.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I grumbled, shaking my stack of medical files in his direction. “You’re already happily married to a stay-at-home-omega.”
“I didn’t go traditional by choice; we fell in love and that’s just how it worked out,” said Paul. “Believe me, Jace, when you meet the right omega, he isn’t going to care how much money you have.”
He was right; I knew that, I really did. But my parents had been strictly traditional when it came to alpha and omega roles. The idea that I would be the one providing for my omega had been drummed into me since I was old enough to know what an omega was.
My parents would have been absolutely mortified if I even considered being with an omega who was financially above my station. Then again, they would also have been mortified by my current living conditions, which were well below the standards they would have set for an alpha. On the bright side, they weren't around anymore to know.
And on the other side of that, their untimely deaths had come with a lot of unforeseen financial complications that left me scrambling to make ends meet before they were even in the ground.
“I should get back to work,” I said, adjusting my pile one more time.
“I’ll bid on you,” Paul said just as I started off.
“What?” I asked, turning back in confusion.
Paul laughed and pointed to the flyer. “I was going to donate anyway. Allie isn’t big on baking and I think she’d be pretty jealous if I tried to set up a date with an omega for myself… so, you bake something, put it on the auction table, and I’ll bid on it. Then we both get to contribute and you don’t have to go on a date.”
“You don’t have to do that to make me feel better.”
“I guarantee I'll spend more bidding on whatever you make than I would just flat out donate. Hell, I’ll keep a number in mind and if I end up bidding less, I’ll donate the remainder anyway. And if it costs me more, everyone wins.”
I did want to do my part and help out. And there weren’t many other ways I could contribute, short of kicking ass as a receptionist.
“Tell you what,” I said, not quite believing I was agreeing. “You promise to place the winning bid and I’ll do it.”
“Deal,” said Paul. I heard a beep and he pulled out his phone and checked it. “Gotta run.”
“Later, Doc.”
~~~***~~~
Before I knew it, the day of the auction arrived and I headed over with my chosen treat: maple candy.
As soon as I saw some of the fancy selections, I knew I had made the right choice. My maple candy was plain and boring; exactly what I needed to avoid people bidding on it. The only decoration, if you could call it that, was the ivy leaf shape mold I used. My grandmother had spend years wasting time with a maple leaf mold that only made six at a time. When she found an eighteen-piece mold, she was so excited she didn’t realize it was ivy and not maple leaves. Her baking partner, and best friend, had loved them, so they turned it into their own little inside joke and kept using them. The pan had been passed down to me and I was happy to keep using it.
I smiled fondly at the memory of standing over the stove with Grandma Sophia; eager to lick the spoon when she was done. She always brought a jug of fresh maple syrup when she came to visit and we made the maple candy together.
“And this is?” asked the woman checking me in.
“Maple candy,” I said.
She arched an eyebrow at me, then wrote it down. I wondered if everything else had a fancy name. Good, one less thing to attract an omega.
“What’s your designation?”
“Alpha.”
“And the date?” she asked.
“Um… It’s February…” I started to pull out my phone to check.
“No,” she said, stifling a laugh. “The date for the auction.” She jabbed her pen toward one of the cards on a fancy basket.
I leaned over to read it.
Roasted Almond Toffee Chocolates. Dinner at the Opera House.
Crap. I racked my brains, trying to think of a date that would be that would be unappealing. Not to mention cheap. If, for some reason, Paul couldn’t bid or something I needed a date I’d have to actually be able to follow through with.
I thought immediately of my favorite coffee shop. It had free refills, as long as you were drinking black, and tons of used books to peruse. They were rarely crowded and almost never kicked you out before closing to make room. Better yet, when I knew the barista – and I usually did – they’d refill my coffee even if I had something a little fancier and a free unsold baked good or two before closing.
“Coffee and sandwiches at the Mill Street Coffee Shop,” I said. “Tomorrow night.”
Short notice was good too, to minimize bidding.
“The Mill Street Coffee Shop…” she echoed. “And… then?”
“That’s it,” I said, forcing my smile to stay fixed.
“Okay…”
“When they call yours, you go up on stage for the bidding,” she started to say.
“I’m not staying,” I said quickly. “I uh… have to work.”
“Right,” she muttered. “And I need your contact information so the omega can contact you for the date details.”
I sighed and gave her the information, then pushed out through the well-dressed crowd. With any luck Paul would place a decent bid and make this all worth it; I’d contribute to the Children’s Hospital and I had an excuse to make Grandma’s maple candy.
I headed back to my crummy apartment and, with nothing better to do, decided to read some old favorite, comfort books. Since I was thinking of my grandmother, I grabbed a mystery novel by Victoria Peppers. Although I had never been fortunate enough to meet her, she had been my grandmother’s best friend – the same one she baked maple candy with, in fact. They were so close that Victoria had even given her some of her manuscripts, long before she was published.
Grandma Sophia used to read them to me and passed her love of mystery books on. Not only did I devour them, but I also tried my hand at writing them. Of course, none of my crappy stories would ever see the light of day, especially the ones that borrowed Victoria Peppers’ sleuths and settings. Okay, so maybe I didn’t write books, so much as fanfiction.
Nevertheless, I still read every Victoria Peppers mystery as it came out, even though she had passed some years ago and her daughter had taken over writing them. In my opinion, they were just as good as the originals.
Tonight, however, I chose one of the old classics Victoria had written by herself; one my grandmother had loved.
Once I was settled in and reading, with some extra maple candy to snack on, I almost forgot about the auction.
Then my phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number, but I answered anyway in case it was the hospital; it wasn’t uncommon to get called in to help with busy shifts. With all of the ice and snow we had been seeing an increase in patients.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Jace Wagner?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m Ashton Basque. I won your maple candy and was calling to uh…”
My stomach dropped out from under me. “I’m sorry, what?” I said.
“I bid on your maple candy at the auction. For the children’s hospital? I won and was told to contact you to arrange the date.”
I clenched the phone and sucked in a sharp breath. No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen!
“It’s tomorrow night. Um, at eight. At the Mill Street Coffee Shop. It’s in the—”
“I know where it is.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said reluctantly.
“See you then.” There was something flat and wholly unenthusiastic about his voice.
I hung up and nearly chucked my phone across my small apartment. “Are you kidding me?!” I spat instead.
I quickly dial Paul's number.
“Dr. Sullyfield.”
“Paul, what the hell?!” I demanded.
“Sorry?”
“An omega just called me! He said he won my maple candy and wanted to set up the date.”
“Oh,” Paul groaned. “I was gonna call you, I guess he's on the ball.”
“On the ball?” I snorted. “What happened?!”
“He outbid me.”
“You promised!”
“I know,” Paul groaned. “It was just…”
“Tell me this wasn’t some complicated scheme to rope me into a date,” I growled.
“No, no. He was a former patient and he really wanted the maple candy and… Look, I’m sorry, really. It’s just one date. He’s sweet.”
“Thanks a lot,” I muttered.
“One date. It won’t be the end of the world.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you at work.”
I hung up with a groan. Who was this omega? I had the plainest candy and the cheapest, most boring date, and he bid on it anyway?
Not to say an evening in a quiet coffee shop wasn’t an ideal date in my opinion, but I didn't think it would have been that appealing to most people. This was going to be nothing short of embarrassing.
With a sign, I sagged down onto my couch, trying to avoid the spots where the uncomfortable springs poked up. I tried to remind myself that Paul was right; it was just one date. One night and then done. With that in mind, I sought out the last couple pieces of maple candy and munched on them to make myself feel better.
Honey-Dripping Heartthrob by Ava Beringer
1
CHRIS
“Isabella, we talked about this,” I said in my flirtiest, gentlest tone. I tilted my head and lifted my eyebrows at the face on my phone screen, a gorgeous alpha woman who was so full of charm that she wasn’t used to hearing “no” for an answer. “We had a good time, but we both agreed that was it.”
Isabella smoothed her thumb and forefinger down her chin and licked her lips, her tongue rolling smoothly over her “r’s” in her lightly-accented English. “I know what we said, but that was in the past. Rules are made to be broken, sexy.”
She wasn’t the first to try for more, and she wouldn’t be the last. To be honest, lately, I’d been thinking about having more with somebody special. It just didn’t seem realistic. There wasn’t any special someone out there waiting for me, and even if there was, I wouldn’t be able to commit. I rolled my eyes playfully as I crossed from my stove top to my kitchen island. “Not this time, sharpshooter.”
“Are you sure?”
She was distracting me from the dinner I was cooking with her sexy looks and rolling “r”. Well, trying to cook, since I wasn’t much of one. I cut my eyes to the sizzling skillet, which let up steam and a savory aroma. It seemed okay for now. “Yes, I’m sure.”
She chuckled and shrugged a shoulder. “It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?”
“Can’t say I blame you,” I replied, using a hand to motion toward my whole being. She laughed out loud. She was a sexy, confident, seductive alpha. Lots of fun and lots of mystique. That’s how I wanted to keep it in my memories. “It really was fun, though. Take care, alright?”
Isabella wasn’t fazed. We both knew how these things went. “You do the same, doctor. Goodbye.”
I clicked off the line. At the same time, my phone danced on the granite countertop, blinking with a text message. It was from Martrice, a thoracic surgeon I met at a conference in Atlanta.
In town. Let’s meet. The winky face and tongue out emoji told me exactly what she wanted to meet for. Like most of the alphas I met she didn’t ask, just assumed I’d say yes in the typical cat and mouse game I played with them. I always won.
We’d been together twice. I tilted my head back and forth, debating whether or not I wanted to go for the third and final time with her.
I typed, Looking for another lesson in building dexterity in your fingers?
Her answer came almost immediately, phone shaking in my palm. While it is top-notch, I’m always looking for ways to up my game, doctor. Along with that came a picture of her puckered lips, thick and lacquered red, one fingertip in between them, resting on the tip of her tongue. I shivered, remembering our last night together. We’d both taught each other some tricks. I wasn’t interested in another performance, though. We’d had our fun, and lately the “hit and runs” just weren’t as alluring as they used to be. Because you want to settle down, came a quiet voice in the back of my mind. So quiet, I acted like it wasn’t there.
I smelled burning. When I wheeled around plumes of brown, angry-looking smoke floated up from the cast-iron skillet on the range.
“Shit,” I muttered. “My filets.” I was supposed to sear the outsides, then put them in the oven. “Forget seared, these are blackened.” I grabbed a pair of blue oven mitts that I’d never even used before and dumped everything in the sink. I turned the faucet on and the water hit the pan with a loud hiss and an angry cloud of grayish-brown steam. “I’ll deal with this crap later.”
I opened the kitchen window, twenty stories up. The sounds of Philly traffic, with honks coming as often as notes on a sheet of music, wafted up on the cool night air and filled my condo. I sat at my glass dining room table, dropped my elbow on it and my chin in my hand, and sighed. The burnt dinner was minor. The new feeling that something was missing? That was harder to acknowledge. For once, I was not looking forward to dinner in peaceful and quiet solitude. I hated to admit it, but maybe I wanted someone there with me.
Knock, knock, knock. To say I was shocked was an understatement.
I rose slowly from my chair. “Who could that be?” I wasn’t expecting anyone, that was for sure. My plan was to cook myself a tasty dinner, relax for the few days I was home in Philly, and review some new suturing techniques in preparation for my next surgery in Clearvale, Minnesota, of all places.
My heart pounded with excitement as I looked through my peephole. A tall, debonair alpha stood there in a cashmere sweater and slacks, a big, expensive watch shining on his wrist as he casually tucked his hand in his pocket, looking like he just stepped out of GQ magazine. Guy Guillaume, the alpha who I’d broken rules for lately. Had he somehow heard my inner cry of loneliness?
I cracked the door open, putting on a flirtatious smile. “I don’t remember extending a dinner invitation, Guy.” I pretended I wasn’t excited to see him, that I didn’t feel giddy, the beginnings of a schoolboy crush growing in my chest.
He grinned, and his easy charm shone through as always. “Getting you to break another one of your rules.” Inwardly, I cringed. My first rule was not to see any alpha more than three times. They got attached that way. Unfortunately, I broke that rule with Guy a long time ago.
Another rule, somewhere down the line, was not to ever have them over to my condo. I didn’t know how far down the line that rule was because since I’d implemented the rules, I hadn’t made it that far down before. The first time Guy showed up outside my door, I sent him away with the same sort of flirtatious teasing, but as hard as it was, I held my ground. Now, not so much. Something about Guy had me throwing them all out the window lately, and the truth was, I didn’t even care.
Guy held up a brown paper grocery bag. “Brought dinner. Wanted to make something special for a special omega.” The eye contact was so intense I wanted to skip the food and go straight to bed. Guy sniffed the air, a cocky half-grin on his lips. “Seems like I have perfect timing.”
“I can make meals for myself just fine, I’ll have you to know.”
“I wasn’t just talking about the food, but if you can cook half as well as you do everything else,” he lifted a suggestive eyebrow at me, “then you’re a regular Wolfgang Puck.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “Wolfgang Puck, huh?” “Obviously, you’re way sexier than he is. C’mon, gorgeous, don’t leave me out here in the cold.” “The cold” was the richly decorated hallway of the expensive building I lived in.
I let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “We can’t have you freezing to death, I suppose.” I stepped back from the door and Guy strode in.
“Atta boy. C’mere.” He caught me by the waist and swept me up into a kiss that made my head spin. When he let me go to make his way into the kitchen, I had to catch myself on my wobbly knees. Was this what I’d been wanting lately? It had to be. The perfect alpha was breaking down my walls, beating back all my defenses. I was being seduced by the slickest alpha around, and I loved it. That quiet voice in the back of my mind, though, it whispered to me. This isn’t right. Again, I pretended it didn’t exist.
Guy walked through my kitchen like he lived there, opening cabinets until he found my wine glasses and took two down with a gentle clink. Part of me bristled at the liberties he took in my house, but part of me liked his take-control attitude. He rattled through one of my drawers and pulled out the wine opener, setting a fancy bottle of red down on the counter with a soft thunk.
“Sit,” he said. “Relax. I’m taking care of you tonight.”
I slid into one of the tall chairs at my island, giving myself a front-row seat to watch this alpha- my alpha?- cook for me. “Ooh, I like that, big alpha.”
Guy just smiled like he knew I did. He tipped my glass and poured me a generous share of an expensive Bordeaux imported from France. He pulled out a beautiful cut of meat wrapped in butcher paper and brown string.
“It’s rack of lamb for you tonight. I’m pairing it with rosemary red potatoes and asparagus.”
“Sounds incredible.”
“I knew it would.” Guy turned to the sink, took one look at the mess inside, and burst out laughing. “We’re gonna have to keep you out of the kitchen, I see.”
“That’s what I have you for,” I quipped, trying to hide my embarrassment. I wasn’t a fan of the way he laughed at me, not with me.
“That’s right. You have me to cook for you now.” Back to the gooey feelings. His words made it sounds like we had a future.
“What’s the new hot goss in supply chain society?” I teased. Guy was in supply chain management of a fortune 500 company. I was successful, but what I earned was piddling compared to him.
“Things have been interesting, shall we say, with all the wildfires going on.”
“Is that right?” That was all Guy needed to go on for the next thirty minutes about how tight production had gotten and how difficult it was to transport things across the US-Canadian border, etc, etc. It was a lot of talking, but I admired his career. We saw eye-to-eye when it came to our work, and we considered ourselves equals, the best in our respective fields. Also, he was cooking me a delicious dinner after I burnt mine, so I wasn’t about to stop his flow. I listened as he seasoned and prepped the lamb, got it in the oven, then cut and seasoned the potatoes and asparagus.
My need to talk about my job was ready to explode out of my chest when he said, “How’s work going for you?” That got my blood pumping. Finally, I got to talk about my favorite subject. That was one thing I enjoyed talking about with Guy since we both were so passionate.
“It’s phenomenal,” I said, bouncing in my seat like one of the kids I operated on. “I’ve already performed more than a dozen surgeries this year and it’s not even halfway through February. I think I can break my own record. Of course, I have to be careful not to stretch myself too thin or burn myself out, but I’m excited about all the families I get to help and places I get to see. My pocketbook isn’t complaining, either.”
“Wow, you’re really going like gangbusters, huh?”
“Yes,” I nodded enthusiastically as he drizzled a golden stream of olive oil on the asparagus, which was now perfectly cooked. “This is set to be my best year yet.”
“Then you’ll be out of town a lot?”
“I’ll barely be home. I might as well rent this place out.” I chuckled a bit at my attempt at a joke. Guy didn’t look at me. He set the olive oil down on the counter with a little sigh and a small smile.
“I’ve been thinking, you know. About us.”
I sat up straighter. “About us? You mean me and you, together?”
Guy leaned forward, resting his elbow on the island as he reached across and took my hand. All my hair stood up on end as I clutched his fingers, exhilarated by his touch, even though the back of my mind prickled, saying something was off. “I want to be with you. I want to take a stab at this thing.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
I gathered myself, remembering not to be too vulnerable. I gave him a little smirk. “What makes you think I’ll agree to that?”
“I think you letting me in told me everything I need to know. It’s symbolic, you know.” Yes, I did know. “I think after you eat this dinner you’ll agree to it. I think once I get you in the bedroom, you’ll agree to it.” I hated to admit it, but he was right. This isn’t right, though, the little voice whispered. I shut it down, because I was about to get what I wanted. “Valentine’s Day is coming up soon. Perfect timing for a romance, right?”
“Right,” I said, even though I didn’t really think so. Valentine’s Day wasn’t something I took seriously. “I’m gonna be out of town, though. I have surgeries to perform.”
Guy rolled his eyes. “In Bumfuck, Minnesota.”
“There are still kids who need lifesaving surgery in the midwestern boondocks.”
“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I wanted to talk to you about that, too. This is the perfect segway.”
My blood pressure ticked up. “Talk to me about what?”
Guy came around the island, leaning on it in front of me. He rested his hands on my biceps and gave me a little squeeze. “Relationships require sacrifice, right?”
“Riiiiight,” I replied slowly. I don’t like where this is going.
“I don’t want to have to spend special days without you. I want you close to home.”
“Guy, I appreciate that, but my job requires that I travel. That’s a major piece of it.”
“I know, and I’ve been thinking about that. In order for us to be together, I think it would only be fair if you cut back on the travel.”
He might as well have cut out my stomach. “Excuse me?”
“I know it’s not ideal, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”
“You don’t think it’s too much to ask?” I repeated, incredulously.
“Don’t get upset. I can more than compensate for any reduction in your wages. I’m willing to do that just to spend more time with you. That’s how much I value you. Value what we have, and what we could be.”
I was shocked. “You wanting me to stop doing what I love is showing that you value me?”
Guy squeezed my arms again. “I didn’t say stop, sweetheart. I said cut back. You can still do it for fun here and there. I just want you at home. What’s so wrong with that?”
“My loss of satisfaction is what’s wrong with that. My loss of independence is what’s wrong with that.”
“I just told you I’d take care of you. You won’t want for anything. As a matter of fact, you’ll live even better than you do now. I’ll get you a nicer place than this.” He lifted a finger and twirled it around, acting like the beautiful home I put my heart and soul into earning was a pigsty. My vision went red and my veins throbbed in my forehead. Who was this man I let into my home? I was only moments from blowing a gasket.
“You think this is about your money,” I started, my voice dangerously low as I struggled to keep myself in check. “You think having a unique skill, that I went to college and studied fifteen years for and perfected, better than anyone in the nation,” My voice got louder as my anger built, “that saves lives and that gives me a sense of pride and fulfillment, is worth throwing away for you.”
Guy threw up his hands dismissively. “You’re getting upset when I told you not to. There’s no need to get worked up, Christopher, I’m not taking away from your skillset. It’s one of the things I admire about you the most. I can’t wait to show you off and brag to everyone what my omega can do.”
“All while forbidding me to do it.”
“‘Forbid’ is a strong word. I can’t make you do anything, I can only ask you to make a few sacrifices for us.”
The manipulation was outrageous. “What sacrifices are you going to make, exactly?” I snapped, not bothering to hold down my volume anymore.
“I just told you. I’ll be taking care of the both of us. Especially if, in the future, we were to have babies. I really want babies, Chris. Can you imagine? A sweet little girl and a boy? I would think we’d want you home to raise them. You could take some time off, maybe even retire.”
My eyes flew wide. “If you think I’m giving up my lifeblood to be your prize pig that you trot out for your little country club friends, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m not some pedestal for you to stand on while you chase your dreams and I abandon mine.”
Guy laughed like I was a stupid, insolent child. “Listen. I could have gone with someone younger, someone more willing to please me-”
“You just called me old and washed up, and implied that you want a young, beautiful fool who has no ambitions other than propping up you and your ego.”
Guy’s face crumpled into something stormy, volatile. “I’m trying to give you something hundreds, thousands of omegas are begging me for. You’re just throwing your chance down the drain because you’re stubborn, egotistical, and selfish. I see why you’re still single.” Guy wasn’t at all who I thought he was. You knew better, my subconscious said. The nerve of him to hurl insults that applied perfectly to him. Little did he know I could match him hurricane for hurricane. Things escalated into a shouting match as quickly as gasoline accelerated an engine fire.
I went to the door and yanked it open, pointing into the hallway. “Get out of my house and lose the directions. Don’t ever contact me again.”
Guy stepped just outside the door into the hallway. “You just lost out on Guy Guillaume.”
I pretended to wipe the sweat off my forehead. “Thank god I dodged that bullet.” “You’ll regret this, Christopher,” he raged.
“You’ll never find another alpha like me. You, I can replace in the next ten minutes. Just you watch.”
“I won’t regret anything because I. Don’t. Care.” With that, I slammed the door in his face.
His muffled voice came through the heavy wood of my door. “You’ll regret this, just you wait. You’ll regret this!” His voice faded as he moved down the hallway.
I dropped back down at my dining room table, pretending his words didn’t sting. Exhaustion tugged at my body, like someone had just turned up gravity. As soon as I was able to move a muscle, I’d drag my ass to bed.
Beep, beep, beep! My smoke alarm shrieked, jerking me back to life. Smoke was coming out of the oven.
“Motherfucker!” I ran over and grabbed my blue oven mitts, which were already seeing more action today than they had in the past few months when I first bought them. I yanked open the oven door and waved away the cloud of smoke that poured out, setting the red-hot pot on an eye of the stove. I waved at the smoke, trying to banish it out of the window to mingle with the rest of the Philadelphia pollution.
It took three tries with my broom to poke the little button on my smoke alarm that made it stop screaming. With any luck, the fire department wasn’t on their way like last time. I’d gotten a couple of telephone numbers, but it had still been embarrassing the way a few of them condescended to me like I was a silly little omega who almost burned his own building to the ground.
“Fuck this.” I picked up the bottle and took several healthy swigs, wiping my mouth with my sleeve when I was done. All the meat was overcooked and all the potatoes were undercooked, but I shoveled a pile of everything onto a plate and took it back to the table along with the wine.
“Did I just go through a breakup? Can you even call that a breakup?” Whatever it was, it hurt like hell. I covered my face with my hand, humiliated. “I broke my rules for that asshole, thinking we were at the start of something, thinking we had a future. He treated me like such dirt. Like everything I worked for doesn’t mean anything, only bragging rights for him while he made me worth less than him in our not-even-a-relationship relationship. What the fuck.” I savaged the rack of lamb, snatching off a charred mouthful that crunched between my teeth, the acrid taste of carbon on my tongue. “Just wait until Jing hears about this.” My best friend and frequent surgery partner had warned me about letting Guy get too close. I wish I had listened.
My phone buzzed over on the counter, the screen lighting up the dim, now-gloomy room. Maybe she was being psychic now and knew I needed her. She was good at that.
I snatched the phone up and answered it before looking at the screen. Big mistake.
“Oh my god, you’ll never believe who just left.”
“Who?” My O-Dad asked, in his gruff voice.
I laid my upper body across the counter, folding my forearms and dropping my head on them. “Hi, Papa. I didn’t realize it was our time to talk.” I dropped that hint because it wasn’t our time to talk. He’d snuck one in on me.
As usual, he ignored me. “You said someone just left. Was it an alpha? Why’d you let them leave?” I banged my head on my forearm, glad he’d never gotten the hang of video calls so he couldn’t see me beat my own head in.
“It was nobody important.” That didn’t stop it from hurting, or make me feel like any less of a fool. You did the right thing, said my subconscious voice. If letting a shitty alpha break down my walls and my rules, then having a major fight that ended in me alone was the right thing, what the hell was the wrong thing?
“Did you run another one off? This’ll be, what, your thirty-fifth Valentine’s Day single?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yes, yes it will.” I hated Valentine’s Day. I never cared about being single for that fake, commercialized holiday. The more time passed, the more I was determined to rebel against my O-Dad’s pressure to be in a relationship. It seemed that whatever I wanted, he always shamed me for it and wanted the opposite for me. My best guess? It was a projection; whoever my alpha parent was, they were long gone before I was born. I carried a lot of shame around being an abandoned child, and my O-Dad was not one to let me forget it. He stayed single, sour, and negative, and no matter what I did, it was never good enough to get his approval.
I changed the subject fast. “It doesn’t matter about any alpha. I’m heading out of town anyway.”
“Where are you gallivanting off to this time?” He sneered.
It’s not gallivanting, is what I wanted to say, but Papa wouldn’t listen anyway.
I ticked the locations off on my fingers. “I’ll be in Minnesota next-”
“Minneapolis? Rochester for the Mayo?”
“The Mayo’s next. First, I’ll spend a couple of weeks in Clearvale.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Me neither. The population is like, ten thousand. Not many people, but there are little lives to save, for sure.”
“I just can’t understand why you feel like you need to go ripping and running all over creation doing your little surgeries.”
He “didn’t understand” because he wanted me close to home, where he could control me. How many times did I have to say this? “There’s nothing little about these surgeries, Papa.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Yeah, it’s-”
“Are you trying to tell me what I just said?”
It was moments like this that all my confidence went out the window, and I was that stupid, incompetent, unworthy kid all over again. I loved my father and he had his good points, but being an uplifting, supportive parent was not one of them.
“No, Papa. I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I became a doctor to impress him, to show him that I could make something of myself, that I could make big goals and whistle right on by them. Being the nation’s leading pediatric heart surgeon at age thirty-five, which was practically unheard of, with a nice condo and plenty of money (which he had no problem asking me for) wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough, but I was never able to get off the hamster wheel and stop trying.
He started up again, in that sour tone of his. “You know what I always say-”
“That while I’m worrying about everybody else’s kids, my womb is drying up and I’ll never have any of my own.” I knew the whole spiel verbatim. I got it every third conversation I had with him. “I’m not in a rush to have kids. I tell you all the time how much I love my career. I may not have kids at all.”
Papa blustered and blubbered on the other end of the line. I usually added that part just to rile him up. I did want a family, I did want to settle down. Just not right now, and nobody was gonna pressure me into giving up the impactful career I loved. Not my Negative Nancy father, and certainly not some alpha who wanted to control me.
While my dad went on a tangent about how I was focusing on the wrong things in life and being selfish and running around like a chicken with its head cut off, I imagined the perfect alpha for me. Would it be too much to ask for someone who supported my career instead of felt threatened by it? In my mind, someone gentle, shy, maybe a little inexperienced came to mind. Not likely. Those were the types of alphas you settled down with, but I liked the seductive fast-talkers, someone who could keep up. I shook the thought off. What would I do with a wholesome alpha besides eat them alive and break their heart?
“You’re doing all these surgeries all the time,” my O-Dad was griping when I brought my mind back into the excruciating conversation.
“It’s my job, Papa.”
“One of these days you’re gonna make a mistake. Then what?”
“Okay, time for me to go.” I hung up without another word. I gasped for breath. There was a tennis ball lodged in my throat and hot coals in my eyes. I swallowed it down and blinked them back. I’m not gonna cry. I don’t cry. I do need backup, though. Now was the time to call Jing.
She answered on the second ring, her smile lighting up my screen. “What’s going on?”
I laughed bitterly. “Could you smell my desperation and distress?”
“Coming off you in waves,” she joked.
“Jing, what happens when I make a mistake?”
“We all make mistakes, Chris.”
My voice came out small and I clutched at my smartphone, tiny in my hands. “With the surgeries.”
“Shit. I need wine for this one. You do, too.”
I looked down at my empty, trembling hand. “You’re right. I had some, but I don’t anymore. Why don’t I have wine?”
The view on my screen jostled for a few moments as she poured herself a drink. “That’s why I’m here. To remind you.” She took a long slurp to punctuate her sentence. I relocated the bottle of Bordeaux, forgotten as I tried to manage the always-emotionally-damaging conversation with my dad.
“You settled?” Jing asked.
I took a sip from the bottle with my shaking hands. “Yup.”
“What do you always tell me when I’m afraid of getting dosages wrong, or keeping someone under too long or not long enough?” Jing was an anesthesiologist, so she knew better than anyone about holding a life in her hands.
I took a deep breath and recited my words of support and advice to her. “I tell you that you’re an expert at this. You’re the best in the country, and I wouldn’t work with you if you weren’t. I wouldn’t trust you if you weren’t.”
“What else?”
“That we’ve worked our asses off at this. We eat, sleep, and breathe it. Even routine surgeries can go wrong, but when they do, we know how to handle it and we’ve got each other’s backs.”
“That’s right.” She paused for a sip of wine. “We’re a team. We hold each other up. The stakes couldn’t be higher for us, but we do this because we can handle it. You got this. Take a deep breath and a big swig.”
I took a shaky draught of my wine, swallowed, and filled my lungs with air. I let it out in a big sigh. “Thanks, Jing. You’re a lifesaver.”
“What happened? Talk to your dad?”
“How’d you guess?”
“I’m psychic.”
“Then why didn’t you call me before he did?” I whined. “That’s not all of it. Guy was here right before I talked to Papa.”
Jing rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“I shouldn’t have let him in.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. He also shouldn’t have come to your place unannounced. The entitlement.”
“I let him in, like an idiot. He brought me wine, cooked me dinner.”
“This is gonna be a doozy.”
“He said he came because he couldn’t stop thinking about us. He told me…” I dropped onto my couch and let my head loll back against it, clutching the bottle to my chest with my free hand. “He told me he wanted us to be together.”
“You told him hell-to-the-no like Whitney Houston, right?” I didn’t say anything. “Right, Chris?”
“I didn’t at first. Not until he started up about me making ‘sacrifices’ for us to be together.”
Jing gasped. “No, he didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, he did.”
“You kicked his ass to the curb, didn’t you?”
“Right after I chewed him a new one.”
Jing tilted her head, making an empathic face at me. “I’m sorry, honey. I always hoped you’d break your rules someday but that it would be for the right one, not the guy who threw it in your face, pun intended.”
I tipped my head back on the couch again and pinched the bridge of my nose, stemming the tide of emotion. “There is no right one, Jing. Not for me. I don’t want to be in love, I don’t want to be committed. I’m happy with my life the way it is now. I don’t want anybody else trying to control or change or shame me. Nobody else.” I made a slicing motion with my hand, from left to right. “Nobody.”
Jing nodded her head slowly. “Okay. I hear you. Maybe this next trip is just what you need. You can get out of Philly, get out of the city, clear your head, get focused on work again.”
“If I could leave right now, I would.”
“We’ll be heading out before you know it. You never know, maybe there will even be a bumpkin alpha who will turn your head.”
My subconscious perked up at that. It sounded right, but why, after what I just went through? I ignored it. “Not likely.”
“You won’t feel like this forever. I don’t want an idiot like Guy Guillaume to be the reason you stop having fun and close yourself off.”
“I’m done, Jing. At least for a while.”
She held her hands out in front of her. “Alright, if you say so.”
“I do say so, so don’t go getting any bright ideas.”
“Who, little old me? I would never.” I gave her a playful stink eye. “Okay, maybe I’ve been known to get in some trouble here and there, but I’ll keep my hands clean this time around. In the meantime, tell me about this new suturing technique you heard about.” Grateful for the distraction, I launched into telling Jing all about it, trying to dull the ache in my heart. It lessened a bit, but didn’t go away. You’ll be okay, said the little voice. It’s coming. He’s coming.
What’s coming? Who’s coming? The way my heart rose, you would think there was some kind of miracle on the way. Maybe going to small-town Minnesota was just what I needed. I had no idea, in that moment, how my life was about to change.
Season Two
My characters are sexy, hot, adorable—and often filthy—alphas and omegas. Feudal lords with dark secrets, lonely omegas running away from their past, and alphas who refuse to commit.
Lurking in the background are kings, mafia dons, undercover agents and highwaymen with a naughty gleam in their eye.
As for me? I dictate my steamy stories with a glass of champagne in one hand. Because why not?
Kallie is the pseudonym of a USA Today Bestselling Author who normally writes young adult fantasy and dabbles in paranormal romance. She loves animals of all kinds, so she loves reading and writing books with shifter themes. Her favorite time to write is late at night when her husband and kids are asleep and everything is quiet. During the day she can be found chasing her boys, baking, and talking to herself.
Ava Beringer is a major-league nerd who started off writing fanfiction and fell in love with mpreg and omegaverse. She loves to heat up a slick omega and a knotty alpha. By day she’s a good thirty-something midwestern girl, but she has a dark side. Okay, not really. She’s as bubbly as champagne but she can be pretty darn cheeky when you get her going.
She’s a digital nomad who’s traveled to thirty-five countries and counting. If she’s lucky, a cat will adopt her along the way.
Pick up your FREE SHORT STORIES, hear about her new releases and misadventures here, and tell her about yours! ❤
Colbie Dunbar
Marshmallow Mindness by Colbie Dunbar
Maple Sugar Mix-Up by Kallie Frost
Honey-Dripping Heartthrob by Ava Beringer
Season One
Season Two
Season Three
Season Four
Season Five
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