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I've wanted to do a Christmas in July series for a few years now but time just didn't seem to agree. I wanted to feature stories that I have recently re-read but once again, time had other plans so for my Christmas in July 2024 series, I'm featuring another 20 of my favorite Christmas set LGBT reads. I say "Christmas set" because some are not really holiday-centric but set, at least in part, during the holiday season and for me that is all it takes to be a Christmas read(and yes, I'm in the "Die Hard is a Christmas Movie" camp😉). Some I've had opportunity in the past to re-read or re-listen and I've included the most recent review. As always, the purchase links are current as of posting but if they no longer work for a dozen different reasons, be sure to check out the author's website/social media sites for the latest links. There are genres of all kinds here, whether you are a holiday lover or perhaps you just want to read something set in cooler weather on a long hot summer night, either way there is something for everyone here.
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A Star Crossed Christmas by VL Locey
Summary:
Cayuga Cougars #5.5
Being the new man in the crease can be tough. Mitch Adams, former back-up for the Cougars is now the main man in goal, replacing August Miles, who was recently called up to the pros. There are lots of new things happening in Mitch’s life and not everything is because of hockey.
Two years ago, he shared an explosive kiss with his childhood friend, Olympic snowboarder, Shaun Sandbeck. Since then, Mitch has been more than a little confused about a multitude of things pertaining to who he is, his sexuality, and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about that kiss and how he wants more.
For Mitch, going home for Christmas is a chance to find his focus and face the man who caused all this confusion. Is it possible for the two men to untangle lust from love, and find a future together that works?
Previously published in the Hockey Holidays Anthology
I originally read this as part of the Hockey Holidays Anthology a few weeks ago and loved it, as a matter of fact I loved Mitch and Shaun's story so much I re-read it already. Now I haven't read the author's Cayuga Cougars series but I was by no means lost, if anything its made me want to bump this series up on my TBR list a few notches. Sweet, sexy, and sassy: my favorite s-words when it comes to reading and being a holiday setting just makes it that much better.
RATING:
Summary:
Original ebook Review November 2015(4-1/2 Stars):
I discovered Silvia Violet last Christmas so when I found more holiday tales I knew I had to read them. I was not disappointed with Needing a Little Christmas. Sometimes when we are at what feels like our lowest, fate intervenes in the most unexpected and unlikely ways. That pretty much sums up where Eli finds himself when he meets Mac. Such a delicious and fun addition to my holiday library and to be honest, I wouldn't mind if the author decides to revisit this couple *wink, wink, hint, hint*.
Can a lumberjack save Eli’s Christmas?
It’s Christmas Eve and Eli is alone and shivering in a cabin.
His only hope for a warm Christmas is a call to Mac’s Wood Delivery. When Mac answers the phone, his deep voice is enough to heat Eli up.
Once Eli meets the big mountain man, he wonders if Mac can provide the Christmas cheer he needs.
I discovered Silvia Violet last Christmas so when I found more holiday tales I knew I had to read them. I was not disappointed with Needing a Little Christmas. Sometimes when we are at what feels like our lowest, fate intervenes in the most unexpected and unlikely ways. That pretty much sums up where Eli finds himself when he meets Mac. Such a delicious and fun addition to my holiday library and to be honest, I wouldn't mind if the author decides to revisit this couple *wink, wink, hint, hint*.
Audiobook Review December 2019:
I can't believe it's been 4 years since I originally read this lovely novella and it is still just as brilliant as I remember. Eli and Mac are a perfect fit and though they may not be looking, Needing a Little Christmas is a right place, right time sort of tale that leaves you smiling for hours. As for Sean Crisden's narration, well his voice is absolutely perfect for Eli and Mac's journey and makes the whole thing come alive.
RATING:
I can't believe it's been 4 years since I originally read this lovely novella and it is still just as brilliant as I remember. Eli and Mac are a perfect fit and though they may not be looking, Needing a Little Christmas is a right place, right time sort of tale that leaves you smiling for hours. As for Sean Crisden's narration, well his voice is absolutely perfect for Eli and Mac's journey and makes the whole thing come alive.
Present Tense by Jordan Castillo Price
Summary:
The ABCs of Spellcraft #8
Christmas is a festive time of year, one filled with food, family and tradition—Dixon Penn’s ideal holiday. Too bad Spellcrafters don’t celebrate Christmas.
Dixon’s parents have always been strict about their no-present rule, reluctant to entrap anyone in an “endless cycle of reciprocal obligation.”
Yuri Volnikov was not raised in the Craft, but Dixon has made sure he understands that for Spellcrafters, Christmas presents are verboten.
No gifts. None. Nada. And everyone is on the same page in regards to presents….
Or are they?
The ABCs of Spellcraft is a series filled with bad jokes and good magic, where MM Romance meets Paranormal Cozy. A perky hero, a brooding love interest, and delightfully twisty-turny stories that never end up quite where you’d expect. The books are best read in order, so be sure to start at the beginning with Quill Me Now.
This holiday short is set after What the Frack? and contains series spoilers.
Original Review January 2021:
Oh my gosh, Dixon Penn at Christmas? Talk about a character that was made for the holiday. In the world of magic you'd think conjuring up the perfect Christmas gift would be easy peasy but then again when did Dixon and Yuri ever do anything easy and without a few mishaps?
Present Tense is short, sweet, adorable, funny, and the way both Dixon and Yuri are left scrambling to come up with last minute gifts for the other is priceless. I don't want to say "predictable" because let's face it, when you are dealing with Dixon and Yuri(especially Dixon) nothing is predictable, nothing is certain other than their love for each other but you know Present Tense is going to end in HEA for the pair, so in that regard I know some might use the term but not me. As so often with great stories, the fun isn't in the ending but how they get there and this Christmas short is no different.
If you've been reading ABCs of Spellcraft as it's been written than you'll definitely want to read this holiday gem, if not . . . well what are you waiting for? Short, long, in-between, this series is brilliant and the characters are just so darn loveable you can't help but smile.
RATING:
Summary:
Single Dads #3
Single Dads #3
Leo Byrne is a cop, Jason Banks is an ex-con. Even after one stolen kiss, something has to give before Leo can convince Jason that falling in love is even an option.
Adopted at a young age, Leo is part of the sprawling Byrnes family. With his dog Cap, three siblings and a whole mess of nieces and nephews, he is never lonely, and his life is full. Love is the last item on his to-do list, but seeing his best friends Sean and Eric happy and making new families makes him want things he doesn’t think is possible. Kissing Jason at an event to honor his bravery was one thing, but anything other than that is off limits. Until Jason has no one left to turn to, and it’s Leo who helps him at his lowest. Taking Jason and his daughter into his home is one thing, but falling for the ex-con is something else altogether.
Jason made a deal to keep his daughter safe and spent years behind bars as a result. Volunteering as a convict firefighter was as much about helping the community as saving his sanity, but now that he’s out, he doesn’t even have that. He’s lost his future, his self-respect, and has no friends or a place to call home. Worst of all, even after rescuing his daughter he still can’t keep her safe from the man who wants to use her as a bargaining chip for money. Meeting Leo might give Jason a way to keep Daisy safe, but falling for the stubborn cop means the truth has to be revealed, and he could lose everything all over again.
Original ebook Review December 2019:
First off, I've said it before and I'll say it again: men who care for children are some are the sexiest around and tick all my boxes. We first met Leo back in Single and we were introduced to Jason in Today, well now it's Promise and we get to experience their journey. Cop and ex-con, cliche it may sound but that doesn't mean it can't be magical when written well and RJ Scott definitely tells their story well.
I won't say too much about Leo, he's the kind of cop we all hope to meet if we are unfortunate enough to need a cop: he's kindhearted but not a pushover and though he's all about doing his job he's not so set in stone that he won't listen. Yes, he's on injured leave during the story but we've seen this side of him throughout the series so even on leave we know this about him.
Jason, well what can one say about Jason? Not everything is as it seems. I know that sounds cryptic but there are certain elements of his story that I don't want to spoil, that you really do need to learn for yourself. Watching him care for little Daisy(who BTW is the most adorable little girl) is wonderfully written and says so much about his character. Yes, there are things that he's trying desperately to protect her from and when all is revealed you completely understand his behavior and choices.
I loved watching Leo and Sean balance their duty and their gut when it came to trusting Jason and doing what's best for him and Daisy. This was another excellent example of why Leo is the cop I described above. There is just so much heart in this story(in the Single Dads series as whole really) that at times it may seem cliche but just because something is cliche doesn't mean it isn't entertaining. Promise is a gem of read that will make you smile, cry, laugh, and smile some more and I look forward to re-visiting for years to come.
Adopted at a young age, Leo is part of the sprawling Byrnes family. With his dog Cap, three siblings and a whole mess of nieces and nephews, he is never lonely, and his life is full. Love is the last item on his to-do list, but seeing his best friends Sean and Eric happy and making new families makes him want things he doesn’t think is possible. Kissing Jason at an event to honor his bravery was one thing, but anything other than that is off limits. Until Jason has no one left to turn to, and it’s Leo who helps him at his lowest. Taking Jason and his daughter into his home is one thing, but falling for the ex-con is something else altogether.
Jason made a deal to keep his daughter safe and spent years behind bars as a result. Volunteering as a convict firefighter was as much about helping the community as saving his sanity, but now that he’s out, he doesn’t even have that. He’s lost his future, his self-respect, and has no friends or a place to call home. Worst of all, even after rescuing his daughter he still can’t keep her safe from the man who wants to use her as a bargaining chip for money. Meeting Leo might give Jason a way to keep Daisy safe, but falling for the stubborn cop means the truth has to be revealed, and he could lose everything all over again.
First off, I've said it before and I'll say it again: men who care for children are some are the sexiest around and tick all my boxes. We first met Leo back in Single and we were introduced to Jason in Today, well now it's Promise and we get to experience their journey. Cop and ex-con, cliche it may sound but that doesn't mean it can't be magical when written well and RJ Scott definitely tells their story well.
I won't say too much about Leo, he's the kind of cop we all hope to meet if we are unfortunate enough to need a cop: he's kindhearted but not a pushover and though he's all about doing his job he's not so set in stone that he won't listen. Yes, he's on injured leave during the story but we've seen this side of him throughout the series so even on leave we know this about him.
Jason, well what can one say about Jason? Not everything is as it seems. I know that sounds cryptic but there are certain elements of his story that I don't want to spoil, that you really do need to learn for yourself. Watching him care for little Daisy(who BTW is the most adorable little girl) is wonderfully written and says so much about his character. Yes, there are things that he's trying desperately to protect her from and when all is revealed you completely understand his behavior and choices.
I loved watching Leo and Sean balance their duty and their gut when it came to trusting Jason and doing what's best for him and Daisy. This was another excellent example of why Leo is the cop I described above. There is just so much heart in this story(in the Single Dads series as whole really) that at times it may seem cliche but just because something is cliche doesn't mean it isn't entertaining. Promise is a gem of read that will make you smile, cry, laugh, and smile some more and I look forward to re-visiting for years to come.
Original Audiobook Review June 2020:
First, I just want to paraphrase what I said about Leo and Jason in my ebook review: they are perfect for each other. The journey isn't always easy but then sometimes the best rewards in life come from the hardest trials and obstacles. Beyond that I don't really think there is anything I can add to my original review that would convey how much I love RJ Scott's Promise and the whole Single Dads series.
As to the narration? Well it's Sean Crisden so there is no surprise how perfectly he brings life to RJ Scott's work. He does such an amazing job with her stories that when I read them, I can hear his voice in my head. Between her storytelling and his narration, Promise is even better the second time around.
One last thing: I didn't mention it in my original review but if you are wondering about series reading order, each entry is a standalone as it's a different pairing but I highly recommend reading them in publishing order as friendships evolve and previous(and future) MCs play a secondary part in each story. Will you be lost if you start with Promise? Not at all, but personally I feel said friendships and appearances make everything flow better read in order.
RATING:
A Very Genre Christmas by Kim Fielding
Summary:
Very little is merry in a private dick’s world.
Private detective Nick Bozic works the mean streets of 1950s Portland, Oregon, shadowing unfaithful spouses and nabbing thieving employees. He may be lonely, but at least he’s not crooked. Despite the festive season, Christmas simply means less dough in his pocket.
With the holiday only a few days away, a regular client drops a new case on him: yet another being has come through the Rift and needs help finding his way home. Maybe Evindal the elf will help Nick find something too—a bit of cheer and magic amid the usual brew of corruption and betrayal.
I was so glad I stumbled across this little gem. This story ticks so many of my boxes: historical, mystery, paranormal, and Christmas. You've got a 1950s Sam Spade/Phillip Marlowe-style PI working to help paranormal cases find their way home. And what better case than a Christmas elf?
Nick the PI and Evindal the elf make for a very interesting pair, gruff and spirited, perhaps Nick has finally met his match with this case. I'm all for the typical, cookie-cutter holiday stories, after all just because they are typical doesn't mean they aren't entertaining and uplifting but sometimes one just wants something a little different, maybe not entirely outside the Santa-wrapped holiday box but holiday with a hint of mischief. Both Nick and Evendal are so much fun I certainly don't think I could say no to either of them if I met them on the street.
Because A Very Genre Christmas ticks so many of my reading boxes, I think it is a story that can be enjoyed all year long. Kim Fielding definitely takes the reader on a winning journey with these two adorably entertaining characters. If I had any complaints or downsides to this story it's that I wasn't ready to say goodbye when I reached the last page.
A Star-Crossed Christmas by VL Locey
Chapter One
During my firstseason with the Cougars, I’d learned a lot. One thing was that no matter what the veterans tell you, there’s no honor in sitting right beside the bathroom on the bus. Also, overseeing the can of air freshener to use after one of the other players exits the bathroom is not exactly a privilege. They may tell you that it is, but it’s not. It’s just gross having to spray the bathroom with your tie held over your mouth. Being a rookie on an AHL team is tough. It’s great too, but there are some horribly pungent times.
So far, the hardest part for me has been stepping into the crease to replace August Miles. Augie had been super loved on the team. His skills had gotten him a call up to Boston, the pro team we Cougars fed into. Trying to fill his shoes—or skates, I guess I should say—has been the most difficult part of becoming the starting goalie. Aside from being the holder of the air freshener. That was for sure the worst.
All that aside, it was an amazing job because I was doing what I loved, what I had dreamed of since I was old enough to stand on skates. Growing up in Liberty Springs, Connecticut, had almost guaranteed an energetic kid like me getting into some sort of winter sport. They were big on winter sports back home. Hockey, skiing, figure skating, snowboarding. Liberty Springs—which was located near the base of Mohawk Mountain—had a great rink as well as killer ski trails. We also had an incredible snowboarding park that the Sandbeck clan had been instrumental in getting built. Thinking of home always led me to thinking of Shaun…
Shaun Sandbeck was an old friend of mine. Maybe more than a friend if I were being truthful with myself. What we were to each other now was kind of up in the air. We’d been inseparable as kids until college had led me to Boston U. while Shaun had taken his ability to hit a perfect half-cab quadruple backflip and turned it into Olympic snowboard slopestyle gold. Shaun had been one of three openly gay athletes at the games last year. Him, a skier, and a figure skater. They’d all gone on to win medals and the hearts of the world—or most of the world—for being out and proud.
It had been a couple of years since I’d seen Shaun. He kind of haunted me. Not in that classic Scooby-Doo ghost sort of way, following you around while you and Shaggy checked out creepy rooms while nervously eating Scooby snacks. More in the way that we’d been so close and then we drifted apart and then came back and got super close and then we lost each other again. It was as if the fates were making it purposely difficult for us to come together as adults. Adults who might have some sort of attraction thing maybe? Or maybe not. It was such a—
“Mitch, are you done in here?”
I glanced up from the sweater in my hand to see Sander March, our first line center, standing in the doorway, shoulder on the jamb, eyebrows raised in expectation, clad only in his boxer briefs. The hotel bathroom was still steamy from my morning shower. I’d pulled on some underwear and my jeans and then had a long walk down memory lane. I’d been doing that a lot lately, mentally slipping back to that last time Shaun and I had been together. Maybe my meandering mind was due to the knowledge I’d be back in Liberty Springs soon. Walking down Main Street, stopping at the Liberty Springs Café for coffee, and then heading to Sashing and Scrim, the quilt shop that Shaun’s grandmother ran. We’d both worked there every summer as kids, helping with the heavy bolts of material, and being fed Grandma Sandbeck’s cinnamon butter cookies. If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could smell cinnamon and vanilla and hear Shaun’s mischievous laughter. Shaun and I had our first and only kiss in that quilt shop basement…
Sander cleared his throat.
“Sorry, yeah.” I tugged the sweater over my head, rammed my fingers through my hair, and called it good. Shaving could be skipped. I was glad that I’d cut my hair short and stopped dying it. The bright yellow had been cool for several months, but the upkeep was time-consuming. Now all the dark brown was in and the touch-up days were history. I could push my fingers through it and that was that. “You in a hurry to get home to Mat and Noah?”
“Yeah, I am. You heading home for the holidays?” Sander asked and moved aside to let me through.
“Soon as we get back to Cayuga, I’m packing and flying home to Liberty Springs.” I turned to look at my roommate. “The whole family will be there. All my sisters and some old friends I was kind of hoping to see.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he tugged his briefs down over his ass. I only saw one taut cheek before I glanced away. Sander was spoken for. Twice over. He was in a solid poly relationship with two men that he adored. Our team was incredibly inclusive. We had a bi coach married to a gay player, another bi player living with a transgender woman, and our previous goalie was gay and in a monogamous relationship with a man who was HIV positive. People outside our city constantly asked if there was something in the Cayuga water.
And while I’d had a sort-of thing with Shaun—if a wet kiss was considered a thing—a couple of years ago, I’d been mostly dating women because it was easier, and no man that I’d ever met or seen could compare with Shaun Sandbeck.
“Yeah? Going to head home and kiss on Shaun the snowboarder again?”
Sander was the only guy on the team that knew I was bi or about my one-time smooch with Shaun. It had been him that had kind of led me to the knowledge. Guess I’d never thought of myself as bisexual since I had only ever wanted one guy.
“I’ve been thinking about him a lot. Just…I don’t know. Maybe. I just feel like… maybe I’m not sure.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say.” Sander gave me a wink, closed the door, and turned on the shower. The memory of that kiss with Shaun heating my thoughts, I padded over to the window of our hotel room, pulled the blind aside, and pressed my nose to the cold glass, smiling deep inside as I recalled how Shaun and I would do this very thing every morning as we waited in my mother’s van for the bus. Snow and Shaun. They went together like ice and Mitch.
Could we find each other again after all this time? Would the feelings be the same? Or was I just dreaming about something that was a youthful moment of shared passion?
* * *
Home.No matter what or how much time passed, Liberty Springs remained the same. Riding beside my father through the small town, I smiled at the tiny shops, their windows filled with blinking lights that threw rainbows of color on the new snow dusting the sidewalks.
“The more things change, the more they remain the same,” Dad said, pulling my attention from the darkened window of Sashing and Scrim, the quilt shop that held so many memories. Grandma Sandbeck had probably turned in early to rest up for the baking that she would do tomorrow on Christmas Eve Day. The theme to Top Cat played in my ear. I paused the old Hanna-Barbara cartoon and tugged my ear buds free.
“Yeah, I kind of love how this town never changes.” I gave Dad a smile. He was crawling along, letting the ride drag, and I knew why. My sisters had arrived last night. And with them their seven children. All girls. The husbands would arrive late tomorrow.
Now, don’t get me wrong; my father loves his daughters and his granddaughters. He’d worked hard to give us all college educations and heaps of love and support. It was just kind of overwhelming at times to be the only male among all that femininity. I studied his profile and wondered how he would handle me telling him that I was kind of crushing on Shaun, the man who had been like a second son to him. Would he support his only male child if that man was with another man?
“You seem kind of distracted, Mitch. Is there something wrong?”
We pulled up to the one traffic light at the end of Main Street, waiting for the red to turn green and waving at Bailey Harper who drove the township truck as he passed by spreading salt.
“No, nope. Just tired, I think. Season is long. It’s nice to get four whole days off.” I gave him a smile then eased into the question that had been nipping at me for weeks. “Any idea if Shaun is home?”
“Oh yeah, he’s been home for a couple weeks. I thought you and he were in constant contact like back in high school.”
Dad gave me a fast look then made the left leading out of town after the red turned to green.
“Not really. With both of us traveling…” I let that hang and added a shrug.
“Yeah, I can see that would make staying in contact tricky. I’m sure he knows you’re here. Mom and Patrice are still thick as thieves. You can probably catch up with him tomorrow at home or over at the park.”
“Yep, probably so.”
Dad then asked about the Cougars, our chances at the Calder Cup, and if I’d seen the new season of some western he assumed everyone in the world watched. The climb up the side of the mountain was gradual but still felt in your inner ear. The spattering of homes on this lonely stretch of road all sat on inclines, which was perfect for a kid with a snowboard and a dream. The Sandbeck ranch was higher than our place. Pulling into our driveway, I glanced up the road, saddened in a way that it was night and I’d not seen Shaun ripping down the road on that old four-wheeler of his.
Dad grabbed my bags from the back of the SUV. I tossed the duffel with all the presents over my shoulder, and we entered the sprawling ranch house. My mom was there at the door, pulling me in for a hug and kiss, followed by my sisters in order of age with Deanna, Tracie, and Rhonda. Deanna was forty and had twin girls, Trinidad and Tampico, who were thirteen. Tracie was thirty-eight and had three girls Ruby, twelve, Kayla, ten, and Anna who was eight. And rounding out the female Adams children was Rhonda who was thirty-five and had two girls, Allison who was seven and Robin who was five.
The only niece who was waiting at the door for me was Allison, Rhonda’s oldest. She and Uncle Mitch were athletes, the only ones, and so we had this crazy bond.
“Mom said you’d take me to the snow park tomorrow,” she whispered as she hung off my back like a skinny monkey. There was so much talking going on that I could barely hear myself speaking. Dad took my bags to the basement, which was his man cave but had been my room at one time. The women kind of carried me into the kitchen, all of them saying something about one thing or another. The room was packed with bodies and food. Girls ran in and out, most with earbuds in their ears, smiling up at their uncle then disappearing again.
“Uncle Mitch, you didn’t answer me,” Allison said when I backed up to a counter, and she slid off me to sit on it. I turned from the madness of four women in one kitchen and looked right into Allison’s blue eyes, eyes that were exactly like all the Adams clan, mine included.
“Sorry, I was overwhelmed with all the food.” I grabbed a couple warm cookies from a wire rack, handed her one, and shoved the whole sugar cookie into my mouth. Allison’s eyes widened and then she giggled. My mother patted me on the back, reminded me of my manners, handed me a glass of milk, and then fell back into a four-way conversation with my sisters.
“Want to go play a video game?” Allison asked after we’d washed down our cookies.
The console was in the basement where Dad was hiding.
“Yep.” I lifted her from the counter, and she scrabbled over my shoulder to resume her monkey position. We snuck away from the women and wine, slipping into the basement where it was warm and quiet. Dad was sitting on an old recliner reading a copy of the Liberty Lantern, our weekly newspaper. He peeked over his reading glasses at us, blue eyes sparkling.
“That didn’t take long,” Dad commented.
“They talk too much after the wine bottle is opened.” Allison sighed dramatically, releasing the small hands clasped around my shoulders and dropping to the floor. “And I wanted to kick Uncle Mitch’s ass in NHL ’17.”
Dad and I both chuckled at the bad word.
“Okay, little girl, this is so on.” I peeled off my coat and boots, flopped down on the sofa that used to be in the living room, and patted the cushion next to me. “Prepare to be annihilated.”
She beat me fifteen to four. At my own game. We won’t even get into how she wiped up the basement with me on a Wii snowboarding game.
I ended up following her upstairs while she sang some lame song about beating me so bad I stank like a rotten potato.
“Tomorrow we’ll go snowboarding?” she asked when we stopped outside the room all the girls were sleeping in. You could hear the whispers and giggles leaking around the door and into the hall. Just thinking of seeing Shaun made my skin feel hot.
“Tomorrow we snowboard.” I kissed her head and nudged her at the door with my hip. She pumped the air with a small fist and ran inside to tell her sisters and cousins that she was hanging out with Uncle Mitch all day tomorrow.
“So, who cares? He’s a weird goalie with dumb ears,” One of the twins replied as the door shut in my face.
Ouch. Man, teenage girls are brutal chirpers. My ears weren’t dumb. Were they?
Needing a Little Christmas by Silvia Violet
“What do mean you’re not going to be with Dave’s family for Christmas? Why?”
I pulled the phone away from my ear. I’d known my mother would be upset, but her reaction was even more vehement than I expected.
“Apparently one of the junior partners at his firm isn’t nearly as boring as I am. They’ve been having an affair for months.”
My mother made a sound of disgust. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, and you are not boring.”
“I know, but Dave thinks I am.” And honestly, I thought he was probably right. I preferred to stay at home rather than go out. I spent most days in sweats and T-shirts. When Dave did drag me to a party with his socialite friends, I inevitably embarrassed him with my lack of knowledge of current affairs. I’d taken to hiding out in the bathroom writing notes for my next book on my phone. He’d even attempted to coach me in the art of party conversation. I’d used his lessons in a book but ignored them as they applied to me. The book had done well; readers found his suggestions hilarious.
When Dave told me I was not only an uninteresting social companion but boring in bed as well, I’d taken that seriously. I might prefer a quiet lifestyle, but I knew how to please a partner sexually. After pondering what I could do to shock him, I’d gotten my nipples pierced, something I’d secretly wanted to do for years.
He laughed.
I should have broken up with him that night. We’d only had sex a few times after that, and each time, Dave raced to completion, showered off the scent of me, and promptly fell asleep.
I heard my mother’s heels click against the floor, the sound reminding me to concentrate on the conversation. She must be pacing, something she always did when strategizing. “I’m so sorry, honey. Do you want us to cancel our cruise?”
That was the last thing I wanted. “Of course not. You’ve been looking forward to it for months. I’m fine. Really.”
“Are you sure?”
I held the phone between my shoulder and ear as I poured myself a generous measure of whiskey. “Yeah, things hadn’t been great between me and Dave for a long time.”
She huffed. “That doesn’t give him any excuse to—”
I held up my hand even though she couldn’t see me. “No it doesn’t. He acted like an ass, and I think he knows it. He moved out of his beloved apartment and told me I could keep it.” Not that I could afford it for long unless my next book was a runaway hit.
Mom sighed. “I don’t want you spending Christmas alone.”
After draining my drink, I’d wandered into my bedroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were red from lack of sleep, and they looked more hazel than their usual bright green. My curly dark hair stood out at odd angles. The stress of trying to meet the deadline for my book and trying to hold on to a relationship that had died long before I caught Dave fucking his colleague in his office hadn’t been good for my appetite. I’d lost weight, and the bones in my face showed prominently. I was definitely not looking my best, but
I wanted a few more days to wallow in self-pity.
“I really don’t want to be around anyone right now.”
My mom sighed. “But it’s Christmas.”
I ran my hand through my hair, making it stick out even more. “I’m not in the mood for holiday cheer.”
“Your dad and I can go on a cruise another year.”
“No, arranging this once was difficult enough. Rick and Cindy will want to spend next year with you since they’re with Cindy’s family this year. And Ally’s trip to California is a special one-time deal. This is our gift to you, and I won’t be responsible for screwing it up.”
“You wouldn’t be responsible, Dave would be.”
“I wasn’t exactly looking forward to listening to his family brag about how wonderful they all are. I’ll have a better time alone.” My mom’s pacing stopped, and I realized I’d said the wrong thing.
“Eli, why didn’t you tell us you didn’t want to go home with Dave? We would never have agreed to the cruise if we thought you’d be miserable at Christmas.”
I tried to backpedal. “It would have been fine. I enjoy visiting Boston, even if the company leaves something to be desired.”
“Hmm.” My mom didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe we could get you a ticket for the cruise. It might not be full.”
The cruise was supposed to give my parents some uninterrupted time together. And the last thing I wanted was be trapped on a ship with lots of happy, smiling people encouraging me to socialize while my mom fussed over me. “No, thanks. I really, truly would rather be on my own.”
“But what will you do?”
“Stay home and drown my sorrows in Christmas cookies and eggnog.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear. I’d known my mother would be upset, but her reaction was even more vehement than I expected.
“Apparently one of the junior partners at his firm isn’t nearly as boring as I am. They’ve been having an affair for months.”
My mother made a sound of disgust. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, and you are not boring.”
“I know, but Dave thinks I am.” And honestly, I thought he was probably right. I preferred to stay at home rather than go out. I spent most days in sweats and T-shirts. When Dave did drag me to a party with his socialite friends, I inevitably embarrassed him with my lack of knowledge of current affairs. I’d taken to hiding out in the bathroom writing notes for my next book on my phone. He’d even attempted to coach me in the art of party conversation. I’d used his lessons in a book but ignored them as they applied to me. The book had done well; readers found his suggestions hilarious.
When Dave told me I was not only an uninteresting social companion but boring in bed as well, I’d taken that seriously. I might prefer a quiet lifestyle, but I knew how to please a partner sexually. After pondering what I could do to shock him, I’d gotten my nipples pierced, something I’d secretly wanted to do for years.
He laughed.
I should have broken up with him that night. We’d only had sex a few times after that, and each time, Dave raced to completion, showered off the scent of me, and promptly fell asleep.
I heard my mother’s heels click against the floor, the sound reminding me to concentrate on the conversation. She must be pacing, something she always did when strategizing. “I’m so sorry, honey. Do you want us to cancel our cruise?”
That was the last thing I wanted. “Of course not. You’ve been looking forward to it for months. I’m fine. Really.”
“Are you sure?”
I held the phone between my shoulder and ear as I poured myself a generous measure of whiskey. “Yeah, things hadn’t been great between me and Dave for a long time.”
She huffed. “That doesn’t give him any excuse to—”
I held up my hand even though she couldn’t see me. “No it doesn’t. He acted like an ass, and I think he knows it. He moved out of his beloved apartment and told me I could keep it.” Not that I could afford it for long unless my next book was a runaway hit.
Mom sighed. “I don’t want you spending Christmas alone.”
After draining my drink, I’d wandered into my bedroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were red from lack of sleep, and they looked more hazel than their usual bright green. My curly dark hair stood out at odd angles. The stress of trying to meet the deadline for my book and trying to hold on to a relationship that had died long before I caught Dave fucking his colleague in his office hadn’t been good for my appetite. I’d lost weight, and the bones in my face showed prominently. I was definitely not looking my best, but
I wanted a few more days to wallow in self-pity.
“I really don’t want to be around anyone right now.”
My mom sighed. “But it’s Christmas.”
I ran my hand through my hair, making it stick out even more. “I’m not in the mood for holiday cheer.”
“Your dad and I can go on a cruise another year.”
“No, arranging this once was difficult enough. Rick and Cindy will want to spend next year with you since they’re with Cindy’s family this year. And Ally’s trip to California is a special one-time deal. This is our gift to you, and I won’t be responsible for screwing it up.”
“You wouldn’t be responsible, Dave would be.”
“I wasn’t exactly looking forward to listening to his family brag about how wonderful they all are. I’ll have a better time alone.” My mom’s pacing stopped, and I realized I’d said the wrong thing.
“Eli, why didn’t you tell us you didn’t want to go home with Dave? We would never have agreed to the cruise if we thought you’d be miserable at Christmas.”
I tried to backpedal. “It would have been fine. I enjoy visiting Boston, even if the company leaves something to be desired.”
“Hmm.” My mom didn’t sound convinced. “Maybe we could get you a ticket for the cruise. It might not be full.”
The cruise was supposed to give my parents some uninterrupted time together. And the last thing I wanted was be trapped on a ship with lots of happy, smiling people encouraging me to socialize while my mom fussed over me. “No, thanks. I really, truly would rather be on my own.”
“But what will you do?”
“Stay home and drown my sorrows in Christmas cookies and eggnog.”
Present Tense by Jordan Castillo Price
1
DIXON
Winter. It’s the time of year when frost etches pretty pictures on your windows and the world outside is nestled in a soft white blanket. A time when you get to snuggle up in your mismatched mittens, and no one comments on how many hot chocolates you’ve had—if you don’t start acting too hyper, anyhow.
I’ve always had a fondness for winter. And since there was snow on the ground and a nip in the air back when I first met Yuri, now I love it even more.
December is also traditionally a lucrative time for my people. While it’s widely known that Spellcraft has no business in politics or religion, nowadays Christmas is pretty secular. And who wouldn’t want to impress their special someone with a bespoke piece of Crafting?
My family had been working hard these past few weeks, and if my dad had his druthers, Practical Penn would be open on Christmas Eve to snag those last-minute shoppers. But our official Seer had negotiated Christmas Eve as one of his annual days off, and we didn’t dare break his contract by letting Yuri fill his shoes. Or wield his paintbrush, since shoes don’t really have anything to do with Spellcraft. And Rufus Clahd has unusually small feet.
Speaking of feet—there was still a bit of snow clinging to my shoes. I stomped it off on the welcome mat in my parents’ vestibule, then hung up my winter coat on the nearby coat tree. It was actually more like an alien life form than a tree, with a giant ball of winter coats up top that took up half the room. I’m not sure it was even possible to dig down to the innermost layers anymore. But if you did, you’d probably find something so old it had come back in style again. Maybe more than once.
My mother hustled in as I was draping my coat over the top of the coat-ball. Once my hands were free, she enveloped me in a big, squishy hug, and greeted me with, “Where’s Yuri?”
I adored the way she loved him as much as I did. “Picking up dinner.”
“That’s generous of him—but he really didn’t need to. We’ve got plenty of leftovers in the fridge.”
“What can I say? He insisted.” I steered Mom into the living room where my dad was clicking through channels from his favorite recliner. I gave him a kiss on the top of the head, then said, “You guys’ve both been working so hard lately, might as well let us pamper you.”
Mom settled into her chair with considerable arranging and re-arranging of her bulk—not unlike the way my cockatoo friend, Meringue, fastidiously fluffs her feathers as she’s settling onto her perch. “Just so it’s understood this isn’t a Christmas present.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, it’s not. He just wanted to do something nice.”
“Yuri might be a Seer, but he wasn’t raised in the Craft.”
“Trust me—I’m awesome at explaining our traditions. And Yuri knows. No gifts.”
Mom was skeptical. “Because there’s nothing less meaningful than being trapped into an endless cycle of reciprocal obligation with the people you’re supposed to love.”
“That’s just what I said.” Actually, it was more like, Spellcrafters don’t do Christmas presents. Same difference. “I think Yuri actually seemed pretty relieved.”
Dad paused in his channel-changing, looked at my mom and said, “Speaking of traditions, you told Dixon about the Magi…right?”
Normally, I would’ve presumed this was some kind of setup for a cheesy joke—except that my mother stopped rearranging herself and said, “I thought you did.”
“Magi?” I said. “As in the story about the guy who sold his pocket watch and the girl who cut off her hair?”
“As in the three wise men,” my mother said testily.
“That sounds kind of…biblical.” I could’ve sworn my mother thought the Bible was full of baloney. Speaking of which, I hoped Yuri remembered to grab us a nice relish tray, since I was feeling a mite peckish.
“I’m sure it’s all just superstition,” Dad said.
Mom gave him her patented single-squinty-eyeball look. “And since when does superstition stop a Spellcrafter from doing something? Everyone knows superstition is just the poor cousin of luck. The way my parents explained it to me, the Magi were the first Seer and Scrivener.”
I supposed legends had to start somewhere. “But aren’t there supposed to be three Magi?”
“The third guy was their customer,” Mom said. Huh, lucky him. I wonder if they Crafted a way for his camel to go faster…or at least not spit so much. “The Magi didn’t turn up for every single one of their messiah’s birthdays bearing gifts…just the first one. And so, it’s Scrivener tradition to surprise your partner with a small gift on your first Christmas together.”
“In fact,” my father said, “it’s bad luck if you don’t.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?”
Mom looked somewhat chagrined. “We meant to say something. You know how crazy it’s been at the shop.”
“And now I’ve got nothing for Yuri!” I scrambled to recall if I’d seen any stores open on our way over, but all I could think of was the car wash with the big inflatable noodle-guy flailing around in the parking lot. Was a premium car wash a good gift? Maybe for some people. But if I ran the pickup truck through the high-powered water jets, I’d likely blast off the rust that was holding on the fender. “It’s too late to shop online, and all the local stores are closed.”
“How about the gas station?” Mom suggested. “The one by the highway to Strangeberg is open twenty-four-seven.”
Dad set down the remote, pried himself from the recliner and dusted his hands together. “Before Dixon tries to figure out how to make an air freshener and a bag of pork rinds look festive, I suggest he take a gander at The Stash.”
The Stash was Dad’s collection of assorted useable objects that just needed a little TLC to bring them back to their former glory. In theory, it was a great resource for someone looking to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon tinkering at the workbench. But in reality, my father just can’t stand seeing anything of potential value being thrown away…and he likes gathering things a lot more than he likes fixing them. I wasn’t quite sure how much longer I could count on the supermarket keeping Yuri busy—but since those places are more cutthroat on Christmas Eve than a roller derby, I hoped I could head down to the basement and find some random item that would pass for a thoughtful gift.
Unfortunately, the current state of The Stash was less than encouraging. You’ve seen organizing shows where a stack of plastic bins makes a roomful of stuff miraculously fit onto a closet shelf? This wasn’t like that. At all. Cheap plastic storage containers teetered in tall stacks, and because they were all from some no-name bargain bin, most of them were cracked or warped, and none of them quite fit together.
Still, an invitation from my father to go through The Stash was not to be taken lightly. With Mom always hinting that she’d take great pleasure in throwing it all away, over the years he’d grown protective. But as I rifled through bin after cracked plastic bin, I wasn’t so sure there was anything there worth protecting. Jewelry—not even the good stuff, with its faux gemstones and plastic pearls scattered like ball bearings in the bottoms of the containers. Weird kitchen gadgets you might buy on TV when insomnia struck. Kitschy little statuettes that needed a touch-up to their paint job. And while I did know my way around a paintbrush—I’ve always been fond of flourishing—I strongly suspected Yuri was the wrong audience for the big-eyed baby statuettes and chubby-cheeked cherubs. He’s none too keen on looking at an inanimate object only to find it looking back.
“Aha!” my father said. “This looks promising.”
Too bad that exclamation could only work so many times. And since I couldn’t really see Yuri being particularly enthused over a broken foot massager or a promotional backscratcher, it took me a moment to realize precisely what had been plucked from the teetering stack. “Dad…is that what I think it is?”
“No clue. I’m still trying to get the top open.”
“That box you’re holding…it’s my favorite box!”
Dad looked skeptical. “It’s just your average cardboard box, Dixon.”
“You say average like it’s a bad thing—but just look at it. Not too big, not too small, not too flimsy, and not too thick. In short, it’s an absolutely perfect box. I thought it was long gone, smashed flat in some far distant recycling bin. But here it is!” I took it from his unresisting hands with a happy sigh. “In all its boxy glory.”
“And even better, if you look inside, you might find something for Yuri.”
After a few tries, the old cellophane tape yielded to my thumbnail, and with great eagerness, I pulled open the flap. And inside was….
Another box.
Not a cardboard box, but a wooden box. A fancy wooden box—very sturdy. Very solid. And very elaborate. My breath caught as I held it up to the fluorescent light and said, “What’s this?”
“Dunno. Open it and see.”
When I popped the seal, a smell wafted out that was mostly dust, but something else, too. Oranges. Cloves. And beneath it all…cedar. I opened the lid to a bunch of wood shavings. “I hope there wasn’t originally a hamster in here.”
“Potpourri,” my father said decisively. “All the rage in the eighties. You’d be hard-pressed to find a bathroom without it.”
I gave the box a dubious shake. The smell of mingled spices tickled my senses.
Dad said, “That lid’s awfully plain, though, don’t you think? Maybe you’re holding it upside down.”
I flipped it over and discovered he was right. The actual lid was very decorative. Unfortunately, there was a word etched within the carvings. A very unfortunate word.
Poopourri.
My heart sank. “Well, that’s a shame. I was just thinking Yuri would actually like this. But he’s never once laughed at an American pun. Not in my presence, at least.”
“Maybe he’s just never found the right one.” Dad eyed the lettering. “Though as jokes go, this one’s not so hot. But take a look at the etching. It’s pretty shallow. You could add some flourishes with a wood burner and turn the word into a decorative design.”
I’d only ever seen my father use the wood burning tool to singe our name onto our patio furniture in case any of our neighbors ever decided to appropriate it—which they never did—but it seemed straightforward enough. I’m no artist. Not like Yuri, with his ability to evoke a morning mist with a swipe of a half-cleaned brush or a distant horizon with a single horizontal stroke. But all Scriveners receive extensive calligraphy training, so decorative elements like cartouches and ornaments were certainly in my calligraphic vocabulary. As I considered the shape and position of the current lettering, the bowls and stems of the letters shifted in my mind’s eye to become the twigs and fruits of an elaborate bouquet of holly. Seasonal, yet secular.
In other words, perfect!
Promise by RJ Scott
One
Leo
I wish I could stop thinking about Jason Banks.
I was up here in my meditation spot to settle my mind, but it was Jason’s face that front and center in my thoughts. It didn’t even help that getting up here to the top of the hill had been freaking exhausting. It used to be a matter of running for a few minutes, but as I had my leg in plaster, it had taken me a good half-hour just to get this far.
I pulled out a bowl and water for Cap, with another bottle for me, and stretched my heated muscles, wincing in pain, and wishing the cast I had from mid-thigh down was gone and that I wasn’t worried about where the hell Jason was, or what the hell he was doing.
I’d seen something in him, thought he could do better than being one of the bad guys, and all I wanted to do was find him now.
“You’re an idiot,” I said to myself, Cap sitting next to me and nudging my good leg. He looked up at me in expectation probably thinking that I was talking to him. So I scratched behind his ears and attempted to chill.
From there, I could see the sparkling water of our swimming pool, as well as Gina doing yoga in her back yard. Which reminded me, I needed to get Eric back for the whole tuna-casserole-not-even-on-a-special-day thing, and I filed that away for later. Given he was spending so much time away from home right now, what with fighting some of the worst fires we’d seen since Paradise, it’d be difficult to slot that in. But as soon as he was home safe, I’d manage it. I didn’t doubt he’d make it home okay, because positivity helped, and there was no way I was going to fixate on what might happen to him.
I could see the main road that snaked into the canyon where I lived, and my house looked smaller from up here, but the water of the pool was still visible, and it was on that that I focused for a moment, before I clambered down to sit on the tiny blanket I always took with me in my backpack. Then I concentrated on my family and friends, and the worst of it all, the Cali fires that had taken Eric away from us again.
There was no evidence of smoke on the horizon from the fires that raged up in San Bernardino over one hundred miles away, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t imagine they were there. I sent up a quick prayer for Eric, knowing he was up in the hills fighting that town destroying monster. He’d been gone four days now; I doubted I’d see much of him for a few weeks with everyone on call, and I worried about him daily or hourly, now that I didn’t even have work to distract me.
Cap laid next to me, his nose on his paws, panting softly, and this was how things went when we were out for a run, and even though this was more of an awkward crutch-walk, Cap knew the routine completely. Stop, drink, think. And for me, pray.
I murmured words I’d memorized as a kid in my new home that felt familiar on my tongue and eased me into thinking about why I was up here in the first place.
Today, I feared for Eric, but I it wasn’t just that. I had too many demons haunting me for Eric’s safety to be all I prayed about.
For the first time in a long time, I’d had no one to bring the things I’d seen home to. Eric was on duty right now, but he was spending more and more time at Brady’s place anyway, particularly since they’d gotten engaged a few weeks back. And as for Sean, he was working long hours, and anyway, he had Ash and Mia in his life. The three of us did sometimes meet each other when we needed it most, but in this last month, for one reason or another, there’d been no one, and then I’d broken my leg, and I guess no one would think I needed them right now.
I could tell God about the nightmares I carried inside me; that was how it went, but up until now, I’d kept my anger to myself. This morning I was saving every thought I had for Eric in the fire zone. Keeping the pain in my heart unspoken was an easy thing to do. I trusted that God could see into my soul, but why would he want to look into mine, I don’t know. I wasn’t anything special, just a broken kid who’d been given a wonderful second chance but who couldn’t forget where his life had begun.
And then there was Jason’s face in my thoughts again. The ex con who’d saved Eric’s life had been released from prison, and vanished from my radar, and I didn’t like it one little bit.
“Where did you go?” I asked the sky, but got nothing back at all.
Cap rolled onto his back, dislodging my grip, and panting. The sun was higher now, and the shade from the trees was lessening.
Heknew it was time to go and I knew it was time to go. So, even though I didn’t feel much better mentally than before my prayer, I scrambled to stand, balancing awkwardly on one crutch and my good leg. I collected the bowl, the water bottles, and the blanket, shoving it all into my backpack and then stood quietly for a moment. The vista of La Jolla laid out before me, the love I found in family and friends, I was thankful for all of it, and I sent up one last part to my prayer.
“Please keep my family and friends safe,” I added in a whisper. “Amen.”
After a short pause, Cap and I headed back down to the house, him darting in and around me, vanishing back up the hill then coming back to me with a stick so big it overbalanced him. I narrowly avoided being knocked down but managed to swap the stick for his beloved Frisbee, and he danced all around me until I threw it, barking with utter joy.
Answering calls from my siblings while still on my morning walk had become a thing, it seemed. Why did they appear to time it like that I didn’t know, but I had a suspicion they’d planted a tracker on me somehow, and as soon as I put on Cap’s leash and headed for the hills, that was when they called. It was easier to ignore them when I was running the course I’d created, but now I was using crutches and walking I couldn’t even use that as an excuse.
“What now?” I answered with affection because I didn’t mind the calls, I just pretended I did; it was a sibling thing.
“That’s no way to answer the phone, Turt.”
“Fuck you, Pot.”
My younger brother sniggered. Changing my name from what it was, Leo, all the way up to Leonardo, and then making a Ninja Turtle reference, and finally just to Turt, had been his way of fitting in when our parents had first brought him home.
Unfortunately, it had stuck, even though I was a grown-up now, and Reid was a cop the same as me, with a wife and two children. Pot was short for Reid-apottamus, Turt was short for Turtle, and that was it. We’d become Turt and Pot, and it was an affectionate thing that I loved. Only I’d never tell him that because he’d use it to a conniving advantage. The four Byrne siblings carried their stupid nicknames with pride—Pot, Turt, Jax-man, and Loner—and using them often left those outside the circle bemused.
“How’s the leg? Still broken?” He snorted at his joke.
“It’s been two weeks, so yeah, it’s still broken, thank you.” Broken, courtesy of a perp who had decided climbing a roof was a good way to get away from my idiot of a partner, which necessitated me following the perp onto said roof, and then falling. One mid-high break in my tibia later and I had a cast from mid-thigh down, which itched like a bitch. I was forced to use up all my sick leave, and I wasn’t even being allowed back on desk duty. Fuckers.
“Ouch,” Reid tried for concern, but even though he was my brother and I knew he cared, there was clearly something else he wanted to talk about.
“Thought I’d let you know I’m going to paint Mama’s room.”
“Okay, and?”
“She wants it done, and I need to ask her to babysit for a long weekend in the new year.”
“She’d babysit anyway.”
“I just want to grease the rails and I wanted you to know in case Jax talks to you.”
I snorted at that. Mama would see right through his offer to paint the rooms and why would Jax want to talk to me about it. “Wait, I thought we agreed that Jax was the chief painter of Mom’s house?”
Reid let out a derisive snort, “He’s busy. Doing what, I don’t know.”
“Probably running his renovations business and making it even more successful than it already is?” I deadpanned.
“Whatever, he’s an asshole.”
“You’re just pissed off because Toronto beat the Clippers last weekend.”
Jax and Reid had a healthy sibling rivalry over basketball teams, and I didn’t get involved, as I was more of a hockey fan.
“What kind of asshole supports a Canadian team when we have a perfectly good team not far from here we can root for.”
“You’re forgetting Jax is Canadian,” I reminded him, for what must’ve been the hundredth time.
“Whatever, later.”
“Later.”
As soon as I managed to make it home, cursing my leg, and life in general, I refilled Cap’s water bowl, and he lay flat out in the shade near the AC unit. Then I headed up for a shower, which was an awkward mess in itself, what with wrapping everything in plastic and trying to balance while doing it.
Sean had told me not to push it, but I’d be damned if I was sitting around and doing nothing, so after the shower, I wondered what I could do next. Gardening? Christmas shopping… given it was getting closer to the big day? I’d filled my days so far looking for Jason, thinking about what he was doing, wondering how I could help him, contemplating the kiss we’d shared, and the way I’d shoved him away.
Yeah, none of it would leave my brain because I had too much time on my hands.
Coffee on, standing in my cool kitchen, I stared out the window at the front of my house, down past the paved front yard to next door where Sean had moved when he’d married Asher.
I wished I could shake the feelings of discontent gripping me as I leaned on the counter, all alone in this big house. I wished I could go and visit next door. I had this desperate urge to take Mia to the park. That always helped when melancholy loneliness hit me, but I knew Sean, Asher, and Mia wouldn’t be back for an hour or two; some meeting in LA for the adoption they were researching, so there went that idea. They would provide such a good home for a child in need, or children, and I’d already done my bit, writing a statement on the kind of men they were, and now I had to back off while they went through the process.
I was a man of action, the one who organized, cajoled, sorted, and sitting on my hands where the potential adoption was concerned was killing me. Not to mention my other friend being up where the fires were only just getting under control.
A hummingbird flittered past the window, and I let out a heartfelt sigh as it hovered by a bush, dashing back and forth every so often, and then darting over to next door. I followed its trajectory, and couldn’t help but smile; there was something about the tiny birds that fascinated me and infuriated Cap. He was yet to catch one, and never would, they were too fast, too wily, and he was never going to win the game of tag when he considered hiding behind a small bush was good enough camouflage not to be seen—idiot dog.
A flash of color caught my attention, scarlet against the wood of Ash’s porch, and I leaned awkwardly over the sink to get a better look. There was movement, someone standing there, and for a second, I thought it was Ash, and I felt lighter. They were home! I could go visit and make my pitifully lonely day infinitely better with a Mia-hug. Even if she did call me Fido, which was Eric’s fault, the asshole. The figure moved again, and I couldn’t quite see, but I knew enough to see it wasn’t my friends, or Mia, or anyone I recognized. Maybe it was a neighbor? Was I ready to face the possibility of a random tuna bake delivery from Gina-the-vampy-cougar just to see another person right now?
Hell yes, this was another human and someone who might want to talk to me.
“Wanna go for another walk?” I asked Cap, who went straight to the door, nosing at the leash which hung there. He’d go for a hundred walks a day if he could’ve. I clipped it to his collar, then grabbed keys and my crutch and headed outside, straight across my yard and over to Ash and Sean’s.
I could see a man there, broad-shouldered, dressed in jeans and a bright red T-shirt, and from this vague sideways view, I could see he was carrying something heavy.
“Can I help you?” I asked, and he turned to face me. I recognized him immediately, the same man I’d spent the time since my accident obsessing over and trying to find—Jason freaking Banks.
“Jason?”
He was standing in front of me, a child in his arms. He had a scruffy beard, blood matted from a cut on his lip, his left eye swelling, and his T-shirt ripped. He was motionless, blue eyes wide, staring at me as if I was going to arrest him. Christ, he was a mess, and desperate. I’d seen that look, too many times to ignore it.
“Jason?” I repeated when he didn’t answer.
He snapped back to stare at me, his gaze wary. Years of training kicked in, and I was careful not to move closer because I’d seen this kind of wide-eyed fear and bewilderment before. Jason was haggard, holding the girl tight, and poised to run.
“Help us, please.”
A Very Genre Christmas by Kim Fielding
1
Portland, Oregon — December 1954
“Hey, Nick. We’ve got another one.”
“I’ll be over right away, sweetheart.” I hung up the phone receiver but remained seated in my padded desk chair. Amelia Sansone had sounded annoyed instead of afraid, so I didn’t have to hurry. I finished my cigarette and whiskey, then took a minute to make sure my Colt was fully loaded. I shouldn’t need it on a call like this, but in my line of work, assumptions get you dead.
Out in the reception area of my office, Carmilla Karnstein paused her typing and watched as I buttoned on my overcoat. I’d met her during one of my previous jobs for Amelia, and she’d ended up as my secretary. She was an odd duck, but she arrived at work before dawn and never left before sunset, and she was a whiz at getting bloodstains out of my clothes—a favor I needed pretty often.
“Another one at the bookshop?” Her husky voice seemed a mismatch for her delicate frame. But she was older than she looked, and her pale beauty was only a façade for her sharp mind.
I set my fedora on my head. “Yeah. I doubt I’ll be back after, so lock up for me, please.”
“Of course. Good luck, Mr. Bozic.”
I tipped my hat and headed out.
It was a typical winter afternoon in Portland, gray and drippy, with mist obscuring details and blurring edges. I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred this weather to bright sunshine, which brought false promises. And anyway, I was in a good mood as I walked down Burnside toward Sansone Booksellers. Although Amelia had some dough, I’m not sure I’d have charged her for these jobs. The city paid my bills for these particular calls, and the city paid well.
My office was in a third-floor walkup across the street from the Chevy dealership, but Sansone’s was in a more upscale location on 6th Avenue, near the Fred Meyers. Her retail space occupied the bottom two floors, her office was above that, and the top two floors contained apartments she rented out. She could’ve saved herself a lot of grief by moving somewhere else, away from the Rift, but business was good where she was, and she was too stubborn to budge. For a dame who’d been left with nothing after her husband bought it on Okinawa, she was doing well for herself.
Amelia met me as soon as I entered. She was a small woman whose gray suits always appeared to be swallowing her, and she kept her light brown hair in a pixie cut to avoid fuss. “You walked again instead of driving?” she said by way of greeting.
“Needed the exercise. Besides, takes less time to walk than to find a place to park near your joint.”
“Suit yourself.”
I took off my hat and followed her to the back stairway. “So, what’ve we got this time? It ain’t another kid, is it? That one was a pain in the ass.” He kept waving a stick around and saying words that Amelia told me were mostly bad Latin. I was glad when we sent him back home.
“No, and it’s nobody you’ll need to shoot, so you can keep that gun tucked away.”
I shrugged. You never can tell who’ll need shooting. Then I had a hopeful thought. “Is it another guy wearing nothing but that, uh….” I waved vaguely around the region of my groin.
Amelia gave me a knowing look and shook her head. “Loincloth? No. This one is fully dressed.”
Shame. Now that fellow had been something to look at, with long black hair and gray eyes, and he had a lot of interesting stories about apes and other animals. He was athletic too. I took him to Forest Park, partly because I wanted to watch him in action, and he’d swung from fir branch to fir branch as easy as you please. That had been a pretty sight.
The first flight of bookshop stairs was wide, with pale marble steps and a polished wooden railing, but the second—used only by employees—wasn’t for show. A little window on the landing had a view of the alley and the grayish building on the other side.
“You’re not gonna give me any hints about this one?” I coaxed Amelia as we ascended the final part of the staircase.
She got an odd expression, one I couldn’t read. “We have a big display of Christmas titles out now.”
Well, that wasn’t enlightening.
Whenever the Rift shifted, the results ended up in a dead-end hallway on the third floor, just around the corner from Amelia’s personal office. Nobody knew why, although the eggheads at that commie college across the river liked to throw around fancy words and call them theories. In any case, after the first couple of times, Amelia had arranged for iron bars to be installed across the hallway, forming a sort of jail, with a heavy lock holding the gate closed. That kept most of the results contained until they could be dealt with, although a few had managed to slither or ooze through the openings, and a muscular blond guy with a giant hammer had smashed his way right through the wall. Then he’d jumped, apparently under the impression that he could fall forty feet with no problem.
That one hadn’t ended well.
I didn’t draw my Colt, but I made sure my coat was unbuttoned, and I kept my hand hovering near the holster as we turned the corner.
“Oh jiminy, ma’am, I thought you were never coming back!”
I stopped walking so suddenly that I almost tripped over my own feet.
A man stood inside the makeshift cell, his hands wrapped around the bars. He was a good four inches shorter than my five-ten, slender, probably in his late twenties. His pale straight hair hung to his shoulders in back and swooped across his forehead in front, and he had a slightly pointed chin, pink cheeks, and enormous cornflower-blue eyes.
But it was his clothing that had thrown me for a loop: shiny red boots; red-and-white-striped stockings; an emerald-green tunic with red belt, cuffs, and collar; and a floppy, pointed green hat. With a giant bell at the end.
And did I mention that his ears were pointed too?
I turned to Amelia. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Detective, meet Evindal, the Christmas elf.”
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
Silvia Violet writes bad boy M/M romance. She can be found haunting coffee shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at her laptop. Silvia typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like "Do you write children's books?" She loves watching the looks on their faces when they learn what she's actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinfully delicious treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading to her incorrigible offspring.
She also writes high heat paranormal romance with shifters of all descriptions under the pen name Silvia Onyx.
Author and artist Jordan Castillo Price is the owner of JCP Books LLC. Her paranormal thrillers are colored by her time in the midwest, from inner city Chicago, to small town Wisconsin, to liberal Madison.
Jordan is best known as the author of the PsyCop series, an unfolding tale of paranormal mystery and suspense starring Victor Bayne, a gay medium who's plagued by ghostly visitations. Also check out her new series, Mnevermind, where memories are made...one client at a time.
With her education in fine arts and practical experience as a graphic designer, Jordan set out to create high quality ebooks with lavish cover art, quality editing and gripping content. The result is JCP Books, offering stories you'll want to read again and again.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Kim Fielding is the bestselling, award-winning author of over 60 novels and novellas. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, horror, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.
Having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls California home. She lives there with her family, her cat, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
Silvia Violet/Silvia Onyx
EMAIL: silviaviolet@gmail.com
Jordan Castillo Price
RJ Scott
Kim Fielding
Needing a Little Christmas by Silvia Violet
Present Tense by Jordan Castillo Price
Promise by RJ Scott
B&N / iTUNES / iTUNES AUDIO
KOBO / AUDIBLE / GOOGLE PLAY
A Very Genre Christmas by Kim Fielding
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