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Summary:
Snowed Inn
One drunken phone call with a desperate plea for help and an admission of love, and Patrick races to stop his best friend from marrying the wrong man.
Patrick never stopped loving Declan, even if he did shove him away at graduation when they kissed. His alpha-type brothers and father, with all their firefighter history, would never accept him being bi, or understand his need to step outside of the family firm and be a cop. So, he hides how he feels, and ends up losing the only man he’s ever really loved. The only reconciliation they tried was on the night he found out Declan was engaged, and he never imagined he’d have a chance to make things right. That is, until he receives a desperate phone call from Declan asking to be rescued. Through travel chaos and storms, Patrick finally reaches the venue in the Colorado mountains, but with an empty wedding room and no sign of Declan or the fiancé, he knows he’s too late.
All too familiar with rejection, jilted by his fiancé on his wedding day, and lost, Declan has no idea what comes next. He never imagined he’d be entirely alone after his former fiancé and the wedding party leave, or that an avalanche would trap him in the hotel over Christmas. And worse? Patrick is in the hotel with him and won’t leave him alone. Sharing a room with his former best friend is the last thing Declan wants, but maybe nature has given him a sign that he needs to confront the past and find a way to move on with his life. If only it was easy to fall out of love with the man who holds your heart.
All the books In the Snowed Inn collection are standalone stories and can be read in any order.
Original Review December 2022:
In my experience, forced proximity tropes are either absolutely brilliant or complete full-on checklist of cliches, Stop the Wedding falls into the former: BRILLIANT!
What makes it tip the scales to brilliant? I don't want to give too many details away but I loved the whole friends to lovers journey. Declan and Patrick have a long history and lack of communication leads to most of their problems but I am a firm believer in fate and timing. Did I want to smack their heads together a few times? Yes. Were there a few instances where had I been there with access to an iron skillet they would have been in for a headache or two? Probably. Some might find a story invoking those kind of feelings a turn-off but not me. For me, that "need to smack" characters means I'm getting into the story so deeply, the author has sucked me in until I feel a part of the story, like I'm right there next to all the action. Definitely a win win feeling.
If you are even remotely familiar with RJ Scott's work then you know she's all about the HEA so the end result is not really a mystery but watching Declan and Patrick get there is pure holiday gold. One of my favorite moments was when Patrick encounters a fellow strandee who seems slightly confused and Patrick goes into cop mode to protect. It is a small scene but it's a scene that says so much and I think it helps to provide a moment of clarity for Patrick. By this time the men have talked and admitted things and their journey has started a new course so that moment of clarity might not effect the couple's road map but you just know that everything that was still "iffy" becomes clear. This scene probably spoke to me more as a caregiver than it would to most so I just had to shine a little spotlight on it.
So long review short: Stop the Wedding is a lovely holiday romance that warms the heart. Some might say it's angtsy, more so than they normally want at the holiday but I think holiday stories are the perfect time for drama. Emotional and holiday go hand in hand in my mind and when written well there is nothing better and Stop the Wedding is definitely written well.
One last series note: Snowed Inn is a multi-author series of standalones with the only real follow thru being the avalanche that traps the main characters at The Retreat. The entries can be read in any order although if I'm completely honest I'm glad I read RJ Scott's Stop the Wedding first simply because there are the occasional wedding(or non-wedding) comments, none of which really effect or play a role in any of the other entries but I was glad I knew what they meant having read Wedding first. But that's more a personal preference of mine than an actually need to know scenario. I still have a couple of entries to read but so far they are all topnotch.
Snowed Inn
An avalanche, a quaint Christmas inn, and an assignment to sit on an international thief until the cops can arrive. What could go wrong?
Felix can’t believe his luck when a perfect stranger offers him the use of a pre-paid cabin at a mountain inn. He’d planned to ignore Christmas this year, working through the holidays in his job as a nurse in a Denver maternity ward. After all, Christmas won’t be the same without his beloved mother, who recently passed. But the inn, decked out like a Hallmark movie set, is the perfect place to soothe his heart, rekindle his Christmas cheer, and maybe even find romance? When a gorgeous ex-Marine befriends him and sticks by his side through a whole day of Christmas activities, Felix thinks he’s found true love.
Riggs’s plans for a ski vacation are buried when an avalanche blocks off the mountain inn where he’s staying from the rest of the world. A midnight phone call enlists Rigg’s help watching a guy on the FBI’s Most Wanted list who is supposed to be staying at the inn. The FBI and the police can’t get through until the avalanche is cleared. Riggs steps up to do his duty one more time. But the man who is supposed to be The Falcon, an international thief, has one hell of a Clark Kent type alter ego, because he seems like the sweetest man Riggs has ever met. The more time they spend together, the more attracted Riggs becomes to him, and the more determined he is to make The Falcon reveal his true colors.
Will love prevail? Or will the law?
A Changeling Christmas is a mistaken identity, snowed in together, rom-com romance with all the Christmas feels.
Original Review December Book of the Month 2022:
Sometimes things are just too good to be true and that might just be what Felix is facing when a stranger offers him the use of his cabin. What makes it too good to be true is something you have to find out on your own but it's the perfect setup for Felix and Riggs, another stranger Felix meets who is determined to stay by Felix' side.
Secrets of different levels are embedded in layers throughout the story and when the men are faced to confront said secrets is it too late to find happiness? Perhaps. Are they too much for the pair to overcome or is it just a perfectly setup holiday tale by the Queen of Christmas? You know my answer to that one: you have to read for yourself to discover that part of of this holiday tale.
There is probably a little more mystery element in A Changeling Christmas compared to the other entries in the Snowed Inn series, although there are a couple I haven't read yet. Is mystery an overwhelming factor? No. Does it make the romance more drama-centric? Perhaps. Does the holiday spirit get lost in said drama and mystery? Not at all! Some might think it unplausible that Felix would blindly follow the stranger's wishes but there comes a time when we all just need a break from life and this is Felix's chance for a short break. Course, if he only knew what following the stranger's wishes would lead to he may have taken another option but then he may never have met Riggs. So once again fate seems to know exactly what it's doing😉
A Changeling Christmas is not a story to be missed. Eli Easton has once again brought the holiday magic to life that entertains from beginning to end.
One last series note: Snowed Inn is a multi-author series of standalones with the only real follow thru being the avalanche that traps the main characters at The Retreat. The entries can be read in any order although if I'm completely honest I'm glad I read RJ Scott's Stop the Wedding first simply because there are the occasional wedding(or non-wedding) comments, none of which really effect or play a role in any of the other entries but I was glad I knew what they meant having read Wedding first. But that's more a personal preference of mine than an actually need to know scenario. I still have a couple of entries to read but so far they are all topnotch.
Stop the Wedding by RJ Scott
Chapter One
PATRICK
The day of the wedding
Declan wasn’t answering his phone or reading any of the hundreds of messages I’d sent him in the last two days since he’d called me. We hadn’t seen each other since the summer; not talked since he’d ghosted me, deleted me, decided enough was enough.
I couldn’t blame him.
I played his last message again, and again, until I knew it by heart, picked apart every detail, and heard every desperately sad hitch in his breath. I knew him; I should be there for him.
He needed me.
The message was long, rambling, and ended with a succession of beeps as he’d attempted to delete it.
Thank god he hadn’t managed to delete it at all. It was still here for me to listen to, and it shattered my heart every god damn time, because I had ignored him, too lost in my own misery that he was getting married to want to even listen to his voice.
His sexy, beautiful, voice.
“Hi, it’s uhm… it’s me… Declan, obviously… or not… uhm… I get you won’t answer this call, and that makes me so damn sad. I miss you. Look… I know things were said at the gallery opening, but I know you were trying to do the right thing with Lennox. It’s all you’ve ever done, looked out for me, wanted to find the best man for me.
I just hoped that, maybe, you’d see that it was you that I… no, that’s not what I wanted to say. I guess you’ve moved on, but I want to try for us to be friends again. I invited you to the wedding, but you never responded.
I miss you, Pads, I miss us, and when I sent you the invitation, I hoped that you’d call me, and you’d be my best man. I want to move on, but I can’t… shit… this is stupid, right? Because I could just as easily have called you. Fuck. Jesus, why is this so hard? I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. I don’t know why Lennox wants to marry me—apparently, he wants his brother at a wedding, and this was the only day, and it made sense for me to say yes.
Right?
I mean he said he wanted his brother at a wedding, not at our wedding, but I didn’t understand. I didn’t ask him what he meant by that.
Stupid.
Ignore that.
What I have with him might not be perfect, but I’ll try my hardest to be happy, so don’t worry… but… god… I wish you’d accepted the invitation. I wish you were here to be my best man, my best friend, even if you can’t love me the way I used to love you.
I wish you could rescue me from this… No… Shit, ignore I said that, too.
My head is all over the place.
I don’t need rescuing. I’m doing the right thing, and you’re in my past now. Look… just… please stay safe eh? No taking down criminal gangs and ending up shot… I needed you to know—it’s important you know— that you’re my best friend, and I will always love you, Pads, and, fuck, I hope you’re okay.
I just wish you were here to help me make sense of things.
I think I’ve done the wrong thing.
I don’t know.
Shit. Ignore that as well. I’m okay.
Just yeah… I wish you were here Pads.
Shit. Shit.
How do I delete this? I’m gonna delete this.
“Can you please drive faster?"
Bob-the-cab-driver didn’t answer, mostly because he was concentrating on not ending up in a snowdrift, and also it would’ve been the same answer he’d given me on the four occasions I'd already asked—that he was driving as fast as he could, and he assumed I wanted to make it to the inn alive.
I'd visualized the journey from the small local airport to the hotel because that was all I could look at on the many flights it had taken from Charleston, diverted to New York because of a snowstorm, stranded there, then through to Denver by train, car, and bus, then getting local flights. Leave the local airport, find a cab, head north, and on a good day the journey from door-to-door would be twenty-one minutes. Bob raised an eyebrow at me then concentrated on his driving. I sat back in my seat with an exasperated huff because if I was at the wheel right now, snow on the ground or not, I'd be pushing the speed limit. Of course, knowing my luck, I'd be pulled over by the cops before I even left the town, let alone made it up the mountain to the inn, but I had my ID, and I was still in the same suit I’d left Charlotte in, so I hoped they’d give a cop in service a pass when I told them the mad dash was a matter of life and death.
I wouldn’t tell them it was mostly a matter of love, because who would even rush madly cross-country this close to Christmas, through the snow, for love?
Bob navigated around yet another drift, and I hung onto the door as we swerved before the tire chains caught, and we were once again heading down the only road leading to the hotel. There were banks of snow on either side, but I should count my lucky stars I’d finally outrun the storm that had crippled the East coast and made my journey to this small mountain outside Denver near impossible.
“What’s waiting for you at the other end?” he asked conversationally, as if it were okay to take his eyes off his driving.
“Sorry?”
“Why do you need to be at The Rainbow Inn so quickly?”
“No, wait. What? I need to get to The Retreat.”
“Yeah, same place, just we call it The Rainbow Inn because…” He flapped his hand, and I wasn’t sure what he meant, although I thought he might be feigning a limp wrist, and that got my back up immediately. Still, I didn't have the energy to answer his questions about why the need for speed, fixated on the idea of getting to The Retreat before the worst of all things happened and I lost Declan forever. “Yeah, so why you going there?”
I used to love you.
“It's complicated," I offered in the well-worn tradition of offering nothing and hoping the person asking the question backed off.
“Aah.” Bob laughed. “Girlfriend trouble, huh?”
“No.” Please, just look at the road, then you can drive faster.
“Wife trouble?" He frowned into the mirror.
I needed him to stop the questions right now—not getting to the hotel in time was messing with my head, but I didn’t want to die before I’d had a chance to talk to Declan—not when I’d gotten this far. “Best-friend-who-is-a-guy trouble.”
“Ahh, so the best friend is the one with the girl trouble?"
Jesus. “Please, can you drive any faster?" I checked my watch again, and there was only ten minutes to go until the wedding started.
Six hundred seconds to let him know I’d been wrong, that I did love him, and he needed to know that before he married Lennox.
I was selfish, fucked-up, and grieving; and I’d been so stupid, hiding parts of myself so my family wouldn’t disown me, when in doing that I’d lost everything.
I held my breath as Bob rounded a tight bend, swerving to avoid a truck heading our way, and skimming so close to the snowbank I could’ve reached out and grabbed a handful of the white stuff.
Bob didn’t seem fazed, humming along to Mariah, bopping his head to the Christmas beat, yet still managing to keep the car on the road. How the man could sing, chair-dance, and drive was beyond me, but it was all too fucking scary, so I closed my eyes and focused on what I was going to say to Declan when I got there.
"We're nearly there," Bob announced.
I leaned to the side to stare through the front window past the banks of snow and got my first glimpses of The Retreat.
It was an old building—rustic and with a lot of wood—set back into and sheltered by a rocky overhang, and there was so much stone it was as if it had been built right into the side of the mountain. A circular driveway had us up to the front door. I thrust a pile of bills at the driver, not caring if I'd given him way too much.
“Good luck, son! Go get her!”
Clearly, he hadn’t heard a word I said, and I didn’t bother to correct him again.
“Thank you.” I grabbed my duffle, exited the car, and ran, jumping the steps to the front door three at a time and barging my way through so fast a man standing just inside tumbled backward into the wall in surprise.
“Sorry, I'm looking for the wedding hall."
He shook his head and shrugged, probably still in shock at the sight of the idiot in a worn, crumpled suit who pushed past him. There was a small line at the reception desk, but I bypassed everyone, slamming my hand down on the counter and frightening the women behind it. "The hall with the wedding, where is it?”
“Sir, there's a line." She was so startled her eyebrows vanished under her bangs, and she gave me a thorough once-over, and her eyes widened. I knew I was disheveled, exhausted, and travel-rough. Come on, just tell me where Declan is.
“Sorry, please, I don’t mean to be rude, I just need the hall with the wedding.”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, a woman in a ski cap. "I think it's that way." She pointed toward an area behind reception. I nodded my thanks and sprinted so fast past a few small boutiques that, I swear, I left scorch marks on the wooden floor. I went through the double doors with more care, not wanting to flatten anyone standing on the other side, and found myself in a corridor, with doors to the left and right. Where now? I glanced at my watch, seventeen minutes past eleven, and in my heart I felt that maybe I was just too late. “The wedding!" I shouted, not thinking through what I was doing, and rounded on someone who’d followed me through double doors.
“The wedding?” I repeated as the same woman who’d tapped me on the shoulder, sans ski cap, gestured to the middle door and the discreet sign to the side that said Essex Hall in small letters. I schooled my features into what I assumed was a pleasant smile of thanks, but the woman took a hurried step back, and I guessed my smile needed some practice. I didn't have time to apologize, and steeling myself for what I needed to do, I thrust open the doors and stepped into a vast high-ceilinged room. All I could see was white from flowers and ribbons, and I shouted as loud as I could.
"Stop the wedding!”
The room was empty. Beautifully decorated with pale roses and fairy lights draped everywhere, there was no one there. I slumped to the nearest chair, every breath I’d been holding sweeping out of me, and emotion knotting in my chest.
I couldn’t rescue him.
I couldn’t tell him I loved him.
I was too late.
A Changeling Christmas by Eli Easton
CHAPTER 1
Felix
Epic disaster: thy name is Felix Bordeaux.
My cheeks burned with humiliation, and disappointment churned in my gut. In fact, there was a whole host of miserable emotions littered around my feet like invisible crumpled-up Post-it notes. Maybe in a discount-bin shade of puke green.
I picked at the moist label on my beer bottle. The colored Christmas lights strung up over the bar danced along the brown glass and my hands. "I know what you'd say, Mom," I whispered. "It will happen when it's supposed to. But how can it ever happen when I'm a veritable black hole in any social setting? Horizon of Doom. That's me."
"Did you say something?"
I looked up to see a good-looking man standing near me at the bar. He was probably waiting to order a drink. I cringed. "Huh? No. I wasn't talking to you. Sorry."
I looked back at my beer bottle, turning it around and around. I'd had enough rejection for one night. I wasn't going to engage with anyone. Maybe ever! Yes, that was the only acceptable solution. I was never going to engage with anyone ever again. Except for my patients. But definitely not men. Or, at least, not men like that. No spank you. That was my Christmas promise to myself. Even if it only made me feel more miserable.
I waited for the guy standing at the bar to leave. But he didn't. I could still see him in my peripheral vision. Heck, I could feel him. He had an intense aura. I snuck another look. He was staring at me. Crap.
"I'd like to buy you a drink. Come sit at my table with me," he said.
"Me?" I looked around to make sure he was, in fact, talking to me.
"You." His voice was firm, and he didn't crack a smile. He had an air of authority like he was used to being obeyed. He turned and stalked away.
I hesitated. What did he want? He hadn't been eyeballing me that way. At least, I didn't think so. If this was a pickup, he needed to work on his game. Then again, tonight I'd sent the first two guys at Speed Dating fleeing for their lives before I'd slunk away in shame myself, so who was I to judge?
It was curiosity more than anything that made me pick up my beer bottle and follow him.
He took a seat at a small table for two. Awkwardly—because that's how I roll—I sat in the other chair. He proceeded to study me some more. I held my beer bottle and looked around to avoid his gaze.
The Retreat’s tavern was a warm space with rustic beams, dark wood tables and chairs, a pool table, and a big TV currently displaying a fireplace with holiday music. Christmas lights were strung everywhere, and there was a Christmas tree in the corner, all decked out with red bulbs and paper beer coaster ornaments. The place was nearly empty, but then, the speed-dating event was still going on. The one where I'd crashed and burned.
I snuck a look at the guy. Tallish, probably my height of six foot. Fit body. Dark hair worn to his shoulders and layered in an immaculate haircut. Piercing dark eyes. Huh. We looked sort of alike. Or, rather, he looked like me if I were a thousand times cooler and had my shit together so tightly it could have been Shapeweared.
I swallowed. "What?"
"I'm Alastor. And you are?" He finally cracked a smile. Maybe it was my imagination, but it was a little like seeing a shark smile.
"Um. Felix. Felix Bordeaux."
"Are you staying at the hotel, Felix?"
I shook my head. "I wish. No, I just drove up for the speed-dating thing, you know?"
"Isn't that going on right now?"
I felt heat on my cheeks again. "I, uh, left early."
He stared at me.
"It wasn't for me. I'm not good at meeting people." Understatement of the year. "I should have known better? I guess?" I huffed a bitter laugh. "In fact, the second guy I sat down with told me I needed a class in conversational skills." God, I could still see the sneer on his face. "The saddest thing is, he wasn't wrong. Only my friend, Dawn, she insisted I do it? She made me, actually. I had to drive up for the speed dating or she wouldn't let me take her shift on Christmas. So."
Alastor gave a slow blink. "She wouldn't let you take her shift on Christmas?"
I nodded. "I'm a nurse. I decided to work this year on Christmas Day so others could have it off. Like Dawn. This is my first Christmas since my mom died, see. And it couldn't really be Christmas without her. I figured I might as well work. Make up for all the years someone worked so I could have the holiday off. Not that there's been that many. I only graduated from nursing school a couple of years ago. But, hey, pay it forward. Right?"
I chuckled, but his face was utterly expressionless. I mentally kicked myself. I'd done it again. Mentioned my mom in the first sixty seconds. I was pretty sure that's where I'd lost the two guys I'd sat with in speed dating tonight. When would I learn?
I sighed. "Never mind. Thanks for the, um…." Oh, right. He hadn't actually bought me a drink. I stood up.
"Wait." Alastor grabbed my wrist. He managed to tug me back down into my seat while signaling for a waiter.
The waiter appeared out of thin air. "An Elijah Craig for my friend, Felix, here. Neat." He turned to me. "It's the best bourbon money can buy in Colorado."
"Oh. Uh. Thanks, but I have to drive home tonight. And I'm kind of a lightweight."
The waiter ignored me. "Right away, sir," he said to Alastor with the sort of deference I'd never received in my life. He scurried away.
"About that…." Alastor gave me another of those shark-y smiles. "I have a cabin here for three more nights, and it turns out I need to leave. Immediately." A flash of anger crossed his face. He downed his own glass in one long swig. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like "Lennox will pay for this."
"I'm sorry to hear that?" I said sympathetically, though I wondered where this was going.
Those dark eyes focused back on me. "The cabin's prepaid and nonrefundable. It's yours if you want it. Otherwise, it'll be wasted. Say yes, Felix. A wise man once told me—when opportunity crosses your path, grab it with both hands and hang on for the ride."
"I… really?"
"Yea, really," he said dryly.
I was about to say Oh, I couldn't, but I stopped myself. I'd driven up in time to have dinner here tonight, so I'd taken a little tour of the hotel and grounds. I'd been envious of the guests. How wonderful it would be to stay in a place like this for the holiday season. The Retreat was a gorgeous mountain lodge, and it was chock full of Christmas cheer with lush decorations and evergreen boughs against a backdrop of rustic buildings, stunning mountain views, and the snow…. It was like a movie set. How I'd wished I had the money, and the heart, to stay.
This was the first time I'd felt a hint of Christmas spirit all year. I'd ignored the approaching holiday because Mom was gone, and the thought of having it without her was too painful to bear. But being at the Retreat for a few days? That would be a dream. I counted in my head. It was the 22nd. I could stay three nights and drive back to Denver early to work the Christmas shift on the 25th. I wasn't scheduled until then.
It was as if it was fate—or a Christmas gift. I felt a swamping wave of gratitude. Is this your doing, Mom? Gosh, you're the best.
"I don't have the money to stay here," I said carefully. "So if you'd want to be reimbursed—"
"Free, Felix," Alastor said firmly. The waiter arrived with a dark drink in a short tumbler, just like the one Alastor had downed.
"Drink." Alastor pushed the glass toward me.
I hesitated. "I shouldn't."
"You won't need to drive tonight. Come on. Down the hatch, and then we'll go look at the cabin."
"I didn't bring anything with me."
Alastor gave me a judge-y look. "Opportunity is knocking, Felix. You drove here for a speed-dating event, so you took one chance tonight. Take this one. Drink."
He was so persuasive. I picked up the glass and sipped it. Gosh, it was strong. But there was a smooth heat to it that was nice. I started to put the glass down, but Alastor touched my hand and guided the glass back to my lips.
I drank, eyes on him. Was he coming on to me after all? Did he expect a quickie before he left? In exchange for the room? I'd come up here to meet a man, but this one looked too much like me to spark any desire. It was a little squicky, in fact. I didn't want to have sex with myself. I mean, I do have sex with myself. A lot. But I don't stare at myself in the mirror while doing it.
I finished the drink, and when I had control of my burning throat again, I blurted, "I'm not a narcissist!"
Alastor stood up and raised one eyebrow. "Good to know. I suppose one of us shouldn't be. Come on, Felix. Let's go."
My head spun as we left the hotel. I wasn't kidding when I'd said I was a lightweight. One beer, and I was super mellow. Two, and I'd be asleep within the hour. The bourbon, on top of the half beer I'd drunk, left me feeling like I was submerged in a warm pool of honey, and I couldn't stop smiling. If this cabin didn't work out, I'd be spending the night in my car.
The cold night air revived me a little as we walked out of the back of the hotel and crossed a service road. The cabins were clustered together among tall pine trees and oozed glamping charm. Their lights shone as if fairies danced with lanterns in the snow. Daw!
"They're so pretty," I said, my voice slurring a little.
Alastor grunted. "Mine is called Towering Redwood."
I snorted. "Is that a cabin or a medical condition? If it lasts for more than four hours, there's a number you could call." Gosh, I cracked myself up.
Alastor sighed. "This one."
He walked up to one of the cabins. And, yes, Towering Redwood was the name listed on a plaque at the door. Alastor unlocked it and switched on the light inside.
Dang, it was so cozy and charming and wonderful. Mom would love this so much. It looked like one of those Sundance catalogs. The main room had raw log walls and wooden beams. A comfy-looking sofa in gray with red plaid pillows and a sheepskin throw sat in the middle of the space. There was a bear rug in front of a fireplace—hopefully not made from real bear—and a horned chandelier. A narrow Christmas tree decorated with tiny white lights, white balls, and buffalo plaid ribbons added the perfect holiday touch. The kitchenette had pine cabinets and black appliances including —ohh!—a fancy coffee maker.
"The bedroom's this way." Alastor walked down a hallway.
I followed and peeked into a good-sized bedroom with a queen bed, red plaid flannel comforter and sheets, two rustic wood lamps, and a flat-screen TV on the log wall. White lights were strung around the log bedposts and made the whole room so romantic and homey.
"There's a full bath with shower and tub. Wine and snacks are in the kitchen. Oh, and there's a complimentary breakfast buffet at the lodge. Just show the room key." Alastor grabbed a black backpack from the closet and tossed it on the bed.
"Uh… Are you sure about this? I can really stay here for three nights?"
Alastor spun to me and grabbed my face with both hands. I gave an undignified little cry. His intelligent dark brown eyes stared into mine. Wow. We were exactly the same height. He looked annoyed. "Listen to me, Felix. Are you listening?"
"Mm? Your breath smells like cinnamon rolls. Is that the bourbon? Does my breath smell like cinnamon rolls?"
"Felix. I'm in a hurry. Got it?"
His tone was stern, so I nodded mutely.
"This cabin is yours, all expenses paid, for three nights. I only ask one thing in return. Are you listening?"
"Sure." I tried to smile, but he was smooshing my face.
"If anyone asks, you're me, Alastor Jeddard. Repeat it."
I frowned. "I don't lie. Mom always said lying was way more trouble in the long run."
Alastor's jaw ticked like he was grinding his teeth. "It's not lying. It's just… the place where I reserved it, it was a, uh, a special price and nontransferable. So if the hotel staff, or security, or anyone else asks, just say my name."
I still didn't like the sound of it. "But if they find out I'm not you, will I get in trouble? Will I have to pay? I can't afford this."
His jaw clenched again. "No, they don't actually care, Felix. They're just ticking a box. It's purely procedural. Say my name, and you'll be fine." He smiled and his tone softened. "It would be a favor to me. After all, the value of this cabin is over eight hundred dollars. You'd like to do me a favor just like I'm doing you one. Wouldn't you?"
"You should do nice things for other people whenever you have the chance. Put goodness out there, and it'll return to you. That was my mom's philosophy." Dang. Now I was serial quoting Mom. It had to be the bourbon.
Alastor blinked and nodded, his smile tightening ever so slightly. "Yes. That's right. Smart lady."
"She was."
"And you look like the sort of man who could use a vacation from being himself."
I frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, grab life, Felix. Escape from the same-old-same-old. Live a fantasy for a few days. Be me. What's the harm in that?"
What was the harm in that? Wasn't I just thinking what a disaster I was? Maybe I did need a break from myself. And being Alastor… it wasn't possible I could ever be that sure of myself, but it might be fun to pretend.
"So we have a deal, don't we, Felix?"
I thought about how nice this cabin was. And all the activities I'd get to participate in. And how it would actually make this year feel like Christmas after all. And maybe I'd meet a guy, if I was here for three nights. And what if Mom, now an angel in heaven, had nudged this opportunity my way. Who was I to refuse?
"Deal," I said.
Alastor let go of my face and gave a little sigh of relief. "Good. Now I have to go. Enjoy the cabin and don't forget our agreement."
Alastor grabbed his backpack from the bed. I watched him stuff things into it—mobile phone, a wallet, a small laptop, a few things from the bathroom. He bypassed the open closet, which was full of nice clothes. I followed him out to the main room where he put on a sleek black ski jacket that probably cost more than I made in a month. He attached a fancy pair of black leather dress boots to the bungee cords on his backpack and put on a different black pair of shiny ski boots.
He straightened up. "Well, that's it."
"What about your clothes?"
"I'm only taking the necessities. Do what you like with the rest."
Wow. That didn't sound right. "I can ship your things to you if you give me an address."
His eyes flashed something dangerous. "No! No address. That is, I'm not sure where I'm going next. Keep the stuff, toss it, or leave it here. I don't care."
He opened the door, letting in a cold blast of air. I followed him onto the porch where he grabbed the skis next to the door, carried them to a patch of snow in front of the cabin, and dropped them.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"What does it look like?"
"You're skiing? Now? At night?"
"There's a full moon. It's perfect skiing conditions."
He was right. The moon was full in the sky and the night was clear and cold. "Yeah, but… I thought you were leaving."
"So I am. Goodbye, Felix. And good luck."
He did some fancy maneuver where he planted one ski and one pole, turned, and he was off like a shot, looking like he'd been born on skis. Like he was the Aquaman of snow.
Was there a superhero who was, like, the master of snow? Snowman? No, that didn't sound right. There was no snow superhero. Missed opportunity there.
I watched as Alastor jumped a snowless patch of trail, swooshed between two cabins, and was gone.
"Thank you! And… make good choices!" I called after him, waving even though he couldn't see me.
Dang, he was skiing out? Guess that's why he couldn't take his luggage. What a weird thing to do. Why hadn't he just called an Uber if he didn't have a car?
Maybe he was a skiing fiend. Maybe there was a beautiful course between here and Chester Lake, the nearest town, and he just wanted to get in one more ski before going back to work. People could be passionate about that sort of thing.
I sighed. Why couldn't I be all cool and sporty like that? Devil-may-care? Sophisticated?
I laughed. "In my dreams. Huh, Mom?"
Still smiling, I went back into the cabin.
Saturday Series Spotlight
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.
Eli EastonHaving been, at various times and under different names, a minister’s daughter, a computer programmer, a game designer, the author of paranormal mysteries, a fan fiction writer, and organic farmer, Eli has been a m/m romance author since 2013. She has over 30 books published.
Eli has loved romance since her teens and she particular admires writers who can combine literary merit, genuine humor, melting hotness, and eye-dabbing sweetness into one story. She promises to strive to achieve most of that most of the time. She currently lives on a farm in Pennsylvania with her husband, bulldogs, cows, a cat, and lots of groundhogs.
In romance, Eli is best known for her Christmas stories because she’s a total Christmas sap. These include “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, “Unwrapping Hank” and “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miggles”. Her “Howl at the Moon” series of paranormal romances featuring the town of Mad Creek and its dog shifters has been popular with readers. And her series of Amish-themed romances, Men of Lancaster County, has won genre awards.
RJ Scott
Eli Easton
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