Summary:
Joe knows where he is going in life. But one crazy road trip just might change everything.
Joe Blankenship knows where he’s going. He’s on track to marry the boss’s daughter and become heir apparent to a multi-million dollar medical supply business. The financial security he never had growing up is within his grasp along with a glitzy Manhattan lifestyle. All he has to do is get to New York by Christmas Eve for his engagement party.
Joe didn’t count on getting grounded in Florida thanks to a hurricane. He couldn’t have anticipated having to rent a broken-down car for the long drive north. And he certainly never foresaw being stuck with a passenger like Remy Guidry, a sweet-natured Cajun boy, social worker at a children’s home, and free spirit. Remy is the opposite of everything Joe has worked for. But he just might teach Joe, not only the spirit of Christmas, but what’s truly of value in life.
Planes, Trains, and Hurricanes is a Christmas road trip, forced proximity, opposites attract romance.
Original Review January 2024:
I look forward to Eli Easton's Christmas story every year, she just has a way of bringing all the holiday fun blended with just the right amount of drama to make for a very enjoyable reading experience. Planes, Trains, & Hurricanes is yet another delicious Easton holiday yummy.
Planes has a definite Hallmark Holiday Movie feel and as someone who has seen more Hallmark holiday movies than I care to admit due to my mom's love of them, I can honestly say it is 10X better. I love it when an author creates characters that you not only love to cheer for but also want to know. I couldn't help but want to wrap Joe in a huge Mama Bear Hug and tell him to follow his heart's wants and not the journey he thinks he needs. As for Remy, well I want to also squeeze the life out of him in a tight motherly hug because he's just so darn adorable. How could I not want to know both of these amazing characters?
I love the whole hurricane obstacle too. Born, raised, and still living in the upper Midwest I have never lived through a hurricane but I certainly understand Mother Nature being in control and not being able to get to where you need to be. Can't say I would push myself to try and get ahead of the storm but then again I have never quite been in either man's position. Gotta love Remy's optimistic approach to everything though, also something I'm not sure I could have shared.
The author says Planes is an opposites attract, forced proximity, road trip journey. Road trip? Definitely. Forced proximity? Certainly. Opposites attract? On the surface. I say "on the surface" because to look at them then obviously opposites but I think the more we learn about Joe, or more precise the more he learns about himself, then maybe they aren't quite as opposite as originally thought. Whatever label you choose, Planes, Trains, and Hurricanes is a holiday reading must proving once again that Eli Easton is definitely the Queen of Christmas. If you're looking for man against Mother Nature stories than I highly recommend this story for that as well.
Summary:
Once Upon a Holiday Story
There’s no place like home for the holidays…
Especially if you hate them and want to pretend they don’t exist.
When the older man moves in next door with his two loud children and irritating pets, I ignore them. I don’t want my life to change.
Except it does. Between him and his kids, someone’s always knocking on my door needing something.
Or wanting to share delicious baked goods or a meal. I don’t need nice neighbors. I don’t want people in my space—especially ones with small, dirty fingers and a million questions.
But there’s something about his smile. The twinkle in his eyes and his merry laugh when it comes to all things festive…
He’s making me wish and dream and hope for holiday magic and mistletoe kisses. He’s making me believe in family.
Once Upon A Mistletoe Kiss is a part of the multi-author series Once Upon a Holiday Story. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Hook’s Book Nook Traveling Library, a library on wheels owned by two old ladies in love.
Slay Ride by Davidson King
Summary:
Saint Brothers #1
Christmas is a time for joy, family, and friends to gather around the tree and fill their hearts with love. Unfortunately, there are some people who don’t deserve happiness during the holidays.
Mason keeps to himself. His best friend, JJ, is the only one he chooses to be close to, plus his job keeps him busy. Excitement isn’t something he needs or wants in his life. One night, that all changes when he’s cornered, and his life is threatened. His saviors? Well, they turn out to be just as dangerous, and the mysteries surrounding them soon flip Mason’s world upside down.
Gabe and his brothers spend their lives making sure those who deserve death get what’s coming to them. The one person they never see coming is Mason. What for them should have been a simple rescue turns into even more chaos than they ever thought possible.
Enter the Saint brothers’ dark and twisted world on a slay ride that will have you on the edge of your seat, swooning for the bad boys, and trying to survive the fall of revenge.
**This was originally a short story that was part of the Christmas Anthology O Deadly Night Vol 1. It has since been expanded to a full-length novel. No Cliffhanger!
Original Review October Book of the Month 2023:
How is it possible that someone who can create such dark, twisted, and ethically ambiguous characters so expertly is walking around free and innocent in the world without creating such havoc and mayhem in their wake? Just kidding. Davidson King, though innocent may be a bit of a stretch in certain areas😉😉, obviously is a woman of two minds: 1. the lovely heartwarming person so many know and call friend and 2. the twisted, evil storyteller who loves to put her characters and readers through an emotional rollercoaster.
And HOLY HANNAH BATMAN! what a holiday rollercoaster Slay Ride is.
I say "holiday" because the story takes place as Christmas nears and for me even having just one scene makes a story or film a holiday entertaining good time. Of course, it doesn't hurt that as much as I love the Hallmark-y feel good holiday creations, a dark and twisted holiday tale of mayhem is right up my alley.
I don't do spoilers so I won't touch on particulars but I will say I thought Slay Ride had a little more, well not "off page" violence but the scenes of revenge and vengeance were perhaps not as descriptive as some of King's other works. That's not to say she glossed over anything because there is no doubts as to what is happening/happened to the characters, what drives the Saint brothers to do what they do. Personally, I think there are times when a story is better when certain elements are left to the reader to fill in with their mind's eye, especially when there is a question of ethics, do two wrongs make a right? For this reader, the need for justice and closure is definitely warranted and welcomed.
*Shhhh, don't tell anyone but between us, I would have loved to see certain characters suffer a bit more.*😉😉
As for the mains, Mason and Gabe? What a lovely duo they make. Sometimes we need that one special person to make everything fall into place, to wake up one's heart, to provide the missing puzzle piece. That is exactly what Gabe and Mason are to each other. There is no real "cute meet" for the pair, awkwardly flirtatious perhaps but not really cute and what happens next is most definitely not cute by any stretch of the imagination but it does set everything and everyone on a collision course that changes all involved.
Slay Ride is a dark and dangerous tale of revenge and vengeance but it's also a tale of friendship, family(blood and found), love, and loads of heart. Another great example of pure storytelling that may not be for the feint of heart but I for one am already looking forward to the next installment of the Saint Brothers, hopefully Shep and JJ's journey but whichever brother decides to clue Davidson King in on their path I'll be first in line to read.
Summary:
Christmas Falls: Season 2 #1
I never saw this Christmas gift coming...
When my ex-wife lands in rehab, I get a surprise for the holidays. A 7-year-old girl who's got no place to go. I love my former stepdaughter like she's my own, but I have no idea how to give her everything she needs.
In a holiday-crazed town like Christmas Falls, it seems inevitable I'll let her down.
Unless I finally let go of my pride and accept help from the new director of the Holiday Hope Foundation. Mason West is eager to lend support however he can. And when I let him, he goes above and beyond.
For Charlie's sake. Not mine. Even if I maybe, kind of, wish that it was for me.
I've never been into men before, but Mason is so sweet, so giving, so...perfectly sized to snuggle in against my holiday sweater. Maybe if I can figure out what all this means, I can gain more than a daughter for the holidays.
Maybe I can keep the gift I’ve always wanted most—a family of my own.
Christmas Falls: Season 2 revisits a small town that thrives on enough holiday charm to rival any Hallmark movie. It's a multi-author M/M romance series.
Saying No has to stop!
Heath’s negative attitude leads to the loss of his boyfriend, his job and the place he calls home. Now he’s determined to be a yes guy. Yes, he’d love to flat sit while the owner is away, though one look at the horrendous mess and after a painful tussle with a belligerent cat, he wishes he’d stuck to his usual no.
No is the last thing Tristan expects to hear when he proposes in front of his boyfriend’s friends and family. Humiliated, he hides out in his brother’s empty flat without asking, because does he really need to hear another no?
What he needs is a guy who’ll say yes…yes…yes… Could that be Heath?
Plane, Trains, and Hurricanes by Eli Easton
CHAPTER 1
December 22
The day I met Remy Guidry, there was an apocalypse. Not the apocalypse with a capital A but the lowercase kind that hits Florida on a regular basis.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Blankenship." The woman at the Delta counter didn't sound sorry. Nor did she look cheery despite the green wreath that was pinned to her chest. "All flights are grounded due to Hurricane Jack. No plane is leaving Miami today. Or tomorrow. Possibly the next day either."
This dire information matched the board of CANCELED flight designations that was visible just to my right. But I was deep in denial. "Seriously? We're just seeing the outer bands of the storm. And there's an evacuation notice. Surely, you'd want to fly out as many people as possible before it gets bad."
She arched an eyebrow and her gaze shifted to look over my shoulder. I turned my head and saw the lights of a few dogged taxis outside in the passenger arrivals area. They were blurry through the sheets of rain pelting down the glass windows. One of the taxi drivers held his hat as he fought the wind to get to the driver's door.
"Sorry," the woman said flatly. "As you can imagine, everyone wants to get home for Christmas. But we can't control the weather, sir."
"What about other airports? Can you get me a flight out of Orlando?"
She shook her head. "Orlando is down too. So is Tampa. I suggest you grab a hotel room while there's a taxi left to take you there. Oh, and I'd recommend one on higher ground."
She put up a plaque that said CLOSED. Her wreath pin blinked sadly as she walked away.
I dragged my roller bag through the airport, which was growing less populated by the minute. By the time I reached the rental car counters, it was as if humanity had never existed. Or, at least, that it had never wanted to travel anywhere. All of the counters were closed except for Budget where cheerful fairy lights threw disco vibes onto the lone employee at the counter. She was a middle-aged woman with a shellacked blonde beehive. I ran over and stopped in front of her, panting.
She smiled. "You look like a man who needs to get somewhere."
"God, yes…" I checked her name tag. "…Bridget. Bridget from Budget, that's cute."
She winked. "That's me."
I gave her my most dazzling smile and ran a hand through my blond hair—short on the sides, long on top, with cut-edge layers thanks to lots of product. If my looks could help me get out of Miami, I wasn't above using them. "Well, Bridget, I need to get to New York for an engagement party. My fiancée will have my, er—" I was going to say balls for breakfast, but no, "—guts for garters if I don't make it."
"Oh my." Bridget's eyes widened.
"So I'll take anything you've got." I put my credit card on the counter.
Bridget grimaced. "I'm afraid I don't have anything. We've been sold out for hours. I've been calling around to other agencies for our customers, but I've pretty much tapped out that well, too. I'm sorry."
My heart did a nosedive—straight down, tail spinning, like a plummeting bi-plane. "Please. There has to be something."
"Well…. There are one or two rental places I haven't tried yet. But they're way, way down market and not close to the airport."
"I'd appreciate if you'd check. I'll take anything!"
"All right. I'll try." She gave me a sympathetic smile and got on the phone.
I waited, fists clenched.
This was all my boss's fault. The news had been talking about Jack for a week now. It was supposed to make a direct hit on Southern Florida and then move up the eastern seaboard. I'd wanted to fly home days ago. But, no. Simon Schubert, founder of Schubert Supplies as well as my future father-in-law, was an old-school salesman who believed that if you walked out the door without a signed contract in hand, the deal would never happen. He insisted I stay until Mason, the biggest hospital conglomerate in Miami, had signed on the dotted line on a deal for nearly a hundred-k worth of medical supplies. The red tape had been endless, and I'd had to be a lot pushier than I was comfortable being. The Florida people wanted to postpone sign-offs until the hurricane was over. Hell, the contract review had finally been accomplished by Mason's lawyer while he was on a flight to Los Angeles. Because, evacuation.
But not me. Oh, no. I was still here.
Bridget put a hand over the phone's receiver. "I found a car, Sir, but it's with Rent-a-Heap in Miramar. A Ford Fiesta."
"I'll take it," I said immediately, nudging my credit card closer to her.
Rent-a-Heap. A Ford Fiesta! Oh how the mighty have fallen. I thought of my Porsche in New York with longing. But, at this point, I'd ride an e-scooter if it came with an umbrella.
"You've been a gem, Bridget, really," I said to the woman when she completed the call. "Great customer service. I'll leave a review."
"It's Christmas," Bridget said with a smile and a shrug. "Safe driving, sir. And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you!"
The words felt strange as I said them. Christmas. It was, in fact, that time of year, as the many bedecked and bedazzled decorations at the airport, and at Mason HQ, where I'd spent the past two weeks, assured me. But I'd been so wrapped up in work, in the stress of trying to close the deal, I'd had no head space for the holidays. And with all the stuff Allison had planned, it wasn't going to be any more relaxing once I got to New York either.
The only taxi I could find was about to knock off for the day. I had to give the wizened taxi driver a hundred-dollars in cash to take me to Miramar, on top of the fare.
"You leaving town?" he asked me as he pulled out of the airport.
"As fast as possible."
"Where you goin'?"
"New York."
He shook his head. "A word of advice? Don't try to take 95 north from here. It's a parking lot. Our dispatcher told us to avoid it."
My heart did another nosedive. This time the plane's tail was smoking. I hadn't thought of that. Yet another reason not to wait until the last damn second to evacuate.
"This is a nightmare." I covered my face with my hands.
"What you want to do," the driver went on calmly, "is cut over to 27 from Miramar and then take 441 up nearly to Orlando. You can cut back over to 95 from there and avoid the worst of the bottleneck out of Miami. Hopefully. Anyway, it can't be any worse."
"Oh yeah?" I took out my phone and brought up a map. 27 was west of Miramar, so a bit out of my way since I was headed north. But he was right. It was probably faster than the I-95 bottleneck.
"I'll do that. Thanks for the tip."
"De nada. Hope you make it out of the area okay, man. This hurricane—it's supposed to be a walloping SOB."
I sighed and rubbed my temple. No shit. Every cell in my body was urging me to get away. Though how much that had to do with the storm, and how much with what I knew would be Allison's wrath—far scarier than Jack's—was debatable. At least I had a plan now. I gave in to the inevitable and called her on my cell.
"What do you mean, you won't be home tonight?" Allison gasped. "Tomorrow morning is brunch at the club. You need to be there!"
I stared out at the pouring rain. The wet swip-swipe of the windshield wiper blades was audible over the wind. "Babe, every flight out of Miami is canceled. I managed to get a car, but it's a twenty-hour drive. I should be home by tomorrow night."
"But you'll miss the brunch! Can't you get a flight out of a different airport? What about a red eye?"
I grit my teeth. "Orlando's shut down too. And any flights from Florida that are still leaving are likely to be full given the evacuation notice. I'm driving home."
"But the club's putting on a special menu! And we were going to tease the engagement ahead of the party. You know this."
The party on Christmas Eve, at her parents’ mansion, was the gala where our engagement would officially be announced. Somehow, that one event had accumulated other mini-events around it like children huddled around Mother Goose. Or maybe like the tormented spirits when the Ghost of Christmas Future opens its cloak. These festivities extended through the entire Christmas and New Year's season.
"Allison, I'm doing the best I can. There's a hurricane. I'll be there tomorrow night, in plenty of time for the party on Christmas Eve. I'm sorry to miss the brunch. All right?"
"As if you leave me any choice," she grumbled. "Just don't be any later. Do not fuck this up, Joe. I've spent a lot of time planning this. You know how important it is to me."
"Swear. Love you. Gotta go. I'll text you when I've made some progress." I punched the END button on my phone before she could argue.
My gut ached and I popped a few of the antacid tablets I always carried in my pocket. I was too young for this shit, but my stomach had been acting up for the past few months. Probably the stress of the job. Simon was the type of boss who was never satisfied for more than five minutes, and I'd been traveling constantly. Plus the conversation with Allison left me feeling sour, upset, and weirdly off-kilter, like things were spiraling out of control. And if there was one thing I hated, it was losing control. I reminded myself that engagements, weddings, all of that jazz, were a huge deal to most women. Bridezillas really were a thing. Of course, Allison had big plans, and of course, she wanted me there. Once we were married, everything would calm down.
My phone buzzed. I plucked it back out of the breast pocket of my suit jacket assuming it would be Allison, maybe with an apology, maybe with, I dunno, some concern for my actual safety and wellbeing. But the screen said BORIS EVANS. He was the CEO of Mason. Oh God. Don't let there be a problem with the contract.
"Hi, Mr. Evans! What can I do for you?" I answered with my upbeat salesman voice.
"Joe? Did I catch you before you left town?"
"You did, sir. Though I'm doing my best."
"Flight grounded?"
"Unfortunately, yes. But I'm on my way to pick up a rental car. So…"
"Oh, good! When I saw on the news about all flights being canceled, I hoped you might be driving."
"That's the plan. I think I got the last rental car in Miami." I chuckled in a self-effacing way.
"Then you're just the man I need." An alarm bell dinged in my head, but it didn't have time to build steam before he came right out with it. "I need a favor, Joe. It's a big one, but I wouldn't ask if it weren't important."
"Uh… okay. If there's anything I can… sure."
"There's a young man who works at a home where my wife volunteers. He just found out his mother has cancer and this is probably her last Christmas. She's in Manhattan, and he needs to get there. As you know, he's not gonna get a flight."
Oh. Oh shit. "Uh-huh."
"I thought, if you were driving, maybe he could go with you. It would mean a lot to me, Joe. He's a stand-up young man and, well, obviously this is urgent."
I saw my plans for a speedy getaway melting—much like the dime-sized hail that was currently hitting the taxi's windshield was destined to do. Fuck a duck.
There was no way I could say no to Boris. Not after I'd twisted his arm to get this deal closed. And he'd remain an important client. This deal was only the first of many. I hoped.
"Of course," I said with a hiccup of hesitation. "Where, um—"
"Perfect! Thank you so much, Joe. His name is Remy Guidry. I'll text you the address of where to pick him up. It's in Homestead."
After Boris hung up, I banged my head on the window. Homestead was south of Miami, and the car rental place was north. So it would be at least a two-hour trip out of my way to go to pick up this complete stranger. And then I'd be stuck in the car with the guy all the way up the continental US. In a freaking hurricane.
"It's the happiest time of the year!" the radio opined.
I caught the cab driver eying me in the rearview mirror. "You got a passenger, huh?"
"Yeah. Lucky me."
"Look at it this way, man. At least you'll have someone to share the driving with."
That was true. But with the way my luck was going, the guy wouldn't even be able to drive.
Once Upon a Mistletoe Kiss by Sammi Cee
Chapter One
ADRIAN
Dammit! “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I peered through the crack in my blinds at the couple of trucks pulled up next door and the dozen or so men milling in the front yard, drinking coffee, eating doughnuts, and making entirely too much noise with their chatter and laughter.
I’d gotten lucky when the people next door put their house on the market and moved out immediately thereafter, but they hadn’t had a lot of foot traffic or received any offers. It wasn’t surprising. With the woods on the outskirts of the rest of the neighborhood, our two houses were a little removed from the cookie-cutter feel of the rest of the homes as trees surrounded our backyards and butted up against the right side of my house. It might freak some people out, but I loved the peace and quiet.
New neighbors meant noise and, heaven forbid, people who might want to talk to me. My cell phone vibrating on my desk drew my attention, and I let the blinds close as I went to answer the phone. “What?” I barked.
Josh, my best friend, snorted. “Hello to you, too.”
“Sorry. I’m annoyed. Someone’s moving in next door.”
“That’s great, Adrian,” he said. “Maybe they’ll be cool.”
I rolled my eyes. He knew I didn’t care about cool. Hell, he knew I didn’t particularly care for people. Unlike him. Josh was personable, sociable, and the life of the party. He’d never met a stranger. Why he was still friends with me was beyond my comprehension.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said.
“How did you—never mind. Did you need something?”
He sighed loudly. “Can’t I want to call and check in on my best friend?” I didn’t dignify that with a response, and he chuckled softly. “Okay, okay. Halloween’s over, so it’s time to start thinking about the holidays. What are the chances I can get you to fly out here for Thanksgiving or Christmas?”
He’d gone off to college on the west coast and never come back. With him, went my minimal socializing. “About the same as last year,” I said.
“Adrian, it’s not good for you to stay locked up in the house all the time. Come on. There’s nothing keeping you there, so come see me and Missy. We’ll eat good food, go for walks on the beach, and if you come for Christmas, we can go to look at lights. It’ll be fun.”
“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” I grumbled. He hadn’t listed one thing I enjoyed. I ate out of necessity, I considered any type of walking physical activity, aka as exercise—which ew—and Christmas lights? Really? I didn’t celebrate the holidays. At all.
He snickered. “It’s because I know you that I’m calling.”
Grunting, I made my way back to the window and peered through the blinds. A red SUV pulled up to the curb in front of my house. “Oh no,” I said softly.
“What’s wrong?” Josh asked.
I watched in horror as a petite blonde woman emerged from the other side of the vehicle holding the hand of a little blonde girl. She opened the back passenger door, and a little boy jumped out. One of the men who’d been carrying boxes separated from the rest of the pack and strode briskly toward the trio with open arms. The kids took off running in his direction as he dropped to one knee and embraced them.
“It’s a family,” I choked out.
Josh barked out a laugh. “Oh no,” he mocked. “With kids and pets and everything?”
“You shut your mouth.” I hadn’t seen any animals, but weren’t children bad enough? They squealed and made noise and threw their stuff all around. “What am I going to do?”
“You could move back into the apartment complex.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. “Why would you suggest such a horrible thing? That would be even worse.” The only thing I’d hated more than living with my mother, or in an apartment complex, was living in the dorms in college. I’d worked hard to earn enough money and get a good enough IT job to rent this house so I’d be left alone.
“Exactly. You managed to find the most remote rental while still being in town. One little family must be better for you than a variety of people, so count your blessings. Not that I think it’s healthy,” he ended on a mumble.
“What the…” I said as I watched the lady give the man a quick hug, then hug the children and get back into the SUV.
“What? What’s happening?”
“She’s not staying,” I said as I watched the man pick up the little boy, grab the girl’s hand, and walk back toward the house. He moved with quick, excited steps. He was at least six foot two, so his long legs ate up the distance back to his own front door quickly, and they disappeared out of sight.
“Maybe they’re not her kids.” That didn’t seem right. The way the kids clung to her for a moment as they said goodbye made me think she was their mom. Not that my own mother had ever been very maternal, but they’d had that dynamic that I’d seen between Josh and his mom. “Or maybe she’s going back wherever they moved from for more stuff.”
Dropping the blinds back into place, I headed for my desk and sat down. “Who knows? As long as they don’t bother me, I don’t need to know the details.” Even if I was a little curious.
The man had been seriously hot, with his brown hair hitting the hem of his shirt in the back and his muscular frame. The lady hadn’t been hard on the eyes either. At least they’d looked like they got along so there shouldn’t be any screaming mama drama out front if they were the children’s parents.
“So what’s on the agenda for you today? You’re not working weekends anymore, right?”
“No, no help desk bullshit for the weekend.” Thankfully. Working for a help desk meant having to interact with customers throughout the week, and I was exhausted by Fridays. I didn’t enjoy peopling in any fashion, but remotely was a tad easier. “I’m going to get some studying in.”
“Man, I’m so proud of you. Getting your cybersecurity certification is a good plan. The growth trajectory is awesome.”
Feeling the buzz I always got when I thought about my new career plan, I distracted myself and Josh from talking about the holidays or the new neighbors as I told him what I’d learned in my online classes since the last time we spoke. He didn’t really give a crap about cyber security, but he was a good friend, and so he listened until I ran out of words, and we hung up. I promised to call him again soon if I changed my mind about visiting him for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but we both knew I wouldn’t.
I learned long ago that life was easiest when I didn’t allow myself to have expectations revolving around the holidays. I’d never had an idyllic movie-type family in my life. Josh and his parents had always encouraged me to join them, but I had a feeling it would depress me more to see people living out something so foreign to me like it was normal. Yeah, better to just be alone.
Slay Ride by Davidson King
MASON
“The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” ~ Albert Einstein
CHAPTER ONE
“You’re coming out tonight. Please say you are,” JJ, my best friend in all the world, pouted as he asked. Was I so predictable that he knew I wanted to say no before he finished his sentence?
“I’m closing tonight.” I probably could convince my manager at Books and Bistro to let me go early. She’d be happy to know I had a social life, but I was not a people person, and being around strangers was a special kind of torture. They were always a disappointment, super judgmental, and most of them simply wanted something from you. JJ was the exception.
After my parents died in a house fire when I was ten, JJ’s parents took me in. I had no other family, so his became mine. JJ knew me better than anyone.
“Okay, so you’ll be a little late. It’s a Christmas party at Scheherazade, invitation only, and I snagged us some. Please, Mason?”
With a heavy sigh, I nodded. “Okay, I can meet you in front of the club at eleven.”
JJ hugged me so tightly, I swore my bones cracked. I wasn’t a big guy. At five foot four, I weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. I loved food but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bulk up, so I stopped working on it. Add in my dull brown eyes, and I really wasn’t anything to write home about. I had good hair, though—a perfect auburn color.
I loved my job at Books and Bistro and was on the fast track to becoming a manager. I just knew it. What more did a person need besides books, food, coffee, and comfy couches to read on? Nothing.
“Okay, love you, gotta run.” JJ rushed out of my apartment, likely late for his job. He had gotten a position at some law firm and was loving it. When he’d gone off to college, I’d decided not to. I’d been working at Books and Bistro ever since I graduated high school.
“See you later,” I shouted to the now-empty space.
My place was perfect for me, and honestly, I didn’t actually have to work. My parents had left me a life insurance policy, and my grandparents had set up a trust fund for me as well. I gave JJ’s parents the entire insurance settlement after my folks died, even though they said they didn’t want it. It was the least I could do.
I’d bought an apartment outright. It overlooked the river on one end and the city on the other. I had three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a comfy living room, so in truth, it was all I needed.
Yeah, I hated people, but I hated being lonely just as much…I was a conundrum, no question about it. Books and Bistro was like a second home for me—it filled my loneliness tank and kept my head above water.
My life was pretty good, and I couldn’t complain too much about it.
As soon as JJ and I entered Scheherazade, I deflated. I had never set foot inside the exclusive place, but what had kept my curiosity piqued was the expectation that the interior based its name on its origin. It did not. They clearly only liked the name Scheherazade and not the story behind the character.
“I know that look,” JJ shouted over the stupidly loud music.
“What look?”
He rolled his eyes. “You thought this club would be like the book One Thousand and One Nights, didn’t you?”
He did know me so well. “It’s just that I’d hoped maybe there’d be some Persian design, at least. But this place is no different than Club Rain or that other one that was a carbon copy of every other place you’ve dragged me to.”
“You’re being a bah humbug!” JJ playfully shoved my shoulder.
“There aren’t even any Christmas lights up. How is this a Christmas party?” He waved me over to follow him to the bar. The bartender wore a Santa hat, and JJ gave me a pointed look. “See?”
“Wow, you sure showed me,” I deadpanned.
JJ ignored me and ordered us each a holiday drink, and I scanned the entire area. There were so many bodies swaying, rubbing. I mean, was it dancing or sex?
“Drink.” He shoved a glass in my face. It was red, and the straw was designed to look like a candy cane.
I sipped the fruity and slightly minty drink and continued people-watching.
“Let’s dance.” JJ grabbed my arm, but I quickly pulled away.
“Absolutely not. I can barely walk without falling on my face. Why would you want me to go out there and murder people with my flailing limbs?”
“Dra. Mat. Ic!” He chugged his drink and placed the empty glass on the bar. “I’m dancing. Watch me and make sure no creeper tries to manhandle me.”
“You’d like it,” I joked.
I watched as the crowd pulled JJ in until he was part of the gyrating machine that embodied the entire club.
I could people-watch all day. No, I wasn’t a fan of mankind, but I loved coming up with stories in my head about them. I saw a woman between two men. Desperate to find her one true love, she willingly subjected herself to depravity to find him.
A man kissed another man near the DJ booth. They were aggressive in their touching, and I could picture them in a few hours, tumbling onto a bed, wrapped in each other and silk sheets. Making promises they’d surely end up breaking just so they could reach their climax.
“Jack and coke,” a deep, smooth voice beside me said, pulling me away from my internal storytelling.
Well. Damn. He was tall and built without being mountainous. He had a sweep going on in the front of his perfectly styled brown hair. Did I mention he was wearing all leather?
I was staring, and maybe sniffing, because holy hell, he smelled good.
His eyes met mine, and while lust pooled in my gut, fear began to settle in too. His eyes were dark, fathomless. As if they’d never seen light and vowed never to let it in. The furrow in his brow and his permafrown were quite off-putting. My brain was yelling at me to look away, but his eyes were like tractor beams, hypnotizing me with their intensity.
“What are you drinking?”
He was talking to me. Speak words, Mason.
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
He cocked his head. “You’re drinking something, and you have no idea what it is?”
I shrugged. “My friend bought it. I think it’s some holiday special.”
He turned to the bartender when his drink was handed to him. “Another holiday whatever that is, for this guy too.”
He bought me a drink? “Thanks. I’m Mason.” Yay for words.
“Gabe.” He sat on the stool, drink in hand, and scanned the room. While I never knew what I was looking for, Gabe seemed to be searching for something or someone in particular.
“Your Fruity Festivus,” the bartender said, and Gabe raised his brows.
“Thanks for humiliating me.” I narrowed my eyes at the giver of alcohol and took my drink. The bartender didn’t give a shit about embarrassing me.
“Is it good?” Gabe asked.
“Want to try it?” I held it under his nose, and he sniffed.
“Nah, I’m fine.”
Gabe returned to his searching, and I returned to my internal storytelling.
“Motherfucker.” The anger and disdain in Gabe’s tone had me leaning away from him. He jumped off the stool and turned to me. “I gotta talk to someone. I was thinking we’d maybe fuck later?”
Seriously? “Did you just ask me for a fuck? With no finesse at all?”
He peered over his shoulder at me. “No time to waste, am I right? So, yeah, I’ll be back in like five minutes.”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He was working his way through the dance floor toward some guy. As soon as he was on him, I noticed four others joined Gabe. Who the hell was this man?
The Snuggle is Real by DJ Jamison
CHAPTER 1
Mason
Holy fuck.
The folks who hired me weren’t kidding when they said Christmas Falls went all out.
I gazed up at the towering Christmas tree strangled in strings of multi-colored bulbs awaiting the official flick of the switch at the treelighting ceremony tonight.
Even more impressive, though, was the number of people packed into this little park. When I’d interviewed for my position as director of the Holiday Hope Foundation, I’d laughed off warnings about how wild the season got.
“I’m from the Ozarks,” I’d said. “I know all about tourism.”
Truth be told, though, I’d lived in a smaller lake town, and even at the height of the summer season, it couldn’t compare to the absolute gaudy flair that was Christmas Falls.
All the streets had Christmas-themed names. So did the businesses. Jolly Java. Dancing Sugar Plums. Jingle Bites. The Snowflake Shack. The list went on and on. Even the dang airport was named Reindeer Runway.
And the decorations…well, they put the little roofline twinkly lights I used to install back home to shame. Large inflatables. Rooftop Santas. Flashing lights and animatronics.
These people went all out. And it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet!
I was awed by it. A little horrified. But a lot impressed.
“Mason!” Griffin Calloway called, waving me over.
I tore my gaze from the holiday spectacle, adjusted the box under my arm, and jogged across the park. Griff was the events coordinator for the massive festival the town thrived on. When he called, you dashed o’er the fucking fields to get to him.
As the new guy in town, I was still working to forge the connections I needed to expand my organization. Holiday Hope Foundation had grown out of a small grassroots effort that included a coat drive, an angel tree, and few odds and ends programs.
My job was to develop it into one cohesive mission. But that also meant raising awareness about some of the changes in the works.
Hence why I was here, wagging my tail for Griff. Well, that and he was a fine-looking man. Taken, sadly, by another fine-looking man. Both of them were solid tens. Me? I was a six. Seven on a spectacular hair day.
I was too damn short and thin to turn many heads. Unless they were concerned the wind was about to blow me away. Always a valid concern in Illinois in the winter.
“Hey, Griff. How’s it going?”
“Well, no bulbs have burned out yet this year, knock on wood.”
He rapped on the table…which was made of plastic. I wasn’t sure if that would bring good or bad luck, but I was glad I wasn’t in Griff’s shoes.
I placed my box of brochures and donation forms onto the table. “I take it this is where I set up?”
“Yeah. You’ll have to share the table with Marlene, our volunteer coordinator. Hope that works for you.”
“Sure, yeah.”
“Good, because you’re not getting anything else.” He winked playfully.
When I first arrived in town, Griff’s reputation preceded him. He was a strict taskmaster who tolerated no nonsense in his festival planning. I’d been nervous to ask him if the foundation could take a more active part in the festival, given that everyone said Griff was inflexible.
But either he’d mellowed a lot in the last year or people had vastly exaggerated. He’d been happy to fit me in.
“There’s the deputy mayor,” Griff said. “I’ve got to run!”
“O”—Griff was already gone—“kay.”
The deputy mayor, Taylor Hall, stood by the stage with—whoa, was that the star of Merry Me, Santa?
My eyeballs nearly fell out of my head as I stared at Heath Kelly, former soap actor, Hallmark heartthrob, and most exciting of all, the male lead in their last three queer-themed holiday movies.
Eeek!
“Are you okay, dear?”
I jolted out of an embarrassing fantasy that had recast me as Heath’s costar in a swoony kiss scene. “Uh, I was just…”
“Drooling over the movie star?” Marlene guessed with a chuckle. “I noticed.”
My face heated, and I turned my attention to unloading my box of supplies. I set up little plastic stands to better display copies of the brochures, donation forms, and applications for help.
Beside me, Marlene got busy with her own volunteer signup.
“I would think you’d already have all your volunteers by now,” I said.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” she said mildly. “But we always have a few last-minute scheduling conflicts. You can never have too many volunteers.”
I smiled. “That sounds about right.”
Soon, Marlene was inundated by friendly townspeople.
“Marlene! So good to see you. The tree looks gorgeous this year. I can’t wait to see it all lit up!”
“Hi, Marlene! Find me later. I’ve got some juicy gossip!”
“Marlene, don’t you just love how happy Griff looks this year? Gosh, he and Logan are adorable!”
I glanced across the park, and sure enough, Logan had wrapped his arms around Griff from behind and was whispering in his ear. Griff freaking glowed enough to compete with that tree once the lights came on.
I sighed wistfully. I was focusing on my career right now. I didn’t need a man. But I wouldn’t mind snuggling in against a broad chest now and again.
Marlene’s visitors took my brochures too, and soon half of them were gone. “Maybe they should have hired you to lead the nonprofit,” I joked. Marlene laughed. “Oh, honey, I’ve got quite enough on my plate already.”
A hush came over the audience, and the mayor stepped up to the microphone to introduce Heath Kelly.
“I’m so glad to finally be here with you all in Christmas Falls,” Heath said in his smoky smooth voice. “This is such a lovely way to start the season.”
There was cheering and applause.
“I know I’m pretty,” he joked, “but how about we light this tree and give you something really beautiful to see?”
“It’s unlikely to compare, but sure,” I muttered.
There was a deep, rusty chuckle near me. I whipped my head to the side, eyes widening at the mountain of a man who stood there.
“You’re a fan, huh?”
A fan of your broad chest? Yes, sir.
“Um.”
He pulled one hand out of the pocket of his thick flannel and waved it toward the stage. “The movie guy.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Yeah, he’s talented.”
The guy smirked. “Not sure his talent is what you really appreciate.”
Marlene piped up. “Don’t you give Mason a hard time. He’s a sweetheart.”
He held up his hands. “No hard time given. I don’t see the appeal myself, but I’m open-minded.” His gaze flicked to my brochures and away. “I’m just here to help with the cleanup after the event. Gotta get work where I can during the winter months.”
“Oh, do you need an application?” I asked, hopeful.
I wouldn’t mind an excuse to see this guy again. Even if he was obviously straight and uninterested.
“Nah,” he said. “I live alone. Not much need to squander your funds on me when you could help out a family.”
“Well, there’s no family requirement. If you need help, then you do.”
His dark eyes met mine. “I don’t need any help. I get by just fine.”
The tree blazed to life, capturing my attention as red, blue, and green lights flickered over the park and the crowd cheered.
When I glanced back, he was already walking away.
“Don’t mind Ford,” Marlene said. “He’s a proud man. Wants to take care of himself.”
“We all need a little help sometime,” I murmured.
“I couldn’t agree more.” A sweet guy I recognized from the new chocolate shop, Jingle Bites, brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes. “Can you tell me about how this foundation of yours works? I can help spread the word.”
“Hey, Milo. Thanks for stopping by.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
I launched into an explanation of our services—the traditional winter coats and hats, holiday meals, toy drives, and gifting programs, as well as my plan to incorporate more business sponsorships so we could serve the community with more flexibility.
“Perfect.” Milo scooped up a couple of brochures and donation forms. “I’ll just take these in case I run across anyone in need.”
Traffic to my table had slowed down once the Christmas tree lights came up. The hot cocoa and cookie stations were getting all the action now.
But my friend Elias, who worked at the animal shelter, came over.
“Hey, Mason. I didn’t know you were working a table tonight.”
I smiled. “Yep. I was just telling Milo about our programs.”
Elias cast Milo a distracted look. “Right, sorry for interrupting. Love those designer truffles you do.”
I agreed. “That Irish Coffee one is freaking life-changing!”
Milo lit up. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.” He cast a worried glance in Elias’s direction. “But are you okay? You look a little frazzled.”
Elias did look stressed.
“It’s been a rough few days,” Elias admitted. “We had a pipe burst at the shelter, and now we need repairs. There’s so many insurance headaches. And I’ve been so busy trying to get the pets fostered and out of there that I haven’t had the chance to find a contractor.”
He handed me a flier that advertised pop-up pet adoption events.
“Maybe I can help,” I said.
“You want to foster a dog? I thought you’d never ask.”
I laughed. “Uh, well, I was going to offer to take some of your fliers. If anyone else comes by, I’ll hand them out too.”
“I can take some too,” Milo offered.
“Thanks, guys. You’re the best.” He handed Milo a couple of fliers, then set a stack on my table. “But I’ll be in touch about that dog. You’ve got that big old house, and you’re all alone. You need a new friend for the holidays.”
“I thought you discouraged pets as holiday gifts.”
“Oh, I do,” Elias said. “This dog won’t be a gift. He or she will be your Christmas Falls family.”
The house had felt empty, especially as the holiday season approached and I knew my own family would remain out of reach.
“Fine,” I said, “but only to foster over the holidays, okay? Not permanently.”
He chuckled. “Oh, that’s how it starts. Soon, you’ll be begging to keep your little fur baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that. But hey, maybe you can get Milo to adopt one.”
Elias turned to ask Milo, but he’d wandered off sometime while we were talking.
“Damn, he got away,” Elias muttered.
I laughed. “Find me after the event wraps up and we’ll grab a beer. You need to relax.”
“It’s good advice,” Marlene said. “You boys are too wound up. Things always work out in Christmas Falls. It’s a magical season.”
We exchanged a dubious look. The season always seemed magical to people, but they didn’t see what went on behind the scenes at agencies like ours.
We didn’t just magic up donations and services. It took dedication and hard work.
That’s why the foundation had hired me to be their first full-time director. It’s why they wanted to strengthen their mission and fundraising.
People needed hope, and we had to find a way to deliver it.
I thought of Ford, who’d so quickly dismissed himself as worthy of aid. I thought of the stack of applications back in my office, some of which we might not be able to fulfill.
If only we could help everyone. That would be a real miracle.
Yes Guy by Barbara Elsborg
Chapter One
Heath had no inkling his life was about to go downhill fast when he walked into the pub. He was meeting his boyfriend, Diego, for a meal and although Heath would have rather not come to this particular pub because it was a pie and mash place, and he liked neither pies nor mash, he’d swallowed his objection and agreed because he really didn’t need to be moaned at for saying no yet again.
He glanced around inside, looking for Diego, blinking at the ferocious amount of tinsel that appeared to be draped over anything that wasn’t moving. It was enough to set his teeth on edge. The memory of a time he’d had it stuffed into his mouth as a child still caused nightmares. As he looked around the room, his gaze locked in on two men staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. It might have been an aaahh, that’s so cute moment. But one of the men was Heath’s boyfriend and the other was Heath’s boss. So not an aaahh moment at all, but a heart-crushing, stomach-churning, fucking-annoying one.
I’m not mistaken, am I? Heath really wished he was, but to think that would be delusional. Those shared smiles, the way they were leaning into each other… Oh, and the gentle caress of Diego’s face. Not a mistake.
Neither man had yet spotted him, which gave Heath the opportunity to move to a position where he couldn’t be seen. He needed a second or two to take a breath and consider his response. Tears were pointless, though he could feel them filling his eyes. Anger, distress, shock…all battled to be top dog. Though one thing was clear: the reason Diego had asked to meet him here was to dump him in a location where Heath wouldn’t make a fuss, wouldn’t stamp his foot, have a hissy fit and demand to know why. Except Heath wouldn’t have done any of those things. Diego didn’t know him at all.
Oh God, he really doesn’t.
Oh God. He really does. Damn it.
But Heath was determined not to react like a spoiled brat. He’d show him! Or rather he wouldn’t show him because Heath’s first inclination was to slink out of the pub without being seen, even though all he’d be doing was delaying the inevitable. The end of their relationship had been revealed in the touching tableau he’d just witnessed and why didn’t matter.
Did it?
No, because he knew why.
Probably.
They were over.
As was his job.
Because… He just couldn’t face a smug Benny every day.
If Heath was being honest with himself, he was more pissed off about the job than he was about Diego. Didn’t that tell him something? Worries about a hissy fit faded. I’m not broken-hearted. That was a good thing. Except he’d have to move out of Diego’s flat and that was annoying. More than annoying. Anger was coming to a bubbling simmer in his chest, drowning shock and distress.
Did he even need to walk over there and be told he was no longer wanted? Whatever was said was only going to bring an even larger lump to his throat because rejection hurt, no matter what. He could just go home—okay, so no longer home—pack up his stuff and find a cheap hotel for the night.
Was there any chance of him pretending to dump Diego? Tempting, but no one would believe that. Though the only one he needed to believe that was Diego himself. So maybe…
“Heath!” Diego moved in front of him.
Shit! I’m not even any good at hiding. It reminded him of hide and seek when he was a child. When he wasn’t the one who’d been forced to be the seeker, he was always found first by the others. It was as if they ganged up on him. Well, they had.
“Come and sit down. We need to talk.”
No, Heath wasn’t going to do that. Well, not sit down anyway. He looked into Diego’s face and took some comfort in the fact that Diego wouldn’t look directly at him. Coward.
“We’ve been over for a long while,” Diego said. “You must have seen this coming.”
Er, no. Not really.
“You’re too negative. You never want to do anything. You’re no fun anymore.”
Which implied he had been fun once upon a time. Rather pathetically, Heath took some comfort in that. And what about Heath’s suggestion last week that they went ice-skating at Somerset House? Didn’t that count as fun? He opened his mouth to point that out, then shut it again. Diego’s mind was made up. What was said now didn’t really matter.
“Say something!”
What was the point? What did Diego want him to say? As if in response, All I Want for Christmas is You blared through the pub’s speakers.
“You never want to go anywhere. You always say no to everything I suggest.”
I’m here for pie and mash, aren’t I?Whether he’d have eaten anything was another matter. Heath curled his toes in his shoes. He’d just have to keep waiting under the mistletoe, Mariah Carey! Diego wasn’t the one but someone else would be. See! He could be positive.
“Life was dull,” Diego blurted. “You’re boring. Your clothes are boring. Even your hairstyle is boring.”
Oh God. Heath had tuned back in for that. He felt as if he was being stabbed. How many strikes before he fell? He’d tried! He wasn’t even any good at ice-skating but if he fell down, he got up. He loved the forty-foot Christmas tree and the historic surroundings of Somerset House and the lights and it was romantic and…
“You make no bloody effort,” Diego said. “You’re really hard to live with.”
He couldn’t even hear Mariah singing anymore. Heath did all the cleaning and the shopping, much of the cooking. He thought he was easy going. Clearly not.
“Anyway, I’ve had enough. We’re done.” Diego glanced back at Benny and shot him a smile.
Heath wondered how long the two had been together.
“Me and your boss have been seeing each other for three months.”
Did I fucking ask you to tell me? Do you think I needed reminding that Benny is my boss? Just because he’d thought how long in his head did not mean he wanted to know. Now he was all too aware of what had made Benny so fucking cheerful for the last three months and why Diego had spent so many evenings working late. Not toiling in his hair salon, clearly. Now Heath had the truth about those phone calls Diego felt obliged to leave the room to answer. Not his mum at all. Heath felt a fool for not having registered what was happening. Not that he’d have ever imagined his forty-something balding, but rich boss in a relationship with fashion-and-hair-obsessed, money-driven Diego.
“Say something,” Diego whispered.
What the hell did Diego want him to say? Have a nice life? He probably wanted Heath to ask him not to leave him. That wasn’t going to happen. I thought I loved you. I thought you loved me. I thought that you were mine. Heath wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’d managed not to stamp his foot or demand to know why. Pat yourself on the back.
“I’ll pack up my stuff.” He was pleased he’d managed to say that without his voice cracking.
He headed over to Benny, who stood as Heath approached. Heath almost enjoyed the wary look on Benny’s face. No, I’m not going to hit you.As if!
“I quit,” Heath said. “Under the circumstances, I won’t be working my notice. I have plenty of holiday time remaining so we’re done.”
Benny’s eyes widened. “Come on, Heath. There’s no need to be hasty. You do a great job and I don’t want to lose you.”
You should have thought of that before you fucked my boyfriend, you…arsehole. He probably should have said that, not just thought it.
“Please reconsider, Heath.” Benny glanced at Diego. “We can all be sensible about this.”
Diego glared at his new love and Heath felt a brief moment of satisfaction that maybe Benny wasn’t quite as much into Diego as Diego might like. Or am I falling into the well of wishful thinking?
Heath turned and walked out. He was feeling quite proud of himself until he realised tears were trickling down his cheeks. He really hoped that hadn’t started until he had his back to them.
It was most unlike him not to take in the Christmas decorations he passed on his way back to the flat. He loved Christmas but his heart was still struggling. All his plans for the holidays had disintegrated. He was going to be on his own and it hurt.
Packing his things didn’t take long, though he had to overfill his on-its-last-legs suitcase to make sure he took everything. His name wasn’t on any of the bills. He paid his share of costs to Diego by bank transfer, so he put a stop to that right away. He took just one item of Diego’s with him and forced it into the case with no small amount of pleasure. Diego would probably miss it more than he did Heath.
Back out on the street, Heath had second thoughts about a hotel. This close to Christmas, prices would be sky high. Maybe he could stay with a friend. Not that he had many who weren’t shared with Diego. But Stef, who was his friend, didn’t answer his call. Heath didn’t bother leaving a message. He needed somewhere to stay right now.
He tried his aunt. She might not have wanted him when he was a young boy, but it was different now he was in his twenties. Wasn’t it? She occasionally asked him for dinner which showed she cared…a bit. Though not enough to ever have something he liked to eat on the menu.
“Hello?” Her high-pitched, cultured voice grated like nails on a blackboard and a shudder went through Heath’s body.
“It’s Heath. I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve nowhere to stay tonight and I wondered if I could use one of your spare rooms.” He crossed his fingers.
“Why on earth do you have nowhere to stay?”
“Diego broke up with me.”
“But he’s so lovely! What did you do to upset him?”
Heath ignored the question. She’d met Diego once. ONCE! Of course, Diego had behaved impeccably and smothered her with flattering comments. What a beautiful dress. The colour is perfect for you. You have a great sense of style. I love your hair.What a charming house.
“Can’t you apologise?”
Heath clenched his teeth, then had to unclench them. “He’s with someone else. Can I come and stay? Please?”
She gave a long sigh that sounded as if all the troubles of the world had landed on her shoulders, rather than her distressed only nephew.
“It’s my bridge night tomorrow.”
So what? “I won’t be any trouble,” Heath whispered. The same thing he’d said when as an eight-year-old, he’d been taken to his aunt’s by social workers trying to persuade her to look after him. Epic fail. He still remembered the look of horror on her face at the thought of caring full time for her sister’s son.
“I suppose a few days will be acceptable,” she said.
“Thank you.” Though he was hoping for longer really, until he found a place of his own.
The more money he saved while he looked the better. He’d need more than a month’s deposit for any flat he wanted to rent. London prices were ridiculous.
Heath struggled on and off three buses to get across the city to Belgravia. The only plus about the journey was being able to see the Christmas lights in each of the districts he travelled through. Now he had a free bed for the night, he’d cheered up. He gazed at angels strung across the streets, penguins and reindeer on the lampposts, stencils in shop windows, the twinkling trees… He might currently be miserable but he felt relieved he could find pleasure in the decorations and admire all the work that went into them. Belgravia looked very classy with huge blue bows everywhere, pedestrianised streets lit up underneath a canopy of twinkling Christmas lights. Almost enough to revive his damaged heart.
At least Diego hadn’t dumped him on Christmas Eve. Heath had time to get over this and cheer the fuck up. An excellent plan.
A magnificent wreath hung on his aunt’s door. Not artificial. Only real foliage would do. Heath took a picture before he knocked. Not that he had anyone to share it with but if he found a place before Christmas, maybe he could make a wreath of his own. He’d wanted to make one for the place he and Diego had shared, but Diego had said no.
Heath knocked again.
Cooper, his aunt’s resident long-term butler-cum-chauffeur, who lived in the basement with his wife who was both cook and housekeeper, greeted Heath with a sneer on his face that made Heath feel about two inches tall, as usual. No Christmas cheer from him, so Heath smiled as broadly as he could.
“Hello, Cooper.”
“Good evening, sir. Your aunt has requested I show you directly to your room.”
Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred pounds or a cup of tea or a mince pie. Definitely don’t count on inheriting anything in his Aunt Lavinia’s will, despite the fact that she had no children and was Heath’s only blood-relative. Not that he wanted any of her money. He really didn’t. Just a little kindness would do. She tolerated him better now he was older, but the relationship between them wasn’t what he’d hoped for. Sit. Stand. Fetch. She really did treat him like a dog.
The Christmas tree brightened up the wood-panelled hall. A real one, smothered in expensive crystal ornaments he’d never been allowed to touch. Actually, he’d never been allowed within three feet of them. While he’d been in care, he’d been brought for visits at Christmas, given a present by his aunt—never one that was suitable for a child of his age, followed by tea in the kitchen—salmon paste sandwiches—what child eats those?—a bed for the night with the instruction not to wet it, which, of course, made him panic about doing exactly that, then sent away again to be forgotten until it was his birthday or the following Christmas, when the same thing was repeated.
“The tree looks lovely,” Heath said. No doubt the work of Cooper and his wife, directed by his aunt. “Very stylish.”
Cooper didn’t respond. Heath followed him up the stairs, making sure he didn’t bang the case on the wall or against Cooper’s ankles, tempted as he was. He was shown to the room he always stayed in. It hadn’t changed. It even smelt the same. Little about the house had changed since he was a child, apart from its value. Not that it mattered to him. It really didn’t. Oh God, stop saying that.
“You remember her ladyship’s rules.”
How old am I?And she wasn’t nobility. The rules hadn’t changed either, as far as he knew and if they had he didn’t want to know. “Yes.”
“Would you like to remind me, sir?”
Not really, since I’m not a nine-year-old, but…“No eating in the bedroom, no noise including laughing, no baths or showers after eight o’ clock, no snacking, no wetting the bed, no sliding down the banister…” He’d hoped that might raise a smile, but no. “No guests to be brought back to the house. Breakfast at seven. Dinner at seven if I’m invited to eat with my aunt, otherwise, I eat in the kitchen. No drunken behaviour.” No smiling. Don’t speak unless he was spoken to. Don’t breathe too much air. Don’t wear out the carpet. No wanking.
“I presume you’ve eaten, sir,” Cooper said.
Not a question. Heath hadn’t, but he had no appetite. “I’m fine, thank you.” He had a bar of chocolate in his case but he didn’t even want to eat that. I really am depressed.
Cooper inclined his head and left. Heath closed the door and sagged. If his aunt didn’t want to see him that night, he was better off staying in his room rather than risk bumping into her by wandering around the house like a miserable ghost. He hung up a few things in the wardrobe, showered and went to bed.
He hadn’t expected sleep to come easily and it didn’t. The rage that he’d barely managed to contain in the pub came bubbling to the surface. Dumped because Diego the Dickhead said Heath’s first response to anything was always no. Why was it wrong to be cautious? Who says yes without thinking about it? No one who was sensible. Certainly not Heath. Though he couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret that he’d said yes when Diego had first asked him out. The irony! The one time no would have been the right answer.
Had it all been no ever since?
Heath thought about it.
Unfortunately, those occasions when he’d said no filled his mind.
No, he did not want to go glamping because it was still camping, when all was said and done. No proper toilets. Spiders. Mud. What was wrong with wanting to be warm, dry and comfortable? He’d been shocked Diego had even suggested it because there wouldn’t have been any hairdryers.
No, Heath did not want to stay in and watch football. Even if it was Diego’s favourite team. Heath had even got that wrong. Not Man United but Man City. He sighed.
No, he did not want to go halves on a fifty-inch TV. Not to watch football or darts or some scary horror film. Maybe PornHub, but wasn’t the one they had big enough?
No, he did not want to be woken up for a shag when drunken Dickhead rolled in at two in the morning. Now he wondered if he’d come from Benny’s place and found himself grinding his teeth.
No, he did not want to go on holiday to Ibiza. Not to spend his time with Dickhead’s pals who always drank too much, threw up on the street and did stupid things like break a leg jumping onto a car. One trip with them was more than enough.
Was any of that being unreasonable?
No.
Yet Heath had to listen to no from Diego to ice-skating, a trip to the British Museum, a sleepover in the Science Museum and a pottery course.
Ah. We weren’t a good match. The thought eased his pain and he managed to sleep.
Heath behaved perfectly in his aunt’s house, probably why she let him stay longer than a couple of days. He followed all the rules—almost—but he wanked very carefully and quietly. Riding the banister was tempting but he resisted. Sadly, trying to find a flat without a regular income was impossible. He’d fail any credit check. Unfortunately, the job market was particularly slack this close to Christmas. He’d been interviewed twice on Zoom, sitting in his suit jacket on the floor in the bedroom, his back to a white wall because anywhere else in there was too chintzy for a background. But all to no avail. He wasn’t wanted. Tomorrow, he’d look outside London for work.
Going to an STD clinic had been stressful, but necessary. He was clear. Not that he and Diego had fucked without condoms, though Diego had been pressing him lately. Lucky escape there. At least Heath could now think about Diego without getting a lump in his throat.
Dinner with his aunt was painful. Heath didn’t expect a deluge of sympathy, but he had hoped for copious amounts of alcohol. Instead, each evening, he was offered a tiny dry sherry before dinner and a small glass of wine with the meal.
Heath could feel the guillotine readying to fall on his stay.
This lunchtime, she had that look in her eye.
“Have you found a job yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“A place to live?”
“No.” He’d already told her but he told her again. “Unless I have a job, I’ll fail a credit check. If I had a guarantor, I—”
“Excuses.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if she were swatting a fly.
Not an excuse, a reason. She’d already refused to act as his guarantor. It hurt.
“You should have thought of the consequences when you walked out of your employment. Lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself is not productive. Your stay has come to an end. I’m off to Peru and you have to move out.”
Peru? Heath thought she’d made it up just to get rid of him, but when her friend, Bethesda, came round after lunch to discuss their travel plans, Heath accepted she was telling the truth and was relieved he’d not made a joke about Paddington Bear. Not that she’d have got it.
Then he was the one who had to listen to no.
No, Heath couldn’t stay in her house while she was away.
No, not even until after Christmas.
No, no, no, no, no.
So he called Stef again and this time she answered.
“Hi, Heath! What’s up?”
“I need to couch surf for a while. Can you help?”
“Uh oh. No more Diego?”
“He decided he liked my boss better. So no job either.”
“Shit! What a bastard! Of course you can stay. Come over tonight. I’m back from work at six. We’ll have pizza and wine.”
Heath breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t correct Stef in her assumption that Benny had fired him.
After spending the afternoon searching online for any office work, anywhere, rather than the job he was qualified to do, and still not finding much that tempted, Heath decamped to Stef’s and melted into her hug. That, plus the pizza and two bottles of wine went a long way to making him feel more upbeat. There would be a job. He just had to keep looking.
Stef’s flatmate, Anne-Marie, sat on one side of him on the couch, Stef on the other, all three of them full of food and alcohol.
“You’re better off without him, you know that,” Stef said.
“Yes.”
“Though you could have done with keeping your job, at least until you got a flat,” Anne-Marie added.
Of course, Heath had blurted the truth when pushed. He wondered how she’d feel about working for a woman her boyfriend had left her for. But he said nothing. He slept on the couch in a warm flat and was grateful he wasn’t having to pay for a hotel.
When he found out Stef was going to her parents’ for Christmas, Heath let himself hope he could use her bed until she came back.
But no… Stef had promised her room to Anne-Marie’s sister so Heath was out of luck. Such was his life.
“Except…” Stef said and narrowed her eyes.
“Except what?” Heath asked.
“You have to promise to be good.”
“When am I ever not good?” He even had problems walking the wrong way down a one-way street. Keep off the grass was a rule he never broke. As for dropping litter…never. He almost shuddered at the thought.
“I’m just going to make a call,” Stef said. “Cross your fingers.”
Heath waited impatiently for her to come out of her bedroom, but he was reassured by the smile on her face when she emerged.
She dropped down onto the couch. “Fabian is away for two months in Costa Rica. Well, one month left now before he comes back.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Who else?” She glared.
“Sorry.”
“I’ve been going out with him for a year, Heath!”
“Sorry. Yes.”
“His flat is gorgeous. I have a key. And he said yes you can stay.”
Hope bubbled up like champagne, bubbles bursting in his throat.
Yes, Heath would keep it tidy.
Yes, he’d move the mail which would save Stef the bother of trekking over there.
Yes, he’d pay towards the bills.
Yes, he’d leave the place looking as if he’d never been there. Promise!
Easy yeses.
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.
Sammi Cee was raised in a family of readers. Summer vacations consisted of a good book while sitting lakeside from as far back as she could remember. After growing up and having her own children, her appreciation of how the written word could transport you on an adventure, bring you to tears, or give you hope, took on a whole new meaning.
These days Sammi is watching her children develop into fine young ladies while doing the things she enjoys most: drinking coffee, eating chocolate, and writing her own stories.
These days Sammi is watching her children develop into fine young ladies while doing the things she enjoys most: drinking coffee, eating chocolate, and writing her own stories.
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.
Barbara Elsborg lives in Kent in the south of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Volcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.
After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.
Her earlier books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, now she concentrates on the bad boys, and hopes her books are as much fun to read as they are to write.
Eli Easton
Sammi Cee
EMAIL: sammiceediverseauthor@gmail.com
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
DJ Jamison
Barbara Elsborg
Plane, Trains, and Hurricanes by Eli Easton
Once Upon a Mistletoe Kiss by Sammi Cee
The Snuggle is Real by DJ Jamison
Yes Guy by Barbara Elsborg
