A Christmas Cotillion by Ellie Thomas
Summary:England, 1820. Bachelor Jonathan Cavendish has become reclusive in the years following a failed romance with the love of his life. In the years following their split, he has thrown all his energy into restoring the small estate he inherited from a great uncle and has put aside any thoughts of romance.
Although he’d rather remain at home alone for the festive season, this year he’s accompanying his cousin Freddy to a Christmas country house party. Freddie seems to be constantly falling in love and, on this occasion, he is infatuated with a young lady called Belinda. Jonathan is asked by Freddy’s anxious mother to accompany him to the house party to keep an eye on the situation, in case the young lady turns out to be an unsuitable choice.
Despite this inauspicious beginning, Jonathan catches the eye of Nick, the handsome son of a local well-to-do farmer, who is a constant presence at the holiday entertainments. Nick is intrigued by Jonathan’s kindness and also by the sadness he hides from public view.
The initial attraction between the men seems to be mutual, but can Nick break through Jonathan’s defences and teach him to love again?
Original Review July 2024:
A Christmas Cotillion is a lovely little gem of holiday heart. I purchased this book last December but never got a chance to read it during the holiday season and I couldn't think of a better addition to my Xmas in July reads.
For a short holiday novella there really is quite a few paths told. At the heart of the story is Jonathan Cavendish, a bachelor who may not fit the bill of "youthful" in 1820 but is not "over the hill" or "about to be put out to pasture" by any means😉. His heart was dealt a blow in the past and has led him to be a bit reclusive in the years since but now restoring a small inherited estate has begun to re-energize his soul though not in the way of wanting to find romance again but enough to answer the call to act as a chaperone to his romantically inclined cousin.
Finding himself in the middle of certain social entertainments for the holiday, Jonathan deals with his cousin's romantic entanglements and befriends said cousin's apparent intended as well as catching the eye of a certain local farmer's son. There are so many things going on here during Jonathan's return to the holiday social scene that I don't want to spoil anything so I'll just say this: YUMMY!
Looking at the author's backlist I realize I haven't even begun to make a dent in said list but with each new discovery the need to devour more increases. Sorry to say that though my reading mojo is returning more and more the farther out from the pandemic we get it still isn't pre-Covid levels and said mojo-lacking years I've grown quite a backlog of readings that doesn't always leave room for new discoveries. I will get to Ellie Thomas' backlist and I look forward to it because what I've read(and Christmas Cotillion is a prime example of that) meshes entertainment with a healthy respect for history and that is always a win win in my heart and head.
Summary:
London at Christmas, the loneliest place of all.
The handsome older man in the suit is dining alone. He’s been stood up on Christmas Eve and waiter Alex wants to make him feel better.
What follows is an evening where two fragile souls meet and forge a deep understanding, taking them beyond the differences that separate them and into new love.
Themes: age gap, hurt/comfort, mental health.
Summary:
It Happened on Hanukkah
A sweet, opposites attract story
Jake
My new next-door neighbor is a problem I didn’t see coming. He’s way too beautiful, for starters—and way too young. And when his music comes through my wall late at night, it awakens feelings I’ve tried to keep buried for so long.
When his angry family confronts him about leaving their conservative Jewish community, all my protective instincts kick in. But I’m no longer a bodyguard, and I shouldn’t offer more than a dinner.
Asher
I want some experience in dating, but I have no clue how to go about it. I’m immediately attracted to Jake. Both his massive size and his amazing kindness draw me to him, but is his dinner invitation out of pity or interest?
Note: This is a short story for some holiday cheer
It was part of the Winter Wonderland tales
Summary:
Tinsel & Tentacles 2.0 #2
Baylen is a particular man who finds himself in need of a temporary personal assistant. In comes Milo.
After an address mixup, Baylen ends up at a bar with Milo. The two share a drink, share a night together, and then have to decide what to do from here. As much as they fit together, Baylen worries that being Milo’s boss complicates their relationship too much. To make matters more confusing, Milo is (eight appendages) more than he seems.
Everything changes when they find themselves under a mistletoe right before Christmas.
Tentacles and Mistletoe is part of the Tinsel and Tentacles 2.0 series which is a multi-author winter holiday M/M tentacle romance collaboration. Inside you’ll find tentacles, eggpreg, oviposition, a boss falling for his dominant PA, mpreg, an adorable baby, mistletoe kisses, and of course, a happily ever after! All books in the series are standalones but may be connected to some authors’ pre-existing worlds. Each book in the series brings festive fun related to a variety of winter holidays and explores the many delightful ways tentacles can be naughty and nice!
Collier's Creek Christmas #4
This Christmas they'll get the most precious gift of all...
Cam
The holiday season is my favorite time of the year, but this year feels different. Greg and I have built a life together and now we’re ready for the next step—a family of our own. But when our plans for a surrogate seem unattainable, I start to wonder if the universe is telling us it’s not meant to be. It breaks my heart to think we might not have the child of our dreams. Still, when the snow starts to fall and Christmas comes to Collier’s Creek, I can't shake the feeling that something wonderful is just around the corner.
Greg
I’ve always been the realist in our relationship. After everything we've been through—my accident, Cam’s mom’s illness, the way life seems to keep throwing curveballs—maybe it’s a sign that we’re not supposed to have kids. But seeing the look in Cam’s eyes, his unshakable belief that we’ll be fathers one way or another, gives me hope. I’m not going to give up. I’m going to keep believing that having a family is just a matter of time.
Silver Linings, a heartwarming holiday romance, filled with love and hope and the sweetest gift of all.
Celebrate the holidays with the men of Collier’s Creek, where magic fills the air and irresistible romances are the highlight of the festive season. Six low-angst romances, each filled with heartwarming moments and swoon-worthy romance.
A Christmas Cotillion by Ellie Thomas
Mr Hammond’s chance came when Jonathan was on the dance floor, already partnered for the next dance. Belinda, for once, was unaccompanied but still standing up, as though eager to join in. Mr Hammond was near her, but unfortunately looking in the other direction.
Jonathan glanced over in helpless frustration, not wanting to abandon his young dance partner in the middle of the floor just as the music was about to start. As he again looked from one to the other, he caught the eye of the handsome farmer’s son. He was serving refreshments amongst those who had taken part in the last set of dances. He followed his direction of Jonathan’s scrutiny clearly with a sharply raised eyebrow.
As if receiving intelligence, he nodded at Jonathan decisively, put down his tray on a side table and eased the few yards through the gaggle of couples approaching the dance floor and tapped Mr Hammond on the shoulder.
Luckily, just then the music started and Jonathan saw his expressive face indicating a social dilemma. He nodded towards Belinda and then pointed to the momentarily abandoned tray as if explaining why he could not partner the young lady for himself. When all had been made clear to Mr Hammond, he received a grateful smile from the young man, as though Mr Hammond was doing the favour. He then turned back to collect the tray and offered the contents to the thirsty crowd.
It was neatly done, with Mr Hammond now obliged by his very good manners to ask the young lady to dance. Mr Hammond braced himself and made his way to Belinda, face flushed with embarrassment as though expecting a rebuff. Instead, he received her hand and a warm smile. Jonathan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the couple reached the floor, unimpeded.
After a hectic country dance, Jonathan and his puffing partner retired from the fray. He was satisfied to see Mr Hammond and Belinda remain on the floor for the next set of dances, now conversing with apparent ease. As he looked at this with a feeling of pleasure, a glass of sparkling wine was placed in his hand with a murmured, “That was a good notion.”
He looked around in surprise to see the farmer’s son right next to him. Close up, his eyes were very blue indeed and his wide mouth was curved in that increasing familiar smile. Jonathan felt as tongue-tied as Mr Hammond had been previously in Belinda’s presence as he stiffly thanked the young man for his assistance. He seemed unfazed by Jonathan’s constraint.
“Just call me Cupid, or rather Nicholas, or even Nick, if you prefer,” he said with another dazzling grin, before turning gracefully to serve refreshments to the guests behind Jonathan.
A Christmas Less Lonely by Scarlet Blackwell
Chapter One
Alex
The restaurant was hot and heaving. Patron chatter almost drowned out the discreet classical music. Waiting staff bustled between tables carrying plates and silver trays of drinks. It was the sort of place where you were looked at like shit on the bottom of their shoe by the staff if they thought you couldn’t afford to dine there. Not by everyone though, and certainly not by me. It was also the sort of place where your tips exceeded your pay at the weekend.
Over by the wall with the stencilled Japanese cherry blossoms at possibly the worst table for two in the house, sat a dark-haired man in his forties wearing a black suit. I had already got three orders wrong since he’d arrived.
“Put your fucking eyes back in,” hissed Max as he dumped a foaming pint of lager on my tray and grabbed a bottle of Coke to go with the vodka and ice.
“I can’t,” I said, glancing across the room again. “He’s beautiful.” And he was. His short, immaculately groomed glossy black hair had streaks of silver around the temples. He was clean-shaven, his jaw strong and smooth. I hadn’t yet got close enough to see the colour of his eyes, and I needed to. Badly. And I bet he smelled amazing. I needed to lean over his shoulder, put my nose to his neck and inhale his scent so much it hurt.
“Someone doesn’t think so,” Max said. “He’s been stood up.”
I scowled. “They can’t be in their right mind.” Secretly, I was glad. I didn’t want to see this angel with someone. Not when he’d look best on my arm. Nonetheless, it bothered me. If someone of his calibre was sitting alone in one of the most expensive restaurants in town on Christmas Eve, what hope was there for the rest of us? I sighed. What a terrible situation. I felt so sorry for him. He wasn’t the first person I’d seen here waiting fruitlessly for someone who would never arrive and he wouldn’t be the last, but Jesus Christ, it was Christmas. The person who did this to him deserved no less than hanging, drawing and quartering. “Arsehole,” I spat.
“What did I do?” Max asked. He was a charming man of thirty-five who had taught me everything I needed to know when I first started here seven months ago.
“Not you. Whichever twat stood him up.”
“Oh yeah, right. Well, he’s been here twenty minutes now. They’re not coming, are they?”
I smoothed down my shirt and adjusted my bow tie. “Then I better give him my commiserations.”
“I hope that’s all you’re going to give him,” Max said.
I smiled and winked, but as I set off across the room, the distance suddenly became a gaping chasm imperilled with crocodiles and sharks. My heart beat hard, my hands clammy. I was too afraid to approach him. He was way out of my league. As I got there, I spun, about to turn and run for the hills, but it was too late. He had already looked up.
Our gazes met and that heart of mine almost jumped out of my chest. Mother of God, he was utterly divine. His almond shaped eyes were the darkest sapphire blue and fringed with lush, black lashes. His jaw and cheekbones were chiselled like someone had sculpted them from the finest marble. His mouth was made for sin, full-lipped and sensual. I stared at him. I started to wonder if maybe he was an actor or a rock star or a male model—we had our share of those—because there seemed to be no other explanation for his beauty. He couldn’t just be a…regular person, could he? He was staring at me too and I wondered how long I had been frozen there at his table. Maybe an hour, maybe two. Hell, maybe it was already Christmas Day and I should have been driving to Devon to spend the day with my parents.
He wore a black shirt with his black suit, and a silver tie, the whole ensemble immaculate. His shoulders and chest were broad. It looked like he was concealing a seriously impressive physique.
“Er, hi,” I said, like he was my mate. I was such a dick.
“Hi,” he said. He looked pissed off. I doubted it was at me. Nonetheless, I knew very well how to deal with pissed off customers. I had never slid onto my knees under the table for one, but that was definitely on the menu for him if he wanted it. Right here, right now. Not a problem.
“Can I get you another drink?” I asked him. Plus, your phone number, if it’s not too much trouble.
He looked down into his crystal glass, a few lumps of melting ice covering the dregs of some clear liquid. My money was on gin. He looked like a gin drinker to me. He shrugged. “Why not? And the bill, while you’re at it.”
My heart sank in disappointment. “Oh, you’re going?”
He laughed without amusement. More a savage bark. “Yeah, I’m going. A man can only take so much humiliation.”
I swallowed at the expression on his face. “They’re an idiot,” I said, a watered-down version of what I’d said to Max.
He raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Are they? That’s what you get for getting your dates on Grindr.”
I coughed to hide both my delight and shock. Oh really, how lucky was I? He batted for my team. “I don’t know why anyone would want to stand you up,” I said ardently and cursed myself.
He stared at me like he couldn’t believe his ears before seeming to compose himself. He tossed back the remaining liquid in his glass, crunching an ice cube. I saw a flash of beautiful white teeth. “You don’t know me,” he said. “Maybe I’m a terrible person and I deserve it.”
“You don’t look like a terrible person.” Oh, what was I doing? Why didn’t I just ask to suck him off right now?
Once more he held my gaze. “What’s your name?” he asked.
Fuck!“Alex,” I said.
“Well, Alex, get me my drink and my bill, please, then you can have the table for some other poor bastard hoping for some Christmas cheer.” With that, he turned his attention to study the bottom of his glass like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, and I was dismissed. I scuttled away with my face red, feeling so sorry for him my heart could have burst.
“That was a very long conversation,” Max said, when I made it back to the bar.
“Yeah. What’s he drinking?”
Max tapped a few buttons on his iPad. “Raspberry gin with rhubarb tonic. Fruity bastard.”
“Get him another. Make it a double. And take it out of my tip jar.”
Max frowned. “He’s staying?”
“He’s having another, then he’s going.”
Max took a gin glass from the shelf and held it against the optic. “Why are you buying him a drink?”
“I feel sorry for him.”
“You don’t usually buy people drinks. You’re a waiter. Do you know how much this costs?”
“It’s Christmas,” I said. I considered that enough explanation. Although I scrimped and saved and shopped at Aldi, I also wasn’t a miser. I believed in altruism. The world would be a better place if more people tried it. Being nice to people gave me a warm glow. Usually I enjoyed giving presents much more than receiving them. It was the best part of Christmas.
Max added some ice and berries and a slice of lime and bent to the fridge to take out a can of tonic. He poured it in and gave it all a stir with a gin spoon. “You know who he is, don’t you? I thought I recognized him, so I googled him.” He put the glass down on a tray and whipped out his phone.
There it was. I braced myself for some superstar. Premier league football manager and ex-England player. Hollywood superstar. One of those Z-listers who had been in the jungle. If he’d been eating cockroaches in Australia, he could fuck right off out of here. I had some standards.
Max showed me his phone. There was our diner standing on some red carpet in another expensive suit, no trace of a smile on his handsome face. “He owns a massive men’s underwear company. The headquarters is only around the corner.”
I stared at Max and at the photo of the divine customer. My mind plummeted into degradation. I wonder if he wears his own underwear. I wonder if he’s ever modelled it.If he has, I need five minutes to find those images and check out his bulge. “Of course,” I said in a croak. “Of course he does.” And I laughed. I saw his name on the screen. Lucas Rainford. I tried it out in my head and liked it a lot.
“He’s very ethical. All his pants and socks are made from organic cotton or bamboo and manufactured here, no sweatshop shit. He’s carbon neutral with no plastic packaging. Gives ten percent to charity. He pays well above minimum wage. And check out the blokes he has modelling for him.” Max showed me a picture of a scowling dark-haired guy reclining on a bed wearing tight white briefs with what looked like a cucumber and two apples shoved down them.
I stared and Max scrolled down, reading an article. “Seems he’s kind of a recluse. Doesn’t often appear at public things. This was a charity event for animal rescue.”
My heart swelled in my chest. I smiled to myself. Then I felt depressed again on his behalf. A recluse who agreed to a date, only to get stood up in public. I felt burning hatred for the man who had done this to him. “Get me his bill, please,” I said.
Max was still looking at the picture of Lucas Rainford. “He looks like a rabbit caught in the headlights.” He cackled. “He really doesn’t get out much. You’d think the CEO of a massive company would have more social skills.”
“Stop being so mean,” I snapped.
Max looked at me in surprise.
“How would you like to be sitting here on your own on Christmas Eve?”
Shame poured over his face. He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “You’re a good bloke, Alex,” he said. “I wish you had someone to treat you like the diamond you are.”
I reddened. “Calm down.”
“I mean it.” Max was married with a young baby and loved his wife more every day. I envied the sort of all-consuming love he had found, but it was a source of tension for him that he worked unsocial hours and couldn’t be there for his family all the time. He folded the bill on a little saucer and placed it on the tray next to the drink. “Go and ask him out.”
I spluttered. “Yeah, right.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s probably twenty years older than me.”
“So?”
I looked across the room. Lucas had his phone out, head bent over it. “Show me your phone again,” I said. “Let’s see how old he actually is.”
Max smiled. He swiped his phone open, went back to his google search, and located a Wikipedia page. Shit, the man had his own entry. There it was at the top. Born in Lincoln on 25 December 1979.
“Fuck, it’s his birthday tomorrow!” I blurted.
Max looked amused. “He’ll be forty-five. Only nineteen years older than you. Not bad at all.”
I glowered at him. Eighteen really, as it was my birthday in January. What would my mum say? Well, she’d be delighted I was bringing a millionaire home, wouldn’t she? “Scroll down to personal life,” I said.
There were two precious lines summing up the customer sitting by the cherry blossom wall.
Lucas Rainford lives in London. He is currently single.
“There,” Max said. “That’s all you need to know. And now, courtesy of Grindr, he’s still single. Go on.”
I dithered and saw Lucas glance across at me, probably wondering where his drink was. “I can’t!”
“Yes, you can. Write your phone number on his bill.”
“Are you trying to get me sacked?” I cried.
“I’m your manager. I’m not going to sack you.”
“Do you encourage all the staff to harass the customers?”
Max lifted an eyebrow. “Harass? You’re a hot gay man and he’s an even hotter gay man. I doubt there’ll be any harassment.”
“Stop it.”
“And if he’s not into twinks, he’ll tell you to fuck off, won’t he?”
“I’m not a twink, I’m twenty-six!”
“You are a twink. He’ll probably eat you for his birthday breakfast. If you’re lucky.” Max laughed. My cheeks flamed and my cock twitched at the very idea.
“Shut up.” I grabbed the tray. I wasn’t so desperate and so gauche that I would write my number on a customer’s bill. If he wanted it, he would need to ask for it. Not that he would. He was a rich, powerful man, and I was a waiter. I crossed the shark-infested waters once more with my heart racing even faster than previously.
It Happened on Hanukkah by Skylar M Cates
Jake
The ground was muddy from the rain, and I was a dirty mess. I headed to my apartment building, having run through every puddle without hesitation. It wasn’t like anybody was waiting for me or would scold me for my unkempt floor. Soon it would be way too cold to run, with winter ready to roar, so I kept moving. I hated standing still.
My legs were heavy, and I smelled rank, but I always ended my workout with a hard, punishing run up the five flights of my stairwell instead of using the elevator. As I reached the top step, I paused and mopped some sweat at the back of my head with the small gym towel I had around my neck, before swinging open the heavy door.
Even in the cooler weather, I got sweaty as fuck from my run. You’d think I’d raced through a sauna, not the city streets of New York. My Spotify podcast blasted in my ears as I unscrewed the cap on my water bottle, glad the workout was done.
I tipped my head back, shutting my eyes and gulping the water. Quenching my thirst, I moved forward a few steps as I eagerly drank. Few people lived on the fifth floor, and it was deserted in the daytime, so I wasn’t looking where I was going, and sure as hell I didn’t expect to plow right into someone.
“What the hell—” I groaned, cold water sloshing down my chest.
“Oh, sorry.” The other guy tumbled as he tried to back off, so I caught him by the arm.
Why did he apologize, anyhow? I was the big, careless oaf who’d knocked into him.
“Hey, no need for an apology, buddy,” I boomed out, and he shrank against the wall as I stared directly into his big, dark eyes. He had such long eyelashes and delicate, pretty features that even his beard couldn’t hide.
My own face could stop a truck. Maybe sexy—as some guys told me as much—but my features were blunt, never pretty.
“It was my fault.” I lowered my voice significantly, taking out my earbuds. Boxes were strewn about the hallway. “Moving in?”
I flinched at my stupidity. Obviously, he was moving in next door. But he only nodded. It was then that I slowly noted my neighbor had on a starched white shirt, dark slacks, and a yarmulke. He had little caramel-brown curls around his ears. What was a religious Jewish man doing here? The closest synagogue was miles away. I was a lapsed Jew, having had a Bar Mitzvah, and been done with the whole going to temple thing. He was younger than me too. I was pushing thirty, and my frightened neighbor was twenty, at best.
“I’m Goldberg,” I told him. “My buddies call me Jake.”
“Asher,” he whispered, and then he froze. He shook his head, swallowing hard. I could see regret etched on his face. Even though he had answered me, his body language clearly said, “I made a big mistake.”
Since I was a pretty big guy, I was used to some reaction to my size. Even as a teen, I had a natural lumberjack frame. My nickname then was “the Viking” due to my sheer size. In school I had to duck to squeeze into the classroom, and I always feared the tiny desks would squash under my weight. These days, I wasn’t super beefy. My job required a more sculpted physique…although, I hadn’t been a bodyguard to anybody in nearly two years. Not since Brady.
I hastily stepped away and held my hands up, but Asher didn’t relax. And shit, I’d gotten flecks of mud on his crisp white shirt when I’d grabbed him.
I opened my mouth to apologize again, when he hurried to jangle his lock open and slipped inside his apartment, the one next to mine, without another word.
“No last name, then?” I asked, talking to the empty space. For a grown-ass adult, I talked to myself more than I wanted to admit.
Aside from my daily trips to the gym to keep in shape, I saw no one these days. There wasn’t a soul to talk to about Brady, anyhow. He’d been a Hollywood heartthrob who all the girls chased, and I was his unimportant, invisible bodyguard. Until one night we crossed a line, thanks to sudden chemistry and a bottle of tequila. From that night on I was his. Even if he wasn’t mine to keep.
I headed into my apartment, tracking dirt with each step. I’d moved in over a year ago but had little to show for it. Most of my possessions were in storage. I had moved far away to forget, not take it with me. Losing Brady made me see everything he’d left me didn’t matter—not when he was gone.
As I stripped off my mud-streaked clothes, the sound of music came from my neighbor’s apartment, a cello or maybe a violin. The notes were soft as sighs. Like small animals peeking out of their dens, the notes twitched, tentative at first, only to move into a twisting melody. Since Brady’s death, I’d stopped listening to music, preferring my sports podcasts to much else. Not wanting to hear more, I nearly turned away, when one long, pure note broke through the rest.
Everything stopped inside of me with that lone note: so pure, so full of airy sweetness.
I sucked in a hard breath. My fist curled as I placed it over my chest. Memories pumped through me, good and bad. Feelings I had tried to ignore or deny rose up. Feelings for my lost love and feelings of loneliness. My eyes welled as I listened for the next note. Everything I’d tried to forget was somehow in the melody. Brady had been a pop singer turned actor, so classical music wasn’t even a part of our world together, and yet—
That note was the fucking arrow piercing my heart.
Listening near the wall, I thought of how young and hopeful I used to be. The luminous sounds reminding me of that horrible, single moment when I’d lost that person forever. Sometimes, one day can be that powerful, that life-changing.
Just when I began to allow my emotions in and might actually bawl, the music stopped mid-song. As if the beauty of the music had been climbing too high, reaching for too much, and had fallen away. I strained to hear more. Waiting for Asher to play, imagining him sliding his bow across the instrument, grim and intent in his music. I paused, equally grim and intent, wanting and yet dreading more of his song.
But there was only that awful, abrupt silence.
My parents tried to comfort me, being the only people who knew how much Brady’s death meant to me, but it was a stilted type of comfort. My mom never much cared for Brady or his demands of staying closeted. I’d hoped in time they’d get along, but it had never happened. I avoided going home for the holidays for this reason. I wanted to remember Brady as this perfect love, and my parents reminded me that he wasn’t. My mother considered it cheating, what Brady did with those girls, even as I tried to tell her that I had known, that we’d talked about it and he’d been honest with me. Brady had been protecting his career. I denied our fights or my growing doubts. His life had ended as abruptly as the music, before we could resolve anything. No matter anymore. We had loved each other, which was the only truth that lingered on.
Once I was certain the music was no more, I gave up and went to take a quick shower. How stupid to be caught up in some violin music. I hadn’t fled all I’d known to be so weak, so fucking easily, all the barriers I’d erected crumbling. Angrily, I shook off the strange way it had affected me.
The warmth of the shower helped. I closed my eyes, letting the water cascade over me. I kept my hair buzzed, so it was a fast routine, especially because I didn’t care about the stubble along my jaw. Besides, the water pressure was shit in this building, so I’d learned to be fast. Clean and dressed, I headed to the kitchen to make myself some dinner—a cold can of organic turkey chili spaghetti and a beer—got to have some treats in this life—and content, I stayed up watching Netflix. I ate mechanically, not really tasting much. All I wanted was to have somebody to share meals and laughter with, and neither seemed a given.
Maybe that’s why Asher’s violin music got to me today? The notes were chilling. Somber beyond words, it had evoked a coiled tension in me that I needed to forget. I needed not to think. Not to remember how I was supposed to keep Brady safe and I’d failed. I blinked, trying to focus on the television, and I exhaled shakily. Brady hadn’t died because of my bodyguard skills or lack of skills; it had been an accidental drowning. He had been clubbing with some starlet he just met, who wanted him to hook her up with an agent or whatever the fuck, snapping pictures on their social media, right before they decided to go for a night’s swim.
Grunting, I forced my attention back to the mindless sitcom. But I was fucking cold. Surprisingly, this November was mild in the northeast, as if Mother Nature was giving us a chance to collect more nuts before she unleashed December. Still, the freezing cold was coming now and would usually last through March, although every year the New York weather was less predictable. I cranked up the heat and fetched a blanket out of my closet. Then I trudged back to my couch, watching more television since I couldn’t sleep well these days.
Tentacles and Mistletoe by Toby Wise
Chapter One
Milo
Orientation at a brand new job is always awkward. A new environment, new people, new vibes. I’ve always been good at shaping myself however I need to in order to fit in, and this job won’t be any different. Once I actually have time to figure this place out, that is.
When my best friend who works in HR at this company recommended this job to me, I wasn’t entirely sure what to think. I’ve been known to pick up temp jobs from time to time, but this felt so much bigger than my past jobs. Instead of working the desk at a hotel or covering the scheduling for a small town accounting firm, I’ll be taking on the monumental task of being the personal assistant to the CEO of a large company.
Bridgette told me it was the perfect job, especially because she knows how much I enjoy doing administrative work. She also knows I don’t pull my punches and won’t take shit from anyone. Even so, my stomach is turning and my heart feels like it may actually leap out of my chest from how nervous I am.
The company apparently takes care of manufacturing industrial kitchen equipment for restaurants. I find that incredibly interesting. What I find less interesting? Apparently my new boss is a bit of a hard ass and not in the fun way.
Though, now that I think about it, is having an ass that’s hard something fun? I like it when I smack someone’s ass and there’s a bit of jiggle to it. Food for thought.
A short woman with a black bob walks over to me. “You must be Mr. Moreace,” she says with a smile, holding out her hand for me to shake. As I shake her hand, I take a deep breath. I smile, realizing I’ll be around other shifters at this job. Being around people like me lets a little weight fall from my chest.
She smells like a wolf and depending on how well she is at picking shifter notes from people’s scents, she’ll either clock that I’m an octopus or she’ll assume I’m some sort of sea creature. Either way, it’s nice to know I’m not alone.
“You can call me Milo. Are you Brenda?”
“I am. I’ll be the one onboarding you today. We’re incredibly excited to have you here, Milo. Bridgette has had nothing but good things to say about you.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m excited to be here as well.”
We spend the entire morning going over things. I fill out some paperwork, sign a few things saying I won’t share anything I learn from this job with competitors and to keep anything I learn about Mr. Ongash, my new boss, to myself. Plus, there’s some standard tax forms I have to fill out. After that, Brenda shows me around the office. I get to meet a handful of people, see where Bridgette’s office is, and get a better feel for the lay of the land around here. Finally, we make our way to the IT office so they can get me all set up with my work equipment and login credentials. It’s all very straightforward and nothing I haven’t dealt with before.
Overall, it’s a wonderful start. I’m practically beaming as we make our way to the top floor where Mr. Ongash’s office is located. I’m not entirely sure why, but I have a really good feeling about this place. There’s something about it that has me almost skipping as we get out of the elevator and make our way to Mr. Ongash’ office.
“Okay, so you know where the bathrooms are, the cafeteria, the breakroom, and where all the important offices are. We’ve gotten all your paperwork signed and squared away. You’ve been given your laptop and all of your login information,” Brenda says, checking things off her mental list. “I think that’s just about everything. Let’s get you up to Mr. Ongash’s office so you can see exactly where your desk is. This is where the majority of your time will be spent.”
“Perfect,” I say with a bright smile, holding my new laptop against my chest. “Lead the way.”
Heading out of the elevator, there’s a glass door straight ahead of us and a hallway that goes to the left and to the right. We walk through the glass doors. The room we walk into is like a huge glass box. Every office in here has large glass walls so I can see exactly who’s in and who has clients or is on the phone. The far wall is the only one that has an office with regular walls and a regular door. There are two offices on the left and two on the right.
The office at the far end of the room has a desk in front of it and I realize that will be where I’m stationed for the foreseeable future. The door behind the desk has a plaque, showing that it’s Baylen Ongash’s office.
I’ll be at this job until Martha, Baylen’s other assistant, comes back from maternity leave. She’s scheduled to be gone for the next six months but Bridgette mentioned she may stay gone for an entire year. That’s not that much time in the grand scheme of things but it still makes me just a tad bit worried. I’m used to quick, temporary jobs and this one might turn into something longer.
What if Baylen really is an asshole to everyone including me? How long will he actually put up with me if I refuse to take his shit?
I’ve never been fired from a job before but who’s to say this isn’t the one to ruin that streak?
“This is going to be your main location,” Brenda explains, gesturing at the room. “The four others in here aren’t your concern though from time to time, you may need to help them with little things, as long as those things don’t interfere with what you have going on for Mr. Ongash. They only work from here occasionally, or when they’re taking on meetings with important people. These are the heads of the other departments.”
I nod along. “Thank you for the explanation. I’m sure I’ll figure out the swing of things quickly. I’ve always been good at adapting to whatever environment I’m in,” I say with a subtle wink that makes Brenda give me a knowing smile. Octopi are known for being intelligent and squeezing into any situation they’re thrown into, I’m planning to handle this job in exactly the same manner.
I make my way behind the desk, placing my things down and opening my laptop. The door behind me swings open and I freeze.
God fucking damn it. I didn’t know my boss was going to be hot.
My heart leaps up into my throat and my mouth runs dry. I want to look away. I want to act like everything is business as usual but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from the man in front of me. My entire body heats all over, an instant crush starts to take root inside of me. Oh fuck.
I’m going to have some strong words with Bridgette tonight about disclosing all the important information before I take another job that she suggests!
Baylen Ongash is taller than me with strong looking shoulders that taper down into a thin waist. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a runner based on his body shape. His eyes are bright blue. He has a clean-shaven face while his hair is blond, cut into a very smart style, short on the sides with just a little bit more on the top.
He’s wearing black slacks, a white shirt that’s got green pinstripes, and black suspenders over his shoulders. He’s fucking gorgeous. I feel my mouth run dry and my brain scrambles in an effort to keep up with this new information.
Baylen looks between Brenda and I, those pretty blue eyes narrowing. He checks the watch on his wrist. “It’s after lunch,” he states, “why are you so late? That’s not a very good impression for your first day of work, is it?”
I open my mouth to respond. That little crush I was suddenly developing? Yeah, that shit has dried up in record time, because Baylen might be a smoke show but apparently, he really is a dick. It’s fucking orientation! What did he expect?
Brenda jumps in before I can say something. “It’s Milo’s first day, sir. I just finished his orientation and getting everything squared away. Starting now, he’s officially on the clock and at your disposal.”
“Don’t let it happen again, Milo,” he says before shaking his head and going back into his office, closing the door behind him.
I bite my bottom lip so hard it might actually start bleeding. I close my eyes and count to ten before turning back towards Brenda. “What a lovely man,” I say with a fake smile. “I can see that the next few months are going to be a blast.”
Brenda cracks the tiniest smile before her professional face is back in place. “Let’s make sure you have everything you need. All the incoming emails to Martha are now going to be redirected to you. She’s left you a binder of notes to help get you started. If you have any questions, you can email me or go directly to Mr. Ongash.”
“Thank you so much for your help, I really appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome.” Brenda turns to leave before pausing. She turns back to me. “Umm, good luck, Milo.”
The excitement I was feeling earlier? Yeah, that’s pretty much been lost, replaced by a static nervous energy.
I log into my new laptop and open up my emails. I’ve literally had this account for a few hours and already it shows I have 300 new emails. How the fuck is that even possible? I push my glasses onto the top of my head so I can rub at my eyes for a moment before putting them back into place and getting to work.
I start at the top, realizing I don’t know who the fuck is who and decide maybe it’ll be smarter is I flip through Martha’s binder first. That’s an excellent decision because she’s got a page filled with who’s important at this company, including the names of shareholders, the board of directors, the head of each department, and even notes on Baylen’s family.
Apparently, any time his mother calls, I’m to put her through no matter what. Baylen and his mom are super close. Okay, knowing that makes the coldness in my chest towards him melt the tiniest bit. I have a feeling it’ll only be a matter of time before he somehow freezes me all over again.
With this newfound knowledge, I start to traverse the disaster that is my inbox. A few of these are easy peasy, just emailing them to explain who I am and that I’m taking over for Martha while she’s on maternity leave. Others have details about upcoming events. I pull out my planner, immediately jotting some of this down, making sure my personal calendar is cleared.
Jesus, I should have realized this job was going to be so involved.
As I’m getting through the emails, the door behind me opens again. I turn around, putting on my best smile only to have Baylen not even acknowledge me at first. He’s talking to someone on his earpiece.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s perfect. Hey, can you hold just one moment? Yeah, I’ll be right back.” Baylen pulls out his wallet, tossing a card onto my desk before pressing a button on his earpiece. “Hey, I wasn’t able to get lunch. Can you run across the street to that food stand and grab me some shredded chicken tacos and a diet soda? Thanks.”
“Really?”
Baylen’s hand freezes on its way up to the earpiece. He turns towards me fully, raising his brow.
“It’s so nice to officially meet you, Mr. Ongash,” I say, putting on my best ‘fuck you’ smile, letting my voice take on a sickly sweet tone. “I’m so pleased to be working for someone so kind and personable. In the future, I would much prefer you hand me things instead of throwing them at me, if that’s okay with you, sir?”
Baylen stares at me for a long moment before he nods. “My apologies. I wasn’t thinking,” he says. “It won’t happen again,” his voice trails off.
I just barely keep myself from rolling my eyes. He doesn’t even know my name? Really?
“Milo,” I say, again with that giant grin. I reach out and grab his hand, giving it a gentle shake before turning around and picking up his card. “I’ll be right back with your lunch.”
I make my way out of the office without looking back. I’m not sure how long Baylen sits there but eventually, I hear his voice pick up again as he goes back to his call.
If he thinks he can treat people like that, he’s got another thing coming.
Silver Linings by Nic Starr
Chapter One
Cam
I step behind Greg and wrap my arms around his waist as he flips the pancakes. The pan sizzles as the aroma of melted butter and sweet batter fills our kitchen.
“Smells amazing, babe.” I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Glad I married a man who can cook.”
Greg chuckles and leans back into my embrace. “Well, one of us has to be able to feed us. Can’t subsist on just coffee alone, even if it is the best in town.”
He’s just giving me shit, because I know my way around a kitchen. As the owner of CC’s coffee shop, I’ve flipped a pancake or two or a thousand in my time. But Greg likes to look after me and I like to let him. I grin and give him a playful squeeze before releasing him to grab plates from the cupboard.
We work in tandem like a well-oiled machine, him cooking, me setting the table. Once I’ve finished, I start a quick cleanup, taking the empty batter bowl to rinse. The faucet lets out a groan as I turn the handle.
“Ugh, this leaky faucet is driving me nuts,” I groan, trying to stem the dribble. “Do you think it’s an easy fix? Maybe just needs a new washer or something?”
“Maybe.” Greg slides the last pancake onto a plate and turns off the stove. He walks over to inspect the drip, giving the handle a final twist. “I can take a look at it later, try tightening things up. I know my way around a toolbox.”
I huff a laugh. “Is that so? I seem to recall an incident involving an Allen wrench and a tantrum not too long ago…”
“Hey!” Greg holds up his hands in mock offense. “That was one time. And IKEA furniture hardly counts.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. Greg’s grin is wide as he picks up our plates, carrying them to the table already set with maple syrup and two steaming mugs of coffee made from freshly ground beans.
The scent of breakfast mingles with the ever-present hint of coffee that permeates our home. I pick up my mug as soon as I sit and take a sip, soaking up this perfect moment of domesticity with the man I love. These little moments, the teasing and the teamwork, remind me how lucky I am, leaky faucets and all.
“Alright, dig in before it gets cold,” Greg says, smiling at me over his stack of syrup-drenched pancakes.
“And what do you have planned today?” I ask, picking up my knife and fork.
“I’ve got a couple of client consults this morning, then I guess I’m fixing the faucet,” he replies with a chuckle.
I swallow a mouthful of fluffy pancake. “Speaking of home improvements, how’s the bathroom coming along?”
Greg’s face lights up at the mention of the project that’s been keeping him busy. “Oh, it’s going great! The new tiles were delivered yesterday. They’re going to look amazing.”
“I can’t wait to see them.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Greg wags a finger at me. “No peeking!”
“I wouldn’t dare.” And honestly, I wouldn’t. Greg is renovating the main bathroom as a gift for me and I won’t ruin his surprise, although I’m sorely tempted. “And the new vanity?” The huge carton has been sitting in the garage for a month now.
“Assembled and ready to install.” Greg puffs out his chest a little. “Told you I could handle an Allen wrench.”
I throw him a wink. “My handyman extraordinaire.”
We lapse into silence for a few moments as we finish the pancakes, my mind full of the progress we’re making on our little cottage. Each project, each improvement, is another step in building our life together. As I reach for my coffee, a thought that’s never far from my mind these days resurfaces.
I clear my throat. “You know,” I begin, trying for casual but hearing the weight in my tone, “with the house coming together, I’ve been thinking more about… about starting a family.”
Greg’s eyes soften, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Me too, Cam. I want that with you. More than anything.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He sets down his mug and reaches for my hand across the table. “I know we’ve talked about it before in general terms, but I think the time is right. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready. Whenever you are.”
I squeeze his fingers, emotion welling up in my chest. “I’m ready too. I want to be a dad. I want us to be fathers. Together. I want to raise our child in this house, in this town. I want to give them all the love and support we have to give.”
“We will.” His voice is laced with feeling. “We’re going to be amazing parents. I just know it.”
Nodding, I blink back the tears threatening to spill over. Talking about kids always makes me emotional, and my feelings are only amplified by knowing how much Greg shares my dreams. They are our dreams. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Cam. Always.”
We sit there for a long moment, hands clasped. I’m so lucky to have this man in my life. We’ve been through some really tough times, but we’ve done it together. Now the future stretches out ahead, and with Greg by my side, I’m ready for anything life throws our way.
“Well,” I say eventually, “I’d better get moving.”
I drain the last of my coffee then push up from my seat and reach for my plate.
“Leave it,” Greg says. “I’ll take care of it. You’ll have enough tables to clear today.”
“So true.” I laugh and do as he says. With a quick kiss and a promise to text later in the day, I leave him at the table and step out into the crisp October morning.
Collier’s Creek is just starting to come alive as I make my way down the sidewalk. The sun peeks through the branches of the towering maples that line the street, casting dappled shadows across the pavement. The air is cool, carrying the faintest hint of wood smoke. Leaves crunch beneath my feet as I make my way down the block.
I round the corner onto Main Street and toward the town square. Mrs. Anderson is out sweeping the front step of her craft and fabric shop, her gray hair pulled back in a tidy bun. She waves as I pass, her face creasing into a grin.
“Morning, Cameron!” she calls. “Off to work?”
“Yep,” I reply, returning her wave. “Can’t keep Collier’s Creek running without its caffeine fix.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “Ain’t that the truth. You give my best to that husband of yours, you hear? Tell him I’ll make an appointment for next week.”
Greg’s a financial planner and has clients all over town.
“Will do, Mrs. A,” I say. “See you later.”
I continue on, passing the hardware store and the preschool, nodding to the folks I know. I cross the road outside the general store, just in time to see Logan Nichols darting into the bookstore, Ellis Books, with a takeout cup in hand. I’m sorry I’ve missed seeing him for his regular morning coffee.
It hits me, as it often does, just how much I love this place. This quirky close-knit town where everyone knows your name and your business. Where people look out for each other, celebrate each other’s joys and rally around in times of sorrow. God knows, we’ve needed a lot of support over recent years what with all the shit that’s gone down—first with Greg’s accident, and then Mom’s MS.
Collier’s Creek is where Greg and I have built our life together. Where we’ve poured our hearts into building our businesses and making a home and a future. And now, with the promise of parenthood on the horizon, I feel that sense of belonging even more. I want to raise our child here, among these tree-lined streets and friendly faces. I want them to know the warmth of a community that cares, the security of roots that run deep.
The front of CC’s comes into view as I step up the curb, and my heart gives a leap of pleasure. This is more than just my livelihood—it’s an extension of everything I hold dear. A place where people come to connect, to share their lives over steaming mugs and fresh-baked pastries.
The bell chimes as I step inside, the rich scent of coffee grounds and pastries immediately enveloping me. Most of the tables are full and the hum of conversation fills the room.
“Morning, Cam,” Will calls from behind the front counter. His dark hair is messy, there’s a tea towel slung over his shoulder, and he’s making yet another coffee. Somehow he’s still smiling after what has no doubt been a busy morning.
“Hey there.” I grin back, grabbing my apron from the hook on the wall and putting it on. “Thanks for coming in to open up. How’s the morning been?”
“Just picking up now,” Will says, passing the cups of espresso he’s just made to the server, Josh. “I hope you enjoyed your sleep-in and are ready for the morning rush.”
“Always,” I reply. “Where do you want me? Register and food duty, or on the machine?”
“I’ve got this,” Will replies, indicating the machine. “Although I haven’t had time to plate up all the pastries yet.”
Will’s been with me for a while now and has become an integral part of the CC’s family. His charm has endeared him to our regulars, and I couldn’t be more grateful for his presence. He usually works school hours so he can be home with his son, Maverick, but now he’s got Colton, he comes in early every now and then so I can enjoy the morning spent with Greg. Josh is also a godsend, as is his mom, Donna, who is a baker extraordinaire, and comes in each day in the early hours before the coffee shop opens.
I get to work setting up the pastry case while Will brews coffee, and Josh clears tables. The bell tinkles. I look up and see Mrs. Walsh, one of our regulars, pushing open the door, her large purse over her arm.
“Good morning, Mrs. Walsh.” I’m already preparing her usual order—a large Earl Grey tea and a blueberry muffin. “How are you today?”
“Oh, can’t complain, dear,” she replies. “Just here for my daily dose of caffeine and gossip.”
I chuckle, handing over her muffin then adding a splash of milk to the tea. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m sure Will’s got all the latest news from the town council meeting last night.”
As Mrs. Walsh, tea in hand, chats to Will about something Mayor Hobart said, more customers trickle in. I lose myself in the familiar rhythm of serving customers—taking orders, prepping simple food, ensuring the place is running like a well-oiled machine. Will passes across a takeout cup.
“Large chai latte for Sarah!” I call out, sliding the drink across the counter to a tired-looking young woman in scrubs. She flashes me a grateful smile before dashing out the door, no doubt on her way to the clinic down the street. She must be new in town because I’ve never seen her before.
As the morning wears on, the coffee shop is filled with the chatter of friends and the clinking of cups. I move from table to table, refilling mugs and exchanging pleasantries. This is what I love most about CC’s—the way it brings people together. I’m in my element. I love being part of the day-to-day of the coffee shop, providing a place where people feel welcome, and are more than just a customer. I like to think that’s what makes CC’s special—a home away from home.
Later, when Will’s on his break and I’m wiping down the counter, Mrs. Hendricks, another of our regulars, approaches.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hendricks. Your usual vanilla latte?”
She nods, although her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, please, Cameron.”
As I prepare her drink, she fidgets with the buttons on her cardigan. I sense that something’s weighing on her mind and feel a tug of concern. “Is everything alright? You seem a bit down today.”
She sighs. “Oh, it’s nothing, dear. Just feeling a bit lonely, I suppose. Grandpa Ellis is busy working at the bookstore, and the house feels so empty without him.”
I place her latte on the counter and give a gentle smile. “I understand. It’s never easy being apart from the ones we love. How about I bring your drink over to a table?” I’m sure a bit of company will do her the world of good.
This time there’s warmth in her smile. “Thank you, Cameron. You always know exactly the right thing to say, and that sounds like a lovely idea.”
She takes a seat by the window instead of heading straight out as she usually does. As I drop off her latte, one of the book club ladies joins her, and Mrs. Hendrick’s face lights up.
As I watch the two of them, my thoughts drift to my own tough times. Greg and I have faced our share of challenges, but we’ve been lucky to have the support of our families and friends, and we’ve come through the worst of those times.
I glance at the clock, realizing it’s time to take a break. The morning rush has died down, so I take the opportunity to call Greg. It’s become a ritual—a random call sometime during the day, just to hear each other’s voices and share the little moments of our day. I’m not sure who looks forward to the call more—me or Greg, who works from home.
With a nod to Will, I step into the back room, pulling out my phone and dialing Greg’s number. He answers on the second ring.
“Hey, babe,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s your day going?”
“Better now that I’m talking to you. The morning rush was crazy, but we managed. How about you? How’s work treating you?”
We discuss a client he’s working with and I ask him about the bathroom.
Greg laughs. “You’re obsessed.”
“I can’t stop thinking about our plans,” I confess, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Imagining our family, with a child running around the house, filling it with laughter.”
“I know,” Greg replies, his tone mirroring my own. “It’s all I can think about too. We’re so close, Cam. I can feel it.”
We talk for a while and when I hang up the phone, I’m smiling. It’s an awesome life we’re building together.
Ellie ThomasEllie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical romance.
Ellie also writes historical erotic romance under the pen name L. E. Thomas.
Scarlet Blackwell's jam is m/m enemies-to-lovers romance. Her stories are usually small town contemporary but she has been known to throw the odd historical or paranormal into the mix and a hot cop fairly often.
She likes unusual settings and atypical, flawed heroes. Her stories are dark and gritty and her themes are not for the faint-hearted, but a HEA is always assured.
Emotional, Roller-Coaster Romance
Skylar M. Cates loves a good, heartfelt romance, especially ones that are both steamy and emotionally satisfying. She is quite happy to drink some coffee, curl up with a good book, and not move all day. Her novels feature strong, passionate characters who care about their friends and family. Skylar loves to craft stories where people are challenged by vulnerable situations. Although lately the laundry room is the farthest place she has visited, Skylar still loves to chat with people from all around the globe. Contact her on Twitter, Facebook, or through her newsletter.
Toby Wise is a stay at home parent who hails from a tiny town in Wisconsin. Contrary to popular Wisconsin stereotypes, he’s not a cheese-head who enjoys beer but rather an introvert who spends all his time on the internet, drinking coffee, spending time with his kid, and cooing about his adorable cat, Pikachu.
In April of 2019, A Collection of Strays was born after the world of fanfiction drew him back into his love of writing. Now he’s writing all things omegaverse and paranormal as long as it includes silly moments and found family.
Nic Starr lives in Australia where she tries to squeeze as much into her busy life as possible. Balancing the demands of a corporate career with raising a family and writing can be challenging but she wouldn't give it up for the world.
Always a reader, the lure of m/m romance was strong and she devoured hundreds of wonderful m/m romance books before eventually realising she had some stories of her own that needed to be told!
When not writing or reading, she loves to spend time with her family-an understanding husband and two beautiful daughters-and is often found indulging in her love of cooking and planning her dream home in the country.
You can find Nic on Facebook, Twitter and her blog. She'd love it if you stopped by to say hi.
Ellie Thomas
SMASHWORDS / JMS BOOKS / B&N
Scarlet Blackwell
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO
PAYHIP / GOOGLE PLAY / iTUNES
B&N / INSTAGRAM / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: scarlet.blackwell@hotmail.com
Skylar M Cates
A Christmas Cotillion by Ellie Thomas
A Christmas Less Lonely by Scarlet Blackwell
It Happened on Hanukkah by Skylar M Cates
Tentacles and Mistletoe by Toby Wise
Silver Linings by Nic Starr
