Summary:
Adrien English Christmas Short
Amidst the twinkling lights and snow-kissed streets of a quaint, picture-perfect town in the High Sierra, a bookstore owner and former homicide detective are reminded that the greatest mysteries are the ones that lead us to love.
Join Adrien English and Jake Riordan one last time in a short, sweet tale that will warm your heart and remind you that love knows no bounds, especially during the most magical time of the year.
Original Review January 2023:
Adrien English Christmas? YAY!!!
Adrien & Jake holiday short? YAY!!!
Adrien with no mystery? Unusual but still YAY!!!
Let's face it, I love these two that I'd be all grabby hands to read a short about them eating breakfast. Hard to imagine Adrien and Jake without the threat of mayhem and destruction but seeing them enjoying a quiet holiday getaway before all the family gathering is wonderfully fun. The fact that Jake is behind the getaway just puts me in all kinds of feels that only their relationship and journey getting there can fill me with.
Who knows if the pair will ever let the author in on any of their future escapades but as I said above I love Adrien and Jake so deeply that I'd read all kinds of day to day life😉.
Summary:
Wishing Tree, Vermont #2
Trapped in a snowstorm, Paul and Lucas find that unresolved feelings from a single, impulsive kiss could spark something deeper, leading them toward the most magical Christmas miracles.
The festive season offers nothing but despair for Paul ‘Holly’ Hollister, the once-proud captain of the Albany Harriers. His once-glittering hockey career has crumbled, leaving him crippled with anxiety and without a sense of direction. After a stint in rehab, Holly is desperate for peace—something his best friend Kai seems to have found in the snowy town of Wishing Tree. Despite his hatred for the cold, Holly is drawn there by friendship—and by the unsettling dreams of Lucas Haynes, the man he drunkenly kissed at Kai and Bailey’s wedding and hasn’t been able to forget since. The only problem? Lucas is determined to keep him at arm’s length.
Lucas Haynes has never felt a romantic pull toward anyone—until that unexpected kiss with Holly at his brother’s wedding flipped his world upside down. Finding out Holly was already in a relationship afterward had only fueled his frustration and his decision to avoid the hockey star. But now that Holly is in Wishing Tree, single and adrift, Lucas can’t deny the attraction that still simmers between them. When a snowstorm traps them together, Lucas’ sarcasm and distrust slowly crumble under Holly’s vulnerability. As secrets come to light, old wounds are reopened, and the undeniable spark between them grows into something more, Lucas starts to wonder if this closeness could be the love he never thought he’d find—and if Holly might get the second chance at happiness he so desperately needs.
A Christmas for Holly is an opposites-attract, hurt/comfort, Christmas romance featuring a retired hockey captain with crippling anxiety, a guarded gift store owner grappling with unexpected attraction, unresolved tension from a drunken wedding kiss, a charming small town blanketed in snow, meddling but loving family, and a snowstorm that brings honesty and vulnerability to light—leading to a heartwarming holiday happily ever after.
Due to some family health issues this won't be as long a review as I typically do. Also, due to those health issues it took me a bit longer to read A Christmas for Holly than usual as well but don't for a minute think if was because RJ Scott's 2024 Xmas story wasn't as good as any of her others, because it was brilliant. Not only was the story full of love, friendship, chemistry, family, drama, healing, and all around heart it also included some Thanksgiving talk which is hard to find in the LGBT genre.
There are early moments where you want to give Holly a smack but at the same time it is pretty obvious he is dealing with some internal issues so despite the hurt he causes you just want to wrap him a huge Mama Bear Hug. As a caregiver, I appreciate the patience Lucas has, probably more than I would have in that situation. There is just so much packed into this holiday fare, you can't help but feel completely enveloped by the emotions of the season and connected to all the characters. Truly an all around holiday entertaining gem.
And if you've read The Wishing Tree(book 1), you get a glimpse of Kai and Bailey as well and their story was such a lovely read that getting to see them again was just the bow on the package. If you have yet to read Wishing Tree, Vermont book 1, you won't be lost as they are separate couples with their own stories but I think knowing their journey helps paint a more complete picture.
Wintering with George by Mary Calmes
Summary:With George #2
George Hunt is certain that spending time with his boyfriend’s family over the holidays will be a disaster. How can it not? For starters, he knows nothing about families, never having had one, as for the rest…talk about pressure. What if he messes up, says the wrong thing, and ends up losing the most important person in his life? Dr. Kurt Butler is his miracle; George can’t afford any missteps. But if he’s careful and does everything right, perhaps they’ll see his good qualities instead of the lethal ones.
Sometimes, though, fate lets you put your best foot forward, and George gets to show off how handy he is to have around when bullets start flying. If he can keep everyone alive long enough to do some wintering, maybe he’ll discover that a family is something worth having after all.
Original Review March 2024:
George Hunt truly is the star of this holiday novella. Obviously he was the main focus of Just George as well but we also had Hannah Kage and as she is nearly as a big of a trouble magnet as her father, Jory Kage, she has an unwitting tendency to draw the readers attention away from anything else around her😉. That's not a bad thing, as a matter of fact it was a brilliant way for us to get sucked into George's journey.
I got sidetracked there. Let's talk George Hunt and the man who owns his heart, Dr. Kurt Butler in Wintering George . . .
George and Kurt are just as great together in their established relationship as they were when they first were thrown together in Just George. George is returning from an unexpected mission, who am I kidding😉, all his missions are unexpected that just comes with the territory but he does it so well and he has a routine to unwind, to readjust, to regroup his mind and body after the action. Unfortunately as there was the typical SNAFU that comes with his profession he is unable to have his routine and has to fly straight to Kurt's family holiday. Despite not being able to let his mind and body come down as needed he is still the gentleman with the family meets but he also has the presence of mind to spot trouble as they near the family's home.
That's all the details you're getting from me as I don't want to spoil any of the possible mayhem that ensues. I will say it's not the family holiday that Kurt's sister and family planned but in the end it's the holiday they probably all needed the most. I know it sounds cryptic but no spoilers from me so cryptic is what you are getting😉.
George may not be a trouble magnet like the earlier mentioned Jory and Hannah Kage are but he does seem to have a knack of being in the wrong place, wrong time or perhaps more accurately stated: right place, right time considering his expertise in the area of mayhem.
For those who are looking for a heartwarming Xmassy tale, then don't be put off by the mayhem label because Wintering George definitely leaves you full of all the loving holiday feels. For those(like me) who enjoy a little danger to combat all the happy happy, Wintering is perfect for you too because there is a perfect blend of sweet and salty in this novella. If you only like reading about Christmas in December(possibly July for Xmas in July) then be sure and bookmark this tale so it doesn't get lost in 2024's additions to you TBR list.
One last note: if wondering, you don't have to read Just George first, Mary Calmes does a lovely job referencing how George and Kurt met so you won't be lost but I know I'm glad I read it, I just think I have a deeper heartfelt connection to both men having read it but it's not a must.
Summary:
Nick Williams Mystery #17
Monday, December 19, 1955
It's early in the morning and Carter is worried that he and Nick won't be warm enough for their Christmas trip to Vermont.
Nick, for his part, is wondering if they will ever be able to return to the big pile of rocks he's finally come to love. An exile in France isn't the worst thing in the world but still...
But before they can get much more than halfway from San Francisco to Vermont, they discover that the mob is after them and is on their tails, chasing them across the country as they take planes, trains, and automobiles.
They finally get to Vermont, all covered in freshly-fallen white snow, and begin to wonder if it will be their last Christmas, after all.
I'll admit once again to jumping around to read entries that fit the holiday currently going on and in doing so I know there are something factors I'm a little unawares about, so there might be a few holes here and there info tidbit-wise that need to be filled, for which I'm truly looking forward to but at the same time I wasn't lost. The main reason I wasn't lost? Nick and Carter stories having mystery and ongoing scenarios but the meat and potatoes of their world is the chemistry and love between them and the ever growing found family they have around them.
A Happy Holiday finds them trying to have possibly one last holiday with family and friends before being exiled in Paris. As par for the course, things don't exactly go as planned but that doesn't mean the holiday cheer is ruined just downsized a bit. That's about the extent plot-wise you'll get out of me but just know Holiday will suck you in until you reach that final page.
When you jump into Nick Williams and Carter Jones' world you never know what you're going to get: pure mystery, pure romance, friendship, family, drama, blend of some, blend of all, holidays, every day, but one thing that is guaranteed: you will always be entertained and taken on an amazing journey.
Holiday Surprise #2
Sean's not looking forward to another year of playing the Ice Palace Prince.
When Sean came up with the idea for Valle Granja's Ice Palace and Winter Village market for the holidays, he never imagined that he'd be named the honorary prince of the event. Now, several years in, he can't seem to ditch the title. But at least there's one perk. He gets to admire one of the business partners for the event, a man he knew in hich school: Lowell. It's just too bad the handsome alpha is probably already taken.
Lowell's been attracted to Sean since high school, but never dared to say anything.
Between being a nerdy alpha during high school, and not wanting to face off against Sean's alpha girlfriend, Lowell's always admired the other man from afar. But as he interacts with the gorgeous omega he starts to wonder if everything he knew about the him was true.
But even if Sean's available and likes men, would he be interested in Lowell?
Ice Palace Prince is a 14K word , non-shifter, M/M, Mpreg romance
Again, another book read out of order but in this series, Holiday Surprise, each book is a standalone with a different couple at the forefront. Some friendships carryover but it's not a necessity to know their journeys before reading a new book.
Ice Palace Prince is another lovely, entertaining, and fun read that is perfect for holiday fare. Second chance romance just screams Xmassy to me, or perhaps in this case "youthful miscommunications" mixed with "bossy perceived high school girlfriend" is more accurate than "second chance" as Sean and Lowell never really had a first chance waybackwhen.
Again, Lacey Daize nails everything in this entertaining holiday gem.
A Funny Thing Happened by Josh Lanyon
“Whoa,” Jake said. “I could feel that frown from the front door.”
I glanced up from the pages of the glossy fashion magazine Natalie had left on the front desk, and stopped scowling. “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”
As Jake reached me, I pulled my mask down, and we kissed hello. He smelled like the night, cold and sharp, with a hint of faded aftershave; a peculiarly seductive blend of Mandarin orange and leather. You’d think by now I’d be used to…well, all of it. But the pressure of his mouth was warm against mine, and our lips lingered…lingered… Turns out, love is sticky stuff.
We reluctantly parted—and Jake promptly, gently pulled my mask back up. He pulled his mask up.
I sighed. “You know, it’s after-hours. We’re alone now.”
He touched the tip of my masked nose. “Yep. It’s just you, me, and fifty billion germs.”
Clearly, he was forgetting about trigger-happy Natalie and her trusty can of linen-scented Lysol disinfectant.
The agreement we made was I’d continue to work at Cloak and Dagger through the pandemic, but pledged to be extra-diligent and super-vigilant about following all virus protocols. Which I complied with because A – I’m not an idiot, and B – making Jake happy is a priority for me.
I mean, it’s a mask. Try being on a fucking ventilator. Been there, done that, and will do everything in my power to avoid repeating the experience.
“Speaking of catching germs. How’d your day go?” I asked.
In September, Jake had landed a job with Brannigan Investigations. Brannigan’s is one of LA’s oldest PI firms. It’s where old money Angelenos go for help when no one can know the trouble they’ve gotten themselves into. A coup for Jake, sure, but it hadn’t been an easy transition. For one thing, it closed the door, once and for all, on his career in law enforcement. Which…that door was already closed, but this was like installing a deadbolt. But also, Jake liked the freedom of being his own boss. What he hadn’t liked was the unpredictability of the kinds of cases that came his way—when they came his way—or the precariousness of his finances. So he’d taken the job at Brannigan Investigations.
Fortunately, they seemed to really like him there, and he liked the owner, Mary Brannigan, the great-granddaughter of the original Brannigan. Jake liked having resources, and respect, and a steady paycheck.
“Good,” he said. “Even better, I’ve got the next four days off.”
“Four days?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. They gave you Christmas Eve, Christmas, Boxing Day, and whatever Monday is?” That was more than cool because I too had Christmas Eve, Christmas, Boxing Day, and whatever Monday was. They really did like him at work if they were giving him four days of primo holiday real estate.
I couldn’t quite read the look he was giving me. Jake said, “I’m thinking Monday is a travel day.”
My brows shot up. “A travel day? Where are you going?”
“We can talk about it on the drive home. You ready to head out?”
Mysterious. But okay. It’s well established that I like mysteries.
I said briskly, “Just waiting for you. Let me grab my coat and cat.”
He made a sound of amusement, waiting as I rounded up Tompkins, hustled him into his carrier, and struggled into my coat.
Jake took the carrier from me. On our way out, he glanced at the stairs leading to my former flat. “Is Natalie out?”
What he really meant was, Is Larkin out? Larkin, my three-month-old nephew, was Natalie’s son. Jake adored Larkin, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Granted, Larkin seemed to adore everyone. I’ve never been much of a fan of babies, but that kid was pretty cute and not entirely objectionable.
Not objectionable at all, really.
I said, “They’re spending the holiday weekend with Lisa and Bill.” Three and a half years ago, my mother married Councilman Bill Dauten, thus supplying me with three ready-made sisters, all accessories included. The latest accessory being the aforementioned Larkin.
Jake frowned. “Then who’s running the bookstore?” Jumping to the conclusion that I was backing out of our agreement, meaning my commitment to a new and healthier lifestyle. Last year’s Christmas present to him. And to myself, I guess.
I said patiently, “Which means, Angus and Bliss are covering tomorrow, and then we’re closed until next Wednesday.”
Bliss was my latest hire. She was…interesting, as girls—young women—with mermaid-colored hair so often are. I felt she was a woman of possibilities. One possibility being (though I denied it when Jake suggested such a thing) that I thought Bliss might provide a good distraction for Angus, who continued to be worryingly smitten with Natalie.
Jake relaxed. I held the door for him, patting his back as he carried Tompkins out.
At this time of year, the night held a spicy festive fragrance—or maybe that was the pine and peppermint scented oil plug-ins stashed around Cloak and Dagger’s sales floor. Because…Natalie.
I turned back to drag the security gate shut. Behind the bars the forest of bookshelves stood motionless and silent, fake evergreen garland glistening and tiny lanterns glittering in the cozy gloom. Natalie had placed a Santa hat on the grinning skull on the fireplace mantle.
A Christmas for Holly by RJ Scott
Chapter 1
Lucas
Last Christmas
With fresh snow falling and everyone’s breath turning to mist in the cold, I watched my little brother Bailey marry my best friend Kai. I never imagined seeing them exchange vows would hit me this hard, because I wasn’t swept up in romance or fairy-tale moments. But there was something about how Kai’s eyes lit up when Bailey slid the ring onto his finger, about how they looked at each other as if nothing else mattered. It wasn’t jealousy that I felt—just a pang of… something.
Of what, I couldn’t say.
As one of four boys—Callum, Duncan, me, then Bailey, the youngest—Bailey had plenty of choices for best man, and Callum had gotten the honor by default. He was doing an admirable job, standing tall and proud, as if he’d waited his whole life to usher his kid brother into marriage. I already had my role as shared best man—Kai’s. It was a title I co-owned with Paul “Holly” Hollister, current captain of the Albany Harriers, the team Kai had just retired from.
Holly was bright, loud, and always on, and today was no different. He flirted with everyone and made so many people smile.
Including me.
And, for some reason, whenever he smiled at me, it made my heart do strange things, as it had done since I first met him when we were both eighteen. I’d gone to the draft in Winnipeg with Kai, and the Harriers took him and Paul, or Holly as he was nicknamed for obvious reasons. I was thirty-two now… fourteen years in the making, but my affection, for want of a better word, for Holly got stronger with every interaction. I dated here and there when the mood struck me, but it always felt more like an obligation than something I wanted. I didn’t spark easily. With all three of my brothers now married, I sometimes wondered if I ever really would.
But then there was Holly.
It had started at the draft. He’d gone first round, the media darling of the event, and as a diehard hockey fan, I couldn’t help but be in awe of him—the boy the media had dubbed the savior of whichever team landed him.
From that moment, Holly became part of my world. At first, it was through Kai, given I was Kai’s best friend from small-town Vermont, and Holly was Kai’s best friend in the city. We shared the best friend title, and Holly became woven into my story through that.
Over time, though, things shifted. Holly wasn’t just the captain of the Harriers, the two-time Stanley Cup champions, the guy who’d led his team to back-to-back wins in his early twenties. He wasn’t only Kai’s best friend or the player who pulled in millions while dazzling the media with his bright grin and quick charm. He was… Holly. A guy who winked at me across the ice the second time he lifted the Cup, handed it off to Kai, and celebrated with a laugh that echoed in my chest long after the moment had passed.
Maybe the wink had been for me. Perhaps it had been for the whole family, sitting behind the bench and cheering for the team. But something had sparked that day, and I hadn’t been able to let it go since.
It never became anything tangible, not really. A few moments of gentle flirting here and there, nothing more than teasing smiles and stray glances that confused me about what they meant—if they meant anything. But it was enough to plant the seed, to make me start noticing things about him I’d never noticed about anyone else. The way he carried himself was confident but never cocky. The way his laugh could light up a room. He seemed to draw people into his orbit effortlessly as though he was the center of some unseen source of gravity.
And now, here at the wedding when I caught sight of him across the crowd, laughing at something Duncan had said, my heart leaped. It didn’t make sense. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about someone like Holly—a star so bright he seemed untouchable. But somehow, without me realizing it, I’d been drawn in, caught in his orbit. And now, I wasn’t sure how to untangle myself, or if I even wanted to.
But the man who’d come to the wedding wasn’t the same Holly I’d slowly fallen for. He’d still winked, flirted, laughed, teased Kai, and hugged Bailey, but there was something off in him.
Broken. Remote.
Was I the only one who could see it?
“Great wedding!” he’d shouted in my ear, already halfway to sloppy drunk, leaning on me, then moving on before I could answer, loud and showboating and grabbing everyone around him for a laugh. He was as smooth as ever in his Armani suit, polished to perfection, all show, and not much more, so where was the real Paul Hollister who made my heart skip and my cock go hard?
“What’s going on with Holly?”
I’d been asked the same question by way too many people, as if I was the knowledge keeper of all things Holly. Callum was confused when Holly swept Brooke from his arms and dipped her so low they ended up on the floor. Then Duncan told me Holly had scared some of the kids by making lion noises from the bushes. Finally, Mom asked me to help when Holly tried to limbo under the cake table, nearly causing the whole thing to fall.
I was the best man to Kai, not a watchdog for a drunken idiot, but still, I followed him at a distance.
“Always next to me, sexy!” he shouted at me again, then yanked me onto the dance floor as though he were possessed. I managed to wrangle him so we ended up at the edge of the room, far enough away from the bar that he couldn’t get another drink.
“What is wrong with you!” I whispered for his ears only. “Calm the fuck down!”
He laughed at me, then I couldn’t hold onto the slippery sucker, and he was away faster than the fastest fast thing.
By the time they’d cut the cake, which was still in one piece, Holly was already down several more glasses of champagne, laughing louder than anyone, avoiding me at all costs. I saw the stares he was getting. Some disapproval—how could he disrupt a cozy winter wedding? Some fondness—aww, he doesn’t do quiet or contained.
Holly was everywhere at once, larger than life. Except tonight, Mr. Entertainer’s laughter was too loud, his smiles forced, and it got so bad that Kai nodded at him and then me.
“Can you keep an eye on him?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he glanced over at Holly, who was now halfway through what had to be his fifth drink. “I’d do it myself, but—”
“No problem,” I replied. I got it. Today was Kai’s day, and Bailey deserved every second of his attention.
“Any idea why he’s like this?” I asked, watching Holly stumble toward the bar again.
Kai shrugged. “Team’s not doing so well.”
“Right. The fate of the world,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Holly captained his team as if it were a matter of life or death, and I understood why he’d be upset with a few losses—well, a lot of losses. It took many zero points to be three points from the bottom of the league.
But to act out as if his whole world was falling apart because of them…
I went to the bar where Holly was ordering another drink. “I think you’re good for now,” I told him, reaching out to steady him when he swayed.
Holly turned, eyebrows lifted. “Lucas! Sexy man!” He slung an arm around my shoulders, and I could smell the sharp tang of whiskey on his breath. “Here to join the party?”
“Here to make sure you don’t ruin the party,” I said, peeling his arm off me. “How much have you had?”
“Not enough,” he grinned, a hard edge to his voice.
“Well, stop,” I said, nodding toward Kai and Bailey. “Remember them?”
Holly’s gaze softened momentarily, and he seemed to remember where he was. “Yeah. I’m happy for them. Just wish…” He shook his head, turning away.
“Wish what?” I asked before I couldn’t stop myself from stepping around him so I could meet his dark brown eyes.
My breath hitched at the emotion I saw there, and I wanted to hug him so badly. I was the guy who was always content on his own. The guy who watched friends fall in and out of love while he focused on work, family, and a handful of friendships that didn’t come with strings or expectations.
But here I was, staring at Paul Hollister, wondering why, tonight, when he was acting like an asshole, I was still there with this tug in my chest.
“Wish what, Holly?” I asked again, hearing the softness in my voice.
He blinked at me, his gaze sharp for someone with too much liquor in him. “Nothing.” He gestured to the dance floor, where many people had started swaying to some Christmas tune. “Let’s dance,” he said, his tone half challenge, half plea.
I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t dance.”
“Then hold my drink,” he said, thrusting his near-empty glass at me before staggering toward the middle of the dance floor.
I stood there awkwardly, holding his drink as he stumbled and spun, coaxing laughter from people around him, grabbing the hands of strangers and putting on a show.
“You can sit down, you know,” I muttered when he made his way back for a refill, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, a grin plastered across his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sit? At a wedding?” he scoffed, grabbing his drink and taking a long sip. “What are you, ninety?”
“You don’t have to keep up the act, you know,” I said, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them.
For a moment, his smile dropped, and his eyes met mine, searching. Then he laughed. “What act?”
“You tell me,” I replied, my voice low.
He opened his mouth as if he were about to answer, but then he just shook his head. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.”
His bravado kept slipping, showing these quick flashes of vulnerability before he covered it up with another laugh. Or perhaps it was that, for once, I wanted to share that vulnerability, and I don’t know… fix it?
He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. “Why do you care?” His voice was rough, almost accusing.
“Good question,” I muttered. Because I didn’t know. I didn’t know why his ridiculous act, half-sober smirk, or stupid laugh didn’t stop me from feeling the pull toward him.
“You don’t know me, Lucas,” he said, his voice a low rasp, his eyes bright with emotion. “And trust me, you don’t want to.”
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. “But here I am.” I shrugged, though my chest felt tight with something I didn’t recognize.
Holly’s expression softened. He opened his mouth, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might say something real. But then he smirked, taking another swig of his drink. “Your funeral, buddy.”
As he walked back onto the dance floor, his laughter ringing out, I watched him, a familiar ache gripping my chest. Not for the first time in my life, I wanted to understand this pull toward another person—this urge to hug him, hold him close, and make things better.
And it scared me.
Wintering with George by Mary Calmes
ONE
It was a mistake.
From the jump, I should have said no.
The first year we were together, I wasn’t ready, and I had assured him, no worries. You go ahead with your plans for the holidays. Go see your sister and her family in Portland. Take the dogs. I would be fine. My little black cat and I could do Christmas alone. And it would be good. Beelzebub—Bubs, for short—and I would be just great.
Kurt Butler, the man I was crazy about, laughed at me, then took my face in his hands and kissed me until I couldn’t think about anything but getting him into bed. “No, baby. I would never leave you.”
I loved that he put me first. It said a lot.
It didn’t end up mattering, though, because right before Christmas, I was deployed. So he took the dogs and my cat to Portland with him because clearly, he was a glutton for punishment. I told him he could leave Bubs and I’d send Hannah, my minion, over to watch him, but he wasn’t having that. He took the demon with him because he loved my stupid cat too.
So this year, there was no question. Of course I would go. I had to go even if it was going to give me hives. I had to go even if just thinking about it was making me nauseous. I really hoped that whatever I did, or whatever way I acted, wouldn’t be the end of us.
That was what scared me the most. I didn’t want to push him away, but I feared that him seeing me through the lens of his family would only be bad for me.
Family.
The hell did I know about family? The closest I ever came were the guys in my unit. It was why I was still a reservist. I would not, could not, let them go into combat situations without me. And I wasn’t the best at my job, but I was better than others I currently knew would take my place if I took myself off the board. The difference being, the men I went into life-and-death situations with knew and trusted me. Kurt’s family didn’t know me, and the worst thing I could think of was that they’d find me lacking. The problem was, there were more things wrong with me than right, and I could own that.
I didn’t share easily. I had to trust you before I gave up anything remotely close to my heart. I could be stoically quiet for no good reason other than I had nothing substantive to add to a conversation, and I wasn’t great about change. Like, at all. And while those things didn’t sound so horrible in my head when I listed them, in real life, not talking, not sharing anecdotes or wanting to “go with the flow” were not great things to be. I was not an easy person to love, but Kurt hadn’t noticed yet. He didn’t see my many flaws. What if being with the people who loved him opened his eyes? Suddenly he’d realize I wasn’t much of a catch. I couldn’t have that. My only recourse was to make sure they adored me. The inherent problem there being that whatever the opposite of a people person was, that was me.
“Stop worrying,” Kurt told me over the phone. “My sister’s going to love you.”
I scoffed. “Why would I be worried?”
He chuckled, not buying it at all. “I adore you, and so will my family.”
The thing was, when he used that word—family—I wanted to be what he thought of first. And that was ridiculous. How was he supposed to know that when I’d never said anything like that to him? Ever.
This was what came from being a total shit at communication.
Kurt’s sister, Thomasin—a name I’d never heard before in my life—and her husband and two kids were the only real family Kurt had. Their mother had walked out on them when Kurt was seven and Thomasin five, leaving them with an abusive, alcoholic father. Now, as an adult, Kurt understood why she had to leave—or said he did—but at the time, the abandonment cut deep. He and his sister navigated violence and uncertainty for years until Kurt got a job at fifteen at a grocery store, stocking on the overnight shift. Thomasin was allowed to stay in the manager’s office while he worked. She got snacks, could sleep on the couch, and most importantly, it was warm and safe. When she was old enough, she got a job there as well, and the two of them got a miracle when Kurt was a junior and his boss helped him file paperwork to become an emancipated minor. Then at eighteen, Kurt received a full ride to Emerson College in Texas, and Thomasin got a scholarship to finish her high school at a boarding school in New York. It changed the lives of the two St. Paul, Minnesota, teenagers, and they both made the best of their opportunities.
In Texas, Kurt smoked a lot of weed, slept with a lot of girls, talked to his little sister every Saturday, and brought her to live with him each summer in the house he shared with his roommate. Along the way, after an unrequited crush on a friend opened his eyes to the fact that he was bisexual, Kurt got to sleep with even more people. He enjoyed that quite a bit. He always said he was an aimless whore in college, but he took care of his sister, so I always stuck up for his younger self. When Thomasin got a full ride to Brown, no one was prouder than Kurt.
Now, his sister was a celebrity life coach, had one of the top podcasts in the country, and had three bestselling books to her name that told people how to overcome demons. Not the fire-and-brimstone kind, but personal ones that stunted growth, triggered pain and depression, kept you from goals, and lied to you about your own value. I thought it was all stupid, and because I’d promised never to lie to Kurt, I said nothing. Better to keep my feelings to myself.
With Thomasin becoming wildly successful and Kurt himself an in-demand psychiatrist, both had enough money to fund their dream homes. For Kurt, it was an open-concept, airy-but-cozy, three-bedroom, two-bathroom house with lots of windows on a beautiful, secluded street in Chicago, where his backyard backed up to a nature preserve. For Thomasin, it was a mansion with spectacular mountain views down a private drive in Portland, Oregon. The place had five bedrooms and six bathrooms, so there was more than enough room for us to spend our holidays there. No Airbnb needed.
We had plans to fly out together on a chartered plane, with his two dogs and my cat—the jet being yet another perk their wealth afforded them. But then I was deployed after Thanksgiving.
Kurt was miserable, thinking we were having a repeat of the year prior. I had just gotten back in mid-October from a short stint, so the fact that I was going again so soon was a surprise.
“I do like my alone time,” he told me the night before as he watched me pack with hungry eyes, “but this is getting ridiculous.”
Having been briefed on the op, I assured him I would be home for the holidays.
He didn’t look convinced, and really, there was nothing I could say to convince him. The mission was classified. I couldn’t share that my unit was off to extract a Polish journalist working in Belarus, who’d been illegally detained. If I had told him, Kurt—who was a smart man—would’ve known we had no right to be in Minsk. He’d be terrified for me and rightly so. A Black Ops team was not supposed to be there, and if caught, we were all dead. It was one of those times where if we were captured, our government would deny any knowledge of us and claim we were mercenaries and acting on our own, perhaps hired by the family of the reporter we were there to save. If I had related a word of what I knew, Kurt would have begged me not to go. But I had no choice. My team needed me, and I would not, under any circumstances, have him worry while I was gone. So I did the only thing I could, which was assure him my op would be a quick one.
Technically, that part was true. On paper, it was a simple extraction. Pick up target, get target out of country. Snatch and grab that I could do in my sleep. Of course, our intel was for shit, everything from the maps to the checkpoints were compromised, and only because I had my own network and knew some good people in Lubelskie, which was where we crossed into Poland, did we make it out. The thing was, it took longer than it was supposed to, three weeks in total. Kurt ended up having to fly out without me.
But now, getting off the plane in Portland two days before Christmas, from how excited he was on the phone the night before, I knew I’d made him happy. It was all that mattered.
As Poznan, where I’d flown out of, was nine hours ahead, by the time I was walking through the terminal toward the arrival area, I was dead on my feet. The thing was, I’d had to get a military transport out of Poznan to New York, and when you flew that way, you caught whatever flight was available. It was their timetable, not yours. I really wanted to make a good impression on his family, but I was both sleep-deprived and starving, not at all a winning combination.
As I had no luggage, just my Army duffel, I headed toward where it said ground transport was and called Kurt.
“Hey,” he greeted me, answering on the second ring. “We parked, and we’re on the way to baggage claim to meet you.”
First off, we? I hadn’t slept in four days, I was bruised—nothing broken though it felt like it—and with no food, greeting others was a mistake. Of course, since this was the first time I’d spoken to him, other than the quick I’m on my way when I called earlier, there was no way for him to know I wasn’t ready for a meet-and-greet. But what annoyed me was that he knew better. He knew me. And he certainly understood that when I’d just gotten off a plane after a mission was not the time for introductions of any kind.
“Well, I’m headed to where all the taxis are because I don’t have anything but my duffel, so there’s no baggage to get.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he groaned. “Crap.”
Immediately, I felt bad because Kurt running himself down, for any reason, bothered me. He was such a kind man, and I told him that often. “It’s fine. I’ll wait inside. Just come back up the stairs; I’ll be right there.”
“Okay, perfect,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t wait to see you.”
I wished I looked a bit better, but I was in my ACUs, my Army Combat Uniform, and my field jacket that was not as clean as I would have liked it to be. Seemed like good first impressions were out the window, and I felt bad about that. I hoped they weren’t huggers either, because yes, I’d been medically cleared at the base in Poznan once the op was done, but I had fresh stitches and bruises. Being squeezed, by anyone but Kurt, could be uncomfortable.
Standing there, waiting, I thought of all the times no one had been there to get me, and reminded myself that this was a blessing, having someone like Kurt in my life, someone who showed up. I had to stop being a prick, being selfish, just thinking about myself. And I could. I would. Because he was worth it.
“George!”
Turning, I saw Kurt rushing through the crowd—or trying to, with so many people blocking his way. He stopped moving, lifted his finger to signal for me to wait a moment, and then finally threw up his arms in frustration. I couldn’t help smiling. The second there was an opening in the crowd, he bolted toward me.
It hurt a little when he collided with me, but it was worth it to feel his warm, muscular frame wedged close, his lips on the side of my neck, then my cheek, and finally, his mouth on mine as he kissed me once and then again.
“You missed me,” I whispered against his mouth when he leaned back with a whimper. Clearly, he wanted to go right on kissing me.
“I always miss you,” he replied hoarsely. “Are you hurt?”
“Do I look hurt?”
“It’s hard to tell,” he said before kissing me again.
“Let the man breathe, K,” a woman said with a laugh. She was a stunning blonde with the same gunmetal-gray eyes her brother had.
“Breathing isn’t necessary,” he assured her. “George, this is my sister, Thomasin, but you can call her Sin.”
Her smile was big as she stepped in close and offered me her hand. “Please don’t call me Sin. Thom is great, or Tommy as my friends do.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” I said softly, shaking her hand.
“This is my husband, Brad.” She let go of my hand so her handsome husband, who looked like the investment banker he was, leaned in to shake.
He was wearing a puffer vest, and so was she. They looked adorable, like they belonged in Town & Country Magazine, both crisp and polished, she in her brushed-leather Prada loafers, he in his Ferragamo driving ones. And as a rule, I didn’t know one pair of shoes from another, but Kurt was a brand-conscious guy and was slowly adding to my wardrobe from the shoes up. I now had both of those in my own closet and so recognized them. He liked me to have nice things, and I appreciated that. I’d been wary at first, thinking he needed a far richer partner than me, but it came down to him loving spoiling me, and that was all. But his sister and her husband were definitely in a different tax bracket than me, and it was more than evident in everything, from their shoes to his massive watch to her jewelry—an enormous diamond ring and several gold and precious-stone bracelets on her wrist. Neither was shopping at Target with me, that’s for sure. And that wasn’t a judgment, just an observation. And because of how those things would have sounded if I said them out loud, as a rule I made comments like that to very few people. Kurt and I weren’t there yet, even after two years. I didn’t want to lose him, so I was careful about everything I said.
But I shouldn’t have been, and I knew that. Beyond not saying anything unkind, I should have been able to speak my mind about anything I was thinking, especially since Kurt truly wanted to know. He wanted to learn everything about me.
“I worry about that,” I told him once.
“What?”
“Me telling you what’s in my head.”
“Why?”
Hard to explain that I worried about the fact that how I saw things wasn’t how other people did. And if Kurt and I weren’t aligned, was that it for us? Would he throw me away? “What if you disagree with me, or worse, think I’m psychotic or something?”
He chuckled. “I see.”
“Don’t laugh. I worry about this. I’m desensitized to some things, and I know that. I might not react how you think I should, and what if that’s a deal breaker?”
He nodded. “Maybe let’s wait and worry about that when the time comes.”
But what would happen if that time came?
Fears like that, and others, kept me from just blurting out my thoughts. I could, and did, with the guys in my unit. I never worried they’d think I was wired wrong. It was the same with my boss in the private sector where I worked now. I didn’t worry that if I responded differently than expected, I’d be ridiculed or second-guessed. It never occurred to me that a disagreement could lead to dismissal.
But with Kurt, I could mess up, and that might be the end of us. If I said something about his sister or her kids that he disagreed with, I had no safety net. The best thing, the smart thing, was to simply be better than myself. Be Stepford George. Just smile and be agreeable.
“George, you must be exhausted,” Thomasin said, smiling. “We should get you home and get some food in you, then let you rest before the festivities begin.”
I didn’t react, which I was very proud of myself for, since, again, no food plus no sleep normally equaled no filter.
“Let’s go,” Kurt said, lacing his fingers with mine, tugging gently to get me moving.
The car we walked to, a white Lexus SUV, had all the bells and whistles and was comfortable inside.
“Sin made her world-famous pot roast for you,” Kurt informed me, “which is much better than mine.”
“I dunno,” I said, grinning at him. “Yours is pretty good.”
“Oh dear God,” he groaned, leaning in close, his fingers brushing over the side of my neck. “You have bruises all over—”
“It’s fine,” I soothed him.
His sigh was heavy. “Do you have stitches?”
My gaze met his. “Don’t make a big—”
“It is a big deal,” he stated, and I saw Brad, who was driving, look at me in the rearview mirror before Thomasin turned around in her seat.
“My understanding is that you’re a sniper?”
“Yes.”
“I suspect, then, that my brother wonders how you got hurt.”
“No,” Kurt snapped at her, which surprised me. “I know how. He has to go in just like everyone else, and there’s always hand-to-hand combat at some—” He took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “I would just like to know how many new stitches.”
I grinned at him. “I dunno, honey, but you can count ’em later.”
Kurt’s breath caught, and those expressive eyes of his went dark and liquid, pupils blown that quickly with lust.
Thomasin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, I wasn’t sure over what, but perhaps she wasn’t used to seeing her brother react physically to his partner.
Kurt watched me, eyes locked on my face as I lifted his hand, kissed the back of his knuckles, then lowered it back down to the seat, never once letting go of him.
“Everything is going to be fine,” I promised him.
From the way he was looking at me, he believed me.
A Happy Holiday by Frank W Butterfield
1198 Sacramento Street
San Francisco, Cal.
Monday, December 19, 1955
Half past 4 in the morning
"Do you have everything?"
I looked up at Carter from my side of the bed. I was leaning over and lacing my boots. "Gustav took care of it all. The trunk is down in the car."
Carter, my tall, muscled, ex-fireman of a husband was looking around the bedroom. "How cold do you think it will get?"
"I have no idea." I sat up and looked over at him. He was obviously nervous about something. It might have been about spending the next eight days cooped up in the middle of Nowhere, Vermont for a big family Christmas. Or it might have been about leaving our home on Nob Hill in San Francisco for the unforeseeable future. Or it might have been something as simple as the fact that he was worried about how cold it could be in a place as foreign to us both as Vermont. It might have even been all three.
While I was thinking about that he caught me watching him, so I grinned at him and said, "Carter Woodrow Wilson Jones, if you don't know what else to do, you could lace up these boots for me. I should have broken them in. The leather is stiff."
He nodded and knelt down in front of me. He yanked on the laces of the boot on my left foot. As he did, I could feel that odd sort of comfort which came from having my ankle and calf held tightly in place.
Over the previous week, we had spent a fair amount of time preparing for eight days in Vermont. We'd been buying clothes of all sorts that we didn't usually need in San Francisco: bulky sweaters, thick socks, heavy boots, mufflers, gloves, and warm overcoats. We'd finally decided to buy a couple of sets of flannel pajamas for sleeping in, along with robes to cover up with. Usually we slept in our BVDs or nothing. But with company coming and going, we thought it would be better to be covered up than not.
Somehow, Gustav had got everything packed into a single trunk. The night before, he and Carter had hauled it down to the Roadmaster in the garage so we would be ready to leave the house in time to be in the air by half past 5.
I owned a house in Vermont that I'd inherited from my mother. We'd only been there one time, and that was the previous March when I'd finally discovered that my mother didn't die in '29 as my father and I had long thought. After finding a cache of unopened letters that my mother, Alexandra, had written in the 30s, I had brought in some of our employees at Consolidated Security, our private investigation firm, to start digging into the past. What they found was that Zelda, the housekeeper my mother had hired in the late 20s, had been slowly poisoning her with arsenic. After a doctor mistakenly diagnosed her stomach problems as cancer, she had left by ship for Mexico to die overlooking the ocean. However, we discovered she had lived eighteen more years, including six in an old farmhouse in Grafton, Vermont, a small town in the south central part of the state.
While living there, my mother had met and fallen in love with the local deputy sheriff, a man by the name of Ed Richardson. Once we'd met Ed, the older man had embraced the two of us as if we were his own sons. I thought of Ed as my stepfather, even though the man had never married my mother.
In the previous July, and after knowing each other for only four months, Ed and Carter's mother, Louise, had announced their engagement. And, in October, the two had married at our house in San Francisco.
Just before the wedding, Ed had asked about the family spending Christmas in Grafton. My father and Lettie, my stepmother, had enthusiastically embraced the idea. Several other family members had been invited. My mother's house only had two bedrooms. All of the needed accommodations in Grafton had been arranged by Ed. And, last I'd heard, everyone finally had a place to sleep. The big gatherings, of course, would be at my mother's house.
So, on that third Monday in December, we were all getting up early in order to fly to Boston. There we would meet Ed's oldest son, Kenneth and his wife, Michelle. Ed's youngest son, Robert, was still not happy with his father's marriage and plainly didn't like Carter and me, so he was staying by himself at the small apartment he'd recently rented in Cambridge, just outside of Boston.
Carter took me by the hand. "You ready?"
I swallowed and nodded. I put my hand on the post of the big bed my grandfather had carved after the '06 earthquake and fire. I felt its solidity and, not for the first time, was grateful to my grandfather and the carpenters who built it. Thanks to them, it was solid enough to let Carter and me play around as much as we wanted without any fear that it would collapse.
I looked around the room, taking in the fireplace, the big Chesterfield, and glancing up at the hand-carved wood ceiling. I wondered if we would ever see any of them again.
Carter put his hand on my neck. He gently pushed me towards and through the bedroom door. As we moved down the hallway, I stopped next to the door to my childhood bedroom. It was ajar and, after switching on the light, I walked in. My eyes were immediately drawn to the table Carter had set up a few days earlier. I walked over and squatted down on my haunches to get a better look.
The table was covered with a set of wooden Prussian soldiers my father had once brought me from Germany. They were each six inches tall. The set came from an antiques store in Berlin. My father had bought the set in '32 while on a work trip.
I looked at the captain, handsome in his uniform, and gave him a mock salute. "You're in charge of the house now."
Carter walked over and squatted next to me. "They're so lifelike."
I sighed. "Yeah. That colonel from the Presidio told me that the officers are based on real people who fought during the Napoleonic wars."
Carter picked up one of the lieutenants and closely examined the carved face. "He's my favorite."
I smiled and said, "Better watch out, Chief. That other lieutenant is his lover."
Carter gingerly put the soldier back and, in a very serious voice, said, "My apologies, Lieutenant."
"Coffee, Mr. Nick?" That was Mrs. Kopek, our housekeeper. She and Mrs. Strakova, our cook, were both waiting for us in the kitchen. They were both bundled up in thick wool robes against the morning chill.
I nodded as she poured a cup and added two sugar cubes. After stirring slowly, she handed me the cup and asked, "When do you return from France?" I took a sip and shrugged. "We don't know."
"I am glad you leaving. No good for you be in jail like my Ivan was." That was her son. We called him Ike. He'd just been released from Soledad State Prison down south of Salinas after doing time for distribution of pornography.
I nodded in agreement. "But you'll come visit us, won't you?"
She wiped the counter with a towel and quietly replied, "Yes."
The way she answered made me realize she had no interest in going back to Europe. She was from Czechoslovakia and had left back in the 30s, before Germany annexed the country. Except for her accent, she was as American as anyone I knew.
I looked over at Mrs. Strakova, who was yawning while packing up a huge hamper of food for us. "What about you, Mrs. Strakova?" She shook her head. "I cannot go back to Paris. Too many bad memories."
I sighed and took a sip of my coffee.
"Was everyone up and waiting to see you off?" That was John Parker, Carter's cousin. We'd stopped at his apartment to pick up him and Roger Johnson, his lover, on the way to the airport.
Carter turned around in his seat and replied, "No. Only Mrs. Kopek and Mrs. Strakova were up. That's where the hamper came from."
In the big backseat, John sat on one side of the hamper while Roger sat on the other. We were only three blocks down Van Ness and he was already zonked out and leaning against the window.
Carter continued, "Last night, we told Gustav and Ferdinand to sleep in, along with Nora and Ida. We'll see them next week in Boston."
John sighed. "I still can't believe you're leaving. And I'm amazed that no one has said anything. Every morning, I open up the Examiner and expect to read something about Notorious Nick leaving the country. So far, so good."
In the rear-view mirror, I could see Roger stretch out his arms. He yawned and said, "So they all agreed to go?"
Carter nodded. "Yep. And, to be honest, I'm glad. Ferdinand's aunt lives in Paris."
John asked, "But I thought that lawyer kid was going with you too? He and his boyfriend. Isn't the boyfriend a frog?"
I laughed. "Jake is the lawyer. Did you ever meet Antoine?"
John shook his head and looked at me in the rear-view mirror. "No, why?"
Carter said, "He's my height and not quite as broad, but he's solid. More than you are. I've spent some time at the gym with him."
John grinned. "So, you're sayin' I should mind my Ps and Qs when Roger and I come visit you in April?"
Carter nodded. "Yeah. That would be smart. He's hard to read at first, but he's a real sweetheart. He's very good to Jake."
Roger asked, "How do they feel about going back so soon? Didn't they just get here? Didn't it take a long time for the boyfriend to get a visa?"
I replied, "I think they were relieved, to be honest. I was raised to believe that San Francisco is the center of the world, but it's nothing like Paris."
No one disagreed.
We were flying to Boston on our Lockheed Super Constellation, dubbed The Laconic Lumberjack. The front of the main cabin held twelve oversized seats. Leather benches lined both sides of the cabin just behind. Small tables bolted to the floor in front of the benches provided space to eat or work. A full galley sat in the center of the plane. In the rear of the ship were two smaller cabins, one with a set of Pullman-style lower and upper sleeping berths, the other with a full-sized bed and large bathroom, including a shower.
When we'd arrived at the small private terminal at the south end of the international airport, we'd found my father and Lettie already on board along with Carter's Aunt Velma, Marnie, and Alex.
Marnie was my secretary, the best a guy could ever have, as well as being my stepsister, Lettie being her mother. Marnie and Alex had been married for a year or so. I knew him from prep school and, now that we were all older, he was turning out to be a really good guy and a great husband to Marnie.
Once we were in the air, our pilot, Captain John Morris, emerged from the cockpit and walked up to me. Carter and I were sitting in the front row. He knelt down next to me and asked, "If you'd like, I can go over our flight path with everyone."
I nodded. "Sounds good."
He stood. "I'll get Christine"—she was our stewardess and his wife—"to gather everyone together in about thirty minutes. How do you like that big table in the back that Robert had put in?" Robert Evans managed all of my properties, including the airplanes. Since we were leaving the country, I'd handed that part of my business over to him. His first decision had been to install a big work table behind the galley. It was similar to the one in our—now his—smaller Constellation. There were five planes in the stable I'd handed over to Robert, including a Comet jet that was sitting in Ireland, being updated and retrofitted.
I smiled. "Looks good."
He nodded and stood. "I'll ask Christine to get everyone back there."
As we all gathered around the table, sipping coffee in the light of the pre-dawn twilight, Captain Morris rolled out a big map. He pointed to where we were right then, approaching Las Vegas from the northwest, and said, "There's a big storm over Wyoming, Colorado, and northern New Mexico,"—using his finger, he drew a big line through those states—"so we're headed down towards El Paso. We have to scoot around some of the Air Force bases in the area, so we'll fly parallel to the Mexico border from around Tucson until we pass over El Paso. From there, we'll angle north." He stopped and drew a line to Dallas. "Once we're there, we'll head towards a line that's a hundred miles south of St. Louis and then turn due east towards Cincinnati. We want to avoid the Great Lakes where they're socked in from Cleveland to Buffalo. After Cincinnati, we head towards Philadelphia. Then we turn northeast, flying over New York. We should land in Boston at around half past 6 in the evening, local time."
I said, "Thank you, Captain. It's always—"
Right then, I heard a strange metallic sound from the port side wing. Captain Morris quickly made his way over to the window just past the galley and looked out for a moment. Without saying anything, he ran forward to the cockpit.
Always calm, Christine said, "Let's all get seated quickly and fasten seat belts."
Following her instructions, we did just that. As soon as we were buckled in, the captain made an announcement over the loudspeaker.
"Sorry about that, folks. We had a misfire in the number two engine. But Captain Obregon just cycled her through and now she's back up and running. Let's stay seated for a few more minutes, just to be sure. I'll let you know when you can get back up again. Thanks."
Ice Palace Prince by Lacey Daize
Chapter 1 - Sean
~July~
“Knock-knock!” sing-songed a cheery voice.
I looked up from my computer to see my supervisor, Elaine, standing in my office door, a huge grin on her face.
I sat back in my chair. “Either the wicked witch was fired, or you’re here to tell me that I’ve got more work.”
She laughed, strode over and dropped into the guest chair on the opposite side of my desk. “The second.”
“Damn,” I sighed. “A man can hope.”
She shook her head—salt-and-pepper curls bouncing—with a chuckle. “I don’t know if any of us will live long enough to see her fired or forced into retirement. She’s been here longer than anybody else and seems to think her sole purpose is to make everybody miserable.”
I blew out a long breath. “Benefits of a government job, can’t be fired without cause.”
Elaine nodded. “And as HR manager, she knows exactly where the line is that keeps her on the safe side.”
“I’m just glad I only have to interact with her a couple times a year.”
“You and me both. Now… onto the reason I’m here.”
“Wait!” I said, holding up a hand. I glanced at the calendar. “Lemme guess…”
I scrubbed a hand down my face when I put two-and-two together. There was only one option: it was time to start the promos for the Valle Granja Ice Palace and Winter Village.
It also meant that she likely had other reasons for being there too. “No…”
Elaine laughed again. “Yep. It’s time.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Please tell me I’m just one of the coordinators this year.”
Please don’t ask me to play the prince. Please don’t ask me to play the prince.
“And why would we take away your key role?” she joked.
“Maybe because it’s time for somebody else to do it?”
“Oh no, this event was your idea, and everybody loves it. I think it’s only fair that you get to play the part of the prince for another few years.” She paused. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re not used to being in the public eye, not with all those debate and cheer competitions your teams won when you were in high school and college.”
“It really should go to somebody younger. I’m almost thirty!”
“So what?” she asked with a shrug. “You’re still single. Maybe this will land you a good alpha.”
“How would playing the prince get me an alpha? There’s no time to flirt when I’m that busy! Besides, there’s nothing special about me.”
“Oh hun, there’s always time to flirt. And you’re far more desirable than you give yourself credit for.”
I decided to ignore her second point. “You try flirting with anybody during the opening ceremonies. I can barely get in a few sentences before I’m pulled away to talk to somebody else.”
“Long enough! Give them a nice smile, bat your eyelashes a few times, and you’ll get the alphas falling all over you. That’s a promise.”
“You do know that most bosses would discourage flirting while on the job.”
“When have I ever been like most bosses?”
I groaned. “Point.”
She leaned forward. “Anyway, we’ve got to schedule a photo shoot for you so that the graphics department has time to get everything together. It’ll be time to start getting vendors soon, then the posters need to be out by the beginning of October.”
“You’re really going to make me do this?”
“What would the Ice Palace be without its prince?”
“Then get a new prince! Tie it to one of those scholarships we just got the funding for.”
She laughed and stood. “Too late! You’re it.”
I sighed and she headed towards the door.
I thought I was free when she poked her head back in. “Oh, by the way…”
“What now?”
“Jefferson Construction has offered to donate their time to building again this year.”
I swallowed. Hard. That meant…
She laughed. “I knew it!”
“Get out!” I yelled, throwing a pen at the door for emphasis.
She kept chuckling as she headed down the hall.
Of course Elaine noticed my crush. She wouldn’t say anything to anybody else, but she loved making people face their own truths, and mine was that I was majorly attracted to Lowell Jefferson.
Just thinking about his green eyes, dark hair, scruffy beard, and broad shoulders made my cock perk up. Unfortunately, I’d missed my chance when I didn’t chase him when he was the nerdy alpha in high school. There was no way a man that fine was still available.
Josh LanyonBestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called "the Agatha Christie of gay mystery."
Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Josh is married and they live in Southern California.Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Mary Calmes lives in Lexington, Kentucky, with her husband and two children and loves all the seasons except summer. She graduated from the University of the Pacific in Stockton, California, with a bachelor's degree in English literature. Due to the fact that it is English lit and not English grammar, do not ask her to point out a clause for you, as it will so not happen. She loves writing, becoming immersed in the process, and falling into the work. She can even tell you what her characters smell like. She loves buying books and going to conventions to meet her fans.
Frank W Butterfield
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
Lacey DaizeLacey lives in New Mexico with her four critters. She’s a Jill-of-all-trades by day, but loves writing in her spare time. She dabbles in a variety of pairings, but jumped feet-first into the deep end of omegaverse the first time she read it. She loves the play on social expectations and the different ways to express romance.
Josh Lanyon
EMAIL: josh.lanyon@sbcglobal.net
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Mary Calmes
BLOG / NEWSLETTER / FB FRIEND
AUDIOBOOKS / TANTOR / CHIRP
EMAIL: mmcalmes@hotmail.com
Frank W Butterfield
A Funny Thing Happened . . . by Josh Lanyon
A Christmas for Holly by RJ Scott
iTUNES / GENI US / SMASHWORDS
KOBO / WEBSITE / GOODREADS TBR
Wintering with George by Mary Calmes
A Happy Holiday by Frank W Butterfield
Ice Palace Prince by Lacey Daize
