Sunday, February 2, 2025
🎅🎄After Christmas Holiday Reads 2024🎄🎅
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Summary:
Once Upon a Holiday
One Bed, Two Best Friends.
Easton Beckett has always cherished the Christmas season, but this year, his parents are off to help his aunt in Wyoming, leaving him to celebrate alone. But his best friend, Weston Holt—his outgoing and popular opposite—has a surprise: tickets to an all-expense-paid Holiday Cruise he won through a local radio station.
Excitement builds as they leave for a week in the Caribbean, celebrating Christmas at sea and stopping in the Bahamas. Their adventure takes a turn, however, when they discover they’ve been assigned to the honeymoon suite. Easton is about to correct the misunderstanding when Weston convinces him to pretend they’re a couple.
As they navigate their week together, the tension between them grows palpable—each stolen glance and playful touch igniting a longing that neither dares to acknowledge. With only one bed and mounting emotions, both grapple with their feelings. As New Year’s Eve approaches, will they find the courage to admit their true feelings, or will fear keep them apart?
Once Upon A Holiday Vacation is part of a multi-author series, Once Upon A Holiday Story. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Hook's Book Nook Traveling Library, a library on wheels owned by two old ladies in love.
Original Review January 2024:
A truly delightful holiday read. Friends to lovers trope that hits you in all the feels of the season and romance. Easton and Weston(love the names BTW) have been buds forever and when Easton's family has to travel away for the holiday to help his aunt Weston steps in to bring cheer back to his friend's holiday.
The catch: playing a married couple on a holiday cruise. I want to scream "cute meet" but of course the guys have known each other far too long to be any kind of "meet" so lets go with "cute arrangement" course there is also part of me screaming "Danger, Will Robinson!" Because lets face it, this has the potential to be off the charts Hallmarky but could also completely flip to life-altering heartache. I think we all know which way it's going to go but I won't spoil the lads' journey getting from Point A to Point HEA😉.
Having read this while my mother was in hospital helped to bring a little holiday cheer to my soul at the time and for that I want to say a huge Thank You to Annabella Michaels. Since then my mom passed away so I don't think I'll be re-reading Once Upon a Holiday Vacation for awhile as it might bring back connected timeframe memories but the absolute joy I felt at the time of reading definitely has earned a spot in my re-reading shelf because you can't help but feel lighter and uplifted by Easton and Weston's story of discovering that sometimes the best thing is right in front of you.
Summary:
Opposites attract when doing a good deed brings two friends together for Christmas.
When Micah returns to town and volunteers to run Santa’s workshop, he never expects his brother’s best friend to be working alongside him. It seems the time apart has done nothing to kill the crush he’s always had on Nicholas, and he’ll need to learn to live with it. Showing up each day in his silly elf costume is going to be torture.
Back home for the holidays, Nicholas gets roped into assisting at the kid’s play center, but it turns out being Santa’s photographer has its perks. He loves spending time with Micah, whose Christmas spirit is infectious and does strange things to Nicholas’ heart. Not to mention those adorable leggings!
The festive season, two friends, two good deeds, and the gift of love.
Twinkling Elf is a low-angst gay Christmas story featuring opposites attract, brother’s best friend, a long-time crush, with sexy times and a sweet ending. It’s a stand-alone story filled with Christmas spirit. It was part of the 2022 Rainbow Advent Calendar.
Original Review January 2024:
Like the other After Xmas Holiday Reads this season, it was hard to concentrate as much as I normally do as my mother was in hospital at the time and has since passed away which makes reviewing a bit difficult at the moment. I'm not sure why I didn't read this back in 2023 but I got to it now and loved it. Everything about the story was such a delight. As much as I loved Micah and Nicholas, personally what really stood out was seeing the big brother give his blessing for his best friend to date his brother, too often authors use the friction between BFF and brother to interfere and create a roadblock but not in Twinkling Elf. Very refreshing. A sweet short novella that has the right blend of humor and heart that makes the reader smile, what more can you ask for?
Once Upon a Holiday Story
Chris Gardner has a good life in New Orleans. He owns a club in the French Quarter, has a wonderful crew of people who call it home, loyal, caring friends, and even gets his kid fix by helping to take care of his chef’s daughter. What he doesn’t have is that special someone to share his days and nights with. He thought he did, once upon a time, but that man left to find fame and fortune, became a rockstar, and never returned. And that’s fine. Life isn’t a fairy tale. Now if only he could find a band to play music in his club at night, that would be a Christmas miracle.
Dawson West had to leave to see if his dreams could become reality, but what he didn’t count on was that once he had the world at his feet, he’d miss the man who’d held him tight. Between the endless climb toward greatness and the pitfalls of addiction, Dawson lost himself for a while, but that doesn’t mean he stopped loving Chris. Not wanting his love to see him broken, he makes certain he’s clean and sober when he finally comes home. Going radio silent while becoming the man Chris deserves seemed like a good idea at the time, but now…
Now, Chris has a problem. Dawson is back, out of the blue, and if Chris lets him return to rocking his club, is that an invitation for his heart as well? How can Chris ever trust again, even if it is the season?
Once Upon A Christmas Song is a part of the multi-author series Once Upon A Holiday Story. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Hook’s Book Nook Traveling Library, a library on wheels owned by two old ladies in love.
Original Review January 2024:
Perhaps more than others I've read in the Once Upon a Holiday multi-author series, Mary Calmes' Christmas Song is less Xmassy and more happens at Xmas but in my mind that is all it takes to make a story perfect for the holidays.
Second chance romance can be hard to tell in novella form as some points can feel rushed but I think Calmes did an excellent job of balancing second chances and glimpses of Chris and Dawson's first go-around. In showing us those glimpses of the past we get to see what was "broken" which helps to understand the "healing" and that loving was never the issue which can help the reader understand the pace of reuniting that can occur in a novella.
I completely fell in love with both men as well as the supporting cast, you just want everyone to get their holiday Hallmarky HEA. I say "Hallmarky" but of the ones I've seen I think I would rate Chris and Dawnson's journey above nearly all of those Xmas movies. There is a lovely blend of humor, drama, friendship, reconnecting, stubbornness, and it is chock full of heart. Being a novella means it may be shorter on quantity than what second chance tales often have but it is full to overflowing with quality.
Summary:
In 1920s Cheltenham, Walter Webb has settled into a peacetime existence with relative ease. He's kept busy running the family grocer's shop with his father on Lower High Street, a working-class region of the famous Regency spa town. In his moments of leisure, he meets regularly with his ex-army pals that he served with in the Great War.
But being a respectable grocer means that Walter must keep his occasional liaisons with other men brief and anonymous. When he meets Stanley, the attractive and likeable brother of a customer, who is staying with his sister after a debilitating bout of pneumonia, Walter is tempted to throw caution to the winds on the chance of something more with this particular man.
Can these two men take a risk to find a lasting romance?
Original Review January 2024:
Such a lovely little story of finding happiness. It's hard for me to write a review for Season of Joy, not because I didn't like the story, quite the opposite. I was reading this new Ellie Thomas novella during the time my mother came home for hospice and passed away so I was reading it in small chunks here and there. On one hand that can make a story harder to connect to but on the other it gave me pockets of peace and escape, small pockets to be sure but definitely helped balance my emotions so I could deal with the arrangements and help my dad as well. I know this seems like an odd thing to mention in a book review but I wanted to express to the author how grateful I am for those pockets of peace and balance. Truth is I think bringing up the personal chaos and hurt I am dealing with and still be able to enjoy Walter and Stanley's journey speaks volumes to the amazing talent of the author and the power of the heart within the story. Definitely a warmhearted and winning gem in my mind.
Once Upon a Holiday Vacation by Annabella Michaels
CHAPTER ONE
EASTON
The keys jangledin my frozen fingers as I unlocked the library door, my breath puffing out in little clouds. I hurried inside, grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted me along with the familiar scent of books and pine.
As I made my way through the stacks, straightening a few volumes here and there, my mind drifted to Weston. I wondered if he was awake yet, probably not given he’d worked a late shift at the fire station the night before. The thought of his bed head and sleepy blue eyes made my heart flutter.
“Get it together, Easton,” I chided myself softly. “He's your best friend, nothing more.”
But oh, how I wished it could be more. I imagined his strong arms around me, those full, kissable lips brushing mine under the mistletoe. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the warmth of his body, smell his woodsy cologne.
With a sigh, I shook my head, dispelling the daydream. “Focus on work,” I muttered, moving to the circulation desk.
I busied myself with shelving returns, trying to lose myself in the familiar routine. But every book about love or friendship made me think of Weston, his laugh, his kindness, the way he always knew how to cheer me up.
I leaned against the shelf, letting my mind wander back to the day we met in kindergarten. It was the first day of school, and I was terrified, clutching my dinosaur lunchbox like a lifeline. That's when I saw him a whirlwind of blond hair and infectious laughter, running around the classroom like he owned the place.
“Hi! I'm Weston!” he'd declared, skidding to a stop in front of me. “Wanna be friends?”
I'd nodded shyly, and just like that, we were inseparable. East and West, as our teacher had jokingly called us when assigning seats. The nickname stuck, and so did our friendship.
As we grew, our differences became more apparent. I was the quiet bookworm, always with my nose in a novel, while he was the life of every party, excelling in sports and making friends effortlessly. But somehow, our bond only grew stronger.
He never let our different interests come between us. He'd drag me to football games, promising to take me to the bookstore afterward. And I'd coax him into movie marathons, bribing him with homemade cookies and the promise of choosing our next outdoor adventure.
The jingle of bells at the library entrance startled me from my brooding. I turned to see Laura bustling in, her cheeks rosy from the cold and her arms laden with a tray of steaming cups.
“Merry almost-Christmas, Easton!” she chirped, setting the tray on the circulation desk. “I come bearing liquid joy.”
I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “You're a lifesaver, Laura. Thanks.”
She handed me a mug of cocoa, eyeing the boxes strewn all over the counter and stacked on the floor under the desk. “So, how many new decorations did you end up buying? I swear this place gets more festive every year.”
I felt a blush creeping up my neck. “Just a few,” I mumbled, taking a sip to hide my embarrassment.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Uh-huh. And I bet you were humming carols the whole time, weren't you?”
“I was not,” I protested weakly, knowing full well she was right.
She laughed, nudging my shoulder. “Face it, my friend. You're a Christmas elf trapped in a librarian's body.”
I chuckled. “Guilty as charged, I suppose.”
As we sipped our cocoa, my gaze drifted to the window. Soft, fluffy snowflakes had begun to fall, dancing on the breeze before settling on the ground. The sight filled me with a bittersweet longing.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I murmured, more to myself than Laura.
She followed my gaze and nodded. “It really is. Got any big plans for the holidays?”
My heart gave a little flutter at the thought. “Just the usual. Spending time with my parents and Weston.”
“Ah, Weston,” Laura said knowingly. “Your favorite part of the season, I bet.”
I ducked my head, focusing intently on the drink in my hand. “He's my best friend,” I said softly. “Of course I'm looking forward to seeing him.”
As she moved away to start her work, I found myself lost in thought again. The holidays with Weston were always magical—movie marathons, baking disasters, snowball fights. For a few precious days, I could pretend that the warmth in his eyes meant something more.
I sighed, watching the snowflakes swirl. This year would be no different, I told myself firmly. I'd cherish every moment with him, even if it wasn't quite the way I longed for. After all, wasn't that what Christmas was about? Being grateful for what you have?
Still, as I turned back to my work, I couldn't quite silence the tiny voice in my heart whispering, “What if?”
The warm aroma of roasting chicken and herbs filled the kitchen as I diced vegetables, stealing glances at Weston. He was stirring a pot of gravy, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight made my heart skip a beat.
He looked up and grinned when he caught my stare. “Careful not to chop your finger along with those carrots,” he teased.
I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Just making sure you don't burn the gravy,” I quipped back, earning a playful eye roll.
Mom bustled in, patting both our shoulders. “What would I do without my two sous chefs?” she said fondly.
I watched as she fussed over Weston, showing him how to whisk the gravy just right and a familiar warmth spread through my chest. It wasn't just because of my feelings for my friend, but because of the beautiful bond my family had forged with him over the years.
I remembered the first time he had come over for dinner, back when we were in second grade. He'd been so quiet, his eyes wide as he took in our cozy kitchen, the laughter, the casual affection. It was such a stark contrast to his own home, where raised voices and the clinking of bottles were more common than family meals.
Weston’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Remember when we tried to make dinner that one Christmas?”
I groaned dramatically. “How could I forget? We nearly burned down the kitchen.”
“Hey, that was mostly your fault, bookworm.” He laughed. “You got distracted reading the cookbook.”
Our banter continued as we finished preparing the meal. It felt like home in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that I’d grown up there and everything to do with the people in it.
As we sat down to dinner, the familiar rhythm of conversation and laughter filled the air. Dad regaled us with tales from his latest project, while Mom shared gossip from her book club. Weston chimed in with stories from the firehouse, his eyes sparkling as he described a daring rescue.
I found myself watching him more than listening, mesmerized by the way his hands moved as he talked, the curve of his smile. When he caught my eye, I quickly looked away, focusing intently on my plate.
Mom cleared her throat. “Your father and I have some news,” she began, glancing at Dad.
I felt a flutter of nerves. “What kind of news?”
“Well,” Dad said, setting down his fork, “your Aunt Lily took a fall last week. She's broken her hip.” His brow furrowed with concern as he finished.
My heart sank. “Oh no, is she okay?”
Mom nodded. “She's out of the hospital now, but she needs some help while she recovers. So...” She paused, looking between Weston and me. “Your father and I have decided to spend Christmas in Wisconsin with her this year.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Christmas had always been our special family time. The thought of spending it without them felt wrong somehow.
I caught my best friend’s stare across the table, seeing my own mix of emotions reflected there. Despite the pang in my chest, his presence was comforting. At least I'd still have him, I thought. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be a total loss after all.
Weston's sea-blue eyes flickered with disappointment as they met mine, but in an instant, his expression shifted. A determined grin spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the light.
“Well, that's a bummer,” he said, his tone light despite the undercurrent of disappointment. “But hey, East, looks like we'll have to step up our game this year, huh? Maybe I can finally convince you to try that cliff diving Santa thing I've been talking about.”
I couldn't help but chuckle, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. “Nice try, West. My feet are staying firmly on the ground, thank you very much.”
Mom reached across the table, patting my hand. “We're so sorry, boys. We know how much you both look forward to our Christmas traditions.”
“It's not your fault, Mom,” I assured her, though my heart still felt heavy.
Dad nodded; his eyes warm. “We'll make it up to you when we get back. How about a big New Year's bash instead? We can invite the whole town if you want.”
Weston's eyes lit up at that. “Now you're talking! We could have a bonfire, maybe set up some of those extreme winter games I've been reading about...”
As he launched into an enthusiastic description of his plans, I found myself smiling despite my disappointment. Trust West to find the silver lining in any situation. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be what we'd planned, but with him by my side, I had a feeling it might turn out to be memorable in its own way.
As we cleared the table after dinner, Weston bumped his shoulder against mine. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “We're gonna make this the best Christmas ever, just you and me. I promise.”
My heart skipped a beat at his words. “Yeah?” I asked, hating how hopeful I sounded.
“Absolutely.” He grinned, flicking some soap suds at me. “We'll start new traditions. Maybe I'll even let you read me one of those boring classics you love so much.”
I gasped in mock offense, splashing him back. “Boring? I'll have you know that A Christmas Carol is a timeless masterpiece!”
Weston laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made my stomach flip. “Alright, alright. I'll give it a chance. But only if you promise to go sledding with me.”
I hesitated, thinking of the last time he'd convinced me to go sledding. We'd ended up in a snowbank, tangled together, his face inches from mine. The memory still made my cheeks flush.
“Deal,” I said finally, trying to ignore the way my heart raced at the thought.
As we finished the dishes, a comfortable silence fell between us. I couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way the soft kitchen light played across his features.
He was strong and lean, his muscles rippling beneath his fitted Henley as he dried the last of the dishes. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the toned body I knew lay underneath. His blond hair was tousled, as always, falling across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back.
The light caught on his lip ring, drawing my attention to his full, perfectly shaped lips. I quickly averted my gaze, only to find myself captivated by his sea-blue eyes. They were like the ocean after a storm—deep, intense, and ever-changing. Long lashes framed those mesmerizing eyes, casting shadows on his high cheekbones.
As he reached up to put away a glass, the neck of his shirt shifted slightly, revealing a sliver of tanned skin and the edge of the tattoo I knew was inked over his heart. I knew every detail of that tattoo, a black compass with the E and W in red ink. He'd gotten it on his eighteenth birthday, dragging me along to the tattoo parlor. “East and West,” he'd said with a grin. “So I'll always find my way back to you.”
The memory made my chest ache with longing. If only he knew how much those words meant to me, how often I'd replayed them in my mind.
“Hey!” His voice broke through my reverie. “Where'd you go just now?”
I blinked, realizing I'd been staring. “Oh, um, nowhere,” I stammered, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Just thinking about Christmas, I guess.”
His expression softened, a warm smile tugging at his lips. “It's gonna be great, East. I promise,” he said, his voice low and sincere. He stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeped through my sweater, making my skin tingle. “I know it's not what we planned,” he continued, “but maybe this is our chance to make some new memories. Just us.”
My heart raced at his words. “Just us.” The possibilities swirled in my mind, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “That sounds... nice.”
He tilted his head, a devilish smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “Nice? Come on, East. Do you trust me?”
I didn’t even have to think about my response. “Of course I do.”
“Good! Then leave all the planning to me. I promise this is going to be the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”
Twinkling Elf by Nic Starr
Chapter One
Christmas was a magical time of the year.
Micah loved every minute of the holiday season from the gift shopping, to the decorating, to the festivities. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he danced around his bedroom to the carol blasting from the speaker on top of the chest of drawers. He didn’t need the words of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” to make sure he had a good time—he had Christmas down pat and a great holiday season was guaranteed. Well, maybe not guaranteed, because having someone to share it with would be the icing on the cake, but he was determined not to let his single status ruin his plans, especially now he’d moved back to his hometown for a fresh start.
He put away the last of the clean clothes he’d been folding as the dulcet tones of Sam Smith transitioned to the Biebs singing about mistletoe. He smiled with satisfaction at the immaculate state of the room; laundry all done, fresh sheets on the bed, and not a speck of dust in sight thanks to the hour of dusting and vacuuming he’d put in earlier that day. His mom would be so proud after the “tidy house leads to tidy minds” speech she’d given earlier in the week when she’d popped around unannounced and seen the state of his small apartment. He supposed she had a point, as he’d definitely been slow to unpack and settle in. But Christmas provided excellent motivation—after all, he couldn’t decorate a place that looked like a bomb had hit. Now the apartment was spic and span and all ready for him to tackle the box of decorations his mom had dropped off during her visit. He took one last look at the neat row of clothes before shutting the closet door. Yep, a reward was definitely in order.
Still smiling, he headed to the kitchen to look for a snack and soon had cheese, fruit, and crackers laid out on the counter. The doorbell interrupted his food preparation. Damn! He popped a grape into his mouth and headed for the door. His face fell when he opened it.
“Chad. If you’re here to give me another one of your lectures—”
“Relax,” Chad said, pushing past. “I’m not here about that.”
Micah shut the door and followed him. “I told you I’m going to look for a job after Christmas. I’ve got enough to tide me over until the new year and it’s not like a lot of companies are advertising during the holiday season.”
“I know—Whoa!” Chad stopped and Micah ran into the back of him. “What happened here?” he asked, looking around the living room.
Micah rolled his eyes. He stepped around him and headed back to the kitchen. “I do have some housekeeping skills, you know.”
“I’m just glad to see you settling in.” Chad perched himself on a stool at the counter and reached for a grape. “Anyway, I’m here to ask a favor.”
“What is it?” Micah started cutting the cheddar into cubes. “It better not be anything that involves covering for your sorry ass again.” The last time he’d done a favor for his school teacher brother, he’d ended up coaching the under 10’s baseball team for half the season and team sports were definitely not his forte.
Chad chuckled. “Not this time. It’s actually more of a favor for Carol.”
“Carol? As in Carol Mathers?” Micah stopped chopping and looked up. Carol was the mom of Chad’s best friend, Nicholas. Nicholas, whose very name still had the power to send a wave of excitement through him.
Chad snagged a cube of cheese. “You know how she owns the kids’ play center at the mall and they do the Santa’s workshop thing each year?”
“Sure.” The Christmas-themed workshop was the place every kid in town went to get their obligatory yearly photo with Santa and tell him the contents of their gift list.
“Well, the last couple of years, Carol’s nephew has been the organizer. You know, the one to take the payments, corral the kids, hand out the photos, that sort of thing. However, this year he’s pissed off to Hawaii without any warning and she’s at her wit’s end.”
“You want me to run Santa’s workshop?”
“Yeah. It’s perfect, right? You love Christmas, you’re not working at the moment, and Carol is desperate. Plus, you won’t be doing it by yourself. There’s the photographer, and Santa, of course.”
“Ugh. I’m a graphic artist, not a child care worker,” Micah said.
“But Carol.” Chad made puppy dog eyes.
Micah frowned. “What if I had plans?”
“But Christmas.” Chad fluttered his eyes again. “Just think of all those cute little kids and how disappointed they’d be if they couldn’t sit on Santa’s knee and tell him all about what they wanted for Christmas.”
“You’re pulling the ‘do-it-for-the-kids’ card on me again?”
Chad grinned. “Only if it’s working. Is it working?”
Micah looked to the ceiling. “Heaven help me.” He turned back to his brother. “When do they need me to be there?”
Nicholas hurried through the mall, darting around shoppers who seemed determined to get in his way. C’mon people, spacial awareness! Although it wasn’t really surprising it was so busy given Christmas was only a few weeks away.
He took the direct route to the play center, coming to a halt as soon as the sign came in to view. Immediately outside the entrance, in a large area of the foyer, stood the fenced in area that was Santa’s Wonderland. Huge, decorated Christmas trees stood on either side of a wide, ornate, golden throne. A red carpet led to the throne, the sides of the pathway lined with thigh-high statues of reindeer interspersed with dancing elves. It was a riot of color and twinkling fairy lights and totally over the top—very much like his mom.
“Darling, you’re here.”
Nicholas turned at the sound of his mom’s voice. “Jeez, you’d think you haven’t seen me for months,” he said as she embraced him. The sleeves of her kaftan flapped as she enveloped him in a colorful hug.
She gripped his upper arms and stepped back to look at his face. “It feels like months, you naughty boy. You promised you’d visit more often.”
He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle. “I was here for Thanksgiving. And you’ve got me until the new year. I’m not expected back at the office until the second week of January, so that should make you happy.”
“I’m happy you’re here, but it would make me even happier to hear you’re moving home for good.”
“Mom, we’ve spoken about this before—”
She raised a hand to his cheek. “I know, darling, but you said your current job bored you, and I know how much you love landscape photography, and they say a change is as good as a holiday.”
“Mom—”
“Oh, let me dream.” She patted his cheek, bangles jingling. “Anyway, you’re here now, so let’s just enjoy our time together. What plans do you have? Are you and Chad still heading out to the State Park?”
“Yeah, we’re hoping to spend a few days at a cabin belonging to a friend of Chad’s.”
“It’ll be nice for you boys to get away. Forgive me for being selfish, but I’m glad it’s only for a few days.” She hooked her arm into his elbow, and they started toward the main doors of the play center. “While you’re here, I’m going to spoil my baby with some home-cooked meals. Unfortunately, it’s one of the busiest times of the year, so you’ll have to entertain yourself during the day.”
Nicholas patted his mom’s arm. “I’m sure I’ll find enough to do to keep me occupied. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, but secretly hoping she said no. To be honest, he was looking forward to the downtime away from the busy office and back-to-back assignments.
“Thank you, darling. If you’d asked yesterday, I would have said yes, but Chad came to the rescue. He’s asked someone to help with Santa’s workshop when it opens tomorrow, so crisis averted.”
“Doesn’t Danny usually work over the holidays doing that?”
“Oh, don’t get me started on Danny. Your cousin decided that sea and surf was more important than the job he’s done every Christmas since he was old enough to earn a wage.”
Nicholas laughed. “He’s probably had enough of all the ho ho ho. Give the kid a break.”
She flapped a hand. “Pfft. I’m not upset that he wants to do something else, however a bit of notice would have been nice. But that’s enough of my problems, you’re here for a vacation not to listen to me moan.”
They pushed through the doors of the play center to be greeted by the sound of carols piped through the large room and the shouts of excited kids. His mom greeted a few of the kids, obviously regulars, and she was clearly in her element. He smiled at her happiness, grateful she had her business to keep her occupied and happy.
Once Upon a Christmas Song by Mary Calmes
ONE
It was raining, and while I loved the sound of it and the way it made everything smell, and mostly how everything looked immediately after, all glistening and bright, it did have the effect of keeping many tourists inside until it stopped. That was no good for me. I needed people walking up and down the 500 block of Frenchmen Street where my place was, and popping in for a drink. We served prize-winning cocktails at La Belle Vie, thanks to my mixologists, Xola Bass and Darcy Lee, who had individually and together won several awards both locally and nationally.
The issue was, as good as the drinks were, along with our food—a Caribbean-Creole mix thanks to my award-winning chef, Georgine Joseph—without the live music we were famous for, bridal parties walking the Quarter wouldn’t pop in and stay until closing. People looking to dance, not simply stand and listen to jazz, wouldn’t stop and show off their moves for their dates and buy drink after drink. Early in the evening, there was a space between the stage and the tables where people mingled. That was when we had the soloists, the artists, those selling CDs and looking for their big break. Later in the evening, between ten and closing—which was at two in the morning Friday and Saturday night, midnight on weekdays—was when the house band went on, and the place filled up with a raucous crowd, and people sitting at tables could have someone in their lap at any moment. We were always packed, and the bulk of our money was made on beer and shots while people sang along to the music.
But on Monday a week ago, after closing at midnight, Jimmy Jake and the Polecats quit.
“Stupid name,” I muttered under my breath.
“Boss?” asked Conner Lee, Darcy’s little brother and one of my barbacks, as he walked by me with a tray of dirty glassware. “Did you say something?”
“No,” Xola replied, lifting the pass-through so he could walk behind the bar. “Your boss is simply lamenting our abandonment by Jimmy Jake and the lame-ass pieces of shit he calls a band.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Well, considering no one else wanted them and Chris was the only one to give them a chance—and they were, no question, mediocre at best—I can understand the sentiment.”
“It was the best thing that could have happened,” said Simone Howard, my manager, as she took a seat beside me at the bar. “We need to talk to that booking agent.”
I shook my head. “We’ve always had a house band.”
“It’s not a sustainable solution anymore,” she told me for the five hundredth time.
“But if you have someone new every night, how can you ever develop a following?”
Simone turned to look at Merle Jennings, my head server, who was stacking our latest alcohol shipment on the shelves above the bar. “Say something.”
“The house band is dead,” he reiterated his point from two days ago. “Xola’s right, Simone’s right, Pete’s right, everyone’s right when we all told you we don’t need something constant, we need something constantly evolving.”
“Oooh, that was good,” Darcy chimed in as she peeled oranges for garnish.
Merle winked at her.
“Any performers we get, much like Jimmy and his couldn’t-keep-the-beat cats—God, they sucked,” Darcy said with an eye roll, “will eventually get another gig because they all aspire to greatness. Jimmy certainly couldn’t stay here forever, and being the house band at whatever club they went to in Nashville will get them seen by a lot more people. It’s all about exposure. You know that.” She eyed me hard. “We live in the age of social media, and if you have someone spectacular, or in Jimmy’s case, mediocre but constant in his cover of other people’s songs, someone will come sniffing around.”
It was the same with my two bartenders and the two others they’d trained. People were always in the bar wanting to poach them, but I had the edge with my employees. The space I’d created was safe. And not just because I did things by the book. They all knew I would take care of them. From a 401(K) to health insurance that included vision and dental, to being available day or night, I’d found that once someone signed on with me, they didn’t leave for anything at the same level or lower. They left to go to school, to open their own place, to spread their wings, to fly. Even then, sometimes they flew away to look, to see, and then came right back home.
Darcy was offered an amazing opportunity at a nightclub in Dubai and another in New York. She’d weighed the pros and cons, even taken trips to see where she would be working, and came back disillusioned—and in the case of the trip to Manhattan, with pneumonia.
“It didn’t feel right,”she’d explained, hugging me. “It wasn’t here.”
I enjoyed everyone being invested in our success, which was why I never hired anyone, except the bands, without everyone weighing in. The last time I’d been in the market for a new server, before Elsa Wayne, the guy sitting at the bar waiting for me to interview him had told Xola he could score her Molly if she wanted. Pete Rosen, one of my two assistant managers, had reported that her eyes had narrowed instantly and she’d pointed at the door. Anyone who thought selling drugs at our place was a good idea was in for a surprise. No one was about to put our Yelp, Tripadvisor, Zagat, or World of Mouth ratings in jeopardy. We liked being on the best of lists for our city. Of course, our music scene was a big part of that.
“Boss?”
I looked up to find Merle squinting at me.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I was just thinking about Jimmy and the guys.”
“They’ll get paid more at the new place,” Merle reminded me.
“I know. I don’t begrudge them leaving. It’s just the timing.”
“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “If they could have waited just two weeks, that would have allowed you time to at least put feelers out. As it is now, right before Christmas, it’s gonna be hard to find someone to fill the spot.”
“So true,” I grumbled.
“What was the name of the band that was here last night?” Darcy asked, and when I looked at her, I was, as always, struck by her beauty. She was second-generation Chinese American, and instead of being anything like anyone else in her family—I’d seen pictures—she looked like a goth pixie. Both arms and her entire back were covered in gorgeous floral—poisonous flora—tattoos. Her ears, her nose, and her tongue were all pierced, and I had never seen her wear anything that wasn’t black. At the moment, she had a bustier over a peasant blouse, a black leather skirt, black tights, and knee-high motorcycle boots. When she wasn’t working, her boots were stilettos, but behind the bar, support for her feet was more important than fashion. And the boots laced up, so they were still cool-looking.
When her brother came out as gay and their parents couldn’t deal with that and stopped supporting him financially, Darcy moved the nineteen-year-old out to New Orleans, got him enrolled at LSU, and took over his support. Her one stipulation was he needed a job. She’d worked full-time and gone to school—her parents had the identical issue with her being bisexual—so he could do the same. I enjoyed having Conner at my bar because he was easygoing and smiled often, and it gave Darcy something else to do than worry about my love life.
“Boss?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking how pretty you are.”
Darcy gave me an indulgent smile. “You were zoning out is what you were doing,” she teased me. “But c’mon, what was the name of the band?”
I had to think. “Um, Cult of Meat?” I offered.
“No,” Xola said, reaching for the limes to start chopping them up for drinks. “I think it was Cult of Means.”
“Where are you guys getting cult?” Pete Rasmussen said, like we were all dumb, as he filled the ice bin, his arms like tree trunks, making the process quick and easy. “It was Cut of Meat.”
“It was Sweet Meat,” Elsa said, putting her tray on the counter. “I think they were going for the whole the-sweetest-meat-is-closest-to-the-bone saying, but that’s just weird.”
“Ewww.” Xola, who was vegan, gagged.
Getting out my phone, I looked at the name on my Excel spreadsheet. “It was Cut to the Meet,” I announced. “Like meeting someone.”
They were all looking at me like they’d smelled something bad.
“The fact that none of you knew their name tells me they sucked. Not memorable at all.”
“Oh, they were memorable,” Darcy assured me with a roll of her eyes.
“Just not in a good way,” Xola chimed in.
“Well…” Thad, my third bartender, grimaced. He was working the day shift for the rest of the week to learn more tips from Darcy and Xola. “I mean, it was wrong from the beginning, am I right?”
Lots of nodding from everyone.
Pete grunted. “A metal band on Frenchmen Street, boss? What were you thinking?”
All eyes on me.
“Something new?” I announced cheerfully.
Xola snorted, which was incongruous coming from a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a fairy tale. With her long black box braids with magenta highlights, and flawless deep-umber complexion with gold undertones, she was stop-you-in-your-tracks beautiful. When there were men at the bar who hadn’t seen her—they would be talking, not paying attention, and then she’d ask what they wanted in her husky voice—it was fun to watch them get caught in her amber stare. I enjoyed seeing men of all ages go mute. Small perks of the job.
Not that owning a venue like La Belle Vie wasn’t fun. I loved it. My dream had been to have a place in the Quarter, and I realized it at thirty-one. Now, at thirty-six, I thought there would be more to my life than work. I had always pictured someone with me. I had, in fact, pictured someone very specific before he blew town, seeking fame and fortune. And unlike our last band, he had quickly found both. But thinking about Dawson West was a mistake, and after all the time it took me to purge him from my system, I was not going back for anything. And more importantly, thinking about my lost love did nothing to fix my current problem. We really needed a band.
Later that night,as Shenandoah was onstage, I kept my head down and made sure not to make eye contact with anyone, catching up on my paperwork and cleaning projects.
“Really?”
I groaned and lifted my head, meeting the beautiful gray eyes of my manager, my second-in-charge, the woman I’d been smart enough to hire the moment she walked into my place five years ago, after I’d owned the club for two whole weeks. She’d glanced around, then caught my gaze.
“You need help,”she’d stated. “You’re trying to do too much.”
She was not wrong. Trying to be all things when I was a back-of-house guy, not the type to be front and center, had been a mistake. In Simone Howard, I found someone who was amazing with the public, which I was not. We had the perfect division of labor. She told me to think of work like a ship. I took care of the crew, made sure we had all the supplies we needed for the voyage, and she navigated and talked to the people in all the ports. I liked the metaphor. At the moment, though, I did not enjoy how I was being looked at.
“What?” I asked defensively.
She tipped her head slightly toward the playing band.
Groaning, I put my head down.
“Dazzle me,” she goaded.
“I thought, yanno, from the name, that they were probably a country band.”
“Mmmmm-hmmm.”
“I mean, how could a country band be bad?”
“Tomorrow,” she said, one eye closed because the yodeling was just a bit off-key and had, I suspected, run straight up her spinal column to her brain, “you will invite the very nice booking agent who dropped off her card last week, to lunch.”
“I’m cooking my lobster gumbo,” Georgine informed me, taking a seat on the barstool beside me. “That way we’ll impress her.”
“We have to do something,” Xola agreed, sliding in next to Simone, gesturing at the emptiness that was our club at the moment. “Because people cannot dance and drink and sin while being reminded of God.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“Now listen,” Simone began. “I love church, and as you know, I sing in the choir every Sunday morning, but this? This ain’t it.”
No argument there.
Season of Joy by Ellie Thomas
Shortly before closing time, Mrs. Harris entered the shop, accompanied by her numerous progeny. It was for good reason that Walter’s father referred to the junior members of the Harris family as “the holy terrors.”
If Dad had known they were coming, he would have delayed nipping out for five minutes.
Walter hid a grimace while keeping a close watch on the arrangements of piled tins, all too tempting an obstacle for small, unruly children.
The three older ones, used to being well-behaved at school, stood quietly enough by their mother as she approached the counter. To Walter’s relief, the two youngest, a boy and a girl, the rambunctious pair of twins, were not running riot but remained contained, each holding the hand of an unfamiliar man.
“I only popped in for a couple of tins of corned beef,” Mrs. Harris said chattily. “I thought I had some put by in the larder. Isn’t it strange how quickly food gets used up when you’ve another mouth to feed?” She smiled and continued, “My brother Stanley is staying with us while he recuperates.”
Walter gave a nod of acknowledgement as he selected the tins of canned meat. He was already aware of the newcomer to the tight-knit streets that comprised old Cheltenham.
Local shops were a mine of ready information. It was surprising what intimate details people revealed to shopkeepers or loudly speculated about to each other in the shop.
Mrs. Harris’ brother’s arrival from the village of Lydbrook in the Forest of Dean, her home before marriage, had inevitably caused a steady stream of gossip.
“He’s not quite right, so I’ve heard,” one lady said, tapping the side of her behatted head sententiously. Another more sympathetic soul had added, “The poor chap has had repeated bouts of pneumonia as a result of the Great War, so I believe.” A final tactless commenter declared, “You’d have thought he’d have got over that by now.”
That remark had caused Walter to grit his teeth and hold back a pithy retort.
Most civilians back in Blighty had no notion of the horrors of trench warfare, often affecting a man for the rest of his days. Walter was mostly grateful that civilians were spared those harrowing experiences, but such ignorance raised his hackles.
“There you are,” he gravely handed the tins to two of Mrs. Harris’ most responsible children.
“Can I help you with anything else?” he enquired politely, as though he wasn’t eager to see the back of the family before the twins wriggled free to wreak havoc.
“A jar of Hartley’s jam would come in handy. It’s Stanley’s favourite.”
She jerked her head towards her brother. Walter naturally glanced in the same direction. Contrary to his first assumptions, rather than clutching the twins to keep them under control, the infants seemed to be helping to hold the man upright.
He’s hardly a heavyweight, more of a bantam in boxing terms.
He wasn’t tall, perhaps a few inches shorter than Walter’s five feet eleven inches and far less robust in build. Walter could hear the slight rasp of his breath from across the shop, confirming that he must suffer with his lungs. His face was downturned, hidden by his cap.
“Strawberry or raspberry?”
Walter addressed Mrs. Harris, but her brother answered.
“Damson, if you have it.”
He looked up as he spoke. Walter blinked.
Blimey, he’s a looker.
He was fine featured, but still managed to be handsome rather than pretty. His large dark eyes were emphasised by his sallow, over-thin face and his lush mouth was accentuated by a pencil moustache. Like a home-grown Rudolph Valentino.
I am married to my high school sweetheart who let’s face it, is a saint for putting up with me all of these years. Together we have been blessed with two amazing children and one unbelievably cute German Shepherd. I am an obsessive reader who is a complete sucker for a good love story, but loves to feel a broad range of emotions throughout a book. I think real life is hard enough so my books offer twists and turns, but always with a happy ending.
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.
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.
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.
Annabella Michaels
Nic Starr
Mary Calmes
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Once Upon a Holiday Vacation by Annabella Michaels
Twinkling Elf by Nic Starr
Once Upon a Christmas Song by Mary Calmes
Season of Joy by Ellie Thomas
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