Summary:
Christmas Falls: Season 2 #1
I never saw this Christmas gift coming...
When my ex-wife lands in rehab, I get a surprise for the holidays. A 7-year-old girl who's got no place to go. I love my former stepdaughter like she's my own, but I have no idea how to give her everything she needs.
In a holiday-crazed town like Christmas Falls, it seems inevitable I'll let her down.
Unless I finally let go of my pride and accept help from the new director of the Holiday Hope Foundation. Mason West is eager to lend support however he can. And when I let him, he goes above and beyond.
For Charlie's sake. Not mine. Even if I maybe, kind of, wish that it was for me.
I've never been into men before, but Mason is so sweet, so giving, so...perfectly sized to snuggle in against my holiday sweater. Maybe if I can figure out what all this means, I can gain more than a daughter for the holidays.
Maybe I can keep the gift I’ve always wanted most—a family of my own.
Christmas Falls: Season 2 revisits a small town that thrives on enough holiday charm to rival any Hallmark movie. It's a multi-author M/M romance series.
Flake it Till You Make It by Beth Bolden
Summary:Christmas Falls: Season 2 #2
It's beginning to taste a lot like Christmas . . .
When Rocco Moretti gets the chance to buy a coffee shop in a small Illinois town, it feels like a miracle. And in true Christmas Falls tradition, Jolly Java is a holiday-flavored one.
He sets up shop and starts experimenting with recipes. The only problem? His changes go over like a piece of coal on Christmas morning. Instead of serving up cups of holiday cheer, he's getting a solid "bah humbug" vibe from the town.
He needs another miracle, stat.
Enter Deputy Mayor Taylor Hall.
With the town’s city manager retiring, Taylor is looking to make a leadership move, but his dream is melting because the city council still sees him as an outsider. He needs to prove he's in Christmas Falls to stay, and what better way than by getting a boyfriend?
Even a fake one.
Rocco needs the town's acceptance, so why not date the deputy mayor? Faking it till they make it will be a means to an end. That's all.
But sharing the holiday season wins over more than the town's hearts. With each date, each mistletoe kiss, and every steamy night in front of the fire, it wins over theirs as well.
Come Christmas morning, there's really only one miracle Rocco wants under his tree.
For the love they've been faking to become real.
Christmas Falls: Season 2 revisits a small town that thrives on enough holiday charm to rival any Hallmark movie. It's a multi-author M/M romance series.
Summary:
Christmas Falls: Season 2 #3
Leo Fenner needs a Christmas miracle …
Charmed by the small town, and weary of the big city dating scene, Leo moved to Christmas Falls in hopes of finding love like his college friend, Hayden.
Nick Morgan had the love of his life and lost her, but is determined to help others find their happily ever after with his matchmaking service.
His website needs work though, and Leo is just the man for the job.
The web developer signs up for Nick’s matchmaking service to get a feel for what the process is like, all while secretly hoping it’ll bring him the love of his dreams.
But as Nick and Leo work together, the sparks between them are impossible to ignore.
Too bad there’s a few little problems.
For one, Nick’s never fallen for a man before. And, oh yeah—those dates he’s planning for Leo? They’re supposed to be with other guys …
Christmas Falls: Season 2 revisits a small town that thrives on enough holiday charm to rival any Hallmark movie. It's a multi-author M/M romance series.
The Snuggle is Real by DJ Jamison
CHAPTER 1
Mason
Holy fuck.
The folks who hired me weren’t kidding when they said Christmas Falls went all out.
I gazed up at the towering Christmas tree strangled in strings of multi-colored bulbs awaiting the official flick of the switch at the treelighting ceremony tonight.
Even more impressive, though, was the number of people packed into this little park. When I’d interviewed for my position as director of the Holiday Hope Foundation, I’d laughed off warnings about how wild the season got.
“I’m from the Ozarks,” I’d said. “I know all about tourism.”
Truth be told, though, I’d lived in a smaller lake town, and even at the height of the summer season, it couldn’t compare to the absolute gaudy flair that was Christmas Falls.
All the streets had Christmas-themed names. So did the businesses. Jolly Java. Dancing Sugar Plums. Jingle Bites. The Snowflake Shack. The list went on and on. Even the dang airport was named Reindeer Runway.
And the decorations…well, they put the little roofline twinkly lights I used to install back home to shame. Large inflatables. Rooftop Santas. Flashing lights and animatronics.
These people went all out. And it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet!
I was awed by it. A little horrified. But a lot impressed.
“Mason!” Griffin Calloway called, waving me over.
I tore my gaze from the holiday spectacle, adjusted the box under my arm, and jogged across the park. Griff was the events coordinator for the massive festival the town thrived on. When he called, you dashed o’er the fucking fields to get to him.
As the new guy in town, I was still working to forge the connections I needed to expand my organization. Holiday Hope Foundation had grown out of a small grassroots effort that included a coat drive, an angel tree, and few odds and ends programs.
My job was to develop it into one cohesive mission. But that also meant raising awareness about some of the changes in the works.
Hence why I was here, wagging my tail for Griff. Well, that and he was a fine-looking man. Taken, sadly, by another fine-looking man. Both of them were solid tens. Me? I was a six. Seven on a spectacular hair day.
I was too damn short and thin to turn many heads. Unless they were concerned the wind was about to blow me away. Always a valid concern in Illinois in the winter.
“Hey, Griff. How’s it going?”
“Well, no bulbs have burned out yet this year, knock on wood.”
He rapped on the table…which was made of plastic. I wasn’t sure if that would bring good or bad luck, but I was glad I wasn’t in Griff’s shoes.
I placed my box of brochures and donation forms onto the table. “I take it this is where I set up?”
“Yeah. You’ll have to share the table with Marlene, our volunteer coordinator. Hope that works for you.”
“Sure, yeah.”
“Good, because you’re not getting anything else.” He winked playfully.
When I first arrived in town, Griff’s reputation preceded him. He was a strict taskmaster who tolerated no nonsense in his festival planning. I’d been nervous to ask him if the foundation could take a more active part in the festival, given that everyone said Griff was inflexible.
But either he’d mellowed a lot in the last year or people had vastly exaggerated. He’d been happy to fit me in.
“There’s the deputy mayor,” Griff said. “I’ve got to run!”
“O”—Griff was already gone—“kay.”
The deputy mayor, Taylor Hall, stood by the stage with—whoa, was that the star of Merry Me, Santa?
My eyeballs nearly fell out of my head as I stared at Heath Kelly, former soap actor, Hallmark heartthrob, and most exciting of all, the male lead in their last three queer-themed holiday movies.
Eeek!
“Are you okay, dear?”
I jolted out of an embarrassing fantasy that had recast me as Heath’s costar in a swoony kiss scene. “Uh, I was just…”
“Drooling over the movie star?” Marlene guessed with a chuckle. “I noticed.”
My face heated, and I turned my attention to unloading my box of supplies. I set up little plastic stands to better display copies of the brochures, donation forms, and applications for help.
Beside me, Marlene got busy with her own volunteer signup.
“I would think you’d already have all your volunteers by now,” I said.
“You would, wouldn’t you?” she said mildly. “But we always have a few last-minute scheduling conflicts. You can never have too many volunteers.”
I smiled. “That sounds about right.”
Soon, Marlene was inundated by friendly townspeople.
“Marlene! So good to see you. The tree looks gorgeous this year. I can’t wait to see it all lit up!”
“Hi, Marlene! Find me later. I’ve got some juicy gossip!”
“Marlene, don’t you just love how happy Griff looks this year? Gosh, he and Logan are adorable!”
I glanced across the park, and sure enough, Logan had wrapped his arms around Griff from behind and was whispering in his ear. Griff freaking glowed enough to compete with that tree once the lights came on.
I sighed wistfully. I was focusing on my career right now. I didn’t need a man. But I wouldn’t mind snuggling in against a broad chest now and again.
Marlene’s visitors took my brochures too, and soon half of them were gone. “Maybe they should have hired you to lead the nonprofit,” I joked. Marlene laughed. “Oh, honey, I’ve got quite enough on my plate already.”
A hush came over the audience, and the mayor stepped up to the microphone to introduce Heath Kelly.
“I’m so glad to finally be here with you all in Christmas Falls,” Heath said in his smoky smooth voice. “This is such a lovely way to start the season.”
There was cheering and applause.
“I know I’m pretty,” he joked, “but how about we light this tree and give you something really beautiful to see?”
“It’s unlikely to compare, but sure,” I muttered.
There was a deep, rusty chuckle near me. I whipped my head to the side, eyes widening at the mountain of a man who stood there.
“You’re a fan, huh?”
A fan of your broad chest? Yes, sir.
“Um.”
He pulled one hand out of the pocket of his thick flannel and waved it toward the stage. “The movie guy.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Yeah, he’s talented.”
The guy smirked. “Not sure his talent is what you really appreciate.”
Marlene piped up. “Don’t you give Mason a hard time. He’s a sweetheart.”
He held up his hands. “No hard time given. I don’t see the appeal myself, but I’m open-minded.” His gaze flicked to my brochures and away. “I’m just here to help with the cleanup after the event. Gotta get work where I can during the winter months.”
“Oh, do you need an application?” I asked, hopeful.
I wouldn’t mind an excuse to see this guy again. Even if he was obviously straight and uninterested.
“Nah,” he said. “I live alone. Not much need to squander your funds on me when you could help out a family.”
“Well, there’s no family requirement. If you need help, then you do.”
His dark eyes met mine. “I don’t need any help. I get by just fine.”
The tree blazed to life, capturing my attention as red, blue, and green lights flickered over the park and the crowd cheered.
When I glanced back, he was already walking away.
“Don’t mind Ford,” Marlene said. “He’s a proud man. Wants to take care of himself.”
“We all need a little help sometime,” I murmured.
“I couldn’t agree more.” A sweet guy I recognized from the new chocolate shop, Jingle Bites, brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes. “Can you tell me about how this foundation of yours works? I can help spread the word.”
“Hey, Milo. Thanks for stopping by.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
I launched into an explanation of our services—the traditional winter coats and hats, holiday meals, toy drives, and gifting programs, as well as my plan to incorporate more business sponsorships so we could serve the community with more flexibility.
“Perfect.” Milo scooped up a couple of brochures and donation forms. “I’ll just take these in case I run across anyone in need.”
Traffic to my table had slowed down once the Christmas tree lights came up. The hot cocoa and cookie stations were getting all the action now.
But my friend Elias, who worked at the animal shelter, came over.
“Hey, Mason. I didn’t know you were working a table tonight.”
I smiled. “Yep. I was just telling Milo about our programs.”
Elias cast Milo a distracted look. “Right, sorry for interrupting. Love those designer truffles you do.”
I agreed. “That Irish Coffee one is freaking life-changing!”
Milo lit up. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.” He cast a worried glance in Elias’s direction. “But are you okay? You look a little frazzled.”
Elias did look stressed.
“It’s been a rough few days,” Elias admitted. “We had a pipe burst at the shelter, and now we need repairs. There’s so many insurance headaches. And I’ve been so busy trying to get the pets fostered and out of there that I haven’t had the chance to find a contractor.”
He handed me a flier that advertised pop-up pet adoption events.
“Maybe I can help,” I said.
“You want to foster a dog? I thought you’d never ask.”
I laughed. “Uh, well, I was going to offer to take some of your fliers. If anyone else comes by, I’ll hand them out too.”
“I can take some too,” Milo offered.
“Thanks, guys. You’re the best.” He handed Milo a couple of fliers, then set a stack on my table. “But I’ll be in touch about that dog. You’ve got that big old house, and you’re all alone. You need a new friend for the holidays.”
“I thought you discouraged pets as holiday gifts.”
“Oh, I do,” Elias said. “This dog won’t be a gift. He or she will be your Christmas Falls family.”
The house had felt empty, especially as the holiday season approached and I knew my own family would remain out of reach.
“Fine,” I said, “but only to foster over the holidays, okay? Not permanently.”
He chuckled. “Oh, that’s how it starts. Soon, you’ll be begging to keep your little fur baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that. But hey, maybe you can get Milo to adopt one.”
Elias turned to ask Milo, but he’d wandered off sometime while we were talking.
“Damn, he got away,” Elias muttered.
I laughed. “Find me after the event wraps up and we’ll grab a beer. You need to relax.”
“It’s good advice,” Marlene said. “You boys are too wound up. Things always work out in Christmas Falls. It’s a magical season.”
We exchanged a dubious look. The season always seemed magical to people, but they didn’t see what went on behind the scenes at agencies like ours.
We didn’t just magic up donations and services. It took dedication and hard work.
That’s why the foundation had hired me to be their first full-time director. It’s why they wanted to strengthen their mission and fundraising.
People needed hope, and we had to find a way to deliver it.
I thought of Ford, who’d so quickly dismissed himself as worthy of aid. I thought of the stack of applications back in my office, some of which we might not be able to fulfill.
If only we could help everyone. That would be a real miracle.
Flake it Till You Make It by Beth Bolden
Chapter 1
“I can’t believe this,” Rocco said incredulously, partly to Rebecca, the employee he’d inherited from Holly and Joelle, who’d owned Jolly Java before he’d bought it from them, and partly to himself.
Rebecca shot him a frank look. “It’s been this empty in the afternoons for a week,” she said. The one thing he could say about Rebecca was she could make a mean latte and she was unflinchingly honest. Okay, that was two things. Two whole things! Rocco gave a weak cheer, and she sent him another one of those questioning looks as she cleaned the tables scattered through the little coffee shop. It was quaint. It was old-fashioned.
When Rocco had taken it over maybe it had been a little too quaint, maybe a little too old-fashioned. He’d spruced up the interior. Painted the walls a modern coffee-with-a-hint-of-cream brown, with darker espresso trim. New tables and chairs.
He’d modernized the equipment. The logo. He’d changed out the beans the owners had been buying for years for a higher quality Italian brand. Stopped buying baked goods from Joel at Ginger’s Breads Bakery, putting out a full gourmet spread of pastries that he baked in the back kitchen. He’d put his stamp on it, the Rocco Moretti stamp. And since Morettis were scattered across the whole US now, spreading their culinary magic, he’d thought that would be a welcome stamp.
His first realization that maybe he’d made a misstep was when four customers complained the day he debuted his special fall drink. Not the pumpkin spice latte, like the original Jolly Java had been famous for, but a new creation he’d come up with, a marzipan latte that apparently nobody wanted. Pumpkin spice! Like Rocco would ever be that freaking basic.
It was disappointing and frustrating, but Rocco had still been sure these were just growing pains.
Everyone said the tourist season, when Christmas Falls hosted its huge holiday themed festival, was crazy, and he’d be packed.
And he did have customers. A steady enough stream of tourists in the mornings, but most locals had abandoned him and Jolly Java. After ten AM, the place was deader than a doornail. He’d never even gotten a chance to implement his new lunch menu.
Instead of a cozy cafe full of regulars whom Rocco knew by name and by order, he had a lot of tourists he saw maybe once or twice, and a few Christmas Falls residents who didn’t visit with the regularity Holly and Joelle had described.
It was not the community-forward, familial atmosphere he’d hoped for when he’d taken every penny he’d earned from fourteen to twenty-eight and bought this place.
Rocco slumped down to the front counter.
He’d been so sure he’d win over the town with good Italian cappuccino and his delicious pastries.
But instead, the majority of them had started going to Ginger’s Breads, even being willing to trade his high-quality espresso for the free self-service coffee Joel served with his baked goods.
Rocco had been in the line in the grocery store just the other day and had gotten to listen to one woman complaining to the other about the changes—and how she’d started saving a bundle by not getting her oat milk latte every morning.
“I told you,” Rebecca said as she approached the counter, where Rocco was gently banging his head against the reclaimed wood. That he hadn’t needed to replace, because the coffee bar itself, stretching across one side of Jolly Java, was gorgeous.
“I took the turmeric and goat cheese scone off the menu! I added pumpkin spice back on,” Rocco argued. The scone had been a stretch, and he’d known it, but he’d also envisioned a future where the townspeople of Christmas Falls had been willing to have Rocco expand their palates.
“Yeah, you gotta win them back somehow,” Rebecca said, sympathetically.
Her empathy, while kind, felt like poison in his gut.
What if he failed . . .no, that was not even an option. Morettis didn’t fail. Especially not in any kind of food-related business.
His grandmother, whom everyone called Nonna, had started a famous chain of Italian restaurants in the Napa Valley, restaurants that his cousin Luca now ran with an expert hand, along with his six other siblings. Luca also owned a gourmet bistro in the tiny town of Indigo Bay, South Carolina, with his husband, Oliver, and tourists came to town just to eat there. Dante and Beatrice, his parents, ran their own little jewel of an Italian restaurant in the hills of San Francisco, and it regularly made lists of “Best Italian in the City” and “Best Neighborhood Spot.” Some of his parents’ clients had celebrated twenty anniversaries at the same goddamn table.
And here was Rocco.
Three months here and already a has-been.
“I’ve tried to spread the word that pumpkin spice is back and god help us, gingerbread, too,” Rocco said, motioning to the artistic chalkboard sign sitting just outside the door.
Rebecca leaned against the counter. Lifting Rocco’s head so he’d stop thwacking it against the counter.
“Stop that. You’re gonna give yourself a concussion, and then what are you going to do? Listen, these people are creatures of habit. Most of them were born here and grew up here and never left. Jolly Java is a part of that tradition. Give them that tradition back.”
It was hard to give something back to someone when he’d been so eager to change it it felt like he’d barely given the original a second glance. Sure, he had Rebecca as a resource, but every time he suggested making a change back to what they’d had before, she’d given him one of those looks that said, but that isn’t going to fix it.
Well, he had to fix it.
“I’m trying,” Rocco said. “I gave them goddamn pumpkin spice back, didn’t I?” He shuddered.
“It’s not about flavors, though that certainly isn’t going to hurt you.” Rebecca’s mouth quirked into a little smile. “You know that.”
“I spent the last two weeks trying to get the festival committee to consider letting me supply the cookies for the tree lighting, thinking maybe I could convince the town to try me again.” When Rebecca shot him another one of those looks, he kept going. “I was even going to serve goddamn normal things, I swear. Chocolate chip and sugar and snickerdoodle and peanut butter. I showed up more than once with baskets of cookies. Fresh baked! And you know what they said?”
Rebecca sighed. “I can only imagine.”
“Joel’s handling it. Joel knows what he’s doing. Like I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“You did take pumpkin spice off the menu.” She was smiling again, and yes, it sounded very stupid when she said it now.
His head had just been building castles in the sky.
“Holly and Joelle supplied cookies every year to the tree lighting before last year. Joel does it one year and he ‘knows what he’s doing’!” Rocco made a frustrated noise and re-started banging his head, before Rebecca stopped him again, grabbing him by a handful of dark curls.
“You’ll figure something out,” Rebecca promised. “You’re a smart guy. You’re good at this, when you get out of your own way.”
“Thanks,” Rocco said dryly. “But we Morettis aren’t just ‘good at this’! We’re spectacular! We’re fabulous! We’re fucking synonymous with flavor and experience.”
“No? Are y’all as dramatic as that, too?”
Rocco laughed, because otherwise he was going to cry. “Believe it or not, I’m from the undramatic branch of the family.”
Rebecca joined him, downright cackling with delight at this impossibility. “Would one of your cousins be on his knees by now, rending his garments and banging his fists on the floor?”
It was easier to keep laughing, and even easier still when Rocco considered this. “Absolutely,” he said. “Gabe, yes. He’d be beside himself. He’s so fucking emotional. And Lorenzo? Yeah. He’d be right alongside there with him, unless it messed up his perfect hair. Luca? He’d have issued an edict ordering everyone to return, or else.”
“Or else?”
“There’d be a town coup if Luca was in charge. Governmental change number one would be a law requiring everyone to visit Jolly Java once a day.”
“Well, there’s always that,” Rebecca said lightly.
“There’s always that,” Rocco retorted morosely.
“Well, one positive about being slow today is that we can close early, for the tree lighting,” Rebecca said. “You gonna head over?”
“So I can eat perfect Joel’s perfect cookies? No fucking thank you,” Rocco said.
“Rocco,” Rebecca chided.
He sighed. “No,” he murmured. “I’m not in the mood. Maybe I’ll take up that whole tray of pastries and gorge myself on the couch, watching the worst TV I can find.”
“I think Real Housewives has a Duluth edition, these days,” Rebecca teased.
“Ugh, that might actually be better than thinking about how I’ve messed this up,” Rocco said.
Rebecca whacked him on the shoulder before turning and heading to the front door, flicking off the open sign, grabbing the chalkboard sign, and tucking it behind a row of barstools that stood on the new tall bar that ran alongside the big picture window.
Rocco had imagined people sitting there, working on their laptops and enjoying the beautifully decorated streets of downtown Christmas Falls.
That had not happened.
“Come on,” she said, “you’re gonna come with me to the tree lighting. It’s your first one here, you can’t miss it because you’re throwing yourself a big pity party.”
“I’m not exactly in a festive mood,” Rocco argued.
“Doesn’t matter.” Rebecca shot him another look, but this one was softer, affectionate. “In Christmas Falls, everyone’s welcome. Even grinches.”
“I’m not a grinch.” In fact, Rocco had actually kind of looked forward to living in a town with this much affection for and attention to the holidays. It felt like when he’d been a kid, he’d never gotten much of that kind of season-long revelry. Other than the celebration on Christmas Day itself, when the restaurant was closed, in December it always had been packed with revelers and holiday parties and office celebrations. His parents certainly hadn’t ignored him, but that was one of their busiest times of year. In fact, starting at a young age, Rocco had often been drafted to help.
He’d been excited about being part of this community expression of pure holiday joy.
That was before he’d lost all sense of community and joy.
“I’d hope not.” Rebecca reached over and brushed one of his curls back from his forehead. “Seriously, you can’t just sit at home on the couch and feel sorry for yourself. It’s not healthy.”
“In this mood, sulking feels great,” Rocco said.
“Yep, you’re definitely tapping into that overdramatic Moretti side,” Rebecca said, chuckling. “I’ll let you sulk for approximately two point five hours, but then you’re gonna come with me to the tree lighting.”
“Fine,” Rocco said. “I’ll do it. Then I can sulk in peace?”
Rebecca laughed. “All you want to, Moretti.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He’d just made it upstairs to his little apartment over the coffee shop when he got a text.
Hey, call me when you have a sec, it read, from his cousin Luca’s husband, Oliver.
Rocco had spent the last year in Indigo Bay, soaking up every little thing Oliver, a master baker who owned a charming and popular bakery and cafe in town, had to teach him.
He’d originally gone out to the east coast to save up additional money for his nest egg, but the bonus had been that Oliver had been willing to show him just about anything he asked about, and more. During the ten months he’d spent in Indigo Bay, he’d learned more about how to be a business owner and a baker than he had in the last few years before that.
It was one of the reasons why when the opportunity to purchase Jolly Java had come up, he’d jumped at it. He’d felt ready.
Now, he just felt like a failure.
His first foray into ownership and he hadn’t just not brought in new customers, he’d alienated the ones he’d inherited.
Rocco debated just not answering him, but Oliver had given him so much, it felt wrong to return that with silence.
Besides, he was family, now, and Rocco had learned from an early age that you didn’t just ignore family.
He dialed Oliver’s number and set it to speaker as he flopped down onto the couch.
The owners of Jolly Java had just put in the second floor when they’d decided—when their daughter moved with their granddaughter to Florida—to sell. They told Rocco they’d intended to rent it out to tourists during the holiday season and to use it for storage the rest of the year. Along with some of his other changes to the main space, he’d expanded the bathroom and even put in a little kitchenette, but for the rest of his cooking, he went downstairs and used the big kitchen.
“Hey, I thought you’d be busy,” Oliver said.
Rocco made a face. If he didn’t want Oliver to know the truth, he should’ve waited to call him.
“Slow one today. It’s the big tree lighting tonight,” Rocco said. Like the tree lighting would have normally kept anyone away from Jolly Java. In fact Holly and Joelle had specifically told him that festival afternoons were always some of their busiest.
Ha.
Not today.
“Oh, that sounds so fun,” Oliver said. “You gonna go? You made any friends yet?”
“You sound like my mother,” Rocco complained. “Actually—a cross between my mother and your husband.”
Oliver chuckled. “That’s a terrifying thought.”
“Yeah. Seriously.” He paused. “So, what’s up?”
“That marzipan syrup you did for that new latte on your menu? I wondered if you’d send me the recipe.”
Rocco winced. “You really want that?”
“Sure, I do. It sounds delicious. I think the customers would love it,” Oliver said and the confusion in his voice made it clear he had no idea why Rocco wasn’t eager to give it to him.
“Well, at least someone might,” Rocco said under his breath. Then louder, “I’ll email it to you.”
“Great. Thanks.” Oliver paused, and Rocco could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. Don’t ask, don’t ask, just don’t ask. “Everything alright?”
Dang it. He’d asked.
“Fine,” Rocco said, but he could hear the high, false note in his own voice.
“Rocco, you know running a business is hard. But then I don’t have to tell you that. You want to talk about it? Everyone has a bad day, every once in awhile.”
“How about a bad month?”
There was only silence on the other end. Rocco wished he hadn’t said it. Wished he’d kept his failure a secret.
“Is it going that badly?” Oliver sounded cautious. Careful.
“I fucked it up.” Rocco rubbed a hand over his face. Knew the moment the words were out of his mouth this time that it actually felt good to tell Oliver and stop trying to grind it out alone.
He had Rebecca, sure, but he hadn’t made any other friends in town. In fact, it felt like the exact goddamn opposite.
He’d been lucky they hadn’t run him out of town already for refusing to make a pumpkin spice latte.
“What?” Oliver sounded shocked. “How could you? Rocco, you’re great at this. The place looked awesome. Just perfect for you.”
“That’s the worst of it,” Rocco said glumly. “It was perfect.”
“Well, what happened? Tell me about it,” Oliver coaxed.
“Ugh, so you know the marzipan latte? That’s the problem. That’s the whole problem.”
“Huh.”
“I changed too many things, too fast,” Rocco admitted. “And I took a bunch of stuff people loved off the menu.” He made a groan. “Including fucking pumpkin spice.”
Oliver chuckled. “You didn’t.”
“I know.” Rocco groaned again. “I know. It’s back on the menu, but the thing is it pissed off some people, most of the regulars, and now they won’t come back. I get some tourist business, but it’s not the same. It’s not Sweetie Pie’s.”
Oliver sighed when Rocco brought up his bakery. “Sweetie Pie’s didn’t start like you saw it, you know that.”
“Yeah, but it still got there,” Rocco said despondently. “I’m not sure Jolly Java is gonna get there.”
Just saying it out loud made Rocco want to cry. He’d poured so much into this business. Every penny he’d saved starting back when he’d been only a gangly teenager, every time he’d put in a twelve or fourteen or sixteen hour day, doing what he loved, but that was still fucking hard work. He’d done it because of this day. But now this day had come, and it wasn’t anything like he’d expected—and honestly, some of that was his own damn fault, and that made it even worse.
“You’re gonna fix it,” Oliver soothed. “You put pumpkin spice back on the menu, right?”
“Yes,” Rocco said, laughing because it was better than crying. “And gingerbread, too.”
“Good,” Oliver said. “I’ve read about Christmas Falls. The community there is so fantastic. You can win them back. I know you can, Rocco. You won me over, didn’t you?”
“You were easy,” Rocco scoffed. “You were predisposed to like me. I’m a Moretti, and you’re married to a Moretti.”
Oliver laughed. “True. But you’re still a good-natured, charming guy. Maybe you’re not Ren, but you’re no slouch.”
“Nobody is Ren except for Ren,” Rocco retorted, referring to his cousin Lorenzo, who had cut a swath through the eligible bachelors of Los Angeles with breathtaking ease.
“What I’m saying is deploy some of that infamous Moretti charm,” Oliver said. “People like you. If they like you, they’ll figure out they made a mistake.”
“Does that mean I can’t hide in my apartment, drowning my sorrows with Cherry Garcia?” Rocco asked. Even though he already knew that Rebecca wouldn’t let him tonight, anyway.
“Absolutely not. Doesn’t that festival thing start soon?” Oliver asked.
“Yep. Tonight, actually.”
“There you go,” Oliver said. “Go. Participate. Be part of the community. I know small towns. You’re a stranger. Once you’re not a stranger, you’ll be part of them, and they won’t hold the pumpkin spice thing against you.”
“I don’t know,” Rocco said with faux gravity, “people take their pumpkin spice pretty goddamn seriously.”
“Exactly. And now you know that. You’ve learned your lesson, and you won’t make that mistake again.” Oliver paused, and Rocco knew him well enough to know he was smiling. “Listen, being a business owner? Honestly, it’s just making one mistake after another. The difference between successful businesses and the ones who don’t make it? The owner’s ability to learn from their mistakes and not make them again. And you’re smart and you’re flexible. You’ll get there.”
For the first time since things had started to go badly, Rocco felt like this situation could actually be salvaged. Like he might really turn this whole thing around.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah. Absolutely. I wouldn’t lie to you,” Oliver said seriously. “And, if all else fails, I’ll send Luca out there to fix you up.”
“No!” Rocco yelped. He did not want Luca Moretti, the now de facto head of the Morettis, Oliver’s husband, and the culinary business genius of the family to come fix him. He wouldn’t live through it—they both wouldn’t live through it, probably.
Oliver cackled in delight at his vehemence. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t.”
“Can you . . .” Rocco hesitated. He didn’t want to tell Oliver to keep a secret from his husband, but also . . .he wasn’t ready to tell Luca he’d screwed things up here. Maybe when they were already on their way to being fixed, he’d be willing to tell his ridiculously competent cousin about it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word to him. This stays between us,” Oliver said. “You’ll tell him when you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Rocco said.
“But don’t be a stranger, either. You need help, you call me, okay?” Oliver’s voice was kind, empathetic even, but there was the ring of steel beneath it.
“I will,” Rocco promised.
“Good,” Oliver said. “Now go out and mingle, okay? Charm the pants off some hot guy.”
“Oliver!” Rocco squeaked, but Oliver just laughed.
“You young kids didn’t invent sex, you know.”
“I’m not young, and you’re not old,” Rocco said.
Oliver chuckled. “No, not even close. But still. Have fun, okay?”
“Okay,” Rocco said and flopped back on the couch after he’d hung up. He should get up, take a shower. Fix his hair, even though all he’d end up doing was shoving a hat on top of it, in deference to the cold Illinois weather.
But he would, in a minute. First though, he was gonna enjoy this warm feeling—the feeling that told him that this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.
12 Dates of Christmas by Brigham Vaughn
CHAPTER ONE
“I hate you a little bit.” Leo Fenner sighed and set a box on the coffee table.
Hayden Bradley smirked. “Nice thing to say to your best friend who’s helping you move into your new place.”
Leo grinned. “Okay, fine. I don’t hate you. But I am jealous. How did you manage to snag the perfect guy?”
“Slipped and fell on my ass in front of his bakery,” Hayden said with a laugh. “And then was rude to him.”
“Yeah, I dunno that I can recreate that one.” Laughing too, Leo dropped onto the couch in his new apartment.
The one right above that very same bakery, Ginger’s Breads.
Hayden had met his boyfriend, Joel MacArthur, last winter in a way that seemed like something out of a cute little holiday rom-com movie.
Hayden had moved from Chicago to the small town of Christmas Falls, Illinois to temporarily live with his mom and stepdad while he desperately tried to find a job as a web designer. His goal was to get the hell out of town as fast as possible. Instead, he’d been swept off his feet by the bakery owner, found a gig working as a website designer for the local college, and been hired to revamp the town’s festival website.
Which was where Leo had come in.
At the time, he’d been living in Chicago and working for a big company as a web developer. When people got the two jobs confused—and they always did—Leo had always liked to joke that Hayden made websites pretty, but he made them work.
Which wasn’t entirely true but it made Hayden get that grumpy look on his face that always made Leo laugh.
Hayden had texted him in a panic late last winter and said he needed help with a misbehaving section of the website, Leo had pitched in. What he’d expected to be a one-time-thing had turned into a semi-regular freelance gig.
While Leo could have done it all remotely, he’d used it as an excuse to visit his friend. Every time he was here, he fell a little more in love with the quirky little town that celebrated Christmas 24/7, 365 days a year.
“Hey, you okay?” Hayden asked with a frown. “You seem a little quiet. I thought you’d be more excited about moving here.”
“I am,” Leo protested. “Just … I don’t know. It suddenly feels a little crazy to realize I totally uprooted my life in Chicago to move to some Christmas-themed small town on the off chance of finding love.”
He laughed after he said that aloud because it was ridiculous sounding. But here he was.
“I get that,” Hayden said, perching on the arm of the sofa. “But you have to admit, there’s something about this place that seems to bring people together.”
“There is,” Leo agreed.
Because in the past ten months he’d spent driving from Chicago to Christmas Falls to hang out with Hayden and do the work on the Christmas Festival’s website together, he heard the stories about how people met. He saw all of the adorable couples strolling down Candy Cane Lane. He watched several first dates and even a proposal happen before his very eyes!
And Leo wanted that. He wanted it so bad but he was getting nowhere in Chicago. Not with the dating apps. Not going to queer spaces. Not at cheesy speed-dating events.
Chicago’s thriving neighborhood of Boystown should have been the easiest place in the world to find the guy of his dreams. But nope. Leo had been ghosted and lied to and even scammed. Yeah, that had been his breaking point.
That was the moment he’d said fuck it and started aggressively planning to move to Christmas Falls.
Leo glanced over at Hayden, who was staring with a worried frown. “I’ll be okay,” he said lightly. “It’ll all work out eventually.”
Because he had to believe that or he’d throw himself into a snowbank and refuse to ever come out.
“Okay.” Leo slapped his thighs, then rose to his feet. “Let’s get the rest of this stuff moved in, then you can take me out to lunch at Frosty’s.”
Hayden snorted. “Uhh, pretty sure you’re supposed to take me out since I was the one who helped you move.”
Leo shrugged, following him to the door. “Potato-potahto,” he said breezily.
As they walked down the steps, they ran into Joel.
Leo stifled an appreciative sigh. The man was a hunky ginger-haired bear of a baker with kind eyes and a sweet smile. Lucky Hayden.
“It’s slowed down a little at the bakery so I can help you guys unload, if you want,” Joel said, flashing that same sweet smile at them both before he bent to give Hayden a quick kiss, wrapping an arm around his waist.
Hayden shot him an adoring look and Leo had to look away. They were utterly, disgustingly in love.
Leo was so fucking envious.
“Thanks, Joel. Help would be amazing,” Leo said gratefully. He’d sold most of his furniture since the apartment over the bakery came with the pieces he needed, but he still had plenty of crap to haul upstairs.
Thankfully, with three people, the work was a whole lot lighter than it had been when Leo packed the car in Chicago by himself. Although, if Leo caught Hayden ogling Joel’s ass one more time, he was going to barf.
Or maybe that was the envy talking again. Because goddamn did Joel have a nice ass.
Joel should use that for the bakery’s tagline: home of the baker with the best buns.
Twenty minutes later, Leo’s car was empty, his thighs ached from the trips up and down the stairs, and a plate of warm ginger-molasses cookies from the bakery sat on the coffee table.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Leo protested, but he was already eagerly reaching for one of Joel’s incredible treats. “You gave me your apartment.”
Joel grinned. “I wouldn’t call having a rental agreement giving it to you, but of course I had to get you a housewarming gift! You’re officially a resident of Christmas Falls!”
Leo bit into the cookie and tried not to moan. No wonder Hayden had fallen in love with the baker. He wasn’t just hot. These cookies were legit. Chewy and sweet, with a bite of ginger that made his tongue tingle.
As if Hayden could tell what Leo was thinking, he slid an arm around Joel’s waist and eyed Leo. “Don’t go getting any ideas though. This guy is all mine.”
Leo laughed and nearly choked on his cookie. “I know that,” he mumbled around his food.
After he finished the last delicious bite, he glanced between Hayden and Joel. “Seriously, I’m happy for you guys. I love that you got a house together.”
Hayden beamed, which said everything because he had been a horrible grump last year. Though, who could blame him? He’d been through a lot. “Yeah, I’m excited we found a place.”
Joel had lived over the bakery for about a decade and Hayden had moved in with him last winter. A few months ago, they’d found a cute little house on the edge of downtown and had slowly been moving in there.
That was when Leo had, mostly jokingly, said something about moving to Christmas Falls and taking over the apartment. Joel had brightened, looking excited. He’d quoted a price so low Leo nearly fell over.
Once the idea had been planted in Leo’s head, it refused to budge. He’d paid three times more in Chicago and his job could be done remotely except for the occasional trip into the office every few months.
Christmas Falls seemed like a fairytale compared to Chicago so why not?
But he hadn’t been serious about it until a few weeks later when the guy he’d gone on a few dates with had given him a sob story about being kicked out of the house he was renting with friends.
There had been tears as he’d told about his former housemates throwing slurs at him as they tossed his belongings on the lawn. The guy had seemed so scared and traumatized that Leo knew he had to help.
While Leo wasn’t comfortable letting a virtual stranger move in with him, he’d given him enough money to rent a clean—if not fancy—hotel room for a week until he got housing straightened out.
Only a few days later, when the guy went silent and Leo mentioned it to a friend over brunch, the friend rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you haven’t heard about that old scam going around the area?” he said, pity dripping from his voice and written all over his face. “I can’t believe you fell for it. You’re so naïve.”
Leo had looked online and found proof it had happened to dozens of guys in the area.
So yeah, that was the last fucking straw. That same night, he’d video chatted with Hayden and Joel about the logistics for moving into their old place while he packed his belongings.
Fuck the Chicago dating scene.
Leo deserved real love. Not people who would use real, awful situations actually happening to queer people as some ploy to scam money out of them.
“Leo? You’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner next week, right?” Joel asked now. “We’re excited to host it for the first time.”
“Yep. I’ll be there!” Leo promised. “Want me to bring a side dish?”
“Please,” Joel answered with a smile. “We’ve got the turkey, stuffing, and obviously the pies are all taken care of.”
They all laughed.
The man could cook and bake. Seriously, Hayden had all the luck.
“One green bean casserole coming up!” Leo promised brightly, because he refused to be resentful of his friend’s happiness.
“Great,” Hayden said. “This’ll be fun!”
“It will. But I should head downstairs again. Sorry I can’t help you get settled in more, Leo.” Joel looked apologetic. “We’re ramping up to the holidays and …”
“Yeah, no worries, I get it,” Leo assured him. “Trust me. This won’t take too long to unpack. You were both a huge help already.”
Hayden glanced at his phone. “I think we’ll work for about an hour on getting Leo organized, then head to lunch.”
“Okay,” Joel said, dropping a kiss on Hayden’s lips. “See you at home in a few hours?”
“Yep, I’ll see you then.”
“Love you!”
“Love you too.”
But before Joel could go, Hayden reached out and grabbed his shirt. He kissed him a little more thoroughly, winding his arms around Joel’s neck.
A pang of envy appeared again.
Hayden glowed whenever he was around Joel or even talked about him. And Joel glowed right back.
It was everything Leo had ever wanted and—damn it—this was his year to find it!
He was ready for his own Christmas miracle.
DJ JamisonDJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.
Beth Bolden
A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.
Brigham Vaughn
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
DJ Jamison
Beth Bolden
Snuggle is Real by DJ Jamison
👀Audiobook set to release October 2026👀
Flake it Till You Make It by Beth Bolden
12 Dates of Christmas by Brigham Vaughn
Christmas Falls Season 1
Christmas Falls Season 2
No comments:
Post a Comment