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One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. If any of the purchase links included here don't work be sure and check the authors' websites/social media for the most recent links as they can change over time for a variety of reasons.
Here at Padme's Library I feature all genres but followers have probably noticed that 95% of the posts and 99% of my reviews fall under the LGBT genres, so for this year's Pride Month I am showcasing 20 of my favorite M/M single dad reads in no particular order. The single dads fall under a variety of genres and tropes with a perfect blend of romance, drama, healing, and heart, creating unforgettable reads.
One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. If any of the purchase links included here don't work be sure and check the authors' websites/social media for the most recent links as they can change over time for a variety of reasons.
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The Cupid Crawl by Hank Edwards
Summary:Williamsville Inn #3
A hook-up app serial dater. A Valentine’s bar crawl. A day that will change their lives.
Carter Walsh will be alone on Valentine’s Day, and his plans include a candy sampler of hook-ups. But once he learns about the Cupid Crawl—a bar crawl covering a half dozen bars, both gay and straight—he decides on a change of plans.
At the first bar, Carter meets Harry, a divorced dad coming out later in life, and he’s far from impressed. Harry’s definitely not the type of guy Carter would ever swipe right for. But as the Cupid Crawl hops from bar to bar, the two seem to naturally gravitate toward each other, and before he realizes it, Carter’s succumbed to the magic of Valentine’s Day and ditched the hook-up app to spend all his time with Harry.
The Cupid Crawl is a funny, sweet, and steamy opposites attract, divorced bi-sexual dad, slight age gap story that takes place in the Williamsville Inn series world, and features characters from the Christmas stories Snowflakes and Song Lyrics by Hank Edwards and Snowstorms and Second Chances by Brigham Vaughn.
The Cupid Crawl is, plain and simple, a rom-com that will delight from beginning to end. Is this the kind of romantic comedy you might find on Hallmark? Doubtful. To be honest, Cupid is way better than just another Valentine's Hallmark-y cliche. "Carter the Farter" is hilarious and yet you can just feel Carter wanting the ground to open up and pull him under when it's announced in public where he's hoping to find some meaningless hook-ups. You can't help but be in equal parts laughing and wanting to wrap him up and tell him it was long ago and nobody cares.
As for Carter, well at times he's a hard pill to take but he quickly gets sucked into your heart and just want him to find his HEA. In Harry you know he just might find that HEA if everything aligns, okay you know they'll find each other to be more than just a hook-up but it's the getting there that is where all the fun lies.
I can't help but feel the more I say the less fun I make it sound, that the story appears to be cliche and formulaic and it isn't so I think I'll just end with pushing the point that The Cupid Crawl is a delightful holiday gem. So whether you read this as a Valentine's story or as a romance later in the year, you won't be sorry. I should also note that I have not yet read Hank Edwards' Christmas entry to the Williamsville Inn series but I don't feel lost in any way, is their a question of Carter's friendship with Will? Maybe but I wasn't lost, I didn't feel that anything was missing.
RATING:
Poke Check by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Summary:Harrisburg Railers #4
One scorching summer in each other’s arms could never be enough.
Stanislav “Stan” Lyamin is happy playing for the Railers. The towering goalie is well-loved, respected, and making a home for himself even though that home only contains him, his cat, and his growing Pokemon trading card collection. Stan prefers it that way.
He’d given his heart to a man in a secret affair, and that man walked away, leaving Stan shattered. Now Erik is back in his life, and he has the same tumultuous effect he had on Stan’s heart as before. This time it’s not just a kissable mouth and sweet blond curls that Erik has brought to Harrisburg, there’s a soon-to-be ex-wife and a precious baby.
Despite the vow Stan made to hate Erik forever, he’s now finding it harder and harder to turn away.
Erik Gunnarsson’s dream had always been to play in the NHL, he just never imagined he’d land a contract with the Railers. Who would have thought that fate would put him on the same team as Stanislav Lyamin; the man whose heart he’d callously broken?
Secrets and lies had defined their summer relationship, and the choice that Erik made to end it all haunts him still. In the middle of a messy divorce and with a baby in tow, Erik finds himself back in Stan’s life. Now all he has to do is be the best dad he can be, prove to the team that he deserves the chance to stay on the roster and try his hardest to get Stan to forgive him.
Is it possible to persuade a man who hates you to give love a second chance?
Original Review February 2018:
Stanislav Lyamin is loving his time as the Railers' goalie. He has his team, his cat, and his Pokeman cards and that is enough. Having given his heart to another and then having it ripped out was enough for him, he's content. Erik Gunnarsson is trying to make a life for him and his infant son, so when he's signed to play for the Railers not only does it give him the chance to fullfil his dream of playing for the NHL but also the chance at stability for his little boy. Knowing the team's goalie is the man he left brokenhearted is a double edged sword. Can Stan and Erik work together to bring victory to the team and will they be able to heal their hearts or is too late?
Followers of my reviews probably recall from the first three entries in the Harrisburg Railers series that I am not a hockey fan. Again, I don't hate the sport(I actually watched quite a bit of it during the Olympics this month😉) but if all the hockey arenas were to disappear from the world tomorrow I wouldn't miss it. I'm not trying to insult hockey fans or be disparaging of the sport I just think its worth mentioning because I absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this series so not being a hockey fan I think it says it better than anything how amazing the authors are in telling these stories.
As for Poke Check, well when I heard that Stan was getting his own story I was beyond stoked. Stan is the man! Yes, I went there😉 When it comes to Erik, well I wanted to hate him for breaking Stan's heart but he is just so lovable. Personally, I don't think there is anything sexier than a man who is taking care of a child, especially when Erik is so loving towards little Noah, so determined to give him a good life and has sacrificed so much to do so. The pairs' reconnecting is just the right pace to make Poke Check a close second in the series for me. I don't think any pairing will top Tennant and Jared from Changing Lines but Stan and Erik give them a darn good race. One more thing about Stan: I've read many an accents in books and I hardly ever "hear" the accents in my head but with Stan, it was like he was sitting right next to me and reading me the book. Every word, every nuance, every mistaken pronunciation or phrase, that's how I read it in my head so I just want to say kudos to whichever author was in charge of bringing Stan to life.
One more thing: if you are like me and not a hockey fan, don't worry because Scott & Locey add just the right amount of detail to the action of the game so non-fans can follow along and yet not feel like parts of it are from Hockey for Dummies. Poke Check is a wondrous blend of romance, drama, lust, family, friendship, and love. If asked should the series be read in order? I am going to say yes. Each entry is technically a standalone as each is a different pairing but I just find the friendships grow with each one so I definitely recommend in order but it doesn't have to be, you won't be lost if read out of sequence.
Stanislav Lyamin is loving his time as the Railers' goalie. He has his team, his cat, and his Pokeman cards and that is enough. Having given his heart to another and then having it ripped out was enough for him, he's content. Erik Gunnarsson is trying to make a life for him and his infant son, so when he's signed to play for the Railers not only does it give him the chance to fullfil his dream of playing for the NHL but also the chance at stability for his little boy. Knowing the team's goalie is the man he left brokenhearted is a double edged sword. Can Stan and Erik work together to bring victory to the team and will they be able to heal their hearts or is too late?
Followers of my reviews probably recall from the first three entries in the Harrisburg Railers series that I am not a hockey fan. Again, I don't hate the sport(I actually watched quite a bit of it during the Olympics this month😉) but if all the hockey arenas were to disappear from the world tomorrow I wouldn't miss it. I'm not trying to insult hockey fans or be disparaging of the sport I just think its worth mentioning because I absolutely LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this series so not being a hockey fan I think it says it better than anything how amazing the authors are in telling these stories.
As for Poke Check, well when I heard that Stan was getting his own story I was beyond stoked. Stan is the man! Yes, I went there😉 When it comes to Erik, well I wanted to hate him for breaking Stan's heart but he is just so lovable. Personally, I don't think there is anything sexier than a man who is taking care of a child, especially when Erik is so loving towards little Noah, so determined to give him a good life and has sacrificed so much to do so. The pairs' reconnecting is just the right pace to make Poke Check a close second in the series for me. I don't think any pairing will top Tennant and Jared from Changing Lines but Stan and Erik give them a darn good race. One more thing about Stan: I've read many an accents in books and I hardly ever "hear" the accents in my head but with Stan, it was like he was sitting right next to me and reading me the book. Every word, every nuance, every mistaken pronunciation or phrase, that's how I read it in my head so I just want to say kudos to whichever author was in charge of bringing Stan to life.
One more thing: if you are like me and not a hockey fan, don't worry because Scott & Locey add just the right amount of detail to the action of the game so non-fans can follow along and yet not feel like parts of it are from Hockey for Dummies. Poke Check is a wondrous blend of romance, drama, lust, family, friendship, and love. If asked should the series be read in order? I am going to say yes. Each entry is technically a standalone as each is a different pairing but I just find the friendships grow with each one so I definitely recommend in order but it doesn't have to be, you won't be lost if read out of sequence.
The Alphas Santa-Kissed Omega by Lorelei M Hart
Summary:
Alpha Kissed #4
Nothing is simple when you’re dating a single father.
I told myself after my alpha passed away that I might not ever find another. I would raise my son Dane the best I knew how and, when, years later, our family and friends were still acting as if I should mourn forever, I decided to move from The Netherlands to start over in the United States. My little guy deserved a bright future where he wasn’t constantly being asked if he missed a dad he didn’t even remember.
I didn’t do it with the intent of finding another alpha. After all, most omegas were lucky to find one to fall in love with, and I’d had mine. But when I saw Link, I knew he was mine. My true mate.
The moment Gustav walked into the room, and I took in his scent, my heart knew he was mine and there would never be another for me. It was perfect. Except his son disliked me on sight. Now I have no idea how to move on with my mate when someone so important to him disapproves. But I’m not going to give up. I’ve found not only my omega, but my family, my future. One I hope we can all share.
The Alpha’s Santa-Kissed Omega is a MM, Mpreg, non-shifter holiday romance with a strong, kind alpha, an intelligent loving omega, an adorable little boy who isn’t sure about his new situation, and a baby on the way.
Original Review January 2025:
I want to take a second to thank the author for the Netherlands connection, my great grandfather came to America with his parents and siblings in 1910 and I really found the holiday traditions interesting. I also found Link trying to connect with Gustav's son, Dane, through the traditions a lovely little touch.
I won't say too much so as not to spoil anything. I know some don't like an insta-love romance, they don't find them believable but I can attest to the fact that they are very real as my grandparents were just that: insta-love that lasted 48 years until my grandfather passed. Of course when dealing with fated mates tropes, why wouldn't insta-love be involved? Long as the author writes it well it's one of my favorite tropes and Lorelei M Hart definitely writes it well.
When children are involved in the story it can be hard to do them justice, to get the balance right between sugary sweet and obnoxious brat. Dane is a well balanced little boy who is sweet as can be except when it comes to the new man in his daddy's life. The author does a wonderful job when it comes to that balance as well as both Gustav and Link's responses to his moments of defiance. You just want to wrap all three up in huge Mama Bear Hugs to let them know how well they are all handling everything and to let them know it's okay for time to be given to getting all the emotional pieces to fit.
This is only the second story in the author's Alpha Kissed series but I know it won't be my last, a true holiday gem.
Carbon & Ash by Chris Owen
Summary:Former minor league baseball player and little league coach Myles figures he and his buddy Todd have a lot in common. They're both single dads, they both love baseball and camping, and their sons get along great. They also have this thing they do, this touching thing a few times a year that Myles figures is just all about creature comfort.
The thing is, as they both think about dating other people and breaking up their late night tradition, Myles starts to realize maybe he's not as casual about Todd as he thought. In fact, he has to take a long hard look at how he feels, and hope he doesn't strike out.
Original Review April 2018:
Carbon and Ash is a lovely, short read that has just the right amount of heat and sweet. Would I have liked to seen more of Myles and Todd and their sons? Of course. Does the story lack anything by not having more background or future to their journey? Not at all. Perhaps one day we'll see what these lads are up to but if not, I loved this short read and can honestly say I'll be re-visiting them again next year as spring training starts and I am in a baseball mood. This is my first Chris Owen read but it will definitely not be the last.
RATING:
RATING:
Jared by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
Summary:Boyfriend for Hire #5
Jared's world is turned upside down after Luka hands over his pocket money to hire him as a friend for his lonely, widowed dad.
Jared is good at his job, but his soft heart means that he often finds himself in the weirdest of situations. A kind-of-threesome, a disappearing swan, and a destroyed hotel room are just the tip of the iceberg, but he is a popular boyfriend-for-hire and always in demand. He dreams of working as a family psychologist one day, and as his work with Bryant & Waites is funding his studies, the last thing he wants is to lose his job. At a make-or-break meeting, Jared vows to focus on being strictly professional. Still, almost immediately, he meets Luka sitting on the office steps with pocket money in hand and with a sadness that melts Jared's resolve. Luka explains that his mom passed away some years ago, and his hardworking father needs a friend. Jared has no intention of taking Luka's pocket money, but he wants to make Luka smile again, and if being hired as a friend for Luka's widowed dad is what it takes, then he's all in.
Being a single dad to eleven-year-old Luka is the best thing in Nate's world, but add running a bar with long hours, and his work-life balance is screwed. There's certainly no time for relationships, and even though Luka worries about his dad's love life daily, romance is the last thing on Nate's agenda. Owning Rhea's Bar and keeping his head above water is second only to his love for Luka. His entire world consists of his son and the bar until Jared stumbles into his life. Even though Nate won't admit it, he's lonely, and Jared is the first friend he's made in a very long time. Could their friendship become something more?
Original March Book of the Month 2025 Review:
I'm not sure how this entry went unread, looking at the original release date I'm guessing it was the fact that my mother was preparing for surgery that would go on to result in a nearly 4 month hospital stay. As to why I never went back before now? Well, I guess time just gets away from us. Frankly, had I not been putting together a blog post for my Saturday Series Spotlight, it probably would have been longer before reading Jared. I guess sometimes things work out in their own way, at any rate I finally got to read Jared. YUMMY!!!!
Jared has a heart of gold where tears, as he called it "his kryptonite", lead to mishap after mishap which in turn has lead to his last chance at work. In comes little Luka looking to pay for a boyfriend for his dad, Nate. Talk about Jared's kryptonite, oh boy! Luka is such an adorable little boy who really only wants a friend for dad and once the two men meet, Jared doesn't want to take the little lad's money but Luka won't not give him his coins so what can the man do?
Since losing Luka's mother, Nate has made Luka his world, not that he wasn't before but you know what I mean. He has an amazing support system but his guilt of having to run the bar he and his wife had which takes time away from Luka-time eats away at him. When he gets a call that Luka isn't where he is suppose to be after school, he starts to try and change things so more Luka-time is front and center. When he first saw Jared walking down the street with his "missing" son you can imagine his response but thankfully between Luka and Jared, the blow-up doesn't last long but I got a feeling it'll become a cute-meet story for years to come😉.
As I've said before, single parenting stories can go either way in regards to the kids. As with most things in HEA romances, the kids are great in the end but getting there can be tricky. In my experience, 90-95% fall in either "super sugary sweet" or "need a good day-long day in the corner time out". Well I can honestly say that Scott & Russell's little Luka fell in the "balanced behavior" that is too-little used. For that alone, I have to offer up a huge "Thank You!" as I know kids who fall in either end of the behavior ruler but most kids are a loveable blend so I'm always thrilled to see them represented in fiction.
As I started with, I understand why I didn't read Jared when it was first released considering everything in my life at the time but what took so long to go back to it, I'll never understand but as the saying goes: "better late than never". I have no idea if RJ Scott & Meredith Russell will ever return to their Boyfriend for Hire series but I know if they do I won't take so long to enjoy it and if not, well they might not make my annual re-read/re-listen list but I know I'll enjoy them again and again down the years. There is just a great blend of humor, drama, heartache, and heart-healing love that brings tears, both sad and happy ones, to the eyes.
RATING:
The Cupid Crawl by Hank Edwards
Vic, the organizer, led the way, squeezing past the men and women standing in the doorway and forging a path for Carter to follow. At first, Carter thought he was way overdressed. The men he slid past were shirtless, some wearing just white loin cloths or even cloth diapers along with feathered wings strapped around their broad chests. These men gave him a brief glance, maybe a quick smile, but were busy talking to each other or women who were also baring a lot of skin. Didn’t these people realize it was February in Boston?
When he reached the bar, Carter was relieved to see people wearing shirts and pants instead of just diapers and short shorts. Vic leaned in over the bar and said to the bartender, “Don, this is my good friend, Carter. Put his first two drinks on my tab.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Carter insisted. “I have money.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Carter,” Vic said. “The first two drinks are on me to help you relax. I’m going to make a round of the bar, but when I return, I hope to find you talking with someone, and not just leaning on the bar all alone.”
“I know how to socialize,” Carter said.
“Oh, I’m sure you do.”
Vic winked again before threading his way through the crowd, greeting people as he slid past them. Carter ordered a beer from Don, and then fished a couple of singles out of his wallet for a tip. He lifted his bottle to salute Don and had just taken a swig when a piercingly high voice shrieked from just behind him. The sound startled him so much he choked on his beer and started to cough. He turned, coughing and sputtering, and squinted through his tears at the woman standing behind him.
Auburn hair done up tall, bright green eyes that could be nothing other than colored contact lenses, a pert, upturned nose, and a broad mouth filled with teeth laser-whitened to solar flare level.
Carter’s heart stuttered with surprise and dread as he struggled to clear his airway.
“I saw you walk in and had to come over and see if it was really you!” she exclaimed.
With a final clearing of his throat, Carter managed a smile and said, “Lizzie. Hello! What a treat to see you.”
Lizzie’s smile widened even further and she crossed her arms. It was then Carter noticed she wore what looked like a sports bra with a pair of white wings strapped to her shoulders, and a sheer white shift around her waist that showed off a pair of black panties trimmed with lace.
“As I live and breathe,” Lizzie said with a shake of her head. “Carter the Farter.”
Poke Check by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Chapter One
Erik
In Sweden we have a saying, “Det blir som det blir”.
Loosely translated, it comes out something like “whatever will be, will be”, and despite some missteps along the way, I do believe that everything happens for a reason.
Like me, being here in Pennsylvania, when yesterday I’d been sitting in the yard in a San Diego winter with just a jersey and a thin jacket. Today there was snow. Lots of snow. And it was past cold and on to bitter when the wind caught you the right way.
“You might want to get a better coat,” Emma said helpfully. She was my liaison to get me settled; she’d had me sign lots of forms, allocated keys and a key card, and reeled off a list of rules that apparently all the Railers players adhered to. “Like a thicker coat, maybe.”
You think? I was shivering. The cold had seeped into my bones, and even though she’d explained as she did the tour that the East River Arena, only a few years old, had heating problems that were being fixed, I hoped to hell it wasn’t this cold all the time.
And yes, I know I’m from Sweden, and a hockey player; I know I should be okay with the cold, but this Harrisburg winter was enough to freeze my balls off.
“A coat is on my list,” I said, and gave her my best smile. She grinned back and tilted her head a little, just like my ex had done the night I’d met her, slept with her, and created a new life.
I love women, I love men, and if I’d been on the market then Emma, or indeed that Pete guy who ran security and who’d patted me down when I arrived, would have been on my radar. But I was so not on the market, and there was no way I was getting it on with anyone for a very long time.
My son was my primary goal, that was the truth, and behind him came hockey and winning the Stanley Cup. The pinnacle of hockey excellence, it was that single shining, beautiful, object that every professional hockey player wanted to win.
Not that I really expected the Railers to get it this year; they were an expansion team, new to the NHL, kind of raw, with a lot of potential.
They had a good group of guys in their farm team—young men who were being molded ready to move up to the Railers themselves. I was one of those in that feeder team. Not that I was young; twenty-seven is way past ‘young’ when you have eighteen-year-olds coming in and showing you how it’s done. I’d expected to finish my time with the Carlisle Rush, or another AHL team that would take the chance on me, but no, things had moved so fast, injuries had happened, and here I was, up with the big boys.
And him.
As my agent said, the Railers were an exciting team, a new team, a team that wanted me playing the big games, and boy was I ready for that. I’d been drafted at eighteen, and since then, nine long years, I’d played AHL hockey. Not that that was essentially a bad thing, but still, I wanted to play for the cup. I wanted that ring, and the depth the team was creating was going to enable them to make that run. Hopefully with me hanging on for dear life and not fucking up too much.
“You’re one of those skaters who grow into their skills, their bodies.” That was what my agent pointed out whenever I lost the conviction that I could do any of this. “The boy has become a man,” he had added, because he did that kind of thing where he sounded like Yoda but with the ability to get his words in the right order.
Emma stopped walking, and I nearly crashed into her. So much for my much-vaunted balance and awareness.
“This is one of our defensive coaches,” she said, and waved a hand at a tall blond dude who stepped out of a doorway marked “Coaches”, who you’d have to be a complete idiot not to recognize. “Jared Madsen,” she added, just in case maybe I was one of those skaters who didn’t know the world of people he played in.
“Welcome to the Railers,” Jared said, and extended his hand. A defenseman turned coach, he was also in the middle of some serious issues about who he was dating. I mean, I knew that anyway, but Emma had spent a good thirty minutes challenging my conceptions on life as if she wanted to shake free a certain level of support for the Ten/Jared thing that was going on. She really didn’t need to do that.
A simple, “Love is love,” from me, and she nodded approvingly.
I shook Jared’s hand and attempted a smile, which I hoped encompassed how I felt about him dating a dude, and how it was cool, and I accepted and supported it. Likely, though, given the cold that was rattling my bones, it came out more of a grimace, because his eyebrows raised in question.
“It’s all a bit much at first, new team and all,” Jared said, and released his hold on my hand. He was giving me an out; offering me the chance to explain the half smile.
Best foot forward and all.
“Happy for you and Ten, Coach,” I said, then blustered ahead to qualify the statement. “I like Tennant, he’s a good kid.” Shit. Had calling him “kid” drawn attention to the age difference between Coach Madsen and Tennant? Not that it was that bad, but… “I mean a good forward, good for the team.”
At that, Coach smiled. “Thank you.” He had a clipboard in his hand and a gaggle of kids standing behind him, all peering around him and staring up at me.
“Who’s he?” someone faux-whispered, a young boy, no more than nine. This was clearly some kind of Railers outreach visit, or a school thing, or something like that. I put on my game face.
“Hi guys,” I said, and stepped to one side so they could all see me. “Erik Gunnarsson, right wing.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then all hell broke loose—questions, comments, congratulations…a couple of the kids had even heard of me. Coach Madsen had to kind of corral them into a cohesive group, and you could tell he took the word “coach” to heart, because one word, and like a throng of ducklings they followed him away.
“Down here,” Emma said, and continued to talk as we walked down the long corridor toward the elevators. “The Railers do a lot of outreach in the community, with schools. We have a newly formed sled team, work with several local charities, and have fundraising nights that you’ll be expected to attend.”
“Cool,” I said, for want of something else to say. We’d had charity events in the San Diego Admirals, only they hadn’t been quite as fancy as what I imagined an NHL team set up, like casino nights and puppy adoptions. Being a player wasn’t just about the playing; the charity side, the outreach, they were all vital parts of my life. Back in Sweden as a kid, in my first team, I’d been in charge of fundraising. My gran had always said I could raise money just by using my dimples and curls.
Gran was obviously biased, but she’d been right that I had raised a lot of money.
And believe me, I have always known how to use my dimples and curls.
Emma called the elevator, and we waited in the cold corridor, me pulling down the sleeves of my worn Admirals jersey and her sinking deeper into her furry-hooded coat.
“We have a press release for tomorrow,” she said. “Our social media consultant will want to schedule a meeting with you and suggested we drop by after the tour. That will be Layton Foxx, and I’ll introduce you to him after you’ve got your bearings post-skate.”
“Sure.” I filed away the name. I’d seen the press conference for the guys on the team who were doing the horizontal, but the man who’d orchestrated how it all happened wasn’t someone I knew.
The elevator arrived, and I gestured for Emma to go in first. She smiled at me, although to be fair I could see very little of her face under the fur of her hood. I smiled back and moved to the opposite side of the car. Hands off. No touching. Stay professional. Don’t act available.
All wise words from my gran, my agent, and my best friend Lars. They were the ones helping me pick up the pieces of my life—of being a husband, a father, and of a summer that had changed my life.
“This way,” Emma said, and I followed her out into another corridor. I was seriously going to get lost. Everything was different on this floor. The walls were devoid of posters about the team and instead adorned with printouts of inspirational hockey quotes. The intensity of them grew as we moved closer to the dressing area. Seemed like someone on this team believed in the power of positive thought. Just as we were being told in stark black capitals that the Railers were winners, we reached double doors, and she stopped again. This time the Gunnarsson grace and control of my body played its part well, and I managed to stop in time.
“Your key card will get you into the changing room, and then into the locker room, so you need to have that on you at all times. Otherwise you’ll find yourself locked in the corridor with no way in.”
“Key card. Got it.”
“Try it now.”
I tugged at the card on the lanyard and waved it, as instructed, over the panel.
Ninety-five percent of me desperately hoped it didn’t work. The same percentage that really wanted to have been picked up by an NHL team that wasn’t the Railers. Any team. Even a shitty one that regularly beat my beloved New York Rangers.
Just my luck, it worked, and suddenly I was out of my comfort zone. In there was a team waiting for a new right wing; someone who could shore up their fourth line after they’d lost veteran Marc Gauthier to a long-term lower-body injury.
In there were skaters I knew well: Tennant Rowe, Adler Lockhart, Jens Hedlund, Dieter Lehmann, Lee Addison, fellow Swede Arvid Ulfsson, and the captain Connor Hurleigh, to name but a few. Hell, Anatoly ‘Toly’ Sokolov was in there, and he was a personal hero of mine, not to mention my potential fellow winger on the fourth line.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “I know it can be overwhelming.”
“I’m not overwhelmed. I’m excited,” I reassured her.
I’m desperate to get on the ice for the Railers all while avoiding a big Russian.
“I’m just cold,” I added, because she was probably reacting to my pale face or my shivering and taking it as nerves.
I wasn’t nervous about the hockey or the players; that was my job, and I could do my job.
There was only one thing that was causing the butterflies in my chest and the nausea that threatened.
Terror at coming face to face with Stanislav Lyamin. Stan, the man I’d loved and then thrown away last year. One conditioning camp, one long summer, and one affair I would never forget. I’d fallen in love, with the big goalie who spoke no English except for what he’d picked up in popular culture. We’d fallen for each other without much in the way of talking. Who does that kind of thing?
And Stan? He was the starting goalie for the Harrisburg Railers, and he was in that room.
“Det blir som det blir,” I murmured. “Whatever will be, will be.”
Stan will ignore me, or hit me, or look at me with those tragically beautiful gray eyes.
“Sorry?”
“Superstition,” I said quickly. People expected hockey players to do some weird things for good luck, and she nodded that she understood. The locker room door was also locked, accessed with the card, and after waving the card at the reader, we were in.
Noise died. What had been a cacophony of shouts, laughter and talking when I pushed the door open stopped dead. There was me thinking I could walk in to maybe a small group of the team, a subset of the entire team, maybe meet them a few at a time. But no, I wasn’t going to be so lucky.
Everyone was in there, and one by one they acknowledged me with a handshake if they were close enough, or a welcoming nod if not.
Captain Connor Hurleigh crossed to me, shook my hand. “Welcome to the Railers,” he said.
I have mad respect for Connor. Coming in as the captain of an expansion team is a challenge, and one that he’d managed, getting the new team to the playoffs last year. I had so much to say to him, so many questions, but all I could do was look for the one person who I couldn’t immediately see in the room. Stan.
“Sorry about the lack of heating back here,” Connor continued. “They said it would be fixed by three for the game tonight. You ready for this?”
I was half listening. Stan was seriously nowhere to be seen. And really, you couldn’t miss the six-four giant mountain of a man, particularly in his goalie gear. His size had been one of the things that had attracted me. I’m not small, but I top out at six feet and carry thirty pounds less than he does. When we’d met in Sweden, all I’d been able to think had been that he was gorgeous, and sexy, and I wanted him.
So I’d worked harder on chasing Stan than I had on my conditioning.
I’d had Stan in my bed, and my heart, for the whole camp. I’d fallen in love, and then I’d been a coward. Or a hero? Who knew what I’d been; all that remained was that I’d thrown him away.
“Okay, then, let’s get you suited up,” Connor said, and his words pulled me back. Had I been standing there like an idiot? He didn’t seem pissed at me, so maybe I hadn’t fucked up on my first morning there. “Your stuff is in the stall. We put you with Toly.”
Anatoly “Toly” Sokolov, fellow winger and future friend, I hoped, had a welcoming smile on his face, and talked to me the entire time I stripped and changed, pulling on the practice jersey of my new team. Practice jerseys were black and white, but the logo of a train was on all of them. Mine was black, the same as Toly’s, and he fist-bumped me when I finished lacing my skates, thoughtfully available ready for me in my stall.
Stan was probably out on the ice. I could picture him now, graceful despite his size and his equipment. He’d be in net, maybe working on his stretches, or his blocker side, which he always complained was weaker than glove side. He’d be concentrating hard, and he wouldn’t even notice I was there.
What was I to the big Russian anyway? A holiday fling? He’d walked away from me just as hard as I’d walked away from him. He understood we couldn’t be together. He had a life that fit his NHL dreams.
I’d married Freja because it had been the right thing to do; we had a baby together. Even post break-up, my family thought I was managing wonderfully with my color-coded schedules and my nanny, but who was I kidding? My life wasn’t together. My life was actually all kinds of messed up, and the fear of facing Stan for the first time since last summer wasn’t helping at all.
I had a soon-to-be-official ex-wife, a new baby that I was the primary carer for, a nanny who saved my life on a daily basis, extensive debt, an empty rented apartment that needed filling, and a shark of a lawyer on speed-dial.
Today, here in this place, I had a Russian I needed to face.
I hit the ice, the smooth glide of skates on the cold stuff enough to snap me out of my misery as I pushed into lazy circles. Still no sign of Stan, and the backup goalie was out, leaning on his net and shooting the breeze with one of the coaches.
There was some joking, stretches, horsing around, and I began to take note of the rink, and the seating, and the huge jumbotron above my head.
Then the air shifted, or there was a noise, or I felt something. I don’t know what it was exactly, but I knew he was there. I was still attuned to him, like he’d never left my heart or head at all. I just knew.
Connor patted my arm. “And this is Stan, our starting goalie.”
Erik
In Sweden we have a saying, “Det blir som det blir”.
Loosely translated, it comes out something like “whatever will be, will be”, and despite some missteps along the way, I do believe that everything happens for a reason.
Like me, being here in Pennsylvania, when yesterday I’d been sitting in the yard in a San Diego winter with just a jersey and a thin jacket. Today there was snow. Lots of snow. And it was past cold and on to bitter when the wind caught you the right way.
“You might want to get a better coat,” Emma said helpfully. She was my liaison to get me settled; she’d had me sign lots of forms, allocated keys and a key card, and reeled off a list of rules that apparently all the Railers players adhered to. “Like a thicker coat, maybe.”
You think? I was shivering. The cold had seeped into my bones, and even though she’d explained as she did the tour that the East River Arena, only a few years old, had heating problems that were being fixed, I hoped to hell it wasn’t this cold all the time.
And yes, I know I’m from Sweden, and a hockey player; I know I should be okay with the cold, but this Harrisburg winter was enough to freeze my balls off.
“A coat is on my list,” I said, and gave her my best smile. She grinned back and tilted her head a little, just like my ex had done the night I’d met her, slept with her, and created a new life.
I love women, I love men, and if I’d been on the market then Emma, or indeed that Pete guy who ran security and who’d patted me down when I arrived, would have been on my radar. But I was so not on the market, and there was no way I was getting it on with anyone for a very long time.
My son was my primary goal, that was the truth, and behind him came hockey and winning the Stanley Cup. The pinnacle of hockey excellence, it was that single shining, beautiful, object that every professional hockey player wanted to win.
Not that I really expected the Railers to get it this year; they were an expansion team, new to the NHL, kind of raw, with a lot of potential.
They had a good group of guys in their farm team—young men who were being molded ready to move up to the Railers themselves. I was one of those in that feeder team. Not that I was young; twenty-seven is way past ‘young’ when you have eighteen-year-olds coming in and showing you how it’s done. I’d expected to finish my time with the Carlisle Rush, or another AHL team that would take the chance on me, but no, things had moved so fast, injuries had happened, and here I was, up with the big boys.
And him.
As my agent said, the Railers were an exciting team, a new team, a team that wanted me playing the big games, and boy was I ready for that. I’d been drafted at eighteen, and since then, nine long years, I’d played AHL hockey. Not that that was essentially a bad thing, but still, I wanted to play for the cup. I wanted that ring, and the depth the team was creating was going to enable them to make that run. Hopefully with me hanging on for dear life and not fucking up too much.
“You’re one of those skaters who grow into their skills, their bodies.” That was what my agent pointed out whenever I lost the conviction that I could do any of this. “The boy has become a man,” he had added, because he did that kind of thing where he sounded like Yoda but with the ability to get his words in the right order.
Emma stopped walking, and I nearly crashed into her. So much for my much-vaunted balance and awareness.
“This is one of our defensive coaches,” she said, and waved a hand at a tall blond dude who stepped out of a doorway marked “Coaches”, who you’d have to be a complete idiot not to recognize. “Jared Madsen,” she added, just in case maybe I was one of those skaters who didn’t know the world of people he played in.
“Welcome to the Railers,” Jared said, and extended his hand. A defenseman turned coach, he was also in the middle of some serious issues about who he was dating. I mean, I knew that anyway, but Emma had spent a good thirty minutes challenging my conceptions on life as if she wanted to shake free a certain level of support for the Ten/Jared thing that was going on. She really didn’t need to do that.
A simple, “Love is love,” from me, and she nodded approvingly.
I shook Jared’s hand and attempted a smile, which I hoped encompassed how I felt about him dating a dude, and how it was cool, and I accepted and supported it. Likely, though, given the cold that was rattling my bones, it came out more of a grimace, because his eyebrows raised in question.
“It’s all a bit much at first, new team and all,” Jared said, and released his hold on my hand. He was giving me an out; offering me the chance to explain the half smile.
Best foot forward and all.
“Happy for you and Ten, Coach,” I said, then blustered ahead to qualify the statement. “I like Tennant, he’s a good kid.” Shit. Had calling him “kid” drawn attention to the age difference between Coach Madsen and Tennant? Not that it was that bad, but… “I mean a good forward, good for the team.”
At that, Coach smiled. “Thank you.” He had a clipboard in his hand and a gaggle of kids standing behind him, all peering around him and staring up at me.
“Who’s he?” someone faux-whispered, a young boy, no more than nine. This was clearly some kind of Railers outreach visit, or a school thing, or something like that. I put on my game face.
“Hi guys,” I said, and stepped to one side so they could all see me. “Erik Gunnarsson, right wing.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then all hell broke loose—questions, comments, congratulations…a couple of the kids had even heard of me. Coach Madsen had to kind of corral them into a cohesive group, and you could tell he took the word “coach” to heart, because one word, and like a throng of ducklings they followed him away.
“Down here,” Emma said, and continued to talk as we walked down the long corridor toward the elevators. “The Railers do a lot of outreach in the community, with schools. We have a newly formed sled team, work with several local charities, and have fundraising nights that you’ll be expected to attend.”
“Cool,” I said, for want of something else to say. We’d had charity events in the San Diego Admirals, only they hadn’t been quite as fancy as what I imagined an NHL team set up, like casino nights and puppy adoptions. Being a player wasn’t just about the playing; the charity side, the outreach, they were all vital parts of my life. Back in Sweden as a kid, in my first team, I’d been in charge of fundraising. My gran had always said I could raise money just by using my dimples and curls.
Gran was obviously biased, but she’d been right that I had raised a lot of money.
And believe me, I have always known how to use my dimples and curls.
Emma called the elevator, and we waited in the cold corridor, me pulling down the sleeves of my worn Admirals jersey and her sinking deeper into her furry-hooded coat.
“We have a press release for tomorrow,” she said. “Our social media consultant will want to schedule a meeting with you and suggested we drop by after the tour. That will be Layton Foxx, and I’ll introduce you to him after you’ve got your bearings post-skate.”
“Sure.” I filed away the name. I’d seen the press conference for the guys on the team who were doing the horizontal, but the man who’d orchestrated how it all happened wasn’t someone I knew.
The elevator arrived, and I gestured for Emma to go in first. She smiled at me, although to be fair I could see very little of her face under the fur of her hood. I smiled back and moved to the opposite side of the car. Hands off. No touching. Stay professional. Don’t act available.
All wise words from my gran, my agent, and my best friend Lars. They were the ones helping me pick up the pieces of my life—of being a husband, a father, and of a summer that had changed my life.
“This way,” Emma said, and I followed her out into another corridor. I was seriously going to get lost. Everything was different on this floor. The walls were devoid of posters about the team and instead adorned with printouts of inspirational hockey quotes. The intensity of them grew as we moved closer to the dressing area. Seemed like someone on this team believed in the power of positive thought. Just as we were being told in stark black capitals that the Railers were winners, we reached double doors, and she stopped again. This time the Gunnarsson grace and control of my body played its part well, and I managed to stop in time.
“Your key card will get you into the changing room, and then into the locker room, so you need to have that on you at all times. Otherwise you’ll find yourself locked in the corridor with no way in.”
“Key card. Got it.”
“Try it now.”
I tugged at the card on the lanyard and waved it, as instructed, over the panel.
Ninety-five percent of me desperately hoped it didn’t work. The same percentage that really wanted to have been picked up by an NHL team that wasn’t the Railers. Any team. Even a shitty one that regularly beat my beloved New York Rangers.
Just my luck, it worked, and suddenly I was out of my comfort zone. In there was a team waiting for a new right wing; someone who could shore up their fourth line after they’d lost veteran Marc Gauthier to a long-term lower-body injury.
In there were skaters I knew well: Tennant Rowe, Adler Lockhart, Jens Hedlund, Dieter Lehmann, Lee Addison, fellow Swede Arvid Ulfsson, and the captain Connor Hurleigh, to name but a few. Hell, Anatoly ‘Toly’ Sokolov was in there, and he was a personal hero of mine, not to mention my potential fellow winger on the fourth line.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “I know it can be overwhelming.”
“I’m not overwhelmed. I’m excited,” I reassured her.
I’m desperate to get on the ice for the Railers all while avoiding a big Russian.
“I’m just cold,” I added, because she was probably reacting to my pale face or my shivering and taking it as nerves.
I wasn’t nervous about the hockey or the players; that was my job, and I could do my job.
There was only one thing that was causing the butterflies in my chest and the nausea that threatened.
Terror at coming face to face with Stanislav Lyamin. Stan, the man I’d loved and then thrown away last year. One conditioning camp, one long summer, and one affair I would never forget. I’d fallen in love, with the big goalie who spoke no English except for what he’d picked up in popular culture. We’d fallen for each other without much in the way of talking. Who does that kind of thing?
And Stan? He was the starting goalie for the Harrisburg Railers, and he was in that room.
“Det blir som det blir,” I murmured. “Whatever will be, will be.”
Stan will ignore me, or hit me, or look at me with those tragically beautiful gray eyes.
“Sorry?”
“Superstition,” I said quickly. People expected hockey players to do some weird things for good luck, and she nodded that she understood. The locker room door was also locked, accessed with the card, and after waving the card at the reader, we were in.
Noise died. What had been a cacophony of shouts, laughter and talking when I pushed the door open stopped dead. There was me thinking I could walk in to maybe a small group of the team, a subset of the entire team, maybe meet them a few at a time. But no, I wasn’t going to be so lucky.
Everyone was in there, and one by one they acknowledged me with a handshake if they were close enough, or a welcoming nod if not.
Captain Connor Hurleigh crossed to me, shook my hand. “Welcome to the Railers,” he said.
I have mad respect for Connor. Coming in as the captain of an expansion team is a challenge, and one that he’d managed, getting the new team to the playoffs last year. I had so much to say to him, so many questions, but all I could do was look for the one person who I couldn’t immediately see in the room. Stan.
“Sorry about the lack of heating back here,” Connor continued. “They said it would be fixed by three for the game tonight. You ready for this?”
I was half listening. Stan was seriously nowhere to be seen. And really, you couldn’t miss the six-four giant mountain of a man, particularly in his goalie gear. His size had been one of the things that had attracted me. I’m not small, but I top out at six feet and carry thirty pounds less than he does. When we’d met in Sweden, all I’d been able to think had been that he was gorgeous, and sexy, and I wanted him.
So I’d worked harder on chasing Stan than I had on my conditioning.
I’d had Stan in my bed, and my heart, for the whole camp. I’d fallen in love, and then I’d been a coward. Or a hero? Who knew what I’d been; all that remained was that I’d thrown him away.
“Okay, then, let’s get you suited up,” Connor said, and his words pulled me back. Had I been standing there like an idiot? He didn’t seem pissed at me, so maybe I hadn’t fucked up on my first morning there. “Your stuff is in the stall. We put you with Toly.”
Anatoly “Toly” Sokolov, fellow winger and future friend, I hoped, had a welcoming smile on his face, and talked to me the entire time I stripped and changed, pulling on the practice jersey of my new team. Practice jerseys were black and white, but the logo of a train was on all of them. Mine was black, the same as Toly’s, and he fist-bumped me when I finished lacing my skates, thoughtfully available ready for me in my stall.
Stan was probably out on the ice. I could picture him now, graceful despite his size and his equipment. He’d be in net, maybe working on his stretches, or his blocker side, which he always complained was weaker than glove side. He’d be concentrating hard, and he wouldn’t even notice I was there.
What was I to the big Russian anyway? A holiday fling? He’d walked away from me just as hard as I’d walked away from him. He understood we couldn’t be together. He had a life that fit his NHL dreams.
I’d married Freja because it had been the right thing to do; we had a baby together. Even post break-up, my family thought I was managing wonderfully with my color-coded schedules and my nanny, but who was I kidding? My life wasn’t together. My life was actually all kinds of messed up, and the fear of facing Stan for the first time since last summer wasn’t helping at all.
I had a soon-to-be-official ex-wife, a new baby that I was the primary carer for, a nanny who saved my life on a daily basis, extensive debt, an empty rented apartment that needed filling, and a shark of a lawyer on speed-dial.
Today, here in this place, I had a Russian I needed to face.
I hit the ice, the smooth glide of skates on the cold stuff enough to snap me out of my misery as I pushed into lazy circles. Still no sign of Stan, and the backup goalie was out, leaning on his net and shooting the breeze with one of the coaches.
There was some joking, stretches, horsing around, and I began to take note of the rink, and the seating, and the huge jumbotron above my head.
Then the air shifted, or there was a noise, or I felt something. I don’t know what it was exactly, but I knew he was there. I was still attuned to him, like he’d never left my heart or head at all. I just knew.
Connor patted my arm. “And this is Stan, our starting goalie.”
The Alpha's Santa Kissed Omega by Lorelei M Hart
Chapter One
Gustav Van Dijk
“Papa, I’m scared.”
The words made my heavy heart even more laden. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see my not-quite five-year old in his booster seat, looking out the window. His little cheeks were pale, and his eyelids fluttered, a sure sign he was about to cry. Dane, named after my omega who died giving birth to him, was not responding as well as I’d hoped to our move to the United States.
With the holidays coming soon, I’d decided to wait until January to enroll him in kindergarten, and my own schedule with my new company would be light until then. However, I did need to work online a few hours each afternoon and couldn’t do that easily with a fretful preschooler. Also, my son might adjust better if he made some friends. But I’d seen no other children playing near our rental house, so how?
We’d been strolling down Main Street the day before when we came upon a window covered in gift wrap and a big bow. Dane’s mood lifted and he bounced, asking, “Papa, is that a present?”
A chuckle preceded a pair of men emerging from the store, arms around one another’s waists. “It is indeed, little man,” said one of them. “A surprise present for the town, to be revealed next Saturday. I’m Liam by the way and this is my candy shop, Sugar.” He shook my hand then waved toward the other man. “And this is Edison, my mate.”
“Nice to meet you both,” I replied. “I am Gustav, Gus for short, and this is my son, Dane. So a surprise, huh?”
“We like to do a special window for each holiday, make it really special.”
The other man, Edison, rolled his eyes. “My mate has a flair for the dramatic, but he does run the very best candy store in town.”
“Edison!” protested Liam. “It’s the only candy store in town.”
His mate poked him in the ribs. “It’s the best in the country, but you already know that, and I refuse to contribute to your ego.” A twinkle in his eye offset his words. “Would it be all right to give your son a little something from the store?”
Dane’s smile stretched his chubby cheeks. Since it was the first sign of his happy self I’d seen in weeks, I nodded. “I guess so, if he promises to eat all his broccoli at dinner.”
“Papa, I love the little trees,” Dane protested. “Maybe you should make me eat lima beans instead.” He squinted his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “They’re yucky.”
Liam reached behind him into the store. “I think your son is quite the honest fellow.” He drew out a Santa Claus sucker, dark chocolate with a red suit and white beard. “Here you go!”
“It’s like Sinterklaas.” Dane closed his little fist around the stick and beamed at his new friend. “Thank you, candy-store man.”
“That’s Mr. Liam,” I chided softly.
“Thank you, Mr. Liam,” he echoed. “I promise to eat my broccoli—even if it’s lima beans.”
“You’re welcome,” the man said. “Now, I don’t offer this often, but would you like just the teensiest peek at our window?”
“Or even a bigger one!” Dane thrust out his chest.
Edison tilted his head. “I don’t know, Liam. Do you think he can keep a secret?”
“I can, I can!” my son shouted. “I never even told Daddy I broke his cup.”
A brief silence stretched before the two men burst into laughter.
“Dane!” I chided. “We’ll have to talk about that later. But I think you’ve made your point.
“Okay, little man.” Liam led him into the store and stopped right inside. He tugged back a red velvet curtain and let Dane duck his head under for a few seconds before saying, “Okay, that’s it.”
Dane backed out and straightened, his cheeks flushed, mouth in an O. “I won’t tell anybody! Not even my papa.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Liam beat me to it. “I think we all agree you shouldn’t have secrets from your papa, so you can tell him, but only in very private, okay? We don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
Dane’s head bobbed. “Okay, Mr. Liam. And thank you for the candy and the secret.”
“Do I detect an accent?” Liam asked. “You aren’t from Holland, are you?” Although nearly everyone learned English in school back home, we by no means sounded like we were born in the USA.
“Exactly right. We just arrived last week.”
“Staying long?”
I flicked a glance at my son, who was busy ripping the plastic off his Santa sucker. “Permanently, if all goes well. I accepted a job here.”
“What do you do?”
“Computer coding.”
“Wow. And why did you choose to come here? I’m sure with your skills you can work almost anywhere.”
I hesitated, and he blushed. “What an ass. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s fine.” I didn’t mind answering. Dane had failed at plastic removal, and Edison was now assisting, so I took a step away and the other alpha followed. I lowered my voice. “I was widowed a couple of years ago, and I wanted a change of scenery. Dane barely remembers his other dad, but everywhere we went, people brought him up and it wasn’t good for either of us. So...when this opportunity came along, I decided to give it a shot.”
“Have any friends here in town?” he asked, without the sympathetic tone I’d learned to hate.
“No, not yet.”
“You do now.” He gave me a pat on the arm. “Come by and visit anytime.”
“That means a lot.”
“That’s okay. We have a family ourselves, three and growing. We’ll have to do a playdate.”
“That would be wonderful. Hey, since you are also a dad...do you know of a good babysitter? I need someone for a few hours in the afternoons.”
“Better than that.” He called to his omega, “Edison, do you have any openings at My Brother, My Sister for the afternoon program?”
He did. And Dane had been wildly excited for the past two days, but nerves had gotten hold of him once he was actually on the way.
I braced myself for what was to come.
Carbon & Ash by Chris Owen
The evening sun is warm on his back as Myles sends his team onto the field for the final inning. He watches them go, little legs full of far less energy after almost an hour of playing, but he can see their eyes still bright with interest and enthusiasm; it's just the limits of being six and seven years old that makes them slower. He knows how they feel -- the pull of the game warring with the limits of the body, the need to cram as much fun into a day as they can.
Myles makes sure that Joey stays to the right of the outfield instead of drifting off to the left where Matty Jones is. If those two get too close together they won't pay close attention to the game and will start looking for bugs again between batters. It's usually not a problem, but with exhaustion and the fleeting attention span of seven year olds, it would be far too easy for them to miss a play and descend into emotional meltdown. He knows about that, too, frustration and disappointment taking the joy out of baseball.
One of his charges, Sherry, is going even slower than the rest and Myles can see her feet kicking up little storms of dust as she crosses the diamond to second base, so he goes out after her. "Almost done, kiddo," he says, crouching down to meet her eyes. "Think you can catch that ball for me?"
She nods firmly, squinting a little as the sun shines on her upturned face. "Yes, Coach," she promises. "But I'm hungry."
"I'm sure you are," he says sympathetically. "More than an hour since supper, right? There's apples and oranges for you guys after the game."
She smiles and nods again. "Yum."
"You betcha." Myles stands up and pats her shoulder, being careful to keep the touch light and clearly a Good Touch. "You can do it," he tells her.
She looks up at him with six-year-old wisdom, her eyes clearly saying he's crazy. "Of course I can."
Myles makes sure that Joey stays to the right of the outfield instead of drifting off to the left where Matty Jones is. If those two get too close together they won't pay close attention to the game and will start looking for bugs again between batters. It's usually not a problem, but with exhaustion and the fleeting attention span of seven year olds, it would be far too easy for them to miss a play and descend into emotional meltdown. He knows about that, too, frustration and disappointment taking the joy out of baseball.
One of his charges, Sherry, is going even slower than the rest and Myles can see her feet kicking up little storms of dust as she crosses the diamond to second base, so he goes out after her. "Almost done, kiddo," he says, crouching down to meet her eyes. "Think you can catch that ball for me?"
She nods firmly, squinting a little as the sun shines on her upturned face. "Yes, Coach," she promises. "But I'm hungry."
"I'm sure you are," he says sympathetically. "More than an hour since supper, right? There's apples and oranges for you guys after the game."
She smiles and nods again. "Yum."
"You betcha." Myles stands up and pats her shoulder, being careful to keep the touch light and clearly a Good Touch. "You can do it," he tells her.
She looks up at him with six-year-old wisdom, her eyes clearly saying he's crazy. "Of course I can."
Jared by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
Chapter One
Gideon tapped the paperwork on his desk with a very expensive-looking pen. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate here, but do you think maybe you should have considered the consequences before you acted?”
Jared’s chest tightened because sitting in Gideon’s office at Bryant & Waites reminded him of sitting in the principal’s office. He felt as if a ton of trouble was heading his way, and it didn’t help that Gideon was stony-faced.
“I didn’t know it was going to happen,” Jared defended himself.
“But you had to know it might happen.”
Jared didn’t have a comeback for that at all.
Gideon sighed heavily. “Exactly who do you think will be covering the repair bill?” he asked with absolute calm.
Jared had seen the amount the hotel was asking for, it was the wrong side of two thousand dollars, and even though he’d known that question was coming, he winced. He hadn’t expected the ex-husband of his booked date would cause that much damage to a hotel room, but Gideon was right—maybe he should have thought about it more. He’d been aware of the volatile back story between the ex and the man who’d hired Jared, hence the need to approach Bryant & Waites in the first place, but Jared had never imagined in his wildest dreams he’d be in the middle of a marital feud. Let alone see so much chaos done by one man in a hotel room.
“He looked so sad.”
Gideon raised a single eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
Shit. “The ex-husband—Bill, his name is Bill—well, he looked sad. He came to the door and when he explained how much he loved Yan, that’s the name of the guy who hired me.”
“I know who Yan is, Jared.”
“Well, I thought Bill was going to cry.”
“So, let’s get this clear. You get hired to be Yan’s date who explicitly said his ex was an asshole. Said ex then cries and you, in your infinite wisdom, let him into the suite that we paid for. The same suite for which we’re now on the hook to cover damages?”
“It’s just… I couldn’t leave a crying man out in the corridor. That wouldn’t be right, and I thought about the company policy of caring.” Jared hoped that would vindicate him, but a nerve twitched next to Gideon’s right eye.
“Company policy is to look after the client.”
“I could see in Bill’s expression that he was missing Yan, and Yan said some things that made me think that he actually loved his ex, and that—”
“And then what happened?” Gideon interrupted.
“Well, then I went down to find Yan, who was waiting for me at dinner—”
“And you left Yan’s ex-husband in the suite. On his own.”
“I thought it was for the best. I’m sorry and I hope we’re insured?” Jared hoped that was true because he couldn’t cover the cost. God, the thought that he might have to find money for a broken television, not to mention the bedclothes shredded on the floor, made him come out in hives. He was only just covering rent and costs for his course, and he had the typical issues of any twenty-eight-year-old late to education where it was a struggle to make ends meet. He’d fucked up a few too many times and he could feel it in his bones that he was on the edge of not being put forward for jobs, or maybe being fired outright.
“That’s not the point Jared, it’s just one thing after another, not to mention the other issues marked in your file,” Gideon continued.
“Which issues?” Jared couldn’t recall anything in the last couple of months. There again he hadn’t seen Gideon since Christmas because Rowan had dealt with the last booking. He didn’t have to be studying psychology to see that Gideon was tense and wondering how to word what he wanted to say. Stress caused Gideon to hunch his shoulders, and Jared felt guilty for what he’d managed to do, but surely Gideon would weigh the problems against the repeat business that Jared had brought in over the past three years. He was good at his job, and he had to remember that and persuade Gideon not to fire him.
He didn’t want to leave.
“New Year and the emergency exit call you made to Rowan to get away from a foursome for a start.”
Oh, that issue. “It wasn’t exactly a foursome. We all had our clothes on, and one of the men was all upset about his dog, and he cried, and… it was just a big misunderstanding.”
“Jared,” he opened a file on his desk. “One missing advent swan, a narrowly avoided foursome, a destroyed room, and that’s in less than three months. If it wasn’t for the positive feedback and the fact that all three of those bookings gave you glowing reviews, despite the issues—”
“Am I fired? I’m sorry, I didn’t know that the swan belonged to the hotel, otherwise when the girl from the table next to me started sobbing I wouldn’t have gotten involved and opened the gate to let it out.”
“No, you’re not fired, but Jared, you have to stop trying to make everything better for everyone and open us up to situations that cost money or reputation. So, this next booking…”
“Is my last chance?” Jared finished and remained hopeful that Gideon wasn’t going to get rid of him.
“End of May we’ve just booked a graduation event for one of our new clients, she’s a CEO and won’t take any drama, tell me I’m not going to get a report that any shit has hit any one of the fans in any room you are in.”
Jared held up a hand. “I solemnly swear.”
Gideon muttered something under his breath and then pressed the intercom. “Rowan, can you bring in the ZenTech Industries file?” There was static, and Gideon frowned at the machine as if it had personally hurt him. “Rowan?”
Just as Gideon stood to find his errant PA, Rowan’s voice came through loud and clear. “I’d love to come in, babe…sir, but we have a slight issue.”
“What kind of issue?”
Despite the ominous mention of an issue, Jared watched Gideon smile at the sound of Rowan’s voice, and how it softened his stern expression—that made it seem less probable that Gideon was going to kill Jared with his stare. It hadn’t taken long for the grapevine to supply the juicy details that Gideon had realized his feelings for Rowan and had spent an interesting Christmas break in Maine. Fifteen months later and they had the same loved-up glow even now, although they attempted to keep things professional around clients, the guys who worked for Gideon could see the change. He was softer, happier, and his hard edges had been smoothed away.
I want that. I want a man who will rub on my hard edges.Jared bit his lip to stop laughing out loud at the thought, and instead assumed the pose of someone who was absolutely a complete professional.
“I think you might want to come out here,” Rowan offered, and Gideon left the room. Unable to do much else, Jared went to the window, looking down at the people hurrying past on Stuyvesant Street, clearly on a mission to go somewhere, along with the tourist types taking photos of the brownstones. The offices of Bryant & Waites were discreet, with a simple brass plaque explaining who they were, but nothing about what they did. The New York day was March-chilled, with blue skies and everyone still bundled up in coats, but spring was promised along with looming exam deadlines.
After this year he had one more semester, and then he was done with the first part of his education, his degree in psychology assured—as long as he didn’t fuck that up as much as he kept messing up his bookings with Bryant & Waites. At least he was good at psychology and it had taken him years to save up to start his degree, a succession of shitty jobs building his pot of money as he lived in his parents’ basement. Now he was nearing the end of stage one in his career, and ready to move onto his work placements.
“Okay where were we?” Gideon came back into the room, took a seat, and ruffled files, which was Jared’s cue to sit down again.
“Is everything okay?”
“Rowan is dealing with it.”
“You agreed you weren’t going to fire me,” Jared reminded him, hoping to get Gideon to crack a smile, but all he did was frown. Not going well.
“No firing. Not today anyway. So, the CEO of ZenTech Industry is a woman called Elisa…”
The rest of the short meeting blurred into details and dates, and by the time Jared left he had a new booking firmly fixed after his exams, which meant he had time to study and get his head straight. No more messing up bookings, no more swans, or ex-husbands, or unforeseen foursomes. When he got out to reception Rowan was standing at the front door staring at something beyond.
“I didn’t get fired,” Jared announced with pride, but Rowan just huffed and didn’t move from the door. “What’s up?”
“There’s a kid on our steps,” Rowan muttered, “and he said his dad was coming but that was ten minutes ago and no sign of the dad.” He shrugged into his coat. “I’m going to get him in and call the cops—a kid that age shouldn’t be on his own. Poor boy is all upset about his dad, and something about his mom. He came in trying to hire a boyfriend.”
“For real?”
“This is ridiculous, Gideon said to watch him and wait for the dad, but it’s not sitting right with me. I’ve tried to bring the kid inside, but the last time I asked he refused to move. I’m going to sit there with him.”
“You want me to talk to him?” Jared didn’t know where that came from, but he could see Rowan was upset and worried, and Jared had slipped easily into his super-helpful mode without even realizing.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m on it.”
“Good luck, shout if you need me.”
Jared zipped his coat and headed out.
Three steps down and he drew level with the kid. “Hey,” he murmured so as not to scare him.
The boy glanced up at him, around ten or so, dark hair sticking out from a beanie, wearing a thick green coat, jeans, and Nikes. He hugged a dark notebook and was on the verge of tears.
My kryptonite.
The boy gave him a tremulous smile. “Hi.”
“What ya doin’, buddy?”
“Sitting.”
Jared considered what to do next, and none of the options included walking off and leaving the kid. At least the March snows had melted away, and the boy wouldn’t be freezing, but still, he was alone.
“What’s your name?”
“Luka.”
“Hey, Luka, I’m Jared.” He offered a fist to bump, and Luka didn’t leave him hanging, his notebook slipping. He caught it and then stared back up at Jared.
“Do you work in there?” he asked.
Jared caught the glint of interest in dark eyes. “Yes. Do you work around here too?”
“I’m only eleven,” he scoffed.
“How about school then?”
“It finished at three.”
“And you thought sitting on a step in the cold was a good idea to pass the time.”
“I’m not cold.” He shivered a little and exposed the lie for what it was.
“Where are your folks?” Jared wondered if Rowan was right and they should take Luka into the office, or just go straight to calling the cops, because there was no way he or Rowan were leaving him sitting here.
“Dad’s at work but I had to come here and see you.”
“Me?” Jared couldn’t recall having met the kid, but there was no doubting Luka’s conviction.
“Not just you, all of you. My dad works a lot, running the bar, and he’s always looking after me, or working, and since my mom died…” He cleared his throat, the words difficult to say. Compassion flooded Jared and he edged a little closer to Luka, offering non-verbal support where he could. “I want him to have a friend, and I want him to go on a date, and it doesn’t matter if it’s a girl or boy, because my Auntie Lee says he’s bri-sextual.”
Bri-sextual?Jared folded his arms and leaned against the stair railing.
“So, I came here to get one for him, but they said that my dad would need to go in, and they wanted me to stay so they could call the cops. But I don’t need to be arrested. Plus, that man, he gave me a card, said Dad could call the number on it if he wanted, but I can’t tell Dad he needs to go in to get a friend, ’cause he’d kill me, not for real, but he’d be angry, and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you have your dad’s number?”
“No,” Luka said, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Jared read Luka’s lie—this kid was transparent. “Is there someone waiting at home for you? What’s your address?”
“I forget. Look, can I read you something?” Luka asked with a tinge of hope in his voice.
“Once you give me your address, then sure.”
“How about I read this and then give you my address.”
Jared couldn’t help his snort of laughter or admiring that Luka was a fierce negotiator. “Go on then.”
Luka took off his gloves and fiddled with a lock, and then opened it to pages filled with scribbles and doodles. Clearly it was a life journal of some sort and could well hold Luka’s hopes and dreams.
“Dear Mr. or Mrs. Bryant & Waites,” Luka began to read, and then pointed up at the plaque on the building. “I don’t know their real names, so I wrote that.”
“Good call,” Jared praised him.
Luka beamed. “Dear Mr. or Mrs. Bryant & Waites, my Auntie Lee said that you let people borrow boyfriends, and I want one for my dad. It’s his birthday next month and I think it would be a nice present because he’s very lonely and works awfully hard, and he’s always worried about me and I don’t know why because I am the best son. I would be kind to a borrowed boyfriend. I wouldn’t make a lot of noise, and I would stay over at Auntie Lee’s so Dad and his new friend could watch a movie or eat steak.” He glanced up at Jared. “Dad loves steak.”
“Me too.”
“Right, so, eat a steak… okay… thank you very much, love me. I didn’t write me, I wrote Luka.”
“Of course you did.”
“But when I went in there and showed them this they started saying they were calling the police, and one of them was all sappy and patting my head, and I don’t want that, I want a boyfriend for Dad, and I want him to smile again.”
“How about we take you home and talk about this later.”
Luka ignored Jared and instead turned to the back of the journal and pulled out a small plastic bag full of coins and notes. “I have thirty-three dollars and fifty-nine cents to buy a friend for Dad. Is that what you do?”
“What’s your address, Luka?”
“Is it enough money?” He was persistent for sure.
“Address first.”
Luka shrank into his coat, his enthusiasm visibly leaving him, and he shut the journal. Then gave the street name and number. “I go stay with Auntie Lee when Dad’s working. She’s our neighbor.” He stood and with his journal gripped hard, he took the final steps down. “Thank you anyway,” he finished.
Jared was left with a decision to make. An easy one.
He sent a thumbs up to Rowan, then indicated he was going with Luka, and then followed him. Walking Luka wouldn’t take him far out of his way, and as soon as he saw Luka safely back then he’d head home. He fell into step with Luka. What should he talk about? He thought about the few things Luka had mentioned. His mom was dead? That’s what he’d said, right? And his dad ran a bar? They walked for a while and before Jared got around to breaking the silence, to talk some more, someone shouted Luka’s name.
“I’m dead,” Luka groaned. “That’s my dad.”
Hank EdwardsHank Edwards has been writing gay romantic fiction for more than twenty years. He has published over thirty novels and dozens of short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romantic comedy, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy.
He has written a number of series such as the funny and spooky Critter Catchers, Old West historical horror Venom Valley Series, suspenseful Up to Trouble series, and the very erotic and very funny Fluffers, Inc., He is also part of the shared universe Williamsville Inn series of contemporary gay romance books that feature stories by Brigham Vaughn as well. He's written a YA urban fantasy gay romance series called The Town of Superstition, which is published under the pen name R. G. Thomas.
No matter what genre he writes, Hank likes to keep things steamy, kind of sassy, and heartfelt. He was born and still lives in a northwest suburb of the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan.
RJ ScottWriting love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee.
(Not necessarily in that order.)
She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
Lorelei M HartLorelei M. Hart is the cowriting team of USA Today Bestselling Authors Kate Richards and Ever Coming. Friends for years, the duo decided to come together and write one of their favorite guilty pleasures: Mpreg. There is something that just does it for them about smexy men who love each other enough to start a family together in a world where they can do it the old-fashioned way ;).
Chris Owen lives with her family on the east coast of Canada. A writer, reader, board game player, knitter, and dog lover, she explores themes of chosen family in her work, often inserting her own hobbies into the characters lives.
A mother of two children who are rapidly reaching adulthood, she can frequently be found with a cup of coffee in one hand, staring dreamily at her yarn and pile of writing resources, dreaming of the day she can have a proper office with a door that closes.
Meredith Russell lives in the heart of England. An avid fan of many story genres, she enjoys nothing less than a happy ending. She believes in heroes and romance and strives to reflect this in her writing. Sharing her imagination and passion for stories and characters is a dream Meredith is excited to turn into reality.
Hank Edwards
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / KOBO
FB VENOM VALLEY / BOOKBUB / B&N
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RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
VL Locey
EMAIL: vicki@vllocey.com
Lorelei M Hart
The Cupid Crawl by Hank Edwards
Poke Check by RJ Scott & VL Locey
Carbon & Ash by Chris Owen
Jared by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
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