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Happy Grandparents Day! For Grandparents Day 2026, I chose the following 5 stories. Perhaps the grandparents only play a minor part, some may be a flashback or the reason the MC finds themselves facing the scenario before them, some might not always play a positive role, or 100 other possible roles. Whatever the reason grandparents were featured they made a lasting impact on the MC, the story, and possibly the reader. If you have any grandparent-centric stories to rec, please feel free to comment on this post or the social media post that lead you here.
On a little personal note: I was fortunate & blessed to have most of my grandparents & a few great grandparents in my life and my blog cover above is 3 of the 4 generation pics of me with said grandparents & great grandparents.
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Under the Felt Mistletoe by Nell Iris
Summary:
The most wonderful time of the year is about to get even better.
On a cold, rainy December morning, Finn’s beloved Grampa, his best friend and rock, makes a friend outside their home who he invites in for coffee. The last thing Finn expects is Nelson, a man with a painful past, who is beautiful and generous and turns Finn’s knees into jelly.
What starts out as a chance to get out of the rain, soon becomes more as Nelson helps Finn get ready for the Christmas market. They bond over coffee and fabric and Mariah Carey. Can handmade Christmas ornaments and an understanding heart give Nelson the love he’s been denied?
On a cold, rainy December morning, Finn’s beloved Grampa, his best friend and rock, makes a friend outside their home who he invites in for coffee. The last thing Finn expects is Nelson, a man with a painful past, who is beautiful and generous and turns Finn’s knees into jelly.
What starts out as a chance to get out of the rain, soon becomes more as Nelson helps Finn get ready for the Christmas market. They bond over coffee and fabric and Mariah Carey. Can handmade Christmas ornaments and an understanding heart give Nelson the love he’s been denied?
What's not to love about this holiday novella? The characters, setting, and just overall feel is fun, romantic, sweet, and full of heart. Finn, Nelson, and Grampa are the kind of people that make holiday reads special: commraderie, friendship, family, love, young, and young-at-heart, they are people you want to know. Under the Felt Mistletoe has it all and more, the sights, sounds, and smells of the holiday jump off the page. You find yourself going "awwww" quite often and that's never a bad thing because its the "aww moments" that brighten your day. Christmastime or not, this is definitely a feel good read you don't want to miss.
Lessons for Suspicious Minds by Charlie Cochrane
Summary:Cambridge Fellows Mystery #10
An invitation to stay at a friend of the Stewart family’s stately home can only mean one thing for Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith — a new case for the amateur sleuths. And with two apparently unrelated suicides, a double chase is on...
But things never run smoothly for the Cambridge fellows. In an era when their love dare not speak its name, the chance of discovery (and disgrace) is ever present—how do you explain yourself when a servant discovers you doing the midnight run along the corridor?
The chase stops being a game for Orlando when the case brings back memories of his father’s suicide and the search for the identity of his grandfather. And the solution presents them with one of the most difficult moral decisions they’ve had to make...
Original Review August 2014:
Suspicious Minds finds us back in 1909. It's nice to see the parental Stewarts back and sinking their teeth into Jonty and Orlando's investigations again. I think Papa Stewart is more eager to join in the hunt but Mama Stewart, once given an assignment is actually even more determined to assist her boys find the truth, even if it might reach a little too close to treasured loved ones. The mystery of suicide or not is intriguing and seeing how both Jonty and Orlando deal with the personal memories the subject conjures up is well written. I very much enjoyed the non-mystery related subplot of Jonty and Orlando having to deal with not being able to "do their duty" because of their location. Added some much appreciated humor when the investigation begins to way down both, our favorite couple and the reader's hearts.
RATING:
But things never run smoothly for the Cambridge fellows. In an era when their love dare not speak its name, the chance of discovery (and disgrace) is ever present—how do you explain yourself when a servant discovers you doing the midnight run along the corridor?
The chase stops being a game for Orlando when the case brings back memories of his father’s suicide and the search for the identity of his grandfather. And the solution presents them with one of the most difficult moral decisions they’ve had to make...
Suspicious Minds finds us back in 1909. It's nice to see the parental Stewarts back and sinking their teeth into Jonty and Orlando's investigations again. I think Papa Stewart is more eager to join in the hunt but Mama Stewart, once given an assignment is actually even more determined to assist her boys find the truth, even if it might reach a little too close to treasured loved ones. The mystery of suicide or not is intriguing and seeing how both Jonty and Orlando deal with the personal memories the subject conjures up is well written. I very much enjoyed the non-mystery related subplot of Jonty and Orlando having to deal with not being able to "do their duty" because of their location. Added some much appreciated humor when the investigation begins to way down both, our favorite couple and the reader's hearts.
Jared by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
Summary:Boyfriend for Hire #4
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:
Rattling Bone by Jordan L Hawk
Summary:Outfoxing the Paranormal #2
Some secrets won’t stay buried.
Oscar Fox grew up suppressing his psychic gifts. Now he and his ghost-hunting team, including his boyfriend parapsychologist Nigel Taylor, travel to Oscar’s hometown in hopes of learning more about his legacy.
A trail of family secrets lures them to an abandoned distillery, still haunted by the ghosts of Oscar’s ancestors. A curse lies upon his bloodline, and if the team can’t figure out how to stop it, he might be the next to die.
Original Review Book of the Month May 2024:
Our little band of ghost hunters is once again on the trail but this time the trail leads to Oscar's family. Okay, so even though the phrase is used in the blurb, "ghost hunters" is a bit lax, a bit neat, a bit simple in explanation. The group, Oscar, Nigel, Tina, and Chris, are doing so much more than just hunting them, they are attempting to set them free to move along. This time there is a curse, killing a member of the family every 25 years and guess what? Yeppers, it's been 25 years since the last death.
It's been over a year since Rattling Bone was released and 6 months or so since I read book 1, The Forgotten Dead, Rattling was just as deliciously danger-filled mayhem as Forgotten. I would say Rattling is probably marginally less horror labelling and more paranormal than book 1 but only by the slimmest of slims. On one hand the victims are less evil than the curser but they too have had generations to relive their ghostly fate and in letting it fester all that time they are definitely creepy and perfect for this horror-ladened paranormal gem.
As for Oscar's dad, well you want to hate him, think badly of him for trying to supress his son's gifts but at the same time you understand it stems from a place of fear after what his mother went through all those years earlier. Does it make me want to forgive him instantly? No but I do understand where it comes from and for that I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he'll accept the truth. Whether he does or not, well you have to read that for yourself to discover.
As to the original ghost who has cursed the family line? She's just pure evil, not saying there wasn't reason for her initial anger but to go after so many lines that had nothing to do with her fate is what makes her the big bad. There is just so many levels to this story and the characters, good and bad, you can't help but be intrigued, conflicted, but above all else entertained to the nth degree.
Anna Martin's Xmas Shorts #5
Jack Daly owns a toy shop nestled away down one of Bath’s cobbled streets, and he has big plans: in the new year, he’s going to expand to include a book shop. So when a seasonal pop-up shop selling children’s books opens on the other side of the street, he’s livid — is he about to lose everything he’s worked so hard for?
Oliver Rowe would much prefer to be writing books than selling them, but since writer’s block hit he doesn’t have much choice. With his agent breathing down his neck and inspiration at an all time low, all he can do is daydream about the grumpy toy shop owner who won’t stop scowling at him.
I started the year with Single Bells before bed and when I woke up a few hours later, Mistletoe & Whine seemed the perfect way to jumpstart the day. This may be the shortest entry in pages but so chock full of quality that you don't notice the shortness. This entry was from 2023 but it's my last one, I have now read all of them and I am anxiously awaiting 2026's holiday entry all ready. 11 months to go . . . Xmas never seemed so far away.
This has a nod to You've Got Mail feel a bit with the competing book sellers and yet nothing more than that is the same. I don't know if the author had any inspiration from the film or not but I couldn't help but feel a bit of a homage element to it. Frankly, this is so much better but still it brought memories back.
Jack and Oliver have what I like to call a snark and cuddle initial meet but unlike a lot of the characters I put the label to, the snark is brief but definitely makes for a cute meet. Again, this is a perfect entry in the author's Christmas Shorts series that will make you chuckle, smile, and leave you warm-hearted when you reach the last page. Perfect holiday reading that will entertain any time of year.
Under the Felt Mistletoe by Nell Iris
Sunday arrives with clear skies and no rain, but instead, the temperature has dropped overnight and hovers in the low thirties. I arm myself with a thermos of coffee and dress accordingly: long johns under my orange bellbottom corduroy pants, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a turtleneck layered under my windbreaker, a fluffy scarf wound around my neck and a beanie that makes my hair look ridiculous. It flattens everything under the hat, but at the ribbed cuff, my curls explode in every direction with a vengeance.
A lot of people attend the first market of the season and despite the cold pluming my breath in front of me, everyone is in high spirits and full of holiday cheer. My neighbor to the right, Mrs. Winterbottom -- yes, that’s her real name -- is dressed as Mrs. Santa and sells magnificent hand-crafted fir wreaths. On my left, Mr. and Mrs. Carruthers sell gold-brushed chocolate pralines that are too pretty to eat and taste even better.
Every vendor plays holiday music, greets the shoppers with a jolly ho-ho-ho, and a comment on the weather. The shoppers, in turn, have deep pockets and are eager to acquire the merchandise. People love my ornaments, and my stuff flies off the table. I will be cleaned out completely before the market closes if this continues. I need to spend more time sewing so I can bring lots more next week.
After a couple hours, huge powdery snowflakes start sailing leisurely from the sky, adding to the holiday feeling. The only downer on this fabulous day is that I ran out of coffee early. Mrs. Winterbottom forgot hers at home, and I shared mine with her. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy go without coffee if I could do something about it.
But in a lull between customers, a savior arrives.
Nelson. Carrying two paper cups in mittened hands.
Warmth flashes in my chest at the sight of him; his shy smile and brown eyes that are warm enough to thaw the thin layer of ice from the pond in the middle of the park where the market is held.
“Hi,” he says, sounding out of breath. “I know you like coffee, but I thought maybe hot chocolate would be nice in this cold?” He holds out of the cups and if we weren’t separated by the table I would show my gratitude by hugging the stuffing out of the man. New acquaintance or not.
“My hero!” I accept the offering, tear off the lid, and inhale. The sweet, slightly bitter aroma makes my mouth water. I take a small sip, but it isn’t too hot to drink so I have some more. I hum in happiness and smile at him. “This is awesome. Thank you so much.”
Nelson’s gaze is glued to my mouth with eyelids heavy and lips parted. “You’ve got ...” He sets down his cup and pulls off his red and white mittens, then he leans forward and swipes the pad of his thumb along my upper lip.
I draw a stuttering breath.
“You had chocolate on your lip,” he rasps, his voice so deliciously rumbly I feel it all the way in my bones. “There. All gone.” He does a final sweep before withdrawing.
I can’t help it; my hand flies to my mouth and I finger my lip as though I’m trying to stop the lingering warmth from evaporating.
“Thank you.” My voice is hoarse. Our eyes lock as he picks up the mittens and put them back on. My breathing grows shallow and the Christmas music cacophony and loud buzz of the market-goers fade into the background. All I see is him. All I hear is his breathing.
“Finn. I ...”
A lot of people attend the first market of the season and despite the cold pluming my breath in front of me, everyone is in high spirits and full of holiday cheer. My neighbor to the right, Mrs. Winterbottom -- yes, that’s her real name -- is dressed as Mrs. Santa and sells magnificent hand-crafted fir wreaths. On my left, Mr. and Mrs. Carruthers sell gold-brushed chocolate pralines that are too pretty to eat and taste even better.
Every vendor plays holiday music, greets the shoppers with a jolly ho-ho-ho, and a comment on the weather. The shoppers, in turn, have deep pockets and are eager to acquire the merchandise. People love my ornaments, and my stuff flies off the table. I will be cleaned out completely before the market closes if this continues. I need to spend more time sewing so I can bring lots more next week.
After a couple hours, huge powdery snowflakes start sailing leisurely from the sky, adding to the holiday feeling. The only downer on this fabulous day is that I ran out of coffee early. Mrs. Winterbottom forgot hers at home, and I shared mine with her. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy go without coffee if I could do something about it.
Nelson. Carrying two paper cups in mittened hands.
Warmth flashes in my chest at the sight of him; his shy smile and brown eyes that are warm enough to thaw the thin layer of ice from the pond in the middle of the park where the market is held.
“Hi,” he says, sounding out of breath. “I know you like coffee, but I thought maybe hot chocolate would be nice in this cold?” He holds out of the cups and if we weren’t separated by the table I would show my gratitude by hugging the stuffing out of the man. New acquaintance or not.
“My hero!” I accept the offering, tear off the lid, and inhale. The sweet, slightly bitter aroma makes my mouth water. I take a small sip, but it isn’t too hot to drink so I have some more. I hum in happiness and smile at him. “This is awesome. Thank you so much.”
Nelson’s gaze is glued to my mouth with eyelids heavy and lips parted. “You’ve got ...” He sets down his cup and pulls off his red and white mittens, then he leans forward and swipes the pad of his thumb along my upper lip.
I draw a stuttering breath.
“You had chocolate on your lip,” he rasps, his voice so deliciously rumbly I feel it all the way in my bones. “There. All gone.” He does a final sweep before withdrawing.
I can’t help it; my hand flies to my mouth and I finger my lip as though I’m trying to stop the lingering warmth from evaporating.
“Thank you.” My voice is hoarse. Our eyes lock as he picks up the mittens and put them back on. My breathing grows shallow and the Christmas music cacophony and loud buzz of the market-goers fade into the background. All I see is him. All I hear is his breathing.
“Finn. I ...”
Lessons for Suspicious Minds by Charlie Cochrane
“This island is a delightful spot.” Orlando couldn’t decide whether he preferred the lodge, the temple, or the pleasant grounds. That was like choosing between algebra, geometry, and calculus.
“It is that,” Jonty replied. “Do you know, there are two things which depress me about traditional depictions of heaven—no more sea and the equal light. Who would want a world in which there are no shadows to play on the grass or waves to play on the beach? I’ve always hoped that St. Peter, as a fisherman, would sort out the business of the ocean. Or else where will the whales disport themselves?”
“Will there be whales in heaven?”
“I sincerely hope so. Why would God create something so magnificent and then not make the most of it through eternity? I’ll be expecting glyptodonts too.”
Orlando didn’t answer. He’d tried to engage in sensible discussion on this sort of topic before, but he’d recently given up the exercise of pursuing whatever flight of fancy Jonty’s brain had gone on. There was no logic to his mental processes at times, nor was any logic expected in return. All that was required of the audience was to listen—or at least pretend to.
“I reckon we’ll have at least half an hour to disport ourselves here. Papa’s settled in that chair for a snooze and Mama, when she wakes, will force the gardener to talk to her about roses and peacocks and who knows what.” Jonty stretched again. “Bliss.” He turned over, leaning on his elbow. “Are you going to take advantage of the opportunity for a bit of shut-eye?”
“No, I’ve more important things to do.” Orlando sat hugging his knees. “I spent too much of my early life ignoring beauty and sticking my nose in books rather than looking around at the trees and the sky and the water. I want to take every opportunity now of drinking in the sublime.”
“You wonderful old softy. We’ll make a poet of you yet.” Jonty lay back again, arms behind head, staring up at the beech leaves. “Do you know, these are the best trees to hide from the rain under? Something about the arrangement of the leaves, designed to catch the most sunlight. It helps to keep out the rain as a wonderful side effect.”
“Where do you pick up all this stuff? Dr. Panesar been bending your ear again?” Maurice Panesar, fellow of St. Bride’s, possibly the most inventive brain in Cambridge. And with about as much practical common sense as a squid.
“It is that,” Jonty replied. “Do you know, there are two things which depress me about traditional depictions of heaven—no more sea and the equal light. Who would want a world in which there are no shadows to play on the grass or waves to play on the beach? I’ve always hoped that St. Peter, as a fisherman, would sort out the business of the ocean. Or else where will the whales disport themselves?”
“Will there be whales in heaven?”
“I sincerely hope so. Why would God create something so magnificent and then not make the most of it through eternity? I’ll be expecting glyptodonts too.”
Orlando didn’t answer. He’d tried to engage in sensible discussion on this sort of topic before, but he’d recently given up the exercise of pursuing whatever flight of fancy Jonty’s brain had gone on. There was no logic to his mental processes at times, nor was any logic expected in return. All that was required of the audience was to listen—or at least pretend to.
“I reckon we’ll have at least half an hour to disport ourselves here. Papa’s settled in that chair for a snooze and Mama, when she wakes, will force the gardener to talk to her about roses and peacocks and who knows what.” Jonty stretched again. “Bliss.” He turned over, leaning on his elbow. “Are you going to take advantage of the opportunity for a bit of shut-eye?”
“No, I’ve more important things to do.” Orlando sat hugging his knees. “I spent too much of my early life ignoring beauty and sticking my nose in books rather than looking around at the trees and the sky and the water. I want to take every opportunity now of drinking in the sublime.”
“You wonderful old softy. We’ll make a poet of you yet.” Jonty lay back again, arms behind head, staring up at the beech leaves. “Do you know, these are the best trees to hide from the rain under? Something about the arrangement of the leaves, designed to catch the most sunlight. It helps to keep out the rain as a wonderful side effect.”
“Where do you pick up all this stuff? Dr. Panesar been bending your ear again?” Maurice Panesar, fellow of St. Bride’s, possibly the most inventive brain in Cambridge. And with about as much practical common sense as a squid.
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.”
Rattling Bone by Jordan L Hawk
CHAPTER ONE
Nigel stared out the van window as they rounded yet another hairpin curve, his knuckles white on the armrest. His ears popped from the altitude change as the road kept climbing toward the ridge above, hidden in a shroud of trees. The branches were winter-bare, the forest floor beneath covered with only a dusting of snow even though it was deep December, the day after Christmas.
Thank heavens he didn’t get carsick. His stomach was already unsettled enough at the prospect of meeting his boyfriend’s parents.
He glanced at Oscar, who sat in the driver’s seat, attention thankfully on the narrow road. A big guy, in both height and girth, Oscar’s hair and dark eyes contrasted against his pale skin. Right now, his cute face was scrunched in a look of concentration as he steered the lumbering van around yet another blind, hairpin curve, the wheels only inches away from a drop down the mountainside.
According to Oscar, he hadn’t brought any of his other boyfriends all the way out to Marrow, West Virginia, to meet the family. Which was amazing—they’d only been together since early October, not even three months. Nigel hadn’t wanted to come off as clingy, had told himself to take things slow, but maybe this was a sign that Oscar also felt their relationship was serious.
It also made him nervous as hell. What if Oscar’s parents didn’t like him? Things were so new between them; parental disapproval might make Oscar think twice about taking it any further.
Chris leaned forward from the backseat, where they sat beside Tina. Their hair was currently dyed a vivid shade of neon blue. “Your folks really live out in the boonies, huh?”
They’d been driving for over five hours, up from Durham, North Carolina, across into Virginia. As they headed northwest, the interstate failed them, and they’d spent the last few hours on narrow state roads, climbing over the ancient spine of the Appalachians to get into West Virginia.
“You can say that again.” Oscar didn’t glance into the rearview mirror, eyes remaining firmly on the road. “Once we get over this last ridge, we’ll almost be there.”
“Thank God, because I have to pee,” Tina said. “I thought there would at least be a gas station or somewhere to stop out here.”
Chris sat back. “Too bad we didn’t pack the camping toilet.”
The back of the van was stuffed with almost all of their ghost-hunting equipment, but none of the camping things they’d used during the investigation of the Matthews house back in October.
“Do you have any ideas about the ghost in your parents’ house?” Nigel asked, grateful for something to distract him from his nerves. “Who it might be, that is?”
That was the reason they were all going to meet Oscar’s parents, instead of just Nigel. Oscar had been working on his mediumship, at least as much as he could, but with the holidays, jobs, and family commitments, OutFoxing the Paranormal hadn’t had time to do another investigation since the Matthews house.
The intermittent haunting Oscar had grown up with—and over the years trained himself to ignore—seemed like the perfect opportunity for him to get his feet wet as a medium. The spirit, whoever it was, wasn’t violent, and had seemed content merely to show itself now and again. Neither of his parents had ever even noticed it was there, so presumably it wasn’t very strong.
Still, from Nigel’s point of view, data was data. And it would be good for the OutFoxing the Paranormal show to put out something new after their Halloween spectacular. According to Oscar, they had some good sponsors lined up already.
“I don’t have any idea who she was, and it wasn’t like I could ask my parents.” Oscar grimaced, and Nigel reached out to touch his shoulder,.
“I’m sorry.”
Oscar sighed. “It’s okay.”
The road finally crested the ridge and began to angle steeply down. A gap in the trees revealed a river valley running roughly north-south below them, a small town nestled in the widest part of the flats, before the view was swallowed up again by the trees.
“Was that Marrow?” Tina asked.
“Yeah, and my folks live on this side of town, so you’ll have somewhere to pee in a few minutes.” Oscar hesitated. “Look…Mom and Dad don’t know about the whole ghost-hunting thing.”
Nigel dropped his hand and half-turned in his seat. “What?” Chris asked from the back, at the same time Tina said, “You haven’t told them about OtP?”
“How could I? You know how my dad is. Was,” he corrected hurriedly. “They know I’m bringing friends, but not that we explore abandoned buildings together looking for ghosts. But once they see some of our videos, they’ll be really proud of what we’ve accomplished.”
“What do they think I teach?” Nigel asked.
Oscar winced. “Psychology. Which is close!”
“It really isn’t.” Nigel pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. “So you’re introducing your friends the ghost hunters, and your new boyfriend the parapsychologist, to your father who historically hasn’t reacted well to the concept of seeing ghosts.”
“It’ll be fine,” Oscar insisted.
Chris flopped back in their seat. “Or a complete disaster. One of the two.”
* * *
As he pulled into the familiar driveway, Oscar told himself yet again that there was no reason to be nervous.
Everything was going to be fine. He’d lay everything out, Nigel would say something smart, Tina something technical, and Dad would realize they were professionals. This was science.
Oscar wasn’t crazy.
This was going to be a new start for them, a chance to work on their relationship without any lies or tension between them. Maybe he could even get Dad to talk about his own mother, Oscar’s mamaw, who might have been a medium too.
The house, built around the turn of the previous century, nestled on the uphill side of the road. A convex mirror, mounted on a tree on the opposite side of the driveway, offered as much view around the curve as possible for anyone pulling out. The driveway itself was fairly short and quite steep, leading up to a two-story house set partly into the hillside. The siding was white wood, set atop a foundation of local rock mortared in place.
The front door swung open before the engine was even off. Mom and Dad both came out, Mom bundled against the cold as if she was going on an expedition to Antarctica, and Dad wearing a Christmas sweater depicting kittens in Santa hats.
“You get out first,” Nigel said with a glance.
Oscar winced. Okay, yes, he probably should have told his parents about the whole ghost-hunting thing before they got here. And he should have warned everyone else that he hadn’t, especially Nigel. But he’d been…
Scared. That was all. Worried about Dad’s reaction if he heard the news over the phone.
It was going to be different now, though. He climbed out of the van and walked to his parents, who immediately engulfed him in a hug. He took after his father in coloring, and his mother, who was the taller of the pair, in build.
“It’s so good to see you!” Mom said. “We missed you at Thanksgiving.”
They’d spent the holiday with Nigel’s mother, a cheerful woman who lived in Myrtle Beach. Before Oscar could apologize, Dad slapped him on the arm. “I guess we’ll have to get used to sharing, now that you’ve got someone special,” he said with a wink.
Oscar grinned and turned to the van. Everyone else had climbed out, Nigel hovering warily and Tina shooting desperate looks at the house. “Tina, the bathroom is through the front door, first door on the left.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude,” she called as she power-walked to the front door.
Mom laughed. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve made that long drive myself plenty of times.”
“And this is my friend Chris Saito,” Oscar went on. “They/them.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Mom said warmly, and went straight in for a hug, followed by Dad who did the same.
“Thanks for having us, Mrs. Fox, Mr. Fox,” Chris said.
“Oh goodness, call us Lisa and Scott, we’re too young for that nonsense.” Mom laughed again and turned expectantly to Nigel.
Nigel looked slightly alarmed. “I’m, uh, Nigel. He/him.”
“DoctorNigel Taylor,” Oscar added, as Mom went in for a hug.
“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Dad said, shaking Nigel’s hand, then pulling him in for a hug. “Oscar can’t stop talking about you!”
A light blush spread across Nigel’s face. “Oh?”
“I love your name,” Mom went on. “Nigel; it’s so old-fashioned!”
Nigel blinked, nonplussed. “Thanks? I picked it myself.”
“We should get in out of the cold,” Oscar put in quickly.
“Of course, of course; I’ll help with the bags.” Dad took a step toward the van.
The van packed with their equipment. It was now or never.
“Um, so, something I haven’t mentioned.” He could hear himself speaking too fast but couldn’t seem to slow down. “Tina, Chris, and I have a hobby—well, it might be more than a hobby, we do get money from the videos and selling Chris’s pictures.”
Both Mom and Dad looked at him expectantly. Oscar took a deep breath to steel himself. “We’re ghost hunters.”
There was a seemingly endless moment of shocked stillness. Then Dad turned and walked back to the house without saying a word.
* * *
An hour or so later, Nigel found himself sitting at the dinner table, Oscar on one side and Mr. Fox—Scott—on the other, at the table’s end. Lisa sat beside her husband, and Chris and Tina filled out the rest of the table.
“I hope we made enough,” Lisa fretted, though the food on the table could have fed an army. “How are the potatoes?”
“Delicious,” Nigel said truthfully.
Oscar didn’t say anything, and neither did his father. Their tension toward one another radiated through Nigel’s space.
“Oh good, it’s my mamaw’s recipe,” Lisa went on, apparently determined to fill the uncomfortable silence. “The secret is to use buttermilk.”
“It’s all wonderful.” Chris reached for second helpings of turkey. “Two Christmas dinners in one year—score!”
“Well, it didn’t make sense to have it just for ourselves, since y’all were coming the next day.”
The Fox household didn’t go all-out on holiday decorations, but there was a tree in what would have been called the parlor when the house had originally been built, and now was referred to as the den. The sight of the wrapped presents underneath sent a current of panic through Nigel—was he supposed to have brought something?
He and Oscar had already exchanged presents; a book on the history of ghost hunting from him, and an incredibly warm woolen sweater, hat, and socks from Oscar. He hadn’t really thought about what meeting Oscar’s parents the day after Christmas might entail.
“Sorry we kept Oscar away for the actual day,” Tina said, “but if I’d missed the family dinner, my abuela would’ve turned me into a ghost.”
As soon as the last word was out of her mouth, she realized her mistake. She held up one hand, as if to catch it, but of course it was already gone. The tension around the table went up a notch.
Whatever Nigel had thought meeting Oscar’s parents would be like, this wasn’t it. Coming here had clearly been a mistake. Certainly they weren’t going to be able to try and contact any spirit lingering in the house.
Lisa glanced at her husband, then fixed on Nigel. “So, Nigel, Oscar tells us you teach at Duke University!”
With the sinking feeling things were about to get worse, Nigel nodded. “That’s right.”
“You’re a psychologist, is that right?” she prompted, when it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate.
Scott murmured something under his breath. His mother had died in an overcrowded state hospital; probably he had just as bad an opinion of psychology as he would of Nigel’s actual job.
“I work in the Institute of Parapsychology,” Nigel clarified. “We study phenomena outside of known biological mechanisms. My specialty is the survival of personality beyond death.”
There was a long moment of silence, before Scott spoke up. “Ghosts?”
He was going to be thrown out of the house and forbidden to ever speak to their son again. “The technical term is incorporeal personal agencies, but yes. Ghosts.”
“Excuse me,” Scott said, and pushed away from the table. He stalked out of the room.
Oscar shoved his chair back, shot an “excuse me” at his mother, and followed.
The rest of them sat in excruciatingly awkward silence for a moment. Then Lisa picked up a serving spoon. “So…who wants more potatoes?”
Mistletoe & Whine by Anna Martin
The rain floated down outside—a fine, gentle, misty rain that clung to eyelashes and soaked through socks in moments—and inside in his shop, Jack Daly scowled fiercely at the activity across the street.
Festive Children’s Book Shop! the banner screamed in garish red.
Closing Christmas Eve!
Jack’s scowl deepened.
People rushed down the cobbled alley, obscuring Jack’s view in flashes of jewel-coloured coats, black umbrellas, armfuls of shopping bags. The terrible weather clearly hadn’t put anyone off coming out to get some Christmas shopping done.
The bell above the door jingled and Jack forced himself to paste on his professionalsmile as a woman clattered in with three children in tow.
“We’re just looking,” she said, warning them and flashing Jack an apologetic grin.
The kids were already running away from her and if they had heard, they were pretending they hadn’t.
The Magic Toy Shop had been open for a little over four years now, and Jack had a solid business plan of slow and steady growth. The shop was nestled down one of Bath’s twisting cobbled streets, which gave the whole area a quietly magical feel, and at this time of year, when the Christmas lights were strung between the buildings, the magic was dialled up a little higher.
The kids seemed initially less interested in the toys as they were in the slide and the treehouse—something that was vitally important when Jack had been drawing up the designs for the shop. The treehouse, and the slide, and the crawl-spaces between the shelves that kids loved to hide in. The antique wardrobe with the false back, where it was practically required to push aside the faux-fur coats to get to the next room and look at the rows and rows of fairy dolls and ugly gnomes for sale.
It was as much an experience as it was a shop, and Jack had plans, damn it, for a second-floor bookshop next year.
And now this… this… amateur across the street was going to throw a spanner in his plans and Jack thought he was entirely justified in being annoyed by that.
“We’ll just be five minutes,” the woman said, and Jack forced himself to pay attention to his customers. “They’ve been begging to come here since we got into town.”
“It’s fine,” Jack said with a smile, waving away her apologies. “I didn’t put a slide in just to turn away kids who want to play on it.”
“I’ll be back on Wednesday,” she said in a low voice. “To get the last of the shopping done when they’re in school.”
“If you need me to put anything aside for you just let me know,” he replied. “You can send me a message on Instagram if that helps. I can arrange for home delivery, too.”
“Why would anyone want home delivery?” she said, shaking the water from her cropped brown hair. “I want to go down the slide.”
Jack laughed. “You’re welcome to.”
“Kids!” she yelled, turning away from Jack and towards the squabbling which had broken out around whose turn it was. “Time go!”
The kids made the appropriate protests but trudged obligingly towards the door. The woman turned back and grinned at Jack over her shoulder.
See you Wednesday, she mouthed at him. Then, to the kids, “Come on, we’ll have a look in the book shop before we go home.”
Jack’s returning smile turned into a scowl.
It was practically theft, was what it was. He’d established this shop and built his presence here. He’d done the outreach and worked with the children’s hospital in Bristol and painstakingly built his social media presence until The Magic Toy Shop had been listed as one of the top five toy shops in the UK by the Guardian.
Instead of moping, Jack forced himself to get up from behind the counter (polished oak—his granddad had come out of retirement to make it for him bespoke) and tidy up the display of stuffed animals and their adorably quaint matching clothes that he imported from a small business in Romania.
That had been part of the plan he’d refused to budge on, even when everyone was telling him he needed to move with the trends. The shop wasn’t filled with ‘plastic tat’, as his friends with kids had called it, or whatever was the latest must-have toy of the season. He worked with suppliers from around the world to offer unique or bespoke or limited edition toys that you couldn’t just order online for half the price. The shop was a lifestyle brand, and deliberately so.
The sun set early these days, but the steady stream of customers lasted right up until he closed the doors at six—later than usual for December, so people could stop in after work for some last minute shopping. Some came in with the intention of dropping a few hundred pounds on Christmas gifts, some others just wanted to play in the treehouse, and both types of customer was fine by him. As far as Jack was concerned, footfall was footfall. He’d lost count of how many times someone had warned a child that they weren’t buying anything today, and the kid had left with one of Jack’s distinctive black card bags with the black ribbon drawstrings. He’d joked plenty of times that the magic of the shop was the ability to change parents’ minds.
Once the displays were tidy and everything was ready for the next morning, Jack started to close down. His evening routine was quiet and familiar, flicking off the lights, transferring the receipts to the safe, pulling down the shutters and locking them.
The drizzle had stopped, thank God, but the cobbles were still slippery and Jack grabbed the gold door handle as he stepped outside to make sure he didn’t end up on his arse.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Jack forced himself to look up.
It was the bastard thief from across the street.
Jack hadn’t managed to get a good look at him until now, and of course he was ridiculously handsome, because that was what bastard thieves looked like in all of the Hollywood movies. He was tall and broad-shouldered with golden stubble over his jaw and pretty pink lips.
“I’m fine,” Jack said tightly.
“Ooo-kay,” he said, pushing his stupid floppy hair back from his stupid beautiful face. “I’ll see you around.”
“Hopefully not,” Jack muttered and stormed away—in the wrong direction—down the street before the book shop guy could follow him.
Nell IrisNell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males. She published her first book in 2017.
Nell is an author with a day job that steals too much time from her writing, her reading, her gardening, and her crocheting. She’s an introverted tea drinker who loves her family, her books, and her home in the Swedish countryside.
Charlie Cochrane
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice - like managing a rugby team - she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she's making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She's even been known to write about gay werewolves - albeit highly respectable ones.
Her Cambridge Fellows series of Edwardian romantic mysteries were instrumental in seeing her named Speak Its Name Author of the Year 2009. She’s a member of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and International Thriller Writers Inc.
Happily married, with a house full of daughters, Charlie tries to juggle writing with the rest of a busy life. She loves reading, theatre, good food and watching sport. Her ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby and a church service in the evening.
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.
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.
Jordan L HawkJordan L. Hawk is a trans author from North Carolina. Childhood tales of mountain ghosts and mysterious creatures gave him a life-long love of things that go bump in the night. When he isn’t writing, he brews his own beer and tries to keep the cats from destroying the house. His best-selling Whyborne & Griffin series (beginning with Widdershins) can be found in print, ebook, and audiobook.
If you want to contact Jordan, just click on the links below or send an email.
Anna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the southwest of England and now lives in the Bristol, a city that embraces her love for the arts. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.
Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theater (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), going to visit friends in other countries, and reading anything thatís put under her nose.
Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, prereading, and creative ass kicking provided by her best friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept responsibility for anything Anna has written.
Nell Iris
Charlie Cochrane
NEWSLETTER / KOBO / RIPTIDE
EMAIL: cochrane.charlie2@googlemail.com
RJ Scott
BOOKBUB / KOBO / SMASHWORDS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk
Meredith Russell
EMAIL: meredithrussell666@gmail.com
Jordan L Hawk
Under the Felt Mistletoe by Nell Iris
Lessons for Suspicious Minds by Charlie Cochrane
Jared by RJ Scott & Meredith Russell
Rattling Bone by Jordan L Hawk
B&N / KOBO / SMASHWORDS / iTUNES
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