Summary:
Two clashing colleagues stuck together for Christmas—will opposites eventually attract?
Patrick has been single since he broke up with his cheating ex almost a year ago. With Christmas looming, he’s resigned to spending it alone with only memories of happier times for company. When a business trip with a co-worker leaves them stranded in the Lake District due to heavy snow, it seems Patrick will have company for Christmas after all. It’s a shame his companion is Kyle, who’s undeniably attractive, but annoying as hell.
Aware of Patrick’s reluctant admiration, Kyle basks in the attention even though Patrick isn’t the type of man he normally goes for. Averse to relationships after being hurt in the past, Kyle enjoys the occasional hook up, but has given up on seeking anything more meaningful.
Stuck together, their antagonism escalates along with a heavy dose of sexual tension until it finally ignites. What starts as a Christmas fling soon feels like something special; but will their tentative connection melt away as the snow thaws? If they’re going to take a chance on finding happiness together, they’ll have to put their differences aside and learn to trust one another.
Contains: enemies-to-lovers, snowball fights, bickering, spanking, a cute dog, a wise old lady, mistletoe, and a happy ending (of course).
I'm not going to say I forgot how wonderful Stuck with You was because I didn't, I remembered the awesomeness of this holiday gem even though it's been 3 years since I read it. Honestly, I think that statement right there says more to the entertaining storytelling than any other creative phrases I could write here.
I ended my original review 3 years ago by saying "Unfortunately, I don't have much time to do many re-reads during the holidays but one of these years I will be doing a Re-Read Holiday Style in the summer and when I do, Stuck with You will definitely be on that list." Well, that Re-Read Holiday Style/Christmas in July has yet to happen so when I saw Northcote had released Stuck in audiobook, I 1-clicked so fast and got to listening right away.
Patrick and Kyle still had me warring between whacking them with a frying pan and Mama Bear hugging them until they saw sense. Thankfully one of my favorite couple chemistry is what I fondly refer to as "snark and cuddle" and these two have the snark & cuddle in spades, heck they have a masters degree in it.
Jay Northcote's Stuck With You is still brilliant, still fun, still lovely, and now with the incredible narration by Hamish Long I really will get to re-live this holiday gem over and over without waiting 3 years. Holiday yumminess on all fronts.
Original Review December 2018:
Patrick has resigned himself to spending the holiday alone after breaking up with his cheating boyfriend a year ago but he finds himself stuck with co-worker Kyle when a snowstorm hits. When sniping turns to flirting and innuendos turns to actions will their Christmas fling ignite into more or will the sniping keep it from going beyond the stranded holiday?
On the surface, Stuck with You could be labeled your typical, well not really enemies-to-lovers but definitely acquaintances-on-opposite-ends-of-the-politeness-spectrum-to-lovers😉 holiday story. However, at the heart of Kyle and Patrick's journey is seeing the difference between the person and the image as well as letting someone see the person instead of the image. That's not to say I was always happy with either of them, whether it was intentional or in response to the moment, they both are well versed in "smartass" and need a good clip upside the head. But as in life, we live and learn so if everything was all squeaky clean and copacetic than Stuck with You would be a very short pamphlet instead of lovely novella. Where is the fun in that? 😉
From beginning to end, Stuck with You is full of heat, laughter, smartass-ery, fun, friendship, romance, holiday spirit, but most of all it has plenty of heart. I haven't read all of Jay Northcote's books or even all of his holiday stories but I've never been let down before and I wasn't let down this time. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to do many re-reads during the holidays but one of these years I will be doing a Re-Read Holiday Style in the summer and when I do, Stuck with You will definitely be on that list.
RATING:
Patrick has resigned himself to spending the holiday alone after breaking up with his cheating boyfriend a year ago but he finds himself stuck with co-worker Kyle when a snowstorm hits. When sniping turns to flirting and innuendos turns to actions will their Christmas fling ignite into more or will the sniping keep it from going beyond the stranded holiday?
On the surface, Stuck with You could be labeled your typical, well not really enemies-to-lovers but definitely acquaintances-on-opposite-ends-of-the-politeness-spectrum-to-lovers😉 holiday story. However, at the heart of Kyle and Patrick's journey is seeing the difference between the person and the image as well as letting someone see the person instead of the image. That's not to say I was always happy with either of them, whether it was intentional or in response to the moment, they both are well versed in "smartass" and need a good clip upside the head. But as in life, we live and learn so if everything was all squeaky clean and copacetic than Stuck with You would be a very short pamphlet instead of lovely novella. Where is the fun in that? 😉
From beginning to end, Stuck with You is full of heat, laughter, smartass-ery, fun, friendship, romance, holiday spirit, but most of all it has plenty of heart. I haven't read all of Jay Northcote's books or even all of his holiday stories but I've never been let down before and I wasn't let down this time. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to do many re-reads during the holidays but one of these years I will be doing a Re-Read Holiday Style in the summer and when I do, Stuck with You will definitely be on that list.
RATING:
Summary:
Aidan might be a bad elf, but he’s never been naughty.
Aidan has always landed on Santa’s nice list, thank you very much. But that doesn’t mean he’s cut out to be a North Pole elf; instead of worrying about the dwindling magic of Christmas, he’d much rather be back in Tir na Nog, calculating where the next end of the rainbow is going to land.
Instead he’s freezing his butt off in Santa’s sleigh.
His situation seems grim despite all the decking the halls, until on Christmas Eve, during a milk and cookies run, he meets Dexter, an engineering student.
They couldn’t be more different, and Dexter couldn’t be more forbidden, but Aidan is drawn to the handsome human anyway. Over the next year, their emails start out as a entertaining way to pass the time in all his interminable elf meetings, but soon, hearing from Dex becomes the very best part of his day.
And when they meet up on the next Christmas Eve? Aidan and Dex discover that their infatuation is so much more than just attraction. If they believe in each other and in the love they share, together their magic might be powerful enough to save Christmas.
Summary:
Sean O’Conner built his company from the ground up, and is terrified that he could lose everything if he came out. Christian Elliot is a trust fund kid about to be written out of his parents’ will if he displeases them, so he, too, has been closeted. Both of them feel like they’re walking a thin line, without anything other than drunken fumbling with other guys to see them through.
When Christian reaches out online to look for help, the two of them connect. Even though the businessman is far older than the trust fund kid, somehow, it works out perfectly. The sex is amazing, but what happens when they start to fall in love? Will their little secret remain safe, or will their feelings for each other ruin everything for both of them?
The newest Christmas special from Riley Knight, this 45,000 word hidden relationship romance will keep you warm all winter long with sizzling, adults-only heat! Don't miss it!
Summary:
Lost in New York #3.5
ACT ONE:
Frisco has no idea what to get Torre for Christmas, but he knows it needs to be something special. He's never cared about the holidays before. But now he has something to celebrate and he wants to get it right.
What do you get the man who has everything? Torre goes to the one person who knows Frisco best for help, but discovers the answer has been with him all along. But who's surprising who?
Two men, one question.
ACT TWO
One special night sets off a chain reaction that no one saw coming.
One couple will have their lives changed forever.
One dream becomes reality.
This has been expanded with over 9,000 additional words.
Summary:
Pros & Cons #5.5
Christmas time and the gang is celebrating leaving the threats and dangers behind them with a week long house party in the country. It’s the perfect opportunity for a murder.
My name is Charlie Binghman. Well, it was back when I was a conman. Now I’m done. Finished. Out of the business. A vigilante grifter no more. Charlie Bingham is dead for real this time.
All I want to do is spend the rest of my life in peace and quiet with the man I love. (Stop laughing, Shook. No one asked for your opinion.) So, why not celebrate our survival and happiness with a big holiday party? Let’s have a house party over Christmas week, I said. We can invite friends and family. It will be fun.
Of course, it’s chaos from the moment our first guests arrive. Things go downhill quickly from there. And that’s before a stranger shows up full of questions and Breck finds a dead body on the grounds.
Now I have a house full of wanted criminals, a dogged journalist who won’t take ‘no comment’ for an answer, and a corpse in the old root cellar.
If I want to keep all of us out of jail, I’ve got to keep the journalist occupied, keep the guest amused, and keep my grandmother in the dark until I figure out who the dead guy was, who would want him dead, and who murdered him right under our noses. No problem. Good thing I have my team with me. We should be able to figure this out in no time.
Right?
Random Tales of Christmas 2021
Stuck with You by Jay Northcote
One
Wednesday 21st of December
Patrick kept his gaze fixed on his boss, Brian Buckley, but he was all too aware of Kyle’s presence next to him. Kyle was like a splinter, niggling away under his skin in a way that was annoying, yet hard to ignore.
Impossible to ignore, in fact.
Since Kyle had started working as a trainee sales rep in the offices of Lipton Medical Ltd six weeks ago, and Patrick, assigned as his mentor, had struggled to focus on much else because Kyle was very distracting.
Brian ran his hand through his thinning grey hair, looking exasperated. “I’m tired of you sniping at each other around the office. Even if you can’t settle your differences you need to find a way to be civil. The current situation is unprofessional and it needs to stop.”
Patrick felt his ears heat as he blushed. “I’m sorry.” In the seven years he’d been working here, Brian had never had cause to criticise his professionalism before.
Bloody Kyle.
At least this meeting at Carlisle Royal Infirmary—one of the furthest clients from their Manchester base—would be their last trip together, as well as their last trip before the Christmas break. In the new year Kyle would be taking on his own clients and Patrick would no longer be his mentor, so Patrick wouldn’t see nearly so much of him.
“Book a hotel and stay the night. There’s no rush to get back on Friday as we’re winding down for the holidays anyway. Go out for a meal, have a few beers. Maybe spending some time together out of the office will help the two of you to get along better.”
“Maybe,” Patrick said, unconvinced. The best part of two days together would probably have them close to murdering each other by the time they were done. He’d rather drive back from Carlisle the same day, but with the meeting ending at five-thirty—and they had a tendency to run over—it could be a long day if they didn’t stay the night.
Kyle cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Patrick flashed a glance sideways and caught Kyle looking back at him. Kyle raised his perfectly shaped eyebrows as though in challenge and Patrick looked away quickly.
“Well I don’t care if you do it, but you need to sort things out,” Brian said seriously. “Even if you’re not working together so closely in the new year, you’re still going to be part of the same team. This schoolyard bickering needs to stop.”
“Of course.” Patrick addressed Brian. “We’ll do our best.”
“Kyle?” Brian raised his eyebrows.
“Absolutely, boss. I’m sure this trip will be a great opportunity for us to bond.” Kyle’s voice was smooth and sweet as syrup.
Patrick tried not to roll his eyes at Kyle’s obsequiousness. What an arse-licker. He shook the fleeting image of the literal version of that out of his head. Not going there.
“Right, that’s all. Safe travels and I’ll see you both back here in January.” Dismissed, they stood. “Have a good Christmas, both of you,” Brian added just as Patrick was opening the office door.
“Thanks, you too,” Kyle said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Patrick added, a twist of sadness in his chest as he remembered he’d be spending Christmas alone this year.
Back at his desk, Patrick pretended to read through some notes on a new product they’d be rolling out in January but his mind was elsewhere. Feeling despondent, he allowed himself to think about Kyle instead, welcoming the distraction from memories that hurt. He risked a furtive glare at the side of Kyle’s blond head where he sat opposite, intent on something on his laptop screen. A strand of hair fell over Kyle’s forehead and he swept it back. Surely that sun-streaked look couldn’t be natural, not in the middle of winter?
Patrick sighed. He spent way too much time thinking about Kyle when he was supposed to be concentrating on work. It was incredibly frustrating to be fixated on someone he didn’t even like. It was hard to pinpoint why he annoyed Patrick so much. Perhaps it was because they were so different.
Patrick was good at his job as a sales rep, but his systems were seemingly chaotic. By the age of thirty he should probably have learnt to file things more neatly, but the piles of paper on his desk were actually arranged in a way that made perfect sense—to Patrick. Kyle on the other hand kept his desk clear and was obsessive about keeping things tidy. Working together, he’d been constantly frustrated by Patrick’s mess and clutter.
Kyle’s phone chimed with a distinctive sounding notification. Patrick’s frustration rose a few notches as he watched Kyle slip his phone out of his pocket. Smiling to himself, Kyle typed a reply, engaging in a brief exchange of messages before putting his phone away.
Although they were only seven years apart in age, twenty-three-year-old Kyle sometimes seemed as if he was from a different generation. Wedded to his phone, Kyle was a party boy and a Grindr addict. Patrick had always shied away from that type of gay man, preferring to meet people organically through shared interests. A night out clubbing was Patrick’s idea of torture. He’d rather go on a date to the theatre, or sit alone at home with a good book.
The only thing they had in common was their sexuality; although Patrick was discreet at work so Kyle didn’t know they shared an interest in men. Kyle, on the other hand, was indiscreet to the point of being inappropriate. Maybe Patrick was the only one in their office who recognised the tone of a Grindr notification, but sooner or later Kyle would get caught sexting when he was supposed to be working.
Patrick had managed to convince himself that it was disapproval that made him bristle whenever he heard those notifications. The fact that Kyle was cute as hell with an arse you could bounce pound coins off had nothing to do with it. Patrick wasn’t into casual sex, and he didn’t want to be intimate with someone he didn’t even like, no matter how much he fancied him.
Giving himself a mental slap, Patrick tore his attention away from Kyle and forced himself to concentrate on work. There’d be plenty of time over the Christmas holiday to think about Kyle’s arse. It wasn’t like Patrick would have anything better to do this year.
* * * * *
Feeling boosted by a message exchange with one of his occasional hook up buddies, Kyle turned his focus back to work and began to re-read the notes he’d prepared for the meeting in Carlisle. He could sense Patrick’s irritation rolling off him like smoke. Instinct told him that if he looked up, Patrick would be watching him. Patrick spent a lot of time watching Kyle, and he wasn’t nearly as subtle about it as he probably imagined. His attraction was painfully obvious to Kyle who was very used to basking in male attention and could recognise it a mile off.
Shame for Patrick that he wasn’t Kyle’s type.
Hiding a smug smile behind his hand, Kyle put Patrick from his mind. He closed his notes and opened the folder of client details, planning to use the rest of the afternoon to familiarise himself with the clients he’d be taking on alone in January.
Kyle had lost track of time when Patrick’s voice pulled him out of focus.
“Right, I’m done for the day so I’m heading home soon.” Patrick pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and a lock of dark wavy hair fell over his brow. “I’ll need to pick you up at ten tomorrow for us to allow for traffic if we want to be sure of making the meeting at one.”
“Can we take my car?” Kyle asked. “Now I’ve finally got a decent one I could do with giving it a good run to get used to it.”
The car allowance from the company meant he’d been able to upgrade from his ancient VW Golf to a nearly new BMW 3 Series. He’d only collected it two days ago and was desperate for a chance to take it on a longer drive than his commute to the office. Plus Patrick drove like Kyle’s granny so they’d get there faster with Kyle behind the wheel.
“I suppose.” Patrick gave a small frown. “We can share the driving regardless.”
“There’s no need. It’s not likely to be more than two hours.” Patrick’s frown deepened and Kyle had to bite back a smirk. Patrick hated being a passenger. On the couple of occasions he’d reluctantly let Kyle drive his Mercedes, he’d been jumpy as hell, foot pressing down on a non-existent brake whenever Kyle had gone a little too close—in Patrick’s opinion—to the car in front. “So I’ll pick you up at ten,” Kyle continued cheerily. “Can you text me your address?”
“Sure.” Patrick sounded resigned. “See you in the morning then.”
“Yep, bye.” Kyle grinned, happy to have won that round.
In some ways he was going to miss working so closely with Patrick. Winding him up was a sport Kyle excelled at.
He watched as Patrick walked away. Tall and lean, his shoulders were broad in his dark grey suit. He didn’t have enough muscle for Kyle’s tastes, and he preferred his men more dominant in their personality, but he had to admit he liked Patrick’s hair. The rumpled mess of dark curls wasn’t something Kyle would normally notice—previously preferring more military styles—but it had grown on him, and when Patrick forgot to shave, his dark stubble looked good on him too.
Merry Elf-ing Christmas by Beth Bolden
Aidan was supposed to be in Ireland.
He was supposed to be counting golden coins, buffing cauldrons and helping his boss, the vice president of Leprechaun Operations, triangulate where the end of the next rainbow would land.
Instead, he was in Santa’s sleigh.
Currently freezing his balls off.
His friend Ronan had said that “weirder things had happened,” but Aidan wasn’t sure that there was much weirder than at the young age of sixty-seven discovering that he wasn’t meant to be at Tír na nÓg, but instead that he’d apparently been born under a unique northern star, under a particular set of circumstances—the same circumstances that a North Pole elf had once foretold would produce the Elf Who Would Save Christmas.
AKA the Christmas Savior.
Aidan was flattered, but the truth was, he didn’t want to save Christmas.
He wanted to find the end of the next rainbow.
Santa—no, Aidan reminded himself, Sam, as he’d introduced himself a few weeks back, with twinkling blue eyes and a welcoming smile—turned to him. “Want to stop for a snack?” he asked.
Aidan actually didn’t. He wanted to finish this interminable night and get off this sleigh and stop shivering, finally.
The magic of Christmas blah blah blah had lasted just about as long as it took for that first blast of arctic air to sneak up the back of his fur-lined cloak.
“Sure, we could get a snack,” Aidan said instead, because he was supposed to be assisting, and as Edmund, head of the North Pole elves, had told him when he’d pulled him aside for one last hissed, hurried set of instructions, that meant Santa got whatever he wanted.
“This night,” Edmund said in that annoyingly stentorian voice of his, “is for Santa. It’s Santa’s night.”
“Sam,” Aidan had responded impudently, earning him one of Edmund’s trademark frosty glares. “He told me to call him Sam.”
Edmund had sniffed, clearly unamused. “If that is what Santa said, then so be it.”
He’d learned that much during his last six weeks in the North Pole; Santa’s word was freaking law.
Even the leprechauns hadn’t wielded quite so much power.
But then with Sam, it wasn’t really power. He ruled with good old-fashioned love, inspiring an adoring crowd who would gladly trample anyone who didn’t feel the same.
The good news was that up til now, Aidan had managed to keep his apathy under wraps.
If Edmund or any of the other North Pole elves ever found out about it, he was screwed.
Sam pulled the sleigh, powered by its flying doohicky—Edmund had forwarded him the complicated plans that he’d glanced over and understood exactly zero of—down through the clouds of Chicago, snow thick on the ground.
Somehow, eventually he’d have to actually be able to take the sleigh apart and put it back together, or so Edmund had told him, but he’d been given a pass since it was just his first year. Aidan wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.
Invisibility was one of the elves’ greatest strengths, and their camouflaging magic helped keep the sleigh under wraps. It was the one thing the North Pole and the Tír na nÓg elves had in common: they were really good at making things disappear.
Still, you had to be careful, as Edmund had lectured Aidan about a dozen times. The sleigh might be invisible, but if they landed in a snowbank, the tracks would show. And if anyone ever bumped into it, the invisibility would fade, abruptly, exposing their secrets to humans.
AKA The Worst Thing Ever.
A Christmas Engagement by Riley Knight
Chapter One
Sean
The door opened with a creak, and once more, Sean was deeply grateful for that telltale little noise. It always gave him just enough time to slam his laptop shut, hiding himself, his true self, once more from the unforgiving world. The plastic lid kept him safe, kept everything status quo, and that was the most important thing.
“Boss, we’re running low on fries.”
It was the manager of this location, a man who Sean shamefully forgot the name of regularly. Of course, he had twenty-nine of these restaurants, a little mini-empire, with more locations planned to be open throughout Washington state and even over into Montana and down into Oregon. There were a lot of employees, a lot of names, and it was maybe not that surprising that he couldn’t remember all of them.
Still, he should remember this one. This was his flagship restaurant, after all. But the guy was relatively new to the job, and he showed it by needing all sorts of hand-holding that a more experienced person wouldn’t. But he could gain the experience.
It took him a second to come back to himself, to pull himself out of the sensual world that his computer had brought him to. He cleared his throat, tried not to look at the laptop, which would show this man far too much if he opened it. Of course, the guy would never do that, it would be wildly inappropriate, but there was still some definite guilt associated with what was currently showing on the screen.
“We have an order coming in tomorrow,” Sean said, after a brief moment to pull himself together. “There will be more fries.”
“I know, but this restaurant is getting busier and busier,” the guy said. “And for some reason, they all want fries.”
Sean fought down his irritation. More than anything, he wanted to open his computer again, to be brave enough to do it this time. He always pulled back just short of it, but he felt more and more unsatisfied as time went on. Once, even just logging in to the site had done it for him, but not anymore.
More and more, he felt like he needed to take that one final step, and he was worried once he did, it would ruin everything.
“Okay, well, that’s good news for all of us, right?” Sean replied, tilting his head to the side as he looked at the man. “Just order more for the next delivery. It’s going to be Christmas in a few months, and you’re going to have to adjust upward. We always get busy around this time of year.”
“I thought I needed permission…” the manager said, and Sean fixed the most friendly, approachable smile that he could muster on his face. The man was still learning, after all.
“It’s your store. You get to make those business decisions,” Sean pointed out. “That’s why you’re here. You don’t need to come to me with these sorts of day to day operating decisions.”
It was probably the tenth time that he had explained this to the man, and he had only been working here for about two weeks. But as the guy nodded, Sean saw something in his eyes that made him think that maybe, just maybe, he got it at last. He finally believed Sean.
God, he hoped so. At first, when he’d opened this very same restaurant, he had done everything himself, pretty much. Now, with as many as he had, that wasn’t possible. He needed good people working for him who could cut it on their own.
Sighing, he turned back to his laptop. The door was safely closed behind what’s-his-name, and while that had all provided a temporary distraction, it was time to go back to what he’d been doing. Time to face at least some of the disturbing thoughts that he’d been having, the ones that woke him up in the middle of the night, shaking with erotic desire so intense it felt like he might just spontaneously combust if he didn’t do something about it.
Work had been enough, at first. Just like it had been today, it had been sufficient through the years to distract him. But as more and more of his job was just overseeing others, as more and more of it got to be mostly automated with a little bit of troubleshooting, it took up less of his time.
He could start a new business, he supposed, as he watched his hand reach out for the laptop, watched as his fingers pried it open, revealing his sin, so it felt, to a judgmental world that wouldn’t understand, that would be quick to take everything that he had built up if he let it.
The only reason he had everything he did was that the world didn’t know. He had learned that lesson early, and he had learned it well. He was going to have to keep it in mind if he did decide to go for this. He had to be careful, go slowly, take his time, and keep himself safe.
He opened the laptop fully, looking at the dangerous webpage within. It was a popular dating app, not something that should be such a big deal as he was making it out in his head, except for one simple fact. This wasn’t a dating site for men looking for women.
So far, he had only looked, which made him feel a little better about the whole thing. What harm was there in just scanning the site, reading the profiles of the thousands of men who were, just like him, interested in other men? That was how he had justified it to himself months ago when he had signed up for an account. He was just reading; there was no law against that, right?
He remembered the first night when he, drunk and desperately aroused, had signed up. His profile didn’t even have a picture. It was the next thing to blank, but even just taking that step had driven him crazy, made the solitary orgasm he’d given himself only seconds later the most intense he had ever had.
After that, he’d been hooked. Scanning all the profiles that he was fed, he devoured them as hungrily as a starving man would fall on a loaf of bread. Eventually, looking hadn’t been enough, and he’d started to send some messages.
It never went anywhere, though, because the men invariably wanted to meet him in person. The chances that somebody would recognize him were high, too high, at least locally. He was in commercials, promoting his brand, too often. More likely than not, it would be fine. It wasn’t like he was a huge deal.
But it wasn’t a zero chance. That was what had kept him from putting up a profile picture. He had sent a few nudes, from the neck down, back and forth with a few random guys, but that was it. What if he posted his face, and someone saw? Someone he knew? Someone who knew his parents?
In his near four decades of life, he had learned that things tended to come out. And that a little bit of information could be a dangerous thing. Things could snowball entirely out of control, and something as seemingly innocuous as a photo could ruin everything.
He ran a chain of what were, honestly, more like Irish pubs than a restaurant. Much of his income came from people coming in to watch sports on the enormous televisions all over the place. Would people like that still come if they knew that he was gay? Even in a relatively liberal place like Seattle, there were plenty of homophobes. He knew that from experience.
So he could lose everything, and when he stared at the website, all of that was very clear in his mind. It mixed with his arousal in a deeply uncomfortable way. It always gave him such a thrill to be there, but there was guilt, too, and a sense that he would never find the satisfaction that he needed there.
How could he ever take the risk?
The website had found a match for him, the website informed him suddenly, the popup making his stomach clench with a painful mixture of need and that same nasty guilt. It was the same every time they did it. Sometimes, he accepted the prompt. More often, he just closed it without even looking.
This time, for some reason, he found that he couldn’t make himself close it. He knew that he should. Hadn’t he just been thinking about how this could never work, how it was nothing more than him teasing himself with what he could never have?
And yet, he clicked the button to accept the match and was taken to a profile. Even then, he could have closed it without looking, but something about it caught his eye.
This guy also didn’t have a profile picture. That was a rarity because the site itself discouraged it. It prioritized people with photos, or even a video, over those who wanted to keep a low profile.
There was hardly anything on the profile. The age, hair, and eye color, all of it, was blank, just like Sean’s own profile. There was nothing that could identify him. Only a few short paragraphs on the page at all.
I’m not looking to hook up. I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, actually—someone to talk to, maybe. I can’t talk to anyone I know about being into men, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m pretty deeply closeted, and I can’t see that being anyone’s thing.
I don’t want to meet. I’ve got too much to lose. So, I guess, if you’re in a similar situation to me, shoot me a message?
It was like Sean had written it himself. As in, on the occasions that he had considered filling his profile out more, what he had thought about writing had been so close to that that he had to check for a second to see if he had somehow been linked back to his own profile. But of course, he had never been brave enough to take even the step that this guy had done.
He had other things to do that day. Other restaurants that he had to check in on. And yet, he stayed there, staring at those two paragraphs of writing like they somehow held the secret to life itself. No matter how many times he went to close the tab so that he could go, he couldn’t quite make himself do it.
It was honestly strange. Usually, he was decisive enough to do what needed to be done. He wouldn’t have built himself up to where he was without that skill, after all. He knew that there was no point in talking to this strange man. He knew that he couldn’t take the risk. So why was he still looking?
Well, it was simple. It seemed to him like this man had circumstances very similar to his own, so maybe they were the only two people who could understand each other? Or was that too stupidly romantic?
In the end, he did shut the laptop. But only after he’d clicked on the button to message the owner of that profile. It seemed to him like there was a pretty good chance that the guy would never get back to him. Even if Sean had been brave enough to post something like that in his profile, he probably wouldn’t have replied to anyone who reached out to him.
He kept the message short, sweet, and to the point. When it was done, he closed the laptop with a decisive movement, then stood up, putting it in the backpack that he still used instead of the more traditional briefcase that he knew most business people used. But then, he didn’t think of himself as a businessman, not even after the almost two decades that he had spent building up this mini-empire.
He had things to do, and he wasn’t going to think about the message he’d sent again—about how he’d finally taken the step that he had been almost entirely sure that he would never take.
It didn’t matter. Nothing would come of it. And by the time he’d reached his car, he had almost forgotten about the thrill of excitement, of something that felt almost like destiny, that had gone through him when he’d seen that profile. Destiny was bullshit, and he was a man with more to do than sit around and stare at his laptop.
He had almost convinced himself of that by the time he dropped into the driver’s seat of his car, and by the time he powered it on, he had already buried it down deep, just like he did anytime he thought about stuff like this.
The Gift of Forever by Felice Stevens
Chapter One
Act One
“You said we’d do what?”
Torre, who knew he’d fucked up, leaned in for a kiss, but I wasn’t having any of it, and I folded my arms.
“It’s only for a couple of hours. Come on. Don’t be a Grinch and spoil the holiday. I can’t say no to Mike and Val.”
It was three days until Christmas. The first Christmas I’d be in New York since I could remember. The first Christmas I’d actually thought about celebrating. I’d never had a reason to care about the holiday before I met Torre. Then again, I hadn’t had much of a reason to care about anything before him.
“When we’ve watched your niece, it was at your mother’s house. Not here.” I gestured to the expanse of my loft. “This space isn’t exactly childproof.”
“Babe. She’s a little girl. We’ll give her some toys, and she’ll be fine.”
I quirked a brow and grinned. “I doubt she’ll like the kinds of toys I have.”
Torre rolled his eyes. “I know you didn’t just say that.” He huffed. “Come on. You know what I mean. She’ll play with her dolls, color a little, and we’ll give her a snack. By that time, Mike and Val will be finished taking the baby to his doctor’s appointment, and it’ll be time to send her home.”
Now it was my turn to kiss Torre and I did so, wrapping my arms around him while I nipped his lips and sucked his tongue. “I’m just kidding. You know I’ll do anything for you.” I cupped his ass and wondered if it made sense to even bother going upstairs to the bedroom. Torre and I often took advantage of the extremely comfortable sofa in the living room for fun and games.
The buzzer sounded from below, but I barely paid attention as I walked him backward. The couch won. I had no desire to walk up steps—I wanted Torre. Now.
“Are you expecting a delivery?” I trailed kisses along Torre’s throat and smiled, feeling him shiver in my arms. “Never mind, I don’t care. Ignore them. They can leave it downstairs.” I tugged at his sweater.
A guilty expression crossed Torre’s flushed face. “Uh…did I mention they were coming today? Like, now?”
My eyes popped open wide, and I pushed him away to glare at him. “No. You did not.”
Torre laughed weakly. “Surprise.” He tried to pass me to open the door, but I grabbed his arm first.
“You are so going to owe me for this.”
His brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, I know. And I’m so anticipating my punishment.” He gave me a lingering kiss, then walked away from me to hit the buzzer and wait by the door for them to come up.
“I wouldn’t smile if I were you.” A plan had already formed in my head. Someone was going to look and taste very delicious by the time I was through with him.
The doorbell rang, and Torre shot me a grin. “To be continued,” he said and opened the door. “Val, come on in. I don’t think you’ve ever been here before.”
“It’s gorgeous. I can only imagine the views.” I heard Val’s excited voice, and despite my annoyance with Torre, my smile was genuine when she entered the living room to greet me. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the expanse of windows and the view of the river.
“Oh, this is amazing. I love a view of the water. I could sit and look at this all day.”
“Welcome to our humble abode.” I gave her a kiss.
“Frisco, honey, I’m sure people have many names for you, but ‘humble’ isn’t one of them. Even I know that.” She patted my shoulder.
She had a point.
She continued in her normal cheerful manner. “But I love you anyway. Mike’s waiting in the car downstairs with MJ. I didn’t want to bring the baby up here without knowing why he’s spiking a fever.”
“And your appointment is when?”
“At two.” She checked her watch. “Hopefully we won’t have to wait over an hour like last time. This time of the year, all the kids get sick.”
I raised my brows at Torre, who hadn’t managed to rid himself of the guilty look on his face. “Yes, hopefully.”
She adjusted the small Chanel purse on her shoulder, and I couldn’t suppress my self-satisfied smile. Since our shopping trip after Mike and I had become partners in the restaurant business, I’d never seen her without it. Val was blunt, strong-willed, and opinionated, but she was also loving and fiercely devoted to her family. From the start she had welcomed me, and we’d not only become good friends, but I truly adored her. She, more than anyone besides Torre, got me. We had a monthly date for drinks, and I took her as my date to the Opera when it was in season. I knew she was going to love the Chanel tote bag I’d bought her for Christmas—I’d seen her eyeing it online.
“You haven’t decorated your tree yet?” Val pointed to the evergreen leaning in the corner, its branches still tied up with twine. “You do know Christmas is only three days away?”
Not only had I never bothered with any holiday for the most part, I certainly hadn’t decorated my apartment for Christmas. Why go to the trouble, when I’d had no one aside from Presley to buy presents for and certainly little to celebrate? Growing up in my house, Christmas was a time my parents would make halfhearted and ultimately futile attempts to pretend they cared about each other and me, with the end result usually being both of them drinking too much, then fighting, with plates smashed and ugly names flung. I’d retreat to my room and wish I could be anywhere else. When I was old enough to know better, I’d invite myself over to Presley’s house and spend the holidays with them.
The season of joy held anything but that for me.
This year was different.
This year I had a reason to celebrate. I finally had someone who taught me what love and giving meant, even if I did want to kill him for cutting my fun afternoon short. Punishment would be its own sweet reward.
“Considering the ridiculous number of packages that have been arriving here for the past month, I got the hint. But I’d rather cut my—”
Torre clamped a hand over my mouth. “There’s a child here,” he hissed in my ear.
I licked his palm. “What?” I stood wide-eyed and smiling. “I was going to say arm.”
“The hell you were,” Torre groused, and I poked him.
“Watch your mouth, bello. There’s an impressionable little girl here.”
He narrowed his eyes, but I gave him a sunny smile.
“Well, I’d better get going so we aren’t late.” She bent down to kiss Tina, who waited, wide-eyed and clutching a doll at her side. “Be a good girl for your uncles.”
“I will.” She plopped herself on the couch and swung her legs, and visions of sticky fingers and spilled juice all over my beautiful furniture made my stomach queasy. God, I needed a drink.
Val hugged me. “I know this isn’t your thing, so thank you. We had no choice, with Mike’s mom fighting a cold.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not going to do anything but sit around and drink Negronis.”
“You’re impossible. But it’s why I love you.”
“I love you too, cicci. But Torre’s in charge of children’s play.” I kissed her cheek. “I handle the adult kind.”
She laughed in my face. “Yeah, right. This from the man who spent an hour in Mom’s kitchen teaching a six-year-old how to roll the perfect meatball.”
“A required skill of any truly great chef.” I had to admit it was sweet to have the little girl next to me on a step stool, attempting to imitate what I did. “At least someone listens and appreciates my skills and talent.”
“Somehow, I think Torre appreciates your talents. Hidden and otherwise.” Val winked at me, kissed Torre’s cheek, and blew out of the apartment, leaving us with a little human who stared at us with the same big brown eyes as her father and uncle.
Torre slipped his arm through mine. “We were going to decorate the tree tomorrow, but maybe Tina can help us, and we can do it now. It’ll make a fun afternoon project.”
“Ohhh yes, Uncle Torre, can we? Please?” Tina slid off the couch and jumped up and down.
Torre’s eyes twinkled at me. “It’s up to your Uncle Frisco, but I happen to know he’s a champion decorator.” He winked at me, and I had a flashback of the night I used his naked body as a canvas for my pastries and ate them off him, one by one.
“You are so going to owe me for this,” I murmured.
“Looking forward to it,” he responded and swung Tina into his arms. “Sure. We can even bake Christmas cookies. I know Uncle Frisco would love to do that too, right?”
“Oh, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I’m dying to bake cookies. Been on my bucket list for years. All the cookies.”
Tina giggled. “Uncle Frisco’s so funny.”
“Isn’t he sooo funny? He makes me laugh all the time.” Torre set her on the floor and helped her with her jacket.
I gave him a pained smile. He wouldn’t be laughing tonight when I got through with him. “How about we first take off your boots, so we don’t ruin Uncle Frisco’s incredibly expensive floors?”
Torre unzipped Tina’s boots and put them off to the side. “Would you like to see all the decorations we bought?”
“Uh-huh.”
Torre took her hand, and they walked across the apartment. My idea of a perfect winter day would not have included trimming a tree and decorating my apartment to entertain a six-year-old girl. Then again, there had never been a Christmas with family, because there’d been no Torre, so I was willing to make concessions.
She and Torre rummaged through the bags, taking out all the knickknacks and stuff he’d spent hours dragging me through innumerable stores to buy. I’d let him run rampant, getting whatever he wanted since I had no clue what belonged on a tree, nor did I care too much. We’d ended up with some kitschy reindeer and Santas, a collection of brightly colored balls, and other assorted oh-so-cute ornaments. I drew the line at “Our First Christmas,” earning me a muttered “Spoilsport,” from Torre.
“I’m hungry.” Tina sat with the bags and ornaments strewn around her, and I cocked a brow.
“Uncle Torre?” I gave him a winning grin.
He glared for a second. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
She scrunched up her face. “No, I had that yesterday. I want pasta like me and Uncle Frisco made.”
Now it was Torre’s turn to smile. “Oh, I’m sure Uncle Frisco would love to make pasta with you.”
“Uncle Frisco is going to take a nap,” I said.
“Oh.” Her little shoulders slumped, and her smile faded. Big, sad brown eyes gazed up at me.
Dammit.
“After we make our pasta. It doesn’t take long, remember?”
Her bright smile beamed at me, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d brought someone such unfettered happiness. Something tight squeezed in my chest.
“Yay.” She jumped up and down again, and I winced.
“Okay, come with me.” We crossed the living room to the kitchen, where I picked her up and set her on one of the high stools in front of the large, custom-built island spanning almost the entire length of the kitchen. “We have to wash our hands. That’s the first thing every professional chef has to do.” We rinsed our hands in the small prep sink. “Now, do you remember how we make it?”
“Uh-huh. I think so, ’cause I watch Mommy and Daddy do it too.” She scrunched up her face. “Flour, eggs, water, an’ salt.” She ticked off on her fingers.
“Good girl. Now I’ll measure it out, and you stir. How’s that?”
“ ’Kay.”
I took the flour out of the cabinet. Torre was there to hand me the eggs and gave me a kiss when I took them from him.
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Don’t think I’m not keeping score. At this rate, you may not sleep for a week.” But I kissed him back, and his tongue tasted sweet from the syrup we’d had on our waffles for breakfast. I could feast on him all day long.
“Challenge accepted, but first, focus,” Torre said, breathing heavily and a bit pink in the face. He touched my cheek. “I know you’re not really into having her here.”
“Well, I was planning a different kind of afternoon, but the wait will make it all the better, bello.” I kissed him again. “And it’s not a big deal. She’s a sweet girl.” I left him and returned to the large island, where I measured out the flour and the water. “Go ahead.” I pointed to the large, clear space on the marble top I’d had set in specifically for pastry and dough. “Do you remember how?”
“Yeah.” She dumped out the flour and giggled. “It’s like a big mess.”
I tenderly stroked my beautiful Gaggeneau stovetop.
God help my poor kitchen. I’ll make it up to you, my darlings. I promise.
Pros & Cons of Christmas by AE Wasp
1/We Need a Little Christmas
Sleet and snow lashed against the window of my study, and the electric heater set in the fireplace did its best to keep the cold from the unexpected blizzard at bay. While Niall reviewed the schedule for the tenth time in as many days, I resisted the urge to check the weather report for Palm Beach. Why torture myself? Whatever it was, it had to be nicer than this.
Besides, despite my daydreaming about palm trees and tropical breezes, sitting in front of a fireplace while a storm raged outside was wonderful in a completely different way. Best of all, I wasn’t on the run anymore, and the man I loved sat with me, safe from evil exes and federal investigations alike.
We didn’t have to hide our relationship anymore. Quite the opposite. I was still turning down interview requests. Miranda suggested that after the holidays I consider sitting down with some respected journalist (as if that weren’t an oxymoron) and putting out an official story. As much as I could see the necessity of doing so, I’d rather run naked through Piccadilly Circus. (I’d done the latter once upon a time in my wilder days and had ended up in bed with a man who claimed to be a member of the Saudi royal family. Historically, my interactions with the press had been much less satisfactory.)
This peaceful state would never last. The past always had a way of catching up with one and ruining one’s present, as evidenced by Leo’s obsessive ex and his very-nearly-successful plan to kill us both.
What spectre lurked unseen, threatening my nascent family and hard-earned yet fragile sense of security?
Niall looked up from his phone. “The drivers have checked in. Your guests will be here in approximately twenty minutes.”
Oh. My guests. The people we had invited to spend the week between Christmas and New Year’s with us. People who included Leo’s mother and father. Who hated me.
“They don’t hate you,” Leo said without looking up from the gossip rag he was perusing.
“I didn’t say anything,” I objected.
“You didn’t have to. For the last three months, you’ve said it every time their names have been mentioned.”
I rearranged the items on my desk. “Well…” I let the implication hang in the air.
Leo sighed and stood up from his chair in front of the fireplace. Crossing the few feet of antique Persian rug separating us, he rested one ass cheek on the top of the desk and took my hand. “They don’t hate you,” he assured me, kissing my palm. I cradled his cheek for a second. “They hate both of us.”
I yanked my hand away. “Thank you. I feel so much better now.”
Niall laughed, and I glared at him. Ignoring my glare, he turned over the paper Leo had been reading. “Is that even a photo of the two of you then?” he asked, handing it to me.
The picture accompanying yet another completely substanceless article about Leo and me was so blurry that it could have been a picture of Bigfoot and his boyfriend for all I could tell. The building in the distance was definitely Dashcombe Hall, but the two men embracing behind the boxwood hedge were not us. “I think it’s Carson and Eric.”
“Really?” Leo took the paper back, putting on the reading glasses he’d finally admitted he needed. I loved the way he looked in them, especially when he paired them with his favorite navy-blue jumper; it was very naughty professor-ish. Between the suits, the chaps, and the glasses, my cowboy had an outfit for every occasion. He was so… versatile.
“It’s not as if The Star is known for its journalistic integrity,” I commented. “I’ve read that even Wikipedia doesn’t consider them a reliable source of information and won’t allow them to be cited in their entries”
Leo grunted low as he flipped through the rag, brow furrowed in confusion at the stories of reality show ‘stars’ and London celebutants. “I don’t know any of these people.”
“Don’t even waste a single brain cell on them, love. We Brits have turned celebrating nobodies into an art form.” I took the paper out of his hand, rolled it up, and slipped it into the bin. “What we should be doing is enjoying our last remaining minutes of peace and quiet. Relative peace and quiet,” I amended after an incredulous look from Leo. No house, no matter how large, containing Steele and the Pfeiffer twins could ever be completely quiet.
“Yes,” Niall said. “The first wave of our American invasion arrives in”—he checked his classically subdued wristwatch—“approximately twelve minutes.”
I rubbed my temples.
“Don’t make that face at me,” Leo said. “This was your idea.”
Sadly, that was true. The house party was intended as a kind of peace offering to Leo’s parents, a substitute for the wedding reception we hadn’t had to which they had not been invited. This party had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I was starting to think past-me had been delirious from all the ‘thank God we didn’t die’ sex and shouldn’t have been allowed to make any decisions. “Are you ready to see your parents?” I asked him.
“No,” he admitted. “Are you sure you are?”
“It’s going to be fine,” I said, as much to reassure myself as him. “They will be dazzled by the sheer Britishness of your new life. We’ll ply them with tea and Yorkshire pudding until they have no choice but to love me.”
“And there’s the fact that you bribed them with first-class tickets and sent a limo to drive them to the airport.”
“It’s not a bribe. It’s a Christmas present. It will be okay,” I repeated. It had to be okay. One of us needed to have a healthy, whole family behind us. I wasn’t sure I could live with myself if I was the cause of a rift between Leo and his. And right now, they weren’t thrilled with either of us.
We had spent little time with Leo’s parents before ‘fleeing the country,’ which was how they referred to our departing to England. I didn’t blame them. They were hurt. They felt, and rightfully so, as if they had been kept out of a major part of their son’s life.
Not telling them about us was something we had argued about more than once. I felt he should have told them. He’d said it was too dangerous for them as well as for us.
I pointed out that since he always traveled to Texas for family events, and they never interacted with his colleagues, I didn’t see the danger of introducing me by some alias. It wasn’t as if he had to tell them the entire truth. It was an argument I had never won. Reluctantly, I had agreed with him.
And once again, our poor past decisions were coming back to haunt us.
I’d let my attention drift. Again. Niall was saying something about making alterations to his schedule on account of the weather. I spared a glance at the sheet of paper he’d handed me earlier.
Christmas dinner was scheduled for tomorrow night. That should be lovely. We had bought presents for everyone. The pile of gifts under the big tree in the entrance hall was absolutely massive. Amongst the outings Niall had planned were a Jurassic Coast walk to look for fossils, darts at the pub, and Sunday roast dinner. Those I would join. But the South Devon Railway and Otter Sanctuary? Good Lord. “Must I participate in these events?” I asked Niall.
He gave me the inscrutable look I imagined butlers since the dawn of butlering have given to their employers when they said something so obviously stupid. “I believe you don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to do, my—sir.”
“Right. Let me check with the boss.” I made a show of turning to face Leo. “Do I have to do these things?”
Leo tilted his head and looked at me over the edge of his glasses frames. “If I have to, then you do, too. Now, be good, William.” Ooh. Now he was the disapproving naughty professor and I the misbehaving student.
“Bloody bastard,” I whispered admiringly.
I could tell by the way his lips tightened that he was fighting a grin. He knew damn well the effect he was having on me.
“How much time do we have before the invasion?” I asked Niall. I could be up for a quickie. Heck, I was halfway ‘up’ simply contemplating one. Pun intended.
Leo laughed out loud. He knew what I was actually asking.
“Ten minutes,” Niall answered.
I pretended to stand up. “That is more than enough time for—”
“No,” Leo said.
“Party pooper.” If it had been proper for the son of an earl to stick out his tongue, I would have.
“As I was saying,” Niall said, trying to keep us on track, “I can make daily adjustments to the schedule based on the weather and make sure the daily schedules are delivered to the guests before or at breakfast.”
“Don’t make unnecessary work for yourself, Niall. You don’t have to go through all that fuss,” I assured him. “We can simply say all outings are weather permitting and provide a list of alternative activities they can do in the house.”
Niall handed me a second piece of paper. “These are the updated room assignments. I thought you might like to know where everyone will be located. When the driver checked in, he mentioned that Ms. Alvarez had an ankle injury and was using crutches, so I moved her to the Swan Suite on the ground floor.”
Leo shook his head in appreciation of Niall’s organizational skills. “You are very good at this, Niall. Were you a camp director in a past life? Boy Scout leader? Do you have Boy Scouts in England?”
Niall smiled at Leo. “I believe scouting originated in England with Lord Baden-Powell.”
“Really?” He looked to me for confirmation.
I shrugged. “Exactly which part of my background makes you think I know anything about scouting?”
“You are always prepared?” he suggested with a half-smile.
I waved the sheaf of papers Niall had given me. “I’m not sure any of us in this room is prepared for this.”
As if in illustration, the door cracked open and Ridge Pfeiffer slipped silently into the room. He was dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt. I rarely saw him in other colors. The only bright spot was his golden hair.
“We have a problem,” he said, eyes flicking to Niall and then back to Leo.
“What is it, Ridge?” Leo asked.
His eyes slid to Niall again. “It’s, ah, a professional thing.”
Oh. It was that kind of problem.
Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.
One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.
Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press.
A lifelong Oregonian, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with her supportive husband and their sweet kitten, Earl Grey. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just as weird in Raleigh.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope springs eternal. She’s published twenty novels and six novellas.
Riley Knight is an avid reader and has always had a soft spot for gay romances. What could be better than a sweet story between two beautiful men who need each other? It only seemed logical for Riley to write these steamy, emotional romances, focusing on an emotional and happy ending.
When not reading or writing, Riley can be found wandering the landscape and loves to go for long walks and observe all sorts of people and situations.
Felice Stevens has always been a romantic at heart. She believes that while life is tough, there is always a happy ending around the corner. Her characters have to work for it, because just like life in NYC, nothing comes easy and that includes love.
Felice is the 2020 Lambda Literary Award winning author in best Gay Romance. She lives in New York City and has way too much black in her wardrobe. If she's not writing, you'll probably find her watching reality TV or procrastinating on FB in her reader group, Felice's Breakfast Club.
A dreamer and an idealist, Amy writes about people finding connection in a world that can seem lonely and magic in a world that can seem all too mundane. She invites readers into her characters’ lives and worlds when they are their most vulnerable, their most human, living with the same hopes and fears we all have. An avid traveler who has lived in big cities and small towns in four different continents, Amy has found that time and distance are no barriers to love. She invites her readers to reach out and share how her characters have touched their lives or how the found families they have gathered around them have shaped their worlds.
Jay Northcote
INSTAGRAM / SMASHWORDS / B&N
EMAIL: jaynorthcote@gmail.com
Hamish Long(Narrator)
Beth Bolden
Riley Knight
Felice Stevens
EMAIL: felice@felicestevens.com
AE Wasp
Stuck with You by Jay Northcote
Merry Elf-ing Christmas by Beth Bolden
A Christmas Engagement by Riley Knight
The Gift of Forever by Felice Stevens
