Summary:
Single Dads All the Way
Mattie Blackwell is a different man than the one who left Sugar Pine all those years ago. He has high hopes his return will allow for a bit of wound licking, a boost to his art career, and the chance to settle down. He hasn’t allowed a certain someone to be included in those plans. After all, Mattie doesn’t even know if the man in question is still in town.
Sam Benton loves his unconventional life. He didn’t dream of being a work-from-home single parent to his twin sister’s kid for several months at a time, but the setup works just fine, thank you very much. Sure, he wonders if there’s more to life than web design, a snarky teen, and the endless torture of deciding what’s for dinner but, for now, there’s nowhere he’d rather be than raising Toby in Sugar Pine.
When Sam and Mattie find themselves thrown back together, it’s the perfect time to revisit the past. Sam feels bad about the way things played out, but both men recognize it wasn’t the right time for them back then. Now though? Well, that’s a whole different story.
A Sugar Pine Christmas is a standalone novella as part of the multi-author collaboration Single Dads All the Way. Expect friends-to-lovers, second-chance M/M holiday romance with an artist who is all-in with this whole settling down thing and a single dad-slash-uncle torn between longing for something more while mourning the passing of time as his little one moves full-steam ahead toward adulthood.
Summary:
Four-legged Cupid #1
It seemed like the perfect plan. Get out of town. Fast, and wait for the shrapnel of my blown-up life to settle.
I took a job in a small—and I do mean small—town up north as a pet groomer. There’s nothing to do, no place to go, so I should be able to stay out of trouble.
Except there’s this dog. No one seems to know where he belongs, and he thinks he belongs with me, so he follows me everywhere.
When his owner finally does show up, of course the man is an insufferable jerk. And incredibly gorgeous. And he needs a dog sitter.
Who am I to say no to a quick buck and a week of canine companionship? Besides, it’s too delicious to tease Jack with every update about how much his dog loves me. I wasn’t trying to make a life here. I had no intention of falling in love. I don’t think Jack was looking for romance either.
We both blame the dog for what happened next.
Summary:
Spandex and Superpowers #1
Rex Devious -- Dr. Devious to meddlesome do-gooders everywhere -- can go toe-to-toe with superheroes without blinking an eye. So picking out a Christmas present for his new boyfriend should be no problem. After all, he and Sanjay seem perfect for each other. But with a terrible track record for finding gifts that won’t scare his potential partners away, Rex is paralyzed with insecurity.
Until, of course, he decides to change tactics. Instead of having to pick out that perfect present, why not just destroy Christmas altogether? It’s perfect, and definitely the Devious thing to do! But with his nemeses -- and perhaps his conscience -- trying to stop him from ruining the beloved holiday, can he really become the supervillain who stole Christmas?
Now I read Charles Payseur's newest entry in this novella series, The Werewolf Before Christmas just a couple of weeks ago and it was obviously my introduction to his Spandex and Superpowers universe. I love it! I love superhero movies but I will admit that it is not a genre/trope that I read but after reading these that may change.
I think what really intrigues me most about this entry was again, we got to see the supervillain as the center of the story. Rex has not had much luck when it comes to his past relationships and Christmas gift giving so naturally, as a supervillain his solution is to stop the holiday this year instead of finding a gift for his new boyfriend, Sanjay. Apparently, that is easier said than done. I won't give anything away but let me just say this: How the Supervillain Stole Christmas was a delightfully fun, clever, sexy, and surprisingly romantic way to begin my holiday weekend. Whether you read this during the holidays won't matter because you'll be entertained whether Santa is coming down the chimney or lazying away on a weekend getaway in July.
RATING:
I think what really intrigues me most about this entry was again, we got to see the supervillain as the center of the story. Rex has not had much luck when it comes to his past relationships and Christmas gift giving so naturally, as a supervillain his solution is to stop the holiday this year instead of finding a gift for his new boyfriend, Sanjay. Apparently, that is easier said than done. I won't give anything away but let me just say this: How the Supervillain Stole Christmas was a delightfully fun, clever, sexy, and surprisingly romantic way to begin my holiday weekend. Whether you read this during the holidays won't matter because you'll be entertained whether Santa is coming down the chimney or lazying away on a weekend getaway in July.
Summary:
Mated at the North Pole #3
Can a mis-booked hotel room be the makings of a Christmas miracle?
Dominic Prancer comes from a long line of reindeer shifters responsible for pulling Santa’s sleigh every Christmas. When he’s not flying the sleigh, he’s helping keep the sleighs in tip top shape. He works too hard, which is why Santa demands he take a mandatory vacation.
Silas has been planning this vacation for six months and refuses to let something as silly as a breakup keep him from enjoying it. When he overhears Dominic’s room has been double booked and the omega has nowhere to stay, he offers to share his room with the reindeer shifter.
The two spend an entire week together, enjoying a vacation they both desperately needed. When they need to go their separate ways, Dominic back to the North Pole and Silas back to his suburban home, they realize just how deep their feelings have grown. Can they find each other again in time for Christmas?
Prancer is the third book in the multi-author M/M Shifter Mpreg Christmas romance series Mated at the North Pole, featuring Santa’s reindeer who find their mates while on a mandatory vacation. Prancer features an omega reindeer, an alpha who takes care of everyone but himself, a hotel mishap, and the best kind of present ever—true love, fated mates, an adorable baby, and a guaranteed happily ever after.
Collier's Creek Christmas
Two best friends. One secret crush. A kiss that changes everything.
There’s never been a time when Noel’s not been in love with his best friend Jed. The problem is, Jed’s straight. Always has been, always will be. Yet, as the festive season descends on Collier’s Creek there’s only one gift Noel craves: for Jed to wake up and realise they are meant to be together. But that’s never going to happen — or not until too many beers and a Christmas movie marathon ends in a steamy make out session.
Jed’s world is turned up side down. He’s straight. He dates girls, not guys. So why did the taste of Noel’s lips on his send delicious tingles zipping along his spine?
As carols play and stockings are hung, can Jed embrace his newfound feelings? Or will Noel's dreams of love melt away like snow?
Discover the magic of the season in this heartfelt story of friendship, secret desire, and small-town romance.
Celebrate the holidays with the men of Collier’s Creek, where magic fills the air and irresistible romances are the highlight of the festive season. Six low-angst romances, each filled with heartwarming moments and swoon-worthy romance.
#BestFriendsToLovers #BoyhoodFriends #BisexualAwakening #SecretCrush #AcceptingFamily #SmallTownRomance #FestiveLGBTQ #CuteDog #ChristmasInColliersCreek
A Sugar Pine Christmas by AD Ellis
ONE
Mattie Blackwell
“Who are you?” the blond kid asked as I hefted a box up the steps of the duplex. Being back in Sugar Pine was surreal, but at least I’d found a nice place to lick my wounds and settle back into my hometown.
The house was a two-story blue-green color. Steps from the sidewalk rose up to meet with three steps to the porch. The porch boasted a white railing, a swing, and two windows in the middle flanked on each far side by a door.
I placed the box on the porch swing and wiped my hands on my jeans. The Midwestern fall season hadn’t given up just yet, but a wintery chill danced on the air in promise of freezing temperatures to come.
When I thought I’d make it big in California, the gorgeous weather was one of the biggest draws. Along with escaping the town I’d grown up in and the guy who didn’t want me. But now, the thought of a real Sugar Pine winter had excitement coursing through me.
“Who are you?” I asked back with an easy smile. I liked kids. Didn’t want any myself, but I enjoyed giving them art lessons. Some of my friends had kids spanning from babies to teens, and I’d always been deemed good with them. Probably because I could hand them back to their parents when things got real.
The kid looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. Maybe eighth or ninth grade. Middle-schoolers were a tough crowd, but once you found your in with them, you were golden.
He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out his chin. “Sam!” he hollered over his shoulder. “There’s a man out here. He might be a creep.”
“What? No,” I started, but then I froze.
Sam?
No way in hell.
The door on the other side of the duplex opened, and fourteen years of moving on flashed in front of my eyes before crashing to a screeching halt.
Sam fucking Benton.
It wasn’t like I’d thought he’d moved away from Sugar Pine, but I also hadn’t truly thought he’d still be here.
Or at least I hadn’t let myself think about what it would mean if he was still here.
The worst part? The self-preservation side of me should have screamed at me to grab the box and run far, far away. Back to California, or maybe I’d give the East Coast a try. What about Oregon? Washington state? I’d heard they were lovely.
But I clearly had no self-preservation side because the only thing my dumb-ass mind could think of was how badly I wanted Sam back then.
And how damn fine he still looked now.
Fuck.
We’d both aged, but Sam wore it very well. His brown hair showed more silver. There were fourteen years of laugh lines. But his dark brown eyes still sent heat through me.
“Mattie?” Sam asked as he slipped dark-rimmed glasses to rest on the top of his head.
“Sam.”
In two long strides, Sam was across the porch pulling me into a hug. He smelled like home, and he felt even better.
“You two know each other?” the kid asked, arms still crossed, standing beside us glancing back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match.
“This is my friend, Mattie. He ran off back before you were born.” The edge in Sam’s voice offered just enough challenge for me to remember why I’d been so gone for this man.
We’d both come to Sugar Pine about the same time. Me returning from getting my art degree. Sam moving to town to be closer to his twin sister who, at that time, was stationed at a somewhat nearby Air Force base.
Sam and I had struck up an easy friendship, both of us living and working in the small town. Most friends my age had moved away when we finished college. Those who’d stayed were married and having kids. Sam was easy to talk to, and we spent many lunches chatting at the diner.
Evenings at the Sugar Pine Tap were spent sipping beers, laughing, and watching idiots fight over pool games.
And then, two years into our friendship, things changed.
I pushed the thoughts away and turned toward the kid. “I’m Mattie Blackwell. I used to live in Sugar Pine. You must be Tabitha’s son?”
He narrowed his eyes and threw a glance toward Sam. When the older man nodded, the kid stuck out his hand. “I’m Toby Benton. You know my mom?”
“I do. And I think she’s got a shit load of explaining to do.”
When I’d talked to my old friend Tabitha Benton, I’d forced myself to push the fact that she was Sam’s twin sister out of my mind. She said she had a perfect half of a duplex to rent to me, and I didn’t question it. I knew she was now a Major in the Air Force and did something with flying heavy aircraft when she was deployed, but I also knew she owned several properties in Sugar Pine and the surrounding towns.
Four towns butted up against each other in a tidy little square in Evergreen County—Sugar Pine, Red Pine, White Pine, and Jack Pine were all similar Midwestern towns, each vying to bring in the most tourism with their quaint festivals throughout the year, gorgeous scenery, and their namesake Christmas tree decorated on the town square each holiday season—although, not all of the pine types made great holiday décor.
All four had been settled at the same time and, since they were in the same geographic location, it was hard to tell a difference between them as Pine River split into four forks in the northwest corner of Evergreen County and ran right through each.
It was fun to visit each town to see the namesake pines growing and learn fun facts about them. All the trees were native, but the early folks had taken it upon themselves to plant more of one type in each town.
I was biased, but I thought Sugar Pine had the most interesting fact; when the town was originally settled, there was an argument about the type of trees they were planting. An older brother swore it was a Pitch Pine while the younger brother argued it was a Sugar Pine. The younger brother ended up dying in a hunting accident. Even though the older brother still swore the trees they planted were Pitch Pines, he honored his deceased brother by naming the town Sugar Pine.
Years later, it would be declared the trees they’d planted were indeed Pitch Pines, but everyone agreed Sugar Pine was a better name, so it stuck.
Along with their histories and fun facts, each town had its own festivals, food specialties, and claims to the most picturesque backdrops through every season.
But Sugar Pine was home, and it was the first place I wanted to be when I finally admitted California wasn’t for me.
Tabitha having a place for me was like fate.
But I should have questioned it.
Really should have questioned it.
Shit.
“She’s not here,” Toby said. “Gone for nine months.”
“Nine months?” I glanced toward Sam, and he nodded.
“Tabby and I live together,” he said. “She goes on deployment for six to twelve months. While she’s gone, I’m Super Uncle-Slash-Dad Extraordinaire.”
Toby snorted and rolled his eyes, but it was in good fun.
“When she’s home for the same amount of time, I take a backseat and let her be Mom of the Year.” He shrugged. “Been doing it since this one was born. It works for us.”
I glanced toward the door that was supposed to be my side of the duplex. “And you live on the other side?”
“We do. Moved in when Tabby got pregnant and moved to Sugar Pine; my apartment wasn’t gonna cut it.” Sam ran a hand down his face and scratched at the brown and silver scruff on his jawline. “I should have wondered why she was so vague about the new renter.”
I sighed. “Is this going to be okay?” I didn’t want to get into too much history in front of Toby.
I’d paid the first and last month’s rent. Tabby had sent pictures of the den I was going to use as a studio, and the basement where I’d be able to store my art supplies. I really liked the house.
Sam smiled easily. He’d always had an easy smile. “It’s fine. We’ll enjoy having a decent neighbor.”
“Do you smoke crack?” Toby asked, his eyes narrowed.
“What? No.” I scowled.
“The last guy smoked crack. We kicked him out. The people before that were nice, but they moved to Denver. Do you have kids? No one ever has kids my age. One guy had a big ol’ dog he let me play with.” Toby turned to Sam. “Can we have pizza rolls for lunch?”
Sam chuckled. “You can fix some in the air fryer as a snack. I’ll fix something a little healthier for lunch.”
Toby rushed into the house. “Bye, Mattie.”
Then it was just Sam and me.
“It’s really fine,” Sam said. “Tabitha is probably laughing her ass off—she never did give up on the idea of you and me together.”
I forced a smile. “Yeah, well, we both know how that played out. I’ll give her shit, but this place is way too nice to turn down.”
“It’s good to have you home,” Sam said. I’d forgotten how genuine he could be.
My heart thumped double-time with memories of the past—good and bad.
Home.
I was home.
Not going to lie, I really liked the idea of living so near to Sam.
Shit.
Yesterday, if you’d asked me about my past with Sam Benton, I would have scoffed it off as a momentary lack of judgment.
Immaturity.
A passing phase where I found myself hot for a man I considered a friend.
Wanting something I couldn’t have.
Nothing more.
But now?
Well, now had me face-to-face with my past, and every cell in my body rejoiced.
Moving on hadn’t worked well at all it seemed.
Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, but seeing Sam brought back every single memory. Sure, it was unrequited back then, and probably now, but that didn’t mean my dumb ass wasn’t going to fall right back into being hot and bothered by the man.
We’d been friends back then.
We hadn’t ended on bad terms, just realistic ones.
Sam and I were nearing forty now. We’d lived a lot of life since then. Surely, we could be pleasant neighbors. Maybe even rekindle the friendship.
Like friendship is all you want.
Yeah, well.
Unless things had changed drastically over the years, Sam wasn’t interested.
I’d just have to admire from afar.
I was an artist. Pain and suffering fueled my work.
Looked like I’d have plenty of it.
I hoped my clients were ready for lots of longing desire and pining in my upcoming works.
But I was home in Sugar Pine to create new pieces, tackle the new job I’d taken on, and spend Christmas in my hometown for the first time in fourteen years.
Anything with Sam would just be icing on the cake.
Holiday Pup-capade by Jaime Samms
Bryce had begun to regret going this far north pretty much the moment he’d climbed the steps onto the Ontario Northland bus. Sure, it had seemed like a great idea at the time. The ticket was a cheap—ish—way to get out of town for a while, avoid getting dragged back into Bernie’s bullshit, and most of all, avoid seeing all the happy-lovey holiday coupling that was happening everywhere he turned.
He should have read the small print.
Dog groomer needed. City of Greater Sudbury. Start Date November 26. Experience required. Apply online.
Of course they wanted people to apply online. No way did they want their applicants to see the desolate land they would have to move to for the job.
Bryce had applied with a mostly bogus list of non-existent jobs and references on his resume and miraculously—or so he’d thought at the time—gotten the gig, which was great. Except no one had mentioned to him that the “City of Greater Sudbury” covered a lot of ground no one in their right mind would ever consider even remotely ‘city’.
The house he’d found to rent was tiny and a good twenty-minute drive out of the city proper, with crap transit service that took more than twice as long and only passed through the tiny town he now lived in every two hours. The amenities, though comprehensive, were hardly flash. One Tim Horton’s, a Subway, a Home Hardware, one grocery store—an expensive one at that—and a couple of bars in strip malls that looked pretty sus, if he was honest.
Three gas stations, though. Two right across the road from one another. Because obviously, anyone who lived in the little town—Lively, which did not live up to its name—wanted out as quickly and as often as possible.
And sadly, while the house had come sparsely furnished, it had not included a snowblower. Not that he would have known how to use one. Since the drive was a million feet long and three cars wide, he only shovelled a walking path from the front steps to the road, and even with that, he could look forward to being nice and buff by the end of the winter.
The one saving grace of the place was the dog. He had no idea where he came from. One day there he was, a bundle of white fluff curled on the front porch watching the front door. With a happy grin, the dog escorted him on the ten-minute walk to the pet shop that first day, and every day since, snow or sunshine. At least he was close to work and didn’t have to take that miserable bus ride to and from every day. So there was that, too.
His husky personality made him a gangly klutz in his almost German Shepherd body, too big and barrel-chested to be a sled dog, too goofy to be anything else. Sadly, his appearance was dire. It looked like he’d blown coat at some point in the early winter, and large tufts of his all-white fur dangled from his sides. The budding groomer in Bryce itched to get at him with a comb and a bottle of shampoo.
But the guy hiding out in a podunk town north of everything wasn’t keen to draw attention to himself by hijacking someone else’s dog. Even if that someone else clearly didn’t give the animal the attention he craved, or the basic care he deserved.
It was a mystery to Bryce how the dog’s people didn’t know he was missing all day every day. Whenever Bryce left the shop to go across the highway for a sub, or through the parking lot for Tim’s, the dog was there waiting, ready to accompany him.
How the pup knew he didn’t work Sunday and Monday, he had no idea, but when he peered outside on those days, there was no dog on his porch. If he did leave his house on his days off, it didn’t take long for the mutt to appear, like magic, always from behind Bryce so he had no idea which direction he had come from.
Today, as he trudged through the growing cold towards the pet shop in what passed for the business center at this end of town, the dog was, as always, by his side, fluffy crooked tail waving steadily, a husky grin on his face.
“You know it figures,” he said to him. “That the welcome wagon around here is a winter dog.”
The dog grinned up at him with a wagging tail and bright eyes, in full agreement that he was the best thing ever.
“Not that the people aren’t nice,” he assured it. They were. He was used to there being more of them, though. And if he was honest, he was used to keeping himself to himself, even among the higher population he was used to. He didn’t need to be sharing all his business with random strangers, but around here, random strangers tended to strike up conversations in the Tim Horton’s line or at the grocery check out. It was weird, and he wasn’t sure he was a fan of the practice.
He also didn’t think he had to talk about the weather one more time. Like, ever. What was there to talk about? Snow. With a chance of more snow. Or sunny and freeze-your-balls-off cold. Old people complained there wasn’t as much snow or cold as when they’d been his age.
He’d valiantly—so far—resisted the urge to ask which ice age that had been.
Young people complained the snow was ruining their suede boots, and the wind biting through their jackets. He was less successful about resisting the urge to ask why, in the name of all that was weather related, were they wearing suede ankle boots and jean jackets, and not full-coverage, arctic-rated snowsuits if they’d grown up here? He at least had the excuse that it never got this cold, the snow never piled up like this, south of Barrie, where he’d grown up.
His Converse sneakers had hit the back of the closet the first week. He’d replaced them with minus-forty-rated snow boots from Mark’s Work Warehouse, paid for with his first tiny paycheck, and screw the fact he’d had to live on ramen until he got paid again. He hadn’t even begrudged the miserable, nauseating forty-minute bus ride into Sudbury and back to get them. Or the return trip two weeks later for the parka he now snuggled deep into against both the blinding sun bouncing off the snow and the cold completely ignoring the sun’s attempt to burn it away.
He’d missed the dog on those trips, though. Maybe the company might have kept his mind off his roiling stomach and the relentless motion sickness.
He was about to explain to the dog why animals should be allowed on public transport when his phone rang from the depths of his new parka’s pocket.
“Hold that thought,” he told his walking partner, and flipped the tip if his mitten’s thumb off so he could answer it.
“Why are you so far away?” Liesel’s whine made Bryce grit his teeth. He loved her, not her pouting.
“You know why.”
“Bernie, yeah. You said. Just tell him to fuck off.”
“I have, Lise. You know he doesn’t listen. And I’m sick and tired of the way he’s always pushing. I didn’t mind being a stripper, but I draw the line at lap dances and fucking the clientele.”
“So don’t.”
“If only he made it that easy. You know what he did to Mitch.”
“Which one is Mitch?”
“He got me my first gig, remember?”
“Oh! The sleazy one.”
“He’s not sleazy, he’s my cousin.”
“Oh yeah.” She had the decency to sound a little bit sorry for being mean.
“He had a rough patch. Which Ira says he’s getting over, so give him a break.” But he’d only had it because Bernie tried to get him hooked to make the pimping seem less gross. Bryce kicked at a chunk of snow, sending it sailing over the high bank.
The dog bounded after it like the goof he was.
“Didn’t Bernie get him blackballed for using?”
“Only when he started to refuse the side show. But he’d started to clean himself up by that point, according to Ira.”
“Always according to Ira.” She sounded angry still, which Bryce didn’t really understand. She and Ira had been friends long before Bryce has met either of them.
“Don’t at him, Lise.”
“He blew up your life.”
“Maybe my life needed blowing up. Mitch’s sure did. I’m only upset the charges against Bernie didn’t stick. He’s the one making it impossible for any of us to stick around now.”
“Except Ira.”
“Because he has Jed, which you know is a good thing.”
She sighed heavily. “So Herschel keeps saying.”
“Listen to your boyfriend. He may be a muppet—”
“Careful. He’s my muppet.”
Bryce chuckled. “I know. This whole domestic thing looks good on you.”
“Hey, did I show you the ring he got me?”
“Like, a dozen pictures. Yes.”
“But not in person.”
“Lise…”
“When will you be back?”
“When Bernie isn’t making it too dangerous for me to be there.”
“He’s all bark. No bite.”
“He has people with plenty of bite. All he has to do is rattle the right chains and I’m dog food. Not taking that chance. This is safer for everyone.”
There was a pause, and Bryce imagined her pouring herself coffee from the fancy plunger coffee pot her new beau insisted on leaving at her apartment. “So, be here for Christmas, then?”
“Only if that asshole is behind bars. He has it in for me, and you know this. I’m not taking any chances.”
“He just doesn’t like that you talked all his young ones out of his stable.”
If there was one thing Bryce could say he’d done right so far in his life, it was exactly that. He had talked a few of Bernie’s dancers into leaving the business before they got in too deep. He was proud of that, at least, even if he wished the rest of it could be buried in a deep hole and never spoken of again. “Too bad I got my own cousin into it,” he muttered.
“Hey. Don’t do that. Mitch got you into it, and he knew what he was getting into. You said yourself, he’s getting better, right?”
“Hope so. Can we not talk about that anymore?”
“Sure. Tell me about your new gig.”
How the Supervillain Stole Christmas by Charles Payseur
Sanj laughed. “I forget that you’ve never really worked in an office,” he said. “But it’s ... I’m not even sure that anyone likes it. Everyone drinks too much except the people who don’t like drinking and take pictures to remind people of how stupid they were acting for the next year. There’s terrible cookies and a tray of cheese and crackers and ...”
“You’re not exactly selling it,” Rex said. It sounded like a nightmare, a torment of fake smiles and repressed frustration.
“But it’s also that feeling,” Sanj said. “Of Christmas. Of childhood and presents and magic and wonder. That must be why people get so upset about it. They remember the Christmases when they were young and it was all about them, and then they see where they are now and ... well ...”
Rex had a sudden vision of his own childhood. Christmas in the castle had always been a grand affair, decorations hung from every window and sconce. And Rathfeld, the butler, standing next to a tree that seemed to take up the entire great room, stoic face betraying just the hint of a smile. And the gifts. His mothers always got him the best gifts. There was the year of the Super Magnet that he used to erase the data on all the computers at his boarding school. He recalled his mothers smiling. And the year of the Freeze Ray he had used to turn the pool into a block of ice to get out of swimming lessons.
The nanobots are present in sufficient quantity to deploy, Audrey said, snapping Rex out of his reveries.
“Do you have fond Christmas memories, then?” Rex asked.
“I’ll tell you sometime when I’m much less sober than I am now,” Sanj said, and they both laughed, leaning against each other, faces close, breath hot in the chill air.
Deploy, Rex thought as he leaned farther forward, his lips finding Sanjay’s, his eyes closing.
Deployment commencing, Audrey said, but Rex was hardly paying attention. Much more urgent was the tongue slipping into his mouth, the hand resting on his hip, the sudden painful heat that seared its way through his entire body.
I’m detecting a deviation from protocol, Audrey said. It pulled at the corner of Rex’s mind, but he didn’t stop, didn’t want to stop the way Sanjay’s hands had moved around to his back, to his ass. There was a gasp from nearby, and Rex felt a swell of worry. They were in public, after all, and as much as he wanted this to continue, he knew they couldn’t ... not here.
He broke the kiss, pulling back and -- and what the fuck?
I’m detecting a deviation from protocol, Audrey said.
Rex blinked. She wasn’t kidding. The entire tree lot was lit up. Not with rapidly disintegrating Christmas trees, though. He realized that the gasp had nothing to do with him and Sanjay making out among the trees. No, it was at the brilliant light displays going on in each and every tree present. Somehow the nanobots were ...
Instead of deconstructing the trees at a prodigious rate, as intended, the nanobots seem to be slowly eating the organic material and transforming the power into luminescence.
They were glowing. The entire lot was glowing with hundreds of millions of nanobots flickering like fireflies on the branches, among the needles. Rex stared, saw everyone around him doing the same. It was ... magical.
“But ... how?” Rex whispered. There was no way that his protocols could have been that far off. They were devouring the trees, yes, but would they complete their job in time?
According to my calculations, the trees will be completely digested about a week after Christmas, leaving no waste or mess. The bots seem to be programmed to self-destruct at the stroke of midnight, giving off small puffs of light.
Fireworks for New Years. Great.
And I’m getting an incoming message from Tech Knight. Ey says, “I fixed your little nanobots for you. No need to thank me.”
Tech Knight. Figured. Of course Metro City’s resident supernerd would stick eir nose into his plans. Rex turned to Sanjay, saw the smile spread across his face.
“It’s ... perfect,” Sanj said.
Rex sighed, shook his head, and wrapped his arms around Sanjay again. It was beautiful, Rex had to admit, and it did mean that no one was paying any attention as Rex leaned back in for another kiss.
Prancer by Toby Wise
PROLOGUE
SILAS
“You can’t be serious right now.”
“Of course I’m serious, you ass,” I say, my voice coming out more shrill than I meant for it to be. “Get the fuck out of my house. We’re through.”
“Babe, come on.”
“Don’t call me that. You’ve lost the right to call me anything other than my name.” I run my fingers through my hair, my body tense with frustration. “I don’t understand you, Roy. You literally told me you didn’t love me anymore and that you’ve been seeing someone else. Did you think I’d just look the other way and pretend everything is fine?”
“Whatever,” he finally says, showing his true colors. “I was trying to save your feelings so we could go on that stupid trip together still. Your parents forked out a lot of money for that.”
“I’ll go by myself. Now fuck off.” I huff in frustration, opening my door and watching as he finally picks up his bags and leaves. I shut the door behind him, letting out a long breath. I step away, wishing I could send the ache inside my chest away as well.
After making sure the door is all locked up, I head further into my home until I find my sofa, flopping down on it face first. Burying my face against the cushion I let out a long groan that feels like it comes from my very soul. I let myself sit there for a long time, just feeling incredibly sorry for myself.
I wonder if I should feel sadder than I actually do. Roy and I were together for three years. When we first got together it was fun and easy. We mostly fucked if I’m being honest with myself. Can’t really talk and notice our differences if our mouths were always busy. As time went on, it was obvious we weren’t compatible outside of the bedroom but we held on. Emotionally, I think we’ve been checked out for a long time but hearing the words I don’t think I love you was enough to finally stir me into breaking things off officially.
The only thing I wasn’t expecting was for Roy to fight so hard to stay together just a little bit longer. Why the fuck would he want to stay if he doesn’t actually love me?
I flip over onto my back, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. That damn vacation is next month. Do I really want to experience an entire week at a resort all by myself? Couple spa day, couple massage, couple amenities. Fuck.
It’s been over three years since I’ve been on a proper vacation and I deserve this time off, even if I have to do it alone. Honestly I’m not even sure how I found time to stay in this relationship. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for Roy to find someone else, because I’m never around.
Being a doctor means I have crazy hours and that’s without adding volunteer hours in our free clinic. I’ve given my entire being to that hospital without much thanks, but that’s never bothered me before. I don’t do it for thanks, I do it for my patients. They need me.
I’ve been planning this vacation for six months now, letting my patients know I’ll be gone and making sure there’s other doctors around to cover any emergencies. I have to go.
If I’m lucky, I’ll meet a cute omega who’ll distract me from all of these worries. I deserve a little fun. I deserve some time off to kick back with a mojito or three. Plus, my best friend will never let me live it down if I don’t go. She’s been badgering me to get out of the hospital more.
Groaning, I pick up my phone to send her a message. A moment later my phone rings.
“Hey, Cora.”
“Oh, Silas. I’m so sorry you’re hurting,” she says, her voice coming out soft. “Are you doing okay?”
I let out a long breath. “Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“I think I’m okay.”
I can hear the smile in Cora’s voice when she responds. “Good. You were always too good for him, Silas. I wanted to be supportive, but I never liked him. You’re so much better off without him!”
I can’t help but grin right back, overwhelmed with gratitude that my best friend is beside me through thick and thin. No matter what, she’s got my back. “He wasn’t all bad.”
“You’re right, he had a fantastic ass,” she says, making us both burst into a fit of giggles. I lay back against my couch, staring up at the ceiling as I tell Cora what happened and what he said. My chest still aches but it’s distant, something I know will heal quickly. I’m going to be okay.
Meeting Mr. Christmas by Ali Ryecart
CHAPTER ONE
Curled up on his squashy couch with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, mellow jazz turned low in the background, Noel Christmas flicked through the pages of the Collier’s Creek Chronicle, packed with gossip and tittle tattle masquerading as not very good journalism. Turning to what was laughingly called the Life Style section, the headline hit hard between the eyes. ‘Love at First Swipe — Dating App Connects Collier’s Creek LGBTQ+ Singles. Cupid’s romance-tipped arrows have struck the heart of our small town…’
Noel read through the article, which detailed testimonials from couples who’d found each other through the lonely hearts app which had burst on the local scene just weeks before. Photos of smiling couples, all of them effusive in their praise for Love Heartz. Noel snorted. Love Heartz? Really? The name of the app was enough to make him want to gag. Love Heartz, it was claimed, had, with a few clicks, brought romance and warmth into countless cold and barren lives. Noel rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe cold and barren weren’t the actual words used by Honey Sweeting, The Chronicle’s lifestyle guru, but that was the real meaning behind the gushing, saccharine prose.
Peering closely at the least out-of-focus photograph, Noel studied Love Heartz’ latest success story. Bruce and Kevin, hand in hand and wearing matching I Love Collier’s Creek sweaters and cowboy hats, had, according to Honey’s strangled prose, recently announced their engagement and would be celebrating with family and friends at Randy’s Rodeo Grill and Bar, The Creek’s premier ribs and steak restaurant (discount coupon available for parties of ten or more) for an evening filled with love, laughter and line dancing. ‘Love Heartz is such a breath of fresh air,’ Bruce, seventy-two years-young, said…’ Noel spat out his mouthful of hot chocolate, spraying the smiling, loved-up couple. Whatever glittering career Honey Sweeting had ahead of her, it wasn’t in journalism. Bruce, dwarfed by his sweater and cowboy hat, couldn’t have been older than forty… ‘I’d given up on finding a true connection and happiness when so many dating apps are just photograph after photograph of anatomy it wouldn’t be right to mention in a wholesome family publication like The Chronicle…’
Noel’s cell, sitting on his coffee table, vibrated; reaching for it, the familiar twist of anticipation pulled tight in his chest.
Meet me at CC’s in 30?
Sure, see you there :) Noel typed back.
Noel threw aside the newspaper, Collier’s Creek’s lonely gay hearts forgotten. Mid-morning, mid-week, Jed should have been at work in the town’s one and only florist, Floristry by Lucian Blaxston. Noel couldn’t help the involuntary smile pulling at his lips. Jed, tall, broad, muscular, and so damn good looking it should have been a crime, his best and oldest friend, and life long secret crush, wasn’t anybody’s idea of a trainee florist.
Stretching out his stiff shoulders, Noel yawned; he could do with getting out for a while. He’d logged on before 6:00am and been hunched over his laptop for most of the time since then. His tech job, creating and testing applications for mobile devices, not only paid well, it came with the benefit of working from home, but it was too easy, sometimes, to forget to leave his apartment — or it would be if it weren’t for the fur baby.
“Hey, Peter. Wanna go see Jed?” Noel looked down at his miniature dachshund curled up next to him on the couch. Peter wriggled and barked, pushing himself to standing on his stubby legs as his tail whipped from one side to the other. “I take it that’s a yes.”
With Peter wrapped up in his snazzy tartan coat and matching hat, Noel pulled on his big, padded jacket. Ramming on his rainbow patterned woolen hat with tasseled ear flaps and winding his soft, fluffy, bright pink scarf around his neck, he threw a glance at himself in the hallway mirror before he grabbed his keys and wallet. Was this really how a man of twenty-three was supposed to look? He doubted it, but as winter had descended on Collier’s Creek over the last few days, bringing snow and chasing away the last, lingering remnants of fall, he didn’t care because what he did care about was spending time with Jed.
Escape into addictive, sexy, emotional M/M romance.
A.D. Ellis is an Indiana girl, born and raised. She spends much of her time in central Indiana as an instructional coach/teacher in the inner city of Indianapolis, being a mom to two amazing teens, and wondering how she and her husband of over two decades haven't driven each other insane yet. A lot of her time is also devoted to phone call avoidance and her hatred of cooking.
She loves chocolate, hot tea, sweet wine with friends, pizza, and naps along with reading and writing romance. These loves don’t leave much time for housework, much to the chagrin of her husband. Who would pick cleaning the house over a nap or a good book? She uses any extra time to increase her fluency in sarcasm.
A.D. uses she/they pronouns.
This author is against the use of generative AI.
Jaime SammsLost. Broken. Found…loved. Romance for all.
Jaime is a plaid-hearted Canadian who spends the long cold winters writing stories about love between
men and the too-short summers digging in the garden. There are dust bunnies in the corners of her
house—which she blames on a husky named Kai.
There are dishes on the counter—which is clearly because teenagers! There is hot coffee in the pot and the occasional meal to keep her from starving—because her husband is remarkable and patient.
A multi-published author whose work has been translated into French, Italian and German, Jaime delights in the intricate dance of words that leads her through tales of the lost and broken-hearted men she writes about, to the love stories that find and mend them.
And when the muse is being stubborn, she also makes pretty things with yarn and fabric scraps because in her world, no heart is too broken to love, and nothing is too worn or tired it can’t be upcycled into something beautiful. All it takes is determination and the ability to see life a little bit left of centre.
Charles PayseurCharles Payseur is an avid reader, writer, and reviewer of speculative fiction. His works have appeared in The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy, Lightspeed Magazine, and Beneath Ceaseless Skies, among others, and many are included in his debut collection, The Burning Day and Other Strange Stories (Lethe Press 2021). He is the series editor of We’re Here: The Best Queer Speculative Fiction (Neon Hemlock Press) and a multiple-time Hugo and Ignyte Award finalist for his work at Quick Sip Reviews. When not drunkenly discussing Goosebumps, X-Men comic books, and his cats on his Patreon (/quicksipreviews) and Twitter (@ClowderofTwo), he can probably found raising a beer with his husband, Matt, in their home in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.
Toby Wise is a stay at home parent who hails from a tiny town in Wisconsin. Contrary to popular Wisconsin stereotypes, he’s not a cheese-head who enjoys beer but rather an introvert who spends all his time on the internet, drinking coffee, spending time with his kid, and cooing about his adorable cat, Pikachu.
In April of 2019, A Collection of Strays was born after the world of fanfiction drew him back into his love of writing. Now he’s writing all things omegaverse and paranormal as long as it includes silly moments and found family.
I used to tell my stories to myself, now I tell them to the world…
The stories I only ever told to myself took place in a world where it was boy meets boy, where best friends became more, where the hero didn’t save the damsel but the hot guy he’d been secretly crushing on.
I wanted to read those stories. I craved to read those stories. But those stories weren’t out there. Or that’s what I thought… Until one Christmas, when I unwrapped a shiny new e-reader. All it took was a few clicks, and my world changed forever.
I found my tribe.
But there is life outside of MM & gay romantic fiction in all its configurations. Allegedly.
When I’m forced to switch off the trusty, faithful word machine, there’s a husband to feed and talk to, pubs to drink in, and cake to eat. I love to do all those things and more, before I rush back to write all the words.
I’m a Londoner, born and bred and even though I now live just outside of the big bad city, I’m close enough to hop on a train so I can get my regular metropolitan fix.
AD Ellis
Jaime Samms
Charles Payseur
Toby Wise
A Sugar Pine Christmas by AD Ellis
Holiday Pup-capade by Jaime Samms
How the Supervillain Stole Christmas by Charles Payseur
Prancer by Toby Wise
Meeting Mr. Christmas by Ali Ryecart
