Saturday, January 1, 2022

Saturday's Series Spotlight: Naughty or Nice Part 1



Dear Daddy, Please Love Me by Gianni Holmes
Summary:
Naughty or Nice #1
Dear Santa,
I know I haven’t exactly been a good boy this year, and I deserve nothing but coal in my stocking. 
But, unlike some people I know, I don’t wait until the Christmas holiday to bring pleasure to men. That has to count as something nice, right?

I’m tired of being with men who always leave so I’m asking for something a bit different. Something I’m afraid of wanting. Please Santa, help me find a Daddy who will love me. 
Cheeky_Bottom 

Down on his luck rancher, Lawson is in no position to be in a relationship when he’s one late mortgage payment away from losing his spread. He definitely should not want the high maintenance stripper Cheeky_Bottom who’s looking for love from a Daddy. Been there. Done that. And he has the debt to show for it.

“Possessions over people” has always been Opie’s mission statement in life. His possessions remain as long as he takes care of them, but people always leave. When he meets a mysterious rancher online, Opie has a feeling things were about to change. Has Opie finally found the Daddy he won’t let walk away this time?

Dear Daddy, Please Love Me is part of the Naughty or Nice multi-author series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but there are so many boys hoping that holiday magic will bring them their perfect Daddy, why not grab them all?



Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me by Chara Croft
Summary:
Naughty or Nice #2
Dear Santa,
Not sure if I made your naughty list this year or the nice one, but I suppose it doesn't matter since all I want for Christmas is a hot Daddy to spank my a** until I cream, and that kind of fits either way, right?

Nah, I'm not being greedy. Hear me out. If I somehow made the nice list, then—besides the fact that you should definitely check your algorithms—a Daddy who can actually help me get my shit together is probably the only thing that will help me stay there. But if you've got me on the naughty list (and let's be real, I was lying when I said I wasn't sure; we both know you do) then I'm pretty sure I deserve that spanking.

And Santa? Any Daddies you want to send my way can get a free preview of what they’re signing up for on my YouTube channel. Hit me up, and don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe.
JustAPrettyFace

The last thing Jordan Wendt wants is a Daddy. Someone else in his life to come in and tell him what a fuck-up he is, when he’s already perfectly aware? Oh, hell no. Besides, not to sound shallow—well, maybe a little bit, but just keeping it real—but old dudes just aren’t his thing. Still, when he gets roped into signing up for the kinky dating app Cuffd and sending a “letter to Santa” as part of a holiday promotion on his YouTube channel, he’s more than willing to play it up. Anything for more subscribers, you know? Especially since the channel is the only thing he’s got going for him.

Andy Archer is as vanilla as they come. So vanilla, in fact, that he didn’t even realize vanilla was anything but a latte flavor before he accidentally fell down a Google rabbit hole and ended up fifty shades more knowledgeable than he ever expected to be about the world of kink. And okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely “accidental,” but when he stumbled across a video of his former high school crush asking Santa to bring him a Daddy for Christmas, Andy is determined to find out what the heck that means. Because sure, Andy isn’t exactly Daddy material and Jordan has always been a little—okay, maybe a lot—out of his league, but if there’s ever a time to believe in miracles, it’s Christmas, right?

Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me is part of the Naughty or Nice multi-author series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but there are so many boys hoping that holiday magic will bring them their perfect Daddy. Why not grab them all?




Dear Daddy, Please Hold Us by Colette Davison
Summary:
Naughty or Nice #3
Dear Santa,
If I could make one wish this Christmas, it would be for a Daddy with a big enough heart for two. We both want a Daddy who can be loving, but also firm when he needs to be, who enjoys spanking his boys and making their asses red, and with big enough arms to hold us both.

We need a Daddy who can help us let go and relax.

Lastly, but probably most importantly, we need a Daddy who can meet both our needs. I don’t have many boundaries as long as I can trust my Daddy, and I’m open to trying new things. Rett…well, he’s a little more reserved but he has a huge heart, and he’s the sweetest boy you’ll ever meet.

Here’s the thing, Santa: I have a little over a week to convince Rett to stay. I don’t know if you can magic up a Daddy who can love us both, but I’m making this wish anyway.

With hope,
Zeke

Dear Daddy, Please Hold us is an MMM Christmas romance, with a pair of army brats, an Englishman in New York who knows how to handle them, a purple triceratops teddy, and lots of sweet cuddles.

This book is part of the Naughty or Nice multi-author series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but there are so many boys hoping that holiday magic will bring them their perfect Daddy, why not grab them all?



Dear Daddy, Please Love Me by Gianni Holmes
1
Opie
Fuming, I stormed into the apartment I shared with my roommate and slammed the door for good measure. The childish act did very little to calm my nerves. I shrugged off my coat and threw it onto the coat hanger, aiming a middle finger at it when the material landed on the floor instead.

“Maddy!” I yelled for my best friend, swiping the coat up from the ground. I jammed it onto the hideous hook thingy Maddy had bought and insisted was a coat rack. I always thought it looked more like something to guard the apartment from intruders. It looked ugly enough to scare the shit out of anyone who had the misfortune of running into it in the dark.

Unfortunately, I had. Countless times and it still wasn’t enough for Maddy to get rid of it.

“Maddy, I need you!”

No sound from my best friend in the apartment, but I knew he was home. The blue Honda Civic his last boyfriend had bought him was parked in its designated spot on the property.

I hurried past my bedroom to Maddy’s and flung the door wide open.

“Maddy, guess what the oh-oh!”

“Oh my god!” Maddy screamed.

Something sailed through the air, and I ducked. I turned to regard the object, which had bounced off the wall and now lay at my feet.

“Is that a dildo you threw at me?” I gaped at Maddy, who’d ripped off his headphones and pulled the towel on the bed over his naked body. The loud masculine grunts punctuated by “fuck me harder” coming from the speaker of his computer beside him on the bed distracted me from why I had entered his room in the first place.

Well, that sounds interesting.

“I panicked.” He clutched the edges of the towel together for dear life. His face was bright red, which made his freckles less pronounced than they usually were with his pale complexion.

“You panicked? It’s just me.”

“I can see that now, but I didn’t know at first.”

I smiled bemusedly. “So what? You were hoping to assault me with a dildo?”

He glowered at my chuckle. “You’d looove that, wouldn’t you?”

“Exactly. Next time, grab the night light.” The heavy, mean-looking, old-fashioned thing could cause some serious brain damage.

“How about next time you fucking knock like every other human being would have done?”

I shrugged. “You didn’t lock the door.”

“I thought I was alone!” He shuffled off the bed, then marched past me to the dildo, looking like a corseted bride in the regency era, trying not to show anything untoward. He failed. The towel wasn’t big enough to cover his skinny ass.

“You told me you were going to see Robert.” He waved the dildo at me. “I didn’t expect you back until Monday.”

I shook my head. “So that’s what you do all day when I’m not home? Jerk off?”

“For your information, I wasn’t jerking off.”

“Looks like it to me. I don’t even know why you’re upset. We’re roommates and best friends. It’s only natural I’d walk in on you once.”

“No!” The dildo was getting pretty close to my face now. “I’ve never once walked in on you because I knock. You’ve got to start respecting my boundaries, Opie.”

“Eh, that thing’s not used, is it?” I pointed at the dildo.

“Of course not.” He flung it onto the bed. “I didn’t get the chance to use it because someone always manages to ruin my time.”

“It’s just been four times.”

“In one year!”

“I’m sorry. I just really needed you to bitch with me a little.” I pouted.

With a sigh, Maddy walked over to the bed and found the clothes he’d discarded.

“Turn around.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Didn’t he realize I already knew what he looked like completely naked? When he bent over, I’d gotten a glimpse of his asshole. And some other mighty fine bits. What was there left to hide?

“I’m dead serious. It’s either that or find yourself on the other side of that door.”

I turned my back to him. “Just so you know, I think this is bullshit. I’m comfortable being naked around you.”

I really was. In fact, I imagined myself a bit of a nudist, and it wasn’t uncommon for me to walk around my bedroom bare-assed. I wouldn’t mind traipsing around like that in the entire apartment, but one of Maddy’s rules for me living here was that I had to confine my nakedness to my bedroom.

Apparently, my nudity made some people uncomfortable. You’d have thought we were all born in Gucci and Armani.

Considering how little rent I paid for my room, I was okay to compromise. Maddy’s father owned the building and had put Maddy in charge. Another way of saying he didn’t want his gay son hanging around him, so he got him something to occupy his time meaningfully so Maddy would leave him alone.

“What did you want?” Maddy said, clothes rustling as he got dressed. “And I hope it’s something urgent.”

The reminder of my argument with Robert heated me up again.

“Robert broke up with me!”

“What? But he’s sweet on you.”

I snorted. “Apparently, not sweet enough. He already has another boy to replace me, and I hate it. How can he do that to me? He can’t be tired of me already. Usually, it takes longer for men to discard me. What am I doing wrong, Maddy?”

“Invading people’s privacy for one.”

“But I never even looked through his phone.” I cringed at the lie. “Okay, maybe only once, and he doesn’t know it.”

“Well, men hate that sort of thing. It means you don’t trust him.”

“I was right not to trust him. Didn’t you hear me say he already has another boy?”

“You can turn around now.” He was fully dressed in a pair of blue shorts with white piping at the sides and a red T-shirt. I liked the towel better.

“Now start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

“You know he told me to come over today, and I was so excited,” I replied. “Do you know how much time I spent in the bathroom this morning shaving and prepping?” A lot.

“Then what happened when you got to his house.”

“He took me to his bedroom, and we had sex.” Really good sex. “And then he told me I have to find another Daddy.”

“Wait. What? He had sex with you, then broke up with you?”

I nodded. “Exactly what the asshole did.”

“What a fucking douche.”

My head continued to bob up and down. I knew he’d get it. Once we got over the whole embarrassing encounter of what he was doing lying in bed naked with a dildo and a porn video.

“Of the worst kind.”

“Did he say why?”

I bit my bottom lip, feeling suddenly hurt. I didn’t want to relive the harsh words that had come out of the mouth of the man who I thought was the one. The man who’d walked into my workplace one night and swept me off my feet with promises, only to drop me like hot pancakes a day after.

“What did he say, Opie?” Maddy pressed.

“He said the sex was good, but out of bed, I am cold and hard to love.” I sat gingerly at the edge of Maddy’s bed and tried like hell to keep the tears at bay. “Why do they always say that? What about me makes me cold?”

When deafening silence fell, I glanced up at Maddy. Did he also think I was cold and unlovable?

“You agree with them?” That was what bugged me. Robert wasn’t the only one who’d called me cold.

“Of course, I don’t agree with them.”

I jumped to my feet. “You do!”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” I clenched my hands into fists at my side, my body shaking. “If I’m doing something wrong, why won’t you tell me?”

Maddy’s sigh drove fear inside me. Whatever he had to say, I wouldn’t like it.

“It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong per se,” he said. “It’s just that…”

“What?”

“You’re more attached to things than people.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand. “No, no, just hear me out. I understand why you’re this way. You never had much growing up, and the right man won’t just give up on you for it, but maybe try to be with someone for other reasons than that he’s loaded.”

“All right, I admit I like nice things, but that’s not the only reason I choose my men.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!”

“Why did you choose Robert, then?”

Easy-peasy. “He’s older, financially independent, and has no baggage.”

“In other words, he’s wealthy and has very few responsibilities, so he can afford to spend his money on you.”

Okay, maybe Robert hadn’t been a good example.

“What about Marvin?” I snapped my fingers at him.

“What about him? You could barely stand the guy. You were with him simply because he spent a lot of money on you at the club.”

Mentally, I slogged through the various men I’d had in my life. It didn’t help that I couldn’t pick out a single name to prove Maddy wrong. Not even one.

“I don’t think it’s wrong to want to be financially secure,” I said defensively.

“No, it’s not, but usually, you should want more from a relationship.”

“Like what? We’re compatible. I put out as often as they want. They buy me pretty things.”

“But don’t you want love?”

I snorted. “I’ve never had that. You can’t miss something you’ve never had, right?”

I hated the look of pity on his face.

“Maybe the next guy you allow into your life can show you what you’re missing. If you’re willing to open your heart and give him a chance.”

“I open my mouth and other parts of my body. Why can’t that be enough?”

He shrugged. “If you want a shallow existence, then go for it. Pick the next rich man who takes one look at you and wants to own you. But how long will it last again?”

I didn’t like this advice at all. I came here for us to sit and insult the bastard. Instead, we were picking apart my flaws. I hated being the one under the microscope.

“Now what?” I asked. “Do I go back to that dating app Cuffd to find a new guy?”

“Maybe give it some time first?”

“No, no. That would never do. You know I’m not good alone.”

“And maybe that’s a part of the problem,” he muttered loud enough for me to hear.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was the newest model, and the case was covered in flashy rhinestones. If Robert could so easily replace me, I could do the same to him.

“Why don’t you go do this in your room and give me some privacy?” Maddy asked.

I simply waved a hand at him and opened the app. The logo appeared on my screen as it loaded. “Just pretend I’m not here. It doesn’t bother me if you jerk off in the same room.”

“But it’ll bother me.” His words came out through gritted teeth. Without another word to me, he marched to his connecting bathroom.

I hadn’t used Cuffd in a while, but I’d met a few men there for hookups. The dating app was specifically designed for LGBTQ+ individuals and catered to a range of kinks and fetishes.

The first thing I did was to check that my profile was up to date. My profile pic was so last year, but I couldn’t decide on a new picture.

Unable to make up my mind, I hopped off the bed and headed for Maddy’s bathroom.

“Maddy, I need help.”

“Don’t you dare come in!” he cried.

I glanced up from the phone to the closed bathroom door. “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re jerking off again. You sure you don’t want me to help?”

The door yanked open, and he poked his head out, glaring at me.

“We’re both bottoms, Opie. You can’t help me.”

“I can work a mean dildo in your ass. You won’t even know the difference.”

He raised his eyes and mouthed something that seemed suspiciously like a plea for help from the universe.

“What’s it this time?”

“I just need help finding a profile pic for Cuffd.”

“The one you had was fine.”

“No, I don’t look as good as I do now.”

“Well, show me which ones you want to use, and I’ll pick.”

I beamed a smile at him and quickly scanned through my phone. “This. This. Or maybe this?”

“Too slutty. I’m not even sure they’d allow you to post that. And how the hell did you get your body to bend like that in this last one?”

“Want to see me do it?”

He shook his head frantically. “No, please spare me. Anything else you like?”

I scrolled through the photos again and gasped, then skipped back two paces.

“This one?” Maddy’s frown was a surefire sign he didn’t like it. “Oh, please, Maddy, please say I can.”

A look of alarm crossed Maddy’s face. “Shit, you need to find a Daddy ASAP. I’ll be damned if you make me some kind of surrogate Daddy, Opie. Use the damn pic if you want. Now good-bye.”

He disappeared back inside the bathroom and closed the door.

“And yeah, you definitely look hot in that last pic,” he called out.

I grinned. Poor Maddy must be tired of living with me sometimes. I entered my bedroom, dropped my phone on the pretty slate gray Bella Notte linens, and stripped out of my clothes. I folded them neatly and lay them on the chair next to my bed.

When I was naked, I pushed the russet-colored curtains apart, and light spilled abundantly into my room. It gave me the feeling of being outside naked, the warm sun bathing my skin in a healthy glow.

Content after that debacle with Robert earlier, I took off my rings and carefully placed them in my jewelry chest. Sprawled on my bed, I grabbed my phone and returned to adding the finishing touches to my profile. I double-checked the kinky list and clicked two more ticks beside what I liked.

I was about to exit the app when a bobbing Santa head caught my attention. I didn’t remember this being here. Hmm, must be something new. And since I absolutely adored Christmas—the season of giving, which meant me getting—I tapped the head.

An automatic message filled the screen.

Wishing for a Dominant of your own this Christmas?

Fucking yes.

Send a letter to Santa with a wishlist describing your perfect Dominant, and we’ll share it with our Santa Doms and Dommes here at Cuffd. If one of them fits your list, they’ll message you back with a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

It’s up to you how you want to answer.

Pleasantly surprised by the message, I reread it just to ensure I understood perfectly. This sounded like fun. Oh, what to ask for in a Daddy. Handsome, rich—

I frowned, Maddy’s words coming back to me. Hmm, was he right? Should I go for something else rather than the usual?




Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me by Chara Croft
1
Andy
“Shoot,” I said, tripping over Ellen, the one-eared stray cat who’d come with the house, when my phone pinged with an incoming text just as I walked in the door from a first date that definitely wasn’t going to lead to a second.

I stepped around Ellen when she refused to move and hung my coat in the coat closet. If there was someone out there I was going to click with, it definitely wasn’t the cute guy from my Economics class. I couldn’t actually say what it was that hadn’t worked between us, but I hadn’t been all that upset when he’d ended the night by telling me I was “a little too intense” for him.

He was probably right, but I didn’t really know how to be anything else.

During previous dating fails, I’d also heard “overbearing” and “too focused” and been accused of being twenty-one going on forty-one… none of which turned out to be what most guys my age were looking for, but all of which were probably fair, since I’d spent my too-serious, slightly geeky high school years practically raising my two younger sisters instead of having anything like a social life.

Not only did I have no game, but I was also used to stepping in and taking charge, and sometimes—okay, most of the time—I had a little trouble turning those instincts off… which didn’t always go over well, based on how tonight’s date had reacted when I’d ordered dinner for him.

I sighed, then lined my shoes up on the shoe rack and slipped my phone out of my pocket to check the message that had come in. It was my youngest sister, Lizzie, sixteen now and far too invested in my non-existent love life, in my opinion.

Lizzard: How did the date go???

I grinned at the excessive use of punctuation, then sent back a thumbs down.

My phone immediately rang.

“Seriously?” Lizzie said the minute I answered. “What was wrong with him?”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure it was me, Lizzard.”

“No way,” she said, insanely loyal, as always. “If Mom could find someone, you can, too.”

“No rush,” I said, tossing my keys into the little bowl I kept by the door for that purpose. “I don’t want ‘someone,’ I want the right one.”

“Wellllllllll,” she said, drawing the word out and sounding a little too gleeful for comfort. “Maybe I can help with that.”

I snorted, shaking my head even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t think so.”

I may not have had the most successful dating history, but I was pretty sure that following advice from a teenager wasn’t the answer.

Both Lizzie and Kate, our other sister, had gotten it in their heads that they owed it to me to help me have some fun since I’d missed out on so much when I’d been their age, but they were wrong. That wasn’t a debt, it was just family.

Our dad walked out on us just as I’d been starting middle school, and since Mom had gone from a pampered trophy wife to taking on three minimum-wage jobs just to keep food on the table, I’d been the one who had to step in and take care of my sisters, the house, and basically everything else.

When Mom had finally remarried a couple of years ago—to William, a man who’d restored my faith in the institution of fatherhood when he’d stepped up and then some to take care of her and the girls—Lizzie and Kate had both become obsessed with the idea that I’d finally have a chance for the “real college experience”... which, according to them, meant going to parties, loosening up, and getting laid.

The last activity was one I categorically refused to discuss with my sisters, and the first two… well, it just wasn’t me. Not that I couldn’t see how some people might want to go a little crazy with that kind of thing after being freed from all the responsibilities I’d been stuck with at such at a young age, but I was the opposite. For one thing, I had academic standards to keep up if I was going to keep all my scholarships, and no way was I willing to lose those since I was and always would be more interested in building the kind of stable life that we’d lost when my dad had left us—building it on a firm enough foundation that no one could ever rip it away from me again—than I was in partying on campus or going out to clubs to look for casual sex. And for another, I guess I was secretly a bit of a sap. I wanted to find my forever-guy… which was another thing that didn’t seem very compatible with what everyone else was looking for during their college years.

“...I’m sending you the pic right now,” Lizzie said.

I’d missed something.

“What?” I asked just as the phone vibrated against my ear with an incoming text.

“I know it’s him, right?” Lizzie said, sounding excited. “Even if he calls himself ‘Jay’ in the videos?”

“What?” I said again, totally confused now.

“Andy, just look,” Lizzie said, making me laugh because I could actually hear the eye roll in her voice.

When she'd been younger, I would have been on her not to sass me like that, but once William had stepped into my family’s lives and I’d left for college—scoring a small, lease-to-own house with William’s support, since it didn’t make any sense to me to waste money on dorm fees when I could put my housing costs toward an investment for my future—I’d finally been able to get back to something more like a regular brother-sister relationship with the girls instead of having to be their disciplinarian, father-figure, and everything else.

It was nice.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and put the call on speaker, then re-opened my text thread with her to look at whatever it was she was on me about.

“What did you send…” I started to ask, right before all the spit dried up in my mouth.

“Is it?” Lizzie asked excitedly. “Isn’t that him?’

If she meant, had she just sent me a picture of my high school crush, Jordan Wendt, the boy who’d almost made my dick fall off from overuse back when I was fifteen, then the answer was yes… and for the record, my dick was not holding any grudges about how sore Jordan had made it back then.

Not that Jordan had participated in that problem, of course. He hadn’t had a clue about how often I’d jerked off fantasizing about him back then. He’d been a senior when I was a freshman, the co-captain of our school’s cheer squad, and completely oblivious to my existence. Still, there was no denying that all the chafing I’d suffered had definitely been his fault.

Also his fault? Making that the year I’d come to terms with the fact that yes, I was definitely a six on the Kinsey scale.

Jerking off to fantasies of a hot cheerleader—a male one with a pretty face, an amazing ass, and muscles for days—had been my one guilty pleasure amidst all the responsibilities I'd had at home, and, as my perpetually-chafed-at-the-time dick could attest to, I’d indulged frequently.

Lizzie said something that sounded like nothing more than buzzing background noise, because… just… wow. Jordan starred in every single one of my most secret fantasies, and while yes, he still looked like pure sex on a stick, my heart tripped a little at the sight of him because my fantasies hadn’t just included jerking off to him. I’d also always imagined that we… clicked. That he was The One. That we had a connection.

Or that we would have, at least, if I’d ever had the nerve to talk to him.

Or been even remotely in his league.

Or had a single, solitary clue about what I could actually offer someone as beautiful as him.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly pounding so loudly that it completely drowned out my sister’s voice. The picture she’d sent looked like a screen capture, and Jordan was caught mid-hip-thrust in what looked like some kind of dance routine, full lips smirking and dark hair tousled and sweaty even though his face was, as always, perfectly made up and… and just… damn.

It hadn’t all been romantic fantasies back in the day. There had definitely been some dirty ones, too. A lot of dirty ones. Dirty ones that my cock still remembered vividly, as evidenced by the way it immediately started to press against the zipper of my pants, eager to come out and play... which, for the record, wasn’t exactly a comfortable feeling with my little sister still chattering away in my ear.

“What, uh, where did you, um, what’s this picture… from?” I finally managed to ask, stumbling over my words like I was right back to being that bumbling fifteen-year-old again as I tried and failed to tear my eyes away from Jordan’s smirk.

“It is him, isn’t it?” Lizzie asked gleefully. “I knew it! The guy you used to pant after back in high school? Jordan Whatsisname?”

“Wendt,” I said. “Jordan Wendt. And I didn’t pant after him.”

Oh God, had she actually realized that at the time? She’d been what, ten? And I thought I’d been so discreet.

“Oh please,” she said, no doubt rolling her eyes again. “You used to drag me and Kate to all those basketball games, and you don’t even like sports.”

“We were on a budget,” I said, staring so hard at Jordan’s ridiculous hotness that my eyes started to dry out. “It was free entertainment.”

I blinked and finally looked away for my own sanity. Then looked right back, because he was… Jesus. He was even more beautiful now then he’d been back then.

Then I frowned.

“Lizzard,” I said urgently. “Where did you get this picture?”

“I took a screenie from his YouTube channel,” she said, which really didn’t clear anything up at all, but at least sounded like she hadn’t done something unethical, like track him down on social media and steal private photos without his consent. “Kate found it,” she went on. “He does workout vids and stuff? Anyway, she was like, ‘omigod he’s so hot,’ and I was like, ‘omigod it’s Andy’s crush!’ And I’m right, right? It’s him?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s definitely Jordan. Um, Liz—”

Her laughter cut me off. “I know, I know, now you want me to get off the phone so you can go drool over him online, right? But Andy, I think it’s a sign! He moved to the same city as you! And he’s single, you’re single…”

I snorted, then almost tripped over Ellen as she wound around my feet, reminding me that it was my sacred duty in life to feed her and cater to her every whim. “Lizzie, that’s definitely not going to happen.”

“Why not?” she asked, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question instead of insanity. “Here,” she added before I could answer. “I’m sending you the link to his channel.”

My phone buzzed again, and like a drug addict needing a fix, I clicked as soon as it came through, my eyes widening and my cock swelling even more when my screen filled with thumbnails of my every living fantasy.

I hadn’t seen Jordan in years—and hadn’t jerked off while thinking of him in… well, at least a few weeks—but it would have been embarrassing how often I still thought about him if anyone had actually known about it. But even if my sisters had apparently seen through me back when I’d been a teenager, that was definitely something I’d never admit to.

“He films a lot of his workouts outdoors, and I recognize some of the settings from when we came out to visit you over the summer,” Lizzie said in my ear as I clicked on one of the videos. “He did one at that big fountain you took us to downtown, and another one at, what was it called? Bushbright Park? Bushhead? Bush—”

“Bushnell,” I cut in. “But—”

“But nothing,” she interrupted. “You should track him down and ask him out!”

I laughed, but then I swallowed hard as the video I’d clicked started playing. Jordan had definitely kept himself in shape. He looked even hotter than he’d been back when he’d fueled all my teenage fantasies. Honestly, as good as he’d looked then, that shouldn’t have been possible, but… yeahhhhhh. He’d managed it.

I reached down and adjusted myself.

“Lizzard, I really need to go,” I said, staring at that perfectly round, muscular ass of his, the one that had used to mesmerize me during all his cheer routines.

It was even rounder now.

You could bounce a quarter off it.

Build altars to it.

Compose hymns about it.

It was… it was… Jesus.

“It will be just like Mom and William,” Lizzie said excitedly, which finally got me to stop staring at Jordan’s ass.

I paused the video and brought the phone back up to my ear. “What are you talking about?” I asked, since I definitely hadn’t followed that non sequitur. “Is Mom okay?”

“She’s great, dork,” Lizzie said. “Going a little crazy getting ready for Christmas, of course—”

I’d definitely inherited that trait, and already had my entire house decorated even though I’d be driving home after finals to spend the holiday with my family.

“—but I’m just saying, she knew William for all those years before they got together—” He’d been a business associate of our dad’s. “—and then when she ran into him again it was love at first sight and she finally got her happily ever after! That could be just like you and Jordan!”

I grinned, rolling my own eyes since she couldn’t see me and call me on it, and finally gave in to Ellen’s annoyed meowing and headed into the kitchen to fill her bowl.

“That wasn’t love at first sight, Lizzard. That’s not even a real thing.”

She made a rude sound. “So you’re saying the first time you saw Jordan, you weren’t totally gone for him? Because you definitely weren’t as subtle as you seemed to think.”

“That was different.” I said.

That had been lust at first sight, and I was definitely a believer in that one.

Of course, back when I’d been fifteen, naive-and-hopeful me, the me who hadn’t been burned yet by the realities of trying to date guys who were always looking for someone a little more focused on fun and a little less excited by stability and structure than I was, might have called the lust I’d felt for Jordan by another name, but that hadn’t been real. It couldn’t have been, because I hadn’t actually known him. And sure, I’d convinced myself that I did at the time, but constantly watching him—okay, possibly stalking him—throughout my entire freshman year didn’t count.

Still, while I hadn’t actually known him, there was no doubt that I’d known a lot about him. Like the fact that he’d always tugged his left earlobe when he was nervous, even though he never let it show on his face; and the slightly superstitious way he’d always double-tapped the gym door right underneath our school mascot whenever he walked in with the cheer squad for a pep rally; and the way he avoided all dairy products.

Lactose intolerance?

Personal preference?

A weight management thing?

I’d never figured that part out, but what I had figured out was that even though he was always surrounded by people, he only seemed genuinely comfortable with his co-captain on the cheer-squad and best friend, Nichol Fetterline; he sucked at academics but somehow always skated by on charm; no one came to his graduation ceremony with him; and despite being popular and gorgeous and out and proud, sometimes I'd had the impression that he was just the tiniest bit insecure, too.

Unless, of course, I’d just been fooling myself. Convinced that there was a vulnerability under that picture-perfect surface that only I could see... and that, of course, only I would be the perfect answer for. The one he could open up to. The one he could count on. The one he was meant for…

I snorted, shaking my head at my ridiculous fantasies.

“What?” Lizzie asked. “Was that a ‘yes’ I heard?”

“It was a nothing, Lizzard,” I lied. “Trust me, you need to give this one up.”

Although if I was honest, everything I’d once convinced my starry-eyed teenage self I’d felt for Jordan was exactly what I kept looking for and not finding when I asked guys out now... and that really was ridiculous, given that it had only ever existed in my own head in the first place.

Still, as soon as I finished feeding Ellen and finally got Lizzie off the phone, I couldn’t resist restarting the video I’d paused. I hadn’t seen Jordan since he’d graduated, and watching him hop around and shake his ass on the small screen made me feel like I’d been stuck in the desert for all those years, but now had finally found water.

Cold, clear, sparkling, mouthwatering water.

I palmed myself, no more able to control my cock’s reaction to him then I would have been able to stop myself from grabbing that metaphorical water and guzzling it until I choked on it.

On screen, Jordan was just finishing the workout he’d been doing, and I couldn’t look away as he mopped his face and smirked at the camera, rattling off a bunch of well-rehearsed-sounding patter asking me to click, like, comment, and subscribe to something.

God, he was beautiful, and the way those bottomless dark eyes held mine as he signed off… maybe it was a sign.

“Oh God, I really am a dork,” I told Ellen.

She ignored me, face buried in her food dish and tail flicking in irritation at the interruption. But still, how could I ever say no when Jordan asked me for something?

And fine, he hadn't really asked “me,” and I certainly didn’t expect anything more to come of having him in my life, so to speak, this time around than it had back when we’d been in high school. He was still a little too beautiful to seem real and totally out of reach, even if we had both ended up living in the same city, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to… what was it he’d asked me to do? Click, like, and subscribe?

After all, one of my most frequently recurring fantasies, one that popped up even more often than visions of that gravity-defying ass of his, had always been that Jordan would ask me for something, and I’d give it to him. That he’d realize I was exactly what he needed, that I could take care of him better than anyone else ever could, and then—before he even knew what had hit him—I’d have swept him right off his feet and straight into our own picture-perfect happily ever after.

And okay, maybe subscribing to his video channel in response to a totally generic and universal “ask” wasn’t exactly the same thing—and following people on the internet definitely wasn’t my usual style—but for Jordan? I mean, come on. With the chance to fulfill even a tiny fraction of one of my lifelong Jordan-Wendt fantasies at hand, how could I possibly resist?




Dear Daddy, Please Hold Us by Colette Davison
1 
Zeke 
Zeke—He’s gone to the bathroom. Is that a good or bad sign? 

Rett—How would I know? You date more than me. How’s it going? 

I didn’t have time to reply to Rett’s text, as my date came back to the table. I made sure my cell phone was still on silent and slipped it back into my pocket. I’d ‘met’ James via Cuffd, a hook-up app specifically for people looking for kinky dates. I had used the app a few times since I’d arrived in the States with Rett, my best friend. We were on the last leg of our round-the-world trip. Most of my hook-ups had been fun. After working in diners for a crap wage and small tips, I needed a way to let off steam and relax. 

I definitely had a type, which James seemed to fit. He was a good twenty years older than me, greying at the temples, but he looked fit enough to keep up with a younger man. I hoped that when we got back to his place, he’d prove to have a firm hand and be willing to do all manner of kinky things to me. We couldn’t go back to the apartment Rett and I were renting. Sure, my best friend would have made himself scarce or hid out in his room with his headphones on, but it wouldn’t have been fair to him. 

We’d only just ordered when James had gone to the toilet, so we hadn’t really got a chance to talk much, just generic chit-chat as we’d perused the menus. We were in a burger joint in the East Village, which James had suggested when we’d arranged to meet. What I hadn’t realised was that it only sold vegetarian and vegan food. I’d never had a veggie burger before, so I was intrigued. I hoped I’d get to make up for the lack of meat at dinner by having James’s cock in my mouth later.

“What do you do?” I asked once he’d taken his seat again. 

“I’m a magazine editor,” James replied. 

He poured himself a glass of water and then put the complimentary bottle back on the table. I had expected him to at least ask if I’d wanted some too. I leant towards Daddy Doms because, while I liked a good spanking and a Dom who called the shots. I also enjoyed being taken care of. Aftercare cuddles were the best. Not being offered water was a small thing, but it bothered me. I tried to ignore it as I picked up the bottle and poured my own water. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t a caring guy; we could still have fun. It wasn’t like I was looking for someone to settle down with. After Christmas, Rett and I would be heading north to Boston for a few days before going up to Portland. We still had plenty to see before Rett’s travel visa ran out at the end of January. 

“A magazine editor? That sounds fun. Which one?” 

“Poke.” 

I raised my eyebrows. “Raunchy.” I’d jacked off staring at the hot male models in Poke plenty of times over the last few months. “Do you get to choose the photos that go in?” 

James smiled. “I have the final say, yes.” He looked me up and down as though he was considering me for a photo shoot. 

If I was, I’d be flattered, but what I really wanted was to be on the other side of the camera. It was a silly fantasy, but I wanted to be a fashion photographer someday. 

He took a sip of his water. “We should probably talk about what we both want out of tonight.” 

“I thought we were getting to know each other first?” 

He picked up a napkin and started messing with it, folding and unfolding it. “This is a one-off, right?” 

I nodded. “I guess so.” 

I’d sort of hoped I could find a Dom who’d want to meet up a few times before I left New York, but whatever.

“Then all that really matters is what we want to do in the bedroom.” 

I guessed that was fair enough, but the guys I hooked up with normally asked me a few cursory questions. 

James smiled as a waitress brought our burgers to the table. James had also ordered some tofu-cabbage wraps. “If we’re going to have sex, you probably don’t want to eat too much.” 

I stared at him. 

“I like my subs to be clean.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ve douched,” I whispered. 

“Even so.” 

I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry, even though the burger smelt better than I’d expected. My stomach grumbled, but I tried to ignore it. What I didn’t get was why he’d suggested we go to a restaurant if he was going to make me feel bad about eating. Was it a control thing? 

“I like spanking my subs,” he told me before picking up his burger and taking a huge bite out of it. “While they’re tied up,” he added around the mouthful of food. “Do you wear gags?” 

“Sometimes. Not normally on a first date.” I needed to be able to trust a Dom before I let them take away my ability to speak. 

“You will for me.” 

I narrowed my eyes and then tried to force a smile to my lips. 

“Do you enjoy breath play?” James asked. 

“Not on a first date,” I said firmly. The gag was negotiable; breath play was not. How hot it was definitely depended on whose hand was around my throat. If I didn’t know them or didn’t trust them, it was terrifying rather than sexy, so my rule now was to only engage in breath play with a Dom I was familiar with. 

James lifted his chin. “I love it.” 

Good for him. The hungry grumbling of my stomach had been replaced by alarm bells ringing in there. James might have looked hot as hell, but everything about him felt wrong.

“I’m not sure I want to play with a sub who doesn’t.” 

My eyes went wide. Was he trying to guilt me into doing things I wasn’t comfortable with? Oh, hell no. 

“I don’t think this is going to work out,” I said, standing. 

“Sit.” 

I did because he barked it out as an order, and hell, I was a submissive. Following orders was the one thing I was good at; most of the time. 

“You contacted me,” he pointed out. “And now you want to dump me?” 

The guy had problems. 

“I’m not going to let you stop me breathing,” I said in a harsh whisper. “So if that’s a deal-breaker for you, then we may as well break this party up right now.” 

He stared at me, his dark eyes cold and unreadable, and I knew it was time for me to use my backbone and walk away. 

“I’m going,” I said in a firm tone. “Enjoy your burger.” 

“Sit.” 

I didn’t. I walked out the door, even though I was trembling. I yanked my cell phone out of my pocket and speed-dialled Rett. 

“It was horrible,” I said as soon as he answered. 

“What happened?” Rett’s English accent was so comforting, like a snuggly blanket. 

I looked over my shoulder. James wasn’t following me. He was probably eating his burger. I hoped he choked on it. 

“He guilted me into not eating and then tried to convince me to let him choke me on a first date.” I burst into tears halfway through my reply, probably garbling my words. 

“He did what? Where are you? I’ll come get you.” 

“You don’t need to.” 

“You’re upset. Is there somewhere safe nearby?” 

The East Village was full of restaurants, bars, and music venues, so I didn’t have to walk far to find somewhere with plenty of people where I could wait for Rett. 

“Yes, but you really don’t have to come get me. I’m capable of taking the subway home, you know.” 

My mouth might have been saying one thing, but my body was in agreement with Rett. I ducked into a busy bar, reading the name on the sign to Rett as I went in. I ordered myself a gin and tonic and found a table to sit at. 

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t go anywhere.” 

“I won’t.” I was shaking too much to actually want to navigate my way home. Thank God for Rett. 

He arrived about half an hour later, by which time I’d had two drinks. 

“You were fast.” 

“I got a cab.” He slid into the seat opposite me, dark blue eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?” 

“Just a bit shaky. The guy was a total jerk.” 

“He sounds like one.” 

I forced a smile. “You know me. I’m open to pretty much anything.” 

“Once you trust someone.” 

I nodded. “Exactly. I’m not going to let a stranger strangle me.” 

“I’m glad. Do you want to go home?” 

“Please.” 

As we walked out the door, I threaded my fingers through Rett’s for comfort. He squeezed my hand and held it all the way to the subway. On the train, I sat with my head resting on his shoulder. I’d stopped shaking, but the short time I’d spent with James had still left a bad taste in my mouth. 

“He wasn’t a good Dom,” I declared once we were back in our flat. 

“Doesn’t sound like it.” 

“And no one else I’ve met via Cuffd has been that awful.” 

“That’s true.” 

“So it’s not going to put me off using the app.” 

Rett laughed. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Myself.” 

“Thought so.” He gave me a hug. “I’m sorry you ended up with a jerk tonight. The next guy will be better.” 

“I hope so.” I caught hold of Rett’s hips as he tried to step away, pulling him close again. “Thanks for coming to get me.” 

“You know I’m always there for you.” 

He was, and I loved him for it. The trouble was, we loved each other too much. 

We stared into each other’s eyes, slowly leaning into each other until our lips met in a slow kiss. 

“Take me to bed?” I asked. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“My cock begs to differ.” Kissing Rett had made me hard. I tugged him closer so our groins were touching. “So does yours.” 

“Zeke…” 

Whatever objection Rett was going to voice got smothered by the kiss he initiated. Our hands were all over each other as I walked him towards my bedroom. We both knew things would turn out badly because we’d engaged in this particular dance a lot. I loved him, and I knew he loved me, so each time we ended up in a bedroom together, I hoped things would turn out differently. I was sure he felt the same, which was why he’d kissed me rather than finishing his sentence. 

We fell onto the bed and started pulling each other’s clothes off. We were naked in seconds, and oh, God, he was gorgeous. 

My beautiful English boy was slightly shorter than me and a fair bit slimmer. He had a real baby face, so had recently taken to sporting a three-day-old stubble look. We both had dark brown hair, but his had blond highlights at the front, whereas mine tended more towards auburn. More than once on our trip we’d been mistaken for brothers, but I’d never seen the likeness. We weren’t brothers, just a pair of army brats who had grown up on bases together. 

Cuddled up close, we grasped each other’s cocks and started to beat each other off. I should have been content with that, but I never was. I waited until we were both panting and close to release before whispering hotly into his ear. 

“Fuck me, Rett, please.” 

He tensed right up, and his hand stilled on my cock. I thought he was going to refuse, and maybe it would have been better if he had. He nodded and rolled over so he could retrieve a condom and lube. I got up onto all fours, presenting my ass to him. I wanted him to do more than fuck me. I’d been looking forward to being spanked by a Dom that night, and the desire was still there inside me, like a seed that desperately needed watering. I kept it inside while he fingered my asshole, enjoying the way he played with me to warm me up. I stroked my cock while he did, hoping he was stroking his own to keep it hard. 

“That’s so good, Rett. Fuck me?” 

There was a pause, and I knew he was gloving up. Then his hands stroked over my ass, and I couldn’t keep my desires in any longer. 

“Spank me, Rett. Spank me until my ass is red and hot.” 

His hand stilled. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be spanked. Just fuck me.” 

“Yes, you do.” His whispered words were shaky and cracked. 

His hand lifted off my ass, and for a moment, I thought he was actually going to strike me, but he didn’t. 

“I just can’t, Zeke. I’m sorry.” 

I twisted around so I could hug him. “I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“You deserve someone who can give you what you need.” Rett sighed. “I’m sorry. Is it weird that I like being spanked too but can’t deal it out?” 

I shook my head. “I’m the same. We’re just a pair of hopeless subs.” 

Rett choked out a laugh. “We are, aren’t we?” 

He took the condom off, and we cuddled on the bed. I didn’t know about him, but I was developing a serious case of blue balls. I needed a release. While I still wanted to get that release from a spanking and a good fucking, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Rett didn’t enjoy topping—neither of us did—but that didn’t stop him from trying whenever I asked him. It was hard to get off when you knew the guy fucking you was into you but not into what you were doing together. You’d have thought I’d have learnt not to ask, but I just kept thinking that if we tried hard enough, often enough, we’d find a way to meet each other’s needs. More and more I realised that it wasn’t enough to love each other. 

I started to stroke his cock again, and he followed my lead. We both needed a little coaxing to get fully back into the mood, but once we did, we both tipped over the edge rapidly. We coated each other’s hands in our cum, but instead of going right back to cuddling, we got up and cleaned ourselves off. That was the trouble. Once things had gone wrong in the bedroom department, all we could really do was finish each other off in a businesslike fashion. I hated it and needed it at the same time. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Rett said as we flopped down onto the tatty oversized couch. 

“Sounds dangerous.” 

He let out a heavy sigh, which made me realise I needed to shut up and listen rather than try to lighten the air. 

“This isn’t working, Zeke.” 

I blinked at him, sitting upright, my back straight as a pole. 

“I hate it when you go out with other guys, but we can’t make it work either.” 

We’d discussed having an open relationship so we could get our physical needs met elsewhere while still coming home to each other. But he was right. It wasn’t working. I was jealous as anything every time he had a date or hooked up with someone at a club. Even when it was me doing the dating—which was the more regular occurrence—I felt a touch of guilt, like I was cheating on him, even though I had his permission.

“I’m going to go home,” Rett went on. “After the New Year.” 

“You’re… What?” 

We’d had more plans. There was still more of the East Coast to see. My dad had been sent back to a base in the US, so I didn’t have a home to go to in the UK. A silly part of me had hoped Rett and I would have figured things out by the time our trip ended, and we’d make a home somewhere together. It seemed like that dream was about to go up in smoke. 

“I’ve booked my plane ticket.” He turned to me, his eyes wide and earnest. “I just can’t keep doing this, Zeke. I can’t keep pretending we can make things between us work. I love you, but being together is breaking both our hearts.” 

He wasn’t wrong, and sooner or later, I’d have come to the same conclusion. I was almost grateful to him for being the one to call it quits because it meant I didn’t have to make him cry. 

He leant across to me and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll always love you, Zeke, but we’re not meant to be together.” 

There was nothing I could say to that because he was right. We were both subs. Neither of us was even close to being versatile. Neither of us would have been happy without sex and kinky play. Sex wasn’t the be-all and end-all of a relationship, but it was a significant part. 

Rett kissed me on the cheek. “Good night.” 

“Night.” 

Maybe I should have put up more of a fight, but we’d been putting off the inevitable for months. So I let him go. Okay, it was only into his bedroom, but he might as well have been packing his bags and leaving for the airport that night. 

When his door had clicked shut, I grabbed a cushion and buried my face into it so I could cry without him hearing. New Years was a little over a week away, and then Rett really would be flying away, and I’d have no reason to follow him. I couldn’t wave a magic wand and make us compatible, no matter how much I loved him. Having an open relationship so we never needed to end up in the bedroom hadn’t worked not only because of mutual jealousy but also because we always ended up there anyway. We were drawn to each other but couldn’t please each other. It was the universe’s cruel idea of a joke—hey, here’s Mr Right, except he’s also Mr Wrong. 

I grabbed my laptop and sat back down on the sofa, opening up the Cuffd website. More than ever, I needed a Dom to help me let go and forget my heartache. A Santa head flashed at me in the top right corner. I’d noticed it the last few times I’d been on the website and used the app on my cell but hadn’t paid it much attention. This time I clicked on it, reading the message that it led me to. 

Wishing for a Dominant of your own this Christmas? 

Send a letter to Santa with a wish list describing your perfect Dominant, and we’ll share it with our Santa Doms and Dommes here at Cuffd. If one of them fits your list, they’ll message you back with a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year? 

It’s up to you how you want to answer… 

Well, that made a change from having to scroll through profiles until I found a guy I liked the look of. I sat there, wondering how I’d describe my perfect Dom. Right now, I wanted a Daddy to hold me more than anything. An older, bigger guy who would wrap me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay. But also a guy who would spank me as he fucked me. A man I could trust to respect my hard limits but push my soft ones. A Daddy who could help me unwind and let go. 

I smiled as I realised Rett wanted all those things in a Daddy too, which was why we could never work. Unless… 

I pinched my bottom lip between my teeth and clicked the link to write my letter to Santa. I typed furiously, describing our perfect Daddy, hoping beyond hope that he existed and that he was here in New York. I was probably expecting miracles, but stranger things had happened, and it was almost Christmas. Maybe I could wish for a little bit of magic.


Have you been naughty or nice?

Eight adorable boys are looking for their Daddies this holiday season. Each one gets to write a letter to Santa through a dating app, Cuffd, asking for what they want. Maybe their perfect Daddies will reply...

The Naughty or Nice Stories are stand-alone books that share a common holiday theme and can be read in any order.





Gianni Holmes
Gianni Holmes is a book nerd who pretends her obsession with Thor is completely healthy. She enjoys computer games, word games, and anything that will make her LOL. She loves bingeing on funny 'old but goodie' sitcoms such as I Love Lucy, The Golden Girls, and The Andy Griffith Show. She writes her characters with sass at the bottom, substance in the middle, and snark on top.

Sign up for her newsletter today and get instant access to several freebie short stories.



Chara Croft
Chara Croft writes other love stories under other pen names, but once upon a time someone suggested she write a particularly dirty and delicious kind of story featuring brothers who love each other a little too much, and thus a new pen name was born.




Colette Davison
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.


Gianni Holmes
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Chara Croft

Colette Davison
AUDIBLE  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS 



Dear Daddy, Please Love Me by Gianni Holmes

Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me by Chara Croft
Dear Daddy, Please Hold Us by Colette Davison

Series

Friday, December 31, 2021

6th Day of Christmas Author Spotlight: Michele Notaro & Sammi Cee



Michele Notaro

Michele is married to an awesome husband that puts up with her and all the characters in her head—and there are many. They live together in Baltimore, Maryland with their two young boys and two crazy dogs. She grew up dancing and swimming and taught dance—ballet, tap, jazz, hip hop, & modern—for ten years before her kids came along. Now she stays home to write about the sexy men in her head and does PTA everything—as long as coffee is involved. Two other tattooed moms run the PTA with her, and though she wants to rip her hair out from it, she still loves it.


Sammi Cee
Sammi Cee was raised in a family of readers. Summer vacations consisted of a good book while sitting lakeside from as far back as she could remember. After growing up and having her own children, her appreciation of how the written word could transport you on an adventure, bring you to tears, or give you hope, took on a whole new meaning.

These days Sammi is watching her children develop into fine young ladies while doing the things she enjoys most: drinking coffee, eating chocolate, and writing her own stories.



Michele Notaro
FACEBOOK  /  FB GROUP  /  WEBSITE
FB GROUP2 /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS 

Sammi Cee
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The Ghost in the Emerald Cabin
Summary:
RIPP: Researchers In Paranormal Phenomenon #0.5
Wanna check out early? Blame the ghost. Get your money back? Sure, ghost. Imagine your best friend naked? Yeah, ghost—no, wait a minute.

When my best friend, Tate, called a few years ago to ask me to help him run the Narrow Peaks Ski Resort, I jumped at the chance. Skiing is one of the things I’m most passionate about—that and pretending not to notice how hot Tate is. This is my dream job, but never in a million years did I think I’d be fielding demands from guests trying to check out early because they claim their cabin is haunted. I can’t deny how creepy some of their stories are, though.

Even while being spooked every time I turn around, I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of Tate. The guy that put me in the friend zone years ago. Kill me now.

When the two men end up sharing a cabin together, will they finally take a chance on each other? Or will the dangers inside break them for good?

The Ghost in the Emerald Cabin is a prequel in the RIPP (Researchers In Paranormal Phenomenon) series. It’s a 21K word standalone MM romance novella with creepy fun, two guys who are completely clueless, icky ski hats, a spooktastic cabin, snowballs, and don’t forget there might be a ghost!

Intended for audiences 18 years and older.



Coldburgh Train Station
Summary:
RIPP: Researchers In Paranormal Phenomenon #1
Do you hear bumps in the night? Get unexplained chills? Feel like someone’s watching you when you’re all alone? Don’t stay scared! Shoot RIPP a message for all your spooktacular needs!

Dane
I only go along with Rory and Thad’s crazy plan of checking out an abandoned train station because they seem so excited, and I honestly don’t care what we do for our film class project. Transferring colleges was supposed to be my escape from reality, anyway, so there’s no harm in doing a little ghost hunting, right? It’s not like we’ll find anything. I really just want to go through the motions, but these guys have a way of making me care—ugh. Even Rory’s older brother is able to get under my skin in ways I wish he couldn’t. I should stay away, but his sweet and caring nature keeps pulling me in—damn him.

Brooks
Helping Rory and Thad with RIPP is just something I do to spend time with them. Bless their little hearts, they really believe in ghosts and are determined to prove it to the world. When Dane gets assigned to their group for their class project, my worry they won’t need me anymore is overshadowed by my desire to spend as much time as possible getting to know the mysterious new man. I get my wish when we have an encounter that seems… unbelievable. As scary as it is, my life becomes less aimless when Dane and I team up to protect my brother and his best friend when they insist on returning to the train station again... and again.

What happens when two men experience something no one else sees? Can they stay alive long enough to fall in love or is seeing what lives at Coldburgh Train Station the beginning of the end?

Coldburgh Train Station is book one in the RIPP (Researchers In Paranormal Phenomenon) series. It’s a 90K word standalone MM romance with spooky fun, cute guys, apparitions, a hyper younger brother that won’t stay away from the coffee pot, a friend that cares way too much about his tan, spirits, a crazy mom, amazing friendships, love, and did we mention ghosts?

Intended for audiences 18 years and older.



Malachite
Summary:
Brotherhood of Ormarr #4
Malachite~
I have a wonderful life. I have no room to complain; between my brothers and their new mates, this is the most alive our home has felt since my parents died. Unfortunately, all of them being mated is making me miserable. When it was just the four of us, it was us against the world. Now they’re paired up and it’s only me and my dragon, Kesia. Until I happen to walk into the Overlord’s Lair and I see him: Quentin. Mine. Mate. As much as I want to win him over without telling him I’m a dragon rider and we’re mates—which I know he’d love—I’m not sure I can. The minute I’m around him I act like an idiot.

Quentin~
Every time the goofy guy walks into my store, he brightens my day, and I look forward to his daily visits. There’s just something about him that draws me to him, to the point he leaves me pining after him the moment he’s gone. But the thing is, I can tell he’s hiding something, and my wild imagination is coming up with the craziest explanations of the secrets he’s keeping. Maybe he’s a vampire that’s come to whisk me away—ridiculous, right? But a guy can dream. And I’ve definitely been dreaming of that big, muscular man wrapping me in his arms at night.

Malachite is the final book in The Brotherhood of Ormarr series. While each book focuses on a different couple, the overall story arc concludes in this installment. For maximum enjoyment, we suggest reading in order. Malachite is a m/m romance, and is recommended for adults 18 years and older.



Heart Strain
Summary:
Interlocking Fragments #1
Holden~
When I get a call that my twin brother’s been shot, I’m in shock as I head back to Baltimore to be with him. Seeing him in a coma is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do; sitting here not knowing whether he’s going to live or die is the worst thing I can imagine. But at least Jameson is with me—he makes it more bearable, and I don’t feel like I’m in this alone. With everything going on, I probably shouldn’t be checking out my brother’s work partner, but I can’t seem to help it. Jameson’s been so sweet and kind and considerate; not to mention he’s so sexy I can’t keep my eyes off him.

Jameson~
My partner getting shot and ending up in a coma brings everything in my world to a screeching halt. He’s not only my partner on the police force, but my best friend and confidant. When I see his twin brother, Holden, sitting in the waiting room, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude that he neither blames me nor pushes me away. Now I’m doing my best to take care of him and support him; if only I’d stop noticing how his emotions reflect in his eyes and wondering how it would feel to touch him. 

Will the bonding that takes place during their long bedside vigils become more than they expected? Can they be honest enough with themselves and each other to take it to the next level? And if they do, will Holden be willing to sacrifice the life he loves for the brother he’s kept at arm’s length for almost ten years and the man who could end up being his everything? 

Heart Strain is the first book in the Interlocking Fragments series, but is a standalone novel. Each book in the series will feature a different couple, but the couples will show up throughout the whole series. This is a contemporary romance intended for 18+.



Digging Deeper
Summary:
Interlocking Fragments #2
Hendrix~
One minute, I’m on patrol with my partner. The next, I’m waking up after being in a coma for weeks and my whole world has changed. On the bright side, my twin brother tells me he’s moving home after being gone for almost ten years, and I couldn’t be happier. Plus, I woke up. That’s definitely a positive. On the other hand, they don’t know if I’ll ever walk again, my brother’s dating my best friend, and I’m starting to obsess about my brother’s best friend … yeah, like that’s not a disaster waiting to happen. How’s my brother going to feel if I admit I’m bisexual after all these years? After watching him struggle alone?

And am I really thinking about Gavin, the man I’ve resented for keeping my brother away all these years? But I can’t take my eyes off of him, especially when his brown eyes seem so sad and haunted.

Gavin~
Following my best friend to Baltimore was an easy decision since he’s the only family I have, and finding a physical therapist job was a bonus. But now I’m afraid of being a burden to him and his new boyfriend, so I’ve been keeping to myself. The loneliness is seeping back in, and the person that’s been helping is the last one I’d expect. Hendrix has always hated me, but the more I help him recover, the more of him shines through, and I begin seeing him in a different light. He’s always been my best friend’s grumpy, twin brother, but now he’s the straight guy I can’t stop thinking about, the one I can’t stop checking out, and the one I can’t have. Not that I even want anyone after everything—my baggage is too heavy for even me to deal with, let alone someone else… but that doesn’t stop me from daydreaming about him.

With Hendrix harboring family secrets, and Gavin’s painful past still bleeding like an open wound, can these two men find a way to help each other dig deeper? Or will they hide from their truths and forsake the potential staring them right in the face?

Digging Deeper is the second book in the Interlocking Fragments series, but is a standalone novel. Each book in the series will feature a different couple, but the couples will show up throughout the whole series. This is a contemporary romance intended for 18+.



The Ghost in the Emerald Cabin

Coldburgh Train Station

Malachite

Heart Strain

Digging Deeper

πŸ“˜πŸŽ₯Friday's Film AdaptationπŸŽ₯πŸ“˜: Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding



Summary:
Meet Bridget Jones—a 30-something Singleton who is certain she would have all the answers if she could:
a. lose 7 pounds
b. stop smoking
c. develop Inner Poise


"123 lbs. (how is it possible to put on 4 pounds in the middle of the night? Could flesh have somehow solidified becoming denser and heavier? Repulsive, horrifying notion), alcohol units 4 (excellent), cigarettes 21 (poor but will give up totally tomorrow), number of correct lottery numbers 2 (better, but nevertheless useless)..."

Bridget Jones' Diary is the devastatingly self-aware, laugh-out-loud daily chronicle of Bridget's permanent, doomed quest for self-improvement — a year in which she resolves to: reduce the circumference of each thigh by 1.5 inches, visit the gym three times a week not just to buy a sandwich, form a functional relationship with a responsible adult, and learn to program the VCR.

Over the course of the year, Bridget loses a total of 72 pounds but gains a total of 74. She remains, however, optimistic. Through it all, Bridget will have you helpless with laughter, and — like millions of readers the world round — you'll find yourself shouting, "Bridget Jones is me!"



January: An Exceptionally Bad Start

Sunday 1 January 
129 lbs. (but post-Christmas), alcohol units 14 (but effectively covers 2 days as 4 hours of party was on New Year's Day), cigarettes 22, calories 5424. 

Food consumed today:
2 pkts Emmenthal cheese slices
14 cold new potatoes
2 Bloody Marys (count as food as contain Worcester sauce and tomatoes)
1/3 Ciabatta loaf with Brie
coriander leaves--1/2 packet
12 Milk Tray (best to get rid of all Christmas confectionery in one go and make fresh start tomorrow) 
13 cocktail sticks securing cheese and pineapple
Portion Una Alconbury's turkey curry, peas and bananas
Portion Una Alconbury's Raspberry Surprise made with Bourbon biscuits, tinned raspberries, eight gallons of whipped cream, decorated with glacΓ© cherries and angelica. 

Noon. London: my flat. Ugh. The last thing on earth I feel physically, emotionally or mentally equipped to do is drive to Una and Geoffrey Alconbury's New Year's Day Turkey Curry Buffet in Grafton Underwood. Geoffrey and Una Alconbury are my parents' best friends and, as Uncle Geoffrey never tires of reminding me, have known me since I was running round the lawn with no clothes on. My mother rang up at 8:30 in the morning last August Bank Holiday and forced me to promise to go. She approached it via a cunningly circuitous route.

"Oh, hello, darling. I was just ringing to see what you wanted for Christmas."

"Christmas?"

"Would you like a surprise, darling?"

"No!" I bellowed. "Sorry. I mean ..."

"I wondered if you'd like a set of wheels for your suitcase."

"But I haven't got a suitcase."

"Why don't I get you a little suitcase with wheels attached. You know, like air hostesses have."

"I've already got a bag."

"Oh, darling, you can't go around with that tatty green canvas thing. You look like some sort of Mary Poppins person who's fallen on hard times. Just a little compact case with a pull-out handle. It's amazing how much you can get in. Do you want it in navy on red or red on navy?"

"Mum. It's eight-thirty in the morning. It's summer. It's very hot. I don't want an air-hostess bag."

"Julie Enderby's got one. She says she never uses anything else."

"Who's Julie Enderby?"

"You know Julie, darling! Mavis Enderby's daughter. Julie! The one that's got that super-dooper job at Arthur Andersen ..."

"Mum ..."

"Always takes it on her trips ..."

"I don't want a little bag with wheels on."

"I'll tell you what. Why don't Jamie, Daddy and I all club together and get you a proper new big suitcase and a set of wheels?"

Exhausted, I held the phone away from my ear, puzzling about where the missionary luggage-Christmas-gift zeal had stemmed from. When I put the phone back she was saying: "... in actual fact, you can get them with a compartment with bottles for your bubble bath and things. The other thing I thought of was a shopping cart."

"Is there anything you'd like for Christmas?" I said desperately, blinking in the dazzling Bank Holiday sunlight.

"No, no," she said airily. "I've got everything I need. Now, darling," she suddenly hissed, "you will be coming to Geoffrey and Una's New Year's Day Turkey Curry Buffet this year, won't you?"

"Ah. Actually, I ..." I panicked wildly. What could I pretend to be doing? "... think I might have to work on New Year's Day."

"That doesn't matter. You can drive up after work. Oh, did I mention? Malcolm and Elaine Darcy are coming and bringing Mark with them. Do you remember Mark, darling? He's one of those top-notch barristers. Masses of money. Divorced. It doesn't start till eight."

Oh God. Not another strangely dressed opera freak with bushy hair burgeoning from a side-part. "Mum, I've told you. I don't need to be fixed up with ..."

"Now come along, darling. Una and Geoffrey have been holding the New Year buffet since you were running round the lawn with no clothes on! Of course you're going to come. And you'll be able to use your new suitcase."

11:45 p.m. Ugh. First day of New Year has been day of horror. Cannot quite believe I am once again starting the year in a single bed in my parents' house. It is too humiliating at my age. I wonder if they'll smell it if I have a fag out of the window. Having skulked at home all day, hoping hangover would clear, I eventually gave up and set off for the Turkey Curry Buffet far too late. When I got to the Alconburys' and rang their entire-tune-of-town-hall-clock-style doorbell I was still in a strange world of my own--nauseous, vile-headed, acidic. I was also suffering from road-rage residue after inadvertently getting on to the M6 instead of the M1 and having to drive halfway to Birmingham before I could find anywhere to turn round. I was so furious I kept jamming my foot down to the floor on the accelerator pedal to give vent to my feelings, which is very dangerous. I watched resignedly as Una Alconbury's form--intriguingly deformed through the ripply glass door--bore down on me in a fuchsia two-piece.

"Bridget! We'd almost given you up for lost! Happy New Year! Just about to start without you."

She seemed to manage to kiss me, get my coat off, hang it over the banister, wipe her lipstick off my cheek and make me feel incredibly guilty all in one movement, while I leaned against the ornament shelf for support.

"Sorry. I got lost."

"Lost? Durr! What are we going to do with you? Come on in!"

She led me through the frosted-glass doors into the lounge, shouting, "She got lost, everyone!"

"Bridget! Happy New Year!" said Geoffrey Alconbury, clad in a yellow diamond-patterned sweater. He did a jokey Bob Hope step then gave me the sort of hug which Boots would send straight to the police station.

"Hahumph," he said, going red in the face and pulling his trousers up by the waistband. "Which junction did you come off at?"

"Junction nineteen, but there was a diversion ..."

"Junction nineteen! Una, she came off at Junction nineteen! You've added an hour to your journey before you even started. Come on, let's get you a drink. How's your love life, anyway?"

Oh God. Why can't married people understand that this is no longer a polite question to ask? We wouldn't rush up to them and roar, "How's your marriage going? Still having sex?" Everyone knows that dating in your thirties is not the happy-go-lucky free-for-all it was when you were twenty-two and that the honest answer is more likely to be, "Actually, last night my married lover appeared wearing suspenders and a darling little Angora crop-top, told me he was gay/a sex addict/a narcotic addict/a commitment phobic and beat me up with a dildo," than, "Super, thanks."

Not being a natural liar, I ended up mumbling shamefacedly to Geoffrey, "Fine," at which point he boomed, "So you still haven't got a feller!"

"Bridget! What are we going to do with you!" said Una. "You career girls! I don't know! Can't put it off forever, you know. Tick-tock-tick-tock."

"Yes. How does a woman manage to get to your age without being married?" roared Brian Enderby (married to Mavis, used to be president of the Rotary in Kettering), waving his sherry in the air. Fortunately my dad rescued me.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Bridget," he said, taking my arm. "Your mother has the entire Northamptonshire constabulary poised to comb the county with toothbrushes for your dismembered remains. Come and demonstrate your presence so I can start enjoying myself. How's the be-wheeled suitcase?"

"Big beyond all sense. How are the ear-hair clippers?"

"Oh, marvelously--you know--clippy."

It was all right, I suppose. I would have felt a bit mean if I hadn't turned up, but Mark Darcy ... Yuk. Every time my mother's rung up for weeks it's been, "Of course you remember the Darcys, darling. They came over when we were living in Buckingham and you and Mark played in the paddling pool!" or, "Oh! Did I mention Malcolm and Elaine are bringing Mark with them to Una's New Year's Day Turkey Curry Buffet? He's just back from America, apparently. Divorced. He's looking for a house in Holland Park. Apparently he had the most terrible time with his wife. Japanese. Very cruel race."

Then next time, as if out of the blue, "Do you remember Mark Darcy, darling? Malcolm and Elaine's son? He's one of these super-dooper top-notch lawyers. Divorced. Elaine says he works all the time and he's terribly lonely. I think he might be coming to Una's New Year's Day Turkey Curry Buffet, actually."

I don't know why she didn't just come out with it and say, "Darling, do shag Mark Darcy over the turkey curry, won't you? He's very rich."

"Come along and meet Mark," Una Alconbury singsonged before I'd even had time to get a drink down me. Being set up with a man against your will is one level of humiliation, but being literally dragged into it by Una Alconbury while caring for an acidic hangover, watched by an entire roomful of friends of your parents, is on another plane altogether.

The rich, divorced-by-cruel-wife Mark--quite tall--was standing with his back to the room, scrutinizing the contents of the Alconburys' bookshelves: mainly leather-bound series of books about the Third Reich, which Geoffrey sends off for from Reader's Digest. It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr. Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It's like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting "Cathy" and banging your head against a tree.

"Mark!" said Una, as if she was one of Santa Claus's fairies. "I've got someone nice for you to meet."

He turned round, revealing that what had seemed from the back like a harmless navy sweater was actually a V-neck diamond-patterned in shades of yellow and blue--as favored by the more elderly of the nation's sports reporters. As my friend Tom often remarks, it's amazing how much time and money can be saved in the world of dating by close attention to detail. A white sock here, a pair of red braces there, a gray slip-on shoe, a swastika, are as often as not all one needs to tell you there's no point writing down phone numbers and forking out for expensive lunches because it's never going to be a runner.

"Mark, this is Colin and Pam's daughter, Bridget," said Una, going all pink and fluttery. "Bridget works in publishing, don't you, Bridget?"

"I do indeed," I for some reason said, as if I were taking part in a Capital radio phone-in and was about to ask Una if I could "say hello" to my friends Jude, Sharon and Tom, my brother Jamie, everyone in the office, my mum and dad, and last of all all the people at the Turkey Curry Buffet.

"Well, I'll leave you two young people together," said Una. "Durr! I expect you're sick to death of us old fuddy-duddies."

"Not at all," said Mark Darcy awkwardly with a rather unsuccessful attempt at a smile, at which Una, after rolling her eyes, putting a hand to her bosom and giving a gay tinkling laugh, abandoned us with a toss of her head to a hideous silence.

"I. Um. Are you reading any, ah ... Have you read any good books lately?" he said.

Oh, for God's sake.

I racked my brain frantically to think when I last read a proper book. The trouble with working in publishing is that reading in your spare time is a bit like being a dustman and snuffling through the pig bin in the evening. I'm halfway through Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus, which Jude lent me, but I didn't think Mark Darcy, though clearly odd, was ready to accept himself as a Martian quite yet. Then I had a brainwave.

"Backlash, actually, by Susan Faludi," I said triumphantly. Hah! I haven't exactly read it as such, but feel I have as Sharon has been ranting about it so much. Anyway, completely safe option as no way diamond-pattern-jumpered goody-goody would have read five-hundred-page feminist treatise.

"Ah. Really?" he said. "I read that when it first came out. Didn't you find there was rather a lot of special pleading?"

"Oh, well, not too much ...," I said wildly, racking my brains for a way to get off the subject. "Have you been staying with your parents over New Year?"

"Yes," he said eagerly. "You too?"

"Yes. No. I was at a party in London last night. Bit hungover, actually." I gabbed nervously so that Una and Mum wouldn't think I was so useless with men I was failing to talk to even Mark Darcy. "But then I do think New Year's resolutions can't technically be expected to begin on New Year's Day, don't you? Since, because it's an extension of New Year's Eve, smokers are already on a smoking roll and cannot be expected to stop abruptly on the stroke of midnight with so much nicotine in the system. Also dieting on New Year's Day isn't a good idea as you can't eat rationally but really need to be free to consume whatever is necessary, moment by moment, in order to ease your hangover. I think it would be much more sensible if resolutions began generally on January the second."

"Maybe you should get something to eat," he said, then suddenly bolted off toward the buffet, leaving me standing on my own by the bookshelf while everybody stared at me, thinking, "So that's why Bridget isn't married. She repulses men."

The worst of it was that Una Alconbury and Mum wouldn't leave it at that. They kept making me walk round with trays of gherkins and glasses of cream sherry in a desperate bid to throw me into Mark Darcy's path yet again. In the end they were so crazed with frustration that the second I got within four feet of him with the gherkins Una threw herself across the room like Will Carling and said, "Mark, you must take Bridget's telephone number before you go, then you can get in touch when you're in London."

I couldn't stop myself turning bright red. I could feel it climbing up my neck. Now Mark would think I'd put her up to it.

"I'm sure Bridget's life in London is quite full enough already, Mrs. Alconbury," he said. Humph. It's not that I wanted him to take my phone number or anything, but I didn't want him to make it perfectly obvious to everyone that he didn't want to. As I looked down I saw that he was wearing white socks with a yellow bumblebee motif.

"Can't I tempt you with a gherkin?" I said, to show I had had a genuine reason for coming over, which was quite definitely gherkin-based rather than phone-number-related.

"Thank you, no," he said, looking at me with some alarm.

"Sure? Stuffed olive?" I pressed on.

"No, really."

"Silverskin onion?" I encouraged. "Beetroot cube?"

"Thank you," he said desperately, taking an olive.

"Hope you enjoy it," I said triumphantly.

Toward the end I saw him being harangued by his mother and Una, who marched him over toward me and stood just behind while he said stiffly, "Do you need driving back to London? I'm staying here but I could get my car to take you."

"What, all on its own?" I said.

He blinked at me.

"Durr! Mark has a company car and a driver, silly," said Una.

"Thank you, that's very kind," I said. "But I shall be taking one of my trains in the morning."

2 a.m. Oh, why am I so unattractive? Why? Even a man who wears bumblebee socks thinks I am horrible. Hate the New Year. Hate everyone. Except Daniel Cleaver. Anyway, have got giant tray-sized bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk left over from Christmas on dressing table, also amusing joke gin and tonic miniature. Am going to consume them and have fag.


At the start of the New Year, 32-year-old "singleton" Bridget decides it's time to take control of her life and start keeping a diary. 

Release Date: April 13, 2001
Release Time: 97 minutes

Director: Sharon Maguire

Cast:
RenΓ©e Zellweger as Bridget Jones
Colin Firth as Mark Darcy
Hugh Grant as Daniel Cleaver
Jim Broadbent as Mr. Colin Jones
Gemma Jones as Mrs. Pamela Jones
Celia Imrie as Una Alconbury
James Faulkner as Uncle Geoffrey
Shirley Henderson as Jude
James Callis as Tom
Lisa Barbuscia as Lara
Charmian May as Mrs. Darcy
Paul Brooke as Mr. "Tits pervert" Fitzherbert
Sally Phillips as Shazza
Embeth Davidtz as Natasha Glenville
Patrick Barlow as Julian
Felicity Montagu as Perpetua
Donald Douglas as Admiral Darcy
Dolly Wells as Woney

Awards:
2002 Academy Awards
Best Actress - RenΓ©e Zellweger - Nominated

2002 BAFTAs
Best Actress - RenΓ©e Zellweger - Nominated
Best Supporting Actor - Colin Firth - Nominated
Best Adapted Screenplay - Richard Curtis, Andrew Davies, Helen Fielding - Nominated
Best British Film - Nominated

2002 Golden Globes
Best Motion Picture(Comedy or Musical) - Nominated
Best Actress in Motion Picture(Comedy or Musical) - RenΓ©e Zellweger - Nominated




Trailer

Clips



Author Bio:
Helen Fielding is the author of Bridget Jones’s Diary, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy, and Bridget Jones’s Baby: The Diaries. She was part of the screenwriting team on the associated movies. She has two children and lives in London and Los Angeles.


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Thursday, December 30, 2021

5th Day of Christmas Author Spotlight: Jackie North



Jackie North
Jackie North has been writing stories since grade school and her dream was to someday leave her corporate day job behind and travel the world. She also wanted to put her English degree to good use and write romance novels, because for years she's had a never-ending movie of made-up love stories in her head that simply wouldn't leave her alone.

Luckily, she discovered m/m romance and decided that men falling in love with other men was exactly what she wanted to write about. In this dazzling new world, she turned her grocery-store romance ideas around and is now putting them to paper as fast as her fingers can type. She creates characters who are a bit flawed and broken, who find themselves on the edge of society, and maybe a few who are a little bit lost, but who all deserve a happily ever after. (And she makes sure they get it!)

She likes long walks on the beach, the smell of lavender and rainstorms, and enjoys sleeping in on snowy mornings. She is especially fond of pizza and beer and, when time allows, long road trips with soda fountain drinks and rock and roll music. In her heart, there is peace to be found everywhere, but since in the real world this isn't always true, Jackie writes for love.


EMAIL: jackienorthauthor@gmail.com




The Little Matchboy
Summary:
One is a Chicago hoodlum. The other is a young man with an abusive father.

One is not looking for love. The other is lost in a swirl of snow and despair and needs to be found.

Sean is in Harlin to visit a friend and is uncomfortable with the small town vibe. His plan is to head back to Chicago asap, but after he stops a father from beating his son, the young man catches his heart. Should Sean go or should he stay?

Ever since his mom left them, Roddy is overwhelmed by his Dad’s drinking and abuse as he struggles to keep the family shop afloat. When Dad is arrested, Roddy is left on his own.

Will Sean return home? Will Roddy find his way in the snow?

A m/m fairy tale romance retelling of The Little Matchgirl. Includes cameos from Cory and Alex from Hot Chocolate Kisses.




The Foreman and the Drifter
Summary:
Farthingdale Ranch #1
“If only Leland would forget forget that Jamie was a drifter. If only he’d give their hearts a chance.”

With Farthingdale Ranch at risk, Leland Tate, ranch manager, has to get tough and make sure everyone on the ranch follows the rules he’s laid out. That means no handouts, no fraternizing, and no drifters.

But what happens when a young drifter comes looking for a job? What happens when that drifter makes Leland want to break all the rules?

A gay, m/m cowboy romance with age gap, hurt/comfort, first time, rescue, sunshine/grumpy, boss/employee, emotional scars, and opposites attract. A little sweet, a little steamy, with a guaranteed HEA.

Buy The Foreman and the Drifter to fall deeply and forever today with the first book in the new Farthingdale Ranch Series!




The Duke of Hand to Heart
Summary:
Royal Powers #6
Duke of Camprodon, Rainmaker, Merrick Blackburn's life is coming apart. His groom left him at the altar days before the wedding and he's been accused of causing a drought by Tarik, the Duke of Arles.

Merrick's winery, Hand to Heart, one of the oldest in the land, is in jeopardy, due to neglect and that dang drought. Most of his staff has left, and he's on the verge of going broke.

Desperate, Merrick hires handsome Ryan McGrail as steward to bring the vineyard back to life. But Ryan distracts Merrick from the job at hand and Merrick isn't sure, but Ryan might be flirting with him.

Ryan lost his last job protecting his cousin from abuse. Ryan hates being in the spotlight shining on the Duke, but he needs a job and needs it quick. He's not sure, but is Merrick flirting with him?

Will the growing feelings between them save the winery? Will it ever rain? Will Merrick ever make it to the altar?



Heroes for Ghosts
Summary:

Love Across Time #1
Soulmates across time. A sacrifice that could keep them apart forever.

In present day, near the village of Ornes, France, Devon works on his master's thesis in history as he fantasizes about meeting a WWI American Doughboy.

In 1916, during the Battle of Ornes, Stanley is a young soldier facing the horrors of the battlefield.

Mourning the death of his friends from enemy fire, Stanley volunteers to bring the message for retreat so he can save everyone else in his battalion. While on his mission, mustard gas surrounds Stanley and though he thinks he is dying, he finds himself in a peaceful green meadow where he literally trips over Devon.

Devon doesn't believe Stanley is who he says he is, a soldier from WWI. But a powerful attraction grows between them, and if Stanley is truly a visitor from the past, then he is Devon's dream come true. The problem is, Stanley's soul wants to finish his mission, and time keeps yanking him back to relive his fateful last morning over and over, even as his heart and body long to stay with Devon.

Will Stanley have to choose between Devon and saving his battalion? Will time betray their love, leaving each alone?

A male/male time travel romance, complete with hurt/comfort, French coffee, warm blankets, fireplace kisses, the angst of separation, and true love across time.



Hot Chocolate Kisses
Summary:
Snow Globe Christmas
Alex had to leave the mean streets of Chicago in a hurry. Now he’s weathering his first Christmas in a small town in Colorado.

Cory had a boyfriend and now he doesn’t, which means the Christmas holiday is turning out to the the loneliest he’s had in years.

When they meet at a Holiday Fair, Alex finds himself being drawn into Cory’s world. A world where there is grace to be found in a simple, home-cooked meal, books read out loud by firelight, and the golden glow of welcome.

Alex has never wanted anything as tame as hearth and home. Now that he wants it, it’s not anything he can have. Nothing feels he deserves, at any rate.

Can Cory and the Spirit of Christmas Present prove to Alex that love is love?

An m/m romance with cakewalks, blizzards, hurt/comfort, a snow globe, hot chocolate kisses, and Christmas!

Although this book is part of A Snow Globe Christmas series, it is a complete stand alone and it isn’t a requirement that you read the previous books to follow along.



The Little Matchboy

The Foreman and the Drifter

The Duke of Hand to Heart

Heroes for Ghosts

Hot Chocolate Kisses