Release Blitz: Christmas Crackers Collection by Jay Northcote

Title: Christmas Crackers

Author: Jay Northcote

Genre: M/M Romance, Christmas

Release Date: November 16, 2020

Cover Design: Garrett Leigh at Black Jazz Design

Summary:

Christmas Crackers: An MM Holiday Romance Collection

Three sweet and sexy MM Christmas stories in one great collection!

Cold Feet

Best friends snowed in together. When the heat rises, will they get cold feet?

What Happens at Christmas

When two friends pose as boyfriends, could what happens at Christmas turn into something more?

A Family for Christmas

Zac never had a family of his own, but Rudy has enough to share.

What Happens at Christmas

Original Review November 2015:

Talk about a great introduction to a new author! I've never read Jay Northcote before and I can honestly say it won't be the last time either.  Sean and Justin are such great BFFs but watching them become something more is heartwarming.  Course, had they spoke up and been honest with each other than this journey would have happened a while ago and caused a lot less inner questioning, but then where is the fun in that? A great addition to my holiday library.

RATING: 

Cold Feet

Summary:

Best friends snowed in together. When the heat rises, will they get cold feet?

Getting snowed in at a remote cottage in Wales with someone he’d fancied for ages isn’t exactly how Sam expected to spend Christmas. His feelings for Ryan are pointless. Ryan’s straight—or so he thought.

Until now, Ryan’s kept his feelings for Sam buried. Why ruin a friendship over what might only be gay experimentation? Playing it cool seems safer, until a cold snap makes sharing body heat vital. In their Welsh safe haven, anything seems possible.

As Ryan’s reserve melts away, Sam wants more than stolen kisses under the mistletoe. But a sudden thaw means making decisions. They could face the New Year together—unless one of them gets cold feet.

What Happens at Christmas

Summary:

When two friends pose as boyfriends, could what happens at Christmas turn into something more?

Justin is recently and unhappily single. Christmas is coming, and he doesn’t want to face his ex alone at their office party. So Sean—Justin’s best mate and long-time secret crush—volunteers to go with him and pretend to be his new flame.

Sean has always lusted after Justin from afar, but there’s never been a good opportunity to ask him for more than friendship. Posing as Justin’s boyfriend isn’t a chore, and if Justin wants to rebound onto him, Sean’s more than willing. At the party pretence and reality blur, and a kiss on the dance floor leads to a night of passion.

In the aftermath, they both assume it was a one-time thing until fate intervenes. Stuck together in London over the holidays, they give in to temptation again. But what happens at Christmas stays at Christmas… right?

A Family for Christmas

Summary:

Zac never had a family of his own, but Rudy has enough to share.

Shy, inexperienced Rudy has a crush on Zac from the moment his new colleague walks through the door. On an office night out before Christmas, Rudy finds the courage to make a move, and they form a tentative bond. When he discovers Zac will be alone at Christmas, he invites Zac to come home with him.

Zac prefers to keep people at arm’s length. Yet when Rudy offers him a family Christmas it’s impossible to resist. With no parents of his own, Zac is pleasantly surprised to be welcomed by Rudy’s. The only drawback is that everyone assumes they’re a couple. Unwilling to disappoint Rudy’s mum and make Christmas awkward, they decide not to deny it.

It’s not a chore for Zac to pose as Rudy’s boyfriend, but the pretence makes him want things that scare him—things like a real relationship with Rudy. Zac’s suffered enough rejection in his life already and is afraid to risk his heart. If he can get over his past rejection and let Rudy inside his armour, he might get more for Christmas than he ever imagined.

Cold Feet

Afterwards, Sam denied he’d started it.

He’d been aiming for the tree behind Ryan, not at Ryan himself, he insisted. But whatever its intended target, Sam’s snowball hit Ryan perfectly on the back of his neck, exploding on impact and sending powdery snow down the gap between beanie and jacket.

After that, mayhem ensued. Snowballs flying as they ran and ducked, laughing and trash-talking each other. They were in a small copse with a few trees and bushes for cover, but as soon as one of them ventured out in search of a new patch of snow to make missiles with, the other would take the opportunity to release a fresh barrage of snowballs.

Finally, frustrated by Sam’s surprisingly good aim, Ryan reverted to his rugby skills and tackled Sam, knocking him full length into the snow with an “Oomph!” Of course, Ryan went down too. But by then he was too wet and cold to care.

They were on a slope, and the impact caused them to roll together, over and over until Ryan wondered if they were going to turn into a giant snowball like characters in a cartoon. But they finally came to rest, panting and laughing as the slope levelled out.

Sam ended up pinned beneath Ryan, laughing out loud. He’d lost his hat at some point in their tumble, and his hair was in his eyes. Snow crystals had caught in it, glinting in the sunlight. His smile was wide and infectious, and Ryan laughed too, dazzled for a moment. Then Sam’s gaze drifted over Ryan’s shoulder and focused on something above them.

“Is that mistletoe?” he asked.

Ryan pushed himself up and offered a hand to Sam to help him back onto his feet. Then he tilted his head back to squint at the spherical tangle of leaves in the bare branches of the tree above them. “I think so.”

Ryan met Sam’s eyes again, then realised he was still holding his hand. They each had gloves on, and Ryan wished they didn’t. He wanted to feel Sam’s skin. They stared at each other for a moment, and Sam licked his lips. They were pink, a little chapped from the cold, and Ryan’s gaze locked onto them. His heart surged, and panicky heat flooded him.

What Happens at Christmas

Justin’s phone chimed with a text, interrupting Sean’s train of thought.

Justin picked up his phone to read the message. “Ugh.” He put the phone back down without typing a reply and ran his hands through his hair.

“What’s up?”

Justin sighed. “It’s our work Christmas party next weekend. I’ve already got a ticket, and nearly everyone in the office goes, but it’s for partners as well. One of my co-workers, Jess, is bugging me to come, but I can’t face it. I bet Andy’s going to bring his new boyfriend. I know he’s a shit and I shouldn’t let him get to me, but the thought of him parading around with my replacement, and me being there on my own, isn’t very appealing.”

“Is it too late to find someone to take?”

“No, they don’t need final numbers till Monday.”

“Well, then. Take someone else and flirt like crazy in front of him. Show him you can do better and that you’ve already moved on.”

“But I’m not ready to date. It’s only been two weeks, and I’m still at the feeling-sorry-for-myself stage.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sean offered. “I could be your date. We could pretend we’ve got together and are a couple now.”

“Yeah?” Justin looked thoughtful. “Are you sure?”

Duh. It would hardly be much of a sacrifice to flirt with Justin all night. It would actually be a relief not to have to hide the way he felt for a change.

“Sure,” Sean replied. “I think I can manage to fake that I’m arse-over-tit infatuated with you. As long as it’s only for a few hours.”

“Gee, thanks.” Justin rolled his eyes. “You really know how to make an already-wounded ego feel better. But if you’re up for it, we should totally do it. Andy was always jealous of you before you went away. He saw you as competition because we lived together and were so close. I’d love to see his face when I walk in with you on my arm. I think he’ll hate it even if he’s moved on.”

“Okay.” Sean rubbed his hands together, excited at the prospect of getting to piss off Andy. “Let’s do it! Text your friend Jess back and tell her you’re in—with a hot date.”

A Family for Christmas

The toast had popped, and when Rudy went to get the butter out of the fridge, he automatically straightened the photo of his family in its magnetic frame, a shot of them from last Christmas at the dinner table, all wearing paper hats and raising their glasses at the camera. He froze, staring at their smiling faces, as another memory from last night came back to him.

Oh my God. Had he really invited Zac home for Christmas, or was that a dream? Nope, Rudy was pretty sure it was real now the details were coming back to him. But the weirdest part was that Zac had said yes. Maybe he just said yes to shut Rudy up and was hoping he wouldn’t remember.

“You all right there?”

Zac’s voice made him jump guiltily. “Yeah, sorry. Miles away. I’m in a bit of a daze this morning.” He got the butter out and put it on the kitchen table. On autopilot, he gathered plates, knives, spreads and the coffee. Zac was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Have a seat.”

As they poured, spread, ate, and drank, the silence between them grew until Rudy wanted to hack through it with the butter knife. He had no idea where to begin, but they needed to leave for work in half an hour and he couldn’t leave things like this. Rudy had to know what was going on.

Was Zac seriously planning on coming home with him for Christmas? Rudy didn’t regret issuing the invitation, other than how hopelessly needy and overeager it made him look. He liked Zac—okay, he fancied him too, but that wasn’t the point—and he didn’t like the idea of Zac spending Christmas alone. Nobody should spend Christmas alone unless they really wanted to, and Rudy had got the feeling that Zac didn’t. Zac’s excuses about being antisocial hadn’t rung true after how he’d opened up last night, and his defensiveness had come off as protesting too much.

Rudy began tentatively. “So… um. About this Christmas plan….”

“Look, it’s okay. You were drunk. I’m sure you didn’t really mean to invite me home with you for Christmas. Don’t worry about it.”

“No! That’s not what I meant.” Rudy drew in a breath to give him the courage to be honest. “I did mean it. Okay, yes, I was drunk, and I wouldn’t have had the guts to ask you otherwise. But I’d really like it if you came.” He met Zac’s dark eyes and willed him to believe him. “It would be cool to get to know you better, and my family would be totally fine with it. I don’t like to think about you being on your own on Christmas Day—unless you really want to be.”

Zac shrugged, his shoulders tense and eyes wary. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

A wave of pity swept over Rudy, but he instinctively knew that if he let that show, it would be a mistake. Instead, he shrugged. “Well the offer’s there. It’s your call.”

Zac took another bite of his toast and chewed slowly while Rudy waited. He could almost hear the gears turning in Zac’s head as he weighed his options. Finally he nodded. “I’ll come.”

Happiness flooded Rudy and he couldn’t stop a huge grin from spreading over his face. “Brilliant. I’ll phone Mum later.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Zac smiled too—a little uncertainly, but Rudy would take what he could get from Zac. His gaze dropped to Zac’s lips, and something twisted in his chest as he thought about kissing him last night. They really ought to talk about that too, but Rudy was afraid that if he brought it up, Zac would insist it was a drunken mistake. As long as the kiss went unmentioned, Rudy’s hope could live on.

Author Bio:

Jay lives just outside Bristol in the West of England. He comes from a family of writers, but always used to believe that the gene for fiction writing had passed him by. He spent years only ever writing emails, articles, or website content.

One day, Jay decided to try and write a short story—just to see if he could—and found it rather addictive. He hasn’t stopped writing since.

Jay writes contemporary romance about men who fall in love with other men. He self-publishes under the imprint Jaybird Press.

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National Family Caregiver Month 2020 Part 4

💖💙💚💛💜💗💜💛💚💙💖

As my mother's 24/7 caregiver, November being National Family Caregiver Month has always been important to me.  Not because I want personal recognition for what I do but to help show people that caregiving is more than just medical assistance, that it effects every aspects of a person's life.  I would give anything to make it so my mother did not need the assistance but that isn't possible so I do this so she can have the best quality of life and still live in her own home.  So I realized that there are stories out there that have caregivers and whether it's a big or small part of the plot doesn't matter, they help show people what caregivers provide all within very entertaining romances and reading experiences. 

💖💙💚💛💜💗💜💛💚💙💖

Part 1  /  Part 2  /  Part 3

The Greenest Isle by Brigham Vaughn
Summary:
Colors #2

When Siobhán Murray gets a call from a neighbor saying her estranged father, Patrick, has been admitted to a hospital after a serious heart attack, she’s desperate to get to Ireland. Her girlfriend, Annie Slocum, books the first possible flight to Dublin for both of them.

Despite their difficult relationship, Siobhán wants to help her father, so she and Annie move in with him during his recovery. Although Annie loves Siobhán and Ireland, and wants to be supportive, she feels out of place and disconnected from Siobhán.

Patrick hasn’t been the same since his wife’s death fifteen years ago, and it takes time and patience for Siobhán and him to work through their issues.

Things slowly begin to improve as Annie figures out a way to expand her Boston-based blog to include some Irish content, and Siobhán’s spark of creativity re-ignites after lying dormant for more than a year.

But there’s one more hurdle they must overcome, and that decision will shape their entire future.

Original Review June 2019:

I'm embarrassed to admit that I had no idea how close Brigham Vaughn was to releasing The Greenest Isle, her sequel to A Brighter Palette.  Once I saw it was out(and luckily for me it was on release day that it came to my attention) I went and 1-clicked it and set down to read almost immediately.  I wish I could say I read it in one sitting but life gets in the way and I was interrupted.  HOWEVER, it kept pulling me back every free minute I found and though reading books like that isn't my way-of-choice I couldn't help it, I just couldn't wait till I had a free half hour.  So at times it was a bit "choppy" for me but that was down to my only reading a couple pages at time occasionally and not the author's writing style.

I want to start off by saying for those looking for full-on heat and lots of it might be a bit disappointed.  Don't get me wrong what's there is definitely WOW! but there isn't an overabundance of heat-ness but that's okay.  For me, sometimes a story is even better written that way, as the saying goes "less is more" and in the case of Annie and Siobhan I found it to be just right.  Considering everything that is being dealt with its understandable that Siobhan's passionate side has cooled a bit.

As someone who has been the primary 24/7 caregiver to a parent for the better part of the past 25 years, I completely understand how it can change a person's life as well as those close to them and I didn't have to travel to another country on top of it.  Perhaps it is my role as my mother's caregiver that helped me bond with Siobhan and not so much with Annie in regards to her feeling, well I hate to use the term neglected but left out or shut out at times.  Caregiving is a 24/7 job, it is all consuming and when you have the kind of focus that Siobhan has its completely understandable how she puts everything into helping her dad.  Just because I relate more to Siobhan in The Greenest Isle doesn't mean I don't sympathize at times with Annie, after all her life has been flipped on its side, I just bonded more to Siobhan. 

Watching these two navigate this newest leg of their journey is a real treat that isn't always easy.  Caregiving  is often used in fiction but more times than not its in small doses and not as life-changing or life-altering as Brigham Vaughn has done in Greenest, the whole moving to Ireland bit isn't exactly an everyday scenario.  You can tell when an author has some degree of personal experience with caregiving because Miss Vaughn has tackled it and then managed to balance it with the ongoing romantic relationship that doesn't come from just research.  As a caregiver, that part of the story is greatly appreciated. 

Now you might think because I concentrated so much on Siobhan's caring for her dad that that is all the story is about but its not, there is so much more to Greenest its just that element really stuck with me.  I don't think HEA is ever 100% guaranteed in life and that no matter how happy a couple is there is always work needed to be put into the relationship.  This is one of those hurdles that requires patience and determination to further their HEA and Brigham Vaughn balances it all absolutely perfectly with realism that made The Greenest Isle a reading pleasure.  If you loved A Brighter Palette than you'll enjoy this as well and if you haven't read Brighter yet, now is the perfect time to jump in.

RATING:

His Grandfather's Watch by NR Walker
Summary:
It was just an ordinary day for Alex Harper at Harper's Antiquities, until Callum Winters walked in with a watch.

"It was my Grandfather's. I was hoping you could tell me something about it."

A love story of two couples, generations apart.

***Second Edition. Earlier edition released in 2012. No additional content has been added.***

2nd Re-Read Review November 2020:
This story just keeps getting better with each read.  A well balanced story of "Oh no!" and "Oh yay!" I know I mentioned it in my original review but as I read it now for National Family Caregiver Month, I feel I need to point it out again:  When Callum says, "My life hasn't been about me in a long time" that sums up how I feel, how I've felt for the past 25 years.  Don't get me wrong, I am honored and blessed to be my mom's 24/7 caregiver(and my grandmother's before she died) but it is an unending job, there is no timecard to punch in and out.  Some days I have time, some I don't but it's all consuming and with those 10 little words, the author sums up what we as caregivers all feel and for that I can only say "Thank You, NR Walker" because too many people don't get that.  I mention it originally and again because with that one phrase made up of 10 small itty bitty words, the author created a connection for me to all the characters, not just Callum but each and every one in the story.  

If you haven't read His Grandfather's Watch, I highly recommend doing so, it's short on quantity but packed to the rafters on quality. It's hard to connect with characters in a novella/short story because of the story length(or lack thereof) in general but for an author to really give their reader 2 love stories in a novella, well that is an achievement of talent.  A delightful gem not to be missed.

Re-Read Review September 2018:
I really can't think of a single thing to add to my original review that would express how wonderful this novella is other than, it's shortness may be in the number of pages but not in the quality of the story.  His Grandfather's Watch had me even more teary-eyed now than it did when I first read it three years ago.  It is rare that you get two heart felt love stories in a novella but that is exactly what this little gem brings to the table.

I chose to re-read this now in honor of Grandparents Day but whenever you decide to pick it up you won't regret it and I highly recommend reading this one because not only will you be entertained but you might also learn a thing or two about understanding your family's past.  I know I can honestly say that had I not already been deeply invested in my family genealogy this story would have had me itching to discover my family's past.

Original Review July 2015:
This novella may be a short quick read but it is more powerful than many full length novels I have read.  I was sitting in my front yard under the shade of my maple tree and was so glad I had sunglasses on because otherwise I probably would have scared the children playing across the street when the tears started running.    The blend of contemporary and historical is perfect for the emotional buildup for the story the watch represents.

The historical part of the watch's tale touched my heart a bit more but I am a bit of a history buff so stories of the past usually do.  As my mother's 24/7 caregiver for the past 20 years, when Callum said "My life hasn't been about me in a long time" really struck a chord because in those 10 words she summed up what every caregiver lives not to mention the kind of man Callum is and the fact that Alex understands it also goes a long way in describing his character as well.

I rarely give novellas a full 5 bookmark rating just because my heart prefers full length stories but this is such a powerful emotional ride that nothing short of the full 5 is fitting.

RATING:

The Greenest Isle by Brigham Vaughn

“Da?” Siobhán’s voice cracked. She rested her hand on her father’s. He blinked slowly, seeming to come out from a very deep sleep.

“Aileen?” He sounded hoarse as he squinted at her. It made the lines around his eyes deepen.

“No it’s me. Siobhán.”

His expression fell for a moment, but he studied her face intently. “It can’t be. You’re in Boston.”

She shook her head. “No, Mrs. O’Connor called yesterday to tell me you were in hospital. After she explained what happened, I flew to Dublin. With Annie.”

“Annie?” He turned piercing blue eyes on Annie and examined her critically. Annie fought the urge to fidget. Despite the freshening up she’d attempted to do in the airport bathroom, she knew she looked like a mess right now.  Ahh, well, there was nothing she could do about it now.

“Annie’s my girlfriend, Da. We met a year and a half ago, and we’re living together.”

His gaze was accusing as he looked at his daughter. “You didn’t tell me you’d met someone.”

Ouch. It stung that in all the time they’d been together, Siobhán hadn’t told her father about Annie. But Annie tried to remind herself that Patrick and Siobhán’s relationship was strained at best. What did she expect?

“I love her, Da,” Siobhán said quietly.

“Come here then,” he gestured weakly toward Annie, but his voice was still commanding. “Let me have a look at you.”

Annie stepped forward. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Murray.”

He reached out a hand, and she took it. His fingers were cool, but there was more strength in his grip than she’d have expected. “Call me Patrick. Mr. Murray was me da’s name.”

“Patrick,” she said. “I’m Annie Slocum.”

His gaze narrowed. “English name, but you’re from Boston, I take it? You sound like it anyway.”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ve lived in that area my whole life.”

“That’s good, so.” He looked away, and Annie had the sensation that she’d been dismissed. Annie walked over to the window, leaving Siobhán and her father to catch up.

“How are you feeling, Da?” Siobhán asked.

“Tired. Annoyed by all the fuss.”

“Mrs. O’Connor told me you had a heart attack. And the nurse said it was serious.”

“Well, I’m not dead.”

Annie glanced over to see Siobhán give her father a tremulous smile. “I’m glad of that. What did they tell you about the prognosis?”

“I don’t know. The doctor was spouting some gibberish. You’ll have to ask him. Maybe you’ll understand him better than I did.”

“I did speak with the nurse. She said you’re going to need to make some lifestyle changes.” Patrick let out an annoyed-sounding “hurrumph”. “And that your recovery will be slow. But Annie and I will help you with that.”

His Grandfather's Watch by NR Walker

Chapter One
Sitting in the back room at my desk, with a dismantled 1901 Newman's clock, I heard the bell that chimed every time a customer walked through the door. My dad was behind the counter, and I heard him greet the customer, making small talk, discussing whatever antique it was they'd brought with them.

It's what we did.

My father's love of all things antique grew into this business, Harper's Antiquities. Dad was the expert and Mom did the research, but they both traveled, scouring the globe for their life's passion. My brother Scott did antique furniture restoration, but it wasn't something I ever saw myself doing. Then I started helping out when I was a kid at school, and I found a love of clocks.

It’s my specialty.

I could hear Dad talking to the customer, but didn't pay them any mind until I heard my name.

"Alex?"

Putting down the part in my hand, I walked through to the showroom where I found my father and the customer he was talking to. Very different from my pale skin, black hair and grayish eyes, he was a good looking guy, similar age to me, but with sandy brown, kinda longish hair, tanned skin and blue eyes. He was holding a pocket watch in his hand.

"This is my son, Alex," Dad explained. "He's the expert on watches like yours."

I extended my hand in professional courtesy. "Hello."

"Callum Winters," he said by way of greeting, putting the watch on the counter before shaking my hand. There was an accent, Southern I thought, but I wasn't sure.

Dad waited for us to let go of each other's hands, then he looked at me and smiled. "Callum was just telling me he'd like to know more about this watch."

I looked at the silver watch casing and fob chain, then at its owner. I reached my hand toward the watch, but before I touched it, I asked, "May I?"

"Sure," he nodded.

Picking it up, I could tell a few things from a visual inspection. "This casing was a popular design in the 1940's," I told him. Gently, I opened the casing to reveal the quartz face. "The dial is Hamilton, but I won't know dates or maker for certain, unless I take the back off and look at the movement."

"Could you do that?" he asked. His accent was definitely southern. "I was hoping to know as much about it as I could."

I smiled. "Sure. I'll need to grab some details, and I should be able to look at it in about two days. Then I can tell you everything I know."

Callum nodded. "That'd be great." We looked at each other for a little too long, and I couldn't help but wonder if this cute, Southern man was gay.

Dad seemed to think so, because with a cheeky smirk, he handed me the register log, looked between us and not-so subtly said, "Callum, I'll leave you in Alex's very capable hands." He pointed behind us, "I have... stuff... I need to do out the back."

Callum politely thanked him, and I considered kicking my father in the shins. We were behind the counter, so it's not like Callum would have seen me do it. But Dad must have picked up on the look I gave him, because he smiled, turned quickly and disappeared through the door.

I grabbed a pen, handed Callum the register and asked him to fill in his details. I picked up the watch, turning it over in my hands. It was a nice piece, and I couldn't help but ask, "What do you know about the watch?"

He looked up from the paperwork. "Um, it was my grandfather's. That's about all I know."

He handed me the completed form, and I told him as procedure, I required some ID. Taking out his wallet, he handed me his driver's licence. His Texas driver's licence.

"I just moved here," he said. "I've got my change of address receipt here somewhere."

He started looking through his wallet, and I stopped him. "No, its fine. I just need to sight photo ID, that's all."

He smiled kindly and nodded. "So, two days?"

"Yeah. I'm half way through another job. Then I can look at this, and I'll give you a call when I'm done," I told him. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

He shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. "No, not really. Just dates, make, model... to be honest, I'm not really sure."

As I was putting the watch and paperwork in a paper envelope, I asked him, "Would you like a valuation?"

"No," he said simply. "Monetary value isn't important."

He thanked me, I told him I'd be in touch and he left. When I walked back into the workshop, Dad grinned at me. "He was a nice young man," he said.

"Mom!" I yelled to the upstairs office, where my mother would have undoubtedly had her head in a catalogue. "Dad's trying to set me up again."

She yelled back, "Was he cute?"

Oh for crying out loud.

He was actually, but that's not the point. Dad chuckled at me.
Ignoring him, I sat the pocket watch on my desk and turned my attention back to the clock I was working on.

I managed to ignore both my parents and their comments about cute, brown-haired watch owners until they got bored and left me alone. And I managed to push the thoughts of the pocket watch and its handsome Texan owner out of my mind until it was time to go home.

*****

I arrived back at work a little before nine in the morning and headed straight for my desk, which was more like a workstation, when the paper sleeve holding the pocket watch caught my eye.
I picked it up and took the watch out, feeling the cool, heavy weight of it in my hand. I didn't hear my dad come up behind me, and his voice startled me. "How's Mr. Yeo's clock coming along?"

"Oh, shit! You scared me," I said with a laugh, clutching my heart. Then looking back to the clock I had half done, I told him, "Um, it should be ready by lunchtime tomorrow."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I think you should do the watch instead."
I looked at the pocket watch I was still holding. "Why?"

"Because Mr. Yeo is a collector," he replied with a shrug. "To him that clock is just something else he acquired. Even old Mr. Yeo will tell you that. But this," he pointed to the watch in my hand, "this means something."

Dad smiled at me. "Mr. Yeo can wait a day or two. He won't mind. I'll even phone him myself."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He nodded. "He wants me to go with him to look at an 18th Century hand-carved Italian rococo centre table he'd seen at an auction house anyway, so I need to speak to him."

"Okay," I agreed. Within twenty minutes, I had Mr. Yeo's clock itemized and put away and the silver pocket watch in front of me.
I made my usual notes as I proceeded detailing. There was nothing remarkable about it, until I removed the back casing.

Because what I found hidden in the back of the pocket watch was unlike anything I'd encountered before.

I took out the client form with Callum Winters' details on it and picked up the phone. "Callum Winters? It's Alex, from Harper Antiquities. I'm calling about your watch."

"Yes?" he answered, unsure.

"Can you come into the store?" I asked. "There's something you need to see."

Brigham Vaughn

Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time author. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn't let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can't wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.

Her books range from short stories to novellas to novels. They explore gay, bisexual, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.

NR Walker
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn't have it any other way.

She is many things; a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who she gives them life with words.

She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things...but likes it even more when they fall in love. She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.

She’s been writing ever since...

Brigham Vaughn

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NR Walker

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The Greenest Isle by Brigham Vaughn

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His Grandfather's Watch by NR Walker

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🦃Monday Morning's Menu🦃: Vincent's Thanksgiving Date by R Cooper

Summary:
Socially anxious Vincent has resigned himself to spending Thanksgiving alone this year, just him, the parade, and some pie. The last thing he expects is Cory, the handsome neighbor he's been daydreaming about, to knock on his door with a holiday crisis of his own. Vincent would love to help him, but he's afraid that the more time Cory spends with him, the sooner Vincent's anxiety will drive him away.

What he doesn't realize is that Cory finds Vincent's gentle ways adorable and has been waiting for a chance to talk with him. Cory also firmly believes that a day like Thanksgiving should be spent with the people you want to be around--and he wants to be around Vincent. If that means pretending to need help in order to coax Vincent from his apartment, then Cory is willing to do it. The only potential hitch in the plan is Vincent himself. Can Vincent gather the courage to go after what he wants? Or will he spend his Thanksgiving exactly as he planned, with only a pumpkin pie for company?

Re-Read Review November 2020:

Has it really been 5 years since I read Vincent's Thanksgiving Date?  Where does the time go?  This is still an amazing holiday tale that was a perfect way to start Thanksgiving week here in the US.  Vincent's awkwardness is so relatable for me and the way Cory gets in and connects with Vincent is sweet, adorable, and really makes this story a great holiday gem.  There really isn't enough Thanksgiving tales out there but even if there were hundreds, R Cooper's Vincent's Thanksgiving Date would stand out as one of the best.  I gave it only 4-1/2 bookmarks 5 years ago because at the time I didn't fully appreciate short novellas and often took a half mark off just for the shortness but I have since grown increasingly fond of them.  This time around this delightfully sweet gem gets a full 5.  This may not make a yearly holiday re-read but it won't be 5 years before I re-visit Vincent and Cory again.

RATING:

Original Review November 2015:
I don't even know what to say about this one without giving too much away but it is an amazing holiday tale.  I loved the imperfections of Vincent that made him perfect in Cory's eyes, even if he never saw it coming.

RATING:

“But it’s Thanksgiving.” Judith sighed dramatically and loudly, in a perfect imitation of their mother, which meant long on guilt and short on any obvious signs of affection. Vincent rolled his eyes in understanding even though his sister wouldn’t see it through the phone. He’d refused to call their mother for that very reason, but Judith always felt the need to try to have a good relationship with her for the sake of the kids. Why, Vincent had never really understood considering their mother did nothing but pick on the boys for perceived failings.  

“That’s what she said to me when I told her I wasn’t going to bring the kids out there for the holidays if she couldn’t behave herself. As though Thanksgiving gives her the right to force us to listen to her poison. I swear she always calls me during the big holidays just to add to my stress.” Judith was winding down now. He could tell because the two of them had shared many, many similar conversations over the years.  

Vincent took the opportunity to move his phone to his other ear and finally get out of his car. His sister had called while he’d been pulling into the apartment complex lot, and he’d stayed in his car to talk to her because there had been a family gathered out in front of the complex packing suitcases and bags into their car in preparation for a trip. Vincent didn’t recognize them from his part of the building, but that didn’t mean they didn’t live there, and there wasn’t anything more awkward than encountering people who knew him and assumed he knew them when he had no idea who they were. Although once he’d seen someone from his high school in a mall and no matter where he ducked, he’d run into them over and over again. Neither of them had known what to say to each other the first place, and by the end they had gone from stiltedly smiling at each other in acknowledgement to pretending not to see each other.  

“Vin, you there? You know you don’t have to take her call if she calls you. You shouldn’t spend your holiday with someone who will make you miserable.”  

Vincent stopped with his hand on the hood of his car, then frowned. “Why would I be spending Thanksgiving with Mom?” he wondered aloud, and didn’t like how quiet Judith got.  

“So… you know how I told you James might have to work? Well, he does. Yeah, it sucks,” Judith added, when Vincent made an unhappy sound on James’s behalf. “There’s more money in it, but it still sucks. But we decided, with his hours and everything, I might as well take the boys to his parents’ house to have Thanksgiving there.” She paused when Vincent made another noise. Vincent glanced around in case any of his neighbors had heard him making a weird, growly sound of disappointment. They already thought he was strange enough. He hurried on to the collection of mailboxes for his side of the complex and dug out his mailbox key.  

“You are welcome there,” Judith continued, raising her voice as if she wanted to be heard over Vincent’s inner panic. “Of course you are. You know you are. They like you, Vin. I know this is short notice, and you would already have had to get up early-early to drive up to see me, and this would add time to that. But you can come up here the night before if you want. It’s still a lot of driving. But you are welcome to come.” 

A hushed footfall behind him distracted Vincent from responding that her husband’s parents, while friendly and polite, expected him to talk about things like sports, and thinking of things to say to them left him more exhausted than when he tried to jog. He turned and immediately made eye contact with his neighbor from down the hall. The guy from 223 had one hand on his bike as he walked up, and he smiled at Vincent before he stopped to dig around his backpack for the key to his own mailbox.  

His mailbox was by Vincent’s. Vincent spent a moment wondering if he should move faster to get out of his way, or slower so he wouldn’t look like he was running from him, then silently cursed when an abortive, jerky motion led to him dropping leaflets and bills to the ground and slamming his mailbox closed.  

“Vincent, you aren’t speaking.” Judith was getting even louder. The short, open hall for the mailboxes was empty except for the two of them, so the man from 223 was going to hear her every word. “Vincent, I need to know you’re okay. I want to see you, you know that. The boys want to see you too. They think you’re the best because you let them watch Night of the Living Dead on Halloween—and thank you for that, by the way. Despite the nightmares, they both have zombie fever now.” 

Vincent scraped his mail off the floor and glanced back as he straightened. The guy from 223 slid him a careful look as he smoothly opened his own mailbox. It wasn’t often Vincent was close enough to his neighbor to see his eyes up close, but they were magnificent. All of him was, but his eyes were something special, at least to Vincent. It wasn’t the color, although they were a deep, warm shade of brown that made him think of blanket forts and toasted marshmallows. What Vincent found especially appealing about them was the expression in them, the suggestion at the corners that indicated their owner was always ready to smile.  

The man was probably laughing at Vincent, but if he was, at least he tried to hide it. Vincent quickly dropped his gaze to the soft outline of his belly beneath his plaid, button-down dress shirt, which he had optimistically bought because the sales girls told him it brought out the green in his hazel eyes. Now he realized he probably had the appearance of a flushed lumberjack. No, not even that. He probably looked like a chubby chipmunk. He tried not to think about the man from 223’s rolled-up pant leg and how it revealed hard muscle from all the bike riding he did. There was a healthy glow to the man’s dark brown skin, a tantalizing hint of perspiration although the man wasn’t breathing hard. His arms were bare, as they usually were unless he cycled home in the freezing cold or the rain, and he still had on his smock from the florist where he worked. If Vincent were closer, he’d able to smell the scent of flowers that clung to him.  

“It’s not a big deal,” Vincent said at least, trying to simultaneously keep his voice low and be firm enough to interrupt Judith before her guilt took over and she ended up driving down here. They both knew Vincent wasn’t going to make a crazy long drive just to spend a few awkward hours at her in-laws. They also both knew that he had nowhere else to go unless it was to their mother’s—which wasn’t happening, for his mental well-being—or to their aunt and uncles, where he would be the overweight, perpetually single, gay cousin who couldn’t make conversation and who wrote books none of them knew how to talk about. “I’ll just stay home for the holiday. It’s fine. I’ll get some work done.” 

Vincent’s life was so, so sad. He hurried on, hoping against hope that the man from 223 wouldn’t follow and hear every pathetic word, but as he walked the edge of the small yard of winding paths and shady trees to the back stairs, he heard the clicking spin of the bike’s wheels as the other man walked behind him, leading his bike rather than speeding through the courtyard the way ruder people did.  

“Work?” He had to pull the phone from his ear at how Judith yelled. “Vincent, promise me right now you aren’t going to end up eating pumpkin ice cream and drinking.” 

“I promise,” Vincent promised dutifully. Maybe he could buy a pie instead of a carton of ice cream, even if pumpkin pie ice cream was only available this time of year and utterly delicious. “Quit making it sound so awful,” he added a moment later, for the sake of his pride. “You’d kill to relax on my couch with me with wine and ice cream.” 

“But not on Thanksgiving, Vin!” Judith huffed. “Hey,” she went on, drawing out the word, and Vincent stopped on the stairs while all kinds of alarm bells rang in his head.

“Don’t--” 

“What about Taylor?” she suggested brightly. “I know you claim you two are friends, but, come on….”  

Vincent slid a hand under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. A polite throat clearing behind him reminded him that he was blocking the stairs, and he dashed up the rest of the way, huffing and puffing a bit and fully aware he was now red-faced and obviously embarrassed. He kept himself busy searching for his door key instead of looking up to see any pity in his neighbor’s face or to stare at the muscles in the guy from 223’s arms as he hefted his bike up the stairs. Pretty and slender, the man had the kind of muscle tone that came from regular, everyday exercise instead of a gym. Vincent felt like a big, fuzzy teddy bear around him, not that he thought someone like that was interested in any bears, cuddly or otherwise.  

“We are friends,” he corrected his sister after too long of a pause, and had to clear his throat to do it. “But he’s probably doing something with Wes’s family. You know, his boyfriend?”  Apparently it was Vincent’s day to be reminded of exactly how alone he was in the world. He loved the holidays. Now he really was going to eat an entire pie and drink.  

At the top of the stairs he turned and noticed that the guy from 223 was taking his time passing him to get to his own door. Vincent isolated his door key at last, then promptly sent it and his mail once again tumbling to the floor. Why wasn’t he drunk right now was the question.

“Look, I have to go. I’ll call you on the day, okay? Tell James hi and tell the boys that,” Vincent whispered the rest in the spookiest voice he could manage, “I’m coming to get them!” 

“I hate you and I love you!” Only his sister could manage being that annoyed and protective at the same time. She made a kissing sound because Vincent wasn’t close enough for her to grab him and embarrass him with a kiss to the cheek. “You had better call me.” 

“I love you too,” Vincent told her stiffly in return, conscious of his audience all over again when he straightened and saw the man from 223 smiling at him. Judith hung up with an offended harrumph and Vincent took too long to remember he could now put his phone away.  

Of course, without his phone, he had no shield from moments like these. This was like every moment of forced conversation with a neighbor you didn’t know but wanted to stay on good terms with, combined with Vincent’s usual inability to speak around anyone he was attracted to.  

It wasn’t this guy’s fault that Vincent was kind of half in love with how he always smelled like flowers and the polite, thoughtful way he moved through the complex, sure in where he was going, but keeping an eye out for others too.  

Vincent was going to turn into that creepy, staring guy any second now. He was going to have to face his neighbor’s cheekbones, and the line of his shoulders, and the black, curled, soft-looking halo of his natural hair, and then his throat would lock. Words would vanish from his vocabulary.  

The hallway was shady despite the early afternoon sun, but not shady enough to hide Vincent’s flushed skin. He decided to end it all as quickly as he could. “Hey,” he greeted the other man simply, after licking his lips and considering maybe adding a nod of acknowledgement. He could pretend his handsome neighbor hadn’t heard him on the phone just now, laying out every detail of his lonely life.  

“Hey,” the guy from 223 greeted in him in return, his smile growing wide enough to make Vincent’s heart beat faster. Before Vincent could make his escape, the guy spoke again. “Any plans for the holiday?” he asked, and put his bike down while he waited for the answer.  

Vincent froze. “You heard me?” He was too tense for the question to come out properly, and it made him sound rude and wooden. Despite that, he was fully prepared to pretend none of it had ever happened and to let his friendly, attractive, perfect neighbor go inside to his apartment, where he and his roommate could discuss Vincent and laugh about what a loser he was. But now the smile was slowly slipping from the man’s face.  

“I mean, yes,” Vincent corrected himself, and scratched at his short beard. “I was making plans. Are you… that is to say, will you have to work? More and more people are working now. On Thanksgiving, I mean. When they shouldn’t have to.”

At least no one else was around to witness this. Vincent tensed with the urge bolt inside his apartment and clutched his key tighter.  

The guy from 223 lifted his eyebrows, but what was left of his smile stayed in place. “Soon it won’t be any kind of holiday for anyone,” he agreed slowly, and inclined his head toward Vincent. He had a voice like hot tea with sugar. “But then, considering what happened after the first Thanksgiving, maybe we should have picked a different reason to make into a national day to eat too much and avoid our families.” 

Vincent let out a small, surprised cough. “That could be every day,” he remarked, then lowered his head when the other man laughed. His cheeks were hot and he wasn’t entirely sure what his face was doing. He’d never expected he’d make the other man laugh.  

He tried to think of how to make it happen again, but when he looked up and found he was being watched expectantly, his every thought stuttered to a stop and he reverted to the panic mode always lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for a chance to take over.  

He swallowed, suddenly dry-mouthed, and flipped through his keys to hide any shaking in his hands. Then he bobbed his head in farewell and fled, there was no other word, to his door. Thankfully, he didn’t drop anything else and he had the right key, so he didn’t make any worse of an impression than the one he’d already left.

“See you around!” he called out without turning around, and quickly closed the door behind him before he could say anything else stupid. “See you around?” he repeated to himself in disbelief, and thumped his forehead against the door. All that did was push his glasses into his face and send more of his messy, mousy hair over his eyes, so he moved away to wallow in self-loathing some place where it wouldn’t damage his frames.  

He went through the motions of being a normal person in sort of shock, though the lingering adrenaline from speaking with the guy from 223 and making him laugh—and then dashing away from him like he was running for his life, made him restless. He set up his phone to charge, went to the bathroom, washed his hands, then stood in his kitchen trying to think about dinner although it was only the afternoon.

Author Bio:

R. Cooper is a somewhat absentminded, often distracted, writer of queer romance, probably most known for the Being(s) in Love series and the occasional story about witches or firefighters in love. Also known as, "Ah, yes, the one who writes the dragons."

She lives among the coastal redwoods of Northern California in a tiny house with two greedy black cats and one possible ghost. You can generally find her with either a cup of coffee next to her that she has forgotten about and has long since gone cold.

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