“This is a nice collection of stories that will keep readers engaged with eh characters and their worlds. Each author builds their own world full of holiday magic. As hot and sexy as these reads are, love is always the prize. Time and time again love proves to be the gift of the year.”
Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
As the holidays approach, Luis and Charlie are looking forward to spending time together. But after Charlie’s mother commits suicide, a whole host of problems arise to threaten Charlie and Luis’s marriage. Can the healing promise of Christmas save them?
“All I want for Solstice is my two front fangs… so I can bite you on the ass.”
Luis was singing under his breath but some of the other trackers probably heard him. Ethan would; he was a werewolf. Wind Child might; he was an elemental and who knew what kind of powers he did or didn’t have? Garrett didn’t have sharp ears, although his eyes were keen as a hawk’s so maybe he saw Luis’s mouth moving and could read his lips. As for Pierce, he probably missed everything, human that he was.
Except it was Pierce who said, “Whatever you’re muttering over there, Delgado, keep it to yourself, would you?”
“If you can’t tell what it is, why does it bother you?”
“Because everyone else is snickering and I hate being left out of the joke.”
“I’ll share,” Pierce’s tracker partner, Garrett, said. “Although it’s nothing to write home about, just kindergarten humor.” And he repeated Luis’s song, his voice rich and melodious.
Under the cover of Garrett’s singing, Ethan muttered, “I thought you’d be singing ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’.”
“Only if I actually knew my Life Dancer was going to be home. ‘Home in my dreams’ is not my idea of a happy ending to all this waiting.” His beloved, Charlie, alpha above all alphas, had been gone more often than he was home lately. “Putting out fires,” was how Charlie put it.
In addition to playing negotiator/firefighter, Charlie had been seeking… well, permission wasn’t the right word. Neither was approval. He wanted to practice shifting from human to wolf. Being a half werewolf, he’d been under the impression, as all the wolves in North America were, that only full-blooded werewolves could change to four-legged guise. And then the research came down: half wolves weren’t subject to the call of the moon, required to change when that heavenly orb was full, but they could still change at will.
With practice.
The alphas below Charlie, although they had no true say over what he did or didn’t do, had kicked up a mighty stink about their leader risking his life. Because while the change was possible, no one knew exactly how dangerous it would be.
Luis was confident that Charlie would be okay. Wasn’t shifting only dangerous for pups who weren’t strong enough because of their age or constitution?
His cell phone buzzed. Luis tended to keep it in the top drawer of his desk because the buzzing seemed loud to his psychic vampire ears. Now he drew it out and glanced at the screen casually, most of his attention still on Ethan, who was looking at him sympathetically.
Tilthos Charles: Be there in ten minutes. Meet you upstairs.
Luis almost dropped the phone.
“What is it?” asked Pierce, the nosy bastard.
Luis saw by Ethan’s face that he didn’t need to ask; Luis’s tracker partner was sharp, particularly when it came to reading those closest to him.
Luis got up, set his cell on the desk, and headed for the door.
“Trouble?” Pierce asked, getting to his feet.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Garrett said. “Let him go.”
Luis started for the stairs at a brisk walk. One did not run in SearchLight headquarters, even if said headquarters was small and considered a “backwater” by the rest of the organization.
He grinned. His Life Dancer was here, in this building, or very nearly.
Luis strode out of the stairwell and into the antechamber of the director’s office. He smiled at the secretary, the mother of one of the Tilthos Pack’s members. He addressed her in Spanish, his native language and hers. “Good morning,” he said in his mother tongue. “How are you this morning?”
She smiled. She’d been treating him like a son since moving to the United States to be closer to her daughter. “Good morning, Luis, my son. Do you need to see Agent Shalling?”
“Nope. Tilthos Charles is back.” He was careful to call his Charlie “Tilthos Charles” whenever he spoke of him, and his cell phone said his mate’s title and full name. Nicknames were verboten among the werewolves. The only reason Charlie was “Charlie” to Luis was because he’d been cursed with the nickname when he was young as a sign of disrespect, and he’d claimed it as a name of power. He was Charlie to himself and always would be. And he was Charlie to his nearest and dearest, at least the wolves who could get over themselves and their sense of propriety enough to recognize that calling him Charlie wasn’t a slur. At least not in their alpha’s mind.
“He’s not here yet,” Luis was told.
He nodded. “I know. I just wanted to be waiting when he finally arrives.”
The door to the director’s office opened and Agent Andrea Shalling stepped out. As always when she saw Luis, she looked as if she’d been sucking on a lemon. “What is the purpose of all this noise?”
Luis, cognizant of his role as Charlie’s mate and yet his lesser status as a tracker rather than a member of the leadership, asked, “Will you speak with me privately, Agent Shalling?”
She sighed. “All right.” She walked back into the director’s, into Charlie’s, office.
Luis followed. When the door was closed, he approached her and, keeping his voice low, said, “Calling another language ‘noise’ is disrespectful.”
She flushed. “I wasn’t calling Spanish noise, but your loud voice is, Agent Delgado.”
Luis could have cheerfully decked her. Instead, he announced, “Tilthos Charles will be here momentarily.”
Her eyes widened for the briefest instant. Then she said, her voice casual, “I wonder why he didn’t text or call me.”
Luis hid a smirk.
There was the muffled sound of tapping, like hard-soled shoes on tile and conversation outside the door, and then the knob turned.
Charlie, looking both tired and exultant, walked in. In his left hand was a briefcase. In his right was his white cane. He smiled at Andrea and walked to Luis. In front of God and everybody, he kissed Luis.
Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
A woman running from her past. A man with no future. A little boy with one simple Christmas wish.
Mika wants a daddy for Christmas. Deputy Kaden Hunter may be just the Christmas miracle Stevie needs… if the drug dealers and her thieving ex don’t catch up with her first.
If you want a heart-warming story for the holidays, then A Daddy for Mika is a must-read!
You’ve read it all a million times before. Down on her luck single mom, and hunky hero to the rescue. But … Stevie isn’t your typical single mom, and there’s more to Kaden than you at first realize. I thoroughly enjoyed little Mika wrapping the deputy around his finger, and Stevie doing her best to resist the sexy Kaden. My only complaint is that I wanted more… I hope we get to see more of Stevie, Mika, and Kaden in the future.
It was after two a.m. by the time Stevie scooped a sleeping Mika up out of the chair in Mel’s office and followed Janice out the back door. Her arms ached from the late mop-up and her back hurt from standing at the drive-thru register for the last nine hours, but Mika was full and happy, with a racecar in his pocket, and she had a job. Lord knew how many regulations Mel’d broken putting her right on the floor like that, but he’d written her up as a rehire, even though it had been four years. And really, nothing much had changed. She’d figured out the updated menu buttons long before the after-work crowd had thinned to a trickle.
She crossed the street to the market, devoid now of the outdoor Christmas display and the crowd. And everything else. The parking lot was utterly empty. She stood under the light, staring blankly, unable to comprehend. How could her car not be here? She knew she’d left the car here. Right here. In the front row, near the doors, under the security light. Because it was safe. And easily seen.
And now it was… gone.
It wasn’t a great car. A twelve-year-old Toyota, with over one hundred thousand miles on it, but still. It was a car. It ran. And everything she had left was in that car. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t walk across town to their apartment carrying Mika. Not at night. Not in this weather. It was far too cold. He’d get sick. She couldn’t lose that car. How could you lose a car?
Santa and the children’s train ride were packed away for the night. There were no cars in the employee lot. Everything was quiet now aside from the occasional whistle of the wind that whipped the snowflakes under her hood to sting her cheeks.
Someone had to know where her car was. Stevie pressed her face to the plate glass window. The whole front of the market was dark — even the multicolored Christmas lights outlining the plate glass panes were dark, now, hanging dead and barren like ghosts of Christmas past, but she could see white work lights in the very back. The stock crew worked overnights, when the market was closed. Maybe they parked around back.
It was a business, so there wasn’t any doorbell. She raised her free arm — the one that wasn’t holding Mika tight against her to keep him warm — and smacked her palm on the big glass door. Hard. Hard enough to rattle it a bit and made a dull thud, but nothing anyone in the back would be able to hear. She tried pounding on the door with her fist.
“Hey!” she shouted. “I need my car! Give me back my car!”
“Momma? What’s wrong? Are you OK?”
“I’m fine, baby. Everything’s going to be OK.” She pounded on the window again. “Where is my car, damn it!”
Headlights flashed off the plate glass windows, and a siren blared half a beat, then quit. Stevie turned slowly to face the inevitable. She could feel the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. This day just couldn’t get any worse.
As soon as the thought formed, Stevie knew she’d just challenged Fate to screw with her… again.
* * *
Kaden Hunter parked his patrol car right in front of the market’s main doors, crossways to the fire lane, so his lights lit up the whole storefront. The woman dropped her fist from the plate glass door and turned to face him, her whole body sagging in defeat.
Woman? Hardly more than a girl. A wisp of a thing, but a fighter. He had to hold back a smile. Her hood fell back, and a cloud of red hair as fiery as her temper whipped around her head in the wind. She might have been gorgeous — if she hadn’t looked so exhausted.
What the hell was she doing out here after two a.m. — with a kid on her hip? She didn’t look much more than twenty. Any bartender worth his weight would have carded her. And the boy looked to be three or four. Didn’t she know that little man needed to be in bed asleep?
He moved closer, cautious, his hand near his hip. Trusting the woman as an innocent was the kind of mistake that got police officers killed. He got close enough to see the tears streaming down her face before he spoke. “Deputy Hunter, Sheriff’s department. Mind telling me why you were assaulting this building, ma’am, and at this time of night?”
“My car,” she sobbed. “They took my car.”
He blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Who took your car?”
“I don’t know. I just need someone to tell me where they took it to.”
“The folks from the Market had it towed? Did you leave it here overnight?”
“No!” She looked around. “I guess they could have thought I did, but Mel has an agreement with them. Or at least he always used to. Late shift parks over here under the lights at night. I filled out an application, but the market wasn’t hiring, so we walked across the street to Debbie’s, and the drive-thru clerk walked off the job just as I was applying, so Mel hired me on the spot, even though he didn’t want to, but he was in a bind and he didn’t have to train me. Then after mop-up we locked up and all I wanted was to go home and get Mika to bed and get some sleep but my car’s gone. And everything I own is in that car.”
He was a sheriff’s deputy, not a social worker. Or a rescuer of damsels in distress. Especially not redheaded banshees who attacked buildings in the middle of the night. But he had a weak spot when it came to redheads — and children. “You were living in the car?”
“No, we’re staying at the Country Inn Efficiencies, on the other side of town, but I don’t trust the place enough to leave anything there anymore, so everything was in the car. I’m such an idiot… I thought it was safer…”
The little boy raised a hand to her cheek. “Don’t cry, Momma. Everything’s going to be OK now. The policeman’s here. He’ll find Mr. Happy.”
Kaden bit his lip. “Mr. Happy? You named the car Mr. Happy?” That sounds more like the name of some kinky sex toy, not…
The little boy shook his head. “No, silly! Mr. Happy’s my pony. He’s in the car. The car’s name is Rollo.”
“Mr. Happy’s a pony… and Rollo…” Kaden rolled his tongue around the child’s nickname to translate. “Corolla?”
Momma nodded.
The visual was just too much. “Let me get this straight. We’re looking for a missing Toyota Corolla with a pony living in the back seat?”
“Yes!” the little boy agreed, bobbing his shaggy blond locks with a waterfall effect.
“No,” Momma answered at the same time, a trace of a smile washing across her tear stained face. “Well, not exactly. Mr. Happy is a stuffed pony. He’s lying down, with his legs all folded up, but he’s so big he takes up most of the back seat. Mika likes to sleep on him.”
And anything that would get a little boy to sleep… that Kaden understood. “OK, then. Tell you what. Let’s go down to the barracks, fill out some paperwork, and we’ll do our best to find Mr. Happy and his Corolla. Soon as we’re done with the paperwork, I’ll get you back to your hotel so you two can get some sleep while we look for them.”
My marriage is a sham. I’ve already loved and lost my one and only. Making Carmella Juarez my wife was the only way to save my daughter, but I never intended to stay married. A decade has passed, ten years that I’ve kept my distance, but now it’s time to set things right and free both of us.
I never counted on her being sick and nearly dying. Didn’t count on falling for her as I nursed her back to health. But it’s the Christmas season and what better time for miracles? My heart isn’t as cold and dead as I’d once thought. Carmella has brought me back to life, and now that I’ve had a taste of the tempting woman who wears my ring, I know that I can’t ever let her go.
PreOrder for December 13th at retailers
Get it TODAY at Changeling Press
Praise for Naughty or Nice (A Bad Boy Romance)
“Naughty and Nice is a great novella where we finally met the woman Casper married to save Isabella. I wanted to punch Casper in the face for breaking this beautiful woman’s heart. It takes a near tragedy to open his eyes and see his second chance. Casper has always been elusive and reclusive. One wonderful woman changes all of that. Watch out for the next generation of Dixie Reapers they might be scarier then their dads!”
— 5 Stars from Melissa Toner, Advance Reader Review
I stared at the enormous rock on my finger and rubbed the golden band with my thumb. I’d always dreamed of getting married, but not once had I ever considered my special day consisting of marrying a man I didn’t know, leaving the only home I’d ever had, and being utterly and completely alone. My husband was a powerful man, and feared by many. He was also extremely absent in my life. Casper VanHorne had married me, flown me out of Mexico, then dumped me in some mausoleum of a house only to vanish before I’d even unpacked. It wasn’t at all what I’d anticipated. Yes, he was older than me, but I’d looked forward to my marriage. When he’d said he would take care of me, even though love wasn’t part of the deal, I’d imagined we would at least live together.
I’d barely been eighteen when he’d married me. At first, I’d thought that’s why he had left, and that he’d return before long. Then one year passed, and another. In nearly ten years, I hadn’t once seen my husband. It was lonely living here alone. Not to mention, I was twenty-eight and a damn virgin. I was starting to think I would die before ever knowing what it was like to have a man’s hands on me, to feel his cock thrusting inside me. My fevered dreams were likely far from what it would really be like if Casper ever came back and claimed me.
As another sharp stabbing pain made my eyes close and my body crumple, I wondered if my husband would return… before it was too late. I’d sworn the staff to secrecy, even the bodyguard Casper had left to watch over me. I’d grown close to the people who ran the house and protected me, even considered them my friends. When I’d first arrived, I hadn’t been able to speak any English. Now I was fluent and didn’t even use my native tongue anymore.
“Carmella,” I heard Bowen shout.
His strong arms wrapped around me, and I felt my body being lifted and carried, likely into the house. The pain had been worse lately, and coming more frequently. I had a feeling I was on borrowed time, but maybe that was for the best. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, I really didn’t, but I couldn’t help but wonder if my husband would be happier if I were gone. I knew he’d been forced into claiming me in order to save his daughter, a daughter he clearly never wanted me to meet.
I’d thought she was younger until he’d explained she was older than me. He didn’t look anywhere near old enough to have a fully grown child. There were a few lines around his eyes, but hardly a hint of gray in his hair or beard. At least, last time I’d seen him that was the case. I had no idea what he looked like now.
As the pain eased, my eyes fluttered open and a concerned Bowen was peering down at me.
“He needs to know, Carmella.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s had no interest in me all this time. The last thing I want is him showing up out of pity. I only wish…” I bit my lip, refusing to say the words.
“I know, sweet girl,” Bowen murmured.
We’d grown close over the years, but not in a romantic way. Bowen was more like an older brother than anything else. I gripped his hand as I settled back against my pillows. The frequent headaches that later turned to migraines had started a few years ago, and I’d ignored them at first. After Bowen found me passed out in the sunroom, he’d forced me to go to the doctor. It had only taken one test to discover the tumor lodged in my brain. The doctor had referred me to a neurosurgeon, who had wanted to start treatment immediately in hopes of avoiding surgery, but I’d refused. They said it appeared to be benign, but the pressure it was putting on my brain was the problem. Thankfully, my husband didn’t receive the bills directly. I didn’t know how Bowen and Mrs. Weathers had managed to pay for everything without alerting my husband that something was wrong, but they had and I was grateful.
“I can’t stand to see you like this,” he said. “Please accept the treatment, Carmella. You’re young still and have your entire life ahead of you. What you’re doing is the same as committing suicide.”
“I’m not as strong as I once thought I was,” I admitted. “I endured a lot as the illegitimate daughter of the infamous Miguel Juarez. When Casper made me his wife, I’d thought maybe I was going to have a new life. A family of my own, people who would love me. Then he ran and left me here.”
Bowen squeezed my hand. “I love you, and so does every other person in this house.”
“It’s not the same, Bowen. I’m twenty-eight and I’ve only been on a few dates. The only kiss I ever had was sloppy and gross. I’ve never… I’ve never been held by a man who loved me, never experienced passion. Is it wrong for me to want those things?” I asked.
“Of course not, Carmella. Casper would be here if he knew what you were going through. I have no doubt that he’d come and stay with you, take you to the doctor and convince you to start treatment. Don’t make me watch you die. They said if you act soon enough, surgery likely won’t be needed.”
The doctors had said that even though the tumor wasn’t cancerous it was still life-threatening. If I had something to live for, then I’d fight with everything I had in me. But what would be the point? I was lonely, so damn lonely. I didn’t have a family, and at this rate, I didn’t think I ever would. Bowen and Mrs. Weathers were my friends, but they were also paid to stay with me. I knew they cared, but it was different.
I reached up and cupped his whiskery cheek. “I’m sorry, Bowen. I just don’t have any fight left in me. There’s nothing to fight for.”
I felt his jaw tighten and watched as his eyes narrowed. I had a feeling I hadn’t heard the last from him on the matter. And he wasn’t the only one. The cook, Mrs. Weathers, was of the same mind, and so were the two maids and the butler. I knew they’d come to care about me, and I felt the same, but it wasn’t enough. I was so damn tired. The pain was debilitating on the best of days, and more and more often, it would make me lose control of the right side of my body, sometimes for an entire day.
I released Bowen and rolled to my side, letting the tears fall silently. He sighed and I heard the door click shut behind him. Left alone with my misery I wondered if maybe I was doing the wrong thing. I had no doubt they were right and Casper would be here if he knew something was wrong, but I wanted him here because he wanted to be, because he cared… not because someone tattled and said I was possibly dying. The last thing I wanted to deal with was his guilty conscience, assuming he even had a conscience. I wasn’t completely certain what he did, but if he’d had business with my father, I wasn’t certain he had a moral compass. It wasn’t just that Casper didn’t seem to want me. No one had ever wanted me. My mother hadn’t, and I’d been an embarrassment to my father who had given me to Casper as a business transaction.
Eight tales of Seasonal Magic from your favorite Changeling authors…
Epiphany by Mychael Black: Ryan’s going to show the gorgeous Elven waiter that Christmas means a whole lot more than crowds and stress.
Aliens Stole the Frozen Turkey by Ashlynn Monroe: Betty Jean never imagined she’d spend her Christmas Eve searching for three tiny alien tumblers with the sexiest ringmaster in the galaxy.
Valentine’s Ghost by Alice Gaines: Agnes claims to be Phyllis’s fairy ghostmother, and she’s going to take Phyllis to Valentines past, present, and future. Will one of the visions turn out to be a keeper?
Zarakion’s Tip by Ayla Ruse: Zarakion gives Taryn, the new delivery Elf, a tip that’ll have her scrambling to return to the drop point again and again.
Mistletoe Mistakes by Jocelyn Michel: MJ’s mistletoe missteps keep piling up, and she begins to wonder if they’re really mistletoe miracles in disguise.
Lupercalian Feast by Silvia Violet: Julianne retreats to her family’s mountain cabin to spend Valentine’s weekend alone, she finds an orgy in full swing.
A Halloween Tale by Stephanie Burke: She’s almost ready to give in to the darkness when an angel of mercy with a body made for sin comes to her aid.
Christmas Elves Are Ringing by Sean Michael: Joey’s having a tantrum of epic proportions. Can Bane work his magic in time to make sure Santa’s sleigh is full this year?
“…a feel-good, sexy, holiday romance that left this reader with a smile and a contented feeling at the end of the story. Lovely and heartfelt, Epiphany really captured the hope and joy of the season. Highly Recommended!”
— 4.25 Kisses from Gabbi, Top 2 Bottom Reviews
Praise for Aliens Stole the Frozen Turkey
“Ms. Monroe gives the reader an interplanetary union with lots of humor. Betty’s Christmas adventure gives new meaning to first contact with an alien race.”
— 4.5 Stars from Candy, Sensual Reads
Praise for Valentine’s Ghost “Valentine’s Ghost is as hot as it is funny… Packed with steamy sex, Alice Gaines writes a story that will entertain and leave you satisfied.”
Wrecking Christmas Liza Jonathan
Publication date: September 25th 2019
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance
In a town that magically grants Christmas wishes, love was the one gift they didn’t see coming.
The perfect Christmas. After the tragic loss of her mother, it’s all psychologist Kathryn Winslow wants for herself, her young son, and her grieving father. She never expects their drive to a luxury resort to end with her car dangling off the side of a mountaintop cliff. And she certainly doesn’t expect her family to be rescued by a sexy, rugged puzzle of a man like Hunter Holliday.
As owner of a collision repair and hot rod shop in the West Virginia hills, Hunter hauls motorists out of snow banks every day. But after years of sleepwalking through his life as a widower, saving a brave, beautiful woman like Kathryn wakes him up, in every possible way.
But before they can make it out of a freak snowstorm, they’re stranded in Christmas Pass, a funny little sugar-frosted mountain town that can’t be found on any map. Now somehow, they’re trapped in an enchanted village that grants Christmas wishes, and tangled in a red-hot attraction they can’t resist. Yet, even in a place that’s populating itself around their craziest whims and deepest desires, they can’t run from the crippling regrets in their past—or the shocking new revelations to come. But the love they need so badly is there for the taking…if only they have the courage to wish…
Write what you know. Isn’t that what they always say?
Though I currently live in the flat, flat lands of Indiana, I’ve spent most of my life in West Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee. As I have found out, you can take the girl out of Appalachia, but you can’t take the Appalachia out of the girl.
So now, I write sexy, angsty paranormal romances dedicated to the locations, legends and lore from the thirteen Appalachian states. I find the enchantment of home inspires me to tell tales.
When I’m not haunting the house at all hours writing, I have another life as a PR/marketing writer, wife to my long-time husband, and a mother to my two sons, who are rapidly fleeing the nest. Come sit with me for a spell. I’ve got some stories to tell you…
“For a few days. A few weeks, even. But then it ends. Again. Badly. Always does. We’re like shooting stars. Speeding through the night sky until they collide. A shower of sparks and we’re gone again.”
“But it’s glorious while it lasts.” He kissed my neck, just below my ear, and I shivered in his arms. “And one of these days we’re going to find a way to make it work.”
“Liar,” I shot back. But it was Christmas. And I wanted to believe…
The cross-country flight to Brasilia International Airport had taken less time than the trek down the mountainside, but it was still after 9:00 pm when we checked into the Windsor Plaza Brasilia Hotel. But it was Brazil. And apparently we had reservations. Or I did. I had to sign a form adding Mika to my room. The hotel restaurant was still open, and the concierge assured us room service was always available. “Which is a good thing,” I told Mika. “I’ve missed hot running water. I want a shower.”
Mika sniffed and wriggled his nose. “I can’t argue with that.”
I swatted at him, but he ducked behind the bellhop, who kept his gaze trained on the elevator, and managed to conceal any hint of surprise at our road weary condition behind a smile that earned him a large tip.
My long-sleeve shirt and jeans and socks — all intended to help make me look less like mosquito bait — made their way into the trash the moment the door closed behind the bellhop. This was Brazil. I was confident the concierge could have a new wardrobe sent up for me as easily as dinner and coffee.
Hot running water was one of the few things I’d truly missed in the last four months we’d spent in the Andes. The hotel’s amenities included scented soaps and shampoo that might turn me back into a human given enough time and scrubbing. I just stood under the spray for several minutes, soaking in the return to civilization.
Despite the data I’d lost, the trip hadn’t been a total loss. Mika was right. I had backed up most of my data — satellite Internet was a glorious thing — and I’d pocketed not only my thumb drive but the wallet-size external hard drive as well. And what I’d learned could not be erased from my head. Including the truths about myself and what I wanted, needed from life. And Mika was one of those things. I leaned into the spray, almost asleep from the sheer relief as the steam penetrated my knotted muscles.
“Mind if I join you?”
Mika’s voice was almost a surprise — I hadn’t heard him cross the tile floor, and I’d already steamed up the large bathroom enough to not notice the temperature change when he slid the glass door open. “You’re always welcome.” I’d expected him, after all. Had allowed myself to admit that despite the rocky road behind us — and likely ahead of us — there would always be a place for Mika in my heart.
“You look like you could use some help.”
Mika didn’t ask what I wanted. He always knew. He could read my body like a flight plan. He started with the shampoo, running his fingers through the short strands of my hair until the water washed clear, then did it again, massaging my scalp, and then again. The soap was a more leisurely trip, exploring every crevice and crease where dirt could hide, scrubbing with the soap bar wrapped in the washcloth, then, once he was satisfied that the worst of the grime was gone, kneading and massaging my knotted muscles. “You’re a mess,” he muttered, working at the knots next to my spine that refused to let go.
“This was easier a decade ago,” I agreed. “When did canvas cots and wooden chairs get so damn hard?”
“We all grow up eventually, Silvi. Our bodies do, even if our minds think we’re still teenagers.”
“Not you. You’re always the same. And you’re always there to rescue me. Even from myself.”
“Not still mad at me?”
“Usually.” I turned to pull him under the spray, running my fingers through hair that was only slightly shorter than my own, then stretching up to press a kiss to his mouth. His lips opened against mine, and his tongue swept through to taste and to touch, exploring and stroking and pulling the wildness from me.
Shelby must be insane. What else would have led her to start an online publishing company? Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her long-time friend and business partner, Bill, her husband of 30 plus years. Perhaps the insanity is contagious.
Shelby loves writing off-beat tales that defy as many rules as possible. She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex. She’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal from mixing with her kink. Fortunately for Shelby, electronic publishing has opened many new doors for cross-genre authors and artists.
Thank you for inviting me to your blog with new release, MM romance, Snowflake Wine.
The story is contemporary gay romance with an edge of fantasy, especially written as a sweet but sexy Christmas treat.
Jamie Snow and Nathan Bloom, my characters are as usual, dear to me.
Jamie has battled all his life with his strange, fantastic gift. His is the character that brings the element of fantasy to the story. The inspiration behind the creation of this character came, weirdly enough, in the summer, when I visited a ruined abbey. In the grounds were flowering shrubs that I’d never encountered before. From a distance, the flowers looked like frost, and as I drew close, into my mind came the idea of Jamie, a sprite who loves cold, ice, frost, and to comfort himself in the warm weather, he decorated the shrubs with frost flowers.
Nathan Bloom is the perfect partner for Jamie—gorgeous, calm, loving and open. He’s looking for love. He’s onto Jamie’s gifts long before he lets Jamie know it. This is a love story—romantic, sexy, hopeful.
Blurb
Hunky Nathan Bloom works late for the company putting up the town Christmas lights and decorations.
Gorgeous, enigmatic, Jamie Snow works late forecasting the weather from his desk in the meteorology office.
Nathan sighs over the prospect of a holiday season with no one to love.
Jamie wonders if he’ll ever find a man to love who will accept his mysterious origins and talents.
One cold night, as Nathan finishes hoisting the wreath lights up the building where Jamie works, they meet.
The brilliant festive lights aren’t the only things to sparkle as the two men connect on a deep level.
Be delighted by a delicious, contemporary, gay romance with an edge of fantasy this season.
On launch special price, all Amazon sites until Dec 14
Read a teaser:
Jamie Snow sat alongside Nathan. He glanced across at the man who stirred his frosty heart. He’s so attractive. Jamie hadn’t loved in a long time. He felt more than ready for it—longed for it on lonely nights. He wasn’t about to give up on the chance that this man might want a lover, that he was gay wasn’t in question. No straight guy looked the way he had at another man.
“My name’s Jamie, Jamie Snow.” He softened his voice as he spoke. The man beside him inspired tenderness and he felt a little prick of guilt. Using the weather to flirt with him had been inspired but maybe a little naughty.
Nathan drove the truck into a wide car lot that Jamie hadn’t known existed behind the furniture store on the end of the main street. “Here we are. The store allows us to leave the bigger rigs here every year. Jamie Snow—that’s an interesting name for a meteorologist—mine’s Nathan Bloom.”
Jamie’s smile infused his tone. “Yes. People tease me sometimes at work, they’ll know we’ve forecast it and as I walk by they’ll say, ‘here comes the snow,’ but I don’t mind. I like this name.”
“You’ve had others?” Nathan asked with a laugh.
Jamie didn’t want to reply. He waited. I won’t be lying to this lovely guy if I don’t answer.
Nathan turned off the truck engine and twisted to talk to Jamie. “It’s a cool name. Where do you live?”
It appeared he’d forgotten his question.
Happiness trickled into Jamie’s soul that the attractive man beside him liked his name, and used the word, cool. Eagerly, Jamie told Nathan his address on the outskirts of the town.
Nathan grinned, his eyes reflecting Jamie’s emotion. “I know it well. I live a couple of streets south from there.”
Copyright Elodie Parkes, 2018, Encompass Ink
About Elodie
I’m a writer who is in love with happy endings, currently based in southern UK. I write for Evernight Publishing, Siren, Hot Ink Press, Encompass Ink, and eXtasy Books.
I love music, art, flowers, trees, the ocean. I work with antiques by day and words by night. Like a vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only broken by an occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my home, and I write.
“Seriously, Laird, you’ve lost your mind,” Laiyde said. His sister didn’t pull any punches, even with him being the head of sleigh engineering. “You do remember eight tiny reindeer, right? There’s no way Santa’s team can pull the sleigh with the extra weight you’re proposing.”
“He’s not getting any younger, Lai. Santa needs protection. This little cockpit is nothing. Hell, if Rudolph would just go full time…”
“Rudolph retired to Finland after you created that LED beam, remember?” She rolled her eyes, dark brown like his. They were twins, but thankfully she couldn’t grow a full beard like he did. That would be awkward.
“Right.” Shit. “Well, there are always a hundred young bucks competing at the reindeer games. Just get Sparkle to add two more to the team.”
His sister threw up her hands. “Just add two more. Like it’s that easy! Santa has used the same harness since the fifties! One extra attachment was added then for Rudolph. You can’t just change the whole of Christmas history every year!”
“Hey, I just want him to be safe.” Santa had slipped and damned near fallen off a house last year pulling a package out of the back of the sleigh. Laird thought about the implications of losing Santa and wanted to throw up.
“We all do. You’re going to have to redesign.” She patted his arm. “Talk to the magic team. See if they can make a bubble or something.”
“I did. They can’t make my dome lose any weight, even though they say they can equalize the pressure and keep flight horizontal without loss of velocity and altitude. Best they can do.”
“Well, that’s something.” She smiled. “I’ll make hot chocolate.”
“With star marshmallows?” Laird asked.
“Anything for you, Bro.”
“Cool. Give me an hour to go talk to Sparkle and you’re on.”
She rolled her eyes again, but didn’t say anything. She just waved him off.
Laird pulled his parka on over his flannel shirt and snow pants. While Christmas Elves were well suited to the cold climate, this time of year was brutal. The toymakers and cobblers and all never went outside right now. They had long breezeways between their dorms and the workshops.
The rest of them had to brave freezing their balls off.
He trundled down to the reindeer barns, where he knew Captain Sparkle would be putting the chosen eight through their paces. The pulling reindeer had to bulk up as much as possible between now and the big day, and they all had to learn emergency procedures and weather contingencies.
He stomped snow off his boots once he got to the barn offices, the wind howling behind him when he slammed the door shut.
“Shit, it’s colder than a well-digger’s ass out there,” he mumbled.
“I imagine that’s colder than a witch’s tit.”
Laird whirled around to face the guy who’d just walked up behind him. Then he grinned. “Depends on if it’s in a brass bra.”
“Mmm. What about a sleigh reindeer in a snowstorm’s balls?” the guy asked.
“Nothing is colder than that,” Laird said. “There’s too much ether to fight.”
“I bet. I’m Bruiser, and I’m on desk duty today. What can I do for you?”
“New guy, huh?” He smiled. New guys were few and far between. Bruiser was an amazing newcomer, taller than Elves, even, and contrary to myth, Santa’s Elves were way more Tolkien than Oompa Loompa. This guy was all leg, lanky and surprisingly tanned, with a shock of dark hair. Dark brown eyes shone with humor.
Princess Jami of Mediria is determined to give her adopted sister Brianna of Earth a Christmas to remember, even though she’d never heard of the holiday before Brianna described it so longingly. Descending on the snowy estate of the Alalakan clan, Jami plans the surprise celebration.
Alalakan don al’ Marcadras wants nothing more than to be left alone. Years ago he foiled a plot by the woman he loved to murder Mediria’s king. Gravely injured and scarred for life, he retreated to this isolated estate.
Marc’s desire for peace and quiet is pitted against Jami’s insistence on duplicating Earth’s festivities. Nothing Marc can say or do will distract her, not even seducing her. The hot sex they share only further inspires her to make this the best Alalakan Christmas party ever.
Unfortunately, not everyone on the estate gets in the holiday spirit. Some see a Medirian princess’s presence as an opportunity of another sort… The Medirian royal family will pay a great deal of money to get their princess back.
Looking up, Alalakan don al’ Marcadras, rolled his shoulders. He’d spent the last four hours after dinner hunched over the workstation in his study trying to finish the estate’s yearly reports. After flexing his fingers, he accepted the tablet the housekeeper handed to him, tapped in his code, and perused the message. Then he read it more carefully. Muttering some obscenities under his breath, he looked at the woman standing before him. “We’re going to have guests.”
“At this time of the year? Who?”
“Bandalardrac…”
Before he could finish, she smiled broadly and interrupted him. “Ban’s coming? That’s wonderful.”
Setting the tablet on his desk, he said, “Control your libido, Irinia. A Medirian princess is coming with him, which means at least one Aradab, maybe more, will be coming too as her body guard.”
“A Medirian princess? Ban didn’t get married, did he?”
Marc shook his head. What was it that made almost every woman in the galaxy want to jump in bed with his second cousin? “No, Ban is not married. He says it’s one of his cousins.”
“Which one of his many aunts and uncles is the parent? What does she want here? No one ever visits at this time of the year. Everyone is exhausted from the crafters’ trade show. The chalet hasn’t been properly cleaned in a month, and I don’t know if any of the rooms are suitable for guests.” The woman straightened, crossed her arms over her breasts. “I am not going to wait hand and foot on a spoiled princess who was bored at home and decided to have an adventure in some Drakian mountains.”
Marc grimaced. “I don’t know which aunt or uncle her father or mother is, and I don’t expect you to cater to her beyond what would normally be expected of you, Irinia. You have enough to do in this monstrosity of a house as it is. The princess will just have to amuse herself. If she’s not happy with the accommodations, she can just go home again.” He did raise an eyebrow. “Though I know you well enough to know if there’s one speck of dust in any of the rooms right now, you’d have the servants working nonstop until everything was clean enough to eat off of.”
The housekeeper ignored his last comment. “Why would Ban even bring her here?”
“You know Ban. Once he gets something into his head… He is very fond of all his younger cousins. What’s more, he did get the okay from Rodane so it’s not like he’s showing up with her unannounced or without the family’s knowledge.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
Another grimace. “I don’t want a spoiled child under my feet any more than you do, but it doesn’t look as if we have any choice in the matter.”
“Is she a child?”
“I’m guessing between twelve and fourteen. Can you imagine a grown Medirian woman wanting to come here at this time of the year?” Marc said with a shrug.
She pursed her lips. “You’re right. With the weather getting colder, she’ll have to stay almost exclusively in the chalet. The water in the lake is freezing so she won’t want to swim there. I think I’ll turn down the temperature for the indoor pool’s heating system. If it’s cold enough, she’ll want to head back to Mediria’s tropical waters as soon as she can.”
“You lower the temperature too much, and you’ll kill the fish. Then you’ll not only have to deal with me but also with my great-aunt. Jenetta will not be happy if her prized opodia fish die.”
Marc could see Irinia weighing the prospect of Jenetta’s anger against any inconvenience brought about by the princess. He knew the moment she decided Jenetta’s ire would be far worse than dealing with one Medirian princess. “When are they arriving?” she asked in a disgruntled voice.
A loud humming noise from outside answered for him. “Sounds like they’re here now. Leave it to Ban to arrive this late at night,” he said. Stepping around his desk, he grasped Irinia’s upper arm before she could exit the room. “I expect you to treat the princess with the utmost respect. The ties between the Hardan and Alalakan families are strong and numerous. I don’t want you to ignore your regular duties because the princess demands something unusual or bizarre, but I will not have any reasonable requests denied. Are we clear about that?”
“Marc! When have I ever been unreasonable?”
“More times than I can count, hence the warning. Besides, you don’t want to disappoint Ban, do you? For all we know, this is his favorite cousin.”
Releasing her arm, Marc chuckled to himself as he strode out the door and headed for the chalet’s landing pad. Although normally even-tempered and genial, Irinia could be a real harridan when she wanted. Invoking Ban’s name would make her think before she did anything the princess would find too infuriating.
On the landing pad, the door of the shuttlecraft was just rising when Marc and the housekeeper arrived. Once the door was braced, the stairway extended. Bandalardrac stuck his head out of the doorway, grinned, and made his way down to the platform.
“Marc! It’s good to see you.” Pivoting away from his Alalakan cousin, he grabbed the housekeeper in an exuberant hug. “Irinia, are you still here? I thought you’d have married some complacent merchant by now and gone off to rule his household!”
“As if I wanted to marry again — unless you’re asking. Besides, I have yet to meet the merchant who can handle me!”
Laughing, Ban set her on her feet and turned back to the hovercraft. “Jami? Are you coming? You’re the one who was in such a hurry to get here!”
“I’m coming!” a musical voice shouted. “I needed to get my coat. That’s a cold wind howling through the hatchway!”
Marc smiled to himself. If she was already complaining about the cold, she wouldn’t last here too long. Then things would get back to normal. Pasting a smile on his face, he waited for whom he was sure would be a prepubescent girl. He wasn’t prepared for the vision wearing a coat that fit like a second skin over her curvaceous body. A sharp gust of wind blew her short, dark-green hair into her face. Combing it away with her left hand, she bit her full, lower lip as she grabbed the hand railing. Hurrying down the steps, she halted in front of him. This was no child. This was a very attractive woman.
Marc cursed silently to himself. Just what he needed, another sexy Medirian woman confounding his life.
“Jami, my cousin Alalakan don al’ Marcadras, manager of the chalet and its grounds, and the housekeeper Sililurtria dem al’ Irinia. Marc, Irinia, this is Jami…”
“Her Royal Highness Jamilinlalissa, Princess Hardan,” intoned a harsh voice from the top of the stairway.
As Irinia gasped, Marc stiffened. Jamilinlalissa? If his memory was correct, she was one of the king’s daughters! He’d expected the daughter of one of Findal’s many brothers or sisters, not someone who could possibly inherit the throne. Then, all thoughts of the princess fled his mind as he focused on the Aradab descending the stairs. Kahn? The Master of the Medirian School of Assassins. What in the seven hells did he want here? Marc had made it plain to all of the instructors that he was through with his training. He certainly wasn’t the first person to have left the school.
Ignoring the cold wind, his arms crossed over his bare chest, the Aradab halted and stared at Marc as if to issue a silent challenge.
Before he could stop himself, Marc clenched his fists. He hadn’t seen Kahn since he’d left Mediria seven years ago, and he wasn’t happy to see him now.
Irinia’s sudden cough shook Marc from his dark thoughts, and he hastily gathered his composure. “Irinia, why don’t you go in and get something warm for our guests to drink?” That should give her time to regain her poise. Entertaining the daughter of a king was not the norm here.
The housekeeper hurried back into the chalet.
Marc watched her go. Now, all he had to do was control his own reactions to his guests.
Ban clicked a button on the control he held in his hand. After the stairs folded neatly back into the hovercraft, the door slowly lowered into place. “Is there anybody to bring in the luggage, or will we have to tote it ourselves?” Ban asked in a cheerful voice.
ABOUT JUDY MAYS
Sexier than a Hollywood starlet! More buxom than a Vegas showgirl. Able to split infinitives with a single key stroke!
Look! At the computer!
It’s a programmer!
It’s a computer nerd!
No! It’s – Judy Mays!
Yes, Judy Mays – erotic romance writer extraordinaire who came to Earth with powers and abilities beyond those of mortal authors. Judy Mays! Who can write wild, wanton werewolves; adorable, alluring aliens; vexing, vivacious vamps; hot, haunting historicals; compelling, combustible contemporaries; sexy, surprising suspense, and cagey, cuddly kitty cats; and, who, disguised as a mild-mannered tenth grade English teacher in a small public high school, fights a never ending battle for Hot Hunks, Hip Heroines, and Salacious Sensuality!
