Two Bears For Christmas by Tianna Xander-They Enter The Local Pub For A Drink See The Woman Of Their Dreams #Shifters #RomanceNovel #Menage

When a coworker attacks her at an office Christmas party, Tabitha thinks it’s the end, but it’s really just the beginning.

Blurb

Tabitha’s convinced she should have stayed home. She’s doubly convinced of that when her boss attacks her in the restroom at the office Christmas party. She finds there really are gentlemen in the world when two handsome Scots come to her rescue.

When Roddy and Ewan enter the local pub for a drink, they don’t expect to see the woman of their dreams. Saving her from a self-proclaimed interoffice lothario is only the icing on the cake.

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Buy Link 

Extasy Books-http://www.extasybooks.com/holiday/two-bears-for-christmas/

Amazon- https://www.amazon.com/Two-Bears-Christmas-Highland-Book-ebook/dp/B00HGXFW52

Christmas at the Castle by Jenny Kane - He Was Hottest Guy But He Didn't Know She Existed, That All Changed- #MF #contemporary #romance #christmas

Christmas at the Castle is a seasonal treat from Jenny Kane, featuring much-loved characters from her bestselling novel Another Cup of Coffee. 


Blurb

When hotshot businesswoman Alice Warren is asked to organise a literary festival at beautiful Crathes Castle in Scotland, her ‘work mode’ persona means she can’t say no – even though the person asking is her ex, Cameron Hunter.

Alice broke Cameron’s heart and feels she owes him one – but her best friend Charlie isn’t going to like it. Charlie – aka famous author Erin Spence – is happy to help Alice with the festival…until she finds out that Cameron’s involved! Charlie suffered a bad case of unrequited love for Cameron, and she can’t bear the thought of seeing him again.

Caught between her own insecurities and loyalty to her friend, Charlie gets fellow author Kit Lambert to take her place. Agreeing to leave her London comfort zone – and her favourite corner in Pickwicks Café – Kit steps in. She quickly finds herself not just helping out, but hosting a major literary event, while also trying to play fairy godmother – a task which quickly gets very complicated indeed...


Extract

Charlie pushed open the door of The Deeside Bookshop.

Instead of being greeted by John, she was surprised to see a much younger man behind the counter. Having never known the shop without John in it, Charlie was immediately concerned. ‘Um, hello, I wondered if I could speak to John, is he OK?’

‘He’s very OK, thank you. Soaking up the sun in New Zealand in fact.’

‘Oh.’ Not sure what to do, Charlie decided she’d dive straight in anyway. If John trusted this man to run the shop in his absence, then he must be alright. ‘Could I have a quick chat about the literary festival at Crathes? I know Ms Warren has already approached the shop, but I…’

The man, who Charlie guessed must be in his late thirties, ran an exasperated hand through his short hair. ‘I already told your colleague I can’t help. What Ms Warren is asking of me is not cost-effective. Although I wish you luck with the festival, the tactic of sending her prettier colleague to get me to change my mind is not going to work!’

Prettier colleague? Charlie felt thrown. No one ever thought she was prettier than Alice.

‘I assure you no… tactics are in play. I’m only helping out today because I’m a friend of one of the other organisers, and I have a more sensible and, I think, more realistic proposition for you than Alice did. I will tell you about it if you would like to hear it; if not, I’ll leave you in peace to stare around your customer-free shop!’

Rather taken aback by the edge to her tone, the tension in Charlie’s shoulders unknotted a little as, to her amazement, the man began to laugh.

Placing the books he’d been holding on the counter he said, ‘I’m sorry, forgive me for being abrupt. My name is Gervase Potter; I bought John out a few weeks ago. This little empire is now mine.’
Tilting his head to one side, giving Charlie the impression he was enjoying the view, he added, ‘I would very much like to hear your proposal. How about we discuss it tonight over a drink at Scott Skinner’s? I haven’t made it there yet, and I hear it’s a nice pub.’

With her brain privately grappling with the concept of being asked out for a drink by a handsome man who liked books, Charlie replied, ‘It is nice. I often go to Skinner’s to write when I need a change of scene from my desk at home. Oh, I’m Charlie, by the way. Charlie Davies.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Charlie. So, you write?’

‘Yes.’ Charlie pointed to the bookshelves, ‘I’m over there somewhere.’

‘You are? Who are you, then? I mean, who else are you?’

‘Erin Spence.’

‘The Unbrave Heart Erin Spence?’

Charlie’s pulse started to beat faster. He didn’t immediately connect me with The Love-Blind Boy. ‘Yes. Yes that was my first novel.’

‘I love that book.’

‘You’ve read it?’ Charlie was shocked. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’d be into women’s fiction.’

‘I’m not as a rule, but my ex-girlfriend had the audiobook and we played it on a long journey once or twice. I enjoyed it. You have a very perceptive view of the male side of things.’

‘Really?’ Charlie could feel herself blushing, ‘Thanks. It’s kind of you to say so.’

‘Not at all. That drink tonight, then? Eight o’clock? With a meal as well, maybe?’

‘To talk about my idea for the festival?’

‘I’m making no promises, because I think I’d rather talk about you.’

Charlie’s head buzzed with contradictory thoughts. Had she been right to agree to go out with Gervase? Only this morning she’d been thinking about how she felt about Cameron being back, and now she was going on a date with someone else. A part of her knew she’d only said yes in the hope that Alice and Cameron might see them. But so what if they did? Cameron isn’t going to be jealous, and I don’t want him anymore anyway. And Alice wouldn’t notice in her current mode if I walked around naked with a pineapple on my head.

A new thought entered Charlie’s head. Was there any point in going out with another man until Alice had gone home? Gervase would only have to see them standing next to each other, and it wouldn’t be her that he wanted to take for dinner anymore.

Suddenly, Charlie stopped moving. She knew she was being ridiculous, but somehow the thought of how Alice was always going to be there to eclipse her wouldn’t shift...

Bio

Jenny Kane is the author the contemporary romance Christmas at the Castle (Accent Press, 2015), the bestselling novel Abi’s House (Accent Press, 2015), the modern/medieval time slip novel Romancing Robin Hood (Accent Press, 2014), the bestselling novel Another Cup of Coffee (Accent Press, 2013), and its novella length sequels Another Cup of Christmas (Accent Press, 2013), and Christmas in the Cotswolds (Accent, 2014).

Jenny’s fourth full length romance novel, Another Glass of Champagne, will be published in 2016.
Jenny is also the author of quirky children’s picture books There’s a Cow in the Flat (Hushpuppy, 2014) and Ben’s Biscuit Tin (Coming soon from Hushpuppy)

Keep your eye on Jenny’s blog at www.jennykane.co.uk for more details.
Twitter- @JennyKaneAuthor
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/JennyKaneRomance 
Jenny also writes erotica as Kay Jaybee.

Muffins and Mistletoe by Deborah Dennis

Welcome to Starlight Hills! Mountain views, small town charm, and one little bake shop, where romance is always on the menu. 

Blurb

Christmas is the best time of year to be in love in Starlight Hills. Cold nights perfect for snuggling, plenty of mistletoe to be caught kissing under, and an abundance of gingerbread muffins for sharing beneath the stars. But when Corinne Mackenzie turns down a proposal from the man she loves at the Thanksgiving table, it could be the worst time of year instead. 

Convinced the only way to fix the biggest mistake of her life is to enlist the help of the town's resident matchmaker, she's got a plan to make this the best Christmas ever. 

After his proposal is rejected in front of family and friends, Jimmy Crane knows his only chance of surviving the holiday is to avoid the woman who stomped on his heart. The only obstacle to his plan is his matchmaking mother and Corinne's knack for getting him under the mistletoe.


Excerpt

Corinne stood under the fresh pine roping that hung from the arched entrance to the main hall and took a deep, lung-filling breath. Fragrant real trees stood tall at each side of the arch, glittering with tinsel, white lights and red glass ornaments. She pulled off her gloves with a relieved sigh, letting the scents of Christmas surround her. She was determined not to give in to her personal despair and allow it to squelch a festive holiday mood. After all, she had a plan.

Mrs. Crane's blue eyes danced with merriment as she held out the signature yellow bag and gave it a shake. "Good morning, Corinne. Fresh from the oven—I know how you love them warm."

"You do know my weakness, Mrs. Crane." Corinne tried not to let her mind race ahead and think what a wonderful mother-in-law Bitty Crane would be. Then Corinne thought about her waistline and decided she might be better off without the permanent supply of the woman's irresistible carbs.

It was hard enough walking by the Itty Bitty Bake Shop every day on her way to work with the tantalizing smells of muffins wafting through the air—having it in the family would be way too tempting.

On the other hand, maybe it was all those carbs that gave Bitty her boundless energy. Always bobbing here and there, dark brown curls framing her cherubic face, her cornflower blue eyes filled with mischief and love. There were no frown lines on her sixty-year-old face, only laugh lines that reached up to her eyes when she winked.

Everyone agreed the annual Preservation Society Holiday Gala would never be the most talked-about event of the season if it weren't for Bitty Crane and her exuberant dedication.

Corinne looked away from the woman whose eyes reminded her so much of Jimmy's. While Jimmy had inherited his six-foot-one height from his father, there was no doubt those dancing, all-seeing, soul-searching eyes came from his mother.

She let Bitty take her by the elbow and lead her into the ballroom. "There's been a slight change in setup plans and so much to do before the gala tomorrow night."

"That's why I'm here," Corinne said with a sigh, trying not to smile as her little white lie slipped easily past her lips. She popped a bite-sized morsel of gingerbread heaven into her mouth while she followed Bitty to the stage. It was difficult to keep her mind off Jimmy when she was so close to his mother, and her mind raced in search of a way to get her to intervene.

Surely his mother had the power to make him listen, didn't she?

Corinne pulled another piece of muffin from the bag while Bitty pointed to her left. "The rest of the ladies will be here any minute, but why don't you get started moving these tables off to the side to make room for the—oh, good, Jimmy, you're here!"

Corinne turned her head so quickly it felt like her neck snapped.

She blinked and he was there, every tall, dark and sexy inch of him, and all she could do was stare. Her inability to speak was thankfully masked by her mouth being stuffed with gingerbread.

Though this was exactly the scenario she'd hoped for, she was grateful her mouth was full of muffin since she couldn't find the right words anyway. It wasn't every day one groveled for forgiveness.

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Buy Link--  http://www.amazon.com/Muffins-Mistletoe-Starlight-Holiday-ebook/dp/B00GAMRVV8/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1383171217&sr=1-1&keywords=muffins+%26+Mistletoe

Midwinter Night's Dream by Whitley Gray

 

BLURB:

Two years ago, Joe Blake lost his secret lover, firefighter Bryce Marshall. Grieving, Joe left his job as a fireman and paramedic to become the spokes model for undergarment company Escalade. 

They lured him into the limelight and drove him deeper into the closet. Modeling doesn't provide fulfillment; Joe wants privacy and to feel useful again. A holiday at his mountain cabin outside Denver is the perfect escape. The last thing he anticipated, or wanted, was sharing his retreat with another man.


Excerpt

Joe squinted into the whirling flakes. A bad night to be out driving. He’d passed half a dozen cars off the highway before he’d gotten to the rural route that led to the cabin. Pine trees formed a dark wall beyond the road when the snow let up long enough to see. The windshield wipers could barely keep up, and with the drifting, the Jeep might get high centered. And that would be a disaster. At least he had enough food and supplies to last ten days if he got stuck inside the vehicle. It’d be unpleasant—not to mention a hell of a way to spend Christmas—but he’d survive. 

The headlights caught on the reflector post marking the drive, and Joe downshifted. Something was glowing by the side of the road, next to a clump of bushes. Not normal. There were no lights without generator power, and the only generator for miles was his. In any case, no one had ever installed a lamp down there. What would be the point? 

The Jeep rolled to a stop. Joe hoped to hell he didn’t get stuck. He yanked on a heavy watch cap and opened the door. Icy air intruded, filling the Jeep with winter, and he hopped down and slammed the door. The wind whistled through the trees and pushed the snow on the ground. It’d take a couple of seconds to check this out. He waded around the front of the Jeep through the snow. The headlights shone on the oddity, and the hair on his neck stood at attention. A flashlight, half-buried in snow. Next to the light was a black lace-up boot. 

Aw, fuck. Not on Christmas. Why are you out here? 

Joe knelt next to the figure partially covered in snow and began to dig. A pant leg, then the edge of an army jacket. A hand in a thin rag wool glove. And finally, a face. A young face, motionless, ice crusted over the eyes, nose, and mouth. The guy looked…dead. Joe closed his eyes. Golden hair sticking out of a fire helmet, and soot. 

My God… 

Stop. He opened his eyes and ran his gloved fingertips along the man’s cheek. A knit cap. Ice, not soot. The pale face in front of him was a stranger’s. It’s the holiday, the location preying on you. Shake it off. 

Joe shoved his hand down the man’s collar and found a slow and weak carotid pulse. The skin was warmer beneath the clothing. Letting out a steaming breath, Joe sat back on his heels. Not dead, thank God, but unconscious, hypothermic, and possibly frostbitten. 

Salvageable. 

Instinct kicked in. He had the knowledge and skills to save this guy. The snow pummeled him as Joe began scooping the drift off the man. It took a couple of minutes to free the motionless victim from the grip of the blizzard. Joe squatted and threw the man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. The guy couldn’t have gone over one hundred sixty pounds, and lay limp and lifeless. Joe headed for the Jeep, the snow squeaking beneath his boots. 

Fighting the wind, Joe opened the back door of the Cherokee, settled the ice man supine on the bench seat, and buckled him in. With the Jeep in gear, Joe headed up the drive. Monstrous drifts threatened to block the way, and he maneuvered around them, avoiding the rough on the sides of the road. If the storm kept up, he’d be snowed in by midnight. Snowed in and not alone. 

Merry Christmas and welcome home. 

* * * * 

Heat surrounded Errol’s body. The surface beneath him was soft, and he couldn’t perceive any light through his eyelids. His hands and feet hurt. He was exhausted and achy. Couldn’t open his eyes. A little more rest… 

Something ticked out a muted rhythm, and every click made his head throb. During his nap someone had taken a ball-peen hammer to his head, and his tongue had become glued to the roof of his mouth. Felt like the hangover from hell. 

Water. Water would be good. A hint of wood smoke filled Errol’s nose, mixed with a spicier smell—evergreen and clove, like Christmas. He must be dreaming. 

The featherweight web of sleep persisted, and he rubbed at his eyes and opened them a crack. Wait a minute. Where was he? 

Well, first of all, warm and cozy in an enormous bed. Not his; not by a long shot. The thing was heaped with sleeping bags and quilts, making the covers weighty. He squinted and peeked under the covers. Naked. The ache behind his eyes intensified as he absorbed his lack of clothing. Yikes. 

A dozen feet away, there was a fireplace made of river rock, flanked by bookcases. Banked embers glowed in the hearth, outlining walls made of logs in faint rosy light. A clock ticked on the mantel, the source of the tapping irritating his ears. A sweep of muted plaid framed the dark windows, and snow hissed against the panes, seeking entry. Okay, naked, in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place. What the— 

Something rustled next to him, and he rolled over. A tuft of dark curls stuck up from the covers. Nothing else of his bedmate showed. Holy shit, make that naked next to an unfamiliar body. 

Oh, no. No, no, no. He couldn’t remember doing the sing-o-gram, but maybe he’d had a holiday drink and ended up sleeping with someone at the client’s house? Judging by the way his head felt, he had the mother of all hangovers, and if alcohol had been involved, who knew? Man, he’d be in such deep shit. Pour Vous had a strict no-sex-with-the-clients policy. If he’d broken the rules, Smitty would roast his chestnuts over an open fire and cut him loose. Without a job, he’d be out on the street in a week. He shivered. 

Smitty didn’t have to know. 

With a deep sigh, the bedmate rolled over, one arm pushing the covers down to the waist. Errol’s eyes widened. Whoops. Naked, muscular, and male. Dark curly hair, a shadow of beard covering his jaw, and a face like a model. Errol had never really understood the meaning of chiseled features before now, but this met the definition. Yowza. 

Wait a minute. Smitty had said the telegram recipient was a blond woman. This was very definitely not her. So who the hell was this guy? Had Errol slept with him? Like wild-monkey-sex slept with him? 

This had to be some crazy dream. Must be that convenience-store burrito he’d eaten for lunch. Guys like Errol didn’t wake up with guys like this. Errol pinched himself and blinked. The guy was still there. 

Errol covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. Opened them. Still there. Must be real. What in the hell was going on? Where was he? What had happened? 

A job, out in the sticks. Snowing. Dark. Cold, very cold. No, not snowing, blizzarding—could blizzard be a verb?—and he’d walked away from the Volvo, into the snow, fifty paces. Sixty? At some point, he’d lost count. Walking had tired him out, and he’d stopped to rest. 

And that was where the recollection ended: stopping to rest. And now waking up God knew where, to this. 

A gust blew down the chimney, fanning the embers to life, and the guy stretched. Errol inched away toward the edge of the mattress. Mountain of a Man yawned, rolled his head on the pillow, and lifted his lids. In the low light, his eyes were as dark as his hair. Lifting up on one elbow, he flashed a boyish smile. “You’re awake.” 

He looked awfully happy about that. Did he expect something? Errol swallowed and clutched the covers to his nakedness. “Who are you, and where are my clothes?” 

The stranger’s smile faded. “I’m Joe. Your clothes are drying.” 

“What happened?” 

“I dug you out of a snow bank last night. Almost hit you with my Jeep. You were freezing…unconscious, slow heart rate. Hypothermia. So when I got you home”—he waved at the room—“I stripped off your wet clothes and put you in bed. I got in with you to warm you up skin to skin. It was the best way under the circumstances.” 

Errol froze. Skin to skin with a naked man. Uh-oh. A setup for potential disaster. 

Joe narrowed his eyes. “You okay?” 

Heart in his throat, Errol managed a bob of the head. Hopefully his dick had been hypothermic and unconscious too. 

“Hang on a minute.” The guy rolled away and got out of the other side of the bed, facing away. Firelight played along his muscles. All of him was magnificent curves and planes: shoulders, back, butt, legs. A couple of inches over six feet tall. Sexy as hell, like a magazine ad come to life. 

Joe headed for a door in the corner, pushed it open, and disappeared into another room. Errol glimpsed the edge of a claw-foot tub. 

“Wait—how long have I been here?” 

“About seven hours. It’s four a.m. on December twenty-third.” Joe emerged wearing a robe tied at the waist and tossed a flannel shirt on the bed next to Errol. “You can wear that for now. Ought to keep you warm. You should stay in bed.” 

“I’m awake now.” Staying beneath the covers, Errol shoved his arms through the sleeves of the shirt and did up the buttons. The tails would cover everything important. 

“And that’s great. I’m really glad to see you awake, but you need to stay warm.” Joe stood next to the opposite side of the bed, not moving. 

Errol cleared his throat. Gran would frown at him for his lack of manners. “Thanks, Joe, for”— cuddling naked—“warming me up. I’m Errol.” 

“Yep, I know.” Joe grinned. “Errol—like the actor Errol Flynn.” 

Here we go. That’s what came of having a mother with a twisted sense of humor. The fancy name his mother had saddled him with had done nothing for his fledgling acting career, that was for damn sure. Laughs and funny looks were the extent of it. “How do you know my name?” 

“Your driver’s license. Needed to see who I was taking care of. Errol Lockhart, age twenty-six. Five feet ten inches, 160 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes. Organ donor.” Joe shoved his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Your hair’s longer now, but I was sure it was you.” 

Hyperaware, Errol ran a hand over his head. Hairstyling hadn’t survived his personal budget cuts, and it had gotten shaggy. His fingers had a vague burning to them. Holding his hands out, he studied them. Holy cow, they were red. 

“Can I check your hands and feet?” Joe asked. 

Errol balled his fists against his chest. “Why?” 

“You have a touch of frostbite.” Joe ambled over to the couch and chairs by the fireplace. The furniture had the same chubby-nubby look of the stuff Errol’s gran had favored, old and comfortable. A rolled-up rug rested against one wall, unused, leaving the wood floor bare except for dust. 

Joe squatted and rummaged in a big duffel bag with some sort of insignia, gathered a few items before returning to Errol and laying them on the bed. 

Antibacterial wipes, a jar of hydrating ointment, and a thermometer. Was this guy a nurse or something? Who carried that kind of stuff with them? 

“Open wide.” Joe held up the thermometer. “Need to see if you’re warmed up.” 

Errol opened his mouth, and Joe popped the thermometer in. 

“Hold out your hands.” 

Meeting his gaze, Errol complied. Deftly Joe applied the cream, long fingers calloused but kind, running over Errol’s hands. No wedding ring. It had been a while since someone had touched him with kindness, and it felt good, even if it was somewhat clinical. Errol’s toes were next, and Joe squatted as he looked them over. 

“A good thing you were wearing boots out there.” Joe stood and cleaned his hands with a wipe. “Your feet look better than your hands. I’ll take the thermometer.” 

Errol slid it out of his mouth and handed it over. What would Joe propose if Errol’s temp wasn’t normal? More naked cuddling? Because now that he was awake, two hundred pounds of hunky man wrapped around him might awaken other parts of Errol’s anatomy, and that could get embarrassing. 

Or it might piss Joe off, and then what would happen? Errol shivered. 

He won’t kick you out. Joe pulled you out of a snow bank, for God’s sake. He rescued you. 

Joe squinted at the numbers and frowned. “Still a bit cold. We need to get some warm fluids in you.” 

Joe headed to an L-shaped kitchen in the far corner. The stove was like something out of the last century—four-legged, black cast iron, and chrome accents. It had round lids instead of burners, and a white enamel backsplash with two small doors above. Joe lifted a section of the cooking surface, dropped in some sticks of kindling, and lit them with a match. He filled a teakettle with bottled water and set the pot on the stovetop. 

Very…rustic. 

Opposite the kitchen was the fireplace with a couch and chairs, and beyond that a door—presumably the front door, but who knew? The whole place couldn’t be bigger than twenty by twenty. This was pretty much a one-room cabin with a bathroom. 

Errol rubbed at his eyes, trying to get with the program. “Where are my clothes?” 

“By the fire.” Joe nodded toward a chair next to the hearth and smiled. “Do you always wear a metallic gold thong?” 

Heat rushed into Errol’s face. “I was on my way to a job.” 

Joe shook his head and opened a cupboard. “Must be some job.” 

Errol looked away. “It’s not what it looks like. I’m not a rent boy or a strip-naked stripper or anything like that. I do—did—singing telegrams.” For some reason, he felt the need to make sure Joe didn’t get the wrong impression. 

“They made you go out in a blizzard?” 

Images flashed of the Volvo rolling to a halt, and the interior cooling as snow gradually covered the windshield with a dull blanket. “No. I volunteered for the job, but on the way there Bessie broke down.” 

Eyebrows raised, Joe took a couple of mugs from a cabinet and set them on the counter. “Who’s Bessie?” 

“My car. I waited for a while, but there was no traffic. I decided to hoof it. I got cold and tired and stopped to rest. And now, I’m here. Wherever here is.” 

“My cabin. I think you must’ve taken a wrong turn on your way to sing your telegram last night, because there’s no one in this neck of the woods.” 

“Exactly how far from civilization are we?” 

“This time of year, the closest human civilization is twenty-eight miles. It’s mostly vacation homes in this area.” 

Errol’s gut tightened. “Do you think you can take me to my car?” 

Joe snorted. “Have you looked outside? It’s a blizzard, my friend. A good old-fashioned six-foot-drifts, downed-lines, can’t-leave-the-house blizzard.” 

“I can’t stay here.” I don’t know you. 

“You don’t really have a choice at this point.” 

Maybe he could call for a ride. The highway patrol or a snowplow or something. “Do you have cell service?” 

“Nope.” 

Nope? Where the hell was this place? “Internet?” 

Leaning against the counter, Joe lowered his chin and gave Errol a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look before turning back to the stove. 

Errol swung his legs out of bed and tugged the shirttails down. His feet hit the floor. His toes were sore, but the floor was unexpectedly warm. 

The teapot whistled. Joe took a box of teabags from an open shelf, draped a teabag in each mug, and filled them with steaming water. “Sugar or milk?” 

“Sugar, I guess.” 

Joe shoveled a quantity into each mug and stirred. He carried the mugs over, offered one to Errol, and sat down next to him on the bed. Joe smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine. Errol blew on the tea and took a sip. Hot, strong, and sweet, just the way he liked it. 

“Do you live out here full-time?” Errol asked. 

“Nope. I…don’t live in this area.” 

“So, is this a summer home or something?” 

“Pretty rustic for a summer home, don’t you think?” Joe said it with a wry look and a crooked grin. 

“Hunting lodge?” No twenty-point buck mounted over the fireplace, but hey, not everyone went for the dead-deer look, right? In fact, the wall above the mantel was blank. Framed pictures graced the mantel, along with what looked like a collection of vintage toy fire engines. As a kid, Errol had had a modern version of a pumper truck, back when he’d wanted to be a fireman. Back before the acting bug bit. 

Joe said, “My great-grandfather built the cabin, mostly as a place to stay when he went fishing up here. In the spring, the lake is full of trout.” 

“There’s a lake?” The directions he’d been given hadn’t had a lake. 

“Yeah. Are you a fisherman?” 

The thought of stringing a squirming worm on a hook, followed by catching a slimy fish…and cleaning it? Fish guts—blech. Errol shuddered, and Joe laughed. 

“I’ll take that as a no. Anyway, the place passed to my Gramps and then my dad. And now me.” 

“Are you expecting company for the holiday?” 

“No.” Joe swirled his mug and stared into its depths, frowning. His hands were large and well formed. They looked strong. “No company.” 

Wrong question. Errol shifted on the bed, uncomfortable, sitting there with a stranger while wearing only a flannel shirt. Errol lifted the cup to his lips and downed the rest of the tea. Heat and the heaviness of fatigue spread from his chest out to his fingers and toes 

“Hungry?” Joe asked. 

“Not now.” He felt like he’d hiked for days, and a yawn got loose. “Tired.” 

“Okay.” Joe stood and took Errol’s cup. “Get some rest.” 

“Are you going to…warm me up?” Heat filled his face. God, that sounded bad. Errol slid under the covers. 

Joe gave that crooked smile. “I think you’re good on your own now.” 

“Okay.” He hadn’t been good on his own for months. Clamping his eyes shut, Errol dragged the covers up to his nose. He heard Joe sigh and pad away. 

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Buy Link--  http://www.loose-id.com/midwinter-night-s-dream.html


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Author Link

Whitley Gray
http://www.whitleygray.com/

Azure and Frank; A Sweet Christmas Free Read by Mickie Sherwood

Blurb:

Azure's in high spirits. It's Christmastime! She has invited Frank to her family's traditional holiday breakfast. What could go wrong with that idea?

Frank's nervous. He comes because of Azure and he doesn't come empty-handed. All goes well until he asks her a simple question when they are alone. Then, she asks him to leave.

Will Azure's unfounded guilt ruin Christmas? Being the wise man that he is, will Frank's gift of love be enough to save Azure's Christmas spirit...and their romance?
  

Excerpt 

Frank Hickman unwrapped a stick of gum and shoved it into his dry mouth. He drove slowly past the house for the second time, to the tune of John Legend's All of Me. The yard looked like a toy store had exploded there. Well, it is the Christmas holidays, he thought, removing the gum. It only made his mouth drier.

Not only did cars fill the driveway, leaving one barricaded spot untouched, curbside was a parking lot. There were so many vehicles for so early on a Christmas Eve morning. His inclination was to keep driving. However, he didn't get to act on the notion.

As he watched, the glass door to the front of the house burst open. Azure exited on the run. Frank jammed on the brake. He turned down the volume on the sound system. She sprinted right up to the truck as it hummed in the middle of the street. Her face had a peachy glow as she leaned on the passenger side door. Was the abrupt exertion the cause? He believed she was truly glad to see him.

Frank lowered the window.

"Don't think you're going to sneak off," Azure said.

Moisture returned to his mouth at the purr in her voice. He wanted nothing more than to lay a passionate kiss on her alluring lips. Her smile warmed him all over, even as cold air filtered inside his vehicle. She shivered.

"When you invited me to breakfast this morning, to meet your family—" Frank fingered the neck of his shirt, "—I thought it was to meet your parents."

A sneaky, humorous look entered her eyes. Azure wound her arms across the front of her body at the gusty wind. "They're inside." Her high spirits were evident in the naughty lilt of her voice.

"Yeah. And from the looks of it, so is everyone else."

"You know how it is when out of town guests swarm in for the holidays."

Frank remained mute, because he didn't. Tiny fingers gripped the window's edge, diverting his attention. Azure bent to lift a little body and propped him on the door.

"Who's this?" he asked.

"I call him June Bug." She made kissy sounds on the child's cheek.

"Hi, June Bug," Frank greeted. He signaled to her his jealousy with a tap to his own jaw.

Hair drizzled into her face when she threw back her head and laughed.

"That's not my name." The child's voice broke into their playful moment. "It's Darick Junior."

"DJ for short," Azure explained further.

"Okay, DJ." Frank slanted his body to extend his hand for a shake. Instead, DJ slapped him "five" in the palm.

"All right, you," Azure said, putting him down. "Go back inside. It's too cold for you to be out in your PJs."

DJ took off, much to Frank's amusement, skirting through the artfully arranged yard decorations on the way.

"Park it right here, mister." She talked to him now, indicating the vacant spot in the drive with a dip of her head. It took seconds for her to remove the makeshift barrier. "I reserved that place..." Azure flung her arm out and pointed, "...just for you."

"You mean that, don't you?" He gathered his elation came across in his tone. The unhurried curve of her fascinating smile said so.

She stepped aside with a hand on her hip for an answer, looking like a curvy goddess in her purple cowl neck sweater and fitted blue jeans.

Frank shifted into reverse while raising the window. He backed up enough to make the swing into the spot. Azure stood at his door before he even turned off the engine. She graced him with such an inviting look that his heartbeat increased to an erratic pace. He opened his door with careful deliberation to avoid hitting her.

"Every word of it." She finally replied to his question, taking a couple steps back to let him exit.

The way she caressed his arm, once he got out, continued his ascension into never-land. Getting to know her over the past months enlightened him. Her constant display of resiliency impressed him. Not once did he hear the words "why me?" come out of her mouth. Frank was wishful. The hope he was partly responsible for her merry disposition psyched him. Wrestling to rein in his rampant emotions didn't work.

She led him toward the door by the hand. The door hinges squeaked, snatching his attention away from her. Frank looked up and caught the eyes of the crowd standing in the doorway. Christmas Carols sifted outside to greet him. "Will I get a meal or...become the meal?"

Azure laughed but never stopped moving. "I know you're not nervous..."

Frank fought to hide his unease. "Not as long as you're by my side." He meant every word.

This was his make it or break it moment. The number of eyes raking over him increased the closer he got to the door. An oppressive heat sweltered under his black leather jacket. His instinct was to rip it off. That would be a dead giveaway to his plight. Therefore, he suffered.

"Geez! Back up, everybody." Azure's tone was bossy. "You'll scare Frank away...and God help you if you do that."

Those simple, yet poignant words lessened his anxiety.

Frank walked behind her, although she maintained a grip on his hand. The secret squeeze to his fingers buoyed him. Using his free hand, he held the storm door open high over her head while she entered. Comments started as soon as the soles of his shoes rested on the carpet.

"He doesn't look as old as I expected." That remark came from a young woman who sported a devious grin.

The open floor plan allowed him to watch her stroll away into the kitchen, leaving behind her snicker and another comment.

"I guess he'll do."

He didn't know how to respond. Or even if he should. Therefore, he kept silent, bracing for another onslaught from the masses. All eyes refocused on him. Delicious smells assaulted his senses. His stomach made an embarrassing growl while he stood in the encroaching semi-circle.

Shifting to a dominate stance, he rammed his hand into his pants pocket. The feel of his keys, loose change—but especially the ring—relaxed him. The chances he would offend anyone were nil. This was Azure's time. There was nothing they could do to provoke him.

"Don't mind my kid sister, Frank. She's Hateful Hanna. Dateless, mateless, and as jealous as they come."

Azure's off-handed introduction was a breath of fresh air to a suffocating man. Chuckling, he stepped up and boldly declared himself to all present. "I'm Frank Hickman." Continue reading.

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Like what you've read? Finish this romance at my blog http://www.mickiesherwood.com/blog/free-reads.


Then, read the first chapter of my new novella release, Christmas Crush http://mickiesherwood.com/blog/2014/12/12/christmas-crush-first-chapter/.

Ski Slope Sparks by Monique DuBois. A Christmas Encounters Novel.

Blurb

Jamie Fielding has been counting the days until her Christmas ski vacation. Unfortunately, when her cheating boyfriend cancels at the last minute, it looks as though she’ll be spending Christmas Eve alone. 

Instead, a bad case of altitude sickness lands her in the resort infirmary where she finds herself in the company of a sexy, charismatic doctor. After a passion-filled night in a cozy ski cabin, Jamie awakens in the arms of the best Christmas present ever…Dr. Wyatt Tremaine. 

Their newfound bond is threatened, however, when lovers from their pasts show up. Luckily, the magic of the season prevails, and soon Jamie and Wyatt are in each other’s arms again, experiencing the kind of sparks that are destined to light an enduring fire…and give them a Christmas to remember.

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Buy it today!

Amazon US:  http://www.amazon.com/Romance-Ski-Slope…/dp/B00OGRW4JS

Amazon UK:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Romance-Ski-Slope…/dp/B00OGRW4JS

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Faes, Mundanes and Santa Claus. Saving Christmas by Rebekah R. Ganiere

A Christmas Nights Collection Novella

Blurb

Raine’s a Fae with no magic. Banished to live among “Mundanes” in the human world she works as an Inquisitor for Otherworlders. But when her ex-boyfriend Gabriel Kringle, heir to the Santa Claus legacy, goes missing, it’s her job to find him. Problem is, she’d rather he just stayed missing.

Hurt by everyone she’s ever cared about Raine isn't about to open up her heart to her “bad boy” best friend Jordan who’s been in love with her for years. Especially since his Pride’s made it abundantly clear that there’s no way in hell they’ll let him marry anyone but another were tiger.

As Raine investigates the disappearance of Gabriel, she discovers that he hasn't just run off with a set of twin Christmas Fae for the weekend. Something more sinister is in the works; and if she can’t save him Christmas will be ruined forever. But will rescuing Gabriel bring Raine and Jordan closer, or will old feelings for Gabriel tear them apart forever?

Saving Christmas is a part of The Christmas Nights Collection. Just type The Christmas Nights in the search bar to find all of the other fun and steamy Christmas short stories by some of Today’s Bestselling authors.


EXCERPT:

“You are good just the way you are, darlin’. You don’t need magic to make you special.”

The scent of Jordan’s cologne wafted toward her, making her body wake up and pay attention. She fought the growing urges to run her tongue down the length of his torso and watch his toes curl as she rode him til—

“Raine?”

“What?” She pushed a spot of drool from her lip. Had she thought that out loud? Oh please don’t let her have thought that out loud!

“Did you hear me?” His eyes searched hers.

“Yeah, of course. I know. I’m perfect.”

He snickered. “I wouldn't go that far.”

She smacked him on the shoulder and pushed him till he fell on his butt.

“So what’s not perfect about me?”

He studied her for a minute. “Well, your black hair is kind of straight.”

“So?”

“It’s almost too thin.”

“What?”

“And your bluish-green eyes are really…”

“Really what?”

He shrugged. “Almost too bluish-green. Like unnaturally so.”

“Are you serious? I’m Fae, of course they’re not natural human looking. Anything else?”

He got to his feet and yanked her up. She sucked in a sharp breath as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Your waist is too thin.” He smashed her against his chest. “But your breasts are a nice size and firmness.”

“Jerk.” She repressed the urge to laugh.S

He leaned back. “You’re a tad on the small side, but I appreciate that in a woman.” His hands slid down to cup her rear.

Raine’s brain fuzzed over as shivers of desire raced through her, settling in her core and making her throb. Jordan leaned in so close his warm breath caressed her neck as his deep voice whispered in her ear.

“And you have a nice round handful of a backside that is, in fact, perfect for my large hands to hold on to.”

He tilted his head so his mouth stopped inches from hers. Raine licked her lips and her heart fluttered. No, she couldn't.

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Buy it today!   http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Christmas-Collection-Otherworlder-Holiday-ebook/dp/B00PEDEEJQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1415566729&sr=1-1

Author Link-   http://rebekahganiere.com/novels-2/books-now-available/saving-christmas-an-otherworlder-holiday-novella/