With Cameron out of their lives for good, the Kaplans are ready to celebrate Yule, a time of spiritual renewal and giving thanks to the gods of their ancestors for the benevolence showed to them. Eoghan’s and Gwylim’s miraculously coming back from the dead, Aidan putting his traumatic past behind, Bennett coming home—these are only some of the things the clan is grateful for.
Eoghan and Phelan, now an established couple, have the approval of both families…except Niall, who still hopes to break them up somehow. Phelan has plans of his own; his fiancé is in for the surprise of his life, and so is the former elder of the Kaplan clan.
Carradine and Thorne, on the other hand, still hesitate to voice what they feel for each other, and Fionnuala is tired of putting up with her cold, arrogant husband, so different from her one true love.
Enter Graham, a ghost boy from the Kaplan family, who met an untimely death almost three centuries earlier, who decides to help the true soulmates find the way to each other’s heart again and enrolls the help of Gareth, Thorne’s son, and Methuselah, the resident ball python with a larger-than-life personality.
Gareth woke up in the dead of the night, the mighty thirst which overtook him driving him to the kitchen to quench it. Methuselah-the-python uncurled from the foot of the bed and followed the teen, hissing worriedly. There was no one on the corridors or into the kitchen, but the teen felt a shifting into the air and a chill ran down his spine.
Gareth took a small bottle of water from the fridge, twisted its cap, and emptied the contents in almost one go. Letting out a small sigh of contentment, he put the bottle into the trash can, then turned around to walk to the exit but bumped into something on the way. The object was emanating the same kind of chill Gareth sensed on his way to the kitchen.
Definitely someone, not something, he thought. “It’s freezing outside. What in the name of the gods are you doing in the snow and cold at this hour? You should be in bed wrapped in blankets, sleeping.”
“No blankets would keep me warm.” The answer came in an overwhelmingly sad voice. “And I haven’t slept in ages; I forgot what it’s like, but I’d really like to…” The one who spoke, a boy about Gareth’s age, abruptly stopped, then continued in a voice tinged with disbelief. “Wait, can you see me?”
“Of course I can. Blond, curly hair, beautiful blue eyes like the clear summer’s sky, a little shorter than me and also a bit thinner, and…” It was Thorne’s son’s turn to stop talking and vehemently shake his head. “No. That’s impossible. No way.”
Methuselah let out a long hiss as though he were confirming Gareth’s words, much to the other boy’s amazement. “You’re right, it is odd because you offered a perfectly accurate description of me.” The blond boy frowned. “Is this an expression from your time? Perfectly accurate? I’m trying to adjust and, since you are the first one I talk to in…”
“My time?” Gareth’s eyes went wide as a thought crossed his mind, making his blood freeze. “What time do or did you live in? What country?”
“Last I remember, I was seventeen in my father’s house, the Akedene Manor in Scotland, just before the brave, mighty clans were defeated by the English dogs in the Battle of Culloden.” The other boy paused a bit. “I’m Graham, the fourth son of Barclay Kaplan, laird of Akedene, and his loyal wife Annabelle.”
“I’m Gareth, the only son of Thorne St. Ives, a retired spy of sorts.” The teenager stopped to choose the right words. “What my dad does…it’s pretty difficult to explain to someone who is not from this time, as you put it.” The teen took a sharp inhale. “And I’m blind most of the time. I mean, all the time, except for now when I only see you.”
Graham gave a small smile and bent down to pet Methuselah’s head, causing the snake to express his affection through a long, soft hiss. “Is the sacred creature yours? Can he see me, too, or just using his senses?” He looked into Gareth’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know snakes have healing and magical powers. Also, they are very wise.”
“I don’t know about other snakes, but Methuselah has quite a personality and sometimes he acts like he knows things, so yeah, I think there’s a drop of magic in him.” Gareth swallowed hard. “Back to you now; so, from what I understood, you are a ghost, right?” When the other boy nodded, he continued. “How did you end up in this situation?”
About the Author
H.M. lives with the coolest Mom in the Universe and a fat, gay, submissive tomcat. She loves writing stories about boys and men who love, cherish, respect and protect other boys and men.
I’m a commitment-phobe.
He’s a widower. Is the true gift of Christmas each other?
All I want for Christmas is a sexy silver fox, and Cuffd
Kinkmas events are the perfect places to find temporary Daddies for steamy
I don’t expect to get swept off my feet. I don’t expect to
want more of Magnus.
Even though I’m freaking out, I can’t deny that he ticks all
my boxes. He’s older, handsome, and firm enough to handle my brattiness. But when
Christmas ends, will I run for the hills or be brave enough to stay?
A Silver Fox for Kinkmas is a May to December steamy romance with spankings, orgasm denial, a cock
cage, and a talkative parrot. It’s part of the Naughty or Nice Season Three multi-
author series. Each book can be read as a standalone, but there are so many Daddies and
boys finding their happily ever afters, why not grab them all?
I turned around and almost bashed into a slim guy with
strawberry blond hair and a chin cleft to die for.
“Well, hello, Santa.” He stared up at me with a bratty grin on
his face. “Aren’t you sexy?”
That was a better start. I let my stare travel over him while he
checked me out. He was wearing a hat and short-sleeved shirt made of green crushed
velvet. The shirt had a plummeting V-shaped neckline, which drew the eye down to his waist
and then a pair of green-and-red-striped shorts. They were tight. It was impossible not to
notice the bulge of his cock.
“Like what you see?” he asked.
His grin widened. “Do you want to dance?”
“I’m not a great dancer,” he admitted.
I laughed. “Nor am I.” Not at the kind of dancing that went on
in clubs anyway. I leant closer so I could whisper into his ear. “I don’t think many people here
“Probably not. Club-dancing is a bit like dad-dancing at a
wedding,” he decided. “A bit sad, but what does it matter if you’re having fun?”
“I like that analogy.”
“Are you here alone?”
“It is a singles night.”
He threw his head back and laughed. His laughter was like
sparkling Pims on a sunny day. “I know, but you might have brought a wingman with
“No. Have you?”
“No.” He rolled his eyes. “My usual wingman has got himself a
permanent Daddy.” He ran a hand through his floppy hair. “I’m here to have fun.”
“And pull?” I ventured.
“Yeah, that too.” He held his hand out. “I’m Barney. It’s nice to
meet you, Santa.”
I took his hand and shook it firmly.
“Nice grip.” His eyes sparkled.
“My name’s not really Santa.”
He stepped in close and put his finger over my lips. “I bet you
have a sexy name, but tonight, I’m going to call you Santa.”
“Does that mean I can call you a naughty elf?”
“You can call me whatever you want.”
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she
met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually
led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England
with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Morgan loves three things; Books, women, and being
single. But when Grad school costs more than her rent, she needs to come up with a way to
make some money and fast. After a one-night stand with a beautiful woman, she wakes the
next morning in a hurry to make it to her interview as a live-in nanny.
Despite acing the interview, she has to pass one final test;
meeting the mother—who just so happens to be her one-night stand. They both decide to
call it a one-night thing and move forward, with Morgan becoming her son’s nanny.
As a divorced, single mom Lucy can get all the help she
needs. But as the mistletoe is hung and the stockings are filled, are sparks flying too? As Lucy
begins to fall for her son’s nanny, she shows her love in a series of her favorite books.
Counting down the 24 days of Christmas with Morgan, by trying to tell her how she feels,
worried she doesn’t feel the same.
Morgan devours each book, desperate to know if Lucy is
sending her a sign. But as Christmas approaches, will each woman get what they want? Or
will they be stuck out in the cold as the days of Morgan’s nannying contract are up?
About the Author
Shannon O’Connor is a twenty-something, bisexual, self-published poet of several books and
counting. She released her first novel, Electric Love in 2021 and is currently working on
several sapphic romance novels. She believes there is a lack of positive Female/Female
romances in the world, and wants to make them more accessible. She is often found in
coffee shops, probably writing about someone she shouldn’t be.
Asa might be the head
coach, but he’s a man first.
Coach Asa Dawson has fallen wildly in love only twice in his
life. First with football.
Then with Scott Callaway. But Scott isn’t just the one who got
away. He’s the one person—the one man—Asa hoped
might finally show him how all-consuming passion could be. Instead, fate (and football) intervened and they
never got the chance to explore their attraction. Their friendship ended in ruins, Scott left,
and Asa’s been torn between hating him and loving him for the last seven
years. Asa doesn’t think he’ll ever see him again, but
when his bad habits catch up to him and he doesn’t have a choice but to accept help, he’s
horrified—and exhilarated—to learn Scott’s been hired to assist him. With the final stretch of the Piranhas season falling
during the holidays, maybe what Asa and Scott have needed this whole time was a little
Christmas magic to remind them the most important job isn’t to win the season—but to
finally win each other’s hearts.
Scott’s hands were still
It was like being plugged back into a socket, after so
long without electricity, being in Asa’s presence again.
Since he’d gotten the call from Beau, he hadn’t really
let himself consider what it would mean. What it would feel like.
He’d only allowed himself the worry.
Asa was sick; he was struggling and in the goddamn
hospital. Beau had reassured him, more than once, that he’d be fine, that the doctors
weren’t particularly worried, they only wanted him to change his lifestyle.
Sleep more. Eat better. Work less.
That, Beau had said, was where he came in. He didn’t
know anyone else who’d be able to convince Asa to relax the reins.
Scott had agreed, because after how things had gone
seven years ago, how could he not? How could he not be there for Asa when he needed him,
more than anyone else?
But he didn’t tell Beau that he wouldn’t be able to
convince him of jack shit now.
Asa was, understandably, still pissed.
Scott couldn’t even blame him.
He was still pissed at himself.
He’d known the moment he landed in Washington
that it was all wrong, that he’d made a mistake, that instead of trying to be so fucking noble,
he should have just taken Asa’s hand and kissed him and learned how to be
No matter what that meant.
But he’d committed to leading Washington’s program,
and he’d done that, for six years.
Then a year ago, they’d let him go, and he’d gone
home, not to Tennessee, because Asa was still there, and the whole damn state didn’t feel
big enough for the two of them, but back home to Alabama, to the small town he’d lived in
before he’d gone to college.
“You alright?” Beau asked as they lingered at the
front of the conference room, the rest of the coaching staff taking their seats, grumbling all
It was deep into the season, it was the Monday after
a game, and they were all tired.
Scott remembered exactly how it had felt, on those
Mondays, even though he’d only ever coached in college, never in the NFL.
“Yeah, fine,” Scott said automatically.
He was not fine.
Not even remotely.
He’d thought . . . well, he didn’t know what he’d
thought, exactly. But he hadn’t imagined that he and Asa would meet again like this. He’d
imagined running into him—sorta, kinda, on purpose—on the Tennessee campus. He’d
imagined making things right.
The part of the imagining he’d purposefully forgotten
was that Asa was going to be justifiably pissed at him.
About the Author
A lifelong Pacific Northwester, Beth Bolden has just recently moved to North Carolina with
her supportive husband. Beth still believes in Keeping Portland Weird, and intends to be just
as weird in Raleigh.
Beth has been writing practically since she learned the alphabet. Unfortunately, her first
foray into novel writing, titled Big Bear with Sparkly Earrings, wasn’t a bestseller, but hope
springs eternal. She’s published twenty-three novels and seven novellas.
Can Avery open his
heart to two soldiers this Christmas?
Can Avery open his heart to two soldiers this
Christmas? Felix Hawkins and Zach Walsh fell in love with each
other when they were fourteen—and with their best friend’s little brother when they were
twenty-three. But at that point, Avery was barely an adult, still wearing hearts in his eyes
when he looked at them. Felix was determined that they should wait so that Avery could
come to them on even footing, as an adult fully grown and with a clear head. Zach wasn’t
sure he could be that patient, but for Felix, and for Avery, he would do anything. So they’ve
held out for what feels like forever—and they know what they want for Christmas this
year! Avery McKenna might have crushed on his
brother’s best friends once upon a time, but that’s over with now… right? He’s focused on
his career, and while his job might not be keeping him warm at night, it’s summer in Sydney;
he doesn’t need any extra warmth. Felix and Zach and their charming… everything, can waltz
right back out the door because he doesn’t want anything to do with whatever game they’re
playing with him. It has to be a game, right? Earth-shattering kisses aside, why would they
ever want him for keeps? Is the beautiful picture they might paint together
worth the risk of it all going wrong? Avery has never been a gambler, but he might finally be
ready to take a chance on the best Christmas present he’s ever received. Two Soldiers for Christmas is a roughly 28,000-
word MMM older brother’s best friends Christmas novella featuring an established couple
adding a third, Christmas shenanigans, and a satisfying HFN ending.
If Zach hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, this
would have been the moment. The point in a rom-com movie where everything slows down
as that realisation kicks in. Except there were no oh fuck feelings to accompany it. It
wasn’t a surprising feeling for him. Zach welcomed it.
“What are you—?” Avery said, his eyes widening in horror.
They widened further when he looked down at himself. “Oh my god.”
He slammed the door in their faces.
Felix chuckled. “Think he forgot we were coming?”
Something crashed loudly inside and Zach instantly shoved
his bags at Felix and rushed through the—thankfully unlocked—door. If it hadn’t been, he
would have put his boot through it.
Avery was standing next to a small scaffolding set up, the
floor surrounding it covered in white sheets, and dozens of tins of paint in different sizes.
There were about six jars of murky water and paintbrushes and a few rollers, along with an
iPod speaker dock that had splashes of paint all over it. An iPod that Zach was pretty sure
was older than Avery was sitting in it, low Christmas music playing.
The only part of the situation that didn’t fit was the paint
tin that Avery was holding in his hand, red paint puddled all over the sheets and some of it
leaking onto to the tiling.
Avery stared at him, red paint dripping from his hair.
“Are you all right?” Felix asked. He took the paint tin from
Avery’s hand and checked it over while Zach took Avery’s face in his hands. Zach turned his
head left and right, making sure he hadn’t hurt himself. It looked like all the red was just
paint, but it was best to be sure.
Avery was still staring, wide-eyed, at him. “Yeah—yes? I’m
fine. I just…” He sighed and gestured at the scaffolding with the hand that Felix had just let
go of. “Knocked down the paint tin. It’s going to take me hours to clean this mess up.”
“I think you’re supposed to have a harness on when you’re
up that high,” Felix said, looking over the scaffolding with a slight frown on his face.
“It’s not high,” Avery said.
“Still above regulation height,” Felix said.
“Aren’t you just a walking inspector?” Avery shot back
sarcastically. “It’s fine.”
“What would happen if you did fall?” Felix’s eyes narrowed.
“If you were here alone and hit your head?”
Avery threw his hands up in aggravation. “I guess I would
Zach bit back his snarled reaction to those words. He knew
that Avery wasn’t being serious, but it still made him feel like he’d been slammed in the
head by a helicopter rotor. He might not have been a medic, but he knew how quickly a
head injury could turn bad.
He reached out and grabbed one of the scaffolding legs,
and then pushed. It rolled easily under his grip. “You don’t even have the safety on,” he said
“So what?” Zach repeated, his voice rising unintentionally.
“So have a little more care for your personal safety.”
“What, you guys are going to suddenly act like you give a
shit about me?” Avery’s hazel eyes were blazing.
“When have we not cared about you?” Felix asked. He
sounded like always did—even and level-headed. But Zach knew him too well. He could hear
the tremor of hurt that Felix was so good at concealing. Hearing it made anger rise in Zach’s
stomach. They didn’t deserve that. They’d never been dismissive of Avery, not once, in all
the years they’d known him.
“I’ve been doing this for years and I’m still here, so go pull
your big brother act on someone else,” Avery said, turning his back dismissively.
Zach whirled him around and trapped him against the
scaffolding, bracing himself with one hand gripping tightly to it. “Big brother act?” he bit out.
“You think that’s what this is?”
Avery’s pulse visibly jumped in his throat. The things that
Zach wanted to do to him, the thoughts he had, weren’t brotherly in any way. He took hold
of Avery’s chin and stroked his thumb across it, just under the alluring curve of his bottom
lip. Avery’s pupils dilated, his lips parting in shock.
We sounded like a bad
pop song from our youth. Or an even worse one from the present.
“We’re going to have a brilliant Christmas, Andreas. Just like
it was ten years ago, all of us together,” Vati said, placing steaming cups of coffee in front of
us. “We’re just pointing out that you and Fredrik always had something special, and you
haven’t seen each other for years. It will be lovely for you to reconnect.”
“Reconnecting is fine. We can discuss college life versus
German nursing schools, drink Jägerbombs and watch weird Norwegian shit on TV.
Christmas will be thrilling.”
“Andreas…” Vati warned as Lottie burst into giggles.
“You adore Fredrik. Still. I can see it in your eyes. You go all
panic-stricken and weird when we even mention Freee—”
“Fredrik has a girlfriend in America. Maria hates my guts.
Frank and Thomas will whip my butt for not visiting over summer, and anyway, I have to buy
them a big present to bribe them to even talk to me.”
Vati smiled. “Frank and Thomas love you like a son, and
they will just hug the shit out of you as usual.”
“Alongside Maria’s boyfriend, and Fredrik’s girlfriend. It will
be a delightful group hug.” I snarled.
“Fredrik’s girlfriend isn’t coming. I told you that,” Vati said
sternly. He was pissed off with me already, and we hadn’t even had breakfast.
“Whatever.” I huffed.
was the word I was looking for. This whole thing was going to be super awkward. Because
they always were. And Fredrik? My world used to spin around the strange, blonde boy who
was my best friend for a few years. He lit up my life. Then he fucked off. Well, he fucked off
because I told him to. I was stupid and scared. I think he was too.
That wasn’t even the start of what this Christmas was going to be like.
Life is Right Here was intended to be a one-chapter Christmas epilogue to Life is Good and Other Lies.
This book is still that, an epilogue, and should be read
after Life is Good and Other Lies to make sense. We hope that it will bring everything full circle
and that you will enjoy, once again, following this family to their final HEA.
Terminal and life-threatening illness. Bipolar disorder. Talk of
suicide and the fear of this. Far too many sugar-
laden Christmas foods.
This book has an HEA.
I’d tried. I really had tried. My dads had been
together since they were in their twenties, a lifetime. We all knew the story about how
they’d met and found love and lost and found and lost and found and then never lost again.
It was like a fairy tale, like one of Frank’s favourite movies, even if Thomas kept teasing him
that their meet-cute wasn’t actually an epic love story of any sort. He always said it had been
fate. Thing was, I’d always wanted that for myself, and I’d thought Andreas had been the
one, back when we were teenagers. But then he wasn’t, and I didn’t know what I’d done
wrong or why anything had happened in the first place.
My flights home to Oslo this time were chaotic and stressful
with too many people going somewhere for Christmas. I’d managed to wrap myself into my
own bubble of blankets and cheap pillows and dozed over Canada, then watched the ice
over Greenland in wide-eyed, jet-lagged wonder. I’d barely registered landing in Paris before
rushing through CDG, a mishmash of then-futuristic architecture from the last century and
modern, energy-saving solutions that made me dizzy. I barely caught my flight and dozed off
again the second I hit my seat. I felt calmer now; home was getting closer. If it was still home, I
thought before my brain shut off.
“Fredrik!” My dad’s arms were long and warm around me
outside customs. I dropped my bag and backpack on the floor. My eyes were wet; my god,
how much I had missed him. I leant into his chest and sniffed in the familiar smell of his
shampoo and aftershave, the detergent we used at home, his stubble scratching my cheek,
his hair tickling my lips. I breathed him for who knew how long. Seconds, minutes, I didn’t
I was finally home again.
About the Authors
Magdalena Di Sotru
is an information security and data protection enthusiast from Norway. She is a mother of
two and wife of one as well as a long-established fanfic writer. Her favourite food is (actually)
salads (without mayo), her favourite guilty pleasure is fresh bakery goods (and that explains
why everyone would think the salad was a lie). She knows her way around knitting, lock
picking and skydiving (all at about equal skill levels – go figure). Life is Good and Other lies
was her first novel.
should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to
fangirl over TV shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to
remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-)glamourous real-life job.
Her long-suffering husband
just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The dogs are too.
She lives in a creaky old
house in rural London, although her heart is still in her native Scandinavia.
Discovering that the stories in
her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis
ever, and she hopes it may long continue.
What better Christmas
present is there than finding your fated mate?
’Twas the week before Christmas
And all across Christmas Cove the elves were snowed
Preparing presents for Santa’s sleigh
To deliver to children all around the world.
But Dash—Santa’s favourite reindeer—is missing.
In his place, Aubron, the elf responsible for looking after all
of Santa’s reindeer, finds a naked man in Dash’s stall.
A stranger he is inexplicably drawn to.
Can Aubron find Dash, and figure out who the mystery man
is before Christmas is ruined?
This M/M romance from Beth Laycock features fated
mates, a reindeer shifter, an elf definitely not left on the shelf, Santa, the North Pole,
lashings of Christmas spirit, and of course a HEA.
The workshop was abuzz with activity, even at this early hour,
but before I could unwrap my scarf, Santa waved me over. Dodging the elves already hard at
work, I followed him into his office, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling of déjà vu.
“Did you check on Dash?” Santa asked as he paced the length
of his small office.
“Yes. As soon as I left you yesterday. He was fine—even
managed to polish off a good helping of his favourite moss. Then I took him out for a walk
along the seashore once I’d finished all my jobs and he had fun splashing in the
Santa stopped and spun to face me, tugging on his white
beard. “Really?” I nodded and he dropped into his chair with a grunt. “I don’t understand.
When I went in last night before I went to bed, the other reindeer were sound asleep, but
Dash was pacing his stall, scraping his hooves across the stones over and over. Even when I
spoke to him, he didn’t settle but eventually lay down. He looked so sad though, and he was
still awake when I left.”
Santa sounded distraught, but I didn’t know what to say—Dash
had been fine when I’d left him.
“What if it’s something serious?” Santa’s eyebrows
disappeared beneath the white curls falling over his forehead.
I swallowed thickly at the thought.
“What if he can’t fly on Christmas Eve? What would we do
then? There’s no other reindeer that could take his place—none of them can fly.” Santa’s
eyes met mine across the desk. “Christmas will be ruined.”
I stared at Santa not knowing what to say. There was nothing to say, he was right, it would be. So, I did the only thing I could and hurried away
to check on Dash.
Christmas will be ruined. All the way to the barn
those words echoed through my mind. Christmas will be ruined. I yanked my
feet out of the snow—almost buried to my knee—hurrying as best I could over last night’s
snowfall. By the time I reached the barn, my chest was heaving, plumes of my breath misting
on the air, and I didn’t think it was just the exertion of rushing.
I grabbed the large iron handle and tugged on the
door—nothing. It didn’t move an inch and my dream flickered in full technicolour beneath
my closed eyelids. This could not be happening.
I heaved on the handle, putting my full weight behind it, and
was rewarded by the squeal of the wheels as the door slid open. Releasing a sigh of relief, I
hurried inside, dashing down the centre aisle of the barn, past the stalls with the other
reindeer, a couple of them lifting their heads to peek out at the commotion I was
I reached Dash’s stall and pulled up short. It was empty. Huh?
The gate was bolted shut and Santa hadn’t said anybody else was checking on Dash. I leant
over the wooden slat to peer into the stall and almost fell over the gate and inside when I
spied the stranger curled up in the corner—the strange man who was butt naked.
About the Author
Beth Laycock’s books are
influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of
England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell
herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.
As a teenager, she attempted
to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It
wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit
telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling
them down since. Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to
cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she
can turn caffeine into words.
Beth’s books range from
sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always