Cary Sutton isn’t surprised when his boyfriend walks out on him during a
holiday in Cornwall at Christmas. It’s far from the first time that someone's accused him of being cold — both
inside and out. Cary’s spent his whole life feeling like he’s separated from the world by a sheet of glass.
Nothing touches him. Nothing moves him.
Which is why it’s so strange to find himself drawn to a small Cornish beach and the man he meets there.
Sigurd Arvesen is handsome and charming, but he also holds a secret — one that’s big enough to overturn
Cary’s whole world.
Sigurd is a centuries-old dragon, and Cary is his mate.
Whisked into Sigurd’s magical world, Cary meets strange and wonderful creatures that he’s only ever read
about in books. The mystical realm is both enchanting and dark, but even scarier are the warm feelings that
Sigurd brings out in Cary.
What will happen when Christmas Eve dawns and Cary must go home?
From bestselling author Lily Morton comes a magical Christmas story about a
lonely dragon and his one true love.
Lily lives in sunny England with her husband and two children, all of whom
claim that they haven’t had a proper conversation with her since she bought her first Kindle.
She loves chocolate and Baileys and the best of all creations – chocolate
Baileys! Her lifetime’s ambition is to have a bath in peace without being shouted by one of her family.
Wow. I did not expect to run into Brooklyn Kings retired football star Harte McKinney in my hometown of
Appleton Falls. It takes me back to my college days when I crushed on him in silence. All these years later,
nothing’s changed. Even better, something in his eyes has me thinking he’s not as straight as I’d always
believed.
When I find him hurt in a car crash in the snow, it’s my duty as a deputy sheriff to follow him to the hospital
and make sure he’s going to be okay. Then we share an unexpected kiss, and I make him a proposal:
come home with me to recuperate so we can explore these feelings behind closed doors.
Each day we spend together brings us closer, and we know we want to be together. But small towns have
big eyes—we might not be able to keep what we have to ourselves much longer. My partner already suspects
Harte and I are more than “just friends.” And when my mom gets an eyeful of Harte in his birthday suit…it’s
time.
Let the snow fall where it may—we’re ready to come out.
There’s a fire crackling in the grate, the tree is decorated, and presents are wrapped. We’re all set to
huddle together for the holidays and hope that love and magic of Christmas conquers all.
Felice Stevens writes romance because what is better than people falling in
love? Her favorite part of a romance novel is that first kiss…sigh. She loves creating stories of hopes and
dreams and happily ever afters. Her stories are character-driven, rich with the sights, sounds and flavors of
New York City and filled with men who are sometimes deeply flawed but always real.
Felice writes M/M romance because she believes that everyone deserves a
happily ever after. Having traveled all over the world, she can safely say that the universal language that unites
people is love. Felice has written in a variety of sub-genres, including contemporary, paranormal and has a
mystery series as well.
Felice is a two-time Lambda Literary award nominee, and Lambda award
winner for Best Gay Romance for her book, The Ghost and Charlie Muir.
he cowboy, the rancher, and a little holiday magic...
Tanner
I met the grumpiest man on the planet and I’m head over heels in lust. No joke. Oak Ridge Ranch’s new part-time vet slash ranch hand is a bear and he’s built like one too. If I were smart, I’d keep my distance.
In a twist, I’m not so smart.
But I can tell that under his hard as nails exterior, the cowboy is a gentle giant. Axel is a devoted single dad, a dedicated vet, and…I think he likes me. Or he wants me.
I can work with that.
There’s nothing wrong with a little holiday fun, is there?
Axel
I need the job at the ranch through December, then I’m out of here. I have a kid to think of and it’s time to settle old scores and build a new life.
But Tanner is making things complicated. He’s smart, intuitive, and charming, and—
Whoa! I’ve learned my lesson. This is temporary. I’m not Tanner’s cowboy.
I might be attracted to him, but I can handle it.
I hope.
Okay, fine. I may need some Christmas magic to get out of this with my heart in one piece. Wish me luck.
A Cowboy Holiday is an MM, bisexual romance featuring a single dad-cowboy-grump, a sweetheart of a rancher, and some holiday magic.
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn’t mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who’s pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write. She’s been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying! Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she’s set!
The hockey player, the figure skater, and the roommate situation…
Gus
No one throws a party quite like I do. Technically, I could have graduated three years ago, but I love Smithton, I love hockey, and the team needs a good captain with a positive outlook. That’s me. I love this town, and it loves me.
Well, except for my roommate.
Rafe doesn’t like me at all—total mystery. I’m a nice guy. Ask anyone. He’s the one with stick-in-the-mud-itis. Or maybe the nonstop partying is too much for him. It’s definitely taking a toll on me, and I’m trying to do better ’cause in a twist, Rafe’s not so bad.
He has a great smile, pretty eyes, cute dimples, and—
Oh, man. I think I have a situation.
Rafe
This cannot be happening. I’m a competitive figure skater with goals and big plans. How did I get saddled with a party-boy hockey-hero for a roommate?
Oh, yeah. I mistakenly assumed the captain of the hockey team would be goal-oriented. Wrong. Gus and I have nothing in common, and I have no idea how I’m going to survive a year of this.
But oddly enough, we’re good together in a crisis. So good, I’m beginning to wonder if we could be something serious. Something more than a couple of athletes playing the roommate game.
The Roommate Game is an MM light-angst, college hockey romance featuring a fun-loving captain, a serious figure skater, and a chance at forever.
This hangover wasn’t my worst by a long shot. I still felt crappy, though, and my mouth was dry as dust. I hobbled to the kitchen and sent up a prayer to the fridge gods that there’d be something on the shelves.
The gods answered with a gallon of pulp-free orange juice and a single slice of cheddar cheese.
Meh, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
I glugged half the carton, swiped my hand across my mouth, and was about to polish off the rest when I sensed someone behind me.
Rafe, my cute, but very grumpy roommate. The dude was about as friendly as a porcupine who’d lost a fight with a cactus. Seriously.
“Want some?” I held out the container, positive I could win him over with a friendly smile.
Wrong.
“No, I don’t want to share germs with you, but thank you for asking,” he replied, a thunderous expression on his pinched face. “What I would appreciate is for you to replace my orange juice and maybe add a sticker to remind yourself not to touch it next time.”
“Oh, shit. This is yours?”
“It was,” he corrected.
“I’m sorry, man. I’ll make it up to you. Let me buy you breakfast.”
“No, thanks. I have class.”
Now, that could have been taken one of two ways: A, I have class and would never drink out of a carton in my boxer briefs and a holey T-shirt while smelling like the south end of a northbound mule. Or B, I have a Biology lecture to attend.
Yeah, I was getting A vibes, too.
Rafe spun on his heels, marched out of the room, and stomped up the stairs. And unless I was way off the mark, he’d closed his bedroom door with more force than usual. Yep…he was pissed.
Again.
I hoped it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I’d caught a hint of true animosity in his glare this time. The sort of steely-eyed venom I associated with opponents doing battle on the ice in the middle of a heated game. Not my fucking roommate.
Shit.
Did Rafe hate me?
about the author:
Lane Hayes lives in sunny Southern California with her amazing husband, who thankfully doesn’t mind cooking, and their fabulous fox red Labrador, George, who’s pure mischief. Both provide oodles of inspiration for the low-angst, humorous books Lane loves to write. She’s been telling stories about sexy, funny, sometimes geeky and quirky men who find love for a dozen years now and loving every minute. In her previous life, she sat at a desk and dealt with numbers, so yes…romance is much more satisfying! Lane loves tea, travel, and chocolate…in any order. Add a book and she’s set!
With his CEO father away, Benjamin
Whitaker III is left running the family empire. And, you know, trying not to
implode from anxiety while he’s at it.
Local investigative reporter Jackson
James smells something fishy going on at Whitaker Seafood, and it’s definitely
not just the mackerel.
One’s trying to keep things clean and
tidy. The other’s digging up some serious dirt.
This year, Silver Shoals
isn’t dreaming of a white Christmas. Just a low stress week, a front page
headline, and a way out of this very merry
fish-mess.
Baby, It’s Cod
Outside is a low heat, opposites attract, hurt/comfort,
small town MM holiday romance. It can be read as a standalone.
Ben’s parked outside the used
bookstore downtown, motor idling, the radioactive binder sitting in his lap.
Snowflakes drift lazily by the windshield. The scene is pretty and painfully
indifferent. He checks his watch again: 10:43 pm, still seventeen minutes
early. Because of course he is. Panic loves punctuality.
He
stares down his reflection in the mirror, telling himself that this is a person
about to take back control.
The reflection does not look
convinced.
Here, Ben’s anxiety helpfully starwipes to
another slide in the ongoing horror-powerpoint entitled ‘Absolute Worst
Outcomes of this Meeting’ that’s cycling in his brain: Jackson simply laughs at
him and tells him to stop wasting his time.
He’s mid-fantasy about reversing down
the block when knuckles rap suddenly against his driver’s side window. Ben
flinches hard enough to head-butt the visor.
Window down, cold air in, along with
Jackson James: snow-flecked hair, eyes crinkling above a scarf wrapped high
against the chill. “Evening. Are you planning on loitering out here all night,
or just until someone calls the neighborhood watch?”
“I didn’t realize you were already
here. Thanks again for meeting me, Mr. James. And, uh, sorry about the dating
app thing. It was kind of a desperation move.”
“‘Desperation move,’ huh?” Jackson
repeats with obvious delight. Ben silently blesses the scarf for obscuring
Jackson’s too handsome face, even as another, less helpful part of him regrets
missing out on seeing that smile in full. “Exactly how every guy dreams of
being described.”
Ben’s laugh cracks like ice. “I
didn’t mean it like that. Obviously. I just didn’t really have a lot of
options. Not that you’re a last resort. I just meant you’re...special.” He
closes his eyes, briefly debating jumping out and running directly into the
ocean. “Specialized! I mean specialized. Your skillset.” His brain is begging
his mouth to stop to little avail.
A faint snort escapes Jackson. “Keep
digging, Fish Prince. At this rate, we’ll hit bedrock in no time.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been... a lot today.
I just meant you’re unattached. Er, professionally unattached. To Whitaker
Seafood.” He forces himself to slow down. “You’re not connected to any of this
and it seemed like yesterday… that you thought something was wrong. And it is.
Something is very wrong. So I thought... I don’t know, maybe you were the
person that could help.” He ducks his head, voice quieter now. “But if this was
dumb, I get it. I can go.”
Ben braces for rejection.
Instead, Jackson’s posture shifts,
some of the sharpness softening. “Hey. I’m not blowing you off,
alright?”
And then, almost too casually, just rough enough,
Jackson adds, “If anything, Mr. Whitaker, you’ve got my full attention.”
Ben
swears the temperature spikes. Jackson’s gaze tracks over him, slow,
deliberate, borderline indecent, before landing on the binder in his lap. Ben’s
fingers twitch, instinctively drawing it closer.
Jackson gestures toward the
bookstore. “Maybe we should take this inside?” he says, low and easy, like it’s
just a suggestion and that everything that happens next is in Ben’s hands. Like
the faint possibility, of what, Ben isn’t even sure, doesn’t spark a confusing
mix of panic and excitement in his stomach.
Jackson steps back to give Ben room,
rubbing his gloved hands briskly. “Before I lose my best typing fingers to
frostbite, preferably.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kat Cassidy is a romance novelist.
She’s a dreamer, a schemer and, above all else, a believer in true love. She
lives in Canada with her husband, her kids, and her lovable mutt, and she likes
loud guitars and strong IPAs.
With his CEO father away, Benjamin Whitaker III is left running the family empire. And, you know, trying not
to implode from anxiety while he’s at it.
Local investigative reporter Jackson James smells something fishy going on at Whitaker Seafood, and it’s
definitely not just the mackerel.
One’s trying to keep things clean and tidy. The other’s digging up some serious dirt.
This year, Silver Shoals isn’t dreaming of a white Christmas. Just a low stress week, a front page
headline, and a way out of this very merry fish-mess.
Baby, It’s Cod Outside is a
low heat, opposites attract, hurt/comfort, small town MM holiday romance. It can be read as a standalone.
Kat Cassidy is a romance novelist. She’s a dreamer, a schemer and, above
all else, a believer in true love. She lives in Canada with her husband, her kids, and her lovable mutt, and she
likes loud guitars and strong IPAs.
