Corey wondered if Santa was an Arctic wolf after all. He’d wondered ever since a fake jaguar Santa had come to visit the kids at the jaguar shifter daycare and asked what they wanted for Christmas. He knew that Santa couldn’t have been real because Santa was from the North Pole and weren’t the Arctic wolves from there too? The jaguars he had met had never been in the snow, so it made sense.
And yet here it was Christmas Eve, snowing in Minnesota, and he was home with his family–his mother and father, his brother and sister, and his uncles. He’d asked Santa for one thing for Christmas–to be home with his family. And now he was.
So maybe the Santa in the sleigh flying across the sky, highlighted by the full moon, was truly the jaguar Santa that had asked him just what he had wanted for Christmas.
Maybe there were two of them. A jaguar shifter and a wolf shifter who brought gifts to all the girls and boys, depending on if they were a wolf or a jaguar. But he’d had the most special gift of all. And this time it was from a jolly old jaguar Santa, who, with a twinkle of merriment in his blue eyes, had said he’d get his wish and more. And he was right.
Demetria is feeling blue, but she and Tammy, Everett’s sister, get together for drinks and movies, but when one of the ladies drops a glass on the floor, Everett comes over to ensure the two of them are okay. So much for the start of his vacation. But he’s fine with it, as long as it affords him the chance to see Demetria again. Little does he know, the next morning when he gets a call from his mother at her jaguar daycare, their whole jaguar shifter world will change forever and he and Demetria will be given the assignment that will challenge them to the end in A Very Jaguar Christmas.
Bo-Bo wasn’t the smartest dog on the block, but my Aunt Helen and Uncle Matt loved him like the son they never had. They pampered him with doggie treats, fed him human table scraps and gave him doggie breath mints.
He was not a small dog, being a mixed breed with part Labrador Retriever, Irish Setter, and who-knows-what. It was the Labrador Retriever part that caused a heap of trouble one fateful Christmas Day back when I was a kid.
My parents, sister and I had shown up for Christmas dinner at my Aunt and Uncle’s house at noon as was our family tradition. We exchanged gifts, joyful conversation and munched on appetizers as we waited for the delicious turkey dinner to be served at 3:00.
At 1:00 Bo-Bo howled at the backdoor to go out. Uncle Matt opened the door and Bo-Bo dashed away without his leash. He was free to roam the neighborhood on Christmas Day and we should’ve chased after him, but Aunt Helen brought out the shrimp cocktail, veggie dip and a pile of homemade candies. With so much eating to be done we forgot all about Bo-Bo. At 3:00 Uncle Matt carved up the turkey and I was asked to call the dog in for his plate of table scraps. I called and called and called for Bo-Bo, but there was no response. Aunt Helen called for him and so did Uncle Matt, but the dog was nowhere to be found.
We ate without him and we were in the middle of enjoying my mother’s homemade deserts when we heard Bo-Bo barking at the back door. I’ll never forget my Aunt’s cry of alarm when she went to get Bo-Bo. “Oh my goodness Bo-Bo! What’ve you done?” All of us rushed to see what Bo-Bo had done and it was indeed a curious surprise!
Bo-Bo’s teeth were clamped proudly on an entire cooked turkey! He shook his head and bits of stuffing were tossed out of the bird’s cavity. A piece of tinfoil was wrapped on the end of one big leg and there was a metal temperature gauge stabbed in the turkey’s chest. Bo-Bo had mauled off one wing and ripped apart the other. He dropped the turkey to his feet and barked for us to acknowledge his extraordinary hunting success. He’d after all brought home Christmas dinner.
We stared in complete amazement and quickly surmised what had apparently happened; somebody in the neighborhood had put their turkey out on the back porch to cool and Bo-Bo had stolen their scrumptious turkey complete with all the fix’ns.
Aunt Helen closed the backdoor and left Bo-Bo to dine alone on his stolen feast. We returned to eating our deserts and ate in silence. But when I could contain myself no longer I finally had to ask, “So what do you suppose those people had for Christmas dinner?”
It has always been and will forever remain an unsolved mystery. I smile whenever I think about The Dog Who Stole Christmas. And I often wonder… What we would do if it had happened to us?
***
Okay, I have to say that I had a standard poodle that stole our roast. Not even a scrap of aluminum foil was left. It had been sitting on our kitchen counter ready to serve up when I was checking on the kids. It always reminded me of A Christmas Story.
So did you enjoy her story? I did. I bet the people who had left their turkey out to cool off never did that again!
You thought I was going to say Santa and the elves, didn’t you? But the fairies create havoc with everything I do, so I figured I’d hedge my bets and mention them instead. I was at a luncheon in Old Spring and it was a gloomy, rainy day, and when I say rain, I mean, icy cold rain all day. But not to be thwarted as I never get down there and I wanted to see if they had anything unique for Christmas gifts, I trudged through the puddles of water in the rain, and every shop was just as cold as I was.
In Salado, also an old Texas town that reminds me a little of Old Spring, the shops would be filled with the fragrance of wassail, Christmas cinnamon spices, or coffee. Not here. The shops would sport a Christmas tree, each having its own beautiful theme.
But not here. When I reached the German Gift House, they had mulled wine and German cookies, and best of all a genuine, beautiful Old Saint Nick. I was wet, cold and my hair was a mess from wearing the hood up on my raincoat for two hours in the rain, and when they asked if I wanted my picture taken with Santa, I said no. Then they talked me into it, and I was so glad they did. My dad’s paternal grandparents were German, Wilde, which means wild. Here we thought he was a wild Irishman, but he was a wild German instead. The Irish and Scottish and French, and the German Cremers/Cramer were on my mother’s side.
I felt that the rain would turn to snow at any second, I was so cold. It was perfect to get me in the mood for writing more on Loving the White Bear. I’m glad they convinced me to take that shot with the best looking, most realistic Santa I’ve ever met. I’d never had mulled wine before, and it did help to warm me up a bit, and after buying a couple of lovely German ornaments for my daughter and son-in-law’s tree and my son’s, I was off, trudging through the cold rain again.
But I didn’t need to shop any more, looking for that special Christmas gift. I had already found it. A little bit of Christmas, German style, on a cold, rainy day in Texas.
The winner will receive the following Sourcebooks Casablanca titles:
A Cowboy Firefighter for Christmas by Kim Redford Mistletoe Between Friends / The Snowflake Inn by Samantha Chase A Very Jaguar Christmas by Terry Spear A Cowboy Christmas Miracle by Carolyn Brown True-Blue Cowboy Christmas by Nicole Helm
Note from Author: It’s based on a true story and it appears in my novel, Bamboo Ring, the prequel to Ghost Orchid. I wish to promote Ghost Orchid. However, anyone purchasing a print copy of Ghost Orchid can send me proof of purchase and for a shipping and handling cost of $4, U.S. only, I will send a free copy of Bamboo Ring.
D. K. Christi, M.Ed., CWDP
Consultant, Speaker, Author & Journalist
Member, Authors Guild & Naples Press Club
“Jeremy’s assigned ship at Christmas, an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean Sea, represented an impossible distance from my friend, Shirley, who attended college stateside. Jeremy’s naval service during Vietnam kept them apart. Letters traveled painfully slow and often crossed.
“However, a plan emerged. Derek and I lived in Germany in a small, garret apartment off base. If Jeremy could get leave over the Christmas holiday, Shirley would visit us. The plan had challenges, nebulous at best. First, as the most junior man in his division, Jeremy knew the officer in charge would not promise him leave until the time approached. Coupled with the slow mail deliveries, Shirley never knew for sure if or when he would be able to make it to Germany. On faith, Shirley got her passport and plane ticket and joined us.
“On December 21, Jeremy’s ship pulled into Cannes, France for the Christmas holiday. The Navy granted Jeremy a four-day pass with written permission from the Executive Officer to travel to Germany. December 23 represented a ship workday. He got ready so he could get off the ship as early as possible the next day.
“Christmas Eve day arrived. Traveling military personnel in Europe were required to wear the uniform for identification. They were allowed to cross boarders without a passport if they carried the proper documentation. By 10:00 a.m. at last, Jeremy had permission to leave the ship and take the boat ride to fleet landing. Once ashore, it did not take long to make it to the train station for the short ride to Nice.
“Shortly after noon, a flight headed north to Bern, Switzerland. There he suffered the frustration of a long wait in the terminal for the next connecting flight. Switzerland as a neutral country behaved equally suspicious of servicemen from any country. An official told him and the other servicemen who were also traveling that they had to wait in a special roped off area, Jeremy’s view of Switzerland.
“Finally, he boarded the next plane to Stuttgart, Germany. On this short flight darkness arrived as they flew over the Alps. In Stuttgart after a short layover, the same plane would go on to Frankfurt. When he touched down in Frankfurt, the darkness and quiet felt like a mausoleum. Everything stops for the Christmas holiday in Germany. All native Germans were home celebrating. He found a pay phone and managed to call for a taxi for the airport and the train station.
“Forty miles north of Frankfurt, reaching Butzbach required a train or car. At the nearly deserted train station, Jeremy saw a train and one worker. He approached and still remembers what he said, ‘ Ist das der Zuge geht zu Butzbach?’ ‘Ja, ja. Shnell, shnell’ replied the worker. Jeremy ran and jumped aboard. No sooner had he climbed the steps to a passenger compartment than the train began to move.
“He breathed a sigh of relief and sat near another service man that happened to be on the coach. In a little while, a conductor came by asking for tickets. Jeremy had no ticket; but with a little negotiation in his broken German, he paid double the cost of the usual fare.
“Except for the ghosts, an uneventful train ride took him the rest of the way. The train stopped at two small stations. At each, a few bare light bulbs illuminated an old wooden platform. Imagining German soldiers in uniform saying good-bye for maybe the last time as they headed to battle occupied Jeremy’s stressed mind. The quiet eeriness of those stations made such visualization effortless.
“At last the conductor announced, “Butzbach!” The Butzbach station had a small platform and no visible terminal building. However, Jeremy had directions as to how to find our apartment. A short walk from the train to the center of the town took him back at least five hundred years.
“Built around a cobblestone square with the remains of the old well in the center, Butzbach looked like a picture postcard with buildings trimmed in gingerbread from a Brothers Grimm fairytale. All around the square, the steep roofed buildings were all fashioned of timber and stucco. Off the square to the right, a narrow alleyway led to the Piccolo Bar with a small neon sign over the door, the landmark Jeremy needed.
“He entered and found the tavern room filled with mostly American soldiers drinking noisily. One loud mouth wanted to pick a fight with Jeremy just because he wore a Naval uniform. Fortunately, when he heard that Jeremy had traveled a long way to visit an Army friend, he backed off and went back to his drinking.
“The woman behind the bar, the owner and the mother of my German friend, left the bar and took him up the three narrow flights of stairs to our apartment and knocked. No answer. They returned to the bar again. A young German fellow standing at the bar suggested that maybe we were at the Kirke. They could see it not far away.
“Around a few corners and down a little way, there stood the old Lutheran church, by far the largest building in the town. The German Lutheran Church, a 17th century building with exquisite high spire sand stained glass windows had a high stone wall around the outside with a wrought iron gate.
“Jeremy’s new German friend took him to the door, and they peeked inside. People filled the sanctuary with no room inside. He did not see us. The next best thing, he stood by the gate. When the
Christmas Eve service ended, everyone would pass through the gate. Jeremy waited. In a short time, bells rang out for midnight. People poured from the church, walking four and five abreast. The full moon clouded over briefly as huge white snowflakes began drifting down, sparkling like new diamonds.
“Shirley had been in Germany for three days already. She had heard nothing from Jeremy and anxiously waited for his arrival. In church that night, she enjoyed the music but could understand nothing of the rest of the service. So, she prayed. As she prayed, she found peace within herself. She came to understand that if Jeremy could not make it to Germany, everything would still turn out as God intended, her thoughts as she left the church.
“Then Jeremy spotted Shirley, a slim figure in her blue wool coat and tan beret. The ancient gate, decorated by the drifting snow, framed Jeremy in his dress blues. He let out a yell and grabbed Shirley around the waist, lifted her off the ground and smothered her with kisses. The crazy sailor and dark-haired American girl were a strange sight to the German parishioners passing by, but Jeremy and Shirley did not care. Christmas had begun!
“Big, white snowflakes covered the wall and the ground; yet, even with the snow falling, the moon still peeked out enough to spread more diamonds across the glistening snow. The best white of all, however, perched on top of Jeremy’s head, framed in the gate, as he swooped Shirley into his arms. With a wave to us, they disappeared toward the station for his bags. In true German tradition, we left to haul home our already purchased Christmas tree.
“By the time Jeremy and Shirley arrived, freshly lit candles on the Christmas tree spread a warm glow across our tiny apartment on the third floor above the Piccolo Bar. The Christmas tree decorations included carved ornaments from German craftsmen. The best glow, however, came from the faces of the engaged couple whose faith in the Christmas season had seen them through the anxiety of finding each other on the moonlit night, the first snowfall of the season, and a Christmas miracle to remember.”
* * *
Hope that you have enjoyed D.K. Christi’s story! I love true stories!
While snow fell outside coating the ground in a blanket of white, inside the Siberian Alpha’s lodge a different kind of snow fell as Katya, Karina, and Illarion make Christmas cookies for the Alpha and his mate.
“Babushka – Grandma, Illarion is going too fast. I can’t keep up with him,” five year old Karina complained glaring at Illarion, the boy who in the future would be her twin sister Katya’s mate. The three of them stood around the table in the kitchen. Karina’s grandmother, Yelena, looked over, but went back to playing with their new baby sister, Vera.
“Me do, me do,” their three year old little brother Rurik demanded as he jumped up and down at the edge of the table. His dark hair fell around his face while his blue eyes begged to be included. Illarion winked at Rurik.
“Rurik,” Yelena called. “Could you get me the diaper bag? Vera needs changing.” The little boy ran to his grandmother across the room.
She whispered something in his ear and he grinned widely before scampering off to find the bag full of diapers.
“You don’t have to be so exacting, Karina. Just roll the cookie in the sugar,” Illarion said, leaning over to plop another ball into the bowl of powdered sugar.
“It has to be evenly coated. You wouldn’t want a cookie only partially covered.” Karina dipped her fingers back into the bowl of sugar and rolled the cookie balls around making sure each one was dusted. “It has to be done properly! Katya, tell him.” Karina looked at her twin sister, hoping for back up.
“Karina,” Katya sighed, “Would you like me to help you with the powdered sugar?” Katya took the sugar covered balls out of the bowl and set them in rows on the cooking sheets.
“No, I can do it. I want to surprise Mom and Dad when they get back. Mom said Russian Tea Cakes are her favorite Christmas cookies.”
Illarion wrinkled his nose. Katya glanced over at him and chuckled.
Karina frowned wondering if they spoke telepathically to each other. It was hard sharing Katya with the older Illarion. He was so irritating at times, acting like he knew better than Karina what her twin was thinking. Katya was her sister.
“What? You don’t like Russian Tea Cakes?” Karina asked.
“I like all the food that comes out of this kitchen, isn’t that right, Yelena?” Illarion asked, walking over to the sink and washing his hands.
Karina looked over and realized that only a few cookies were left to be dusted. Katya pulled over one more cooking sheet and began to fill it.
“Oh, yes, Illarion. You eat everything.” Yelena wrapped the baby back up in a blanket and then kissed Vera on the nose.
“We’re almost done, Babushka. Karina only has six or so to go.” Katya said.
“Leave the trays of cookies, I’ll deal with them after I lay your sister down for her nap.” Both Karina and Katya nodded.
“Katya, I thought of a gift for your parents,” Illarion said, his light blond hair falling across his eyes. He swiped it out of the way. “If, you and Karina want to do it?”
“What?” Karina asked. Did he really have a good idea or was he teasing again?
“I thought I could take your picture on the camera your Mom bought me for my birthday. You could make a nice frame and give the picture to them for Christmas.”
“Wow, that sounds great,” Katya said. “What do you think, Karina? Mom and Dad won’t be home until dark. We could go outside and take a few pictures once you’re done coating the last cookies.”
Karina thought a moment, and then picked up her pace with the dough balls. Mom loved pictures and Dad loved whatever made Mom happy. “Okay. All done,” she said and wiped her hands on a towel. “Let’s go, if it’s all right with you, Babushka?”
“Go. I’ve got my hands full with your little brother and sister. Don’t forget a wrap,” Yelena called after the children running out the back door. She shook her head and ruffled Rurik’s hair. “Don’t worry Rurik, I have a project you can help me with once Vera is asleep.”
I hope you liked this little excerpt from the lives of the Volkov Children. For more information on the Siberian Volkov Pack Romance Series, go to http://CarynMoyaBlock.com. I’ve included the recipe for the Russian Tea Cakes below. Enjoy!
Sift flour and salt together. (Set aside) Using electric mixer, cream butter in large bowl until light. Gradually add 1/2 cup sugar and beat until fluffy. Add vanilla. Mix in dry ingredients in 3 batches. (One third at a time) Mix in hazelnuts. Refrigerate at least 1 hour or up to 12 hours.
Preheat oven to 400°F. Form dough into 1-inch balls. Space 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake until just firm to touch, about 15 minutes. Transfer to rack and cool slightly. Roll in powdered sugar. Cool completely. Roll cookies in powdered sugar again. Store in airtight container.
Lycan’s Mate
Book Twelve of the Siberian Volkov Pack Romance Series
Cross-Over to Shadow Walker Romance Series.
Gwen Quiet Thunder has fought against her Lycan roots her whole life. She didn’t want anything to do with the wolf inside her and couldn’t fathom finding a mate in a Lycan. She thought all Lycan men were like the boy who terrorized her while growing up, mean, cruel, and aggressive. So when the mating bond snaps into place with her future brother-in-law, there’s only one thing to do. Run.
Mischa Sokolov, Siberian Lycan is thrilled to find his future sister-in-law is also his mate. She may be having some problems accepting the inevitable, but he never expected her to run and put an ocean between them. The more he tries to connect with her, the more she pushes him away. But Lycans only get one heartmate and mate for life. He’s going to have to prove to Gwen that she can trust him with her heart or lose the one woman meant to be his.
Jess looks forward to a holiday season of saving puppies and
working at the shelter. With her new sister-in-law taking over the Yuletide
Gathering, it’s run for the hills or wind up covered in glitter. What she
doesn’t anticipate is her brother lining up yet another in a long string of
bodyguards. She might be a wolf who can’t shift, but that doesn’t mean she
needs anyone’s protection. When things heat up during the festivities, she
finds herself face to face with the one man who just might hold the key to her
heart.
It was supposed to be a two-week Ops for ridding the world
of hybrid wolves, not a babysitting gig for the spoiled sister of the Westmore
Pack Alpha. But when Thorne sets eyes on the curvy brunette, he finds a fierce
beauty with a soft interior just begging to be tamed, and he’s just the
gargoyle to do it.
Hello everyone and happy holidays! Thank you for joining me on my tour of Mistletoe Kisses, the fifth book in the Westmore Wolves series. All the books can be read as stand alone but if you want to read them in order…
1. Wicked For You
2. Heart’s Protector
3. Burning for You
4. Taming the Beast
5. Mistletoe Kisses
6. Under Cover of Darkness (coming 2017)
Check out the Westmore Wolves FB Page and Like it to keep up with new releases!
This holiday season we visit a wolf with a penchant for Christmas cookies and peppermint bark. Nab a copy of Mistletoe Kisses and leave a review for a chance to win a copy of my next book in the series! Leave a comment with your Amazon kindle or Goodreads name and link to the review and tell me your favorite Christmas cookie. I’m getting a new oven on Saturday after a year with no oven and I’m super excited!
Giveaway open from December 1-31.
Excerpt:
Thorne sat across the desk from his new employer and tried unsuccessfully to shake away the incredulous feeling gnawing at his gut. He’d come to Westmore with the understanding that this would be a two-week Ops mission to locate and destroy the violent hybrid wolves he’d been hearing about. They a role to play in his father’s death, he was certain of it, and now he could finally get the answers he was seeking and kill a few in the process. But, as he sat across from the Westmore Pack Alpha, he found himself staring at the man, completely disbelieving his ears.
“That wasn’t the job.”
“I want her protected.” Thorne met Carrick’s eyes, and Thorne struggled to hold in his frustration. This was why he’d been brought to the famed Westmore Estate? The Alpha was legendary for taking down his predecessors with nothing but brains and his own two hands…but to suggest he babysit a female? He was no one’s nanny.
“You want me to be a bodyguard? For a woman?” Thorne sputtered and erupted from the chair, stalking to the window. He kept one eye on the comings and goings outside and another on the man behind the desk. Thorne had come at night, as requested, to see the estate at its most vulnerable. What he hadn’t expected was to be insulted.
“Not just a woman. My sister. And the job is a trial period for two weeks.”
“And after?”
The Alpha thrummed his fingers on the desk. “We’ll talk about that if you’re still here.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
The door opened and another man entered, closing it behind him. Thorne eyed the man and waited to be introduced. The pinched look of the other man’s mouth and worry lines in his face indicated he cared about this woman. Interesting.
“Where is she?” the Alpha demanded.
“Probably at the shelter again. She’s not in her room and the guard at the front gate said she took off around eight this morning. Something about an adoption drive at Barks.”
“Thorne, this is Reid, my second in command.” Carrick ran his hand through his mane of dark hair and frowned. “Jesus, she knows I want her to be careful. I keep telling her to quit, but she won’t listen. After what happened with that fucking dragon…”
The other man, Reid, unconsciously rubbed at his arm.
“You were injured.” Thorne stepped away from the window and moved deeper into the room. He could sense their unease. Perhaps something more was happening here than met the eye.
“I was.”
Dragons? Now that was interesting.
“I was told there were hybrid wolves.”
“Originally, that was the contract. Yes.” Carrick rose from the chair, came around the desk, and leaned against it. “But we’ve come to find out that the previous alpha may still have some support out there.”
“A dragon?” Thorne raised an eyebrow. Dragon kind and Night Wing gargoyles were not on friendly terms. Territorial disputes in his homeland had made them natural enemies. But here? That would remain to be seen. Not that he would mind tangling with one.
“An old bastard of a firefighter, too. Seemed like he was setting more blazes at the end rather than putting them down.” Carrick’s lips thinned and his jaw clenched. “He endangered the life of my mate.”
Thorne considered the Alpha carefully.
“If you’ve rooted him out, then why am I here?”
“He’s not the only one,” Reid bit out. “We know there are more out there. What remains to be seen are when and where they choose to rear their ugly heads.”
“Why don’t you go to them?” It seemed a simple question, but the shuttered looks from the men in front of him stopped the suggestion before it could go any further.
“The Yule Gathering is coming and I want no complications. Likely as not, there are more of them out there and I won’t take a chance with my mate, my sister, or my pack. I spoke with your last employer and he said you were the best, most unobtrusive operative he had.”
“I am.”
And Thorne could find the creatures the Alpha sought. All he had to do was give the command.
Thorne wasn’t boasting. It was the truth. People paid for his work and paid him well.
“Good,” Reid snorted. “If you’re tailing Jess, you’re going to need it.”
“Is she your mate, this…Jess?”
“No.” A shade of pink crept up the sides of the other man’s face. “More like…a sister, if you want to know the truth.”
The Alpha sighed. “And she’s stubborn.”
“Yeah…”
The two men glanced at each other, a pregnant pause filling the room. Any information withheld could jeopardize Thorne meeting whatever goal they had in mind.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Her last bodyguard didn’t make it longer than a day.” Carrick closed his eyes, a twitch of humor playing at his lips.
This ought to be good.
“May I ask why?”
“He, ugh…went up in flames.” Reid coughed, but underneath the sound Thorne was certain he heard a note of laughter.
Flames?
“What did she do, torch him?”
“Not exactly.” Carrick cleared his throat and turned his face away in what Thorne was sure was an effort to compose himself.
Were they hinting he couldn’t handle a woman? It didn’t sound like she needed protection in the least.
Thorne’s lips curved up in a humorless smile. “If she’s such a force of nature, then why the protection? I thought your females were fierce.”
Reid met Carrick’s gaze and the Alpha cleared his throat until his second glanced away, his eyes finding Thorne’s.
“Tell him.”
“She can’t shift.” The Alpha sighed.
Reid crossed his arms over his chest. “Won’t shift. There’s a difference. She can but she doesn’t want to.”
“I don’t accept that.” Carrick pushed off from the desk and went to the window.
“Well, you’d better start. You and I both know that bastard damaged her. She may be strong for a female, but her wolf is broken,” Reid replied, his tone filled with frustration.
Thorne’s stomach lurched at the thought. To hear that her beast had been harmed was unacceptable. War with men he understood well, but not females. Women being abused made his skin crawl. He’d seen much in his line of work, but that was one thing he would not tolerate. It took a good bit of doing to squelch an animal. He should know.
“What happened?”
“You’ve heard what took place here? What the previous alpha did? The atrocities and the genetic experiments?” Reid asked with a bitter twist of his lips.
“I have. The overthrow of the previous regime was unavoidable. Your prowess in battle is legendary.” He nodded to Carrick in a show of respect. He’d found the main source but some of the tendrils remained. And he fucking wanted to tear out the rest of them by the roots. That was why he came here.
Reid shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. He took them…the girls. The women. He…”
“Stop.” Carrick’s voice was strained and his stance was tense. “We don’t need to hash out any of the details.”
He didn’t.
About the author:
Erzabet Bishop is an
award-winning and bestselling author who loves to write naughty stories. She is
the author of Lipstick, Crave, Snow (Three Times More Lucky Box Set),
Malediction (A Wicked Halloween Box Set), Map of Bones (A Wicked Affair Box
Set), Sanguine Shadows (Vampire Bites Box Set), The Science of Lust, Wicked for
You, Heart’s Protector, Burning for You, Taming the Beast, Mistletoe Kisses,
Surrender, Under Cover of Darkness (2017), Three for Two (2017), Hedging Her
Bets, Cat’s Got Her Tongue (Alpha Heat Box Set), Kitten Around (upcoming),
Torment (Feb 2017), Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell,
Mallory’s Mark (upcoming),The Devil’s Due (upcoming), Charity Benshaw’s Enchanted
Paddle Emporium (upcoming), Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas,
The Black Magic Café, Sweet Seductions, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane
Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor
to many anthologies. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and
can often be found lurking in local bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty
crochet projects and watch monster movies.
For the new release of Double Cougar Trouble, and then I had fun with creating one for Vexing the Highlander. And then my publisher produced one for Winning the Highlander’s Heart! So just grab a bag of popcorn, and a soda, and have fun! For a few minutes. lol
I can still remember my Christmas Eves as a child as if they were yesterday. It was always the same thing: an agonizing wait for Dad to get home from work, a hurried light supper, and then the anticipated trip to Grandpa’s farm.
Grandpa Carlson was retired and living on a few acres where he had some pasture land, a coop of chickens, a cow, and a big mix-bred mongrel named Sam.
Grandpa lived by himself in a small white-frame house nestled in a valley with towering snow-covered hills on both sides. Grandma Carlson had died years before my brothers or I were born.
I can remember dad pointing up the road through the flurry of snowflakes and announcing that Grandpa’s house was at the next turn-off. My heart always started to beat faster when we approached the drive.
The house looked like a picture on a Christmas card. Smoke from the wood stove curled up through the dark night. Dim light from kerosene lanterns showed through the frost-coated windows making the interior appear warm and cozy.
Sam always lumbered out to the car his backend wagging furiously, begging for a pat or an affectionate hug.
There was always a path dutifully shoveled for us and I can still hear Grandpa’s loud, happy laughter call out even before the door was opened. My aunt would flutter about receiving packages and making sure everyone was warm and comfortable. My brothers and I each got a strong hug from Grandpa. I always took a deep breath inhaling the familiar pipe tobacco smell in his clothes.
A stone coffee pot set on a glowing grate on the wood stove in the kitchen. Coffee aroma wafted throughout the house mixed with the enticing smells of fresh baked bread and rolls.
Immediately, I went to the Christmas tree cut but a few days before in the pasture and decorated with strings of cranberries, popcorn and Christmas balls handed down from generation to generation. I thought it was the most beautiful tree ever.
Grandpa passed around the usual bowl of candy corn and jelly beans and laughed and talked excitedly. His eyes sparkled and his face was crinkled with happiness.
After a cold glass of milk and a newly baked sweet roll, Grandpa would take center stage and in his broken Swedish accent, tell us about his Christmases as a child in Sweden. Everyone listened and laughed at the appropriate places even though we had heard the stories many times before.
And then as the big pendulum clock on the wall chimed eight o’clock, my brothers and I would look at each other and smile with knowing anticipation. Grandpa would light his pipe and cock his head to one side as if he had heard something mysterious outside. Brushing back the curtain, he would turn to us and nod: “He’s here!” he would proclaim.
Then, he would turn and stride from the room. We all sat silent listening to the clack of the closing of the screen door on the porch and the whistling of the night wind.
And then, not five minutes later, Santa came through the same door that Grandpa had left. Santa had the same clothes, the same stained old felt hat pulled low over his eyes, and the same pipe stuck between his teeth as did Grandpa. In fact, the only thing different from Grandpa was a scraggily cotton beard hanging from his chin. Santa had a thick Swedish accent and the same merry twinkle in his eyes and his clothes gave off the same pleasant tobacco smell as Grandpa. But, he went right to work presenting us all with a bag of hard Christmas candy and a shiny silver dollar.
We all hated to see Santa turn and leave, but we knew he must. Perhaps, in those days children were more naïve and innocent or perhaps we knew very well that Santa Claus was Grandpa. But, they were so much alike in giving and loving that they were one and the same in our eyes.
When Grandpa died many years ago, I asked for his pipe in remembrance. And every Christmas Eve since, I look at it and remember back to those many Christmas eves years ago and think about my Santa Claus Grandpa.
(Nolan Carlson: Vinspire Author)
SUMMER AND SHINER is a great adventure story of youthful adventure set in the Flint Hills of Kansas. It makes marvelous reading for middle school boys and girls. Throughout the book, in Huck Finn fashion, Carley experiences the adventures of a boy growing into manhood. The inseparable friendship of Carley’s Native American blood brother, Troop, along with a pet racoon named Shiner, constitutes a barrel filled with adventure, danger, and fun. Travel back with Carley to a simpler time….a time for growing up, adventures and SUMMER AND SHINER!
Melinda had always wanted to be a Santa’s helper. At twenty-five, it seemed like a silly childhood dream.
Snowflakes danced on the breeze, landing on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. She shivered and sipped from the red ceramic mug she’d just purchased at the garden center’s gift shop along with hot cider. The owners of Foxgloves were Scottish and all the greenery was decorated with tartan ribbon and bows.
Wandering past rows of Christmas trees, the sharp scent of fir, along with apple and cinnamon from the cider, reminded her of Christmases long past. She missed her family. Felt alone in this new mountain town.
In the center of the display garden, a Christmas village had been erected. Young men, dressed in kilts and tunics and wearing elf hats, used hand puppets to entertain children waiting their turn to sit on Santa’s lap and give the white-bearded man their Christmas wish lists.
Melinda couldn’t help but ogle the guys’ muscular legs exposed to the chilly air. She’d be covered in goose bumps if she—
“Lass, would you be so kind as to help me with a medieval skit?”
She lifted her gaze from a firm pair of masculine legs, up a tight body, to very kissable lips that broadened into a grin. Blue eyes glinted with humor. Heat burned her cheeks. And it wasn’t from the steam rising from the red mug.
“Aren’t you cold?” she blurted. “I mean, of course, I’d be happy to help.” Gosh. She sounded silly.
“My name is Tevin,” he said.
“Mine is Melinda.”
“Pretty name.”
He handed her a puppet depicting a faerie princess and another a fair maiden and introduced her to the crowd as Santa’s Helper Melinda. She then joined him in an improvised skit where the faerie princess bestowed magic powers upon a warrior who slayed a dragon and won the hand of the fair maiden.
The children clapped.
“That was fun,” she said as they walked away from the Christmas village to a secluded picnic table.
“It was.” He pulled a flask out of his sporran. “I’m finished for the night. Would you care for some whisky?”
“Um. Sure.”
He poured a small measure of the amber liquid into the red mug and handed it over. She sipped the drink and smiled. How could she let him know of her interest in him without feeling a fool?
Tevin took the mug from her hand and drank from the spot her lips had touched. “I like the taste of your lips. May I?”
The intent glowing in his eyes near to burned her. Her stomach shimmied. Still, she nodded.
His arm encircled her waist; drew her close. The touch of his lips against hers was soft. Gentle. Stole her breath. Became demanding. She dropped the empty red mug into the snow and wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering to the magic of his Christmas kiss.
Dawn’s book is now available! Hope you have enjoyed her story!! 🙂 Thanks to Dawn for sharing with us!
Trish made the best ever gingerbread cookies this year, just for Santa. Why? She hoped this Christmas, Santa would bring her a daddy. Not just any kind of daddy, but a fun-loving cougar daddy. One who would run with her brother and her through the woods with their mommy, and who would go swimming with them too. Course her twin brother, Jeff, wanted their daddy to ride horses with them when they went to Hal and Tracey Haverton’s horse ranch too.
Mommy said they needed to ask for something other than a daddy because Santa, even a cougar Santa, couldn’t always find the right daddy for a family who needed one.
And Mommy was right. Christmas came and no daddy was sitting under the Christmas tree.
Trish sighed. She wasn’t giving up. So her New Year’s resolution was to be the best little girl ever, and then maybe her mommy would find a daddy for them.
But Mommy said that the year was a very long time. And making a resolution like that might not mean they would get a daddy either.
So Trish decided to be herself. To help her mother, to play with her brother, to do what she was supposed to do, when she wasn’t doing what she wasn’t supposed to be doing, and like Mommy said, there was always next Christmas.
They never even made it to Christmas because something happened in the summer. Something wonderful, and bad, and everything in between and it all started when they took a trip to see their Great Aunt Emily, who was like a grandmother to them.
She was almost like Santa Claus. Yes, Trish thought, she was Santa Claus—a summer Santa Claus.
And this Christmas she was making gingerbread cookies for Aunt Emily.
The End
If you want to know what happened that summer, be sure to read Double Cougar Trouble!
I have a couple of more authors sharing Christmas stories for a few days too so be sure and stay tuned!
Trouble doesn’t always come in twos.
Jack Barrington still has an army obligation that takes him away from the woman who had enchanted him when they were both in college, but Dottie Hamilton refuses to marry a man in the military because of the problem of raising cougar shifter cubs in foreign lands and the worry he may be killed while overseas like her cousin was, leaving a wife and three little ones behind. When Jack returns home to see his family and Dottie’s only living relative, her aunt, she convinces Dottie to bring her twins home to see her—and to see him. Jack has two-and-a-half weeks to convince Dottie to wait for him while he finishes his last three months on active duty. And learns the truth. Dottie’s twins are his own flesh and blood.
Dottie has made a lot of mistakes in her life, including providing a father for her children by marrying a man, who turns out to be an arms’ dealer. When Jack returns to her after finishing his army obligation, he’s determined to prove he’s the mate she needs in her life, and he has every intention of being the father to his four-year-old twins. Now the criminal deeds of Dottie’s dead ex-husband have come back to haunt her. And she and Jack and their cougar friends will have to band together to stop the arms’ dealers before they destroy what the cougars hold dear.
