Have Yourself a Horrific Little Christmas

For those of you who like a little paranormal horror with your Christmas eggnog, check out Silent Night, Final Night, written under my pen name of Gail Smith. And enjoy this little excerpt:
***

When she emerged from the bedroom, Kem found her husband standing near the window overlooking the front yard. Going over to him, she drew her arms about his waist and pressed her cheek against his back.

            

“Maybe we should have told her Santa Claus doesn’t exist,” Armand murmured.

           

“It would have destroyed every last chance she has at having any sort of childhood.”

            

“You know in the morning she’s expecting to see a wrapped gift or toy beneath that umbrella tree.”

            

“Maybe there’s something in the garage,” Kem suggested. Armand cast her a dubious eye and snorted. “Hey, I haven’t checked all the closets yet,” she argued softly. “Maybe there’s wrapping paper hidden somewhere and we just haven’t found it yet.”

            

He took her arms and turned around to pull her into his embrace. Kem waited for his kiss, needing this rare private moment to reaffirm their love for each other. It had been months since they’d had sex. She wondered if they ever would again.

            

He nuzzled her hairline, sighed, and pulled her closer. “Kem?”

            

The tears rose in her eyes. She didn’t try to fight them. Neither did she try to keep the sobs from choking her.

            

“We can’t stay here, but we can’t leave. There’s nothing out there but death. But if we stay here, sooner or later we’re going to run out of food. And the weather’s only going to get worse. We have no future, Armand. Teela will not be able to grow up.” Pulling away slightly, she looked up into his concerned gaze. “If something happens to us, I dread to think what will happen to her. What kind of horrors is she going to have to face when we’re no longer there to protect her?”

            

Armand guided her over to the sofa and had her sit beside him. “It’s time we talked,” he announced, deliberately keeping his voice low. “Kem, we need to make a decision. I agree with you. There is no longer any future for us or for anyone else. Eventually everyone will either starve to death, or they’ll turn to cannibalism, which will only accelerate the decimation of humanity. The plague will take over all of us, one way or another. If something happens to us, you and I both know Teela won’t last five more minutes.” He pressed her thigh against his. “I have nightmares about being forced to watch our little girl being tortured and killed before our eyes.”

            

Kem shuddered. “I have, too. Armand, what are we going to do?”

            

He gave her another squeeze. “Kem, I think we’ve come to the end of the line. I think this is the end of us. We were damn lucky to find this place. I think we’ve been pressing our luck these past couple of months, but it won’t last. It can’t last. Sooner or later, we’re gonna hit that big brick wall that is the end of the road. Honey, if this is the end of us, I want it to be at our hands. I don’t want an infected or, God forbid, someone like Kreek taking our lives.”

            

More tears fell. Her face felt hot. Reaching up, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks, but more warm drops rolled across her fingers. “H-how?” she finally managed to ask. “How will we end ourselves?”

            

Armand took a deep breath. “It will be done as painlessly as possible.”

            

She nodded but remained silent and waited for him to continue.

            

He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a prescription bottle. “I found these in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. They’re sleeping pills.”

            

Kem sat up and gave him a surprised look. Armand quickly shook his head. “No, I didn’t give her any. Not yet. I wanted to talk with you first.”

            

She peered at the bottle. “There’s not that many.”

            

“It’s all right. I will give her a couple to knock her out. While she’s asleep, I’ll put a pillow over her face. She’ll never be aware of what’s happening to her.”

            

Kem pressed her face against his shoulder to muffle her sobs. Armand continued.

            

“I can do the same for you. You won’t suffer.”

            

“I kn-know. What about you?”

            

He took a shaky breath. “I’ll slit my wrists. I hear bleeding to death is very painless. I’ve heard it’s a lot like going to sleep.”

            

Clutching his shirt, she buried her face in the cotton fleece. “When?” she finally managed to ask.

            

“I was thinking tonight would be as good a time as any. That way, Teela won’t wake up in the morning and lose what’s left of her childhood. That way we won’t have to wonder how much longer we can remain here and try to decide where to go next. That way we—”

            

A thump sounded against the front door. Armand leaped forward to shutter the lantern, throwing the room into darkness, and took a stance against the wall. Kem went to stand behind him, flattening her back into the corner as they strained their ears. After another long minute, she thought she heard more movement coming from outside. She debated whether to sneak into the bedroom to awaken Teela when someone knocked on the door. They both jumped at the sound.

            
“We know someone’s in there. We saw the light, so you gotta be human like us! Those goddamn things ain’t got the brains anymore to do that.” It was a male voice, his words muffled but legible. There came another pounding knock. “There’s just the two of us. Please let us in. We’re freezing our asses off out here!”

SILENT NIGHT, FINAL NIGHT
A Christmas Horror Story
by Linda Mooney writing as Gail Smith
Word Count:  20.3K
$1.99 e / $6.99 p

A family on the run, searching for food, shelter, and others not infected.

A plague is wiping out the population, stealing the humanity from people and turning them into monsters. Kem and Armand are willing to do whatever it takes to protect their daughter and survive. Nothing is promised, not life, not their next meal, not even a decent night’s rest.

The quality of life is quickly diminishing. How much is too much? How long until the fight for survival is no longer worth it, and it’s time for a dignified end rather than a slow, painful death?

Excerpt and buy links: http://lindamooney.com/SilentNight.htm 

And don't forget to follow my blog to take part in The 12 Giveaway Days of Christmas, now through the 24th!

Jamie Gets a Story of His Own

Writing a story is a very personal experience. The writer probes into the psyche of the characters to understand what makes him/her tick. Delving deep makes it easier to anticipate their reaction to words, situations, the environment around them. We fill our pages with heroes, heroines, villains and support characters.

You know who the support characters are, the shadowy people who appear and disappear without much notice and the characters with the heftier roll, side kick, best friend, older parent figure. Their sole purpose is to interact or engage the hero/ine and give the reader a clearer view of the story and add depth to your hero/ine through comment and story development

The supporting character can be minor players who simply make the story more interesting or they’re supporting players who are essential to the plot. These players are key to the story, unmasking facets of the hero/ine’s personality, motivation and backstory that are concealed.

I created a supporting character, Jamie Maxwell Collins in The Guardian’s Witch, the first book in The Stelton Legacy. Jamie is married to the heroine’s sister. I loved writing this character. He was cheeky, irreverent, smart and trustworthy. The friendship between him and the hero came to life and grew on the pages. By the end of the story each man was dedicated to the other and life-long friends. Jamie became such a personality that my editor, as well as my readers asked for his story.

The Highlander’s English Woman is Jamie and Laura’s love story. It is the second novel in The Stelton Legacy.

Laura Reynolds and long-time friend of Jamie Maxwell Collins are in love. She adores his playful sense of humor, caring nature as well as his strong sense of honor. They have known each other from the time Jamie trained with her older brother at their home on the English side of Scottish border. Jamie has become an excellent soldier except he insists on remaining a farmer. He won’t fight and while she knows him well, she has no idea why.

Jamie Maxwell Collins lives on the Scottish side of the border. Carefree and open, he loves Laura but hides a dark secret so powerful it could destroy his family and those he cares for. He can’t involve Laura in this deception. He mustn’t give her hope for a future together. Instead, he ends their relationship.

While visiting Jamie’s uncle, Laura stumbles upon Jamie’s secret, but has nowhere to turn. The only person who can help, her brother is gone, killed on a Welsh battlefield. In her heart of hearts she knows Jamie is innocent. Their relationship in tatters and with no hope of reconciliation, she plays a deadly game to find a way to exonerate Jamie even though it means agreeing to a political marriage. She has no idea the entire game has been orchestrated by her future husband, Jamie’s greatest enemy.

The Highlander's English Woman is now available

Amazon/Kindle: https://amzn.com/B01LXYHNGS

iBook: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/highlanders-english-woman/id1158295266?mt=11  

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-highlander-s-english-woman  

Other books in The Stelton Legacy

Here Be News

New Releases

Complex: Hungry Touch by Shona Husk

The small population of Incubi in the Complex is clinging to old traditions and shunning contact with other species. Each year, the Incubi fight for the privilege to lead and mate. Only one can win. Kearn Layk never planned on winning, only doing better than last year’s previous dismal result that left him at the bottom of the pack. A year’s worth of secretly training more than paid off. He shocks everyone and wins. In the process, he makes an enemy of the man who was leader. Now filled with the burning desire to find a mate, he goes in search of a woman.

Phoebe Evans came to the Complex to reinvent herself. Being surrounded by the Metas is as strange as it is fascinating, but she hasn’t had the courage to date one yet. Then she meets Kearn. He’s smart and interesting and most definitely not Human.
Incubi traditions and Humans desires clash, and as new ideas are tested, old enemies rise up and threaten lives. Not everyone wants to see the Complex succeed.

Amazon      iBooks

Other News

Love faeries? During December, STORM WARNED by Dani Harper, is just $0.99 for the Kindle ebook version.

Passionate musicians Caris and Liam grew up centuries apart. When their fates collide, they must learn to trust each other and work together to stop a dark force from seizing both Fae and human worlds. 

Storm Warned is Book 3 in the Grim Series, but every story is designed to stand alone, says Dani. "You won't get lost, I promise!" 

https://www.amazon.com/Storm-Warned-Grim-Dani-Harper-ebook/dp/B00OM9OKF6

>>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<<<

Jeffe Kennedy's THE PAGES OF THE MIND was picked as one of Heroes and Heartbreakers Best Romances of 2016!

Guest Author Diane Burton Talks Holidays in Stories

Thanks for having me back on this lovely blog.

Many writers pen novels celebrating a holiday. Valentine’s Day is perfect for romance writers, Halloween for those who write paranormal. Readers especially enjoy Christmas or holiday stories. I live in western Michigan, along the lake of the same name. We get LOTS of snow. Three years ago, over 159 inches of the white stuff fell in our area. It would have covered our mailbox if Hubs hadn’t kept it clear. Since we’re both retired, we don’t need to leave the house for anything urgent—like a job. Perfect time to curl up with a feel-good story.

I have yet to write a Christmas novel. On The Roses of Prose blog, each year the contributors write holiday short stories serialized throughout December (this year mine will appear from the 26^th to the 28^th). Until three years ago, I hadn’t written a short story since high school. My novels tend to run from 80-100 thousand words. I fretted about how to pare down a story to 3,000 words. Finally, I followed Nike’s advice and just did it. The result was “Christmas in Space” about astronauts who arrived on an unexplored planet on December 25^th. That story stayed with me so much that I expanded it into a novella, published this year.

In Mission to New Earth, which starts in 2172, three teams of astronauts represent three regions of Earth: the United Americas, Euro-Africa, and Asia. Each team will explore a different planet. The team in my story represent the United Americas. Even that far into the future, the people of Earth may have united all the space agencies, but they haven’t united all the religions. While I’m Christian, not everyone is now or in the future, so I felt it was important to include references to many end-of-the-year celebrations—Chanukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Mawlid an-Nabī, Dhanu Sankranti, Bodhi Day, and Omisoka. And even a nod to those who don’t follow any religion. In my efforts to be inclusive, I’m sure I’ve left out other religious observances, for which I apologize to those practitioners.

While we prepare to celebrate during this month, we don’t just sing about “good will to all” we show it by our actions . . . and in our stories.

However you celebrate, I wish the happiest of holidays to you and your families.

Mission to New Earth blurb:

Would you go on a one-way trip to explore a new planet? Would you do it to save humankind?

In 2172, Earth’s overpopulation and dwindling resources force the United Earth Space Agency to expedite exploration of new planets for a possible new home. When new crises ensue—a giant tsunami and the threat of nuclear winter—the timeline changes. Eight years of training crammed into four.

Sara Grenard and her team prepare for launch, but are they ready for the one-way trip? Will the Goldilocks planet prove just right for Earth’s inhabitants? Before time runs out.

Amazon ~ Kobo ~ iTunes ~ ARe ~ Smashwords ~ Barnes & Noble

About the Author:

Diane Burton combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction and romance into writing romantic fiction. Besides the science fiction romance Switched and Outer Rim series, she is the author of One Red Shoe, a romantic suspense, and the Alex O’Hara PI mystery series. She is also a contributor to two anthologies: Portals, Volume 2 and How I Met My Husband. Diane and her husband live in West Michigan. They have two children and three grandchildren.

For more info and excerpts from her books, visit Diane’s website: http://www.dianeburton.com

Blog: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/dmburton72

Facebook:  http://facebook.com/dianeburtonauthor

Goodreads: Diane Burton Author  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2902110.Diane_Burton

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/dmburton72/

Amazon author page: http://amzn.com/e/B00683MH5E

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Hidden Holidays: A Monster Haven Short Story

A couple of years ago, I wrote a holiday story for the characters in my Monster Haven world. Next month, the first book in my spinoff Djinn Haven series, To Catch a Stolen Soul, comes out. I'm super excited about that, but I do miss my original cast of crazy characters and decided to share the holiday short story here today.

The whole thing is a bit over six thousand words, which is too long for a blog post. BUT! The entire story is available for free in all the online stores if you want to download it after you catch the beginning here. I've also put it on my website so you can read it without downloading. The links are at the bottom so you can go straight to it.

Have a wonderful holiday season, however you celebrate, and may next year be filled with joy, laughter, good fortune, and love!

-- Rachel

Hidden Holidays

by R.L. Naquin

While I’d been busy at work helping a bride who’d gone over budget, the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future had vomited themselves across my living room. The mess left me nowhere to step without crunching a glass ball underfoot. My head spun from a sensory overload of color, sound, and texture.

I stood on the threshold, wondering if I should go around back and enter through the kitchen door instead. Or maybe get a hotel until Christmas was over and Maurice, my closet-monster roommate, put everything away.

Maurice leaped out of a mound of lights, and the grin on his face was so large it took up half his head, dwarfing his big yellow eyes. “You’re home early! I wanted to surprise you!”

“Surprise.” I gave him a half-hearted smile. “I could leave and come back later.”

Brenda Lee belted from Maurice’s iPod, insisting that everyone should be rocking around the Christmas tree.

He shook his head, and several loops of colored lights slipped to his shoulders. “The tree will be here in a few minutes. You can help me decorate it.” Shuffling his legs through the piles of decorations so he didn’t step on anything, Maurice reached the chair closest to me and cleared it of boxes. “Sit, sit, sit. I’ll get you something to drink.”

I waved my hand at the mess around us. “I’m fine. The living room isn’t. I’m not going to dehydrate and blow away.”

As it stood, I couldn’t imagine where the hell a tree was supposed to go.

The floor had no path to the kitchen or to the hallway. My options were few. Or rather, two—leave through the front door or have a seat. I stepped around a three-foot tall nutcracker in a Santa hat and sank into the chair, clutching my purse to me as if it were a shield. 

A strand of tinsel puffed into the air and floated past my head.

“Maurice, where did you get all of this?” My eyes and face felt as if they’d stretched into an expression of shell-shocked horror. I did my best to force the muscles to relax.

But there was so much of it. Piles of gold and silver and red garland. Boxes of ornaments in individual compartments. Three electric angels sat side by side on the mantle, their wings squeaking open and closed in tandem. Nutcrackers in all sorts of designs and sizes. I counted six nativity scenes around the room in various materials—cornhusk dolls, ceramics, carved wood, and even LEGO bricks. A stack of wreaths covered the coffee table, and the sofa was a mass of tree skirts, stockings, Christmas-themed throws and pillows, and no less than five stuffed Rudolphs.

Maurice, looking satisfied with his haul, put his hands on his hips and winked at me. “I got it all out of the closet.” He flipped a wall switch and the lights trailing around the room all went on at once, nearly blinding me.

Multicolored lights, white lights, strands of all blue, all green, and all yellow. Tube lights. Neon lights. Dripping icicle lights. Old-fashioned outdoor lights with enormous bulbs. Glowing, flashing, twinkling, chasing in every pattern possible. A family of lawn-ornament deer in the far corner came to life, their heads nodding, white lights glowing from their wire frames.

I groaned and closed my eyes. My eyelids were far too thin to block out the bombardment.

My resident closet monster had gone on a closet raid.

“You stole all this stuff?”

Maurice puffed out his chest in indignation. “Borrowed. Only from people who won’t need it this year. I’ll put it back.”

I opened my eyes in alarm and regretted it. “Oh my God, Maurice. Turn those off. Please?”

He flipped the switch, leaving us in blessed early-evening light. “You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“It’s just a lot.” I smoothed my fingertips over the crease that appeared between my eyebrows. “I think I need some air.”

Maurice’s grin downgraded to a bewildered smile. “Yeah. Okay. Go take a walk.” His smile grew an inch. “Iris will be here with the tree soon, and Molly and the kids are coming over to help decorate. We’ll have it all fixed up by the time you get back.”

I pulled myself to my feet. A motion-activated snowman ensemble rang tiny bells and sang Frosty the Snowman. “I’m sorry, Maurice. I don’t mean to bring down the merriment. Christmas hasn’t really been my thing for a long time. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

He reached across the coffee table, knocking a few wreaths aside, and grabbed my hand. “I understand. We’ll save you a few ornaments to hang when you get back.”

To read the rest of the story, you can find it on my website here: Hidden Holidays

Or you can download it for free here: B&N Amazon Kobo iBooks

Rachel writes stories that drop average people into magical situations filled with heart and quirky humor.

She believes in pixie dust, the power of love, good cheese, lucky socks and putting things off until the last minute. Her home is Disneyland, despite her current location in Kansas. Rachel has one husband, two grown kids and a crazy-catlady starter kit.

Sign up for her newsletter for news, extras, and exclusive stuff: Newsletter
Hang out with her here: Website Blog Facebook Twitter
Buy her books here:  Amazon B&N Carina Press

Scary Christmas - the Tradition of Yuletide Ghost Stories

Our interest in ghosts, ghouls, and goblins doesn't end when we put the Halloween decorations away. With the shortening of daylight hours, something primal in us awakens. It’s not only a time for reindeer and Santa and eggnog and mistletoe – it’s time for the supernatural!

Don’t believe me? Check out the lyrics to a 1960s Christmas song: “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” … among the festivities mentioned are “scary ghost stories”!

To quote one of my friends, “Where the heck did THAT come from?”

Marley's Ghost visits Ebenezer Scrooge,
by Arthur Rackham, 1868, Public Domain

We’re all familiar with the classic “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, written in 1843. It tells of a bitter old man whose life is changed by the visitation of ghosts on Christmas Eve. But Dickens’ tale (just one of several seasonal ghost stories he penned) wasn’t at all unusual for the time. 

The Victorians were very fond of telling ghost stories around the fire during the holiday season — sensational and haunting tales of mystery, murder, and tragedy. Supernatural fiction in the form of periodicals, magazines, novels and “penny dreadfuls” sold well year-round but reached its marketing peak during the Yuletide season!

The popularity of spectral stories was no doubt helped along by the rise of spiritualism at the time, the belief that it was possible to communicate with the dead and receive messages from them. Christmas séances were very much in vogue!

Although dragging out the Ouija board for the holidays may sound strange to us, the Victorian preoccupation with ghosts is not that hard to understand if you consider the very short life span of the era (the average was somewhere between 37 and 41 years). So nearly everyone had someone “on the other side” that they wanted to talk to, especially during the holidays. Even Queen Victoria and Prince Albert met with a number of mediums, and actively participated in séances as early as 1848. 

A ghost in his winding sheet, 1901
illustration by J. Torrence, Public Domain

Ghost stories go hand in hand with Yuletide for another reason too. Since ancient times, the Winter Solstice (which falls around the 20 of December) has been associated with a thinning of the veil between worlds, as the death and rebirth of the sun occurs. Spirits are said to wander freely during this time. Later traditions invest Christmas Eve itself with a unique magic, allowing the departed a chance to settle their unfinished business with the living.

Whatever the original reasons might be, the telling of ghost stories at this festive time of the year is just plain fun, and in keeping with our all-too-human nature. We simply can’t help ourselves. 

Nineteenth-century humorist Jerome K. Jerome, in his book “Told After Supper”, addressed this mortal attribute: “Not only do the ghosts themselves always walk on Christmas Eve, but live people always sit and talk about them… Whenever five or six people meet round a fire on Christmas Eve, they start telling each other ghost stories. It is a genial festive season, and we love to muse upon graves, and dead bodies, and murders, and blood.”

Indeed we do.

……………………………………….

Check out Dani Harper's ghostly Christmas romance, THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT

Get your copy here: https://www.amazon.com/HOLIDAY-SPIRIT-wants-Christmas-ghost-ebook/dp/B013Z0F31M 

Leave a comment below answering one of these questions:

What's the most FUN Christmas gift you've ever received OR what's the most fun gift you've given to someone else? 

GIVEAWAY NOW CLOSED. 
Congrats to Carol L - she wins a paperback copy of The Holiday Spirit.

Prize will be delivered by Amazon. Open to US, UK, or Canada.

Holidays in Ragnarok

With the holiday's coming up, I wanted to share a special scene I wrote up for my Norse mythology based series Twilight of the Gods about celebrating Yule time in Ragnarok. Hope you enjoy it!

***

Christian stepped outside of the hall to catch a breath of fresh air. Lois was in charge of preparing the place for the Yule celebration and she took her job very seriously. She’d recruited a dozen men, including him, to move benches and tables. Today, they did the grunt work. Tomorrow, Lois would work her magic, transforming the sprigs of live holly and ivy into vines that would cover the posts and rafters. She’d create an intricate network of glamour to conceal the fact that the clan was gathering in a building that looked more like a VFW than an Æsir hall. By the time she was through, crossing over the threshold would be like stepping into Valhalla, with a Yule log burning in the center pit and the tables bowing beneath the weight of food and drink. As much as Christian hated the preparation, the finished product always made him feel like a child again. Besides, this was his first Yule with Jacey and he wanted it to be perfect.

The metal door swung open behind him and Fen stepped outside. “There you are. I thought you’d made a break for it.”

“I just needed a minute to think.”

Fen leaned back against the brick wall. “About?”

“I haven’t gotten Jacey a gift yet, and she’ll expect one. She grew up celebrating Christmas, and I don’t want her to feel like she’s missing out.”

“Her mom’s coming next week, isn’t she? You can always do the whole Christmas thing then.”

The upcoming visit from Jacey’s mother was another worry, but it was one he could set aside for now. “I still want to give Jacey a gift. Something special. Are you getting anything for Raquel?”

“We’re having our first night alone in the house since we were married. Getting that Vanir witch moved out is the only gift we need.”

“I got the Vanir witch out of your house.”

“And we thank you for that.”  Fen looked at him with a questioning tilt to his head. It reminded Christian of the way Fen moved when he was in his hound form. “Do you have any ideas?”

He pulled a folded slip of paper from his pocket.  “I started a list.”

Fen took the paper and unfolded it. “A new coat? Does she need a new coat?”

“The one she has is gods-awful.”

“I’ve never noticed anything wrong with it.”

“It’s mustard brown and hangs down to her knees. I was thinking leather. William said he could make it if I could get her measurements, but I can’t figure out how to do that without making her suspicious.”

“Oh ye of little imagination.” Fen looked down at the list again. “The reading charm would be nice if you don’t want to see her for the next couple of months.”

Jacey wanted to study the old texts in the vault below the library, especially the ones that’d come over from Asgard. But Fen was right. If he had Raquel work a charm to allow Jacey to read the runes, he wouldn’t see her again ‘til spring. “Maybe I’ll hold off on the charm.”

“She would like the horse,” Fen said.

“But she’d probably rather choose her own.”

Fen’s brows climbed to his hairline when he got to the next item. “A jötunn corpse?”

“She’s been asking me to get her one to dissect. Too practical?”

“Too gross.” Fen’s eyes glittered with amusement. “If you want practical, you’d be better off getting her a vacuum.”

Christian ran a hand through his hair. “I’m thinking too small, aren’t I? She likes magic. I should get her something magical.”

Fen shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t think you need to get her anything at all. She’s happy here, Christian. Anyone can see that. You don’t have to bribe her to stay.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Hard to top the last present you gave her.” Fen slapped the list against Christian’s chest, and he caught it before it fell to the snow-covered asphalt. “You should have started with something smaller. How about an engagement ring? That’s pretty magical. You still have the one you gave Raquel, don’t you?”

“It’s a family heirloom. Of course I have it.”

Christian looked down at the list, the words blurring a bit as he considered the suggestion. It wasn’t like he hadn’t given a lot of thought to the idea already.

The image settled in his mind—him and Jacey under the mistletoe, surrounded by firelight, magic and family. She might think he was moving things along too quickly, but he knew what he wanted. And he knew why he was having trouble picking something from the list. He didn’t just want to give Jacey something. He wanted to give her everything.

A ring would be a good start.

Releasing a breath that frosted in the chill air, Christian dropped the list in the trashcan beside the door. When Fen grinned, Christian scowled at his friend. “You don’t have to look so smug about it.”

***

Witch Bound (RITA-nominated for best paranormal romance in '14) is on sale right now for only $0.99!

Raquel Lindgren knows what her future holds. An arranged marriage. A new home in Ragnarok, Iowa, with another clan of refugees from Asgard. She should be happy. But there’s a mental block preventing her from tapping in to her true abilities as a witch. And she’s more attracted to the best man than she is to the groom…

Fen can’t believe he’s falling for his best friend’s future wife. As a hound, a wolf shifter, his duty lies with the pack. He’s seen too many hounds destroyed by love, and he’s sworn never to take a mate, never to have children of his own. He can’t deny his desire for Raquel, but she deserves more than he can offer her.

Raquel’s been raised to trust in magic, her clan and her destiny. But when a vengeful demon threatens to break out of Asgard and destroy the clan, Raquel learns she must trust in love if she is to take the future into her own hands.

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*Story originally published for the Mistletoe Madness bloghop at That's What I'm Talking About... (twimom227.com)