From the keeper of Santa's naughty list, delightful little Elves eager to please, and the sensual love of a toy soldier - the holidays are filled with orgasmic cheer. Where wishes come true, Frosty is itching for a melt-down, fairies and angels are randy to grant your every wish, 'tis the season to be oh, so jolly-filled.
Unwrap your darkest desires...for this is Christmas and it will never be the same.
Stories include:
A Christmas Curse – a seductive suspense by Ericka ScottParamedic Frank Moran drew the unlucky straw three times running to work on Christmas Eve. That’s when he stumbled upon an eerie coincidence -- a string of suicides all originating from the same sixth floor apartment.
A chance meeting with Amanda Spaulding, the first 'victim' of the curse, has Frank's heart beating a bit faster and his libido shifting into gear. As midnight creeps closer, he follows the clues back to the killer - one who's made a deal with the devil. To his horror, he finds that every life taken serves to give Amanda another year of life. Unfortunately, breaking the curse will shatter Frank's already broken heart, in which case, he isn't sure he wants to live...
A Christmas Wish for Laura – a romance you can sink your fangs into by Shannan Albright
One wish during a storm on Christmas Eve changes the life of a young widow living in the Alaskan wilderness. Laura Holt, a successful artist lives in self imposed isolation, but the erotic dreams of one man fill her with a need she cannot deny. Elven Lord, Elric Frosti takes refuge against the storm in an old renovated barn where he comes upon Laura. Passions ignite and with it a love that could last forever.
Carly's Delight – a sexy fantasy by Lauren Pilla
Carly, a sexy elf who makes sex toys for all the naughty humans, is working her way up the corporate ladder. Pleasure Tester is her goal. To test out the delicious toys before they are sent out to provide pleasure to the humans would be a dream come true. Unfortunately work has been a drag and the naughty are just not asking for toys. Hell bent on figuring out why, Carly decided a male elf is needed to help inspire sexual appetite amongst her colleagues. Alex, the new male, not only sparked an appetite but a whole sexual three-course meal in Carly. Will she be able to control her desire and figure out how to increase toy orders? Or will she sink her teeth into a dessert named Alex?
Hard for the Holiday - a hot Christmas fantasy by Skylar Sinclair
Jewell has always harbored a sexual Christmas fantasy and one Christmas Eve night she is awakened when she hears the bells that decorate the downstairs fireplace ring. The only problem those bells were not made to ring.
But, Jewell Dupree is no ordinary woman. She can see and speak to the dead. When Jewell goes to investigate, she never expects to find a sexier than hell man planted in the middle of her living room. He is her Christmas fantasy come to life. Now what will this hot hunk do to her?
Other Stories included are: Santa's Naughty List by Stacey Espino, My Boys by Amarinda Jones, The Little Red Ribbon by A.D. Blackburn, Once Upon a Christmas Spanking by Rachel Clark, Yes Alana, There Is a Santa Claus by Seleste deLaney, Kingdom of Sweets by Gigi Brevard, Holly's Clause by Kerri Nelson, The Christmas Fae by Emma Shortt, and Jack Frost by Misty Burke.
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Excerpt from A CHRISTMAS CURSE by Ericka Scott
The beer fizzed on Frank’s tongue leaving an odd aftertaste. He picked up a book from the side table. Santa steered a full complement of tiny reindeer across the cover. An odd sense of déjà vu swept over him. Tonight was it, the infamous night before Christmas. In years past, when no creatures stirred, it was because the current resident leapt six stories to their death. Well, not tonight.
Four years ago he was the paramedic to answer the call to this address.
A suicide.
Bereft, grief-stricken, lost and lonely, an old lady had taken her own life. Frank understood that suicide happened. Only when it happened the next year, and the next, all originating from the same apartment, did Frank start to wonder about the incidents. Coincidence? Three, maybe. Twenty, no way. But could he get the already overworked police interested? Stymied by the fact that suicides weren’t a crime, even when he’d pointed out the trend, they’d pronounced it coincidence.
Now Amanda Spaulding, the sole survivor of that twenty-year string of coincidences, showed up at his door on Christmas Eve. She was five years old when she’d fallen or jumped from the large window on his left. Had she shown up like some harbinger of doom to set the cycle into motion? Or was the curse one of the residents’ own making? Were they just looking for an excuse to end their own lives? If so, why this apartment?
Frank had no intention of committing suicide, nor did he think Mr. Humphrey’s had, either. Last year, Frank had sensed a presence in the apartment when he’d come here to save the man. Something evil lurked here, he’d felt it then, but he didn’t feel it now. No menacing aura hung around Amanda, if anything, she wore a mantle of sorrow and confusion. He took another swig of beer and struggled to swallow.
Last year, he’d been lucky to not work Christmas Eve. Instead, he’d left his own cheerful apartment to try to save an old man. Frank’s failure to do that left an indelible mark on his soul. Since that night, he’d researched a plethora of statistics and case studies involving suicide.
Taking one’s life wasn’t limited to adults. A frightening number of children as young as five were known to take their own lives. The police considered the apartment to be not the cause but the excuse. What better than to blame a supposedly cursed apartment for one’s own weakness? To compound the issue, the apartment, owned by a local mortuary, was only available to bereaved spouses, making the succession of deaths all the more believable.
After Laura died, Frank knew what it was to not want to live anymore and fought his depression with his obsession about ‘the suicide apartment’. He’d been emotionally prepared for failure the day he’d set out to rent the place. To his amazement, the apartment was available. He’d taken out a year’s lease. Time to get his life back on track is what he’d told Mr. Spaulding, the mortician, all the while wondering if the stodgy unsmiling man was a serial killer.
The impulse to follow Amanda around the apartment was strong. He longed to see what she looked at, touched, perhaps get some clue as to why she’d survived when no one else had.
As if his thoughts had conjured her, she reappeared, her face pale and the hand holding her soda shook.
Concern for her leapt unbidden. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She sat beside him, gave him a wavering smile before her face crumpled. “No, no, I’m not okay.” Tears flooded her eyes. Despite his suspicions about her, he allowed her to sink against him, bury her face in his chest and sob.
Many women’s, and a few men’s tears had decorated his shirts over the years, but this was only the second woman who had ever cried on his bare chest. The first had been his wife, Laura.
Frank couldn’t say he’d never looked at another woman while he was married. Oh, he had. However, he’d never acted on a lustful impulse. Wrapped up in grief, he hadn’t thought about being with a woman in months. How could Amanda’s sudden appearance change that?
Granted, Amanda’s luscious curves fit against him in a way Laura’s athletic form never had. The oversized red sweater she wore slipped provocatively over one shoulder. Pushing the fabric down further would reveal expanses of soft skin and the full mounds of her breasts. He wondered what kind of bra she had on beneath. Lacy and black? Perhaps fire engine red? Thinking about it made him harden. Once he’d conjured up the errant erotic thoughts, he couldn’t banish them.
Picturing himself tasting, touching, and then taking Amanda’s willing body, he stifled a groan. After his wife’s senseless death in a traffic accident caused by some foolish man texting while he drove, Frank had sealed off his heart and emotions with hurt thicker and more adhesive than duct tape. Why hadn’t he thought to build up any defenses against physical attraction?
He stroked down Amanda’s back and her sobs subsided. Trying to rein in his libido, he analyzed Amanda’s looks, wondering where the attraction lay. She wore her too-black dyed hair in a jagged cut that suggested the stylist had been Edward Scissorhands’ first cousin. The multiple and infected piercings in the cartilage of her ears appeared to be more the sign of a rebellious teen than a grown woman. He longed to take some antiseptic to the raw spots.
The surge of protectiveness startled him. Seeking further, he determined that some of her features were beautiful. She had sea green eyes with a slight almond shape, and her lips were pink, pouty, and thoroughly kissable.
He probably would have been able to resist the mad impulse to taste those lips if she hadn’t chosen that exact moment to look up at him.
A Christmas Wish for Laura – a Romance you can sink your fangs into by Shannan Albright
God, she was pathetic!
She hadn’t been with a man since Ryan’s death five years ago; hadn’t the urge until the dreams about this man started six months ago. Now her libido raged out of control for a figment of her imagination. Worse, she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts when she was awake. Laura obsessed about him. Replaying every stroke of skin, taste and emotion he pulled from her, loneliness and need threatened to overwhelm her. At thirty-two she was too young to live this cloistered life. The solitude made her ache with wanting someone to share her life with. At the same time the very thought terrified her. She didn’t want to open herself up to that kind of loss like again. She knew she wouldn’t be able to survive it. And yet…to be able to feel a man’s arms around her, touching her, filling her once again would make her feel alive. Her breath misted in the still air as she sighed. I have the holiday blues. Tomorrow was Christmas, a time for family. A family she didn’t have. She thought there would be time for family later with Ryan. Later turned out to be too late.
Her vision of the sculpture blurred and a tear fell unchecked down her cheek.
“I wish…” The sudden silence was near deafening, as if the very air awaited her words. “I wish not to be so alone. I want a man who I can laugh, cry and even get angry at…” She laughed at her own silliness, but what the hell, if you were going to wish for something do it right the first time around. “A man who would never leave me alone again,” she whispered, as more tears slid down her cheeks. Her eyes locked on the still sculpture before her.
The sudden howling of the wind broke the silence of the moment and the world seemed to shudder back to reality. Impatiently, she wiped the moisture off her face and gave a short, bitter laugh.
Wishing never made anything any better. Much more preferable to just face the reality of her life here alone or change it and move back to civilization and get back out in the world.
For some odd reason the idea of leaving left her panicky. She felt close to her imaginary lover here and the idea of seeing other men left a bad taste in her mouth. Nope, she most definitely was not ready for a change like that.
Grabbing a pad of paper and her pencils off the table, she made her way back to her small bedroom where she decided to sketch while she waited the storm out.
Carly’s Delight - a sexy fantasy by Lauren Pilla
What a sexy male, she thought, her gaze instantly drawn to his pointed ears. Elf to the core. She looked him up and down, guessing the delicious hunk to be at least six foot. He wore blue jeans with his hands tucked in his pockets, and a grey t-shirt, standing in a relaxed pose like he hadn’t a care in the world. She found it a little silly that he wore black shades inside the building, but when he pulled them down, revealing crystal blue eyes, Carly was rendered speechless. To her a man never looked more delicious.
Is he looking at me? Oh my god, he just licked his lips. Oh, man and what a set of lips. She felt hot and could only imagine her cheeks were the color of candy apple red.
“Hi.” Way to make an impression, Carly. Pull it together girl, you’re starting to drool. She reached for Alex’s hand. “My name’s Carly. It’s nice to meet you.”
Alex shook her hand and his grip seemed to reach right between her legs. “Hello. I think I’m supposed to spend the day with you. Just let me know if I get in the way.
You will never be in the way. Oh hell, what did I get myself into?
“This is Carly’s first day in her new position, Alex, so perhaps you two can learn your new roles together.” Sandy smiled wickedly, and Carly suspected the boss had a little secret knowledge, before she headed back to her office.
Carly couldn’t believe the male was real, and he was incredibly gorgeous. His body looked as if it was carved from stone. No doubt he worked out every day to get that toned. She noticed his broad shoulders were perfect for holding onto in the throws of passion. He could probably lift her like she weighed no more than a piece of paper. Oh god, what am I thinking? Carly’s mouth started to water as she boldly examined every inch of Alex.
Clean shaven face, blue eyes and dark silky brown hair. A female could run her fingers through hair like that. Damn he is sexy and he is mine to do whatever I want with tonight. She smiled at Alex. You have no idea what you are in for.
Hard for the Holiday by Skylar Sinclair
Chapter One
“What the hell” came out of my mouth before my brain checked in and I bolted upright in bed. The noisy clinging and clanging sound of bells chimed loud and clear downstairs.
My gaze swung toward the illuminated clock setting on the nightstand next to my bed. It read eleven O’clock straight up Christmas Eve night.
The only bells I had downstairs were the ones strung across the fireplace for decoration. I had to admit there was nothing unusual per se about ringing bells. It would’ve been fine and dandy if they had the little clackers in the center, or if they’d been electronic. Mine, though, had neither.
Once my heart rate slowed to a beat above normal and my mind cleared of the remaining remnants of sleep, commonsense kicked in. I must be getting summoned. For truth be told, I see dead people. Yeah, that sounded corny, but it happened to be true and the dead aren’t the most patient of spirits.
Since I was a little girl I’ve talked to these spirits. As a child, I thought they were my imaginary friends come to play with me. I remember having so many friends at one time. I had tea parties. My parents thought it was cute back then.
When I got older…
Not so much.
About age ten, my parents started watching me intently and whispering behind closed doors a lot. One kind spirit revealed to me I wasn’t talking to imaginary friends but people who had passed on. The spirit told me I had a special gift. From that day forward, I never talked about my so called friends again.
Now, I figured one of the dearly departed must want my attention downstairs. I guess they didn’t believe in taking the holidays off like the rest of us living folk.
Damn!
I could try and ignore the spirit, only they’d stick around bugging me until I talked to them. They usually had some issue that needed addressing—maybe unfinished business or help passing on to the other side. Why was it some of them couldn’t figure out they were dead? I mean, come on.
Well, sitting here lamenting about the whole thing would get me nowhere. The sooner I dealt with them, the sooner I could snuggle back down into my nice, cozy, warm bed. I brushed my long dark hair out of my eyes and stiffed a yawn behind my hand.
It snowed like the devil the night before and the moon hit the snow outside, casting tiny rays of light through the slit of the window drapes directly across from my bed, giving me enough light to not be a stumbling fool.
I threw back the covers and the cold air hit me as if I’d opened up the refrigerator freezer. Goosebumps formed on my skin like a pimply coat of armor. And, I swear, I saw my breath drift before my face.
Thank goodness my slippers were on the floor right next to my bed because I had hardwood floors and my feet would’ve turned to icicles on contact. Right now, I wish I had started the remodeling of this old Victorian home going from the upstairs down instead of the other way around. Note to self: replace hardwood floors with soft plush carpeting and the windows with dual panes, as soon as winter is over.
With a resigned sigh, I heaved my legs over the side of the bed and quickly shoved my feet into my slippers. My robe lay at the foot of the bed and I pulled it on with agitated jerks and cinched it tight around my waist. I pushed myself off the side of the bed.
My slippers slapped hard on the floor with my irritated stride. I yanked open my bedroom door, the old hinges protested loudly from the force. I made a hard left and headed down the shadowy hallway toward the staircase.
I expected to be greeted with darkness. Instead, up ahead the landing twinkled from colored lights dancing through the railing and hints of a glow from a fire cast up from below.
At the landing I couldn’t resist the urge to peek over the railing to the living room beneath. I remembered turning off the Christmas tree lights and the fire had died down to embers before I went to sleep. Yet gazing down, I spotted the Christmas tree in the corner near the living room entrance lit up like nobody’s business and an inviting fire blazing in the fireplace. The smell of evergreen and smoke tickled my nose.
I slowly crept down the stairs, my right hand sliding down the railing for support. Just as I was about to hit the last few steps, the bells suddenly stopped; only the crackling of a roaring fire in the fireplace resonated.
“What took you so long, Little Girl,” a deep masculine voice addressed me.
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