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Dumped by his pretentious boyfriend, Clive settles down for a lonely Christmas Eve parked in front of his humble tree. Beneath its green boughs sits a village of glittery cardboard houses, peopled with tiny figures made of lead. The antiquated collection, an inheritance from his grandfather, is Clive's most cherished keepsake. After one mug too many of the spicy Wassail he laced with rum, he nods off, only to reawaken and find himself underneath his Christmas tree. Literally.
And to find someone waiting for him.
Warning: This story contains a big helping of Christmas magic leading to a generous portion of naked young men joyously canoodling. Sure to put you in the holiday spirit!
A novelette of 19,000 words, approximately 53 pages
Book extra: Includes Clive's recipe for Slow Cooker Wassail
An excerpt from The Little Village:
"Clive! Long time, no see!" The skier pulled a bright blue knit cap off of his head, revealing a blond crew cut. Rosy cheeks lit up the broad grin across his face.
Clive stopped and looked at him in shock. "Do I know you?"
Big blue eyes examined him from head to toe and the skier's grin turned to puzzlement.
"You're not Clive," he said slowly. The slight frown didn't detract from the handsome planes of his face.
"Well, that is my name," Clive admitted. "But I don't believe we've met."
"No. You're not my Clive. You're kinda shorter than mine."
"I'm sorry." He felt a little bad for disappointing the tall stranger who was six feet if he was an inch. Clive couldn't tell for sure, with the fellow's bulky clothing, but he had the impression the man had a darn good build on him, too.
"Listen. Is that a town over that way? I'm freezing out here."
"Yeah, I bet you are," the skier said amiably. "You forgot your shoes. And no coat! What were you thinking?"
"I didn't know I was coming here."
"Hit the sauce a little too hard?" The tall blond gave Clive a wry grin. "Sure, our little town is right over there. You planning on hoofing it?"
"I guess. If I stand around I think I might freeze to death."
"Well, we're not having that. Come on, hop up." The skier turned his back and crouched down to the snow.
"You want to carry me? I'll weigh you down, and then some!"
The big fellow snorted. "Do I look like a delicate flower to you? It won't be my first time playing taxi."
Clive eyed the broad back and shoulders clad in orange. For a second he forgot the cold and imagined that big torso covering his own in a nice warm bed. Then his icy toes screamed up at him and he quit dithering. He climbed up on the big guy's back and hugged his neck, wrapping his legs around his waist.
Also by Mike Enfield:
Off the Old Head of Kinsale
One Canadian army chaplain sailing off to war.
One lame cabin steward tending his stateroom.
One swift liner steaming toward an enemy ambush.
One week for two young men to find each other.
Only one outcome, May 7, 1915, off the Old Head of Kinsale
A full length novel of 79,325 words, approximately 232 print pages
Christmas at Atherton Ranch
Christmas is coming and preparations are underway at Atherton Ranch for a celebration the likes of which haven't been seen there in years. Edmund has something special in mind for David - if he can get it there in one piece, while David has plans for showing his gratitude to his new family - if he can pull them off.
In the meantime, Edmund and David continue exploring ways of loving each other, discreetly of course. They're not about to declare their love on a ranch full of rowdy men in 1919. But they sure have their fun.
This stand alone follow-up to "Off the Old Head of Kinsale" is light on conflict, but heavy on joy and love, a cozy read for the holidays!
A novella of 26,000 words, approximately 85 print pages
Book extras: recipes for Cook's Bread Pudding for Edmund and Spotted Dick
For adults only.
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