Christmas Is for Lovers: 6 Hot Holiday Romances

by Box Set

  Ben turned away from the throne. He hated to leave Brittney in a lurch, but this wasn’t working out. He’d tried to be a good Santa, but he obviously wasn’t cut out for the job. Wasn’t there a requirement for a jiggly belly to cushion the kids?

  Besides, how was he supposed to function after touching the most tantalizing set of potatas he’d ever felt?

  “AAaakkk.” A giant flutter of wings beat overhead and talons yanked Ben’s Santa hat off his head.

  “Hey, give that back.” Ben reached up and jumped, trying to snag the hat from the white cockatoo.

  RRiiiipp! Buttons popped from the Santa suit and the entire front opened up, exposing his sweaty, naked chest.

  He loosened the wide belt quickly and tucked as much of the jacket as he could into it.

  Laughter tittered around him, but he wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of a reaction. Nope. He’d go on his business and catch that bird if it was the last thing he did.

  The cockatoo flew up toward the roof of the barn and dropped the Santa hat in the hayloft. He settled on a beam, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Aaahhh. Aaaah. Aaaah.”

  “Aarroohhhwah,” Ben’s grandfather’s dog, Treat, crowed in accompaniment.

  Traitor!

  Ben didn’t dare turn around to see what Brittney was up to. Hopefully, she was busy taking pictures with babies whose thoughts about breasts were pure and innocent.

  A wooden ladder leaned against the wall of the barn. Ben picked it up with one hand and slid it to the end of the loft. That bird had messed with the wrong Santa Claus.

  He was halfway up the ladder when he realized his belt had come loose and the pants were slipping.

  Bending slightly to pull them, he felt the ladder wobble. Cripes. His center of gravity was so high that he could topple over. Back home, he’d never helped his dad in the barn, always excusing himself for football practice. Now he was paying for it. He’d leaned the ladder at a bad angle.

  He squeezed his thighs to keep the pants from falling, but how was he going to move up the ladder? Maybe he should come down before anyone noticed.

  Sneaking a look at the direction of the Santa throne, he spied Brittney showing a girl how to hold a lop-eared bunny. Good. She hadn’t seen him with his Santa pants down, despite the gathering crowd of gawkers. Thank goodness for his wig and beard. People were asking each other who he was and assuming he was a guy from Rent-a-Santa.

  “Aaaah!” the big bird shrieked, dive bombing him. It landed on his grandfather’s yak’s hair wig.

  Giant wings flapped and feathers flew every which way. Ben raised his hand to remove the bird.

  Ow! The demon bird bit him. Not only that, its talons were tangled in the wig and beard. Ben’s skin stretched where the beard was glued, and he was blinded by a barrage of white plumage.

  He twisted and turned to dislodge the bird. Suddenly, his pants fell to his boots and he lost his balance. The ladder swayed and toppled backward. Shit. Shit, and triple shit.

  Ben grabbed wildly for a handhold, but there was none. The ladder snapped to a stop, and he lost his footing. What happened? He hung onto a rung and whipped his head around.

  The top of the ladder was caught on the top of a giant Christmas tree. Below him, people pointed, mouths wide open at his candy-cane striped boxers swinging in the wind.

  For the briefest of seconds, Ben was suspended between the loft and the Christmas tree, with enough time for several cameras to flash, then swoosh, the giant tree collapsed, the ladder jerked, and Ben landed in a mess of popcorn garlands, silver tinsel, colored lights, and fragrant green branches.

  When he opened his eyes, all he saw was the underside of the nasty bird, who sat on his grandfather’s expensive yak’s hair wig and beard, crowing and mocking him as he splatted him with a big blob of crap.

  “You shitty bird.” Ben grabbed the large white bird. “I ought to wring your neck.”

  Dangit. The bird’s feet were tangled in his wig and beard, and he screamed bloody murder while flapping his large wings in Ben’s face.

  Sorry, Grandpa. Ben ripped the beard from his face. Yeeoch! That stung.

  Around him, a crowd gathered.

  “Why’s Santa being mean to that bird?” a little boy said.

  “Oh, look, he’s in his underpants,” another child said. “I see his wee-wee.”

  What? Oh, crap. Ben let go of the big bird who immediately flew off with the wig and beard. He felt for the Santa pants, but they were snagged by the broken Christmas tree, and he couldn’t pull them up.

  Brittney ran up to him. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “Quick! Cover me while I untangle my pants.” He grabbed her and sat her on top of his crotch.

  Uh oh. This wasn’t one of his brightest ideas, putting a barely dressed female elf on his lap. His cock, however, thought it was just fine and dandy.

  “Take off your jacket and wrap it around your waist.” Brittney squirmed. “There are children around.”

  “I know.” He gritted his teeth as he struggled with his too tight jacket.

  She leaned into his chest and whispered, “Do you want me to adjust anything?”

  “Nothing, just let me get this jacket off, then you move back while I cover myself.”

  Her eyebrows wiggled as she helped him take off the red jacket. “You sure your jacket’s big enough?”

  “Ready?”

  “Wow.” Her mouth gaped as her eyes greedily took in his chest, and she squirmed over his growing erection.

  “Stop doing that.” He was packing some serious wood, and she knew it.

  “There they are,” a shrill female voice yelled. “Indecent exposure and public sex. Arrest them.”

  Chapter 9

  ~ Brittney ~

  Two burly policemen grab me and Ben, separating us. Fortunately, their arrival has shrunk Ben’s male parts, and he’s no longer as indecent as before. There’s still the candy cane boxers on display, and I’m caught red-handed with his Santa jacket around my wrists.

  “Officer, this isn’t what it looks like,” I explain. “I was helping Santa cover up, because his pants got snagged in the Christmas tree.”

  “Save it for the judge,” the policeman who has a hold on me growls. “Should I cuff you, or are you going to come peacefully?”

  Meanwhile, his partner already has Ben on his feet and cuffed. His pants are still down around his boots and caught on the fallen Christmas tree.

  The officer grabs the pants and rips it from the toppled tree, then tries to pull them up for Ben.

  “I told you they’re too loose,” Ben says. “That’s why they fell. It was an accident.”

  “Sure, it was. That’s what they all say.” The officer sneers. He hitches the belt tightly around Ben. “I have plenty of witnesses who saw the breast bobble, too.”

  “That was my fault.” Ben jerks his chin at me. “Let her go. She had nothing to do with this.”

  Both of the big men rake their eyes over me and snicker.

  “I don’t blame you, big guy,” the officer holding on to Ben says. “Next time, find a smaller elf—cup size A would do.”

  The policeman holding me says, “Her outfit’s so tight, she’s packing double J into an A.”

  Sheesh, since when are police officers so knowledgeable about bra sizes?

  “Please, Officer, we can explain.” I wring my hands, scanning the crowd for my parents. “My sister’s pregnant and this is her elf costume. I’m only substituting for her.”

  “And I’m substituting for my grandfather,” Ben cuts in. “That’s why the waist is too big for these pants to stay up.”

  “Substitute or not, we’ve had complaints. Come on, let’s go.”

  The gawking crowd parts for us, as Ben and I walk from the barn to the police cruiser.

  “Waaahrroooh!” Ben’s dog waddles behind us, howling and drawing even more attention.

  I’m aware of the giggles and the tittering, as well as the row of
cameras recording our long walk of shame.

  Mom and Dad rush toward us.

  “That’s my daughter,” my father says. “Why are you arresting her?”

  “Indecent exposure and public lewdness,” the cop replies.

  “That’s impossible. Brittney’s a straight-A student, a CEO of her own company,” my father argues. “She can’t help it if she’s well-developed.”

  “Brittney’s a good girl,” my mother says. “She’s never gotten in trouble before.”

  “Save your breath,” the policeman says. “We had to respond to the multiple complaints.”

  As I approach the cruiser, I spy that bitch in the business suit with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face. Who is she and what does she have against me?

  Chapter 10

  ~ Ben ~

  “Spread your arms and legs against the car,” the policeman ordered Ben and pushed him to the squad car.

  “Stop touching me,” Brittney said, jerking her arm and dragging her heels. “I demand a woman officer.”

  “Are you resisting arrest?” the policeman, who had his paws all over Brittney, drawled.

  “What you’re doing is more indecent than anything Ben pulled,” she snapped at him.

  Ben was forced to bend down with his bare chest over the hood of the car while the policeman made a cursory examination of his loose Santa pants before pulling off the too tight boots to look for knives.

  “Anyone can see I have nothing under this outfit,” Brittney complained.

  “Oh, we can see that all right,” the officer said, leering.

  After the rude frisking, the officer with Ben shoved him into the cramped backseat of the squad car. Ben’s knees hit the front panel and he had to hunch his head forward.

  “You too, get in,” the officer with Brittney said. “And put on your friend’s seatbelt for him.”

  “Don’t I have a right to keep my hands to myself?” Brittney pulled out her shoulder belt and strapped herself in. “I’m not an idiot. This is entrapment, making me touch him so you can use it against me in the court of law.”

  “You have the right to remain silent,” the policeman retorted. “You want me to cuff you, too?”

  “Let it go, Bill,” the officer who arrested Ben said. He calmly applied the safety belt. “Let’s get them to the station and book them.”

  “Book us? I demand a lawyer,” Brittney shouted across Ben to the more reasonable policeman. “I didn’t do anything indecent. I was covering him up. If it hadn’t been for his big boner, no one would have seen a thing.”

  “Excuse me?” Ben turned on Brittney. “I helped you when your wardrobe malfunctioned. I didn’t have to push your boobs back into that teeny-tiny tube, except you asked me to do it.”

  “No one told your dog to get fresh with me.”

  “He wasn’t getting fresh. He was uncomfortable. A basset hound has a weak back and you weren’t supporting him right.”

  “Fine, but we weren’t arrested for my ponies popping out. It was you, pulling me onto your candy-cane boxers.” Brittney waved at the officer and pointed to herself. “I’m a victim here. He made me sit on him because he couldn’t pull up his pants fast enough.”

  There was no way he was going to let her palm this day’s disasters on him.

  “I didn’t make you sit on me,” Ben shouted back. “I asked you to help me because I helped you, and you were the one who decided to wiggle around on my beef stick.”

  “I wasn’t wiggling. I was trying to accommodate your size and not let anyone see anything.”

  “If you’d disrobed me faster, you could have covered me with my Santa suit instead.”

  “Sure, put the blame on me, men like you always do.” Brittney crossed her arms and stomped her boots.

  “Excuse me? I was dressed decently. Who told you to dress like a stripper elf in the first place?”

  “My sister said sex sells, idiot. We were supposed to raise more money than her stupid kissing booth, but because you couldn’t keep a big bird in your lap, we probably lost.”

  “We lost because me and every pair of male gonads in the barn couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Brittney sneered. “I can wear whatever I want. Doesn’t mean you have to look.”

  “How can any man not look at those beachballs?” Ben turned to the officer. “I’m going crazy back here. Let her go. She obviously didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The two officers laughed.

  One winked and said, “You two are a hoot. We’re wearing body cams and this is the funniest arrest ever. And no, we’re not letting her go until we review all the evidence.”

  “What evidence?” Ben and Brittney yelped at the same time.

  “All the videos and pictures that are being submitted to our website, not to mention all the publicity this has generated for our Police Dog Toy Drive.”

  “Police Dog Toy Drive?” Ben blubbered.

  The officer picked up Treat. “This here dog just volunteered to be the poster dog. Didn’t you, buddy?”

  Traitor Treat. He licked the officer’s hairy face. Gross.

  “Oh no, here come the reporters,” Brittney said as a line of news vans descended on the tree farm. “Can you guys get us out of here? On the double?”

  “Sure thing,” the policeman dumped Treat in the already crowded backseat, slammed the doors and pulled a stunt donut before screeching out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 11

  ~ Brittney ~

  “They took my mug shot, fingerprinted me and booked me all without giving me a rag to cover myself. If I were really indecent, don’t you think they should have thrown me an orange jumpsuit?” I grab the oversized Shopahol t-shirt from my sister as my father and mother walk me from the jailhouse. I was released under my own recognizance with a court date set for January.

  “You’re lucky no one saw your genitals,” Lacy says. “They only got you on lewd conduct. Poor Ben has to pay bail, all because someone saw his Jumbo-Dumbo. You should see what they’re saying on social media.”

  “Serves him right.” I shrug the t-shirt over my head. “He’s an asshole. He blamed me for the entire thing, saying I dressed like a stripper elf.”

  “Men.” Lacy huffs and eyes Dad and her husband, Brandon. “Well? What are you two smirking about?”

  “Nuh-nothing at all,” Dad says and rushes to the minivan.

  “To be fair, you did give everyone an eyeful,” Brandon says, less wise to the ways of women—especially Reed women.

  Lacy hits him with her purse. “You checked out my sister? How could you?”

  “I didn’t look. I swear.” Brandon raises his arm and ducks. “I’m just saying you can’t blame Ben if he got distracted.”

  “Distracted? He practically came on to me and asked me to sit on him.” Now I’m really pissed. “It’s not my fault he fell off the ladder because he was looking for me.”

  That’s the story going around, spread by loudmouth Sean who again forgets that he works for me.

  “Admit it, you looked at my sister. How could you?” Lacy screams at her husband, Brandon, jackhammering her purse over his head and shoulders. “I’m eight months pregnant and you’re checking out my sister.”

  “I’m not checking out your sister. I didn’t notice anything.” Brandon grabs his wife’s arms. “I never look at anyone. I even kissed those women with my eyes closed.”

  He’s referring to the kissing booth he and Lacy operate for charity to raise money for neurological diseases. It’s a miracle they don’t catch their share of kissing diseases.

  “Tell the truth.” My sister’s never one to back down. “What do you think about Brittney’s bonbons?”

  “I don’t have a thought about them. She’s your little sister, for God’s sake. Why would I ever, in a million billion years think or look at her?”

  “I don’t look at you either, Brandon.” I have to retort. I can’t stand it when they act
like I have no feelings. Once I make a ton of money, I can get breast reduction surgery. Sporting these twin towers isn’t any fun at all.

  “So, you really don’t give her a passing thought?” Lacy coos as she rubs her big belly against Brandon.

  Wait a second. Isn’t this lewd conduct? I’m offended and they know I’m watching.

  “I only have eyes for you, darling.” He lowers his lips and locks them onto my sister’s ruby red lipstick-painted ones—right in the middle of the police station parking lot.

  My father unlocks the doors, and I flounce into the middle row of the van. So unfair. My entire family thinks of me as a brain first and a pair of boobs second.

  “Don’t listen to Lacy,” Mom says, patting my hand. She joins me in the back. “She’s pregnant and has all these hormones floating around. Just wait until after the baby’s born. She’ll get post-partum depression.”

  “You mean she’ll get worse?”

  “I was so depressed, I burned down our apartment building,” Mom says. “Of course, it was an accident and no one got hurt.”

  “That’s why we adopted you,” Dad says. “Lacy was such a crybaby we couldn’t sleep a wink, and your mom here left the bottle in a pot of water and forgot about it.”

  I’ve heard this story a million times. Lacy had colic. Lacy threw tantrums. Lacy got in trouble. Meanwhile I’m supposed to be the good one—the one who makes them proud.

  Sudden tears spurt from my eyes. “I really screwed up this time. I didn’t mean to get in trouble.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Dad says, grinding his teeth. “You should never have been dragged into this. I’m going to have a word with Ben. He should man up and take all the blame.”

  “I was only trying to help him. It’s the truth.” I wipe my eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” Dad says. “We called a criminal defense attorney—one of the best. Owen Williams. He’ll be by for dinner and can take your statement.”

  “Stay off the internet,” Mom adds. “Owen says you need to tell him everything without it being tainted by watching the videos.”