12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart

by Anthology

  My face felt flushed, and my breath caught. “Okay.”

  We pulled up in front of my apartment, and I gathered our bags of take-out food. Trent opened my door and helped me out of the truck. I stumbled and landed against his chest. Catching me by the arms, he smiled down into my face.

  “Whoa, there. I got you.”

  I pressed my lips to his. “Yes, you do.” I took his hand and followed him up the path to my front door.

  I was pretty sure I’d left on a light in the tiny foyer when we’d left, but the windows were dark as I dug for my keys. An odd glow came from the direction of the living room.

  “That’s funny. Did I leave on the television?” I turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door and froze in my tracks.

  An enormous fir tree stood in the corner of my living room. It was covered in multi-colored lights, and a large star was on top.

  “What . . .” I stepped inside. “Did you do this?”

  Trent’s jaw was tight, and I realized he was nervous. He’d taken a chance, and he wasn’t sure how I was going to react. But he nodded.

  “It’s just got lights on it. Emmy helped me hire a couple of kids to bring it over here tonight while we were at dinner, but we got back faster than I’d figured. Anyway, I thought maybe . . . in the boxes, there’s popcorn and string, and construction paper. I figured we could make our own decorations.” He brushed a hand over my shoulder. “Make it real. Make it ours. No one else, just you and me.”

  A lump rose in my throat. “Oh, Trent.” I turned and slid my arms around his waist. “This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. I love it. Thank you.”

  Relief spread over his face. “Seriously? You’re okay with it? You’re not just saying it?”

  I laughed. “No, I’m serious.” I tightened my arms around him. “But before we string popcorn or cut out paper chains, I was thinking maybe I could unwrap a different kind of gift. You know . . . under the tree.”

  A slow smile curved his lips. “I was hoping you might say that.” He bent his head down and crushed my mouth to his, his kiss aggressive as he stole my breath. I pressed against him, the tips of my breasts teasing his chest as I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss.

  “Elizabeth . . .” Trent groaned my name. “God, I’ve been dreaming about this since the day we met. I’ve wanted you since then. I don’t want to . . . I want to take it slow. Savor it. But right now, the only thing I can think about is getting you naked and kissing every inch of your body.”

  Joy bubbled up in my heart. “Merry Christmas to me,” I murmured. “I’m all over that plan.” I tugged off his suit jacket and went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. When I had it undone, I pulled it out of his waistband and ran my hands over his chest. “God, I’ve wanted to touch you like this. When I’d see you picking up the trees, your muscles bulging—ooooh, baby.”

  Trent grinned. “Really? You hid it well.”

  “I tried to keep the drool to a minimum.” I reached for the button on his pants, but he covered my hand.

  “Wait a second.” Bending, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the Christmas tree, where he lay me down.

  “Do you want me to take off my dress?” I reached behind me for the zipper.

  “No. Leave it. I’ve been fantasizing all night about pushing it up—and finding . . . oh, damn, baby.” His eyes went wide. “You went commando.”

  I unbuttoned his pants while he was distracted. “I was going to tell you while we were at dinner, but you pulled me out of there so fast, I didn’t have time.”

  “If you’d told me any earlier, we wouldn’t have even stayed for appetizers.” His hands skimmed down my shoulders and tugged down the neckline of my dress, baring my breasts. “Elizabeth. You’re beautiful.”

  His fingers teased one stiff pink peak as his mouth covered the other. A thrill of pure pleasure streaked through my body, and I arched my back, desperate for more of his touch. Slipping my fingers lower, I curled my fingers around him, stroking.

  “Baby, if you keep that up, this is all going to be over fast.” His words were a gasp against my skin, making me shiver.

  “We have all night.” I reached for his neck and pulled his face to mine, kissing him with abandon as I lifted my hips in invitation. “Fast works now. Slow can come later.”

  “I just don’t—God, I can’t think when you touch me.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to mess this up. I’ve never—Elizabeth, this is the first time that sex—that it’s meant something. I don’t want you to think it doesn’t. It means something. You mean something to me.”

  My eyes filled with unexpected tears. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but I knew that for Trent, those words were as close as he could get right now. He cared for me. I didn’t doubt it. The fact that I was falling in love with him was something we could discuss later.

  Right now, I only wanted him inside me.

  “I know. I know it does. And you matter to me, too. I’m glad I’m spending Christmas with you. There’s no one I’d rather be with.” I traced my fingers down his length. “But right now, I’d really like you to find a condom and get the hell inside me before I combust from wanting you.”

  As if my words had set him on fire, he kicked off his pants the rest of the way and fumbled in the pocket until he found the rubber. My fingers shook a little as I helped him roll it on, but I knew it was from desire, not doubt.

  He slid into me, filling me with one long, easy stroke. My body was primed, ready, and I cried out as I rose to meet each thrust until the pleasure built to an inescapable height and shattered, pulsing through every part of my being. Trent growled my name and followed, his body stiffening as he emptied himself into me.

  We lay for silent moments under the twinkling lights of the tree. Trent trailed a lazy hand down my back, his fingers light on my sensitive skin. Goose bumps broke out in the wake of his touch.

  “You’re the best gift I’ve ever had underneath my Christmas tree.” He whispered the words just before he kissed me.

  I cupped his face in my hand as his lips trailed down my neck. Turning my head, I caught his ear lobe between my teeth. “This is my favorite Christmas ever. Thank you for giving it to me.”

  “Mmmm.” Trent pushed up on his elbows to look down into my face. “I have a question for you, Elizabeth Hudson.”

  My heart thudded. “What’s that?”

  He ran one finger down my neck and then back up to rub over my lips.

  “What’re you doing New Years?”

  About the Author

  Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books run from YA paranormal romance through NA paranormal and contemporary romance to adult contemporary and paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.

  Follow Tawdra on her website, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and sign up for her newsletter so you never miss a trick.

  If you love Tawdra’s books, become a Naughty Temptress! Join the group here for sneak peeks, advanced reader copies of future books, and other fun.

  Trent and Elizabeth’s story will continue in Always My Own (The Always Love Trilogy Book 2), coming January 26, 2016.

  And spend a little more time in Burton . . .

  Always For You (The Always Love Trilogy Book 1)

  The One Trilogy Box Set

  Love Walks In

  by Chris Keniston

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 Christine Baena

  Cover Design: Rogenna Brewer

  Editor: Megan McKeever

  All rights reserved. No part of this book ma
y be reproduced, scanned, redistributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, print, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Author.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  More than anything I've written, this story was very important to me. In order to do justice to my characters and all children diagnosed with some form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, I had to seek out help.

  A testimony to friendships surviving time and distance, I must thank Mary Summons for the brainstorming, Diane Borgia for having the same job as my hero, and Celeste Boglioli for stepping forward and putting me in contact with the perfect go-to person for this story—Nancy Green. I could not have asked for a better source of information. Constantly peppered with question upon question, Nancy never delayed in responding to my inquiries, and freely volunteered a wealth of data and details. This story truly could not have been written without her generous assistance.

  I would also like to point out that local unified basketball team programs do exist and are highly successful. I would be remiss if I did not thank Brian McNeill, a young man who is a real world Adam. We need more patient and caring people like him in our lives. Best of all, it is here that I give my kudos to Kevin Green and his teammates for bringing home the Gold Medal in Unified Sports Experience Basketball from the 2015 Los Angeles Special Olympics World Games—Hooyah!

  Chapter 1

  "Tom, you would have loved living in this house." Seated at the café table nestled in the corner of her living room, Annette Deluca held the silver frame encasing her family's photo. She remembered the day in 3-D Technicolor. Adam's fifth birthday. Corralling her offspring for a photograph had taken more effort than organizing the entire party at the popular children's venue. What the picture didn't reveal was the near headlock it had taken for her to pin down their son for two minutes nor the gentle pressure with which her husband, Tom's, hands held their daughter in place. Yet somehow Tom's assistant had managed to coax a smile out of the two siblings, creating the perfect family picture. Damn how Annette missed that.

  With the windows wide open, the wind carried the sound of the distant waves crashing ashore and dropped them beside her, opening another floodgate of memories. Summers by the beach. Winters diving in Hawaii or the Barrier Reef. Christmas in the mountains. They'd done it all before the children were born and then done it again as a family. "Do you have any idea how much I miss you?" she asked the man in the photo.

  A gull swooping past the window caught her attention. Focusing on the broad wingspan as the bird glided away from the house and out to sea, she gave herself a mental shake. The last thing her late husband would want her to do is spend her days living in the past. "Time to get back to ringing in the season." This year she thought she'd follow the lead of advertisers on television and get the house all cheery with Christmas spirit now, instead of waiting for after Thanksgiving. Over the weekend, she and the kids would bring out the tree and spend some family time hanging the ornaments and tinsel, and maybe even stringing some popcorn—the way they did when Adam and Bethany were really young. Pushing herself upright, Annette set the frame on the shelf where it belonged. Surrounded by the wealth of family photos that helped keep the memories strong, she shoved aside the melancholy and opened another box of holiday decorations.

  The first Christmas without Tom had been difficult. Thank heaven for Maggie. Annette’s household manager had become indispensable. Caring for the children day and night, taking on the role of mother, while Annette pushed her way through physical therapy and recovery. It was so hard to believe she'd survived that horrible crash. But she had with Maggie's help. And then there was the entire Everrett clan. All of them, and what seemed like half the navy's Special Forces, looked out for her and her children in those dark days after the plane crash that took Tom's life and left her fighting for hers.

  And Lord bless Maile Everrett. Opening her home for the holidays had made the void caused by Tom's absence a little easier to bear. Annette and her kids had still felt the hurt, but most of their smiles had been genuine, and that was due to the warmhearted matriarch. And, of course, the Everrett family's ever-faithful German shepherd, Gunny, who had done as much for bringing back the spark to her son's life as Maile's grown son had.

  "Wow, the water is perfect today." Maggie wrapped a beach towel around her, tucking in the corner as she crossed the threshold.

  "This is Hawaii." Annette laughed. "The water is perfect every day."

  "I know. But, after so many years living in L.A., I keep expecting the ocean to feel like an ice pond in Antarctica."

  "Not going to happen." Prominently placing the antique Santa's sleigh and reindeer she'd retrieved from the box on the minimalist mantel, Annette shook her head at her friend.

  The familiar sound of her cell carrier's ring tone played. She really needed to pick a better tune. Her phone always sounded like a television commercial for her provider. Glancing quickly at the screen, her heart gave a small stutter as the name of her son's school popped up. "Hello?"

  "Mrs. Deluca, this is Harriett from the principal's office."

  Her mind ran full speed ahead. All the horrible possibilities for a phone call from school tripped and shoved their way over the benign and more likely reasons. "Yes?"

  "We've had a little … incident."

  Okay. Incident is way better than accident, and Harriett's tone, while stern with a hint of frustration, gave no indication that Annette needed to be racing to the emergency room. "How little?"

  "Adam has been in a fight."

  "A what?" Her son didn't fight. The kid was a card-carrying member of Future Pacifists of America. Hug the trees and save the whales too. "Are you sure?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Never mind. What happened?"

  "I think we should discuss this in person."

  "Very well. I'll be there in a few minutes."

  "Mrs. Deluca?"

  "Yes?"

  "Bring a clean shirt."

  Clean shirt?

  "And pants. Your son's have seen better days."

  * * *

  Another number changed on the digital clock. Brian would be home in a few minutes. Sometimes Michael Becker wondered who attending a new school was more stressful on, him or his son. So far it was a toss-up. He'd hoped mainstreaming middle school in Hawaii would be easier on Brian than in the large Dade County public school system. All his son wanted was to be like other kids his age. To go to a regular school, have friends, be invited to parties. There was even talk of a girlfriend.

  Mike scrubbed his hand down his face. Hawaii might be Paradise, but he wasn't holding out for miracles. Or maybe he was. Normal people didn't turn their entire world upside down if they weren't hoping for something.

  Awake since four o'clock this morning for a conference call with L.A., Mike seriously doubted the wisdom of his choice to live in the Hawaii-Aleutian time zone. Working for a Fortune 500 company on a global IT project had its perks and problems. He could telecommute from the house and be home for Brian. On the downside Mike could be attached to his computer at all hours of the day and night seven days a week. Or the blasted phone. And if Singapore didn't have the numbers run for him in the next minute, they would just damn well have to wait for him to do his part. No way could he ignore Brian's arrival after school. For the last twelve years, routine had been critical in every aspect of his life. Even as a baby Brian didn't adapt to variations in the daily schedule. Karen had made it all look so easy. From sunrise to bedtime, everything ran like clockwork.

  Now, as soon as Brian walked through the door, the well-planned and practiced system kicked into gear. To the minute. No room for the slightest deviation. Snack. Homework. TV. Homework. Mike pinched the bridge of his nose.

  The last digit flipped on the clock as Mike and Brian's neighbor pulled in the driveway. "Bless her."

  Not many people understood Brian's need for order and routine and schedules. Heaven forbid
his ride home from school decided to stop at the grocery store for a gallon of milk or try a shortcut to save time. The slightest detour always spelled disaster. But his neighbor Liz got it. She picked up Brian at the exact same spot at the exact same time and drove home the exact same route, and, so far, Liz was the only thing about the new school and the new routine that was going well.

  His work cell resting on the desk buzzed. Glancing down, Mike saw the long string of numbers—Singapore. Not good. Preferring to use chat or email, it wasn't normal for the offshore team to call. This could only mean trouble. Reluctantly he grabbed the phone. “Becker.”

  “Good afternoon, Mike,” the caller began. Always frustrated by the formality of the greeting and the acknowledgment of the time difference, he replied with the standard, “And good morning to you.” After all, Singapore was eighteen hours ahead—already the next day. What he really wanted though was to hurry up this conversation—get to the point. The last thing he needed was a lengthy conversation with Brian about to walk in the door.

  The sound of a car door slamming broke into his thoughts, followed by another, and Mike's head snapped up. Liz normally watched Brian walk to the door and waited for Mike to wave back. The routine didn't call for her to get out of the car and walk with Brian. Shit. With a quick “I need to go. Send me an email,” he cut short the call and dropped the phone.

  Tempted to hurry outside to find out what happened, instead Mike bit his cheeks and waited for Brian to open the door as usual. The second Brian appeared in the doorway, Mike knew the slight change had been enough to throw his son off his game. Brian’s gaze remained on the floor, watching his feet as he moved farther into the house.