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Category: Romance/Suspense/Thriller
Description: Lured by Jimmy Buffett's lyrics of Christmas Island, it seems to be the perfect, tropical paradise for Liv to escape from a cold Minnesota winter--and maybe, if Christmas wishes come true, she'll meet a sexy sailor of her own to forget her cheating ex-husband. ~~~ Emily loves her simple existence as a romance writer and mother and is content to let anything resembling desire pass her by, but her tenacious agent has some ideas of his own. He's determined to see her rejoin the human race and begin dating once more--particularly if the man she chooses to date should happen to be him? ~~~ Christmas is the season of miracles and Detective Tony Preston will need one if he is to stop the monster kidnapping children. With the help of a sexy crime lab tech--and a little divine intervention--he may just get his Christmas wish. ~~~ The earl of Ardmoor is back and hosting a Christmas get-together. His guests plan teaching Wood Nymphs Christmas carols and giving out magical wishes on ribbons. The guests include a half and half with an agenda, a disappearing moon struck sycophant, and a sunshine vampire who needs to mind her fangs. Oh, and hosting the man who nearly succeeded in unmanning him.
eBook Publisher: Highland Press/A Wee Dram, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: November 2011

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [299 KB]
Words: 63698
Reading time: 181-254 min.

"A warm cup of romance is just the thing for a chill winter evening... 'All I Want for Christmas' is a fun, eclectic set of stories that range from the escapism of one story's trip to 'Christmas Island' to a vampiric tale, 'Mind Your Fangs' set in an alternate-universe of the English Regency period. Though far-fetched, the appropriately titled 'A Christmas Miracle' is an intriguing mixture of detective noir, ghost story, and supernatural comeuppance. 'All She Wants for Christmas' follows an up-and-coming writer who falls, gradually, for her hunky male literary agent. This is a compulsively readable anthology of short romance. Highly recommended." - Michael Angel, author of Three Curses

Christmas Island

"This is the first Christmas I've spent in a tropical climate." Liv inhaled the warm, humid air, sweet florals mingling with the balsam scent of pine from a candle someone had lit in the bar. "Santa would have a hard time bringing his sleigh in here."

"He comes in a canoe," Dirk said, cocking a thumb toward the juke box. "At least, according to Buffett."

"What?" Then Liv laughed as she listened to what was playing.

How'd you like to stay up late like the islanders do?

Wait for Santa to sail in with your presents in a canoe?

"That would be different," she said. "And where do you hang your stocking? You sure don't need fireplaces here."

"On a coconut tree," Dirk replied with a grin.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" At least, she was getting him to lighten up a little. "It just seems strange not to have snow. Do you ever miss it?"

All She Wants for Christmas

When the speaker on the traitorous piece of plastic remained silent, she continued.

"Okay. So, we've never really had great boundaries. Maybe we should set some now. My dating life isn't a topic I wish to discuss. Not with you. Not with anyone."

"You write romance novels. You have to actually experience some romance in your life in order to describe it in a realistic manner for your readers."

She shook her head as she paced the soft carpet of her living room. "No. See? That's the beauty of it. I'm a romance writer, I don't need to date. If I start to feel like I'm missing out, I can write myself a date."

She heard his chuckle. "Emily--"

"Okay, okay. Even better, you date--" she paused as she warmed to the idea--"and then tell me all about it. I can live vicariously through you."

Another long pause. "Emily," when he finally spoke, his voice sounded slightly off from his usual deep bass, "vicarious sex is a bad thing."

A Christmas Miracle

"Hey, Tony."

"What?" Tony barked, looking up from the journal. His voice softened. "Oh, hi, Macy. I didn't realize it was you. How are things in the crime lab?"

"Busy, as usual." Macy stepped into the room. "Do you need some help going through those boxes? I'm off the clock."

"I appreciate the offer, but it's Christmas Eve, Macy. Why don't you head on home?"

She shrugged a careless shoulder. "My folks are on a cruise and my brother is spending the holidays with his in-laws. It's just me, It's A Wonderful Life and a frozen turkey dinner."

Tony studied her for a moment and she glanced away, the color in her cheeks darkening. One corner of his mouth kicked up. "Then sure, I'd love some help. I've been staring at these files so long, I swear one of them levitated a few minutes ago."

Macy laughed and Tony watched her. Her smile faded. "Don't stop," he murmured. "You have a beautiful smile."

Mind Your Fangs

Last evening had been the best night of her life. He had talked to her, laughed with her--and looked into her eyes. Wavering between giddy happiness and a self-conscious awareness of all her shortcomings, she'd been able to laugh and converse easily with him. Except when he gazed into her eyes, and then all thought departed from her mind, leaving just... That was the question she couldn't answer, and was too embarrassed to ask the other women. Was it normal to want to be very, very close to a man's body? To desire him to kiss her, and for her to want to use her fangs when she kissed him? For her fangs were most definitely interested in him. Was this a vampire sort of problem? Something her mother hadn't mentioned to her?

Did Dore feel anything similar toward her? Not about the fangs, obviously, but might he have those strange feelings for her? How would she know? He was so very proper. Proper in an elegant sort of way, not at all stiff as her father sometimes behaved. There was one week until Christmas, seven days of having Dore near her, and possibly figuring out if he returned any of her regard.

The sound of singing was heard in the distance, near the trees, but they weren't yet ready for singing with the Wood Nymphs. No, now was the time for riding like the wind.