by Allysa Hart and Rayanna Jamison
Now Available: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KW52FZQ/
or FREE on KU
I finished my beer and stood. “Crystal, listen. I know you don’t understand, and I know you don’t care, but this is really important to me. Would you please just consider letting in the possibility of change? Could you just open your heart up the tiniest bit to the magic of Christmas and see what happens?”
She said nothing.
It was a risky move, but I knew what I had to do. I had to leave her something to remember me by.
I snapped my fingers, and a tree appeared in the corner of the living room, covered in colored lights and adorned with brightly colored glass balls. The topper of course, was a jolly Santa, made to my likeness, with a red velvet suit, and real leather boots.
Her eyes widened then narrowed as she scowled at me.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” I snapped my fingers again, and a handful of wrapped presents appeared beneath it. “There’s gifts in those you know,” I whispered. “Technically, you’re not supposed to open them until Christmas, but you’re already on the naughty list, so I say go for it.”
Still nothing. My heart sank, and I realized I two weeks may not be enough time. This woman was practically dead inside when it came to Christmas. I snapped my fingers again, going for the full effect this time. Decorations covered every inch of her house now, and a fire roared to life in a fireplace underneath a mantle adorned with festive decor and brightly colored stockings.
Instead of looking charmed or excited, she stopped and scowled at me. “Will you please stop? It’s going to take me forever to undo this mess you’ve made.” She stomped her foot. “Stop it right now.”
“Not until you agree to let me come back tomorrow, and take you on a date. A Christmas date,” I elaborated. “It has to be a date doing something Christmasy.”
“Ugh, why would I do that?” she groaned. “I don’t even know you.”
I snapped my fingers again, and the house filled with the smells of Christmas as a tray of cookies, and candies, and even fruit cake appeared in the center of the table. Next to it were two huge glasses of fresh egg nog.
Her jaw worked back and forth as she took in the fragrant display of delectable treats. She was angry, I could tell, but also tempted. I couldn’t blame her. My mother’s cookies were pretty fabulous. Crystal stayed strong. I reached over and picked up a cookie in the shape of a tree, groaning loudly as I bit into it.
Chewing slowly and expectantly, I watched her for any sign of breaking but she gave none.
She was playing hardball. That was fine. I could play too.
I held my fingers up as if to snap them. “My next two moves are my head elf and a live reindeer. I’d think about giving in if I were you,” I warned.
Now Available: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KW52FZQ/
My most important job as Santa is to rid the world of non-believers of all ages. But first, I have to make one of them my wife.
Crystal spent her entire life avoiding Christmas, and I have only two weeks to convince her otherwise. She is stubborn, but I am determined.
She will learn the magic of Christmas either on Santa’s lap, or over it.
The fate of Christmas depends on it.
Now Available: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KW52FZQ/Allysa Hart
I am a full-time mom to a sassy, strong-willed, loveable little girl. Okay, so she is all me. I am on the wrong side of 30, and I have been married to my best friend for over eight years. Like most couples, we have our ups and downs, but I could not imagine doing life with anyone else by my side. We are Southern California transplants, currently residing in a very rural part of the east coast. I have two crazy dogs that I adore, even though they drive me out of my ever-loving mind, most days. I have recently rediscovered my love of words and decided to become a writer. My first story is my heart and soul, and it reaches into the depths of all that is me. I also create covers, promos, and logos for authors. I have met some amazing friends on this journey that I now happily call family. Without my family members, whether biological or chosen, I would not be half the person I am today. Their constant love and support keep me afloat.
Stalk Ally at:
Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/allysahartauthor https://www.facebook.com/authorallysahart/ https://www.facebook.com/allycatscreations/
Email:firstname.lastname@example.org Rayanna Jamison
Rayanna is a coffee drinking, wine loving, sushi obsessed, knee sock fanatic who works her passions into every story she writes. She resides in Southern Utah with her husband, 2 kids, mother, grandfather, and 2 dogs.
In her spare time, she enjoys celebrating life with good food, good drinks, and good friends.
You can find me at these following places:
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/sexysassyspanky/
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Rayanna-Jamison/e/B00MCX92OS/
They walked home; through the buzzing silence, through the steady, sweet-warm glow of the inescapable sky, lit aloft by the home sun and the quiet meanderings of the God stars, which now Agapanthus hated—hated, hated, hated, with all her gut and her clenched jaw and all the strength she could pour into the limbs of her weak, young body.
Could the Gods sense this? Could they see or hear inside her mind—inside anyone’s mind—just as they could with the Contact? Was the Contact only special because he could sense their presence there, while all the others remained blind? She hated them. Suddenly she understood how the Others must feel. They were the ones living on the fringes of the frozen lands to the south and the great deserts to the north. Right on the very edge, next to the Waters. During the Awakening, the Gods had only spoken to Contacts living around the equator. The islanders. The Others were not the chosen people. They were primitive; they didn’t have access to the technology of the Gods. No; they still worshipped the old god, the single, fierce god of the underbelly of Deeyae, who they believed controlled the hydrothermal vents, and, thus, all life. But those who worshipped the Gods knew this was not true. They knew that They controlled everything from their high perch on Aamsh and Jord. Without them, the Deeyans would not exist, and all of Deeyae would crumble.
Agapanthus didn’t know whether the Others believed in the Gods. But how could they not? Their touch was everywhere—in the science labs, in the healing centers, in the portation center, in the exchange program headquarters, in the electricity, in every advanced device, every planet-transport machine, every light. But maybe the Others didn’t know about this evidence. Either way, she knew they must hate the idea of the Gods. The idea that the islanders were better than them. Superior, chosen, brilliant. Agapanthus had only seen the Others once, on the way to the Star Festival in the ice lands. They had passed their camp—animal-skin tents, round and low to the ground, and a small gathering area of stones where they probably sat and spoke of their underworld god. But the only Other in view was a young woman. All Agapanthus saw was the back of her head, right outside one of the tents. And then, she remembered, Great-Aunt Tayzaya said something, like, “Poor things.” And they had all gone on, farther and farther from the eternal sun of the equator, into the dark half of the planet. It was always night there; always. They wore special fur suits that covered every speck of skin and body except their eyes. Onward they had walked, over the strange, ticking, cracking ice that smelled of water and soil at once. It was so tiring that Pittick had to carry her in his arms. She fell asleep pressed against his chest. His warmth. When she opened her eyes they had arrived. And that was when she looked up; above them, the sky had melted from red to—to everything. A black sculpture painted with stars, with lights that bulged, and soared, and cascaded; that reflected on the unending ice fields until ground and sky became one, rolling the world into a sphere of light.
“Aga,” Leera had said, crouching to Agapanthus’s level. Her words were muffled through the furs. “There is your home world.” She pointed to a certain light, faintly yellow, unblinking.
It was disappointing. It looked like nothing. Like anything. Like any other star.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Leera said. “That is your home sun.”
“It looks just like the other ones.”
“Exactly. And they are all beautiful.”
An Old Fashioned Christmas
by Laylah Roberts
Release Date: December 11, 2018
Preorder price – only $0.99
Preorder here – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KJCPR25/
It’s Christmas, Old-Fashioned style. Come celebrate Christmas with the gorgeous alpha Jamieson brothers and their sweet, strong wives. There will be eggnog, bad singing and, of course, a Christmas spanking or two. And it wouldn’t be Christmas without Sam in a sexy Santa suit.
A brand new Christmas novella featuring all the characters from Laylah Roberts Old-Fashioned series and is best read as part of the series.
Old-Fashioned Series 1. An Old-Fashioned Man 2. Two Old-Fashioned Men 3. Her Old-Fashioned Husband 4. Her Old-Fashioned Boss 5. His Old-Fashioned Love 6. An Old-Fashioned Christmas (novella)
Preorder Link – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KJCPR25/