| Author: | Laya D'Pearce | ISBN: | 9781370424726 |
| Publisher: | Diane Lee | Publication: | December 20, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Laya D'Pearce |
| ISBN: | 9781370424726 |
| Publisher: | Diane Lee |
| Publication: | December 20, 2017 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Christmas is a time for giving AND receiving...
...and getting your Christmas itch scratched.
Forty-something freelance writer Kat Snow hates Christmas. With work at a standstill, no family to celebrate with and friends otherwise occupied, she considers the holiday season generally a depressing time of the year.
To beat the holiday blues, Kat decides to spice things up by spending Christmas Eve with the best present a girl could give herself... a hot young man... or two.
And in a delicious Christmassy twist, Kat's seasonal itch is scratched by Klaus and Nick... who are anything but the ghosts of Christmas past.,,
EXCERPT:
Divine’s was one of the newest bars in town and lived up to its name. In a city full of pop-up bars and hole-in-the wall pubs, Divine’s was the real deal. The bar extended 10 metres across one wall, with spirits and wines proudly on display, the floor was polished concrete, and seating included chrome bar stools and tables, and mahogany chesterfields flanking teak coffee tables. I sidled up to the bar, ordered a sparkling red, and scoured the room for Klaus. He was nowhere to be seen, so I perched myself on a stool at the bar and surveyed the area.
For a Christmas Eve it was quiet. Sure, there were the obligatory office girls in their Santa hats and flashing, bauble earrings and a few hopeful men plying them with alcohol, but apart from the Boney M Christmas album being piped through loud speakers, the silver tinsel looping from the bar and a small LED Christmas tree flashing blue and green and red and white, it hardly felt like Christmas.
‘Where is everyone?’ I asked the barman.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe spending the night with their families?’
‘Ouch,’ I said. ‘Of course. That’s if they have families to spend time with.’
‘Touche,’ he said.
I smiled at him and let him off. After all it’s Christmas.
‘So what’s your name?’ I asked. ‘I hope they’re paying you holiday rates tonight.’
‘I’m Nick,’ he said. ‘And yes, they are.’
‘Nick,’ I said. ‘Appropriate for this time of year. I’m Kat.’
He smiled back, and I noticed that this barman had a lovely air about him. He must have been in his early thirties, but with his hair streaked with grey and pulled back in a pony tail, he had an old soul vibe going on. His eyes were pine green. He had a stocky, Russell Crowe in Gladiator kind of build, which, to tell you the truth, I had always found irresistible. In a word, he was gorgeous...
Christmas is a time for giving AND receiving...
...and getting your Christmas itch scratched.
Forty-something freelance writer Kat Snow hates Christmas. With work at a standstill, no family to celebrate with and friends otherwise occupied, she considers the holiday season generally a depressing time of the year.
To beat the holiday blues, Kat decides to spice things up by spending Christmas Eve with the best present a girl could give herself... a hot young man... or two.
And in a delicious Christmassy twist, Kat's seasonal itch is scratched by Klaus and Nick... who are anything but the ghosts of Christmas past.,,
EXCERPT:
Divine’s was one of the newest bars in town and lived up to its name. In a city full of pop-up bars and hole-in-the wall pubs, Divine’s was the real deal. The bar extended 10 metres across one wall, with spirits and wines proudly on display, the floor was polished concrete, and seating included chrome bar stools and tables, and mahogany chesterfields flanking teak coffee tables. I sidled up to the bar, ordered a sparkling red, and scoured the room for Klaus. He was nowhere to be seen, so I perched myself on a stool at the bar and surveyed the area.
For a Christmas Eve it was quiet. Sure, there were the obligatory office girls in their Santa hats and flashing, bauble earrings and a few hopeful men plying them with alcohol, but apart from the Boney M Christmas album being piped through loud speakers, the silver tinsel looping from the bar and a small LED Christmas tree flashing blue and green and red and white, it hardly felt like Christmas.
‘Where is everyone?’ I asked the barman.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe spending the night with their families?’
‘Ouch,’ I said. ‘Of course. That’s if they have families to spend time with.’
‘Touche,’ he said.
I smiled at him and let him off. After all it’s Christmas.
‘So what’s your name?’ I asked. ‘I hope they’re paying you holiday rates tonight.’
‘I’m Nick,’ he said. ‘And yes, they are.’
‘Nick,’ I said. ‘Appropriate for this time of year. I’m Kat.’
He smiled back, and I noticed that this barman had a lovely air about him. He must have been in his early thirties, but with his hair streaked with grey and pulled back in a pony tail, he had an old soul vibe going on. His eyes were pine green. He had a stocky, Russell Crowe in Gladiator kind of build, which, to tell you the truth, I had always found irresistible. In a word, he was gorgeous...
