Comet Claws (The Twelve Mates Of Christmas Book 5)

by Sable Sylvan

  “What is this?” asked Noel, fingering the precious metal rings.

  “Call it an early Christmas present,” said Connor.

  “Why five rings?” asked Noel.

  “Because I’d marry you five times over,” said Connor. “After all, you remember how the song goes, don’t you? On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…”

  “Five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree,” sang Noel. “How could I forget? But why would you only marry me five times?”

  “I think before we went for marriage six, we might need to go to marriage counseling,” joked Connor.

  Noel looked out over the Nuthusk Forest. She’d looked the place up on the Internet, but she hadn’t seen drone shots of the forest or any aerial views. She was sure none could compare with the real thing. The entire day had been filled with magical views, even though they’d gotten up at the ass-end of dawn to start flying Connor’s small plane down to one of his other hangars in Nuthusk. The trees formed a fluffy-looking tapestry of autumn colors. It was like looking at a bunch of colorful pom-poms from above.

  “The view is amazing from up here,” said Noel. “I’m so jealous.”

  “Don’t be,” said Connor, keeping his hands on the steering apparatus. “You’ll get to see this every year for the rest of your frikkin’ life.”

  “That a promise?” asked Noel.

  “Well, once I knock you up, this chopper won’t do,” said Connor. “We’ll probably have to get a jumbo jet for our litter.”

  “Connor, you best get that dirty talk outta your mouth now,” said Noel. “I’m sure your Clan Elders would wash your mouth out with soap if they heard you talk like that.”

  “Like Hell they would,” said Connor. “Where do you think I picked all that up?”

  “I guess I got my dirty mouth from my brothers,” said Noel, shaking her head. “Do you think Snow White talked like that after spending time with her seven ‘brothers?’’

  “Trust me – I think that unlike you, Snow White did have a reverse harem with those guys,” said Connor.

  “Okay, eww,”‘ said Noel. “As the Snow White in our story…trust me. She definitely was meant to be with just the one prince.”

  “How do you figure?” asked Connor.

  “Haven’t you been listening?” asked Noel in a huff. “I know…because I’m meant to be with you, my one prince.”

  “Well, I’m gonna have to share you with the whole Clan now,” said Connor. “Oh, come on – you know what I mean!”

  “You sure they’re gonna like me?” asked Noel.

  “Nope,” said Connor. “They’re gonna love you. Because I love you. And because you’re frikkin’ awesome.”

  Connor saw the helipad marked with a giant ‘H’ and smiled. He couldn’t believe the Clan Elders had really sprung for a helipad after all these years. He carefully landed the chopper.

  “Hey,” said Noel. “I, uh…got you something.”

  “You did?” asked Connor.

  “That’s right,” said Noel, reaching into her flying jacket. “Here. An early Christmas gift, for my big bear.”

  Noel took Conner’s hand and snapped a rubber band around it.

  “See?” asked Noel, pulling down her sleeve. “Matches.”

  “Noel is this…” Connor started.

  “When you shifted to save me, at the sled park, your bracelet broke,” said Noel, fingering the red and white bracelet. “Well…I got the pieces, and I sent them to my brothers. They have the shop, and they know how to do all kinds of things with stuff like vinyl and metal and even rubber. They fixed it up.”

  Noel turned the bracelet. Where the bracelet had snapped, the bracelet was now joined together with golden rubber, which filled the cracks between the parts of the bracelet.

  “Noel, I’ll always wear it,” promised Connor.

  “I know it’s not as fancy as these rings,” said Noel, fingering her necklace.

  “Noel, it’s perfect, because that was one of the most special days I’ve ever spent with you,” said Connor, kissing Noel on the forehead. “There was no way I could forget it before, and there’s no way I’ll forget it now.”

  Connor and Noel left their aviation gear in the chopper. Connor grabbed the big cooler from the back of the helicopter in one hand. He held Noel’s hand in his other. He led her to a familiar face standing with her toddlers on the edge of the large lawn outside of the Clan Marron lodge.

  “Emily!” shouted Connor. “Hey!”

  Emily and her two girls and two boys waved back at Connor and Noel.

  “Emily, meet my fated mate, Noel,” said Connor. “Noel, this is Emily. She’s the best person you’ll meet today.”

  “You don’t happen to be ‘that Emily,’ the one that got us together in the first place?” asked Noel.

  “In the flesh,” said Emily.

  “I don’t know how to properly thank you for indirectly introducing Connor to me, but hopefully these’ll do,” said Noel, taking Connor’s cooler and opening it up.

  “Are those pumpkin spice cupcakes?” asked Emily, inhaling the scent of the buttercream frosting and the fresh cakey goodness. “Connor must’ve told you they’re my favorite flavor. You know, I love small town living, but what I wouldn’t give for a cup of that pumpkin spice coffee they have in the big cities.”

  “Oh, like, this coffee?” asked Connor, pulling a package out of his large leather coat.

  Emily took the bag of flavored coffee from Connor.

  “This is perfect,” said Emily.

  “I thought Momma Bear deserved a treat that the younglings can’t raid,” said Connor.

  “Oh-ho-ho,” said Emily. “You think I can keep these rascals from getting into anything? I’m putting this in the safe.”

  “Oh, so I guess it was a bad idea to get the little ones a book on safecracking,” said Connor, pulling a picture book out of his jacket.

  “Connor, you’re gonna leave these poor babies without a mother, because that joke nearly gave me a heart attack,” said Emily. “Come on. Let’s get this all set up.”

  Emily let her kids run wild while she led Connor and Noel into the lodge, where they set the cupcakes up with the other desserts.

  “Are my kids watching us?” asked Emily.

  “No, why?” asked Connor, looking over the kids, who were playing cornhole on the lawn with one of their daddies.

  “Because I don’t want them seeing Momma Bear ruining her appetite by eating dessert first,” said Emily, eating two of the pumpkin spice cupcakes, one in each hand, very quickly. “Connor, you’re needed inside – and I mean like, now.”

  “Is this for…” started Noel after Connor gave her a quick smooch before heading off towards the chambers.

  “Yes,” said Emily. “Every year, until this Clan has no more bad boys left needing fixin’ up. Connor’s there to talk some sense into this year’s bad boy.”

  “Who is it?” asked Noel.

  “You see that van over there?” asked Emily, pointing to a giant pink van in the lot.

  “‘Rowan the Matchmaker,’ huh?” asked Noel. “Let me guess…”

  “He’s a matchmaker who can find love for everyone except himself,” said Emily. “I’m sure his favorite holiday’s Valentine’s Day. No way he’s expecting to find love this Christmas season. I may just be a shifter, but, I’m gonna go work some Christmas magic and charm him into those chambers. Connor and I’ll be back soon.”

  Emily finished her cupcakes and tossed the wrappers in the trash can. Noel smiled, getting ready to enjoy the show, as Emily walked out into the lot and approached the handsome man who’d emerged from the bright pink van. If Noel knew anything about Christmas magic, The Wreath, Krampus, Santana Claus, and all the others, she knew that the matchmaker was finally going to meet his match.

  The Twelve Mates of Christmas — A Sable Sylvan Christmas Spectacular

  Dear reader,

/>   In December 2018, I’m releasing twelve — that’s right, twelve — novella length romances in a brand new series called The Twelve Mates of Christmas.

  This series features BBWs, werebears and other types of shifters, and of course, lots and lots of Christmas magic!

  Follow Clan Marron as eight of their bad boys lose their shifts and learn the true meaning of Christmas. Then, follow the romances of Christmas demon Krampus, Santana ‘Santa’ Claus, and the ice elementals Boreas ‘Old Man’ Winter and Jack Frost.

  Trust me — you’ve never read a Christmas series like this one.

  Make sure to visit my Amazon author page often…that is, if you want to read my Naughtiest books yet!

  There’s a sneak peek of Dancer Claws coming up after this message! Are those sleigh bells I hear ringing…or is it the sound of a matchmaker that’s just met his match?

  xoxo,

  Sneak Peek: Cupid Claws

  His mistletoe ain't for kissing...

  Matchmaker Rowan Hooligan has helped Fate pair up many shifter couples, but he still hasn't found his fated mate.

  This werebear's meddling has gotten his furry butt on The Naughty List.

  Because Rowan put off his own search for a mate, he loses his mate mark and his shift. To get them back, he's going to have to get off of The Naughty List and claim his fated mate by Christmas.

  Oh, and he has to pull Santa Claus' sleigh on Christmas Eve.

  The only problem is, Rowan's a bad boy matchmaker. If he doesn't listen to Cupid -- Santa Claus' flying reindeer -- Rowan might end up losing his true love forever.

  Get ready for a very Merry Christmas.

  Rowan and Holly go together like candy canes and cocoa...

  When curvy baker Holly meets Rowan, she feels as if she's been shot by Cupid's arrow. It may be the Christmas season, but every day spent with Rowan feels like Valentine's Day.

  The only problem is, Rowan has a secret he's keeping from this BBW -- and he's doing things all wrong.

  The only thing that could possibly make things more complicated is one of Rowan's trademark singles mixers. Singles aren't the only thing mixing. When Fate and Christmas magic get mixed together like gingerbread dough in a mixing bowl, anything can happen.

  Has the matchmaker met his match?

  When Holly hears Rowan say something horrible, she assumes the worst. Will Rowan win back his true love in time for Christmas? And will he claim her before he loses his shift forever? There's only one book with the answer, and that's 'Cupid Claws.'

  This story, featuring a bad boy werebear and a BBW baker, is loosely based on The Ugly Duckling.

  Holly Luna was oiling up a pair of buns when somebody tapped at the window.

  Holly ignored it. After all, the buns were begging to be oiled up. She was sure that some kids had just thrown a snowball at the window on accident.

  The buns were round, glossy with oil, and squishy but firm at the same time. Soon, they’d be a perfect golden-brown color, just begging to be bit into. Heck, Holly already wanted to put her face right between the buns before taking a big ol’ nip of them in her mouth.

  They were the best buns she’d ever seen in her life — and she’d seen her fair share of buns. After all, she was a BBW — a big, beautiful woman — and that made her an expert on buns.

  She loved buns that were oiled up. She loved buns that needed oiling up. She loved buns that were golden brown, buns that were thick, buns that were tight, buns that were hard, buns that were soft, buns that were on display, and buns that were hidden away so that others wouldn’t grab the buns. She loved buns from all over the world, whether they were English buns, Irish buns, French buns, Italian buns, Chinese buns, Japanese buns, or Mexican buns.

  She was a bun lover.

  It was that simple.

  She especially loved buns with nuts.

  It was a winning combination. Buns and nuts went together like eggnog and candy canes.

  She wasn’t fond of buns with seeds on them. They just felt sandy to her.

  People loved having her oil up their buns. Heck, they paid her for it. Some had said she was the best in the business.

  Somebody tapped at the window again and called, “Holly?”

  That somebody was curvy — but most definitely not a snowball.

  Holly took off her gloves and opened the window.

  “Avery? What’s up?” asked Holly, looking at her boss, who was seated outside, a notebook in one hand, an empty mug in the hand near the window.

  “Would you be a dear and refill my coffee? I need to talk to you about your special project,” said Avery.

  “Sure thing,” said Holly. “I just need to finish up oiling these buns.”

  Avery raised an eyebrow.

  “You know what I mean,” said Holly, taking the mug and shutting the window before rolling her eyes.

  Holly put the mug down, washed her hands, put on a fresh pair of gloves, and took the olive oil glaze brush in one hand, using the other to turn around the focaccia buns. The bready buns were full of sundried tomatoes and olives and feta cheese. They were like fat little calzones — the petite BBW shaped version of calzones.

  Holly tossed her new gloves and refilled Avery’s coffee with the special blend of Christmas coffee — a combination of orange peel, spices, and nuts, was mixed into the beans before they were freshly ground by the ladies at Bear Claw Bakery. Holly made herself a cup of coffee too. Like Avery, she took hers with a good amount of cream and a hefty spritz of whipped cream. She sprinkled Avery’s special ‘Christmas dust’ on the top of the beverages. Holly had no idea what was in it, but it made the coffee taste divine.

  Holly slipped on her coat and outdoor shoes. She walked out to the back patio of Bear Claw Bakery. The fresh scent of the frosty Montana air hit her nose. The bakery smelled nice — how could it not? It was a frikkin’ bakery. It smelled of the cinnamon and sugar the old-fashioned donuts were rolled around in. It smelled of freshly brewed Christmas coffee, of hot pots of peppermint tea, and of white chocolate cranberry scones fresh out of the oven.

  But, to Holly, there was nothing better than the scent of the outdoors. The fresh smell of the Montana air was a welcome change from the stuffy atmosphere of Boston, where the brick and concrete and glass buildings all seemed to close in on her. On The Wreath, she didn’t have to worry about large slabs of ice falling ten stories from an office park and hitting her straight in the egg-noggin. On The Wreath, time moved more slowly, even as the days on the calendar counted down steadily toward Christmas. Everything on The Wreath seemed more peaceful. Even the snowflakes seemed to dance more gracefully in Montana.

  “Hey,” said Holly, putting Avery’s lucky mug down on the table. “What did you want to see me about, boss?”

  “Sit next to me,” said Avery, patting the seat next to her.

  Holly moved to sit next to Avery, facing out toward the lake.

  “You see that island over there?” asked Avery.

  “Yeah,” replied Holly. “You told me about it earlier — it’s Camp Kringle, the Christmas tree camp, right?”

  “Exactly,” said Avery. “I’m going to need you to make sure that whoever canoes over here, from over there, doesn’t end up distracting you.”

  “Wait, what?” asked Holly. “Rewind — who the heck is rowing over?”

  “Trouble,” said Avery, shaking her head. “This guy, Krampus, runs the camp. Every year, he has a different bad boy bear shifter helping him out with the Christmas tree harvest — and every dang year, for the last five years, the shifter has ended up causing trouble for me and my bakery.”

  “Ah, so they’re troublemakers?” asked Holly. “Don’t worry, boss. I can handle it.”

  “Err…well, they’re handsome devils,” said Avery. “He’s wrangled a marathon runner, a male stripper, a billionaire, a romance novel model, and a pilot…and each of those men has ended up finding his fated mate here at the bakery.”

  “Whoa, nobody said anything about f
ated mates,” said Holly. “Fate might give shifters mate marks…but I’m a human, and I don’t even have a fated mate. Trust me. I’m not looking to date a bad boy. I’m getting too old to be messing around with guys who aren’t looking for commitment. Call me a skeptic, but I don’t think the concept of ‘fated mates’ changes the fact that a bad boy is just that — a bad boy.”

  “Smart girl,” said Avery. “I don’t want you getting distracted from your task at hand. I need you to come up with an event for the bakery for the Christmas season. We’ve already got a place booked — the local community center, on the night of December the twenty-third. The only question is, what kind of party are we going to throw?”

  “It depends — do you want family friendly, or do you want it to be a sexy Christmas event?” asked Holly.

  “I thought you just said you weren’t looking to get into any Christmas mischief,” said Avery, crossing her arms. “After all, you wouldn’t want to get on Santana’s — I mean, Santa’s — Naughty List this close to Christmas.”

  “Trust me. I don’t want trouble, but I know what other people want,” said Holly. “The people that want to do something tame, like go caroling with their families, great. They have traditions. They’re not going to change their plans just because some bakery decides to throw a party. We need to target the people that aren’t doing stuff that night. The only question is, who are they, and what do they want?”

  “That’s exactly what you need to figure out,” said Avery. “I want you to come up with a plan for the event — you can leave the marketing to me. I’ve worked in this town for over a decade. I know everyone. I can get the bodies in the space…once you figure out what kind of bodies I need to be targeting!”

  “Ugh, ‘bodies,’ weird term, gives me the willies,” said Holly, shuddering. “I thought this was a Christmas party, not a Halloween party. Well, let me figure something out and get back to you.”