Roseville Romance

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “I think that’s it, Edison. Let’s call it a day. I can still make it to UPS before it closes.”

  Freddie stirred in the pack ’n play next to the couch. The grant shit was making even him nervous.

  “No, let’s go through it one more time.” I held onto the papers he was trying to pry from my hands.

  “My love, it’s time to send it off. You’ve been through them dozens of times.” Liam’s voice shook me in the best way possible, and I accidentally let go of the papers as a reaction.

  “You can’t do that to me,” I joked and turned my face up to him for a kiss. He was coming from the bedroom, where he’d been changing Freddie’s sheets. “You know your voice makes me surrender every time.”

  “I hope it does, always.” He kissed me and then nipped my earlobe.

  He reached down and pushed a stray curl from Freddie’s face. His honey-blonde hair shone in the sunlight filtering through the window.

  The phone rang, and Liam went to answer it while I watched with a nervous gut as George straightened our grant proposal and stuck it in an envelope.

  Let’s hope this works.

  While I watched George, I listened to Liam make a lot of mmm-hmm noises and then begin to speak quieter as Anderson came into the room with his latest Lego creation.

  “Look at this. It only took me an hour.”

  That was his new thing. He not only made creations, he timed himself making them.

  “Dude, that’s cool. Why don’t you show it to George?”

  I got up from the couch, alarmed by Liam’s face going white and a look of sadness coming over his face.

  “What is it?” I mouthed.

  He shook his head and then said goodbye to whoever was on the other line.

  “What?” I repeated after he’d hung up.

  “Anderson’s dad got out on parole and left the country. He signed over his parental rights on some document and mailed it to Amy. That was her.”

  I gasped. “He won’t be able to come back. That’s not allowed, leaving the country.”

  He nodded. “I know.” My mate wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the side of my neck.

  “Who would ever want to give up on him?” I asked, as we both looked at our older son. Then the reality hit me. Anderson could really be ours. We could adopt him now.

  No one could take him from us.

  “We should ask him,” Liam said in my ear, making me shiver. “Let it be his decision.”

  I nodded in agreement. Letting him decide would empower him. He needed that boost.

  George left a few minutes later and while I fed Freddie, Liam talked to Anderson for a while about his latest Lego toy.

  “So, Daddy Edison and I wanted you to make a very big decision.”

  Anderson’s brow furrowed, and he squared his shoulders as though the weight of said decision was already getting to him.

  Liam began again, “We want you to be our son, well, you already are to us, but officially our son. We would go before a judge and adopt you. You would be a Delmonico, just like the rest of us. Anderson Delmonico. We’d all have the same last name.”

  Liam tried to continue, but tears were already in Anderson’s eyes, and he blurted out the word yes before we could really give him the decision.

  “Buddy, are you sure? Do you want to think about it? Even if you say no, you can still live here, and we’ll still be your second dads. Please don’t think it would change a thing if you said no.”

  One day we would tell him the full story about his dad and parole and fleeing to another country, but for now, the facts were enough.

  “I want to have the same last name. Can we go today?”

  Gods, I love that kid’s spunk.

  “Not today, kid. But tomorrow morning, I will go in and file the papers. If you change your mind overnight, you have to let us know. Okay? We will love you no matter what.”

  “I love Freddie. I want to be his real brother.”

  His chin quivered while he spoke, and when he said brother it came out as bruvver. I broke, crying along with him. As I nursed Freddie, some of my tears hit his little face.

  “You are his real brother.”

  “Hear my words,” Anderson said, stomping. “I want to be adopted.”

  Hear my words was what I said to Anderson when he wasn’t listening to me. It was funny he mocked me in this moment.

  Yeah, the boy was already our son.

  “Then you will be. We love you, Son. Come here.”

  We folded him into our arms, and I did so awkwardly, Freddie still attached at the spigot, but we made it work. Soon he was onto the next thing, going back to make something new in under six minutes.

  Liam hooked his finger under my chin and pulled me up for a kiss.

  “Mmmm, you always taste like candy,” I groaned.

  “I’m so glad you keep your New Year’s resolutions,” Liam joked and took Freddie from me since he was finished.

  “Me, too, alpha mine. Me, too.”

  Epilogue

  Liam

  The proudest day of my life, I woke early and showered, dressed in my spiffy new blue suit pants, a white button-down and two-toned blue patterned tie. Gleaming black loafers. I tiptoed downstairs and made fresh-squeezed orange juice. I brewed coffee and poured milk. Set the breakfast table and smiled at the red-circled day on the calendar. Stirred oatmeal, ladled it into bowls, and topped it with blueberries, a spoonful of brown sugar and rainbow sprinkles.

  Then I hollered up the stairs, “Breakfast is ready. All you Delmonico people better get down here before your oatmeal is concrete.”

  Then I poured coffee in my World’s Best Dad mug—one of a pair at our house. And as footsteps thundered down the stairs, I settled down to breakfast with my family. They, unlike me, were all still in pajamas, but I expected that. We still had plenty of time, but I’d learned that with a baby in the house, if I woke early, I showered and got ready for the day. The demands on a family man were many and varied and if I didn’t take advantage of those few quiet minutes, I might not get a shower at all.

  Anderson, who was not quite a Delmonico but would be in a few hours, if all went well, shoveled hot cereal into his mouth. Despite having a daddy who was literally the candy man, our elder son gobbled healthful food at every meal. He’d filled out a little more every day until his cheeks were rosy, his eyes sparkling.

  “Daddy Edison, when will the pool be built at the center?” he asked through a mouthful of oatmeal.

  Edison looked up from feeding Freddie a bit of cereal. “Son, what do we say about talking with your mouth full?”

  He grinned, showing more of what was in his mouth than was strictly nice to see. “Say it don’t spray it!” he crowed, and doubled over, chortling.

  I sighed. Sometimes there were more clowns than fit in a clown car at our table. “Okay, everyone. You need to finish up and go get dressed.”

  Anderson arched a brow at Edison. The kid was way too cute for his own good. “The pool? Soon?”

  “We have a pool here, Anderson,” I told him. “We’re happy to take you there anytime.”

  “But I can’t swim…and I need to take lessons.”

  Edison wiped Freddie’s mouth with a corner of his pajama shirt. “I told you, it’s going to be a few months, but Harris, the lifeguard who will work there, gives private lessons. We’ve arranged for him to come to the pool here in the complex, though, starting next Saturday so when the pool at the center opens you’ll be ready to go.”

  “Yay. Maybe then I can help him teach the other kids.”

  I loved his positivity. He attacked all new skills like that, and generally with success. “Maybe so, buddy. Now go hop in the shower and get squeaky clean. Then wake up your sister. I know she’s a lollygagger, but today is too important.

  We didn’t put sprinkles in the oatmeal every day of the week.

  “I’m up.” Janelle covered a big yawn with her hand. “And dressed. Look.”

 
Our preteen had indeed dressed, but not in anything I’d want anyone in court to see. Her favorite worn leggings, a purple pattern with faded flowers, and a baggy T-shirt. Bare feet.

  “Janelle…” Edison warned. “Unless you want the judge to declare us unfit dads, go put on the outfit we helped you pick out last night.”

  “Can I eat first?” She had just the edge of rebellion in her voice which we had been warned was typical of her age. “I’m starving!”

  “Eat!” I ordered, pointing to her seat. “But then you’ll have to hurry.”

  Six months after Freddie’s birth, almost to the day, we were going to finalize the adoption of not one, but two children. Janelle had been a shy, withdrawn thing at first, so tired of being moved, she didn’t even know how to feel.

  But because she was an orphan, and because we’d already been approved with Anderson, Amy and an adoption lawyer were able to streamline the process. Once our little Janelle realized we wanted to be her forever family, she came out of her shell.

  With sometimes explosive results.

  It took the two hours I’d planned on, but we made it to court in time. The judge, a very nice woman in her sixties with a lined face and soft, steady voice, took Anderson and Janelle individually into her office, accompanied by Amy. We had been told to expect this, that Her Honor liked to ask some questions before finalizing the process and not to worry. But with Janelle’s mercurial temperament, we couldn’t help it.

  Sure, we were thrilled to see her blossom into a real preteen with all that meant, but maybe the judge wouldn’t find her occasional outburst as charming as we—usually did.

  Anderson went first, and a few minutes after disappearing into the judge’s chambers, emerged smiling and winked at us. We took that to mean it went well.

  Janelle, well to my shock, she froze in the doorway and cast me a glance of such woe, my heart lurched. I started to stand, but our lawyer, Greg, put a hand on my arm and shook his head. Still, I couldn’t let our daughter be scared. She’d had enough crap in her life. I shrugged Greg off and hurried to her side. Edison, Freddie in his arms, and Anderson joined us all in a fast group hug.

  When we stepped back, not only did I have eyes damp with tears, so did everyone else. Including Greg and Her Honor. I bent close to Janelle and whispered, “We are a family, Jani. Go in there and say anything you want. It will be fine.” Then I kissed her forehead and stepped back.

  I hated sending her anywhere that scared her, but she marched in there and handled it like a champ. The judge emerged with an arm around Janelle and waved us inside.

  An hour later, we stood on the sidewalk with our three children.

  A family of five.

  My omega, cuddling Freddie to his chest, tipped his face up to me, and I bent for a quick kiss. The kids were not as perfectly groomed as I’d liked but they looked pretty awesome to me. We piled back into the van. “On the way to lunch, do you guys mind if we stop at the candy store real quick? I just need to check something.”

  “But I’m starving!” Janelle whined from the third row.

  “What else is new?” I muttered to Edison. Still…there was a time when both of our older children had been hungry for real. This normal whining from a child who’d not only had a healthy breakfast, but two granola bars and a yogurt since, warmed my heart.

  Without waiting for permission, or further reaction, I steered us to the store and forced everyone out to stand in front of the window which was once again concealed.

  A quick text to my employees and the red velvet, white-fur trimmed curtains parted to reveal our Christmas display. The North Pole residents had guests. A family remarkably like ours.

  “They’re gummy!” Anderson yelled, bouncing. “Look, Janelle! Look, Freddie! We’re all gummy! But why does the Edison Daddy have such a big belly?”

  Janelle snorted. “Does he really not know?”

  I slung an arm around my pregnant omega. No, he didn’t even show yet, but we had decided it would be a fun way to tell the kids the good news. At the rate we were going, we’d be like the old daddies who lived in the shoe.

  And loving every minute of it.

  Blurb

  Of course I’ve noticed him.

  He’s Hal, the singer who everyone loves and fawns over all night. There is no shortage of suitors surrounding his piano while he sings songs that drive directly into my heart. I wouldn’t stand a chance. So I sit here on my barstool and listen and pretend he might know I’m alive.

  But he never takes anyone home, and I doubt he’s going to start with me.

  I’m not the type of guy who approaches a man like him. I see him every night I perform at the Moonlight Lounge. The songs I choose are pointed in his direction, but nothing seems to make him look my way for more than a few seconds. His sweater vests and ties make him look a little uptight but I know there’s more. The way he bites his lip. The smooth manner in which he tips back his drink. The outline of biceps under the button down shirt I need to know him. Because my gut says he´s mine.

  The Alpha’s Cranberry-Kissed Omega is a MM non-shifter mpreg with a hot musical alpha, a ninja competitor, psychologist omega, and a holiday surprise meeting that sets everything in motion. The Alpha’s Cranberry-Kissed Omega is part of the Alpha Kissed series but can be read as a standalone.

  The Alpha’s Cranberry-Kissed Omega

  By

  Lorelei M. Hart

  Chapter One

  Hal

  The week before Thanksgiving brought more kids in since school started. With the almost-year-round school schedule giving them the entire week off, parents tried to schedule their cleanings and fillings and since we were only open three days, they all had to cram into that time frame. Not that we minded, but by Wednesday afternoon, Dr. Patrick Chen, my boss, his assistant, Suzi, and I were more than ready for some time off.

  And while they were done working, I had my other job to do every night starting tonight at the Moonlight Lounge. Usually I only played piano there three or four times a week, but the other entertainer was heading for Hawaii and her family for the holiday, and we always filled in for one another.

  Still, at this point, I’d welcome any environment that didn’t involve screaming toddlers and cranky parents who were making them scream because they were in a rush to get to the market to buy a turkey. Apparently, they’d just gotten the memo that they should serve that on Thanksgiving.

  To make matters worse, the pre-Thanksgiving night crowd at the lounge was a crowd in name only. It seemed even half-price beer and wine wasn’t enough inducement to bring the folks in. Hell, they were probably home making pies. Tomorrow was going to be even worse. With the twenty or so people scattered around the maroon leather booths and seated at the bar, there was no chance of missing the one omega I’d hoped to see.

  He’d been in a few times, either by himself or with a friend, and he wasn’t without a date because he had no offers. He’d sit on a barstool and have a glass of cab, leaning against the bar and watching me play. Alphas approached him every time, but he waved them off. I couldn’t figure out his game. He seemed to enjoy my music, but never came and joined the crowd around the piano. Never called out a request or approached me when I took a break.

  And since lots of guys wanted to chat up the piano player, I never managed to get to him, either. Okay...and because I wasn’t sure if he’d want me to and didn’t want to be embarrassed. Cowardly.

  But this weekend, no more cowardly lion. The guy looked like an ad for surfing the waves in on a California beach. His sun-bleached hair was a little long, like getting it cut wasn’t a priority. He had deep-brown eyes and full lips that revealed very white teeth when he laughed at something his friend said. His usual tight T-shirts showed admirable upper-body development. Not like a weight lifter, everything just as it should be. If you were a hot beach guy, that is. The bartenders didn’t know a thing about him—a total rarity for those nosy parkers—and I didn’t want to keep asking because they liked razzing me
about it.

  The night fizzled to a close with not much in the tip jar and only one slightly inebriated alpha requesting a lot of Black Sabbath. Not that I couldn’t accommodate him, but it wasn’t really lounge fare.

  Maybe my surfer boy was out of town with his folks. He sure wasn’t born and bred here, and those who weren’t cooking dinner for twenty people tomorrow were attending a dinner for that number, so the manager made the decision to call an Uber for tipsy-Sabbath guy and shut down early.

  A dreary, cold late fall weekend seemed in my future. Awesome.

  But once I drove home and climbed into bed, the long day and night overwhelmed me and I fell asleep right away.

  Thanksgiving dawned bright and clear. At least I think it did. I didn’t wake up until nearly eleven and then had to scramble to get showered and shaved and dressed for the Friendsgiving at Patrick and his omega, Damon’s house. I didn’t really know why I was going. It was just another day for single guys who didn’t have any local family and especially single guys who had to work afterward.

  But they were so anxious to have me, Damon so worried about me being all alone, that I’d caved. With my tremendous lack of cooking abilities, I’d been assigned to bring assorted olives and “fancy” paper napkins. As usual. It didn’t bother me, much. Nobody wanted scorched pumpkin pie or half-raw mashed potatoes, both of which I’d managed to create in the past. With a fine plan in place to grab what I needed at the store then hit the coffeehouse on the way to Patrick and Damon’s house, I climbed in my convertible and zoomed down the street.

  The grocery store was mobbed. I’d made fun of the patients’ parents who didn’t know they had to buy a turkey on Wednesday, but I’d had no idea how many would be buying them at noon on Thanksgiving Day. Even with my lack of skill in the kitchen, I knew it took a long time to cook one of those big birds. What time were they planning to eat?