Hot for the Holidays (21 Holiday Short Stories): A Collection of Naughty and Nice Holiday Romances

by Anthology

  "Fuck me, Brayden. Show me I’m yours."

  After the scare I’d had, that’s all I wanted to do; reclaim my girl and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was still mine. I picked up the pace, digging my fingers into the flesh of her hips and driving into her.

  "Yes," she cried. "Like that. Harder, baby."

  "You like that?" I pounded my hips into her pelvis, pushing upward to hit her spot with each thrust.

  "Yes, fuck! I’m gonna come. Come with me."

  I leaned forward and hooked my arms under her shoulders to reach as deep as I could inside her and circled my hips, grinding my pelvis into hers. We both spilled over the other side simultaneously, rocking and moaning and panting. When I’d finished emptying into her, I collapsed forward and took her mouth.

  "That was so much better than turkey." I smiled, still buried inside her and she let out a laugh.

  "I’ll say."

  "Stay here. I’ll get a towel." I cleaned her and then myself and helped her down, just as there was a knock at the door. "Go grab the food, I’ll disinfect the table."

  "Good idea." She smiled then swayed that delicious ass as she turned and walked to the door.

  * * *

  An hour later, I sat back, full from dinner. "Want another glass of wine?"

  "Sure."

  I reached the bottle across the table and filled her glass. I knew what came next and I was done worrying about it. We’d made it through dinner without a mishap, so maybe this day was finally taking a turn for the better. "Come on, it’s time to put your ornaments on our tree, too." I smiled at the meaning behind that sentiment. Once Casey was finally home, I’d ask her to move in with me and make this her home as well.

  "Ours, huh?" Casey smiled.

  "Yep." I beamed with pride at my girl, my Casey, the little girl from the park who’d already spent all these years with me, and we were only just beginning together.

  Something in the window caught my eye and I looked over. A slow smile spread across my lips. "Come." I reached my hand out to Casey. Her line of sight followed mine and then she smiled along with me and slid her palm into mine.

  Together, we walked to the large picture window and I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder as we watched the snowflakes fall. I’d been hoping for a white Christmas, and although it wasn’t officially Christmas yet, the timing couldn’t have been better. There was no better sign or time to do this. I pressed my lips to the tender skin below Casey’s ear and squeezed my arms tighter, admiring the way the lights from the tree played on her porcelain skin and the highlights in her hair.

  "You’re so beautiful."

  "Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself." She rested her head on my shoulder with a smile.

  I squeezed her hip and then took her hand in mine and led her to the tree. I had a few of her ornaments lined up on the coffee table and I handed them to her one by one. "So, what do you want for Christmas? I didn’t ask you this year."

  Casey shrugged. "I already have all that I want." She hung an ornament we’d made together at a ceramics class a few years back of a Christmas stocking. I handed her a snowflake.

  "Nothing? There’s nothing that you want?"

  Casey hung the snowflake then turned to me. "What if I wanted you forever?" She smiled, biting into my prompting of our famous line. I had hoped to coax it from her.

  I stepped forward, removing the gap between us and cupped her face, taking in the beauty of her. The eyes are the one thing that never change over time. They don’t age or weather, don’t wrinkle or gray. If you lived a full and happy life, they would light up with the same sparkle as a child, even in old age. I was looking into the identical eyes that I’d looked at that first day so many years ago. The same brightness shone out of them, pulling me in to join them. They were addicting. Intoxicating. Mine.

  Brushing my thumbs along her defined cheekbones, I quirked the side of my mouth as my sights slid down the petite line of her nose before landing on her parted mouth. I dipped my head to taste what was mine in a soft and tender kiss, barely touching her, but unable to resist the pull of them. My heart banged in my chest, exploding with everything I’d ever felt for this girl, and I couldn’t wait any longer.

  Instead of reciting my usual response, I dropped my hands. Her eyes opened slowly, almost drowsily as I tugged on a delicate string hanging from my pocket, displaying the last ornament I wanted Casey to hang. Twirling at the end of it was a white gold band, a heart shaped diamond sparkling rays of color as the lights hit it.

  "What if I promised you forever?"

  Casey’s eyes began to enlarge, changing from the hazy look they’d just harbored to more of a realization of what was in front of her until they were the widest I’d ever seen. Her lips parted and her eyes darted between mine and the ring I was holding in front of her. "Wh-What is that?" Her chest heaved. "What are you asking?"

  "I’m asking for you. Forever. A promise of your love. Of you." I took her ring finger between mine and positioned the ring in front of it. "It’s not an engagement ring. Not yet." My eyes slid to hers and I smiled reassuringly. "It’s a promise ring. A promise to give you all my love. To always be yours."

  A tear slipped from her eye as it fell to look at the ring perched at the tip of her finger, but she remained speechless. After all of the anxiety that I’d gone through, I was surprisingly calm as I stared at my forever, no doubt in my mind at what her answer would ultimately be. "So, what do you say? Do you promise me? Forever?"

  Her eyes shot back up to mine, glistening and certain. "Yes!" She wrapped her arms around my neck and peppered me with kisses all over my face. "Oh my God, Brayden, I can’t believe this. I love you so," pepper, "so," pepper, "much," pepper. I smiled, closing my eyes and taking in the feel of her lips all over me.

  "Can I see it?" she squealed.

  "Of course." I handed it to her and she twirled it in her fingers.

  "It’s beautiful. Perfect."

  "There’s a surprise inside."

  Her eyebrows knitted together as she inspected it carefully, then she squinted and pulled it closer when she found what she was looking for. Engraved in the inside of the band were the words, Promise You Forever, a turtle dove framing it on either side.

  "Oh, Brayden." She leaped into my arms and I caught her, dangling her down the front of my body. "I promise you forever, too. Our forever. Together."

  She kissed me then for the years we’d spent together and for the years to come that we’d spend side by side, standing right there, next to our first Christmas tree as the first snowfall fell outside, giving me the best promise anyone could ever give.

  Her.

  The End

  Find out who the girl was to finally knock the wind out of Blake’s sails in Celeste’s Live Me ~ a Pieces of Broken novel, now live on all platforms.

  Keep your eyes open for book two in the Pieces of Broken series, due to release late 2016!

  About Celeste Grande

  Celeste Grande grew up loving words. From an early age, it was easy for her to open her heart through pen and paper and come away with something poetic. She never thought anything more than releasing her emotions would come of it though. A workaholic that can’t keep still, in her ‘real’ life, she’s a Certified Public Accountant who dreams of writing sexy books all day long. When she isn’t working, she’s reading, writing, mommying and being a wifey to the love of her life. She lives in New York, and is still putting pen to paper. Live Me, a new adult romance, is her debut novel.

  Website

  www.celestegrande.com

  Email

  authorcelestegrande@gmail.com

  Facebook

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Celeste-Grande/753468191345511?ref=hl

  Twitter

  https://twitter.com/CelesteGrande

  Instagram

  https://instagram.com/authorcelestegrande/

  A Taste of Christmas

  By An
ne Carol

  Lauren Gotelli, daughter of a California winemaker, lives in a fantasy world as a writer of romantic fiction. The object of Lauren’s current love story is Tom, a rich and handsome wine club member. Little does she know that Brett, who works weekends in the tasting room, has a secret thing for her. When the unexpected happens at the holiday wine club party, Lauren must decide what matters most in finding true love.

  Chapter One

  While my hands framed his ruggedly handsome face, he peered into my chocolate brown eyes and slipped his finger inside my—

  "Lauren! Get your mind out of the gutter and wash these glasses," my older sister barked, jarring me out of my fantasy.

  "Sorry, Becca. I’ve got to get this line down before I forget it," I said, leaning over the paper, pen in hand.

  Becca looked over my shoulder, so closely I could smell her peppermint breath. "Why do you keep using our tasting room menus to jot down that trash? You should really keep a small notebook handy."

  I rolled my eyes. "Well, now you know what to stuff in my Christmas stocking."

  "Seriously, you’re wasting those papers. Those are supposed to be for the customers."

  "This coming from the girl who’s consuming all the mini candy canes that are supposed to be for our customers," I deadpanned.

  She grimaced. "I like fresh breath," she quipped. "Besides, nobody eats them anyway. I don’t know why Mom insists on putting these out. Most people prefer the lingering taste of wine on their breath."

  "I think it’s to make it more festive."

  "As if the overabundance of poinsettias and Charlie Brown Christmas Trees isn’t enough." She waved her hand around the mid-sized room, displaying the mini pine trees and the signature red flowers.

  Becca was right about that one. Mom loved decorating our winery tasting room for whatever season we were in, but she particularly loved splashing the room with Christmas accents every December. She always said in the wine business, you’re not just selling customers a product, you’re providing them with an experience; a get-away. Therefore, it was important to provide a cheerful and festive atmosphere.

  My mom was really good at the hospitality thing. Before she married my dad, a successful but humble Italian farmer, she’d worked in a local bed and breakfast. There she learned how to cook like a professional chef as well as cater to the needs of tourists. The job prepared her well for the many years she’d spend in the wine industry.

  My parents have owned this winery for as long as I could remember. Gotelli Vineyards was one of the first wineries in our region of Central California. Most people think of California wine country as Napa and Sonoma Counties, which are an hour to two hours west of us. While those are beautiful areas, we also have quite a booming wine country right here. I’m proud of my parents, George and Linda, because they built this winery from the ground up, and at a time when they were raising three young children: me, my sister Becca, and my brother Joey.

  The three of us kids grew up working for my parents, so it wasn’t a surprise that two of us—me and Joey—now worked for them full time. Joey, older than me at 26, worked with Dad on the agricultural end of things. Basically they were responsible for turning the grapes into wine. I’d graduated two years ago with a business degree, so I helped Mom take care of the business end, which included the tasting room. Becca, the oldest sibling at 27, worked on weekends and special events, but by day, she taught kindergarten.

  Because of my mother’s gift of hospitality, our winery had become one of the more popular ones in our area. It wasn’t the biggest or fanciest winery, but we had one of the most active wine clubs, mostly because we put a lot into connecting with customers and members. We had a great website, weekly live music, monthly movie nights, contests, and amazing wine club parties.

  Did I mention the parties?

  One of the biggest parties was coming up in another week, and I had yet to find a date. I had someone in mind, but it was more fantasy than reality. I had my hopes, but I knew there was no way this guy would go with me.

  "So may I ask who you’re writing about?" Becca asked, as she set out fresh wine lists and arranged the clean glasses.

  "Nobody," I claimed. "It’s just a story that came to me." Okay, so I was bending the truth. I’ve loved reading and writing romance stories since I was a pre-teen, and when I wrote, I usually had the object of my current crush in mind.

  "Sure, Lauren." She raised her eyebrows at me. "I think I know who it is. Is it—"

  "Shh!" I hushed her as one of our tasting room employees walked in.

  "Hello, Brett Mayer," she called to him, but winked at me.

  "Hey, did I miss something good? Looks like you two were in a huddle," remarked Brett, as he came in and started washing his hands.

  Placing her hand on her hip, Becca responded, "Oh, we were just talking about this wonderful Chris O’Donnell look-alike who works with us on weekends in the tasting room. Right, Lauren?"

  Brett’s face flushed pink and he shook his head, chuckling. "Nice. I’m flattered," he said sarcastically.

  Narrowing my eyes at Becca, I was about to say something nasty when our mom strolled in and flipped on some music. "It’s almost show time. Let’s liven it up in here."

  Staring at her gaudy Christmas sweater, which she probably bought at one of those church boutiques, I raised my eyebrows. "That shouldn’t be a problem. All they have to do is look at your sweater. Does it light up, Mom?" I teased.

  "Very funny. I know you girls don’t care for my sweaters, but I love breaking these out every year," she said with all the confidence in the world.

  "I happen to like it, Linda," said Brett cheekily.

  "Kiss up," I said with a mischievous grin.

  "Thank you, Brett." Mom came over and gave him a side squeeze.

  Brett had been with us on the weekends for about four months, and he was a pretty nice guy, though I didn’t know much about his personal life. Becca wasn’t off the mark, he was definitely a dead ringer for Chris O’Donnell, and sometimes I wondered if my sister harbored a secret crush on him. As for myself, I went for the tall, dark, and handsome types. Like—

  My thoughts were interrupted when "Last Christmas" by Wham came through the speakers. I cringed. "Oh, this song…" I buried my face in my hands.

  "What’s wrong with it? Not a fan of ‘80s holiday tunes?" Brett asked, as he opened up the reds we were pouring today.

  I stood upright and answered, "Oh no, it’s not that. It just reminds me of, well, last Christmas." I wrinkled my nose. By now the torment I’d experienced was long gone, yet whenever I thought about the year and a half I’d wasted on Mark, it still made me angry. I thought he’d be "the one," until I found out he was cheating on me just before the big holiday party last year.

  "Long story," I said, shifting myself to face the back counter. "Where are the rice crackers?" I asked, attempting to divert the conversation.

  Becca handed me the bag of crackers, and I started filling the bowls along the front countertop. I didn’t realize she was following me until I heard her whisper, "So is it Tom?"

  At the mention of that name, my skin buzzed. I nodded, smiling.

  Tom, oh how you dazzle me. Tom was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Add to that rich and charming. He was the full package. Tom belonged to a number of wine clubs here and in the Napa Valley, but for whatever reason, he favored ours. Probably because we attracted a large number of single women, thanks to my brother’s good looks and my sister’s wide circle of teacher friends.

  But I couldn’t think about that. In my fantasy, he wanted me. In my fantasy, he’d sneak behind the counter, grab me by the waist and carry me off into the sunset. We’d travel the world together, make passionate love on a beach in the Caribbean, and maybe have a few gorgeous dark-haired angels.

  Yeah, right.

  Becca snickered.

  I scowled at her. "What?"

  "You. I see that faraway look in your eyes." She nodded toward the e
ntryway. "Better snap out of it. Our first guests are about to arrive."

  Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath, I tried to clear my head of all dirty thoughts, until a warm hand on my arm forced me back to the present.

  "Helps if you open your eyes," Brett said, squeezing my shoulder. I looked up and saw him smirking at me.

  A spark ran through me. Woah, what was that?

  I whipped my head around the room, thinking perhaps Tom had snuck in and my body was reacting to his presence. He was the only person who did that for me, I thought.

  "I’ll take these ladies, if you want to help that couple coming in," Brett said, gesturing toward a group of older women who were walking in, followed by a middle-aged couple holding hands.

  "Sounds good. I know you like the ladies," I kidded.

  Brett was such a magnet for older ladies. I loved how he flirted with them; and I’m sure they loved getting attention from a cute young guy.

  While Brett was busy charming the seniors, I checked out the couple approaching the counter. The man was striking for a fifty-something year old: handsome face, nice physique, dark tousled hair, and salt and pepper stubble that was surprisingly sexy. And, the way he looked at his lady made my head swim—he adored her. She was a pretty blonde, in her forties or fifties, and you could tell she’d taken good care of herself.

  "Hi, folks, how’s your Saturday going?" I asked, trying to make eye contact, but I’m not even sure they knew I was here.

  He slid his arm around her neck and kissed her cheek. "It certainly started off nice," he said softly.

  Damn, an English accent.

  "David," the woman said, smiling sheepishly.