by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
Once again, The Indie Six brings you six all-new novellas. With warmth and joy, heartache and healing. And I’m thrilled to add to my novella series, SPURS, STRIPES and SNOW with this wonderful story of forgiveness and love.
As always, I love hearing from you. Please shoot me an email at [email protected] and let me know your thoughts on the new series.
All my love, happy reading, and Merry Christmas!
Laura
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Laura Wright is passionate about romantic fiction. Though she has spent most of her life immersed in acting, singing and competitive ballroom dancing, when she found the world of writing and books and endless cups of coffee she knew she was home. Laura is the author of the bestselling Mark of the Vampire series and the USA Today bestselling series, Bayou Heat, which she co-authors with Alexandra Ivy. Laura lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young children and three lovable dogs.
Books by Laura Wright
SPURS, STRIPES and SNOW Series
1. SINFUL IN SPURS
2. SINFUL IN SNOW (In the ALL HE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS anthology)
CAVANAUGH BROTHERS
1. Branded
2. Broken
3. Brash
4. Bonded
BAYOU HEAT Series
Bayou Heat Raphael & Parish Book 1 & 2
Bayou Heat Bayon & Jean-Baptiste Book 3 & 4
Bayou Heat Talon & Xavier Book 5 & 6
Bayou Heat Sebastian & Aristide Book 7 & 8
Bayou Heat Lian & Roch Book 9 & 10
Bayou Heat Hakan & Séverin Book 11 & 12
Bayou Heat Angel & Hiss Book 13 & 14
Bayou Heat Michel & Striker Book 15 & 16
Bayou Heat Rage & Killian Book 17 & 18 1001 Dark Nights Novella August 11, 2015
Bayou Heat Ice & Reaux Book 19 and 20
WICKED INK CHRONICLES (New Adult Series - 17+)
1. First Ink
2. Shattered Ink
3. Rebel Ink
4. Dirty Ink
MARK OF THE VAMPIRE
Book 1: Eternal Hunger
Book 2: Eternal Kiss
Book 2.5: Eternal Blood (novella)
Book 3: Eternal Captive
Book 4: Eternal Beast
Book 4.5: Eternal Beauty (novella)
Book 5: Eternal Demon
Book 6: Eternal Sin
HUNTED PACK
1. Gray 26 (coming soon)
MASTERS OF SEDUCTION SERIES VOLUME ONE
July 2014
MASTERS OF SEDUCTION SERIES VOLUME TWO
April 2015
INCUBUS TALES
Bayou Heat Boxed Set Vol. 1
Bayou Heat Boxed Set Vol. 2
Wicked Ink Boxed Set
HOME ADVANTAGE
by Skye Jordan
Acknowledgements
A big thanks to Delilah Raines of Riverina Romantics for her help with hockey terminology, plot brainstorming and beta reading.
And to The Alpha Six for giving me the support I needed during a trying time.
Chapter 1
Meier Grant peered through the wide plate glass windows of St. Nicholas Hardware, searching the darkness for signs of life. He cupped his gloved hands around his eyes to cut the glare from millions of Christmas lights reflecting off the snow and searched the shadows. There had to be someone here; a couple of lights still burned toward the back of the store.
“I know you’re in there, dammit.” His breath created a billow of condensation, obscuring his view. He shifted from foot to foot, as if that would keep the blood from freezing in his veins. He might spend half his life on the ice, but the exertion and adrenaline of hockey always kept him dripping in sweat.
Now he yanked off a ski glove and rapped his knuckles against one of the double glass doors again, then blew into his palm to warm it and raised his voice to yell, “Hello?”
No movement. No sound. Nothing.
Meier pulled out his phone and checked the time. A minute after six p.m. and he’d been standing here hammering on the glass for at least three. They’d closed early. Typical.
“Damn hick town.”
He shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and his hand back into his glove, then turned and looked both directions down Main Street, absent of life on this bitterly cold night just weeks before Christmas. Meier had grown up in Holly, North Carolina, so the storybook setting that belonged at Santa’s workshop in the North Pole didn’t faze him. Especially since the town was dressed up for Christmas three-hundred-and-sixty-five days of the year.
But he’d been gone long enough for the sugary-sweet gingerbread on every building to make him gag a little. And he was pretty sure Holly had to dominate ninety percent of North Carolina’s power grid from Halloween through New Year’s with all the lights and moving decorations.
A lone human figure dressed in a dark parka shuffled across the street and approached on the sidewalk. “Whatcha need there, son?”
The voice identified him as an older man. Meier caught a look at his face beneath the hood of his jacket, confirming he was in his sixties.
“Christmas tree,” Meier said. “If I go home without it, my mama’s gonna be pissed.”
The man harrumphed and narrowed his eyes. “Which mama would that be?”
“Hazel Grant.”
“You’re a Grant boy?”
“Meier.” He was trying to put a name with the man’s face. “Mr. Lowry?”
A smile broke over Lowry’s face. “Meier Grant. Well, I’ll be. There’s a star in our midst this Christmas.”
Meier grinned. Maybe coming home for the holidays wouldn’t turn out to be so bad after all. He’d grown out of that awkward, lanky, acne-laden kid who’d only been good at one thing—hockey. Back then, he’d melted into the crowd, followed the pack, and observed.
Now, he was muscled, fit, and good at two things—hockey and women. He no longer followed the pack but led his team. No longer observed but made moves that put him at the top of his game—literally.
And Meier smiled, realizing just how far he’d come in eight years.
“What are you doing here?” Mr. Lowry asked. “Shouldn’t you be on the ice?”
“Shoulder injury. I just finished physical therapy. Now I’m waiting for the docs to give me the final clearance to head back into the fray.”
And, God, he could not wait.
“Bet your parents are glad to see you.”
That was highly debatable. Meier made a face and glanced toward the store again. “Not so much if I don’t come home with a tree.”
“Aw, you just missed her. Saw her leave ’bout ten minutes ago from my shop across the street. She ducked into Yuletide Spirits. Can probably still catch her. Can’t miss her. Still the prettiest little blonde in town. No doubt you could sweet-talk her into coming back to reopen and get your tree. She’s great like that.” He slapped Meier’s arm before moving on. “Welcome home, kid.”
“Thanks. Good to see you.”
Meier slid into the driver’s seat of the SUV he’d left running and sat there a moment with the heat full blast, thawing his face and fingers. When he’d warmed up, he turned the car off and started up the block toward the local bar.
Snow padded the cobblestone streets, but Meier could still feel the familiar roll beneath his feet. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, and he pulled the brim of his ball cap lower. He hadn’t sweet-talked a woman in quite a while. In fact, by the way he was drawing a blank, maybe never. Since he’d signed with his first NHL hockey team at twenty years old, he hadn’t needed to. None of the guys were ever short on puck bunnies.
Every iron lamppost on the street was wrapped in greenery and lights, throwing a rainbow of dappled color across the snow. Every building flashed in a variety of patterns adding a certain cheerful chaos to the mood, and despite his reluctance to return home for the holiday, the sight brought great memories of long winters on the ice with his budd
ies. Pickup games of hockey to stay away from his parents’ critical eyes. Hours and hours and hours of hockey practice—for club teams, for the high school team. For any team who would have him.
He passed some businesses and stores that had been in town forever and some that were brand-new. All had Christmas-themed window displays, each more ornate than the next. A flower shop, chocolate shop, gift shop, bookstore and coffee shop, and, of course, what would Holly be without a Christmas store?
As he reached the door of Yuletide Spirits, he smiled to himself and murmured, “All that practice paid off.”
At the pub’s front door, Meier stood aside as three people stepped into the night, bundled against the cold. Voices and music, laughter and the click of glasses spilled out with them. Meier kept his head down, hoping no one would recognize him. He’d have plenty of time to catch up with old buddies if any were in town. Right now, he wanted to get that damn tree, get home, and fall into bed. The NHL might be keeping him out of the games, but they couldn’t keep him out of the gym, and between working out, strategizing with teammates from the sidelines, and traveling with the team, Meier needed some heavy-duty Z’s.
Which was why another wave of annoyance pinched his gut as he pulled open the door to the bar. He hadn’t been home an hour before his mother had sent him on this errand. His father hadn’t even bothered to get his ass off the sofa and help. Of course, Meyer’s brothers, the golden children who worked for the family software company, weren’t in town yet. Convenient.
He stepped into the bar, then out of the doorway, taking a minute to let his eyes adjust while he searched for this “prettiest little blonde in town.”
The space had been upgraded over the years, and a mahogany bar stretched along one wall, complete with antique brass footrests. Behind that, bottles of alcohol lined the mirrored surface across the wall. The seating area combined booths and tables in dark wood that gave the place that true Irish pub feel, rivaling some of the most authentic pubs Meier had visited during his travels in Boston, Philly, and Chicago.
Too bad they’d gone and fucked up a good thing with all the Christmas crap—on the walls, on the tables, art, figurines, decorations…
The only blonde that caught Meier’s eye sat at the bar, chatting with a brunette. But this blonde was beyond pretty, and Meier instantly recognized Faith Nicholas—not someone he’d expected to see back in Holly. But she was probably visiting for the holidays, like half the other people in town.
From where he stood, she looked even prettier now than she’d been back in high school—if you liked the girl-next-door type, which Meier didn’t.
Her hair was cut shoulder-length and styled straight and sleek, but that was where her sophistication ended. She wore jeans, a thin tweedy-looking sweater, and low-heeled, knee-high, tan suede boots. Typical casual, small-town country girl. Meier had only been here an hour, and he was already missing the refinement of the city.
The sooner he got that tree for his parents, the sooner he could go to bed and forget he’d ever agreed to come back here. And Faith Nicholas would be the most likely person to know the identity and location of this blonde running her father’s store.
He stepped forward just as a man strolled up to the bar beside Faith. He leaned his elbow on the shiny mahogany, and whatever he said drew the gazes of both women, giving Meier a better look at Faith.
With one of the bar’s spotlights spilling over her, Meier realized he had to adjust his assessment. Faith Nicholas wasn’t just pretty, she was…his mind skipped past hot, breezed past beautiful, paused on gorgeous for a second, but ultimately settled on stunning.
Her cheekbones, the shape of her face, her smile… She was the kind of woman Meier enjoyed looking at. The kind of woman he would have locked on to at a party and worked the crowd until he’d been introduced, started a conversation, and held her complete attention.
Which brought Meier’s thoughts around to Dillon Brady, the high school football star who’d carried Faith on his arm all four years. The couple had been slated for marriage and kids immediately after college.
Meier glanced around the bar again, this time searching for Faith’s other half. But no one even resembling Brady caught Meier’s eye. Nor did any other pretty blonde, and he returned his gaze to Faith. She would probably know who was running the store and where Meier could find the woman. But the guy was still there, trying to make headway. He was an all-around average guy. Average height, average build, average looking, average dress.
Meier glanced at his watch, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. If she was the same Faith she’d been in high school, this wouldn’t take long. She’d been the valedictorian, the head of half a dozen different clubs, the star of the swim team, the homecoming queen, and the girlfriend of the most popular guy in their class, if not the school. She’d certainly never taken a second look at Meier, who’d been as average then as the Joe chatting her up now.
While he waited, Meier glanced at Faith’s left hand, surprised to find it bare.
“Wonder what happened to Mr. Football Star,” he muttered under his breath.
But he didn’t have much time to wonder, because Average Joe had already been shot down and returned to his table, while Faith and her friend picked up their animated conversation again.
“Some things never change.”
But some things did. Like Meier. He’d changed three hundred percent. He might not feel the need to prove himself to the people of this town anymore, but he was going to have to turn on a little of his swagger to get her to help him out tonight.
No problem. Nowadays, Meier had swagger to spare.
* * *
“And another one bites the dust.” Faith’s best friend, Lily Dare, shook her head in disgust.
Faith gave Lily her get-serious look. “He undressed my Barbies in second grade.”
“Everyone undressed Barbies in second grade.”
“Not like him. Creepy, I’m telling you.”
“What’s creepy is that you remember how he undressed your Barbies in second grade and that you still hold it against him.” Lily used her wineglass to point at Faith. “That’s creepy. You’re not looking for forever here, Faith. You’re looking for a date. You’re looking for casual. You’re looking for a—”
Faith plugged her ears. “La-la-la-la-la.”
Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Anyway, nothing any guy did last month, let alone in second grade, matters. You have to shift your thinking.”
“What I’m looking for is more of these.” Faith picked up her second glass of Jingle Jangle punch and sipped, then licked the sugar from the rim off her lips, and savored the delicious blend of juice, berries, vodka, and Grand Marnier. “These I can do. That other thing”—she shook her head—“not for me.”
“You’re not even trying, for God’s sake. How can you claim it’s not for you if you haven’t even tried?”
Faith glanced around the bar, half-filled on this colder than average December night. She recognized as many locals as she did tourists. And she would rather talk about almost anything than the conversation Lily brought up more and more often lately.
“Here’s the thing, Lil,” she said, voicing one of her more ridiculous fears only because she was too tipsy to be worried about humiliation. “I might have known what to do with a man once upon a time, but honestly, that was so long ago, I can’t even remember. From what I see on TV, in movies, on Twitter and Facebook, times have changed so much, it’s a whole different sexual world out there. Seriously,” she said, lowering her voice, “the last time I was with a guy, no one even talked about pussy-scaping or Brazilian waxes. Lord only knows what else is going on in the modern world of sex.”
“Oh, come on. Sex is sex. You can only do it so many ways. Insert tab A into slot B.”
Faith’s face heated and she shook her head. “I can’t have this conversation. Let’s talk about something else. Okay, yeah, let’s talk about what I’ve been trying to get you to t
alk about for a month, but you’re always too busy. Tell me what you’ve got cooking on YouTube this week. How have your holiday numbers been?”
“I’ll talk shop on one condition,” Lily agreed, undeterred. “You flirt with the next guy who comes up to you.”
“Flirt? I don’t think I’ve flirted since high school.”
“You work around men all day. You must flirt with some of them.”
“Ew. No. They’re like brothers or uncles. I grew up with most of them.”
“Then they have to flirt with you.”
“Ew times two. No. They think of me as a sister or a niece.”
Lily’s laugh said she knew different. “I can guarantee that isn’t true.”
“Whatever.” She waved the topic away. “I’ve been thinking of trying out what you’re doing, but changing it up by replacing your topics of organization and recipes with hardware-and-fix-it-related subjects. You know, repairing a hole in drywall, fixing a leaky faucet, that sort of thing.”
Lily had developed her hobby of blogging and creating YouTube videos into a full-fledged, lucrative career. It wasn’t something Faith ever believed could benefit her, wasn’t anything Faith knew much about or had ever considered doing, but right now, Faith was looking at all possibilities.
“I really need to do something. Even with the increased holiday sales, the store isn’t going to keep me afloat. And if it’s not keeping me afloat, it won’t keep anyone afloat, which means I wouldn’t be able to sell it if I tried. So, what do you think? Think the videos are worth the time?”