Wicked Winters: A Collection of Winter Tales
Page 1
Wicked Winters
A Collection Of Winter Tales
Contents
WICKED WINTERS
Spirit Of Christmas
Mila Young
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About Mila Young
Study Break
Lucy Smoke
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About Lucy Smoke
The Thief Of Hearts
Ripley Proserpina
1. The First Night
2. The Second Night
3. The Third Day
4. The Fourth Day
5. The Fifth Day
6. The Sixth Day
7. The Seventh Day
8. The Eighth Day
Epilogue
About Ripley Proserpina
All We Want
Anita Maxwell
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
About Anita Maxwell
Light Me Up
Rebecca Royce
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About Rebecca Royce
The More The Merrier
K.B. Everly
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About K.B. Everly
An Alpaca For Christmas
Jacie Lennon
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
About Jacie Lennon
WICKED WINTERS
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a sizzling romance … or seven under the Christmas tree!
Dash through the snow to the tune of holiday romance in this steamy winter collection. With seven cheerful sizzling tales of holiday magic and more, you’re sure to fall in love. Broken hearts. Hilarious situations. And more than enough heat between the sheets to keep you warm and toasty this holiday season.
Wicked Winters contains contemporary and paranormal romances, some stories with multiple love interests and some with only one steaming hot hunk. But all of them contain a bit of the holiday magic and some loving romance.
Happy Reading!
Spirit Of Christmas
Mila Young
On Leven, on Jax, on Tatum, and Nickie! Getting three Reindeer shifters under the Christmas tree may be Nickie’s reward for being a good girl.
The only Christmas spirit Nickie has is what she makes in her boutique distillery. But on a last-minute delivery, she runs into three buff bucks who believe she’s the key to finding the missing Santa Claus and saving Christmas.
Working with this new team of reindeer shifters, Nickie must outwit Krampus and fight off his wicked helpers while tracking down where he’s hiding Kris Kringle. But the more time she spends with the svelte shifters, the more she’s drawn to them.
When Krampus takes her sister too, Nickie and the sexy stags must risk everything to save the little girl. Which for Nickie just might include losing her heart to the hunky harts.
Spirit Of Christmas © Mila Young 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except for in the case of brief quotations for the use in critical articles or reviews.
The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
1
“I don’t date.” I shrugged as Dylan opened the trunk of a cab before heaving my oversized duffle bag inside. He pushed my bag in deeper, alongside my sister’s.
“Ever?” he asked, twisting his head to face me, and hope swirled in his eyes. His thin lips parted as if he had more to say. He’d been asking me out on a date since the first day I’d moved into my apartment in Compton, California. Dylan was a nice guy, and I’d seen the way other women flirted with him. But us not dating had everything to do with me. I didn’t have time. My priority was my sister. Putting food on the table. Nothing else. Plus, we were moving away, so what were his intentions? A long-distance relationship? That wasn’t going to work. Though I figured after I’d turned him down for so long, he thought this might be his last shot.
“Ever,” I answered, dusting my hands on my worn jeans, the holes in my knees frayed and my pleather boots scuffed through at the toe from years of wear.
“So what will you do when you arrive?” he asked.
I shut the trunk with a thump, the sound echoing through the early morning street where the sun barely peeked over the ocean of apartment buildings. Cars were parked alongside the curb, crowding the place. “I’m going straight to the airport.” Not change my mind and come back here because sometimes it was easier to accept the devil you knew. “I’ll call you as soon as Britta and I land in Austria.” Just saying the words felt surreal. I wasn’t sure if the knot in my gut was excitement or fear at leaving the country for the first time.
Dylan dragged me into his arms, and I hugged him back.
“Thanks for seeing Britta and me off. You’ve always helped us,” I said, remembering when we’d moved in. Britta and I’d had a backpack between us. Dylan had brought dinner to welcome us to the building, and he’d been my friend ever since and had even occasionally checked in on Britta
when I’d worked late at the pub.
“Gonna miss your door slamming and loud music.” He broke away, clearing his throat, and shrugged.
I’d gotten used to having him as a neighbor, but this wasn’t the first time we’d picked up and moved our lives, and not getting close to anyone always made it easier. But I’d let him into our world because he lived alone.
“Me too.” I patted down my T-shirt and wasn’t sure what to say. “I hate goodbyes.”
He chuckled. I’d miss his laughter. “Just promise me one thing, Nickie. When you’re making millions on the distillery you inherited, I better get a first-class flight to Austria.”
“It’s a deal!” I smiled, determined to keep my word.
With a comforting grin, he walked away, his hands deep in his pockets. My sister waved to him from the backseat. He strolled toward the apartment building that had flaking paint on the walls. Trashcans sat on the sidewalk waiting for collection. The railing on the front steps had rusted and someone had patched it up with duct tape. Like the rest of the neighborhood, it seemed as if it was barely holding itself together. And I wouldn’t be here when it came apart at the seams.
If everything went according to plan, Britta and I would never need to live in a rundown location again, and I had every intention of helping Dylan out however I could. God, I was already tearing up about leaving him. My only real friend. But I wouldn’t miss the drive-by-shootings or break-ins. No cop cars lighting up our place in the middle of the night when the police busted yet another drug den.
Britta shuffled out of the taxi and stared at Dylan, then me. “You know it’s gonna be just you and me for a really long time,” she said, pronouncing her ‘s’ as a ‘th,’ but today her lisp wasn’t strong. “Then when I meet someone,” she continued, “it’s gonna be just you.”
I smiled, pulling up the scarf around her neck to protect it from the brisk breeze sweeping through the streets, then holding her by the shoulders, I stared into her eyes. “You’re only twelve and that won’t happen for a long time. Until then, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Dylan’s nice, and he’s the best at building an epic blanket fort.”
With a quick hug, I nudged her back into the cab. “I’ll take that into consideration. Now get in. We have to go.” I climbed into the backseat with her and buckled up, waiting for Britta to do the same.
Nerves danced through my stomach like they did each time we moved locations.
“Ready to go, miss?” The driver started the engine, and the motor roared to life.
I took one last look at the place we’d called home for the past two years. The front steps where we’d sat and eaten ice cream on those scorching hot days, while the neighborhood kids had played tag on the street. That leak in my bedroom where I’d kept two buckets in my room to avoid damaging the floor so I wouldn’t lose my deposit. The late nights I’d get home from work, passing the working girls and pimps on the street corners, hating that Britta lived here.
But that was all behind us now. I prayed it was behind us.
“Yes, we’re ready to go,” I said.
My sister smiled and nodded. “I’ve been praying that in the next place we live in, the ice cream van won’t drive paset us, and will come down our street.”
“Me too!” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against me. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake with this change of lifestyle because I’d given notice to the landlord and someone had already taken our place.
“Wanna hear a joke?” Britta’s joyful voice chirped as she stared out of the passenger window of our rented hatchback. A winter wonderland of the Austrian Alps surrounded us, snow layering pines, the wind shaking their branches. Brilliant white drifted down against the dark, mossy trunks. The trees glistened like winter decorations that belonged on greeting cards.
I had never breathed in such crisp air before. When I’d told Britta we were moving to a new location in the Alps, she hadn’t stopped talking about how many snow angels she’d make. While living in California, we’d had a hand-to-mouth lifestyle, meaning we lacked money to travel. Now my heart burst with joy because I still couldn’t believe we were in Austria, our tickets prepaid, our new home awaiting us. Dad had once said something about his ancestors being from Austria, but when I’d asked him to say more, he’d shut me down. And we’d never met other family members to find about our ancestors.
“So,” Britta asked. “Want to hear the joke or not?”
“Sure, hit me,” I replied, as I drove us along a narrow road in the car the lawyer had arranged for me at the airport. We followed the curvy, upward climb, gripping the steering wheel to hold her steady. Even with chains on the tires, I wasn’t experienced in driving in these conditions. Give me traffic and wide roads any day.
“What do you get if you cross Christmas with an apple?” Britta stared my way, hugging a tiny reindeer plush toy to her chest. She’d insisted on bringing the gift I’d gotten her last year for her birthday rather than leaving it in the bags in the back. And as far as I was concerned, she could do whatever she wanted as we were starting a new life.
“Hmm, a holly apple pie?”
“What? That’s terrible. You’re bad at jokes, Nickie.” She grinned, well aware she’d never wanted me to guess the correct answer, so I played along.
“A pineapple,” she declared, then broke into a laugh.
“Ah, that’s a good one.” I glanced her way and smirked. “Are you writing these down in your notebook?”
She nodded, her tiny brown curls bouncing across her shoulders. Her crystal green eyes were a mirror image to our mother’s, while I had Dad’s hazel eyes, along with his dark chocolate hair. Mine reached halfway down my back after having it short while growing up. But our mother and father were two people I preferred to pretend didn’t exist, and for years, I’d done a solid job. They were both serving sixty years at Louisiana State Penitentiary for the attempted murder of a drug peddler. Yep, I’d grown up with narcotics in the house, and shady characters who’d paid too much attention to fourteen-year-old me, but I’d give Dad some credit. He’d always protected me against them. That was when he hadn’t been drinking and beating me.
An acute pain tensed in my gut as I remembered how Britta and I had spent days in the room under the stairs so my parents wouldn’t find us when they’d get drunk. A shiver trailed down my arms at the memory, the fear that kept me company. The endless tears. I wanted to forget that part of my life, put it down to a terrible nightmare. I’d dealt with all that shit, even after seeing them do weird shit like try to summon something demonic by drawing a circle with rum on the living room floorboards. I’d promised myself to never waste my thoughts on them again.
After my parents were imprisoned for attempted murder, childcare protection services had stepped in and taken Britta and me away, keeping us together from one foster home to another. I’d always felt lonely, but we’d stuck together, and three years ago when I turned eighteen, I’d become her legal guardian. With the few hundred dollars the from the foster care system, I got my bartender’s license and a full time job with help from my last foster parent. I worked my butt off at the pub to rent a small apartment. No other family had stepped forward to claim Britta, so the court had ordered her under my protection. I’d wanted only the best for her. To offer her the life I’d never had.
“I’ve collected eighty-seven jokes so far,” she said. “Thirteen more, and I’ll reach a hundred.”
“Are you still thinking of printing them?”
She nodded. “Everyone will be telling jokes this Christmas.”
“Can’t wait to get my copy.” I smiled, unable to remember the last time I’d seen her so happy. She’d never complained once on the long flight over here. Leaving California was the best decision even if we were taking a risk moving to a small town in Austria. It wasn’t every day I found out I had a long-lost uncle, Leon, who’d just left me his whiskey distillery. He was apparently Dad’s stepbrother. My grandma ha
d fallen pregnant when she was young to a man from Austria who’d visited the States. The relationship didn’t last. But the lawyer said Leon had moved to live with his biological father in Austria when he turned nineteen, cutting all dies with our family.
This was the change I’d needed, where I no longer worried about our apartment getting broken into, someone stealing my belongings, and hurting Britta and I. Most importantly, where I didn’t get paid shitty hourly rates at the local pub with drunks who tried to either grope me or start a fight.