Have you missed our Monday excerpts?  Me too!!!  Here’s a hot one from Nick’s story – I’m in the last throes of editing, so this is coming VERY, very soon.  Think of it as a belated Christmas present. 🙂

It’s the last Monday of 2013!  Stay tuned for Bright’s Ferry updates and the plan for 2014 later this week!

Nick - SMALL

Nick Kringle is having a rotten Christmas.  A huge disappointment to his chilly, holiday-stomping father, Jack Frost, Nick’s punishment for his refusal to take on the family business is exile to the human world, no magic allowed.  Luckily, his North Pole relatives take pity on him, letting him run Santa’s big city candy factory and store.  But Nick never counted on having to deal with customers, vendors, or Santa’s nitpicky Candy Manager, the lovely but tightly wound Phoebe Winter.  He’s never had a sweet tooth before, but everything about her sweet little figure has his mouth watering for a taste, despite the fact that her lists threaten to drive him out of his mind.  All he wants is a hot holiday fling to heat up his cold world.

Phoebe Winter is determined to be the best Candy Manager that Santa has ever had, even though it means controlling her magical sugar addiction and her impossible attraction to Nick Kringle.  Santa’s nephew has no right to be so hot, especially when he claims to be as coldhearted as his chilly father.  But when a jealous rival threatens to destroy Santa’s magical candy cane supply right before the holiday, Phoebe and Nick must work together to save Christmas.  Can Phoebe melt the icy shell around Nick’s heart?  Or will the passion between them melt away when the holiday is over?


Nick wrenched his mouth away and she whimpered in protest as he scooped her up, striding toward the stairs.

“I am not going to fuck you on a mountain of sugar.”

Phoebe moaned, the image filling her scattered brain, and felt his chest rumble in a rough chuckle.

“At least not this time,” he said wryly, “Elves.”

She was going to retort with something snide, but he smelled incredible, like sugar and spice and Nick.  Clutching his shoulders, Phoebe leaned in for a taste, swiping her tongue over his collarbone, pleased when he tensed under her mouth and held her closer.

“Hang on,” he muttered, maybe to her, maybe to himself.

Phoebe didn’t pay much attention, too caught up in the delirious pleasure of lapping the sugar from his chest, feeling her nipples ache and her wet pussy throb with every stroke of her tongue.  She vaguely recognized the change in elevation when he started up the stairs, and then he was juggling her to get the door open, kicking it closed behind them.

“Sorry about the mess,” he muttered.

“Not a probl—” Phoebe’s voice left her in a squeak as he slid her down the muscled length of his body.

Nick grinned.

“Let me get a fire started,” he said.

Moving a stack of books, he urged her into an armchair near the hearth.  Phoebe gave the place a cursory glance.  The apartment above the factory had traditionally been used for storage – it had been years since a manager had stayed in residence. It wasn’t much, just a bedroom, a kitchen, and this main room with a couch and a couple of armchairs.  Every inch of available space was covered in dusty cookbooks and paper.  And it was cold.  Phoebe felt a little pang as she realized that Nick had nowhere else to go.

“Give me a minute and I’ll get this place warmed up,” said Nick, crouching by the fireplace and reaching for the woodpile to the side, “and then we’ll see about getting you warmed up.”

He darted a hot, blue-green glance at her that threatened to send her up in flames, no matches required.

Two can play at that game, thought Phoebe, and as Nick carefully stacked wood in the fireplace, she deliberately sprawled back in the chair, letting her knees fall open and slowly inching her skirt up, the shhh of the crinoline loud in the quiet room.

She knew the moment he noticed.  Nick froze in the act of setting a match to the paper, his gorgeous shoulders tight, all smooth muscle under warm, sugar-streaked skin in the glow of the tiny fire.

“Feel like being naughty, little elf?”

Oh yes.

Phoebe slid the skirt higher, spread her legs further.  Nick jumped as the match burned his fingers and abruptly went out.  He hastily lit another, touched it to the newspaper, and promptly dismissed the fireplace as Phoebe rubbed a fold of crinoline over her desperate clit, the roughness sparking delicious quivers along every nerve.  The fire whooshed in the fireplace behind Nick as he crawled to her, a big jungle cat stalking its prey.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he ordered, and the demand had Phoebe moaning.

Her own fingers generally didn’t do much for her – Phoebe preferred toys or the real thing.  But the way Nick was watching her made the request so naughty, and her body responded with shocking enthusiasm.  Phoebe brushed her skirts aside and found the flesh of her pussy with her fingers, and her eyes were on his face as she stroked herself delicately, fingers slick with her juices, feeling his gaze on every swollen inch of her folds.

He stopped between her thighs and sat back on his haunches, running a hand over his mouth.

“Didn’t I give that greedy little pussy a good, thorough tongue-fuck just a few hours ago?”

He pressed her thighs wider with warm palms.

“But here you are, all wet and swollen again.  My mouth and my fingers weren’t enough to satisfy you?”

Phoebe cried out as he bent over her to flick her clit with his tongue, retreating quickly to watch her squirm and tremble from the sensation.

“Yes…no…please, Nick!”

“Think you can do better on your own?”

She couldn’t answer, since Nick placed his hand over hers , guiding her fingers down to her weeping core.

“All the way, Phoebe.”