Just a short intro to the Kringle men for your Monday evening. Enjoy!

BAH HUMBUG, thought Nick Kringle as he leaned on the railing, looking down on the merry party underway on the factory floor.

Christmas was still two weeks away, but the season was in full swing, and though Nick knew that throwing the candy factory workers the mother of all Christmas parties was not only expected, but also the nice thing to do, he resented it with every fiber of his being. Part of the problem was that he knew what was riding on them getting all of their orders, regular and magical, out the door on time. The other part of the problem was that Nick Kringle hated Christmas.

He hated the cheer, he hated all the happy laughter and joyous reunions of family and friends.

He hated wrapping paper and ribbons and pine trees and twinkly lights. And eggnog.

Especially fucking eggnog.

The whole holiday baffled him, though Nick had to admit, as he looked down on the workers whirling tipsily around the makeshift dance floor and catching each other under the mistletoe, that he might be biased. He’d been taught from an early age that a cheery smile meant someone was hiding something, friends were likely to stab you in the back, and Christmas was a dark day on the calendar, to be endured instead of celebrated. Growing up, Nick and his brothers had quickly learned to detest the holidays.  Not surprising, given that their father was Jack Frost.

Yes, that Jack Frost.

Nick had vague memories of early childhood Christmases, when his flighty elven mother would take the three boys to visit their Kringle cousins. His mother was one of Mrs. Claus’ sisters, and Nick remembered romping with the Kringle girls along with his brothers, Ethan and Jake. But that had been centuries ago.  Kringles aged differently than mortals, and those warm memories had mostly disappeared, trampled under decades of bitterness and resentment as the three brothers grew up in the drafty halls of Frost Castle. After a monumental fight with their coldhearted, scheming father, Nick’s mother had been banished to another realm, forced to leave her young sons behind. Nick and his brothers had been too little to really understand it, but since that moment, their lives had been shaped by Jack Frost’s chilly ideology, and they’d grown up cold, calculating, and emotionally stunted.

Jack Frost’s plan was clear – he was grooming his sons to join the family business, working to destroy Christmas and all that it stood for. On paper, it all sounded looked good, clearly villainous and coldhearted. Unfortunately for Jack, his sons had taken after their parents in more ways than one.

Ethan, the eldest, was the most likely candidate to step into their father’s chilly shoes.  Calculating, brilliant, and emotionless, Ethan had a head for business and didn’t get discouraged by the trifling little setbacks along the path toward world domination. However, in an ironic twist that infuriated the Master Icicle-Maker, Ethan had also inherited a conscience, a sense of fair play, and that unwillingness to break the rules, the need to win fair and square and not stab an opponent in the back was a serious blow to Frost’s grand scheme.

Jake was the youngest, and Ethan’s polar opposite. Fun-loving, mischief-making, and flighty as a snowflake, he had his father’s ability to live in the moment, but couldn’t be trusted with money, power, or any degree of serious magic. He’d been sowing his wild oats for the last hundred years ago, and the few times Nick had been forced to seek him out, he was usually in the company of a harem of voluptuous snow nymphs or living it up in the seedier magical clubs of the world’s major cities.

This left Nick as his father’s last chance at grooming an heir to take over his chilly empire. Too bad Nick wanted nothing to do with it. He gripped the railing, white-knuckled, watching a group of drunken workers attempt a round of “Deck the Halls,” and remembering the last tumultuous argument he’d had with his father. He didn’t want to ruin Christmas, Nick explained, he didn’t want to spread sadness and squash mirth, he just wanted to be left alone. Nick had no interest in squeezing the life out of the holiday or bringing misery to millions – he just didn’t care one way or the other. His entire adult life, he’d been looking for a way to step out from his father’s shadow, to live an ordinary, unimportant life of quiet, chilly, peaceful solitude. But no. He’d been dragged into scheme after scheme for centuries, always the sidekick, always being forced to inflict distress on perfectly well-meaning humans and elves.

It was such a waste of time.

Nick thought longingly of following in his brother’s footsteps – he should have taken off with Jake when he had the chance. Right now he could be balls deep in more-than-willing snow nymph pussy in the heart of Siberia, without a care in the world. Instead, he’d been too chicken shit to go through with it. When the situation finally came to a head, Nick blew up, and the walls of Frost Castle had trembled with Jack Frost’s fury and dark magic. Recklessly, Nick had declared himself independent – he didn’t need his family, his birthright, or his magic. And so Jack Frost had cast him out.

No money.

No brothers.

No magic.

He’d been dropped in an alley in New York with just the clothes on his back.

Two weeks of living homeless and magic-less was enough to convince Nick that he may have made a serious mistake. Cold, hungry, struggling to deal with the loss of his magic, and generally miserable, he’d finally uncovered one of the hidden North Pole portals around the city. There were wards on it, of course, to protect against dark magic. Luckily, Nick was no longer infused with dark magic, and he’d always been handy at mixing things. A half-hour of heavy petting with a cute witch at a local magical dive bar got him the ingredients for an unlocking potion that he mixed in a discarded bucket in a back alley, fingers frozen to the bone. The wards dissolved like melted butter, and the next morning Nick was stumbling through the portal, feeling something tight cracking in his frozen chest as the cheery lights of North Pole village came into view.

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 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?

EXCERPT:

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.”

There’s a new Kringle book coming!!!

If you’ve read the rest of the series, you’ll know that elves’ relationship with sugar is deep and nurturing, but in our heroine’s case, it’s about to get a little out of hand…LOL…I am scrambling to have MORE THAN A NIGHT out this coming weekend, and have Nick’s story done for relaxing after a long day of shopping on Black Friday.  Here’s a little glimpse!

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 have taken pity on him, letting him run Santa’s big city candy factory and store for the season.  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, and then he can put her out of his mind forever.

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?

EXCERPT:

“WOULD YOU LIKE A taste?”

Nick poured the sticky mess onto the marble slab and started kneading it, adding powdered sugar as the caramel goo began to hold its shape.

“I don’t…sample,” said Phoebe coldly, her tone as frigid as the icy fields of home.

“Never?”

“No.”

She probably thought he was a total Neanderthal.

“Suit yourself.”

Shrugging, Nick reached for the sink to wash his caramel-coated hands, absently popping his finger in his mouth to suck the gooey goodness off his thumb, but a muffled squeak had him looking up.

He froze.

Phoebe’s eyes were wide and bright, flitting between his fingers and his mouth, her skin flushed, and she was doing a rotten job controlling her breathing as an excited little pant escaped her lips.  Nick didn’t know if it was him or the sugar, but the sweet and perky half-elf was nearly bubbling over with repressed arousal.  She looked ready to explode at the lightest brush of skin against skin.  Nick’s inner devil grinned.  Forgetting the sink, he moved around the counter.

“What are you doing?”

“Sure you don’t want a little bite?” he asked, holding up his hand, moving carefully, like a lion stalking its prey.

Phoebe stepped back until the doors prevented her from retreating further, her clipboard clutched in a death grip in front of her as though to ward him off.  Bells jangled above as she pressed herself flat.

“It’s good,” he murmured, “Warm, buttery, rich.  Perfect for drizzling all over your body so that I can lap it off, one delicious inch at a time.”

She moaned.  His cock tightened painfully.

Nick wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but something about Phoebe flooded his mind with sweet and naughty fantasies he was suddenly dying to make reality.  He was beginning to think he might actually lose his mind if he didn’t get his mouth on her within the next thirty seconds.  He’d never had a reaction to a woman like this, but didn’t have the brain cells to examine it, because she shocked him, grabbing his wrist in a firm grip and bringing his fingers to her mouth.

Oh God.

She was still holding back, breathing in the scent of caramel, watching it drip slowly down his hand, practically shaking.  Nick swiped her lower lip with one finger, spreading sticky sugar.

Soft.

“Open your mouth, Phoebe.”

Her tongue darted out to eagerly lick it away, and the sound she made was so hot, he shuddered in reaction, wrapping his free arm around her waist to pull her tight against him, his cock hard enough to pound nails, pressed into the softness of her belly.  Nick couldn’t even be insulted that she didn’t seem to notice, because that gorgeous mouth was on him now, savoring the caramel on his skin, slowly sucking his fingers inside, one at a time, and rooting for every little trace of sugar.  Her eyelids fluttered down as pleasure suffused her face.  It didn’t look like she was planning to release him anytime soon.

Nick absorbed each lick and hot little suck with greed.  He wanted her mouth on him, everywhere.  He wanted to feel her exploring his chest, his abs, with the same hunger.  He wanted to watch her take his cock down her throat, stretching her lips with each sumptuous stroke.

Nick groaned.

SWEET, SHE THOUGHT, SO sweet.

She lapped up the caramel, hungry for all of it, feeling the magic of sugar zing through her system.  And the taste of him was delicious – salty and hot and addictive.

There’s a reason I shouldn’t be doing this.

The frosted glass door was cold against her back, but her front sizzled from the press of his body, the hard bulge of his cock cuddling against her belly, her aching nipples pressed into his chest.  His fingers had found bare skin, tunneling under her sweater to stroke her waist.  It felt so good, and Phoebe shifted restlessly as he teased, tracing the waistband of her jeans before sliding up to cup her breast with a warm hand, nudging the bra aside to stroke her nipple with sure, toe-curling friction as it tightened under his touch.

The zap of pleasure that raced to her clit was enough to shock her out of her dreamy state, but she only had a moment to raise startled eyes to note the blue-green fire in his gaze before Nick’s mouth found hers.  If the sensation of tasting his skin had been delicious and sweet and naughty, the feel of his mouth was wicked delight personified.  She dropped his wrist and wrapped her arms around his neck while he took her mouth with a skill that turned her knees to jelly.  Her pussy was hot and swollen, her panties soaked as his fingers plucked her nipple while his tongue fucked her mouth.  Her knee slid up his thigh as she raised herself on tiptoe for a better alignment.

Just one more moment…