Sleigh Ride (Minnesota Christmas Book 2) (21 page)

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A Private Gentleman

Family Man (with Marie Sexton)

Minnesota Christmas

Let it Snow

Love Lessons

Love Lessons

Fever Pitch

Special Delivery

Special Delivery

Double Blind

Tough Love

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Carry the Ocean

Sometimes you have to play love by ear.

Fever Pitch

© 2014 Heidi Cullinan

Love Lessons, Book 2

Aaron Seavers is a pathetic mess, and he knows it. He lives in terror of incurring his father’s wrath and disappointing his mother, and he can’t stop dithering about where to go to college—with fall term only weeks away.

Ditched by a friend at a miserable summer farewell party, all he can do is get drunk in the laundry room and regret he was ever born. Until a geeky-cute classmate lifts his spirits, leaving him confident of two things: his sexual orientation, and where he’s headed to school.

Giles Mulder can’t wait to get the hell out of Oak Grove, Minnesota, and off to college, where he plans to play his violin and figure out what he wants to be when he grows up. But when Aaron appears on campus, memories of hometown hazing threaten what he’d hoped would be his haven.

As the semester wears on, their attraction crescendos from double-cautious to a rich, swelling chord. But if more than one set of controlling parents have their way, the music of their love could come to a shattering end.

Warning:
Contains showmances, bad parenting, Walter Lucas, and a cappella.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Fever Pitch:

Giles tuned the instrument, then taught Aaron how to bow, when to use his wrist and when to lift his arm. While it wasn’t exactly
necessary
Giles touch Aaron’s arm to help him move it correctly, it certainly didn’t hurt his education.

He didn’t complain, either, when Giles lingered a little longer than the demonstration warranted.

Aaron was, of course, a natural. He winced when his first attempt at bowing elicited a screech, but it wasn’t long before he knew how to produce a crisp, clear sound.

“Good job,” Giles told him. “You’ll do well with fingering too. Kids use tapes when they learn, but with your ear you won’t take long to pick it up.”

“It’s so clear.” Aaron pulled a long, strong A, then an E. “This has to be more Henrietta than me.”

“She’s not a cheap date, no. She was my birthday, Christmas, and—” He stopped himself from saying
get-out-of-the-hospital-for-the-second-time present.
“She was expensive, so she has great sound. But the player still has to bring it, or she won’t sing.”

Aaron played a few more notes, riding the four strings up and down. “I love orchestras. Strings make me shiver.” He stole a shy glance at Giles. “When you play the double bass for Salvo, I get chills every time.”

Never, ever would Giles have guessed he could get so hard talking violin. “I’m a lot better on Henrietta.”

Aaron’s cheeks flushed with color. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

Sweet baby Jesus.
Giles wanted to put Henrietta on the chair and push Aaron to the floor. “I’ll play for you right now. But let’s give you a chance to shine first. How about I teach you a song?”

From Aaron’s reaction, Giles would have thought he’d offered to give him a million dollars. “Can I learn ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”

“Too tricky for your first attempt. I was thinking more ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. It only uses two strings, and it has the benefit of teaching you a lot of fingering at the same time.”

This lesson involved more touching as Giles helped Aaron apply his fingers to the board, showing him the right pressure and position. As he’d anticipated, Aaron had no trouble keeping his notes on pitch, and Giles only had to explain the very basics before Aaron taught himself the song. When he finished, he laughed and flourished his bow, flush with pride.

Giles clapped and grinned. “Well done, maestro.”

“Thanks. That was fun.” Aaron passed Henrietta and the bow over. “Let’s hear the real deal now, though.”

Giles tucked Henrietta to his shoulder, his fingers sliding easily into position on the bow. “What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.” Aaron settled into his chair. “Pop, classical—anything. Though—if you know anything with the plinky-plinky sound?” He mimed plunking strings on an imaginary violin.

“Pizzicato? Sure.” He plucked a few arpeggios, stomach flipping at the way it made Aaron smile. “Now the question is, do you want something classical and official, or do you want me to make you giggle when I play ‘TiK ToK’ pizzicato?”

Aaron burst out laughing. “Shut
up
. Seriously?”

Giles grinned. “I’ll consider that a request for Ke$ha.”

He launched into the song, and Aaron laughed so hard he fell sideways. But when Giles started to lower his violin, Aaron waved him on as he wiped his eyes and rose, heading to the piano. “Keep going. I have an idea.”

Giles started the song over, and goddamn if Aaron didn’t pound out harmony on the piano like the music was in front of him. Not wanting to appear a slouch, Giles stepped up his game, adding some flourishes whenever he could. Aaron kept playing, never missing so much as a note.

“Now switch,” Giles called out as they cleared the bridge. “You pizz on the piano, and I’ll bow the harmony.”

Aaron frowned, but it was a stare of concentration. “There’s no such thing on the piano. How do I—?” Then he grinned. “Got it.
Go
.”

Giles tried to keep his brain three steps ahead of his fingers, working out the harmonics before he played them, wanting both accuracy and elegance, because of course Aaron brought both. Aaron’s “pizzicato” was staccato beats in the upper register, sometimes with harmony added, sometimes not. Sweating, Giles did his best to keep up, a task difficult partly because of the notes, partly because it took everything in him not to break out in giggles. Though as soon as they finished the song with a ridiculous flourish, they both bust out laughing.

“That was
awesome
.” Aaron wiped at his eyes. “Oh, shit—I want to do more.”

“What about ‘100 Years’? It gives good pizz. Do you know it?”

Aaron stared at him, his look unreadable.

Giles faltered. Was he pissed? Annoyed? “I— Sorry—”

He stopped as Aaron grinned and rolled his eyes before his fingers moved over the opening bars with the precision of someone who’d long ago memorized the song.

Oh.
The look had been incredulity, Aaron insulted at the idea he
didn’t
know the song.

Grinning, Giles joined in, playing pizzicato through the first verse, but as Aaron filled out his harmony, Giles started bowing.

When they hit the chorus, Aaron began to sing.

Giles didn’t know why Aaron’s vocals hit him so hard—it
wasn’t
because he crushed on him, though that didn’t help anything. It wasn’t so much that Aaron’s voice was some kind of perfect harmonic, though it was. A million people had great voices, though.

Not many opened a vein quite like Aaron.

Giles stopped worrying about looking good and focused on the spaces the piano couldn’t cover, never overpowering Aaron’s voice but rather lifting him up, easing the spaces between the notes so when he sang, he soared even higher. Giles forgot about making mistakes, forgot about everything in the world that wasn’t playing with Aaron.

When the song ended, they held still, gazes locked, hands frozen on their instruments.

Aaron broke the silence, his voice soft and heavy. “‘With or Without You’?”

Giles lifted his bow and glided gently into the lead.

The magic of the moment let them play like gods. Giles rose through the song as Aaron put in a gentle baseline, just enough color to finish things off. Aaron took up the vocal melody, soft and sweet, his pretty tenor resting oh so tenderly on each note. He turned the song into a lullaby, ignoring all bait to belt, which only made the vocals more powerful. It was so beautiful Giles had to close his eyes.

I love him.
His heart swelled and spilled over as they rounded into the final chorus.
I’m so in love with him I can’t even ask him out. I want to lie at his feet, want to smooth out all the wrinkles in his life and make everything okay.

I can’t ever tell him, because if I’m wrong, if somehow he doesn’t want me, my life would be over. I’d rather have this than nothing.

Someone as wonderful as him can’t want someone as awkward as me. There’s just no way. There’s no fucking way that’s real, no matter how much I want it to be.

Aaron closed off the song with a chord—with a soft pull on Giles’s bow, it was done.

The music hung in the air between them.

Giles lowered his instrument. At the piano Aaron let his fingers fall from the keys.

They stared at each other, breathing hard but silent, neither wanting to break the spell.

He’s waiting for you to ask him out.

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

The door to the rehearsal hall opened. Giles and Aaron startled, turning away from each other as if they’d been caught kissing, not staring. It was one of the other quartets coming in to practice, and the members greeted them both warmly, apologizing if they were interrupting.

“No problem,” Aaron told them. But he cast one last longing glance at Giles.

I can’t.
Except there was nothing,
nothing
in the world Giles would rather do.

Sometimes the little head really does know best.

How to Train Your Dom in Five Easy Steps

© 2014 Josephine Myles

Jeff White’s needs are simple. All he wants is a submissive to help him explore the dominant side that his ex-girlfriend couldn’t handle. Problem is, inexperience in both dating and domming has resulted in a string of rejections.

What he needs is an experienced sub willing to show him the ins and outs of controlling a scene. Unfortunately, the only one willing to take him on is male, and Jeff is straight. One hundred percent, never-gonna-happen straight.

Easygoing painslut Eddie Powell doesn’t care that Jeff is younger, working class, and shorter. Eddie likes a bit of rough, and Jeff fits the bill perfectly. The trick will be convincing him to follow Eddie’s five-step training programme—which would be easy if Eddie wasn’t starting to have feelings for the rough-around-the-edges landscaper.

Once Jeff lays his hands on Eddie, things definitely get
out
of hand. But it’ll take more than hot, sweaty, kinky sex to persuade him to come out of the closet—especially to himself.

Warning: Contains a happy sub, a confused Dom, a high ratio of sex to plot, misuse of root ginger, and a suitcase of kink. Written in Jo’s usual exceedingly “English” English.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
How to Train Your Dom in Five Easy Steps:

It was only when he was showering after his day of sinking a pond—hard, messy work at any time of year—that Jeff realised he was going out to dinner with a man. A gay man. Shit.

Was this a date?

No, it couldn’t be. A date implied both parties were expecting sex, didn’t it? And Jeff certainly wasn’t. He stood in front of his wardrobe, wondering what would be the most off-puttingly heterosexual outfit he could wear.

A football shirt. Perfect. That definitely wasn’t date wear. Jeff teamed up his favourite Chelsea shirt with his oldest, tattiest jeans and a pair of scuffed trainers. He definitely didn’t look like he’d made an effort.

But even he couldn’t explain just why he ran back to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he left.

He pulled up outside the Globetrotter at ten to seven. The evening was mild and still light enough to only need your sidelights on. He scanned the other cars there, wondering which was Eddie’s. Could it be the fancy little yellow Porsche? Or was he more of a Mini Cooper sort of man? Jeff’s battered old work truck stood out like a sore thumb among all the shiny new cars, but it wasn’t like he could afford to run two vehicles.

He got down from the truck and stood there, not wanting to look too keen by getting there early.

A vintage E-type Jaguar pulled in and eased into one of the last parking spaces, its shape marking it out as a different breed to the rest of the cars. Jeff was admiring the dark green paintwork when a voice rang out.

“Jeff, what are you doing loitering around in the dark?” Eddie got out of the Jag, grinning. Of course, it had to be his car, didn’t it?

“Just admiring your wheels,” Jeff said. “Must have set you back a fair bit.”

“Actually, she was a bargain. Bit of a fixer-upper, but I’ve got a friend who’s a mechanic, so she took her on as a project. Mates’ rates.”

“You’re friends with a mechanic?” You could have knocked Jeff down with a feather. Men like Eddie weren’t friends with mechanics. They hung out with other trendy city types. You only had to look at Eddie’s outfit to see that. Okay, so he was in jeans and a T-shirt too, but the royal blue T-shirt was a close fit and bore the logo of something or other—a computer game perhaps?—and the jeans had all kinds of weird shit going on that marked them out as designer. Even his neon-orange trainers were squeaky clean.

Men like Eddie didn’t hang around with grease monkeys.

“Yeah, she’s my cousin’s ex. You needn’t look so surprised. Never know when it’s going to be handy to have friends in different places, do you? I’ve been collecting them from all walks of life. It’s a bit of a hobby of mine. And now I’ve added a gardener to my collection. All I need now is a rat-catcher, and I’ll have completed the set.”

Jeff knew he was being teased, but he didn’t really mind when Eddie did it with such an open smile. Still. “I’m not really a gardener,” he said. “Hard landscaping is a whole different thing to horticulture, and I don’t have the qualifications for that.”

“But you’d like them?”

“Yeah. I love flowers.” It wasn’t something Jeff had ever admitted before, but this man had no connection to the rest of Jeff’s life. It wasn’t like word would get back to Jeff’s family, was it? Well, unless Eddie told Maddy, and she told Niall, and Niall ran into Tony in the village… Shit, that was a connection, wasn’t it? “Don’t tell anyone that, though,” he ordered.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.” Eddie’s eyes crinkled at the edges, and Jeff had to wonder how old he was. He dressed and talked young enough, but Jeff’s skin hadn’t started creasing up like that yet. Shit, was Eddie older than him?

“Come on,” Eddie said. “I’m dying for a beer.”

He drank beer too? Posh blokes didn’t drink beer, did they? They were meant to like wine and single malt whiskies or something. And Jeff was fairly certain gay men drank cocktails, not pints.

However, it turned out Eddie drank real ale by the pint, which actually shamed Jeff from buying his usual fizzy lager. The pub had six different ales to choose from, and he went for one called Skullcrusher. That was a suitably macho name, wasn’t it? Yeah. And no one was going to think him and Eddie were a couple. Not with Eddie dressed in fairly normal clothes.

Jeff began to relax as they found a corner table and sat down. He ordered steak and chips, and Eddie lived up to expectations and ordered the mussels with the fancy French name. Seafood. Ugh.

“So,” Eddie said after the waiter had taken their order, “what’s all this I hear about you being a switch?”

Jeff choked on his mouthful of beer.

Eddie watched Jeff struggle to clear his throat. He wasn’t blushing, but he was definitely floundering.

“Where did you hear that? It’s a lie.”

“Oh, I have my sources. Like I said, friends all over. Never know when they’re going to come in handy.”

Jeff was looking really worried now, playing with the foam on the top of his beer with one fingertip as an excuse not to have to look at Eddie. Eddie took pity on him. “Don’t worry, it was only Maddy. She said some Domme wants to take you on as her sub.”

“She’s nuts. Sandi, I mean, not Maddy. There’s no way I’d ever let anyone hurt me or order me around.”

“Why not?”
Please don’t let it be because you think subs are weak.
Eddie refused to be thought of in that way.

“Just because.” Jeff glowered into his pint. “I don’t like pain, and I don’t like being told what to do.”

“What happens when you feel pain?”

“What do you think? It bloody well hurts!”

“And that’s unpleasant?”

“Of course. Isn’t it for you?”

Oh, and there it was. A question from Jeff about how Eddie experienced things. Marvellous. They were getting somewhere at last. Eddie considered carefully before answering. “Some kinds of pain are just as bad for me as they are for you. I’m a complete wuss when it comes to a headache or toothache or any pains from the inside of my body. You know. Stomach cramps or torn ligaments or what have you. But for some reason, I’ve never been all that bothered by pain coming from the outside.”

“So you just don’t feel pain all that much, then?”

“I feel it the same as anyone else, I think. I reckon I just process it differently. It feels sparkly or warm or just plain interesting. Used to always be getting the other kids to give me Chinese burns because they felt so tingly afterwards. And grazed knees were really intense, but not altogether bad. Used to love pressing on scabs just to feel that crackly sort of pain. It gave me a kind of high. The endorphins, I suppose.” Eddie realised Jeff was now staring at him like he was some kind of bizarre museum exhibit.