Why I love Christmas by Nyla Rose
Everyone has their reason for loving this winter holiday. For most it’s the endless gorging on turkey, ham, pies and chocolate. Okay, it’s just me, then? For others it’s the chance to catch up with family, exclaim on how the kids have grown and lament on why Uncle Bill hasn’t given up on the darn pipe smoking already!
For me, Christmas is about one thing – time to read. After all the eating, when everyone is in post-prandial euphoria, is the time when I sneak off with a previously and carefully selected novel. This time is really important, because it’s the only guaranteed time when I know I won’t be disturbed by kids wanting drinks or snacks or toys because there’s someone else around to see to their needs.
I truly treasure this time and on most good Christmas afternoons, I can read a short novel in a few hours.
That, my dear friends, is sheer bliss.
So it was in honor of this yearly event, that I wrote my soon to be published book. And by soon to be published I mean, just three days before Christmas, soon!
Yuletide Fire is one of those stories that sprung up from a single, obscure thought. In this case, it was watching an advertisement with a grumpy old granddad who was fed up with being his family’s go-to person to solve all their problems.
My heroine, Maxine, has relied heavily on her granddad since her formative years. And rightly so – he is her only remaining blood relative.
Unfortunately for her, Granddad has decided to teach her a lesson just before Christmas when her world seems to be falling apart. What ensues, I like to think, is a tale of humour, quirky eccentricity and a heavy of dose of red, hot loving. I hope you enjoy meeting Gabe, Maxine’s hero, when he rides to her rescue.
I attach a little excerpt of Yuletide Fire for your delectation.
Excerpt – Yuletide Fire by Nyla Rose
Gabe paid and dismissed the . Grasping Maxine’s hand, he ushered her toward his apartment building.
Absently, he noted the heavier snowfall and wished he’d rented a cottage in the middle of the Scottish highlands instead of a high rise in the centre of
For what he intended to do with Maxine, a snow bound cottage would’ve come in
very handy. Not that she was putting up any fight. London
He looked down and saw her face turned up toward the drifting snow. Nose, as cute as an elf’s, wrinkled in childlike delight. His footsteps slowed and he indulged her pleasure, even though his senses clamored for the instant gratification he’d craved since setting eyes on her again. Dressed in that clingy red number with her silky hair and fancy bangles, she resembled a sexy Christmas gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap. As he watched, a bold snowflake danced low and landed on her eyelash, staying there until she blinked. Then it dropped onto her upper lip. With a sleek pink tongue, she licked it away.
Just like that, the urgency was back. Not that it had gone very far.
His hand tightened around hers. The cold of her gloveless fingers registered, and he rubbed them in his as he guided her through the revolving doors toward the elevator.
As soon as the doors shut on them, he turned to her.
Her eyes widened, and she backed away.
He moved in.
She turned to her mirrored reflection in the elevator. Seeing the flakes on her hair and shoulders, she gave a breathy laugh. “I’m covered in snow.”
He smiled inwardly at the silly comment. He moved closer until he stood behind her. Her perfume whispered over him. “Hmm.”
“I love snow.” One slightly trembling hand touched the melting flakes in her hair.
His gaze found and locked on hers. “I can tell.” His own hands slid up her hips to rest on her waist, keeping her in place. Her deep tremor transmitted to his hands.
She seemed unable to look away. “I—I used to get up at the crack of dawn to build snowmen when I was a child. Drove my parents crazy.”
“Yes?” she responded huskily.
“You’re driving me crazy.”
Her pupils dilated. He drew in a harsh breath. Damn, she was still as responsive as he remembered. More so. And crazy at it sounded, her inane babbling about snow turned him on, her smoky voice strumming excitement along every last nerve in his body.
All through lunch, he’d been unable to tear his eyes away from her. When she’d gotten a small smear of cranberry sauce on her lip, the fierce need to leap over the table and lick it off had damn near unmanned him.
Now she was here, in his arms.
The elevator pinged its arrival. Turning, he dragged her after him.
“Gabe, slow down!” she gasped.
“No,” he growled.
Beneath his fingers, the pulse in her wrist leapt. Yes. Plunging a hand into his pocket, he yanked out the key and jammed it into the lock.
Two seconds later, they were inside.
Happy Holidays and Happy