Holiday Boyfriend
December 5, 2025 by Tracy Reed in category WritingIt’s the holiday season and if you’re like me, you’re consumed with decorations, shopping and tying up ends. So I’m going to make this a brief post.
Two years ago, I published my first holiday novella. It’s a warm story about a mature couple discovering love unexpectedly. Here’s a little taste of holiday love.
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Holiday Boyfriend
VALERIE
I am still in awe at how a chance encounter in the elevator introduced me to a man who is everything I longed for and the opposite of what I was mourning. Looking back on my relationship with Stephen I see I didn’t pay attention to the signs. What’s that saying, ‘when people show you who they are, believe them.’ Stephen said he wasn’t ready for marriage, and I ignored him. The reality is, he was but not with me.
“I think we did a good job,” Christian said looking at the Christmas tree.
“I agree.” I sipped my wine. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too. What do you want to eat?”
“Hmmm…I don’t know. If you had asked me that before I met you, I would have probably said Thai or Greek.”
“Good options.”
“Yes, but you have exposed my taste buds and now I look at food differently.”
“Really.” He smiled and his eyes seemed to sparkle.
“So, I should probably ask, what do you have a taste for?”
He pulled me close. “You know that’s a loaded question.” He teased.
I playfully slapped his thigh and it felt like knocking wood. Christian was solid. “You know what I mean.”
“I know what you said.” His hands slid down and patted my behind.
I looked at him. “Keep it up and you’ll be getting coal in your stocking.”
“You are beautiful. I could feast on you all evening.” He crushed his mouth against mine and kissed me hard. I quickly gave in to the kiss and climbed onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth and kissed me harder.
I was lost in the taste and feel of him. He eased his hands down, cupped my behind and pulled me closer. I felt him getting aroused as he kissed me harder.
Who was this woman making out like a teenager with a man she barely knew?
I broke the kiss, pulled back breathing hard. I opened my eyes and saw something I never saw in all the years I was with Stephen…passion and a future. How could that even be possible? I’ve only known Christian a short time. How could I have developed such strong feelings for him so quickly?
“I…I…” I tried to stand up, but he wouldn’t let go of me.
“What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t right.”
“We haven’t done anything, although I’m open.” He smiled.
“You’re shameless.” I smiled.
“I’m honest.” He gently kissed me. “I know we aren’t there, but I’m putting everything out there. Valerie, you’ve got me thinking and…”
“Is that a bad thing?” I teased.
“It could be.”
“I need food.”
“I need you in my life.”
“You’ve got me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I told you I don’t want to do the distance thing.”
“What if things were different? What if I were here?”
“Don’t make changes based on a fling.”
“I told you, I know what I want and this…”
I crushed my mouth against his. I didn’t want to think about what he was suggesting…not right now.
____________
I should have known it was just a matter of time before Keisha found out about my secret holiday boyfriend. That’s what I called Christian. He laughed and said he was wearing me down.
Knock…Knock…Knock…
“Come in.” I looked up and saw my best friend of more than twenty years enter. “What’s going on?”
She walked forward and sat down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Gary said he didn’t know you were down with the swirl.”
“Excuse me.”
She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “He said he didn’t know you were down with the swirl.”
“First of all, that doesn’t sound like Gary, but more like you. Second, what are you talking about?”
“Gary said he saw a woman who looked a lot like you a few days ago being very affectionate with a…how did he put it…a hot Santa.”
I smiled. “Gary is starting to sound a lot like you.”
“I got your shade.” She smiled. “Anyway, what’s going on? Was that your secret admirer?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, because when he saw everything…”
“What do you mean saw everything?”
“Last weekend he picked me up at the office and…”
“Interesting choice of words.”
I cringed. I knew what she was intimating. “What?”
“Is it true you picked him up in the elevator? And that you’ve spent almost every night the past two weeks together?”
“Seems Gary has been talking to Ethan.”
“No, it was Ivan.”
“Technically, it was a mutual pick up and yes, we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
She scrolled through her contacts and pressed a number. “Ivan, hold all of Valerie’s calls…I’ll let you know…bye.”
“Did you just give my assistant…”
“That’s not important.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Name…marital status…kids…family… home base…career…”
“Christian Nichols…divorced…it ended because she cheated with his friend…no children…he’s an architect…he travels a lot for work which his ex didn’t like…he grew up in the city, but now he’s based in Portland.”
“Maine or Oregon?”
“Oregon. He’s in town to spend the holidays with his family.”
She looked at me like she was searching me for fingerprints or something. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I rubbed my forehead and exhaled. “He’s very charming and…the things he says.”
“What sort of things?”
“He said he knows what he wants, and what he wants includes me.”
She leaned forward and moved to the edge of the chair. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“He…the things he says are so…I don’t know if he’s being truthful or just playing with me.”
“What things?”
“I told him about Stephen and he said the breakup wasn’t my fault. That Stephen never intended or wanted anything permanent with me.” I dabbed at the corner of my eye. “Christian said I deserve more, and he wants to give it to me.”
“Whoa…uhm…what?”
“I told him I didn’t want to do the distance thing.”
“Millions of couples do the distance thing.”
“I know, but you were right.”
“About…”
“Romance…love. I thought I was too old for love, but I was wrong.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied with a smirk.
I tapped my fingers on the desk. “Spending time with Christian has woken me up. Call me selfish, but I want more from my man.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I don’t want him to be ashamed to be affectionate in public. Hold my hand, put his arm around me, hold me close or kiss me. Nothing obscene, but affectionate. If I’m feeling a little frisky, I want to roll over to his office or place and…”
“Based on what Gary said, I take it Christian has no problem being affectionate in private or public.”
“No. Our first kiss happened in the elevator.”
Her eyes got wide. “Excuse me. What did you say?”
“When he picked me up we were talking, and then he just crushed his mouth against mine. Girl, the way he kissed me…I have never been kissed like that. I felt it down to my toes…and his hands…uhmmm…the way he holds me is…it’s passionate…he’s…it’s like I’ve woken up and…I have to tell you, he is very difficult to resist.”
“Wow.”
“He’s very determined, but he scares me.”
“How?”
“I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, and he’s talking like we’ve been together much longer. Girl, he’s talking about the future, completely ignoring what I said about not wanting to do the distance thing. Even if I was good with the distance thing, it’s too soon to talk about the future.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how long were you with Stephen before he mentioned the future?”
“A couple of years, and I was the one who brought up the subject.”
“But after two weeks…”
“Our second date.”
Her mouth was as wide as her eyes. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Within the first seventy-two hours.”
“That right there is big baller talk.”
“What if it’s just talk?”
“I don’t know him, but based on what you’ve told me, I don’t think it is. Sounds like he’s serious.”
“He came over and helped me decorate my tree and apartment.” I smiled.
“I’m sorry, did you say he helped you with your tree?”
“Yes, after I helped him with some Christmas shopping, he came over and helped with my tree. Afterward, we ordered some food and made-out like teenagers. Girl, he’s very,” I sucked on the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, baby boy is uhm…”
“Valerie…Valerie…”
“I’m sorry. What was I saying?”
“You were reliving your youth on the sofa with Santa Hottie.”
“You went Christmas shopping…as a couple?”
I sat back with my arms folded across my chest. “Yep.”
“How old is he? Gary thinks he’s an old man trying to recapture his youth.”
“Tell Gary, he has nothing to worry about. He and I are in the same age neighborhood. He’s just prematurely grey.”
“Seems I’m going to have to find you another Christmas gift.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you I was getting you a man for Christmas.”
“You weren’t serious.”
“Yes, I was. I have an appointment with a matchmaker.”
“What…Keisha…cancel it.”
“Maybe I’ll keep it and use it for Ivan. I’m not a fan of that trick he’s been seeing.”
I shook my head, laughing. “You are too funny.”
“Back to you. I know it’s scary being with someone who knows what they want.”
“You’re right about that.”
“So, what about your secret admirer?”
“I still think it’s a vendor. When they reveal themselves, book an appointment.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What if it turns out to be an admirer?”
“Trust me, this isn’t the romantic fairytale you and everyone is hoping for.”
Jina Bacarr Featured Author
December 1, 2025 by Jina Bacarr in category Apples & Oranges by Marianne H. Donley, Featured Author, Featured Author of the Month tagged as Boldwood Books, Featured Author of the Month, historical romance, Jina Bacarr, New relaase, The Stolen Children of War
About Jina Bacarr
I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.
I grew up listening to their wild, outlandish tales and it was those early years of storytelling that led to my love of history and traveling.
I enjoy writing to classical music with a hot cup of java by my side. I adore dark chocolate truffles, vintage anything, the smell of bread baking and rainy days in museums. I’ve always loved walking through history—from Pompeii to Verdun to Old Paris. The voices of the past speak to me through carriages with cracked leather seats, stiff ivory-colored crinolines, and worn satin slippers. I’ve always wondered what it was like to walk in those slippers when they were new.
You can follow Jina on social media:
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Jina also has a column here on the 11th of every month: Jina’s Book Chat.
The Stolen Children of War is emotional historical novel from Jina Bacarr, bestselling author of The Orphans of Berlin—available now.
It is 1943 in Nazi-occupied Paris, and nobody is safe. Nobody, except perhaps one small group of people, who’ve always existed outside the law…
At Le Cirque Casini, the trapeze artists still fly. The strong men still perform amazing feats. The sad-faced clowns still make people laugh, even in a city with a broken heart. The Nazis do not trouble them, as long as they keep the people happy and entertained.
But what the Germans don’t know is that there are circus performers with secrets of their own. And when Lia – a performer known for her bravery on the trapeze – finds herself with nowhere else to go but back to the circus she’d left 18 years ago – she does so with two small orphaned Jewish children in tow, who she’s sworn to protect.
As the circus’s numbers swell with people desperate to hide, and threats come not only from the Nazis but from one who seeks to kill someone amongst them, Lia and the other circus-performers know they must do everything in their power to protect the vulnerable.
But who better—than those who would risk their lives every day for entertainment—to save the lives of others?
A gripping, powerful and captivating novel of World War Two, perfect for fans of Kristen Hannah, Fiona Valpy and Dinah Jefferies.
A Few of Jina’s Other Books
Nary a Clue
November 30, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic tagged as short fiction, Thanksgiving, writing
Thanksgiving was three days ago, and I’m still reeling at what I witnessed. My sister hosted, as she has for the last twenty years. That was the only thing predictable about the holiday, though. I was there, of course. She assigns me a dessert every year, and as the dutiful sibling, I oblige, although it’s always store bought. Me, bake a pie? For the sixteen others in attendance, it was more or less potluck. By that I mean both the dishes shared and the personalities that came with them.
Will, my brother-in-law, made a mistake by suggesting we try a team effort at cooking. Sister Steph wasn’t buying it. “Out,” she said, when the horde attempted to breach the kitchen walls. Instead, she selected four of us (yes, me, always) to run the prep, allowing Will in only to check on the turkey. The rest dispersed to the family room for football or the basement for games.
That’s when the screaming started. I was the first to react, given that the only thing I was busy with just then was peeling potatoes. The scream pierced the holiday music that Alexa was playing in the kitchen, and I dropped the peeler and sprinted for the door.
There was confusion among the football crowd, most seeming reluctant to abandon the game underway to locate the screamer. I passed them by and pulled open the basement door.
“Auntie Rhea, you’ve got to help.” That was my nephew Shawn, eyes wide as dinner plates. Behind him on the stairs crowded another nephew and a second cousin.
Expecting to mediate a fight over who was winning at a board game, I had to blink several times to take in the scene at the bottom of the stairs: Instead of just a small knot of preteens, the room now included several adults, none of whom I’d seen before.
I walked up to the nearest person, a middle-aged man dressed in clothing straight out of a Victorian era film. “Who are you?” I couldn’t let the children know how alarmed I was. “What are you doing here?”
The man had the look of a vulture—his six-foot-plus stature to my smidge-over-five-feet height. “We have a crime to solve, madam.” His brow furrowed. “We suspect that one of these scamps is the culprit.”
The narrow basement had somehow expanded to include several new doorways, a brick fireplace in which flames crackled, and picture windows that overlooked … a broad, wooded valley. On a suburban street in Doylestown?
“What crime would that be?” I kept up my no-nonsense demeanor even as I struggled to understand what was going on.
He pulled out a small notebook and flipped several pages. “A murder.”
Quickly I counted the youngsters in the room: eight. That seemed correct. “One of the children is dead?” I said, my legs suddenly wobbly.
The man grimaced. “Hardly. It’s someone related to the Colonel. Mustard’s cousin.”
Mustard? The other adults in the now-sumptuous room also wore period clothing, one of them in a khaki military uniform complete with a few medals pinned to his chest.
“Are we talking about the game Clue?”
Shawn tugged at the sleeve of my cardigan. “Auntie?” His lower lip trembled. “We were playing, and Amanda sprinkled what she said was stardust over the board.” He pointed at the adults. “And then they all appeared.”
Miss Scarlett, Mr. Green, Mrs. Peacock, and Chef White nodded curtly at me. Each carried a weapon in their hands.
“As you can see, we are in a dreadful predicament,” the tall man with the small notebook said. He had to be Professor Plum. “They’ve elected me to find out who—”
He was interrupted by the loud clanging of a bell from upstairs, my sister’s way of calling everyone to the table. I’d missed out on the rest of the dinner prep. Too bad.
I patted the professor’s arm, impressed with the high-quality tweed of his sleeve. “The kids and I aren’t going to be able to help you right now. Thanksgiving meal is waiting.” All eyes were on me. “You all are welcome to join us. Cranberry sauce, stuffing, roast turkey—and pumpkin pie.”
The entire group, kids and interloper adults, followed me up the stairs. We added another leaf to Steph’s table and made do with several folding chairs Will found in his garage workshop. The kids sat at their own table, in the kitchen, where they could argue over who got the drumsticks.
The newcomers introduced themselves as everyone settled in at their places.
Will raised an eyebrow at them. “Aren’t you all from—?”
“Shush,” I said, putting a finger to my lips. “Let’s eat.”
More of Dianna’s Books
Symphony by Neetu
November 25, 2025 by Neetu Malik in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as love, music, Neetu, symphony, waves
Symphony
all I hear is this song…
carried to my ears upon waves
as they ebb and return
a symphony of love
played on instruments
of the heart—
those harps that pull
me into the ocean
teach me
to ride the waves
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
Finding My Voice by Veronica Jorge
November 22, 2025 by Veronica Jorge in category Write From the Heart by Veronica Jorge tagged as muse, voice
I didn’t lose my voice. I just can’t find the heart of my story or the right words to express it.
Like teenagers talking all at once, ideas wave before my eyes vying for attention and making me dizzy. I blink them away because I sense they are distracting me from finding the jewel I seek. I silence them using the voice of my 8th grade teacher. “Empty barrels make the most noise.” They flutter away. It’s silent now.
Silence. What is it they say about silence? Silence is golden. Aha, the treasure I seek. Which reminds me of a line from the 1956 musical film by Rodgers and Hammerstein, The King and I. In a pregnant romantic moment between King Mongkut played by Yul Brynner and Mrs. Anna portrayed by Deborah Kerr, the king says, “When one does not know what to say, it is a time to be silent.”
Sage advice. So I quiet all of my thoughts and emotions. In that silence, I hear a sound of rushing waters. Then music trickles out like a spring, new and refreshing. It is my voice.
My fingers tinkle the keys of my laptop. Like musical notes, I string the letters together to form the right words.
A vision of Disney’s The Little Mermaid appears before me. Ariel has lost her voice and found her prince. I smile for it was in her silence that she touched and won his heart.
See you next time on December 22nd.
Veronica Jorge
