Not So Tiny Tim

By Robin L. Rotham

Blinded to the Present...Avoiding the Future...Running from the Past

The Smutketeers Present: A Kinky Christmas Carol!

The Knight Family is a wealthy, powerful Chicago clan that knows everything there is to know about making money—but they have plenty to learn about love. In this three series novella—Eden Bradley's Getting Scrooged, Robin L Rotham's Not So Tiny Tim and R.G. Alexander's Marley in Chains—you’ll meet Holly Knight, her nephew Tim, and her cousin Marley Knight-Williams as they face their ghosts, fulfill their fantasies and finally discover the magic of Christmas.

Avoiding the future...

Video game mogul, philanthropist and heir to the Knight empire, Tim Crichton has three F-zones—the friend zone, the family zone, and the, er... fun-buddy zone. No crossover is allowed because it might create a fourth—the forever zone—and Tim knows forever just isn’t in the cards for him.

Miranda Girard has always known she and Tim were meant to be together, but when she got tired of waiting and made a move, he rejected her. Now it’s time for their Christmas reunion dinner and she’s damn well going to put on a happy face and attend—after she stops at the bar for a little liquid courage.

Peter Vaughn can’t wait for his new house to be finished so he can move out of Tim’s apartment—living with a man he wants and can’t have gets old quick. But work on the house has ground to a halt and he’s stuck there until after the new year.

It all seems hopeless until a jolly old doorman nudges Peter and Miranda together, and a little Christmas magic quickly escalates to a scorching holiday encounter that will either rescue Tim from a lonely future...or cost him the two most important people in his life.

Reader Advisory: Contains 30% more cheese and 20% less kink than your usual Robin L. Rotham fare. (It’s Christmas, people!) Also contains ménage, m/m, mild BDSM elements, four ice-skates, three lovebirds, two black towers, and a doorman with a plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin L. Rotham
• Release date: Dec 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301116638

Robin L. Rotham

When I complained of being bored the summer before 7th grade, my mother (who worked at a boookstore at the time) handed me a stripped copy of Victoria Holt's The Shivering Sands--and I was hooked. I became a voracious reader and an aspiring author, bringing home stacks of books from the library every single week. The next year, I did a school report on Ms. Holt and wrote to her asking for information. In reply, she sent me an autographed photo and a lovely two-page hand-written letter in which she encouraged me to follow my writing dreams. Sadly, both the photo and the letter were lost over many moves, but my writing dreams remained. At 14, I tried to write my first two romances. The first was about a federal agent masquerading as a bank robber, and a smart-mouthed customer who drove a custom baby blue Trans Am named Shark. The "robber" stole Shark as his getaway vehicle and the heroine, Nicki, dove in beside him. That was as far as I got--I could never see beyond their flying down the highway bickering as they were chased by bad guys. The second was a hot mess of an erotic Gothic paranormal involving an eighteen-year-old governess and the sixteen-year-old eldest son of the house, who made quite inappropriate advances toward her via astral projection while she slept. I wrote 100 pages front and back--IN PENCIL--before I hit that I HATE point in the story and shoved it under my bed. When I retrieved it two years later, the lead was so smeared I couldn't read it. The End. After that, I set my dream aside to address the more practical matters in life--matters like eating and putting a roof over my head. It took finding my own hero to reignite my passion for romance writing. More than 25 years after my last attempt, I bought a used laptop on eBay and wrote my first erotic romance. Mr Robin and I have been married for twenty-plus years; we live on a farm and have three wonderful offspring. I love to hear from readers, so don't be timid about dropping by my website or blog to say hi!

Book preview

Not So Tiny Tim

by

Robin L. Rotham

Not So Tiny Tim

Copyright 2012 Robin L Rotham

Published by Robin L Rotham

Cover Art by Robin L. Rotham

Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Dedication

For Eden, RG, Anne, and Sher,

without whom this book would never have been finished.

And for Cookie,

for putting up with numerous revisions.

What would I do without you?

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

Bonus Excerpt: Getting Scrooged

Bonus Excerpt: Marley in Chains

Bonus Excerpt: FrankenDom

Chapter One

There were only three things on Peter Vaughn’s mind as he walked up the busy, festively lit sidewalk toward his apartment Friday evening—beer, a Bulls game, and bed. And maybe some Advil for his pounding headache. Between clients who wanted more house than they were willing to pay for and contractors who wanted more money than they were willing to work for, he’d had just about enough of being an architect, at least for this week.

Good evening, Mr. Vaughn, the new doorman said, opening the lobby door. As usual, his red uniform was immaculate, his white beard perfectly trimmed and his eyes twinkling. He was a nice change from the usual doorman, Chapman, who was always rumpled and a bit of a Grinch.

Hey, Frosty, he said. How’s it hangin’?

The doorman followed him in and accompanied him to the elevator. The way you’d expect in this weather, sir. Snugly. But thank you for asking. I’ll admit to being envious of Mr. Chapman’s Hawaiian vacation.

Yeah, me too, Peter said, waiting for him to push the button.

Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn… When he turned, the doorman nodded toward the enclosed mall connecting the ground levels of the Dickens Towers. I believe there’s a young lady in the Tavern who’s in need of your assistance.

Peter frowned. Who is she?

Miss Girard. At Peter’s blank look, he added, Miranda Girard? The two of you are acquainted, unless I’m mistaken.

Peter slumped. Crap, he’d totally forgotten tonight was Tim’s monthly mini-reunion with his high school friends. The guy usually got laid in spectacular style after one of those things, sometimes until three or four in the morning, and because Peter was staying with him gratis until the house was finished, he couldn’t even tell him to take it somewhere else.

Jesus, he was so ready to move out. The only thing he was going to miss about living in Dickens Towers was being able to walk to his downtown Chicago office, and once he was into his new house, the peace and privacy would be more than worth the commute.

Damn contractors. How in the hell could they just drop his project to do another quick job right before Christmas? The house was already months behind schedule, and the rolls of carpet and pad and boxes of tile were just sitting there, waiting to be laid.

It was enough to drive a man to drink, something he fully intended to do as soon as he got upstairs.

You’re sure she asked for me? he asked doubtfully. What would Miranda want with him? She was Tim’s friend, not his.

No, sir, but I’m certain you’re just the man she needs.

Cryptic, Frosty, but you’ve got my attention. Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. You realize I’m already late for beer-thirty.

There’s plenty of beer in the Tavern.

Yeah, for three times the cost of the beer in our fridge. When the guy just smiled at him, Peter sighed again. And you think she needs my assistance.

His smile widened. I have no doubt of it.

Fine. Here. Peter handed him his briefcase and then shrugged out of his coat and handed him that as well. Have this sent up to the apartment and I’ll see what I can do for her.

He wandered down the mall into Dickens Tavern and immediately spotted Miranda sitting at the bar. In red high heels and a sparkly turquoise and white tank dress, striped diagonally like a barber pole, she looked more like a sexy little elf playing hooky from Santa’s workshop than an engineer.

He slid into the vacant seat to her left. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?

Clearly startled, Miranda glanced at him and then smiled wryly. Has that line ever worked for you?

This is the first time I’ve tried it.

And the last, I hope.

Probably. He ordered Sam Adams and nodded at her mostly empty glass, a Cosmo from the look of it. Can I buy you another?

Thanks, but no. I just need one for liquid courage before dinner tonight. Two might push me over the line into maudlin emotion.

By all means, let’s avoid maudlin emotion, he said, only half joking.

She smiled again. By all means.

When the bartender slid the cold beer into his hand, he took a few long pulls, debating whether or not to open the can of worms good old Frosty had unwittingly plunked down in front of him. No doubt Miranda was sitting here fortifying herself against the sight of Tim with yet another party girl on his arm. It was obvious from the first time he met her that she was hopelessly in love with Tim.

Hopeless being the operative word. Tim Crichton had earned his reputation as a player, and he liked to play both sides of the field. When he played, he played for fun, not for keeps, and he made no secret of the fact the people in his life fell into one of three well-defined F-zones—friends, family and fuck-buddies. Crossover between friends and fuck-buddies was not allowed because that might lead to a fourth F-zone—the forever zone—and Tim didn’t do forever.

Miranda clearly fell into the friend zone, so why hadn’t she seen the handwriting on the wall and moved on? She obviously wasn’t his fuck-buddy type. Where Tim preferred women tall and generously proportioned, Miranda was petite and slender, with the kind of subtle curves that appealed to more sophisticated tastes. Where Tim went for the cool blonde look, Miranda was exotic, her bottomless aqua eyes a startling contrast to her warm golden skin and dark hair. She had a wide, generous mouth and lush rose-colored lips that were currently coated with smudged red lipstick. Looking at them made Peter’s pants go a little tight in the crotch. No doubt she could do some pretty amazing things with that mouth.

Clearing his throat, he asked, Why do you need liquid courage?

Miranda sent him a wary glance. You’re probably not the person I should be discussing this with.

Because it’s about Tim?

She sighed. Peter, why are you talking to me? You never have before, and I was kind of under the impression you didn’t like me very much.

That’s not true. Surprised by her candor, he hesitated for a moment and then decided to return the favor. I was just concerned about your infatuation with Tim.

She blushed a charming shade of dusky pink but held his gaze. I changed my mind. I’ll have another Cosmo, please.

Peter gestured at the bartender.

He told you what I did last month, didn’t he? she asked.

No, he didn’t. What did you do?

After she’d taken a long sip from her fresh drink, she said without looking at him, I threw myself at him.

It took him a moment to digest that. Wow, that must have taken some guts.

What made you do that after all these years? he asked, snagging a handful of nuts from the bowl on the bar.

She shrugged. Just…everything came together, I guess. He didn’t have a date that night so we wound up sitting with each other, talking and laughing all evening. I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, then an after-dinner drink, and Tim thought I was too toasted to drive. I told him I’d call a cab but he insisted on taking me home. I guess he was right about my having had too much to drink because when he walked me inside, I saw him standing there under my mistletoe with that smile on his face and I just…went for it. I grabbed him around the neck and kissed him.

Peter nodded. What did he do, if you don’t mind my asking?

He kissed me back at first. For a few seconds I thought he was going to swallow me whole. But then he pried my arms from around his neck and leaned his forehead on mine and said, ‘Miranda…’ She lowered her voice to imitate Tim’s sexy rumble. "‘You know I care about you like damn, but this isn’t going to happen between us. I’m sorry if I did something to make you think it could.’"

Ouch. That explained why Tim had been in a shit mood when he got home that night. It would have been hard for him to hurt her like that.

Personally, Peter would have sat her down a long time ago and explained the facts of life for her own good. Tim considered Miranda one of his best friends—he’d known her since their first day of high school, and as transparent as she was, he had to have noticed her feelings for him. And yet he’d let her cling to false hope for years, which was just wrong, in Peter’s opinion. So Tim hated hurting people—that didn’t mean it was okay to act like a chickenshit.

Then again, nobody was perfect. If Tim didn’t have at least a few flaws, someone would canonize him when he wasn’t looking. Tim would hate that.

She nodded. "Exactly, and you’d think that would be have been enough to stop me,