A Grantham Christmas

By J.A. Hornbuckle

Five short novellas that showcase your favorite characters from Grantham, Colorado in their first Christmas together as a couple. While each can be read as a stand-alone, in order to completely appreciate the stories, its recommended you read the full novels first.

A Bad-Ass Xmas
Jake is determined to make his and Caitlin's first Christmas together something special. For poor Cait, though, recent holidays were to be endured, not enjoyed. Between Jake's high expectations and Cait's reluctance to share her memories, will Jake pull her in or will she drive him away with her lack of holiday spirit? (orig novel: Pole Dance)

Ghosts of Christmas Past
Growing up, the holidays were simply another photo op for Dex's political family and he'd vowed that impressing other people would never be a part of his celebrations. But Leila is showing all the signs of turning their first holiday together into something he can't stand. Then there's her whole reluctance to set a wedding date. Can the professor and her tattoo artist fiancé work through their issues in order to enjoy their first Christmas as a couple? (orig novel: Human Hieroglyphix I)

Culture Clash
Marianne was bowled over when her in-laws decided to accept her invitation to join her and Ram for the holidays. While her British mother-in-law is all for each and every Christmas tradition, her Asian sub-continent father-in-law is very vocal in his dislike of Marianne and all things Christmas. In the battle of wills, which one will get their way in celebrating the season? (orig novel: Tap Dance)

Mistletoe Needed
Crys and Gabe have been leading two different lives since they've been married. Outside of sticky notes, they never even talk. But when he confronts Crys about their problems, he discovers it takes two to make a marriage work. And then found the key in bringing them back together. (orig novel: Human Hieroglyphix II)

Wicked Weather Wedding
Three snowstorms in five days has caused Grantham to grind to a halt. With everything at a standstill, will Zoe and Trevor even be able to reach the hotel? And once there, will they actually be able to get married or is she doomed to be dragged away to Vegas in order to marry the man of her dreams? (orig novel: Bewitchments 1)

**Intended for mature audiences due to explicit language and strong sexual situations.**

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.A. Hornbuckle
• Release date: Dec 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9780991239122

J.A. Hornbuckle

J.A. Hornbuckle currently living in Arizona, but who is, as ever, getting the urge to move on. She's lived or traveled through forty-three of the fifty states here in the U.S. and has even lived in Wales and England. J.A. is an avid reader and calls her Kindle, "Boyfriend". She loves live music, red wine,and Arizona in the winter. She's been writing since she was young but has just now discovered that she has stories that other people enjoy.

Book preview

A Grantham Christmas

(Anthology)

by J.A. Hornbuckle

*.*.*.*.*

Published by J.A. Hornbuckle

*.*.*.*.*

A Grantham Christmas

Copyright © 2013 by J.A. Hornbuckle

Edited by: Laura Kingsley

Cover Design: Faustino Gaitan

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this novel with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy an additional copy for each recipient.

No part of this book may be distributed in any format, in whole or in part without the express written consent of the author.

Thank you for respecting the author's hard work.

This is a work of fiction and is not a reflection or representation of any person living or dead. Any similarity is of pure coincidence. Although, if you recognize yourself in any character represented, maybe we need to talk…

Dedication

To J & J…as always.

To Laura and Faus, the two that help me refine the creations. You guys are the best!

For those that have been with me on this journey, thanks for the memories! And to those that are still on their way, where've you been? My heart's been waiting for you!

Table of Contents

A Bad-Ass Christmas

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Culture Clash

Mistletoe Needed

Wicked Weather Wedding

About the Author

Other Books by J.A. Hornbuckle

A Bad-Ass Xmas

(Jake and Caitlin)

Orig novel: Pole Dance

One of five short novellas that showcase your favorite characters from Grantham, Colorado in their first Christmas together as a couple. While each can be read as a stand-alone, in order to completely appreciate the stories, its recommended you read the full novels first.

Jake is determined to make his and Caitlin's first Christmas together something special. For poor Cait, though, recent holidays were to be endured, not enjoyed. Between Jake's high expectations and Cait's reluctance to share her memories, will Jake pull her in or will she drive him away with her lack of holiday spirit?

My man, my amazing man, had dragged in a seven-foot, very needled, cut-off tree and presented it to me much like Floyd, my old fat cat, would've done in bringing me a mouse.

It was a trophy.

Something that, in less civilized times, would've had Jake thumping his chest as he brought it, needles trailing, into the house.

Okay, yeah.

I was getting it, the 'it' being Jake and how he expressed himself.

I was working dinner, a simple meatloaf and mashed potatoes kind of deal when he first brought the tree in and I glanced at him occasionally over my shoulder as he wrestled it into submission into the stand.

I know he studied it as it was seated into its holder. He cocked his head and viewed it with only one eye. He got out his very full tool box and used a level, just to ensure this tree, his tree, was completely straight before he turned to me. Turned to me with a little boy smile of accomplishment. Waiting, almost holding his breath, for my praise.

God, I loved these moments.

The moments when my big, strong, wonderful man looked to me, me, for approval.

We'd been together for quite a while now, almost nine months. But I was still stunned by Jake's love for me. No, wait.

I'm thinking that there may not be words enough for what was between us.

But before I could even unravel that thought, Jake joined me at the stove, where I stood leaning a hip into the counter.

Awesome, yeah? he asked in his deep, burnt velvet voice as he pressed his forehead to mine. My heart swelled with both his word and his action. This was 'our' move, the forehead to forehead thing and one that I couldn't resist.

Totally, I breathed, feeling my smile as it moved across my face.

So, he said pulling away, clapping and rubbing his hands together. Doin' the lights after dinner. Ornaments are next. Stored the boxes of Frank's and mine in the garage. Where're yours?

Uh, they didn't let me take them, I murmured, moving my eyes back down to the potatoes that were about as whipped as you could get without making them foam. I didn't want to look at his face knowing it would be scrunched in a frown. That same frown it always held when he was reminded of how little I'd received after my family had died three years before.

There were more than a few beats of silence between us but, as usual, that quiet wasn't uncomfortable.

Then, Pretty Girl, guess we'll have to get some to re-create those, yeah? Jake's hand on the back of my neck was reassuring as he spoke. Need to get more anyway.

More? I asked as I began to fill our plates.

Yeah. Stuff chronicling this past year. Of you and me. His voice was a firm rumble. He took the plates from me and moved them to the bar.

Oh, I murmured, knowing my voice held a note of surprise, which didn't even come close to the sparkles his words created inside. I saw him stop and turn towards me, his eyebrows lowered.

Babe, he growled warningly. You wearin' my ring?

Yeah, Jake, I answered, trying and failing not to grin as my left thumb reached and touched the band of the chocolate solitaire of my engagement ring.

You still plan on marryin' me as soon as you're done with school? Which, I might add, I think is a fuckin', fucked up plan, but whatever, he said, thumping the plates down and going to his 'I Am Man' alpha stance of folded arms on his chest, legs braced.

Yeah, baby. As soon as I graduate, I'm yours, I agreed, turning my face away so I could roll my eyes without getting a lecture about my lack of holiday or wedding spirit.

Even if its eighteen months away, Pretty Girl, it means somethin', yeah?

Very much, I answered, levering myself up onto the barstool. Let's eat before it gets cold.

Here's what we're gonna do, he announced, ignoring my suggestion. I swallowed my sigh, knowing he was off and running. I was only hoping that I wouldn't get another why- we- needed- to- get- married- tomorrow speech. Even though we were engaged, I was holding out on doing the actual ceremony until I got my degree, which was only eighteen months away.

According to Jake, though, eighteen months was a damn lifetime.

Think about the old shit, the memories that meant somethin'. We'll get new stuff that ties to it, yeah? He plopped down in the seat next to me and picked up his fork.

Got it, honey, I replied, spreading the napkin on my lap. God, everyone in town thought Jake was this big bad-ass kind of guy. And he was.

Sometimes.

But not with me.

Not when it came to me or the couple we'd become.

And, obviously, not about Christmas.

*.*.*.*.*

Her beauty, her fuckin' responsiveness to him had always been his undoing.

From the first moment they'd met in his large underground office beneath Fuego's, Grantham's only Pole Dance club, she'd been the object of his desire. And, the want she'd stirred inside him with her innocent, hesitant moves as she'd interviewed, had never gone away.

Just like now.

He'd just had her and yet his cock was still half-hard and twitching to take her again.

Christ!

In the flickering light of the small, gas fireplace of their bedroom, they'd made out like a couple of teenagers until he couldn't take anymore and began to undress her. Taking off her clothes slowly, like a much treasured Christmas present, the kind you were almost afraid of destroying as you unwrapped it, he'd uncovered her. Delighting in what he exposed. Needing to touch and taste all her pink places. Reveling in the smell, feel and flavor of her.

And the sounds she made: the mewls, whimpers and moans only drove his yearning higher. The feel of her hands on his body, soft caresses and sweet strokes, had become more demanding until he'd felt the clutch of her fingers on his back, his scalp, as he'd taken her; incited her.

Damn.

His cock was fully erect again and he could feel the sweet pain begin to coil in his lower back just thinking of burying himself inside her wet, tight, hot depths. The first round had been all mouths, tongues and fingers. Providing them both with a release to the pressure, the tension their play had caused. This second time, round two, was going to be even better.

She was wound around him, her head pressed to his chest, arm over his belly with a leg thrown carelessly over his hips. He was stroking her back and hip, running a thumb over her skin in aimless patterns.

Jake? he heard her soft voice call.

Right here, Pretty Girl, he rumbled.

What makes Christmas so important to you?

For a moment, his mind blanked at her question. It was a good question, a valid one. And, since he'd never addressed it straight up before, he had to think before he responded. He wanted for her, his Cait, to see the truth in him to his very core; to the man he actually was.

One of my first memories, yeah? he rumbled. Me, Frank, Mom and Dad at Christmas. Probably right before Mom hot-footed it out of town.

She was quiet, giving him the room to remember, the space to fucking speak, which was another amazing thing about his girl. The ability to let him just be himself was a gift he'd never been given before she came into his life.

He shifted so they were face-to-face, arms looped around one another with legs entwined, foreheads pressed. Not Christmas day, he continued. Think it was when we were decoratin' the tree. Hot chocolate. Big, soft ginger cookies with a red-hot candy stuck in the center. Christmas music on the cassette player with Mom and Dad dancin' to it cheek- to- cheek, right in the middle of the damn livin' room.

Jake felt her hand move, caressing him from pec to navel, subtle in her encouragement to keep on talking.

I remember lookin' over at Frank, wearin' his Transformer pajamas I knew would be passed down to me. Seein' his chocolate mustache and his eyes as he watched our parents danced around all the boxes of ornaments still piled around the room. Gazin' at the tree and thinkin' it was the best Christmas tree ever. Even he could hear the thickness in his voice as he gave words to the memory. There was beauty in that moment, yeah? He didn't know how to continue, how to express a little boy's awe in all love he could've almost grabbed with both hands.

He pulled back and watched as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

Wasn't tryin' to make you cry, Pretty, he whispered.

She smiled and raised a hand to stroke his jaw. Not all crying is bad, baby, she explained, her voice equally as soft. Not to a girl, anyway.

Tilting his head, he captured her mouth in an effort to help her feel all that was inside him. There was the memory and the hope that, someday, they'd give their children the same beauty he still held dear even after all these years. His head slanted so he could go deeper between her lips, their tongues doing the duel that created an ache within him.

His hands joined in, unable to stop their re-exploration of her soft skin, molding' to her curves. When his fingers caught on her nipple, firming it further, he was rewarded with a moan and soft hip thrust.

God, Cait… he groaned, sliding a hand down to her leg, pullin' it upwards and pressing his cock's head against her moist opening, hearing the 'snick' as her wet folds opened. Need you again, Darlin'.

Yes… Came the soft but fervent reply as she moved over onto her back and, when his body followed, he felt her legs wrap around high up on his hips while her arms went around his neck. God, yes, Jake.

He raised up on an arm, seeing the glow of love in her eyes as his hips flexed, anxious to feel her heat surround his now throbbing length. He glanced down, his eyes drawn to where they were just beginning to join. Just the sight of her swollen pink folds swallowing his thickness almost made him dizzy.

Fuck…, he moaned again and felt his eyes close, his head drop, overcome with the sight, the feel of her. He eased in further before moving himself out. The next stroke found him deeper, but still not deep enough. And, with every slide, he was rewarded with another soft sound from her, signaling her longing for more.

Once the full measure of him was encased inside her, he sat up on his knees and reached behind, capturing her ankles. Dragging them towards his chest, he placed her feet on his pecs and pressed her knees open. The sight, smell and feel of her open before him caused a shiver of excitement to roll down his spine. His eyes delighted in her dark hair spread out over the pillows, her hooded, warm blue-green eyes invitingly direct and her swollen wet lips were a siren's call. He felt her inner clench as she entreated him, almost begged him.

Don't stop, Jake. Please don't stop…

He couldn't halt his fingers as they reached between her legs to rub her distended pleasure center, which earned him a sharp hip churn, sliding herself on the hardest part of him.

God, yes! she blurted, her neck and back arching, grabbing the sides of the pillow.

He slid her feet off him and curled down to her, burying his face in her neck, pumping his hips, slewing them in the way he knew brought pleasure to them both.

Mouth, Cait, he demanded on a husky rumble. He loved it when they were joined at both ends, the movements of their hips echoed by their tongues. And from the way she hit it almost as soon as his lips encircled hers, he knew she loved it, too.

He gave it a valiant effort, but once feeling the rippling of her sweet pussy, Jake couldn't help but allow the sharp darts of pleasure from his balls, his spine, overcome him. And he jetted inside her with his own roar of bliss.

*.*.*.*.*

'Need soft ginger cookie recipe STAT!' I texted to the group the next morning. I knew between the five people of my closest circle of friends, one of them would either have or be able to get their hands on the recipe in question. If Leila, Marianne, Crys, Zoe or Frank-kay didn't have it, they'd move heaven and earth to find it. That's just the kind of friends they were.

From the moment my eyes had opened that morning, I was determined to make another Christmas heart- memory for my man and nothing was going to prevent it. Jake didn't talk about his past much, and the stuff I'd heard previously wasn't very good. In fact, the one he shared last night was one of the best he'd ever talked through with me. I was still uncertain if his life had just been that brand of shit, or if he was simply reluctant to admit to having good times outside of me.

I hoped it was the former, because we were still finding our way together even though we'd been joined at the hip for more than a few months now. Months of discovery and joy, of closeness, but we didn't talk much about the earlier times. Maybe because our recent past contained some not so nice things.

My cellphone bleeped with an incoming text message. Things were slow this time of year at the place where I worked, D & J Accounting Services, so I was able to keep my phone out on my desk. Jake was a co-owner but had, at my insistence, kept his nose out of it when I'd applied and got the part-time receptionist job.

'Bring'g by list 4 Children. Lunch?' read Jake's incoming text.

'Yes, pls,' I sent back. Although Aaron, the office manager, was okay with my cellphone on my desk when it was slow, I didn't want to push it and kept my response short.

The list Jake had referred to was something I'd never heard of before. While we were roaming the hay-strewn paths of one of the Christmas lots in our search for Jake's perfect tree, he'd explained that he also bought the tree and circulated a list for the Children's ward at Grantham General. According to my man, Every child deserves a Christmas, especially if they're away from home.

I had to admit, I had to turn away so he couldn't see my tearful reaction to his statement. I hadn't celebrated Christmas since my family had… Well, you know.

When I'd gotten up that morning, probably an hour after Jake had already left, I found a sticky note on the expansive mirror of the master bathroom. What was the best X- Mas present you ever received? it asked.

Hands down, it had been my bike.

The first two-wheeler I'd ever owned. Pink framed with pink and white plastic strips embedded in the handle bars that flared when I rode and covered in Barbie stickers, I must've ridden it from one end of Grantham to the other. It'd had a white basket clamped to the handle bars that had allowed me to run errands for my mom, my circle of trajectory expanding over the years.

I'd loved that damn thing.

But, I loved that Jake thought to ask me, had helped bring it back to mind, even more. I tucked the sticky into one of my blank journals, my 'Jake' journal, where I kept all the notes he'd left for me. Not that there were all that many but there were enough.

The day passed and Jake brought me lunch, which we shared in the tiny break-room of the offices located above Buxby's, Grantham's premier coffee house. I taped the Grantham Children's Ward list on the slim refrigerator with a pen nearby so people could pick and choose the gifts they wanted to contribute, to help the young, sick ones.

He wasn't around when I got home, but I found another sticky on the picture of us during our first date at Enrique's, propped on the window ledge above the sink. Jake had asked the waitress to take our picture and it was a keeper. One that I caught him looking at time and again.

'What's your favorite Christmas sweet treat?' it read.

I closed my eyes and let my tongue's memory roam, searching for the one thing that tasted like the holidays to me. My dad's heritage was Hispanic, so tamales were always a part of the special celebrations. But Jake had been specific, using the word 'sweet'.

White Peppermint Bark.

White chocolate slowly melting in the upper pan of Mom's double boiler, sprinkled with crushed peppermint pieces that she'd let me or my sister pound between two sheets of waxed paper. Slowly drizzled onto a cookie sheet, the ripples from the pouring taking on the contours of tree bark before she slid it into the freezer to solidify.

I stood at the sink and let the memory wash over me, of me and Mom laughing as we worked.

Come on, Caity-did. You've got to work faster, little one, she'd urged. The smell of the chocolate and the sharp peppermint tang had filled the warm air of our family kitchen. Shoots of happiness had entwined through me as I remembered, the recollection so clear I could even smell my mother's perfume and the underlying 'mommy' smell that was her, just her. An aroma that always spelled home and comfort to me.

I opened my eyes and read Jake's question again before peeling it off and making my way upstairs to add it to my journal. The memory it had invoked was in, and of itself, a gift.

Yet another present from my gorgeous man.

*.*.*.*.*

He knew she was getting them, the little notes he left since all evidence of them were gone when he returned home. She never mentioned them and he didn't either, but he liked that she kept it secreted away from their everyday lives.

This was their first major holiday together, and he knew that in order to go forward, they each had to remember, then let the past go. Let it go with as much caring and love as they were able.

Jake thought he'd had an easier time of it because of Miss Lilly. She'd been their neighbor when he'd been growing up, giving herself to the two young brothers left motherless with a father who couldn't cope as a single parent or a widower. No matter what the holiday, Miss Lilly had made it special. And, although he'd lost her earlier this year, his heart still missed her every day.

Cait, however, hadn't had anyone following the loss of her parents the summer after her high school graduation. With no family and hardly any friends, she had, from everything he'd uncovered and all that she'd admitted, simply put one foot in front of the other and just kept on surviving. But all of that had changed in the past year.

He was standing at the breakfast bar, going through the stack of mail she'd left piled on one end. She'd advised him she was going to take a long soak in his 'ginormous' bathtub after she'd greeted him at the door with a kiss. He always got a kiss of welcome and a kiss good-bye; Cait's way of letting him know that he was valued, treasured by her. And his heart always swelled with her demonstration.

Each and every fuckin' time.

Christmas cards.

Bills.

Trevor and Zoe's wedding invitation.

He smiled and ran his thumb across the raised letters of the ivory stock. How Trevor had talked his woman into getting married so soon, Jake still hadn't figured out. And, he had to admit, he was jealous.

Cait was his, he knew. Bu, he wanted her tied to him formally, legally, but she was stubbornly clinging to getting her degree first. Something her parents had wanted and it seemed to be her way of honoring them. So he didn't press it often or much.

He took the cards to the mantle over the living room fireplace and propped them up. There were almost too many for it to hold, and he bent his head to look at the signatures on the insides. Yep, most of them were hand-written instead of the machine printed from pre-ordered cards from other businesses. But then, that had probably changed when Dale had bought his share of Fuego's. Not that Jake was complaining since he'd been looking to get out of that particular bit of business for a while. Caitlin had just forced him to do it sooner than later and not by anything she'd said or done.

As he'd explained it to her, he wanted a family. A household of kids but didn't want any kid of his exposed to that side of sex. The seamier side where drugs, kink or the desperation of easy money corrupted people —forcing them to do things they wouldn't normally do. Nope, he wanted his children to grow up knowing that their parents loved each other, and that sex was just a part of what naturally happened. If they chose the other after they'd left the family home, it would be all on them.

Jake scooted the opened envelopes and junk mail into the trash and quickly paid the bills, both online and with a check before moving to the drawer that held a pad of sticky notes and their pens. He wanted to do another question for her and had already planned on leaving it on the jug of orange juice in the fridge. He knew from experience that she reached for the juice even before her first cup of coffee. His girl loved her coffee.

Which question, though?

After giving Mustard, his yellow Labrador, a double scoop of food and writing his question out with the black felt-tipped marker, Jake legged it up the stairs.

His girl was naked and wet. Maybe even just waiting for him in the tub.

He grabbed the back of his t-shirt on the landing, wondering if he still had time to join her in the mass of bubbles he knew she loved to wallow in.

*.*.*.*.*

He'd taken me in the bathtub, chest to chest, my lap in his, before taking me again on his bed.

Because of