The Snowman

By Sky Corgan

Ferne Lynch hates living in Alaska. She wants nothing more than to get away and explore the world. That doesn't seem like a realistic possibility though when her parents seem to be doing whatever it takes to keep her at home.

When they finally go on vacation and leave Ferne alone to tend to the homestead, she can't resist the urge to have a little fun. Building a snowman and wishing on a star feels like child's play until a mysterious man shows up on Ferne's doorstep in the middle of the night. After listening to his outlandish story, Ferne can't quite figure out if their meeting was by chance, or if something magical is happening.

Heat Level: Sweet

This is a stand-alone short story with a happy ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sky Corgan
• Release date: Mar 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507040928

Book preview

Mutant carrots! Martha holds up the bag to me, as if I didn't see it the second we turned onto the produce aisle. I can't help but burst out laughing, though it's more from Martha's wide-eyed excitement than anything else.

Those are strange. I nod slowly, not knowing what else to say.

Look! She points to the other bags of carrots in the display. They're all the same brand—how odd that carrots have a brand—but these are at least three inches longer than the rest. It's like the packaging was specially made just for this specific batch of carrots, and it's the only one on the shelf.

I know. That's so odd. I furrow my eyebrows, putting way too much thought into why they're different from the others.

You have to get them. She practically hops, her boobs bouncing in the low-cut shirt she's wearing.

So I can make mutant carrot stew? The idea of using the carrots makes me uncomfortable. Even though they're on sale with the rest, it irks me that they're different, like it was a mistake on the grocer's part.

They're the same price as the others, she points out. More carrot for your money. Martha tosses them into my basket. With that out of the way, her attention immediately switches to something else. My cheeks turn beet red as she grabs her breasts and squishes them together, making super muffin-top cleavage. Want to touch my boobs? Her eyes light up. I saw you looking at them.

Oh God, just stop. I take a few long strides, trying to get away from her. She's so embarrassing sometimes, but she's always been like this. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

We've been friends forever. And by forever, I mean since I tortured my parents into allowing me to go to public school. And by torture, I mean by being the child from hell. When my parents first moved to Alaska, they decided they wanted to do the whole homesteading thing, and that included homeschooling me. I don't think they ever suspected I'd have other plans.

When I was small, I had no choice but to follow their way. Life is all about work when you don't have electricity or other modern comforts. At night though, when the work was done, I'd sit on Father's lap in front of the fire while he told me stories about how