Merry and Bright

By Aaron Michaels

The very best of gay holiday romance from acclaimed author Aaron Michaels.

From snowy Lake Tahoe to the heat of the California desert, from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Eve, love and sex mix with the holidays in tales of unexpected romance at the office, on the beach, or in a laid-back tavern—and the joys of spending the holidays with a long-time lover.

These eight tales of holiday romance include the story that launched Wiseguys Tony and Carter on their Idaho adventures as well as Aaron’s brand new novella Jingle Bell Doc, not available elsewhere.

Cuddle up and enjoy the holidays with stories that will make you believe romance is alive and well—and sexy as hell!

“I hated to see this story end.” –Top 2 Bottom Reviews (reviewing Aaron Michael’s Wiseguys: Blast from the Past)

“A love affair destined to live on after the last page is turned.” –Kiernan Kelly, author of Two Spirits (reviewing Aaron Michael’s Comstock)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thunder Valley Press
• Release date: Dec 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370630974

Aaron Michaels

Aaron Michaels is a romantic at heart. While he's not averse to writing the occasional hard-edged gay erotic story, he prefers love stories where the characters get at least a happy for now, if not happily ever after ending. When he's not writing, he's watching way too much television and movies, which means his video game skills have pretty much fallen by the wayside.In addition to publications from Thunder Valley Press, Aaron's gay erotic romance stories can be found in numerous anthologies edited by Neil Plakcy, including MODEL MEN, THE HANDSOME PRINCE, SKATER BOYS, and HARD HATS, as well as at Torquere Books.

Book preview

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Copyright Information

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The Spirit of Christmas

Copyright © 2012 by Aaron Michaels

The Perfect Pumpkin Pie

Copyright © 2009 by Aaron Michaels

Wiseguys: Christmas in Idaho

Copyright © 2007 by Aaron Michaels

Secret Santa

Copyright © 2008 by Aaron Michaels

Christmas on the Coast

Copyright © 2009 by Aaron Michaels

The Man Who Didn’t Like Snow

Copyright © 2011 by Aaron Michaels

Jingle Bell Doc

Copyright © 2017 by Aaron Michaels

Hopeful Romantic

Copyright © 2010 by Aaron Michaels

Merry and Bright

Published by Thunder Valley Press

Cover and Layout copyright © 2017 Thunder Valley Press

Cover art copyright © rdrgraphe/Bigstockphoto.com

Cover art copyright © vakim/Depositphotos.com

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

The very best of gay holiday romance from acclaimed author Aaron Michaels.

From snowy Lake Tahoe to the heat of the California desert, from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Eve, love and sex mix with the holidays in tales of unexpected romance at the office, on the beach, or in a laid-back tavern—and the joys of spending the holidays with a long-time lover.

These eight tales of holiday romance include the story that launched Wiseguys Tony and Carter on their Idaho adventures as well as Aaron’s brand new novella Jingle Bell Doc, not available elsewhere.

Cuddle up and enjoy the holidays with stories that will make you believe romance is alive and well—and sexy as hell!

I hated to see this story end. –Top 2 Bottom Reviews (reviewing

Aaron Michael’s Wiseguys: Blast from the Past)

A love affair destined to live on after the last page is turned. –Kiernan Kelly,

author of Two Spirits (reviewing Aaron Michael’s Comstock)

The Spirit of Christmas

The Perfect Pumpkin Pie

Wiseguys: Christmas in Idaho

Secret Santa

Christmas on the Coast

The Man Who Didn’t Like Snow

Jingle Bell Doc

Hopeful Romantic

About the Author

Copyright Information

_________________________________

The Spirit of Christmas

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Jack Jennings lifted one eyebrow and surveyed the broadcast booth. Man, this just doesn’t feel like Christmas.

Gilly Starlight, the wee hours of the morning DJ, had taped up a Christmas card sized cardboard Santa Claus on the window between the broadcast booth and the producer’s studio. Santa held a Coca Cola bottle in one hand— We call that product placement, kiddies, Jack’s television producer friend, Artie, liked to say—a candy cane in the other, and looked dementedly jolly. Gilly had used a red dry-erase marker to write Merry Ho-Ho-Ho on the glass over Santa’s head.

That was the lone concession to the holidays within the broadcast center of WJFG—Just Feel Good radio—98.7 on your FM dial.

That, and the non-stop holiday music the station had been playing since the day after Thanksgiving.

Jack loved the holidays as much as the next man—probably more than the next man if the next man was Gilly—but even he was getting tired of the latest Mannheim Steamroller single, which Carson, the program director, had slotted at least once an hour for the last three weeks.

Pathetic, agreed Hannah, one-third of the Hannah, Dave, and Donnie morning drive-time show. We should at least have a tree or something.

Hannah and Jack were both in the station to record their portions of WJFG’s annual Christmas special, which would air from ten to midnight on Christmas Eve.

Pete, the station manager, believed almost to the point of religious fervor that live radio should, in fact, be live, complete with miscues, flubs, dead air (it’s amazing how long five seconds of silence can actually be when your job is to make sure there’s never a possibility the listening audience thinks you’ve gone off the air) and the occasional explanation to the FCC about a word that slipped out when it shouldn’t have. The only reason Pete allowed his DJs to pre-record the Christmas Eve special was so he didn’t have to pay his entire on-air staff time and a half to work the night before Christmas.

Hannah had gone off shift at eleven; Jack didn’t go on shift until three. He had no reason to be in the station at eleven-thirty in the morning since he could have recorded his bit a half hour before his show started, but rumor had it that Parker Adams, the station’s eleven at night to three in the morning DJ, might actually be showing up around noon to record his segment.

Technically, Jack supposed Parker could have done his bit live since that was his normal slot, but Parker always had Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. No one at the station knew why. At least no one Jack had asked, and he had asked everyone he knew, from Hannah, Dave, and Donnie (who was the station’s biggest gossip, by far) to Grace, the pretty brunette assistant who worked directly for Pete. Jack enjoyed flirting with Grace, even though they both knew nothing would come of it. Jack, because he wasn’t wired that way (hence his interest in Parker) and Grace because she had a handsome man of her own at home and a baby on the way.

You should just ask Parker yourself, sweetie, Grace had told him. Maybe he’ll find those gorgeous eyes of yours as hard to say no to as the rest of us do.

Jack had snorted. Okay, sure, Donnie had made a pass at him the first week Jack had been promoted to an official on-the-air personality instead of toiling away as an unpaid intern, but then again, Donnie made passes at everyone, regardless of gender. Donnie’s all-inclusive, randy-boy personality was part of his charm, not to mention what made him so good in the Hannah, Dave, and Donnie three-way.

Everyone else at the station had found it exceedingly easy to say no to Jack. He hadn’t had a date in ages, sad to say, and might not ever again if he couldn’t even strike up a decent conversation with Parker. The man was as hard to pin down in conversation as he was gorgeous.

In the beginning, Jack had thought it was just because he’d been an intern. Jack had taken a couple of years off from schooling to try his hand at acting. When that hadn’t panned out as well as he’d hoped, he’d gone back to college. Consequently, he was a few years older than the station’s usual interns, or so Pete had told him at his intake interview.

I don’t allow any monkey business around here, Pete had said. No fraternizing with the on-air talent. You’re here to work. If I think you’ve decided this is just an easy way to meet a local celebrity, I won’t hesitate to end your internship early, and you can explain to your advisor why you need a new placement.

Jack had blinked and arched on eyebrow. He wasn’t flamboyantly gay, but he knew he wasn’t the most macho of men either. He was about to explain to his new boss that not all gay men behaved like the backroom boys on shows like Queer as Folk when Pete disarmed him with a fleeting smile.

That’s part of my canned speech, Pete had said. Most interns the college sends me are starry-eyed coeds barely out of high school who’d like nothing better than to ‘hook up,’ I believe the term is, with the man behind the voice on the radio. If I don’t give you the same speech, someone will accuse me of gender bias. Can’t have that, now can we?

As an intern, Jack had worked his tail off doing scut work. By the third day he knew the entire staff’s Starbucks orders by heart, not to mention who got what at Krispy Kreme and P. F. Chang’s. But he also went out of his way to ask questions and learn how the station was run.

As central California FM radio stations went, WJFG wasn’t a big operation. It wasn’t a subsidiary of some corporation owned by a multi-billion dollar conglomerate. WJFG was actually named for the station’s original owners—Justin, Frank, and Gordon Willby—and the Willby family still owned the place. The station was middle of the road, ratings-wise. Good enough to stay on the air, but not good enough to attract major talent or the syndication deals that went with them. True, the DJs like Donnie and Hannah and Dave were minor local celebrities who were in demand for business luncheons and local charity events, but they’d never be recruited by a bigger station.

Parker, on the other hand, had come from a larger station—a much larger station—in Los Angeles. There his blue-eyed, dimple-chinned, chisel-cheeked face had been plastered on billboards and the sides of buses. He’d done a combination talk/music show featuring interviews with politicians and businessmen as well as poetry readings and live studio performances by indie musicians.

He’d been good at it, too. Jack had listened to Parker’s demo tape one afternoon while he was shelving commercials in the little production booth the staff used to record their promo spots. The demo included clips from Parker’s L.A. show, as well as various broadcast styles Parker could do on demand. The one that must have sold Pete was Parker’s laid-back, intimate, let’s get together and have a chat style—perfect for the midnight shift. Parker’s soft, slightly-raspy voice had certainly gotten Jack’s attention.

From everything Jack had been able to find out, Parker had been moderately successful in huge L.A. market, right up until the day Parker had lost it on air and called a prominent conservative talking head a word that even the DJs on WJFG couldn’t get away with saying on live radio. By all accounts, it had been a very subdued Parker who had taken the vacant midnight shift at WJFG six months later.

Jack had only seen the man in person a few times during his internship, but those few times had been enough to convince Jack that not only was Parker the most gorgeous older man he’d ever met, Parker was also gay. Or at least bi. And Jack had a serious thing for older men.

So began Jack’s subtle campaign to get Parker to notice him. Jack did everything from lining up all of Parker’s commercials in order of air play (Jack was only required to pull, not organize, the cassettes for the commercials the DJs didn’t read live on air) to making sure the break room was stocked with the exact brand of vitamin water Parker drank during his shift (Jack had figured that out by beating the janitor to the trash in the mornings). Whether Parker noticed these niceties or not, Jack never knew because every time Jack saw Parker around the station and flashed one of his mega-watt smiles at the man, all he got was a nod and a grunt in acknowledgment.

After his internship ended, Jack told Pete he’d love to come work for the station as a DJ. Donnie even helped Jack put together a demo tape of his own. Based on his acting experience, limited as it was, Jack had come up with an on-air personality he thought might appeal to WJFG’s audience, something Donnie had described as aging forty-somethings who still thought they listened to the cool music. Six months later WJFG’s afternoon DJ had moved with his new wife to the other side of the country, and Pete called Jack.

That was eight months ago.

Eight months of sitting in a broadcast booth from three in the afternoon to seven in the evening talking into a microphone while staring at a wall full of equipment.

Eight months of playing music that was not the cool music but only a memory of good times two decades (at least) in the past.

Eight months of doing remote broadcasts at used-car sales events, trade shows, and at least twice from the driver’s seat of a school bus as part of the station’s campaign to get listeners to donate school supplies for underprivileged kids.

And eight months of telling himself that Parker didn’t notice him, would never notice him, and he might as well pound that idea into his thick if ever-hopeful skull.

I think he’s a burnout, Donnie had said the last time their conversation turned to Parker. Did too many drugs in the ‘90s and it finally caught up to him. You’re just as well off he doesn’t want to talk to you. You should take the hint and move on to greener pastures.

Donnie had waggled his eyebrows at Jack, a leering smile on his lips.

I take it you’re the greener pasture, Jack had said.

I take too many drugs in the here and now, my friend, and I don’t mind sharing. The leer got bigger. It could be fun.

Jack didn’t want to burst Donnie’s bubble, but not everyone was the same person on air as off. Jack might flirt his way through his afternoon shift, but that was how he connected with his audience, who were mostly moms picking up their kids from school and tired office workers driving home after a long day at work. That didn’t mean he slept around in real life.

Have you got your script together for your spot? Hannah asked, bringing Jack back to the here and now. Or are you just going to wing it?

Hannah, Dave, and Donnie might sound totally ad-lib on their show, but Jack knew they met every day for two hours before their morning show to hammer out a basic script. His television producer friend would be impressed by the amount of writing the three DJs did before their show hit the air. The idea of winging anything was totally foreign to Hannah.

Jack, on the other hand, did his best work unrehearsed. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. Back when he’d been trying to make it as an actor, the more he rehearsed a scene, the staler it got and the worse his performance was.

I go with my strengths, sweetheart, he said.

Hannah stuck her tongue out at him and wished him good luck. I’ve heard your show, she said. You’re going to need all the luck you can get.

Hannah and her script escaped into the production booth before Jack could get in a good retort.

The Christmas Eve show was all about bonding with the audience. According to Pete, the only people listening to the radio on Christmas Eve were people driving to and from church, to and from family gatherings, and frazzled parents still trying to wrap junior’s Christmas presents. Instead of exploiting the station’s listeners by getting people to call in and spill their guts on live radio, Pete had his DJs share their own most memorable holiday moments with the listeners.

Or, in Hannah’s case—and most likely in Donnie’s—share the most poignant memories a decent script meeting could concoct.

Hannah was still in the production booth recording her fake memories when Parker showed up.

The production booth was down the hall from the broadcast booth. Jack had been lingering in the hallway watching Hannah emote on cue through the little window in the production booth’s door while he tried to gather his thoughts about what he wanted to say. He saw Parker glance at the cardboard Santa and the red-lettered holiday wishes on the big glass window of the broadcast booth and shake his head.

Hey, Parker, Jack said when Parker got close enough to talk to.

He half-expected Parker to grunt an acknowledgment, if that, and just keep on walking toward the break room. Instead, Parker surprised him by sitting down in the hallway just outside the production booth’s door.

After all this time of basically being ships passing in the night (or early evening; Parker did occasionally show up early for his shift, and if Jack was working late, he’d see Parker holed up in the production booth, earphones on, back to the window in the door, speaking earnestly into the mike), Jack didn’t know what to say.

You want to go next? Jack finally said. She’s close to being done.

Parker tilted his head up. He had on a well-worn leather cowboy hat. His gaze was guarded, his blue eyes faded and tired. Jack wondered if the man had slept since he got off shift at three.

No, I can wait. Parker pulled a small notebook out of the pocket of his nondescript jacket. I’ve got some work I can do.

He bent his head back down. The hat cut off any further possibility of conversation.

It was the most words Jack had ever heard Parker say when he wasn’t on air, but it was still the verbal equivalent of a grunt.

You are the most frustrating man, Jack blurted out. He plopped down on the floor so that he was sitting directly across from Parker. I’ve been trying to make friends with you from the moment I saw you, and– Jack stopped, so frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words.

Why? Parker asked.

Jack blinked. Why what?

Why have you been trying to make friends with me from the moment you saw me?

Parker didn’t say it like he was annoyed. In fact, he sounded genuinely curious.

Because you’re the hottest man I’ve ever met? Because I can’t help undressing you in my mind? Because I want you to look at me as intently while we fuck as you were looking at that notebook?

Jack sighed. None of those responses would be the best way to answer what seemed like an honest question, but a line of bullshit wouldn’t do it either.

Because I’d like to get to know you better, that’s all.

Jack knew it was the wrong thing to say the minute it was out of his mouth. Parker’s expression closed off almost like he was shutting a door. A door that had only been open a tiny crack to begin with.

Okay, look, Jack said quickly. I admit it. I think you’re hot. But I also think you’re incredibly interesting. I listen to your show sometimes, and even though you don’t talk much, it seems like you have all this knowledge about all sorts of things. It’s like everything in life interests you, and it’s been driving me insane that I can’t get you to have any interest in me.

Parker looked at him for so long that Jack felt his cheeks heat up.

This was embarrassing, and so not how Jack wanted his first real conversation with Parker to go. Donnie had been right. The guy was just too weird for words. No wonder he was hiding out in WJFG land.

At least you’re honest, Parker said finally. I’d heard you were an actor. I’ve known a few. Not many remember how to be honest with other people.

Jack’s hands were cold, and he felt shaky inside. Nerves. He recognized the feeling from back when he’d been auditioning. He shouldn’t be surprised. He felt like he was auditioning – for the role of Parker’s friend, if not something more. Only with this gig there wouldn’t be any callbacks where he’d get a second chance to make a good impression.

Okay, then. What did he have to lose?

When we’re done here, can I buy you a cup of coffee? Jack asked. I know all the great coffee shops nearby.

Parker almost smiled. I bet you do. Pete’s always had his interns make the coffee runs.

I used to wonder who did it between interns. Grace?

Not a chance. Everyone gets their own.

Really? Even the morning guys?

Grace doesn’t do coffee, Parker said. I think it might even be a clause in her contract.

Jack managed a small smile. So is that a yes? You’ll let me buy you coffee?

Yes.

Yes?

Now Parker did smile. It transformed him from the guarded, tired man who’d sat down in the hallway just moments ago into the man Jack really did want to be friends with. Friends, and so much more.

Yes, Parker said. Coffee sounds great.

Jack wrapped up his Christmas Eve show at seven with a Bing Crosby standard. Not that it was likely to be a white Christmas in WJFG land, but Jack had always liked the song. He’d asked Carson, the program director, to slot it for his close, and wonder of wonder, the man actually did. Amazing for a man who’d nixed Hannah’s request to put a tiny artificial Christmas tree in the broadcast booth.

Jack wasn’t ready for Parker to be in the production studio, especially not on Christmas Eve, but there the man was, his back to the tiny window in the production booth’s door, headphones on, speaking into the mike.

They’d gone for coffee four times since that morning when they’d both sat on the carpet in the hallway waiting for booth time to record their Christmas memories. Parker had turned out to be even more fascinating than Jack imagined. For one thing, he’d traveled to more countries than Jack had ever thought about doing. And Parker hadn’t just gone to the tourist hot spots; he’d immersed himself in the cultures he’d visited, learning languages and dialects and customs. It was clear from the way he talked about his travels that he’d come to care deeply about the places he’d visited.

All of that made Jack wonder exactly what Parker’s portion of the station’s Christmas special would be about. Jack had finally decided to talk about his darkest days as an actor, about how he’d had to give up his dream, how hard that was, and how, in the end, he’d found another one. Jack had never asked Parker what he’d recorded, and Parker had never volunteered.

It didn’t really matter. Jack planned to listen to the Christmas Eve show and find out. He didn’t have any other plans for the holiday. Pete had the weekend staff work on Christmas Day, and Jack wanted to spend a luxurious day not talking to anyone except maybe his cat.

He thought about leaving Parker alone to do whatever it was he was doing. It had to be important to draw the man down here on Christmas Eve. Parker was clearly busy, but then again, Jack thought they’d gotten to the point where he might be able to interrupt Parker and not ruin their friendship.

He flipped the switch on the outside of the production booth door, the one that made a red light blink on and off over the control panel. Parker glanced up at the light, and then turned around to look at Jack. He held up a finger—his index finger, luckily—the universal sign for just one minute, and turned back to the board.

Jack leaned against the wall on the other side of the hallway and watched Parker finish up. Jack knew a little bit about the production side of things. It had been one of the areas he’d tried to learn during his internship, but it was obvious Parker knew far more than Jack did. Parker flipped switches and punched controls like a real pro. When he was done, he disconnected a flash drive from the control panel and slipped it into his pocket along with a paperback book.

I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Jack said as Parker came out of the studio. I thought you always had Christmas Eve and day off.

Got behind, Parker said.

You want to grab a cup of coffee? Jack asked. Somewhere there had to be a coffee shop still open at seven-thirty on Christmas Eve.

Can’t. Have somewhere I’m supposed to be, and I’m late.

Jack was surprised at how disappointed he felt. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting to see Parker until after Christmas, but he still felt like a kid who got his hopes up when he saw a Christmas present just the right size to hold the thing he’d been wanting all year only to rip off the wrapping and find a pair of underwear.

Parker seemed to hesitate. Jack still wasn’t the best at reading Parker’s expressions. The man could be maddeningly enigmatic when he wanted to be.

You have anything going on tonight? Parker asked.

Just going home to my cat.

Parker nodded to himself. Still with the enigmatic. Jack decided to wait him out.

Think your cat would be disappointed if you were a couple of hours late? Parker asked after a significantly long pause.

Did Jack hear that right? Are you asking me out?

It’s not what you think, Parker said. Not like a typical date.

The man had actually said date. Jack tried to keep himself from shouting a loud Yes! and pumping his fist in the air. A display like that would probably scare Parker away.

Is anything typical with you? Jack asked instead.

Parker grinned. Hardly anything.

Case in point—Parker’s truck. It might have been new when Jack was still