Joy's Christmas Rebellion: Dirty Sons Of Santa, #4

By Astrid Eliasen

Is she the leader of the elf rebellion or his one true love?

 

Things turn from nice to naughty at the North Pole when Michael, the absentee brother, is left to cover as the Santa in charge. Almost immediately, the elves' hatred of him changes from disdain to plots of rebellion and even arson.

What's worse is the way Michael's body reacts to Joy, the elves' traitorous leader.

She may want to destroy Christmas, but every time she opens her mouth he burns with a lust hot enough to melt the polar ice caps. When threats escalate, and Joy becomes a target, Michael realizes the depth of his feelings. But will it be too late to save her from the arsonist?

 

This quick read is over the top and action packed, but it doesn't skimp on the sweetness or spice. If you're looking for something to warm a cold winter's night, this is it.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Astrid Eliasen
• Release date: Dec 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393564645

Book preview

Joy's Christmas Rebellion

Dirty Sons Of Santa #4

Astrid Eliasen

Copyright © 2018 by Astrid Eliasen

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Contents

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One

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Michael

Smoke curled around Michael filling his lungs until he couldn’t help but cough. This was not what he agreed to when he said he would cover for his brothers. The elves were plotting rebellion, and now the reindeer barn was burning.

Rivers of sweat ran down his face, clouding his vision. Heart racing, he wiped it away with a soot covered hand.

The water from their hoses did nothing to quench the ever climbing tongues of flame. Each breath was a gasp, but nothing would make them stop fighting to save the doomed structure.

The brays of the reindeer floated to his ears occasionally. Thank goodness they’d been in the pasture when the fire broke out. It had spread too fast. They would never have gotten them out in time. As for the stable hands, they’d accounted for all the elves on shift when the fire started.

Some of the elves fighting the fire redirected their hoses to keep the rest of the wooden buildings safe from the ever hungry flames. But Michael kept his pointed at the barn.

Despite being one of Santa’s children, he’d never had a place at the North Pole. If he could save the barn that would change. The ground under the building grew soggy as the North Pole melted under the heat of fire. His hopes melted with it. He could have been a hero.

All at once there was a shuddering boom as the roof caved in. His chances at saving the day, and being welcomed into his family, were gone. A smoldering pile of rubble stood in place of the once welcoming structure. There was no saving it now. Yet he kept his hose pointed at it until there was nothing left, but soggy ruins.

His body screamed in pain, and his heart ached just as bad. His brothers would never trust him again. For their next vacation they’d leave an elf in charge. Just like they’d done with the workshop after dad died.

Even frozen stiff, with ash and sweat caked so thick on his skin it would never wash out, he didn’t get a break. A young, fresh faced male elf with white hair approached on shaky legs.

Sir, what do we do with the reindeer? I mean, the reindeer stalls are gone. Where can we put them?

The stalls were gone? It wasn’t just the stalls; it was the hayloft, the sleigh, the whole damn barn, even the booze.

Just take care of them. He growled wishing he’d never left his comfy job to cover for his idiot brothers. Before this trip he’d gotten respect when he visited, but from now on that was out the window.

Where do I put them? The stable burned down. The boy pleaded for clarity that Michael didn’t have the patience to give.

I don’t care, just don’t lose them.

But where-

That’s your fucking job, figure it out. Michael said, done with the conversation.

The small elf burst into tears.

Chris, why don’t you come with me and we’ll take care of them, a soft feminine voice offered from somewhere to the right of his field of vision.

At first Michael was grateful for the reprieve. But then he looked to his right and recognized the she-elf. Fucking b- Why did it have to be her? She’d stolen his position running the workshop, and he was fairly sure she was leading the rebellion.

Go away Tinkerbell. We don’t need your input.

"But how