The Santa Emergency

By Nell Iris

“I have a Santa emergency and I desperately need your help.”

Sigge isn’t exactly a grinch when it comes to Christmas, but he’s not a fan of the holiday either. So when his new neighbor Kristian shows up in a panic, begging him to help by donning a Santa suit, Sigge’s gut reaction is to say no. But Kristian is cute and funny, rendering Sigge powerless against his heartfelt plea -- especially after a promise of spending more time together -- so he agrees.

The instant connection deepens as they share mulled wine and conversation as easy as breathing. But is it just holiday magic swirling in the air, or is it something real? Something that will last into the new year and beyond?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Dec 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646569953

Nell Iris

Nell is a forty-something bisexual Swedish woman, married to the love of her life, and a proud mama of a grown daughter. She left the Scandinavian cold and darkness for warmer and sunnier Malaysia a few years ago, and now spends her days writing, surfing the Internet, enjoying the heat, and eating good food. One day she decided to chase her lifelong dream of being a writer, sat down in front of her laptop, and wrote a story about two men falling in love. Nell writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angst, and wants to write diverse and different characters.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I have a Santa emergency and I desperately need your help. The words pour from my new neighbor’s mouth the moment I open the front door, before I even have time to say hello.

He recently moved in, so I’ve seen him only a few times, but I’ve definitely noticed him. He always looks friendly and happy, even when sprinting from his house to his car in the mornings so fast, I fear he’ll spill his coffee from his thermos mug. His hair and beard are inky black, neat, and impeccably styled, but not even the beard can hide how young he looks. The early twenties, had been my guess, but up close, I see a few thin lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. His eyes are warm and chocolatey, sprinkled with golden flecks and mischief.

Like every other time I’ve seen him, he’s wearing a suit. It’s probably the most well-fitting garment I’ve ever seen, accentuating his tall, lean physique, making his legs look miles long, his shoulders narrow but strong, and the few hints of his ass I’ve gotten make my mouth water.

But, unlike the other times I’ve seen him, he’s finished off today’s outfit with a cheerful, fluffy Santa hat. I love the whimsy of it. The severe suits would make it easy to believe he’s prim and proper and businesslike all the time, but the silly hat tells a story of a man with humor, of a man who doesn’t take himself too seriously. For all its goofiness, it makes him even more attractive.

Please? he says, forcing me to stop ogling him and pay attention to what he’s saying.

Uh, hi, I say, trying not to wince over my eloquence. I clear my throat before continuing. A Santa emergency?

Yes! He accentuates his reply with a sharp nod. And if you’d invite me in and let me explain, I’d be forever grateful. I have— he glances at his watch, a black chunky thing that dwarfs his wrist —exactly forty-seven minutes until Donald Duck ends and my problem needs to be solved. His teeth clatter around his words, chopping up the syllables, and he shivers; the thermometer has been firmly set in the Arctic temperature region the last few days.

Um, okay. I step to the side and let him in before he freezes to death.

Thank you. You have no idea how desperate I am. He emphasizes the word desperate by briefly turning his head toward the sky, as though even the universe has let him down.

Um, no. And I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.

Oh! Of course, you don’t, because I’ve been too fucking busy to be a good neighbor and introduce myself. I’ve had this huge project at work, huge— he throws out his arms and shows me just how big "—and no matter what we did, we couldn’t make the client happy. They made us re-work the entire concept from scratch five fucking times. And if that wasn’t enough, my sister sprung this whole ‘we’re doing Christmas at your house this year because Mom broke her leg’ thing on me, and I hadn’t had the time to unpack all the boxes since moving in, so I had to stay up late to do that and be back early at the office, and gawd, I have no idea the last time I slept an entire night."

His words are an ocean wave crashing over me and I blink as though I’ve gotten water in my eyes. With a smile, I hold up a hand to halt the outburst. Please breathe. I don’t want you to pass out due to oxygen deprivation.

Oh, right. His cheeks pinken, as though he’s embarrassed over his rant, but he smiles back at me, the left corner of his mouth pulling up a little more than the right, and the gold in his eyes sparkles. I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants to stop myself from laying them across my forehead and swooning like an old-fashioned maiden.

What’s wrong with me? I don’t swoon. I don’t notice guys’ eyes. But there’s something different about him, something—

My sister says I have a motor mouth, he continues. "You should probably know that