A Taste for Kandy: Frosty's Snowmen, #3

By Rhian Cahill

Parker Jones has never tasted anything as sweet—or addictive—as Kandy Cane.

 

Christmas, the happiest time of the year. Except this year. This year Kandy can't shake the sadness that stabs through her every time she sees her closest friends with the women they love. That pain leads her to make a decision that could ruin a lifelong friendship and have life changing consequences.

 

Parker fell for Kandy when his was fifteen. Having her undivided attention is a Christmas wish come true and he knows he needs to work quickly to get into her heart the way she's in his. But Kandy has a secret. One that could change both their lives forever.

 

Love can't be forced but Kandy soon realizes it can be hiding right in front of you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rhian Cahill
• Release date: Nov 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781925375541

Rhian Cahill

Rhian Cahill is the alter ego of a former stay-at-home mother of four. With motherly duties rapidly dwindling Rhian is able to make use of the fertile imagination she used to keep herself sane for all those years of slavery. Having spent some years living overseas and visiting tropical climates has helped inspire some steamy stories. Multi-published in erotic romance and contemporary romance, Rhian, with the help of Mr. Muse, spends her days and nights writing. When not glued to the keyboard you'll find her book or knitting in hand avoiding any and all housework as much as possible.   To find out more, visit Rhian on her website and subscribe to her newsletter.  You can also follow Rhian on Facebook ,Instagram and Twitter. 

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Kandy

Ihold the two scallywags by the scruff of their shirts and try not to laugh. I shouldn’t find the situation funny, but I dare anyone not to laugh.

The identical rascals in my grip decided it would be fun to drop a pile of snow down the pants of one of my elves. Unfortunately they chose a spritely eighty-two-year-old with a mouth worse than a trucker and is currently putting the Olympic gymnastic team to shame.

The elf also happens to be my grandmother.

Shoving my laughter down, I pitch my voice in a manner designed not to draw any one’s attention but my gran’s, even though the woman is doing her best to draw every eye in the Village her way. Grammy!

It is a testament to Grammy that she shoots upright, eyes wide and scans the area to find the trouble. In seconds, my grandmother registers our surroundings and panic flares in her gaze before she does what Grammy always does, and smiles.

The two little boys stop trying to wiggle out of my hold and stare at the tiny woman in front of us. Mesmerized, they gaze at Grammy in stunned silence, reminding me of my own childhood, where the woman could—and did—hold me enthralled with only a smile.

Joshua. Jason. What have you done now?

I turn to find a frazzled woman, baby strapped to her chest, rushing toward us.

You promised to behave. The woman breathes hard. I left you alone for two minutes while I changed your brother’s diaper and you vanish. Poof. Thin air. Gone. Her voice wobbles on the last word and her anxious gaze searches the boys from head to toe and back.

It isn’t the first time I’ve seen that face—the flash of fear in a parent’s eyes, the terrifying possibilities flickering like a marathon of horror movies.

They’re fine, I reassure her with a smile as I move my hand to cup the back of each beanie-covered head. We were waiting for you so they could ask if they could go to Santa’s workshop and help the elves make toys, I fib.

I shouldn’t lie in front of the kids, but I can’t stomach seeing this woman suffer any more distress. Obviously, she is struggling to keep the older children within reach and I can tell the boys beside me are mischievous. One look at the pair and you just know they are trouble with a capital T.

C’mon boys. Grammy holds out both hands. Let’s go see what Santa and the elves are building today.

It’s okay, I—

You too, Mum, Grammy says with a smile. I’m pretty sure Mrs Claus has a pot of tea on.

Oh. The woman’s shoulders sag, a heavy sigh rushing through her lips. A cup of tea would be wonderful.

Well, what are we waiting for? Grammy winks at me. I could do with a break myself and these two hellions need something to corral some of their enthusiasm.

I can’t help grinning as Grammy leads the little troupe away. As they disappear inside Santa’s workshop I turn away, Elle and Jack catching my eye. The smile on my face freezes.

They are standing off to the side of Santa’s house, near the barn where Santa houses his reindeer. Elle leans into Jack, his hand lovingly caressing the rounded curve of her belly as he speaks in her ear.

I don’t want to feel pain when I look at my childhood friend and his wife. Don’t want to have envy—sorrow—slice through me, but it does. It cuts deep. Stabbing right through the middle of my heart.

I want that.

A family.

Someone to love me and our family unconditionally.

I feel like an ungrateful bitch whenever these hateful emotions take over because I have a family. A large loving one with a multitude of extended members, blood and not, except…it isn’t enough.

I want my own, children with a mixture of features from me and the man I love.

And there in lies the problem.

I don’t have a man to love—who loves me.

I want so badly what Jack and Elle have, what Chris has found with Leah.

At thirty-six, it feels like I’m in jeopardy of never finding it. That fear brutally impaled me last month when Jack and Elle announced their impending arrival. Then came the realization that Christmas, and my birthday, are right around the