California Dreams Christmas Romance Collection: Five heartfelt, steamy later-in-life short stories: California Dreams

INTRODUCTION FROM THE AUTHOR

As I was writing the first volume of forthcoming California Dreams series novelettes, for some reason I kept imagining the characters at Christmastime.

All that daydreaming about a warm, sunny Christmas in California, picturing iconic and imaginary places decked out in surfing-Santa decorations and romantic holiday lights gave me an idea: To write a collection of standalone short stories—sexy, sweet Christmas romances set in the Golden State.

And as soon as I committed to writing the collection, I had one of those a-ha! moments: Several cities in said state have Santa in their name. It was a match that could only be made in . . . well, California.

The characters and the places in the five stories in this collection are different from those in the forthcoming California Dreams novelettes. But just like in the novelettes, each contemporary romance in this short-story collection opens with a sexy dream.

Over the years I’ve come across plenty of writing advice that says authors should never start a story with a dream. This author begs to differ. The dreams were So. Much. Fun. to write, and early readers said they loved reading them. Often, the dreams took twists and turns that surprised me, providing insight into the issues a character was struggling with. The dreams shaped the stories in ways I hadn’t planned.

Speaking of twists and turns, all of the characters in these five stories are over 40, with some closer to the big 5-0. So they’ve been knocked around a bit by life. They might be professionally established and accomplished, but they’ve seen their plans and relationships move in directions they couldn’t control or hadn’t expected or didn’t feel equipped to deal with. That, for me, is the most exciting part of meeting these people on the page—watching how they move forward.

Without spoiling any surprises, you’ll meet a SoCal baker-to-the-rich and famous, the owner of a winery in the rugged Santa Cruz Mountains, a social worker playing Santa at a Santa Barbara nursing home holiday party, a grieving rebel-Santa in a biker jacket, and an aging (but still hot) B-list actor with a penchant for, shall we say, wish fulfillment.

Enemies to lovers, stuck in an elevator (or luxury beachfront vacation rental), second chance, fake relationship, friends to lovers, destined to be together—you’ll find twists on common romance tropes in these pages. And you’ll find a few themes that wove themselves throughout the collection: hope and healing, the willingness to laugh (at humor that’s sometimes dark), the courage to be vulnerable, to try again, and the holiday spirit.

Humor and bravery bring these characters gifts that can’t be wrapped or set under a tree—not only laughter but also forgiveness, self-acceptance, great sex. And, by the way, it’s not only Santa doing the giving. Some of the Santas in these stories have wounds of their own that need help from our heroines to heal.

I hope you enjoy reading these stories and meeting these characters as much as I did writing them!

1

SANTA & ANNA

In the dream, she was skating a wide figure-eight, arms stretched out like wings, gliding free. Cool air rushed past her face; her cashmere scarf fluttered. Blake and the kids waved from the far side of the huge rink, not far from the enormous tree. It might be Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve, but somehow the four of them had the ice to themselves. Thousands of tiny golden lights adorned the skyscraper spruce, glittering like stars in the Manhattan twilight—indigo, fuchsia, and violet, backlighting the winter sk . . .

With a loud metallic crack, the blade of her skate broke clear off, sending her tumbling down to the ice. She spun on her back like a top, careened into the side wall with a thud.

The kids raced over. Blake took his sweet time.

What happened? he asked when he finally reached them.

I fell, she started, but got distracted by the bottom of her bladeless skate, trying to understand what happened. There were no holes, no metal plates, no sign anything had once been attached.

Yeah, I got that much, Anna. Arms crossed, he huffed six feet above her, his lips chapped and dry from the cold. He looked around for the kids, who were safely out of earshot now. Enough with the sarcasm. We’re not married anymore; you don’t have to be a bitch.

And then—thank you, Christmas miracle—he disappeared. A rink security guard skated over and helped her up, dusted her off. The bell on the tip of his floppy green and yellow elf hat jing-a-linged as he moved.

Once she collected herself and got a good look at the man under the hat, she realized it was quite nice watching him in motion. The muscles of his chest and biceps flexed under his tight black sweater. His thick dark hair bounced. Heat stirred in her, somewhere deep and low. The space between them hummed with electricity; the air no longer felt cold. His blue eyes sparkled like a tropical lagoon, and they stayed fixed on her when he asked, Can I take you home?

Only it wasn’t her Costa Mesa townhouse they went to, it was the back room of her bakery, with the order board on the wall, the tall racks of cooling pans, steel counters lined with waiting boxes, Anna’s Bakery of Cookies printed on each lid. He spied the couch in her office, picked her up and carried her over the threshold, asked if he could stay.

She looked into the mirror beside the office door to see if this was real. The reflection was hers alright—brown eyes, roasted chestnut curls, hips whose curves gained extra padding this time of year. He stood behind her, started to unwrap her scarf as if she were a present, pressed his lips to her neck for a single kiss.

Is this okay? he wanted to know.

Yes, she told him, leaning back against his broad chest. The bell on his hat jingled while he kissed his way down her body, until she accidentally knocked it off as she moaned.

Anna woke to her phone jingling on the nightstand—Carli often changed her ringtone as a joke. Sadly, the images in the dream dissipated in the early morning sunlight streaming through the blinds. Blake being an asshole was not far from reality, but that she would finally have amazing sex with a gorgeous, sweet guy? That was about as likely in real life as Santa coming down her chimney. No pun intended. She did not have a romantic prospect to save her life. Or, for that matter, a fireplace.

When she turned over the phone, she discovered the kids had texted from New York. Ben sent her a photo of an amazing department store window display, one of the vignettes of a serious elf-bakery operation. Carli sent a selfie modeling a not-so-appropriate-for-a-sixteen-year-old dress. Blake’s thumb cut into the corner of the photo, right by the exorbitant price tag. He had probably turned it around to make sure Anna would see it. It wasn’t paranoia on her part; that was his MO.

Fine. Let him try to earn the kids’ respect by buying them expensive stuff. She would not get aggravated over him. As she kept reminding herself since he picked Carli up last week to visit Ben at NYU, he was giving the kids a nice winter vacation, doing Christmas in New York. A picture-perfect, postcard-ready Christmas in Manhattan with his pretty, young new wife—new referring strictly to the recency of the wedding itself, not how long they had been screwing behind Anna’s back.

After a plateful of scrambled eggs, she