And now for a little bit of Blisse. I’m getting really Christmassy now it’s only a week until the big day! So here’s a very festive excerpt from Chirsmtas Cake. A Sweet tale of love discovered later in life with lashings of Christmas cheer!
A collection of sweet,sensual and hot stories from the queen of festivities, Victoria Blisse. A sexy indulgence for you to enjoy this yuletide with all the sights, scents and tastes of Christmas without the calories and hard work. Snuggle up and relax into stories of sleigh rides, snowy interludes and Christmas couplings. A truly festive treat just for you.
Includes Proving Santa Exists, Christmas Cake and Snowed in at School plus two bonus short seasonal tales!
“Oh, Emily,” Jim sighs as I walk into the living room. “I didn’t realise.”
“What, Jim, what is it?” I stop in my tracks, my overnight bag dropping to the floor beside me.
“The shop is so full of Christmas, your mince pies taste of it, your window shines out and shows some real Christmas Spirit, but inside, inside Christmas is dead.” He shakes his head and lets out a shuddering breath. “I used to love Christmas.” I walk to the sofa and sit down, my body collapsing as my well-constructed lie falls down around me. “I really did, it was my favourite time of the year. As a kid we had the best Christmases. My parents weren’t well off, but we always had a wonderful meal and Mum and Dad always made sure I got the toy I most desired.”
Jim sits beside me, his thigh brushing mine.
“Then when I married Greg, the Christmas Spirit still reigned. We never had children of our own but we loved seeing the children as Christmas approached. We would give out free cookies to the kids on Christmas Eve, and I still remember their excited smiles and the thank yous and the happy sound of them crunching on our sweet treats.” I let out a reluctant breath, my eyes fill with tears, and I tangle my fingers together in my lap.
“When Greg died, ten years ago, it was near Christmas. I remember walking home after he passed away, cancer took him from me.” I shake my head as tears fall down my cheeks and Jim touches my arm, comforting me. I can’t look at him, though, I just stare at the wall in front of me. “I walked back to the shop through fairy-lit streets, Christmas trees, snowmen and Santas watching me then I knew…I knew it was all a front. Christmas meant nothing. It couldn’t cure my husband, it couldn’t bring me the child I longed for, it’s just a drain on people’s resources, an excuse to over indulge.” I shrug my shoulders, and Jim wraps an arm around me.
“I didn’t realise you were so alone,” he whispers, squeezing me.
“Oh,” I sniff, looking up for the first time into his soft baby-blue eyes, “I’m not that alone, really. I see people every day, stop and chat with them. It’s not a bad life.”
“Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, eh? Let’s get over to mine and see if we can find that Christmas Spirit of yours, eh?”
“Yeah,” I smile at him, sniffling, “yeah but I warn you, I’ve kept it buried for many years, I don’t think it’s going to be easy to find—I’ve lost all faith in Christmastime.”
“Don’t worry,” he squeezes me to him again, my heart pounding, “I’ve got enough for two.”