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    Out For The Holidays
    Out For The Holidays
    Out For The Holidays
    Ebook62 pages51 minutes

    Out For The Holidays

    By Susan Mac Nicol

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Being in love is tough enough at eighteen, but being in love and outed to your dad is a disaster that will take more than a little holiday magic to fix.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBoroughs Publishing Group
    Release dateDec 4, 2014
    ISBN9781941260753
    Out For The Holidays
    Author

    Susan Mac Nicol

    'The Official Stuff' Susan writes steamy, sexy, and fun contemporary romance stories, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark, and she hopes, always entertaining. She’s also Editor-in-Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a member of The Society of Authors, the Writers Guild of Great Britain, and the Authors Guild in the US. Susan is also an award-winning screenplay writer, with scripts based on two of her own published works. Sight Unseen has garnered no less than five awards to date, and her TV pilot, Reel Life, based on her debut novel, Cassandra by Starlight, was also a winner at the Oaxaca Film Fest.. 'The Unofficial Stuff' Susan loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man-crush Adam Lambert), walks in the countryside, a good G and T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness. Her chequered past includes stories like being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a bad influence (she encouraged free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard. Connect with Susan: website: authorsusanmacnicol.com facebook: Author-Susan-Mac-Nicol twitter: SusanMacNicol7 instagram: susiemax77 linkedin: susanmacnicol

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      Book preview

      Out For The Holidays - Susan Mac Nicol

      OUT FOR THE HOLIDAYS

      Susan Mac Nicol

      www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

      PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

      OUT FOR THE HOLIDAYS

      Copyright © 2014 Susan Elaine Mac Nicol

      Smashwords Edition

      All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

      ISBN 978-1-941260-75-3

      This book is dedicated to all those wonderful readers and fans who support me, pimp me out and generally spread the word. In the sea of activity on social networks promoting new releases and their authors, this can be a tough and sometimes thankless task. I’d like you know just how much I appreciate everything you do.

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      There are two very special ladies who deserve a mention: Valerie de George and Janice Birnie. You ladies are the rock-and-rollers of my life out there, and you do a phenomenal job on my behalf. Thank you so very much!

      CONTENTS

      Out for the Holidays

      Author's Note

      About the Author

      Out for the Holidays

      I’d never considered myself to be much of an arsehole before. Sure, I’ve had my moments—moments of what I think are witticism but other people think of as rudeness, moments of snarkiness and bitchiness that occasionally make those other people laugh. But seeing Lucas Crewe’s shocked, pale face, all wide eyes and trembling lips, made me realise that I had indeed just earned, without reservation, the honorary title of Arsehole of the Year. Of the Decade probably.

      I clamped my lips together lest I give voice to anything else and cause a worse reaction than the shock and betrayal currently reflected on my boyfriend’s face. My hands trembled, and I clenched them into fists as I stood behind the counter of the bookshop in which I worked as office manager.

      Christian Montfort the Third, the shop owner, my older brother and my boss, cleared his throat loudly in apparent discomfort that such emotional outbreaks were taking place in his revered old-world establishment in the middle of the high street in Glastonbury. The faint strains of the Carmina Burana, the shop’s alternative to the cheesy Christmas music that currently floods the other high street shops, broke the uncomfortable stillness.

      My brother waved a chubby hand in my direction. Samuel, I think you need to take a break. Sophie can cover for you on the counter. I think you need to have a cup of chamomile tea and calm down. I’ll deal with this.

      His eyes told me not to fuck with him. While he might look like a sweet and cuddly doughboy, I knew better than to argue. Christian had a rod of a steel in his spine and a firm hand, and he wasn’t averse to using either one of them—one metaphorically, the other literally. Especially when I’d been such a mega arsehole.

      Arsehole. The word was fast becoming my least favourite of the week.

      I nodded. Happy Fucking Christmas to me.

      Christian’s frown deepened. He raised an eyebrow and I turned, going into the back room which we used as both an office and a staff room. I had just irrevocably fucked things up without any hope of redemption.

      My gut lurched with self hatred as I again recalled Lucas’s stricken face. I sank into an old armchair in the corner, trying to ignore the clamouring in my skull. In the distance, St. Michael’s Tower stood high on the Tor, and I wished and prayed that whatever magic resided there would find me and allow me to take back the words I’d just inadvertently spat out. He didn’t deserve the fallout; not my tender, loving and beautiful Lucas.

      In the

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