Please welcome Sue Brown with
Last Place In The Chalet
Happy Festive season to you, whatever you celebrate.
I’m not exactly ready for Christmas (at the time I’m writing this there is a week to go and so far, I’ve bought the pudding), but I have hopes I’ll get it together by Christmas. There’s nothing like a looming deadline and a houseful of guests to focus the mind.
My dog, Faith, is always bewildered by Christmas. First, I tidy and clean the house. There are only two reasons cleaning happens. First when there are human guests coming or I’m going to be leaving her for a few days. Neither happens very often so Faith gives me a suspicious side-eye from her perch on the sofa, until she knows which one it’s going to be. She loves guests. She doesn’t like absent mum.
I did manage to get the Christmas decorations up before Christmas Eve. Go Sue! Go Sue! I’m sitting here watching my reindeer twinkle at me as I work.
How do you spend Christmas Day? Ours is spent eating, drinking, and watching bad movies. It’s pretty much my ideal day. This year I get to do the cooking but my son, who is a fantastic cook, has promised to help. I hope he does the cooking and I’ll be his help. Sadly London never gets a white Christmas and the weather forecast doesn’t give me any hope.
What’s my news apart from my failure at Christmas preparation?
How did 2019 go for you? It’s not been an easy year for me and it’s harsh at the moment, but I’m always optimistic things will improve.
Now we’re at the end of the year I’m slowly getting books out; Slow Dating the Detective, Last Place in the Chalet, and Alpha Home. 2018 and 2019 were years of writing, but not much finishing. There is nothing more satisfying than writing ‘The End’. Having a lot of half-finished stories is so frustrating. My goal for 2020 is to finish at least five of these stories. I might even get next year’s Christmas story written early again.
2020 is promising to be a year of change for me. It’s nothing I can disclose at the moment but I’m quietly excited. Quietly excited. Isn’t that such a Brit thing to say? I should be talking cheerleading, not sitting in a corner with a latte.
2020 is going to be GREAT! There, less Brit, more excited author.
I’m going to be cheeky and ask you for a Christmas present this year. I’d be really grateful if you could follow me on Bookbub. I have to reach a certain number of followers before I can do basic things like notify you of a new release.
For those of you who like a cocktail at Christmas, I attach a suggestion from the chalet’s host, Charlie. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a wonderful New Year.
About the book:
Noel Garrett leaves for his Christmas vacation with an engagement ring in his pocket. But he boards the plane alone and with a broken heart when his boyfriend dumps him in the airport.
His seatmate, Angel Marinelli, takes care of him with gentle determination… whether Noel wants it or not, and Noel doesn't expect to see Angel again. But when an overbooking leaves Angel without a room and Noel is asked to host him, one night turns into the whole vacation and they settle into the chalet and mix with an eclectic group of guests, including the Wise Guys and a pregnant woman.
As they ski and spend every moment together, Noel finds himself falling for Angel, and though his feelings are returned, Noel worries it’s just a rebound romance. It’ll mean taking a leap of faith, but Noel has to make a decision before he hurts Angel, and Christmas is fast approaching.
“It’s so cold.”
Even Noel could hear Angel’s teeth chattering as they scurried around the porch to the hot tub, slipping and sliding on the decking.
“This was your idea,” Noel pointed out, trying hard to keep his own teeth under control. He was dressed like Angel, in swimming trunks and the soft white robe the lodge provided. His balls felt like they were about to climb up inside his body, it was that cold.
Behind him, Noel grinned. Angel was all kinds of cute when he was grouchy.
When they reached the hot tub, Angel lifted the lid and sighed. “This looks wonderful.”
It did, but there was something Noel wasn’t looking forward to. “But first we have to take off our robes.”
“Last one in is a frozen cod,” Angel called out, flinging his robe onto an Adirondack chair and exposing swim shorts with a startling flamingo pattern and miles of creamy skin.
Noel rolled his eyes. “A frozen cod?”
“It was all I could think of,” Angel confessed as he sank into the hot water. “This is so good.”
His words trailed off into a little moan that did things to Noel’s insides. Noel hurriedly climbed into the hot tub and emitted his own noise of appreciation.
The hot tub was situated facing the trees, and in the background, a line of mountains. It would have been beautiful in the summer. Now it was postcard pretty, with white-capped mountains and trees laden with the snow from the previous night. The sky was bright blue, and everything was sharp colors and sparkling sunlight. Noel didn’t count himself as a poetic man, but if he were, he would have written a sonnet or something about the view.
“What are you thinking about?” Angel asked. “You’ve got an odd smile.”
“Poetry,” Noel admitted, color staining his cheeks, more because Angel noticed him than from what he was thinking about.
Angel’s eyes went comically wide. “You write poetry?”
“No,” Noel admitted, “but if I did, I could write poems about the view.”
“It is beautiful,” Angel agreed, looking out at the mountains. He gave a contented sigh which made Noel want to hug him. Then he felt guilty for even thinking about Angel like that so soon after Adam. Noel closed his eyes to shut out any temptation and focused on the bliss of the hot water relaxing his tired muscles. He’d held himself so tightly since Adam walked away from him that he ached from the tension. Perhaps he could stay in the hot tub for the entire vacation.
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About the author:
Cranky middle-aged author with an addiction for coffee, and a passion for romancing two guys. She loves her dog, she loves kids, and she loves coffee; in which order very much depends on the time of day.
Promotional post. Materials provided by the author.