Beth Adams expected a proposal of marriage on Christmas Eve. What she gets is a wanna-be Santa Claus who's just gotten pink-slipped. Dominic Claus isn't merely good looking, he's perfect... he's just not Santa material.
Beth couldn't care less, especially once she discovers Dom is a lot more than a good looking guy in a Santa suit -- he's the lover of her dreams, toys included. Unfortunately, he actually thinks he's an Elf.
Differences aside, Beth discovers all it takes is Just a Little Magic to find true love.
Publisher's Note: Just A Little Magic was previously available in an anthology at another house that has since gone dark.
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Just a Little Magic
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2017 Kate Douglas
A loud clatter followed the thumps. A bang, what sounded suspiciously like a curse, then another thump.
Steve! Damn him... The idiot must think that if he installed the stupid satellite dish, he'd get back in her good graces. And her bed.
"Fat chance, you bastard." Beth jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe and slippers. Thank goodness she'd finally seen the light. Stephanie and Margaret had been telling her what a jerk Steve was, but she just hadn't been able to see it.
"Well, my eyes are wide open tonight, kiddo."
Like an avenging angel, Beth stormed out the front door. How odd. There was no ladder in sight. She heard it again. A thump and a muffled curse. "Steve, get off my roof. I told you, I do not want a satellite dish."
"Huh? Wha..." A startled shout, another curse. Suddenly a body slid over the edge of the roof, past the rain gutters, missed Beth by mere inches and landed in the snowdrift beside the front porch.
Not Steve. Definitely not Steve. Caught in the glow of the porch light, the figure was dressed all in red and buried face first in the snow. Cautiously, Beth leaned over to see if he was all right.
The figure moaned, grunted, said, "Aw, fuck," in a soft, dejected voice, and Beth heard a loud sigh. After a moment, he turned himself right side up and shook his head.
White hair, a long white beard... red suit and black boots. It had to be...
Nah. No way.
"I don't think so." Beth crossed her arms over her large breasts, suddenly feeling nearly naked and a whole lot vulnerable, standing in her front yard in her robe, talking to a strange man. A very strange man. "Who the hell are you?"
"I was supposed to be the new Kris Kringle, but they pink slipped me." He sighed, then held up his right hand. Without thinking, Beth reached out and helped pull him to his feet. Just as quickly, she dropped his hand and rubbed hers against her thigh. Even beneath the black leather gloves he wore, his grip was warm and alive. She felt a shiver race from her fingertips to the spot where she suddenly remembered the little remote control egg was waiting for instructions.
Her vaginal muscles tightened involuntarily around the egg. Beth grabbed the porch railing for support.
Obviously favoring his right ankle, the man still towered over her, no great feat since she was barely over five feet tall. Beth fought the impulse to step back. "I'm still waiting to know who you are and what you were doing on my roof."
She thought of tapping her foot, realized her toes were numb from the cold, and stepped up on the porch. At least now she was closer to eye level with the man.
He grabbed the railing, as if for support. She wondered just how badly he'd hurt himself in his tumble from the roof.
"I'm Dominic. Dominic Claus." He reached up and swept the red hat off his head, taking the heavy white wig with it. The fake beard joined the wig. The two pieces dangled like dead white rabbits from his left hand. Beth shuddered and took another step back.
With his overly long coal-black hair and clean-shaven face, Nick Whoever-he-was suddenly looked a lot more threatening... and terribly appealing.