Santas ‘R Us – RAC

Do you love reading MM Romance? Are you in the Christmas spirit?

Creative layout frame made of Christmas tree branches, pine cones, gifts on dark background. Xmas and New Year theme., snow. Flat lay, top view, space for text

From the 1st – 24th of December authors of GLBT+ fiction will be opening a door to a selection of festive stories to while away the winter days and get you in the Christmas spirit.

Find stories from your favourite writers and discover some new ones along the way.
A small gift from us to you for all your support in 2022.
Find the MASTER LIST with all the stories HERE.
You can also join our Facebook group to get notifications and spread the festive fun.

And PLEASE let the authors know if you enjoy their stories!

SANTAS ‘R US – a short story

Bren thinks he’s delivering a sexy Santa experience. Silas just wants some extra baking sugar. Cross-purposes galore!

I stood on the well-polished steps of the four-storey house for a couple of long moments, trying to plan my opening lines. Swaying my hips a bit; humming the opening bars of Hot Stuff. Then I noticed a cat sitting in the living room window next door, still as a statue, its gaze fixed on me with either feline amazement or disgust. So, I stopped rehearsing, tugged my tunic down more firmly and rang the bell.
When the door was abruptly thrown open, even before the chimes had finished, I nearly fell back down the steps in surprise.
“Thank God you’re here!” cried a young man. He was shorter than me, slimmer, with a shock of dark hair, and very pretty eyes. Dressed in tight white jeans and a bright blue polo shirt—have to say, the combo really suited him—and… yes… flour across his nose and cheeks.
“Come in! Come in,” he cried, turning and darting ahead of me into the house. He had flour on the back of his shirt, too. Maybe even on his arse—oh, and what a really lovely arse—but I couldn’t see clearly on the white denim, and I didn’t want to stare like a perv.
Huh. I’d got a few enthusiastic responses in my time, but mainly from over-excited kids in the mall with sticky hands and exhausted parents, so this was unusual. I took my time wiping my boots at the door.
“You’re earlier than I expected,” came his cheery voice from somewhere farther up the hall. His head popped around an open doorway at the end and he beckoned to me. “Come into the kitchen, will you? You can bring all the stuff here.”
Stuff? That would just be… me?

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