Showing posts with label Make a Wish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Make a Wish. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 1, 2021

Behind the Title with #gay #holiday #romance Make a Wish. Read a #teaser from the passage that gives the story its title. #MMromance #Christmas #magic @evernightpub @parr_books

 


It’s the day before Christmas Eve and gorgeous, happy, Nick Kringle is making deliveries on the main street of the city when a car breaks down at the intersection.

Amid the seasonal crowds and inclement weather, Dylan West gets out of his car and tries to push it to the side of the road.

Nick rushes to help him and comes face to face with the most delicious man he’s ever seen.

Dylan’s down on his luck, but Nick believes in magic.

Can wishes come true? You bet—especially if Nick Kringle has anything to do with it.

Read the passage that gives the story its title

Dylan drank his coffee and wandered around his apartment. He tidied everything. He took the card his mom had sent him and put it on his desk, a lonely sentinel of the season standing by his laptop. His parents lived so far away that they didn’t visit each other often and anyway, they generally took a vacation in warmer climes for Christmas and New Year. He showered and dressed in jeans, sweater, and his favorite old leather jacket. He looked around with a sigh. So much for Berry Brown letting me know early today about my interview. Guess I’ll go check on my car.

He left the apartment. The sun shone from a washed-out, blue sky. Frost glistened on the ground. Dylan’s breath misted in the crisp air. He hailed a cab at the end of the block. The kiosk served as a landmark for Dylan as he told the driver where to drop him, but his car was gone.

He recalled Nick’s words. ‘The city might tow it,’ and his own reply, ‘I wish they would.’ Maybe it’s in the city compound. Dylan shrugged. He went around the kiosk and looked along the magazines. Once upon a time Dylan loved to draw. His high school teachers praised his work. He visited all the galleries and hung out at exhibitions, drinking in the creative atmosphere with enjoyment. His teachers expected him to and he had considered studying art, but settled on business because it seemed more likely he’d find work with that bachelor degree. It pleased his dad, whose finance career made sure the family lived well. Dylan picked up a copy of Wallpaper and then Art in America. He paid for the magazines.

A coffee shop beckoned as someone opened the door and the inviting aroma of rich beans wafted onto the street. Dylan went in. He took a window seat and ordered Italian roast when the smiling server came to his table. A huge Christmas tree filled a corner of the café area and Dylan gazed at it for a few moments. The tinsel and baubles made a pretty, sparkling sight lit with circles of white fairy lights. He opened the copy of Wallpaper and turned the pages perusing the articles, until, to his surprise, a silver, 3D, page-size star popped up.

A smile sprang onto his face. A star. Make a wish, Dylan. It glittered at him. I wish for Nick. I want us to be lovers, friends, for as long as possible. I wish for him to fall in love with me. Is that more than one wish, yeah, but who knows, maybe one will come true?

His cell phone buzzed in his leather jacket pocket. Dylan fished it out. A message alert flashed on the screen. Dylan swiped the screen to check the message. Berry Brown. Regret to inform you have been unsuccessful this time. He stared at the message. It struck him as rude, letting an interviewee know by text, but then again, he’d received similar brush-offs.

The server arrived with his order and a complimentary chocolate for the season. Dylan smiled his thanks. The café’s warmth relaxed him. He took off his jacket and sipped at his coffee as he looked through his magazines. With every page turned, Dylan grew happier. He didn’t own any art materials now, but he wanted some. He remembered that the mall a few streets away housed a great art supply shop. Dylan experienced a surge of longing to go there and buy the things he’d need to start drawing again. He unwrapped the chocolate and bit into it. The lemon cream zinged on his taste buds. He drank the last mouthful of his coffee. He picked up the star and secured it in the magazine. I don’t want to lose that. In a split second, everything was brighter, lighter, and happier. He paid for his coffee and pulled on his jacket.

Copyright E. D. Parr, Evernight Publishing 

https://www.bookstrand.com/make-a-wish-mm

https://www.evernightpublishing.com/make-a-wish-by-e-d-parr/

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/make-a-wish-e-d-parr/1125370385

https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/make-a-wish-7

Amazon http://mybook.to/MakeaWish





Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Make a Wish for #midweek #tease #MMromance with a sparkle of magic #gayromance @evernightpub @parr_books


It’s the day before Christmas Eve and Nick Kringle is making deliveries on the main street of the city when a car breaks down at the intersection. He rushes to help him and comes face to face with the most delicious man he’s ever seen.

Amid the seasonal crowds and inclement weather, Dylan West gets out of his stalled car and tries to push it to the side of the road. Dylan’s down on his luck, but his hero Nick believes in magic and decides to throw a little Dylan’s way.

Can wishes come true? You bet—especially if Nick Kringle has anything to do with it.


Take care18+ teaser

Dylan’s heart gave a giant thump and then raced as Nick’s eyes locked with his.
Dylan couldn’t look away. Nick gazed at him with unconcealed interest. A ripple of happiness went over Dylan. Nick said something to the hostess and left her. He walked toward Dylan purposefully, his muscled body radiating sex. Dylan’s stomach muscles instantly tightened, and his cock jerked.
Nick stopped just about toe to toe with Dylan.
“Hi. What happened to your car?” His pupils widened, darkening his ice-blue eyes.
Dylan soaked up the sight. He is attracted to me. “I left it by the roadside until the morning. I couldn’t face standing in the cold waiting for a tow truck.”
Nick’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You might find it gone tomorrow. It might get towed by the city.”
Dylan shrugged. “The way I feel right now, I wish it would.”
“What else do you wish for, Dylan?” Nick’s voice was low and sexy.
The question, combined with the scorching look Nick gave him, sent a shock of tingling desire all the way through Dylan’s body. He knew right then they’d connect sexually for sure, sooner or later. He hoped it would be sooner. The words that formed in his mind weren’t to be spoken—hot sex, your cock, your ice-blue eyes gazing on me and your hard body rammed against mine, fucking hell—you…
Nick’s expression grew tender. “You know you’re standing under a huge bunch of mistletoe?”
Dylan’s entire body tensed as a wave of desire burned over him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Nick’s mouth. The way Nick moved even closer to him captured him in a web of attraction. Unbidden, a sigh of pleasure escaped him.
Nick trapped him, placing a hand on the wall over Dylan’s shoulder as he leaned in. He murmured as he closed the gap between their faces, “Hey, I think you’re gorgeous. Don’t be afraid. I want your kiss. I want to kiss you.”
Nick’s lips touched Dylan’s, soft, tender, searching.
Dylan’s breath left him. His sexual hunger surged and he pushed his arms around Nick’s neck, pulling him close to kiss him hard, and then linger in a shower of kisses—kiss after kiss, until his cock strained against his jeans and his ass clenched.
Nick drew away to look into Dylan’s eyes. “Fucking hell, I want you badly. Is there somewhere we can go?”
Dylan couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t resist. If he only got this night he’d take it. He needed this delicious man’s hands all over him. Lust reduced him to mush. 

©E.D. Parr, Evernight Publishing
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Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Tuesday #teaser gives you a chapter of #MMromance 'Make a Wish' What happened to Dylan that makes it so great Nick falls for him #gayromance


Chapter One

Sweat coated his back as Dylan ran through the park. The dull thud of his footsteps echoed in the pedestrian tunnel as he used it to cross under the main street. His lightweight running shoes cushioned his feet on the concrete, but he was gasping for breath as he ascended the ramp to the sidewalk, and it felt as if the shoes were made of lead. His T-shirt stuck to him and when he rounded the corner to make his way back to his apartment, the freezing morning breeze chilled him. Dylan slowed his pace as he approached the building where he lived. Too winded to speak, Dylan passed the doorman giving him a nod and raised hand in greeting.
He used to take the stairs to his apartment. Today, as with every other day since he returned from hospital, he went into the elevator car and leaned against the wall. As he began to breathe easier, Dylan considered his fitness level. His doctor had told him weeks ago he was trying to take things too fast, but gripped by determination, Dylan started an exercise regime to push himself back to ‘normal.’ ‘Normal’ being a fit, healthy, thirty-year-old man who hadn’t been shot in the lower shoulder and then come down with pneumonia brought on, the doc said, by not taking it easy when he’d caught the influenza doing the rounds that season. Dylan looked back on the last ten months with acrimony. Considering how fit he’d been before the incident, he could hardly believe how long the whole healing process took.
He stepped out of the elevator on the fifth floor and fished in his track pants pocket for his apartment keys. Inside, he passed the hall table, but did a double take—the usually silent and still answering machine handset was blinking. For someone to call his landline was unusual these days. Have I missed a call on my cell? Maybe it’s an interview. He needed work. His savings were almost gone. He dragged off his shoes and socks, leaving them on the floor as he avoided checking the message until he’d had a shower, and headed along the hall. It’s probably another company telling me I was unsuccessful. There’d been a number of those communications. I’ve become pessimistic. He pushed away the knowledge that he still wasn’t emotionally over the shooting.
Dylan stripped off his T-shirt as he walked through his apartment to the small laundry room, next to his kitchen. He dropped the T-shirt straight into the washing machine that stood with the lid open in one corner. Dylan ducked past the dryer that he’d secured to the wall, and opened the air-con grill to retrieve his laptop, and then he secured the air-con grill into the cavity again. He always hid stuff when he left the apartment. It was a habit from when there’d been a burglary a few years before.
Dylan put his laptop on his desk as he passed it on his way to the bedroom. He paused long enough to drop his apartment keys and cell phone on there from inside his pants pocket. In his bedroom, he pulled off the track pants and his boxers, and left them on the bed. He headed for the shower and the oblivion of being under the welcome warm sprinkles. He’d installed a rain showerhead when he’d first moved in, and he loved it. He stood with his face upturned to the spray as he thrust away the question of who’d called that nagged him. He could get no peace and so he rapidly lathered shower gel all over, including his hair, rinsed, and turned off the faucets with resignation.
He pulled a towel from the stack he kept on an whitewood shelf next to the shower stall to quickly rub the water from his hair, and then he wrapped it around his waist. The blinking light on his answering machine beckoned him. He had to know who’d called. Dylan dreaded it was a rejection and hoped it would be an interview. He padded down the hall, leaving wet footprints on the parquet.
He’d given up applying for jobs that were in his recent work field of import and export. He’d never had to worry about work before and faced with rejection upon rejection, he realized something was wrong.
His wardrobe wasn’t up to looking as businesslike as many companies appeared to need from their prospective employees. He always wore jeans or chinos, and casual shirts in the company he and his best friend used to operate. His outerwear consisted of a well-worn leather jacket and a black blazer. His need to wear a suit had him buying a cheap, off the rack item that might present him in a better light at interviews.
Dylan approached the answering machine and pressed the button to listen to the message.
“Hi, Mr. West, Rachel Carter here—I’m calling to arrange a meeting with you. You applied for the job in security. We can see you tomorrow at five-thirty. Please come to the human resources department.” She ended the call with no further information. If Dylan had applied for other work in the last week, he might not have recognized he’d won an interview for the vacancy at Berry Brown department store. He sighed. I need the work. Any work will do to get me back out there. I need a stroke of luck.
Dylan pulled the towel from around his waist and wiped the moisture from his shoulders. He stared at the answering machine as he considered the message and dried his legs. Then he threw the towel over his shoulder and returned to his bedroom. He rifled through his closet looking for clean clothes.
Why have I put worn shirts back on hangers and where’s my clean underwear?
Dylan stood back and surveyed his closet. It wasn’t large, but it was walk-in, and he turned around in the narrow space to grab old, faded jeans from the shelf, and a T-shirt he knew had to be clean because he hadn’t worn it since before his best friend shot him.
Filled with a sudden and inexplicable energy, Dylan gathered up all the dirty clothes and dashed to the laundry. He went back and picked up his socks from the hall and his underwear from his bedroom to stuff into the tub. With a load of laundry swishing in the washing machine, Dylan went to his kitchen and put coffee on to percolate. I might get this job. I’ll wear the suit. I’ll be cheerful. It’s almost Christmas. It would be great to know that I had a job to go to after the seasonal holiday. I’ll get this job—yes. Dylan psyched himself up.

Dylan’s gaze fell on the card pulled halfway out of the scarlet-colored envelope that lay on the counter top. His mom always sent him a card and she always alluded to his single status. He succumbed to a twinge of sadness. It had been a long time since there’d been a man in his life. Sometimes in the long nights, when he lay awake, Dylan would wonder why he’d never met someone who loved him—who fell in love with him. If he had a Christmas wish, it would be to meet a kind, sexy man. He gazed out of the kitchen window at the leaden sky. He’d never had a wish come true, so it was unlikely that one would. Dylan poured coffee. The warmth from the cup and the delicious smell comforted him.
Copyright E.D.Parr 2017 Evernight Publishing All rights reserved 

~~~~~Gorgeous, happy, Nick Kringle is making deliveries on the main street of the city when a car breaks down at the intersection.
Amid the seasonal crowds and inclement weather, Dylan West gets out of his car and tries to push it to the side of the road.
Nick rushes to help him and comes face to face with the most delicious man he’s ever seen.
Dylan’s down on his luck, but Nick believes in magic.
Can wishes come true? You bet—especially if Nick Kringle has anything to do with it.