“Oh my goodness,” I breathed, feeling raw and terrified and thrilled and excited … because I wanted and needed him too. So much. It was overwhelming.
“Will you do me the absolute honor of marrying me, Evan Munro?”
Some people would call us crazy.
Impulsive.
I didn’t care.
I grinned, nodding, as I threw myself at him, almost taking him to his arse. Reid gave a bark of surprised laughter and caught me. His arms bound so tight around me.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes!” I reared back my head to yell, “Yes, yes, yes!”
He kissed me, hard, possessive, and it was inappropriate in front of our families, but I didn’t care. And as he did this, he fumbled for my hand, blindly sliding the engagement ring on my finger. I broke the kiss to stare down at it, disbelieving this was real.
“Happy Christmas, Ev,” he murmured huskily in my ear.
My gaze moved from the ring to his face. “Best one ever.”
He grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but the words were cut off as our mothers fell upon us in joy.
“It’s finally happening!”
“Let me see the ring.”
“Oh my God, it’s beautiful!”
“You should get married next Christmas.”
“A Christmas wedding would be stunning.”
“A sleigh! She could arrive on a sleigh!”
“Oh heaven! And we could have a Christmas choir singing her up the aisle.”
“And we—”
“Enough!” Patrick yelled.
A deafening silence fell over the room and my heart sank.
Patrick glared at Reid.
Oh boy.
But then a smirk curled the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t have to propose to convince me. Marriage is life, mate. She’s cute but have you really thought this through?”
I reached past Dad for the large cushion on his armchair and chucked it at my brother.
He laughed, blocking it with his hands.
Relaxing, Reid stood up and looked between Dad and Patrick. “I have your blessing then?”
Dad mock scowled. “Think you’re supposed to ask that before you ask the bride.”
“Och, Harold, that’s not how it’s done now,” Mum said. “Stop teasing the poor boy.”
I snorted at Mum calling Reid a boy.
Patrick grinned. “Aw, are we teasing you, wee man?”
Reid rolled his eyes. “I take it that means I have your blessing?”
My big brother looked at me, his gaze softening. “If you make Evan happy, that’s all I care about.”
“You’ll be my best man, then?”
“Who the fuck else would be?”
Assured all was well with the guys, Mum and Annie crowded me, bombarding me with wedding plans already. My ears were ringing. I felt a little faint.
“We’re just excited,” Annie replied.
“And I’m glad. But let Ev get used to the idea of being engaged before you shove Christmas wedding plans down her throat. There will be no Christmas wedding.”
“There won’t?” I asked.
Reid stared down at me. “I don’t want to wait a year. Do you?”
My heart. Honestly, I couldn’t withstand another romantic word out of his mouth or I’d expire on the spot. “No. I don’t want to wait.”
“Oh, but—”
“You heard them,” Dad interrupted Mum, taking her by the shoulders and physically steering her toward the door. “Now let’s go make the breakfast. I’m sure everybody needs sustenance after all the excitement.”
Annie trailed at the back of Mum still discussing wedding plans.
Reid pulled me in tight to his side and kissed the side of my temple. “Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate your dad?”
“He is wonderful.” I covered Reid’s chest, his heart, with my hand. The engagement ring sparkled in the light. “And so are you.”
“Best Christmas ever,” Reid murmured, eyes hot with love and desire.
“Best Christmas ever,” I agreed. “Can’t wait to celebrate on our own tonight.”
“Oh dear God.” Patrick groaned, reminding us he was still there. “I’m in pain. Physical pain. New rule.” He wagged his finger at us. “When I’m in the room, we will all pretend that yours is a spiritual union in name only.”
Reid shook with laughter at my side. “Really?”
“I will end you,” Patrick warned. “If you break this rule, I will end you.”
Chuckling, I teased, “What if I break the rule? I mean, technically, I was the one who just reminded you that your best friend is bonking your wee sister.”
Patrick cut me a wounded look. “Too soon, Ev. Too. Damn. Soon.”
“Aw fine, fine.” I hurried toward my brother to give him a reassuring cuddle. “I’m a nun and Reid is happy to spend a long, sexless life with me. Okay, sweetie, that better?” I patted his back.
“Yes,” he grumbled like a little boy. “Much.”
“Good news, though.” I pulled back and gave him a tender smile. “You can rest easy knowing your best friend found a woman who loves him for who he is. And your wee sister found a man who treats her like a queen. That’s a nice Christmas present for a big brother.”
“Aye,” he nodded, a little gruff now. “Aye, it’s a pretty good Christmas present.”
“You should have invited your receptionist for Christmas breakfast and then we’d all be in on the joy.” I winked.
“Oh that’s right, Ev, tell the whole world.”
“That Doctor Munro is hot for his younger receptionist? Yes, yes, I will tell the whole world.”
Reid laughed at our backs, and Patrick cut him a filthy look. “Remember, the best man does a speech at the wedding,” he warned.
“I have no secrets from Ev.”
“But you do from Annie.”
That wiped the smirk off my fiancé’s face. Reid reached for me, pulling me toward him. “Okay, stop baiting your brother, Ev.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”
Really.
Best. Christmas. Ever.
Want to read more from Samantha Young?
What better way than to dive into one of her standalone contemporary romances!
BLACK TANGLED HEART
AVAILABLE NOW
Black Tangled Heart is a complete standalone. The Play On series are books connected by the theme of the arts industry, not by characters, and can be read in any order.
To me? She was everything.
Our passion consumed us.
When our world fell apart, I thought our love would be the thing that held us together.
She was the love of my life. But she abandoned me when I needed her most.
And I'll never forgive her.
For years I've been planning my revenge against the people who took everything from me.
Jane won't be an exception. I'm coming for her.
She knows it.
She says she wants to help me serve my version of justice on the people who hurt me.
I'll let her.
She probably thinks it will save her from me.
It won’t.
BLACK TANGLED HEART - AN EXCERPT
Determined not to let him see how much he affected me, I glared up at him. He’d only have to touch me, hold my hand, to realize I was trembling. His face was so familiar. His lips were lips I’d thought I’d kiss for the rest of my life. Why did the pain of it never dull? Why did it still feel like a shard of glass through my chest? “Did you leak those tapes of Foster Steadman to Asher’s mom?”
Something menacing flashed in his eyes before he banked it. “And i
f I did?”
“Are you being smart, Jamie?”
“Are you asking out of concern for me or for your billionaire boy toy?”
“Jamie.”
“Never mind. I don’t care.” The bastard dipped his nose to my throat, and I tensed against the stacked machines. He inhaled, his nose brushing my skin, and my fingers bit into the washer behind me. “You smell different,” he whispered, lifting his head to my ear. “Expensive perfume. You’ve come up in the world.”
I felt his breath caress my skin seconds before his teeth touched my earlobe. Gasping, I instinctively pushed my palms against his stomach as he bit down hard, causing a flush of heat between my legs.
With a dark chuckle, Jamie released my ear after one last nibble and whispered, “Is he the jealous type, Jane? Would it bother him to see you with me, knowing I’m the first man who ever slid his dick into you?”
My body reacted to his words in opposition to my mind. While my skin flushed and heat pooled low in my belly, I despised him for throwing me away and then losing all faith in me. For talking to me like this. And that war between my physical desire and my emotions made me hate him even more. I wanted to tear him up.
“Does he know how you like it?” His voice was thick now, hoarse, and he leaned the length of his strong body into mine, pushing me into the machines at my back. I could feel him. Throbbing. Hard. My breath skittered and my fingers curled into the cotton fabric of his T-shirt. “Does he know sweet, shy, Jane Doe loves a good, hard fucking as much as gentle lovemaking? That when the mood takes you, you like to be tied up, held down …” Jamie trailed his lips across my flushed cheek and brushed them against my mouth. “And fucked until you scream?”
Memories assailed me. Memories of our youthful adventures in sex. How together, we were open to anything. How exciting it had been to explore that side of ourselves with someone who made us feel safe and loved.
“Does he know you like to be fucked in public places?”
I shivered, remembering the hottest sex we ever had in a restroom at the theater.
“Does he hold you all night long, just the way you like?” Jamie trailed his fingertips along my collarbone, gentle, caressing. Almost loving. “Does he keep his dick buried inside you while you sleep like I did? How many nights did you want that from me? How you needed me to stay inside you, connected.”
Tears burned in my throat.
I’d been desperate for him. Wanted him to never leave me. To hold me always.
No one had held me in such a long time. Not like that.
Not since him.
I glared at his throat, half of me wanting to lick it and the other to rip it out with my teeth.
“Nothing to say?” He pressed a soft kiss to the side of my neck, one hand sliding down the curve of my waist to rest on my hip. He squeezed it. “Huh?”
Did it hurt him to be near me like it hurt me to be near him?
Was this causing him pain, or did he only find pleasure in trying to humiliate me, trying to make me feel guilty about Asher?
The dark ugliness he woke in me spread upward, searching for release. I turned my head toward his ear and whispered, “He likes it when I cry out his name.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw and curled my hand around the wrist of his hand resting on my hip. My nails dug into his skin as I undulated against his hard body. “Asher,” I groaned and felt Jamie stiffen. “Oh, Asher, yes, harder … Oh, Asher, I love you.”
Jamie slammed his hand hard against the dryer beside my head, and I flinched. He glared balefully down at me, hatred pouring out of him.
Yeah, pal, the feeling is mutual.
He bared his teeth before he opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it shut. Pushing off the dryer and out of my space, the tension in my body deflated a little as Jamie retreated. Then he chuckled. A harsh, unhappy sound. His expression was mock impressed, his voice hoarse as he said, “Baby Doe knows how to play the game. Good.” Malice glittered in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to make this easy for me.”
Turning on his heel, he strode out of the laundry room and called over his shoulder, “See you soon, neighbor.”
It was a threat.
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ABOUT SAMANTHA YOUNG
S. Young is the pen name for Samantha Young, a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author from Stirlingshire, Scotland. She’s been nominated for the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Author and Best Romance for her international bestseller On Dublin Street. On Dublin Street was Samantha’s first adult contemporary romance series and has sold in thirty countries. True Immortality is Samantha’s first adult paranormal series written under the name S. Young.
Connect with Samantha Young online at
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Milly
With snowflakes turning the night sky magical, I flip on the windshield wipers of my rental and smile. On a normal day, I would be cursing the snow, but today is not a normal day. It’s Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year.
I glance at the clock on the dash, seeing it’s thirty minutes till midnight, which means I’m right on time to meet Harry. When I see the darkened tree farm come into view, excitement fills the pit of my stomach, the same way it does every year.
“Milly,” Harry, the owner of Smith Farms, greets as I hop out of the cab of the truck. “You lucked out this year. I’ve got some real beauties for you.”
“Thank you.” I lean up to kiss his weathered old cheek. “How much do I owe you?”
“Every year, I tell you the same thing, honey. I’m not letting you pay me for trees that would go to waste,” he says, and tears start to fill my eyes as he sighs, pulling me in for a hug. “Don’t start crying on me.”
“I won’t, but you really are the best.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you loaded up so you can get on your way.” He lets me go, and for the next ten minutes, we fill the back of the truck with twelve beautiful trees that will make a few families’ Christmas a little more special.
Once we finish, I get back in the truck and roll down the window after I start the engine. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”
“You too, Milly.” He grins as I drive out of the lot blasting “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
“We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you—” My singing ends on a squeak as the tires on the truck I rented skid. Hitting the brakes, I hold onto the steering wheel for dear life as I fishtail, and then I scream when I drive off the side of the road down into a gully.
Panting for breath when I come to a stop, my head falls forward to rest against the steering wheel then jump when I hear a loud pop.
“No, no, no, no,” I hiss when I see smoke start to hiss out of the hood. Not wanting to blow up with the truck if it does, I quickly unhook my seatbelt and push open my door. When I hop out, I groan. With the snow we’ve had the last few days, the white stuff is up past my knees, making it difficult to walk through.
After a couple of minutes, I finally make it to the side of the road, and then I freeze there when I see the truck and exactly how much damage it’s sustained. Tears fill my eyes. There is no way it’s drivable with the front right tire almost twisted sideways, and the car rental place is definitely not open. I pull in a breath then look both ways down the pitch-black road.
As I pull my knit cap farther down on my head, I then grab my cell phone out of my pocket. When I see I don’t have any service, my head falls back to my shoulders. I want to scream at the top of my lungs and cry out my frustration, but I know neither of those things are going to help me right now.
Righting my knit cap, I take my mittens out of my pocket and start to walk. If I can get phone service, I might be able to get a hold of a tow company, and if I’m really lucky, they mig
ht have a truck I can use, so I can deliver everything before the sun rises.
I thought I knew what cold was before tonight, but with the snow beating against my face and my wet hair plastered against my skin, I know I was wrong. I’m freezing, and I’ve only been walking for twenty minutes. When lights reflect on the snow around me, I turn to look over my shoulder, feeling my stomach drop. I know the black truck coming up behind me, recognizing it immediately as belonging to Tyler Speeds, the owner of Speeds’ Bar, and the one man in Port Huron who has the ability to press my buttons—both good and bad.
As he gets closer, I pray my white jacket, cap, and mittens make me blend in with the snow, making me invisible to him as he drives by. I know my prayers aren’t going to be answered when I hear the rumble of his engine start to slow then curse myself for my sudden bad luck when he yells my name. Knowing I can’t really avoid this—and pretty sure I might be getting frostbite on my toes even with my Uggs on—I stop to face him when he pulls up next to me.
“What the hell are you doing out here, Milly?” he bites out, making me cringe as he pushes open the passenger door, which turns on the light in the cab of the truck, illuminating his beautiful face. There are not many men I would call beautiful, but there is no other way to describe Tyler—with his perfectly groomed beard, full lips, deep-brown eyes, and dark hair that tends to fall whatever way it pleases. Since I can remember, I’ve had a crush on him, and he’s always been indifferent toward me, which really sucks.