A warm welcome to author Rebecca James joining us today to talk about her release of “The Key to his Christmas”.
Rebecca shares an exclusive excerpt and brought a fabulous giveaway!
Welcome Rebecca 🙂

Blurb:

On his way home in the middle of a snowstorm, firefighter Dane McCormick spots a man huddled beneath an overpass. Knowing the town’s only shelter is full to capacity, and being a firm believer in helping others, Dane stops and offers the man a warm place to stay.
Sayer Mills has learned the hard way not to be too trusting, yet something tells him he can trust the handsome firefighter who kindly offers him shelter from the elements. The young widower has sequestered himself in his cottage in the woods with only his huge dog for companionship, and Sayer finds himself wanting to bring a little joy into the house in return for Dane’s kindness.
With mutual attraction growing between the two men, Dane wonders if he can convince his house guest to stay longer than the holidays, and Sayer second guesses his plan to head to the next town.
The Key to his Heart for Christmas is 21k of holiday sweetness mixed with the passion you’ve come to expect from a Rebecca James MM romance. This novella was originally published by JMS Books under the title Love Lost, Love Found. Upon regaining rights, the author reworked the story, doubling it in length, although the names of the characters and basic premise remain the same as the original version.

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Resting his chin on his hand, Sayer looked out the window to where several colorful birds gathered on the snow-packed bird bath. A yellow-headed blackbird landed on one of the feeders, dipping its vibrant head to pick up seed. “I’d love to paint them.”

I’d love to watch you paint them, I thought out of nowhere.

“Do you paint a lot?” I asked.

“I don’t do it much anymore—well, not at all since I lost my house, but I used to sketch or paint during my leisure time. I have a small sketch book and pencils in my duffel bag.”

“Can I see what you’ve done?”

“Sure.” Sayer got up and left the room. When he came back, he handed the sketch pad to me and went to the oven to check on whatever he was cooking. “A friend of mine is keeping all my artwork for me. One of the friends with kids I didn’t want to impose on. She thinks I’m touring the country.”

He sat down again and looked out the window at the birds fluttering about the feeder.

“Maybe I’ll sketch those. What’s that one with the black mask? I used to see those around my backyard all the time.” Sayer pointed to a bird that had just landed on the feeder closest to the window.

“That’s a…some kind of waxwing. Hold on, I have a bird book.” I leaned back and reached for Birds of Colorado on the small bookshelf behind me and pushed it across the table to Sayer before turning my attention back to his sketchpad.

“These are really good.” Some sketches were of wildlife and some were portraits. “I’m not just saying that. You could sell these. Who are the people?”

“Just random folks I’ve seen while I’ve been traveling. Here,” Sayer pointed to the bird book he’d been looking through, “a Bohemian waxwing.”

I thought traveling an interesting way to describe roaming from place to place looking for work and shelter, each day bringing more disappointment and increasing despondency. The sketches really were quite good; Sayer had a skill for bringing things to life on paper.

“I’m serious; I’d buy one of these. My friend Aliyah owns a coffee shop, and I’m sure she’d let you show a few there. Artists do from time to time.”

“I’m not that good.” Sayer shook his head.

“I’m telling you, you are. Let me ask her.”

Sayer looked afraid to hope. And who could blame him? “None of those sketches are good enough to sell. I’d have to paint something, and all my stuff’s back in Woodson.”

“Well, in that case, I just happen to have what you need.” I stood. “Be right back.”

I went to the storage closet at the back of the house, gathered the large canvas bag and the folded easel, and brought them to the living room.

Sayer walked out of the kitchen. “Was your wife a painter as well as a photographer?”

“No, her sister Ella was the painter, and she left these things here. You can use them.”

“No, I couldn’t use her stuff,” he protested.

“She left them with Liz several years ago when she got married and moved to France. She doesn’t want them back. Please use them. I certainly have no use for them.”

Sayer walked forward, set down his cup, and began taking things out of the bag. There were various oil paints, canvases, brushes, a palette, a palette knife, and a bottle of linseed oil. “Looks like everything I’d need except turpentine,” Sayer said.

“Which I can easily get. I may even have some out in the shed. You can set up on the back porch.”

Sayer’s eyes met mine. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to.” I shrugged.

Sayer looked over the supplies again, running long fingers over the various tubes of paint. “You’re really tempting me.”

“Then do it!” I grinned. “What have you got to lose?”

“When I lost everything, I thought I’d never have the time to paint again.” Sayer picked up a brush with the kind of care and respect only an artist would display.

“Maybe losing your job was a sign that painting’s what you should be doing full time. At least think about it. You think dinner’s ready? I’m starved.”

Sayer hadn’t taken his eyes off the paints, but he looked up at me then, eyes dancing. “Yeah. Let’s eat.”

For as long as I can remember, writing has been a compulsion for me. As a kid, I wrote stories to entertain friends and family and make them laugh. When I was a teenager, I enjoyed writing rounds of stories with my friends. Everyone told me I should publish, but I didn’t believe I was good enough.

Fan fiction was my first foray into writing for strangers. It allowed me to anonymously hone my craft. The X Files fandom introduced me to “slash,” or M/M fan fiction, and I was intrigued but didn’t read or write it until later when someone I’d met in that fandom took me to Live Journal. There I found others who enjoyed reading about intimate relationships between men, and I was hooked. I wrote for the Starsky and Hutch, Merlin, and Harry Potter fandoms before finally getting up the nerve to try to publish.

My first books were published by JMS Books. My husband encouraged me to publish on my own, but it took me a while to be ready for that. There was a lot to learn! Self-publishing is not easy, ladies and gentlemen.

Now that I have the rights back to my work, I am slowly revising and rereleasing. One of my first novellas, a story of a young firefighter who takes in a homeless man at Christmas and falls in love, was originally published under the title Love Lost, Love Found. I decided to change aspects of the plot and add to the length before putting it out myself with a new cover. The story is now twice as long and has just been released under the title The Key to his Heart for Christmas. Link mybook.to/The_Key

As for my other novels, book six in my Hedonist motorcycle series should be out at the end of the year, and I have a paranormal shifter series, an omegaverse series, as well as a couple of sci-fantasy novels available. I hope you’ll give my books a try. Join my private reader group on Facebook, Rebecca’s Readers, for updates, prizes, and excerpts. Link https://www.facebook.com/groups/RJReaders

Rebecca brougth an amazing giveaway for our readers!

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