Release Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
The Best Gift by Eli Easton
With help from a Christmas miracle, two bruised hearts find joy again.
Greg Cabot is the third generation to run Cabot’s Christmas Wonderland and tree farm in rural Vermont. But this year will be his last. Since the death of his son, Sam, in Afghanistan, Greg no longer has the heart to run a business based on holiday cheer. When he picks up a hitchhiking soldier on a snowy night, he finds the help he needs to get his farm through the holidays—and maybe much more.
Sergeant Robbie Sparks doesn’t have much to be thankful for this holiday season. Badly wounded in Afghanistan, he’s spent the last eight months in recovery and was discharged after ten years of service. When fate lands him at Cabot’s tree farm, he feels like he’s fallen into a snow globe reality. Friendly people, gorgeous trees, lots of Christmas kitsch… and Greg Cabot.
Greg believes he’s too heartbroken for romance, but those we love never truly leave us. A little nudge from heaven may help build a bridge for these two men trying to heal. If only they are willing to take that first step.
This stand-alone, long novella is a small town, Christmas cornucopia, May-December, hurt/comfort , ex-military romance stuffed full of family and holiday feels.
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I was totally jacked for this. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d decorated a real Christmas tree. We’d had them on base when I’d been in San Diego, and even in Afghanistan, but they just sort of appeared and they were for everyone. The memories I had of decorating with my mother were more imagined than really remembered, I’d been so young. Yeah, this was the bomb, but I tried to act blasé about it. I was a grown man, after all, and a vet.
We got the tree into a sturdy-looking green stand and gave it water. First things first. Then Greg began opening the dozen bins we’d brought down. I opened one and saw a Styrofoam lid. Under it was a grid of Styrofoam, each section holding an old-fashioned glass ornament. They looked like antiques or something, real fragile, and they were beautiful. I picked up a glass snowman with care. These things were probably worth a bundle on eBay. Not that I would ever sell them, if they were mine. This collection was priceless. I carried it to the tree.
“Not yet,” Greg said, pulling open a cardboard box. “The lights go on first.”
“Oh. I suppose you think you’re a Christmas tree expert or something?”
Greg looked confused for a moment, then got a bashful smile. “Something like that.” Spots of red stained his cheeks, but his smile remained.
Really, I should mind my Ps and Qs and not tease the guy. But it felt good to even want to tease. I used to have a good sense of humor, but after waking up in the hospital, nothing seemed funny anymore. Having those quips even come into my head felt like… like I was healing, as my docs would say. Besides, I could swear Greg liked it. He looked like a little boy when I teased him, and I could stand to see a lot more of that.
I put the little snowman carefully back in the box. “Okay, tree man. So how do we do the lights? Teach me. I am a blank page.”
Greg chuckled, still blushing. “So, um, it depends on what you prefer. All white or color? Big bulbs or small? Flashing or stay-on?”
I almost said something about big bulbs, but that was probably a bridge too far. Besides, this was my first real Christmas tree in forever, and I wanted to take this seriously. I looked at the box of glass ornaments. “If we’re doing mostly those old-fashioned glass deals, we should do something old-fashioned to go with them. Does that make sense?”
“Sure.” Greg dug around in a box and pulled out a set of lights with large multi-colored bulbs, real throwbacks. “Like these?”
“Yeah! Those’d be good.”
“Let’s do it. First, I like to plug ’em in and make sure they’re working. Otherwise, there’s a whole lot of cursing if you get them just right on the tree and they don’t work.”
“Yes, Sensei,” I said seriously.
Greg gave me a look and nudged my arm as he passed me with the lights. He plugged them into an outlet on the wall under the bay window, and blue, red, and green lit up his handsome face.
“Yeah, baby! Rock and roll,” I exclaimed, forgetting I was supposed to act blasé.
Greg grinned at me. “Here. Take the end of these and hold it while I wrap.”
“Sounds kinky.” I took the end of the heavy mass of lights.
Putting the lights up was a little like playing Twister. Greg and I had to duck under arms and do si doe around each other and the tree as we unwrapped tangles while getting the lights on the branches. Greg started at the top, and we walked around the tree like it was a Maypole, Greg tucking in the strands with expert movements.
Being this close to him got my blood pumping and shot more adrenaline through me than I’d felt in a war zone. He was big and warm, and he smelled great—like pine trees and fresh air. His flannel shirt made me want to touch its softness and feel what was underneath. I might have brushed against him when it wasn’t strictly necessary a few times. But I tried to keep the way he affected me to myself. We were, after all, engaged in a perfectly wholesome activity. And I didn’t want to make things weird.
After we got the first strand on, I figured we were done, but no. Greg went and found another strand of the same bulbs and we started again. We put on lots and lots of lights, not a stingy amount. Like, would there even be room for ornaments? But Greg tucked at least half the bulbs in deep and it looked cool AF. And I wasn’t about to complain about the time it took when it meant I got to be so close to him.
By the time we’d finished the second strand and stood back to look, I could swear that blue spruce looked so good with just the lights, it was a shame to put anything more on it.
“That was fun,” I said. “But I now know you more intimately than my last three lovers.”
“Only three?” Greg asked, eyes twinkling.
“Maybe there’s only ever been three.” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, twenty-eight, good-looking as you are, and in uniform? Not buying that one.”
My belly—and lower—warmed at the compliment. He thought I was good-looking? I could work with that.
Except, damn it, I couldn’t. No fucking around with Greg Cabot.
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About the Author:
Coming from a background in computer game design, Eli has written over 50 books in m/m romance since 2013. The Mating of Michael (2014) and A Second Harvest (2016) both won The William Neale Award for Best Gay Contemporary Romance, and Eli’s books have won many awards from the Goodreads M/M Romance Group’s Reader’s Choice Awards. She is best known for her Christmas romances, the Howl at the Moon series of rom coms featuring dog shifters, and the Nerds Vs Jocks series, co-written with Tara Lain.
Connect with Eli:
www.elieaston.com
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Twitter: @elieaston
