Ginger Snapping All the Way Synopsis

Maddox

I’m not a fan of Christmas. I’m happy to stay up in my mountain cabin and let the silly season pass me by.  But when a friend asks for a favor, I can’t say no.  Now I’m stuck in my cabin during a snowstorm, trapped with the most beautiful man I’ve ever met—who can’t wait to get away. He just might break my heart when he goes.

Ravi

I’m racing to get home for the birth of my goddaughter when mechanical troubles force my plane’s emergency landing. There are no beds at the inn due to a horrendous storm, but a friend says she knows a guy who won’t mind putting me up until the bad weather passes.  Now I’m trapped with that man, and I must decide if I stay, hiding from the rest of the world, or go and face my past to earn a shot at my happily ever after.

This is a 72k word, hurt/comfort, lumberjack/nurse, grumpy/sunshine, forced proximity MM romance novel with a moderate amount of angst.

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How the author who hates Christmas keeps writing Christmas-themed books.

I’ll start by letting you in on a little secret.  I don’t hate Christmas.  I won’t bore you with the psychology of my parents’ divorce, or the fact my best friend died Christmas day. Or that spending time with my dysfunctional family isn’t always top on my list of fun activities.  I do love my family (most of the time) and I love playing aunt to my nieces and nephews (all of the time).  But Christmas itself?  With the lights, the smells, the noise (i.e. Christmas carols) …it’s sensory overload.  Sometimes I just want to sit in Starbucks, write on my laptop, and not hear about sleighbells ringing or jingling around the clock.

So how did I wind up writing about Christmas so often?  Well, my first gay romance was set on the winter solstice.  I’m neither religious nor particularly pagan, but the longest night of the year fascinates me.  I wanted to add a touch of the paranormal to my story, so I figured December 21^st was a good day to set the story.  Except, after the dark-night-of-the-soul moment, my guys had to reunite.  And what better time than Christmas Eve?  I stamped the book as a holiday story and moved on.

My next book was set around the summer solstice.  Hot, muggy, miserable.  When I wrote the follow-up book, I needed to jump ahead six months.  And…I wrote another winter solstice book.  Except everyone was gathering for Christmas, so it was a really a Christmas book.

This year, my publisher was looking for Christmas cookie novellas. I obsessed over finding the perfect title, thrilled to settle on Ginger Snapping All the Way.  Except when I wrote the story, I made my heroes’ emotional wounds so deep that the story didn’t fit the cookie novella idea.  I withdrew from their process, finished writing my first full-length gay novel, and voilà, another Christmas book.  My main character doesn’t like Christmas.  He has good reasons.  He’s as grumpy about the season as I am.  I worried I was making him too Scrooge-like, so I gave him a little white fluffy dog to soften him up. (I also might or might not have a little white dog who softens me up…)

So that’s how the author who dislikes Christmas wound up writing three Christmas books.  I’m currently plodding away on a fourth that’ll come out next year.  I figure best to write it while I’m surrounded by carols, tinsel, lights, and trees.  Oh, and I love reading Christmas books.  Choosing a favorite is almost impossible, but Tic Tac Mistletoe by N.R. Walker and The Lights of Knocksbridge Lane by Roan Parrish are two I adored.

What’s your favorite Christmas book or movie?  Drop it in the chat.  One random winner will win a copy of Ginger Snapping All the Way.

The eggs were burning, and the bacon was smoking. At least he had the presence of mind to grab an oven mitt before moving both pans off the burners and switching the heat off.

All my hard work. The meal I intended to present to him as a thanks. All ruined. Tears prickled at the backs of my eyes.

Don’t cry.

Our gazes locked again. My throat burned, and not because of the smoke now permeating the kitchen. Something in his look told me I wasn’t alone. Both in this moment and in life, I wasn’t alone.

“They canceled the flight.”

Nice. Classy. Just drop a lead balloon on his foot.

He winced as if I’d done just that. Then he pointed outside. “That was a given. The wind’s picked up and blowing snow across the Sumas is a real problem for the airport. Even if they could keep the runways clear, visibility’s way too limited for it to be safe.”

I blinked.

“Hey.” He stepped closer, reaching out to steady my elbow.

I’m not sure which of us was more surprised, but neither of us moved. His hand was large and sturdy. Much like the man himself.

“You must be disappointed. I mean, that whole rush to get back to Calgary—”

“I missed her birth.”

His brow knit in obvious confusion.

“My goddaughter.” I pressed my hand to my heart. “I promised Lilith I’d be there for the birth, and I know it’s not my fault she went into premature labor, and I’m incredibly glad the baby’s okay, but I made a promise, you know? That meant something. Or it was supposed to mean something. But I missed it, and now it means nothing.”

A tear escaped, and I brushed it away furiously.

His grip on my elbow tightened, and he pulled me toward him. He gave me plenty of time to pull back. To pull away.

Truth was, I wanted whatever comfort he was prepared to offer. Missing the baby’s birth broke my heart. And I couldn’t have done anything anyway, but that kind of powerless feeling always broke something inside me. I allowed myself to be drawn in. Since I was several inches shorter, my head tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck.

He continued to cradle my elbow while he slid his other hand around my back and rubbed.

Soothing.

Caring.

Comforting.

Then something inside me broke. For two years I’d held in the pain. Been the strong one. Pushed everything to the back of my mind. So I could focus on my job. So I could be the best surgical nurse possible. So I could treat as many children as possible. Working long days had become the norm. Anything to wear me out. Dropping into bed exhausted at the end of the day was always the goal. And I’d succeeded. Spectacularly. I couldn’t remember the last day off I’d taken.

Now, due to Mother Nature, I was stopped in my tracks. I hit a metaphorical brick wall. And had no concept of what to do with myself, or how to cope with the emotions raining down upon me.

Gabbi lives in beautiful British Columbia where her fur baby chin-poo keeps her safe from the nasty neighborhood squirrels. Working for the government by day, she spends her early mornings writing contemporary, gay, sweet, and dark erotic BDSM romances. While she firmly believes in happy endings, she also believes in making her characters suffer before finding their true love. She also writes m/f romances as Gabbi Black.

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Gabbi brought a wonderful giveaway for us

You have a chance to win an ecopy of Ginger Snapping all the Way !