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    Simon and the Christmas Spirit
    Simon and the Christmas Spirit
    Simon and the Christmas Spirit
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Simon and the Christmas Spirit

    By Summer Devon and Bonnie Dee

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    About this ebook

    A Christmas trifle from Devon/Dee.

    The holiday spirit has forsaken Simon Harris. A recent reminder of the man who used then left him sends lonely Simon on a glum visit to his club to while away a few hours. A breath of fresh air in the form of Christopher Andrews is about to enter his stale life.

    Performer of many talents and faces, Christopher gained entrée into the club to win money at cards. Unfortunately, he’s losing. But the evening needn’t be a complete disappointment as he strikes up a friendship with a gentleman which ends in a bedroom.

    Simon and Christopher enjoy a few hours of pleasure together, never expecting to see each other again, but Simon’s newfound resolution to change might just transform both their holidays.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSummer Devon
    Release dateNov 8, 2015
    ISBN9781310711848
    Simon and the Christmas Spirit
    Author

    Summer Devon

    About the Author Summer Devon is the alter ego of Kate Rothwell who also writes under her own name.  Summer writes m/m books of all sorts. Many of her titles are co-written with Bonnie Dee For more information about Summer/Kate, go to http://katerothwell.com or http://summerdevon.com.  Summer can also be found at https://www.facebook.com/S.DevonAuthor

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      Book preview

      Simon and the Christmas Spirit - Summer Devon

      Simon and the Christmas Spirit

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright © 2015 by Bonnie Dee & Summer Devon

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      Smashwords License Notes

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      Dedication

      A morsel of sweetness for all our readers at Christmas time. We hope you enjoy Simon and Christopher.

      Chapter One

      London, 1884

      It’s nice to see you, sir. And may I wish you a happy Christmas, sir, the porter said.

      It’s not for two days yet, Simon muttered. The porter looked as if he was about to apologize. Simon quickly added, and a happy Christmas to you as well. Of course. Thank you. Send round a brandy, if you please?

      Feeling even more churlish, Simon walked to the club’s cardroom. Smoke hung in the air, too much tobacco plus an ancient fireplace that refused to draw properly. The furnishings in this room were scratched and water marked, though clean, except he could see that one of the deer heads decorating the wall had dusty antlers. Many of the stuffed animal heads had sprigs of evergreens perched on them like sloppy hats. No doubt a few drunken, younger members had managed that.

      He belonged to two clubs, though he rarely visited this one because Simon had no desire to gamble or drink too much—usually. Tonight he hoped a few rounds of cards would push him out of the haze of angry self-pity. He might not have many talents, but he was good at cards. Though as Millard had once said, counting and numbers were hardly a matter of talent.

      Be gone, Millard. He’d been chanting that silently to himself for nearly the last twenty-four hours, ever since he’d seen his ex-friend at Lucinda’s wedding.

      One of the club’s regulars drifted over to Simon’s spot near the smoky fire and plopped down in the worn velvet chair across from him. Percival Jenks, an amiable chatty sort in his forties, with hair like a hedgehog and eyes like a toad, had the tendency to pry into one’s business.

      Simon wished he hadn’t picked this club after all. But the worst that could happen would be he’d infect someone else with his dreadful mood—and Jenks was not likely to catch anyone’s darkness.

      Jenks sighed heavily. Dratted slow time of year. Everyone and his brother has gone to ground.

      Someone barked with laughter. Simon glanced at the tables.

      Jenks waved. He used the hand with the glass, so some of the straw-colored liquid spilled out. There’s some new fellow who’s far too noisy.

      Hmm. Simon took his snifter of brandy from the tray held by a waiter.

      Jenks sipped from his glass and goggled at Simon. Not used to seeing you here. Had enough of being the head of your family, eh, after that wedding? All the best to Mrs. Mallard. Ha, sounds like a duck, eh?

      "Mrs. Millard, Simon corrected, because he had to get used to saying the name again. She married a nice chap," he added. And if he was lucky, Simon would never have to attend any family event with Lucinda’s new family.

      Ah. Millard. That fellow you were so thick with last year.

      No. She married his younger brother. Thank goodness for small favors.

      Simon had introduced Lucinda to Millard’s younger brother back when he still thought himself in love with Thomas Millard, the firstborn.

      Hang it, he had been in love with the man. Why else would it still rankle months later? He sank lower in his seat as if he could escape the memory of the embarrassing note he’d found one summer day. Boring old Simon is predictably sentimental. It’ll be our anniversary soon. I should wait to get a gift before I finally extricate myself. No worries, I shall sell it as soon as possible, whatever it is.

      Some of what he’d found in the unfinished letter lying on the divan hadn’t been news to Simon; after all, Millard had long called him Boss which stood for Boring Old Simon. Funny that Simon had considered it an endearment; he’d supposed Millard had thought of him as strong and reliable.

      He’d called Simon Boss yesterday, when they’d met at Lucinda’s wedding.

      During and after the wedding, Simon had tried to avoid Millard, and that effort failed spectacularly. Every few minutes, the man had appeared at his elbow, acting as if they were old friends reunited and happy to see each other. And of course, for Lucinda’s sake and for appearances, Simon had gone along with the farce. He’d ached to smash his fist into Millard’s face but had only smiled weakly and waited for him to go away. He still haunted Simon.

      Simon folded his arms and stared into the fire. Go away, Millard.

      Take my advice and swallow that down as soon as possible. You look like a man in need of a drink, Jenks said.

      Simon smiled. You look like a man who’s taken his own advice.

      I’m squiffed, Jenks announced solemnly. I shall remain potted until New Year’s.

      Perhaps Simon could try that method. But first he’d attempt to lose himself in a game. He rose to his feet, excused himself, and walked among the tables. Only one group actually played cards.

      He recognized

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