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I've always believed in Christmas magic. Turns out, I was right. Because Santa is real--and he needs my help to save Christmas.
He walks in off the street and I instantly know. This isn't a mall-Santa. Not a flirty-dad-volunteer-Santa.
No, no.
This man is the real deal, a tall silver fox with jolly eyes and a sinful mouth. And apparently, he’s not just here for cookies.
He says I’m his fated mate and if I don’t let him feed from me, his magic will die and Christmas might implode.
Which would be tragic, so of course I let him put me over his lap and call me his good little milkmaid.
Now I’m magically engorged, and every time he drinks from me, the lights flicker and magic explodes through atmosphere.
Honestly, I think I’m okay with saving Christmas this way.
Very okay. Frequently. Loudly. Repeatedly.
Milk is a magical holiday novella with a stern, possessive Daddy Santa, and a sweet heroine who finally learns how good it feels to be taken care of.
He walks in off the street and I instantly know. This isn't a mall-Santa. Not a flirty-dad-volunteer-Santa.
No, no.
This man is the real deal, a tall silver fox with jolly eyes and a sinful mouth. And apparently, he’s not just here for cookies.
He says I’m his fated mate and if I don’t let him feed from me, his magic will die and Christmas might implode.
Which would be tragic, so of course I let him put me over his lap and call me his good little milkmaid.
Now I’m magically engorged, and every time he drinks from me, the lights flicker and magic explodes through atmosphere.
Honestly, I think I’m okay with saving Christmas this way.
Very okay. Frequently. Loudly. Repeatedly.
Milk is a magical holiday novella with a stern, possessive Daddy Santa, and a sweet heroine who finally learns how good it feels to be taken care of.
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