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    Cinnamon Claus: Heartthrobs & Holidays, #3
    Cinnamon Claus: Heartthrobs & Holidays, #3
    Cinnamon Claus: Heartthrobs & Holidays, #3
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    Cinnamon Claus: Heartthrobs & Holidays, #3

    By Ellis Leigh

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    About this ebook

    No one ever said working with Santa was all reindeer games, and North Pole isn't a place of wonder and amazement…until it is. It may not be the holidays, but magic is definitely in the air.

     

    * * *

     

    Working in Santa's post office wasn't an easy job. Each letter had to be read—even the ones that dug a hole in your heart and left shadows of the pain they imparted. But every elf needed a job if they were going to afford things like food and heat and a place to read a good book.

     

    Every elf except Santa's brother. He's wild, charming, and totally unrestrained by the monotony of life…or so go the rumors. He's totally not the type of man I would take a second look at. At least, not until an accident he causes forces me to and my world heads down a path I hadn't thought possible.

     

    What should a good elf do when the bad-boy brother of the big man himself comes to town and burns down the rumor mill with his smile, his kindness, and his heart? The spare may just be more vital to the Claus name than anyone expected. And I might be falling in love with him.

     

    * * *

     

    If you want to read a hilarious and comical story, this is the one for you. ~BookwormSuzy, reviewing CANDIED WOLF

     

    CINNAMON CLAUS is a paranormal romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Ellis Leigh. The story is a standalone PNR rom-com with wit, snark, shifters, and more than just flirting.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKinship Press
    Release dateDec 7, 2021
    ISBN9781954702301
    Cinnamon Claus: Heartthrobs & Holidays, #3
    Author

    Ellis Leigh

    A storyteller from the time she could talk, USA Today bestselling author Ellis Leigh grew up among family legends of hauntings, psychics, and love spanning decades. Those stories didn’t always have the happiest of endings, so they inspired her to write about real life, real love, and the difficulties therein. From farmers to werewolves, store clerks to witches—if there’s love to be found, she’ll write about it. Ellis lives in the Chicago area with her husband, daughters, and a German Shepherd that refuses to leave her side. Ellis can also be found writing tropey, erotic shorts with her bestie Brighton Walsh as London Hale or taking her suspense into the contemporary world as Kristin Harte.

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      Book preview

      Cinnamon Claus - Ellis Leigh

      Cinnamon Claus

      CINNAMON CLAUS

      KINSHIP COVE: HEARTTHROBS & HOLIDAYS

      ELLIS LEIGH

      Kinship Press

      CINNAMON CLAUS

      KINSHIP COVE: HEARTTHROBS & HOLIDAYS

      No one ever said working with Santa was all reindeer games, and North Pole isn’t a place of wonder and amazement…until it is. It may not be the holidays, but magic is definitely in the air.

      Working in Santa’s post office wasn’t an easy job. Each letter had to be read—even the ones that dug a hole in your heart and left shadows of the pain they imparted. But every elf needed a job if they were going to afford things like food and heat and a place to read a good book.

      Every elf except Santa’s brother. He’s wild, charming, and totally unrestrained by the monotony of life…or so go the rumors. He’s totally not the type of man I would take a second look at. At least, not until an accident he causes forces me to and my world heads down a path I hadn’t thought possible.

      What should a good elf do when the bad-boy brother of the big man himself comes to town and burns down the rumor mill with his smile, his kindness, and his heart? The spare may just be more vital to the Claus name than anyone expected. And I might be falling in love with him.

      For the latest release information, additional content, and promotions, sign up for Ellis Leigh’s newsletter.

      1

      ZIRA

      Being the illegitimate child of one of Santa’s most trusted elves was definitely not something I would recommend. Like, ever.

      Neither was working at the postal office for the big man himself.

      Another one. I sighed and set the letter to the side, running my fingers over the loopy, messy script some child had worked hard to put down on ruled notebook paper likely torn out of a school pad. These are the worst.

      Dahnearys, the older elf who helped me keep Santa’s wish list up-to-date, sighed. Was it socks or a coat?

      Socks. It’s always the socks that get me.

      Because how bad must a child’s life be for them to use their one shot at toys and fun to ask instead for something as basic as socks? It gutted me to read those requests, especially knowing Santa was going to disappoint them.

      I wish he’d actually bring them a pair of socks. Just once.

      Dahnearys sighed. I know, child. Those letters are hard.

      She stared off for a second at another, much smaller pile. The one that grew every year and forever would. The one there was no way for us to help with. The please bring back my… pile. The older elf had once said those were the letters that kept her up at night. I couldn’t even begin to fathom them, so my focus remained on the ones asking for socks. We actually could have actually done something about socks.

      A sudden alarm broke the stillness of the mail room, a light in the corner flashing green.

      Oh, come on, I said. Whined, really. I wasn’t in the mood for this.

      You know he has to push out content this time of year. Otherwise, the kids might forget about him and move on to some other mythical creature just waiting in the wings to take over. Dahnearys rose to her feet and straightened her work area, hurrying off to the little cubby at the front of the mail room that actually looked like an antiquated post office. I did the same, but at a much slower pace—tucking away my cell phone, tidying the stacks of mail, closing the lid on the computer I used to receive the emails from more modern children. Once finished, I also headed into the old-fashioned postal room. I grabbed my bonnet from the hook by the door and stood next to Dahnearys, ready for our yearly visit from the man himself.

      This is such a waste of time, I said, keeping my voice low and my plastic smile in place. He knows we’re super busy.

      He does, but there’s nothing we can do. Smile, be pleasant, and hopefully he’ll leave us alone in a few minutes. You do remember what to say if he calls you out, right?

      I would have answered her, but at that moment, the door flew open and Santa himself came walking through. He had a handful of elves following him, one with a big camera on his shoulder. All of them practically tripping over themselves to keep up with the man in red.

      Ho, ho, ho. And here we have our post office, where all your letters come in to be prepared for me to read.

      The urge to roll my eyes was a tough one to resist, but I managed. That man hadn’t read a letter in years. He had us to do that for him.

      Santa said a few more things into the camera, putting on a good show, before moving across the room to where the huge sacks of mail sat, all filled with letters in hundreds of languages. All waiting to be read.

      Looks like my postal elves are falling a little behind. Don’t worry, kiddos. I’ll make sure to read every letter before I take off on Christmas Eve. No one will slow me down.

      Dahnearys looked ready to spit nails but stood stock-still, glaring at the old man. The one who both made us so proud and drove us absolutely bananas.

      Thankfully, at that moment, the elf Queen walked into the postal room. Her clove scent wafted around her, and her soft smile for each elf in her vicinity eased the tension. Especially for Dahnearys and me.

      Good morning, ladies, she said, her voice practically filled with magic. How goes the letter-reading this year?

      Dahnearys and I both nodded, whispering words like Well, ma’am and Fine, Your Majesty. The Queen’s smile grew, and she glanced over her shoulder to where Santa seemed to be speaking loudly directly into the camera. About what, I had no idea because I had the Queen’s attention.

      Miss Zira, she said, dragging her eyes away from Santa and keeping a smile on her face even as her eyes seemed to darken. Are there any letters to be discarded? Any…basics-only requests?

      My heart jumped in my chest. This was why I loved the woman so much. See, when children only asked for basics—socks, a winter coat, new gloves—and no toys, the letters were discarded and the list updated to state, generic toy. The Queen knew this, and she also knew our giving her those letters was strictly forbidden.

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