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eBook Category: Erotica
eBook Description: Sassy, Sexy, Sapphic Fable! High-powered Boston attorney and lesbian Heather Scrooge wants nothing to do with Christmas--love or lovers. She would much rather spend the night in her apartment alone going over lengthy case files than celebrate the season with the rest of her women friends. Her love life consists of getting off with a vibrator. But Heather wasn't always such cold, distant person. In this naughty retelling of the Christmas classic, the ghost Jenna Marley, Heather's former law partner, reaches out to Heather from beyond the grave to help Heather see the error of her ways and reform before its too late. And Jenna needs a little help from her friends, in the form of three comely female spirits. The sensual dyke of Christmas Past takes Heather on a rollicking journey back in time, revealing crucial moments from her love life that Heather had forgotten. Former loves (and former lusts!) remind Heather just how much she once craved the touch of another woman. From romantic trysts to hot, sweaty passionate encounters, Heather experiences her youthful sexual escapades all over again. Christmas Present is a tough leather dyke who just loves to watch and she takes Heather on a voyeuristic roller coaster ride, showing Heather exactly what she is missing by keeping herself locked up in her apartment all alone. As an unseen observer, Heather learns a great deal more about the women in her circle than she ever imagined ... their kinks, their appetites. And just when Heather has had enough the dyke of Christmas Yet-To-Come gives her a glimpse of the future, not just her future but the future of those women closest to her. For some it is a wanton future of dominance and submission, punishment and reward, but for others the future is one of meaningless sexual liaisons. Will Heather be moved by what she sees? Will visions of the past, present, and future thaw her icy ... heart? Or will Heather Scrooge spend of the rest of her life in a lonely bed with out a love to keep her warm? Warm up your own nights with this sizzling new riff on the traditional holiday tale from the author of Hard Time and Lady Davenport's Slave.

eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler, Published: 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2005

17 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [804 KB], eReader (PDB) [155 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [148 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [131 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [161 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [187 KB], hiebook (KML) [396 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [205 KB], iSilo (PDB) [121 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [151 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [204 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [194 KB]
Words: 47216
Reading time: 134-188 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Humbug, Heather Scrooge thought.

Looking out her office window, Heather watched the snow that was just starting to fall over Boston. It was that thick, heavy snow so common in New England in winter, the kind that lent itself to the building of snowpersons and the shaping of perfect snowballs. Heather knew for most people the snowfall would be a much welcomed development, what with it being Christmas Eve, fulfilling all their cliched little fantasies for the holiday season. And that's what made her different than most other people. She saw the snow for what it was ... nothing but humbug.

Heather shook her head. How could so many people go through life with blinders on? It frustrated her no end. Most other people would look out her window, see the large snowflakes coming down, and quickly start to romanticize. Not her. She watched the snow falling over Boston and saw the reality of it, slick streets and slower traffic because of them, sidewalks covered in slush that would find its way inside her boots no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. When she heard people blather on about cozy winter nights spent cuddled up in front of a roaring fire Heather wanted to shake her fist and scream at them. There was nothing even slightly romantic about the rise in heating costs that came with those winter nights.

But people simply refused to see the truth even when it was right in front of their faces, choosing to wallow in romantic illusion instead of facing reality. And what did it get them? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Fools, Heather grumbled mentally. She tugged on the cuff of her black suit jacket so it again covered the crimson blouse she was wearing underneath it. The kind of foolishness Heather saw all around her reminded her all over again why she so loved to practice law. It was cut and dried, black and white. Simple. No amount of romanticizing could change the facts. In order for the law to work it had to be dispassionate, and that definitely appealed to her sensibilities. What good was the law if it could be swayed by emotion? The answer was obvious to her. No good at all.

Now if only the rest of the world could see things as clearly as she did.

Heather grunted at the dull gray afternoon sky stretched out over the sprawling city outside her window. Was it really asking too much for people to be practical? She didn't think so. But this time of year more than any other Heather knew she was expecting the impossible. At least she had learned something in her forty-two years. Unfortunately no one else had.

And that just frustrated her even more.

Shrugging off the thought before it depressed her, Heather sat down behind her side of the antique partners desk that filled her office and stared at the unused half in front of her. It seemed like ages had passed since another person had been sitting there, staring back at her. But she knew it hadn't been that long.

There were times, though, while going over case files or preparing a legal brief, when it felt like Jenna Marley was still in the room with her, watching her from the other side of the desk. On some occasions the feeling was so strong that Heather would actually look up half-expecting to see her old partner sitting across from her.

But all she ever found was an empty chair.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Heather looked up, impatience sweeping across her like a sudden blast of arctic wind.

"Yes?" she called out tersely.

The door opened.

Nora Cratchit was a competent paralegal. Not brilliant, by any means, but certainly competent. In her late twenties now, Nora had been right out of college when she had been hired. She was on the zaftig side, but not unattractively so, with dark hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders. Her assistant was dressed for the season in a cherry red sweater with a gold Christmas tree pendant pinned to the chest. Black slacks completed the outfit.

"Your three o'clock is waiting in the conference room," Nora informed her.

Heather checked her watch. It was quarter to three. She sighed. Early was better than late, she supposed. Since it was Christmas Eve, the attorney she was scheduled to meet with probably just wanted to wrap the meeting up quickly and get home. Or perhaps it was a tactic, designed to catch her unprepared? If that were the case, it wouldn't work. She could have had this meeting two hours ago or postponed it for another two hours and still have been just as ready to discuss the case in question as she was now.

Gathering paperwork off her desk, Heather left her office and headed for the conference room. It seemed like a waste of time to even have the meeting in the first place. The firm had been hired by the owner of a downtown high-rise eager to raze the building and sell the property to a developer. That meant evicting the tenants living in the building. Even though the owner was offering them all a generous compensation package--when he had no legal obligation to do so, Heather noted--the tenants wanted more time to get their affairs in order, time that would cost her client a small fortune. Heather advised her client against caving in to that demand. Why should he? He had been generous almost to a fault. And now these people wanted to milk him for more?

Apparently so. Because the tenants had gotten an attorney to represent them. How they managed to convince a lawyer to take on such a hopeless case Heather wasn't sure. But now that an attorney had been brought into this she had to deal with them, even if it was a nuisance. The law was clear, the agreements binding. Did the tenant's association think that by hiring a lawyer her client would be so intimidated that he would give them more time?

Maybe, Heather thought. She stopped just outside the conference room, her hand poised above the brass doorknob. Maybe her client could be intimidated. But she couldn't be. By the time this meeting was over Heather would make sure the opposing attorney knew that. She went in.

At first, Heather didn't recognize the woman seated at the large oval conference table. The woman looked fortyish. Long hair the color of fire framed a soft, attractive face. She wore a modest black skirt suit with ivory pinstripes that showed off a nice figure and pair of great legs. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar then Heather met the other woman's gaze, found gray-green eyes staring back at her, and realized with a shudder that she was looking at Maggie Duncan.

"It's been a long time, Heather," Maggie said, rising to meet her.

Hearing that voice again made the breath catch in Heather's throat. She willed herself to recapture the control and determination that seemed to have abandoned her just outside the door to the conference room.

"Hello Maggie," Heather replied coolly. She offered her hand as a professional courtesy, nothing more.

The redhead arched an eyebrow. "Don't I rate a hug?"

Heather didn't answer that, merely kept her hand held out until Maggie finally took it. Skin with no right to be so smooth after so long pressed into her palm, sending a jolt of energy through her. She quickly let go.

Taking the seat across from Maggie, Heather rested folded hands on top of the conference table and waited for Maggie to sit back down.

When Maggie was seated again she said, "Thank you for meeting me on Christmas Eve. I'll try not to take up too much of your time."

Heather started to point out that it didn't matter to her one way or another that it was Christmas Eve but stopped herself short. There really was no point reviving arguments that had grown stale more than fifteen years ago. She looked the redhead over thoughtfully.

Time had been good to Maggie Duncan. Oh, there were faint lines around her eyes now and a tightness to her lips that hadn't been there before. But it made her more attractive, not less. Maggie had been cute once; now she looked distinguished. It was a fair exchange.

"So you're the lawyer the tenant's association hired," Heather said.

Maggie smiled. "Well, hired might not be the most accurate choice of words. Let's just say I represent them."

"Still doing pro bono work," Heather said, shaking her head.

"When the cause is just."

Heather snorted. "This cause is lost. You've reviewed the files?"

"I have."

"Then you know your clients have no cause of action," Heather said.

Maggie leaned forward a little. "All my clients want is a little more time. Your client is asking them to completely uproot their lives."

"For which they've been compensated," Heather reminded her.

"Yes," Maggie said, "and it was a generous payoff. But it takes more than money to start over. Some of these people have lived in that building for so long they don't even know how to start over. They need more time."

Heather sighed. "You say that like time and money are two different things. But they aren't. Any delay, even a short one, could end up costing my client millions. Those people must vacate the premises by the date indicated in the compensation agreement. Failure to do so would be deemed a breech of contract. All payments would be void, and your clients would be liable for any and all costs my client incurs."

"Vacate the premises," Maggie repeated sourly. "Listen to yourself, would you? You're talking about forcing people out of their homes. Come on, Heather. It's Christmas!"

"The situation would be no different if it were the middle of July," Heather said.

Maggie stared across the table at her. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Don't start that again," Heather said. "We're not involved with each other anymore. I don't owe you any explanations. And even if I were interested in having that discussion, which I'm not, this is neither the time nor the place for it."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Maggie said. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Well, you've made your position very clear. You aren't going to give an inch. That's fine. Now let me tell you what my position is. You're right. Time is money. The longer this takes, the more money your client will lose. So here's what will happen. I'm going to drag this thing out as long as I can. I'll file motion after motion after motion to block your client's efforts to drive these people out of their homes. Will I win? Absolutely not. As you've pointed out, the contract is very clear. But I will be able to keep this tied up in court until your client doesn't have a dime left to pay your legal fees. Now, your client can either lose a little money and give these people the time they need, or he can lose a lot of money because you're being a hard ass. It's your choice, really."

Heather had her hands clasped together so tightly that her joints were starting to ache. She had long since perfected the art of keeping her expression neutral, a talent that served her well in court. But inside she was roiling with ... anger? Bitterness? She wasn't sure. Something gnawed at her, though.

"That was a nice speech," Heather said. "So, am I expected to just give in to your demands now?"

Maggie shook her head. "Nope. I know better than that. Take some time to think it over. But remember ... I'm not bluffing. I'll do everything I said I would."

"I'll be sure to relay that message to my client," Heather replied icily.

"You do that," Maggie said. "See? I told you I wouldn't take up too much of your time." When she got up to leave her expression softened a little. "Believe this or not, but it was good seeing you again, Heather. Merry Christmas."

Either Maggie didn't expect her to answer or was eager to leave because she hurried out of the conference room before Heather could respond. She leaned back in her chair and stared across the table, stared at the empty chair where Maggie had been sitting.

"Christmas is a humbug," Heather muttered.