OMG, I loved this book so much! I’m a huge fan of A E Ryecart’s books and this one just might take first place for me now (but I still love the Barista Boys). This book hit me in the feels everywhere; it broke my heart in places and then put it back together again. Please read the blurb, it’s good.

A Kiss Before Christmas has lots of hurt/comfort to it and a fake boyfriend angle. I practically bawled my eyes out in a couple of places (but that means I really loved it) for the things that Rory faced before Jack found him.

Don’t think that it’s all angsty, though, as there were some places that I burst out laughing. When Rory encounters Jack’s former boyfriend, Sam:

“Hello again. It’s Stan, isn’t it?”

Rory beamed what he hoped was his widest, brightest smile as he put out his hand. Sam looked at it as if he were being offered fresh turd on toast. Rory refused to drop his hand, forcing Sam into responding to the greeting with a limp touch of palms.

“No, it’s not. My name’s Sam.”

I know, dickhead.

And just a bit later:

Rory wrapped the fingers of his free hand around Jack’s, bringing their entwined hands to his lips for a small kiss. From under his lashes, he glanced across at Sam. Oh God, it looks like he’s straining for a shit. Sam was red-faced, his features tight and screwed up in a deep frown. Rory’s stomach started to ache as he struggled to hold his laughter in.

I can’t recommend this Christmas novella enough. Ms. Ryecart, your first Christmas story is a winner!

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Jack swung around. “Wait.”The kid stopped and looked back over his shoulder, his body braced against the buffeting snow.

What am I doing?It was madness, but the feeling that he was kicking a puppy or leaving a kitten in a bag to die, weighed on Jack.

“You can come upstairs and have a have a cup of tea while you wait out the worst of the weather.” What the hell have I just done?

The kid shifted his weight from one already soaked foot to the other. “No, but thanks. I’ve caused you enough bother already. And you gave me some money – thank you. I’ll go—”

“I might be able to run to a sandwich as well.” What next? A bed for the night?

“I don’t know. . .”

“Well, make your mind up, and do it now. I’m not standing out here freezing my bollocks off for much longer. A cup of tea and a sandwich is the offer, and then you’re on your way. Take it or leave it.”

Jack turned and unlocked the door, the warmth from the hallway a welcome caress against his cold skin. It had been a rash offer but a good one on a night like this. Well, the kid had turned it down, so he’d have to take his chances on the streets.

“Yes. Please. If you’re sure?”

Jack looked over his shoulder. The wind had picked up, and huge snowflakes swirled around. Enough snow had already fallen to cover the black-and-white-tiled path, and it wouldn’t be long before there was a whole lot more. Jack jerked his head, and the boy retraced his steps, following Jack inside and up the stairs.

“No offence, but you really smell.” The words tumbled from Jack’s mouth, his nose wrinkling as he closed the door to his top-floor flat. The kid had only just walked over the threshold, but he was already stinking the place out. In the cold, outdoor air, Jack hadn’t smelled the tangy, ripe aroma but up close and in the warm. . . He sniffed and coughed as his throat closed up. Christ, it was horrible. He’d offered food and drink, but a shower was top of the list.

“Sorry, but I’ve run out of my usual cologne, so I’ve had to splash on Eau de Homeless.”

Jack froze, his arms half in, half out of his coat sleeves. He stared down at the stranger, the stinking, smelly stranger he’d let into his home. And what was the kid doing? Giving him lip. Which Jack knew he deserved. He carried on peeling off his coat and hung it on a hook on the wall. Yep, he’d deserved the comeback because he hadn’t been exactly tactful.

“Sorry. That was a bit – well, you know.” Jack glanced at the kid, but the brief flare of spirit had been doused, leaving him as cowering as he had been on the doorstep. “Look, I’ll sort you out a towel and some clean clothes. I’ve got some old clothes I was going to take to the charity shop, but you might as well have them. I’ll get you a spare razor, too.” Old enough for dark scruff to shadow his skin, Jack thought, so maybe not such a kid after all. Jack turned away, then stopped. A vital piece of information had been omitted.

“I’m Jack, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Rory.”