And a nice man-chest doesn't hurt, either.
This is the only Christmas story I've ever written -- actually, it's a category-length novel -- and I like it a lot. Mrs. Claws is sweet and funny. Even the sex is sweet and often funny: no netherlips, no engorged body parts or oozing juices. The hero and heroine are in their forties. A dwarf (as in little person) serves as both nemesis and matchmaker. In addition, the story includes a couple of icky exes, a damned nice son, a bevy of meddlesome girlfriends, an obnoxious kid who gets his comeuppance, and a nifty set of false fingernails.
Just in case I've managed to pique your curiosity, here's a blurb. You can find the book at Cerridwen Press by clicking on the post title.
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What’s a female Grinch to do when the holidays are fast approaching, and all she has to celebrate is the fact her husband has left her for a twit and she's dated sixteen -- no, make that seventeen -- losers since her divorce? She can apply for a job playing Mrs. Santa Claus, of course! And what happens when one of those seventeen losers is playing Santa opposite her, at a huge shopping mall no less? Well, it ain't pretty. In Mrs. Claws, or The Nightsweats Before Chirstmas Lauren Elizabeth Rose Snyder Rose struggles to maintain her sanity, do her job, reclaim some Christmas spirit . . . and, just maybe, find love in the process.