A Holiday Short Collection: A Holiday Short, #5

A  HOLIDAY  SHORT

COLLECTION

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~  Lita  Locke  ~

A  HOLIDAY  SHORT  COLLECTION

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What happens when humans and mythological beings collide?

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What trouble is wrought by a jobless Cupid, a bunny-napped Easter Bunny, a ghost town full of ghosts and Santa, who isn’t as jolly as the stories make out?

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It’s up to April, Ashlynn, Audra and Alex to save Valentine’s Love, Easter Eggs, Halloween Scares and Christmas Presents.

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It’s a tall order, but along with some strange, sarcastic and sexy sidekicks, these women will save the day, right the wrongs and return life to normal—or as close to it as possible!

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Don’t miss their holiday adventures.

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This collection includes all 4 stories in the Holiday Short Series:

Valentine’s Day  —  The Cupid Curse

Easter  —  Funny Bunny Business

Halloween  —  Ghost Town

Christmas Wishes

A Holiday Short Collection

Copyright © Lita Locke 2018

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-  The Cupid Curse © 2014  -

-  Funny Bunny Business © 2014  -

-  Ghost Town © 2018  -

-  Christmas Wishes © 2013  -

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A Holiday Short Collection Cover by Angela Haddon Design

Original novella cover designs by Design for Writers

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Cover Credits:

Antique Etched-Style Cupid © Mike Elliott via Shutterstock

Easter Bunny with Egg © viewgene via Shutterstock

Halloween Background © katerinarspb via Shutterstock

Santa Claus holding a Christmas Gift © Mike Elliott via Shutterstock

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All rights reserved.

This e-book is under a limited electronic license.

Not to be resold, relicensed, reproduced, redistributed or transferred.

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This is a work of fiction.  All characters, names, businesses, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Contains moderate adult themes, humor and language.

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~  www.litalocke.com  ~

CONTENTS

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~ VALENTINE’S  DAY ~

~ EASTER ~

~ HALLOWEEN ~

~ CHRISTMAS ~

Read More

~ VALENTINE’S  DAY ~

THE

CUPID

CURSE

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(A Holiday Short)

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~  Lita  Locke  ~

MIDNIGHT  -  FEBRUARY 14

VALENTINE’S DAY

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You can’t be serious!

April stopped halfway up the steps to her house, her cell phone balanced between her shoulder and ear, her purse, piles of scripts and laptop clutched in her hands.  The dark cold night enveloped her, the icy frost and sparkling patches of snow now forgotten as she listened intently to the phone call.

Sorry, April, moaned the disembodied voice at the end of the line.  I wouldn’t joke about something as important as this.  And I wouldn’t call you this late either unless it was an absolute emergency.  You know that!

A sudden spasm of pain hit April right between the eyes and she knew she was developing another stress headache.  And she’d only gotten rid of the last one at lunchtime today.

What are we going to do? moaned the voice again.  It’s like we have a curse on us or something.

While her assistant always seemed to exhibit equal parts melodrama and neurosis—you didn’t survive in the television industry if you didn’t have either or a little bit of both—he was certainly right on this count.  Their TV show had been plagued with problems this whole season and the production was so far beyond the color pink in their pages, it wasn’t funny.  Which was why everything hinged on the success of their season finale tonight.  Jobs were on the line here, and not just hers!

We don’t have a curse on the show, that’s just superstitious theater talk.  This whole thing will be fine, this is no problem, April told him, trying to sound upbeat.  We’ll just get the understudy in.  That’s what they’re there for.  I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to step up and do the job.  Anyone would.

You’re right, Cameron, her assistant, sighed, the sound one of relief.  I’ll organize for him to be in the studio at noon today so he can run the lines and get the blocking right for tonight.  He’s got most of it down anyway.

April nodded, even though her assistant couldn’t see her do so.  She knew Cameron would get things done, now that he’d been told what to do, that was.  The guy was sweet but had the tendency to fall apart at the slightest technical difficulty.  It was amazing that he’d managed to stay in the business of show for this long actually!

Any other problems? April asked, as she searched through her purse for her keys.  Because if not, I need to really get some sleep.  These twenty hour days these last few weeks have almost killed me.

Yeah, I know what you mean, Cameron agreed, sounding more chipper now.  Once the finale is over with tonight, I’m going to hibernate like a winter bear for weeks and I won’t stir for a thing.

A smile touched April’s lips at the thought of pure, blissful and uninterrupted sleep.  If there was one thing in the world she needed more of right now, it was some of that.

See you at noon, oh and happy Valentine’s Day, boss, her assistant said before hanging up.

Ugh!

Valentine’s Day!

Dumping her belongings on the porch swing, April collapsed next to them and stared out at her yard and the empty, quiet street in front of her.  Oh why couldn’t she have a nice normal job with nice normal job-like hours?  Anyone who had any brains whatsoever was tucked up in bed this chilly February night, dreaming normal person dreams.  What kind of masochist got into showbiz and the film industry anyway?

The yellow twin beams of a car’s headlights traced the street, the sidewalk, the mailbox and the driveway next to her as the vehicle pulled up at the house next door.

Ah, okay.

There was another type of person who was out and about at this time of night.

She watched as the black shadow exited the car, the dark specter shutting the vehicle’s door quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping neighborhood or the hush of slumbering nature.  And then she continued watching as the figure jogged across the treacherous patches of ice and banks of snow between their yards until it was standing on the bottom of her front steps.

April?  Everything okay?  I saw you here as I drove past just then.

The figure moved into a stray moonbeam and April smiled, a puff of relief passing her lips.  Ah!  No supernatural deity or ghostly ghastly being here.  Just a man.  And just a neighbor.

Everything is fine, Doctor Cooke, she told her neighbor.

If everything is fine, why aren’t you inside?  And sleeping? he asked.

Even in this midnight light, she could see one of his eyebrows raise in a sardonic fashion and his lip curl up in that clever grin of his.

Sleep?  What’s that again? she teased.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and bounded up her steps, then leaned insouciantly on her porch, his back against the wood railing.

Yeah, I know what you mean, he muttered.  I could do with a ton of that myself.

Another late night delivery? April asked.

No, not this time.  I was at Miss Poole’s.  For Mister Whisker.

And how is the old thing?

The cat or the little old lady owner? Doctor Cooke teased, before his smile dropped.  The fluffy thing used up the last of his nine lives tonight.  There was nothing that could be done in the end.

Oh, I’m sorry, Ethan, sighed April.  Pushing her purse and stuff to one side, she patted the empty porch swing seat beside her.

Doctor Ethan Cooke hesitated for barely a second before coming to sit beside her, stretching out his long legs and placing his hands behind his head, his air reflective and a little bit sad.

Believe me, April.  The feline used his nine lives to the max.  I’ve never seen a cat get in to so many scrapes!

"Well, he wasn’t called Mister Whisker for nothing," April reminded him.  The cat had only one whisker left after all the fights, brawls and catcalls he’d taken part in.

How’s Miss Poole taking it? she asked.

Fairly well, considering she raised it from kittenhood.  But it’s never easy losing a patient, even one so old as that cat, Ethan said.

A small but comfortable silence fell between them as they each sunk in to their personal memories of Mister Whisker, a singularly extraordinary cat.  It had even appeared on television for many years, an animal actor in its own right, but that was before the tail arthritis and cat cataracts had set in.

Enough of the maudlin stuff, interrupted the vet, slapping his knees and turning to her.  How’s the producer gig going, Miss Hart?

The production life is as stressful as ever, April admitted.  But once tonight’s live season finale is over and done with, I’m going to book myself a vacation.  Somewhere sunny and warm, with alcoholic drinks served in hollowed out pineapples with little pink paper umbrellas.  I’m thinking Bahamas!

Mmm, Bahamas.  Good choice.  Unlike a live TV episode.  What the hell were you thinking? Ethan teased, the glint of white teeth flashing in the deep darkness.

I don’t know.  I don’t think I was thinking, to be honest, April told him.  But we had to do something crazy to trigger an announcement of a series renewal.  Budgets have been cut to the bone and the network is jettisoning programs like crazy.  We only need one more season to get syndication and we’re hoping this live episode will get us over the line.

Ethan chuckled, the sound smooth and sinful in the quiet night.

How’d you get in to the show business field anyway? he asked.  It’s not exactly a normal choice of career.

Humph, thanks a lot, she sniffed, pretending to be insulted.  Coming from a man who’s just been on a cat call.

Cute!

April giggled.  I try.  Anyway, I started out by managing my high school boyfriend’s garage rock band.

A success, was it?

"If you call playing at a local retirement village on Friday bingo nights and at one Schützenfest a success, then yes."

So what happened? Ethan asked.

They broke up over a chord.

Just the one?

Yup.  April shrugged.  He’s a banker now.

Still your boyfriend?

Nope.  But the experience gave me a taste of the power of telling people what to do.  It was only a short step to producer from there.

"And to running a sitcom called The Cupid Curse."

You watch it? she asked him, surprised by the revelation.

No, not really.  My receptionist plays it in the waiting room for the people patients and she swears by it.  Miss Poole too!  But I haven’t seen it myself.  Any good?

Well, it’s living up to its name right now, April groaned as she recalled the latest offset drama.  The man we cast to play the actual role of Cupid went and landed himself in a body cast instead!

Ouch.

Yeah!  The moron decided to do his own stunts this afternoon after rehearsal.  He was showing off on a skateboard, and everything was fine until he slammed into the side of the catering van.  So now it’s his understudy that’s going to be the star of our show.

Double ouch.

April shrugged.  This was the first time in the history of their show that the titular Cupid would actually be appearing—a one-off, live TV special on Valentine’s Day night that would draw in huge viewer numbers, and help the series secure syndication.  Except the idiot playing Cupid was in hospital with plaster up to his eyeballs.

I’m guessing your Cupid was a big name celebrity too? mused Ethan.

Oh, it’ll definitely make today’s papers.  And every hour upon the hour on TV too.  The network will see to that.

April tried not to sound too jaded.  What better way to capitalize on audience numbers than accident and tragedy?  The execs higher up would make sure to leak the news that the big shot actor had been ready to guest star in her live television episode.  This had record numbers of eyeballs written all over it.  Heck, it was made-for-TV viewing!

I try not to watch too much TV, Ethan teased.  "My mother warned me about getting square eyes.  And my grandma constantly reminds me that TV is brainwashing garbage.  Doesn’t seem to stop her from watching her daily stories though!"

Aw, soapies are good, clean fun, April joked.

Ethan chuckled, then stretched.  Standing up, he looked down at her on the porch swing.

"I really should go now.  I have to feed and check on my housebound animal patients, I’m sure they’re so hungry for food and starved for attention by now that they’ve torn my living room sofa to shreds.  And then, right on the heels of that, I’ve got a date