Ex Libris

BTS Tours and Freya’s Bower are proud to present the Santa’s Little Helper Scavenger Hunt. 32 blogs have linked together to allow you to hunt for 32 different words that will be hidden in each post, so at the end of the hunt you will have 32 answers to plug into the rafflecopter. Please DO NOT leave your answers in the comment section. We want this to be fun for everyone, and not take the challenge out of the game. So this is how it works.

All the blogs listed below will post their game piece on their allotted date. You are looking for one word (related to Christmas or Sex) to plug into the rafflecopter as your answer. For Example:'

If you are on Close Encounters with the Night Kind, and find your word (clues will be provided for you in the banner) you log into the rafflecopter form and place your answer in the box marked Close Encounters of the Night Kind. Follow along the entire Scavenger Hunt and collect all 32 clues.

We will be drawing for 4 $25 dollar Gift Certificates to Freya’s Bower. Happy Hunting!!!

John Brennon is at the end of his rope. His career is on the rocks, and his love life has died along with his unborn child. He finds small comfort with other mourners on a cold stone bench in a tiny cemetery where the overgrown gardens and tangled bushes echo his mood.

Kyle has decided it's time to bury his own past, and do some spring cleaning in his life, and he's going to start with the lonely, disheveled man occupying space in his graveyard. One small misunderstanding might just nip their chances in the bud, however, when John's ex girlfriend interrupts their first date.

The man perched on the far end of the concrete bench, his hands stuffed deep into his parka pockets. "Came to empty the house out and sell it after Gran died. These things are never as simple as all that, though, are they?"

John shuffled his feet, and sought out the warmth of fleece pockets for his own chilled fingers. "Guess they can be complicated." He glanced across the bench to the stranger helping himself to his space.

Another gust of wind picked up the man's unruly curls and dragged them in front of his deep, brown eyes. He pushed his fingers through the thick locks. "I really came to escape, I suppose. The house was just an excuse. When I got here, it was nice to think I could hide out from a failed relationship and a business I suddenly hated."

"Oh." John wasn't sure why the guy was telling him this. Something about cemeteries made people open up, he supposed. It wasn't the first time someone had wandered over to his bench to share their story. He shifted his weight, freeing a foot to kick at the fallen twigs and clear a bare patch of earth. The damp, brown scent of it reminded him why he loved this time of year. "Did it work?"

"Work?"

"Hiding out? Did you escape anything?"

"What's to escape? Mark left me. The business runs itself." His shoulder lifted, his fingers crawled through tangled curls, and then he shoved his hand back into his pocket, leaving the hair flopped in front of his face. "My own life doesn't seem to need me all that much."

"Now that is depressing." And familiar, John thought.

"Tell me about it."

"So this Mark guy—"

"I'm gay."

This, blurted halfway through John's question, brought the awkward quirk of a long-forgotten smile to his face, and he held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm John."

The man blushed, pink tinting his rugged features. "Kyle." He took John's hand in a calloused grip and shook it firmly, despite the flush of colour in his cheeks.

The contrast riveted John's attention, and his expression brightened, stretching the mask he'd worn for such a long time. "So. This Mark guy left a handsome, successful business man because...? He's blind and foolish?"

The shrug—this time pulling Kyle in on himself a little bit–also pulled his hand free. John almost leaned forward to chase after it, wanting to offer comfort. Kyle's voice dropped. "Mostly because commitment and fidelity aren't his things." He grinned a tight little grin John thought seemed more like nerves playing across his face. It looked terribly familiar. He'd seen it in the mirror enough times lately. "And because he's a blind fool. I hope."

"From here, I'd say yeah. Blind. Complete fool." Wow. Now that sounded like a line, but John couldn't bring himself to regret uttering it.

Kyle relaxed a fraction. "Who says lines don't work?" he asked softly, glancing sideways at John.