A Stag Family Christmas

The weather outside is frightful this Christmas, and the heat is on for the Stag Brothers. Caramel sauce isn’t the only sticky mess for these broody brothers, who each face challenges in love and life.

Timber Stag led his family and his law empire with the same stern hand until Alice stumbled into his life. Just when he learns to relax and enjoy the cocoa, everything unravels. Tim’s right-hand woman, his sister-in-law Juniper, opts to leave Stag Law, and each of Tim’s brothers skates on thin ice at home. Tim needs a Christmas miracle to help put everyone back together again.

Thatcher Stag had worked his way off the naughty list and settled down with Emma, but when a health scare rocks Emma to her core, Thatcher needs help navigating the fog.

Meanwhile, Tyrion Stag seems to be on Santa’s nice list. He’s got the perfect wife, a stellar pro hockey career…but the thrill of the road seems to have lost its luster. Ty feels torn when hockey pulls him from his family, and he needs a star to guide him this Christmas.

This rollicking adventure follows our favorite family through a holiday season bursting with action. Emotions run high, the pressure cooker is on, and a snowy Christmas Eve changes the Stag family forever.

A Stag Family Christmas picks up where the previous books left off, with all the steamy passion you’ve come to love, but can still stand alone for new readers. Jump into the fast-pace series readers are calling a delightful, intriguing roller coaster that’s equal parts funny, sweet and heart wrenching. Don’t worry—all Lainey Davis lovers get their Happily Ever After eventually!

I hate when the phone rings while I'm blowing glass. It messes up my concentration. In my haste to answer and set down my work, I drop my damn cell phone. But my assistant, Cody, is bellowing so loud I can hear him anyway. "Dude, you better get over here," he shouts. 

"Where the hell are you, Code?" I wipe my hands on my jeans and pick up the phone so I can hear him better. I switch off the radio, too. They’re already playing Christmas music. In late October! “What’s that, Cody?”

"I'm in the fucking tattoo shop, like I said, and I mean it. You'd better get here. Stat." I sigh and look at my watch. It's three. If I leave my studio now, for whatever the hell Cody needs, I wont' be able to get back into my creative zone before Emma gets home from work. Before we lived together, I’d just work all night long if I had inspiration. What the hell did I care? But now I actually enjoy spending time outside of my glass studio. My girl has taught me a lot about loving life, and usually it shows up in my art. I’ve been busy enough to bring Cody on full-time. 

Emma hates how much I've been working lately, but I've got orders out the ass from people wanting Christmas gifts and private lessons and all that shit I hate about the business side of Stag Glass. I really can’t swing an impromptu trip to the tattoo parlor. “I don’t know, Cody. I’m working here.” 

About a year ago, one of the top architects in Pittsburgh commissioned me to create a custom piece of glass for his new bar, and to make all the damn glassware he'd need to serve drinks. Ever since then, people are beating down my door for highballs and shot glasses, and wanting date-night glass-blowing classes where I serve wine. I keep telling my agent I'm not an Ikea. She keeps smiling and handing me contracts. 

“Thatcher, I swear to god, you need to see this.” Cody hangs up on me.

"Motherfucker," I growl, shutting the furnace and flicking off the lights. I'll have to come back to work after Emma goes to bed. I rub my hands through my hair while I wait for my truck to warm up. It's been abnormally cold this fall, and the engine sputters a bit in my beat up old Ranger. Better than walking, I think, shifting into gear and heading toward my old neighborhood. 

I plan to spend as little time as possible dealing with Cody’s crisis so I can get back in time to give Emma a ride home from work. She can’t drive because of her epilepsy, even though she’s been seizure-free for a long time. I used to live in an old industrial neighborhood that wasn’t walking distance to anywhere. Relocating close to Emma was the last I could do, considering she walks everywhere, all the time.

I don't think she took enough layers along today to walk home in subfreezing wind gusts. I shoot Emma a text that I'll be waiting for her in the parking lot when she gets done with her meeting, and then I open the door to see what kind of trouble is brewing at Green Mamba Tattoo. I figure Cody changed his mind halfway through a neck tattoo or something. I've had my fair share of ink regret. Green Mamba is pretty good at transforming mistakes into mystique.

Cody meets me inside, where I raise an eyebrow at him and he yanks me behind the privacy curtain. "Thatcher. Look." He points, and I see my brothers' wives giggling, leaning over a binder of designs. And then, holy shit. There's my girl. Emma Cheswick, my previously untattooed girlfriend, stands right with them. 

"What the hell is going on here, Chezz?” I bark out. “I thought you had a meeting." Hearing my voice, she whips her red head around and drops her jaw. Juniper and Alice peek over her shoulder, register my presence, and then look at each other and laugh. 

Emma coughs. "Well," she says, blushing. "I'm meeting the girls here. They're getting the Stag family tattoo." Years ago, I designed a tattoo and my brothers and I all came here to get it on my eighteenth birthday. The tattoo is a silhouette of a stag leaping over mountain laurel, in honor of our mother, Laurel Stag. Mom died in a car crash when we were kids, and we've all got the tattoo on our chest, above our heart. 

For me, it was the first of many, many tats. I’m not so sure how Ty and Tim will feel about their wives getting the family ink, but the idea of my girl doing it turns me the hell on. 

"Are you getting it, too?" I step forward and grasp Emma's hand, my voice quiet.  The idea of her laying a permanent claim to me, right on her skin…shit. I rub her palm with my thumb, imagining her milk-white skin in contrast to the black ink.

Emma shakes her head, her eyes sad. "I'd want to talk to Dr. Khalsa about it first," she says. Emma’s neurologist is a top-notch researcher and has helped her keep all her symptoms in check. She hasn't had a seizure since we first met. She points a thumb at Alice, Tim's wife, who has now hopped up on the table and removed her sweater. "The girls just asked me to come along while they got inked," Emma says. She frowns at me. "It's supposed to be Stag-women only, but Cody wandered in and spilled the beans." 

Emma tilts her head to the side and makes a sexy, pouty face at me. "You wouldn't call your brothers and spoil the surprise, would you, Thatchy?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Jesus, Emma. Do not call me Thatchy ever again." She laughs. I look at the transfer the artist is about to stick on Alice, and furrow my brow. "That's not my design."

Alice beams, and sucks in her breath as the alcohol wipe hits her shoulder blade. She pulls her tank top to the side a bit to give more access and tells me that she asked the artist to make some tweaks. I squint a little closer and see Alice added a baby deer curled up next to its father. "I added Petey," she says, smiling when she says my nephew's name. "There's plenty of space for more little fawns, too."

I draw Emma in for a kiss, appreciating how much my family all supports each other. These women don’t have to love us, but they’re here for us. And for each other, apparently. 

This connection and warmth is so different from what we grew up with. After our mother died, our father was drowning in grief and depression. He turned to booze, and walked out on us, leaving teenaged Timber to raise me and Tyrion. It's taken Alice years to soften Tim up around the edges, and I love her twist on the tattoo. "I think you're a bad-ass mama Stag, Alice," I say, patting her leg. She winces as the needle starts to vibrate, but she grits her teeth and smiles at me. "Emma, you sticking around?"

She nods as Juniper clings to her arm. "I've got to talk this one out of leaving," Emma says. "Honestly, I don't know how someone could train hard enough to win an Olympic medal at rowing, but feel scared of a tiny little needle."

Juniper glares at Emma. "You don't get to make these comparisons until you're facing that giant needle gun yourself, madam!" 

I make eyes with the tattoo artist—he's done at least six of my tats—and wink. "Listen, Em, how about I go for a walk and leave you to your meeting. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, and I'm sure both Juniper and Alice will be long done by then. Want me to bring you anything?"

She grins and asks me to pick something at the bakery to surprise her. I wish I'd thought to offer that. I kiss her forehead and fist-bump Cody on my way out. Turns out he's still fully committed to his neck tattoo.

* * *

I decide to get a box of macarons for everyone, wondering again why I hadn’t thought to offer. My brothers seem to fall into family life so naturally. Once they fell for their women, that was it. They were all in. I always need to be reminded how to open up to Emma, trust her. Moving in with her was a big gesture for me. Knowing she didn’t get the tattoo today makes me worry it wasn’t enough. 

Alice and Juniper are fully clothed and inked when I deliver the treats. Emma seems a little off, so I usher her out to the truck. "Ready to go home, babe?" She shakes her head. 

"Can you take me back to work? I want to push through something I'm revising."

"You sure? It's really fucking cold out there. Why not write from home and let me warm you up?" I'm still worked up at the mental image of Emma getting a tattoo, and, frankly, I can't wait to get close to her skin, inky or not. 

I slide a hand up her thigh, but feel her stiffen. Hmm, not good. I withdraw my hand and look at her. "What's wrong?"

She huffs. Shit. What did I do? "You asked me if I'm getting the STAG FAMILY tattoo. But I'm not a Stag, am I, Thatcher?"

"Of course you are, Chezz. What are you talking about?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not. I'm not a Stag. I'm your live-in girlfriend."

“Shit, Emma. You know you mean everything to me. I’m trying really hard here.”

She rolls her eyes. “I think I’m convenient for you, is what I am.”

“How can you say that? I moved my whole studio so I could be with you. So I could be supportive of your job.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful of your sacrifice?” Her eyes flare and she looks really angry. 

I rake my fingers through my long hair again. I guess my suspicions were right, but I didn’t know Emma was this upset about the direction of our relationship. “I want to make a life with you, Emma. I want you to want the Stag family tattoo.”

Emma starts crying then, and I know things are worse than I thought. “Why didn’t you talk to me before you were this upset?”

“I didn’t know I was this upset until everyone else was getting the Stag brand and I felt left out.”

“Should I go back and ask Jason to ink you up real quick?” Emma snorts at that suggestion. I seize upon this tiny gesture and press on. “Or do you want me to tattoo your name on my ass? I would, you know, Chezz.”

I slam the truck into first gear outside our building and yank on the e-brake. I look over at Emma, ready to keep hashing this out, but she's gone gray and clammy. "Emma?" She reaches out a hand and squeezes my arm, but her body goes stiff and her muscles begin to twitch. "Emma!" 

She's having a seizure. Shit, shit, shit. I can't remember what to do. It's been awhile since we talked through this possibility. 

Her body slumps over and stills. I unbuckle my seat belt and grab her phone from her coat pocket. Unlocking it, I dial up her neurologist and try to suppress my panic.