North Star, Yule Lads 2 by TA Moore

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: North Star, Yule Lads 2

Author: TA Moore

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Cover Artist: Tammy Moore

Release Date:  December 15, 2024

Pairing: MM

Tense/POV: third person/alternating POV

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Tropes: Opposites attract, Secret lovers, Us against the World, Tough Guy in Soppy Love

Themes: Family is what you make it, Love Languages

Heat Rating: 4 flames    

Length: 50 000 words/ 130 pages

It is the sequel to True North. It does not end on a cliffhanger.

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Dylan Hollie saved Christmas, not that he can tell anyone about it.

Blurb

Dylan Hollie saved Christmas, not that he can tell anyone about it. 

Now all he has to worry about is finding out who killed the previous Santa and set everything in motion.

It should be easy enough. He's got plenty of suspects. Between Santa's ambitious relatives, who all think they could do a better job of filling out the red suit, and the impenetrable mire of Winter Court politics there were more people who wanted the jolly man dead than alive.

Right now the prime suspects are the Yule Lads. Santa's magically contracted bodyguards; the Lads have been at this too many centuries to fail so comprehensively all at once.

Dropped into the middle of this, in a world he'd never believed in, Dylan has to try and work out who to trust, and that maybe the answer is no-one.

He'd also like to know if Santas ever retire. The benefits are good, and the health insurance is insane, but he definitely doesn't want to be Santa this year! 

Excerpt 

“Just to be clear, it’s not a Christmas party,” the dark-haired man said as he ushered the two paramedics off the lift and onto the floor belonging to Demre and Hill Finances. “It’s an end-of-year celebration.”

Nobody had asked.

Dylan hefted his jump bag up onto his shoulder and cocked his head to one side as he looked the man up and down. 

“Huh,” he said.

Normally he would be all for a non-denominational December. Not everything had to be about Christmas. In fact, right now, the less he heard about it the better. That said, it seemed a little disingenuous to make that claim on the twenty-first of December while wearing a Santa suit.

The man was self-aware enough to look awkward as he adjusted the fur-lined collar of his suit. He flushed and pulled the fake beard down under his chin. The elastic dug into his ears.

“This was…for the children,” he said.

Dylan glanced at his watch. The second hand ticked along inexorably as the date on the face quivered a minute away from clicking over to the twenty-second. 

“Really?” he asked.

Alice stepped past him

“You’ve made his day,” she said cheerfully. “He hates Christmas.”

The man preened just a little under her attention. Alice tended to have that effect on people. Sometimes Dylan wondered what the fact they’d been made partners said about him.

“I don’t hate Christmas,” Dylan responded on autopilot. “It just shouldn’t start in—”

“August. I know,” Alice said. She gave the not-Santa a megawatt smile and rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. “That’s how long he’s been complaining about the Dollar Store having reindeer dog toys in stock. So what’s the problem? Your call said someone had an accident?”

The man started to answer, stopped himself, and pulled a dubious face.

“I guess?” he said. “You kind of have to see for yourself.”

He gestured for them to follow him and headed across the lobby toward the smoked glass doors that led the way into the Demre and Hill’s offices. Dylan leaned over to mutter to Alice as they started after him.

“You don’t see Easter eggs in October.”

She jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Give it a rest.”

Fine. Dylan gestured his surrender and stretched his legs to catch up with Not-Santa as the man held the doors open for them. The speaker-distorted sound of the latest poppy Christmas hit spilled out through the gap, saccharine sweet and quick paced.

“It’s Spotify,” Not-Santa said defensively before Dylan could even hitch an eyebrow. 

It might be. That wasn’t enough to help his case, though. Maybe he could pass the colored paper chains off as a craft project, but the six-foot decorated spruce in the middle of the office would be hard to pass off as anything but Christmas. 

If Not-Santa wanted to live in denial, though…far be it from Dylan to burst his bubble.

“Can you give us any idea what happened?” he prodded instead.

As they headed through the office, the deflated-looking partygoers shuffled awkwardly out of their way. One of them caught a glare from Not-Santa and quickly pulled the paper crown off his head to stuff in his pocket.

About the Author

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

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