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360 pages, Paperback
First published November 19, 2019



"There's only one Kingsley."
"...You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren't allowed to be found, unless it's me doing the finding. And the only way you're allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn't belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion."



If you had any idea… Nico, if you knew how shitty fathers could be—trust me, I know all about shitty fathers—you would realize you won the father lottery, twice.



“There was life here, lurking behind the trees and inside the vines and under the ground and over the clouds. Life, biding its time, hiding, waiting…”
“He was Nico, not Nicolas. And she was Nora, not an Eleanor.”


♡
♡
He snorted the purest French snort, and the eyeroll he gave her should have been on the French flag.
“But I do clearly recall saying something along the lines of, ‘I’ll let you have Søren for a night if I can have Zach for a week.’ And thus the unholy deal was struck.” She giggled wickedly, the only way she ever giggled.
The kiss was soft and warm and deep and wet this time. A kiss that couldn’t be taken back. A kiss that had big plans for the night. A kiss that meant business.
Zach slouched in his chair, looking like the sexiest college professor in the long and storied history of sexy college professors.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ my review
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ my review
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ my review“Except that you’re so incredibly sadistic you make me feel almost vanilla in comparison.”










ARC provided in exchange for an honest review.
Did Reisz intentionally make this five stories so I could read one story a day from solstice to Christmas like an advent calendar? Probably so. ’Tis the season. Merry happy.
Serious question though, why is The Scent of Winter so good? (A: because The Prince is so good and it’s thirty-three years later.)
“It shouldn’t have been that simple, but it was. A little more light where before there was darkness. A little more beauty where before there was emptiness. All the bad things that were there before were still there, but at least there was one more small good thing in the world.”
- - -
Original review:
December Wine — What consistently gets me about Tiffany Reisz is her take on theology. The nativity at the end really really got to me.
The Christmas Truce — my favorite Christmas novella now, ousting Cecilia Grant from her spot. So thoroughly lovely with the triangle of friendships between Kingsley, Søren, and Nora.
Poinsettia — The ending touched a place inside me that’s still sore, years later, and it made me cry. See above re: Tiffany Reisz’s theology.
“Christ called the clergy hypocrites, but he dined with prostitutes. He would have liked you more than me. Even more, Christ would have loved you more than he loved me. I know this. It hurts me and humbles me to say it but it is true—you’re closer to God in your brothel than I am in my church. Jesus had a great fondness for women named Magdalena, after all.”
The Scent of Winter — okay no, this is my new favorite Christmas novella. The hawk and the hare.
Blood and Snow — this needed to be the bookend of December Wine. The two sides of the same story.
“Joy and terror—they’re twins, you know. Joy is born first. Then terror a few minutes after. Joy arrives when you recognize what you have. Terror comes on its heels, terror that you’ll lose the thing that gave you all that joy.”
“You think we should go upstairs now?” Kingsley asked. “Our lady probably fell asleep waiting on us to make up our cocks.”
“Our lady is probably at the top of the stairs eavesdropping on us,” Søren said.
“Am not!” Nora yelled down.
“You never kiss Caterina.”
“Kissing is for lovers,” Marcus said. “We’re friends only.”
“You flog her, cane her, cut her, burn her, and ejaculate on her back when you’re finished.”
“This is why I have so few friends.”
“I missed you,” Søren said. “And I…I ached for you. And not your friendship. I had that. I ached for you physically. I wanted you in bed again, on your knees again. I wanted to be inside you again. I wanted to own you again.”
Kingsley inhaled again. “I love the scent of winter,” he said. “I love the scent of winter enough to suffer the cold for it.”