Midwinter Night's Dream

Thanks to my beta readers Kate Rothwell, Jamie Fessenden, RJ Scott, Pam Ebeler, and Karen Ostrowski. I appreciate your kicking my ass to add a few new scenes!

As always, thanks and Merry Christmas to my husband Robert and girl child Rals.

Cover by the fabulous Reese Dante.

From Dreamspinner Press

Superhero

Puzzle Me This

The Trouble With Tony (Sex in Seattle #1)

The Enlightenment of Daniel (Sex in Seattle #2)

The Mating of Michael (Sex in Seattle #3)

A Prairie Dog’s Love Song

Heaven Can’t Wait

The Lion and the Crow

From Eli Easton

Before I Wake

Blame it on the Mistletoe

Unwrapping Hank

How to Howl at the Moon

How to Walk Like a Man

www.elieaston.com

Readers Love Eli

For “Unwrapping Hank”

“Queen of the sexual tension, she makes us wait for the love scenes…. When the sex arrives it’s always hot and deliciously satisfying and in my opinion all the more sizzling for the delay.” -
Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews

“Easton masters effective and persuasive writing, her style natural and smooth. Dialogue is realistic, the story doesn’t linger inside people’s heads for too long, and the narrative grabs you until you find yourself turning pages, unwilling to stop until the very last line.” –
Joyfully Jay

“I love Eli Easton’s books and this one is just the right book to sit with the Christmas tree and lose yourself in. Funny, endearing, happy, loving, and it left me smiling like an idiot.” –
author RJ Scott

For “The Mating of Michael”, Rainbow Award Winner for Best Contemporary Gay Romance 2014

“Hot, sexy, and emotional…. DAMN, Eli Easton just NAILED this one and she nailed it HARD!!” –
My Fiction Nook

“I couldn’t put this story down. The characters were richly developed, and the story was well thought out and enjoyable.” –
Swept Away By Romance

“The story just plucks at every darn heart string and leaves you with a huge smile on your face, after you’ve gotten done crying, of course.”
The Kimichan Experience

For “Blame it on the Mistletoe”, M/M Goodreads Group award winner

“I got hooked on the story and could not keep that goofy smile off my face.” –
Head Out of the Oven Blog

“This is a wonderful little gem of a holiday story. I enjoyed every moment I got to spend with these beautiful boys.” –
Gaylist

“The genuine fondness, admiration, and eventually love that these two feel for each other really jump off the page. I was hooked from beginning to end” –
Mrs. Condit and Friends

Published by Pinkerton Road

Pennsylvania, USA

First edition, November, 2015

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www.elieaston.com

Midwinter Night’s Dream

© 2015 Eli Easton

Cover Art by Reese Dante

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution.

Please do not loan or give this ebook to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means.

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~1~

Micah

"I predict that tonight is the night Micah Springfield finally falls in love. And the magic eight ball says…" Sloane shook the black paperweight with vigor and held it up. "The spirits agree! Ca-
ching
!"

I was squeezing my long dreads with a towel to dry them. I made a
pfft
sound. "Oh yeah? Well,
my
magic eight balls say: 'Odds are against it.'"

Sloane waggled his finger at me. "See! That just proves it. Because you always have to say something like that
hours
before you fall into the abyss. It's the Rule of Famous Last Words."

"You're goin' out with that theater chick, right?" Hank asked. My baby brother was slouched all over my bed, as usual, paying half-assed attention to the conversation as he read on the tablet Mom and Dad had gotten him for his birthday. It was probably some book on Eastern Philosophy. My butch-looking, muscle-bound baby bro was a regular Joseph Campbell.

"Yeah. Her name is Yasmine."

"Like I said, the theater chick. She's hot."

The lack of any real enthusiasm in his voice saved him from having the magic eight ball lobbed at his head. Still, Sloane made a face. "Excuse me? Beloved?"

Hank glanced up at his boyfriend and looked sheepish. "I mean… for a girl. If you're into that sort of thing. Which I'm not."

"No fighting or making out in my room. House rules," I reminded them with my
I-mean-it
voice. Because spontaneous eruptions of either, or both, were always a risk when Sloane and Hank were in the same room in the Delta Sigma Phi house. "And yes, Yasmine is hot. She's also very nice."

It was only a little bit strategic when I started up my blow dryer, cutting off further conversation.

Honestly, I was over how much time the dreads took to maintain. They'd gotten so long, they were almost down to my waist. They looked totally rad. And at this point, I'd had them so long, they were part of who I was—
Micah, the guy with the dreads
. I resisted cutting them off because, fuck it, I didn't want to look like everybody else. And people more or less knew where I was coming from before I ever opened my mouth.
That liberal, hippy guy.
And it was true, so it saved a lot of energy on my part. But the dreads were a pain in the ass to dry.

I was only wearing a towel, and my gaze roamed over my pale chest in the mirror while my hands were on autopilot doing the hair. Yasmine Armand. She was biracial and had beautiful carmel-colored skin, green eyes, and a light brown fro with braids. She was tall and slender, graceful-looking. She liked to wear African influenced clothes and jewelry, especially long tie-dyed skirts. And she was artsy. She was a junior majoring in Theater Arts.

She was, in other words, exactly my type.

This was our first actual date, but she'd been interested in me for months. She'd finally gotten tired of waiting for me to ask her out and invited me to a party tonight. I let girls chase me. I didn't get worked up about much of anything, except, maybe, stuff that related to my frat. I was president of the Delts, and the house was important to me. But otherwise, life is too short, you know? I like a girl in my bed as much as the next guy, but drama of any size, shape, or form—that I can do without. Besides, why expel effort when you don't have to? Women's lib, man. Let ’em fly the flag, pay their own way, show their nipples, have boy toys, and do the heavy lifting when it comes to relationships. I was 100 percent down with all that.

Behind me in the mirror, I saw Sloane wander over to my bed and flop down beside Hank. Hank looked up from his tablet, and they stared into each other's eyes. I could feel the sexual tension charge the air, so thick it nearly short-circuited my hair dryer. Oh for fuck's sake.

I shut off the dryer long enough to say, "Hey! No making out in my room."

Without a word, Sloane and Hank got up, their eyes already glazed over with lust. I laughed as the door slammed behind them.