by V. P. Trick
A bath, some wine, and a massage were all she wished. But he wanted to take her to his ancestral land, the two of them alone, strolling the streets in-between bouts of lovemaking. I know what I want for Christmas, he said. A novel. From you to me. All mine, Angel.
How did they end up here, amongst his dysfunctional family? And let’s not forget the ghosts, old and new. This is all on you, Big guy.