Snowy days, steamy nights.
The Walshes are home for the holidays.
‘Twas the weekend before Christmas, when all through the North End
Not a Walsh had his life together, not even his friends;The parties were planned by the foodies with care,
In hopes that Wes and Erin would soon find their way there;
The men were stressing over last minute shopping lists and plans,
While the ladies were busy with work and nesting and finding the right paella pans;
When out in the dining room there arose such a clatter,
The Halsted dogs sprang from their beds to see what was the matter;
They whistled and shouted and called each other names,
While the secrets and announcements and surprises quickly came;
So onto another adventure they flew
With the sleigh full of Walshes, and the Commodore too—
As they continued arguing and clamoring around,
Down the road an unexpected visitor came with a bound;
But it wasn’t long until couples were all nestled snug in their beds,
With new memories of steamy holiday nights dancing in their heads.
this is what she knows for sure: spicy-ass salsa and tequila solve most
problems, living on the ocean–Pacific or Atlantic–is the closest place to
perfection, and writing smart, smutty stories is a better than any amount of
chocolate. She started out reporting for an indie arts and entertainment
newspaper back when people still read newspapers, and she has been writing and
surreptitiously interviewing people—be careful sitting down next to her on an airplane—ever
Canterbary and the Little Baby Canterbary, and when she isn’t writing sexy
architects, she’s scheduling her days around the region’s best food trucks.