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    The Dickens with Love
    The Dickens with Love
    The Dickens with Love
    Ebook139 pages1 hour

    The Dickens with Love

    By Josh Lanyon

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    Three years ago, a scandal cost antiquarian book hunter James Winter everything that mattered to him: his job, his lover, and his self-respect. But now the rich and unscrupulous Mr. Stephanopoulos has a proposition. A previously unpublished Christmas book by Charles Dickens has turned up in the hands of an English chemistry professor by the name of Sedgwick Crisparkle. Mr. S. wants that book at any price -- and he needs James to get it for him. There's just one catch. James can't tell the nutty professor who the buyer is.

    Actually, two catches because the nutty Professor Crisparkle turns out to be totally gorgeous -- and on the prowl. Faster than you can say "Old Saint Nick," James is mixing business with pleasure -- and in real danger of forgetting that this is just a holiday romance.

    (previously published through Samhain Publishing)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJosh Lanyon
    Release dateNov 24, 2017
    ISBN9781945802225
    Author

    Josh Lanyon

    Author of 100+ titles of Gay Mystery and M/M Romance, Josh Lanyon has built a literary legacy on twisty mystery, kickass adventure, and unapologetic man-on-man romance. Her work has been translated into twelve languages. She is an EPIC Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist (twice for Gay Mystery), an Edgar nominee, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads All Time Favorite M/M Author award.

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    Reviews for The Dickens with Love

    4/5

    83 ratings8 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Sometimes it is a nice thing when a book is short, just a novella or a short story because only the most important parts of a character are depicted. James, in his solitude after being involved in a murder case, lost all his wealth but is about to receive a splendid gift. Yes, this is a Christmas story with a happy ending. Read it because it ought to touch you!
    • 4/5
      A good story, but it has a rushed ending which left a few details unanswered.
    • 4/5
      I love Josh Lanyon and so it was a happy early Christmas present to find this as a kindle freebee. A freebee from a known, reputable writer is always a thing of joy. So 4 stars for that. It lost half a star because it was actually not my favorite of his works, and it wasn't as believable as his previous works. I didn't fall in love with either of the two protagonists - James the disgraced antiquarian or Sedgewick, the unlikely book owner. Nor did I find the reason for Sedgewick's hatred for the evil potential book buyer sufficiently compelling. So weaker on both plot and characterization, but a weak Lanyon is still a strong book, and certainly worth a read (or reread)
    • 4/5
      A fun holiday romp! A little rushed, but my guess is that that was to keep it at novella length. I also pictured Sedge as Henry Cavill, so that helped. ;) I couldn't tell if this was a standalone story or part of a series, as James had a backstory that easily could have been referencing previous books.

      Sedge's problem with Mr. S could have used a more developed/believable explanation. And, well, boy did these guys fall in love fast! But I suppose that's also the point of the Christmas love story.
    • 5/5
      This holiday novella is a total and complete delight. A tender m/m romance with also a tense little mystery underneath. James's and Sedge's story is so deliciously prepared and served that you can almost smell and taste it! The idea of a long-lost Christmas story by Charles Dickens is intriguing and fascinating. Josh Lanyon's story has all the elements to make a wonderful holiday tale, and more. After all Christmas is the time for get-togethers, laughter, peace and love, but it's also the time of stress, loneliness, bitterness and grief. This story was a hopeful one and it left me smiling happily for the rest of the day. It was all about faith, hope and love...those truly were gifts that really matter...wrapped in gold and white paper with heralding angels and tied up with a big red bow. This book just might become a Christmas tradition for me. I'll bet its magic will work every single time...and can't we all use a little magic?
    • 5/5
      I don't normally read Christmas books because they don't appeal and to me it seems like a band that suddenly releases a Christmas album and you know it's just for the money. Not that I am saying that is what was being done here, not at all, but that is my reasoning for avoiding most Christmas stories.

      Having said that, I loved this book! I was immediately, completely drawn into James' world. The story is so well balanced the humor mixed with the sadness and stress of the season, just when it is needed. Both James and Sedgwick’s loneliness, born of different experiences, made the story all the more touching.

      A delightful sweet read that will leave you smiling and, perhaps, as it did for me, wanting to explore more of Dickens’ Christmas stories (unfortunately not The Christmas Cake).
    • 4/5
      A quirky holiday romance about Faith, Hope, and…er…glow-in-the-dark condoms!Three years ago, a scandal cost antiquarian “book hunter” James Winter everything that mattered to him: his job, his lover and his self-respect. But now the rich and unscrupulous Mr. Stephanopoulos has a proposition. A previously unpublished Christmas book by Charles Dickens has turned up in the hands of an English chemistry professor by the name of Sedgwick Crisparkle. Mr. S. wants that book at any price, and he needs James to get it for him. There’s just one catch. James can’t tell the nutty professor who the buyer is.Actually, two catches. The nutty Professor Crisparkle turns out to be totally gorgeous—and on the prowl. Faster than you can say, “Old Saint Nick,” James is mixing business with pleasure…and in real danger of forgetting that this is just a holiday romance.Just as they’re well on the way to having their peppermint sticks and eating them too, Sedgwick discovers the truth. James has been a very bad boy. And any chance Santa will bring him what he wants most is disappearing quicker than the Jolly Old Elf’s sleigh.This is a fun, entertaining novella, perfect for the Christmas season.Josh Lanyon is one of my Favorite Author's and he always comes when through with a terrific story and embracing character's.Too bad there really isn't a LOST Dicken's Christmas novel.
    • 3/5
      James Winter specializes in antiquarian books. Or, well, he used to until a scandal a few years earlier cast doubts on his reputation. So when a rich buyer, Mr. Stephanopoulos, shows up with a lead for James, he's interested in using it to get back in the game. Mr. S has learned of a previously unpublished Dickens Christmas story, and he's willing to pay top dollar to get it into his possession. The only rule is that James cannot tell its owner, Sedgwick Crisparkle, that Mr. S is the one who wants to buy the book. Seems easy enough.

      Professor Crisparkle is more of a character than James could have imagined. He's also rather dashing, and he quickly makes his own interest in James known. Despite possibly knowing better, James returns Sedgwick's affections and they soon find themselves entangled in more than just a business arrangement. But there's still the matter of closing the sale. And the question of why Mr. S is so insistent that Sedgwick not be made aware of his identity. How can James navigate his growing affection for one client and his business obligations to the other?

      If you're looking for a short(ish), sweet Christmas romance with a few minor hiccups on the path from meeting to falling in love, this is a story for you. It's entertaining, well-written, and a quick and easy read. A good choice just in time for the holidays.

    Book preview

    The Dickens with Love - Josh Lanyon

    A scandal cost antiquarian book hunter James Winter everything that mattered to him. Now the rich and unscrupulous Mr. Stephanopoulos has a proposition. A previously unpublished Christmas book by Charles Dickens has turned up in the hands of an English chemistry professor by the name of Sedgwick Crisparkle. Mr. S. wants James to get that book for him—at any price.

    Three years ago, a scandal cost antiquarian book hunter James Winter everything that mattered to him: his job, his lover, and his self-respect. But now the rich and unscrupulous Mr. Stephanopoulos has a proposition. A previously unpublished Christmas book by Charles Dickens has turned up in the hands of an English chemistry professor by the name of Sedgwick Crisparkle. Mr. S. wants that book at any price — and he needs James to get it for him. There’s just one catch. James can’t tell the nutty professor who the buyer is.

    Actually, two catches because the nutty Professor Crisparkle turns out to be totally gorgeous — and on the prowl. Faster than you can say Old Saint Nick, James is mixing business with pleasure — and in real danger of forgetting that this is just a holiday romance.

    The Dickens with Love

    Josh Lanyon

    Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead, said Scrooge. But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change.

    Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

    Chapter One

    Anything you have to do, Mr. Stephanopoulos said, pouring sherry. "I must have that book."

    Anything? I repeated carefully.

    We stood in the spacious living room of his Century City penthouse. The Palladian windows looked out over a city alight and twinkling on this rainy afternoon four days before Christmas. In one corner of the room was a large and particularly vulgar Christmas tree that managed to convey all the holiday charm of a sequined dildo. In the other was a plasma television set, sound muted. It’s a Wonderful Life—the scene where Clarence explains to George Bailey how angels get their wings—played a silent background to our conversation.

    Stephanopoulos smiled, handing me the fragile amber glass of sherry. Short of murder, of course.

    Of course. Was that supposed to be funny? What a prick he was. What a godawful, odious prick.

    I don’t want to know details. I want results.

    I sipped the sherry. It was probably excellent sherry, if you liked sherry. I prefer brandy, but Mr. Stephanopoulos hadn’t asked. The Mr. Stephanopouloses of the world don’t.

    Well? Mr. S. demanded when I didn’t immediately answer.

    I said lightly—although the mockery was more for me than him, Have I ever failed you?

    No. You have not. And no one knows his Dickens like you do, James.

    He managed to make it sound lascivious. That was unlikely his intent; Stephanopoulos was staunchly heterosexual. One more reason to be glad I was born gay.

    I watched him savor the sherry, wet glistening on his plump red lips. He looked like a Tim Burton version of Father Christmas.

    Crisparkle. That can’t be this professor’s real name.

    Why do you say so?

    I quoted, "‘Mr. Crisparkle, Minor Canon, early riser, musical, classical, cheerful, kind, good-natured, social, contented, and boy-like.’ Canon Crisparkle is a character in The Mystery of Edwin Drood. He helps Neville Landless escape to London when he’s suspected of killing Edwin Drood."

    That’s right. How could I forget?

    How? Beside the fact that Mr. S. had never read The Mystery of Edwin Drood? Actually, I doubted if Mr. S. had read much of any Dickens. I don’t suppose he even liked Dickens. He thought Boz was a smart acquisition. And he was right. The previous week an 1859 first edition of A Tale of Two Cities—illustrated by H.K. Browne and bound by Birdsall & Son from the original seven monthly serial installments—went for $6,950 on the Advanced Book Exchange.

    Though Mr. S. ruthlessly and relentlessly collected Dickens for investment purposes, his personal preferences ran to 1920s erotica. Primarily naughty pictures and, ideally, French. Hey, c’est la vie.

    I believe it’s his real name, though, Mr. S. said. Sedgwick Crisparkle. He’s a Professor of Chemistry at the University of London.

    "Sedgwick? He’s having you on." As in totally yanking the fat man’s chain. Still, what did it matter to me? I would be paid for my expertise whether the article in question was genuine or not.

    And how did this professor of chemistry get hold of a lost Dickens manuscript?

    Mr. S. said vaguely, That’s all part of the mystery. Not that I give a fuck how he got hold of it so long as I get first crack at it—assuming it’s the real thing.

    I smiled politely. When it came to ethics, Mr. S. made the House of Medici look like the Waltons. Say goodnight, John Boy. Only I couldn’t say goodnight. If I didn’t want to live in a cardboard box under Los Angeles River Bridge come the New Year, I had to have this commission.

    You’ll have to be discreet, though. If Crisparkle knows you’re acting as my agent he won’t sell the book to you. Regardless of the money involved.

    Interesting.

    I said only, Discretion is my middle name.

    Stephanopoulos smirked. I resisted the temptation to dash my drink in his face. Desperation makes ugly bedfellows. Anyway, a thimbleful of sherry was a ridiculous gesture. He’d probably just lick it off.

    Stephanopoulos handed me a slip of paper with a phone number. He’s staying at the Hotel Del Monte. It’s crucial that you get a look at the book and, assuming it’s genuine, that I’m able to make an offer before LAABF on Saturday.

    LAABF was the Los Angeles Antiquarian Book Fair. The fair was held every other year. It was neither the largest nor the most prestigious of such book fairs—not in the state and not in the country—and I wondered why Professor Crisparkle had decided to auction his valuable manuscript here. It seemed one more indication that all was not kosher. Not my problem.

    Hotel Del Monte. He must be expecting to make a killing, I remarked, examining the phone number.

    With good reason.

    I made a noncommittal reply. Well, however things went down, I’d treat myself to a few hours in the Hotel Del Monte’s legendary Champagne Bar. It was one of my favorite places in Los Angeles though generally right out of my price range. The good thing about working for Mr. S. was that he paid promptly and well.

    Mr. S. said jovially, To Dickens’ Christmas books. God bless ‘em every one!

    We clinked the crystal glasses. They made a brittle chime. Somewhere a disheartened angel tumbled off a Christmas tree.

    ~ * ~

    This is for all the lonely people…

    America’s The Complete Greatest Hits was blasting from the apartment next door to mine. Darcy, my neighbor, was—in her own words—a HUGE fan of the English-American folk rock band. Actually the greatest hits album was an improvement over Holiday Harmony, the group’s Christmas album. I’d heard that album at least twice every single day for the past month. Now I understood why so many suicides happened around this time of year.

    Darcy’s door flew open as I was quietly inserting my key into my door lock.

    James.

    Hey. I smiled distractedly and turned the lock.

    Darcy was a few years older than me. She was a chubby, dishwater blonde with a fondness for baggy jeans, plaid flannel shirts and animal-shaped barrettes. I liked Darcy. She was a good neighbor and a kind and conscientious person. But despite the fact that I had broken it to her early on that I was gay, I was uncomfortably aware that she still, as they used to say, entertained hopes. I did my best not to encourage her.

    Did you decide if you’re spending Christmas day here? Her expression was studiedly casual.

    I’d known the question was coming, so I’m not sure why I didn’t have an answer for her. I did have an answer; only I didn’t want to deliver it. Nobody should have to be alone at Christmas.

    And Darcy knew I didn’t have anyone to spend it with, so to refuse was just…personal.

    Thinking that love has left them dry…

    She was lonely and God knew I was lonely. What did it matter if she was a little dull, a little desperate? The same could be said about me.

    Darcy swallowed, met my eyes, and found a cheerful smile with which to meet my impending rejection.

    Yes, I heard myself say. Christmas. Christmas would be… Thank you. Yes.

    Darcy’s face lit up. "Really?"

    I nodded. What do I—? Should I bring something?

    Just yourself.

    I can do that. That I can do. I was nodding encouragingly—encouraging myself—like one of those bobble-headed dogs.

    She was still beaming at me and I was still nodding as I let myself in my apartment. I waved, she waved, and I shut the door, leaning against it.

    Is that supposed to be your idea of a good deed? I asked aloud. It was rhetorical. I had no answer and there was no one else to answer—and hadn’t been since Corey kicked me out of our Laurel Canyon home nearly three years ago to the day.

    I really didn’t want to start thinking about Corey Navona. It was only the time of year, and Stephanopoulos’s crack about the Louis Strauss debacle—but that was all ancient history. I had a job. A real job instead of the usual slinging books at barnsonovels. Things were looking good.

    I shoved off the

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