PRESSKIT:
St. Nicked by Damon Suede
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RELEASE DATE: 3 December 2024 from Dreamspinner Press.
Tagline:
There’s no gift like the present.
a gay holiday romance about an ex-cop super and a cat burglar Santa
Logline: When a cat burglar disguised as Santa targets an upscale Manhattan highrise, the single-dad superintendent gets more than his heart stolen.
St Nicked Details
- ISBN 978-1-64108-817-6 (ebook)
- Release: Dreamspinner Press, 3 December 2024
- Subgenre: contemporary holiday / light romantic suspense
- Length: 37,000 words (novella)
- Main characters: Mark Almeida & Rob Lupin
- Tropes: Cat burglar, Single Dad, Opposites Attract (Brute/Suit, Anglo/Hispanic, Blue collar/White collar), Out-for-you, Reformed Rogue, Culture Clash (ex-cop superintendant vs. mysterious jet setter), “Latin” Lover, Secret Identity.
Available in ebook.
Links:
St. Nicked Blurb:
St. Nicked: There's no gift like the present.
Holidays this fun can’t be legal. When a cat burglar dressed as Santa targets a glitzy Manhattan high-rise, the holidays get unhinged.
As superintendent, Mark Almeida needs to keep the residents safe, and as a former NYPD cop, he knows he can crack the case without any help… until he meets a suave stranger too handsome for his own good who pushes buttons Mark didn’t know he had.
As the holly-jolly crime spree unfolds, Mark wrestles with duty and desire while juggling festive clues, lavish gifts, and stolen kisses in time for a truly crooked Christmas.
St. Nicked, the newest contemporary romance from Damon Suede, combines the tension of a mystery with feel-good romance in a way only Damon can deliver.
If you're interested in exclusive content please contact me ASAP and I'll do my best to make it work. My winter is about to get crazypants for reasons I can make public shortly, so sooner is better.
St. Nicked Artwork:
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St. Nicked Topics:
- Grit and glitz: building the lush life for a broken hero
- Blue collar vs. Blue blood (class conflict & fantasies)
- Voyeurism and surveillance: gay paranoia and the paranoid gaze
- In Security: why we love dangerous heroes that keep us safe
- Sleazy money: the underside of the influencer culture
- City Tour: Real life geography of the book in Manhattan
- STolen Hearts: why "fun" crimes makes us feel warm and fuzzy
St. Nicked Excerpts:
This excerpt from Chapter 1
of St. Nicked comes during a holiday shindig
where Mark has agreed to play Santa at a glitzy party in
the Manhattan highrise where he's superintendant.
Sitting on his Candy Cane throne, Mark meets someone
unexpetced.
“Boas
festas.” A smooth voice from the shadowy side of the
room.
Mark jumped. “Jesus fuck.” He
squinted through the glare, rising from his seat with his heart
slamming in his ears. “Jesus, you scared me.”
“Desculpe.”
An athletic silhouette and then a square, handsome face crossed
the line of lights. “Feliz
natal, gato.”
“I didn’t see you.” Actually he still
didn’t, until something moved closer to him in the corner. “And
I don’t speak Portuguese either.” He blinked and wiped his
mouth. “Jesus. How did you do that?” Never in thirty-seven years
had someone managed to sneak up on him.
“I only ducked the barnyard a moment.
I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No. Not at— I’m here for the guests.
Santa selfies. Uhh. I mean, you’re supposed to come in whenever,
I just had no idea that you—”
“Too quiet. Bad habit. Apologies. I’m
Robert.” He stepped forward and shook with his smooth hand. “Rob
to my friends.” His smile was something else, topped by light
eyes, hazel or gold, creased with laugh lines. A shaved head, or
nearly. “And you’re a jolly old elf, obviously.” Sheesh, that
smile.
“Sure.” Still rattled, Mark didn’t
offer his name-name. His pulse still thumped in his ears.
“Breather. Crowd.” Rob closed the
door with a click and a sneaky grin. He moved like a gymnast,
balanced and seamless. “Siddown. No pics.” Rob flexed his
fingers and glanced back toward the noisy door. “You don’t mind
if I hide out with you for a few.” A statement, not a question.
“North Pole and all.”
Mark gave a tight nod at that
knockout smile. Maybe it was just the jolt getting him worked
up. He didn’t even dig dudes, but fuck’s sake.
“I’m a stranger. Just moved in. Well,
passing through.”
“Into the Castagna?” The building
hadn’t gained any residents since the summer.
“Visiting New York, actually.
Airbnb.” He crossed his arms, and his shirt bunched over his
biceps. Maybe he was some kind of actor or athlete.
“Right.” Mark made a conscious effort
to slow his breathing. “Uhh. I didn’t even know. Airbnb? Which
apartment?”
“The little penthouse facing the High
Line. Left off the elevator. B, I think?”
“Yeah, penthouse B is the smaller
unit. The Merricks must be in Tampa.”
“Holidays seemed like a nice time to
visit Manhattan.” Rob shrugged. “Jolly.”
Christmas in New York?
Hardly. “I guess.”
“Don’t tell the hostess, but I’m not
even invited, not really. They slid it under the door for the
Merricks and I couldn’t resist.”
“When did you get here?”
“You mean
here-here, to this
party?”
Mark chuckled “No. The building.” He
could hear his cop voice cranking up and closed his mouth.
Chill.
“A week, maybe?” Rob looked around
appreciatively. “About a week. I love this neighborhood, the
High Line.”
“I just… I shoulda known. I run the
building. Not management or what, but I’m the super—”
Rob raised his glass. “Superb.”
Jeez. “—intendent.”
A cat-cream grin slid across Rob’s
face. “Then I’m in good hands.”
“Well, thank you for that.” Mark
chuckled and his heart finally relaxed. Whoever this guy might
be, he wasn’t boring. “Most visitors to the building aren’t as…
friendly.”
Rob leaned closer, his eyes
sparkling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” The words slipped out
of Mark’s mouth before he could second-guess.
For a long, delicious moment, they
watched each other, measuring the tangible tension between them.
Flustered and blushing, Mark looked
away first. Seemed like ages since he’d felt so attracted to
anybody, let alone acted on it.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be monopolizing
Santa like this. Naughty.”
“I’m gonna call it nice. And I’m the
one in the red suit.” Mark sat back on his Styrofoam throne,
wishing he wasn’t in this dopey getup.
“I’ll confess….” Rob tilted his head
and looked at a sleek watch that probably cost as much as a car.
“I’m not a party person, but everyone once in a while, y’know? A
happy accident. I shouldn’t hijack you.”
“Huh? A break like this? I appreciate
it,” Mark replied with an almost sheepish tone.
“Believe me, so do I.”
Their eyes met again and held. Rob
stepped closer to him until body heat knocked between them. He
smelled like butterscotch. The skin of his throat under his jaw,
where the pulse knocked, seemed almost translucent. “What do
you want for
Christmas?”
Zing! The hairs on Mark’s arms stood up.
Get a grip, man. He
knew better: no fraternizing with tenants or their guests.
Invariably messy. Never worth it.
But their gazes hung, joking and
jousting between them. Mark felt like he should say something,
kill the question or reset the convo or break the tension, but…
nothing. Even with the dumb party outside, the library felt
hushed and heated around them.
Rob ran a hand over his smooth scalp
and licked the corner of his mouth gently as if tasting it.
Whatever this shimmering silence between them
was, maybe he felt it
too.
Mark blinked at him. “Uhh, what
brings you to New York? Business or pleasure?”
“Well I
thought it was
business,” Rob replied with a grin. “But there might be a
curveball.”
“Lucky for us, then.”
Before Mark could wonder what
happened next, Rob laughed and took a step closer, their knees
nearly touching. “You know what’s even luckier?”
Now their faces were inches apart.
“What’s that?” Mark realized he was
holding his breath. Was Rob about to—? Were they really gonna—?
Footsteps. The clack-clack of
expensive heels and a loud woman’s voice in the hall killed
whatever moment they’d had.
Rob stepped back and Mark leaned back
on his throne instantly, caught off guard by whoever.
Creak. The door opened a crack, the sound
slicing through the odd shared moment. Instantly, Mark
remembered the stupid costume he was wearing. Santa’s lap dance.
The gig. Oh right.
Ugh.
The woman’s voice just outside the
door, annoyed. “—one goddamn Santa selfie I can post and then I
need a pill.”
“Fuck.” Rob’s eyes flicked to his.
“Don’t give me away.” And he vanished behind the terrace drapes.
Excerpted from St.
Nicked by Damon Suede
published by Dreamspinner
Press
St. Nicked Reviews:
"A miraculous mashup of To Catch a Thief, Only Murders in the Building and I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus, this playful holiday tale is full of sparkling dialog, genuine New York chutzpah and smoldering sex appeal. The characters speak their own language, and the reader is genuinely excited to be welcomed into the bubble. The fun, knowing nods to favorite holiday movies and traditions make it bubble and the thoughtful revelations by both main characters keep it from being too sweet. This was a fun read, and we rooted for our good Santa to embrace a little naughtiness, and our naughty elf to be genuinely good. The gift at the end was that our every wish was granted. A delight from start to finish.
"A perfect Ho-Ho-Hot treat for the holiday season! Spicy, Sweet, with a Santa-sized helping of heart...Suede seamlessly blends festive spice, Christmas shenanigans, and holiday heart in this RomComCaper.
