Fruitcake is the laughingstock of the holiday season. But is it really an aphrodisiac instead? Motorcycle mechanic Sam McGuire is surprised to find a gaily wrapped box on his doorstep with a piece of fruitcake inside. The note on the present is an invitation to a holiday party. Intrigued, Sam attends the party -- mostly to get more of the fruitcake he falls in love with -- and meets his new neighbor, Jay Merriweather. The lure of Jay’s big family and its holiday tradition of enjoying Grandma’s fruitcake hook Sam, as does the sexy man himself. But Sam can't imagine why handsome, college-educated Jay would want someone like him, who was raised in a children’s home and barely graduated high school. Can the magic of the holiday season help two men who seem so different come together like the ingredients in a well-made fruitcake?

Blame It on the Fruitcake

So I let this guy lead me around, introducing me, telling me something about everyone, and letting them know I lived at the other end of the hall.


At one point he stared at me with a funny twinkle in his eyes and asked, “You’re not by any chance McGuire’s Bikes, are you?”


I managed to nod. I was stunned. It wasn’t like I was famous or anything.


He beamed. “No shit! Wow! I wanted to meet you after the Reno Roadshow. I loved your Loose and Wild Rainbow. Great bike.”


Ah, yes, L&WR, the winner of the Roadshow competition. I’d tricked out the bike for a buddy of mine who died of AIDS. He wanted the bike to be a memorial, but so far we couldn’t locate a cemetery or burial place where we could put his ashes and his machine. We were finding that burial laws by the ocean and in the mountains were pretty archaic and exclusive. If we wanted a bike cut into marble, no problem. But Harry hadn’t been a stone monument sorta guy.


“Uh, thanks. Yeah, it was a special kinda project,” I mumbled.


Chapter 3