WANTED: Energetic, outgoing, flexible female singer for popular, award-winning professional caroling troupe…
Carol Swinton has just been promoted to lead call center manager for Homework Helpers, a phone bank for struggling college students. New to Birchwood, North Carolina, she excels at her job while, alas, her personal life consists of microwave popcorn dinners and binge-watching sappy Christmas movies until she zonks out under her favorite snowman throw. When she sees a flyer in the employee breakroom about a group needing carol singers for the upcoming holiday season, the former campus acapella aficionado leaps at the chance to audition for the town’s most popular troupe, Victorian Voices.
Gabe Maxwell is an almost anonymous townie who barely graduated high school but, by hook or by crook, has amassed a chain of popular local ice cream parlors called Soft Swerve. Busier than Santa on Christmas Eve, Gabe nonetheless looks forward to being part of the Mistle Tones every holiday season, a popular carol-singing group that is usually neck and neck against Victorian Voices, its closest caroling competition. Dressed in traditional old-timey caroling garb, he can let his deep, rich baritone voice ring out loud and proud without any of his regular customers recognizing him.
But when Carol stops in for a little pistachio and eggnog swirl cone one night, dressed in her own caroling garb, Gabe is not only entranced but dismayed—how can he fall for the newest, hottest and most talented member of the Victorian Voices? Carol is equally vexed. Even under his towering top hat and brocade riding jacket, she quickly recognizes the youngest, cutest and most talented member of none other than…the Mistle Tones! But how can she resist temptation when the Jingle Jangle Competition is just around the corner and her overactive imagination has her and Gabe hitting the high notes…in the bedroom? There is only one solution, obviously. Rather than sleep with the enemy, Gabe and Carol will have to join forces and branch out on their own, giving their former caroling troupes a run for their money as they enter the Jingle Jangle—and the holiday season—as a last-minute duo.
General Release Date: 21st October 2025
Carol
“WANTED.”
Carol Swinton stopped in her tracks to admire the gaily colored flyer tacked to the already overstuffed bulletin board in the employee breakroom. With a sprig of bright red and green holly in each corner and a border silhouetted with gold and silver musical notes, it certainly stood out from the run-of-the-mill black-and-white “babysitter needed” and “earn cash from home” junk bulletins that surrounded it.
She inched a little closer, clutching her cup of vending machine coffee in both hands as she glanced around to see if anyone was watching. Fat chance, she thought to herself as she glanced back at the holiday flyer with renewed interest. This time of night, most of the office drones had already headed home, leaving just Carol and a smattering of the overnight “Study Buddies” answering calls from forlorn college students who sought out their Homework Helpers hotline to assist with their term papers, projects and finals 24/7/365.
With the first week of December in full swing and finals starting to crop up all over the country, it was a busy time of year and, as the newest call center floor manager, Carol felt dutybound to oversee the fresh influx of new callers. So…bitter, lukewarm coffee from the breakroom vending machine and a quick stroll around the mostly empty office suite had seemed a good idea at the time.
But something about that flyer had piqued her interest so now Carol read it in full, if only for something to while away another long, late worknight high atop the Birchwood Business Center.
WANTED: Energetic, outgoing, flexible female singer for popular, award-winning professional caroling troupe. Evenings and weekends required. Mezzo-soprano preferred, contralto optional, talent MANDATORY. Email reggie@victorianvoices.net to schedule an audition time and please come prepared with selections from up to three of your traditional holiday favorites from the Regency and/or Victorian time period(s). And, for both our sakes, please, please, PLEASE know the difference!
“Mandatory,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head even as she struggled to deny the sudden surge of adrenaline that coursed through her veins. Christmas carol singers? Regency-era songs? She was tempted to squee out loud but she suddenly thought better of herself.
Good thing, too.
“Beg pardon?” A sudden voice from behind found Carol turning on her sensible work heels, the sound grating in the otherwise silent breakroom. Rome Patterson stood, fidgeting with the fringe on one half of his bright red and gold scarf.
“Rome,” she gushed, taking two involuntary steps away from the bulletin board as if to distance herself from the squee-inducing flyer. “I…didn’t see you standing there.”
Rome smirked, his rich ebony skin radiant beneath the typically unflattering fluorescent glow from above. “I…just got here.”
She took another step away from the board but her ever-observant boss was way too smart for that. “Eyeing the Victorian Voices flyer, I see?” he harumphed while tousling the bottom of the flyer with one plump finger.
Carol let out a fluttery little laugh, the kind she made whenever she was too nervous to form a complete sentence. “The what now?” she murmured innocently, as if she hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. And, since the exchange didn’t already sound quite awkward enough, Carol blurted a quick “Whatever do you mean?” just to make sure. She even clutched a few non-existent pearls around her neck for good measure.
“Victorian Voices,” he explained, drifting casually toward the soda machine while he dug his ID badge out of the front pocket of his stylish camel-colored slacks. “They’re a professional caroling group. You know the kind…” He paused in his explanation to make a selection and swipe his magnetic key card across the touchscreen on the machine to pay.
Carol took the opportunity to slide onto a stool at one of the four bistro-height breakroom tables in the corner. She sipped her coffee impatiently as he gathered up his can of grape soda and turned to face her. “Old Victorian garb, top hats and bonnets, mufflers and pince-nez, evergreen vests and fake timepieces…” His voice had taken on a singsong quality as he took three bounding steps and sank onto the bench seat across from her.
She smirked and patted his hand. “Sounds like you’ve given them a good study, Rome.”
“You could say that,” he hemmed.
She gave him a conspiratorial little wink. “I…just did.”
They’d only known each other a few weeks and were still feeling out each other’s ups and downs, schedules, mood swings and compatibility. But they’d connected immediately, with humor and understanding, the way coworkers who were destined to become much more so often did.
“So,” she pushed, nudging his chocolate-colored loafers beneath the table, “are you gonna spill or what?”
Rome avoided her eyes at first, fiddling with the top of his soda can before blurting, “I tried out for them one year.”
“You?” Carol sat up a little higher. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so embarrassed about reading that flyer after all. “I didn’t know you were a singer.”
He shrugged. “I dabbled in high school, went to a few choral competitions my senior year, that kind of thing.” Their eyes met across the stylish breakroom table. Like everything else about the wildly successful college hotline, it was modern, hip and expensive-looking. Rome paused to take a long, almost rueful sip of his soda.
“And then?” she prompted after he’d had time to swallow.
He rolled his eyes. “I was home from college. Winter break.” Rome waved the can of Goober Grape at the fancy flyer with a slight air of disdain, an uncharacteristic glimpse of negativity from a guy who was normally so chill and cheerful. “Saw one of those at the gym and thought why not, right?”
Carol sat back, anticipating some kind of confession. “Your tone implies it didn’t go so well.”
Rome snorted, nostrils flaring in advance. “That’s an understatement. Reginald, the troupe leader? Pompous with a capital ass.”
Carol chuckled. Rome was so lowkey that she’d rarely seen him sneer or scowl, let alone cuss. Suddenly he was doing all of the above? All at once? “There were a few red flags in the flyer,” she conceded.
He nodded. “It’s the same one they put up every year,” Rome explained. “Talent MANDATORY, in all caps. Gets me every time, especially since Reggie’s such a talentless hack himself.”
“Oh my.” She giggled almost nervously, a rash idea bubbling just beneath her skin despite the many warning signs flashing in her peripheral vision. “So the band leader’s a douche, but…is the troupe itself any good?”
“Oh sure,” Rome insisted, back to his old convivial self. “Top-notch harmonies, everything period-accurate, right down to the accents and top hats. They’re so good they win the Jingle Jangle Competition every year.”
“Jingle Jangle?” A caroling competition? Now Carol’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
Rome smirked, one bushy eyebrow arching above his superior scowl. “You really are new to Birchwood, huh?”
Carol ignored the daily jab, whittling down to the heart of the matter as that initial kernel of a bad idea threatened to pop into something hot, fresh and potentially regrettable. “If they’re that good, why do they hang up the same flyer every year? I mean, shouldn’t folks be lining up around the block just to join them?”
“Because the whole troupe is insufferable,” Rome explained. “Pompous, arrogant and conceited, so the only people who will stay in the group are folks just like them, and I guess they’re harder to find than old Reggie thinks. Trust me…you’ll see them for yourself soon enough.”
“How’s that?” Carol struggled not to sound startled. Had her new boss read her mind? She certainly hoped not, particularly after the way she’d chided him—mentally, of course—for wearing stripes and plaids the previous day!
Then he rolled his rich brown eyes and explained, “You can’t avoid them this time of year. Strolling through all the hoity-toity neighborhoods in town, strutting through the ritzy shopping centers at peak Christmas shopping time, belting out old Victorian carols at four billion decibels…”
By the time Rome was through dishing, he was nearly panting with righteous indignation.
“So if they’re so obnoxious,” she teased, leaning over conspiratorially, “why did you audition for them in the first place?”
He chuckled self-deprecatingly, sliding from his stool to indicate that break time was over. “I guess to see whether or not I had the ‘MANDATORY’ talent they require. You might say I’m stubborn that way.”
Carol joined him as they tossed their empty cups in the breakroom recycling bin. “You should give it another shot this year,” she urged. “Sounds like they have more confidence than talent, anyway.”
“That they do,” he agreed, lingering just inside the breakroom as though neither of them was all that eager to get back to work. “Trouble is, they don’t really want talent. They want…obedience.”
Carol nodded in tacit agreement. “Not your strong suit?” she teased as they drifted from the breakroom into the maze of cubicles that lined the call center floor.
Rome gave a bittersweet little “tut” sound before huffing. “Obedience? Naw, not even a little.”
She nudged his hip as they wound toward their respective offices. “That explains a lot, boss.”
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