A Merry Little Christmas

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Part Three: We Will Be Together (#litres_trial_promo)

July (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

August (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

September (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Part Four: A Merry Little Christmas (#litres_trial_promo)

October (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

November (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

December (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

By the same author (#litres_trial_promo)

Read on for an extract from Last Christmas (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#litres_trial_promo)

Part One: I Gave You My Heart (#litres_trial_promo)

Last Year

December 22

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#ulink_16fde70f-e68b-53db-9259-18b6ced7875a)

The last rays of a winter’s sunset sent streaks of orange and pink across the white fields. Dusk was settling as a motorbike roared its way through the snowy countryside. Large groups of birds took to the air as it sped past, and flocks of sheep ran wildly round in circles. The sound of the engine echoed down the country lanes, disturbing the chilly peace. The leather-clad rider wore a black jacket with a flaming sword emblazoned on his back which, along with his gold and orange helmet, made him resemble a modern day knight. As the rider stopped at the top of the hill overlooking Hope Christmas, he took off his helmet and stared down into the town. The Christmas lights were still twinkling in the High Street. The lamps from the houses down below gave the place a cosy homely feel, as if the whole town were drawing a collective sigh.

The rider flexed his hands, and smiled; the words, Dux, on one set of knuckles and Michael on the other, just visible underneath his fingerless gloves. He was good looking, with a dark complexion, devastating cheekbones, curly dark hair which tickled the collar of his jacket, and piercing blue eyes.

‘So Hope Christmas, long time no see,’ he muttered. ‘Uncle Ralph was right, it’s a beautiful little place. I shall look forward to renewing my acquaintance with you.’

He put his helmet back on, revved the engine, and roared down the road and into town, noting the quaint little shops; the antiques market, flower stall, the bookshop and market square where a Christmas tree stood proudly in the centre. The town was deserted, with only one or two brave souls prepared to come out on such a cold night. One of them, a pensioner tootling along on a mobile buggy, stopped to say hello.

‘Well, Michael Nicholas, as I live and breathe. Your uncle said you might be coming. It’s good to see you after all these years.’

‘And you, Miss Woods,’ Michael smiled a devilishly handsome smile. ‘It’s been far too long.’

‘Will you be staying a while?’ she asked.

Michael looked around him. ‘That, I think depends on who needs me,’ he said.

‘I think you’ll find there’s always a need,’ said Miss Woods.

‘Then yes, I think I’ll be here a while,’ said Michael, his smile crinkling up to his blue eyes.

‘I look forward to it,’ said Miss Woods. ‘Happy Christmas.’

‘And to you,’ said Michael, before climbing back on his bike and speeding off to Hopesay Manor.