Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read!. Catherine Ferguson

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       Chapter One

      Why is it that giving something up makes the thing you can’t have a hundred times more desirable?

      When I decided to stop snacking between meals, for instance, I had this weird, recurring dream where a monster made entirely of Wotsits (Really Cheesy flavour) was terrorising my village and the only way I could stop him was to tie him down and eat him.

      Tough work, but someone had to do it. Did I mention this was actually a daydream? (Joke. I’m really not that disturbed.)

      But the point is, I used to love my lazy Sunday mornings. Until I met Nathan and they became a thing of the past.

      And now I can only dream about them …

      Ah, the luxury of surfacing naturally, without an alarm braying manically in my ear … followed by oodles of delicious ‘quality time’ with Nathan … and then a little while later, when we’re feeling totally blissed out, maybe breakfast in bed with the newspapers …

      Nathan raps on the bathroom door.

      ‘Leaving in ten minutes, Lola,’ he calls cheerily. ‘We don’t want to be late.’

      ‘Er – right with you.’ I turn on the taps much too quickly and promptly drench the crotch of my hill-walking trousers.

      Scrubbing at the area with a towel, I eye the waistband critically in the vast mirror above Nathan’s butler sink washbasin.

      If these trousers were any tighter, I’d be waving bye-bye to my circulation.

      But since my only other sports outfit is in the wash, they’ll just have to do.

      I unzip the top inch and breathe out thankfully.

      The trousers were a Big Mistake, bought three months ago in the excited aftermath of Nathan asking me out for the very first time.

      He’d suggested a four-hour hill walk followed by a bite to eat at a local vegetarian restaurant. My best friend, Barb, raised a single eyebrow at the proposed itinerary. But I just laughed and said I thought it showed a refreshing originality on Nathan’s part. I mean, who needs predictable?

      As with any thrilling first date, I decided it would be criminal not to treat myself to a new outfit.

      So yes, I confess, the much-too-tight, figure-hugging khaki green trousers I’m wearing were chosen not for their hi-tech breathable and waterproof qualities. But rather with the goal of getting a second date.

      The Lycra top isn’t great, either. It was a birthday gift from Nathan and it’s a little on the snug side, with my ample chest spilling out where it’s not supposed to. Wearing black with my straw-coloured hair and even paler complexion makes me look a bit peaky.

      And hungover.

      Which, of course, СКАЧАТЬ