Christmas at Carrington’s. Alexandra Brown

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      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Epilogue

       A message from Sam …

       Acknowledgements

       Georgie Hart’s Guide to a Fabulous Festive Party Season

       Buy Cupcakes at Carrington’s

       Buy Me and Mr Carrington

       Keep Reading The Great Christmas Knit Off

       About the Author

       Also by Alexandra Brown

       About the Publisher

       Prologue

      I never used to believe in lust at first sight. You know, the kind where your tummy tingles and your heart soars so high it feels as if it might just burst right out of your chest, cartoon style, and do a deliriously euphoric freeform dance around the room? But I certainly do now. Oh yes, because that’s exactly how I felt the very first time I clapped eyes on Tom. And he’s going to be here, right outside the door to my flat in approximately five minutes. I literally can not wait. I truly think he might be the one. I hope so. Now, that really would be pretty special indeed.

      The doorbell buzzes, sending my pulse into overdrive. He’s here. And on time – previous boyfriends could certainly learn a thing or two about timekeeping from him. I practically tear down the hallway to press the intercom before pausing to inhale hard through my nose and exhale even harder, keen to create a modicum of breeziness.

      ‘Hello,’ I breathe, in what I hope is a sophisticated, nonchalant-sounding voice, à la Angelina Jolie, or someone equally poised. I can’t imagine she ever legged it down her hallway gushing to let Brad in. Oh no no no.

      ‘It’s me,’ Tom says. Mmm, familiar. And I like it. For a nanosecond I contemplate asking ‘Who?’, to create an airy, elusive aura, but quickly decide against it. It’s not my style to play games, even if the relationship is brand new and we’re both still learning how to ‘be’ with each other. Besides, I don’t want him thinking I’m some kind of a milly with a stack of men on the go.

      ‘Hi Tom.’ I glance at the screen and smile on seeing him attempt to smooth his tangle of thick dark curls. With his velvety brown eyes and year-round Mediterranean real tan, he’s utterly delicious and, to be honest, I never in my wildest dreams thought I stood a chance. He has the kind of looks and background that could bag him a supermodel, but without any trace of arrogance or sense of entitlement that the beautiful people sometimes have. And occasionally I have to pinch myself … that he wants me, ordinary Georgie Hart from Mulberry-On-Sea, a size 14 on a good day, with a brunette bob that СКАЧАТЬ