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Book 3: Find me at Willoughby Close

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Book 4: Kiss Me at Willoughby Close

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Book 5: Marry Me at Willoughby Close

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Kate Hewitt’s New Holiday Novel

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Christmas at the Edge of the World

Kate Hewitt

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Enjoy an exclusive excerpt below

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“I’m sorry. We do try to be as understanding as possible in these types of situations, but I am afraid in this instance Zachary’s behaviour is completely unacceptable.” The headmaster’s face was drawn into stern lines of displeasure tempered by very little sympathy. “I have no choice but to exclude Zachary permanently from the school.”

Laurel’s stomach plunged unpleasantly at this news even as she wondered how to react to it. She wasn’t sure whether she should nod in agreement or tell the man what he could do with his so-called understanding. She did neither, re-crossing her legs as she shot her nephew an uncertain, questioning look. Shouldn’t he be contributing to this awful, awkward conversation?

He hadn’t said a word since she’d been summoned to the prestigious St. Luke’s School for Boys fifteen minutes ago, after being told the situation was both urgent and serious. Laurel had a lot of both urgent and serious in the last ten days, enough to last her a lifetime, and yet here was more.

“I’m sure Zac is aware of the...the severity of his behaviour,” she said after a moment, because she had to say something, and in truth, she wasn’t sure what it should be. Should she let this obnoxious man with his sniffy attitude and stupid bow tie walk all over her, as well as her nephew?

Perhaps not, but neither could she pretend Zac hadn’t acted anything but outrageously and, in this case, dangerously. He deserved what he was getting. Unfortunately.

At fourteen years old going on about forty, Zac looked indifferent to the pronouncement that he would no longer be able to attend the school where he’d been going since he’d been in year three. He was sprawled in a chair, inspecting his nails, his school tie bunched in one pocket, working hard at looking completely unconcerned.

Laurel had become used to that look; it had been his standard since she’d taken over his care. Even now, ten days on, she fought a sense of unreality that she was here, that this man-child was her responsibility, at least for the next three weeks. With every passing day, that responsibility had felt more daunting, more impossible.