Chapters (28)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Jaimie Admans
- Dedication
- 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
- Acknowledgements
- A Letter from the Author
- Turn the page for an exclusive extract from another enchanting novel from Jaimie Admans, The Little Vintage Carousel by the Sea …
- Chapter 1
- Dear Reader …
- Keep Reading …
- About the Publisher
‘On the first day I arrived, I mentioned the other bidder to him. Why didn’t he say, “oh yeah, by the way, that was me”? He didn’t know how I’d react then. If he was anything like the straight-to-the-point, honest, stand-up guy I’ve thought he was, he wouldn’t have kept it hidden.’
‘He probably knew how it would look. If you’d have known, you’d have been sleeping with one eye open waiting for him to poison you in the night.’
‘Which is exactly what I’m doing now, except he’s been killing me with kindness. He’s given me so much advice, Chels, and I’ve trusted everything he’s said. He even told me not to worry about studying books on Christmas tree farming because I could ask him. He obviously said that because the books might give me good advice that goes against the rubbish he’s been telling me to make sure everything goes horrifically wrong and the only way out will be to give it up and sell it to him.’
There’s a crash outside as something blows over in the wind, and Chelsea sighs. ‘Are you sure he didn’t say that because he wanted an excuse to spend time with you? All men like to feel needed.’
I walk to the door and pull it open, entering a battle of wills with the wind that does its best to pull it back again. A flurry of snow hits me in the face as I stand in the open doorway. I look out across the fields in front of me as I shake it out of my hair. The novelty has already worn off. It’s barely stopped snowing since Thursday night. The roads are impassable now and we’re so far out in the countryside that no gritting lorries come past. The white stuff has settled up to mid-calf level, with drifts along the roadside and around the house that are much deeper. I just hope it melts by Saturday because, although the trees look pretty covered in snow, the reality is that the whole farm is obscured by the blizzard, the fields look bleak and empty, it’s freezing, and the wind is galeforce. No one is going to come to pick their own Christmas tree in this. Not many people would be daft enough to risk leaving their houses.