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Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read!
Catherine Ferguson
A laugh-out-loud book from the ebook bestseller that’s sure to get you in the Christmas spirit!Lola Plumpton can’t believe her luck.Christmas is coming and her gorgeous boyfriend, Nathan, has offered up his swanky apartment to host her family’s festive celebrations. It looks set to be a Christmas to remember. And it is – but for all the wrong reasons.As the 25th December draws closer, Lola unexpectedly finds herself missing some key components:1. A job (but who needs one of those anyway, when you’ve got the ultimate family Christmas to prepare for?)2. Money (no job equals no money, it turns out.)3. A boyfriend (yup, Nathan the hunk has said adios to Lola – and in the *most* embarrassing way possible…)4. Somewhere to host her fabulous family Christmas (because of course, no Nathan means no des res apartment.)Lola’s at a loss about what to do. But one way or another, she’s going to make this the best Christmas her family’s ever had…
Mistletoe and Mayhem
CATHERINE FERGUSON
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2015
Copyright © Catherine Ferguson 2015
Cover design © Debbie Clement
Catherine Ferguson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © October 2015 ISBN: 9780008142223
Version 2017-11-14
For Pamela, firm friendship from ‘Rustic’ beginnings!
Contents
Cover (#u78d1bc7b-7869-5e90-8575-ef2a488c4a96)
Title Page (#u9e3ed53a-80e4-5d5e-88ef-6f3c236053dd)
Copyright (#u43289ab9-0c13-5b15-b2b5-d5ac24781872)
Dedication (#ub73c36b4-73c1-5c4a-b3cf-2885de4d3b2a)
Ten weeks until Christmas (#uc3b42c99-f1d7-538f-8470-2f42707028ca)
Chapter One (#uee05b996-d2b7-59c8-8d9f-0fbfddbb0995)
Chapter Two (#u4ad8393a-8e3b-584e-a3b8-b938a4fca3b6)
Chapter Three (#u1f0d75f0-8e6b-5376-9d1a-7c99e0e99ac5)
Chapter Four (#ubc15421e-9a02-549a-9660-8eb6c3a1519a)
Chapter Five (#udc986ae4-9955-512f-b3ec-ac41c9c8c008)
Chapter Six (#ufb24b177-64db-57b5-9387-77429a4c2b23)
Chapter Seven (#u378cd69f-8a17-5da3-853b-d9c3b06c91c9)
Chapter Eight (#u0934fc90-eb02-503c-b0b5-e382ed78a3ee)
Chapter Nine (#u51978be0-d169-5e4a-b460-59f209698a15)
Chapter Ten (#u33372d9e-abe2-5c58-8b23-e2c493f127bc)
Chapter Eleven (#ue0c340a9-1cef-51f8-9a20-ba13f3b3d36b)
Four weeks until Christmas (#u619090ef-dfaa-5ce0-bbe5-f4b458142e60)
Chapter Twelve (#ub851f8da-a4c9-50ee-a607-d9e677778fd3)
Chapter Thirteen (#u6f6d4235-9486-53d8-8fd1-1af2194e54d2)
Chapter Fourteen (#u27f45b59-d9f2-5e26-aec6-84adbb2e700a)
Chapter Fifteen (#ub45c4886-eb8f-5fa5-9cd5-67110b91a2f3)
Chapter Sixteen (#u0f23c325-0996-50c5-8f95-74a89d6f40ff)
Chapter Seventeen (#ucae644e5-9cdf-5953-aed8-dea372fe0587)
One week until Christmas (#u29dec598-2d9f-5426-b06f-4c7065766396)
Chapter Eighteen (#u71371d7e-346a-5ff7-aecd-5bde235e2152)
Chapter Nineteen (#uabcee0c6-0f28-5e94-8470-111b362c237c)
Chapter Twenty (#u48beb3f1-507c-515a-a772-917ecb90d392)
Chapter Twenty-One (#ub0f07cc2-8f16-5b47-bc05-3b118fa1f81e)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#u309b3d37-75ae-5da2-b64d-68d361d4c047)
Three days until Christmas (#u821823df-cbcb-51ce-8b76-661c7ac67a1f)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#uefc6b34f-e3b8-5fc1-8ec4-04a4fedc7ec9)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#u7e9fad03-7fee-5c8e-99f2-8756d897f1ca)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#uab4ab16f-8b3f-521d-b814-3eb023d146dc)
Christmas Eve (#u530038e7-f767-54c7-852c-d6e8876aab00)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#ucc1f3d3e-b078-5204-af8f-211c0c293d35)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#u376902bd-025a-5f43-b09a-d83e5a7f252e)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#ub477a955-e860-5d3a-9e7e-d36d6aaaa71d)
Epilogue (#u6d4b2c35-d98a-5fbc-a338-54c5fca875f4)
Keep Reading (#u3919c6f3-e0d3-5925-885c-8077391babfc)
MISTLETOE AND MAYHEM (#u4c7a60c9-5974-530a-b61e-669420a5b860)
By the same author: (#u6f45b939-5f94-5cd8-88d7-c4a6a4a2e819)
Acknowledgements (#u8f638492-0ed6-5a2a-b8cc-ca17b54242c0)
About the Publisher (#u544d32b4-0b15-579d-b2c6-a4870e18a2e6)
Ten weeks until Christmas (#u65971360-3c46-5cc0-a10f-3795288fb414)
CHOCOLATE VODKA
This tastes as gloriously indulgent as it sounds.
You will need:
6 standard size Mars Bars
700ml vodka (the cheapest you can find as the quality makes no difference to the final taste)
• Roughly chop the chocolate and melt gently in a bowl over a pan of simmering water, making sure the bowl is not touching the water.
• When the chocolate begins to melt, start adding the vodka little by little, stirring it until all the chocolate is dissolved and everything is mixed together. (The caramel will be the last to dissolve so be patient!)
• Set aside to cool.
• Bottle your chocolate vodka and place in the freezer for at least 24 hours. (It won’t freeze but will form a lovely, thick, cold texture.)
• Keep your chocolate vodka stored in the freezer.
Chapter One (#u65971360-3c46-5cc0-a10f-3795288fb414)
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, I am.
My stomach shifts queasily at the memory of the fizz we drank the night before to celebrate Nathan completing his personal trainer course.
It’s not just the alcohol making me feel a tad gross this morning. There’s also the small matter of waking at four with a raging dose of the munchies.
I tiptoed downstairs and opened the fridge. (More as habit than anything. With Nathan a strict vegetarian, verging on vegan, I’ve learned not to get overly excited.)
