I have a new book out soon, it’s currently up for pre-order on Amazon. It’s a lovely, cosy, Christmas romcom. Read it while you have your hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate – something the characters do a lot…. Here’s a taster from the first chapter:

‘What are you doing for Christmas, Ruby?’

I swear the next person who asks me that is going to either get a punch in the face or I’ll vomit on their shoes. Which would be worse? I am only standing at the water cooler, filling my glass and minding my own business.

‘Oh, you know, just the usual, family stuff, quiet one.’ I force out a bland little smile before feeling obliged to return the query. ‘What about you?’

‘Oh, first we’re going to Paul’s parents’ place for brunch, then it’s over to mine for Christmas dinner at six, with all our lot… blah, blah, blah.’

Suddenly, I realise she’s stopped talking and I have to respond even though I haven’t been listening to most of it because it’s the same old stuff everyone says.

‘Sounds fab,’ I say, my voice rising at the end, trying to sound interested and positive. ‘Have fun.’ I turn and shuffle back to my desk and wonder how much longer this hell will continue.

It’s our last day at work before Christmas. We’re not working tomorrow, which is Christmas Eve, and everyone is hoping we’ll be let off early today. Even me. Not because I want to get home and start stuffing my turkey or trimming my tree or any of that crap, just because I want to get as far away from jolly, festive people as I possibly can.

‘Suppose we’d better put some of this away,’ someone says, starting to pick baubles off the tacky plastic tree wedged on top of the filing cabinet. I look away. Don’t involve me in that, I didn’t put it up and I’m not taking it down. I can still feel the daggers of disapproval flung my way when I wouldn’t participate in this farce. ‘Not even a bit of tinsel on your desk?’ someone had questioned, before backing off when I’d barked, ‘No, thanks.’

I hate Christmas. In case you hadn’t guessed. I haven’t always hated Christmas, but I do now.

The office door opens and I watch my friend, Zara, waddle towards me. The smile on her face lasts from the door to my desk.

‘Hey,’ I say, genuinely pleased to see her.

‘I’m so glad it’s my last day.’ She flops down in the seat next to mine, rubbing her immense baby belly.

 ‘You got lots of nice stuff.’ We had her leaving to have a baby presentation an hour ago and I’ve never seen so much baby paraphernalia. ‘Do you need a hand getting it home?’ I hope she doesn’t, I really do. I know that’s selfish.

‘No, my colleagues will stuff it in the car for me and Ben and the kids will get it out at home.’ She smiles, then nudges me. ‘I bet you just want to get off out of here, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I cannot lie.’

‘Who knows, by the time you get back from your little jaunt, I might have had this baby.’

‘When’s it actually due?’

‘4th Jan, but as it’s number four, it could come any time.’ She gives a little light laugh as though having a baby is like popping to the loo, but we both know that the last time was hell on earth for her and the baby. Personally, I think she’s mad to do it again, but what do I know? She said that she didn’t like families in uneven numbers, definitely didn’t want three children because there’s always a middle one, and she didn’t want that. She’d been a middle one herself and she definitely didn’t want that for her own children. Hence number four; I still think she’s mad.

‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t need any help…’

‘No, you’re fine. What are your plans? Car packed ready to go straight off?’

‘Yes. Clothes and stuff. But I’m going to go food shopping before I get on the motorway. It’s so cold outside that I don’t think I need to worry about anything I buy spoiling, do you?’

‘God, no. It’s bloody freezing outside. Snow forecast, apparently. Not that I believe it. We’ll just get drizzle like we always do. At least this year we won’t be having thermostat wars all over Christmas like we usually do, Ben too hot, me too cold. I’ve got my own hot water bottle here.’ She pats her baby bulge. ‘I almost envy you.’

‘What?’

‘The peace and quiet. It’ll be the usual bedlam in our house and inevitably tears before lunchtime on Christmas Day. Mine probably.’ She rolls her eyes and stands up. ‘Have a good break, Ruby. Recharge those batteries. Message me when you get back. They’re letting me go now, cos I’m special.’ She grins and as I look at her I see how tired she looks. She should have finished work weeks ago, in my opinion, but it’s none of my business.

I stand up and give her a quick hug, mostly because she expects it. I swear her baby girl kicks me hard as I lean in. With three boys already, Zara was determined to try for a girl. I dread to think what would have happened if this one had been a boy too. Would she have tried for baby number five? Then a sixth if it wasn’t a girl, to keep the numbers even?

‘Message me if anything exciting happens.’

‘I don’t know if you’ll even receive messages down there.’

‘It’s Devon, Zara, not deepest, darkest space.’

‘I did tell you it was remote, though, didn’t I? We couldn’t even get a phone signal until we’d driven five miles away from the cottage.’

‘Yes, but that was fifty years ago.’

‘Shut up, you. Well, ten years, I suppose. In the days before we had children.’ Zara’s face takes on a wistful look and she smiles to herself, a secret little smile. ‘I think we conceived our eldest there.’

Too much information for me. ‘I was looking through the pictures Mrs Lane sent me again this morning,’ I say, changing the subject. ‘It looks like just what I need.’

Zara flops back down into the chair she’s just vacated. ‘Show me. Show me.’

….I’ll post an excerpt from chapter 2 soon.

Escape to Christmas Cottage is due out on 30 September and is available for pre-order now. Just 99p/c for a limited time.