About the Author
JAIMIE ADMANS is a 35-year-old English-sounding Welsh girl with an awkward-to-spell name. She lives in South Wales and enjoys writing, gardening, watching horror movies and drinking tea, although she’s seriously considering marrying her coffee machine. She loves autumn and winter, and singing songs from musicals despite the fact she’s got the voice of a dying hyena. She hates spiders, hot weather, and cheese and onion crisps. She spends far too much time on Twitter and owns too many pairs of boots. She will never have time to read all the books she wants to read.
Jaimie loves to hear from readers. You can visit her website at jaimieadmans.com or connect on Twitter @be_the_spark.
Also by Jaimie Admans
The Chateau of Happily-Ever-Afters
The Little Wedding Island
It’s a Wonderful Night
The Little Vintage Carousel by the Sea
Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
The Little Bookshop of Love Stories
The Little Christmas Shop on Nutcracker Lane
JAIMIE ADMANS
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020
Copyright © Jaimie Admans
Jaimie Admans asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for 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, downloaded, 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.
E-book Edition © October 2020 ISBN: 9780008400354
Version: 2020-09-10
Table of Contents
Cover
About the Author
Also by Jaimie Admans
Title Page
Copyright
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Extract
Dear Reader …
Keep Reading …
About the Publisher
For everyone who still believes in the magic of Christmas …
Chapter 1
My phone beeps with a text message and I look up from the nutcracker bunting I’m painting. Hopefully the guy I’m seeing telling me he’s missing me and he’s sorry I’ve got to work late again. It’s not serious yet, but maybe it could be one day. After so many disappointing relationships, it’s nice to be dating such a reassuring man for a change. He’s always texting to ask where I am and what I’m doing.
Can’t wait to see you tonight. That’s odd. I’m not seeing him tonight. Wear that purple lingerie set I bought you. It looks sexy on you but it will look even better on the bedroom floor. Again, odd. I don’t own a purple lingerie set. Nia’s working late again. Thank God for this shop she’s got. We’ll have all night without her constant needy texts.
It instantly makes sense. Oh, great. Not only am I dating another cheater, I’m dating a cheater who thinks “it’ll look better on the bedroom floor” is original or even slightly seductive and thinks my texts are needy. I thought I was being romantic. I thought he liked me because he’s always texting to find out what I’m up to. I should’ve realised it’s because he’s carefully scheduling his purple lingerie appointments.
A few seconds later, my phone beeps again.
Hah! Had you going, didn’t I? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Does he think it becomes funnier with the more “ha”s he includes?
It beeps again. Obviously I was joking. Nia? Nia?? Nia???
I wait until he’s added an abnormal number of question marks and then text back. Oh, go schnitzel yourself, twatspangle. Enjoy your night with Ms Purple Lingerie. You won’t be getting to see my lingerie ever again, purple or not.
I delete the last bit before I send it. My lingerie is mostly a sort of off-greyish colour because I accidentally washed it with a black T-shirt. The mention of it is not going to make him fall at my feet and question his life choices.
I should probably feel sad, but we’d only been seeing each other for a couple of months. It wasn’t serious. And there’s become a sense of inevitability about it now. Every relationship is the same. Boy meets Girl, Boy is cute and funny, Girl does everything by the book and presents herself as most perfect specimen of normality she can muster – IE: Boy doesn’t know Girl bleaches arm hair and plucks out occasional hag whisker. Things seem to be going well for Boy and Girl, and then … Boy cheats on Girl. Repeat ad infinitum.
My phone beeps again. Sorry, Nia.
At least he sent it to the right person this time. And had the decency to apologise, which is more than can be said for the last three cheating boyfriends.
I put my phone down on the desk and pick up one of the blank nutcracker silhouettes I’m painting and lift it away from the string it’s attached to. ‘What am I doing wrong?’ I ask it.
It doesn’t answer. Maybe it’s the answer in itself – talking to wooden Christmas decorations.
Strings of tiny, flat nutcracker soldiers are laid out in front of me and I move along the desk as I put a coat of primer on each wooden figure so they’ve got plenty of time to dry overnight, and tomorrow I can start painting in the details like faces and brightly coloured clothing.
Maybe it’s a good thing that it’s ended. Now I won’t have to worry about working late and not spending enough time with someone and can concentrate entirely on the shop and making it the biggest success it can be. Having my own shop on Nutcracker Lane is what I’ve wanted my entire life. It’s good that
