The Kiss Before Christmas: A Christmas Romance Novella. Sophie Pembroke

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       The Kiss Before Christmas

      Sophie Pembroke

      A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      Contents

       Copyright

       Dedication

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Sophie Pembroke

       About HarperImpulse

       About the Publisher

      HarperImpulse an imprint of

      HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      77–85 Fulham Palace Road

      Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

      Copyright © Sophie Pembroke 2013

      Cover images © Shutterstock.com

      Sophie Pembroke 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.

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      No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

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      stored in or introduced into any information storage and

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      whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

      hereinafter invented, without the express

      written permission of HarperCollins.

      Ebook Edition © December 2013

      ISBN:9780007569526

      Version 2014-10-01

      Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

      For Charlotte.

      I wouldn't be here without you.

       Chapter 1

      Dorothea Mackenzie stared at the screen, willing the words to change. They didn’t. She tried blinking. Nope, still there, in all their guilt-trip-inducing glory.

       My dearest Dory,

       We went to choose the Christmas tree yesterday, sweetheart, but it wasn’t the same without you. I think Mum was a bit sad decorating it without any of you kids around, but Molly and Tim don’t get in until the 24 ^th , and she didn’t want to leave it that late. She had ‘Lonely This Christmas’ playing on a loop. A call from you would definitely cheer her up – especially if you happened to mention your flight times (hint hint!). I can come and collect you from the airport any time on Christmas Eve, just let me know. I’ve not taken any taxi bookings the whole day, just in case.

       Love and mulled wine

       Dad x

      A definite two-pronged attack. Clever. First mentioning Mum being sad, which they all knew meant big eyes and deep sighs and very brave smiles, and which he knew Dory couldn’t stand. And then not taking any bookings on Christmas Eve, a night that promised time-and-a-half for a Liverpool cabbie, and usually some pretty good festive tips, too.

      All this despite the fact she’d told him a month and a half ago she wouldn’t be home for Christmas. Hell, she’d already posted all their presents.

      ‘They’re bringing out the big guns now, then?’ Tyler said, reading over her shoulder in that way he knew she hated. ‘How are you going to get out of that one?’

      Dory shifted her computer screen so he couldn’t see. There wasn’t a lot of point; she was pretty sure IT would send him up every email she’d ever received or sent if he asked. But it was the principle of the thing. ‘Aren’t bosses supposed to be less…’ She trailed off still in search of the right word to describe Tyler.

      ‘Charming? Handsome? Awesome?’ he guessed.

      ‘Intrusive.’

      ‘Hmm. And I thought assistants were supposed to be more fawning, generally.’ He wagged a finger at her, mock sternly. ‘Don’t think you can get away with anything, just because you’ve got that cute British accent thing going.’

      Dory was starting to suspect that her accent was the only reason he’d hired her. It certainly wasn’t to fawn over him, since she’d made it painfully clear at the job interview that that wasn’t going to happen. In fact, the exact phrase she’d used was ‘I’m not the kind of assistant who fetches your dry-cleaning and straightens your tie. I’m the kind of assistant who makes your workload lighter.’

      Dad always said she wasn’t great with subtle.

      Of course, for the brief three-month period when she’d had an assistant of her own, back at her last job