Kate Hardy - Their Christmas Dream Come True

“Why are you being so nice?” she whispered

Because you’re the love of my life and I hate to see you hurting. I want to make you feel better. Not that he was going to tell her that. It wasn’t the right time. “Because I care, Tally. Whatever happened between us, I still care.” He still loved her. And he always would.

Somehow—Kit couldn’t even remember moving—he was sitting down, on his own chair this time, and Natalie was sitting on his lap. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. And he was kissing her eyelids, tiny butterfly kisses brushing her eyes, her temples. The lightest, lightest touch. A moth’s wing against the candle flame.

And he was burning.

“Kit…”

But her voice wasn’t saying stop. It was saying go on.

For me, Christmas is a magical time: a time to spend with my family; a time for going to my children’s Christmas nativity plays; a time for finding that special something to put in their stockings to make their eyes light up on Christmas morning.

But sometimes Christmas is a sad time, when we miss those who are no longer with us or just wish that things were different. My daughter’s first Christmas was one of those—spent in a hospital, at the age of seven weeks, with bronchiolitis. Her three-year-old brother asked plaintively on Christmas Eve if Santa was going to bring his baby sister home for Christmas, and it broke my heart to say no.

So when my editor asked if I could write her a Christmas story, I knew exactly where to start—with a “but for the grace of God” moment. (That’s why the book is dedicated to my daughter—now a very lively “princess.”) Kit and Tally were ripped apart by what happened to them six years ago, but in Their Christmas Dream Come True they’re thrown together again. The book’s about how they work things out…and there really is a light at the end of the tunnel. The kind of light that makes Christmas wishes come true.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I’m always delighted to hear from readers, so do come and visit me at www.katehardy.com.

With love,

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Chloë, my very special daughter

Cover

Excerpt “Why are you being so nice?” she whispered Because you’re the love of my life and I hate to see you hurting. I want to make you feel better. Not that he was going to tell her that. It wasn’t the right time. “Because I care, Tally. Whatever happened between us, I still care.” He still loved her. And he always would. Somehow—Kit couldn’t even remember moving—he was sitting down, on his own chair this time, and Natalie was sitting on his lap. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. And he was kissing her eyelids, tiny butterfly kisses brushing her eyes, her temples. The lightest, lightest touch. A moth’s wing against the candle flame. And he was burning. “Kit…” But her voice wasn’t saying stop. It was saying go on.

Dear Reader Dear Reader Dear Reader Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN EPILOGUE Extract Copyright , For me, Christmas is a magical time: a time to spend with my family; a time for going to my children’s Christmas nativity plays; a time for finding that special something to put in their stockings to make their eyes light up on Christmas morning. But sometimes Christmas is a sad time, when we miss those who are no longer with us or just wish that things were different. My daughter’s first Christmas was one of those—spent in a hospital, at the age of seven weeks, with bronchiolitis. Her three-year-old brother asked plaintively on Christmas Eve if Santa was going to bring his baby sister home for Christmas, and it broke my heart to say no. So when my editor asked if I could write her a Christmas story, I knew exactly where to start—with a “but for the grace of God” moment. (That’s why the book is dedicated to my daughter—now a very lively “princess.”) Kit and Tally were ripped apart by what happened to them six years ago, but in Their Christmas Dream Come True they’re thrown together again. The book’s about how they work things out…and there really is a light at the end of the tunnel. The kind of light that makes Christmas wishes come true. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I’m always delighted to hear from readers, so do come and visit me at www.katehardy.com . With love, Kate Hardy

Title Page Their Christmas Dream Come True Kate Hardy www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication For Chloë, my very special daughter

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

SO THIS was it. Natalie’s first day as a doctor—a pre-registration house officer, if you wanted to split hairs, but a brand-new doctor was still a doctor. Her hospital ID badge said DR NATALIE WILKINS. This was what she’d worked for. Hard. Against everyone’s advice. And she’d finally made it. So what if she was six years older than the other house officers? The important thing was, she’d been offered a six months’ post in the paediatric department of St Joseph’s hospital.

Not the same hospital as Ethan—

Natalie cut the thought short before it could grab hold and choke her with remembered misery.

Paediatrics was probably the toughest option she could have chosen. Six years ago, she’d thought she’d never be able to walk onto a children’s ward again. But she could do it and she would do it. Six months here, six months in emergency medicine, then back to paediatrics. Next move: senior house officer. Two years’ further training and she’d be taking the paediatric specialist exams. And from there she’d make a real difference. Maybe stop other parents going through—

No. She wasn’t going to think about that now. She had work to do.

She headed for the reception desk on the ward and introduced herself to the maternal-looking nurse in the dark blue uniform who was working through a stack of patient files. ‘I was told to report here.’

Even though she’d tried to sound cool, calm and professional, some of her first-day nerves must have shown, because the nurse gave her a beaming smile. ‘Hello, love. Welcome to Nightingale Ward. I’m Debbie Jacobs, the senior sister—I was off duty when you came for interview. You’ve got a few minutes until Lenox arrives, so let me show you where everything is.’