She lives in Norwich in the east of England with her husband, two children, springer spaniel, and too many books to count. She’s a bit of a nerd who loves cinema, the theatre, ballroom dancing history and cooking (which is why she has to go to the gym five times a week!), and adores anything Italian.
Reviewers say that her books are full of warmth, heart and charm – and also that you’ll learn something new and interesting from them! Kate also writes bestselling local history books under the name of Pamela Brooks.
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“Maybe.” Mitch couldn’t remember his dreams as a kid. Other than the need to get away as soon as he could. “Was that your dream—to be a pastry chef?”
“Yes. I always loved cooking, but especially cakes and desserts. I loved it when Betty came over to stay with us in the summer. She taught me how to make a proper gingerbread house.” Ellie smiled. “I made one for her to take into the hospital with her earlier this week.”
It didn’t surprise him. He’d already worked out that she was the sort who’d think of others.
He parked in the street as close to her place as he could. It looked as if it was one of the traditional Philadelphia row houses: three stories, with a flat roof and a bay window on the ground floor.
“I guess this is home, then,” he said.
What she said made perfect common sense—but it also gave Mitch an odd feeling. He wasn’t used to anyone being concerned about him. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“My family’s all in London and my godmother’s in hospital. I don’t have any plans other than visiting her tomorrow, so you’re no inconvenience to me.”
She wrinkled her nose. It was incredibly cute, and it made Mitch want to lean over and kiss her.
No, they wouldn’t. He’d been gone too long. He shook his head. “There’s nobody to worry about me.”
“Nobody? But—won’t you be seeing your family or friends for Christmas?”
“Not everyone celebrates Christmas.”
She flushed deeply, looking mortified. “Oh, no. What with you being Santa, I made the wrong assumption. I’m sorry. Obviously you’re Jewish.”
“No, I’m not Jewish. I just don’t celebrate Christmas.” “Why not?”?“Just call me Ebenezer,” he said lightly.
“Ebenezer Scrooge wouldn’t help out at a kids’ party and donate the gifts,” she pointed out, frowning.
“Even so. Scrooge still would’ve said no.”
“I just don’t like Christmas. I don’t have particularly good memories of it when I was growing up.” The words came out before he could stop them.
She was practically a stranger and here he was, spilling his guts to her.
Big mistake. He needed to get going. Like now.
And yet there was no pity in her face when she looked at him. Just warmth and understanding. “I apologize for being pushy and nosy. Come in and have some coffee and warm up.”
He should say no. Make an excuse. Drive away as fast as the snow would let him.?But there was something about her he couldn’t resist, and he found himself saying thank you, locking his car, and following her into the house.
Excerpt from TIS THE SEASON TO KISS SANTA ©2013 by Kate Hardy. All rights reserved.
Series: A Baby It's Cold Outside novella
Length: 95 pages
Publisher: Entangled: Indulgence (November 1, 2013)
With the help of a sprig of mistletoe and some snow angels, a recently single pastry chef teaches a highly successful and sexy Scrooge the true meaning of the holidays on a snowy Christmas Eve that quickly heats up.
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