Christmas at Home: The Fated Series

By HL Packer

Christmas with friends. What could possibly go wrong? 

 

It's been one hell of a year for The Fated Series couples. Get ready to catch up with Cassidy and Devon on their one-year anniversary and their first full festive period together. 

 

Cassidy 

An overnight trip with the boyfriend, a few days with the family, and a get together of epic proportions with new friends and old. This is going to be a Christmas break to remember. 

With our new company ready to move forward, this could be the last break in a while, and I'm keen to make the most of it. Let's just hope it doesn't end up being a rerun of last year... 

 

Devon 

There's a little secret burning a hole in my pocket, and I can't wait to share it. I'm going to wine her and dine her and make her mine forever, if only she says yes. 

Hopefully my family take it for the good news it will be, if it all goes my way. Otherwise, this could be a Christmas for the books...

• Language: English
• Publisher: HL Packer
• Release date: Nov 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215249161

HL Packer

H.L. Packer is, quite frankly, a busy bee. An avid reader as a child, her love for all things written waned into adulthood, the excitement of real life things taking over. But when her life slowed down as she finished her office job for maternity leave, her husband purchased her an e-reader, and that obsession was rekindled. Quickly she went from reader to reviewer, and then from reviewer to blogger; street teams and promo tours galore. When she began collating her own book boxes over at Romance Readers Book Box UK and had the opportunity to include her own words and worlds, the characters began talking. Those cheeky characters quickly found themselves written down on the page, and her first series was in progress. When she is not coordinating her worlds, you can find her running around after her free-spirited three children, and husband, or tending to the dogs, bearded dragons, and snakes that also reside with them. A break can be found soaking in a bubble bath or enjoying a glass of wine, often still with a book in her hand. H.L. Packer is, quite frankly, a busy bee. An avid reader as a child, her love for all things written waned into adulthood, the excitement of real life things taking over. But when her life slowed down as she finished her office job for maternity leave, her husband purchased her an e-reader, and that obsession was rekindled. Quickly she went from reader to reviewer, and then from reviewer to blogger; street teams and promo tours galore. When she began collating her own book boxes over at Romance Readers Book Box UK and had the opportunity to include her own words and worlds, the characters began talking. Those cheeky characters quickly found themselves written down on the page, and her first series was in progress. When she is not coordinating her worlds, you can find her running around after her free-spirited three children, and husband, or tending to the dogs, bearded dragons, and snakes that also reside with them. A break can be found soaking in a bubble bath or enjoying a glass of wine, often still with a book in her hand.

Book preview

One Cassidy

P ass me that, I whisper from the doorway. You’re supposed to be resting.

"Resting, shmesting. I’ve done bugger all for months and now she’s finally sleeping I want to get on with something," Jess grumbles amongst the dust sheets, fidgeting with the top of a paint tin she attempts to open.

I don’t know how you do anything at all, I reply honestly, pushing up off the door frame and making my way to where she sits. I would spend the whole day sat staring at her beautiful little angelic face.

Pah. She scoffs, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t angelic at three o’clock this morning when she was screaming blue murder. I swear, the neighbours must think I’m doing something awful to her.

Good job you’re getting good neighbours then, huh? I smile, nudging her arm, the lid lifting from the paint tin at the same time.

Well, I heard they’re a bit noisy. No sense of personal space either, she replies dryly, side-eying me with a vengeance.

As if you’d have us any other way. I chuckle lightly, moving the paint trays closer for her to fill.

Well, that’s true enough. She smiles, self-consciously adjusting her T-shirt and tugging the hem down.

The circles under her eyes are a bit darker than they used to be, the thickness of her hair just starting to wane in that way it does post-baby––or so I’m told. She’s got a few more curves than she used to carry and she looks great––motherhood suits my best friend.

Are you actually gonna help me with this, or just stand there gawping at me? she asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

As if you could do this before he got home without my help? I chuckle. "Andrew would have a fit if he knew you were painting in the first place. He’d be in here banging on his chest and telling you to sit down and rest, and you know it."

Fine, fine, I concede. Now, let’s get this started before she wakes up again. She hurries pouring the paint, eyeing the doorway warily.

Pushing the sheet up against the skirting board, we start around the window, me up the ladder and Jess working from the floor upwards, meeting in the middle as we edge around one wall.

You know I’ll just be next door if you ever need anything, even at three o’clock in the morning, I comment idly.

I know, chick, I know. She sighs. "But some things you just have to work through. It’s not forever. I just need to keep going."

"I bloody love Finding Nemo." I smile, getting the hidden reference.

Yeah, I know. She laughs, swearing as her line wobbles. You’re gonna be the Disney aunty, the one that will sit with her and watch all that princess nonsense I can’t stand and fill her head full of fairytales. And Faith will be the hippe aunty, and show her how to make moon water and explain what all the different rocks do, supposedly.

Yep, I agree with a nod. Someone has to do it, and we are up for that challenge. Sophie can be the one to take her shopping and show her all about couture and fashion.

Jess chuckles, shaking her head as we spend the next fifteen minutes quietly working our way around the edges of the room. I climb from the ladder, grabbing the rollers and offering one to Jess, when a telltale grumble comes from the next room.

Here we go, again. Jess sighs with a drop of her shoulders, looking around the room at the small amount we managed to get done before Hope woke up again.

You get on with this. I smile, dropping the paint brush and roller onto the spare tray. I’ll go and get her ladyship and make a cuppa, shall I?

Don’t bother, she grumbles. She’ll want feeding.

She’ll be fine with Aunty Cass for five minutes. Make a start. I smile, ignoring her mumblings as I lope across the room before she has the opportunity to get up from the floor.

Wiping my hands on a towel as I go, I quickly nip into the next room, scooping up the half-awake bundle of warmth and wrapping the blanket around her protectively.

Hey there, beautiful girl. How are we feeling this morning? I coo.

She can’t understand you, Jess shouts.

Shut up and paint, she can hear me just fine, I reply. Now then, shall we make your grumpy mummy a nice hot cup of coffee? Yes, yes we shall.

Hope peers up at me with big grey-blue eyes, her starry innocence shining bright and clear. The contrast with her dark hair is going to make her a beauty when she’s older. I mean, she’s already the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.

Bundling her in my arms, we make our way to the kitchen, flicking the coffee machine on as I hunt out the cups.

Top left cupboard, Jess calls, my clattering about evidently making her aware of my inability to find anything.

I thank her, finding the biggest mugs and filling them with a generous amount of coffee. Hope nestles in against my chest, her mouth brushing against my breast as a whine falls from her.

Ah, Jess…

Yeah?

I think she needs you.

The tiny bundle goes from lax and content, watching the world go by, to a tiny ball of frustration right before my very eyes as the whine of barely seconds ago mutates, her little face scrunching up as her body twists in my arms, the cry unleashing from her with fury.

Oh dear, Hope, I’m afraid there’s nothing in there for you, I placate gently. Leaving the mugs on the side, I carry her through to the near-empty room where her mother waits. Don’t worry, it’s coming, baby girl, I attempt to explain.

Jess pulls the throw cover off the gliding chair, dropping into the seat heavily with a sigh.

Here we go, look, Mama’s got you, I say over the wailing, carefully passing the baby to Jess. Mere seconds later, the noise stops, the soft sounds of her suckling filling the space instead. I’ll just grab those coffees. Shall I put some music on?

Go for it. Jess smiles from the chair, her gaze fixed on that of her daughter, Hope’s tiny fingers gently wrapped around one of hers.

It takes longer than I expect to find the right tiny remote in the over-organised apartment, but eventually, it turns up and I find a radio station with Christmas music playing. Might as well get in the festive mood, hadn’t we?

The music filters quietly throughout the apartment as I retrieve the coffees, carefully placing Jess’ on the table to her side before taking a huge gulp of the scorching liquid myself and leaving mine there too.

So, do you have everything ready for Christmas? Do you need me to pick anything up for you? I ask, grabbing the roller from the tray.

No, thanks, I think I’ve got everything. I did most of the ordering online after the move, some kind of nesting, or attempting to be organised, or whatever, but wrapping gifts around this one has proven tricky. You?

Oh, you know me, I had Christmas organised months ago. I’ve just been waiting for this little one to make her appearance so I could get the final bits together.

I can’t believe you always have everything done so far in advance. She chuckles gently, shaking her head.

I can’t help myself, I reply, resting the roller tray on the ladders as I climb up them, reaching to the far corner. "I just see something and think that would be perfect for whoever and then I have to buy it." I shrug.

I need your buying skills, because mine fucking suck.

Flipping, I correct without looking. "Yours