Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin by Catherine Ferguson – Extract!

Summary from Amazon UK

Curl up by the fire this Christmas with the ebook bestseller Catherine Ferguson.

When Poppy’s boyfriend Harrison proposes the week before Christmas and gives her twelve days to decide, she doesn’t know what to do. With the festive season in full swing, it’s make or break time for the couple and the clock is ticking…

Meanwhile, Poppy’s best friend Erin is desperate for the pair of them to fulfil their dream of setting up a dinner party catering company – and when an opportunity arises at a luxury log fire cabin, the girls take their chance to impress. But they hadn’t bargained on the owner of the cabin being quite so attractive – or having quite such a sexy voice.

As the twelve days tick on, will Poppy realise that Harrison is the one for her? Or will it be love in the lodge when the new year comes?

Lose yourself this Christmas in the new novel from the brilliant Catherine Ferguson, perfect for cosying up with by the fire.



‘Better get home. I’ve bought oysters and some fizz for tonight,’ says Erin, showing me the bottle in her bag.

‘Ooh, what’s the occasion?’

She gives me a rather lewd wink. ‘No occasion. Except getting Mark in a loving mood, if you know what I mean.’

I grin. ‘Do I really need to know about this?’

She pulls a face. ‘He’s been a bit distracted of late. I think they’re working him too hard, poor lamb. Feeding each other oysters is sure to get us back on track.’

‘They are supposed to be an aphrodisiac.’

‘Exactly! You should try them on Harrison.’

‘Seafood brings him out in a rash. He’s more a steak pie man.’

Erin starts slip-sliding up the snowy path. ‘I’ll let you get back to your financial projections,’ she calls. ‘You’ve got a good one there, Poppy. Mark wouldn’t know his APR from his VPL.’

I grin. ‘Er, neither would I. APR? Um … Annual Percentage Thingy?’

She nods. ‘Annual Percentage Rate.’

‘And VPL?’ I cast around for possible words. ‘Very Preposterous Logarithm?’

She giggles. ‘Visible Panty Line, actually.’ Closing the gate behind her, she sets off for her flat at the other end of the high street, pausing only to call, ‘Think about Mrs Morelli.’

‘I don’t have to. It’s not happening. But thank you for this.’ I hold up the Christmas apron. She shakes her head at me with weary affection, and I wave her off.

Erin and I met six years ago when she started weekend-waitressing at The Pretty Flamingo to make extra cash to fund a course in flower arranging. She couldn’t stand working for the Nutters so she didn’t last long. But she’s since found her perfect job working in a florist’s in a neighbouring village, and her dream is to one day own her own shop.

When she first arrived at the hotel, I thought she was loud and a bit of a show-off.

Actually, I still think she’s loud and a bit of a show-off, but she’s also very kind and loyal with a fabulous sense of humour. The day I realised this, was also the day I was almost sacked by Mrs Nutter for breaking a porcelain statue of a flamingo.

I’d been serving a couple at lunch and I’d thought they were acting a bit oddly. They were already drunk when they sat down, and they spent the entire time whispering together, giggling and glancing over at me. My suspicions turned out to be right. At the end of the meal, they left without paying.

Realising what had happened, I dashed out after them, telling my friend and fellow waitress Maxine to let Mr Hastings know. I’ve no idea what I thought I was going to do – I just knew that I had to do something to stop them. I was racing through reception when my foot caught on a rug and I went flying against a big glass-fronted cabinet.



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