LITMIR.BIZ

      Greg drifted into what passed for wakefulness in time to hear the clock in the small courtyard outside the Common Room window chiming out midnight.

      Silence fell and he sat up straight, easing his shoulders to iron out a few of the kinks. There was a scraping outside in the corridor, a dull thud, and… If he didn’t know better he would have said that the clatter was the sound of chains.

      Greg was suddenly awake, his eyes straining in the darkness—and then clamped shut as white light suddenly hit his retinas, burning the outline of a shadowy figure into his mind’s eye.

      ‘Greg!’

      ‘What… ? Jess… ?’

      He blinked against the light streaming in through the open door and slowly began to make her out. She had on the same red coat that she’d been wearing when he’d seen her last. His mouth went dry. When he’d seen her last…

      When he’d seen her last he’d been kissing her.

      The length of chain slung over her shoulder and trailing behind her on the floor was new, and she hadn’t been quite so grimy then either. The temptation to reach out and touch her, pretend she had a smudge on her cheek so that he could wipe it away, was almost irresistible.

       Dear Reader

      Since the earliest times people have gathered together and told each other stories. Stories about things they’ve seen or done, funny stories, sad stories, tales with a moral to them. In the times when books were only available to the very privileged few storytelling was a way of passing on knowledge and experience, of sharing and understanding who we are.

      And Christmas is a time for storytelling. It’s a way of looking back, making sense of the past, of looking at our lives now and giving us direction for the future. No wonder Once upon a time… are four of the most powerful and magical words in our language.

      Jess Saunders shares my own love of storytelling, and when she’s put in charge of the hospital’s Christmas pageant it’s one of the things that she’s bound to include. Inspired by A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, she’s determined to make this year one to remember—but she’s not prepared for how this wonderful story might touch her own life.

      Thank you for sharing Greg and Jess’s story with me. I always love to hear from readers, and you can contact me via my website at www.annieclaydon.com

       Annie

      Cursed from an early age with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. After completing her degree in English Literature, she indulged her love of romantic fiction and spent a long, hot summer writing a book of her own. It was duly rejected and life took over. A series of U-turns led in the unlikely direction of a career in computing and information technology, but the lure of the printed page proved too much to bear, and she now has the perfect outlet for the stories which have always run through her head, writing Medical Romance^™ for Mills & Boon^® . Living in London, a city where getting lost can be a joy, she has no regrets for having taken her time in working her way back to the place that she started from.

      Once Upon A

      Christmas Night…

      Annie Claydon

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      To Cassie and George, with much love.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Excerpt

       About the Author

       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

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      GREG SHAW OPENED the door of the doctors’ common room, not bothering to switch on the light, and slung himself into a chair. All he wanted was sleep. He could have done with A few days off in between returning from America and resuming his job, but what you wanted wasn’t always what you got. A day to get over the jet lag, unpack and restock the larder hadn’t been enough and he’d had to satisfy himself with doing none of those things with any degree of completeness.

      He should go home. Catch some sleep before he was due back on shift again tomorrow. He tried to work up enough enthusiasm to propel himself into action by promising himself a hot shower and a cooked meal, but the relief of sitting here alone outweighed all of that at the moment. In the darkness, he was hardly aware of the fact that his eyes were closing.

      ‘Is it always so hot in here?’ Jessie Saunders picked her way down the steep concrete steps, which seemed to lead directly into a sauna.

      ‘No idea. Apparently the quickest way through is via the boiler room.’ Reena was having to shout now, to make herself heard over the din. ‘Watch out for that handrail, it wobbles terribly.’

      ‘So it’s fair to assume that Health and Safety haven’t

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