Will anyone go a’waltzing this Christmas or is the ball over before it’s begun?
About the Book:
As head of the
festival committee it falls to Tilly Sullivan to organise the annual Christmas
Ball each year. However when the venue burns to the ground with only four days
to go, she’s left with a huge task, and it looks like an impossible one as
everywhere else is booked solid.
Leo Keely has the
only place big enough to host the party, however he has a huge issue with
Christmas and Australian women whose surname is Sullivan.
A winter storm,
fallen trees, and a corrupt mayor all conspire to make certain that this the
year the ball doesn’t happen. However Tilly isn’t a woman to give up. And if it
means convincing Leo that his is the only venue left in town, that’s what
she’ll do.
$3.99 Ebook
White Rose Publishing
My review:
Revell’s latest addition to her wide repertoire is an
utterly charming quick holiday read with all the right Bridget Jones goofiness romance
readers love, minus the naughtiness.
When the acting mayor of a small English town does a
suspicious reverse on the beloved traditional community Christmas ball, aided
by the torching of the venue, it’s up to event organizer Tilly Sullivan to sort
things out. Four days until Christmas seems like enough time to switch venues
but for one problem after another. At her last possible chance venue for the
dance, an old manor house with a crotchety owner in residence, a storm takes
out the power, her car, and she later learns, her apartment.
What could get worse?
Falling for the crotchety owner, of course! Twisted family
history, secrets, a wise aunt and giddy youthful sister add to the fun of this
story. Tilly, as you can probably guess, is an Australian transplant. Reminding
Leo Keely, the bitter manor owner, that bah-humbugging Christmas is passé, Tilly,
Leo’s little sister Arabella who has her own reasons to demand the ball must go
on, and Aunt Mildred stir up Christmas cheer. In the meantime, Tilly, who’s
also a city council member, helps to expose as many secrets as there are days
until Christmas, and is unsurprisingly “rewarded” for her efforts. Leo, who’s
been biding his time as a Luddite, wakes up more than his latent Christmas
spirit.
It’s cheers and cheesy holiday sweaters, or jumpers—what a
hoot—all around as the community faith is restored in time for a memorable
Christmas. I loved this lighthearted romantic tale.
Enjoy an excerpt:
The phone
continued to ring. Curiosity got the better of her. Without opening her eyes,
she reached out and grabbed the handset. “Matilda Sullivan speaking.”
“Have you seen
the news?” Millicent Awning, her best friend and her personal assistant, spoke
quickly and without preamble.
Tilly sighed.
“No.” She wasn’t going to ask why, she could guess. “Why are you phoning me
from the room next door?”
“I’m not. I’m
currently stuck in traffic on the bypass. The Birches is on fire although you
probably already know that. It’s all over the radio and probably the TV as
well.”
“What channel?”
Did she really want to see how bad the fire was? Yes. She had to know. She rose
and crossed the room to the TV and reached for the remote control.
“Try the BBC
first. But I imagine it’d be on all of them. It’s one massive fire. Twenty
pumps in attendance at the last count.”
Tilly flicked on
the TV and turned to the news channel. Shock ricocheted through her as she
stood transfixed in front of the box. Flames surrounded the historic eighteenth
century building, leaping from every window, licking up all four sides. An
aerial view showed the roof had collapsed. It was worse than the initial phone
call had made it seem.
A tiny squeak
escaped and Tilly dropped to her knees on the cold office floor. What was she
going to do now? A small fire they could have worked around, but this…?
“What are you
going to do?” Millicent’s voice dragged Tilly’s attention back to the phone.
The same thought she’d had, the same question she was now going to be asked a
million times from several different people. Over and over again.
“I have no idea.
I’ll see you when you get in.” Tilly ended the call and dropped the handset to
the floor beside her. “Maybe.” She blinked hard and rubbed her hands over her
face.
All her hard work
gone. She’d spent the better part of the last week helping the owners of the
gorgeous hotel decorate the ballroom and entrance hall to match her theme. Each
year was different. This year, they told her she had excelled herself. Her best
yet. The ball had sold out weeks ago. Now she’d have to refund all three
hundred tickets. Not to mention compensate the caterers, musicians…
She broke off the
thought. Guilt ran rampant. What if someone was hurt? Surely that should have
been her first concern, not the fact her planning was now literally in ashes.
She groaned
again. Rolling off her knees, she lay face down and gave into the urge to
scream and hit the floor. It didn’t help. She sucked in a deep breath. She
could almost hear her mother’s voice. “Pride cometh before a fall, Matilda, and
a haughty spirit before destruction.”
She closed her
eyes. Was it a sin to take a modicum of pride in her work? It’s not like she
was doing it for herself? OK, she’d get as much fun out of the ball as the next
person, but she was doing it for the town. It wasn’t Christmas without the
ball. And now for the first time in the years she’d been doing the job, there
would be no ball.
About the Author:
Clare is a British author. She lives in a small town just outside
Reading, England with her husband, whom she married in 1992, their three
children, and unfriendly mini-panther, aka Tilly the black cat. They have
recently been joined by Hedwig and Sirius the guinea pigs. Clare is half
English and half Welsh, which makes watching rugby interesting at times as it
doesn’t matter who wins.
Writing from an early childhood and encouraged by her teachers, she graduated
from rewriting fairy stories through fan fiction to using her own original
characters and enjoys writing an eclectic mix of romance, crime fiction and
children's stories. When she's not writing, she can be found reading,
crocheting or doing the many piles of laundry the occupants of her house manage
to make.
Her books are based in the UK, with a couple of exceptions, thus, although the
spelling may be American in some of them, the books contain British language
and terminology and the more recent ones are written in UK English.
The first draft of every novel is hand written.
She has been a Christian for more than half her life. She goes to Carey Baptist
where she is one of four registrars.
