By M. C. Beaton
Unique booklet: 1999
Christmas is an old Roman competition, to not be celebrated by way of first rate people within the Scottish Highlands. Police Constable Hamish Macbeth has regularly enjoyed the festivities, yet this 12 months his family members is traveling in sunny Florida. he's caught with the lengthy, lonely Christmas shift in freezing Lochdubh. A cranky previous girl kicks off the vacations via reporting her cat lacking. Then the Christmas lighting and tree in a close-by village disappear quickly after the neighborhood council voted to permit undefined. As Hamish reveals the way to carry Christmas to the Highlands and make a bit girl's goals come precise, he unearths -- to his satisfaction -- that he has the simplest Christmas ever.
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Extra resources for A Highland Christmas (Hamish Macbeth)
Damn. She was a redhead. " "She's a twenty-five-year-old belly dancer, Jack, which may be entertaining to you personally but won't exactly send the right message to voters. " "The color might be from a bottle, but it looks good on her. And for the record, Tina is a pediatric nurse who only moonlights as a belly dancer. " "Good. " Jack chuckled, staring up in exasperation at the room's ornate pressed-tin ceiling. —I'm suddenly overcome with the urge to commit? Please. " "People change, Jack. The voters would accept that you've matured, that you found the right woman and decided to settle down.
My best friend already knows. Her name is Monte McQueen, and she works with me at the salon, and she was there the night Kara came over. Her son, Simon, knows too. " "How about you? " Samantha blinked. "Right. Your mother. I read about her. She's this society bigwig, right? " The choking feeling was upon him again, and Jack yanked at his tie. Marguerite Dickinson Tolliver was going to go postal when she heard about this—no doubt about it. The great disappointment of her existence was that at the age of thirty-eight her only child had yet to select a beautiful woman of status and grace with whom to procreate, naming the whole lot of them Something Dickinson Tollivers.
It was time for a Montessori smack down. "My determination to take good care of my kids is the only reason I've let your ridiculously uppity school hold me hostage for the last six months—it's kept me sane to know Dakota was safe and nurtured while I work. " "Ms. Monroe. Really—" "I work incredibly hard to keep a roof over Dakota's head, along with the heads of his brother and sister, which makes a total of three heads, unless you count the dog, and that would make four heads! And if you add my own head, we're talking five!