Free WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel by JILL STEEPLES Page A

whiling away the hours at a snail’s pace, waiting for some passing fish to play ball.
    ‘Isn’t this just the best way to spend the day?’ Rocco looked across at me and grinned. I was beginning to suspect he had extra-sensory powers; he was making a habit of answering my unvoiced questions.
    ‘Yeah, great,’ I said, trying and failing to sound enthused, but in all honesty this was killing me. My bottom was parked on a checked blanket on the side of the lake, the cool dampness penetrating through into my bones. My fingers clasped the mug of coffee I’d been nursing for most of the morning.
    ‘Not too cold are you?’
    ‘No,’ I fibbed, having never felt colder in my life. It was f-f-f-flipping . . . f-f-f-freezing. In fact, I was beginning to shiver so much that I had to ease myself up from my uncomfortable position on the floor before I seized up completely. My joints protesting, I wandered over to where the film crew were setting up to start filming.
    ‘Are we about ready to go?’ Surely we must be. It felt as if we’d been here a lifetime. Since I’d started working with Rocco, time had flown by, but for some reason things were dragging interminably this morning. Either that or my watch had stopped.
    ‘Yep,’ Dave said, looking up from his camera. ‘All ready. You all right?’ he asked, looking concerned. ‘You look a bit peaky.’
    God, what was the matter with everyone this morning? So I didn’t look my best in these near arctic conditions, but then who would? Pandora, I supposed. I could just imagine her in a fur-lined cape and boots looking suitably ice-queenish. Why didn’t they all just get on with what they should be doing instead of fretting over me? I nodded and sank deeper into my anorak.
    ‘Fine, just a bit cold that’s all. Let’s make a start then, shall we?’ Come on, come on, I was yelling inside.
    Rocco and Zak had no sense of urgency. The pair of them were completely chilled in the relaxed sense, whereas I was chilled in the refrigerator sense. They were doing what they enjoyed most. Fishing, smoking, laughing, and sharing tales, mainly about the one that got away, and their previous great outdoor adventures. I knew it would make for great TV, if only for a few minutes, even if the actual filming seemed to be taking hours. The plan was that Rocco would catch a handsome brown trout or two and then we’d retire to the cottage so that he could show the viewers how to clean, prepare and cook the fish. You know the kind of thing, a hundred and one delicious ways with a trout. Only today the stars of the show — the fish that is, not Rocco, were refusing to blow bubbles.
    ‘It sometimes happens like that,’ said Zak. ‘That’s one of the joys of fishing. You never know if you’re going to come home with a huge catch or absolutely nothing. Really it’s not so much about catching fish, but the whole experience of being outside, at one with nature.’
    I nodded sagely, as if I knew exactly what he was talking about.
    ‘At one with nature. Hey, that would make a great title for the book and TV series, don’t you think, Beth?’
    I looked across at him. It was becoming more and more unnerving, how every time I looked at Rocco a strange sensation overtook me. Cold. Hot. Sweaty. Tingly. Today’s sensations, though, were like nothing I’d ever felt before. I was suddenly seeing two of him, both images smiling, two pairs of eyes beaming at me, looking sickeningly gorgeous. And then I noticed a different expression upon his face, or faces, one of uncertainty quickly followed by a look of terror. That’s when my knees buckled beneath me, my boots lifted off the ground and I landed with a thud on my backside, before sliding gracefully feet first down a muddy incline heading straight into the deep, cold water.
    * * *
    ‘Ouch! Oooh, my head!’
    Some hours later I shifted uneasily beneath the duvet, my hand instinctively reaching up to the scratches on my forehead, from when I was