I have to thank a very special reader and fan for the cover that she made for me for "A Christmas Wish" i think it is simply amazing and very artistic. Thankyou so much "Shaycoal" I am very grateful:-)

hey guys check out the song i included, it is one of my very favourite ballads, there is so much meaning in it. i believe every one can relate to it, so check it out:-)

For those of you who do like this story, i would be grateful for your support. Plz Vote and Comment and help spread the word lol :-)


 CHAPTER 1:

 THE WISH

London,

Present day;

It really was one hell of a shitty day.

Sarah didn't know which way to turn. Her big mouth had landed her in trouble once more and this time the ditch she had dug her self was far too deep to crawl out off. Who would have known that an innocuous little comment from her arsehole of a boss would start a firestorm that had ended up getting her fired. 

She should have kept her mouth closed; Sarah lambasted herself for the thousandth time. She had dealt with Andrew's disregard for personal space many times before. Gritted her teeth and got on with it for a whole year. But something had snapped that morning. The irony was that this time his comment wasn't even that bad to begin with. All he had said was, 

"Hey honey, how is my best little worker doing?"

Granted there was that all familiar undercurrent of lechery to his every word, the seemingly innocent brush of his sweaty hand on her back, his hot, rank breath too close to her ear, but that wasn't something out of the ordinary. Hadn't she been dealing with similar advances from him and every other idiot for months. Hell, Sarah had even employed her thus far successful method of counting to ten before giving him a short professional little greeting.

But somehow that wasn't what she had done on this eventful morning, not this time. 

Too much work, too little pay, and a landlord champing at the bit for rent had already debilitated the camel. All she needed was a straw to break her back, that final straw came in the form of one simple little sentence.

Sarah had let rip, and how.

If she had had a skewer at that moment she would have hooked the randy little porker and set him on fire. She couldn't even remember what she had said to him, all she remembered was standing at one end of the office with her boss in a corner of the room staring at her with fear in his beady little eyes, tiny droplets of sweat on his leathery forehead, and a telephone receiver clutched in his hand.

Next thing she knew she was being escorted none too gently from his office by two burly security guards kicking and screaming all the way down from the seventeenth floor to the front door.

Only when she stood on the cold pavement outside on a frosty London December afternoon did Sarah finally blink and shut up. 

Standing there with the lunch hour crush of office workers milling around her like busy bees Sarah grasped the gravity of the many ramifications of her hasty actions. And the realisation fell over her like a heavy, dark cloud.  Dear Lord, she had just gone and gotten her fat arse fired right before Christmas, she thought in dismay. And even though she was well within her rights to take her particular case before the tribunal and sue Andrew for wildly inappropriate sexual misconduct in the workplace. That all took time (plus her reaction and her wholly convincing Tasmanian devil impersonation just moments ago would probably not help her cause). It also needed patience, not to mention money in the bank. And Sarah did not have any of those things at her disposal. 

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