Highland Christmas-a heart-warming, laugh out loud book (SAMPLE ONLY)

The truth universally known to mothers

"I got some o' the outside of the hotel too," she added, showing them to me. "Looks awfy Christmassy, eh?"

The lights outside the hotel were OTT, though we'd yet to get around to decorating the hotel's interior. Outside, a reindeer pulled a sleigh in the garden at the front next to an enormous tree dotted with star lights and a gobo that projected holly leaves and berries on the white walls of the hotel. The electricity bills had soared.

"It's Christmas made camper," I'd said when we'd set them up a few days before. Jack raised an eyebrow. "Can you make Christmas camper?"

Probably not, but with any luck, the Lochside Welcome's Christmas lights would be one of those displays people drove to from miles around to see, dropping in for a drink or some food while there were in the area.

My phone buzzed as it had been doing all day—people reacting to my pictures on Instagram or phoning to wish Evie a Happy Birthday.

The screen showed my mum calling again. She'd already phoned early this morning in tears because she couldn't be here for her only grandchild's first birthday. Great Yarmouth was too far away to make visits easy, and Mum's budget too limited for her to able to afford a trip here for Evie's birthday and Christmas.

"Mum, hello!" I switched the phone to FaceTime mode and showed her the birthday girl now sat on the floor tearing up birthday gift wrap.

"Your brother," she replied, "wants to apologise for not having posted Evie's birthday present and card on time."

Does it count as an apology when you overhear your mum standing behind your brother, hiss-whispering that he needs to say sorry, forgetting that a mobile phone makes all that background noise clear as a bell? If Dylan had either remembered Evie's birthday or it crossed his mind that as her uncle, he should buy her a card and a present, I'd eat my Christmas cracker hat.

Mum came back on the line. "I'm so looking forward to Christmas! What a wonderful celebration it will be this year when we are all together."

"Me too!" We blew each other kisses and hung up. Yes, Christmas shimmered on the horizon in all its glittery glory. But that familiar prickle of worry whenever I thought about the future started up. Worries about money took the shine off somewhat.

This year's summer had been a stinker. Lochalshie's weather gods had lulled me into a false sense of security since I'd upped and moved sticks to the north of Scotland. Warm, dry-ish summers, the odd autumn storm and cold but dry winters. Rain started in mid-May, stopped for a day or two in June and then continued the autumn when it turned sheet like and icy. The weather deterred everyone. We'd put up with endless cancellations and days on end when the numbers in the bar didn't overtake those working in the hotel.

Evie scuttled towards the fire, Jack swooping in to whisk her up as everyone cooed in admiration and remarked yet again on how similar they looked. It's a truth universally known to mothers... All a dad needs to do is hold his baby, jiggle her up and down a bit, and he qualifies as father of the year. Meanwhile, we women stir ourselves from sleep three hours earlier than we would like, spend our days running around after our tiny tyrants juggling a job at the same time and dealing with our extended family before flopping into bed at 10pm, exhausted. Two women sharing a bottle of wine watched him, transfixed. They nudged each other, open-mouthed. Snatches of their whispered conversation drifted over. "OMG! He can father my baby any day!" "Yeah! My ovaries have just exploded!"

Just as well I'd grown accustomed to such reactions. If Jack had been a sex god before Evie appeared on the scene, nowadays he was Zeus at the top of Olympus. Women tailed him, tongues hanging out. Even if I stood next to him, waving my left hand in the air. "Ring, fourth finger, placed on said hand by the gent you're ogling!"