It’s Christmas 1946 and wounded doctor Laurence is struggling to find a way to live during peacetime. Lost in the Hampshire countryside on a snowy Christmas Eve, Laurence stumbles across lonely Mistletoe Cottage and its owner: Avery.
Avery is bright and beautiful, welcoming Laurence to his home with warmth and joy. But Laurence can’t stay forever, and Avery’s secrets mean he can never leave. When everything goes wrong, it’s up to Laurence to find a way to secure a happy-ever-after for their midwinter fairy tale.
Miracles happen every day and what better time of year to be reminded of miracles than Christmastime. Amy Rae Durreson brings to life a tale of compassion, friendship, lust, romance, history and wraps it all together in a beautiful Christmas bow. Through Laurence and Avery's story we discover two people who have been lost due to time, circumstance, their own doing, or perhaps fate but we also find two people who realize that being lost doesn't mean you can't find your way free again.
Whether you are a historical fan or not really doesn't matter because even though The Holly Groweth Green is set in a 1946 post-war English countryside, its really a journey of finding true love, finding the other half that completes you. As I often find myself saying in my reviews this time of year, it doesn't matter whether your read this tale on a cold December night or in a July heat wave because it will fill your heart with joy and hope, which are emotions we should never say no to. A lovely addition to my holiday library that I know I'll revisit for many holidays to come.
RATING:
Author Bio:
Amy Rae Durreson is a quiet Brit with a degree in early English literature, which she blames for her somewhat medieval approach to spelling, and at various times has been fluent in Latin, Old English, Ancient Greek, and Old Icelandic, though these days she mostly uses this knowledge to bore her students. Amy started her first novel a quarter of a century ago and has been scribbling away ever since. Despite these long years of experience, she has yet to master the arcane art of the semicolon. She was a winner in the 2017 Rainbow Awards.
Whether you are a historical fan or not really doesn't matter because even though The Holly Groweth Green is set in a 1946 post-war English countryside, its really a journey of finding true love, finding the other half that completes you. As I often find myself saying in my reviews this time of year, it doesn't matter whether your read this tale on a cold December night or in a July heat wave because it will fill your heart with joy and hope, which are emotions we should never say no to. A lovely addition to my holiday library that I know I'll revisit for many holidays to come.
DECEMBER 1946
THIS TRAIN clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
It had been sitting in the station for the best part of an hour now, and although at first Laurence had not minded, content to watch the snow sift down onto the white fields and tiled roof of the station house, it was starting to wear on his nerves. The train had been stationary long enough that the carriages were starting to grow cold, and he was increasingly aware of the hour—already almost three, and the light would soon be fading fast. He’d suffered from an irrational dislike of the cold and dark since the Colonsay went down, and he would like to be safely in Portsmouth before the sun set.
Wearily he heaved himself to his feet, left his compartment, and began to make his way down the train.
He found the guard in his van, making tea over a primus stove. He jumped up in surprise as Laurence came in. “Blimey, I didn’t think there was anyone still down that end of the train.”
“Is there a problem?” Laurence asked.
“We’re stuck, guv. Snow across the mouth of the West Meon tunnel ahead of us. Waiting to hear if we can get a line back to London, but there’s problems at Alton as well.”
“Good Lord,” Laurence said, because a reaction seemed to be expected. “Any chance of getting down to Portsmouth tonight?”
The guard shook his head. “We’ll be lucky to get back to town. If you make a change at Woking, maybe, but word is that the snow’s bad at Petersfield too. Wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”
“Damn.” Laurence hadn’t really been looking forward to Christmas in the Officers’ Club, but it would at least have had the comfort of familiarity. Town would mean a hotel and the weary process of making polite conversation with chance acquaintances.
“Most of the other passengers have gone over the road to The Privett Bush. If you wanted to warm up, I’ll walk over when we get the signal to depart.”
“I’ll do that, thank you. Can I bring you back a drink?”
Amy Rae Durreson is a quiet Brit with a degree in early English literature, which she blames for her somewhat medieval approach to spelling, and at various times has been fluent in Latin, Old English, Ancient Greek, and Old Icelandic, though these days she mostly uses this knowledge to bore her students. Amy started her first novel a quarter of a century ago and has been scribbling away ever since. Despite these long years of experience, she has yet to master the arcane art of the semicolon. She was a winner in the 2017 Rainbow Awards.
