Let it Sew #1
It’s the day before the last day of term and Year One teacher Harry Britton has a problem: all of the costumes for his nativity play have been destroyed by accident. The only person who can possibly help him is Edward Saunders, who runs a small tailor and alterations shop in the village.
Edward is more than a little shocked to be asked to make seventeen costumes for five year old children—he’s more comfortable making bespoke men’s suits. But there’s something beguiling and utterly charming about Harry Britton, so despite all his hesitations, he agrees to help.
Edward is more than a little shocked to be asked to make seventeen costumes for five year old children—he’s more comfortable making bespoke men’s suits. But there’s something beguiling and utterly charming about Harry Britton, so despite all his hesitations, he agrees to help.
We Whisk You a Merry Christmas #2
Summary:After years working in fancy French patisseries, Alex Blake thought he was ready for a change of pace with his new independent bakery, but the demands of a small village at Christmas mean earlier mornings than he’s ever worked before.
It’s still a shock when he walks into the kitchen one morning and finds a man asleep on his counter.
Brandon Walker only meant to sneak into the bakery his father used to own to have a look around. He definitely didn’t mean to take a nap and get caught by the new owner. But when Alex asks for help Brandon finds it hard to refuse… it’s the season of goodwill to attractive men, or something like that.
Summary:
Josh Turner is the proud owner of a small garden centre, OK Bloomer, that he inherited from his grandparents. It sits on the edge of a picturesque woodland area in Yorkshire, and despite his efforts to expand the business, Josh is struggling to compete with the evil conglomerate garden centre a few miles down the road.
Lucas Gordon moved to a tiny village in Yorkshire to escape a TikTok meme that has haunted him since the summer. The cottage he bought needs massive renovations which are sure to keep him out of trouble until at least the spring. But when Josh recognises him from the meme, Lucas feels like his world is crashing down all over again.
Josh needs help keeping the garden centre afloat during the winter, and Lucas needs a distraction—and a little festive romance wouldn’t hurt, either.
Original Review December 2019:
In my reading experience tailors of higher end quality items, whether they are in a large or small shop, tend to be a bit on the snooty side, thinking they are a little above everyday/off the rack items. Edward Saunders is not and I think that was what made me love him from the very beginning. When Harry Britton comes into his shop and is in need of children's costumes for a school Christmas play Edward sounds hesitant for a few minutes then sees the desperation on Harry's face and jumps in with his whole heart. Of course the chemistry between Edward and Harry is also extremely lovely, sweet, cute, and completely believable all the way. Holiday tales tend to bank on the magic of the season and in a way Let it Sew does the same, Harry's desperate need for costumes quickly brings the two together and because of the time spent with each other they talk and learn things that might normally take several chapters and several dates. It's this very same need and timing that makes the chemistry and "insta-connection" so believable and enjoyable. Another gem for my holiday library.
In my reading experience tailors of higher end quality items, whether they are in a large or small shop, tend to be a bit on the snooty side, thinking they are a little above everyday/off the rack items. Edward Saunders is not and I think that was what made me love him from the very beginning. When Harry Britton comes into his shop and is in need of children's costumes for a school Christmas play Edward sounds hesitant for a few minutes then sees the desperation on Harry's face and jumps in with his whole heart. Of course the chemistry between Edward and Harry is also extremely lovely, sweet, cute, and completely believable all the way. Holiday tales tend to bank on the magic of the season and in a way Let it Sew does the same, Harry's desperate need for costumes quickly brings the two together and because of the time spent with each other they talk and learn things that might normally take several chapters and several dates. It's this very same need and timing that makes the chemistry and "insta-connection" so believable and enjoyable. Another gem for my holiday library.
We Whisk You a Merry Christmas #2
Original Review December 2020:
Anna Martin's Christmas story, Let is Sew from last year was one of my favorites so when I saw she had another one coming this holiday season I was all on board. I was not disappointed. Brandon and Alex have this awkward yet super cute first meet and though they have some bumps initially, it's pretty obvious the attraction is there. One of the things I really appreciated wasn't actually involving the connection between the two men, it was how Brandon was okay with his mom selling the family bakery. Some authors might have went for the typical son-hating-the-sale-to-create-drama route but Anna Martin does not and for this reader that was a definite plus. Speaking of Brandon's mom, I love her and though she may not fit the "matchmaker" bill exactly she "dabbles" in it and I gotta love that especially at the holidays.
We Whisk You a Merry Christmas is a delightful holiday tale that warms the heart and puts a smile on your face. Could this story have been better had it been longer? Perhaps. Would the story have benefitted from an epilogue letting us know what Brandon and Alex are up to next Christmas? Sure, I'm all for knowing more with characters I love. Sometimes, especially and most often with holiday stories, an author(intentional or not) tells us just enough so the reader can "fill in the blanks" with their imagination and for me that gives me an added connection to the characters. So frankly and simply put, We Whisk You a Merry Christmas is just the right size and makes for a lovely holiday gem.
Minter Wonderland #3
Original Review December 2024:
How I haven't read this in 3 years is beyond me because I loved the first two and this has been on my kindle since it's release, oh well, whatever the reason I finally got time to read it and loved it!
Josh and Lucas are perfectly delicious. Their cute meet is full of chemistry that suddenly turns awkward when Josh recognizes Lucas from an earlier social media video that went viral with all kinds of embarrassment for Lucas. Once the second meet occurrs and Josh removes his foot from his mouth, all is good, still a wee bit awkward but good.
As always, Anna Martin's Christmas Shorts are compact but full of everything festive and rom-commy that delights the reader to very core. If you weren't feeling the holiday magic yet, you will after diving into Minter Wonderland.
Let it Sew #1
On the last Thursday before Christmas, Edward’s shop was quiet. He hadn’t minded in the morning; Edward liked to take the mornings slowly, waking up with multiple cups of tea while he worked on anything that had been left over from the previous day. Business often picked up around lunchtime.
With the hammering rain outside creating a lovely background tune for his task, Edward finished the repairs on an old smoking jacket and carefully set it on a hanger ready for steam cleaning. The jacket had come from a man who’d found it in his granddad’s attic, and wanted to wear it for his wedding on New Year’s Eve. It was a marvellous thing—black velvet with satin lapels and a beautiful patterned lining. Edward hadn’t recognised the name on the label so he’d turned to the internet to research it. That had taken a few days, but he’d learned that it had likely come from a tailor in London, who had been very fashionable in the nineteen twenties. The jacket was probably a hundred years old.
Edward had opened his tailoring and alterations shop in the village of Little Wetherill, on the northern edge of Dartmoor, almost six years ago. Despite his relative youth in the community, he’d become a solid figure in it. People travelled from all over the south-west to bring him things—either repairs, which he enjoyed, or custom projects, which he’d built his reputation on.
His mother had been overtly derisive of his decision to open a real-life, bricks and mortar shop, convinced that he’d never be able to turn it into a profitable business. But Edward had been running a bespoke tailoring business out of his living room for years, and he had a small but loyal following of people who bought his custom designs online.
Sure, the shop was small, and cold, and in the first year he’d been forced to spend hundreds of pounds replacing the windows at the front so they were double-glazed. In the winter he only got the sun first thing in the morning because of the side of the high street he was located on. So he’d spent even more money installing good lights, so he could see what he was doing at his workstation at the back of the shop. It was worth it. Every penny.
Edward was startled from his cup of tea by the shop door crashing open, then a man rushed into the shop looking particularly red-faced and out of breath. Edward thought that when he calmed down, he might look attractive. Handsome, even. Probably looking for a gift for his wife, knowing Edward’s luck.
“Can I help?”
“I really hope so.” The man heaved his satchel, which was dripping with rainwater, onto Edward’s counter. “I don’t suppose you have a set of nativity costumes that would fit a group of five and six year old children?”
Edward stared at him. “I’m a tailor. A menswear tailor.”
“I know. It’s just that I’ve been everywhere, literally everywhere, and I don’t know who else to ask.”
Curiosity killed the cat.
“How many costumes do you need?”
He started to count them off on his fingers. “Mary and Joseph. Three wise men, three shepherds, three sheep, a cow and a donkey. The inn keeper and his wife, and the Angel Gabriel. And a star.”
Edward blinked. “Seventeen. Seventeen costumes.”
“Yes.” He nodded rapidly. “Ten boys and seven girls. That’s my class.”
“And when do you need these by?”
“Three o’ clock tomorrow afternoon.” “Can you sew?” Edward asked, feeling like asking had been a monumentally bad idea.
“Honestly? No.”
Edward stared at the handsome intruder. Did he want to make seventeen nativity costumes? Of course he didn’t. That sounded like absolute mayhem. He took a deep breath, then sighed.
“Well, for your sake, I hope you’re a fast learner.”
Edward pulled on his long wool coat and flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. He grabbed an umbrella, too, it was still raining cats and dogs out there.
“My name’s Harry, by the way. Harry Britton.”
Harry. It suited him.
“Edward Saunders.”
With the hammering rain outside creating a lovely background tune for his task, Edward finished the repairs on an old smoking jacket and carefully set it on a hanger ready for steam cleaning. The jacket had come from a man who’d found it in his granddad’s attic, and wanted to wear it for his wedding on New Year’s Eve. It was a marvellous thing—black velvet with satin lapels and a beautiful patterned lining. Edward hadn’t recognised the name on the label so he’d turned to the internet to research it. That had taken a few days, but he’d learned that it had likely come from a tailor in London, who had been very fashionable in the nineteen twenties. The jacket was probably a hundred years old.
Edward had opened his tailoring and alterations shop in the village of Little Wetherill, on the northern edge of Dartmoor, almost six years ago. Despite his relative youth in the community, he’d become a solid figure in it. People travelled from all over the south-west to bring him things—either repairs, which he enjoyed, or custom projects, which he’d built his reputation on.
His mother had been overtly derisive of his decision to open a real-life, bricks and mortar shop, convinced that he’d never be able to turn it into a profitable business. But Edward had been running a bespoke tailoring business out of his living room for years, and he had a small but loyal following of people who bought his custom designs online.
Sure, the shop was small, and cold, and in the first year he’d been forced to spend hundreds of pounds replacing the windows at the front so they were double-glazed. In the winter he only got the sun first thing in the morning because of the side of the high street he was located on. So he’d spent even more money installing good lights, so he could see what he was doing at his workstation at the back of the shop. It was worth it. Every penny.
Edward was startled from his cup of tea by the shop door crashing open, then a man rushed into the shop looking particularly red-faced and out of breath. Edward thought that when he calmed down, he might look attractive. Handsome, even. Probably looking for a gift for his wife, knowing Edward’s luck.
“Can I help?”
“I really hope so.” The man heaved his satchel, which was dripping with rainwater, onto Edward’s counter. “I don’t suppose you have a set of nativity costumes that would fit a group of five and six year old children?”
Edward stared at him. “I’m a tailor. A menswear tailor.”
“I know. It’s just that I’ve been everywhere, literally everywhere, and I don’t know who else to ask.”
Curiosity killed the cat.
“How many costumes do you need?”
He started to count them off on his fingers. “Mary and Joseph. Three wise men, three shepherds, three sheep, a cow and a donkey. The inn keeper and his wife, and the Angel Gabriel. And a star.”
Edward blinked. “Seventeen. Seventeen costumes.”
“Yes.” He nodded rapidly. “Ten boys and seven girls. That’s my class.”
“And when do you need these by?”
“Three o’ clock tomorrow afternoon.” “Can you sew?” Edward asked, feeling like asking had been a monumentally bad idea.
“Honestly? No.”
Edward stared at the handsome intruder. Did he want to make seventeen nativity costumes? Of course he didn’t. That sounded like absolute mayhem. He took a deep breath, then sighed.
“Well, for your sake, I hope you’re a fast learner.”
Edward pulled on his long wool coat and flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. He grabbed an umbrella, too, it was still raining cats and dogs out there.
“My name’s Harry, by the way. Harry Britton.”
Harry. It suited him.
“Edward Saunders.”
We Whisk You a Merry Christmas #2
The walk from the train station to his mum’s house was normally about fifteen minutes, but tonight it took longer due to the amount of snow on the ground. A lot longer. But Brandon really didn’t want his mum driving out to pick him up, not in this weather.
Even if his shoes were wet and his toes were cold and the frosty wind kept getting stuck in his throat.
There was something very reassuring and very familiar about this trudge uphill through the village. Even though it was dark out—it got dark by four in the afternoon at the moment— Brandon was pretty sure he could make the journey with his eyes closed.
His mum still lived in the same house Brandon and his sisters had grown up in; a terraced house behind the High Street that almost backed on to the bakery. When they were kids, Brandon had thought of the alleyway that connected the shops to the houses a secret passage. Along with Saffron and Olive, he’d played many games of Super Secret Spies back here.
Brandon let himself in through the back door because that was just the way things were done. Knocking on the front door was for guests and the postman. And he already knew he’d find his mum in the kitchen, at the back of the house.
“Hi, Mum.”
He shut the door behind himself quickly to keep the cold out, then leaned down and hugged her close, not pulling away until she did.
“I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me too.”
“Sit down,” she said, ushering him into a chair. He still took his shoes off first and left them by the door, and hung his coat up on the hook. His bag could wait until later. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, but if you’ve got something you need me to get rid of…?”
That made her laugh. “You want a cup of tea and a bit of cake?”
“Mum,” he said seriously. “I really, really do.”
Letting himself be fussed over was easy. Brandon knew he didn’t come home as often as he should; partly because his mum came into London fairly regularly with her friends and she always took time to stop by and see him. But that meant coming home was always a treat, and despite being thirty four, Brandon didn’t mind the attention from his mum.
Within ten minutes of walking through the door Brandon had a cup of tea and a piece of yule log chocolate cake in front of him. His mum sat opposite him at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around her own mug.
“How’s things?” she demanded. “How’s work?”
“Good. Busy,” he said. “Always busy. How are things here?”
She stilled, and Brandon was suddenly nervous. “Bran, there’s something important I need to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” he said around a mouthful of cake.
“We sold the bakery.”
Brandon swallowed hard. “You sold it?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
His mum squirmed. “August. I’m sorry. I thought you were coming home in September, then you didn’t because of that big contract at work, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“That’s okay.” He knew the bakery had been up for sale for a while, but he hadn’t thought to ask if anything had happened. That was probably self-preservation rather than self-interest. If he didn’t ask, he didn’t have to know. “Who has it now? Are they going to turn it into flats?”
“No,” his mum said emphatically. “A man bought it—he’s your age, actually. His name is Alex. He just picked it up and kept going.”
“So it’s open? Like it used to be?”
She nodded. “Yeah. People around here are really pleased, too. Alex is a good person, and a good baker. He’s been able to keep the tradition going.”
“I mean…” Brandon knew he needed to reassure her. Selling the bakery had been a huge deal and had caused plenty of arguments. But his mum didn’t want to keep it open on her own and neither Brandon nor his sisters wanted to move back to Newton Green to take it over. “We’ve known for a long time this was going to happen. I’m not upset,” he said, reaching out to give his mum’s hand a squeeze.
Later, when the cake was gone and his plate washed up, Brandon wandered through the house. He couldn’t help but appreciate that his mum had decorated for Christmas, like she did every year, even though there was no one but her to appreciate it.
Then again, that was probably not strictly true. Brandon knew his mum had a busier social life than he did; she was the treasurer for the PTA at the local primary school, having never given up her spot even after all three of her kids had left. She worked with a local children’s charity too, and volunteered at the food bank, and had been a member of the local Women’s Institute for donkey’s years.
That was part of the reason why Brandon didn’t feel quite so bad that neither he nor his sisters lived in Newton Green any more.
Bits and bobs had been rearranged on the mantlepiece above the fire to make room for two wicker reindeer sculptures that Brandon had bought for her a few years back. In the middle of the two reindeer were a hodge-podge of different school and graduation photos, and in Olive’s case, a picture from her wedding.
He picked up the frame and smiled.
Brandon looked more like Olive and their mum than Saffron and their dad. Both Brandon and Olive had thick, dark hair that got frizzy when it was humid out, and brown eyes that had hints of hazel. Saffron, on the other hand, wore her wavy, strawberry-blonde hair almost to her waist.
Olive was practical, a born scientist, and it made perfect sense that she now worked for the Scottish government advising on climate change. Brandon hoped that one day she’d move back down here, but she’d made a life in Edinburgh with her husband. Brandon set the photo back on the mantlepiece and made a mental note to book flights to go see them soon. Maybe by the time he got round to it, the baby would be born.
That was another thing that got his stomach all knotted up—Ollie getting married was one thing, but having a baby so soon after the wedding was another. Brandon had thought that she would want to wait, to dig further into her prospering career. But Thomas loved kids, and it seemed like he was going to be the stay at home parent when Olive’s maternity leave was over. It was all very 2020 of them.
Both his sisters had big, exciting things happening in their lives; Ollie with the baby, and Saff out exploring the world, and Brandon couldn’t help but feel jealous. When he’d moved to London it had been such a big thing in their family—he was the first to go to university, the first in the family to get a degree, and it had felt, at twenty-two, like the world was at his feet. Having a flat in Lambeth meant he could walk to his job in Soho, if he wanted to, and London life suited him.
Now, twelve years later, the city was exhausting. The past year had been a lot, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else waiting for him. A new relationship, a chance to move abroad and live somewhere exciting, maybe. Just… something.
Minter Wonderland #3
Josh ached.
His shoulders ached and his thighs ached and his knees really ached. And his big toe—he’d stubbed it twice today already. Twice. That was how you broke a toe, he was sure of it. Two bad stubs and boom, broken toe.
He wasn’t complaining, he really wasn’t, because the Christmas tree business was in full bloom for only a few precious weeks every year, and he had to make that sweet pine tree money while he could. So a few aching muscles? That was fine. He wouldn’t even complain. Not out loud, anyway.
He finished hauling the last tree up to the front of the display area and set it in one of the stands so its branches could settle. This one was a real beauty, and Josh wanted to make sure he was showing her off in all her perfect glory.
For the past three years, Josh had owned fifteen acres of land on the edge of Yorkshire woodland that had been used as a garden centre since before he was born. About a third of the land was dedicated to sustainable forestry, a third was taken up by greenhouses, and the final third used for growing fruit and vegetables. He didn’t keep anything too regimented; some of his apple orchard spilled into the pine tree area, but that was fine. He grew mistletoe on the apple trees, and having them close together was no chore this time of year.
A bright, two-tone whistle caught his attention, and Josh twisted around to glare at Angie.
“What?” he demanded.
“Nothing. Just wondering what you’re daydreaming about.”
Josh bunched his hands on his hips. “He’s six foot two, blond, and has thighs like a rugby player.”
Angie made a face at him, then snorted with laughter.
“I wasn’t joking,” Josh insisted.
“I know. That’s why it’s funny.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a noogie. Josh had known Angie since they were eleven, both scrawny kids starting secondary school, and their friendship had survived growing up and university and moving away… then moving home again. When Josh had taken over the business he’d immediately known who he wanted for his general manager.
“We’re selling out of trees, Josh,” she said, tucking her explosion of blonde curls back under her hat.
“I know,” Josh said as they walked up toward the main office. “I can’t do much about it. Trees don’t grow overnight.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “I know. What about next year?”
“Next year is next year. We’ll deal with tomorrow first.”
“When did you turn into such a philosopher?”
He laughed. “Maybe I’ve always been one.”
“Alright, Plato. I’ll finish locking up.”
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Anna MartinAnna Martin is from a picturesque seaside village in the southwest of England and now lives in the Bristol, a city that embraces her love for the arts. After spending most of her childhood making up stories, she studied English literature at university before attempting to turn her hand as a professional writer.
Apart from being physically dependent on her laptop, Anna is enthusiastic about writing and producing local grassroots theater (especially at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where she can be found every summer), going to visit friends in other countries, and reading anything thatís put under her nose.
Anna claims her entire career is due to the love, support, prereading, and creative ass kicking provided by her best friend Jennifer. Jennifer refuses to accept responsibility for anything Anna has written.
Let it Sew #1
We Whisk You a Merry Christmas #2
Minter Wonderland #4
Anna Martin's Christmas Short Stories
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