Summary:
Anna Martin's Christmas Shorts
With a fully booked season of high-scale Christmas parties at his pub, The Punch Bowl, Grant Thornton is furious when his corporate alcohol supplier goes out of business three weeks before Christmas. The pub is well-known for its excellent food and quality wine — a reputation that Grant isn’t willing to risk.
Nathan Turner is the manager at Southwark Cellars, just off the South Bank of the Thames, and is baffled by Grant’s intense demeanour and very particular demands. Of course, as a wine expert, Nathan is perfectly placed to help Grant and The Punch Bowl get through the festive season.
Grant has always had big dreams, and Nathan’s wine expertise might be the key to unlocking them. He just needs to decide which to prioritise: his business, or his rapidly growing crush.
Original Review December 2025:
This is probably not the review I intended to write because time just isn't on my side. I loved Anna Martin's entry this year in her annual Christmas Short Stories collection. I can't imagine how devastating it was for Grant to lose his upmarket alcohol supplier at his peak holiday season, luckily for him there is a local who just might be able to offer what he's missing and perhaps a little more. I think if you've read any of Martin's Xmas shorts you'll know this will end in HEA but watching Grant and Nathan get there is fun and entertaining.
Some might find it rushed but it is a holiday short after all so you should expect it going in that there journey is not going to be a slow burn. I know some don't believe in insta-love or near insta-love but I'm living proof it's real and lasting. My grandparents meant in early January 1946, were engaged on Valentine's Day, married the end of July and were still happily married when my grandfather passed away in 1994. So it is real and Anna Martin does a brilliantly fun job with Nathan and Grant finding theirs. We might not see the longgame in Fizz the Season but we see the beginnings and it'll put a smile on your face and brighten your day. What more could one ask for? Short, sweet, and a holiday gem worthy of the author's holiday series.
RATING:
It was a little after two in the afternoon when the bell above the shop door tinkled to announce a new customer. Nathan glanced over at the door, then did a full double-take. The man currently storming up to his counter looked furious.
With me? Nathan thought to himself. He brushed his hands down the front of the canvas apron he wore over a white shirt and jeans.
“Hi,” the angry man bit out.
“Hello,” Nathan replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Welcome to Southwark Cellars. How can I help?”
The angry man was wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans, and no jacket, despite the fact that it was December in London and it was absolutely freezing outside. His choice of clothes did show off his heavily tattooed arms, though, and the all-black look made his very blue eyes pop.
“Do you supply wholesale?”
Nathan considered that for a second. “Yes. Mostly. It depends on what you want.”
“My supplier just went out of business, it’s three weeks until Christmas, I am fully booked five nights a week with Christmas parties, and I have no fucking wine.”
“Ah,” Nathan said. If he were in the angry man’s position, he’d be angry too. “Four Seasons?”
If anything, mentioning Four Seasons seemed to make him even angrier.
“How do you know about Four Seasons?”
Nathan lifted a shoulder in an easy shrug. “I work in the wine business. When a major supplier goes into administration, we tend to hear about these things.”
They’d been gossiping about nothing else in the shop for the past two days, wondering if the news would affect them at all. Nathan hadn’t quite been expecting the impact to land on his doorstep quite so quickly.
“Yeah, well, I had an order of over three hundred bottles that was due to be delivered yesterday, and I only found out this morning that not only are they not being delivered today, they’re not being delivered at all.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, leaving it fashionably messy.
Nathan offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’m really sorry. I’m Nathan. Nathan Turner.”
“Grant Morris. Nice to meet you.”
Anna 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.
