Never Kiss a Man in a Christmas Jumper

He'd probably faint at the sight of their hoards of undies, make-up, and never-put-away tampon boxes.

It was only a searing pain running from her coccyx that was giving her any trouble. She'd landed on her arse - which, thankfully, had enough padding on it to have saved her from anything more serious. Three cheers for fat-bottomed girls.

You'd have looked perfect to me if you'd walked into the room wearing a clown outfit, with a big red nose and huge shoes,' said Rob, giving her a smile that would have made every woman in a three-mile radius melt a little inside. 'Even if you'd sprayed my face with water from a fake flower.

The hallway felt cold and frigid, and smelled of old pizza. She walked into the empty living room, and was confronted with Marco's bed. The sheets were still rumpled, and she knew they'd smell of him. For one confused moment, she wanted to do nothing more than climb in, and wrap herself up in the fragrance of the man she loved.

She smiled back at him, but neither of them spoke. It was like this sometimes. They'd either be bantering, or silent — as though they didn't always need to talk. Just being together was enough.

She'd finally fallen in love, after so many years of wondering what the fuss was all about, and frankly it felt awful. Life would have been much simpler without it; without seeing the rainbow and going back to living life in shades of grey. Without realising what she was missing out on. Without understanding, for the first time ever, that being content wasn't the same as being happy.

It was, she said to herself, the single most exciting few minutes of my entire life. The first time I've ever felt like that. The only time I've ever wanted a man more than I've wanted my solitude. The most sensual and stimulating physical contact I've ever experienced — and all of that despite the fact that we were in public. And you were drunk.