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The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea
Jennifer Joyce
‘A charming and delightful read!’ Pretty Little Book ReviewsOne summer can change everything…Mae has no time for men in her life! Local vet Alfie might be totally gorgeous but she’s far too busy looking after her young daughter and running her little bed & breakfast by the sea.Willow is in the middle of building her dream home with her husband, Ethan, when disaster strikes. And with every month that passes she secretly worries that her happy ever after will never come true…Melody only intended to stay in the bustling seaside town for a few days. But when she meets Hugo – the charming man in the ice cream van – she decides to stay a little longer.It seems the little bed & breakfast is full of surprises!A cosy and charming romance set in an English seaside town, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley and Caroline Roberts.Praise for The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea:‘A really cute, uplifting read and absolutely perfect for summer!’ The Genre Reader‘ easy, warm summer read. Perfect for by the pool!’ Little Novelist‘An easy summer read which will have you smiling and laughing!’ The Reading Shed‘A charming and delightful read!’ Pretty Little Book Reviews‘A sweet summer tale. Entertaining from beginning to end.’ Urban Book Reviews‘A lovely story, heartwarming and a perfect holiday read.’ Books4BookWorms
Escape to the seaside this summer!
Mae loves running her little Bed & Breakfast, it’s the perfect place to raise her adorable four-year-old daughter! And no matter how persistently local vet, Alfie, chases her, she just doesn’t have time for men in her life.
Willow is busy building her dream home with her husband, Ethan, but with every month that passes she secretly worries that her happy ever after will never come true…
Melody only intended to stay in the bustling seaside town for a few days to capture the perfect photo. But when she meets Hugo – the charming man in the ice cream van – she decides to stay a little longer!
One thing is for sure, summer at the little Bed & Breakfast by the sea certainly has a few surprises in store…
Also by Jennifer Joyce (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
The Mince Pie Mix-Up
The Wedding Date
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts
The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea
Jennifer Joyce
Contents
Cover (#ub4e583fe-4bf3-5d91-b0c5-f9815c8618e1)
Blurb (#ueb855979-5dd8-5dbd-9515-7624cf43c449)
Book List (#u7c82c7b7-093d-5b18-b4ef-c2927a60aac7)
Title Page (#u19f9da91-8491-56c3-a4ab-285d09059138)
Author Bio (#u4993af60-7dcc-5f60-b2ca-d25a45da2218)
Acknowledgements (#ue11f52fc-347d-5bb4-b148-9bf558809cc3)
Dedication (#u03592077-a461-5071-9484-a0cd07dc2507)
Chapter One (#ucb2bbce8-4ff0-55e9-85d0-f1d54847cf9a)
Chapter Two (#u1dc35525-b80a-5b7b-9696-917179d02e22)
Chapter Three (#u1d2dfd80-1833-52c7-941c-27923498f135)
Chapter Four (#u47087b50-b582-5889-bff4-cb3163b079e3)
Chapter Five (#u7df2bc91-ef42-5a22-b746-d8ca04537870)
Chapter Six (#uef2d9864-4a62-50d5-b27a-f6260317488f)
Chapter Seven (#u81bfce77-1b78-5f24-aa27-9baf7f1678c2)
Chapter Eight (#u5196de87-3da2-545d-8af8-a82f726bfbe5)
Chapter Nine (#u99eaa31a-83cc-51ec-acb4-daa5eb33da04)
Chapter Ten (#u4ae481fd-9402-5064-9a35-2c5158a75ae9)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
JENNIFER JOYCE
is a writer of romantic comedies. She’s been scribbling down bits of stories for as long as she can remember, graduating from a pen to a typewriter and then an electronic typewriter. And she felt like the bee’s knees typing on that. She now writes her books on a laptop (which has a proper delete button and everything). Jennifer lives in Oldham, Greater Manchester, with her husband Chris and their two daughters, Rianne and Isobel, plus their bunnies Cinnamon and Leah, and Jack Russell Luna. When she isn’t writing, Jennifer likes to make things – she’ll use any excuse to get her craft box out! She spends far too much time on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram.
You can find out more about Jennifer on her blog at jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk (http://www.jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk/), on Twitter at @writer_jenn (https://twitter.com/writer_jenn) and on Facebook at facebook.com/jenniferjoycewrites (https://www.facebook.com/JenniferJoyceWrites/)
Thank you to the amazing book-blogging community, especially Kaisha (The Writing Garnett), Laura (Laura Patricia Rose), Shaz (Shaz’s Book Blog, plus guest reviewer Emma), Rachel (Rachel’s Random Reads), Laura (Laura Bambrey Books), Simona (Simona’s Corner of Dreams), Sophie (Book Drunk), Kelly and Lucy (The Blossom Twins), Becca (Hummingbird Reviews), Laura (Lozza’s Book Corner) and Alba (Alba In Bookland). Definitely go and check out their wonderful blogs!
Thank you to the SCWG for the advice, book talk, encouragement. This writing lark wouldn’t be half as much fun without you! Also thanks to Beth Cahill and Ann Coggan for talking books with me.
Thank you to the HQ Digital team, especially my editor Charlotte Mursell.
A special thanks to Andrew Cahill for the songs. When I was putting together a playlist of summery songs to write the book to, I asked for suggestions on Twitter and Facebook. Andrew provided me with a million songs to add – this is only a slight exaggeration. Special thanks must also go to Louise Wykes – the Minion is for you!
Finally, thank you to my family, who continue to support me and my books, with extra special thanks to my husband, Chris, and our daughters, Rianne and Isobel.
For Chris, Rianne and Isobel
Chapter One (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
Mae was in a mad rush that morning as she flitted from room to room, eyes flicking to whichever clock happened to be nearest every thirty seconds. Right now, it was the digital display on the microwave that made her eyes widen in panic as she trundled into the kitchen, dumping the armful of goodies she’d collected onto the breakfast bar. Where had the morning gone? She could have sworn it was only five minutes since she’d dragged her weary body from beneath her sheets, forcing it in the direction of the coffee machine. And now it was almost time to go and she wasn’t even ready. The caffeine hadn’t had chance to work its way into her system, even after her second giant mug, gulped down between bites of toast.
Taking a calming breath, Mae added the goodies to the baskets she’d set out on the breakfast bar with a practised hand, arranging the mini bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body lotion to the bed of scrunched-up tissue paper among the bottled water, individually wrapped teabags and sachets of coffee. The bar of chocolate, cellophane-wrapped biscuits and stick of rock added a sweet touch. Mae prided herself on attention to detail; it was the little things that stuck with guests long after they’d packed their suitcases and returned home, the unexpected touches they gushed over with their friends and family or added to their TripAdvisor review. Although the welcome baskets she left in the rooms of her bed and breakfast took time, effort and extra cost, Mae knew they could tempt a guest to leave a sparkling, five-star review instead of a four-star, and entice them back next year – and the year after that. Mae had dreamed of running her own bed and breakfast since she was a little girl. Now her wish had come true, she would put her all into the venture and make it the best bed and breakfast she possibly could.
‘Hannah!’ she called as she popped the final item – a note for her guests written on a postcard with a photo of the seaside town on the front – into the basket. ‘Have you got your shoes on yet?’
She grabbed the baskets – one each for the two rooms she had available in the house she’d inherited from her grandmother four years ago – and headed towards the stairs, stopping outside the family room where she spotted her four-year-old daughter still glued to the television. Shoeless.
‘Excuse me, little lady, but aren’t you supposed to be putting your shoes on?’ Mae arched an eyebrow at her daughter. ‘We need to set off for Nanny’s in two minutes.’
‘It only takes me one minute to put my shoes on,’ Hannah said, eyes travelling back to the screen.
Mae’s eyebrow arched further. ‘And how long does it take you to walk up the stairs to grab them?’
Hannah scrunched up her nose, eyes still on the television, as she calculated. ‘Ten seconds?’
‘And do you know where your shoes are?’
Technically, Hannah’s shoes should be lined up at the bottom of the wardrobe with her other shoes, but Mae knew her daughter too well. Mae might be a stickler for the little details, but her daughter was not. In Hannah’s world, there was a place for everything, but nothing was in its place.
‘One of them is under my bed,’ Hannah said. ‘I kicked it under there this morning when I tripped over it.’
Mae closed her eyes, briefly. ‘And the other?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘In my room?’
Mae hoped the shoe was in Hannah’s bedroom. They had guests arriving later and Mae lived in fear of the day one of them would trip over an abandoned shoe or toy. She did her best to keep the house in pristine condition, but it wasn’t always easy with a four-year-old tearing about the place.
‘So, actually finding the other shoe could take you more than the fifty seconds you have left. Plus, we’ve been discussing this for…’ Mae scrunched up her own nose as she calculated the wasted time. ‘Twenty seconds? So, really, you only have thirty seconds to find your shoe. Probably twenty-five by now. So do you think you should turn the telly off and go and put them on?’
Hannah sighed, her little chest heaving dramatically. ‘Fine.’
Mae watched as her daughter wriggled off the sofa and turned the television off before shuffling out of the family room and up the stairs. Hannah was four and already behaving like a teenager – how would Mae cope when hormones set up camp? But Mae didn’t have time to ponder. She had welcome baskets to set out and less than two minutes to do so. She followed Hannah up the stairs, pushing open the guest room they had on that floor, and placed the basket on the end of the bed, smoothing the bedspread with the palm of her hand. The left curtain wasn’t quite even so she moved across the room to open it a little more, smiling at the view as she did so. With the bed and breakfast on the seafront, Mae had the perfect view of the beach, with the pier in the distance, the Ferris wheel already turning slowly. The school summer holidays had started the previous week, so Clifton-on-Sea was jam-packed with holidaymakers hopeful of a warm and dry British summer. Growing up in Clifton-on-Sea, Mae hadn’t always appreciated the beauty of her little town. Building sandcastles with her grandpa, the delicious scent of sweet candyfloss and hot doughnuts mingling with the sea air, eating fish and chips from the paper with her feet dangling over the harbour walls – these were ordinary occurrences for Mae as a little girl, and it wasn’t until she left the town in her late teens, eager to see a bit more of the country, of the world, that she realised what a special place she’d left behind. Or how privileged she’d been to have such an idyllic childhood by the sea. She couldn’t imagine a better place to raise her daughter.
‘Mummy!’
Hannah’s voice broke Mae’s reverie and she backed away from the window, smoothing the bedspread one last time as she passed.
‘I can’t find my shoes,’ Hannah said, poking her head out of her bedroom.
‘What about the one under the bed?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘It’s not there any more.’
Mae pressed her lips together. She didn’t have time to hunt for misplaced shoes. She still had to take the second basket of goodies up to the little room in the attic and drop the keys with Mrs Hornchurch next door (where she would no doubt get caught up in a ten-minute chat while she did her best to politely escape) before ferrying Hannah across town. They were already cutting it fine.
‘You’ll have to wear a different pair.’ Mae was already shuffling backwards towards the narrow staircase that led to the fourth bedroom. ‘Your sandals. Or your trainers if you really must.’ Trainers wouldn’t really go with the red gingham summer dress Hannah was wearing, but desperate times called for mismatched outfits.
