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The New Beginnings Coffee Club: The feel-good, heartwarming read from bestselling author Samantha Tonge
Samantha Tonge
‘Pick up a latte and relax into this cosy read that’s chock-full of surprises!’ - Mandy BaggotEveryone deserves a second chance…don’t they?Jenny Masters finds herself living the modern dream. Wife to a millionaire, living in a mansion and mother to Kardashian-obsessed ten-year-old April, there isn’t anything missing. Until, her whole world comes crashing down, forcing Jenny and April to leave behind their glittering life and start over with nothing.With village gossip following her wherever she goes, she finds refuge and a job in the new coffee shop in town. As the days pass Jenny fears she doesn’t have what it takes to pick herself back up and give April the life she always wanted to. But with the help of enigmatic new boss Noah, and housemate Elle, Jenny realises it’s never too late to become the woman life really intended you to be!What reviewers are saying about The New Beginnings Coffee Club:‘One of the freshest, captivating, and inspiring contemporary fiction novels that I have read in a very long time’ Books of all Kinds‘A fantastic, charming story.’ With Love For Books‘What a great story for your holiday reading, wonderful characters and written superbly by a great author.’ Karen’s World‘It’s a wonderful, beautiful read.’ Whispering Stories Book Blog‘What I truly loved about this novel was the sentiment of if you want to change something you can.’ Hayley Reviews
Everyone deserves a second chance…don’t they?
Jenny Masters finds herself living the modern dream. Wife to a millionaire, living in a mansion and mother to Kardashian-obsessed ten-year-old April, there isn’t anything missing. Until, her whole world comes crashing down, forcing Jenny and April to leave behind their glittering life and start over with nothing.
With village gossip following her wherever she goes, she finds refuge and a job in the new coffee shop in town. As the days pass Jenny fears she doesn’t have what it takes to pick herself back up and give April the life she always wanted to. But with the help of enigmatic new boss Noah, and housemate Elle, Jenny realises it’s never too late to become the woman life really intended you to be!
Also by Samantha Tonge: (#ulink_661ad544-280e-5e02-b293-4427ccd45880)
Doubting Abbey
From Paris with Love
Mistletoe Mansion
Game of Scones
My Big Fat Christmas Wedding
How to Get Hitched in Ten Days
Breakfast Under a Cornish Sun
The New Beginnings Coffee Club
Samantha Tonge
Copyright (#ulink_abfcf33d-701d-510e-84d8-db20ba64e287)
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © Samantha Tonge 2017
Samantha Tonge asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition May 2017 ISBN: 978-0-00-823916-9
Version: 2018-06-13
Contents
Cover (#u3cb9684d-1e73-5686-913f-ac9e36ee591d)
Blurb (#u819750cb-44d1-56f5-853f-eed410aea86e)
Book List (#ulink_0693b8f2-037b-521e-af78-562044c9096e)
Title Page (#u77a5bc80-28e1-585a-a314-c0fa293a15d6)
Copyright (#ulink_0824244c-9025-5324-8f59-6aac6025ac2c)
Author Bio (#ucac4ac94-e678-5f07-95a8-b9f27b08fa2c)
Dedication (#uaee1927e-da9f-5f8c-967c-a9cb378770dd)
Prologue (#ulink_5713e38e-fa62-5c45-bacc-05e960ed7e6e)
Chapter One (#ulink_9681f1e4-39cd-5ef0-a0de-ebd02ff63b1b)
Chapter Two (#ulink_ac3558df-5882-5dbf-b7ec-e86d34cc13d4)
Chapter Three (#ulink_23d65af1-4426-5186-baae-0a4d2c7c6896)
Chapter Four (#ulink_27a40c14-043e-57a3-aa3c-d80a7e05354a)
Chapter Five (#ulink_07d13904-4293-5ca2-b8f2-47f2c49cd650)
Chapter Six (#ulink_50f0c896-e966-570c-bd3e-ba3ac34261fb)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publishers (#litres_trial_promo)
SAMANTHA TONGE
lives in Cheshire with her lovely family and a cat who thinks it’s a dog. Along with writing, her days are spent willing cakes to rise and avoiding housework. A love of fiction developed as a child, when she was known for reading Enid Blyton books in the bath. A desire to write bubbled away in the background whilst she pursued other careers, including a fun stint working at Disneyland Paris. Formally trained as a linguist, Samantha now likes nothing more than holing herself up in the spare room, in front of the keyboard. Writing romantic comedy novels is her passion.
http://samanthatonge.co.uk/ (http://samanthatonge.co.uk/)
https://twitter.com/SamTongeWriter (https://twitter.com/SamTongeWriter)
https://www.facebook.com/SamanthaTongeAuthor (https://www.facebook.com/SamanthaTongeAuthor)
New beginnings indeed – with heartfelt thanks to Angela, Karen, Mark, Mary and Michelle.
Prologue (#ulink_ab4cac9c-dfc1-5990-8b2c-9aa8c374c7b6)
I looked at Mum and we grinned. Every time I made fairy cakes, flour somehow ended up on my face. The giveaway? Like the Easter bunny’s, my nose twitched from side to side.
‘Just look at the state of you, Jenny Jarvis,’ she teased and rolled her eyes. All crinkly around the edges, they looked tired. It was Easter Sunday and Mum had looked after my grandparents all weekend. They were still in bed. We’d got up early to make chocolate mini-egg cakes. They were my favourite and Mum had baked them for my last birthday, when I turned ten. I’m not a stickler for tradition, she would say, and we sometimes had turkey roast with all the trimmings, months away from Christmas. Dad said that was one of the reasons he loved her to bits. She’d always make a big batch of his favourite festive figgy puddings, so that he could also eat them in summer, autumn, and spring.
My chest glowed as I watched her hum a cheerful song, whilst doing the washing up. Strong. Comforting. Cuddly. Mum was like the best teddy bear in the world. I breathed in the yummy cocoa smells that wafted from the oven.
‘Keep beating, sweetheart – the butter and sugar won’t cream themselves.’
As Mum hummed increasingly loudly, I bit my bottom lip and my arm moved faster. Finally the ingredients came together and the icing looked all shiny and smooth.
She passed over a mini-egg and winked. ‘We ought to try one each – just to check they’re okay.’
I giggled. Mum could obviously read my mind as well. I popped it into my mouth. My teeth cracked the outer shell and as the gooey insides melted across my tongue, I glanced at the clock. Nine o’clock.
‘Will we have time to fill the bird feeders, before Granny and Granddad come down? Those goldfinches need to keep up their strength to care for the chicks. They looked so cute, last week, hopping across the lawn after Dad mowed it.’ I gazed out of the window, to see a blue sky and sunrays lighting up the oak’s new leaves. Attached to the trunk was a bird box Mum had assembled from a kit.
She was clever like that. Did amazing things with craft stuff and food. Worked part-time as a receptionist, at the local vet’s. The kitchen always smelt tasty and the garden overflowed with life.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll make sure they also get Easter treats.’ Mum brushed straggly curls out of her eyes. She didn’t wear much make-up but, I reckoned, was the prettiest person in the world. Of course, we had our fallouts. She didn’t look quite so pretty when she was cross with me for not doing my homework. And she could be annoying, like insisting I tidy my room, even though I knew exactly where I’d put everything. But Mum believed in keeping things simple. Appreciating nature. Making instead of buying. That made life fun.
I smiled to myself, at how she often brushed off compliments – or went bright red. Like when Daddy once told her that she had a heart bigger than a whale’s … Mind you, that hadn’t sounded especially romantic. Playfully she’d punched his arm and we’d all laughed.
‘Right, let’s check those cakes, Jenny. We don’t want them burnt or too flat. I’ll take them out of the oven. You can press the sponge, with your fingers, and decide if they are ready yet.’
I did as I was told. ‘They feel all springy – like my bed mattress.’
‘Perfect. Just like you.’ She took off the oven gloves and gave me a hug.
Feeling safer than a baby kangaroo in its mummy’s pouch, I closed my eyes and held her ever so tight. No, you’re the perfect one, I thought, and if I ever have a daughter, I’m going to be exactly the same sort of mum as you …
Chapter One (#ulink_4868b262-d967-596d-bf80-2aef6cf3282b)
Celebrity glossy hair. Cerise-pink painted nails. A beige dress with matching nude sandals. I tore my gaze away from April and felt a lump in my throat – she looked so grown-up. It was hard to believe my daughter was only ten.
My friend Chanelle, who owned this nail salon, had just thrown a party for her little girl, Skye. I say little girl, but as I gazed at the posse of mothers and daughters, preening in front of large mirrors, apart from their height they all looked the same. I’m talking designer handbags, straightened hair, and the most on-trend clothes, as if it was just a different uniform to wear, outside of the girls’ posh private school. But it made me feel comfortable, contented, to belong to some sort of clan.
A border full of plants in bud promising a colourful summer caught my attention. It reminded me of my own childhood building treehouses and getting close to nature in the field behind our two-up, two-down. Once I’d caught a frog to see if it really would turn into a prince. My gentle kiss on its head left me disappointed, and with a slimy lip-gloss effect that made Mum laugh hard.
How I’d loved baking with her and making feeders for birds. It had taken me a while to get used to the highflying life of my husband. I rarely cooked now. Nor spent much time in the garden. A heavy sensation briefly tickled my chest. I’m not sure why, because times changed, right, and no one wanted to be left behind?
‘April has been so excited about today,’ I said to Chanelle, who bobbed forwards and air-kissed my cheeks. My face broke into a smile as I scanned her tight dress, which hugged every unnatural inch. The boobs had been a thirtieth birthday present and the bum implants marked an anniversary. The generous curves suited my generous friend.
I glanced again at April and reflected, as I often did, that life was good. More than good, in fact, with my heartbreakingly handsome husband and luxurious family home. It was the perfect scenario to safely raise a child, thank goodness, because no one warns you that from the moment you give birth, the world suddenly looks like a dangerous place.
I squeezed Chanelle’s shoulder and tickled behind the ears of Prada, the pug in her arms. The horizontally striped dress also hugged every good-hearted bone in her body. Since April had joined Skye’s playground clique a year ago, after her best mate moved to Dubai, clothes horse Chanelle had vigorously welcomed us both into her life. How thrilled she’d been to know me, the wife of Zachary Masters, the head of her favourite fashion house Elite Eleganz.
Chanelle gave me a wide grin with her Julia Roberts mouth – although today there were no twinkly eyes to match.
I gazed around. ‘So … how’s business going? Still on the up since you found that investor?’
Her cheeks pinked up. ‘Not bad at all. Thank God. It was risky of me to plough all of my divorce money into expanding the place but I can’t complain now. Finally we’re enjoying a decent turnover.’ She cleared her throat and gave another super bright smile. Something didn’t seem right. ‘It’s been sheer torture not being able to enjoy my yearly cruise.’ She said it like it was a joke, but with Chanelle you could never be sure.
