Maddie Please - A Year of New Adventures - The hilarious romantic comedy that is perfect for the summer holidays

Avon an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers

The News Building

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Maddie Please 2017

Cover design © Head Design 2017

Cover image © Shutterstock.com

Maddie Please asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue copy of 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 ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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.

Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008253448

Version: 2017-11-15

For Jane

Best friend, writer, and matchmaker.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page A Year of New Adventures Maddie Please

Copyright Avon an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers The News Building 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain in ebook format by HarperCollins Publishers 2018 Copyright © Maddie Please 2017 Cover design © Head Design 2017 Cover image © Shutterstock.com Maddie Please asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue copy of 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 ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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. Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008253448 Version: 2017-11-15

Dedication For Jane Best friend, writer, and matchmaker.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

It was the third writers’ retreat Helena and I had run and the previous two had gone like clockwork. There was no reason why this one shouldn’t have been just the same.

And then Oliver Forest turned up.

It was a dark, wet day in February and, believe me, his mood made it seem even bleaker.

*

It didn’t take long for things to go wrong.

It was ten-fifteen and people had been asked to turn up after eleven, so Helena and I were sitting with our feet up in the gorgeous kitchen of our rental house eating cookies out of the first batch I’d made; some of them had broken when I’d burned myself and dropped the baking tray.

Although she is my best friend, Helena is nothing like me. For example, she believes any meal taking longer than seven minutes in a nine-hundred-watt microwave is a waste of time. I love cooking and have been known to sleepwalk into the kitchen to make an omelette.

She has an immaculate and much-loved pale-blue Morris Minor called William, whereas I have a beaten-up old Land Rover, which isn’t called anything except rude names when it refuses to start. Actually, I’m petrified it needs a new cam belt, something that was mentioned in hushed tones last September when it had an MOT. I hope it wasn’t listening. I didn’t dare ask what a cam belt was, but it sounds expensive doesn’t it?

Even though it might be on its last legs, my car had more space than hers for all our provisions. I had removed the Tesco bag full of muddy shoes, a box of books to take to the local telephone kiosk library, and the cracked first-aid kit that now contained only a triangular bandage and a box of corn plasters. Still, if we’d met anyone with a broken arm and bunions on our drive down to the lovely house we’d rented for the retreat, we’d have been ready.

‘So I hope you’re going to tell me you’ve got your money back from Matt?’ Helena asked with an innocent air as I reached for another cookie.

‘Well no, but he promised he would sort it out,’ I said.

This was an ongoing conversation that had started before Christmas when Matt – my now very ex-boyfriend – had gone on our romantic holiday without me.

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Billie!’ Helena said. ‘When are you going to toughen up with him? He owes you money! He nicked your towels! Why are you letting him get away with it?’

God knows.

But then why did I let him move into my cottage on the understanding he would replace the skirting boards in the kitchen when he obviously had no intention of doing so?

Why after two years did I keep hoping he might stop being so inconsiderate in bed – not to mention untidy, lazy, and thoughtless?

Why had I allowed myself to believe that a crap boyfriend was better than no boyfriend?

‘I’m going to go and see him when I get home, I really am,’ I said, trying to sound resolute.

Helena huffed a little. ‘You won’t because you know he’ll just get round you again. He never was good enough for you. I did tell you …’

Suddenly there was a mighty banging on the front door, followed by some irritated bell pushing. Helena inhaled a chocolate chip and began coughing and spluttering, tears streaming down her face. I thumped her on the back and went to fetch her a glass of water. Meanwhile, the racket at the front door continued.

I decided to give the bell pusher a piece of my mind. We had made it quite clear that door wasn’t used because it opened directly onto the street. It was locked, the key was hidden somewhere, and it was secured with four pretty sturdy bolts. We were in the middle of a gentle little village in Herefordshire and I don’t think it was a hot spot for crime so all this security was perhaps a bit excessive.

‘For God’s sake! I’m trying! Stop pushing the frigging bell!’ I shouted as I located the key on top of the doorframe and wrestled with the bolts. After a few minutes – hot, sweating, and red-faced – I managed to open the door.