Jennifer Joyce - The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

Escape to the seaside this summer!

Maeloves 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.

Willowis 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…

Melodyonly 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

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

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

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

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Epilogue

Excerpt

Endpages

Copyright

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, on Twitter at @writer_jennand on Facebook at 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

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?’