The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club
Read The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club Online
Authors: Lynsey James
Emily Reed is having a bad day.
Her mother has just dropped a devastating bombshell â the dad she's known and loved for twenty-five years isn't her biological father!
Desperately in need of answers, Emily heads to Luna Bay, covering her personal quest up as a work trip to Sunflower Cottage B&B.
Setting up the âSunflower Cottage Breakfast Club' should be a great way to meet the locals and maybe even find out who her father is. The only problem is brooding and insanely gorgeous Noah, who is determined to make Emily's stay perfectly
un
comfortable.
Discovering the truth after all these years was never going to be simple, but Emily will stop at nothing to uncover her past⦠even if her heart is getting in the way!
âIf you can't wait for a little more warmth this summer, get reading
Just the Way You Are
, and you'll have all the sunshine you need.' â Lisa Dickenson, author of
The Twelve Dates of Christmas
,
You Had Me at Merlot
and
Catch Me If You Cannes
â
The Broken Hearts Book Club
is perfect for these colder, darker nights â it's like a big warm comfort blanket in book form!' â Rather Too Fond of Books
âI adored this book. From the gorgeous setting of Luna Bay to the highly likable protagonist,
The Broken Hearts Book Club
was a total treat.' â Blabbering About Books
â...I loved that Lynsey made me so invested in the characters â not just Ava, all of them. They all have their quirks and their flaws; they made me laugh, they made me cry and they made me want to scream at my Kindle. That marks the sign of fantastically real characters.' â Jenny in Neverland on
Just the Way You Are
âDreamy and delightful!' â Chicks That Read on
Just the Way You Are
âIf you're a fan of romance or a chick-lit addict... then I urge you to give this book a go. It's warm, clever, sweet and an absolute delight.' â Bookaholic Holly on
Just the Way You Are
Just the Way You Are
The Luna Bay series:
The Broken Hearts Book Club
The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club
The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime
The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club
Lynsey James
LYNSEY JAMES
I was born in Fife in 1991 and have been telling people how to spell my name ever since. I'm an incurable bookworm who loves nothing more than getting lost in a good story with memorable characters. I started writing when I was really young and credit my lovely grandad â and possibly a bump on the head from a Mr Frosty machine â with my love of telling stories. I used to write my own episodes of
Friends
and act them out in front of my family (in fact I'm sure I put Ross and Rachel together first!).
A careers adviser at school once told me writing wasn't a âgood option' and, for a few years, I believed her. I tried a little bit of everything, including make-up artistry, teaching and doing admin for a chocolate fountain company. The free chocolate was brilliant. When I left my job a couple of years ago, I started writing full-time while I looked for another one. As soon as I started working on my story, I fell in love and decided to finally pursue my dream. I haven't looked back since.
When I'm not writing, eating cake or drinking tea, I'm daydreaming about the day Dylan O'Brien finally realises we're meant to be together. It'll happen one dayâ¦
This book and the ones before it wouldn't have been possible without the amazing community of writers and bloggers I'm privileged to be a part of. To list all of them would take about a year and fifteen books' worth of space, so here are a few: Daniel Riding, Beth O'Brien, Erin McEwan, Holly Martin, Laura Lovelock, Silke Auwers, Louise Wykes and Laura Holdsworth. Thanks to everyone for all your support, it means the world to me.
Ann Troup, thank you for teaching me about dodgy toasters and exploding food.
Can't do a set of acknowledgements without mentioning my wonderful family. Mum, Dad, Kyle and Gran: I love you guys more than I'll ever be able to tell you. I hope I've made you guys proud.
Dixie, I love you so much I've made you a character in this book. Even though you frequently made me stop writing to play with you or cuddle you!
Jen, you are the best friend I could ask for. I love you and your princess hair.
Thank you to my amazing editor, Victoria. You really are fantastic. Without you, I wouldn't be writing these acknowledgements now.
To all the team at Carina, THANK YOU. You're absolutely amazing and have made my dreams come true. Thank you so, so much.
To Granddad, the world's best storyteller.
None of this would be possible without you.
Contents
It's coming together. I can feel it.
There was something in his voice, a little nuance that told me I was moments away from success. Excitement began to build within me and I felt a million tiny butterflies release themselves into my tummy. This is it, I thought. This is the big moment. The one I've been waiting for.
âI promise you, Mr Woodward; you won't regret becoming part of Walter Marshall Hotels. We're a trusted, reputable brand and, under our name, you can expect to see a significant increase in both visitor numbers and yearly profits. You've seen the numbers for yourself; you know it makes sense.'
As Mr Woodward repeated his numerous concerns about becoming part of a âfaceless corporate machine', I shifted my chair from side to side and drank the remains of my green smoothie. My face burst into a smile as the combination of kale, spinach, water and avocado hit my taste buds. There was no better way to start the day, in my opinion. I'd never been able to stomach a full breakfast; I preferred something quick to kick-start my busy mornings.
After listening to my prospective client's worries and gripes, I knew exactly what to say to ease his mind. I'd dealt with a million owners like him; it was almost second nature to me.
âDon't think of it as becoming part of a faceless corporate machine,' I said in soothing tones. âThink of it as joining a big, happy family who are ready to welcome you with open arms. You're worried about your guesthouse losing its charm and I understand that, but I can assure you that won't happen. While we do like to make some improvements to our establishments, we'll do everything in partnership with you. Mulberry House will still have its charm and character because that's the way
you
have made it. All you'll be getting from us is the chance to be part of our established, reputable brand. If you join us, you'll be able to really put Mulberry House on the map. What do you say, Mr Woodward? Are you ready to take the chance?'
There was a little pause and, for a moment, I worried I'd overdone it. By the end, I
did
sound like an eighties aerobics instructor. I swallowed hard and chewed my thumbnail.
Please, please let this happenâ¦
âOK, Emily, you've got yourself a deal! Send me over the contracts and I'll sign them.'
âExcellent!' I had to stop myself from dropping the phone and doing a happy dance. âWelcome to Walter Marshall Hotels, Mr Woodward.'
We said our goodbyes and I hung up. A feeling of elation hit me like a thunderbolt and I threw my hands up in the air in celebration. I hadn't just closed another deal, you see; I'd closed
the
deal. This was the one that would change everything, or so I hoped.
âSomeone looks happy!' My best friend, Frankie, perched herself on my desk. âWhat's the occasion?'
âJust clinched the Mulberry House deal!' I reached up and high-fived her. âThree months it's taken me to persuade the owner to join and he's just agreed! I'm sending him over the contracts now.'
âNice one!' Frankie grinned and reached into her bag. âThis calls for a celebration. How about we go to breakfast at that little café down the road? I could do with a fry-up!'
I shook my head and got out of my seat. My best friend was one of those impossibly skinny people who ate what she liked and never exercised. I'd found myself picking away at a Caesar salad while she wolfed down a cheeseburger and chips, wondering how the hell she managed it, on many occasions.
âNah, no thanks; I don't really like breakfast. We can go for lunch later if you like?'
She shook her head and plonked herself down in my now vacant chair. âHow can you not like breakfast? It's the best meal of the day!'
âBreakfast is just a load of stodgy food that slows you down of a morning. Give me a green smoothie any day.'
The thought of a plate piled high with greasy fried food popped into my mind and I wanted to gag. It was the food equivalent of my worst nightmare. I'd rather do the eating trial from
I'm a Celebrity⦠Get Me Out of Here
than force down a fry-up.
âYou absolute freak. Remind me again why we're best friends?' Frankie stuck her tongue out at me.
âBecause I have
way
too many incriminating photos of you after one cocktail too many,' I shot back. âAnyway, I've barely got time to think this week, let alone have breakfast. I've got clients to wine and dine, after all. I'm taking one to that Jack Vettriano exhibition at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and going to one of those open-air concerts on Glasgow Green with another.'
âYou're such a bloody culture vulture, aren't you? Give me a night in The Garage and a greasy kebab any day of the week. Cities were made for people like you,' Frankie replied with a smile.
âWhat can I say, I'm a city slicker! Anyway, I'd better go and tell Paul that Mulberry House is in the bag. Hopefully now the promotion will be too.'
Frankie gave me a thumbs-up. âGood luck!'
As I strode towards my boss's office, I couldn't help but feel excited. This was the start of something amazing. The next phase of my life was about to begin and I couldn't wait.
*
Or not.
As I shared my amazing news, Paul sat back in his chair and winced like he was in a lot of pain. There was a lot of sucking in through his teeth, head tilts and grimaces.
âThe thing is, Emilyâ¦' He paused and stared around the room, trying to decide what the next words out of his mouth would be. âTara's kind of beaten you to the punch.'
My blood instantly began to boil and I wondered if steam was about to come out of my ears like in a cartoon. This was supposed to be the best moment of my life and my biggest rival had gone and pulled the rug from underneath me. Tara bloody Murray.
