Today I am delighted to feature an extract from Karen King’s latest feel-good romantic novel One Summer in Cornwall.
Escape to Cornwall this
summer...
A gorgeous feel-good read, perfect for fans of CATHY BRAMLEY and PHILLIPA
ASHLEY.
Sunlight streaming through her window woke Hattie up the
next morning. And it sounded as though the seagulls were having a party on the
roof. She sat up for a moment, hugging her knees, thinking how drastically her
life had changed in the past few days. On Monday, she’d had a home and a job,
now, five days later, she had neither. She shook her head. She wasn’t thinking
about that now – this was a chance for her to sort out her life, and she was
going to grab it with both hands.
She threw back the sheet, ran over to
the window and looked out, just as she used to do when she was a child on
holiday here, eager to see the shimmering ribbon of sea over the rooftops. The
cottage was just a few minutes’ walk from the picturesque harbour, and when she
was younger she had often opened the window and inhaled the sea air, with her
mother anxiously warning her not to lean out. She wasn’t going to do that now,
not until she was dressed, anyway, so contented herself with kneeling down, so
only her head was visible, and peering at the sparkling turquoise ocean just a
stone’s throw away. She couldn’t wait to walk along the beach and have a
paddle. She almost felt as though she was on holiday! I’m going to take a
few days to relax and have a good look around, she decided, then I’ll
start tidying up the house. She and her father had agreed to put the
cottage on the market as soon as they could, so she would probably only be here
for the summer, but at least it gave her some time
to sort out the shambles that her life had become.
First, though, she needed a cup of
milky coffee to wake her up. She’d put a box of three-in-one sachets in her
right saddlebag, in case there were no supplies in the house. She carefully
negotiated the first set of narrow stairs to stop off at the bathroom to go to
the loo and splash some water on her face, then cautiously descended the other
staircase to the kitchen.
‘Who is it? Who is it?’ Buddy screeched
as she walked in.
‘Morning, Buddy. It’s me, Hattie!’ she
called. She filled up the electric kettle, glad that the old stove kettle she
remembered, with the high-pitched whistle that let you know when the water had
boiled, had been replaced. The almost-new silver kettle and matching microwave
looked a bit out of place in the dated kitchen, but she was grateful for them.
She took a clean mug out of the cupboard, then froze as she heard the back door
open and someone stride in, whistling cheerfully. Horrified, she spun around
and stared at the suntanned stranger, who was dressed in low-slung grey surfer
shorts that skimmed his hips. His long fair hair was tied back in a ponytail,
revealing a tiny silver cross earring dangling from his right ear, he had a
large tattoo on each upper arm, and his body was taut and toned. Then his hazel
eyes widened as they flitted to her naked body. Shit! She’d forgot she
was starkers! They both stared at each other, dumbstruck for a second, then
Buddy’s screech of ‘Bloody Hell!’ brought Hattie to her senses.
Two quick steps and she’d whisked the
checked tablecloth off the table and quickly wrapped it around herself. She
glared at the man. ‘Who the hell are you? And how dare you walk in like this!’
‘More to the point, who are you?’
the man demanded. ‘I’m Marcus, from next door. I’m here to feed Buddy. I’ve
been looking after him.’
Damn! She remembered thinking yesterday that Buddy looked well
fed and cared for, so a neighbour must be popping in to feed him. Why the hell
hadn’t she pulled her dressing gown on this morning? Because it was still in
her saddlebag and she was half asleep and hadn’t expected someone to walk into
her kitchen this early in the morning, that’s why. It was barely eight o’clock!
‘I’m Hattie,
Albert’s niece. He left this cottage to me and my dad in his will.’ She
held the tablecloth tighter around herself, the plastic feeling sticky and
uncomfortable against her skin. ‘I came down last night. I’m staying here until
the cottage is sold.’
A look of disdain crossed Marcus’s
suntanned face and his hazel eyes narrowed . ‘I
thought you were coming down next weekend. You
obviously couldn’t wait to claim your inheritance. Shame you didn’t see fit
to visit your uncle when he was alive and lonely.’
Buy Links
Preorder: https://t.co/cGO6wxrZMN?amp=1
Karen King Bio
Karen King is a multi-published author of both adult and
children’s books. She has had eight romantic novels published, one
psychological thriller with another one out later this year, 120 children’s
books, two young adult novels, and several short stories for women’s
magazines. Her romantic novel The Cornish Hotel by the Sea became
an international bestseller, reaching the top one hundred in the Kindle charts
in both the UK and Australia. Karen is a member of the Romantic Novelists’
Association, the Society of Authors and the Society of Women Writers and
Journalists. Karen now lives in Spain where she loves to spend her non-writing
time exploring the quaint local towns with her husband, Dave, when she isn’t
sunbathing or swimming in the pool, that is.
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