The Little Wedding Island: the perfect holiday beach read for 2018
‘Just fabulous!’ Sparkly Word‘Will you… pretend to marry me?’Bonnie Haskett loves everything about weddings. She loves her job at a national bridal magazine and even has a deposit down on her dream dress. The only problem? She doesn’t have a fiancé!So when Bonnie is sent to Edelweiss Island, known as ‘The Little Wedding Island’, it’s a dream come true. She’s heard the rumours, every wedding that takes place in the tiny chapel ends in a happy-ever-after.But there’s a catch! Investigating the story, Bonnie needs to pose as a blushing bride – and the only man up for posing as her groom is her arch rival (and far too handsome for his own good) journalist Rohan Carter…A gorgeously uplifting summer romance. Perfect for fans of Holly Martin and Caroline Roberts.What readers are saying about The Little Wedding Island:‘Such a delightful and engaging read.’ Renee Cupp (NetGalley reviewer)‘One of the best books I have read.’ Annette Naish (NetGalley reviewer)‘You don’t want it to end.’ Kat Robson (NetGalley reviewer)‘Absolutely fantastic!’ Lynn McCrum (NetGalley reviewer)
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‘Will you… pretend to marry me?’
Bonnie Haskett loves everything about weddings. She loves her job at a national bridal magazine and even has a deposit down on her dream dress. The only problem? She doesn’t have a fiancé!
So when Bonnie is sent to Edelweiss Island, known as ‘The Little Wedding Island’, it’s a dream come true. She’s heard the rumours, every wedding that takes place in the tiny chapel ends in a happy-ever-after.
But there’s a catch! Bonnie needs a groom in order to pose as a blushing bride – and the only man up for the job is her arch rival (and far too good-looking) journalist Rohan Art…
A gorgeously uplifting summer romance, perfect for fans of Holly Martin and Caroline Roberts.
Also by Jaimie Admans
The Château of Happily-Ever-Afters
The Little Wedding Island
Jaimie Admans
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
JAIMIE ADMANS is a 32-year-old English-sounding Welsh girl with an awkward-to-spell name. She lives in South Wales and enjoys writing, gardening, watching horror movies and drinking tea, although she’s seriously considering marrying her coffee machine. She loves autumn and winter, and singing songs from musicals despite the fact she’s got the voice of a dying hyena. She hates spiders, hot weather and cheese & onion crisps. She spends far too much time on Twitter and owns too many pairs of boots. She will never have time to read all the books she wants to read.
Jaimie loves to hear from readers, you can visit her website at www.jaimieadmans.com or connect on Twitter @be_the_spark.
Mum, thank you for the constant patience, support, encouragement, and for always believing in me. Love you lots!
Bill, Toby, Cathie, and Bev – thank you for always being supportive and enthusiastic! It really means the world!
Thank you to my Chihuahua, Bruiser, for letting me use him as a sounding board for plot problems and listening intently when I read dialogue aloud to him!
The lovely and talented fellow HQ authors – I don’t know what I’d do without all of you!
All the lovely authors and bloggers I know on Twitter. You’ve all been so supportive since the very first book, and I want to mention you all by name, but I know I’ll forget someone and I don’t want to leave anyone out, so to everyone I chat to on Twitter or Facebook – thank you.
The little writing group that doesn’t have a name – Sharon Sant, Sharon Atkinson, Dan Thompson, Jack Croxall, Holly Martin, Jane Yates. I can always turn to you guys!
Chris, Aaron, Bryan Thomas, Annette and Sarah, my lovely Llama and Owlee – thank you for being awesome friends!
Thank you to the team at HQ and especially my fantastic editor, Charlotte Mursell, for all the hard work and support!
And a massive thanks to you for reading!
To my lovely mum – thank you for always being there for me.
Contents
‘Bonnie, you can’t argue with people on Twitter just because you don’t agree with something they say.’ My boss, Oliver, pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to stifle his fortieth headache since I got into his office five minutes ago.
I sigh. I knew I was going to get in trouble for this. ‘But did you see what he said about that lovely couple’s beautiful wedding? I couldn’t ignore his delusional twuntery – someone had to say something.’
‘He works for The Man Land. We’re in direct competition with them and you know it. By arguing with him, you’ve given him more publicity. Thanks to that little stunt on Twitter over the weekend, he’s gained another few thousand followers who are all laughing at his column with him while laughing at you and our magazine.’
‘Someone needed to call him out. He can’t just go around writing such horrible things about people’s wedding days.’
‘But not someone who works for the other magazine in this battle of the mags thing that Hambridge Publishing have got us embroiled in. Everyone knows it’s them versus us, but it’s meant to be in a professional way. It’s not meant to degenerate into petty insults and name-calling. How you conduct yourself online, even outside of work, reflects back on our magazine.’
‘I use an icon on Twitter. No one knows it’s me.’
Oliver rubs his temples. ‘You use a random photo of a wedding dress, your real name, and your bio says you write for Two Gold Rings magazine.’
‘It’s not a random photo – it’ll be my wedding dress one day,’ I mutter.
I don’t know why I’m trying to defend myself. He’s right. I love writing for a bridal magazine and I do mention it in my Twitter bio. The thousands of people who retweeted my argument with Mr R.C. Art over the weekend know exactly who I work for and the very public battle between us and The Man Land.
I try again. ‘He called the bride a twenty-one-year-old sentient boob job fake-tanned to the colour of an overcooked Wotsit and the groom a seventy-year-old walking bank account sponsored by Viagra!’
