The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square: A gorgeous summer romance and one of the top holiday reads for women!
‘The perfect blend of sweetness and substance, with plenty of laughs along the way’ Debbie Johnson, bestselling author of Summer at the Comfort Food CafeOne chance isn't always enough…A feel-good story that’s as scrumptious as your favourite slice of cake!Emma’s new café will be perfect, with its gorgeous strings of vintage bunting, mouth-wateringly gooey cakes, comforting pots of tea and quirky customers who think of each other as friends.It’s a long road to get there, but as her business fills with freelancing hipsters, stroppy teens, new mums and old neighbourhood residents, Emma realises that they’re not the only ones getting a second chance. She is too.But when someone commits bloomicide on their window boxes, their milk starts disappearing and their cake orders are mysteriously cancelled, it becomes clear that someone is determined to close them down.Will the café be their second chance after all?Praise for Lilly Bartlett:‘Fun, flirtatious and fresh’ Alex Brown, bestselling author The Secret of Orchard Cottage‘Warm, witty, and wonderful – the perfect rom com’ Debbie Johnson, bestselling author of Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe‘I loved the humour, the settings, the quirkiness, and ALL the characters’ Jane Linfoot, bestselling author of The Little Wedding Shop by the Sea‘Absolutely wonderful romantic comedy that is guaranteed to lift your spirits’ Rachel’s Random Reads
Читать The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square: A gorgeous summer romance and one of the top holiday reads for women! онлайн беплатно
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Lilly Bartlett 2017
Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © Micaela Alcaino 2017
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Lilly Bartlett 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 e-book 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.
Source ISBN: 9780008226602
Ebook Edition © June 2017 ISBN: 9780008226596
Version: 2018-05-24
The book is dedicated to my friend, Fanny Blake – author, editor, unerring support and amazing woman. It was your idea to unleash Lilly Bartlett. Thank you, and here’s to many more years together in the park.
Table of Contents
I can’t keep my hand from shaking as I reread the crinkled notice. What a complete load of rubbish! Criminals?! They’re only children, for heaven’s sake. Most of them haven’t even been to court yet. Intimidated grannies? Have you seen the old-timers around here? I wouldn’t fancy my chances against any of them down a dark alley.
This really is the last straw.
All publicity might be good publicity, but the leaflet that’s been pushed through every letterbox on the square won’t exactly bring the punters in for a cuppa, will it?
‘They were up all over the main road too,’ says Lou, chewing on the end of her pale blue hair. She knows it’s not attractive – or hygienic – when she does that, but who can blame her? She’s only worried for me. For all of us.
‘You want me to send the lads round to ’ave a word?’ she asks. ‘You know it’s her behind it.’ She punches her fist into the palm of her hand, like I wouldn’t catch her meaning otherwise. Fat chance of that. Lou’s about as subtle as an armed robbery. The last thing we need now is for her to go over there and prove everyone right.
Of course I know it’s her behind it. It’s been her behind it ever since we opened the café. But sending the kids around is only going to make the situation worse. And Lou knows that as well as I do.
I can feel tears welling in my eyes as I scan the leaflet again. It’s not sadness, though. It’s pissed-offness. I stare hard at the strings of calico bunting that criss-cross the ceiling until I’m sure I won’t weep in front of my employees. Every single person in here, I remind myself – sipping their hot drinks, chatting, laughing or quietly enjoying the warm cosy ambiance – loves our café. So get a grip on yourself. Sticks and stones and all that.
One of the walkie-talkies crackles to life on the countertop. ‘Emma, Emma, come in, Emma.’
I’m not sure why I ever thought it would be clever to let the customers upstairs give us orders over those things. Most of the time they use them to ask the answers to stupid trivia questions that they’re too lazy to look up on their phones.
I’m in no mood for trivia right now. ‘What is it, Leo?’ I’m sure my annoyance comes through loud and clear despite the static.
‘We need you upstairs.’
‘Do you actually need me to bring you something or is this your usual afternoon plea for attention? Because I haven’t really got time right now.’
There’s a pause. ‘It’s just my usual plea for attention. Sorry to bother you. Over and out.’ The walkie-talkie goes dead.
Now I’m cross and I feel bad. I’m absolutely definitely not treating Leo any differently than usual. I’d have been just as short with him yesterday. It’s the situation that’s changed, not me. And definitely not my feelings.
Something tells me today should have been a duvet day.
Two months earlier…
I’m sitting at our solid old dining room table, oblivious to the fact that I’m about to make a mortal enemy. I don’t even know Leo yet, or Lou or Joseph or most of the customers who will become my friends. Morning sun streams through the wide bay window in the front room, throwing a long rectangle of light along the floor. It’ll reach my chair in another hour, but I’ll be long gone by then.
