The Flower Shop on Foxley Street
A new love could be about to bloom for Lily in this bright, warm women’s fiction title that fans of Holly Hepburn and Cathy Bramley will love.Lily Rose Baxter loves her little flower shop on Foxley Street and the freedom and independence from her family that it represents.Lily can't help but feel that something is missing from her life…, but when mysterious stranger Will Singer comes into her shop looking for the perfect bouquet of roses, all that could be about to change.
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A new love could be about to bloom for Lily
Lily Rose Baxter loves her little flower shop on Foxley Street and the freedom and independence from her family that it represents.
Lily can’t help but feel that something is missing from her life…, but when mysterious stranger Will Singer comes into her shop looking for the perfect bouquet of roses, all that could be about to change.
Fans of Holly Hepburn and Cathy Bramley will adore this bright, warm women’s fiction read.
The Chic Boutique on Baker Street
The Flower Shop on Foxley Street
Rachel Dove
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
RACHEL DOVE is a mum of two from Yorkshire. She has always loved writing, has had previous success as a self-published author, and is the author of The Chic Boutique on Baker Street. Rachel is the winner of the Mills & Boon Prima Flirty Fiction competition.
She is the winner of the 2016 Writers Bureau Writer of the Year Award and has had work published overseas. She is currently working on her 5th book, and can often be found glued to a keyboard.
She is a former post 16 teacher and is passionate about English, reading and special educational needs.
Acknowledgements to me are sometimes harder to write than an actual book, as I worry about leaving people out.
Lots of effort goes into making a book, from the first idea to seeing it out there in the world, and it's not just me sat behind a keyboard that makes it happen.
First of all, a big thanks to my editor Anna Baggaley, who is responsible for turning my ideas into the polished versions you amazing readers get to read, and the HQ Digital team for giving my characters a home.
As always, authors and bloggers are an important part, and I have to give a big shout out to my author family, who keep me sane, make me laugh and don't judge me for my Gerard Butler obsession.
(Gerard, if you're reading this, call me.)
To name but a few: Lisa Hall, Holly Martin, Ann Troup, Portia MacIntosh, Darcie Boleyn, Ann Troup, Raven Allen, Lynda Stacey, Sarah Bennett, Kaisha Holloway, JB Johnston, Claire Allen and Roxie Cooper.
Also a shout out to Mills & Boon and Prima magazine, who helped me start this journey
Love you all
Lily Rose Baxter pulled up to Foxley Street in her bright pink van and, after turning the engine off, closed her green eyes and finished off her conversation with Michael Bublé. Or rather, she rested her head on the worn headrest and let the rest of his song, playing from the radio, wash over her as she finished her imaginary conversation. It was the same as usual, Bublé using his smooth silky tones to declare that he was leaving his life, and hopping on the nearest jet to Westfield to pick her up. She always played hard to get in her daydream, as any girl would, but today, if Mr Bean turned up in his mini with a bag of Haribo she would dive into his arms and chug off into the sunset.
Home was horrible. It was a minefield of awkward silences, pointed barbs and downright open hostility. Going down to breakfast this morning felt like it needed a two-drink minimum. Lily had finally called it a day after the fourth insult and got breakfast on the go instead. If a banana salvaged from the bowl on her way past counted as a morning meal. She knew Roger would have the coffee machine going, and the thought of that java warming her bones thrilled her.
Retailers as a rule hated the January slump, but Lily was optimistic. She knew January brought with it a new year of occasions, new loves, the promise that this year would be the one when her life changed. This year also heralded her thirtieth birthday, and she hoped that it would be an important year for other reasons too.
She zipped her body warmer up to the top and, flicking an errant leaf off her blue jeans, she got out of the van, locked up, and half jogged to her shopfront. It was still early, only just after eight, but she knew that the fresh delivery would be in, and Roger would be hard at work with today’s orders.
Thank God for Roger. As she opened her front door, she heard the familiar tinkle of the bell and was hit with the welcome scent of flowers and foliage. The radio was playing in the back, and she could hear her assistant and friend humming along to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. The weight in her shoulders lifted, and she worked her fingers on the knot at the base of her neck as she flicked the shop sign to open.
‘Morning! Happy 3rd of January!’ a happy voice trilled. Roger came around the corner, a large white lily in hand. ‘Coffee?’
Lily beamed at him, nodding. ‘That would be great, thanks. Is that the Carson order?’
Roger nodded at the flower sadly. ‘Yes, poor Mrs Carson. These winters in the countryside, poor old dears drop like flies.’
