The Little Book Café: Amy’s Story
Escape to the seaside for a new three-part series for fans of The Canal Boat Cafe and Willow CottageAmy, the manager of The Little Book Café, is a hopeless romantic who had her heart broken, but quietly refuses to give up on love.With her friends Tash and Emma, not to mention their shared love of books and delicious cake from the café next door, Amy might just find the courage to fall for a real life romance this time…Amy's Story is the final instalment of The Little Book Cafe series so wrap up warm this Autumn and treasure this wonderful book.
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HarperImpulse
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018
Copyright © Georgia Hill 2018
Cover design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollins Publishers 2018
Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com
Georgia Hill 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 authorâs 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.
Ebook Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008281281
Version: 2018-09-18
To Bertie, with love and cuddles.
Table of Contents
An early morning sea fret stole around Amyâs feet as she struggled to fit the key into the lock of the enormous double doors of the book café. Really ought to squirt some WD-40 in it, she thought, just as it unexpectedly gave way and she fell in. Switching on the outside lights, Amy peered out into the swirling mist which shrouded Berecombe harbour and hid it from view. It was cold this morning and a shiver ran down her spine. Glancing down, she dropped her bags in shock. The pumpkins, which she had spent ages carving and had arranged carefully on the outside step last night, had been destroyed! Getting closer for a better look, she saw that all three pumpkins, which she had whimsically named Mummy, Daddy and Baby Pumpkin had been stamped on. Whoever had done it hadnât even wanted to steal the things; theyâd just mindlessly flattened them and made an unholy mess in front of the bookshop.
Amy stared horrified. She had spent most of the weekend taking out the pumpkin innards and carving comical faces into them. It was still only the beginning of October but she had great plans for the shop at Halloweâen. Getting the pumpkins ready had been hard work, but fun â and it had filled yet another empty weekend. If this is what some Berecombe residents thought of her efforts, she may as well not bother. Tears prickling, she returned to the shop, stowed away her things and went to find a dustpan and brush.
Just as she was putting the pumpkin filled bags into the commercial bins at the side of the building, she heard someone open the shop door. The bell jangled; its sound cutting through the still damp air, and her heart lifted. It was far too early to be a customer, and besides, she hadnât turned the closed sign over yet. It must be Patrick. He often popped in for a chat and an early morning coffee. Hurrying round to the shop front, her heart sank back to it accustomed position when, instead of Patrickâs shock of unruly black hair and his dimpled grin, she saw the figure of her mother.
Katrina Chilcombe was holding the shop door sign between her finger and thumb, as if its very touch would infect her. ââSorry, weâve closed the book for today,ââ she read. ââPlease come back tomorrow for more wise words.ââ Looking up, she saw her daughter. âOh there you are, Amy.â Her lips curled. âWouldnât a simple âclosedâ sign do?â Before Amy could stop her, she turned it over and read, with derision, ââCome in for a lovely read, comfortable sofas, fantastic coffee and yummy cakes.â Oh really, Amy? Itâs hardly professional.â
âBut friendly,â Amy wanted to say. âAnd sets the tone for how I want The Little Book Café to feel,â but she didnât. As usual, when her mother belittled her, she remained silent. Looking down, she scuffed her shoes in a smear of pumpkin that sheâd missed. It was turning into a hell of a Monday morning.
âAnd where have you been? The place is like the
