The Little Café in Copenhagen: Fall in love and escape the winter blues with this wonderfully heartwarming and feelgood novel
Welcome to the little cafe in Copenhagen where the smell of cinnamon fills the air, the hot chocolate is as smooth as silk and romance is just around the corner…‘An irresistible combination of Danish happiness and hygge in one un-put-down-able story’Sunday Times bestseller Katie FfordePublicist Kate Sinclair’s life in London is everything she thought she wanted: success, glamour and a charming boyfriend. Until that boyfriend goes behind her back and snatches a much sought-after promotion from her.Heartbroken and questioning everything, Kate needs to escape.From candles and cosy nights in to romantic late-night walks through the beautiful cobbled streets of Copenhagen, Kate discovers how to live life ‘the Danish way’. Can the secrets of hygge and happiness lead her to her own happily-ever-after?Everybody loves Julie Caplin…‘A fantastic, huggable, hilarious and addictive read’ The Writing Garnet‘It’s all about the feels…I absolutely loved it’ The Cosiest Corner‘Sweet, funny and deliciously heart-warming’ Frankly, My Dear…‘I've already read it again since I finished it… a true sign of how much I enjoyed it’ Life Appears
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HarperImpulse
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Copyright © Julie Caplin 2018
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Julie Caplin 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.
Source ISBN: 9780008259747
Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008259730
Version: 2018-10-26
Table of Contents
For the Copenhagen Crew, Alison Cyster-White & Jan Lee-Kelly, my dearest friends, partners in crime and thoroughly wonderful travel elves. #highlyrecoâmmendedtraâvellingcompanions
âSee you later.â I dropped a quick kiss on Joshâs lips and we exchanged a knowing smile. He pulled me towards him and went back for a second lingering kiss, his hands finding their way inside my coat to slide down my bottom and then start inching up my dress.
âSure you donât want to stay a bit longer?â His voice held a note of husky suggestion.
âNo. I canât. Youâre going to be late, and,â I glanced over my shoulder, âDan might walk in at any second.â His flatmate had the unerring ability of a Labrador sniffing a crotch to interrupt at precisely the wrong moment. My flatmate, Connie, had much greater diplomacy; in fact she had social skills.
He let go of me and picked up his cereal bowl, leaning against the kitchen counter, lazily eating as if he had all the time in the world.
âSee you later.â He winked.
I picked up my laptop case and closed the front door of his, far nicer than mine, flat, and hurried down the road to the tube station mentally reviewing all that I needed to get done that day.
After two years of seamless travel to work, albeit sweaty, stuffy and crowded with the regular frustration of delays and hold ups, I missed my stop. The first time ever. This travel hiccough should have registered. In London, you have to be on the ball all the time. Checking your emails, phone messages, social media threads, it was endless. I missed my stop, simply because I was too absorbed in thinking what a load of bollocks as I read an article on some latest lifestyle fad over someoneâs shoulder. Hygge. My flat mate Connie had been muttering about it the other night, waving some book about and lighting candles left right and centre in a woeful attempt to make our dismal flat homelier. As far I was concerned a couple of candles were never going to compensate for our landlordâs hideous taste and before I knew it the doors had closed on Oxford Circus.
Having to get off at the next stop and go back down the line didnât make me late, only later than usual. Iâm always at work super-early. Showing my commitment. How serious I am about my job. Not that I mind or Iâm trying to score brownie-points, well maybe just a few. I just canât wait to get there. Oh, God that sounds real eager, arse-licker, beaver. Itâs not like that at all. I love my job, as a public relations Account Director. I work for one of the top PR agencies in London. I say I love my job, I do most of the time. The office politics and promotion manoeuvring I could do without and the pay could be an awful lot better. But hopefully that was about to change, I was overdue a long-promised promotion. Then Iâd be earning a bit more and I could afford to move to somewhere where there isnât a ten-inch Mohican fringe of blue mould growing down the living room wall.
Tube stop fiasco aside, there was time to treat myself to a Butterscotch Brulée Latte and it was only when I was in the queue that I saw a text from my boss, Megan, asking if I could pop in and see her first thing.
