The Little Cottage in the Country
‘A sweet and charming story.’ Kaye Temanson (NetGalley reviewer)A delightfully uplifting romantic comedy to get you in the mood for summer! Escape to the country!Anna Compton thought that moving to the countryside, leaving London and her past firmly behind her was the perfect solution. Goodbye life of thirty-something, crazed single mum of two, hello country glamour queen, domestic goddess and yummy-mummy extraordinaire.But her new life at Primrose Cottage isn’t quite what she expected! Very soon she’s chasing pork pies down hills, disguising her shop-bought cakes at the school bake sale – and trying to resist oh-so-handsome Horatio Spencerville, who just so happens to be the Lord of the Manor…Could moving to the country be the biggest mistake she’s ever made?Perfect for fans of Christie Barlow, Holly Martin and Tilly Tennant.Praise for Lottie Phillips:‘A sweet and charming story.’ Kaye Temanson (NetGalley reviewer)‘An easy summer read.’ Helena Manoli (NetGalley reviewer)‘Loved it. I laughed my way through it!’ Donna Orrock (NetGalley reviewer)‘A great story. I can’t wait for the next book by this author!’ Paige Kowolewski (NetGalley reviewer)
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Escape to the country!
Anna Compton thought that moving to the countryside, leaving London and her past firmly behind her was the perfect solution. Goodbye life of thirty-something, crazed single mum of two, hello country glamour queen, domestic goddess and yummy-mummy extraordinaire.
But her new life at Primrose Cottage isn’t quite what she expected! Very soon she’s chasing pork pies down hills, disguising her shop-bought cakes at the school bake sale – and trying to resist oh-so-handsome Horatio Spencerville, who just so happens to be the Lord of the Manor…
Could moving to the country be the biggest mistake she’s ever made?
A delightfully uplifting romantic comedy to get you in the mood for summer! Perfect for fans of Christie Barlow, Holly Martin and Tilly Tennant.
The Little Cottage in the Country
Lottie Phillips
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
LOTTIE PHILLIPS
worked as a teacher before turning her hand to fiction. She was brought up in Africa and the Middle East and then - as an adult - travelled extensively before moving to London and finally settling in the Cotswolds with her partner and toddler. When she’s not writing, you will find her scouring interior design magazines and shops, striving toward the distant dream of being a domestic goddess or having a glass of wine with country music turned up loud. As a child, she always had her nose in a book and, in particular, Nancy Drew. The Little Cottage in the Country is her first romantic comedy but she also writes psychological thrillers under the pseudonym Louise Stone. Readers can find Lottie Phillips, otherwise known as Charlie Phillips, on Twitter @writercharlie or at www.writercharlie.com
An enormous thank you to Charlotte Mursell, my editor, for her support and wonderful enthusiasm every step of the way.
To the entire team at HQ who are all incredible.
Em, Ros and Louise: my gorgeous school friends whose strength and uncontrollable laughter is what this book is all about.
My parents for being beautiful people and for just ‘getting’ it.
Jon and Finn: you are my world. Thank you for giving my life meaning.
Ed: this book is dedicated to you because you are the best brother a sister could ask for.
To Ed, with lots of love
Anna took a deep, cleansing breath as she knocked. The name on the door read ‘Barry Smith, Editor-in-Chief’. The faint trace of Tipp-Ex, where Sheryl had crossed out Smith and written White at last year’s Christmas party, still remained.
‘Come in,’ boomed the voice.
Anna opened the door, gripping the handle tightly as she tried to control her nerves.
Barry looked up briefly from his computer, a sheen of sweat glistening across his bulbous, bald head. ‘This had better be good, Compton. I’m trying to make a meal out of the crap you lot give me, and you know what? I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, I don’t know why I put up with it. I could fire the lot of you and start again.’ He pinched the top of his nose and rubbed his eyes using his free hand, his spectacles jiggling up and down. ‘Come in, Compton. Sit, for God’s sake.’
Anna moved forward, closed the door behind her and smoothed her skirt. As she did, she caught sight of the remnants of her son’s porridge near her behind. She grew hot under the collar and then realised she must also have got caught downwind of her daughter’s milk tsunami. The smell of gone-off cheese started to permeate her nostrils and she tried to remained focused.
‘Barry,’ Anna started, taking a seat as requested, ‘I’m leaving The Post.’
She had been hoping he might show even a vague sense of regret but, instead, he grinned.
‘Leaving?’
Anna cleared her throat. ‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Going anywhere good?’
Anna clenched and unclenched her fists, kneading her skirt. ‘Barry, I just said I’m leaving.’
Barry let out a bark of a laugh. ‘What do you want me to do? Cry?’
‘No,’ Anna started. ‘Oh, do you know what, you can stuff your job. I was going to ask for a reference, but frankly…’ As Anna spoke, her head was buzzing with regret (she needed a reference, she had children, she was going to the great unknown). ‘I don’t need a sodding reference from you. I mean, who’ll have heard of The Post in Trumpsey Blazey?’
Barry chuckled. ‘Ah, so you’re making a break for the countryside, old gal.’ He paused. ‘I presume you’ve got a job, or have you…?’ He grinned. ‘No, Anna Compton cannot have found a new man – a millionaire?!’
Anna stood. ‘I don’t need to take this rubbish from you. I’ve found a beautiful home, the children are going to a wonderfully rated primary school and I…’ She stammered. ‘Will find another job with a
