Curl up in The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises with a latte and a scone, the perfect antidote to a grey day!
Mel’s dream of opening a coffee shop is finally a reality! A cosy little place turning out the best flat whites and most delicious pastries in Devon. In the picture-perfect town of Rabbit’s Leap no one can stand in her way – especially local pub owner, Tony. She doesn't care how gorgeous he is, she will not let him steal her customers with his fancy new coffee machine!
There is only room in their small town for one coffee shop…but when Hurricane Val - aka her mother - is due to blow into town, Mel is in desperate need of an instant boyfriend. She can’t face another hunt to 'find a man' and while Tony may be her business rival, Mel can’t help but notice he’d make the perfect fake fiancé…
If they can strike a deal all they need to do is stick to it, no falling in love, no real feelings and definitely no dreams of a happy-ever-after!
The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises
Kellie Hailes
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
At the age of five KELLIE HAILES declared she was going write books when she grew up. It took a while for her to get there, with a career as a radio copywriter, freelance copywriter and web writer filling the dream-hole, until now. Kellie lives on an island-that’s-not-really-an-island in New Zealand with her patient husband, funny little human and neurotic cat. When the characters in her head aren’t dictating their story to her, she can be found taking short walks, eating good cheese and jonesing for her next coffee fix.
To my husband. From the day I came home and told you I was going to write romance novels you never once doubted me. Thank you for sitting opposite me every morning at our local cafe while I banged out words and drank my flat white. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to chase my dreams. Thank you for being you.
To Louisa George. I thought I’d struck gold when you agreed to be my mentor. Gold? More like diamonds. Thank you for pushing and supporting me. As a mentor and a friend, you’re a gem.
To Susie Frame. Thank you for your thoughtful advice, support and friendship. Oh, and the comma policing. Best critique partner, ever.
To Chris and Peter Hailes, Laura Hancox, Natalie Gillespie and Wendi Lane for putting up with my endless questions and never failing to come through with an answer.
To my amazing editor, Victoria Oundjian. Thank you for giving my characters a chance to see the light of day. Thank you for making my dream come true.
For Aaron, who always believed in me.
Contents
‘Wine. Now. And don’t get mouthy with me.’
Mel watched Tony’s sea-blue eyes light up as his lips parted slightly…
‘What’s got your knick…’
‘I’m serious,’ she cut in, before he had a chance to be the second person to grind her gears that day. ‘I’m in no mood for your cheek. And I can tell by that twitchy jaw of yours that you’re contemplating still trying to give me some.’ Mel took off her navy peacoat and shuddered as wintry air wrapped its way around her thin form. She promptly buttoned up again and tugged her scarf tighter around her neck. ‘All I want from you is for you to do your job, pour me a glass of pinot gris and leave me to drink it, alone, and in peace. And why is it so cold in here? It’s freezing out. It shouldn’t be freezing in.’ She shook her head. ‘No matter. I don’t care. The wine will warm me up.’
‘Bu…’
‘No. No buts. No whys. No questions.’ She pointed to the glass-doored fridge. ‘Just get the bottle, get a glass, and pour.’ Mel gave Tony her best glare, hoping to get past his notoriously thick skin.
She watched the muscles in his jaw continue to work, as if debating whether to ignore her order to be left in peace or do that clichéd ‘had a bad day, tell me about it’ barman patter. Sensibility must have won, because he turned and bent over to grab a bottle of pinot gris from the chiller, giving her a fantastic view of his toned and rounded rear. A view she’d usually take a moment to appreciate, but not right now, not after the unexpected, and not in a good way, phone call she’d just received from her mother.
Tony sloshed the wine into a tired-looking, age-speckled glass, pushed it in her direction, then punched at the card machine. ‘Here you go,’ he said, proffering the handset.
Mel squinted at the numbers on the screen. ‘Tony, um, that’s not right. You’ve overcharged me.’
‘No, that’s the price.’ Tony nodded, but kept his eyes firmly on the bar. ‘Since the beginning of this week.’
‘Really? You can’t tell me a bottle of wine rose in price by almost double in the space of seven days?’
‘You’re right, it hasn’t.’ He glanced up. ‘But the hole in my muffler is yelling at me to put the prices up. And I haven’t in years, so...’
‘Oh. Okay. Sorry.’ Mel handed over her bank card, embarrassed to have questioned the price rise. She’d heard the village gossip. Tony’s business wasn’t doing so well. Apparently hadn’t been for years, but had got worse since his dad passed away the year before. Not that she knew much about that. She’d been new to town, and didn’t want to get a reputation as a gossip, so had only heard the