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The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5)

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by Kathryn Freeman




  The Beach Reads Book Club

  Kathryn Freeman

  One More Chapter

  a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

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  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

  * * *

  Copyright © Kathryn Freeman 2021

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  Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  * * *

  Kathryn Freeman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  * * *

  A catalogue record 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 author’s 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: 9780008462284

  Ebook Edition © June 2021 ISBN: 9780008462277

  Version: 2021-06-10

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading…

  You will also love…

  About the Author

  Also by Kathryn Freeman

  One More Chapter...

  About the Publisher

  This is one for all bookworms (and butterflies), book clubs and book club members, book bloggers and book readers.

  * * *

  And it’s also for all fans of romcoms, chicklit, romance and happy ever afters. Life would be a duller place without them.

  Chapter One

  The moment Lottie carefully opened the door of the library reading room and slipped inside, she had a flashback to her school days. Once again she was sneaking in late, hoping the teacher wouldn’t notice. Once again, she hadn’t done her flipping homework. Eve’s gaze zeroed in on her, and Lottie sighed.

  Yep, and once again, the teacher had it in for her.

  ‘Sorry.’ Lottie shot Eve, who ran the book club with military precision, an apologetic smile. ‘What did I miss?’

  ‘The first fifteen minutes of discussion.’ Eve gave her a frosty look. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell the group what your favourite part of the book was?’

  ‘Err, that’s a good question.’ Shit. Blagging was hard when she couldn’t even remember the title of the bloody thing.

  Eve raised a dark eyebrow. ‘It’s the same question we ask every month.’

  Okay, she wasn’t at school. She was a twenty-seven-year-old trained electrician who ran her own business. She was here not because she had to be but because she’d chosen to be. Yet since joining Eve’s book club, the fun had slowly been sucked out of the idea. Now when Eve asked a question, she felt the same creeping dread she had when the teacher had started picking on her.

  As Lottie parked her bum on the spare seat and struggled with how to reply, Gira leant across and whispered, ‘Tell her the best bit was the humour.’

  ‘Err, wasn’t it about a serial killer?’

  Eve cleared her throat. ‘Are you answering the question, or is Gira?’

  Oh, bugger it. This was the second month on the trot she’d failed to pick up the nominated book. Sure, it said something about how busy she was, how knackered when she got home, but it also said something about the choice of book. ‘Confession time, I haven’t read it. Whatever it was.’

  Eve narrowed her eyes. ‘You haven’t read My Sister, The Serial Killer? Like you didn’t read Big Sky last month?’

  ‘No. I’m really sorry, but no.’ Lottie felt all the eyes of the book club members turn to face her. ‘The thing is, the books that are selected, brilliant though I know they must be, judging from the reviews, they’re quite … heavy. They take time and a fair bit of concentration to read them.’

  ‘I can see how concentrating might be difficult for you.’

  Laughter echoed around the room. Usually Lottie was up for having the piss taken out of her, but Eve had touched a nerve still raw from the endless prodding and rubbing her teachers had given it during her school years. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Come on, Lottie.’ Eve gave her a small smile. ‘You’re always talking. It must be hard to focus when so much of your brain power is used for speech.’

  Lottie’s temper, rarely seen, started to wriggle out of its burrow. ‘Isn’t that what being in a club is supposed to be about? Talking to each other?’

  ‘About the books, yes.’

  Lottie drew in a breath, her gaze bouncing round the room. All faces she knew, yet behind them, people she had no clue about. This felt less like the club she’d hoped for and more like a stuffy meeting. ‘Shouldn’t we be able to talk about things outside books, too? Get to know each other a bit rather than stick to a rigid set of questions? And hey, maybe sometimes we could throw in a suggestion of a book to read, rather than following a regimented list? Include a few lighter, fun reads, like a bit of Jilly Cooper?’

  Silence. If a pin had dropped, Lottie would definitely have heard it.

  Feeling awkward, she tried to smile. ‘Okay, judging by your expressions, maybe not. In fact, maybe the best thing for all of us is if I stop interfering with your meeting and leave you guys to it.’

  It might have been a cool exit, if she’d not tripped over the chair in her desperation to get out.

  She was halfway down the corridor when she heard her name being called. She turned to see Gira and … God, how bad was it that she couldn’t even remember the other woman’s name?

  ‘What you said.’ Gira gave her a hesitant smile. ‘Heidi and I, we totally agree with you.’

  ‘Jilly Cooper’s one of my favourites.’ The woman Lottie now realised was Heidi started to laugh. ‘You’ve got no idea how many times I wanted to suggest we read a big, sexy rom com for a change. I used to read them all the ti
me, but then Eve set up the book club. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been great, I’ve read authors I’ve not come across before and books I’d never have tried, but…’

  When she trailed off, Lottie smiled. ‘But you miss the rom coms.’

  Heidi groaned. ‘I miss the fun. And the sexy bits. And God, the love story. That feeling of your heart being twisted, but then everything working out in the end. It’s such a high. Like I imagine you can get from cocaine, only this is cheaper and without the damage.’ Clearly horrified by what she’d just said, she placed a hand over her mouth. ‘This is why my daughters say I shouldn’t be allowed out on my own. Sorry, we’ll let you go. We just wanted you to know you weren’t the only one wishing the next book was a Jilly Cooper.’

  But why shouldn’t it be?

  The thought pinged into Lottie’s head as she made her way back across the car park. Just because Eve’s book club wasn’t right for her, didn’t mean she should give up on the idea of a book club. She’d seen how they were meant to work, how good they could be. In fact, seeing one in action was the whole reason she’d got into reading. She’d hated it when she’d been at school, much as she’d hated school itself. But then, working as a waitress in a coffee shop while she figured out what to do with her life, she’d witnessed her first book club meeting. Seeing the look on their faces, the excitement, the delight when they’d only been talking about books … it had made her wonder if she’d been missing out. Then she’d read one of their recommendations. After that, she’d been hooked, going on to devour all the books she could get her hands on: the book club reads, those lent to her by friends, borrowed from the library, or just sat on the bookshelf at home. She’d especially loved her mum’s rom coms.

  ‘Real guys don’t walk around with roses between their teeth,’ her brother had mocked. ‘And life isn’t full of sappy endings.’

  ‘If you think that’s what romance books are all about, you’ve clearly never read one,’ her mum had countered. ‘They’re about hope, about joy. About handling adversity and coming through the other side stronger. Yes, they’re also about love, the most powerful emotion you’ll ever experience.’

  It had shut her brother up. And Lottie had kept on reading. She’d also kept up with the book club, wangling permission to sit down with them for those precious two hours a month. The other members had been older, but sharing that common interest had made it easy to talk to them, and not just about books. It kept her going through days when she’d doubted herself. Lifted her when the path ahead had seemed so uncertain.

  Sadly, the lady who ran the club had moved away a few years later and the group disbanded. Lottie missed the connection, but by then her life had picked up and she was busy learning a trade. And falling in love.

  Fast forward a few years and she’d seen the flyer for Eve’s book club. Keen to get back into reading again, to rediscover that joy, she’d joined.

  Yet as the months had passed, Eve’s schoolmistress manner had chipped away at any joy she’d found, and the serious, heavy nature of the chosen books had made reading feel like a chore again.

  She wasn’t going to give up on it again though, no way.

  Nor was she going to give up on sharing the love of books, of reading, with other like-minded souls.

  She just needed to find another book club, one that included books more aligned to her own taste.

  And if she couldn’t, well, maybe she’d set up her own.

  A few days later, Lottie parked up outside Books by the Bay, a dream of an old shop whose every nook and cranny was filled with books, new and second-hand. The large premises also boasted a café, nestled in one of the large bay windows that overlooked the beach. A place to sit and ponder your next purchase, or get stuck into your newest acquisition. Or maybe to sneakily retrieve the book you’d started the day before, and carry on reading it while enjoying a cheeky cappuccino. Yep, she’d done that a few times when money had been tight.

  All in all, it was a magical place for bookworms, only slightly marred by the presence of a new owner. Larry had been genial, always greeting his customers with a broad smile, happy to talk about anything and everything.

  Matthew Steele, whom she’d admittedly only met briefly when she’d bought My Sister, The Serial Killer, seemed a lot more reserved. One hell of a lot better looking though, which was a bonus on rainy days when the usually spectacular view across the Solent was more on the grim side, as it was today. February wasn’t the best time of year to be by the coast.

  As she was early, instead of heading straight for the café, Lottie strode up to the counter, clutching the book she’d bought but never opened. Matthew, busy looking through some file, immediately looked up. Once again he was wearing a dark suit – this time charcoal grey, with a white shirt and spotted blue and red tie. Smart, definitely, the way it hugged his broad shoulders suggesting it wasn’t run of the mill M&S. And wow, the race of her pulse was proof he looked good in it. Yet there was something about the formality of it that didn’t sit right with her.

  He sold books, for goodness’ sake. Not office equipment/cars/double glazing but books. Items that could fascinate, thrill or comfort. Could scare you to death or make you laugh out loud. None of that said suit, even if the wearer looked hot in it.

  ‘Hi.’

  He gave her the same polite smile he had last time. ‘Can I help?’

  And yep, just like last time, the smooth, deep timbre of his voice caused a weird flutter in her stomach. Ignoring it, she placed the book on the counter. ‘I’d like to return this. I bought it a few weeks ago to read for a book club, but I didn’t get round to opening it, and now I’ve left the club, so … well, I no longer need it.’

  ‘I see.’

  He picked up the book; long fingers, neat nails. Kind of a sexy hand, really. And that watch. It wasn’t like the fake Rolexes she’d seen, the ones sold from the side of the road near city tourist attractions.

  ‘You have no desire to read about a Nigerian woman whose sister has an unfortunate habit of killing her boyfriends?’

  At his dry tone, she dragged her gaze away from the eye-wateringly expensive watch. ‘It’s more that there are other books I’d like to read instead. Happier books.’

  His deep brown eyes finally met hers, and Lottie felt that flutter again. God, they really were eyes to get lost in. Eyes that surely had the power to envelop, warm the recipient of their dark gaze to the core, if only the owner allowed them. ‘Books you might buy from this shop?’

  Lottie searched his face. Was he teasing, or trying to make a point? ‘I might, if the shop had a decent refund policy.’

  ‘And by decent, you mean…?’

  Lottie flashed her most charming smile. ‘If the policy gave a full refund on an unread book that was definitely purchased from you, though the owner can’t actually prove it because she’s lost her receipt. She’d say the dog ate it, if it didn’t sound so lame, though in this case there is a dog and he’s not always the best behaved, so it could very well be the truth.’

  Was that a twitch of his lips? She couldn’t be sure and staring at them any longer wasn’t a good idea, not if she didn’t want to get tongue-tied, because they had one heck of a sensuous curve to them. Together with the high cheekbones, the deep-set eyes, the short cropped dark hair … yep, it was quite a face.

  She watched as he pushed some buttons on the till. Then swore and pushed some more. ‘You look like me on a pinball machine. Next you’ll be kicking it.’

  He gave her a mild look. ‘I’m aiming for a less aggressive approach.’

  ‘Well, as long as you know the right buttons to press…’

  He shook his head, emitting a sharp laugh. ‘Not always a strong point.’ Finally the till drawer opened and he’d just plucked a ten-pound note out with those long, tapered fingers when he hesitated. ‘Are you about to tell me you wanted the refund on your card?’

  She was in serious danger of laughing. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

  He carefully pla
ced the note and some coins onto the counter. ‘That’s how I like my customers, scared.’

  Lottie couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not. ‘Well, thanks for, you know, the decent refund policy.’ The bell on the door jingled and she turned to find Heidi strolling in, Gira a few paces behind her. She waved and pointed to the café before turning back to the owner. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’m now going to spend the money on a mug of tea and a giant slice of cake.’

  He nodded, and though he didn’t say anything further, she wondered if the brown in his eyes had warmed, just a fraction.

  Matt watched the blonde with the vivid turquoise top and incredible pale eyes walk over to join her friends. He remembered her from when she’d come into the shop to buy the book, though he hadn’t admitted it for fear of sounding either a) creepy or b) like he had so few customers he remembered them all. He liked to think he wasn’t the former, and business was steady enough that he only remembered customers who were distinctive. Like blondes with curly hair and cool grey eyes that were a stunning contrast to her warm, vibrant smile.

  From his pew at the cash desk, he saw her speak to Amy. Whatever she said, presumably an order for the tea and cake, his sister responded with a shy smile. Amy was about as far removed from a serial killer as it was possible to get. If he was clever enough to write a book longlisted for the Booker prize, he’d have to call it My Sister, Who Won’t Kill a Fly.

 

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