by Lynsey James
Emily Reed is having a bad day.
Her mother has just dropped a devastating bombshell – the dad she’s known and loved for twenty-five years isn’t her biological father!
Desperately in need of answers, Emily heads to Luna Bay, covering her personal quest up as a work trip to Sunflower Cottage B&B.
Setting up the ‘Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club’ should be a great way to meet the locals and maybe even find out who her father is. The only problem is brooding and insanely gorgeous Noah, who is determined to make Emily’s stay perfectly uncomfortable.
Discovering the truth after all these years was never going to be simple, but Emily will stop at nothing to uncover her past… even if her heart is getting in the way!
Praise for LYNSEY JAMES
‘If you can’t wait for a little more warmth this summer, get reading Just the Way You Are, and you’ll have all the sunshine you need.’ – Lisa Dickenson, author of The Twelve Dates of Christmas, You Had Me at Merlot and Catch Me If You Cannes
‘The Broken Hearts Book Club is perfect for these colder, darker nights – it’s like a big warm comfort blanket in book form!’ – Rather Too Fond of Books
‘I adored this book. From the gorgeous setting of Luna Bay to the highly likable protagonist, The Broken Hearts Book Club was a total treat.’ – Blabbering About Books
‘...I loved that Lynsey made me so invested in the characters – not just Ava, all of them. They all have their quirks and their flaws; they made me laugh, they made me cry and they made me want to scream at my Kindle. That marks the sign of fantastically real characters.’ – Jenny in Neverland on Just the Way You Are
‘Dreamy and delightful!’ – Chicks That Read on Just the Way You Are
‘If you’re a fan of romance or a chick-lit addict... then I urge you to give this book a go. It’s warm, clever, sweet and an absolute delight.’ – Bookaholic Holly on Just the Way You Are
Books by Lynsey James
Just the Way You Are
The Luna Bay series:
The Broken Hearts Book Club
The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club
The Silver Bells Christmas Pantomime
The Sunflower Cottage Breakfast Club
Lynsey James
www.CarinaUK.com
LYNSEY JAMES
I was born in Fife in 1991 and have been telling people how to spell my name ever since. I’m an incurable bookworm who loves nothing more than getting lost in a good story with memorable characters. I started writing when I was really young and credit my lovely grandad – and possibly a bump on the head from a Mr Frosty machine – with my love of telling stories. I used to write my own episodes of Friends and act them out in front of my family (in fact I’m sure I put Ross and Rachel together first!).
A careers adviser at school once told me writing wasn’t a ‘good option’ and, for a few years, I believed her. I tried a little bit of everything, including make-up artistry, teaching and doing admin for a chocolate fountain company. The free chocolate was brilliant. When I left my job a couple of years ago, I started writing full-time while I looked for another one. As soon as I started working on my story, I fell in love and decided to finally pursue my dream. I haven’t looked back since.
When I’m not writing, eating cake or drinking tea, I’m daydreaming about the day Dylan O’Brien finally realises we’re meant to be together. It’ll happen one day…
Acknowledgements
This book and the ones before it wouldn’t have been possible without the amazing community of writers and bloggers I’m privileged to be a part of. To list all of them would take about a year and fifteen books’ worth of space, so here are a few: Daniel Riding, Beth O’Brien, Erin McEwan, Holly Martin, Laura Lovelock, Silke Auwers, Louise Wykes and Laura Holdsworth. Thanks to everyone for all your support, it means the world to me.
Ann Troup, thank you for teaching me about dodgy toasters and exploding food.
Can’t do a set of acknowledgements without mentioning my wonderful family. Mum, Dad, Kyle and Gran: I love you guys more than I’ll ever be able to tell you. I hope I’ve made you guys proud.
Dixie, I love you so much I’ve made you a character in this book. Even though you frequently made me stop writing to play with you or cuddle you!
Jen, you are the best friend I could ask for. I love you and your princess hair.
Thank you to my amazing editor, Victoria. You really are fantastic. Without you, I wouldn’t be writing these acknowledgements now.
To all the team at Carina, THANK YOU. You’re absolutely amazing and have made my dreams come true. Thank you so, so much.
To Granddad, the world’s best storyteller.
None of this would be possible without you.
Contents
Cover
Blurb
Praise
Book List
Title Page
Author Bio
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Excerpt
Endpages
Copyright
Chapter 1
It’s coming together. I can feel it.
There was something in his voice, a little nuance that told me I was moments away from success. Excitement began to build within me and I felt a million tiny butterflies release themselves into my tummy. This is it, I thought. This is the big moment. The one I’ve been waiting for.
‘I promise you, Mr Woodward; you won’t regret becoming part of Walter Marshall Hotels. We’re a trusted, reputable brand and, under our name, you can expect to see a significant increase in both visitor numbers and yearly profits. You’ve seen the numbers for yourself; you know it makes sense.’
As Mr Woodward repeated his numerous concerns about becoming part of a ‘faceless corporate machine’, I shifted my chair from side to side and drank the remains of my green smoothie. My face burst into a smile as the combination of kale, spinach, water and avocado hit my taste buds. There was no better way to start the day, in my opinion. I’d never been able to stomach a full breakfast; I preferred something quick to kick-start my busy mornings.
After listening to my prospective client’s worries and gripes, I knew exactly what to say to ease his mind. I’d dealt with a million owners like him; it was almost second nature to me.
‘Don’t think of it as becoming part of a faceless corporate machine,’ I said in soothing tones. ‘Think of it as joining a big, happy family who are ready to welcome you with open arms. You’re worried about your guesthouse losing its charm and I understand that, but I can assure you that won’t happen. While we do like to make some improvements to our establishments, we’ll do everything in partnership with you. Mulberry House will still have its charm and character because that’s the way you have made it.
All you’ll be getting from us is the chance to be part of our established, reputable brand. If you join us, you’ll be able to really put Mulberry House on the map. What do you say, Mr Woodward? Are you ready to take the chance?’
There was a little pause and, for a moment, I worried I’d overdone it. By the end, I did sound like an eighties aerobics instructor. I swallowed hard and chewed my thumbnail. Please, please let this happen…
‘OK, Emily, you’ve got yourself a deal! Send me over the contracts and I’ll sign them.’
‘Excellent!’ I had to stop myself from dropping the phone and doing a happy dance. ‘Welcome to Walter Marshall Hotels, Mr Woodward.’
We said our goodbyes and I hung up. A feeling of elation hit me like a thunderbolt and I threw my hands up in the air in celebration. I hadn’t just closed another deal, you see; I’d closed the deal. This was the one that would change everything, or so I hoped.
‘Someone looks happy!’ My best friend, Frankie, perched herself on my desk. ‘What’s the occasion?’
‘Just clinched the Mulberry House deal!’ I reached up and high-fived her. ‘Three months it’s taken me to persuade the owner to join and he’s just agreed! I’m sending him over the contracts now.’
‘Nice one!’ Frankie grinned and reached into her bag. ‘This calls for a celebration. How about we go to breakfast at that little café down the road? I could do with a fry-up!’
I shook my head and got out of my seat. My best friend was one of those impossibly skinny people who ate what she liked and never exercised. I’d found myself picking away at a Caesar salad while she wolfed down a cheeseburger and chips, wondering how the hell she managed it, on many occasions.
‘Nah, no thanks; I don’t really like breakfast. We can go for lunch later if you like?’
She shook her head and plonked herself down in my now vacant chair. ‘How can you not like breakfast? It’s the best meal of the day!’
‘Breakfast is just a load of stodgy food that slows you down of a morning. Give me a green smoothie any day.’
The thought of a plate piled high with greasy fried food popped into my mind and I wanted to gag. It was the food equivalent of my worst nightmare. I’d rather do the eating trial from I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here than force down a fry-up.
‘You absolute freak. Remind me again why we’re best friends?’ Frankie stuck her tongue out at me.
‘Because I have way too many incriminating photos of you after one cocktail too many,’ I shot back. ‘Anyway, I’ve barely got time to think this week, let alone have breakfast. I’ve got clients to wine and dine, after all. I’m taking one to that Jack Vettriano exhibition at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and going to one of those open-air concerts on Glasgow Green with another.’
‘You’re such a bloody culture vulture, aren’t you? Give me a night in The Garage and a greasy kebab any day of the week. Cities were made for people like you,’ Frankie replied with a smile.
‘What can I say, I’m a city slicker! Anyway, I’d better go and tell Paul that Mulberry House is in the bag. Hopefully now the promotion will be too.’
Frankie gave me a thumbs-up. ‘Good luck!’
As I strode towards my boss’s office, I couldn’t help but feel excited. This was the start of something amazing. The next phase of my life was about to begin and I couldn’t wait.
*
Or not.
As I shared my amazing news, Paul sat back in his chair and winced like he was in a lot of pain. There was a lot of sucking in through his teeth, head tilts and grimaces.
‘The thing is, Emily…’ He paused and stared around the room, trying to decide what the next words out of his mouth would be. ‘Tara’s kind of beaten you to the punch.’
My blood instantly began to boil and I wondered if steam was about to come out of my ears like in a cartoon. This was supposed to be the best moment of my life and my biggest rival had gone and pulled the rug from underneath me. Tara bloody Murray.
‘She’s what? But you said if I could get Mulberry House in the bag, the promotion was mine! What happened?’ I was all too aware how shrill my voice had gone, but I didn’t care. I was too busy trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill out at any moment.
Paul shrugged and I was seriously tempted to punch him in the face. ‘She came in about five minutes before you did, and told me she’d landed the Ashbury Hotel. It’s a massive coup for us and I’ve decided to give her the promotion.’
No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. I wracked my brains, searching for a way to keep my dream of being Emily Reed, Executive of Business Development, alive and kicking. There had to be a way, there just had to be…
‘Come on, Paul,’ I pleaded, ‘you know how hard I’ve worked for this! I’ve closed way more deals than Tara; just look at my figures! I just got Mr bloody Woodward, our most difficult owner yet, to become part of our chain. That’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?’
I looked into my boss’s deep-brown eyes and could tell he was wavering. He pursed his lips and rested his chin on steepled fingers.
‘I like you, Emily, you know I do. You’d be a great business development executive; there’s no doubt about it. And you’re right: Tara’s numbers aren’t nearly as impressive as yours…’
He trailed off, leaving me in suspense for a very long minute. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my brow as I waited for his verdict. My heartbeat thundered in my ears and I dug my nails into my palms. My whole life was hanging on the next few seconds and I could barely handle the suspense.
‘Leave it with me,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ll have a think about it and call you both into the office later.’
I let out the breath I’d been holding in and struggled not to let a stream of expletives follow it. Instead, I plastered a fake smile on my face, thanked Paul for his time and left. Although it may not have turned out exactly as I wanted, it wasn’t over yet. The dream was still alive.
*
My plans for lunch with Frankie were ruined by a text from my mother. She wanted to meet for what she called ‘an inspirational pep talk’ and wouldn’t take no for answer. Apparently she also had something important to tell me. There was nothing inspirational or peppy about these meetings. In reality, it was an hour of her telling me all the ways I was going wrong in life while we ate expensive food.
Today’s venue of choice was Café Rose, a lovely little place just off Sauchiehall Street. I loved living in Glasgow; it was so pretty and vibrant and the people were bloody amazing. I’d been lucky enough to call it home for the past twenty-five years and I didn’t plan on budging any time soon.
I walked in and my mother was instantly recognisable. She was as glamorous as always, clad in a fitted navy Mac and black skinny jeans. Round her neck was a gorgeous printed scarf with little owls on it and her hair was effortlessly styled into a shiny bob. As soon as she saw me, she got up and greeted me with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Whatever she had to tell me wouldn’t be good, I suspected.
‘Lovely to see you, hen!’ She enveloped me in a hug and squeezed me so tightly I could hardly breathe.
‘You too,’ I replied when she let me go. ‘Have you ordered yet?’
She shook her head and we sat down, each picking up a menu to study. I saw her peeking over hers to look at me, but her eyes darted away when I looked back.
‘Have you done something with your hair?’ she asked.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Nope, why?’
She looked at me for a second, tilted her head and squinted. ‘Hmm, maybe you should then.’
Blimey, she’s started early. Usually, we’d at least ordered our drinks before she started finding fault with me.
‘Anyway, let’s talk about that promotion you’re up for,’ she continued. ‘This is the big one, Emily; land this one and you’ll be one of the directors by the time you’re thirty. Have they said anything to you about it?’
I shook my head, deciding to hold off mentioning
the fact that Tara was also in the frame. Reaching my goals and meeting people’s expectations was what I ‘did’. Any hint that I might not be successful just wouldn’t wash with my mum. I always had my eyes on a prize of some kind: a job, a flat, a car. Achieving had been drilled into me for as long as I could remember; second place wasn’t an option.
‘Not yet. Paul said I’d hear back today, though.’
‘Excellent! You’ll get it, darling. I’ve got every faith in you. You’re one of life’s high-flyers. You really should stop wearing those awful jackets with the shoulder pads, though. They make you look so… sharp and shoulder pads died a death in the eighties. What about a nice flowery dress or a pair of jeans instead?’
I sighed and gritted my teeth. ‘Or I could just turn up to work wearing my Cookie Monster onesie and unicorn slippers?’
‘I’m just saying there’s no need to look so corporate, that’s all.’ She picked up my hand to inspect my nails. ‘Oh, Emily, when was the last time you got a manicure? These are terrible!’
My blood began to boil and I could feel my already thin patience beginning to fray even more. Although I knew my mum meant well, the constant stream of advice could be a little hard to stomach. I did my best to take it in the spirit it was intended and tried to attract the attention of a passing waiter. The only thing that would make this situation better was eating then leaving as quickly as possible. However, he passed me by without a second glance.
‘Excuse me!’ My mum put her hand up and another staff member came right over to take our orders. That was the thing with my mum: she had an air about her that commanded respect.
‘I’ll have the loaded potato skins to start and… What about you, Em? What do you fancy?’
I glanced down at the menu one last time. ‘Just a garden salad for me. I’m not that hungry.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mum scowl and she told the waitress to bring a bowl of chips and some mozzarella sticks too. The girl took off before I could amend my order and a few minutes later our food arrived at the table.
