Meet Me at Beachcomber Bay + Giveaway
Title: Meet Me at Beachcomber Bay
Author: Jill Mansell
Pub Date: May 2, 2017
International bestseller Jill Mansell
weaves a heartwarming tale of love, family and friendship in her latest novel
1. A brief
encounter that could have become so much more…if only everything were different
2. Step-sisters,
bitter rivals in every area except one—by unbreakable pact neither will ever
steal a man from the other
3. A love
triangle that starts out as a mess of secrets and mix-ups, and only gets worse
from there
Plus!
Friendship,
family ties, crossed wires and self-discovery, second chances and first
impressions
Welcome to Jill Mansell’s blustery seaside
world. Once you step inside, you’ll never want to leave!
With over 10
million copies sold, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill
Mansell writes irresistible and funny, poignant and romantic tales for women in
the tradition of Marian Keyes, Sophie Kinsella and Jojo Moyes. She lives with
her partner and their children in Bristol, England.
EXCERPT
With her
bags and the bunch of lilies resting beside her, she wrapped her arms around
her knees and surveyed the shoreline of Beachcomber Bay. The tide was receding,
and small children with buckets and spades were excitedly searching the clean
wet sand for uncovered shells, fascinating pebbles and comical crabs. Two dogs,
a golden retriever and a mink-gray whippet, were bounding around together in
the shallows.
OK, back to
Ronan and Clemency. Well, well, when had this happened? Had they been hiding it from her last Friday evening at
the Mermaid?
And if so,
how much longer had they been planning on keeping it a secret?
Plus, how
was it making her feel?
This was a
tricky one to sort out. Did she feel jealous?
Yes.
Did she have
the right to feel jealous? Probably not, but it didn’t make any difference; the
emotions were the same either way. Once you had that sibling rivalry thing
ingrained in you, it was hard to let it go.
Belle puffed
a strand of hair out of her eyes, keeping her arms clasped around her knees in
order to hold her skirt in place and remain decent. It was one of those weird
beach-etiquette things; if you were wearing a tiny bikini, fine. But if you
happened to be dressed in a collared shirt and stripy knee-length skirt, you
wouldn’t dream of flashing your knickers. Even if they were super-expensive
pink silk ones from La Perla.
The dogs
were chasing after a ball now, barking with excitement as they cavorted through
the waves. A toddler, his face splashed by their antics, let out a wail of
protest. An athletic-looking young woman in a slate-gray bikini skipped and
swerved to avoid the two dogs as she ran along the shoreline. Seconds later,
she passed a group of teenage boys, one of whom wolf-whistled in youthful
appreciation. The young woman ignored the whistle and jogged past them, her
blond ponytail bouncing jauntily with each step.
Belle closed
her eyes and pictured Ronan the first time she’d ever seen him. It had been
soon after he’d moved to St. Carys in order to take up his new job with Gavin
Barton. Word had spread rapidly around town, of course it had, that the new
arrival was a twenty-four-year-old with looks, charisma, and a decided way with
the ladies. Belle, however, had assumed he wouldn’t be her type; apart from
anything else, he was from a working-class background, and why on earth would
she be interested in a boy like that?
Until she’d
seen him for the first time a week later, playing a game of pool at the
Mermaid, and against all odds her interest had been piqued, because he was
pretty and he exuded fun and sometimes your brain chose not to care about
working-class backgrounds and simply thought: Ooh, he’s nice.
Which had
been embarrassing in one way and confusing in another. But at the same time it
had been a complete thrill. A fresh challenge was always good.
As an
attractive twenty-one-year-old from a wealthy family, Belle had been accustomed
to getting any boy she wanted. She’d expected to get Ronan. But it had never
happened, which had been both puzzling and annoying. For some reason he hadn’t
been interested in her. Which had naturally had the effect of keeping her
interested in him.
Belle knew
perfectly well that if they’d gone out together for a few weeks, the novelty
would have worn off and they’d have drifted apart—because that had been the
recurring pattern of her relationships up until then. But it hadn’t had a
chance to happen, which was why the weird crush had continued unabated. She’d
never had the opportunity to get it out of her system.
And now
this.
Taking out her phone, she texted Clemency.
Where are you?
As soon as
the text had been sent, she was overcome with impatience and scrambled to her
feet. Collecting up her bags, her discarded shoes and the bunch of lilies in
their tissue paper wrapping, she dusted the sand off her palms and made her way
back up the beach to the stone steps that led to the Esplanade. It was only
five minutes from here to the real estate agency, so she may as well head over
there now.
The text
arrived less than thirty seconds later, and she stopped in her tracks, fumbling
for the phone she’d tucked into the narrow side pocket of her handbag. In the
struggle to reach it, the bag’s leather strap slid off her shoulder and the
expensive calla lilies slithered sideways, causing her to double over in order
to catch them before they landed headfirst in the soft, dry—
Woomph! Something thudded into
Belle’s side, knocking her off balance and sending her crashing to the ground.
She let out a shriek of alarm, the lilies went flying, and so did her shoes as
she sprawled on the sand. For a split second she thought it was a mugger, about
to make off with her bag and everything in it.
“Oh God, I’m
sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you OK?”
It wasn’t a
mugger. It was the girl in the slate-gray bikini, who’d careered straight into
her. Mortified at how idiotic she must look, Belle said furiously, “Well,
that’s the stupidest question I ever heard. Do I look as if I’m OK?”
“I meant are
you hurt?”
Was everyone
watching? Were they all laughing at her? Belle stumbled clumsily to her feet,
shrinking away as the girl reached out to try and help her up. “I’m not hurt.”
“Oh, thank
goodness. Sorry again. It was all my fault.” Belle glanced at her in disbelief,
because of course it was all her fault. Who else could possibly be to blame?
“I was
timing myself, you see.” The girl tapped a gadget on her left wrist. “Trying to
beat my record. It’s harder to run on soft sand, so I checked the coast was
clear, then put my head down and just went for it.”
“You didn’t
see me at all?” Still furious, Belle
dusted sand off her skirt then watched as the girl hastily retrieved her
scattered bags and handed them back to her.
“Of course I
saw you, but I thought you were heading for the steps. I thought you’d be long
gone by the time I reached this bit; I didn’t know you were going to stop
dead…but of course, I should have been looking where I was going. I’m an
idiot.” As she handed over the lilies, the girl fixed her steady light-blue
gaze on Belle. “I’m really sorry.”
Belle looked
away first and gave the kind of angular, dismissive shrug that signaled their
unwelcome encounter was at an end. “OK. Bye.”
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