Chloe Charlesworth has had the week from hell. Not only did she have her dream job as a fashion journalist, snatched away from her, then her aunt breaks her leg. So, Chloe leaves London on a mercy dash to Rum Cove in North Yorkshire to help run her aunt’s businesses, the Contraband Café and trekking centre. Chloe imagines she will be simply popping in to check that her aunt has the right help, but when she accidentally poisons her aunt’s horses and argues with the local vet, she feels obligated to help out with the numerous Rum Cove’s Christmas events, which all centre around the Contraband Café. But, Chloe is desperate to get back to London, move in with her boyfriend, Marcus, and find another journalism job, the only trouble being that he doesn’t seem too keen on the idea.
Rum Cove, an old fishing village, is undeniably beautiful and the locals very friendly, except for the local vet Luke, who is appallingly rude and arrogant. Thankfully Marcus decides to visit and Chloe soon realises that she has some serious decisions to make. A sparkling, Christmas romance.
Here is an extract from the book;
‘The Contraband Café was situated about halfway up a narrow, cobbled street which led down to the bay. As they walked, the scent of the sea was unmistakable along with the sound of seagulls shrieking overhead. Although it was a grey December day and freezing, the main street in Rum Cove looked so quaint that Chloe felt a rush of anticipation. The beach shops, ice cream parlours and Bed and Breakfasts were all closed out of season, but the street was beautifully maintained and Chloe found herself longing to press her nose up against the shop windows and look inside. There was a small grocer’s shop, Post Office and bakery that were open all year round and a chandlery selling fishing and sailing equipment, such as lobster pots and nets for fishermen, whose boats were bobbing up and down in the harbour. Set high on a rocky outpost was The Spyglass Inn, a fabulous imposing stone building. Chloe felt that she was transported back in time as she noticed the little stone passageways which led off the cobbled street. She could almost imagine the sailors, pirates and smugglers who must have lived here. About halfway down the Contraband Cafe’s sign swung slowly in the breeze, showing a pair of swarthy pirate types with long black boots, rolling barrels of liquor, presumably rum, to their secret hiding place.
‘Here we are.’ Lottie expertly unlocked the café door and led Chloe inside. The café was decorated with bunting, mismatched old chairs and tables set with gingham tablecloths and mismatched old crockery. The walls were adorned with photos of Rum Cove from a bygone age and the mullioned windows and beams were clearly authentic. There was a box of Christmas decorations waiting to be put up and even a shiny stainless steel coffee machine behind the counter. Chloe nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a dark swashbuckling figure wearing breeches, boots, a huge overcoat and tricorn hat in one corner.’