Sunshine Over Bluebell Cliff

Della Galton

Description

'Utterly uplifting, pure escapism - a perfect summer read' Trisha Ashley, bestselling author

Bluebell Cliff Hotel is a place to make your dreams come true...

Clara King is left in sole charge of a fabulous new clifftop hotel for the summer.
The owner has barely left the country when Clara realises that someone is hell-bent on putting the Bluebell Cliff Hotel out of business.
It becomes a race against time to hunt down the sneaky saboteur before they succeed in bringing the hotel to its knees.
With her dream job under threat and her personal life in chaos, Clara discovers that, when what you love the most is in danger, it can bring out the very best in you.

What readers are saying about Sunshine Over Bluebell Cliff:

'This book got everything absolutely right for me – an excellent light and heartwarming read, recommended to anyone who might enjoy a well-written escape from life’s current realities.'

'This has got to be my favourite romance read of the year so far.'

'I absolutely adored this book'

'This is a book you don't want to miss. I devoured this book in one sitting and it's one I'll definitely be recommending my friends to read too!'

'Simply brilliant.'

'Uplifting, funny, romantic and charming.'

'The perfect escapist read.'

'A delightful romantic comedy!'

'I absolutely adored this book.'

Sujets

• Hotels
• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Holidays
• Alternative Family
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Inglaterra
• Friendship
• Contemporary history
• Dating
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Romantic Comedy
• General officer
• Mother's Day
• Woman
• Food
• Valentine's Day
• The Women
• Great Britain
• Summer
• General
• Holiday
• Feed
• Contemporary
• Topic
• Hotel
• Romance
• England
• Dorset
• Fiction
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 28 avril 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838890032
• Langue: English

Extrait

SUNSHINE OVER BLUEBELL CLIFF


DELLA GALTON
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

Epilogue


More from Della Galton

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Della Galton

Love Notes

About Boldwood Books
For Gord, AKA ‘Mr one letter out’.
1

Clara King was driving through the Isle of Purbeck on a gorgeous June morning on her way to work when her phone on the passenger seat beside her beeped with a message. The bluetooth in her car didn’t allow texts through when she was driving and so she didn’t take much notice.
Ahead of her, the ruins of Corfe Castle, perched high on one of the surrounding hills, had just come suddenly into view, rising up above the little town of Corfe that nestled below it.
Even though Clara passed it every single morning, it was a sight that never failed to take her breath away. Today, the jutting pillars of grey Purbeck stone were silhouetted starkly against the clear blue summer sky. The eleventh-century castle, built by William The Conqueror, was impressive, even in ruins. It was a huge tourist attraction, now owned by the National Trust, and its more intrepid visitors climbed up the gravel path to the summit to wander around and imagine old ghosts inside its ancient walls.
Clara had once taken a more unorthodox route to the top, straight up one of the castle’s almost vertical grassy sides. It had been dark and she’d been wearing three-inch heels, having just spent the evening at the pub with a group of catering-college friends. She couldn’t remember which of them had suggested a night-time visit to the castle, but it had seemed like a good idea after several glasses of wine. She was amazed she hadn’t broken her neck, or at least a heel. But that was the kind of mad thing you did when you were young and trying to prove to your new ‘into anything’ boyfriend that you were up for an adventure.
She was thirty-four now and newly single – although not from him, no, that particular relationship had fizzled out faster than a summer firework over the sea – and much more responsible. She had just landed her dream job as Manager of the Bluebell Cliff, a fabulous hotel, perched on Dorset’s stunning coastline, which was where she was heading right now.
Ten minutes later, she drew up in its gravel car park, turned off the ignition and picked up her phone.
The message was from her boss, Kate Rawlinson. It said:


Morning C, I need to talk to you urgently. Come straight into my office when you arrive.
Kate was the most laid-back of bosses. What on earth had she done to warrant being summoned? Suddenly all of the sunshine flew from the day and Clara’s palms felt sweaty as she clicked the remote control to lock up her poppy-red Mini Cooper.
As she reached the low wall that separated the parking from the lawns that enclosed three sides of the hotel, she gulped in a lungful of fresh sea air mixed with the scent of roses and lavender that grew in the hotel gardens. Above her head, a lone seagull soared on the breeze.
But despite the beauty of her surroundings, Clara’s stomach crunched with nerves. She racked her brains. Had she done something wrong? She walked apprehensively towards the staff entrance.
The Bluebell Cliff, affectionately called The Bluebell by its staff, had been named after the locally renowned bluebell woods, alongside which it stood. It perched on a headland overlooking the English Channel with Studland Bay on one side and Anvil Point on the other.
The hotel itself was a long, low, white painted art deco-style building with a flat roof, which had stood there since the thirties. It had gone through various transformations, but the most recent had been a huge refurbishment the previous year, headed up by Kate, who also owned it. It had opened for business at Christmas.
Kate had been acting manager ever since but had employed Clara to take over the role three months ago. She was just coming up to the end of her probationary period. Clara loved the job and she had worked her socks off, which was why she was so nervous now.
She walked through the foyer, which smelled sweetly of vanilla air freshener. Zoe Wilkins, the bubbly young blonde receptionist, was dealing with a guest, so she couldn’t sound her out. Breakfast noise and the smell of bacon and coffee filtered through from the restaurant. All seemed normal.
The door of the manager’s office was closed. Should she knock?
Yes, perhaps today she should. Just the one knock to show respect. She did this, and then stepped inside. Kate was on the phone, but she gestured Clara towards a chair with her hand.
Kate’s dog, Foxy, so named because she looked like a fox, with her pointy ears and sharp snout and smooth reddish brown fur, was curled up in her basket. She gave Clara a sleepy wag but didn’t get up. Clara bent to pet one of her soft ears before sitting down.
This room was big enough for two modern desks and two office chairs on wheels and some filing cabinets and a cupboard where they kept brochures and other paperwork. It was a mixture of old and new with the beautiful decorative cornice running around its high ceilings and a big bay window that overlooked the lawns. Usually this room buzzed with Kate’s energy. She was a workaholic, which was something she and Clara had in common. But at the moment all Clara could feel was tension.
She tried to read Kate’s body language. She was talking to a guest by the sound of it. She looked tired. There were shadows beneath her eyes. Kate was thirty-three and her usual demeanour was one of organised calm. Nothing ever seemed to faze her, but today she was definitely stressed.
‘Don’t worry, sir. That will all be in place before you arrive. Leave it to us. It’s our job. Thanks. You too, sir.’ She finally put down the phone. ‘Good grief, some people are pedantic. Clara, hi. Thanks for coming in so promptly. You got my message?’
‘I did.’ Clara waited.
‘Don’t look so worried. It’s not bad news. Well, it kind of is, but for me, not for you. I’m not explaining myself very well. Sorry.’ She rested her elbows on the desk in front of her. ‘I’ll start at the beginning. Last night, I had a traumatic phone call from my mother. She lives with my stepfather and – well, to cut a long story short – they’re getting divorced. It’s messy. He’s a lawyer. Mum is in bits and there’s no one to help her but me.’
Clara nodded, feeling slightly bemused that her employer was sharing such a confidence.
‘I expect you’re wondering what any of this has to do with you?’ Kate’s worried eyes met hers. ‘The thing is, they live in Australia. Adelaide in Southern Australia to be precise and I need to go out there. I can’t be any help at all from here. I realised that last night. Mum’s desperate. And I know you’ve only been here three months and your feet have barely touched the ground, but I need someone I can trust to look after this place.’
Clara felt a thump of shock. ‘You mean the hotel?’
‘Yes. I know it’s a huge ask.’ Kate rubbed her eyes distractedly. ‘But I can’t help Mum from England. I need to be out there by her side. And I’m totally torn. It’s the worst possible timing. We’re barely established and, as you know, this place is my baby. It was my Aunt Carrie’s dream.’
Her eyes flicked towards the portrait of an elegant, rather beautiful woman sitting at a grand piano, that had pride of place on the wall of the office. Caroline Rawlinson had been a world-renowned concert pianist and had made her fortune composing and doing recitals in England and the US. She had been both the brains and the financier behind the Bluebell. The hotel had been her retirement project. Her swansong.
Kate had told Clara the story the first time they had met. Tragically, Caroline had died in a car accident on her last ever tour and Kate, who was a builder cum project manager and already involved in the refurbishment, had inherited the hotel and had made it her mission to complete her Aunt Carrie’s dream.
‘This place was what she worked for all her life,’ Kate was saying. ‘She entrusted it to me for safekeeping because she knew I felt as passionately about it as she did.’ She stopped talking as abruptly as she had begun. ‘Hell, I’m not sure I’m making any sense. I’ve been up half the night worrying about it.’
No wonder she looked tired. Clara felt a tug of empathy. Family break-ups stirred up all sorts of horrible emotions. Helplessness and frustration to name but two. She’d had enough personal experience of family break-ups of her own in the last few months.
‘It would mean that you’d be in sole charge of running the place. You don’t have to decide straight away,’ Kate offered. ‘I’ll get Zoe to bring us some coffee.’ She half rose from the chair.
‘When are you thinking of flying and how long do you think you’ll be away?’ Clara asked.
‘As soon as I can get a flight and, I’m not sure yet, but, realistically, I’d need to be away for at least three weeks. I don’t know how long it’s all going to take.’
‘It’s fine,’ Clara heard herself saying in a voice that was a great deal calmer than she felt. ‘I’d be happy to help.’ What was she doing? It was one of her life rules never to make split-second decisions.
But it was too late. Kate was already looking at her hopefully.
‘Really? Are you sure?’ She sat back down again. ‘I’ll need to get someone to look after Foxy too. I was about to phone the kennels when Zoe put that customer through.’
‘She’ll hate kennels,’ Clara said, wishing she’d edited the words before they’d come out of her mouth because Kate looked wo