The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

Freya Kennedy

Description

'A lovely escape that leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Just what’s needed at the moment.' #1 bestseller, Jane Fallon
If you can dream it, you can make it come true...

Libby Quinn is sick and tired of being sensible.
After years of slogging her guts out for nothing at a PR company, she finds herself redundant and about to plough every last penny of her savings into refurbishing a ramshackle shop and making her dream of owning her own bookshop become a reality.
She hopes opening 'Once Upon A Book' on Ivy Lane will be the perfect tribute to her beloved grandfather who instilled a love of reading and books in her from an early age.
When her love life and friendships become even more complicated – will Libby have the courage to follow her dreams? Or has she bitten off more than she can chew?

A gorgeous new romantic comedy about taking chances and realising your dreams, perfect for fans of Holly Martin, Christie Barlow and Mhairi McFarlane.

What readers are saying about The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn:

'Uplifting and full of hope, this story is one you can immerse yourself in for a good few hours and come out if it feeling better about the world.'

'This brought a smile to my face in these difficult times, feel good read, great characters and good storyline.'

'I absolutely loved it, truly one of the best books I have read.'

'This is a light, cheerful, quick read.'

'A fun and heartwarming book.'

'This is a gorgeous, uplifting, heart warming read that made a sunny Sunday afternoon all the better.'

'This truly is a beautiful story and easy to give five stars. It reminded me why I love to read, why escaping into the pages of a good book is just what the mind needs every now and again, and of course with a happy ending, I finished this story with a smile and a tear.'

'It was an uplifting, enjoyable read.'

'I loved this book'

'Funny, witty, romantic, uplifting, fabulously fun, great cast of characters and a good storyline. I really enjoyed this one.'

'The perfect antidote to all the doom and gloom that's on the news at the moment'

'The story put a smile on my face & was a beautiful uplifting read.'

'A fun story, and one I found hard to put down. Highly recommend this one, and look forward to reading more by this author.'

'This is more than just romantic fiction it's like a trip down memory lane where you can remember your own childhood.'

'Loved every minute spent with Libby Quinn'

'The plot was so good you didn't want the book to end!'

'Great lighthearted read, each chapters titled after classic books, which is a nice touch. Libby goes on a rollercoaster ride, in her personal life, whilst endeavoring to make their dream reality.'

'What a gorgeous book! I really liked the story and it touched my heart in so many ways.'

Sujets

• Vie de famille
• Parentalité et Éducation des Enfants
• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Books
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Irlanda del Norte
• Entrepreneurship
• Friendship
• Contemporary history
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Romantic Comedy
• General officer
• Ireland
• Parenting
• Woman
• Northern Ireland
• Irish
• Valentine's Day
• The Women
• Stephen Ireland
• Summer
• General
• Holiday
• Contemporary
• Spring
• Romance
• Musique irlandaise
• Fiction
• Irlande du Nord
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 05 mai 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838899035
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE HOPES AND DREAMS OF LIBBY QUINN



FREYA KENNEDY
For the original Grandad Ernie who left us with so many magical memories.
CONTENTS



Prologue

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

Chapter 33

Epilogue


Acknowledgments

More from Freya Kennedy

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
PROLOGUE
TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO

Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Libby who travelled to a hundred different worlds and lived a thousand different lives just by opening the pages of a book and discovering the magic in the pages.
‘There’s no greater gift that you can give someone than a love of reading,’ her grandad, Ernie, had told her.
She blinked up at him as she sat on his lap, the wool of his much loved and worse for wear cardigan scratchy against her bare arms.
‘Where were we with this one?’ he asked her, flicking through the yellowing pages of the latest book he had picked up in the charity shop for her.
He believed that books should be loved. They should look loved and lived in. He loved folded down corners, and broken spines. He loved notes scrawled in the margins. Signs that a book had been pored over, read, devoured.
‘I think,’ Libby said, using her small hands to turn the pages herself, ‘we were just about here…’ She pointed to a page with a fresh fold at the top.
‘I think you might just be right, Libby,’ her grandad laughed, ‘right at the point where Mr and Mrs Twit are about to get their comeuppance!’
Libby felt a swell of excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out what happened next. She couldn’t wait to see the awful Twits with their awful ways come undone.
‘When we’re finished,’ she said, ‘can you tell me one of your stories? From when you were wee?’ Libby may well have loved the stories in these books, but she loved her grandad’s stories just as much.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was thinking we could go to the bookshop and see if we can pick up a new book or two?’
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his stubbly cheek. ‘Can we really?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Can you imagine, Libby, if we owned a bookshop? How amazing would that be? All those books.’
‘I’d never ever leave it, ever,’ she said.
‘No, I don’t think I would either.’ Her grandad smiled. ‘Maybe one day we will. But first let’s find out what happens to the Twits.’
Libby nodded, lay her head against her grandad’s chest and watched his finger move along under the words on the page as he read to her. And the story came to life before her eyes.
1
GREAT EXPECTATIONS

Libby hadn’t slept at all well. A fizz of something – excitement or nerves, or maybe both – had kept her awake most of the night.
She was finally doing it. Chasing her dream. The dream she had shared for years with her beloved grandad. Her heart ached a little when she thought of him, but she knew he wasn’t really gone. He was still beside her. He always would be.
She’d assured herself of that as she reached for her very battered copy of Great Expectations and started to read through it. She could almost hear his voice as she read, remembering the first time he had opened the book – which was already well-loved, its spine broken, pages yellowed – and read it to her. Inviting her into the world of Pip and Estella and the incomparable Miss Havisham.
Nodding to the picture of her grandfather, Ernie, which sat on the dresser of her childhood bedroom, Libby stopped reading long enough to whisper: ‘We’re doing it, Grandad. We’re finally doing it.’
When she eventually put the book down, still much too early for any right-minded person to be getting up, she stepped into the shower and allowed herself to mentally run through the to-do list in her head.
First of all – pick up the keys. That was the most important bit. That was the bit that made her stomach somersault. That was the bit that allowed her to push all and any worries about what she might find when she finally opened the doors to her new property on Ivy Lane aside.
Sure, the shop didn’t look like much now. In fact, it looked, from the outside, as if it might be better to knock it to the ground and start again. But Libby could see past the chipped rendering, the peeling paint in the window frames and the yellowed newspaper lining the inside of the windows of the corner-plot premises. She could even see past the broken downpipe from the upstairs flat, and the overflowing guttering which looked like it housed its own ecosystem. She could close her eyes and imagine what it could be.
As soon as her best friend Jess had called her, telling her the shop she had often dreamed of owning was finally up for auction, Libby had known exactly what she wanted to do with it.
She wanted to do exactly what she had always talked about with her grandad. What they’d always said they’d like to do ‘someday’ but never really thought they could – not when life became more about being sensible than taking risks.
Libby Quinn was tired of being sensible. Of never taking risks. There was a yearning for something more inside her and this was her chance to try and find it. She’d turn the ramshackle shop into her very own slice of heaven – where the heady smell of books would mix with the warm aroma of coffee and cake – and a welcoming atmosphere for everyone who crossed her threshold. She’d create an oasis of calm in this little side street for book lovers just like her.
The timing of Jess’s phone call couldn’t have been better. Libby had been tending Grandad Ernie’s grave and telling him all her news, as she did every week. She’d been asking him for a sign about what to do with her life next, when her phone had buzzed to life.
Tears had pricked at her eyes as Jess spoke, and Libby had felt goosebumps rise on her skin. ‘It’s our shop, Grandad,’ she’d said, once she’d ended the call. ‘The one we said would make the perfect bookshop!’
And it was, it was the very building, replete with original stone fascia and cornicing, wooden framed windows that they had said would be ripe for loving redevelopment. Ivy Lane was coming back to life, thanks to the growth of the nearby university campus but also the increased numbers of visitors flocking to Derry each year to soak up its history and culture.
Grandad Ernie had called it. He’d said it would come into its own and he’d been right. Libby could see that. It mightn’t be just there yet – which had to be a good thing when it came to the price of the shop – but it was well on its way.
And now she had the means, and the drive, to see if she could make it work. The guide price had been comfortably within her means. Well, it would be, Libby had figured, once she sold the terraced house she had bought as soon as she’d been able to scrape together a deposit and had lovingly restored. Added to the generous inheritance Grandad Ernie had left for her, and the redundancy package she’d just received after thirteen years of dutiful service to an insurance company now intent on going digital, she’d realised she stood a chance.
So, she’d wasted no time in getting the house up for sale. Thankfully, the market was in her favour, and in a matter of just days, she had a cash buyer lined up and was making plans to temporarily move back in with her parents.
She’d marked the day of the auction of number 15 Ivy Lane in her calendar and didn’t allow herself to think too much about what would happen if she was outbid. She had to believe it was meant to be hers.
She’d half expected her parents to tell her she had lost her mind. But they hadn’t. ‘Well, I think that’s just perfect,’ her father had said, growing misty-eyed as she outlined her plans for the shop. ‘It’s exactly what Grandad would have wanted for you.’
He’d reached his hand over to hers and given it a squeeze, while her mother had dabbed at her eyes with a tea towel. They were both still grieving themselves, Libby knew. Grandad Ernie had lived in the Quinn house for thirty of her thirty-four years, her dad intent on making sure his father never wanted for anything, most of all company.
‘I wish we’d done this when he was still here,’ her dad had said, and she’d watched her mother lay a hand on her husband’s shoulder to comfort him.
‘Now, Jim. Come on. We’ve always said things happen when they’re meant to happen. Let’s just focus on how happy the old fart will be, sitting up there watching our Libby chase her dreams!’
Although Linda Quinn had a selection of choice descriptions for her late father-in-law, there was a genuine affection in her voice when she spoke of him.
‘It will be hard work, mind,’ Linda had told her only daughter. ‘You’ll have to get those hands of yours dirty.’
‘Sure, I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty, Mum,’ Libby had quipped. ‘Didn’t I take on that house and get stuck in?’
‘I’ve a feeling, love, this shop of yours will be a bigger job than that house. And I’ll imagine you’ll want to turn it around quicker than you did that house too.’
‘She’ll have me and the boys to help her,’ Jim had said. ‘And I know you can be handy with a mop and bucket too, Linda.’
‘No rest for the wicked,’ her mother had said, rolling her eyes, but Libby had spotted the warmth in her father’s expression when he’d turned to his wife and reminded her: ‘And even less for the good.’
Now, in the shower, however, Libby was starting to panic about just what might lie behind the peeling paint and cracked render of number 15 Ivy Lane.
She took a deep breath. The stars had aligned to get her to this point, she reminded herself. She just hoped they were up for an extra bit of ali