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Sunday, June 18, 2017




One summer they’ll never forget…
Meet Sabine, desperately fighting to save her little kiosk from closure whilst turning down her friend Owen’s proposals, time and time again.
Cue Harriet, returning to Dartmouth after thirty years, haunted by the scandal that drove her away and shocked by a legacy that threatens her relationship with her journalist daughter.
Enter Rachel, the mysterious newcomer who has an unexpected chemistry with a local widower, and who sets in motion a chain of events she could never have predicted…
One thing’s for sure, as the autumn tide turns, there’ll be more than one secret laid bare!


where Sabine meets BB for the first time:
She glanced at a tourist studying the sailing timetable.
‘Can I book a ticket for this afternoon’s trip?’ he asked, his accent marking him as American.
‘Of course.’
‘Great little town you’ve got here,’ he said, as Sabine took his money and handed him a ticket.
‘Your first visit?’
‘Yeah, hoping to unearth some relatives,’ he said with a grin. ‘Grandmother was a GI bride way back in ’44. She kinda lost touch with folks here when she left. Family name was Holdsworth. Don’t suppose it’s yours? Know anyone of that name?’
Sabine laughed. ‘Well-connected ancestors you’ve got with that name, that’s for sure. No, it’s not mine. And as this isn’t small-town America, I don’t know everyone, but I don’t think there are any Holdsworths currently living in town.’
‘You mean there’s no longer a Governor Holdsworth in charge out at the castle? I was hoping for an invite to stay there.’
‘You wouldn’t be very comfortable if you did  – Windsor Castle it’s not.’
‘Shame. Good job I booked into The Royal for a week or two then. See you later.’
By the time Sabine helped Owen and Peter to cast off that afternoon, the boat was three quarters full and she watched it depart, pleased the first of the season’s sailings was so full.
As the Queen of the River began to make its way upstream, Sabine started to close up the kiosk. Life for the next few months would be ruled by the tide table and the need to open the kiosk every day to take advance bookings. Today, though, it was early enough in the season, with few people around, she could close up and go home for an hour or two before the boat returned and she had to be on hand to help the passengers disembark.
A chilly March breeze was blowing off the river and Sabine was glad of her fleece as she made for her cottage halfway up Crowthers Hill, one of the old roads leading out of town into the back country.
The house in Above Town she and Dave had bought together as a newly married couple had been too full of memories for both her and Peter to stay there happily without Dave. Far better to have a new start in a different house – one that she and Peter and could build into a home, so twelve years ago she’d bought the cottage when Dave’s insurance money had eventually turned up.
Johnnie and Annie helped with getting the place habitable – it had been empty for two years and took weeks of hard work from the three of them to make it habitable – and she and Peter had lived there ever since.
Johnnie alone was responsible for the attic conversion three years ago.  Sabine had watched in despair as her lovely, kind, compassionate brother all but followed his wife into an early grave. Finding him, bottle in hand, wandering around town at two o’clock one afternoon barely able to stand, she threatened him with dire consequences if he didn’t stop.
‘Did you see me doing this when I lost Dave? No. It’s hard but you’ve just got to get on with it.’
‘You had Peter,’ he’d muttered. ‘Perhaps if we’d had a child I’d have something to live for.’   
‘You think it was easier because I had a child? Dream on. It was harder. A constant reminder of what I’d lost. He needed to grieve too. You’ve still got a lot of life to live so don’t give me that bullshit about not having anything to live for. I’m still here loving you and so is Peter.’

Author Bio:

I’m English but I’ve lived in France for the past 17 years. After 11 years down on the Cote d’Azur where Richard my husband was a guardian for a villa, we moved from the Mediterranean coast to a small quirky cottage in Finistere, Brittany. A bit of a culture shock to say the least! When I’m not writing I love reading, cooking and having friends around for lunch - lunches that follow the French tradition of lasting for several hours. The Little Kiosk By The Sea is set in my absolute favourite place in England, Dartmouth South Devon, where we lived for several years before moving to France.


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