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Anything is possible…
Struggling writer Faye Carter just can’t believe her luck. She’s off to Provence to write the autobiography of a famous film star and she’ll be staying in the stunning chateau!
So when she meets charming (and completely gorgeous) lavender farmer, Gavin, she knows that she’s made the right choice – even if glamorous, elderly Anabelle seems to be hiding something…
But when the sun is shining, the food is delicious and the air smells of honey, anything seems possible. Will the magic of Provence help Faye finally find a happy-ever-after of her own?
Escape to the south of France with this perfect feel-good summer romance! Perfect for fans of Zara Stoneley, Mandy Baggot and Caroline Roberts.
To Rome, with Love
When Alice Met Danny
What Happens in Tuscany…
What Happens in Cornwall…
What Happens at Christmas…
What Happens in the Alps…
What Happens at the Beach…
Dirty Minds
The Room on the Second Floor
To Provence, With Love
T. A. Williams
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
TREVOR WILLIAMS
lives in Devon with his Italian wife. He lived and worked in Switzerland, France and Italy, before returning to run one of the best-known language schools in the UK. He has taught people from all over the world, among them Arab princes, Brazilian beauty queens and Italian billionaires. He speaks a number of languages and has travelled extensively. He has eaten snake, live fish and alligator. A Spanish dog, a Russian bug and a Korean parasite have done their best to eat him in return. He has written historical novels, romantic comedies and thrillers. His hobby is long-distance cycling, but his passion is writing.
You can follow him on Twitter, @TAWilliamsBooks, find him on Facebook: facebook.com/TrevorWilliamsBooks or visit his website: tawilliamsbooks.com.
Many thanks, as ever, to my lovely editor at HQ Digital, Charlotte Mursell.
Thanks, also to Phil Mason, the fount of all wisdom on that wonderful part of the world that is Provence.
To Mariangela and Christina, with love.
‘Whew!’
Faye ran her hand across her forehead and it came away damp. The late May weather in London that morning had been cool and overcast, but here in the south of France there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the high temperatures were even surprising the locals. The little hire car she had picked up at Nice airport was supposed to have air conditioning, but either it was broken or she just hadn’t been able to fathom out how to make it work. Whatever the reason, even with the windows fully open, it was like a furnace in there. But the air-con, she knew full well, wasn’t her only problem. She now had an even more serious one. She was lost.
She braked as she came to an anonymous