Kellie Hailes

The Big Little Festival


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      The little village where love blooms…

      With only weeks until the little Devon village of Rabbits Leap holds its first ever festival, Jody McArthur is desperate. She – more than anyone – wants to raise the funds to rebuild the local swimming pool as, when she fell pregnant with her twin boys, it was the villagers who were there to support her. So, to stop disaster in its tracks, she brings in bigshot London events manager Christian Middlemore to make The Big Little Festival the huge success everyone deserves.

      But Jody is totally unprepared for the impact reserved-but-gorgeous Christian has on Rabbit’s Leap – and her heart! Except Jody has avoided relationships for so long, and anyway, she’s sure romance between a country-born-and-bred single mum and a career-focused city boy would be impossible – wouldn’t it?

      As tensions rise along with the home-baked scones and miles and miles of bunting, Jody is about to find out!

       Join the whole village at The Big Little Festival for the perfect summer day out! The second book set in the picture-perfect Rabbits Leap… perfect for fans of Cathy Bramley, Holly Hepburn and Cressida McLaughlin.

      The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises (Rabbits Leap, Book 1)

      The Big Little Festival

      Kellie Hailes

      ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

      At the age of five, KELLIE HAILES declared she was going to write books when she grew up. It took a while for her to get there, with a career as a radio copywriter, freelance copywriter and web writer filling the dream-hole, until now. Kellie lives on an island-that’s-not-really-an-island in New Zealand with her patient husband, funny little human and neurotic cat. When the characters in her head aren’t dictating their story to her, she can be found taking short walks, eating good cheese and jonesing for her next coffee fix.

      To all those who read, blogged, tweeted and showed support for The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises, thank you, thank you, thank you. Your love for Rabbits Leap means the world to me, and I really can’t thank you enough. Here’s a few more though… thank you, thank you, thank you!

      To my husband. Thanks for your continued support, and for putting up with the clickety clack of the keyboard going off in your ear during early mornings and into the depths of night.

      Natalie Gillespie. What would I do without you? Every single time I ask ‘how do you say this in England’ you put me right and correct my Kiwi-isms. Bless your cotton socks.

      To my wonderful editor, Victoria Oundjian. Your suggestions, your advice, your thoughts are invaluable. You’re a treasure, and working with you is truly a pleasure.

      For Daisy,

      I love you to the ends of the ever-expanding universe.

      Contents

       Cover

       Blurb

       Title Page

       Author Bio

       Acknowledgements

       Dedication

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Excerpt

       Endpages

       Copyright

      Let’s have a festival, they said. It’ll be great for the town, they said. You’re head of the PTA, you’ll make a great festival committee head, they said.

      Finally, she’d thought, relief easing the ever-present guilt that years ago had settled in the back of her mind, and deep in her heart. The chance I’ve been waiting for to right my wrongs.

      Jody sank back into the village hall’s burnt-orange-coloured plastic chair and resisted the urge to bang her forehead repeatedly on the dirty, cream-coloured foldaway table before her. She’d known taking on the festival was going to be a big job, but she’d had no idea just how big. The admin alone was mind-boggling, but it was a walk in the park compared to dealing with the two women sitting before her.

      ‘People. Won’t. Come. If. We. Don’t. Have. Clowns.’ With every word, Shirley Harper banged the table with the flat of her palm, as if hoping she might knock some sense into her fellow festival committee members.

      ‘People. Won’t. Come. If. We. Do. Have. Clowns.’ Marjorie Hunter jabbed the air in Shirley’s direction, punctuating her point. ‘Clowns. Scare. People.’

      Jody rubbed her temples, hoping to ease the throb that