Olivier’s face had fallen like the guillotine, and he’d stalked into the house through the French windows. This was the chance she’d been waiting for. Three glasses of Bucklebury Folly and the Preston brothers’ herbal offerings had numbed her anxiety. The boys had spent all evening telling her sh...
Life was what you made it and that was that. But he did think it was uncanny that he’d ended up at Honeycote Ales, for he had a strong feeling that they were made for each other, that this was where he belonged and that some unseen force had guided him here. Yet no matter how charming the brewery...