May 21, 2026
Five-Star Summer
May 5, 2026
Brave New Summer
Don't miss Sarah's next summer novel, coming in May!
Evie is the acting general manager of The Alexandra hotel in picturesque Cornwall, but she feels trapped in a life defined by others’ expectations. Just as she contemplates a fresh start, Abby arrives, sent undercover by the hotel’s owner to assess the staff and operations. But Abby is navigating her own struggles and longs to break free from the shadow of her mother.
As the two women forge an unexpected friendship, they confront their fears and the threat of change looming over them. With the help of a charming chef and a gruff pub owner, they begin to embrace their true selves and the bonds that unite them. Will they find the strength to reshape their futures, or will the weight of the past hold them back?
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Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
Take your career to the next level . . .
Evie stared at the screen. She definitely needed the next level because the current level wasn’t working out for her. An upscale hotel in London known for its luxurious accommodation and impeccable customer service had a vacancy. She should apply.
London. Busy. Anonymous. She’d be able to walk down a street without everyone stopping her to catch up with gossip. No one would notice or care if she arrived home early in the morning wearing the same clothes she’d left the house in the night before. She wouldn’t be greeted by winks and knowing looks from the locals or asked for regular updates. She wouldn’t have to drive to the next town to find a pharmacist who hadn’t known her since she was a baby. A fresh start. A new life.
A new job, where her colleagues wouldn’t include people who used to babysit her.
The team members beaming at her from the website seemed happy. Their careers were obviously going well. Unlike hers.
A big red button encouraged her to “apply here.” Her finger hovered for a moment and then she sat back with a sigh.
Why was she so indecisive? Why was she finding it impossible to make the decision when it was obviously the right thing to do, particularly given the current situation.
Maybe she was having a crisis of confidence, which wasn’t surprising in the circumstances.
How was she going to sell herself? How did she gloss over the fact that the hotel where she’d worked since she’d graduated was basically falling apart under her watch? Admittedly she’d only been in this role for a short time, but knowing that none of this was her fault didn’t make her feel better.
She opened a document on her screen and started to draft a few lines.
“I am a passionate professional—no, that doesn’t sound right.” Evie deleted the words and tried again, staring at the words on the screen. “I am an experienced hospitality professional—yes, that’s better—dedicated to delivering the highest standards of guest relations. I pride myself on offering an unforgettable and curated experience to each—”
“Evie?”
Donna, one of the receptionists, appeared in the doorway and Evie slammed her laptop shut and picked up the cup of coffee that had been growing cold on her desk.
“Hi. Everything okay?”
“Not really. I need to talk to you.” Donna leaned against the door-frame and grinned at her. “You should see your face! Picture of guilt. What are you doing on that laptop of yours that’s so secretive? I hope it’s something that could get you arrested. Your life is much too clean and wholesome.”
“Nothing.”
Preparing to apply for new jobs, because we’re all about to lose the one we currently have.
She felt a flash of guilt. Should she be sharing her fears with the staff? No. That wouldn’t be fair. They’d been through enough lately what with Gerald, the general manager, being unwell and it wasn’t as if she had any real evidence to support her fears. No one from head office had actually said they were going to be closed down or put up for sale. But it seemed the obvious path to her. The rest of the staff were carrying on as normal, cheerfully oblivious to the economic realities of running a hotel.
And it was frustrating because she truly believed she could change things. She was brimming with ideas, but the way things were currently it was impossible to put them into practice.
“Have you joined one of those dating sites?” Donna wasn’t easily deflected. “Because I said to Molly last week, I can’t remember when our Evie last had sex with anyone. She should join one of those sites. But Molly pointed out that one of the disadvantages of living in a small village is that you already know all the eligible men of the right age on account of having been born here, and if you were going to get together with them it would already have happened. You need to spread your net a bit wider. How would you feel about someone older? Edward Barnes is a nice man.”
“Edward Barnes?” Evie spilled coffee on her desk. “Are you talking about Mr Barnes the butcher? Mr Barnes who is retiring next year? He’s more than thirty years older than me.” She snatched a bunch of tissues and soaked up the liquid before it could do any damage.
“He’s seasoned, that’s true, and his hips are giving him problems but he has a gentle personality and he knows a nice piece of sirloin when he sees it . . .” Donna’s voice trailed off and she laughed. “Just kidding. Sort of. Unless you—”
“Enough!” She’d never again be able to walk into the butcher and buy a decent steak. She’d have to order online for the rest of her life.
This whole exchange should make her feel better about being forced to move away from an area she’d lived in all her life and loved. She’d be with people who hadn’t known her since birth. People who wouldn’t take such an active interest in her sex life.
It might even be possible to have a sex life. Which would be a refreshing change.
So why was she feeling conflicted?
“I don’t have time for sex, Donna.”
“Are you listening to yourself? That’s tragic. And don’t tell me you don’t have time. There’s always your lunch hour. We could cover for you while you have a quickie in the laundry room.”
“If you could say that a little louder, Donna—I think the kitchen staff possibly didn’t hear you.”
“Oh, I think they probably did.” The deep male voice came from the doorway, and she glanced up and met the laughing gaze of Luca, her new head chef.
There was no point in wondering if he’d overheard, because clearly he had.
She didn’t know whether to kill Donna or bash her head on the desk.
“Luca.”
Recruiting Luca was one of the few things she’d done right recently, partly because he was an excellent chef, but also because he was one of the few people working here who hadn’t known her since she was a baby. Until thirty seconds ago she’d had an appropriately professional relationship with him, which had been a novelty.
Unfortunately, that professional relationship was now a thing of the past.
She’d never felt this embarrassed in her life, a feeling intensified by the fact he didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Judging from the smile on his face, he found the situation hilarious.
Or maybe it was the thought of someone wanting her badly enough to have a quickie against a stack of freshly laundered sheets and towels that he found hilarious.
Either way, it was going to be a while until she could have a conversation with him without thinking of laundry cupboards.
Determined not to allow this to become awkward she looked him straight in the eye, trying not to think of him naked.
That part wasn’t easy because as well as producing sublime food, Luca was undoubtedly easy on the eye.
He was above average height and beneath the traditional chef whites his shoulders were wide and powerful. She didn’t know whether his physique was the result of a serious gym habit or if he’d been lifting a lot of heavy pans. Maybe that was it. Every time she tried to heave her cast iron casserole out of the oven she promised herself that she was going to start going to the gym.
She gave what she hoped passed for a professional, detached smile. “Did you need something, Luca?”
Still laughing, he stepped forward and placed a file on her desk. “The new menu designs. I know which one I prefer, but I’d like your opinion.”
Someone wanted her opinion. Someone actually thought she might have something to contribute.
The wilting shoots of her confidence sprang back to life.
“Great. I’ll take a look and let you know what I think.”
Donna frowned. “What’s wrong with the current menu design? Gerald approved it.”
Luca transferred his gaze from Evie to Donna. “We’re updating the restaurant. We’ll be offering a smaller, seasonal menu and we need the design to reflect that. I’m sure Gerald would agree.”
Evie almost groaned. She could predict what was coming next. We’ve always done it this way . . .
Donna drew breath. “We’ve always—”
“Thank you, Donna.” Evie interrupted hastily. She didn’t want anyone stifling Luca’s creativity or he’d end up as exhausted and disillusioned as she was. She patted the file and smiled at him. “I’ll take a look at this and get back to you. Great job, Luca.”
“And I had some ideas for redesigning the restaurant. We’re not making the most of the views.”
“Agreed. Let’s arrange a time to talk about that.”
She waited until he left the room and closed her eyes. “He heard you. This is terrible.”
“Terrible? It’s not terrible,” Donna said, “it’s brilliant. Luca! Why didn’t we think of him? We need to add him to our list. True, he’s changing things that don’t need changing which isn’t great, but he is the hottest guy we’ve had around here in a long time. And talking of hot, your cheeks are flaming. I could fry an egg on them.”
“Thanks to you, I already have egg on my face. I don’t need more. And what is this list you’re talking about?”
“The list of potential men you could date. We spent an hour on it last night when we were in the Smuggler’s Inn.”
Evie was appalled. “You were discussing my sex life in the pub? What if the people at the next table heard you?”
“Funny you should say that because they did. It was Anthony and Jeff. They were out celebrating the fourth anniversary of the gallery, but they happily joined in.”
“Joined in?”
“We had quite a large group on it in the end. The more the merrier, I always say.”
“Oh well, that’s great then. Maybe you could have opened it up to the whole pub. Fixing my love life is more entertaining than quiz night, I’m sure.” This was why she should be applying for that job. “Don’t you have more important things to talk about?”
“More important than you? No. We all care about you.”
“Well, that’s nice, obviously, but I can handle my own romantic life, and right now dating is not a priority. And I’m especially not dating someone I work with.”
“Why not? That man is hotter than a chilli pepper, and it’s convenient that he works here. It means that a rendezvous in the laundry room is a definite possibility. Or one of the empty bedrooms.”
And there were far too many of those.
“Stop!” Evie held up a hand. “You have to stop.”
“I’ll stop if you tell me what secretive thing you’re doing on that laptop of yours. And don’t say nothing because I know you well enough to know when you’re hiding something.”
“It’s nothing of interest, really.” Seeing the speculation on Donna’s face, Evie wished she was a better liar. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”
“Is it Pat’s anniversary you’re planning?” Donna was still peering at Evie’s laptop, as if it held the clues to the universe. “Can you believe she has worked here for twenty-five years?”
Yes, she could believe that. She also believed that Pat probably should have moved on to other things at least twenty years ago when she was still feeling fresh and enthusiastic.
“We have a loyal staff,” Evie said. And that, of course, was part of the problem. They’d been here for so long they were set in their ways and refused to change. And she had no idea how to motivate them to do things differently.
She adored Gerald, who had been the general manager for the past fifteen years, but after his heart attack she’d stepped up into the GM role in the hotel and what she’d discovered had almost given her a heart attack, too.
How could he have let things get so bad? The whole place was a disaster.
For the first month she’d worked eighteen-hour days trying to get a full picture, and once she’d got the full picture she’d spent a few more days in full panic mode before sitting down and trying to form a workable plan to save the place. But her plan required everyone to join together and change the way they did things. Unfortunately, most of the staff, though lovely and loyal, liked the way things were done and weren’t prepared to change anything bigger than a lightbulb.
She didn’t have a fraction of Gerald’s experience, but even she could see it was only a matter of time until head office made the decision to intervene in a big way. She knew a developer was interested in the site. He’d had the audacity to spend three nights at the hotel, during which he’d poked his thin hooked nose into every corner and asked intrusive questions. He reminded Evie of a weasel. She’d managed to resist the urge to give him scratchy sheets or feed him dodgy seafood. What was the point? What difference would it make? The ship was sinking and she was trying to bail it out by herself with a teaspoon.
All she could do was grab herself a lifebelt, which was why she really should be applying for jobs. This was the push she’d needed to do what she probably should have done a long time ago.
Maybe calling herself “an experienced hospitality professional” was pushing it. If she was being honest she should probably be describing herself as “burned out, disillusioned and hopeless at establishing boundaries with the staff.” She’d thought that over time they’d start to respect her experience but that wasn’t happening. And maybe it was unrealistic to expect it. To some of them she was still the child who had sat on their laps and watched TV with a glass of milk.
She felt a pang, because there were some things she’d miss, of course.
She woke every morning to the sound of waves crashing onto the rocks and the shriek of seagulls. She ran on the beach and the coast path and bought her fish straight from the boats that landed on the quay.
But she kept those thoughts to herself and tried again to make Donna focus on work. “You came in here to talk to me about something.”
“Did I? Oh yes—” Donna nodded. “I’d forgotten for a moment. Mrs Dodds is refusing to pay in full because she says she asked for hypoallergenic bedding and she was given feathers. She hasn’t had a wink of sleep for three nights because her airways have closed up.”
“But she always has hypoallergenic bedding. It’s on the computer system.”
“Mandy hates the computer system. And I know we also keep cards for each guest, but I think she forgot to look at it. Anyway, Mrs Dodds didn’t get hypoallergenic bedding. I’ve told her it was the highest quality down and feathers but that didn’t soothe her. She said when this happened last time Gerald comped the whole stay.”
“He didn’t charge her at all? For the whole week?”
“That’s right.”
And that, Evie thought wearily, was just one of the reasons the hotel was in trouble.
“All right. I’ll deal with this. How bad is it? Should we offer to make her a doctor’s appointment?”
“I don’t think she wants that. I told her it was a mix-up and that we’re sorry, but she seems to want financial compensation. And one of our branded waffle bathrobes.”
One of the disadvantages of being a five-star hotel and providing top quality bathroom products was that guests tended to walk off with them.
“I’ll talk to Mrs Dodds right now, then I need to see Mandy.”
Mandy was the head housekeeper. Evie had tried to persuade her to use the computer system that automatically flagged guest preferences, but she was scared of it and preferred to check the old-fashioned card system that had been in place for decades.
“Go easy on her,” Donna said. “She’s already upset because Mrs Dodds shouted. Honestly, it’s not that big a deal. I’m sure she’ll stop sneezing if she goes for a walk on the beach. Fresh air, that’s what she needs. And maybe antihistamine.”
“Donna, it’s a big deal,” Evie said. “Firstly because we have an unhappy guest, which means we’ve failed at our job. Secondly because it is much easier to keep guests than it is to cultivate new ones, so losing a guest is bad news. And thirdly as well as losing money by compensating her, we risk a bad review and bad reviews put people off staying here. And they also affect our SEO ranking and—”
“Our what?”
“Never mind. I’ll handle it, Donna.”
“Right—before you do that, I wanted to ask if I could leave early today. I need to take my mother to a hospital appointment and the journey takes forever at this time of year. I know it’s not great timing—”
That was true. They were already short-staffed, but what could she say? She knew how hard it was for Donna, caring for her elderly mother at the same time as raising her family and working.
“Of course. How is she?”
“Frail. She seemed to give up after Dad died. Anyway, such is life. All you can do is carry on carrying on. Thanks, Evie.”
Evie wondered if she dared ask Donna to come in early tomorrow to make up the time, but then remembered she had to drop her youngest at school.
Unable to see a solution, she stood up and followed Donna to the front desk where Mrs Dodds was making her discontent known to anyone who would listen and a great number of other people who would probably rather have not listened. Her face was red and blotchy and her tirade was punctuated by sneezing.
Her mouth tightened when she saw Evie. “I have been staying at The Alexandra, Cornwall for—”
“The past ten years. I know, Mrs Dodds, and you’re a special and valued guest. I’m extremely sorry this happened. It was a genuine mistake and I assure you it will never happen again.” She smoothed and soothed, ignoring the inner voice telling her that the way things were at that moment, it probably would happen again.
“What are you going to do about it? Gerald would have offered me my next holiday free of charge.”
“Last night will be complimentary, and we are going to offer you a special discounted rate for your booking next year.” She was determined not to give away an entire stay.
“I’ve been rethinking my booking for next year. I’m not sure I’ll be able to look forward to it after what has happened. How can you be sure it won’t happen again?”
Good question.
“Because I am personally going to look into it and will be doing some intensive staff training.” Which, she could safely predict, would make absolutely no difference at all to the level of service delivered.
It didn’t really matter what she promised because she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that The Alexandra wouldn’t be in business next year. It would have been closed or sold off to someone who would probably turn it into holiday homes which would remain empty for eleven months of the year. The thought depressed her. She couldn’t imagine strolling through the village and not seeing the hotel nestled in the dip on the headland.
Having pacified Mrs Dodds and offered medical assistance (which was refused), she returned to her office and Mandy appeared a few minutes later.
Evie knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.
“Mandy, why don’t you take a seat and—”
“You look exhausted, Evie. You’re the one who should be taking a seat, you poor lamb. I still can’t believe you’re all grown up and in charge.”
How was she supposed to exert authority when the staff treated her like a favourite pet?
“I’m fine, really. But Mandy, I need to speak to you about Mrs Dodds.”
“Don’t you worry your head about that. No one likes to be yelled at and I was upset by the things she said, that’s true, but I’m over it. I’m not one to hold grudges. I’m sure she didn’t mean to shout at me the way she did. She obviously woke up in a bad mood.”
Evie opened her mouth to say that Mrs Dodds had woken up surrounded by feathers which might have explained her less than sunny disposition, but Mandy was still talking.
“When did you last eat something, Evie? You’re always working, that’s your problem. Morning noon and night you’re in this office slogging away. And you’re so serious. You used to laugh all the time. You’ve always been a smiler. I remember your dad pushing you through the village when you were two years old and you were waving your chubby little legs and beaming at everyone. Every trip took him twice as long because we all wanted to cuddle you.”
“I’m just trying to do my job, and—”
“You need to be easier on yourself,” Mandy said, “or you’ll go the same way as Gerald, God bless him.”
Evie was fond of Gerald, who was kind and avuncular and had ultimately carried the responsibility for the success or failure of the hotel. But he’d let things slide and it wasn’t until he’d collapsed on that horrible day a couple of months ago that she’d realised how bad things were.
In a way this whole situation was his fault, she thought, although she would never dare to voice that opinion out loud.
She’d panicked and sent an email to head office, directed to the guy in charge of UK operations. When she’d had no reply, she’d sent another one, assuming her first email must have gone into spam.
When there had been no reply to that either, she’d left a voicemail and then given up.
Perhaps they didn’t want to help. Perhaps they’d already sold the hotel and hadn’t got round to telling the staff.
She sat up straighter. There was no evidence for any of the grim thoughts she was having. She was overthinking things.
“I hope I’m in better health than Gerald,” she said, “and I’m younger. You don’t need to worry.”
“But it’s a slippery slope. We all think you’ve been working too hard. So hard you’ve forgotten what day it is.”
Evie stared at her. “What day is it?”
But Mandy already had her head out of the door and was gesturing to whoever was outside.
A moment later her office was full of people. At a rough count it seemed like the entire staff, including Edward, her dad, who had been working as concierge for three decades. He was the longest-serving member of staff and definitely the most knowledgeable.
Emotion filled her and she felt her throat thicken.
If the hotel was sold, her dad would lose his job and that would be terrible. This place was like a home to him, and the team a family.
None of them seemed to have any idea how bad things were. They’d trusted Gerald completely.
And now they were all smiling as they produced a large cake with eight candles blazing.
“Today is the eighth anniversary of the day you started working at the hotel,” Mandy said, “I mean full time—I’m not counting all the hours you put in here as a teenager. You’re so busy holding the fort you’ve forgotten. And look at you! Sitting in the boss’s chair. We can’t believe our little Evie is all grown up.”
“Well, I—thanks.” The fact that she was sitting in the boss’s chair didn’t seem to have any impact on the way they saw her.
“We made your favourite cake, Evie. Chocolate sponge with chocolate icing, topped with chocolate buttons. I remember making something similar for your fifth birthday. Most of it ended up on your face. I have a photo somewhere. I should try and find it.”
“Please don’t.” Evie stood up and blew out the candles before they could set off the smoke alarm. “How thoughtful of you all. Thank you. Er—who is on reception while you’re all in here?”
“No one, but if someone comes, they can wait for five minutes.”
“It’s important to greet guests immediately they arrive, and—”
“Gerald always believed it was important that the staff were relaxed. It makes us seem more welcoming.”
“But if no one is manning the desk then it won’t be welcoming, and—”
“Stop stressing. You put such pressure on yourself. No wonder you look tired. Now—” Mandy wielded a large knife “—large slice or small slice?”
“Small is—oh, you’re going for large. Right. Thanks.” She took the slice of cake. It was bigger than her head. She was starting to understand why Gerald had suffered a heart attack. “I might save it until later and have it with a cup of tea.”
“We can make you tea. Or something stronger? You look wrung out.”
And this was the problem of course. They were nice people. Generous and kind. Occasionally they were even reasonable at their jobs, but occasionally reasonable wasn’t enough to give the hotel the occupancy they needed or the reviews. And every time she tried to address some aspect of improving the guest experience, they either reminded her that their approach had worked fine for Gerald, or they mentioned some time in her childhood when she’d committed some hilarious infraction she’d been trying to escape ever since.
Maybe it would be easier if she had a peer she could talk to, but there was no one.
She was on her own with this. She had to keep going. Keep trying.
Or get out.
“While I have you all here it’s the perfect time to remind everyone of the importance of keeping accurate guest records.” She tried to sound firm and managerial. “We keep meticulous and detailed records on every guest so that we can make sure we deliver exactly the experience they’re looking for, and more. These should be reviewed every evening when we’re preparing for the following day’s arrivals. One of the many advantages of having such a long-established staff, is that we have the privilege of getting to know guests over a period of many years. We are more than hotel staff, we are friends and we pride ourselves on the personal touch.”
“Don’t worry about that now, pet. Eat your cake.”
Cake wasn’t going to solve her problems, but they weren’t going to leave her office until she’d eaten it.
“Just a little taste, and I’ll save the rest for later—” Because they were all watching her expectantly she dug her fork into it and ate a small piece. It was heavenly. The flavour. The texture. The softness of the sponge against the creamy filling. It didn’t just taste delicious, it actually made her feel better about her life. “Oh . . . ” She closed her eyes. “This is—who made this?”
Luca emerged from the back of the crowd. “That would be me.”
The laughter in his eyes and the way his cheeks creased when he smiled made her wish she’d done more than simply pull her hair into a scrunchie that morning.
Thanks to Donna she couldn’t stop thinking of the laundry cupboard.
She blanked that thought. Who cared that he was hotter than a chilli pepper? What really mattered was that he was an excellent chef. He was so talented that she was afraid that once he discovered the truth about the establishment he’d joined, he might be on the first train back to London.
Still, until that happened, she was going to make the most of eating well.
During his interview he’d produced several dishes for her to taste. She’d nibbled her way through tiny strips of seared venison in a blackberry sauce. She’d eaten broccoli that tasted nothing like any broccoli she’d ever cooked at home. By the time she’d sampled his crème brûlée she’d been ready to beg him to take the job.
He’d taken it, and the restaurant had been transformed into an almost overnight success. They even had a waiting list for some evenings.
But it wouldn’t be enough, would it? It was too little, too late.
No matter how hard she tried to remain optimistic, it didn’t change the fact that the hotel was in trouble. And it also didn’t change the fact that no matter what she did, people were always going to see her as “our Evie.” She had so much more to give! So much more that she could be contributing. So many ideas. She wanted a chance to prove herself.
She waited until they all finally left the room and opened her laptop again.
With one eye on the door, she finished filling out the application.
Feeling like a traitor, she hit the button and submitted it without allowing herself time to do any more thinking.
There. Done.
And she had no reason to feel guilty. It was obvious that head office had no plans to sell or they would have been in touch. Things would carry on the way they always had, with or without her.
Everything was going to be fine.
