The Recipe for Happiness
136 pages
English

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136 pages
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Description

'Beautifully written and both heartbreaking and heartwarming' Jessica Redland

When Seren’s brother Andrew signs her up to Yorkshire Dating, only for them to recommend that she ‘gets a life’ before they find her a match, Seren has to admit that they may have a point.

She loves her job cooking at an elder day centre and her little flat, but it’s fair to say her life is a little short of hobbies and friends. Since she was young Seren has felt safer close to home, but now she’s a thirty-something divorcee, it’s time for a change.

Change arrives in the shape of alarmingly clever collie Kez, who Seren offers to take in ‘temporarily’, and kind but mysterious new colleague Ned. But as Ned and Kez tempt Seren out of her shell, it means facing her fears. And when Andrew finally reveals the secrets of their childhood, Seren’s need for safety suddenly makes sense.

A problem shared is a problem halved, and with friends by her side, Seren might be able to get a life that she loves at last.

Praise for Jane Lovering:

'I adored the dual timeline aspect of this gorgeous story and discovering the secrets from the past. Beautifully written and both heartbreaking and heartwarming' Jessica Redland

'A funny, warm-hearted read, filled with characters you'll love.' Matt Dunn on A Country Escape

What readers are saying about Jane Lovering:

'A heart-warming, entertaining and uplifting book about the importance of human connection, self-acceptance and making the most of any opportunities that come your way! I absolutely loved it and could not fault it.'

'I am a big fan of Jane Lovering’s books. She has a real knack for creating great characters and writing the perfect blend of romance and humour often with some more serious issues included. Her books will make you smile for sure but are also often rather emotional.'

'It wouldn’t be a book by Jane Lovering without that great balance between the ever-present humour – the set pieces and the wonderful one-liners – and the sensitively handled issues and emotional moments.'

'A compulsively readable, highly recommended book.'


Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 09 juin 2023
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781804152546
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,1500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE RECIPE FOR HAPPINESS


JANE LOVERING
This book is dedicated to the Kirkbymoorside Brass Band, who are absolutely real, very much deserve the accolades and awards they have won, and very much don’t deserve the terrible things I have done to them in this book. It is also dedicated to my children, Tom, Vienna, Fern, Will and Addie, and their partners Zoe, Heather, Ryan, Emily and Sam. Love you all, guys.
CONTENTS



Prologue

Chapter 1

Seren’s Absolute Ultimate Cottage Pie

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Proper Shortbread

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Earl Grey Tea Scones

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Banana and Walnut Cake

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20


A Very Easy But Very Flash Cake

More from Jane Lovering

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
PROLOGUE
YORKSHIRE DATING



Please complete all fields to help you have the best chance of finding a compatible match:


Name: Seren James


Age: 32


Height: 1.7 metres


Medium
Body Type: Select One From Box Above:


Divorced, living alone
Status: Select One From Box Above


Hobbies/Interests:


Tell us a bit about you!
I work as a cook at a daycare centre for senior citizens and also as a housekeeper for the site, so I live above the job. And I’m looking for a friend/relationship with a man.



* * *


Three months later


From: YorkshireDating@toodleoo.com
To: Seren James@yoyoboy.com
Hi, Seren!
We note that you’ve been a member for three months now and not had a single match from your chosen partner group! We’ve had a look through your profile and think you’d probably have a little more success if you put in a bit more about you! We’ve deleted, as requested, those less-than-satisfactory approaches (sorry about those, there’s always a few and it’s very hard to weed them out), but, in order for you to find your Perfect Match, we think you should consider filling in a few of your hobbies and interests – the things you do on a Saturday, the places you like to go, how you spend your spare time, that kind of thing.
Basically, make yourself sound a bit more interesting and we are sure that the dates will just flood in!
If you haven’t matched with one person before 1 August, we will terminate your membership.
Yours
Richard, Sue, Bev and Amanda; the team behind YORKSHIRE DATING.
I held my phone up to Gregor, who had inadvisably, and somewhat drunkenly, asked about my love life. He and my brother, Andrew, had been the ones who’d got me signed up to Yorkshire Dating. Glowing with the success of their own relationship, which had now reached married status, they’d seen fit to decide that a single girl in possession of hair, teeth and half a brain must be in want of a boyfriend.
They were wrong. I mean, obviously not in the hair, teeth and brain department, I’d definitely got all those. But wanting a partner? Not so much.
‘The dating agency is throwing me out. Even they can’t find me anyone. Apart from those men who’ve sent me unsolicited pictures of what I have to assume were their willies. The pictures are usually so shaky-handed and out of focus that it’s sometimes hard to know whether they photographed their genitals or their lunch.’ I waggled the screen in front of Gregor as the wedding after-party continued around us at full volume.
‘But they are right!’ He swayed a bit. Those cocktails were potent and probably responsible for my oversharing . ‘You must tell them all about you! Otherwise they cannot see the full glory that is Seren!’ Gregor drained another glass of very pink alcohol. I’d steered clear of the punch because the stuff looked like it might glow in the dark. ‘Andrew! You come tell your sister she must put all about her life!’
Andrew loomed over the back of the sofa. ‘He’s right, Seren, love,’ he said, holding aloft a glass of something that looked as though it should register on the Geiger scale. ‘You need to fill the form in properly. Greg, come over here, I’ve been telling Ernst about your latest design…’
I went to stand in the hallway. Around me, music played and couples danced, Andrew anxiously hovered to prevent food getting mashed into the carpet and nobody bothered about me and my email. It was the first time I’d ever been nagged by a commercial company. ‘Make yourself sound a bit more interesting.’ Huh. I was interesting! I’d just been having a down day when I’d filled in that form, and having Andrew and Gregor hanging over me, peering at everything I wrote, had been decidedly off-putting. Especially when I’d put ‘medium’ in the build/body type box, and Andrew had sucked his teeth and made wobbly head motions. But then, he was my brother, so winding me up was practically his hobby.
There were loads of things I could have put in the ‘hobbies’ box. There was… well. I quite liked walking. Outside, place to place, looking at views, rather than just perambulating up and down a corridor, obviously. Yes, walking. And… books? I liked books. Some of them. When I got time to read. Which wasn’t often, now I came to think of it. I didn’t have time for much walking either, except round the kitchen.
To be honest, my job left me so little time for hobbies that I didn’t see how I was going to manage to fit a boyfriend in either. I narrowed my eyes at Andrew and Gregor, laughing, arms draped over one another’s shoulders. I was fine as I was. My lack of anything approaching a life didn’t bother me.
Odile, one of Greg’s coworkers at the design agency, flopped against the wall next to me and fanned herself. ‘Phew. Hot in here.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself much, Seren. What’s up? Your brother’s finally married, we can stop with all the planning and the lists and the stuff about the flowers and the cake – pressure’s off! Let’s party!’
‘Mmm.’
Odile shrugged and whirled away off into the throng again. The high-ceilinged room was full of the smell of the very expensive floral arrangements. It was like being hit around the nose by a perfume manufacturer, and the white walls, dotted with choice pieces of artwork, led to the impression that I was existing inside an advertisement.
Everyone seemed happy. Everyone was drinking and chatting and dancing. Except me. Me and my email, telling me that I was such a loser that even a paid-for dating site was willing to drop me. I was probably dragging their statistics down.
Hobbies and interests? Who had time for hobbies and interests? Surely everyone got up, went to work and then came home to collapse onto a sofa and stare bleakly into space until it was time for bed. Didn’t they?
I looked around me at the shrieking throng. This was the unfortunate thing, well, unfortunate for me, anyway. All Andrew and Gregor’s friends looked like the kind of people who went to see Orson Welles retrospectives at weekends. Who wandered around art galleries and picked up ‘choice pieces’ from up-and-coming new artists for their homes. Who were taking classes in blacksmithing or burlesque dancing or, I dunno, rare frog breeding. In short, they all looked like people who had lives. Rich, fulfilling, activity-filled lives. And, in consequence, not one of them looked short of a partner.
But then, I tried to reassure myself, this is a wedding. Of course they’ve all brought partners. Who goes to a wedding alone?
And, over on the other side of the room, my reflection in a mirror that wouldn’t have looked out of place at Versailles stared back at me and said, ‘ You do.’
1

Two weeks later, once everyone had got the alcohol out of their systems and Andrew and Gregor were back from their honeymoon (ten days in Cancun), I was round at their flat again. For dinner this time, just the three of us.
‘I have been thinking,’ Gregor announced. He was big, and Polish, and every pronouncement sounded as though he were about to launch into an operatic aria. ‘That we must find you a pastime.’
‘ Little bit patronising, love.’ Andrew came in bearing something that looked home-cooked, although my professional eye spotted the slightly too regular sides, which meant he’d tipped it out of the Marks & Spencer container it had come in. ‘Seren is quite capable of finding her own hobbies. Er. If she wants any,’ he added, catching my glare.
‘But she will be fired from her dating app.’ Greg, not one whit abashed, tucked his napkin into his collar and picked up his knife and fork in happy anticipation. ‘He’s adorable,’ Andrew always said about his husband, ‘but a complete philistine.’ But, since Greg always called Andrew something so totally Polish that neither of us could pick out any words, we let this go.
‘I don’t mind, honestly.’ It was just nice to be sitting here in their immaculate Georgian house in York, with the original window shutters and the sweeping staircase that made me feel as though I should come down it in a ballgown doing high kicks. ‘I don’t really want anyone, Greg, honestly.’
‘I have been thinking.’ Greg helped himself to shepherd’s pie. The two of them lived the life of art gallery owners; stylish and cutting edge, but they ate like a pair of pub landlords on their day off. ‘You need a hobby.’
‘No, I don’t.’ Definitely one of Marks’ finest, I thought, staring at the meat and potato concoction in front of me. Slightly too much potato, that would be a budgetary choice, and I wouldn’t have made the gravy quite so thick. But then, I pondered, turning over my serving with a fork, I cooked for people who complained about the texture and colour of everything I made.
‘And I think you should come along to my evenings.’ Gregor finished his pronouncement by ladling up a forkful of mash and smacking his lips with anticipatory relish.
‘Oh, God, no.’ Andrew covered his eyes. ‘Please, love, don’t subject Seren to your group!’
‘And why not?’ Greg eyeballed my brother

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