A Wedding in Cornwall (Books 7—12)
The last six novellas in the UK bestselling series A WEDDING IN CORNWALL are now available in one collection! Join American event planner Julianne in her final set of adventures 'across the pond' in beautiful Cornwall. From celebrity sightings to a local talent show, from a charming village fete to a secret Cornish garden, there's never a dull moment for Julianne and her Poldark-esque true love Matthew in the quaint village of Ceffylgwyn.
This collection contains A Romance in Cornwall, A Star in Cornwall, A Sewing Circle in Cornwall, A Talent Show in Cornwall, An American in Cornwall, and A Garden in Cornwall. Exclusive bonus materials include a sneak peek of the author's all-new 2019 Cornish romance series!
Laura Briggs is the author of several lighthearted romance novels and novellas, including the bestselling Amazon UK series A Wedding in Cornwall. She has a fondness for vintage-style dresses (especially ones with polka dots), and reads everything from Jane Austen to modern day mysteries. When she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with family, caring for her pets, going to movies and plays, and trying new restaurants.
Social Media Links –
Twitter: https://twitter.com/PaperDollWrites
Giveaway to Win A Wedding in Cornwall – 3 different prizes (Open Internationally)
1st Name Drawn will win - A paperback copy of the anthology to be shipped to the winner by the author via Amazon
2nd Name Drawn will win - A digital/eBook copy of the anthology to be sent via email
3rd Name Drawn will win - A Smashwords coupon code good for a free download of 1 ‘Surprise eBook’ from the Cornwall series of novellas
*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome. Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below. The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then I reserve the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over. Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time I will delete the data. I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.
Thank you to Charlotte Lynn for featuring an extract from my romance anthology A Wedding in Cornwall: Books 7-12. The scene below is from the final novella in the series, A Garden in Cornwall. It shows the heroine Julianne on a quest to discover the original landscape artist behind a long-neglected garden her husband Matt is seeking to restore for a Cornish estate owner:
Around the next bend in the path, I was confronted by a clearing in the dell, and clear signs of human civilization, albeit untidy ones. A gardener's home, although it was more like the depositing ground for the last bits of every gardener's plans and sketches, with splashes of bright blossom color and tumbled-down heaps of earth, compost, and broken terracotta having equal parts in the vision.
A flower bed of sparse, delicate, dry plants in grey-greens and whites; another full of lush, green things spilled into it, early blooms bringing red and vibrant pinks into the mix. Beds tumbled into each other with bent stems, seed pods, tangled vines and pincushions of wrinkly, beveled leaves, irregular boundaries marked by stones or old bricks holding in the dirt. An odd spiraling iron trellis covered entirely by two climbing roses was the main feature in this garden; the second, a shack-like cottage pushed to the back of the clearing, almost buried under ivy.
Heaps of empty gardening pots and black earth studded with volunteer seedlings were piled on either side of its door. No knocker and no bell, only several wind chimes of brass pipe discolored by the elements, most missing their fans, although one had a flattened souvenir spoon for the Cutty Sark dangling below instead.
I was contemplating whether to knock on the door or turn around and leave when the gardener who evidently lived in this place rose from behind a sprawling forsythia. He looked as surprised at the sight of me as I was at him — I gave a little leap, my hand pressing over the baby's position automatically.
"Who are you?" he asked.
He was definitely old — thin, almost frail-looking with the barest muscle left on his arms, and wrinkly, transparent skin slightly darkened by the sun so it resembled old parchment. Sun spots and freckles on every exposed inch of him, a grey-white shock of hair beneath his straw hat, a heavy moustache beneath his nose, and a grizzled jaw in need of a shave for its short crop of bristles.
On the end of his prominent nose, a pair of heavy bifocals was perched, attached to an untidy-looking hemp string around his neck. His linen shirt and worn trousers reminded me of Matt's a little, given their stains and raggedy state, although their light color resembled old cricketing whites, maybe from years of laundering abuse. He surveyed me with a look of suspicion and curiosity, and — if I wasn't mistaken — a touch of contempt.
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