Amidst the chaos and danger of WW2, a woman determined to prove herself falls for her brother's business partner in a relationship teeming with secrets. Keep reading to get a tempting taste of The Hobby Shop on Barnaby Street by Jillianne Hamilton, then add this first installment in the Homefront Hearts series to your bookshelf while it's free too!
A forbidden wartime romance begins just as German planes fill the skies over London in 1940. A playful and heartfelt read perfect for fans of Dear. Mrs. Bird, The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir, and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.
When Maisie Beckett steps into her brother’s struggling London hobby shop during wartime, she’s confronted with two harsh realities: the looming threat of a Nazi invasion and the shop’s dire financial situation. Determined to prove herself to her parents and keep the shop afloat, Maisie moonlights as a pinup photographer, covertly boosting the shop’s earnings. In the midst of London’s nightly bombings, Maisie finds herself irresistibly drawn to the shop’s co-owner, Cal Woodbury, captivated by his quick wit and bashful smile—and his mysterious secret.But Cal made a promise to his best friend and business partner, Roy—a promise that he would never pursue a romantic relationship with Maisie, Roy’s sweet and beautiful sister. As the German bombs rain down upon London, and as Cal’s bond with Maisie deepens, he discovers that some promises are impossible to keep. When Roy deserts the Navy and unexpectedly appears at Cal’s doorstep, Cal is forced to choose between his loyal friend and the woman he’s falling for.
While London goes to war around them, Maisie and Cal face their own battle—finding their courage and recognizing their worth.
EXCERPT:
Just before five o’clock I pulled the ladder from the back office and hauled the blackout curtains from under the front counter. They weren’t technically black but a dark mossy green. They did the trick though, even satisfying the local ARP wardens who were sticklers for the blackout rules. As I went through my daily ritual of tacking the curtains over the shop front windows, along the top and sides specifically, I stretched to reach the top corner of the curtain to stick it in place. Suddenly, the ladder shifted underneath me, tilting on one leg before falling sideways and smashing to the floor, me along with it.
The bell over the door sounded and I felt the nudge of the door push against my arm.
“Goodness!” someone said from the other side of the door, only able to open it about an inch or so.
“I’m fine,” I said, pushing the ladder off, kicking the useless thing out of the way and then getting to my feet.
With me out of the way, a messenger opened the door further and poked his head in. “You’re sure you’re not hurt, mister?”
“Only my pride,” I said, ignoring the ache spreading in my shoulder. I opened the door wider for him. “Can I help you?”
He pulled a card from his bag. “Telegram for you.” He tipped his hat at me and continued on his route.
I raised an eyebrow at the heavy capital lettering of the telegram.
Maisie will assist at shop. - George Beckett
Rereading it I scratched the back of my neck. I realized telegrams charged by the word, but a little more explanation would have been appreciated.
I hadn’t seen Maisie since we were kids. My most significant memory of her was from before Mum and I left Hazeldon to live in London with my uncle and his family.
I was seven or eight when I saw her running alone into the little wooded area outside the village and I followed her. She was sitting astride a moss-covered log when I found her, taking photographs of a frog or something. Her long braids trailed down her back and her shoes were caked in mud. I sneaked up behind her and scared her and she got cross with me because the frog got away. We sat together on the log for a while and I don’t know why I did it, but I asked if I could kiss her. We both leaned in, closed our eyes, our lips puckered, and we shared our first kiss together. I remembered feeling very shy around her after that.
I sighed and cursed under my breath again. I didn’t want Maisie coming to London for my sake, not when the Luftwaffe was on our doorstep.
The bell over the door sounded and I felt the nudge of the door push against my arm.
“Goodness!” someone said from the other side of the door, only able to open it about an inch or so.
“I’m fine,” I said, pushing the ladder off, kicking the useless thing out of the way and then getting to my feet.
With me out of the way, a messenger opened the door further and poked his head in. “You’re sure you’re not hurt, mister?”
“Only my pride,” I said, ignoring the ache spreading in my shoulder. I opened the door wider for him. “Can I help you?”
He pulled a card from his bag. “Telegram for you.” He tipped his hat at me and continued on his route.
I raised an eyebrow at the heavy capital lettering of the telegram.
Maisie will assist at shop. - George Beckett
Rereading it I scratched the back of my neck. I realized telegrams charged by the word, but a little more explanation would have been appreciated.
I hadn’t seen Maisie since we were kids. My most significant memory of her was from before Mum and I left Hazeldon to live in London with my uncle and his family.
I was seven or eight when I saw her running alone into the little wooded area outside the village and I followed her. She was sitting astride a moss-covered log when I found her, taking photographs of a frog or something. Her long braids trailed down her back and her shoes were caked in mud. I sneaked up behind her and scared her and she got cross with me because the frog got away. We sat together on the log for a while and I don’t know why I did it, but I asked if I could kiss her. We both leaned in, closed our eyes, our lips puckered, and we shared our first kiss together. I remembered feeling very shy around her after that.
I sighed and cursed under my breath again. I didn’t want Maisie coming to London for my sake, not when the Luftwaffe was on our doorstep.
--THE SEAMSTRESS ON CIDER LANE - Releasing February 5, 2024 - PRE-ORDER LINKS: AMAZON | iBOOKS | KOBO | BN
AUTHOR INFO:
Jillianne Hamilton writes delightful historical fiction and historical romance novels featuring rebellious ladies and happy endings. Her stories feature feisty female protagonists and plenty of sass and wit, using the past as an exciting backdrop. Her debut novel was shortlisted for the 2016 PEI Book Award and her debut historical fiction novel, The Spirited Mrs. Pringle, was longlisted for the 2022 Historical Fiction Company Book Award.
She lives in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island on Canada’s beautiful east coast. She is a member of the Paper Lantern Writers author collective.
Thanks so much! :D
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