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Finding Love at Mermaid Terrace by Kate Forster
About The Book
Love comes when you least expect it…
Tressa Buckland likes her quiet life in Port Lowdy, with its cobbled streets and colourful terraced houses overlooking the sea. Her job at the local paper allows her to pursue her art in her free time, with no one but her tabby cat Ginger Pickles to mind her in Mermaid Terrace. But then the owner of the paper is called away on an emergency, and it’s up to Tressa to run the paper for six months. Her first task: find a new part-time journalist.
Dan Byrne is the angriest man in Ireland – or so the readers of his very successful column, ‘Dan takes on the world’, think. But after a story goes south and he loses his job in Dublin, Dan has no choice but to start afresh. When an opportunity comes up in sleepy Cornwall, Dan and his Golden Retriever Ritchie set off for a new adventure.
For Tressa, Dan’s arrival to Port Lowdy changes everything. Tressa tries not to look too deeply at her own life, but Dan sees a story to uncover in absolutely everyone – even her. The two of them couldn’t be more different… yet, if they can find a way to work together, they may just breathe new life and joy into this sleepy seaside village.
Tressa was grateful for her job because it allowed her to paint. She was an artist, a properly trained one at that, her mother would tell you if you asked, having gone to art school in Plymouth. Tressa sold her paintings and prints of the Cornish sea from a website under the pseudonym The Cornish Mermaid; the sale stopped up her income to pay for living expenses and canvas and everything else was cream. Her mother Wendy said that Tressa was the oldest twenty-six-year old in the UK. She spent her money on not much else besides her art. All her friends were still drinking and dancing all night but Tressa was a loner, not so much by choice as by circumstance. She was shy and she had struggled to stay in contact with friends from school or university, all of whom seemed to be getting engaged or married now. A few of them even had babies. She sent little paintings off to her friends, celebrating their news, and drew cards for the babies and posted them to far away places but no one wanted to come to Port Lowdy and stay at Mermaid Terrace. If Tressa ever pulled an all-nighter it was in front of her easel waiting for the moon to slide behind the clouds when it was the sun’ s turn to take over.
’How will you ever meet someone? ’her mother asked. ‘You’ll never find anyone there. Come on home and find love. We will buy you a place, and you can rent out your house there and come back to it later on.’ Wendy kept trying to coax her daughter to return to St Ives but Tressa didn’t believe in finding love. Love wasn’t lost, so why should she go looking for it?
It would come if it was ready and if love never found her, she had her cat and her art and that was enough, she told herself. There was no one in Port Lowdy worths winging hands with. She knew nearly every one in the village and there were no eligible men under the age of sixty. Older men had never been her thing. There was another artist she’d had a thing with for a while, who she used to see in St Ives, but it wasn’t serious and they both knew it. She didn’t want to live there and he didn’t want to come to Port Lowdy. It was unspoken that their connection was merely physical and a mutual appreciation of art and nothing more. He was nice enough but not enough to want more from him.
The sound of her boss, George, talking on the phone welcomed Tressa to another day at work, as she put her bike into the storage room and then went in to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. Her job at The Port Lowdy Occurrence had been a happy accident after his wife Caro left work to be more involved in with their grandchildren. It wasn’t full time but it gave her enough time to paint and stare out the attic window from her terrace house at thee very changing colour of the sea.
‘Can I see you, Tressie?’
‘Sure,’ said Tressa.
‘Want your tea?’
‘Yes and bring the digestive biscuits,’ George said sombrely. A morning digestive meant George was trying to solve a serious problem. Tressa took the mugs to his desk and sat down facing him, the biscuits tucked under her arm, and she placed them between them.
About The Author
I live in Melbourne, Australia with my husband, two children and dogs and I can be found nursing a laptop, surrounded by magazines and talking on the phone, usually all at once. I am an avid follower of fashion, fame and all things pop culture and I am also an excellent dinner party guest who always brings gossip and champagne.