Little
Boxes by Celia J Anderson (@celiaanderson1) Out Now! #romance #contemporary
#novel #book
Blurb:
Suddenly bereaved, Molly White
realises that she has never really known her feisty husband Jake when random
boxes begin to appear through the post, each one containing a tantalising clue
to the secrets of Jake and Molly’s past. Someone who knows them both well, for
reasons of their own, has planned a trail of discovery. The clues seem to be
designed to change Molly’s life completely, leading her around Britain France Bavaria
Meanwhile, waiting in the wings is
Tom, a charismatic artist who runs a gallery in the same town. Strong,
independent and wheelchair-bound from the age of fifteen, he leads a solitary
life and has no idea how devastatingly attractive he is to women. When Tom
meets curvy, beautiful and funny Molly, he knows that she is his dream woman,
but she seems way out of his orbit until the boxes start to weave their spell
and the two of them are thrown right out of their comfort zones.
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23360501-little-boxes
Excerpt:
Tom sat on the beach in the spring
sunshine, eating cockles out of a tub and
gazing rather grimly at the incoming
tide. If it came much closer he’d have to
abandon his painting for the day –
it took a good twenty minutes to pack up and get
back to his car on the promenade.
As he licked his fingers and screwed
up the seafood carton, there was a scrunch
of pebbles and a whoosh of air as a
small boy thundered past, whooping at the top
of his voice. He was followed at
speed by the most desirable woman that Tom could
ever remember seeing in this small
seaside town. It was his Lady in Red; the one
who had been cropping up in his
dreams far too often since he’d first seen her on the
beach. Her hair was an explosion of
dark curls, and she wore tight orange jeans with
a wildly clashing crimson sweater
that came almost to her knees. Tom took a deep
breath to say hello but he was too
late.
‘Max... MAX... don’t go near the
sea. I mean it!’ she bellowed, skidding straight
into Tom as she chased the boy
across the pebbles. ‘Sorry, sorry… have I hurt you?
Is your painting wrecked? Oh – wow;
it’s good, isn’t it? You can tell it’s meant to be
the pier. I’m really, really sorry…’
Tom picked himself up and put his
painting chair the right way up again. ‘Hey, it’s
okay – you can fall over me any
time,’ he said, grinning into her startlingly green
eyes.
She blinked and looked away, her
lovely face matching the colour of her
sweater. Shielding her eyes with a
hand, she scanned the beach for the boy.
‘Where’s he gone, the little toad?
Ah, there he is, he’s making something out of a
heap of stones – at least he’s not
paddling fully dressed like last time. Oh hell, you
don’t even know me and I’ve already
wrecked your work. I’m Molly. I think I’ve seen
you here before, haven’t I? Let me
fix your painting.’
She bent down to see if she could
repair the damage and Tom held out a hand
to stop her trying to brush bits of
stone off his picture. ‘No, honestly, it’s fine, I’ll sort it
out. I’m Tom, and I’ve seen you,
too. You’re easy to remember.’
‘Am I? Why?’
‘Lots of reasons – you often seem to
be in a hurry, you always wear something
red, you’ve got lots of kids, you’re
gorgeous…’ Tom stopped in confusion.
‘Gorgeous? Me? Do you need your eyes
testing or something?’ Molly blushed
again and looked at him properly for
the first time. ‘I’m sorry, that was really rude,’
she said. ‘My mum’s always telling
me I don’t know how to take a compliment.’
‘Don’t worry, maybe you just need a
bit more practice.’ Tom bent to carry on
sorting his painting kit out. He
couldn’t help noticing how her eyes rested on his
forearms as he finished tidying up
and, clearly aware of his scrutiny, she reddened
even more.
‘You’re very strong, aren’t you?’
she blurted out.
Tom laughed. ‘I guess I have to be,
don’t I? If you’ve seen me before, you’ll
know why.’
‘I don’t want you to think I’ve been
staring at you, Tom. It’s just that you’re…
um… different to most of the men
round here.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Tom slung his
bag over one shoulder and heaved himself out
of his folding chair.
‘Can I help you at all?’ Molly
asked, standing on tiptoes to get a better view of
the shoreline. ‘Oh look, here are
the other two Musketeers. They can carry
something for you, if you like.’
‘I don’t need any help, thanks.’ Tom
bit back the familiar feeling of irritation and
smiled up at a pair of girls,
dressed entirely in black, who had stopped next to him.
The taller one had multiple
piercings. Both girls were scowling.
‘Mum, what are you like?’ said the
pierced one. ‘We saw you knock the paints all
over the place. You’re so clumsy.
Have you seen what Max is doing now?’
Molly looked again. The small boy
had been jumping off his pile of stones and
had landed awkwardly the last time.
He began to wail. ‘Max! I told you last time not
to do that. Hang on, I’m coming,’
Molly shouted.
The girls sighed and rolled their
eyes at Tom as they watched their mum slither
off over the stones to the sandy
stretch by the sea, where Max was now hurling the
biggest rocks he could find into the
waves. The pierced girl turned to the smaller one.
‘Bloody hell, why doesn’t she just
leave him alone for a bit? The only place he
can go is into the sea.’
‘But he’s only little – he can’t
swim.’
‘Exactly.’ The older girl smirked as
they wandered off down the beach.
Tom sighed. Another opportunity
lost; still no nearer to finding out more about his dream woman. Oh well, at
least he knew her name now. On the other hand, it didn’t
take a genius to work out that she
was already taken. The wedding ring gave it
away, even if the children didn’t.
Author Bio:
Celia J Anderson spends most of her spare time writing in as
many different genres as possible, including children’s fiction. In her other
life, she’s Assistant Headteacher at a small Catholic primary school in the
Midlands and loves teaching literature (now comfortingly called English again
but still the best subject in the world.)
She tried a variety of random jobs before discovering that
the careers advisor at secondary school was right, including running crèches,
childminding, teaching children to ride bikes (having omitted to mention she
couldn’t do it herself) and a stint in mental health care. All these were ideal
preparation for the classroom and provided huge amounts of copy for the books
that were to come.
Celia enjoys cooking and eating in equal measures, and
thinks life without wine would be a sad thing indeed. She is married, with two
grown up daughters who have defected to the seaside. One day she plans to scoop
up husband and cats and join them there.
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