Here’s a little about the book…
Can an island in the sun provide the second chance Sara needs?
A warm and uplifting novel about love, friendship and new beginnings on the beautiful Greek island of Santaniki.
Sara Loveday flees home and crisis to the beautiful island of Santaniki. Here, amid olive groves and whitewashed stone villas, where dark cypress trees step down to a cobalt blue sea, Sara vows to change her life. Spotting a gap in the local tourist market, she sets up a wedding plan business, specialising in ‘second time around’ couples.
For her first big wedding, she borrows the olive garden of a local artists’ retreat, but almost at once things begin to go wrong. To make matters worse, a stranger from Sara’s past arrives on the island, spreading vicious lies. Can her business survive? And what will happen with the gorgeous new man who she’s begun to love?
This is a gorgeous, warm-hearted and uplifting novel conjuring the local colour, traditions and close bonds of island life.
To celebrate the release of A Wedding in the Olive Garden, Leah and Head of Zeus have shared an extract today. Enjoy.
***** beginning of extract*****
The fan in the taverna kitchen did nothing to cool tempers as Mel Papadaki was giving her husband Spiro an earful. ‘Do you call this clean? Look at those stains. Mama will have a fit to see such a mess in here… Can I not leave you five minutes to water the pavement…’
‘Enough, woman!’ Spiro threw off his apron. ‘If you can do better, I’m off. The ferry is due and I have passengers and wine to collect. We need more—’
‘So you can drink it?’ Mel yelled back. She could give as good as she got. The fiery Italian half of her could shout with the best of them. She was in no mood to compromise, with his mother Irini sick, no doubt listening into their arguments with glee. Spiro could do no wrong in her eyes.
She wiped the sweat off her brow as the hairnet scratched her forehead. The Santaniki heatwave was unbearable. Oh, to be cooling in Yorkshire drizzle than trying to cook and clean, up and down stairs at Irini’s command while Spiro swanned off to the harbour for a smoke. Yes, she knew he was back on the fags behind her back. It had been a tough winter with storms and little work for a builder. Times were tough for Greece. At least their own house was almost finished but cash was tight. He was at a loose end and touchy. Too many fry-ups thickening his waistline. Much as she loved the bones of him, he was letting himself go.
Mel stared at the pile of fresh tomatoes, peppers, courgettes and onions she had picked from their vegetable garden ready to make a cooling gazpacho. Irini came down to inspect the menus and threw out her suggestion with a wave of her hand. ‘That’s not Greek food. You cannot serve that.’
‘But English customers will love something cool and refreshing like this,’ Mel argued.
‘We are not serving that today,’ Irini muttered and that was that. A Sheffield girl married to a Cretan was never going to be easy but she would bloody well make a batch for her and the boys for lunch later. Loading the dishwasher, she heard her mobile ring. What did he want now? It was a garbled message about a booking but the signal was weak so she stepped outside in the square to catch the details.
There was a young woman trundling her suitcase uphill without a sun hat, pausing to look at her map. ‘Can I help?’ she shouted but the woman carried on, her eyes focused on her task, not hearing her. Ah well. Mel sighed. She was probably Scandinavian or Dutch with little English, she thought, turning back out of the sun, thinking no more about it. Then Spiro’s horn honked as his passengers spilled out of the taxi for a quick snack. There was Don Ford, twice as large and full of his usual sparkle.
‘Melodia, kalispera, it’s good to be back!’ He gave her a bear hug. ‘Just as beautiful as ever… and Irini? I hear she has been unwell…’
***** end of extract*****
After careers in teaching, catering, running a market stall, stress management courses in the NHS as well as being a mother of four, Leah Fleming found her true calling as a storyteller. She lives in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales but spends part of the year marinating her next tale from an olive grove on her favourite island of Crete.