Book Extract: The Little Campsite by the Sea by Elizabeth Holland

The Little Campsite by the Sea is a friends-to-lovers cosy romance set in North Wales. Beth and Rhys were childhood friends until something came between them. Before they could rekindle their relationship, Beth left for London. Now, a decade later, she’s home, and she’s not particularly happy to see Rhys again…

As he opened the gate, Rhys’s heart rate picked up. He could hear the thrumming in his ears, and his feet froze in place. Straight ahead, parked at the front of the house, was a car he hadn’t seen in a long time. He had many happy memories of being picked up in that car and driven back to the campsite. Although they weren’t talking at the time, Rhys had heard that on her seventeenth birthday, Evan had gifted his daughter the car. The woman he’d seen last night with her smile—had it really been Beth?

“There you are,” Carys called from the bench on the terrace. “I hope we’ve not put you out this evening.”

“It didn’t look like that from where I was sitting last night,” a voice called from the doorway.

Rhys’s heart whooshed in his ears, and the toolbox dropped from his clammy hands. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked up to meet her eyes. Last night, he convinced himself it couldn’t be her, but now, as he took her in, he didn’t know how he could have missed her. She still had the same beautiful, big eyes, which mirrored exactly what she was feeling. Today, they were clouded with apprehension as she made her own assessment of him. Her dyed blonde hair was slicked back into a low bun, and her mouth was set in a line.

“Last night was Gareth’s idea,” he said, his voice coming out gruff as he picked up the toolbox and the hammer that had fallen out.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Bethan’s voice cut through the air.

“Okay, kids. Enough,” Carys said from her perch. She’d shuffled forward on the seat, but hadn’t tried to stand. “Beth, could you show Rhys to the shower block? It’s too muddy down there for me to navigate with my crutches.”

Rhys tried to argue that he knew his way around, but Beth had already pulled on a pair of wellies and was marching off, leaving him trailing in her wake.

“When did you qualify as a plumber?” she asked as they picked their way through the thick, squelchy mud.

“I’m not qualified.”

“Then what are you doing here?” She stopped, whirling to face him and planting her hands on her hips.

Rhys almost barrelled into her. “Your mum called me.”

She frowned and, with that, turned on her heel.

“Does she call you often?” Her voice had lost its edge, and she sounded more like the Bethan he had once known.

Rhys chewed on his bottom lip. Should he tell her the truth? “Occasionally,” he muttered.

 “Rhys,” Beth all but growled out. She knew he was lying.

“A couple of times a week,” he muttered, and then backtracked as she shot him a worried look over her shoulder. “Maybe less some weeks.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. The self-assuredness had disappeared from her voice.