The True Love Travels Series Box Set
Page 1
The True Love Travels Box Set
Books One–Five
Poppy Pennington-Smith
True Love Travels
Love in The Highlands
Love in the Rockies
Love in Provence
Love in Tuscany
Love at Christmas
Love in the Alps: Subscriber Exclusive
First published 2020 by Bewick Press Ltd.
BEWICK PRESS LTD, JULY 2020
Copyright © 2020 Poppy Pennington-Smith.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Bewick Press Ltd. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.bewickpress.com
www.poppypennington.com
Contents
I. Love in the Highlands
BLURB
1. Rachel
2. Max
3. Rachel
4. Max
5. Rachel
6. Max
7. Rachel
8. Max
9. Rachel
10. Max
11. Rachel
12. Max
13. Rachel
14. Max
15. Rachel
16. Max
17. Rachel
18. Max
19. Rachel
20. Max
21. Rachel
22. Max
23. Rachel
24. Max
25. Rachel
26. Max
27. Rachel
28. Max
29. Rachel
30. Max
31. Rachel
32. Max
33. Rachel
34. Max
35. Rachel
36. Max
Epilogue
II. Love in the Rockies
BLURB
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
III. Love in Provence
BLURB
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Fifteen Years Ago…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
IV. Love in Tuscany
BLURB
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
V. Love at Christmas
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Thank you!
About Poppy
BLURB
Isolated with her bodyguard in the Scottish Highlands.
Rachel French has never considered herself famous, despite the fact that she’s a best-selling author.
But when one of her books is turned into a hit T.V. show, she is thrust into the spotlight and ends up very much in the public eye. Just a few weeks later, she begins to receive worrying letters from an anonymous admirer.
At a remote cottage in the Scottish Highlands, Rachel’s father sends a private bodyguard to watch over her – the enigmatic ex-detective Max Bernstein.
At first, Max is all business. He is distant, aloof, and not a fan of writers like Rachel. Max’s dog Brandi, however, falls for Rachel immediately.
As the weeks roll on, and Max and Rachel begin to explore the stunning Scottish countryside surrounding their cottage, Rachel starts to fall for Max. But does he feel the same?
Will Rachel soften Max’s tough exterior and find a way into his heart? Or will he play by the rules and refuse to let her get close to him?
1
Rachel
As she watched the city landscape fade into the distance, Rachel’s heart was pounding. She knew she was heading to safety, but her body wasn’t quite getting the message.
Beyond the train’s window, towns and villages turned into wide open spaces, fields, trees, cows, and sheep. Rachel took out her phone and texted her father.
RACHEL: On the way. Should arrive at three thirty-five.
DAD: Good. It’ll be okay, Rach. The guy I’ve hired is the best. I’m sending his picture now but, if you’re worried, just ask him what we ate on the beach the day the seagull stole your mother’s purse – he’ll know the answer. His name is Max Bernstein. He’ll have I.D.
Rachel sighed and read the message through several times; she felt as if she was living in one of her own novels. She’d been writing best-selling crime books for over ten years and, until a few months ago, she’d been successful but not very well known.
Then, suddenly, one of her books had been optioned for T.V. and it had thrust her into the spotlight.
Rachel shuddered as she thought about her first appearance on daytime television, and how things might have gone differently if she’d only turned it down.
If she’d said no, she wouldn’t have been splashed all over the newspapers. If she’d said no, the anonymous man who’d begun stalking her every move would nev
er have seen her and would never have had the chance to become obsessed with her.
If she’d said no, she wouldn’t be fleeing her beautiful home in London to hide herself away in the Scottish countryside.
Rachel closed her eyes and tried not to think about ‘what ifs’. Instead, she thought about her father and how – as always – he’d stepped in and offered to help her.
Ever since her mum died, her father had been her rock. And now he’d rented her a cottage and hired a private bodyguard to watch over her until the ‘entire nasty business’ was sorted out. She was trying to think of it as a writing retreat; a way to escape from her normal routine and finish her next book. Normally, the idea of having uninterrupted time to write would fill her with excitement. But now, knowing it was indefinite, and that she didn’t know when or if her stalker would be tracked down, she simply felt sad.
Sad that she wouldn’t see her friends. Sad that her cat had been shipped off to her sister’s house. And sad that the text flirtation she’d started with her next-door neighbour Pete would now be put on hold.
Taking a deep breath and flipping open her iPad, Rachel tried to concentrate on the notes she’d made for book twelve in her Rogue Detective series. But as the train rumbled on, she couldn’t help wondering whether she’d brought all of this on herself. If she’d only been satisfied with being a writer. If she hadn’t gone chasing a television deal. Then everything would still be normal.
At the station, Rachel disembarked the train and stood awkwardly on the small, deserted platform. Three others got off the train too and dragged their suitcases past her, towards the turnstiles at the exit.
It was a tiny station, stuck out on a limb in the middle of hills and fields as if it had been put there by accident. Rachel had never been to Scotland before, let alone the Highlands – probably the furthest away from London you could get without leaving the U.K – and she immediately wondered whether she’d packed enough sweaters.
The sky was grey. Mizzle hung in the air. Immediately, Rachel wanted to go home.
Forcing herself to move, she took a deep breath and wheeled her case towards the exit. On the other side of the turnstiles was a small vacant room with a closed ticket desk and one solitary wooden bench. Rachel sat down and checked the message her father had sent; he’d said that Max Bernstein would be waiting for her. Surely, as a paid bodyguard, it was a pretty poor show to be late.
But then she realised that a shadow had fallen over her.
“Rachel French?” The voice that spoke was deep and gruff.
Rachel looked up. Max Bernstein towered over her. Enormously tall with thick shoulders and muscular arms, he was wearing a high-necked wool sweater and slacks. She’d expected a suit, like in his photo. And yet he was still unmistakably the man her father had hired.
“Hi.” Rachel stood up and smiled, extending her hand.
Max Bernstein didn’t take it. Instead, he presented his I.D. then said, “I believe you have a question for me?”
Rachel frowned. Then remembered. “It’s okay, you look just like your photo.”
Max remained expressionless.
“Okay. What did we eat the day my father, my mother, and I went to the beach? The day we were attacked by a seagull?”
“You had a picnic. A chocolate picnic. Your mother always prepared this treat on special occasions.”
Rachel smiled at the memory and nodded. “That’s right. Spot on. So, shall we...?” She glanced behind Max towards the doors.
“Yes. We should.” Max took her case and gestured for her to go in front. “This is ours,” he said, unlocking a large black truck. “The cottage is a thirty-minute drive from here. Quite secluded. A good choice.”
Rachel nodded. “And you’ll be staying with me the whole time?”
“I will.”
“Well, thank you. I know it’s probably not the most interesting job you’ve ever been offered.” Rachel tried to smile, hoping it might lighten the frosty atmosphere that had settled between them.
But Max Bernstein didn’t reciprocate. “A job is a job, Miss French,” he said, staring straight ahead with steely, dark brown eyes. “A job is a job.”
2
Max
“The coffee here is terrible.” Max sat back in his chair and folded his arms. His friend Tyler grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry, dude.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “Ty, what’s all this about?”
Tyler shrugged. “I might have a job for you. If you want it.”
Almost immediately, Max began to get up from the table but Tyler reached out and took hold of his arm.
“Just hear me out.”
Max bit the inside of his cheek and tried to maintain his composure. For months, ever since Max quit the police force, Tyler had been offering him jobs that he didn’t want to take.
Straight out of university, they’d both trained as police officers. But while Max had worked his way up to become a detective, Tyler had quit and started his own security business. These days, Tyler’s firm provided security for anyone with enough money to pay for it.
And Max hated the idea.
He’d always resented the notion that the wealthy could somehow buy their way to better protection than the average citizen; it was part of why he’d joined the police in the first place – to look after normal, every-day folk who were in need.
But now, his resolve was weakening. He was out of money and almost out of time before he found himself homeless.
So, instead of walking away, he found himself saying, “Alright. I’ll give you two minutes. Sell it to me.”
Again, Tyler grinned. Both in their early forties, Tyler still looked young and mischievous whereas Max had hair that was beginning to grey around the edges and too many lines at the corners of his eyes. “It’s a real easy one. Some big-time writer has gotten herself a stalker. Anonymous letters, kidnap threats, nothing more sinister than that but the family has money and Daddy Dearest is insisting that she goes and hides herself away until the whole thing is resolved.”
“You want me to track down the stalker?” Despite himself, Max’s interest was piqued.
Tyler laughed and shook his head. “No, no. We’ll do that. The firm.”
“So...”
“The father has hired a cottage. He wants the daughter to hide out there and he wants a bodyguard stationed with her twenty-four-seven while we work on finding the stalker.”
Max felt his expression fold into one of severe distaste. “So, you want me to go be her glorified babysitter?”
Tyler shrugged. “Pretty much.”
A few weeks ago, Max would have said no without even a second thought. But now, all he could see was his dwindling bank balance and the demand notices from the credit card company that had started piling up on his doormat. “How much?”
“Two grand.”
Max almost laughed. “Two grand? Tyler, you’ve got to be kidding me...” Two thousand pounds wouldn’t cover half of what he owed.
Tyler shook his head. “Two grand a week. And I’d say we’re looking at, well, at least six weeks. If not more.”
Max breathed in sharply through his nose. His heart was beating faster than normal. He wanted to say no. He wanted to get up and walk away. But he knew he wouldn’t.
Tyler slid a dark blue file across the table. “This might help you make up your mind,” he said, with a glint in his eye.
Max opened the folder. Inside, on a loose sheet of paper, was a woman’s photograph. A woman who was, quite possibly, the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Max felt his eyebrows tweak upwards.
“I can see why she’d become the object of someone’s attention,” he said quietly.