Come Rain or Shine: the BRAND NEW completely heartwarming, romantic read from Sarah Bennett for 2024

By Sarah Bennett

'Warm, joyful and utterly gorgeous - I loved it!' Celia Anderson

There are worse fates than growing up knowing that you will one day inherit a vast and magnificent Cotswolds country estate, but for Rhys Travers it has always felt like a huge responsibility.

Juniper Meadows is home to much of his extended family, not to mention the many local businesses that operate on the estate, so there’s no time to sit back and enjoy the view. Juniper Meadows is a full-time job, and that doesn’t leave much time for romance…

Tasha Blake’s career leaves no time for romance either – much to her mother’s chagrin. Tasha’s sister Danni has kindly provided two grandchildren, but Victoria Blake is keen for more! When her job takes her to Juniper Meadows for an extended project, the slower pace of life, the beauty of the countryside and the warmth of the Travers family, soon has Tasha in its thrall, and the future Lord of the Manor Rhys Travers is rather easy on the eye too.

As the busyness of life on the estate sweeps Tasha and Rhys along, they are both able to ignore the secrets and silences that are growing between them. But when the future of Juniper Meadows hangs in the balance, loyalties and love are tested to breaking point. When the chips are down, can Rhys and Tasha see a future together, come rain or shine…

Sarah Bennett is back with her signature blend of warmth and joy, plot and pace. A Sarah Bennett book is a ray of sunshine and a huge hug, guaranteed to brighten any day, perfect for all fans of Cathy Bramley, Katie Fforde and Phillipa Ashley.

Praise for the Juniper Meadows series:

'Juniper Meadows is one of my favourite places to visit and revisit. Life there continues to be complex and enthralling. The sparkling cast of characters and stunning setting make this a fast-paced, deeply romantic adventure for Tasha, as she braves the fascinating minefield of family dynamics and relationships. Warm, joyful and utterly gorgeous - I loved it! Celia Anderson

'A perfect read to cosy up with at this time of year. Complex family relationships are explored with love and sensitivity and in a way that keeps you turning the pages. Full of friends and family and the meaning of love in all its different forms' Katie Ginger

‘I inhaled this book in two days. Absolutely gorgeous. Sarah Bennett is back, and better than ever!’ Rachel Burton

'A perfect heartwarming read full of family, romance and intrigue, set in a stunning location - what’s not to love?' Bella Osborne

'In From The Cold' is a cleverly woven tale of family in all its many meanings; emotional, heart-breaking but ultimately uplifting, I can’t wait to see where Sarah Bennett takes us next.' Alexandra Walsh

'In From the Cold is a joyful, intriguing story of intertwining relationships whose ripples spread throughout a community... Moving, witty and atmospheric, the story bowls along at a cracking pace, delivering a generous supply of romance along with the gin. I loved it! More, please.' Celia Anderson

Readers love Sarah Bennett:

‘Absolutely loved this book from start to finish the storyline covered everything I didn't want it to finish, I do hope there is going to be a third instalment’

‘I think this could well be some of Sarah Bennett’s best writing to date. She has a captivating way with words, and also gets some lovely humour in there too. What Sarah Bennett excels at, is creating settings. From her previous books, Lavender Bay and Mermaids Point, are both settings that have stuck in my heart. Juniper Meadows has now joined them. It’s just so damn lovely, and quite honestly, I want to go there and never leave!’

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boldwood Books
• Release date: Mar 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9781804833278

Sarah Bennett

Sarah Bennett is the bestselling author of several romantic fiction trilogies including those set in Butterfly Cove and Lavender Bay. Born and raised in a military family she is happily married to her own Officer and when not reading or writing enjoys sailing the high seas.

Book preview

1

‘Where have you been, Natasha?’ The feathers on her mother’s fascinator bristled in echo of the indignation in her words as Tasha Blake climbed out of her car next to the pretty stone church that served the village community of Little Nedling. It was more a squeeze than a climb as the car park was packed to overflowing and the only space Tasha had been able to find was next to a Mercedes estate with two wheels over the white line. She breathed in as she inched her way out of her much smaller hatchback, wishing she’d found the time to take a trip through the car wash. The last thing she wanted was to be standing at the font later with a dirty smear across her backside.

The last thing she wanted was to be standing at the font, full stop, especially on Valentine’s Day, but refusing her sister Danielle’s invitation to be godmother to her second child would have seen her ostracised from the family for good. ‘Mind your clothes!’ Victoria Blake’s tone was even sharper as her unforgiving gaze swept her daughter from head to toe.

‘I am minding my clothes,’ Tasha responded through gritted teeth. ‘If whoever owns this monstrosity hadn’t parked so badly, I wouldn’t have to mind them, would I?’

‘If you’d arrived in good time, you would’ve had your choice of parking spaces. Now come here and let me look at you.’ Tasha closed her eyes for a second as she swallowed down a retort. There was no point in saying anything about the horrendous journey she’d fought around the M25 and along the A12 thanks to several accidents caused by the awful weather, because her mother would simply point out she should’ve travelled down the night before. Telling her mother she couldn’t have come down because she was working would only have opened another can of worms about her prioritising her job over her family, especially at the weekend.

Her mother always had an answer for everything, and they had a long day ahead. If they started fighting, the waterworks would be next, and Tasha would be to blame for spoiling Danielle’s special day. So she held her peace and silently counted the hours until she’d be able to escape back to Reading while her mother brushed the back of her blouse as if she were a grubby child.

‘Did you have to wear trousers?’ Victoria grumbled. ‘I can’t remember the last time I saw you in a dress.’

Couldn’t she?

Tasha could remember it as if it were yesterday. She’d been standing on a platform in the bridal shop while the dressmaker pinned and tucked and adjusted the gown that had later adorned a charity shop window after Tasha had caught her fiancé in bed with his ex-girlfriend three weeks before their wedding. A wedding that – like every other milestone occasion for generations of their family – had been due to be held in this very church in the heart of the Suffolk countryside.

‘I didn’t want to be cold,’ Tasha replied, keeping her tone light. If her mother was going to pretend all of this was fine, then she was more than happy to play along. The sun was shining, a pleasant contrast to the torrential rain she’d battled through for most of her journey, but there was little warmth in it. As though to underline her point, the February wind made itself known as it whistled across the car park and sent the feathers and net bow pinned to her mother’s head dancing. Should’ve bought a thermal vest while I was at it. She’d chosen the pale pink suit somewhat against her better judgement, thanks to a persuasive sales assistant who’d assured her it was the perfect choice for a christening.

There must’ve been something wrong with the lighting in the changing room, because when she’d put it on that morning Tasha had realised the colour did not suit her ginger hair. At all. She’d surveyed her wardrobe in a panic, but all her other suits were dark, sensible business wear. The handful of dresses she owned were the kind you accessorised with a cocktail while sitting at a beachside bar, and were either too short or too low-cut for church. Using half a bottle of curl-tamer, she’d managed to coax her hair into a sleek, severe twist at the nape of her neck, and had softened the look with a couple of flower slides she’d picked up in an accessory shop. Escaping her mother’s clutches, Tasha reached into the back seat and managed to retrieve her jacket without incident.

‘No hat?’

‘Stop fussing, Mum, please.’ Tasha locked her car and slid the keys into her jacket pocket. At least wearing a suit meant she hadn’t needed to worry about finding a handbag to match her outfit. She wasn’t a handbag type of woman, much preferring the practicality of the small Kipling rucksack she used for work, and, well, for everything else really.

‘I’ve brought a spare one with me, I’ll fetch it from the car. Give me two ticks.’

‘I think people are going in,’ Tasha called after her mother’s retreating back even though the people milling around outside the church showed no sign of it. She watched Victoria for a few more seconds before breaking into a jog to catch up with her. ‘The flowers will be fine, Mum. Leave it.’

‘Nonsense, you want to look your best for the photos, don’t you?’ Her mother turned to wave an imperious hand towards where Tasha’s father was chatting with a group of guests. ‘Adrian! I need the keys.’

Barely breaking eye-contact with the man next to him, her dad pulled the remote from his pocket and pointed it at the back of the BMW. The lights flashed in unison with the clunk of the locks. Her mother opened the boot and rooted around in a large John Lewis carrier bag before pulling out what looked like the remains of a dead chicken. She tried to hand it to Tasha, who shoved her hands quickly in her pockets as she backed up a step. ‘No way am I wearing that.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ The feathers on Victoria’s almost matching fascinator quivered again.

‘Nothing,’ Tasha replied, hastily. ‘It’s lovely, it’s just not me.’

Her mother’s sigh was one Tasha knew all too well. Victoria Blake was wondering yet again how she’d managed to raise two daughters so close in age and yet so radically different. ‘Everyone suits a fascinator, darling, that’s the whole point of them.’

Tasha shot a look of appeal across the car park to where her father was still chatting away. Rather than coming to her rescue, he sent her a cheery wave before bending down to scoop up the small boy who was charging past waving what looked like half a tree branch. Mason was Danielle’s son and had rolled right past the terrible twos, through the tempestuous threes and was deeply embedded in the fucking-awful fours. To Tasha’s mind, her sister would’ve been better to have named him Damien, but he was the apple of his grandfather’s eye. As though to prove her point, her dad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of sweets, which he traded for Mason’s weapon of choice. What a marvellous idea to fill him full of sugar just before he would be expected to sit quietly through a service where his new baby sister would be the centre of attention. Seizing the opportunity to distract her mother, Tasha rearranged her features into an exaggerated frown. ‘I thought Danni was trying to restrict Mason’s sugar intake…’

Her mother’s head whipped around, and she gave an outraged squawk as she thrust the fascinator towards Tasha. ‘Adrian! Adrian!’ Victoria’s heels beat a staccato rhythm across the car park as she marched towards her startled husband. He cast a baleful look at Tasha, who grinned and waved. Serves you right. Still smiling, she tossed the hideous fascinator back into the boot and pulled it shut with a firm click. Knowing it wouldn’t take long for her mother’s attention to wheel back in her direction, Tasha made a break for it and hurried over to where her sister was holding court on the steps of the church.

She knew it was clichéd to say that new mothers had a glow about them, but Danielle looked positively radiant. The skirt of her long-sleeved navy dress fell from the empire-line beneath the bosom in a forgiving wave of narrow pleats that neatly disguised any post-pregnancy weight she might still be carrying around her waist and hips. Pretty white daisies decorated the dark background, adding a sunny touch. In her arms, baby Luna snoozed contentedly in a froth of lace that might once have been cream but was now golden with age. Somewhere in the collection of photographs that littered the walls and surfaces of her parents’ home were pictures of a beaming Victoria holding both Tasha and Danni dressed in that same family christening gown.

As Tasha approached, Danni’s hazel eyes lit up and a smile wreathed her face as she juggled the sleeping baby into one arm so she could wrap the other around Tasha’s shoulders. ‘Hello, you!’

‘Hello, you.’ Tasha hugged her back, careful to arch her body so Luna wasn’t squashed between them. ‘You look bloody amazing.’ Releasing her hold, Tasha bent to drop the softest of kisses on Luna’s forehead then stepped back. ‘Hello, darling girl. I hope you are going to be good for your Aunty Tasha today.’

‘With any luck, she’ll sleep right through.’ They exchanged a rueful look and Tasha could tell her sister was recalling how an outraged, red-faced Mason had objected to the vicar dripping water on his forehead by unleashing the kind of hideous poomageddon only very small babies were capable of. Thankfully, Tasha had been excused godparent duties in favour of Danni’s brother and sister-in-law, but even sitting in the second row of pews the smell had been enough to turn her stomach.

‘You look very…’ Danni trailed off with a shrug and a smile as she surveyed Tasha’s outfit.

‘Pink,’ Tasha said with a laugh. Danni had always been the one with style and, though she was the youngest by eighteen months, she’d declared her older sister an absolute fashion disaster when they were teenagers and had insisted on taking charge of her wardrobe. More interested in books than boys, Tasha had shrugged and let Danni get on with it. It was something Danni enjoyed and it had saved Tasha the bother, so a win-win as far as she’d been concerned. ‘You know I can’t be trusted in a shop on my own.’

Danni grinned. ‘You let the assistant bully you, again, didn’t you?’ She brushed a hand over the lapel. ‘The fit is great on you.’ Her gaze lifted. ‘And I love your hair like that; very chic.’ Bless her sister for always finding a way to make Tasha feel good about herself. Danni shifted closer, her body turning to block the other people standing on the step as she lowered her voice to whisper, ‘I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to be Luna’s godmother. I know I’m asking a lot of you.’

Tasha pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek, her heart swelling with love. They might be like chalk and cheese, but Danni and she were lucky to be the best of friends as well as sisters. ‘It’s my absolute honour. And as for everything else…’ Tasha forced herself to look past her sister to where Danni’s husband, Stuart, was chatting to a group of his friends, including the man who was going to be Luna’s godfather. ‘That’s all water under the bridge.’

‘Oh, I know that, but it’s still putting you in an awkward position, but Jonny is Stuart’s best friend…’ The last words were said in a tone that begged for both forgiveness and understanding.

‘It’s fine.’ Tasha cupped her sister’s cheek so she could hold her gaze. ‘And it’s not going to be awkward, because I’m not going to let it be.’ She’d sworn she’d never let Jonny Roberts hurt her again and, though it had taken a few years for the embarrassment and hurt to fade, Tasha had no regrets about where her life had ended up. She pecked one more kiss on Danni’s cheek then moved around her, holding her arms open as she approached her brother-in-law. ‘Hello, Stu.’

‘Tash! You made it. I must say I was a bit worried when I saw the forecast this morning. Was it horrendous?’ Stuart swept her into a bear hug, pulling her close so Tasha ended up on her tiptoes. He was an affectionate, warm-hearted man, always ready with a hug and a smile, and Tasha adored him because he made Danni so happy.

‘Put me down before you wrinkle me,’ Tasha said, fending him off with a laugh as he smacked a big kiss on her cheek. ‘The rain was awful for the first hour, but once I got off the motorway, it cheered up.’ She lifted her eyes to check the sky, but there was no sign of the dark clouds that had dogged the first part of her journey. ‘Let’s hope it stays like this for the rest of the day.’

‘From your lips to the ears of the weather gods or we’ll be hanging onto the marquee trying to stop it from blowing away.’ Stuart slung a friendly arm around her shoulders. ‘You staying with the parental units tonight?’

‘Like they’d let me stay anywhere else,’ Tasha replied with a laugh. ‘I warned Mum I have to be up at stupid o’clock tomorrow to get back to work in time for the Monday morning team meeting, but you know she’ll still be up before me making sure I have breakfast before I leave.’ It wasn’t a complaint. For all she drove Tasha mad with her endless fussing, everything her mum did for her came from a place of love. She just wished sometimes that love came with a similar level of acceptance.

Stuart grinned. ‘We told your folks we would be happy to hire the parish hall for the party today and I thought your mum’s head might explode at the suggestion.’

‘Well, your parents hosted Mason’s party, so I guess they wanted to make sure they’re doing their bit.’ It had made sense for the O’Neills to take the lead then because Stuart’s older brother and sister-in-law had been chosen as Mason’s godparents, but her mother was the queen of hosting parties and there was no way she would let the opportunity pass her by twice.

‘I know.’ He leaned in closer and whispered in Tasha’s ear. ‘Don’t ever have kids, Tash, because your life will never be your own again.’ When he leaned back he was still smiling, but Tasha knew him well enough to catch the tension around the edges of his mouth. Unlike Tasha, who’d had the sense to move away, both Stu and Danni had chosen to return home after university, finding jobs and a small place in Ipswich that had allowed them to save up until a property had become available in the village. Tasha’s parents had kicked in a chunk of cash to help with the deposit. They’d offered to do the same for Tasha but she’d told them she preferred to stand on her own two feet. Although that had been part of it, she’d known that if she agreed then the pressure would start for her to find somewhere in the local area, and she definitely preferred to keep her distance. She’d got a good deal on a rental property through her job and that suited her just fine.

‘Chin up,’ she said, giving her brother-in-law a consoling pat on the shoulder. ‘It’s only for another eighteen years or so.’

Stuart groan-laughed. ‘Ouch, Tash, that’s just mean.’ His face turned serious. ‘You okay about today?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Not you as well! Jonny and I are old history. He’s happy, I’m happy, the end.’

‘Did I hear my name?’ The man who Tasha once thought she’d spend the rest of her life with broke away from the rest of the group and turned to them with a familiar smile. His blue eyes still twinkled with the promise of adventures, the cowlick in his fringe still caused his blonde hair to part in a just-off-centre wave that had a tendency to flop into his eyes if he let it grow too long. His tall frame was still the same as when he’d held her long into the night as they whispered to each other their hopes and dreams for the future. And yet, he was like a stranger to her. Or perhaps he was the same old Jonny, and she was the one who’d changed. Either way, there was a moment’s pause where she waited for a flicker of that connection between them to reignite and nothing but relief when it didn’t.

‘I was just saying how happy I am to see you.’ The lie rolled easily off her tongue. She had forgiven him for what he’d done to her, if only because letting go of that painful episode had enabled her to move on, but they were never going to be friends. Tasha made a point of turning to include the woman hovering just behind Jonny’s shoulder in her welcoming smile. ‘It’s great to see both of you. You look well, Lauren.’

And fully clothed, which was always a bonus.

Tasha kept the little barb to herself while letting the black humour of it warm her inside. Forgiveness hadn’t turned her into a martyr. Holding the smile, she extended it to the little blonde angel holding tightly to her mother’s hand. ‘This can’t be Willow, can it? Goodness me, you are all grown up!’ The last time she’d seen Jonny and Lauren’s daughter she’d been not much more than a babe in arms at a New Year’s Eve party her parents had thrown. Somehow it had slipped her mother’s mind to mention she’d invited the Roberts clan. Then again, she’d invited the whole village so excluding them would’ve only set tongues wagging and Tasha had had more than enough of that to last her a lifetime.

‘Mummy’s got a baby in her tummy!’ Willow declared. The deep furrow etched between her brows said she wasn’t entirely enamoured with the idea.

Tasha felt the edges of her smile tighten just a little as Lauren tried and failed to shush her daughter while those around turned to call out their congratulations. Tasha didn’t need to look up to know more than one of those well-wishers would be training their hawklike gazes on her, waiting for a reaction. Not giving them a moment of satisfaction, Tasha kept her attention fixed on Willow. ‘Well, isn’t that lovely! Are you looking forward to having a baby brother or sister?’

‘No! I told Mummy to send it back.’

Tasha had to bite her lip and turn away before Willow saw her laughing. Unfortunately, the motion brought her face to face with Jonny, who was frowning in concern. ‘I’m sorry about that. We were trying to keep things quiet for now.’

Tasha raised her brows at that but refused the temptation to point out that expecting a small child to keep that kind of momentous news a secret was a bit stupid. Then again, Lauren had always loved to steal the limelight – she liked to steal a lot of things. Tasha pushed the mean thought away. Lauren wasn’t the one to blame, and, besides, she’d done Tasha a favour in the long run. ‘Why on earth would you think you need to apologise to me? What you and Lauren get up to is entirely your own business, but Danni might not be quite so forgiving.’

Jonny winced. ‘You still know how and where to stick the knife, don’t you, Tash?’

‘And you still seem confused about how little it matters to me what’s happening in your life. I’ll see you at the font, Jonny. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more people I need to say hello to before we start.’

2

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Rhys.’

Rhys quirked his lips into something approximating a smile at Martha Shaw’s enthusiastic greeting. ‘Thanks, Martha. Have you been inundated with cards and gifts from all your secret admirers?’

‘Oh, behave yourself!’ The middle-aged owner of Stourton-in-the-Vale’s village store rolled her eyes, but Rhys didn’t miss the way she grinned to herself as she turned back to the display fridge she was filling. Rhys had a lot of time for Martha and her husband, Joe, who had moved to the village five years earlier and taken over the then rather run-down shop. Tired of London life, they’d decided to take a risk and put their savings into a completely new venture. With an eye for what visitors to the area would like as well as providing a service to the local community, they’d expanded the shop into an empty building next door and now ran one of the most popular shops in the area. You could get everything from a daily paper and a pint of milk (including a variety of non-dairy options) to fresh lemongrass and dried fennel seeds.

‘Is Joe about?’ Rhys asked her as he helped himself to one of the baskets by the door and took out his phone to check the list his mother had dictated to him when he’d made the mistake of mentioning he was nipping out to the shop. He glanced down at the basket in his hand, back at the list and swapped the basket for one of the larger ones on wheels. Just a few bits, my arse.

‘He’s doing a few deliveries but shouldn’t be more than about ten minutes.’ Martha looked back over her shoulder.

‘On a Sunday? Business must be booming.’

Martha sighed. ‘If only. It’s the only way to compete with the big supermarkets though. If you’re in a hurry, I can get him to give you a call when he’s back.’

Rhys nodded. ‘It’s tough all around and I know us closing up early last summer didn’t help things.’

‘We know why your family did what they did, and no one around here blames you for it, Rhys. All we can do is hope for a peaceful and prosperous year that will benefit us all.’

It was good of her to say so, but Rhys still felt they’d failed the community by not finding a better way to head things off. ‘That’s certainly the plan. I’ll hang on a bit if you think Joe won’t be too long.’ Rhys held up his phone with a smile, hoping to lift the mood. ‘Besides, it’ll take me a while to find all this stuff Mum needs.’

Martha picked up the now-empty crate by her feet and placed it behind the counter before walking towards Rhys with a smile. ‘Why don’t you read the list out to me? It’ll be much quicker.’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’

Rhys followed Martha around the shop, reading out each item in turn. They criss-crossed the place half a dozen times, the list not in any order other than as things had occurred to his mum. He apologised when they ended up at the same section for the third time. ‘I should’ve organised my list a bit better.’

‘It’s fine. It’s not like we’re busy at the moment.’ Martha plucked a loaf of sourdough from the shelf and placed it in his basket. ‘What’s next?’

‘Coconut milk then fresh coriander and we’re done.’

‘That’s in the next aisle. So, how are things up at Juniper Meadows?’ she asked as she led him around to the next aisle then towards a display of fresh herbs and vegetables near the refrigerated section.

‘Busy, as always. Better now the snow’s cleared. Again.’ After a bright, mostly dry autumn, winter had arrived in the vale with a serious bang just before Christmas and dumped one load of snow after another. Just when they’d thought they’d got over the worst of it, another storm had blown through to coat the ground in yet another blanket of white. It might look beautiful if you were tucked up by the fire with a hot drink, but when you ran a farm it was an endless slog of wet boots, frozen fingers and stalled engines.

‘I think last weekend was supposed to be the last of it,’ Martha