Page 1 of Valentine Nook
Prologue
LANDO
There’s nowhere more beautiful than the English countryside.
Rolling green hills, horses gently grazing in the fields, a brook babbling somewhere in the distance, and the familiar twitter of birds in their nests—it’s the perfect antidote to a few days spent in London.
Every time I arrive back home, I only need to take a deep breath of country air and saddle up my horse, Thunder, for the tension in my shoulders to melt away to nothing.
Nottoday.
It all started an hour ago as I was driving under the old stone arch—the wordsamor principumcarved into its center. It marks the threshold to the village of Valentine Nook, one of the oldest villages in Oxfordshire, the heart of the countryside, and has belonged to my family for five hundred years.
Often described as the most beautiful and romantic place inEngland, it’s believed Valentine Nook is where you will meet your true love. According to legend, it’s where Cupid was conceived—hence its name. Cupid’s parents—the gods Venus and Mars—popped down for a tryst near an ancient glen on the outskirts of the village, and nine happy months later, Cupid made his entrance.
The concept of love has never been the same.
Just like my family, the people who live in Valentine Nook have been here for generations too.
There’s Leon & Daughters, the local butcher who used to be Leon & Sons when his grandfather owned the place, but after he married and had four girls, his eldest daughter made him change the name. Next door is the bakery, where the best sourdough east of San Francisco is made. People come from miles around to grab the early loaves on a Saturday morning, along with a coffee from the shop across the road.
Two pubs, The Cupid’s Arrow and The One True Love, stand at opposite ends of Valentine High Street, in constant,albeit friendly, competition, usually over who has the biggest blooms on their hanging baskets (Cupid’s Arrow), who makes the best pork pie (The One True Love), and who will win the annual Valentine Nook cricket match (currently 34-29 to The Cupid’s Arrow).
On the opposite side are the vets, where you’ll find my brother Hendricks when he’s not out helping to birth the new season’s cows or locating Mrs. Winston’s runaway goat.
There’s a church with the vicar who’s always running late because he misplaced his glasses, a fishmonger, a beauty salon, and the village store—The Valentine Cook, which stocks everything you could possibly need, plus anything you didn’t realize you needed.
At the other end of the high street, to the stone arch, stands the fountain where year-round visitors come to throw in coins and make a wish that they’ll finally meet their soulmate.
All the money collected from the fountain goes toward paying for the upkeep of the village—keeping the rose bushes and flower beds tidy, the cricket pitch in good shape, and the hedgerows trimmed. The lampposts, fences, and buildings all receive a regular lick of fresh paint. It finances the summer fair, taking place in a couple of weeks, the Christmas fair in December, and the Halloween party for all the local children.
It won’t come as any surprise to hear the majority of funds go toward Valentine’s Day. Because Valentine’s Day in Valentine Nook is . . . well, I’m sure you can imagine.
I don’t think you’d find a more perfect village.
It’s my favorite place in the world.
Unfortunately, Valentine Nook is also home to Agatha Chase,a self-proclaimed high witch specializing in the services of love, and like everyone else here, her family has a long-standing history.
She owns Agatha Chase’s Love Emporium, where she brews potions and spells that she believes will summon your soulmate. She gives readings, she hosts full moon parties, and if you’re not careful, she’ll drag you into her store and try to cleanse you with crystals.
If I didn’t think the villagers would riot, I’d have evicted her years ago. But annoyingly, Agatha’s good for the local economy.
Love is a powerful motivator for spending.
The people throwing coins in the fountain are mostly here because they’re visiting Agatha. Once they’re done, they drink at the pub or grab lunch from Mary’s Sandwich Shop and buy a tea towel or tote bag from the village store that says they came to Cupid’s birthplace. Sometimes if they’re lucky enough to get a room, there’s Mr. and Mrs. Kilpatrick’s delightful bed-and-breakfast, though it’s always booked up six months in advance, a year if you want to come in February.
I forgot to mention Valentine Nook is the number one place to propose marriage.
But mostly, people come for Agatha.
When my father was alive, he used to think she added a bit of fun. Idon’tshare his opinion. In fact, after Agatha once told me that I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life, I’ve avoided her at all costs.
It’s ironic that the grumpy, cynical man doomed to be single forever owns the most romantic village in England, isn’t it?
I used to think it was all nonsense. More recently, I’ve been wondering if she was right because six months ago, on the night before my wedding, I found my fiancée and my best friend in a position they should never have been in . . .with each other.
I’ve spent the time since trying to erase the view of Jeremy’s naked arse and the sound of Caroline’s moans from my brain.
