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    Guitars and Cupcakes
    Guitars and Cupcakes
    Guitars and Cupcakes
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Guitars and Cupcakes

    By Ella Grey

    ()

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    About this ebook

    It shouldn’t work...

    Clayton Heaton, a mechanic with a love of music, doesn’t believe in long term relationships. The girl who makes mouth-watering cookies is about to change his mind.

    Lily Collins, a baker with a past she can’t forget, can’t risk having her heart broken again. A man who sings from the soul is determined to prove to her that not all men are the same.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEvernight Publishing
    Release dateJan 18, 2015
    ISBN9781772331974
    Guitars and Cupcakes
    Author

    Ella Grey

    Ella Grey is an Australian writer with a bachelor’s degree and a hunger for romance. She can be found on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads and Smashwords.

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      Book preview

      Guitars and Cupcakes - Ella Grey

      Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

      www.evernightpublishing.com

      Copyright© 2015 Ella Grey

      ISBN: 978-1-77233-197-4

      Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

      Editor: Jessica Ruth

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      DEDICATION

      Thank you to all the people who helped me get Guitars and Cupcakes ready for publication. It hasn’t been an easy road and without you spurring me on, this story might have never been told.

      GUITARS AND CUPCAKES

      Ella Grey

      Copyright © 2015

      Chapter One

      The last time Clayton Heaton had played the guitar in front of a crowd, he’d been twenty-one, in his last year of University. He’d since placed it on the stand in his tiny living room and went from playing it regularly to barely touching it at all. The hours at the garage were long, and he came back home tired. He’d rather crack open a beer than play an instrument. On occasion he’d pick it up, tune it in and play. He lost hours strumming at the strings. The addictive quality of the music welcomed him back like an old lover. Every time that happened he promised himself that he would spend more time practicing. A promise he quickly forgot when he jumped onto his motorcycle and went back to work.

      This week had been particularly brutal. Rude customers expected him to perform miracles on cars they drove too hard and too fast. One guy had even taken a swing at him after Clayton gave him the bill. Clayton had ducked the blow and delivered a right hook that set the man onto his arse. When he threatened to call the cops, the other mechanics had been quick to back him up. Alan, his boss, had personally escorted the guy out and told him to start searching for another garage, way out of town. Nobody would do work for him after Alan started to make a few calls.

      On Friday night Clayton slipped the guitar into its case and left it by the front door. It would be the first thing he saw as he left the house, and a reminder that he needed to do something out of his comfort zone. Hell, even if he only did it once. He lived a couple of miles out of town. The small farmhouse had originally belonged to his mum, and she left it to him in her will. He usually spent his weekends out back, rebuilding motorcycles. It was a skill learned from his dad, and one mastered since working at the garage. Despite its humble size, the farmhouse was still too big for one guy. Two of the spare bedrooms had been stripped and locked up. He hadn’t bothered to take down the pictures his mother had hung on the wall. Her touches were everywhere. The yellow kitchen countertops. The warm green paint in the hallway. Half the time he still expected her to walk through the back door, a basket filled with apples she’d collected from the orchard in her arms.

      When he opened his eyes that morning, the sun shone. The skies were a rich blue without a cloud in sight. He was been born and raised in Hollow Grove, between Edinburgh and Perth. He’d left long enough to go to University and then came back. It hadn’t been his original plan. No, he would have preferred to stay in Edinburgh since there were more opportunities to find work in the larger city but when his mum got sick, Clayton moved back home. It had been sheer luck that he landed the job with Alan.

      Hollow Grove was a beautiful town filled with flower stands, busy market stalls, coffee shops, and picturesque pubs. None of it called to him. He spent a majority of his time at home, elbow deep in whatever his latest project was. Nestled in his garage was a vintage Venture classic in a state of mid repair. The only time he went out was once a month. His boss held a get-together at his house. If he didn’t go to that, Bertha, Alan’s wife, would drag him there by the ear.

      Clayton only went into town to stock up the fridge. He never bothered to linger. A week ago he’d spotted a coffee shop. Glossy black wooden planks and large windows made up the front. In bold, white lettering written on the front was the name Lucy. The last time he’d walked past, it had been locked up tight. Now as he peered in through the window, he noticed that people sat at the tables.

      Clayton readjusted his guitar case and pushed open the door. A wave of cool air hit him, and he shivered. Definitely the wrong time of year for air-conditioning. An elderly woman glanced up from her book as he walked past. A man, probably her husband, sat at the table with her, a newspaper in his hand. The woman returned her attention back to her book and wrote something down.

      The shop had an odd, rectangular shape. The owner had placed several small tables around the space. A counter lined the far left wall; an archway behind it led to another workspace. A random door opposite him probably led up to a stockroom or something else upstairs. The walls were white, and a checkered pattern of black and white covered the floor. The blue flowers resting in a small white vase were a nice touch, and abstract pictures on the wall added much needed flashes of color, vivid and powerful. Definitely not on the same level as the coffee shop chains, but it certainly has charm. He stopped at the counter and studied the blackboard attached to the wall before peering into the glass display. The rich smell of freshly baked goods teased his nose, and his stomach rumbled loudly.

      Hello. Can I help you?

      Clayton glanced up, the voice taking him completely by surprise. A second ago nobody had been standing behind the counter. Now a girl stood there smiling at him. She had long, red hair pinned

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