The Tregelian Hoard
GOLDEN TREASURES JUST WAITING TO BE DISCOVERED…
After suffering a broken engagement, Portable Antiquities specialist Jonquil Jones has moved to Cornwall for a fresh start. When a golden find, which has lain hidden beneath the ground for centuries, is reported, Jonquil can feel her soul stirring with excitement.
Is it a one off or part of a larger collection of artefacts waiting to be discovered? It’s Jonquil’s job to find out. There is only one problem, the man who reported the find is her arch enemy, shady antiques dealer, Sebastian Ableyard, the man she holds responsible for her broken engagement.
Can Jonquil, with the help of handsome landowner’s son, Drew Danvers, persuade the ancient landscape to yield its secrets or will treasure hunters beat them to it? And can Jonquil find a way to set aside her fears and risk her battered heart once more on love?
A romantic, cosy mystery, set against the stunning backdrop of the Cornish countryside, The Tregelian Hoard combines heart and soul with a dash of danger and is the first novella in the exciting new Jonquil Jones Mystery Series by Ellie Holmes.
A Taster for The Tregelian Hoard
Jonquil parked her red Mini Cooper beside the farm shop. As she thumbed her car
alarm a blue Triumph Stag roared up and parked across the yard in a shower of
gravel. She watched as the driver leapt from the car and pocketed the keys without
locking it. Dressed in jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt, he was tall and slender
with dark, curly hair.
Catching sight of Jonquil, the man halted. ‘Hello there. Shop’s closed I’m afraid but I
can probably get Mum to open up again if I ask her nicely.’ He smiled disarmingly, revealing a pair of cute, deep-set dimples.
‘Drew Danvers?’ Jonquil asked, hazarding a guess. As she came closer and mindful of her aunt’s lively description, Jonquil was left in no doubt. The man’s eyes were the deepest, richest blue Jonquil had ever seen. A Cornish sea on a summer’s day.
Jonquil felt her heart flutter in response to the man’s keen gaze and thrust her car key into the pocket of her denim jacket, letting the edge of the key bite into her palm. You don’t need anyone, remember?
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