Stable Mates. Zara Stoneley
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Coming Soon From Zara Stoneley …
Welcome to tranquil Tippermere, set deep in the Cheshire countryside. Home to Lords and Ladies, horsemen and farmers.
Set on the highest hill, keeping a close eye on the village and its inhabitants, lies Tipping House Estate. In pride of place is the grand Elizabethan style mansion, sweeping down in front of her are immaculate gardens, well-kept parkland and rolling acres that spread as far as the eye can see.
Follow the stream down to the flat below, and nestling between copses and lakes, you find Folly Lake Manor and the sprawling grounds of the bustling Equestrian Centre. The country lane in front wends its way between high hedges to the village green, the church and two village pubs. Then fans out into tributaries, follow them further and you find a small eventing yard, a scattering of country cottages and rambling working farms.
Take the road north eastwards, travel on a few short miles and soon the elegant village of Kitterly Heath unfolds before you - a village whose origins were recorded in the Domesday Book. At one end of the ancient high street a solid 14th Century church stands sentry, with an imposing school at the other, and all around sprawl the mansions old and new that house the rich and famous…
Marcus James - millionaire businessman owner of Folly Lake Manor and the Equestrian Centre at Tippermere. Recently deceased.
Amanda James – the grieving widow. Elegant and understated, delicate and demure.
Charlotte ‘Lottie’ Brinkley – disorganised but loveable daughter of Billy. Desperately seeking something, if only she knew what.
Rory Steel – devilishly daring and sexy three day eventer, owner of a small eventing yard in Tippermere.
Tilly – head of the terrier trio that accompany Rory everywhere.
Billy Brinkley - Lottie’s father. Former superstar show jumper, based at the equestrian centre.
Victoria ‘Tiggy’ Stafford – dog groomer and some-time groom for Billy. As friendly, shaggy and eternally optimistic as a spaniel.
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Philippa ‘Pip’ Keelan – headline hunting journalist. Trim, sophisticated and slightly scary. Recently moved to Tippermere, from London, in search of real life and real men.
Mick O’Neal – expert farrier, Irish charmer, dangerously attractive.
Lady Elizabeth Stanthorpe – owner of Tipping House estate, lover of strong G&T’s. Meddler and mischief maker. Lottie’s gran, Dominic’s mother.
Bertie & Holmes – Elizabeth’s black Labradors.
Dominic Stanthorpe - dressage rider extraordinaire. Uncle to Lottie, son of Elizabeth, slightly bemused and frustrated by both.
Tom Strachan - sexy ex-underwear model. Divorced, devastated but amazingly dishy. Recently made his ‘escape to the country’ with his goth daughter.
Tabatha Strachan – teenage daughter of Tom. Horse mad, but suitably unimpressed by most other things.
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David Simcock - England goalkeeper, resident of the neighbouring Kitterly Heath.
Sam – partner of David. Lover of dogs, diamonds and designer delights.
Anthony Simcock – property developer father of David.
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The horses – too numerous to list
‘I think he’s dead.’
Rory Steel had been enjoying, in his semi-conscious state, a particularly gratifying dream where he was just about to clear the last cross-country hurdle that stood between him and the gallop down the home straight, when his mobile had started to buzz like an irritated hornet inches from his ear. He’d picked it up automatically, horse suspended mid leap.
‘Shit, you’re kidding.’ The horse dissolved, along with his dream of a perfect round, as he sat bolt upright. Something he instantly regretted as a sledgehammer came into contact with his skull and church bells started ringing in his ears. ‘Fucking hell.’ As he sank back on to a soft pillow, clutching his throbbing head, Rory briefly wondered if the caller had been making a pronouncement of his own demise, then decided that was rubbish. It hurt too much.
And he could see faint outlines in the dark that surrounded him, and surely death was a total blackout? He prodded his temples experimentally and decided his head probably wasn’t about to disintegrate in a bloody mess. But, where the hell was he?
From somewhere in the general direction of his feet came an indignant disembodied voice, which meant he hadn’t flung the phone far. Now all he had to do was find it, without causing himself grievous bodily harm.
Rory put an exploratory hand out. And came into contact with skin; soft, warm skin that definitely wasn’t his own. And it all came flooding back with clarity. He was in a horsebox, crammed into the bulkhead bed, with a tin roof only a foot or so above him. Which explained the ringing in his ears. And he was with Lottie.
‘Bugger off.’ She pushed his hand away, her voice groggy with sleep.
‘I was trying to find the light switch.’
‘Not heard it called that before.’
The phone was squawking, more desperate by the second, from its mystery location.
‘What’s that funny noise?’ The words came out on a yawn as Lottie