Green Hills and Daffodils (The Green Hills #1) Read Online Celyn Kendrick

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Green Hills Series by Celyn Kendrick
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Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
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American Jane Dawson is in search of balance in her life—because she falls on her face—a lot.

Now, surrounded by thousands of acres of sheep-poop and social landmines, her romantic sheepdog hero, Moss, stands by her side, looking handsome and dignified while his luxurious hair is swept by unseen winds—until he eats the sheep-poop, that is.
Full of history, mythology and legend, there is more to the odd little town than its idyllic sheep-filled pastures. Amongst an unforgettable cast of characters, Jane discovers the community and companionship she hadn’t even known she’d been looking for—especially with her new neighbour.
No, not the hot widower-landlord Crabby McCrabbit-Pants (known to most as Rhys Kellan), but the sweet and painfully shy Stewart Rygby.
With Jane acting as his champion, Stewart emerges from his shell to start uncovering secrets that have defined his life thus far. Through shifts in legislation and culture, Stewart is freer to be himself than at any time in history—but who is that?

A tale for the ages, the story begins to emerge in this exciting first book of the Green Hills series!

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Part One

Chapter One

(o)

Jane Dawson bought the farm. Well, technically, she was leasing part of it. This was before stepping off a bus in her new town and new country only to nearly get mowed down by a single car in a one Welsh pony town. Her dog Moss was faithfully by her side, except he’d had the sense to stay on the sidewalk when she stepped off the kerb.

Not having fully flip-flopped her brain to British yet, she’d looked the wrong way before trying to cross the street. This led to her subsequently falling on her face with a heap of suitcases crumpling into her like the train wreck she was.

Moss, of course, sat patiently by her side, looking handsome—as he was trained to do. Distracting onlookers with his good looks and manners while his owner made an ass out of herself, was where he excelled.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” she swore in frustration. Every time she stepped off a plane, she managed to fall on her face or break something within 24 hours—usually a bone of some sort. She pushed her leather Australian bush-hat back into place while everything else about her screamed clueless American.

A pleasant-looking man with an unfortunate haircut, coke-bottle glasses, and a bit of extra paunch rushed forward to help her. He pushed a leather satchel behind his hip and offered her a hand. Then, righting her suitcases, he noted the yellow luggage tag. In bold letters, it read, “Please look after this bear. Thank you.”

It had been a throwback to when she’d carried a small teddy bear with her on international adventures in lieu of having Moss for emotional support.

The man smiled and touched the tag saying something in Welsh about Paddington books. But, of course, Jane’s language web app had not adequately prepared her for an entire conversation in Welsh. Mainly it taught her how to say parsnips and other food items she’d never really experienced in an American diet. It couldn’t even teach her how to say the name of the town—Llwyncudd.

“Diolch,” Jane tried in Welsh, brushing her jeans off.

Moss wagged his tail and sat politely while the man offered him a hand to sniff. She trusted Moss’s sense of judgement. If the dude had been stiff, a creeper or a threat, Moss would have been embarrassingly rude, telling him to fuck off. He’d done it before.

The man said something else in Welsh, and she shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, my Welsh is negligible at best. I was told everyone in Wales could speak English too?”

At hearing her Yankee New England accent, he paused and looked shyly at the ground, reddening.

“Oh. I-I un-understand En… English, b-but...” he sighed out the last syllable.

“Oh, ok,” she said, undaunted by his apparent stuttering problem. She mentally checked herself for breaks, more concerned about that than the extra moment she would have to wait for someone to force out a sentence in English. It certainly had to be more intelligible than her Welsh.

“Do you live around here?” Jane asked, looking up and down Main Street, trying to find something that looked familiar. She’d virtually walked around her new home using 360° street views, but since the town barely registered on the map, this limited her knowledge to pretty much the main road. Three clicks and one reached the town limits.

The man pointed north past a brick dentist’s office. It appeared to have a fenced-in parking lot with playground markings on it, oddly. Or maybe he was pointing towards the gas station?

“Do you know where the ‘Quim Cud’ sheep farm is?”

His thick lenses seemingly blinked in confusion.

Jane tried to dig out her phone, which of course, was dead.

“Dammit,” she swore. “Just a sec… I’m Jane Dawson, by the way, although I’m sure I’ll have to change my name after this embarrassing encounter,” she grumbled.


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