Adam Craig had lived in Lyme Regis all his life or, to be more precise, a tiny village called Marlbury in the Marshwood Vale just a few miles north of the seaside town. He’d studied English at Cambridge and had worked briefly in London but he would never want to live anywhere else.

From the winding country lanes to the tiny stone cottages and the ever-present caress of a breeze laden with the salty scent of the sea, he couldn’t imagine anywhere else coming close. He loved the rolling fields filled with lambs in the spring, the hedgerows stuffed with summer flowers, the tapestry-colours of the trees in autumn and the slate-grey sea in winter. Every season had its joy and he welcomed each one.

His parents had moved to California twelve years ago. His father had taken early retirement from his antiques business in Honiton and he’d been determined to give the wine business a go, buying an established vineyard in the Nappa Valley. Adam had been invited to join them but had declined. The Dorset coast and countryside were in his blood and he could no more leave it than he could his old nan.

Nana Craig was eighty-four years old and lived in a tiny thatched cottage in a hamlet not far away from Adam’s own. Of all his family members, it was Nana Craig who was his closest. Whilst his parents had been building their business, Nana Craig was the one who’d cleaned his scraped knees as a toddler, bought his first pair of football boots as a youngster and had read each and every one of his screenplays since he’d scribbled his first attempt as a teenager – a rather embarrassing romance called The Princess and the Pirate.

He’d been a screenwriter and film producer for over ten years now and his newest project was the one he’d been planning in his head for that entire length of time, for what screenwriter who lived near Lyme Regis wouldn’t – at some point in their career – turn their attention to Jane Austen’s novel Persuasion?

He had to admit that he hadn’t been a fan of Austen growing up but what young lad was? Austen was for girls, wasn’t she? All those endless assemblies and discussions about men’s fortunes that went on for entire chapters weren’t the stuff to stir the imagination of a young boy. But, as an adult – as a writer – her books, particularly Persuasion – had begun to make their mark and, three years ago, he’d started putting things into motion. And it was all coming together wonderfully. Very early on, he’d managed to get highly-respected director, Teresa Hudson, on board. She had a string of period dramas under her belt and had won a BAFTA for her recent adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s Two on a Tower. It was whilst she was filming that in Dorset that they’d got together and started discussing Persuasion.

Now, all the crew and actors were on board and filming had begun. They were due to descend on the unsuspecting town of Lyme Regis soon and Adam was looking forward to that. He’d long been envisaging the scenes he’d written around the Cobb, imagining the fateful leap of Louisa Musgrove and the cautious exchanges between Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth.

He was envisaging them now as he walked into town, walking down Broad Street with great strides, shielding his eyes from the sun so that he could catch that wonderful glimpse of sea.

He was heading to the bookshop when he saw her. Tall and slim with a tumble of toffee-coloured hair, she was gazing in the window of an estate agents and was frowning. She was wearing a floral dress that was far more summery than the weather and her hands were busy doing up the buttons of her denim jacket in an attempt to keep the nippy little breeze at bay. She had a rosy face and intensely bright eyes which Adam wished would swivel round in his direction. But what would he do then? What exactly would he do if she swivelled? It would take a small miracle for a girl like her to notice him…