First Dates at the Cat Cafe

Book 3: A Cat Café Romance

by Rachel Rowlands

Genres: Holiday books; Contemporary Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

The cosy and heartfelt new novel from the author of reader favourite Snowed in at the Cat Cafe!

Release date: May 28, 2026

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

Chapter 1

In spite of the knot in her stomach, Grace pasted on a bright smile and carried an iced caramel latte and a strawberry milkshake across the café. The drinks were cool in her hands, the milkshake topped with a delicious layer of frothy cream, berry-flavoured syrup, and sprinkles. She weaved her way around one of the cats – Eric, wandering at her heels with his bobbed tail wiggling – and she set the tall glasses on the table in front of the customers. She wiped her hands dry of condensation on her Catpurrcino apron.

‘There you go!’ she said to the pair – two friends, by the looks of it. They’d been taking selfies with the cats and excitedly chattering about sharing the pictures with their group chat. ‘Enjoy! And let me know if you want anything else.’

‘Thanks!’ the girls said.

Grace was working the morning shift, which would give her plenty of time to get ready and drive across to her parents’ house later for dinner. The July sunshine was beaming through the cat café windows in yellow-gold streams, falling across the tables, the carpeted surfaces of the cat towers, and the shelving units running around the room like a maze for the felines to navigate. Nutmeg, their most recent addition and a cheeky-faced Burmese, was slinking along one of these paths, his nut-brown body and pale green eyes catching the sunlight.

Back at the counter and drinks station, her colleague Matt was loading goodies into the glass cake displays: pastel doughnuts decorated with cat faces and almond ears, mini fruit tarts, cat-shaped iced biscuits, and the café’s famous kitten buns – squashy and delicious and painted with black whiskers and eyes. Matt glanced up at Grace as she made her way behind the counter to join him.

‘Come on, Grace, don’t let it get you down,’ he said. He finished setting out the baked treats, set the tray to the side, and motioned to the cake displays. ‘You may be able to fool the customers, but you can’t fool me. I see you almost every day.’

That was true. She’d been working here for a while as Sylvie, the café’s owner, had needed another barista. It had been fortunate for Grace. She could work here while focusing on her business plan to launch her own dating agency for pet lovers. It was ideal. She could leave making lattes and milkshakes squarely at work, and still have time to think through her own ideas after her shifts. When she was working in data entry for a finance company, she was too frazzled to think straight when she got home. Not that her parents saw it that way. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her. She leaned on the counter, watching the girls across the café photograph Nutmeg, who leaped down onto one of the cat towers and bounded his way to the floor like an acrobat.

‘Is it really that bad?’ asked Matt. He must have noticed her sigh. ‘Have a kitten bun – you love them. It’ll cheer you up.’

‘I’m saving my appetite for tonight. Mum’s cooking.’ She stretched out her arms. They were aching from ­carrying lattes around all morning. ‘No, it’s not that bad. If I keep certain topics off the table. Last time I brought up my business plan, and it didn’t exactly go well . . . Julian was supportive, but Mum and Dad . . .’

‘I kind of remember. How long ago was that?’

‘Months and months ago. When I first started working here.’

Matt arched a single eyebrow. It almost disappeared into his wavy brown hair. ‘You haven’t talked about it with them since then? You never shut up about it here, chatterbox.’

She swatted at him playfully with her hand. ‘Yeah, because you’re all lovely and supportive. Even the ­customers. My parents are different.’

Some of the brightness left Matt’s expression. ‘Your parents should be more supportive than random ­customers.’

‘Yeah. But they don’t understand,’ she explained.

They could understand her brother’s dreams of getting into law because that was something you heard about, whether on TV, in movies, or otherwise. It was something fancy they could be proud of. But an online dating agency? For pet lovers? They couldn’t grasp that. She’d armed herself with the means to help them see what she was trying to achieve; it was all stuffed into a yellow folder in her flat, ready to take with her tonight. She wasn’t sure why she was bothering, as she knew it wouldn’t go down well. Perhaps it was the guilt she felt over dropping out of university, even though it was years ago.

‘It was all still vague in my head when I first told them,’ she continued. ‘But I have a proper pitch and a plan, and a website in the works. I’ve been doing some social media and content planning.’ She checked off each item on her fingers, her homemade, beaded bracelets rattling together. ‘I also have a unique hook and a gap in the ­market – a pet-friendly dating agency. A solid business plan, with a title and a logo. I had some business coaching, you know. Got branding advice. It’s taken ages, since I’ve had to save up for everything.’

‘I’m happy for you,’ said Matt. ‘Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.’

She hesitated, biting her bottom lip, some old yet familiar doubts creeping to the surface. ‘I don’t know about that . . . Do you know my history with romance? Who’s going to take me seriously?’

She wanted to take the leap – though there were still a few things to be done before launch, before she could feel truly ready. Sometimes she wanted to rush her way through to the end. But the planning stages were just as important as jumping off. Though she sometimes wondered if she was holding back because she thought no one would take a single woman with a poor and unsuccessful dating history seriously. Surely they’d want to be matched by someone who was already doing well when it came to love.

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ said Matt. ‘You can still be a good matchmaker even if you’re single.’

‘But Shayla Riley – she’s this legendary Irish matchmaker – has been married for fifteen years to some ex-military guy. People trust her judgement . . . What if they don’t trust mine?’ she said.

This was something she worried about a lot. Shayla was a big inspiration of hers – in fact, she’d wanted to attend the Sunrise Matchmaking Festival that she ran every year. This time, it was the closest it had ever been to Grace’s home, as it was being held over in Northumberland National Park. But it would have meant driving over two hours and back if she wanted to participate. She couldn’t exactly stay on the festival site, either; she had bills to pay here, and a job. It just wasn’t feasible, so she’d resigned herself to saving up some more money and going again another year.

Before Matt could respond, they were interrupted by a customer coming down from one of the upstairs rooms, asking for another iced tea. Matt turned aside to sort the drink, giving Grace an apologetic look that their conversation had been cut short.

‘Hey, Grace,’ called a voice from behind them.

She turned to find Sylvie, the owner of Catpurrcino, standing in the doorway to the hall. Her silky auburn hair was hanging loose today, framing her face with soft curls. She wore all black, which only served to set off her cat-themed trinkets: a beaded bracelet Grace had made for her with a large, white cat head in the centre, and a chunky necklace showcasing a chain of metallic cats that reminded Grace of the paper chains she’d made with her friends when she was little.

‘What is it?’ said Grace, expecting to be told to check the basement litter trays, or to refill the cats’ food ­dispensers.

Instead, Sylvie beckoned her into the hall. ‘Come here a minute.’

‘Oh, I see how it is! Slacking off while I slave away over here . . .’ Matt called jokingly as Grace turned to leave. She heard the customer giggle and rolled her eyes.

Curious, Grace followed Sylvie down the narrow hallway and into the staffroom. A break table and a set of colourful plastic chairs were positioned in the centre, and the table’s surface was currently covered by stacks of papers, a yearly planner, and Sylvie’s laptop. Cat portraits were scattered across the walls – framed photographs of the café’s cats. Nutmeg was the newest cat to feature on the wall, his name engraved in shiny silver letters below his brown face.

‘I haven’t told the others yet. I wanted to wait until it was confirmed . . .’ Sylvie’s cheeks were flushed pink with glee, and she practically danced across to the table. ‘I thought you should be the first to hear it. I think it’ll be even more relevant to you.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Grace, approaching the table. She glanced down at the papers – scribbled notes about a cat-café-themed tent and merchandise and . . . ‘A hissing booth?’ she echoed, laughing. ‘What’s all this?’

‘I’ve been back and forth with the Sunrise Matchmaking Festival for months, seeing if we can sponsor their event and have a presence at the festival,’ said Sylvie, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘I’m sure you know the festival I mean, since they were largely on my radar because of you!’

‘Of course I do!’ Grace replied, her voice coming out shrill. ‘It’s one of the biggest dating festivals in the world! But . . .’ She trailed off, thinking of the location in Northumberland. ‘Isn’t it a bit far? How are you going to manage the café and have a presence over there?’

‘Oh, you didn’t hear?’ Sylvie’s smile was broad and shining. ‘I thought you would have! Northumberland National Park was having some funding issues and being wishy-washy about whether the festival could go ahead. I convinced Sunrise to switch to a farm location closer to us instead!’

Grace gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She hadn’t known. When she’d resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be going this year, she’d shifted her focus to other things, like planning out her business website and branding.

The Sunrise Matchmaking Festival attracted thousands of people from across the globe, and Shayla Riley was the star of the show, the one who put it all in motion. Grace had seen her being interviewed on morning TV, and looking glamorous on podcasts with her sleek, straight brown hair arranged over her shoulder and a red-tinged pout. She always had a wise word to say about relationships and matchmaking.

‘How close?’ Grace squealed, bobbing on the balls of her feet.

‘Acorn Wood Farm. A twenty-minute drive? Less?’ Sylvie answered.

‘This is so exciting!’

Sylvie began talking very fast, her ideas coming out in a tumble of words, as if she were as excited as Grace. ‘They’ve confirmed we can sponsor them! We’ll be able to have a tent on the event grounds to promote ­Catpurrcino. I’ve had some stuffed cats commissioned to represent the real cats! Have you seen those cafés over in Japan, designed to tackle loneliness? Where they sit customers next to stuffed toys? I was going to recreate something like that, encourage people to visit us for real to meet the cats.’

‘That’s such a good idea!’ said Grace. ‘And a hissing booth? I get it now. A kissing booth with a twist! I love that!’

‘I’ve not quite ironed out the details yet, but yes. Exactly!’

Grace couldn’t keep still. She bounded to the other side of the staff table, twisting her long braid around her fingers. ‘If I could get five minutes with Shayla Riley . . . pick her brains about matchmaking . . . That would be amazing . . .’

‘For your business?’ Sylvie said. Like Matt, she knew about Grace’s plans for her own pet-friendly dating agency. ‘I thought you might like to meet her. And you might be in with a good chance at that.’ She leaned down, shuffling aside some papers to reveal a printout of a web page. Sylvie held it out to her. ‘Look.’

Grace leaned over the table and took the paper, scanning the details. It was a news update from the Sunrise Matchmaking Festival website, which was sleekly designed and splashed in bright shades of orange and pink that, oddly, worked together quite well, though it wouldn’t have been Grace’s choice of colour palette. The heading read: Participants Needed for Promotional Documentary.

‘They want people to shadow for the duration of the festival,’ Sylvie explained. She leaned against the small kitchenette behind her, folding her arms. ‘It’s a chance to spend some time with Shayla Riley, since she’s going to be involved.’

‘Are you saying I should take part?’

‘Yes! You’ll have to register as a participant in the festival, one of the singles, then apply to be on the documentary. The window is closing soon.’

‘Won’t you need me here at the café, though? And if we’re sponsoring this event, having our own tent, you’ll need me. That’s effectively running two cafés at once.’

‘I’m not asking you to quit on me, Grace.’ She chuckled. ‘I’m going to need to enlist some temp workers for the festival, anyway – it’ll be busy. We can spare you some days, though. Faye wants to pick up some more hours this summer.’

Grace clenched the paper tightly, a thrill zinging through her. She felt like she’d had several cocktails in a row, the tipsy, giddy feeling rushing to her head. ‘Sylvie, this is amazing! Thank you!’

She raced around the table to give her a hug. Sylvie laughed, more loudly this time, and patted her shoulder – as if calming an excitable puppy – before Grace drew back.

‘I’ll definitely sign up! I’ll do it when I leave work!’ said Grace.

After her shift, she’d have at least four hours before she had to be at her parents’ house for dinner, which was plenty of time – so long as the application process wasn’t too long. And if it was, she’d return to it later tonight. Even if she wasn’t selected to be part of the promotional documentary, joining as a single would mean getting close to Shayla Riley. She’d heard stories about her – how she was renowned for writing couples she believed would be successful into her legendary ‘match book’. And she was usually right.

‘There’s just one problem,’ said Grace, thinking back to her conversation with Matt at the counter.

Sylvie raised her eyebrow. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I’m bad at dating, and the furthest thing from my mind right now is my own love life. It’s always a complete disaster.’

Sylvie laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine, love. Just keep your eyes on the prize and forget about the rest.’

Grace contemplated this, looking down at Sylvie’s papers scattered across the table, at her plans for the Catpurrcino tent and the hissing booth. She could join without getting too invested in the dating, couldn’t she? She could play along, and use this as an opportunity to get some ideas for her business. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been on bad dates before. She could do it again.

And anyway, if she could get through dinner with her parents tonight, she could get through anything.

*

When she arrived at home – at the flat she shared with her cousin, Eloise – she kicked off her shoes and made her way down the hall. It was a small two-bedroom flat that cost an arm and a leg between them, since it was in a nice location on the outskirts of Oakside, bordered by trees. But it was cosy, and it was theirs – she’d rather incur the expense of renting this place than ever live with her mum and dad again.

Eloise was already in the living room, sitting on the couch and painting her toenails a vibrant shade of hot-pink. A Korean dating show blared on the TV, the colours bright and eye-catching. Across the room, Grace’s cat Nacho was emerging from his cat bed, stretching his black body low to the floor and blinking up at Grace.

‘Don’t worry,’ Eloise said, squinting down at her toes, moving her hand slowly as she brushed on polish, like she didn’t want to smudge anything. ‘We’ve already seen this one. I put it on for background noise.’ Her hair, blonde like Grace’s but on the ashier side, was pushed away from her face and trailing down the back of her T-shirt so it didn’t get in the way.

‘Good,’ said Grace. ‘I thought you were watching that new romance drama without me.’ She crossed the room and bent down to tickle Nacho behind the ears.

‘Maybe we can stay here and do that, instead of going to dinner,’ Eloise suggested. Grace knew she found her parents just as stuffy as she did at times, and would rather binge-watch a Korean romance show with a takeaway than eat a meal with them.

‘We promised ages ago. And I might not get to see Julian much over the summer after this, so we’d better go.’

Eloise looked up from her toes, interest written all over her delicate features. ‘What do you mean? You taking on more shifts?’

Grace crossed the room and grabbed the remote, turning the volume down before dropping onto the sofa beside Eloise and scooting her own feet up. She narrowly missed Eloise’s leg.

‘Hey, watch the toes,’ said Eloise, swatting her away.

‘We’re going to my parents’ house, not Tenerife,’ Grace pointed out with a snort, as Nacho hopped onto the arm of the sofa beside her. She scritched his chin, and he shoved himself into her hand, leaning down into her touch.

‘I’m getting myself summer ready. Who knows when a guy will come along and whisk me away to Tenerife? Anyway, what’s going on? Why won’t you be seeing Julian much after today? He leaves for London in September. That’s ages away.’

‘Well, I hope I’ll get to see him, but it’s going to be quite a busy summer for me too . . .’

She quickly filled her cousin in on the Sunrise Matchmaking Festival and Sylvie’s plans for Catpurrcino to be involved, stroking Nacho on the head as she talked. By the time she’d finished, he had lowered himself into the loaf position, purring like his life depended on it.

‘No way,’ said Eloise. She dabbed polish on her last toenail, and swung to face Grace on the sofa, feet wedged upright. ‘That sounds perfect. A summer singles festival? Sign me up. Can I join with you? Not the documentary part.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t fancy my dating failures being captured on camera, thanks. Last time I had a date, I spilled spaghetti sauce all down my white top. The guy wasn’t impressed. Said I ate like a toddler.’

Grace laughed. ‘That’s not as bad as the guy who spat all over me after eating a mouthful of paella – that stuff stinks. And you should join! It’ll be more fun if you’re there.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’ll grab my laptop. I want to sign up now – it closes soon. We can do it together.’

She left her cousin on the sofa and headed into her room. It was small, but she’d made it homey with her own touches. The floors were a light hardwood and the window to the side of her bed overlooked the trees and the pale blue sky and soft clouds. Her favourite part was the walk-in shower attached to the corner of the room, the blue tiles cast in bright sunlight. There was room for a small desk beside the shower cubicle, where she kept all her business plans. It was a bit cluttered, since it doubled as her getting-ready station. The yellow folder she planned to take to her parents’ house was resting next to her laptop, and the sight of it made her heart leap in anticipation.

She grabbed her laptop and returned to Eloise in the living area. Nacho was still snoozing on the arm of the sofa where she’d left him. ‘Let’s do this, then.’

Eloise grinned at her. ‘Let’s.’

She sat down beside her, opened up the laptop, and navigated to the Sunrise Matchmaking Festival sign-up page for singles. It was detailed – the basics such as name, date of birth, address and contact details were listed at the top. Then there was a tell us about yourself box and another box for relationship history. Smaller question-­boxes followed, including do you have children? and do you want children? More aspects were covered, too: ­marital status, orientation, job, hobbies, and other questions Grace would expect when it came to dating.

They filled it out for Eloise first. She spent a solid five minutes criticising the do you want children? question as being too invasive, since she didn’t know yet – ‘I’m only in my twenties; why don’t they mind their own bloody business!’ – and they settled on writing mind your own business in the box. When Eloise’s form was sent whooshing off into the internet ether, Grace completed hers. It was pretty straightforward, except she didn’t know how to describe her relationship history at all. She’d had a boyfriend in high school, and some failed relationships and dates since then that had never truly solidified into anything serious.

‘What do I even write?’ she asked Eloise. She felt hot and pressured, as if someone had stuck a spotlight on her. ‘That my high school boyfriend dumped me for someone else? That my love life is a failure? Every guy I’ve been with has balked at the first signs of commitment. I haven’t even lived with a guy.’

‘Don’t make it sound so awful. You can make it sound funny. It always sounds funny when you talk about it to me. Especially the high school one.’

‘That’s because he dumped me to see if he had a chance with his celebrity crush. He was completely deluded.’ She snorted. ‘But maybe you’re right.’

She wrote a lengthy tale in the box about her first boyfriend’s obsession with a singer and how he was convinced he was going to marry her because he’d won a contest to attend a meet-and-greet and they both had Burmese cats. As it turned out, thirty other lucky winners attended the meet-and-greet and he ended up seated at the opposite end of the table to the singer. So they didn’t get to chat about Burmese cats at all. At the end, the singer was whisked away by her bodyguards and that was that. The story had moved as quickly as the chicken pox around high school and the teachers had to warn students to stop discussing it, as it was distracting them from their exams. Grace had never been able to look at Burmese cats in the same way since. It was typical that the newest cat café addition was a ­Burmese, too; she had to try hard not to think of her idiotic ex-­boyfriend whenever she looked at Nutmeg’s cheeky, slightly cross-eyed face.

Eloise was leaning over, watching her type. ‘That’s perfect!’ she said gleefully. ‘I love the chicken pox analogy.’

Grace went back to the job section to re-emphasise her desire to run her own pet-friendly dating agency – she’d been tired of cat-haters the few times she’d tried a dating app – then they double-checked the form before sending it off.

She pulled up the application for the promotional documentary next. She leaned over. ‘Wow, it’s longer than the other one,’ she said. ‘There are even more questions here. Ironically, there’s one about my celebrity crush . . .’

‘And they want a photo of you,’ Eloise pointed out as they skimmed through the rest of the form. ‘Well, no problems there. Send one with your hair down and one of your flower crowns on. It screams summer elf queen. And you can write that you made the crown yourself. They’ll love it.’

‘Good idea,’ said Grace. ‘There’s a question about what I’m looking for in a partner . . .’

‘Great. Your summer elf king.’

They both laughed. Nacho, seemingly sick of their noise and chatting, hopped onto the floor and began cleaning himself vigorously.

‘Okay,’ said Grace. ‘But seriously, I’ve no idea. I’m not looking for love here. It’s more that I want to meet Shayla Riley, and if I have to go on a few dates, it’s not like I’m not used to duds . . .’

‘You can’t say that. You have to make it sound good.’

They pored over the form, coming up with something that blended her desire to build her own pet-friendly dating agency with a strong wish to meet her own match. It sounded good enough. She added a photo Eloise had taken of her last summer when she’d made an elaborate flower crown to wear for a concert, her blonde hair tumbling down to her waist in waves.

‘Off it goes,’ said Grace, pressing the submit button. ‘Fingers crossed.’

‘And toes!’ said Eloise, wiggling her newly painted toes. She groaned, turning to look at the clock hanging in the kitchen. ‘Next up, dinner with your parents . . . want to watch an episode first? We have time.’

‘Okay,’ said Grace, folding the laptop closed and placing it on the coffee table. She settled into the sofa, watching Nacho lick his paws and scrub them over his ears. ‘But just one, or we’ll never go.’

‘Like that would be a bad thing . . . .