Lainey Byrne is a master at controlled chaos, juggling her hectic, demanding job, her chef boyfriend with his crazy hours, and her roiling family with all its daily dramas. But her life truly threatens to spin out of control when her aunt May, who owns a B&B in Ireland, passes away. In order for the Byrnes to collect their inheritance, someone from the family must take over Aunt May’s business for a year. And apparently that someone is Lainey. Between running a run-down, virtually guest-free B&B (without the slightest ability to cook or clean), worrying about her family from afar, adjusting to country life, and dealing with the complications of long-distance love, Lainey is in way over her head. But when a reunion with a (gorgeous) childhood friend sparks unexpected complications, Lainey realizes that fate may have another path for her–a direction she never imagined. “A heartwarming, romantic and funny story about love, family and relationships.”— Irish Independent “Disarmingly funny . . . compassionate, clever . . . [Monica] McInerney’ s story and plot resonate with a Maeve Binchy kind of generosity of spirit.”— The Age, Australia “McInerney uses richly drawn characters, witty dialogue, and the beauty of the Irish countryside to tell the story of a woman-in-control made to let go and let things happen, thus allowing her to rediscover her heritage and her own true passions.” – Booklist “If you’re looking for a breezy, late-summer addition to your library, pick up a copy of Monica McInerney’s novel, Greetings from Somewhere Else . A combination of an easy to follow main storyline combined with compelling subplots and a likable main character make it a quintessential beach book.” –MostlyFiction Reviews Monica McInerney is the author of the international bestseller The Alphabet Sisters . She lives in Ireland. Chapter One Stop the music please!” Lainey Byrne shouted, waving her arms as though she was fighting off a swarm of bees. The background music stopped with a screech. On the stage the ten dancers dressed in giant sausage costumes came to a wobbly halt. Lainey quickly climbed the steps, looking for the lead dancer. It was hard to tell who was who when the entire troupe was dressed from head to toe in pink foam. “They look more like hot dogs than sausages,” the sound technician had muttered unkindly that morning. Or something ruder, Lainey had thought privately. But it was too late to get new costumes and she could hardly scorch each of them with a cigarette lighter to get authentic grill marks. The fabric was far too flammable. She spoke loudly, hoping they could all hear her clearly through the foam. “Can I just remind you again how it’s supposed to go? You run on after the barbecue’s been lowered, not before. Otherwise half of you will get squashed, which isn’t exactly the look our client wants for his big event.” There were a few muffled laughs. Lainey turned and nodded at the sound man, and the opening notes of the Beaut Barbecues jingle filled the East Melbourne venue once more. As she moved off the stage and into the middle of the room, Lainey winced again at the lyrics. Oh, believe me, mate, Sausages taste great On a beaut Beaut Barbecue-oo-oo. She’d tried to gently talk the managing director out of the jingle three months ago, when they’d first met to discuss the gala party celebrating his tenth year in the barbecue business. But it turned out his eight-year-old daughter had written the words and he wasn’t budging. Lainey wondered now if his eight-year-old daughter had come up with the idea of the dancing sausages as well. Or perhaps it had been his four-year-old son. Or his dog. Lainey just hoped none of today’s guests would think it had been Complete Event Management’s idea. Still, it was her job to give her clients what they wanted, and if Mr. Barbecue wanted dancing sausages, he was going to get dancing sausages. Lainey’s mobile phone rang. She took a few steps back, keeping an eye on the stage. “Complete Event Management, Lainey Byrne speaking.” “Lainey, have I rung at a bad time?” It was her mother. “Ma, of course not. Is everything okay? Is Dad all right?” As Lainey spoke, the dancers moved to the front of the stage to pick up the first of their props. Lainey held her breath as one of the fatter sausages teetered a little too close to the edge. “He’s grand. Well, no, not grand, no change there. This is a brand- new problem.” “What’s happened?” “It’s to do with his sister’s will.” “The will? I thought that had all been sorted out. Don’t tell me she left the B&B to the cats’ home after all?” The sausages were now making waltzing movements, each holding a giant plastic bottle marked Tomato Sauce. At the launch later that day the bottles would be filled with red glitter. For now the sausages were just puffing air at each other. “No, she did leave the B&B to your father. But we’ve just heard from her solicitor in Ireland. There’s a little bit of a hitch.” Hitches ca