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  When the widowed owner of the wine bar Vineyard decides she wants to take some time off and travel abroad, she leaves her business in the very capable hands of the two women she trusts most: Vineyard's general manager, Lindsay, and her daughter, Piper.

  For Lindsay Kent, Vineyard is her dream job. She’s thrilled when her boss leaves her in charge (well, half-charge),delete and tells her to feel free to make changes. Lindsay has tons of ideas that she's been dying to put into action, and this is her big chance to increase the success of the business and prove she’s more than ready to run things solo. But getting the boss's daughter on board is harder than expected. The uptight and annoyingly attractive Piper is blocking her every move.

  For Piper Bradshaw, Vineyard is not her job. She already has one. She's VP at a large tech company, and she's damn good at it. Who cares if people say she’s a workaholic and an icy bitch? She didn't get to the top by being prone to whims and experiments. She's not happy when her mother suddenly decides to gallivant all over the country and furious that the family business has been left in the hands of the happy-go-lucky, born-a-generation-too-late hippie who manages it. Good thing Lindsay can't make any changes unless they both agree, because Piper doesn't intend to.

  Lindsay and Piper are like night and day. Working together won’t be easy, but not falling in love might prove the hardest job of all.

  Praise for Georgia Beers

  Right Here, Right Now

  “The angst was written well, but not overpoweringly so, just enough for you to have the heart sinking moment of ‘will they make it,’ and then you realize they have to because they are made for each other.”—Les Reveur

  What Matters Most

  “There’s so much more going on, from the way they flirt to how they each learn who the other really is, the way their feelings come about to how the conflict is resolved and where the relationship is at by the end of the book. All the right romantic elements are there, packaged in a way that kept me interested, surprised, and often smiling.”—The Lesbian Review

  A Little Bit of Spice

  “As always with Ms Beers’s novels, this is well written and edited, well paced and flowing. Definitely one for the reread pile…in fact, one of my favourites from this author.”—The Lesbian Reading Room

  Lambda Literary Award Winner Fresh Tracks

  “Georgia Beers pens romances with sparks.”—Just About Write

  “[T]he focus switches each chapter to a different character, allowing for a measured pace and deep, sincere exploration of each protagonist’s thoughts. Beers gives a welcome expansion to the romance genre with her clear, sympathetic writing.”—Curve magazine

  Finding Home

  “Georgia Beers has proven in her popular novels such as Too Close to Touch and Fresh Tracks that she has a special way of building romance with suspense that puts the reader on the edge of their seat. Finding Home, though more character driven than suspense, will equally keep the reader engaged at each page turn with its sweet romance.”—Lambda Literary Review

  Mine

  “From the eye-catching cover, appropriately named title, to the last word, Georgia Beers’s Mine is captivating, thought-provoking, and satisfying. Like a deep red, smooth-tasting, and expensive merlot, Mine goes down easy even though Beers explores tough topics.”—Story Circle Book Reviews

  “Beers does a fine job of capturing the essence of grief in an authentic way. Mine is touching, life-affirming, and sweet.”—Lesbian News Book Review

  Too Close to Touch

  “This is such a well-written book. The pacing is perfect, the romance is great, the character work strong, and damn but is the sex writing ever fantastic.”—The Lesbian Review

  “In her third novel, Georgia Beers delivers an immensely satisfying story. Beers knows how to generate sexual tension so taut it could be cut with a knife.…Beers weaves a tale of yearning, love, lust, and conflict resolution. She has constructed a believable plot, with strong characters in a charming setting.”—Just About Write

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  © 2018 By Georgia Beers. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13:978-1-63555-190-7

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: April 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Lynda Sandoval

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design by Ann McMan

  By the Author

  Turning the Page

  Thy Neighbor’s Wife

  Too Close to Touch

  Fresh Tracks

  Mine

  Finding Home

  Starting from Scratch

  96 Hours

  Slices of Life

  Snow Globe

  Olive Oil & White Bread

  Zero Visibility

  A Little Bit of Spice

  Rescued Heart

  Run to You

  Dare to Stay

  What Matters Most

  Right Here, Right Now

  Blend

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to Via Girasole Wine Bar in Pittsford, New York. Nicole, Sue, and Mike not only taught me so much about wine, wine bars, and cheese plates, but when I told Nicole I needed to research a wine bar, she invited me into her business with open arms and introduced me to my Happy Place. I’m pretty sure it won’t be long before I have my name engraved on a chair there.

  Thank you to my editor extraordinaire, Lynda Sandoval. With each book, she makes me a better writer.

  Thank you to Len Barot, Sandy Lowe, and everybody at Bold Strokes Books for making me look good.

  Thank you to my friends and family for the support and encouragement in this wonderful, frustrating, amazing, solitary career I’ve chosen, specifically Melissa, Rachel, Carsen, Nikki, and Kris. They keep me going on those days when I’d rather give up and watch Netflix.

  And last, but never least, the biggest of thank yous to my readers. Your support means more than you know.

  Chapter One

  “What do you think?” Lindsay Kent leaned an elbow against the marble bar top and watched closely as Paul Richardson gazed into his wine glass. He swirled it, stuck his nose in, and inhaled deeply before taking another sip of the rich, dry Amarone.

  “Good Lord, that’s delightful,” he said, seemingly to himself.

  “Right?”

  “I was hoping, at that cost, it would be outstanding. It does not disappoint.”

  “You’ve just got to trust me, Mr. R.”

  “You haven’t steered me wrong yet.” He smiled at Lindsay. “And you should know I’m not happy that I love this wine. It’s going to hurt my wallet.”

  Lindsay chuckled. “I know. We don’t have it often for that very reason.”

  “Why’s it so pricey?”

  Lindsay pulled out one of the barstools and took a seat on the edge. “Because it’s not only hard to make, it’s risky. The grapes are harvested ripe, then dried, so they’re on their way to being raisins.”
r />   Paul nodded. “I can taste that.”

  “It’s all about the skin quality of the grapes. If they’re handled too much they’ll be ruined, and the winemaker can lose his entire batch. So it’s delicate work. It’s dicey and takes a long time, thus the price.”

  “Well, it’s worth it.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Lindsay stood back up. Paul Richardson was one of her regulars at Vineyard, the wine bar she’d been working at for three years now, managing for nearly two. He was a tall, sophisticated-looking man in his sixties with thinning silver hair, always dressed in a suit and tie, always pleasant and kind. He came in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after he finished work. He always let Lindsay recommend a wine for him, and he sat at the bar and proceeded to have two glasses of wine and a cheese board. Never more, never less. He rarely had the same wine twice.

  Lindsay patted his shoulder and moved to a table in the corner to check on the four women who’d been laughing since they arrived.

  “Hey, Linds?” Kevin Short, one of her employees, caught her attention as she passed. “Mrs. B. wants to see you when you get a minute.”

  “Sure.”

  Lindsay checked on the foursome, then stood near the window for a moment, gazing out at Black Cherry Lake and the late March sunshine that glinted off the water. It had been a particularly brutal winter, but the past couple of days of sunshine had begun to melt the remaining small piles of snow, bringing the promise of impending spring. The temperatures had stayed above freezing for the past week, and Lindsay could feel herself breathe again as she imagined the crocuses and daffodils and tulips that would start to pop their colorful heads up through the soil over the next few weeks.

  A gentle smile on her face, she headed to the back office to see what her boss, the owner of Vineyard, needed from her.

  Ellen Bradshaw was a very attractive woman of sixty-five. Her chestnut hair was cut in a simple bob, and at 5′2″, her nose poked Lindsay in the shoulder when they stood next to each other. She was ensconced behind her public school metal desk where she spent the majority of her workday. A small Bluetooth speaker nearby was playing the movie soundtracks Pandora station that Ellen was partial to. Lindsay tapped on the door frame just as the low brass tones of the Darth Vader theme sounded from the speaker.

  “Well, that’s ominous,” Lindsay said as Ellen looked up and waved her in with a smile.

  “Come in, Lindsay. Close the door. Sit down.” She indicated the navy blue plastic chair in front of her desk. Lindsay sat, feeling, not for the first time, like she’d been called into the principal’s office. “Did Paul like the Amarone?”

  “Loved it. Didn’t love the price.”

  “None of us love the price.”

  “I’m really hesitant about us keeping that as a regular selection. Not many people will pay that much for a glass of wine.” Lindsay made sure to keep her expression soft.

  “I know.” Ellen finished up tapping on her keyboard, then slid it away and folded her hands on top of her desk and looked at Lindsay. A beat went by. Two.

  “Okay, this is also ominous,” Lindsay commented, waving a finger around Ellen’s general posture. “Are you firing me?” She said it only half joking because Ellen was kind and fun and easygoing, but right then, she was looking incredibly serious.

  “Of course not,” Ellen reassured her. “Don’t be silly.”

  Lindsay blew out a breath. “Oh, good.”

  “I need to discuss something with you.”

  “Okay.”

  And then they sat in silence while Ellen studied her folded hands and Lindsay tried not to squirm in her chair as worry blossomed in her gut.

  “Mrs. B.,” Lindsay finally said, leaning forward. “Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

  Ellen looked up then and smiled. Lindsay knew the difference between Ellen’s genuine smile and her fake one—she’d seen the fake one used on many a difficult customer in the past—and this one was the real thing. “First of all, I don’t know why I bother telling you to call me Ellen since you never do.” Her expression was one of affection, and Lindsay returned it. “Second, I’m taking a trip.”

  Lindsay’s eyebrows flew up into her hairline. “A vacation? Finally? Well, it’s about damn time, that’s all I have to say about that.” She scootched forward so she was perched on the edge of her chair. “Where are you going? For how long?” Ellen’s hesitation made Lindsay squint at her. “I’ll ask again. Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” Ellen was like a second mother to Lindsay, had been since she’d taken a chance and hired the girl with no experience and very little knowledge of wine.

  The genuine smile was back, much to Lindsay’s relief. “Oh, no. Not at all. In fact, I’m incredibly healthy, and that’s made me realize that maybe I need to do a little exploring.”

  Lindsay sat back in her chair and blew out a small breath of relief. “Go on.”

  Ellen mimicked her position by sitting back in her own chair and visibly relaxing a bit. “Well, Tom’s been gone for more than two years now.”

  At the mention of Ellen’s deceased husband, Lindsay nodded. She’d only worked for him a short time before he’d passed away.

  “And I sit in this tiny cube of an office like veal, six days a week.” Ellen’s half-grin gave Lindsay permission to chuckle. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that. I mean, you don’t even have a window.”

  “I know, right? Well, I’m taking some time off, Linds, and I’m leaving you in charge of Vineyard.”

  Lindsay blinked at her while her brain took time to absorb the words. “What? For how long?”

  Ellen was nodding, her face brighter and happier than Lindsay had seen in a long time. “That’s right. I may be gone for a while. I want you to run Vineyard. You and Piper.” At the mention of Ellen’s daughter, Lindsay had to catch herself and make a conscious effort not to grimace. “Though I’m sure she’ll have no interest. But she’ll be available if you run into any issues or need help. She’s very business-minded.”

  Lindsay nodded, letting Ellen’s praise of her daughter settle before asking some questions. “So…how long is a while?”

  “I honestly don’t know, and that’s kind of the beauty of it. Might be three months. Might be a year.”

  “A year?”

  “I’ll keep in touch. Don’t you worry.” Ellen studied her then; Lindsay could feel the weight of her gaze. “Lindsay, when I say you’re in charge, I mean it. I know you’ve got ideas you want to try, changes you think we should make, updates. And I know I haven’t exactly been open to those changes, so this is your chance. Go for it. Experiment a little. Try the new things you’ve been sending me endless links about.” She winked. “All I ask is you don’t run my wine bar into the ground while I’m gone.”

  Her musical peal of laughter did little to ease the pressure Lindsay suddenly felt. But larger than the pressure was the simple excitement that coursed through her system like electricity, and she could barely sit still in her seat. “I don’t even know what to say.” It was the truth. Vineyard meant so much to her. Mrs. Bradshaw’s faith in her meant so much more. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  And just like that, Lindsay’s head was filled with the unnerving combination of worry and ideas. New ideas. Worry that she’d mess up. Ideas she’d tucked away. Concerns about establishing authority. Ways to make Vineyard more profitable. Ways to bring in a younger, hipper crowd. Her brain was suddenly overcrowded, and she needed a pen and paper, ASAP. “When do you go?” she asked.

  “Late next week. First stop, Orlando. Do you know, I’ve never been to Disney?”

  Lindsay tilted her head. “Well, that’s tragic.”

  “I know!” They smiled at each other, their eyes locked. “I trust you, Lindsay,” Ellen said softly then. “I’m not worried.”

  Her words gently made their way into Lindsay’s head, into her heart, and ab
ruptly, the worry vanished. “I’ll take good care of the place.”

  Ellen clapped her hands together once, effectively ending the conversation. She stood, and Lindsay followed suit. “Okay. I need to talk to the others. And I’ll have a chat with Piper tonight, get things all squared away so I can pack.” Her face was bright with joy, with anticipation. Lindsay couldn’t remember seeing her like that since Mr. B. had died.

  Her hand on the doorknob, Lindsay turned back to her boss. “You look happy, Mrs. B. Really happy. It’s nice.”

  “Thank you, Lindsay.” Ellen’s expression was tender, her smile soft.

  * * *

  “This is going to be so much fun!” Although Bridget D’Amico kept her voice at a stage whisper, actual low volume was nearly impossible for her, and Lindsay was pretty sure the whole of Vineyard could hear her. She was small and bouncy, her skin olive and her hair and eyes dark and sleek, like her Italian father’s. From her Irish mother, she’d gotten her first name.

  Lindsay couldn’t help but soak in some of Bridget’s enthusiasm. She was the perfect employee; the customers loved her. She had a great sense of self-deprecating humor, but she knew her wine, and she had a head for business. Mrs. B. had talked to her a little while ago, just before she headed home for the night, and Bridget was as happy for her boss and as excited about the prospect of more responsibility as Lindsay was.

  Finished pouring the three glasses of red in the flight, Lindsay hooked the metal carrier on them and handed them over to Bridget. “There you go.” She pointed at each glass as she spoke. “The Pinot Noir, the Rioja, and the blend.”