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Twice in a Blue Moon
Laura Drake
Wanted: one master winemaker Indigo Blue is starting over, again. Following the death of her husband, she's rebuilding her life around her only inheritance–a California winery. There's just one problem: she doesn't know a thing about wine. Enter brooding vintner Danovan DiCarlo.Eager to put his own painful past behind him, Danovan is the perfect partner. And not just in business. As they work side by side, Indigo can feel more than the vineyard coming back to life. Falling for Danovan is a scary prospect. But how do you say no when you find love twice in a blue moon?
Wanted: one master winemaker
Indigo Blue is starting over, again. Following the death of her husband, she’s rebuilding her life around her only inheritance—a California winery. There’s just one problem: she doesn’t know a thing about wine. Enter brooding vintner Danovan DiCarlo.
Eager to put his own painful past behind him, Danovan is the perfect partner. And not just in business. As they work side by side, Indigo can feel more than the vineyard coming back to life. Falling for Danovan is a scary prospect. But how do you say no when you find love twice in a blue moon?
“What’s wrong, Danovan?” She sounded as confused as he felt. “Is it me?”
“It’s not you. Us working together and...being together messes with my head sometimes.” He ran a hand through his hair.
Mixing business and pleasure had destroyed his last life.
“Look, I want you,” he said. “But I’ve also asked you to put a lot of faith in me with the winery. I don’t ever want you to think that I used this—” he waved a hand, indicating them both “—used us, to influence your decision.”
She tilted her head. “I can’t decide if you’re sweet or the most egotistical man I’ve ever met.”
Yeah, join the club. He had never felt so conflicted and unsure of himself. “You are in my blood, Indigo Blue.”
He ran a finger down her throat, to where the first button of her blouse halted his progress.
Dear Reader (#uea21792b-6723-5cfa-8be7-56e671b55b53),
Since Widow’s Grove is surrounded by wineries, one of the books in the series just had to take place on one, right? Except the only thing I know for sure about wine is how to consume it! I enjoyed the research for Indigo’s story and hope you enjoy visiting The Tippling Widow.
If you’re ever in the area, stop by and sample the cabernet—it’s fabulous.
Oh, and watch for the cameo appearances of the characters from the first two books in the series!
The next book? I had readers ask what happened to Bear, the big scary guy from The Reasons to Stay, so the next in the series will be his story.
Stay tuned, ideas are still growing...
Laura Drake
PS I enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact me and sign up for my newsletter through my website, lauradrakebooks.com (http://www.lauradrakebooks.com).
Twice in a Blue Moon
Laura Drake
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAURA DRAKE is a RITA® Award-winning author of romance and women’s fiction. She’s a city girl who never grew out of her tomboy ways, or a serious cowboy crush. Laura’s realized her dream of becoming a Texan and is working on her accent. In the remaining waking hours, she’s a wife, grandmother and motorcycle chick. She currently writes for Harlequin Superromance. Find her online at lauradrakebooks.com (http://www.lauradrakebooks.com) and on Twitter, @PBRWriter. (https://twitter.com/pbrwriter)
To my Alpha Dog, who, no matter how fast I pedal, is waving from the top of the next hill, cheering me on.
And telling me to hurry up.
Thanks for always waiting, Babe.
Acknowledgments (#uea21792b-6723-5cfa-8be7-56e671b55b53)
I’m not much different than Indigo; I may know a cab from a zin, but not much more.
A huge thanks to Jeff Wiens of Wiens Family Cellars, who offered to answer this author’s every ignorant question...and even helped on plot points! His family winery in Temecula, California, was my template for The Tippling Widow.
If you’re ever in the area, check out their wonderful wines! Tell Jeff I said, “Hey.”
www.WiensCellars.com (http://www.WiensCellars.com)
Contents
Cover (#u5ea049a2-4b7b-5252-a457-00d27a18567e)
Back Cover Text (#u70073cea-2b33-5e93-bc0d-ee0f3d5e40f5)
Introduction (#u98e58b45-7fb4-5df2-8dc7-a42cf6005e9c)
Dear Reader
Title Page (#u05a3cf93-e04d-5d0e-9754-aef191aa3c47)
About the Author (#uaf4ccc1d-49b2-5137-a1b8-4d09a4474859)
Dedication (#u2de3f198-1805-5e95-9b77-2aa2389cbb17)
Acknowledgments
The Hollywood Informer
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Epilogue
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
The Hollywood Informer (#ulink_bea891f0-2583-5fbb-b65f-72b10456b8d8)
Hollywood was rocked last week by the death of our beloved Harry Stone. Undoubtedly one of the most influential personalities in the history of film, Harry was Hollywood’s best-known director and one of the wealthiest filmmakers in the world. We’ll miss him not only for his sparkling genre-bending movies, but for his iconic bigger-than-life personality.
But apparently Harry’s not done rocking the town.
In our EXCLUSIVE interview inside, Harry’s daughter and reality show superstar, Brenda Stone, reveals the juicy details of Harry’s will! And guess who’s not in it? Harry’s four-decades-junior wife, Indigo Blue. Apparently the opportunistic ‘masseuse to the stars’ will have to hit the road with her massage table, because she got nada.
The Informer is gratified to see that sometimes, even in this town, Karma works. Blue dug for gold and came up with rocks. We sincerely hope this is the last time we have to mention her name within these pages. Like Townshend wrote, “Let’s forget you, better still.”
Goodbye, sweet Harry. This town will miss you.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_2f5f97c3-fe97-583f-a2ab-9b8bf0ee8553)
“COMEON, BABY BLUE. I may not have Harry’s bucks, but I’ve got a place in Malibu overlooking—”
“You booked a massage, Carlo. I am not on the menu of services.” Indigo Blue grasped the man’s muscular forearm, removed it from around her neck and lowered it to her massage table. Soft light from the matching Tiffany lamps caressed the burnished skin and smooth muscles of Hollywood’s latest action hero, Carlo Bandera. Soothing new-age rainforest sounds flowed from the spa’s hidden speakers.
“I get that you don’t want to commit, babe. That’s cool.”
Pouring coconut oil into her palm, she rubbed her hands to warm it, attempting to ignore the massive boner tenting the towel draped across Carlo’s crotch. Starting at the bottom of his rib cage, she slid the heels of her hands up and across his considerable pecs. She leaned in, adding her weight to release the tension in the huge muscles.
His arms snaked around her and pulled her onto his chest, trapping her hands underneath her. “I’ve got five hundred bucks for a BJ.”
She pushed against him, but his arms were steel bands. He didn’t even flinch. Panic pumped into her bloodstream, impelled by her racing heart.
“Harry Stone could’ve had any broad in town, and he chose you.” He gave her the look she’d seen him use in his last movie. The heavy-lidded, smoky one that liquefied female costars. “You must be incredible—it’d be worth five hundred.”
“Back off, Bandera. Right now.” Adrenaline raced through her, demanding flight or fight. But the caveman Casanova’s balls were out of her knee’s reach.
“Aw, honey, you’ll change your mind once you see the goods...”
When he used one arm to whip off the towel, she twisted away, sliding easily thanks to his oily chest.
“This appointment is over.” She stepped to the door, but her hands were slick. She couldn’t turn the knob.
Bandera sat up, a slow smile spreading across his face, his member throbbing. “From what I hear, you gotta need the money, Blue.” He slid his legs off the table.
She shot a glance around the dim room, looking for a towel to wipe her hands. They lay stacked on the other side of the table. Figures.
He stood. “If you’re that good, I’ll refer my friends.”
Using two hands, tendons in her forearms straining, she twisted the greasy knob. It slipped, but then finally turned. She flung the door open. It hit the wall with a hollow boom. She stalked through the crowd from a just-released rumba class, leaving the door gaping behind her.
Her client’s indignant yell didn’t douse the burn in her gut.
I can’t do this anymore.
Only a week into her old job and this was the third and scariest pass so far. She’d told herself that she’d been spoiled with the cushy life—but it was more than that. Before Harry, the upscale clientele of Las Brisas had at least shown respect for her skills and service. Now she was accosted on a daily basis. She snatched an Egyptian cotton towel from a stack, wiping her hands as she walked through the gym, hyperaware of the curious eyes that followed her.
This was not going to work. She needed a new plan.
As with everything he touched, Harry had changed her. She was no longer the free-spirited, starstruck newbie, grateful for a dream job teaching yoga to starlets and massaging famous muscle. But without Harry’s love and unswerving loyalty, who was she now? She didn’t know.
But she wasn’t this.
A crushing blanket of loss had descended the morning she woke to find the lifeless body of her mentor, her love, her best friend, cooling on the mattress beside her. After that Harry had belonged to everyone: the press, his fans, his daughter. In their hands, the funeral morphed from the quiet family ceremony Harry had wanted into a nightmare of Hollywood proportions complete with limos, television cameras and paparazzi.
Indigo pushed open the door to the women’s locker room, hollow to the marrow of her bones. She put her hands on her knees and leaned over, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. When had she last eaten?
But a decent meal wouldn’t touch this emptiness. The problem was much deeper.
The commune where she’d grown up had been a large sheltering womb that, after high school, had shrunk to the point of claustrophobia. She’d fought her way out, choosing to be born instead between the glamorous thighs of Hollywood.
It was only later she learned her surrogate mother was a narcissistic whore.
That was the last time she’d trusted her gut. Lost, and one bad choice from disaster, she’d met Harry.
