Table of Contents
Synopsis
Praise for Tagan Shepard
About the Author
Other Books by Tagan Shepard
Acknowledgments
Dedication
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
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Bella Books
Synopsis
For Madison Jones, there has always been her life in Denver. There has always been her girlfriend, Kacey. There has always been her best friend, her studio and her pottery. She has everything in her life exactly in place. But after the loss of her brother, Madison feels unsure about her own future. When Kacey is offered a new job in Oregon, Madison jumps at the opportunity to follow her.
While Kacey works to open a new restaurant at Minerva Hills Winery, Madison sets up her art studio on the property. But constantly in Madison’s path is the owner and winemaker, CS Freeburn. CS is as serious as they come and seems unlikely to warm to either Kacey or Madison.
Though their initial interactions are awkward—if not downright nerve-wracking—the more they cross paths and the more Madison gets to know CS, the more Madison craves those little moments with the standoffish winemaker.
How could she have known that those encounters would begin to threaten the carefully structured life that Madison has built?
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Praise for Tagan Shepard
Across the Dark Horizon
This is a well written and very fast-paced book. It is not overly long and there is quite a bit of action crammed into the pages. Shepard builds great tension throughout the book through both the plot and the bourgeoning relationship between Charlie and Gail. The two story lines complement one another well and keep you enthralled in compelling action and evocative romance.
If you are looking for a fast read that will keep you on the edge of your seat, then look no further. The adrenaline rush of jumping into the chaos of a prison riot on the moon, where every decision can mean the difference between life and death for everyone in the facility, is intense. Then throw in a fiery attraction between the two strong women that need to save the desperate situation…the result is heart-pounding excitement throughout!
—The Lesbian Review
Bird on a Wire
This is the second novel by Tagan Shepard. I said for her successful debut that it is a sign that many more fine books are yet to come. I am glad that I was right. Bird on a Wire is even better than Visiting Hours. With all main elements done well, this makes for another very good book by this author. Keep them coming!
—Pin’s Review, goodreads
This is a book I had no idea how it would end. It looked like one way, then another. Shepard kept me turning the pages since I had no idea. I will say I was very happy with the ending. It was what I was hoping for. This is Shepard’s second book and both have been good. She has become an author that I will automatically read now. If you are looking for a good drama book with a little romance, give this a read.
—Lex’s Reviews, goodreads
Visiting Hours
…Visiting Hours is an emotional tale filled with denial, pain, struggle, commitment, and finally, more than one kind of deep, abiding love.
—Lambda Literary Review
About the Author
Tagan Shepard is the author of four novels of lesbian fiction, including the 2019 Goldie winner Bird on a Wire. When not writing about extraordinary women loving other extraordinary women she can be found playing video games, reading, or sitting in DC Metro traffic.
She lives in Virginia with her wife and two cats.
Other Bella Books by Tagan Shepard
Across the Dark Horizon
Bird on a Wire
Visiting Hours
Copyright © 2020 by Tagan Shepard
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
First Bella Books Edition 2020
eBook released 2020
Editor: Cath Walker
Cover Designer: Judith Fellows
ISBN: 978-1-64247-106-9
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Acknowledgments
One of the many advantages of being a writer is getting to put pen to paper and make your wildest fantasies come to life. I dreamt up Minerva Hills as a winery I wanted to create and run. Short of winning the lottery, the dream seems unlikely to come true in the real world. That’s where Jessica and Linda Hill come in. I am amazed and awed every time they accept my manuscripts and my gratitude is boundless.
I used beta readers for the first time on this novel and I learned so much from the process. Thank you to Celeste, Cade, Andy, and Kate for your advice, your support, and your time.
To Cath for reminding me of all the lessons I have forgotten in the years since my last English class. You make my work better with every swipe of your red pen.
To the wonderful staff at Early Mountain Vineyards for letting me pick your brains about the process of making wine while pouring some of the best bottles Virginia has to offer. I received further inspiration (and wine) from Jefferson Vineyards and Pippin Hill Farm & Vineyards. I cannot recommend a trip to Virginia Wine Country highly enough.
Finally, to the woman who makes it all
worth it. The only one I ever want to share a bottle and a life with—Cris. Thank you for being my cover girl.
Dedication
To Chrissy and Callie
The most enduring love is
the most unexpected.
Chapter One
“These are beautiful,” Jada said, her long fingers tracing the curve of one of the vases on display. “Some of your best work yet.”
Madison smiled, relief working its way into her aching muscles. Jada Welch had enough years under her belt as a gallery owner and art dealer to know good work when she saw it, and she was not the type to sugarcoat a review. Still, Madison wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the pieces she was showing her friend. She wasn’t so modest as to ignore that they were good, but she also knew she had the potential to do better. Even when she was throwing these pots, she wondered what her next project would be. It wasn’t exactly the mindset one had when making a masterpiece.
Jada moved to another table, this one holding an amphora-shaped vessel with diagonal slashes of color, all different shades of blue. It was larger than the vases she’d remarked on, standing on its own pedestal like it would be if it made its way into the Welch Gallery. Jada leaned over Madison’s favorite piece, her razor-sharp eyes examining the handle seam. She gave a quiet grunt and moved on.
“Not bad.” Jada stood and turned her focus back to Madison. “Not bad at all. I think I can find a place for them in the gallery. I have a buyer in mind, but he’s sticky. He prefers known artists, but he appreciates good work. I think I can work him around the corner.”
“Thanks Jada,” Madison said, managing one of the smiles that was all-too elusive for her these days.
“Well, I expect a return on the investment. Keep doing work like this and I might be able to set up a solo show for you.”
Madison skipped over to Jada, hugging her arm and placing a kiss on her cheek. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
“No one does, dear.” Jada pulled her into a one-armed hug, dropping a motherly kiss on the temple before taking a step back. “No offense, but this is Gucci and you’re covered in clay.”
It was an exaggeration, of course. She hadn’t even worked that long this afternoon before Jada arrived. Madison had spent the morning working at the coffee shop, so she hadn’t had time to get really dirty. She looked down at her clothes, a worn-out pair of jeans two sizes too big held up with a wide canvas belt, and a short-sleeve pale-yellow T-shirt that hung off one shoulder. They had a liberal streak of dried clay, sure, but nothing like she would have if she’d been working all day. Her feet were shoeless. She felt the pedal on her wheel better in bare feet and it saved her shoe budget. Gray blobs turning white at the edges dotted her feet like chickenpox.
“It’s not that bad.”
Jada dusted her arm with an exaggerated motion before nodding at the coffeepot in the corner. “Does that thing work or is it full of glaze?”
“Are you kidding?” Madison scooted off to fire the coffeemaker into life. “This machine is sacred. Have a seat and I’ll bring you a cup.”
Rather than sitting down, Jada wandered around the studio while Madison busied herself making coffee. As the machine started bubbling and burping, Madison looked around her studio. It was a small space—a single room with a high ceiling crisscrossed with exposed pipes and vents—and she knew it as well as she knew her own skin. The floors were concrete that had been stained, sealed, and stained again. The white cinderblock walls were splattered with paint in sharp lines and voids compliments of the previous tenant who fancied himself the new Jackson Pollock until his Pollockesque abuse of alcohol left him without rent money. Slim windows high on the wall were so encrusted with grime they let in very little light. The building was warehouse-chic without the chic.
Seconds before the coffeemaker beeped its readiness, Madison yanked the pot out and poured two cups. Both women took it black, lucky since there was no refrigerator in the studio and barely enough room for a single sugar packet. Luckily, Madison had inherited a relatively clean couch from the evicted splatter painter. She handed Jada her cup before flopping down on one of the plush, salmon-colored cushions.
At first glance, Madison and Jada could not be more different. Where Jada was African-American with skin so deeply brown it could appear almost purple in certain light, Madison was almost luminescent white due to her limited access to sunlight. Jada was on the shorter end of the spectrum and carried slightly more weight than she would like. Both Madison’s height and weight were squarely centered on average. Madison’s auburn hair would fall below her shoulders if she took the time to straighten it, which she forced herself to do as often as she remembered, whereas Jada’s was cut a quarter inch off her perfectly shaped head.
The differences weren’t just physical. Their personalities were as different as they could be. Jada enjoyed referring to herself as a “married cougar,” embracing her middle age in a way that Madison had never seen—by combining her world experience with perennial sexiness. Madison had turned twenty-eight less than a month ago and lived in mortal dread of her thirtieth birthday when she imagined she would be sent to some sort of retirement home. Jada was ferociously loyal to the sort of clothing labels that cost as much as the average mortgage while Madison shopped exclusively at thrift stores. Jada once wore a pair of four-inch heels on a camping trip. Madison wore shoes as little as possible, and only snowstorms could force her out of her strappy sandals.
Despite all those differences, they had one thing in common, and it was the only thing that mattered: they both lived and breathed art. In the final year of her ceramics degree, Madison had met Jada, visiting the college pottery studio late one night looking for a professor. Everyone else had gone home hours before, but Madison was in her own world in front of her wheel. Jada had watched her throw long enough to determine that she had talent, then introduced herself. Madison had liked her immediately because she was as excited to talk about ceramics as Madison and because she was generous with the contents of the snakeskin-wrapped flask she carried in her two-thousand-dollar purse.
They’d been friends ever since. Jada stood next to Madison’s family at her graduation from Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design. She stood alone when Madison graduated with her master’s from University of Colorado at Boulder, long after Madison’s parents had lost interest in their children. With a level head she had helped Madison move back to Denver and helped her through her grief and shared in her happiness. She was like a second mother and best friend wrapped into one. In fact, Jada had found this studio, which, while small, had a reasonable rent for space in downtown Denver.
Madison pulled her knees up to her chest and cradled the steaming mug between her hands. She breathed in the aroma of good beans, roasted to perfection. Coffee was something of an obsession for Madison. The only reason she could stomach the need for a day job, apart from a pathological fear of facing the same fate as the former tenant, was that she loved good coffee nearly as much as she loved a well-made piece of art.
Jada sniffed her mug dubiously. “This isn’t from that god-awful Seattle chain, is it?”
Madison laughed and leaned back into the couch. “No, it’s not from Starbucks.”
“Just checking.”
Jada took a long sip, closing her eyes and groaning at the first taste. Jada was also a java devotee and her taste in coffee was nearly as good as her taste in art. The espresso she served in her gallery was imported from a specialty shop in Milan. This wasn’t quite the same standard, but it was a locally roasted coffee, better than the usual swill.
“I’ll try not to be offended by the insinuation.”
“You are a starving artist, Maddie.”
“I’m dating a chef. I may not be able to pay my rent or buy clothes, but the one thing I’m not is starving.”
“How is Kacey? I haven’t seen as much of her since she got back from her brush with fame.”
“She’s good,” Madison said with a s
mile. Talking about Kacey always made her smile. Thinking about Kacey made her smile. “Really good.”
Madison’s girlfriend, Kacey, had been a sous chef at an exclusive French restaurant in the heart of Denver until her “brush with fame” as Jada put it. Madison’s encouragement had reached nagging levels and Kacey finally took her advice to apply for Top Chef. Kacey pretended to be shocked when she had been accepted for the show, but Madison knew her confidence better than that. Even though being on television had separated them for the first significant time in their three years together, it turned out to be a great decision.
Kacey was a favorite on the show, her runway-model good looks and natural charisma made her a hit with the audience. Her skills made her popular with the judges. Her competitiveness, amplified by the nature of the show, made her less popular with the other contestants. She didn’t do anything to sabotage them, but she wasn’t the helpful, supportive person Madison was used to seeing. In the end, she didn’t win. She didn’t even make it halfway through thanks to a poorly executed group challenge where the fault lay equally between Kacey and another chef, Carter. Kacey ended up taking the fall, but she got her name out there in a big way and earned herself a legion of fans. Her career trajectory had never looked better than right now.
“Is she going back to the Palace Arms?”
“No, she had to give up her position for the show and she doesn’t want to go backward.”
“Can she move forward here in Denver?”
“Maybe, but if not, I’ll go anywhere she wants.”
“Anywhere?” Jada pronounced the word as though there was danger in it. “Is that a good idea? Following her anywhere?”
And Then There Was Her Page 1