A Minneapolis attorney inherits a small California winery, reawakening memories that have lain dormant for twenty years. Secrets lie buried beneath Fredrickson Winery’s innocent facade and Billie intends to get to the root. But disturbing the past lays bare the skeletons of others, including her mother’s. Can she live with the consequences of full disclosure or will she run home where everyone is Minnesota nice?
“…one enticing mystery read.”
“The characters have a depth that made it easy to visual them as real people.”
A single mom, newly hired as Fredrickson’s chief winemaker, finds her simple world put to the test when her father is unexpectedly released from prison, and the man who got her pregnant at fifteen shows up from Italy wanting to play daddy nine years too late.
It’s crush time at Fredrickson’s and everyone is working feverishly to get the grapes in and ensure a great vintage. But creating the perfect wine can sometimes be murder…
“It’s a great thriller/love story mixed that will keep you hooked and turning the pages.”
“Barbara Brink has a way with words, pulling you into the story.”
Newly married, Billie and Handel find themselves knee-deep in another mystery. Defending a wealthy San Francisco businessman against capital murder charges, Handel soon discovers that media attention brings more than fame and fortune. When Billie’s life is threatened, he believes it’s connected to the case, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
“This book seemed to have it all….suspense, humor, mystery, romance, etc. There are many unexpected twists and turns. Having finished Savor, I want to go back and read the whole series again!”
“Thrilling conclusion, never saw it coming!”
Author note: A few years ago I was visiting relatives in Washington State and noticed how many wineries and vineyards had popped up across the countryside. I’d read a number of articles about how popular wine tasting rooms were becoming in numerous states, and wondered what it would be like to own and operate a place like that. I also wanted to deal with repressed memories. I spent much of my childhood in Washington, but my memories aren’t so good. Not that they’re repressed–just poor. I found my memories often jogged through things like the smell of apricots ripening on a tree, tumbleweeds blowing in the wind, or the sound of frogs croaking in unison down by the creek. It set my mind spinning this story.