© 2016 By Radclyffe. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-717-0
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: July 2016
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
Editors: Ruth Sternglantz and Stacia Seaman
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)
By Radclyffe
Romances
Innocent Hearts
Promising Hearts
Love’s Melody Lost
Love’s Tender Warriors
Tomorrow’s Promise
Love’s Masquerade
shadowland
Passion’s Bright Fury
Fated Love
Turn Back Time
When Dreams Tremble
The Lonely Hearts Club
Night Call
Secrets in the Stone
Desire by Starlight
Crossroads
Homestead
Against Doctor’s Orders
Prescription for Love
The Color of Love
Honor Series
Above All, Honor
Honor Bound
Love & Honor
Honor Guards
Honor Reclaimed
Honor Under Siege
Word of Honor
Code of Honor
Price of Honor
Justice Series
A Matter of Trust (prequel)
Shield of Justice
In Pursuit of Justice
Justice in the Shadows
Justice Served
Justice For All
The Provincetown Tales
Safe Harbor
Beyond the Breakwater
Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
Storms of Change
Winds of Fortune
Returning Tides
Sheltering Dunes
First Responders Novels
Trauma Alert
Firestorm
Oath of Honor
Taking Fire
Wild Shores
Short Fiction
Collected Stories by Radclyffe
Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace
Radical Encounters
Edited by Radclyffe:
Best Lesbian Romance 2009-2014
Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.
Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments
Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love
Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions
Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games
Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery
Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets
Breathless: Tales of Celebration
Women of the Dark Streets
Amore and More: Love Everafter
Myth & Magic: Queer Fairy Tales
By L.L. Raand
Midnight Hunters
The Midnight Hunt
Blood Hunt
Night Hunt
The Lone Hunt
The Magic Hunt
Shadow Hunt
Acknowledgments
Love comes in all sizes, shapes, colors, and combos—of age, ethnicity, cultural heritage, gender identities, sexualities, social strata, and more. The color at the center of this book is green and seems fitting in a time when difference is feared, and a great many people think building walls, physical and metaphorical, will cure what ails us. Those of us in the LGBTQ community know a lot about breaking down walls and out of closets and fighting to be visible. Preserving the rights and freedoms of others is essential to preserving those same things for us. So goes one, so go we all, sooner or later. This book is a love story about two women, about home and family, and about the boundaries that must fall for us to preserve our love and our lives.
Many thanks go to: senior editor Sandy Lowe for the inspiration and hard work, editor Ruth Sternglantz for endless attention and expertise, editor Stacia Seaman for her unique skills, Sheri Halal for a super cover, and my first readers Paula, Eva, and Connie for encouragement and aid.
And as always, thanks to Lee for the best colors of all—green grass and blue skies. Amo te.
Radclyffe, 2016
To Lee, for rainbows
Chapter One
At ten to nine, Emily settled into one of the leather and mahogany captain’s chairs at the round oak table in the library on the second floor of the Winfield Building and looked out the tall leaded-glass windows into the Flatiron District. A light, late snow fell, delicate and subtly powerful. So far the dusting was pleasantly picturesque, painting the sidewalks and marquees in a fleeting lacquer of white, and not enough to snarl traffic in Manhattan. She’d been in her office before six and hadn’t minded the walk from her apartment in Chelsea. Spring was around the corner, snow or not.
She sipped her Earl Grey and waited for the others, soothed as always by the faint lemony scent of furniture polish and the seductive aroma of parchment. She never used the renovated conference room on the first floor, with its bright lights, steel and glass tables, sleek modern chairs, and absolutely no soul. This room had soul. The shelves were filled with history—history she was part of now—books discovered, sponsored, birthed by the Winfield Literary Agency for a hundred years. She hadn’t been born into this world, but she’d been born with the love of words and she’d found her home.
Home. A flood of melancholy washed through her even after all this time. Almost ten years since home had become a place of sorrows and loss. She brushed the fleeting sadness aside, even while knowing it would return. The past was never truly gone, and she didn’t want it to be. She had forged a new life, but memories, even painful ones, could still bring moments of joy. She did not regret hers.
Right now she had a very busy day ahead of her, and she looked forward to it. She sipped more tea and scanned the agenda on her tablet. Acquisitions, launches, marketing and ads, budget, contracts. Business items to some, but excitement to her. Behind every bullet point a book was waiting.
At five to nine, Ron Elliott arrived, looking neat and polished as he always did in an open-collared, blue button-down shirt and flawlessly tailored black trousers. His chestnut brown hair draped over his forehead in a subtly artful accentuation of his dark brows and piercing blue eyes. He was handsome in the way some men could be beautiful and masculine at the same time. If she’d been interested in men in a personal way, and if he hadn’t been gay and happily married, she would have picked Ron as the perfect match. He loved the work the way she did—as more than a job. He hadn’t even complained when she’d been moved ahead of him into the senior agent position when she was younger and had less time in than him. He claimed he really only wanted to spend his time on acquisitions, and she believed him. Some days she envied him, when her carefully scheduled half-day of reviewing the slush pile went to hell in a handbasket with an unanticipated fiscal crisis, a frantic author with a missed deadline, or an impossible publisher request to advance a pub date.
“New haircut?” Ron sat opposite her at the round table.
Emily fingered the loose curls that just touched her shoulders and feathered back from her face. “Just a few inches off.”
“Looks good. Now you could almost pass for twenty instead of twelve.”
“I do have a mirror, you know. The twelve thing hasn’t been true for at least five years. And you’re the only one who ever thought so anyhow.”
Ron grinned. “Just make sure to have ID if we ever go out clubbing again—or, miracle of miracles, you say yes the next time someone asks you for a date.”
Emily shook her head and concentrated on her tablet. Ron was just about her best friend, but he was also one of those people who thought everyone should be as happily married as he was. She couldn’t convince him she was far too busy and had too much to accomplish to need anything else. Anyone else. Maybe someday, when she was sure Pam’s future was secure. Right now, her life was going according to plan—her plan, and that was all she wanted. No more surprises, no more disappointments.
At 8:59, the senior members of the agency arrived. Her team—two acquiring agents in addition to Ron, their interns, the marketing director and his intern, and the budget supervisor.
“Morning, everybody.” Emily received a chorus of mornings and one barely audible groan. Clearly, one of the interns was not a morning person, but that would change if they wanted to make it in the rapidly transforming and ever-competitive world of literary discovery. Greetings completed, Emily jumped in.
“Okay, we’ve got three months to the launch of the summer season—so where are we in terms of ads, promotions, and tours? Ron—why don’t you start.”
Ron ran down his six forthcoming titles with reports from the corresponding publishers’ marketing divisions, recaps of conversations with the authors, and summaries of his agenda for pushing his titles out to reviewers and bloggers ahead of release. Emily listened but didn’t take notes. Ron was always on top of his list. For nearly an hour, the other agents in turn reviewed the forthcoming titles of the authors they represented, strategies were revised, and projected costs were approved, amended, and revised.
“We should be in good shape,” Emily said, scanning the notes she’d made and projecting the timelines for the intersecting campaigns in her head. “Ron, Terry, you’ve got to keep on top of Heron—they’re going to let the Emery and Rosen titles fall to the bottom of the list if we don’t push, especially now that they’ve moved up the release of Baldwin’s mystery.”
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