Thursday, November 12, 2015

THE CELLAR HAND PROMO POST!


HEY GUYS, I AM EXCITED TO BRING YOU MY PROMO POST OF THE CELLAR HAND; A WORKPLACE ENCOUNTERS STORY; BY SERENA YATES! I LOVE THIS SERIES, AS YOU KNOW, SO I CAN'T WAIT TO BRING YOU MY RELEASE DAY REVIEW ON THE 18TH! BELOW IS THE BLURB, COVER, PRE-ORDER LINK, AND AN EXCERPT, SO LET'S GET GOIN!


BOOK INFO AND BLURB:

2nd Edition
A Workplace Encounters Book
Orson Digby is no stranger to loss. His family died in a house fire when he was fifteen, and he has never recovered from losing touch with his best friend when he was made to stay with an aunt in a different state. Orson works hard to learn the art of winemaking and finally starts a job as cellar hand at Clear Springs Vineyard—only to run into his long-lost best friend.
Geoff Robichaud, freshly out of the Marines, is in charge of security at the winery. The friendship between Orson and Geoff is familiar, but the intense physical attraction is new. As they explore their developing feelings, several acts of sabotage threaten to destroy their new employer's business and their newfound happiness. They need to rely on Orson’s knowledge of viniculture and Geoff’s understanding of security if they want to solve the mystery and build a future together.
OH YEAH, SOUNDS AWESOME HUH? YOU KNOW IT IS! HERE IS THE BEAUTIFUL COVER:


IT IS BEAUTIFUL RIGHT? HERE IS THE PRE-ORDER LINK FROM DREAMSPINNER, FOLLOWED BY AN EXCERPT:
NOW THE EXCERPT:
Chapter One

Eight years ago….

“I’M SORRY I’m late, sir.” Orson Digby wished he could vanish into a hole somewhere. Slinking away, never to be seen again, would be better than having to face his boss at the vineyard. It would also give him the time off he needed to recover from the backbreaking work of harvesting grapes at Parkville Winery. He’d only been at it for two weeks, but it felt more like months. The owners were determined to keep their setup as original as possible since it was one of the oldest commercial wineries in California. That meant no mechanized grape harvesters anywhere, no modern machinery when converting the grapes into wine or in the storage and bottling operations. The need for manual labor was good for employment in the area and Orson’s savings account, but he did occasionally wonder about his health.

“Don’t let it happen again.” The tall harvest overseer with his bushy eyebrows looked threatening even when he wasn’t angry. Upset like this, with a red face and one hand already fisted, the man in charge could have easily scared off a much stronger guy than Orson. “You know it’s critical we get those Merlot grapes in as quickly as possible, now that they’re ready. We can’t afford to let them become overripe and risk losing the harvest. Everyone in the team has to pull their weight.”

“Sorry, sir. My car broke down, but I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” Orson ducked to make himself a smaller target, even though he knew that probably wouldn’t work.

The distraction of watching him rushing to work might be a better tactic to appease his boss. Orson quickly moved toward the next available row of vines and grabbed the old-fashioned basket sitting at the end of it. His picking shears for the day were already inside, waiting for him to put them to work. Just like he’d been taught a couple of weeks earlier, he made sure they were well oiled by opening and closing them a few times. Working with substandard equipment wasn’t acceptable, and neither was using ill-maintained tools.

Satisfied everything was in order, he marched into the next available marked-for-harvesting furrow between the grape plants, enjoying the feeling of soft clay soil under his feet. Even though this area of the field had been approved for harvesting by the vineyard’s cellar hand, he still made sure each cluster of grapes was the desired bluish shade. The bunches of large berries were quite easy to hold away from the vine for cutting. He left the required part of the stem attached as he cut each one loose before placing it into his basket.

It was hard, exhausting work, and at only seventeen, with a slim build and looking more like a nerd than a field worker, Orson was lucky to have gotten this summer job. Sonoma wasn’t exactly the center of the universe, and there weren’t all that many summer jobs around to begin with. The easy ones, working in an office or in retail, went to those whose families were well-known in the community or where parents had connections via family, friends, or colleagues. Unfortunately, what was left of his family was not part of that circle.

Orson sighed as he continued to work in the hot sunshine of late August, sweat running down his back as he cut vines and filled basket after basket with the dark red, almost blue grapes. A lot of the harvesting went on at night, but he had to work the dayshift because his aunt had not given permission for him to be gone when it was dark. Aunt Marian was a dear woman who had taken him in when his parents and older brothers died in the house fire two years ago. But she wasn’t getting any younger, wanted him safely at home in the evenings, and she certainly wasn’t part of the in crowd in town. He needed the money if he ever wanted to get his own place, so picking grapes was what he did.

The sweltering heat, dusty air, and monotonous movements soon combined into a haze that made Orson want to lie down in the shade of the apple trees just visible at the end of the field. It wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, but the thought of a cool breeze and a cold glass of water enjoyed in peace was about all that held him upright at this point. And it was only just before noon. He pulled his hat farther down to protect his eyes from the glaring sunshine as best he could and plodded on.

“Hey, you want we go for a drink after we finish?” Jose, one of the guys from high school who’d graduated and landed a job there, worked in the next row over. He was always up to no good. His eyes twinkled with mischief, and his cocky attitude spelled trouble. He was a year older and had a fake ID, but he knew full well Orson didn’t.

“Sorry, got to go home. My aunt is expecting me to work on the yard.” Orson cringed as he said it, safe in the knowledge most of his face remained hidden from Jose’s observation by the leaves between them. What a lame excuse, but no way was he going to risk getting caught drinking. He’d never live that down.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Jose frowned, as if that could compel Orson to want to do something risky like that. “Everyone is going, and you need to chill, seriously. You never have any fun. How do you stand your life?”

Orson shrugged, focusing on his work. Staying alive, finishing high school, and getting a safe job was all he wanted. There was no point in aiming for more; based on what he had experienced so far, some catastrophe would likely take it away from him. Without parents to pay for college and no money of his own, he couldn’t become a winemaker, which is what he really wanted to be. If he was very lucky, he’d find a permanent position as a vineyard operative and learn on the job. He might be able to make it to cellar hand eventually and report to a winemaker, but without a degree, that was highly unlikely. Getting arrested for underage drinking would not look good on his record, so he’d be damned if he’d give in to Jose’s continued wheedling.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jose sounded accusatory.

“Nothing.” Orson looked up, stretching to see over the vines. Jose was frowning. What is my presence or absence to him anyway? He wished he could ask that question but was afraid he’d be misunderstood. He wanted a quiet life and not to get into trouble—what was so difficult about understanding and accepting that?

“Have it your way!” Jose threw his arms up in the air and rolled his eyes dramatically. “But don’t blame me if you die of boredom or loneliness.”

Orson watched Jose stomp along the vines, suddenly feeling bereft. He still didn’t want to go out to some noisy bar to get drunk, but equally, spending another evening at home, having dinner with Aunt Marian, doing yard work followed by homework and maybe some reading, didn’t exactly fill him with enthusiasm. He wanted someone to hang out with as much as the next guy, he just had no clue how to find and make friends with the kind of people he’d get along with.

If only his parents and brothers were still alive. He’d have a normal family, wouldn’t have to live in Sonoma, California, with his elderly aunt, instead of Tacoma, Washington, where he belonged, and he’d certainly still be in touch with all his childhood buddies. It had been much easier to get close to other kids when he was younger than it was to befriend teenagers in a city where he still felt like a stranger. Of all of the friends he’d left behind, he still missed Geoff most. They’d met when he was in fourth grade, had instantly liked each other despite Geoff being two years older, and had gotten into more trouble together than was probably legal. They’d quickly become inseparable and had always stuck up for each other, no matter what happened. Losing his best friend on top of his family when his aunt had taken him in and moved him all the way to California had devastated him.

He just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

I JUST LOVE ORSON AND YOU WILL TOO! THANKS FOR JOINING ME FOR MY PROMO POST OF: THE CELLAR HAND, GET YOUR COPY TODAY! SEE YOU GUYS NEXT TIME!











There was an error in this gadget