Jenna Mindel - Season of Dreams

Adam had fallen in love with this land, too, only he needed to learn how to make it grow and produce a living.

She gestured for him to come near. “Watch how I make the cuts.”

He peered around her shoulder. “Looks easy enough.”

“Once you get the hang of it.” She turned to look at him, but leaned too far back and slipped. Adam grabbed her arms to keep her from toppling.

She slipped down onto the bottom step, landing on his foot. Her eyes went wide and Adam caught a flicker of panic race across her face. “You can let go.”

He stepped back and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want you to fall. Worker’s comp isn’t good on the first day.”

Adam smiled, but was curious to know what pulling her close would feel like. He suspected that she’d fit pretty well in his arms.

lives in Northwest Michigan with her husband and their two dogs. She enjoys a career in banking that has spanned more than twenty years and several positions, but writing is her passion. A 2006 Romance Writers of America RITA ®Award finalist, Jenna has answered her heart’s call to write inspirational romances set near the Great Lakes.

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The fruit of righteousness will be peace;

the effect of righteousness will be

quietness and confidence forever.

—Isaiah 32:17

To the Frys,

Thank you for sharing your gifts and talents

with those who need them most.

(Especially your cherry pecan bread pudding

shared with the Mindels.)

I’d like to thank Randy with Runge Industries Inc for his time spent answering my many questions about cherry farming. I hope I got it right! And the folks at NWMHRS for their research help as well. My sincere thanks!

To my agent, Karen Solem, for believing in me. And my editor, Melissa Endlich, for her encouragement. Thank you both!

To my red-pen-wielding husband, for his endless patience and support. You speak my Love Language!

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

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Eva placed a tray of cut dough in the oven and then peered out the window. The wind moaned, making snow swirl against a gray January afternoon sky. The weather might not be as horrible as predicted, but it was bad enough to cancel school on a Friday. In northern Michigan that was pretty bad. As she cleaned off her flour-covered workspace at the island counter, a knock at the door made her jump.

Wiping damp hands against the back of her jeans, Eva crossed the kitchen floor and opened the door. A man with blue eyes the color of laser beams stood on the porch.

“Eve Marsh?” He smiled at her. A devastatingly handsome smile.

“It’s Eva.” Since when did she sound so out of breath?

He held out his hand. “I’m Adam. Adam Peece.”

Eva sucked in the gasp ready to escape. She’d accepted the job he’d offered over the phone this very morning.

“Sorry about not calling before dropping by, but I was on my way to the area and made better time than I thought. Last-minute decision.”

Regardless of the high opinion her father had for the guy who’d bought the family cherry orchard, one look at Adam Peece and Eva knew he was not the kind of guy she’d trust. He was too polished, too good-looking, and his fingers didn’t look as if they’d ever been dirty.

He grinned as he let his hand drop. “Is this a bad time?”

Eva thought briefly about closing the door on him but backed up instead. “Oh, no. Sorry. Come in and let me take your coat.”

He shrugged out of an expensive black wool peacoat, revealing snug black jeans topped by a charcoal-gray sweater. He looked as if he’d stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. His build was slender but obviously well exercised. The sleek boots gave him the decided air of a European jet-setter.

And this guy wanted her to teach him to grow cherries? No way. A downstater like him was bound to ruin the orchard, change it or worse—develop it.

He stepped farther into the kitchen. “Something smells incredible.”

Eva hesitated.

But her roommate, Beth, who sat at the kitchen table with her second-grade lesson plans, popped up to play hostess. “Eva’s famous cherry scones. Would you like one with coffee?”

His grin was quick and brilliant, showcasing even white teeth. “Absolutely.”

Eva nearly growled at her friend. Peece was bound to stay if they offered him food, but there was no getting around it. She retreated behind the island counter but not before noticing the flash of interest in Adam’s eyes when he looked at Beth. A guy would have to be dead not to notice her statuesque friend. “Mr. Peece, this is Beth Ryken, my roommate.”

“Nice to meet you.” Adam extended his hand.

Beth took it, and her long blond hair fell around her face, making her look even more angelic. “Have a seat.”

Eva might have been dazzled at first—it wasn’t every day a male-model type stopped in for visit—but she’d gathered her wits. “Mr. Peece—”

“Call me Adam.” He slipped onto a stool tucked under the island counter’s generous overhang.

Eva gave him a weak smile. “Since you’re here, I can show you what we’ll be working on together in February. Pruning tools, the trees…that sort of thing.”

“Let him warm up a minute, Eva.” Beth gave her a pointed look that said “play nice” as she set down the tray loaded with a coffee service and a plate of scones.

The oven timer buzzed, announcing more scones were done. Eva slipped on her oven mitts. “Excuse me.”

“Take your time.” Adam poured himself a cup of coffee.

Eva pulled out the cookie sheets and glanced at Beth, who nodded toward their guest. She turned to catch Adam’s reaction.

His eyes were closed and a satisfied smile curved his shapely lips. “These are amazing.”

His obvious pleasure did funny things to Eva. How could she hold a grudge against a guy who loved her baked goods? Not to mention that she’d agreed to work for him. That should teach her not to accept employment without a face-to-face interview. Not that she had much of a choice after he’d named her wages. She needed the money.

“Made with Marsh cherries,” Beth added.

Adam’s eyes opened. “Canned?”

Eva set aside her oven mitts. “Dried. They’re what’s left of last year’s pitiful harvest.”