First Crush Read online

  FIRST CRUSH BY ASHLEY ELIZABETH LUDWIG

  Published by Bling! Romance

  an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614

  ISBN: 9781938499159

  Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Elizabeth Ludwig

  Cover design by Elaina Lee

  Interior design by AtriTeX Technologies P Ltd

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at:

  www.lighthousepublishingofthecarolinas.com

  For more information on this book and the author visit: http://www.ashleyludwig.com

  All rights reserved. Non-commercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “ First Crush by Ashley Elizabeth Ludwig published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trade marks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.TM. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.TM.

  Brought to you by the creative team at Bling! Romance:

  Sandie Bricker and Marisa Deshaies, Managing Editors, Bling! Romance

  Mackenzie Jager, General Editor

  Lucie Winborne, Proofreader

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Ludwig, Ashley Elizabeth.

  First Crush / Ashley Elizabeth Ludwig 1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America

  PRAISE FOR FIRST CRUSH

  First Crush by Ashley Ludwig is an adventure in fiction. The author masters strong dialogue and clearly defined characters. Interesting plot twists maintain the rhythm of the suspense while providing readers the romantic elements they crave.

  ~Sandra D. Bricker, author of

  Live-Out-Loud fiction for the inspirational market

  First Crush is an artful blend of sweet romance, mystery, and riveting suspense set in Southern California’s wine country. Readers are sure to savor this spine-tingling yet heart-warming tale of family legacies and forgiveness long after they finish the book.

  ~Candee Fick, author of

  Catch of a Lifetime and Dance Over Me from Bling! Romance

  Ludwig’s First Crush is a dark tale with tragic characters and startling twists that takes the reader on a perilous journey where only God’s light can penetrate the shadows. A romantic read so riveting I could not put it down until the last secret was revealed.

  ~Raquel Byrnes, author of

  Secrets of Crescent Point

  First Crush sizzles with sweet romance and heart-pounding suspense. Ms. Ludwig’s prose and delightful characters will keep you enthralled with each turn of the page. A definite must read!

  ~Cindy K. Green, author of the

  Aubrey Christian Academy YA series.

  First Crush drew me in right away with its brave heroine and the premise of lost legacies blended with romance and family drama. I will definitely read more from this author. Great job, Ashley!

  ~Kathy Ide, multi-published author, editor, and speaker

  “Intrigue and suspense are woven into each chapter of First Crush with expert hand. Ashley Ludwig has constructed a vivid and encompassing setting, characters shadowed in mystery, and an underlying hope woven throughout, rooted in eternal Truth.”

  ~Amanda Dykes, author of the critically-acclaimed

  Bespoke: a Tiny Christmas Tale

  First Crush masterfully blends Southern California wine country with a splash of mystery, intrigue and a heart-warming dose of romance to create a tale that I found hard to put down. As always, Ashley Elizabeth Ludwig’s writing is fresh and playful and her characters real enough to make me want to invite them over for dinner. A thoroughly enjoyable read!

  ~Dona Watson

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As it has been said so many times, it’s impossible to remember everyone who was present during a book’s journey from thought to a published work. In that way, a book is like a child trained by so many that it boggles the mind.

  I read this morning in Ephesians: 2: 8-10 that we are all saved through grace, not ourselves, and so no one can boast. We are also challenged to do good works to glorify the one who gave us these gifts so willingly and selflessly. Paul said (and I am paraphrasing) that we are all treasured works of art. Some hang gloriously on that museum wall, and others are hidden under tarps and in the shadows.

  Without my agents, Terry Burns and Linda Glaz, this story would never have found the loving hands of Sandie Bricker and Bling! Romance, the edgy contemporary romance imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. My editors, Mackenzie Jager and Marisa Deshaies, and countless readers have challenged the story, the characters, and the depth and breadth of the romantic suspense. I thank you all for grooming the pages into the amazing story it is today.

  First Crush began its life as a short story—as many novels do. It was originally penned when my oldest daughter was a baby, as an entry to a mystery writing contest in Temecula, California—where my husband and I call home. I was encouraged by the lovely Rebecca Farnbach, Melody Brunsting, and the City of Temecula’s Erle Stanley Gardner Mystery Writing Weekend where my story was judged third place.

  With my fellow Christian authors, I cobbled this story together thanks to the critical eyes of the Southern California Christian Writers’ Guild, Temecula chapter, including—but not limited to—Kelly Harrel, Fred Tingler, Dan Harmer, David Larson, David Henkel, Gary Avants, and so many others in the San Diego Christian Writers Guild—including Sandra Esch, Susan Meissner, and Raquel Byrnes, who introduced me to the agents at Hartline Literary Agency.

  Denise Harmer encouraged, read, reread, copyedited, and proofread each page of the umpteenth draft before I submitted a final copy. Beverly Nault encouraged me to s
ee the story through. Dona Watson’s quiet hand and engaging attention helped groom the original pages into a full story. Lynn Donovan’s encouragement and prayer over my writing cannot be overlooked. Joanne Bischof, and her insane and awesome work ethic, as well as a writerly voice that is music to my soul, encouraged me to push beyond the trite and expected and create characters with a story and life of their own.

  Finding your critique tribe, people who encourage you to sharpen your skills, go to the difficult places, and create something greater than you think you could ever be, and not just heap undue praise, is a rare thing. That said, the praise and support of my parents—Ed and Kay Rather—is my foundation. Thank you for believing in my words from the very beginning.

  This story, set in a place not entirely unlike Temecula Valley Wine Country—known in these pages as Long Valley—follows winery managers and winemakers. In real life, I have interviewed and met many such people that I admire and respect. Cane Vanderhoof of Miramonte Winery. Cindy Palumbo of Palumbo Winery. Ray Falkner of Falkner Winery. Phil Baily of Baily Winery. The Wiens family of Wiens Family Cellars. Bill Wilson of Wilson Creek Winery, and many more. Any inconsistencies or blatant errors about winery management or wine making fall squarely on my shoulders.

  And now, it’s time to share a little secret.

  There is a place in southern California wine country where the unthinkable happened in a hotel that once looked much different than it does today. Stories of the murder that took place within those walls are just whispers, now. Once upon a time, that hulking structure sat empty, abandoned, tarnished. Once upon a time, I daydreamed of buying that building, making it my own, of adopting it—if you will—and offering it a redemption of sorts. This book is a love letter to that idea. I extend my thanks to the lovely innkeeper for sharing her support of the project. Out of respect, we’ll keep the grim details to ourselves. Suffice it to say, when your own romantic suspense frightens you late in the night, you’ve dug a deep well, indeed.

  While this is a work of pure fiction, I was inspired by the question of what would lead someone to lose their humanity—if even for an instant. That question led to First Crush. It led to a story of the Turner siblings, and an exploration of adoption, family, the questions of nature vs. nurture, and what would happen if one existed without the other.

  As an adoptive mother, I often wonder: What matters more? The biology that spans our genetics or the loving hands that soothe fevers, prepare favorite meals, and sweep the room for monsters before bedtime? A mother is lips that lovingly kiss foreheads, shushing away tears, or share in peals of laughter?

  Adoption is a beautiful way to become a parent. It is not lost to me that as Christians we are all adopted into the body of Christ. So, at last, I thank my partner in parenthood and life, my true life hero, my husband, Perry. I have not forgotten the dreams we shared walking cold, starry nights before our children were born. God gave me you for the ups, downs, and days of doubt.

  For our daughters, Rachel and Ellie, so different and so much the same. Here’s to long summer days of s’mores, swimming, messy hair, soccer, soccer, and more soccer. I love you more today than yesterday and less than I will tomorrow.

  Ashley Elizabeth Ludwig

  DEDICATION

  For Rachel

  My oldest daughter…

  Life forever changed upon your arrival—when I woke up,

  suddenly a mother.

  With you in my arms, God showed me that it is the unanswered prayers that are the best prayers of all…

  A Gift for You

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  Chapter 1

  Hospital monitors beeped the solemn cadence of a life hanging in balance. Natalie Turner sat at her biological grandmother’s bedside. It had been three hours since she’d arrived at Long Valley Hospital’s hospice center. According to the lawyer’s call, the old woman had no one else, no family left. He’d asked Natalie to come, and fueled by adrenaline and curiosity more than concern, Natalie found herself sitting beside a grandmother she never knew, listening to the doctor’s grim news.

  “Your grandmother is in hospice care. We have no way of knowing how long she’ll hold on. I imagine she has about a week, maybe two. I’m sorry—but we have a few things for you to sign. Here’s the DNR from the lawyer.”

  He held out a clipboard and pen, and Natalie signed her name under next of kin. A chill crept up her spine as she checked the box for the chaplain to visit the old woman—what could it hurt?—and thanked him as he left.

  The doctor stopped in the doorway. “You can talk to her, if you like. On some level, she’ll know you’re here.”

  I can talk to her … But what about me? What about what I need to hear?

  In the quiet of the room, away from the squeak of nurses’ shoes in the hallway, with only the hum of fluorescent lights overhead, she processed the day’s events.

  Her biological grandmother was dying. Natalie had barely contemplated the woman until this morning, but now her face was forever etched into her memory. The crease of age and worry in her forehead, her mouth moving in unintelligible whispers, snowy hair angelically framing her face.

  Natalie tucked the white blanket around the woman’s frail shoulders. She should feel something, shouldn’t she? Grief or concern, sadness or anger; but there was nothing except a chill of anticipation.

  Years of unanswered questions circled. Near the top of her list of questions was why Mrs. Valence would want to contact her in the case of an emergency—and how the lawyer even had her contact information.

  Did Mom and Dad keep in touch with the Valences or their lawyers? The only thing they’d ever told Natalie about her birth mother, Amanda Valence, was that she’d acted selflessly in giving Natalie to a family that would love her. Truthfully, years went by without Natalie giving so much as a thought for her biological family.

  When the lawyer called, her world went into a tailspin. She was chasing a promotion at work by putting in ten- to twelve-hour days at the hotel, but she’d just left it all behind in a reckless move that was completely out of character.

  You are Mrs. Marie Valence’s only living relative, the lawyer had said on the phone. That meant Amanda was dead.

  Tears welled in her eyes and the room began to swim, but Natalie blinked and pushed her thoughts toward her family. Mom, Dad, Aaron, and Corie. This was too big a blow to send through email or over a text message. Dropping the bio-family bomb pleaded for a conversation over the phone, or a Skype session at least.

  She pulled her mobile from her leather handbag. Ignoring texts from her sister, she went straight to the lawyer’s e-mail, reading it again.

  We will discuss her estate and the inevitable dissolution of her possessions tomorrow at 9:30 a.m.

  As if money—if there was any—was her only purpose for being here.

  The sharp tangs of antiseptic, plastic, and bleach filled her nose along with the underlying stench of sickness. Gooseflesh prickled Natalie’s forearms and she rubbed it away. She was just nine years old when Gramma Anne passed. Still, that night of the wake resounded in her memory.

  She’d hidden in her bedroom until Mom came. “Gramma wanted you to have these.” Mom had handed over an embroidered lace handkerchief and a slim poetry book. The lace handkerchief was framed over her bed at home, and the poetry book was her constant companion in the glove box of her car, never too far from reach. No amount of wealth from a stranger could mean more.

  In this part of the hospital, there were no flowers, no cards, and no balloons—just a woman fighting for her life and a lonely pink pitcher on the bedside table. There was no joy her
e.

  Mrs. Valence’s vital signs blinked on the monitors. According to the report, the old woman had suffered a stroke, fallen, and broken multiple bones. If not for a concerned neighbor …

  Natalie dry-swallowed. Spooning the last ice chip to Mrs. Valence’s parched lips, she watched in wonder as her expression eased.

  “It’s Natalie.” She hesitated and then pressed her fingertips to Mrs. Valence’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I came. Like you asked.”

  The woman gave a slight nod. Natalie hoped that meant Mrs. Valence knew she wasn’t alone anymore.

  The monitor’s steady beep hiccupped to an uneven rhythm between sixty-nine and sixty-five beats per minute. Natalie straightened. Should a heart rate be that low? The call button beckoned. One press and the nurses would come. But that’s not what Mrs. Valence wanted.

  The DNR stated that nothing was to be done in the event of cardiac arrest. Natalie was just to call the lawyer when it was over.

  Marie Valence’s life would boil down to numbers in her account, with Natalie, apparently, the only witness to her passing.

  She searched the woman’s time-worn face, thoughts spinning at the tenuous thread of biology that bound them together. There were echoes of similar features, maybe, in the woman’s cheekbones, in the slope of her nose. Natalie was twenty-eight years old, and she’d never experienced the “family resemblance” that her friends all took for granted before. Looking at Marie was like looking in a distorted carnival mirror.

  Someone must have loved this old lady, cared for her. Called for an ambulance after her fall. People didn’t just get old all alone, did they?

  Gramma Anne’s funeral was the beautiful tragedy of a long life well lived. Natalie recalled the too-tight shiny black shoes, the overheated church, and sitting snug between Aaron and Corie in the front row while Dad sang the hymn about gathering at the river. Her tears had sogged the lace handkerchief embroidered by Gramma Anne’s loving hands. Hands she’d never hold again.

  Now, clasping the empty pitcher, she stared at Mrs. Valence’s bruised fingers. There was no way of knowing how long she’d survive. Her slight body was broken and failing, but at least the morphine would keep her out of pain. A knock against the doorframe startled Natalie from her reverie.