Making a Comeback

Read Making a Comeback Online

Authors: Julie Blair

Table of Contents
Synopsis

Jazz pianist Liz Randall is reeling from her wife’s death and struggling to keep their band together. An invitation to play at the prestigious Monterey Jazz Festival is an opportunity she can’t turn down, and a challenge she might not be up to until she enlists the help of a mysterious neighbor who’s surprisingly knowledgeable about jazz.

When Jac Winters reluctantly agrees to help, a past she wants to forget threatens to destroy the carefully ordered life she’s built with her guide dog, Max, in the quiet town of Carmel-by-the-Sea.

With music and love swirling around them like ocean currents, will Liz and Jac play it safe or risk everything on making a comeback?

Making a Comeback

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Making a Comeback

© 2015 By Julie Blair. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-175-8

This Electronic Book is published by

Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 249

Valley Falls, New York 12185

First Edition: July 2015

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

Editor: Shelley Thrasher

Production Design: Susan Ramundo

Cover Design By Gabrielle Pendergrast

By the Author

Never Too Late

Making a Comeback

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Radclyffe for giving me the opportunity to be part of her extraordinary publishing company, Bold Strokes Books. Thanks to senior editor Sandy Lowe for walking me through my first book proposal and helping me get this story headed in the right direction. Thanks to all the talented and dedicated staff who helped my story become a polished, published book with a beautiful cover.

Again, working with my editor, Dr. Shelley Thrasher, was a privilege and an education. Thanks for treating my work with care, thoroughness, sensitivity, and a keen editing eye.

Writing this story was a long and difficult journey. I couldn’t have done it without the support and guidance of my writing coach, Deb Norton. Her story wisdom shows on every page.

Thanks to Carol McComb for checking my musical facts, answering endless questions, and providing invaluable insight into the life of a professional musician.

Beta readers Ginny, Greta, and Suzy graciously read many drafts.

I’m grateful for friends and family who provide support, encouragement, and common sense when I need it—Dena and Susan, Ginny and Greta, Suzy, Patricia, Jac, and Summer.

I’ve always loved jazz, and writing this book gave me an excuse to immerse myself in it. A nod to Liz Story, Bill Evans, Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Dave Brubeck, and Benny Goodman, to name a few of the jazz greats whose albums provided my writing soundtrack.

Thanks to all the readers of lesbian fiction. Your support of the genre keeps it alive.

Dedication

A writer could not have better friends than Ginny Hagopian and Greta Muller. For all your support, this one’s for you.

Chapter One

Why did everything have to be harder alone? Liz blew out an exasperated breath as the car in front of her backed into the parking space she wanted. It was the third time that had happened.

She circled another block, creeping along in the line of cars slowed by stop signs at every corner. Tourists, unfazed by the rain, strolled along under umbrellas. Strolling seemed to be their only speed. She couldn’t blame them. She’d been coming to Carmel her whole life, but the English-village-style architecture and unique shops and galleries that helped make the small seaside town a year-round tourist destination still captivated her.

Was someone pulling out in the next block? She couldn’t see for sure around the pickup in front of her. Tears stung her eyes. Two days of feeling like her old self, and now parking was making her reach for the Kleenex that had become part of her attire in the last six months. Usually one of them drove while the other scouted for a space. A perfect collaboration. At this rate she’d be late getting back to San Jose, but then, when wasn’t she late?

“You were even late for our wedding.”

Teri’s voice had always been too loud, but she was a drummer and never did anything quietly.

Liz smiled, as if Teri were sitting beside her, teasing her, making her feel loved in spite of her faults. “Not without reason,” Liz said aloud, as if it were a real conversation. As long as she remembered Teri’s voice, it felt real.

“Must have been a good reason.”

“Just a last-minute tryst with the sexiest woman I’d ever met.”

“I couldn’t wait hours to have you,” Teri would say, adding the smug grin that showed her dimples and made Liz’s insides go soft. “But I was on time.”

“You didn’t have to fix your hair and makeup.”

“True. I only had to wash my hands.”

Teri would tap a finger against her lips, a reminder that she’d refused to wash away Liz’s taste.

The memory still brought a flush to her cheeks. After sneaking Liz away from the guests gathering at her parents’ home and up to her bedroom, Teri had made love to her with an urgency that left her breathless and relaxed on the most important day of their lives.

Her heart skipped several beats, lost without Teri’s steadying rhythm. Dabbing the tears away, she breathed a sigh of relief as she backed in between two sedans, right in front of Galerie Plein Aire. Perfect.

She pulled up her jacket hood as she stepped out of the Yukon and strode around the rear to avoid seeing the dented bumper she still hadn’t gotten repaired. If she’d known she would end up driving it, she wouldn’t have agreed to buy something so big. Perfect for their band’s tour back East last summer, but now, like everything else, it was more than she could handle.

Sidestepping tourists, she hurried up the alley flanked by shops and took the steps up to the gallery at the end in two bounding strides. She regretted the exuberance when her calves complained. In her search for new routines, she’d thought a jog on the beach the last two mornings was a good idea.

“You’re here for the Morris,” the redhead at the desk said. “The framing worked beautifully. We can unwrap it if you want to check it.”

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