{"product_id":"the-shortest-way-home-isbn-9781524741884","title":"The Shortest Way Home","description":"\u003cb\u003e\"Delightful . . . effervescent, heady, and intoxicating.\"--Elin Hilderbrand\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHow far would you go to find the place you belong?\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHannah is finally about to have everything she ever wanted. With a high-paying job, a Manhattan apartment, and a boyfriend about to propose, all she and Ethan have to do is make it through the last couple of weeks of grad school.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut when, on a romantic weekend trip to Sonoma, Hannah is spontaneously offered a marketing job at a family-run winery and doesn't immediately refuse, their meticulously planned forever threatens to come crashing down. And then Hannah impulsively does the unthinkable--she takes a leap of faith.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbandoning your dream job and life shouldn't feel this good. But this new reality certainly seems like a dream come true--a picturesque cottage overlooking a vineyard; new friends with their own inspiring plans; and William, the handsome son of the winery owners who captures Hannah's heart only to leave for the very city she let go.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoon, the mission to rescue the failing winery becomes a mission to rescue Hannah from the life she thought she wanted. Crackling with humor and heart, \u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home \u003c\/i\u003eis the journey of one woman shedding expectations in order to claim her own happy ending.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Rewarding....[An] accomplished debut.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e“\u003c\/i\u003eJust purely delightful and as smooth to knock back as a glass of rosé on a sticky summer day....There are unexpected challenges and a star-crossed romance and all of the things which you want in a summer book about leaving your life and starting over somewhere new (especially when it's somewhere straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie!)....Refreshing and bright, with a clean, crisp aftertaste.”\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eNylon\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This one screams smart beach read: A woman on the cusp of everything she wants in life - dream job, committed boyfriend, luxe apartment - suddenly decides to let it all go.\"\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Parker's bingeable novel is perfect for those who've fantasized about their own path not taken.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eReal Simple\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This debut novel about a young woman following her heart and creating her happiness is engaging and fun. Parker takes her place next to similar writers such as Laura Dave and Jane Green.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Perfect to read with a glass of wine and some good cheese.” —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This delicious book is broken into three parts, and each part comes with a food and wine pairing.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eFodor's\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"[A] delightful debut novel.\"\u003cb\u003e—Bustle\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes this is a romance, but it is also a novel about a young woman finding herself, figuring out the difference between what she wants to do with her life and what others want... the gorgeous weather, the tempting wines, the handsome son of the vintner and, yes, the resident dog all make for a charming weekend read.\"—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eMinneapolis Star Tribune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Does giving up a high-pressure job in Manhattan finance — and a mismatched fiance — to live and work at a Sonoma County winery, while romancing the owner's son, sound like a fantasy? Well, this first good-hearted novel suggests that such fantasies can (and should) come true, as they do for protagonist Hannah Greene.”—\u003cb\u003eNewsday\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This is a fast read and a fun summer fantasy. Especially if the idea of waking up in wine country every day sounds as good to you as it does to me.” —\u003cb\u003eConnie Ogle, \u003ci\u003eMiami Herald Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"In \u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e, Miriam Parker explores the persistent question of whether grass is truly greener on the other side, and whether following the heart will lead you where you belong. This is a story that wine lovers and big dreamers will devour.\" —\u003cb\u003eBookPage\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e is a delightful debut about taking chances and making your own happiness.\" —\u003cb\u003eBook Riot\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"When reading a novel set in wine country, it’s of utmost importance to drink wine as you go. Grab your favorite red or white and dig into \u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e. It’s a charming story about a woman named Hannah who thought she had the rest of her life figured out...\"—\u003cb\u003eHelloGiggles\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It’s nearly impossible to describe this wonderful debut without summoning the language of wine country because Miriam Parker has infused every page with an appreciation for the alchemy of character and place that can transform a cluster of grapes into a beautiful glass of wine. She turns the same keen eye on matters of the heart—exploring how and where and with whom we find happiness, declare a home—with spectacular results.”\u003cb\u003e—Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Nest\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Miriam Parker's delightful novel \u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e reminded me of why I love champagne: it's effervescent, heady and intoxicating. She skillfully blends a captivating romance with inside oenophile references; the writing blew me away.”\u003cb\u003e—Elin Hilderbrand, author of \u003ci\u003eHere's to Us\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e“The Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e is about love, life, and the sometimes unpredictable ways we find our place in the world. But it's also about wine, and maybe best described as one might a great wine: the perfect balance of spice and sweetness, satisfyingly complex yet utterly refreshing.”\u003cb\u003e—Rumaan Alam, author of \u003ci\u003eRich and Pretty\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“At the end of a stressful day, some of us like to escape with a fine glass of wine; others prefer to sink into a rich, deeply engrossing, heartfelt novel. If both of these are your pleasure—this is the book for you. Savor it.”\u003cb\u003e—Camille Perri, author of \u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Assistants\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e and\u003ci\u003e \u003ci\u003eWhen Katie Met Cassidy\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Parker’s debut is a sweet, funny, charming novel of a woman daring to upend expectations (her own and everyone else’s) to make her own way. Readers will toast Hannah’s roundabout journey and perhaps be inspired to take a detour or two of their own.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e“The Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e is the perfect book to end with this summer. Pour a glass of your favorite white wine, take it out to your comfy front porch chair and settle in for an enchanting read.\" \u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Citizen\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eMiriam Parker\u003c\/b\u003e has worked in book publishing for more than seventeen years, and is currently the Associate Publisher of Ecco. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from UNC Wilmington and a BA in English from Columbia University. Her short stories have been published in \u003ci\u003eThe Florida Review\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eFourteen Hills\u003c\/i\u003e. She currently lives in Brooklyn with her spaniel, Leopold Bloom. \u003ci\u003eThe Shortest Way Home\u003c\/i\u003e is her first novel.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I would have never predicted that a winery could change my life.      But when I walked into the empty tasting room at Bellosguardo on      the first weekend in May of my thirtieth year, a feeling came over      me. The kind you get when you taste a new food for the first time      and you know it will be your favorite, or when you see a guy      across the bookstore and you know he'll be your new boyfriend. It      was like inspiration. Never before had an empty room made me feel      like I belonged in it, but this room had that quality.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The tasting room, whitewashed stucco with exposed beams, was      infused with the soothing, earthy smell of a room that had seen a      lot. A room that knew things. A huge brick fireplace was embedded      in the wall on one side and a floor-to-ceiling diamond-shaped wine      rack filled the back of the room. An ornate oak bar was to the      right, with nobody behind it, but two glasses were placed right in      the middle, an open bottle of wine with a black label on it      between them. A perfect photo. A brown-and-white Cavalier King      Charles spaniel lounged in a patch of light from a window in the      back corner. The dog lifted his head slightly to acknowledge me      and I nodded in his direction. He lazily put his head back on the      floor, thumped his tail a few times, and closed his eyes. Clearly,      he approved of me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My boyfriend, Ethan, and I had spent the day driving up from San      Francisco to Sonoma, taking more than three hours to do a one-hour      drive. We had wound around the twists and turns of Highway 1,      stopping to get out and appreciate the view based on Ethan's      pretrip evaluation of the best lookout spots on our route-we held      hands, gritted our teeth, and dipped our toes into the cold water      of Muir Beach and gasped at the view from the cliffs in Point      Reyes. My iPhone photographs didn't come out nearly as good as      Ethan's DSLR photos, but I took the time to imprint the vista on      my brain. In the age of Instagram and Snapchat, I think a memory      is the most private thing. When things are important, I make a      point of closing my eyes and taking a mental photo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We were about to go back to New York to start our real lives,      leaving the beauty of the Pacific coast behind us. We were both in      California for graduate school at Berkeley's Haas School and we      were still awed by its resplendence-on days that weren't foggy (of      course). We lived for the fog-free days. It seemed almost criminal      to be returning to the East Coast after just two years in the      West. But jobs beckoned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Our last stand would be a weekend in wine country. We had arrived      in Sonoma at around eleven and had dropped our bags at the front      desk of the El Dorado Hotel. Our room wasn't ready yet, so we were      advised to walk to Bellosguardo. \"It's Sonoma's oldest and most      beautiful winery,\" the woman behind the desk wearing a name tag      that said betty had told us. She drew us a map of the town and      showed us how to get there. \"And when you've worked up an      appetite, come back here and go to the Girl and the Fig across the      street. Get the lavender crme bržlŽe no matter how full you are.      It's the best.\" The winery hadn't been on Ethan's carefully      planned itinerary (although the restaurant had). He preferred to      plan trips down to the hour, with attractions, restaurants, and      hotels that he carefully selected based on an amalgam of travel      websites and message boards he visited. But, since we had arrived      an hour early, his itinerary hadn't kicked in yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It sounds amazing,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ethan silently acquiesced to the change in plan, although I could      tell that he was irritated. But he smiled and took my hand, and we      walked together following the hand-drawn map rather than the blue      dot on our iPhones.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I feel so lucky to be here with you,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I felt lucky to be with him, or at the very least I felt lucky to      be with anyone after many years as a single woman in New York      City. Plus, it felt good to be away from the pressure cooker of      the past few months of school. The competition for jobs had been      fierce and many of my friendships had frayed, especially with my      best friend, Tyra. We'd both interned at Goldman the summer before      and I had beat her out for the job in Global Investment Research      in New York. It was a perfect job for me because it was focused      more on research and writing than on straight data analysis. Math      hadn't always been my strong suit, although I had made it through      accounting and macroeconomics relatively unscathed. Tyra had been      offered the same job in Singapore, which she had grudgingly      accepted. But I knew she still didn't think it was fair. \"I'm      worried about graduation. Packing. Moving back. I'm going to miss      California. And I still feel bad about Tyra.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Two days off. Away from all of that garbage,\" he said. \"You'll be      fine. You have plenty of time to pack, and if you don't, you'll      just hire someone to do it. You're going to be rich soon.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't know,\" I said, unconvinced.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I loved Ethan, but he and I were pretty different. His pragmatic      side both attracted and irritated me. Since I didn't think      everything through as much as he did, we often butted horns. I      wanted to do things right away; he wanted to consider them deeply      for extended periods of time. He made me feel like my neuroticness      was a mind-set I could stop indulging in, rather than a character      trait. Take our respective travel styles-he was a planner; I liked      to ask the locals what to do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We strolled through beautiful downtown Sonoma, past brightly      painted bungalows and lush trees. \"Those people have an entire      citrus salad in their front yard,\" Ethan pointed out as we passed      a blue-and-pink house with a hammock strung between two trees and      a real parrot sitting on the porch rail. \"Another glass of wine?\"      the parrot yelled at us, making me smile. Of course parrots in      Sonoma knew to ask for glasses of wine rather than crackers. We      turned onto Old Winery Road and the oak trees exploded around us.      They were tall and shaded the entire street. The sidewalks were      littered with acorn shells and we crunched along, going over the      points that we'd need to address in our ethics final. It was an      essay test that we assumed would present some sort of ethical      business dilemma (products made in sweatshops? carbon offsets?      workplace integrity outside of the office?) and that we would take      two hours to solve in essay form. We worked well together on the      business school projects that we overlapped on: He was the      practical one; I brought the creative energy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We crossed a little bridge over a delightful stream and walked      into the parking lot of Bellosguardo, a large stone building      embedded into the side of a hill. It was covered in ivy, and a      wooden door peeked out, inviting me inside. I left Ethan in the      parking lot examining the cornerstone and the foundation. He was a      recovering civil engineer and still felt obligated to evaluate the      structural integrity of old buildings as he encountered them. I      pulled open the huge wooden door to enter the tasting room. I      couldnÕt help but notice that next to the door was a small for      rent by owner sign. But I almost forgot about it after I entered      the tasting room-the whitewashed walls, the stone fireplace, the      beams, the earthy smell. I had found my heaven.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As I stood in the middle of the room, awestruck, a tall, slim      young man walked through a doorway behind the bar and gestured      toward the wineglasses on the bar and the leather-topped stool      right in front of it. His blond-streaked hair was long on top but      a little spiky, and he had a hint of a beard growing, not like he      really wanted to grow a beard, but he was just lazy enough to let      things get to this point. The room was dark, aside from the dog's      small patch of sun, and cool. Natural air-conditioning, I assumed,      provided by stone and the hill behind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Good morning,\" he said warmly, pushing a piece of paper across      the bar. \"Here's what we're tasting today.\" I approached and      examined the list. It had a shorter menu on one side featuring      more recent vintages and a longer list on the other with a variety      of years and wine names. \"Would you like to do the reserve tasting      or the standard tasting? The reserve includes our Syrah Port,      which I think is one of the most unique wines being made in      America. It also includes a 2012 Pinot Noir that won the Double      Gold medal at the Sonoma County Harvest Fair. The Pinot is only      available here at the vineyard.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ethan and I had planned to visit three or four wineries during the      course of the day, most of which involved driving. The reserve      list here included twelve wines, including the dessert wine, and      doing it meant we were committing to this place for the first half      of the day, but I already knew that I didn't want to leave here so      quickly. I settled myself on the barstool. As I did, the dog stood      up, yawned, did a yoga stretch, making himself long and lean, and      trotted to greet me. He approached the barstool, stood on his back      legs, and rested his front paws on my leg, his tongue hanging out      a little, which made it seem like he was smiling, although it also      might have meant that he didn't have a lot of teeth. He licked my      bare leg and I patted his head. The dog let out a contented sigh      and stayed standing on his back legs, tail wagging as I scratched      behind his ears. \"The reserve, please,\" I said, still scratching.      \"He's a good sales dog.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The bartender smiled. \"We've trained him well. You won't be sorry      about the reserve tasting. We make some of the best wines in      California. And I'm not just saying that because I grew up here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You grew up in California?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"In this very winery,\" he said, gesturing to the room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's amazing,\" I exclaimed. \"What a cool childhood.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He shrugged and opened the first bottle. \"It's the only one I      know. Ready?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"My boyfriend is on his way as well. He's just outside looking at      the building. I can't imagine what's taking him so long.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He probably met my dad,\" he said. \"He loves to talk history. The      place was founded in the 1870s, but my family took it over in the      1950s. My mother's father bought it. First he revived the vines      and then started making wine again. We've only recently reopened      this space. Up until then, we just sold to local restaurants, a      few stores in the area. My mom would do the deliveries and the      bookkeeping.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's a lot of work,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"She still handles most of the business stuff around here. My dad      handles the wine making. Anyway, since we opened the tasting room      and started a wine club, things are getting better. We're up to      three thousand cases per year.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Is that a lot?\" I asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's okay, but it could be better. The Francis Ford Coppola      Winery makes ten thousand a day.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's insane,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Completely,\" he said, and flashed me a little grin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He poured a hearty taste of white wine into the glass in front of      me. Tiny bubbles appeared clear against the pale lemon of the      wine. \"It's beautiful,\" I said, swirling the glass of citrusy      sparkle before sipping. It felt bright, effervescent. \"Amazing. It      tastes like . . . I don't know, like really good ginger ale or      something. I can't believe people aren't lining up outside your      door.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He suppressed his laugh at my comparison of the sparkling wine to      ginger ale. I remembered from our wine-tasting class at school      that you were supposed to remark upon what you tasted. The      instructor recommended that we taste things like \"leather\" or      \"currant\" in red wines, but I didn't know what leather tasted      like. I'm just a girl from Iowa; I didn't know the first thing      about how to describe wine, and in that class every time I tried      to say something, someone snorted. But I knew I should say      something and I did know what ginger ale tasted like and it was      delicious. \"We're not as exciting as some of the other places      around here, but we do have good wines, if I do say so myself.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"This place should be overflowing,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What could we do?\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Lots,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I wouldn't even know where to begin,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My hands otherwise engaged with a wineglass, the dog returned to      all four feet and settled under my seat. He emitted a contented      sigh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, Tannin,\" the bartender said. \"So dramatic.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Tannin? That's a good name for a winery dog.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He has the best life in the world.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm jealous,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Me too,\" he said, his eyes twinkling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A few months earlier, we had come up to Sonoma with a group of      friends from school, in the midst of all the job drama, and ended      up in a tasting room that had felt like Disney World-everyone      assigned a tasting time in fifteen-minute increments using little      register receipts like you were at a deli. While you waited for      your appointed time, they screened a video about the history of      the winery-founded in 2008-and after you were done with your      fifteen-minute tasting, you exited through a gift shop selling      wine and grape-themed hand towels and kitchen aprons and wall      hangings with sayings like i cook with wine. sometimes i even add      it to the food. I have a few rules about home dŽcor-they include      no ÒcleverÓ signs, no faux vintage posters, no photo collages, no      figurine collections, no themed rooms. Ethan often teased me about      my taste, although I was pretty sure he secretly supported my      rules in his heart.","brand":"Dutton","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305000030437,"sku":"NP9781524741884","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781524741884.jpg?v=1767741505","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-shortest-way-home-isbn-9781524741884","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}