This was pretty ordinary, I have to say. I found the characters one-dimensional and stereotyped. The author has done her research and there is a lot of detail about how to make a good bottle of riesling, which slowed down the pace of the narrative. In some ways there was too much happening: a tornado; a civil war re-enactment; the discovery of 30 year old human remains, and of course, the obligatory sexual frisson between two main characters. At over 300 pages, it’s way too long, but still manages to rush at the end, making for an unsatisfactory conclusion (in my opinion).

However, every now and then the author surprised me with something like this:

In the sweet, nostalgic memories of everyone who pines for the bygone days of small-town America, there is always a General Store. An old-fashioned place that doesn’t necessarily have what folks need, but it does have what they want - someone who remembers their brand of tobacco and the kind of motor oil they bought last time, and who asks to see pictures of the new baby or the wedding without being prompted. The inventory is never computerised because it’s erratic and, besides, no one computerises bloodworms or tomatoes fresh out of the garden of a local farmer. Our General Store had Thelma Johnson, who’d owned the place since God was a boy.

So, a two and a half star rating from me, rolled up to three because there were saving glimmers of writing that sparkled.