Create a similar story with title, keep the lesbian details and eliminate the sensual activities in the story. 
Hannah Martin has an unusual job: she’s a professional cuddler. While she has a big heart for her clients, she hasn’t found someone special to snuggle up to in her personal life. 
Winter Sullivan isn’t looking for love. She’s an aloof workaholic who’s built walls of ice around herself. She would rather drive toothpicks under her fingernails than cuddle, and she certainly doesn’t want to share her space with anyone. 
When Winter’s estranged father dies, he leaves her one last surprise: she and Hannah, a perfect stranger, will inherit a building together. But there’s a catch: first, they have to live together for ninety-two days. 
Winter is determined to dislike her rival, but soon finds Hannah isn’t what she expected at all. Thanks to a hilarious doormat war, a cuddle dare from Winter’s half sister, and a kiss in the most unusual of places, the frosty fortress around her heart begins to melt. 
Will she be able to accept that love might be just a touch away? 
Hannah has inherited half of an apartment building. In this scene, she meets with the lawyer, Mr. Woodruff, and with her co-beneficiary, Winter, to take a look at the building. 
The stranger gave her a nod as crisp as her outfit. For a moment, Hannah thought her to be Mr. Woodruff’s colleague because she was dressed in a similar style, all cool, professional colors—dark gray dress pants and a white cashmere turtleneck that hugged her long, lean body. But the black leather jacket reaching down to her slim hips didn’t fit an attorney’s wardrobe, and neither did the pair of sunglasses that hid her eyes despite the overcast sky. Even through the dark lenses, Hannah felt the woman’s gaze cut into her. 
After several seconds, she slid the sunglasses up, into her short, stylishly tousled hair that accentuated her high cheekbones and strong jawline. Piercing ice-blue eyes regarded her without blinking. 
Hannah froze with her hand half-extended. Those eyes left no doubt about who the woman was. She had Jules’s eyes and, come to think of it, his hair too. It was thick and silver-gray, making her age hard to guess. Other than a diagonal line above the bridge of her nose, as if she’d spent her life squinting at the world, her face was smooth. Not even a hint of laugh lines bracketed her mouth or crinkled the corners of her intense eyes. If Hannah had to guess, she’d say Jules’s daughter was probably about ten years older than she was, maybe around forty. 
“Winter Sullivan,” she said, her voice low and slightly raspy.
She didn’t have Jules’s last name. Well, she could be married.
Hannah gave herself a mental kick and raised her hand all the way, offering it to 
Winter. “Hi. I’m Hannah Martin.”
“Ms. Martin.” Another crisp nod. After a moment’s hesitation, Winter wrapped 
long fingers around Hannah’s and gave her hand a firm, businesslike shake. Then she let go and slid her hand into her jacket pocket as if wanting to make it impossible for Hannah to hold on for even a second longer than necessary. 
“Oh, please, call me Hannah. After all, we’ll be neighbors for the next few months.” Hannah suppressed the nervous giggle that rose up her chest. Jesus, this woman was intense. She sobered. “I’m so sorry about your father.” 
Winter’s expression didn’t change. No sign of grief flickered across her fair face as she tilted her head in silent acknowledgment. 
How weird. If Jules had been Hannah’s father, she would probably still be holed up at home, crying. But, of course, everyone dealt with grief in their own way, so she really shouldn’t judge. 
Mr. Woodruff cleared his throat, interrupting the awkward silence. “More than neighbors, actually.” 
Hannah had nearly forgotten he was still there. Now she turned toward him and gave him a questioning look. 
He lifted the folder in his hand. “Mr. Lambert left a letter of wishes to let me know how he wanted the trust to be administered. He intended for the two of you to share his apartment on the top floor, if that’s okay. It comes with an office, and I believe the den could easily be converted into a workspace for you, Hannah.” 
Had Jules told him what she did for a living? More importantly, did Winter know? 
“Wait,” Winter said. “You want us to work from here? I thought I’d work at my place, then come over in the evenings and sleep here.” 
“Um, should we go in and talk upstairs?” Mr. Woodruff asked. 
Winter didn’t move an inch. “Here’s fine.” She pierced him with an impatient glare and waved at him to explain himself. 
“Your father made it very clear in his letter of wishes that he meant for this to be your primary residence, not just a place to sleep for a few hours.” He looked back and forth between them. “Is that going to be a problem?” 
“No,” Hannah said immediately. “No problem at all, provided Winter doesn’t mind my having clients over and my clients are comfortable coming to a home I’m sharing with someone.” She didn’t think any of her clients would mind, and for her, having a cuddling area that was a room of its own, not only a sectioned-off part of her bedroom, would be a wonderful luxury. 
The lawyer looked at Winter. 
“Just peachy,” Winter said through pinched lips. “Shall we?” Without waiting for a reply, she led the way toward the double doors, her stride confident and purposeful, as if she owned the building. 
Well, she did...or at least would own half of it soon. Hannah still hadn’t gotten used to the thought that she would own the other half. 
Was that why Winter was acting so coolly? Had she expected to inherit the entire building by herself? 
Well, there wasn’t much Hannah could do about it, other than giving up her inheritance, and that was something she definitely wouldn’t do. An apartment of her own was a dream come true, and the extra income from the rent the tenants paid meant she could focus on her cuddling business without having to supplement her income by working as a massage therapist. 
She and Winter would have to find a way to make the best of it. 
Who knew? Often, those clients who came across as standoffish at first later turned out to be the biggest cuddle bugs. Maybe Winter would be the same. 
Ahead of her, Winter pushed through the double doors like a battlefield surgeon ready to take off someone’s limb. 
Okay, maybe not.