Find it on sale from most e-retailers this week. Links below.
The car came out of nowhere, horn blaring, bright lights reflecting off the curtains of falling snow. Burke Deveraux let out a curse as a streak of red passed him on the left. His wipers swiped across the windshield, trying in vain to keep the thick snow at bay. Didn’t that lunatic driver realize they were in the middle of a blizzard? On a mountain road?
Despite the snow chains, the tires of his Land Rover slipped on the icy slush and his hands tightened on the wheel. Just ten more miles and he’d be to the cabin. Give or take a few. He’d driven this road for years, but with all the white stuff coming down, it was hard to gage exactly where he was. The only thing that mattered was that he was long gone from Louisiana and whatever was in the water.
There was no other explanation for four devoted bachelors to all find love in the span of five months. And while he was happy that they’d found their mates, and he couldn’t wait to become an uncle, he much preferred his bachelor lifestyle.
His brother and cousins had started talking to him finding his mate the moment André and Juliette had gotten back together. And over the last few weeks, they hadn’t let up. Even the women were in on it. The moment his favorite ski resort had announced an early season opening, he’d high tailed it out of there.
Burke didn’t want a mate.
He just wanted some peace and quiet and to catch some fresh powder. And to forget the memories that clawed at him every time he saw one the women that had infiltrated Deveraux pack.
What he hadn’t bet on was trading hurricanes for the blizzard bearing down on him now.
Or the flash of red that jerked his attention to the side of the road.
He stepped hard on the breaks, trying to avoid the red car and the snow bank. For a nauseating moment the world was a streak of white. Burke’s hands strangled the steering wheel as he fought to keep the tires on the road.
The antilock brakes kicked in and the vehicle slowed, but Burke exhaled too soon.
In the blink of an eye the tires slipped in the slick snow and the back wheels swung right. Curses rent the air and his luggage rolled around like a pebble in a tin can. Gin let out a startled bark from the back seat.
Finally, when everything was still, the SUV was pointed down the mountain. A gust of wind cleared enough snow out of the air that he could see the bright red car half buried by a pile of snow/half dangling off the side of the mountain.
He unclenched his teeth, worked his jaw and huffed out a sigh. So much for a relaxing vacation.
The formerly groggy Labrador was now wide-awake in the backseat. Gin let out a deep bark and smacked Burke in the cheek with his tail. He let out another woof, his nose pressed against the side window.
“You all right?”
Gin sighed in that purely canine way that said he wasn’t thrilled with the situation.
The other driver made no move to back out of the dune and Burke figured that the idiot had wrecked his car. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He’d report the wreck and wait until the wrecker got here. If the wrecker got here.
No signal.
Great. He tossed the phone aside and reached behind the passenger’s seat for his coat. Maybe the lunatic in the other car had a phone that would work. Tendrils of snow swooshed into the car as he opened the door. Bracing against the icy wind he planted one boot in the ankle deep snow and then the other.
Tugging on his thick Northface coat he headed down the road toward the other car once again questioning his decision to try to beat the storm.
The collision had killed the engine, mangling what he could see of the front end.
Ah hell.
A blonde lay hunched over the steering wheel, not moving. Blood soaked the back of her grey sweatshirt. He knocked on the window and wished he’d tugged on his gloves. The woman didn’t move. He peered into the car, looking for a phone, and saw a large purse wedged between her chest and the steering wheel.
He tested the handle of her door. Locked. Figured. The small window behind the driver’s seat was shattered, half the glass missing. He reached through the gaping hole and flipped the lock.
Wrenching the door open he checked the pulse at her throat. Still thumping. He braced both hands around her neck and the base of her skull and then, as gently as he could, settled her back in her seat and took stock of her injuries.
And arrestingly adorable features. She looked like an angel, a cherub, with glossy pink lips. With a bloody gash across her forehead and — was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe too.
A fierce wind howled over head, making the trees sway and groan. She gave a soft moan, and then, as if she’d awoken, her body went rigid.
“You’re okay, petit. Just relax. Where do you hurt?”
Stunning aqua blue eyes met his for an instant before she closed them again, wincing. The fear he’d glimpsed there shocked him. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. He leaned toward her to hear over the roar of the elements. “Don’t let…him…take me.”
Watch for Stormy Weather Collector’s Edition to hit the rock bottom price of 3.99 this week. Check it out via these vendors.
