Alex Stewart, ex-Marine and tough as nails boss, ditches the success of his fledgling business and flees to his cabin in the deep woods. He’s had enough. Four years after the deaths of his wife and daughter, he’s stuck in the anger stage of grief. He wants to be left alone. Life used to make sense. It just doesn't bring him joy. Nothing does.
She’s trying to remember . . .
Left to die in those same deep woods, Kelsey is the last thing Alex expects to find at his cabin. She’s everything he’s running away from. Responsibility. Memories. Having to care about someone else beside himself. To make matters worse, she can’t remember anything except her first name. Neither can she explain the marks on her body, nor why two darling baby boys haunt her dreams.
But Alex can . . .
Read part of this awesome book -
Kelsey slid down the counter, every ounce of strength evaporated. She landed on her butt with a graceless thump, his kiss gone too quickly from her face. The wonderful warmth of the moment went out the door with him, leaving her alone? Unhappy? Empty? And definitely unbalanced.
Her tongue tasted where his lips had just been. Her chin still felt the rub of his stubble. The lingering scent of sawdust and spice filled her nose. She shivered, still tasting, still feeling, and finally breathing. Like a fool, she had stood there without so much as a return hug. She hadn’t even returned his kiss. Am I insane?
Kelsey scrambled to her feet. She knew what she wanted and she wasn’t afraid. Well, okay, so maybe she was, but he needed to know, and she needed to tell him. She threw open the back door, intending to run if she had to. She just didn’t think she would nearly run him over.
Alex stood in the pale glow of the back porch light, his arms folded as he leaned against his truck in the carport. She couldn’t see the blue of his eyes, only the quiet worry on his face. Another strike of lightning sizzled. White-hot lightning. Hot enough to melt two people together if they weren’t careful. She had no intentions of being careful, not any more.
“You’re here.” Kelsey blurted out the first dumb words in her overheated mind.
“Yes. I am.”
Irish Winters is an award-winning author who dabbles in poetry, grandchildren, and rarely (as in extremely rarely) the kitchen. More prone to be outdoors than in, she grew up the quintessential tomboy on a farm in rural Wisconsin, spent her teenage years in the Pacific Northwest, but calls the Wasatch Mountains of Northern Utah home. For now.
The wife of one handsome husband and the mother of three perfect sons, Irish divides her time between writing at home and travelling the country with her man while - writing. (Seriously, what else?)
She believes in making every day count for something and follows the wise admonition of her mother to, "Look out the window and see something!"
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