CAN SHE TRUST A MYSTERY MAN?
Stranded in a blinding snowstorm, Laurel Adams must pin her hope of survival on a handsome stranger. The single mother and her teen daughter take refuge in his remote Rocky Mountain cabin. But Laurelâs anything but safe when she discovers a dead body in her trunkâ¦and becomes the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Her rescuer, millionaire David Greene, knows what itâs like to be accused. Three years ago he was arrested for a crime he didnât commitâan unsolved case that still haunts him. With the clock ticking, can they stop a cold-blooded killer with deadly ties to them both?
I canât lose her.â¦
David gunned the engine, trailing Laurelâs car.
When he drew up behind her, her brake lights winked at him in a pair of short bursts. A deliberate move. She wasnât trying to lose him. She needed help.
Redness edged Davidâs vision. If he got to this guy before the copsâ No, he couldnât let fury cloud his mind. He clamped down on his emotions.
Laurel turned into a mall entrance and he signaled to follow, but another vehicle surged in front of him. Just that fast, he lost her.
Eternal seconds later, as he drove around to the other side of the lot, his heart leaped. There was her car, the driverâs door wide-open.
David slammed on the brakes and ran to her car. Empty!
He stared wildly around, but saw nothing. His shoulders slumped. When she needed him the most, heâd failed the woman who meant more to him than his next heartbeat.
Why did he realize how precious she was nowâwhen he might never get the chance to tell her?
JILL ELIZABETH NELSON
writes what she likes to readâfaith-based tales of adventure seasoned with romance. By day she operates as housing manager for a seniorsâ apartment complex. By night she turns into a wild and crazy writer who can hardly wait to jot down all the exciting things her characters are telling her, so she can share them with her readers. More about Jill and her books can be found at www.jillelizabethnelson.com. She and her husband live in rural Minnesota, surrounded by the woods and prairie and their four grown children, who have settled nearby.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
âProverbs 31:30
To all who have passed through the fire of testing and chosen the high road with God, who makes them over in His image; to all the single parents committed to raising their children right in a âgone wrongâ world.
ONE
âMo-o-om! Look out for the ditch!â
Carolineâs squeal rippled like a minor earthquake down Laurel Adamsâs spine. Her death grip on the steering wheel shot pain up her forearms as she hauled the car away from the telltale crunch of gravel beneath the tires.
She squinted into the smothering blanket of white. Faint streaks of yellow winked on her left-hand side. Yes, she was again in her driving lane.
A long breath eased from her throat as she let up another notch on the accelerator. They were crawling along at barely thirty-five miles per hour. She navigated more by feel than by sight. At least it was daytimeâthe middle of the afternoon, actually, though only her watch gave much assurance that the sun was overhead somewhere.
None of the news services had predicted this pre-Thanksgiving storm in the Rocky Mountains that had swooped out of nowhere and swallowed them in its howling maw. If sheâd had any warning, she would have cancelled her speaking engagement at YMCA of the Rockies, stayed snug in Denver and dealt with her daughterâs attitude in the comfort of their own home.
âCanât we turn around and go back?â Carolineâs mocha-brown gaze pleaded with her mother.
âIâm sorry, sweetie.â Laurel shook her head. âWe must be getting close to Estes Park. Itâs safer to try to get that far and take shelter than to head home and hope we drive out of the storm.â
Caroline scowled and let out a loud sniff. The girl had made no secret that she didnât want to come along on her momâs speaking engagement to the âpraying and graying set.â Sheâd begged to stay with their next door neighbor Janice, Laurelâs best friend, like she often did when her mother traveled. Laurel hadnât consented this time, for her daughterâs own goodâor so sheâd thought. In twenty-twenty hindsight, Caroline physically safe with Janice trumped Laurelâs intention to use this trip as an opportunity for a heart-to-heart.
She spared a glance toward the teenagerâs sullen profile. Caroline was blooming into a pretty young woman, but at the moment she was more the pouty child. The girlâs dark expression drew lines across her high forehead beneath a sleek cap of honey-blond hair and pinched a slender, straight nose into a sharp beak.