Into The Storm
Can she finally stop running?Horse trainer Shelby Doucette never bothers to unpack her bags. With no roots, no ties and no fixed address but her granddad's old sedan, she's avoided emotional connections, and eluded her past, for fourteen years. Get in, do the job, get out. That's always been her way. Until she meets Jake.Widower Jake Cameron is unlike any man she's ever known, but that doesn't mean he can be trusted. He has a way of sneaking through her defenses, a way of making her want to stay for good. But being with Jake would mean finally facing her past. And heading directly into the storm…
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Can she finally stop running?
Horse trainer Shelby Doucette never bothers to unpack her bags. With no roots, no ties and no fixed address but her granddadâs old sedan, sheâs avoided emotional connections, and eluded her past, for fourteen years. Get in, do the job, get out. Thatâs always been her way. Until she meets Jake.
Widower Jake Cameron is unlike any man sheâs ever known, but that doesnât mean he can be trusted. He has a way of sneaking through her defenses, a way of making her want to stay for good. But being with Jake would mean finally facing her past. And heading directly into the storm...
âWhat am I going to do?â
Stranger licked the side of her face.
âYouâre no help.â She shoved the dog in mock anger. âThe longer we stay, the harder itâll be to leave.â She buried her face against his rough fur. For thirteen years, caution had been her lodestar, warning her not to put out tentative roots.
How had she let Jake Cameron sneak past her defenses? His pain speaking to hers? Not enough reason to trust, but she did trust him.
One summer, her parents had rented a cottage on a barrier island in the Gulf. She had been a fearless child, dashing into the surf, entranced by the schools of small fish bumping her legs with their noses. One day she ventured out too far and a rogue wave knocked her down and sucked her under. Before she could panic, her father scooped her up. She remembered the strength of his arms and the absolute certainty nothing could harm her as long as she was with him.
With Jake, she felt a whisper of that long-ago comfort.
She couldnât afford that indulgence.
After living in New England for decades, Iâve finally returned to the loves of my youth, the Rocky Mountain West and Western horsemanship. Iâm also an avid fan of professional bull riding and love nothing better than long cross-country road trips to watch live competition. Into the Storm combines all three passions when a traveling horse trainer drops into the lives of a Colorado rancher and his two sons involved with bull riding.
I hope youâll enjoy the tale as much as Iâve loved telling it. Please write me if you have any questions or just want to chat. Iâd love to hear from you. You can contact me at [email protected] or find me on Twitter, @HelenDePrima.
Happy reading. I hope you enjoy the ride.
Helen DePrima
HELEN DePRIMA grew up on horseback on her grandfatherâs farm near Louisville, Kentucky. After spending a week on a dude ranch in Colorado when she was twelve, Helen fell in love with all things Western.
She spent wonderful weeks on the same ranch during her high school summers. After graduation she headed for the University of Colorado to meet the cowboy of her dreams and live happily ever after in a home on the range. Instead she fell in love with a Jersey boy bound for vet school. She earned her degree in nursing and spent four years as a visiting nurse in northern Colorado while her husband attended Colorado State University.
After her husband graduated, they settled in New Hampshire, where Helen worked first in nursing and then rehabilitating injured and orphaned wildlife. After retirement, she turned again to earlier passions: writing and the West, particularly professional bull riding.
To my husband for keeping me focused on the dream.
Thank you
To my agent, Stephany Evans, for her persistence.
To my editor Dana Grimaldi for keeping me honest.
To my wonderful critical reader Melissa Maupin for her comments, suggestions and validation.
To Earlene Fowler for her encouragement and prayers.
To the Professional Bull Riders for inspiring me to cowboy upâlove you all!
Contents
THE CHUTE GATE flew open and the big red bull erupted into the arena. Jake Cameron swayed forward in his third-row seat, reflexively matching his sonâs moves on the bullâs back, counting the seconds from zero to eight. He surged to his feet when the horn sounded, yelling along with the sold-out crowd. The bull gave a final buck as Tom Cameron loosened his grip, slamming him hard to the dirt. Cheers turned to groans as a hoof came down on Tomâs thigh.
Jake pushed to the end of the aisle, muttering apologies and earning a sharp âWatch it, mister!â as he trod on a womanâs foot.
Tom had scrambled to his feet by the time the sports medicine team reached him. The announcerâs voice boomed over the applause. âHeâs fine, folks, and his scoreâs going to make him feel even better. Thatâs ninety-two points and the event win for Tom Cameron!â
