In a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss, a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together.
Drew McGovern is living for two. Her fiancé, Colby, used to savor the feeling of a powerful gale, the rain pelting his face as the sky grew dark—until a shocking tragedy struck him down. Drew’s still grieving his death a year later when she bumps into some of his old storm chasing buddies. For reasons she can’t explain, she volunteers for the next tornado. But when she reconnects with Colby’s best friend, Aiden O’Neal, Drew gets a breath of fresh air that stirs the ashes of her broken heart.
Aiden doesn’t trust himself around Drew. He’s wanted this girl for a long time—long enough to remember the stab of jealousy he felt the first time he saw her in Colby’s arms, long enough to remember the tears that fell as they buried the man they each still miss. Now he’s trying his best to behave himself. But when the wind ruffles Drew’s hair and puts a sparkle in her eye, Aiden can’t resist the urge to hold her close. And when it comes to true love, he’s holding out hope that lightning strikes twice.
Includes a special message from the editor, as well as an excerpt from another Loveswept title.
Cindy Jameson ran a hand over her freshly highlighted blond hair as she approached the salon’s reception desk.
“I love it,” I said of her new cut, color and style.
“Me too,” she said, grinning. “When I hit the lotto I’m hiring Shayla as my personal stylist.”
I smiled and typed a few numbers into the computer, giving her a total for her visit.
“So how are you, Drew?” She took out her checkbook and gave me a sympathetic look.
I’d gotten used to the look. In a small town like Lipton, everyone knew everyone. For the past year, I’d been unable to go anywhere without getting the look. I reminded myself it was because people cared.
Well, mostly. It was sometimes because they were gossips mining for information.
“I’m good,” I said, busying my hands with organizing papers on the desk.
“Really?” Cindy’s tone was skeptical.
I sighed inwardly. Cindy had been in my high school class. We hadn’t been close then. I was tired of people who actually knew me asking how I was, let alone people like her.
Besides, when I said I was good, I either got a skeptical no, you’re not look or a surprised you must be a cold bitch look. I couldn’t win.
“Really,” I said, taking the check she handed me.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Last week had marked one year since Colby’s death. Everyone knew it because of an article in the local paper with the headline, one year later, mother honors son’s life. Carla had set up a scholarship fund with Colby’s life insurance money. I’d cried—happy tears, for once—when she told me about it. It would’ve made him proud.
But now that it had been a year, people were focused on my social life. Or rather, lack thereof.
“No,” I said to Cindy. “Between work and friends and family, I’m pretty busy.”
It was sort of true. My only friends were Shayla and Jackie. I was living in the basement apartment at Shayla’s house. As soon as Daniel moved for school, I’d left our mom’s house, too. There was nothing good left there. And those marathons of Law and Order I watched every weekend, well, they were close enough to friends.
“Do you feel ready?”
I tried not to cringe. Another no-win question.
“Because I know someone,” Cindy continued. “My brother’s friend Zane. Remember him? He was three years ahead of us in school.”
“Uh . . .” I tried to think of a tactful way to brush off the idea. Truth was, looking for a man had never been my style. I hadn’t been looking for Colby when I’d run into him at the grocery store. Specifically, the produce section. He’d loved telling the story of how he impressed me with his melon-squeezing skills.
“Drew!” Jackie cried from behind her styling chair. “Crap, I am so sorry. I need some color mixed right now. I ran out.”
I shook myself out of the daze I was in. “Oh.”
“Call me sometime,” Cindy said, waving and ducking out of the salon.
I went to the small room where the stylists mixed hair color and looked around, confused. I’d never mixed color before, and Jackie knew it.
Peeking around the doorframe, I looked at her. “Do you really need color mixed?”
“No. I just wanted to get rid of Cindy. Since when is your personal life any of her business?”
About the Author
Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.