Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for J.C. McKenzie’s Carus Series
Be My Love
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
“Sometimes
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Candlelight probably wasn’t a great idea.
It wouldn’t exactly dampen the growing tension in the cabin, but at least it would distract her from the near-naked man a few feet away.
After searching a few drawers, Brenna found the matches. She milled around, lighting candles and placing them in the kitchen and living room. The soft light flooded the cabin, adding shadows and the soft fragrance of vanilla. She didn’t use all of them. The candles and flashlight batteries needed to last. They might be holed up here for days.
Days.
Alone with Eric Buchanan in a candle-lit, secluded cabin.
Another deep breath.
She switched off the flashlight and turned to Eric. He sat in front of the fire, leaning back and supporting himself with his arms. The light from the roaring fire licked his chest and highlighted his well-defined abs.
As if he sensed the weight of her attention, he turned, and his green gaze locked with hers. Images overtook her mind—their naked bodies entangled in the dancing light of the fire, his hard body pressed against hers, Eric leaning back wearing the same content expression he wore now as she straddled him.
A little devil popped up on her shoulder. You could have that.
Praise for J.C. McKenzie’s Carus Series
“If you’re looking for a blend of action, humor, and a cast of awesome characters with a side of romance, don’t miss out on this series. Seriously. It rocks.”
~C.J. Burright, Author of Wonderfully Wicked
~*~
“[SHIFT HAPPENS has] action, sexual tension galore, alpha males, a stubborn heroine that you don’t want to tick off, a smidgen of romance, some suspense, loads of danger, and a uniqueness that will have you deeply hooked.”
~Brenda Demko, Crazy Four Books
~*~
“Sassy, snarky action, packed with wonderful one-liners and irreverent laughs, J. C. McKenzie delivers a wonderful paranormal romance in BEAST COAST. Move over, Sookie Stackhouse. Andrea McNeilly is officially my new favorite supe.”
~Katie O’Sullivan, Author of My Kind of Crazy
~*~
“I fell in love with this series in SHIFT HAPPENS and continued loving it in BEAST COAST. Ms. McKenzie has a fun style of writing, part humor, part sass that rounds out a good plot.”
~Karilyn Bentley, Author of Demon Lore
~*~
“[CARPE DEMON] is a fast paced action packed novel that kept me on the edge of my seat from page one. I can’t wait to see what Andy gets herself in to next.”
~Paranormal Romance & Authors that Rock (5 Fangs)
Be My Love
by
J. C. McKenzie
A Candy Hearts Romance
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Be My Love
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by J. C. McKenzie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by RJ Morris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2016
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0416-8
A Candy Hearts Romance
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
This story is dedicated
to all the lovers
who believe in second chances.
Acknowledgments
Big hearty thank-yous go to:
* My awesome critique partners and beta readers: Calisa Rhose, Charlotte Copper, Karilyn Bentley, and Shelly Chalmers.
* The Wild Rose Press for publishing this story.
* R.J. Morris for the fun cover.
* My super-fab editor Lara Parker.
* My supportive family, friends and readers.
* My amazing husband and son. Love you guys.
“Sometimes
you don’t have the words
to express your feelings.”
~NECCO, creator of Sweethearts
What was Brenna thinking? Why had she insisted on travelling to her parents’ remote cabin to spend Valentine’s Day weekend by herself? She could’ve curled up with books in her own apartment, but nooooo…the call of the wild, a crackling log fireplace, and the stillness the city couldn’t offer beckoned like a late night lover.
She reached for another candy heart, a childish family tradition, but probably as romantic as her weekend would get. If only—
The old pickup truck swerved, fishtailing on the snow-packed road. Black ice. Her heart convulsed as she clutched the steering wheel and tried to regain control.
Brenna’s truck hit a snow drift. The engine revved, and the truck launched in the air. Sudden weightlessness consumed her. Time slowed. As if by sheer brain power alone, the vehicle hovered midflight on its path toward a massive snowbank and inevitable impact. Instead of any survival instincts, the stupidity of her decisions consumed her.
Death by candy. Perfect. What a fitting way to go.
Brenna’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. Sweat broke out and prickled her skin. Time sped up. No longer stuck on pause, the truck continued to barrel toward the snow bank. Before impact, she released the steering wheel and covered her head with her arms.
Images flashed through her memory—hot summer road trips with her girlfriends, Christmas with her parents, her brother’s cheeky grin as he pulled her pigtails, and her first true kiss from a boy with sandy brown hair and piercing green eyes.
The truck struck the hard-packed, unforgiving snow bank. The impact jarred the vehicle, crunching metal. Brenna whipped forward. Her seatbelt snagged and dug into her chest. Her forehead smacked her arms before bashing into the steering wheel. Pain erupted in her skull. Her head snapped back. Everything went black.
****
Eric cursed his family and their not-so-subtle attempts to set him up. Again. Not only was Heather Dufaine a shallow airhead with the personality of puff cereal, but snowmobiling as a storm rolled in had to be the dumbest idea ever.
The low dipping sun cast the hills and valleys of snow in sporadic shadows. Night fell fast in the B.C. Rockies. His machine charged up another bank. He slowed as the wind blew another gust of snow across his path, and his visibility fell from ten percent to zero.
Heather had insisted on going out, and his family encouraged him to indulge her. As if she was some petulant child threatening a tantrum. Heck, one look at her pouty face confirmed his guess wasn’t far off.
Why on earth his parents wanted her as a daughter-in-law had stumped him for all of two seconds. Her “daddy” and his father were judges, and the idea of a marriage between two prominent families appealed to both mothers. It fit into their grand plans of world domination, uniting one elite family after another.
Luckily, he’d convinced Heather a half-hour into snowmobiling the conditions were too dangerous, and he’d returned her in one piece to his family’s cabin with the mistaken bel
ief he cared for her.
He certainly didn’t wish her harm. It wasn’t her fault she’d been raised entitled, and brainwashed into believing happiness only fit in a certain box.
Happiness.
What would he know about that?
The only time he found true happiness in the arms of a woman was a long time ago, and the moment so short, it was fleeting at best. Sometimes he questioned whether it even happened. Now, he found enjoyment in the wilderness, with the sharp scent of pine and the cold bite of the air.
Eric tucked his head and charged his snowmobile over another ridge. The frozen air sliced over him, and he braced as the machine landed and sped up the next bank.
Heather had lost her favorite pink mittens. When he’d first spotted the delicate things, he’d suggested she wear hardier gloves to protect her sensitive skin. She’d opted to follow his advice, but instead of leaving her own mittens at the cabin, she tucked them in her back pocket. When he’d finally herded her to the cabin, she discovered they’d fallen out.
She cried.
Over pink mittens.
If he hadn’t already known, that moment would’ve confirmed no future existed between them. He leapt at the chance to retrieve the stupid mittens. Anything to escape the small cabin and get away from his meddling parents.
Now, he raced around as the snow storm set in, with no real intent to find any pink accessories, and enjoyed a few moments of freedom without the incessant nagging of his mom, or bragging of his father. As the conditions worsened, however, he cursed his own stupidity along with his parents.
He shouldn’t have taken the route to pass the Jones’ cabin. Of course, Brenna wouldn’t be there. Although her parents and brother visited the vacation cabin often, Brenna hadn’t returned since the summer after high school graduation.
Brenna Jones.
An image of dark elfin eyes framed with brown-black hair flashed across his mind.
Ten years later and he still thought about her. He’d been such a jerk. All through school, he’d liked her, but unlike the cheerleaders and debutants, he had no idea how to act around smart and intelligent Brenna Jones.
Apparently, his default mode was douchebag.
He’d behaved like a boy with a crush—not the love-sick puppy kind, but the kick-her-shins type. He had no delusions of what Brenna thought of him. She hated him, and told him so the summer before she left for university.
The summer he’d had his chance to make things right.
The summer he’d ruined his chances forever.
More snow drifts moved across his path and blurred his vision. He slowed the snowmobile. Night approached, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. Almost full white-out.
Maybe he should turn around and stay at the Jones’ cabin. He might not make it back to his parents’ place.
Too far. He’d come too far.
A strong gust of wind parted the curtain of white and cleared a path ahead. Something red flickered through the drifts of snow.
What the hell was that?
Eric leaned forward, hovering over the handles. A red light winked at him.
A taillight?
The wind blew hard again, forcing another break in the whiteness, and revealing the tailgate of an old pickup truck—the kind his parents used to drive before tin and plastic replaced steel.
Eric cursed and punched the gas.
****
Brenna’s head pounded as her vision cleared. Blood trickled from her forehead and mouth. Her tongue ached from when she’d bitten down, and her gums hurt as if her teeth still rattled. The smell of coffee permeated the truck. Her travel mug lay open on the seat beside her, and the remains of glorious caffeine trickled down the inside of the windshield and onto the dash. The heart-shaped candies she’d been munching on lay scattered across the cab.
The wind outside muffled any potential sound except the buzzing of her head. Snow covered the cracked windows, and the heat had long since leeched out, leaving Brenna shivering in the cold. The air whistled through the glass and around the truck, but looking around provided little information.
Snow, snow and more snow.
So much snow, it blanketed her vision to the outside world. She didn’t dare open her door or window. As chilled as her bones were now, outside would be colder.
She wiggled her toes. Yup, still working. Fingers? Fine. Body? Needed a long soak in a bathtub, but everything seemed okay. She reached over and plucked a candy heart from the passenger seat. It read, CHILL OUT. How fitting. She popped the sweet candy in her mouth and paused to let the flavour coat her mouth as her racing heart slowed down. With shaking hands, she leaned forward and turned the key to the ignition. The engine chugged before choking out. She tried again.
“Come on!” she pleaded.
Nothing.
She tried again.
“Come on, baby.” The engine sputtered, but quickly died.
Old Blue, her beloved truck, was dead. Well, technically, it was her father’s truck. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and touched the screen. No service. Of course. Not exactly a surprise. Service up here was shoddy at best, cutting in and out, and she was practically encased in a snow-tomb.
What the hell would she do?
No one came up here. Especially not in a blizzard. She was probably the only idiot within a fifty kilometer radius. With night falling, walking through deep snow in a winter storm surrounded by a forest with wolves might prove fatal. She could wait out the storm, but she might get snowed in even more, which might also prove fatal.
Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.
Brenna turned to haul the emergency kit from the backseat. Pain lanced across her body. Her sore chest complained, and her knees ached. Her vision swam at the sudden movement, and the dull throb behind her eyes intensified.
Brenna reached to unclip her seatbelt. The button jammed.
“Crap!” She yanked on the buckle, but it remained cemented in. With gritted teeth, she turned and tried to grab the kit again. She stretched her arm out, fumbling with her fingers to grip the strap.
A little farther!
With a sucked in breath, she pushed against the strap as it dug into the bruised flesh between her breasts and thrust her hand out. Pain streaked down her limbs and exploded in her back. She grabbed the strap and hauled the bag out from the backseat. A deep sigh escaped her lungs, and she leaned back. She panted and waited for the pain to ebb.
With a blanket, her jacket, toque, and gloves, she’d survive the night and try her luck in the morning. With the Buchanan’s as the nearest cabin other than her parents’, she doubted a rescue would happen. Besides… She’d rather the snow’s company than the Buchanan’s son.
Brenna reached forward and pulled her keys from the ignition. She nestled into her jacket and hunkered down for a long, lonely night. Maybe a patrol would brave the elements, and she’d be saved by the man of her dreams.
Brenna snorted.
That would never happen. She had the worst luck with men.
****
Something tapped against the window to her left. Brenna’s eyes fluttered open. Her vision remained blurry for a couple of blinks before clearing. A dull throb continued to plague her head, and her whole body ached as if one giant bruise covered it.
“Anyone in there?” a man bellowed. With snow and glass in the way, distorted sound trickled through the cab. Ice had begun to form on the edges of the window, freezing the air she breathed out as it condensed on the pane. Only a few spots remained bare, but she could only make out a dark shadow on the other side of the glass.
The man brushed the snow and ice from the driver’s side window. Her limbs regained feeling as she watched. Her brain started processing, like Old Blue’s sputtering motor. Someone was actually here. Outside her truck. In a blizzard. When the man cleared a circle, he placed his head and hands against the glass, blocking out the fading light and the gusting wind.
“Are you okay?” he yelled.
A helmet with a visor covered most of his face, but his square jaw with stubble and full lips hinted at good looks.
What the hell, Brenna? Getting saved in a snow storm and checking out the rescuer?
“I…I think so,” she called back. When she shifted in her seat, stiff muscles protested. Well, maybe not that okay. “Just sore.”
“I’m going to get you out of there,” he yelled. “Hold on.”
His voice held a familiar quality, something rough and rugged, but Brenna was beyond caring. The cold had soaked to her bones, and her body trembled.
The man yanked on the truck’s door. It groaned, and shook the whole vehicle, but remained shut. He tried the door for the backseat. Same thing. Brenna was encased in an ice cube.
“It’s stuck!” he yelled.
No shit.
His dark frame moved away from the glass, letting the diminishing light back in. Suddenly, his bulk appeared at the passenger side. He yanked on both doors, one at a time, shaking the truck again, but neither budged. The man’s presence faded away in a white cloud of snow.
The howling wind continued to hammer the truck. The glow of white snow faded as the sun continued its descent.
The man didn’t reappear.
Crap! Had he left?
Even if he went for help, Brenna didn’t want to be alone. Her stiff muscles whined as she shifted in her seat to peer out the window. He might be a stranger, but he was also her only hope for getting out of here. Her heart beat fast in her chest, and her skin prickled with unease. A shadow loomed across the driver’s side of the truck again, and she let out an audible sigh. Normally, a shadow like that would scare the crap out of her, but this one meant safety.
Or did it?
She stiffened. Her blood froze to match the temperature outside. She didn’t know this man. What if he was crazy? He had a snowmobile out in a blizzard. No sane man would do that.
She needed to get out of the truck first, then figure out what to do. Reaching into the center console, she fished out the flashlight. She stashed it in her jacket pocket just in case the mystery man got any ideas.
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