Blurb:
Caryn Orlane has law enforcement in her blood; her father was a cop, and his father, too. She's a federal agent in northwest Montana, protecting the old forests and keeping the peace.
Levi Bradshaw also believes in protecting the forests, but has a very different MO. He's the leader of a group of eco-warriors, determined to save the trees of the Bitterroot by legal—and illegal—means. Sometimes this means allying with anti-government groups with a dangerous separate agenda.
When Caryn and Levi meet in the woods at gunpoint, their encounter ignites a spark of interest, despite operating on opposite sides of the law. When their worlds turn on them, they only grow closer. If they don’t work together, can either survive?
Excerpt:
Watching over her shoulder, she missed a thick fallen log in her path and tripped over it, falling hard on the ground, her breath snatched away for a few moments. The impact knocked the gun from her hand, and she struggled to retrieve it as the dog came crashing through the brush. The Rhodesian Ridgeback landed squarely on her, still barking, its nails driving into her back, its hot breath in her ear. She expected to feel the sharp bite of teeth at any moment. Desperate, her fingers quested forward for the gun.
A shrill whistle sounded off to her right. “Rosie, what have you got there?”
The dog bounded off her. Caryn lurched for the gun, then shoved herself up into a seated position, holding her weapon in both hands. The person who had spoken appeared in her sights. Aware of the panting animal not three feet away, she couldn’t spare a look, her attention focused on the man.
Nearly six feet tall (or was it just her perspective from the ground?), he stared down at her, seemingly in shock. Thick dark hair lay tousled across his brow, as though he’d just removed one of those ski masks. He wore a simple red plaid flannel shirt and denim jeans, with heavy nut-colored work boots. His build was athletic, and she guessed there was plenty of muscle under the fabric of his shirt and his padded black ski vest. He could have been a model in one of those outdoorsy catalogs, a perfect example of a rugged, handsome western mountain man.
At first, his warm brown eyes captured her interest. But second, his quick movement brought a handgun of his own from behind him, perhaps tucked into his belt, and he pointed it directly at her.
Author Bio:
