Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 44(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
Now my car’s stuck in a ditch, and the only one who can help me is Joel Alder, the reclusive lumberjack who lives in an old hunting cabin deep in the woods.
Joel is three years older than me, and an ex-con. Folk around these parts avoid him, but he’s always been kind to me. His strong hands, wild beard, and sun-streaked hair inspire all my dirty fantasies.
Now we’re snowed in together. On Christmas Eve. And if I’m a good girl, Joel might make all my dreams come true…
Snowed in with the Lumberjack is a short holiday romance previously published in the Backed by Love anthology.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Lainey
Fat snowflakes fly at my car, too fast for my windshield wipers to clear away. To my right, hemlocks bow under the weight of several blizzards’ worth of the white stuff. The dark forest and snowy drifts create a winter wonderland, as picturesque as a Christmas card.
My car’s chosen a beautiful place to skid off the road.
I press the gas pedal and the engine whirs. My tires spin. I’ve just made my predicament worse.
One more attempt, and I turn off the car. The windshield wipers switch off and snow sticks to the glass. The cold seeps in, too. Pretty soon the interior of my car will be below freezing.
I fight to open my door. My car is canted towards the passenger side, half in the ditch. I swing my legs around and land in shin-deep snow. The fluffy flakes aren’t so pretty when they’re coating my jeans and falling into the tops of my Ugg boots. I clamber out of my Kia, grabbing my purse as I go.
My little car makes a sad sight, stuck in the ditch. Soon it’ll be a white lump and no one will be the wiser. Snow covers everything and makes it beautiful, hiding the sorry state of affairs underneath. My accident will be hidden until things thaw.
I followed truck tracks to get this far up the mountain, but a new layer of snow is obliterating them. This road doesn’t get plowed much, if ever. If you ask folks in town who lives up here, they'd say, “No one.”
They’d be wrong. Up somewhere on this side of the mountain is an old hunter’s cabin. That's where I'll find warmth, and help. That’s where I'll find someone who can make a call for me. My cell doesn’t get service in this remote part of town.
The wind picks up and drives the snow faster into my face. The flakes stick to my eyelashes and I blink, fighting to keep my eyesight clear. I duck between the hemlocks, gripping my parka tighter around me and wishing I had brought gloves.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I didn't even make it halfway up the mountain, and it's colder out here than I expected. My winter coat might as well be a bikini for all it's doing to keep me warm.
I trudge through the shadowy woods. A hundred steps in, and I have a hitch in my side. I read somewhere that tracking through snow on cross-country skis burns more calories than any other activity, and I don't even have the skis. My body heats up fast, making my skin itch with exertion and sweat. My boots are clogged with snow and my thighs ache with the extra weight.
The forest is silent, all life buried under the white shroud. The only sounds are the huffs and hitches of my breathing and, under my coat, my thumping heart. I follow what looks like a path through the pines. With any luck, it’ll bring me to safety. If not…
The last of the light is disappearing through the trees when the trail turns and reveals a dark wooden hut. Its sides are mounted up with snow, and the windows are dark too, but a thin wisp of smoke trickles from the chimney.
A thwacking sound breaks the quiet. For a second I think I’ve imagined it, but it comes again, a hollow thud. The sound of an ax hitting wood.
"Hello?" I shiver in my boots, resisting the urge to dance back and forth. I can't feel my toes.
A shadow slants between the black tree trunks. In the low light, he looks like a frost giant with an ax in hand and snowflakes clinging to his beard. Joel Adler, the man I hoped to see.
The man of my dreams.
"Lainey," he asks in a deep voice, "what are you doing here?"
2
Joel
"My car broke down," she says. It's Lainey Stevens from town, shivering in a snow drift, with flakes crusting her clothes. Her teeth clack together.
I swear before I can stop myself, and sink my ax into a log. I stalk forward, watching her closely, but she never flinches. Other people in town give me a wide berth, but not Lainey. She works the register at her aunt Gemma’s grocery store. I see her every time I drive down to buy supplies.