Seven Swans Bride












ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-512-8
Page Count: 83
Word Count: 20450
Rating: Sensual

Twelve Brides of Christmas



Family comes first for Abigail Whitlock. She’ll do anything to make it home to Seven Swans in time for Christmas and to attend her sister’s wedding - even if it means braving unforgiving mountainous terrain, fickle winter weather, and a captivating escort who threatens to steal her heart.

Country and duty come before all else for Major Evander Holt. He’s scheduled to arrive at his new assignment by year’s end, but a rockslide, a wily politician, and a headstrong, impetuous lady put his travel plans on hold. He doesn't need to come to her rescue, and he certainly doesn't need to fall in love with her. But there's something about Abigail he can't resist...even if it means risking his career.

Excerpt:

“There’s no wife to join you at Fort Leavenworth?”

“No. I’m not married.”

She would never admit relief at hearing those words. Major Holt was a fascinating man. She didn’t want to imagine another woman delighting in his attentions.

Ahead of them, a small circle of light appeared and grew larger and brighter as they drew closer.

“Looks like we’re nearing the end,” he said.

“Yes, it appears so.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “I know what you were doing, Major Holt.”

“Pardon?”

“You opened up about your private life to take my mind off the darkness. Thank you for doing that. It helped tremendously.” Major Holt was nothing like she expected. Beneath that formidable armor beat a strong, compassionate heart. It would be quite easy to call him friend, if not more.

“I’m glad I could be of service.”

The exit to the tunnel loomed ahead, bright and beckoning. She picked up her pace, eager to leave the eeriness behind. A few minutes later, she emerged into the sunlight. She smiled and squinted against the glare. No more darkness. From now on, their trip would be full of light and clean, dry air.

Something darted across the lip of the ravine above them, but her vision hadn’t adjusted enough to determine what it was. Most likely just another trick of the light.

The major unholstered his pistol and grabbed her elbow. “Get behind me, Miss Whitlock.”

His forceful tone snuffed out the sunlight. “What is it?”

“Wolves.”




Copyright © 2017 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.