I came to Montana to pay a debt. She made me want to stay.
I survived deployments that left me bloodied and bruised. How hard can one Christmas in small-town Montana be? Turns out? A lot harder than enemy fire. I owed Race Gentry my life.
So when he called in the favor—work at a friend’s sawmill for a few weeks in Lone Mountain, Montana—I couldn’t say no. What I didn’t expect was Charlotte Adams.
She’s curvy, competent, and runs her family’s sawmill like a general commanding troops. And she won’t stop looking at me like I’m something other than a washed-up ex-soldier just passing through.
I had a plan. Keep my head down, do the work, leave. Simple.
Then a snowstorm trapped us in a hotel with one bed, and my plan went to hell. Along with my control. And possibly my sanity.
