Pinkie Paranya
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Excerpt:
"Shush, Jennifer, don't get upset. I'm not complete, I tell you. I've nothing to offer. You deserve better."
"You're probably right." Her voice quaked just a bit with the struggle to maintain her dignity. Had she told him she loved him when they were in the midst of passion? It was hard to remember, but maybe he didn't remember, either.
He got to his feet and walked a short way to peer over the rail. When he looked at her, his face was in the shadows, his expression unreadable.
"You're a strong-minded woman, but also you're soft and romantic and mischievous. Everything a man should find exciting in a mate. And you'll find the right man soon, sweet Jenny. The wonder is that it hasn't happened before this. When you do, you'll thank me for being honest with you." He turned and walked away.
Jenny sat for a long time, even after the air was so cold that she began to shiver. She'd offered herself to this man, and he'd spurned her. Tears crowded into her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Boo crept out from behind the chair and nudged his head under her hand, as if wanting to comfort her. She was beyond comfort, and it wasn't only the cold that made her numb. How could she face him for the rest of the journey and pretend there was no distance between them?
Later, lying in her bunk with her hands behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling. Where did she go wrong? She accepted the fact that the miners saw her as one of them, a robust, sturdy survivor. Maybe not Ivar, but she didn't love Ivar. Same as Neal didn't love her.
Jenny listened to the sound of the ship plowing through the water toward Fairbanks.
Prime Catch
Ilona Fridl
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Someone is killing executives in a string of Alaskan canneries. Is it
natives because their food supply is being cut short? Or is there
another reason, another culprit? With racial tension running high,
Juneau's Sheriff Amos Darcy, a man of few words, is going to find out
who it is, come hell or high water.Deputy Sarah Lakat, a Tlingit woman, knows her job, but she wants to prove her people aren't responsible for these vicious crimes. Her family and childhood friends give her access to clues the white sheriff would never have discovered, though, and she has to realize justice must be served no matter who the murderers are.
Amos is married to his work and Sarah was badly hurt by a man in her past, yet as they work together in the investigation they grow close, facing danger and discrimination together. Can they solve the case even as they fight their attraction to each other?
Excerpt:
Every nerve in Amos’ body was alert with a flood of adrenaline. He hated putting Sarah in danger, but she was a deputy and a good shot, so he couldn’t tell her not to do her job. Halfway to the porch steps, the door banged open and Bobby stepped out with a double-barreled shotgun that he leveled at Amos. “And what would you like, Sheriff? I don’t remember inviting you over.”
“I have a warrant for your arrest in the killing of Mr. Thornton at the cannery. Now, we can do this easy. Just pass the shotgun to me and come along peacefully.”
“The hell I will! Get off my property!”
Amos dropped and rolled as the shotgun fired, then heard answering fire and saw Bobby fold to the porch, clutching his knee. Amos ran up the steps and grabbed the abandoned shotgun while Sarah holstered her weapon and hurried to help.
Amos leaned the shotgun against the railing and slapped the handcuffs on Bobby almost simultaneously, and then he set to work cutting the knee of Bobby’s trousers to check the wound.
Bobby yelled at Sarah at the top of his lungs. “You god-damned traitor! I'm shot by a turncoat woman who won’t defend her own kind!”
“Who’s my own kind, Bobby? A band of murderous animals who kill for what they want? No, that’s not my kind.” She picked up the shotgun and pointed it at Bobby. “I prefer to be on the law-abiding side.”
January Journey
Barbara Stremikis
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Frozen rivers, ice bridges, and runaway huskies are romantic tales of
the Iditarod Sled Dog Race, until Andy Middleton moves to Alaska. She
soon discovers there is more to mushing than standing on the back of a
sled. The brooding photographer, Ryan North, who rescues her from a fall
is no help whatsoever. After she bribes him to teach her to mush, and
they are forced to spend the night in a bitter storm, Andy discovers a
talented, competent man. The last thing Ryan North wants is to get involved with the foolish redhead from SnowDen Kennels. She nearly hit him with her Jeep, and she has a temper to match her hair. While he doesn’t trust her, he admires her unfailing resilience and forthright determination.
Excerpt:
“Ohhh, so you’re the new hire.” He lifted a brow and glanced at the hole in the dog food building.
She followed his gaze, before her attention diverted to an unusually handsome profile. Dark hair curled slightly over his forehead. Tall with muscular arms, he looked to be somewhere in his early twenties. “I guess the shed needs repairs too,” she admitted.
“And you’re the girl who plans on running the Iditarod.” His lips curved into a smirk. “Cassandra, is it?”
At his skeptical tone in reference to her name and intentions, she stiffened. Alex Snowden had been talking. “I go by Andy and I’m not a girl.” At barely five feet two, she hated being misjudged. Her freckles didn’t help. “I’m twenty-one and taking online classes at the University of Alaska.” At least, she had registered for one. “I plan to be a veterinarian. That should qualify me to run the Iditarod. I also ski and have good balance.” She knew she sounded naïve.
His brows shot up. “You’re comparing ski poles with a team of huskies?” He gave a derisive laugh and nodded toward her Jeep. “Mushing the Iditarod is a lot tougher than driving a car…and a heck of a lot more dangerous. I don’t mean to sound sexist, but man-handling a sled over a thousand miles of Alaska’s roughest terrain isn’t like sitting on a cushioned seat behind a steering wheel.”
Alaska Heart
Christine DePetrillo
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Alaska is supposed to be cold, so why is Alanna Cormac on fire?
Sent on a dream assignment to Denali National Park, nature magazine writer Alanna Cormac has no intentions of falling in love with Dale Ramsden, sexy Iditarod winner. When Dale, his family, and even his eighteen sled dogs charm their way into her heart, however, Alanna's fast-track New York instincts crumble. The Alaskan landscape and the caress of a man too good to be true ignite feelings she never had time to explore before. Feelings that have her so blissfully busy she's unaware she's being watched. Judged. Targeted.
She's next.
Love will either save her or swallow her whole. Is there a difference?
Excerpt:
"When you turn around, look first. You can grab your camera after. Okay?"
"Okay." Anticipation buzzed through me. Or was it being so close to Dale?
With a little nudge, Dale spun me around, and a gasp caught in my throat. His hands closed over my shoulders, anchoring me, keeping me earthbound amongst what had to be heaven.
Rising above all the other mountains in the distance, Mount McKinley reached into the cerulean Alaskan sky like a white giant. Its peaks were arrowheads of rock encrusted in snow that glistened magically in the pink of the late afternoon sunlight. How incredibly small I was, like a speck of dust in comparison to the majesty of McKinley.
"Oh, Dale..." My voice was nothing more than a rasp. I let my pack drop to my feet and leaned back against him. He folded his arms around me and squeezed. When I thought the moment couldn't get any closer to perfection, he loosened my scarf enough to nuzzle his cold nose against my neck. Though I initially shivered at the contact, he quickly warmed the spot with the heat of his lips.
Giving McKinley another look, I turned around to face Dale. He trailed his lips over my cheek and finally to my mouth where he did things that made my head spin. Our lips met as we tasted, savored each other. Great Goddess, I had shut myself off for too long. Or maybe I'd been waiting. Waiting for him.
Whatever the case, Dale unlocked emotions in me. Trust, wanting, love. I wasn't sure what to do with any of these, but my heart thudded wildly in my chest over the prospect. My skin longed to have Dale's fingers spread across every inch of it. My lips wanted him to never stop kissing me.
"Take your pictures." The words were a whisper. "And let's go."
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