In a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss, a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together.
Drew McGovern is living for two. Her fiancé, Colby, used to savor the feeling of a powerful gale, the rain pelting his face as the sky grew dark—until a shocking tragedy struck him down. Drew’s still grieving his death a year later when she bumps into some of his old storm chasing buddies. For reasons she can’t explain, she volunteers for the next tornado. But when she reconnects with Colby’s best friend, Aiden O’Neal, Drew gets a breath of fresh air that stirs the ashes of her broken heart.
Aiden doesn’t trust himself around Drew. He’s wanted this girl for a long time—long enough to remember the stab of jealousy he felt the first time he saw her in Colby’s arms, long enough to remember the tears that fell as they buried the man they each still miss. Now he’s trying his best to behave himself. But when the wind ruffles Drew’s hair and puts a sparkle in her eye, Aiden can’t resist the urge to hold her close. And when it comes to true love, he’s holding out hope that lightning strikes twice.
Includes a special message from the editor, as well as an excerpt from another Loveswept title.
My job was to shampoo, condition and make light conversation. I also waxed the occasional upper lip, though I wasn’t licensed to do it. I wouldn’t touch brows, though. That took finesse. An upper lip was hard to mess up.
I conditioned and rinsed Mrs. Landon and wrapped a towel around her head. When she sat up, she passed me a couple folded bills.
“Thank you, Drew. I hope Colby’s okay.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Landon. Bet you’re looking forward to summer.”
“You have no idea,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s been a long year.”
My boss Shayla called Mrs. Landon over to her chair and I went to the front desk to check messages and return calls. I was closer to the TV, and I could read the headlines now.
nine confirmed dead . . .
factory leveled by storm . . .
couple narrowly escapes twister . . .
I swallowed hard. Every time Colby left for a storm-chasing trip, I felt a surge of pride. He was brave and bold. He cared about others enough to go away for weeks at a time in hopes of saving lives. It wasn’t thrill-seeking for him. The leader of his five-man crew was a meteorologist running a research project. They studied weather patterns to predict and identify bad weather so people could take cover when storms were approaching. But the nature of the work always put them at risk.
They were safe, I mentally reassured myself as I returned calls and scheduled appointments. He was only twenty-six, but he’d been doing this for almost a decade. He’d been shown the ropes by the father of one of his friends and had fallen hard for storm chasing.
Colby knew I wasn’t a woman who needed constant reassurance. I trusted him in every way. I wasn’t so self-absorbed that I thought he’d stop to call me while searching for people buried in rubble.
I tried to split my focus between working and watching CNN. But the more time that passed without my phone buzzing with an incoming text, the harder it became to think of anything but Colby.
Shayla locked the salon door after her last customer left and turned to me with a concerned expression.
“Any word?” she asked.
I shook my head silently.
“You go on home, sugar. I’ll clean up tonight.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I said. “I need to stay busy while I wait to hear from him. Plus, I don’t have cable at home. Okay if I leave the TV on while I clean?”
“Of course,” she said, waving dismissively. “I can stay and help if you want some company.”
“I’m lousy company right now.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks. All I can do is wait.”
She came over and hugged me tight, her familiar powdery-sweet scent reassuring me. Shayla co-owned the salon with another stylist, Jackie, and they were the best bosses I could ask for.
“Text me when you hear from him,” she said.
I followed her to the door and locked it behind her. Then I cranked up CNN and monitored the coverage as I swept hair from the salon’s tiled floor.