Winterfall (The Wasteland Trilogy #3)
Denise
A. Agnew
Thanks
Kathy for having me on your blog! My idea for this trilogy came about when I
studied super volcanoes for another novel I’m still writing. Because I like to
write about military and former military, I wondered what would happen if I put
some hot former military guys together with strong heroines caught in the
aftermath of a super volcano explosion in California. (Yellowstone isn’t the
only supervolcano in the U.S.) Although the characters are in Maine, there
would still be problems to face if a super volcano erupted in California.
Winterfall
is the third story in my Wasteland Trilogy, though there will be a novella
coming out later this year that is an addition to the trilogy.
Blurb:
A
firefighter and a former soldier have survived an apocalypse, but there is
still danger lurking in the winter light…
Firefighter
Juliet Van Pelt’s strength comes from previous adversity, but there’s an
arsonist in town who wants to crank up the heat. When threatening letters
target her, she turns to the one man she has never forgotten.
Former
Army Ranger and sniper Mark O’Day can’t forget the woman he met months ago when
their city was in chaos and they shared a dangerous moment. When opportunity
brings her into his life again and danger threatens, he knows there is no
alternative but to keep her close and never let her go.
Excerpt:
Buckleport,
Maine
October
“Damn, Van Pelt, the
way you’re polishing that tumbler is giving me ideas,” Firefighter Decker Okono
leered.
Juliet Van Pelt broke
from her trance long enough to throw a glare his way. They stood at the sink in
the kitchen area of Fire Station Three finishing kitchen duty. Soon she’d take
the mandatory forty-eight-hour time off, even if they needed every hand they
could get. Besides, her accounting job waited at home, demanding she take care
of her “day job” business. As a volunteer, she didn’t get paid, she fought
fires for free. Okono, on the other hand, was a full-fledged firefighter with a
few years under his belt and the paycheck to go with it.
She continued to dry
the glass, turning her attention back to the busy street beyond the station
house. “Keep on dreaming, Okono.”
She’d been dreaming all right. Pretending that January’s Long
Valley Super Volcano eruption in California hadn’t jacked up their world.
Hadn’t wreaked havoc across the United States. Bangor’s population had
increased tenfold since the disaster, as waves of refugees from the western
states poured into the eastern seaboard and points north. Traffic jammed the
streets, and they’d worked a record number of car wrecks in the last week.
Fires, too. The job never ended. In the months since the volcano had destroyed
the world as they’d known it, things had improved. Riots had ceased, but crime
had skyrocketed, and poverty and a general economic downturn had made life a far
grimmer situation.
She opened the cabinet
to her upper right and deposited the glass.
“Baby, there’s no need
for you to
dream,” Okono said. “I have everything you need right here inside this
uniform.”
Seriously? She almost choked on the idea of sharing anything
intimate with the ex-Navy SEAL, especially sex. Even meaningful conversation
with this goober seemed completely beyond the realm of possibility.
“I thought Navy SEALS
were supposed to be all honorable and shit,” she said, injecting toughness into
her voice.
She felt rather than
saw him bristle, and for a second wondered if she’d crossed the line. She
didn’t know him, not really. If he decided to go postal, she was in deep
kimchee. Okono grunted and rinsed another glass. He handed it to her and she
dried it thoroughly before adding it to the cabinet.
“I’m as honorable as
you’re gonna get, little lady.” His accent changed to fake southern. He was
from New Jersey. “There aren’t many good men out there, Van Pelt. A woman needs
a protector in this big, bad world. You could do worse than me.”
She laughed, but the
sound held nothing but derision. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. This is
a different world. More dangerous since Long Valley. And it isn’t getting
better anytime soon.”
Got
that right. But not this guy.
No, she didn’t want or need his protection. Especially not a man who thought
his status as a former SEAL entitled him to front row seats to everything,
including sex. He seemed to never have heard of sexual harassment, and she
could report him. Thing is, she didn’t want the conflict. She could handle his
brand of idiocy with one hand tied behind her back.
No, there were other
men...far more agreeable than Okono. Her mind flashed back to April when a
nasty fire had taken down a warehouse. A serial arsonist had been operating in
Buckleport for months now. Scores of buildings had burned and the arson
investigators hadn’t closed in on a suspect yet. During that fire she’d met a
man who continued to intrude on her thoughts day and night. Hell, he’d done more
than that. The nameless man had been part of a security team making sure
firefighters weren’t harassed by some bad-ass-wannabes. Her mind drifted to the
conversation.
The
fire had cooled down, the destruction pretty complete, the old warehouse a
smoldering ruin. They’d be here for hours more knocking down any flare ups. One
of the rednecks who’d harassed the crew stepped toward her when she’d stopped
near the ladder truck to strip off her self-contained breathing apparatus.
“Hey,
pretty lady,” the man said, his big body and ham-sized biceps showing pure
power. “What the hell are you doing out here? Women shouldn’t be taking a man’s
job.”
“What?”
she asked, not even sure she’d heard him right. She wasn’t up for games--she
was hot, tired, and grimy as hell.
He
crossed those beefy arms. “Women ain’t designed to be firefighters.”
“I’m
not taking anyone’s job, bub. I’m a volunteer. I don’t get paid.” His mouth
dropped open, but before he could say anything else stupid, she continued. “If
you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
The
man’s glare grew hot with anger. “Listen, bitch--”
“Move
along, sir,” a deeper voice said from slightly behind her.
She
turned her attention to the man the voice belonged to, and he approached with
his semi-automatic clasped in front of him. Her rescuer stood taller than six
feet and had dangerous written all over him.
The
dipwad who’d given her a hard time stepped back and held both hands up. “Hey,
hey. No need to get all violent with me, cop.”
“I’m
not a cop. Move back and let the firefighter do her job.”
Her
rescuer wore a black baseball cap, tactical or flak vest over a black t-shirt,
a pair of khaki cargo pants, and a seriously thunderous frown. She’d seen two
men and one woman pile out of an unmarked black SUV not long ago and realized
they were one of the private security teams who now supplemented police and
military in protecting the city. Security dude owned a powerful, ripped
physique that said he might have been in the military at one point. Sunglasses
and a baseball cap didn’t camouflage his craggy good looks. His dark hair,
almost black, was cut military short as well. All of that wouldn’t have
normally drawn her attention, but his voice had a certain quality...an intense,
whiskey-deep sound.
“Move
along,” the private security man said to the redneck wannabe.
When
the guy backed away and left, security dude took his glasses off. His dark
chocolate eyes held an intensity that slammed into her with a force she hadn’t
expected. She saw undeniable curiosity and attraction in the way he looked at
her, but his attention didn’t feel slimy.
“You
all right?” he asked.
“Of
course.” Defensiveness dripped from her tone. “I can handle myself.”
His
gaze swept up and down her body, the look in his eyes telling her he liked what
he saw very much. Unlike the slimeball who’d just left, the security dude’s
attention sent a wild thrill through her belly.
“I’m
sure you can,” security dude said. “But I’m here to help if you need me.”
“Oh,
don’t worry. I won’t need you.”
Her
captain called her name right then, and when she saw security dude next he was
at least fifty yards away.
After that day she
hadn’t seen him again, but God she’d dreamed about mystery security man. Hot,
sexy dreams that made no sense.
Winterfall
is out at:
Bio for Denise A. Agnew
Denise A. Agnew is the author of over 60 novels.
Denise has written paranormal, romantic comedy, contemporary, fantasy,
historical, erotic romance, and romantic suspense. Archaeology and archery have
crept into her work, and travels through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales
have added to a lifetime of story ideas. Denise is also a paranormal
investigator, Reiki Master and Certified Creativity Coach.
Visit Denise’s
websites at www.deniseagnew.com and www.creativepencoaching.com.
Learn about new releases and freebies through her
newsletter at HERE
Twitter @DeniseAAgnew
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