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While vacationing in Utah's mountain wilderness, Lynn Nelson suddenly finds herself having to deal with her teenage daughter Rory's raging hormones. The object of Rory's passion is their guide,...
While vacationing in Utah's mountain wilderness, Lynn Nelson suddenly finds herself having to deal with her teenage daughter Rory's raging hormones. The object of Rory's passion is their guide,...
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  • While vacationing in Utah's mountain wilderness, Lynn Nelson suddenly finds herself having to deal with her teenage daughter Rory's raging hormones. The object of Rory's passion is their guide, drop-dead gorgeous Jess Feldman, a man the divorced Lynn instinctively distrusts, even as she shields herself from his blazing baby blues. But after Lynn and Rory fall off a cliff of sheared rock, Jess becomes their only hope. Risking his life, he navigates them through the impenetrable forest thousands of feet below, unwittingly plunging them into a danger more menacing than they could have imagined. Exhausted and injured, all they have is one another--a terrified child, and a man and a woman who rediscover passion in each other's arms--as they race against time for their lives.

    From the Paperback edition.

  • From the book

    Her butt hurt.Lynn Nelson stifled a groan and rubbed the offending body part with both hands. Not that the impromptu massage did much good. The ache did not abate.

    Realizing how peculiar her actions must look, Lynn dropped her hands and cast an embarrassed glance around to see if anyone was watching. Her fellow vacationers--a group of twenty fourteen- and fifteen-year-old girls, two teachers, and two other parent chaperons like herself--all seemed to be going merrily about the business of setting up camp for the night. Nary a watcher in sight. Nor a fellow butt-rubber, either.

    Did they all have buns of steel?

    Apparently. No one else seemed to be walking around as if she had a corncob shoved up where the sun don't shine. No one else even limped.

    "Did you find what was bothering him yet?" The speaker was a wiry, twenty-something pony wrangler whose name, Lynn thought, was Tim. Dressed in jeans and boots, with a cowboy hat shoved down over his short blond curls, Tim looked every inch at home on the range. Which, Lynn had already guessed, was the idea.

    "Not yet." Lynn cast a look of loathing at the cause of her misery--a shaggy mountain pony named Hero--and retrieved the metal pick from the ground where she had stuck it moments before while she attended to more pressing needs. Grabbing the beast around the foreleg as Tim had shown her earlier, Lynn tried to pry a muddy hoof off the ground.

    What must have been a thousand pounds of sweaty, stinky horse leaned companionably against her. Its rotten-grass breath whooshed past her cheek.

    Pee-yew. Lynn remembered why she hated horses.

    "Get off, you," she muttered, shoving the animal with her shoulder, and was rewarded by a soft nicker and even more of its weight.

    Though she pulled with all her strength, the hoof didn't budge.

    "Here." Grinning, Tim moved to help her, picking up the hoof with no trouble at all and handing it to her.

    "Thanks." If her tone was sour, Lynn couldn't help it. She felt sour. And sore.

    Bent almost double, straddling a hairy, muddy animal leg, Lynn once again stabbed her pick into the mud-packed hoof that was clamped between her knees.

    Hero leaned against her. Lynn contemplated horse-icide.

    "Dig in there a little deeper and I bet you'll find a rock," Tim said.

    You'll learn to take care of your own horse, the brochure advertising the trip had promised.

    Remembering, Lynn thought, whoopee.

    Another dig, and the mess in the hoof popped free. A rock, just as predicted, packed in with a dark substance too malodorous to be mud. Yuck.

    "Good job." Tim gave her an approving pat (or maybe whack was a better word) on the shoulder. Losing her balance, Lynn staggered backward, dropping both hoof and pick. The pony stomped its foot, snorted loudly, and turned its head to look at her. If the animal had been human Lynn would have sworn it snickered.

    "Oh, sorry," Tim said, his amusement obvious as he retrieved the pick. "We'll make a horsewoman out of you yet. You'll see."

    "I can't wait."

    "Here, give him this and he'll love you forever."

    "Lucky me." Under Tim's supervision Lynn clumsily fastened a feed bag around Hero's head. The pony twitched its ears at her and began to eat.

    "Now pat him," Tim directed. Patting was not Lynn's first choice of things to do to the mangy beast, but she swallowed her less civilized impulses and complied. Hero's hairy hide felt rough as she bestowed a perfunctory pat. Turning her hand palm up, she looked down in distaste at the dirt and reddish-brown hairs left clinging to her...

About the Author-
  • Karen Robards is the New York Times bestselling author of more than forty novels, including The Midnight Hour, The Senator's Wife, Heartbreaker, and Hunter's Moon. She is the mother of three boys and lives in Louisville, Kentucky, with her husband.

  • The Philadelphia Inquirer

    "A romantic thriller, not to be missed."

  • Romantic Times "Brilliant . . . Nonstop action combines with humor and romance."
  • The Chattanooga News "A fast-paced tale."
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    Random House Publishing Group
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