Entangled Publishing is celebrating the holidays with 25 Days of Holiday Steals. They will be spotlighting a special steal of a deal each day from December 1st through December 25th. So be sure to check back each day to see what special offer is up for grabs that day!
Today's Steal is...
North of Need by Laura Kaye is FREE December 5th only!
So be sure to grab your copy.
So be sure to grab your copy.
Desperate to escape agonizing memories of Christmas past, twenty-nine-year-old widow Megan Snow builds a snow family outside the mountain cabin she once shared with her husband, realizing too late that she's recreated the very thing she'll never have.
Called to life by Megan's tears, snow god Owen Winters appears unconscious on her doorstep in the midst of a raging blizzard. As she nurses him to health, Owen finds unexpected solace in her company and unimagined pleasure in the warmth of her body, and vows to win her heart for a chance at humanity. Megan is drawn to Owen's mismatched eyes, otherworldly masculinity, and enthusiasm for the littlest things. But this Christmas miracle comes with an expiration—before the snow melts and the temperature rises, Megan must let go of her widow's grief and learn to trust love again, or she'll lose Owen forever.
Out of the darkness, from the heart of the howling snowstorm, a
hunched-over man staggered up Megan’s front steps. She wrenched back from the
door, her heart pounding in her chest. Panicked, she skittered behind a couch.
Who the hell could he be? Nobody could have walked or driven here
in this weather. Her breath came in fast rasps. The lights flickered again,
then again. Her eyes trailed to the fireplace tools on the hearth.
Maybe she should grab the iron poker. Just in case.
The lights wavered, struggled to hold on. From outside, a solid,
deadweight thump startled a gasp from Megan.
Help him.
The words were so quiet they might’ve been a thought, but in her
current state she still whirled, fully expecting the impossible—that someone
else was crouched next to her behind the sofa. Of course, she was alone. She
peeked around the corner of the couch, her panic subsiding into a feeling of
absurdity.
Help who? The man. Just a regular, ordinary man. Who must be in
trouble. She remembered how he seemed to stumble on the steps and the thump.
He’d fallen. She rushed from her hiding place like a sprinter at the sound of
the gun. Peering through the sidelight, she whispered, "Oh, shit."
She was right.
She tore open the door. Jesus, he was big. No one she knew from
the neighborhood, though there were always tourists renting surrounding cabins
to take advantage of Deep Creek Lake and the Wisp Ski Resort.
God, he wasn’t dressed to be out in this weather. No coat. No
shoes.
What the hell was she going to do with him?
Cold wind buffeted her and nipped at her skin, making her nearly
frostbitten cheek tingle uncomfortably. Her hesitation wavered, then dropped
away completely. What choice did she have? She couldn’t leave him out in this
blizzard.
The bitter wind sank into her bones as she stepped shoeless and
coatless—like him—onto the porch. She didn’t have to check for a pulse. Each
shallow breath sent up a small fog from his mouth. Megan crouched behind his
shoulders and wedged her hands underneath. Two fistfuls of red plaid flannel in
hand, she pulled. He barely budged as she grunted and tugged. She tried two
more times.
Shit, but it was mind-numbingly cold. "Come on, dude. Work
with me, will ya?" she muttered, her hair whipping around her face.
Megan rethought the problem and stepped around to his bare feet.
How could someone walk to this cabin without shoes? She shook her head and
crouched, back facing him, between his legs. Securing an ankle under each
armpit, she cupped his heels and pushed herself into a standing position. This
time, when she moved, he moved. The guy was so big and heavy, she felt like
Rudolph pulling Santa’s sleigh without the help of the other eight reindeer.
The warm air from inside the cabin embraced her body, its
comforting tendrils drawing her over the threshold and into the slate-covered
foyer. The lights flickered again, sending out a quiet electrical hum that
raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck. She tried to drag the man
carefully, but his head still thumped as it crossed the shallow ridge of the
doorjamb. She winced. "Sorry."
As soon as he was clear of the door, she set his feet down and ran
to close it. The indoor temperature had probably dropped twenty degrees while
she’d been outside figuring how to lug his sorry butt in.
She engaged the dead bolt, and the lights died. She gasped and
pivoted, flattened her back to the door. He lay, right where she left him,
melting snow all over her hardwoods.
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