Trapped with the Blizzard
Excerpt from The Billionaire's Power Trip
Trapped with the Blizzard
by
Adele Huxley
This book is work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book contains explicit material and is intended for readers 18 years or older.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of any wordmarks mentioned in the following fiction.
Copyright ©
2015 by Adele Huxley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
All requests should be forwarded to:
[email protected]
Other books by Adele Huxley
The Tellure Hollow Series
The Billionaire’s Power Trip Series
The Kael Family Series
Join the Adele Huxley mailing list and you’ll…
- be the first to know about sales and new releases
- receive bonus scenes and alternative endings
- check out behind-the-scenes content
- get the chance to become an advance reader for upcoming titles
Sign up today and I’ll send you a steamy exclusive short story,
STRIP
, written only for my fans!
A note from the author
In the 1958-59 season, Mount Shasta Ski Bowl in Northern California received an epic amount of precipitation. In February alone, the area was pounded with 236 inches of snow. That’s nearly 20 feet (6 meters for my metric friends)… enough to cover a two story house. The bulk of this snow came during a five-day period. The area, gripped in the middle of a blizzard, was buried under 14.5 feet of the white stuff! While these storms are thankfully far and few between, they can happen.
Also…
While not necessary to enjoy the following story, you might want to pick up
Troubled
before getting started. This short story gives a little background to Dani Marsh and her home life before arriving in Tellure Hollow!
December 21st
“Another fire has turned deadly. A 19-year-old woman has been found dead after a nighttime blaze in Tellure Hollow started late last night. Jen Wachowicz is live at the scene but first, a look at the weather. Dan?”
The broadcast flipped to a middle-aged man with a middle-American accent. “Thank you, Hillary. As you can see, this storm is a monster and still hasn’t finished growing yet. We’ve been keeping an eye on it and the system seems to have shifted slightly. The jet stream is dipping down from the north a lot further than we originally expected while this swirl of moisture from the south is going to sit and rotate. This could mean one of two things.” The TV flashed with a graphic depicting two possible paths the storm could take. One showed the storm system shearing off to the north, missing us by hundreds of miles. The second, less likely track put the storm almost dead center on Tellure Hollow.
“The storm has the potential to dump two to three feet of snow in some locations,” the weatherman continued. “Other spots, mainly in the mountains, may see twice as much. There are a lot of variables at work with this storm, so there’s plenty of opportunity for this track to change. Anyone in this area,” he said, gesturing to a broad swath of the Rocky Mountains, “should keep an eye on this evolving situation.”
“Dan, what’s the timing of this storm?” Hillary asked.
“Well, Bing Crosby would be happy,” he said with a fake smile. “Timing for this storm in our area should mean we’ll have a very white Christmas. Back to you.”
“Thank you, Dan. As we reported at the top of the hour, the small mountain town of Tellure Hollow has been rocked by yet another fire, this time, with deadly consequences. We now go live to Jen at the scene. Jen?”
The young reporter had her finger in her ear, the bright camera lights washing out the layers of makeup plastered on her face. Wide-eyed, she jumped at the introduction. “Yes, thank you, Hillary. Residents are shocked by the latest development in the ‘Market Price Pyro’ arson spree. The charred remains of the building you see behind me is all that is left of a vacation rental. 19-year-old Rachel Swank, a Denver native, was staying in the cabin with five others. The teenage friends had minutes to escape when the fire broke out in the early morning hours.”
The TV cut to a prerecorded scene. A distressed young woman with tears streaking her face stood wrapped in a rough blanket. She stared at the cabin in disbelief as she spoke into the microphone. “My boyfriend smelled the smoke first. We were able to crawl out on the deck. By the time we realized Rachel wasn’t with us, it was… there was no way.”
The camera returned to Jen’s somber face. “Firemen have confirmed the smoke detectors were stripped of batteries prior to the fire. Because of the incendiary materials used to start the blaze, and the letter found pinned to a tree at the scene, police are pinning this fire on the same arsonist who has plagued the area for weeks. Residents are asked to remain vigilant and report any suspicious behavior.”
“I understand the police have not yet released the letter.”
“That’s right,” Jen nodded. “If this letter matches the pattern of the others, it will contain an estimated value of the burned property in dollars. Police have reason to…”
I turned off the TV, set the remote on the table with a trembling hand, and spoke without looking at Bryan. I was afraid if I did, the tiny hold over my emotions might crumble.
“You recognized the cabin, right?”
He sighed and leaned forward to put a hand on my back. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
I rolled my eyes. “How many times have we gotten ourselves into trouble by ignoring the obvious? There’s a connection here. I can feel it.”
“Maybe there is, but that doesn’t mean we have anything to do with it. Other things can happen in Tellure Hollow that don’t involve us, you know?” he quipped. “The world doesn’t revolve around us.”
I didn’t completely believe that, but I snorted despite myself. “Of course it does. We’re the most important people in this town,” I chuckled quietly.
“Come on,” Bryan comforted, sliding an arm around my waist. “Don’t borrow trouble. Let’s get Jack fed, start dinner, and enjoy a quiet night.”
“A quiet night?” I scoffed. “With Miss Moody stomping around upstairs? What if she brings the cloud down with her?” Still, sitting so close to him was giving me all sorts of ideas.
“We’ll put on America’s Got Talent or something equally lame to scare her back to her bedroom,” Bryan added.
“Well, aren’t you full of solutions?” I bumped his shoulder with mine, still trying to shake the sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s me, solving the world’s problems, one compromise at a time.”
December 22nd
“Can I get an ETA on skiers at base lodge, over?” I asked into the walkie-talkie.
I gazed across the growing crowd, fixed a smile on my face, and hoped they saw an air of calm. Inside, I was absolutely shitting bricks. It was my first time in charge of the Festival of Lights and we’d been forced to move it forward two days because of the storm. Everything had to be perfect. Even though I’d married Bryan and have the last name of Marsh, I was still a bit of an outsider in Tellure Hollow. This was my chance to impress the town.