It can be cold and brisk here in the upper Midwest, but warmth can be found in a
Hot-shot Chicago prosecuting attorney Traci Steele works tirelessly keeping rapists off the street to prevent other women from suffering the hell she’s endured, so she resists her friends’ insistence that she take a two month R&R in their California Live Oak condo—until they persuade her to help their rancher friend as a private investigator.
Though he runs the stables at Live Oak, well-muscled mustached wrangler Scott McCord much prefers working with the race horses he trains at his ranch, and he can’t believe his old friends have sent a greenhorn female to help him with horse troubles.
The improbable dance between this mismatched pair barely fits in around the escalating suspense of whoever’s after Scott’s horses. Traci is as tenacious in her sleuthing as she is terrified about her inability to ever love a man. Can Scott succeed in gentling her - like he does his horses - before she flees in panic?
Here’s a peek at their banter:
"You were right," Traci exclaimed, "this pie is scrumptious."
"So, tour guide," she said, "we're at forty-five hundred feet and still only fifty miles from the ocean. That boggles the mind. And we're sharing a heavenly pie. What else should I know about this quiet place?"
Traci kicked him under the table. "What do you know about big cities? I find solitude out on the lake. Sometimes even in a park."
Breathing at last, she countered, "I'm not worried. You wouldn't leave your horses for more than a couple days." She glanced at her watch. "There are a couple more art galleries that I want to browse before they close. We should be going."