Somewhere, Montana is now available!
Can Callum “Mac” Maclain make Sage Burnett believe in his love for her and save her from her stalker?
Escaping from a stalker, Sage Burnett crashes her plane on a mountain, part of the ranch owned by the man who rejected her eight years ago. She still loves him and prays he isn't around because she dreads facing him to only have him reject her again.
Callum "Mac" MacLain, the ranch owner, a Marine home on medical leave rescues her from the mountain. He persuades her to stay until she heals. He realizes he is still in love with her. Can he save her from her stalker and convince her his love is real?
Escaping from a stalker, Sage Burnett crashes her plane on a mountain, part of the ranch owned by the man who rejected her eight years ago. She still loves him and prays he isn't around because she dreads facing him to only have him reject her again.
Callum "Mac" MacLain, the ranch owner, a Marine home on medical leave rescues her from the mountain. He persuades her to stay until she heals. He realizes he is still in love with her. Can he save her from her stalker and convince her his love is real?
Meet Sage Burnett
This was not how Sage Burnett envisioned the end. She had survived Marcos Diego’s attack and managed to thwart his stalking, for the present. Had he figured out she had taken her father’s plane instead of her own? Would ditching the ELT system somewhere over the northern mountains as she flew low toward Whitehorse, Yukon Territory convince them she had crashed? Hopefully the locator beacon would die before any rescue team could discover it.
Can’t worry about that now. The bigger question is how and where to land this plane. She agonized as she stared through the white curtain surrounding her. Considering how much time had elapsed since she doubled back, she had no idea of her location.
The plane descended rapidly. Sage fought with the controls, trying to keep the nose up. The ice was getting heavier on the wings and each time she managed to climb a few feet, the engine would cut out. Just what she didn’t need, ice forming in the fuel lines. It was bad enough her visibility was practically nil in the violent snowstorm.
Again, she had to bring the nose up, but weakness spread through her, her vision turning gray around the edges. She had to concentrate to stay awake. The mountain was coming up fast. Could she belly-land her Diamond D four-seater jet in the deep snow and still be able to walk away?
Suddenly the thick, white blanket lightened to where the wiper blades kept the windshield clear and she could see the landscape below. The tops of the trees were too close for comfort. Ahead she spotted what looked like a clearing. A possible landing spot? As she reached the edge of the tree line, she eased back on the throttle. Rapidly losing altitude, the engine stalled and she quickly thrust the lever back to full throttle. In her path sat a fair sized cabin. She yanked back on the controls as the engine caught and barely managed to miss the roof.
On the far edge of the clearing appeared to be a roadway. Was it wide enough? It was hard to tell with her vision blurring. She aimed for it and dropped the throttle all the way down. The engines quit just as the belly of the plane touched down on the surface of the snow. Air speed was still up, but the nose had dipped down and now dug into the snow pack.
She had no control over the plane as it sped wildly for the opening in the trees. Instinctively she knew those two monstrous chunks of granite on either side of the opening were part of the mountain, not freestanding boulders. Although braced for the crash, she was still tossed about in her seat when the granite tore the wings from the plane in a grinding screech of metal. The forward momentum drove the fuselage on, spewing snow up over the windshield, partially burying what was left. It came to a shuddering stop, listing to the right, the weight of the damaged tail twisting it over.
Unaware her death-defying ride was over, Sage slumped unconscious, strapped into her seat. Wisps of smoke curled from under the panel in the cockpit.
Sage surfaced into a dark world filled with pain. She wanted to scream as she relived the attack by Marcos, being held down so she couldn’t move. As she came fully awake, she remembered she was in the plane, the restraints her seat harness. Marcos was nowhere near. Her face felt wet and she touched it with her fingers, tracing the long jagged cut Marcos had inflicted with his knife. They came away smeared with blood. Some of the stitches the surgeon had so meticulously placed were broken.
Looking around the cockpit, she realized the plane was not moving. She must have passed out before it crashed. Then she saw the darkness was due to the snow piled on the windshield and the side windows.
“I may be six feet under, but I’m not pushing up daisies—yet,” she mumbled.
“But I better get out of here before the weight of the snow pushes in the windshield.” When she tried to move, excruciating pain in her left knee stopped her cold.
She pulled up her pants leg ever so gently, each small movement causing her to clamp her jaw tight. As she revealed the knee, she could see the kneecap slanted partly to the side. She uttered a few unladylike curses. Her college soccer injury come back to haunt her at a very inconvenient time.
“Before I can fix this, I need to get into the passenger area,” she said. Talking aloud to herself helped her calm her fears and to focus. Contemplating any movement made her break out in a cold sweat. But she made herself inch sideways to the space between the seats in the cockpit. Nausea roiled up into the back of her throat as she scooted backward, lifting her leg over the console with both hands.
When she sat with her back against the passenger seat and her leg out in front of her, she knew what she had to do. No coach or team doctor this time to do it for her.
“Bite the bullet, Sage,” she ordered. “You can’t wait for a rescue team. They might not find you till spring thaw. You have to get out of here now.” Taking a deep breath, she placed both hands on her kneecap and gave a quick shove, at the same time snapping her leg out straight. The pain raced up her leg, through her body, to connect with her brain cells and she passed into unconsciousness.
She came to with a scream echoing around inside her head.
Can’t worry about that now. The bigger question is how and where to land this plane. She agonized as she stared through the white curtain surrounding her. Considering how much time had elapsed since she doubled back, she had no idea of her location.
The plane descended rapidly. Sage fought with the controls, trying to keep the nose up. The ice was getting heavier on the wings and each time she managed to climb a few feet, the engine would cut out. Just what she didn’t need, ice forming in the fuel lines. It was bad enough her visibility was practically nil in the violent snowstorm.
Again, she had to bring the nose up, but weakness spread through her, her vision turning gray around the edges. She had to concentrate to stay awake. The mountain was coming up fast. Could she belly-land her Diamond D four-seater jet in the deep snow and still be able to walk away?
Suddenly the thick, white blanket lightened to where the wiper blades kept the windshield clear and she could see the landscape below. The tops of the trees were too close for comfort. Ahead she spotted what looked like a clearing. A possible landing spot? As she reached the edge of the tree line, she eased back on the throttle. Rapidly losing altitude, the engine stalled and she quickly thrust the lever back to full throttle. In her path sat a fair sized cabin. She yanked back on the controls as the engine caught and barely managed to miss the roof.
On the far edge of the clearing appeared to be a roadway. Was it wide enough? It was hard to tell with her vision blurring. She aimed for it and dropped the throttle all the way down. The engines quit just as the belly of the plane touched down on the surface of the snow. Air speed was still up, but the nose had dipped down and now dug into the snow pack.
She had no control over the plane as it sped wildly for the opening in the trees. Instinctively she knew those two monstrous chunks of granite on either side of the opening were part of the mountain, not freestanding boulders. Although braced for the crash, she was still tossed about in her seat when the granite tore the wings from the plane in a grinding screech of metal. The forward momentum drove the fuselage on, spewing snow up over the windshield, partially burying what was left. It came to a shuddering stop, listing to the right, the weight of the damaged tail twisting it over.
Unaware her death-defying ride was over, Sage slumped unconscious, strapped into her seat. Wisps of smoke curled from under the panel in the cockpit.
Sage surfaced into a dark world filled with pain. She wanted to scream as she relived the attack by Marcos, being held down so she couldn’t move. As she came fully awake, she remembered she was in the plane, the restraints her seat harness. Marcos was nowhere near. Her face felt wet and she touched it with her fingers, tracing the long jagged cut Marcos had inflicted with his knife. They came away smeared with blood. Some of the stitches the surgeon had so meticulously placed were broken.
Looking around the cockpit, she realized the plane was not moving. She must have passed out before it crashed. Then she saw the darkness was due to the snow piled on the windshield and the side windows.
“I may be six feet under, but I’m not pushing up daisies—yet,” she mumbled.
“But I better get out of here before the weight of the snow pushes in the windshield.” When she tried to move, excruciating pain in her left knee stopped her cold.
She pulled up her pants leg ever so gently, each small movement causing her to clamp her jaw tight. As she revealed the knee, she could see the kneecap slanted partly to the side. She uttered a few unladylike curses. Her college soccer injury come back to haunt her at a very inconvenient time.
“Before I can fix this, I need to get into the passenger area,” she said. Talking aloud to herself helped her calm her fears and to focus. Contemplating any movement made her break out in a cold sweat. But she made herself inch sideways to the space between the seats in the cockpit. Nausea roiled up into the back of her throat as she scooted backward, lifting her leg over the console with both hands.
When she sat with her back against the passenger seat and her leg out in front of her, she knew what she had to do. No coach or team doctor this time to do it for her.
“Bite the bullet, Sage,” she ordered. “You can’t wait for a rescue team. They might not find you till spring thaw. You have to get out of here now.” Taking a deep breath, she placed both hands on her kneecap and gave a quick shove, at the same time snapping her leg out straight. The pain raced up her leg, through her body, to connect with her brain cells and she passed into unconsciousness.
She came to with a scream echoing around inside her head.