Amazon
Sharon's Books
Category:
Romance
ISBN-10: 1502820730
Type: Fiction
ISBN-13: 9781502820730
Price: $4.95 (eBook)
First female police officer in the little town of Stony Creek, Montana.
Deputy Sawyer Mackenzie is tired of big city crime. After the recent murder of a colleague, she browses the Internet and discovers and opening for a position in Stony Creek Montana. Desperate to leave Florida, she applies and...sight unseen...she's hired.
Adjusting to small town life has it's challenges for a city girl, especially a female officer.
Her first case involves a verbal combat with Retired USMA Gunnery Sergeant, Jethro Byrd, who clearly doubts her abilities when she's called to investigate vandalism on his ranch.
Although Jethro becomes her biggest adversary, Sawyer feels an unexpected attraction to him.
Did Sawyer make a mistake moving to Stony Creek? Will she find acceptance in the small town and live up the expectations of her male counterparts, or will they thwart her every attempt to fit in? Will she find love or heartbreak?
Excerpt
SAWYER MACKENZIE LEANED FORWARD and reached for the barf bag nestled among the Skyline Shopping Mall and Welcome Aboard magazines. One more downdraft, and I’m gonna’ lose it, she thought, grabbing the bag and placing it in front of her mouth.
White-knuckled, she clung to the armrest as the plane bucked and bounced through the turbulence, making its way through the mountain gaps down into Bozeman, Montana. Several of the passengers shouted “whoa” as the prop flight hit the downdrafts.
Taking a quick glance out the tiny window, Sawyer saw white, puffy clouds and occasional peaks of massive rock formations below her. She had a sinking feeling that at any minute the plane would scrape the tip of one of the mountains sending them hurtling into the ground at breakneck speed.
The thought flooded her with sheer terror. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead and nose, and her bowels shuddered. Silently she prayed. Please God, do not let me mess my pants! Get this plane on the ground, and let me out of here.
IT HAD BEEN A long day, especially for someone petrified of flying. She’d left her apartment in Florida at 6 a.m. and boarded her flight at Orlando International Airport at eight. The hour and a half trip to Atlanta had been uneventful, so her frayed nerves had begun to calm by the time they landed.
They arrived at terminal A and her connecting flight departed from terminal D. Hurrying through the Jetway, she shifted her backpack and sprinted through the airport, stopping for a moment to suck in a deep breath of air.
Reaching her destination, she flopped down on an empty chair and looked around for her gate number. Panic struck her. Where’s the gate? She glanced at her boarding pass. It’s says right here, Terminal D, Gate 11. There is no Gate 11!
She spied the only person in the terminal who might be able to help her. Sawyer rushed over to a young woman dressed in a blue Delta uniform. “Could you please tell me where Gate 11 is?”
The woman pointed to the left. “This is Gate 15, and 11 is four gates down that way.”
“Thanks.” Hurriedly approaching her gate, she heard a voice announcing that Flight 1127 was about to board.
SAWYER HEARD A WHINE and then a loud thud. What in hell was that? She gripped the armrest tighter with one hand, the other hand holding the bag over her mouth. I am never flying again. Never, never, never! I’ll drive to the ends of the earth first.
“It’s okay, dear. The noise you heard was the landing gear engaging,” her elderly female seatmate told her. She patted Sawyer’s hand. “We’re almost there. In just a couple of minutes we’ll be on the ground.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, she thought.
“Welcome to beautiful Bozeman,” announced the captain over the loudspeaker. “The sun is shining with temperatures in the high 50s. It’s a great day for fishing, hiking, or spending time with loved ones. Thank you for flying Delta Airlines. We love to fly and it shows. Enjoy your stay and we hope to see you again.”
It’ll be a cold day, Sawyer told herself. I’ll hitchhike first.
The plane set down with a subtle bump and rolled down the runway until it came to a stop. The pilot turned the plane and taxied to the terminal.
“Please keep your seat belts fastened and stay seated until the plane comes to a complete stop,” the flight attendant instructed.
Sawyer was one of the last people to get off the plane. She walked down the steps to the baggage area where she was supposed to meet Sheriff George Logan from Stony Creek. Looking around she spotted him, dressed in his uniform, holding a large sign that read, Sawyer Mackenzie. Welcome to Montana.
She smiled and walked over to him. “Hello there.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m so glad to finally be here. It was a long flight.”
George Logan frowned, clearly puzzled why this pretty, young woman wanted to shake his hand, telling him she was glad to be here. He glanced around, certain she had mistaken him for someone else. However, he couldn’t help himself as he gave her the once-over. He was, after all, only fifty-four years old and he wasn’t dead yet. She was about five-five, not an ounce of fat on her, had sparkling blue eyes, red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her tiny nose. Oh yeah, and that slow, sexy smile of hers made him feel like a teenager all over again.
Clearing his thoughts, George said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, were you speaking to me?”
“Are you Sheriff Logan?”
“I am.”
“Well, hello again, I’m Sawyer Mackenzie from Florida. I’m pleased to meet you.”
George was glad he didn’t blurt out what he was thinking. “But you’re a GIRL! How the hell did I miss that when I hired this new deputy sight unseen?”
One of his deputies had resigned and he needed a replacement right away. The sheriff did something he had never done before. He had placed an ad on the internet hoping for a quick response. Deputy Sawyer Mackenzie from Florida answered, had good credentials, and from the name, George assumed he was hiring a male. He sure got that one wrong. Now what was he going to do?
In the few minutes it took George to respond, he hoped his expression and tone didn’t convey what he was thinking. Why did parents use boy names for their baby girls and why did women have to work in jobs that used to be traditionally male? In today’s climate of women’s equality, he knew better than to utter his chauvinistic attitude.
After getting over the shock of Sawyer Mackenzie being a female, George shook the woman’s extended hand. Trying to cover up his surprise, he said, “Of course you’re Sawyer Mackenzie. Pleased to meet you, too. Welcome to Montana.”
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