Mourning the death of her husband John in which she blames
herself, Megan Snow is spending the two year anniversary of
his death at their cabin getaway in Western Maryland. With
him dying on Christmas Day, Megan cannot fathom another way
of spending that day other than alone at the place she and
John loved the most. Rallying to keep her mind off the
upcoming hour, Megan builds a snowman family and dresses the
man in John's shirt, scarf and hat but is surprised by a
blizzard. Once inside, the blowing snow creates a phenomena
with all the LED screens blinking and a high pitched
tinkling sound. Stepping outside, Megan finds a big hunched
over man with no coat or shoes and a voice from beyond
telling her to "help him". She notes her male "snow white"
has exceptionally good looks, as she brings him inside to
thaw. Caring for Owen Winters causes her distress as she
realizes she has missed the time of the anniversary of
John's death. Owen knows only that he has been sent to help
her and what her name is.
Boreas, the Supreme God of Winter, enlightens Owen, a snow
God, and informs him that he only has four days to convince
Megan to fall in love with him. The request from John is
that they help Megan to be happy again so that he can move
on. Her declaration of love can turn Owen to a mortal and
hence, he will be allowed to spend the rest of his life with
Megan. She falls subject to Owen's loving attention and soon
recognizes her hot physical reaction to him. Can Megan
place John in the past and move on emotionally with Owen or
will her insecurities keep her from declaring the truth and
cause her to loose Owen forever?
I absolute loved this tale of fantasy and love. Owen is the
man every woman dreams of. The only disappointment anyone
could have is that this story ended way, way too soon. Once
I started reading I could NOT put NORTH OF NEED down. It's
been some time that I have found a story that kept my
interest so totally consumed. Laura Kaye is a very unique
and imaginative writer with an exceptional gift for bringing
the wonderful world of fantasy to life. Since NORTH OF NEED
is the first release in the Hearts of the Anemoi series, I
will be sure to read all future creations in this new and
exciting world.
Her tears called a powerful snow god to life, but only her
love can grant the humanity he craves…
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.
Excerpt
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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