Powell Sanctuary

A dog named Slipper almost ruined my life. The uncatchable stray snuck on the patio where I was waitressing and knocked me straight into Lee Powell's lap. My fist slammed into his junk. Then I accidentally flipped his breakfast platter onto his pants. I thought it couldn't get any worse, but when I bring my brother to baseball practice, I discover his new coach is none other than Lee, owner and founder of Powell Dog Sanctuary, and he's not happy to see me.

Ten years ago I left my marriage and the love of my life. On paper my husband checked the boxes. 1. Devastatingly handsome. 2. Wild and carefree. 3. And a skilled lover . . . if you know what I mean. But Corjan Powell was a bad husband. We were too young to be saddled with a lifetime of resentment and regret. After a year of confrontations and no change, I didn't even give him the chance to refuse divorce papers. One disastrous fight too far, I wrote him a note and I left. "But Bree, what happened over those ten years?" you ask. Resentment. And regrets. 

Whitney thought she was safe from her toxic marriage the day her husband died . . . From the moment I return to my hometown for a fresh start, my plans begin to crumble. The rental house that looked perfect is actually a health hazard. My new job postpones my start date. And a historic blizzard is about to dump three feet of snow across the state, making doing just about anything impossible. When my infant son screams down the motel into the early morning hours and causes the other guests to complain, I'm mortified and ready to brave the impending blizzard to find someplace else.

The memory of why I jumped out of my ex-fiancé's car in a wedding dress is a bit hazy. Or maybe I was pushed. Disoriented, I stumble through the trees until exhaustion forces me to rest. Time passes in a feverish blur, but eventually, I'm discovered by a friendly dog and her unfriendly owner, Jude Powell. The gorgeous grump isn't too pleased with my disheveled appearance. That doesn't stop him from ripping my ruined dress to create a makeshift sling for my arm and taking me to the emergency room. 

After three years of dancing at the best club in Minneapolis, I'm forced to return to my hometown. Pregnant. Single. And my only skill is twirling around a pole. I return to my old job, dancing with one goal. To save enough money to provide for my child. But night after night, he becomes...