I’m excited to be spending today at the blog home of Delilah Devlin, talking about my new release, TENDER MISDEMEANORS.
The book is set in northwestern Montana, in the Kalispell area. For anyone who hasn’t traveled there, you have missed some beautiful vistas: the Bitterroot Mountains, Flathead Lake, and of course, just north of Whitefish, Glacier National Park. The area is full of beautiful forests, and this is what brings our hero and heroine together.
Caryn Orlane is an enforcement officer with the federal Bureau of Land Management. This agency may sound familiar, because the BLM has had several well-publicized skirmishes with citizens, like the Nevada standoff with the Bundy family in 2014 and another in Oregon in 2016. Politics has more and more become part of the cases the BLM must handle.
Levi Bradshaw is an environmental impact consultant who grew up in the Bitterroot and is fiercely protective of the old forests, leading a monkey-wrenching group that breaks the law to discourage loggers from pillaging the forests.
Throw in a trouble-making pagan group, the Earthenkrafters, the Native American Kootenai protecting tribal sacred places, and white supremacists and other hate groups like the Pioneer Little Europe cults, and you can see why Caryn has her hands full, even before she meets Levi.
So, in a story torn from modern headlines, when these two people meet at gunpoint, it becomes clear their love story will be one full of controversy and danger. I hope you enjoy it.
Levi Bradshaw also believes in protecting the forests but has a very different MO. He’s the leader of a group of eco-warriors, determined to save the trees of the Bitterroot by legal—and illegal—means.
When they meet in the woods at gunpoint, their encounter ignites a spark of interest, despite operating on opposite sides of the law. When their worlds turn on them, they only grow closer. If they don’t work together, can either survive?
Excerpt from Tender Misdemeanors
A dog barked, and she froze. She spotted the animal across the clearing, at least three feet tall, short russet hair with a brown nose and amber eyes. It appeared to be mostly muscle, except for the whorled ridge of hair along its midback. No question the dog had seen her as well. Still barking, it bolted toward her at an alarming rate of speed.
Instinct drove her into retreat; she wouldn’t shoot the dog unless she had to. Quick flashes of the scene as she ran showed the men snatching their equipment, scattering into the woods.
Damn, damn, damn!
Watching over her shoulder, she missed a thick fallen log in her path and tripped over it, falling hard on the ground, her breath snatched away for a few moments. The impact knocked the gun from her hand, and she struggled to retrieve it as the dog came crashing through the brush. It landed squarely on her, still barking, its nails driving into her back, its hot breath in her ear. She expected to feel the sharp bite of teeth at any moment. Desperate, her fingers quested forward for the gun.
A shrill whistle sounded off to her right. “Rosie, what have you got there?”
The dog bounded off her. Caryn lurched for the gun, then shoved herself up into a seated position, holding her weapon in both hands. The person who had spoken appeared in her sights. Aware of the panting animal not three feet away, she couldn’t spare a look, her attention focused on the man.
Nearly six feet tall (or was it just her perspective from the ground?), he stared down at her, seemingly in shock. Thick dark hair lay tousled across his brow, as though he’d just removed one of those ski masks. He wore a simple red plaid flannel shirt and denim jeans, with heavy nut-colored work boots. His build was athletic, and she guessed there was plenty of muscle under the fabric of his shirt and his padded black ski vest. He could have been a model in one of those outdoorsy catalogs, a perfect example of a rugged, handsome western mountain man.
At first, his warm brown eyes captured her interest. But second, his quick movement brought a handgun of his own from behind him, perhaps tucked into his belt, and he pointed it directly at her.
About the Author
Alana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, she loves her time in the smoky Blue Ridge mountains. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, two crotchety old cats, and five kittens of various ages.
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1