Blurb: In the wilds of Alaska, Assistant District Attorney Shyla Pierce is supposed to be dead, killed in the pursuit of justice. But in fact she is very much alive, quietly in hiding and slowly recovering from her near-fatal injuries.

Meanwhile, deep in mourning for Shyla, Alaska State Trooper Judd Iverson tries and fails to move on. He’s forced to take a leave of absence. But when he arrives at his secluded fishing cabin, he’s shocked when Shyla opens the door. With a killer still on the loose and their passion unextinguished, they must relearn to trust each other and figure out how to catch the man who meant to kill Shyla the first time around.

 Excerpt:

Someone had been making themselves at home.

He climbed the four steps to the porch, adjusting his hold on the rifle. Must have been some hunters or fishermen in the area using the place. They’d probably chopped him some wood as payment, which was the neighborly thing to do. He just hoped that had been the case rather than vandals or teenagers out on the river looking for a place to get high and have sex.

He unlocked and opened the door. The barrel of a shotgun greeted him.

“Don’t move,” a voice from the grave threatened.

“Shyla?” He froze. How far off the bend had he traveled? She was dead. His heart thumped in his chest as though hit with an electrical current after being stagnant for so long. This woman couldn’t be Shyla Pierce, but she sure looked a lot like her, smelled like her too. He hadn’t started drinking, yet, though he’d planned on getting shit-faced drunk soon. “What? How? You’re dead,” he blurted out.

“Drop your weapon,” she said in a serious tone.

“You sure as shit sound alive.” He lowered his fishing pole first, leaning it against the wall. He shrugged the bear gun’s strap off his shoulder and let the weapon slide to the hardwood floors. Floors this woman had helped him sand and refinish. Questions swarmed in his head. Demands had his muscles jerking with the need to touch her.

“Now shut the door.” She motioned with the gun, staying far enough away from him that he couldn’t make a move on her without getting a chest full of buckshot for his effort.

He slammed the door shut. “You’d better start explaining fast, Shy.” His tone reflected the anger surging to the surface. He embraced the rage in an attempt to drown the hurt he couldn’t bury.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Well, you’re supposed to be dead. Fucking explain that!” He’d carried her ashes in an urn and had planned on spreading them over the outlying forest around the cabin. Finally letting her go. It had been Skip’s idea. To lay the past to rest. 

“I’m not dead.”

“And obviously I’m not supposed to know that.” And that burned. But nothing like the heartache of believing she’d died. “What the hell, Shy?”

“Sit.” She motioned to a log chair next to the table. Both items he’d built with his bare hands with her helping him, handing him tools, rubbing his stiff muscles, loving him into the early mornings. They’d built this place together. He’d wanted to build a life together…before hers was taken.

“I’m not going to sit. Where have you been? How long have you been here?” He slowly glanced around. There was no dust. A book lay open on the night table next to the bed they’d spent countless hours in. A few apples sat in a bowl on the counter. She’d been here long enough to make the place homey.

“Drop your gear and take off your jacket.”

“Seriously?” He met her eyes. Eyes the color of moss and framed by dark, thin arching brows. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but didn’t seem to be as thick as it used to be. The normal rich mahogany color seemed muted. She’d lost weight too. Her jeans bagged, the belt cinched at the waist making the fabric bunch more than it should. “What the hell is going on? What happened to you, and why the fuck did you let me think you were dead?” His voice broke.

“Shut up,”she gritted out, as though emotion got the best of her. The gun lowered as though the weight was too much for her to bear. “I said, drop your gear and take off the jacket.”

His backpack thudded to the floor where he stood. He jerked his jacket off and threw it toward her. “Want me to strip down to my underwear too?”

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Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Tiffinie Helmer is always up for a gripping adventure. Raised in Alaska, she was dragged ‘Outside’ by her husband, but escapes the lower forty-eight to spend her summers commercial fishing on the Bering Sea.

A mother of four, Tiffinie divides her time between enjoying her family, throwing her acclaimed pottery, and writing of flawed characters in unique and severe situations.

Tiffinie loves to hear from readers. To contact her or learn more about her books, please visit her website at www.TiffinieHelmer.com or like her facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/tiffiniehelmerauthor. You can also follow her on Twitter, https://twitter.com/TiffinieHelmer.

Tiffinie is giving away and e-copy of Bait to one lucky commenter! Tell us how you would keep warn on a cold Alaska night!