Christmas Countdown Blitz: Day 5, SNOWDRIFT, A Romance Novel By DEBRA ERFERT!

 

“Debra “”DJ”” Erfert, a winner of a 2017 Kindle Scout campaign, has authored five published novels, three novellas, and one Kindle World’s novella, and several short stories. She writes what her alter-ego dictates. Maybe it’s her super-ego. In her Window of Time series, Lucy is fearless and strong and has a secret power—all qualities Debra envies. In real life, spiders terrify her, which is why they appear on a regular basis in her books. “Confront your fears, and have your characters squish them!” 



Debra uses the pen name DJ Erfert for her paranormal suspense/thriller books, and Debra Erfert for her romantic suspense/mystery books. She is an award-winning fine artist who lives in a southwest desert city in Arizona with her husband, Mike, a retired police lieutenant, where the average summer temperatures are well above 100 degrees—truly hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. After raising two Eagle Scouts, she now spends her time writing and shooing her polydactyl cats away from her keyboard.”

 
Connect with the Author here: 
Blog ~ Website ~ Amazon ~


 
 
 

Artist Abigail Carson crashes off the deserted
highway during a Wyoming blizzard while driving to reach her dying mother.
Carbon County Sheriff Jackson Reynolds rescues her, leaving her Jeep in the
snowdrift as the storm becomes a whiteout. They’re trapped at his ranch for the
week leading up to Christmas, along with his two young daughters, a protective
mother-in-law, and a bitter memory of his dead wife. 

 
Tensions rise as Abby’s attraction grows for the tough
sheriff. She must crack through his emotional wall before the storm breaks or
lose her only chance for real love. But if the storm doesn’t stop soon enough,
Abby may lose her opportunity to ask her mother’s forgiveness for running away
almost ten years before.



Snowdrift is a story about love, faith, and
forgiveness.”

 

~ Amazon ~ iTunesKobo ~ B&N ~


Snippet: 
“Where
is the road, Daddy?”


Abby
pulled the blanket up higher around Kathy’s shoulders. She had her sitting on
her lap and they sat next to Jack in the front seat of the sleigh.


“I
watch for landmarks, sweetheart.” Jack pointed with his left hand, still with
the reins intertwined in his fingers. “See those trees lined up in a row?”


“Uh-huh.”
Kathy nodded her knit cap-covered head.


“Do
you remember those are apple trees and they grow just off the side of the
road?”


“Yes,”
Beth said from the seat behind them. “I remember, Daddy! We stop there, and you
pick apples without Mrs. Nesbit knowing about it.”


Abby
grinned over at Jack and waited for him to deny his thievery

.

“Mrs.
Albenia Nesbit will be eighty-five-years old this coming New Year’s Day.” Jack
glanced at Abby. “Beanie’s been widowed for six years now. For the first two of
those years she let her apples rot in the orchard.”


“But
why?” Abby quickly asked.


Jack
continued. “I found out later, when I did a welfare check on her, that she
didn’t have the money to hire any hands to pick her fruit, and she wasn’t
physically able to do any of the picking herself.”


“Why
didn’t she ask her neighbors for help?” Grace asked.


“Good
question,” Abby said, holding Kathy closer.


“I
asked her that, since I was her closest neighbor. I watched her face blossom
pink, but she said that she couldn’t ask. She didn’t think she deserved any
help, since she never helped anyone else.”


“Oh,”
Abby said softly. “And this justifies you stealing her apples?”


Jack
grinned. “Let me finish, please.” He snapped the reins once. “Get up there!” He
captured Abby’s glare. “Southern Wyoming isn’t conducive to growing apples in
the first place, but her orchard took hold and she gets a fairly good yield. To
this day, Beanie doesn’t know who harvests her small orchard every year,
leaving over a hundred bushels of the most beautiful apples in her front yard,
and also for the tax deduction she gets for the additional hundred bushels she
donates to the Rawlins homeless mission.”


Abby
couldn’t keep the tears from blurring her vision. Listening to Jack’s story was
more romantic than watching a chick-flick. “You?”


“Not
just me, but three other ranchers in the area meet together for a week while
our wives keep her busy and away from her windows.” Jack laughed. “She still
has no idea who her fairy god-harvesters are.”


“You’re
a good man, Jack Reynolds,” Abby said quietly.


“And
probably quite selfish.”


“Huh?”


“Beanie
had all those apples at once, so she began to cook. If you’ve notice in our
pantry, we have shelves of home canned apple butter.”


“Yes.”


“Beanie
supplies the whole area with her homemade apple butter, but she also makes the
most delicious pies, which she calls upon me to help her deliver to her
neighbors.” Jack nodded. “In these past four years she’s done more community
service than in all the years before her husband passed away, including getting
involved with the mission serving dinners at holidays.”


Abby
breathed heavily, watching her breath escape in a burst of mist from between
her lips. Laying her cheek gently against Kathy’s head, she gazed at the
landscape passing by, thinking about the love it took to do secret good works
for a neighbor without expecting anything in return. The canned apple butter
was incidental. Abby had a feeling he’d do it without the promise of anything
in return. After all that was how it had started.

 

 
 
 
To view our blog schedule and follow along with this tour visit our Official Event page 
 

 

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