Her self esteem all but destroyed by a womanizing ex-husband who left her for a younger woman, facing the dating scene at her age was not an option Kayla Reed would even consider. She’d been married for over twenty years to the only man she’d ever kissed, much less anything else. Envisioning spending the rest of her life alone, and facing the prospect of spending her first Thanksgiving alone, in front of the television with a frozen turkey dinner, Kayla reluctantly accepts an invitation from a friend to spend an old fashioned Thanksgiving in the mountains.
But fate has other plans.
Forced to take a detour by a rockslide, Kayla finds herself lost in the mountains, in the midst of a freak snow storm. Driving conditions becoming so hazardous she can’t risk driving any further, she has no option but to take refuge in the only shelter available.
By a bizarre set of circumstances, fate had stepped in and dropped her into one of her fantasy scenarios. She was snowbound in a luxurious mountain cabin with an incredibly handsome stranger. Did she have the courage to experience the fantasy fate had seen fit to offer?
****
“Detour was so intense of a love story that this reviewer was unable to put it down. You will be held spellbound by the plot and the hero is to die for. This reviewer gives this book a Five Flames for a love story that is a classic in itself.” 5 Flames - Sizzling Romances
“Kay Wilde has created a beautiful love short story that is very sensual. DETOUR is the kind of story that gives hope to those of us that are mature and not as firm as we would like to be. It is a story of taking a chance; to grab at opportunities as they arise and finding love and romance when you least expect.” Romance Junkies Blue Ribbon Rating: 4
“DETOUR is a wonderful short story in the Tempting Fate: Holiday Fantasies series. Kay Wilde introduces us to an older heroine who does not view herself as perfect, especially after having a daughter and the stretch marks to prove it, and to a hero who sees past her imperfections to the amazing woman she is. This is a sensual romance, with believable characters, and a cozy love story all wrapped up in one. For a quick romantic read, pick up DETOUR. You will not be disappointed.” Romance Reviews Today
“After reading this charming story I was blown away with Ms. Wilde’s take on this short Thanksgiving tale. The hero and heroine are well written and their needs are defined throughout the book. The reader will appreciate the couple’s good-humor, sexual attraction, and their warm and cozy time in an enchanting cabin. Morgan and Kayla’s love scenes are seductive, intimate and passionate. All in all I recommend that everyone go out and treat yourself to this sweet story." Just Erotic Romance Reviews - Four Stars!
"Four Hearts! The passion between Morgan and Kayla is evident from the moment the meet, erupting over them both during their forced seclusion. The intensity of their affair is hot enough to melt even the mountain snow surrounding the cabin. If a reader is looking for a quick, extra-satisfying short read, this tale will certainly heat one up. Just be sure to have some way of cooling off after reading this sexy story." Love Romances
Excerpt
“This is not good,” Kayla Reed muttered aloud as she switched the windshield wipers from low to medium.
She had originally turned down her friend Paula’s invitation to spend an old fashioned Thanksgiving with a group of friends in the mountains near Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Until then, Kayla hadn’t realized how upset her daughter, Kellie, had been by the prospect of spending Thanksgiving with her father and leaving her mother to spend the holiday alone. Unwilling to put a damper on the holiday for her daughter, Kayla buckled under Kellie’s less than subtle steamroller tactics and had called Paula back and accepted the invitation. In doing so, Kayla was surprised to discover she was actually looking forward to the trip. She was aware that since her divorce she had gone into emotional hibernation, devoting herself totally to her work and to her daughter. A daughter who would be leaving home next fall to attend an out of state university.
Making this trip had seemed like a positive decision on her part, the first step toward the life she needed to get. She’d driven three hours without mishap, until she came up on a rockslide, which had closed the highway and forced her to take a detour. She was now somewhere in the Smokey Mountains; exactly where, she didn’t have a clue. On her right was a wall of jagged granite or limestone, or what ever the hell it was made of. On her left was a flimsy guardrail, which served as the only barrier between her vehicle and a steep, deep ravine. Up ahead and behind through the rear view mirror all she could see were mountains.
Now she had the snow to contend with. A snow predicted by the weather man before she left home to amount to nothing more that light flurries which were not expected to reach this area until sometime late tomorrow, Thanksgiving Day. The engine of her compact car began to groan in protest as it began to climb another steep rise, forcing Kayla to shift into second gear.
All of a sudden spending Thanksgiving alone with a good book and a turkey TV dinner didn’t sound so bad.
As she crested the rise, she was greeted by a yellow, diamond shaped sign warning of a steep drop then a series of hair-pin curves. “Oh shit,” Kayla gasped as the bottom dropped from her stomach and she began the inevitable roller coaster descent. It took all of her questionable skill and concentration to successfully navigate her way down the treacherous terrain, which was rapidly becoming ice covered and even more hazardous.
At last reaching a relatively flat stretch of road, she applied her brakes and came to a stop. Probably not the smartest move, but considering that she hadn’t seen another vehicle in over half an hour it was a risk she was willing to take. She literally had to pry her hands from the white knuckled grip they had on the steering wheel. Her hand trembled as she reached for the knobs of her radio. Again her efforts were rewarded by the same static she had encountered when it first started to snow and she attempted to get a weather report. In her opinion, radio reception in the mountains was, at best, lousy. She reached into the side pocket of her purse for her cell phone, and quickly discovered there was no signal. “It figures,” she said with a groan of frustration. She snapped it closed and tossed it onto the seat beside her.
“Calm down and think,” she told herself. It didn’t take a genius to know she had to get off the road and soon. The windshield wipers were no longer doing the job on medium, forcing her to switch them to high. Under normal circumstances she would just keep driving, knowing she would eventually reach some form of civilization -- a spot on a map from which to get her bearings. These were not normal circumstances.
To make a bad situation even worse, her car was starting to sound strange. Taking a deep calming breath, she then exhaled slowly. “Just get me somewhere safe and we can both rest for a while,” Kayla said as she reached over to pat the dashboard, as if her words of encouragement could coax the necessary mileage from the vehicle.
One more steep climb, one more hair raising descent, and fifteen minutes later driving at a snail’s pace on the slick road, Kayla was nearly at the end of her rope. And then she saw it. A lane curved up the side of the mountain. Unless she was hallucinating, there was a light about halfway up.
The flurries predicted by the weatherman had escalated into a full-blown whiteout. Just her luck. In this area they were thrilled to get even a light snow for Christmas. She gets brave enough to break out of her comfort zone, in November, and ends up in a freak blizzard.
Seeing no other option Kayla turned off the road and began to drive slowly, once again, up the side of a mountain.
The theme song from the movie Deliverance popped into her mind. “The way my luck is going, I’ll waltz into a shack occupied by a gang of banjo playing moonshiners,” she muttered. Kayla had learned some time ago that one of the side effects of divorce and spending so much time alone was talking to herself. It was a side effect which hadn’t concerned her unduly ... until she started losing arguments.
* * * *
“You sound frustrated and cranky.”
“Your mastery in the art of understatement never ceases to amaze me, Frank,” Morgan Warner muttered into his cell phone. His retort was rewarded by a chuckle from his agent on the other end of the line.
“Let me guess. You’re hung up on the sex scene?”
“They’re not my strong suit,” Morgan admitted as he raked his fingers through his hair. Again his response elicited a chuckle from the other end.
“Not on paper maybe,” Frank agreed. “Must be some form of karmic justice for all the broken hearts you’ve left in your wake.”
Morgan chose not to dignify Frank’s comment with some lame excuse for his chosen lifestyle. At this point in his career, his writing was the only demanding mistress he could afford. He’d learned that lesson the hard way, during his marriage to a high maintenance female who liked spending the money his books brought in but not the time he spent writing them. Sheila could not comprehend that the words didn’t just magically appear on the page all by themselves. In truth, after the fact, Morgan admitted he’d been more committed to his career than he was to his wife. Now, he deliberately confined his sexual activities to brief encounters with women who knew the score up front -- to sexually uninhibited women who were satisfied with hot, passionate sex with no demands or commitments expected from either side.
“You still there?” Frank’s disembodied voice sounding in his ear interrupted his thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Morgan replied.
“Take a break, Morgan. Relax and enjoy the holiday,” his agent encouraged. “You’ve been hitting it hard for months. The first six chapters are great and the new book is ahead of schedule. Are your brother and his family still flying in for Thanksgiving?”
“We’ve been hit by a freak snowstorm. I phoned him just before you called and told him not to risk it,” Morgan answered. “They’re staying in Boston and going to Kathy’s parents instead.”
“Take a break anyway,” Frank suggested. “Go into town. Find some woman and get laid. It’s probably what you need to take the edge off. Some hands-on research, so to speak.”
Morgan was in the glass-enclosed porch, the only spot in the cabin where he could get reception on his cell phone. Beyond the three walls of glass, all he could see was a blanket of white. Instead of letting up, the snowstorm appeared to be reaching blizzard proportions.
“Yeah, right. Considering the weather, getting into town isn’t an option,” Morgan informed his agent. “The closest I’m likely to get to relief tonight is the hot tub and my own right hand.”
Frank’s outburst of laughter forced Morgan to pull the phone away from his ear. “Then I suggest you utilize that fertile imagination of yours and fantasize big time.”
“Gee thanks,” Morgan snapped.
“Seriously, Morgan, give your self a break. The scene you’re struggling with will come together. It always does.”
“You make it sound so easy. You should try it.”
“No thanks, pal. That’s why I’m the agent and you’re the writer who makes the big bucks. I...”
Sudden static drowned out the rest of Frank’s words and then the line went dead. Weather conditions being as they were, Morgan was surprised the connection lasted as long as it had. He pressed the end button, put the cell phone on the end table beside the natural wicker sofa and turned back to the bank of windows to stare out at the falling, blowing snow.
Frank, who was usually right on target with his advice, couldn’t have been more off the mark with this one. Relieving his sexual tension in the bed of a warm, willing, experienced female wouldn’t give Morgan what he needed this time.
This book was different. The connection between his hero and the heroine went deeper than it had in the other books in his Blind Justice series. This heroine was different. She was Morgan’s fantasy woman: a beautiful, intelligent, mature woman who had never experienced true passion with a man. He often fantasized about what he would do with and to such a woman as he helped her discover the uninhibited, sensual side of her nature.
“Damn,” Morgan hissed through clenched teeth. He raked his fingers through his hair with one hand while the other hand readjusted the uncomfortable tightness at the front of his jeans.
It was so vivid in his mind. Why was he finding it so difficult to put the words on paper? Because in his other books the prerequisite sex scenes were brief, lukewarm romps with no genuine connection between the characters involved, that’s why. Because as a writer if he was going to be true to the story he’d created, to the characters, and to the readers, this could be no quick case of wham, bam, thank you ma’am. He’d be exposing his own fantasy to the eyes of others in explicit, drawn out detail.
