Her Christmas Refuge
Stand Alones
He offered her a safe harbor. But the storm that sent her running is closing in.
Kramer’s snow-locked farm is his fortress of solitude—until a desperate, injured woman shatters his peace. Danica arrives with terror in her eyes and a gun in her hand, pushing him away even as she begs for help. Every instinct tells Kramer to stay out of it, but one look at her and the battle is lost. He’ll be her protector, whether she wants him to be or not.
Trapped by the blizzard, Danica finds herself defenseless against Kramer’s quiet strength and the disarming warmth of his care. The cozy nights by the fire begin to melt the ice around her heart, igniting a dangerous desire. But she knows trust is a luxury she can’t afford. The secrets she’s keeping aren’t just hers—they’re deadly.
As Christmas approaches, their fragile connection becomes the only thing that feels real. But to have a future with him, she must confront her past. Will confessing the truth save them, or will it lead the danger straight to his door and destroy them both?
A dark skin woman limped toward him, gripping her side. Long, dark hair was plastered to her face, clung to her shoulders. Her short jacket did nothing to ward off the cold. Black leggings, ripped and shredded, clung to long legs.
Kramer stopped, shock rooting him to the sport.
“Please, help me,” she cried. She stumbled as the wind battered her.
Kramer rushed toward her, scanning the white-covered land, but he was too late.
Gasping, the woman lurched forward and collapsed face first into the snow.
“No!”
Kramer’s heart clenched. His vision blurred, and for a moment, the snowy lands disappeared. Dust replaced the flakes, filling his nose and his eyes. The woman’s body was replaced by another, in another place, another time. In that small village, recognized by no nation.
Bodies littered the ground, their blood flowing into the dry sand. Flames danced over the thatched roofs, driving the already blazing desert heat higher.
He was too late. He’d failed.
Maria.
Frozen wind and snowflakes blasted him in the face, pulling him from the memory. Shaking his head wildly, the vision faded, and he was once again staring at the unmoving woman. He wasn’t in combat anymore. He was home, safe.
With a dead, or dying, woman on his property.
Dread rose in him as he stopped in front of her. A dark patch was forming beneath her, staining the pristine white snow. Kramer bent over her. “Hey, can you hear me?”
As he reached a hand out, the woman suddenly sat up in the snow. Before he could react, Kramer was staring down the barrel of a Glock.
He froze, staring at the woman in disbelief.
Slim hands shook, wild eyes locking onto him. “Are you alone?”
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