“Debra “”DJ”” Erfert, a winner of a 2017 Kindle Scout campaign, has authored five published novels, three novellas, and one Kindle Worldâ€™s novella, and several short stories. She writes what her alter-ego dictates. Maybe itâ€™s her super-ego. In her Window of Time series, Lucy is fearless and strong and has a secret powerâ€”all qualities Debra envies. In real life, spiders terrify her, which is why they appear on a regular basis in her books. â€œConfront your fears, and have your characters squish them!â€Â
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 degreesâ€”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.”
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Artist Abigail Carson crashes off the desertedÂ highway during a Wyoming blizzard while driving to reach her dying mother.Â Carbon County Sheriff Jackson Reynolds rescues her, leaving her Jeep in the
snowdrift as the storm becomes a whiteout. Theyâ€™re trapped at his ranch for theÂ week leading up to Christmas, along with his two young daughters, a protective
mother-in-law, and a bitter memory of his dead wife.Â
Tensions rise as Abbyâ€™s attraction grows for the toughÂ sheriff. She must crack through his emotional wall before the storm breaks orÂ lose her only chance for real love. But if the storm doesn’t stop soon enough,Â Abby may lose her opportunity to ask her mother’s forgiveness for running awayÂ almost ten years before.
Snowdrift is a story about love, faith, and
IfÂ serendipity played a hand in Abbyâ€™s journey, she couldnâ€™t see it through theÂ blowing snow. With her sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over her hands forÂ warmth, she squinted past the fast-paced windshield wipers into the WyomingÂ blizzard. Even with the Jeepâ€™s heater on high, the icy wind blew in through theÂ gaps of the soft-top fast enough it threatened to plunge Abbyâ€™s body intoÂ hypothermia. Common sense had told her to stop at the last town, but her heart
whispered to take the chance and keep going. A hundred more miles on the narrowÂ two-lane highway and she could see her mother before she died.
Twenty-seven-year-oldÂ Abby rubbed her sleeve under her nose and sniffed back another volley of tears.
â€œHold on, Mom .Â .Â . Iâ€™m almost there.â€
ItÂ had been close to ten years since Abby had even talked with her. Truthfully,Â deciding whether or not to come had been made at the last minute. Sheâ€™d changedÂ her mind twice since climbing into her Jeep and driving away from her home inÂ the low desert of Arizona. Abby lifted her phone from the passenger seat. Maybe
she could redial the man who had called claiming to be her momâ€™s husband andÂ tell him how close she was. At least then her sick mother would know she stillÂ cared.
AÂ sick, gliding sensation drew her attention back out the windshield. SheÂ couldnâ€™t see the road. Abbyâ€™s heart flipped when she realized the Jeep wasÂ skidding, turning out of control in the whiteness.
WhenÂ the Wrangler jerked to a sudden stop, Abby hit her forehead on the steeringÂ wheel. She waited with her pulse pounding in her neck. Would the Jeep slideÂ down some obscured cliff? Seconds dragged into minutes. Abby let loose of theÂ steering wheel and touched her head. She couldnâ€™t feel anything. Her fingertips
were too cold.
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