Jillian Burns - Primal Calling

Max was clearly prepared to fight off whatever might have hurt her in the dark woods. Check off number two on her sexy he-man list. She quickly looked straight into his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

His face was unreadable. He had a grease smear on his left temple. But his gaze, it gave away his true feelings.

She rose up on her toes and kissed his lips.

He pulled away, his eyes flared in surprise. Then, with a hoarse groan, he swept her up into his arms again and headed double time for the shelter of the airplane. She kissed his neck, behind his ear, along his jaw and finally covered his mouth.

The ferocity of his lips as he took control of the kiss stunned her, but only for a split second. There was a frantic tangling of arms and clothes and mouths as he yanked his parka from his shoulders. She gripped the sides of his face and matched his passion with her own.

Dear Reader,

I’ve always loved to travel. My bucket list of places to see is longer than my arm, and I can’t resist watching travel shows. What a job to have—visiting gorgeous architecture and historic sites. Thus, my travel-show hostess, Serena, was born. And, though I’ve never been to Alaska, it’s definitely on my list.

Most places in Alaska are only accessible by plane. And only a few commercial airlines fly into the larger cities, so people rely on bush pilots for their travel. Guys like my handsome yet grouchy bush pilot Max.

Add a number of quirky characters, and the town of Barrow, United States’ northernmost city, 300 miles above the Arctic Circle, on the edge of the arctic sea, and I had the beginnings of Primal Calling!

I hope Serena and Max’s romance takes you away to a more primal place, like it did for me. I love to hear from readers. Please write to me and check out the details of upcoming releases at my website, www.jillianburns.com.

Jillian Burns

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Jillian Burns has always read romance, and spent her teens immersed in the worlds of Jane Eyre and Elizabeth Bennett. She lives in Texas with her husband of twenty years and their three active kids. Jillian likes to think her emotional nature—sometimes referred to as moodiness—has found the perfect outlet in writing stories filled with passion and romance. She believes romance novels have the power to change lives with their message of eternal love and hope.

There are so many people without whom this book would never have been possible. First, I wouldn’t have had a plot without my wonderful Uncle Les—pilot extraordinaire, who’s given me rides in his Cessnas throughout my life and inspired my romance with the concept of the lone bush pilot. His information about flying a prop plane in Alaska, how to make it stall, how to land on a frozen lake and all about the Anchorage airport was invaluable. Thank you also to my brother-in-law, Gary—plane mechanic extraordinaire, who late one night patiently explained all about landing-gear repair. And to Rebecca Lees and Jerry Lees (a real Alaskan bush pilot) and Jenny Bernard for their unwavering aid in answering my questions regarding all things Alaska, especially Barrow. Any mistakes are entirely my own.

As always, huge thanks to my critique partners, Pam and Linda. I don’t know how you put up with me.

And to my superlative editor Kathryn, for her encouragement and support.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

“FOR THREE WEEKS we’ve followed the intrepid mushers of the Iditarod as they raced their sled dogs over a thousand miles of the most unforgiving yet awe-inspiring terrain on earth. The same perilous journey one brave man and his dogs made to deliver medicine to the sick townspeople of Nome eighty-five years ago.”

Serena turned, following the camera’s movement to pan the landscape behind her. “Now we’ve returned once again to Anchorage, where we say goodbye to the Land of the Midnight Sun, and take with us unforgettable memories of the thrill and danger of the ‘Last Great Race on Earth,’ and of the friendly people of Alaska.

“This is Serena Sandstone, with no reservations about making reservations. Join us next week when we travel to sunny Buenos Aires. And remember, no matter where you go, you can always Travel in Style!” Serena held her TV-personality smile while the camera lens zoomed out to the spectacular view of the Chugach Mountains.

“And cut!” Roberta, her producer, yelled. “Okay, Serena, that’s a wrap.” Roberta turned and headed back into the Seaside Hotel from the outdoor pavilion. “God, I can’t wait to get back to L.A. It’s freakin’ cold here!”

Roberta had a gift for stating the obvious. It was the last week of March. It was Alaska.

“Come on, people. Let’s get this equipment loaded. I don’t want to miss the one flight out of here tonight,” Roberta called behind her.

Serena took a determined breath and then hurried to catch up to her producer while the camera and sound crew packed their equipment. “Roberta, I wanted to talk to you about that piece I gave you last month.”

“What piece?” Roberta continued her brisk pace toward the elevators. “Oh. The genocide investigation? Yeah, yeah, I sent that up to the network execs.”

A tiny jolt of excitement hit Serena’s stomach. Maybe her dream was about to come true. “And?”

Roberta barked orders to her assistant about the arrangements in South America, and then focused on Serena with an impatient sigh. “Let’s get a drink.”

Nervous, Serena followed her into the hotel bar.

They slid into a booth and Roberta ordered two glasses of Chardonnay and cleared her throat. “Serena, I’ve told you before, you’re too valuable at Travel TV. We can’t let you put yourself in a risky situation. Even if they had the budget for an investigative piece, they’d send someone else.”

“But, it was my idea. My research. When I signed on to do Travel in Style five years ago, they promised—”

“Serena, your show has the highest ratings on this cable network. Why not stick to what you do best? Let someone else get their hands dirty.”

Serena looked up as the waitress set their wine down, then back at Roberta. “But, I can do both. I can—”

“But why should you?” Roberta took a long gulp of wine and stood. “Now, I’ll be in postproduction on this show, but you’ve got a couple of weeks until we leave for Argentina. Please try to rest.”

“But—”

“The camera is never forgiving of dark circles under those gorgeous eyes of yours.” Roberta patted Serena’s shoulder and strode off.