Sharon Sala - Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name

RIDER ON FIRE

Like a bat out of hell, undercover DEA agent Sonora Jordan jumps on her motorcycle and takes off to parts unknown, escaping the deadly drug dealers who had put a price on her head. All the while, she is haunted by dreams of a man whose place in her life she is yet to discover.

When she literally comes face-to-face with the man of her dreams, it’s as if time stands still. Her long-dormant heart is finally awakened. But will she ever be truly free from the dangerous life she left behind?

WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

She gave him the most precious gift of all—the gift of life. But something more than a blood transfusion links Wyatt Hatfield to the stranger who saved him. Something that allows her to call out to him for help in the middle of the night—without ever speaking a word.

Now it’s his turn to give. For the connection that links Wyatt to Glory Dixon is the only hope he has of saving her from danger….

“Veteran romance writer Sala lives up to her reputation with this well-crafted thriller.”

—Publishers Weekly on Remember Me

“Chilling and relentless…”

—RT Book Reviews on The Chosen

“Wear a corset because your sides will hurt from laughing! This is Sharon Sala at top form. You’re going to love this touching and memorable book.”

—New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber on Whippoorwill

“[A] rare ability to bring powerful and emotionally wrenching stories to life.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Perfect entertainment for those looking for a suspense novel with emotional intensity.”

—Publishers Weekly on Out of the Dark

“…knows just how to steep the fires of romance to the gratification of her readers.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Sharon Sala masterfully manages to get deeply into her characters.”

—RT Book Reviews

THE CHOSEN

MISSING

WHIPPOORWILL

CAPSIZED

DARK WATER

OUT OF THE DARK

SNOWFALL

BUTTERFLY

REMEMBER ME

REUNION

SWEET BABY

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Rider on Fire Rider on Fire

Dedication The Oklahoma Outlaws, my state chapter of Romance Writers of America, has less than forty members, and a half dozen of those are breast cancer survivors. Devastating illnesses are never fair. They didn’t get to pick and choose the trials and tribulations that came with living their lives, but by golly those girls know how to live it regardless. Because I am so proud to be an Outlaw, and because I love and admire those women so much for showing us what’s really important in life, I would like to dedicate this book to them. Ladies, this is my “pink ribbon” for all of you. To Peggy King, Jo Smith, Willie Ferguson, Julia Mozingo, Chris Rimmer and Donnell Epperson, and to all the women everywhere, including my editor, Leslie Wainger, who have been forged in the fire of cancer and lived to be inspirations for us all— PINK FOREVER!!!

Chapter 1

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

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

When you Call My Name

Dedication

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

Chapter 15

Epilogue

The Oklahoma Outlaws, my state chapter of Romance Writers of America, has less than forty members, and a half dozen of those are breast cancer survivors. Devastating illnesses are never fair. They didn’t get to pick and choose the trials and tribulations that came with living their lives, but by golly those girls know how to live it regardless.

Because I am so proud to be an Outlaw, and because I love and admire those women so much for showing us what’s really important in life, I would like to dedicate this book to them.

Ladies, this is my “pink ribbon” for all of you.

To Peggy King, Jo Smith, Willie Ferguson, Julia Mozingo, Chris Rimmer and Donnell Epperson, and to all the women everywhere, including my editor, Leslie Wainger, who have been forged in the fire of cancer and lived to be inspirations for us all—

PINK FOREVER!!!

The small squirrel was just ready to scold—its little mouth partially opened as it clutched the acorn close to its chest. In the right light, one could almost believe the tail had just twitched.

Franklin Blue Cat called it The Sassy One. It was one of his latest carvings and in three months would be featured, along with thirty other pieces of his work, in a prestigious art gallery in Santa Fe. He hoped he lived long enough to see it.

Franklin often thought how strange the turns his life had taken. Had anyone told him that one day he would become known the world over for his simple carvings, he would have called them crazy. He would also have called them crazy for telling him that, at the age of sixty, he would be alone and dying of cancer. He’d always imagined himself going into old age surrounded by children and grandchildren with a loving wife at his side.

He set aside the squirrel. As he did, the pain he’d been living with for some months took a sharp upward spike, making Franklin reel where he stood. He waited until the worst of it passed, then stumbled to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed.

He considered giving Adam Two Eagles a call. Adam’s father had been the clan healer. Everyone had assumed that Adam would follow in his father’s footsteps. Only, Adam had rebelled. Instead, he had taken the white man’s way and left the Kiamichi Mountains to go to college, graduated from Oklahoma State University with an MBA, and from there gone straight into the army to eventually become one of their elite—an army ranger.

Then, during the ensuing years, something had happened to Adam that caused him to quit the military, and brought him home. He’d come back to eastern Oklahoma, to his Kiowa roots, and stepped into his father’s footsteps as if he’d never been away.

Adam never talked about what had changed him, but Franklin knew it had been bad. He saw the shadows in Adam’s eyes when he thought no one was looking. However, Franklin knew something that Adam did not. Franklin knew it would pass. He’d lived long enough to know life was in a constant state of flux.

As Franklin drifted to sleep, he dreamed, all the way back to his younger days and the woman who’d stolen his heart.

Leila of the laughing eyes and long dark hair. He couldn’t remember when he hadn’t loved her. They’d made love every chance they could get—with passion, but without caution.