Annie Mayall was a young bride, brought to Montana in 1940 by her new husband to start their new life together...as soon as he struck it rich in the promised silver mines. Abandoned for three long desperate and lonely years, Annie was forced to survive by herself in the wilds of the mountains. Until one stormy night brought a severely wounded stranger to her tiny one-room cabin. A stranger both mystical and fascinating. A stranger who not only brought her happiness, but a kind of love she never knew existed.
A stranger who was not of this earth.
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Warning: This book contains mutilation, abandonment, total isolation, harsh and unbearable weather, blood-letting, attempted homicide, attempted angelcide, snoopy but concerned neighbors, close confinement, promises kept, and unusual uses for a feather.

REVIEW

I will never look at a thunderstorm quite the same again. Lord of Thunder isn’t just a play on words; it describes the main character of this fascinating new novel by Linda Mooney.

A story of strength, determination, and love told with characters as rich as the Montana setting. Raw, intense and satisfying, are words that both describe the story and the romance. Reading Linda’s work is an escape like no other. This is the second book I’ve enjoyed by Linda, but it won’t be the last. Reading romance, always a guilty pleasure has now become a real joy!

Reviewed by: Renee's Book Talk, Blog Talk Radio

EXCERPT

An hour passed. Then another. And another.

Rion sat up in the chair he had moved next to the bed and leaned over to check her. To make sure she still breathed. To prove to himself she was still among the living.

“Annie.”

A faint, warm puff of air moved the tiny feather he held beneath her nose. At the sight of movement, hot tears scalded his eyes, and he allowed himself to weep.

It had been years since he’d succumbed to his fears. Years since he had grieved this hard or prayed so fervently.

Now it was all he could do while he waited for that moment when Annie either remained with him, or walked over that fine threshold into death’s arms.

A fourth hour passed. With the fire almost out, he was forced to go outside to get more wood. Annie had to stay warm, and he would make sure she did.

He stared into the brightening blaze as the fresh logs caught. These past few days had been a miracle in more ways than he could count. He had survived being struck by lightning. He had survived a fall of untold feet into the middle of a forest.

Then to be found by this woman, like an angel herself, only wingless.

Rion turned around to stare at the pale figure lying so still on the blood-soaked bed.

Annie was nothing like the women on his world. She looked nothing like them, either, with her blacker than midnight hair and eyes of pure green. They reminded him of perillion, and of all the times he had picked those same flowers as a child to carry to his mother.

More than that, she was strong and self-reliant. She faced life with a zeal and determination that amazed him, and she never complained. How many women on his world could survive in a place like this?

Rion tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his chest. He felt a sudden warmth near his ribs. He had to be careful and not over-do things. Annie needed him now, and he would be of no use to her if he let himself grow weak.

He turned back to the fire, listlessly poking it with the iron.

His Annie had to live...

His Annie.

She is not your Annie, he kept telling himself. She cannot be yours.

Unconsciously, his eyes were drawn to the small chest at the foot of the bed. Another man’s clothes were in that chest, and that knowledge alone kept him from doing what his dreams allowed him. Another man lived here, and until Rion found out who that man was, he could not hold her. He could not taste her sweetness. Or even declare this strange, unbelievable feeling that filled him every day he was with her.

Did the clothes belong to a brother? Please, please do not tell me they are your husband’s, he willed silently to her. Do not tell me another man has claimed you, and I am left to grieve again for the one person who has found her way into my heart, only to break it once more.

A soft sigh alerted him. Rising, Rion went over to sit next to the bed. In the firelight he watch the play of shadows across her face, across her delicate features. Laying his palm over her cheek and ear, he could tell there was no fever. If he had been lucky enough, and quick enough, there wouldn’t be. Not with his blood in her system now. Yes, he had taken a huge risk, bleeding into her like that, but what other choice did he have? She was dying before his eyes. Her life had been fading away. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever. Even if she had a husband who might return any day now, Rion knew he couldn’t lose Annie. Not this way. Not because of some damned freakish accident.

Annie gave a little cry. Rion leaned over and pressed a kiss to her hairline. On the cool skin he wanted to keep kissing until he reached her lips. Then further down to her throat. And from there...

“Get well for me, Annie,” he murmured softly, although he knew she could not hear him, much less understand him or be able to answer. “Stay with me. Let me stay with you. When you are better, tell me about this man you already have in your life. Let me know if I have a chance to tell you how much I am beginning to love you. Annie... Annie... let me love you.”

The tears came back, rolling down his cheeks, but he ignored them. If another hour passed, and she continued to breath, then the worst would be over. After another hour she would be on the long road to recovery, and he would be here to greet her when she finally awakened.

And when she did, they would talk.

Rion took a shaky breath. Yes, they would talk. He would find out the truth about the man in her life, and if there was the slightest chance in the world for Rion to love her, he would declare himself.