Mr. Red Riding Hoode

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To Mom, who developed knee problems and keeps stealing Dad’s mobility scooter (or so he says). I have an idea on how to fix that…

To Dad, who needs to check out that mobility scooter that looks like a motorcycle. Hell, I need to check that out. It looks badass. Can you see me at a romance convention, revving my engine? Heh.

And to Dusty, who still can’t believe he married into this crazy family. Be afraid. Our children carry their genes.

Steve stumbled through the doors of the Red Wolf Ski Lodge and Resort. He damn near whimpered in relief as the heat from the huge fireplace seeped through his red parka.

His balls were going to freeze off.

A ski resort in December? “What the hell was I thinking?”

He fought the urge to cup himself and rub the warmth back in. Shit. Little Steve might never come out to play again.

Still, if he had to come to the mountains in the winter, he couldn’t have picked a better place. It was beautiful. A huge wood and stone building, the Red Wolf Lodge was built like a mountain cabin on steroids. It was long and three stories high, with a vaulted roof you could barely see under the snow and a huge deck that ran all around the second story. And thanks to the changes Rick Lowell had instituted, it now boasted a full gym, a day spa, babysitting services, and even a small golf course. All of it sat on about three thousand acres, a third of which remained forested.

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