Wounded at the Lake by Mitzi Pool Bridges

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  • Ex-Navy SEALs Cooper and Dirk Browning’s PI firm has been hired to find out who kidnapped their teammate’s ten-year-old daughter, Christie. They are stretched thin investigating two frustrating cases, in addition to handling their flourishing military canine-training enterprise.

    Coop and his star dog-in-training find a mysterious woman with a head wound.  Her memory is gone. Between trying to find a clue to Christie’s kidnapper, and his efforts to find the real identity of the woman he names Lori, Coop falls in love.

    So does Lori. But how realistic is that? She doesn't know who she is, and Coop can't envision a life with a woman he knows nothing about.  When the truth comes out will their love survive?


    The house was so still his thoughts screamed in his head. Lori. How would he handle his life if he couldn’t see her every day?

    He pounded the pillow and turned over just as his door opened.

    His body grew quiet, his heartbeat slowed. Thor would warn them if an intruder was in the house, so it wasn’t a stranger. Still, every nerve tensed. He was SEAL-ready.


    Lori’s soft voice made his heart beat a tattoo in his chest. He turned over to see her outline from the moonlight filtering in from his window. “What is it, Lori? Can’t you sleep?”

    She shut the door and came closer. Coop found it hard to breathe. The sweet smell of soap and strawberries hit him as she inched closer. He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

    “I wanted to talk to you.”

    “Talk?” Really? They could have talked earlier. Why now?

    “Yes.” She was beside the bed now. He could reach out and pull her to him. Didn’t. Talk about tense. His body was one long stretched-out nerve. Didn’t she know what she did to him? Didn’t she know he wanted her? No matter how much she trusted him, right now she wasn’t safe.

    “May I sit down?”

    No. “I think you should go to your room. We can talk tomorrow.”

    “Please. Just for a minute.”

    How could he resist the sweet yearning in her voice? Or was he misinterpreting? “Can’t it wait?”


    He inched over. “Then sit and tell me what’s troubling you.” He had to force the words past his throat when she sat down. The feel of her hip against his, even in those ridiculous too-short sweats, made him so hard he couldn’t think straight.

    “What did you want to tell me?” It better be short and sweet or he was going to grab her and make mad, passionate love.


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Wounded at the Lake

Wounded at the Lake

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