After the sudden death of her husband, Ellen McKenna is doing everything she can to keep her Texas farm afloat. She and her family hope to expand their operation, but times are tough and making ends meet is more expensive than she imagined, much less trying to grow. Many of their neighbors in Cooke County have thrown in the towel and agreed to sell their farms to a local businessman, but despite similar pressure, Ellen refuses to let her dreams die.On top of the usual hardships, a series of recent storms has left the region partly flooded, and as the heavy rain begins again one morning, all the members of the McKenna family jump into action to protect their land and animals. Ellen’s oldest son discovers an injured dog—and the dog leads him to a man barely clinging to life, the apparent victim of a brutal home invasion. Then, Ellen’s younger kids go to check on a nearby neighbor and walk into a threat none of them saw coming.Before anyone can figure out what’s really going on in their idyllic rural valley, the storm picks up again in intensity, and the McKenna kids find themselves in over their heads with no way to call for help. To protect her farm--and her family—Ellen must face down all the forces trying to tear them apart.Allison Brennan's talent for twisty, tense pacing combines with a deeply drawn family drama and the unforgiving power of nature in this compelling standalone thriller.
This is definitely heart-pounding and that sort of storm thriller that I enjoy. While it was very rural and had some old fashioned characters and plot points, it worked for this book. I didn't know how it would end, and it was a great ending. Give this a try!
Rena Jones sat in the backseat of the King Cab pickup as the rain poured down like the sky had cracked open, pelting the top of the cab with a violent staccato beat. Her brother lay slumped beside her, his shirt soaked with blood and rain, his breaths coming in short gasps.
She pressed her trembling hands to the bleeding wound on his side.
Her fingers were warm and sticky with it, and no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn't seem to stop it.
"Brock," she choked, glancing at her husband who was driving, his hands tight on the wheel as he navigated through unpaved backroads.
Every bump and hole in the road had the truck bouncing and Sam grunting in pain. "We have to get Sam to a hospital."
"No," Sam ground out, his voice barely a whisper. His face was pale, jaw clenched, eyes pained. He was shaking, whether from shock or cold, she couldn't tell.
The windshield wipers were going full force, slapping rhythmically against the glass, but the rain was winning. Water sheeted over the truck like they were underwater.
Tears stung her eyes, hot against the cold. "But-"
"He's right," Brock snapped from the front seat, turning halfway toward her. His face was hard, but his eyes showed his deep fear.
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