Excerpt from the bestselling, lighthearted romance Late to the Wedding

Rain drops speckled the car’s dusty hood, a blip of lightening flashing in the distance. “How do you moderate this thing?” Evelyn asked, studying the faded labels for the temperature selections. “Is there a secret code, a special rotation, like a safe?”

The only answer was the wind whistling loudly against the windows, which seemed helpless to block any kind of noise from the outside. She glanced over to find her driver seemingly oblivious, eyes narrowed at the dark scenery ahead. “How do you work the air?” she repeated, this time at a volume he couldn’t possibly miss.

“Not by screaming in my ear, when I can already hear every word you say. Including the one’s you murmured in your sleep this afternoon. His name’s Jared, right?”

She gasped, losing her grip on the map laying across her knees. “That–that’s eavesdropping! And everyone knows dreams don’t mean anything, anyway.” Her face was flaming as she turned back to the dashboard. “Are you going to help me with the air, or should I roll the window down?”

“Stop fiddling with it,” he said, batting her fingers away from the knobs. “You’ll make it worse. I know all the car’s quirks, and you’re only confusing its system by changing the settings every two seconds.”

“But it’s freezing in here.” She inched the switch towards the heating side, a worn red stripe giving a clue to its purpose. “I keep expecting to see my breath.”

“Quit exaggerating.” A blast of wind jerked the car to the side, edging it over the center of the road. “Besides,” he added, “I’ve got a jacket in the trunk if you’re really that cold. The next time we stop I’ll get it out.”

Lightening crackled, the old Sedan struggling to regain its correct lane. “C’mon,” Brian muttered, spinning the wheel around. His foot tapping against the brake as a sizable tree branch blew across the road a few yards ahead.

Evelyn waved her hands in front of the vent system. “I think it’s working. Or maybe it’s just getting weaker.”

“Turn it off, alright? You’re gonna burn us up putting on the heater and I don’t–”

Whump!

The sound of a dead chicken hitting the windshield.

Their screams were simultaneous, with Evelyn digging her fingernails into his arm, as the car swerved towards the ditch. It skidded back onto the road seconds later in a wild U-turn motion, Brian whipping the steering wheel hard against the force of the ever-increasing wind. The motor picked up speed in time for a sudden downpour of hail, which dinged against the metal vehicle like a torrent of ping pong balls.

For the next few minutes, they tore along the dirt road at sixty miles per hour, the car’s rickety frame bouncing off gravel and groups of rocks. “Maybe you should try aiming for the potholes instead,” Evelyn yelled above the roar of hail and thunder, clinging for dear life to the door handle.

“Hang on!” he called. “We’ve got to outrun this storm. I think it must have rotation or something.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, mouthing a prayer. Her deep breathing exercises from yoga sessions forgotten, as a tight feeling gripped her chest, her heart pounding out of control. She couldn’t die like this–trapped in a car with a guy she barely knew, stranded on a stretch of forgotten roadway. All while the love of her life prepared to say ‘til death’ with someone else.

Something seized hold of the Sedan, spinning it in swift jerks like a giant child's hand operating a top. With a scream, Evelyn seized the door's arm rest and held onto it tightly; beside her, Brian gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, face set with grim determination. She was aware that he was no longer controlling the car, but that another force was–the same force that tossed a tree trunk across the road, dissolved the barn in the field ahead like a cloud of debris swept away.

The car spun towards the ditch, Evelyn's eyes closing as protection against dizziness. She felt the thud of impact as the tires struck dirt, jerking her body forward in her seat.

A hand touched her arm. “It’s okay,” Brian’s voice was muffled, the words barely audible above the roar of the wind. It died to a gentle murmur after a moment, along with the roar and crackle of the storm. Brian's free hand rested upon the steering wheel.

"What was that?" Her voice was weak. It was a long moment before Brian spoke again, his face noticeably pale.

"I think that was a tornado," he answered.