Tail Slide: Otter Chaos, #1

By P.D. Singer

Fresh powder snow and running water in the Colorado backcountry call Lon like the moon calls the wolves. Belly-sliding to a good time on the weekends makes up for a workweek at a desk, and meeting Corey adds a whole new level of fun to snowboarding.

It's easy to slip away for time alone in the woods without raising suspicion, but how's Lon to entertain himself when bad snow and a worse spill force them off the mountain too early?

Never give an otter a box of Cheerios.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rocky Ridge Books
• Release date: Jun 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781498905657

P.D. Singer

P.D. Singer lives in Colorado with her slightly bemused husband, one proto-adult, and thirteen pounds of cats. She’s a big believer in research, first-hand if possible, so the reader can be quite certain P.D. has skied down a mountain face-first, been stepped on by rodeo horses, acquired a potato burn or two, and will never, ever, write a novel that includes sky-diving.When not writing, playing her fiddle, or skiing, she can be found with a book in hand.

Book preview

Tail Slide

Tail Slide

P.D. Singer

Rocky Ridge Books

Warning: this book contains adult language and themes, including graphic descriptions of sexual acts that some may find offensive.It is intended for mature readers only, of legal age to possess such material in their area.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, events, and locations are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and publisher.

Tail Slide © P.D. Singer 2015

Cover art by Jared Rackler

All rights reserved.

Published by:

Rocky Ridge Books

PO Box 6922

Broomfield, CO 80021

http://RockyRidgeBooks.com

Tail Slide

otter tracks

Pulling the car into the wide spot beside the narrow highway, Brian said, Sure you aren’t coming up to Eldora? They have lifts.... He trailed off suggestively.

There’s two feet of fresh snow out here in the backcountry, Lon told him, even if the country wasn’t very ‘back’ when it butted up to a road. Access to the newly-fallen, unmarked powder didn’t have to cost an arm and a leg and come with crowds. You have fun cruising the groomers with the rest of the two-plankers. He swung out of the little Dodge and popped his board out of the roof rack. Pick me up about five o’clock, okay? Five was about half an hour from true dark, and they’d both get plenty of runs in, but Lon was sure he’d have the better time.

See you later! Brian waited just long enough for Lon to click the rack shut before he rattled off toward the small ski area west of Boulder.

Five or six cars might line up along this section of road, though none parked there now. That might change later, but at the moment Lon had a really decent snowboarding hill to himself. He stepped over the guardrail, into his bindings, and aimed down the untracked, unpacked snow. Who wanted to pay for groomed snow with all this champagne powder to schriff on for free?

Curving ever so gently, Lon bombed through the fresh powder. The chilly wind kissed his nose with the scents of pine, spruce, and with every curve, less highway and more deer. Trees loomed before him on more level ground—he threaded a path between them and ran out of steepness before he ran out of momentum. He sailed far into the stand of trees, close enough to hear but not see the stream that ran toward Boulder Creek. Stroking the green needles of a ponderosa pine, he considered trudging to the stream or heading back uphill.

Uphill won. He cut east toward the highway, and when he reached pavement, he stuck his thumb out. Some friendly driver, like this guy in the pickup truck, would give him a lift to the top. Lon threw his board in the back of the truck and climbed in after it. Just to the parking area! he told the driver, who grinned and said, I know.

Bet he played ski lift all the time. Lon hopped out with thanks, feeling his beard crackle in the cold with the movement of his grin. Wind was changing, too. He ran a hand across his face, smoothing the crisp brown hairs that framed his mouth but didn’t cover his cheeks.