“Debra “”DJ”” Erfert, a winner of a 2017 Kindle Scout campaign, has authored five published novels, three novellas, and one Kindle World’s novella, and several short stories. She writes what her alter-ego dictates. Maybe it’s her super-ego. In her Window of Time series, Lucy is fearless and strong and has a secret power—all qualities Debra envies. In real life, spiders terrify her, which is why they appear on a regular basis in her books. “Confront your fears, and have your characters squish them!” 


Debra uses the pen name DJ Erfert for her paranormal suspense/thriller books, and Debra Erfert for her romantic suspense/mystery books. She is an award-winning fine artist who lives in a southwest desert city in Arizona with her husband, Mike, a retired police lieutenant, where the average summer temperatures are well above 100 degrees—truly hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. After raising two Eagle Scouts, she now spends her time writing and shooing her polydactyl cats away from her keyboard.”

Connect with the Author here: 
Blog ~ Website ~ Amazon ~

Artist Abigail Carson crashes off the deserted
highway during a Wyoming blizzard while driving to reach her dying mother.
Carbon County Sheriff Jackson Reynolds rescues her, leaving her Jeep in the
snowdrift as the storm becomes a whiteout. They’re trapped at his ranch for the
week leading up to Christmas, along with his two young daughters, a protective
mother-in-law, and a bitter memory of his dead wife. 

Tensions rise as Abby’s attraction grows for the tough
sheriff. She must crack through his emotional wall before the storm breaks or
lose her only chance for real love. But if the storm doesn’t stop soon enough,
Abby may lose her opportunity to ask her mother’s forgiveness for running away
almost ten years before.



Snowdrift is a story about love, faith, and
forgiveness.”

 

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Snippet: 
“Daddy, Daddy,” Beth cried happily as she bounced on his stomach,
“come downstairs and see what Mama did.”
 
Jack caught his daughter before she could jump on anything vital,
and sat up in bed. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand he saw it wasn’t six
in the morning yet and it was still dark outside. “What are you talking about,
Beth?”
 
Kathy crawled up next to her sister. “Daddy, come look! Santa
brought our presents from Jesus!” She pulled his arm, grunting softly.
 
“And Mama came with him. Come look!” Beth said as she wrapped her
hands around his arm beside her little sister’s and tugged. “Daddy!”
 
“Okay, all right.” Jack pushed back his covers. His slippers were
by his bed, and as he shoved his feet into them he thought of the time when
he’d seen Abby wearing them. She’d been wearing his bathrobe, too. She’d
returned them both to his room before going outside with him. The bedclothes
he’d seen Abby wearing last night were beautiful and definitely fit her better
than his clothes did, but he almost wished she still wanted to keep his. She
had her own boots now, and her own coat that fit, and even her own gloves. In a
way, Jack felt like she didn’t need him any longer.
 
Out in the hallway he met up with Grace and Harry leaving their
room. They were pulling on their robes as his girls ran by them. Stickers loped
down the stairs after them. Jack smiled. “I guess it’s Christmas morning.”
 
“Merry Christmas,” Grace said as she tied her bathrobe. “I know
one of his elves was busy very late last night.”
 
Jack held up two fingers and nodded.
 
Harry said quietly, “Four hours of sleep isn’t that bad.”
Grinning, he added, “I’ve had less some Christmas Eves.”
 
“Huh,” Jack said. “A father’s rite of passage.” He slapped his
father-in-law’s shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Harry,” he said before following
his little girls down the stairs.
 
The girls must have turned on all the lights in the family room
when they first explored their booty. The hallway glowed from the stairs, only
the color was strange. There were subtle hues of red and green mixed with the
yellow-whites reflecting on the walls. When Jack stepped off the bottom step,
he quickly discovered the reason for all the odd illumination.
 
“Oh, my goodness,” Grace cried softly, with her hand over her
heart. “How?” She dropped her voice low and asked, “Jack, is this what you were
doing last night?”
 
Jack walked out into the middle of the room and looked around at
all of the decorations that hadn’t been there when he went to bed at two a.m.
“It wasn’t me.”
 
The few ornaments he’d hung on the tree had been squeezed out by
additional strands of multi-colored twinkling lights, glass angels,
papier-mâché Santa Clauses of various shapes and sizes, green, red, gold, and
silver bulbs. Small acrylic snowmen blended in between winding red ribbon,
flowing tinsel, and crowned with an antique star glowing majestically on top.
Every picture frame on every wall had green garlands with miniature bulbs
hanging from them. Jack slowly realized that he recognized everything. He just
hadn’t seen the decorations for two years.
 
“Jack!”
 
He swung around to find Grace with her hands on her throat while
looking over their dining table at the end of the living room. He rushed over
to find her staring at a table full of pastel paintings. There were eight
drawings, and in the middle of the table stood a request from Abby. It simply
stated: Merry Christmas, please handle
with care.
 
“What are you looking at, Gram?” Beth asked as she leaned up on
the table.
Grace picked her up.
 
Jack swooped Kathy up before she could touch anything, and held
her in his arms.
 
“Look, Daddy! Mama is an angel.”
 
The largest of the colorful drawings was of Grace staring out the
kitchen window, with Beth and Kathy next to her, but instead of just their own
reflections greeting them in return, Abby had painted Katie’s portrait gazing
in at her mother and two little daughters. The adoring smile on her face was
exactly what Jack remembered when his wife would gaze lovingly at their babies.
Kathy was correct. Her mother was an angel.
 
“That’s you, Daddy, and your horse!” Beth reached for a painting,
but Grace caught her arm before she could touch the surface.
 
“Brander,” Jack said quietly. Smiling, he remembered Abby staring
at him while he worked in the barn. Now he understood why she’d studied him so
hard: to draw him. The portrait next to it was the one he caught her doing when
he’d taken a nap with his girls. He’d opened his eyes just in time to see her
closing her drawing pad. She must have stayed the whole time while they slept.
 
“Where’s Abby?” Beth asked.
 
“Probably still sleeping,” Grace said.
 
“And she’s missing everything,” Jack said. Passing Kathy to her
grandfather, he marched down the back hallway, past the kitchen entryway and
opened Abby’s bedroom door—without knocking. He hit the light switch and then
stopped before going inside the messy room. He needed to step carefully around
the bags on the floor to get to the side of the bed where the lump under the
cover lay.
 
“Abigail.” Jack squatted next to her, quietly calling her name.
“Abigail, wake up.” He grasped the edge of the blanket over her head and pulled
it down, exposing her pajama covered shoulders and back. Her brown hair spilled
over her face, obscuring her eyes. “Abby, you’re missing Christmas.”
 
Groaning, Abby turned her head and faced away from him.
 
With his lips next to her cheek, Jack said, “Abigail Carson, you
need to wake up and watch the girls open presents.”
 
Mumbling, she said, “No . . .  family only.”
 
“Come on, Abby.”
 
“Too tired.”
 
He pushed aside enough of her messy hair to find some skin, and
kissed her cheek several times before foraging down to her neck. “You leave me
no choice, baby.” Jack un-tucked the blanket from the bottom of the bed, pushed
the blankets underneath Abby’s body, and then lifted her off the bed.
 
“No, don’t,” she moaned.
 
“Too late, I’m already doing it.” Jack lifted her higher in his
arms, trailing blankets as he walked. “You worked too hard to miss out on this
morning.”
 
“Jack, no!” Abby said, pulling the quilt up over her head.
 
He stopped before leaving the room, and with his face next to the
blanket where he figured her ear might be, he asked with a soft voice, “Don’t
you want to be with us? Be with me?”
 
Lowering the blanket, she gazed at his scruffy face and bed-messy
hair, then into his soft green eyes before sliding her arms around his neck.
With her lips touching his ear, she whispered, “Yes, I want to be with you.”
 
Jack held her tighter. His ability to move out of her room was
preempted by a sudden surge of emotion. He let her legs slip out of his grip.
He had better use of his arm—he wrapped it around her back.
 
“We better go,” Abby said, “or you’ll miss your daughters opening
their presents, and I don’t want to be responsible for that.” Grinning, she
added, “And I have another gift for you.”
 
With his face in her hair, he said, “I’ve seen them. They’re
beyond beautiful, Abby. I don’t know how to thank you.”
 
Leaning back, Abby squinted. “I don’t think we’re talking about
the same thing.”
 
“We saw your paintings on the dining table.”
 
“Oh—” Abby smoothed her hand along his fuzzy jaw. “I wasn’t
talking about those, but I’m very glad you like them.”
 
Leaning down closer to her lips, he said, “I . . .  love them,” then he kissed her.
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