Levi I’ve faced down worse things than a dinner in town. At least that’s what I tell myself. Storms. Broken horses. Men twice my size who thought they knew better. None of that prepared me for Dakota Sage standing in my doorway, smiling like this is the easiest thing in the world. “You ready?” she asks. I look at her. Then at myself. Clean shirt. Boots without dust. Even shaved. Feels like I’m heading into something I don’t have the right training for. “Define ready,” I say. She laughs softly and steps closer, reaching up to smooth a hand over my collar like it matters. It shouldn’t. But damn, does…

Ash The mountain hums low tonight. Not the sharp pulse that once rattled the bones beneath my skin. Not the wild surge that nearly tore us apart. Just a quiet rhythm now—deep and steady, like the earth breathing beneath the ranch. Josephine leans against the barn railing beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. Lantern light spills warm gold across the yard. The cattle settle in the pasture, and somewhere beyond the hills a coyote calls. For the first time since everything happened… the world feels still. “Do you feel it?” she asks softly. I glance down at her. “The hum?” She nods. “Yeah,” I say. “But it’s different now.” It…

Reed After the Concert The concerto is over, the applause has faded, and the mountain is finally quiet again. Reclaiming the stage should have been the hardest part. It wasn’t. Because now the cabin is warm, the snow falls softly outside, and Ivy Callahan—the woman who rewrote my unfinished music—is standing at the piano with a smile that promises trouble. “I thought you were tired,” I say from the doorway. She glances over her shoulder, curls loose from the braid she wore for the performance. The lamplight catches the gold in her hair, turning it into something like sunlight trapped indoors. “I am,” she says. Her fingers drift across the…

Sigourney “What is this place?” I ask, breathless, tilting my head back between stories of broken ruin. Wind whistles through shattered windows and groans against concrete silos layered in graffiti. Every surface tells a story no one bothered to erase. “Old cyanide mill,” Gideon says. “Party spot. Used to come up here as a teen.” Spray paint bleeds over everything, crude tags over intricate murals. In the center, a slab of concrete rises like an altar with the words “urban myths” scrawled across it. Gravel crunches beneath my boots, echoing hollow in the vast chamber. Dust floats through slivers of sunlight cutting the fractured ceiling. The air feels abandoned. Preserved.…

Leonora Six Months Later The barn smells different now. Fresh pine. Clean hay. Warm animals. Not smoke. I run my palm over one of the new beams, fingers tracing smooth wood where blackened ruin once lived. The old stone foundation still stands—thick, stubborn, laid by my great-grandfather’s hands—but everything above it has been rebuilt. Stronger. Arlo insisted on that word. Stronger. Crickets hum outside. Cattle settle in the north pasture, low and content. Lantern light sways gently from a hook near the loft, casting long shadows up into the rafters. “You still do that,” Arlo says quietly behind me. I don’t turn. “Do what?” “Touch the walls like you’re making…

Austin The red light clicks off. The silence afterward is heavier than the sound ever was. Allie doesn’t speak right away. She just stands there, eyes dark, breath shallow like she’s deciding whether to cross a line she already knows she wants. That’s when the mic becomes irrelevant. Allie shifts closer, and the room changes temperature—like everything tightens around us. Her fingers curl in my hair. Claiming. Her other hand presses flat to my chest, right over my heart, like she’s feeling how fast it’s going. “Say it again,” she whispers. My throat tightens. “Which part?” She smiles against my mouth. Slow. Knowing. “The line where you slow down.” I…

Maverick Four Months Later Light threads gold through the curtains, spilling across the white duvet. I move silently, holding my breath, aware of every shift of muscle and bone. Mia sleeps beside me, hair a chestnut mess—her natural color now that her celebrity days are done. Her cheeks are warm and pink with sleep, lips curved in that way that tells me she’s dreaming about me. I shift. The bed creaks. An arm slips around my waist, pulling me back into tangled sheets and blankets. “No,” she says, grumpy—her morning routine. “What, Princess?” I chuckle. She rasps, “Do you always”—yawn—“have to get up at the crack of dawn?” “Have to.…

Rough & Ready Country Small-town cowboys. Second chances. Love that’s earned—and fought for. Welcome to Rough & Ready Country, a connected small-town romance series where rugged men with complicated pasts fall hard for the women who challenge them to heal, stay, and build something lasting. Set in a tight-knit rural community, these stories deliver emotional depth, protective heroes, curvy heroines, and hard-won happily-ever-afters—no cliffhangers, no cheating, and no games with readers’ hearts. Rough & Ready Firefighters They fight fires. They ride hard. And when it comes to love, these cowboy firefighters play for keeps. In the small town of Rough & Ready, sparks fly when rugged heroes collide with curvy…

KYLIE ONE YEAR AND ONE CHRISTMAS LATER Snow hushes the whole mountain, falling in soft spirals outside the bedroom window. But inside the cabin, everything burns warm and golden—woodfire glow, quiet breath, Camden’s big body crowding mine like he can’t bear a single inch of distance. He closes the door behind us with that careful precision he has in everything—not timid, just deliberate. Like he’s measuring the world twice before touching it. Like he’s measuring me. His hands—those wide, callused, impossibly gentle hands—slide to my hips. “You sure,” he murmurs, voice thick enough to melt snow off the roof. “Couldn’t be more sure,” I whisper. The heat in his eyes…

Winter The first thing I feel is warmth. Not the crackling fire. Not the plush blankets. But the heavy, possessive weight of Weston Hale, wrapped around me like a man guarding his favorite secret. Sunrise spills faint gold across my bedroom walls, soft and quiet after the blizzard’s rage. The storm has passed. The world is still. But West? West is wide awake. I know because his arm tightens around my waist the moment I shift, pulling me back into the solid heat of his chest, like he’s afraid I might slip through his fingers while he’s sleeping. “Don’t,” he murmurs, voice gravel scraped over velvet. “Not going anywhere yet,…