Wildrose Landing

Never date your (sexy-as-hell) next-door neighbor. File that under great advice - not taken. Especially if he’s hot. And witty. And successful. Did I mention hot? Never mind. The point’s the same.

I moved to Wildrose Landing because my life was a structure-fire burning down around me. They say a phoenix rises from the ashes, new. I crossed my fingers and took a leap of faith, hoping that proved true. After a certain ex, who shall not be named, did something so...unspeakable, the absolute last thing I was looking for was love. I didn’t have the energy for complications. I needed time to heal. To rebuild.

Alexander Prescott came stumbling into my life and didn’t care about any of that. He offered me a dream job without so much as asking for my resume. Which I took without thinking. (Hey, a girl’s gotta eat.) Besides, saying yes to new experiences is the kind of thing you do when you’re rising from the ashes and redefining yourself as fearless.

And Alexander Prescott is the walking definition of new experience. From his dark curls and whiskey eyes to the spark of chemistry that I constantly fight like hell to ignore. He’s a best-selling author. An icon in his own time. But he says he’s in over his head and swears I’m the only one who can help.

I know there’s something he isn’t telling me, but that’s okay, there’s something I’m not telling him.