First! It's PRE-ORDER TIME! (Cue the happy dance.)

The curvy little historian seated next to me on the plane looks like she's never been out of the city. With her tight little skirt and high heels, she's about as out of place in Slow River's ranch lands as it gets-- and she's exactly what I need.

As I step on the plane that'll take me back to the life I walked away from over a decade ago, I know I'm heading back for good whether I'm ready or not. That means making things right with my brothers and stepping up to run the family's cattle ranch alongside 'em like our father expected me to. It also means breaking my mama's heart when I have to explain that her match-making isn't much appreciated.

What I need is a good, old-fashioned, pretend girlfriend. A woman who'll charm my family while hanging off my arm looking at me like I hung the stars just for her. Someone who'll fool Mom into thinking I'm ready to settle down so she'll stop hassling me till I can get settled in.

Too bad Serenity only agrees to the ruse to get first-hand access to the local history that will help her score a job promotion back in the city, because when I say she's what I need, it turns out, I mean forever.

Pre-Order Now

AMAZON UK

AMAZON CA

AMAZON AU

But I don't get to happy dance for long because the itty, bitty, teeny, weeny problem with this pre-order is that the book is not...quite...done...yet. Some nonsense about a "satisfying" conclusion and an epilogue.

Seriously-- who makes these rules and why do I have to play by them?

So I need to get back to work. I just reeeaallly wanted to get the preorder link out to you in this email!

While you wait for Ranger and Serenity's story to go live next week, here's a fun little promo I'm in to keep you busy with some FREE, short instalove stories:

Looking for one of my long-winded stories from my personal life?

Sorry. It's been a pretty boring week.

Although, I did continue on from my blissfully offline campsite down the California coastline and have enjoyed looking at the ocean for the first time in two years.

I grew up in inland California-- all purple mountains' majesty above thy fruited plains-style. (which is to say, in the agricultural heartland of the San Joaquin valley, with a view of the high Sierra peaks in the background--) the ocean was a solid three-hour drive from where I lived. Still, a three-hour drive is a day trip. Especially for a teenager with her own car and what her mother deemed "her father's itchy feet" in the days when a tank of gas could still be had for around ten bucks.

I'll be heading back to the desert landscapes of northern Nevada as soon as I've had my fill of clam chowder. (New England, the white stuff with all the heavy cream your arteries can handle.) Even though the BFF keeps telling me that they're about to rip out the shower for the bathroom remodel. (If this email service let me use emojis, this is where you'd see the little woman doing the facepalm.)

Yay. Can't wait.

Be prepared to hear that I've stopped to camp in a dry lake bed somewhere next week: If I'm not going to shower for a week, there'd better be a good excuse for it.

~Rocklyn