by Karina Halle
“I’m going to make a toast,” my grandfather says, easing himself up on his feet and holding out his wine glass, a knife poised to ring against it.
We all raise our glasses. Riley’s free hand goes under the table and squeezes my knee. I love how she does this when we’re out and about together. It’s her way of telling me she’s here and she’s mine. Because she is. I hope she’ll be mine forever.
“Here’s to the hot shots,” Grandpa says, looking at Fox. He looks to Shane and Rachel. “Here’s to the bride and groom to be.” He looks to Vernalee and my father. “Here’s to those finding love at any age.” Then he looks at me and Riley. “And here’s to these lovebirds, these heartbreakers, North Ridge’s finest, and only, search and rescue team. If you’re ever lost, may you be found by them.”
“Here here,” we all say together, only raising our glasses because it’s a large table.
But then someone goes that extra mile. Let’s call her Riley. And she decides to stand up and reach across the table to clink her glass with grandpa. Which means now all of us have to do the same or we’ll look like a family of chumps.
With a collective groan, the Nelson family gets up and follows her lead, everyone stretching long across the table to reach each other.
The sound of glass against glass chimes through the air.
So does laughter.
So does love.
* * *
THE END
THANK YOU FOR READING!
PREORDER HOT SHOT NOW, the next book in the North Ridge series at all retailers.
If you want more of Maverick and Riley and catch up with their HEA, make sure to preorder Hot Shot, coming January 2nd (date subject to change).
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Acknowledgments
I have to admit, sometimes I don’t put acknowledgements in my book. Usually because I’m on such a tight deadline that by the time I type the end, I can’t physically type another word. Or it’s because I’ve written so many books that it begins to feel redundant, thanking the same people over and over again and saying the same old stuff.
But you know what? People deserve to be thanked and all books deserve a little wrap-up at the end. And I’m writing this half-way through the book. Hey, it’s nice to have a little break.
Maverick was an interesting book for me. I’d come up with the concept over a year ago and always planned for Maverick to be the first book in the North Ridge series. But things happened beyond my control and I decided to put Wild Card up first.
Wild Card was a hard book for me. It really was. Overly emotional stories and I just aren’t working this year (hello 2017!) and I really wanted to do Shane and Rachel’s story justice. I wanted to make it feel real, I wanted to have a level of respect for that couple and all that they had gone through. I ended up rewriting Wild Card three times, which rarely happens with me. THANKFULLY, when I say rewrite, I mean I just rewrote the plot. That’s another plus for those like me who outline their novels, I only had to rejiggle the outline and not the actual book!
But while Wild Card and conjuring up all that angst and emotion was a challenge for me as a writer, Maverick was the opposite. Some books come easy, some books come hard (ha!), and Maverick was easy as pie from the start. Light and fluffy and sexy—it’s a trifecta I’m really feeling at the moment.
Maverick, as some of you may know, was actually pushed back twice. Sorry about that. But it had nothing to do with what I was actually writing, more to do with poor planning on my behalf. I was traveling—either road-tripping down the West Coast in my egg (trailer) or traipsing through southern France and then Seattle—for most of the book. Sometimes I can travel and write with no problem (see The Play and the fact that I wrote half that monster in a van in New Zealand). Sometimes I just want to focus on my life, on the traveling, on my husband, on my friends, and not in the make-believe world of the book. It just depends.
And then the world started to go to shit (I’m hoping you’re not reading this from a bunker), and that threw a wrench into my plans too. So with Maverick it was, the World 1, Karina 0.
But hey. Everything happens for a reason. I’ve had a year to think about this book, I’d been dwelling on it and plotting it for months, so by the time I got back home and life stabilized itself for a bit, I was ready. I was more than ready.
I won’t tell you how fast I was able to write Maverick because I think that takes away some of the magic, but it was the fastest I’ve ever written a book. And there wasn’t a moment that I was like, “Oh shit, is this even humanly possible? How can I write so much in such a short amount of time?” I didn’t even think that. I just knew I would get it done. I just had this peace that told me I was going to be fine. I would do it and there was no use worrying about it. I have to tell you, that confidence doesn’t happen with every book. But it happened with this one.
Of course, actually getting words down quickly doesn’t mean much if the book is complete shit. And while I might be halfway down right now, I can tell you, this book isn’t shit. I mean, you may think so and that’s cool, but me? I LOVE IT. I love writing Maverick and Riley. They have chemistry in spades and I just want to hang out with them, look at them. Especially when I see my muses Chris Pine/Evans (with beard!) as Mav and Ireland Basinger Baldwin as Riley. Who doesn’t love to picture hot people fucking? Just me?
Anyway, this book came easily to me and even caught me by surprise. I’ve never really written a gorgeous, sex-positive, straight-forward, man-hungry heroine like Riley before (maybe Kayla in The Play) and I had a lot of fun watching Mav trying to hold himself back from her. I have to admit, when your characters feel real, their actions will surprise you and I had no idea that Mav wouldn’t give into her right away (talk about blue balls) but I’m glad he held off. It made their coupling that much more special.
So that’s the story about Maverick. I had a great time writing it and I hope it provided a good, fun and sexy escape for you. And hey, that cabin scene was totally worth it, right?
Now time for the thanking. This time I have a huge list of people. How fun!
Okay, so I was in France for most of this book, so I have to thank all the authors and pals who were there. Some of you, like Melanie Harlow or Jay Crownover and Ali Hymer, were great at letting me shoot the shit about the book (mainly, do I push back the release again?!), others just influenced me by just being there and being awesome. Like KA Tucker & Anna Todd (and her bear). Colleen Hoover, Brittany Cherry, Monica James, CLo (Christina Lauren), Vi Keeland, Sarina Bowen, RK Lilley, Chris Lilley, Lexi Ryan, Alessandra Torre, Audrey Carlan, Geneva Lee, Pam Godwin and Tijan.
Then came time for the Write or Die retreat in Seattle and even though I was there to give a presentation on outlining and how I use screenwriting to plot my books, I ended up learning so much from all the authors, aspiring or not. So thank you to Rachel Hollis, SL Jennings, Dina Silver, Jen Sterling, Willow Aster, Kim Lorraine, my PR guru Jen Watson, Christine Estevez. And of course, Tarryn Fisher.
Thank you to Nina Decker for her beta skills (she’s good, you guys), Mary Ruth for her wonderful teasers, Sandra for being an ear, Laura Helseth and Roxane Leblanc for quick, super-last-minute editing. Nina Grinstead for being on the ball, making me promote this dang book and keeping my life in order.
Last but never least, my husband Scott Mackenzie, who is in this writing journey with me every st
ep of the way. And for trying to take me seriously while I poked my head in the bathroom as he was brushing his teeth and excitedly described in detail the “ropes” sex scene with Mav & Riley, whilst wearing a face mask (Ole Henriksen Hygge Hyrdaclay Detox Mask, for those wondering) and a crazy expression on my face. You’re always able to see beneath the crazy and I thank you for that!
Oh and thank you Depeche Mode. As a long-time fan, your music has always influenced my writing and this time, Delta Machine and Spirit became the fuel for this book. If you can listen to “Cover Me” during the last chapter, please do so.
PS just a reminder that Hot Shot (previously titled Loose Cannon), Fox and Del’s story, will be releasing in January and there should be preorder links out at all retailers by the time you read this.
PREVIEW OF WILD CARD
* * *
PROLOGUE
* * *
The word love never sounded so wild as it did when it came from the lips of Shane Nelson.
That one simple word that would set my heart loose, like a horse galloping across the plains, free and real and pure. And yet my heart would always return.
My heart would always return to him.
“I love you, Raven,” he’d say, and I wouldn’t just hear it. I’d feel it. I’d live it. The love he had for me, the love I had for him—it was in my every breath. It hitched the moon in my sky.
Raven was my nickname, partly because it sounded like Rachel, partly because he grew up on Ravenswood Ranch, partly because it was at that ranch, nestled at the foot of Cherry Peak where the forested slopes yield to rolling hills of yellow grass and sagebrush, that I fell in love with the clever birds.
It’s where I fell in love with him.
Shane and I would spend hours on horseback, riding side by side, pretending to help out his father and grandpa by checking on the cattle while the birds called to each other from the tops of the ponderosa pines. The reality is, we just wanted to spend every second we could together. We were nothing if not inseparable.
It’s like we knew that time was running out. Even as a teenager, there was a sense of urgency, like a ticking clock that was counting the long minutes until a bomb went off. I so desperately wanted to run away from North Ridge and never come back. I so desperately wanted, needed, Shane to come with me.
But even though he told me he would, I knew he wouldn’t. His home, his heart, was here. Not with me. And as time continued to wreak havoc on us, as we made wild love like we were dying, afraid of the distance when we weren’t skin to skin, the more Shane continued to pull away. I didn’t see it at the time but then again, you never do.
Loss of love is the most terrifying feeling in the world. It’s the feeling of your heart emptying, slowly being drained. Because that’s the thing about love. It’s free to give. It’s never free to receive. We all know the cost of loving someone, of being open-hearted, open-souled. We know that at any moment it could all end. The world is filled with worst-case scenarios. People die. People cheat. People fall out of love. People lose sight of who they are, or what they want. People…they grow apart.
I’m still not sure what happened on that fateful night—which of the above it was that made everything crash and burn around us. What led Shane to do the things he did, what made him smash my bleeding heart into smithereens.
All I knew was that the love we shared was over.
Years of being full.
Heartful, soulful, wonderful.
All gone.
And he finally gave me the will, the drive, to leave North Ridge behind.
Never to look back.
Never to return.
Until now.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Shane
“I heard that Rachel Waters is back in town.”
It takes a moment for the words to properly sink in. I slowly raise my head and look at Delilah as she cracks open a beer for another customer.
“Come again?” I ask her, ignoring the stillness in my chest.
A flash of something comes over her green eyes, maybe pity, maybe trepidation. I hadn’t heard Rachel’s name uttered in ages and yet Del’s treating it like we just broke up yesterday.
It wasn’t yesterday. It’s been six years since Rachel Waters left the town of North Ridge, British Columbia, six years since I last saw her. I haven’t even been able to stalk her on social media. She’s had that shit locked down since the day she left, as if she wanted to forget every single thing, every single person that had something to do with this little mountain town.
Most of all, she wanted to forget me.
So to hear that she’s back, well, it’s more than a surprise.
“She’s back,” Delilah says with a shrug, heading down the bar to slide the pale ales toward Jeremy and Finn, sitting where they’re always sitting.
“I heard that too,” Jer says, scratching at his scraggly grey beard. “Don’t know why, but I have a feeling it has to do with Vernalee. Beth down at the hospital says she’s been in a few times. Don’t know what for.”
Vernalee Waters is Rachel’s mother, and she’s tough as nails. She’s not the type to go to the hospital for anything, not if she can help it.
“I saw her today,” a voice from the corner booth says.
I turn on my stool to see Joe sitting there, palming a beer, cigarette smoke billowing from the corner of his mouth.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re you doing?” Delilah says, and in a flash she’s swinging herself over the bar instead of walking around it, stalking over to Joe’s table. She rips the cigarette from his mouth before stamping it out with the heel of her boot. “Damn it, Joe.”
Joe just laughs like he always does. I wouldn’t say he’s the town drunk as we have quite a few of those, but he’s definitely this bar’s drunk. And nearly every night here at the Bear Trap, the same song and dance plays out. Delilah, the bartender/owner and a girl who is pretty much a sister to me, dukes it out with Old Joe over smoking. If it’s not smoking, it’s that he’s snuck in a bottle of liquor, adding it to his drinks or just “forgetting” to bring money.
But their nightly routine is the least of my concern right now.
“You saw her, Joe?” I ask the old-timer.
He flashes Del a sweet smile and then nods at me. “Sure did. In Safeway. Almost didn’t recognize her. She looks good, though. Put on some weight, but she always was too skinny.”
I swallow, shifting in my seat. I want to ask more but I shouldn’t. Everyone in this room knows how it ended between us. Very dramatically, very publicly. Something neither of us would like to think of again. I pushed her away in a storm of lies, broke both our damn hearts, and the only good thing to come out of it is the fact that she left, far away from the demons in this town.
So, the fact that Rachel is here of all places and her mother was in the hospital, the two have to be connected.
This is throwing me for a fucking loop.
Somewhere, deep in my chest, a raw hope is starting to stir.
Delilah sighs, wiping her hands on her jeans, and jerks her chin at me. “Want another beer, cowboy?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hate that nickname. Cowboy. Granted, I do work on the family ranch as my full-time job but even so, it’s not like I wear a cowboy hat and boots on the street. Even now I’m dressed in black jeans, a battered old baseball cap with the ranch’s faded logo, a white tee under a red flannel. Tattoos under my clothes. Vans on my feet. Even though it’s the middle of summer here in North Ridge, the nights can be chilly.
“Would you run away with me?”
Rachel’s voice echoes in my head, a voice that I shouldn’t hear. Her face looms large yet vague, a passing phantasm in my mind, that look in her eyes. It took so long to realize what she was running away from, took so long to see the depths of her pain. I should have known from the start.
Shit, I hope this isn’t the start of old memories getting dredged up, memories I’ve spent six
years trying to bury.
“I probably shouldn’t,” I tell Del.
She’s surprised. I don’t blame her. I’m usually drinking on Saturday night, pretty much the only time off I get from the ranch. “Early start tomorrow?” she asks.
“Not really,” I tell her. “Might have to go out on the range, move some cows.” And at my lack of argument, I pick up my empty beer bottle and wave it at her with a nod.
“Pushover,” she says with a smile as she reaches into the fridge and pulls out another cold one, passing it over to me.
Del’s mother, Jeanine, was my nanny growing up. After my mother died when I was six months old, my father needed as much help as he could to raise me and my brothers, Maverick and Fox, while he and my grandpa ran Ravenswood Ranch. Jeanine and Del lived in the guest cottage on the property for as long as I could remember. She was six when I was born and she’s felt like my big sister ever since.
And she is big, too, as in tall. Delilah is five foot eleven and in great shape. It’s probably why she does such a good job at running the Bear Trap. She’s usually as sweet as can be and her face is girl-next-door cute, but she’s got a lot of sass and I’ve seen her throw a few punches to unruly patrons more than a few times. Most of the guys don’t think the tall pretty girl has it in her so it’s often a moment worth putting on YouTube, if you’re into that kind of thing.
But North Ridge is a small town. Population of 10,000 in the off-season. Word travels fast. If you’re going to be an asshole and pick fights, the Bear Trap isn’t the place to do it, social media videos of a girl handing you your ass aside.
Not that many tourists come here anyway. It’s dimly lit, the walls dark wood, and there’s a layer of peanut shells on the floor with bowls of peanuts at each table. The neon signs, advertising beer companies that are no longer in business, buzz and flicker half-heartedly. Delilah keeps the bar stocked with only the basics, and if you come in here ordering a drink that has more than three ingredients, she’ll look at you like you’re hard of hearing.
