Bitter Creek – Kings Brats Series #3


For readers of Linda Lael Miller and Susan Mallery comes New York Times bestselling author Joan Johnston’s sizzling contemporary Western romance, where power, money, and rivalries rule—and love is the best revenge.

Taylor Grayhawk and Brian Flynn are two old flames forced together under perilous circumstances. Taylor, a corporate pilot, has been burned by men – including Brian – in the past, and has given up on the possibility of any kind of happily-ever-after. Brian, a firefighter, is a recent divorcee, so heart sore and gun-shy that he is unlikely to ever fall in love again. But when this pilot and this smoke jumper are caught fighting a raging wildfire arm-in-arm, they’re forced to leap headfirst into the flames, and hopefully make it out with their hearts still intact.

    • Mass Market Paperback: 368 pages
    • Publisher: Dell, March 27, 2018
    • Language: English
    • ISBN-10: 0399177760
    • ISBN-13: 978-0399177767

Excerpt from the “King’s Brats” series


Does your life really flash before your eyes when you know you’re going to die?  Taylor Grayhawk was a great pilot, but there was nothing she could do with both engines flared out.  A whirlwind of fire had engulfed her Twin Otter as she flew over Yellowstone National Park dropping smoke jumpers to fight the raging inferno that had been burning for the past two weeks.  She turned to stare over her shoulder at the single smoke jumper who hadn’t made it out of the plane.

“You can still jump,” she said over the eerie rustle of the wind in the open doorway at the rear of the plane.

“Not without you,” the jumper called back.

“I don’t have a parachute.”

“We can share mine.”

Taylor calculated the odds of getting to the ground hanging on to Brian Flynn by her fingernails—and whatever other body parts she could wrap around him.  He was wearing a padded jump jacket and pants made of Kevlar, the same material used for bulletproof vests.  It was bulky, to say the least.  She imagined herself falling—sliding down his body—into the flames below and shuddered.

“I’ll take my chances on getting the plane to the ground in one piece,” she said, turning back to the control panel to see how much lift she could manage without the engines.  Not much.  She searched in vain for a meadow—any opening in the trees—where she might crash-land the plane.

The spotter, who was required on all flights to gauge the wind, fire activity, and terrain, hadn’t shown up, so Brian, already dressed in smoke jumping gear, had served as the spotter instead.  Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to steer her away from what turned out to be a catastrophic encounter with fire.  Taylor doubted anyone could have anticipated the sudden tornado of flame that had shot up hundreds of feet into the air from the forest

“This plane’s headed straight into the fire,” Brian said from the doorway.  “We need to jump now, while there’s still time to hit a safe clearing.  Get over here, Tag.  Move your butt!”

The use of her nickname, which came from her initials—Taylor Ann Grayhawk—conjured powerful, painful memories from the past.  Brian had dubbed her with it when he was a junior and she was a freshman at Jackson High.

Taylor felt the plane shudder as the right wingtip was abruptly shoved upward by a gust of hot air and knew that time was running out.  In a voice that was surprisingly calm, considering the desperation she felt inside, Taylor reported their position on the radio, along with the fact that she’d been unable to restart the engines.

“I’m putting us down in the first clearing I find,” she told the dispatcher.

“Roger,” the dispatcher replied.  “Good luck.”

The problem was she didn’t see a clearing large enough to allow her to land without going in nose first.  Survival was questionable.  Disaster seemed imminent.

Two words kept replaying in her mind: “What if . . .?”

What if their fathers, King Grayhawk and Angus Flynn, hadn’t been mortal enemies?  What if Brian’s elder brother, Aiden, hadn’t caught Brian making love to her after the junior prom?  What if her fraternal twin sister, Victoria, hadn’t made it clear that if Taylor didn’t stay away from Brian, who was just one more of “those awful Flynn boys,” she was never speaking to her again?

Brian had become a firefighter and married someone else.  She’d become a corporate pilot and gone through several futile engagements.  They were both free now, but Brian’s divorce a year ago had left him so heart sore and gun shy that he was likely never to fall in love again.

None of that mattered now.  Very likely she and Brian were going to die in the next few minutes.  What made her heart ache was regret for what her life might have been like if only . . .


She looked over her shoulder at the tall, broad-shouldered man who’d been forbidden fruit when she was a teenager.  She’d run her fingers through his thick black hair, holding on tight as they made love.  His piercing blue eyes had seen past her movie-star-beautiful, confident, blond-haired, blue-eyed exterior to the abandoned child inside, who desperately wanted to be loved.

She’d grown up with an older sister as a mother, after her own mother had run off with one of her father’s cowhands.  Her wealthy father had been mostly absent, serving two terms as Wyoming governor in Cheyenne, while he left his four daughters back home at his ranch in Jackson Hole.

Because of the animosity between their families, she’d started out determined to seduce Brian Flynn—and dump him.  It would be fair repayment for all the nasty things he and his three brothers had done to her and her three sisters.  His heart was supposed to end up broken, not hers.  She hadn’t planned on liking him.  Brian was the first boy to offer affection in return for the sex she’d been offering to any boy who gave her a kind look—and some whose looks weren’t so kind—hoping to find someone who would care about her.

“I’m not leaving without you, Tag,” Brian said.  “Get out of that seat and get your beautiful ass over here!”

Their eyes met, and she felt the past flooding back.  All the things she should have done . . . and hadn’t.  All the things she shouldn’t have done . . . and had.

The thought of a future with Brian almost had her rising.  But there was too much water under the bridge.  Or water over the dam.  She’d been disappointed too many times by too many men. Some people were lovable, and some were not.  She was just one of those people who wasn’t destined to find a man who could love her.  Brian Flynn had had his chance.  She no longer believed in the possibility of any kind of happily ever after.  Her life was liable to end in an altogether more gruesome way.

“You go,” she said turning back to search through the windshield for the clearing she knew had to be there somewhere.

A moment later she felt a strong hand grip her arm, yanking her out of her seat.

“I am not, by God, going to take the blame for leaving you behind, you stubborn brat!”

The plane shuddered, and the wings tipped sideways.

“Let me go!” she cried, reaching back to the control column in an attempt to right the plane.  But he pulled her inexorably toward the door, which was already tilting upward in an angle that might keep them both from escaping.

Taylor jerked free and rushed back to her seat, grabbing the control column and bringing the plane back to level flight. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “Just go, Brian!  Someone has to keep the plane steady so you can get out the door.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Tag.  Get that into your head.  So you can either join me in getting out of this plane, or we can both go down with it in flames.”


Bitter Creek – Kings Brats Series #2


For readers of Linda Lael Miller and Susan Mallery comes New York Times bestselling author Joan Johnston’s sizzling contemporary Western romance, where power, money, and rivalries rule—and love is the best revenge.


Scorned, pregnant, and facing a life without promise, Pippa Grayhawk is stunned when her father announces that they’re leaving their home in Australia to take over his estranged father’s sprawling Wyoming ranch. Drawn into bitter family rivalries and feeling like an interloper in her new home, Pippa rides out into the wilderness and meets an intriguing stranger and his pet wolf. The wolf doesn’t scare her, but she’s very much afraid to trust another man with her heart.

Devon Flynn knows all about going it alone. He lives in an isolated cabin, away from his domineering father and the scandal surrounding his family. Devon’s attraction to Pippa is intoxicating and undeniable, but when he tries to get close, she’s as wary as his once-wild wolf. Devon is willing to defy his father, and hers, to claim Pippa as his own, but winning this wounded, wonderful woman’s love might be the greatest battle of all.

    • Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
    • Publisher: Dell, December 29, 2015
    • Language: English
    • ISBN-10: 0804178682
    • ISBN-13: 978-0804178686

Excerpt from the “King’s Brats” series


The instant Eve and Connor walked away to dance, Pippa jumped up from her seat at the picnic table and fled. Why did her father treat her as though she were still a child? She felt furious. And frustrated. And frightened. She was unwed and pregnant with a child whose father she loathed as much as she’d once loved him. But she wanted this baby with all her being, and she was determined to raise it on her own, no matter how many obstacles her father, however kindhearted his intentions, put in her way.

A strong hand caught her arm and dragged her to a stop. “Pippa. Wait!”

She whirled and snarled at Devon, “I’m not going back to live with my father. Not today. Not ever. If I can’t stay with you, then I’ll—”

“I was going to ask if you’re ready to go home. With me.”

Pippa huffed out a breath. “Yes. I am.” She met Devon’s gaze and realized she’d been so focused on her own troubles that she’d forgotten about his. “Are you all right?”

His voice was low and hoarse as he asked, “Where did your father get the idea that I’m not Angus’s son?”

“I have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if he made it up as an excuse to get me to come back home.”

“I notice my father didn’t deny it.”

“He shouldn’t have to,” Pippa said. “Why would you believe such a thing?”

Devon met her gaze and said, “Because I’m not like the rest of them.”


“I don’t look the same. I don’t want the same things. And Angus doesn’t treat me the same way.” He shrugged and said simply, “I’ve never felt like I belong.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re the youngest.”

“Maybe it’s because I had a different father. And because I killed my mother when I was born.”

Pippa didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. She merely took Devon’s hand in hers and said, “Let’s go home. Beowulf will be hungry.”

Devon’s gray wolf, which he’d raised from a pup, was always hungry. He was huge and he wasn’t fully grown yet.

Devon sighed. “I suppose I’m not likely to get any answers from Angus today. I’m not sure I want to know the truth.”

As they walked back to Devon’s pickup, Pippa tried to imagine what Devon must be feeling. How awful to discover that your mother had cheated on your father—if, in fact, that was what had happened. If Devon had a different father, what had happened to him? If he was out there somewhere, did he know about Devon?

Pippa realized that her life at Devon’s remote mountain ranch had just gotten infinitely more complicated, because the “relative” she’d been staying with might no longer be related to her. She eyed Devon askance. He might not have the same black hair, blue eyes, and over-six-foot height as his brothers, but to her, his lithe build, gray-green eyes, and sun-streaked chestnut hair were even more attractive. She was tall, but he stood tall enough to make her feel protected within his embrace, which he’d offered strictly as solace the day she’d come to him seeking a place to stay.

Pippa hadn’t felt shy running around in a robe with Devon in his pajama bottoms because they were second cousins. She hoped this revelation wouldn’t interfere with the ease they’d found together. Even if they weren’t related, there was no chance of anything romantic happening between them. She wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone after what she’d just been through.

Not to mention the fact that she was pregnant. She hadn’t told Devon about the baby because she’d figured she would only be staying with him until she could figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

As Devon helped her into the cab of his pickup, a courtesy he never failed to offer, Pippa realized that she admired his kindness and affinity to animals even more than his looks. Beowulf wasn’t the only wild animal he’d rescued, but she’d learned that he usually nursed them back to health and then released them into the wild again. However, Beowulf would have been in danger because he no longer feared humans, so Devon had kept him.

“I hope you’re going to hang around for a little while,” Devon said. “Despite what your dad said about me.”

“I don’t have anywhere I have to be. If you’re willing for me to stay, I’m willing to stay.”

“Good,” Devon said. “I’ve been living alone a long time. It’s nice to have company.”

Pippa wondered what Devon would think when he found out who it was he’d really welcomed into his home. That she’d run away with a married man. That she was pregnant with his child. That the small town in Australia where she’d lived had found her behavior so shameful that her father had agreed to return to a place he’d sworn he would never visit again in his lifetime. And that she’d come with him because she’d wanted to escape the label of adultress that would have branded her forever after.

But she didn’t have to tell him today. He had enough to deal with today, and maybe for a while yet. Her pregnancy didn’t show. So long as she could hide it, she would.

And when you can’t? What is Devon going to think when he realizes you’ve been lying to him all along?

Maybe she’d be gone from his ranch before that happened.

And go where? With what money? Your only skill is whispering wild horses. Can you really do that when you’re the size of a hippo? You have to tell him.

Pippa sighed.

“Are you all right?”

“I wish . . .” She let the words hang in the air. She wished she’d done a lot of things differently.

“Yeah,” Devon said. “So do I.”

Pippa smiled and reached out to brush his forearm in a gesture of friendship. “Thanks, Devon.”

“For what?”

“For understanding.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been where you are, Pippa. Believe it or not, I had to run away from home, too.”


He smiled. “Angus had a fit when he found out I’d bought this ranch in the mountains. Told me I was crazy to live so isolated from other people. Told me I was just like—” He paused, and looked at her with a shocked expression. “Angus cut himself off. He never said who I was just like.” Devon’s mouth flattened. “It must be him I’m like. My biological father.”

“Maybe you should try to find him.”

“What point would that serve? He’s nothing to me.”

“Except it seems you’re a great deal like him.”

“How did we get on this subject?” Devon said irritably.

“We were wishing things could be different.”

The silence between them grew oppressive. Finally, Pippa could stand it no longer. “Is it true Angus figured out a way to ruin King?”

Devon laughed. “You really know how to change the subject.”

Pippa grinned. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“Yes, he might have figured out a way to do it. But no, it’s not a sure thing yet. Your dad might have come all this way for nothing. He might end up losing Kingdom Come to Angus.”

Pippa’s grin disappeared. “You’re kidding, right?”

Devon shook his head. “Angus has been pretty closemouthed about when the ax will fall, but he’s been gloating that the day is coming when he’ll finally have his revenge for my aunt’s death.”

“Is there anything King can do, or my father, to stop him?”

Devon shrugged. “Who knows? By the time King figures out what Angus has been plotting it may be too late.”

“What about my dad? He left everything behind to come here. What’s he supposed to do?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

Pippa turned to face Devon as much as she could within the constraints of her seat belt. “Is there any way we can find out what Angus intends?”

“What would you do with the information?”

“Tell my father, of course.”

“You’ve run away from your dad, but you still want to help him?”

“He’s my father. I love him.” And he has good reasons for wanting to protect me.

Devon shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Pippa. I don’t agree with what Angus is doing. But he’s my father and—” Devon cut himself off. His lips pressed flat and a muscle worked in his jaw.

Because Angus might not be his father, Pippa realized. And he’d apparently treated Devon differently than his other sons.

“All right,” Devon said. “Let’s do it. I’ve never supported Angus’s desire for revenge. I’ll see what I can find out.”


Bitter Creek – Kings Brats Series #1


For readers of Linda Lael Miller and Susan Mallery comes New York Times bestselling author Joan Johnston’s sizzling contemporary Western romance, where power, money, and rivalries rule—and love is the best revenge.


After a tragic accident leaves Delta sergeant Connor Flynn a widower, he faces the toughest fight of his life: battling his in-laws for custody of his two young children. To win he’ll need a make-believe bride to take care of the kids while he runs his Wyoming ranch. Who better than a woman he already knows and likes—his late wife’s best friend?

Ruthlessly forced from her home by her powerful father, King Grayhawk, Eve needs somewhere to go . . . and so does the herd of wild mustangs she’s rescued. Connor’s offer sounds like the answer to a prayer. But Eve has a guilty secret she’s guarded for years: She’s always been in love with Connor.

Now forced to live under the same roof as her heart’s desire, Eve must hide the love that has never died, while Connor vows to resist his growing need for a woman who was forbidden fruit during his marriage. Can two lonely people set adrift by fate and haunted by guilt find redemption in the healing embrace of love?

    • Mass Market Paperback: 304 pages
    • Publisher: Dell, April 28, 2015
    • Language: English
    • ISBN-10: 0804178666
    • ISBN-13: 978-0804178662
SINFUL excerpt

Chapter 1

Her name was Eve. Not Evelyn or Eveline or Evette. Just Eve. The day she was born, her father, King Grayhawk, took one look at her large blue eyes, soft blond curls, and bowed upper lip and whispered, “Eve.” Apparently, she reminded him of some woman he’d fallen in love with as a younger man. That Eve, he’d declared, was the only woman he had ever loved.

Those words, spoken as her mother lay recovering from labor, must have been the final insult, because Eve was still a babe in arms when her mom ran off with one of King’s cowhands. Eve had grown up with the knowledge that her birth had caused a terrible rift between her parents. That marital fracture had left her and her fraternal twin sisters, Taylor and Victoria, and their older stepsister, Leah, as motherless children.

Eve felt burdened by her name. It didn’t help that she shared it with the woman who’d tempted Adam to sin in the Garden of Eden. In high school she was teased and taunted as she began to acquire seductive curves. She was sure one of those pain-in-the-butt Flynn brothers had started it, but the other boys had quickly followed his lead.

“Show me an apple, and I’ll eat it,” a boy would say, “so long as you come along with it, Eve.” Or, “Too bad you ate that apple, Eve, or we’d all still be running around naked,” followed by a lurid grin.

She’d gotten pretty good at sending back zingers like, “If God had seen you naked, Buck, He might have decided He made a real mistake only taking out a rib.” But the constant innuendo made Eve’s teenage life miserable.

That was the least of the trouble those four awful Flynn brothers—Aiden, Brian, Connor, and Devon—had caused her and her sisters over the years.

From her father’s rants at supper, Eve had known he was feuding with Angus Flynn. It wasn’t until she was eight years old that she understood why. Angus’s older sister, Jane, had been King’s first wife, and Angus blamed King for his unhappy sister’s death from an overdose of barbiturates. Eve had no idea whether her father was innocent or not, but he was sorely tried by Angus’s efforts to blight his life.

The animosity should have remained between their fathers, but it had bled onto their children. Angus Flynn’s four sons were infamous around Jackson Hole for wreaking havoc and causing mischief. After their aunt Jane died, as though a switch had been flipped, the Flynn brothers began aiming all that tomfoolery toward Eve and her sisters. It didn’t take long before King’s Brats, who’d done their own share of troublemaking around Jackson Hole, were giving as good as they got from those wild Flynn boys.

Eve could remember vividly the year fourteen-year-old Leah’s blueberry pie had been mysteriously doused with salt at the Four-H competition. Her stepsister had retaliated by shaving the flank of fourteen-year-old Aiden’s Four-H calf so it looked like it had the mange.

Some of the mischief she and her sisters perpetrated was merely a nuisance. Like putting an ad in the paper for a cattle auction at the Flynn ranch, the Lucky 7, beginning at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning, offering their prize bull for sale, when no such auction existed.

Eve had helped Taylor and Victoria punch a tiny hole in the gas tank of Brian’s truck, so that when he and Devon headed off to hunt deer in the mountains, where there was no cell phone reception, they’d ended up making a long, bitterly cold walk back to civilization.

The Flynns had retaliated by placing slices of bologna in a vulgar design on the hood of Taylor and Victoria’s cherry-red Jeep Laredo. The next morning, when her sisters pulled the deli meat off the hood, the preservatives in the bologna caused the top layer of paint to come off as well, leaving the distinct imprint of male genitalia.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the pranks had remained physically harmless. They hadn’t. When Eve was a freshman in high school, the cinch of her saddle had been cut before a barrel race at a local rodeo, and she’d broken her arm when the saddle broke free. Eve could remember how enraged Leah was in the moments before the ambulance carted her away. The Flynn boys were competing at the same rodeo in calf roping. They should have known to check their cinches, but Eve supposed they hadn’t expected Leah to retaliate so quickly. When Aiden roped a calf his cinch broke—along with his leg.

The mischief escalated into attacks involving other people. Taylor’s and Victoria’s prom dates were kidnapped by a couple of boys wearing hoods, who tied them to a tree so they never showed up. The twins were devastated. The fallout afterward was even worse. The kidnapped boys made it clear that it wasn’t worth the trouble to date a Grayhawk when it meant putting up with all the horseshit being shoveled by those crazy Flynn boys.

Since Eve had lived in the same small town her whole life, the “harmless” high school prank involving her name had been a continuing source of irritation. Most of the kids who’d gone to high school with her still lived in Jackson, and there was always some jerk who couldn’t resist prodding her, hoping to get under her skin.

Like now.

Eve wasn’t looking to hook up or make waves. All she wanted to do was sit at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar on the square in Jackson, along with the tourists who’d come to enjoy the last of the black-diamond ski season on the Grand Tetons, review the digital photographs she’d taken that day of the herd of wild mustangs she’d rescued, and enjoy her martini.

“Is that an apple martini, Eve?” a man called from behind her.

Eve turned to find Buck Madison, the former Jackson Broncs quarterback, grinning like an idiot at one of the pool tables in the center of the bar. Two of his former teammates stood shoulder to shoulder with him, giggling like teenage girls. All three were obviously drunk. She purposefully turned her attention back to the digital shot of the only colt in her herd. With any luck, Buck would give up and shut up.

Eve smiled as she studied the image of Midnight frolicking with his mother, his black mane and tail flying, his back arched, and all four hooves off the ground.

“You look good enough to tempt a man to sin, Eve.”

Buck’s voice was loud in a bar that had suddenly become quiet. Eve shut off her camera and laid it on the bar as she dismounted the Western saddle on a stand—complete with stirrups—that served as a bar stool. She glanced at Buck in the mirror over the bar as she gathered her North Face fleece from where it hung off the saddle horn. She wasn’t going to get into a war of words with a drunk. It was a lose-lose proposition. She had one arm through her fleece when Buck stripped it back off, dangling it from his forefinger.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he said, wagging the finger holding the fleece. “I’m not done looking yet.”

She turned to confront Buck, her chin upthrust, her blue eyes shooting daggers of disdain. “I’m done being ogled. Give me my coat.”

She held out her hand and waited.

She felt a wave of resentment toward the Flynns, who’d started that whole Garden of Eden business in the first place. She couldn’t help the fact that she’d developed a lush female figure in high school. At twenty-six, she’d made peace with her body. There was no easy way to conceal her curves, so she didn’t try. But she did nothing to emphasize them, either.

She was dressed in a plaid western shirt that was belted into a pair of worn western jeans. She had on scuffed cowboy boots, but instead of a Stetson, she usually wore a faded navy-blue-and-orange Denver Broncos ball cap. She’d left the cap in her pickup, but her chin-length, straw-blond hair was tucked behind her ears to keep it out of her way.

“My coat?” she said.

As she reached for it, Buck pulled it away. “How about a kiss first?”

Eve had opened her mouth to retort when a brusque male voice said, “Give the lady her coat.”

Eve hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind her, which surprised her. She photographed wild animals in their natural habitat and prided herself on her awareness of her surroundings. In the wilderness, missing the slightest sound could result in being bitten by a rattler or attacked by a bear or mountain lion. She glanced over her shoulder and felt her heart skip a beat when she recognized her unlikely savior.

Connor Flynn.

Connor was third in line of the Flynn brothers, but he’d been at the top of the teenage troublemaking list. He was thirty now but, if anything, his reputation was worse. He’d done three tours as a Delta sergeant in Afghanistan before leaving the military with several medals to prove his heroism in battle.

He’d paid a high price for his long absences from home serving his country. A year ago his wife, Molly, who’d been Eve’s best friend, had died in a car accident while Connor was overseas. After the funeral, he’d agreed to let Molly’s parents take his kids into their home while he served the nine months left on his final tour of duty.

Now they were threatening to keep them.

Connor had ended up in a court battle to get his two-year-old son and four-year-old daughter back. So far he hadn’t been able to wrench them away from his late wife’s parents. They’d argued to a judge that Connor was a battle-weary soldier, a victim of post-traumatic stress, and therefore a threat to his children. According to all the psychological tests he’d been forced to endure to prove them wrong, he was fine. But seeing him now, Eve wondered for the very first time if Molly’s parents might not be completely off the mark.

Connor looked dangerous, his sapphire-blue eyes hooded, his cheeks and chin covered with at least a two-day-old beard, and a hank of his rough-cut, crow-wing-black hair resting on his scarred forehead. His lips had thinned to an ominous line.

If she’d been Buck, she would have handed over the coat in a heartbeat. But Buck wasn’t known for his smarts.

“Butt out!” Buck said. “This is between me and Eve.”

Without warning, Connor’s hand shot out and gripped Buck’s throat. Buck dropped the coat to protect his neck, but Connor didn’t let go. His inexorable grasp was slowly choking the big man to death. Even using both hands, Buck couldn’t get free.

Eve looked around the bar, expecting someone, anyone, to intervene. No one did. She wouldn’t have interfered except she knew that Connor might be turning the lock and throwing away the key where custody of his kids was concerned. She didn’t step in for Connor’s sake. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have thrown a glass of water to douse a Flynn on fire. But she cared very much about the future well-being of her dead friend’s children, who needed their father alive and well and out of jail.

Despite Connor’s long absences, Molly had been convinced that he would take good care of their children if anything ever happened to her. Eve owed it to her best friend to make sure Connor didn’t ruin his chance of becoming the wonderful father Molly had always believed he could be.

As carefully as if she were approaching a feral wolf, Eve laid her fingertips on Connor’s bare forearm, the one that led to the hand grasping Buck’s throat. She turned so she was looking into his narrowed eyes. “Connor,” she said in a quiet voice. “This won’t help. Let go.”

She watched his upper lip curl as though he was snarling while his gaze remained focused on the helpless man in his grasp.

“Think of the kids!” she said more urgently. “For their sake, let go. Please.”

He turned to look at her when she said “kids” and then seemed to hear the rest of her sentence. He looked at his hand and seemed surprised to discover that he was still choking Buck. Suddenly, he let go and took a step back.

Buck gasped a breath of air, and with the next breath croaked, “Molly’s parents are right. You should be in a cage!” Now that Buck was free, his two football buddies, each brandishing a pool cue, moved up to flank him.

Connor stood as though in a daze, rubbing his forehead where the scar from a war wound loomed white against his tanned skin. Eve realized that if Connor didn’t leave in a hurry, there was likely to be a free-for-all. She grabbed her fleece from the floor and her camera from the bar, gripped Connor’s hand, and pulled him out the door after her.

She headed away from the bar in case the three drunks decided to follow them outside into the frosty March evening. She hadn’t realized where she was going until she reached her Dodge Ram pickup, which was parked under the colorful neon cowboy on a bucking bronc that lit up the bar. She let go of Connor’s hand in order to hang her camera by its strap around her neck, then pulled on her fleece. She shook her head in disgust at his behavior in the bar as he frowned back at her.

“What were you thinking?” she said. “Were you trying to get arrested? Don’t you want to be a father to Brooke and Sawyer?”

“I was thinking that son of a bitch was being a pain in the ass, all because of something I started in high school.”

Eve stared at him in shock. Connor was responsible for all those cruel taunts about her name?

He shoved a hand through his hair, but a hank of it fell back onto his forehead. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“I wish I hadn’t bothered, now that I know you started that ‘Eve’ business. Do you have any idea how much aggravation you caused me in high school?”

He shot her a mutinous, unapologetic look. “No more than you caused me by telling Molly I’d take her to that Sadie Hawkins dance her freshman year. No thanks to you it turned out all right.”

Eve felt a stab of shame. Molly had been crazy about Connor Flynn in high school. So had Eve. But she might as well have aspired to date the man in the moon. Not just because Connor was a senior and she was a freshman, but because Connor was a Flynn. A broken arm. A broken leg. Ruined dreams. Too many years of hurt and harm stood between them.

Molly had desperately wanted to ask Connor to the Sadie Hawkins dance, but she’d been too shy to do it. Eve had told her friend that she would ask for her but then chickened out. Besides, she didn’t want her best friend dating the boy she had a crush on herself. She’d lied and told Molly that she’d asked Connor and he’d said yes, figuring that Connor would blow Molly off when she came running up to him, excited that he’d accepted her invitation, and Molly would be humiliated and never speak to him again.

Admittedly, it was not her finest moment.

Instead, Connor had met Eve’s gaze as she stood by her locker across the hall while Molly smiled up at him, delighted that he’d accepted her invitation to the dance. His eyes had narrowed at Eve, as though he knew she was the one responsible for this further bit of Grayhawk-Flynn monkey business. Then he’d smiled down at Molly as though he was glad to be going to the dance with Eve’s best friend.

To Eve’s dismay, Molly and Connor were going steady by the time Connor graduated at the end of the year. He’d told Molly not to wait for him when he enlisted in the military, and Eve had felt a flare of hope that they might break up. But Molly called or texted or emailed or wrote Connor every day while he was away learning all the skills he’d need to fight a war.

“Joan Johnston captivates with Sinful…There are plenty of subplots, family dysfunction, the feud, rescue horses, a ranch for vets, single parenthood, I could go on and on…but the emotion rules them all! Contemporary Western at its best!” —Bodice Rippers