Independent and feisty, Shea Madison has a tussle on her hands. Living in and loving her quiet little corner of Montana, she’s fiercely determined to fight a real estate developer trying to turn her quaint little mountain town into a touristy ski resort. So, when an outsider shows up to study the effects on the area, she instantly attempts to sway his impression… even if it means a little harmless flirting with the enticing visitor.
Rhys Weland’s charade has one purpose—to bring the locals around to the idea of the resort, primarily the ringleader, Ms. Shea Madison. Embroiled in his deception, he’s stunned by the feelings she draws from deep inside him. Her integrity and sincerity quickly have him second-guessing his twisted morals. Her spirit arouses his soul. Her sensuality steals his breath.
In the dark of the night, in the warmth of the fire, the passion smoldering between them combusts. But just when it all seems to make sense, one small stubborn mistake shreds the fragile bond between them. Will an impetuous act reignite their flame, or will their love vanish like sparks in the air?
Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-loving mother, Sibylla was raised to treasure music that digs deep into the psyche, drawing out elation, sorrow, grief, desire. The soundtrack to her life includes many genres spanning centuries. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually... but, really, how can you NOT be crazy about this guy!? Jared Leto. Shhh. ) & pimps them out to all her friends through Spotify. She also delights in Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater & hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte.
Sibylla lives with her husband and hero who saved her from her own calamitous, young-adult self. He makes her laugh daily, even when things are tough. He's proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In 18 years, they have never had a fight, although argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess – there is a reason she is a writer & not a stand-up comedian). They live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers & little yap-dogs? OK, maybe not so quiet.
Rhys knitted his brow thoughtfully as their waitress came over to get their order. Shea looked up and muttered a very unladylike, “Aw, shit,” at the young girl who appeared at the table. Rhys looked up.
Hmm, she looked relatively familiar. He’d met her at the store, and again at the bar. What was her name? Brittany? No, wait… Trinity. And her eyes were wide as she took in the sight of Shea and Rhys at the table before her.
“Um, hey… Shea…” and turning to Rhys, she flushed deeply. “Rhys… You guys are, like… on a date or something?”
Shea groaned and planted her forehead in her palm, causing Rhys to smile.
“Um, yeah… took me a while, but I finally talked her into dinner. Gotta feed her now and then, you know. I can’t just keep her tied to the bed all the time.”
Shea’s head shot up in shock, and Trinity looked as though she was about to faint.
“Shea,” Rhys continued as though he hadn’t just said anything remotely scintillating, “do you know what you’d like?” He looked over at her stunned expression. “New York steak or filet mignon? Or, what’s the special tonight?”
“Um…” Trinity gasped, “Prime rib.”
“Sounds good to me. How about you, sweetheart?” he grinned back over at her. She was still stunned, but he could see a flicker of anger beginning to burn in her eyes. God, she was fun to rile up.
“Prime rib is fine,” she said shortly. “And a Glacier Select Ale, please. No glass…”
Rhys nodded at her selection of the local microbrew. “Same for me, please.” He shot Trinity a smile as she rushed off to the kitchen.
“Why are you always doing that to me?” Shea demanded as soon as the young girl had left their table. “Is it like your goal in life to mortify me in front of that girl?”
Rhys chuckled and reached across the table for her hand, smoothing his fingertips over her painted nails. Remembering how these hands had clenched against his shoulders, tangled in his hair, stroked his cock. Beautiful little hands. “Honestly?”
“No, I want you to lie to me,” Shea sarcastically ground out. “What the fuck? Yes, honestly.”
“I love to see your eyes sparkle like they do when you get all feisty. The flush in your cheeks.” His voice lowered. “The way you draw in a deep breath and it pushes your tits out so beautifully. You’re incredibly sexy when you’re mad.”