Wild Card

—Steve—

I died nine months ago. My heart was still buried six feet under. Being labeled a widower at thirty was too kind. I was a ghost. Eat. Sleep. Work. Repeat. Until she crashed into my life without warning.

—Erica—

Three seconds changed everything. Now I was starting over. New town. New house. New neighbor—one who didn’t seem particularly excited for me to be around. Not that I could blame him. He saw me on the worst day of my life. But it looked like life had one more wild card for me.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Slow Burn? Oh yeah! Steamy? Of course! Feels? Buy tissues in bulk. A grumpy cop with a penchant for telling it like it is. A good girl who has a serious aversion to four letter words. Adult kickball tournament? Watch a group of hunky first responders throw down like they’re in middle school. This is a story of redemption, forgiveness, and second chances.

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