The first in a sensational new series, Jill Shalvis introduces Cameron, Stone, and T.J. Wilder—three bad-boy heroes who effortlessly mix breathtaking adventure and scorching sex appeal…
Get Wild…And Then Get Wilder…
Accountant Katie Kramer is a quintessential good girl—working hard, recycling diligently, all the while trying to ignore the feeling that she doesn’t fit in anywhere. That’s all she wants. Well, that—and amazing sex, and the kind of daredevil escapade she can look back on when she’s crunching numbers in a dusty cubicle. Which explains why she just took a job in Wishful, California, working for Wilder Adventures and Expeditions. Waking up to find a magnificently built stranger towering over her bed—that part defies explanation…
“Shalvis writes with humor, heart, and sizzling heat!” —Carly Phillips
“Jill Shalvis sweeps you away.” —Cherry Adair
“Live life balls out,” Katie Kramer told herself every night,
and even though she didn’t own a pair, she hoped the
mantra would keep the nightmares away.
Death and destruction and horror still dogged her dreams.
Until tonight, that is. Tonight she’d miraculously been nightmare
free. So when she opened her eyes sometime just before
one, she felt . . . confused. She wasn’t screaming about the
bridge collapsing, about being trapped in her car, hanging upside
down by her seatbelt fifty feet over the side of a cliff with
flames licking at her. . . .
Which meant something else had woken her. And whatever
it was, she wanted to kill it for interrupting the first solid sleep
she’d had in four months.
There was a fatal flaw with this logic, of course. Because
most likely it hadn’t been an it, but a someone.
She wasn’t alone.
Not prone to hysterics or drama, she shook her head in the
dark. She’d locked the cabin door. She was safe. Plus, she wasn’t
in Los Angeles anymore. After the accident, she’d gotten into
her brand-new used car and left town to fulfill her “balls out”
motto. She didn’t know what adventures were ahead of her
exactly, but the not knowing was part of the plan. She’d gone
north because Highway 5 had been the only freeway moving
faster than fifteen miles per hour and she’d needed to move
fast, needed to get as far from her old, staid, boring, careful life
as a tank of gas could get her.
Eight hours later, she’d found herself in the Sierras, where
it was real winter. None of LA’s lightweight weather where
flip-flops were risky for a few weeks in January, but the real
deal complete with snow piled high in berms on either side of
the roads and frost on her windows.
When she stopped for dinner in a tiny old west town named
Wishful, she’d nearly froze her fingers and toes right off. And
yet, after all her nightmares of heat and flames, she loved it.
Loved the huge wide-open sky, loved the way her breath crystallized
in front of her face, loved the way the trees smelled
Then she’d seen the want ad.
LOCAL OUTDOOR ADVENTURE AND
EXPEDITION COMPANY SEEKING TEMPORARY
OFFICE MANAGER, ADVENTUROUS
SPIRIT REQUIRED. CALL WILDER
ADVENTURES FOR MORE INFO.
That had been it for her; she was sold. She’d been working
for Wilder Adventures for a week now, the best week in recent
memory. Up until right this second when a shadowy outline of
a man appeared in her room. Like the newly brave woman she
was, she threw the covers over her head and hoped he hadn’t
“Hey,” he said, blowing that hope all to hell.
His voice was low and husky, sounding just as surprised as
she. With a deep breath, she lurched upright to a seated position
on the bed and reached out for her handy-dandy baseball
bat before remembering she hadn’t brought it with her. Instead,
her hands connected with her glasses and they went flying.
Which might just have been a blessing in disguise, because
now she wouldn’t be able to witness her own death.
But then the tall shadow bent and scooped up her glasses
and . . .
Handed them to her.
A considerate bad guy?
She jammed the frames on her face and focused in the dim
light coming from the living-room lamp. He stood at the foot
of the bed frowning right back at her, hands on his hips.
He didn’t look like an ax murderer, which was good, very
good, but at over six feet of impressive, rangy, solid-looking
muscle, he didn’t exactly look like a harmless tooth fairy either.
“Why are you in my bed?” he asked warily, as if maybe he’d
put her there but couldn’t quite remember.
He had a black duffel bag slung over a shoulder. Light
brown hair stuck out from the edges of his knit ski cap to curl
around his neck. Sharp green eyes were leveled on hers, steady
and calm but irritated as he opened his denim jacket.
If he was an ax murderer, he was quite possibly the most attractive
one she’d ever seen, which didn’t do a thing for her
frustration level. She’d been finally sleeping.
He could have no idea what a welcome miracle that had
“Earth to Goldilocks.” He waved a gloved hand until she
dragged her gaze back up to his face. “Yeah, hi. My bed. Want
to tell me why you’re in it?”
“I’ve been sleeping here for a week.” Granted, she’d had a
hard time of it lately, but she definitely would have noticed
him in bed with her.
“Who told you to sleep here?”
“My boss, Stone Wilder. Well, technically, Annie the chef,
but—” She broke off when he reached toward her, clutching
the comforter to her chin as if the down feathers could protect
her, really wishing for that handy-dandy bat.
But instead of killing her, he hit the switch to the lamp on
the nightstand and more fully illuminated the room as he
dropped his duffel bag.
While Katie tried to slow her heart rate, he pulled off his
jacket and gloves, and tossed them territorially to the chest at
the foot of the bed.
His clothes seemed normal enough. Beneath the jacket he
wore a fleece-lined sweatshirt opened over a long-sleeved
brown Henley, half untucked over faded Levi’s. The jeans
were loose and low on his hips, baggy over unlaced Sorels, the
entire ensemble revealing that he was in prime condition.
“My name is Katie Kramer,” she told him, hoping he’d return
the favor. “Wilder Adventures’s new office temp.” She
paused, but he didn’t even attempt to fill the awkward silence.
“So that leaves you . . .”