Tourists may flock to Rustler Mountain, Oregon for its Wild West reenactments, but for locals, the feuds between the outlaws and the lawmen are still very much alive in this swoon-inducing contemporary western series from New York Times bestselling author Maisey Yates - ideal for fans of Lyla Sage, Elsie Silver, Jennifer Ryan and Robyn Carr.
Good guys and bad guys . . . myth and legend . . . gold and ranching. That's what historic Rustler Mountain, Oregon, is made of, complete with feuding families descended from outlaws and lawmen. A century later, their grudges still hold--but for a new generation, when opposites attract, it might be time to surrender . . . From killers to courtesans, the Hancock family has what might be called an eclectic history. But they've managed to leverage it into something respectable, creating the popular Hancock Wild West Show. The event features reenactments and trick riding--the latter performed by clever, charismatic Jessie Jane Hancock. Jessie is usually unflappable, but lately something's needling her--and it's not just her annoying attraction to exasperatingly sexy Flynn Wilder--whose great, great, great, great, great grandfather was betrayed by Jessie's just-as-many-times-great grandfather. It's the upcoming mayoral election. Specifically, the unopposed candidate: Danielle LeFevre, mean girl, all-around awful person, and Flynn's not-so-beloved half-sister. Jessie wants to keep Danielle from winning . . . and the only person who bothers Flynn more than she does is Danielle. "I want you to be my first man." Jessie Jane is hot enough to make him hallucinate, but her request is very real. Jessie wants to run for mayor, and she wants him by her side, as her fake boyfriend. A Hancock dating a Wilder. An outsider against the status quo. A drama their town will devour. Flynn always knew Jessie was a wild card, but bringing down his corrupt stepfamily is a temptation he can't resist. Just like the vexing spark between him and Jessie. And once that fire catches, the real showdown begins . . .
