I came back to the farm looking for answers about my future. What I found was Ryder Flynn, a rugged farm hand with calloused hands and eyes that saw right through me.

Our first meeting left me breathless and furious, sprawled in the dirt at a barn dance. The second time, he put his hand on my backside as punishment for not following orders, and I felt that touch everywhere. Now we're working side by side in the summer heat, our arguments sharp as barbed wire, our attraction impossible to ignore.

He's older, experienced, and completely off-limits. I'm eighteen, restless, and playing with fire. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every whispered conversation in the dark pulls us closer to a line we shouldn't cross.

The farm demands hard work and discipline. Ryder delivers both with a firm hand.