
The Story:
Jade came to the snow-covered lodge to escape deadlines and distractions. With her laptop in her lap and a glass of wine beside her, she hoped for quiet. No fans, no expectations. Just her, her thoughts, and the mountains.
But on the second night, she met him.
Damon Cross, hired to guide winter excursions, walked into the lounge like he belonged in a fantasy novel. Snow still clung to his jacket. His jaw was dusted with stubble, and when his eyes met hers across the firelit room, her breath caught.
She didn't believe in love at first sight. But lust at first smirk? Absolutely.
“You’re the writer,” he said that night, his voice deep as midnight. “The one hiding in room 12.”
“You’re the local gossip?” she quipped, lips curving.
“No,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’m the distraction you didn’t plan for.”
The chemistry between them ignited like dry timber.
Days turned into nights, tension building.
One snowy afternoon, during a private snowshoe hike he offered to lead, they ended up stranded in a remote cabin after a sudden storm. The fire roared. So did their desires.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispered, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “And I’ll stop.”
She met his gaze, heart racing. “I don’t lie in my stories. I won’t lie to you.”
Their kiss was fierce, fueled by weeks of longing. She tugged his shirt off, running her hands over the scars that spoke of a life lived dangerously. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, unzipping her coat slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping a secret he intended to keep.
Their clothes fell to the cabin floor, replaced by whispered names, gasps, and promises neither of them meant to make—but couldn’t help.
That night, under a mountain moon, they didn’t sleep. They memorized each other’s bodies like they were writing a new chapter with every touch.
But every romance has its conflict.
Jade’s publisher demanded her return. Damon’s heart bore walls built long before her. Could their fire survive reality?

