On the ground floor, he slammed open the stairwell door. There were two corridors ahead. He turned left for no reason other than that’s the hand he favored. Seemed like he chose wisely because a side entrance gave him a quick exit. He walked out, wincing at the morning sun even as he gulped fresh air, fresh for the Vegas Strip, but a far cry from the Eastern Sierras’s clean mountain breeze. His heart stirred. He’d have some breakfast and hit the road. As much as he liked leaving Brightwater, he always missed home.

Archer reached to adjust his hat and grabbed a handful of wet hair instead. Twelve stories above, a stripping magician had found herself a mighty fine Stetson.

He stepped onto the street, jumping back on the curb when a city bus turned, the side plastered with a shoe ad sporting the slogan, “Can You Run Forever?”

Hell, he’d been running from accountability, stability, and boring routines his whole life.

Another thought crept in and sank its roots deep. Was he really running from those things, or was he letting his fears of commitment and responsibility run him instead?

See where it all started in the first wonderful installment in the Brightwater series,

LAST FIRST KISS

A kiss is just the beginning. . .

PINTEREST PERFECT. OR so Annie Carson’s life appears on her popular blog. Reality is . . . messier. Especially when it lands her back in one-cow town, Brightwater, California, and back in the path of the gorgeous six-foot-four reason she left. Sawyer Kane may fill out those Wranglers, but she won’t be distracted from her task. Annie just needs the summer to spruce up and sell her family’s farm so she and her young son can start a new life in the big city. Simple, easy, perfect.

Sawyer has always regretted letting the first girl he loved slip away. He won’t make the same mistake twice, but can he convince beautiful, wary Annie to trust her heart again when she’s been given every reason not to? And as a single kiss turns to so much more, can Annie give up her idea of perfect for a forever that’s blissfully real?

Available Now from Avon Impulse

About the Author

After studying at the University of Montana-Missoula, LIA RILEY scoured the world armed with only a backpack, overconfidence, and a terrible sense of direction. She counts shooting vodka with a Ukrainian mechanic in Antarctica, sipping yerba mate with gauchos in Chile, and swilling fourex with station hands in Outback Australia among her accomplishments.

A British literature fanatic at heart, Lia considers Mr. Darcy and Edward Rochester as her fictional boyfriends. Her very patient husband doesn’t mind. Much. When not torturing heroes (because c’mon, who doesn’t love a good tortured hero?), Lia herds unruly chickens, camps, beach combs, daydreams about as-of-yet unwritten books, wades through a mile-high TBR pile, and schemes yet another trip. Right now, Icelandic hot springs and Scottish castles sound mighty fine.

She and her family live mostly in Northern California.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

Also by Lia Riley

Right Wrong Guy

Last First Kiss

Give in to your Impulses . . .

Continue reading for excerpts from

our newest Avon Impulse books.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

THE BRIDE WORE RED BOOTS

A SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN COWBOYS NOVEL

By Lizbeth Selvig

RESCUED BY THE RANGER

By Dixie Lee Brown

ONE SCANDALOUS KISS

AN ACCIDENTAL HEIRS NOVEL

By Christy Carlyle

DIRTY TALK

A MECHANICS OF LOVE NOVEL

By Megan Erickson

An Excerpt from

THE BRIDE WORE RED BOOTS

A Seven Brides for Seven Cowboys Novel

by Lizbeth Selvig

Amelia Crockett’s life was going exactly the way she had always planned—until one day, it wasn’t.

When Mia’s career plans are shattered, the always-in-control surgeon has no choice but to head home to Paradise Ranch and her five younger sisters, cowboy boots in tow, to figure out how to get her life back on track. The appearance of a frustrating, but oh-so-sexy, former soldier, however, turns into exactly the kind of distraction she can’t afford.

He studied her as if assessing how blunt he could be. With a wry little lift of his lip, he closed his eyes and lay all the way back onto the blanket, hands behind his head. “Honestly? You were just so much fun to get a rise out of. You’d turn all hot under the collar, like you couldn’t figure out how anyone could dare counter you—the big-city doc coming to Hicksville with the answers.”

The teasing tone of his voice was clear, but the words stung nonetheless. Funny. They wouldn’t have bothered her at all a week ago, she thought. Now it hurt that he would ever think of her that way. She hadn’t been that awful—she’d only wanted to put order to the chaos and bring a little rationality to the haywire emotions after her mother and sister’s awful accident.

“Hey.” She turned at the sound of his voice to find him sitting upright beside her again. “Amelia, I know better now. I know you. I’m not judging you—then or now.”

Pricks of miniscule teardrops stung her eyes, the result of extreme embarrassment—and profound relief. She had no idea what to make of the reaction. It was neither logical nor something she ever remembered experiencing.

“I know.”

To her horror, the roughness of her emotions shone through her voice, and Gabriel peered at her, his face a study in surprise. “Are you crying? Amelia, I’m sorry—I was just giving you grief, I wasn’t—”

“I’m not crying.” Her insistence held no power even though it wasn’t a lie. No water fell from her eyes; it just welled behind the lids. “I’m not upset. I’m . . . relieved. I . . . it was nice, what you . . . said.” She clamped her mouth closed before something truly stupid emerged and looked down at the blanket, picking at a pill in the wool’s plaid pile.

A touch beneath her chin drew her gaze back up. Gabriel’s eyes were mere inches from hers, shining with that beautiful caramel brown that suddenly looked like it could liquefy into pure sweetness and sex. Every masculine pore of his skin caught her attention and made her fingers itch to stroke the texture of his cheek. The scent of wind-blown skin and chocolate tantalized her.

“Don’t be anything but what and who you are, Amelia Crockett.”

His kiss brushed her mouth with the weightlessness of a Monarch on a flower petal. Soft, ethereal, tender, it promised nothing but a taste of pleasure and asked for nothing in return. Yet, as subtle as it was, it drove a punch of desire deep into Mia’s core and then set her stomach fluttering with anticipation.

He pulled back but his fingers remained on her chin. “I’m sorry. That was probably uncalled for.”

When his fingers, too, began to slide from her skin, she reacted without thinking and grabbed his hand. “No. It’s . . . It was . . . Gah—” Frustrated by her constant, unfamiliar loss for words, she leaned forward rather than let mortification set in and pressed a kiss against his lips this time, foregoing light and airy for the chance to taste him fully. Beneath the pressure, his lips curved into a smile. She couldn’t help it then, her mouth mimicked his and they clashed in a gentle tangle of lips, teeth, and soft, surprised chuckles.

“Crazy,” he said in a whisper, as he encircled her shoulders and pulled her closer.

“Yeah,” she agreed and opened her mouth to invite his tongue to meet hers.