They each hit the trail solo in search of themselves…
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About the Book
Wild at Heart
Wild Love Book One
by Stacy Gold
Published 2 May 2022
Onyva Press
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Page Count: 376
Add it to your Goodreads TBR!
They each hit the trail solo in search of themselves…
Overworked entrepreneur Jules Martinez is sick and tired of men leaving her for their exes. Determined to wipe the giant, scarlet Rfor rebound off her forehead, she kicks off a yearlong vow of celibacy with five, blissful weeks backpacking her favorite trails through Washington State. Solo.
Out-of-work financial analyst Evan Davenport hasn’t been happy since camping in Scouts as a kid—before his wealthy parents and now ex-fiancé made all his major life decisions. Hoping to find joy and purpose, he buys all the latest ultralight backpacking gear, flies to Washington, and sets off alone on a weeklong speed hike through the wilderness.
Mother Nature has other plans, though, and keeps shoving Evan and Jules in each other’s paths. Usually naked. When sparks fly, can they find what they’re looking for in life together instead of apart?
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
JULES
“I’m so jealous, Jules.” Bryn perched on the end of one of the beds in our hotel room at Cascade Locks, watching me pack gear. The thin, gray light of pre-dawn filtered through a crack in gold curtains that’d seen better days.
I tucked a bag of snacks and my rain jacket into the top of my backpack, cinched the drawcord, and buckled the lid with a solid click. “Of what, twelve guys dumping me for their exes in a row? I’m sure we could arrange that for you too. If you ever really start dating again.”
“Ha. Funny.” She toed my calf. “You’re taking five weeks off to go backpacking solo. Who cares why?”
Tingles of excitement zoomed around in my chest and I flashed her a grin. “Yeah. Dealing with zero assholes and zero clients for more than a month does sound pretty heavenly, doesn’t it?”
She grinned back. “Like I said, totally jealous. At least of your trip.” Her expression went serious. “I still can’t believe the next guy you date is gonna be unlucky number thirteen, though.”
“Yeah. I’ve thought about that. Probably too much. Definitely enough to jinx the next one for sure. So, I’m swearing off men for at least a year to restart the count.” I hesitated, the excitement buzz fading. “A year is enough time to consider it a clean dating slate, right?”
“Wait. You mean you’re swearing off dating, or swearing off sex too?”
The last eight years had been nothing but suckage on the relationship front. It’d probably take more than a year to fix my shit. But nothing would change if I didn’t change something. “Yes. Both. All of it.”
Bryn eyes widened. “You’re serious.”
“Dead.” Bending, I tugged the rough nylon laces of my left boot. The well-worn leather snugged around my foot. “I’m never gonna figure out anything buried in too much work plus too many bad dates.”
“When did you decide this?”
“Last night.” I shouldered my pack and adjusted the straps until the familiar weight settled on the tops of my hipbones. “What I’ve been doing isn’t working. It’s time to take a big step back and focus on myself for longer than just a few weeks.”
“I guess that’s one way to break the pattern.” Bryn opened the door, and we stepped outside into early morning stillness. “And yes, a year is definitely long enough to clean your dating slate.”
Fog tendrils drifted from the Columbia River across the half-empty parking lot. The air hung thick with moisture and cedar and the sweet mustiness of damp soil. The best smell in the world after too many days breathing city fumes.
“I sure as hell hope so. If not, at least maybe I can figure out what to do about my business. I can’t keep working this much.”
We strolled across the lot side-by-side, the chill air nipping my skin through my nylon hiking pants and shirt, waking me up. The sky glowed marigold behind the inky silhouettes of the mountains.
“You’ll come up with a plan. You always do.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” We crossed the empty highway, walked a few hundred yards, and turned off. Gravel crunched under our soles. “And thanks for driving me down here from Seattle. And picking me up at the other end.”
“Of course. That’s what best friends are for.” She wrapped a hand around my arm and leaned in, hugging one of my few body parts not covered by my backpack. “Though I still wish I was going with you. I could use a break from assholes and clients, too.”
The first golden rays of sunlight slanted through the tree branches, lighting the dirt road ahead. “We’ll have to plan a girlfriends’ trip once I get back.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Her warm hand tightened on my biceps. “Maybe we can convince Aly to come with us for once.”
I snorted. “We’ll get Aly on a backpacking trip when pigs fly. But I’m all for trying.”
A handful of parked cars and a dark brown trailhead kiosk appeared, marking the southern end of the Pacific Crest Trail through Washington. And my starting point. And the start of five weeks of solitary bliss in one of my favorite places in the whole world.
Bryn pulled out her phone. “Hey. Let me grab a shot of you in front of the sign, to commemorate the moment.”
“Okay.” I took a few steps back.
“Say, single life.”
I popped a hip and smiled for the camera. “Single life.”
“Perfect.” She slipped her phone into her pocket. “I love you, girlfriend. Stay safe out there and call me whenever you hit civilization.”
“I will.” My throat tightened. “I love you, too.”
638 words
My eyes snapped open for no apparent reason. I held my breath, listening through the rain drumming my tent.
A man’s voice rang out from feet away, the tone somewhere between exasperated and hopeless. “Seriously?”
Nylon rustled and shifted outside my tent, loud even through the rain.
I exhaled. What kind of dumbass tries to set up a tent in the dark, in this weather?
A branch snapped. “Fucking goddammit!” This time his voice hit a note somewhere between pissed and despondent. Nylon crackled and shushed.
Snuggling in deeper, I covered my head with my bag to block out the noise of my new neighbor. The rain’s tapping lulled me. My eyelids drooped like they had weights attached and—
“Sonofabitch.”
I flipped over and stared up at the night-dark ceiling, listening to continued cursing, crinkling, and crumpling. The guy wasn’t setting up his tent, he was in a full-fledged, mixed martial arts fight with it.
“Fuck. Me.” Scrabbling for my headlamp, I unzipped my tent and aimed the beam across the small clearing. Raindrops formed silver lines, obscuring my view.
My light caught a bit of reflective material. And a bare leg. And what looked like a pile of fabric thrown over a boulder but had to be a rainfly tossed over the asshole who woke me up.
“Um, helloooo. What the fuck are you doing out there?” My breath hung like a ghost in the beam of light.
“Oh, nothing. Just trying to get some shut eye. Except my tent just broke, it’s pouring rain, and I’m soaking wet.”
“And why, exactly are you setting up in the middle of the night in a rainstorm?”
“Because I need somewhere dry to sleep.”
Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have asked.
“Don’t you have rain pants?”
“If I had rain pants, don’t you think I’d be wearing them?” The pile of nylon shifted and settled, and the bare leg disappeared.
“You’re going to go hypothermic dressed like that.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” The rain pounded down. “Are you going to turn off that light, or what? I am trying to get some sleep over here.”
“Sure thing.” I clicked off my headlamp and sat in the dry comfort of my tent, staring out into the dark, wet night.
The chances of my random neighbor getting any shuteye out there were pretty much nil. Ditto the chances of me sleeping through the night with his periodic shifting and cussing.
The chances of him getting hypothermia dressed like that in forty-five-degree rain, on the other hand, were pretty damn high.
I clicked on my headlamp. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“Pretty much.”
Something told me I would regret my next words. But I didn’t want his death on my conscience. “You can’t stay out there all night like that. My tent isn’t big, but I can make room for you. If you want.”
“God, yes. Thank you.” He flung off the rainfly and trotted over. Rainwater splashed under his running shoe-clad feet and clung to his bare shins.
Face obscured by a ratty beard and his hood pulled low over his nose, rando dude dove for the entrance to my tent.
“Hey. Hey. Slow down.” I held up a palm. “Take off that jacket and your muddy-ass shoes and leave ’em in the vestibule. Otherwise, it’s going to be as wet and nasty in here as it is out there.”
“Okay. Okay.” He stomped and shivered, slipped off his rain shell, and sat in the entrance unlacing his shoes with shaking, wrinkled fingers. Water pooled on the tent floor around his ass.
“Shit. You’re soaked. Take off everything before you get all the way in here.”
He glanced over a shoulder, and a pair of deep blue eyes gazed into mine. “You’re not trying to take advantage of me, are you?”
414 Words
JULES
“Are you okay?” Evan’s low voice sounded sensitive. Caring. Worried.
I cringed.
He was a nice guy.
The kind of guy who wanted to make slow, tender love then cuddle all night. I didn’t do all night. Or cuddling. I had hot sex and went on my way. It was better, safer, that way.
All night meant something else. Something I wasn’t ready for. Something I realized I hadn’t been ready for since Justin.
Evan made me feel special and beautiful and like I deserved more than just a fuck. Out here in the middle of nowhere, with shooting stars falling all around, it was intoxicating. He was intoxicating.
I wanted to be the person he thought he saw, at least for a little while. But that didn’t mean it was safe to let this get all emotional. I didn’t deserve anything more than I could give. If we were going to do this, I couldn’t let him into anything other than my body. Not any more than I already had.
“I’m sorry, Jules.” Evan’s fingertips drifted along my cheekbone. “Did I do something wrong?”
I shook my head, hoping he’d stop touching me like that. Hoping he wouldn’t. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything else. We can just lay here and watch the stars fall and it’ll still be the best night of my life.” He stroked my hair gently, and I fought the urge to lean into his hand like a cat desperate for attention.
Shifting and tugging, he moved me off him and tucked me against his side. One hand wrapped tight around my shoulders, the other caressed my face, my neck, my arm. It was sweet. He was sweet. Too sweet. And too romantic. And nice. And sexy.
I pressed my cheek into his chest and squeezed my eyes shut fighting against the rush of memories of other moments too much like this one. His spicy, masculine scent swirled around in my head.
It’s probably better this way. He’s not Justin and he never will be—even if he sticks around longer than tomorrow.
313 Words
Scrabbling for my headlamp, I unzipped my tent and aimed the beam across the small clearing. Raindrops formed silver lines, obscuring my view.
My light caught a bit of reflective material. And a bare leg. And what looked like a pile of fabric thrown over a boulder but had to be a rainfly tossed over the asshole who woke me up.
“Um, helloooo. What the fuck are you doing out there?” My breath hung like a ghost in the beam of light.
“Oh, nothing. Just trying to get some shut eye. Except my tent just broke, it’s pouring rain, and I’m soaking wet.”
“And why, exactly are you setting up in the middle of the night in a rainstorm?”
“Because I need somewhere dry to sleep.”
Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have asked.
“Don’t you have rain pants?”
“If I had rain pants, don’t you think I’d be wearing them?” The pile of nylon shifted and settled, and the bare leg disappeared.
“You’re going to go hypothermic dressed like that.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” The rain pounded down. “Are you going to turn off that light, or what? I am trying to get some sleep over here.”
“Sure thing.” I clicked off my headlamp and sat in the dry comfort of my tent, staring out into the dark, wet night.
The chances of my random neighbor getting any shuteye out there were pretty much nil. Ditto the chances of me sleeping through the night with his periodic shifting and cussing.
The chances of him getting hypothermia dressed like that in forty-five-degree rain, on the other hand, were pretty damn high.
I clicked on my headlamp. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“Pretty much.”
Something told me I would regret my next words. But I didn’t want his death on my conscience. “You can’t stay out there all night like that. My tent isn’t big, but I can make room for you. If you want.”
About the Author
Award-winning adventure romance author Stacy Gold would rather be in the middle of nowhere than almost anywhere else. To that end, she’s run more than 50 rivers in three countries, been heli-dropped into remote ski huts multiple times (and made it into even more under her own steam), worked for the U.S.D.A. Forest Service as a backcountry ranger, river ranger, and naturalist, and spent fourteen years as a commercial river guide and kayak instructor. Her last “real job” was serving as Communications Director for a state-wide mountain biking non-profit.
When she’s not busy kayaking, skiing, mountain biking, or hiking, with her husband and happy dogs, Ms. Gold writes about independent, badass women finding love and adventure in the great outdoors. Her latest release, Wild at Heart, came out May 2nd, 2022.
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Giveaway Alert1
Blitz-wide giveaway
Signed copy of Wild at Heart + Stacy’s Emerald Mountain ebook novella boxed set (US only)
Stacy’s Emerald Mountain ebook novella boxed set + $10 Amazon gift card (INT)
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