An upcoming book to be published by Penguin Random House.

Autorentext

Lyla Sage lives in the Wild West with her loyal companion, a sweet, old, blind rescue pitbull. She writes romance that feels like her favorite things: sunshine and big blue skies. She is the author of Done and Dusted, Swift and Saddled, Lost and Lassoed, Wild and Wrangled, and Soul Searching. When she’s not writing, she’s reading.

Klappentext

A special deluxe edition of the first book in the #1 New York Times bestselling Rebel Blue Ranch series—the sizzling, small-town brother’s best friend romance that went viral on TikTok—now featuring:

• a bonus scene and letter from Lyla
• show-stopping endpapers
• reversible jacket with an original illustration
• lavish printed case
**• stenciled edges with a beloved quote from the book

“The Rebel Blue Ranch series is a must read.”—#1 New York Times bestselling author Tessa Bailey**

She’s off-limits, but he’s never been good at following the rules.
**
**For the first time in her life, Clementine “Emmy” Ryder has no idea what she’s doing. She’s accomplished everything on her to-do list. She left her small hometown of Meadowlark, Wyoming; went to college; and made a career for herself by doing her favorite thing: riding horses. But after an accident makes it impossible for her to get back into the saddle, she has no choice but to return to the hometown she always wanted to escape.

Luke Brooks is Meadowlark’s most notorious bad boy, bar owner, and bachelor. He’s also the unofficial fifth member of the Ryder family. As Emmy’s older brother’s best friend, Luke spent most of his childhood antagonizing her. It’s been years since he’s seen her, but when she walks into his bar and back into his life, he can’t take his eyes off her. Despite his better judgment, he wants to do a whole lot more than just look at her.

Emmy’s got too much on her mind to think about romance. And Luke knows he should stay away from his best friend’s younger sister. But what if Luke is just what Emmy needs to get her spark back? Or will they both go up in flames?

Leseprobe
EMMY

“Clementine Ryder, I swear to god, if you’re going to mope all night, I’m taking you back home,” Teddy said.

“I’m not moping!” I protested, even though I was definitely moping. Being home had that effect on me. So did Teddy’s usage of my full name. Seriously, who named their only daughter after a fruit?

When it came to a night out, Teddy meant business, and when Teddy meant business, there was no arguing with her. Usually, I didn’t mind. Teddy was my best friend. She knew me better than I knew myself and knew what I needed before I even did. When I made the decision this morning to pack up my apartment, break up with my boyfriend using a Post-it note on the fridge, and leave the barrel racing circuit, I drove 300 miles straight to her house in our small hometown.

I hadn’t even unpacked my truck yet—it was sitting in Teddy’s driveway.

I recognized the dirt road Teddy was driving us down and immediately wished I was back with my truck.

“The Devil’s Boot? Really?” I asked. I knew we didn’t have a lot of options in Meadowlark, but The Devil’s Boot was one place I would like to avoid. The chances that I knew every single one of its current occupants was dangerously high.

My dad and brothers didn’t know I was home yet, and I needed them to stay out of the loop for a little bit longer.

“Yes, The Devil’s Boot. It’s fun and mindless,” she explained. “And you need fun and mindless, Emmy.” Honestly, I probably did need that, but Teddy’s definition of fun had historically been a little different than mine.

“You know what’s fun?” I asked. “Wine and—” Teddy interrupted me and finished my sentence. “Wine and Sweet Home Alabama is fun. You’re right,” she said. “But, Emmy. You’ve been sitting in your apartment in Denver doing wine and Sweet Home Alabama for a month. Literally, every time I FaceTimed you, I could hear Patrick Dempsey getting dumped at the altar, and then I could see his teary blue eyes in my mind—there’s only so much of that I can take.”

“That’s the best scene in the whole movie,” I argued. “It breaks your heart and puts it back together.”

Teddy placed her hand over her heart. “I am not undermining the merits of Sweet Home Alabama,” she said. “I would never. I’m just saying, there’s a reason you came home instead of watching it for a thirty-second time.”

Damn. I hated it when she had a point. “Fine,” I conceded. “But you’re getting every round.”

Teddy laughed. “You’re thinking too small. Why should I pay for your drinks—or my own—when I know there are at least a dozen men in The Devil’s Boot who would love to buy them for us?”

“You’re overestimating my powers of male persuasion,” I said.

“And you’re underestimating mine,” Teddy said with a wink. “Plus,” she added, “you’re Clementine Ryder, champion barrel racer and member of Meadowlark’s most beloved family. People will probably be fighting over who gets to buy you, and me by association, a drink.”

I huffed in annoyance.

Teddy gave me one of her winning smiles. “Between college and racing, you’ve been gone almost a decade, and when you do come back, you only see your family and me,” she continued. “You went from Meadowlark’s sweetheart to Meadowlark’s mystery. People will be happy to see you.”

Teddy’s truck rolled to a stop. I looked out the passenger side window at the familiar dirt parking lot. It was full. Of course it was—it was a Friday night in Meadowlark, Wyoming.

Why couldn’t the episode that led me to pack up my life in Denver and hightail it back home have waited until Monday?

The Devil’s Boot was one of Wyoming’s oldest bars, and it sat almost directly on the Meadowlark county line. It was far enough out of the way that its occupants were almost always exclusively local. From the outside, it didn’t look like much. Hell, it didn’t look like much on the inside, either. It was an old wood building built in a classic saloon style. There were patches of faded paint, an excess of neon signs, and a piece of plywood that hung above the front door that had a spray-painted cowboy boot with a devil’s trident inside it. It didn’t actually say “Devil’s Boot” anywhere in the place—not on the door, not on the pint glasses, not on anything. It was always just the lonely boot and the trident.

Even though we were still in the truck, I could hear the band. They were playing a Hank Williams cover. It was only nine o’clock, so the country classics would continue until the crowd demanded some newer hits they could dance and sing to. I had my fingers crossed Teddy and I would be out of here by then.

But I wasn’t holding my breath.

“Hey.” Teddy’s voice was soft from the driver’s side. “If you really don’t want to be here, then we can go, but I can’t think of anything I would rather do than spend my best friend’s first night home at a place we both secretly love.” I did love this place, albeit begrudgingly. “We always have a good time here. It’s low risk…