Wrench & Whiskers

Here's the thing about my brain: it can rebuild a transmission blindfolded but can't make me open my mail.

The bank says I have thirty days. My ex-husband's lawyer says I have fewer. My shop - the one my dad built, the one I've held together with stubbornness and WD-40 and the specific kind of denial that looks like productivity - is slipping through my fingers.

Then a bear shifter salvage foreman offers me a contract.

Rory Calder is the quietest man I've ever met. He communicates in sandwiches and single syllables. He stands in doorways like he's deciding whether he's allowed to come in. And his salvage yard is held together with duct tape and denial - which, honestly, I recognize, because so am I.

I was supposed to fix his systems. Not fall for the man behind them.

But the yard has a locked bay. The books have a shadow budget. And the man who hired me is carrying something so heavy it's breaking him - and he won't let anyone help.

Until now.

A slow-burn monster romance with grumpy/sunshine energy, a heroine with ADHD, and a love story built on acts of service. Book one in the Hollow Ridge Salvage series.