A woman moves across the country looking for a fresh start, and rents a cabin in the middle of nowhere, only to discover she’s now living next to an extremist cult. Thankfully, the gorgeous mountain man with whom she just had a one night stand happens to be a former Navy SEAL and he’s decided that his next mission is to keep her safe… Kristen Ashley is taking us back to Misted Pines, the famously infamous small town in northeast Washington State, with a brand new mystery romance, and I have an awesome little sneak peek for you.
Excerpt
I looked down beside my laptop and saw the paper Harry Moran gave me lying on my desk.
I picked it up, then picked up my phone.
I dialed the number and put it to my ear.
It rang so long, I thought it’d go to voicemail, before I heard a deep voice grunt, “Hutchison.”
“Hutch Hutchison?” I asked.
“Did you not hear me?” he shot back.
His response made me shoot straight in my chair.
“Hello?” he prompted when I said nothing.
“Are you the guard dog breeder?”
“Yup.”
“Harry Moran gave me your number,” I told him.
“Got no dogs available now.”
Yeesh, this guy was unfriendly.
But there was something I couldn’t put my finger on about his voice, outside of it communicating I was bothering him, which wasn’t very nice.
“Right, but you train dogs,” I said.
“Yup.”
“I’m considering rescuing a dog—”
“Go to the shelter.”
“I know, but—”
“Pick one. Spend time with it while you’re there. Make sure you bond. With a dog, you’ll know. They don’t hold secrets. Get the breed or mix of breeds the shelter thinks they are, go home and look them up. Dive deep. Each dog is its own dog, but each breed will have its own characteristics. Know what you’re getting before you get it so you don’t turn around and surrender it in a week.”
“I would never surrender a dog,” I snapped.
This time, he was silent.
“And thank you for that advice,” I kept snapping, making it clear I didn’t need it because I would have done that anyway. “Why I’m calling is, first, to see if you had any dogs ready for homing. But since you answered that already, then I’d like to understand if you can fit me in your schedule for training. I need a dog that has some capacity to provide protection.”
“All dogs have a capacity to provide protection. I’ve seen chihuahuas fuck a man up.”
And boy, someone didn’t worry too much about sprinkling their language with profanities while talking to a stranger.
Seriously.
Who was this guy?
“All right, more than its normal capacity, and one I can control,” I amended.
“You got time to wait for a dog, I got a litter of Cane Corsos coming in a few weeks. They’re loyal, friendly, family-oriented dogs. Social. And don’t need a ton of exercise, though all dogs need regular exercise. A fully trained guard dog costs fifteen thousand dollars. Since that includes identifying threats and obeying specific commands, that’ll take six months. You want more, training can last up to a year, and the cost will increase by what you’re looking for.”
Fifteen thousand dollars?!
“If you want just training,” he continued, “I’m one hundred and fifty an hour.”
One hundred and fifty an hour!?
He wasn’t done.
“And I don’t do basic shit, unless I got them from pups, like ‘sit,’ ‘down,’ ‘stay.’ I do specialized protection training. You could get away with me working an hour with them a week, if you sign a contract that you’ll continue daily training for at least an hour a day in between. You don’t do that, I’m out. But I recommend three times a week with me. And depending on the level you want to achieve, that will last minimum, two months, more like four to six. Though, all that depends on the dog and its ability to be trained.”
I did the mathematic gymnastics and found that was almost as much as paying for a fully trained dog.
“I have to get a dog first,” I pointed out.
“Right. What’s your name so I’ll remember when you call back?”
I nearly rolled my eyes.
He couldn’t remember this conversation?
I wasn’t going to get into it.
“Mabel,” I said.
After I said my name, there was so much silence coming from the other end of the line, I feared it’d suck me into its black vortex, and I’d be lost forever.
Eventually, he said so quietly I almost didn’t make out the words. “Say again?”
“Mabel. My name is Mabel.”
Copyright © 2026 by Kristen Ashley.
Find it on Goodreads:
Connect with the Author:
Misted Pines - Recommended Reading Order
(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
You Might Also Like...
