He arrived to fix her script. She didn't ask him to fix anything else.
There's a particular kind of cold that has nothing to do with the mountain outside the window. Julian doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. He watches. He calculates. He holds himself the way a man holds a hand of cards he intends to win with, close, careful, giving nothing away.
Maya isn't the type to be studied. She's spent her career being underestimated by men exactly like him, and she's not about to hand him the satisfaction of getting under her skin. Except he already has. That's the problem with a cabin, a fireplace, and a snowstorm that has no interest in letting up. Proximity does what arguments can't.
The Alpine Pitch isn't a slow burn because nothing happens. It's a slow burn because everything happens beneath the surface first, in the space between what Julian says and what he means, in the half second before Maya decides whether to look away or hold his gaze.
If you're the kind of reader who wants the summer heat to break for an hour, who wants snow on the glass and tension in the room, this one's for you. Enemies to lovers, one cabin, zero truce, until there isn't a choice left but to call it something else.
The Alpine Pitch releases August 11. ARC copies are open now through Pen Pinery for readers who want in before launch.
