High Density
High Mountain Trackers HMT 2G, #3
by Freya Barker
Release Date: February 17th 2025
Genre: Romantic Suspense

When I get to her place, I dig through the back seat of my truck to find something cleaner to wear than the clothes I have on now. I dig up a sports bag that must’ve been in there for a couple of months, since I haven’t been to the gym in at least that long. But at least it holds a pair of clean socks, a shirt, and some sweats that smell better than the jeans I have on. I didn’t realize how foul I reeked until the beautiful aroma from the pizza was overwhelmed by the smell of cow shit. No way I can eat smelling like this. Using Janey’s bathroom—which is permeated by her scent—is the worst kind of torture. I briefly contemplate polishing one off in the shower, but decide against it. Instead, I turn the faucet to cold for a few minutes before I step out. Janey is on her couch, her feet tucked under her as she’s watching the news on TV. The pizza and iced teas, along with a couple of plates and napkins, are waiting on the coffee table. “Unless you want to sit at the table?” she asks when I walk in. “Not particularly.” I drop down beside her. “You could’ve started without me,” I suggest. “You weren’t that long,” she returns, reaching to flip open the pizza box. My stomach rumbles loudly as she loads three pieces on a plate and hands it to me, before serving herself. I was wrong; sitting next to Janey as she moans through her first tastes of a cheesy bratwurst pizza has to be the worst kind of torture by far.

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High Frequency
HMT 2G, #1
by Freya Barker
Release Date: August 5th 2024
Genre: Romantic Suspense

“What do you need me to do?” I offer. Next thing I know, my arms open automatically when she shoves the baby at me. “Take her.” Ama disappears inside before my brain can come up with an objection. Any baby experience I have began and ended with Carmi, Sully’s daughter, and Fletch’s son, Hunter, and that was twelve or thirteen years ago. It’s not that I don’t like babies, because I do, but the fact this is Sloane’s baby is making it a little awkward. Still, I settle her a little better in the crook of my arm.

Then I hear the creak of the rocking chair and Thomas’s raspy chuckle and look up. The old fart clearly thinks this is funny. “You should see the look on your face,” he points out as he continues to rock his chair. “I’m guessing young Sloane becoming a parent was a surprise to you as well?” “Yes,” I grumble, just as a little hand slaps against my chin and catches on the short hairs of my beard. I drop my eyes to Sloane’s baby, who has her little face turned toward me. I don’t know who the dark hair belongs to, but those blue eyes are unmistakably her mother’s. “Aspen. That’s her name,” Thomas shares. “Pretty little thing, ain’t she?” She is, especially when her little mouth spreads in a wide, toothless smile. “You look good holdin’ that baby,” he continues. “Too bad you let her momma slip away, or that wee one could’a been yours.” Fuck. That stings. Should’ve known the old man wouldn’t hesitate to poke his finger in the sore spot. “I’m not the one who left.” The bitter comment slips out before I can check it. “No, you weren’t. You’re just the one who let her walk.” Agitated, I get to my feet, shifting the baby to my shoulder as I start to pace the porch. “It wasn’t that simple.” “It never is, son. It never is.”