Loner Boone Hendrix left the military with ghosts that haunt him. He lives with his dog Atlas on a farm in Vermont. Alone. Just the way he likes it. Until he rescues a half-drowned, beautiful brunette from his river. Gemma Newhouse is the daughter of the richest man in America, and from the abrasions on her wrists and her drugged state, she’s on the run from someone dangerous. She’s nothing like Boone expected—sweet, smart, and likes baking—and she ignites a fierce need inside him.

I cannot believe my bad luck when an embossed envelope arrives at my door just one week before my twenty-fifth birthday. Which just happens to be the cut-off date for being called up for the testing of the blood. I thought I was in the clear, turns out that I was wrong. I don’t know all the ins and outs of the whole dragon tribute selection process, only that it has something to do with a person’s DNA.

I'm determined to turn Quirky Kingdom into the showpiece it used to be. Problem is—more than just the rides need fixing. It's way more than I can handle on my own. I tap my new neighbor to help—Rexin, a hunky orc handyman who's also a single dad extraordinaire. Since it's summer, he brings his twelve-year-old son to the job with him.

As the first humans allowed in Suevan space, there’s a lot riding on my all-woman team. Earth desperately needs their tech, and I’m determined to prove we can negotiate the price. Without their planetary defense systems, Earth is a sitting duck, ripe for invasion. Except the Suevan culture is nothing like ours. When I take part in what I think is a welcoming ceremony, I leave with more than I bargained for: a husband. A mate. Apparently, we’re there to marry them as payment—something the top brass on Earth doesn’t bother denying. Fantastic.

I signed up for a research mission with five other women. Instead, we crashed on an alien planet with too many dangers to count. Separated from the other women, I’m on my own until a huge alien with color-changing skin and a massive sword gets me out of a bad spot. I don’t understand Savair’s language, but I think he’s under the impression that I’m his. I am NOT his. I’m a 34-year old divorced scientist with no time for such nonsense. But if he can help me find the others in my group then perhaps I can play at being “his” for a while.