The Wild Ones
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Becoming A Vincent - Book 1
When you live in a place where “turbo speed” internet is a slight step above dial-up, men carry on nine-year beard-growing challenges out of stubborn pride, and your brothers do things like nail all your panties to the outside of your cabin just for funsies, you tend to be a little crazy. You can call it a "locational" hazard, if you will.
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That’s Tomahawk for you.
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We rank people based on just how crazy they are. And the four craziest families in town are called the Wild Ones.
I’m on the bottom tier of those, so technically I’m not as crazy as the other Wild Ones. In fact, if it wasn’t for my brothers and their endless antics, I wouldn’t be considered a Wild One at all. Ahem. Sure. We’ll go with that.
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Anyway, I have a best friend who endures it all with me. Benson Nolans is my one, constant favorite person.
Without him, I’d probably go really crazy, and not the fun kind. It’d be ridiculous, after three years of a flawless friendship, to mess that all up by falling for him.
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I mean, even if we did get a little too close one night, it’d be reckless endangerment. Even if we did suddenly feel the chemistry that’s always been there and stop toeing the line, it’d be a foolish risk to take.
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It’d be stupid to start hoping a really fun, but completely irrational, night with zero inhibitions might accidentally happen.
Really stupid…
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Right?
Going Wild - Book 2
Wild Ones Tip #109
We’re the reason the gene pool needs a lifeguard.
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People often ask me what in the hell convinced me to move to Tomahawk, Washington, where the four corners of crazy are known as the Wild Ones. They want to know what possessed me to live next door to the Vincents—the same ones who think it’s acceptable to fish with dynamite if the fish aren’t biting the hooks they so generously attempt to use.
They want to know why I ever thought I’d make it in the woods with bugs, bears, and other things that want to take a bite out of me.
I tell them all the same thing…
It’s a long, crazy story.
And of course, I blame one girl.
Wilder - Book 3
Wild Ones Tip #349
If you don't understand what's going on, it's because you haven't been in Tomahawk long enough.
My sister and I decided to go to Tomahawk to learn more about our estranged grandmother and spend some time together doing something other than networking.
What we expected was some quiet town, a peaceful escape, and a little downtime.
What we got?
Two sexy mountain men...who actually wear a lot of flannel, bring fresh kills on first dates, and gripe about screaming a lot.
Hypothermia, a broke arm, a possible concussion, and more reckless fun than we've ever had.
And a stoner town that prides itself on its weed, crazy challenges, beards, and bizarre character.
Our trip started a little like a horror film...including bad cell signal, spotty internet and womb snatchers. Long story.
Fortunately, it changed pretty quickly.
I actually ended up not spending much time with my sister, but I did spend a lot of time with Kai Wilder. He's the single most unique, easy-going, and...oblivious man I've ever met.
Welcome to Tomahawk. Home of the Wild Ones.