Fresh Blood: A Forbidden Love Firefighter Romance

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/fresh-blood
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FMS72VJQ
Amazon Paperback Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G3XVQQFJ
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/241779578-fresh-blood
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/fresh-blood-a-forbidden-firefighter-romance-burning-hearts-book-4-by-ella-braeme

Blurb

When a small-town firefighter falls for the arsonist’s ex-wife, love becomes the most dangerous risk of all.

Fire Chief Calvin “Murph” Murphy came to Elken Grove, Georgia to rebuild his life—not to fall for the notorious arsonist’s ex-wife. But innkeeper Moira Henley is being systematically destroyed by escalating attacks, forged permits, and a town convinced she was in on her husband’s crimes.

Moira thought divorcing her criminal husband was the end of her troubles. Now someone’s targeting her bed and breakfast with anonymous threats, fake online reviews, and suspicious fires. In a close-knit community where gossip spreads faster than wildfire, she’s fighting to save both her business and her reputation—all while keeping everyone at arm’s length to avoid their pity.

When Murph discovers the guarded divorcee is in real danger, everything protective in him refuses to walk away. But their forbidden attraction threatens his hard-won position as fire chief, while Moira risks losing everything she’s worked to rebuild—including the walls she’s built around her heart.

In a town where everyone knows your secrets and second chances are earned through fire, can their love survive the flames—or will it destroy them both?

One-click now to discover if love can conquer the past in this steamy small-town firefighter romance!

♥ firefighter romance ♥ forbidden love ♥ small town ♥ protective hero ♥ contemporary ♥ first responder ♥

Read now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FRN2LXBP

Early Review Quotes

★★★★★ “Can’t wait for the next book.” – Goodreads review

★★★★★ “Today you need to read this 5/5 star romance book by Ella. So, curl up with a cup of something hot to drink, this amazing book and your favorite blanket.” – Goodreads review

Chapter 1: On Top of the World

This will be the happiest day of my life.

Moira Henley smoothed her work-roughened fingers over the worn wooden banister one more time, savoring every detail of the main floor. The scrubbing, sanding, and endless cleaning had left her hands chapped and her nails ragged, but now that the restoration was finally complete, she could focus on taking better care of herself. Maybe treat herself to a nail spa before the B&B opens?

She ran her hand along Goldberry’s back. Her silvery kitten had positioned herself on the windowsill like an ancient sphinx surveying her domain—amber ears forward, tail perfectly still, embodying centuries of feline dignity. She didn’t grace her touch with acknowledgment but for a quick flick of her tail. Then, without warning, she exploded into motion, launching herself across the room in pursuit of some imaginary dust mote. There were no dust motes dancing in the afternoon light, of that Moira was sure, but who’s to argue with a kitten’s prey drive?

She smiled as she looked around. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, highlighting the careful restoration work she’d poured her heart into—original hardwood floors buffed to a warm honey glow, exposed beams she’d painstakingly stripped and sealed, the stone fireplace she’d rebuilt herself after finding the original blueprints in her grandmother’s trunk.

Every corner of Henley House Bed & Breakfast whispered stories of the past while embracing modern comfort. Handmade quilts draped over Mission-style furniture, pottery filled with fresh wildflowers, and the scent of lavender and lemon oil that spoke of genuine care rather than harsh chemicals. This was her vision—not some sterile hotel, but a place where guests could feel the mountain’s embrace and her family’s history.

The short stack of permits sat on the dining room table like golden tickets. Fire safety permit, building permit, business license—all properly filed and approved. Finally, finally, everything was ready.

Moira checked the kitchen clock for the third time in ten minutes. Captain Schwartz from the Elken Grove Fire Department was supposed to have arrived fifteen minutes ago for the final safety inspection. After that, she could officially open. She’d already had three bookings for next month, word spreading quietly through the kind of travelers who preferred hidden gems to chain hotels.

Should she offer refreshments? Moira glanced at the plate of snickerdoodles cooling on the counter and thought of the pitcher of unsweet tea she’d prepared earlier. She’d seen Captain Schwartz buy unsweet tea at Caffeine Drip last week—seemed like the practical choice for someone in her line of work. But would offering anything seem like bribery? The last thing she needed was more questions about her character.

Stop overthinking everything.

The afternoon heat pressed against the windows like a living thing. In Georgia, even in the mountains, summer afternoons could be stifling, and offering a cold drink to someone in full uniform was just human decency. Moira quickly arranged the cookies on her grandmother’s Blue Willow plate and filled a glass with ice.

Twenty more minutes passed before the crunch of tires on gravel had her doing a last-minute check—permits organized, cookies arranged, tea pitcher ready. This is it. She smoothed her cotton sundress and walked to the front door, watching an Elken Grove Fire Department SUV park in the shade of the old oak tree.

But it wasn’t Captain Schwartz who unfolded from the driver’s seat.

Moira’s breath caught. The man emerging from the vehicle was tall—really tall—with the kind of broad shoulders that filled out his uniform like he’d been born to wear it. His dark hair was cut short and neat, and when he looked up at the house, she noticed the lines bracketing his mouth and the fine creases etched into his weathered features. Dark sweat stains marked the fabric under his arms, and perspiration glistened on his clean-shaven face despite the vehicle’s air conditioning.

There was something in his movements—a bone-deep exhaustion that spoke of recent physical exertion. As he walked toward the porch, she noticed a slight asymmetry in his gait. He moved like someone who’d been fighting something and won, but at a cost.

The poor man looks like he’s been through hell. The thought came unbidden, along with protective instincts she’d forgotten she possessed. She found herself wanting to fuss over him—make sure he was hydrated, insist he rest in the shade, maybe even force-feed him one of those snickerdoodles. When had she become someone who wanted to take care of people again? Marriage to Clay had trained her out of such impulses, taught her that caring was seen as weakness, that offering comfort would only be rejected or, worse, used against her later.

Get a grip, Moira. She had no business feeling protective of a stranger, especially one this… well, handsome, if she was being honest. She’d spent two years rebuilding her life, proving she didn’t need anyone—especially not a man—to make her dreams come true. She was perfectly capable of running this B&B alone, of being successful, independent, and whole all by herself.

But as he walked toward her with careful, measured movements, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pushing through exhaustion to be here. For her. For this inspection that would determine her future.

There was something about his approach that felt genuine. No aggressive confidence, no assumption that his presence was welcome. He moved like someone who understood boundaries, and after years of struggling to read people’s intentions, she found herself astonishingly trusting that initial impression.

He smiled easily as their eyes met. “Ma’am.”

He climbed the porch steps with an easy stride, and Moira found herself looking up—really looking up—at his impressive height. There was something appealing about a man who could make her feel petite—a sensation she wasn’t used to at her height.

“Mrs. Bowen?” he asked when he reached the top. “Sorry I’m late—had an electric car catch fire in someone’s garage this morning. Took us six hours to make sure it wasn’t going to reignite and take the house with it.”

That explained the exhaustion, though he’d clearly taken time to shower and clean up before coming—she caught the fresh scent of soap even from where she stood. He’d been fighting an actual fire, protecting people’s homes and lives.

“Henley,” she corrected automatically, then flushed. “Sorry, it says Bowen on my paperwork. I took back my maiden name after the divorce.”

His eyebrows drew together for just a moment before smoothing out again—not judgment, just a quick adjustment. No questions about why she’d divorced, no subtle probing for gossip. He simply accepted her correction and moved on.

“No problem. I’m Calvin Murphy, the new fire chief. I know you’ve scheduled this meeting with Captain Schwartz, but I hope you’re okay with me doing the safety inspections. Thought I’d use my first week to get out and meet folks in the community rather than stay chained to a desk.”

“Please, come in, Chief.” Moira stepped aside, gesturing toward the cool interior. “I have iced tea if you’d like some. You look like you could use it after fighting a fire.”

His face lit up with genuine gratitude. “That sounds perfect, thank you. And please, call me Murph. Most folks do.”

Moira found herself smiling—really smiling—for the first time in months. Of course, he might not know about her situation yet. That would explain why he was being so nice. Usually, people in town were either carefully reserved around her, some openly unkind, while others made an effort to be extra nice out of pity. She could never tell which was which—the forced brightness, the careful word choices, the way conversations stopped when she entered Caffeine Drip—or whether someone actually was nice.

This felt different. Natural. Like he was just being himself.

“Murph, it is. I’m Moira.”

She led him to the dining room, then excused herself to retrieve the pitcher of tea from the kitchen. Once out of sight, she found herself chuckling softly. Really, Moira? Instant attraction to a complete stranger? Was he actually that good-looking, or was she just that starved for decent male company?

When she returned with the glasses and caught sight of him examining the restored wainscoting with genuine appreciation, the answer was immediate and undeniable.

Yes. He was absolutely that good-looking.

“This is beautiful,” he said, running a hand along the woodwork with the reverence of someone who understood craftsmanship. “Original to the house?”

“Most of it, yes. My great-grandparents built this place in 1892.” Pride warmed her voice as she poured his tea. “I’ve been working to bring it back to its original character while updating all the safety and comfort features.”

Murph accepted the glass and took a long drink, closing his eyes briefly in appreciation. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.” He took another sip, then nodded toward the permits. “Mind if we get the paperwork out of the way first? I’d like to review your permits before we begin, if you don’t mind. I want to make sure everything lines up properly, and then I can do a proper walkthrough and see all this beautiful work up close.”

“Of course.” Moira settled across from him, trying to ignore how the afternoon light caught the warmth in his dark eyes, the way his hands—strong, capable hands—handled the documents with care. “Everything should be in order. I found these permits among some papers after… after everything happened. They were meant to be backup plans, I think. Plans I was never told about.”

A shadow crossed her face. The paperwork was just another reminder of how thoroughly she’d been deceived.

Murph’s brow furrowed as he studied the documents, and Moira felt her stomach begin to tighten. He was being thorough—flipping through each page, checking dates and signatures. Thoroughness was a good quality in a fire chief, but nerve-wracking when your entire future hung in the balance.

“These permits…” He looked up, his brow furrowing. “Moira, these specifications are pretty vague. I’m going to need to familiarize myself with how permits are typically handled here in Elken Grove.”

Suddenly she felt cold and wrapped her arms around herself. “Vague? But they’re all properly filed. The dates, the signatures, everything’s legitimate.”

“I’m sure they are.” His voice was kind but firm, and something about his tone—respectful rather than condescending—kept her panic from spiraling completely out of control. “It’s just that the level of detail here is… minimal. I need to understand the local standards and protocols before I can sign off on anything. I don’t want to make any mistakes in my first week.”

He started gathering the permits into a neat stack, his movements careful and deliberate. “I’ll need to take these with me to review properly. Do you have copies?”

Moira’s grip tightened on the papers instinctively. “I… no, these are the only copies I have.”

“No problem. I have a scanner back at the station. I’ll make copies and get the originals back to you tomorrow.” He paused, considering. “Unless you have a way to copy them here?”

“Actually, yes.” Moira stood quickly, grateful for something to do with her nervous energy. “I have a small office setup with a printer. Let me make copies right now.”

She led him to the small office she’d set up in what used to be a storage closet, acutely aware of how his presence filled the cramped space. But he didn’t crowd her, didn’t lean over her shoulder or try to direct her movements—he simply waited respectfully while she worked.

“This is quite a setup,” Murph said, glancing around at her organized desk, the carefully labeled files, the booking schedule whiteboard with its neat monthly grid and colorful magnetic markers. “You’ve really thought this through.”

“I had to.” The words came out more bitter than she intended. “After everything that happened, I couldn’t afford to leave anything to chance.”

Murph accepted the originals when the copying was done, his expression thoughtful. Something in his face suggested he understood more about her situation than she’d expected, but he didn’t pry.

“I’ll get back to you within a few days,” he said, and the promise felt solid rather than dismissive. “And Moira? Thank you for the hospitality. This place really is something special.”

She walked him to the door on unsteady legs, managing to smile and nod as he promised to be in touch soon. The SUV’s engine started, gravel crunched, and then he was gone, leaving only the faint scent of smoke and something that might have been hope.

He hadn’t even gotten beyond the dining room, hadn’t seen the careful safety upgrades she’d installed throughout the rest of the house, the new smoke detectors and sprinkler system, the upgraded electrical work. All he’d focused on was the paperwork.

Moira sank into the nearest chair, staring at the copies that felt somehow less substantial than the originals had. What could possibly be wrong with them? What had her ex-husband done now?

Goldberry appeared at her side, headbutting her leg with insistent purrs and winding around her ankles. She reached down absently, her fingers finding the familiar comfort of her soft silver fur as she pushed against her palm, demanding the attention she was due. The rhythmic stroking was automatic, soothing, even as her mind raced.

She’d never been through a permit approval process before—that had been handled by someone else, someone she’d trusted completely. Now she was on her own, and apparently even doing everything right wasn’t enough.

But for the first time in months, she didn’t feel completely alone. Something about Murph’s steady presence, his respectful professionalism, the way he’d promised to help rather than simply find fault—it felt different. Safer.

“I’ll get back to you within a few days,” he’d said, and the promise felt solid. Real.

Maybe her judgment wasn’t completely broken after all. Maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found someone she could trust to help her succeed instead of sabotage her dreams.

Moira smoothed the permit copies carefully. Whatever was wrong with the paperwork, Murph would figure it out. And then she could finally, officially, open the doors of Henley House Bed & Breakfast.

This would still make the happiest day of her life. It might just take a few more days to get there.

To read on, get you copy now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FRN2LXBP

Why a Non-Holiday Romance in December? Because Balance is Everything!

You might be wondering—why release a non-Christmas romance in December? Simple: because sometimes readers crave a steamy firefighter romance that has nothing to do with mistletoe and everything to do with forbidden attraction! While I absolutely love the holidays (trust me, I’ve got Christmas Newbie in the Burning Hearts series, Star-Crossed Christmas and a Happy New Year as a standalone, AND the annual Holly and Heartstrings free Christmas anthology to prove it), I didn’t want to overwhelm the series with back-to-back holiday themes.

Fresh Blood gives readers a refreshing alternative to the sea of Christmas romances flooding December releases. Sometimes you want to curl up with a book that focuses purely on the heat between a new fire chief and a woman fighting to save her family’s legacy—no snow, no Santa, no holiday drama required. There’s something deliciously rebellious about reading a forbidden romance while everyone else is deck-the-halls-ing around you.

Besides, having one Christmas romance in the series (Christmas Newbie) feels just right. Two would have been Christmas overkill, even for someone who genuinely adores the holidays and runs her own annual Christmas anthology. Fresh Blood proves that December can be the perfect time for any kind of romance—especially when it involves a protective alpha hero, small-town secrets, and the kind of chemistry that could melt snow faster than a Georgia heat wave.