Scorched Hearts by Jade Marshall

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SKU 978-0-3695-1361-8
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Expected release date is 26th Jan 2026
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Kidds Beach Fire Department, 3

He pulled her from the flames. Now he has to convince her she deserves to burn for him.

Olivia Reed rebuilt her life from ashes, new town and a new job, for the woman who refused to die. But when her past returns with smoke on his breath and violence in his eyes, the only man standing between her and the fire is the young firefighter who already saved her once.

Darren Cole lives for split-second choices, run in, carry them out, don’t look back. Until Olivia. Twelve years older, soft where the world told her not to be, fierce where it tried to break her, she’s the only risk he’s never been willing to walk away from.

He fell first and he fell hard.

Training turns into touch. Protection turns into obsession. And when Olivia’s abusive ex comes back to finish what he started, Darren will burn the world down before he lets her be hurt again.

She thinks she’s too broken.

He thinks she’s everything.

And some hearts aren’t ruined by fire, they’re forged in it.

Excerpt:

He moves closer, dragging the chair from the corner to my bedside. He sits, knees spreading naturally, forearms resting on his thighs, leaning in like I’m the only thing he plans to do today.

“You scared me,” he admits.

I blink. “I scared you?”

He nods once. “Walking in and not knowing if you were conscious. If you were breathing.” He swallows, jaw working like he doesn’t talk about this part often. “Sometimes we’re too late. I hate being too late.”

There’s weight in his words, history, something raw and personal coiled under the calm.

“I’m … sorry,” I say softly, because what do you say to the guy who pulled you out of the burning version of your worst nightmare? “For scaring you, I mean. Not for being rescued. I kind of appreciate that part.”

He huffs out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Good. I’d hate to think I carried you out against your will.”

Heat floods my cheeks at the memory, his arms around me, the world burning, his voice right at my ear telling me to hold on. I shift, uncomfortable with how good it felt to be held when everything was falling apart.

“I remember something you said,” he adds, voice dropping. Oh, dear God, please don’t let it be… “‘I’m heavy.’”

Kill. Me. Now. Set me back in the house and let it finish the job.

I groan into my hands. “Can we … can we not?”

“No.” His tone is gentle but unarguable. “We will.”

He waits until I drop my hands again. His gaze is steady, not pitying, not mocking. Just … present.

“You weren’t heavy,” he says quietly. “And if you were, I’d still have carried you.”

My throat tightens, and my eyes sting for reasons that have nothing to do with smoke. “You say that like it’s obvious,” I mutter.

“It is,” he replies.

“It’s not,” I return automatically. “Ask my ex-husband.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, and the room shifts, like I cracked open a door we were both pretending wasn’t there.

His posture changes. He doesn’t step forward. He doesn’t explode. But his attention sharpens, condenses, and becomes a blade I can feel without ever touching. His voice, when it comes, is soft in the way thunderstorms are soft, quiet before they break something.

“He’s the reason you thought that?”

He’s the reason I thought a lot of things. That my body is too much. That my laughter is too loud. That I should be grateful for any scrap of affection thrown my way, even if it comes wrapped in cruelty.

Series:
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