Allie McCleary wouldn't have ever consented to move to Dougherty, Oklahoma, if she'd known Truman had the freedom to use the house, too. And she sure didn't expect Truman James to be the magic she'd been searching for since her husband was killed five years before.
The rest is what happens when you cross a handsome-beyond-words bull rider with a mostly-Irish lass with a temper to match her rich chestnut brown hair and mossy green eyes. It's the story of an old ivy covered elm tree in the corner of the yard, sitting in dormancy like Allie's heart and rooted deep in the rich ranch soil, like Truman's soul.
Will they realize that the real fight lies within their hearts? Although they're as mismatched as oil and water, they have fallen in love. Can either of them admit it?
