Little Bandit Press
September 19, 2025

Maverick

Maverick Quinn has never played the hero. After losing everything that once mattered, he’s content to be the bad guy—gruff, guarded, and always in control. But when Stella Lane bets herself in a reckless poker game, Maverick can't walk away. He wins her—and then leaves her untouched. It’s not about honor. It’s about the one line he refuses to cross… again.

Stella’s a rising star in the barrel racing world—fiery, stubborn, and unafraid to go after what she wants. She doesn’t understand Maverick, but something about him pulls her in. So when he offers her a job training a troubled horse with Olympic potential, she agrees—she left that life behind after a fight with her parents and the chance to try again is tempting. But so is he.

Working side by side on Maverick’s isolated ranch, the chemistry between them ignites into something fierce and undeniable. But Maverick’s past is a wound he won’t let heal. And when the truth comes out, Stella must decide if her heart can handle a man who doesn’t believe he deserves to be loved.

A deeply emotional opposites-attract romance with a wounded cowboy, a brave heroine, and a love story that just might heal them both.

Also In this Series:

Dallas

July 18, 2025
Colt

August 20, 2025
Colt Special Edition

August 20, 2025
Maverick Special Edition

September 19, 2025

Excerpt

Maverick

I’m the bad guy. Every sports story needs a villain, and I’m happy to fill the role. I’ve never cared if anyone liked me. I only care about winning.

I’m not here to make friends.

I only have one goal. I’m going to achieve it. I’m the kind of guy who does what he sets his mind to. No arguments. No excuses. And I just finished a hell of a ride.

I’ve been competing on the circuit for too long. My career was derailed for a couple of years, and when I came back at thirty-two, most people thought I was washed. But I was never going to let myself be washed. Hell no. I was always going to make some noise and make everyone contend with me. It’s who I am.

Now I’m thirty-five, though, and in all honesty, I feel each and every ride in my vertebrae a lot more profoundly than I’d like.

Aging is a bitch, but it’s also a privilege.

One that I don’t take for granted.

I jump down off the bull, heart pounding, adrenaline high. This is the only place I get my adrenaline these days. Sex is a thing of the past, drugs were always a no for me, and alcohol is something I won’t even touch anymore. Turns out, I can’t be functional and indulge in substances. Should’ve figured that based on genetics. You live and learn.

But hell, at least I’m still living.

And there’s nothing that says I can’t imbibe a little rock ‘n’ roll. My walk-off song is AC/DC, and I’d say that it fits the vibe. I turn away from the crowd while they cheer, because they love that shit.

Like I said. I’m the villain. Every story needs one.

Just like those same stories need heroes.

Couldn’t be me.

The heroes on the circuit are Dallas Dodge and Colt Campbell, unequivocally. Dallas retired last year after winning the championship, which annoys the hell out of me.

I wanted to beat him.

The thing about bull riding is that it’s a game of chance. Yet, there’s skill involved, and I have skill, but if you get a bull that doesn’t want to play, there’s not a hell of a lot you can do about it. I’ve had some lame rides during the championship that really pushed my scores down, and even though I didn’t get bucked off, it wasn’t enough to win.

Tonight, though, my animal came to play, and I’m grateful for that, because I want to take the top spot every night, even though all that really matters right now is accruing points to get into the championship.

The better you ride in the beginning part of the season, the higher odds you have of securing your spot early and being able to dip out. It’s not that I mind the work, but the longer that you go in the season, the more you ride, the higher your odds are of injury, so in my opinion, it’s always best to get out sooner rather than later.

And I’m sure that this ride is going to get me out sooner.

But I want that top spot. Colt Campbell has to go after me. And he’s real competition. I walk out of the arena and wait for his ride to start.

“Twenty-four years old out of Gold Valley, Oregon, Colt Campbell.”

I hear the announcer’s voice echoing over the arena. And I stand out by the chutes, looking out at the night sky. I have the profound feeling that I’m standing in the middle of nothing. That I might not be real. It’s a weird feeling. One I’m not sure I understand entirely. But it’s like I’ve lost my sense of self in some ways.

My life is divided very neatly into three parts. Shitty childhood, before, and after. I made it through childhood, and then I got to a beautiful place that I didn’t think I would ever get to. Now I’m living in this after stage, which is dragging on and on.

As long as I keep my eye on the prize, as long as I keep my eye on winning the championship – just like I promised I would do – I can keep on going. But sometimes, I feel like a black hole is ready to swallow me up.

What if I win and it doesn’t matter?

What happens when I get what I want?

Worse, what if I never get it?

The reality is, I can’t keep doing this forever. Realistically, this might be my last season. As far as bull riders go, I’m old as fuck. I’m only out here because I made a promise, I’m stubborn as hell, and if I don’t keep that promise…

I might as well go ahead and walk into the ocean.

I hear an absolute uproar behind me, not the cheers of a winning ride, but something else. I turn around, and everyone around me is already in motion. Running toward the arena.

And that’s when I see him. Colt Campbell, lying in the arena dirt, bleeding.

Bleeding out, it looks like to me.

There’s blood everywhere, and he’s not moving. The bull is ravaging him like a predator with prey, and no amount of intervention from the bullfighters is doing a damn thing to stop him.

I haven’t felt much of anything in a long time. I can’t say that I like Colt Campbell, but I do know what it’s like to see somebody who’s so young, so vital, so full of life die. Senselessly. Brutally.

And that grips me viscerally. Makes me feel a deep, terrible grief that I try never to let myself experience at all.

Then I’m back in the moment. Colt is Colt, and not a representative of anyone else.

But still, I need him to be okay.

It’s hard to be the villain when the hero is dead.

Maverick

Also In this Series:

Dallas

Colt

Colt Special Edition

Maverick Special Edition

Excerpt

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