No Talking. No Touching.

Three rules. Ten days. One phone call that ends everything.

Three million people watched Lila Hart's fiancé kiss another woman. Her board votes on Sunday. Her publicist's advice: disappear.

So Lila hands her phone to a stranger at a cedar gate in the Santa Cruz Mountains and agrees to a silent retreat. No talking. No touching. No crossing the white rope at the edge of the ridge.

Ren has kept those rules for fourteen years. He rings the bell, he counts things, and he has never once told anyone his real name. Then a woman in a too-expensive raincoat slips at the rope, and he holds her wrist four seconds longer than the danger requires.

Now there is a lens on the ridge, a magazine with his name, and a judge who will give Ren the mountain only if Lila is gone by Sunday. Every rule on the mountain was built to stop exactly this. Neither of them is going to stop.

No Talking. No Touching. is a slow-burn, dual-POV contemporary romance about two people who have been eight seconds on everyone's screen, and the ten days that give them back the rest of the tape.

Forced proximity. Forbidden rules. He falls first. Age gap. Standalone with a happily ever after.
Heat level: sensual, closed door.