He’d never been so hungry for a woman before, so hot. He’d never felt this kind of need, mindless, relentless, endless.

The Heart Breaker by Nicole Jordan is a story that takes you to places. Though this is the second book in the Rocky Mountain series, this can totally be read as a standalone.

Sloan McCord is a widowed hero, a single father navigating the complexities of life in the aftermath of a devastating range war. His marriage to a full-blooded Cheyenne woman resulted in his most cherished daughter, Jenna, who was only two months old when her mother was brutally murdered.

Now, more than a year later, Sloan is driven by ambitions to be elected to the Colorado Senate, and to achieve this, he believes he needs a wife who will not only care for his daughter and home but also elevate his social status and help change the hostile perceptions surrounding his support for the “wrong” side during the range war.

Enter Heather Ashford, a woman of rich roots who has fallen on desperate times. Urged by his sister-in-law, Sloan considers Heather as a potential wife. While Sloan wants only a wife of convenience who would allow him to keep his emotions in check, the first meeting between Sloan and Heather puts that notion to shame, as Sloan recognizes in Heather, the woman who has been haunting his dreams.

Despite his desire to keep her at arm’s length, Sloan is undeniably drawn to Heather in a way that leaves him vulnerable and conflicted. The sexual tension that simmers between the two is so well done, that I swear, even re-reading bits of the story for my review more than a year on still moved me to bits! Heather, who is inquisitive and intelligent, is determined to prove her worth, putting her heart and soul into being an equal partner in their marriage.

Ms. Jordan definitely excels in crafting vivid characters, with Sloan’s sensuality and stubborn pride shining through the depths of this story. His struggle with memories of his late wife and his initial decision to start the marriage with separate bedrooms add to the emotional sucker punches that the story delivers in spades, and also brings his internal conflicts when it comes to his burgeoning feelings for Heather to the forefront.

Heather’s unwavering determination in the face of her husband’s often cold, dismissive, and at times cruel behavior makes your heart ache for Heather. It is the reserves of strength that Heather finds and holds onto while trying to make the best of a situation that leaves her emotions in tatters, while her husband sets her body and soul on fire with every searing glance and touch that truly clutches at your heartstrings.

Like many readers, I also found that the story faltered slightly in its climax. The grand gesture and groveling that are meant to bring resolution to Sloan and Heather’s relationship fell a bit flat for me, which was a tad disappointing, given how emotionally invested in both of them I was. Despite this, the overall journey of their evolving relationship is compelling and well-written, not to mention out of this world scorching hot. Sloan is the type of hero I shelve as sex-on-a-stick, because he is all that and more with just his existence in the story.

Recommended for those who love a good western romance and those who adore reluctant widowed heroes who fall that much harder, because of the fact.

Final Verdict: The Heart Breaker by Nicole Jordan offers a rich tapestry of emotion, sensuality, and the slow burn of a developing romance amidst the backdrop of post-war societal challenges. Sloan and Heather’s journey towards happily ever after definitely leaves a lasting impression.

Favorite Quotes

His gaze swept her form slowly, with a vague suggestion of scorn, as though he recognized her as the helpless, inept widgeon he’d rescued from the path of a runaway carriage. Heather flushed, hoping the wide brim of her bonnet hid her mortification.
“You are my hero, sir,” the young lady murmured in breathless praise, demanding his attention.
Suddenly an ironic half-smile curled the corner of his mouth. It was the kind of smile that made sensible women do foolish things, Heather realized, one that softened his hard features with breathtaking effect and invited others to share his amusement.

He moved closer, letting his body touch hers.
The shock was stunning. She felt blistered by his sudden invading heat, by the hard, masculine contours that branded her.
Her heart beat in a wild pulse of alarm and need as he bent his head to her.
Through a daze she heard him whisper against her lips. “You really think you’re woman enough to handle me, duchess?”

His lips were warm and hard, like the man … threatening, dominating … yet somehow gentle. In response, something deep within her body quivered in purely sensual reaction.
His kiss deepened into a bold invasion, his tongue parting her lips and thrusting inside. The intimate intrusion shocked her for an instant. She hadn’t known a man’s kiss could be so blatant, so devastating. Hadn’t known she could respond this way … that she could feel so weak and not… so wanton.

“Don’t fight it,” he said in her ear as she arched against him. “Let it happen.”
Heather whimpered, colors and blinding light blurring before her eyes. It was like being swept up in a storm, unable to do anything but go along for the ride.
The first tiny convulsions swelled to shafts of fire. She strained against him, burning, pulsating, spinning away into a netherworld of shooting flames.

When the woman beneath him splintered into ecstasy, he groaned with a savage need held barely in check. At the rhythmic clenching of her loins, desire shot through his groin, white-hot and explosive.
Unable to restrain his agonized arousal any longer, he surged into her, deep into the tight, wet welcoming of her body. With a final groan, he thrust into her fiercely one last time, before shuddering and collapsing against her, his body pulsing inside hers.

Every muscle in his body tensed in rejection, the sinews cording his neck so rigid they stood out visibly.
A stillness came into the room as their gazes locked, a sense of breathless waiting.
Heather watched him, her urge for self-protection vanishing. This was a man in need.
To his dismay, Sloan couldn’t break the connection with her golden eyes, so warm with concern. He wanted to move away from her, away from the dangerous seduction of her compassion. He was too vulnerable just now. He felt so raw, so tired from the war he was waging. He couldn’t bear to have her this near.
“You’d best go,” he whispered, his voice raw and cracked.
She didn’t stir.
Nor did he. He couldn’t manage it. In his chest he felt that strange swelling, twisting sensation again. He didn’t like it. It hurt to feel. It was easier, safer, to keep himself isolated, remote, his rampaging emotions under tight control.
Yet he had no defense against her. He couldn’t save himself.

“Is it always like this?” she whispered long moments later.
When he didn’t answer, she drew back a little to look down at him.
His eyes grew hooded. He didn’t want to meet her searching gaze.
Just then, they heard the sound of a child’s gurgling laugh through the partially open door. Janna was awake.
Grateful for the interruption, Sloan eased himself from beneath her and left the bed. Giving her a glimpse of taut, bare buttocks, he bent to pull on his denims.
“Hell, it’s just sex, duchess,” he lied. “Happens all the time. Nothing to get worked up about.”

She watched him questioningly as Sloan moved to the damask wing chair beyond the dressing table. Sitting down, he tugged off the rest of his clothing and settled back, naked and relaxed, his upthrusting manhood blatantly masculine between his parted, sinewed thighs.
“Remember how I taught you to ride me?”
“Yes.” The word was a hoarse whisper.
“Why don’t you come here, and we’ll see how much you’ve learned?”

Then what had begun tenderly suddenly turned wild. He gripped her buttocks, no longer in control. She gasped in welcome as he plunged home… arching against him as his huge shaft drove deep and hard… She cried out, sobbing as his wonderful length impaled her helpless body over and over again.
They came together in passion and need. He took her with fierce, insistent thrusts, possessiveness surging through him. She was his; his need was almost violent, his desire uncontrollable.

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