KIRSTEN HARRELL

“Bree! Max! Where are you guys?” “Shhtt-” Bree’s tongue, like a thick strip of leather, made it difficult for her to tell her brother to...

Bree gunned her bike down Highway 89-A toward the Red Rock Coffee Shop. The engine of her beloved Harley Dyna Super Glide Sport roared in...

“You’re a total ass-hat, Scarecrow.” Bree slammed her mug down on the table, spilling beer, and glared at the bastard who’d just beat her...