A swoon-worthy YA rivals-to-lovers romance between a Nebraskan cowboy and California girl, thrust together on the Oregon Trail. Anything’s possible under a prairie sky… Riley Thomas is feeling stuck—she’s moved from California to Nebraska, she’s on a weeklong Oregon Trail family bonding excursion, and her luggage is lost. There’s no one her age on the trip except a tall, dark and irksome cowboy who wrongly assumes she has zero ability to handle the great outdoors. She can’t wait for this misery to end—even though going “home” isn’t even possible anymore. Lone wolf Colton Walker loves the simpler life of the plains and his family’s tourism business that helps protect them. He’s a stand-up guy—not a love ‘em and leave ‘em type like his rival, Jake. And he knows better than to take his chances with a prairie princess like Riley. But Riley’s got more sense than Colton thinks--and he’s not nearly as inflexible as he seems. And under a wide prairie sky of puffy clouds and bright stars, everything comes into focus--including a cowboy’s heart. Katrina Emmel’s Near Misses and Cowboy Kisses will take you on a sweeping journey across the American prairie . . . once you love a boy in a Stetson, you’ll never be the same. Praise for Near Misses & Cowboy Kisses : “ Near Misses and Cowboy Kisses is a delightful and romantic romp that will lasso your heart and never let go!”—Kristy Boyce, bestselling author of Dungeons and Drama "A sweet, slow-burn romance with a swoon-y payoff."— Kirkus Reviews "Well-worn romance tropes delivered via tightly paced writing teeming with sunshiny vibes make this a swoony and uplifting read."— Publishers Weekly "A fun setting and a couple who readers will root for make this a great light romance selection."— School Library Journal Katrina Emmel grew up in New Hampshire, moved to the Midwest for graduate school, and continued traveling westward until she reached the Pacific. Now a SoCal resident, Katrina lives in an active household with her husband, two children, father-in-law, and their twin beagles, Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp. In addition to writing fiction, she loves science, crafts, making up silly songs for her kids, and supporting monarch conservation by planting lots of milkweed. Near Misses and Cowboy Kisses is her debut novel. Chapter 1 Riley Midwestern air smacks me in the face the minute I step off the plane onto the Jetway. It’s cooler, damper, and greener than I’m used to. Back home--what used to be home, anyway--it’s arid and dusty. Trudging up to the gate, I adjust the straps on my overstuffed backpack. The wisps of hair at the nape of my neck curl in the humidity. Unlike the continuous chaos of our layover in Las Vegas, Eppley Airfield is quiet. There’s a reason Nebraska is called a flyover state--you’re not supposed to actually land here. And yet, here I am. In Nebraska. The rest of my family snagged a row of seats together in the front of the plane, so they were able to disembark first. It irritated me to be stuck in the back near the bathroom, but honestly, I didn’t want to sit with them anyhow. Their extra-chipper “we’re going to have so much fun” attitude is grating on me. As if their positivity could make up for uprooting our lives and transplanting us to the Midwest with hardly any warning. I was supposed to be sunning myself on Huntington Beach and working some crap part-time job to save up money for college when I wasn’t volunteering at the marine nature center or working on my art portfolio. Enjoying my summer before senior year with friends. Nowhere on the list of activities was “board a plane the day after school gets out to fly to Nebraska for some ridiculous weeklong family excursion to kill time while the moving company carts our stuff to our new house.” Instinctively, I reach for my phone, but what’s the use of switching it out of airplane mode at this point? Do I really want to read all the wish you were here and having so much fun messages? Or worse, what if they’ve already forgotten about me? Not Quinn, of course. Quinn would never forget about me. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, when we were both put in time-out for lobbing fistfuls of sand at each other at recess the first day of school. But I think a text from her right now would only make me sadder. I spy my parents by a bank of cell phone charging stations that remind me of library study cubbies. As soon as Mom makes eye contact with me and waves me over to where they’re standing, she makes a beeline for the restroom. Dad takes a moment to stretch his legs. My younger brother, Caleb, hovers nearby, his fingers flying over his phone. He’ll be a high school freshman in the fall, so the move is less disruptive to his plans, since he was going to start the year in a new school anyhow. We’re quiet as we shuffle toward baggage claim. The three of them walk together like a cohesive unit and I lag behind. Ever since Mom and Dad announced the big move a few weeks a