My Whiskey Redemption Sneak Peek

Birdie Whiskey has spent years watching love find everyone else. She has a successful chocolate business, an incredible family, and a full life. All that’s missing is someone to share it with. When she gets swept up in a single, unforgettable night with a mysterious stranger, she believes it’s finally her turn. But the man who knocks her off her feet is the last man her family would ever accept.

Exclusive early release for ebooks and paperbacks on Melissa’s online shop – 1st May, 2026!
Retailers release date: May 6th, 2026.
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CHAPTER ONE

BIRDIE WHISKEY RACED down the slope, her board slicing through the snow as her mind ricocheted from stewing over her spectacularly nonexistent love life to creating new recipes for her chocolate shop, Divine Intervention—Forever Alone Fudge? Better than a Bachelor Bonbon?—and to the undeniable fact that hot yoga solved more problems for her than men ever had, but it couldn’t replace the emotional connection she craved.

Why don’t more hot guys attend hot yoga classes?

She imagined a room full of shirtless guys trying to do yoga and let out a whoop as she flew over a mogul and spotted her bestie, Quinn Finney, who worked with her at the chocolate shop, lip-locked at the base of the slope with her beau, Cutter Long, bringing another idea for the shop.

Third-Wheel Truffle, anyone?

What’s that saying? Always a third wheel, never a ride or die?

Story of my life.

She wasn’t supposed to be a third wheel this weekend. Her second cousin, and wingman, Raleigh “Rebel” Whiskey, was supposed to come with them and hang out with her, but he owned a classic-car restoration business and had some kind of car emergency. At least Birdie had the cabin she and Rebel had rented all to herself. She only wished they’d opted for one with a hot tub. Hot-tub hopping was fun with Rebel, but she didn’t really want to do it alone.

As she cut across the slope to get closer to where she’d spotted Quinn and Cutter, her gaze caught on a big, broad, bearded man carrying a snowboard, dark hair sticking out from beneath a black beanie. Holy Viking.

Someone sped past, jerking Birdie’s attention back to the slope. She was plowing straight toward Quinn and Cutter at breakneck speed. “Watch out!” she hollered.

They lurched apart just in time for Birdie to blast between her bespectacled chestnut-haired bestie and the strapping cowboy. Shrieking with laughter, Birdie swerved around another couple and fishtailed to a stop, sending snow flying into the air. Grinning triumphantly, she threw her arms up and cheered, “Woo-hoo!”

Quinn gaped at her. “Birdie!”

Cutter barked out an incredulous laugh and shook his head.

“What?” Birdie asked as she pushed her goggles up to her helmet and then unhooked one boot from her board.

“That was graceful,” Cutter teased.

Tipping him a smile as she made her way over, she said, “Thank you!”

“You nearly killed us,” Quinn said. “What were you doing?”

“Scoping out Ragnar.” She looked around, but her Viking was nowhere in sight. With her luck, she’d imagined him.

“Are you kidding?” Quinn asked excitedly, looking around. “The actor is here?”

“Who the hell’s Ragnar?” Cutter asked.

“A hot guy on the show Vikings,” Birdie said. “I didn’t know Vikings liked to snowboard, but I guess there’s not much those big, delicious beasts can’t do.”

“He’s an actor, not a real Viking,” Cutter said.

“Says you,” Birdie said. “You missed out, Quinn. We’re talking mile-wide shoulders, a beard, and a dangerously sexy vibe.”

Cutter scoffed. “She’s not missing out on anything.” He reached for Quinn’s hand, tugging his smiling girlfriend into a kiss.

Birdie rolled her eyes. She was happy her friends had come to their senses and had finally given in to what the rest of them had seen for months, but everyone around her was coupled off now, and at twenty-nine, Birdie was starting to wonder if she’d ever be lucky enough to find someone who adored her the way Cutter adored Quinn. But she couldn’t stew on that right now. She wanted to get back on the slopes. With any luck, maybe she’d run into the Viking she’d seen.

“Ready to go again?” she asked.

“We’ve been at it all day. We need a break,” Quinn said. “We’re going to head back to the cabin and get some hot chocolate.”

“Uh-huh. I know what that means,” she teased, catching Cutter’s smirk. “I’m going to hit the slopes and scout for a date for New Year’s.”

“That’s three months away,” Quinn said.

“Exactly. Which is a realistic search window, considering most men don’t make it past the first impression, and the ones who do don’t reveal their cracks until we’re a few dates in. I honestly thought my parents would pull through and find me a man to save me from dating hell, but clearly that was overly optimistic. They totally failed me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Quinn said.

“I am not,” Birdie insisted. “Everyone in my family found love on our ranch. Taking in someone who is right for me is the least my parents can do.” While Birdie chose not to live and work on their family’s second-chance ranch, where they rescued horses and gave troubled souls the therapy and support they needed to find their path in life, her older brothers and sister, Doc, Cowboy, Dare, and Sasha, all lived and worked there.

“You asked your parents to set you up?” Cutter asked.

“Don’t look so surprised. The whole legacy of love started with them. They were the first to find love on the ranch. My dad will tell you it was love at first sight at the Roadhouse, but then he came to work on the ranch, and my mother fell like a landslide. I did what any self-respecting single woman would do in my situation. I stifled my pride and told my parents they had six months to find me a soulmate.”

Cutter cocked a brow. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“That’s what they claim, but I know otherwise. And you should, too! You met Quinn at an event there,” she reminded him. “Even if it took you years to figure out you were meant to be together, you can’t deny that Redemption Ranch definitely holds some kind of magic. But it’s been almost a year and a half since I asked my parents to help, and I’m still flying solo, so apparently that magic works for everyone except me. Which sucks, because it’s slim pickin’s out here. You know how awful dating apps are. Nobody ever looks like their pictures, and almost everything they say in their profile is a lie.”

“You shouldn’t be on those apps anyway,” Cutter said. “They’re not safe.”

Birdie gave him a deadpan look. “How else do you expect me to get a date?”

“Wait, don’t you have a date next week with that guy you met at the coffee shop? Joe?” Quinn reminded her.

“I forgot about that. He was cute. But why do all the guys I meet have boring names?”

“What’s boring about the name Joe?” Cutter asked.

“It’s par for the course, that’s all,” Birdie said flatly. “I swear, dating is like digging through a giant box of chocolates for your favorite and realizing every single one is filled with that weird jelly filling nobody likes.”

“She’s not wrong,” Quinn said.

“And then there’s every guy’s inability to keep up. They’re either overwhelmed by me or they want to fix me, and both are equally exhausting,” Birdie exclaimed. “Half the time they’re like, you’re too much, and I’m literally just standing there being delightful.”

Quinn laughed. “You know I love you, but delightful is not a word I’d use to describe you.”

“Delightful isn’t usually quite so…” Cutter eyed Birdie’s Comic Book Candy ski suit, a mix of bright blocks of color and graphic pop art. “Loud.”

Birdie pointed at him. “That’s rude. Accurate, but rude.”

“I’m just saying you’re high-voltage, Bird,” Cutter clarified. “And I mean that in the very best way. It’s going to take a hell of a guy to keep up with you.”

“Exactly,” Quinn agreed. “Maybe you need a new approach. Why don’t you try being a little more mysterious?”

Birdie planted a hand on her hip. “I’m mysterious.”

“You tell everyone your life story on the first date,” Quinn said.

“Only when it comes up naturally! Besides, I’d rather get it all out there. If they can’t take the speed, they should get out of my lane.”

“I get that, but maybe give it a minute first so you don’t scare them off,” Quinn suggested.

“I am not scary,” Birdie insisted.

“That’s not what she means,” Cutter said. “Think about it this way. When you’re thirsty, would you rather drink from a faucet or a firehose?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I guess it makes sense.” Birdie cracked a grin. “Although, for the record, I prefer my guy had a firehose than a garden hose, if you know what I mean.”

Birdie and Quinn laughed. Cutter shook his head.

“I can try to amp up my mysteriousness,” Birdie said. “But I honestly don’t know if I’m capable of slowing my roll.”

Quinn tilted her head, softening her tone. “Maybe start off small, like using your given name. I love your nickname, and it suits you perfectly, but some guys may not take you seriously because of it.”

“Do I look like a Blaire to you?” Birdie asked.

“Would you stop?” Quinn’s smile softened. “You’re that sought-after piece of chocolate in a world of jelly-filled treats, no matter what you call yourself. All I’m saying is, if you meet a guy, don’t overshare until you know if he deserves to hear about your family and your chocolate shop and your love of all things funky.”

“I agree,” Cutter said protectively. “No more telling strangers that you own the shop or where the Whiskey ranch is, either. You’re going to end up with someone who’s looking for a sugar mama.”

“Well, I am a chocolatier,” Birdie teased.

Cutter narrowed his eyes.

“Fine,” she relented. “Those are all good points, but if this backfires and guys think I’m boring, I’m coming after both of you.”

Cutter slung an arm over Quinn’s shoulders, and Quinn said, “You know where to find us.”

“Forget what I said. I’m not going anywhere near your cabin tonight.” Birdie waved them off.

“Text us later so we know you’re alive,” Cutter said.

Birdie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom. Now, please go be nauseatingly in love while I try to remember to be Mysterious Blaire instead of Firehose Birdie.”

To continue reading, please buy MY WHISKEY REDEMPTION