Harbor City is still breathing ash-and Rowan Vale is walking back into the fire.
The ruins at Bracken Wharf hold the records she was hired to save and the truth she cant afford to find. Rowan is a disaster archivist: she catalogs whats left after tragedy, restores what can be cleaned, and keeps her grief neatly boxed in acid-free order. When the city offers her a contract to salvage documents from the burned warehouse, she tells herself its just another job. But seven people died here. And the fire took her fathers name with it-officially, quietly, forever.
Inside the fenced-off wreckage, Rowan discovers someone has been there before her-someone who doesnt want old ledgers or union records seeing daylight. Then she runs into the one man who moves through the smoke like he belongs to it: a tight-lipped investigator with heat in his stare and a past tangled in the case. He warns her to leave. She refuses. And the closer she gets to the truth, the more his protection feels like possession.
As threats turn personal and the citys revitalization plans start to look like a cover-up, Rowan must choose what to preserve and what to burn. Because desire is dangerous when its forged in grief-especially when the person you want might be the key to everything that was lost.
In Kiss Me Through the Ash, passion smolders beside secrets, and every kiss tastes like confession. When the final file is opened, someone will be exposed-and someone will do anything to keep the past buried.