November 30, 2016
Title: Fake Off
Author: Michelle McLoughney
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 30, 2016
Blurb
Polly Doyle hates her job, her life, and being stuck in her home town. Being a twenty-something, newly single, phone-sex operator isn’t exactly where she saw herself on career day. When Polly lands a spot on the popular TV show, The Bake Off, she vows to win. Baking is her passion and her ticket out of Cavern's Bend. There’s just one, very big man-shaped problem. It’s couples year. Polly doesn’t want a man, but for the first time in her life, she needs one. Faking it for a living comes naturally to Polly. Faking The Bake Off, should be a piece of cake. If only her fake boyfriend wasn’t so edible, so hot, and so damn infuriating!
Keane Marshall loves his job, his life, and moving back to his home town is the icing on the cake. Being a twenty-something, newly single chef of the hottest restaurant in Cavern’s Bend, is exactly where he wants to be. Until he gets roped into a competition with a woman he hoped he’d never see again. Polly Doyle was the first girl he ever wanted. The first girl he fell in love with. And the girl who sucker punched him into 6th grade infamy. Faking The Bake Off should be a piece of cake. If only his fake girlfriend wasn’t so sinfully spicy, so teeth tingling sweet, and so damn infuriating!
A spoonful of sugar, and a whole lot of spice.
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November 29, 2016
About A HARMLESS LITTLE RUSE (Harmless #2)
She has no idea what she’s doing. Loose cannons never hit their targets.And they take out plenty of collateral damage.
Four years ago Lindsay experienced the unspeakable right before me, and I couldn’t stop them.
But that’s all changed now.
When her father, Senator Bosworth, contacted me to ask — demand — that I protect her, it was a second chance. A shot at redemption.
An opportunity to right an unspeakable wrong.
Controlling Lindsay as she seeks her revenge on the monsters who hurt her won’t be hard.
Containing my own out-of-control feelings for Lindsay and keeping up this ruse of cold-blooded distance will be.
Even harder than admitting to her what really happened that night four years ago.
It turns out I don’t have to, though.
Someone else did it for me.
And I’ll make sure they regret it.
* * *
A Harmless Little Ruse is the second book in this political thriller/romantic suspense trilogy by USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine, and is entirely from Drew’s perspective.
Add A HARMLESS LITTLE RUSE to Goodreads!
Need to catch up? Grab the first book in the trilogy, A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME now!
About A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME (Harmless #1)
Four years ago I lost my virginity on live, streaming television.Too bad I wasn’t awake for it.
The video went viral. Of course it would. A Senator’s daughter on camera? Wouldn’t you click “share”? Besides, that’s what three of the four guys in the video did.
Share.
They shared me.
But that fourth guy? The nondescript one in the background in the upper left corner of the screen, just sitting on the couch? The only one who did nothing?
Not one single thing.
That was my boyfriend, Drew.
And that was the last time I saw him.
Until today, when my father—now on a path to the White House—hired him as head of security for my new team as I return home after four years of “recovering” in an undisclosed location that involved white lab coats, needles, pills and damage control.
You see, the other three guys never went to jail. Never had charges pressed.
Never faced consequences.
Until today.
Game on.
* * *
Add A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME to Goodreads!
Get your hands on A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME now:
Preorder A HARMLESS LITTLE PLAN (Harmless #3):
Want to win?
Meli Raine is giving away a $25 Gyft.com and a signed copy of A HARMLESS LITTLE GAME - you can enter via the Rafflecopter below!
About Meli Raine
Meli Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents, bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes — and the women who love them. Meli rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.
November 28, 2016
In a Ranger’s Arms
The Men of At Ease Ranch, #1
by Donna Michaels
Publication Date: November 28, 2016
Genres: Adult, Entangled: Lovestruck, Contemporary Romance
BUY:
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Former Army
Ranger Stone Mitchum doesn’t have time for sex. Since starting a
company with his brother and two buddies, he’s had more important things
on his mind. Like transitioning veterans back into society. But when
his curvy new tenant falls into his arms—literally—his libido snaps to
attention.Jovy Larson has four
weeks to prove she’s worthy of taking over the family business. Her
challenge? Sell gluten-free, vegan food—in the middle of cattle country,
Texas. It’s a tough task, but not half as tough as fighting her
attraction to her sexy, surly landlord.
It’s all my mother’s fault. She read to me when I was little and sparked my imagination. Now, my mind is the limit, and believe me, there’s no limit to my mind. Hello, I’m Donna Michaels, NYT & USA Today Bestselling Award winning author of Romaginative fiction. I write romance through the H’s—Hot, Humorous, Heartwarming reads with strong alpha cowboys and military men who are equally matched by their heroines. With a husband in the military fulltime, and a household of nine, and several rescued cats, I never run out of material. From short to epic, my books entertain readers across a variety of sub-genres, and one has even been hand drawn into a Japanese Translation.
Before
she knows it, Jovy’s tangling sheets with the hot cowboy, stalked by a
jealous cow, and strategizing ways to help Stone’s ranch. But by the
time her lease runs out and the test is over, she’s faced with a new
challenge…competing against Stone’s sense of duty to win his heart.
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
Could
the day get any worse?
Shutting
down his computer, Stone Mitchum silently cursed his stupidity. After a decade
as an Army Ranger, he knew better than to tempt fate with such a blatant
thought. Too many times he’d witnessed others throw caution to the wind and
invariably pay for the mistake in the end. Not him. Caution was his middle
name. Until lately. Jackass seemed more fitting. Like now, thanks to
that wayward thought, he just invited more shit to rain down on his sorry ass
today.
Way to
go, Stone Jackass Mitchum.
With a
grunt, he closed his laptop and stood, unsure if the creaking sound came from
his knees or the old oak desk barely noticeable under a mound of papers and
receipts. He glanced around the small office, just big enough to house the
desk, chair, filing cabinet, and worn sofa…covered in more paperwork and
receipts. At least the holes in the green plaid cushions were no longer
visible.
Organizing
the ranch office was on Stone’s to-do list, but not a top priority at the
moment. Today was rent day, and for a change, he was the collector, not
the payee. And after the last two emails he’d just read, he had some
serious scrambling to do.
The
first was from the bank reminding him the loan payment on the ranch was
overdue. Again. The second was from a new tenant, insisting she’d already paid
her first payment. His bank account said otherwise. Was this what he had to
look forward to with her for the next few weeks? If he hadn’t been so damn
desperate for money to keep the ranch and business afloat, he never would’ve
signed a tenant who wanted to rent one of his storefronts in town for only one
month. Good thing he insisted she start her lease early. Too bad the woman was
tough to pin down for payment. He was right tired of dealing with the
northerner through emails. It was time to have a face-to-face with this Jovy
person.
He
came around his desk and grimaced. What kind of a name was Jovy, anyway? The
pain was probably one of those eternally happy people who constantly smiled,
chewed gum, and drew hearts in her signature.
A few
more curses rumbled in his throat as the door to the office swung open and his
older brother Brick strode in, smudges of grease clinging to his jeans and
chiseled face, while a troubled gaze mirrored Stone’s discontent. Great. Looked
like he wasn’t the only one having a bad day.
The
two of them, along with their buddies Vince and Cord, had been working nonstop
for weeks on end to get their construction business off the ground. Requests
for estimates from word of mouth started to trickle in. If they kept up the
pace—provided nothing broke down—they’d be operating in the black by the end of
next week. That meant they could hire more veterans.
The
very goal of Foxtrot Construction—to give returning veterans a purpose, a
reason to exist, and a place to stay on their ranch, if needed.
“Damn
backhoe’s broken again.” The scowling giant tossed his large frame on the sofa,
sending papers and receipts cascading onto the worn wooden floor.
One
more thing to add to Stone’s never ending to-do list. Stripping and staining
the oak planks. The chore fell right below organizing the office. Damn list was
getting bigger every day.
“Yo!
Did you hear me, little brother?” A brow quirked over a set of dark eyes and
tired expression Stone knew too well. It mirrored his, except Stone had gray
eyes and a slimmer face. “The backhoe’s broken, again.”
He
sighed. So much for avoiding broken equipment. But considering nothing they
owned was brand-new, breakdowns were expected. Good thing Cord was an ace
mechanic.
“I
heard you.” Twelve months younger and shorter by one inch, although the way his
brother teased you’d swear it was a whole damn foot, Stone leaned his
six-foot-two-inch frame against the front of the desk. It creaked in protest
again. He sympathized.
The
ranch he purchased from his dad eight months ago with his brother and their two
former Army Ranger buddies seemed like a great deal at the time. The large
homestead, built by his grandfather, had been the perfect size and location to
give returning veterans a safe place to stay while readjusting to civilian
life. Or so they thought. Thousands of dollars and man-hours later, he wasn’t
so sure. The repairs seemed endless, and he had the added burden of knowing his
brother wanted to leave but wouldn’t until the ranch was fixed and the business
was making a profit. Stone felt old and worn out like his desk. And their bank
account.
He
blew out a breath. “What’s wrong with it now?”
“Starter’s
gone.”
He
stiffened. “Gone? Or broken?”
“Does
it matter?”
“Hell
yeah, it matters. Is someone stealing stuff or is the damn thing broken?”
Frowning,
Brick slowly rose to his feet, never breaking eye contact. “Relax. No one is
stealing anything. It’s broken. Like your patience. Jeez, bro, you need to get
laid.”
He
resisted flipping the jerk the bird. Barely. “Forget about my fucking sex life
and worry about the damn backhoe.”
Amusement
sparkled in his brother’s eyes. “But your sex life is more interesting. Or lack
thereof.”
Stone
snorted. “Then you need a new hobby.”
“No.”
Brick stepped forward and gripped Stone’s shoulders. “You need a new sex life.
You haven’t been out on a date in nearly nine months.”
A
fierce, sudden urge to smash something ripped through Stone, but he remained
rigid and still. Nine months ago, their friend Leo attempted suicide and almost
died. A fact that never failed to crush Stone’s chest with an invisible force.
Would the anger and self-loathing ever go away? Probably not. Still, Brick
didn’t deserve his wrath.
As if
sensing the inner battle, his astute brother tightened his hold. “We all blame
ourselves. But you need to snap out of it.”
If it
weren’t for the concern darkening the guy’s already-weary gaze, Stone could’ve
been persuaded to release a little of that anger. But his brother’s anxiety
neutralized the aggression surging through Stone’s veins.
Damn.
He hadn’t meant to worry anyone. Hell, he hadn’t even realized others had been
keeping track of his lack of liaisons.
“I’m
fine.”
Brick
released him and grinned. “Then prove it. Come with us to the Beer and Steer
later. You haven’t gone out with me and the guys in months.”
“Because
I’ve been too busy trying to run things,” he countered. “And there’s always
something that needs fixing on the ranch.”
Besides,
he didn’t deserve to have fun.
“Try
again, shorty.” His brother smirked. “We’ve done a damn good job of
turning the stables into quarters, fixing the barn for the horses, and tackling
some repairs on this old ranch house.”
True.
“And
with the exception of the dead starter, Cord has brought all the other
equipment back to life,” his brother added.
Also
true. Their buddy was very useful with any kind of tool you shoved in his
hands.
Brick
folded his arms over his broad chest and stared him down. “I’m aware you take
care of the business side of things, for which I’m eternally grateful, but you
know what they say: all business and no play makes Stone a very dull rock.”
A grin
twitched his lips. He punched his brother’s shoulder as he straightened from
the desk. “You’re a goof, and I need to go collect the rent, unless you happen
to be heading into town for that starter?”
“No.
Sorry, bro.” Brick shook his head. “I already called old Skeeter. He doesn’t
have one in stock. I came in here to use the laptop to order one online. You’re
going to have to go collect the rent yourself.” A mischievous gleam entered his
brother’s eyes. “You know, I heard the new tenant is pretty. Curvy, too. She
could be just what you need to get back into the game. Help you clean the lead
out of your pipes.”
Ah
hell, not that again. “Give it a rest, Brick.” He scoffed. “I don’t care what
she looks like. I’m not interested.”
“Ha!”
His brother’s bark of laughter bounced off the walls. “You say that now, but
one day, some pretty girl is going to come along and your deprived body is
going to overrule your stubborn-ass mind.”
Not
bothering to reply, Stone headed for the door. He wasn’t stubborn. His brother
was stubborn. Trying to change that mule-head’s mind once it was made was like
talking to a brick wall. Smiling at his poor joke, he grabbed his Stetson off
the hook by the door and shoved it on his head.
“Don’t
forget to meet us at the Beer and Steer later.”
Yep,
damn brick wall.
He
lifted his hand in a mock salute before pivoting around on his old Justins and
marching out the door to go saddle his horse. The ranch was only three miles
from town, and Stone was always looking for ways to cut costs. Plenty of folks
saved gas money by riding their horses instead of driving vehicles. Hell, old
Skeeter rode his tractor around town.
Using
a horse was smart. Besides, they enjoyed the exercise. Especially his colt.
Galahad was two, and taller and bigger than most stock horses. The
white-and-brown paint was always the talk of the town whenever Stone rode in on
him.
With
the fence to his right, he traveled past several properties and stopped to feed
some of the livestock grazing near the fence by the road. Their eagerness and
wholehearted acceptance made this Stone’s favorite part of heading to town. He
always shoved cut-up carrots into his pockets before leaving the ranch.
Joyful,
Texas, had a population of only fifteen hundred and three, yet the unexpected
tended to happen. He prided himself on being prepared for anything—
“Hi,
Stone,” a female voice called from behind.
He
turned toward the sound of hoofbeats to see the neighbor’s daughter riding
toward him on the other side of the fence, her ample breasts doing their best
to give the petite woman a black eye. Stifling a sigh, he smiled and nodded at
the recent college grad. “Hi, Abby.”
She
was a nice girl, and cute, and once upon a time he would’ve been pleased to see
interest lighting her pretty blue eyes. But, ever since Leo’s…attempt, Stone
had sworn off women. Hell, there was no need. None ever got a rise out of him.
His body remained dead below the belt, even in Abby’s presence. Could be
because his tastes tended to go for a more mature woman who was well past legal
drinking age and not prone to giggling, but he was fairly certain it was
because of that night.
“It’s
awfully hot. I was just heading to the swimming hole for an afternoon dip. Care
to join me?” Her pink-coated lips curved into a coy smile while she batted her
lashes.
A
blatant invitation. One his buddies at the ranch would think he’d lost his mind
to turn down.
“Thanks
for the invite.” He shook his head. “But I have business I need to tend to in
town.”
So,
he’d lost his mind, and his sex drive. Whatever. He had work to do.
Without
waiting for a reply, he picked up the pace and didn’t slow until the last
property before town came into view. There was only one girl in his life right
now. She was big and sweet, with the warmest chocolate-brown eyes that melted
his heart. Lula Belle. The cute black-and-white cow he always stopped to feed.
Catching his scent, the old girl stopped grazing and turned toward him.
He
halted his horse. “Hey, sweetheart. I have something for you.”
She
let out a moo and rushed to the fence, her bell clanging out a funny
tune that never ceased to bring a smile to his face.
After
dismounting, he fished out the remaining carrot pieces, then reached over the
fence. “Here you go, girl.” He opened his palm, marveling at how an animal so
big could be so gentle, never once nicking his hand.
Stone
stroked her head and talked to her as she ate, knowing not to get on his horse
until she was done. The old girl always ran after him, and he didn’t want her
to choke. So he waited for her to finish before he climbed back onto Galahad.
“I have to go, sweetheart. You stay here,” he told her before he resumed his
gallop to town, the echo of the cowbell growing fainter as he passed Skeeter’s
and neared the second building.
The
Beer and Steer.
He
rode by a handful of pickups, cars, horses, and a tractor in the parking lot,
while he eyed the front door. His stomach tightened. No. That was a step he
wasn’t ready to take. A damn good excuse was needed to get out of joining his
brother and the guys later.
One he
was still contemplating as he removed his hat and swiped the sweat from his
brow after he secured Galahad on a horse post tucked safely out of the way at
the end of the street. Last month, rent day had been twenty degrees cooler. He
knew better than to complain, though. Next month started “oven” season.
Although compared to some of his deployments to the hellhole across the pond—in
full gear—a Texas summer would be cake.
With
his Stetson back in place, he spent the next half hour walking down one side of
the street, collecting rent from a few tenants in the L-shaped row of quaint
little shops and businesses he and some of Foxtrot’s crew had painted a light
blue last month. Amazing what a coat of paint could do. The buildings looked
fresh and cheerful. Hell, even the foot traffic appeared to have increased. He
nodded to several passersby and stopped to shoot the shit with a few others.
A
sliver of satisfaction shot through him at the knowledge that not only had the
veterans he employed benefited from three days’ work, his tenants had also
reaped a reward. A good reminder of why he did what he did.
Still
trying to devise a reason to keep his ass out of the Beer and Steer, Stone
headed down the wooden sidewalk on the other side of the street to his final
stop.
Jovy.
The northerner who was trying to get out of her first payment. What was her
problem? He’d been more than lenient, signing her on for only one month. Jesus,
he’d even agreed to let her make weekly payments. Weekly. Who does that?
Apparently,
he did. Because he was an idiot. And desperate.
A
desperate idiot.
But he
wasn’t a hard-ass. Hell, he knew how damn tough it was to pay bills, and if he
hadn’t needed every cent from the shops he and his brother had inherited when
their grandparents passed, Stone wouldn’t be out in the damn midday Texas heat
pestering good folks for their rent. But he needed it. The vets needed it. And
dammit, this new tenant was just as bound as the rest.
Setting
his shoulders, he rounded the corner, ready to do battle with the pain in the
ass from Philly, then stopped dead, his heart rocking the shit out of his
chest.
A
stunning woman with a dark ponytail swishing past her shoulders stood on a
ladder in a white tank top and shorts, struggling to affix a metal sign to two
hooks in the wood ceiling above the shop door.
Long,
bare, supple legs—with the right amount of delectable curves—disappeared under
a pair of denim cutoffs barely covering the sweetest ass he’d ever seen. His
pulse kicked up speed then broke into a full-blown gallop. Not only were those
curves sweet, they were so awe-inspiring they breathed life into his neglected
body part. The one he didn’t want inspired. His damn dick twitched for the
first time in nearly a year.
Son of
a bitch. That was not good.
Still,
try as he might, Stone couldn’t tear his gaze away. He was seeing some cheeks
here. Mouthwatering, upside-down heart-shaped cheeks he wanted to grab with
both hands while he buried his…
A
sharp burst of longing spiked almost painfully through his groin. Did he look
away? Hell no. His resurrected libido was calling the shots. He swallowed,
never taking his gaze off the shorts that were so short, he could see a light
purple thong, and the bottom of…ah hell…
A
green tattoo?
The
urge to step close and run his hands up those gorgeous legs and cup the equally
gorgeous ass caused him to hear bells. By the time the flash of black and white
registered in his muddled brain, Stone realized the ringing he was hearing was
real. Very real. And it came from the bell around the approaching cow’s neck.
Lula
Belle.
Shit. How’d she get lose?
At the
moment, that didn’t matter, because the cow was charging straight toward him,
apparently uncaring there was a ladder with a sexy, unsuspecting,
barely-dressed woman in the way.
…
When Jovy Larson’s
grandfather had sent her to the middle of cattle country USA to open a
gluten-free, vegan café in a contest to test her business skills against her
cousin, she knew she would have to deal with some tough, and often unexpected,
situations. Becoming a hit-and-moo victim of a rampaging cow had never
made the list. Bovines weren’t exactly a common fixture in the City of
Brotherly Love, despite the fact that Pennsylvania was one of the top five U.S.
dairy farm states with over eight thousand farms. She’d never seen one up
close. The clanging of the bell grew louder.
That
was about to change. And fast. Mad-cow-charging fast.
With a
startled gasp, she tried to scramble down the ladder, but it teetered under her
feet and her hands ended up windmilling instead. Jovy’s last thought as she
flew backward toward the large plate-glass storefront window was if she didn’t
die, her cranky landlord was going to kill her.
Fully
expecting to smash through the glass, she was shocked to hear a deep, sexy,
panty-melting baritone claim, “I’ve got you,” a second before a tall cowboy
appeared out of thin air to catch her with his rock-hard body. Two strong,
muscular arms clamped around her before the momentum knocked them both to the
ground.
Her
mind was processing the fact that she was uncut and still alive, sprawled over
the sexiest man she’d ever seen, when the stranger rolled them over to shield
her from the falling ladder. The impact vibrated through his stiff frame.
Holy
cow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
Warm breath rushed over her neck and shoulders as he drew back to stare down at
her. During the tussle, his hat fell off to reveal short black hair that didn’t
quite reach his collar. “What about you? Are you all right?” Gray eyes, the
color of a child’s prized marble, blinked at her in a worried frown.
Increasingly
aware that she was now underneath the tall, sexy stranger, whose big,
warm, firm hand was cupping her ass—and she liked it—Jovy cleared her throat.
“Define ‘all right.’”
“Are
you hurt?” He removed his palm from inside her shorts, the warm, tingling
feeling dissipated along with his touch, until he shoved the ladder aside, sat
up, and began to run both hands efficiently over the rest of her body.
Her
sorely neglected body. A body doing an all hail Mr. Gray Eyes tremor.
Lord have mercy, her good parts hadn’t been in contact with a male like this in
over a year. Not since…
“Hey,
miss? Answer me. Are you hurt?”
Hurt?
She stifled a hysterical giggle. “No.”
Aroused?
Oh, yeah. Big-time. And completely embarrassed by her reaction to the total
stranger. She could explain away the tremors racking her body as shock, but not
the beaded nipples plainly visible through her bra and tank top.
If he
noticed them, he didn’t let on as his hands skimmed over her chest, neck, and
shoulders.
She
gritted her teeth, enjoying the scrape of his callus-roughened hands on her
skin, doing her damnedest not to embarrass herself further by moaning.
Dumb
body.
“You
feel okay to me.”
Sitting
up, she snickered. “Thanks, but…shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?” The stupid
words were out of her mouth before she had the chance to swallow them down.
He
stilled and met her gaze for a beat, then his head tipped back and a bark of
laughter echoed down the covered walkway. The deep, sexy sound did nothing to
lessen her arousal, but the sight of the cow, pushing her way past the fallen
ladder to moo in his startled face, sparked her amusement.
Jovy
giggled. “Looks like you have yourself an admirer there, cowboy.”
“Nah.”
He shrugged, lifting a hand to stroke the cow’s neck. “Lula Belle is just a
little overzealous.”
And
bold, or maybe not. Jovy didn’t possess a wealth of bovine knowledge. But she
did know it was plumb dangerous for livestock to be roaming free in town. “You
should probably keep your cow at home.”
A
smile tugged his mouth. “She’s not my cow.”
At this,
Lula Belle bent down to lick his face.
Jovy
quirked a brow. “Does the cow know that?”
Amusement
danced in the stranger’s eyes, and the smile that had threatened claimed a set
of kissable lips she had the sudden urge to taste. Her heart rolled in her chest.
Dammit. He needed to stop doing that or she was never going to catch her
breath. An instant later, his gaze dropped to her mouth, and what little air
was left in Jovy’s lungs took a hike, leaving her with a racing pulse and
fluttering stomach. No man had ever affected her this way, especially a
stranger. But at the moment, she didn’t care. An odd, new, tangible current
coursed between them.
If the
heat entering his gaze was any indication, the stranger felt it, too. Good.
She’d hate to be the only one stuck in this crazy-ass haze. The good-looking
Texan was hard. Deliciously hard. And dead sexy. Heaven help her, it took all
of Jovy’s willpower to fight the impulse to press him onto his back and check his
body for injuries…with slow and very thorough precision. That would be foolish.
So damn foolish. Need trembled through her like a rampaging cow, but she
continued to resist. The urges were so far out of her character she remained
stunned.
And
completely at his mercy. All the cowboy had to do was make a move, one little
move, and she would lean forward and accidentally catch his lips with her
mouth.
“Is
everyone all right?” An older man approached, rope dangling from his hand…on a
tractor?
She
wasn’t in Pennsylvania anymore.
He was
a welcome interruption. Her heated, sensitized, need-filled body wholeheartedly
disagreed.
The
cowboy blinked the desire from his eyes before he turned his attention to the
newcomer. “Yeah.” He gently pushed the cow back so he could stand. “We’re okay,
Skeeter.”
Skeeter?
There was a name she didn’t hear every day, but it fit the senior citizen’s
friendly, weathered face. Her sexy rescuer turned and held a hand out to help
her up, but before she could grab on, Lula Belle rushed forward to shove
between them.
“Possessive
much?” She scooted backward on her butt.
Skeeter
chuckled and passed the rope to the cowboy, who quickly fashioned a loop and
harnessed the cow. “Don’t mind Lula Belle. The old gal is sweet on Stone.”
She
smirked. “Never would’ve guessed.”
Nor
would she have guessed the cowboy’s name was Stone. Although whether it was his
first, last, or nickname, it was 100 percent fitting, considering the rock-hard
body that had just covered hers on the sidewalk.
Still
chuckling, the older man held out his hand, and this time, the cow didn’t
interfere as he helped Jovy to her feet.
“Thank
you, Skeeter. I’m Jovy.”
“Welcome
to Texas, Jovy.” He smiled and released her hand.
She
glanced up and down the street. “Are there any other rampaging cows or
livestock I need to worry about?”
“Not
unless you count cowboys as livestock.” He winked, then grabbed the rope from
Stone. “Come on, Lula Belle. Let’s get you home. I bet Mr. Rawlins isn’t even
aware you’re gone.” With a nod and a few hard tugs on the harness, Skeeter led
the protesting cow away.
She
was definitely not in Pennsylvania anymore.
Jovy
turned, intending to thank the stranger for saving her, but he was busy
affixing her dangling sign to the hooks above the door. Without the use of the
ladder.
Jeez.
Just how tall was the guy?
“Small”
was not a word used to describe Jovy’s five-foot-nine-inch frame. Tall. Sturdy.
Curvy. Heck, despite her dark hair, she’d even been nicknamed Marilyn by
several guys back in her college days. But tiny, delicate, and small were all
antonyms.
Until
now. Compared to this man. He had almost a good half a foot on her, with broad
shoulders and muscles bulging under the rolled-up sleeves of his denim shirt.
The lean Texan made her feel delicate…and feminine. Not an easy feat.
He
finished hanging the sign, stepped back, and frowned. “V-Spot Café?”
For a
small, stupid moment her mind heard G-spot and her body responded with
another damn tremor. Bet he knew where a woman’s…
Stiffening,
she gave her head a small shake to get her mind back on track before thrusting
out her hand. “Thank you for catching me.”
Warm
and strong, his fingers curled around hers and tiny tingles of heat skittered
up her arm. She glanced from their hands to his bewildered gaze.
That
was new.
He
cleared his throat and released her. “It was nothing.”
Unsure
if he was referring to his heroic act or the current flowing between, she
pushed both thoughts aside. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t staying in Texas any
longer than necessary. This crazy, weird attraction was best ignored.
“Well,
I appreciate what you did. Thanks for your help.” She glanced at the shop and
shuddered. “Man, my jackass of a landlord would’ve had a cow if that window had
smashed. I’m sure he never would’ve believed the cause. Heck, I’m beginning to
wonder if he’s even real. He won’t give me a phone number. I have to do all my
dealing with him through emails. He even made me come down here a few days
early or he threatened to give the place to someone else. Talk about difficult.
And strange.” She turned back to face him, noting that the amusement had
disappeared from his eyes. “Oh, wow. I take it by your sour expression you’ve
had dealings with S.B. Mitchum, too. I bet the S stands for ‘stubborn.’ Or
maybe it stands for ‘strange.’”
Again,
she was alone in her merriment. The cowboy didn’t crack a smile. Nothing.
Zilch. In fact, his expression turned as hard as stone. Ah, crap. This
was a small town. He probably knew the guy. She sighed. Great. Now she had to
backpedal.
“Well,
we’ve all been called stubborn and strange. Even me.” She shrugged. “Speaking
of called…we haven’t been officially introduced. I’m Jovy Larson. And you
are…?”
His chin rose a tick, and he
leveled her with a cold gray gaze. “Stone Mitchum. Your jackass of a landlord.”
ABOUT DONNA MICHAELS
It’s all my mother’s fault. She read to me when I was little and sparked my imagination. Now, my mind is the limit, and believe me, there’s no limit to my mind. Hello, I’m Donna Michaels, NYT & USA Today Bestselling Award winning author of Romaginative fiction. I write romance through the H’s—Hot, Humorous, Heartwarming reads with strong alpha cowboys and military men who are equally matched by their heroines. With a husband in the military fulltime, and a household of nine, and several rescued cats, I never run out of material. From short to epic, my books entertain readers across a variety of sub-genres, and one has even been hand drawn into a Japanese Translation.
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