Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders) (52 page)

Mistress Christmas

Miss Firecracker

Anthologies

Wild Ride: Strong, Silent Type

Three’s Company: Wicked Garden

Beginnings: Babe in the Woods

Running With the Devil

Dirty Deeds

Coming Soon:

Doctor Feelgood

She’s a little bit country, and he’s…not.

Gone Country

© 2012 Lorelei James

Rough Riders, Book 14

Arizona businessman and long-lost McKay love child Gavin Daniels has been awarded sole custody of his teenage daughter Sierra for one year. In order to steer Sierra back on track after a brush with the law, he pulls up stakes and heads to Wyoming, looking for support from his ranching family…even if he isn’t sure where they fit in the McKay dynamic. He’s prepared for every contingency with the move: the less-than-enthusiastic response from his daughter, learning to run his corporation remotely, but he’s thrown for a loop when his new housemate, Rielle, is a whole lot sexier, funnier and sassier than he remembered.

Rielle Wetzler has finally overcome the stigma of having hippie parents and being a young single mother. In the two years since she sold her ailing B&B to Gavin Daniels, she’s become financially stable running the homespun businesses she loves. But now Gavin is in Sundance to claim the house that’s rightfully his. Although Rielle knew this day would come, she isn’t prepared to leave the home she built for herself and her now-grown daughter. And to further complicate matters, her long-dormant libido is definitely
not
ready to live with this newly buff Gavin—who isn’t a cowboy, but has the take-charge attitude to prove he’s all McKay.

Sharing a roof, their troubles and their triumphs is too much temptation, and before long, Gavin and Rielle are sharing a bed. But sharing their hearts and lives forever? That’s a whole ’nother ball of wax.

Warning: Contains a feisty, independent heroine who doesn’t need a man to take care of her needs outside the bedroom and a sweet, sexy and bossy hero who’s up to the challenge of proving her wrong.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Gone Country:

“Rielle?”

She pivoted in the dirt and faced Gavin. “Are you lost?”

“No. Just exploring.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m lonely.”

“Right. You’re bored.”

His low, throaty laugh was seductive. “That too. I followed the road that winds around the gardens and it ended abruptly.”

“It ends to deter explorers.”

“You are hilarious. So what are you ripping out, plowing up, or chopping down today?”

Rielle peeled off her gloves and set them on top of the fence before she left the fenced garden. “I’m about to check my fruit trees to see how close I am to harvest.”

“Then you what? Pick them, load them and haul them to a farmer’s market?”

“Some gets sold locally, but the bulk goes to restaurants across the country.”

“There’s a market for it outside of Wyoming?”

“A much bigger market.”

Gavin fell in step with her as she headed toward the grove of trees at the bottom of a small hill.

Rielle gestured to the orchard. “These are considered old fruit trees. They’d been here thirty years when my parents bought the place thirty years ago. So they’re sixty-year-old trees that’ve never been treated with pesticide. That’s incredibly rare.”

“So you just leave them be and let nature take her course?”

“I prune and water and use natural pest repellents. It usually works. But one year the trees were infested with some weird bug and had zero yield. I figured all the trees were done for because…”

“You couldn’t spray them.”

“Exactly. The next year, the trees came back stronger than ever, no bugs. I chalked it up to nature knowing what the trees needed better than I did.”

He walked alongside her. “I am a clueless urbanite when it comes to trees—with the exception of recognizing orange and grapefruit trees.”

“I think it would be cool to walk into your backyard and pick a grapefruit for breakfast.” She touched a branch of the closest tree. “This is a pine sweet apple.”

“Never heard of that variety.” His eyes lit up. “Ah, this is the tree that lays the golden apples.”

She laughed. “Yep. I have two of these. Next in line are mountain pear trees, again a rarity. These two are the fussiest of all the trees; I never count on any kind of yield.”

“But when it does bear fruit?”

“I get five bucks
apiece
for them. They’re so tiny, yet have such robust flavor. One chef in Chicago has a standing order to buy the entire crop. He’s anxiously awaiting shipment because it’s been two years since these suckers have bloomed.”

Gavin whistled.

“The next two trees are golden apricot. I sell the fruit to locals or find some use for it in my own cooking and canning. After those are the plum trees. The variety is sweet water pink, another rarity. The skin is such a deep purple it’s almost black, but the flesh is a very pale pink. The fruit doesn’t get big, and it tastes like a cross between a blueberry and a strawberry.”

“What’s the going rate for a sweet water pink plum?”

“Six bucks apiece.”

“Do you sell them around here?”

She shook her head. “Wyomingites won’t spend that on a beer, let alone on a tiny piece of fruit. There’s a Japanese fusion restaurant in San Francisco that takes the whole lot every year. My understanding is the chef slices a single fruit and plates it with single curls of white, dark and milk chocolate and charges twenty-five bucks for it.”

They kept walking and she began to feel self-conscious, blathering on about trees. “You sure you’re interested in this? Or are you just being polite?”

He stopped and grabbed her hand. “I’m very interested.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never known anyone who makes a living off the land the way you do. I mean, yes, the McKays do, but in a different way. I’ve watched you nurturing your garden, slaving to harvest, exhausted but exhilarated. It’s something to behold. I don’t think I could do it year in, year out, being at the whim of nature and the weather.”

Rielle stood close enough to him to let his eyes draw her in. That vivid blue, the same blue all the McKays had, but his eyes seemed…brighter somehow. Truer. Something about Gavin said
trust me.
This was the first time she’d ever had that gut reaction. Because she didn’t trust easily, that made her attraction to him all the more acute.

“I like seeing you this way,” he said in his rough and compelling voice.

“How’s that?”

“In your element.”

“Meaning covered in dirt?”

“You being dirty suits me just fine, Rielle.”

Oh. My. God. Had he really meant it that way? Yes, if the heat in his eyes was a sign.

“I don’t even know what to say to that, Gavin.”

He just smiled. He dropped her hand and pointed to the last two trees. “What about those? Magic Mediterranean figs that taste like ambrosia and earn you a hundred bucks a pop?”

In that moment the sexual tension vanished and everything went back to normal between them. She was glad for it, even when she had a pang of regret for being tongue-tied when he always came up with such sexy off-the-cuff comments. “Those are just plain old red delicious apples.”

“But from sixty-year-old trees.”

“Yep. I don’t sell many of those. I sacrifice them to the deer, hoping they’ll gorge themselves on these first two trees and leave my other trees the hell alone.”

“Logical. But I see you’ve erected some netting as extra insurance.”

“That’s mostly to keep the birds away. That’s also why I’ve let the chokecherry bushes get overgrown. It’s a natural deterrent and a critter barrier.” She ducked under the netting and beckoned to him. “Come into my secret garden, tycoon.”

A smiling Gavin followed her without question.

At the base of the plum tree, she pointed to a branch directly above his head. “I can’t reach that high, so I want you to pick that plum closest to the trunk.”

“Seriously? You’re letting me try a six dollar piece of fruit?” His eyes took on a strange twinkle. “I’ll warn you, I don’t have any bills smaller than a twenty on me.”

“I oughta charge you double for that crack. Go on. Pick it.”

Curling his fingers around it, he tugged and promptly handed the fruit to her as if it was a bomb. “It’s so small. And warm.”

“That’s what makes it so luscious.” Rielle held the fruit between her thumb and forefinger. “I’ll take the first bite so you can see how juicy and tender the pink flesh is.” Keeping her eyes on his, she brought it to her mouth, using the very edges of her teeth to sink down through the skin. The instant the sweet juice hit her tongue she closed her eyes and moaned. Normally she limited herself to the damaged or near rotten fruit, not the perfect ones such as this.

When Rielle opened her eyes, Gavin was right there. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “See how the juice coats the pink flesh when it’s soft and warm?”

“Goddamn, I want a taste,” he said, his voice a deep rasp. “A full taste.”

“Of this fruit?”

His hot blue gaze locked to hers, broadcasting that he wasn’t thinking about the plum. “Oh, I’d take a full taste of that too.” Holding her hand in place, he bent forward and sucked the other half from her fingers. “Mmm.” After he removed the pit from his mouth, he nipped her fingertips. “I’m thinking I need another taste.”

“Gavin.”

“You know what I want to do right now? Lick every bit of juice off your lips. Then I want to suck it off your tongue. So when I kiss you the first time? I’ll know the sweetness and heat is all you.”

Her mouth had gone desert dry, but she eked out a soft, “Do it.”

The best type of growing up involves getting down and dirty.

Rocky Mountain Rebel

© 2013 Vivian Arend

Six Pack Ranch, Book 5

Vicki Hansol made different choices than her less-than-reputable mom and sister, yet her fiery temper has left her branded with the same town-bad-girl label. When she desperately needs a change of scenery, her get-out-of-town-free ticket arrives—and requires she face down one of her deepest fears.

Easygoing Joel Coleman has nothing to complain about, but he’s never really done anything to brag about either. The youngest member of the Six Pack Ranch is looking to make some changes in his life that include stepping out from under his twin brother’s shadow.

So when the bold beauty with the smart mouth approaches him with a proposition, Joel is intrigued. Her request for him to
teach her to ride
soon takes on a whole new meaning. All that passion in his arms, his bed, in the barn…hell, anywhere he can get it?
Bring it on.

But tangling the sheets leads to unanticipated complications, and by the time the dust settles, everything family means is going to be challenged.

Warning: Saddle up for some youthful vigor applied with great enthusiasm. Ropes, rails and raunchy sex—there’s more places to get dirty around the ranch than first meets the eye.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rocky Mountain Rebel:

No, she wouldn’t play the blame game. No matter how she’d been treated while growing up, no matter what her family’s reputation, she was an adult and responsible for her own actions.

Right now? There was no one to blame for being unemployed but herself. She’d love to say it was Eric’s fault, but he wasn’t the one who’d moved his fat head into her fists.

She shouldered her backpack and headed down the alley, thankful he hadn’t pressed assault charges. He could have, and it would have been nothing more than another round of he said, she said… The town bad girl acting out against the star valedictorian.

Another round with another loss for her.

The end of the alley was mere steps away, the sunshine on the sidewalk her goal, when someone stepped around the corner and she jerked to a stop.

Images of vindictive mob-crews sent by Eric vanished as Joel Coleman blocked her path. She paused, making sure she was in position to run if needed. Not that Joel had ever done anything to threaten her, but being cautious was only smart.

“What?” If the word came out sharp and defensive, so be it.

Joel examined her carefully. “You okay?”

“Just peachy,” she lied, the sarcasm in her voice tinny and bright.

“Don’t fuck around,” he growled.

The words rumbled over her, dark and rough, and for once she allowed herself to look him over. To take in the broad width of his shoulders stretching his T-shirt. Massive biceps pushing the sleeves. Narrow waist and well-worn jeans, with a lighter patch right
there
where her gaze shouldn’t dwell. He shifted his weight, and the impulse to stare a little longer was hard to fight when his thighs and his…