Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (34 page)

To his delight, Brant discovers that his long-suppressed need to dominate brings out the best in the standoffish vixen. Yet her reluctance to completely let down her guard stands in the way of total bliss…until an accident exposes her deepest vulnerability.

Warning: Contains teeth-grinding desire between a spank-me-please blonde bombshell and a closet Dom who knows how to straighten her out. You may never look at an orthodontist’s chair the same way again.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Lip Lock:

Whir-thump-thump. Whir-thump-thump.
Dr. Brant Foxfire tilted the shopping cart off its back wheels and let it slam into the floor.

A woman who was scowling at the small-town grocer’s cereal selection looked up at the sound.

“Sorry,” he said as he pushed by her. “Noisy wheels.”

“Oh, these carts are so old.” Her face wreathed in the false smiles he saw too damn often from women. As the only orthodontist in Reedy, Wyoming, he got plenty of female attention when mothers paraded their crooked-toothed kids into his office. And the women at the coffee shop or diner he frequented all made it a point to display their charms. More often than not he got eyefuls of flesh he had no desire to see.

While this attention flattered him, he wasn’t in the business of chasing skirts like some of the local cowboys. Long ago, he’d sworn to keep out of the beds of Reedy residents. It was too easy to ignite rumors, which for a professional man could be the equivalent of career assassination.

Whir-thump-thump.

Goddamn cart. Couldn’t he just have a peaceful trip to the store for coffee and a frozen tray of lasagna without that whirring noise? He heard enough of it in the office from all the gadgets used to suction and clean patients’ teeth. While he loved his job, he didn’t get away from it often enough. Fifty-hour workweeks and no distractions at home…

He jerked as a woman passed the end of the aisle, carrying a plastic shopping basket over her arm.

Brant’s chest constricted a little at the sight of her long blonde braid straggling over one shoulder, the soft end kissing the curve of her full breast. Who was she? In a small town like this, he knew just about everyone, from the older citizens who frequented the coffee shop just down the street from his office to every member of the police force. And who could forget all the women he knew but didn’t want to know better?

But this woman was mid-height with all the curves and secretive allure of Marilyn Monroe. Fuck yeah, he would have remembered seeing her.

The lady perusing the cereal was staring at him, and she had that look. The one that said she was hungry for some man-prey.

Shit.

“Excuse me.” He quickly wheeled his
whir-thumping
cart past her. She grinned and struck a pose with a box of granola like a model in an ad.

In the main aisle leading to the two cash registers in Brenniman’s store, Brant spotted her again. His Marilyn. She wore a white, curve-skimming summer dress that clung to her hips when she walked. For a moment, he stared at her round ass, battling an arousal he hadn’t felt in far too long.

He might be a bachelor by choice, but he was far from dead. And this woman could raise a man from his grave.

Or from another dark pit? Brant pushed back this thought with a low grunt. He wasn’t going to think about tying this woman up or laying the flat of his hand against that lush ass of hers. It wasn’t normal, and he wasn’t sinking into that quicksand again.

The cart wheel locked up completely, and he gave it a swift kick. Then, scooping his food items out of the basket, he abandoned the cart altogether. Glancing up, he caught a glimpse of Marilyn taking her place in the checkout line. She was wedged between a mother with three kids in the back of a cartful of diapers and Franklin Worthy, an eccentric cowboy painter. And he could tell by the way Franklin looked at Marilyn that Brant wasn’t the only one to find her inspirational.

“Hello, Franklin.” Brant crowded into line.

Franklin’s head was tipped down, his gaze obviously clinging to Marilyn’s shapely calves. Possessiveness flared inside Brant. Would Marilyn catch Franklin staring and let the playboy engage her in conversation? Lots of women fell for Franklin. With his long hair, French cigarettes and perfectly paint-splattered clothes, he ensnared women like cowboys roped cattle.

But not her.
She’s off-limits.

For a long minute, Brant stared down at Marilyn’s bare toes peeking from her leather sandals. Christ, the woman was wearing silver toe rings. Lurid images of pulling those off with his teeth slithered through his head. He also envisioned different silver ornaments—shackles for her wrists and ankles.

No. He would not—could not—entertain those ideas. He’d left all that behind years ago when he’d lost his last girlfriend over his need to control in the bedroom.

Franklin didn’t respond to Brant’s greeting, so he ignored the painter too and instead focused on Marilyn. She was unloading her shopping basket onto the counter. Bags of beans and rice, a small amount of ground beef. A candy bar and a bag of sunflower seeds.

The corner of Brant’s mouth tugged with a smile. Sunflower seeds?

When she presented her profile, he studied her delicate jaw and upturned nose. The cashier gave Marilyn the total, and her long lashes swooped over her cheeks as she turned her attention to her purse. Her face, devoid of makeup, was country girl Marilyn before Hollywood dolled her up.

She dug through her purse and came out with a bank card. When she swiped it, Brant swore she shivered.

Gazing at her openly now, he fought to control the feelings she aroused in him. He wanted to throw himself in front of her, shield her from the leering Franklin Worthy and the frowning cashier.

“I’m sorry, but your card’s been declined. Do you have another form of payment?”

Marilyn’s face mottled red, and Brant’s heart strained toward her. Eyes averted from the cashier and the customers in line behind her, she flicked through her wallet and came out with a few bills.

“Take these off.” She pointed to the sunflower seeds, the beans and the candy bar.

“Sure thing.” The cashier gave her a new total, and Marilyn passed her the bills.

When the cashier dropped a few coins of change onto Marilyn’s open palm, Brant’s throat tightened. Suddenly, the urge to fill that little hand up was so strong, it dizzied him.

Had he ever felt this way? The need to protect, possess, care for and claim all at once?

Marilyn grabbed her single shopping bag and hurried toward the exit. Everything in Brant’s body screamed to stop her, to ask her name and to buy her sunflower seeds.

But Franklin Worthy blocked his path, gaping at Marilyn too.

Brant nudged his shoulder with more force than necessary. “You’re next, Franklin.”

The man shot him a narrow look and began to move down the line.

In the parking lot, Brant realized he’d missed Marilyn. She’d vanished from his life as quickly as she’d come. Except she’d left him with that burning loneliness and the yearning to be more to someone.

Coming once, coming twice…SOLD!

Boots and Roses

© 2013 Myla Jackson

Ugly Stick Saloon
,
Book 5

Bunny Leigh really shouldn’t care that her ex is days away from getting remarried. Yet the fact he’s getting hitched to the woman he cheated on her with stings more than she cares to admit.

It’s that sting that drives her to impulsively throw a bid in the annual Ugly Stick Saloon Cowboy Auction. To her surprise, she lands not only one of the best-looking men in the tri-county area, but two. The prospect of keeping up with two younger men has the shy florist quaking in her flower pots.

Little does she know, best friends Cory McBride and Jack Monahan made doubly sure their favorite florist won them both. But now they have their work cut out for them, convincing her they want more than one steamy night. They want a chance at forever.

Warning: A cop, a cowboy and a flower shop owner make the petals fly! And look what happens when the Ferris wheel stops at the top. Bring a fan, the heat’s rising at the Ugly Stick Saloon.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Boots and Roses:
 

For forty-five minutes, Bunny left the paddle on the bar, refusing to give in to her loneliness and bid on a paid-for pity date. One by one the men paraded around the stage, women bid and the gavel banged. One by one the chance for a date passed and Bunny slipped deeper into a blue funk.

Her lips still tingled from the contact with Cory’s and Jack’s, and she raised her hand to touch her mouth. No vibrator had affected her as much as those earth-shaking kisses. Once again, Bunny considered Audrey’s words. Maybe it was time for her to get out in the dating pool again and give love a second chance.

“Hold on to your belt buckles, ladies,” Charli said with a flourish. “Here to introduce the final act, the woman who made the Cowboy Auction possible, Audrey Anderson.”

Audrey stepped up on the stage with Deputy Monahan holding her arm. The owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon took the microphone from Charli and faced the crowd, her face straight, serious. “Ladies, it’s been brought to my attention that we’ve had several instances of sexual misconduct against our own Deputy Jack Monahan. I ask you to please keep your hands to yourself and respect the man who was brought here to keep the peace.”

One woman yelled, “Boo!”

The room full of women joined her, all shouting, “Boo!”

Bunny smiled. If she wasn’t mistaken, Audrey had something up her sleeve and she was playing the audience.

Audrey winked. “Oh, so you like playing dirty?”

As one, the women yelled, “Hell, yeah!”

“Then let’s raise the stakes. For the first time in Cowboy Auction history, we’re offering up a two-fer.”

The ladies roared their approval.

Despite her resolve to remain unaffected by the goings on in the saloon, Bunny leaned forward, a tingle of anticipation rippling through her body. Cory hadn’t been offered up for auction yet and he’d hinted at a surprise. Was this it?

“All our cowboys have been fabulous sports about this auction, but the last bidding opportunity we’re offering tonight is special and near and dear to my heart. Please welcome the two-fer deal of Cory ‘The stripper so hot you’ll singe your fingers’ McBride…”

Cory danced out on the stage, wearing a vest, boots and leather chaps over a black G-string. The only thing not showing was his package, and it was swelled enough to give every woman enough information to go on. The man was hung.

Bunny sucked in a breath and held it while her pulse pounded so loud she could barely hear herself think. Her deliveryman had been in her sex dreams and fantasies more and more often lately. Now this… Holy smokin’ cowboys!

Audrey continued, “The other half of this dynamic duo is our very own man of peace, Deputy ‘Pull over and let me frisk you’ Jack Monahan!” Audrey handed the microphone back to Charli.

Deputy Monahan joined Cory center stage, slipping his uniform shirt off, exposing shoulders as broad as Cory’s and equally tanned and gleaming with a fine layer of oil.

Holy rock stars!
Between the Adonis blond beauty that was Cory and the dark, rugged sex appeal of Jack, Bunny could barely breathe.

The crowd exploded in a frenzy, all the paddles raising in the air as the bidding started.

Bunny perched on the edge of her stool, her body trembling.

The two men danced around the stage in sync to bump-and-grind music barely audible over the cacophony of women yelling and whistling.

Bidding started at five hundred dollars and shot up from there.

Not that I’m interested in bidding
. Bunny mentally calculated what she had in her bank account.

Audrey handed the numbered paddle to Bunny. “I’ll match you dollar for dollar.” She shrugged. “I won’t keep one of them, but I want to contribute to the cause. This way I can, and Jackson won’t have heartburn about it.”

“I can’t bid on those two. I wouldn’t know what to do with one man, much less two!”

Audrey’s brows rose. “Seriously? Oh, honey, you really do need to get out more often. Did I ever tell you about the day I danced for Jackson, Mark and Luke on Jackson’s thirtieth birthday?” She tugged at the front of her shirt. “And I don’t mean two-stepping.” Audrey fanned herself. “Making me hot just thinkin’ about it.”

“Audrey, you’re much more free-spirited. I’m…I’m…” Bunny glanced down at the paddle in her hand. “Not.”

A soft hand rested on Bunny’s shoulder and Audrey leaned close. “How do you know if you’ve never tried to be?”

Bunny shrugged. “I’ve always focused on getting my business going, getting my finances straight—”

“Puttin’ your lousy ex-husband through school. Yeah, I can see where that gotcha.” Audrey shook her head. “That’s all well and good when it comes to running a business, but what about givin’ yourself a second chance at love?”

“I don’t need a second chance. Once was bad enough. I don’t think I’m ready to float that boat again.” Although the two men on the stage could more than set her sails. Holy hell, they were built like brick houses, all muscle—hard, finely chiseled muscle.