A sexy romantic comedy about a hot cowboy, some racy photos, and an accidental hook up—or three—with his best friend’s sister…
Sexy cowboy TJ Daniels loves Norse mythology, Marvel comics, horses, and dirty talk. Not necessarily in that order. When his brother signs him up for a new Bachelorette-Style reality show centered around a female star looking for love with a cowboy, TJ reluctantly agrees to do it, knowing that it will be great publicity for the ranch.
What he didn’t figure on is the show's photographer being Violet Brooks. Violet is TJ’s gun-toting best friend's little sister. She’s the same woman who left the small Montana town ten years ago and never looked back. And yep, she’s the same woman he lusted after when he shouldn’t have. And still does.
So when the pre-show marketing photo shoot involves channeling his inner underwear model—with Violet as the photographer—TJ ends up losing his shirt. His pants. And, if he’s willing to risk everything—including his place on the show that could save his struggling ranch—his heart could be on the line as well.
Kindle:
iBooks:
Kobo:
Nook:
Excerpt
I’ve never done drugs.
Okay, let me change that to, I’ve never done illegal drugs—the kinds of drugs that alter your perception of reality. I’ve never felt the need to.
But at this moment, my first thought is that God has rolled a massive joint and is blowing smoke in my face.
That’s the only explanation for why Violet is standing there, wearing cowboy boots and a lacy white dress that reveals mouthwatering long legs. Long legs that when I was a teen caused many a morning wood.
It’s all a delusion.
And since it is just a delusion, why shouldn’t I get to enjoy it some more?
I go back to checking out the view.
Violet’s shiny brown hair brushes against her bare shoulders. The hair I long to run my fingers through, to see if it feels as soft as it looks. The shoulders I crave to kiss, to lick, to taste.
Around her waist is the gift I gave her for her seventeenth birthday: a western leather belt with a horse’s head engraved on the buckle. In retrospect, the gift might not have been a good idea—if Austin’s comments back then were any indication. After he witnessed her innocently kissing my cheek, he pulled me aside and interrogated me. Interrogated me as to why I gave her the present. Interrogated me as to my intentions when it came to his sister—only he didn’t state it quite so nicely.
And then he made it clear what he would do to me if my thoughts about her were less than brotherly.
That was before he spent eight years in the military.
I’m sure he has since added to the list. Added newly acquired torture techniques. All with the Navy SEALs’ stamp of approval.
Let the fun times commence.
“This should be interesting,” Jake says, low enough so only I hear him. His tone is sitting on the fence. Cracking up is on one side, concern on the other. And right now, his tone is tottering more on the laughter side of things. “And by the way, you might want to close your mouth before it fills up with horseflies.”
I snap my mouth shut.
Guess that clarifies some stuff. I’m not suffering from a delusion.
I wished that Violet would return to Copper Creek and bam! My wish came true.
Except…I also prayed that the show would be canceled. So maybe my guardian angel or fairy godmother—or whatever the heck it is—is only a rookie. She could only finagle the first wish.
Oh, well. One out of two ain’t half-bad.
“What should be interesting?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off Violet, even though my brain is screeching, Mayday, mayday, mayday and demanding I look away.
“TJ,” Camilla says before Jake can reply. “This is Violet Brooks, our super talented photographer. Violet, this is our cowboy, TJ Daniels, and his brothers, Jake and Noah.” She points to each of them in turn.
That explains why Aubrey is here. She and Violet have been best friends as long as Austin and I have been the same. She knew Violet was part of the TV crew.
“We actually know each other,” Violet says. “TJ has been my brother’s best friend since we were kids.” Her gorgeous brown eyes, alive with flecks of amber, slide to me—and just like that, my knees have trouble remembering their function.
She smiles. Christ, how could I have forgotten what her smile does to me? Between that and those eyes, I’m surprised I remember how to speak.
Wait—I do remember how to speak, right?
“It’s great seeing you again.” Yes! I can still form a coherent sentence.
“You too.” She steps in for a hug and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Her breasts press against my chest, and I inwardly groan. Luckily, Austin isn’t here to witness this, or else the reality show would have some serious entertainment for its viewers.
My arms loop around her and threaten to never let go.
“I can’t believe how long it’s been since I last saw you,” she says so only I can hear her. Her arms remain around my neck. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. I was beginning to think the only way I’d ever see you again would be if I went to LA.”
The feel of her soft body against mine and the smell of her vanilla and rose perfume sparks a memory I’ve kept close all these years.
I had gone to her house to hang out with Austin. He was held up at his grandfather’s ranch, where he was working that summer. I was nineteen; Violet was seventeen.
She was dating a guy at the time. Some loser, if memory serves me correct. They were supposed to go out that night, but the dumbass forgot and stood her up for his buddies.
Violet was sitting on the porch steps, her shoulders slouched forward, her heart in her hand. I sat next to her, and she told me what happened.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered once she was finished.
My heart pinched at her words. How could she even believe for a second that something was wrong with her? Everything about her was right. The way she smelled like vanilla and roses. The way the world seemed a thousand times brighter whenever she smiled. The way she made me smile even when I was having a crappy day.
But I couldn’t tell her any of this.
Not if I valued my life and my friendship with Austin.
So I did the second best thing: I hugged her.
It only lasted a few seconds, but the memory of it has clung to me all these years like well-chewed gum on the bottom of your boot.
I reluctantly release Violet, who goes on to hug Jake and Noah.
Camilla’s face lights up. “You must have some juicy stories about TJ growing up,” she says to Violet. “What was he like?”
Amusement flares briefly in Violet’s eyes. But it’s gone too quickly for Camilla to notice. I only recognize it because I’m more than familiar with those juicy stories. Stories my old teacher Miss Truby would be delighted to share—if she was still with us.
Although now that I think about it, Miss H is still around. She was my high school English teacher.
Jake’s warning from earlier comes back for an encore.
Note to self: Make sure Camilla doesn’t track down Miss H. If my old teacher is given the chance to talk about my mischief-making days, I’m sure I’ll be painted as the villain on the TV show. While that would be a great way to avoid advancing to the next round, it won’t help us promote the ranch.
For a moment, Violet seems to consider Camilla’s question. “I’m assuming he hasn’t changed much since back then.” Her gaze sweeps over my body, much like Camilla’s did earlier. Except when her eyes land on my face, there’s a heat in them that wasn’t in Camilla’s.
But then it flickers away faster than a flame in a blizzard, and I can’t be a hundred percent certain I didn’t imagine it. I mean, we’re talking about Violet. I’ve never been anything but a big brother to her.
I brush the heat in her eyes off as nothing more than a hallucination—a hallucination brought on by seeing her again after she’s been away for so long.
Sounds like a reasonable explanation, right?
Bio:
Born in Brighton England, Stina Lindenblatt has lived in a number of countries, including England, the U.S, Finland, and Canada. This would explain her mixed up accent. In addition to writing fiction, she loves photography, especially the close-up variety, and currently lives in Calgary, Canada, with her husband and three kids.
Website: http://stinalindenblattauthor.com
No comments:
Post a Comment