Five brothers. One ranch. Hold on...things are about to get rough and dirty.
Roman Jericho, and his brothers, are known in Texas for their striking good looks and skill as ranchers--among other things that keep the ladies hot on their tails. The last thing Roman wants, or needs, is another marriage that ends with an empty bank account and bed so he steers clear.
Relationship Guru, Pippa Wilder, is at the top of her career. Two bestselling, self-help books and speaking engagements all over the country, she offers advice that saves marriages. But if only her fans knew how upside down her own love life is. Relationship after relationship fizzled. When she sees tall, strapping, and handsome stroll into the lobby at the Vegas casino, she drops all logic into the slot, pulls the lever and watches her life spin in front of her. She's lost in smoky blue eyes and callused hands--and that husky Texas twang.
After falling in lust, they do something real crazy. They find themselves drunk on hormones, standing before an Elvis impersonator getting hitched. When all hell breaks loose in the media, to save her career Pippa must save her marriage.
Roman has always been the 'go-with-the-flow' type so when his 'wife' shows up on his ranch needing his help he's more than willing to oblige--especially if it means they'll be husband and wife in every way. He's got it bad for the petite, spitfire and can't seem to get enough.
Finding themselves smack-dab in the spotlight and on the cover of trash magazines, Roman isn't sure he's cut out to be in the public eye--he wants his wife, but he refuses to be called Mr. Pippa Wilder. Roman realizes it's time to make a choice...or take the lead. This could be fun, or very messy.
EXCERPT:
PIPPA WILDER
LOOKED up from her mini laptop and blinked away the fuzziness as she focused on
the cowboy strolling across the lobby of the Vegas casino. Pushing her glasses
up her nose, she dipped her gaze over black Stetson and a crisp white
button-down shirt that stretched for miles over wide shoulders, to his tight
buns that were God’s gift to denim. Now
this is a man who can wear a pair of Wranglers. She’d never quite seen a
man so tall…so built. Back in Chicago, the views were of a sea of business suits,
slicked back hair styles, and manicured hands, so seeing a cowboy was a breath
of fresh air. Her gaze naturally fell to his hands. He reached into his back
pocket, pulled out his billfold and dipped his long fingers in to grab some cash.
Big hands. Thick fingers. Mmm…
Her
inner thighs quivered, making her smile. She couldn’t remember the last time
she’d gotten turned on with a mere glance at a man. In her defense, this wasn’t
just any man. With each step he took,
each movement, he commanded attention. He exuded confidence, ability, and
power. A man with that much assurance would know how to please a woman, which
brought her attention to the large, shiny belt buckle at his waist. She wasn’t
close enough to make out the design. She’d have to get very close…
Bringing
her gaze upward, she met the most amazing blue stare. Dang! He was looking right at her. A heart-dropping grin tilted his
lips, and her cheeks were on fire. He’d caught her staring…at his—oh no! And he was humored.
Lowering
her eyes, she kept them glued to the screen, refusing to see where the cowboy
had wandered to. She wasn’t in Vegas to sample the local dessert, although she
was curious about the flavor. The urge to look was greater than the need to
breathe. Reaching for her Mojito, she sipped through the straw while subtly
scanning the tables. Disappointment slithered through her. He was gone. It was
for the best anyway. Placing her drink back down, she wiped the condensation
from her fingers onto her skirt and concentrated on answering the emails in her
inbox.
Today’s
speech had gone well, at least she hoped. Three-hundred people had attended the
workshop, How to Have the Dream Marriage.
After the class, she then signed hundreds of copies of her self-help books.
She
read the number of new emails and nibbled her bottom lip. Two-hundred-seventy.
Her manager had suggested that she hire a personal assistant to handle
correspondence with fans, but Pippa refused. If people took the time to write
to her, then they deserved a personal note in return. Usually, speaking at
conferences meant she would be bombarded with questions afterward. Some wanting
help in their marriage, or asking about her personal life. Others just wanted
to connect.
Clicking
on an email, she read…
“How are you a
relationship guru? You’ve never been married. Never had a serious relationship.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a relationship work? No, you
wouldn’t. So take your ideas, self-help theories, and shriveling ovaries and
jump off a cliff.”
She
skipped responding. Obviously, any answer she’d give would only fuel more
anger. With a click, another box opened.
“I know what you
need, baby. Have you ever had a southern-fried piece of meat? I’m looking for a
little lady to be the queen of my double-wide. And because I think you’re one
purty little thing, I’m sending you a complimentary picture. Hope you have a
place to go to dry up those parts that need a man.”
Not
bothering to look at the picture, Pippa closed the laptop and rubbed the bridge
of her nose.
And
sometimes she received hate mail and dirty pictures.
Usually,
comments like this would bounce off of her thick skin, but here lately, she’d
wondered herself how a thirty-two-year-old woman could give couples advice when
the longest, most intimate relationship she’d had was with her gynecologist,
and he only wanted to see her for her yearly exam.
“Bad
day?”
The
husky, Texas-twang reached Pippa’s ears and with palpable interest she lifted
her chin. Standing above her was the six-foot-two, at least two-hundred pounds
of muscle, cowboy—the very same one she’d copped a visual feel of moments ago.
Her center warmed and her nipples tightened. Clearing her throat, she hoped her
voice worked. “I’ve had better.”
“Can
I buy you another drink?”
“I
haven’t finished this one yet.” His eyes were the brightest blue she’d ever
seen and, up close, he was much more handsome. And out of simple curiosity, the
buckle had a longhorn with the name ‘Jericho’ engraved in the metal. She racked
her brain. Where had she heard that name before?
“Care
if I sit?”
Sexy Cowboy wants
to sit with me? This
couldn’t be happening. She wasn’t sure her shriveling ovaries could take being
in close proximity to lethal masculinity. Her shoulders slumped. It was true,
she hadn’t had sex in two years and her libido just happened to be on
auto-pilot this afternoon.
“If
you’re expecting someone…,” he said with a grin.
“Sure.
I mean—no, I’m not expecting anyone. Have a seat.” She removed her reading
glasses and dropped them into her purse, giving her hair a quick toss over her
shoulder and her lips moisture from a sweep of her tongue as he pulled the
chair out beside her. The seat almost seemed too small for his body.
The
temperature rose by ten degrees. Grabbing her drink, she polished it off.
He
lifted the beer bottle and drank. She watched his lips close around the rim and
a vision of him kissing her muddled her brain. “Are you here for business?”
She
swallowed. “How’d you know?”
“The
laptop sort of gives it away.” He chuckled, a rich sound that played the
invisible strings between her nipples and core like a violin.
Yeah,
two years without sex made her a sitting duck. “I-I was just finishing up some
last minute details. How about you? Here for the gambling?”
He
rubbed his chin and his callused fingers against thick stubble made a splendid
sound, making her heart feel like she’d run a marathon. “Business myself. I
thought I recognized you. Do I know you?”
She
doubted that he had read one of her self-help books. A man like this didn’t
need any help. If she’d ever met him before, she’d remember—oh how she’d
remember. So, that left the life-sized picture of her that the promoters had
planted at the doorway to the conference room. Although she thought the picture
was a poor resemblance of her, he probably saw the likeness. Yet she made it a
habit not to introduce herself as Pippa Wilder, the relationship guru. It
tended to intimidate men. People expected her to have her shit in order. That was
laughable. “No, don’t think we know each other. I’m Pippa.”
“Roman.”
He held out his large hand.
Staring
at his fingers for the longest time before slipping her palm against his, she
liked the warmth. Just as she thought, calluses covered his skin. This was a
man who worked with his hands, a lot. And by the tightness of his ass, she’d
also say he was in the saddle enough to create buns of steel. Why did these two
things zap a jolt of electricity straight to her center? If she didn’t control
herself, she was going to have to change her panties. “Nice to meet you,
Roman.”
“Do
you have plans later this evening?”
She
blinked. Had she missed something here? “I…well…”
He
grinned. “Nothing gets a person in a better mood quicker than the rodeo.” He
lifted his beer and emptied the bottle. “You should come out to the fairgrounds
later. I think you’d have a good time.”
“Well,
I sort of have something I’m supposed to do.”
“Too
bad.” He held her gaze for a long, breathtaking second before placing his
bottle on the table and standing. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a
meeting. If your plans change, come on out. I’ll be there.” He winked.
“Will
you be riding?”
“Not
tonight. Nice meeting you, darlin’.”
She
watched him stroll across the lobby, looking as good going as coming, and
apparently everyone agreed. All heads turned, male and female, as he exited the
glass doors.
What the hell just
happened?
All
in a matter of minutes, her world was turned upside down by a handsome
stranger. Then he asked her to meet him at the fairgrounds? For a clandestine
date? No…that’s not what he meant. He was only being courteous, wanting to help
improve her mood. Plain and simple. Anyway, she couldn’t possibly make it to
the rodeo. She had a flight back to Chicago to make and an early morning
meeting that she couldn’t cancel—could she?
She
looked down at her laptop and sighed.
Since
adulthood, she’d done everything she was supposed to do in life. She’d
concentrated on her career, never swaying from the responsible, stable path.
She was a sad case for sure. It was true, her ovaries were shriveling up.
Reacting to Roman was the most action her body parts below the waist had in a
long time.
Growing
up as an only child, her parents had showered her with love and attention. They
were her role models of a happy and respectful marriage. When she told them
she’d decided to study marriage counseling in college, they had supported her,
encouraged her every step of the way. When she finished graduate school, they’d
been there, proud of her accomplishment. After she’d written her first book and
it had made the bestseller’s list, they’d celebrated by throwing a party for
family and friends. Never once had they asked why she never brought men home to
meet them, but she could see the question in their eyes. Pippa just wasn’t
relationship material. She had one focus—work.
She
looked at the doors where Roman had left. He was a temptation without a doubt.
A light drawing her in.
Reaching
for her glasses, she slipped them on, then dialed a number on her cell. It was
answered on the first ring. “Sal, cancel my flight. Something’s come up.” She
hit end before her business manager asked any questions.
Tonight
she wasn’t Pippa Wilder, the relationship expert. She would be the girl without
responsibility, and be fun and carefree. She giggled at the mere thought.
FREE!!! FREE!!!FREE!!!
The oldest of three sisters, Jewels Stone takes care of everyone, especially those she loves. When she finds out the youngest Stone is duped, she plans to rope and wrangle the cowboy to teach him a lesson on how to treat a woman.
Tied to a bedpost and as mad as a hornet, Spark Ryder wants to toss Jewels over his knee and spank her. Problem is, he’d enjoy it too much. Held hostage by rope and wax strips, he tries to convince her that she has the wrong cowboy. But how can he convince her that he’s innocent when she’s out to settle a score against all men?
While seeking revenge, Jewels finds a passion that’ll have her hanging by a dream. The pressure is too much and loose threads holding the past begin to unravel. Her brain urges her to run while her heart wishes to stay.
Spark wants nothing but distance with Jewels, but when things start to heat up on the Rhinestone Ranch, he samples Jewels’ treasure and finds himself on the wrong end of the rope again—but it’s his soul that’s bound to a woman who will never trust.
He wants to stitch her broken heart, but will he walk before his own heart is in need of mending?
Tied to a bedpost and as mad as a hornet, Spark Ryder wants to toss Jewels over his knee and spank her. Problem is, he’d enjoy it too much. Held hostage by rope and wax strips, he tries to convince her that she has the wrong cowboy. But how can he convince her that he’s innocent when she’s out to settle a score against all men?
While seeking revenge, Jewels finds a passion that’ll have her hanging by a dream. The pressure is too much and loose threads holding the past begin to unravel. Her brain urges her to run while her heart wishes to stay.
Spark wants nothing but distance with Jewels, but when things start to heat up on the Rhinestone Ranch, he samples Jewels’ treasure and finds himself on the wrong end of the rope again—but it’s his soul that’s bound to a woman who will never trust.
He wants to stitch her broken heart, but will he walk before his own heart is in need of mending?
