Thursday, March 16, 2017

Book Sale! Free Book!

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.


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.


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?

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Hot Cowboy Excerpt!

THE KNOCK BROUGHT Penn Jericho up from the couch where he’d been sitting in his dark living room, pondering the day and resting his aching muscles. His prosthetic foot clanked loudly against the wooden planks and anticipation grew wildly in him as he got closer to relief. It had been weeks since he’d found solace in the warmth of soft curves. He was long overdue.
Swinging the door open, he didn’t bother turning on the light as he reached out, grabbed a slender hand and dragged his earlier-than-expected-booty-call across the threshold. His body turned rock-solid, and he realized just how much he needed this. And because he wasn’t wearing any clothes, his cock saluted the sexy bombshell he pressed against the wall. She rewarded him with a whimper of surprise, yet he knew all too well how she liked it when he took control. Something dropped from her hand, hitting him on his ankle, but he didn’t care. Not. One. Shit. He had a one-track mind.
He nuzzled her hair, glad that she wore it straight and silky unlike her teased and fluffed style. Inhaling her scent, he paused. This wasn’t her usual smoke/alcohol combination from waiting tables at the honky tonk. No, this reminded him of a fresh batch of sugar cookies. He could eat a dozen, but for now, he’d settle on eating one delicious, wet cookie. He threaded his fingers in her soft hair and lowered his mouth, drawing his tongue along the seam of her lush lips. He tasted cherry.  This was turning into a scintillating buffet for his senses. “I thought I’d go crazy waiting on you, Saucy,” he whispered close to her ear as he molded his palm to her breast.
She stiffened. Now why would she do that? He pulled back slightly, only enough to look down at her through the shadows. The room was too dark to make out her features or expression, but he got the feeling she wasn’t her usual ready-and-willing self. They were like magnets when they came together and by now, she’d be ripping her sharp nails across his skin and begging him to take her fast and without mercy. He always obliged her.
He blew out a long breath. Maybe she wanted to play the role of the innocent virgin tonight. Or maybe he’d come on too strong right off the bat, but she never complained before. “Are you playing hard to get?” No answer. “What’s wrong?” His body deflated…some.
“If I was ‘Saucy’ I’d probably be into this.” The soft voice was tinged with a seductive accent and wasn’t high-pitched like Saucy’s southern twang. Every hair on his body stood at attention. Uh-oh.
What the fuck? He used the fingers of his free hand to brush over her forehead, following the delicate line of a smooth cheek, her chin, up to eyes, but almost knocked off glasses.
Since when did she wear glasses?
Shit! He removed his hand from her breast, but not before he noticed how hard her nipple was.
He wasn’t sure who he was groping, but it wasn’t his go-to beauty, Seneca. Rubbing his hand down the wall, he found the light switch and flipped it on. He met dark eyes, blinking wildly, framed in large, black glasses. He skimmed his gaze over her bewildered features. She had the palest complexion he’d ever seen. “You’re not Seneca,” he muttered.
“No, I’m not.” One thin brow popped up as she fixed her crooked frames. “For a Jericho who prides himself on being a top notch private detective, I’m quite disappointed in your skills. Good thing I’m not a maniac wielding a weapon or you’d be a goner.”
He swept his gaze lower between their bodies that were still pressed together. Her breasts were pushed up, spilling over the white lace of her bra exposed in the scooped neckline of the top, giving him a nice view of the ample, pale mounds. Her fingers rested lightly on his chest, right over the area of his heart that was trying to beat it’s way free. “The ‘no weapon’ is covered, but I’m not ruling out the ‘maniac’ part just yet. Who the hell are you?” Clearly, she was right about his lack of diligence. He’d been thinking with something other than his brain and a man knew that was always a big mistake. In his defense, no one ever came to visit him, especially here at Second Chances Ranch, unless they were invited. This lady wasn’t invited, at least not by him. Had she come to the ranch to see one of his brothers? Probably so. Penn was a bit envious.
“Now since you see I’m not packing, please remove your,” she cleared her throat, “body from my person. I’m very flattered, really I am, but you’re not my type.”
“You have the wrong house, lady,” he snorted.
“Penn, right?”
He hesitated. “Maybe.”
 One corner of her mouth lifted. “I’m Harley Tate.”
His balls tightened. How had he not recognized her? With a growl, he stepped back, pushing a hand through his still-damp hair. “Why the hell are you here? And a bigger question, how the hell did you know which house is mine?” If she’d stopped at any of his brothers’ places, they would have sent her back where she came from, or at least warned Penn that she was in the vicinity.
Her cool gaze strolled down his chest, his stomach, lingering for a long moment at his erection that didn’t get the message to back off. Her smile grew as she brought her eyes to his face. “Unless you’re showing off, which is a waste of time with me, why don’t you cover up and we’ll chat. Thinking is hard, literally, with that demanding all of the attention.” Her cheeks turned rosy.
He took several steps and grabbed the first thing he came to, a throw from the couch. Wrapping it around his hips, he held the material in place with one hand. Her stare was now focused on his prosthetic leg as if she’d just realized it was fake. He gritted his teeth. After his accident, he’d gotten used to stares, random questions, and people walking on eggshells because they weren’t sure how to take the ‘new’ Penn. However, she didn’t show any sign of awkwardness—only awareness. He’d never much cared what people thought, but for some reason, he was glad she didn’t show disgust or uneasiness. And he didn’t like it that he appreciated it, not one bit. “Lady, I have an office. Make an appointment.” Best to end this as soon as possible.
She pushed off the wall, cocked one hip in the skinny jeans, then crossed her arms over her waist, tapping the toe of her shoe on the floor in irritation. “That would have worked out just fine if you would have accepted any of my calls. I was tired of getting the run-around. Thankfully, your receptionist is tired of me calling too. She was kind enough to give me your address and describe your house, down to the old truck in the driveway and the red birdhouse hanging on the tree out front. Not that I wouldn’t have found it sooner or later, but sooner is better for my timeline. I’ve found that everyone knows you and your brothers around these parts. Available bachelors, rodeo stars, community heroes…” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m no longer a rodeo star, so I don’t give impromptu autographs.” He narrowed his gaze.

She laughed. “Whatever. I’m not here for your signature. That’s of no importance to me.”