I interrupt our previously scheduled Zimbabwe posts (which we’ll complete in May) with some exciting news. Cowboy Heat‘s release date jumped from June to March 18! Cowboy Heat: Western Romance for Women is another Delilah Devlin Collection which gathers short stories from fifteen talented authors, many of whom are NYT & USA Today Bestselling authors.
I have tons of neat things to share with you in this next series about the iconic heroes. We’ll discuss (my favorite) the horses, the chow, the tools of the trade, The West and the men who helped shape it.
For now, I’ll give you a sneak peak at my story.
A busted-up rodeo champion finds the squirt he tormented in youth transformed into a fiery woman challenging him to become the man she deserves
Gravel crunched under the massive pickup’s tires as it left smooth pavement behind. Barrett’s chest constricted in response. Breathing became hard. Hell, the rebellion his insides pitched was close kin to a panic attack, but cowboys, whole or broke down, didn’t have such weak-kneed reactions. The panorama before him of vast rolling hills, green, cow-sprinkled grass and wide-open sky was home. Six years away hadn’t dimmed its beauty or his affection. Barrett rolled his shoulders and shrugged off the vibe. Nothin’ to get riled about.
Barrett crested the first hill and knew he had every right to feel screwed up inside. Two sorrel mares, one a good hand taller and three hundred pounds stouter than the other, blocked the gravel driveway. A petite woman with long, strawberry, wind-whipped hair, wearing boots and chaps, sat astride the smaller horse. Her elegant jaw set in a familiar expression of stubborn rage.
“Holy shit!” The words left his mouth in a drawled whisper.
He halted the pickup and confronted her fierce gaze with his own. The air between them grew thick with tension like an ol’ western draw. Finally, she swirled a finger in the air, signaling him to roll down the window. Being a gentleman, he obliged.
She planted a delicate hand on her hip. “You didn’t really think you were gonna sneak back home while everybody’s gone to auction, did you?”
The air blew crisp and clean in his face as he draped one arm on the door. “Yeah, I’s countin’ on it actually.”
“Anyone you lookin’ to avoid?” she asked, straightening, her silky pink lips tightening.
That face, part angel, part nymph, never ceased to amaze him. Neither did the rest of her. His eyes dropped to her bite-sized breasts and his cock saluted, thickening in his jeans. “Naw.” His lips parted again, but the words died in an expelled breath. Too soon for all that.
Pale lids narrowed around flame-green eyes. Her nose twitched, drawing his attention to the spray of freckles that ran across its ridge and over delightful apple cheeks. Then her lips moved. “A wise man would, but since you aren’t—lookin’ to avoid anyone, that is—git your tush out of that truck before my panties melt off.”
Damn, if his chest didn’t tighten again. He pounded his fist against the sensation, adjusted his hat, and leaned closer to the fiery woman. “Excuse me?”
“That is the point of that sexy machine, to make women drop their drawers?”
The laugh came from deep inside, from a place so hidden light hadn’t touched it in years. “Sassy Britches, it’s been a while. You’ve changed, and then you haven’t.”
“Barrett Whitman, if you wanna make it home, you won’t call me that again. I don’t care if you are ‘The Bear,’ four-year-reignin’ National Rodeo Champion. Get your ass out the truck and on this horse.”
“Scarlett, you keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll be forced to tell your daddy. I’d hate for him to have to paddle your sweet bottom.”
She gave a girlie, “Huh!” and then wiggled narrow hips as she spoke. “If you’d been around, you’d know my daddy’s retired back home to Texas and your parents saw fit to put me in charge of the ranch. Now, scoot. Daylight’s wastin’, and we got some ground to cover.”
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