Welcome to another round of My Sexy Saturday, where authors offer seven words, sentences, or paragraphs from their work for your entertainment. Be sure to click on the graphic at the bottom of the page and visit the other participants.
Time to switch gears – our next indie release, scheduled for October 15, will take us back to our roots, in romantic suspense. We’re launching Riders Up, a series set in the horse racing industry, with the release of Book One: Cassie’s Hope.
If you’ve been cruising e-books for a while, you may have run into two of the books from this series, published under our other pen name, Amanda Burns, a few years back. Our rights have been returned to us, and we’re thrilled to be finally able to let readers in on the story that got it all started, which we’ve scrubbed and polished from our novice first-time-writer efforts and turned into a compelling story that won fourth place at the Romance Junkies writing contest last fall.
Don’t worry, we’re not letting up at all on the steamy erotic scenes we’re known for – we’re just paying some much-needed attention to the two part of our byline, Erotic Romance for Two, Three, or More.
What happens when a fiercely loyal widowed half-Ute cowboy meets a fiery redhead with an Irish temper to match? Cassidy O’Hanlon – Cassie, to her friends – has set aside her Chicago career for six months to train racehorses for her dad after his stroke.
Furious the interloper has shipped in a ringer from the Chicago circuit to his Wyoming turf, Rancher/trainer Clint Travers sets out to put her in her place. Sparks fly immediately, but after their rocky start, the two quickly forge a passionate relationship, and he follows her to Chicago.
When it becomes clear someone is drugging Cassie’s horse, Clint sets out to solve the mystery, but storms off in a cloud of wounded pride when suspicions turn to him.
Can love trump pride?
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Here are seven paragraphs from their fiery first meeting:
Shaking her head, Cassie grabbed a hoof pick from her back pocket, lifted one of Hope’s front hooves and began extracting dirt and pebbles.
“Nice lookin’ filly.”
Cassie groaned at the strange deep voice and the too-familiar line. Couldn’t men anywhere be a little more original?
Dropping the hoof, Cassie glanced across Hope’s back and gasped. The deeply tanned hunk behind the voice had shoulders that stretched taut a pale yellow polo shirt covered, in part, with a thin buckskin vest. The wide cowboy buckle appeared unnecessary to hold up well contoured Levi’s. A sweat-stained brown Stetson, tipped low, cast a light shadow across his facial features. His worn boots were those of a working man. This was no drugstore cowboy.
He stepped closer. She could make out a scowl. Dark eyes snapped a foreboding anger. Raven black hair framed chiseled features, searing them into Cassie’s brain. Her toes curled involuntarily. She rubbed Hope’s coat vigorously. Who the hell was he? And to top it off, he didn’t even seem to notice her. His eyes appraised only the horse.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, ducking down by Hope’s flank.
The handsome stranger walked around the horse. “Very nice,” he drawled at last.
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