Title: Hometown Cowboy
Series: Rocky Mountain Riders #1
Author: Sara Richardson
Genre: Cowboy Romance
Publishers: Forever
(Feb 28, 2017)
Paperback: 368 pages
ISBN: 978-1455540754
Bestselling author Debbie Macomber fell for, “the combination of heartfelt emotion and undeniable sexiness,” in Sara Richardson’s debut No Better Man. She continues that tradition in HOMETOWN COWBOY (Forever / February 28), the first in Richardson’s new western contemporary romance series set in Colorado featuring bull-riding brothers.
Jessa Mae Love is done with relationships. No matter how tempting he might be, she cannot—will not—fall for a man like Lance Cortez. The outrageously handsome cowboy is practically a living legend in Colorado, as famous for riding bulls as he is for breaking hearts. What would a big-time rodeo star like him see in a small-town veterinarian who wears glasses, rescues animals, and cries when watching rom-coms? Turns out, plenty.
Raising bulls, riding the circuit, and looking after his ailing father—Lance never stands still for long. Yet Jessa catches his attention, and the more she tries to resist him, the more he wants her. When she agrees to move to the ranch to keep an eye on Lance's dad, Jessa tells him they have to keep it professional: no flirting, no sweet talk, and definitely no kissing. But with Jessa now living under his roof, that's easier said than done.
Jessa Mae Love is done with relationships. No matter how tempting he might be, she cannot—will not—fall for a man like Lance Cortez. The outrageously handsome cowboy is practically a living legend in Colorado, as famous for riding bulls as he is for breaking hearts. What would a big-time rodeo star like him see in a small-town veterinarian who wears glasses, rescues animals, and cries when watching rom-coms? Turns out, plenty.
Raising bulls, riding the circuit, and looking after his ailing father—Lance never stands still for long. Yet Jessa catches his attention, and the more she tries to resist him, the more he wants her. When she agrees to move to the ranch to keep an eye on Lance's dad, Jessa tells him they have to keep it professional: no flirting, no sweet talk, and definitely no kissing. But with Jessa now living under his roof, that's easier said than done.
“In the debut of her Rocky Mountain Riders series, Richardson creates an engaging small-town setting, filled with a richly detailed population, including two hurt and lonely protagonists, whose funny and moving journey together is sure to earn plenty of new fans…there is plenty to enjoy in this spirited heartwarming story." –RT Book Reviews
"[The] story is sensitive, charmingly funny, satisfyingly spicy, and dedicated to ensuring both protagonists grow to earn their lasting love. This will satisfy Richardson’s fans while welcoming new readers to a sweeping land of mountains, cowboys, and romance.” –
Publishers Weekly
EXCERPT
Holding her breath,
she stood perfectly still and
quiet—minus the loud drumbeat of her heart.
The knocking didn’t
stop.
“Hello?” A man’s deep rumbling voice sent her heart off to the races again. There
was something vaguely
familiar about it
. . .
“It’s Lance Cortez. I need to talk to you.”
Lance! Oh. Holy. No. This was not happening. She gazed longingly
at the other side of the living room to the safe darkness
of the tiny hallway that led to her bedroom.
There was no way she’d get through there without him seeing something. Like her ass, maybe.
Get the front door with the windows, the ignorant Home Depot salesman had advised. It’ll let in the most light. Yes, and now it would also give Lance a clear view of a very full moon.
She flattened her body against
the cabinets, craning
her neck, and sure enough,
he stood right
there on her front
porch, now peering through that lovely window
on the door. Oh, god. Her lungs heaved so hard it felt like the Bold Lift Bra was about to bust at the seams. Calm down, she in-
structed herself. He’ll
go away. He had to go away.
“Jessa! I know you’re in there. Your car’s here,” he called again, rapping the door with that big manly fist of his. “I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”
Tell me about it! Maybe she could
call 9-1-1 and have him
escorted off her porch . . .
Footsteps thudded on the front porch, moving closer.
Sweet lord! Lance
Cortez was peeking through
the bay window!
“Hang on a sec!” she yelled, then hit the deck, pressing her body against
the wood floor. Lifting
her head, she as- sessed
the distance to the hallway. It might as well have been twenty
miles.
Okay. Think. What would Naomi do? That was an easy one. She never would’ve gotten herself into this situation in the first place because Naomi had the ability to get dressed
without the assistance of coffee.
“Jessa, I really need a word,”
Lance called again.
“Be there in a minute!”
Despite the fact that she was basi- cally
naked, sweat itched on her back. Her
room. She had to get to her room. And there was only one way. She’d have to army crawl. As long as she stayed on this side of the couch, Lance probably wouldn’t
be able to see her from the win- dow. It was risky,
but what other option
did she have? He obviously wasn’t going away.
Here goes. Trying to remain one with the floor, she squirmed
forward, shimmying past the bookshelf. Squirm, pull, squirm, pull. She edged against the couch, bare skin grazing the cold wood planks.
Yes. Yes!
It was
working. Almost halfway now . . .
A scratch stung her hip as something
sharp caught the delicate strap of her thong.
Uh oh. Contorting her body, she tried to get a better look. A loose staple from the re-upholstery job she’d done on the
couch had hooked her adorable brand-new panties.
Cam it! She should’ve
known a staple gun wasn’t enough hold a couch cover
together. Thanks a lot, Pinterest.
“Jessa!” More
pounding.
“Hold on! Give me a minute!”
she called, trying
to wring the panic from her tone.
What the hell was his problem,
any- way? Couldn’t he take a hint? She pushed onto her side to free
herself from the staple, but her legs smacked
into the end table. The whole thing toppled over with a deafening
crash. Ow! Shit! She rolled over, gripping the backs of her calves. At the same time, the thong stretched, ripped, and snapped,
falling to the floor underneath her.
“Jessa?” Lance yelled
through the door. “What
was that?” The doorknob
clanged like he was trying
to get in. “Is every- thing okay?”
Hot tears filled her eyes. “Fine!” Minus the throbbing in her legs and the fact that she’d just shredded
a fifty-dollar thong.
“Are you sure?” he persisted, the sonofabitch. “That sounded bad. Is
the key still out here?”
The key? Oh, dear god, the key! Her dad had always left a house key underneath the
flowerpot . . .
A new wave of terror
surged, blinding her with white-hot fear.
The sound of metal clanged in the lock.
“No!” She squealed,
scrambling to hide herself behind a
small square throw pillow from the couch. “Please! Don’t come—”
The door sprang open.
Right as Lance stepped around the couch, she shifted the
pillow to cover her lower
hemisphere.
“What’re you—?” He halted like he’d been shot, his gaze bouncing
from her eyes to her bra and then, sure enough,
down to the pillow.
“Turn around! Cover your eyes,” she wailed. For the love of god! Humiliation curdled into anger. “Why’d you have to come in? Who just barges into someone’s house, huh?” Why couldn’t he have waited on the porch like
she’d asked?
“Uh . . . ”
He seemed to be frozen in place. “Sorry.
I heard the crash. Thought you were
hurt . . .”
Was he gawking? His lips had parted with surprise. And then there were his eyes. Wide and unblinking. Men didn’t
usually look at her like that . . .
“What the hell happened?” he asked, finally finding the decency
to turn around and stare out the bay window.
Securing the pillow against her lower abdomen with one hand, she covered her Boldly Lifted chest with her arm in case he decided to peek again. “I had a bit of an accident.”
She should make something
up. Something really exciting.
Something like she and a mystery
man were playing
this kinky game . . .
“Are you hurt?” Lance asked, his head swiveling toward her again.
She kept herself covered. Oh, yes. She was hurt. On more than one level. “I’m fi e,” she choked out. “Can you get my robe? It’s hanging up in the bathroom at the end of the hall.”
“Right. Your robe.”
He sort of side-shuffled his way down the hall and back, before tossing
the robe at her without
turn- ing around.
Clutching her salvation, she scurried up to a standing po- sition,
the backs of her calves still aching, and wrapped the fabric around her, tying the belt securely at her waist.
Lance peeked over his shoulder
as if to check on her, then turned all the way around.
She wasn’t
sure if she was out of breath due to the terrible thong ordeal or to the fact that the elusive Lance Cortez looked
so different up close.
She’s seen him around
town since she’d been back,
but she’d never looked at him that closely.
He’d never looked at her the way he was now, either. Eyes
open slightly wider than a normal person’s, lips parted like
he couldn’t remember what it was he’d
wanted to say.
Yes, well, neither
could she. Not with the sight of his dark hair, which curled slightly at the edges. It was mussed like he’d been nervously
running his hand through it all morning.
And those eyes. An arctic blue-gray. Cutting.
He wore a dark red flannel shirt with the sleeves pushed up over his bulky forearms. His jeans were faded and worn like he worked hard,
which she’d heard he did.
“So . . .” His voice had this deep soothing reverberation that made her want to curl up against him. “Did you fall or something?”
Or something. “I was in the kitchen
making coffee,” she informed
him, trying to smooth her hair into soft waves like it had been before she’d gone to battle with the couch. “Wasn’t expecting anyone to show up at my door . . . ” Espe- cially
the enigma that was Lance Cortez.
“So I panicked and was trying to get back to my room without giving you a show.” Which was clearly too much to ask from the uni- verse.
“Oh.” His gaze seemed
to fixate on the leopard-print thong that lay a mere two
feet from his boots.
As swiftly as possible, she swiped it off the floor and shoved it into the pocket
of her robe. “Um. Did you need something, Lance?” Because her humiliation meter was about tapped out for the day and it wasn’t even seven o’clock.
BUY THE BOOK HERE
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN RIDERS SERIES
HOMETOWN COWBOY, #1
COMEBACK COWBOY, #2
RENEGADE COWBOY, #3
Sara Richardson grew up chasing adventure in Colorado's rugged mountains. She's climbed to the top of a 14,000 foot peak at midnight, swum through Class IV rapids, completed her wilderness first-aid certification, and spent seven days at a time tromping through the wilderness with a thirty-pound backpack strapped to her shoulders.
Eventually Sara did the responsible thing and got an education in writing and journalism. After a brief stint in the corporate writing world, she stopped ignoring the voices in her head and started writing fiction. Now she uses her experience as a mountain adventure guide to write stories that incorporate adventure with romance. Still indulging her adventurous spirit, Sara lives and plays in Colorado with her saint of a husband and two young sons.
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