HARD DRIVIN’ MAN, my newest over at http://www.total-e-bound.com/ out today, reflects my love of lively, funny, alpha with a Capital A, handsome-as-sin Texas men.
Now that I live in Texas, believe me, I have met quite a few hard drivin' men!!!!
Do you have one at home? How DO you handle him? Does he learn to be agreeable and if so, for what? And why?
Would love to know!
Come see if you like this one! He’s rancher with the hots for the gal next door who has always been elusive. And now?
Here’s a nibble of my newest cherry:
I need you. His eyes fell closed. I need you. Precisely the words he’d vowed to pay heaven and hell to get from Jessica Spencer Hardwick’s lush lips. Not precisely the reason for them today, but he could live with that. Work with that. He’d been wracking his brain trying to find a way to get her alone and talk to her while he was home here on leave. He had only one more week left to have his say. One more week before he had to let his commanding officer know of his decision to reenlist. One more week to tell her how he cared before he got too old and regretted his failure to pursue her. Here was his chance to take her away and declare to her what he wanted for half his lifetime.
All those nights freezing in the mountains north of Kandahar. All those days frying in the sun south of Bagdad. All the years he’d envied his brother Clint for being old enough, wise enough, to marry sassy, sexy, funny Jess.
Trey had tried to find a woman who matched her. The startling lime green eyes. The strawberry blonde curls. The lithe little body that moved like water.
Damn. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered about being between a rock and a painfully hard cock. Since he discovered he wanted her at the old age of fourteen, how many women had he tried to care for? Since he was old enough to vote, for pity sakes, how many women had he slept with and wished they were her? Too many to count. Senior year in high school. Up at Texas Tech. At so many of his duty posts State-side over the ten years he’d been enlisted. Try as he did, no one compared to the lovely, laughing memory of her down by the creek with him every Saturday morning. Or the vision of her standing in his kitchen with his brother Clint as they told his mother and father they were getting married. Soon. No, she hadn’t been pregnant, but they wanted each other. Badly. So they were bent on getting married right after they graduated high school. Her folks and his father had not approved, but Clint was determined to get her before any other guys did. The plan to marry had sounded good to both of them. But the best made plans can get a hitch in them, can’t they?
He inhaled. Hooked his hands in his belt loops and shook his head. What he wanted he meant to have. He’d suffered too much, fought too long for his country, seen too many of his buddies die without getting what they yearned for not to take the bull by the horns now. So he swung around and faced her.
Damn, what a sweet piece she was. No teased hair. No lipstick or eyeliner. No push-up bra. He harrumphed. Like she needed anything to look like the tastiest dish he’d ever wanted to eat up. Devour. Slowly.
“Trey?” She took a step forward, fear dimming her big beautiful eyes. “Please tell me if you’ll do let me bring my cattle over here to--”
“Oh, you bet I will, Jess.”
The smile she began with spread into a joyous grin. She clasped her hands. “Oh, Trey! Thank you! I—“
“But I need something in return.”
“Fair enough. I told you I’d pay. So name your price! I earned so much from my auction that I’m—”
“I don’t want your money.”
She tilted her head. “No? But Trey, I can pay for this. I’ve not only dug my ranch out of debt these past three years but I have savings. If I can get through this drought, I can build up this insemination business to a huge success.”
“I know you have done well.” He forced himself to stand there, look stern and not move a muscle. All the better to appear impervious. And win here.
“So then!” She spread her arms wide. “Why not let me pay you?”
“I want something else from you.”
Her hands fell to slap against her shapely thighs. “Name it.”
Oh, Christ, what if she refuses? “Two days and nights with you.”
Her lush lashes fluttered and her mouth worked at words. “Say that again.”
Steady, boy, let her come to you. “You heard me.”
Her brows knit. “To do what?”
(copyright 2010, Cerise Deland. All rights reserved.)