Thank you for being a reader. Thank you for choosing to spend some of your precious personal time curled up with a book. Without you I would never have the opportunity to write.
See we have a symbiotic relationship. Without readers there would be no demand for books which would mean authors wouldn’t have an opportunity to get paid for sharing our stories. And, without authors there would be nothing to read. We need each other. One sustains the other.
So, thank you!
As an author I am responsible for marketing my books. This is true whether I self-publish or go with a major traditional publisher. And whereas there is only one of me (who also has a day job!) and thousands upon thousands of readers, plus we have that naturally symbiotic relationship, I have a proposition to make.
I need you. You who has read any one of my titles and said, “wow, that was great!” or “I need to read the next book!”. You who can’t help but tell all your friends about the latest book you’ve read–ad nauseum–and you who has so much to say about books you started your own blog.
I need you on my team. Each and everyone of you. Because I can’t do it alone, and the truth is the more people who read my books and the more marketing that happens without me, the more books I can write. And, the more books I can write the more books you have to read.
So, if you love my books, would be interested in a deeper look inside the writing process, would like to be the first to see excerpts, covers, and other bits of news, then you need to become a Siren!
Want to know more? Go get the details here. If you aren’t ready to commit, that’s okay too. Maybe commit to some other author’s street team and share the love. Are you already on one or more street teams? What do you love about being a part of one? Never heard of a street team? Ask a question!
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***Warning: This story contains one dominant cowboy and the lady that will test his control. It also includes spanking, dominance, submission, bondage, and anal sex.***
Cassie Truhart is too busy with life and the Golden Mustang Dude Ranch to worry about love. Especially since her fiancé dumped her for an easier life in the city. Elbow deep in horseshit, she never expects to meet a man capable of commanding not only her attention, but possibly her love.
Trent Jones agreed to a blind date to appease his pesky younger sister. He never imagined finding a woman that would rouse every dominant instinct he possessed, much less love. Good thing his real date cancelled at the last minute.
As Cassie and Trent indulge their strong sexual attraction, he must discover if one night with a cowboy is long enough for him to claim his cowgirl.
Cassie bent over and jammed the shovel into the smelly mix of hay and horse dung. The pungent odor hung heavy in the air as she flung the shovelful of mixture into the wheelbarrow. Almost done.
The streaming rays of sun licked the barn through the open door. Ownership of the Golden Mustang Dude Ranch was everything she’d dreamed of and more, with one small exception. Her ex-fiancé had ridden off into the sunset—without the girl. He’d lasted two months before declaring he couldn’t handle ranch life.
Cassie snorted. Ranch life.
The dude ranch was so far removed from real ranch life it wasn’t worth the effort to explain. The Mustang made good money from the guests that came for the atmosphere. Very few vacationers sought out a real ranch experience. They came to use the spa and lounge by the pool. In winter they came for the snow and the pageantry of Christmas. Most folks weren’t looking for anything more ranch-like than a short jaunt on horseback.
If this were a real ranch, the animals they cared for would be their life’s blood instead of relegated to ambiance. The last of the dirty hay landed in the wheelbarrow. Cassie wiped the sweat off her brow and set down the shovel. With a solid grip, she lifted the barrow and headed toward the compost pile. Hay and horseshit mixed with kitchen scraps made fantastic dirt. Back in the barn, she spread fresh hay in all the stalls she’d cleaned. The raspy rumble of a masculine throat clearing startled her.
“Shit! Do you always sneak up on people like that?” She returned to spreading hay.
“Sorry, ma’am.” He tipped his hat in a mingled greeting-apology.
“No worries. I was probably over-focused on a simple task.” She glanced back and smiled at him. Whoa. That was a real cowboy. Not some duded-up city boy. Worn jeans molded to strong thighs. His shirt fit him like it was made for him, and the Stetson on his head would have looked wrong anyplace else. She stopped spreading hay and faced the stranger. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I was hoping to get in a quick ride. Feeling kind of antsy.” He let his gaze drift down her body in a slow, blatant appraisal.
Claiming His Cowgirl Tour Schedule
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