by Carly Bloom
Copyright © 2021 Carol Pavliska
Cover design by Sarah Congdon.
Cover photography by Rob Lang.
Cover copyright © 2021 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Author photograph © Karen Kuplack
The right of Carly Bloom to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Published by arrangement with Forever, A division of Grand Central Publishing.
First published in this Ebook edition in 2021
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 6300 1
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Also by Carly Bloom
Praise for Carly Bloom
About the Book
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
Don᾿t miss Big Bad Cowboy
Try Cowboy Come Home, another Once Upon a Time in Texas novel
Find out more from Headline Eternal
About the Author
Carly Bloom began her writing career as a family humor columnist and blogger, a pursuit she abandoned when her children grew old enough to literally die from embarrassment. To save their delicate lives, Carly turned to penning steamy, contemporary romance. The kind with bare chests on the covers.
Carly and her husband raise their mortified brood of offspring on a cattle ranch in South Texas. Also? Carly is vegan. The cows love her.
To find out more about Carly, visit her website at www.carlybloombooks.com, find her on Facebook www.facebook.com/authorcarlybloom and follow her on Twitter @carlybloombooks and Instagram @carlybloombooks.
Also by Carly Bloom
Once Upon A Time In Texas
Big Bad Cowboy
Cowboy Come Home
Must Love Cowboys
Praise for the Once Upon a Time in Texas series:
‘Sexy, smart, sensational’
Lori Wilde, New York Times bestselling author
‘Big Bad Cowboy is sweet and sexy!’
Jennifer Ryan, New York Times bestselling author
‘Fans of Susan Elizabeth Phillips will delight in this funny, optimistic, quirky contemporary’
Publishers Weekly, starred review
‘Bloom has invented a place we want to hang up our hat and kick up our spurs any time she’s got a story to tell’
Entertainment Weekly
About the Book
Beau Montgomery is living his best life . . . until he’s left in charge of Rancho Cañada Verde. With his dyslexia, he’d choose a saddle over spreadsheets any day. His best hope is to ask the town librarian for tutoring. Only he’s had a crush on the book-loving beauty since his junior high days – and despite being a smooth talker, he can’t help getting tongue-tied every time they meet.
Alice Martin doesn’t regret putting her career above personal relationships – but when Beau comes to her for help, Alice decides to see what she’s been missing. She’ll improve Beau’s reading skills if the handsome cowboy teaches her how to flirt and agrees to be her date to an upcoming wedding. But when the town’s gossip mill gets going, they’re forced into a fake romance to keep their deal a secret. Soon Alice is seeing Beau in a whole new way . . . can she turn their imaginary story into a real-life happy-ever-after?
To Ellie and Camille, the boldest, strongest, and smartest heroines
I’ve ever created.
Acknowledgements
What can I say? I wrote a book during a pandemic. And kudos to you, by the way, if you completed anything during the year of our Lord 2020. Seriously. Raise your glass if you made your bed or a sandwich, because you’re a winner.
My biggest thank-you goes to my editor, Junessa Viloria, who managed to scoot me and this book across the finish line without ever uttering the word deadline. She’s an author whisperer, and working with her is an utter delight.
Thank you to my copyeditor, Lori Paximadis, for getting down to the nitty-gritty with such aplomb (if I used that word incorrectly, she’ll no doubt tell me), and to Bob Castillo for making sure that I’m happy with every single word. Extra-special thanks to Estelle Hallick for loving Big Verde and working so hard to promote my books. She’s spectacularly creative and fun, and she’s still my favorite Disney princess. Finally, thank you to my agent, Paige Wheeler, for always believing in me and my work.
Writing can be lonely for an extrovert (even when there’s no pandemic), so I leaned heavily on a few folks to keep me energized and motivated. First, thank you to my family, who became my captive audience during quarantine. Their support never wavered, even when I had to break the news that they were my new social circle.
Thank you to Jessica Snyder, who literally babysat me every morning while I drafted (via Zoom). If she didn’t hear the keys clacking, she cracked the whip. She calls herself a writing coach, but she’s more of a dominatrix.
Thank you to my community of writers, especially Amy Bearce, who was always available for a Zoom chat. As usual, she read every word of every version of this book, and she did it cheerfully. Thank you to Sam Tschida and the writers at Smut U, some of whom relentlessly wrote through wildfires in addition to a pandemic. I’m lucky to have them as cohorts. Thanks to Alison Bliss and Kamau Khary for their willingness to cyber-sprint with me when I didn’t want to write alone, and to Erin Quinn, Sasha Summers, Jo
lene Navarro, Patricia Walters-Fischer, and Teri Wilson for their readiness to lend an ear.
Thank you to my assistant, Jenn Jaeger, and to my readers’ group, Carly’s Bloomers, for entertaining and encouraging me, particularly Gemma, Kristen, Anne, Brittni, and Addie. I love to write, but I especially enjoy doing it for them.
Last, but certainly not least, thank you to my readers. Big Verde is my escape and my refuge, and I love so very much that you join me there. Let’s have lunch together soon at the Corner Café.
Chapter
One
Alice Martin was wide awake, and the rest of the guests at the Village Chateau probably were, too. It was a fancy hotel—the nicest one in town—but it was also old, and the walls and ceilings were paper-thin.
Hopefully, the violently rocking ceiling fan was properly secured.
Oh GOD! Don’t stop, baby . . .
Baby didn’t stop.
Alice rolled over, put a pillow over her head, and tried to ignore the wedding hookup happening in the room above. She should have gone home after Casey and Jessica’s reception instead of spending the night in Carmen’s suite. But she’d had a bit of champagne, and besides, she liked hanging out with Carmen, despite them not knowing each other all that well.
On the surface, Alice and Carmen couldn’t be more different. Carmen was a blue-haired, pierced, and tattooed celebrity chef with her own television show, Funky Fusions. And Alice was a brown-haired, single-pierced (each earlobe), and completely untattooed small-town librarian.
But in the town of Big Verde, neither of them quite fit in.
During a brief visit to Big Verde a couple of years ago, Carmen had bought the Village Chateau’s struggling restaurant, renaming it Chateau Bleu. She lived in Houston and didn’t come to town much—Jessica managed the restaurant—but she kept a suite at the hotel for when she did. The folks of Big Verde considered her a rare and exotic creature.
As for Alice, the folks of Big Verde seemed to find her rather odd, too. They were nice enough. Truly, they were. But Alice had never felt like she belonged. Maybe that’s why she preferred to keep her nose stuck in a book.
Nevertheless, small-town etiquette dictated that nobody ever be left out, so Alice was invited to every graduation ceremony, birthday party, baby shower, and wedding. And because small-town etiquette also dictated that invitations be graciously accepted, Alice went to every graduation ceremony, birthday party, baby shower, and wedding.
She bit her lip and frowned. Brittany Fox’s wedding was only six weeks away. And even though Alice usually flew solo at weddings (she was intentionally and deliberately single), she’d need a date for that one.
Brittany was the library’s intern, and over the past two months she’d gone from a lovely ray of sunshine to the absolute worst bridezilla Big Verde had ever seen. And the “and Guest” she’d written on Alice’s invitation—calligraphy with gold-infused ink—seemed to be more of a command than a polite suggestion.
Alice would typically ignore such a command. But Brittany was fueled by a combination of stubbornness and wedding-planning stress hormones. She cried easily, which made Alice uncomfortable, and she insisted that an odd number of guests made seating charts impossible. She’d made it her mission to find Alice a date, parading nearly every single man in the county through the library, which was awkward and disruptive.
Must Love Cowboys would be the motto of Big Verde’s dating scene (if it had a dating scene), and although Alice had nothing against cowboys, she didn’t have much in common with them. Nor did she have anything in common with Brittany’s balding uncle, who, despite having recently found a cure for his hyperhidrosis—sweaty palms—was not anyone she wanted to spend time with. And he was who Brittany was currently threatening to fix her up with.
Alice needed a date for the wedding. But it would be a man of her own choosing. Preferably a non-sweaty one.
She groaned loudly into her pillow. All the men she knew were engaged or married. Such was life at thirty-two in a small town. Holy guacamole, who could she possibly take?
The lump of covers in bed next to her moved. “I can’t tell if that noise was you or the woman upstairs,” Carmen said. “If it was you, you’re having more fun than I am.”
“It was me. And I’m not having fun.”
The ceiling fan was still rocking, so at least somebody was.
Scuffling sounds came from the nightstand as Carmen patted it down in search of the lamp switch. The unmistakable sound of a beverage falling over was followed by a whispered dammit.
The light came on, and Alice and Carmen squinted at each other. Then Carmen gasped and picked up a pair of Spanx off the floor to frantically slap at the bright red liquid edging toward their cell phones.
“I doubt that’s very absorbent,” Alice said, reaching over Carmen and snatching her phone out of the way.
Carmen, who had won a tequila shot contest with a young cowboy earlier in the evening, dropped the undergarment and flopped back onto the mattress. Her short hair stuck up in all directions, and she looked like a slightly deranged Cookie Monster. “Sorry. I opened that can and forgot about it. I heard energy drinks will prevent a hangover.”
Alice climbed out of bed and hurried to the bathroom for a washcloth. Then she began wiping down the nightstand and floor. Her dress, draped over the back of a chair, was splattered with bright red spots. “Dang it. This is going to stain.”
“Sorry. I’ll have it cleaned,” Carmen mumbled.
“You don’t need to do that,” Alice said. “It was an accident.”
Carmen sat up to protest, but the woman upstairs started some interesting vocalizations. They stared at the ceiling.
“You don’t think he’s killing her, do you?” Alice asked.
“No. But I think she’s died and gone to heaven at least three times already.”
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God . . .
“And she seems very religious,” Alice said.
Carmen giggled. “It’ll be over soon. He can’t last much longer.”
Alice held up a finger. “Actually, the average male lasts anywhere from four to six minutes during intercourse. But alcohol can reduce sensation, thereby making it more difficult to climax.”
“Let’s hope he’s not drunk. Also, did you know you’re like a walking, talking Wikipedia?”
It might have been mentioned once or twice, but Alice couldn’t help it. Spouting facts had been her solution to shyness as a child, and it had become a habit. She was curious by nature, and as a librarian, she had ample access to all kinds of interesting and uninteresting facts about everything.
Facts were facts. Feelings were . . . messy. Why did people always want to talk about them?
Carmen checked her phone. “God. It’s nearly two o’clock. And I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Jessica will be off on her honeymoon, and half the restaurant staff is going to call in sick with wedding hangovers.”
“Maybe you can call in sick with a wedding hangover, too?”
Carmen looked at the ceiling. “Nope. How long do you think someone can go with a numb penis?”
“Probably pretty long.” Alice picked up her stained dress and slipped it over her camisole and undies. “I’m going up there.”
Carmen got out of bed. “Up where?”
“We’re in room 118. They must be in 218. I’m going to let them know they’re keeping everyone awake.”
The ceiling fan began rocking faster, and the woman upstairs moaned with more urgency. Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Hold on. Maybe they’re about done.”
Alice stared into Carmen’s bloodshot eyes, and they both held their breath.
There was a long, piercing scream . . .
“Okay. Now he really has killed her,” Carmen said. “Call nine-one-one.”
Alice put a finger to her lips, and then . . . Silence. Beautiful, sweet silence.
Carmen started a slow clap. “Bravo!” she shouted at the ceiling.
Alice started to remove h
er dress. “Whew! I think he’s finally spent.”
Upstairs, a bed squeaked loudly. Voices murmured. And then . . .
The banging started.
“Oh my God,” Carmen said. “I think they’ve just changed positions. Maybe they’ve gone doggie.”
“It’s unlikely she’ll achieve another orgasm that way,” Alice said. “Fewer than nine percent of women report being able to do so.”
Carmen just stared at her. “I think I did once.”
“You’re drunk,” Alice said. “Get back in bed.”
“But—”
Alice opened the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She climbed the stairs at the end of the hall and marched directly to room 218. Then she knocked and waited while tapping her bare foot, because dang it, she’d forgotten to put on shoes. Also, things were super quiet. Maybe they were done—
A bare chest suddenly opened the door. At least that’s how it seemed. There were probably other body parts as well—a head and legs, for example. But she only noticed the chest, which was muscular, naked, and taking up the entire doorway. She and the chest were eyeball-to-nipple, which was awkward, yet somehow fascinating, and it took a bit of effort to drag her gaze higher, where it landed on a pair of bright blue eyes.
An irritating tingle sparked at the base of her spine and worked its way up to her mouth, where it came out as “Oh. It’s you.”
The source of the ruckus was Beau Montgomery. Not surprising.
Beau raised his eyebrows and ran a hand through his tousled sandy-blond hair. “Are you lost, Allie Cat?”
A lot of people couldn’t tell Beau from his twin brother, Bryce. But Alice could. For one thing, nobody but Beau used that childish nickname for her. For another, Bryce wouldn’t be inconsiderate enough to keep everyone awake with noisy, obnoxious sex. Also, Beau’s face was thinner. And his chin cleft was just a tad deeper.
“Of course I’m not lost.”
“Then might I ask why you’re knocking on my door in the middle of the night?” His eyes drifted lazily up and down her red-stained dress. “And did you kill somebody?”
