Contents
Cover
Story Blurb
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
About the Author
About Grantitude Press
About the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation
Dear Reader
Other books by Janet Wellington
Excerpt HOMECOMING
Excerpt UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL
COWBOY FOR SALE—a Second-Chances Spicy Romance
All I need is one cowboy for one night.
Salon manager Lacey Murdock has to find a handsome single cowboy fast! And he has to be willing to be auctioned off...for charity, of course! So, what’s a girl to do but go boot-scootin’ and cowboy huntin’ at San Diego’s most popular country music club. There she runs smack into Jared Dillon. Tall, dark, and definitely handsome, Jared is the kind of man any woman would want to date—and he’s perfect for the bachelor auction. Too bad he’s married...
Or is he?
Single dad Jared loves his young daughter more than anything, and has worked hard to create an idyllic life on his alpaca ranch, just the two of them. The last thing he needs is to get involved with another single-minded career woman used to the big city lights instead of star-filled skies. Pretty Lacey’s the kind of woman who is off limits for more reasons than he can count. But why can’t he stop thinking about her? Nope. She’s just not for him...
Or is she?
When one of the bachelor cowboys is a no-show at the charity auction, Jared steps in at the last minute and gallantly saves the day. One thing leads to another and Lacey and Jared are off on a romantic Dream Date Weekend at a mountain getaway designed for cozy evenings by the fire and luxurious nights in a four-poster bed.
Trouble is, Lacey’s not looking for a man, let alone a much-too-hot cowboy. Her career is right on track and she’s finally bouncing back from a bad breakup. No matter how he makes her feel, Jared definitely doesn’t fit her logical list of “must haves.” There’s sizzling chemistry, for sure, but she’s vowed she’ll never fall for another single father again. Losing at love is one thing, but losing the love of a child...that’s quite another...and a heartbreak she won’t go through again.
But....add together: champagne, a hot tub, a dangerous game of twenty-questions, a romantic fire and two lonely hearts…and the delicious trouble begins. Jared knows falling for Lacey isn’t the right thing for him or his little girl...but how’s a cowboy supposed to resist?
COWBOY FOR SALE
By
Janet Wellington
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
COWBOY FOR SALE
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Copyright © 2013; Revised October 2013 Janet Wellington. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Grantitude Press
Grant + Gratitude = Where Every Book Includes a Gift
A percentage of the author’s royalties for COWBOY FOR SALE will be donated to the
Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation
Cover Designed by Janet Wellington
Photo credits
Alpacas: Gregory Johnston/dreamstime.com;
Cowboy: Cover Photo of Model Jimmy Thomas by RomanceNovelCovers.com
Logo: Janet Wellington
Lyrics to Sugar Plum Serenade used with permission by Lil Rev
Written by: Lil Rev. From the Ukulele album: The Happiest Way To Be Sad
Available at: www.lilrev.com (Visit “Storefront” to listen to snippets from each album!)
Version 2013 Kindle Edition
Dedicated to RM, for sharing my love of alpacas,
and for her constant support of my writing…and my heart.
Acknowledgments
It’s always fun to acknowledge others who have helped me along the way. But, there are so many!
My mother must come first—an amazing woman who is still teaching after 70 years! She is truly a role model and has always been someone who believes I can do anything I set my mind to. That helps, believe me.
My writing roots reach deeply into the San Diego Chapter of Romance Writers of America, as well as the Orange County RWA Chapter. I’ve spent many days absorbing everything presenters had to offer at chapter meetings and conferences I’ve attended. Writers are typically a generous group, and I have been privileged to know many who have shared so much—I’d need an ebook to name them all!
And to you, dear readers—thank you for giving me a reason to write!
Chapter One
All I need is one cowboy for one night.
Lacey Murdock closed her eyes and focused on this one thought as she waited in her car in the parking lot of the Rockin' Ranch, one of San Diego’s most popular country music clubs. Early, as usual, she planned to use the extra time to calm herself and fight the beginnings of a nasty little panic attack.
Her present state? Her heart thundered and felt like it was ready to jump out of her chest. Her mouth was parched. Cotton mouth, she thought.
She unfastened her seat belt. Suddenly it felt much too confining, the shoulder belt threatening to literally choke the courage out of her.
I can do this.
Forcing herself to breathe several even breaths, she powered down the window, immediately feeling relief as the balmy evening air cooled her clammy skin.
Tilting the rear view mirror toward her she stared, taking a critical look at herself.
At least her hair had behaved today—her thick, wavy dark hair fell to the middle of her back and shone with newly foiled deep auburn highlights she’d had done a few days ago by the latest stylist she’d hired. A generous spritz of spray gel so far was keeping her hair’s tendency to frizz to a minimum, even with the humidity of the warm night.
In the mirror she stared at her carefully made-up face—the pale lavender eye shadow made her hazel eyes look green in the dim light. She reached up and blended the color with the tip of her little finger and checked for eyeliner smudges. Her makeup application was much heavier than she was used to wearing and the colors a shade brighter. Her salon�
�s esthetician had insisted on doing her face before she’d left that evening, convincing her it was just the look she’d need in the dim light of a club.
Ironic. I spend every day helping men and women enhance their looks, try new things, and I just can't quite transfer the idea to me.
Shaking her head, she readjusted the mirror then pulled the keys from the ignition and slipped them in the pocket of her skirt. Then she draped the skinny strap of her new, tiny “going out” purse over her shoulder. Her stomach tightened with nervousness.
I just need to relax, replace the oxygen, breathe deeply five times.
Lacey stayed in the car just long enough to take five measured breaths. The technique almost always helped to calm her nerves and she used it many times during her busy day—whenever there was a difficult salon client, whenever the cash drawer wouldn't balance, whenever she had to counsel one of the other stylists.
Why am I so nervous?
Old habits die hard, she decided. She’d spent too many years feeling insecure, doubting her abilities and decisions. And that feeling was all too familiar tonight. Shoot, anyone looking at her life would definitely see quite a few false starts. Like most of the women she knew who hadn’t gotten married and started families, she’d followed a traditional route of going to college and working a variety of jobs. Somehow, though, it hadn’t felt quite right. Nothing made her feel fulfilled.
The day she’d decided to turn her back on what she thought she was supposed to be doing and followed her bliss instead, she finally started feeling successful. Her confidence had blossomed.
Now at the age of thirty-five she was finally making a decent living as the working manager of a mall-based upscale hair salon in a quiet suburb of San Diego. And she'd managed to survive a pretty rough year—mostly by working hard, keeping herself distracted, and surrounding herself with happy people. People who really cared about her. Finally she felt like she was “in a good place.”
Tonight, though, her new calm was being challenged and the breathing exercise didn't seem to help much.
Now, standing outside the car, she listened. The music and conversation drifting out the open windows of the Rockin’ Ranch was loud—and a tad too cheerful for her current precarious mood. She’d much rather be home reading a book or watching a DVD...anything but what she was doing right now. How long had it been since she’d…what?…put herself out there?
Not that that was exactly what she was doing tonight. Not really. But she just might have to at least pretend to be doing that, she admitted. She grimaced and shook her head, not at all ready for the flirting, being charming, acting interested. Way too soon…
Still, she was good at creating a persona. She’d done it most of her life, actually. Tonight she’d simply have to do that too…if she had to. Could she?
Laughter drew her attention to a couple standing near the front door, the man’s arm wrapped around his date’s waist pulling her tight against him. Not a good prospect…if not taken, definitely involved.
Her gaze shifted to the building that housed the Rockin’ Ranch. It mimicked a barn, but had a wide porch that wrapped around the front and extended around the side and bordered the back parking lot. Over-sized rustic chairs and benches lined the porch, ready and waiting for couples looking for a break from the heat of the dance floor. A few bent-willow loveseats were already filled with early arrivals, many of the women sitting on the laps of their dates.
As Lacey crossed the parking lot, she saw that most of the men waiting outside or sitting on chairs sported a standard western look: cowboy hat, boots, and jeans. Tight jeans that accentuated long legs and trim waists. It had been quite a while since she'd even wanted to look—to even notice—and tonight she found herself actually examining the men.
Definite prospects.
Bringing her fingertips to her face, she hoped the dark concealed the blush she felt creeping up her neck and landing at her cheeks.
Kandy, where are you?
She scanned the parking lot for a pink Jeep. No sign of it. One of her best stylists, who had also become a good friend, Kandy had volunteered to meet her there tonight. It had made the whole task seem immediately more doable.
Where are you?
Kandy was habitually late to work and even though Lacey was accustomed to it—and even adjusted the appointment book to accommodate it—at this very minute she didn't relish the idea of going into the Rockin’ Ranch to cowboy hunt alone. Sure, she could go back and wait in her car, but just sitting there would probably make her more nervous, and what if she lost her nerve completely?
Forward. She silently commanded her feet to move and as she approached the bar’s wraparound porch with her head held high and her lips in a well-practiced smile, she silently recited her new mantra: I can do this, I can do this.
She took another deep breath. Along with oxygen came a lovely fragrance of night blooming jasmine. A tall hedge of the potent flowers bordered the back of the parking lot. Maybe Kandy had parked back there. It was certainly worth a look and gave her a valid excuse not to head toward the bar’s entrance, her feigned confidence beginning to waver already.
Climbing up a set of steps and onto the wraparound porch, Lacey casually glanced at some of the men, calculating if they might be approachable later. A few seemed like definite “no’s” but there were definitely a few men who had possibilities. Maybe this wouldn’t take as long as she imagined.
Lacey kept walking, following the porch around to the rear of the building where it widened into a large wooden deck adjacent to the club's back door. A van was being unloaded nearby and she scooted to a far corner of the deck to get out of the way. Two men hurriedly carried a large amplifier up the steps and into the doorway, obviously on their way to the stage inside.
On the side of the van Lacey could make out the words “Southern Comfort.” The band was local, she knew, and popular. Kandy claimed they were the best country band around and she was a bit of a groupie, with a fresh crush on the lead singer. She’d suggested coming to the Rockin’ Ranch, and now she understood why.
The place was lousy with cowboys, for sure.
Instantly feeling more comfortable in the dim light and now totally alone on the deck, she listened to the recorded music that drifted outside. Brad Paisley, maybe? Swaying to the music she attempted a simple two-step she remembered from when she had taken a country dance class a few years ago—her last attempt at boosting her social skills. It had been fun because a few other stylists had taken the class as well, and it had been good exercise. But she hadn’t really enjoyed the bar scene enough to continue.
She lost the beat and stopped. Listening more closely, she caught it again, counting quietly out loud. “One-two, one...two. One-two, one...two.”
Closing her eyes she lifted her arms, visualizing an imaginary partner there. Her biggest fear was that she would end up stumbling awkwardly through her first dance. She assumed she’d need to…interact…with any prospective cowboys, and that most likely meant dancing. It had been a long time since she'd been out on a dance floor, let alone dancing something as specific as a two-step, rudimentary as it was. Eyes still closed, she continued to move rhythmically, dancing blindly into the middle of the deck, counting softly to keep herself in step.
***
Jared Dillon ran long, calloused fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to tame its wildness. Long days outside in the weather rendered an almost permanent windblown look. Subtle blond highlights blended with the gray that had become more prominent in his brown hair since he'd reached forty.
He sighed and shook his head. He was already impatient for the evening to be over, even though he was grateful for the extra money the summer gig would provide. Even for short periods of time, he had trouble leaving his mountain and ranch behind. And Jamie.
Truth was, he didn't particularly like being on stage, though playing bass in a country band was about as easy a job as he could imagine. No, he was much happier without four walls surro
unding him, and besides, deep in his bones he knew he'd go absolutely insane if he didn't spend at least part of every day outside. Even though times were tough sometimes, he knew he'd made the right choice in buying the ranch east of San Diego.
Being his own boss, setting his own hours, taking time to do the job right—each was important to him. Even though he had the pressure of being totally responsible for every little detail, he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd grown to prefer the solitude, the freedom. No one to interfere, no one trying to change things. And he was successful enough, he kept assuring his family and friends. He had grown his alpaca herd to fifty and between breeding and selling the raw fiber, he made a decent living and was content.
And there was something about the creatures themselves that he had grown to love. And, thankfully, Jamie did too.
Only for the summer, he reminded himself, already feeling a little claustrophobic just anticipating being stuck in the corner of the crowded stage playing a borrowed bass guitar with one of San Diego’s most popular country bands.
Jared locked up his truck and as he walked across the parking lot his gaze stopped on a woman two-stepping on the deck to the music that drifted out the back door. It was evident he was about to interrupt a practice session and although he knew he should make some noise in warning, he couldn't bring himself to disrupt the vision of her innocent solo dance.
Instead, he noiselessly positioned himself at the top of the stairs of the deck, crossed his arms, and watched. Her eyes tightly closed, he took advantage and openly stared. She wore short red cowboy boots that looked brand new, making him wonder if it was her first time at the club. He watched her full black skirt do a dance of its own above her knees, swirling around shapely legs. His gaze moved upward to her sleeveless, ruffled white cotton blouse that hinted at the curve of full breasts but without the deep plunging neckline most of the women wore to the Rockin’ Ranch.
COWBOY FOR SALE--A Second-Chances Spicy Romance Page 1
