Gone Country: Rough Riders, Book 14

by Lorelei James

  “When did you talk to Rory?” Rielle asked.

  “This morning. We went to DQ and then up to Flat Top.”

  “Rory is here?”

  “Yeah. She’s in the kitchen. You didn’t know that?”

  Rielle shook her head. “What did she say?”

  “Basically she told me I was a whiny-ass spoiled baby and to knock it off and think of someone besides myself for a change.”

  Somehow Gavin kept his jaw from hitting the dirt.

  “When I talked to Marin she said the same thing; quit acting so childish and selfish.” Sierra snorted. “Which is kinda funny because she begged me not to move and that was selfish of her, but whatever.”

  Gavin had agonized over the decision for a solid day. He hadn’t slept or eaten…and all it’d taken to change Sierra’s mind were Rory and Marin telling her…to grow up and not act spoiled?

  Unbelievable.

  That was parenting—he could talk until he was blue in the face and then one of her friends would made the same suggestion he had and suddenly…wow, that was the best idea in the history of the world.

  But he sure as hell wouldn’t complain that his daughter had come to the right decision, regardless of how it’d come about.

  “Dad? Are you listening?”

  “Sure. Can you give me an idea on what you want to talk about when you get back?”

  “Like…I want to try out for the cheerleading team. That’ll mean practices after school and cheering at games on the weekends and stuff.”

  “That sounds doable, as long as Doc Monroe gives you the okay and you keep your grades up.” He could tell she wanted to roll her eyes—bonus points for her for resisting.

  “Also, I want to get a job. Either one that pays me or doing volunteer work. Marin pointed out that I sounded so entitled whenever I complained I was bored. So we’re gonna try and get jobs at Dairy Queen because that’s where everyone goes.”

  Sounded like Marin had put the screws to his headstrong daughter and he reminded himself peer pressure was sometimes a good thing. “I’d agree to that, but the same rule about—”

  “My grades applies, yeah, I get it, okay?”

  “That’s plenty to keep you from being bored first semester.”

  “There is something else I’d like to do and it’s a pretty big thing.” Sierra jammed her hands further into her pockets. “I want to legally change my last name to McKay. When I was doing research on the McKays…it just clicked that it was my heritage. No offense, but I didn’t know your dad, so his last name means nothing to me, especially since you were adopted. But I do know what Grandpa Charlie means to me. The McKay name means something around here. That’s who I’m part of. And I want everyone to know it. Besides, most the people in my school already call me McKay anyway.”

  Shocked, but oddly pleased, he hugged her. “Sweetheart. If that’s really what you want…”

  “It is. I want to make it Grandpa’s birthday present. So I’ll tell him first, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s perfect.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yep. I want a pony.”

  Gavin snorted. “Nice try, but no.”

  Sierra grinned. “I thought I’d give it a shot.” Then she paused. “So, are we okay?”

  Gavin looked at Rielle. “Are we?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, yes. But your dad and I have something else to discuss with you later.”

  “Cool. Oh, the other reason I came outside, besides Rory nagging me to freakin’ death about marching down here and facing the music, was to tell you that your martini is done. She said to hurry up because she didn’t like drinking alone. But I told her it might be a while because I had groveling to do. A lot of groveling to do.”

  “What kind did she make?”

  “I volunteered to taste test it, but she turned me down. Then she snapped me in the butt with a towel and told me to get my ass moving. She’s so bossy. I’ll tell her you’re both on your way.” Sierra jogged up the driveway. Sadie and Jingle came from out of nowhere and ran alongside her.

  “They’re already fighting like sisters,” Rielle said with amusement.

  “Does that make you happy?” he asked.

  “Very. But there’s gonna be some fireworks when they start advising me about my wedding dress.”

  “Can’t we just sneak off to Vegas and get married?”

  Rielle shook her head. “They’d never forgive us if they didn’t get to be part of the wedding. Heck, they’ll plan the whole damn thing, most likely.”

  He kissed her. “I don’t care what kind of wedding we have, just as long as our daughters aren’t part of the honeymoon planning.”

  “Really? So the tycoon won’t mind if it’s an old-fashioned country wedding—held in the barn, with hay bales for pews, followed by a hoe-down?”

  “Nope. I’ll even wear a bolo tie, a Stetson, Wranglers and shitkickers if you want.”

  She laughed. “I like you a little country, but that sexy citified vibe does it for me in a bad way, so I definitely want you in a black tuxedo.”

  “Done.” Gavin kissed her again. “Let’s go back to the honeymoon. I want to take you someplace exotic. For at least two weeks.”

  “I assume you’ll insist on paying for it entirely?”

  He growled, “That is not even up for discussion. And trust me, it’s going to be spectacular. I won’t spare any expense when it comes to you.”

  “Speaking of…” Rielle poked him in the chest. “You’d better not buy me some big tacky diamond.”

  “Tacky? Never. I have great taste. Big? Absolutely. I’m thinking it’ll be at least seven carats.”

  A pause.

  “That’s a whole lot of carrots,” they said in unison, and laughed in unison.

  “We’re such punny dorks.”

  “Yep.” Gavin pulled her into his arms and rested his forehead to hers. “I love everything about you, Ree. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, I do. I love everything about you too.”

  Grinning, Gavin plucked her up and swung her in a circle until she shrieked at him to let her down. He whispered, “Never,” and carried her home.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Lorelei James, read her Author Notes on this and other titles, and see a McKay family tree, please visit www.loreleijames.com. Send an email to lorelei@loreleijames.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Lorelei:

  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LoreleiJamesGang

  Look for these titles by Lorelei James

  Now Available:

  Rough Riders

  Long Hard Ride

  Rode Hard, Put Up Wet

  Cowgirl Up and Ride

  Tied Up, Tied Down

  Rough, Raw, and Ready

  Branded As Trouble

  Shoulda Been A Cowboy

  All Jacked Up

  Raising Kane

  Slow Ride

  Cowgirls Don’t Cry

  Chasin’ Eight

  Cowboy Casanova

  Kissin’ Tell

  Gone Country

  Wild West Boys

  Mistress Christmas

  Miss Firecracker

  Anthologies

  Wild Ride: Strong, Silent Type

  Three’s Company: Wicked Garden

  Beginnings: Babe in the Woods

  Running With the Devil

  Dirty Deeds

  Coming Soon:

  Redneck Romeo

  She’s got the rhythm, but he’s got all the right moves.

  Ballroom Blitz

  © 2012 Lorelei James

  A Two to Tango Story

  After years on the road, rock drummer Jon White Feather is home from tour to reassess his music career. When his shy niece begs him to take a ballroom dancing class, Jon agrees, aware he’s not Fred Astaire material. Still, it stings when his sexy-hot instructor—who makes his heart do the cha-cha—deals his ego a
low blow: he has no rhythm.

  Maggie Buchanan is doing everything to make ends meet since her IT career fizzled, including teaching couples dancing at the community center. She’s prepared for anything—except her immediate attraction to the bad boy rocker who doesn’t know his right foot from his left.

  As Jon sets out to prove he can rock his body—and hers—their sexual chemistry burns a path across the dance floor, straight to the bedroom. And Maggie wasn’t expecting a man with limited dance skills would know exactly how to sweep her off her feet.

  Warning: Sweet and hot…this couple knows how to bump and grind.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Ballroom Blitz:

  But the second night was more of the same torture. Jon was hapless and Raven tried not to act annoyed or mortified about the extra attention they received from the instructors because of his screw ups.

  However, Jon certainly didn’t mind having Maggie’s soft curves pressed against him as she walked him through the dance steps. The woman was an enigma; confidently giving instructions to the entire class and yet blushing so prettily when they were pressed body to body. He was actually sorry when class ended.

  After the rest of the students took off, Jon noticed Raven wasn’t racing out the door, but in deep conversation with Seth. He wandered over to where Maggie sat on the bench, changing shoes.

  “So it is true,” he said, sitting sideways on the bleachers beside her.

  Maggie glanced up. “What is true?”

  “There is such a thing as putting on your dancing shoes.” Lame, Jon.

  “Different types of dancing shoes for different dances. Probably like you use different drums for different parts of a song?”

  “You’d be correct.” He angled forward. “So while I’ve got you alone…give it to me straight. Am I failing class?”

  The corners of her lips curled into a smile even as she remained focused on buckling her shoe. “This isn’t a pass-fail situation. I’m giving you an A for extra effort.” Maggie’s eyes met his briefly before her attention drifted to his arms. Her gaze started at his wrist and moved up to his bicep. “I’ll admit I’ve been admiring your cool tattoos during class.”

  “Do you have any tats?”

  “No. Never had much chance to see artwork designs up close to see what my options are.”

  He held his arms out. “Go ahead and take a closer look if you want. See if there’s anything you like.” Feel free to touch as much as you want.

  Her eyes clearly broadcast I want, even if her alluring mouth stayed closed.

  The first tentative touch on his forearm was potent as an electric charge. He held himself still, willing that charge not to travel straight to his dick.

  Her cheeks were flushed. Her blue eyes bright. Tendrils of reddish-blond hair had escaped from her tight bun, tempting Jon to loosen it completely and crush the soft stands in his hands. Or smooth the strands back into place just to touch that creamy-looking skin. Maggie unsettled him. She was wholesome looking and a little shy—not his usual type. So his immediate attraction to her was baffling. Not unwelcome, just confusing. Question was, did she feel the same pull?

  Yes, if he went by the way her hand trembled when she touched him.

  When her soft fingertip drifted over the crease of his arm, he bit back a growl. Oblivious to his response, she continued the northerly progression, one hand clamped around his wrist, the other hand driving him out of his mind with a mix of innocent curiosity and overt sensuality.

  “Are these marks tribal symbols?” she asked, continually caressing the same section of black swirls and scrolls.

  “I told a buddy of mine who’s an artist I wanted markings with a tribal feel, but more artistic. So they don’t mean anything specific.”

  “So it’s wearable art that’s unique to you.” Her thumb swept across the stylized barbed wire motif on his bicep. “Even if the design was used on another person it wouldn’t look the same. Your skin coloring gives it a different dimension. As does your musculature.” She ran a fingernail on the underside of his arm. “Your biceps and triceps are amazing.”

  “I can’t take credit for that.”

  “I’m pretty sure you weren’t born with all these muscles.” Maggie looked at him, as if startled by what she’d said.

  When she attempted to remove her hand, Jon placed his palm over hers. “Thank you. Most of the time I get grief for the tats. I’m happy to hear a beautiful woman appreciates them.”

  “I do.” She wet her lips and her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  Sweet Jesus. She was killing him. Everything about her embodied soft and sweet—her hands, her mouth, her eyes, her tender touch. Which ironically enough, made him hard as a fucking drumstick.

  “Maggie?” Seth called out.

  They both jerked back.

  “Yes, Seth?” she said a little breathlessly.

  “Can you show Raven a couple of steps?”

  Maggie said, “Sure,” and stood. She faced him. “Truly magnificent, Jon.”

  “Glad you like them.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the tattoos.” Then she spun, leaving him staring after her.

  Whoa. That comment had dripped with sexual sizzle.

  Hmm. Maybe Maggie Buchanan wasn’t as soft and sweet as he first believed.

  To win her heart, he’ll have to touch off her internal combustion.

  Overdrive

  © 2012 Chloe Cole

  Even after ten long years, Frankie Sepkaski’s success as the best vintage car mechanic around still hasn’t overcome her teenage rep as a promiscuous troublemaker. No matter how tempting the prospect, the last thing Mac Galbraith needs is for her to take him out for a spin. Especially since his family thinks he should be looking for a prospective wife among the local socialites, not slumming with a grease monkey.

  Mac likes vintage rides, but buying a new one every month just to have an excuse to see his ridiculously sexy mechanic in her overalls? That’s pathetic. When she finally says yes to his date offer, he’s not fooled. It’s only because she has every intention of using him to indulge her fantasies—then walking away. But Mac knows something else: underneath her bad-girl persona is a woman worth her weight in lug nuts.

  It might take a crowbar to get her to admit she has feelings for him, but he plans to put the pedal to the metal to convince her to keep him around for more than just a test drive.

  Warning: Sweaty, down-and-dirty sex between a mechanic and her best client. Read at your own risk. Dangerous curves lie ahead, and these roads are slippery when wet.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Overdrive:

  The line went quiet again, save for their echoing breaths. She should probably hang up.

  “I don’t want to hang up yet,” Mac said, the reluctant honesty in his tone encouraging her to be honest in return.

  “Me either.”

  “What do you want, Frankie?”

  What did she want?

  She shoved aside all the doubts and self-recriminations and spoke the truth. “To listen to you talk. Your voice is so…”

  “So…?” he urged.

  Her heart pounded, and she closed her eyes. “Sexy. Your voice is so goddamn sexy.”

  “I’m glad that you think so. And what would you like me to talk about?”

  She squirmed, a familiar pressure spreading low in her belly. How to answer that loaded question? Mac had offered her the chance to explore a world she’d denied herself for so long. If she was going to do it, she was going to do it right.

  “The things we’re going to do tomorrow, maybe,” she whispered.

  His breath came out in a hiss. “That’s up to you, babe. I’m at your disposal. Whatever you want, however you want it.”

  His answer both excited and frustrated her. She’d been hoping he’d—

  “But I can tell you what I’d like us to do,” he said softly. “What I’ve imagined doing a thousand times. Would you like that?”

  “Yes.” She gripped
the phone tighter and pressed her thighs together.

  “First, tell me, are you in bed?”

  “Uh-huh. Are you?”

  “Yes. I hate to be cliché and ask what you’re wearing, so I’m going to pretend it’s a black, short, lace nightgown.”

  She glanced down at her flowered boxer shorts and Bob Marley T-shirt and bit her lip. “Yeah, we’ll go with that.”

  His warm chuckle sent a thrill through her, and she smiled.

  “Are the lights on?” Mac asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Turn them off.”

  She didn’t hesitate, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. “Okay, they’re off.”

  “Mine too.”

  He must have moved to settle in because she could hear the creak of the bed. The darkness of the room only intensified the intimacy of the situation.

  “Do you remember the first car I brought you?”

  She burst out laughing. “Um, let’s see. I think it was the Camaro, right? Is that your idea of mechanic dirty talk?” she teased.

  “Nope. I only brought it up to give you a point of reference. That day your dad was out, and you came out of the garage into the office wiping your hands on a rag. Your hair was in a ponytail like usual, and you had on black overalls. They were made of some stretchy material, and they fit you like a glove. It was like some high school wet dream come to life.”

  His admission made her nipples hard, and she shifted beneath the covers.

  “You asked me what the problem was. I told you, and you launched into this amazing analysis of what you thought was wrong. That made me even hotter for you.” His breath grew harsh, and his voice dipped lower. “I went home and jerked off thinking about you. Pulling the zipper down with my teeth. Pushing those overalls past your breasts…your hips. Making you step out of them so I could bend you over the hood and use my knee to spread your legs apart. You’d be open, Frankie. Accessible and wet as I slid my cock into you one inch at a time. Slow. I’d go so slow, baby, even now, because I’d want to feel all of you as I went in. I’d relish the heat and the burn. I’d push and stretch you until your pussy squeezed me tight, over and over while you screamed my name.”

  Frankie pressed her thighs together as his words pulsed straight to her clit. Her strained breath joined his. “W-were you in your bed when you…jerked off?” she whispered, slipping a hand down her stomach. She imagined him stroking his cock as he caressed her, feeling the silken skin of her belly and lower. Her knees parted as a hand—she groaned—connected with the hot, moist flesh exposed. Her head fell back, and she closed her eyes.