Table of Contents
Excerpt
Outback Princess
Blurb
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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Note from Mari and Lexxie
eBooks by Mari Carr
eBooks by Lexxie Couper
Mari & Lexxie recommend … Michelle Hoppe
Excerpt
Annie splashed her face with water from the trough, relishing the bite of the chill. She was sweating her ass off. It was the end of November, typically the beginning of winter in New York, and she was standing in the middle of a desert with sweat rolling down her back. Her muscles were sore from helping Hunter with some of the chores he said were common tasks on the station. She’d met quite a few of the jackaroos—and even a few jillaroos—who worked for the Sullivans. Farpoint Creek was clearly a large and important cattle station, given the sheer number of men and women who lived and worked on the land.
She’d recorded hours of interviews and conversations and tried to list key points she didn’t want to forget to include in her writing. Several times she’d been so caught up in the moment, she’d completely forgotten to record or note anything, so she’d have to rely on her memory for some things when it came time to prepare her articles. There was simply too much going on all the time.
“Feel better?” Hunter asked.
She nodded. It was only her third day on the station. Three very busy, crazy, work-filled days. “It’s so hot.”
Hunter grinned. “Oh love, this isn’t hot. Summer hasn’t even started to kick in yet.”
“Holy shit. How can you stand it?”
Hunter shrugged as he handed her a towel to dry her face. She’d given up trying to wear makeup during the day. It was pointless considering she’d simply sweat it all off before noon. Given the way Hunter was looking at her, he didn’t appear to mind her au naturel appearance.
Hunter picked up the wide-brimmed Akubra Hazel had loaned her and put it back on her head. “We find ways to beat the heat. Speaking of, you’ve been working hard the last couple of days. Why don’t I show you more of the station? So far most of your chores have been around the homestead. I’ll give you a tour and,” he lifted a large bag she hadn’t noticed before, “even throw a picnic in as part of the deal.”
Annie’s stomach rumbled hungrily. “Food sounds awesome.” She’d found her appetite in Australia. Never a big eater at home, she typically existed on salads and yogurt. Since her arrival at Farpoint, she’d worked up a hunger she didn’t know existed. Hazel had invited her to help make dinner last night, sharing recipes and cooking tips. Growing up with a household cook who considered the kitchen his sacred property, Annie had never been exposed to the joys of cooking and baking.
Last night, she and Hazel had turned up an oldies station on the radio and danced around in aprons while baking fresh rolls for dinner and a pecan pie for dessert. She smiled at the memory.
“So let’s talk about your skills on a horse.”
Her smile disappeared. “You mean like riding one?”
Hunter nodded.
“We’re not going to take the ute?” Annie smiled again, proud of her use of the unique Australian word. Why they didn’t just say “pickup” was beyond her, but she liked the way ute sounded in her mouth. She was discovering she liked a lot of things about Australia.
He grasped her hand and tugged her toward the stable. “I’ll take that to mean you’re not a horsewoman.”
“That would be a very good assumption to make.”
They reached the shed just as Frankie, a young hand she’d met the previous day, came out with a saddled horse. Hunter took the reins from him.
“Thanks, mate.”
Annie peered behind Frankie. “Only one horse? Were you that sure of my answer?”
Hunter winked at her. “You mentioned a lack of cows in Manhattan. I assumed the same held true for other four-legged creatures.”
Annie put her hands on her hips. “I’ll have you know there are tons of horses in the city.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “There are horse-drawn buggies in Central Park and policemen who patrol the streets on horses.”
“I stand corrected then. Does this mean you want to ride alone rather than behind me?”
She glanced at the large animal and considered trying to control something so powerful on her own. Her gaze drifted back to Hunter’s muscular form and she licked her lips. He was certainly a strong creature she’d like to ride, though she suspected she wouldn’t have much more luck controlling him. Not that she’d mind that much. Visions of Hunter lying beneath her on the bed as she straddled his hips flashed before her eyes, and suddenly it wasn’t just sweat that was leaving her wet and sticky.
“Earth to Annie.”
She blinked rapidly, her vision focusing on Hunter as he waved his hand in front of her face.
“You still with me?”
Outback Princess
Farpoint Creek Cattle Station, Book 1
Mari Carr and Lexxie Couper
Published 2017 by Book Boutiques.
ISBN: 978-1-946363-03-9
Copyright © 2017, Mari Carr and Lexxie Couper.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Book Boutiques.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.
Manufactured in the USA.
Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Book Boutiques.
Blurb
Annie Prince has impetuously flown halfway ’round the world to visit a sexy cowboy she met online—only to find herself stranded in Sydney. Seems she and Dylan crossed wires, and he’s on his way to New York. His twin, Hunter, saves the day and whisks her back to the family cattle station. Hunter’s as easy on the eyes as Dylan, and even easier to talk to. Annie might have flown to Oz to meet one brother, but soon sparks are flying with the other.
Hunter considered Dylan a dumb arse for jetting off to America for some stranger—until he met Annie. Turns out the New Yorker is a smart, funny, hard-working jillaroo…and hotter than the Aussie desert. Hunter’s not normally one to poach his brother’s women, but he can’t keep his hands, lips, tongue and other body parts off this sexy city girl.
When raging lust leads to emotional attachment, where does that leave Annie and Hunter when her vacation comes to an end—or when Dylan finds out?
Previously Published
(2012) Ellora's Cave, Misplaced Princess | (2015) Mari Carr and Lexxie Couper, Princess
Acknowledgement
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs, Tibbs Design
Prologue
Annie: Mornin’ sunshine!
Dylan: G’day, love. How’re things in your neck of the woods this evening?
Annie: Long-ass day. Started with rain. Ended with rain. The middle bit was filled with my boss calling me Princess in a staff meeting. Grrrrr. I may end up killing him soon.
Dylan: Don’t kill him. I’m too far away to bail you out.
Annie: LOL. Thanks for the offer, but Monet’s already promised to have my back with the bail money.
Dylan: I think I like this Monet.
Annie: Yeah. She rocks. Ac
tually, she might be the only thing rocking in my world these days.
Dylan: That doesn’t sound good.
Annie: It’s not. You ever been sick of your life, Dylan?
Dylan: Me? Sick of life? Nope. Sick of Hunter at times. The bloody bastard’s been giving me a hard time about chatting with a woman in America again. I told him if he says another word, he’s dead.
Annie: Careful. I’m too far away to bail you out. Snort! Sometimes I wish we lived closer.
Dylan: Me too, love. But let’s be serious, a city girl wouldn’t last a day in the Outback.
Annie: What? You must be joking. I’d last a hell of a lot longer on your little ranch than you would in my big city.
Dylan: Station, Annie. Station. We don’t own ranches Down Under. Do you reckon you’d handle the snakes in the loo?
Annie: I deal with the rats in the sewers just fine.
Dylan: I’ll accept your offer of rats in the sewers and give back crocs in the river and spiders on the toilet seat. How’s that sound?
Annie: Deal.
Dylan: Two days. I’d give you two days before you were on a plane heading back to New York. Me, of course, well…I’d make one hell of a city boy. Blend in like I was born and bred there.
Annie: You wouldn’t last a New York minute, tough guy.
Dylan: I tell you what. Let’s see who outlasts the other. A Yank in the Outback or an Aussie in New York. Next week. Game?
Annie: Game on.
Dylan: Let me take a look at the flights online.
Annie: LMAO. Are we seriously doing this?
Dylan: I’ve never been more serious in my life. Okay. I’ll see you in four days, city girl. This Saturday. Qantas. Sydney International. One p.m.
Chapter 1
Annie Prince sank on to one of the hard plastic seats at Sydney Airport, giving in to exhaustion. She looked down at her very wet, now defunct iPhone—she vowed she’d never text on the toilet again—and decided this trip had been cursed from the word go.
In the past twenty-four hours she’d run the gamut of emotions—anger, frustration, annoyance, disappointment, excitement, happiness, sheer panic and now…nothing but numbness.
She studied the hubbub of the airport again. How the hell did she get here?
She’d roamed the International Arrivals area for nearly an hour before giving in to the realization he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Dylan wasn’t waiting for her.
When she’d replayed this scenario in her mind three thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven times—it had been a long-ass flight to Sydney—she’d always seen him standing in front of the crowd of families and friends waiting to welcome loved ones home. In her mind’s eye, he’d been smiling widely, holding flowers, maybe even a balloon. She’d imagined he’d give a true cowboy woot when she stepped through the doors and every woman around them would watch with jealousy as he rushed over to pick her up, spin her around and kiss her.
Instead, she’d watched all her fellow travelers receive those warm welcomes while she stood completely alone, in a foreign country.
How the hell did I get here?
She closed her eyes wearily, thinking of that fateful night when she’d met Dylan online, the night that had set her on this misguided, insane path.
It was all Monet’s fault.
“I can’t tell you how much better I feel. Thanks for coming over, Monet.”
“Wine cures everything,” Monet announced. “You know that.”
She and Monet had been neighbors in their high-rise Manhattan apartment building for nearly a year. They’d met on the elevator the day Monet moved in, and had clicked. Their friendship had flourished through numerous nights of drinking, broken hearts and, “oh my God, I just had awesome sex” chats.
“It cured my lousy day.”
Monet topped up her wineglass. Annie winced when she noticed it was empty. Hadn’t she just filled it up a few minutes ago?
“Damn.” Monet squinted at the bottle. “That one went fast. Should we go for broke and make it a three-bottle night?”
Annie giggled. “Sure. Why not? My hangover is pretty much guaranteed at this point.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“My boss skipped over me for another big assignment, the paparazzi were out in full-force this afternoon and I dumped Joel.”
Monet reared back. “That’s a lot of shit for one day. Let’s tackle this one at a time. Your boss is a prick. Why are you still working there?”
“Because it’s one of the few magazines in New York my father doesn’t own. You know how I feel about making it without his help.”
“Pardon me, Annie, but you’re not ‘making it’. That asshole boss of yours is working against you.”
Annie sighed. “I know.”
“What’s the deal with the paparazzi? Thought they’d become bored with you lately.”
“That’s actually connected to my breakup. Joel did a tell-all interview with People magazine where he casually hinted there may be wedding bells in our future. What the fuck is that about? We’ve been dating five months and I have zero intention of locking myself in wedded hell with anybody right now. He knows that.”
Monet took a sip of wine and looked at her sympathetically. “You think he was trying to force your hand?”
Annie was too familiar with the Joels of the world. Unfortunately, she also sucked at recognizing them until after they’d screwed her—figuratively and literally. “He wants a piece of the Prince pie. I’m freaking done with men.”
Monet rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not. You enjoy sex too much.”
“I’ll hire a paid escort.”
Monet laughed. “You’re a romantic at heart and it’s pretty obvious that’s never going to change. If all your asshole exes haven’t beaten that out of you, we can assume it’s a character flaw that will stick.”
“Great. So I’m destined for life as an old maid because every man in America wants my family’s money a hell of a lot more than they want me.”
“So broaden the search.” Monet leaned over and grabbed her laptop from the coffee table.
“What are you doing?”
Monet didn’t answer. Instead, she quickly tapped several keys on the computer then turned the screen around so Annie could see it.
“An online dating service? Be serious.”
Monet raised an eyebrow. “I’m one-hundred-percent serious. I never joke around about getting laid. Let’s assume that every man in the United States knows your family’s name.”
“Prince Incorporated has large holdings in Europe and Asia too,” Annie pointed out. Her buzz was now full force. “So unless that service can find me a man on Mars, this is a waste of time.”
Monet kept typing. “So we’ll go extreme.” Her eyes widened as her gaze landed on something on the screen. “Ooo la la. What do we have here?”
Annie tried to peer at the laptop, but Monet turned it away from her.
“What is it?”
Monet grinned. “What’s your stance on a sexy Australian cowboy?”
“Jesus. They have those on there? Sign me up.”
Monet giggled—and then she did just that.
Annie sighed and glanced around the airport once again. Sitting and sulking was accomplishing nothing. There were a thousand possible scenarios for why Dylan wasn’t here. Maybe something had come up at the ranch.
Crap. Station. She’d never remember that.
Or maybe he was stuck in traffic, his car broken down. Maybe he’d gotten a nasty stomach flu. She’d walked by a customer service desk at least a dozen times during her trips around the terminal searching for her cowboy. She’d ask them to do an all-call over the intercom. She needed to determine Dylan truly wasn’t here before she tried to figure out her next move.
As she waited in line to speak to the representative, she remembered the morning after her impulsive, drunken decision to join the world of international online dating. She’d woken up bleary-eyed, with a pounding headac
he, and had decided to call in sick to work. Annie had never taken a sick day, but her boss’s determination to treat her like a nonentity and her queasy stomach made the choice to remain home an easy one.
She walked toward the kitchen for a handful of saltines, stopping to power up her laptop on the way. When she returned to her desk, she discovered an email from someone she didn’t know. Dylan Sullivan. Her hand hovered over the button that would send Mr. Sullivan straight to the trash, but something stopped her. Some niggling memory from the previous night.
She and Monet had drunk way too much and stayed up far too late. Monet had consoled her over work and Joel.
Oh fuck! The online dating gag. Monet had signed her up and then…
Some Aussie cowboy had expressed interest. Monet had talked her into sharing her personal information.
Annie rubbed her aching head. How could she have been so stupid? If the tabloids caught wind of the “practical Prince sister” soliciting for dates online, they’d be ruthless. She might as well give up any hope of avoiding the limelight. Maybe she should just pack it in and join her ditzy sisters’ ridiculous reality show, Life with the Princesses. It’s not like she’d ever be taken seriously after this little tidbit leaked out.
Her hand hovered over the mouse, and then she quickly clicked to open the email. She’d gone this far. She might as well see what she was risking her reputation for. She read Dylan’s message.
His email was nice, well written and humorous. It also seemed pretty clear he had no idea who Annie Prince was.
Feeling like she’d dodged a bullet, Annie responded, explaining nicely that she’d been tipsy when her friend talked her into signing up for the service. She let him down as gently as she could, turned off the computer and crawled back into bed with a couple of aspirin and a tall glass of ice water.
When she awoke later that afternoon, she was surprised to find a very funny response from her would-be Aussie suitor. Dylan had taken her rejection with good grace and he’d even sent her a list of ingredients for the Sullivan family hangover cure. Against her better judgment, Annie tried the hangover recipe, which worked, and then wrote Dylan again, thanking him.
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