Jackson: The Sons of Dusty Walker

by Alexander, Randi

  Saddle up! And prepare yourself for the sexier side of happily ever after.

  Other Sons of Dusty Walker Books

  The Sons of Dusty Walker: Dylan (Book 1) by Jodi Redford

  Blurb:

  Secrets and lies—the legacy of Dylan Walker’s existence. Ashamed of his status as a bastard son, Dylan found solace and a sense of identity as the lead bass guitarist for Truckstop Pickup. But with one phone call, his world is shaken to its core. Summoned to Kansas after the death of his father, Dylan discovers he has three brothers he knew nothing about. Reeling from that earth-shattering revelation, he figures life can’t throw him a bigger curveball. Until fate puts him face-to-face with the woman his heart refuses to forget...and her little boy. Who just happens to bear a striking resemblance to Dylan.

  Never love a musician. That’s always been Zoe Chapman’s number one motto. Daughter of a legendary country star, she knew that truth better than anyone. Then she’d met Dylan. He’d stripped her of her defenses, and she’d fallen. Hard. Now he’s back in her world. A living, breathing, too-sinful-for-words personification of everything she’s ever wanted. And can never have. Only Dylan is dead set on becoming a permanent fixture in their son's life. Determined to make her part of the package deal, he works at breaking down her walls again, and her resistance is slipping faster than her panties.

  But there’s another secret Zoe’s hiding. And it could end up pushing Dylan away from her forever.

  Find Dylan at www.jodiredford.com and on Amazon

  Excerpt:

  Dylan ambled into the periodical aisle and scanned the options. Naturally his favorite—Guitar World—was noticeably absent, so he picked up the latest Time instead. A nearby fashion rag snagged his attention, mainly because the model on the cover had a smoldering gaze that reeled him in. He stood there like a complete dope, the magazine clutched in his hand, but his mind was a million miles away, steeped in an erotic memory. Gorgeous green eyes locked with his, peering straight into his soul. The sensuous slip-slide of their sweat-slickened bodies. Zoe’s nails digging into his ass, refusing to let him go, even when he buried himself so hard and deep within her, he swore he could feel her heartbeat. Or maybe it was the fierce mad rush of his own pulse as she annihilated his defenses. She was a danger to all of his carefully held rules. Don’t get close. Offer no promises. Forget her and move on.

  The first two had been taken out of his hands with her refusal to give him her last name. But Rule Three was impossible. He’d never forget her. God knows he’d tried.

  He thunked the magazine back in the rack and continued his shopping, adding a box of Benadryl to his stash in hopes of it helping him get some shut eye the rest of the week. The sound of a young child laughing broke through his concentration. Customers must have come in when he wasn’t paying attention. Time to get his ass back to Hazel before someone beat him to the front of the line.

  Rounding the corner of the aisle, he spotted the petite blonde parked at the pharmacy counter. Damn, too slow.

  He checked out the blonde’s heart-shaped posterior, his resignation shifting to appreciation. He’d gladly buy a round of beers for whoever was responsible for inventing yoga pants. Hell, he’d purchase them an entire distillery.

  The female scraped her hair back and he spotted the hot pink streaks scattered in with the platinum locks. He wouldn’t have figured anyone around these parts for adopting an edgier style like that. Maybe she wasn’t local.

  And didn’t that make things potentially interesting?

  Hazel scooted up to her side of the counter and beamed a smile, instantly breaking up Dylan’s two-second happy parade quicker than a firehose set on full blast. Judging from the older woman’s response, the blonde wasn’t a stranger in town.

  Just his damn luck. First female in a long time who stirred more than a passing fascination in him and he had to keep his mitts to himself.

  “Zoe, dear. Perfect timing. I was about to give ya a ring to see about some private lessons for Ginger.”

  Dylan jolted at the name. Holy shit. How damn weird was that? Here he’d been thinking about Zoe, and another one stood a couple feet in front of him. And it wasn’t even that common of a—

  His thoughts rear-ending each other like a fifty car pileup, he jerked his attention back to the ass he’d so eagerly admired seconds ago. A tingle of déjà vu tripping through his synapses, he blinked. “Zoe?”

  “Hm?” The blonde sent him a distracted look over her shoulder.

  Shock punching him square in the solar plexus, he returned the gaze of the woman who’d haunted his dreams for the last four years.

  He cataloged the exact moment Zoe registered who he was. Her poleaxed expression hinted that she was equally stunned by their unexpected reunion. He prayed that her silence was due to disbelief. They’d left things on good terms, but shit knows women tended to recall events in a wholly different light than most clueless men. And he wasn’t too proud to admit that he could be just as dimwitted as the rest of his gender.

  Figuring he better say something rather than continuing to gape at her like a psycho, he cleared his throat. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

  She opened her mouth, but the only sound that emerged was a wispy, distressed breath. He didn’t think it possible, but her coloring turned several shades whiter than Casper the Friendly Ghost. Suddenly alarmed that she might be moments away from passing out, he rushed forward—and collided with the little tike barreling across his path. The kid bounced off Dylan’s leg and tumbled onto the ground. Before he could reach for the boy, Zoe snapped out of her daze and hunkered to her knees, her shaking hand smoothing over the tot’s stick-straight brown hair. “Hunter, that’s why I keep telling you not to run in stores.”

  “Yes, mama.”

  The sweet childish voice uttering those two words sent another bolt of shock careening through Dylan. Zoe...was a mom? Desperately trying to process that thought, he slashed his attention to Hunter. As if he’d known he was the subject of deep scrutiny, the little boy popped his thumb in his mouth and peeked up at Dylan.

  He stared into Hunter’s eyes. Everything surrounding Dylan tilted at a funny angle and a strange prickle of awareness hopscotched across his suddenly flushed skin. The tiny person looking back at him was a mirror of himself at that age. Honest to God, with that kind of resemblance, Hunter could be...

  Hot and cold flashes racing inside him, he reluctantly tore his focus from the boy and met Zoe’s horrified gaze.

  Find Dylan at www.jodiredford.com and Amazon

  ********

  The Sons of Dusty Walker: Killian (Book 3) by Desiree Holt

  Blurb:

  To say Killian Walker was shocked when he discovered that not only was his father not married to his mother, but he had three half-brothers in the same situation. Facing each other for the first time at the reading of Dusty Walker’s will, the atmosphere could best be described as hostile. The terms of the will didn’t help matters. Spending a week in Red Creek, Kansas in Dusty’s house and Dusty’s business was just not on his agenda of things to do. But if he wanted the money to start his own ranch, he’d have to grit his teeth and man up.

  Lexie Choate had big dreams about success in the world of art. Her teachers at Savannah School of Art praised her talent and told her she was a shoo-in to win the prize of a gallery show of her own. The last thing she expected was for the man who stole her heart to also steal the prize from her. She ran back to Red Creek, to heal her broken heart and recover from her disappointment. As the owner of Heart Starter, the popular coffee shop in town, she was busy building a new life for herself, while she continued to paint in secret. Hope never dies.

  When Killian walked into Heart Starter the chemistry between the two of them was instant and explosive, but neither of them was looking for anything long term. She wanted to get back into the world of art. He was planning to build his ranch and not in Nowhere, Kansas. One week, they agreed. One week to enjoy each other, then goodbye. Funny t
hing, though, just when you think you’ve got everything planned out, life has a fanny way of turning your life upside down.

  www.desireeholt.com

  Excerpt:

  Killian paid the check then stood up and waited for her to slide from the booth. When they walked to the SUV he kept his hand on her arm. He moved it to open the door and Lexie missed the warmth of the contact at once. He again helped her into the seat and buckled her belt for her. This time when his face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her cheeks, he leaned forward that last little bit. She held her breath, waiting to see if he’d move away again. But no, he pressed his lips gently against hers in the briefest of kisses. Still, even with that light contact, the heat it created set her blood to boiling and the pulse in her pussy pounded with long-suppressed need.

  Without thinking she opened her mouth slightly and Killian’s tongue swept in like a sword of flames. The kiss was so intense it stole her breath but she never thought to break away. At last he lifted his head and looked at her with ravenous hunger. She could tell he was as stunned by the reaction as she was.

  Oh, lordy!

  He just stared for another long minute before closing her door and jogging around to the driver’s side. They were both silent on the drive back to her place. When he walked her up the stairs to her door he kept his hand on her as if needing to maintain contact. On the landing he turned her to face him.

  “I’m not coming in, Lexie. I’d like to think I’m too much of a gentleman to act on what I want to do with you on our first date. But trust me, there will be others. So if you want me to stay away, now would be the time to tell me.”

  Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it. “I want that.” The words were a whisper.

  “All right, then.”

  He pulled her into his arms and cupped her head with one large hand. His scent surrounded her as did the strength of his body. When he pressed her to him she could feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock even through the thick denim. It pressed hard against her mound, the contact causing a flood of moisture to her panties. Could he smell the fragrance of her arousal?

  This kiss was deeper than the other, more intimate. He licked every inch of the inner surface of her mouth, brushing his tongue over hers in an erotic dance that made her weak with wanting. She clutched his arms, fingers tightening on ropes of hard muscle, the heat of his body scorching her hands. She had an insane desire to rip off his clothes so she could run her hands all over his naked body. Just at the point where she had forgotten to breathe he lifted his head. The look in his eyes told her he was as affected as she was.

  “See you tomorrow.” His voice was thick with desire. “Keep my cinnamon buns warm.”

  “Of course.” But she wasn’t thinking of pastry when she said that. “See you.”

  www.desireeholt.com

  ********

  The Sons of Dusty Walker: Rogue (Book 4) by Sable Hunter

  Blurb:

  A loner by choice and a renegade by nature.

  Rogue is living up to his name. He’s lived life on his own terms, doing everything from team-roping in college, Texas Hold ‘em champion to founding his own company, Lone Wolf Oil.

  Everything he’s accomplished has been in spite of Dusty Walker, a man who sired four sons by four women – none of them his wife. Rogue might be following in his father’s footsteps, but he is nothing like his father.

  And he never will be if he can help it.

  When he flies to Kansas for the reading of Dusty’s will, three brothers and a quarter interest in a half-billion dollar business aren’t all he finds…Rogue feels like he’s been hit by a tornado after he walks into a room a room and finds a woman in his bed. Not just any woman, either…

  The last time he saw Kit Ross, she was racing off in her truck leaving him naked and hard by the side of the road. Of course, he deserved it; he’d hurt her. To say she wasn’t happy to see him was an understatement. And when he wins her ranch with a good poker hand, the game is on.

  It’s not just poker that’s being played. They can’t keep their hands off one another. Rogue doesn’t know if he has room in his life for family and love. He doesn’t know if he can be trusted with people’s hearts and happiness. What if he’s more like Dusty Walker than he ever knew?

  The Sons of Dusty Walker. Four brothers – one tainted legacy and a wild, wild ride.

  FIND ROGUE HERE on my website http://sablehunter.com/ and on Amazon.

  Excerpt:

  Stepping back out into the sunshine, he pulled his hat down to shade his eyes. Making his way across the yard, he wondered where the poker game would be held. Probably in the building he’d just left. He smiled, seeing that the accommodations were small log cabins. Whoever had designed the place hit the nail on the head with rustic appeal. Coming to his door, he started to put the key in – and noticed it was unlocked, ajar a couple of inches. With a gentle shove, he pushed it open and stepped in to the generous sized suite. His eyes roved the room, taking in the big recliner, the heavy desk – but when he came to the focus of the room, he froze. “There’s somebody in my bed,” he mused under his breath.

  Walking quietly toward the big four-poster, Rogue felt like one of the three bears. The only difference was the riot of curls lying on his pillow were sable brown locks instead of gold ones. A velvet bedspread was thrown back to the foot, the only cover over the curvy female body was a thin sheet. He could see every dip and curve and the outline of a very intriguing heart-shaped bottom.

  Glancing down at his keycard, he noted the number 9, stepped backwards and verified that he indeed was in the right cabin. “Well, this beats a mint on my pillow any damn day.”

  A sweet female sigh came from across the room and Rogue returned to it like a rope had been dropped around his shoulders – the tug was strong. Heaven was smiling on him, because when he drew near, Sleeping Beauty rolled over and it became apparent she was sleeping in the nude. A pair of scrumptious round breasts with rosy pink nipples were winking at him like cherries topping an ice cream sundae. A delicate creamy arm was thrown over his little bedmate’s face, but Rogue didn’t mind, there was plenty of other good stuff to see. With a cute little kick, she pushed the sheet farther down and now he was seeing a flat tummy and a narrow waist. If he didn’t do something fast he’d be treated to a centerfold peek at her feminine treasure.

  Should he awaken the fair maiden with a kiss?

  Probably not a good idea. Damn, sometimes he wished he wasn’t so gallant.

  Turning his back, he crossed his arms with a smirk. All of a sudden, he was feeling better. The worry of Dusty and his brothers seemed faraway. Clearing his throat, Rogue announced, “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to barge in but the door was standing open. I do believe you’re in my bed.” His bit his lip and smiled when he heard a gasp, the snap of a sheet and bare feet padding on the floor, coming across the room toward him. Bowing his head, Rogue closed his eyes, counting under his breath, preparing himself for a blushing kissable vision voicing her abject apologies. Five, four, three, two…

  Not what he got.

  Wham! A pillow came crashing down on his very expensive beaver-skin cowboy hat. “What do you think you’re doing in my cabin, you pervert?” He held his hands up, defending himself from the crashing satin covered weapon she was wielding quite ably. “Give me your key!” she demanded with a hiss. He held the plastic card out like a peace offering, his eyes still tightly shut. When he heard his small attacker moving away, he carefully opened one eye and had to laugh at the sight. Long dark hair hung down in corkscrew curls to butt level and the sheet trailed behind her like the long train of a bridal gown. “Follow me!” Miss Priss marched out the door and across the yard, gesturing to another cabin. “This is #9! Mine is #6, the damn numeral spun upside down on the screw.”

  Rogue followed the sexy husky-from-sleep voice. Why was he feeling an odd sense of déjà vu? “I’m certain I can’t be held accountable for malfunctioning hardware an
d like I said before, your door was standing open.” His argument sounded good to him. “My name is Rogue Walker and I’d like to apologize for waking you from your cat nap.”

  A horrified gasp met his ears. “Rogue Walker?”

  Rogue had never heard his name said with that same degree of distaste before – but when he finally got close enough to lay eyes on the face that went along with the incredible body he’d ravished with his eyes – he understood.

  Standing before him in all of her glory was Kit Ross, the woman who’d been his partner in what had to have been the worst blind date in the history of mankind.

  Both of them stared at one another, their own memories crashing down on them like an unwelcome downpour...

  FIND ROGUE HERE on my website http://sablehunter.com/ and on Amazon.

  Other Books by Randi Alexander