Table of Contents
Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Acknowledgement
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
A Totally Bound Publication
Risk It
ISBN # 978-1-78430-544-4
©Copyright Isabelle Drake 2015
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2015
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 2.
Invitations
RISK IT
Isabelle Drake
Book six in the Invitations series
Come to the Triple B Ranch and find your bliss! Gwen Baker has just been invited to participate in a new reality show, the Get Tied Down Challenge.
Couture dress-maker Gwen Baker says yes to spending a weekend at exclusive, singles-only The Triple B Ranch courtesy of the reality show, the Real DC. Recently dumped by a guy who insisted she wasn’t exciting or spontaneous, she’s eager for the chance to practice her man-hunting skills and take advantage of the live stream event to show off her custom cocktail dresses—even if the setting is a little bit rustic. Not one to be discouraged by setbacks like trying to look sexy in silk while roasting marshmallows over a campfire, Gwen arrives at the ranch ready to play along and pick one of the contestants. But the three guys from the city do nothing for her while the cook makes her ache for some serious sizzle.
As the head cook at the singles-only dude ranch, Connor Tate thinks he’s immune to the charms and temptations of the female guests. Long legs, curvy or cute…he can ignore them all. He doesn’t want any drama. He’s only at the ranch to earn cash for grad school. So when the cast and crew of the Get Tied Down Challenge arrive at the camp, he’s sure he’ll be able to keep to himself and avoid the raven haired-hottie roaming the trails. But an impromptu kiss with Gwen turns into a contest of domination that soon comes a test of wills—a test he’s glad to fail. He gives in to the sweet temptation she offers but he’s a long way from being satisfied.
Dedication
For the students of my Fall ’14 WRIT 278, Writing the Novel, class at Lansing Community College. Thanks for laughing at my jokes, your generous encouragement of each other, and for hanging around even when I pushed.
Acknowledgement
Christopher Bramhall Hastings
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Twitter: Twitter, Inc.
Disney: The Walt Disney Company
Snow White: The Walt Disney Company
Pinterest: Pinterest
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Men’s Wearhouse: The Men’s Wearhouse, Inc.
Chapter One
“Do it! Open your mailbox! It has to be there. The Capitol Girl post said the notifications would arrive today.”
“I’m just about to look. I’ll call you right back.” Gwen said goodbye to her friend Sabrina then slipped her phone into her bag and pulled out her key ring. She rushed up the few steps to the entryway of her apartment building then unlocked the door. The cooler air inside swept across her skin, nearly making her shiver after walking in the steamy July heat.
Like in most of the residential buildings in her Washington, DC neighborhood, the mailboxes hung in a tidy row on the wall right inside the entryway. A few more steps and she’d find out if what Sabrina believed was true. Almost there… Until one of her neighbors, a retired college professor, came along, blocking her way as she was about to slide the small brass key into the mailbox lock.
“Good afternoon, Miss Baker,” he said, clutching a white poodle under his arms.
“Hi, Professor Lyons.”
“Can you believe this is the third time Diego has asked to go out this afternoon?” The man jostled the dog and laughed. “I think he has a crush on the terrier from across the street. You know…the one who wears the sweaters?”
The small edges of the key pressed against Gwen’s finger, teasing her with the possibility that the mailbox held the invitation Sabrina had described. Still, she took the time to scratch behind the tiny dog’s ear. “I know that dog. I think the owner knits all those sweaters herself. I loved her Valentine’s one with the glitter hearts.”
“Hmmm…” The man looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t recall that particular one. Anyway, I told Diego not to bother. She’s probably one of those modern girls who doesn’t need a man.” He cooed to his dog then said to Gwen, “You know, like yourself, Miss Baker. No use for a man. No use at all. You never waste time with such things.”
Thinking of Nate, her boyfriend of a year who’d just dumped her because she was too busy and he’d decided he ‘just wasn’t that into’ her, Gwen forced smile. “Oh, you know”—she shrugged—“work and friends and…” She glanced at the mailbox then motioned to the dog who was peacefully resting in the man’s arms. “Diego is looking pretty restless. You better go see if his friend is in the park.”
“Yes, poor boy. Probably wasting his time, chasing after a dream, the way your own suitors are.”
Gwen didn’t bother correcting him. The professor moved on, calling goodbye from the door as she lifted the tiny key. The small silver door swung open.
A postcard ad for the yoga studio and the bill for her electric service. She looked again, to be sure. Nothing else.
Gwen crammed both back into the mailbox and slammed the door shut.
It was for the best. She didn’t really have an entire weekend to spare with three random guys. Maybe Nate was right. She wasn’t interesting. After he’d dumped her, she’d told herself it didn’t matter if she wasn’t exciting or didn’t spend any time on her personal life. She didn’t have time for anything that wasn’t going to make her new business a success. Cherry Couture, her fledging dress company, took every minute she had. Thanks to the contacts she’d made through Perfectly Professional, her friend Eva Marie’s event planning business, and a couple viral Twitter pics of women looking especially amazing in dresses she’d made, she’d been getting more and more requests to see samples and fill orders. That was good, for sure, but she still wasn’t satisfied.
Not ready to go into her continually empty apartment, Gwen went back outside and stood on the concrete landing at the top of the s
teps. Along the tree-lined street, people hurried home after a day at work, their arms filled with groceries, children, or clutching a workout bag. Gwen swapped her keys for her phone, perched herself on the low wall framing the landing and hit Sabrina’s number. Sabrina was already screaming when she answered. “What does it say? When do you go?”
Gwen struggled to push aside her disappointment that the invitation had not been in her mailbox. She didn’t care about the guys, she told herself. But the reality show weekend would’ve been the perfect opportunity to promote her dresses. She could’ve worn a different one each night. Gwen cut into Sabrina’s chatter. “Maybe the invitations didn’t go out yet.”
“Of course they did. The blog post said that the selected girl and all three guys would be notified today. I know you won because of the description Kelly posted on the blog—a newly single, raven-haired beauty who’s only just started making DC’s sexiest ever sexier. That’s you!”
Gwen settled back against the brick. “That could be hundreds of women in this city. It’s a big place, you know.”
Over in the park across the street, Diego barked at the terrier sporting a red, white, and blue sweater, even though it was at least eighty degrees. The professor stood nearby, chatting with the terrier’s owner, a pretty woman with her white hair pulled up into sleek French twist.
“Hello! Gwen!”
Gwen was just about the respond to Sabrina when the barking of both dogs caught her attention. The two tiny pets were yipping and hopping about, wagging their tails and looking both excited and distraught. The professor and the woman had stopped talking and were standing side by side, faces turned.
Halfway down the block, right in the center of the street, was a man on horseback. Gwen hopped off the wall and went down the stairs to stand on the sidewalk. A cowboy hat—the kind guys wear on the covers of romance novels—covered most of his face, but Gwen had the oddest feeling he had his gaze focused on her. “Sabrina, there’s some kind of cowboy or something in my street.”
“What? It sounded like you said a cowboy.”
Still looking Gwen’s way, the man angled the horse over to the side of the street.
“Yes. A cowboy. I gotta go, Sab. I’ll call you back.” Gwen didn’t wait for a reply before she clicked off and dropped the phone into her bag.
The clatter of the horse’s hooves ended when the cowboy pulled to a stop directly in front of Gwen. With a leather gloved hand, he tipped the black hat her way then swung out of the saddle, landing on the sidewalk with a thump of boots. He reached out to loop the reins around a parking meter. A pair of bright silver spurs jangled across the concrete when he sauntered her way.
Chaps. Unbelievable.
The well-worn leather hugged the man’s thighs, the long fringe swaying in the hot evening breeze as he continued forward. When he stopped directly in front of her, she noticed a guy with a camera standing about ten feet back, appearing to be filming the scene.
The cowboy swept the hat off and pressed back the unruly strands of short brown hair. The muscles of his arms bunched as his hand dipped back behind his head. “Miss Gwen Baker?”
It took her a few seconds to find her voice and when she did, it came out as a squeak. “Yes, I’m Gwen.”
“Connor Tate, at your service, Miss.” He bent forward in sort of lanky bow. “If you have a mind to, I’d like you, the female winner of the Capitol Girl’s Lonely Hearts Contest and the female nominee for the Triple B’s Get Tied Down Challenge as selected by The Real DC, the realest reality show from the city, to stay at the Triple B Ranch next weekend.”
One of his hazel eyes snapped shut in a flirty wink then he turned to the camera and added, “Courtesy of Perfectly Professional Event Planning Services, the Capitol Girl blog and the incredible, exclusively for singles, Triple B Ranch and brought to you by The Real DC.”
He turned back to her, flipped the hat upside down, held it forward as though he intended her to take it then looked back to the camera. “Do you want the chance to find romance in the Appalachian Mountains? Can you stay single when surrounded by three eligible men? Will you be able to resist the beaus vying for your attention? Accept this hat, accept the challenge to find yourself a man. Come to the Triple B and find your bliss.”
When she simply stared at the giant black thing hovering between them, he moved closer, reached for her hand and placed it under the hat. The leather of his glove was smooth and warm. She curled the fingers of her other hand around the brim and he let go, moving his free hand around her waist and hauling her up against his hot, hard body. The kiss was quick, soft and, to say the least, unexpected. And, it was over much too quickly.
“That enough?” the cowboy asked the cameraman who, now that he had lowered the camera so Gwen could see his face, looked really bored. Either that or he was used to seeing things like cowboys riding through the streets of DC kissing unsuspecting women then forcing them to take hats.
“Yep. It’s good,” he replied, looking up and down the street before turning the camera on the clusters of people who had stopped to stare at the spectacle they must’ve been.
The cowboy, Connor, pulled a large envelope from his back pocket and set it on top of the hat still upright in Gwen’s hands. “These are the details. Sookie Smith, the production manager for The Real DC, will have the contract sent over on Monday.” He backed up to unloop the horse’s reins and Gwen noticed the solid curve of his ass. The spurs caught the sun, flashing brightly as he settled into the saddle.
She admired his thick thighs as she lowered her hand. The hat brushed her leg and the envelope fell to the ground. “Wait. What am I supposed to do with this?” She raised the hat as she bent down to pick up the envelope.
“Read that stuff in the envelope,” he called as he swung the horse around and headed back down the street.
The cameraman jogged behind him, catching the image of the man riding his horse off into the sunset, the DC skyline contrasting perfectly with his rugged silhouette.
The professor and the woman with the white French twist, now holding their dogs and standing side by side, waved from across the park. Still stunned, but now also feeling a bit embarrassed to have the entire neighborhood staring at her, Gwen waved back, only realizing she was waving at them with the hat. When she turned to go back up her steps, she spotted a couple next door waving, so she waved the hat to them as well. A little girl peeked out from behind the woman’s legs and started clapping.
It was then Gwen jogged up the steps, grabbing her bag with her free hand. She had to set the hat and envelope down to get through the door. Once inside, safely out of sight, she dropped the hat onto her head, slung her bag over her shoulder and headed into her apartment.
* * * *
Connor had been avoiding reading the description of The Real DC’s weekend on the ranch but now with it officially starting in only a few hours, and everyone off making last minute preparations, curiosity finally got the better of him. Phone in hand, he lowered himself to a bed of pine needles, settled against a boulder and waited for the page to load the Get Tied Down Challenge.
The subtitle popped up. One woman, three men, four days, and a cowboy hat.
Connor skimmed through the event description. The readers of the Capitol Girl blog had voted to select one woman, Gwen Baker, from the DC area to spend the Fourth of July weekend at the ranch. Along with her, there were three men coming. She’d spend Thursday evening with one, Friday with another, and Saturday evening with the third. There’d be casual events and mixers that included all of the ranch guests during the day. The final afternoon—Sunday—Gwen would pick her man by giving him the hat Connor had delivered last week.
Below the explanation was a photograph of the her waving the hat he’d left her with, high above her head, her long straight hair just as black as the hat but much more silky. The wind had caught the dark strands and in the photo her hair was flying above her shoulders, the ends catching the sun streaming through the trees lining the
residential street where she stood. Even though she was wearing that loose fitting floral dress, he could see enough from the side angle shot of what was guaranteed to be a very well rounded ass. When he’d grabbed her and hauled her close for the kiss Sookie had specifically requested for the invitation delivery, he’d instantly appreciated how athletic she was. Now, looking at the picture, the memory of her lean, firm body was turning into a need for another chance to grab her.
He tapped to zoom in on her face and chuckled. Her pink lips were twisted, mouth open and her eyebrows were pulled down. Funny. It looked as though she was asking, what the hell am I supposed to do with this ridiculous hat?
Pretty damn cute, actually. So cute, she could even make that hat look good, especially if it was the only thing she was wearing.
He lowered the phone. Reminder to self—the camp cook is not in the running—ever. From his first day on the job as cook, he’d made a point of avoiding the female guests. At a dude ranch designed for singles, there was plenty of drama and he wanted none of it. He was there for two reasons—money and the opportunity to develop his recipes. Women didn’t enter in, not even that black-haired hottie who looked like she’d just stepped out of a photo shoot.
After giving Gwen that hat and Sookie’s paperwork, he’d spent the whole trip back to the ranch intentionally not thinking about her. Actually, it was more trying not to think about her. But mostly he was thinking about her while unsuccessfully telling himself to stop. Who was he kidding? He’d been thinking about her ever since, remembering the sound of her voice, the soft scent of her skin and her surprised whisper of breath when he’d kissed her. And soon she’d be right there at the camp.
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