Blurb: For the book overall:
Work hard, play hard, love hard…
Nothing is sexier than someone who knows what they want and has the confidence go after it. This anthology is crammed full of hot romances featuring those kinds of rough-around-the-edges alpha personalities–stories about the kind of men and women who ride horses during the day and their partners at night, who speak few words but mean every one of them, and who would never break their own personal code of honor. We're talking about cowboys... and cowgirls.
This anthology contains seven romances with a Western theme that run the gamut from sweet to sizzling.
All Romance Books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-roughedges-2002518-362.html
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Each story is listed with the author bio, blurb and excerpt. Please use at least the one for the author on your blog. Thanks.
Emma’s Ride by Christine Morgan
Christine Morgan spent many years working the overnight shift in a psychiatric facility, which played havoc with her sleep schedule but allowed her a lot of writing time. A lifelong reader, she also reviews, beta-reads, occasionally edits and dabbles in self-publishing. Her other interests include gaming, history, superheroes, crafts, cheesy disaster movies and training to be a crazy cat lady. She can be found online at https://www.facebook.com/christinemorganauthor and https://christinemariemorgan.wordpress.com/
Emma is a demure young lady from Back East, or so she appears until her stern parents discover her inclination toward lusty leanings, and decide she'd best be safely married off before she can ruin the family reputation. She finds herself on a stagecoach bound West, set to wed an old man she's never met. When a strapping cowboy boards the same stage, Emma realizes this might be her last chance to give in to her wild and wanton ways, but the journey may yet have some surprises in store for them both.
What angered Emma the most was that she was being punished for something she hadn't done. Or, rather, that because she was being punished for it, she wished she'd gone ahead and done it.
How easy it would have been, how delightful! And they had, almost. If she'd been less coy, dash it all! If she'd not played at maidenly demure resistance, and made him pant vows of undying adoration in
her ear... why, it might have been long over with by the time Papa came in, and the ache, the terrible need in her, might finally have been met. The need that had burned since she'd discovered the books. She had never dreamed people did the deeds described in their pages, depicted in their drawings.
The flame had begun then, flickering, lapping, making her think of things she had never considered before.
Time Machine Cowboy by Trayce Primm
By day Trayce Primm transforms women into goddesses with her flashing shears; by night she uses her razor sharp words to transform boring reality into fantasy. She is a poet, published author of sensual romance, and is currently awaiting publication of a reincarnation murder mystery.
A boring end to a cold winter's day means shedding work clothes and popping a frozen dinner into the microwave. But once in a magical while, the package contains a sizzling surprise that heats up more than a cold heart.
A sharp, mechanical ping from the microwave summoned her back to the kitchen. She picked up a pot holder and pulled on the oven door, frowning slightly when it wouldn’t open. She pulled harder, then turned the timer on and off, hoping it might be of some help. A spark arced inside, setting off a humming, buzzing sound. Before she could move, a kaleidoscope of multi-colored, neon-bright light erupted from the small machine, filling the room with streaks of smoke and jagged blue bolts of lightning.
She tried to get out of harm’s way, but it was too late. The Technicolor web held her fast, paralyzed with fear, yet unhurt. Visibility dropped to zero, and she felt disoriented by the cacophony of light and sound. The noise intensified to a horrible crescendo, then settled down to a plinking, rhythmic regularity, familiar somehow.
Her senses returned one by one, picking up a jumble of isolated images. The sound of a badly tuned player piano—the tinkling dance hall classic, A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight—the yeasty smell of beer mingled with the acrid pall of cigar smoke, a glimpse of a polished wooden bar and rows of bottles lined up behind it and the tantalizing aroma of hickory-smoked barbeque. As the colored aura cleared, she realised she wasn’t alone anymore.
Lady of Lacrymosa by Brantwijn Serrah
When she isn't visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with art: sketching, painting, and cover design. She can't handle coffee unless there's enough cream and sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats and can spend hours watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer while she writes.
In addition to her novels, Brantwijn has self-published erotic short stories available on Amazon. Her short stories occasionally pop up at Foreplay and Fangs, her blog at http://brantwijn.blogspot.com.
When Katarina started her shift in the saloon, it was a night like any other. That was before the silent lady gunslinger strolled in through the batwing doors. Katarina can’t keep her eyes off the woman, and when the gunslinger starts to dance, sensuously spinning a black magic spell, Kat finds herself hopelessly, utterly lost. By morning, nothing will be the same.
The West gets weird, the night the strangers come to Lacrymosa.
Once she’d tended to her needs and tidied herself again, she slipped into the poorly-lit passageway between the saloon and the boarding rooms above. She crossed to the barroom door, still flustered and distracted, and didn’t notice the hand reach out from under the stairs and haul her back.
A short cry barely made it to her lips when there came a hot, soft mouth upon her own. Katarina felt the rough wood of the pantry door at her back, and a slender hand slid round the back of her neck, holding her captive to the kiss. A slim leg nudged between her thighs, rustling her skirt. She might have panicked but even before the scent of leather and magnolia hit her she knew who the phantom would be.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. Putting her hands up between them she nudged the lady away. “You don’t belong here. Get out, get back into the bar, or I’ll scream...”
Lady Gunslinger gave a husky, quiet little laugh, but she said nothing. Her hand found Katarina’s wrist in the dark, and without a word, she tugged the saloon girl towards the stairs.
Hunted and Haunted by Jen DeLuca
They say write what you know. When Jen DeLuca was 6, she wrote stories about girls who had dogs, played tennis, and took naps. She’s branched out a little since then, and now her stories usually include some snark, some angst, and some kissing. A Floridian by way of Virginia, Jen loves Hokies football, latte-flavored lattes, and the Oxford comma. She no longer plays tennis but she takes as many naps as she can.
A key witness in her ex's corruption trial, Anna needs to lay low for her own safety. While she's stashed in a remote hunting cabin in Montana, her nightly erotic dreams make her wish that sheriff’s deputy Gabe McKenna’s protective custody was a little more hands-on. Then she learns about the ghost who shares the cabin with them and discovers it’ll take both men to keep her safe… and satisfied.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me I’m safe. Tell me you’ll stay.” I had come out here because I was afraid, but that feeling was long gone, replaced with something much more primal. I wanted him in my room, in my bed, but my mouth couldn’t form the words.
Something must have shown on my face, because he started toward me. Slowly, deliberately, the soles of his boots like ominous music against the wood floor. “You’re safe,” he reminded me. “I’m not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
His voice was a growling whisper, and I strained to hear it as he walked closer still. Heel, toe. Heel. Toe. Clomp-clomp. Clomp-clomp. The closer he came, the harder my heart thudded in my chest, a counterpoint to his footsteps. I didn’t shrink back at his approach, just kept my eyes on his as he came closer.
He stopped a scant inch away, the heat from his body radiating toward mine. The quick rise and fall of my breath brushed the soft fabric of my camisole against his chest in a barely-there whisper. He was a large man, and this was a very small cabin. With anyone else, I would have felt threatened, but this was Gabe and I wanted nothing more than to curl into his body.
My Midnight Cowboy by Pumpkin Spice
Pumpkin Spice is the published author of adult romantic fiction. Her naughty fairy tale line “Scarlett Hood & The Hunter” and “Goldlie Locks & The Brothers Bear” is published by Evernight Publishing along with her Cupid Conquest romance, “The Hart Moment.” Pumpkin’s favorite time of year is fall when the leaves are turning, the weather is crisper and the nights are a whole lot longer. Write to her at: email@example.com Follow her on Twitter: @PumpkinSpiceU2
If chocolate is the way to a man’s heart, then pastry chef Lucy Baker has the recipe for success. But will her culinary skills melt the most-hard hearted bachelor in Wyoming?
A chance encounter on a New Year’s Eve flight leaves two strangers to discover unbound pleasure and a hunger for more sexual discovery.
I sat alone in complete darkness until the tram pulled into a stop. When the doors opened, light poured into the car and suddenly Ben stood before me. I gasped. He said nothing.
The tram resumed moving toward another tunnel and darkness overtook the tram. I felt for him, but he was no longer in front of me. A brief pocket of light before the next tunnel spliced through the tram and Ben was on the bench seat beside me, his voice in my ear.
“Hello.”I waited for him to touch me. “I wondered where you went.”
“I promised to look after you and I plan to keep that promise.”
“People break promises.”
He reached his hands into my hair and pulled me toward him. His mouth grazed my neck and nibbled at the tender skin. “I don’t break promises and neither will you.”
“Maybe.”I dug my fingers into his thick, wavy hair. “Maybe not.” I toyed with him and his hold on me strengthened. The ferocity of his kiss ignited my senses and made my skin prickle with pleasure.
Coming Up Roses by Anna Kyle
Anna Kyle spent her youth reading about and dreaming of horses and scheming (unsuccessfully) how to convince her parents to get her one. That led to writing her first story about a girl and her horse which in turn led to a lifetime love of writing. As an adult she reads everything from histories to mysteries but romances are definitely her favorite. These days she writes the paranormal romance series, the Wolf King, at World Weaver Press. SKYE FALLING was published last summer and the origin novel, OMEGA RISING, will be out late spring 2016.
To get the long-coveted D.V.M. initials after her name, healer Rose is forced to spend the last two weeks of her internship at the Finnegan Ranch she left eight years ago, where she spent and best and worst times of her childhood. Now Rose had to contend with using her rusty healing abilities to help a wounded, angry donkey and deal with the sexy shapeshifter cowboy who broke her heart.
Finn’s wolf did the unthinkable eight years ago – attacked the girl he loved. Then years later she’d unknowingly saved his wolf, and him. Now he has two weeks to convince Rose that the bite which drove them apart also binds them together. Because letting her go this time might not be possible.
If he let her go now nothing would stop her from leaving him. Forever. His wolf whined, a high-pitched , mournful sound.
No. If Rose thought she’d be happier without him, he would stand aside and let her walk away. Her safety and happiness were all that mattered. But he couldn’t let her stumble away, raw and hurting and believing he’d ever hated her.
Murmuring soft words in her hair like she was a scared filly at the crossroads of trusting or bolting, Finn held her. He wasn’t sure how long they remained locked together, swaying gently back and forth. Inch by inch her body relaxed until her arms crept around his waist and she sighed against his neck. The soft, contented noise she made was a gift so tender and precious that it stole his breath. Too soon she untangled herself and scrubbed her face.
Jump Without Looking by TJ Dodd
TJ Dodd is a frequently sweary, occasionally inappropriate former teacher and acknowledged black sheep of her family. She’s okay with that. She shares her home with her pit bull named Piddles, who outgrew the habit but got stuck with the name. She’s made up stories her whole life and thought it might be fun to try to get some of them published. So far it has been.
Jackie has a veterinary practice, her family’s ranch, and a habit of avoiding men. The last thing she needs is a giant, blonde cowboy who tears down her fence and rattles her nerves. Russ has no job, a beat-up old pickup, and a rundown ranch he just inherited. He needs everything except the beautiful, angry neighbor who turns him on and then runs him off. Can one pregnant cow, two horses that love to jump, and three long kisses prove them both wrong?
Not that his thoughts were angelic. In fact, they’d send him straight in the other direction. Jackie O’Neill was exactly the kind of woman who turned him on: spirited, strong, and sturdy. She was more of that kind of woman than anyone he’d met, so much so that she may have just become his definition of that kind of woman.
He wondered if she felt what he did, something like two magnets pulling them together. He wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked, and if it would dimple between his fingers when he held her thighs and kissed her full round breasts. They wouldn’t bruise each other, that was for damn sure. He’d fit right into her cushioned body.
Sitting next to her was a gift.
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