Featured Excerpts - MorganO

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“…a meeting of the souls and I loved it.”  
From Erotic Horizons
COWBOYS DREAM TOO was well paced, from the moment the story gets going, everything was well timed, scheduled perfectly and I ended up looking forward to the dreams just as much as [the main characters] Reed and Gray.

5 Books Long and Short of It Reviews
by Camellia
Cowboys Dream Too is pure pleasure to read. It has scenes that make the reader laugh, cry, and sigh with love scenes that do it all.  Morgan Q. O’Reilly is a word weaver that reaffirms, love is a treasure to be prized. 

4 Blue Roses 
by Rebecca Rose
All and all, I found the humor and seduction a wonderfully well blended mix.


He searched the world over for the woman who's headlined in his dreams for years. The last place he expected to find her was beside a Vegas pool.

Gray Dunbar gave up his place on the family’s successful ranch to search for the unknown woman who’s been haunting his dreams forever. The last place he expected to find her was on his way back home.

Overworked CFO Reed O’Brien wants nothing to do with the non-professional overtures her boss is suggesting will save his dying company. The strong handsome cowboy named Gray, however, is the perfect antidote to her stress and overwork—until she discovers he is her boss’s former partner and arch rival.

When the trio is thrown together at the Dunbar ranch, the war is on – for the future of the company, for the success of the ranch, and for the heart of a woman with big dreams. And Gray’s only hope is that his dream is too powerful for any of them, especially Reed, to ignore.

Warning, contains explicit situations, carnal massages, and inventive riding lessons.

Chapter One

“One of my mother’s fondest memories, or so she says, is toddler-me clinging to the hand of an old, bowlegged, grizzled cowboy as he walked me down the hill to the barn where my brothers were messing around at the time.” Reed O’Brien leaned back in her lounge chair and sipped her iced tea. A half dozen feet in front of her, kids and beautiful people played in the cool blue water of the hotel pool.
Her best friend, Sam don’t-you-dare-call-me-Samantha Bond, listened raptly.
“Paint me a picture, Reed. You do real good with words,” Sam ordered.
Reed ignored Sam’s lazy grammar and closed her eyes to draw upon those too-distant memories. It had been so long ago--twenty-five, twenty-seven years?--and she’d been so very young…with only one visit since then for a weekend when she was in college. The luxurious Las Vegas setting around her faded as she sank deeper into the past.
“The main house was uphill from the barn. By no means at the top of the hill.” Digging into her memories, she couldn’t recall the exact outline of the house, but knew it had a long, deep, covered porch perfect for rocking chairs. At least two had been there. There may have been more, but she couldn’t see them in her mind.
Craggy rocks rose sharply behind the house. Rocks where her brothers had often found snakes and tarantulas to bring home as pets. Dubious pets that had always died by mysterious means after a day or so. Mom had later confessed to leaving them in the hot sun or getting chloroform from the local vet. The chloroform worked particularly well with rattlesnakes.
“That’s why he had to walk me down. The hill was too steep for me. When I went back about nine years ago it was really just a gentle slope. I guess I was about two, maybe two-and-a-half at the time. Mom says I took my first steps on that very porch.” Reed lazily swirled the ice in her glass. “Anyhow, the way Mom tells the story, my brothers took off down to the barn--I don’t know where my sister was at the time--and I howled because they didn’t take me with them. Well, old Ernie, as genuine a cowboy as there ever was, stood up from his rocking chair. Must have been all of sixty at the time, but he looked much older in the few photos we have of him. He said, ‘What’s the matter, honey? Won’t those mean ol’ boys walk you down the hill?’ Then he reached for my hand, and keeping pace with my baby legs, walked me down the steps of the porch and down the hill. Mom says she can still see it. Ernie in his cowboy hat and faded plaid flannel shirt, worn jeans over bowed legs, wearing his cowboy boots, slowly ambling down the hill with a tiny mop-headed princess clinging to his fingers.”
“Where was this?”
“Hmm? Oh, back up behind Livermore. Hidden in those lovely California hills. On the other side of the hill from the reservoir. The road veers off to the left and hugs the side of the hills, about halfway up. Barely wide enough for one car in spots. Mom hated that road. Just like she still hates vertical drops of any kind. You drive about, oh, I don’t know, four or five miles, or it might have been only two or three, back along the road until the hills start to flatten out a little. That’s where the ranch buildings were, in the bowl of the little valley where the road ends.”
Reed sipped her iced tea again. Just the memory of the dusty ranch made her throat dry. As clearly as if she stood there, she could smell the arid dirt, sweet hay, and animals of the ranch where her parents boarded a horse. Snowy, so named because he was white. Fading photographs provided proof she’d ridden the huge beast. Usually with one of her three older brothers or sister, safely snugged in the shelter of their arms. Mom liked to say her girls were the Alpha and Omega of the brood with the three boys in the middle.
When had the family stopped going up there? At some point Ernie had died and his wife, Cora, had moved into town, turning the ranch over to her nephew. How old had Reed been? Four? Five?
“So, why don’t you like cowboys?” Sam asked, then tipped her glass of iced tea and drank the rest of it down.
Reed waved her hand and set her glass, now empty but for the ice, on the low table between them. “I never said I didn’t like them, they just don’t…do it for me. Despite that silly t-shirt you made me buy.”
“You’re missing out, strumpet,” Sam said, and exchanged her glass for a bottle of tanning oil.
“Perhaps, but keep in mind the whole town was overrun by cowboy types. Each one with a pick-up truck and a pick-up line. Hell, even the high school mascot was a cowboy.”
“So tell me about your dream last night.” Sam’s abrupt change of topic took Reed by surprise.
“Dream?” Reed adjusted the cloth over her legs.
“Yeah. Dream. You were muttering in your sleep. Who’s Carrick?”
“That dream.” Did Sam have to mention it now?
“Is it the same dream from college?”
“Yes.” Reed sighed. “It always starts the same, but I can barely remember any of it when I wake up. It never feels complete, that much I remember. I always wake up feeling if only I slept a little longer I’d reach the end. It’s like getting three quarters of the way through a book and finding the rest of it missing.”
“But romantic, right?” Sam snickered. “At least I’d assume so based on the way you thrashed and moaned.” Sam waggled her brows and popped open the top on her oil bottle.
“Give me a break.” Reed groaned and leaned back against her cushions. “If I could remember the dream I’d tell you every juicy detail, but it fades as soon as I wake up.”
“Maybe I’ll sit up and listen tonight.” Sam smirked at her. “Then I’ll tell you exactly who Carrick is. Maybe he’s a hot cowboy.”
“Right.” Reed snorted as she looked over at her friend and felt a familiar pang of envy.
Sam was long and leggy with the looks of a supermodel. Thick, long, dark brown hair was accented by natural auburn highlights glinting like copper pennies in the sun. At a confident five-feet-nine, with a perfect 36C bust and size eight waist and hips, she towered over Reed, which was one of life’s little ironies.
Sam was also bait for every red-blooded male ever born. From infant to senile codger, all men turned to stare with their tongues hanging out when she walked past. Or like today, when they walked past her. Reed had never seen so many men sucking in their paunchy guts while thrusting out their chests. It was only a matter of time before one fell into the pool or walked into a palm tree.
Reed’s envy never lasted, though. Hating Sam just wasn’t possible. She was too nice, too funny, too wicked and just too good a friend. Reed wrinkled her nose and pulled her large-brimmed straw hat more securely down over her face.
“You know me,” Reed said. “I like those suit types. They only get sweaty in the gym and in bed. The rest of the time they smell like expensive leather.” Oh yeah, she went for wool suits, primo cotton or silk shirts, and ties. Groomed hair, manicured hands and nails that never injured tender skin, and arms that knew how to hold a woman when dancing--that did it for Reed.
A man who could carry her to bed would be asking too much. Men who tried to carry girls like her ended up with ruptured disks or hernias. She shifted against the raised back of her padded teak lounge carefully covered by the shade of a poolside umbrella and a large potted palm. Idly she watched the beautiful, and a few not-so-beautiful, people move around the pool.
“So why, pray tell, are we going to a dude ranch tomorrow?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Reed saw Sam begin smoothing tanning oil over her already bronzed body. Her friend never hid from the sun. Everyone else was slapping on layers of SPF 70 sunscreen while Sam rubbed some exotic banana-coconut-pineapple-scented oil on her skin. Most likely SPF 2, if Reed wasn’t mistaken.
“I didn’t choose the location, so you can’t pin this one on me.” Reed watched from under the cover of her mirrored sunglasses. One of those businessman-types she so adored, turned in his chair to unabashedly watch Sam apply the oil first on her legs, followed by her stomach, then between the cups and strings of her bikini top before covering her arms. When Sam lifted her chin to oil her throat, the man dropped his beer can on the concrete apron of the pool deck.
“Stop showing off,” Reed growled.
Sam looked around with genuine confusion on her face, her chocolate-brown eyes hidden behind fashionable, tiny-lensed sunglasses.
Reed dipped her fingers into her glass, snatched out an ice cube and flung it at her friend.
“Hey! What’s that for?” Sam brushed the rapidly melting ice cube away.
“Pass it on to your boyfriend over there to cool him off.” Reed adjusted the length of black linen she used as a sarong to cover her pale legs. The shade of the umbrella wasn’t enough to protect her from the glaring mid-August sun, and she didn’t care for sunscreen. No one had ever convinced her the chemicals didn’t cause skin cancer any less than UV rays.
A diaphanous, sun-blocking long-sleeved black shirt protected her arms and shoulders. Sunlight reflected from the windows of the tall, sleek hotel surrounding them was enough to burn her uncovered milky skin in less than thirty minutes. Covering up didn’t bother her, really. Self-conscious about her curvy body, she often hid behind layers anyway. While Sam called her voluptuous, Reed and her brothers had another word for it--fat.
“My boyfriend?” Sam looked around then laughed out loud. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s more your type.”
Sam was right, but Mr. Business didn’t seem to agree. His tongue nearly swept the pool deck. No, he wasn’t quite Reed’s type after all. She liked her brain-boys with a sense of style and decorum. This one apparently had neither going for him, although he tried to cover up his major fashion faux pas with a towel across his lap. He needed to lose twenty pounds and do about a million crunches to fix that error. Honestly, men should have to gain the written approval of ten women, not relatives, before wearing bikini swim suits. It should be a law. Especially in Vegas.
Reed hid her disgust by trying to coax an ice cube from the glass into her mouth. Predictably, the ice clung to the bottom of the glass no matter how much she rattled it. She tried one last time only to have the entire mass let loose and spill across her face, over her chest and down inside her suit.
Typical, Reed snarled internally while Sam hooted with laughter. Reed didn’t dare look up as she brushed the rogue cubes away. How humiliating.
“May I offer you a towel?”
The smooth deep voice and an undeniably male presence made Reed notice the man holding out a towel. Black hair, eyes hidden behind the mandatory sunglasses, bronzed skin, lean but bulging muscles and six-pack abs sliding into baggy swim trunks. Hideous swim trunks. Bright red with a white hibiscus pattern. Strong looking legs, also bronzed. Hawaiian? Italian? Hard to tell without seeing his eyes and the rest of his face. No wedding ring and no band of white showing where one might have been. Overall, quite drool worthy. He could have worn a Speedo--and how.
“Thanks,” Reed said, as pleasantly as she could, and took the offering. She looked away to pat her chest and ignored the ice cubes that had slipped down her cleavage to melt against her stomach under the one piece black suit she wore. Blessed with a more impressive cleavage than Sam, it was her one point of pride. 36DD, fortunately still firm. “All better now.” She smiled up at her hero of the moment.
“My pleasure,” he replied with a smile bordering on a leer as he stared at her chest.
Reed was tempted to point at her eyes and say, ‘Up here, bud, my eyes are up here.’ Instead, she bit her lip and let him stare at her nipples hardening from the shock of the ice as much as from his regard.
This was the only man to ogle her since their arrival yesterday morning. All other eyes had been glued on Sam. Ogles like this were few and far between--Sam or no Sam. Better to enjoy the few directed her way because all too soon the time would come when no one ogled her at all.
“Allow me to get you another drink,” Mr. Sexy Body said.
“It was just the dregs of iced tea, but thanks anyway,” Reed replied sweetly and gave him a sassy smile. Maybe he’d be in the casino later tonight. Which game did he play? Poker? Black Jack? Craps? Most likely wouldn’t see him in the nickel slots.
He waved for a waiter, then pulled a wooden chair close, laid another towel over it and sat down beside her. “My name is Gray.”
“Hello, Gray, I’m Reed.” She shook the hand he extended. Large and warm, it swallowed hers, making her feel petite and delicate. “This is my friend, Sam.”
“Sam.” Acknowledging the other woman to be polite, Gray nodded toward the brunette.
She was pretty enough, but it was the redhead who’d caught his eye. At least, he thought she was a redhead. Hard to tell with the huge hat she wore. Since most of the men nearby were focused on the brunette, he’d have an open field to the smaller, more curvaceous woman. Which suited him fine, as she was just his style anyway. He’d watched the two women long enough to see that as long as she sat next to her friend, she had no clue of her value. He could show her.
Acknowledging the waiter with a nod, he turned his attention back to Reed. “Iced tea? Or something a little stronger?”
“Is it after five yet?” Reed quipped without missing a beat.
Gray had his reply ready. “It is in New York.”
“Well then,” Reed paused, then glanced at her friend. “What say you, wench?”
“Oh, by all means, Long Island or Cape Codder at least,” Sam agreed with a toothy grin.
“Three Long Islands,” he told the waiter and turned back to the women. “I believe the sun is well over the yardarm.”
“Thanks.” Reed gifted him with a dazzling smile.
“My pleasure. What are you lovely ladies doing in Las Vegas this fine day? Did I overhear you discussing cowboys?” He bit back a laugh when Reed ducked her head to hide her face under the large hat she wore.
Watching as she fussed with the towel he’d given her, Gray figured she was trying to find words to cover her embarrassment. At least she hadn’t wrapped the see-through shirt back over her chest after wiping up the spill. The very fact she swathed herself in tantalizing fabrics made her sexier than the women strutting by in their string bikinis.
Her pampered, pale skin enhanced her resemblance to a Celtic queen of mystic legend. She belonged in a forest primeval with a pool of clear water at her feet and a wreath of wild flowers circling her head. Just like the woman in his dream.
The talk of dude ranches had been a convenient excuse for him to approach them, but the true hook in his gut had been the discussion of her dream and the name “Carrick.”
Pulling his attention back from his musings, he noticed Sam wasn’t prone to embarrassment. He smiled when she cast an affectionate glance at her oblivious friend.
“We’re just catching our breath before moseying on to our dude ranch retreat tomorrow,” Sam told him, and settled back in her lounge, a sleek goddess, bronzed and oiled in her tiny yellow suit.
Gray sat so he was turned toward them yet could still see most of the pool. It also allowed him to take advantage of the shade from Reed’s umbrella. From there he could easily converse with both women who looked to be around thirty. Without seeing their eyes it was hard to tell. No wedding rings. Again, not very helpful. Reed’s hat just made it worse.
All he could see was her chest, her almost pointy chin, and bow-shaped lips. It seemed likely she had a heart-shaped face to match the heart-shaped backside and hourglass figure he’d seen when they arrived. With her milk-white skin, she was most likely a true redhead, but until she removed the wide-brimmed hat, he could only guess. While it was smart of her to cover up in the harsh sun, he felt deprived. He wanted to see more of her. All of her.
“Forgive me for saying so, but you two don’t look like the dude ranch sort,” he said to keep the conversation from stalling.
Reed snorted. “You don’t say.” She laughed and glanced at her friend before looking back at him.
She had a million-watt smile with a show-stopping laugh, and probably didn’t know it. The music of it stroked his heartstrings. Gray felt the stirring he’d been trying to ignore for the last hour rise up again, and he lifted a foot to rest an ankle on the opposite knee. Thankfully, he wore loose swim trunks.
Aside from their conversation, her laugh had drawn him over as much as the ice down her magnificent cleavage. The smile alone would keep him attached to her hip--and any place else she’d let him latch on to.
Gray nearly snatched the towel from her when she curled her legs to the side and turned slightly in his direction. If she separated her knees a little and let the wrap open a tad more, he’d have a raging hard-on that would be damn near impossible to hide. Better she remained coy for the moment.
“Which ranch?” he asked while the waiter handed out drinks. Making sure the ladies had theirs first, Gray signed the ticket before taking a deep sip and savoring the icy refreshment. Not too sweet, good. Two of these ought to break down her resistance.
“Oh, somewhere not far from Denver.” Reed waved her hand dismissively and sipped her drink. “Well, the sun must be over the yardarm. Why didn’t we get drinks like this last night?” She tossed the question to her friend.
“Nobody was trying to hit on us last night.” Sam lowered her sunglasses enough to wink at Gray. “So, we got the watered down version.”
“Hey, who says I’m hitting on you?” He laughed.
Reed lowered her sunglasses enough to give him a disbelieving once over.
Green eyes. Eyes he’d seen before in only one place. Gray smiled to cover the lurch of his heart. Heavily lashed, large, and open, these were not just any average emerald, hazel or blue eyes, but an exquisite, deep, smoky, jade green--like the stone he favored. He’d have to wait until they were in better light to confirm the exact shade, but the tightening of his stomach said he was right. These were the eyes he’d been searching for.
Stunned, he sat and stared like a pubescent teen seeing a supermodel in the flesh.
Like the sigh of the faintest summer breeze, he felt the caress of those beautiful eyes on his skin before she pushed the concealing glasses back into place. Feeling like he’d been hit by lightning, he covered his reaction by nearly finishing his drink in one long gulp.
“Right. Did you hear that, Sam? He’s not hitting on us.”
Reed’s musical laugh acted like a hand wrapping around his heart and Gray longed to feel her wrapping around another part of him. The part stealing all the blood from his brain. Much more torture like this and he could forget about impressing her with intelligence. Send over the towel boy to wipe up the drool.
Gray’s grin widened as he lowered his glass. “Actually, not that your friend isn’t attractive, but I can’t handle two beauties and your attraction is far stronger. I’m really just hitting on you.” He chuckled at Reed’s mock gasp of outrage.
This one had a healthy sense of humor. That was a relief. Had she been humorless it would have been a disappointment. A challenge, but a disappointment nonetheless. No, not her. Humor was one of her gifts.
“Shameless ploy, Mr. Gray.” Reed tsked, then wrapped her luscious lips around the thin straw in her drink.
“Honest. I’m a sucker for milk-skinned maidens. I appreciate a bronzed goddess as well, but I mean no disrespect when I say your friend doesn’t hold a candle to you.” Oh, Reed of the luscious red lips. What would her lips feel like?
The perfect O of surprise they made right now nearly ruined his plan to look cool and sophisticated. To leap onto her lounge chair and start kissing her might result in an assault charge he really didn’t need.
“Ha! See?” Sam exclaimed. “Just what I’ve been telling you for years, trollop! I think I might like this guy you picked up.” She threw a brilliant smile his direction and raised her glass to him.
Raising his own glass in response, Gray returned the grin while Reed spluttered and had to use the towel to again dry her beautiful skin. How refreshing for someone as attractive as Sam to know the value of her friend. Integrity and loyalty such as hers were precious commodities.
“Do you two always call each other such names?” While it was undoubtedly another sign of mutual deep affection, he found it curious they used antiquated English insults. He was tempted to grab the towel and wipe away the drool close to dribbling down his chin. After licking the drops off Reed’s skin, of course.
“Trollop, wench, hussy, baggage, strumpet, shrew…slut.” Reed shrugged. “Whatever suits the moment.” Did she really think the coy tilt of her head would cover a blush? “But that’s between us. Anyone else tries it…”
Gray’s body shook as he laughed at her glower. “I get it. Anyone else who tries is toast. So, what’s with the ranch?” He didn’t dare ask about the dream now. Later, once she knew him better. In his dreams he’d listen for himself. The thought very nearly made him groan. To get Reed into his bed--
“Back to that are we?” Reed’s brow wrinkled. “Not vacation at all. A work thing. Team building. Sam and I took an extra few days off to stop here. We’re not really driving on to Denver. We’ll catch a flight tomorrow, then drive up to the ranch. Somewhere in the Rockies, an hour or two from the airport. Or so they say.”
The back of Gray’s neck tingled with what he recognized as anticipation. “You don’t seem impressed even though it sounds like you grew up around ranches.”
“Boy, you really were eavesdropping, weren’t you?”
He had the impression she rolled her eyes. “Sorry, the subject of horses catches my attention.” That, and the name Carrick associated with a dream.
“Oh? Why is that?”
The tingling at his neck increased as he sensed sharp eyes peering at him from behind the mirrored lenses. Damn, he couldn’t tell exactly where she looked. Unsettled by an odd twinge of nervousness, he rested his cold glass on his thigh to disguise his attraction indicator. Might be time to jump in the pool. One end was nearly shaded, maybe he could talk her into the water. “I hang out with horses from time to time,” he answered casually.
“Well, other than once riding behind a friend, in junior high, and galloping through the vineyards, I haven’t been around horses since I was three or four. I’m a city girl.” Reed slipped the straw between her lips again and spoke around it. “From whence do you hail, Mr. Gray?”
He grinned at the quicksilver change of her mood. Playful and flirtatious. This might work out better than he hoped since he was ready to play with something other than numbers and merchants.
Playtime was the very reason he’d stopped here the night before last. Another couple of hours and he could have landed in Vail, but he wasn’t ready to face the family yet. And if she’s the one…so much the better. Cosmic forces at play? Bring it on.
He was doubly glad he’d stopped. The feeling of anticipation grew stronger.
Fresh from a long month scouring the Far East markets for just the right crystals and innovative physicists, he and Roger had both been due for a layover and necessary rest.
Not only his pilot but right hand man, Roger had been pleased with the unplanned stop in Vegas. After two nights and a day of blowing off steam, Roger now slept off the excess pleasure in a lounge chair across the pool.
“I’m from no place in particular, but the family homestead is high in the legendary Rockies.”
“Ah, therefore the question about the dude ranch.” Reed nodded and he watched her relax in her lounger, idly pushing the towel aside.
That was part of what he wanted. Her skin fairly glowed against the severe black she wore.
Why did curvy women lean toward black? Did they think it made them less visible? He wanted to see her in electric blue, maybe with a swirling design in the fabric to emphasize her melon-shaped breasts. A little smaller than cantaloupes, he bet they tasted just as sweet as ripe fruit.
“Yes, the question about the ranch,” Gray answered her. “I was raised on one. Was lucky to escape to college. My brother got the business.”
“Still, you’re some sort of cowboy.” With a wave of her hand he knew she had him neatly categorized. Funny, since he’d never considered himself a cowboy. “I can’t remember the name of where we’re going. I’m told it isn’t far from Vail or some hot springs. Supposed to be pretty swank. All I really care about are the hot springs.” Reed rolled her neck and he could hear the vertebrae pop. “They tell me there’s a masseuse on staff. I doubt I’ll even touch a horse, though Sam made me pack jeans and cowboy boots. But just to be proper, I did indulge in a Stetson.”
“Tell me you didn’t pack the obligatory snap shirt,” he teased.
“Of course I did. For the evening campfire I’m sure they’ll drag me to.” Reed snorted. “They told me it was a requirement, just in case one needed to shed a shirt quickly, like if it got caught by a horn or branch.”
Or caught in his hands. Gray smiled into his ice cubes. He’d count as something horny. The thought sobered him almost immediately. Getting caught by a bull’s horn was no teasing matter, as his brother Dustin would no doubt confirm right now. Damn, that’s why he should have just kept flying. He’d hear about it, for sure, when they arrived. Too late, now. Roger was in no condition to fly until morning.
“How many from your company will be there? And what company is it?” he asked casually, wanting to verify the funny feeling they were headed for his family ranch. There were only a few in the vicinity, and the others couldn’t be described as swank. Budget-minded would describe them better.
He glanced across the pool to where Roger lazily stirred. Tomorrow, for sure. Better let Roger know they’d be heading out so he wouldn’t be in violation of FAA flight rules about drinking.
“Sam? Do you remember the name of the place?”
Gray was treated to a glimpse of lovely neck when Reed swiveled her head to look at her friend.
“Eagle Mountain,” Sam said.
Reed looked back at him. “Sound familiar?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t hold back the grin. “Which cabin are you bunked in? Or are you in one of the multiple unit lodges?”
“The one with the outdoor hot tub.” Reed rubbed her neck again.
“There are two.” He could ease those tense and aching muscles. Funny, he had a few himself that she could ease.
“Sounds like we’ll be on your turf, then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave them his best cowboy drawl. Where was his hat? He had a sudden mad urge to tip it.

About the Author
A long time resident of Alaska, empty nester Morgan Q. O’Reilly prefers to spend her winters snuggled with her husband and new puppy. Long days are spent working her way through a pile of yarn while she knits stories that sometimes leap into the stars. 


Cowboys Dream Too
Author’s Print Edition

Copyright 2013 Morgan Quinn O’Reilly
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