Reviews
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.
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.
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.
“Hmm?”
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.
ENTER THE GIVE AWAY HERE
Cowboys Dream Too
Author’s Print Edition
Copyright 2013 Morgan Quinn O’Reilly
All Rights Reserved
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