From New York Times best selling author Maisey Yates, comes SMOOTH-TALKING COWBOY—the first standalone novel in her Gold Valley Series!
SMOOTH-TALKING COWBOY is now available.
Grab your copy today!
SMOOTH-TALKING
COWBOY Synopsis
Welcome to Gold Valley, Oregon, where a
rough-and-tumble rancher and the girl next door are about to learn that
opposites attract
Olivia Logan has a plan: win back her ex by making him see what he’s missing. But first she needs to find a man who’s willing to play along. With his laid-back cowboy charm and knack for getting under her skin, Luke Hollister is an unlikely hero—but he wants her help convincing her father to sell him land, which means he needs her as much as she needs him.
Luke likes his life—and his women—uncomplicated. So why does good girl Olivia heat his blood like no one else? She’s always been off-limits, but the more time they spend as Gold Valley’s hottest new “couple,” the more real it’s starting to feel. Luke was supposed to help her win back another man…not keep her in his arms. But now that he has her there, he’s not sure he’ll ever let go.
Olivia Logan has a plan: win back her ex by making him see what he’s missing. But first she needs to find a man who’s willing to play along. With his laid-back cowboy charm and knack for getting under her skin, Luke Hollister is an unlikely hero—but he wants her help convincing her father to sell him land, which means he needs her as much as she needs him.
Luke likes his life—and his women—uncomplicated. So why does good girl Olivia heat his blood like no one else? She’s always been off-limits, but the more time they spend as Gold Valley’s hottest new “couple,” the more real it’s starting to feel. Luke was supposed to help her win back another man…not keep her in his arms. But now that he has her there, he’s not sure he’ll ever let go.
Grab
your copy of SMOOTH-TALKING COWBOY today!
EXCERPT
Luke
Hollister was kissing her.
He
was only the second man to kiss her. The second man to ever put his mouth
against hers. But at the moment, she couldn’t even compare the two experiences.
She was frozen, and Luke was still, too, but he was… Him.
He
tasted like Luke. Like sunshine and hard work. Like whiskey that lingered on
his lips. And like a whole lot of trouble.
It
was more than just taste, more than just the strange sensation of a mouth that
was an unfamiliar shape pressed against hers. It transcended those physical
things.
And
it went somewhere deeper.
She
was on fire. Melting. Her legs were weak, her stomach trembling. It was as if
she had never been kissed before at all. That’s how different it was.
His
hand was so big, and it was pressed against her lower back, like he owned her.
His other hand came up to cup her face—rough, callused—skimming over her
cheekbone. He didn’t take the kiss deeper. Didn’t part her lips.
It
was over in less than a second.
A
chaste kiss. A simple kiss.
That
left nothing chaste or simple remaining in her entire body.
There
was a pulse pounding insistently between her legs, a slick wetness that had
built up in defiance of everything she knew about herself. Her heart was pounding,
her breasts heavy, her nipples tightened into painful points.
It
was over. Over long before she was able to move or think or react at all. Over
long before she realized they were still standing in the middle of the Gold Valley
saloon, rather than in some moment that existed outside of space and time.
Luke
Hollister had just kissed her in front of everyone.
Bennett
was there. She remembered that too late. She remembered everything too late.
Including why they were doing this. Of course. He was making a show, as he had
promised he would do. And he was definitely trying to get a rise out of her,
which she expected, because he was Luke.
All
of that made sense. Except none of it made sense. Not inside of her anyway.
“Throw
the dart,” he said, his mouth so close to hers it would take nothing for her
lips to touch his again. Nothing at all.
Then
he withdrew, taking a step back and leaning against the table again, all cocky
arrogance and that kind of masculine swagger she hated. She did. She hated it.
And right now she was pretty sure she might hate him, too.
She
turned away from him, drew her arm back and threw the dart. And it missed.
She
hadn’t missed a bull’s-eye without meaning to in more than ten years.
Hot,
angry tears pricked her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Because that was
just stupid. This was a game. That was all. It was supposed to be a game where
they made Bennett jealous. Where they made him think that he was in danger of
losing her.
It
was supposed to make Bennett feel wild and unpleasant things; it was not
supposed to make her feel wild and unpleasant things.
Too
late she remembered to look over at Bennett. And when she did, she had to force
herself. He was facing away from them. For all she knew, he hadn’t even seen
the kiss.
“He
saw.”
She
blinked, feeling numb. “What?”
Luke
was looking at her, his expression grave. “Bennett saw the kiss,” he said.
And
just like that, she felt about two feet tall. Because not only had he read her
mind just now, it confirmed to her
that Bennett was all he had been thinking about during the kiss. She hadn’t
thought of Bennett until after. Much, much after. But Luke had been aware the
entire time. And then, when she had been standing there feeling vulnerable and
reduced, desperately trying to remember the purpose behind this entire interaction,
he had read her. Unerringly.
Meanwhile,
she couldn’t read him or Bennett or anything. She couldn’t even read herself.
“Good,”
she said, as if it was all she cared about. As if there was nothing more
conflicting inside of her than whether or not they had managed to affect
Bennett.
To
say nothing about how she had been affected.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Maisey Yates lives in rural Oregon with her three children and her husband, whose chiseled jaw and arresting features continue to make her swoon. She feels the epic trek she takes several times a day from her office to her coffee maker is a true example of her pioneer spirit.
In 2009, at the age of twenty-three Maisey sold her first book. Since then it’s been a whirlwind of sexy alpha males and happily ever afters, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Maisey divides her writing time between dark, passionate category romances set just about everywhere on earth and light sexy contemporary romances set practically in her back yard. She believes that she clearly has the best job in the world.
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