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    Curves and the Billionaire Ranch Hand (BBW Western Romance - Coldwater Springs 9): Coldwater Springs, #9
    Curves and the Billionaire Ranch Hand (BBW Western Romance - Coldwater Springs 9): Coldwater Springs, #9
    Curves and the Billionaire Ranch Hand (BBW Western Romance - Coldwater Springs 9): Coldwater Springs, #9
    Ebook86 pages1 hour

    Curves and the Billionaire Ranch Hand (BBW Western Romance - Coldwater Springs 9): Coldwater Springs, #9

    By Jenn Roseton

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    About this ebook

    Curvy Abigail Peters visits a dude ranch for research purposes for her next romance novel, never expecting to fall in love with tall, sexy Riley, the ranch manager.

    But when Riley reveals he’s not the ranch hand but the owner, and that he’s a billionaire, can Abigail accept his deception?

    Will she let her insecurities about her curves stand in the way of a real, loving relationship or will she take a chance on love?

    This is a complete sexy contemporary romance novella of approximately 20,000 words (the longest to date in this series) that can be read as a standalone.

    EXTRACT:

    She’d fantasized about him last night. He’d kissed her after they’d returned from exploring the ranch. He’d helped her off her horse, then he’d cupped her face in his hands and kissed her until she was breathless and clinging to him …

    “Abigail!” Riley emerged from the barn, leading two Western saddled horses, one a dappled gray, the other black with white patches all over its coat. He wore dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt, his muscular physique filling out the t-shirt in a way that made her quiver with appreciation.

    “Hi.” She cleared her throat, hoping he couldn’t glean from her expression that she’d just been dreaming of his lips on hers.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJenn Roseton
    Release dateAug 12, 2015
    ISBN9781519991461
    Curves and the Billionaire Ranch Hand (BBW Western Romance - Coldwater Springs 9): Coldwater Springs, #9

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      Book preview

      Curves and the Billionaire Ranch Hand (BBW Western Romance - Coldwater Springs 9) - Jenn Roseton

      Abigail Peters pulled up outside the open gate and read the large sign in block letters on a polished piece of wood: Meadowlark Dude Ranch. She was definitely in the right place.

      The well-kept gravel drive beckoned to her, and she slowly drove through the wooden gate, marveling at the tall, green pine trees and vast expanses of pasture. She rolled down her window and took a deep breath of the June air. It was wonderful to get out of the city and to breathe in some fresh air - a hint of pine, and just - clean.

      Her editor, Carla, suggested she book a vacation here. Cowboys are hot, darling, were the older woman’s whiskey-coated last words to her. "Book a vacation at a dude ranch, soak it all in, and write me a cowboy romance. Sexual tension up the wazoo!"

      And Abigail had obeyed. Because the last thing she wanted to do was to go back to her full-time job, working in a cubicle forty hours per week, fielding customer service enquiries, a headset clamped around her scalp.

      Ever since she’d been at college, she’d worked hard on her writing. And eventually, it had paid off. She’d written practically every workday, plus many hours on the weekends, honing her craft, taking workshops, joining Romance Writers of America and the local chapter meetings, and finally, finally, she’d gotten published. Although it was her first published book, it was the fifth romance she’d written. The previous ones were consigned to a flash drive in her desk at home.

      But she hadn’t taken the plunge to quit her job until late last year, when she’d handed in her third book. And last week, she’d just sent Carla her fourth, when Carla had surprised her with the idea for a vacation on a dude ranch.

      And of course, it should be tax deductible. Check with your accountant, her editor had said. What could be better?

      Abigail parked in front of a ranch house, its white clapboard and tidy porch sporting a planter with yellow primroses lending it a homey air. Nobody seemed to be around.

      She’d been surprised but pleased when she’d searched online for dude ranches and found a listing for this guest ranch, and thought perhaps the name was a good sign, since her pen name was Annabel Lark. She’d always wanted to visit Wyoming and this was her chance! And even better, they’d had a vacancy. But now, looking around from the safety of the car, the place seemed deserted. They were expecting her, weren’t they?

      She got out of the car, and walked in a small circle, a little puff of dust rising from the crunch of her shoes on the gravel.

      Peace and quiet.

      A cow mooed in the distance, making her start. She hadn’t realized before how loud cows were.

      Still nobody came to greet her.

      Just green grass, blue sky, and more tall pine trees bordering a section of the driveway.

      She looked at her silver watch with the pale rose leather strap. Three p.m. Thursday. Surely someone was around somewhere?

      Abigail yawned, covering her mouth. She’d been wedged into a tiny seat in coach, a little boy behind her kicking her seat for practically the whole four-hour flight from Sacramento. And then she’d driven two hours to get here. Right now, all she wanted to do was take a shower and relax. Preferably on a comfortable bed.

      A faint clang sounded, and she turned toward the sound. Perhaps somebody was working behind the house.

      She headed toward the noise, mentally rehearsing what to say. Since she’d become a full-time writer, she realized she really didn’t get out much. Maybe once or twice per week to run errands and do her grocery shopping, and attend a writers’ meeting, but she didn’t have the interaction with colleagues she’d experienced with her nine-to-five job. And since she was a naturally shy person, sometimes she found it hard to talk to strangers, even when she needed to. This situation was a perfect example.

      A large brown barn came into view. The paint was weathered, but it looked to be in good condition. The clanging noise sounded again, this time louder.

      Hello? She peered in through the open door, but couldn’t see anything except darkness. Should she go in? Or wait out here?

      There was a moment of silence, then she heard the sound of booted footsteps.

      A tall, broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties emerged from the barn. Russet brown hair, straight nose, firm jaw. He wore faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt smudged with dirt. But the dirt didn’t stop her from being able to get a glimpse of the cotton clinging to his muscular chest.

      Her eyes widened. He would be the perfect looking hero for her next romance.

      Can I help you? He wiped his hands on a piece of towel. Are you lost?

      No, I don’t think so, she replied, telling herself to breathe and suck in her tummy at the same time. Since she was only five foot six, her curves had a tendency to overwhelm her frame, at least that’s what she told herself, instead of deciding to go on yet another diet that always ended up in disaster.

      So she’d given up on the diets, and decided to hold herself tall - as tall as she could be at her height, and suck her tummy in when she remembered.

      This is the Meadowlark Dude Ranch, isn’t it? That’s what the sign said at the gate.

      Sure is. He grinned at her.

      I have a reservation? She cursed as she up-spoke, turning her statement into a question at the end. She only did that when she was nervous.

      Abigail Peters? He looked at her intently.

      Yes. She attempted to give him a confident smile.

      I’m Riley, the manager. He looked at his hand as if checking it was clean before holding it out.

      Hi. She placed her pale plump hand into his much larger, tanned one.

      A shock of electricity raced up her arm.

      Riley frowned. Someone should have met you at the house. Did you go there?

      "I parked there but I

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