Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
My dad and I have been estranged for years. But as his only living relative, it’s no surprise I inherit his massive cattle ranch when he dies. Something that is a surprise? The stipulation in his will, which requires me to live on the ranch and actively manage it for a year before I can access my inheritance money.
I haven’t stepped foot in Hartsville, Texas, population one thousand, since my parents split when I was six. Now a city girl through and through, I never imagined having to move back to cowboy country. But I need the money to invest in my company, and a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
There’s just one giant roadblock to my plan: the ranch’s foreman, grumpy cowboy Cash Rivers. I don’t care how good he looks in his Wranglers and chaps. He’s rude, he’s growly, and he wants me gone. I’d fire him in a heartbeat, but I need this cowboy to teach me the ropes of running a ranch.
We’re enemies from the get-go. But turns out, Cash is really good at this ranch thing. He’s got strong hands, an intelligent mind, and let’s just say everything really is bigger in Texas. Working alongside him leads to conversations beneath the stars. Throw in some cheek-to-cheek dancing at the local dive bar, and it all feels so right that I start to fall in love with life on the ranch. And maybe with him, too.
But my stay in Hartsville is only temporary. And you know what they say about cowboys: they may break horses, but they also break hearts. If only Cash hadn’t already lassoed mine…
CASH is the first standalone book in the brand new steamy, interconnected Lucky River Ranch Series.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
Mollie
KISS MY ASS, COWBOY
SEPTEMBER
I’m deep in cowboy country, but I still jam on the brakes when I see an actual cowboy park his actual horse outside an actual saloon.
Have I gone back in time?
Or is the whole scene a mirage? My dashboard does say it’s 109 degrees outside.
The cloud of dust that’s followed me since Belton billows around my SUV, temporarily obscuring the view of a building marked The Rattler.
The Hill Country dust clears. Yep, that’s definitely a horse.
And that’s definitely a guy in slim-cut jeans and a cowboy hat sliding off the saddle with an ease that makes my breath catch.
Mom’s words echo inside my head: Hartsville is a one-horse town. I didn’t know she meant that literally.
I feel a whisper of recognition as I take in the building’s façade behind the cowboy and his horse. It’s two stories, brick, with windows whose uneven panes glint in the hazy afternoon light. A faded green-and-black striped awning bears the image of a white rattlesnake, its forked tongue protruding from between its fangs.
I was six years old the last time I was in this tiny town, smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Why would I remember a bar of all places?
“Mollie? Did I lose you?”
My stomach seizes, the sound of Wheeler’s voice on the phone yanking me back inside the Range Rover. Without looking, I immediately hit the gas, then send up a silent prayer of thanks that Main Street is deserted. No one to hit, thank God.
Well, except for the cowboy and his horse, who I glimpse at in my rearview mirror. I’m less than two hundred miles southwest of Dallas, but I might as well be on another planet for how different this place feels.
I reach for the vent beside the steering wheel and aim a blast of AC at my face. “Sorry, I’m here. I just got to Hartsville and…I think I may have just had an Outlander moment? But a Western-themed one, with a saloon and a cowboy.”
My best friend and business partner’s raspy laugh pours through the speakers. “Bring cowboy Jamie back to Dallas. Tell him city life is better.”
“No shit.” I peer out my windshield as my GPS tells me I’m approaching my destination. “Mom wasn’t joking when she said there was nothing out here.”
“Get your money and get the hell out of Dodge. Call me when you’re done, okay? I’m thinking of you.”
I smile, even as my stomach seizes again. “Thanks, friend. I can’t wait for the pop-up.”
“Same. I’m so curious to see how it goes.”
One of Dallas’s better-known boutiques is hosting a pop-up shop for our cowboy boot company this week. The boutique’s clientele is fashion-forward and well-heeled, so we’ll hopefully make a decent number of sales. Lord knows we could use the revenue.
Hanging up, I slow down in front of the last building on the left before Main Street continues down a desolate stretch of nothingness ahead. The chalk-colored dirt, dotted sparsely with trees, cacti, and brush, wavers in the mid-afternoon heat.