Showing posts with label Myla Jackson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Myla Jackson. Show all posts

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Satisfy your desire for a Real Man with COWBOY HEAT


COWBOY HEAT
an Anthology of Cowboy Romance
Edited by Delilah Devlin
from Cleis Press

Broad Shoulders, Well-Worn Jeans and a Lean-Hipped Swagger

He may ride off into the sunset, but the cowboy in our heart never goes out of style. Even when coated with dust from riding alongside a herd of cattle or up to his knees in mud taming a wild stallion, this stud still generates plenty of Cowboy Heat.

USA Today bestselling author Delilah Devlin takes you back to the ranch with stories of rugged romantics, rough riders, and rope wranglers sure to satisfy your desire for a real man. In “Shall We Dance?,” by Myla Jackson, a waltz teacher learns about rhythm from her rancher student at the Flying M. The rodeo champion in Megan Mitcham’s “Coming Home” discovers that true love might be waiting at the end of the trail. A high school reunion at the honky tonk finds a city girl back in the strong arms of her cowboy crush in Cat Johnson’s “Unfinished Business.” Saddle up!

“A wild ride!” —Beth Williamson, author of Hell for Leather

“Devlin Devlin is the go-to for cowboy romance that will make you hot under the collar.” —USA Today
 
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

 


“Mrs. Morgan and the Marshal” by Emma Jay
A dalliance with the sexy town marshal makes a woman rancher question which she wants most, her independence or him

“Remember” by Mia Hopkins
A jilted bride saddles up with the blazing-hot cowboy stripper hired for her cancelled bachelorette party

“Cowboy Downtime” by Cheyenne Blue
Passion ignites at a polocrosse game in the Australian outback—she plays attack, he plays defense, and their sexy wager decides the winner

“Coming Home” by Megan Mitcham
A busted-up rodeo champion finds the squirt he tormented in youth transformed into a fiery woman challenging him to become the man she deserves

“Her Captured Cowboy” by Layla Chase
A lonely woman, ostracized by Colorado townspeople after years in Indian captivity, takes what she needs from a wandering cowboy

“Back Stage Pass” by Cynthia D’Alba
A sexy night with a hired escort, who looks exactly like a woman’s favorite country singer, leaves her with a back stage pass and a lot of burning questions

“Unfinished Business” by Cat Johnson
A class reunion gives one woman a second chance with a sultry cowboy from her past

“At the Mercy of the Cowboy” by Amber Lin
A new farmhand finds rough living and an even rougher cowboy to soothe away her pain

“Cowboy Adonis” by Michael Bracken
When a naked cowboy rises from a stock pond, a nature photographer’s assignment gets personal

“Denim and Lace” by Robie Madison
One woman in a pair of rhinestone heels plus two sexy cowboys equals a highly combustible combination

“One Track Cowboy” by Delilah Devlin
After tracking two lost hikers, a park ranger and a local rancher lose themselves to a wild passion

“Skin Deep” by Randi Alexander
A pretty city girl and a scarred country cowboy discover love waits when you’re ready to look beneath the surface

“Drop Two Tears in a Bucket” by Shoshanna Evers
Alone on her Montana cattle ranch after her husband divorces her, a woman finds satisfaction in the arms of the one cowboy she can’t resist

“A Cowboy for Delilah” by Sabrina York
The last thing this independent, high-powered lawyer wants is a cowboy in her life, but one steamy kiss from a sexy rancher burns her resolve to a crisp

“Shall We Dance?” by Myla Jackson
When a lonely woman gives private dance lessons to a shy, sexy cowboy, she stumbles on passion worth fighting for
 

a guest post by

Author Sabrina York

 
A Cowboy for Delilah by Sabrina York
I was thrilled to be included in the scorching cowboy Heat Anthology from Delilah Devlin. When the call came out, I knew I had to submit a story…and I had a cowboy bubbling in my imagination.
Landon McCoy.
Now, who doesn’t love a cowboy? Muscular, strong and perhaps a little dusty? They are iconic romance heroes. So I wanted to do something a little different… I wanted a heroine who didn’t like them. Delilah is just coming off a bad experience with a cowboy, and has sworn off the breed. When she meets Landon, she is unprepared for the heat that slams her like a tsunami.
As for the rest of it, my inspiration for this scorching story? Well, I don’t want to give anything away, but you can check out my Pintrest Cowboy page (http://www.pinterest.com/sabrinayork/cowboys/) for a hint.
Here’s a little more about my steamy addition to the Heat…
Blurb
The last thing this independent, high-powered lawyer wants is a cowboy in her life, but one steamy kiss from a sexy rancher burns her resolve to a crisp

READ AN EXCERPT

What a disaster. Delilah glared at her rental car in helpless frustration. She hated the feeling. She was hardly a frail, fragile woman. She prided herself on the fact that she was self-sufficient and didn’t need anyone. Counting on others was, after all, a recipe for disappointment.
Hard, cold experience had taught her that.
Yet here she was. In the boondocks. In six-inch heels. With a flat tire.
Oh, she could change a fricking tire. Hell, she could rip out and refurbish a transmission. But the idiots at the wilderness rental car company hadn’t bothered to put a jack in the trunk. She was resourceful…but not that resourceful.  Even if she could channel her MacGyveresque tendencies, there was nothing out on this barren plain she could use to lever her car up high enough to do the job.
So here she stood by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, in six-inch heels and without cell phone service—the epitome of a helpless woman. All she needed was slasher music and she could be the star of a horror flick.
A plume of dust blossomed on the horizon and her mood lifted. Oh, thank god. Someone was coming. No one had passed in the two hours since the blowout.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a slasher.
The plume grew. A beat-up pickup topped one rise, and then the next. The truck rolled to a stop in front of her crippled Honda.
Oh. Lovely. Her savior had a gun rack.
Delilah covered her mouth and nose as the cloud of dust caught up with the truck and engulfed her. Angie’s birthday party had better be worth all this trouble.
She plastered a smile on her face and turned to greet the Good Samaritan. At least, she hoped he was a Good Samaritan. She was quite alone on this deserted stretch of road and—
Oh god.
He unfolded himself from the cab of his truck, and her breath wedged in her throat. He was enormous. And, judging from his ratty chambray shirt, shit-kicker boots and Stetson, he was a cowboy.
She hated cowboys. Selfish, misogynistic sons of bitches. Her fake smile threatened to become a very real grimace.
He stepped closer through the lingering cloud of dust, and Delilah’s heart ker-chunked. He was gorgeous. Not only was he tall—which she really liked in a man—he was big. Broad and brawny and muscular. His face was a dream from his heavily lashed brown eyes to the intriguing dent on his chin. She had to remind herself why cowboys and city girls didn’t mix, but even that couldn’t keep her from ogling his forearms. His sleeves were rolled up, just enough to give her a glimpse of defined veins and a sprinkling of dark hair. She loved veiny forearms.
Damn. Why couldn’t he have been something other than a cowboy? Or, if he had to be a cowboy, why couldn’t he have been an old one…with Dunlap syndrome—where his belly done lapped over his belt?
“Howdy.” His voice was deep and smoky.
Delilah couldn’t appreciate the sultry timbre. Of all greetings in the universe, Howdy was her least favorite.
“Having some trouble?” He whipped off his Stetson to wipe his brow and thick black curls tumbled out.
Curls. Not fair. Why couldn’t he be bald?
Delilah cleared her throat. “Flat tire.”
He glanced at her car. A dimple exploded on his cheek.
Fuck.
Dimples were her kryptonite.
“Would you like me to change it for you? You do have a spare?”
Yeah. There it was. Sure he was superhot, gorgeous and sexy as hell. But his patronizing tone squelched any simmering temptation she might have been harboring.
That’s how it was with cowboys, wasn’t it? They saw all women as helpless, idiot creatures stumbling around in six-inch heels, batting their lashes and flashing their boobs and simpering.
Delilah was not a simperer. She was a fuck-you, take-no-prisoners, hard-core lawyer, who could take care of herself just fine.
But she did have a flat. And no jack. She kinda needed his help.
So she batted her lashes. “Um. I think there’s a tire thingy in the…what do you call it? Trunk?” She affected a Southern drawl and thrust out her boobage, just for good measure.
It annoyed her that he bought her act. And it kind of didn’t. The bedazzled look in his eyes was a salve to her ego. After Trevor and all. It was nice to know she could still appeal to a man. Even a redneck cowboy.
He loped over to her car—yes, loped. She tried not to stare at his ass but his jeans were tight. It was a challenge to look elsewhere. He bent to search the trunk—again, a mighty fine ass—and stood, tipping back his Stetson. His profile, against the bird’s-egg-blue backdrop of the sky, stole her breath.
“There’s no jack.”
“No what?”
He sighed and headed for his truck, pulling out an impressively fancy jack. “This,” he said, “is a jack. You use it to lift the carriage up high enough to change the tire.”
It was so sweet the way he made his voice all slow and pedantic. You know, so she could understand. Idiot woman that she was.
“Gosh. You’re smart.” She probably didn’t need to gush quite that much, but hell, she hated condescending men. Especially cowboys. But she might as well have fun with this.
He knelt and fitted the jack and started cranking. His muscles bunched, forearms bulging with each pump.
Delilah sighed, and told herself it was only a pretend sigh, but her gaze was riveted to the sight. “You are such a big, strong man.”
He flashed a grin at her.
Yeah. Of course he did. Men loved to be told how big and strong they were. She completely ignored the dimples erupting all over his bristled cheek. Did he never shave? “How can I ever repay you?”
He stilled. The glint in his eye was horrifying. Crap. Had she gone too far with her helpless female shtick? She was all alone. On a deserted highway. With an enormous Neanderthal cowboy.
When he tipped his head to the side, her trepidation vanished. He looked more like a mischievous boy than a mad rapist-slasher. “How about a kiss?”
Delilah blinked. “A…what?”
“A kiss. Just a little one.”
Her brain fogged over. And it wasn’t horror at the prospect of a strange man demanding a kiss on the side of a deserted road that muddied the waters. It was pure exhilaration at the thought of his mouth devouring hers, those arms wrapping around her, that massive chest, warm and hard as he yanked her close…
Aw hell.
Why was she always attracted to the wrong guys? She wanted a man who liked opera and dreamed of traveling to Italy. Not a guy who listened to Country and Western music, spat chew into a bean can, and whose dream of an exciting evening was a night at the local bar playing pool.
“What do you say, ma’am? One kiss, in exchange for my…services?” When she hesitated, he repeated, “A little one.”
Why she nodded, she had no clue.
Well, she knew why she nodded—because she was incapable of speech.
Why she agreed was the mystery.
Then again, he was superhot. She ached to know how he tasted…and it wasn’t as though they would ever see each other again. Besides, if things got out of hand, she had mace. And she knew how to use it.
At her assent, he sprang into action. It was astounding how quickly he changed that tire. He tossed the flat into the trunk, returned his jack to his truck and wiped his hands.
“All done.”
Her heart skittered as he stepped closer.
“Time for payment.”  
WANT MORE COWBOYS?
Check out my Pintrest Page dedicated to these steamy hunks!
About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!
Books by Sabrina York
Brigand (Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soon
CURRENT PROMOS
Enter to win a signed print copy of scorching Regency romance, Dark Fancy on Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17409083-dark-fancy
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Like my Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks
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Thursday, April 3, 2014

Getting Lucky--in more ways than one!


Boots and Twisters
Ugly Stick Saloon, #7
By Myla Jackson
a Western Ménage Erotica
 Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
 Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon!

Two ranchers are about to get Lucky—in more ways than one.

Lucky Albright’s unlucky streak is so long and wide that she’s been run out of one town and it looks like it may happen again.

When she finds herself out of money and out of gas in Temptation, Texas, a part-time job from the kind owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon gives her a glimmer of hope that this time things will be different.

Trent Jameson and Isaac Moore have always believed you make your own luck, but a black cloud of disaster seems to hover over their new hand. Under a tumbling stack of hay, Isaac discovers what Lucky’s hiding beneath baggy clothes and a tough exterior. Enough sexy curves to satisfy both men’s appetites.

But it isn’t long before Lucky’s history starts wreaking havoc all over town. It’ll take a force of nature to help the ranchers convince the law, the Garden Club—even Lucky herself—that now is no time to hit the road.

Warning: Hot cowboys meet hot cowgirl, and there’s a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on in Temptation. Get your twist-and-shout on at the Ugly Stick Saloon!

Purchase Links


 

Excerpt:



Copyright © 2014 Myla Jackson

All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


Trent went to work stacking the hay on another wall, one bale at a time. Halfway through the stack, his muscles burned and he’d worked up a good sweat. He was feeling better and had almost forgotten the woman at the saloon.

With several tall columns of bales leaning against one wall, Trent was about to start a stack in front of them when a noise made him turn around.
A slim figure in jeans and a chambray shirt entered Thunder’s horse stall.
Thunder hadn’t been ridden since Dusty the ranch foreman had been tossed and ended up in the hospital.
Trent started to say something to the new ranch hand about the horse and his temperament. Before he could, the hand emerged, leading a placid Thunder out by his lead rope. If the horse had an attitude, it wasn’t on display that morning.
The cowboy had his head dipped, his cowboy hat pulled low. Between the dim lighting in the barn and the shadows from the rim of his hat, Trent couldn’t see the cowboy’s face. Covered in sweat and hay, Trent didn’t feel much like introducing himself yet. But he watched as the young man led the horse out of the barn. A few minutes later, he returned and entered the stall with the wheelbarrow, and soon had a pile of soiled straw loaded into it.
Trent resumed his work on the hay, keeping a watch on the new guy from the corner of his eye.
One stall after the other the young cowboy worked. When he completed the last stall and was pushing the last wheelbarrow load of soiled straw toward the door, Trent decided it was time to inspect the job and introduce himself.

"Wait up, there.” Trent tossed the bale he’d been carrying, dusted the straw off his gloves and crossed to the ranch hand. He glanced past the man’s shoulder into the cleaned stall and noted it was cleaner than he or Isaac usually got it. “Name’s Trent Jameson.” He held out his hand. “Nice work you’ve been doin’ there.”
For a moment the cowboy froze. Then gripped Trent’s hand with his own gloved one. “Thanks.” The cowboy refused to look up, keeping his chin tucked in, his head lowered.
Trent couldn’t look the man in the eye. He didn’t trust a man who wouldn’t look him directly in the eye. “You got a name?”
“Lucky.”

“Lucky.” Trent digested that. “Nickname?”
The ranch hand shook his head and tipped his hat lower over his head. “I better go dump this.” As he hurried around Trent, the wheel ran over Trent’s toe.

“Ow!” Trent yanked his foot back and teetered on one leg.
“Oh my gosh!” The cowboy’s hands flew in the air and the wheelbarrow dumped over, the contents rshing out, knocking Trent backward. He slammed into the freshly stacked hay bales and they swayed.
Trent glanced up, his breath hitching.

Crap.
“Oh no.” The young cowboy launched himself at the hay, tripped over the pile of dung and straw and, instead of catching the bales before they toppled, sprawled out on top of Trent.
The bales tipped and fell, one after the other, landing on or near them.
Several grunts sounded from the cowboy who took the bulk of the pummeling.
His hat flew off and long sandy-blonde hair tangled with the loose hay flying around the interior of the barn.
Trent blinked the hay and dust out of his eyes and stared up into pretty gray eyes, the color of storm clouds. “You!”
The woman he’d been dreaming about kissing planted her hands against his chest and tried to push herself off him.
“Yes, me.”
He opened his mouth to admit he thought he’d never see her again. Thinking better of it, he demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Working.” Jerking her leg out from under a heavy bale, she managed to roll off him and onto the ground. “What does it look like?” As agile as a cat, she shot to her feet.
“I can see that. But why?”
“Isaac hired me as the new ranch hand.”
“What?” Trent stood and stared at her.

“Is it so hard to believe a woman can be as effective and efficient at ranch work as a man?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t have to.” She stood, brushing the hay from her jeans but missing the straws stuck in her hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get to work cleaning this up.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with Isaac’s decision to hire you.
She planted her hands on her hips. “You gonna fire me?”
He glared at her. “I don’t know.”
“Well, until you say otherwise, I have work to do.”
Trent climbed over the bales to stand in front of her. “Like I said last night. You’re trouble.”
Something clouded her already stormy eyes. “Maybe, but I work hard and I know my way around a ranch.”
She grabbed a bale and threw it up onto the stack.
“I gathered that.” And she was beautiful with fire in her eyes and hay in her hair. Trent worked alongside her until they had all the hay stacked in neat rows. When they were done, he brushed straw off his body and grinned. She’d worked hefting as many bales as he had. So, she could lift bales.
Lucky flicked hay off her shoulders. “If we’re done here, there’s a fence on the northeast corner of the property I intend to fix.”
“You can’t do that.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because it’s a two-man—person—job.”
“I’ve strung fence with and without help. I can handle it.”
“Maybe so, but we use the buddy rule around here. Unless you’re working around the house or barn, you always take a buddy with you. That way if one or the other is hurt, you have someone there to help.”
She looked at him through slitted eyes. “You’re making that up.”
He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “When were you ever a Scout?”
His lips twisted. “Okay, so I’ve never been a Scout. But we do use the buddy system. I’ll go with you.”
Her full, soft lips tightened. “How do you usually get there?”
“I take the four-wheeler. You can ride on the back.”
“Is that how you and your partner…er, brother ride out?”
“We usually take a couple of four-wheelers, but one of them is in the shop for repair.”
She hesitated then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Trent gathered the come-along, a roll of barbed wire, pliers, a hammer and a couple of metal fence posts and the heavy pounder used to drive them in.
Lucky took half of the supplies and carried them out into the open, then went back for the other half while Trent pulled the four-wheeler out of one of the storage areas in the barn.
Loading what she could in the box on the back, she settled the fence posts over the box and Trent strapped them down along with the pole pounder.
“I’ll get my hat and be ready to go.” Lucky disappeared into the barn.
Isaac joined Trent, carrying two water bottles. He settled them in the box with the tools. “I take it you’ve met our new ranch hand.”
Trent gave Isaac a withering look. “Yeah. You could have warned me.”

“She has the experience and know-how. And from the looks of it, the stamina.” Isaac’s lips twitched.
“Don’t go there.”
 
Books visiting the Ugly Stick Saloon:

 

Night Owl Review a TOP PICK!:

 "Humor is everywhere in this erotic romance as it seems no matter what Lucky does something unexpected happens. But, this story is so much more than just a humorous romance. Lucky isn’t your typical female lead...I think this is one of the best stories in this series and that is saying a lot!"

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


 Myla Jackson aka Elle James spent twenty years livin' and lovin' in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Myla/Elle is proud to be writing full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. She has 39 works with Harlequin, self published works under pen name Elle James, over 40 works with other publishers including Samhain, Elloras' Cave, Kensington and Avon and 18 works self-published under pen name Myla Jackson. Now living in northwest Arkansas, she isn't wrangling cattle, she's wrangling her muses, a malti-poo and yorkie. When she's not at her computer, she's traveling, out snow-skiing, boating, or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.

Social Media:

Myla Jackson  Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads


ELLE JAMES  Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads


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