Lyndsy Sands writes some what like that but they are vamp romance
so are Mary Janice Davidson books but she writes about mermaids, werewolves and vampires.Any recommendations for trashy romance novels?
2 new Linda Lael Miller books:
Montana Creeds: Logan
Product Description
Descendants of the legendary McKettrick family, the Creeds are renowned in
Stillwater Springs, Montana鈥攆or raising hell鈥?br>
After years of wandering, Logan Creed, a cowboy with a dusty law degree, has
returned home. To put down roots, to restore his family's neglected ranch鈥o
have kids of his own proudly bearing the Creed name.
Divorced mom Briana Grant has heard the stories about her gorgeous neighbor. So
Logan's kindness with her young boys is a welcome surprise, especially when her
ex reappears. And when an unknown enemy vandalizes her home, Logan shows
Briana鈥攁nd the folks of Big Sky country鈥攋ust what he's made of.
Excerpt
The weathered wooden sign above the gate dangled from its posts by three links
of rusty chain. The words, hand-carved by Josiah Creed himself more than 150
years earlier, and then burned in deeper still with the edge of an old branding
iron, were faded now, hardly legible.
Logan Creed, half inside his secondhand Dodge pickup鈥?quot;previously owned," the
dealer had called it鈥攁nd half outside, with one booted foot on the running
board, swore under his breath.
Startled, the bedraggled dog he'd picked up at a rest stop outside of Kalispell
that morning gave a soft, fretful whine, low in his throat. Little wonder the
poor critter was skittish; he'd clearly been from one end of lost-animal hell to
the other.
"Sorry, ol' fella," Logan muttered, his throat constricted with a tangle of
emotions, sharp as barbed wire. He'd known the family ranch鈥攁 legacy shared
equally with his two younger brothers, Dylan and Tyler鈥攚ould be in sad shape.
The whole spread had been neglected for years, after all鈥ver since they'd had
that falling out after their dad's funeral. He and Dylan and Tyler had gone
their stubborn, separate ways.
The dog forgave him readily, that being the way of dogs, and seemed sympathetic,
sitting there on the other side of the gearshift, his brown eyes almost liquid
as he regarded his rescuer.
Logan grinned, settled himself back into the driver's seat. "If I were half the
man you think I am," he told the mutt, "I'd be a candidate for sainthood."
The idea of any Creed being canonized made him chuckle.
The dog responded with a cheerful yip, as if offering to put in a good word with
whoever made decisions like that.
"You'll need a name," Logan said. "Damned if I can think of one right off the
top of my head, though." He turned in the seat, facing forward, cataloging the
fallen fences and disintegrating junk, and sighed again. "We've got our work cut
out for us. Best get started, I guess."
The sign bumped the truck's roof as Logan drove beneath it, and the rungs of the
nineteenth-century cattle guard under the tires all but rattled his teeth.
Weeds choked the long, winding driveway, but the ruts were still there, anyway,
made by the first vehicles to travel that road鈥攚agons. Mentally, Logan added
several tons of gravel to the list of necessities.
There were three houses on various parts of the property and, because he was the
eldest of the current Creed generation, the biggest one belonged to him. Some
inheritance, he thought. He'd be lucky if the place was fit to inhabit.
"Good thing I've got a sleeping bag and camping gear," he told the dog, leaning
forward a little in the seat as they jostled up the grassy rise, peering grimly
through the windshield. "You okay with sleeping under the stars if the roof's
gone, boy?"
The dog's eyes said he was game for anything, as long as the two of them stuck
together. He'd had enough of being alone, scrounging for food and shelter when
the weather turned bad.
Logan told himself to buck up and reached across to pat the animal's matted
head. No telling what color the mutt was, under all that dirt and sorry luck. As
for the mix of breed, he was probably part Lab, part setter and part a whole
slew of other things. His ribs showed and a piece of his left ear was missing.
Yep, he'd been nobody's dog for too long.
When he'd pulled into the rest stop to stretch his legs after the long drive
from Las Vegas, he hadn't counted on picking up a four-legged hitchhiker, but
when the dog slunk out of the bushes as he stepped down from the truck, Logan
couldn't ignore him. There was nobody else around, and if there had ever been a
tag and collar, they were long gone.
Logan had known he was that dog's last hope, and since he'd been in a similar
position himself a time or two, he hadn't been able to turn his back. He'd
hoisted the critter into the pickup, and they'd shared a fast-food breakfast in
the next town. The dog had horked his chow up, in short order, and looked so
remorseful afterward that Logan hadn't minded stopping at a car wash to scour
out the rig.
Now, several hours later, as he steeled himself to lay eyes on the ranch house
for the first time in a lot of eventful years, Loga
No comments:
Post a Comment