Ride Me Dirty (Bridgewater Ménage: Bridgewater County Book 1) by Vanessa Vale
Date of Publication: April 6, 2017
Blurb
They remember her as a pesky kid.
She doesn't remember them at all.
Her life's in New York. The property she's inherited is in Bridgewater, Montana. Going back to the town she visited every summer as a child stirs up long forgotten memories and a girlhood crush, on not one teen-turned-hot-cowboy, but two. Cousins Jack and Sam Kane. Fortunately for her, in Bridgewater, one cowboy's never enough.
In this contemporary version of Vanessa Vale's USA Today bestselling, Bridgewater Menage series, Catherine is forced to choose the life she really wants: the big-city lawyer or the small town cowgirl with two men who want to take her for a very dirty ride.
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Excerpt
I'd
slept a measly two hours when the alarm went off at four-thirty, only
to find the bridge from Manhattan to Queens was having overnight
repairs and the traffic was backed up. Then airport security was long
and I'd suffered the up close and personal pat down because of the
titanium pins in my leg. When I had finally reached the gate, my boss
had called to complain about my lack of face-time with my current
client list. I wanted to make partner badly enough that I actually
considered abandoning my suitcase and just heading into the office,
but when my flight was called to board, I knew I had to get at least
one mess in my life cleaned up. And now I was stuck in a
thunderstorm.
As I
tried to rub away the sandpaper feel behind my lids, I attempted the
deep breathing techniques I’d learned in yoga class. The classes
were supposed to be calming, but they never worked. I was never calm.
And right now, the canned air inside this tiny airplane was getting
hotter and hotter, sinking into my lungs, suffocating me. I was stuck
and there was nothing I could do about it. Shit. I hated things that
were beyond my control. I wasn't claustrophobic, but I felt trapped
just the same. A huge clap of thunder shook the plane, just before
rain pummeled the metal like a thousand tiny hammers. Was God trying
to tell me something?
Breathe.
Breathe
in slowly through the nose, hold it, hold it, let it out through the
mouth. Breathe in…sandalwood and leather with just a hint of warmth
I was sure had to be completely unique to him.
I sat next to Mr. Cowboy Hottie and he smelled too good to focus on
anything else—especially with my eyes closed. The scent wasn't
cologne, soap maybe, and had me completely distracted. How could
anyone concentrate on yoga breathing when Tall, Dark and Handsome and
I were bumping shoulders?
I'd
almost swallowed my tongue when he'd walked down the narrow aisle,
put his cowboy hat in the overhead and took the seat beside me, all
but folding his large size into the small space. He'd offered a quick
smile and a polite hello and opened his book. I'd been texting on my
phone at the time, but my thumbs had frozen in place as I ogled him.
Blatantly. I figured I owed it to all womankind to look my fill as my
heart started once again.
He
had fair hair that was a little long and curled at the ends. Combed,
but untamed. His eyes were equally dark and piercing, but the way his
full lips quirked up at the corners indicated he wasn't as intense as
he seemed. Tanned skin proved to me he didn't work in an office. As
did his big hands with short, well kept nails and a fascinating play
of muscle that shifted just beneath the surface. Strong hands that
made a woman beg to be touched. Most importantly, no wedding ring
either.
I was
a total perv thinking about my seat mate like this, but holy shit. He
was pumping out the pheromones or something because suddenly all I
could think about was climbing on his lap and taking him for a ride.
My brain had stalled and my ovaries had taken over.
There
weren't any cowboys in New York. And I had to admit, there was
nothing like a man whose size and corded muscles were brought about
by hard work, fresh air and sunshine instead of daily trips to the
gym. No man could wear a snap button shirt, a pair of jeans and worn
boots like a cowboy. And this man? He was all
cowboy. Holy hell, I'd always thought the
urban businessman was hot, but they were pale weaklings in
comparison. They might be able to make a billion dollar deal over
lunch, but I'd turn a blind eye if they tried to get me in bed. But
Mr. Hottie? He could ride and wrangle me into submission any day.
About Vanessa Vale
Vanessa Vale is the USA Today bestselling author of over thirty books, sexy romance novels, including her popular Bridgewater historical romance series and hot contemporary romances featuring unapologetic bad boys who don't just fall in love, they fall hard. When she's not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys, is figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker, and teaches a pretty mean karate class. While she's not as skilled at social media as her kids, she loves to interact with readers.
You can find out more about Vanessa at VanessaValeAuthor.com
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