Miss January “I’m afraid,” she ventured shakily, “you might have spoiled me for other men.” “Good,” he rumbled darkly. “And now I’m going to absolutely fucking ruin you.” Mindy Walters is a bit of pessimist where men and love are concerned. With a sexual history like hers, who can blame her? She avoids the opposite sex whenever possible— not too difficult a task since her height scares off all but the tallest of males. When Cash McLaren tricks Mindy into taking him home with her, he’s putting his New Year’s resolution into effect. Tired of trying to find a woman who can hold his interest for more than a few weeks, the tall, ruggedly handsome cowboy plans to get himself a new woman for every month of the year. Mindy will be his Miss January and nothing more. But after the two lovers share a scorching sexual encounter in a phone booth, Cash’s resolution goes right out the window. The next thing he knows, he’s asking Mindy to marry him. Because Cash no longer thinks of Mindy as Miss January and nothing more. Nope. Now he’s thinking of Mindy as Miss January forever more. Note: Mindy is Bolt's (of Miss October fame) best friend and neighbor. Cash McLaren is also a friend of Bolt's. |
| Cover Art by Willo |
Excerpt Once behind the wheel, Mindy blew out a breath that lifted her bangs off her forehead as she turned to ask him for his address. But her passenger was asleep, sprawled in the seat beside her, his eyes closed as he snored softly. She frowned at the wide-brimmed Stetson that was tipped down over his eyes. “Cash?” she called out hesitantly. “Mr. Cash. Wake up. You need to give me your address so I can drive you home.” A long rippling snore was the only answer she got. Unfortunately, shouting at him didn’t help. Neither did the rough shake she gave his shoulder. Great! She had a drunk man in the cab of her truck—a sleeping drunk man—and nowhere to go with him. Identification. He had to have ID. If she could find it, she could get his address and then she could take him home. Her gaze slipped to the rumpled pockets on the front of his faded jeans. After pulling in a deep breath, she plunged her hand into his closest pocket and felt around, her fingers slipping over the cool, flat surface of what was obviously a cell phone. “A little to the right,” he murmured in a sexy drawl. Startled, Mindy jumped. More than a little surprised that her hand in his pocket had woken him when her yelling and shaking had failed entirely, she narrowed her gaze on his half-closed eyes. “What?” “If you’re looking for my goods,” he said, “I suggest you move your hand a little farther to the right.” Her gaze narrowed some more. Handsome or not, the man was starting to piss her off. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not looking for your goods.” “No?” he asked, watching her from beneath the brim of his western hat. “No,” she told him flatly. “I’m robbing you.” “Oh,” he rumbled, yawned, then closed his eyes again. “In that case, I keep my money in my right pocket.” “I don’t believe you,” she said after a moment of fierce jaw grinding. “You’re not very trusting, are you?” He hitched his butt upward a few inches, reached behind to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “There ya go,” he said, slapping it into her hand. “There’s no money in here,” she complained after she opened the brown leather billfold. She riffled though the sections, unable to find his driver’s license or any other form of ID, a little shocked at the number of condoms he carried with him. “Wouldn’t have given it to you if there was,” he murmured, his rugged mouth forming the words with a slow precision that was irksome. “I pegged you for a thief the minute you told me you was robbing me.” “Why don’t you just give me your address?” she snapped, her fingers tightening on the soft leather wallet. “Do I look like a fool to you?” She didn’t answer that one. He did look a bit of a fool, though a damn handsome one. “If I give you my address,” he explained around another yawn, “I reckon you’ll go ‘round my house and rob that too.” “But if you don’t give me your address,” she pleaded with him, “I won’t be able to take you home. I’m Colin’s friend. Remember?” He tipped back his hat and gave her a suspicious look as a few short strands of sandy hair fell down over his forehead again. “Yeah. Well, what’s he look like then?” Frantically, she searched her memory. “He…well…he has an English accent and he’s from England and he doesn’t have a girlfriend. At least he didn’t before tonight.” “You know,” he said thoughtfully as his gaze narrowed on her suspiciously. “I think you’re trying to kidnap me.” “Kidnap you!” she shouted. “Why would I want to do that?” “Well, I don’t want to put ideas in your head or anything, but you might want to take me home and have your way with me.” Her jaw dropped at least three inches. Lifting a long work-roughened finger into the air, he wagged it at her. “But I’ll have you know I ain’t easy, lady.” “You aren’t,” she stated, her mouth forming a grim, flat line. “Nope. I don’t put out for just anyone. I gotta have incentive.” “Oh,” she said coldly. “So what are you offering?” he asked, his mouth ticking upward into a smile of pure unadulterated sin. “What am I—” “Do you have references?” “No!” she exclaimed, repulsed by the idea. “Good,” he drawled. Stretching his legs out, he turned his head and tipped his hat down to shadow his eyes again. “I don’t like a girl who’s been around the block too many times.” For several seconds she just stared. “God, you’re impossible,” she finally said. “That’s not exactly news to me,” he answered in his warm, husky chuckle that was growing more attractive every time he used it. “So, what do you say, lady? Are you going to take me home with you or not? I don’t have all night.” |
| Other Books in the Calendar Girl Series |
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madison hayes
Miss January: Calendar Girls
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