Three things you need to know when hanging with Laney Briggs.
- Sense of Humor: When it comes standing tall with the good ‘ol boys Laney has learned it is easier to roll with the punches if the sexy, stud wearing a cowboy hat is kept on his toes. If it’s got tires or testicles it’s going to give you trouble.
- It’s okay to have an Achilles heel: Just like Superman’s one weakness is kryptonite, well, Laney’s one vulnerability is a dirty-talking, Texas Ranger. I craved that fierce fascination he held me in. Craved. Probably more than I wanted to accept.
- Always get your man: There’s one thing for sure in Pistol Rock, Laney’s hometown, lending a helping hand is always putting a foot in the right direction. I clicked back the safety and looked him square in the eyes. “Sometimes even bad ass cowboys need a little help covering their asses.”
Now that you’ve gotten the insider tips, book that plane ticket, grab a six-pack of Miller, strap on the red cowboy boots, and high tail it out to Pistol Rock, Texas a place Fresh Fiction calls “Fantastic Storytelling, Superb Characters, Splendid Dialogue, and Plenty of Texas Sexiness!”
Remember to say “howdy” when you get there!
“Come on, Gunner. You can trust me,” I purred, my voice sounding like a Hooters waitress laying the charm on thick to get a big fat tip.
I had one hand toying with the hem of his snug black T-shirt, my hips grinding into his Wranglers. The way that zipper fly was bulging against my thigh almost made me forget I was on the attack. “You can tell me. I’ve always been good at keeping secrets.”
Gunner looked pained. “Again, it’s privileged information, Laney.” He leaned in closer, grazing his five o’clock shadow along my chin. “Damn you smell good,” he said, sucking in some air. “Buy the lavender soap at the Piggly Mart again?”
I hooked my thumbs in his belt loops and tugged, pulling him into me. “Why are you all of a sudden acting so serious?”
He always did have a hard-on for the slutty-bimbo type. A low, throaty groan tore from his chest when he dipped his mouth toward mine. My lips parted, welcoming him home.
I felt his tongue skim my teeth, and then he swallowed my moan with a hungry kiss. Aw hell, he tasted like homemade vanilla ice cream, a little too sweet, but so sinfully delicious. Maybe I hadn’t completely thought this through, because the way he was kissing me torched any comeback as a raging wildfire of pure undignified lust burst throughout my entire body. On a long, hard caress, he forced the tender embrace deeper and pulled my tongue into a tantalizing dance with his. Savoring the moment, he wrapped both arms tighter around my waist, and wasted no time to teach me each one of his smooth moves.
And damn, did I want to be schooled.
Gunner broke the body-aching kiss, and before I could say “more” his mouth touched my earlobe, and then he whispered, “Word has it that Wyatt might be in deep with Manny Sanchez.”
“Manny Sanchez?” I asked, surprised.
He continued working his mouth along my neck, which might as well have been between my legs. I’d gone from bitch to horny in about five seconds flat.
I feathered my lips across his stubbled chin, inhaling the richness of his aftershave as I said softly, “Who’d have thought.”
“You might wanna run out there and check.” He half moaned.
Leaning in, I placed my mouth inches from his neck. “Thanks,” I told him before jabbing my red boot down on his foot and storming off to the cruiser, leaving Gunner to deal with his erection and holding his foot.