Love hunkers down and hides but abides until Casey and Tres realize life without love is just existing not really living.
Just as accomplished horse trainer Casey Mason, PhD feels she’s earned her independence, disaster strikes and her life is forever changed. She must put her life back together bit by piece. The obstacles and her old beliefs seem insurmountable; making her wonder if love can conquer all.
Jordan Spencer III (Tres) inherits Spencer Ranch where Casey, the riding buddy of his youth, still lives. Casey, a beautiful, complex woman, creeps into his mind and heart. Bitter experiences make him shy away from a serious relationship with a woman; yet he and Casey have a special connection. As she struggles with her rehabilitation, he micromanages her life with quiet efficiency until he pushes her past some invisible line. When Casey disappears from his life, he learns more about himself than makes him comfortable. Coming to terms with the past so he can move on to a future with Casey is a challenge that tests his mettle. .
What Reviewers are saying:
“So many unexpected twists and turns in the story and when I thought the surprises would let up…more surprises. ”
“Great description makes it easy to visualize dusty west Texas ranch land and snowy New Mexico mountain peaks. ”
When they finally stopped swimming and stood up in the shallow end of the pool, the icy wind of early fall shocked them both into quick action. Tres placed his hands around her waist and boosted her up on the side of the pool then levered himself out. Taking her hand, he yanked her up and raced to the bathhouse. Once inside, he grabbed a huge beach towel and wrapped it round her and hugged her tightly, pressing her body against his own.
Shivering from the cold, Casey snuggled close to Tres. As her shaking eased, she became more aware of his body. He had one arm round her shoulders and the other lower. His hand was on her bottom, pressing her against him from head to toe. He wasn’t cold. His hot, full arousal pulsating against her abdomen fueled a new kind of shiver in her. She leaned into his maleness with primal need. His eyes, bright and feral, devoured her. As she wiggled to step away, he moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of her head. His lips brushed her temple and cheek, trailed down to her neck, then settled gently on her lips that had parted in awe at the sensations she felt. The motion of his mouth against hers sent sparks through her blood. His tongue traced her lips, slipping inside to touch her tongue as he moved his hand to palm her breast and smooth his thumb across the engorged nipple.
The towel slipped to the floor. He gently brushed aside a strap of her swimsuit. As his lips left hers and closed over her exposed breast, her eyes flew open in panic. Jerking her arms from around his waist, not remembering having put them there, she whispered, “Tres, please. I can’t handle this.” She breathed in shallow gasps.
Slowly, he released her breast and raised his head. Pulling the strap up and encasing her throbbing breast, he frowned. “You look like you’ve never been kissed before.”
In awe, she said, “Not like that.”
Tres studied her through a haze of thwarted desire and let her step away from him. His thoughts raced. Has she forgotten that part of her life, or is she telling the truth?
Neva Brown, a retired secondary teacher/administer, now enjoys the challenge of writing romance novels and doing editing for other romance writers. She has even ventured into the social media world of Facebook, Twitter and Google+ as well as having a website; firstname.lastname@example.org . Her family accepts her eccentricities with equanimity. Neva spent most of her life on West Texas ranches and uses that culture and environment in many of her stories. She and her husband now live at Rio Concho West in San Angelo, Texas. They enjoy visits from their two sons and their families, are always delighted to hear from old friends, and are amazed at how well they have adjusted to ‘city’ living.
Neva loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at email@example.com
Note: Oh yes, the picture is Neva but she now goes around disguised in grey hair and wrinkles. The picture was taken when she first started writing novels—been a while ago.