Rhea Regale

Erotic Romance Author

Sneak peek at Summer’s Wicked Cowboys, Casanova Cowboys 3

It’s almost release day for Summer and her wicked cowboys 🙂

If you haven’t stopped over at Siren Publishing yet, here’s a sneak peek from the third Casanova Cowboys novel.  Want something a little more spicy?  Hot?  Down right sexy?  Check it out at www.bookstrand.com/summers-wicked-cowboys. 

Oh, and don’t forget to stop back tomorrow for a brand new excerpt, a special little glimpse into the life of Ryder’s most controversial member 🙂

xoxo

rr-cc-summerswickedcowboys3

Excerpt

“Seems you know how to hold yourself around horses,” Braden said, dully noting that this particular mare was a skittish three-year-old who didn’t like anyone besides him. The man finished speaking, pat the mare’s neck, and turned.

Braden stared for a long moment. Oh shit. He knew the color of those shadowed eyes that stared at him in what appeared to be the same degree of shock that stole the breath from his lungs. Only when his coffee mug smacked into the dirt at his feet, the liquid splattering in every direction, did he grab hold of his bearings long enough to observe the man who was awfully familiar and yet a total stranger in the same instant.

Carter tugged off his cap and ruffled his dark hair, the wavy strands barely long enough to brush against his forehead. The overhead lighting highlighted a deep scar that etched along the man’s right cheek and upper lip. His eyes, when he finally looked up at him again, held a haunting mist along their bright blues.

Braden’s stomach knotted. His heart did a strange flip inside his chest. At one time, he would have delighted in the feel of his legs weakening and his cock swelling. Right now, he hated it.

Carter had no fucking business showing up in Ryder like this after what he did. None!

“Well, now everythin’ makes sense,” Braden groused. He reached down and grabbed his mug, ignoring the dirt clinging to the sides. “I’ll be back to check on the horses, since it’s obvious you know your way around here better than me.”

Braden spun on a heel and stormed down the aisle. He barely made it ten feet when Carter grabbed his shoulder and brought him up short.

“Hey,” Carter said. Braden whipped around and away from the man who looked so different, yet so much the same, as he had five years ago. There was a powerful air surrounding Carter, something dark pulsing along his being. It left Braden half breathless, half cautious. He had grown in delicious muscle, each fine cut and curve evident, despite the tattoo and cotton shirt. Thigh muscles strained against dark-blue jeans. His face held telltale wounds that gave him a mysterious, almost sharp, appearance.

Gone was the once carefree, jubilant rebel Ryder. A new man stood in Carter’s body, one that held more secrets, darker secrets, than Braden could begin to decipher. Not that he cared to do much deciphering after the bastard disappeared under suspicious circumstances without as much as a two minute explanation.

Carter rubbed the strong frame of his jaw, turning his face away enough to hide the scars.

Braden glanced down at the T-shirt, hugging Carter’s hard-muscled body. Go Army was printed in bold black block letters on a grey background. He narrowed his eyes, taking a moment to scour Carter’s bare arms. Light marks marred his tanned flesh, some new scars, some old. He got a better look at the tattoo of a gothic style cross nestled in a bed of black thorns and branches. A pair of dark-red hearts perched on the arms of the cross, Rosalin etched in beautiful calligraphy above the cross.

Carter glanced down at his arm and frowned. “Got it shortly after the accident.”

“Murder. She was murdered,” Braden muttered. Carter’s eyes shot up to him. Within a split second, the man he had fallen hard and fast for five years ago shut himself off. A mask of indifference slammed down over Carter’s face. His eyes became hollow, distant, and cold. “It might help if you acknowledge the facts.”

“You’re being a bit outspoken.”

“And I don’t have the right to speak out about that night? What the hell happened, Carter?” Braden growled, taking another step back to put more distance between them. “You bailed Ryder within an hour after your momma was killed and your father put a bullet from the same barrel into his own head. You ran the hell away from that, from all the people who gave a fuckin’ shit about you. You made the town gossip about your part in your parent’s death because of your actions.”

“There’s more to it than that, Bray. You’ve no idea what happened that night,” Carter said, his voice taking on a chilling edge. Braden snorted. He punched his fisted hand deep into his coat pocket to keep from punching Carter’s handsome face. This was not how he wanted to start his morning.

“Maybe you should let me in on the secret, you selfish prick. You weren’t the only one affected by the events that played out behind closed doors.” Braden shoved his dirty mug into Carter’s chest. The man tensed, not moving an inch. He lifted his chin. “What about me, Carter? What about Summer? You remember her? You loved her, didn’t you? You know what you did to her?”

Something cut across Carter’s face, but vanished behind ice as quickly as it appeared. Braden nodded once.

“Yeah, that woman had it hard for you and you fuckin’ left her like all the rest you flung aside once you had your fill.” Braden took one step closer to Carter and warned, “Stay away from her. You don’t deserve either of us.”

Braden spun around and stormed out of the barn, his blood lava hot with more than anger. Once in his truck, he slammed both hands down on the steering wheel and cussed.

Five fucking years have passed and that man could still set him on fire like he did when they were together.

God, why the hell did you send him back?

For all of my books, visit www.bookstrand.com/rhea-regale

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