Excerpt: Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas by Kim Redford
Hi Romance Besties,
Today we have a sexy cowboy excerpt to read and you can enter to win a copy. Enjoy!
Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas
Smokin' Hot Cowboys Book 7
by Kim Redford
Buy on Amazon
Have yourself a Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas
It's been one fiasco after another for newcomer Belle Tarleton since she began trying to turn her ranch into an arts center. Local workers seem determined to ruin her Christmas party plans, and she hopes bringing in down-on-his-luck Rowdy Holloway to help with renovations will get things back on track.
Rowdy is the unluckiest cowboy in the whole of Wildcat Bluff County, Texas, and things are not improving this holiday season. Sure, he's the object of many local women's drool-worthy fantasies, but the town has decided he's the man who should stop Belle's renovation plans.
It started as a simple mission, but now Rowdy's so twisted up he doesn't know whose side he's on. With only days until Christmas, Rowdy and Belle need to tap into their fiery personalities and off-the-charts chemistry if they're ever going to find a way to thaw the ice on this reluctant town's heart.
Belle Tarleton glanced at Rowdy Holloway as they walked toward the entry of Wildcat Hall. He’d cleaned up real good. He wore a fine western-cut suit in dark blue with a pale-blue, pearl-snap shirt, turquoise bolo tie, and ostrich cowboy boots.
She’d dressed up, too. She’d chosen a flirty little knee-length skirt in blue denim that would whirl around her body when she danced to something fast. She’d paired it with crimson tights and blue cowgirl boots.
Inside the popular honkytonk, he clasped her hand while she looked around in appreciation at a long wooden bar with a black cast-iron foot rail, a pressed tin ceiling accented by ceiling fans with schoolhouse lights, and floor to ceiling windows in front.
The decor was minimal. Rusty metal beer advertisement signs had been tacked around the walls, along with sepia-toned photographs of cowboys on horseback and country music legends. A framed Lone Star State flag hung in back of the bar while a rack of deer antlers loomed above the front doors. Hand-hewn, scarred-wood tables with high-back chairs filled the area.
Folks sat in the chairs and stood several deep at the bar. Laughter and talk and music filled the air, along with the scent of coffee and cookies, beer and pretzels, sarsaparilla and peanuts.
“Come this way to the dance hall,” Rowdy whispered in her ear, and then led her through the throng to a short hall and turned left.
She stepped with him through an open doorway into a large room with rows of long, narrow, hand-hewn wood tables with matching benches placed on each side of the dance floor in front of a wall of screened windows that were open to let in the cool night air. Revelers filled the benches or stood on the sidelines while others danced to the sounds of a country band. It was a scene in a riot of color and scent and sound that excited all the senses.
She squeezed his hand in appreciation that he’d brought her here. He threaded their fingers together and gave her a slow smile.
A beautiful singer with ash blond hair strummed an acoustic guitar and sang with a pure, sweet voice to the accompaniment of a man playing bass guitar beside her. He wore his long chestnut hair to his shoulders and looked at the singer with adoration in his hazel eyes. They stood on an old-fashioned, recessed, raised stage with a hand-painted backdrop of crimson curtains trimmed with gold pulled open to reveal a pastoral scene of cowboys herding longhorns.
Rowdy leaned down close to Belle’s ear. “That’s Fern Bryant and Craig Thorne.”
“They’re the owners?”
He nodded in agreement. “And they’re engaged.”
She smiled at the thought of their happiness because Rowdy was making her happy, too.
As he led her toward the dance floor, the music ended and people faded away, leaving them almost alone in center stage.
Craig grinned as he leaned toward his mic. “Folks, we already told you that we’d be starting a poetry night right here in Wildcat Hall.”
People clapped and whistled in appreciation.
“Well, I’ve got good news for you.” Craig pointed at Rowdy. “Our very own local cowboy poet named Rowdy is right here.”
More clapping and whistling filled the dance hall.
“That’s right,” Craig said. “Let’s let Rowdy start our poetry off on the right foot…right here and right now.”
Belle looked around in surprise as the dance hall erupted in more clapping and calls for Rowdy to step up and perform.
“Sorry. I didn’t expect this tonight,” he said.
“It’s okay. Do you need to go up there?”
“Yeah…I’m thinking so.”
“Come on, Rowdy.” Craig gestured for him to approach. “One poem. That’s all we’re asking of you tonight.”
Rowdy gave Belle a quick smile, then turned away.
She watched as he walked up to the stage, mounted the steps, and leaned into the mic on a stand as the room went completely quiet in anticipation. She’d had no idea he had this type of reputation in the community.
“Folks, you caught me by surprise,” Rowdy said in his deep, melodic voice. “I don’t have anything in particular planned, but I’ve been writing a special poem for a special cowgirl. If you want to hear it…”
Again, the room erupted in clapping and catcalls of encouragement.
Rowdy looked right at Belle as he spoke into the microphone.
“A cowgirl dressed in gossamer dreams.
Daytime. Night time. Anytime.
A cowgirl blessed with soaring wings.
Daytime. Night time. Anytime.
A cowgirl clothed in red bandana.
Daytime. Night time. Anytime.”
A cowgirl showered with love forever.
Daytime. Night time Anytime.”
And Belle felt his words go straight to her heart.
Smokin' Hot Cowboys series:
A Cowboy Firefighter for Christmas (Book 1)
Blazing Hot Cowboy (Book 2)
A Very Cowboy Christmas (Book 3)
Hot for a Cowboy (Book 4)
Cowboy Firefighter Christmas Kiss (Book 5)
Cowboy Firefighter Heat (Book 6)
Smokin' Hot Cowboy Christmas (Book 7)
This giveaway is now over. The lucky winner of the print copy is: Zarah Robinson