eBook Details

Rope Burn

Series: The Boot Knockers Ranch , Book 5.0
By: Em Petrova | Other books by Em Petrova
Published By: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: Sep 29, 2015
ISBN # 9781619228962
Word Count: 66,204
Heat Index     
Eligible Price: $5.50

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Epub, Mobipocket (.mobi)

Categories: Romance>Contemporary Romance>Westerns/Cowboys Romance>Erotic Romance

Description

Rope Burn (The Boot Knockers Ranch) by Em Petrova - Romance>Contemporary eBook

She wants to turn up the heat. He’s got the skills to whip her into a frenzy.

The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 5

TV food show host Tabbart Tracy works hard to give viewers her best recipes. But while her fans are legion, her personal life is colder than a meat locker. Most men just want her to serve up some pie—in the nude.

One glance at her assistant’s sexy brother, though, and her body skips straight from low simmer to rolling boil. Especially when she tracks him down at a stud ranch. Where he’s the stud.

When a certain little TV foodie personally requests Stowe’s company for a week, he’s flattered as hell. She needs to give up some control, and as a sex therapist otherwise known as the “Dom from Down Under”, Stowe has the leather, rope, and paddles to do it.

Just as Tabbart melts into a puddle under Stowe’s hands, her worst fear chills her back to reality: someone recognizes her. Worse, her Master frowns on opening her checkbook to make it all go away. But trusting him means hanging onto their connection with both hands—while he takes her for the ride of her life.

Warning: This book contains a TV chef looking for some R&R (as in rough and raunchy) and a whip-wielding Aussie cowboy Dom intent on showing her she can take the heat. As hot as—and anywhere—she wants it.
 
Reader Rating:   5.0 starstarstarstarstar (1 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:   lipliplipliplip
Excerpt:
Copyright © 2015 Em Petrova
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


From behind her dark sunglasses, Tabbart scanned the countryside. She’d never been to this part of Texas before. Houston and Austin were big cities for foodies, but the Boot Knockers Ranch was far from urban.

Thank God.

Getting on that flight had taken a supreme act of courage. Between her sunglasses and her trademark tresses tamed into a severe ponytail, she would have gone unnoticed even on a 747. Thankfully the private flight staff hadn’t asked for her autograph.

Tall yellow grasses swished in a constant breeze on either side of the road. The driver was stoic and fixed on his task of delivering her to the end of the road leading to the ranch. She’d given him a false name, and as far as she could see, he didn’t recognize her.

The tension didn’t dissipate, though. She might still be caught at any moment. Behind the next bend could be a roadblock of paparazzi.

She folded her hands and drew a deep breath. Within minutes she would be with that hunk of man, Stowe. Since she’d last set eyes on him, he’d morphed into god status in her mind. She’d fantasized about seeing him again for so many days that he couldn’t possibly live up to her memories. Could he?

The silver sedan bumped through a pothole.

“Sorry for the rough road, ma’am.”

She didn’t speak, just raised a hand and gave a smile, unwilling to risk him knowing her voice. She burned to ask how much longer. By now Stowe would have been told she was coming. What did he think of her? Did he find her nervy? Or was it normal for him to be requested in such a way?

For the hundredth time since booking this trip, she thought about what he did for a living. Sex therapist seemed like a small description for what he really did. He had sex for a living, plain and simple.

And she’d paid for it.

A large sum for a taste of those bulging muscles and hard lips. There had been chemistry between them, she was sure of it. Maybe—

The thoughts she’d played and replayed over and over fell away as the driver slowed to a stop. Dust clouded around the vehicle, obscuring her view.

Then she saw it—a glimpse of black. A pickup truck with the door hanging open. She barely had time to conjure the words of the greeting she’d prepared when her door opened and a big male arm reached inside. Sprinkled with dark hair, a thick leather watch strapped around the wrist.

Her mind was wiped clean as she looked into a set of very dark eyes staring at her from under the black hat she’d come to know so well. The upward curl of his lip made her heart turn over painfully, then gallop out of control. She sat there like an idiot.

He gripped her hands and pulled her to her feet. She locked her knees to keep from falling over, then Stowe’s trim backside moved away from her. He opened the trunk of the car and hauled her luggage out.

When he spun and fixed her in his gaze again, she released the breath she’d been holding. Her pulse pounded in her ears. God, she was acting like a young girl with her first crush. She was a grown woman. She was…

At a sex ranch with the man of her fantasies.

Her p**sy clenched.

“This all you got?” he drawled in that hot accent.

“Y-yes.” Stutter activated.

He grasped her forearm as he passed. The warmth and roughness of his hand on her bare arm scalded. Sweat broke out on her forehead. He opened the passenger door of the truck for her and guided her inside, then dumped her suitcase in the bed.

Her hand twitched to shove her glasses up and get a real look at him, but she couldn’t blow her cover. She watched as he swaggered back to the silver car, pulled his wallet from the back pocket of worn jeans—molded to his fine ass—and took out some bills. He handed them to the driver through the window. Then he tapped the car roof twice and the driver moved off in a new cloud of dust.

I’m alone with him.

In the middle of nowhere. He could do anything to her. God, she wanted that.

Who had she become? She barely recognized herself.

He got behind the driver’s wheel but didn’t start the engine. He pivoted his head to look at her, and she was given an up-close view of his beauty. Better yet, she was allowed to look without a camera rolling or too many eyes on them.

Unshaven jaw, square, with a small scar on the side. Lips that looked like granite, fine straight nose. His espresso eyes melted her from under two strong black brows. His hair curled slightly under his hat brim.

She folded her fingers into her fists to keep from pulling off his hat and touching his hair as she’d fantasized about for several weeks.

He reached across the truck cab and hooked a finger under the stem of her glasses. With a flick, she was exposed. A quiver ran through her system.

Dark eyes rested on hers.

“Hi, Tabbart.” Good thing he reminded her what her name was because she couldn’t recall it. “Welcome to the Boot Knockers Ranch.”

A flush climbed her throat and scorched her cheeks. “Thank you for picking me up. Your people told you…” She drifted off, embarrassed by why she was here and longing to get to that very part.

He pinched his thumb and forefinger together and made a zipping motion across his mouth. Her gaze lingered on his lips. “I’ll take care of you.”

The way he said that made her clamp her thighs together. So dark with promise. So ruggedly alpha.

“I hope Amelia isn’t embarrassed by me coming here.”

“She won’t utter a word, I promise.” He twisted the key in the ignition and did a maneuver on the road that made Tabbart grab the handle and squeal. The back of the truck spun around and the rest of the vehicle with it. Suddenly they were facing the other direction on the small gravel road.

He shot her a grin. “Hold on to your panties, love. Because I don’t go slow.”

As they shot down the road, she wondered if he meant more than his driving. Her stomach fluttered. Part of her hoped he’d just take her before she got any more awkward from nerves. But on the other hand, she didn’t know him. She wanted to talk to him, learn things.

Know how he kisses.

“You’re blushing,” he rumbled, giving her a sidelong look.

She fingered the tip of one hot ear. “I don’t know why.”

“Don’t you?” He cocked a brow, self-assured in a take-charge way that made her panties damp. When he looked at her, she felt electrically charged.

Silence vibrated in the air while they blasted toward the ranch.

“You couldn’t be blushing because you know once I get you beyond those gates up ahead…” he gestured and she followed his finger to the open wood and metal gates, “…you’ll be at my mercy.”

Her throat grew as dry as the dust following them. What did that mean? At his mercy? He could do almost anything to her. From what she knew from reading his profile, he was into kinky stuff—whips and ropes. It terrified her.

And thrilled her.

When she didn’t respond, he released a low chuckle. The fine hairs on her nape lifted, and she swore he zeroed in on them. His gaze licked over her hair and down to her breasts. “You look different with your hair up.”

“That’s what I was hoping.”

Rope Burn

By: Em Petrova
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