When Zaneâs lips came down on hers tonight, they werenât gentle or light or just a brush.
Oh, no. Tonight they were hungry, searching for desire to be fulfilled.
Jeannetteâs body reacted as if sheâd been born to respond to Zane. She enfolded her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in tighter. His tongue slid into her mouth and her gasp of pleasure opened her up more completely to him. She felt as if a low-burning fire inside of her burst into flame.
She couldnât get enough of his mouth on hers, his tongue retreating, then urging her on. Pressed against him, she longed for a satisfaction she had long ago forgotten.
When he withdrew and pulled away, they were both breathing hard. She was still trying to catch her breath when he said, âThat was Zane the man who kissed you, not Zane Gunther the country singer.â
Dear Reader,
I love country music. Its deep emotion and sheer joy touch me whenever I listen to it. Itâs storytelling at its finest. Iâve always wanted to write about a hero who is a country singer, and in this continuity series I was offered that chance. I created Zane Gunther in a previous MONTANA MAVERICKS book, falling in love with him even then. Now, as a hero, heâs entirely captured my heart.
Sometimes we live our lives thinking weâre on the right track, just involved in the day-to-day process. Then a tragedy strikes and we find out what weâre really made of. Thatâs what happened to Zane. For a while, heâs uncertain what course to take and almost becomes a hermit! But then a resilient single mom intrigues him and he finds being alone can be downright lonely. Jeannette and her son give Zaneâs life meaning heâs never found before. But can she accept his lifestyle? Can he really consider becoming a husband and a dad?
I hope you fall under the spell of this romance the same way you would a great country song! Visit me at my website at www.karenrosesmith.com or follow me on Facebook.
All my best,
Karen Rose Smith
KAREN ROSE SMITH is an award-winning and bestselling author who writes about friends and family. Music has always played a huge part in her life, from her crush on the Beatles to her endeavor to write a script for the Monkees TV show with her cousin. Her love of country music developed after she began writing. She found listening to it enhanced her creativity when developing cowboys! Living in Pennsylvania with her husband and two cats, music enriches her life along with gardening and cooking. Readers can follow her on Facebook, visit with her on her website at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to her at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.
To my bff Suzanne, who shares my love of country music and is always there to listen and support.
Jeannette Williams hurriedly pushed the vacuum cleaner into the closet and closed the door, then nervously tightened the band on her ponytail. She was frazzled. More frazzled than when she had to run after her four-and-a-half-year-old son. If she didnât finish her duties at this mountaintop log home by four oâclock, she could get fired.
In the kitchen she seemed to be all thumbs as she poured expensive ground coffee into a canister. Suddenly her fingers slipped on the glossy bag and the grounds spilled over the counter and onto the floor.
Jeannette was used to rolling with the punches and picking up the pieces. Sheâd had to do that after her fiancé died before Jonah was born. But today, knowing she still had an eveningâs worth of work in a restaurant she didnât like, she almost felt defeated. Still, defeat wasnât in her vocabulary. Jonah was her focus.
She hurried to the closet, found a dustpan and brush and fell to her knees in the kitchen, cleaning up the ceramic-tiled floor.
When she heard a noise outside, she glanced up at the kitchen door the moment it opened. A tall man with a black Stetson stood in the doorway, looking as startled to see her as she was to see him. His jaw was covered with what looked like a weekâs worth of beard stubble. His cheeks were gaunt. His chambray shirt was tucked into blue jeans, but the sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. His brown boots were dusty. For an eternal moment she gazed into his green eyes. He looked soâ¦sad. A second later she thought she must be mistaken because they were snapping with impatience and annoyance.
Her words came out in a rush. âIâm sorry Iâm still here. Iâll be gone in a few minutes. I was a little late getting here and I was just ready to leave when the coffee spilledââ
âJust leave,â he said gruffly.
âReally,â she insisted, âIâll just be a few minutes.â
âGo on,â he commanded. âIâll do it myself.â
She knew from her instructions that he valued his privacy, that he was a solitary man who didnât want to be disturbed. Tears came to her eyes as she blinked fast to keep them from falling. Wouldnât that just be altogether humiliating? She didnât even cry at the lewd comments some of the customers made at LipSmackinâ Ribs. But this manâs sadness, demeanor and penetrating gaze shook her. Stillâ¦although he was obviously angry with her, there was something in his bearing, something underlying the gruffness in his voice, something in those green eyes thatâ¦appealed to her. She was going crazy, she knew she was. A tear did slip from her eye and rolled down her cheek.