To All the Cowboys I’ve Loved Before: The Hottest Western Romance of 2019!
College just got a whole lot more complicated…Della is the perfect student. Hardworking, intelligent and hoping to make something of herself one day.But when she finds herself needing to move house, it seems that everything is conspiring against her. The only place she can afford seems too good to be true – her own room, close to campus, reasonable rent… the only catch? Her housemates are all men. And they are all cowboys.Knowing her parents would disapprove but wanting to make her own decisions, Della decides to stay. And soon, finds that great friends can come from unexpected places…as can love, too.
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HarperImpulse
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2019
Copyright © D. R. Graham 2019
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
D. R. Graham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008328399
Ebook Edition © January 2019 ISBN: 9780008328382
Version: 2018-12-18
Table of Contents
To Integrity
Della
And there goes my tea. Over the railing. Onto the library concourse. Shoot. “Sorry,” I shout to the students walking below who had to jump back to avoid the spray of scalding liquid. Mortified that I could have maimed someone, I gather my transfer papers, stuff them into my bag, and rush down the stairs to clean up the mess before anyone slips.
No paper towels nearby. Awesome. Guess I’ll have to use the silk scarf in my bag to soak up the tea. Actually, come to think of it, this isn’t my scarf. It’s my sister’s. She’s going to kill me. Unfortunately, I don’t have a better option.
I should have known it wasn’t going to be my day. There was no hot water in the shower at the sketchy motel I’m temporarily staying at. My car, although it made it through the seventeen-hour drive to get me here, wouldn’t start this morning. I had to take the bus, which made me late. Then I showed up for my first engineering course, only to find out I wasn’t even on the class list. Sorting it out meant waiting in line at the registrar’s office for over an hour.
At least the tea didn’t burn anyone. I sigh and pick up the paper cup to drop it in the recycling bin. I might as well throw the scarf in the garbage while I’m at it. It’s soaked and stained beyond repair. And my phone fell in the trash with it. Of course, now, the phone is ringing.
I reach elbow deep into the bin to fish it out. Ew. Whatever that was, it’s sticky. “Hello?”
It’s my cousin Stuart, my saving grace. “Everley is able to meet you at the house to give you a key, but it has to be this morning. Can you swing that?”
“Oh. I don’t know, Stuart. I have class. And I’d need to take transit.” I twist my phone to look at the time. I’ll be late if I try to squeeze in a visit before my next class. “Does it have to be right now?”
“Do you want to spend another night in that rat-infested motel?”
“No.” Absolutely not. “Okay. Thank you for setting up a place for me to live. I’d be lost here without you.”
“It’s Stanford not New York. You’d be fine without me, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Hold on a second.” He speaks to someone away from the phone briefly before he comes back on the line. “Some sort of disaster has come up with one of the model’s outfits. I need to get back to the studio. Do you still have the address for the house?”
“Yeah, somewhere. Thanks for everything.” I hang up and search through my bag as I walk towards the bus stop. I wrote the address on the back of a receipt. Somewhere.
Stuart is a famous photographer who lives in San Francisco now, but he graduated from Stanford and knows a lot of people here. Which is great since finding available housing at this time of year is a challenge. He’s made arrangements for me to rent a room in a shared house with three other women who are post-grad Stanford students. The one named Everley has done some fashion modeling for him. They probably won’t be the type of women I would normally be friends with, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here to study not socialize. As long as they don’t throw huge parties every night it should be fine to live with three strangers.
I hope.
I definitely don’t want to have to go back to that disgusting motel.
