She was a one-night stand following his rescue, but he
couldn't forget her haunted eyes.
TITLE: Submitting to the Cattleman
AUTHOR: BJ Wane
RELEASE DATE: December 10, 2019
PUBLISHER: Blushing Books
GENRES: #erotic romance
#BDSM #suspense #Cowboy Doms
#HEA
BLURB:
Why does doing the right thing have to be so hard?
Leslie Collins
has been asking herself that question ever since her eye-witness testimony in a
murder case landed her in the Witness Protection Program far away from
everything and everyone she’s ever known. Now, four years later, she struggles
with growing despondency over the circumstances that prevent her from forming a
relationship. When she allows her loneliness to get the better of her and
indulges in a one-night stand, she never dreams her stranger will show up again
at the private club she’s stayed away from for a few weeks.
Kurt Wilcox returns home to Montana to help his father
recover from a stroke and hopefully mend the rift between them. He doesn’t plan
on rescuing a woman from a mugging and ending up succumbing to the loneliness
reflected on her face and indulging in a one-night stand. When he meets up with
Leslie at his club, he refuses to let her hide her identity or her reasons for
inviting a stranger into her home and bed.
Leslie finally caves to his persistence and agrees to an
affair that seems promising until she learns her identity has been comprised
and an attempt on her life forces out the truth about her past. Will putting
her trust in her Dom jeopardize him and his employees when she agrees to his
protection, or will Kurt rid her of the threat against her, as he promises,
leaving her free to embrace her own HEA?
This is book six in the Cowboy Doms series but can be
enjoyed as a standalone.
Publisher’s Note: This contemporary, western romance
contains elements of mystery, suspense, danger, power exchange, BDSM, and
sensual scenes. If any of these bother you, please do not purchase.
Leslie should have known by now wallowing in self-pity never
helped. She took a moment to eye the man at the bar again, this time catching a
glimpse of his rugged profile beneath the black Stetson, a straight nose and
the sardonic curl of one side of his mouth as a young woman approached him. His
reply to whatever come-on she whispered in his ear sent her trouncing off in a
huff. Leslie wondered how low her spirits would have to sink before she
approached a stranger with a needy proposition. Maybe, if one look stirred her juices
the same as eying that man, she wouldn’t mind the rash, desperate act so much.
If nothing else, a night indulging in sex with a stranger would alleviate the
loneliness for a short time, give her something else to think about.
By the time she downed two more drinks, stood to leave and
the room spun around her, she realized she should have paid more attention to
her alcohol intake. I can do this as long as I go slow. Since she wasn’t
about to call one of her co-workers to drive her the few blocks back home, she
forced herself to walk a straight path toward the door. She made it with only
one stumble and as she breathed in the warm summer air, her woozy senses calmed
a bit.
At least, Leslie thought her head had cleared enough to
drive until she teetered through the well-lit parking lot in search of her car
and rammed her hip into the bumper of a massive pickup truck. Swearing under
her breath, she pushed away and wobbled toward the sidewalk she could follow
straight to her apartment door. With her inebriated head bemoaning the return
to her lonely apartment she never heard or saw the punk purse snatcher sneak up
behind her until he tried pulling her bag from her grasp.
“Hey!” she cried out with a desperate tug to keep hold of
her purse. “Leave me alone!” Tears welled as frustration
over everything shook her.
The kid, who looked all of sixteen, took umbrage of Leslie
daring to fight back and stunned her further with a back-handed swing that
landed her on the concrete with a jarring thud and red-hot pain blossoming
across her cheek. Reeling from both the dizzying fall and the blow, she had to
blink several times and shake her head to make sense of the angry shout and
large man now grappling with her assailant. Big men
wearing cowboy hats, denim and boots were a dime a dozen in Montana, but no one
had ever come to her rescue before. Her aching heart rolled over in
appreciation even before he turned concerned eyes on her as the wily teenager
broke from his hold, giving up her purse before taking off.
“Fucking kid,” he swore, squatting down in front of her. His
rough voice sent tingles of awareness dancing down her spine, the intent look
in his dark eyes reminding her of the observant gazes of the Doms at the club.
He thumbed his hat back far enough for her to make out his rugged features and
the dark shadow of his five o’clock beard in the meager amber glow of the
streetlight and realize he was the same man she had ogled in the bar. “You
okay, sweetheart?”
“I, yes, I think so.” He helped Leslie up and the street whipped
around her in staggering circles. “Whoa,” she gasped, grabbing onto his thick
forearm, the muscles rippling under her hands as he wrapped his other arm
around her waist.
“This is where too much alcohol will land you. Come on, I’ll
drive you home.”
His firm, no-nonsense tone calmed Leslie’s racing heartbeat
even if she didn’t care for his lecture any more than she wanted to spend
another long night alone. God, it felt good to lean on someone for a change,
not to mention the warm rush spreading through her body from his firm hold and
take-charge manner. She must be either really drunk or really desperate for
relief if a stranger’s kindness was tugging on her neglected needs as a sexual
submissive.
“My car’s in the parking lot behind us and I live just a few
blocks away.” Whether because of the scare she’d just experienced or from her
self-pitying melancholy mood of late, she didn’t want him to walk away yet. If
that made her a pathetic mess, she didn’t care and relief swept through her
shaken body when he tightened his arm around her waist.
“I can’t let you drive in your condition.” He ran calloused
fingertips over her puffy cheek, a light caress she felt clear to her toes.
“You need something on this, and learning to duck wouldn’t hurt. I’ll give you
two choices. Call a friend to come get you or let me take you home. We can
return to the bar and let the bartender know where you’re going and with whom,
to ease your mind. I’d say you need to report this, but the odds of finding
that kid aren’t likely.”
Leslie didn’t hear much after he offered to see her home.
Was it stupid to let a stranger know where she lived? Oh, yeah, but not as dumb
as wishing he would stay and exert some of that commanding attitude in a different
way. She craved a distraction from her isolated life and the bleak future
looming ahead of her, and spending more time with this panty-dampening stranger
worked for her.
“I think,” she whispered, swaying closer to that rock-hard
body, “I can trust someone who was nice enough to come to my rescue.”
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