Shasta Schafer for being a friend and my final proofreader. We’re both following our dreams and I love that we get to work together.
Kristi Yanta for always being supportive and awesome.
The amazing Rebelles. I am so blessed to be part of your group.
And, finally, the Romance Chicks: Dylann Crush, Jody Holford, and Renee Ann Miller.
Also by Christina Hovland
The Mile High Matched Series
Rock Hard Cowboy, Mile High Matched, Book .5
Going Down on One Knee, Mile High Matched, Book 1
Blow Me Away, Mile High Matched, Book 2
Take It Off the Menu, Mile High Matched, Book 3
From Entangled Publishing
The Honeymoon Trap
About the Author
Christina Hovland lives her own version of a fairy tale—an artisan chocolatier by day and romance writer by night. Born in Colorado, Christina received a degree in journalism from Colorado State University. Before opening her chocolate company, Christina’s career spanned from the television newsroom to managing an award-winning public relations firm. She’s a recovering overachiever and perfectionist with a love of cupcakes and dinner she doesn’t have to cook herself. A 2017 Golden Heart® finalist, she lives in Colorado with her first-boyfriend-turned-husband, four children, and the sweetest dog around.
ChristinaHovland.com
Twitter.com/HovlandWrites
Facebook.com/HovlandWrites
Instagram.com/HovlandWrites
Goodreads.com/HovlandWrites
bookbub.com/profile/christina-hovland
Enjoyed the Story?
Turn the page for chapter one of
Rock Hard Cowboy & Going Down on One Knee!
Rock Hard Cowboy
Rock 'n' roll cowboy Tucker McKay’s muse has left the building. Returning to his roots at his Colorado ranch might be the inspiration he needs, and he’s done everything he can to ensure his reputation shines for his eventual return to the public eye, should his muse show up again. Ready to leave town, he’s not prepared for the paparazzi frenzy after a starlet falls face down on his lap at L.A.’s trendiest new night club.
America’s Sweetheart, Mackenzie Bennett’s career is on the rocks after a few lackluster movies damaged her studio appeal. She needs something to change, and fast. What she does not need is the firestorm that ensues after an ill-fated spill is caught on camera. Spending Christmas in Colorado with the man she publicly embarrassed is her only option to turn around the bad press.
While a fake relationship might drum up the publicity needed to save both of their careers, a small-town family Christmas may be just what they both need to figure out what truly matters…
Going Down on One Knee
Number-crunching Velma Johnson's perfectly planned life is right on course.
That's a lie. Sure, she's got the lucrative job. She's got the posh apartment. But her sister nabbed Velma's Mr. Right. There has to be a man out there for Velma. Hopefully, one who's hunky, wears pressed suits, and has a diversified financial portfolio. He'll be exactly like, well... her sister's new fiancé.
Badass biker Brek Montgomery blazes a trail across the country, managing Dimefront, one of the biggest rock bands of his generation. With the band on hiatus, Brek rolls into Denver to pay a quick visit to his family and friends. But when Brek's sister suddenly gets put on bed rest, she convinces Brek to take over her wedding planning business for the duration of her pregnancy.
Staying in Denver and dealing with bridezillas was not what Brek had in mind when he passed through town, but there is one particular maid-of-honor who might make his stay worthwhile.
Velma finds herself strangely attracted to the man planning her sister's wedding. Problem is, he ticks none of the boxes on her well-crafted list. Brek is rough around the edges, he cusses, and doesn't even have a 401(k). But trying something crazy might get her out of the rut of her dating life--so long as she lays down boundaries up front and sticks to her plan...
Rock Hard Cowboy
Chapter One
Two Weeks to Christmas
Christmas sucked.
Also, Tucker McKay had great hair. Amazing black hair. Not too long. Not too short. The perfect length for running a girl’s fingers through. And that little bit of a beard? It worked.
He was tall, dark and…never ever, ever.
On that thought, Mackenzie Bennett nursed her tall glass of seltzer water with a twist of lime while making herself seen in the newest hoity toity, excessively expensive Los Angeles nightclub. The fizzy bubbles in her drink had disappeared over an hour ago.
Music pulsed around her, the strobe lights on the dance floor below making the revelers appear as disjointed puppets. Funny that. If there was a disjointed puppet on the premises, it was her. Always doing what she was told. Always standing where directed. Always being someone else.
She kept a smile plastered on her face and her expression light. That’s what a good actress did. Never show how you really feel when you’re on the job. Always let the character shine through. In that moment, the character was the version of herself the public got to see. The smoky-eyed, shiny-haired starlet who really, deep down, wanted to spend her evening bingeing on Netflix while eating a grilled cheese sandwich created with the most over-processed American cheese product she could find.
God, she missed food like that.
She held her gaze on rocker-legend-slash-cowboy Tucker. The way he was propped up in a corner booth in the VIP section. The way his head bopped ever so slightly to the thump of the blaring music. The way his muscled arm was slung along the edge of the booth and his laughter permeated the VIP lounge.
“You’re not having any fun.” Her best friend and business manager, Leah, waggled a tipsy red-painted fingertip in her direction. Half her nails were red, half green. Very festive and all that.
“We’re worried about you.” Their not-quite-drunk friend Abby squeezed Kenzie’s arm. “Do I need to call Taylor? Get the whole gang together?”
“We should do a holiday cheer intervention,” Leah suggested. “We’ll drink eggnog and make her sing ‘Jingle Bells.’”
Kenzie couldn’t help the smile that played at the corners of her mouth.
These women made up Kenzie’s entourage. The ones who got the messy reality alongside the Hollywood glam. The ones who knew Kenzie had a secret passion for 1:00 a.m. bubble baths and writing screenplays that would never be produced. The ones who, no matter how adept an actress Kenzie was, would know she was putting up a front.
They knew her better than she knew herself most times.
So she didn’t lie.
“I’m just doing my time.” Kenzie nodded toward a group of women a level down on the dance floor. That group of ladies had been watching her for a solid twenty minutes.
One of the women waved back tentatively, giggled, and huddled with her friends.
“Your holiday spirit is seriously lacking.” Leah snagged a martini from the waiter circulating a tray loaded with the drink of the day. Something orange and red—and it probably tasted like pineapple, if Kenzie had to guess.
“I’ll find my Christmas cheer once the offer comes through.” Kenzie eyed the sunset-colored drink. She wanted one, sure, but she wouldn’t have one. Not when she was in public. Not when she was on a job. Even if the job was stupid. She was being paid an absurd amount of money to be at the club tonight. A club she had absolutely no intention of ever visiting again.
That wasn’t the point though. Once she was seen somewhere, patrons would show up again and again, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And since her last two box office receipts had been lacking, she filled in her budget gaps with appearances. Until the next opportunity moseyed along. Which would, she prayed to Lady Luck, be soon. Soon-ish.
“Any day. They’ll come around any day now,” Abby assured.
That was easy for her to say. Her life wasn’t publicly and personally entwined in her ability to stay on the big screen. Sure, Kenz
ie had been smart with her money. Saved it. Invested it. But with the way Hollywood worked, her savings could only take her so far. She needed to nab a new role.
“Don’t look back. The future is ahead.” Leah made a dramatic hand motion like a soldier heading into battle.
Negotiations on Kenzie’s latest movie—a romantic comedy about a farm girl in the big city—had fallen apart weeks ago, after her latest film flopped at the box office. Someone from the studio had leaked that they were eyeing other actresses for her part. Kenzie felt like the trap door had dropped open, spilling a washed-up actress just shy of stage left. It was all very, very public.
Very, very humiliating.
“I’m not looking back.” No, she was looking straight at Tucker.
Kenzie’s gaze slid the length of him. He might be a rock ’n’ roll legend, but he was also muscled, charming, and a total jerk.
A jerk she’d shared a moment with at her premier last month. It was like in one of her movies, where the heroine sees the hero from across the room. They trace each other with their eyes, up then down, both liking what they see. And then something more—a connection—forms. Love at first sight? No, that doesn’t happen. But definitely more than lust.
They’d chatted about the business, his music, her movies. He’d told her about his family, his ranch. She’d shared about her dreams of time away from the world, where she wouldn’t always be the focus. Her job was her passion, but sometimes she dreamed of a break. Those were the times she’d doodle out a scene or two of her own creation. She’d told him that bit, too. Only those closest to her knew about her writing.
He was entirely too easy to talk to.
For a glimmer of a second, she’d thought what she and Tucker had between them was real. Not even the Hollywood brand of real, but out-of-the-spotlight real.
When she’d searched him out later that night to make a move, he was gone.
Then he told the press she was a crappy actress.
Then her movie lost a shit ton of money at the box office.
So, yeah, she was a little raw about it all.
That treatment from nearly anyone else? She’d merely smile and move along. She’d been in the business long enough to understand everyone had an opinion. But, for some reason, Tucker’s mattered. His criticism stung. Tonight, she would remedy that. As soon as she figured out what to say.
“You should dance.” Leah slipped her arm through Kenzie’s and tugged her toward the VIP dance floor.
Abby linked her other arm and helped Leah scoot her along.
Not nearly as packed as the one downstairs, this dance floor was created for visibility throughout the club. Kenzie was being paid to attend tonight, and it was expected she appear to have a fabulous time.
Her contract said so.
“In a sec. I’m gonna talk to Tucker first.” Kenzie disentangled her arms, stood tall on her stiletto heels, and weaved through the crowd toward him.
“That’s a bad idea…” Leah continued talking but Kenzie ignored her.
What she was going to say? She had no idea. But she was going to tell him…something. Find out why he’d said mean things about her, what she’d done to offend him. That kind of thing. She’d figure it out.
Maybe something about how he’d hurt her feelings and he should apologize.
Yes, that’s what she’d say. And she’d say it with style, and class.
The nearly transparent dress her stylist had outfitted her in made hustling anywhere practically impossible. The heels didn’t help. So she took her time sauntering across the VIP section. Her bodyguard shadowed her movements. He was behind her, but she knew he was there. He was always there when she did these appearances.
“Tucker?” she asked, approaching his table.
His gaze lifted to hers. It softened for a split second. “Hey.”
“I came by to say hello.” She fidgeted with her glass. Which was unacceptable. She set it on the table and nudged it from the edge with her finger.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the other side of the booth. The guy sitting there scooted over to make room for her.
She didn’t sit.
“I was thinking we could chat alone, about some of the things you mentioned to a reporter about my movie.”
“Oh. That.” He ran a hand over his neck. The movement made the defined muscles of his triceps bunch.
Dammit. She wasn’t over here to check out his arms.
“Have your people call his people,” one of his people said.
Kenzie leaned toward Tucker, ignoring his entourage. “I’d really like a conversation.”
“Look.” His eyes were soft again. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “Magazines print what magazines print.”
She took a deep breath.
“I just think—” Someone—a bulky someone—bumped her from behind.
The stilettos wobbled, her balance precarious. She threw her arm wide to catch herself. It didn’t work.
Her knees buckled.
Damn. This was going to hurt.
She fell forward.
“Shit.” Tucker moved to grab her.
Too late. The momentum caught her.
And that’s how, two weeks before Christmas, she found herself face-first in Tucker McKay’s crotch.
Enjoyed the sample?
Rock Hard Cowboy is Available Now!
Rock Hard Cowboy
Copyright © 2018 Christina Hovland
All rights reserved.
Going Down on One Knee
Chapter One, The Countdown Begins
Three words. Three. Little. Words. Nothing important.
Okay, so the three words were important. Massive, really.
“Congratulations, you two,” Velma Johnson rehearsed aloud to the vase of a dozen yellow roses gripped in her arms. With a reaffirming gulp of Denver’s crisp spring air, she hustled through the open-air parking garage to the security door of her apartment building.
Her sister, Claire, had big news. To be exact, Claire and her boyfriend, Dean, had big news. Velma had a feeling she knew exactly what their news would be—they were moving in together. The next step in their relationship. Tension in Velma’s neck strung tight at the thought.
A successful career and a posh apartment she could eventually rent out as an investment were steps one and two of Velma’s elaborate five-year plan. She had ticked both those boxes. Dean, three kids, and moving to a two-story house just outside of Denver had been steps three through seven.
Not anymore. Now, her sister was moving in with the man Velma had crushed on for years. The one Velma measured all others against. The one she sang Prince and Madonna songs with at the office.
Yes, they were moving in together. That’s why Claire had called yesterday and asked to take her to dinner. Velma had insisted they meet at her place instead. Her invitation had nothing to do with the fact she liked having Dean visit her apartment—even if he was with her sister. She’d offered because it made sense they’d want a private location for their big reveal. And when the announcement came that they’d be embracing that next relationship milestone…well, being on her home turf sounded pretty darn appealing.
Just as she reached the security door, the sound of a motorcycle that clearly had no muffler cut through her thoughts. She turned. The bike pulled up next to her car—into the parking spot meant for her guests. A super-muscled, badass-mother-trucker of a biker swung his leg over the side of the motorcycle and stood.
Her heart stopped with a thunk.
Vin-Diesel-biker-dude pulled off his helmet and—sweet mother of Mary, had the temperature jumped by ten degrees? She got the picture: he rode a motorcycle, hit the gym twice a day. The type she avoided because she did not do badass. She preferred the suspenders-and-slacks kind of man. Except, at that moment, she debated how important that preference really was to her.
Focus, Velma. Head held high, she approached him. “Excuse me? Sir? You can’t park there.”
&nb
sp; He frowned at the number marking the spot.
Normally she wouldn’t mind sharing the space, but with Claire, Dean, and his friend Brek coming to dinner, she needed both of her parking spaces.
This man was obviously not Dean’s friend. Dean’s friends were all buttoned-up, suit-wearing, Wednesday-afternoon golfers. She was nearly certain.
The black leather jacket and jeans ripped at this guy’s knees looked horribly out of place next to her Prius. His longish, rock-’n’-roll blond hair was nicer than hers (although his could use a trim). She didn’t even mind the dragon tattoo creeping around the side of his neck or the layer of mud coating his motorcycle boots. Everything about the man screamed masculine.
Velma shifted the heavy vase in her grip. Fudge. Which of her neighbors was letting their guests use her spot this time?
“No, see, that’s the spot for my apartment.” Oh, how she wanted to rub at the headache pulsing at her forehead. She didn’t have time for this. Not today. “I’m sorry, it’s just that my sister and her boyfriend and his friend are coming for dinner because my sister has big news. And while I have no idea what that news is, it’s important to her. So that makes it important to me. Which is why I put on a pork roast, bought roses, and got out my crystal wine goblets. That’s what you do when your sister has big news, you know? Never mind she’s practically living my five-year plan without even trying, and I’m over here without even a boyfriend. That was not part of my plan. At this point, I should be at least six months into dating my future husband.”
Oh God. She was rambling. And he was staring at her with a half grin that made her skin flush. Seriously, the way the man smiled should be outlawed.
She ducked her head. “Anyway, I have company coming and I kind of need my spot.”
Blow Me Away: A Mile High Matched Novel, Book 2 Page 23