All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  EPub Edition DECEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780062284723

  Version 11222013

  Print Edition ISBN: 9780062284730

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  Give in to your impulses . . .

  Read on for a sneak peek at six brand-new

  e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.

  Available now wherever e-books are sold.

  ONCE UPON A HIGHLAND SUMMER

  By Lecia Cornwall

  HARD TARGET

  By Kay Thomas

  THE WEDDING DATE

  A CHRISTMAS NOVELLA

  By Cara Connelly

  TORN

  A BILLIONAIRE BACHELORS CLUB NOVEL

  By Monica Murphy

  THE CUPCAKE DIARIES: SPOONFUL OF CHRISTMAS

  By Darlene Panzera

  RODEO QUEEN

  By T. J. Kline

  An Excerpt from

  ONCE UPON A HIGHLAND SUMMER

  by Lecia Cornwall

  An ancient curse, a pair of meddlesome ghosts, a girl on the run, and a fateful misunderstanding make for the perfect chance at true love in Lecia Cornwall’s latest novella.

  “I’ll have your decision now, if you please.”

  Lady Caroline Forrester stared at the carpet in her half-brother’s study. It was like everything else in his London mansion—expensive, elegant, and chosen solely to proclaim his consequence as the Earl of Somerson. She fixed her eyes on the blue swirls and arabesques knotted into the rug and wondered what distant land it came from, and if she could go there herself rather than make the choice Somerson demanded.

  “Come now,” he said impatiently. “You have two suitors to choose from. Viscount Speed has two thousand pounds a year, and will inherit his father’s earldom.”

  “In Ireland,” Caroline whispered under her breath. Speed also had oily, perpetually damp skin and a lisp, and was only interested in her because her dowry would make him rich. At least for a short while, until he spent her money as he’d spent his own fortune—on mistresses, whist, and horses.

  “And Lord Mandeville has a fine estate on the border with Wales. His mother lives there, so she would be company for you.”

  Mandeville spent no time at all in his country estate for that exact reason. Caroline had been in London only a month, but she’d heard the gossip. Lady Mandeville went through highborn companions the way Charlotte—Somerson’s countess—devoured cream cakes at tea.

  Lady Mandeville was famous for her bad temper, her sharp tongue, and her dogs. She raised dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of yappy, snappy, unpleasant little creatures that behaved just like their mistress, if the whispered stories were to be believed. The lady unfortunate enough to become Lord Mandeville’s wife would serve as the old woman’s companion until one of them died, with no possibility of quitting the post to take a more pleasant job.

  “So which gentleman will you have?” Somerson demanded, pacing the room, his posture stiff, his hands clasped behind his back, his face sober. Caroline had laughed when he’d first told her the two men had offered for her hand. But it wasn’t a joke. Her half-brother truly expected her to pick one of the odious suitors he’d selected for her and tie herself to that man for life. He looked down his hooked nose at her, a trait inherited from their father, along with his pale, bulging eyes. Caroline resembled her mother, the late earl’s second wife, which was probably why Somerson couldn’t stand the sight of her. As a young man he’d objected to his father’s new bride most strenuously, because she was too young, too pretty, and the daughter of a mere baronet, without fortune or high connections. He’d even objected to the new countess’s red hair. Caroline raised a hand to smooth a wayward russet curl behind her ear. Speed had red hair—orange, really—and spindly pinkish eyelashes.

  Caroline thought of her niece Lottie, who was upstairs having her wedding dress fitted, arguing with her mother over what shade of ribbon would best suit the flowers in the bouquet. She was marrying William Rutherford, Viscount Mears—Caroline’s William, the man she’d known all her life, the eldest son and heir of the Earl of Halliwell, a neighbor and dear friend of her parents’. It had always been expected that she’d wed one of Halliwell’s sons, but Sinjon, the earl’s younger son, had left home to join the army and go to war rather than propose to Caroline. And now William, who even Caroline thought would make an offer for her hand, had instead chosen Lottie’s hand. Caroline shut her eyes. It was beginning to feel like a curse. Not that it mattered now. William had made his choice. Still, a wedding should be a happy thing, the bride as joyful as Lottie, the future ripe with the possibilities of love and happiness.

  Caroline didn’t even like her suitors—well, they weren’t really her suitors. They were courting her dowry, and a connection to Somerson. They needed her money, but they didn’t need her.

  An Excerpt from

  HARD TARGET

  by Kay Thomas

  Kay Thomas’ thrilling Elite Ops series kicks off with an unlikely hero and a mother determined to save her child. When Anna Mercado’s son is kidnapped, Former DEA agent Leland Hollis agrees to deliver the ransom into dangerous territory south of the border. Getting the boy out of a violent cartel region involves risking everything. And for that, Leland will have to convince Anna to do the scariest thing of all . . . open her heart and trust him.

  “Could you hand me my top, please?”

  Leland bent down to retrieve Anna’s shirt and turned away, staring at the floor in front of him to give her privacy. What the hell was he doing? At least he’d given the room a cursory inspection to rule out cameras or bugs before he’d practically screwed her against the bedroom wall.

  What he’d really wanted to tell her, before they’d gotten sidetracked by the birth control issue, was the same thing he’d wanted to tell her last night: She didn’t have to do him to get Zach back. Whether or not they had sex had no bearing on whether he’d help find her son.

  Not that he didn’t want her. He did. So much so that his teeth ached.

  He hadn’t known her long, but what he knew fascinated him. To have dealt with everything she had in the past year and still be so strong—that inner strength captivated him.

  It was important she not think he expected sex in exchange for his help. Sex wasn’t some kind of payoff. He needed to clarify that right away.

  Besides, neither of them was going to be able to sleep now. He sighed, zipped his cargo shorts, and pulled on his t-shirt and the shoulder holster with the Ruger. He shoved the larger Glock into his backpack. This was going to be a long evening.

  The night breeze had shifted the shabby curtain to the side, leaving an unobscured view into the room. He turned to face her, wondering if anyone on the street had just gotten an eyeful.

  A red laser dot reflected off the wide shoulder strap of her tank top. Recognizing the threat, he dove for her, shouting, “Down. Get down!”

  Leland tackled Anna around the waist and pulled her to the floor. A bullet hit the wall with a deceptively soft sphlift, right where she’d been standing half a second earlier.

  He climbed on top of her, his heart rate skyrocketing, and covered her completely with his body. His boot was awkward. His knee came down between her legs, trapping her in the skirt. More shots slapped the stucco, but they were all hitting above his head.

  The gunman must be using a silencer. A loud car engine revved in the street. Voices shouted, and bullets flew through the window, no longer silenced.

  How many shooters were there?

  A flaming bottle whooshed through the window. It broke on impact, and fire spread rapidly across the dry plywood floor. The pop of more bullets against the wall sounded deceptively benign.

  “What’s happening?” Anna’s lips were at his ear.

  Her warm breath would have felt seductive if not for the shots flying overhead and the fire licking at his ass. He was crushing her with his body weight, but it was the only way to protect her from the onslaught.

  “Why are they shooting at
us?” Her voice was thin, like she was having trouble breathing.

  He propped himself up on his elbows to take his weight off of her chest but kept his head down next to hers. “They want the money.”

  “How do they know about the ransom?” she asked.

  “Everyone within a hundred miles knows about it.” He raised his head cautiously.

  They were nose to nose, but he ignored the intimacy of the position. They had to get out of the smoke-filled room. In here, even with just half the money, they were sitting ducks.

  He needed his bag. It held all his ammunition and the Glock 17. And they couldn’t leave the cash, not now anyway. The money might be the only thing that could keep them alive when they got out of here.

  “Come on.” He rolled to the side and tugged Anna’s hand to pull her along with him. “But don’t raise your head.”

  Another bullet hit the wall where she had been moments before. God, how many men were there? Knowing that could make a difference in getting out of this alive.

  An Excerpt from

  THE WEDDING DATE

  A Christmas Novella

  by Cara Connelly

  In this sexy holiday novella, rising star and award-winning author Cara Connelly launches a new series about the magic of weddings!

  “Blind dates are for losers.” Julie Marone pinched the phone with her shoulder and used both hands to scrape the papers on her desk into a tidy pile. “You really think I’m a loser?”

  “Not a loser, exactly.” Amelia’s inflection kept her options open.

  Julie snorted a laugh. “Gee, thanks, sis. Tell me how you really feel.”

  “You know what I mean. You’ve been out of circulation for three years. You have to start somewhere.”

  “Sure, but did it have to be at the bottom of the barrel?”

  “Peter’s a nice guy!” Amelia protested.

  “Absolutely,” Julie said agreeably. “So devoted to dear old mom that he still lives in her basement.”

  Amelia let out a here-we-go-again groan. “He’s an optometrist, for crying out loud. I assumed he’d have his own place.”

  Julie started on the old saying about what happens when you assume, but Amelia cut her off. “Yeah, yeah. Ass. You. Me. Got it. Anyway, Leo”—tonight’s date—“is a definite step up. I checked with his sister”—Amelia’s hair stylist—“and she said he’s got a house in Natick. His practice is thriving.”

  “So why’s he going on a blind date?”

  “His divorce just came through.”

  Julie groaned. Recently divorced men fell into two categories. “Shopping for a replacement or still simmering with resentment?”

  “Come on, Jules, give him a chance.”

  Julie sighed, slid the stack of papers into a folder marked Westin/Anderson, and added it to her briefcase for tomorrow’s closing. “Just tell me where to meet him.”

  “On Hanover Street at seven. He made reservations at a place on Prince.”

  “Well, in that case.” Dinner in Boston’s North End almost made it worthwhile. Julie was always up for good Italian. “How will I recognize him? Tall, dark, and handsome?” A girl could hope.

  “Dark . . . but . . . not tall. Wearing a red scarf.”

  “Handsome?”

  Amelia cleared her throat. “I caught one of his commercials the other night. He’s got a nice smile.”

  “Whoa, wait. Commercials? What kind of lawyer is he?”

  “Personal injury.” Amelia dropped it like a turd. Then said, “Oh, look, Ray’s here. Gotta go,” and hung up.

  “How did I get into this?” Julie murmured.

  The catalyst, she knew, was Amelia’s own upcoming Christmas Eve wedding. She wanted Julie—her maid of honor—to bring a date. A real date, not her gay friend Dan. Amelia loved Dan like a brother, but he was single too, always up for hanging out, and he made it too easy for Julie to duck the dating game.

  So Amelia had lined up three eligible men and informed Julie that if she didn’t give them a chance, then their mother—a confirmed cougar with not-great taste in men—would bring a wedding date for her.

  Recognizing a train wreck when she saw one coming, Julie had given in and agreed to date all three. So far they were shaping up even worse than expected.

  Jan appeared in the doorway. “J-Julie?” Her usually pale cheeks were pink. Her tiny bosom heaved. “Oh, Julie. You’ll never believe . . . the most . . . I mean . . . .”

  “Take a breath, Jan.” Julie did that thing where she pointed two fingers at Jan’s eyes, then back at her own. “Focus.”

  Jan sucked air through her nose, let it out with a wheeze. “Okay, we just had a walk-in. From Austin.” She wheezed again. “He’s gorgeous. And that drawl . . . .” Wheeze.

  Julie nodded encouragingly. It never helped to rush Jan.

  “He said . . .” Jan fanned herself, for real. She was actually perspiring. “He said someone in the ER told him about you.”

  That sounded ominous.

  Julie glanced at her watch. Five forty-five, too late to deal with mysterious strangers. If she left now, she’d just have time to get home and change into something more casual for her date.

  “Ask him to come back tomorrow,” she said. “I don’t have time—”

  “He just wants a minute.” Jan wiped her palms on her grey, pleated skirt. At twenty-five, she dressed like Julie’s Gram, but inside she was stuck at sixteen, helpless in the face of a handsome man. “I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t say no.”

  Julie blew out a sigh, wondering—again—why she’d hired her silly cousin in the first place. Because family was family, that’s why.

  “Fine. Send him in.”

  Ten seconds later, six-foot-two of Texan filled her door. Tawny hair, caramel eyes, tanned cheekbones.

  Whoa.

  An Excerpt from

  TORN

  A Billionaire Bachelors Club Novel

  by Monica Murphy

  The boys of New York Times bestselling author Monica Murphy’s sexy Billionaire Bachelors Club are back, and this time, they’re mixing business with pleasure. Poised to snatch up Marina Knight’s real estate empire, sexy tycoon Gage Emerson is on the verge of making an enemy for life—even if he can make her melt with a single kiss! But when Gage discovers that this alluring creature is the key to his latest acquisition, he must get to know the fierce woman willing to face him down—as she steadily steals his heart.

  “This is a huge mistake.”

  “What is?” He settles those big hands of his on my waist. His long fingers span outward, gripping me tight, and I feel like I’ve been seized by some uncontrollable force, one I can’t fight off no matter how hard I try.

  That force would be Gage.

  “I already told you.” God, he’s exasperating. It’s like he doesn’t even listen to a word I say. “Us. Together. There will never be an ‘us’ or a ‘together,’ got it?”

  “Got it, boss.” He’s not really listening, I can tell. He’s pulled away slightly so that he can stare down at me, enraptured by the sight of his hands on my body. A shock of brown hair tinged with gold tumbles down across his forehead, and I resist the urge to reach out and push it away from his face.

  Just barely.

  He slides his hands around me until they settle at the small of my back, his fingertips barely grazing my backside. I’m wearing jeans, yet it’s like I can feel his touch directly on my skin. Heat rushes over me, making my head spin, and I let go of a shaky exhalation.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” I whisper, pressing my lips together when I feel his hands slide over my butt. Oh my God, his touch feels so good.

  What the hell am I thinking, letting him touch me like this? It’s wrong. Us together is wrong.

  So why does it feel so right?

  “Do what?” His question sounds innocent enough, but his touch isn’t. He pulls me into him so that I can feel the unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing against my belly, and a gasp escapes me. He’s big. T
hick. My thighs shake at the thought of him entering me.

  I need to put a stop to this, and quick.

  “I don’t think we sh—”

  Gage presses his index finger to my lips, silencing me. I stare up at him, entranced by the glow in his eyes, the way he stares at my mouth. Like he’s a starving man dying to devour me.

  Anticipation thrums through my veins. I should walk away now. Right now, before we take this any further. We’re standing in the doorway of the bakery for God’s sake. Anyone could see us, not that many people are roaming the downtown sidewalks at this time of night. He’s got one hand sprawled across my ass, and he’s tracing my lips with his finger like he wants to memorize the shape of them.

  And I’m . . . parting my lips so I can suck on his fingertip.

  His eyes darken as he slips his finger deeper into my mouth. I close my lips around him, sucking, tasting his salty skin with a flick of my tongue. A rough, masculine sound rumbles from his chest as his hand falls away from my lips. He drifts his fingers down my chin, then my neck, and my breath catches in my throat.

  “Gage.” I whisper his name, confused. Is it a plea for him to stop or for him to continue? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want from him.

  “Scared?” he asks, his lids lifting so that he can pin me with his gorgeous green eyes. They’re glittering in the semidarkness, full of so much hunger, and my body responds, pulsating with need.

  I try my best to offer a snide response, but the truth comes out instead: “Terrified.”

  He lowers his head. I can feel his breath feather across my lips, and I part them in anticipation, eager for his kiss. “That makes two of us,” he whispers.

  Just before he settles his mouth on mine.