Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why.
A certain curvy romance author has me by the balls and won't let go.
Cassia Murphy is the prettiest little thing I've ever seen. The second I saw her photo staring up at me from the back of the book Cleary left on my coffee table, I was hooked. Those brown doe eyes and that sweet, cheeky smile are Kryptonite for a man like me. I haven't had soft in decades. Sweet either, for that matter. That smile promised both.
I started reading that damn book right then and there. Spent all fucking night reading every word, curious to know what a sweet little thing like her looks for in a man. Imagine my surprise when every word pissed me off. She's talented beyond measure. The way she paints a picture with her words is a thing of beauty. But the more I read, the more I realized I didn't want her writing about some other man. I wanted her writing about me. I wanted her thinking about me.
I want her, period.
I shouldn't have fired off that first email, but I knew it'd get her attention. She's a fucking goddess. Men probably line up to compete for a moment of her time. I doubt many complain her heroes aren't alpha enough. I cut to the front of the line, gave her a reason to remember me. Of course insulting her cowboys riled her up. She's feisty and gives as good as she gets.
I've been stalking her social media like a goddamn creep ever since. Cleary refuses to loan me another book. She's suspicious. I won't tell her why I'm reading them. She thinks I've lost my mind. Hell, I may have. I email Cassia every fucking day, just because I can't resist. I want her thinking about me. When she sits down to write, I want it to be my name on her mind, my emails running through her head.
I'm ready to fly to Seattle to spank her pretty little ass for ignoring me. But even I know that's taking it a step too far. Cam and Cleary will kill me if I end up in a jail cell for stalking and they have to run this place. The ranch has been in our family for generations, but neither of them has much interest in it. Cleary is happiest with her books and crime statistics, and since Cam came home from overseas, all he wants is his cabin up the mountain and a sturdy piece of wood beneath his hands.
That's all right with me. I find peace here, a little bit of quiet in the chaos. This place is home to me, but that doesn't mean it has to be home for them. All I want for my siblings is happiness. Life is too fucking short to spend it miserable. Losing our parents in a car accident fifteen years ago taught me that. With Cam already in the service, taking care of Cleary fell to me. I went from being a twenty-six-year-old kid to raising a ten-year-old little girl overnight. When Cam got hurt a few years later, we almost lost him too. It made me realize what's important in life and what isn't. So long as my brother and sister are safe and happy, I'm happy.
My phone rings, vibrating against my leg.
"Jace, keep 'em moving," I shout to Jace, and then fish my cell from my pocket.
"Found your goddamn bull again," Cam growls into the phone.
"Hello to you too," I mutter to my younger brother, smirking. Cam never changes. He's a grumpy motherfucker morning, noon, and night. All that time alone on the mountain killed his people skills. Not that he had many to begin with. He was a sniper with the Rangers. He had to distance himself from people for self-preservation.
"The fence isn't broken. He's breaking it," he says, ignoring my greeting. "The bastard figured out how to use his horns to pull loose wire down around the posts. I watched him do it. We're going to have to ride the whole fucking fence-line to reinforce it."
"Motherfucker," I growl, tipping my head back to stare up at the sky. The weather is calling for another storm sometime tomorrow. We don't have time to ride miles of fence right now. It'll take days for us to check it all. "How the fuck did he learn to do that?"
"Don't know," Cam says and then snorts. "You would have the one bull on the planet trying to prison break his way out of a lifetime supply of pussy."
He's not wrong. I don't think that's the problem though. Hamburger has no problem breeding every heifer he comes across. He just thinks fences don't apply to him.
"You need to chip him," Cam says. "It'd save me a lot of time."