Cowboy Most Wanted by Stina Lindenblatt is the first book in the Copper Creek series! Check out an exclusive excerpt from the novel here.
Reality TV meets cowboys in Cowboy Most Wanted by Stina Lindenblatt! TJ Daniels gets talked into joining a Bachelorette-style reality show by his brother, in the hopes that a little air time on TV will save their family ranch. Though TJ isn’t exactly looking forward to being thrust into the limelight, he agrees to help bring the ranch publicity.
What TJ wasn’t expecting was to find his former crush, Violet, working for the TV series as a photographer. Things quickly begin to heat up between them, which means TJ has some big decisions to make. Go after the women he wants, but shouldn’t, or try to help his family.
‘Cowboy Most Wanted’ by Stina Lindenblatt exclusive excerpt:
Violet glances out the living room window. “TJ, we should head out now. The lighting will be perfect soon for what I have planned for the photos.”
“Craig,” Camilla says, standing from the couch. “We might as well join them and get footage of TJ modeling for the camera.”
Disappointment kicks me in the ass. Violet has been sending me unmixed signals, and now I want to find out if I’ve been reading them correctly. Find out if they’re what I’m hoping for.
Find out if they’re what I shouldn’t be hoping for.
But I can’t do it with Craig and Camilla tagging along.
“That’s probably not a good idea.” Violet says it a little too quickly, gaining a few surprised looks. “I mean, I’ll be shooting photos with low, directional lighting. It will look great for what I have in mind. It won’t look so hot for the video camera.” If the speed of words spoken was a rodeo event, Violet just won top prize.
“She’s right,” Craig says. “Depending on where she plans to do it, I’ll need the lighting guys back to add diffused lighting to help soften the shadows.”
“Which will ruin the effect I’m after,” Violet says, going in for the final kill.
After a moment, Camilla nods—and I release the breath I didn’t realize was lodged in my lungs. “Okay. We’ll sit this one out. I’ve got some work I have to do anyway.”
Violet gathers her gear and we walk to the barn.
“Shirt on or off?” I ask once we get to the spot where she plans to shoot the photos.
Her mouth takes on a mischievous grin. “On for now.”
“Where do you want me?” I have a few suggestions, but they aren’t appropriate for family-friendly photos.
She points to the side of the building, softly lit in the sun’s golden glow, then sets up her tripod and camera.
She then walks to a bale of straw that she had asked me earlier to put there. She bends down and starts dragging it toward me.
“You need help?” I say, making a move toward her to do exactly that.
“No, I’m good.”
Yep, from the prime view of her ass I’m getting, I’d say she’s more than good.
“Keep wiggling your ass like that and I’ll be so hard, you won’t be able to take photos for a while.” My voice comes out low and sandpaper rough—not at all like my usual voice around her.
She peers over her shoulder and her gaze lands on my package—which doesn’t help my present situation. “Oops, sorry.”
Except she sounds far from sorry.
And that gets my cock even more worked up.
Which is definitely an issue for the photo.
I recite the chili recipe in my head. Not the most effective image but it’s preferable over the other option: dwelling on the ex-SEAL who shares her genetics.
Once the bale is positioned near the wall, she straightens. “Put your foot on that.”
I do as she asks, and she explains how she wants me to pose: one hand resting on my upper thigh, my head tilted slightly forward, hand on the rim of my cowboy hat.
She gently places both of her hands on either side of my face. My heart hammers against my chest like a swarm of dragonflies trapped inside.
She repositions my head, the movement negligible. “That’s perfect.” Her voice is soft and breathy, the sound of an angel’s song. “Don’t move, and I’ll get a few shots with you like that.”
She lightly caresses her thumb across my cheek, further hyping up the dragonflies. Then she removes her hands from my face and measures the light falling on me—her explanation—with some weird-looking handheld device.
Violet returns to her camera and starts clicking away. The entire time, she directs me on how to move.
And when I say move, I’m talking tiny adjustments. Tiny adjustments in the way I’m standing. Tiny adjustments in the position of my head. Tiny adjustments in the way I breathe. I couldn’t imagine being a model and doing this full time. By the end of it, I’d resemble a crazed monkey caught in a factory of fake bananas.
After she’s been snapping photos for several minutes, she asks me to lower my hand and look up at the camera.
Those dragonflies in my chest? They go berserk at the vision in front of me. I suck in a sharp breath.
The sun is shining on her dark hair, setting strands of it on fire with bursts of red. Her bare arms and shoulders also glow in the warm light. She resembles a dark-haired angel—and damned if I don’t need saving.
“Oh, that’s perfect.” Her tone is more strained than it was a few minutes ago. “There’s going to be a lot of exploding ovaries from women checking out your pictures on the show’s website.”
“Sounds painful,” I say, doing my best not to move, my eyes still locked on Violet.
Her mouth slides up to one side. “Fortunately, it’s not fatal.”
“Are your ovaries exploding?” My voice is even rougher than before. Rougher and heated.
She walks slowly toward me, the way you do with a colt you suspect is going to bolt. Only she doesn’t have to worry about me going anywhere.
She stops in front of me. “Maybe a little.”
I smirk. “Just a little? I must be losing my touch.”
She laughs. “Somehow I don’t think you’re losing anything.” She runs her hands along the collar of my white western shirt, brushing her fingertips against my skin.
A shiver of anticipation rolls through me, but I don’t move. I just gaze at her, barely breathing.