Hey, psst….Do you like Cowboys? Especially those bullriders who know just how to handle a dangerous ride?

Well then, you are in luck today!

The short story sequel to A Calculated Seduction, Going for Eight, is now out in the Torrid Anthology A Torrid Celebration.

Here’s a little taste:

“What the hell do you want, Dillon?” Sam’s belligerent tone had Gerry’s eyes narrowing as he studied the younger man. Charlie would’ve just laughed and enjoyed the show—if Gerry wasn’t involved.
“What I want is for you to take your hand off of Ms. Freemont and go take some time to cool off.”
Sam snorted. “Ms. Freemont? Ain’t that a fancy name? I guess you’ve been gone so long, you don’t know her nickname.”
Deceptively calm, Gerry slipped his hands into his back pockets. She knew him better. There was a good chance he was doing that to resist the urge punch Sam.
“What name is that?” She could barely hear Gerry’s voice, but she recognized the steel beneath the tone.
Sam opened his mouth, but Charlie stopped him. “Gerry.” She waited until turned his attention from Sam to her. The full weight of his scrutiny sent a rush of heat over her flesh. It had been like this for years. She couldn’t be in the same room with Gerry without her legs going wobbly as a new-born colt’s. There was something behind those clear, dark-blue eyes that had her heart thumping, her body warming. But that was her tough luck. He thought of her as a little sister, and he always would.
“I can take care of this myself.”
Gerry cocked his head to one side. “I know you think you can. What I want to know is what Whitehorse calls you?”
Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Her nickname of “Goodtime Charlie” hadn’t really bothered her at all. In fact, she enjoyed it. No man expected her to tie him down, and they all understood they’d never get their hands on her daddy’s ranch. There’d been a few, just after she’d graduated from high school, who’d tried that route. When she’d made it clear that, just because they got her in bed didn’t mean they were going to get a piece of her heart—or a piece of her land—they’d all disappeared fast enough.
But now, for the first time ever, she was mortified. It was different for this man, the one she’d always wanted and could never get, to know that Brander’s residents saw her as the town skank. True, none of them said so to her face. They feared what she could do to them, since her father owned much of the town, and many found seasonal work on Freemont Ranch.
“Let it go, Gerry.”
“I don’t think I want to.”
She snorted to hide the pain that stabbed at her heart. “You don’t always get what you want.”
Gerry’s gaze traveled down the length of her body, then all the way back up to her face. Her flesh burned as if he’d physically touched her. Her nipples hardened, her blood hummed with pleasure.
One side of Gerry’s mouth kicked up seductively as he said, “I’m working on that problem.”

Be sure to join me at 9 pm eastern on the Torrid Readers Group for some fun and laughs and free STUFF!