Snippet Saturday --

Welcome to Snippet Saturday. Today I'm sharing a snippet from my soon to be released romance set in the hill country of Texas on the Triple-S Ranch. Cowboys, horses, Pistol, the Basset hound, an adorable little boy and a host of quirky characters...

The sun gentled the Texas sky awake with her show of pinks and oranges intermingled with the dark grays of dawn, promising another hot day. Storm was talking to Red Pelton, his foreman, and three ranch hands, Ben, Eduardo and Randy, giving them orders for various projects.



Suddenly the crew’s heads collectively swiveled to the left. Low whistles and snide remarks warmed the air already heating up for the day. Even Pistol panted louder than normal.


Storm narrowed his eyes. Rachel was jogging down the driveway wearing a tight red midriff-skimming top and black running shorts that should have been declared illegal. Damned if he could figure how a woman so short could have legs so long.


“Gentlemen, the woman you’re gawkin’ at is Sunny’s new nurse. I’ll expect you to keep your distance. She’s here to take care of my sister.” Their lewd responses did nothing to improve his mood.


Nor did hearing Jackson give a wolf whistle. Storm’s narrowed eyes ricocheted off Rachel to his best friend. Minutes earlier, he’d seen Jackson stumble out of the house, grimacing at the sunlight and holding a hand over each ear, probably in an attempt to keep them from falling off his hungover head. Now Jackson’s arms were extended across the roof of the cruiser, and he sported a mile-wide grin as he ogled Rachel, obviously enjoying the view.


Storm turned his irritated attentions back on his men. “Stop drooling over Rachel and get the hell to work. You’re burnin’ daylight.” At their raised eyebrows, he barked, “Go on, now. I’m in no mood to be fooled with today.”


Storm headed for Jackson and shot a dark look down the long driveway. He had tossed and turned most of the night thinking of Nurse Rachel and that lush body of hers. Those eyes, those lips, and that long, silky, curly hair had haunted him in his sleep. Strange part of it all was she wasn’t his normal type. He usually preferred tall, slender women—women more likely to do his bidding.


Rachel, the spirited little minx. He snorted. Imagine that spitfire shaking her fist under his nose, warning him to stay away. This was his ranch, by damn, and he’d do what he pleased. He’d never met a woman who both irritated and intrigued him from the instant he set eyes on her—until Rachel. He didn’t like it one bit.


Jackson turned at Storm’s approach. “Who the hell is that?”