1 Night Stand
Frenchman’s Cowboy
by
W.M. Kirkland
After a fling with a professional polo player and
model on the set of a reality show, rodeo rider Dustin Gerke wants to let go of
his regrets and get back in the saddle—romantically and professionally.
Determined to wash the Frenchman out of his mind, he schedules a 1Night Stand…Unable to forget his affair with bronc rider Dustin, Pierre Anthony Archumbault III has cut back on his schedule to follow the rodeo circuit…and the cowboy he hasn’t gotten over. Signing up for a 1Night Stand he hopes for a fresh chance at a new romance…
What neither of these former lovers expected was each other, but they have one night to lasso their dreams…
Frenchman’s Cowboy
1NightStand
About the Author:
A
long time ago in a galaxy far away…oh wait, that’s a different saga. W.M.
Kirkland began writing over twenty years ago, and all the stories, no matter
the genre, featured handsome princes. Today, W.M. combines a love of history
and fantastical settings with strong men and bonds which cannot be broken.
Although these men keep W.M. at the computer most of the day, there’s still
time for enjoying the outdoors, great movies, and a good time.
Contact Details:
Website
http://www.wmkirkland.com
Email:
wm@wmkirkland.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/wmkirkland
(they
share the twitter account)
Enjoy
the following excerpt for Frenchman’s Cowboy:
The
door opened. His heart raced like it did during the scant seconds before the
chute opened and the bronc reared out. He held position, like holding his mark
out—no use getting caught at the gate—and waited for his date to enter.
Shock
sucked the air from his lungs. “Tony?”. The stunning blond man, whose perfect
hairstyle had to have come from a salon, strode into the room. He turned,
stared at the bed, and stopped.
“Shit,”
he whispered, and Dustin startled. Big words filled
Tony’s vocabulary, not the coarse, four-letter ones he’d just used. Had Tony
meant to be heard?
The
latch clicked shut, the overnight bag he’d been wheeling into the room
forgotten.
The
man stood there. His jaw didn’t drop, but clear surprise filled his expression.
Dustin hadn’t gotten to the top of his sport by being emotional. Where other
cowboys slammed the chutes or stomped their hats, he remained stoic, good ride
or bad. That talent served him well right then.
The
man who’d walked through the door was the last one he’d expect.
Pierre
Anthony Archumbault III, professional polo player, appeared as he did in one of
his many commercials for expensive cologne or fancy watches. The white shirt
tucked into a pair of expensive and tailored navy pants set off his smooth,
tanned skin. The shoes were Italian leather—he’d would eat his hat if they
weren’t—and the bag carried a label that said it couldn’t be bought for under
four figures.
He’d
been “Tony” the week they’d spent at an expensive resort, riding jousting
horses for a reality show. Tony had been knocked off on the first round; he’d
gone out in the second. He probably would have lasted longer, but a certain
sexy Frenchman kept invading his thoughts and his bed.
If he
thought he would get Tony off his mind by having a one-night stand with him….
He released a breath he hadn’t realized he held, knowing he wouldn’t get his
mind off of things tonight. And yet, maybe he needed exactly this. Get Tony one
more time, then he could move on. Yeah, that sounded good. He’d go with that
theory and, if anything changed, he’d figure it out in the morning. He’d treat
their encounter like a ride. Stay on, get to the clock, get a score, and head
out to the next town.
“Dustin?”
Tony asked in that accented, rich voice of his. Of course everything about the
man was rich. His daddy owned a vineyard famous the world over for its
expensive, exquisite wines. Dustin preferred his drinks with more hops and his
men closer to his social circle. Still, they’d spent one hell of a week
together. That meant tonight would be one hell of a night.
“You
think Madame has a sense of humor?” He drawled. Hell, he really needed that
second brew. Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood, leaving dirt on the
bedspread from when his boots were there earlier. He opened the mini fridge, grabbed
another bottle of fancy beer, and popped the top with the bottle opener on the
front of the fridge. “Isn’t this something?” He took a swig.
No comments:
Post a Comment