AA/Sensual Romantic Love Story
Bookstrand
Mainstream Romance will
release
Cutie
and the Cowboy Trucker on September 12, 2012!
I'm ecstatic to
announce the upcoming release of my newest sweet-to-sensual romance, which is
also my first African-American love story, Cutie and the Cowboy Trucker.
Bookstrand Mainstream Romance has it scheduled for a September 12, 2012 release.
What action would you
take if you received an anonymous email that shook you to your core? An email that
threatened not only the family business, but also the futures of your children.
If you're Veronica Torres, you hit the road incognito, until you can level the
playing field for the fight to come.
Cutie and the Cowboy Trucker
PRE-ORDER NOW!
AVAILABLE: Wednesday, September 12th
Word count: 51,182
Heat: Sensual
Price: $3.50 $3.15 This
title is offered at a 10% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, September 19th.
Blurb:
Widow Veronica Torres needs something desperately—invisibility.
Escaping the clutches of her conniving brother-in-law and traveling incognito
in the RV she traded for online sets her on a collision course with her new
destiny, and a barreling fiery red 18-wheeler.
Trucker Mike Masterson steams at the close call. First, he
nearly sideswipes her. Now, she ends up at the same rest stop with mechanical
trouble. Maybe, she deserves to sweat it out in the June heat since she has the
attention span the size of a pea. But, the child in her company deserves
better. What else can Mike do besides cart them to his garage for repairs?
Will their burgeoning relationship ignite more fireworks than
the upcoming Fourth of July celebration? Or will the sparks of six nights and
seven days of summertime sizzle—fizzle to an end?
Chapter One
Veronica
Torres looked at the anonymous e-mail she’d received, printed out, and erased
from her hard drive over a week ago. She had
more than another week until the dreaded joint mediation that would determine
the action necessary to dig the family-owned construction company out of its
leadership debacle. She’d outlined what she believed was the underlying issue
in the private hour-long preliminary session with the mediator a couple of
weeks ago. As far as she was concerned, ousting Juan as chairman was the answer
to all of their problems. His hands were always somewhere they did not belong.
This time he had stuck his paws in the pot one time too many.
Ramon
had made allowances for his older brother’s mismanagement right up to the end.
Well, her husband was dead now. And she wasn’t taking that crap. She was just a
number cruncher, and not even for the family business. But, now that her
suspicions had been confirmed, she would let no one jeopardize the futures of
her children. Summertime was in full swing, which meant she had no problem
getting a temporary leave of absence from her job as a senior accountant for a
prominent Realtor corporation.
Veronica
took another look at the warning e-mail. It had alarmed her to the extent she’d
concocted a plan to prevent Juan’s aggravating behavior. How dare he brag to
someone that he had her in his back pocket? She wouldn’t be bullied into an
ill-conceived relationship for the sake of saving the company. He was a lunatic
to think she would keep her mouth shut and bail him out at his whim. And to try
to use her own son against her was the last straw.
The
front door alert sounded.
“Veronica?”
Veronica
rushed to fold and slip the paper into the pocket of her jeans just as her
mother-in-law’s heavy Spanish accent announced her presence. “I’m in Sam’s
room.”
What a
mistake it has been to build a house in his family’s compound, she thought. It
worked out okay during Ramon’s startling illness, but now, the constant visits
were a nuisance.
“You’re
not ready?”
“You
all go on without me, Maria.” Veronica was bailing on the weekly Wednesday
outing. “Sam’s not feeling too well. I don’t want to leave him with a sitter
tonight.” She propped herself up on the side of his bed. Just as Veronica knew
she would, Maria crossed the room to feel the sleeping child’s brow.
“He
doesn’t have a fever.”
A
little perturbed at the diagnosis, Veronica answered, “No, he doesn’t. It’s his
stomach.”
“Poor niño.”
The
sentiment expressed was genuine. Veronica had no doubt about that.
The
tone sounded again. “We’re going to be late for the dinner reservations.”
“Our
niño is sick.” Her mother-in-law’s comment provided their location.
Seconds
later, her brother-in-law’s sturdy frame filled the doorway. She might have
considered his dark features handsome except she had knowledge of his ruthless
alter ego. He had butted heads with Ramon on numerous occasions. Their
differences of opinion always stemmed from Juan’s arrogant business practices,
risk-taking management style, and his intolerance of the employees.
Veronica
had also had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of his first and last
attempt at manhandling her. The episode occurred when he dropped in, out of the
blue, several months after Ramon’s death with the intent of consoling her. He
hadn’t taken too kindly to her refusal of his attention and had subdued her in
a tight hold to keep her from moving away. She had had no other alternative but
to ram her knee into his crotch. She won her freedom with that move, and along
with that, his contempt. However, from time to time, his narcissism surmounted
his good sense.
Juan
peered at her, first, in his usual aloof manner. She didn’t have long to wait
before his look, and greeting, turned lusty. “Ronnie, you sexy thing. Beautiful
as usual.”
The
slime all over those words coated her skin. Veronica shuddered. “Juan, how many
times must I tell you? Nicknames are for children.”
He
marched into the room as if he owned the place. She prepared to fend off his
amorous attacks. Just as she’d expected, Juan made it his business to stamp
over and attempt a kiss. Maria saved the day.
“Juanito!
Behave!”
His
mouth eased into a sneer. “Let’s go.”
Veronica
permitted Maria’s soft touch against her cheek as she started out of the room.
“Have a great time.” She stayed well away from Juan, who hovered in the
doorway, his look of discontent aimed her way. At last, he vacated the
premises.
Veronica
sprinted to the front of her house after hearing the tone when they exited. She
was at the glass entryway in time to see several vehicles idling on her lane.
She pressed into the shadows of the foyer to watch. Maria and Juan were in
plain sight, along with the rest of the family entourage. Juan remained on the
outside after everyone else climbed into the cars. He appeared fixated on her
house until someone called his name. His departure set the stage for her
escape. It was now or never.
His
unwanted advances had pushed her over the edge.
Veronica
didn’t have a minute to lose as she raced around to make sure she had collected
the bare necessities for her departure. Angst pushed her faster. She dashed to
the car, where she slung things in total disregard to the fragile items. A turn
and burn back inside, and then she took the utmost care with the bundle she
lovingly laid on the backseat. Her son slumbered on.
Veronica
was behind the wheel in no time flat.
She
eased the car out of the garage without turning on the headlights. Instead of
taking the driveway, she swerved to the back of the lot to use the contractor’s
entrance. It had been chained and locked since the completion of the house a
few years ago. She opened her car door, without the interior light
illuminating. She hopped out at the gate, leaving the motor running. Veronica
had to combat the shakes that threatened to be her downfall. It was especially
hard to complete the task of unlocking the padlock in total darkness.
Ultimately,
success was hers tonight.
She
ran back to the car, drove it through to the other side of the gate, and darted
back to relock the entrance so no one would be the wiser. Her heart pounded in
her chest. The night was so quiet, she heard the blood rushing through her
veins. Veronica stole a look in the rearview mirror and noticed the compound’s
yellow lights minimizing into the background. She wrapped her sweaty palms
around the steering wheel in a death grip, indicating the tenseness of the
situation. She sucked in a rush of air when the front end slammed hard into the
embankment that signaled the end of the narrow cow trail through the pasture.
This jerked her forward against the locked seat belt, causing instant pain and
a concerned look at the backseat.
She
maneuvered quickly, and the vehicle swerved before skidding sideways. She
exhibited skill at the wheel by throwing the car into low gear in order to make
the transition from dirt to asphalt. It worked. The ominous dark road lay
ahead.
The
rear end whipped side to side to gain traction as the motor gunned when she
stomped the accelerator, careening the car down the deserted road. It traveled
quite a distance through the still night before bluish light, at last, hit the
black pavement. She imagined the glowing red orbs in back decreasing in size
into the inky night, and breathed a slight sigh.
That
was one mountainous challenge accomplished.
But
Veronica couldn’t relax. It was just too soon. A thin perspiration wet her
underarms even though cool air circulated in the interior of her car. Her jaw
hurt from clamping her teeth so tightly during the escape. Taut muscles caused
pain unlike any she’d felt before.
She
took another backward look, this time a long one to ensure there was no tail.
So far, so good. They had the highway all to themselves.
Although
risky, her next destination was the bus depot. She swung into the lot
determined to make the stop quick, fast, and in a hurry. The first obstacle to
that plan was her unresponsive sleeping child. Finally, left with no
alternative, she managed to wrangle his thin, rangy body into her arms. Off she
scurried into the Louisiana midnight air, wasting no time fretting over the
strange looks received from stragglers as she bore down on the depot entrance.
Hurried
steps now had her in front of a bank of lockers. The going wasn’t easy, but she
managed to fit the key into one of the higher lockers without losing her grip
on her son. She yanked, and two soft-sided satchels tumbled out of their hiding
place and hit the floor at her feet. Sheer determination raised both by the
straps and on up over her other shoulder. Saddled down, yet feeling
understandably successful, she hustled back to her car, tossed everything into
the trunk. She nestled her baby comfortably on the backseat with the utmost
care.
With
hurdle number two mastered, she was off again, driving like a bat out of hell
to her next stop.
The
number of upsetting scenarios jumbling Veronica’s brain helped tick down the
hours to her destination. She circled under the pink vapor lights in the
parking lot of the all-night supermarket to find her contacts. The clandestine
meeting symbolized the freedom she sought.
She
had finalized the prearranged encounter online. Recognizing her contacts was
easy. Trusting them at their word about the transaction she was about to embark
upon was the difficult part. The gigantic motor home stood out like a rose
surrounded by thickets. As she pulled abreast, the door swung open and a
middle-aged couple stepped out. They advanced on the driver’s side of
Veronica’s Jaguar, sporting pleased looks of admiration.
“The
picture didn’t do it justice, Mrs. Torres,” the woman crooned. “I love this
car.”
Veronica
exited to circle with them as they inspected every inch of her luxury sedan.
“I’m glad, Mrs. Spearman.” They wound up with their noses pressed against the
window glass. She offered an explanation at their quizzical glances while
allowing them access to the interior, the trunk, and the hood. “My son’s had a
long night.”
Veronica
led them over to the RV. It was her turn to tromp around the recreational
vehicle that would soon be hers. She rounded the back and came to a dead halt.
Well, she would have preferred a clean back end to such a suggestive slogan
displayed across the window. However, that was an “oh well” moment. Her
examination continued as she boarded to find the lush interior to her liking.
She could live like that for a while.
“Will
you start it up?”
Mr.
Spearman jumped to hand her the keys.
Sitting
and adjusting the seat, Veronica checked for advice first. “Is there anything I
should know prior to doing this?”
“It’s
no different than starting your car,” he reassured.
She
turned the key.
“Listen
to that,” Mr. Spearman said.
Veronica
listened for any malfunctioning sounds. “What?” She didn’t hear a thing that
set off any alarm bells in her head.
“It
purrs like a kitten.”
“Oh.”
She switched the engine off. “That’s a good thing.” She took the initiative and
exited, leading them back to her vehicle.
“Please
tell me we have a deal,” Mrs. Spearman pleaded. She looked at Veronica’s ride
with greedy eyes, as though it were a big hunk of chocolate cake.
“I’m
in agreement to make the trade if you are.” Actually, Veronica had to contain
her excitement for fear they’d change their minds.
“I’ll
get the title,” Mr. Spearman volunteered.
Veronica
did likewise. She also disturbed her slumbering child, who was able to walk
under his own power into the giant supercenter, where the twenty-four-hour
notary conducted the business exchange. All went smoothly as far as Veronica
was concerned. The happy couple took one last look around the inside of the RV
to remove any forgotten items.
The
turnover wasn’t complete until Veronica got a crash course on handling the RV
by taking several turns around the parking lot. Mr. Spearman was gracious
enough to give her instructions and tips for the road. She watched her vehicle
cruise away, flabbergasted she’d had the nerve to even consider finding a swap
on an Internet trading site.
* * * *
Wouldn’t
you know it, she thought, exasperated with the constant thumping noise coming
from the roof. A quick look over her head revealed the sunroof bubble
annoyingly dancing out of its fitting. Oh
well. She could do nothing about it now, traveling sixty-five miles per
hour along the Florida peninsula in the middle of nowhere. Her surreptitious
venture peeled back the layers of her life like an onion and exposed a gigantic
fault. Life had passed her by long enough since Ramon’s death. Living a little was what she’d been doing.
Thanks to the pain in her rear called Juan, it was now time to live a lot.
She
gazed lovingly at her primary reason for kicking her existence up a notch.
The alarming blasts of
quad-toned air horns brought her attention back to the road and her position
straddling the center line. Her panicked response was to jerk the wheel of the
unfamiliar RV, causing an overcorrection. The behemoth swerved recklessly
across the double lanes, dragging the air out of her lungs with a squeal. Continue reading.
Talk to me. I'd like to
hear from you.
Mickie Sherwood
~~Sweet, spicy romance – a heartbeat away~~
www.mickiesherwood.com/blog
