- Book info
- Sample
- Media
- Author updates
- Lists
Synopsis
Head back to Big Verde, Texas, where a homecoming queen and the bad-boy-turned-sheriff get a second chance at first love! Once Jessica Acosta left Big Verde, Texas, she didn't look back . . . until now, when a temporary homecoming brings her face-to-face with her high school sweetheart. Still devastatingly sexy, Casey Long sets off the same sparks that drew them together years ago. But Jess can't forget how he broke her heart . . . or the secret that came between them. Casey may have traded in his bad boy rep and big rodeo dreams for a sheriff's badge, but he's never gotten over Jess leaving. Having her back in town feels like a second chance, especially when it's clear that their chemistry is as strong as ever. But can Casey and Jess move beyond the pain of the past . . . to have the future they both deserve?
Release date: January 14, 2020
Publisher: Forever Yours
Print pages: 111
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
Reader buzz
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
Author updates
Close
It's All About That Cowboy
Carly Bloom
Chapter One
Jessica Acosta sat alone at Big Verde’s single stoplight, fingers gripping the steering wheel of the bright red Porsche, feeling conspicuous as hell. Her sensible crossover SUV was in the shop for scheduled maintenance, so yesterday she; her eleven-year-old sister, Hope; and her boss, Carmen, had driven all the way from Houston in Carmen’s tiny red attention whore of a car. As if Carmen, with her bright blue hair and multiple piercings and tattoos, needed it.
It had been cramped but fun. They’d jammed to all the girl jams, talked all the girl talk, and squealed all the girl squeals when they’d hit the 130 toll road outside of Seguin with its eighty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit.
Hope had loved it. Like Carmen, she was an adrenaline junkie. Jessica was more of a white-knuckled party pooper. But somebody had to be the grown-up of the trio, and it was usually her.
They’d checked into the Big Verde Motor Inn last night, only to check right back out. Carmen hadn’t liked the way the room smelled. Or the way it looked. She said the duvets had probably never been washed. She looked at a speck of something and insisted it was a bedbug.
Jessica hadn’t been able to detect the smell—or bedbugs—and she knew Carmen’s criticisms were only meant to land them in the nearby Village Château, a fancy hotel with a really great restaurant Carmen was dying to try.
Since Hope had asthma, allergies, and was getting over a cold, Jessica couldn’t risk the chance that Carmen’s delicate nose really had detected mold. So, now they had a suite at the Village Château, where Hope and Carmen were probably living it up in luxury this very moment.
It was just as well. It would be easier for Carmen to entertain Hope there while Jessica was at the funeral.
Jessica looked up and down Main Street. Big Verde was her hometown, but she might as well be a stranger here. She and her mom had left the morning after high school graduation, and she’d never been back.
Until now.
She was here for Mavis Long’s funeral and what she assumed to be a reading of her will. The lawyer hadn’t called it that, but what else could it be? If you could be at my office on Monday at 9:00, we have some items to discuss at the request of Miss Mavis.
It was no surprise to Jessica that Hope would be mentioned in the will. Mavis had promised, and she kept her promises. But if word of it got out—and it would—the folks in Big Verde would be extremely surprised. Perplexed. Titillated. Other words that indicated excitement over gossip fodder.
Whispers.
Scandal.
Drama.
Welcome Home!
Jessica shuddered and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
Her goal had been to get in and out of the funeral like a ninja, not to roll in like a drag queen firing a glitter bomb. Not that drag queens necessarily drove red Porsches, but both would draw about the same amount of attention in downtown Big Verde, Texas.
She slunk down in her seat. Change, light. Change.
The town hadn’t even had a stoplight when she’d grown up here. And since nobody had driven through the intersection during the approximately eleventy billion hours she’d been sitting at it, Big Verde still shouldn’t have one.
It had to be broken. And if it was, everybody in town knew it, and they were probably watching through their storefront windows to see how long it would take the stranger—her!—to figure it out.
She tapped the gas pedal in frustration, which resulted in inadvertent engine-revving. A sideways glance at the boutique called Cathy’s Closet confirmed she had drawn some attention. A face peeked through the green shoe polish letters on the window—FE FI FO FUM…KEEP THOSE BADGERS ON THE RUN!—to stare at her.
It was Friday, and the Big Verde Giants would apparently be battling the Smithtown Badgers at the football field later tonight. The band would play, the cheerleaders would cheer, and unless they’d hired a new coach since Jessica’s cheerleading days, the Giants would lose.
Cathy’s Closet was new. Cute clothes in the window. It had been a hardware store back in the day. A woman who was probably Cathy came out to sweep the pristine sidewalk and covertly stare at Jessica.
Jessica squinted back from behind her big sunglasses. Was that Cathy Schneider? Holy cow! It was! Cathy had hardly changed at all. Not only was she still rocking her seventh-grade hairdo, but she wore enough accessory items to sink a ship. Thankfully, Jessica’s dark sunglasses shielded her eyes from the glare of Cathy’s bangle bracelets.
Jessica nearly waved. She and Cathy had been friends once. But Cathy didn’t seem to recognize her now, and anyway, Jessica wasn’t here for reunions. She was here to pay her respects to Mavis Long quickly, quietly, and without fanfare.
In a bright red Porsche.
Jessica swallowed a lump the size of Texas. Cathy wasn’t going to be the only person from her past she’d see this weekend. In a town the size of Big Verde, literally everyone was someone from her past, but it was Casey Long who had her concerned. She’d prepared a little speech—Hey, Casey. How have you been? Remember how you took my virginity and tossed me aside like yesterday’s garbage?—but hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Who knew? Maybe Casey wasn’t even in Big Verde anymore. Maybe he’d hit it big in the rodeo world, just like he’d always dreamed, and was halfway across the country trying not to fall off a bull.
She imagined him being tossed across an arena by an angry black bull with flaring nostrils and cartoon smoke coming out of its ears. And then she realized she’d accidentally revved the Porsche’s engine again. Getting ready to charge.
She sighed. Even if Casey didn’t live in Big Verde anymore, he’d come home for his great-aunt’s funeral. He was a Long, so there would be no getting out of it.
This was ridiculous. How long could a woman sit at an intersection? There was nothing coming as far as the eye could see, so when Cathy turned her back, Jessica eased into the intersection, and then hurried across. The tires squealed just a little, because she wasn’t used to so much power.
And that’s when she heard the siren.
Her body broke out in a sweat. Her skin felt like it was being poked by a million needles. A rush of adrenaline and pure, white-hot panic overtook her.
Breathe. At worst, it’s a traffic ticket. Just breathe.
* * *
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Casey was going to be late for his great-aunt’s funeral. Some dumbass in a red Porsche had run the light just as he’d turned onto Main Street.
He’d have been happy to ignore it—pretend he hadn’t seen it—except he couldn’t because (a) you couldn’t pretend not to see a red Porsche in Big Verde, and (b) there was an audience. He had no choice but to pull the guy over and provide some much-needed excitement for Big Verde’s downtown business district.
Cathy Schneider held up a…broom? as he drove by, and Danny Moreno, the pharmacist at the Rite Aid, waved and smiled in approval when Casey turned the cruiser’s lights on.
The idiot pulled over in front of the Pump ’n’ Go, so at least Casey wouldn’t have to chase him. Four old ranchers, who’d probably been talking shit at the coffee bar, came out to the sidewalk, ready to watch the show.
Casey pulled up behind the Porsche. Big Verde was a small town of locals, but the pretty Texas Hill Country views and green, clear waters of the Rio Verde attracted tourists and city folks looking for country homes. Most of them were nice families who pumped much-needed revenue into the town during the summer. But a few of them were assholes.
He squinted at the Porsche and ran the plates.
It was registered to Carmen Foraccio. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He got out of his cruiser and waved at the sid. . .
Jessica Acosta sat alone at Big Verde’s single stoplight, fingers gripping the steering wheel of the bright red Porsche, feeling conspicuous as hell. Her sensible crossover SUV was in the shop for scheduled maintenance, so yesterday she; her eleven-year-old sister, Hope; and her boss, Carmen, had driven all the way from Houston in Carmen’s tiny red attention whore of a car. As if Carmen, with her bright blue hair and multiple piercings and tattoos, needed it.
It had been cramped but fun. They’d jammed to all the girl jams, talked all the girl talk, and squealed all the girl squeals when they’d hit the 130 toll road outside of Seguin with its eighty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit.
Hope had loved it. Like Carmen, she was an adrenaline junkie. Jessica was more of a white-knuckled party pooper. But somebody had to be the grown-up of the trio, and it was usually her.
They’d checked into the Big Verde Motor Inn last night, only to check right back out. Carmen hadn’t liked the way the room smelled. Or the way it looked. She said the duvets had probably never been washed. She looked at a speck of something and insisted it was a bedbug.
Jessica hadn’t been able to detect the smell—or bedbugs—and she knew Carmen’s criticisms were only meant to land them in the nearby Village Château, a fancy hotel with a really great restaurant Carmen was dying to try.
Since Hope had asthma, allergies, and was getting over a cold, Jessica couldn’t risk the chance that Carmen’s delicate nose really had detected mold. So, now they had a suite at the Village Château, where Hope and Carmen were probably living it up in luxury this very moment.
It was just as well. It would be easier for Carmen to entertain Hope there while Jessica was at the funeral.
Jessica looked up and down Main Street. Big Verde was her hometown, but she might as well be a stranger here. She and her mom had left the morning after high school graduation, and she’d never been back.
Until now.
She was here for Mavis Long’s funeral and what she assumed to be a reading of her will. The lawyer hadn’t called it that, but what else could it be? If you could be at my office on Monday at 9:00, we have some items to discuss at the request of Miss Mavis.
It was no surprise to Jessica that Hope would be mentioned in the will. Mavis had promised, and she kept her promises. But if word of it got out—and it would—the folks in Big Verde would be extremely surprised. Perplexed. Titillated. Other words that indicated excitement over gossip fodder.
Whispers.
Scandal.
Drama.
Welcome Home!
Jessica shuddered and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
Her goal had been to get in and out of the funeral like a ninja, not to roll in like a drag queen firing a glitter bomb. Not that drag queens necessarily drove red Porsches, but both would draw about the same amount of attention in downtown Big Verde, Texas.
She slunk down in her seat. Change, light. Change.
The town hadn’t even had a stoplight when she’d grown up here. And since nobody had driven through the intersection during the approximately eleventy billion hours she’d been sitting at it, Big Verde still shouldn’t have one.
It had to be broken. And if it was, everybody in town knew it, and they were probably watching through their storefront windows to see how long it would take the stranger—her!—to figure it out.
She tapped the gas pedal in frustration, which resulted in inadvertent engine-revving. A sideways glance at the boutique called Cathy’s Closet confirmed she had drawn some attention. A face peeked through the green shoe polish letters on the window—FE FI FO FUM…KEEP THOSE BADGERS ON THE RUN!—to stare at her.
It was Friday, and the Big Verde Giants would apparently be battling the Smithtown Badgers at the football field later tonight. The band would play, the cheerleaders would cheer, and unless they’d hired a new coach since Jessica’s cheerleading days, the Giants would lose.
Cathy’s Closet was new. Cute clothes in the window. It had been a hardware store back in the day. A woman who was probably Cathy came out to sweep the pristine sidewalk and covertly stare at Jessica.
Jessica squinted back from behind her big sunglasses. Was that Cathy Schneider? Holy cow! It was! Cathy had hardly changed at all. Not only was she still rocking her seventh-grade hairdo, but she wore enough accessory items to sink a ship. Thankfully, Jessica’s dark sunglasses shielded her eyes from the glare of Cathy’s bangle bracelets.
Jessica nearly waved. She and Cathy had been friends once. But Cathy didn’t seem to recognize her now, and anyway, Jessica wasn’t here for reunions. She was here to pay her respects to Mavis Long quickly, quietly, and without fanfare.
In a bright red Porsche.
Jessica swallowed a lump the size of Texas. Cathy wasn’t going to be the only person from her past she’d see this weekend. In a town the size of Big Verde, literally everyone was someone from her past, but it was Casey Long who had her concerned. She’d prepared a little speech—Hey, Casey. How have you been? Remember how you took my virginity and tossed me aside like yesterday’s garbage?—but hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Who knew? Maybe Casey wasn’t even in Big Verde anymore. Maybe he’d hit it big in the rodeo world, just like he’d always dreamed, and was halfway across the country trying not to fall off a bull.
She imagined him being tossed across an arena by an angry black bull with flaring nostrils and cartoon smoke coming out of its ears. And then she realized she’d accidentally revved the Porsche’s engine again. Getting ready to charge.
She sighed. Even if Casey didn’t live in Big Verde anymore, he’d come home for his great-aunt’s funeral. He was a Long, so there would be no getting out of it.
This was ridiculous. How long could a woman sit at an intersection? There was nothing coming as far as the eye could see, so when Cathy turned her back, Jessica eased into the intersection, and then hurried across. The tires squealed just a little, because she wasn’t used to so much power.
And that’s when she heard the siren.
Her body broke out in a sweat. Her skin felt like it was being poked by a million needles. A rush of adrenaline and pure, white-hot panic overtook her.
Breathe. At worst, it’s a traffic ticket. Just breathe.
* * *
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Casey was going to be late for his great-aunt’s funeral. Some dumbass in a red Porsche had run the light just as he’d turned onto Main Street.
He’d have been happy to ignore it—pretend he hadn’t seen it—except he couldn’t because (a) you couldn’t pretend not to see a red Porsche in Big Verde, and (b) there was an audience. He had no choice but to pull the guy over and provide some much-needed excitement for Big Verde’s downtown business district.
Cathy Schneider held up a…broom? as he drove by, and Danny Moreno, the pharmacist at the Rite Aid, waved and smiled in approval when Casey turned the cruiser’s lights on.
The idiot pulled over in front of the Pump ’n’ Go, so at least Casey wouldn’t have to chase him. Four old ranchers, who’d probably been talking shit at the coffee bar, came out to the sidewalk, ready to watch the show.
Casey pulled up behind the Porsche. Big Verde was a small town of locals, but the pretty Texas Hill Country views and green, clear waters of the Rio Verde attracted tourists and city folks looking for country homes. Most of them were nice families who pumped much-needed revenue into the town during the summer. But a few of them were assholes.
He squinted at the Porsche and ran the plates.
It was registered to Carmen Foraccio. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He got out of his cruiser and waved at the sid. . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
