Three short, sexy cowboy romances from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Randi Alexander. These three male/female (M/F) erotic romances give you a lovely taste of what makes Randi’s books so special. She mixes tender romance with a healthy dose of wild, passionate lovin’. Heat up your summer…any time of the year with Banging the Cowboy, Lightning Heat, and Skin Deep
Banging the Cowboy
Every Saturday for a year, Annie Paris has lusted after Rafe McCord from behind her drumset on stage at the honky tonk. The Big Cowboy, they call him, and rumors say he likes it rough in the bedroom. The thought of banging him makes Annie’s body tingle and heat.
But Rafe is a one-night-stand kind of guy, and Annie couldn’t handle seeing him every Saturday, knowing she’d already had her one night with him. That there’d be no more.
Tonight, something’s different. Rafe doesn’t leave with a woman. And he’s been staring at Annie since he came in the door. At closing time, he sets his longneck on the bar, and swaggers toward her, his gaze locked on hers, his smile pure sexual invitation. Annie’s slit contracts and her nipples harden. Oh, God, if he asks her to his house for a rough ride on his big, hard cock, where would she find the strength to say “no”?
When Toni Keeps takes her horse for a ride on his property, Cash Masterson worries as an unexpected storm races down on the ranch off of the Rocky Mountains. Cash has grown close to Toni since the night she appeared bruised and limping, wanting to board her horse in his barn. But Toni’d been through a lot in her life, and Cash isn’t going to be one of those guys who hits on her because she’s beautiful, sweet, and sexy as sin.
Toni has waited a year for her chance, and when she arrives back at Cash’s ranch wet and cold, she gladly accepts his offer to come into the house and dry off. Are her feelings toward the big, handsome rancher just a one-way thing? Or can she convince the cautious cowboy to give her a chance?
Layne Starwood drives all the way from Denver to a barely-there town in rural Colorado to drink away her self-pity in a watering hole aptly-named The Wrong Turn Bar. Taking a seat near one of the three customers, she orders a beer and begins her mission. Starting up a conversation with the quiet cowboy hiding in the shadow of his Stetson, she unburdens her sad story on him then is shocked to learn of his tragic history.
The scar on Kyle’s face mirrors the ache in his heart, and after a long evening of talking, Layne realizes the man is as modest and kind as he is funny. She lets herself indulge in a touch, a kiss, and a wild, hot hour in his arms. Can she convince him to spend the rest of the weekend with her, or are his scars too deep for her to try to heal?
Banging the Cowboy
Annie Paris watched him from the stage, stealing peeks from behind the concealment of her cymbals as she banged out the rhythm to a Brad Paisley song.
Rafe McCord. God, he was big. The Big Cowboy, women called him. One lucky girl was tight in his arms right now, two-stepping around the scarred wooden dance floor.
Almost missing her cue, Annie slid into a four-measure drum solo. When she finished, her cousin Shawn, the lead guitarist/singer, winked at her and put his lips close to his microphone. “On percussion, Annie Paris.” Polite applause sounded here and there around the room, sounding like the first pellets of a hailstorm.
She twirled one drumstick over her head and smiled a thank you, then went right back into the groove. After introducing the rest of the band, Shawn played the riff that meant break time. “We’re gonna take a fifteen minute pause for the cause, folks. Stick around for the last set.”
Annie stood and stretched, scanning the crowd. Her glance caught on one stare from the bar. Rafe. Looking at her? A jingle of desire vibrated through her, making her heart thud as she gazed back into dark eyes that were shaded by a black Stetson.
He was tall, but the name “big” came from his muscles—broad shoulders and massive arms—tonight in a light plaid western-cut shirt that he probably had to buy from a bodybuilders’ store.
He raised his longneck in salute, which got things burning even hotter down low in her belly, deep in her pussy. She looked away. It was one thing to crush on a sexy, magnificent cowboy like Rafe, but quite another to act on it.
Annie grabbed her water glass and headed to the bar for a refill, but the thirsty crowd stood three-deep. The only opening she saw was the server’s station, right where Rafe had planted himself in his usual place to the left of it.
Her steps slowed as she caught his gaze. Had he been watching her the whole time? Pasting on a smile, she stepped up to the open spot. “Hey, Rafe.” They’d talked a number of times in the last year when her band played the second weekend of every month.
The sexual tension had always been thick between them, but tonight, it was downright palpable, setting her knees to wobbling and her core to quivering.
“Evenin’ Miss Annie.” His drawl poured thick as he touched the brim of his hat. That smoky voice sent heat to places between her thighs that had no business responding to him. She didn’t look down, but she knew her tingling nipples were hard and jutting, obvious for everyone to see through her lacy bra and pink silk tank top. Obvious for Rafe to see.
As the bartender refilled her glass with ice water, Annie gave in to temptation and looked at Rafe, letting herself drift away under the spell of his beautiful, dark brown eyes. Nine months ago she’d been sure she was falling in love with him, after having flirted a dozen or so times. She’d been confused as to why he’d never asked her out.
Then one night she found out why. In the ladies’ room.