I have a new Lone Star Lovers book out centered around the naughty Logan twins. Below is a snippet, but I’m also offering a free download to one lucky winner of her choice from among books 1-5 of the series. Click on Lone Star if you want to take a look! I’ll draw the winner’s name tomorrow and post it in the comments!
It’s double the trouble when two ornery cowboys come courtin’, Texas-style…
Sam Logan’s hell-raising twin sons have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. All of it earned. When it becomes clear those two troublemakers won’t settle down without another nudge—make that a boot to their butts—Sam reissues his challenge. Find a wife.
There’s only one woman who’s ever held Mace and Jason Logan’s attention for more than one night. Molly Pritchet, their former teacher. She’s been too worried about a pesky morals clause to let them close, but they’re older now and ready to prove to her that some rules are meant to be broken.
Molly thought her path was clear: always a teacher, never a mother or a wife. Until she finds those two Logan “boys” in her backyard, all grown up and digging around in her business. More accurately, starting her koi pond for her without asking. Well, it’s about time someone taught the Logan twins some manners.
A little mud, a lot of yearnings she thought she’d suppressed, and Molly realizes she’s the one being schooled in the art ofindulging in forbidden desires.
Warnings: Two hot-as-sin twins romance their former high school teacher. Things are bound to get down and dirty quick as two bad boys tag team to sweep one curvy, sexy woman off her feet.
As she adjusted her burden in her arms again, Molly Pritchet wished she’d driven. She was hot, starting to sweat, and the muscles in her arms were beginning to burn with the weight of her box of personal items she’d emptied from her desk. Earlier, traces of roses and honeysuckle scenting the warm air had drawn her from her house, enticing her to get ready to embrace the last day of school and the start of her plans for a summer of blessed solitude, free of responsibility. That morning, she hadn’t wanted to think about anything but the pretty day, the flowers she had purchased to set into their beds and the small, decorative pond she wanted to install in her backyard.
Besides, walking to and from the little high school was the only real exercise she ever got.
With every passing year, she fought a little harder to keep padding from settling on her rear and upper thighs. So she walked, getting more of a workout than she’d planned, but enjoying the sounds of lawnmowers growling, birds chirping and children playing.
Lord, she loved the sounds of children. Not something that had changed over the eight years she’d been teaching. And it was a true joy to meet up with graduates who remembered her and stopped by to tell her about their lives, and how she’d touched them.
She might never have her own, but there were plenty of children she’d helped raise in her own limited capacity.
The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk—heavy tread, a little hollow—men’s booted heels, came from behind her, and she edged to the side to let whomever was approaching pass.
However, the steps slowed, and before she knew it, she had a man at each elbow.
Her breath caught when she recognized them. “Mason, Jason,” she said, hoping they’d take her reddening cheeks for exertion, not delight. She’d always had the most inappropriate thoughts where these two were concerned.
Some things never changed. They both looked so handsome and tall—shaggy blond hair curling beneath the brims of their straw cowboy hats, matching blue work shirts—nicely ironed—and dark Wranglers that molded to powerful thighs. The only notable difference in their appearance was their boots. Mace Logan’s boots were saddle-brown leather while Jason’s were black. She didn’t need visual clues to keep the two of them straight. Unlike most folks in Two Mule, she’d always been able to tell them apart. Mace had a lazy smile that invited a woman to linger. Jason was a tad sharper, with a keen glance that had burned right through more than one woman’s defenses, or so she’d heard.
Good Lord, she’d just checked them out, and from Mace’s slow grin and Jason’s razor gaze, they both knew it.
Two sets of blue eyes glinted with humor.
“Howdy, Miz Pritchet,” Jason said, his smile wide, perfect white teeth gleaming.
Mace cleared his throat, drawing her attention. Before she had a chance to sink into his brilliant blues, he reached out his arms. “Let me take that box for you.”
“No need,” she said, wheezing a bit because she couldn’t manage a deep breath with both of them towering over her. “I need the exercise. Home’s not far.” She knew her voice was a little shrill, but she couldn’t help it. She needed them gone before her cheeks heated until they were as purple as sugar beets and she really started to sweat.
The Logan boys, these particular two, were trouble with a capital T. Any sensible woman would steer well clear of them. A teacher with a pesky morals clause in her contract had even more to worry about.
“I swear I can manage this box on my own. Always have.”
Mace gave her a crooked smile. “Didn’t say you couldn’t manage it on your own, ma’am. But why deprive us of a chance to do a good deed?”
Stiffening her spine, she gave him her best “teachery” steel-eyed glance. “You’re here to do a good deed? Why do I suddenly feel like an old lady a Boy Scout’s about to help cross the road?”
“Oh, you’re not old, Miz Pritchet, and we’re not Boy Scouts,” Jason piped in, probably to get her flustered because she had to look left and right to hold this conversation. Her foot stumbled on a rock and she fell forward.
Hands reached to grab the box, another slipped around her back.
Breathless and embarrassed, she let go and tried to straighten away from a hot palm that branded her lower back.
Jason bent toward her while Mace juggled the box. “I know you’re a little flustered, but if you’d quit fightin’ us, this’d be over so much quicker,” Jason whispered then gave her a wink.
Molly gulped, cheeks aflame, but gave a terse nod and lifted her chin. “Your hand is no longer needed,” she said, her voice clipped.
“Fair enough,” he said with a wicked waggle of his eyebrows, slowly sliding his hot palm away.
Pushing her dark-rimmed glasses up her nose, she backed up one pace, then whirled on her heel and stepped out again, leaving both men to follow in her wake. “Well, seeing as how you were both so insistent…” she threw over her shoulder, “…don’t dawdle!”