I’m hard at work writing Hot in the Saddle for the 12 Alarm Cowboy Boxed Set. I’m so thrilled to be part of this anthology of brand new stories from 12 hot cowboy authors. You can order your copy today for only $.99
Book Blurb: Hot in the Saddle by Randi Alexander
Horse wrangler and off-duty firefighter Treven Arnett is the person closest to Delta Pennington’s racecar when it bursts into flames and spins onto the infield. Without a thought for his own safety, Treven reaches in and releases her, pulling her out and to safety seconds before her stock car explodes. Then he feels the pain.
Delta looks up into the eyes of a cowboy who risked his life to save her, but as his eyes cloud over, she notices his burns. She insists on staying and working his small horse ranch until he’s recovered, but the sexy cowboy makes it impossible for her to keep away from his hot loving. Serious thoughts of relocating to this quiet part of Texas surprise Delta as Treven urges her to give their future a shot.
When Treven learns that Delta has ulterior motives for her visit to his town, he’s angry enough to put her on a plane to anywhere, as long as it’s far away from him. But someone else is just as enraged with Delta’s plans; someone who could have possibly tampered with her racecar. Does Treven care enough for Delta to risk his life again for her?
Excerpt of Hot in the Saddle by Randi Alexander
Treven Arnett pulled his white straw cowboy hat down tighter on his head as a breeze blew across the infield of Wild Oak Speedway. The whine of the super stock cars engines surrounded them, jockeying for lead as the race trailed into its final laps. Dirt track racing had become his favorite live sport now that this part of Texas had installed its very own oval.
He’d volunteered to serve as on the firefighting crew today, and had put in his hours during the morning race. Despite all the work he needed to get done at his ranch, here he sat, sipping a beer with another off-duty firefighter watching the end of the race.
“One more, buddy?” Treven’s friend Clint reached into his cooler and pulled out a can of brew, water dripping from both the beer and Clint’s hand.
Treven could almost taste the ice cold pilsner slipping down his throat, but he shook his head. He needed to get home and get some work done. “Thanks, but I should get moving. The horses don’t breed themselves.”
Clint laughed as he opened the beer then ran his wet fingers through his short blond hair. “Not in this day and age, they don’t.”
The dozen thoroughbreds Treven owned and/or stabled on his property three miles away kept him busy and in property-tax and vet-bill money, but he had to work his ass off twelve to sixteen hours a day, most days.
“Ms. Delta Pennington…” The announcer’s voice blared from the speakers. “In the number thirteen car has taken third place from Randy Vinter, and is moving up fast to challenge Beau Trudeaux for second.”
Treven had gotten a peek at the lovely Ms. Delta as she’d inspected her car before the race. With her sunglasses on, he couldn’t see her trademark eyes, but her brown hair touched her shoulders in thick layers, and those sexy bangs blew around her forehead. She’d looked at him for long moments, nodded, then moved on.
Delta being the first woman to compete on this new track, Treven hoped she’d take first, or at least one of the top positions. He liked that she went after her passion in a male-centered world like stock car racing.
Treven stood. “I’m gonna make my way out.” He needed to cross the oval to get to the parking lot where emergency responders left their vehicles. “See you next weekend.”
“Next weekend, not before.” Clint responded, his blue eyes going serious.
Treven got moving, his boots kicking up dust as he strode across the newly-planted grass. The Wild Oak volunteer firefighters kept good karma coming their way by never admitting there might be another chance to see each other—like a fire at a local home or business.
The racecars circled the track for the second-from-last lap. As he walked, Treven rolled down the sleeves on his blue denim shirt and buttoned them, figuring he’d stop and pick up a few dozen bales of hay on his way home.
Nearing the oval, he slowed and waited, not stupid enough to cross the track until the race was over.
“Oh, lordie, look at that!” The announcer’s voice squeaked.
Treven swiveled his head as a car spun into the infield about fifty yards from him. He prepared to bolt one way or the other, but the dark blue car slid to a stop.
“Fuck!” He ran toward it as flames shot out the side windows.
Screams came from the stands and the infield.
“Aw, folks.” The announcer shouted. “That’s Delta Pennington’s car.”
Sirens blared and in his peripheral vision, Treven saw people running toward him, but no one was near enough to help.
He was on his own.
He skidded around the front of the vehicle, ran to the driver’s window, and heard choking coming from inside.
She was still alive, but engulfed in flames.
He didn’t have gloves with him, the ones he’d be using for hay later. Nothing to cover his bare hands or his face.
Taking a deep breath, he reached inside the car anyway.
Hot, blistering flames—his hands would be a mess, but he could do this.
Heat licked at his face, singing the brim of his straw hat as his fingers found the five-point harness release and pushed.
Nothing. Had it melted shut?
No, wait, this was a latch variety. He felt for the piece of webbing that would release it, tugged on it…
A click sounded and she was free.
Treven grabbed the shoulders of her jumpsuit and pulled. She was lighter than he’d imagined. At just a few inches shorter than his five-foot ten inches, she’d been a strong-looking woman when he’d seen her earlier in her jumpsuit. The one that curved over her nice behind and…
He pulled his thoughts back from wherever the hell they’d just gone and focused tugging her out the window, into his arms, and keeping her limp body from hitting the ground.
Her helmet banged against his cheek as he pulled her higher against his chest, spun, and ran as fast as he could. That gas tank could go any second. Why hadn’t it already? And why was the interior of the car on fire when the tank hadn’t gone up? And why hadn’t he at least paused before he’d rushed in to save her to consider that he could be blown to his eternal reward?
The firetruck reached the car, and half the firefighters that jumped off came running his way with their med bags.
What was left of his hat blew away and Treven sunk to the ground, his knees shaking, his breath pumping as he eased Ms. Delta onto the seedling grass of the infield.
With a jerk, her body came to life. She coughed and hauled off her helmet, gasping in air and hacking it back out. “What…” More coughing as she removed her fireproof hood. “What happened?”
She looked up at Treven.
What they said was true. She had one green eye and one blue eye. “You’re safe.” He reached to take her pulse, but didn’t recognize the red, blistered skin on his… Then the pain hit.
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