And the Winners Are…

Remember last time we were here when we had the whole “boxers or briefs?” question.

40437297 - conceptual image of muscular fit manager

Boxers or Briefs? Leave a comment and let me know. I’ll … announce January 20th  today. Sorry, I forgot to remind myself. Nevertheless, here we are and now we have a winner(s).

Shirley Long I hope you enjoy your print copy of Cowboy Burn. Contact me with your snail mail address so I can send.

Cheryl Lemon, Corriea, Elf, alisa8, Elaine  Swinney, and Denise Schenk, you’ve each won a digital copy of Cowboy Burn. I’ll send as soon as you let me know your email address. Much thanks all for stopping by and leaving a comment.


And now for now, well not now, but tomorrow, lol.

Happy Valentines Day, everyone. Wishing you flowers, a big box of chocolates, and love from that special person in your life.

I’m sharing a scene from River’s Edge  my first Unlikely Gentlemen title. I always love my leading men, but Edge Grayson puts a smile on my face every time. He’s experiencing a whole new crop of admirers with his recent re-release in the First Ride Cowboy Collection.

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The air whispered through willow branches, lightly caressing her eyelids and River imagined it to be the gentle brush of a lover’s lips.

Her mouth curved into a smile at the whimsical notion. Sighing, she set aside that unproductive thought, forcing her attention outward to the task ahead. 

All right, the fence it will be. Definitely shades of silver and light gray with patches of charcoal almost black. In her mind she selected the colors she’d use to create the focal point when today’s sketch grew into a panoramic landscape.

Suddenly a horse approached and the rider reined to a halt on the other side of the water.

Tipping his hat back, he leaned on his pommel as he inspected the broken down fence separating River’s land from the neighbor’s.

His scrutiny seemed beyond casual interest, making her feel more than a little embarrassed at the rotting posts and fallen rails.

Even though the adjacent property had been abandoned, the Prescotts should have maintained the boundary line. Truthfully, River was at fault.

Having found the quaintly picturesque setting useful, she’d asked Amos to leave this section of fence in a state of disrepair.

She brushed aside that irritating ranch concern, and seized the muse of the moment, focusing on the cowboy.

He was a stranger and she had no reason to alert him to her presence. Before he watered his horse and left, she hastily sketched a quick image for later transfer to paint and canvas.

It startled her when, instead of riding away, he dismounted and retrieved tools from his saddlebags. Without wasting any time, he set to work fixing the broken-down fence separating them as River immortalized muscle, sweat and brawn in light pencil strokes.

When he aimed his hammer wrong, landing a solid blow to thumb instead of nail, he grunted. River stifled an echoing groan as tension coiled in her belly, responding to the guttural, primitive sound.

By midmorning, the earlier breeze had stilled and the relentless sun poured from a cloudless sky, raising the day’s temperature to scorching hot.

Inside her willow retreat, perspiration trickled from River’s forehead to her nose and dropped in a splat on her sketchpad.

Pursing her lips impatiently, she sent a stream of air upward, attempting to move the damp curls plastered to her forehead.

Abruptly, the cessation of noise below pulled her gaze back to the cowboy. He’d stopped hammering and, as she watched, he pulled his shirt over his head, wiped his face with it before dropping it on the ground.

Wishing she could discard the bodice of her riding habit in a similar manner, River settled for swiping the crumpled and damp washcloth across her face.

Prodded by earthy desire rather than artistic intent, she studied him. She had, of course, seen partially clothed male torsos before.

But not often and never in the last five years. Even from the distance of the willow tree, his masculine beauty made her insides quiver but her pragmatic nature, wince.

Has he no sense? She gloried in enjoying the sight of his exposed skin. But as the sun crept higher in the sky, his tan muscles became flaming red and her indecorous ogling gave way to concern.

By the time the sun reached overhead, she regretted her initial silence for two reasons. First, she wanted to caution the fool that his commune with nature would be sorely regretted tonight.

Much as she didn’t want her cowboy Adonis to cover an inch of skin, he needed to protect himself from the merciless rays.

Decidedly more pressing, her bladder warned that shortly she would be forced to climb from her perch, revealing her presence. As she considered methods of getting away unseen, he stopped work. 

Thank God. Tensely, she watched him gather his shirt, hanging it around his neck like a towel while putting his equipment in his saddlebags. But, instead of leaving, he led his horse to the lopping gate and came through.

His actions were innocuous enough. He scratched his horse’s muzzle affectionately, murmuring words she couldn’t hear. 

Surprising her, he mounted and rode into the river, splashing water as he crossed to her side.

He sat on his mount just below the branch she occupied, close enough for her to see details of his features she’d only guessed at before—lined forehead, bushy brows, strong jaw hidden beneath dark whiskers, bump that marred an otherwise perfectly formed nose. 

He tilted his head, drawing a deep breath as if inhaling the perfume of morning.

“Lilacs,” he murmured, his approval delivered in a gravelly voice. His gaze skated over the clearing as if seeking the flowers. 

River hastily balled her wash cloth in her hand, trying to suppress the aroma of lilac as she peeked at the man so close she could count the sun lines radiating from the corners of his eyes.

His glance turned back to his morning’s accomplishment and his expression changed to a depreciating, lop-sided grin.

 “Take a long time at the rate we’re working,” he murmured.

His horse cocked his ears, snorting as if agreeing and the cowboy patted the beast’s withers in silent communication with the animal. 

River’s heart unexpectedly jumped in response to the smile, her mouth automatically mirroring the curve of his lips. Viewing the man’s easy manner while he thought himself unobserved, her wariness abated.

Before she could anticipate his intentions or call out a warning of her presence, he dismounted, ground-tied his horse, and dropped the shirt once again.

Pope was right. Hope springs eternal. The famous poet’s admonition flitted across her mind as she waited breathlessly for more possible revelations. The cowboy didn’t disappoint.

Swiftly, he unbuckled his gunbelt and removed the chaps he wore over his denims. Piece by piece he shed the rest of his clothes, discarding them all before reaching into his saddlebag and pulling out a sliver of soap and a drying cloth. 

Grasping her pencil, River leaned forward, almost falling from her hiding spot as she prepared to draw her first live nude subject.

She had studied Hellenic art, copying pictures of naked gods and men.

Hermes of Atalante, the Roman statue by Lysippus, remained her favorite. But the sun-kissed figure below eclipsed the one-dimensional depictions in her books.

Standing thigh deep with his back turned toward her and his shoulder muscles rippling, the cowboy reached low, scooping water to wet his face and chest.

The fiery red color of his shoulders and back contrasted with the pale skin on his rump and thighs. He bent to cup water and rinsed white soap from the dark tufts of hair sprouting from his armpits.

River stared at the taut muscles in his buttocks, a jagged scar ruining the contour of the left cheek. 

And then he turned around, displaying a form more magnificent than any pictures of sculpted perfections she’d studied. Her gaze roved across his body, greedily examining and cataloging the earthy reality.

He rubbed soap over his chest, swirling white lather around his nubs, pausing to squeeze the tips between finger and thumb. Rough laughter escaped him as his manhood bobbled in response.

River’s left hand lifted of its own accord, cupping the material covering her bosom. Though only plump in wishful dreams, she secretly considered the dusty areolas circling the sensitive tips pretty.

 She imagined him caressing her flesh, pinching her nipples as he had his own and a surge of need clawed at her belly.

She bit her bottom lip, concentrating as she detailed the heavy shoulder muscles, the sprinkling of dark chest hair, and the sharp hipbones framing the flat belly. Not even his navel escaped her feathered strokes that mimicked the fine hairs that circled it before arrowing toward his groin.

As she watched, the sun’s rays highlighted a line of water that trickled down from shoulder to chest and rolled over his flat stomach.

Glistening drops collected in the dark thatch surrounding his manhood. His penis appeared more robust than the hairless groins of the marble statues she’d studied in her books.

River swallowed, trying to quell her breathless fascination with his maleness. As though her scrutiny had caused the action, he fisted his hand around his shaft and stoked the flesh between his legs until it became engorged.

She wasn’t prepared and the erotic motion caught her unawares. The pencil she gripped snapped into two parts as a flood of heat scalded her insides. She stifled a moan and forced her gaze away from the intimate act and back to the harsh planes of his face.

Almost casually, he rinsed, walked out of the water to his pile of clothes, picked up his gun, and pointed it at the approximate place where she crouched in the tree. 

“Come down from there now or I’ll start shooting.”

River Prescott has everything she’s ever wanted – except perhaps a man. The unconventional ranch owning artist is very certain she doesn’t want a husband. But sometimes she can’t help wishing for a lover; especially after her new neighbor trespasses and she gets a full-frontal view of his assets.

Edge Grayson moves onto the rundown spread he’s inherited, expecting to stay aloof from nearby town business. But between local artist, River Prescott’s determination to seduce him and protecting her from a killer on the prowl, the ex-gunslinger is finding respectability a lot more dangerous than his former life of sin.

First Ride Cowboy Collection FEATURING:

Forget Me Knot by Lori King~ Will her vacation into the heart of cattle country turn out to be a mistake?

Cowboy Crazy by Em Petrova~Five brides for five brothers: at least that’s the deal the Daltons have struck with their boys. Each son must marry in order to inherit a piece of the ranch they love so much.

Watching Fireflies by Jaycee Ford~A cowboy who knew nothing of love. A city girl who wishes she didn’t.

Sweet As Candy by Sidda Lee Rain ~She may be the softness to smooth his rough edges. That is…if he can convince her to give an ol’ rodeo bum a chance.

Lazarus by Beth Williamson ~Being a Graham isn’t easy, and it’s about to get a lot harder for one stubborn lawman and the woman who still owns his heart.

The Heartsong Cowboy by Melissa Keir ~Can two people, one horse and the power of love cure a little girl?

Gimme Some Sugar by Stephanie Berget ~She’s is a genius with cupcakes and croissants. He needs a ranch cook to whip up beef, beans and bacon. Love never tasted so good.

Her Fated Cowboy by Donna Michaels ~Thrown back into the path of her first love, she finds hers is not the only heart fate has damaged.

Cowboy Proud by D’Ann Lindun ~She left town to chase her dreams; he stayed and ignored his. Can they find love again?

Davis: Letters of Fate by Paty Jager ~A marriage of convenience ignites into a steamy romance and brings two strong wills together.

Make Mine a Cowboy by Sandy Lea Sullivan ~She writes fantasy cowboys for a living…but she never expected to find her own on the back roads of Hill Country, Texas.

Chocolate Cowboy by Kirsten Lynn ~Returning to Wyoming two things surprised GySgt Jared Worrell: becoming the town chocolatier and Lucy Thomas. Coming home never tasted so sweet.

Montana Bachelor by Hildie McQueen ~Rich Bachelor seeks Single Female who won’t mind complications of elite society, a suspicious father and an evil ex-girlfriend.

Cowboys Never Fold by Lexi Post ~A cowboy honors a promise by working at a nudist resort but to win the sexy owner’s heart, he must bare more than his soul.

Under Pressure by Rhonda Lee Carver ~The Stone sisters know their way with a gun, rope, three-inch heels, and a cowboy’s heart.

Jake: Men of Clifton by Susan Fisher Davis ~He can tame the wildest stallion, but can he tame a stubborn redhead that wants nothing to do with him?

The Real McCoy by Sabrina York ~She mistakes him for a stripper…he is happy to comply!

River’s Edge by Gem Sivad ~From gunslinger to ranch owner. He’s finding respectability a lot more dangerous than his former life of sin.

AVAILABLE NOW @ 99¢:

 iTunes   /  Barnes & Noble  /  Kobo / Amazon 

______________________
Web Twitter / FB / Amazon / GR / 

Thanks so much for stopping by.

Have a great week!

About Gem

Author of contemporary, paranormal, and historical western romance always with a pinch of naughty, a dash of desire and sometimes with a touch of magic.
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5 Responses to And the Winners Are…

  1. Cheryl Lemon says:

    Gem – my email address is lemonc@saic.com – Can’t believe I won. WooHoo

  2. Lemon, Cheryl A. says:

    Gem

    Email address is below. WooHoo I won!!! ☺

    Cheryl

    Cheryl Lemon [image001] –
    [Description: C:\Users\lemonc\Desktop\SAIC_logo_RGB-lg.jpg]
    Executive Administrative Assistant | Navy and Marine Corps Business Unit
    Local Registration Authority (LRA)/Notary Public
    LOC 1513 – MS Q2-E
    Phone – 858-826-5615
    Cell – 619-787-8824
    Fax – 619-221-9134
    lemonc@saic.com

    This email and any attachments to it are intended only for the identified recipients. It may contain proprietary or otherwise legally protected information of SAIC. Any unauthorized use or disclosure of this communication is strictly prohibited. If you have received this communication in error, please notify the sender and delete or otherwise destroy the email and all attachments immediately.

  3. Shirley Long says:

    Hey Gem ~~ I sent my snail mail address to the email address I have for you. Don’t like to put it out there for all the world to see. Let me know here if you don’t get it.

  4. alisab8 says:

    Gem, Thanks for picking my name. My email address is mango8@msn.com.

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