Cowboy Heartbreaker. Delores Fossen
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This bad-boy cowboy doesn’t know what to do with a good girl—but after one night together, he sure isn’t ready to let go...
Commiserating over a mutual friend leaving town, best pals since childhood Ryder Crowley and Allie Devlin wind up drowning their sorrows in booze—and each other. For Allie, Wrangler’s Creek’s resident good girl, it’s a secret fantasy come true. She’s been aiming to finally change her straitlaced reputation and knows a night with Ryder will do the trick. She just didn’t count on wanting so much more...
Bad-boy ranch hand Ryder is no stranger to one-night stands, but this is different. This is Allie. She’s not the kind of girl you love and leave, and that’s all he knows. But when Allie tempts him with a naughty, no-strings-attached weekend, Ryder can’t resist, soon realizing Allie might have his heart more tied up than he ever thought possible.
USA TODAY bestselling author DELORES FOSSEN has had more than seventy-five novels published, with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award and the RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award, and was a finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award. In addition, she’s had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines. Married to an air force colonel, Delores is the mother of four children and has lived in England and all over the United States. She’s had a variety of careers and jobs: an air force captain, a special-ed teacher and a rehab counselor. None was as fun or challenging as the time she spent as a stay-at-home mom. You can get updates about Delores’s books or contact her through her website at www.deloresfossen.com.
Cowboy Heartbreaker
Delores Fossen
ISBN: 978-1-474-08237-2
COWBOY HEARTBREAKER
© 2018 Delores Fossen
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Contents
“WEDDINGS SUCK,” Ryder Crowley grumbled under his breath as he took a long drink of his beer.
He obviously hadn’t said his complaint quietly enough, though, because the woman standing next to him, Allie Devlin, poked his arm with her elbow. “I have more reasons to say that than you do. Five yards of reasons.”
Allie fanned her hand over his “Texas tuxedo”—jeans, jacket, Stetson and boots. Then she fanned that same hand over the “five yards” of bridesmaid’s dress she was wearing. The color was what Ryder would call turtle-snot green, and it puffed out in all directions because of the thick gobs of netting that were everywhere, even on the sleeves.
Ryder drank more of his beer and made a sound to indicate she was right, but the dress only confirmed that weddings did indeed suck on several levels. He wasn’t a fan of the clashing odors of the too-rich food, the flowers and the sweat being generated in the barn by the wedding guests who were boot scootin’ on the makeshift dance floor.
His attitude about weddings was likely heavily influenced by the fact that he didn’t consider himself the marrying sort. Of course, he hadn’t considered the groom that, either, but there was Curt Mercer, part one of his best friend posse, working up a sweat dancing with his bride, Savannah O’Neil, who he had met on one of the online dating sites.
After the reception, Curt and Savannah would be moving to her family’s cattle ranch two hundred and forty-five miles away in Abilene. Then, in about six months, they’d be having a baby that they’d yet to tell their folks about.
Ryder was happy for them and had never seen two people more in love, but he figured he was still allowed to feel the...loss.
Silently feel it anyway.
There was no chance in hell he’d ever let Curt know, but Ryder would miss not being able to call him at any time, any day for any reason. He’d miss their spur-of-the-moment fishing trips. And just hanging out when it was Curt, Allie, him and part four of the “Crab Posse,” Ryder’s twin sister, Bree, who was on the dance floor, too, with a groomsman.
They’d come up with the word crab using the first initials of their names. They’d been kids, only seven or eight, and had thought it pretty darn clever. By the time they learned it wasn’t just a dish served at the seafood restaurant but also a nasty STD, the name had already stuck.
Still