Title: One Texas Cowboy Too Many
Author: Carolyn Brown
Series: Burnt Boot, Texas #3
Pubdate: March 1st, 2016
Carolyn
Brown’s New York Times and USA Today bestselling cowboys prove
that love is bigger in Burnt Boot, Texas
She’s got
too many cowboys on her hands
Leah Brennan
has always been the good girl of the Brennan family, groomed to become the
matriarch of the clan. When a dark-eyed, tattooed, ponytailed bad boy saunters
into her life, Leah knows he’s off-limits—but his mesmerizing gaze makes her
forget everything she used to think was important. As town-wide tension rises,
Leah wonders if love really can conquer all…
And the
whole town’s taking sides
When Rhett
O’Donnell roars into Burnt Boot on a hot July evening, the first thing he sees
is a beautiful blonde. She puts a little extra giddy-up in his heartbeat, but
when Rhett’s desire throws him into the middle of a love triangle and a
hundred-year-old feud, he realizes that winning his cowgirl’s heart will be a
lot more complicated than he thought.
NY Times and
USA Today Bestselling author and RITA Finalist, Carolyn Brown, has published more than seventy books. She has
written historical single title, historical series, contemporary series and
single titles, cowboy romance and women’s fiction. These days she is
concentrating on her two loves: romantic women’s fiction and cowboy romance.
She and her husband, a retired English teacher, make their home in southern
Oklahoma. They have three grown children and enough grandchildren to keep them
young. When she’s not writing she likes to spend time in her back yard with her
two cats, Boots Randolph Terminator Outlaw and Chester Fat Boy, and watch them
protect the yard from vicious critters like field mice, crickets and spiders.
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An
Excerpt:
The
Burnt Boot Bar and Grill was not exactly what Rhett expected. The parking lot
was gravel, or at least it had been at one time. Now it was thinly distributed
gravel on top of dirt with only one streetlamp to illuminate the whole place.
The building was weathered wood that didn’t look as if it had ever seen a drop
of paint applied. Hell, it might have even been petrified, as old as that sign
swinging above the entrance. The roof was rusty sheet metal, and the only
window in the place was the one in the door.
“Not
what you thought it would be?” Sawyer asked when Rhett got out of his truck.
“Looks
more like a barn than a bar,” he said.
“The
inside is better—air-conditioning, jukebox, and even paint on the walls.” Jill
laughed.
“I
like the air-conditioned part best of all.” Rhett followed them inside.
The
bar itself was only eight stools long and had a small area for grilling burgers
and making fries behind it. There were no pool tables, which surprised Rhett.
But not as much as the shelves holding loaves of bread, hot dog and hamburger
buns, and a small assortment of prepackaged pastries, or the refrigerated
section beside that, with milk, beer, wine, and soda pop behind sliding glass
doors. The other end of the long, rectangular room sported a jukebox, a few mismatched
tables with chairs around them, and a small area for dancing.
“After
the store closes in the evening, folks can get milk and bread or beer in here,”
Sawyer answered the unasked question.
“And I
thought Comfort was a small town. I’m not sure this qualifies as a town.” Rhett
chuckled.
Sawyer
clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, you know what
Grandpa says. To be a town, the place has to have a church and a place to buy
beer or get a shot of whiskey. So by the O’Donnell qualifications, Burnt Boot
passes the test.”
At nine o’clock , he’d filled a few
pitchers of beer for folks who’d drifted in and out, and Sawyer had shown him
the process of making burger baskets. Sparks
Two
lonesome, old cowboys sat in a back corner drinking beer and telling tall
tales. The jukebox had gone quiet and Rhett had wiped down the bar so often
that it was shiny clean. If every night was like that, he’d have to bring some
rope to make a bridle or something to keep himself from dying of complete
boredom.
“Why
don’t y’all go on home? I can handle it for the next couple of hours,” Rhett
said.
“If
you’re sure, we won’t argue.” Jill removed her apron and hung it on a nail.
Sawyer
didn’t waste a bit of time hanging his apron right beside hers. “We damn sure
won’t. Can’t remember the last time we got to go home before midnight . Sweep up and put the chairs
on the tables. We don’t do mopping unless there’s major spills. Here’s the
keys. Be sure to turn off the grill and the lights.”
“Will
do.” Rhett rolled the sleeves of his white T-shirt and wiped down the bar one
more time.
Jill
and Sawyer were gone less than five minutes when the door flew open and
suddenly the bar was crowded to capacity. Someone plugged money into the
jukebox, and in seconds it was going full blast, playing “Boys ’Round Here” by
Blake Shelton. Folks wasted no time getting out onto the dance floor and making
a long line to do a line dance. The noise level went from zero to one hundred
so quick that it took a while for Rhett’s ears to adjust.
“Hey,
Rhett, we need three pitchers of beer and about six red cups,” Kinsey yelled
from the end of the bar.
He
quickly filled the pitchers, set them on the bar, and stacked up six plastic
cups. Kinsey handed him a bill and he made change.
“And
when you finish that, I need two longneck bottles of Coors,” Betsy said from
the other end of the bar.
It kept
him hopping, keeping the beer orders filled, the money straight, and making a
few pitchers of margaritas. Then there was a lull, and there she was, sitting
on a bar stool, her light green eyes watching him. His heart threw in an extra
beat and his chest tightened.
“Well,
hello, did you just fall from heaven?” he asked.
“I’ll
have a double shot of Jack on the rocks, so the answer is no. I don’t think
angels drink whiskey, but it is a fine line,” she answered.
“So
you are a Tennessee
“Tonight
I am,” she said.
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