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Dream Lover

 

Series: Denim & Spurs ~ Book 2

Publisher: Twisted E Publishing

March 2015

ISBN #:

Genre: Contemporary/Interracial/Western

 

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Can this cowboy rope the woman who makes him realize there is more to life than just work?

The morning Laciee Dupree wakes up in a stranger’s bed, she vows to never drink again. The cowboy who gave her such an amazing night turns out to be the perfect man with his impeccable manners, his amazing looks, and, let’s not forget, his skills in the bedroom. If only he didn’t live in Branchwater, Texas. The attraction between them is hard to ignore, but she grew up in Branchwater and had already left that hick town once—and has zero plans of moving back.

Judd Travers is a dying breed of man, a true cowboy. A loner. He works his large ranch, never giving any thought to getting a wife and kids. At least not until he tangles with Miss Laciee Dupree. She’s everything a man like him could want. Or need.
Problem is, Laciee is trying to leave town faster than she blew in, so he’s got his work cut out if he’s going to convince her to allow him to become more than just her dream lover. During this time there are troubles on his ranch that also require his attention.

Good thing cowboys are used to hard work…

 
   
Excerpt  

Content below is not suitable if under 18.

 
   
Laciee Dupree shifted in the tangled mess of bedding. Burrowing deeper, she fought to ignore the incessant pounding in her head. This, right here, was why she didn’t drink much. She’d never been one to hold her liquor well. And at this party it wasn’t like they were sipping on wine or nursing “fruity” drinks. Oh no, of course not. There they did whisky, bourbon, tequila, scotch... hell, she’d even had some of the local shine. Not something she’d be doing again anytime soon.

I’ll say it makes for nice dreams though. Really nice dreams.

She smiled and opened her eyes enough to be thrilled the room still remained shrouded in darkness. So, she closed them again, ready to sink back into oblivion and the amazing dream lover who’d been with her. All night long.

Her sex throbbed and grew wet at the memories. His callused hands roaming all over her body. The licking, laving, and attention she’d never received from any of her real life experiences. Nipples tightened and she virtually purred like a cat while rubbing against the sheets.

She reached out to grab more blankets and reinforce her cocoon only to pause when she encountered a wealth of hard-packed muscles. Sweet, still dreaming. He remained. And she planned on taking every advantage presented.

Smiling, she widened the spread of her fingers and re-explored the contours of his physique. Every defined abdominal, the rock-hard pectorals, all of it, she was well acquainted with. There wasn’t an inch of this body she didn’t know. From the scruff on his face to the hair on his legs. She knew it all.

His shaft twitched and hardened, and her smile did turn into a purr of pleasure this time. She never wanted to wake from this dream. Reaching down, she closed her fingers about his girth. Dear Lord, why couldn’t she find a man like this in real life?

“Now this is a lovely way to wake up, darlin’.” A deep, masculine voice rumbled from above her head.

She stiffened and shook her head. “Dream men don’t talk. They just pleasure.” Definitely going to have to stop drinking like she did last night.

A decadent chuckle reached her. “I’m all for the pleasuring.” Large hands skimmed down her body, and she jumped up with a scream, lunging for the side of the bed. Her hangover slammed into her and she wove, unsteady on her feet. The ground rushed up toward her only to stop as a pair of strong arms closed around her, halting her.

“Easy there, darlin’.”

Her mind raced. Where am I and who the hell is he? In addition, why was she thinking about touching him all over again? The room was still dark, and she wanted to keep it that way. Easier to keep her shame that…hers alone, in the pitch blackness. Both of his hands moved in a soothing motion along the bared expanse of her back. They were the hands of a man who made his living working hard. They weren’t soft but callused and rough.


Her locale hit her and she bit back a whimper. Branchwater, Texas. This couldn’t be good. Not at all.

 

   

Copyright © Aliyah Burke, 2015.

All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 
 

 

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