As always…thanks for loving my books and the wild ride!
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Read a sneak peek from Tri-Tip, book three in the Grade-A Beefcakes series.
Three big cowboys—Gus, Kemp and Poe—are going to give Parker more than just the tip.
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Remember: With a Vanessa Vale book, one cowboy is never enough. In this smokin’ hot series, each heroine gets an extra helping (or two) of Grade-A Beefcake.
Tri-Tip
PARKER
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“Easy, boy. I won’t hurt you,” I murmured, trying my gentlest voice.
I stared down some kind of brown mutt who looked like he was about to bolt. There was nowhere for him to go out on the prairie like this. Just open fields and then beyond those, even more. He seemed like a nice dog, and probably hungry. Glancing about, I wondered where he could get water. A creek? There were cottonwood trees in the distance which meant water, but still. Some loser must’ve dumped him on the side of the road.
His brown eyes met mine, his body still, muscles tense and quivering.
“You want a sandwich? I’ll share.”
I backed up slowly so he wouldn’t run off—I couldn’t leave him out here, and I didn’t want to chase after him—and pulled out my wrapped ham sandwich from the center console.
Taking out half, I tossed it toward him. He jumped back
, then sniffed.
I went to the back door of the cruiser and opened it up, tossed the other half on the plastic seat. He wasn’t a prisoner, but he needed a bath before he sat up front.
I leaned against the side of the SUV and looked away so I didn’t spook him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him debating before tiptoeing—if dogs did that—toward the sandwich on the ground and gobbling it down. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. He was no dummy and knew exactly where the other half was. I just had to hope he was smart enough to climb in to get it.
He was. He hopped into the back to get the rest of his snack. I shut the door and went around to the driver’s seat, settled behind the wheel.
“Pam, I’m out on County Road Seven and picked up a stray dog. Hungry. I think he should be seen by a vet,” I said into my police radio.
“There’s a place on Fourth, two blocks off of Main,” she replied, her voice tinny through the speaker.
I glanced into the back where the dog was licking his lips, clearly having enjoyed the sandwich more than I would have. He sat his butt down on the seat and stared at me, cocked his head to the side. Part lab, part basset hound, part… what did I know about dogs? I’d never had one growing up. He seemed content in his spot, as if he’d ridden in a car often enough and knew he was going somewhere. And that he wasn’t alone.
Yeah, I could relate, buddy.
It felt good to be wanted, to have someone take care of you—and by that I meant pressing me up against the door or bending me over the bed when I came home from work and making me forget about every single call or court appearance. I wanted him to get me out of my bland uniform and naked. To take control so I could submit. Let go. Give over.
God, yes.
I wasn’t neglected—my vibrator saw to that—or abandoned on the side of the road like the furry guy eyeing me. I was back in my hometown, had a new job, my mom was nearby and I had plenty of batteries for the well-used vibrator… there was nothing to complain about. But while I wasn’t alone, I—make that my pussy—was definitely a little lonely.
A guy would be nice. Someone who was interested in all that I had to offer. And I had a lot to offer. Momma called me big-boned. I considered myself more Amazon than anything. At just under six feet, I towered over most guys in town. And those big bones? Yeah, on top of them I had muscles and a fair amount of padding. Big boobs, big butt. Not too many men were interested in all that I came with. I’d had boyfriends—I was far from a virgin—but it had been a while. I was discriminate and was definitely picky when it came to who got in my bed. Or pressed me up against the wall.
Then there was the fact that I was the sheriff of Raines County and that came with a utility belt, a set of handcuffs and a uniform shirt that had me looking more man than woman. I wasn’t the soft, timid type. I wasn’t dainty. Petite. Most men wanted to wear the pants in a relationship and my job didn’t call for skirts. Jeans, boots and the uniform shirt. Even a utility belt with more gadgets than Batman.
I sighed. The job picked me and here I was. Raines, Montana, in a police SUV with a stray dog.
“Ten-four,” I replied, putting the radio away and starting back toward town. Every day on the job was different. Paperwork, time in court, traffic stops. Hell, even a dog rescue. For being a small town, the job wasn’t boring. So far, not too bad. Back in law school, I never would have imagined myself back in my hometown. Gone ten years, back two months.