Cover Designer: Leah Suttle
Official genre of book: Contemporary Romance with Mystery/Suspense undertones
“Is there anything I can help you with?” A deep voice asked from behind her.
“No, I think we have it.” She hopped down from the pen. Glacier blue eyes locked with hers. She would know his eyes anywhere. Her heart quickened just as it did the first time she’d ever laid her gaze upon him, and a tingling sensation shot through her.
Dallas looked older than she remembered, broader, gruffer, but still sexy.
Tucker, you have Tucker.
Where was he, anyway? In her haste to get ready, she’d forgotten to call him.
“Dallas? Yeah, we can use a hand.” Chevy still fumbled with the lock. “Can you come over here and help me with Knuckle Head? Dr. Bailey wants him to walk around so she can get a closer look.”
“I really don’t think that’s necessary–”
“I would love to help. That’s why I’m here.” Dallas jogged to the front of the bull and grabbed the lead rope with his left hand. A plastered cast circled his right wrist and rose halfway up his forearm.
She turned to Spencer and furrowed her brow.
Spencer stared back at her and displayed her pageant winning 2005 Miss Frisbee smile, her thumb up in the air. Some friend she was.
Dallas and Chevy led the bull out of the pen while she observed the bull’s gait.
“Let’s get him over by a water hose. I want to get a closer look at his foot.” She pointed toward a washing station and followed behind the men as they led the bull, sure to steer clear of Knuckle Head’s hind legs in the event he wanted to kick her.
From her position, she had a clear view of Dallas’s backside. Everything appeared to be as tight as she remembered, which did nothing to settle those distracting tingling sensations.
Erin Bevan was born and raised in Southwest Arkansas. She spent her teenage years working for her aunt at the local gas station flipping burgers and making milkshakes, dreaming of the day when something better would come her way, and it did in the form of a five foot six, one hundred and fifty pound engineer.
Fast forward ten years later, she found herself stuck inside an apartment in South Korea while her daughter went to preschool and her husband went to work. Alone and unable to speak the local language she turned to books for a friend. After reading a few hundred in such a short time, she decided to try her hand at writing one.
That first one sucked, but by the fifth and sixth book, Erin started to get the hang of this writing thing. Getting the first contract in the mail was a dream come true. Now, with three babies at home, she squeezes in stories one word at a time, one sentence at a time, one day at a time.
She’s a full time mom, a full time wife, with a little writer sprinkled in whenever she can get the chance. And the laundry? Well, it’s best not to open the washroom door!