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Authors: Jacquie Underdown

Catch Me A Cowboy

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Catch Me A Cowboy

Jacquie Underdown

www.escapepublishing.com.au

Catch Me A Cowboy
Jacquie Underdown

The biggest risks yield the greatest gains—especially in the game of love.

Emily Wolfe, real estate agent to the elite, is tired of being alone. So when she gets a chance to compete on a reality dating show she decides to risk it all for love in the biggest game of her life.

The city girl is surprised how much she enjoys switching her high heels for cowboy boots and pedicures for mud treatments—and not the kind you find at a day spa. And she's falling hard for Wil Parker, the sexy, rugged farmer at the centre of the show.

Amidst the chaos, tantrums and editing tape, the heat and passion between Emily and Wil reaches boiling point. But can they survive the imminent explosion, let alone the fallout?

About the Author

Jacquie resides in rural Victoria, Australia, with her husband and two sons. She holds a Bachelor of Business, studied post-grad Writing, Editing, and Publishing at The University of Queensland, and earned a Master of Letters from the University of Central Queensland.

Jacquie is an author of a number of novels, novellas and short stories and is published in the genres of contemporary, fantasy and magic-realism romance. She strives to offer romance, but with complexity; spirituality, without the religion. Her novels express a purpose and offer subtle messages about life, the spirit and, of course, love.

Acknowledgements

I must thank my inspiration source for striking me so thoroughly with this story—may you continue to delightfully unleash your will upon me. I wish to acknowledge my life experience and emotion, good and bad, for allowing me so readily to draw from that deep well. And thank you, time, for being on my side with this story.

Kate Cuthbert, thank you for your continued belief. The behind-the-scenes team at Harlequin and Escape Publishing, thank you for all your work on this story. Brooke Moody, my editor, thank you for your guidance and attention to detail. My beta reader, Lea Darragh, I appreciate your sturdy presence in my life—especially when I hit the lows and practically drown you with great waves of craziness. And, thank you, Liz McKewin, for, despite the kilometres between us, you still remain a true friend and support.

For those who have experienced heartbreak too young

Contents

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

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Chapter 1

Emily Wolfe should have known after the first round between the sheets that he was a selfish lover. But no, she stupidly gave Mr Hotshot Lawyer a second chance, hoping he'd beat his score of one minute and fifty-seven seconds of embarrassing grunting and one orgasm—his.

Never again. From now on, one strike and they were out, because her fragile state of mind couldn't handle it anymore.

With the sheet covering her bare breasts, she stared up at the ceiling—beige-like Mr Lawyer was snoring next to her in bed. At least he tried something a little different last night, she'd give him that much, but slapping a girl's vagina with your penis, because you think it's hot, makes you a porn-watching loser, not a sex god. Her mood went from hopeful to hopping mad in three slaps flat. She was glad when he ended up finishing quicker than the previous date, one minute and thirty-three seconds and zero foreplay, apart from the penis slapping, that was.

Emily wasn't looking for a sex god, instead, someone who was generous, knowledgeable of what “real” women wanted, and capable of giving her an orgasm. It had been two long years since she'd met anyone who fit that criterion, and it really, really wasn't a target set too high.

Fisting the bedsheets, she squeezed hard and bit back a long, angry groan. Two years without an orgasm was not good for any woman's state of mind.

Randall stirred after one of his snores made him choke. Emily's belly twisted, knowing she had to prepare herself to deal with an awkward morning-after moment. She didn't mind the discomfort if it was worth it, but he wasn't. She rolled her head to the side and looked at the long, lean man. He was handsome, sure, but good looks didn't make up for where he lacked—and that was in most departments.

Emily needed more qualities in a man, like humour, a moral compass, generosity, and adequate in bed.

See, she wasn't reaching too high.

She wasn't asking for mind-blowing or sensational, just adequate. Capable of getting the job done. A man who could distract her from how many seconds were passing during the big act and take the time so she would finish with an O.

Randall smiled languidly and shuffled closer. The sticky wet head of his erection pushed against her thigh. Her eyes widened. He grinned. No way was she going near that again. The nerve of him, to leave her Oless twice now, and expect she spread her thighs and let him at her again.

‘You know what I love?' he asked squeezing her nipple, too hard, but at least, he found it. She had assumed he wasn't a breast man or had no idea where they were located. ‘A morning blowjob.'

Emily turned away from him, suppressing the snarl teasing her mouth. An angry roar sat in her throat, demanding release. So, after his poor performance, he now wanted her to suck his dick. And going by his vagina slapping technique, he'd probably ask if he could ejaculate on her face, just for kicks.

She took a deep breath for calm and looked at him again. As evenly as she could, she said, ‘I think you should leave.' She may have even pushed at his shoulder, she was too livid to notice.

‘What?' he asked, rolling out of bed, that big useless erection prodding out in front of him.

What a damn waste.

She tugged at the sheet until it came loose from her bed, wrapped it around her, then climbed out on the opposite side. ‘Go! I want you to leave.' Her voice cracked with emotion. It wasn't right he was wearing the brunt of the other men who had let her down before him. The others she found on dating sites who wanted sex, but only to satisfy themselves. The others who treated her kindly until they got what they wanted. But she couldn't help how she was feeling—Randall was the dick that broke the camel's back.

Randall huffed as he picked up his trousers and stepped into them. ‘Did I do something wrong?'

She nodded, done with hiding the fact that it was an important role to be a generous lover, to actually care about the girl you were screwing, and not treat sex like it was made solely for the satisfaction of men.

Emily's anger wasn't totally because he didn't make her orgasm, she wasn't that shallow. She was also upset by the guys who would make her pay for half the date, even when she didn't drink anywhere near as much as them, then take her home for sex only to leave her wanting and dissatisfied, then never call her again.

‘You did do something wrong, Randall. You're selfish. You didn't attempt foreplay, then managed to grunt away with your eyes closed for an entire one minute thirty. There is such a thing as a female orgasm, or have you not managed to produce one in your lifetime?'

He gasped, his eyes widening in horror. ‘You timed me?'

She crossed her arms over her chest and blinked back tears. ‘There was nothing else to do.'

He shook his head, his mouth hanging open, but no words came out. With fast, jerky movements, he finished dressing, shoved his wallet into his back pocket, and stamped towards the front door. Emily followed behind him to make sure he was leaving.

‘You know what, Emily, I tried my hardest last night.'

No, he damn well didn't and he knew it. She may as well not have even been in the room. He didn't touch her, look at her; the whole moment was all about him.

‘Slapping a girl's vagina with your dick doesn't count as trying. Porn isn't real life. Women don't like that.'

Randall's mouth flapped open and shut as he glared at her. His chest was heaving. Nostrils were flared. Oh dear, she'd hit a sore point. Good. Because he hit a sore point with her too, when he should have been hitting another spot altogether, over and over again.

‘If you want an orgasm, go buy a vibrator. I don't have time for this shit.'

She rolled her eyes as he opened the door, stepped out, and slammed it hard behind him.

‘Typical!'

Emily marched to her room and threw herself on the bed. She covered her face with her hands and cried until her nose was stuffy and her throat was sore.

On the surface, Emily's life was everything she had worked so hard to achieve. She had a successful career in real estate, selling property to the Melbourne elite, owned her own apartment, bought designer clothes, but she was missing something—human connection and intimacy.

She had friends and family whom she valued, but she needed more. She needed touch and slow kisses, long warm cuddles and body heat. A man would never complete her, she wasn't so naive to think that. But she did believe a man could complement her. And, at the end of the day, she was more than a mind—she had biological needs too. And emotional requirements. Humans thrived on love and companionship. At the moment, she was starved for both.

Emily wiped her cheeks and reached for her mobile sitting on the nightstand. She dialled her best friend Xanthi's number.

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