Valentine's Day at The Corral
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About this ebook
Debra St. John
Debra St. John has been reading and writing romance since high school. She always dreamed about publishing a romance novel some day. Her dream came true when she started writing sultry contemporary romance with sexy heroes and spunky heroines for The Wild Rose Press. Although she's a country gal at heart, she lives in a suburb of Chicago with her husband, who is her real life hero.
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Book preview
Valentine's Day at The Corral - Debra St. John
Inc.
Normally she didn’t go for men in suits and ties. She only wanted two things out of life. A pair of nice fitting jeans and the man inside them. Some girls liked shoulders or chests or abs. For her, it was all about the butt.
It probably was stereotypical of her to think it, but men in business suits tended to be stuffy and uptight. She wanted someone more laid back, with an attitude as casual as the clothes he wore. An executive in charge of running a company wouldn’t know the first thing about relaxing. Taking life as it comes. Or having time to spend with a wife and a family.
Still, despite the fact Scott Callahan was more than likely a clone of all of the other guys in suits and ties she’d ever met, she’d spent an inordinate amount of the weekend thinking about him. And not just his fine derriere. Had she been too quick to turn down his offer of dinner?
Praise for Debra St. John’s Corral Series
"Original turns of phrase make [THIS FEELS LIKE HOME] a delightful read. A great concept—a bull rider paired with a safety-conscious woman—who could ask for more built-in conflict? I also enjoyed the authentic look at rodeos!"
~Ashantay Peters, author of Dickens of a Death
~*~
"The story and characters tugged at my heart while reading. I enjoyed [THIS CAN’T BE LOVE] very much…If you like a contemporary, passionate and emotional read, then laugh and cry along with this one. An author who can make the reader feel so many things is one that has staying power in the writing world."
~Long and Short Reviews
~*~
"Ms. Debra St. John has created a magnificent storyline in [THIS TIME FOR ALWAYS], her first published work…
~The Romance Studio
Valentine’s Day
at The Corral
by
Debra St. John
Holidays at The Corral Series:
Valentine’s Day
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Valentine’s Day at The Corral
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Deborah Rittle
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2016
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0597-4
Holidays at The Corral Series: Valentine’s Day
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To John:
Valentine’s Day was just a Hallmark Holiday
until I met you.
Chapter One
Payback was a bitch.
Gail Robbins assessed the surprisingly crowded barroom and wondered for the eighteen-thousandth time how she’d gotten herself talked into this. Hundreds of people milled around the spacious room. Tension hung thick in the space, almost like the smoky haze of days of old. Were there really so many desperate people in this small corner of Texas?
The whole thing made her see red. Literally. Cherry-colored cherub and heart cutouts plastered the walls. Pink and white twinkle lights twisted around the wooden columns framing the parquet dance floor. A single blood-red carnation in a bud vase centered on a paper doily on a red or pink plastic tablecloth scattered with confetti stood on each high table. Supposedly to set a romantic Valentine’s Day mood—instead the insipid decorations turned the cozy, rustic barroom of The Corral into Gail’s own personal hell.
Most of the soon-to-be participants wore shades of red as well. Her stomach knotted behind the navy and white striped sweater she wore over blue leggings. Her hand shook slightly when she sipped her drink. Chardonnay. Not merlot. Refusing to give into the nauseating color scheme even a little bit, she’d stuck with white wine.
A slightly balding man in his late thirties/early forties wearing a red and white plaid sweater vest—yep, no lie—caught Gail’s eye and smiled. She half-smiled in return, but quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to encourage him.
She was going