Sam, Brock & Seth: Cooper Stud Ranch, #2

By Jodi Olson

Saddle up and ride for romance and action with the men of the Cooper Stud Ranch. Erotic romance author Jodi Olson begins volume two with three western tales featuring Sam, Brock and Seth.

Sam a widower who lost his wife and son, and his ranch heads back home to the Cooper Stud Ranch.

A mail order bride comes to the Cooper ranch and Sam's life turns upside down. How long can Sam keep up the charade and lies to win her over?

Bounty Hunter Brock Cooper and Sam's twin is on the hunt for Dolly 'Dollface' Malone. She's wanted for several bank robberies. What would he do with Dolly once he found her? Would he risk losing the bounty for love?

Widower Seth Cooper was raising his twin boys alone. As much as he loved his wild boys he had a ranch to run.

When Belle shows up for the housekeeping/nanny position , Seth tells her to go away they didn't need her. Then he changes his mind giving her four days to prove she could handle the job.

When it's time for Belle to go, will Seth be able to stop her? Or will there be another Cooper wedding in the future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jodi Olson
• Release date: Dec 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386212096

Jodi Olson

Jodi Olson is the best selling author of Naughty Whispers, Raining on Sunday and Getting Wild. She has a passion for cowboys and feisty heroines, who love humor, and are loyal to each other. Her heros are sexy, alpha and just as hot as hell. They can be protective and a bit bossy but we end up loving them anyway. The Heroines are strong and not afraid to stand up for themselves. Jodi spends her days taking long walks, reading and talking to imaginary cowboys. She has found herself single after a 29 year marriage and loving it. Hear Jodi roar! She loves to hear from her readers. She also writes under the name Georgia Lily. Sweet historical  and contemporary westerns.

Book preview

Chapter One

Twenty-nine year old Sam Cooper thought of a million other things he’d rather be doing than waiting for a stagecoach scheduled to arrive at any moment. Why didn’t Brock meet his bride-to-be? He had no idea his brother wanted to get married, let alone sent for a mail-ordered bride.

If it weren’t for the note under his door two weeks ago telling him to meet the stagecoach, he’d be doing chores instead of leaning against the Rusty Nail Saloon waiting for her.  Ben, Jake, and their wives were away visiting Dan and his wife Kelly who had just given birth to twin boys recently. So that left Sam and Brock to take care of things around the ranch. Damn it Brock! You’re always screwing up and expecting your brothers to clean up your shit!

Sam didn’t need this today of all days. Four years ago today, his wife Grace died giving birth to his son. To this day he never stopped thinking of her. A few days later his son became ill and also died. So wrapped up in grief, he ended up losing his own ranch and decided maybe it was time to come back home. He ached to have his family back. Grace would want him to move on, enjoy life. Coming back to the Cooper Ranch, seeing his brothers brought a little happiness at least.

It was a shock when he got back to the ranch, after being away for years; three of his brothers were already married. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being around them until they treated him like he’d never left in the first place.

Sam watched a woman step out of the stagecoach. She wasn’t what he expected a mail-order bride to look like. The pale blue dress fit her perfectly; her dark brown hair tumbling down past her shoulders. She was the most striking woman he’d seen in a long time. If she’s Brock’s bride, his brother was one lucky son of a gun.

Thoughts of her underneath him calling out his name as he entered her pussy filled his head. He could see her on her knees sucking his cock or on all fours. He would grab a handful of that hair while he fucked her from behind. Fuck! This woman belonged to Brock and his brother should be here instead.

*****

Elizabeth ‘Betsy’ Calloway was born into a family who could barely keep a roof over their heads. Her mother took in laundry, but it wasn’t enough. When her father sold her off to the highest bidder to pay for his gambling debts, Betsy ran away. She took what little clothes she owned; and a pocket watch she’d stolen from her father in hopes of selling it for money that would get her far away.  When she got kicked off the train for not having a ticket, Betsy took the next stagecoach to her destination.

She stepped down from the stagecoach that brought her to Carnation, Washington. The town was much smaller then she thought. Would Brock send her back to New York after taking one look at her? He had no idea what she looked like. She hoped he wasn’t into looks because she never considered herself pretty let alone stunning.

Betsy looked around once more, she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. She had no idea what Brock looked like except she knew he had long black hair and dark eyes. She had only one photograph of three men and they all had long black hair. All were attractive and she had no idea which one was Brock.

After the crowd moved away, she gazed over to one cowboy leaning against the Rusty Nail Saloon. He must have been six-foot four, the brim of the Stetson he wore shaded his eyes, his long black hair hung down past his broad shoulders. His cheeks showed a darkening of whisker growth. Her eyes lowered to his closely fitted trousers. Embarrassed by where she stared, Betsy looked over toward the stagecoach driver who placed her bags down on the ground.

The cowboy pushed up his hat and started toward her. Betsy couldn’t take her eyes off him. She no longer thought of telling him she changed her mind and couldn’t go through with marrying a stranger. Instead, she wondered what the nights would be like in his arms.

You must be Betsy Andrews.  He touched her hand as he went to grab the bags.

No, I’m Elizabeth Andrews; I prefer not to be called Betsy. The only one who called me Betsy was my father. She stared at the gorgeous cowboy that stood so close to her. She found it hard to catch her breath.

I like the name Betsy, it suits you. 

I’m waiting for someone.

I know and you’ve found him.

Betsy looked at the man that stood in front of her. Do we meet the reverend somewhere before heading out to your ranch? Betsy looked around. I’ll not share your bed until we are married Mr. Cooper.

*****

The reverend is here only twice a month. You’ll have to wait two weeks before he’s back in town again. Sam should’ve told her he wasn’t Brock and he had no idea when he’d show up to claim his bride. But for some reason he didn’t want her knowing just yet.

The ride home was quiet. Sam thought about what Betsy said in town. He agreed they wouldn’t share a bed but she didn’t say he couldn’t kiss her. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole a quick glance at her. Betsy had the prettiest hazel eyes he’d ever seen. Her full pink lips would look great around his cock. She was a tiny thing, at least a foot shorter to his height.  She sat stiff as a board next to him, staring straight ahead. Sam wondered if Betsy could handle living on a ranch. The thought of her going back to New York unsettled him and he didn’t know why. Scowling with irritation, he slapped the reins over the horse’s back a little too hard causing Betsy to fly over the back of the wagon seat.

Yanking hard on the reins, he brought the horses to a stop, and climbed in back to see if she was alright. Sorry about that Betsy, let me help you. He went and put his hand on her arm.

Thank you for your help, Mr. Cooper.

The silence that again descended drove Sam crazy. Betsy...

Yes?

Nothing, forget it.

Betsy looked at him. What did you want to say?

We’ll be at the ranch soon. I’m sure you’re tired after your trip.

Yes, I am. Is that your ranch up ahead?

Yes, that’s the Cooper Stud Ranch. He smiled for the first time since they left town.

Sam pulled into the long dirt road that led toward the ranch.

You own all this? Betsy asked.

My parents, Frank and Sarah Cooper, worked hard and when they passed, left the horse business to my brother Ben. The land and house belongs to all of us so we will always have a place to call home.

All three of you own the ranch?

Three? What did B... no there are six of us if you count me in there.

Six? Oh my, your mother sure had her hands full. Betsy murmured.

We did keep her busy.

Sam stopped the horses right in front of the big white house then looked at her.

You go on ahead inside. I need to put the horses away and I’ll bring in your bags.

Sam helped her down from the buckboard. He held on to her a little longer then he should have but something about her made his heart beat a little faster, his pants a little tighter.

I’ll wait for you inside then. Sam groaned when she pulled away from him first, if she stayed a moment longer he’d have kissed her.

*****

Sam led the team toward the barn. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Betsy watching him. He quickly looked away and went inside the barn and, in anger, threw the harness he held in his hand. He needed to tell her that he wasn’t Brock but then she would leave and he didn’t want that either. In Brock’s note he never mentioned how pretty Betsy was; in fact, there wasn’t a thing in that letter except ‘take care of Betsy for me until I return’.

Walking out of the barn, he closed the doors hard. It was going to be hard to keep his hands off her. The next time he saw Brock he’d kick his sorry ass for dumping her on his lap. Fuck! Now all I can think about is her riding me, fast and hard.

Several hours later, Sam brought in Betsy’s bags and put them across the hall from his room. There were plenty of bedrooms to choose from but for some reason the one across from him was where he wanted her to be. Closing the door he walked downstairs and smelled something burning. He sure as hell didn’t need this on top of everything else.

It was obvious she hadn’t cooked a day in her life. Sam had a feeling it was only the beginning of a long list of what she couldn’t do on a ranch.

Sam heard his stomach growl and wondered if he should just make a cold chicken sandwich then he’d do the cooking tomorrow.  He was hot, tired and irritable.

With a heavy sigh, Sam walked further into the kitchen. He discovered the table already set for supper, then spotted Betsy coming from the other room.

He stared at the lovely picture in front of him. She must’ve changed clothes because the dress wasn’t as fancy looking as before.

You look nice, he said quietly.

Thank you. Betsy smiled.

When will supper be on the table?

Oh, I’m sorry, you must be starving. I’ll have everything on the table in a few minutes.

Sam took a seat and watched as Betsy moved around the kitchen. Within minutes the table was full of plates and bowls. He first grabbed a couple of biscuits, than placed a chunk of burnt meat onto his plate. Then added a big spoon full of mashed potatoes but the coloring wasn’t right. What the hell did she put in it?

He thought she must have worked hard on the meal, so he would at least try and eat it. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

I was thinking of planting a garden. Would that be okay with you if I did that? Betsy asked as she filled her plate.

Sam bit into the rock hard biscuit then set it back on the plate. Are you sure that is something you know how to do? Usually my sister-in-law’s get everything at the mercantile.

I’ve never planted one before but it can’t be too hard, can it?

Maybe you should wait until Cassie and Sassy can help you with it.

I can do it, and it will be a nice surprise when they get back, I just need seeds.

Sam was too tired to argue with her so he took a bite of the mush in front of him. Brock better learn to cook if Betsy married his little brother. He put down his fork and gazed into Betsy’s eyes. Suddenly he broke into a leisurely smile. He couldn’t wait until Brock tasted one of her meals. His brother had no idea his mail-order bride would need cooking lessons. Brock didn’t cook, that much he did know.

He watched as she got up from the table to get the coffee she must have forgotten. A hunger began to stir in his gut. He wanted her with an intensity he never felt before.

I’m sorry that I forgot about the coffee. He felt Betsy’s breast rub against his shoulder as she leaned over to pour him a cup. Thoughts of his hands kneading those breasts made his dick strain against his pants.

Sam couldn’t take much more. He had to get some air and away from her before he did something he shouldn’t but wanted in the worst way. He rose from the chair. Did you want help with the dishes before I go outside?

You barely touched your food, she frowned then added.  I can handle a few dishes.

Sam stood watching for a minute before he slammed the door on his way out. For two hours he kept himself busy cleaning stalls, even took a walk to the pond. When he ran out of chores to do he went inside the house. He wondered where Betsy went to because she sure wasn’t in the kitchen. Maybe she turned in for the night. He was about to reach for the doorknob to his room when he heard her voice. Who was she talking to?  Why was she there in the first place?

Sam knocked on the door. He shouldn’t be knocking on his own damn door but he didn’t want to scare her either. Turning the doorknob, he stepped inside. The sight of Betsy standing wearing only a cotton chemise and pantaloons took his breath away. In one hand she had a hold of what looked to be a camisole but he wasn’t sure because Pokey, the family dog, was pulling on the other half.