Montana Heat

By Vanessa Vale

Emma Hardy has wondered why Sam Carter rocked her world (and her libido) with an incredible kiss then calmly walked away, quit his job, and disappeared for two months. Not exactly the hot kiss follow-up she'd been hoping for.

But Sam was busy making plans.

Plans that include the two of them and picking up where they left off. This time, nothing will stop them.

This is a Small Town Romance 11k novella! Short and not so sweet!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vanessa Vale
• Release date: Jul 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9788828367345

Vanessa Vale

SIGN UP FOR VANESSA'S MAILING LIST FOR LATEST NEWS and get a FREE book!Just copy and paste the following link into your web browser: http://freeeroticbook.comUSA Today Bestseller of steamy historical westernsWho doesn't love the romance of the old West? Vanessa Vale takes the sensual appeal of rugged cowboys a step further with her bestselling books set in the Montana Territory. They are much more than just sexy historical westerns. They're deliciously naughty reads that sometimes push the boundaries of fantasy. It's pure escapism with quite a few very hot, very alpha cowboys.When she's not writing, Vanessa savors the insanity of raising two boys, is figuring out how many meals she can make with a pressure cooker, and teaches a pretty mean karate class. She considers herself to be remarkably normal, exceedingly introverted and fairly vanilla, which does not explain her steamy stories and her fascination with cowboys, preferably more than one at a time. If that weren't enough, she also writes under the pen name, Vanessa Dare.She lives in the Wild Wild West where there's an endless source of 'research' material.To learn more about Vanessa Vale:Web site- www.vanessavaleauthor.comFollow her on Twitter: @iamvanessavaleKeep up with Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/vanessavaleauthor

Book preview

1

Iwas late. The clock on the dash of my Subaru wagon read ten after. But this was Montana, and no one was in a rush in Montana. Especially after a foot of snow had fallen overnight, leaving the roads covered. Most side roads had yet to be plowed. But Main Street was getting another pass. I knew this because I was stuck behind one of those behemoth dump trucks with the big plow on the front, snow shooting off to the side of the road about fifteen feet in the air.

Pedestrians and parked cars beware. With blinking yellow lights on the roof, chained tires and sand being spread from the back bed like corn to chickens, it was best to give it plenty of room regardless of my tight schedule. Violet didn't really care, but I only had so much time over lunch. I had to get a job to the printer before the end of the day.

It hadn't warmed much; my side windows had fogged up once the heat kicked on. I was so bundled up I felt like the Abominable Snowman, but at least I wasn't cold. Holiday music piped from the car stereo, and I absently hummed along to the seasonal tunes. Outside my window it was like a winter wonderland. The vintage holiday lights, each a different color, stretched across Main from one side of the street to the other at every intersection. Santa had personally come and lit them the first Saturday of the month as part of the annual Christmas Stroll. Practically everyone in town had come out for the evening event, the road closed to cars, the shops open late for holiday gifts and hot chocolate.

The snow plows, for whatever reason, never plowed the very center of the street, leaving a three-foot-tall berm of snow like a concrete highway divider, broken only at the cross streets. There was no jaywalking in the dead of winter in Bozeman. Neither was there very good parking as the snow plows pushed the snow right into the curbside parking spots.

I carefully edged around the snow berm and took a left on Willson to pull up in front of Goldilocks, my final destination, lucky to find a spot right out front. I carefully parallel parked, my back-right wheel elevated on a patch of snow.

Dashing to the store as fast—and as carefully—as I could considering the treacherous sidewalk conditions and my large, clunky winter boots, I was relieved to feel the blast of heat against my stinging cheeks once the door closed behind me.

MeMe Hardy. It's been too long! Goldie called to me as I stomped my boots. She was the owner of Goldilocks, the local, and only, adult store in town. She'd opened it well before I was born, and it was practically a historic landmark, although I was sure Goldie wouldn't appreciate that description. It sold anything and everything sex related, from condoms to crotchless panties to fingertip vibrators. Even in a town of less than thirty thousand, business boomed.

I winced at the childhood nickname. When I turned eighteen and went away to college in California, I’d been able to shed that moniker and take on my given name, Emma. But there were a few die-hards in town still who remembered me when I was three and couldn't say my own name right. I'd been back in town six years and was pushing thirty, but