Cinderella's Cowboy

By Roxanne Snopek

Chad Anders doesn’t know why mousy Cynthia Henley trips all over her tongue when she’s around him. Nor does he understand his undeniable attraction to this good girl. Wild and sexy is his type, like the dream-girl he caught a glimpse of years earlier he’s never forgotten.

Cynthia’s superpower is invisibility, especially with men. It’s better for everyone that way. Besides, she’s got a cat. She’s okay. But when playboy-rancher Chad hires her, she’s got a chance to shine. Professionally, at least. Until she learns of his fascination with a mysterious dream-girl, who was actually nothing more than a shy teenager on an ill-advised dare all those years ago. Cynthia knows she’s no man’s dream-girl and never will be.

But there’s magic at the ball. Princesses glow in the starlight, princes appear out of nowhere, and, sometimes, they look a lot like cowboys…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: Apr 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781942240648

Book preview

Cinderella’s Cowboy

A This Old House Romance

Roxanne Snopek

––––––––

C

inderella’s Cowboy

© Copyright 2015 Roxanne Snopek

Smashwords Edition

The Tule Publishing Group, LLC

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-942240-64-8

D

edication

This book goes out to all the good girls, the responsible ones, the women who pick up the slack and deal with the mail and wipe away that last streak on the counter at night. Promise me to be a little wild now and then, okay?

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Dear Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

This Old House Series

About the Author

D

ear Reader,

It’s tough running the world, isn’t it? Being the one who always keeps the toilet paper stocked and never has time to get sick? Or maybe your version of good girl runs more to the dreamy side, believing the best of others, that your turn will come if you keep playing long enough, stay positive, keep cheering.

By definition, it’s good to be a good girl. We’re self-reliant, empathetic and very strong. But it can also be bad. We run the risk of being overlooked, overworked, underappreciated, underpaid, ignored, taken for granted, passed over. We keep our hands down in class, for fear of being wrong, even though we’re usually right. We hide, rather than be embarrassed.

That, my friends, is not good at all.

The heroine of this story has been a good girl for a long time, without much to show for it. But when a chance to grab that brass ring appears, she reaches out, despite the likelihood of falling on her face, because failure won’t kill her and the risk is worth the reward.

This is my hope for you, dear readers: take chances, risk failure, hold your head and your hands up high and know that the world is yours for the taking, whatever that looks like to you.

Hugs,

Roxanne

C

hapter One

A pair of golden-green eyes stared out from between the bale of straw and the wall of Cynthia’s office, then blinked, once.

Mrrt.

Doing business out of a barn might not be everyone’s cup of tea but the cats were a perk. Especially when they were kittens.

Cynthia hunkered down onto her hands and knees and nudged the china plate across the concrete floor. The scrawny creature swivelled his ears but held his ground. She was definitely making progress.

Grant proposals and press releases had deadlines, but when it came to befriending strays, you had to take your opportunities when they came.

She gestured to the slice of turkey with her ballpoint pen, then spoke into it, as if it were a microphone.

Tell me, Mr. Tiny Orange Feline, what makes DMC Solutions the best choice in today’s business climate?

A simple question, right? The kind of thing a media and communications specialist would be perfectly positioned to answer, right?

She pointed the pen at the kitten. In a high, squeaky voice, she answered.

Cynthia Henley is poised, polished and perfectly presentable. She uses the right words, in the correct order and never ever embarrasses herself or others.

She pointed the pen back at herself.

Thank you, Tiny Feline. We believe you to be biased by turkey-breast interference and thus unreliable, but we appreciate your kindness.

The kitten stretched out his neck and snatched the turkey, just like the Marietta Weekly journalism intern who posted Cynthia’s recent Interview of Shame on YouTube.

The intern was long gone, but the paper’s online Business Focus column had never had so much traffic.

If only she hadn’t bumped into Chad Anders first. Coming face-to-face with one of her most embarrassing moments had awakened the monster that lay coiled inside her, ready to flick its forked tongue up her throat and spawn new, improved embarrassing moments.

I provide services my clients won’t find elsewhere.

She’d meant to sound earnest but nervous hyperventilation made it come out like a spaghetti western madame offering up a room service special.

I’ll do anything to muh-muh-meet their needs.

Why didn’t someone stop her? Or shoot her?

Ha-ha. I muh-mean, not uh-uh-anything, anything. Ha-ha.

Bray like a donkey. That’ll help.

DMC Solutions is uniquely puh-puh-positioned for today’s buh-business cuh-cuh-cuh-climax.

Oh, the humanity.

It was a mercy for everyone when the snake lurched up from her stomach and grabbed her larynx, shutting it down completely.

Maddie and DeeDee, her stepsisters and partners in DMC Solutions – she used the word partner loosely – had found the whole thing hilarious, reminding her that any publicity is good publicity. And they had a point. The viral clip of Cynthia’s stuttering offer of business climaxes had raised their online profile right alongside that of the newspaper. Website and social media hits had gone through the roof.

Serious inquiries, not so much.

Easy for Maddie and DeeDee to laugh; they didn’t identify with the company the way Cynthia did.

Knock, knock.

The male voice came from just behind her and she scrambled to her feet. The kitten fled.

The voice was attached to a long, tall figure leaning against her doorway, hat in hand, laughter twinkling in his eyes.

Perfect.

Chad Anders, brother to Eric, former rodeo champion and once the object of devotion for teen girls everywhere. Chad Anders, unknowing link to a more distant and far more humiliating event.

Chad Anders, so far out of her league, he was coming up on the other side.

The snake quivered but Cynthia stuck out her chest and jammed the monster down, deep inside. This was her turf. It would take more than a sparkling grin from a pretty playboy to wreck her composure.

Yes, hi! Hello!

Excellent. Yell at him. That’s the way.

His eyebrows went up. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Chad Anders. I’m looking for DMC Solutions.

He grinned. Every woman in a hundred mile radius knew Chad Anders and he knew it. Worse, he knew she knew it too.

Cynthia Henley. You found her. It. I’m it. DMC Solutions, I mean. Part of it, at least.

Communications expert, that’s me.

Pleased to meet you, ma’am. He lifted his hat. Though I do recognize you from our first meeting.

Ha-HA! shouted the snake, grabbing Cynthia’s throat.

Nuh-no, I’m, I duh-don’t-

I saw you at that awards dinner, he continued. You might not remember. You were leaving as I came in. You looked like you were in a hurry.

Relief flooded over her and her throat opened. Not the interview, then. And not... that other thing.

Of course, she said, pretending she’d forgotten, that he was just as unmemorable as she was. The dinner. I almost ran you down, I think.

He glanced toward the bales stacked against her office wall. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.

Not at all, she said, brushing past him into her office. What can I do for you, Mr. Anders?

She turned to invite him in, and he bumped into her. Right there and solid as a brick outhouse.

Oh! She backed away quickly.

Oops, sorry, he said smoothly, with a cheeky sorry-but-not-really tilt to his head. And you can call me Chad.

Her stepsisters would have been madly loading their flirt-guns. Too bad for Chad, they weren’t here. Cynthia had given up shooting, for the good of mankind.

She moved to the safety of her desk anyway, though, sat down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Instead of sitting, he leaned against the doorframe and hooked his fingers in his belt loops, a classic I’m-all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips move. She could see the resemblance between him and his brother in the way he held himself, the tilt of his head, the line of his jaw.

Chad, then. She gestured for him to take the seat across from her. What can DMC Solutions do for you?

My brother and I have recently established a charitable foundation, he said. You probably know my brother, Eric Anders.

She bit back a laugh. Surely he was kidding this time. Eric Anders hadn’t been in the Marietta area as long as Chad, but his arrival had caused something of a stir. The screaming fans who’d followed his career were mostly grown and scattered now but there were still those that remembered weeping at the injury that ended his career.

Cynthia had been one of them once. Had a huge crush, to be completely accurate.

Had confessed as much at the awards dinner Chad mentioned, in front of a crowd of listeners. Speaking to him had been a test of strength, a challenge, a reminder that she was not shackled by the past.

Not a single stutter.

She did have to go out for air after, though. Call me Cyn. Really? Who said stuff like that?

Eric was off the market now, in the clutches of Leda, the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo who’d been with him at the ceremony.

Cynthia sighed. No wonder she had no luck with men. Good girls definitely finished last.

And yeah, she remembered bumping into Chad, too. He’d touched her arm in passing. She crossed her arms now, then quickly uncrossed them, aware that she could still recall the warmth of his touch.

Eric and I want to sponsor a fundraiser, said Chad. "Are