Hung Up: Lone Star Honky-Tonk, #2

By Roz Lee

It's Friday night, and hardworking cowboys and ranchers from all around Fort Worth come to The Lone Star for a cold brew and someone warm to dance with. Lucky for them, one table is always reserved for Bailey Rose and her friends, who come there to unwind and maybe to get wound up by a good-looking guy with a big smile and a bigger rodeo buckle.

I should have told Colton what he could do with his money, but I need it to keep the doors of my dance studio open. So, here I am, naked and bound, with a bull rope around my waist, and despite the intricate suspension system holding me up, I'm falling hard. Falling for the impossible man who threw me for a loop and lassoed my heart. Beth

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roz Lee
• Release date: Aug 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9780998570648

Roz Lee

USA Today Best-Selling author Roz Lee is the author of thirty romances. The first, The Lust Boat, was born of an idea acquired while on a Caribbean cruise with her family and soon blossomed into a five-book series published by Red Sage. Following her love of baseball, she turned her attention to sexy athletes in tight pants, writing the critically acclaimed Mustangs Baseball series.Roz has been married to her best friend, and high school sweetheart, for nearly four decades. Roz and her husband have two grown daughters and are the proud grandparents of three adorable grandkids.Even though Roz has lived on both coasts, her heart lies in between, in Texas. A Texan by birth, she can trace her family back to the Republic of Texas. With roots that deep, she says, “You can’t ever really leave.”When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. No trip is too small, no tourist trap too cheesy, and no road unworthy of travel.Visit Roz’s website – www.RozLee.net

Book preview

Out of the Chute

S eriously? I, once again, consult the handwritten directions scribbled on a bar napkin. I’m beginning to feel like a rat in a maze, twisting and turning through the new mini-warehouse development wedged in between two of Fort Worth’s busiest freeways. If this is some kind of a joke, Colton Barnes, I’m going to strangle you with one of your own bull ropes.

Every building, every doorway, is identical to the next one. Following the cryptic directions—third right, second left, fourth driveway on the right—I scan the cookie-cutter doors. Find the one with a neon Open sign—turned off at this hour of the morning for obvious reasons. Not much need for a BDSM club to be open at ten in the morning. Not that I would know anything about such things. Never been to one before. When this photo shoot is over, I doubt I’ll ever set foot in this place again.

I pull into a parking space and cut the engine. My old Mazda heaves like it’s giving up the ghost, and maybe it is. Every time it starts is a surprise. If I had means to replace the heap, I’d welcome its death. I send up a silent prayer for one more miracle, so I can get to the bank to deposit the check I’ve been promised for doing this favor for Colton. The money won’t solve all my problems, but if I parcel it out, I should be able to afford to put my rig on life support. I dread the day Jed down at Finch’s Gas & Garage finally utters the words, Say your good-byes, Beth. There’s nothing more we can do for her.

I make a mental note to stop and pick up a bus schedule on my way home. The money I’m going to earn this week will pay my rent and buy groceries for a few months, but not much more. My car isn’t the only thing on life support. I’ve been doing CPR on my once lucrative dance/cheerleading studio for the last several months. I started out with a group of young dancers a few years ago and took them as far as they could go. Most have moved on to college teams, I’m proud to say. But even though the front window is lined with trophies from various competitions, I haven’t been able to attract enough clients to replace the ones who have left.

My fault. I’m a better dancer than I am a business person. Which brings me to my present predicament.

I haven’t told anyone about my financial difficulties—not my family or my friends. They’d all want to help, but I need to work this out on my own. If I don’t learn the ropes, I’ll always be looking for someone to come to my rescue, and I don’t want to be that person. That’s why I agreed to Colton’s business proposal, and the fact I’ve had the hots for the man since the day my body flooded with estrogen when I was thirteen.

At sixteen, Colton Barnes had already made a name for himself on the football field, the baseball field, the debate team, the academic decathlon team, and the junior rodeo circuit. He walked the halls of Jeff Davis High School as if he owned them—and, hell, he did. Every guy wanted to be him, every girl wanted to do