First Kiss with a Cowboy: Includes a bonus novella Read online

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

  Copyright © 2020 by Sara Richardson

  Bonus novella Cowboy to the Rescue copyright © 2019 by A. J. Pine

  Cover design and illustration by Daniela Medina

  Cover copyright © 2020 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Forever

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

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  First mass market edition: May 2020

  Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-1715-8 (mass market), 978-1-5387-1714-1 (ebook)

  E3-20200408-DANF-ORI

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  About Sara Richardson

  Also by Sara Richardson

  Praise for Sara Richardson

  Bonus Story: COWBOY TO THE RESCUE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Discover More

  About A.J. Pine

  Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more.

  Tap here to learn more.

  In loving memory of Grandma VanMeter

  Chapter One

  Jane Harding paused in front of the fine-dining restaurant with a name she couldn’t even pronounce.

  The sleek, dark windows, old-world brick façade, and the line of Mercedes and Teslas lined up in front of the valet stand only proved this restaurant was far above her pay grade as an adjunct professor at Cal Poly. Her agent had summoned her here for dinner, which meant she was about to get either really great news—like her editor loved the new book she’d turned in, or extremely terrible news—like her editor had hated it and Jane’s agent wanted to soften the blow with good wine.

  Jane’s heart made a sudden leap for her throat. Admittedly, she’d struggled to put two sentences together in her second attempt at a novel. The first novel? No problem. But there had also been no pressure—she hadn’t had an agent or editor yet. She’d simply written for herself, and then had sent the manuscript off never expecting it would get published, let alone become a bestseller. After the success, her publisher had been so excited and asked that another manuscript be delivered within six months so they could keep the momentum going.

  The problem was, Jane seemed to have lost her momentum and, in its place, lived a lingering fear that she was simply a one-hit wonder.

  Glancing down, she straightened her blue silk blouse and smoothed the black slacks she’d spent a small fortune on so she could dress the part of the successful writer. Whatever her agent said tonight, Jane had to make this writing career work. Her contract teaching literature at the university was up as of last week, and after her trip home to Colorado in a few weeks, she had no job to come back to.

  “Confidence,” she murmured, as though saying it would somehow help her build it. All she had to do was march in there and act like a real writer, like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she belonged in this world of fancy restaurants and Teslas and Mercedes.

  Whirling, Jane made a move for the doors, but one of the parking attendants bumped into her and knocked her purse off her shoulder. It fell to the ground with a thud, everything spilling out onto the sidewalk—her wallet, wadded tissues and receipts, tampons, and part of an old apple she’d eaten between classes yesterday and had forgotten to throw away.

  “Oh no!”

  The attendant hurried off without so much as a sorry while Jane squatted to collect her things. What was that? Oh geez. Her face flamed as she picked up the tattered condom wrapper that one of her students must’ve slipped in her purse as a joke because it definitely wasn’t hers. So much for looking sophisticated. All around her, people hustled into the restaurant averting their eyes as though they couldn’t see her predicament.

  Ducking her head, she managed to shove everything back into her purse and scrambled to her feet again before practically diving into the restaurant to escape the stares and whispers from people waiting in the valet line.

  The restaurant’s interior put out a dim, calming vibe, but her heart continued to race, and her cheeks pulsed with embarrassment. Hopefully no one in here had seen the spectacle through those dark windows. She rushed to the hostess station doing her best to look detached and annoyed rather than humiliated.

  “I’m here to meet Caroline Benning,” she said as briskly as her very successful agent would have.

  “Of course.” The young woman picked up two menus. “Ms. Benning called and said she was running a few minutes late, but she would like you to be seated.” She led Jane past a gigantic fish tank with all varieties of tropical fish swimming around and into the intimate dining room.

  At seven o’clock it seemed nearly every table was full—a few couples who looked like they were celebrating something, a few tables of what looked to be businesspeople continuing their workday over appetizers and wine. She could really use a glass of wine right now…

  “This will be your table.” The hostess gestured to a table for two in the corner. “Ms. Benning has already ordered a bottle for wine you,” she said, pulling out Jane’s chair. “It will be here momentarily.”

  “Oh. Great.” Jane sat. A whole bottle of wine for just her? Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to be good news.

  “Your waiter will be right with you.” The hostess handed her a leather-bound menu and then regally walked in the opposite direction. Jane took a second to look it over, but still found it difficult to focus. Between the nerves and the lingering embarrassment from the scene on the sidewalk, she couldn’t quite decide what she wanted to
eat. She set down the menu in front of her and let her eyes wander.

  An older couple sat nearby, and they appeared to be fighting. The man had a scowl on his face while the woman leaned halfway over the table and said something, her jaw rigid and her eyes narrowed.

  Hmmm. Maybe he’d had an affair. Or it was possible his wife had made the reservations here and he’d forgotten it was their anniversary.

  The woman caught her eavesdropping, so she moved her gaze to the table of nicely dressed businessmen she’d walked past earlier, and one of them was staring directly at her.

  She quickly looked down. She must be mistaken. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had stared at her like that. Well, there was Alex from the math department, but he didn’t count. Jane peeked up again, and yes, the man was definitely still staring. He smiled a little when their eyes met, and Jane’s cheeks filled with an entirely different type of heat.

  Smile back. She thought she did, but was it too big? Not big enough? She didn’t know, but the man said something to his friends and stood up. Oh wow. He was walking over to her. This is exactly the kind of meet-cute she’d write about in her romance novels! A man spots a woman from across the room—okay, from a few tables over—and then, overtaken by this instant chemistry between them, he makes his way over. Except that had never happened to her.

  “Hi there.”

  He was so handsome. Tall with chestnut-colored hair and a squarish jaw. Jane peered up into eyes the same color as the ocean outside. Speak! she reminded herself. “Hi.” Geez. Why’d she have to be so shy? Why couldn’t she come up with something witty to say? If she were sitting behind her computer she could, that was for sure.

  “I’m not sure how to say this…” The man leaned in closer. He even smelled good.

  It’s okay, Jane silently coaxed. Just say it. Maybe he wanted to tell her he felt this strange connection to her when he’d looked at her. Maybe he was going to ask her out. Lord knew it had been a while since she’d been on a date…

  “You have a huge rip in the back of your pants.”

  Jane blinked up at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Your pants,” he murmured discreetly. “There’s a huge rip in the seam. I figured you didn’t know. I probably wouldn’t have noticed but your underwear is…pretty colorful.”

  Oh, sweet Jesus. She’d worn her bright red underwear with the silver polka dots! Her lucky underwear—the pair she’d been wearing the day she’d signed the contract with her publisher. Obviously, her luck was running out. Her scalp suddenly burned. It must’ve happened when she’d crouched down outside. How the heck did a two-hundred-dollar pair of pants rip right up the seam?

  “I figured you should know,” the man said awkwardly. “I mean, I would want to.”

  “Right. Yes.” Jane swallowed a fireball of humiliation. “Thank you for the information.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled at her. “I hope you have a good night.”

  “Uh-huh. You too.” A good night? Seriously? She was not going to have a good night. In fact, things could only get worse from here. This is why she rarely went out. These kinds of things always seemed to happen to her. It was almost as bad as that night—the one time she’d let her guard down and it was still the most embarrassing moment of her life. Jane started to gather her purse. She should leave before her agent got there. She could bolt out of the restaurant and never show her face here ag—

  “Sorry I’m so late.” Caroline appeared seemingly out of thin air. The blunt cut of her red hair seemed to fit her curt personality. The woman was always so efficient and direct. Even her wardrobe exuded a certain sharpness. Jane imagined she had a whole closet of black dresses at home and a second closet just for her scarves.

  “The wine isn’t even here yet?” Caroline barked. “Are you kidding me?” She slid into her chair across the table in a huff. “I suppose we won’t get our dinner for another two hours either.”

  Two hours? Jane glanced over at the man who’d informed her about the underwear situation. He seemed to have completely forgotten all about her and was chatting with a woman who’d come over to their table. Ugh. Of course. That woman probably didn’t understand needing lucky underwear at all. Jane refocused on Caroline. She needed this night to be over. “Actually. I’m not going to be able to stay for dinner. I’m…um…not feeling well.” It wasn’t a lie. Her stomach churned and a headache had started to pound in her temples. That’s what being the center of attention always did to her. It made her want to hide. She needed a nice hot bath and some ice cream for dinner.

  Caroline’s frown indicated she had no sympathy for Jane’s health concerns. “But we have important things to discuss, my dear. Timely, important things that simply can’t wait.” Her glossy red lips pursed together.

  And there it was. The bad news her intuition had told her to expect. She might as well get this over with, split pants or not. “They don’t like it, do they? They don’t like the book?” Of course her editor hadn’t liked it. Jane didn’t even like it.

  “They hate it,” Caroline clarified. “I hated it. What the hell happened, Jane?” Her agent’s resonant voice carried. “This book is light-years behind your last one.”

  “I don’t know,” Jane half whispered, doing her best to keep the conversation between the two of them. “I guess I have writer’s block or something.”

  “Well you need to get over it.” Caroline paused when a server approached.

  “One bottle of Chateau Margaux Pavillon Rouge.” The man made a grand presentation out of opening the bottle and pouring a taste into the wineglass before handing it to Caroline.

  Her agent sniffed at the rim of the glass, her nose wrinkled, and then she swirled the glass before taking a microscopic sip. “I hate it.” Caroline handed the glass back to the server. “Bring me the Caymus Special Selection Cabernet Sauvignon instead. And bring us a free cheese plate for waiting so long,” she called to his retreating back.

  Normally the rude tone would’ve made Jane cringe but given what she’d been through in the last hour she was all out of cringes.

  “The only thing they liked in the whole book was your hero,” Caroline said getting back to business. “Keep him and scrap everything else.”

  “The hero? Are you sure?” The hero was actually the one thing she wouldn’t mind completely scrapping.

  “What’s not to love?” Caroline demanded. “The hero is every woman’s dream—rugged, sexy, confident.”

  Or a total show-off. Jane would never admit it in a million years, but she’d based the hero on Toby Garrett. And it was true, he was every woman’s fantasy. She’d gone to high school with the cowboy, and he wasn’t only charming and good-looking. He was also crazy smart, a straight-A student, and a star athlete. Oh, and he happened to be the one who’d tempted her to let her guard down that night.

  She hadn’t intended to write a hero based on Toby, but between the looming deadline and the writer’s block, she’d suddenly found herself looking up old yearbook photos of him and Googling his stats out on the rodeo circuit. She’d rather not explore why.

  Not that she had to worry about anyone finding out. Her writing career was a secret—protected by a pseudonym. Not even her mom or her best friend, Beth, knew about it.

  When she’d first started writing, it had simply been a way for her to escape, to take the edge off the hours she spent by herself after she’d finished college and grad school and no longer had a rigorous schedule to keep her so busy. She’d filled her world with friends…only they weren’t real.

  On a whim, she’d submitted the manuscript to a contest and she’d ended up with a publishing contract. She signed it on one condition—she would never have to reveal her true identity. Knowing no one else would ever learn she was the one behind those words had given her a courage she’d never had. It ensured no one would ever see more of her than she wanted them to.

  “The hero stays.” Caroline’s glare dared Jane to argue. “You have six weeks to tur
n in a new book or I’m afraid they won’t offer you another contract.”

  Jane choked on a sip of water. “Six weeks?” There was no way. She hadn’t been able to write a solid story in six months, let alone six weeks. “I’m leaving to spend three weeks at my mom’s ranch in Colorado. My best friend is getting married. We’re going to be so busy with all the events—”

  Caroline’s smile looked more terrifying than friendly. “Well it sounds like that might be the perfect opportunity for you to find some inspiration.”

  Chapter Two

  Toby Garrett sat at his mother’s breakfast table finishing off a plate of fried eggs and potatoes and enough bacon to hike up his cholesterol.

  “It’s so wonderful to have you home.” His mother piled another helping of potatoes onto his plate, but he had no intention of eating them. He had a diet to stick to. Okay, so it wasn’t an official diet, but he couldn’t start eating himself into a coma at every meal or he’d never be able to get back out on the circuit in time to qualify for nationals.

  In the silence, his mother raised her eyebrows slightly as though waiting for the obligatory response.

  “It’s nice to be home,” Toby said pouring himself another cup of coffee. It wasn’t. He wasn’t supposed to be home. He was supposed to be climbing on the back of a bull this weekend in Oklahoma, but at only three months post-op from rotator cuff surgery, he wouldn’t be doing that again for a long time. If ever.

  The doctor’s warning was on constant replay in his head these days. Some people never regain full strength…

  He wasn’t some people. He was a bull rider, damn it. A good one too. And this injury-enforced time-out was making him crazy.

  “What have you got planned today?” his mother asked, sitting across from him.

  “Oh, well let’s see…” He pretended to mentally sort through the many options he had. “Actually, nothing. Because you refuse to let me lift a finger around here.” He’d offered to repaint fences and muck out the stables and tear down that old shed his dad had been promising to demolish for years, but his mother wouldn’t hear of it. She’d prefer he sit around all day while she cooked and cleaned for him.