Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
REINE
One minute I’m minding my own business in a diner, trying to mentally prepare for the biggest horse auction of the year, and the next, I’m being practically undressed by the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen. He stared. I frowned. And like an idiot, I ran away before he could even say hello.
Imagine my horror when Mr. Scorching Stare walks into the auction house and buys my prize stallion for an obscene amount of money.
Turns out, he isn’t just a pretty face in denim. He’s Cole Carrington. The Cole Carrington. Texas billionaire, ranching royalty, and currently, the man insisting on taking me to lunch. One meal turns into an entire day, and suddenly, my quiet life in Montana feels a lot less satisfying without his southern drawl in my ear. He’s persistent, charming, and looking at me like I’m the only prize he really wants to take back to Texas. I’m already falling, but can a small-town girl really handle a billionaire cowboy’s world?
COLE
I came to Montana for a horse. Just a horse. But the second I walked into that diner and saw the curvy blonde with the killer glare, the plan changed. I didn’t know her name, but I knew one thing for damn I wasn’t leaving this state without her.
Finding out she’s the one selling the stallion I’m here to buy? That’s just fate doing me a solid.
Reine Rockwell is everything I didn’t know I needed—fiery, sweet, and absolutely breathtaking. I bought her horse, but that was the easy part. Now, I have to convince her that the spark between us isn’t just a fluke. I’m finding every excuse to stay up north, but I’m done playing games. It’s time to show her that this Texas billionaire plays for keeps. I’ve already corralled the horse; now I just need to corral her heart.
In Silver Spoon Falls, love has a way of working itself out in unexpected ways. But nothing could prepare these rough cowboys for the wild, curvy women coming their way.
To tame their hearts and find forever, they'll fight harder than they ever have. Luckily, the sweat in their veins, the dirt on their boots, and the grit in their bones has taught them everything they need to know to go toe-to-toe with fate and come out unconquered
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
REINE
I’m sitting in my usual corner booth at Molly’s Diner, pretending to review my notes for tomorrow’s horse auction. I act like I’m focused on my work, but I’m only half-listening to my own internal monologue. Next to Thunderbolt’s name, I’ve written “DO NOT FUCK THIS UP” in highlighter underneath his stats. Yeah. No pressure or anything.
My heart lurches as I stare at the neon stars next to Thunderbolt’s name. Damnit. I hate this. The entire ranch is counting on me to get this sale right, and all I want to do is lock Thunderbolt in the back pasture and throw the key in the creek.
I scrub a hand across my face, pretending it’s just dust making my eyes sting. Who am I kidding? I freaking love that horse. He’s more loyal than ninety percent of the humans I’ve met. But feelings don’t pay overdue electric bills or keep Grams’ ancient furnace from exploding on a cold Montana night or keep the asshole’s trying to steal our ranch at bay. If we don’t get top dollar for Thunderbolt, we lose everything. My chest squeezes tight. Tomorrow is gonna fucking suck.
My skin starts prickling, and I glance up, telling myself it’s just my nerves, but I’m lying. Fuck. I know someone’s looking at me.
I try not to glance up right away, but I totally cave after three seconds. That’s all the self-control I’ve got. My eyes go straight to the far corner, and that’s when I see the hottest cowboy I’ve ever encountered in real life. Holy hell. He’s a walking wet dream, straight out of every romance cover I’ve ever hidden in my nightstand. Square jaw, dark stubble, and a mouth I want to kiss more than my next breath. His hair’s messy in a “I just rolled out of bed and still look hot as fuck” way, even with the top flattened by the black cowboy hat that’s now sitting in the center of the table. Wide shoulders stretch his plaid shirt to the limit. I can see his chest under the open collar, tan and probably carved out of marble. And those hands. Big. Capable.
He’s got this look in his eye, too. Slow and lazy, but underneath it, I swear he’s plotting something. My pulse trips over itself. He smirks, and I about melt through the cracked vinyl booth. I’m completely, embarrassingly obsessed.
He’s sitting in a booth on the far side of the small diner, acting like he owns the place, one arm stretched across the back of his booth, sleeves pushed up to show off sun-tanned forearms with elaborate tattoos. He smirks again when our eyes meet, and I swear my girly parts wake up and celebrate while my face goes up in flames.
Holy shit. I look away so fast I nearly give myself whiplash and pretend to check my phone. Then I re-highlight Thunderbolt’s notes like a psycho with a marker addiction. But I can feel his gaze burning straight through my skull.
I risk another peek and get nailed by that same look. My pulse hammers. He’s still smirking, like he’s got a direct line to my dirty thoughts and approves.
I barely resist the urge to fan myself. Get your shit together, Reine.
When he looks away to answer his phone, I decide it’s time to turn tail and run. I gather my stuff fast, trying not to drop my phone or my dignity, but I’m pretty sure my face is tomato-red.
Outside, I suck in a lungful of cold Montana air. It doesn’t help. If anything, I’m even more flustered. I jam my notes in the passenger seat, hop in my truck, and gun it back toward the ranch with my thighs pressed tightly together.
The drive home is all rolling hills and frostbitten grass, the kind of landscape that looks boring in postcards but feels like a punch in the gut if you ever leave it. I’m not sentimental, but there’s something about the way the morning sun catches on the crust of ice along the fence posts that makes me want to punch a hole in the universe and climb through to a place where nothing ever changes. Instead, I roll down the window and let the wind whip my hair into knots, because it’s better than thinking about strangers with dangerous smiles.
The Rolling R Ranch is only ten miles from town, but it might as well be ten years. Nothing about it says “money” anymore, not since Dad left and the bank started circling like vultures. The barn could use a good coat of paint, and the gate groans every time I drag it open. But the horses don’t care, and neither does Louise, my grandmother and the current boss in charge of everything but my love life.
I park the truck and grab my notes, hoping Grams won’t notice my current state. No such luck. She spots me from halfway across the corral and gives me her patented “don’t think you’re fooling me, kid” stare.