Book 4 in the Buckhorn Brothers Series
Book 4 in the Buckhorn Brothers Series
In this fan-favorite story, this Buckhorn brother knows exactly what kind of woman he’s going to marry… too bad fate has other plans!
Jordan Sommerville is a healer of helpless animals, rescuer of strays, and a man who can seduce a woman with his voice alone. Not that he often does. His brothers like to tease him about holding out for a paragon of virtue, and not many in Buckhorn qualify. But when he meets Georgia, all his rules go straight out the window.
Georgia Barnes supports herself and her kids as a dancer—an exotic one. If Jordan Sommerville doesn’t like it, he can take a hike. So what if he’s the most caring, gentle, desirable man she’s ever known—he’s still a man like all the rest. Surely he can’t be as perfect as he looks—or can he?
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is Book 4 in the Buckhorn Brothers Series
The full series reading order is as follows:
- Book 1: Finally Home (Sawyer)
- Book 2: Morgan
- Book 3: Gabe
- Book 4: Jordan
- Book 5: Casey
- Book 6: Shohn
- Book 7: Garrett
- Book 8: Gray
- Book 9: Adam
- Book 10: A Buckhorn Baby
- Book 11: Tucker
- Book 12: Boone
Read An Excerpt
Slowly, so slowly Jordan hardly noticed it at first, music from a hidden stereo began to filter into the quiet. It crackled a bit, as if the speakers had been subjected to excessive volume. It started out low and easy and gradually built to a rousing tempo that made him think of the Lone Ranger series. All the men who’d previously been loud were now subdued and waiting.
The curtain parted just as the music grabbed a bouncing beat and took off like a horse given his lead. Jordan caught his breath.
A woman, slight in build except for her truly exceptional breasts, burst onto the stage in what appeared to be an aerobic display except that she moved with the music…and looked seductive as hell.
He’d seen his three sisters-in-law do similar steps while exercising, but then, his sisters-in-law didn’t have breasts like this woman, and they were always dressed in sweats when they worked out.
And they sure as certain didn’t perform for drunks.
Nearly spellbound, Jordan couldn’t pull his gaze away. His mouth opened on a deep breath, his hands curled into fists and his body tightened. The reaction surprised him and kept him off guard.
As he stared he realized the woman wasn’t exactly doing a seductive dance. But the way she moved, fluid and graceful and fast, each turn or twist or high kick keeping time to the throbbing beat, had every man in the bar—including Jordan—holding his breath, balanced on a keen edge of anticipation.
She wore a revealing costume of black lace, strategically placed fringe, and little else. The fringe glittered with jet beads that moved as she moved, drawing attention to her bouncing breasts and rotating hips. Her legs were slender, sleekly muscled. She turned her back to the bar, and the fringe on her behind did a little flip- flip-flip. Jordan’s right hand twitched, just imagining what that bottom would feel like.
He cursed under his breath. The costume covered her, and yet it didn’t. He’d seen women at the lake wearing bikinis that were much more revealing, but none that were sexier. She kept perfect time with the heavy pulsing of the music and within two minutes her shoulders and upper chest gleamed with a fine mist of sweat, making her glow. Her full breasts, revealed almost to her nipples, somehow managed to stay inside her skimpy costume, but the thought that they might not kept Jordan rigid and enrapt.
Next to him, Newton whispered, “Lord have mercy,” and the same awe Jordan felt was revealed in the older man’s voice. Jordan scowled, wishing he could send the men back outside, wishing he could somehow cover the woman up.
He didn’t want others looking at her. But he could have looked at her all night long.
His possessive urges toward a complete stranger were absurd, so he buried them away behind a dose of contempt while ignoring the punching beat of his heart.
The audience cheered, screamed, banged their thick beer mugs on the counter and on the tabletops. Yet the woman’s expression never changed. She didn’t smile, though her overly lush, wide mouth trembled slightly with her exertions. She had a mouth made for kissing, for devouring. Her lips looked soft and Jordan knew with a man’s intuition exactly how sweet they’d feel against his own mouth, his skin. Every now and then she turned in such a way that the lighting reflected in her pale gray eyes, which stared straight ahead, never once focusing on any one man.
In fact, her complete and utter disregard for her all- male audience was somehow arousing. She looked to be the epitome of sexual temptation, but didn’t care. She might have been dancing alone, in the privacy of her bedroom, for all the attention she gave to the shouting, leering spectators.
Feigning nonchalance, Jordan crossed his arms over his chest and decided to wait until her show ended before finding the proprietor. Not because she interested him. Of course not. But because right now it would be useless to start his search, being that every- one was caught up in the show.
Despite his attempt at indifference, Jordan’s gaze never left her, and every so often it seemed his heart- beat mirrored her rhythm. Beneath his skin, a strange warmth expanded, pulsed. Something about her, something elusive yet intrinsically female, called to him. He ignored the call. He was not a man drawn in by fla- grant sexuality. No, when a woman caught his attention, it was because of her gentleness, her intelligence, her morals. Unlike his brothers—who were the finest men he knew—he’d never been a slave to his libido. They’d often teased him about his staid personality, his lack of fire, because he’d made a point of keeping his composure in all things. At least most of the time.
His eyes narrowed.
Short, golden brown curls framed her face and were beginning to darken with sweat, clinging to her temples and her throat. It was an earthy look, dredging up basic primal appetites. Jordan wondered what those damp curls would feel like in his fingers, what her heated skin would taste like to his tongue. How her warmed body would feel under his, moving as smoothly to his sexual demands as it moved to the music.
As the rhythmic beat began to fade, she dropped smoothly to her knees, then her stomach. Palms flat on the floor, arms extended, she arched her body in a parody of a woman in the throes of pleasure. The move was blatantly sexual, deliberately seducing, causing the crowd to almost riot and making Jordan catch his breath.
Her face was exquisite at that moment, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, nostrils flaring. Jordan locked his jaw against the mental images filling his brain— images of him holding her hips while she rode him in just that way, taking him deep inside her body.
He wanted to banish the thoughts, but they wouldn’t budge. Anger at himself and at the woman conflicted with his growing tension.
He knew every damn man in the place was imagining the same thing and it enraged him.
In that instant her eyes slowly opened and her glittering gray gaze locked on his. Jordan sucked in a breath, feeling as though she’d just touched him in all the right places. They were connected as surely as any lovers, despite the space between them, the surround- ings and the lack of prior knowledge. Her eyes turned hot and a bit frightened as they filled with awareness.
Then she caught herself and with a lift of her chin, she swung her legs around and came effortlessly to her feet.
Scowling at the unexpected effect of her, Jordan tried, without success, to pull his gaze away. There was nothing about a mostly naked vamp dancing in a sleazy bar for the delectation of drunks that should appeal to him.
So why was he so aroused?
End of Excerpt
is available in the following editions:
Out of Print Editions
September 1, 2000
March 1, 2007
October 13, 2014
September 1, 2002