Every town needs a bad boy, and Wrangler’s Creek’s has been gone far too long... Getting his high school girlfriend pregnant was just one square in Roman Granger’s checkered past, but it changed him forever. When his son’s mother skipped town after the birth, Roman decided to do the same, baby Tate in tow, hoping for a fresh start. Now Roman fears his teenage son is following in his wayward footsteps, so he returns home to Wrangler’s Creek, aiming to set him straight. It’s there he encounters Tate’s cousin Mila Banchini, the good-girl opposite of Roman who’s had a crush on him since childhood. The old spark between them undeniably never died, though Roman worries it’ll only lead to heartache. But if falling for Mila is such a bad idea, why does everything about holding her feel so right? Praise for USA TODAY bestselling author Delores Fossen “Clear off space on your keeper shelf, Fossen has arrived.” —New York Times bestselling author Lori Wilde “Delores Fossen takes you on a wild Texas ride with a hot cowboy.” —New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels “You will be sold!” —RT Book Reviews on Blame It on the Cowboy “In the first McCord Brothers contemporary, bestseller Fossen strikes a patriotic chord that makes this story stand out.” —Publishers Weekly on Texas on My Mind “Fossen delivers an entertaining romance between two people with real-life issues.” —RT Book Reviews on Texas on My Mind “Fossen’s stories are known for non-stop, explosive action with nail-biting close calls.” —RT Book Reviews on The Deputy’s Redemption Branded as Trouble/ Just Like a Cowboy Delores Fossen
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Delores Fossen Contents ROMAN GRANGER KNEW there were few advantages to being a badass over the age of thirty. Especially when you had a thirteen-year-old son. But this was one of those times when he could put his bad-assery skill set to good use. “No,” he told the naked woman standing in his living room. “I don’t want whipped cream sprayed in my boxer shorts.” Roman added “the look.” The slight sneer, chin down, the stare that he hoped conveyed that this whole whipped cream thing stood no chance whatsoever of happening. The naked woman—Tiffany Ann Baker—stuck out her bottom lip in what he supposed was meant to be a playful pout, and she crooked her index finger, also playfully, for him to come to her. Roman wanted to tell her that if seeing her stark naked hadn’t already caused him to move in her direction, then a crooked finger sure wasn’t going to do the trick. “How’d you get in my house?” he asked. She smiled as if that was a good response to his snarled question. “Your housekeeper let me in before she left to do some errands. Oh, and she said to tell you that the upstairs toilet is making
