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His Ranch Hand

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Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway:

His Ranch Hand by Deanna Wadsworth

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Western Passions, Book 1

Cowboys don’t cry.

West of the Pecos, if a man shows a vulnerable side, his last glimpse of this life might be at the end of a barrel.

Cowboy and drifter, Myron Poste shrouds his life in mystery, carefully following a strict code to stay alive. Fellow ranch hand Cade Buchanan is big, hairy, and strong—not the sort of man to trifle with.

One fateful night while driving a herd of Longhorns north to Santa Fe, Cade confronts Myron. With the swiftness of a West Texas wind, desire seizes control and a passionate affair begins. Pride has always held Myron back, but he can no longer deny his submissive nature when Cade gives him just what he craves—pure, lustful dominance.

When the drive ends, they must part ways. Will the memories of their untamed passion under the big Texas sky be powerful enough to reunite them?

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kiss me sweetly


New Release Blitz Excerpt:

“Nasty habit, that,” a voice came from the shadows. Myron flinched and his stomach jumped clear into his throat. He should’ve heard the rustle of boots in the dirt or the ching-ting of spurs moments before the voice came, but he’d been so lost in memories, he hadn’t. But it wasn’t another man sneaking up on him unnoticed while he had a smoke that made his pulse quicken and his hand twitch. It was the owner of the voice. Always had hit him like that, straight in the gut. Probably always would. One more reason not to stay on for another season. “Buchanan,” Myron drawled out the name, savoring the feel of it on his tongue. Bigger than Myron, by a long shot, and thick with solid corded muscle, Cade Buchanan moved in a slow, methodical fashion. Handsome face half-concealed with a scruffy blond beard, Cade had a thick pelt of body hair to match. Myron had taken more than one peek of it in the river, when the cowboys fancied their weekly bath—or less than weekly in the case of stinky Abe. Cade was a seasoned ranch hand, not the head guy, but a decent wrangler and one hell of a rider. Myron had been lusting for his friend far longer than he cared to admit. A damn dangerous thing in his experience. If a friend learned his secret, they could turn into a mortal enemy as fast as a rattlesnake strike. Look what Myron’s own brother had done. “Hey,” Cade said, the dust of the job lying thick on his clothing. In the moonlight, his blue eyes and unbelievably even teeth flashed bright with a smile. “Evening. How was your shift?” Myron asked. Cade had been on watch—Myron shouldn’t pay any mind to Cade’s comings and goings, but he couldn’t help himself. West of the Pecos, the threat of wild cats or wolves, and the few remaining Apache braves who’d survived Cushing and his Buffalo Soldiers necessitated a night watch. Those who hadn’t been herded off to the reservation in Oklahoma were itching for a fight, still angry about the way the world had changed. “Clear as day,” Cade replied. Myron nodded. “Why ain’t you inside, Poste?” he asked, approaching the porch. Quirking one eyebrow, Myron took a puff on his smoke, the red light at the end his answer. Cade chuckled, the sound warming him all over. Buchanan was the real reason he needed to decline Chuck’s offer. He couldn’t put his body through this yearning much longer. The big man had become a true friend, and they shared common interests, and not just an affinity for horseflesh and cows. They liked Melville, Hawthorne, Twain, and Dumas, unlike some of their fellow workers who signed their name with an X. It seemed Cade even sought out his company, and sometimes he’d pat Myron’s shoulder and the touch would linger—though that could be Myron’s affection-deprived imagination. Maybe Cade was just a friendly sort who appreciated conversation with a more learned man. Myron didn’t need to infer things that most likely meant nothing. But his presence served as a constant reminder of the cravings Myron had—needs many considered damnable or hangable—which were as much a part of him as the freckles on his nose and the curls in his hair. Places for men like him did exist, if one knew where to look, the nearest one several days ride to El Paso. However a whore house or chance encounter in a back alley merely took the edge off, because he’d never been fool enough to quench his real thirsts. And now, being near Cade, his body took on a mind of its own, skin itching for a caress, lips aching for kisses, and his heart dreaming of things he didn’t have a right to—warm nights, strong arms holding him close, and a tender but firm touch. All things Myron would have to live without. Men like him didn’t get to have what everyone else did—passion, happiness, love. He offered his cigarette to Cade. Smiling, he took it. “Much obliged.” While Cade took a long drag, Myron was grateful the brim of Cade’s Stetson shielded his face, so he didn’t have to watch Cade’s pleasure as he enjoyed a hit. Tobacco was a precious commodity and they often shared a drag. Only Myron had indecent thoughts watching Cade’s mouth wrap around a cigarette the way he wished it would wrap around his cock. Or better still, Myron on his knees, servicing Cade…. Fool, stop thinking about that! Cade returned the cigarette, and Myron immediately took a drag, eager to put his lips over the paper, hoping to catch a tiny taste of Cade, maybe feel the lingering warmth of his lips. As he sucked in the sweet smoke, he pushed the images of sucking Cade’s cock from his mind. Didn’t need such distractions tonight, not on top of everything else. Especially when he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d taken to enjoying an act best left for whores anyhow. “You get those strays?” Myron asked, longing to string out this moment, the darkness providing cover so his gaze could drink its fill, without questioning eyes or knowing looks to expose his desire. “Yup.” Cade was a simple man, a bit rough around the edges and scary to some if one got on his wrong side. Myron had seen him shoulder over an angry cow and toss a rustler twenty feet, if it was an inch. The gentle giant conjured images of a grizzly, smooth and methodical. And just like a wild animal, peaceful and content at a distance, but dangerous if a man got too close—and completely unattainable. Cade gestured to the letter in his hand. “Mail come?” “Yup.” He flicked his butt to the dirt at his feet and ground it vengefully. “Somthin’ wrong?” He couldn’t hide the ache of loss in his voice. For some reason, in front of Cade, he didn’t want to. “My mother passed.” “Real sorry to hear that, Poste.” “Thanks. I-I didn’t even know she was s-sick.” Though he wished his voice hadn’t faltered, Cade’s presence calmed him, breaking down his carefully guarded wall. Behind his golden beard, Cade’s lips rolled and pursed. “Lost my mama to the fires in Richmond,” he whispered, his southern drawl illustrating just one more divide between them, his words uniting them despite it. “Hard to take, even for a well grown man.” Myron’s whole body tightened under the intensity of that stare, the notion of being a “well grown man” in Cade’s eyes, heating it beyond comfort. He shifted in the darkness to relieve the impoliteness Cade’s voice and words, hell, his very presence caused him. Even through the grief, his desire remained potent, maybe even stronger because of it. If only he could find a healing balm in the manly crush of bodies—no, best stop that musing right here. “True enough,” Myron managed. Cade’s strong hand landed on his shoulder, and their gazes locked. Myron sucked in a breath when Cade inched closer. For a desperate heartbeat, he thought Cade aimed to kiss him, so he tipped his head and held that breath. Then Cade wrapped his other arm around him in a firm, one-armed hug. It happened so fast, Myron didn’t even have the wits to savor it, and he almost thought he’d imagined it. When the heat of Cade’s chest disappeared, he didn’t know how he found the strength not to grab Cade and pull him close for a kiss, losing his grief. and reveling in the pleasure of Cade’s bigger body. Only shock from the touch and long years of showing restraint kept him from acting on those desires. “Sorry about your mama, Poste.” He stepped away, but stared right at Myron’s face, hand still on his shoulder. “You need to bend somebody’s ear, you let me know.” His hand squeezed, lingering. Myron swallowed hard, unable to look away. “I will.” Cade nodded and smiled. “I’ll leave you to it.” Dropping his hand, he moved passed Myron. A shiver worked over his skin. “Th-thanks,” he managed as Cade headed into the bunkhouse. No one had touched him in such a way for a long time, friendly and innocent. When the door opened, Cade didn’t look back—why would he?—and the ruckus laughter of the other cowboys spilled out into the night, disrupting the peaceful moment. Myron’s heart and body ached, but he still had enough tobacco and pride to stay outside and roll another cigarette. 3

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About the Author:

Deanna Wadsworth might be a bestselling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. An avid reader, she also loves gardening, cooking, music, and dancing. Often she can be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes the quiet times when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships have always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.

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