Horses. Rodeos. Barrel racing. Money. Marriage.

Rosalind Dunne, a twenty-five year old barrel racer, is in need of a husband, to gain her inheritance in full, to open a horse sanctuary. While in Las Vegas at a competition, she plots a way to outsmart the old fashion marriage stipulation put on her trust by her grandfather.

In Vegas to attend a friend’s wedding, confirmed bachelor, Allan Smith, owner of a New York brokerage firm, wakes up in the morning to find a wedding band on his finger. The problem is he can’t remember the ceremony or the bride.

Rosalind and Allan don’t want to be married or fall in love. But does a City Boy become a cowboy and find true love with a Rodeo Queen?

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Release Date: June 18, 2024
Genre: Contemporary Romance

~ A Pink Satin Romance ~

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Excerpt

Prologue

Dear Rosalind,

If you’re reading this letter, it’s because I’ve passed away. I’ve assigned Sam as your new trustee. I’m sorry. It was the only way. I had to make sure you’d end up happy and not alone later in life.

Remember I love you and this is done out of love. You’re a very wealthy young lady. Every young and old cowboy is gonna want to marry you. So, I’ve laid down some stipulations you will need to follow in order to use your trust fund.

On your thirtieth birthday, you’ll be in full charge of all the money. Until such time, a monthly allowance will be deposited into your bank account in the amount of thirty-thousand dollars. If you marry before turning thirty, the trust fund will also be turned over to you, so long as your husband is not involved in the rodeo in any form. If your new husband has anything to do with the rodeo, the trust fund will be disbursed in the amount of ten thousand dollars yearly until you reach your thirtieth birthday.

You’re probably very upset. That’s to be expected, but don’t do anything you’ll regret later. You’re headstrong like your father was at your age. I want you to live, to have children, and to be able to grow old with them. I don’t want your children having to grow up with only one parent or none at all the way you did.

Love, Grandpa Rodney

Chapter One

Rosalind Dunne led Dawn, her four-year-old golden Quarterhorse mare, to the heavy metal gates. Many fellow competitors commented on how beautiful the horse was. Dawn’s light champagne coloring with a touch of cream on her forehead down to her nose and her hind legs just above her hooves were two of the reasons she’d chosen her on sight. Plus, her mane and tail matched, but were a deep metallic gold coloring, reminding her of the early morning sunlight.

She nodded, acknowledging their compliments. The hum and excitement from the crowd inside the Las Vegas Sagebrush Ranch Arena for the Annual Barrel Race, brought on a smile and a feeling of being home.

“Watch out for turn three,” Sam said as he took hold of the bridle.

“I’ve heard. Other riders have complained to the officials about some rowdy dudes in the grandstands.” His years of being on the circuit with her multi-titled grandfather gave him the expertise she needed to compete.

“Be careful and remember to count.”

“Yes, I will.” Rosalind gave him a smile. Sam’s broad shoulders and stocky build were that of a man who’d ridden hard in the day. Even though he was her guardian because of the trust her grandfather created, Sam took his responsibilities too seriously and worried too much. As far as she knew they’d been fierce rivals until they became too old to compete and became business friends.

“I’m headed to have a talk with the officials.”

Sam patted Dawn’s hindquarters and Rosalind observed him taking deep, labored breaths before he walked away.

Was he sick? He hadn’t said anything.

She forced herself to concentrate on her run in the clover leaf pattern. With the first barrel to her right, she’d circle it and go across to the second barrel, and then on to the last barrel straight ahead of her. But her mood veered to disgust as she glanced at the crowd. Her gaze narrowed when she spotted the group of boisterous spectators obnoxiously heckling each barrel rider at turn three, the one straight ahead of her.

All men. It figured.

One, two, four, eight, nine in the bunch. They were whistling, hollering, and waving with what she guessed were newly acquired bandanas and cowboy hats.

Rosalind angrily kicked at the dirt as she waited for her number to be called. Definitely not real cowboys. OnlyWannabes.

Why today? She couldn’t afford to lose.

Horses and people were counting on her. If she won today’s forty-thousand-dollar purse, she’d be able to give the money to the real-estate agent, Mr. Kennedy.

She’d missed his call this morning due to poor cell service. He’d left a message, informing her Mr. Hillsboro wasn’t willing to wait any longer for her to make good on her guarantee to buy the land. The down payment had to be paid with the signed purchase agreement and a closing date set before the end of the year, or the land would be put on the market.

Six months ago, she was ecstatic when Dwight Hillsboro, the owner of the adjacent ranch to hers, called and gave her the first chance to purchase his seven-hundred acres. They hadn’t discussed a timeframe, but apparently now he wanted to sell fast.

“Good luck, Rosalind.”

She blinked and saw David Billy, the number one bronco-rider, standing next to her. She tried not to stare at him. He was one cowboy that could do damage to a heart with his dark brown eyes, thick eyelashes, and lazy smile.

“Thanks. You ridin’ last today?”

“No, I drew fifth. Not worried though. Careful around your last turn.”

“I will. Sam went to talk to the officials.”

“Okay, make the dirt fly.” David winked and strutted away.

He was so damn handsome. Blue jeans hugged his ass and thighs. It was too bad he was already taken.His wife, Suzy, was definitely one lucky cowgirl to have that fit body in her bed every night. Rosalind could even see herself relinquishing the land to be married to the likes of him.

Time wasn’t on her side nor was it her friend. Instead, a must-win situation had cropped up. The land couldn’t slip through her fingers, not when she was so close to purchasing it. Everything would’ve been completed last month if Sam hadn’t reminded her about her grandpa’s will and his old-school marriage stipulation.

The parcel of land she wanted...no, needed, wasn’t going to sit idle for her to turn thirty. At twenty-five, she couldn’t wait five more years to be given permission to use her money whenever she wanted or needed it. She’d been through hell the last two years since her grandpa had passed away. His unexpected death due to a heart attack had left her numb and lost. He’d been her only family after her parents had died. Running the ranch had been left to her too. Bills, payroll, and upkeep had been her life, racing whenever she could.

Then a plan had formed in her head. If she could get a hold of the bulk of her inheritance, she’d have the freedom to do what she wanted to do, which was to follow her mother’s dream of saving horses.

Once everything fell into place, she’d be able to get the ball rolling for a sanctuary on behalf of ageing and abused horses. There were several animals on her wait list. It all came down to the land. It was everything.

Damn it.

The horses needed her. She wanted that land.

Dawn snorted. It was a sure sign, her anger was showing, and Rosalind sensed it. “Easy, girl. Sorry, I’m just mad.”

She tried to calm her raising temper and let up on the reins. She had to get her hands on her trust fund by the end of the year. How could Grandpa have been so cruel?

Sam came up to her. “They ain’t gonna do anything. You’ll have to ride with them in the stands.” He appeared winded and then coughed.

“You, okay?”

“Don’t you go worrying about me. Could be the onset of a cold.”

“Sam, Mr. Kennedy called to—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it. Mr. Kennedy can wait. Concentrate on winning.”

He was right. She had to focus on the run. She put the land, the realtor, and her irritation on the rear burner, clearing her mind.

Mounting up and squeezing Lizzie, as she liked to call the saddle horn, she settled into the leather. Suddenly, the drone of the crowd grew louder. If she took a wild guess, it would be another rider must’ve taken turn three.

Those men had to be drunker than a peach orchard sow or crazier than a parrot eatin’ stick candy.

Without missing a stride, Rosalind prodded Dawn closer to the posts to have a clearer view. The arena had seating on three sides. It wasn’t the norm, but in Las Vegas, it was all about the money and spectators. The next rider raced around the barrels. She recognized the woman’s black hair. Alisa Highland. Instead of watching her rival and friend, as she should’ve, her gaze homed in on the men.

One of them wore a sign, ‘About to Be Hitched.’

At least it was his choice. He wasn’t being forced into marriage, like she was if she wanted to get her inheritance.

Boy, to be that lucky.

As she watched, Alisa approached the third barrel. All at once the party of men stood, waving and howling. Her horse spooked and slowed down.

Not good.

Alisa reacted and maneuvered her horse quickly. It was too late! The damage was done. She’d lost precious time.

Where were the officials? They should kick those men out. Someone or someone’s horse could get hurt.

Stupid wannabes.

Her gloved fingers tightened on the reins. Dawn jerked her head in protest. Disgust replaced Rosalind’s smile. She reached down, petted her mare’s neck. On the edge of refusing to ride unless the officials did something, she sensed being watched. She scanned the crowd. Her search ended when she reached the group. One of the men stood. His bold, unbroken stare gave her butterflies in the pit of her belly.

Omigod.

He’s so hot he could melt ice cubes on a cold day in Minnesota. He didn’t compare to the tough, good-looking bull, bareback, and bronco riders she was around all the time. This man was different.

Blond hair.

I need to breathe, damn it.

His sun-kissed locks, however, stuck out like a casino in a church district. Her smile turned to a chuckle when she noticed the way his midnight black Stetson was angled on his head. Didn’t the man know wearing his hat that way meant he was single and looking for company?

Her lips curled upward, and she returned his stare. Tipping her hat to him, she looked away first, not liking the unsettling feeling he gave her.

“You ready, Rosalind?” Sam patted her leg.

“Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Focus on the run. And only the run.” Sam tightened the cinch, ensuring the saddle wouldn’t slip during her run, before stepping away.

She nodded and ran through her routine checklist mode. First, she brushed at her fringed western shirt to make sure it was tucked into her jeans. Absentmindedly, she touched each of the white-coated snaps, ensuring all were fastened properly. Next, she tugged her hat string tight for good measure and turned her head to feel the weight of her braid on her back.

Everything was set.

It was one of the things her grandpa had drilled into her. She couldn’t spare any deductions for improper dress. The National Barrel Horse Association judges were strict when it came to points concerning the dress codes and could fine members up to twenty-five dollars per violation.

“Rosalind Dunne, rider number fifteen, to the gate.”

With her legs, she nudged Dawn forward to the starting line and turned her attention to the signal. The flag was her center point, second to the words. She waited and waited.

“Ready,” the voice paused. “Go!”

The flag dropped.

Dawn didn’t need any urging. She tore off like the proverbial bat out of hell. It was why Rosalind never had to use spurs or kick her horse at the start of the run.

Fifteen, sixteen, and turn, Rosalind mindlessly counted off in her head to assure herself she was in time with each long stride Dawn took. They rounded barrel one and then barrel two with no problems. As they neared the third barrel, the dreaded turn, she heard the shouts, whistles, and the catcalls. She used all her experience to avoid a catastrophe during the turn.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalind didn’t miss seeing the blond-haired man stand and wave. For a split second, her attention was taken away from Dawn as the man lurched, ready to fall face first into the arena. She braced herself for disaster, except at the last second, another spectator saved the falling man.

Even with the distraction, she completed the hairpin turn with the stirrups nearly touching the ground. She steadied herself for the last leg of the run by loosening up on the reins and giving Dawn her head. They blasted toward home at a dead run.

With unbelievable speed, Dawn ran.

Her adrenalin was high. She loved the feel of the air on her face and the power of Dawn beneath her.

“Fifteen-point-nine seconds for Rosalind Dunne.” The announcer shouted into the intercom.

Hot damn. Record time. I did it.

She’d secured a coveted spot at the BFA World Championship Barrel Futurity, in December. She let loose a cry of happiness. Her heart was pounding so fast she could hardly breathe.

She wouldn’t have to enter any local events with limited purses and could concentrate on the ranch and opening the horse sanctuary.

Somehow, Rosalind managed to keep her composure, smile and raise her arms in victory. She rode Dawn to the center of the arena and waved to the crowd. The young mare danced in time to cheers and applause.

During Dawn’s cool-down, in an adjacent corral, a crowd of well-wishers gathered. Most were other riders, and some were spectators. This was the part she didn’t like, but she put on a smile.

“I’m so happy for you.”

“She’s a mighty fast filly.”

“Good run, missy.”

“Maybe next time you’ll give me a chance.”

Rosalind turned, recognizing the voice from the last comment, and dismounted. Alisa Highland was walking her horse and had come up to her. “Not this year. I’m going all the way.”

“I’ll be there to take it from you,” Alisa stated.

Before she could reply, others came up to her. Between the handshakes and conversation, she curiously glanced toward the stands. She couldn’t stop her eyebrows from raising in astonishment. The same man who’d almost fallen into the arena had followed her and was standing in the stands staring at her. He seemed to be weaving a little, but his strong gaze never faltered.

Who was this stranger?

She didn’t recognize him or anyone in his group. Was he and his gang here for entertainment? Or was he a city boy in town for the weekend?

To her dismay, more rodeo participants jostled closer, blocking her view of him as they shrieked out more praises and trapped her. By the time she broke free, it was time for her to receive her trophy and take a victory lap. When she rode Dawn back to the main arena and galloped around the ring, she noticed the blond, blue-eyed man and his friends were gone.

Damn, back to square one.

He might’ve been her ticket to financial freedom.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

Her plan to marry while she was here seemed less likely now, with no candidate. She frowned. A roll of nausea hit her stomach at the thought of all of her inheritance sitting in the bank, with her unable to get at it.

All she had to do was get married.

She’d have full control of her money then.

The evening was still young. Plenty of time to find a greenhorn to marry her for money and agree to divorce her for a huge bonus. Her plan ought to work. It was simple enough. The marriage would be a business agreement, no night of bliss, and no husband to go home to.

Traditional marriages only caused heartaches.

 

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