Title: Wild Trail
Series: Clean Slate Ranch #1
Author: A.M. Arthur
Publisher: Carina Press
Release Date: Dec 11, 2017
Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 90,000 words
Genre: Romance, cowboy romance, actor, law enforcement,
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Synopsis
Welcome to Clean Slate Ranch: home of
tight jeans, cowboy boots, and rough trails. For some men, it’s a fantasy come
true.
Mack Garrett loves the rolling hills
surrounding his Northern California dude ranch. Leading vacationers on horse
trails with his two best friends is enough—romance is definitely not in the
cards. When a sexy tourist shows up at Clean Slate, he’s as far from Mack’s
type as can be. So why is the handsome city slicker so far under his skin in
less than a day?
Roughing it in the middle of nowhere
isn’t anywhere near Wes Bentley’s idea of fun. Then he lays eyes on the
gruffest, hottest papa bear he’s ever seen. But Mack is as hard to pin down as
he looks—distant, sharp-tongued, and in desperate need of a shave. Until a
campout gone wrong strands both men in the mountains with nothing to do but get
to know each other.
Mack intends to keep his closely guarded
heart out of Wes’s very talented hands. But for a seven-day cowboy, Wes is
packing some long-term possibility. The cold country air can do wonders for
bringing bodies together—but it will take more than that to bridge the distance
between two men whose lives are worlds apart.
This book is approximately 90,000 words
One-click with confidence. This title is
part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for
with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!
Excerpt
Footsteps scuffled in the dirt. Wes
turned, expecting to see Sophie or Miles. Instead, Mack’s broad body filled his
vision. He smiled at Wes from beneath the tilted brim of his hat—a smile less
friendly, and slightly more predatory. Wes’s skin prickled with awareness.
“Doesn’t seem like you to not be
sociable,” Mack said.
“Stretching my legs,” Wes lied. Okay, so
that was partly true. He glanced around, startled to see he’d wandered a good
ten yards from the creek and the other campers.
“Don’t stretch too far. You might get
eaten by a mountain lion.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Mack shrugged one muscled shoulder.
“Can’t say as I’ve seen one myself, but I’ve seen their tracks.” Wes must have
had some kind of terror on his face, because Mack added, “They tend to stay to
the north, though, higher up in the mountains. Shouldn’t be much of a bother to
us.”
“Good.” He took a breath to calm his
suddenly racing heart, which could have been from the mountain lion scare as
much as the way Mack had taken a protective step closer. Close enough that he
could smell sweat and horse, and something deeper that was all Mack. Not
cologne. He doubted Mack wore that shit around the horses. But whatever the
smell was, it was damned intoxicating.
“You not enjoying the trip?” Mack asked
out of the blue.
“Sure. Not used to riding on a horse.”
Mack tilted his head, that smile
dimming. “You sure that’s it? A few times on the trail, you looked…I don’t
know. Sad?”
Mack had been checking him out while
they were riding? “I’m not sad, exactly. Sometimes I get inside my own head and
it isn’t a pretty place to be. All the regrets and bad choices. It’s why I
usually am the center of attention in a crowd. Talking and entertaining people
lets me not think about my problems.”
“I hear ya.” Mack shoved his hands into
his jeans pockets, pulling the material tight across his crotch. Wes couldn’t
help taking a peek at the package, nicely outlined even under denim.
Dropping to his knees and blowing the
tour guide for being kind was probably frowned upon by management, so Wes
forced his gaze back up. Mack watched him with open amusement in his eyes, even
if his lips were still flat. Curious, Wes poked out his tongue and clacked the
ball of his tongue stud against his teeth. Mack’s nostrils flared.
“Ever felt one of these against your—”
Wes glanced at Mack’s crotch “—skin?”
Mack growled. “You’re trouble.”
“In the flesh.”
“Troublemakers like you deserve
spankings,” Mack retorted, his voice low and growly.
Wes’s dick perked up. “Please, daddy.”
“Fuck.” Mack took a deliberate step
backward, big arms crossing over his chest.
“Was that an invitation?” Wes purred,
cocking his hip just so.
His only response was another growl—the
kind that made Wes’s belly tighten in anticipation of action. Instead, Mack
threw his shoulders back and said flatly, “I don’t fuck the guests.”
“Then how about after checkout on
Saturday? I won’t be a guest anymore.”
Mack’s silence said loads to the fact
that he was actually considering Wes’s offer, and hell yes, Wes would love to
bend over for Mack—a big, stallion of a man who probably fucked like a
champion.
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Meet the Author
A.M. Arthur was born and raised in the same kind of small town that she likes to write about, a stone’s throw from both beach resorts and generational farmland. She’s been creating stories in her head since she was a child and scribbling them down nearly as long, in a losing battle to make the fictional voices stop. She credits an early fascination with male friendships (bromance hadn’t been coined yet back then) with her later discovery of and subsequent love affair with m/m romance stories. A.M. Arthur’s work is available from Carina Press, Dreamspinner Press, SMP Swerve and Briggs-King Books. When not exorcising the voices in her head, she toils away in a retail job that tests her patience and gives her lots of story fodder. She can also be found in her kitchen, pretending she’s an amateur chef and trying to not poison herself or others with her cuisine experiments.Website | Facebook | Twitter | eMail
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