Does the dancer get her rancher? This spicy second-chance cowboy romance is finally out!

Title: Second Chance with the Rancher
Series: A Young Sisters Novel
Author: Whitley Cox
Genre: Close Proximity, Western, Ranch, Military, Hero with PTSD, Dancing Heroine
Release Date: May 13, 2023
When all you thought you ever wanted isn’t at all what you need.
When Mieka Young breaks her arm in a freak accident, her dance company takes it as an opportunity to not renew her contract, calling her “too old” to dance for them. Now, literally broken and jobless, she retreats to her sister’s ranch in Colorado for a little rest and relaxation, along with some much-needed clarity.
However, the ranch is not all horses, goats, and newborn foals. There, Mieka must face a part of her past that still holds a tender space in her heart. She must figure out where Nate fits in her world, if at all. Ranch life isn’t for her, no matter how hard he tries to convince her otherwise.
Nate Harris falls in love every Friday night and falls out of it every Saturday morning. However, one hot night last summer everything changed when he and Mieka finally succumbed to their chemistry. Then she vanished, returning to work dancing on cruise ships, and living her best life. Only, now, Mieka is back at the ranch and Nate’s determined to show her the love, purpose and beautiful future she’s searching for.

Nate had given her a lot to think about on their drive, and no matter how much Mieka tried not to, her eyes kept drifting to his finger. Yeah, that finger as it gripped the steering wheel. Then, when she’d realize she was staring at his hands—particularly that finger—she’d move her gaze elsewhere, and of course, her eyes drifted down to the front of his jeans where a big peg apparently lived.

Damnit, she was in a dry spell. Like a major dry spell. Her stubborn cat was starting to pace and meow and demand attention. Not to mention those horny hornets in her belly that buzzed every time Nate smiled at her, or she imagined those big hands of his holding onto her hips as he plowed into her from behind over a hay bale.

Even though she’d been sleeping with that bartender back on the ship, it’d been over a month since they’d done anything, mostly because their shifts didn’t align. And when they did do things, he’d been mediocre at best. The man had no tongue skills, and zero stamina. Most of the time, Mieka had to get herself off after he came.

Yeah, Nate was right. A gentleman should always let the woman come first so she’s not riding a soft dick, limping her way to her own finish line.

Staring out the window, determined not to look at his finger or crotch anymore, she wasn’t even aware of the fact that she was chewing her nails until Nate’s voice broke her out of her trance. “I didn’t know you had ADHD,” he said. “When did you get diagnosed with that?”

She spun around to face him, but then dropped her eyes to her hands and the horrible chewed, red and tender fingertips. “When I was five.”

“And dance helps?”

“It keeps my mind focused and my body busy. I’m also medicated, which helps, too.” She shrugged. “It’s just a part of my life and who I am.” Her gaze slid to his. “But it’s also responsible for my fidgetiness, mood swings, impulsiveness and how my self-esteem can quickly take a massive nose-dive in a literal second.” Heaving a big sigh, she balled her sore hands into tight fists. Well, she did it with one hand and attempted to with the other. “I just do the best I can. Every day is a struggle. Just some days are more of a struggle than others.”

“If I’m doing anything to exacerbate that struggle, please let me know.” The sincerity in his blue eyes and his voice was touching.

“You’re not,” she said. “You’re keeping me distracted from wallowing… for the most part. So, thank you.”

They were already back at the ranch, so he turned off the road and rumbled the big truck and horse trailer down the laneway. A quick glance at the clock on the dash said it was just after five-thirty, so of course the petting farm would be closed to the public by now, which explained the empty yard and parking lot.

Nate exhaled. “I know it brings in money, and it was my idea, but fuck, it gets claustrophobic when we have the petting farm open. People, big and small, are everywhere.” He pulled the truck up in front of the barn, put it in park, and turned off the engine before hopping out.

Mieka did the same and met him behind the trailer.

“Feel free to go do what you need to do, Minx. I’ve gotta get this stuff out of the trailer and into the corresponding crates.” He grinned wide at her. “Good thing you were organized enough to color code everything ahead of time so I know which chair goes to which cabin.” He opened the trailer door to reveal boxes piled up to the ceiling. The bed of the truck was full of bedding, kitchen stuff, décor and everything else. The furniture was in the trailer and even then, not everything fit, so they paid for express shipping and the rest would arrive by tomorrow.

And just like he said, she had given each cabin a corresponding color code and put a big sticker of that color on the appropriate furniture. She wasn’t always this organized, but she was really passionate about this project, and appreciative of the trust Nate and Asher had put in her, so she was determined not to mess it up.

“I can help,” she said, watching Asher and Triss come down the front steps of the house.

“You’ve already done so much,” Nate replied. “It’s all good. Besides, we don’t want to hurt your arm.”

Asher sidled up beside his brother and whistled when he looked inside the trailer. “Don’t want to know what this cost us.”

“Then don’t ask,” Nate chuckled, hauling out a huge box that was part of a bed frame.

The two men went to work removing everything from the trailer and truck, while Mieka grabbed her leftover lunch and followed Triss inside.

“How was your day?” Triss asked, gauging Mieka carefully.

“It was good. We got everything we needed.”

Triss’s eyes fell to the fast-food bag. “Ah, you stopped at Gus’s. I take it you’re not hungry, then?”

Mieka puffed out her cheeks and shook her head. “I still haven’t even finished this. But it’s so freaking good.”

“I know. I’ve gone to Denver with Nate a few times and he always stops there. It’s good, but it’s definitely a treat. I’m like a snake after I eat there. That’s my meal for the week.”

“You’re okay that I’m going to skip dinner?”

Triss lifted a shoulder. “You’re an adult and free to do as you like. It’s why I haven’t put the meat on the barbecue yet.”

“The day here was good?” Mieka asked, pulling out the rest of her burger, taking a seat at the table and diving in. “We feel bad. We left when it was so busy.”

“Great day,” Triss said, taking up an abandoned spot at the counter to continue preparing a salad. “It was busy, but everyone had a good time. Fumble escaped again, so that was fun. Asher is so close to barbecuing that goat, I swear it.”

Mieka chuckled. “Apparently Ray’s auntie has a great recipe for jerked goat.”

 

 

A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
 
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.

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“OMG while on holiday I finished in one day it was that good!” Not Over You is OUT! Closet Dom, brat heroine, cop, Thanksgiving Rom-Com

 

Title: Not Over You
Author: Whitley Cox
Release: October 1, 2022
Genre: second-chance, closet Dom, brat heroine, cop romance, romantic comedy, thanksgiving comedy, heroine with PTSD

She’s thankful for many things this year, but her ex moving back to town isn’t one of them.
Four years ago, Officer Jordan Lassiter swept Rayma Young off her feet, making the twenty-year-old finally feel safe and loved. His quiet, calm, take-charge attitude made it easy for her to trust him with all of her secrets—even the dark ones.
Eager to prove himself as a rookie cop, Jordan accepted a transfer too far away for their relationship to work. Heartbroken, they broke up but remained friends. Or at least that’s what she thought …
Three years later, Jordan’s back and thinks they can just pick up right where they left off.
Not happening.
Hurt and angry for ghosting her, Rayma has slammed her walls back up and not even Jordan and his patient control will convince her to give him back her heart.
But when they wind up at the same Thanksgiving dinner, it’s all Rayma can do to remain strong as happy memories begin to crack the protective shell she’s forged around her heart, while Jordan does everything he can to win her back.
Except give her the one thing she needs.
His trust.

 

 

“It’s date number six, Jordan …” Rayma said, exasperated, horny, and looking hotter than she’d ever looked—in her opinion. “Can you at least kiss me for fuck’s sake?”

Jordan’s mouth twisted as he tried to hide his smile. “You really don’t care who can hear you, do you?”

Rayma rolled her eyes. “Sure fucking don’t. This is all just a game to you, isn’t it?”

“Couldn’t be further from a game, Rayma,” Jordan said, ushering them forward as they waited in line for a busy new restaurant that had just opened up downtown. Rayma had been trying to get a reservation for ages since everyone in her classes was just raving about the place, but so far, she hadn’t had any luck. Jordan, however, appeared to have pulled some strings and they had a reservation for eight o’clock. 

She’d changed her outfit four times that night before finally deciding on an adorable but also ridiculously sexy long-sleeved black dress that hit her on her upper thigh and showed off what little cleavage she had in a lace-trimmed sweetheart neckline. Her black boots with the four-inch heels hit her knees, and the black leather jacket that she was also permanently borrowing from Pasha’s closet tied it all together perfectly. She kept her hair down in thick waves and wore tear-drop cubic zirconia earrings, because, well, she was a starving student, she ain’t got the scratch for diamonds. 

Even with Jordan’s reservations, the restaurant was still packed and people were forced to wait outside in the cold as the staff hurried to clear and re-set tables. 

She shivered where she stood, questioning her choice of attire since her entire thighs were exposed to the elements and a sharp breeze from the harbor was tickling her ass cheeks.

“Here.” He tugged her in front of him, wrapped his arms around her front and plastered her back to his chest. He pulled the sides of his open peacoat around her, enveloping her in his heat and decadent scent. “Better?” 

“Infinitely,” she said. She pushed her ass back against his crotch and was pleased with the slight hitch to his breath. At least he wasn’t immune to her advances and friend-zoning her, which was what she thought was happening after date number two and he still didn’t even kiss her. 

By date four she thought maybe she had bad breath or stunk. But after a thorough pit sniff and a lot of mouthwash, she determined that wasn’t the case, either. 

Date five had her ready to end things right then and there, but then when he said he made reservations at Ellapora since the owner was a friend of a friend, she decided she’d at least see how date seven went before she decided to cut the hot, celibate cop loose. 

She did another little hip shimmy and smiled to herself when he groaned and his cock jerked in his dress pants against the crease of her ass. “Careful,” he warned.

 

 

 

A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn’t end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it’s not quite wine o’clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
 
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.

 

 

 

 

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