Cowboy Paradise

Cowboy Paradise - Banner

 

Cowboy Paradise Cover

Book: Cowboy Paradise
Author: Rhonda Lee Carver
Genre: Cowboy Romance

Goodreads Book Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24858413-cowboy-paradise?from_search=true

Synopsis:

Exhausted with carrying around the weight of a damaged past, Cara is ready to take the ultimate step in finding her old self, before she met and married her evil husband. She needs to get away from the small town where rumors are spinning and people know her. When she visits Nirvana Ranch, an R&R, she realizes life isn’t as bleak as she thought.

Ben is missing something. He doesn’t feel the excitement he once did as a ranch hand at Nirvana, until he meets a guest that turns his world upside down. He has a connection with her that he can’t brush off or deny. Getting to know her breaks every rule in his book, but he is willing to take the risk.

Cara didn’t expect her life to change the moment sexy and rugged Ben walks in. Parts of her are flaming hot for cowboy, and she has an opportunity to break the rules, something her husband never allowed. Ben triggers her every fantasy and every desire. She’s on the ride of her life and it doesn’t require a saddle.
What started as a strong urge to take Cara to a new level of passion becomes much, much more for Ben. Cara’s touch destroys the boundaries he’d built—exposing a secret of his own, a past of heartache and guilt.

Warning: Read at your own risk of falling for a cowboy.

Excerpt

“Ben, something’s in my pants.”
He dropped the basket to the ground. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, but…ouch! It stung me!” She froze. “Afraid if she moved an inch either direction whatever it was would sting her again. “I think it’s a bee.”
“What does the sting feel like?”
“Are you serious? A sting! Like someone shot a staple into my butt.” Tears came to her eyes.
“Drop your pants, Cara.” He was beside her in a flash.
The back of her thigh started to throb in pain but she continued to stare at him in confusion. “I’m not dropping my pants.” She was mortified.
“If it’s a wasp, it’ll sting you again,” he warned.
Fear washed over her, but not from the wasp. If she pulled down her pants he would see her panties, not the pretty, lace ones she wore once upon a time. Not the panties she knew men like Ben wanted to see on a woman. Cara’s panties certainly wouldn’t be found in a sexy lingerie shop. These were the comfy panties—as she liked to call them—she started wearing when James continually told her how fat she was getting. They didn’t cover up enough for her liking.
Had she gone mad?
And why did she care one hoot what underwear she was wearing? If Ben didn’t like them, then so what!
She smiled. Wow! She was getting the aggressive thing down. Deirdre would be proud.
“Do you need some help?” he asked.
She smacked his hand away. “No. I’ll do it, but you have to turn your head.”
“Cara, we don’t have time for this. Is it not processing that you could be stung again? This is for emergency reasons only.” The sincerity in his expression made it easier to do what she knew must be done.
Unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans, he was polite enough to keep his gaze on her face as she slowly slid the denim down her hips and thighs, slipping them to her knees. All of James’s cruel and degrading verbal assaults crawled through her mind as she stood there, partially naked. He had been the only man who’d seen her without clothes. And he’d never liked what he saw.
“Where did it sting you, sweetheart?” His gentle voice soothed her—a little.
“On my thigh, the back.”
“Turn and let me take a look.” His gaze slipped past her chest, her stomach and she crossed her, vulnerability easing through her. “If it’s a bee sting you could still have the stinger in your skin, which could cause infection. We can’t let that happen. You’re in Nirvana and that bee just wanted a little taste of honey.”
How did he do that? How did he make everything seem okay? How did he make her concerns seem ridiculous? In actuality, her fears were silly. She was being silly. James was gone and she was moving on. The internal scars were fading.
Reluctantly, she turned and closed her eyes. His breath rushed from his lungs and she jerked. Then he was quiet for the longest time. Was he silently gawking at her large butt or her huge thighs? She’d never claimed to be a supermodel and never wanted to be. She read in a magazine that men liked juicy butts, but what exactly did ‘juicy’ mean? Seconds turned into a minute. She started to turn back but he stopped her with a hand on her waist. “What is it, Ben?”
“It’s definitely a bee sting, darlin’.” His voice was smooth as silk.
“Then get it out fast. This is awkward standing here with my pants down around my ankles.”
“Well, sweetheart, there’s a problem.”

Author Bio:

At an early, Rhonda fell in love with romance novels, knowing one day she’d write her own love story. Life took a short detour, but when the story ideas would no longer be contained, she decided to dive in and write. Her first rough draft was on a dirty napkin she found buried in her car. Eventually, she ran out of napkins. With baby on one hip and laptop on the other, she made a dream into reality—one word at a time.
Her specialty is men who love to get their hands dirty and women who are smart, strong and flawed. She loves writing about the everyday hero.
When Rhonda isn’t crafting sizzling manuscripts, you will find her busy editing novels, blogging, juggling kids and animals (too many to name), dreaming of a beach house and keeping romance alive. Oh, and drinking lots of coffee to keep up with her characters.

Social Links:
Website: http://www.rhondaleecarver.com
Blog: http://rhondaleecarver-author.blogspot.com/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/7355117
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rhonda-Lee-Carver-Author/155568577811615?ref=hl

TSU: https://www.tsu.co/RhondaLeeCarver
Rhonda’s Rowdy Readers Street Team: https://www.facebook.com/groups/471259293018665/
Sign up for Rhonda Lee Carver’s monthly newsletter:
http://rhondaleecarver.us7.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=90e1b85f9dc4475cf9cbd66b4&id=4e770eb50b

Buy Links:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1zw9buT

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1zw9lCd

Giveaway:

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/95cb0282139/?

What is YOUR value?

Several months ago, after a particularly emotional day of thinking, I wrote a post about the value of me. I honestly never gave it much thought again after that post, it succeeded in opening my own eyes a little bit more about myself, was therapeutic, and then I was done with it. It was off my radar like the swipe of an eraser on a white board. For, well, I was going to say “whatever reason” but that’s not accurate, I’m just not entirely sure of the reason, that post popped into my head last night after listening to a friend who had had a particularly bad day at work and home.

cb5cff81ceaddad022c40ae16dca1cdb

This friend is always there for everyone at work, listening to them, appreciating them, valuing everyone at work… Yesterday, however, she left work at the end of the day feeling like a failure, so beat down, under appreciated, and completely unvalued.

Let me tell you something, whether I know you or not. Whether I know everything you are facing in life or not. You are important. There is a reason you were put on Earth, sometimes we never know that reason ourselves, but I guarantee someone does.

c4dbc90643503737a9ad8d658e30b751

Value is defined as the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

In our lives, in the end, what really matters? Is it the amount of money you made, or saved? No. Its, in my opinion, the lives that you touched, the hearts that you affected. That is the purpose of everyone. The people who love you, even at what you think is your worst… Everything about you matters. It’s unique. You matter.

Is it scary to feel unvalued? Unappreciated? To feel like you can’t face another day of the same ‘ole, same ‘ole? Hell, yes! But you are strong enough, you may just need to dig a little deeper sometimes to tap into that strength.

e343eb65daf31a2d3922653d727bba51

Just promise me, no matter how hard the battle, how deep the fear; no matter how bad the day, always remember at least one person who loves you for you. The important, appreciated, beautiful, valued you.

Cheers for 2015!

I did it. I have blown the sides of my comfortable little box wide open. I ended last year with the release of my first book, a novella that, while not a best seller, I can take pride in the fact that I wrote my first book, and am currently working on another two.

Beyond that, and wow, is that crazy for me to even say?!, is that I have followed a dream and travelled to Ireland. I’m actually sitting in the hotel pub! My holiday here ends on Tuesday before I venture into London and then onto France to visit with my brother and his family.

I wrote back in June (Really? That long ago??) that I was going to start living boldly (you can read about it here). I gave a list of things that I wanted to accomplish, and while I never made it to the dance classes, I did make it out of the country. This is, in my mind, a much bigger leap in the “live boldly” pool.

What can I try and challenge myself with this year? Of course theres the obligatory “lose weight,” “exercise more,” “Get healthy,” routine that I pledge to do every year, but never get around to doing… Maybe a bit of reverse psychology is needed? This year I resolve to do nothing healthy, eat pure crap and laze around all the time?

This year I will try to respect myself more. I am who I am, nothing more, nothing less. I can’t expect people to like me if I don’t like myself. How can I like myself if I don’t respect myself?

This year I’m going to do at least three things that will better me. Maybe learn something? Train for, and complete, something? I don’t know, but it has to be three things.

This year I’m going to be a better Mom, and a better daughter. I let the events of early last year control so much of my time. It’s been almost a year; it’s time to move on.

I’m sure there’re more things that will pop into my brain as the year goes; we’ll see what happens in 2015.

Hell hath no fury like a…

…Like a trainer scorned. Forget about the whole “woman scorned” thing, I stepped back into the gym, AKA Dungeon, on Friday to meet with my long ignored trainer, AKA Sadist, AKA Satan. I should have known something was up. Oh, he gave no easily recognized clues, but I should have picked up on the happy malevolence that was him.

dungeon

It started easily enough, warming up on the treadmill for 10 minutes of walking, getting the blood pumping a bit faster, warming up my neglected muscles. You all know the drill whether you are an gym rat, or a gym ghost (like me). There I am, happily plodding along on the treadmill, thinking various thoughts when he asks if I am ready to roll. I should never have said “yes” to that question…

Satan leads me into his den -er, office, where he announces that we are starting from scratch with me, need to get me back to the motivated, on track client that I once was, and then he cores the unspeakable… He pulls out the tape measure and the body fat thingy (*not its clinical name) and tells me to hop on the scale.

Efffffffffffffffffffffffff.

I knew what the scale would say, I had been to the doctor two days before that, so I walked out and walked back in, giving him that number. He wrote it down on the new, clean “progress” page, and then went to flipping back in his book to where I was before I basically quit on myself. I had ballooned all the way up to where I had been, plus an additional 20 pounds. You can see the progress I had made here.

After the weigh in and body fat analyst, he pulled out out the dreaded tape measure. Yeah, um, let’s just say my month of horrors began a few days early. It’s humbling to see myself reduced back to numbers again; numbers that I promised myself I would stay away from. What was even more distressing was the fact that I have let myself go so much that the workout had me huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf and sweating like a newbie at a chili pepper eating contest.

The question, or trick, is how to re-motivate myself? I know that it’s about my health, the very health I’ll need to watch my children eventually graduate college and grace me with grand babies. Ive looked throughout my home searching for a genie, or some “miracle fat cure” that would make this time around different from the last too-many-to-counts.

I’ll figure it out,  or at least try to. There are a lot of potholes on this road that I’ve laid in front of me, I just need to be better at dodging them.

josh

 

 

 

 

 

Blerg

I’m not sure why it is lately that I have so many ideas for what I want to write about when I am nowhere near my laptop (usually when I am either a) at work and not able to write anything down, or b) in bed, worn out after being at work!), but as soon as I sit down to start writing, it’s like my mind and all of my thoughts have been sucked into a black hole! Don’t get me wrong, I still have a lot of those thoughts and thinks going on, but I wonder if I should write about them? *snort* Who am I kidding? I have already shared so much on here, why would I suddenly turn shy when I have this platform of (relative) anonymity?

 

Things in my world have been rocking right along, staying super busy and usually incredibly happy with the job I have. I honestly can’t completely wrap my brain around the fact that I have been with this company for over a year, and that I left a career of ten tears to work full time, and I still go to work every day happy and smiling, ready to see what comes my way that day. I come home tired, worn to the bone some days, but I can still smile because of some little something or other that happened that day.

 

With all of this working, I have still not made the time for myself to get back to the gym like I have been telling myself I would. I am meeting with the Sadist once a week still, but the time I need to allow, no, that is such a wrong word. I should not say that I am allowing myself time for myself… I have not been making the time for myself to look after myself the way I know I should. The weight is back, and then some. The body shaming is back in the front of my mind, and embarrassment of and for me is constant. I look and think, near tears, how gross and disgusting.

 

I don’t think that many people realize these thoughts go through my mind on a constant loop, thanks to the masks that I try to wear. Unless they read this, and I only know of a couple of my friends who do, no one in my close circle really knows the truth. Again, it is here in this forum that I can express the truth because I know I am not alone. I wonder how many more “me’s” there are in the world.

 

I think I’ll stop here now that I have put a depressed pallor on my blog for the night.