George has been searching for a way to predict tornados that mimics her inherent ability. Her encounter with a handsome cowboy that drives away a twister has her stumped.

Wyatt and Landon are Storm Riders assigned to wrangle cyclones. When they both meet George, they’re driven to possess her, even offering themselves to her for a wild, stormy night of passion. When their boss, Raul, gets wind of this, he demands they cease all contact. Neither Wyatt nor Landon can stand to think she won’t be part of their lives.

She’s turned their world upside down and each craves George’s touch. Will Landon and Wyatt get to keep her? Or will Raul separate them forever?



Excerpt from "Storm Riders"

“Excuse me.”

The pit of her stomach dropped. Her glass barely touched her lips when she heard the husky voice. Everything in her froze. She turned around slowly to see who was behind her. Her gaze roamed over him. She stared at the black, but well-worn cowboy boots that somehow seemed familiar. Dark blue jeans encased muscled calves and thighs. His pants weren’t too tight and just hinted at the curves and bulges they concealed. A stretched black shirt hugged a broad chest which only enhanced the flatness of his stomach. Sandy brown hair brushed the top of his shoulders. Full lips that might turn up into a sneer in a heartbeat were smiling at her. Dark blue eyes gazed at her holding more wisdom than they should have.

“Can I help you with something?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I was wondering if you might want to dance.”

She glanced into his eyes and tried not to melt right there on the barstool. The band was starting a slow song. Couples were getting snuggly on the dance floor. A pang of longing traveled through her. He seemed handsome enough. He waited patiently. She sipped her drink one more time and placed it on the bar. “That’d be nice.”

He offered her his hand. She took it. Once she did, a bolt of electricity zapped her and made her stagger. He caught her and held her close. “Are you okay?”

This cowboy was so tall her head just reached the top of his chin. She stood on tiptoe so she could gaze into his eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw a tornado reflected in them. Shaking her head, she dismissed the vision. Get a hold of yourself. “Yeah. Tripped. That’s all.”

He led her onto the dance floor and rested his palm against the small of her back. The heat of his hand burned through her thin shirt, but the overwhelming sense that a storm was near made her head spin. Her stomach knotted the way it got before a boomer rolled in. Her muscles were tense and she didn’t know why. There was a static charge in the air. She rested her hands on his shoulders and moved in time to the music. As they turned in their dance, she saw Trina sandwiched between the two college boys. Her friend gave her a thumbs up.

“What’s your name?” her mystery man asked. His hot breath tickled her ear and made her shiver inside.

“Georgiana. Everyone calls me George. You?”


She nodded and settled against his shoulder inhaling his musky scent. She tried to ignore the static charge in the air and relax into the dance. For whatever reason, she was comfortable with him. Not many men made her feel that way. If they did, then the relationship lasted a few months before they left. He pressed her a little closer against him until her breasts brushed his shirt, but he made no further move. His hand remained on her back and didn’t try to slip down and cop a feel. His other hand rested on her hip. She appreciated that he was a gentleman. Then the song ended, but they didn’t move off the dance floor.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“I’m good, thanks. I’ve had quite a day and not sure alcohol needs to be involved in it. What about you?”

He chuckled. “I thought men bought drinks for ladies and not the other way around.”

“Ha. I’m no lady.”

Wyatt laughed. “You sure look like one to me.” His lips were only inches from hers.

The pull between them was dizzying. She was already tipsy even though she was stone cold sober. Gathering her self control, she placed a hand on his chest.

“What would you do if I wasn’t?”

His gaze darkened. “You really don’t want to know. If you’re playing around with me, I’ll—”

George felt him go rigid. Crap. “I’m just kidding. Sorry. I’ve had a, uh…well, a fucked up day. Thank you for the dance.” She began to walk away, but he caught her arm and spun her back around.

“I know you were. I was just joshing. I’m sorry you had such a crazy day. We should compare stories. Maybe you can come back to my place and tell me all about it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re awfully full of yourself, aren’t you? Do you honestly believe I’ll go home with you just after one dance and the offer of buying me a drink?”

Wyatt captured her lips in a kiss that caught her off guard. She stiffened before responding. The moment his lips touched hers, she heard thunder rattle everything around her. Static electricity exploded through her. Her head reeled. Before the storm around her could ease, he pulled away. She stood there, lips pursed, frozen, taking her a moment before she realized it was over. When she opened her eyes, he gave her his smug smile.

“Wow. I’ll take that as a yes.”

He stepped closer and reached behind her settling his hand on her waist, but his fingers pressed against the curve of her derriere. “Only if you really want to. I can sense you do. What we have between us is stimulating. A little tumble in the hay won’t hurt either one of us.”

She bit her lip. He’s so fucking fine. I can’t say yes. I normally don’t do stuff like this, but like he said, one night wouldn’t hurt. I don’t think he’s an axe murder and I really need to get today out of my mind. “Do you always use such cheesy lines?”

“Only on the beautiful ones.”





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