Only An Okie Will Do, Book 8
Contemporary Western
Date Published: 01-16-2024
The moment Chance Nash bumps into a sassy blonde at the local bar, he knows she's The One. She might play hard to get, but he gradually wears her down and even learns her name on their first date.
Isla Michaels has come to Oklahoma under false pretenses. Sort of. Although
she grew up with privilege, her family life lacked warmth. She recently
learned she has a half-brother she never knew about. In order to meet him,
she pretends to be interested in one of his horses. Maybe if it goes well,
she'll tell him who she is. What she doesn't expect is to be charmed by
Chance. He's cute, he's caring, and he immediately breaks through the walls
she's erected to keep her heart safe.
But pressure to return home is mounting and Isla's still not sure she wants
to spill the truth about her family history. Her deepening feelings for
Chance complicate everything she planned for her future. And even though he
promises to follow her anywhere, she knows it's wrong to take him away from
his family legacy. Isla's decisions will either lead her away from the
cowboy she's hooked on or back home to the austere life she built before
Chance.
Read and Excerpt Below
About the Author
"The West isn't won until a cowboy claims your heart."
Becca Turner was raised in Missouri except for a couple of formative years
in SW Oklahoma that left her with an Okie accent. One day she was reading
cowboy romance novels and wondered why they're all set in Texas. Then she
set out to do something about it.
She lives in Missouri with her husband and two dogs.
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Excerpt from "Cowboy Kind of Hooked"
He held his hat in his hand as he approached the blonde. “Excuse me, miss. Can I—”
She didn’t bother to look up from her phone. “No.”
“Uh, okay. I’m—”
“No.”
He stared at her profile. Regal nose that had clearly never been broken. Or she’d had some hella
good plastic surgery. Soft pink lips. A slight blush on her cheeks.
“Let me start again—”
“No thank you.” She finally looked at him.
Blue eyes the color of mineral water frozen in glaciers. Chance’s heart whipped into overdrive.
“I’m happy sitting here alone.” She flicked her hand as though shooing a fly. “So feel free to
leave and take your lame pick-up lines with you.”
At least she’s not repulsed by my face. He settled his hat onto his head. “If you’d stop interrupting
me, I wanted to say you dropped something.”
He pointed at the floor to a business card beneath the barstool.
“Oh. Thanks.” She slid off the barstool and kneeled to reach it.
“Didn’t want you to lose something that might be important.”
She held the card up, then tucked it into her purse. “I have his number in my phone, so it wasn’t
a big deal, but thanks again.”
She sat on the barstool again. “So. You were leaving.”
“I—” He frowned. “Fine. I get it. You don’t want to be hit on.”
“Right. Although I do have a question.” She pushed hair behind her ear. “What happened to your
face? Because if you were looking for sympathy, it’s not really working.”
He laughed. “Are you joking? When I got to the ER, the nurses couldn’t stop falling all over
themselves. I’m kind of a celebrity.” In certain bullfighting circles.
“I’m not buying that.”
He gestured to his face. “Under these bruises, I’m super-hot.”
Her turn to laugh, and it was melodic.
“You sound conceited.”
“I’m—” He folded his arms. “My grandma tells me all the time I’m a very handsome young
man, and any lady would be proud to have me.”
She almost doubled over with laughter. A tear rolled down her cheek. She waved her hand in
front of her face.
“It’s not that funny,” he muttered.
“Your grandma?” She burst into giggles again, clutching her stomach. “Oh, God. It hurts.”
“I’m going away now. Glad you got a laugh.” Way to go, Chancy. Real smooth. It’s like eighth
grade all over again.
He paused and looked her dead in the eye. “I’m a bullfighter and your laughter doesn’t faze me.
So…there.”
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