Pamela Britton - A Cowboy's Angel

Uneasy Allies

Mariah Stewart has a passion—to save racehorses from slaughter once they’re done racing. Zach Johnson has a passion, too—raising winners. Mariah and her protests are one more annoyance on a list that may cost him his family stables. And when his best horse goes down, she pesters him about his plans for it. The thing is, Mariah is also a vet. Her crazy proposal to save Dasher might work, and what does Zach have to lose?

Only his sanity! Maybe his determined bachelorhood, too. Because Mariah just…gets under his skin. Zach knows she feels it—she heats up every time he’s near. But is the attraction between them enough to set aside everything they believe in?

Zach almost laughed. And she still wouldn’t look at him, and that’s when he knew. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Mariah Stewart found him attractive.

Well, well, well.

Little miss animal rights activist was hot for him. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered…or scared.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, closing the distance between them and tipping her chin up.

She gasped.

He tried not to laugh. He had no idea why he did it except maybe he supposed it had something to do with the number of times she’d driven him insane with her actions and her comments and her innuendos and assumptions.

He pretended to examine her. “Your eyes aren’t dilated or glazed over, so no hypoglycemia.”

“That’s good,” she said softly.

“But if you fall down, I’ll catch you.”

He released her, and she blinked. He smiled. Oh, yeah. She found him attractive all right.

So what are you going to do about it?

Drive her crazy. Completely and utterly crazy. Maybe then she’d leave him alone.

Dear Reader,

Usually my book ideas are the result of a conversation I’ve overheard, or an idea suggested by a friend, but that wasn’t the case with A Cowboy's Angel. As a reporter for a local newspaper I was writing a story on the horse slaughter industry and its connection to horse racing. As I was working on the article I found myself thinking: What if?

What if a race horse owner met an activist? What if that activist hated horse racing? What if against all odds they started to fall in love?

I am a sucker for a horse tale. Throw in a hero with a passion for animals and I’m there. I had to pit that hero against a woman as outspoken as she was beautiful, but the resulting story, A Cowboy’s Angel, the first book in a series set in the fictional town of Via Del Caballo, is everything I always strive for in a tale. Fun. Fast-paced and, most of all, a fabulous love story…or so I hope.

You might be interested to know that I own a horse that came from a horse slaughter auction. I recently won my first buckle with that horse—proof that even our four-legged friends can have a happily ever after.

Best,

Pam

P.S. Look for Jillian’s story next!

A Cowboy’s Angel

Pamela Britton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

With over a million books in print, PAMELA BRITTONlikes to call herself the best-known author nobody’s ever heard of. Of course, that changed thanks to a certain licensing agreement with that little racing organization known as NASCAR.

But before the glitz and glamour of NASCAR, Pamela wrote books that were frequently voted the best of the best by the Detroit Free Press, Barnes & Noble (two years in a row) and RT Book Reviews. She’s won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and a nomination for the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® Award.

When not writing books, Pamela is a reporter for a local newspaper. She’s also a columnist for the American Quarter Horse Journal.

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For Julie Craycroft

For sending Tiffany boxes, Halloween stickers, Christmas presents, and so many other things over the years. Thank you, Nanna. I can’t tell you how much your little packages mean to my child. Without you she wouldn’t know what it was like to have a grandmother. Thank you so much for stepping in and showing her the meaning of selfless love.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Extract

Chapter One

“So you’re just going to kill the horse?”

Zach Johnson groaned.

“Couldn’t you at least try to rehab him or something?”

Could this day get any worse?

He glanced at Doc Miller and his groom, Pat, their own faces frozen in what could only be called consternation. Nearby, horses stabled along the backstretch of Golden Downs raceway watched, too, with ears pricked forward as if curious what he would do.

Go ahead. Turn around, they seemed to say.

He didn’t want to. He really didn’t, but he knew if he ignored Mariah Stewart, she’d just come right around the front of him and start yammering in his face.

He slowly turned. “What makes you think I’m going to put him down?” he asked, wishing for the umpteenth time that she weren’t so damn pretty. It irritated the hell out of him that someone so insufferable could be so attractive. Today her red hair glittered as brightly as her eyes beneath the blazing-hot Southern California sun. He found himself wondering where she’d gotten that cute little snub nose and tiny chin of hers...and the freckles. He’d always been a sucker for freckles.

“Don’t you always?” She lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Your type likes to toss away anything that doesn’t make you money.”

He resisted the urge to raise his eyes toward the clear blue sky. God wasn’t going to help him on this one; he had better things to do.

“We’ve been over this before.” He glanced at his vet, knowing the man had as little patience for the woman in jeans and her CEASE—Concerned Equestriennes Aiding in Saving Equines—T-shirt as Zach did himself. “I don’t put my horses down.”

She snorted.

“I send them to auction.”

She uncrossed her arms. “Same thing.”

Next to them, Black in a Dash, the pride of Triple J Quarter Horse Stables, groaned. They’d tranquilized him pretty good, the horse hanging his head, injured back leg just barely touching the ground. Torn suspensory. That was what Doc Miller had just diagnosed. An ultrasound had confirmed Zach’s worst fears, yet even with the injury, Dasher would always have a home with him—not that she’d believe him if he told her that. Dasher was special. The last foal his dad had bred before his death. He wasn’t sure how he’d afford feeding him if he wasn’t out winning races, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Please,” he said to Mariah. “Can you leave us alone right now?” He glanced imploringly at Doc Miller.

The man seemed to take the hint. “As I was saying, euthanasia is one option.” Doc Miller clearly directed his words toward Mariah and sounded as frustrated as Zach felt. “But since he’s a well-bred stallion, you might want to keep him around.”