Her Cowboy Groom. Trish Milburn

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Her Cowboy Groom - Trish  Milburn

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       “Lin, you’re not thinking straight.”

      “I’m not looking for forever.” She placed her hand tentatively against his chest.

      Though it pained him to do so, he grasped her hand and pulled it away before he did something irreversible. “You’re not a fling sort of woman.”

      She looked up at him, and he saw a yearning in her eyes that was going to be damn hard to resist if he didn’t get her back inside where his dad and Garrett could serve as a barrier.

      “Maybe a fling is exactly what I need.”

      The woman was trying to kill him.

      “I think we should go in.”

      “Why?” She took a deep breath. “We’re both adults, Owen.” She paused again before continuing. “Ones with needs.”

      He shook his head. “There are other ways to deal with those needs. Trust me.”

      Linnea lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I evidently read things wrong.”

      Her Cowboy Groom

      Trish Milburn

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      TRISH MILBURN writes contemporary romance for the Mills & Boon® Cherish™ line and paranormal romance for the Mills & Boon® Nocturne™ series. She’s a two-time Golden Heart Award winner, a fan of walks in the woods and road trips, and a big geek girl, including being a dedicated Whovian and Browncoat. And from her earliest memories, she’s been a fan of Westerns, be they historical or contemporary. There’s nothing quite like a cowboy hero.

      To all the lovely readers who have written to me about enjoying the Blue Falls, Texas series and asking when the next book will be out. That’s music to a writer’s ears. Thanks from the bottom of my heart for your interest and continued support.

      Contents

       Cover

       Excerpt

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Extract

       Copyright

      Linnea Holland only had five minutes before opening time for her bridal boutique and a busy day of catering to the romantic dreams of Dallas brides-to-be. Still, that was enough time for one more peek.

      She hurried to the back of the building, to the room that held the most gorgeous wedding gown Linnea had ever seen. And it was hers. In two weeks, she would wear the Ellen Clare original design as she walked down the aisle toward her very own prince.

      Okay, so Michael wasn’t an actual prince, but he certainly treated her like a queen. The past six months together had been a whirlwind of fancy dinners in fine restaurants, beautiful flower bouquets delivered to her at the store when he had to go out of town on business and an engagement ring that had taken her breath away. As she stood and stared at the dress with lace so delicate it looked as if it might float away into mist if she touched it, she still couldn’t believe she was going to be Mrs. Michael Benson. Sometimes she pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t in the longest, most realistic dream imaginable.

      Not only was Michael a successful executive with a big investment firm and drop-dead gorgeous, but somehow out of all the women he could have, he’d chosen her, the middle daughter of two teachers. And it had all started when she accidentally bumped into him coming out of a coffee shop, dousing his crisp white shirt and designer suit with a caramel latte. She’d been mortified, and he’d asked her out on the spot, stunning her speechless. He’d just smiled until she’d remembered how to utter a “Yes.”

      It had been the kind of first meeting you saw in movies, and the moment he asked her to marry him she’d been determined to make her wedding like something out of a fairy tale.

      She glanced at the clock and hurried out of the room. She might have a fairy-tale wedding on the horizon, but until then she had a business to run. She reached the front door just as she heard Katrina, her business partner, coming in the back.

      “Sorry I’m late,” Katrina called out.

      Linnea turned the lock on the door, then headed toward the curved white counter in the middle of the store. “You’re not late.”

      “Well, late for me,” Katrina said as she shoved her purse into a

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