Pass, Texas. For those of you who visited this past August, you know that this small town, nestled along the banks of the Rio Grande, is home to one of the biggest cattle ranches in Texas—Reynolds Station.
Youngest brother and former special ops soldier Hoyt Reynolds is known for his stoic (read: grumpy) attitude. That doesn’t stop the whole town from swooning when he swaggers down Main Street in his jeans and boots. Nor has it stopped Reese Grantham from noticing Hoyt, well, pretty much her entire life.
She’s still struggling to get past her father’s suicide the prior spring, after his murderous ways were discovered, and Reese finds herself alone one night at the Border Line bar. That’s where Hoyt finds her, and he’s determined to take care of her and cheer her up if at all possible. Their evening turns into something more and, much to their mutual surprise, goes from a delicious memory to something even bigger—a baby.
When nameless, faceless threats endanger Reese, Hoyt knows he must protect the mother of his child at all costs. But will protecting her put him in the line of fire, as well?
I hope you enjoy Special Ops Cowboy and I look forward to sharing the stories of Hoyt’s other two siblings, Ace and Arden, in future books. In the meantime, if you want to begin with the first in the series, The Cowboy’s Deadly Mission is available now.
Best,
Addison Fox
In loving memory of Annette Deoria
1921–2018
I believe angels walk among us because of you.
Author’s Note
For those of you familiar with cattle ranching, you will note I’ve played with the time of year cattle are branded. As calves are typically branded around two to three months of age, branding season is normally wrapped up by May, not early August. I hope you’ll forgive the license I took in shifting the timeline to suit the story.
Contents
Her mother had always said gossip was the devil’s work. That the idle prattle of small towns had no place in their lives. Of course, Reese Grantham thought reflectively, her mother had offered up those pearls of wisdom before her father had turned into the devil incarnate, doing far worse than some dismissive chatter over produce bins at the market.
Whatever disaster Serena Grantham had hoped to avert by diligently avoiding discussion of the misfortunes of others throughout her life had all been for naught.
That fact became abundantly clear to Reese two months earlier, when Russ Grantham was transported to the morgue due to a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. Officers from the precinct he’d served for thirty years had solemnly carried out the transfer. And it was only that self-inflicted gunshot that had kept those same officers from hauling him into the police station on murder charges stemming from Russ’s serial rampage killing drug dealers.
Some said Russ had snapped over the loss of his own son to drugs years before. Others whispered that it was bad blood,
