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    Love's A Rugged Journey: A Multicultural BWWM Romance
    Love's A Rugged Journey: A Multicultural BWWM Romance
    Love's A Rugged Journey: A Multicultural BWWM Romance
    Ebook73 pages1 hour

    Love's A Rugged Journey: A Multicultural BWWM Romance

    By Dina Marie

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    About this ebook

    Life was a party and I was the star…

    Chef Molly Samuels was burnt out. Long hours in the kitchen and late nights drinking at every hot spot in town, and she was ready for a new challenge. She no longer wanted to cook pretentious food for people who never ate it and she was sick of being alone in a sea of millions of people. When the chance came to marry a real life cowboy, she jumped out the opportunity.

    The ranch was in my blood, I didn't need anything else…

    Ranch owner Davis Deacon wasn't looking for love, but thanks to his mom's meddling ways, love simply showed up on his doorstep one day. And she was beautiful. But he'd known too many ranchers who fell for city girls only to have them dash off at the first cold winter or big department store sale.

    Time together and sizzling attraction makes ranch life more exciting than either of them ever thought. But will a misunderstanding ruin a good thing before it gets started?

    Note: The cover story is a sweet & sexy 17,000 word stand alone novella, with no cliffhangers, and a happily ever after! This book contains spicy love scenes, colorful language, and bonus stories for 18+ readers.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDina Marie
    Release dateNov 16, 2018
    ISBN9781386660200
    Love's A Rugged Journey: A Multicultural BWWM Romance

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      Book preview

      Love's A Rugged Journey - Dina Marie

      1

      I’m dead. That’s what’s happening right now. I died last night and I’m stuck…somewhere. Molly Samuels opened one eye to make sure the couch she’d slept half on and half off was indeed hers. It was. Thank goodness because if she woke up—again—on a stranger’s sofa, she was going to have to have a little talk with herself.

      She tried to pull herself upright but she didn’t have the energy to tighten her core and make it work. But the remote control pressed against her face made it difficult to stay where she was. Okay, here we go, she groaned and moved to a sitting position on the sofa, still trying to open her other eye. Hell no, she cursed when a blinding light seared her eyeballs. Eyes closed tight, Molly blindly felt around the room until all the blinds were closed and her open eyes were met with sweet, blessed blackness. She sighed in relief.

      Molly girl, you have to stop this. She’d been having this conversation with herself more and more lately, too much in fact. But she was one night away from a major personal or professional mistake. She didn’t like to work hungover, but she’d been in that state for the past six months. Eighteen months ago she’d been named a James Beard award winner and soon after scored an amazing job at Petite Ans. It was the best French Restaurant in New York and she was the executive chef in charge of the exclusive menu. She’d loved the job for the first year. As the second year began her discontent grew and grew until she’d become the pickled mess that sat on her merlot colored sofa.

      Her days were long, about fourteen hours a day, six days a week. When she wasn’t cooking or drinking, she found her way to a few hours of sleep. Molly couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something simple like laundry or cleaning her house. She just didn’t do it. She hired a housekeeper who came once a week and keep her shit in order. But now it all seemed so…excessive.

      Molly wasn’t an idiot, all evidence to the contrary. She knew what she was doing was totally self-destructive and she wanted to hop off that train before it hit that brick wall. If she spent one moment alone and sober she could admit the truth. She wasn’t as happy as she was a year ago with her work. She could make the dishes in her sleep and they always brought a moan to the lips, the problem was the food no longer stirred her. She wasn’t passionate about the fancy meals that were overpriced and—to her great sorrow—rarely eaten. The clientele at Petite Ans were rich as Croesus, but they weren’t exactly known for the love of food. They booked reservations for dates just to be seen and they booked reservations to impress competitors and future business partners alike. So she worked her ass off to get to the market early for the freshest ingredients, sweated like a junkie in the kitchen making the food and ensuring it all was worthy of her name, and most of the time it went uneaten.

      Most nights she was a bear in the kitchen, but watching all those plates full of food get scraped into the trash bins, turned her into a raging bitch. Lately she hadn’t transitioned out of bitch mode and her kitchen was no longer a fun place to cook. She didn’t get up with the same zeal she did every morning and she usually collapsed wherever she fell, each night in a drunken stupor. Ugh, my life is a frat party she groaned and made her way to the kitchen for water.

      Two hours later, scrubbed clean and bright eyed thanks to her favorite blend of South African coffee, Molly sat at her laptop and sought out new culinary opportunities. There was a dude ranch in Wyoming looking for a chef or she could try her hand at seafood and move to San Francisco. She groaned, Wyoming sounded more appealing but still, she wasn’t moved.

      Then she caught an image from the corner of her eye. A moving cowboy hat with a sign that read, Old West meets New West. It was strange but she was due for a distraction so she clicked the image. Mail order bride! She scanned the website and realized it was a matchmaking site for cowboys. Molly had a secret thing for cowboys. Well not so much a secret, really. Without giving it much thought, she filled out the profile and uploaded a photo of herself. She’d been goofing around in her chef’s coat and hat, and a pair of short denim jeans. The photo was cute, highlighting her dark cocoa skin against the chef whites.

      Now she was allowed to look at the merchandise. The first few pages were mostly duds. They seemed like nice guys, sure, but they looked more dairy farmer than cowboy. Then she scrolled past the sexiest, most piercing pair of sapphire eyes she’d ever seen. Holy wow! She leaned in to read his profile. Hello, Davis, she purred and began typing a message to the blue eyed hottie.

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