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Rough Ride Romeo


Roman “Romeo” Freemont puts his tragic history in the deep freeze. Instead he takes to a time-honored cowboy tradition of women and liquor to soothe his aching heart, but when a petite brunette with a feisty temper comes crashing into his world, he realizes what he’s been missing.

Francesca “Franki” Scott has walked through fire herself. Nowadays she just isn’t a people person, and she’s definitely not interested in a wannabe playboy ranch owner either. She has a mission and it could mean life or death for someone close to her if she gets distracted.

Closing the gap between these two wounded souls could mean surviving yet another tragedy. Will their determination to hide their pain from themselves be their downfall, or will they come through this rough ride together?

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“I’m loving the Crawley Creek series, can’t wait to see who’s story is next.” – Erica, One Click Book Addict

“Lori has written another great emotional book that allows the characters to grow and find what they don’t even know they are looking for.” – Naughty Book Eden

“At times this book was difficult to read if only because of the pain both characters were experiencing but that didn’t make the book any less worth reading in my opinion. Lori King certainly knows how to write a beautiful romance story.” – Reading Shy With Aly





Horror washed over Roman when he twisted around to find a woman standing just inches from the tailgate of his truck. Thankfully, she looked unharmed, but she also looked pissed off. By the time he’d thrown the door open to get out, she’d darted around the truck and was in his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You just ran over my bike!” she yelled, slamming her palm against his chest and knocking him off balance as he tried to stand up. He landed on his ass on the seat with his legs spread off kilter, and her right between his knees glaring daggers at him from her cobalt blue eyes. Rich, brown hair was tied back in a messy braid, and a pair of aviator sunglasses sat on top of her head, but it wasn’t her shades that drew his attention. It was her fury, and the frustrated anguish that filled her curses. “God damn it! Why the hell weren’t you…how the hell did you…damn it!”

Lifting his hands in an attempt to calm her, he murmured, “Easy there, sweetheart—”

“Don’t start that country boy charm shit with me, bucko. I’m not buying it. You just wrecked my bike, and you’re going to pay for the damages,” she snapped, poking her finger into his chest. Standing in front of her now, the size difference between them was more obvious. At just over six feet, Roman was fairly average height in this part of the country, but this little biker chick was more than a half foot shorter than he was, and based on the way her jeans and t-shirt clung to her body she was perfectly molded underneath.

“I’m not arguing that a bit, Miss…” he paused hoping she’d fill in the blanks, but she just spun on her heel and headed back to where her bike was still stuck under the back end of the truck.

Dropping to her knees, she ran her hand over the handlebars which were now slightly twisted. “Oh Hal, my poor baby. Damn country folks don’t even know how to drive in an empty parking lot. I can’t believe with all of this space around him he couldn’t even manage to…damn it all to fuck.”

Well she certainly has a colorful vocabulary, he thought, and an oddly personal relationship with her motorcycle. The bike didn’t look terrible, but then again, it was hidden in the shadow of the truck. Reaching for his keys, he stepped closer to her, and said, “If you’ll just scoot over some, I’ll pull forward and we’ll see what the damage is. I’m awfully sorry about running over your bike, but—”

“But what? But it was somehow my fault that you backed over the one and only vehicle besides yours in the whole parking lot?” she demanded.

Damn she was a squirrelly one. There was something about the fire in her eyes and her fierce temper that clashed with the frustration and sorrow in the slump of her shoulders. She was more than just angry over the accident. Something else had this strange woman upset.

“No. It was absolutely my fault. I was just going to say, I happen to know a mechanic that can fix it for you. I’ll cover the cost, of course.” He tried to relax all of his body so that he didn’t seem threatening in any way. For some reason, he really wanted her to trust him, and give him a chance to make things right. He wanted to protect her from whatever demons were haunting her.

The moment the thought raced through his brain he tossed it aside. That was the silliest thing in the world. He had no interest in getting involved in anyone else’s demon hunting. He had plenty of nightmares riding around with him every day. No, he was just offering to take care of this because it was his responsibility as a human being. He’d caused the damage, and he’d fix it.

“What happened here?”

Bran’s deep voice made Roman groan and lean his head against the door of the truck. Just what he needed.

“This dumbass just backed over my bike!” the petite little hellion said, tugging at the saddlebag that was caught on his trucks trailer hitch. “If you smashed my laptop I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you.”

Her threat made him grimace, and cover his family jewels as he exchanged a sick look with Brandon. Shoving his hat back out of his eyes, Brandon bent to take a look at the motorcycle and then shook his head. “You sure did a number on it, Romeo.”

“Romeo? Is that your name? Officer, I want this man arrested, or fined, or something.”

Bran was clearly fighting back a grin as he nodded. “It’s Sheriff Bowers, ma’am, and this dumbass”— Bran gestured to Romeo—“is Roman Freemont. I certainly understand why you’re upset Miss…”

This time she didn’t leave the opening hanging. “Scott, Franki Scott. And I’m way more than upset.”

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Copyright Lori King Books 2015

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