Harlequin American Romance
ISBN: 978-0373753864
December 2011

A Rodeo Man's Promise

Hot, Young Cowboy...

Winning dominated Riley Fitzgerald’s mind...until the day he met Maria Alvarez. Now, all the rodeo champ can think about is winning Maria’s heart--a task that may be tougher than busting broncs.

Beautiful, Older Teacher...

As a struggling teacher of at-risk teens in an impoverished, gang-infested neighborhood, Maria doesn’t trust the affections of a rich, hot-shot cowboy, especially one who’s ten years her junior. But she can’t deny the attraction between them--and luckily, Riley’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Is She Out Of Her Mind?

There’s only one thing that’s more important to Riley than earning another world title, and that’s earning Maria’s trust. He’s got one chance to prove to Maria that he’s all the man she’ll ever need, and she’s the only woman he’ll ever want.

★★★★
Though Riley’s charming and Maria sincere and their romance is sweetly electric, it’s the tribulations and triumph of the three delinquent teens in this story that will steal readers’ hearts.
~ Pat Cooper RT Book Reviews

Chapter One

Friday afternoon, Riley Fitzgerald climbed out of a green Chevy cab in front of the Fremont County Fairgrounds in Canon City, Colorado. The late-August sun slipped behind a puffy white cloud, casting a shadow over the livestock buildings. He offered the driver a hundred-dollar bill. "Keep the change, Rosalinda."

"A pleasure, Mr. Fitzgerald." The owner of Canon City Cab was old enough to be Riley's grandmother and just as dependable. On his approach to the Freemont County Airport, he'd radioed the control tower to arrange a cab ride for him to the Royal Gorge Rodeo. "Good luck today." Rosalinda waved then drove off.

Riley slung his gear bag over his shoulder and cut across the parking lot.

"Hey, Riley!" A petite blond sashayed toward him, her perky breasts bouncing beneath a hot pink T-shirt with the words Cowgirls Ride Better printed in black lettering across the front.

Sugar waited tables at Dirty Lil's—a roadhouse where cowboys hung out and swapped eight-second stories. Their one and only lusty kiss three years ago had been a bust, but they'd remained good friends. "Did you miss me?" Riley asked.

"Heck yeah, I missed my biggest tipper." She slipped her arm through his and walked with him to the cowboy-ready area. "You're comin' to the bar later, right?"

"You bet." Maintaining his championship swagger had become increasingly difficult when he hadn't hit a top three finish since his July 4th win in South Dakota seven weeks ago.

"Hey, Fitzgerald!" Billie Stover waved his cowboy hat. The bronc rider occupied first place in the standings. "Showin' up kind of late in the day, aren't you?" Stover eyed Sugar while Riley signed in for his event.

"Couldn't catch a tailwind with the Cessna." Riley felt a zap of satisfaction at the smack-down. No matter how great Stover became at bronc-bustin' the cowboy would never earn the amount of money Riley had at his disposal on a day-to-day basis.

No sense trying to downplay his wealth when the media made sure Riley's competitors and rodeo fans knew the Fitzgerald's of Lexington, Kentucky were rolling in the dough. He'd heard the whispers behind the chutes—spoiled rich kid had nothing better to do with his time than play cowboy.

After graduating from college with a marketing degree, he'd bypassed the family business—Kentucky Derby horses and a century-old bourbon distillery—and had hit the rodeo circuit, living off his trust fund. Other than sharing a love for the sport he didn't have a whole lot in common with the average rodeo cowboy. He knew horseflesh—the racing kind—but next to nothing about punching cows, which was what most rodeo contenders did to earn money between rides.

"Forgot you flew your own plane," Stover said.

"You'd forget your brain if it wasn't trapped inside your skull."

Stover spit tobacco juice, the glob landing inches from the toe of Riley's boot. "A win tonight ain't gonna put you back in the running." Listening to the man's bullshit would be a lot less painful if Riley lasted eight seconds in the saddle. His dismal performance the past month fueled personal attacks and provided fodder for the media.

"Worry about yourself, Stover. Your luck might run out tonight."

"Doubt it." Stover disappeared into the crowd. The sport's world was having a field day debating whether or not Riley deserved last year's world title. Riley's first year on the circuit, he ended the season ranked seventh in the world standings. The second year he'd won the title—by default—when Drew Rawlins had scratched his final ride. This year Riley intended to prove the naysayers wrong. He'd had a hell of run during Cowboy Christmas, but he'd been slipping downhill since then.

"Ignore him." Sugar glared at Stover's retreating back. "Win or lose, you're the hottest cowboy on the circuit."

Too bad Riley's pretty face couldn't keep his butt glued to the saddle.

"Grab a seat folks and hang on to your hats." The rodeo announcer's voice boomed over the loud speakers. "The saddle-bronc competition is about to begin."

"Go get 'em, cowboy." Sugar kissed Riley's cheek then disappeared into the stands.

Rummaging through his gear bag, Riley found his chaps and gloves. He'd put his spurs on during the cab ride to the arena.

"Riley Fitzgerald from Lexington, Kentucky is up first."

An ear-splitting din echoed through the stands as the crowd stomped their boots on the aluminum bleachers. His confidence might have abandoned Riley but at least his fans hadn't.

"Fitzgerald's about to tangle with one of the orneriest broncs on the circuit."

Riley had ridden Peanut earlier in the season at the Coors Pro Rodeo in Gillette, Wyoming and the stallion had been hell on hooves. The gelding had practically thrown Riley into the rails. He snuggled his Stetson on his head—not that he expected the hat to stay on. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. Large, industrial air vents circulated the smell of horseflesh, urine soaked hay and sweaty cowboys through the air.

Gotta make it to eight.

He scaled the chute rails and slouched low in the saddle then worked the buck rein around his hand until the rope felt comfortable. As with most notorious broncs Peanut didn't flinch or twitch a muscle—he was every cowboy's best friend until the gate opened.

"You folks may not know that three years ago Fitzgerald won the National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association Championship in saddle bronc riding his senior year at UNLV. One might recall the story behind that ride..."

The facts surrounding his infamous ride had been embellished through the years until no one believed the truth—sheer luck and not skill had kept Riley in the saddle when Lucky Strike \jumped forward, kicking his back legs past vertical. The ride had vaulted Riley into instant \stardom and earned him sponsorship offers from Wrangler, Justin boots and Dodge trucks.

"Hang on, folks. The flagman's signaling a problem with the clock," the announcer said.

A sequence of slow-motion action shots played inside Riley's head as he envisioned his ride. First, he marked out the bronc—touched both heels above the horse's shoulders as the animal exploded from the chute. Peanut bucked, spun and back-jumped. Riley held on, his body moving in sync with the horse while spurring. The image abruptly vanished when loud music blasted through the arena.

"Fitzgerald dropped out of the standings this month. If he's gonna defend his title he's gotta win on the big buckers like Peanut."

Win—exactly what Riley intended to do.