Cowboy Trouble by Joanne KennedyCowboy Trouble by Joanne Kennedy

Cowboy Trouble

byJoanne Kennedy

Mass Market Paperback | March 1, 2010

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A cowboy like that could break your heart? Fleeing her latest love-life disaster, big city journalist Libby Brown's transition to rural living isn't going exactly as planned. Her childhood dream has always been to own a farm-but without the constant help of her charming, sexy cowboy neighbor, she'd never make it through her first Wyoming season.Handsome rancher Luke Rawlins is impressed by this sassy, independent city girl, but he yearns todo more than help Libby out with her ranch. He's ready for love, and he wants to go the distance. When the two get embroiled in their tiny town's one and only crime story, Libby discovers that their sizzling hot attraction is going to complicate her life in every way possible? Praise for Cowboy Trouble: A fresh take on the traditional contemporary Western? There's plenty of wacky humor and audacious wit in this mystery-laced escapade." -Library Journal Contemporarywestern fans will enjoy this one!" -The Romantic Times"Everything about Kennedy's charming debut novel hits the right marks? you'll be hooked." -BookLoons"
Joanne Kennedy's lifelong fascination with Wyoming's unique blend of past and present inspires her to write contemporary Western romances with traditional ranch settings. In 2010 she was nominated for a RITA award for One Fine Cowboy. At various times, Joanne has dabbled in horse training, chicken farming, and bridezilla wrangling at a...
Title:Cowboy TroubleFormat:Mass Market PaperbackDimensions:416 pages, 6.88 × 4.19 × 1.11 inPublished:March 1, 2010Publisher:SourcebooksLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:1402236689

ISBN - 13:9781402236686

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Read from the Book

A chicken will never break your heart. Not that you can't love a chicken. There are some people in this world who can love just about anything. But a chicken will never love you back. When you look deep into their beady little eyes, there's not a lot of warmth there-just an avarice for worms and bugs and, if it's a rooster, a lot of suppressed anger and sexual frustration.They don't return your affection in any way.Expectations, relationship-wise, are right at rock bottom.That's why Libby Brown decided to start a chicken farm. She wanted some company, and she wanted a farm, but she didn't want to go getting attached to things like she had in the past. She'd been obsessed with farms since she was a kid. It all started with her Fisher Price Farmer Joe Play Set: a plastic barn, some toy animals, and a pair of round headed baby dolls clutching pitchforks like some simpleminded version of American Gothic. A Fisher Price life was the life for her.Take Atlanta-just give her that countryside.Libby had her pickup half unloaded when her new neighbor showed up. She didn't see him coming, so he got a prime view of her posterior as she bent over the tailgate, wrestling with the last of her chrome dinette chairs. The chair was entangled in the electric cord from the toaster, so he got a prime introduction to her vocabulary too."Howdy," he said.Howdy? She turned to face him and stifled a snort. Halloween was three months away, but this guy was ready with his cowboy costume. Surely no one actually wore chaps in real life, even in Wyoming. His boots looked like the real thing, though; they were worn and dirty as if they'd kicked around God-knows-what in the old corral, and his gray felt Stetson was all dented, like a horse had stepped on it. A square, stubbled chin gave his face a masculine cast, but there was something soft about his mouth that added a hint of vulnerability. She hopped down from the tailgate. From her perch on the truck, he'd looked like the Marlboro Man on a rough day, but now that they were on the same level, she could see he was kind of cute-like a young Clint Eastwood with a little touch of Elvis."Howdy," he said again. He actually tipped his hat and she almost laughed for the first time in a month."I'm Luke Rawlins, from down the road," he continued. The man obviously had no idea how absurd he looked, decked out like a slightly used version of Hopalong Cassidy. "Thought maybe you'd need some help moving in. And I brought you a casserole-Chicken Artichoke Supreme. It's my specialty." He held out a massive ceramic dish with the pride of a caveman returning from the hunt. "Or maybe you could use a hand getting that chair broke to ride." Great. She had the bastard son of John Wayne and Martha Stewart for a neighbor. And he thought he was funny.Worse yet, he thought she was funny."Thanks." She took the casserole. "I'm Libby Brown. Are you from that farm with the big barn?""Farm? I'm not from any farm." Narrowing his eyes, he slouched against the truck and folded his arms."You're not from around here, are you?" "What makes you say that?""You calling my ranch a farm, that's what." A blade of wheatgrass bobbed from one corner of his mouth as he looked her up and down with masculine arrogance. "There's no such thing as a farm in Wyoming," he said."Well, what do you call this, then?" Libby gestured toward the sun-baked outbuildings that tilted drunkenly around her own personal patch of prairie."A ranch.""That's not what I call it. I call it 'Lackaduck Farm.'" She pointed to the faded letters arched over the barn's wide double doors. "That's what the people before me called it too. It's even painted on the barn.""Yeah, well, they weren't from around here either. They were New Yorkers and got smacked on the bottom and sent home by Mother Nature. Thought they'd retire out here on some cheap real estate and be gentleman farmers. They didn't realize there's a reason the real estate's cheap. It's tough living." He looked her in the eye, no doubt judging her unfit for a life only real men could endure. "You think you're up to it?""As a matter of fact, I am." Libby hoped she sounded a lot more confident than she felt. "This is what I've always wanted, and I'm going to make it work."