In rural Montana... Wade Knowlton is a hardworking lawyer who's torn between his small-town Montana law practice and a struggling family ranch. He's on the brink of exhaustion from trying to save everybody and everything, when gorgeous Nicole Powell walks into his office. She's a damsel in distress and the breath of fresh air he needs.
Even the lawyers wear boots... Nicole Powell is a sassy Southern girl who has officially sworn off cowboys after a spate of bad seeds-until her father's death sends her to Montana and into the arms of a man who seems too good to be true. Her instincts tell her to high tail it out of Montana, but she can't resist a cowboy with a slow hand...
Praise for Victoria Vane's erotic romance:
"Erotic and sexy...absolutely marvelous." -Library Journal on the Devil DeVere series, a Top Ebook Romance of 2012
"The Mistress of Sensuality does it again!" -Swept Away By Romance
"With Ms Vane's trademark prose and touches of humor-this is once again a brilliant story by a gifted writer." -Romantic Historical Lovers Reviews
When first published, SLOW HAND hit the top #20 on both Amazon's and B&N's bestseller lists and was a #1 bestseller in contemporary Western romance.
Wade raked his hand through his sandy hair with a curse. “Damned vegan tree-huggers will destroy our entire state economy.”
Nikki grinned. “I take it you’re not a card-carrying member of the Green Party?”
“No.” His gaze narrowed and brows pulled into a frown. “You’re not one of them I hope.”
“Who me?” Nikki shook her head. “No, sir-ee, I’m a live-and-let-live Libertarian and a longtime omnivore. My grandparents had a chicken farm in Lavonia. I betcha didn’t know Georgia is the country’s biggest chicken producer.”
“No, ma’am.” His shoulders visibly relaxed. “I didn’t, but then I’m not a big chicken fan myself.”
She let her gaze travel over him in a slow appreciation of his tall, lean, muscular frame. She guessed he stood at least six-three in his boots. “I suppose not,” she said. “It would be only prime grass-fed beef and Idaho potatoes for you.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned on the door frame studying her. “Miz Powell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were undressing me with those pretty blue-green eyes of yours.”
A guilty flush infused her face but she refused to give him the advantage. She opted for a strong offense instead. “So what if I was? Weren’t you quite fixated on my ass at Denver airport?”
“You noticed that, eh?” His confession came with a shameless grin attached.
She jutted her chin. “Quid pro quo, Counselor. What do you say to that?”
He approached her slowly, the smile in his eyes transforming in a blink to a wicked gleam. A gleam that promised very bad things. His reply sent a warning signal to every nerve in her body. “I’d say, why just use your eyes?”
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French
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Unavailable for translation.
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German
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Unavailable for translation.
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