Kitty Valentine Dates a Cowboy Read online

  Table Of Contents

  Title page

  Copyright page

  About this book

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  KITTY VALENTINE

  Dates a Cowboy

  ————————————————————-

  JILLIAN DODD

  Copyright © 2020 by Jillian Dodd

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal use only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with someone, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you love swoonworthy boys, strong heroines, and epic love stories.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Jillian Dodd, Inc.

  Madeira Beach, FL

  Jillian Dodd is a registered trademark of Jillian Dodd, Inc.

  Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com

  ISBN: : 978-1-953071-04-0

  SPIN THE WHEEL. DATE THE GUY.

  Six years ago, debut author Kitty Valentine took the book world by storm when her sweet romance hit #1 on the New York Times Best Sellers list, which was followed by a string of successful releases.

  Her latest novel totally bombed, causing her publisher to suggest she write much sexier books.

  To Kitty, writing smut is the literary equivalent of stripping.

  But with no advance coming in and her royalties dipping to an all-time low, Kitty has no choice.

  Armed with a romance-trope spinning prize wheel made by her best friend, listing all the different types of men she will date and then write about, Kitty will be spinning—not stripping—her way back onto the best-sellers list.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “You need time off,” my editor scolds.

  “Are you kidding me, Maggie? I just returned from the islands.”

  “Kitty, I saw your posts, and I know it wasn’t all fun and games. You haven’t been the same since you got back. Do you realize you gave the heroine’s best friend three different names over the course of this book?”

  “Sure. I totally did that on purpose.”

  “Kitty …”

  No, of course I didn’t notice the problem with the names. And that isn’t like me.

  “I was just trying to keep you on your toes,” I tease.

  Normally, Maggie finds my sense of humor charming. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  She is not so impressed this time around. “That’s it. I’m putting my foot down. Frankly, I know I’m to blame for this.”

  “For what?”

  “For driving you as hard as I’ve been. Granted, I don’t call the shots, but I do have enough pull that I could stick up for you. You’re not a machine. You are a person, and you’re clearly in the midst of serious burnout.”

  My head snaps back so hard, it’s amazing I don’t give myself whiplash. “That’s not true. I can handle it.”

  “Tell me the truth. When was the last time you showered?”

  I am so proud of myself too. “This morning, thank you very much.” I even sound smug when I say it, like I did some amazing thing by washing myself.

  “Here’s a better question. When you sent me this file with the three-named best friend, when was the last time you showered before then?”

  “I would like to plead the Fifth,” I grumble.

  “I thought so.”

  “That’s always the case. Ask any writer. When you’re getting close to a deadline, you want everything to be perfect, and some things tend to fall by the wayside.” Like bathing. Or brushing teeth. Or drinking anything but coffee and other caffeinated beverages.

  “Regardless, you’re slipping. This isn’t criticism, trust me. It’s concern. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and you aren’t normally sloppy. You need some time off.”

  “Fine,” I huff.

  “Kitty, I’m just looking out for you. You’ve had a grueling schedule since we started with the tropes. As much as I want to keep you moving, I also know when to give you time to recharge. Now that the best-man book is finished, I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. Refresh and reset. We can talk in a few weeks.”

  “Okay, Maggie. I hear you loud and clear.”

  “Good. Now, maybe go find a man for fun.”

  “Right, like I could do that in two weeks.”

  “Anything is possible when you’re young, Kitty.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Good-bye, Maggie.”

  “Bye, Kitty.”

  Needless to say, I do not go look for a man. For two weeks, I mostly do things that I have been neglecting around the apartment. Now, here I sit on the rooftop, trying to soak up every last bit of sunshine and relaxation I possibly can.

  The opening and closing of the roof door brings me out of my trance.

  “I’m sure if your grandmother were here, she’d warn you about getting too much sun.”

  Matt stands over me, hands on his hips. I can’t see much of him, even with my sunglasses on, thanks to the sun being behind him. But I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. I’m used to hearing it by now.

  “I use plenty of sunscreen, thank you. And you’re blocking the sun. Now, my tan is going to be uneven.”

  “Oh, the horror!” He crosses his hands over his chest and gasps.

  “I know you can’t see my eyes right now because of the glasses, but trust me, I’m rolling them.”

  He chuckles, going to the spot under the ledge where he stores his chair. “I needed a little fresh air. It’s been a tough couple of days. The market’s been volatile.”

  “So, that’s why I keep hearing you muttering and cursing to yourself over there.”

  “You can hear that?”

  “Every once in a while. You know, only when I’m trying to take a nap because I’m supposed to be recharging. It’s no big deal.”

  “Recharging, or did you need naps after moving your furniture around at all hours of the night?”

  “You heard that?” I ask sheepishly.

  “Yeah, I heard that.”

  Oops. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just decided on a
whim that it would be fun to shake things up. Rearrange my furniture. Like they do on those house shows. It’s amazing, all the design tips you can learn during a few weeks off. Maybe you need to take a little time off. I bet it would do wonders for you.”

  “Oh, sure. It’s been doing wonders for you.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” I raise myself up on one elbow, pushing up my glasses and resting them in my hair.

  He’s stretched out in his chair, like always, his bare feet practically in my face. I have to shove them away, and he snorts like the pesky big-brother figure he’s turned into. “Let’s start with the fact that you’ve rearranged your furniture at least twice in the past two weeks.”

  “What’s so weird about that? I wanted a change. And that’s the sort of thing people do when they have time off. All the little things they’ve been wanting to do but they were too busy.”

  “And how many times have you rearranged your books?”

  “I do that all the time anyway!”

  “And you finally opened up the jigsaw puzzle Hayley had gotten you for Christmas two years ago, which had been sitting in its box under the TV stand ever since. You told me so.”

  “Hey, that was a really cool present, and I felt like it deserved to be used.”

  Honestly, it’s the coolest thing in the entire world. Hayley gathered hardcover versions of all of my books, arranged them, took a picture, and then had it made into a jigsaw puzzle.

  “But you only put the border together. It’s been sitting on the floor in the same place with the same amount of work put into it for two weeks.”

  “What is even the point of inviting you into my apartment when all you’re going to do is criticize? And I’m sorry, but since when do you take notes on the things I do? You’re starting to freak me out a little bit. Are you looking into taking up stalking as a second job?”

  He shoots me a withering look.

  “Or maybe private investigation?” I suggest.

  “This is what friends do, Kitty. They point out when they feel like their friend is going off the deep end a little. I went in your kitchen yesterday to grab forks and saw you’d alphabetized your spice collection. I could eat off your kitchen floor; it’s so squeaky clean.”

  “You’re more than welcome to give it a try, if that’s what you’re into.” I settle back down, pushing my sunglasses firmly back into place.

  “I’m just trying to say, you’re a workaholic.”

  “Gee, I had no idea.”

  “People like you and me, we can’t handle having nothing to do. And, yes, we tend to burn out very easily. You should start running with me in the mornings. I find it helps me focus and clears my head.”

  “That’s why I practice yoga. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the rolled-up mat in the corner while you were so busy with investigating the jigsaw puzzle on the floor. And you’ll notice, I’ve been eating a lot more vegetables and salads lately to make up for going off the deep end when I was on a deadline.”

  “Yeah, and look at all the good it’s doing you—your yoga practice and salads. You’re still wound up tighter than … I don’t know what.” He shrugs. “You’re the writer. You have all the words.”

  I have more than a few words for him, come to think of it. “You know I don’t like receiving unsolicited advice.”

  “Because you always take it as criticism. Sometimes, when people make observations, it’s because they’re genuinely concerned. News flash: people care about you.”

  I know he means it. And deep down, in the rational part of my brain, it means a lot to hear it. A writer’s life is a lonely one. We tend to live in our own worlds, worlds we make up from scratch. We don’t go to the office every day; there’s nobody to monitor us.

  If anything, Matt is the closest thing to a coworker I’ve ever had. I’ve been lucky enough to make a career of writing ever since college, so I never went through the whole nine-to-five schedule.

  He’s the one person I see almost every day. Sure, I visit Grandmother and Peter at least once a week, and Hayley and I see each other whenever she has time.

  But that’s it.

  I have to take a deep breath and slowly let it out before responding. Crow has never been my favorite thing to eat, but it looks like I have a serving waiting for me. “Thank you,” I manage. “I’m not used to having a lot of people in my life who genuinely care.”

  He’s quiet for a minute.

  I finally look up at him. “Well? Did I kill you?”

  “Just about. You must’ve gotten too much sun if you’re thanking me all of a sudden.”

  “Maybe I have, but that’s not the point.” I sit up, looking at him straight on. “Thank you. I’m trying to be a better person. More thoughtful, less argumentative.”

  “Oh. Don’t change too much.”

  “Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I imagined you would jump up and click your heels.”

  “Well, you can keep imagining that, because it will never happen.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He offers an actual, genuine smile. “Kitty, if I had such a problem with your argumentative attitude and your complete stubbornness, would I even talk to you anymore? Granted, having lunch or dinner in your apartment gives me a break from mine, but I could go just about anywhere. I like you the way you are. Mostly.”

  “You just had to slide that last word in there, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did.” He gives me a smug wink. “I mean, would you expect anything else?”

  “Honestly, no. I know better by now.” I roll onto my stomach to get a little sun on my back.

  “Want some help?” When I look up at Matt, he’s holding up his hands. “Sunscreen. It’s not summer yet, but the sun will still burn you up. Especially since you’re not, um, the outdoorsy type.”

  “Okay, but don’t get handsy with me.” I give him the bottle and settle my chin on my folded arms.

  He snickers. “Right. Do you remember how we officially met?”

  “What about it?”

  “You threw up all over my rug—”

  “Which I will replace! I keep telling you!”

  “And then you stripped down to nothing and passed out in my bed. Now, I ask you, if I didn’t get handsy with you that night, why would I do it now that I actually know you and know all the baggage you come with?”

  “You are such a jerk!” I jump a little at the sensation of sunscreen hitting my back. “I don’t have baggage.”

  “No, you’re right. But you definitely have issues.”

  “Why do I even talk to you?”

  “Because you find my sense of humor so endearing.”

  “Oh, a sense of humor? That’s what you call it?”

  I would keep going, but there’s a problem brewing. A problem caused by the hands now sliding over my back, my shoulders, the back of my neck.

  Here’s the thing.

  Matt’s seriously hot. Like, breathtakingly hot. Back in the day, before that whole unfortunate getting drunk and puking and stripping incident, I was too intimidated by his looks to even talk to him. For an entire year in fact.

  That hotness hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s like he gets better-looking all the time. It’s so unfair that men age well. Not that he’s old. But time shouldn’t work its magic on him like it does.

  “Would you relax?” He digs his thumbs into my shoulders while rubbing the lotion in. “God, you’re a mass of knots.”

  Yeah, because I don’t know what to do with the weird, fluttery feeling he’s giving me.

  I seriously need to get a grip on myself. This is Matt. My annoying neighbor from across the hall, who I wouldn’t love nearly as much if it wasn’t for his adorable dog. So what if he happens to be scorchingly hot? The funny thing is, I used to get so nervous around him that I never uttered a word to him.

  I honestly haven’t thought much about his hotness in a long time. Now that I’ve gotten to know him better, his sarcasm and unceasing
devotion to knocking me down a peg or two have superseded the effect his looks have on me.

  But right now? With his rather large, rather strong hands rubbing sunscreen into my skin?

  It’s all I can think about. And things are about to get worse if he doesn’t stop.

  “Thanks. I think I’m okay.” I scramble up to my hands and knees and then stand on shaky legs. “Actually, I think I should head inside. I’ve been out here for way too long. I feel a little woozy.”

  He rubs his hands together, like he’s getting rid of the rest of the lotion on his palms.

  Is he grinning? Why is he grinning? Dear Lord, does he think he turned me on just now?

  Would he be entirely wrong if he did think that?

  “Drink a lot of water,” he advises. “Rest. Keep yourself cool. You do look awfully flushed and worked up.”

  “Sure, sure. Will do.” I can’t even look at him. It would be like getting heated up over my brother or a cousin or something. It’s gross.

  Matt’s the last person in the world I need to be crushing on. He is only good for sharing takeout with and occasionally venting to when things in my life go south.

  Besides, as soon as I get back to work, it’ll mean getting back to dating my next trope. I haven’t figured out who I’ll be writing about yet, but something tells me a few rounds of hot and heavy action, just like I had with Kellen, will set me back on the right track.

  Because the last thing I need in my life is a crush on Matt. He would never let me live it down. I would have to move or something, and the very thought of that makes my stomach turn. But I would still rather put up with packing and moving and settling in someplace else than with the possibility of dying from embarrassment every time our paths cross.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “So, how do you feel about starting work again?”

  I can tell Hayley the truth. I don’t feel like I have to put on any fake confidence with her. “God, I can’t wait. I’ve been going nuts with nothing to do.”