Homebound: A Novel - Softcover

Trapp, Meredith

 
9781668209059: Homebound: A Novel
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1668209055 ISBN 13: 9781668209059
Verlag: Atria/Emily Bestler Books, 2025

Inhaltsangabe

A charming and swoon-worthy second chance romance between Texas’s toughest female rodeo rider and the man determined to win her back—perfect for fans of Elena Armas and Lyla Sage.

Dakota and Wyatt. Growing up, they were as inseparable as a pair of cowboy boots. The best of friends…or so Dakota thought.

Every summer, Wyatt would come home to his family’s flower farm in Granite Falls, Texas, and they’d stargaze in the fields, pinkies brushing, laughter rumbling with the cicadas until one summer, he never returned.

Dakota hasn’t heard a peep from Wyatt in over three years, and during that time, a lot has changed. He’s the hockey world’s golden boy, and she’s developed a reputation as “The Cowboy Killer,” breaking both rodeo records and men’s hearts. The last thing Dakota needs is a distraction from her bull-riding goals, but everything changes when her old friend waltzes back into town with an adorable baby on his hip.

Wyatt’s back to get the girl he’s been obsessing over for years, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get her back—two-stepping at the rodeo, jumping into Cibolo Creek, even rendezvousing in outdoor showers. All Dakota wants is to keep her distance and focus on training, but when she learns the truth behind why Wyatt left, it turns out the scorching Texas sun might not be the only thing that burns them this summer.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Meredith Trapp is a professional daydreamer who writes romance full of spice, smooches, and swoons. She lives in Texas with her favorite people and one lazy poodle. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her walking beneath the Texas sun, chugging coffee, or curling up in bed with a book. To stay up to date on Meredith’s upcoming projects, connect with her on social media: @AuthorMeredithTrapp.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1: The Cowboy Killer: Wyatt 1 THE COWBOY KILLER Wyatt
She’s gonna have to ride ’em hard,” a cowboy drawls in the rodeo stands.

My eyes slide to the two guys next to me. One has a giant mustache, and the other has one of those old Western bolo ties around his neck. They blend into the crowd with their Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and felt Stetson hats.

Actually, who in their right mind wears a felt cowboy hat in the middle of a Texas summer?

That’s like putting a coat on your head in a dry sauna. They’re sweating more than me, but I’m used to tying my hair back to get it out of the way when I’m playing ice hockey.

But I’m sweating for an entirely different reason—nerves, not heat.

I shift my gaze to the arena, where cowboys kick up dust, getting ready for the bull riding. It’s the main event everyone gears up for at the small-town rodeo, and it’s the reason I’m scooting forward on the edge of these bleachers with my eyes glued to the chute, watching, searching for her.

The same her I haven’t stopped thinking about since I left this town three years ago, with my heart all kinds of black-and-blue. I didn’t expect my chest to hurt this much coming back to Granite Falls, but I can’t stop googling heart attack symptoms, which isn’t all that surprising.

I google everything now that I’m a dad.

“There’s no way she can stay on that bull for all eight seconds,” the mustached cowboy next to me grunts. “She’s been practicing on easier ones, and this one’s aggressive as all get-out.”

His friend shrugs. “She’s only got to make it six seconds since she’s in the Women’s Bull Riding League.”

“Yeah, but I hear our little Cowboy Killer’s been trying to stay on for all eight since she’s gunning for the PBR draft,” he says.

The Cowboy Killer.

I go rigid at the nickname, scooting closer on the bleachers to hear more of their conversation. The guy sips his beer, curling a lip. “Bet she doesn’t last four seconds on the back of that bull.”

Asshole.

“Bet she only makes it two,” the other one quips.

Make that two assholes.

I pull out a crinkled twenty, giving them my fiercest glare for betting against her. I’d bet my entire wallet on that woman. She saved my life all those years ago, so I owe her everything. “Twenty says she makes it all eight seconds on the back of that bull and then some.”

The cowboys scan my white T-shirt, their gazes fixating on the smashed pea stain left by my daughter, Vienna, this morning. I won’t sugarcoat it… I look like I puked on myself.

Fun times.

Thanks to my twelve-month-old baby girl, my laundry bill is through the roof, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Puke-green pea stains and all. She’s my mini-me—dirty-blond waves, big green eyes, and my cleft chin (or “chin butt,” as both my moms like to call it).

The cowboy with the Western bolo tie nods his hat to me. “I take it you’re a fan of our Cowboy Killer if you’re willing to go all in on a bet?”

“You could say that,” I huff out.

You could also say that I’ve been obsessed with that woman since I was eight, but I’m not about to get into a pissing contest with these guys. I might play for the NHL, but I’m a lover, not a fighter.

“So, how do y’all know her?” I drawl, aiming for casual and coming up short. My accent always thickens when I come back home.

They smirk at each other.

The guy strokes his mustache. “Our Cowboy Killer’s got a bit of a… reputation ’round here in Granite Falls.”

I narrow my eyes. He better not be insinuating what I think he is. “For being one of the best bull riders in the state of Texas?”

That damn well better be what he means.

“Nah, she’s been having some trouble staying on lately, so it’s not that…” The cowboy’s smirk deepens.

I don’t like that smug look. Not one bit, and I can already tell I’m going to hate whatever comes out of his mouth.

“It’s for riding cowboys as hard as she rides bulls.” He chortles, his mustache twitching.

It’s the gut punch I was waiting for, but at least that’s something that hasn’t changed. She always had a boy following her around every summer I came back to Windmill Meadow Ranch. My family owns a boutique flower provider for small-town businesses in the Texas Hill Country. It’s a family business, and all my aunts and uncles help manage the ranch during the winter months since we only come back from Nashville during the summers.

The other cowboy slaps his knee. “She’ll kill you, wreck you up nice and good if you’re not careful, but it’ll be a hell of a way to go. Didn’t you hear what she did to Boone? Poor guy.”

I tense up. Boone Bowman. There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while, and one I’d be happy to never hear again.

“I’d be careful how you speak about her if I were you,” I grit out.

As much as I want to tell these guys off, I grind my teeth so I don’t let any choice words slip out. My baby girl is a little sponge, soaking up every word I say.

I try to limit the cursing, even when she’s not around. Not that I mind a woman who curses. In fact, I like a woman with a dirty mouth. But I don’t want all the parents in daycare side-eyeing me if my daughter goes around squealing fuck.

So unfortunately, that means I can’t say what I’m thinking—and what I’m thinking is that these guys playing cowboy dress-up need a weeklong seminar on how to respect a woman.

The mustache guy slides his gaze to me. “Let me guess… You’ve been wrecked by her too?”

My fists clench, but I stay silent out of respect for her. These small towns and their gossip. It’s not the gray-haired ladies that keep the rumor mills churning; it’s the rowdy cowboys who can’t keep their mouths shut.

The only way to keep a secret in a small town is to tell it to your dog.

They continue talking while my grip tightens and tightens on my knees. Jealousy rips through me the more I hear about all the cowboys she’s apparently wrecked, but I’ve been stuck in the friend zone for over a decade, so I’m used to the feeling. I spent all my summers watching every boy in this town fall at her boots.

Everyone wanted her. But me, I was desperate for her—still am.

Every summer I came back to Texas, she always had some new guy wrapped around her finger, and I was always, without fail, the giant third wheel.

I thought getting my braces off would change things.

I thought having my acne clear up would make her see me differently.

I thought she’d finally notice me after I packed on twenty pounds of pure, solid muscle.

But I’d thought wrong.

I blame it on the fact that she’s two years older than me, which in the big scheme of life is nothing, but when...

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Verlag
Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2025
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1668209055
ISBN 13 
9781668209059
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
352
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Simon and Schuster Netherlands BV
info@simonandschuster.nl

Herculesplein 96
Utrecht
3584 AA
Niederlande

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