I am the first to put my hand up when I see a new cowboy romance hit the shelves, which is probably why I love to write cowboys. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it. 😉 But what is it about the idea of a cowboy that we love? What’s the draw?
Just for fun (my husband is sitting here rolling his eyes as I giggle away) here are my top 10 reasons to love a cowboy….
The Boots & the Buckle & the Hat
I grew up in the suburbs of Austin but far enough out that ranching kids attended my school. After that was Texas A&M. And I can tell you, the look—fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans that show off…err…everything, the boots, the buckle, the hat. Especially if its roughed up a bit and has a bit of wear to it—because it’s not for show then. All if it looks good on a man.
Cowboys are raised tough. They learn a strong work ethic early on. They learn to suck it up when they get kicked by a horse or cut. Someone that hard, that self-sufficient, but then the thought of how soft they could be for the right woman… Yeah.
The Way He Handles a Horse
If you’ve ever seen a cowboy—a real one—handle a horse. Something about the confidence when managing a huge, powerful animal like that, makes you think he could handle anything.
Rough & Ready
The cowboys of my experience don’t back down. They’re not afraid to stand up for what they believe in and get a little rough doing so.
Raised with Manners
I’m a southern gal, and I appreciate a man with old-fashioned manners. Just because I’m an independent, intelligent, awesome women doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a door being opened, a hand at my back, and a “yes ma’am” in that southern drawl.
The Glint in His Eye
Okay, admittedly this comes more from the movies. But it seems like every movie cowboy has that glint in his eye. A little something that says he knows about…fun.
Edge of Danger
Any man who would be willing to try to go 8 seconds on the back of a bucking bull is one who can look danger in the eye…and grin.
Cowboys work hard, every day. Grueling physical work. So they gotta have some muscles. Most cowboys I meet are lean and hard.
Down to Earth
Maybe it’s the work they do that puts things into perspective, but I don’t see most cowboys tweeting about #firstworldproblems. That’s because they are too busy dealing with real world problems. Every cowboy I’ve met is down to earth and straight talking. Nothing sexier than that.
Ranches tend to be a long way from easy civilization (in general), which means a cowboy has to do for himself. Someone who learns to rely on themselves to solve problems just seems like they would be capable in general.
Bonus Reason – The Way They Move
Especially dance. And no, I’m not talking about the lame line dancing featured in every country movie ever. I’m talking two-stepping.
What about you? What is it that you love about a cowboy? Maybe you’d love to meet Williams Hill, the hero in my latest release, Resisting the Rancher!
Rusty Walker has spent her entire life trying to earn her tough, ranching father’s respect and approval by learning the business inside and out. But now her uncompromising parent has decreed she must marry if she wants to inherit. Worse, her husband has to be someone who can help her run the business. As if she needs it!
Williams Hill kissed Rusty in a bar in an act of temporary insanity, and lost his heart to her on the spot. Despite the complications to his own rodeo stock business, he agrees to marry the feisty red-head, hoping to woo her once they’re hitched. But she only views him with suspicion and resentment.
Can this soft-spoken Texas cowboy convince his proud wife, who’s never known unconditional love, that she is everything he wants?
Romance Western [Tule Publishing, On Sale: July 30, 2018, e-Book, ISBN: 2940162072225 / eISBN: 9781949068412]
Rusty caught a whiff of cigarette smoke hanging around the man who’d taken the stool beside her. She didn’t bother to look over, keeping her eyes on her drink hoping he’d get the hint and go away.
No such luck.
He leaned forward and raised his voice. “Hey there, red.”
She turned her head and could now see he was swaying slightly. He gave a slow blink, trying to focus, obviously drunk. Great. She didn’t acknowledge the guy in any other way, but apparently looking at him was enough encouragement.
She held up her glass. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“My treat when you’re done with that.”
“I’m leaving when I’m done with this.” Maybe sooner at this rate.
He reached out and tugged on her arm. “Now don’t be like that.”
Rusty sighed. “I’m not interested.” She couldn’t be clearer than that.
The guy, who was good-looking enough—tall, blond, strong chin, and nice eyes—bristled visibly.
He straightened his back as his eyebrows lowered. “All I did was offer to buy you a drink.”
She turned back to the one she already had. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Move along.” She waved a hand as though shooing a fly.
He stood suddenly, his stool scraping along the wooden floor with a screech of protest loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter. In the mirror, several heads turned in their direction. Travis and Dave stood up, ready to intervene, but before they could do anything, and even before the jerk could say anything else, let alone touch her, a large hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around in her seat.
“Sorry I’m late, baby,” the newcomer murmured.
Rusty only had time to register the new player in the scene was that Will guy with the blue, blue eyes before he leaned forward and kissed her.
She gave a little squeak of protest and he released her lips immediately. The sudden absence of warmth left her feeling slightly bereft, which was crazy since he’d barley brushed his lips across hers.
Before she could process what just happened, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Follow along and we’ll get rid of this guy.”
Realizing he was now standing between her legs, she hid the shiver sliding down her spine by giving him a tiny nod. He pulled back and smiled down into her eyes. The blue of his eyes, up close like this, was nothing short of startling. The irises were rimmed in black which somehow made the blue even bluer. She could drown in those depths, like falling into the sky, or the deepest of oceans. She had the strangest urge to trace the cleft in his chin.
“Miss me?” he asked, loud enough for the ass on the other stool to hear.
“Of course,” she purred.
Some small part of her brain registered that wasn’t exactly a lie. She’d spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about him given their two extremely brief shared moments. They hadn’t even been properly introduced or exchanged more than a handful of words.
“Me too,” he said as he lowered his lips to hers again.