Posted in excerpt, Giveaway, romance, Texas on December 16, 2017


A Twilight, Texas Novel



  Genre:  Contemporary Holiday Romance

Date of Publication: October 27, 2017

Publisher: Avon

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Number of Pages: 400

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New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Lori Wilde’s Twilight, TX Christmas novels are beloved for their emotional depth and ability to capture the sweetness of the holiday season. In her latest Twilight, Texas novel, COWBOY, IT’S COLD OUTSIDE, the holiday season is once again full of romance and surprises.

Everyone in town knows that Christmas in Twilight has a way of bringing lovers together . . . but will its magic bring this pair from “I won’t” to “I do?”

Wearing a too-tight “Santa Baby” costume held in by a double pair of Spanx, Paige MacGregor runs headlong into a gorgeous, grey-eyed hunk of a long, tall cowboy. And not just any cowboy, but country-western star Cash Colton, visiting Twilight to perform in a charity concert. Most women would melt at his feet, but Paige knows all-too-much about self-assured men with cocky attitudes, so she tells him to get lost.

Cash is in town, nursing his own broken heart, but Paige has knocked him off his feet. He’s convinced she’s perfect—someone to inspire his music and share his now-empty bed. True, he’s not marriage material, but he’s determined to convince her that they’re perfect together—at least for a while. But what he doesn’t count on is falling in love with the one woman who isn’t about to give him the time of day!

“When it comes to striking exactly the right balance between sweet and sexy, Wilde has the equivalent of perfect pitch.” – Booklist



“Dance with me,” she said abruptly, and held out a hand.

“You want to dance?”

“You’ve convinced me that I need to have more fun.”

Waltzing with her, holding her close, was dangerous. He hesitated. She looked at him, anticipation on her lips, a beguiling smile. The boat would soon pass by. The music would drift away. He’d have her in his arms no more than a couple of minutes.

“Paige,” he murmured, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

She looked so enchanting, those sparkling hazel eyes full of life and joy. Then she whispered the magic word. “Please.”

Weak man that he was, Cash gave in. Reached out. Took her palm. Wrapped her in his arms.

She was light on her feet. Graceful. Controlled. She knew what she was doing. He led her across the small box of the living area, a neat square suddenly filled with motion and feeling. He hadn’t waltzed in a long time.

Paige interlaced her fingers through his hands, leaned her head against his chest as they danced as a unit. His hand was around her shoulder as she clung to him. One-two-three. One-two-three.

They turned, stepping back a bit as they danced like characters from a Hallmark Christmas movie. Eyes glued to each other. Hands melded. Feet floating in perfect rhythm. The houseboat rocking gently with their movements. Outside the window the snow was a wild flurry now.

It was the most damn romantic thing he’d ever done in his life, and he wanted to keep waltzing for- ever.

But the paddleboat slid away, the music growing fainter and fainter until they were dancing to nothing but the sound of their comingled breaths.

Cash had to find a way out of this before it was too late. Before he was too far gone.

“I’ve had a great time,” Cash whispered, letting go of her, stepping back. “It’s been lots of fun—”

She leaned into him, her smile a fishing lure, hooking him, reeling him back to her. “So much fun.”

He pressed his chin to the top of her head, loosened his arms from around her waist. “It’s getting late.”

“Is there any of that sangria left?” She peered around his shoulder at the kitchen table. “It was delicious.”

“I think we killed it . . .” He could see the pitcher from where they were standing. There was a third of it left.

“I don’t think we did.” Her eyes took on a naughty sheen.

He dropped his hands to his sides, felt like a wooden toy soldier. “You have to get up early . . .”

“I can easily get by on just a few hours of sleep.” “It’s well after midnight . . .” He rotated his wrist so she could see the face of his watch.

She turned up the sugar on her smile. “I don’t have to be up until six.”

“Fritzi needs his beauty rest . . .” His own voice was a desperate climber stuck in the death zone on Mount Everest.

They both turned to stare at the poodle curled into a little ball on the back of the couch, snoring softly.

“Looks like he’s getting by,” she said.

Cash inched toward the front door. “I’ll get your coat and . . .”

Paige went to the window, peered out at the rap- idly falling snow. “It’s really coming down. The dock will be slick.”

He opened the small closet, waved at pair of brown fisherman’s boots. “There are rubber boots—”

“The electricity is out. It’s pitch-black. I won’t be able to see my hands in front of my face.”

“I’ve got a flashlight.” He reached for his coat, settled his Stetson on his head. “I’ll walk you home—”

“Cowboy, it’s cold outside, and the fire is so toasty.” She scooted over to the fireplace, warmed her hands in front of the gas flames.

He draped their coats over his arm, put his hand on the doorknob. “This town is full of gossips and—”

“There’s no one around. We’re out here in the marina all on our own at this time of night on a cold December evening.”

A fifth generation Texan, Lori Wilde is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of 82 works of fiction. She’s a three-time nominee of the Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA award and has won numerous other awards. She holds a bachelor’s degree in nursing from Texas Christian University, and a certificate in forensics. She is also a certified Hatha yoga instructor, and runs a yoga/creativity retreat for artists at Epiphany Orchards in Weatherford, Texas, the Cutting Horse Capital of the World.

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