Not For Sale

I'm gonna have to show her how things are done out in the country.
Felicity Hamilton is everything I expect a New Yorker to be: classy, sassy, and a royal pain in the butt. And she doesn't understand the first thing about life in Montana.

I know her type, city girls looking for a hook-up that's different and wild, as long as they can go back to their pedicures and fancy cocktails the next day.

Everything about her makes me sweat. But is she working for me? Or for the corporation trying to buy my ranch?

This ranch has been in my family for three generations. Some sexy little slip of a girl from downtown coming in here and telling me how to run my business? Not happening.

Although I'm big enough to admit that maybe spanking that bare butt of hers wasn't the right way to deal with this.
Even though I know she liked it.

Truth is, she's all I can think about. I crave her, but I don't know if I can trust her.

I'm burning to be with her, but if she thinks I'll give up the ranch without a fight, she'll find out just how cold a Montana winter can be.