DYNOMITE





I met him on the shittiest day of my life.
And being arrested for prostitution wasnt the worst part.

Legend had it my new stepbrother was called Dynomite because, well, he spewed like a raging volcano.

That only made me hate him more, thinking about his damned volcano.  I loathed him and his arrogant vanity, his smug self-assurance.  Dyno Drummond had no reason for vanity as far as I could tell.   He was just an outlaw, a horse that couldn’t be tamed, a down and dirty vaquero who dreamed of being a rodeo star.

He busted his way into my life, my house, fucking everything that walked.  Not me. I was Miss Squarepants, Head Bitch, holier-than-thou cheerleader who couldn’t be touched.  Dyno called me a Force-Me Queen.  If only I knew what that meant.

My football playing boyfriend was a brainless goon.  My BFF coveted and loathed Dyno just as I did.  Dyno’s only friend was the alcoholic Native American, Sequoia, the kid on the fast track to nowhere.

Seven years ago, the shit hit the fan.  Dyno left, did a few tours as a SEAL, and came back different—decorated, mature.  He thinks he’s tough enough to rejoin the circuit and become a bareback bronc champ again.  He thinks he can break me, too.  Well, he’s got another thing coming.

I don’t break easily.

Bad cowboy.
Go to my room.