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       “If I kiss you, I probably won’t like it.”

      Suz winked. “And then what motivation do I have to win the race? I’d just toss you back into the pond for Daisy.”

      Cisco drew back, startled. “That wouldn’t be good.”

      Suz nodded. “It could be horrible. You could be a wet kisser. Eww.”

      “I really don’t think I am.” His ego took a small dent.

      “You could be a licky kisser.”

      “Pretty sure I’m just right, like Goldilock’s bed,” he said, his ego somewhere down around his boots and flailing like a leaf on the ground in the breeze.

      “I don’t know,” Suz said thoughtfully. “Friends don’t let friends kiss friends.”

      “I’m not that good of a friend.”

      “You really want a kiss, don’t you?”

      He perked up at these heartening words that seemed to portend a softening in her stance. “I sure do.”

      “Hope you get someone to kiss you one day, then. See you around, Cisco.”

      The Twins’

      Rodeo Rider

      Tina Leonard

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      TINA LEONARD is a USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author of more than fifty projects, including several popular mini-series. Known for bad-boy heroes and smart, adventurous heroines, her books have made the USA TODAY, Waldenbooks, Ingram and Nielsen BookScan bestseller lists. Born on a military base, Tina lived in many states before eventually marrying the boy who did her crayon printing for her in the first grade. You can visit her at tinaleonard.com, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      Francisco Rodriguez Olivier Grant stared at the very petite, very darling woman dressing him down. Suz Hawthorne giving a man hell was an impressive sight despite her five foot two and a half inch size, due to the streaky blue-in-blond hair, strategically placed cheek studs, a tiny diamond stud in her nose and a miniscule silver loop in her right eyebrow. Though they were small and delicately designed, her tats spoke loudly of her rebel status—a fragile red rose on one wrist, and a beautiful, delicate Celtic cross on the other. When a man adored a woman like he adored Suz, being in her line of fire was enough to nail a man’s boots to the ground—and his boots were nailed down good.

      “Here’s the deal, so pay attention.” Suz put her hands on her rounded, feminine hips, guiding his eyes farther down her oh-so-delicious body. Well, he just knew her body would feel delicious—if he could get his hands on it.

      “I’m paying close attention.”

      “All right. I can’t bring myself to call you Frog like everybody else does. I’ve never seen a man look less frog-like or toadly in my life. There’s nothing amphibious about you, beyond your ability to swim.”

      He started to say, “I don’t care what you call me as long as you call me,” then realized that would sound desperate. Or something. “Thanks.”

      “Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

      Suz’s brain was a wonder to contemplate, and right now, operating about two gears faster than his. Mainly because he was sidelined by what he belatedly recognized as surefire, 100 percent lust. “What’s settled?”

      “Your name.”

      He grinned at the sweet-’n’-sassy bombshell, who was disarming him completely. “You’re going to call me Francisco Rodriguez Olivier Grant every time you speak to me?”

      “No. From now on, you’re just Cisco.”

      He took that in.

      “Perhaps your silence means you’re not crazy about that. But Frog just isn’t working for me.”

      “Fine. I don’t care. Address me as Santa Claus if you want.” He got his swagger back and then some, kind of impressed that she wanted to call him Cisco. There were probably any number of legendary hanging, swinging badasses that had been called Cisco over time.

      Not so many named Frog. He’d been named Frog courtesy of his SEAL brothers, because he could outswim just about every man around.

      “Frog” was fine under certain conditions. But when a man wanted a woman thinking about him—and a dynamite package

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