Submit a book review
booksXYZ price: $16.95
$0.85 of your order (5%) will be donated to the school of your choice.
VIEW MORE BOOKS LIKE THIS ONE
Dorian Elliot Falkner III is the prettiest and richest man in Wyoming. He rounds a corner of the Falkner Building in downtown Cheyenne and careens into Ainsley-Brooke Marker, That Wyoming Woman, who (unknown to him, of course), is wearing her lucky purple panties. This jolting introduction is to irrevocably change both their lives. Because of an initial misunderstanding, Ainsley-Brooke remains disinterested and unaffected by Dorian's charms or by his money. She tramps through his well-ordered life like a green-broke, quarter horse filly, leaving them both to a dubious fate. The Wyoming myth remains alive and vigorous in this romance-genre satire.
How it began was remarkable, almost exactly like the romantic plot of a bodice-ripping Harlequin™, the same plot rehashed in fifty-seven languages of the industrialized world and even now making inroads into the literary fabric of nineteen Third-World countries, even though few of those women are allowed to learn to read, squatting as they must over their cooking fires while suckling infants, which is, fiction aside, the absolute and ultimate conclusion of romance. Perhaps they use those books for fuel.
It all began when Ainsley-Brooke Marker’s 157 pounds hurtled around a blindish corner of the new Falkner Building in the capitol of the Cowboy StateTM, Cheyenne, Wyoming, situated on the extreme southern border of the state where Wyoming’s lawmakers assiduously nurture their inaccessibility to all Wyoming citizenry and thereby remain a law unto themselves. Ainsley-Brooke could have collided into the arms of Dorian Elliot Falkner III had he had his arms outstretched and not swinging at his sides where arms are generally located; therefore, they merely bumped into each other instead.
“Why the hell don’t you watch where you’re going? Look what you’ve done to my hair!”
Dorian Elliott Falkner III looked. He looked and he looked and he looked as brilliant marmalade tresses cascaded in slow motion curl-by-curl from a high-fashion knot at the back of a perfectly sculpted head, and he looked until all those waves tumbled almost to Ainsley-Brooke’s almost hourglass waist, hairpins spewing. This took 3.7 seconds. In his entire thirty-seven years, Dorian had never seen such fascinating hair on a real woman, and for an awed moment, Dorian, because he was unable to remove his eyes from it, remained rooted and powerless to move forward, backward, or aside.
Floods of enchantment surprised Dorian. He had believed for sometime now that his lifetime quota of enchantment had been exhausted, used up, vanquished forever, having concluded somewhat ceremoniously just that past year at the last climax of his last relationship when Maddie McGregor, who had been six years older than he and should therefore have known better, presented to him an unpleasant STD, which had required diligent supervision from a discreet Fort Collins, Colorado, physician. Had he and Maddie married as Dorian had assumed they would (his mother had encouraged the match because she wanted Dorian to be happy), they would have had a blended family of four children, three of them Maddie’s teenagers and one of them his young son, Dorian IV, who was nine, and a span of exhibition mules that Maddie trained as performance mules. The mules, minus the teenagers, were hauled via a sumptuous, air-conditioned horse trailer to various competitions around the country, culminating with participation in the Rose Bowl parade in Pasadena, the annual highlight of Maddie’s equestrian year.
Since that disappointment, which understandably had infected Dorian with not only a sudden awareness but also an abrupt alarm for his vulnerability, he had reformed and now lived a life of relative celibacy. Therefore, he was perhaps overly vulnerable and susceptible when Ainsley-Brooke’s tresses exploded into his life like a firecracker.
Dorian couldn’t prevent himself from blurting out the obvious question, the answer to which he waited somewhat expectantly. To hear the wrong answer now would disenchant him forever absolutely for certain and no woman would ever be able to enchant him ever again for as long as he lived.
Book Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
No. of Pages: 224
Paper Weight (lb): 9.6
If you like this book, you may also enjoy: