Best Cowboy Books Novels & Stories

They had no great finesse, but they were dogged, and would eventually get the creature down. This willingness to work on the ground was indispensable, for most cowboys would rather eat poison than be forced to dismount. They all fancied themselves ropers, and swelled like toads if asked to do work they considered beneath their dignity. Since there were few goats to steal near the camp, Bol’s menus relied heavily on beef, with the usual admixture of beans. He had brought along a sack of chilies, and he dumped them liberally into his beans, feeling free to augment the dish with

He'd shut them down with a glare and returned to the ranch house which was quiet as a tomb. He hadn't intended to drink what was left in the half-full bottle of Jim Beam. Or had it been half-empty? That was a damn stupid argument, if you asked him. Any way you sliced it, he'd drained that bottle dry, all the while replaying the last week in his mind. What in the hell had possessed him to imagine that a city lawyer could come out to west butt-crack Idaho and fall in love with a cowboy like himself? Or better yet, that he could fall in love with her?

But it wasn’t the horse that caused her pulse to race into overdrive. It was the sight of the cowboy beside the steed. In this neck of the woods, if his Stetson wasn’t enough to give him away as one of the Grey Wolf cowboys, the earthy scent that drifted on the winter breeze was. She recognized him instantly as one of her kind. He smelled of pine, dark spices, and clove, a warm and welcome scent that was far too pleasant for her liking. But if he was a guard, he hadn’t served on her cellblock. She would have remembered, because whoever he was, he smelled divine.

“Bad enough that if these get out, your wife will see exactly what her daughter looks like when she comes. Bad enough that the charity board will have a field day. You need to wire the rest today or this explodes.” Marcus cursed under his breath. Reynolds heard movement, like the man was pacing. “I already sent half. Tell them the rest is coming. Buy me time.” Reynolds leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked under his weight. “Time for what? You’ve been saying that for weeks. This thing with the girl… it’s making you sloppy. Kane knows it. He’s using her as leverage now.” “Do not talk about her,” Marcus snapped. Reynolds almost laughed. Almost. “I’ve seen the files, boss. Project Cowgi

Reviewed by Pikasho Deka for Readers’ Favorite Coming Home by AM Sams follows the story of two neighboring families in Wyoming whose lives become intertwined under extraordinary circumstances. Cortland is one of the four Carter brothers overseeing the large Carter family ranch. He is determined to get back his family's mineral and water rights that his grandfather lost in a poker game to his neighbor, Mr. Mowery. Meanwhile, Mowery's granddaughter, Austin, is back in Wyoming, eager to rectify her family's mistakes and return the water rights of the original owners. When Cortland meets Austin, both feel an intense mutual attraction that develops into a full-blown love affair. But Cortland's tr

“Men like me often find the darkness more restful than sleep, Princess.” His words chilled her, reminding her that she’d far from seen the darkest side of this cowboy. Of course a wolf like him would know terrible horrors, things that would likely keep her awake for an eternity. His reputation wasn’t built on sunshine and rainbows. A heavy tension settled between them as they lingered there together, among the books and the dark wood and the soothing scent of dust jackets perfuming the shelves. She gestured to the book he’d propped on the table. “What are you reading?” He lifted the thin volume and held it up for her to see. “The Tempest,” she said.

Neither option comforted me, but being the White Wolf wasn't about comfort. I would have to speak with Axton first to hear what he has to say about it. His perspective had a way of grounding me, even when I didn't want to admit it. Once I got home, I grabbed the books Axton had brought me and carefully went through them one after another. The pages were old and smelled faintly like dust and pine, probably a result of being kept in the library for decades. I read slowly at first, scanning for anything that caught my attention, then faster when the information became repetitive.