Lookin' Good: Lone Star Honky-Tonk, #1

By Roz Lee

It's Friday night, and hardworking cowboys and ranchers from all around Fort Worth come to The Lone Star for a cold brew and someone warm to dance with. Lucky for them, one table is always reserved for Bailey Rose and her friends, who come there to unwind and maybe to get wound up by a good-looking guy with a big smile and a bigger rodeo buckle.

I wish I had never told Travis my deepest, darkest secret—that I like to watch. I should have known he would want to give me my heart's desire. I love him more than anything, but I hate him for using my weakness to try to win me back. Moreover, I hate myself for not being able to turn down the gifts he brings me. Bailey Rose

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roz Lee
• Release date: Aug 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9780998570631

Roz Lee

USA Today Best-Selling author Roz Lee is the author of thirty romances. The first, The Lust Boat, was born of an idea acquired while on a Caribbean cruise with her family and soon blossomed into a five-book series published by Red Sage. Following her love of baseball, she turned her attention to sexy athletes in tight pants, writing the critically acclaimed Mustangs Baseball series.Roz has been married to her best friend, and high school sweetheart, for nearly four decades. Roz and her husband have two grown daughters and are the proud grandparents of three adorable grandkids.Even though Roz has lived on both coasts, her heart lies in between, in Texas. A Texan by birth, she can trace her family back to the Republic of Texas. With roots that deep, she says, “You can’t ever really leave.”When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. No trip is too small, no tourist trap too cheesy, and no road unworthy of travel.Visit Roz’s website – www.RozLee.net

Book preview

I Hate Him

Let me be frank. I love my girlfriends, and I live for these casual meet-ups at The Lone Star. The world-famous honky-tonk is the place to see and be seen in Ft. Worth. I would never tell my friends the real reason I come here—let them think it’s to see them. But if every one of them decided never to set foot in this place again, I’d still come.

Everyone talks at once, which is the norm. Our numbers vary from six to twelve, depending on work schedules, dates, and the weather. We sit around, consume copious amounts of alcohol, and catch up on everything from work-related issues to celebrity gossip. The more drinks, the looser the tongues. I owe my knowledge of many things to tequila shots and margaritas. Some things you can’t un-hear, you know?

Men passing through our lives are discussed in detail except for two. April won’t dish on her fiancé, and we long since quit expecting her to, and I refuse to talk about Travis. Some things are private. Right?

That’s the way I see it, anyway.

There aren’t enough tequila shots in the world to make me tell them what happened between me and Travis. Sometimes, I still can’t believe what he did or continues to do for me. I love the man, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, but I can’t bring myself to commit to a lifetime with him.

He doesn’t come to The Lone Star every week, but our favorite band, Barbed Wire, is playing tonight, so natch, he’s here. I’ve never seen his date before. Where did he find this one? She doesn’t look like she belongs this far west—too polished, like a Dallas sorority girl. Yeah, I recognize the style. Perfect blonde curls hanging down her back, lips artificially plumped and painted a shade of red best left on barns. Her clothes scream high-dollar country chic. No self-respecting cowgirl would be caught dead wearing a silk blouse with curtain-fringe trim.

I, on the other hand, am a self-respecting cowgirl. I’m wearing my usual night-on-the-town outfit—a black tank top with an outline of the state of Texas on the front in pink rhinestones over a denim miniskirt, leaving my legs bare down to mid-calf where my favorite boots take over. The custom-made, black ostrich hide, with inlayed yellow roses along a hand-stitched vine, complete with thorns, cost me a fortune. But they’re my signature. I only take them off to work and to fuck, and sometimes not even then. Just ask Travis.

No, wait. Don’t. He’s got the tramp eating out of his hand—literally. Gag.

He’s doing it for me. He has no interest in the woman. He’s never interested in any of them. They’re all for me. I both love and hate him for it. Once, I thought it would be wonderful to have a man know everything about me and still love me, but now that I do, the reality is enough to destroy me. And it does, over and over again, every time he brings another one to The Lone Star. I want the gifts to stop, but they never will. Which is why I can’t be with him. He’ll never