Redeeming Rafe

Release date: July 20, 2015
Redeeming RafeTo the world, professional rodeo cowboy Rafe Beauford is the fearless rider with an easy smile who never backs down from a challenge. But when a buckle bunny he knew back in Odessa dies in a motorcycle accident, and Rafe learns he’s the father of twin baby girls, he finally gets a taste of real fear.

There’s not much call for a Shakespeare scholar in Beauford, Tennessee, so widowed single mother Abigail Whitman is coming up short on earning options. Then blond, sexy Rafe rides into town needing a nanny. He’s willing to pay generously—not to mention Abby and her son can live at the family plantation, Beauford Bend. Abby agrees to take the job, on the condition that he stays home for a month to bond with his daughters.

There aren’t any bulls at Beauford Bend to distract Rafe, but there is Abby with her classy ways and heart-stealing eyes. When she manages to cut through his defenses to his vulnerable heart, Rafe’s new biggest fear is that he’ll fall hard and end up hurt all over again.

BUY NOWWhat’s a cowboy to do?

by Alicia Hunter Pace

Sensuality Level: Sensual

Author Bio:
USA Today best-seller Alicia Hunter Pace is a writing team, Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones, who live in North Alabama where they share a love of football and old houses while having a lot of fun writing romances together. Find Alicia Hunter Pace at, on Facebook, and on Twitter @AliciaHPace.


An excerpt from Redeeming Rafe:

It had been a long time since Rafe had woken without knowing where he was, though he thought he might be outside because of the cool draft on his face. His shoulder hurt, and there was a crick in his neck, but he’d seen worse. He might be about to see worse, which was why he was afraid to open his eyes.

Then he remembered. Unless he was hallucinating, he was at Beauford Bend with a truckload of toddlers. Hallucinating would be too good to be true, but just in case, he opened one eye and looked over his shoulder.

Nope. Still there.

“Raphael.” Ah, he knew that voice. The whole world knew that voice—had paid a fortune to hear it.

Rafe turned his head to look out the open passenger door into the eyes of his brother Jackson.

And Jackson wasn’t alone. Oh, no. Emory stood next to him, along with Gwen, Dirk, and Jackson’s right-hand man, Sammy Anderson. They all looked equally shocked.

Standing a little apart from them was Abby Whitman. He took a second to enjoy the view. After what he’d been through, he deserved it. He had danced with Abby a few times at Jackson’s wedding last spring, and he’d liked how she’d moved in his arms. She was slim and almost tall, but not quite, depending on your definition of tall. Her head fit right against his shoulder when they danced, so he figured that would make her about 5’8”. She’d sit a horse well, but it would have to be English style, what with her cool blond coloring and that classy way she had about her.

But right now, the most amazing thing about her was she had a kid sitting on her hip and he was clean and not screaming. How did someone make that happen?

“Rafe! What—” Jackson began.

Rafe got out of the truck lightning fast.

“Shut up, Jackson!” he said in a breathy whisper and looked around at everyone else. “Nobody talk. You’ll wake them up, and there’s not a bull on the circuit that’s a bigger slice of hell than them awake.”

Around him, eyes narrowed, heads shook, and Jackson opened his mouth again.

Rafe put up his hand and projected with every muscle in his face if you speak another word and wake those kids up, I’ll beat the living shit out of you.

Just then a figure emerged from the carriage house and hotfooted it toward the rest of the group. Oh, great. Exactly what he needed—his twin’s fiancée, Neyland.

“What’s going on here?” she asked. “Rafe, where did you come from?”

“That’s what we’d all like to know,” Jackson said.

“Quiet,” Gwen said. “Rafe is about to go on a killing spree if we wake those kids up.”

“What kids … oh.” Neyland now looked as shocked as the rest of them.

“Let’s step over here and get some answers.” Dirk, head of Jackson’s security detail, had recovered and herded them the short distance to the porch that ran the length of the family wing.

“I need to go to work.” Abby wrinkled her brow and looked from Gwen to her child and back.

“Right,” Gwen said. “Give Phillip to Sammy. Sammy, will you take him down to the house and stay until I get back?” She unclipped what looked like a walkie-talkie from her belt and gave it to Sammy. “Take the baby monitor. I have a feeling this is a conversation I don’t want Julie and Carter to hear should they wake up.”

Once Abby and Sammy had made their exit, Jackson stepped forward and spread his hands. “All right. Where did you get those kids?”

“Denton, Texas. They screamed all the way here, and let me tell you, that was no fun. Then, as I got past the guardhouse, they fell asleep. I was afraid of waking them, so I just went to sleep, too.”

“Don’t you think you ought to take them back to Texas?” Jackson asked.

“I would if I could. I tried to leave them there in the first place.”

“So you didn’t kidnap them?”

“Kidnap them? Do you think I’ve lost my mind?”

“Candidly? Yes. Yes, I do think that. And I am thinking it more every second.”

“Enough.” Emory walked back toward the truck. “They’re going to wake up eventually, and I intend to get a look at them.”

Rafe was hot on her heels. “Don’t do it, Emory. You’ll be sorry!”

But she kept walking until she got to the truck and threw open the back door.

Everyone gathered around and peered inside. Miraculously, they kept on sleeping.

Jackson leaned in for a better look and his face went completely white. Finally, he spoke.

“Well, this much is clear: they’re yours.”

Rafe nodded. “Afraid so.”

Jackson met his eyes, and they shared a moment of agony. “They look exactly like her.”

And they did—exactly like Camille, their baby sister who had died in the fire.