Category Archives: Excerpts

Thorpe’s Mail-Order Bride

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Last year I was privileged to be asked to write a book for Debra Holland’s Kindle World. Her world includes Sweetwater Springs and Morgan’s Crossing, both in Montana. My story for this world is Thorpe’s Mail-Order Bride. The following is an excerpt from that book.

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Lena DuBois never knew her father until he suddenly reappeared in her life to tell her he’s arranged for her to marry one of his business partners. Lena flees, deciding to become a mail-order bride, where at least she’s the one doing the choosing. Her future husband, John Thorpe, has requested a woman of good moral character which Lena considers herself to be. The problem is her mother is the most celebrated madam in all New Orleans. What will happen if he discovers her secret?

EXCERPT:

Lena looked at her reflection in the small mirror over the wash stand. Patting her hair into place, she turned and gazed around the room. The furnishings were austere in the extreme. With the bit of furniture present the space was all but used. In addition to the washstand was a simple four-poster with a patchwork quilt and a bureau. Pegs fastened to the wall held various items of clothing.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Norton returned with a copper kettle, the handle of which was wrapped with a towel. She poured hot water into the basin and cooler water from the chipped rose-patterned pitcher from the bureau.

“The towels next to the ewer are clean. When you’ve finished washing, come meet your groom. I sent him next door to get my husband. We’ll get you two married shortly.”

“Married? I know we are supposed to marry right away but thought we might get to know each other for a few hours.”

“That won’t be possible. He has to return to his business in Morgan’s Crossing right away. Unless, of course, accompany him now and marry in a couple of weeks.” Mrs. Norton frowned. “But I don’t think you’d want to take that action. Your reputation, which you so diligently defended little more than an hour ago, would be ruined.”

Lena swallowed hard. A marriage and changing her name was the best way to stay hidden. “Well then,” She jutted her chin. “Let’s get this wedding started.”

She followed Mrs. Norton back to the parlor.

Dominating the room was the largest man Lena had ever seen. He was easily a foot taller than she was and very wide, though he did not appear to be fat. He wore a black suit, the same one as in the photograph he’d sent. His face was covered with a thick, well-trimmed beard and mustache, though his coal black hair was a little on the long side, as it curled over his collar, but his deep blue eyes caught her attention. They were not only a beautiful dark blue, but she saw kindness in them as well.

The man moved forward to greet her, and Lena was surprised at how graceful he was.

He extended his hand. “I’m John Thorpe.”

She grasped his hand, calloused from hard work. “Lena DuBois. Pleased to meet you.”

“And I you. I’m sorry I was late. The snow delayed me.”

Lena nodded. “Mrs. Norton said as much.”

“Would you like to get married now, Lena?”

“I’m ready. I understand you have to get back to your work.”

John worried the brim of his hat. “Yes, I do. I’m the only blacksmith in town and folks do depend on me. But we can sit and talk for a while before the ceremony if that would make you more comfortable.”

She shook her head. He was so sweet to make such an offer. “No, please, that’s fine. I’m ready to get married if you are. I didn’t come all this way to back out now.”

He smiled. “I’m very glad, Lena. Very glad indeed.”

“Sit down children.” Mrs. Norton pointed at the sofa.

Lena sat on one end and smoothed her skirts.

John sat on the other end. He held his hat in his hands between his knees.

“You are getting quite the feisty woman for your bride, John. I witnessed her defend her honor a short while ago when she was accosted by a drunk from the saloon.” Mrs. Norton then related everything she’d seen.

John grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Good for you Miss DuBois.”

Lena’s cheeks heated, and she dipped her head. “I was simply doing what any self-respecting young woman would have done.”

“No, that’s not true,” said John. “You saved yourself and didn’t wait to be saved by someone else. Not a lot of women would have beaten off their attacker with an umbrella.”

“That reminds me, John,” said Mrs. Norton. “You must buy her a new umbrella. She broke hers over that drunks head.”

Reverend Norton entered the living room.

“Ah, I see everyone is here. Are you two ready to get married?”

Lena and John looked at each other.

“Well?” asked John.

“I’m ready if you are,” responded Lena.

John stood and walked to the reverend.

The men shook hands.

“We are ready, Reverend.”

Mrs. Norton and Lena both stood as well.

“I think we can do the ceremony right here. Lena, you and John stand behind the sofa and the Reverend will stand in front of it. I’ll be over here just behind Lena.”

The couple did as Mrs. Norton instructed.

The reverend took out a small notebook and a pencil from his pocket. “Before we start, I need to know your full names.”

“Helena Marguerite DuBois.”

“John Wilfred Thorpe.”

“Wilfred?” Lena giggled.

John smiled and blushed. “It was my grandfather’s name.”

Lena nodded. “Marguerite was my grandmother’s name. It would appear we have the same traditions, at least as far as naming children.”

The reverend opened the good book and began the ceremony.

“Please join hands. Dearly beloved we are gathered here…”

Soon Lena’s turn to take her vows arrived.

“Do you Helena Marguerite DuBois, take John Wilfred Thorpe, to be thy wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto pledge to forsake all others?”

Excitement ran through her like a lightning bolt. “I do.” She put the ring she’d bought in Denver on John’s finger. The circle of gold went up to the second knuckle and stopped. Eyes wide, she looked up at him. “Oh, my.” Quickly she took the ring off his third finger and slid it on his little finger. It fit. “That will have to do until we can get is sized correctly.”

The reverend repeated the vows for John who answered “I do.” He put on the plain gold band he had for her and it was too big.

She took it off and put it on her middle finger which fit the ring perfectly. “That will do, don’t you think?” asked Lena with a smile.

John grinned. “I believe it will.”

Reverend Norton smiled. “You may now kiss your bride.”

John’s grin disappeared and he studied her face. He bent until his face was next to hers and then touched his lips to hers in a sweet, gentle kiss.

Her first kiss.

When he pulled back he winked.

Amazon Buy Link:  http://amzn.com/B01BL0HKL4

CW_04BIO

Cynthia Woolf is the award winning and best-selling author of nineteen historical western romance books and two short stories with more books on the way. She was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side with her friends.
Their closest neighbor was about one quarter of a mile away, so her little brother was her playmate and her best friend. That fierce friendship lasted until his death in 2006.
Cynthia loves writing and reading romance. Her first western romance Tame A Wild Heart, was inspired by the story her mother told her of meeting Cynthia’s father on a ranch in Creede, Colorado. Although Tame A Wild Heart takes place in Creede that is the only similarity between the stories. Her father was a cowboy not a bounty hunter and her mother was a nursemaid (called a nanny now) not the ranch owner.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she’s made at CRW for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.

TITLES AVAILABLE

GENEVIEVE: Bride of Nevada, American Mail-Order Brides Series

THE HUNTER BRIDE – Hope’s Crossing, Book 1

GIDEON – The Surprise Brides

MAIL ORDER OUTLAW – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 1

MAIL ORDER DOCTOR – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 2

MAIL ORDER BARON – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 3

NELLIE – The Brides of San Francisco 1

ANNIE – The Brides of San Francisco 2

CORA – The Brides of San Francisco 3

JAKE (Book 1, Destiny in Deadwood series)

LIAM (Book 2, Destiny in Deadwood series)

ZACH (Book 3, Destiny in Deadwood series)

CAPITAL BRIDE (Book 1, Matchmaker & Co. series)

HEIRESS BRIDE (Book 2, Matchmaker & Co. series)

FIERY BRIDE (Book 3, Matchmaker & Co. series)

TAME A WILD HEART (Book 1, Tame series)

TAME A WILD WIND (Book 2, Tame series)

TAME A WILD BRIDE (Book 3, Tame series)

TAME A SUMMER HEART (short story, Tame series)

TAME A HONEYMOON HEART (novella, Tame series)

 

 

WEBSITE – www.cynthiawoolf.com

 

NEWSLETTER – http://bit.ly/1qBWhFQ

Loving Matilda by E. Ayers

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EA LMHi, Cynthia, I always love to visit your blog. Today I’m here with my newest western, Loving Matilda. I had so much fun writing this and working with you to incorporate your heroine, Lena, into it. That was fantastic. Here’s a little of what happened behind the scenes for your readers.

I saw Cynthia’s cover and knew instantly that Matilda “Matt” Berwyn would connect with Lena. Here’s why. Matt was really a girl living as a boy in a mining town. Her father cut her hair off and had her dress in boys clothing to protect her in an all male environment. Then Prudence came with her pretty dresses, and married Michael Morgan who owned the mine. When Lena came, she was more approachable. Unfortunately Lena didn’t know the redheaded boy was really a young woman who was not much younger. But Matt took one look at Lena and she was everything that Matt wasn’t.

John Thorpe was an average guy – well not quite. He was better off than the miners, but not as wealthy as Mr. Morgan. Lena was pretty and had a dainty way about her. Her hair ribbons matched her dresses and she always looked beautiful to Matt. Lena represented everything that Matt wanted.

Everyone took Matt for granted. “He” was just a kid in the town, but “he” was liked. “He” was clean and well mannered, plus “he” loved to read. At one point, Matt figured that Lena might have guessed that Matt was actually a female.

How Cynthia and I pulled off this mixing of the stories took just a little time. First we both know how the other writes. And who doesn’t love Cynthia’s stories? Cynthia knows me and knows my stories. She told me a little about Lena and we just exchanged a few passages. It was so much fun! Cynthia’s story stops and mine continues, with a wee bit more about Lena. But I’m not going to give away the stories and tell you why.

The truly amazing thing is that Cynthia and I write with totally different voices. And our stories are almost 180 degrees from each other. Cynthia writes a romance in a western setting. I write a western with a romance in it. Blending characters into my story was a challenge, as I mixed several characters from the other authors into my story. I found it interesting to see how some of the other authors used Matt in their stories.

We all know if you put nine people in a room that some of those people will be good friends and others are acquaintances. Our feelings towards one another will all be different. That came through as various authors added a line or two about Matt as they wrote their stories.

Everyone saw Matt in a different light and “his” reaction to those characters in Morgan’s Crossing is different. Of course, we all used Debra Holland’s characters as we created our stories. In fact, to keep all us from making silly mistakes, Louella Nelson worked with Debra Holland to create a primitive but serviceable map we could use. Her not-to-scale map inspired me to have my hero handed a hand-drawn map to find his way to Morgan’s Crossing, and its inaccuracy made my hero’s trip a little more complicated. He made the correction to the map he was given.

That’s how many maps were back then. The government had maps and the railroads had maps, but most of those traveling didn’t. If they did, chances are it was hand-drawn. That’s something we almost can’t fathom today with our GPS systems to get us across town. Can you imagine driving down the road looking for the third tall beech with the slash mark, and turning northeast when you do? Probably a third of those reading have no clue what a beech is, and another third couldn’t point to the northeast. I’m going to assume that back then if they didn’t know, they soon learned.

I used to swear I’d never write historical novels because of all the work and research involved. Yet, here I am eating my words and having fun as I delve through time. This book forced me to back up ten years from my two other historical books, A Rancher’s Woman and A Rancher’s Dream. And I had new things to learn, such as mining operations.

All that mining stuff isn’t in my book, just the little town. But once I had that knowledge, it colored what I wrote. Who were the people who became miners, and what was the difference in skilled jobs from the non-skilled jobs? Who would be the support personal who would attracted to a small town? I looked at other real mining towns, and studied photos.

Two things have stayed with me during my research. A mining town was not the cleanest place to live. Today with all our clean air laws and so forth, the dust that they dealt with shouldn’t exist. The stamp mill that crushed rock, to separate the gold from the stone, would constantly be tossing dirt into the air. The stamp itself uses water, which would put out some very “dirty” silt water, so where is the airborne dust coming from? From the rocks before they go into the stamp and from the crushed rock that’s been through the stamp. I could imagine that dust settling on streets, windowsills, and porches. Considering nothing was very airtight when it came to houses, I’m sure it created a layer of dust on everything inside the house, too. Certainly homes would require a daily dusting.

The tent “towns” are historically correct throughout the west. The tents, made from heavy canvas, are called white wall tents and were used year round in many mining towns. Yet it’s not unusual for places in Montana to have -25 degrees Fahrenheit (-32C) in the winter. Yikes! In a tent? They didn’t have today’s super thermal sleeping bags from LL Bean. Yes, they had Franklin stoves in them to help keep them warm. Certainly not something I would want to attempt! Those miners were tough people.

I have to admire the characters in Debra Holland’s books. Like their real counterparts, they were strong, hearty people. She has some of the miners living in those tents during the summer months. And she placed the mine entrance on the far side of the mountain to keep down the dust, noise, etc. But looking backwards through time, life was hard for everyone in those days.

Matilda “Matt” Berwyn’s dad was a miner. That’s all he’d ever been. It’s what he knew. He’d follow that stamp mill wherever it might go.

And for fun, I dragged in Germantown. Pennsylvania. I grew up not far from there, and my family is from that rural area. My great grandmother would have been about Matilda’s age. I knew those farms, the countryside, and seeing City Hall when it was still visible and not blocked by taller buildings. (I’m not old enough to have seen sailing ships on the Delaware River, but my father did as a little boy.) Germantown was so close to me that it was a bit of a trip down memory lane.

Come visit Morgan’s Crossing and look at it through the eyes of a young woman who has spent her entire life in a mining town someplace. I enjoy taking my readers on a journey back in time and letting them peek at the real life those people lived. But I love wrapping it in a romance.

Loving Matilda

E. Ayers

http://amzn.to/241E1cR

Matilda “Matt” Berwyn, forced to live disguised as a boy in a mining town, longs to escape and blossom into the female she’s always wanted to be. But her desire to leave Morgan’s Crossing escalates when she realizes she’s being stalked.

Stockyard hand Zeke Hillerman knows her secret and has fallen in love with her. He helps her flee to his parents’ home in the east to learn to be a lady, while he struggles to start his own ranch. As Matilda grapples with Victorian expectations of young women, Zeke’s plans for their future unravel, and he realizes that the cost of her ticket out of Morgan’s Crossing may have been his own heart.

Here’s a little excerpt that shows the daily life of Matilda. May I interest you in a bowl of oatmeal?

There wasn’t a single person in Morgan’s Crossing that Matilda didn’t know, and everyone was friendly towards her. So who would be following me, and why?

Her mind wandered to Marla and Rebecca Lee. Matilda had been warned by her father to stay away from the gals at the saloon, but they were both nice women. Then Lena caught her eye. Dressed in white with pink trim, and a fancy crocheted shawl, Matilda decided that of all the women in Morgan’s Crossing, she loved Lena’s clothes best of all. Lena didn’t walk to town this time. She walked to the livery where her husband worked. Taking him dinner?

Aside from a few women, there wasn’t a single man to be found stirring in town. Giving up, Matilda went home, but as she approached the soddy, she had that same feeling of being watched. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and the nape of her neck prickled. Instead of going into the soddy, she walked around the back of it where the stove was kept during the summer.

This morning she had fixed hot oat cereal for her brother and father. Oats always took forever to cook. She boiled the water and then added the oats. The minute she did, she saw a problem – weevils. She had added extra water when she realized the number of weevils that were in the oats, and then carefully spooned out the weevils that floated to the top as the cereal boiled. Certain she removed most of them, she added a bit of fatback to give the oats more flavor and let it boil down. Now she had a messy pan. Lifting the pan from the stove, she looked at the oat cereal that was stuck to the metal, and headed for the stream.

Instead of staying in a secluded area, she walked to the plank bridge near the tents and placed the pan into the cool water. It wasn’t much of a pan, but if she left it, someone would probably take it. She yanked her pants above her knees and waded into the water. She rubbed her arms and face with the water and wished she could have taken a cooling bath. With luck, Zeke would be coming in a few days, and she wanted to see him again.

EA 2015 SMBio:

As the official matchmaker for all the characters who wander through a mind full of imagination and the need to share, E. Ayers enjoys finding just the right ones to create a story.

Find E. Ayers here:

http://www.ayersbooks.com

http://ayersbooks.wordpress.com

http://AuthorsofMainStreet.wordpress.com

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/MtXen

Twitter: @ayersbooks

Two to Wrangle by Victoria Vane

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Two To Wrangle

Tell us about your current series.

Hotel Rodeo is a sassy, sexy, contemporary western romance series set under the neon lights of Las Vegas.  It’s funny, sexy and very fast-paced.


What is your favorite part of writing?  I love the creative process. I’m not a plotter so I never know where my stories are going to take me! 

What is your least favorite part of writing? I HATE DEADLINES! When I’m under a serious deadline I hardly eat or sleep, I live in my pajamas, and I won’t even mention housework!
 What is your next project and when will it be released?
The first three books of my HOTEL RODEO series are back-to-back releases. HELL ON HEELS came out in January, TWO TO WRANGLE is in February, BEAUTY AND THE BULL RIDER is in March. I’m also involved in a historical romance anthology called PASSIONATE PROMISES that releases February15. After that I have SADDLE UP, the fourth book in my Hot Cowboy Nights series.

 What is your typical day like?
A year ago this month I became a full time caretaker for my father in law who had a massive stroke. Ironically it happened only one month after I turned in HELL ON HEELS, a story in which the heroine’s father also has a massive stroke. Life truly does imitate art! Anyway, my life evolves around those need so I don’t get much writing done during the day. My creative muse is a night owl anyway. I typically stay up until about 2AM.

 What is your favorite dessert/food?

I love apple pie, crème brulee, fresh raspberries, and Ferrero Rocher chocolate.

 Tell us about your hero.  Give us one of his strengths and one of his weaknesses.

Ty and Monica are both flawed characters.  Ty is a divorced playboy who loves woman—but only in single serving sizes. He also has an alcohol problem that he’s mostly overcome.  He’s got a smart mouth and talks a lot of smack about his ex-wife, but deep down takes responsibility for the failed marriage. He has countless “friends” but doesn’t let anyone get too close, with the exception of Tom, who shares a dream that down-to-earth Monica can’t understand.

Tell us about your heroine.  Give us one of her strengths and one of her weaknesses. 

Monica carries a lot of baggage too. She is fiercely protective of Tom, the only person who’s ever cared about her, and doesn’t trust Ty. She arrives in Vegas with guns blazing.  When these two characters first come together in HELL ON HELLS, the combination is explosive.

What genres are you drawn to as a reader? I have always loved historicals the best. I never thought I would write contemporary romance but I have really fallen in love with my cowboy heroes- probably because they represent old fashioned tradition and values!

TWO TO WRANGLE (HOTEL RODEO #2) BY VICTORIA VANE

 A COUNTRY BOY…Maybe having a hot and heavy affair with the boss’s daughter wasn’t the smartest move. But Ty Morgan didn’t regret a moment with city girl Monica Brandt…until she left Las Vegas to return to her life in New York.  When devastating news sends her running back, Ty can’t help but open his arms.  His heart, however, is another matter.

AND A CITY GIRL…Now that Ty has what he’s always wanted—controlling interest in Hotel Rodeo—Monica is certain their time together is at an end—until Ty asks her to come on board as a partner.  Maybe it’s just her money he needs, but the chance to stick close to the sexy wrangler sure could make work a whole lot more interesting.

GET READY TO TANGO.. Their partnership doesn’t come without a heap of problems. The two can’t agree on anything—except their iron-hot attraction.  As the hotel’s grand opening approaches, the truth is all too clear: Ty and Monica must find a way to mix business with pleasure if they have any shot at dancing off into the sunset together…

TWO TO WRANGLE EXCERPT

 

“You’re welcome, Ty,” Monica replied tightly as they exited the hotel.

“I know you meant well, but that was emasculating as hell.”

“For you or for him?” she asked with a laugh. “You came out the clear winner.”

“That’s not the point. I didn’t want or need your interference, Monica,” he grumbled. “I can handle arrogant assholes like that. Been doing it my whole life.”

“So what did you expect me to do? Stand there and let him insult you? The way you two were eyeballing each other, I was beginning to think I might see some blood.”

“I doubt it would have come to that,” he said.

“So it was all just ridiculous male posturing?”

“Pretty much,” he confessed.

“He really does have more money and influence than you, Ty,” Monica said. “He made Forbes Top 100 mogul list just last year. There’s no way you could ever top him in anything related to business, but you are in fact much better endowed. That shut him right down, didn’t it?”

“Sure did. He may never get it up again.” He signaled the limo. “I miss my damned truck.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

TwoToWrangleTour copy“To the LINQ,” he answered and then murmured something to Frankie before handing her into the car. “I have to say Evan’s presence probably saved the evening.”

“Saved it? How?”

“We might not have even got out the door tonight if he hadn’t been there.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“That dress, Monica. All I can think of is peeling it off you—with my teeth.”

“Funny you should say that, I was having similar thoughts about you.”

“Oh yeah?” he rubbed his smooth shaven chin.

“Most definitely,” she purred. “I’ve always had a major thing about power suits. It’s one of the reasons I was so confused about my attraction to you. You don’t exactly dress to impress, Ty. I once tried to picture you in a suit like this, but I have to admit, my imagination didn’t even come close to doing you justice.”

He grinned. “I look that good, huh?”

“Oh yeah, cowboy. If I could move in this dress, I’d straddle you right now.”

“Don’t let that stand in your way, Sugar,” Ty said. “Dresses are real easy to work around.”

“But I thought you said we had some kind of schedule to keep?”

“We do, so I guess I’ll have to ask you to save that item for later. I think we can manage to work it into the agenda. I’ll prioritize it.”

Hotel Rodeo Half page2BLURB For TWO TO WRANGLE (HOTEL RODEO #2) BY VICTORIA VANE

 A COUNTRY BOY…Maybe having a hot and heavy affair with the boss’s daughter wasn’t the smartest move. But Ty Morgan didn’t regret a moment with city girl Monica Brandt…until she left Las Vegas to return to her life in New York.  When devastating news sends her running back, Ty can’t help but open his arms.  His heart, however, is another matter.

AND A CITY GIRL…Now that Ty has what he’s always wanted—controlling interest in Hotel Rodeo—Monica is certain their time together is at an end—until Ty asks her to come on board as a partner.  Maybe it’s just her money he needs, but the chance to stick close to the sexy wrangler sure could make work a whole lot more interesting.

GET READY TO TANGO.. Their partnership doesn’t come without a heap of problems. The two can’t agree on anything—except their iron-hot attraction.  As the hotel’s grand opening approaches, the truth is all too clear: Ty and Monica must find a way to mix business with pleasure if they have any shot at dancing off into the sunset together…

BUY LINKS:  Amazon, B&N, Google Play, Kobo 

ABOUT VICTORIA VANE

 2015-09-18_18.22.16RESIZEDVictoria Vane is a #1 bestselling award-winning author of smart and sexy romance. Her works range from comedic romps to emotionally compelling erotic romance and have received over twenty awards and nominations including: a 2015 Red Carpet Finalist for Best Contemporary romance (Slow Hand), 2014 RONE Winner for Best Historical Post Medieval Romance (Treacherous Temptations), and Library Journal Best Ebook Romance of 2012 (The Devil DeVere series). Victoria also writes romantic historical fiction as Emery Lee. She currently resides in Palm Coast, Florida with her husband, two sons, a little black dog, and an Arabian horse.

Contact info:

Email: victoria.vane@hotmail.com           Website: www.victoriavane.com

Blog: www.embracingromance.com         Facebook: http://on.fb.me/YVeXrf

Twitter: @authorvictoriav                       Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1vONQZh

Amazon: http://amzn.to/10QMKT5             Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1sccsM4

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Faith – Scandalous Suffragette Bride by Sylvia McDaniel

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Faith-1Here is an excerpt from FAITH – SCANDALOUS SUFFRAGETTE BRIDE by Sylvia McDaniel.

Faith Warren heard the clink of the jail cell doors and prepared herself for the storm about to erupt. Stepping into the waiting room, her father approached her, his face taut with barely concealed rage. He’d been angry with her before, but she knew there would be consequences for her actions today.

He took her by the arm. “Don’t say a word until we’re in the carriage.”

The door swung open and several reporters from the Boston Evening Traveler greeted them. “Miss Warren do you think your father’s bank treats women unfairly?”

“Miss Warren, why don’t you go to work in your father’s bank?”

“Mr. Warren, what do you think of your daughter’s involvement in the suffragette movement?”

Her father gripped her elbow almost dragging her to the waiting carriage. He didn’t say a word and she knew from his rigid body, he was the angriest she’d ever seen him. When they reached the buggy he opened the door and she crawled in, followed closely by her father.

The driver clicked to the horses and away they went, with the reporters laughing.

She sighed. She knew better than to say anything. Long ago, she’d learned that nothing embarrassing or revealing was discussed when a servant was nearby. She glanced out the window at the passing homes, knowing her activities with the ladies would be curtailed. Eight long months and then she could walk out of her family home and hopefully into the school she hoped to create for young girls.

The carriage turned and came to a halt in the prosperous neighborhood on Beacon Street. She could see reporters milling around the front of the house close to the street. The door opened and her father waited holding out his hand. She had no choice, though she wanted nothing more than to escape to her room and avoid the confrontation she knew awaited her.

The reporters were making a mad dash across the street. “Miss Warren, Miss Warren.”

Taking her elbow her father pulled her towards the steps leading into the house. Reluctantly she followed, feeling like she was walking to the gallows. Their maid opened the door. “Good evening, Mr. Warren, Miss Warren.”

“Good evening, Bertha,” her father said.

Faith nodded, but kept her lips closed, knowing what was expected of her.

Not releasing her elbow, he took her straight into his office and closed the door.

“Sit,” he commanded.

She took a seat in the chair across from him as he went behind his desk. The tick tock of the clock could be heard, but nothing else as they sat staring at one another.

“If your mother were alive, she’d be quite disappointed in you.”

Faith knew better than to argue, and she didn’t believe his statement. Her mother had been the one who encouraged her not to define her life by marriage, but rather to learn and grow. And she had in honor of her mother and then slowly for herself. But she knew better than to argue. It didn’t really matter what she said because her father didn’t listen.

“While I’m glad it wasn’t my bank you marched against, but still it’s my competitor.”

Next weekend they were slated to march against her father’s bank. And she’d known there was no way she could be seen protesting with the women, so she’d gone this weekend. But she wasn’t about to tell her father his bank was on the schedule.

“Attending college was the worst thing I’ve agreed to. Since you graduated, you’ve become involved in this women’s movement. You’ve embarrassed the family, my business, and we have reporters in front of our home. I should have married you off years ago.”

He sighed and gazed at her. “In your own best interests, I’m sending you out of town for a while until this scandal dies down.”

“No,” she cried knowing she wasn’t supposed to speak, but unable to stop the word from coming out of her mouth.

He frowned at her. “Silence.”

She couldn’t be sent away from Boston. She was working with the ladies to find a location for her to start a boarding school to teach young women. They were to look at property next week, and when she received her trust fund in February, she would have the school ready by next fall. There was much to prepare if she wanted to start on time.

“Your aunt told me that Cal Anderson is searching for a teacher for his granddaughter, Lilly Anderson. You know the little girl your cousin had with the rancher from Montana.”

Cousin Beth was the girl who should have been her father’s child. She was the one who enjoyed parties and shopping and dancing the night away. She was the one who flirted with every available man and had gotten caught in more than one compromising position. Until she’d eloped with the rancher from Montana shocking them all. A rancher hadn’t seemed the right fit for her.

“I have your train ticket to Sweetwater Springs, Montana. You’re leaving with your aunt Edwina in the morning.”

AMAZON buy link:  http://amzn.com/B01BL0HL40

About Sylvia McDaniel

Sylvia Use This oneSylvia McDaniel is a best-selling, award-winning author of western historical romance and contemporary romance novels.  Known for her sweet, funny, family-oriented romances,  Sylvia is the author of The Burnett Brides, Lipstick and Lead Series, Scandalous Suffragette Brides, The Cuvier Widows, and several short contemporary romances.

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You can write to Sylvia at P.O. Box 2542, Coppell, TX 75019 or visit her website.

Slater’s Bride by Patricia Thayer

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SlatersBrideChapter three

For nearly three hours, Letty had been holding onto the side of the bench for dear life.  She had never ridden in a buckboard, but quickly realized the wagon had been named appropriately.

The icy winds bit her cheeks, and although the blankets helped ward off most of the cold, she wasn’t going to complain about the bumpy road or the speed.  The faster they got to their destination, the better.

“Whoa!  Whoa!” Paul called to the team.

The horses obeyed and stopped at the side of the dirt road.

“I thought we needed to take a break.”

“Thank you.  I could use a few minutes,” she told him as he went around to her side and helped her down from the wagon.

“Walk around. If you need some privacy…don’t wander off too far.”

She nodded and made her way across the frozen earth, careful of the ruts in the road.  Getting used to her new boots was easier than she thought.  They definitely kept her feet toasty.

Montana was cold, but so was Chicago, with the freezing winds blowing off the lake.  Of course, she never went out in a storm nor rode in an open carriage.

Oh, my, she sounded spoiled.  Not really.  She had been employed at the Catholic school.  Her wages were diminutive since she also received a room with her meals.  The small amount helped her pay for her college classes.

She walked through the grove of large pine trees and found a somewhat private spot.  Although it was more difficult with trousers, she managed to get her drawers down.  She couldn’t help but giggle a little.  If the nuns could see her now.

After taking care of her business, she returned to the wagon to find Paul giving the horses some water. She pulled her wool tweed coat together against the cold, wishing they were already in Morgan’s Crossing.  She climbed back up into her seat herself and covered her lower body with a blanket.  “Do you need me to help with anything?”

“No, I can handle it.”  Paul placed the water bucket in the wagon, took something out of the bag, then swiftly returned to the driver’s seat.  His shoulder brushed against hers as he settled in beside her.

She found she liked having a man close.  Or maybe it was this one particular rancher.

“Here,” he said and held out an egg sandwich.  “It’s all I have until we get to the cabin.”

“Thank you.”  Normally, she’d be a lot pickier about her food, but hunger won out.  She bit into the cold bread and decided the sandwich was delicious, warm or cold.  “This is pretty good.”

“Yes, it is, but not as tasty as S Bar D beef.”

“So, the ranch is named after both of you?”

Paul nodded.  “I didn’t know it at the time, but I now know that the D stands for Drennan.”

She started to comment about her brother’s business endeavor when she felt something on her face.  Looking up, she caught the swirl of snow flurries.  She didn’t need to tell Paul.

“Let’s go.”  He picked up the reins with his gloved hands, released the wagon brake and started the horses moving.  With another flick of his wrist and a shout from Paul, the animals picked up the pace.

“Are you going to make it to the cabin?” Letty asked

Paul never took his eyes off the road.  “Like I said, we don’t have a choice.  So we move a little faster.”

“How long before we’re there?”

“About four hours.  I suggest you pull that blanket up around you and stay warm.”

“Is that your way of saying I talk too much?”

“No, it’s my way of saying there’s nothing we can do about this situation but to keep going.”

“Then we should go faster.”  Letty wrapped the colorful print blanket around her body, trying to absorb the heat.  She glanced at Paul.  He seemed plenty warm enough in his big sheepskin coat with the collar pulled up and a scarf covering his neck.

Then he moved the wool to cover the bottom half of his face.

He glanced at her with those startling blue eyes, and a strange feeling came over her.

He leaned toward her, “I bet you’re wishing you never left Chicago until later in the spring.”

“I didn’t have a choice but to come now.”  She wondered if it was too late already.

AMAZON buy link:  http://amzn.com/B01BL0HKIC

MelissaStewardson-2ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Patricia Thayer was born and raised in Muncie, Indiana, the second in a family of eight children.  She attended Ball State University, before heading west, where she has called Southern California, home for many years.   There she’s been a member of the Orange County Chapter of RWA.  It’s a sisterhood like no other.

Patricia has written over fifty books.  She’s also had the honor of being nominated for both the National Reader’s Choice Award and the prestigious RITA award, and seeing her book ‘Nothing Short of a Miracle’ win a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice award.

When not working on a story, she might be found traveling the United States and Europe, taking in the scenery and doing story research while thoroughly enjoying time with my husband, Steve. Together, we have three grown sons and four grandsons and one granddaughter. She calls them my own true life heroes. On rare days off from writing, you might catch her at Disneyland spoiling those grandkids rotten!

When she wants some quiet time with her guy, they escape to their little cabin in the mountains and park themselves out on the deck and let the world race by.

Hope on the Horizon by Cassie Hayes

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Hope_on_the Horizon_2700Excerpt:
Cora’s green eyes sparkled at his words and it was all he could do to keep his gaze from drifting down to her plump, pink lips. They looked so soft and tender, and they were parted in the most inviting way…

Clearing his throat, he snatched his hand back, jumped up and went back to cleaning. Anything to keep his mind off what had just popped into his head. She was begging him to tell her what to do. It would be so easy to manipulate her, get her to stay on with him and cook him fine meals like that every night, among other things. But his heart rebelled at such a disgusting, selfish act.

Maybe his words would get through to her that she was finally the mistress of her own life. Still, he had a hard time believing that she never had any influence on what happened to her.

“You didn’t have a say about nothing on your trip out here? Didn’t your husband ask you what you thought about which route to take?”

“No, why would he?”

Jasper barked out a surprised laugh and shook his head. What kind of man didn’t consult his wife on important matters?

“Well, it’s your life, too. I know I woulda wanted more opinions than just my own.”

“He did have more opinions. We set out with four other wagons heading to Idaho, including his brothers, Rafe and Dale. When Rafe took sick back in Fort Laramie, Amos sent the rest of them on, including Dale. We’re a week or so behind them.”

“You musta missed having the extra company,” Jasper mused, studying her carefully. She dropped her gaze, almost like she was ashamed or something.

“Not really. I suppose I miss the company of the ladies. They were nice enough, but nothing really made up for having to put up with Dale. He was Amos’ brother, though, so there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

Something in her tone made him bristle. “Why was he so bad?”

“He’s a brute. Amos was the oldest, Rafe the youngest, and Dale the meanest. He didn’t have a wife to cook for him, so he always ate with us. Made me mend his clothes and whatnot. He’d bully Rafe into taking care of pretty much everything else. Amos did his best to keep him in line, but it didn’t always work.”

Already Jasper didn’t like this Dale character. Her clipped tone and sudden stop made it clear there was more to the story. He had to know.

“You know, Cora, now that Amos is gone, you prolly won’t ever see him again. Ain’t no shame in telling a friend what he done.”

She looked as surprised as he felt at his use of the word “friend”. But if they weren’t friends, what were they? Her cheeks pinked up in the most fetching way, but she nodded her agreement.

“He would say things to me, vile things, when Amos was out of earshot. Things no man should say to any woman, much less his sister-in-law. Told me Amos would never believe me if I told, that he’d never believe a…I can’t say the word. Let’s just say, a lady of questionable morals.”

Whore. She means whore. Jasper clenched his jaw and wiped off the last of the dishes into the slop bucket.

“In the end, I didn’t want to rock the boat so I stayed silent. Besides, I’m only a laundress from Peoria. What do I know about surviving a journey into the wild west? I relied on Amos to make the right choices and he chose to partner up with Dale.” She paused, understanding truly dawning in her eyes. “And now it’s all up to me?”

With a grimace and a nod, Jasper said, “That it is.”

He grabbed the soup pot and dishes and headed out the door, wanting to give her a little space to think, not to mention give himself some time to clear his head. Something about her got him all turned around and backwards, and what he really needed to do was focus on his farm. If he wanted Mr. Finnegan to extend his contract, he’d have to bust his hump to catch up on almost two days of lost work.

Blurb:
When tragedy strikes, love blooms…

Jasper Eaton couldn’t be happier with his life. Despite having the deck stacked against him since the day he was born, he beat the odds and found himself a home in Morgan’s Crossing, Montana. He has friends, a farm and a future brighter than the stars in the night sky. Nope, he couldn’t be happier.

Or could he?

Cora Winters is a good girl who always does what she’s told. When she’s forced to marry an older man headed west, she never dreams she’ll end up widowed, injured and left for dead by the side of the road.

After Jasper rescues her, Cora proves to be a charming helpmate on his farm as she recovers. But it won’t last long. For the first time in her life, Cora must choose her own path. She could settle in Montana or continue on to her homestead in Hope Springs. But heading to Idaho would mean leaving Jasper behind because he would never give up his farm.

Or would he?

As their friendship blossoms, they each dare to dream of a better life together. When Cora’s past comes back to haunt them both, a gunman’s bullet threatens to kill their future before it even begins.

Hope on the Horizon is the prequel to the Western Sunset series, set in the fictional town of Hope Springs, Idaho. Look for the first book in the series in April, 2016.

Amazon buy link:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01BL0HKJ6/?tag=cassiefb-20

CassieHayes640Bio:
Bestselling author Cassie Hayes grew up pretending she was Laura Ingalls (before that pesky Almanzo arrived on the scene) in the middle of Oregon farm country. She lives with her husband and cat on the Pacific Ocean and loves to hear from her readers.

Connect with her at:
www.CassieHayes.com
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www.goodreads.com/cassiehayes
list.cassiehayes.com

Issac: Letters of Fate by Paty Jager

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IsaacWhen I finished my last historical western romance series, I started brewing up the next series I wanted to write and came up with, Letters of Fate. This is a series that is linked by the hero receiving a letter than changes his life and brings him to the woman who captures his heart.

After I’d decided on this series, I was approached to be part of a Kindle World Project authored by Debra Holland. It seemed like a good way to help jump start my new Letters of Fate series.

Isaac Corum is a mine guard at the mine in Morgan’s Crossing owned by Michael Morgan, one of Debra’s characters and part of her Montana Skies series.

Isaac: Letters of Fate

Historical western filled with steamy romance and the rawness of a growing country.

Alamayda Wagner’s life has left her cynical, but also vigilant, and that’s what propels her to Morgan’s Crossing, Montana in order to uncover the secrets her father took to his grave. She quickly discovers her only hope includes trusting Isaac Corum. That soon proves to be expensive, and not just financially.

The last thing Isaac Corum needs or wants is a snooty woman telling him he didn’t do enough to save her father, which is what her letter implied. He’d helped the man more than most people would have, and swears he won’t go out of his way like that again. He’ll meet her at the Sweetwater Springs train station, deliver her father’s belongings, and send her back the way she came.

But, dang it all, the woman doesn’t do a single blasted thing she’s told, and Isaac can’t just sit back and let her go traipsing off into the mountains alone…

 

Excerpt:

Isaac stopped the horses at the hitching post in front of the church. After climbing down, he grabbed the box of Alan’s belongings and marched up to the little house next to the church. For a brief moment, he had the notion to just leave the box with a note. But his conscience wouldn’t let him do that. He’d been the last person to speak with her father before his death. It seemed sociable he should talk to her.

He knocked on the door.

A pleasant-looking man, not much older than Isaac answered the door. “Good evening. May I help you?”

“I’d like to see Miss Wagner,” he said.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you Mr. Corum?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“We just sat down for the evening meal. Would you care to join us?” The reverend asked.

Isaac didn’t want to sit through dinner with the woman. “I’d prefer if you asked her to come out here. It won’t take long.” He’d noted the chairs on the porch. “We can sit there,” he said, walking over to one of the chairs and placing the box on the porch beside a chair.

“I’ll get Miss Wagner.” The reverend disappeared into the house.

A minute later, a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair pulled back in a severe bun, stepped out and scanned the porch.

Isaac stood, pulling his hat off his head as the woman walked toward him. He’d been wrong about her being big-boned and horse-faced. She was tall, but thin. The dark blue dress she wore hung straight from her shoulders to her feet with no curves in between. Not even a bump where her bosoms should be. Her long, thin face had a pointed chin and small, pointed nose. Her large, wide eyes were brown. She held out a thin, long hand.

“Mr. Corum?” she asked.

He gripped her hand gently for fear of breaking the thin bones. “Miss Wagner.”

She pulled her hand back and stared down at the box on the floor. “What’s this?” she asked.

“I brought your pa’s things to you. This way you can rest a day or so and head back home.” He said it with the enthusiasm he had for getting her back to Kansas and out of his way.

Alamayda stared at the box, then up at Mr. Corum. She usually looked down on most men. Mr. Corum, she had to tip her head just a bit to see into his gray eyes. He had several days of whisker growth on his face. His eyes were wide set with wrinkles at the corners. His nose long but not wide. A full bottom lip made his upper lip appear thinner. His square chin gave the appearance of a man who didn’t back down. His shoulders were wider than his narrow hips hidden beneath a long canvas duster. His hand when he’d clutched hers was wide with long fingers.

She had expected him to be closer to her father’s age and not her own. “Thank you for bringing me his things.” She sat in the chair closest to the box.

Mr. Corum remained standing. “Ma’am, I just wanted to let you know there was nothing that could be done for your father. The doc made sure he was as comfortable as could be until the end.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

Alamayda was about to say something when he opened his eyes and peered at her.

“It was nice meeting you. I can’t afford to miss too much work. I’ll be headed back to Morgan’s Crossing now.”

“Wait.” Her heart raced. He couldn’t head back. She hadn’t had time to see if the clues to the mine were in her father’s belongings.

He stared down at her.

“Give me a chance to go through my father’s things. I’m—” She didn’t want to tell anyone about her father’s hidden mine. Surely, if this man had been friends with her father he would know about it, but since he hadn’t mentioned it in his letter, she didn’t know if her father hadn’t told him or he planned to keep the mine for himself.

Mr. Corum sat on the other chair. “I’m sorry. As long as Alan was away from home, I didn’t think you’d be upset to go through his things.” He reached down into the box. “I didn’t send them home because they weren’t worth the postage.” He held up a dirty sweat-stained slouch hat. He handed it to her.

Alamayda held her breath and turned the garment over in her hands. There wasn’t anything unusual about the dirty hat. She placed it on the porch between them.

He pulled out a chambray shirt. It was well-worn with patches but clean. “This is his clean set of clothes. The ones he was wearing when he took sick I burned. They were covered in dirt and—”

She didn’t want to think about what might have been on her father’s clothing. She’d nursed a sick mother long enough to know there were accidents and such.

Her heart lurched at the thought he’d burned a set of clothing. “Did he have anything in his pockets?” She couldn’t bear to think this man might have burned up her only way of finding the mine.

“Only a couple coins. I put those in this clean pair of trousers.” He handed over a faded, patched pair of wool trousers.

She put her hand in a pocket and pulled out two dimes. Tears started to burn the back of her eyes. Her father had died with two dimes in his pocket. He’d sent money home over the years, never on a regular basis. She’d had to make sure the farm had supplied all she and her siblings had needed. She’d sold eggs and cleaned rooms at the local hotel to make enough money to buy the things they couldn’t make on their own, like shoes and tools. There had to be something in his things to tell her where the mine he talked about in his letters could be found.

Mr. Corum cleared his throat. “Here’s his coat but it’s kind of…” He didn’t have to finish.

Alamayda held her arm up in front of her nose. “Did my father never take a bath?” she asked, trying to imagine what he must have looked like the last few years.

“He’d take one monthly in the summer. He didn’t like to pay for a bath at the bath house. Many prefer the cold water of the river to the dirty water someone else has been sittin’ in.” He lowered the coat back into the box. “Your pa used the river so it was only during the warmer weather that he took a bath.”

She didn’t want to touch the nasty garment, but she had to see if there was anything in the pockets or perhaps sewn inside the lining. Holding her hand out, she waited for Mr. Corum to make up his mind about handing it over.

“You sure you want to touch this?” he asked.

She nodded even though she didn’t want to. But she had no choice. He held the coat out and she grabbed it with one hand. She pushed her hands into the gritty pockets and came up with nothing but dirty fingers. Holding her breath, she turned the coat inside out and felt the lining around the cuffs and hem of the coat.

“What are you looking for?” Mr. Corum asked.

She glanced into the box and didn’t see anything else. Dropping the coat back in the box, she folded her hands into her lap. They had to stink as bad as the coat.

“Mr. Corum, I’ll be returning to Morgan’s Crossing with you.”

Amazon buy link:  http://amzn.com/B01BL0HKJQ

 

Paty officeAbout the author:

Award-winning author Paty Jager and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. She not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it. All Paty’s work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Her penchant for research takes her on side trips that eventually turn into yet another story.

You can learn more about Paty at:

her blog; Writing into the Sunset

her website; http://www.patyjager.net

Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/pages/Paty-Jager/132536633482029

Newsletter: Paty’s Prattle: http://eepurl.com/1CFgX

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1005334.Paty_Jager

twitter  https://twitter.com/patyjag

How I wrote AMANDA’S RANCHER by Caroline Clemmons

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AmandasRancherI love to write and to read mail-order bride stories. Like most romance readers, I read to relax and dive into another world that guarantees a happily-ever-after ending. After all, if I wanted to be depressed, I could watch the evening news. You’re guaranteed a happy ending with my books. I strive to be factual as far as locale, dress, customs, and so forth for the time period in which I’m writing.

In planning AMANDA’S RANCHER, I first came up with my hero, Preston Kincaid. He moved to Montana Territory from Texas with his father after the death of his mother. Although Preston was happy in Texas, his father was determined to move to assuage his grief. Preston didn’t want his father starting over on his own. At the opening of the story, they’ve been in Montana for seven years and Preston is twenty-eight. He’s firmly established with his ranch and ready to wed and have a family. His father has encouraged him to write for a genteel Southern belle from Atlanta, which is where Preston’s mother grew up.

For my heroine, I wanted someone in jeopardy and on the run. I chose to make her the daughter of a prostitute in a small town near Atlanta, Georgia. In spite of her mother’s background, my heroine is virtuous and hard-working. When she testifies against bank robbers, they vow to kill her in retaliation. On the way to prison, they escape and kill a guard. She knows she has to disappear. The local sheriff aids her by taking her to Atlanta and seeing she is safely on a train. When the woman seated next to her on the train dies, she fulfills a deathbed promise by taking that woman’s child and identity.

Usually I set my books in Texas, which is where I live. AMANDA’S RANCHER is part of a Kindle World in which Debra Holland set the parameters. She chose eastern Montana, which is where her Montana Sky series is set. Another author, Lou Nelson, put together a map of the small mining town central to the books to supply a visual aid for the authors participating in this project. I set the ranch where my hero and his father live a half hour’s wagon ride from that small town of Morgan’s Crossing.

Writing in another person’s world is more difficult than in my own. I like challenges and stretching myself occasionally to keep growing as a writer. This book gave me the opportunity to delve into a new setting and expand my writing. But, I still wrote about my favorite cowboys, ranchers, and mail-order brides.

Books about mail-order brides are very popular. I believe it’s the unknown, fish-out-of-water aspect that keeps us entertained. In truth, there were many mail-order brides from the end of the Civil War up to the turn of the century (and beyond). Men moving west settled and wanted a wife, but there were not enough single women. Women in the east wanted to marry and have a family, but there weren’t enough eligible men.

Enterprising people set up as matchmakers to connect the men and women—the early form of Match.com, eHarmony.com, and others. Like today’s online matches, some were happy and some were disasters. Of course, those in my mail-order bride books are successful, but only after enough difficulty to keep the plot going.

Here’s the blurb for AMANDA’S RANCHER:

One desperate young woman.

A chance meeting.

A life-changing outcome.

Growing up in a brothel, Mara O’Sullivan battled public disdain and contempt, but always remained virtuous, kind-hearted, and gracious. After testifying against vicious bank robbers, her life is threatened and Mara must find sanctuary far from everything she knows.

One train ride changes her life as she fatefully meets a half-sister and a niece she never knew existed. But when circumstances end her sister’s life, Mara makes a deathbed promise that she’ll raise her niece as her own and take her sister’s place as Preston Kincaid’s mail-order-bride. As Mara and Preston grow closer, their marriage no longer seems like a ruse, but a relationship of love, passion, and desire.

Mara’s past comes back to haunt her and she finds herself in danger—will her new husband forgive Mara’s deceit and protect her as his own?

Here’s an excerpt from AMANDA’S RANCHER:

They reached the church and Preston jumped down from the wagon and came around to help her alight. With a smile, he lifted Iris high over his head before he set her on the ground. Her giggle brought tears to Amanda’s eyes.

That was the first time she’d ever heard the child make the girlish sound. Iris had smiled, spoken, but never laughed until she met Preston Kincaid. For that alone, Amanda would be the best wife she knew how to be.

Inside the church, Mrs. Norton handed Amanda a bouquet of daisies secured with a white ribbon. The sanctuary interior was plain with wooden benches and an altar raised one step above the rest of the floor. Although there were several windows, none had stained-glass as did the churches she’d seen in Georgia.

The minister was waiting at the front of the church and wore a black frock coat and matching string tie. His brown hair and beard were thickly streaked with gray. He stood at a simple lectern with what looked like a Bible in one hand while he conversed with another man.

Amanda was surprised only one other person besides Reverend and Mrs. Norton were in the sanctuary. She’d supposed Preston had many friends in the area and thought at least his ranch hands would attend. The second man turned and came to greet them. He proved to be an older version of her groom.

Preston cupped her elbow. “Amanda and Iris, this is my father. Most folks call him Tom, but I call him Papa.”

Amanda smiled at the handsome man who must be around fifty. He was tall, but maybe an inch shorter than his son. Silver sprinkled the same dark hair. “May I call you Papa, too?”

He beamed his pleasure and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’d be honored. And in the absence of your father, may I walk you down the aisle?”

“Would you? I’d be ever so grateful.” She laid her hand on his arm. Nerves had set in and she needed his support or her knees might give way.

Preston said, “Iris, why don’t you stand with me while my papa walks Mama to meet us?”

Iris shook her head. “Mommy, not my old mama?”

Preston frowned. “Old mama?”

Panic sent bile into her throat that threatened to choke her. Don’t throw up on your wedding dress. “Perhaps you remember my mother recently died.”

Sympathy shone from his blue eyes. “Of course.” He took Iris’ hand in his and strode to the front.

Mrs. Norton began playing the piano. She nodded toward Amanda. Papa Kincaid gently led her up the aisle.

Walking toward her husband, Amanda was conscious of Preston’s stare, as if he could see into her mind and knew her for an impostor. Although he held Iris’ hand, the intensity of his blue gaze unnerved her. She wondered if he was disappointed or if he were as numb as she.

Thankful for the presence of her future father-in-law beside her, she tightened her hold on Mr. Kincaid’s arm.

In response, he patted her hand her where it laid on his sleeve. Without looking at her, he whispered. “Steady as you go. We’re almost there.”

Iris gave a tiny wave and Amanda couldn’t resist smiling at the child. The little girl truly was a blessing. Focusing on Iris gave Amanda a target she could face.

When they reached the front, Mrs. Norton ceased playing.

Preston took the bouquet from Amanda’s hands. “Iris, would you hold this for Mommy so she and I can be married?”

Iris looked at him adoringly and reached to receive the flowers. Reverend Norton opened his Bible and began the ceremony. Preston took Amanda’s hands in his. She was conscious of his calluses, but also of the size and strength of his palms dwarfing hers.

When the minister indicated, Preston slipped a ring onto her finger. This new one belongs to me, even if my groom doesn’t know my true name.

After the ceremony, Preston brushed his lips gently against hers.

Iris clapped her hands across her mouth in surprise then said, “Mommy? That man kissed you.”

Preston knelt eye-to-eye with her. “I’m your new Daddy, remember? Mommy and I were just married and now I can kiss her whenever she says it’s okay. Do you think you can call me Daddy?”

Iris nodded. “Are you gonna kiss me too?”

He smiled broadly. “I certainly am.” He leaned forward and gave her a loud smack on the cheek.

The child giggled. Twice in one day this kind man had made Iris happy. Amanda owed Preston all her wifely devotion.

Buy link at Amazon:  http://amzn.com/B01BL0HKPK

 

 013Bio:

Caroline Clemmons is an Amazon bestselling and award winning author of historical and contemporary western romances. A frequent speaker at conferences and seminars, she has taught workshops on characterization, point of view, and layering a novel.

Caroline and her husband live in the heart of Texas cowboy country with their menagerie of rescued pets. When she’s not indulging her passion for writing, Caroline enjoys time with family, reading, travel, antiquing, genealogy, and getting together with friends. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Google+, and Pinterest. Subscribe to her newsletter here to receive a FREE novella of Happy Is Bride.

An Interview with Lynn Cahoon

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Wild HeartsWhat genre(s) do you write in and why?

Hi, I’m Lynn Cahoon. I’ve visited with Cynthia before when promoting my Bull Rider series. I write small town contemporary romance AND cozy mysteries. For me, the small town is the important thing. I love reading Robyn Carr’s Thunder Point series and visiting old friends. I hope my readers find the same comfort in my books. I’m devoted to happy ever after endings and the bad guy getting his due.

Tell us about your current series.

The Castle View series takes me home to Idaho, or at least my fictional northern Idaho town of St. Joseph’s.  I modeled the Castle compound on a small winery settled in a historical Missouri town. I love the idea of protecting large cats and even though I don’t have the skills, I wanted my heroine to be strong enough to take care of those lovely creatures. Future books will focus on the restaurant and winery on the property.

What is your favorite part of writing? What is your least favorite part of writing?

These are two sides of the same coin. I love new ideas and starting a new book, with infinite possibilities makes me giddy. I always think the new book waiting for me to write will be so much easier than the one I’m writing now. As I’m writing, I question my book, my craft, my choice of career, smack dab in the middle of the writing. My plan is to just write and then worry about all the insecurities that arise later. Daily words gets you through the pain and over the over side.

What is your next project and when will it be released?

Besides my first cozy mystery series (Tourist Trap – Murder on Wheels just came out yesterday Feb 2nd, with another book releasing June 7th – Tea Cups and Carnage), I’ll also have my first Mass Market paperback release on August 30th – A Story to Kill – A Cat Latimer mystery.

In the romance genre, I’ll release Roadside Attraction (Book 2 of the Castle View series) by March 31, 2016 with the final book – currently unnamed in the first half of 2016.

What is your typical day like?

I work full time at the day job still while I’m paying off debt. So I’m up early, get a few words written and my Facebook pages updated. I promote any blogs I’m on that day, then head off to my other job. When I get home, I aim for at least an hour actually writing and then some time in the social media world. There’s always something needing my attention. I goal a word count of at least 7K a week.

What advice do you have for other authors wanting to self-publish?

I would suggest people start with a small press and get the author thing down first. I know, not the most popular route, however, I had a great experience with several small presses (if not a totally profitable one.) I learned to write fast, promote, and deal with edits. I also learned what didn’t work. I aimed high, I originally pitched my Bull Rider series to HQ American. When I finally got my no (they wanted me to take out the secondary characters that I LOVED), I went small press for the manuscript.

Now, that I’ve got twenty books under my belt, I’m starting to self-publish my traditional rejects and I’ve started a whole new level of learning how to be a hybrid author. Failure isn’t not succeeding, it’s not trying.

Was your road to publication fraught with peril or a walk in the park?

Both? I love talking about my path. As I said above, I was aiming for HQ American. I pitched, submitted, and waited. And more importantly, kept writing. In 2012, I was in Idaho visiting family when my last rejection letter arrived for Bull Rider’s Brother. That next Friday, I sent a blurb to Crimson Romance, and by the end of the week, I had a contract. I also got a contract that month on my contemporary witch paranormal novella (The Council series) through the original Lyrical Press. (Yeah, branding is not my strong point.) I accepted both and kept writing.

In 2013, I got an offer on Guidebook to Murder (Book 1 of the Tourist Trap series.) By that time, I had two books out for the Bull Rider series and two contracted for Lyrical. I switched focus, wrote the next two books for Tourist Trap and in 2014 eKensington released all three, with Guidebook hitting the NYT’s list right before RWA Nationals in San Antonio.

That was crazy exciting times.

Since then, I’ve contracted six more Tourist Traps and in 2015, got a print first offer for a new cozy series. I finished the Bull Rider series and self-published a novella in that series. I followed Lyrical to their new home with Kensington, so two of my series are with the same publisher. When they turned down the third book in The Council series, I self-published that as well as a novella I got rights back on in 2015 after the publisher got tired of writing me such tiny checks (grin).

I believe in Bob Meyer’s advice, always have a spec book on hand to pitch. So I’m still creating new worlds and loving it.

How far do you plan ahead?

I’m writing this in December 2015 and I’ve already been planning the next two years. What I’ll be writing, what I’ll be editing, what I’ll be releasing, conferences, and other factors that might affect my work output. And what my income might be during that time. As a digital first author, it’s all based on royalties. I got my first advance this year which was crazy amazing. But mostly, it’s all a guess. That’s one reason I’m holding on to the day job for a while. I want to make sure I can live off writing income.

Do you have any words of inspiration for aspiring authors?

Write every day, finish the darn book, rinse and repeat. You don’t know what you love writing until you write it. And you don’t know who you are as an author for at least a few books. Having a great idea isn’t enough. Writing reminds me of The Phantom Tollbooths –Slogs of Despair. (Or I think that was the place.) That’s the middle of the book for me. And it’s so much easier to start something new. But you have to finish a book. Then tear it apart in edits and finish another one.

Having achieved your goal to be a published author, what is the most rewarding thing?

Setting new goals. Honestly, you never are done setting goals and striving for new successes. The publishing world is all about what you’ve done lately. The single most soul sucking mistake new authors make is believing their first book is going to take the world by storm. I have so many friends who have only published one book and keep wondering why, years later, its not selling. Write the next book. And then another.

Be an overnight sensation after ten years.  J

Wild Hearts: Book 1 of the Castle View series

BLURB

A Fresh Start –

Abigail Johnson just nabbed her dream job, running Castle View’s Big Cat Sanctuary. However, after she moves with her daughter from Seattle back to her hometown, Mark Castle drops the bombshell. The sanctuary is on life support and she shouldn’t even unpack.

Feeling torn –

Mark has one chance to save the family business on the verge of bankruptcy. And no one can deny, the tiger sanctuary is dripping in red ink. Closing it is the responsible thing to do. At least financially.

One final shot –

The sanctuary’s existence hinges on winning one of the most prestigious grants in the zoo world, The Wildlife Conservation Society –Hagenbeck Grant. Can Mark wait for Abigail to save the sanctuary or will the bank and the other Castle kids push him to sell off the one place the cats call home?

 

Excerpt:

“We’re never moving again.” Abigail Johnson scanned the stacks of boxes for one labeled ‘bathroom.’ The moving company’s flyer had promised her belongings would be gently placed in designated rooms. Instead, boxes were crammed in the small living room with most of the furniture. The delivery scheduled for Friday hadn’t arrived from Seattle until Sunday evening. Now, Abigail searched their possessions for a hair dryer so Becca wouldn’t go to her first day of school with wet hair.

“Mom, hurry up, I’m dripping.” Becca’s screech came from the bathroom. Even at six years old, patience was certainly not in her daughter’s demeanor, even though it was her middle name.

Just like Grace didn’t describe Abigail.

Like mother, like daughter.

“Find a towel.” Abigail climbed on the top of the couch trying to reach the last stack. Her fingertips brushed the top of a lid just as a knock sounded on the front door. Damn, he was already here. “Come in,” she yelled stretching farther, balancing her weight, inching her fingers closer. The back of the couch jiggled under her feet.

With one last try, her fingers grazed the sides of the box and she grabbed. The couch rocked, out of control. Bracing herself for the fall, she closed her eyes.

Someone grabbed her waist pulling her backwards. The couch tipped into place as she was lowered to the floor. Strong arms surrounded her and a hard chest supported her back. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. She held the box over her head like a racing trophy.

Glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mark Castle. The cutest guy in seventh grade. Eighth grade, ninth grade. Aw hell, he’d been the cutest guy she’d ever met. Deep, dreamy brown eyes. Now, he was her boss.

“Thanks,” she whispered. She stared into his eyes, lost in the moment. Then she realized his hands still circled her waist. She pointedly gazed at his hands around her in a tight grip. “I’m safe now.”

Mark’s eyes widened as he dropped his arms. “You could have hurt yourself. What were you thinking?”

Abigail sat the box on the couch and ripped the packing tape off. Digging under a few bath towels, she grinned and held up the device. “Success!”

Mark folded his arms. “You almost killed yourself over a hair dryer?”

“Stop being so dramatic. I wouldn’t have died from the fall. Hold on a sec.” Abigail scooted between Mark and the boxes. She poked her head into the small bathroom where Becca sat on the edge of the tub, wrapped in a robe. “Here you go, sweetie. Now get your butt in gear or we’re going to be late.” She paused, “I need to talk to my new boss for a minute. Let me know if you need anything.”

Abigail returned to the living room crowded with stacks of boxes and furniture. Mark stood out in the room looking uncomfortable and out of place. She didn’t like this impromptu visit one bit. Apparently, neither did Mark, as he paced like a cat in a cage.

CahoonBIO – New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, Lynn Cahoon is an Idaho native. If you’d visit the town where she grew up, you’d understand why her mysteries and romance novels focus around the depth and experience of small town life. Currently, she’s living in a small historic town on the banks of the Mississippi river where her imagination tends to wander. She lives with her husband and two fur babies.

Website- www.lynncahoon.com

Buy Link – http://www.amazon.com/Wild-Hearts-Book-Castle-View-ebook/dp/B018LF4HE0/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

CORA, Bride of South Dakota by Susan Horsnell

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Cora,BrideofSouthDakotaBlurb:
Cora, Bride of South Dakota is fortieth in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides series.
Cora Ancelet’s father hates her.
When a fire ravages the factory where she works, her father orders her to find another source of employment or marry his evil political ally, a man old enough to be her grandfather.
After being handed a Grooms’ Gazette, Cora takes the desperate step of becoming a Mail Order Bride.
John Franklin wants a woman to wake up to. A woman who will love him and his ranch, and ultimately give him the children he craves.
Will placing an advertisement for a Mail Order Bride turn out to be the best decision he has ever made for both him and Cora or, is tragedy afoot?
If you enjoyed reading this book, there are 49 more in the series! Find out about the rest of the American Mail-Order Brides here, http://www.newwesternromance.com
EXCERPT
Cora stepped onto the platform in Rapid City and glanced around. She searched for John amongst the milling crowd. Her hands shook nervously as she clutched her reticule. This is it. You’re about to meet the man who is to be your husband.
 
“Miss Brown. Miss Rose Brown?” the station porter asked.
 
“Yes,” she answered.
 
“Your luggage is by the waiting room for you,” the man said.
 
Before Cora could thank him and offer a coin, he scurried away. She returned to searching the thinning crowd for John’s face.
 
Then, not ten feet away, she saw him for the first time. He seemed to be searching for her but how he was ever expecting to find her, she didn’t know. Cora had never sent him a picture, only a description.
 
She took advantage of her knowledge to study her intended. His picture did not do him justice. This was the man who was to become her husband and wow, what a man! He was tall, really tall. His blonde hair showed signs of being bleached by long hours in the sun. His skin was golden brown, his lips full and definitely kissable. But, his eyes were what snared her attention. They were the brightest blue she had ever seen, bluer than the sky on a bright summer’s day.
 
Her eyes continued their perusal. His coat was unbuttoned, his shirt pulled taut against his broad chest. A belt with a large buckle cinched the jeans at his narrow waist. His legs were long but judging by how tight his pants hugged his thighs, they were also muscular. She sighed loudly. The man was more handsome than she’d dreamed despite the scar on his face. She swallowed hard and tentatively stepped towards him.
 
“Mr. Franklin, I’m Cora” Her voice was husky with nerves and she offered a shaky, gloved hand.
 
“But, the porter called you, Miss Brown.” John was confused, he ignored Cora’s hand and his beautiful blue eyes narrowed. “I assume you have an explanation. I can’t abide liars.”
 
The tone of his voice was more serious than angry but it still caused Cora to tremble and step back a pace. What if he didn’t understand and sent her back?
 
“Mr. Franklin, I promise I can explain if you give me a chance. Is there somewhere we can go and talk?”
 
John heard the pleading note in her voice and his annoyance settled. “Very well.” She was so beautiful it took his breath away. He couldn’t stay mad. He spun around and spoke to another man standing nearby. “Sam, can you get Miss Ancelet’s luggage to the wagon? I’ll take her to Lilly’s for tea so we can talk.”
 
“Sure thing, John. Henry, Frank and me will grab a drink at the saloon while we’re waiting.” Sam ambled away with the two other men.
 
John placed his arm on Cora’s elbow to escort her away. A jolt so powerful caused stars to dance in front of her eyes, she became breathless and stumbled. His arm whipped around her waist to steady her and he gazed into her eyes questioningly. Had he felt it too?
 
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I felt a little light headed. I must have been affected by the long journey.”
 
“No need to apologize.” His deep voice caressed her. “Maybe you need something to eat.”
 
They left the station arm in arm.
61r1ghk36cL._UX250_Links:
Bio:

I grew up in Sydney but now live in sunny Queensland where I spend my days walking my dogs, reading, writing and renovating our home. Married for almost 42 years, my husband and I also enjoy a great deal of travel.