Welcome to Excerpt Friday! Each Friday we’ll be featuring excerpts from recent releases by our very own Fillies. So grab a cup of coffee and read on. And if you find you’re hooked by what you read (and we know you will be!) just click on the book cover to purchase the entire book.
From Author Phyliss Miranda – The Troubled Texan
Note from Phyliss: To one reader I will give you a gift card to purchase “The Troubled Texan”. And, to a second reader who leaves a comment, I will send them a Bath and Body Works gift certificate.
Alternating blue and red lights flashed from behind, jolting Rainey Michaels’ gypsy mind back to the dusky Texas highway not far off Interstate 40.
A single blast of a siren from a county marked club-cab pickup sliced the air.
“Son of a ..l” She slammed her hands on the steering wheel, tapped the brakes and pulled to the soft shoulder of the road. Speedling! I had to be speeding. And her proof of insurance had blown away when she’d opened the glove box way back in Tennessee.
Trouble had found her and she hadn’t been in the Texas Panhandle more than an hour. In this Godforsaken county, she’d be lucky if she didn’t get the book thrown at her.
She had carefully selected FarleySprings to relocate because it was far enough away from her hometown of Denton, Texas, for her not to be recognized, while small enough to feel at home. Along with the fact she had prepaid a six-month lease on a building sight unseen in the Podunk city. She had planned to slip quietly into town and go inconspicuously about her business. But now … that might be impossible.
In the rearview mirror, she saw the silhouette of the officer unfold from the patrol car. He carried himself with a confident presence, an air of authority. Most likely there would be no talking her way out of a ticket.
There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his stride, as the tall man approached. No doubt, she had found trouble and he came with a Stetson, a Glock .45 on his hip, and the means go unravel the elaborate ruse she’d constructed.
From the way the deputy pulled the white felt hat low over his eyes and lifted back his jacket to touch his service revolver, he expected instant obedience. A no-nonsense type person who would enjoy making an example of a commonplace automobile with New York plates speeding through his sleepy Texas town.
Biting on her lower lip, she jerked open the gym bag and retrieved her new driver’s license and auto registration card. Maybe he wouldn’t ask for her insurance card. Not likely, but maybe.
He looks tough and way too cocky, but great body! Her tongue danced along her upper lip.
Shadowed by the remnants of a lazy West Texas sunset, the big man trooping her way reminded her of Donovan Cowan, Sr., the tough-as-nails longtime sheriff of Denton. Teaching the teenagers a valuable lesson, if he caught them speeding, they were an automatic overnight guest of the county. Swallowing hard, she tried to dislodge the knot in her throat. The death of the gruff old hound dog, killed in the line of duty, had been plastered all over the Internet for weeks.
As though she stepped on a grave, thoughts of his son Deuce chilled her musing. After nearly three decades of trying to ignore his existence, why would she think about the baddest good boy she had ever known?