Excerpt

New Story, IF SHE WERE MINE, is on Pre-Order

by

Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Well, while we are getting the e-book ready to publish (all the editing and proofing is now done) we’ve put the new book up for a Pre-Order.  Here is the link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GWY3P5KS?tag=pettpist-20

It’s on sale at 40% off what the price will be once all the promotion is done for its release — that is to say, it’s regular price is $5.99.

And I’ve tweaked the blurb a little for Amazon.  Here is the new blurb:

 

AI-FREE! 100% organic author-created content. No artificial intelligence was used in the writing of this book.

If you enjoy stories about how love can win, despite terrible wrongs and extreme prejudice, this story is for you.

A star-crossed love, treachery, and a desire that will not be denied.

Briella Feher is in love, but not with her fiancé. Her father has exiled her from the sweeping plains of Montana to New York City “for her own safety,” commanding her to marry within her heritage and class. Raised in Indian Territory, Briella was shaped as much by the Pikuni—Blackfeet—people as by her aristocratic Hungarian family. Viewed as a cowgirl, Briella doesn’t fit in with society. Perhaps it’s the guns she wears strapped to her evening gowns. Her heart has always belonged to Red Fox, the Pikuni medicine man who taught her to survive on the prairie, the man who was her teacher, her first love. When James Maximillian III proposes—with the condition that he keep his mistress—Briella accepts, seeing his proposal as her only path back to Montana and to Red Fox.

Two years apart have not cooled the fire between Briella and Red Fox, yet his honor won’t allow him to claim this woman who is promised to another. With the escalation of the Indian/Cavalry wars, Red Fox believes distance is the only way to protect the woman he loves. Then a vision reveals a devastating truth: Briella’s fiancé is hiding a lie that could shatter every vow. It’s now up to Red Fox to find the truth.

But, time is running out and forces are aligned against them. Can Red Fox find the proof and expose the treachery in time to alter the ending of their Romeo and Juliet romance, or will he lose Briella forever in a romance destined for tragedy?

Warning: This is a forbidden love story—forbidden by both sets of parents–which begs the question: will the hero and heroine get a second chance at love? Set in the 1870’s, this sensual love story is sprinkled with paranormal, Native American style. But, if you love the old west as it was lived and loved by the First Americans, you’re going to love this story.

And I should tell you I will be giving away a free e-book from this series — winner’s choice.

So let me share another except from the new book.  In this story both the heroine’s and the hero’s parents are against these two marrying.  Both have “good” reasons, so they think.  But, when all is said and done, love will win out.

IF SHE WERE MINE

By

Karen Kay

Excerpt #2

Grasping hold of the parfleche tube he had tied onto his pony, Red Fox took out his white buckskin clothing and shook out the garments. These were his best, his fanciest, buckskin clothing. They had been given to him by his grandfather upon the first event of Red Fox having publicly healed a rich man’s pony, it having become lame because of a disease upon its leg.

His grandfather had been a bigger man than he, and several snows ago, Red Fox had cut, sewn and tailored the clothing to fit his own frame. Red Fox shook out the stunningly white buckskin clothing and inspected the regalia to ensure every feather in the headdress was neatly in place. He then looked over the beadwork to ensure each bead was still firmly sewn into the leather and was not likely to fall off.

Standing upon a shady patch of ground within an outgrowth of pines growing atop one of the numerous buttes overlooking the Féher ranch, Red Fox inspected the white buckskin leather shirt with blue-and-white-beaded “V” shapes falling down over the shoulder straps. All were intact.

He then put his attention on the cloth breechcloth, the white leggings and moccasins, all beaded in the same design as the shoulder straps. Leather fringe about eight inches in length, as well as long locks of black hair scattered in amongst the buckskin fringe, fell from each sleeve. The same fringe lined each seam of the leggings of the regalia.

A looping white-beaded necklace which would fall from his neck was unbroken, while the headdress of eagle tail feathers stood straight up, then fell all the way to the ground. Two long ermine furs were attached to the bonnet in front; these would fall over the shoulders. The strip of beadwork in front of the headdress was in the same style as the shoulder straps.

Niitá’p, this regalia was the best clothing he possessed, and what an honor it had been when his grandfather had passed these clothes down to him.

As Red Fox donned the clothing, he listened to the strains of what he knew to be the white man’s music. It was quite pretty. The sound was floating up to where he was standing, up high upon a ledge of a cliff overlooking the Fehér ranch.

Picking up his rifle, which he kept in a beautifully beaded parfleche case—a present from his sister—he turned around and climbed to the top of the cliff. The prairie stretched out from behind him, requiring him to step up a little before he could stride out upon the flat plains toward the spot where he had left his pony. Ensuring his pony was not hungry and had plenty of grass to eat here within a growth of pines, he satisfied himself that his pony would be well hidden, this especially so because Hunts-with-the-wind would keep watch over the animal. Breathing in deeply, Red Fox then retraced his steps and set off on foot down toward the party.

****

Watching the dancers from the patio outside the ballroom, Red Fox felt definitely the outsider. He, alone, was outfitted in Pikuni garb. And, the others? They were beautifully dressed, yes, exactly as Eagle Heart’s woman had said they would be. But, all here wore white man’s clothing, since his relatives, all but George and his wife, had left earlier in the day to rejoin the Pikuni encampment. Even the “hang around the fort” Indians were clothed in white-man’s garb.

Where is she?

Although Red Fox had a long acquaintance with the white man’s fashion sense, as well as his dances, he had never seen this kind of smooth gliding where it looked as if the men and women were floating in each other’s arms around and around in a circle upon the dance floor. Silently, he thanked the wife of Eagle Heart for instructing him in the steps of the waltz.

He had witnessed, of course, the jig, the polka and even several Indian dances from other tribes that included both men and women dancing, but never had he borne witness to such graceful movements nor had he observed the intimate way in which the men and women held one another.

Watching the couples’ movements as they whirled around the dance floor, he was captivated for several moments until he realized he still could not find Poka’aki.

Where is she?

Catching a glimpse of George waltzing with his wife, Red Fox felt himself relax. Here was something familiar; people he knew and loved.

Stepping proudly inside this place of music and dancing, he became unusually aware that he at once garnered a great deal of attention. People even gasped. Then he saw these same people turn inward to make groups where they talked amongst themselves and pointed toward him.

Perhaps this was done to cause him to feel uncomfortable, but it had the opposite effect over him. It empowered him, knowing how rude and crude were these people who could not even hide their curiosity, if this were what it was.

It wasn’t as if the Indian people weren’t also curious about these newcomers into their country, but they did not stare, nor so openly would they point at a person and then turn to gossip amongst themselves.

Was this aloofness and rumor mongering the sort of thing Poka’aki had been forced to endure in her exile from her home? If so, was there any wonder why she had agreed to a proposition that would enable her to leave there?

Ah, there she is.

So beautiful was she, he caught his breath as he recalled his youthful fear of her because of her beauty. She was wearing a dress in a light shade of pink that accented her figure in front, but was puffed out in back with what must have been yards and yards of material. It was trimmed in a deep color of red, and it seemed to shimmer in a cascade of waves as it fell to the floor. The shoulders of her dress fell down her arms, leaving the top of her breasts, her neck and her upper arms bare. A ribbon in the same color of deep red was tied around her neck, and the length of it fell down the dress in back. And, as she swirled around the floor in the arms of a man, the dark-red ribbon which fell down in back of her, swayed to and fro.

Her hair was caught up on top of her head, while curls of her dark, auburn hair fell over her shoulders. A tiny pink hat covered the top of her tresses.

He couldn’t remember seeing her so beautifully dressed. And, for a moment, an odd feeling come over him: would he ever be able to give her such riches? Worse, having now tasted this kind of life, would she require them?

He shrugged off the thought and studied the man who held her in his arms, and, as Red Fox witnessed the man’s possessive grip on her, Red Fox realized this had to be the man she was being required to marry. The gentleman was not an unhandsome fellow, though he possessed facial hair above his lips, a feature both Indian men and women abhorred.

He stepped farther into the room and took in the measure of this fellow holding Poka’aki. Although Red Fox longed to fade into the scenery in this place, he could not. Realizing his countenance and dress were too different and too exotic for those around him to act politely, he ignored their whispering and pointed glances.

Indeed, he concentrated on studying this man, Maximillian. If he were to envision a way to release his woman from this person‘s grip, Red Fox needed to understand Maximillian as well as he knew himself. The man was slender, tall, although perhaps a little shorter than he, Red Fox. The fellow, however, kept glancing to the east side of the dance floor instead of giving his beautiful partner all of the attention she deserved.

Looking to the eastern side of the dance floor, Red Fox saw the reason for it: a pretty young woman with the pale color of hair that was so rare upon these plains stood there, the object of this man’s attention. Remembering what Poka’aki had said about the man possessing a mistress, Red Fox surmised this woman had to be Maximillian’s undeclared sits-beside-him-woman.

And, though she was stunningly pretty with her blonde curls and blue eyes, there was a catch in her eye and a quality about her countenance that was not pretty. And, worse, she stared at Poka’aki with a look that was hardly likeable. Watching the interplay between this woman and the man who was dancing with Poka’aki, Red Fox knew it was only a matter of a few moments before he, Red Fox, would intercede.

As soon as the music of the dance ended, Red Fox paced forward and into the crowd of dancers, his steps taking him directly to Poka’aki and the gentleman, who, at this very moment, had laid his hand upon the small of Poka’aki’s back.

Inserting himself directly into the path of Maximillian and Poka’aki, Red Fox waited as the people around him cleared away until, at last, the gentleman beheld an Indian warrior, complete with rifle—although it was encased within its beaded case and was strapped around Red Fox’s shoulder—was standing directly in his path.

Red Fox watched the man physically jump, and had it been gentleman-like to scream, the fellow might have done so. As it was, he gasped and stopped walking completely.

“Red Fox! I was wondering when I might see you here! Welcome!” Dragging her escort with her, Poka’aki stepped up before Red Fox and proceeded with the introductions, saying, “Red Fox, this gentleman here is Maximillian the Third. Max, this is Red Fox, my friend, as well as my tutor into the ways of the Plains and how one can easily survive on them.”

Maximillian bent over at the waist and inclined his head, but he said nothing.

Red Fox simply nodded. Then, looking directly at Poka’aki, he said, “I would like to dance with you, Poka’aki.”

“Of course. They are playing another waltz, this one a little slower than the last. Do you know the dance?”

“I do, although I have only learned these steps this very day,” Red Fox answered. He then watched as Maximillian bent slightly forward again, clicked his heels together, and turning, he walked away, although Red Fox saw the man’s knees were shaky and bowed slightly outward as he walked.

Returning his attention to Poka’aki, Red Fox asked, “Will you show me how I should hold you like these other men are doing?”

“Of course I will. Now, you put your right arm around my waist, like so.” She placed his arm in the correct place on the small of her back. “Then you hold my right hand with your left, and listen to the music and the beat. One, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three. Do you hear the beat?”

“I do.” He placed his rifle, complete with its carrying case, a little more fully onto his back and out of the way, noticing at the same time that, true to her Pikuni teaching, a gun in a holster was wound around her waist.

“Good,” she said. “Now, starting with your left foot, we step up and back; up, two, three; back, two, three; up, two, three. Now, with your right and left foot, on steps two and three, you twirl around slightly, taking me with you as you twirl. Are you ready?”

“I am,” he answered. And, then he began to dance up and back; up, two, three; back, two, three; up, two, three; back, two, three; as he had earlier learned. Then, he commenced to twirl around. Gazing down at her, he witnessed her beautiful smile.

“You are a quick learner.”

“It is because I dance and sing every day to my ponies, and sometimes I dance while we are in camp. And, I often drum and sing as I dance.

“I know,” she said. “I have seen you do this, although only on occasion, and I have always thought you are most graceful.”

He smiled down at her. “Also, the wife of Eagle Heart showed me these steps today, though I did not hold her as I do you. She waltzed instead with her man, Eagle Heart.” When Poka’aki remained silent, he commented, “This dance is as it looks. It feels as if one is floating.”

She grinned up at him. “It feels, indeed, exactly as you say. How lovely it is to be in your arms. I have never seen this regalia before. Is it new to you?”

“Saa, it is not new. Never have I had the occasion to wear it before this night. It belonged to my grandfather.”

“And, was it passed down to you?”

He nodded.

She commented, “Perhaps our son shall inherit it.”

Red Fox missed a step while at the same time someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. He came to a halt and gazed over his shoulder, there to see Frederic Fehér behind him, Frederic’s lips were set into a frown and his eyes filled with censure.

“I am cutting in to this dance,” Frederic said.

Red Fox glanced at the brother of Poka’aki questioningly.

“It means,” said Frederic in a voice dripping with sarcasm and disapproval, “that I am now going to dance with my sister while you step aside.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Now.” And, with no more instruction nor so much as a kind word, Frederic placed his arms around Poka’aki and danced away with her, although Red Fox observed she was frowning as she spoke to her brother.

Puzzled, Red Fox looked toward Poka’aki, who took her arm from around Frederic to say to Red Fox in sign, “Do not be upset. This is sometimes done.”

What was he supposed to do? Stand here while the dancers twirled around him or bumped into him?

At last, Red Fox began to understand. And, waiting for Frederic and Poka’aki to twirl in close to him, he stepped up to Frederic and tapped him on the shoulder, only to experience the shame of Frederic ignoring him completely as he stepped quickly away and whirled around the dance floor, Frederic presenting a façade as if nothing had even happened.

Knowing Frederic had intended to create the sensation of wrongdoing within him, Red Fox determinedly refused to give the matter any of his energy. Instead, with a steady gait, Red Fox turned around and walked off the dance floor and out of the ballroom completely, leaving the lovely sounding music behind him.

And, lovely it was, indeed. He couldn’t remember hearing anything quite like it in his past.

For a moment, he paused on the wooden flooring outside the actual dance hall, doing little more than listening to the enchanting music. He would remember it. It was so very beautiful.

And, when the music for a jig began, Red Fox set off on foot over the plains, making his way back up to the ledge of the butte, where his wolf would be awaiting him.

****\

Well, that’s all for today.  Remember I’ll be giving away a free e-book from this series to one of you bloggers today, your choice.  So come on in and share your thoughts with me.

 

 

The Power of a Satisfying Ending

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Hi, Winnie Griggs here. Today I thought I’d spend a little time talking about giving stories a truly satisfying ending and a time when I got it wrong.

First, let’s discuss what makes for a truly satisfying ending in a romance?

It’s not just about getting the hero and heroine over their story hurdles and to their happily-ever-after. It’s about making sure we believe they earned that happiness, that it will last and that we have the chance to savor that ending.

As romance readers, we want to close a book with a contented sigh, confident that the couple has faced the hard stuff, worked through it together, and come out stronger for it. That emotional payoff is what lingers long after the last page is turned.

So what goes into building that kind of ending? Here are a few key ingredients I’ve learned over the years, as both a reader and a writer:

  • Emotional Resolution – Conflicts and obstacles between the couple should be convincingly resolved, not glossed over. If there’s been hurt, we need to see true remorse and believable forgiveness. If there’s been doubt or misunderstanding, we should see clarity.
  • Evidence of Growth – It should be clear that the hero and heroine have changed in meaningful ways. By the end of the book, they shouldn’t view the world—or their place in it—the same way they did at the beginning. And we should recognize this not just because the author says it’s so but through the character’s actions. We know they won’t make the same mistakes again, because they’ve learned from the journey.
  • A Glimpse of the Future – Whether it’s through words, gestures, or symbolic moments, we get to see that their love has staying power. It feels solid, not fragile.
  • Space to Feel It – Perhaps most important of all, the ending should carry enough story weight and breathing room to allow us to bask in the emotions. This big emotional payoff scene should never be rushed or perfunctory. The couple (and the reader!) should have time to savor the joy of hard-won love.

When I first wrote Sadie’s Reluctant Groom fifteen years ago (It was titled The Perfect Wife back then), I didn’t quite get this last one right. At the time, I was writing for a publisher and had wordcount restrictions to work within. By the time I neared the end of the book, I had already breezed right past the upper limit, so I knew I was going to have to do some significant trimming and tightening. With that in the back of my mind, I decided to keep the ending very tight. Unfortunately, I made it tighter than it should have been.

The result? An ending that I came to realize later felt too abrupt, one with not enough room for readers to fully soak in Sadie and Eli’s happily-ever-after.

Fast-forward to today, and I’ve learned a lot since then. I now know the importance of giving those payoff moments the emotional weight they deserve. If cutting or summarizing is needed, I do it elsewhere.

So when I got the rights back to this series, I had the chance to revisit Sadie’s and Eli’s story. Without those wordcount restrictions, I was able to rework the ending and I made sure to expand it, to let it breathe, allowing readers truly feel the resolution of Sadie and Eli’s journey. Hopefully I got it right this time.

You can check it out for yourself when Sadie’s Reluctant Groom releases on Sept 16th
Available for preorder now HERE

 

 

And just for fun I thought I’d share an excerpt from early in the book:

Sadie stared up from her less-than-dignified position as Mr. Reynolds knelt beside her, waiting for the inevitable censure. Instead, he met her gaze with a concern that took her completely by surprise. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

She blinked, not quite certain how to react to this softer side of the man. “Yes, I mean, there’s no need—”

Why in the world was she stammering? She took a deep breath then offered a self-mocking smile. “The only thing smarting at the moment is my pride.”

He studied her a moment longer, then offered a hand. “In that case, here, let me help you up.”

She allowed him to take her elbow, liking the feel of his strong, protective grip. When he placed his other hand at her back to steady her, she decided, that yes, she liked this very much indeed.

“You’re bleeding!”

Penny, her complexion ashen, was pointing to Sadie’s hand.

Sadie stared at the thin ribbon of blood running from her palm as if it belonged to someone else. Then she turned back to Penny. “It’s all right, princess. I must have put my hand on a bit of crockery when I fell. But it doesn’t hurt. Truly.”

Mr. Reynolds intervened. “Just to be certain, let’s clean it up and have a look.”

“Oh, that’s not necess—”

He caught her gaze and tilted his head ever so slightly toward Penny. “I think everyone will feel better if I do.”

Penny nodded. “You don’t have to worry, Aunt Sadie. Eli’s real good at making boo-boos feel better.”

She saw his brow go up at Penny’s use of ‘Aunt Sadie’ but he let it pass without comment. Warmed by the thought that he took time to address his sister’s ‘boo-boos’, she allowed him to steer her towards the sink.

Even as she followed docilely along, though, Sadie again tried to make light of her injury. “Truly, it’s just a little cut.”

“Best to be safe.” He carefully extended her hand over the sink, filled a dipper with water, then looked up. “Ready?”

Seeing reassurance instead of disapproval in those cool gray eyes of his was a new experience for Sadie, one she found she rather enjoyed. Then she realized he was waiting for her response. “Ready,” she answered.

He gave her an approving smile, then slowly poured the water over the cut.

It was strange to feel him holding her hand like this. His own hand was smoother than those of the ranch hands she was used to, but not soft in a namby-pamby way. She sensed strength there and an unexpected protectiveness.

“Looks like there’s a sliver embedded in your palm.” He glanced up and met her gaze again. “This might hurt a bit. I’ll make it quick.”

She nodded. Staring at his bent head, she noticed the way his hair tended to curl around his ear, how his brow wrinkled slightly when he was concentrating. His expression shifted and she saw the flicker of concern as he caught hold of the offending sliver, then the small spurt of triumph mixed with relief as he pulled it free.

“Sorry.”

She blinked and it took her moment to realize he was apologizing for any discomfort his actions had caused her. “I hardly felt a thing.” Which was the absolute truth as far as the cut was concerned.

Penny held out a bit of cloth.

Sadie had been so riveted by Eli that she hadn’t noticed Penny had crossed the room.

“You can use this for a bandage,” she said to her brother.

“Of course.” He took the cloth from her and again his touch was gentle and sure as he wrapped her palm in the makeshift bandage.

“Thank you.” Was that soft voice hers?

He cradled her hand a moment longer as his gaze caught on hers.

And held.

For several long, breath-stealing moments.

I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek into Sadie’s Reluctant Groom. You can learn more or pre-order HERE

About the Book

He’s looking for a proper wife. She’s determined to just be herself.

When independent Sadie and by-the-book Eli are thrown together to prevent a scandal, neither expects affection to bloom. But as trust grows and walls begin to crumble, they discover that love can come when it’s least expected—and sometimes, exactly when you need it.

Sadie’s Reluctant Groom releases September 16. Available for preorder now!

So what do you think?
Do you agree with my list of what goes into a memorable, satisfying ending? Is there anything you would add? Join the conversation and leave a comment to be entered in a drawing for your choice of any book from my backlist.

To Love a Beast Coming Soon!

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My next western fairy tale releases in less than a month. WooHoo! I can’t wait to share this one with you. Beauty & the Beast is my favorite fairy tale. How could it not be with a bookish heroine and a wounded hero? Add some forced proximity, a quirky supporting cast, and a vain villain seeking vengeance, and you know we’re going to have loads of fun!

 

 

Allow me to introduce you to our cast of characters.

Everett Griffin – Once known among New York’s elite as the American Adonis, he hides away in the wilds of Texas after being horribly disfigured by an outraged woman. Seeking to avoid public interactions, he embraces his beastly persona, frightening away anyone who steps on his land uninvited. (Everett means “wild boar” and Griffin is a mystical beast with a lion’s body and a bird’s head.

Callista Rosenfeld – Callista helps her father run a struggling book bindery. When her father injures his hand after taking on a large commission that would save their business, Callista takes the job upon herself, determined to complete the project no matter how many obstacles are thrown into her path. Including a beastly employer, his giant, man-eating dog, and a gloomy house that looks to be straight out of a gothic novel. Gargoyles included. (Callista means “most beautiful” and Rosenfeld pays homage to the rose that plays such a vital role in the fairy tale.)

 

Spartacus  – The giant Mastiff who roams Manticore Manor.

 

Mrs. Potter – The motherly housekeeper and collector of teacups. (Obviously a play on Mrs. Potts.)

Mr. Lightfoot – Mr. Griffin’s valet, man of business, and best friend. (“Light”foot pays homage to a certain dancing candelabra.)

Mr. Timens – The stuffy butler, local trivia expert, and a tinkerer of watches and clocks. (After all, “Time” is in his name.)

Yes, Disney’s Beauty & the Beast played a significant inspirational role in this story; however, the plot is completely new. Here’s a sneak peek at how the hero and heroine meet:

 

Courage, Callista. Just because you can’t see any evidence of his presence doesn’t mean that God isn’t with you. We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen.

Even as that scriptural assurance moved through her mind, something unseen made its presence known. Something with a deep bass bark that rumbled over her like the thunder of an approaching storm.

Her head spun to the right. Her gaze scoured the shadows for the guard dog whose territory she’d invaded. She saw nothing.

Heart thumping, she rushed ahead, praying the manor would be around the next bend. But before she could reach the bend in question, the barking shifted direction, now coming from in front of her. She stumbled to a halt. Leaves rustled nearby. The low-pitched barks grew closer. Nearly upon her. She’d never be able to outrun the beast.

Callista squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around her middle, and prayed for a miracle.

Gruff barks echoed with a percussive depth so near, she could feel them like tremors in the earth. Instinct urged her to flee, but reason glued her feet to the ground. He hadn’t attacked yet. She’d not give him reason to think of her as prey. Perhaps if she imitated a tree long enough, he’d grow bored and search for entertainment elsewhere.

However, the barks grew increasingly insistent. Apparently, her tree act wasn’t as convincing as she’d hoped. Or perhaps she was too convincing, for the beast decided to fell her. He rammed his head into her ribcage and threw her backwards. Callista let out a startled yelp as she stumbled and landed on her backside. Eyes wide open now, she stared into the face of the massive beast who stood over her. Even her imagination could not have conjured a dog like this. On all fours, he towered over her, his fur the tawny gold of a lion, contrasting with the dark brown of his face and eyes.

He barked again, and she flinched, bringing up an arm to fend him off.

“Spartacus. Heel!”

The dog’s countenance cleared as he turned toward the voice. A heartbeat later, he loped off the path and into the mesquite.

Callista scrambled to her feet, dusted off her rump, and turned in the direction the dog had gone. “Thank you, sir.” She lifted her voice to be sure the man could hear her. She strained for a glimpse of him but saw nothing. “My name is—”

“I don’t care what your name is. You’re not welcome here.” The harshness of the man’s tone took her aback. “I want you off my property. Now!”

Callista fisted her hands. She had not come all this way to be bullied into leaving before she’d made it to the front door. “I have an appointment with Mr. Lightfoot.”

“Mr. Lightfoot takes his orders from me, and I want you gone. End of discussion.”

End of discussion? Not likely. This boorish excuse of a human being needed a lesson in manners.

Swallowing her mounting frustration, Callista called forth the conciliatory tone she used on the rare occasion she had to deal with a difficult client. “I’m sorry if there has been some miscommunication.” She stepped off the path and began wending her way through the mesquite, hoping to have a civilized discussion face-to-face instead of yelling at one another across the vegetation. “I’ve been hired—”

“Stop right there!”

Did she detect a note of fear beneath the dominating anger? She took another step.

“Come any closer and I’ll sic Spartacus on you.”

She didn’t believe him. He might be rude and overbearing, but he’d called off his dog earlier. Intuition told her he wasn’t the type to harm an innocent woman. Scare her, yes. But not harm her.

Callista dared another step. “Please, sir. If you’ll just listen to what I have to say. . .”

“I’m done listening. Be gone!”

Hurried footsteps echoed from within the brush, and a moment later Callista caught a glimpse of the back of a man clad in a reddish-brown greatcoat darting between the trees, a giant dog at his side.

He had fled from her. Interesting.

With the threat of the Mastiff no longer looming, renewed determination bolstered Callista’s courage. She returned to the path and marched forward with purpose. The master of Manticore Manor would soon learn that she did not surrender so easily.

Preorder To Love a Beast Here.

What do you like best about the Beauty & the Beast tale?

The Romance
The Redemption of the Hero
The Bookish Heroine
The Library
The Supporting Cast
Other?

A sneak peek at my new release, plus a free ebook and audiobook for everyone!

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Hello everyone! This month, I wanted to share the first chapter of my brand new release! Stick around because at the end, I’m sharing the links for the prequel which is free, and it’s on ebook and audio, whichever you’d like. (Or both!) You ready? Gosh, I’m sooo excited for you to meet Eli and Hannah.

The Gunslingers

Chapter 1

1870s Oregon

 

“Shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Now, Gus,” Hannah Carson sighed. “Don’t say that. Especially around Meg.” She glanced over at her four-year-old daughter, who was wrapping her rag doll in a blanket. While her daughter hadn’t seemed to notice the old ranch hand’s comment, she didn’t want her repeating such things.

“I’m telling you, that’s what you do with men like that,” old Gus retorted. “I’m not leaving you while he’s here.” He folded his tanned, thin arms, heavily corded with veins, and leaned against the wall. “If I were a young man again,” he muttered, and then mumbled something so low Hannah couldn’t hear him.

Laying a hand on his arm and giving a gentle squeeze, Hannah nodded. She appreciated the gesture more than he likely knew, and tried to steel herself as Wallace Carson, her former brother-in-law, rode closer onto the property, approaching the house on his black mare.

“I’m going outside to talk with him,” she said, her voice quiet. If it quivered a little, Gus pretended not to notice.

“Not alone, you ain’t,” he said.

“Please, Gus. Look after Meg. Keep her inside.”

Gus frowned, the wrinkles in his weathered face growing deeper as he looked between Hannah and her daughter. Through the kitchen window, they could see Wallace dismount. “Fine,” he said. “But I’m staying near the window to hear. You scream, I’ll come a running. Won’t let him keep bothering you.”

With a short nod, Hannah stepped through the kitchen door and into the yard. She left her apron on, not wanting Wallace to think he was welcome or worth looking nice for. She left the door cracked so Gus could hear better. “Wallace,” she greeted, her voice neutral.

“Hannah. Came to see if you’d made up your mind,” he greeted, stepping close.

For a man with such an important question to ask, he sure didn’t look like he cared at all about how his appearance, she thought. He looked like he’d been out working in the fields all day, even though he never lifted a finger unless it was to boss someone else around.

Under his cowboy hat she knew sat a curly head full of graying brown hair filled with grease. His shirt was stained, with wet splotches under the arms and across his chest. The hem of his pants and the bottoms of his boots were mucky. She knew it wasn’t mud. They’d not had rain for well over a week now, though she wished it would pour, just so he’d leave.

That wasn’t to be, though. The sun shone brightly, the sky was a perfect-colored blue, and it was all in stark contrast to the gloom the man brought with him. Hannah steeled herself and shook her head. “I’m not marrying you, Wallace. I’ve told you that.”

As if he didn’t hear her, Wallace walked a few paces to the left and stared out at the field where a few dozen cattle grazed. He let his gaze roam over them, then turned, taking in the large garden and the barn, where inside four horses resided. A chicken wandered in the yard, pecking her way past, a chick following close behind. It was a feisty hen, and for a moment, Hannah let herself wish it would peck at her unwanted visitor.

Wallace looked back at her. “You can’t run this place on your own,” he told her. “It’s too much for you.”

“I’m not on my own. I have Gus,” Hannah said calmly.

“That’s not what I meant.” Wallace gave her a hard look. “You don’t have a husband. You don’t have a son. The land defaults back to my family, now that Jim’s gone.”

Hannah knew that. She’d always known that. Jim had told her before they were married, his fifty acres and all he had belonged to the family. The only way to keep it was for him to have a son. Then, it would rightfully pass to him. If something were to happen to him, it went back to his brother and his brother’s sons. Right now, Wallace had two, both in their twenties. Jim had been the youngest of six, so he was twelve years younger than his brother, and the only other boy.

At the time, she hadn’t worried about it at all. Jim was strong, healthy. So it was unexpected when, one day, he was attacked by a bear in the barn. Jim had shot it, but not before he’d been clawed badly. The wounds had gotten infected, and the doctor couldn’t help him. He’d died a few short weeks later, and his brother had been by several times since.

Each visit made during the last six months since Jim’s death had been the same. Asking her to marry him, and then threatening her when she said no. She half wondered if he was as tired of this as she was. Still, he didn’t give up in his persistence, and neither would she give in.

“You’ve no other option,” Wallace said. “Where would you go? You can’t stay here. This isn’t your land anymore.” He smirked. “There’s a nice spot waiting for you in my bed. Just say yes.”

With a shudder running down her spine, Hannah threw back her shoulders. From the day she’d first met Wallace, she couldn’t stand him. It might have been the way he leered at her, and every other woman he saw. It might have been the fact he’d always been jealous of his hard-working brother, who was their father’s favorite. It could even be that she just didn’t like him. She never could tell, but there was no way Hannah was marrying him. He’d worked his first wife into her grave. Everyone knew it. The woman had near wasted away. He treated her as little more than a slave. Hannah had met her once, just before she married Jim. The woman hadn’t spoken once. She was bone-thin, paler than a cup of milk, and had hollow eyes. Hannah didn’t want that to be her.

“I’m out of patience,” Wallace snarled. “Marry me, today. Or leave.”

“I can’t,” Hannah said, her voice firm. She was pleased it wasn’t shaking. Her shoulders back, she fixed him with a cool stare. “I’ve every right to be here. I’ve spoken with the lawyer.”

“No, you don’t,” he argued. His voice grew loud, and behind her, Hannah could hear Gus at the window moving closer. Without even turning around, she knew the old man was glaring at the man who he loathed as much as she did. She just hoped, for his sake and hers, he wouldn’t do anything foolish.

“I do,” she answered calmly. “You see, I don’t know yet that I don’t have a son.” She placed her hand gently on her stomach, her eyes fixed onto Wallace’s. “I have until my child is born before I either need to leave, or he claims the land.”

Wallace’s mouth opened and closed for a moment before he snarled, “That’s what you think.” He climbed back on his horse and turned it sharply.

As he rode out, the cloud of dust rising behind him, Hannah watched. She couldn’t feel triumphant. She didn’t dare. While she hoped for a son to give him his father’s inheritance, she knew that wasn’t something she had control of.

A shadow fell, and she looked over at Gus next to her.

“His face when you told him that,” he chuckled.

Hannah didn’t answer. She hadn’t cared about Wallace’s shocked expression. No, what concerned her was the hard look in his eyes, and the anger laced in his words. “That’s what you think,” he’d said.

Was that a threat? To her or to her unborn child? What kind of a man would do that?

But Hannah didn’t even have to ask herself that. She knew. Wallace would. The man was as evil as they came, and he’d always been envious that this land, Jim’s land, was better than his own. But he was right about one thing. She really didn’t have any options. If her child wasn’t male, there was nothing else she could do, because Hannah refused to marry Wallace Carson.

But would she be safe until then? Hannah glanced at Gus. She was sure worry was written on her face. It was hard not to be concerned. His single headshake, also showing his concern, didn’t make her feel one bit better.

“He’ll be back,” Gus sighed, and turned back toward the barn. He muttered as he walked, “Men like him don’t never give up.”

Hannah wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “And I don’t know how to stop him,” she whispered.

Keep reading here…

 

 

And, get the prequel where you first get to meet the gunslinger, and his friends!

 

 

Free audiobook here

Free ebook here

Now, before I go, I have a question for you all! What’s your favorite kind of hero to read about? Do you like a lawman? A cowboy? Someone who has a trade? What’s your favorite kind of guy to read about? I’d love to know!

New Release! Training the K-9 Companion {Giveaway!}

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Meadow background, book cover Training the K-9 Companion by Jill Kemerer, text "New Release & Giveaway, Petticoats & Pistols"

The third book in my Wyoming Legacies series is in stores now! TRAINING THE K-9 COMPANION follows Cade Moulten, a rancher opening a high-end horse-boarding operation, and Mackenzie Howard, the new veterinarian in town, as they train little Tulip to be a therapy dog for his grandmother. This Love Inspired book takes place during the summer in fictional Jewel River, Wyoming.

I enjoyed learning how rural vets utilize mobile trailers to treat cattle and horses on ranches. I also love writing books with dogs in them. Talk about a win-win! Mackenzie’s trying to convince local ranchers to trust her with their cattle, but she’s terrified she’ll make a mistake and lose an animal. And Cade needs high-paying clients to offset the reduced rates he plans on charging the locals to board horses at his new stables. On top of that, Cade’s mother insists on training a therapy dog to comfort his beloved grandmother, who has Alzheimer’s. Poor Cade never knows what to expect when he visits Nana.

Dementia and Alzheimer’s are terrible diseases. My father suffered from Parkinson’s and dementia, and I spent a lot of time at the nursing home with him before he passed away. I’m blessed with a supportive family who loves Jesus, and this story reflects it.

Don’t worry–the book isn’t all gloom and sadness! Cade’s mom is an unrelenting matchmaker. Add the warm, rowdy members of the Jewel River Legacy Club, and you won’t want to put the book down.

 

Book cover Training the K-9 Companion by Jill Kemerer. Mountain background, Pomeranian in meadow with daisies

Man’s best friend…
Could be the key to a second chance.

When rancher Cade Moulten decides to get a therapy dog for his ailing grandmother, he doesn’t expect a fluffy Pomeranian—or a pretty veterinarian trainer. But Cade will do anything to prove he’s a changed man, even train the small K-9 alongside Mackenzie Howard. Soon the weekly sessions with Mackenzie have Cade wishing for more. But will he risk revealing his shameful past for a chance at acceptance?

 

Purchase Training the K-9 Companion

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Read an excerpt!

As usual, the restlessness snuck up on him, and, too late, Cade Moulten realized his mistake. Offering to help his mother train a therapy dog was just another attempt to atone for his past.

He couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t if he could. Cade had other reasons—good ones—for being here.

“It’s not much to look at, is it?” His mother, Christy Moulten, sat in the passenger seat of his truck and stared at the small industrial building with faded gray aluminum siding. Next to it, a matching structure roughly three times its size shared the parking lot. The early June sunshine began to fade as the day wound down.

Cade cut the engine, and his mom bent to pick up her purse. A few months shy of turning sixty-four, his mother hadn’t slowed a bit. Her stylish blond bob, subtle makeup and smile lines gave her the appearance of someone who enjoyed life, but she also had a stubborn streak wider than a country mile.

At thirty-five, he’d mellowed to the point of not minding driving her around town whenever her driver’s license was suspended—and that was often—nor did he mind living with her in the big house on the ranch. Kept her out of trouble.

Maybe they kept each other out of trouble.

He pocketed his keys. “What’s it supposed to look like? It’s a vet clinic, not a spa, Ma.”

Cade had personally taken a loss on this property by selling it to the new veterinarian and her father for pennies on the dollar. Anything to convince a vet to take a chance on moving to Jewel River. When Dr. Bill Banks, the only veterinarian within two hours of here, retired last fall, it had affected every rancher and pet owner in this swath of Wyoming.

Jewel River needed a veterinarian ASAP.

***

Want to read more? Purchase Training the K-9 Companion!

You can find Training the K-9 Companion in Walmart and all stores that carry Love Inspired books!

To celebrate, I’m giving away one copy of  Training the K-9 Companion (US winner will receive a signed paperback, International winner will receive an ebook, void where prohibited by law.). Simply leave a comment below, and I’ll select a winner via random number generator. Giveaway ends on July 3, 2024 at noon EST, and winner will be announced in the comments of this post and in a separate post!

Do you love books with dogs and cowboys? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Thank you for celebrating my new release with me!

Banter is in the Eye of the Beholder by Valerie Comer

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I’m no rom com author, which is a very sad state of affairs. You see, I love a good smirk, even though I rarely truly LOL at the snark in stories. If a story billed as humorous makes me smile or snicker once or twice, I figure it’s done its job, because my sense of humor is a little on the oddball side, and a direct score is rare.

Which makes me all kinds of nervous as a writer. I know better than to claim to be funny, but I do always hope my readers will find something to smile about here and there. Dare I hope for an actual laugh? Maybe? I’m also happy to hear if readers shed a tear or two. Yeah, I’m mean that way.

Therefore, I don’t like to claim “fun banter” for my stories. I wait until a few readers have commented before I believe that my sense of humor has any sort of appeal to the wider range of readers. So humor me a moment. (See what I did there? Sorry. Couldn’t resist…)

To set the stage, Paisley and Weston have been working at the same ranch resort for over a year. She’s determined to crack his shell. He’s equally determined to keep her at arm’s length. She joins him on a trail ride against his wishes as they seek out a good camping spot for a group of tweens coming to Sweet River Ranch the following week. They’ve now reached their destination and are settling in with their lunch.

“What’s in your thermos?” Weston lifted it.

“Uncorrupted Earl Grey tea.”

He sent her a questioning look. “Uncorrupted?”

“Tea the way God intended. No sugar. No cream. Just black as sin.”

“Sin is corruption.”

It took her a moment before she burst out laughing. “Did you just crack a funny, cowboy? I’m impressed.”

That lopsided grin nearly hit both of his cheeks before flattening out. Progress.

“If you want some tea, I can share.”

Weston shuddered. “Coffee all the way over here. I brought a billy can.”

It was her turn to wonder what he meant. “Billy can?”

“For cowboy coffee. Who needs a thermos when they can brew up their own when they want?”

She settled on a rock and unscrewed the thermos’s lid. “Yet here I sit with my hot tea and don’t have to work for it right now.” She poured some into the cup that formed the lid and saluted him with it.

Weston had gathered a few twigs at some point. Now he added a handful of dry moss from the lower branches of a nearby tree and struck a match to it.

“Oh, a match! I thought you might rub two sticks together.”

He glowered at her before bending to puff gently on the tiny flame. It caught on the moss and then the twigs before flickering to ignite the slender sticks. Weston cracked a couple of thicker pieces against his knee and fed them in as the fire grew.

“Impressive.” She munched a handful of trail mix as she leaned back against a log.

Weston shot her a glare and held out his palm. “Can I have some?”

“May I?”

“Never mind.” He pulled his hand back.

“Teasing you, cowboy. Here. Have a handful, and I’ll get out the sandwiches.”

When he didn’t reach out again, she tossed the bag at him. Whatever. He might have loosened up a little, but apparently the big bad wolf was still present and in no mood to be teased about his grammar.

If you find that excerpt amusing or at least mildly interesting, you might enjoy my writing style! A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy is the third Sweet River Ranch Romance title. There’s some general series setup in the previous installments, but Paisley and Weston’s story is complete within this one, and enough background is revealed for you to quickly catch on.

GIVEAWAY – A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy is releasing in two weeks, on Thursday, June 27. Are you interested in an ARC (advanced reader copy)? I’m giving away five digital ARCs to those who’d like to read (and hopefully review) A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy early.

To toss your name in the proverbial hat, tell me what story (title/author) you’ve read recently that tickled your funny bone and what you loved about it. Which author(s) can you count on to provide levity in your reading experience? Bonus points for funny contemporary romance with a Christian worldview!

I’ll go first. Authors of Christian rom com whom I consistently look to for a laugh are Krista Phillips, Heather Gray, Becca Kinzer, and Sarah Monzon. I could probably name a dozen others!

Who’s your go-to?

Five winners, anywhere in the world, will be awarded e-book copies of A Sunny Sweetheart for the Cowboy via Book Funnel. I’m sorry; I can’t send paperback review copies. However, I expect both e-book and paperback versions to be “live” on Amazon on June 27. If reading in Kindle Unlimited is your thing, please look up my cowboys!

Valerie Comer is known for writing engaging characters, strong communities, and deep faith into her green clean romances. She only hopes her creations enjoy their happily-ever-afters as much as she does hers, sharing farm life in western Canada with her husband, adult children, and adorable grandkids. Valerie is a USA Today bestselling author and a two-time Word Award winner.
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Learn more about Valerie and her books at https://valeriecomer.com.

New Release & Give-Away

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Howdy!  Howdy!

Good morning, or evening!

Yes, indeed.  I have a new release out and it is book #4 in the new Medicine Man series.

And today, I’ll be giving away an e-book copy of the book to a lucky blogger.  Please leave a message.

As I often do when I have a new release out, I post an excerpt of the book, and I’ll be doing this today, also  Just as a mention, my respect for these two characters grew as the story progressed.  Both of them so different, yet both of them had so much respect for each other.

So the excerpt I’ll leave with you today comes at the very start of the novel, and is the Prologue.

 

This is the back blurb for the book:

A woman deserted.  A troubled warrior.  A passion denied. 

  1. When eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér is forced to flee her home in Hungary, she journeys with her younger siblings and her father’s manservant to Montana in search of her cousin. Mourning for her recently deceased parents, she sings a prayer to the grand, Montana mountains.  From the first moment Stands Strong hears Czanna singing, he is transfixed.  When he meets her, he is captivated as much by her dark beauty as he is by her voice.

But, after the family’s hired guide steals their money and runs, her father’s servant leaves Czanna to go and serve justice to the man, leaving Czanna desolate and in charge.  Being of the gentry class in Hungary, Czanna knows she and her siblings cannot survive in this land without help.  When Stands Strong comes to her aid, she realizes she must trust this man.

Lakota born, though raised by the Blackfeet, Stands Strong descends from a long line of medicine men, but this legacy seems to have skipped over him.  Accepting this, he has become an expert scout.  But, when Czanna attempts to hire Stands Strong as their guide, offering him the “evil gold rock” as payment, he suggests marriage to him instead.  Czanna refuses him, even though the flame of love is burning heatedly in her heart.

Can two people from incompatible cultures ever come together?  Or are their star-guided paths meant only to briefly cross?

Warning:  A sensuous romance that might cause a desire to go West in search of love and adventure.

 

She Brings Beauty To Me

By

Karen Kay

PROLOGUE

Pest, Hungary

The Estate of József and Mária Fehér

Spring 1855

  

“Czanna, hurry.  There is no time to waste!”

“What is it, Frederic?”  Eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér stepped from her bedroom into the grand hallway on the upper level of her family’s ancestral mansion.  By closing the heavy wooden door against her maid, who still lingered in the room, Czanna ensured her conversation with her brother would remain private.  It was important in these days after the Grand Revolution of 1848.  Even the walls had “ears.”  Indeed, since the revolution for independence had failed, their entire family was constantly on guard against spies.

Taking her brother’s outstretched hand, Czanna rushed with him down the hall, noticing details about the corridor she had always taken for granted: the white, gold-flecked marble flooring; the gold, woolen curtains and the gold hardware holding them in place; the white and gold tiles of the arched ceiling and the white columns with gold trim that supported them.

At the end of the passage loomed her favorite feature, though it stood more exactly outside the hallway.  There at the very end of the pathway stood a heavy gold-flecked glass door, opening up onto a balcony that supported a three-tiered fountain from which water fell down in every direction and at every hour of the day.  At the very top of the white fountain stood the statue of Dacso Fehér, one her noble ancestors.  And, there he reposed, captured in time, ever alert and ready to take action to defend his home, should there be a need.

Yet, she had only a moment to admire the grand walkway and its balcony because Frederic was ushering her toward the third-floor study, a room where they had often played in their youth.  He opened the door, closing it as they both hurried past the large rectangular desk that stood so stately upon a wall-to-wall woolen rug of blue and gold.  Her brother didn’t hesitate in his movements, ignoring the alcove overlooking the estate and guiding her into a corner of the room.  There he paused, and, since Frederic was acting in so clandestine a manner, Czanna prayed the acoustics of the spot would keep their conversation from being overheard.

As soon as they were both seated in the blue-and-gold chairs and were facing one another, she asked, “What has happened?”

Frederic looked cautiously around the room before he murmured, “Our parents have been arrested and are awaiting trial.”

“Arrested?  Awaiting trial?  Surely you jest!”

“I do not,” he said.  “Indeed, it is true.  There is even talk of hanging them both for their part in the rebellion of 1848.”

“No!  It cannot be true!  The new government would never go so far as to arrest a nobleman and his wife.”

Frederic reached out and took Czanna’s hand into his own as though to comfort her.  But, such consolation lasted only a moment before his gaze bore into her own, and he said, “I fear it is no lie.  Now, listen to me carefully.  Someone—and we don’t know who—has reported our parents as part of the noblemen who helped Lajos Kossuth when he was in power in 1848.  As you know, his followers, save some who escaped, have either been imprisoned or executed.”

“No!”  Czanna let out a scream.

“Sh-h-h.  Do not cry out again, Czanna.  Now, listen and hear me well.  I am working with others who supported the Kossuth revolution; we are planning to make an appeal to Emperor Franz Joseph to free our parents.  I believe we will be successful.  But, you must remain strong as I tell you this next part: our entire family, including you and me as well as our little brother and sister, could be hung along with our parents if the appeal does not go well.”

Czanna gasped.  “But, I thought the new government had proclaimed they would support the idea of freedom for all, including all those who supported the 1848 Revolution.”

“Although there is talk of this, it is not true,” replied Fredric.  “Listen carefully.  I was able to speak briefly to our father today, and we both agree you and the rest of the family must flee.  It is for your own safety and the preservation of our family.  You must leave here this very night, and you must take our younger brother and sister with you.”

“Tonight?  Leave Hungary?  Leave the only home I’ve ever known?”

“I fear you must,” answered Frederic.  “Neither I nor our father can envision any other way to keep you and the rest of our family safe.”

Czanna looked away, forcing herself to become calm.  Then, after a moment, she said softly, “Yes, of course.  I am sorry I am so shocked; it is only that—” Her voice broke.  Then, looking up at her brother, she asked, “And you?  You have mentioned our brother and sister, but what about you?  You are coming with us, are you not?”

Frederic glanced away from her, his composure hard, although a muscle twitched in his cheek.  At last, he said, “No.  I am staying here.  I fear I cannot escape with you.  There are people I am working with who also wish to free our parents, and if I am not here to help these people, our parents’ freedom is not assured.”

“Oh, I see.  You are to stay here and help our parents.  And, of course there is no one else who will work harder than you to free them.  Still, if I must leave tonight, how will I ever be able to go away unseen?  Where would I go?”

“To America.  You must go to America.”

“To America?  But, America is so far away, and I hear it is a savage land.”

“Yes, I have been given rumors to believe the same as you,” said Frederic.  “But, there are reasons why America is the only country where our father and I believe you and the rest of the family will be safe.  It is there where you will be able to hide yourself from any Hungarian spies.  I have already spoken to our father’s manservant, Henrik, and I have asked him to accompany you.  He, however, refused the coin I offered him to do it.  He said it is his duty to ensure you and our brother and sister are kept as safe as possible.  He will guide you and shelter you as much as he is able.  He also understands why I must stay here to try to free our father and our mother, and he agrees with our father and me.  He has also given me his solemn word of honor to help you and our brother and sister to reach the American frontier with as little incident as possible.  Henrik will, of course, be bringing his own daughter with him.”

“Yes, of course.  Since she is his only family, she, too, must embark upon this journey.  Although she is barely ten years and four, I believe I shall welcome her assistance very much, especially since our younger sister is still a babe.”

“Yes.  Now, listen well to me.  You and the others are to sail north on the Danube this very night, and once you are out of the city of Pest, you and the others will go by coach to the coast, there to set sail for America.  I have purchased the boarding tickets for you all on a ship sailing from the port there tomorrow.  The name of the ship is on the tickets.  I will now give them to you and not to Henrik.  Count them and ensure there are five.”  Frederic handed her the tickets.

“Yes.  There are five tickets here.”

“Good.  Now, come, I have a private box in this study where I have stored the papers you will need as well as enough gold and silver so you will be able to buy lodging and food.  Keep the money on your person at all times.  I have two strong, but light bags to serve this purpose.  Do not store the coin in a trunk or any other convenience that is separate from you, nor are you to tell anyone, including Henrik, about the treasure you will be carrying on your person.  I’m sorry.  I know this is a heavy burden I am forced to place upon you, but there is no other manner in which to ensure you will be safe from harm.  Never show what I am to give to you to another soul either—not to our younger brother and certainly not to Henrik.  I will give Henrik other monies so he will not suspect that you also carry a treasure with you.  Please bend close for what I am about to show you and tell you.  These very walls may well have ears.  I fear I am placing you now as the head of our family from this day forward.  This family now extends to both Henrik and his daughter.”

“But…about the gold and silver.  I understand what you say about showing it to no one, including Henrik.  However, Henrik has been with our family for his entire life, and he wouldn’t—”

“I trust no one,” interrupted Frederic.  “Someone reported our parents for their part in the revolution—someone who knows us and has access to our parents’ secret papers.  Because this spy is within our midst, we are all in danger.  Do you understand?  We could all be tried for treason and hung.”

“But, Frederic, since our youngest sister, Béla, is only three years old, surely it is possible for her to stay here.  After all, it will be a hard journey for her.  Is there no other way?”

“There is none.  It will be worse for her if she stays, and this is another reason why I spoke long and ardently to Henrik about the need to bring his daughter with him.  I could not have rightly placed you into the position as the head of our family if you also had to act as a nanny for Béla.  Henrik’s daughter, Lilike, will care for Béla, which will leave you free to think clearly about what is best for our family.  Do you have any other questions?”

“I…I—”

“You all must flee…and tonight.  I do not know how much time we have until the palace guards come here to arrest our entire family.”

“I…I can hardly believe it.”

“I know.”

Glancing up at Frederic’s solemn face, Czanna was startled to realize this might be the last time she would ever see her brother, unless…  “Brother, if we are all in danger, then you must come with us.  I beg you.  Come with us.”

“I cannot,” Frederic replied.  “You know I cannot.  I have it in my power to free our parents and clear our family’s name.  This means more to me than my life.  Please understand, I must stay here and fight.  But, you must go.  You must find safety in America.  Lose yourself in the wild western frontier of America.  Do not use our family name.  Trust no one.  And, under no circumstances are you to return to Hungary.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Frederic confirmed, shaking his head.  “I believe it must be so.  There seems to be no empathy in the new government towards those who strove to free the people.  But, do not fear.  There is yet a ray of light in all of this.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember our cousin Alfred?”

Czanna nodded.  “I do.  He is about ten years older than you, I think.”

“Yes, he is older than I.  Do you remember him being a part of the Revolution, also?”

“Yes, I do,” said Czanna.  “But, he became a Hungarian forty-eighter and escaped into the American West, didn’t he?  I assume he must have changed his name in order to evade capture.”

“Yes, he did,” replied Frederic.  “But, he and I have been writing to one another these last seven years.  I wish I knew where he is located exactly in the American West.  I know only the following: he uses the English name of Old Tom Johnson and he lives within the Glacier Mountains located in the far corner of the Northwest Indian Country.  I have written to him, informing him of what is happening here to our entire family, and I have told him to watch for you and our siblings in the next few years.  But, since I do not know exactly where he makes his home in the Glacier Mountains, I am trusting you—not Henrik— to hire a guide to take you to him.”

“But, why not Henrik?”

“Let me say this one more time: someone who knows us and who has access to our papers betrayed us.  I like Henrik, same as you.  But, I trust no one except you to take our family to safety.”

Czanna nodded.

“Now, I have also written a letter that I will give to you to take to our cousin, whom you may call Tom Johnson.  I am putting this letter into your care to present to him once you locate him; plus, there is one more of our family’s possessions which is, perhaps, the most important of all I have to give you.  Our father begs you to find our cousin and give him this.”  Frederic reached inside his coat to draw out an object carefully wrapped in the finest linen.  Looking around the room, inspecting its nooks and crannies in detail, he then gave the package his attention and unwrapped the linen.

Czanna gasped.  “Why, it’s our…our—”

“Coat of arms, our Crest.  It is worth a treasure, not only because it is made of bronze, gold and silver, but because it is also a seal we must preserve.  Our father instructed me to caution you to hide it well, and, to this end, I have personally created a trap in your trunk where you may hide our seal.  When you at last find our cousin, you are to give our family’s crest to him.  It is important.  The seal must be preserved, even if our country falls.  It will also identify you to our cousin.  Our father wishes you to give our cousin the seal because, if my plea to Emperor Franz Joseph fails, our cousin would then be the oldest living member of our family.  As you well know, it is always the eldest of our family who must bear the responsibility for preserving it.  Seek out our cousin.  He will help you.  Give him my letter and the seal and ask him to help you all to disappear into the rugged country of the American West.  I fear there may well be Hungarian agents who will try to follow you.  Do you understand?”

“I do.  But, Frederic.  How can I go there and leave you here knowing…knowing…?”

Frederic again shook his head.  “I cannot go with you.  Please understand this: my duty is here.  When you arrive in America, send me word of your arrival but say nothing more.  I believe you will need to hire a coach to take you to a settlement called St. Louis.  From there, you can book passage aboard a steamboat that will take you into the depths of the American West.  Our cousin has written to me telling me he has become a fur trapper.  I admit I think it is a terrible occupation, but it is, perhaps, the only livelihood for a man in the ruggedness of America.  At least where he is now, he is not in the line of fire.  Join him there, and once you are safe from harm, use the money I have given you to buy property, if you can.  I will do my best to free our parents.  I cannot emphasize this enough: do not let anyone know you carry with you a treasure in gold and silver, nor tell another living soul about the family crest; you are not even to say a word about this to our siblings, and certainly not to Henrik.”

“But, I must have some money I can easily show and use to buy necessities.  If I am to hire a man to take us to our cousin, I must—”

“Of course you will have to carry some coin with you.  But, what I am giving you to carry on your person is more than mere coin.”

“Oh, yes, of course.  Yes.  I understand now.”

“Hear me well, and do not forget what I am about to tell you: until this is over, you can trust no one who is Hungarian, except, of course, our cousin.  Someone has betrayed us.  Now, remember these words I say to you: do not ever come back to Hungary for any reason.”

“But, Frederic, not ever?”

“Not ever.  Swear this to me now: you are never to return to Hungary.”

“But, what if—?”

“Do you swear?”

Gazing up into her brother’s solemn expression, Czanna nodded and whispered, “I swear.”

“Good.  As you know, our family is one of the noble families who sided with the Revolution.  I do not have the knowledge of what the future holds here.  But, whatever our future is to be, I and our father and mother wish you and our siblings to survive.  Make a new life for yourself, as well as for our brother and sister.  Do you understand?”
Czanna nodded.

“Good.  Now, grab your cloak, gather our siblings together and go!  Outside of what I’ve given you, take nothing else with you.”

“But, my clothes, my shoes, my—”

“They are all Hungarian made.  You must disappear.  You and our brother and sister are to have nothing with you or on you that can identity you as to whom you really are.  Now, Henrik waits outside with a coach.”

Czanna’s brother, who was probably her best friend in all the world as well as being her brother, took both her hands into his own.  Breathing in deeply, he said, “Farewell, Czanna.  I will miss you and the others.  I am sorry to burden you with so much responsibility.  If there were a way to do it, I would take the cares of the world away from you, our sister and our brother.  I, alone, would carry this weight if I could.  But, there is not a manner by which to do it.  I must free our parents.  I will write.  Look for my letters, but do not write back to me except to inform me of your journey and that you have reached America.  Know this: I will never ask where you are and you are never to tell me.  Nor will I ever ask you to go against your word and return to Hungary.  Again, I am sorry I have to burden you with this, but upon your shoulders rests the future life of our family.”

Czanna nodded, looking down and hiding, if only for a moment, the shock as well as the tears in her eyes.  It was at some length when, at last, clearing her throat, she said, “I know and I understand the burden I carry.  Farewell, Frederic.  We will see one another again.  I am certain of it.”

“Let us hope your words will hold true.”

Standing up, Frederic reached out a hand to pull Czanna to her feet.  He hugged her, and, as was tradition, he kissed her gently on each side of her face.  Then, Czanna stood to her tiptoes and, reaching up, returned the endearment.

Shaking a little, Czanna stepped back and, turning away, hurried from the study, rushing toward her younger siblings’ rooms.

“Farewell,” she called as she reached the door.

“Farewell, Czanna,” answered Frederic.  “Godspeed.”

Hail Stone (Crow) and his wife, Alvina.  Although Hail Stone was from the Crow tribe, I simply l love this photo — it looks like they might have met in one of the Wild West Shows.  It is a picture showing the love between two people regardless of their cultures.

Anyway, that’s it for today.  Do leave a comment.  And have a happy day and rest of the week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can pick up your copy of She Brings Beauty To Me here:

https://tinyurl.com/She-Brings-Beauty-To-Me

 

 

The Last Week Hustle and a Give-Away

by

Howdy!

Gosh, doesn’t the title of this blog sound like a dance?  In a way, last week was a bit of a “dance,” and hustle.  And, although it’s a brand new week, the hustle continues.

So, let me begin with the news.  First, I have three (3) books on sale right now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHE STEALS MY BREATH is the first book in the Medicine Man series and is on sale for $.99.

WHITE EAGLE’S TOUCH is the second book in the Blackfoot Warrior series and is on sale for $2.99.

BRAUT DES EISERNEN WOLF’S — but wait isn’t this last book in German?  Yes, indeed, it is.  In English it is IRON WOLF’S BRIDE and it is on sale for $.99.

So this deserves a little bit of a story.

Slowly, I’m getting the Wild West series translated into German for the German market.  The Eagle and the Flame was the first book I put up on the German market.  But Iron Wolf’s Bride required a little more effort.  The original cover did not have the layered file included and so my cover artist and I decided to do a new cover similar to the old one.  And, this was the result.  I liked it a lot and so we now have this cover for Iron Wolf’s Bride in e-book format (paperbacks take several extra steps).

And so, in celebration, I’m putting this e-book on sale at $.99.

Then, in other news about chances to win give-aways, Authors XP is putting on a sale of Romantic suspense books.  And, I am participating in this event.  This book, IRON WOLF’S BRIDE is not only a Historical Romance/Native American, set in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, but it is also filled with suspense.  The event starts today, Tuesday and goes on until next Monday.  And here is the link to the event:  https://AuthorsXP.com/giveaway

And, just another bit of news, while my latest effort, SHE BRING BEAUTY TO ME, is in editing, I’m writing another Young Adult Story under the pen name of Genny Cothern.  This will be a little longer than my first Young Adult Story and its working title (what I call the book when I’m writing it), is:  THE ADVENTURE OF GOOD EAGLE AND MISS STARLING.  It is written a little differently than my Romantic Historical Books in that it is written in the first person (I saw the bird) as opposed to the 3rd person (She saw the bird.)  I think this is, perhaps, natural since these stories of true adventures I’m reading for research are all written in the 1st person.

And so, I thought I’d give you a little taste of this new Young Adult Story.  Remember, it is as yet unedited.

 

CHAPTER ONE

The Village of Saint Louis

1844

 

 

As I waited to start my passage aboard the steamboat, NIMROD, tears streamed down my face, but I did nothing to curtail them.  I knew no one here in this far west fur-trading town of St. Louis, so what did it matter if I cried?

In my gloved hand was my paid ticket from Uncle Jed, who had also financed the various and different carriages that had brought me here.  Indeed, due to bad weather, I had only arrived here on the previous evening, leaving little time for me to enjoy the town—if there were any joy to be found in this village…or anywhere.

It has been said this town is where the West begins.  But, I little cared.  Having spent little more than a few unrestful hours in a boarding house last night, I cared not for this village nor for the Western Indian Country.  After all, I was journeying into the West not by choice, but rather by need.

My name is Starling Nelson.  I was so named after the bird of English fame, the European Starling.  When I was younger, my mother had told me the story of my grandfather gifting her a pair of the birds after he had returned from one of his visits to England.  My mother, who had been quite young at the time, had fallen in love with the Starlings’ songs consisting of whistles and she had especially loved the warbling of the male bird.  And so, when I had come around— I being my parent’s only child—I had inherited the name.

However, this was all in my past.  Only the present seemed to matter now, and, unfortunately, my present no longer included my mother and father.  Sadly, my parents had perished months ago on what should have been a short day cruise on the Hudson River.  I was supposed to have gone with them, but due to a bad head cold, I had stayed behind, bed ridden.

An unexpected storm had gathered suddenly, and a bolt of lightning had struck the boat, sinking it and leaving no survivors.  I had then been left alone in a world I was ill-equipped to survive in.

Because my mother possessed no living relatives—at least none we had ever spoken about—my father’s only brother had come to my rescue, offering his home to me, he who made his living in the dreaded Indian Country.  Not that I required his guardianship.  I was a girl of sixteen, after all.  I could take care of myself, or so I had told myself, until the bills had come due, and then, having no means to pay them, I had realized how vulnerable I really was.

Imagine my surprise when I had learned my parent’s legacy to me was not to receive any of their riches, but rather, it was to instead pay my parent’s debts; added to this was the legal threat of sending me to an orphanage.  This discovery, as well as the intimidation, had plummeted me into the depths of despair and, for a time, had caused me such misery, I thought I might never recover.  Luckily, Uncle Jed —a man I had never met—had somehow discovered my plight and had paid my parent’s debts.

I had rejoiced for a time, but then had come the reality of my situation, as hunger had caused me to seek employment in an environment unfriendly to a working youngster.  Imagine my surprise when I had received a letter from Uncle Jed, inviting me to come west to live with his family.  It had said:

 

“My dearest niece,

 

“Please allow me to tell you how deeply saddened I am at the loss or your mother and my dearly beloved brother.  I have now paid your parent’s creditors and hope I have taken this burden from your shoulders.

“It has come to my notice that the League of Presbyterian Ministers recommends sending you to an orphanage where you should stay until you reach your majority.  This has been done without consulting me.  I, therefore, would like to offer you an alternate plan by opening my home to you, humble though my abode might be.

“While it is true that the West might be considered to be a rugged country, it has many advantages, which I think you would soon realize if you decide to become a part of my family here.

“My wife, who is of the Blackfeet, Pikuni, tribe, bids me to encourage you to make the journey here.  She wishes me to tell you she will be the best mother she can be to you, and she adds that all she has will be yours.

“It is my hope you will look with a kind eye upon the arrangements I have made for your journey into what is known as “Indian Country.”  The tickets I am sending you in this letter do not expire.  Should you decide to come here, you have only to book the journey, which, as you can see, awaits you.

“Know that, upon receipt of your return letter and your wish to join me here, I will make arrangements for you to be met in St. Louis by the Captain of the steamboat, NIMROD, who will be tasked with the duty to bring you safely to the post that I command  via Fort Union, a few thousand miles from Fort Benton, where I reside.  Or, if my duties do not demand my attention, I should like to meet you at Fort Union, myself.

“You may, however, wish to remain where you are, and, if this is what you think would be best, I will honor your decision.

“I look forward to your letter informing me of your wishes.”

 

Yours truly,

Your father’s brother, Uncle Jed

 

Though the mere thought of traveling into Indian Country had frightened me, to be sure, I had yet answered my uncle’s letter at once, deciding a trip into the west was preferable to remaining where I was, where the threat of being constrained into an orphanage until I reached the age of twenty and one, loomed darkly upon my future.  Besides, the environment I now found myself to be in reminded me constantly of my parents and my losing them and their love.  At present, grief ruled my life.

And so, I had accepted my uncle’s offer to relocate myself and all my worldly possessions to his home…a home he had described to me in another letter as a fur-trading post, located deeply in the heart of Indian country.

“Are ye ready to board the steamship, Lassie?  Ye be Miss Starling Nelson, are ye not?”

I gazed up at the tall, heavy-set man, who, dressed in a sailor’s coarse, dark- blue coat and a Captain’s hat, startled me.  Yet, I found myself saying, as if by rote, “I suppose I am.”

“Good, Lassie.  Good.  As soon as I seen ye, I know’d ye to be Jed Nelson’s niece.  Who else but his niece would have the golden color of hair, so like yer Uncle Jed’s?”

I simply stared at the clean-shaven man, not knowing how to respond.  But, I was saved the effort because the man was continuing to talk.

“Well, now I be knowin’ yer uncle.  A fine man.  Aye, a fine man he be.  But, let me introduce me self to ye, Lassie.  Here be a letter from yer Uncle Jed.  It be a letter of introduction, I bein’ the capt’n of this steamboat.  Name’s Edward…Edward MacKenzie, though I be no relation to Kenneth McKensie, the Bourgeois of Fort Union.  But, because I be the best steamboat capt’n on the Missouri, yer uncle trusted no one but me to get ye safely to him.  So now, if’n ye be ready to board, I’ll be seein’ ye to yer quarters.  Yer uncle’s to meet ye at Fort Union, but ye probably know this already and I be a tellin’ ye nothin’ new.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, trying my best to smile at the man.  “I did know it.  Uncle Jed sent me a letter and in it he told me a great deal about you, Mr. MacKenzie.  I am glad to meet you.  I am glad, indeed.”  

“Pleasure be all mine.  Now, this way, Lassie.  Mind where ye step now.  Would na want ye to be thrown into the Great Mississippi down thar.”  He pointed to the river with a motion of his head.

“Thank you.  I will, indeed, step carefully,” I replied.

****

Coming Soon, SHE BRINGS BEAUTY TO ME. Here is the cover of the new story, book number four (4) in the Medicine Man series.

I’ll be giving away an e-book of  the English version of IRON WOLF’S BRIDE.

Sure hope you enjoyed the blog today.  Be sure to leave a post.  I very much look forward to reading your comments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If the Boot Fits

by

It’s official! If the Boot Fits has released. YeeHaw! I’m so excited to share book two in my Texas Ever After series with you. I thought you might enjoy a sneak peek into the story itself, so without further ado, may I present Asher and Samantha . . .

I’m sorry, Pop. I’ve tried everything I can think of to fix this, even a few things I’m ashamed of, but there’s no putting it right. The house is gone.

Nothing to do now but make the new place as habitable as possible before he left. Which was why he reined Bruno to a halt in front of Patterson’s Hardware. If he was going to weatherproof Mama Bess’s roof, he was going to need some supplies.

A bell rang as he entered the shop. The clerk behind the counter glanced up from the customer he was assisting and smiled.

“Afternoon, sir.”

Asher fingered the recently reshaped brim of his hat. “Afternoon.”

“Farm implements are along the back wall. Ironware to your right. Carpentry tools in the center.  Cutlery and kitchenware to the left.”

“Much obliged.” Asher strode toward the center aisle in search of nails. He’d probably have to special order the shingles he’d need, but—

A pile of wiggling pink froth stole every thought from his head as he rounded the corner and stepped into the aisle.

It was a woman—obviously—but what she was doing, he had no earthly idea. Hunkered down in front of a display of chisels, she seemed to be trying to peer beneath the shelving to view something in the adjacent aisle. Asher eased backward, took a couple steps to his left, and peered down the next walkway. A pair of men stood about even with her position, discussing the merits of whitewash versus paint.

Not exactly the type of conversation to entice an eavesdropper.

Inching back to his right, he found the female where he’d left her, only this time she held two gloved hands along the bottom of the shelf, as if measuring the length of something, though the spread of her hands failed to match any of the items housed on the nearby shelf.

Deciding it might be best simply to pretend he didn’t see her, Asher turned his gaze away and stepped into the aisle. Unfortunately, his elbow clipped a dangling hand saw and sent it flying off its nail and onto the floor. The woman gasped and lurched to her feet, spinning toward Asher as he gave chase to the runaway saw.

Her cheeks flushed pinker than her dress and her eyes darted to him then past him as if checking to see if anyone else had witnessed her odd behavior.

Instinct prompted Asher to look over his shoulder. See if anyone was there. But he didn’t. He couldn’t seem to look away from her.

Blue. Her eyes. Summer sky blue. Rimmed with thick lashes. And returning their attention to him.

Feeling his own cheeks heat, Asher held up his hands in apology. “Sorry to startle you. I . . . ah . . . accidentally knocked it with my arm.” He took a few steps forward and bent to retrieve the errant saw.

“That’s all right.” She offered a shaky smile and ran a hand down the front of her dress.

Asher straightened, the saw clutched awkwardly in front of him. Say something, you dolt!

“I’ll just . . . ah . . . put this back.”

Ugh. Something intelligent, Ash.

He sidled down to the front of the aisle where the other saws hung, keeping her in his peripheral vision. His mind spun but failed to grip anything worth saying out loud.

“Are you . . . interested in carpentry?”

Her downturned gaze jerked up to meet his, a hint of guilt playing about her face. Had she been staring at his feet? Why would a woman wearing a dress that probably cost more than his saddle be interested in a worn-out pair of boots? Wait . . . had that been what she was looking at while she’d been hunched over? The boots worn by the men on the next aisle over?

“Carpentry?” Tiny lines etched her forehead. “Not particularly. Why?”

He grinned, feeling more himself now that he had the upper hand in the conversation. He tipped his head toward the shelf beside her. “You seemed quite enthralled by those chisels. I thought you might be a hobbyist.”

“Ah, yes. Well. My father has a birthday coming up.” She fiddled with a bit of lace at her cuff.

“And he’s a carpenter?” He really shouldn’t derive so much pleasure from teasing her, but it felt good to let go of his worries for a few minutes and flirt with a pretty girl.

“A rancher, actually, but tools are always handy to have around, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.” He grinned. “A ranch can never have too many chisels.”

Her lips twitched and amusement gleamed in her vibrant eyes, but she managed to keep it contained. Unfortunate, since he found himself intensely curious about what her laugh would sound like once unleashed.

“Everything all right back here?” The clerk who had greeted Asher from behind the front counter hurried into the aisle, his smile strained. “I heard a crash.” He scanned the shelves, no doubt looking for evidence of an avalanche.

“Sorry,” Asher said. “That was my fault. I clipped a saw with my elbow. The stray’s been wrangled and is back with the herd now, though, so no harm done.” He nodded to where the saw hung, nice and tidy.

The clerk, however, didn’t bother looking at the cutting-edge display. His attention remained riveted elsewhere. Not that Asher blamed him. What fella wanted to look at saws when there was a blonde beauty a few feet away?

“Miss Dearing? Are you sure there’s nothing I can assist you with? I’d be happy to lend you my expertise.”

Asher’s ears rang. Miss Dearing? As in Samantha Dearing? The pampered princess he’d flattened when jumping out of her daddy’s study window? The one whose little brother nearly drowned trying to chase him down?

Had she recognized him? Slowly, he turned his face away, thankful for the distraction of the overzealous clerk. He hadn’t recognized her, but then he’d not seen her up close that night. But what if she had seen him? In the study, or after he’d leapt from the window.

Breathe, Ash. It had been dark. A boy had been drowning. She’d had other concerns on her mind. Plus, no recognition had registered in her eyes while they’d been talking. He would’ve seen it with as hard as he’d been staring at those blue beauties.

But what if it wasn’t his face that gave him away. His gut tightened as her interest in men’s boots suddenly made a dreadful sort of sense. If she’d found the boot he’d dropped . . .

Asher yanked his fingers away from the hand saw he’d been pretending to inspect. He needed to get out of here. Now.

Lengthening his stride, he left the carpentry aisle behind and made a beeline for the door. Shingles and nails would have to wait. He couldn’t chance being recognized by the one woman in town who could send him to prison.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt.

You can grab a copy of If the Boot Fits from your favorite retailer.

Amazon | Baker Book House | Christianbook

Tomorrow’s a Big Day!

by

I have two big book events happening tomorrow.

1. My Christmas short story My True Love Gave to Me is releasing. Yippee!

I had so much fun giving the classic Twelve Days of Christmas carol a romantic Texas twist. I thought you might enjoy a sneak peek at how our hero gives these gifts his own cowboy spin.

Her mother must have seen them coming, for she threw open the back door and waved them in. “Come in and warm yourself by the stove,” she urged. As Anna slipped past, her mother touched her arm and stalled her progress. “A gift arrived for you.” Her eyes danced, setting off a similar gyration in Anna’s belly. “Your father’s grumbling about it in the front room.”

If he was grumbling, it had to be from Simeon. Without pausing to remove her coat, Anna abandoned the kitchen and hurried to the front room. She found her father bent at the waist, staring at what looked to be a cactus in a pot on the slender table behind the sofa.

“Daddy?”

He straightened and turned abruptly. “I tell you, Anna. That boy has lost his mind. Who in the world sends a cactus as a courting gift? And there’s a bullet hanging from the center of the thing. What is that supposed to signify? Is it some kind of threat?”

“Of course it’s not a threat.” Though it was rather odd. What are you up to, Simeon? Anna approached the table and found an envelope, thankfully still unopened, with her name written across the front in an unrefined scrawl she recognized instantly.

“Tell me, Herald,” her father said, alerting Anna to her growing audience, “is that not the most ridiculous bouquet you’ve ever seen? If you can even call it a bouquet. Next to your roses, it looks like a bulbous weed.”

“It is rather . . . unconventional.”

Herald’s voice faded from Anna’s awareness as she opened Simeon’s note. There were only two lines, but they made her heart pound.

To Anna, on the first day of Christmas.

From Your True Love

On the first day of Christmas. Why did that phrase sound so familiar? Then it came to her. A children’s counting song. On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

She turned back to the gift and looked at it with new eyes. Saw the reddish-purple bulb of prickly fruit. Looked closer at the bullet tied on with a string. It wasn’t ammunition for a pistol. The casing was longer. Like that for a rifle.

“Daddy?” she asked without turning.

He broke off his conversation. “Yes?”

She drew her finger along the line of the metal cylinder. “What do you call a bullet that goes into a rifle?”

He scratched at his jaw. “A cartridge. But what does that have to do with—” He broke off when she started laughing.

She spun around to face him, a smile beaming across her face as she held Simeon’s note to her breast. “Oh, Daddy. Don’t you see? It’s a gift of true love.”

He scowled. “Are you feeling all right, Anna?”

“I feel marvelous!” She waltzed up to him and handed over the note for him to inspect.

He read the note, grumbled, then passed it to Herald. She should be angry that he would share her personal correspondence without her permission, but she was too delighted with Simeon’s cleverness to take him to task.

“Why are you so happy?” her father demanded. “This has to be the least romantic gift of all time. It’s a half-dead cactus covered with barbs and a random bullet.”

“No, Daddy,” she said, her heart awash with love. “It’s a cartridge in a prickly pear tree.”

Today is the last day to pre-order. If you do, the story will show up on your Kindle bright and early tomorrow morning. Just like Christmas!

The story is only 99¢ to purchase, though it will be available in KU as well.

Pre-Order Here

Anna King has pledged her heart to Simeon Shepherd, but her father refuses to grant her hand to the young farmer. Simeon determines to be patient and earn David King’s respect over time with hard work and evidence of his ability to provide. However, when a wealthy new suitor arrives in Bethlehem, Texas to woo Anna with her father’s support, patience is no longer an option. Simeon has twelve days before Christmas to best his rival and prove once and for all that he is Anna’s true love.

2. In Her Sights has been selected for a Kindle Daily Deal – also tomorrow.

For one day only, you can purchase Tessa and Jackson’s story for only $1.49. WooHoo!

If you haven’t read the Pink Pistol Sisterhood Series yet, now’s the time to start with Book 1 going on sale tomorrow. Find it here on Amazon.

What is something fun or special coming up on the calendar in your life this week?