New Release and a Giveaway!

Western Spring Weddings

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Spring is wedding season!

In the 1800s, I have a feeling spring weddings had something to do with the availability of beautiful flowers, and the (ahem) need for a wedding after the long, cold winter. Tomorrow is release day for Western Spring Weddings of which my story, His Springtime Bride , is roped with two other novellas, each involving a spring wedding.  I am offering a print copy (or Kindle copy) to one lucky person leaving a comment today. (See guidelines on upper right of this page!) Here’s a little bit about the plot and an excerpt that occurs near the beginning of the story.

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Released from prison, half-breed Gabe Coulter must work for his enemy to earn back the deed to his own ranch.
But when his boss’s daughter, Riley Rawlins, returns home with a rebellious son after years away in the east, nothing will stop him from discovering the truth.

Riley no longer trust the man she once loved so completely.
Years of old hurts and his violent past make it impossible to forgive and allow him back into her life or that of her son.

But one thing Gabe has is pure cowboy grit. Will it be enough to make Riley see that she and her son should a part of his future?

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Excerpt ~ His Springtime Bride

 

Western Spring Weddings“Name is Coulter. I want to talk to Frank Rawlins.”

“Johnson. Foreman.” His gaze narrowed and he scratched his scruffy dirt-colored beard. “Coulter? From around these parts?”

Gabe lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

“Most Injuns never make it to prison if they kill a white man. And if they do—they don’t make it out.”

Gabe stiffened. He’d heard the same thing before from guards at the prison—their tone much uglier. It wasn’t the only time his father’s blood had saved him, but it was the most important time. In a world where both whites and Indians looked upon him with suspicion, he had quickly learned to trust no one. He had fought it when he was young, trying to fit in, but it did no good. Now all he wanted was to be left in peace. Obviously, Johnson had heard of him and didn’t care about that.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m half-white. Tell him I’m here,” Gabe said. By his tone, he made it clear he wasn’t asking.

The foreman eyed him for a moment longer and then clomped up the steps and, after a sharp rap on the door, let himself into the house.

Three minutes later, Johnson ushered him inside.

Gabe had been in the house a few times when he was young. His folks had been invited to a ten-year wedding anniversary party for Rawlins and his wife. That’s when he’d first met Riley. He had been quiet and she had been all gangly tomboy arms and legs and talked up a storm. He remembered swinging on the rope swing that hung from the old oak in the side yard with her and a few other children. He had never seen blond hair before that, and each time he tried to touch her braids, she would whip them around just out of his reach to tease him. She laughed and the other kids laughed right along with her, which made him mad—mostly at his own awkwardness.

Had Riley ever come back to visit her father? Once she had loved the ranch and vowed never to leave, despite her mother’s schemes to position her for a rich husband back east. By now she probably had that rich husband along with a baby or two. With effort, he pushed his memories of Riley to the back of his mind. Thoughts of her would only complicate the confrontation ahead with Rawlins.

He squared his shoulders and followed Johnson. The foreman stopped in the hallway before the study and indicated Gabe was to enter. “No such thing as a half Injun,” he said, his eyes cold as Gabe passed by. “Bad blood taints the good.”

Rawlins sat behind a massive cherrywood desk, his expression inscrutable. He had to be in his early fifties now, with silver-streaked hair and black hawkish brows over striking blue eyes. A small amount of paunch around his middle where there hadn’t been any before spoke to his more sedentary days of late. As Gabe stepped farther into the study, Rawlins walked slowly around from behind his desk and hiked one hip onto the corner to sit. “So you are out.”Spring horses

Gabe wasn’t here for small talk. “I was down to my land today. Saw the sign. Looked new.”

Rawlins nodded…watching him carefully. “The sheriff in Nuevo mentioned your release. I thought you might head this way. I also thought you should be clear about the situation here.”

“You mean the part about not owning my own land?”

In the doorway, Johnson straightened, alert to the underlying tension in the room. He rested his hand lightly on his gun handle.

“Taxes hadn’t been paid in three years,” Rawlins said. “I paid them.”

“Stole the place, you mean. And you know why I couldn’t get them paid.”

He nodded again. “Your incarceration was mentioned in the newspaper. I had my eye on that property a long time, Coulter. Has a nice little stream running through it down from the mountain this time of year.”

“I noticed your cattle were enjoying it.”

“Hasn’t been grazed in years. There is a nice thick carpet.”

Of course it hadn’t been grazed. After his father’s death by the cougar, Gabe’s mother had had to slowly sell off the stock to make ends meet. Few would do business with a Kumeyaay woman and her kid. He blew out a breath, unused to having to ask for anything and not liking that he was going to now. He’d best keep calm. “What will it take to get it back?”

Rawlins tilted his head. “Who says I’m interested in selling?”

“I do.”

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His Springtime Bride/Western Spring Weddings Anthology © by Kathryn Albright
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.

For a different excerpt from this novella, visit my website!

My favorite part of weddings is hearing the heart-felt vows. Now it’s your turn!

What is your favorite part of a wedding?

Comment for a chance to win a copy of Western Spring Weddings!

Kathryn’s Winner!

Thank you to all who stopped by and commented yesterday!

I really enjoyed reading of the road trips you’ve taken and the ones you hope to take!

The winner of my giveaway is none other than

Quilt Lady!

Please contact me at  kathryn@kathrynalbright.com with your mail address and I will send you a (free) copy of

Familiar Stranger in Clear Springs!

Jodi Thomas Rides Under a RUSTLER’S MOON

Jodi Thomas Author PicI come from a long line of farmers and ranchers who settled in Texas and Oklahoma after the Civil War. Since all my ancestors had big families not much was passed down to me.

But I have one metal music box that plays ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ I’ve always loved it. When I’m holding it, I can almost feel my grandmother’s hands around mine when she used to show it to me.

Jodi's Music Box

In researching my keepsake I discovered that the song was part of an 1850 Wagner opera called Lohengrin. The irony is that in the opera, the ‘Bridal Chorus’ is sung as the bride and groom enter the bridal chamber and the wedding party prepareRustlers them for their first night together.

I don’t really care about the opera, I just love holding it because I feel like I’m somehow touching base with those who came before. Maybe it’s because they didn’t have much that the few things that made it down to great-granddaughters like me are treasured so dearly. [The cookie “rustler” I caught (right) is another generation learning to love their own past.]

In the neRansom Canyonw series I’m working on, RANSOM CANYON, I keep turning back to family heirlooms and memories. The second story in this new series, RUSTLER’S MOON, centers around a necklace, handed down for generations.

This story is about learning to trust in love and I hope you’ll fall in love with the people in Crossroads, Texas, like I have.

One old man in this story touched my heart. He’s long retired and comes to Ransom Canyon every summer to search for a memory from his childhood. You’re going to love Carter.

Thank you all for joining me in this journey into modern day ranching and living in a small town. As we move though the books I hope you’ll begin to think of it as your hometown, as I do.

“On a dirt road marked by haunting secrets, three strangers caught at life’s crossroads must decide what to sacrifice to protect their own agendas…and what they are each willing to risk for love.”

Step into RUSTLERS MOON, you will enjoy the adventureRustler's Moon

Jodi is giving away one print copy of RUSTLER’S MOON today to one of you who leaves a comment. So get to it!

Welcome to the Junction, Crystal L. Barnes!

Catherine forced her fingers on her right hand to loosen a fraction and slid them to the rope below her left. Her WLOD meme 2boot skidded on the rock face as she inched it lower to a small ledge. Her heart left residence in her chest to pound in her throat. She could do this. Just don’t look down.

Hand over hand, inch by inch, she descended the gorge’s wall, barely daring to breathe until her feet touched level ground. When they did, she gripped her shaky knees and stared up at the distance she’d covered. Straightening, she grinned. It was oddly liberating facing a fear and overcoming it. Maybe she might yet face the fears she had about Sam and come out the victor.

Shoving the thought aside for later perusal, Catherine kept to the ravine wall and started toward the outlaw camp. First she had to get her husband out alive, then she’d figure out how to live with him.
—from Win, Love, or Draw by Crystal L Barnes

Howdy y’all! Crystal L Barnes here. I’m so happy to be a guest today on Petticoats & Pistols and share some of the tidbits behind my first full-length, inspirational, western romance Win, Love, or Draw. Namely, the tidbits behind this scene. Have I scaled a rock wall? Yes, actually. A short one—but no rope. And I was going up, not down. Talk about heart in your throat. Oh but that’s not the big story behind this scene. No, that’s tied up in that feeling of victory at overcoming a fear. When did I experience this, you may ask? Why in a shoot out of course. (This is Petticoats & Pistols after all. J)

Now I hear you doubters out there. A shoot out? No way. Well, I didn’t say my opponent had a gun. No, he had scales and a forked tongue. Yep, you guessed it—a snake. To be specific, a chicken snake. And he’d slithered his two-to-three-foot-long self into the wrong place. My hen house. And in the very last hen nest, farthest from the door, no less. Which meant I’d have to go into the small coop to get rid of it. Oh joy of joys.

chickencoop(I know many of y’all are thinking the only good snake is a dead snake, but as long as they aren’t poisonous or endangering my critters (or me), I’m fine with them.)

I couldn’t have the chicken snake stealing my eggs or snacking on my chickens so I had no choice but to do something before he got away. Now I’ve killed a number of copperheads, but there’s something about going into a confined area with one of those forked-tongue creatures. (Probably because there’s not much running room if something goes awry. J ) The copperheads I decapitated with a shovel outside. I wasn’t about to take the risk of missing or even getting that close to a chicken snake. But shooting the creature had its own drawbacks. My brain kept shouting what if the bullet ricochets? What if the bullet comes back at me? What if I miss and the snake gets mad and attacks me? Oh, and did I mention I was on the phone with my mom this whole time? What did she do? She laughed. Thanks, Mom. Then she told me to just shoot it already. Why? ’Cause she’s done this countless times.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a country girl through and through. Grew up on a ranch and have done my fair share of processing wild game and such, but it was my parents who did the dirty work of killing snakes. Now it was my turn. Yippee.

After countless false starts and many more squeals when that snake moved (and more laughter from my mom), I finally hung up the phone, prayed, gathered my courage, prayed, reminded myself of Scriptures, prayed. Did I mention I prayed? And pulled the trigger. With ears ringing, I skedaddled from that hen house, leaving the snake with a hole the size of Dallas through its middle to slither off and die on its own. It didn’t make it very far. I had to scoop it out of the doorway later.

Nevertheless, the triumph I felt at overcoming my fear was quite a heady feeling. Makes you feel like you can conquer anything. Makes you wonder why you were ever scared in the first place. I know I couldn’t have done it without God’s help. He truly can and will help you do anything through His strength.

Have you ever felt that conquering thrill? Have you had to face a fear? How did you overcome?

Today I’m offering a copy of Win, Love, or Draw (winner’s choice of paperback or kindle) to one commenter who’s brave enough to share one of their fears or their experience of overcoming.

Happy Trails!

 

CLBarnes_avatarAn award-winning author, Crystal L Barnes is a born-n-raised Texan and a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). She has a degree in Computing Science because she loves putting things into their proper place, and she enjoys writing because she gets to share her love of old-fashioned things and the Lord. You can connect with Crystal at her website, on her blog, her Amazon Author page, GoodreadsPinterestGoogle+, or on her Facebook author page. Want to be notified of her latest releases and other fun tidbits? Subscribe to her newsletter.

 

 

 

 

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Win, Love, or Draw Blurb:

Catherine McGarrett is a strong woman. Life in Texas demands such. For five years, she has built a growing horse ranch while praying for the return of the one man who stole her heart and shattered it in a million pieces when he left.

Now he’s back.

Samuel McGarrett rides into Cater Springs, Texas toting two six-shooters and too many scars. The trouble and pain from the past erupts around the couple. And not just in their marriage.

Can Sam win Catherine’s trust? Will their love survive? Or will his final draw be his last?

Birthday Wishes!

Happy Birthday

Today is my birthday!

And yes I am grateful to be here celebrating it with my filly sisters and everyone at Wildflower Junction!

Although there are people who consider a birthday so close to Christmas to be unfortunate, I have NEVER felt that way.  When I was young, my folks always made a point to have a gift tucked away for me with birthday wrapping and it was fun to  know that I had my special day “off” from school. For me, having a December birthday every year has been like having a continual party from Christmas Eve until New Year’s Day ~ simply wonderful!

My dad was in the Navy when I was born and he has always said I was a bargain — costing him all of $1.25 at the Naval Hospital. From there he goes on to tell a few tales of when I was very young. (I’ll spare you the details!) I never tire of hearing him retell those stories because they shine like a new penny every time he brings them out and remembers them.

I remember one very special birthday as a child.Breyer Horses

When I was ten, I lived in San Diego, California in the city-proper. I was a horse-lover without a horse. I played with Breyer horses and other plastic horses more than with Barbies and other dolls. I knew we couldn’t have large animals in the city, but I’d found a place that gave riding lessons not too far away. I was absolutely thrilled when my parents made that my present even though it stretched the family budget quite a bit.

I still lovePeace horses — and of course cowboys and all things western, but nowadays, my wishes are much more precious and intangible. I wish for my three sons to find purpose and passion in life and find joy. I wish to have loved ones near. And I wish for peace and good health for my family, friends and readers.

Familiar Stranger in Clear Springs

What special birthday memory do you have?

 

Comment for a chance to win my newest (just now!) release ~ Familiar Stranger in Clear Springs.

I would love to send a free copy to one of you who comments today.
(P&P Sweepstake rules are posted here.)

And to all my filly sisters and readers ~

Here’s to a joyful New Year!

                                                                                                    Kathryn        

 

 

 

Traditions & Mail Order Brides

 

When people talk about opposites attracting—I am living proof.

Kathryn's Wedding Day
Me and my DH Married on my grandparent’s farm

Although I wasn’t a mail-order bride ~
I was a big city girl from the Pacific coast marrying a small-town boy from the Midwest. I locked every door and checked them twice. He never locked a thing. I would do anything to avoid long lines and crowds, but he used them as a chance to be friendly with the people standing in line with him.

One of the real eye-openers about his different set of traditions was our first Thanksgiving as newlyweds. We traveled “Over the river and through the woods…” to spend the holiday with his family. May I just say that that entire Thanksgiving Day simply felt “wrong.”

His family didn’t watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. His family didn’t start a Christmas puzzle. And they didn’t sit down at a beautifully set table together while “father” carved the turkey, the children got to sneak a sip of wine, and conversation flowed as the meal and my mother’s cooking was appreciated. (I’m beginning to sound like a Hallmark card, but it was really a great up-bringing.)

Instead his family filled their plates full buffet-style and then sat down in the family room and watched the Thanksgiving football game while they ate. Talk was about the game. Then later that evening, after pumpkin pie, they played cards.

The food was the same—traditional turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberries, and pie. Really, the differences were minor, but for my first holiday away from home, they seemed huge—and of course I was homesick.Sarah Plain and Tall

It made me think that holidays must have been hard for those mail-order brides back in the old west. Even if the new ways were better than what they’d left, they’d still be uncomfortable with the unfamiliar. One of my favorite mail-order bride stories is the Newbery Medal winner ~ Sarah, Plain and Tall  by Patricia MacLachlan.

Traditions – rituals that are done intentionally on a daily, weekly, monthly, or annually schedule–have the ability to strengthen family ties, provide comfort and security and a sense of identity. Traditions are a constant in a world that is continually changing, and a world that is going too fast. Like the comfort of knowing the leaves change color in autumn and snow flies in winter, traditions gird and strengthen roots in a family.

When my own children came along, my family traditions and those of my husband’s melded and became one.  It has been a pleasure to realize that along the way we created a few family traditions that “stuck.”

  1. Family game night
  2. Christmas Eve Candlelight Service
  3. Christmas puzzle
  4. Birthday measuring against the doorpost
  5. A special holiday table setting and meal and conversation—and THEN football.

I’ve never written a mail-order bride story, but I can see how the situation would ripen the plot for misunderstandings and emotions. Even today, I have several friends who have met their spouses over the internet. They are the mail-order brides of today and I can only imagine some of their first holidays together bumping heads regarding traditions.

As this holiday season approaches I am thankful for many things. One of them is you–my readers. It is my hope that you have a few traditions that enrich your life and bring you happy memories. If you don’t—please consider starting one.

The Gunslinger and the HeiressI would love to hear of any family traditions you’d like to share…

Comment for a chance to win my book,
The Gunslinger and the Heiress
packaged with Bronwyn Scott’s ~ Playing the Rakes Game.

(Neither one of which are Mail Order Bride Stories!)

Petticoats and Pistols Sweepstake rules apply.

Parrots, Birdcages and a Giveaway

WG Logo 2015-04

Hello everyone.  Winnie Griggs here.  I’m very excited about the recent release of The Road Home, the new novella I wrote as part of the Journeys of the Heart collection.  This story is one I’ve been wanting to write for some time, but it’s a little bit of a departure for me.  For one thing Anisha, my heroine, has a mother who was born in India and a father who is an American merchant sea captain.

For another, I pictured her with a pet that was a bit out of the ordinary, something to match her own exotic appearance.  And since her father was a sea captain who sailed all over the world, I wasn’t limited to animals in her native country. After trying out several animals, I finally settled on a parrot.  But this in turn spurred me to additional research.  I never realized there were so many species!  From small to quite large, from colorful to drab-in fact there are more than 350 species that belong to the order parrots are members of.  It was quite fun to browse through all the pictures I could find of these colorful, exotic birds.

But I had to narrow my search so I came up with a list of criteria for what characteristics I wanted her feathered companion to have.  He needed to be long-lived, intelligent, loyal, imposing and able to talk (not all parrots can).  I finally settle on the African Grey parrot.  African grey’s, while not the most colorful of the parrot family, have a lot to recommend them.  They are long-lived, in fact have been known to live for upwards of 80 years.  But more importantly, they are considered the most intelligent of the parrot family and can develop quite an extensive vocabulary.  They have been described as having  “… the intelligence level of up to a five-year old with the temperament of a two-year old…”  Bingo – this was exactly what I was looking for.  And thus Anisha’s companion, Sundar (which means ‘beautiful’ in Hindi) came to life for me.

Parrot

 

My research into parrots, however, led me down a fun rabbit trail of additional research.  During all of my digging into keeping pet parrots, I found some really gorgeous Victorian birdcages. Some of them were unbelievably extravagant. You can get a peak at some of them using this link.

 

 

So what about you?  Do you have first hand experience with parrots?  If not, how do you feel about them as potential pets – can you picture yourself with one?  Leave a comment today and be entered into the drawing for a copy of the novella collection that contains my story, The Road Home.

 

 

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White Spacer

 Here’s a short excerpt from the opening of the story:

Where had they gotten off to?

Wyatt Murdoch’s irritation was turning into worry. This was the third time his two young charges had tried to slip away from him on their journey from Indiana to Texas, and they’d only made it as far as Arkansas.  Thank goodness they’d arrive at their destination tomorrow.  Of course, that assumed he found them before the train left.  This was the longest they’d managed to keep out of his sight and the train would be resuming its journey in less than twenty minutes.

Why did they keep running away when they had no place to go? And how could a ten year old girl and eight year old boy have so completely disappeared when he’d only turned his back for a moment?

He supposed he couldn’t really blame them for wanting to get outside and enjoy the fresh air and warm spring sunshine, especially when they’d been cooped up on the train for four very long days.  But they could have just asked him.

He scanned the horizon and caught sight of the circus tents off in the distance. Of course. That would have drawn Hallie and Jonah like ants to a picnic.

He started off in that direction at a fast walk. If they missed the train because of this nonsense…

He was some distance from the circus tents when he caught sight of his charges. But they weren’t alone. A woman, small in stature but big in presence, walked between them holding onto a hand of each. There was something faintly exotic-looking about her—it had something to do with the warm golden color of her skin and the shape of her eyes.

There was also the fact that she wore some kind of padded leather affair on her left shoulder, and regally perched upon that shoulder was what looked like a large gray parrot.

Someone associated with the circus, no doubt. Was she an actual performer or just an assistant?

More importantly, had she caught the children trying to sneak into the big top or one of the side shows? Or worse yet, had they gotten too close to her parrot and hurt it in some way?

He hoped she was looking for their caretaker—namely him—and not the sheriff. But from the frown on her face and stiff determination of her posture, she was obviously unhappy about something.

He quickened his pace. “You two have a lot to answer for,” he said as soon as he reached them.

But it was the woman who responded. “You are the person responsible for these children?”

He noticed that she had a faint accent of some sort, but he couldn’t quite place it. “I am. And I apologize for whatever they—”

She cut through his apology. “It appears you are not doing a very good job of watching out for them.”

Her accusation and tone got his back up. “Keeping up with them is not the easiest job in the world.”

“So watching over them is your job? Are you their nanny?”

“Are you their nanny?” The parrot squawked. “Are you their nanny?”

There were muffled giggles from the children at the bird’s echoed words, which Wyatt chose to ignore.

He tugged on his cuff, trying to maintain his dignity. “No, I am not their nanny,” he said. “I am their escort. Now if you will just hand them over, we have a train to catch.”

If anything, the woman clasped their hands tighter. “They tell me they ran away because you have not been treating them well.”

Wyatt glanced from Hallie to Jonah, making his displeasure clear. Another loud squawk from the bird did nothing to smooth his temper. “What you should know about these two runaways is that they are not only slippery, but they also lie.”

Her frown only deepened. “Those are harsh words to use about children, sir.”

How in the world had he gotten into this ridiculous discussion with a circus performer? Before he could respond, she turned to the children.

Her expression was that of a schoolmarm handing a failing grade to a favorite student. “Have you been telling me untruths?”

Both children shook their heads vigorously.

“He doesn’t let us do anything fun and he’s always fussing,” Hallie said.

“Anyone can tell he doesn’t even like us,” Jonah added.

The woman once again turned an accusing look his way.

But it was his turn to cut her off before she could speak. “That is neither here nor there, madam. It is my job to escort these children safely into the keeping of their great-uncle, and I intend to do just that. Now, I don’t have time to stand here and argue with you. We need to be on that train when it pulls out from the station.” He held out his left hand, keeping his right carefully down at his side. “Come along you two.”

The children looked up to their circus-performer friend, obviously ready to ask for her support. Had they formed such a quick bond because of the exciting nature of her life? Or was it just that they thought anyone better than he?

To his surprise, the stranger gave them a shake of her head. “Go on with your escort as he asks. It’s his job to keep you safe. And you should apologize for causing him worry, even if you don’t think he likes you. He may not be the most pleasant of people, but he is trying to look out for you, and you should respect him for that, not make his task more difficult.” She shot him a quick glance, then turned back to the children. “Besides, I’m sure he’s not really a bad man at heart.”

Was that condescension in her tone? His irritation changed to shock when the children came to him without further argument.

“We’re sorry, Mr. Murdoch,” Hallie said. “Aren’t we, Jonah?”

Jonah nodded.

Wyatt was dumbfounded. How had she gotten these two mischief makers to obey her without argument?divider002a

 

 

 

JOTH_mediumJourneys Of The Heart

From merry old England to the wilds of Texas, take a delightful journey into adventure and romance in these novellas written by authors Camille Elliot, Winnie Griggs and Erica Vetsch.  In these three stories you’ll travel alongside a feisty spinster, an English lord, a trail boss, a determined widow, and an unusual train companion—a parrot.

The Road Home by Winnie Griggs

Wyatt Murdoch feels his life is over—his career certainly is.  In fact, he’s agreed to escort two orphans halfway across the country mainly because he needs a distraction.  But when the task proves more than he bargained for, he seeks help from the exotic beauty with the talkative parrot who befriended the children when they slipped away from him.

Anisha Hayes, who’s hiding wounds of her own, has left her uncomfortable home to seek adventure.  However, something about this unorthodox trio touches her heart, so when Wyatt asks for her help she agrees to put her plans on hold to accompany them. After all, it’s only a temporary detour.

But when they reach their destination, both Wyatt and Anisha find it’s not as easy to part ways as they’d planned…