Gun For Hire Series

LOOKING FOR THE GOOD THINGS–AND A GIVEAWAY! by Cheryl Pierson

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When my husband Gary and I were first married, he would laughingly call me “Pollyanna” –the girl who always saw the good in every situation. Through the years, I have to admit there have been times when that quality has failed me, when things were so bad I didn’t know what we were going to do. I know we’ve all had “those” times. But in general, I’m one of those people who does try to see the good in things.

 

I think I “learned” to do that from my mom. I thought a lot about this over the last few weeks—fall makes me remember and miss my parents more than any other time of the year. One night Gary and I were talking about the things our parents had taught us, and I told him one thing my mom taught me was to look on the bright side of things.

 

I imagine she had to do a lot of that, being the oldest of eleven children in the Dustbowl days of Oklahoma—which was also during The Great Depression. Growing up, I remember how she’d comment on things that meant nothing to me…at the time.

 

“Oh, Cheryl, I saw the first robin today! That means spring is on the way,” she’d say, with a smile.

 

And? my young brain would ask. So, spring is on the way.

When spring came along, maybe she’d comment on how green the trees were, or how blue the sky was today—just look at those clouds!

Now that I’m older, I realize why these things were important and such a cause of joy to her.

Growing up dirt poor in a small house that had no insulation and very little heat, I’m sure that seeing the first robin was important because it meant those cold days and nights would soon be at an end and warm weather was soon to blow in.

 

The green of the trees meant there was enough rain to allow things to grow—something I know, as the oldest in such a large family, she was acutely aware of  since my grandfather was a hardscrabble farmer and had so many mouths to feed.

What a relief, especially here in Oklahoma, that there had been plentiful rain and things were growing well!

This was a picture I took of my hibiscus tree the kids gave me for Mother’s Day one year and its beautiful red blooms! I have to bring it in during the winters here in Oklahoma, but I’m thankful I have a place to put it and keep it hale and hearty until we can move it back outside again when spring–and that first robin–come along! The second picture is one of my two furbabies, Max and Sammy, watching a squirrel they’re thinking of chasing as he jumps from the crape myrtle to the fence. So glad to have these boys in my life!

 

The blue of the sky—can you imagine growing up in a time when you could look outside and see billowing gales of dust—and nothing else? Animals had to be put up in the barn, families had to be inside, and still, the houses were so poorly constructed there would be layers of dust on the windowsills once the dust storm had passed. So a blue sky was important—no dust, and those beautiful white clouds must have looked heavenly in her eyes.

 

Mama always found happiness in the small things—small in MY eyes.  A good meal she’d cooked for her family, getting the laundry done and put away for the week, finding a good sale on orange juice—yes, those were the days when people would look through the Sunday or Wednesday paper at the grocery store ads, make several stops to find the things at each store that were on sale, and several trips home to put the perishables away—a very different time.

It was not just the fact of the accomplishment itself, but what it meant to her from the things that had happened in her past. A good meal meant there was enough food to go around for everyone, served on a matching set of dishes. No one went to bed hungry. Laundry being done meant that everyone had clothes for a solid week—not one or two good dresses that had to be laundered over and over. Making the rounds of the different grocery stores and finding good “deals” meant she was able to provide some extras with what Dad made in the oilfield. She knew how hard he worked. She never took anything for granted.

So though I didn’t have the past that Mama had—mine was much easier in comparison—I think I learned that attitude through watching her. I’m sure there were times she wanted to just go into the bathroom and have a good cry, but instead, she looked for the good, and found it.

This is a picture I took of a gorgeous Oklahoma sunset a couple of years ago. I just loved the beautiful sky, and the way the light hits the water of the pool.

 

I think of Mama every time I see that first robin. What a gift that has been to me, in so many ways, including my writing. Part of writing a good story is thinking about our characters and WHY they act, and react, like they do. This realization about seeing the good in things has been a whole new area of enlightenment for me. I understand so many of my characters even more than I did when I wrote them—their reasoning, and their motivations.

 

Do you have an aspect to your personality that you inherited or learned from one of your parents or another family member? What is it? Do you think that these behavior patterns can be multi-generational? My mind is whirling! What do you think? Be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of one of my books–your choice! 

One of my fave pics of Mama and Daddy–taken April 9, 1991 on their 47th wedding anniversary.

 

LANDON–GUN FOR HIRE (#9) by Cheryl Pierson

Here’s one of my favorite examples of how finding the good in a terrible situation, for both Land and Lissie, came to a wonderful decision for them. This is from my book, LANDON, from the GUN FOR HIRE series. Land has fallen in love with Lissie, and she with him, though they have yet to admit it to one another. Things seem impossible from his point of view since the relationship between Lissie’s father’s late wife, Little Dove, is so entangled in a way Land doesn’t believe Lissie knows about. He must take a chance on ruining their budding relationship by telling her a huge part of his reasoning for being on this wagon train was because he had come to avenge his sister–Little Dove–by killing Lissie’s father. 

Take a look:

 

He gave her a piercing look, then led her to a large boulder where she sat down. She watched him with worry in her expression. There was really no way he could say what had to be said but to blurt out the blunt truth. He took Lissie’s hand again, then released it, half-turning away from her.

“Little Dove was my sister. Zach is my nephew.”

Silence washed over them. A soft spring breeze rustled the treetops. From far away, a coyote yipped, and another one answered.

“I know.”

****

Land turned quickly to face her, surprise in his handsome features for a moment before he veiled his expression.

“You kn—how?”

“Just from what Zach has told me. And—from your reaction when we talked about how she came to be married to my father.”

Land shook his head and gave a short laugh. “I guess I made no secret of my opinions that day.”

Lissie stood, looping an arm around his waist. “Zach—told me about your ‘friend’ who died having her baby.”

Land shook his head but remained silent.

“I wanted you to know…Little Dove and I were close. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

“She wasn’t much older than you,” he muttered, looking out into the night woods.

“She was very dear to me.” Tears welled up in Lissie’s eyes as the memories flooded over her. “When she told me she was going to have a baby, we began to plan all sorts of grand things for him—or her.” She smiled. “We both hoped for a boy, but my father seemed to have no interest. So I became her confidant. We were more like sisters. But…I loved her so much.”

Land pulled Lissie close to him, the warmth of his body flooding through her, the support of his arms filling her with strength, as well.

“I loved her, too,” he muttered roughly. “I’m glad you had each other. When I learned what my father had done—I was sick with anger. I’d been gone—a long time. When I came home, my father…well, it took his life, in the end. The truth of what he’d done hit him in the face once he’d sobered up. But by then, it was too late. Little Dove had been lost. And it had been three years. The alcohol had numbed his brain for so long…”

His voice trailed away, and Lissie looked up into his face. She took his hand, careful of the bruised and battered knuckles.

“What happened to him, Land?” She carefully examined his torn flesh. He glanced at her, just as she brought his knuckles to her lips and kissed them.

“He died. Sank into the bottle and never came out.” He turned toward her. “Little Dove was always his favorite,” he said with a faint smile. “She was so full of life and the love of adventure—and he had a real soft spot for her. When he realized she was gone forever, he gave up.

“I told him I was going after her. I would find her—but she’d been gone so long by the then that he didn’t have faith I could find her and bring her home.”

“What about your mother?”

“My mother…she was stronger than he was. She had the others—my brothers and other sister—to live for. But losing Little Dove took a hard toll on her, too, along with my father’s love for drink—and then, his death.”

They were silent a moment, then Land said, “I want to do this right between us, Alissa.”

Her heart jumped at his use of her proper name, the formal seriousness of his tone. She nodded, not looking at him. Sometimes, the hardest things were easier to say in the darkness, without looking—

It was the way her mother had spoken to Lissie of her own impending death…the only way Lissie—or her genteel mother, she suspected—could have borne to have that conversation at all.

But sometimes, speaking of the good things that were dear to a person’s heart were best spoken of like this, as well.

“We will do it right, Land,” she promised him. And, before she thought, she raised her eyes to his in the dim, silver-filtered moonlight and the soft, far-away gold cast by the lantern.

It seemed the silver and gold came together around them to enfold them in a magical velvet enclosure of their own, where there was nothing but the two of them—no fears, no worries, and no sorrows.

But Lissie knew it wasn’t truly that way—it was only an illusion. She already understood the trials and hardships they would face—through her father had sloughed off much of what others taunted him with, not only having married a “squaw” but also that she was so much younger.

“It won’t be easy.” Land’s voice was harsh.

“You won’t find a quitter in me.” Lissie raised her chin. “I’ve heard and seen everything, I think. When my father was alive, he thought nothing of parading Little Dove and me through town…letting people believe we were—for sale.” She gave a short laugh.

“I can’t tell you how many times we were ‘saved’ at the last second, complete with witnesses—so that dear Papa could be paid off and not press charges.”

Land swore. “Did he ever let it go…too far?”

Lissie smiled faintly. “No. But Little Dove and I were so scared—”

“He was a monster!” Land turned away from her furiously.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But for now, it’s important that Zach think well of him. As well as possible,” she amended quickly. “He and Papa were never close.”

Land took a deep breath. “For now,” he agreed. “But—what about you and me? Seeing the things you’ve seen, and knowing what you’ll experience—are you certain I’m what you want? That’s only a part of what I was talking about. You could go on alone and get your homestead set up on your claim. There’ll be plenty of men—”

“I only want one man—you.”

He watched her in silence.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” she whispered.

He took a step toward her, pulling her into his arms once more. “I don’t ever want you to regret marrying me.”

Tears blurred her vision, but she smiled as she lifted her head. “I don’t believe you’ve asked me—”

His lips came across hers, hot, demanding, the best proposal she could ever have hoped for.

 

CHERYL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE (CLICK HERE)

LOVE LETTERS AND MAIL-ORDER BRIDES–by CHERYL PIERSON

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Ah, those wonderful love letters! Don’t we love reading them? I must admit I have an affinity for love letters because of the insights they give us into the past, and the people who lived then.

Love letters are something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Probably because of the time of year–fall always makes me get nostalgic–but also because, as authors, we have to use letters and notes in our writing to “get the message” across that perhaps our characters might not be able to speak aloud.

 

My hubby is, like many men, not sentimental. He wouldn’t care if I never got him another Valentine’s Day or anniversary card, but they mean a lot to me—so we exchange them every year. I suspect that, through the years past right down to the present, most men didn’t and don’t make flowery love speeches from their hearts, or even write their innermost thoughts and feelings in cards and letters.

 

One of the most poignant love letters I know of is the famous letter written by Union Army Major Sullivan Ballou, just before the First Battle of Bull Run in 1861 where he died at the age of 32. Married only 6 years, he left behind two small sons and his wife, Sarah. The letter he wrote to Sarah days before he was killed is one that speaks poignantly of his guilt at having to choose between his duty to country and duty to family. Ken Burns used a shortened version of the letter in his series, The Civil War—and its contents are unforgettable, and so powerful it brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.

 

 

SULLIVAN BALLOU

In part, it reads:

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

I had to come up with a love letter, of sorts, for my 2017 novel, Sabrina, part of the 4-book set entitled MAIL-ORDER BRIDES FOR SALE: THE REMINGTON SISTERS. The Remington Sisters set is out of print now, but I’m working on getting SABRINA published as a stand-alone story! My letter was nothing to beautiful as this one penned by a soldier marching to his inevitable death, but a letter that had to convince my Sabrina to leave her wealthy lifestyle in Philadelphia and come West to Indian Territory!

Sabrina and her three older sisters (Lola, written by Celia Yeary; Belle, written by Jacquie Rogers; Lizzy, written by Livia J. Washburn; and Sabrina, my character) have to have mail-order arrangements in order to get out of the fix they’re in with a step-father who plans to sell them to the highest bidder—and they don’t have much time to do it. When Sabrina receives two proposals on the same day, she counts her lucky stars that she’s able to compare the two letters and has a choice between the two men who have written her—something many women of the day did not have.

She’s safely with the man she’s chosen now, Cameron Fraser, but she’s remembering the day she received the letters and why she made the decision she did. Take a look:

She’d answered ads from both Cameron Fraser and David Mason. Ironically, she’d received offers from both men on the same day. That had been a blessing, as she was able to compare their responses immediately.

Mr. Mason had written one page, in sprawling wide script.

“I have need of a wife to help me raise my four children I was left with after my sainted Amelia passed on last year. Your help will be appreciated. And I will do right by you. I hope you are a willing worker and a good cook. Can you make good cornbread? That is a must in our home…”

She’d opened Mr. Mason’s letter first, and tucked it back into the envelope quickly. She’d hoped she’d managed to keep the revulsion from her face when her oldest sister, Lola, had come hurrying through the door. Lola was five years older, and Sabrina could never manage to keep a secret from her, no matter how she tried.

“Well?” Lola had asked, pinning Sabrina with “the look” that Sabrina dreaded.

“I haven’t read them,” Sabrina said defiantly.

“Bree. You know we have to get out of here—the sooner the better. We don’t have much time.”

Here’s the difference, and why she chose Cam. He wanted her for more than making cornbread!

Lola had turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. That’s how Sabrina knew her oldest sister was angry—or hurt. Maybe both.

She’d sighed, and begun to open the letter from Mr. Cameron Fraser. And before she’d read the entire first page of his two-page missive, she knew her decision was made.

Dear Miss Remington,

Thank you for your very kind response to the ad I placed for a bride. I felt out of place to do such a thing, but your answer made me glad I did so, after all.

I know that Indian Territory may seem uncivilized and wild to a well-bred lady such as yourself, who has grown up in the cultured, genteel society of the East, but I assure you, I will do everything in my power to welcome you. In no time at all, I hope you’ll come to think of the Territory as your home.

My family owns a fairly large cattle ranch in Indian Territory. I wanted to assure you that, although the ranch itself is somewhat isolated, we are close enough to Briartown to travel there frequently for supplies.

You will be safe here, Miss Remington, and cherished. You will be well-treated, and I promise you here and now, I will never raise a hand to you.

If it is your will, and I hope it will be, I am willing to be a good and loving father to any children we may have—and a good and loving husband to you.

The sky here is the bluest you’ve ever seen. The water is the freshest and coldest. And I hope you will come to love the open range as much as we Frasers do.

I await your arrival in Ft. Smith. I will meet you there, where we’ll be legally married in a civil ceremony before we travel together to the ranch. Enclosed, you will find a financial draft for your passage and travel expenses.

Sincerely,

Cameron James Fraser

Something about the underlying feeling of the words Cam had written spoke to Sabrina. That he’d taken time to describe—even briefly—how he felt about his ranch made her know that he cared about her feelings—not just about what skills she might bring to the marriage table.

I see it, too, don’t you? He loves the land and his life, and wants her to share it with him. I wonder if women who were forced to take this route looked for these types of things—I know I would. And Sabrina is a bit of an adventurer, so going to Indian Territory would not hold her back. Adventure awaited!

MEANWHILE–here’s a song about this very topic, from one of my favorite musicians, MARK KNOPFLER. This is called Prairie Wedding. Fingers crossed the video will work–it’s an oldie but a goodie, and tells such a touching story in just a few verses.

Have you ever received a love letter that meant the world to you? I’ve had a few in my lifetime, and they’re tucked away in my desk and my heart! If you would like to share, we’d love to hear about your love letters!

I’m giving away a digital copy of my latest release for the GUN FOR HIRE series, LANDON, to one lucky commenter! Be sure to leave a comment today for a chance to win!

CHERYL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

 

CHERYL’S WINNERS!

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Hi everyone! I want to thank you ALL for stopping by today and making my release day for Landon so special. As always, here at Petticoats & Pistols, we appreciate your  reading and participation! 

I’ve got three winners today! If you will please contact me tomorrow at fabkat_edit@yahoo.com and provide your contact information, I would appreciate it. Some people use a different email for their Kindle reads than their regular email, so I always want to be sure I’m sending these prizes to the right place! 

My winners are:

CRYSTAL STEWART

BN100

KATE SPARKS

Congratulations, ladies! Let me hear from you ASAP so I can get these prizes headed your way, and thanks again for taking part in my release day today! 

 

LANDON–RELEASE DAY AND A GIVEAWAY! by Cheryl Pierson

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Hi everyone! I am so excited to announce RELEASE DAY for my book, LANDON, Book #9 in the GUN FOR HIRE series! This is a 10-book, multi-author series that is the brainchild of Charlene Raddon, and I’m so grateful to her for having this fabulous idea and putting this all together.

Each of these stories is a stand-alone tale, but they are all about a hero who lives by the gun. In the end, of course, he’s going to find happiness when he meets the woman he comes to love passionately and who loves him back just as fiercely.  Is there any better kind of story?

The books began making their debut in March, and we are about to complete the series with mine and Winnie Griggs’ stories, so they are all available but Winnie’s now, and hers will be out in 2 weeks! In the back of my book is a sneak peek at Winnie’s story (and it is a grabber!) Take a look at these beautiful covers Charlene created for us. Every one of them just makes me itch to pick it up and sit down in a comfortable chair and read all afternoon!

Covers of all books in Gun For Hire series

When I started thinking about the characters for this story, I knew I had to have a hero who was fueled by the need for justice of some kind, and he was determined to get it no matter what. Though I don’t go into his former life in the story, I mention that he was responsible for other men at one point.  Was he an outlaw? A fugitive? A lawman? A soldier? A prisoner? It’s not clear, and I liked it like that because it leaves a bit of mystery in his personality, and we don’t know whether he is on the side of the law or not. All we have to go on is the same thing Alissa can see in him when she first meets him and gets to know him through their time together.

Alissa has been in a tight spot for many years now. After her own mother dies, her father marries a much younger woman. When the woman dies almost as soon as their baby is born, it’s up to Alissa to step in and raise the boy, even though she’s only 14 at the time. With a no-good gambler for a father, her life has been misery to try to provide even  the most basic necessities for her younger brother. When her father is killed, she sees it as both a blessing and a curse. Set to travel to Indian Territory for the land rush of 1889, she has no choice but to continue with the plans her father has made and try to do it alone with a 5-year-old to care for.

Some of this series is available in paperback and in Kindle, and Landon is one that can be purchased in either format—and, hopefully, soon, in Audible, as well.

Here’s the blurb to whet your reading appetite! You can order LANDON now, as well as the rest of the series, all except Winnie’s – and of course, you can PRE-ORDER hers! (See links below!)

BLURB FOR LANDON

Alissa Devine finds herself in an unthinkable situation when her father is murdered, and she’s left to raise her young brother, Zach. With $22 to her name and her no-account gambler father’s burial to pay for, Lissie has no choice but to carry on with her father’s plan to take part in the Oklahoma land run. But single women aren’t allowed on the wagon train.

Landon Wildcat’s mission for months has been to find the man who abducted his younger sister. His search ends when crooked gambler Happy Devine gets what he deserves at the end of Land’s gun. But that act of vengeance leaves Lissie and Zach alone with no man to accompany them on the wagon train.

Wagon Master Bill Castle hires Land as his scout; a devil’s bargain—for both of them. Land offers Lissie his protection, suspecting the unscrupulous Mr. Castle has indecent intentions toward her.

When one of the settlers is murdered, Land takes the outlaws on in a desperate battle to protect the only witness, and nearly pays the ultimate price. Land’s life hangs in the balance, but the wagon train moves on, callously deserting him and the teen boy he saved, along with Lissie and Zach.

Through the hardship, Lissie and Land both realize how much they love one another, and what they have come so close to losing. Though danger lurks around every curve in the road, Lissie believes with all her heart there is a place for their small band of settlers in this untamed Territory. Now that love has finally come, will Fate allow a miracle for their happiness with this new beginning?

I’m giving away a KINDLE COPY of LANDON today!  Here’s my question for the day: Alissa had several years of hardship before finding happiness—what was the hardest time you ever went through and what brought you happiness at the end of it? Be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win!

AMAZON GUN FOR HIRE SERIES PAGE

ORDER LANDON HERE! 

I love series like this one. The heroes and heroines are all different because they come from varying backgrounds and places, but the heroes have something in common that holds the thread of the series together. 

CHERYL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

WHAT’S ON YOUR READING SHELF? PART 2 by Cheryl Pierson

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Hi everyone! Like most everyone I know, I’m always on the lookout for good reads (even thought I’ve got a huge stack of books on my nightstand, and I’m a VERY slow reader!) From time to time, I like to blog about some favorite books, and hopefully you all will comment about some of your faves, as well! This gives me more books to add to my to-be-read pile, and I love that because I learn, from you all, about books and authors I might not have known about otherwise. 

I have sure read some wonderful books lately, when I’ve been able to have time to read! I’ve been working on my own story, LANDON, for the GUN FOR HIRE series and so my reading time recently has been pretty limited. But–I always find time for a good story, even if it’s just a chapter when I sit down to eat lunch.

Right now, I’m reading Kristin Hannah’s wonderful story, THE WOMEN. This is about a young girl who impulsively joins the Army as a nurse during the Vietnam War. This book is especially poignant for me since I grew up during that era, and both my brothers-in-law were serving in the military over there.

I was too young to consider going, and I didn’t know any women who were there–this book makes the point that even people who SHOULD have known there were women serving as nursesin Vietnam did not know it, and Frankie, the heroine, had that–among other things–to contend with when she finally came home. No one believed she had been a combat nurse for the past two years.

 

Here’s the blurb, and it’s a wonderful story, told in a way that puts you right there with Frankie during everything. 

 

BUY ON AMAZON: https://tinyurl.com/4v3zm6w3

Women can be heroes. When twenty-year-old nursing student Frances “Frankie” McGrath hears these words, it is a revelation. Raised in the sun-drenched, idyllic world of Southern California and sheltered by her conservative parents, she has always prided herself on doing the right thing. But in 1965, the world is changing, and she suddenly dares to imagine a different future for herself. When her brother ships out to serve in Vietnam, she joins the Army Nurse Corps and follows his path.

As green and inexperienced as the men sent to Vietnam to fight, Frankie is over-whelmed by the chaos and destruction of war. Each day is a gamble of life and death, hope and betrayal; friendships run deep and can be shattered in an instant. In war, she meets?and becomes one of?the lucky, the brave, the broken, and the lost.

But war is just the beginning for Frankie and her veteran friends. The real battle lies in coming home to a changed and divided America, to angry protesters, and to a country that wants to forget Vietnam.

The Women is the story of one woman gone to war, but it shines a light on all women who put themselves in harm’s way and whose sacrifice and commitment to their country has too often been forgotten. A novel about deep friendships and bold patriotism, The Women is a richly drawn story with a memorable heroine whose idealism and courage under fire will come to define an era.

Another wonderful story I just finished reading is called THE KEEPER OF HAPPY ENDINGS by Barbara Davis. This is my first book by her that I’ve read, and it definitely will not be the last! What a wonderful storyteller she is, and I love her masterful weaving to all the storylines together to bring the novel to an end that I never would have suspected. 

Buy here on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/48ybtv3x

An enchanting novel about fate, second chances, and hope, lost and found, by the Amazon Charts bestselling author of The Last of the Moon Girls.

Soline Roussel is well schooled in the business of happy endings. For generations her family has kept an exclusive bridal salon in Paris, where magic is worked with needle and thread. It’s said that the bride who wears a Roussel gown is guaranteed a lifetime of joy. But devastating losses during World War II leave Soline’s world and heart in ruins and her faith in love shaken. She boxes up her memories, stowing them away, along with her broken dreams, determined to forget.

Decades later, while coping with her own tragic loss, aspiring gallery owner Rory Grant leases Soline’s old property and discovers a box containing letters and a vintage wedding dress, never worn. When Rory returns the mementos, an unlikely friendship develops, and eerie parallels in Rory’s and Soline’s lives begin to surface. It’s clear that they were destined to meet—and that Rory may hold the key to righting a forty-year wrong and opening the door to shared healing and, perhaps, a little magic.

I’ve discovered a wonderful author, thanks to fellow-filly Linda Broday, named Lisa Wingate. Lisa, I learned, is also a fellow Oklahoman. She writes some excellent stories, and every one of them has been intricately researched down to the finest detail. She also includes a very extensive bibliography of all her references, which I LOVE. But now, more about the stories I want to tell you about. I started with her second book, THE BOOK OF LOST FRIENDS. I can’t do justice to it, so I’ll include the blurbs for it and for the other one, BEFORE WE WERE YOURS. A lot of her books are based on actual historical events–things you might never have heard of. These were both new to me, and very interesting. She has a wonderful way of putting her characters in these stories and making them come alive. I keep a box of tissues handy, and my goodness, I NEEDED THEM! 

Here’s the blurb for THE BOOK OF LOST FRIENDS, and the buy link in case you want to read it. I highly recommend it.

Buy here at Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/yswmfshc

Bestselling author Lisa Wingate brings to life startling stories from actual “Lost Friends” advertisements that appeared in Southern newspapers after the Civil War, as newly freed slaves desperately searched for loved ones who had been sold away.

Louisiana, 1875: In the tumultuous era of Reconstruction, three young women set off as unwilling companions on a perilous quest: Hannie, a freed slave; Lavinia, the pampered heir to a now destitute plantation; and Juneau Jane, Lavinia’s Creole half sister. Each carries private wounds and powerful secrets as they head for Texas, following roads rife with vigilantes and soldiers still fighting a war lost a decade before. For Lavinia and Juneau Jane, the journey is one of stolen inheritance and financial desperation, but for Hannie, torn from her mother and siblings before slavery’s end, the pilgrimage west reignites an agonizing question: Could her long-lost family still be out there? Beyond the swamps lie the limitless frontiers of Texas and, improbably, hope.

Louisiana, 1987: For first-year teacher Benedetta Silva, a subsidized job at a poor rural school seems like the ticket to canceling her hefty student debt—until she lands in a tiny, out-of-step Mississippi River town. Augustine, Louisiana, is suspicious of new ideas and new people, and Benny can scarcely comprehend the lives of her poverty-stricken students. But amid the gnarled live oaks and run-down plantation homes lie the century-old history of three young women, a long-ago journey, and a hidden book that could change everything.

I mentioned Lisa Wingate had two books I wanted to tell you about–actually, there are a whole slew of them, but I want to talk about BEFORE WE WERE YOURS since it was the first book she wrote, if I’m not mistaken. Once I read THE BOOK OF LOST FRIENDS, I could not get enough of her stories, and BEFORE WE WERE  YOURS did not disappoint at all.

Here’s the blurb:

Buy here at Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y8me9dnc

Memphis, 1939. Twelve-year-old Rill Foss and her four younger siblings live a magical life aboard their family’s Mississippi River shantyboat. But when their father must rush their mother to the hospital one stormy night, Rill is left in charge—until strangers arrive in force. Wrenched from all that is familiar and thrown into a Tennessee Children’s Home Society orphanage, the Foss children are assured that they will soon be returned to their parents—but they quickly realize the dark truth. At the mercy of the facility’s cruel director, Rill fights to keep her sisters and brother together in a world of danger and uncertainty.

Aiken, South Carolina, present day. Born into wealth and privilege, Avery Stafford seems to have it all: a successful career as a federal prosecutor, a handsome fiancé, and a lavish wedding on the horizon. But when Avery returns home to help her father weather a health crisis, a chance encounter leaves her with uncomfortable questions and compels her to take a journey through her family’s long-hidden history, on a path that will ultimately lead either to devastation or to redemption.

Based on one of America’s most notorious real-life scandals—in which Georgia Tann, director of a Memphis-based adoption organization, kidnapped and sold poor children to wealthy families all over the country—Lisa Wingate’s riveting, wrenching, and ultimately uplifting tale reminds us how, even though the paths we take can lead to many places, the heart never forgets where we belong.

Last but not least, I’m reading my way through the GUN FOR HIRE series that I’m so fortunate to be a part of! Caroline Clemmons’ story, SHAD, just released, and you can buy the first seven stories in the series that are RELEASED now, as well as pre-order the other three that are yet to come! 

My story is called LANDON and I want to share the blurb and picture with you. 

PRE-ORDER ON AMAZON HERE: https://tinyurl.com/mt48unuz

GUN FOR HIRE SERIES PAGE ON AMAZON:  https://tinyurl.com/4vxwzkz7

Alissa Devine finds herself in an unthinkable situation when her father is murdered, and she’s left to raise her young brother, Zach. With $22 to her name and her no-account gambler father’s burial to pay for, Lissie has no choice but to carry on with her father’s plan to take part in the Oklahoma land run. But single women aren’t allowed on the wagon train.

Landon Wildcat’s mission for months has been to find the man who abducted his younger sister. His search ends when crooked gambler Happy Devine gets what he deserves at the end of Land’s gun. But that act of vengeance leaves Lissie and Zach alone with no man to accompany them on the wagon train.

Wagon Master Bill Castle hires Land as his scout; a devil’s bargain—for both of them. Land offers Lissie his protection, suspecting the unscrupulous Mr. Castle has indecent intentions toward her.

When one of the settlers is murdered, Land takes the outlaws on in a desperate battle to protect the only witness, and nearly pays the ultimate price. Land’s life hangs in the balance, but the wagon train moves on, callously deserting him and the teen boy he saved, along with Lissie and Zach.

Through the hardship, Lissie and Land both realize how much they love one another, and what they have come so close to losing. Though danger lurks around every curve in the road, Lissie believes with all her heart there is a place for their small band of settlers in this untamed Territory. Now that love has finally come, will Fate allow a miracle for their happiness with this new beginning?

What books have you read lately? Do tell! I love to add new books to my reading list!

 

 

CHERYL PIERSON BOOKS ON AMAZON: https://tinyurl.com/576zh766

A BEAUTIFUL REMEMBRANCE 100 YEARS LATER–by Cheryl Pierson

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Have you ever noticed how obituaries of yesteryear seem to always “say more” than many of the current ones do? (I don’t know—maybe it’s just me—I’m an obituary reader! Even those of people I don’t know.) I think one reason for this is, of course, now, everything is shortened and abbreviated to the point that sometimes the heartfelt meaning is lost. We have to make it “fit on the page” and not “run too long” in the fast pace of our modern world.

In 1921, William Allen White was the owner of the Emporia Gazette. So when his teenage daughter, Mary, died suddenly, he penned one of the best obituaries that probably ever has been written. Reading this final summation of her young life, I felt like I knew Mary without, of course, having ever met her. Her obituary became famous throughout the United States at the time it was published, 100 years ago this month.

In my upcoming novel, LANDON, a young woman about the same age as Mary dies. She happens to be a central player in the story, even though she dies before the story ever begins. Though there was no obituary written for Little Dove in my story–she was half Indian, the wife of a gambler–I wanted to show how loved she was by the other characters in the story who are left behind. In a twist of fate, she is the reason that Landon and Alissa fall in love–she’s Landon’s younger sister, and also the mother of Alissa’s young half-brother, Zach. Landon had planned to take the boy from Alissa however he could, but he never planned on falling in love with her. Alissa had no idea that Landon and Little Dove were connected in any way until much later, after she was as in love with him as he with her.

AMAZON PRE-ORDER LINK FOR LANDON: https://tinyurl.com/ap9f493n

This obituary written for Mary White is so precious and lovely, I found myself wishing that Little Dove had had some kind of remembrance like this as well, but I think for her, it would be enough to know how much her brother and her friend loved her, and kept her memory alive for her young son.

Mary’s obituary is long, compared to those of today. I hope you’ll read it all the way through and share this father’s love and truly,  the entire community’s love, for this young woman. She must have been such a  shining star, even at her young age.

 

Mary White obituary

by William Allen White

Emporia Gazette, May 17, 1921

 

The Associated Press reports carrying the news of Mary White’s death declared that it came as the result of a fall from a horse. How she would have hooted at that! She never fell from a horse in her life. Horses have fallen on her and with her—”I’m always trying to hold ’em in my lap,” she used to say. But she was proud of few things, and one of them was that she could ride anything that had four legs and hair. Her death resulted not from a fall but from a blow on the head which fractured her skull, and the blow came from the limb of an overhanging tree on the parking.

 

The last hour of her life was typical of its happiness. She came home from a day’s work at school, topped off by a hard grind with the copy on the High School Annual, and felt that a ride would refresh her. She climbed into her khakis, chattering to her mother about the work she was doing, and hurried to get her horse and be out on the dirt roads for the country air and the radiant green fields of spring. As she rode through the town on an easy gallop, she kept waving at passers-by. She knew everyone in town. For a decade the little figure in the long pigtail and the red hair ribbon has been familiar on the streets of Emporia, and she got in the way of speaking to those who nodded at her. She passed the Kerrs, walking the horse in front of the Normal Library, and waved at them; passed another friend a few hundred feet farther on, and waved at her.

 

The horse was walking, and as she turned into North Merchant Street she took off her cowboy hat, and the horse swung into a lope. She passed the Tripletts and waved her cowboy hat at them, still moving gayly north on Merchant Street. A Gazette carrier passed—a High School boy friend—and she waved at him, but with her bridle hand; the horse veered quickly, plunged into the parking where the low-hanging limb faced her and, while she still looked back waving, the blow came. But she did not fall from the horse; she slipped off, dazed a bit, staggered, and fell in a faint. She never quite recovered consciousness.

 

But she did not fall from the horse, neither was she riding fast. A year or so ago she used to go like the wind. But that habit was broken, and she used the horse to get into the open, to get fresh, hard exercise, and to work off a certain surplus energy that welled up in her and needed a physical outlet. The need has been in her heart for years. It was back of the impulse that kept the dauntless little brown-clad figure on the streets and country roads of the community and built into a strong, muscular body what had been a frail and sickly frame during the first years of her life. But the riding gave her more than a body. It released a gay and hardy soul. She was the happiest thing in the world. And she was happy because she was enlarging her horizon. She came to know all sorts and conditions of men; Charley O’Brien, the traffic cop, was one of her best friends. W. L. Holtz, the Latin teacher, was another. Tom O’Connor, farmer-politician, and the Rev. J. H. Rice, preacher and police judge, and Frank Beach, music master, were her special friends; and all the girls, black and white, above the track and below the track, in Pepville and Stringtown, were among her acquaintances. And she brought home riotous stories of her adventures. She loved to rollick; persiflage was her natural expression at home. Her humor was a continual bubble of joy. She seemed to think in hyperbole and metaphor. She was mischievous without malice, as full of faults as an old shoe. No angel was Mary White, but an easy girl to live with for she never nursed a grouch five minutes in her life.

 

With all her eagerness for the out-of-doors, she loved books. On her table when she left her room were a book by Conrad, one by Galsworthy, “Creative Chemistry” by E. E. Slosson, and a Kipling book. She read Mark Twain, Dickens, and Kipling before she was ten—all of their writings. Wells and Arnold Bennett particularly amused and diverted her. She was entered as a student in Wellesley for 1922; was assistant editor of the High School Annual this year, and in line for election to the editorship next year. She was a member of the executive committee of the High School Y.W.C.A.

 

Within the last two years she had begun to be moved by an ambition to draw. She began as most children do by scribbling in her school books, funny pictures. She bought cartoon magazines and took a course—rather casually, naturally, for she was, after all, a child with no strong purposes—and this year she tasted the first fruits of success by having her pictures accepted by the High School Annual. But the thrill of delight she got when Mr. Ecord, of the Normal Annual, asked her to do the cartooning for that book this spring, was too beautiful for words. She fell to her work with all her enthusiastic heart. Her drawings were accepted, and her pride–always repressed by a lively sense of the ridiculous figure she was cutting–was a really gorgeous thing to see. No successful artist every drank a deeper draft of satisfaction than she took from the little fame her work was getting among her schoolfellows. In her glory, she almost forgot her horse—but never her car.

 

For she used the car as a jitney bus. It was her social life. She never had a “party” in all her nearly seventeen years—wouldn’t have one; but she never drove a block in her life that she didn’t begin to fill the car with pick-ups! Everybody rode with Mary White—white and black, old and young, rich and poor, men and women. She like nothing better than to fill the car with long- legged High School boys and an occasional girl, and parade the town. She never had a “date,” nor went to a dance, except once with her brother Bill, and the “boy proposition” didn’t interest her—yet. But young people—great spring-breaking, varnish-cracking, fender-bending, door-sagging carloads of “kids”—gave her great pleasure. Her zests were keen. But the most fun she ever had in her life was acting as chairman of the committee that got up the big turkey dinner for the poor folks at the county home; scores of pies, gallons of slaw, jam, cakes, preserves, oranges, and a wilderness of turkey were loaded into the car and taken to the county home. And, being of a practical turn of mind, she risked her own Christmas dinner to see that the poor folks actually got it all. Not that she was a cynic; she just disliked to tempt folks. While there, she found a blind colored uncle, very old, who could do nothing but make rag rugs, and she rustled up from her school friends rags enough to keep him busy for a season. The last engagement she tried to make was to take the guests at the county home out for a car ride. And the last endeavor of her life was to try to get a rest room for colored girls in the High School. She found one girl reading in the toilet, because there was no better place for a colored girl to loaf, and it inflamed her sense of injustice and she became a nagging harpy to those who she thought could remedy the evil. The poor she always had with her and was glad of it. She hungered and thirsted for righteousness; and was the most impious creature in the world. She joined the church without consulting her parents, not particularly for her soul’s good. She never had a thrill of piety in her life, and would have hooted at a “testimony.” But even as a little child, she felt the church was an agency for helping people to more of life’s abundance, and she wanted to help. She never wanted help for herself. Clothes meant little to her. It was a fight to get a new rig on her; but eventually a harder fight to get it off. She never wore a jewel and had no ring but her High School class ring and never asked for anything but a wrist watch. She refused to have her hair up, though she was nearly seventeen. “Mother,” she protested,” you don’t know how much I get by with, in my braided pigtails, that I could not with my hair up.” Above every other passion of her life was her passion not to grow up, to be a child. The tomboy in her, which was big, seemed loath to be put away forever in skirts. She was a Peter Pan who refused to grow up.

 

Her funeral yesterday at the Congregational Church was as she would have wished it; no singing, no flowers except the big bunch of red roses from her brother Bill’s Harvard classmen—heavens, how proud that would have made her!—and the red roses from the Gazette forces, in vases, at her head and feet. A short prayer: Paul’s beautiful essay on “Love” from the Thirteenth Chapter of First Corinthians; some remarks about her democratic spirit by her friend, John H. J. Rice, pastor and police judge, which she would have deprecated if she could; a prayer sent down for her by her friend Carl Nau; and, opening the service, the slow, poignant movement from Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, which she loved; and closing the service a cutting from the joyously melancholy first movement of Tchaikovsky’s Pathetic Symphony, which she liked to hear, in certain moods, on the phonograph, then the Lord’s Prayer by her friends in High School.

That was all.

 

For her pallbearers only her friends were chosen: her Latin teacher, W. L. Holtz; her High School principal, Rice Brown; her doctor, Frank Foncannon; her friend, W. W. Finney; her pal at the Gazette office, Walter Hughes; and her brother Bill. It would have made her smile to know that her friend, Charley O’Brien, the traffic cop had been transferred from Sixth and Commercial to the corner near the church to direct her friends who came to bid her good-by.

 

A rift in the clouds in a gray day threw a shaft of sunlight upon her coffin as her nervous, energetic little body sank to its last sleep. But the soul of her, the glowing, gorgeous, fervent soul of her, surely was flaming in eager joy upon some other dawn.”

 

Mary’s father, journalist and newspaperman William Allen White, Feb. 10, 1868-Jan. 31, 1944

Don’t you feel like you know Mary through her father’s words? Have you ever read an obituary that touched you deeply? One that made you laugh? This one, especially that last lovely paragraph, brings tears every time I read it.

Heather Fry Blanton Talks Proximity and Emotional Tension Trope

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Trust on the Trail: Forced Proximity and Emotional Tension in Frontier Romances

There’s something deeply compelling about a romance that begins with distrust and danger, especially when it unfolds on the rugged frontier. In Western and frontier fiction, the “forced proximity” trope—where two strangers are thrown together by circumstance—is a beloved storytelling device. Why? Because it strips away all pretense and forces characters to confront not just each other, but themselves.

In stories like my new release, Lance, from the Gun for Hire series, Lance Wister finds himself wounded and on the run. He’s got no choice but to accept help from a wary peddler named Cat Callahan. She could turn him in. But she’s running from something, too, and he could bring trouble to her door. Survival, however, demands that they work together, and slowly, necessity begins to shift to something deeper.

On the frontier, trust isn’t just emotional—it’s practical. Will this person guard my back? Tend my wounds? Keep my secrets? When you’re traveling alone through Colorado’s wild terrain, every decision is high-stakes. Forced proximity amplifies the tension, especially when characters are hiding past sins or running from pain. And it’s in those quiet, inescapable moments—sharing a campfire, sharing a wagon bed, binding a bullet wound—where the seeds of intimacy are planted.

But here’s where the faith element takes root.

In many of these stories, trust doesn’t just bloom between two reluctant partners. It also becomes a journey back to trusting God. Often, both characters are running from something, like danger, or more emotional elements like grief, betrayal, or shame. They’ve lost faith in people, and sometimes in the Lord Himself. But being forced to depend on a stranger reveals a deeper truth: that God hasn’t abandoned them. He’s working, even in the wilderness, even in the mess.

For Lance and Cat, being “stuck” together becomes divine design. It’s not just about survival—it’s about healing. Scripture tells us that iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17), and sometimes God uses the most unlikely people and situations to refine us. What begins as distrust slowly turns to cooperation, then protection, and finally—if they’re brave enough—love.

That’s the heart of the frontier romance: it reminds us that in the loneliest, most desperate places, God still writes love stories. He still calls the broken into partnership. And He still brings beauty from the hardest trails.

 

So the next time you pick up a romance with a wounded outlaw and a wary heroine forced into close quarters, remember—it’s not just sparks and suspense. It’s about learning to trust again… each other, and the One who never left.

Can you think of a Western romance that hinges on forced proximity? What do you think of this trope? Comment below for your chance to win one of 5 copies of my new release. Lance and Cat are waiting to get to know you!

About Heather:

Heather Blanton is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling author of thirty Christian Western romances, including the highly rated and awarded “Romance in the Rockies” series.

She is a former journalist and often weaves real history in among her fictional storylines. She loves exploring the American West, especially ghost towns and museums. She has walked parts of the Oregon Trail, ridden horses through the Rockies, climbed to the top of Independence Rock, and even held an outlaw’s note in her hand.

Her novels are all Christian Western Romance because she enjoys writing about feisty pioneer women who struggle to find love and hold on to their faith. Like all good, old-fashioned Westerns, there is always justice, a moral message, American values, lots of high adventure, unexpected plot twists, and often a touch of suspense. Her work is inspired by authors like the great Louis L’Amour, Francine Rivers, and Linda Lael Miller, to name just a few. Her Defiance series has been optioned for TV.

WEBSITE  |  FACEBOOK  | AMAZON  | BOOKBUB

CHERYL’S WINNERS–PRE-ORDER OF LANDON!

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Hey everyone! Thanks so much for stopping by and commenting today! You made my post so much fun–you guys are the HEART of our group and we appreciate you so much! 

I’ve picked THREE winners today because we had such a wonderful turnout today–picking one would just stack those odds too much, so three it is! 

My winners are:

BRIDGETTE SHIPPY

SHERRY WELCH

SHARON B.

Y’all winners COME ON DOWN and email me at fabkat_edit@yahoo.com. Be sure to put WINNER in your subject line! I will send you a pre-order of  LANDON and when JULY15 rolls around, he will appear like magic on your KINDLE APP! 

The HANGMAN – Charlene Raddon – And a giveaway

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The Hangman

You’ve already heard of the series Gun for Hire. My book is the next due out on April 15.

In the Old West, for some reason, people hated hangmen. They threw garbage and rocks at them, ran them out of town, sometimes on a rail, and in rare cases, even tarred and feathered them.

The hangman didn’t choose the job. He took it because he had no choice.

It started back in Old England, where they would select a convict from a prison and make him the hangman.

His goal was to cause instant death by breaking the top two vertebrae of the victim’s neck. This did not always cause the quick death hoped for, but usually caused severe damage to the brain or left the victim paralyzed. In rare instances, this particular break caused no damage. I am an example of this. Several years ago, I fell on my sidewalk and broke those top two vertebrae. I also split my nose open. Bleeding badly, I got up and walked into the house. My doctor told me I was a miracle.

A few hangmen stand out in history:

William Marwood invented the “long drop” technique intended to break the prisoner’s neck instantly and cause death by asphyxia. Marwood also created a table of height and weight to determine the length of the rope used for hanging.

William Calcraft performed the last public executions in England in 1868. Calcraft’s methods sometimes caused the condemned to take several minutes to die. To speed matters up, he would pull on their legs or climb on their shoulders to break their neck.

By the 20th century, the role had become almost celebrity status with thousands of applicants after the death of William Calcraft.

Albert Pierrepoint, b. 1905, followed in the footsteps of his father and uncle and was England’s most prolific hangman. His autobiography was made into a movie, Pierrepoint: The Last Hangman, starring Timothy Spall. In 1941, Pierrepoint undertook his first execution as lead executioner when he hanged the gangland killer Antonio “Babe” Mancini. He arrived the day before the execution, learned the height and weight of the prisoner, and viewed the condemned man through a “Judas hole” in the door to judge his build, then went to the execution room—typically next door—where he tested the equipment using a sack that weighed about the same as the prisoner; he calculated the length of the drop using the Home Office Table of Drops, making allowances for the man’s physique, if necessary. He left the weighted sack hanging on the rope to ensure it was stretched. He would re-adjust it in the morning if required.

On the day of the execution, Pierrepoint studied an X-ray of a cervical spine with a hangman’s fracture. He secured the man’s arms behind his back with a leather strap and walked him to the execution chamber to a marked spot on the trapdoor. There, Pierrepoint placed a hood over the prisoner’s head and a noose around his neck. He placed the metal eye through which the rope was looped under the left jawbone, which, when the prisoner dropped, forced the head back and broke the spine. A large lever released the trapdoor. All of this took a maximum of 12 seconds.

Kirk
  Kirk-Gun for Hire-Click to Buy

In my book, Kirk, Gun for Hire, Book 3, Kirk’s younger brother is framed and convicted of bank robbery. Unconvinced of the boy’s guilt, the judge gave him a choice of prison or becoming the county hangman. Kirk saw his brother as too young and weak-willed to face prison life, so he asked the judge to let him take the hangman job for his brother. His request was granted.

And so Kirk became the hangman for Owyhee County, Idaho.

In the opening of my story, Kirk hangs a condemned man and is shot by the convict’s partner. The bullet grazes his skull; he falls off the gallows and lands unconscious, nearly at the feet of my heroine, Adina, a typist at the local newspaper. She rushes to help him and, assisted by the town marshal, gets him to the tinker-type wagon he used to get around, change clothes, and sleep in on the road. When Adina witnesses a murder the following day, the marshal takes her to Kirk. Together, they travel around the county conducting hangings and trying to avoid the men who wish them harm. They don’t always succeed; the tale includes plenty of action and romance.

Have you ever seen the movie about Pierrepoint, or have you known someone who broke their neck?

Charlene Raddon fell in love with the wild west as a child, listening to western music with her dad and sitting in his lap while he read Zane Gray books. She never intended to become a writer. Charlene was an artist. She majored in fine art in college.

In 1971, she moved to Utah, excited for the opportunity to paint landscapes. Then her sister introduced her to romance novels. She never picked up a paintbrush again. One morning she awoke to a vivid dream she knew must go into a book, so she took out a typewriter and began writing. She’s been writing ever since.

Instead of painting pictures with a brush, Charlene uses words.

In 2011, Charlene’s artistic nature prompted her to try a different path and she began designing book covers. Today, she has a long list of clients and her own cover site, silversagebookcovers.com where she specializes in historical romance covers, primarily western.

And I think it’s fair to say she’s a cat lover!

 

Do you prefer history told in a frank manner or would you rather the author gloss it over and leave out details? Leave a comment to get your name in the drawing for a chance at one of two free copies of KIRK when it comes out. 

 

Kirk – Gun for Hire Series

A man sacrifices his future for his brother and finds danger lurking in the shadows.

Kirk Reddick, a former preacher, is faced with either letting his brother be forced into the job of a hangman or accepting it himself. He chooses to take on the hated work until he finds the man who framed his brother.

Observing a hanging at Red River Crossing, Adina Kinnaird is touched as she overhears the hangman comfort the condemned man. When Kirk is shot, she helps him escape the gunman and the angry mob.

Traveling from town to town, Kirk and Adina search for the man who framed his brother and find themselves falling for each other, but Kirk doesn’t want her living in the danger he faces every day.

In a showdown with the outlaw, Adina is shot. Kirk’s heart stops. He doesn’t want to go on without her. If she lives, will capturing the gunman be enough to clear his brother’s name and give Kirk and Adina the freedom to live outside the shadow of the hangman’s noose?

Charlene’s Links

https://twitter.com/craddon

http://www.facebook.com/charlene.b.raddon

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1232154.Charlene_Raddon

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/charlene-raddon

https://www.pinterest.com/charraddon5080/

https://www.linkedin.com/in/charlene-raddon-00854629/

https://www.instagram.com/charrad75/

https://www.facebook.com/CharleneRaddonwesternbooks

https://linktr.ee/craddon

 

Creek is Out Plus a Giveaway!

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I’m so excited to finally have Creek out! Have you ever watched water, waiting on it to boil? This was exactly like that. I thought it never would.

This is Book 1 of a multi-author sweet romance series called Gun For Hire that was the brain child of Charlene Raddon. She also created all of these gorgeous covers.

Ten hardened men. Ten life-changing loves.

This thrilling ten-book, multi-author series follows men who live by the gun, surviving one day at a time. Outlaws, bounty hunters, hired guns—each has walked a dangerous path, never expecting a future beyond the next fight. But everything changes when they meet the one woman they can’t walk away from.

Join us on this unforgettable journey of passion, redemption, and the power of love—March 15th to July 30th!

Here are all ten of the authors. You may recognize several Fillies.

Now about Creek. When he receives a letter from a friend asking him to come to El Paso, he doesn’t waste any time. He owes this dying woman a debt of gratitude. He just hopes he’s not too late. He’s immediately swept up in rescuing a young orphan girl and when she sees the drawing of a thunderbird on Creek’s wrist, she claims he’s her father.

The story takes several turns as he tries to figure out what to do and how to let this girl down easy. He has to make her understand why he can’t be who she wants. Danger soon follows and they’re trust into a life-and-death struggle. Who will survive?

Here’s a video of all the books created by the talented Dan Garrett. Enjoy!

This is the first real western romance I’ve written in a while and it felt so good to get back to my roots. I discovered the joy of writing the kind of man I love to read.

I come by this love honestly. My dad was fascinated by outlaws. He claimed he once saw Clyde Barrow. All I know is that he admired men like Clyde, Pretty Boy Floyd, and John Dillinger. Maybe it was because they did things he wanted to but couldn’t. My dad wanted to know just once what having “enough” felt like. Only he died a poor man, never knowing. When I was growing up, he used to take me and my little sister Jan to museums and displays about outlaws. Maybe that’s where I got my fascination from. Or it could’ve been the many westerns on TV that thrilled my heart.

Some of my favorites were Laramie, Bonanza, Gunsmoke, and Cheyenne. What are some of yours? I’m giving away two ebook copies of Creek so leave a comment.