Western Weddings

Second Chance at Love

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KathrynAlbrightBanner

What is it about reunion / second chance at love stories that make them a favorite? There are a few readers here who have mentioned knowing a boy in school, only to then be separated by circumstances, and then to come back together at a class reunion, a wedding, or a chance meeting years later. I’ve read of some couples in the newspaper where they reconnected after sixty years and a marriage in-between, tying the knot again at eighty years of age! I LOVE such stories!

What is their draw? Is it hope? Is it that love truly can conquer all? Or is it that we never forget our first love…and the rush of new emotions and experiences that made up that roller coaster of a time? The romantic in me say it is all these things.

My newest release (April 2016) is a story about second chances. It is a novella in the Western Spring Weddings Anthology ~ His Springtime Bride. I hope you enjoy the excerpt here…

His Springtime Bride 

Blurb ~

Released from prison, 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 trusts the man she once loved so completely. Years of old hurts and his violent past make it impossible to forgive and allow him back in 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 his son should be a part of his future?

Western Spring Weddings

Excerpt ~  

The coach rounded a rocky bend in the road and the village of Nuevo came into view. If she remembered correctly, the station and pen with fresh horses stood on the south side of the dusty town. From his seat overhead the driver called out announcing the place. The stagecoach slowed and finally pulled to a stop in front of the change station.

The dirt yard was empty; however, a buckboard sat off under the shade of a juniper tree. Perhaps that was her ride. The caw of a Steller’s jay broke the silence of the afternoon. A lean, broad-shouldered man stepped through the station door and out into the sunlight. She recognized him and froze. Scuffed boots, brown canvas pants, a cotton shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a green bandanna at his neck and the darkest brown eyes Riley had ever seen under a tan felt hat. Gabe Coulter.

Her breath whooshed from her like a deflating balloon. What was he doing here? When had he been released from prison? She stared at him, captivated and at the same time annoyed that after all these years he had grown more handsome. His collar-length black hair framed a face chiseled and sharp with angles, his nose straight as always, his jaw firm and square. The only thing not hard on the man was his lips…and they looked exactly as she remembered…enticing and kissable.

Abruptly, she pulled away from the window, hoping that he would walk away and never know she was there. Her heart raced. He still packed quite a presence. She swallowed, angry with herself for feeling anything at all. No amount of time was sufficient to make her forget what he’d done. She would never forgive him.

The driver placed the box step and swung open the door. “All out! Nuevo!”

She didn’t move.

“Aren’t we going, Ma?” Brody watched her.

She took a steadying breath. Perhaps it was silly to be nervous about running into Gabe after all this time. Hadn’t she just been telling herself to leave the past in the past? This was a test of her resolve. That’s all. Nothing more.

She tugged down on the hem of her shirtwaist and then straightened her straw bonnet. Ready. She stepped through the doorway and onto the box the driver had set for disembarking passengers. The bright sunlight blinded her. She wobbled slightly, her legs unused to activity and stiff after riding for four hours.

A strong hand grasped her upper arm, steadying her. The grip hardened to steel. “Riley? Riley Rawlins?”

His voice was richer, deeper, than she remembered, and he sounded astonished. Careful to keep all of her colliding thoughts contained and squashed deep inside, she looked up and met his eyes. “Hello, Gabe,” she said with cool reserve.

Gigi Hadid: Actor inspiration for Riley Rawlins (Photo by Dave Lee)

Then she stepped down to the ground and promptly stumbled.

He grabbed hold with his other hand and steadied her. Both grips were tight bands on her upper arms. He stared at her with unveiled shock in his eyes. “You are the company that Rawlins is expecting?”

She stiffened. “I am.”

He let go immediately. “Then I guess I’m here to fetch you.”

Her pulse raced. Her entire body felt on edge, as though half of her wanted to bolt one way and the
other half run another. “You are working for my father now?”

“Started not too long ago.”

With their exchange of letters, her father had known for over a month that she was coming home and yet he had hired Gabe? It didn’t seem possible. Years ago when he discovered they were involved in something more than friendship, Father had been dead set against them being near each other. He also knew how upset she’d been when Gabe had deserted her. Was this his own brand of retribution he was forcing on her?

She squared her shoulders, resigned that this “new beginning” had taken a decided turn for the worst. “Very well.” It wasn’t the most gracious of responses, but at the moment it mirrored how she felt.

His eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at her.

It was as if he was reaching back through the years and trying to read what had happened to her since then…and perhaps wishing she would return to where she had come from. Heat mounted on her cheeks under his scrutiny.

“Ma.”

She startled at her son’s voice behind her and turned to him. “Brody, this is Mister Coulter…a ranch hand of your grandfather’s.”

Gabe’s brow raised at the last, just the slightest bit, but he turned and watched Brody disembark. If Brody’s size…nearly five feet six inches…surprised him, not a muscle moved on his handsome face. When her son lifted his sullen gaze, all Gabe did was thrust out his hand.

Her son hesitated but then grasped Gabe’s hand in a firm shake.

“Brody,” Gabe said, as if testing his name and committing it to memory. His shake slowed and he glanced at Riley with a question lighting his eyes. Then he let go. “I’ll get your bags transferred to the wagon.”

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Tom Welling: Actor inspiration for Gabe Coulter.

“I can do it,” Brody said, his voice challenging. He scrambled to the top of the coach and tossed down their traveling cases with enough force Riley worried they might break open. It didn’t seem to faze Gabe as he caught them. What was her son trying to prove? When he had climbed back down and Gabe had left them to carry two of the cases to the wagon, she took Brody aside. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t like the way he looked at us—at you.”

It wasn’t the first time her son had acted protective of her, but it had been a long time since he had even cared—more than year.

“I hope you are a bit friendlier upon meeting your grandfather.” She also hoped her father was a bit friendlier than Gabe had been. Then squaring her shoulders, she braced herself for the long ride to the ranch and followed her son to the buckboard.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gabe’s entire body was shaking on the inside when he settled the luggage in the wagon bed. Riley was back—and with a son! Just the thought of her with another man made Gabe knot up inside, stupidly jealous of something that happened years ago. He hadn’t expected her to stay unhitched. She was too beautiful to stay single for long. He darted a look at her as she walked toward the wagon. Still slender, still with that long, wavy, honey-colored hair—although it was up in a knot under her hat. He’d never forgotten her eyes—gray-green with long dark lashes. They’d haunted him for as long as he could remember.

He helped her onto the wagon seat, irritated that his hands tingled when he let loose of her. Brody gave him a penetrating look before climbing up beside her. It wasn’t hard to decipher the stare. Gabe had felt possessive often enough with his own mother whenever Rawlins had come slinking around. The boy didn’t have a thing to worry about. As much as he had once loved Riley, he had learned his lesson there. He was just the hired help in her family’s opinion and nowhere near good enough for her.

His Springtime Bride/Western Spring Weddings Anthology   ©  2016  by Kathryn Albright
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.

For more information about Western Spring Weddings or my other books,
please check my website ~  www.kathrynalbright.com

Now ~ I’ve admitted to my favorite kind of stories. I also love coming-of-age stories and the-underdog-wins stories. What about you? What type of story draws your interest over and over. If nothing strikes you ~ just name your favorite book from the past five years…( I always need new recommendations for great reads!)

Comment for a chance in my drawing! I’ll give away one copy of Western Spring Weddings (or another story from my backlist) to one lucky commenter. 

My Beautiful Daughter’s Beautiful Wedding

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WG Logo 2015-04

Hi!  Winnie Griggs here.  Three weeks ago we had one of those milestone events happen in our family – my youngest daughter got married.  Although there were the requisite number of bumps in the road as far as executing ‘the plan’ for the wedding, the ceremony itself was absolutely beautiful. As the proud mother of the bride, I thought I’d share a few pictures from the big day with you.

White SpacerThese first two are before-and-after shots of the bridesmaids

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Here’s a shot of me and my husband with the bride.  Remember me mentioning there were a few bumps in the road?  You can see the evidence of one of those ‘bumps’ in this shot.  Just before the wedding, I had an allergic reaction to either my make-up or hair spray or both.  As a result, my right eye was swollen almost shut for the whole ceremony and reception.  Needless to say, I tried to duck out of as many photos as possible!

MW-Bride & parents

Here is a shot of all four of my children just before the ceremony started.

MW-4 kids

The next two are of my husband escorting the bride down the aisle.  I especially like the second shot – the two bridesmaids visible over my husband’s shoulder are our other two daughters and to the right of the bride are me and my mother.

MW-Bride & father

And here’s the happy couple!

MW-Bride & groom

Here’s one last shot to show you the cake

MW-Cutting the cake

I hope you enjoyed this little peak into what was a very special day for our family.

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And to celebrate the release this month of Second Chance Hero, the sixth book in my Texas Grooms series, I will be giving a copy to one person who leaves a comment on this post today.

18 SCH medium

SECOND CHANCE HERO

Winning the Widow’s Heart 

To help his dying sister, Nate Cooper once broke the law and paid a heavy price for his actions. Now the ex-con turned saddler hopes for a quiet life and new beginning in Turnabout, Texas. Being declared a hero for saving a child’s life, however,  leaves Nate feeling like a fraud.

Since the violent death of her husband, single mom Verity Leggett has attempted to lead a safe life, avoiding danger and excitement at all costs. And her daughter’s handsome rescuer Mr. Cooper seems like a perfectly responsible man, one she can finally rely on.

When his secrets come to light, however, will Verity be able to get over his past and see Nate for the caring man he’s become?

Wedding Memories

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My youngest son is getting married on Saturday!  I couldn’t be happier for Dave and Whitney, my new daughter-in-law. It’s our second wedding in eight months. My oldest son and his wife tied the knot in October. In honor of both brides, I thought I’d talk about family wedding memories.

My husband and I had a whirlwind courtship back in 1980.  We’d been acquaintances in high school and later became friends. He rode up to my house on a big red motorcycle one evening, suggested a movie and off we went to see the first Star Trek movie.  Four months later we got married in a very small ceremony in my parents’ living room. I wasn’t the girl who always dreamed of a big wedding.  In fact, Mike and I planned to elope until my dad said, “I think your mother would like to see you get married.” 

Well, my mom said, “You’re getting married here? I thought you were eloping?” She liked the idea of eloping  just fine. It was my dad who wanted to see the big moment and he did.  Short and sweet. Family. A wedding breakfast, where I found out my husband of 45 minutes didn’t like quiche.  Thirty-one years later, we’re going strong and he hasn’t had quiche since.

My parents’ wedding in 1954 was much more traditional My mom wore a beautiful white dress with a sweetheart neckline, lots of lace and a veil. Her bridesmaids wore shades of aqua, ballerina length dresses and cute little hats. The best picture, I think, is “the kiss.”  No wonder my folks were together for 42 years!  A lot of love was there from the beginning. So was faith and a willingness to talk, talk, talk things through.

My mom’s wedding dress got worn again in 1993. When my brother and future sister-in-law got engaged, she had trouble finding just the right dress.  My mom’s gown fit her perfectly. Not only did she wear the dress, she and John got married on my parent’s 39th wedding anniversary. My oldest son was the ring bearer. He looked great in a tux! He looked even better on his own wedding day,which leads us to . . .

The most recent wedding is my oldest son and his wife.  Awesome day!  They got married at Woodlawn Plantation in Alexandria, Virginia.  String quartet. Delicious food. Lovely flowers. Gorgeous pictures. Best of all, family got to celebrate with them.

So those are my wedding memories. What are yours?  Of maybe you have a favorite wedding scene in a book?  I’d love to hear about them.

I’ll be in and out today . . . The wedding ramp-up is starting.  Can’t wait for Saturday!  P.S.  Sorry not to have family pictures . . . I don’t have the older ones on the computer, and the newer ones are on the old computer which isn’t here today.  They were on this computer until I had a virus a few months ago.  They’re safe, just not easily accessible.

Cheryl St.John Shares How She Got Started Writing

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Today I’m responding to another of the most often asked questions writers hear:

How did you get started writing?

I’ve always written in one form or another. As a child I wrote stories, drew the covers, and stapled them into mini-books. My first rejection came at age fourteen when I submitted a romantic short story to Redbook Magazine. I still have the form rejection. I was crushed.

I wrote long hand off and on after that, occasionally typing a story on my Grandma St.John’s manual typewriter. For years I pretty much dedicated myself to my family, and raised my four kids.

I used to read only horror, mystery and main stream novels, but I read a few Victoria Holts I’d received from the book club and found them appealing, yet somewhat unsatisfactory in some way I couldn’t define at the time. On a whim one day, while browsing the store shelves, I bought Lisa Gregory’s The Rainbow Season and LaVyrle Spencer’s Hummingbird. Imagine that out of all the books available, I chose two classic romances for my first taste of romance!

Needless to say, I was hooked from that day forward. I devoured everything either of those two authors ever wrote, and went on to Janelle Taylor, Jude Devereaux, Johanna Lindsey, Francine Rivers, and Kathleen Woodiwiss.

ORIGINAL DRAWING BY A VERY YOUNG CHERYL

When my youngest daughter went to Kindergarten, I was lost without her. In retrospect, it was empty nest syndrome, but instead of having another baby, which many women do, I decided it was time to write the novel that would launch me to stardom.

Yeah, right.

All The Tender Tomorrows and Soft Summer Magic are still on a shelf in my closet, along with a few other manuscripts, and rightly so. Looking back on the manuscript preparation, the stories with no plot or conflict, and the volume of editors I sent them to is a humiliating, yet laughable experience. I can’t believe I did that! I was rejected by the best in the business. Repeatedly.

I wrote in a vacuum for years, reading outdated how-to books from the library and sending stuff out to anyone in The Writer’s Market that I hadn’t already pounced on.

My mom, who’s always been my biggest fan, even when I was producing crap, clipped an article about Diane Wicker Davis from the newspaper. An Avon writer, she and her husband had recently been stationed nearby. Diane had started an RWA chapter. I was impressed.

But not in that league! So I continued on my solitary way.

Then one day in 1989, by brother, who is also a writer, brought me the Sunday paper with an article about another local writer from the local RWA chapter. It took me weeks to get the courage to call that number. I was terrified that they’d all be professionals with history and journalism and English degrees, and here was little old clueless me, puttering along on my used Selectric. (I had upgraded – lol)

Well, I garnered all my bravado, attended a meeting, and discovered that though they were elementary teachers, criminal justice teachers, and newspaper reporters, many of the members were moms, and they were all regular people just like me. (Some would beg to differ that I’m regular, but that’s a topic for another day.)

Later, as the group grew and evolved, I served as program chairman, vice president, president, and PAN liaison of my local chapter, the greatest bunch of writers I could ever hope to know. They’ve become my critique partners, my teachers, my mentors, and my supporters, but most of all, my friends.

With the networking in RWA, the teaching and guidance of my local chapter, and a terrific agent who took me on and believed in me, I sold my first book in 1992. Rain Shadow was released as part of Harlequin Historical’s March Madness promotion in 1993, and my second book followed in October of that same year. After the sale of my third book, I quit my job as a merchandising artist and started writing full time.

This month Western Winter Wedding Bells is my 35th published book, and I have two more scheduled in June and July 2011 and a Christmas 2011 novella—contracted just yesterday—to write.

And that’s how I got started writing.

Bridal Showers Then & Now

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 My oldest son is getting married!!!!  Yes, we’re excited.  Before I get into bridal showers, can I brag a bit? He pulled off one of the best proposals ever.  He went to grad school in Egypt, and he’s done a lot of travel in the Middle East. He and his soon-to-be fiance were backpacking in Syria where he took her to the highest tower of the Crac des Chevaliers, a castle from the Crusader era.  At the top, he asked a British tourist to take a picture.  Clever to the core, he faked having a rock in his shoe. When his girlfriend turned around, he was on bended knee with a ring on display, asking her to marry him.

She said yes and we’re so glad she did.  She came to Lexington this past weekend for a family bridal shower and we had great time.  We shopped for my “Mother of the Groom” dress together, ate Chinese food for lunch and came home to presents, games, food and Skype.  My son is still overseas, but we got things set up so he could watch the festivities via webcam. 

Imagine Skyping to a bridal shower. The world has sure changed . . . or has it? We had a kitchen themed shower much like mom had in in 1954.  As a kid I remember looking in the hope chest she’d filled with sheets and towels and an assortment of what-not for her new home. As long as I can remember, she had special things in that chest.  The history of hope chests would be an interesting blog. Since I have weddings on my mind, maybe I’ll do that next.  Today, though, I’ve been thinking about bridal showers.

My husband and I got married in 1980.  We practically eloped so we skipped the bridal shower tradition, though we made up for it with baby showers a few years later.  We started out with a set of everyday dishes, pots and pans, bedding and a lot of hand-me-downs. What we didn’t have, we bought at Pick n’ Save.  It’s been 30 years and would you believe I’m using the same red-handled can opener?

Bridal showers are a special time for the bride and family alike.  The custom as we know it in America originated in the 1890s.  It’s a gift-giving party for the purpose of getting the bride and groom set up in their new home.  In some cases, where the bride’s family was poor or perhaps opposed to the marriage, the bridal shower made sure the wedding could take place. It provided the bride and groom with what they needed to set up house and sustain their marriage.  Bridal showers also have ties to old dowry practices.  If a woman’s family refused to support her decision to marry, friends would come together and bring gifts to fill in the lack of a dowry.

Did you ever wonder why we call these events “showers” and not just parties”?    I figured it referred to showering the bride with gifts, but the word has more literal roots.  In the 1890s, it was the custom for the bride’s family and friends to put small presents in a parasol and open the parasol over her head.  Small should be the key word.  We gave my future d-i-l a set of pots and pans.  If they’d hit her in the head, she’d have been knocked unconscious . . . Same with the flatware! 

Bridal showers started as an urban tradition among wealthy families, but the custom quickly moved to rural America. Over the years, showers have evolved into a celebration that can be anything from a couples party to a bachelorette party to the traditional kind of party my mom enjoyed.

What about you? Have you given a bridal shower?  Been the bride at a shower in your honor?  What did you like best?  My favorite moment was watching my son on Skype as he joked with his bride-to-be.  It was just so sweet . . . I’ll never forget it.

Cowboys at Christmas – Donna Alward

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donna-alward-christmas-coverYou know, I’m getting kinda used to this cowboy thing.  And while it’s nice to go off the ranch once in a while and write something different – I had scads of fun doing an office romance – it’s getting more like writing cowboys and ranchers is what I know.  Somehow, no matter what kind of story I’m working on, elements of those cowboys come through. 

I think part of it has to do with setting, to be honest.  I’ve always felt a strong connection to the land (even if it’s not ranch land per se) and so my characters often do too – there’s a respect and reverence for it.  It’s in the way the leaves on the cottonwoods rustle, or how the fields stretch out to touch the horizon, or just the sense of fulfillment one feels breathing in the fresh air, ripe with harvest.  Or, maybe even ripe with something else.  Even that – I don’t mind so much.  It smells to me of hard work and sustenance and roots.

Hard work – roots – those are things you’ll find over and over again in my books, so when I started work on my novella, “A Bride For Rocking H Ranch,” (Montana, Mistletoe, Marriage) I knew those twocowboysnow2 elements would play a big part.   After all, what could be better than a hard-working cowboy at Christmas?  *Pauses to ponder*…..

(I know.  I’m thinking sheepskin jacket, cowboy hat, snow dusting his shoulders as his dark eyes…)

But wait.  This time I did something different.  I put in a twist.

My hero’s not a cowboy.  He’s a CHEF.

My heroine’s the cowboy – or rather, cowgirl.  In fact, she’s the de facto manager of Rocking H Ranch outside Helena, Montana.  Kelley can hold her own and no one works harder – looking after the land AND the family.  She likes her jeans and boots and no-fuss flannel shirts.  She can’t cook and leaves the domestic side of things to her sister Amelia.  And due to some troubles within the Hughes clan, she’s agreed to cook Christmas dinner for the family.

Of course this is where Mack comes in.  Mack, despite being a chef, is still a Montana man even as he tries to deny it.  As the story goes on, that really starts to creep through until you realize he and Kelley aren’t so different after all. 

Hard work ethic.  Putting down roots.  Honour.  All things that our cowboy and rancher heroes have in spades, and maybe that’s why writing contemporary westerns is so much fun for me.  Those are the kinds of guys I’d want to marry.  I did marry one – not a cowboy, though he has the boots to say otherwise – but someone who believes in hard work and a fair shake and family.

Setting it all at Christmas?

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Well, that’s just the bow on top of the present, now, isn’t it?

I’ll pick a random commenter to win a copy of Montana, Mistletoe, Marriage – featuring my novella A Bride For Rocking H Ranch as well as Snowbound Cowboy (Amelia’s story) by Patricia Thayer.

 

Stilettos and Glossy Lips … When do you feel oh, so sexy?

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Recently in a Redbook article, women were asked what made them feel desirable, then the same question was asked of their smitten men. Their answers may surprise you. Mind you, these are men ALREADY in love with their mates.  

 

According to Redbook:

 

“When a man is in love, what he finds really attractive is the feeling that he’s seeing you for who you truly are,” explains REDBOOK Love Network expert Scott Haltzman, M.D., author of The Secrets of Happily Married Women. “To a guy, the makeup, the sexy outfit, it’s all a mask. He wants the woman behind the mask. Openness, vulnerability, an air of contentment — those things are what really turns him on.”

 

Do you believe that?   It seemed a bit hard to swallow, but as I read on I realized that what made women feel sexy, wasn’t really what the men found sexy about them.

 

Case in point, take the woman learning how to belly dance.  She feels sexy when she makes those sensual moves. She feels really in touch with her body.  But when asked, her husband found her most sexy when she could hold her own in a political debate.  Her political views are not popular yet she defends her ideas and stands her ground.  Her intelligence and her passion for the subject really turns him on. 

 

Go figure?

 

Another woman married for 15 years feels close to her mate when they reconnect as a couple.  They take walks on the beach, read together and feel the closeness of their bond, which she states is powerful.  That’s when she feels most desirable.   Her husband finds her most desirable when he watches her speak to friends in a large group, telling a story and drawing them in with her passion and warm inviting smile. Her sweetness and generosity is quite an elixir. 

 

 

Another married woman finds herself most sexy when she dons black stilettos, wears low-cut blouses and colors her lips with shiny red gloss.  Add candlelight to the scenario and she’s a happy camper.  But ironically, her husband likes her natural beauty.  He finds her most attractive when she’s vegged out on the sofa watching television and totally relaxed.  Often, he grabs his camera and takes a shot, because she looks so inviting and beautiful.

 

I’m one too, who is amazed that my husband doesn’t like seeing me in sexy clothes. He’d rather I wear no make-up, loving my brown eyes and natural skin tones.  But the one thing that he really likes (pardon my being forthright here) is when I put on this pale pink plain cotton ancient nightie that I’ve worn nearly to shreds.  He claims it’s the sexiest piece of clothing I own.  Honestly, I was ready to toss it out.

 

Gee, I’ve been writing romance a long time. I’ve been married forever and I never realized that it’s not the stilettos and red lipstick that turn a man on once they’ve fallen in love. 

 

Do you think women harbor misconceptions about what their men find sexy in them?  

 

And what makes you feel good about yourself?  

 

If you could pick one couple who despict a true married couple, who would they be? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

 

Would you like to order a copy of Western Weddings?  Click here:

 

Western Weddings: Rocky Mountain Bride\Shotgun Vows\Springville Wife (Harlequin Historical)