Mayo Lucas's Blog

Preview Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #10 (final entry)

When she put her thumb on the hammer, he arched away. “Now hold on, sugar. No need for that. I ain’t here to cause trouble. Just a man lookin’ to collect what’s owed him.” The visible bob of his Adam’s apple satisfied her immensely—so much so that she didn’t even mind when he reached out a single finger to carefully nudge the gun barrel to one side. “I don’t like guns. Especially aimed at me.” “Then I suggest you leave.” “And I’ll do just that—soon as I get to talk to your brother.” As their eyes locked, Caroline calculated the consequences of bloodshed over truce. Truce, she finally decided, lowering the heavy pistol back to her side. Cautious truce.  “So—is he home or not?” “Not.” She’d never know if it was an inadvertent glance that betrayed her or the fact that the library doors were the only closed ones in sight, but he was already reaching for a knob. “I told you he’s not here!” She tried to dart in front of him, but he was quicker. A twist of the knob, a push on the panel over her head, and one of the doors swung inward. Jammed together in the opening, they both froze in place. Fancy leather boots dangled on a level with their faces. He’s had them resoled, she thought inanely. Then, like a locomotive hurtling out of a dark tunnel, the grisly truth slammed into her, crushing her. The world tilted and she fell to her knees. If the gun fell from her hand, she wasn’t aware of it, never heard it hit the floor. No sound came to her ears, no thought to her mind—just spots before her eyes as she pitched forward into the void.

Hello, Reader! You've just finished reading chapter 1 of my newest book, Dealer's Choice. If want to know what happens next with Jack and Caroline, you're in luck! TOMORROW, October 30, is the official publication of DEALER'S CHOICE by Mayo Lucas. It's on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), Barnes & Nobel, and quickly being picked up by other sellers. Buy your copy today!

Visit me at https://www.mayolucas.com and leave you email address on the "Contact" form (last page) if you want to receive notifications about upcoming events and future books.

Thanks and Happy Reading!

Preview Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #9

Icy wind gusted through the doorway. She pushed it closed as he pulled a slip of paper out of his coat pocket and shoved it toward her face. “I waited in town this mornin’ like we agreed, but he never showed up.” Caroline saw only her brother’s signature before knocking the hand and its offensive paper aside. “A man shouldn’t oughta wager what he can’t afford to lose.” Her eyes narrowed. Gentleman, no, dandy maybe, but those words—plus his watch fob, two ivory dice stacked snugly in a little golden cage—told the bigger story. Professional gambler, that’s what he was. She wrinkled her nose. She should’ve known from the start. Nobody except Yankee carpetbaggers and southern sharpers could afford to smell that good these days. “Do you even know how to use that?” She felt a flutter of nerves spring to life in the pit of her stomach even as she feigned innocence. “Use what?” Oddly enough, it was his response—the dismissive flick of an eyebrow—that drained away her nervousness and replaced it with the bravado she’d come to rely on ever since her parents died and left her to overcome or make do as best she could. “You mean this?” Without so much as a tremor, she raised the pistol straight out, aiming squarely at the middle of his chest. “I surely do know how to use it. Just point and squeeze. We get a lot of varmints out this far from town, so I get plenty of practice.”

Preview Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #8

“Transomb. Jack Transomb.” Briefly, he lifted the brim of his derby and she caught a glimpse of dark eyes. “Well, if you’re here about that last load of feed,” she began, launching her offensive, “I told your man he’d get his money the first of the year, and he will—but if you’re here for that nasty Mr. Jessup, you can turn right around and go back where you came from. That’s the worst job of tailoring Wendall’s ever had done. I could’ve done better with my eyes closed.” The mustache twitched. “Bad debts all around, eh?” She didn’t answer. “Place needs work,” he commented, eyeing a split floorboard just beyond the threshold. She covered it with her foot. Returning his attention to her face, he pushed his hat brim up an inch with a single, straightened finger. Blue. His eyes were dark blue. “Well, I ain’t here from the tailor’s,” he was saying, “or the feedlot.” Suddenly, he pushed through the doorway, forcing her to drop her arm and back up. “Now see here—!” Striding well past her, he stopped and pivoted, sharp gaze sweeping the hallway, the gallery above, probing every doorway, every shadow. “I’m here ’cause your brother owes me money.”

Preview Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #7

Keeping one hand firmly on the doorframe, she lifted her chin. "Who are you and what do you want?" Words and tone designed to put herself in charge from the start. He looked her up and down just as blatantly as she had him, a pencil-thin mustache drawing attention to the curve of his mouth. "Your parents home?" The drawl told her at least being a Yankee wasn't one of his failings, but Southerner or no, the abbreviated question was rude. Plus, he failed to remove his hat. Clearly, he was no gentleman. "My parents are dead, sir, and I am mistress here, so I repeat: What is it you want?" "Is this the Cooper place?" "It is. And you are?" "You related to a Wendall Cooper?" "He's my brother." She angled herself behind the door to stop the chilled air sneaking up under her skirts . . . and to keep the pistol hidden. "Now please provide your name."

Preview of Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #6

The man, whoever he was, was eyeing where their once-graceful fanlight had been patched with brown paper and paste. Sleet glittered across his shoulders and atop the crown of a derby slanted so far forward she could barely see his eyes. The velvet collar of his Chesterfield was turned up, and everything about him—from striped trousers to silk neckcloth and pearl stick pin—said dandy, yet his stance was much less elegant. Elbows locked, shoulders hunched against the cold, and hands jammed in his pockets, he looked as ready for an argument as she felt.

Preview of Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #5

Twisting the ends of her shawl into a quick knot, she raced out of her room, around the gallery and down the curving flight of bare steps, ribbon-caught hair bouncing across her back. Who the devil could it be this time? Hadn’t they all been taken care of—at least for this month? She was barely to the bottom step when a demanding knock resounded through the wide entrance hall. Grabbing the pistol from the top drawer of the hall commode, she concealed it in the folds of her skirt and yanked open the front door.

Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, Entry #5

Twisting the ends of her shawl into a quick knot, she raced out of her room, around the gallery and down the curving flight of bare steps, ribbon-caught hair bouncing across her back. Who the devil could it be this time? Hadn’t they all been taken care of—at least for this month? She was barely to the bottom step when a demanding knock resounded through the wide entrance hall. Grabbing the pistol from the top drawer of the hall commode, she concealed it in the folds of her skirt and yanked open the front door.

Preview of Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #4

She swallowed the sudden pool beneath her tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten her fill—which reminded her . . . She’d have to find something to fix for the midday meal before her brother finally put in his appearance, surly with hunger. Before she could head for the stairs, a movement out the window caught her eye, and she cleared the glass again to see a rented hack come bouncing down the overgrown drive. It halted next to the veranda steps below. Dark, straight brows snapped into a V over the bridge of her nose as one of her brother’s favorite oaths hissed past her lips. Another creditor!

Preview of Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #3

The clock downstairs struck one, leaving a backwash of silence so complete it was suffocating. Oh, how she longed to break free—but to go where? And do what? Beyond her skills with needle and thread, she had no talents, only unnamed yearnings. Once upon a time, she’d assumed marriage was her future, but the war had bled a staggering number of their young men into the battlefields at Shiloh and Vicksburg. There were precious few left of marriageable age; thus, she’d made her peace with spinsterhood. Of course, in these shriveled days of postwar depression, she knew she should count herself lucky just to have a roof over her head. Still, she missed times past with its constant stream of people, the rich smells of roasting meats and baking bread wafting in from the kitchen.

Preview of Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #2

She’d heard him come in last night, but he’d never come upstairs. No doubt he’d spent the night on the couch in the library again. Ever since she’d made him promise to quit his gambling, he’d done nothing but sulk and try to avoid her.

Pressing the tips of her fingers together, she winced at their soreness as she rehearsed her oft-made argument. Her sewing could only bring in so much. They simply could not afford his gambling losses any longer. He was nothing like their papa, who rarely came home— even in the early days of the war—without the heavy jingle of gold in his pockets. However, he was also tipsy. In this, her brother was very much like their father.