Kristy McCaffrey's Blog: Author Kristy McCaffrey, page 7
February 26, 2019
Old Spanish Mines
By Kristy McCaffrey
Long before the westward expansion of the United States, the Spanish were present. Markings on a canyon wall in central Utah consisting of a cross symbol bear the date ‘1667’. Hieroglyphics and pictographs originally thought to be placed by Native Americans are actually markers along the Spanish Trail, which led from Mexico to the Uinta Mountains (in Utah) and beyond. This trail was the main link between Mexican and Spanish outposts, and it’s posited that they were religious outposts. The Spanish presence lasted well into the 1800’s, when packs of Mexicans were reportedly leaving the Uinta Mountains laden with gold.
The Uinta Mountains of Utah
Until the 1800’s, the tales of the Spanish gold mines were the subject of Native American history, with few white men knowing of the mines. The Spaniards used the Native Americans as slave labor, and after many years of oppression it’s believed that they revolted and killed most of their Spanish captors. Supposedly the Native Americans returned the gold bullion to the earth and sealed it in the very mines from which it had come.
Thomas Rhoades
Thomas Rhoades, a close assistant to Mormon Church leader Brigham Young, was one of the first white men to fully understand the implications of the Spanish mines. Young had become a religious mentor to a Ute Indian named Chief Walkara, who spoke of a secret cache of gold in the Uinta Mountains. The chief agreed to give the gold to the church, and Rhoades was selected to transport it to Salt Lake City.
Unfortunately, the Indians refused to remove the gold, believing it to be cursed. But it was easy for Rhoades to transport since it was already mined and left in bullion form. His first trip was said to have lasted two weeks, yielding more than sixty pounds of pure gold. For several years, Rhoades continued to transfer gold until, in 1887, he discovered additional mines located off Indian ground. This spurred interest in the lost Spanish gold mines, since it appeared there wasn’t just one mine to be found but many.
Searching for the mines could be deadly. In the early years, stories circulated of prospectors being shot and killed, often by Native Americans protecting the sacred mines. Even as recently as 1990 there have been reports of modern-day prospectors being fired upon as a warning by Native Americans who protect the land near historic mining operations.
Old-timers in the Uinta Mountains have claimed there are seven mines lined with pure gold that supplied the Aztecs, serving as the basis for the seven golden cities of Cibola sought by early Spanish explorers.
In ROSEMARY, Book 11 of the Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series, Rosemary goes in search of the fabled Floriana mine in the wilderness of the Utah Territory in 1884. While The Floriana is a fictitious mine, I based it on tales of the time.
Rosemary Brennan is recovering from the loss of her husband five months prior in a devastating mine accident that took the lives of nearly all the men in Wildcat Ridge. The mine owner, Mortimer Crane, has given the widows an ultimatum—find husbands or he will evict them from their homes and businesses. Desperate to keep the assay office that her deceased husband had managed, she heads into the hills in search of an old Spanish mine called The Floriana in the hope she can lay claim to a bonanza of gold.
Ex-U.S. Deputy Marshal Miles McGinty arrives in Wildcat Ridge to pay his respects to Jack Brennan’s widow. He and Jack had a history, and Miles is heartsick over the loss of the young man he had come to think of as a brother. When he learns of Rosemary’s problems with the piggish Crane, he will do anything to help her—even offering marriage. But when it becomes clear that Crane knew of Jack’s criminal past and was blackmailing him over it, Miles must decide whether to tell Rosemary the truth, because doing so may drive her away. And to his surprise, Miles has fallen in love with his new wife.
A sweet romance set in 1884 Utah Territory.
Available at Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.
Connect with Kristy
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Blog ~ Pathways
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Long before the westward expansion of the United States, the Spanish were present. Markings on a canyon wall in central Utah consisting of a cross symbol bear the date ‘1667’. Hieroglyphics and pictographs originally thought to be placed by Native Americans are actually markers along the Spanish Trail, which led from Mexico to the Uinta Mountains (in Utah) and beyond. This trail was the main link between Mexican and Spanish outposts, and it’s posited that they were religious outposts. The Spanish presence lasted well into the 1800’s, when packs of Mexicans were reportedly leaving the Uinta Mountains laden with gold.
The Uinta Mountains of Utah
Until the 1800’s, the tales of the Spanish gold mines were the subject of Native American history, with few white men knowing of the mines. The Spaniards used the Native Americans as slave labor, and after many years of oppression it’s believed that they revolted and killed most of their Spanish captors. Supposedly the Native Americans returned the gold bullion to the earth and sealed it in the very mines from which it had come.
Thomas Rhoades
Thomas Rhoades, a close assistant to Mormon Church leader Brigham Young, was one of the first white men to fully understand the implications of the Spanish mines. Young had become a religious mentor to a Ute Indian named Chief Walkara, who spoke of a secret cache of gold in the Uinta Mountains. The chief agreed to give the gold to the church, and Rhoades was selected to transport it to Salt Lake City.
Unfortunately, the Indians refused to remove the gold, believing it to be cursed. But it was easy for Rhoades to transport since it was already mined and left in bullion form. His first trip was said to have lasted two weeks, yielding more than sixty pounds of pure gold. For several years, Rhoades continued to transfer gold until, in 1887, he discovered additional mines located off Indian ground. This spurred interest in the lost Spanish gold mines, since it appeared there wasn’t just one mine to be found but many.
Searching for the mines could be deadly. In the early years, stories circulated of prospectors being shot and killed, often by Native Americans protecting the sacred mines. Even as recently as 1990 there have been reports of modern-day prospectors being fired upon as a warning by Native Americans who protect the land near historic mining operations.
Old-timers in the Uinta Mountains have claimed there are seven mines lined with pure gold that supplied the Aztecs, serving as the basis for the seven golden cities of Cibola sought by early Spanish explorers.
In ROSEMARY, Book 11 of the Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series, Rosemary goes in search of the fabled Floriana mine in the wilderness of the Utah Territory in 1884. While The Floriana is a fictitious mine, I based it on tales of the time.
Rosemary Brennan is recovering from the loss of her husband five months prior in a devastating mine accident that took the lives of nearly all the men in Wildcat Ridge. The mine owner, Mortimer Crane, has given the widows an ultimatum—find husbands or he will evict them from their homes and businesses. Desperate to keep the assay office that her deceased husband had managed, she heads into the hills in search of an old Spanish mine called The Floriana in the hope she can lay claim to a bonanza of gold.
Ex-U.S. Deputy Marshal Miles McGinty arrives in Wildcat Ridge to pay his respects to Jack Brennan’s widow. He and Jack had a history, and Miles is heartsick over the loss of the young man he had come to think of as a brother. When he learns of Rosemary’s problems with the piggish Crane, he will do anything to help her—even offering marriage. But when it becomes clear that Crane knew of Jack’s criminal past and was blackmailing him over it, Miles must decide whether to tell Rosemary the truth, because doing so may drive her away. And to his surprise, Miles has fallen in love with his new wife.
A sweet romance set in 1884 Utah Territory.
Available at Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.
Connect with Kristy
Website
Blog ~ Pathways
Newsletter
February 4, 2019
The Fire Assaying Process
By Kristy McCaffrey
The fire assay method is used to determine the precious metal content of a mining sample and has been in use for thousands of years.
Assaying is the process of determining the quantity of any particular metal in an ore or alloy, especially the determination of the quantity of gold or silver.
Initially, the sample must be reduced to a powder in order to be tested. The powder is referred to as “pulp” and the scales to weigh it are called “pulp scales”. The assayer begins by running the sample through a crusher. After the initial crushing, the sample is put into a “buck board” for further pulverization under a muller that rubs the material into a finer state with a sliding motion. Harder samples are made finer using a device called a “rocker” that uses a heavier weight upon the sample being pulverized. Assayers doing a smaller volume of work might use an iron mortar and pestle, although it requires considerably more effort.
As this process unfolds, the assayer divides the sample into smaller and smaller portions until the correct sample size is achieved. After pulverization, the sample must be run through sieves of appropriate size. Any material that doesn’t pass through must be further ground down until the entire sample will pass through the sieve.
The resulting material must be carefully mixed and then stored in a container. The contents should not be shaken as this could cause the materials to begin stratifying according to their masses and it could upset the accuracy of the process.
Selected portions of the sample are placed into a scorifier, a dish that can sustain the heat of the assayer’s oven. Along with a sample of litharge (a form of lead), various chemicals are included that will help in allowing the metals to separate from the slag. The mixture is roasted in the assayer’s oven until the melted slag completely covers the lead bead that forms in the scorifier.
The sample is then poured into a cone-shaped mold, allowing the metal to form at the apex and the slag at the bottom. The metal part, or lead button, is detached from the slag and hammered into a cube with no sharp corners. The button is then melted again in a cupel, which is made of a material called bone ash. During this process, lead and other impurities are both oxidized and driven into the material of the cupel itself. A good cupel is capable of absorbing its own weight in litharge. The metal in the cupel melts, becomes smaller, and forms into a bead. The composition of this bead should be gold and silver. This bead is weighed.
The next step is called “parting”. The bead is flattened, placed in a porcelain capsule and treated with a solution of water and nitric acid. Once the reaction begins, the capsule is warmed. Silver in the bead forms a solution of silver nitrate that is carefully washed away until only gold, if any, remains. This is gently dried in the capsule and removed.
The final sample of gold is weighed, unless it’s too small, in which case it is described as a “trace” or “color”. From the weight of this bead, the assayer will calculate the gold and silver ore value per ton of ore.
In ROSEMARY, Book 11 of the Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series, Rosemary is determined to keep the assay office open after the death of her husband, along with most of the men in town, in a mining accident.
***
Rosemary Brennan struggles with grief along with the other widows of Wildcat Ridge after a devastating mine accident takes the life of her husband, Jack, and many others. Forced to find a new husband or be evicted from her home by the unscrupulous mine owner, Mortimer Crane, Rosemary finds unexpected help from Jack’s friend, Miles McGinty, an ex-U.S. Deputy Marshal. Together, they’ll uncover Crane’s deceit that involved her first husband. But McGinty knows more than he’s saying, and Rosemary isn’t certain she can trust another man so soon after losing Jack. More importantly, does she dare open her heart to him?
***
In the following excerpt, Rosemary has gone into the hills in search of an old Spanish mine called The Floriana but has become lost. She stumbles across the path of two unsavory prospectors, Hector and Alvin. It’s here that she meets our hero, McGinty.
Excerpt from Rosemary
Two men rolled in the dirt, locked together like battling bull elk. Another horse stood vigil, minus its rider, who must be the man currently fighting Hector on her behalf. For a split second, she thought it might have been Priscilla’s husband, Braxton, but the man grunting and, unfortunately, losing ground to the likes of Hector, was a stranger to her.
Friend or foe, she couldn’t let Hector win.
“Freeze or I’ll shoot,” she said loudly.
Both men stopped and looked at her.
“Who are you?” she demanded of the stranger.
“McGinty,” he wheezed past the chokehold Hector had on him.
McGinty? That sounded familiar.
“Let him go, Hector,” she demanded, “before I drag you to the marshal and have you locked up.”
A wicked grin spread across Hector’s face. “How you gonna do that? You’re as lost as a whore in church.”
Rosemary inhaled sharply. “You’re a despicable human being, and if you don’t release Mr. McGinty right now, I’ll shoot your foot off.”
Hector chuckled and gripped his arm tighter around McGinty’s neck. The stranger’s face was starting to turn purple.
Rosemary cocked the gun and closed her right eye to line up the sight with her left the way she had practiced with Jack. Without hesitation she fired, the kick from the weapon knocking her backwards with a scream. As she scrambled to her feet, Hector was howling, but Mr. McGinty had managed to free himself.
Alvin ran toward them with a lopsided gait, huffing and sweating. He might be young, but he acted like an old man.
Mr. McGinty grabbed a shotgun from his horse and aimed the firearm at the two prospectors.
“She shot me!” Hector wailed.
Rosemary remained where she was, a terrible trembling overcoming her. Good Lord, I did shoot him.
Alvin bent down to examine his friend’s leg, wheezing as he spoke. “Now, Hector, she barely grazed you.”
“She shot my foot off!”
Alvin shook his head, his mouth buried in the mop of whiskers that hung from his chin. “Nope. The bullet’s in the ground, not yer foot. She made a hole in your trousers, that’s all. I see a tiny speck of blood, but I’m not sure since you’re a mite filthy.”
“Grab her!” Hector insisted. “We’ll take her to Wildcat Ridge and have her arrested.”
“I don’t think so,” Mr. McGinty finally chimed in. “You were chasing her. What did you plan to do when you caught her?”
Hector’s expression turned incredulous. “Who the blazes are you? And how do you know she’s not my wife? Or somethin’?”
Mr. McGinty looked at her and the full brunt of his attention stilled her breath. Before she turned purple herself, she gulped air into her lungs. He was tall and strong and … how on earth did the likes of Hector best this man?
“Are you his wife?” he asked. “Or somethin’?”
Copyright © 2019 K. McCaffrey LLC
Pre-Order Rosemary
Don't miss all the books in The Widows of Wildcat Series
Sweet Historical Western Stories
1884 Utah Territory
Visit the series page here.
Connect with Kristy
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Blog ~ Pathways
Newsletter
The fire assay method is used to determine the precious metal content of a mining sample and has been in use for thousands of years.
Assaying is the process of determining the quantity of any particular metal in an ore or alloy, especially the determination of the quantity of gold or silver.
Initially, the sample must be reduced to a powder in order to be tested. The powder is referred to as “pulp” and the scales to weigh it are called “pulp scales”. The assayer begins by running the sample through a crusher. After the initial crushing, the sample is put into a “buck board” for further pulverization under a muller that rubs the material into a finer state with a sliding motion. Harder samples are made finer using a device called a “rocker” that uses a heavier weight upon the sample being pulverized. Assayers doing a smaller volume of work might use an iron mortar and pestle, although it requires considerably more effort.
As this process unfolds, the assayer divides the sample into smaller and smaller portions until the correct sample size is achieved. After pulverization, the sample must be run through sieves of appropriate size. Any material that doesn’t pass through must be further ground down until the entire sample will pass through the sieve.
The resulting material must be carefully mixed and then stored in a container. The contents should not be shaken as this could cause the materials to begin stratifying according to their masses and it could upset the accuracy of the process.
Selected portions of the sample are placed into a scorifier, a dish that can sustain the heat of the assayer’s oven. Along with a sample of litharge (a form of lead), various chemicals are included that will help in allowing the metals to separate from the slag. The mixture is roasted in the assayer’s oven until the melted slag completely covers the lead bead that forms in the scorifier.
The sample is then poured into a cone-shaped mold, allowing the metal to form at the apex and the slag at the bottom. The metal part, or lead button, is detached from the slag and hammered into a cube with no sharp corners. The button is then melted again in a cupel, which is made of a material called bone ash. During this process, lead and other impurities are both oxidized and driven into the material of the cupel itself. A good cupel is capable of absorbing its own weight in litharge. The metal in the cupel melts, becomes smaller, and forms into a bead. The composition of this bead should be gold and silver. This bead is weighed.
The next step is called “parting”. The bead is flattened, placed in a porcelain capsule and treated with a solution of water and nitric acid. Once the reaction begins, the capsule is warmed. Silver in the bead forms a solution of silver nitrate that is carefully washed away until only gold, if any, remains. This is gently dried in the capsule and removed.
The final sample of gold is weighed, unless it’s too small, in which case it is described as a “trace” or “color”. From the weight of this bead, the assayer will calculate the gold and silver ore value per ton of ore.
In ROSEMARY, Book 11 of the Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series, Rosemary is determined to keep the assay office open after the death of her husband, along with most of the men in town, in a mining accident.
***
Rosemary Brennan struggles with grief along with the other widows of Wildcat Ridge after a devastating mine accident takes the life of her husband, Jack, and many others. Forced to find a new husband or be evicted from her home by the unscrupulous mine owner, Mortimer Crane, Rosemary finds unexpected help from Jack’s friend, Miles McGinty, an ex-U.S. Deputy Marshal. Together, they’ll uncover Crane’s deceit that involved her first husband. But McGinty knows more than he’s saying, and Rosemary isn’t certain she can trust another man so soon after losing Jack. More importantly, does she dare open her heart to him?
***
In the following excerpt, Rosemary has gone into the hills in search of an old Spanish mine called The Floriana but has become lost. She stumbles across the path of two unsavory prospectors, Hector and Alvin. It’s here that she meets our hero, McGinty.
Excerpt from Rosemary
Two men rolled in the dirt, locked together like battling bull elk. Another horse stood vigil, minus its rider, who must be the man currently fighting Hector on her behalf. For a split second, she thought it might have been Priscilla’s husband, Braxton, but the man grunting and, unfortunately, losing ground to the likes of Hector, was a stranger to her.
Friend or foe, she couldn’t let Hector win.
“Freeze or I’ll shoot,” she said loudly.
Both men stopped and looked at her.
“Who are you?” she demanded of the stranger.
“McGinty,” he wheezed past the chokehold Hector had on him.
McGinty? That sounded familiar.
“Let him go, Hector,” she demanded, “before I drag you to the marshal and have you locked up.”
A wicked grin spread across Hector’s face. “How you gonna do that? You’re as lost as a whore in church.”
Rosemary inhaled sharply. “You’re a despicable human being, and if you don’t release Mr. McGinty right now, I’ll shoot your foot off.”
Hector chuckled and gripped his arm tighter around McGinty’s neck. The stranger’s face was starting to turn purple.
Rosemary cocked the gun and closed her right eye to line up the sight with her left the way she had practiced with Jack. Without hesitation she fired, the kick from the weapon knocking her backwards with a scream. As she scrambled to her feet, Hector was howling, but Mr. McGinty had managed to free himself.
Alvin ran toward them with a lopsided gait, huffing and sweating. He might be young, but he acted like an old man.
Mr. McGinty grabbed a shotgun from his horse and aimed the firearm at the two prospectors.
“She shot me!” Hector wailed.
Rosemary remained where she was, a terrible trembling overcoming her. Good Lord, I did shoot him.
Alvin bent down to examine his friend’s leg, wheezing as he spoke. “Now, Hector, she barely grazed you.”
“She shot my foot off!”
Alvin shook his head, his mouth buried in the mop of whiskers that hung from his chin. “Nope. The bullet’s in the ground, not yer foot. She made a hole in your trousers, that’s all. I see a tiny speck of blood, but I’m not sure since you’re a mite filthy.”
“Grab her!” Hector insisted. “We’ll take her to Wildcat Ridge and have her arrested.”
“I don’t think so,” Mr. McGinty finally chimed in. “You were chasing her. What did you plan to do when you caught her?”
Hector’s expression turned incredulous. “Who the blazes are you? And how do you know she’s not my wife? Or somethin’?”
Mr. McGinty looked at her and the full brunt of his attention stilled her breath. Before she turned purple herself, she gulped air into her lungs. He was tall and strong and … how on earth did the likes of Hector best this man?
“Are you his wife?” he asked. “Or somethin’?”
Copyright © 2019 K. McCaffrey LLC
Pre-Order Rosemary
Don't miss all the books in The Widows of Wildcat Series
Sweet Historical Western Stories
1884 Utah Territory
Visit the series page here.
Connect with Kristy
Website
Blog ~ Pathways
Newsletter
January 24, 2019
ROSEMARY is available for pre-order!!
By Kristy McCaffrey
My contribution to the Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series is Rosemary, Book 11, and it’s almost here!!
Rosemary Brennan struggles with grief along with the other widows of Wildcat Ridge after a devastating mine accident takes the life of her husband, Jack, and many others. Forced to find a new husband or be evicted from her home by the unscrupulous mine owner, Mortimer Crane, Rosemary finds unexpected help from Jack’s friend, Miles McGinty, an ex-U.S. Deputy Marshal. Together, they’ll uncover Crane’s deceit that involved her first husband. But McGinty knows more than he’s saying, and Rosemary isn’t certain she can trust another man so soon after losing Jack. More importantly, does she dare open her heart to him?
A sweet romance set in 1884 Utah Territory.
Can be read as a standalone.
Read first 3 chapters here
Pre-Order Rosemary
In this additional excerpt from Rosemary, she and McGinty have just had a run-in with Mortimer Crane, leading to an unorthodox marriage proposal.
McGinty flicked his gaze to Rosemary, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed red. She was a woman who bore a second look, and a third, if he was being totally honest, but he could tell that he’d just surprised the life out of her.
He took a deep breath and pushed away from the door, entering the house and facing off against this blustery man that was pushing Rosemary around. Miles hadn’t liked it, and he’d quickly crossed a boundary that he shouldn’t have with a woman he barely knew, but he couldn’t stand by and let her lose everything. He would help her in any way he could. He owed that much to Jack.
Hell, I owe Jack my life. The least I can do is protect his widow.
“I believe we’re done here,” Miles said. He was taller than Crane, and he stepped close enough to intimidate the man. “I’ll meet you at the bank tomorrow. We can settle up then.”
Crane took a step back. “This is ridiculous. Anyone can see that this is a sham. I won’t allow it.”
Rosemary found her voice. “You did tell the widows that we had until the end of the summer to settle our debts with you. And you also said that if we had a husband then we could keep our businesses. Plenty of widows witnessed this offer. We could take you before a judge and let him decide.”
McGinty pressed forward and Crane finally had had enough. He stepped around Miles and planted his hat atop his head. “I’ll see you at the bank at eight o’clock sharp. You haven’t settled the debts yet.” He gave a scurrilous glance at Rosemary. “This is far from over.”
Crane departed, and Miles shut the door.
When he faced Rosemary, she looked as she had after she’d shot Hector.
“What on earth just happened?” she asked.
“My apologies for my forwardness. I didn’t really think it through, except that I wanted to pound some salt into that man.”
“You’re not the only one.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
She moved to the table, and Miles quickly pulled out a chair so that she could sit. He took a seat opposite her.
She clasped her hands on the yellow tablecloth decorated with tiny blue flowers, looking serene, almost as if she were about to chastise a child. She had nice hands—feminine, with slender fingers.
“First, while I appreciate your offer to help, I can’t accept it. Second, you may have just made an enemy of Mortimer Crane, and I hope that it doesn’t cause you any trouble. Third—”
He held up his hand. “Please don’t concern yourself with my welfare. I’ve met men like him before. I can handle it. And I hope that you will consider my offer.” He paused. “I really would like to help you, Rosemary.”
“But … marriage? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to be married. At least, not again. Not so soon. And you’re such a nice-looking man and still young and strong. You will certainly want to be wed one day to a woman who loves you.”
Her compliments washed over him, a boon in an otherwise strange conversation. In truth, he’d never thought much about matrimony. He’d never met a woman worth changing his routine for. But Rosemary …
“I owe Jack,” he continued. “Let me help you. You can be my wife in name only. I would never ask you to betray your love for Jack.”
“But why would you do that? It seems so much to ask of you.”
“In the short time I’ve known you, Rosemary, one thing is clear.”
Her expression held a shadow of skepticism.
“You’re a stubborn woman.”
Her brows lifted, conveying her surprise.
To stave off the likelihood that he’d insulted her, he quickly added, “The fact that you went into the hills alone—I’m guessing you were searching for The Floriana Mine to salvage your situation. Rather than leave this town and your heartache behind, you’ve chosen to stay. To fight. For your bliss. I have a lot of respect for that. I can see why Jack fell in love with you.”
She pressed her lips together, and he thought she might start crying.
“But as strong as you are,” he continued, his voice gentle, “it’s never easy going it alone. I have nowhere to be, and I have money. Think of it as an investment. We can square up in the future. And I believe we could annul the marriage at some point.”
The tears poured forth. “I don’t know what to say. It’s true that I’m at my wit’s end. I have a tiny amount of money, but it’s not enough to survive. I have friends, and I could stay with them for a time in town, but that’s not a long-term plan. My father ….” She wiped her cheeks with her hands. “I can’t go to him.” She took a deep breath. “I will pay you back for everything. I insist. All right?”
He nodded. “We can draw up an agreement, if you like.” He wasn’t practicing great business smarts at the moment, but he’d been saving money for several years now with no plan for it. So perhaps this was the plan, a fate direct from above.
And as he looked across the table at Rosemary Brennan, widow to Jack—a young man for whom he’d felt a deep responsibility—a sense of purpose and rightness filled him. For the first time in his life, the urge to keep moving abandoned Miles. Maybe he could even let go of his need to find Shady Briggs.
And then there was that twinge in his heart, wanting something it shouldn’t. Something that made no sense.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to help her.
And a small part of him wanted her.
Copyright © 2019 K. McCaffrey LLC
Don't miss all the books in the series!!
Visit the Amazon series page here.
My contribution to the Widows of Wildcat Ridge Series is Rosemary, Book 11, and it’s almost here!!
Rosemary Brennan struggles with grief along with the other widows of Wildcat Ridge after a devastating mine accident takes the life of her husband, Jack, and many others. Forced to find a new husband or be evicted from her home by the unscrupulous mine owner, Mortimer Crane, Rosemary finds unexpected help from Jack’s friend, Miles McGinty, an ex-U.S. Deputy Marshal. Together, they’ll uncover Crane’s deceit that involved her first husband. But McGinty knows more than he’s saying, and Rosemary isn’t certain she can trust another man so soon after losing Jack. More importantly, does she dare open her heart to him?
A sweet romance set in 1884 Utah Territory.
Can be read as a standalone.
Read first 3 chapters here
Pre-Order Rosemary
In this additional excerpt from Rosemary, she and McGinty have just had a run-in with Mortimer Crane, leading to an unorthodox marriage proposal.
McGinty flicked his gaze to Rosemary, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed red. She was a woman who bore a second look, and a third, if he was being totally honest, but he could tell that he’d just surprised the life out of her.
He took a deep breath and pushed away from the door, entering the house and facing off against this blustery man that was pushing Rosemary around. Miles hadn’t liked it, and he’d quickly crossed a boundary that he shouldn’t have with a woman he barely knew, but he couldn’t stand by and let her lose everything. He would help her in any way he could. He owed that much to Jack.
Hell, I owe Jack my life. The least I can do is protect his widow.
“I believe we’re done here,” Miles said. He was taller than Crane, and he stepped close enough to intimidate the man. “I’ll meet you at the bank tomorrow. We can settle up then.”
Crane took a step back. “This is ridiculous. Anyone can see that this is a sham. I won’t allow it.”
Rosemary found her voice. “You did tell the widows that we had until the end of the summer to settle our debts with you. And you also said that if we had a husband then we could keep our businesses. Plenty of widows witnessed this offer. We could take you before a judge and let him decide.”
McGinty pressed forward and Crane finally had had enough. He stepped around Miles and planted his hat atop his head. “I’ll see you at the bank at eight o’clock sharp. You haven’t settled the debts yet.” He gave a scurrilous glance at Rosemary. “This is far from over.”
Crane departed, and Miles shut the door.
When he faced Rosemary, she looked as she had after she’d shot Hector.
“What on earth just happened?” she asked.
“My apologies for my forwardness. I didn’t really think it through, except that I wanted to pound some salt into that man.”
“You’re not the only one.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
She moved to the table, and Miles quickly pulled out a chair so that she could sit. He took a seat opposite her.
She clasped her hands on the yellow tablecloth decorated with tiny blue flowers, looking serene, almost as if she were about to chastise a child. She had nice hands—feminine, with slender fingers.
“First, while I appreciate your offer to help, I can’t accept it. Second, you may have just made an enemy of Mortimer Crane, and I hope that it doesn’t cause you any trouble. Third—”
He held up his hand. “Please don’t concern yourself with my welfare. I’ve met men like him before. I can handle it. And I hope that you will consider my offer.” He paused. “I really would like to help you, Rosemary.”
“But … marriage? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to be married. At least, not again. Not so soon. And you’re such a nice-looking man and still young and strong. You will certainly want to be wed one day to a woman who loves you.”
Her compliments washed over him, a boon in an otherwise strange conversation. In truth, he’d never thought much about matrimony. He’d never met a woman worth changing his routine for. But Rosemary …
“I owe Jack,” he continued. “Let me help you. You can be my wife in name only. I would never ask you to betray your love for Jack.”
“But why would you do that? It seems so much to ask of you.”
“In the short time I’ve known you, Rosemary, one thing is clear.”
Her expression held a shadow of skepticism.
“You’re a stubborn woman.”
Her brows lifted, conveying her surprise.
To stave off the likelihood that he’d insulted her, he quickly added, “The fact that you went into the hills alone—I’m guessing you were searching for The Floriana Mine to salvage your situation. Rather than leave this town and your heartache behind, you’ve chosen to stay. To fight. For your bliss. I have a lot of respect for that. I can see why Jack fell in love with you.”
She pressed her lips together, and he thought she might start crying.
“But as strong as you are,” he continued, his voice gentle, “it’s never easy going it alone. I have nowhere to be, and I have money. Think of it as an investment. We can square up in the future. And I believe we could annul the marriage at some point.”
The tears poured forth. “I don’t know what to say. It’s true that I’m at my wit’s end. I have a tiny amount of money, but it’s not enough to survive. I have friends, and I could stay with them for a time in town, but that’s not a long-term plan. My father ….” She wiped her cheeks with her hands. “I can’t go to him.” She took a deep breath. “I will pay you back for everything. I insist. All right?”
He nodded. “We can draw up an agreement, if you like.” He wasn’t practicing great business smarts at the moment, but he’d been saving money for several years now with no plan for it. So perhaps this was the plan, a fate direct from above.
And as he looked across the table at Rosemary Brennan, widow to Jack—a young man for whom he’d felt a deep responsibility—a sense of purpose and rightness filled him. For the first time in his life, the urge to keep moving abandoned Miles. Maybe he could even let go of his need to find Shady Briggs.
And then there was that twinge in his heart, wanting something it shouldn’t. Something that made no sense.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to help her.
And a small part of him wanted her.
Copyright © 2019 K. McCaffrey LLC
Don't miss all the books in the series!!
Visit the Amazon series page here.
January 2, 2019
Marley The Rescue
By Kristy McCaffrey
Happy 2019! One year ago today, my family and I rescued an older dog named Marley. I thought I'd share my story with you all.
Marley
I’ve always been a dog person. My heart is forged with memories of my canine companions throughout my life: Rommell, Raquel, Buckwheat, Chaco, Shiva, Sparky. Gone but never forgotten. One thing I had never done, however, was rescue a dog in jeopardy. I’d thought about it, of course. Like many of you, I’m an empathic person, which is probably why I like to write stories, but it was that very trait that always filled me with anxiety just thinking about visiting the pound or a rescue shelter. The suffering of so many is a crushing reality that is difficult to bear some days.
Rommell
Raquel
Buckwheat and Rommell
Chaco
In October 2017, we lost our beloved chocolate Labrador, Ranger. Although he’d had health issues for a number of years, his loss was still sudden and devastating. One week after his 13th birthday, we were forced to put him down from a broken leg due to bone cancer. I wasn’t prepared for the grief that hit me. I had lost dogs before; I knew how it went. But Ranger had been different. I had promised him I would take care of him. In the end, though, I couldn’t. Something happens in your soul when you must break a promise—a terrible schism of guilt.
Ranger
My husband and I had long talked of rescuing older dogs, knowing how difficult it was for these animals to find a loving home, but it’s a bittersweet goal—just when you bond with them you’re likely to lose them. But if I’ve learned anything while raising four children, it’s this: you must do what is best for them, not what’s best for you. I knew this was also true when it came to helping a dog in need.
Last January, my husband traveled to Finland to help our oldest daughter move to Helsinki for a semester abroad. While I was home on my own, I watched the news one evening, and a very brief story about several dogs needing a home caught my eye. The owner was about to be evicted and the animals would be sent to the pound. The prospects for an older male Labrador mutt weren’t good. The next morning, I called the man trying to help re-home the dogs. He ran a local animal rescue in the Phoenix area, but this wasn’t a normal rescue situation. If I could come immediately to pick up the dog, he would give him to me. I jumped into the car and went, feeling trepidation at driving alone into an unknown neighborhood in downtown Phoenix, but something compelled me.
When I met Marley, I knew he had a strong will to live. The woman who had previously owned him had died ten months prior, and it was her daughter who was desperately trying to find a home for him. Her mother had had such a soft spot for animals that she’d regularly picked up strays off the streets. Marley had been such a stray, born somewhere on the streets of Phoenix, so his age was unknown (the estimate was between 9-12 years old). The daughter had had 24 canines to find homes for, and Marley was one of the last. She’d been doing the best she could to care for him, but Marley was undernourished with overgrown toenails and hadn’t been to the veterinarian in years. I put him in my car and drove him home.
Marley right after I put him in my car. He really took it all in stride, I have to say.
That first week was tough. Marley was sweet and quite affectionate, but it was a new home with a new routine and I had to work diligently with him. I got him to the vet immediately and we addressed the most pressing issues (the toenails, bloodwork, vaccinations, etc.). But he was too weak for a tooth cleaning. He also wasn’t neutered, although at his advanced age I wasn’t certain I would proceed with it anyway. I also sobbed frequently because bringing Marley home had triggered a new wave of despair over losing Ranger. It took me a bit to work through that. I also sent my husband—still in Finland—a long and heartfelt email explaining what I’d done and begging him not to be upset with me. His response was so supportive that I wept over that, too. I married the right guy.
Initially, I fed Marley three times a day.
Eventually, he gained weight and embraced his new life of freedom (he’d been crated for much of the year before he was rescued, and possibly longer). We have a dog door, so he quickly mastered going into the backyard whenever he wanted. He has arthritis, but he’s gained stamina with frequent short walks, and later I put him on a low dose of pain medication to manage his discomfort. He enjoys treats and toys, and although he initially had little interest in playing with our other dog, Lily, they have slowly become buddies. But Marley generally prefers us to be nearby if he plays with her. His bouts of anxiety have, thankfully, lessened over time (we discovered that he really likes to chew slippers when he's stressed, so Santa brought him a new pair in his stocking for Christmas - he loved them!).
Marley and me on Christmas morning.
I don’t know how much time we’ll have with Marley, but I’m content knowing that we’re giving him a peaceful and secure life in his twilight years, filled with fresh air, sunshine, plenty of food, snuggles and kisses.
Follow Marley's adventures on Instagram at @marley_therescue.
Marley and Lily
Happy 2019! One year ago today, my family and I rescued an older dog named Marley. I thought I'd share my story with you all.
Marley
I’ve always been a dog person. My heart is forged with memories of my canine companions throughout my life: Rommell, Raquel, Buckwheat, Chaco, Shiva, Sparky. Gone but never forgotten. One thing I had never done, however, was rescue a dog in jeopardy. I’d thought about it, of course. Like many of you, I’m an empathic person, which is probably why I like to write stories, but it was that very trait that always filled me with anxiety just thinking about visiting the pound or a rescue shelter. The suffering of so many is a crushing reality that is difficult to bear some days.
Rommell
Raquel
Buckwheat and Rommell
Chaco
In October 2017, we lost our beloved chocolate Labrador, Ranger. Although he’d had health issues for a number of years, his loss was still sudden and devastating. One week after his 13th birthday, we were forced to put him down from a broken leg due to bone cancer. I wasn’t prepared for the grief that hit me. I had lost dogs before; I knew how it went. But Ranger had been different. I had promised him I would take care of him. In the end, though, I couldn’t. Something happens in your soul when you must break a promise—a terrible schism of guilt.
Ranger
My husband and I had long talked of rescuing older dogs, knowing how difficult it was for these animals to find a loving home, but it’s a bittersweet goal—just when you bond with them you’re likely to lose them. But if I’ve learned anything while raising four children, it’s this: you must do what is best for them, not what’s best for you. I knew this was also true when it came to helping a dog in need.
Last January, my husband traveled to Finland to help our oldest daughter move to Helsinki for a semester abroad. While I was home on my own, I watched the news one evening, and a very brief story about several dogs needing a home caught my eye. The owner was about to be evicted and the animals would be sent to the pound. The prospects for an older male Labrador mutt weren’t good. The next morning, I called the man trying to help re-home the dogs. He ran a local animal rescue in the Phoenix area, but this wasn’t a normal rescue situation. If I could come immediately to pick up the dog, he would give him to me. I jumped into the car and went, feeling trepidation at driving alone into an unknown neighborhood in downtown Phoenix, but something compelled me.
When I met Marley, I knew he had a strong will to live. The woman who had previously owned him had died ten months prior, and it was her daughter who was desperately trying to find a home for him. Her mother had had such a soft spot for animals that she’d regularly picked up strays off the streets. Marley had been such a stray, born somewhere on the streets of Phoenix, so his age was unknown (the estimate was between 9-12 years old). The daughter had had 24 canines to find homes for, and Marley was one of the last. She’d been doing the best she could to care for him, but Marley was undernourished with overgrown toenails and hadn’t been to the veterinarian in years. I put him in my car and drove him home.
Marley right after I put him in my car. He really took it all in stride, I have to say.
That first week was tough. Marley was sweet and quite affectionate, but it was a new home with a new routine and I had to work diligently with him. I got him to the vet immediately and we addressed the most pressing issues (the toenails, bloodwork, vaccinations, etc.). But he was too weak for a tooth cleaning. He also wasn’t neutered, although at his advanced age I wasn’t certain I would proceed with it anyway. I also sobbed frequently because bringing Marley home had triggered a new wave of despair over losing Ranger. It took me a bit to work through that. I also sent my husband—still in Finland—a long and heartfelt email explaining what I’d done and begging him not to be upset with me. His response was so supportive that I wept over that, too. I married the right guy.
Initially, I fed Marley three times a day.
Eventually, he gained weight and embraced his new life of freedom (he’d been crated for much of the year before he was rescued, and possibly longer). We have a dog door, so he quickly mastered going into the backyard whenever he wanted. He has arthritis, but he’s gained stamina with frequent short walks, and later I put him on a low dose of pain medication to manage his discomfort. He enjoys treats and toys, and although he initially had little interest in playing with our other dog, Lily, they have slowly become buddies. But Marley generally prefers us to be nearby if he plays with her. His bouts of anxiety have, thankfully, lessened over time (we discovered that he really likes to chew slippers when he's stressed, so Santa brought him a new pair in his stocking for Christmas - he loved them!).
Marley and me on Christmas morning.
I don’t know how much time we’ll have with Marley, but I’m content knowing that we’re giving him a peaceful and secure life in his twilight years, filled with fresh air, sunshine, plenty of food, snuggles and kisses.
Follow Marley's adventures on Instagram at @marley_therescue.
Marley and Lily
December 3, 2018
Guest Post: My Easy-Bake Christmas by Patti Sherry-Crews
Please welcome author Patti Sherry-Crews to my blog today. I had the pleasure of working with Patti on the recently released A CHRISTMAS COWBOY TO KEEP. Her wonderfully romantic contribution, COUNTING DOWN TO CHRISTMAS, features cookie-making. Read more about Patti's inspiration for the story.
By Patti Sherry-Crews
I remember when I was a young mother how excited I was to carry forward all the holiday traditions I’d grown up with. Baking cookies and other treats at Christmas being one of them. And I’d been given all my grandmother’s and mother’s bakeware! I have quite a collection.
I baked and baked and baked, going through more pounds of butter in a month’s time than I did the preceding eleven months of the year. Sadly, I quickly learned nobody was going to eat all those cookies and cakes except for me— valiantly devouring sweets the best I could. Those pounds of butter looked attractive on my derriere.
I stopped baking almost entirely, and that decreased with children moving out, combined with new requests for gluten-free, no-carb, vegan, low-sugar, and dairy free foodstuffs.
But I still have all these wonderful cookie cutters and tins, and even though I didn’t use them to bake anymore, they still are a presence. Just seeing them brings so many memories and people back to me.
So every year they come out. I string the cookie cutters along garlands, make chandelier type arrangements out of evergreen wreaths and dangle the cookie cutters off of them. I make little tableaus of my gingerbread house mold and my Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer jelly mold. I get as much pleasure out of thinking of new ways to display my collection as I do seeing them.
Pieces from my Collection of Holiday Bake Wear on Display, Including Rudolph “Jello Mold” and Gingerbread House Mold
When I wrote my story, Counting Down to Christmas in the set A Christmas Cowboy to Keep, I knew there had to be a cookie decorating scene. And knowing how much these family keepsakes mean to me, I spent time on sites like Pinterest and Etsy trying to track down my own cookie cutters and bakeware, sometimes even finding images of some in their original packaging.
What I found out was that I have a collection spanning back through decades of family history starting with my own additions like my Ugly Christmas Sweater and gigantic snowflake cookie cutters.
1960’s: the copper cookie cutters including Santas, reindeer, and snowmen. Also the mini animals which we always used for shortbread, but as it turns out were actually from a child’s playset called “Little Mothers Cooky Cutters.”
1950’s: The aluminum one-piece angels, etc., the melamine marbleized camel and elephant and other circus characters in salmon pink, and the red transparent gingerbread men.
1930’s: All the cookie cutters with mint green or red painted wooden handles.
A Sampling of the Cookie Cutters Used by my Family
It turns out my Rudolph jello mold was actually once part of an 8-piece cake set from 1939. Robert May, the man who wrote the song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, held the copy-write for the set. Incidentally, he lived in my town, and I went to school with his daughter.
The 8 Piece Cake Set. I Found my “Jello” Mold!
Another odd piece I’m fond of displaying is my gingerbread house mold. It’s not a kit like you see nowadays where you piece together flat sections of gingerbread with frosting. My mold makes a solid gingerbread cake. It came out in the year I was born, 1958.
Gingerbread House Mold and the Mini Copper Animals in their Original Packaging
And even though I don’t own this cowboy cookie cutter it has a special place in my story. Read the excerpt below to see how this guy brings out the Christmas spirit in a Christmas Grinch.
One Special Cookie Cutter for One Special Cowboy
An excerpt from Counting Down to Christmas
Leland looked at the racks of cooling cookies set out over the table, along with bowls of colored icing and decorative sprinkles. The women were already at work spreading icing on the cookies and setting them on waxed paper. He grabbed one off the rack nearest to him and sat down.
His mother slapped his hand. “Wait until we decorate them, please. In fact, why don’t you give us a hand?”
“What? You want me to decorate cookies?”
“You used to love to do that.”
“When I was six.”
Melody wrinkled her nose with distaste. He ignored her and picked through the old hat box full of cookie cutters. He pulled out one and his heart leaped with joy.
“Mustang Muldoon!” He cried out before he thought about it.
* * *
The delight in his voice took Melody by surprise. Her hand stilled in the middle of reaching for another cookie to decorate. She looked up at Leland and witnessed a transformation in his face. He held an ancient-looking cookie cutter. His eyes were crinkled and sparkling, a contagious grin spread across his face.
“What is that?” she couldn’t help but ask, pointing to the vaguely humanoid shape in his hand.
He flicked a look of annoyance in her direction. “He’s a cowboy, of course.”
“Oh, you used to love making cowboy cookies!” Alma picked up a cookie and handed it to him. “Why don’t you decorate him for me.”
Melody studied the blob-shaped cookie with a pointed head. “That’s a cowboy? I don’t see it.”
“The cookies do lose some detail when you bake them,” said Alma.
“Doesn’t look like a cowboy...” Leland rolled his eyes. “You have to decorate it the right way, that’s all. Ma, remember how we used to make the fringe on his chaps?”
“We used chocolate jimmies. I think I have some in the pantry.” Alma got up from the table.
Melody studied Leland as he hunched over to spread white frosting on his cookie. His hair had flopped over his forehead and he was biting his bottom lip in concentration. She could see the small boy in him, and a sudden warmth washed over her heart, which she quickly dismissed.
COUNTING DOWN TO CHRISTMAS
is available in
A Christmas Cowboy To Keep
on
Amazon
About Patti
Patti Sherry-Crews lives in Evanston, Illinois, with her husband, one bad dog, and one good cat. She is a mother of three grown children and about to become a grandmother for the third time this winter. She is an award-winning author who writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction as well as historical western and medieval romances.
By Patti Sherry-Crews
I remember when I was a young mother how excited I was to carry forward all the holiday traditions I’d grown up with. Baking cookies and other treats at Christmas being one of them. And I’d been given all my grandmother’s and mother’s bakeware! I have quite a collection.
I baked and baked and baked, going through more pounds of butter in a month’s time than I did the preceding eleven months of the year. Sadly, I quickly learned nobody was going to eat all those cookies and cakes except for me— valiantly devouring sweets the best I could. Those pounds of butter looked attractive on my derriere.
I stopped baking almost entirely, and that decreased with children moving out, combined with new requests for gluten-free, no-carb, vegan, low-sugar, and dairy free foodstuffs.
But I still have all these wonderful cookie cutters and tins, and even though I didn’t use them to bake anymore, they still are a presence. Just seeing them brings so many memories and people back to me.
So every year they come out. I string the cookie cutters along garlands, make chandelier type arrangements out of evergreen wreaths and dangle the cookie cutters off of them. I make little tableaus of my gingerbread house mold and my Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer jelly mold. I get as much pleasure out of thinking of new ways to display my collection as I do seeing them.
Pieces from my Collection of Holiday Bake Wear on Display, Including Rudolph “Jello Mold” and Gingerbread House Mold
When I wrote my story, Counting Down to Christmas in the set A Christmas Cowboy to Keep, I knew there had to be a cookie decorating scene. And knowing how much these family keepsakes mean to me, I spent time on sites like Pinterest and Etsy trying to track down my own cookie cutters and bakeware, sometimes even finding images of some in their original packaging.
What I found out was that I have a collection spanning back through decades of family history starting with my own additions like my Ugly Christmas Sweater and gigantic snowflake cookie cutters.
1960’s: the copper cookie cutters including Santas, reindeer, and snowmen. Also the mini animals which we always used for shortbread, but as it turns out were actually from a child’s playset called “Little Mothers Cooky Cutters.”
1950’s: The aluminum one-piece angels, etc., the melamine marbleized camel and elephant and other circus characters in salmon pink, and the red transparent gingerbread men.
1930’s: All the cookie cutters with mint green or red painted wooden handles.
A Sampling of the Cookie Cutters Used by my Family
It turns out my Rudolph jello mold was actually once part of an 8-piece cake set from 1939. Robert May, the man who wrote the song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, held the copy-write for the set. Incidentally, he lived in my town, and I went to school with his daughter.
The 8 Piece Cake Set. I Found my “Jello” Mold!
Another odd piece I’m fond of displaying is my gingerbread house mold. It’s not a kit like you see nowadays where you piece together flat sections of gingerbread with frosting. My mold makes a solid gingerbread cake. It came out in the year I was born, 1958.
Gingerbread House Mold and the Mini Copper Animals in their Original Packaging
And even though I don’t own this cowboy cookie cutter it has a special place in my story. Read the excerpt below to see how this guy brings out the Christmas spirit in a Christmas Grinch.
One Special Cookie Cutter for One Special Cowboy
An excerpt from Counting Down to Christmas
Leland looked at the racks of cooling cookies set out over the table, along with bowls of colored icing and decorative sprinkles. The women were already at work spreading icing on the cookies and setting them on waxed paper. He grabbed one off the rack nearest to him and sat down.
His mother slapped his hand. “Wait until we decorate them, please. In fact, why don’t you give us a hand?”
“What? You want me to decorate cookies?”
“You used to love to do that.”
“When I was six.”
Melody wrinkled her nose with distaste. He ignored her and picked through the old hat box full of cookie cutters. He pulled out one and his heart leaped with joy.
“Mustang Muldoon!” He cried out before he thought about it.
* * *
The delight in his voice took Melody by surprise. Her hand stilled in the middle of reaching for another cookie to decorate. She looked up at Leland and witnessed a transformation in his face. He held an ancient-looking cookie cutter. His eyes were crinkled and sparkling, a contagious grin spread across his face.
“What is that?” she couldn’t help but ask, pointing to the vaguely humanoid shape in his hand.
He flicked a look of annoyance in her direction. “He’s a cowboy, of course.”
“Oh, you used to love making cowboy cookies!” Alma picked up a cookie and handed it to him. “Why don’t you decorate him for me.”
Melody studied the blob-shaped cookie with a pointed head. “That’s a cowboy? I don’t see it.”
“The cookies do lose some detail when you bake them,” said Alma.
“Doesn’t look like a cowboy...” Leland rolled his eyes. “You have to decorate it the right way, that’s all. Ma, remember how we used to make the fringe on his chaps?”
“We used chocolate jimmies. I think I have some in the pantry.” Alma got up from the table.
Melody studied Leland as he hunched over to spread white frosting on his cookie. His hair had flopped over his forehead and he was biting his bottom lip in concentration. She could see the small boy in him, and a sudden warmth washed over her heart, which she quickly dismissed.
COUNTING DOWN TO CHRISTMAS
is available in
A Christmas Cowboy To Keep
on
Amazon
About Patti
Patti Sherry-Crews lives in Evanston, Illinois, with her husband, one bad dog, and one good cat. She is a mother of three grown children and about to become a grandmother for the third time this winter. She is an award-winning author who writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction as well as historical western and medieval romances.
October 25, 2018
A Brand New Christmas Western Novella!!
I'm so pleased to share my first Christmas-themed story as part of the collection A CHRISTMAS COWBOY TO KEEP.
The weather is cold, the atmosphere is festive, and the cowboys are hot. How do you keep a cowboy at Christmas?
Don’t miss this holiday collection of modern-day cowboys and the women they love, featuring the same USA Today, Amazon Bestselling, and Award-Winning authors from “A Cowboy to Keep,” which garnered 55 reviews with an average rating of 4.5 stars.
CHRISTMAS, LIBERTY, AND THE THREE MINUTE MAN by Carra Copelin
Daniel Dylan Layman is determined to show headstrong city girl Liberty Ann Hart that a country life in Mistletoe, Texas, is the perfect Christmas gift.
A CHRISTMAS CAROLE by Andrea Downing
Carrie Matheson and her son are trying to settle into a new life in Wyoming. Tate Schrugge is trying to ditch his Scrooge and play Santa to the young boy. But will there be a Dickens of a romance by Christmas?
THE PEPPERMINT TREE by Kristy McCaffrey
Lawyer Skye Mallory returns home for the holidays due to an unexpected inheritance, and cowboy Joe Carrigan stands in her way.
THE DEVIL’S CHRISTMAS KISS by Devon McKay
When Kristen Kelly receives a Christmas kiss from Cole Lawson, she doesn’t believe it means anything. But Cole sets out to make things right with the woman of his heart.
SLAY BELLS by Hildie McQueen
At a small-town Christmas festival sparks fly between Carmen Dias and Detective Jared Bowden, but a dead body and a pesky ex-girlfriend don’t exactly spell romance.
THE BEST CHRISTMAS by Hebby Roman
All Sofia Rossi wants is to re-connect with her estranged son. But can Gar McCulloch, a handsome cowboy who runs a juvenile rehab ranch, be the answer to her problems?
COUNTING DOWN TO CHRISTMAS by Patti Sherry-Crews
Wedding planner Melody Evans views happily-ever-after endings with a skeptical eye. Veterinarian Leland Jennings IV thinks Christmas is for kids. Can the holiday spirit bring them together?
Only 99 cents at Amazon or FREE in Kindle Unlimited
Skye Mallory has always aspired to leave her family’s ranch, and she takes pride in having achieved her dream of becoming a lawyer. But when an unexpected inheritance draws her home for the Christmas holidays, she’s surprised by a longing to set down roots in the wide-open meadows and woodlands of southwestern Colorado. Only one thing stands in her way—a cowboy who broke her heart nine years ago.
In high school, Joe Carrigan admired Skye for her spirit and intellect, but he knew she was destined for a life beyond ranching. Turning down her romantic overture was the best course of action for them both. But now, he’s returned to their hometown, and it’s inevitable he’ll come face-to-face with his one regret in life—Skye Mallory. This time, however, he won’t be so chivalrous.
Read Chapter One from THE PEPPERMINT TREE here.
Additional Excerpt
“Do you and Mrs. Mallory want to ride with us?” (Joe asked.)
Skye’s dad shook his head. “Nah. You kids head on over. We might want to leave early, and we wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”
“I’ll be careful on the roads,” Joe assured him.
“It stopped snowing two hours ago, and I’m sure the plows are out clearing the way. But if it gets late and the roads seem icy, then stay put. Don’t risk it.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of her.” Joe hesitated. “Is she here? I wasn’t sure if she still wanted to go.”
Mr. Mallory chuckled. “She’s upstairs. Shouldn’t be long now.”
Skye’s mom breezed into the room, wearing a black gown trimmed with red, her graying hair pinned away from her face.
“You look beautiful, Mrs. Mallory,” Joe said.
She giggled and patted his arm. “Thank you. It’s fun to get dressed up. And I love that the event benefits the women’s shelter. You cut quite the figure, Joey.” She added in a low voice, “You and Skye make such a great couple.”
He didn’t know what to say. The attention shifted to the stairs at the sound of heels tapping on wood. Skye entered and halted abruptly.
There was a pregnant pause while everyone froze in their positions.
In high school, Skye had been on the tomboyish side, her frame more athletic than voluptuous, but it was clear that the ensuing years had rounded out those burgeoning curves. She looked stunning in a maroon dress, revealing an ample swell of her breasts. He flicked his eyes back to her face, aware that he’d been staring.
His mouth went dry. It was like he’d never seen a woman before.
“Is there something wrong?” Skye asked.
“Is that your old prom dress?” Mrs. Mallory’s question caused Skye’s face to pinch into a grimace.
“It was all I could find on such short notice.”
Her makeup accentuated her already creamy complexion, and the dark lipstick put Joe in mind of a temptress.
Bewildered, his mind went blank.
“Shall we go?” she prompted.
He cleared his throat, snapping out of his stupor. “Let me start the Bronco,” he said, feeling a little tongue-tied, “so I can get the heat going.” The double innuendo hung in the air as he headed out the door.
Damn. He was in trouble.
Copyright © 2018 K. McCaffrey LLC
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The weather is cold, the atmosphere is festive, and the cowboys are hot. How do you keep a cowboy at Christmas?
Don’t miss this holiday collection of modern-day cowboys and the women they love, featuring the same USA Today, Amazon Bestselling, and Award-Winning authors from “A Cowboy to Keep,” which garnered 55 reviews with an average rating of 4.5 stars.
CHRISTMAS, LIBERTY, AND THE THREE MINUTE MAN by Carra Copelin
Daniel Dylan Layman is determined to show headstrong city girl Liberty Ann Hart that a country life in Mistletoe, Texas, is the perfect Christmas gift.
A CHRISTMAS CAROLE by Andrea Downing
Carrie Matheson and her son are trying to settle into a new life in Wyoming. Tate Schrugge is trying to ditch his Scrooge and play Santa to the young boy. But will there be a Dickens of a romance by Christmas?
THE PEPPERMINT TREE by Kristy McCaffrey
Lawyer Skye Mallory returns home for the holidays due to an unexpected inheritance, and cowboy Joe Carrigan stands in her way.
THE DEVIL’S CHRISTMAS KISS by Devon McKay
When Kristen Kelly receives a Christmas kiss from Cole Lawson, she doesn’t believe it means anything. But Cole sets out to make things right with the woman of his heart.
SLAY BELLS by Hildie McQueen
At a small-town Christmas festival sparks fly between Carmen Dias and Detective Jared Bowden, but a dead body and a pesky ex-girlfriend don’t exactly spell romance.
THE BEST CHRISTMAS by Hebby Roman
All Sofia Rossi wants is to re-connect with her estranged son. But can Gar McCulloch, a handsome cowboy who runs a juvenile rehab ranch, be the answer to her problems?
COUNTING DOWN TO CHRISTMAS by Patti Sherry-Crews
Wedding planner Melody Evans views happily-ever-after endings with a skeptical eye. Veterinarian Leland Jennings IV thinks Christmas is for kids. Can the holiday spirit bring them together?
Only 99 cents at Amazon or FREE in Kindle Unlimited
Skye Mallory has always aspired to leave her family’s ranch, and she takes pride in having achieved her dream of becoming a lawyer. But when an unexpected inheritance draws her home for the Christmas holidays, she’s surprised by a longing to set down roots in the wide-open meadows and woodlands of southwestern Colorado. Only one thing stands in her way—a cowboy who broke her heart nine years ago.
In high school, Joe Carrigan admired Skye for her spirit and intellect, but he knew she was destined for a life beyond ranching. Turning down her romantic overture was the best course of action for them both. But now, he’s returned to their hometown, and it’s inevitable he’ll come face-to-face with his one regret in life—Skye Mallory. This time, however, he won’t be so chivalrous.
Read Chapter One from THE PEPPERMINT TREE here.
Additional Excerpt
“Do you and Mrs. Mallory want to ride with us?” (Joe asked.)
Skye’s dad shook his head. “Nah. You kids head on over. We might want to leave early, and we wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”
“I’ll be careful on the roads,” Joe assured him.
“It stopped snowing two hours ago, and I’m sure the plows are out clearing the way. But if it gets late and the roads seem icy, then stay put. Don’t risk it.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of her.” Joe hesitated. “Is she here? I wasn’t sure if she still wanted to go.”
Mr. Mallory chuckled. “She’s upstairs. Shouldn’t be long now.”
Skye’s mom breezed into the room, wearing a black gown trimmed with red, her graying hair pinned away from her face.
“You look beautiful, Mrs. Mallory,” Joe said.
She giggled and patted his arm. “Thank you. It’s fun to get dressed up. And I love that the event benefits the women’s shelter. You cut quite the figure, Joey.” She added in a low voice, “You and Skye make such a great couple.”
He didn’t know what to say. The attention shifted to the stairs at the sound of heels tapping on wood. Skye entered and halted abruptly.
There was a pregnant pause while everyone froze in their positions.
In high school, Skye had been on the tomboyish side, her frame more athletic than voluptuous, but it was clear that the ensuing years had rounded out those burgeoning curves. She looked stunning in a maroon dress, revealing an ample swell of her breasts. He flicked his eyes back to her face, aware that he’d been staring.
His mouth went dry. It was like he’d never seen a woman before.
“Is there something wrong?” Skye asked.
“Is that your old prom dress?” Mrs. Mallory’s question caused Skye’s face to pinch into a grimace.
“It was all I could find on such short notice.”
Her makeup accentuated her already creamy complexion, and the dark lipstick put Joe in mind of a temptress.
Bewildered, his mind went blank.
“Shall we go?” she prompted.
He cleared his throat, snapping out of his stupor. “Let me start the Bronco,” he said, feeling a little tongue-tied, “so I can get the heat going.” The double innuendo hung in the air as he headed out the door.
Damn. He was in trouble.
Copyright © 2018 K. McCaffrey LLC
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October 11, 2018
New Release - A Murder of Crows
Book 3 releases today!!
Hallowtide has never been scarier in the Old West! The Crow Series features a trio of bounty hunter brothers descended from a Scottish/Comanche lineage. Jack, Callum, and Kester ("Kit") Boggs fight the darker forces of the night while aiding the women they can't live without. Each short novella is only 99 cents or free in KU.
The Crow and the Coyote
The Crow and the Bear
A Murder of Crows
Bounty hunter Kester “Kit” Boggs, along with his brothers, tracks and destroys the vilest of men, both from this world and the next. With a Scottish and Comanche lineage, his connection to the supernatural is tied directly to the crow. For too long, he’s been hunting El Viejo del Saco, a demon known as The Bag Man who feeds on the blood of children. A rumor leads Kit to the Mexican frontier, where he must find a man called Hamish Kerr. But with Hallowtide descending, Kit has lost his ability to hear spirits, and his only hope is a woman whose family is a sworn enemy to the Boggs’ clan.
Eliza McCulloch’s ancestors hail from Scotland, her clan carrying an ancient curse and a warning—a McCulloch may never bind herself to a Boggs. When Eliza learns that Hamish Kerr stole her family’s book of spells, the McCulloch Grimoire, nearly two decades ago, she sets out to reclaim it. Often called witch, she possesses a unique skill to open doorways to the other side. But when she finds herself beholden to a Boggs for protection, her abilities take an unexpected turn.
As Kit and Eliza unearth far more than a stolen book, they must work together if they are to survive. But with the past pushing into their future, can they resist the growing desire between them? Is it possible for a Boggs and a McCulloch to find lasting love? Or will defeating the demon separate them forever?
Excerpt from A Murder of Crows
“There are more of you?” Eliza asked.
Kester gave a nod. “But I’m currently alone.”
“Would you help me, Mister Crow?”
“Like I said, you can call me Kit. Why are you looking for Kerr?”
“Unfinished business.”
“Why would you get into bed with a Boggs?” He immediately regretted his choice of words, not only from the withering look Eliza cast upon him, but also because bedding her was a desire that had taken residence in his head, and he doubted it would leave anytime soon.
A Boggs is never to touch a McCulloch.
Kit set his jaw. It was definitely Granny in his ear. Hell of a time for her suddenly to confide in him. He bristled at the smug authority in her tone, transporting him back to his boyhood when Granny’s exasperation with him inevitably led to a rant.
“Kester, your stubbornness will lead you into trouble. I’m trying to help you. It’s my duty to teach you. Heed my warning, grandson.”
“I’m not offering you my body, Crow,” Eliza said, an edge to her words.
“What are you offering?”
“You’re a hunter of the night. I’ll pay you to help me track down Hamish Kerr.”
Leaning back in the chair, Kit stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle. He almost laughed. This whole thing was going south, and fast. As much as he’d like to help the pretty McCulloch, she had no business going anywhere near Hamish.
“I’m afraid I’ve got my own agenda,” he answered. “You should let this go, and you should leave town as soon as possible.”
Eliza arched an eyebrow. “Let me get this straight. You tell me I’m incapable of handling this myself, but when I ask for your help, you say no.” She shook her head, her look dismissive. “Then I will leave.” She stood.
He immediately came to his feet, blocking her path to the door. “No.”
“You don’t want to bed me, and you don’t want to help me. I think we’re done here.”
How wrong she was on the first count, but he didn’t voice it aloud.
“Get out of my way,” she demanded. “I’ll find Kerr on my own.”
It would seem he wasn’t about to be free of the McCulloch siren after all. And despite the danger, a traitorous part of him was glad for it.
Kit brought his hand to her dark hair and lifted the strands spilling over her shoulder. The awareness between them was palpable. It pleased him that she didn’t pull away.
“Fine.” He watched her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll help you.”
“A McCulloch cannot bind herself to a Boggs,” she whispered, then raised her gaze, renewed once again with a flash of hard determination. “I offered to pay you, not to pleasure you.”
He didn’t bother to hide his grin, which soon turned into a full-on laugh.
Copyright © 2018 K. McCaffrey LLC
Connect with Kristy
Website
Blog ~ Pathways
Newsletter
October 1, 2018
Grimoires and A New Release
By Kristy McCaffrey
A grimoire is a book of magic. It often included instructions on how to create talismans and amulets, how to perform spells, and how to invoke supernatural entities. In many cases, the books themselves were considered imbued with magical powers, not unlike other sacred texts (such as the Bible). The term ‘grimoire’ comes from the French word ‘grammaire,’ which originally referred to books written in Latin. But by the 18th century, it had begun to be used to describe books of magic.
While grimoires are believed to have originated in Europe—the earliest were written on cuneiform clay tablets in ancient Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq)—they have also been found around the world, from Jamaica to Sumatra.
In the 18th century, with the rise of the Enlightenment (a movement devoted to science and rationalism), there was also a persistent belief in magic and witchcraft, and many grimoires were produced during this time.
A grimoire plays a role in my upcoming release A MURDER OF CROWS.
A Short Novella
Only 99 cents
Coming October 11, 2018
Amazon and Kindle Unlimited
Available for Pre-Order
Bounty hunter Kester “Kit” Boggs, along with his brothers, tracks and destroys the vilest of men, both from this world and the next. With a Scottish and Comanche lineage, his connection to the supernatural is tied directly to the crow. For too long, he’s been hunting El Viejo del Saco, a demon known as The Bag Man who feeds on the blood of children. A rumor leads Kit to the Mexican frontier, where he must find a man called Hamish Kerr. But with Hallowtide descending, Kit has lost his ability to hear spirits, and his only hope is a woman whose family is a sworn enemy to the Boggs’ clan.
Eliza McCulloch’s ancestors hail from Scotland, her clan carrying an ancient curse and a warning—a McCulloch may never bind herself to a Boggs. When Eliza learns that Hamish Kerr stole her family’s book of spells, the McCulloch Grimoire, nearly two decades ago, she sets out to reclaim it. Often called witch, she possesses a unique skill to open doorways to the other side. But when she finds herself beholden to a Boggs for protection, her abilities take an unexpected turn.
As Kit and Eliza unearth far more than a stolen book, they must work together if they are to survive. But with the past pushing into their future, can they resist the growing desire between them? Is it possible for a Boggs and a McCulloch to find lasting love? Or will defeating the demon separate them forever?
Don’t miss all the books in The Crow Series
Book 1: The Crow and the Coyote (Jack’s story)
Book 2: The Crow and the Bear (Callum’s story)
Book 3: A Murder of Crows (Kit’s story)
Excerpt from A Murder Of Crows
The door opened, startling Eliza, and Mister Boggs entered. He tossed a pile of clothing at her. “Put this on.”
She quickly sorted through it—a sturdier blouse and skirt, and new undergarments. “Thank you.” It was a kind gesture, considering the tattered state of her current clothing.
His gaze lingered on her, and she felt his interest as clearly as if he had touched her. Kester Boggs did want her.
A flash of warmth bloomed in her face and shot straight to her toes.
Why did she feel a sense of victory? Why did a part of her wonder what would happen if she agreed to the desire in his eyes?
Ambivalence held her rooted in place. She waited for Kester Boggs to be like all men, because surely he was like all men. But her woman’s sense, her witch’s sense, strummed a tune that said he wasn’t.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said. He pulled his Colt and held it out to her.
She stared at his hand, stunned. “What are you doing?”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Yes.” She’d taught herself how to shoot. Her cousins had had little interest in learning about weapons, believing their other skills would keep them safe, but Eliza had always hedged all her bets. It was why she was willing to enter into an agreement with The Crow.
“Take it.”
She grabbed hold of the gun.
“If someone other than me comes in, then shoot.”
Was he seriously giving her his weapon? “But it’s the only gun you have.”
“No.”
“What if I shoot you?”
“Sweetheart, you need to make up your mind. You’re not my prisoner. But if you’re about to go with me into the wilds to find Hamish, then you need to accept that I’m not your enemy.” Amusement glittered in his eyes. “At least, not yet.”
Copyright © 2018 K. McCaffrey LLC
Connect with Kristy
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Blog ~ Pathways
Newsletter
A grimoire is a book of magic. It often included instructions on how to create talismans and amulets, how to perform spells, and how to invoke supernatural entities. In many cases, the books themselves were considered imbued with magical powers, not unlike other sacred texts (such as the Bible). The term ‘grimoire’ comes from the French word ‘grammaire,’ which originally referred to books written in Latin. But by the 18th century, it had begun to be used to describe books of magic.
While grimoires are believed to have originated in Europe—the earliest were written on cuneiform clay tablets in ancient Mesopotamia (modern-day Iraq)—they have also been found around the world, from Jamaica to Sumatra.
In the 18th century, with the rise of the Enlightenment (a movement devoted to science and rationalism), there was also a persistent belief in magic and witchcraft, and many grimoires were produced during this time.
A grimoire plays a role in my upcoming release A MURDER OF CROWS.
A Short Novella
Only 99 cents
Coming October 11, 2018
Amazon and Kindle Unlimited
Available for Pre-Order
Bounty hunter Kester “Kit” Boggs, along with his brothers, tracks and destroys the vilest of men, both from this world and the next. With a Scottish and Comanche lineage, his connection to the supernatural is tied directly to the crow. For too long, he’s been hunting El Viejo del Saco, a demon known as The Bag Man who feeds on the blood of children. A rumor leads Kit to the Mexican frontier, where he must find a man called Hamish Kerr. But with Hallowtide descending, Kit has lost his ability to hear spirits, and his only hope is a woman whose family is a sworn enemy to the Boggs’ clan.
Eliza McCulloch’s ancestors hail from Scotland, her clan carrying an ancient curse and a warning—a McCulloch may never bind herself to a Boggs. When Eliza learns that Hamish Kerr stole her family’s book of spells, the McCulloch Grimoire, nearly two decades ago, she sets out to reclaim it. Often called witch, she possesses a unique skill to open doorways to the other side. But when she finds herself beholden to a Boggs for protection, her abilities take an unexpected turn.
As Kit and Eliza unearth far more than a stolen book, they must work together if they are to survive. But with the past pushing into their future, can they resist the growing desire between them? Is it possible for a Boggs and a McCulloch to find lasting love? Or will defeating the demon separate them forever?
Don’t miss all the books in The Crow Series
Book 1: The Crow and the Coyote (Jack’s story)
Book 2: The Crow and the Bear (Callum’s story)
Book 3: A Murder of Crows (Kit’s story)
Excerpt from A Murder Of Crows
The door opened, startling Eliza, and Mister Boggs entered. He tossed a pile of clothing at her. “Put this on.”
She quickly sorted through it—a sturdier blouse and skirt, and new undergarments. “Thank you.” It was a kind gesture, considering the tattered state of her current clothing.
His gaze lingered on her, and she felt his interest as clearly as if he had touched her. Kester Boggs did want her.
A flash of warmth bloomed in her face and shot straight to her toes.
Why did she feel a sense of victory? Why did a part of her wonder what would happen if she agreed to the desire in his eyes?
Ambivalence held her rooted in place. She waited for Kester Boggs to be like all men, because surely he was like all men. But her woman’s sense, her witch’s sense, strummed a tune that said he wasn’t.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said. He pulled his Colt and held it out to her.
She stared at his hand, stunned. “What are you doing?”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Yes.” She’d taught herself how to shoot. Her cousins had had little interest in learning about weapons, believing their other skills would keep them safe, but Eliza had always hedged all her bets. It was why she was willing to enter into an agreement with The Crow.
“Take it.”
She grabbed hold of the gun.
“If someone other than me comes in, then shoot.”
Was he seriously giving her his weapon? “But it’s the only gun you have.”
“No.”
“What if I shoot you?”
“Sweetheart, you need to make up your mind. You’re not my prisoner. But if you’re about to go with me into the wilds to find Hamish, then you need to accept that I’m not your enemy.” Amusement glittered in his eyes. “At least, not yet.”
Copyright © 2018 K. McCaffrey LLC
Connect with Kristy
Website
Blog ~ Pathways
Newsletter
August 30, 2018
Labor Day Sale!! @McCaffreyKristy #romancebooks
I've got two books on sale this holiday weekend.
Blue Sage by Kristy McCaffrey
What do you do when a woman literally lands at your feet?
Braden Delaney has taken over the family cattle business after the death of his father, but faced with difficult financial decisions, he contemplates selling a portion of the massive Delaney ranch holdings known as Whisper Rock, a place of unusual occurrences. The sudden appearance of a pretty relic-hunter while he’s collecting his livestock, however, is about to change his mind.
Archaeologist Audrey Driggs arrives in the remote wilderness of Northern Arizona for clues to a life-altering experience from her childhood. When she rolls off a mountain and lands at the feet of rugged cowboy Braden Delaney, it’s clear she needs his knowledge of the area to complete her quest. But if she tells him the truth, will he think she’s crazy?
Together, they’ll uncover a long-lost secret.
This long novella was previously published in the anthology A COWBOY TO KEEP.
AMAZON
NOOK
iBOOKS
KOBO
GOOGLE PLAY
* * * * * *
Book 4 in the Wings of the West Series.
Can be read as a standalone novel.
The Blackbird by Kristy McCaffrey
Bounty hunter Cale Walker arrives in Tucson to search for J. Howard “Hank” Carlisle at the request of his daughter, Tess. Hank mentored Cale before a falling out divided them and a mountain lion attack left Cale nearly dead. Rescued by a band of Nednai Apache, his wounds were considered a powerful omen and he was taught the ways of a di-yin, or a medicine man. To locate Hank, Cale must enter the Dragoon Mountains, straddling two worlds that no longer fit. But he has an even bigger problem—finding a way into the heart of a young woman determined to live life as a bystander.
For two years, Tess Carlisle has tried to heal the mental and physical wounds of a deadly assault by one of her papá’s men. Continuing the traditions of her Mexican heritage, she has honed her skills as a cuentista, a storyteller and a Keeper of the Old Ways. But with no contact from her father since the attack, she fears the worst. Tess knows that to reenter Hank Carlisle’s world is a dangerous endeavor, and her only hope is Cale Walker, a man unlike any she has ever known. Determined to make a journey that could lead straight into the path of her attacker, she hardens her resolve along with her heart. But Cale makes her yearn for something she vowed she never would—love.
A steamy historical western romance set in 1877 Arizona Territory.
2015 Laramie Award ~ BEST in Western Romantic Fiction
Don’t miss all the books in the series~
The Wren: Book 1
The Dove: Book 2
The Sparrow: Book 3
The Blackbird: Book 4
The Shiny Penny: Short Story, Book 4.1 (available exclusively to newsletter subscribers)
Song Of The Wren: Short Novella, Book 4.2 (available exclusively to newsletter subscribers)
The Bluebird: Book 5
Echo of the Plains: Short Novella, Book 5.5
AMAZON
NOOK
iBOOKS
KOBO
GOOGLE PLAY
Blue Sage by Kristy McCaffrey
What do you do when a woman literally lands at your feet?
Braden Delaney has taken over the family cattle business after the death of his father, but faced with difficult financial decisions, he contemplates selling a portion of the massive Delaney ranch holdings known as Whisper Rock, a place of unusual occurrences. The sudden appearance of a pretty relic-hunter while he’s collecting his livestock, however, is about to change his mind.
Archaeologist Audrey Driggs arrives in the remote wilderness of Northern Arizona for clues to a life-altering experience from her childhood. When she rolls off a mountain and lands at the feet of rugged cowboy Braden Delaney, it’s clear she needs his knowledge of the area to complete her quest. But if she tells him the truth, will he think she’s crazy?
Together, they’ll uncover a long-lost secret.
This long novella was previously published in the anthology A COWBOY TO KEEP.
AMAZON
NOOK
iBOOKS
KOBO
GOOGLE PLAY
* * * * * *
Book 4 in the Wings of the West Series.
Can be read as a standalone novel.
The Blackbird by Kristy McCaffrey
Bounty hunter Cale Walker arrives in Tucson to search for J. Howard “Hank” Carlisle at the request of his daughter, Tess. Hank mentored Cale before a falling out divided them and a mountain lion attack left Cale nearly dead. Rescued by a band of Nednai Apache, his wounds were considered a powerful omen and he was taught the ways of a di-yin, or a medicine man. To locate Hank, Cale must enter the Dragoon Mountains, straddling two worlds that no longer fit. But he has an even bigger problem—finding a way into the heart of a young woman determined to live life as a bystander.
For two years, Tess Carlisle has tried to heal the mental and physical wounds of a deadly assault by one of her papá’s men. Continuing the traditions of her Mexican heritage, she has honed her skills as a cuentista, a storyteller and a Keeper of the Old Ways. But with no contact from her father since the attack, she fears the worst. Tess knows that to reenter Hank Carlisle’s world is a dangerous endeavor, and her only hope is Cale Walker, a man unlike any she has ever known. Determined to make a journey that could lead straight into the path of her attacker, she hardens her resolve along with her heart. But Cale makes her yearn for something she vowed she never would—love.
A steamy historical western romance set in 1877 Arizona Territory.
2015 Laramie Award ~ BEST in Western Romantic Fiction
Don’t miss all the books in the series~
The Wren: Book 1
The Dove: Book 2
The Sparrow: Book 3
The Blackbird: Book 4
The Shiny Penny: Short Story, Book 4.1 (available exclusively to newsletter subscribers)
Song Of The Wren: Short Novella, Book 4.2 (available exclusively to newsletter subscribers)
The Bluebird: Book 5
Echo of the Plains: Short Novella, Book 5.5
AMAZON
NOOK
iBOOKS
KOBO
GOOGLE PLAY
July 22, 2018
DEEP BLUE is on sale!! Enter my giveaway!! #sharkweek @mccaffreykristy
Every year, I avidly watch SHARK WEEK on the Discovery Channel. I knew one day I would write a book about sharks and share my passion for the ocean. And that dream finally came true when I released DEEP BLUE earlier this year. So, in honor of Shark Week, my shark book baby is on sale. All this week, digital copies of DEEP BLUE are only 99 cents.
Underwater filmmaker Alec Galloway is hired to produce a documentary of Dr. Grace Mann freediving with great whites, but can he keep her safe when her passionate focus on the sharks just might get her killed?
Learn more and read Chapter One here.
“… like shark week in a book …” ~ Rachel H., reader
“An…engaging tale…” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“… a compelling dance between two very likeable characters …” ~ D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
“… vivid and realistic …” ~ Romancing the Book
“A hunky filmmaker and great whites, what’s not to love?” ~ Lynne Bryant, InD’tale Magazine
And be sure to enter my giveaway!! (U.S. residents only.) 12 chances to win.
Prizes include:
Shark Week mug
Shark Week totebag
"We're gonna need a bigger boat" totebag
"My spirit animal is a great white shark" Large t-shirt
Great White Shark baseball cap
Shark corn-on-the-cob holders
"You're gonna need a bigger boat!" blank notebook
DEEP BLUE totebag
2 print copies of DEEP BLUE
2 $10 Amazon gift cards
Click here to enter.
Winners chosen July 30, 2018.
Author Kristy McCaffrey
Kristy McCaffrey writes western historical and contemporary romances. She and her husband live in Arizona with their two dogs. Visit her online at kristymccaffrey.com.
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