Delilah Devlin's Blog, page 303

Happy Birthday to Me! (Giveaway)

My Facebook is blowing up already this morning with good wishes. Thank you, all! How does one celebrate her own birthday in a public way? I’d look foolish singing “Happy Birthday” to me, so instead, I’ll keep this easy…

I’ll give away the gifts. For everyone who posts a birthday wish below, I’ll give away a free shorty. All you have to do is post your wish (and thank you very much in advance!), post your short story preference (link below to the page), and leave your email address in the comments. Happy Birthday from me to you!

Choose a story from this page!

(All excerpt “Invite Me In”)

Psst! And how about giving me a gift? See the “Follow My Blog” on the left? Sign up!

 

Nearly halfway through 2017! (Contest)

Can you believe it?!

I’m staring at what remains of 2017 and wondering where the hell the time flew! Did the year crawl for you or blur as it flashed by? Seeing as we’re almost to the midpoint, I thought I’d go ahead and post my list of stories I’ve published thus far in 2017, as a reminder—there’s a lot for you to peruse. Granted many of these are “reissued” stories for which I received rights from Ellora’s Cave or Samhain. So, if you’ve been following me a while, you’ve already read them. But there are new stories interspersed…

My personal favorites from among these?

  

  

This is the complete list of all my releases, January through June 2017…

01/10/17 – STEPBROTHERS STEPPING OUT: ULTIMATE COLLECTION, Box Set 
01/24/17 – RIDE A TEXAS COWBOY, reissue
01/31/17 – SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT, Texas Billionaires series
02/14/17 – HARD SEAL TO LOVE, Uncharted SEALs series
02/19/17 – FUN WITH DICK AND JAYNE, reissue
03/11/17 – BEGGING FOR IT, reissue
03/24/17 – SWEETER THAN HONEY, reissue
03/28/17 – STEPBROTHER’S STEPPING OUT: WITH HIS SEAL TEAM-4, short story
03/31/17 – SADDLED, reissue
04/18/17 – RAW SILK, reissue
04/11/17 – WHO’S YOUR DADDY, Texas Billionaire Club series
04/18/17 – BAD TO THE BONE, Night Fall series
05/06/17 – UNBRIDLED, Lone Star Lovers series, reissue
05/10/17 – STEPBROTHERS STEPPING OUT: WITH HIS SEAL TEAM-4, short story
05/16/17 – UNFORGIVEN, Lone Star Lovers series, reissue
05/20/17 – NERD’S BLIND DATE, short story
05/27/17 – JANE’S WILD WEEKEND, reissue
06/02/17 – FOUR SWORN, Lone Star Lovers, reissue
06/08/17 – BIG SKY SEAL, Uncharted SEALs series
06/13/17 – BLUE COLLAR, Boys Behaving Badly series
06/16/17 – BREAKING LEATHER, Lone Star Lovers series

Contest

Real easy… Have you read any of my 2017 releases? Which did you like best?

Comment below for a chance to win a small Amazon.com gift card!

Kris Norris: Iron Will (Giveaway)

GIVEAWAY

In honour of my upcoming release, Iron Will, I’d like to do a giveaway. In order to entre, just comment with your favourite Wild West movie below. I’ll choose a winner at random. Winner can either get a copy of Iron Will when it releases mid July, or can choose a book from my backlist. I’ll announce the winner on here on Sunday night.

The Wild West…

Note… Iron Will is an MMF novel, where the men interact.

Sheriffs, Marshalls, Gunslingers. Men who were tough as nails, in a land just as rough. The heroes of the old west aren’t strangers. Hollywood has given us more hot men than we can count. Sam Elliot. Clint Eastwood. Robert Redford, Paul Newman, Leonard DiCaprio, Kurt Russell… the list is endless. But today, I want to talk about the ladies.

Being a woman in 1890—wow, now that would have been an adventure. And far more difficult than it is today. Modern technology aside—while women still don’t have true equality in many aspects, can you imagine what it was like for those brave women who traveled first by wagon train, then later by stream train, to make a new life? The battles and resentment they faced if they dared to dream of a life outside the social norm?

Maybe that’s why most of my leading ladies from my old west books are on the fringes. Doctors, Marshals, Gunslingers… they not only brave the wilds of the landscape, but the views and beliefs of the people around them. Female doctors often traveled thousand of miles just to get work—places so desperate for any kind of medical training that they’d hire a woman because no man would take the job. And once there, often every new case was another test they needed to pass, or be asked to leave.

But they persevered. Forged new territory for those of us who followed, regardless of our occupation. We all have some pretty big shoes to fill…maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to that era, and why I keep coming back to the courageous men and women of the 1890s.

In my upcoming release, Iron Will, my leading lady has one advantage. Those tough-as-nails heroes I mentioned? Dr. Hollis Chambers is lucky enough to have two larger-than-life men that realize she’s their mate. Did I mention they’re bear shifters? And that they’re in the midst of trying to finish a railroad? But if they think she’s going to be easy to tame…they’re about to meet their toughest match.

Here’s a bit more about it and a quick excerpt.

Iron Will

Cullen James…

I’m not a patient man. It’s not a secret. I don’t hide this quality, and I don’t care if people don’t like it. I’m trying to build a railroad, not win a contest. I don’t do contests, because when I see something I want, I hunt it down. Whether it’s the bear lurking beneath my skin or just my dominant personality isn’t clear. Not that it matters. Because I get what I want, and there’s nothing I want more right now than Lucas Quinn and Hollis Chambers. Hot. Naked. Laid out before me like a sacrifice. Lucas knows my thoughts, my desires. We’re mates, even if he hasn’t allowed me to consume him. Own him in a way only his mate can. He was waiting. But the wait’s over.

Hollis doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into. We might have handled our initial meeting poorly, but that doesn’t mean we’ll let her go. She belongs to us. Our missing piece of the puzzle we can’t let slip away. She might try to distance herself, but like our bears, we’re relentless. We stalk, we circle, we pounce. We’re going to make her so damn desperate to have us claim her, the only words she’ll be able to shout are, “Yes,” and, “more.” I don’t know if she’s a virgin—don’t really care, because she won’t be once we get out hands on her. And we will. It’s just a matter of time.

The West isn’t the only thing that’s wild in town. And we’re going to use that to our advantage. Let the chase begin.

Check out Kris’s books!

Excerpt

Devil’s Gate rail camp, Southwestern Colorado, 1899

“What the Hell do you mean we lost two more men?”

Cullen James turned, ignoring the way his voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the sheriff’s office as he grabbed his hat, clenching it in one hand as he scrubbed the other down his face. He hadn’t been gone more than forty-eight hours, and somehow they’d managed to suffer another setback, making his job that much harder.

He crushed the growl rumbling through his chest. This day was quickly taking a turn for the worse, and the sun hadn’t even set, yet. That’s when the liquor started talking, making otherwise calm men act like bullies with something to prove. And he couldn’t afford to let a stupid fight over cards or a working girl at the saloon lead to more injuries.

He set his jaw, staring at the man off to his left, wishing his feelings for the guy didn’t lessen some of the anger coursing through his veins, but it was pointless. Just looking at Lucas eased the tight feeling in his chest. Took the edge off the uncertainty gnawing at his gut. “I sent three men on horseback as guards. How did those idiots manage to get themselves shot?”

Lucas leaned against the wall just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his massive chest, one foot braced against the wood paneling. He gave Cullen an arch of one brow as he shrugged. “Dangerous times, Cullen. You know that. For every armed man we send out to stand watch, three more gunmen are waitin’ in the trees, ready to attack whenever the situation looks promisin’. We should consider ourselves lucky. Could have lost the whole damn crew.”

Cullen tilted back his head, fighting the urge to slam his fist into the wall, or drown his anger in a bottle of whiskey. Ten weeks. That was how long they had to finish the damn spur before the heavy mountain snow set in, and if the men weren’t having shootouts in the saloon, the bloody gangs were raiding the town or ambushing crews on their way back from the rail.

He raked a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath when it flopped back into his eyes. “Any others get injured?”

“Not this time. I just happened to show up before those bandits had gotten off more than a couple of rounds each. Managed to convince the gunmen it was in their best interest to leave, though they did manage to help themselves to some of our supplies. But it was just dumb luck I was headed back from the outpost, otherwise we’d be faced with a room full of patients with no one to treat them.”

“What you mean is you’re damn lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”

Lucas grinned. “You almost sound as if you’d miss me.”

“Fuck off. You know what you mean to me.”

Lucas’ gaze dropped to Cullen’s crotch. “You keep promisin’—”

“And you keep turnin’ me down…mate.”

The other man’s shoulders drooped, his smile fading into a thin line. “You know why.”

“You still think we’re missin’ a piece of the puzzle.”

“Not a piece…a third.” He huffed at Cullen’s glare. “Don’t give me that look. I know you sense it, too. If you didn’t, you would have pressed the subject far more than you have.” He released a rough breath. “I’m not saying I’m not your mate. Trust me, my damn grizzly is feeling more than a bit possessive where you’re concerned. It doesn’t like waitin’ anymore than your Kodiak does. But… We both know we have another mate out there. And somehow claimin’ each other first… It doesn’t sit well with either part of me.”

Cullen sighed. Fuck, he hated when Lucas was right. And the man was definitely right. Cullen had known the moment they’d met he was bound to Lucas. His scent, his skin, his sheer presence affected Cullen in a way he’d never experienced before. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d sensed something was off. Lucas hadn’t been lying. The fact they’d been around each other for several months and hadn’t yet given in to the fury involved with mating—that was proof enough. Though damn if the other man didn’t make Cullen want to put that theory to the test. Slam Lucas against the wall and taste that cocky mouth of his. Feel the man’s tongue tangle with his, the hard planes of his body firm against him.

Lucas grinned, the smug tilt only fueling Cullen’s possessive feelings. “I know that look, too. And Hell yeah, I want all of that and more…just as soon as we find that missin’ piece, as you put it.”

Cullen fisted his hands, breathing deeply in the hopes of stemming the fire beneath his skin. Keep his other half from seizing control. A hint of claws scratched at his palms before he managed to pull the animal back—temper it with token promises. Ones he wasn’t sure would ever come true. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to gaze at Lucas.

His mate smiled. “I won’t be able to fight the urge much longer, either. But until my damn bear decides it’s done waitin’…”

Cullen nodded, giving the man a good-natured shove to help calm his beast. “So…do I have a couple of bodies out on the spur I need to tend to? Or did they manage to make it back before succumbing to their injuries?”

“I managed to drag their asses back on the wagons. Wounds weren’t all that bad, but without any form of treatment…they bled out.” Lucas shook his head as he paced to the other side of the room before turning again. “We need a doctor, Cullen. A real one. Not some drunk barber who thinks bleedin’ the men with leeches is the answer to every damn problem that stumbles through his doors. The jackass hasn’t saved a single life since that holier-than-thou physician the company hired packed up his clinic and rode out of here three months ago. And we don’t have the resources to keep replacin’ these men.”

Lucas walked over to him. “Word’s getting ‘round. Everyone knows Buford’s gang is shootin’ up every damn town within a hundred miles of Durango, and rail camps and lines are easy picking—gives them a steady supply of explosives and ammunition. It’s getting harder and harder to find good people to fill these spots. This isn’t a large-scale undertaking like some of our previous jobs. Being privately commissioned as we are means limited funds, which in turn means smaller crews, less support. We can’t afford to lose any more men…not like this. Work’s dangerous enough without worrying a trip to the clinic will kill ya.”

“I’ll send more guards. Ride out myself if I have to.”

“And when one of those bastards clips you with a bullet?”

“Cold day in Hell, my friend. We both know that.”

“Not if half your attention is focused on worrying about how far we got on the line instead of which scraggly bastard is hidin’ behind the next hill.”

“Even if that happened, I’ll heal. We’re not like the others, Lucas, you know that. And I’m far from an easy target.”

“Being a shifter doesn’t make you invincible.” Lucas clasped Cullen’s shoulder. “I suppose we could get a few more of our kind out here, seeing as they wouldn’t really need medical support, but—”

“But that would end in bloodshed of another kind. If we were fully bonded, we could tolerate having other shifters cross over into our territory, but in our current situation…”

Lucas nodded. “I’ll see to the crews. Find more men if we need to, but it won’t mean much without a doctor.”

“You think I haven’t fucking tried?” He stomped across the room, kicking at a chair. It clattered to the floor, the loud sound soothing some of raw feelings burning in his gut. “I’ve requested a replacement every day for the past three months. No one wants the job, simple as that. Hell, they don’t even get off the damn supply train, just stare at the makeshift town through the window and go right on back to Boston or New York or wherever the Hell else they came from. Face it, the kind of man that’d be willin’ to come this far and work in these conditions quit after the war. And these new doctors simply don’t want to make that kind of sacrifice. Not when they can find work in the big cities or established towns. The kind with money and shops and federal marshals.”

“The war’s been over for thirty years.”

“Land’s still tainted with blood. You don’t clean that kind of horror away in a hundred years. The farther we go, the worse it gets.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pushing the damp mass out of his eyes. “I’ll send another telegram. Maybe if they believe the line’s in jeopardy, they’ll find someone who won’t quit before they’ve stepped onto that platform.”

“The line’s always been in jeopardy.”

Cullen scowled when the door squeaked open, the glare of the setting sun streaming through the open space. He raised his hand, shielding his eyes from the light as a dark figure walked through the doorway, a long shadow stretching across the floor.

“Bloody Hell.” Cullen shoved his hat back on, adjusting it low over his forehead. “Shut the damn door before we all go blind and the room fills with dust.”

The floor creaked followed by the slamming of the door. Cullen blinked as the room dimmed, staring at the person standing just inside the doorway. Blue eyes held his gaze, tousled strands of brown hair fluttering around her face. She took a step forward, placing a couple of bags beside the door before removing a black Stetson and shaking out a mass of long hair across her shoulders. It disappeared down her back, the lazy curls bouncing as she settled her weight on one foot, the other tapping restless against the wooden floor. Her oilskin jacket covered her body, the open section in the front displaying a white shirt and tan trousers. He didn’t miss the belt slung low over her waist, or the twin handles resting against her hips.

Cullen gave her body a long slow sweep, then focused on her face. “Can we help you?”

She glanced between the men then stepped over to him, the hollow echo of her footsteps ringing through the room. “They told me I could find a Mr. Cullen James in here.”

Cullen smirked. “Guess that depends on whether you’re here to help me or issue a duel.”

Her lips quirked, a hint of a smile lifting one corner. “I try to avoid killin’ people unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She rocked on her heels, seemingly uncertain before tilting her head. “Mr. Gilmore sent me. The name’s Hollis Chambers.”

Cullen glanced at Lucas, but the man merely shrugged. Shit. Cullen really didn’t have time for journalists or whatever this woman had to offer. He motioned to his partner. “This is Lucas Quinn, the resident sheriff. Now, with all due respect, Miss Chambers, it’s been one Hell of a day. Raidin’ parties are attackin’ my crews, and I’ve got a barber who thinks he can cure men by bleedin’ them dry. I really don’t have time for riddles.”

Her expression never faltered. “Sounds like you have more than a few issues at Devil’s Gate so I’ll get straight to the point. Mr. Gilmore hired me to fill that position you’ve had vacant for some time.”

“Position?”

She reached into an inner pocket, removing a telegram. “I believe this will clear things up for you.”

Cullen took the paper, unfolding it before holding it up. He read through the short sentences, his gaze rising to hers once he’d finished. He gave Lucas a sideways glance before crossing his arms over his chest, her telegram still clenched in one fist. “Are you serious?”

Those perfect lips quirked again as humor crinkled her eyes. “Do I look as if I’m jokin’?”

He snorted, handing the paper to Lucas, smiling when the man had a similar reaction. Cullen nodded at her. “So, you’re telling me my boss hired you to be the resident doctor? You?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the line of her jaw firming. “Tell me, Mr. James, which part do you find incredulous? That Mr. Gilmore actually found someone to come out to this Hell hole, or that it’s me?”

“Both.”

“I see. Then let me put your fears to rest. Yes, I really am a doctor. I graduated from Philadelphia four years ago, and I’ve been workin’ in small towns and camps just like this one ever since. No, I didn’t travel all this way on a ruse or a whim or to admire the scenery and yes…I know how to use the guns strapped to my hips.” She arched a brow. “Did I leave anything out?”

He resisted the chuckle that bubbled in his chest. “I admire your tenacity Miss Chambers—”

“It’s Dr. Chambers, or Hollis.”

He glanced at Lucas, slowly releasing a harsh breath. “Dr. Chambers—”

“But?” She scoffed at him. “There was definitely a but coming, so…”

“While I’m not saying you aren’t qualified, I’m not sure how well-received you’ll be.”

She smirked. “So you’re saying that the men in this camp would rather die at the hands of a barber pretendin’ to be a doctor than be saved by a woman who really is one.”

It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t miss the piercing tone.

He sighed, leaning back against a desk. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Then the men here have all spent far too much time in the hot sun.” She pointed at the telegram. “None of which matters. I was hired, plain and simple.” She leaned in closer, her breath rustling the edge of his shirt. “And just to make things clear, even I didn’t want to come out this far. It’s no secret how many men you lose on a daily basis, or the risks involved in merely taking the train to get here. There isn’t anyone else willin’ to apply for the job. As it is, Mr. Gilmore had to guarantee my wage for the next three months regardless of whether I stay or not. Thinkin’ it’s in your best interest to show me to the clinic—put me to work.” She straightened, plastering on a sweet smile. “Unless you’d rather have the barber continue on as he has. I know where you can get a whole jug full of leeches for next to nothing.”

Lucas took a step forward, offering her the scrunched paper. “With all due respect, Doc… We can’t force the townsfolk to accept you, regardless of your credentials. Afraid the men that work the rails aren’t quite as forward thinkin’ as other, more refined folks. They tend to think a woman has a certain place.”

She hitched out one hip. “Let me guess. On their backs with their legs spread wide?”

He coughed, glancing at Cullen as if seeking help.

Cullen pushed to his feet. “Right or wrong, it’s the way things are in a rail camp, being they’re so transient. The women that travel with us up the spur are either wives or painted ladies. Maybe a teacher or a seamstress if we get lucky. Other than that…”

Hollis laughed, the tension easing from her body. “I see. Well then, I suppose I’ll just head on over to the saloon. Bide my time until I can catch another train out of here. As I said…I’ve been paid either way.”

She placed the telegram on the desk behind him, giving him one more long sweeping gaze. Then she tipped her hat and spun, making it to the door before looking back at them. “Shame, though. The railroad can’t afford to send you anyone else. Guess that means you’ll need those leeches, after all. Good day, gentlemen.”

Charlotte O’Shay: What is it about weddings? (Contest)

What is it about weddings?

Since June is the traditional month for weddings and because I have two daughters’ weddings within six, yes six! months of each other, I’ve got weddings, if not marriage on the brain.

Besides one of the perks of being a romance author is spending quality time challenging my characters on their ride to happily ever after and a wedding is usually a high point on that journey. Weddings feature heavily in my 3 book City of Dreams series, in fact all 3 standalone stories flow from the wedding that takes place in the first book.

To me, a wedding day is the top of the rollercoaster. After the tick, tick, tick to the top of the coaster, after the anticipation of a life together during the engagement, the getting to know you and the planning, comes that moment.

Now that couple, the bride and the groom are at the pinnacle of the coaster and right then they see the world of possibility before them. The whole exciting, messy, wondrous, scary, exhilarating ride of married life is right there to behold.

And then boom you’re married and the ride has begun. As long married woman I can say the rollercoaster ride is fast. The bumps are unexpected and the lulls can be sweet.

So here it is. On your wedding day, get in the front seat of life with your love, don’t stop holding hands, keep your eyes open and enjoy the ride.

Do you believe in happily ever after? I do.

Do I believe in love at first sight? Not so much. Lust at first sight? Yep.

That instant of connection or spark of something special that leads to love? Absolutely.

How about you? Are you a hopeless romantic? What’s your favorite movie about love?

Are you a Love Actually person? When Harry met Sally? What about Beauty and the Beast? The Terminator? (Don’t laugh, that’s mine.) Or does the whole topic make you queasy?

Let me know in the comments and I will gift a random commenter (US only) with a paperback of my debut spicy contemporary The Marriage Ultimatum published by the Wild Rose Press.

The Marriage Ultimatum

Dead-end job? Dreary apartment? Disastrous love life? Check, check, and check. Toddler who makes it all worthwhile? Absolutely. Juggling work, college, and the care of young Alex was never Sabrina’s plan.

But Sabrina’s dreams are bigger than any curve ball life can throw at her. Her top priority is keeping her small family together, no matter what the cost.

Vladimir Grigory doesn’t believe in dreams. He earned his position at the top of New York’s corporate ladder with his own sweat. His empire is his baby, and he’ll destroy anyone who threatens it. Even the sexy employee who challenges him on every level. When the New York tabloids and the world call him the baby daddy of Sabrina’s son, Vlad believes Sabrina is part of a plot to expose the secrets of his past. He threatens to destroy her future. But since Sabrina has secrets of her own, she has no choice but to agree to Vlad’s marriage ultimatum.

Buy Links: AMAZON | THE WILD ROSE PRESS | BARNES & NOBLE | KOBO BOOKS

Website: Charlotte O’Shay on the web

Facebook: Charlotte O’Shay Facebook

@charlotte_oshay Twitter

Instagram: Instagram

Pinterest: Pinterest

Flash Forward: Four-Gone Conclusion (Contest)

Quick Note: I have a Thunderclap campaign I could use some help with. Don’t know what that is? It’s simple. It’s a chance to blast news about a something you want the world to know about. For me, I want folks to know about my recent release, Big Sky SEAL! It’s easy. Follow the link. In once click, you can set up a social media blast. Just one click. Maybe two—if you don’t mind sending out news on two platforms, like Facebook and Twitter. You don’t even have to think. Just click. And thanks! Follow this link!

* * * * *

I’m bleary-eyed today. Up before dawn—5 AM, to be precise. My dd is heading to Dallas to pick up the oldest from her father after yearly visitation, and I’m babysitting. Can’t wait to see that kid. She’s twelve, loud, and nutty as a fruitcake, but I love her. She’s also the artist of the family. She draws adorable manga-style comics. She’s the quickest to cry, to scream, to lash out…to hug. I feel sorry for the boy who falls for her. She’s so pretty, so I know there will be boys.

I tell her she doesn’t have to grow up. Doesn’t have to even think about leaving home. She can stay forever. She rolls her eyes. Used to be she’d say, “I’ll never leave you, Nina.”

My dd’s house has been a little subdued since she left. One less child. The noise will be back with a vengeance, I have no doubt. But my daughter runs an “Irish” house, so everything’s loud. Which brings me to today’s question…

For a chance to win your choice of one of these

Lone Star Lovers stories, answer me this!

Is your family loud and boisterous? Quick to fight and laugh? Or is your house laid back? Too quiet? I’d love to know!

 

 

Four-Gone Conclusion

Coming July 14th!

Sometimes a cowboy needs a little help—or three brothers—to snare a wife…

Sam Logan’s boys have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear his foster sons won’t settle down without a nudge from him, he issues his challenge. Find a wife…

The oldest, Johnny, already had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker. Sam’s challenge just gave him the gumption to ask her out. However, before he makes his move, the twins kidnap Ellie from under his nose. Now, he has to compete with three brothers for the woman he wants.

Ellie thought her prospects were drying up until Johnny Logan finally untangled his tongue and asked her out. When his brothers kidnap her and take her to the ranch, she’s furious…then intrigued by the thought of four men bent on showing her what being their’s would be like.

Pre-Order Your Copy Here!

Read an excerpt from Four-Gone Conclusion…

“It’s time you boys found yerselves a wife.” Sam Logan made his pronouncement then waited, watching the four younger men seated at the table from the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to wait long for his words to sink in. They exploded in the room with the force of a silent grenade.

Johnny’s jaw closed with a snap, and he laid his spoon down on the scarred oak table. His black winged brows drew together, nearly meeting over his dark eyes as he raised his head.

Sam suppressed a smile. That look could make the toughest hombre gulp, but Sam wasn’t the least bit concerned. Johnny tended to look mean when things changed. His oldest boy hated any kind of change.

If any other man had said what he had, Johnny would have cussed under his breath and aimed a piercing, silencing glare. However, he respected Sam, trusted him as much as he could anyone. That trust and respect were the only things that kept his butt on the bench beside his brother Killian.

For his part, Killian’s eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips twitched. Likely he was amused by Johnny’s reaction and didn’t want to let him off the hook too quickly, but was already lining up all the reasons why Sam’s idea was ludicrous. He was quick that way.

Sam calmly ladled the hearty stew he’d made into his mouth and let his gaze roam to the twins. Jason was coughing into his napkin while Mace gave him “helpful” taps between his shoulder blades.

Mace caught his stare and grinned. “A wife, did you say?”

Sam grunted, ignoring the one word that had caught his son’s attention. “This is the third time this week we’ve had stew,” he murmured. Not to change the subject, but to point out a glaring fact.

“I like stew just fine,” Johnny muttered.

“This house misses a woman’s touch.” There, he’d said it. Sat the big gorilla in the room right at the dinner table. Impossible to ignore.

“Gracie can’t be replaced,” Killian said softly.

The permanent ache next to his heart echoed that truth. Sam nodded. “She’s gone. Three years. I miss her every day. Know you do too. But life goes on. You’re men now. You have an obligation. Ranchin’s a family business. Y’all need families.”

Johnny cleared his throat. “No disrespect intended, Sam, but you didn’t get sons the old-fashioned way.”

“Not because Gracie and I didn’t try. And in the end, we had no regrets. We both loved you all like you was our own.”

“So, you’d rather saddle us with—”

Sam aimed a quelling stare. “Think I felt like Gracie was a noose around my neck?”

“No sir, but…” Johnny’s hands fisted on the tabletop. “Hell, how’re we to find someone like her?”

Sam understood what he meant. Gracie’s passing had left a hole in all their hearts. The boys had loved her. Took to her the very first day he’d brought each of them home. Gracie had been born to be a mother, and she’d showered them all with the things they’d needed most—acceptance and unconditional love.

“Boys, Gracie wasn’t born a rancher’s wife. Truth is, she didn’t know a bull from a cow and damn near poisoned me with the first meals she cooked. But she learned. Find a woman willin’ to learn, one you kin love and who’ll love you back.”

“You said, ‘a wife’.” Mace wasn’t gonna let that slip of the tongue go.

Sam shook his head and gave the twins a faint glimmer of a smile. Those two could always see the humor in any predicament. “Thought I’d give you two options. I know one can’t piss without the other goin’ too. And there are damn few single women to go around these parts. ’Nough said?” When all of them nodded, he cleared his throat. “I’ll be out of town for the next four days. Auction in Abilene. The house is yours.”

 

 

Johnny glanced around the dinner table at his brothers, whose attention had been snared from the first moment Sam had made his firmly spoken pronouncement. They were accustomed to eating quietly, filling their hollow bellies at the end of a long, hard day’s work. Sam’s words echoed in the silence that followed and hung in the air like a sour-smelling cloud. At least to Johnny’s imagination. The thought of taking a wife, keeping a woman around on a permanent basis, made him itch.

The suggestion that they find “a wife” had come out of the blue. But the look on Sam’s face said he’d thought long and hard about it and would brook no arguments. His sly mention that the twins might share one should have been shocking but wasn’t given their recent escapades, as well as the unconventional relationships springing up like chokeweeds all around Two Mule, Texas.

The glint of humor in Killian’s eyes forewarned he was about to say something sly. Johnny grunted and shook his head. Now was not the time to make a joke.

Killian snorted. His lips twisted, but he gave a shrug to indicate he’d behave.

Johnny didn’t like the turn of the conversation, but it was Sam Logan giving the advice. When Sam spoke, which was seldom, they all listened.

After all, they owed Sam everything.

Jason leaned away from Mace and grabbed at the hand that been pounding his back. “Can we draw straws to see who gets saddled with one?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Strange things been happenin’ around this town. Fact is, I don’t care whether you all find one woman to take you on or four. But it’s time for you boys to settle down.”

Johnny knew what this was about. From the flinty glint in Killian’s eyes, he did too. Apparently so did the twins, who shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, cheeks flushing a dull red.

“I’m not sayin’ it was a sin, what you two boys did,” Sam said. “The girl was willin’ and yer young. But word gets around. Decent folks’ll keep their women away from ya. Best to make your move fast before everyone hears the gossip and doors close in your face. This is a hard life. A man needs his comforts. Do I need to say more?”

All four younger men shook their heads.

“No sir,” Johnny muttered. Sam’s pronouncements weren’t suggestions. He folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate. He’d been hungry before his foster father had spoken, but now his food sat like a cold lump in his belly.

A woman. He had to find a woman. He’d offer no arguments. Just like any other chore, he’d get to it with quiet efficiency.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, glaring at the twins as he pushed away from the table. “I have business in town.”

Sam eyed him, then solemnly nodded. “You do indeed. Good luck, son.”

It didn’t take long for the other three to find him. The bathroom door opened as he slicked back his wet hair. Mace sidled inside while Killian leaned against the doorframe and Jason stood behind him with his hands in his pockets.

Mace grimaced as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Think he was serious?”

“When is he not?” Johnny said, keeping his tone even.

“You gonna do it? Just like that? Find yourself a wife?”

Johnny squared his shoulders. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“Because Sam said so?”

Johnny turned and shot out a hand to grip the collar of Mace’s shirt.

Mace met his glare with one of his own. “Didn’t mean it that way, bro. But hell, a wife? Shouldn’t we take our time? Do this thing right? It’s a big damn step.”

Johnny hardened his glare. “You two may have been the ones to draw attention to the problem, but we’ve all done plenty to answer for. If we’ve embarrassed Sam, it’s time we manned up.”

Mace’s lips firmed then he released a deep sigh.

Johnny let him go but stood with his hands fisted on his hips.

“Guess you’re right,” Mace muttered. “So, what’s the plan?”

Why was it they always looked to him for a plan? In this instance, he was the least qualified one to decide. But as always, Johnny gritted his teeth and kept it simple. “We find a woman, someone we all don’t object to, ’cause she’s gonna be underfoot. Then one of us has to marry her.”

“Think it’ll be that easy?”

“’Course not. But since when have we shied away from a challenge?”

“We’ll go in two separate trucks,” Killian said, straightening away from the door. “Cover twice as much ground.”

Johnny turned to the mirror and gave his appearance once last look. Wasn’t much he could do, but at least his hair was combed and his breath was fresh. He glanced over his shoulder as the twins headed down the hallway, laughing and shoving each other toward the stairs. “Don’t know why I’m suddenly scared to death,” he muttered.

Killian laughed. “Yeah, those two with a mission. Boggles the mind.”

The trip into town was made in silence. The way he liked most things. From the corner of his eye he could see Killian glancing his way, like he wanted to say something, but Johnny didn’t give him any encouragement. He was mad as hell it had come to this.

Up to now, they’d had it good. Sure, the work was backbreaking but the ranch was all he had, all any of them had. Sam was planning to leave it to them, but only if they managed to keep out of trouble, learn to ranch, and be good citizens. Learning to ranch had been the easy part. They’d all taken to it like ducks to water, thriving on the physical challenge, learning to rope and ride. Learning how to break a horse to saddle, how to birth a calf.

That had been the simple part. The being good citizens part had been tougher. None of them had had the greatest examples of manhood in their lives to model themselves after. Not until Sam. And Sam had his issues. He was damn near a hermit. Grumpy as hell around other people. Even more so after Gracie had passed away.

Johnny had grown more like Sam than the others, but hadn’t realized it was a problem until it came to dealing with the opposite sex. While the twins and Killian never had any trouble finding willing partners, Johnny had bedded few. His straight stare seemed to scare women away.

And if they weren’t put off with the way he looked at them, he didn’t have a silver tongue. In fact, he couldn’t seem to put two coherent words together, much less figure out a way to put a woman at ease in his company.

Still, he wasn’t all that worried about Sam’s pronouncement. The others would have a better chance of finding a woman willing to take them on. He’d do his duty, give it a try, set an example for the others, but he knew his chances of finding a suitable woman who could overlook his flaws was slim to none. No, he didn’t have an ounce of charm, had two left feet and a face as rugged as a mountain. Given those facts and his history, what woman would look his way and want to make a family with him?

Not that the thought of having children didn’t cause his chest to fill with a lonely ache.

“I could help you, you know,” Killian said, his tone casual.

Too casual. Johnny grunted. “With what?”

“Gettin’ you a wife.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Worry about findin’ your own.”

“It’s not how it works, bro. We’re brothers.”

“We’re not blood.”

“Blood’s not what counts.”

Which was a sorry damn truth they all knew too well. Blood had failed them all.

Johnny cussed under his breath. “How would you help? You gonna chat her up for me? You gonna tell her what a catch I am?”

“Well, you are. You stand to inherit a fourth of the Double Tree. And I’ve seen the way women look at you.”

Johnny snorted.

“You’re not a bad lookin’ guy.

Johnny aimed a blistering glare his way. “You gonna ask me out?”

Killian grinned. “Just statin’ the facts. You’re not hard on the eyes. And you’re tall. Girls like that. And they like your hair. They like you fine until you give ’em that thousand-yard stare like you’re sightin’ down a rifle barrel.”

Johnny gave him his meanest glare. “This isn’t gonna work.”

Killian gave a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll help. What’re brothers for?”

“You’re just hoping I’ll snag a wife and that’ll be the end of it. You’ll be off the hook.”

“Maybe.”

“You think this is funny.”

“Watchin’ you tryin’ to sweet talk a woman—yeah, it’ll be the most fun I’ve had in while. So where do you wanna start?”

Johnny didn’t answer but he passed up the most obvious place. The saloon’s parking lot was already full. Instead, he turned onto Main Street and slowed as he searched for a parking place.

Killian straightened in his seat. “You’re not thinkin’ of Ellie, are you?”

The way Killian said it intimated he thought Johnny had lost his mind. Maybe he had. But she was the first woman he’d thought of when Sam had mentioned the stew. “She can cook.”

Killian gave an exaggerated shudder. “But she’s mean.”

“Should be perfect for me then, don’t you think?”

Killian gave a bark of laughter then crammed his cowboy hat on his head.

Johnny raked his hair with his fingers and wished he’d thought to bring a rubber band to tie it back. However, Killian had said girls liked his long, straight hair. He didn’t know why he’d kept it. It was the one most glaring trait that set him apart from his brothers. The last vestige of the heritage he’d thrown off when he’d run away from life on the reservation.

He trailed behind Killian, who stepped out with a bounce in his step, likely grinning his ass off that Ellie Harker was the first woman who’d come to his mind. What he didn’t know was that Johnny had been working up the courage to ask her out, sitting in the diner week after week, but never quite finding the right way to do it.

Killian pushed through the door of the café. Johnny caught it before it slammed in his face, but didn’t say a word. Already, he could feel his body tensing at the thought of talking to the woman.

She’d taken over the running of Katie’s Diner when Katie’s belly got too big and her husband, Cutter Standifer, had insisted she hire a cook until after the birth of their first child.

Inside, the smell of freshly baked apple pie assailed him, and his belly rumbled loudly. There could be worse things than being hitched to a mean woman, especially when she could cook almost as well as Gracie.

The place was busy. Wade Luckadoo’s girl, a college kid home for the summer with blue streaks in her white-blond hair, glided out of the kitchen with a tray balanced on one hand. “Someone’ll be right with you. Take a seat if you can find one.”

Killian headed to the counter and slid onto a stool then patted the empty one beside him. Johnny felt his face harden to stone, his usual mask in public, as he sat. From this vantage they had a view straight into the kitchen where Ellie was working.

One glance and his body stilled, breath leaving in a quiet sigh. She was a pretty woman, although her looks weren’t flashy like most men might prefer. Pale blonde hair, pretty milk-colored skin, and he didn’t need to see what stretched below. Her well-padded curves were burned into his memory.

Right now, her cheeks were rosy, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. Johnny stared, wondering, not for the first time, whether she’d taste like everything she cooked.

Ellie pushed back a lock of her pale hair that fell over her hazel eyes with the back of her hand and then glanced up. Her startled gaze met his for a second then quickly darted to his brother before falling away.

He kept right on staring, wondering how long it would be before she’d come out to check on the customers first-hand.

Killian leaned toward him to whisper. “See? She was lookin’.”

“She looked at you too. Would have looked at Ole Win’s ugly face if he’d taken a seat right in front of her.”

“But she wouldn’t have blushed.”

“She’s cookin’ over a stove. Of course her cheeks are pink.”

Killian grunted. “You are the stubbornest man I’ve ever known. She’s interested.”

Johnny didn’t like the little thrill of hope that warmed him. No use getting excited when Killian was only trying to warm him up to the challenge. “She looked at you too,” he repeated under his breath.

Killian arched a brow. “We could follow in the twins’ footsteps…”

“I’m not sharin’ a wife with you.”

“Only one of us can marry her, but seein’ as you’re a little stunted in the courtin’ arena, you might need someone watchin’ out for your interests. I can close this deal for you, bro.”

Johnny thought about all the times he’d rehearsed the perfect opening line but sat tongue-tied when Ellie’s attention landed right on him. He might need some help all right. “Say I was to agree to let you help. No one else would have to know?”

Killian’s lips curved in a sly arc. “No one other than Ellie.”

Johnny ground his teeth. “I might need a little help. The woman ties my tongue into a knot.”

“You just do what you always do. Play the silent Injun. Be mysterious. Leave the rest to me.”

Johnny didn’t like it one bit, but he didn’t see another way around it. And the last thing he’d admit to Killian was that Sam’s pronouncement had given him the nudge he’d needed. He’d had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for weeks but hadn’t gotten up the gumption to do anything about it.

He nodded, then instantly regretted agreeing when Killian’s mouth stretched into a wider grin.

“Not a word to the twins,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It’ll be our little secret.”

The kitchen door swung open and Ellie breezed out, a towel over her shoulder and a pitcher of water in her hand. She grabbed two tumblers from under the counter and set one in front of each man. “What can I do for you boys?”

Johnny bristled. No one called him a boy except Sam these days. And the way she said it with that wicked glint in her eyes told him she knew he didn’t like it.

Killian leaned over the counter and tilted back his head. “Sweetheart, how come no one’s married you out from under this place?”

Johnny stepped on Killian’s boot and ground his heel into his brother’s toe.

Killian grimaced but didn’t turn away from Ellie’s narrowing glance.

“Guess I’ve just been lucky,” she said, her tone brisk. “What’ll it be? We’ve got meatloaf and mac tonight.”

“Just pie. Johnny here’s been goin’ on and on about how good your pie is.”

“Has he now?” Her razor glance flicked to Johnny, and he felt its scrape against his cheek. She leaned closer, her face inches from his. “What do you say, cowboy? Want me to top it with cream?”

He gulped at her throaty purr. Not a sound he’d ever heard her make. His dick stirred and his cheeks heated. “Vanilla,” he ground out.

She tsked. “A shame. Not what I had in mind at all.”

His mind went blank for a second. “Um, you meant whipped?”

She gave a wicked chuckle, and his skin burned like fire.

“Now, that’s more like it,” she said, her voice deepening into husky purr again.

Beside him, Killian choked on laughter.

Ellie straightened and raised both brows. “Pie comin’ up. À la mode.” She turned on her heel, but not before he saw a hint of a smile on her face.

“Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” Johnny growled. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”

“She was flirtin’ with you.”

“She knows I can’t get a word out that makes a lick o’ sense around her.”

Killian turned his gaze from the sashay of her pretty bottom. “She knows you’re interested.”

“How long we gotta sit here?”

“’Til this place closes down. Don’t eat that pie too quick.”

“It’ll be soggy.”

“Then get another slice.”

Johnny ducked his head and turned to watch Ellie as she refilled glasses, pausing to share a word or a quick quip. She had a way with her customers. A sassy flare. With her other customers anyway. Most times, she just ignored him. Or teased him, like tonight, until he couldn’t think he was so damn hard.

Her head tilted back in laughter at something a couple said to her, then turned to catch him watching her.

For once, he didn’t let his glance skitter away. He held her gaze, let her note where he looked, and then burned a slow trail down her body.

This time, he saw her throat work around a gulp.

Killian nudged him with an elbow. “Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

Mel Teshco: Why Readers Love Sheikh Romance

Romances might be the best-selling fiction in the world, but what makes a sheikh romance such a popular trope? Cathleen Ross, Mel Teshco and Christina Phillips wrote the Amazon bestselling box set, Taken by the Sheikh and have gotten together once again to write another sheikh romance box set, Taken by the Desert Sheikh.

Mel: Readers love sheikhs, and we love writing them. It’s a win-win.

Cathleen: I love the darkness I can reach into. My sheikhs look sexy on the outside but there is also a lethal side. These made up countries are wild, where it’s survival of the fittest. It’s that element I like to tap in to. I also enjoy writing about a man who rules and has to make hard decisions, like marrying the right woman for the good of his country, then watch them falling in love.

Christina: I love writing the fantasy of the arrogant alpha prince falling hard for his sassy virginal heroine

So why do readers love sheikhs? Let’s explore the reasons!

Readers can’t get enough of alpha males, and a sheikh has more latitude than most heroes to get away with his inner alpha.

I think for readers, they have favorite Sheikh authors and they like to see the different takes of these writers. The stories are purely escapist, which everyone needs to get away from the monotony of real life.

There is something enthralling about being transported to a foreign country with its diverse culture and people. Not to mention the stark landscape of rolling sand dunes and relentless heat, versus the sheer opulence of a sheikh palace with its fountains and pools and priceless furnishings. In these environments, there is also the element of surprise. Anything can and does happen. One moment there is peace and the next danger. In real life this would be terrible, but from the safe confines of a novel, it’s exciting to read.

Imagine being in the heroine’s shoes, taking in the unfamiliar sights, hearing all those new sounds, and coping with the fierceness of a world that is so unlike our own. It’s escapism at its finest. Reading it from the comfort of our armchairs can only be a bonus.

Hot sex. We’re reading about an alpha male here, so the imagined sex is always good. It’s in the love scenes we see the vulnerability of both hero and heroine. The story can’t be all savagery and excitement. There has to be still moments.

And did we mention the hot sex?

Thanks so much Delilah for having us on your blog, it’s been a lot of fun

You can find us here:

Mel Teshco:

Website

Facebook

Newsletter

Cathleen Ross:

Website

Facebook

 

Christina Phillips

Website

Facebook

Newsletter

We’ve also written a naughty stepbrother romance in our Taken series, Taken by the Billionaire.

Three Sheikh brothers, three virgin brides…

The Grand Vizier has a plan to save Qutum…

To prevent a war…three royal brothers must wed

Get your copy here!

First Chapter of Stolen by the Sheikh, by Cathleen Ross…

Sheikh Jamal El-Amin of Qutum welcomed his Grand Vizier, Ahmet Khan. After the man prostrated himself, his forehead touching the cool patterned tiles as was fitting, Jamal rose from his throne, climbed down from the steps, bent and helped the man to rise.

Several gasps echoed around the palace’s waiting chamber.

Jamal narrowed his eyes and glared. “Do not let it be said I treat my people with disdain.” His servants and awaiting dignitaries dropped their gazes. No one dared offend the new ruling prince of Qutum.

“You are too old to continue using such formality, Grand Vizier. A simple bow will suffice.” He took the man under the arm, noting how frail he had become. With the recent death of his father, Sheikh Rafir El-Amin, the services of the Grand Vizier were essential to him and his two brothers if the country was to survive. The Grand Vizier had a network that spread across the country, so complex it resembled a spider’s web. Not even he, Jamal, would attempt to unravel it.

“It was fitting for my ancestors to greet yours in such a manner,” the Grand Vizier replied with dignity. “While I have limbs in my body that continue to bend, I will greet you so, Your Highness.”

Jamal ushered the man to a seat in an adjacent chamber where he could have privacy. “Come, we have much to discuss. What news of the border?”

His Grand Vizier sat and both men were silent as a servant served them spiced tea. With his province bordering Zimbia, which was in upheaval, Jamal could not afford to take the chance of being overheard. Not even by a servant who had worked for his family for many years.

The Grand Vizier leaned forward, concern drawing his ragged eyebrows together, his black eyes glinting. “The insurgents are threatening your province of Nazaar on the border. If we supply arms and money, they will not invade.”

“We will not betray the Sheikh of Zimbia and the rebels would be foolish to bring their fight into the hills of Nazaar.” Still the threat was not lost on him. “And the mood of my people?”

His Grand Vizier averted his gaze for a moment, but gradually he returned to stare at Jamal. “Please excuse my words, Your Highness, for it pains me to utter them.”

“What is it?”

“The border hilltribes are unhappy. They complain of the modern ways enforced by you and your brothers. The tribesmen are resisting your order that their women attend school until sixteen. They want their women married by fourteen.”

“No! Remember what happened to my mother.”

“They think you are too influenced by western ways, especially as…”

Jamal’s hand clenched around the ornate gold-patterned glass because he knew what was to come. “I am not married.”

“And nor are your brothers, Highness. When your blessed father wed your esteemed mother, he was twenty and she fourteen. Three healthy male heirs she produced in six years.”

“Which killed her,” Jamal added, his voice flat. He barely remembered his mother’s face or the caress of her hand. Brought up in a military-style English boys’ boarding school, it wasn’t until he insisted on going to university in England that he had found some anonymity in his life. He’d just finished his extreme military service in the deserts of Qutum. He didn’t intend to give his limited freedom up.

“Every man and woman respected her contribution to the stability of Qutum. A ruler must have heirs.”

“I’m twenty-eight. I have given my people free schools and hospitals. I have fought alongside my brothers to keep Qutum safe. Is that not enough?” Agitated, Jamal scratched at a scar on his arm where a bullet had grazed him.

The Grand Vizier put the delicate, gold-rimmed teacup down. “It is time to marry, Your Highness.”

Jamal scowled. He had no heart for marriage and while he would never admit it, the tribal women with their dark hair and black eyes, their bodies shrouded in black like crows, left him cold. He knew who had ruined him for his own women. Long, leggy, blonde, Araminta York. It wasn’t until sitting next to her at a university lecture in London that he’d learned the hard way that Araminta, with her posh speaking voice and landed gentry background, would not consider dating him. Him. A prince! Yet, over the years, as he worked his way through his engineering degree, she had teased the formality out of him, refused to be impressed by his wealth and eventually allowed him to call on her. He hadn’t cared about anything. Despite all opposition, he’d wanted to marry her, except Araminta was reluctant.

Jamal stood and looked out the window of his palace. In the distance he could see the spires of his mosque and admire the beauty of the old town where the capital city resided, but this could all fall if their border tribes did not remain strong and guard against insurrection.

“I wish to choose my own wife.” Even as he said it he knew his words were folly.

“Highness that cannot be done. Your choice must be a princess of royal blood. ”

“Cannot?” He turned and anger gripped his throat.

His Grand Vizier bowed his head. “I do not wish to displease you, but you have ordered me to tell you the truth when others fear to do so. Your brothers may have more choice if they detest who I have found for them, but it is not so for the eldest son. We have been through this before.”

“So you wish to foist a hilltribe princess on me? I’m surprised there is one after what happened there.” He didn’t want to talk about the massacre that had happened there in the past.

“It is the hilltribes which are the most unruly. A marriage with one of their women would ensure loyalty, just as your mother’s marriage did for your father. If you are seen to follow in the old ways, if your princess is seen to love and obey you and does her duty to produce many sons, then this will appease your people. There is no greater gift than the birth of a male heir.”

“So which princess will have the honor of marrying me?” Jamal glared at the Grand Vizier as he thought of Araminta, now married to a stodgy Englishman, and he was godfather, despite his different faith, to their son.

Jamal’s heart sank. What he wouldn’t give for the right to select his own wife and marry for love. Although he had brought a great many changes to his own country, his hilltribe people stubbornly resisted modernity as much as he enjoyed it. Perhaps the next generation would accept change once they were educated, but they would have no chance if their elders rebelled.

“There is one that may suit you, Your Highness. Her blood is not pure, but she is from the same bloodline as your mother, though distant enough to breed.”

Jamal raised his eyebrows. Trapped, his hand formed a fist. A highly trained soldier, he knew how to fight his way out of situations, but this was not a situation that could be challenged. The Grand Vizier came from a long line of loyal Grand Viziers. While other countries around theirs had suffered insurrections, his had not thanks to this man. It would not be wise to disrespect him. “Who?”

“Lilly Jones.”

“My mother’s older half-sister went by something like that name. I know you’re not suggesting her.” He scowled. He’d never met the woman but he’d been raised on the legend of her warrior-like behavior, the way she had saved the hilltribe people and her devastating betrayal. Her wild and unfitting character had imprinted itself in Qutum folklore. The country had been in an uproar when she’d fled for England and married an eccentric English archeologist.

“That is the infamous Lilliantha Jones who was born from the hilltribe sheikh’s first marriage and much older than your beloved mother. This Lilly Jones is her granddaughter, so although she has some royal blood it is not so close to affect the strength of your lineage. She is twenty-two years old, lives in London and remarkably still a virgin.”

“I will not even ask how you know she is a virgin. Do you keep tabs on all the women in this family?”

“Virginal stock is low since you decided to allow your female cousins to be educated elsewhere. Most of them are already matched since you also permitted them to choose their own partners.”

“I suppose you’re blaming my western values?”

The Grand Vizier fluttered his hands in a helpless gesture but Jamal wasn’t fooled. Still the man had ably run the country while he and his younger brothers were pursuing their educations. But after finishing his undergraduate engineering degree and his Masters in finance two years ago, he had returned to complete his military service and learn to run his country. With his father ailing from kidney disease for five years, he’d had no choice. His death three months ago in a freak helicopter accident had been a shock. Too young at forty-eight. The country was still observing mourning.

“Just how am I to propose to this unknown distant relative?” He motioned to his servant who approached him immediately. “Bring me a whiskey.”

“I could have your secret police bring her here.”

Jamal blinked. “You mean kidnap her?”

“It would mean we risk upsetting the British government when they find out. Lilly’s English grandfather was well connected. He has passed away but the first Lilliantha Jones still lives, though I believe she is incapacitated.” The Grand Vizier took out a tissue and wiped his eyes.

The servant brought Jamal his whiskey and his Grand Vizier looked at it longingly. Damn him. The man could do without. Drinking was a modern vice, and though not outlawed, many did not approve.

He took a long draught, enjoying the burn going down his throat. “I will go to England and inspect this young Lilly Jones. See if I can tolerate her enough to breed with her.”

“There may be a problem. I do not think young Lilly Jones will wish to live in Qutum, Your Highness. Her grandmother raised her since the time she was ten years old after her parents passed away. We know Lilliantha does not respect our beliefs that women should obey the will of their father and their husband.”

Jamal curled his lip at the thought of what lay ahead for him. “I doubt any progeny of the first wild Lilliantha Jones would be obedient. Even now our school children learn about how she saved the Nazaar fort hilltribe from an invading Zimbian sheikh for her ailing father. She was a heroine.”

The Grand Vizier gave a polite cough. “Then turned on him when he tried to make a match with the sheikh in order to bring about peace.”

“Most ungrateful of her,” Jamal said with a grin, knowing if he argued that he admired Lilliantha, the elderly man who was all about duty, would blow a fuse. “Why choose the granddaughter?”

“I think the wildness has bred out. Plus she has some assets Your Highness will appreciate.”

“What do you mean?” Somehow he didn’t think his Grand Vizier was talking about the size of her breasts.

“She is intelligent. Lively. Extremely sporty if one likes such a skill in a wife.” The Grand Vizier sniffed.

“What do you mean sporty?” For a moment, Jamal imagined the muscles of a weight lifter.

“She won awards in gymnastics at school and was president of the rock climbing and canyoning clubs at university. She also rides horses, plays tennis and enjoys a high level of fitness.”

Jamal’s mind boggled. “At least she isn’t a sumo wrestler.”

“There isn’t a sport she cannot do so perhaps that will please you seeing as you are so active. I think you will find her attractive by your standards.”

Jamal narrowed his eyes. He suspected his Grand Vizier knew all about his love for Araminta. There was probably a file somewhere from when his father ruled. “Continue.”

“She has a degree in design and is working for a well-established design company in London. I have ensured that some of her briefs have included doing properties on our island of Mahaba.”

Jamal closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. Although his Grand Vizier’s plan might sound convoluted, it never was. “This is to get her used to dealing with Arabs?”

“She is used to travelling to Mahaba. If she were to be kidnapped from there it would raise less of an issue with the British government seeing as it would not be done on their territory.”

“I will not upset the governor I have placed there with a scandal. Besides, I want to inspect her first.”

“As you wish. You will be aware that your brother Prince Zafar is concerned the insurrection in his neighboring country may spill over into his province. Your youngest brother, Prince Tariq, has the smallest province, which will only remain safe if all three of you stand together, marry and rule as one. The marriages should take place the moment we are out of mourning.” The Grand Vizier fluttered his hands again, clearly knowing he had upset Jamal.

“You want me to force a woman to marry me, who I do not want and who does not want me, to live in a country she does not like. That is a great recipe for happiness.”

“Happiness is not a requirement for a royal match. However, if she is not to your taste, perhaps you could inspect suitable hilltribe women of lesser birth status. I think however, you will enjoy this Lilly Jones.” The Grand Vizier took a dossier out of his briefcase and handed it to him.

Jamal opened the dossier to see a photo of a young woman with a thick fringe of blonde hair cut just above her eyelids and long locks which finished at her waist. Her face was heart-shaped with high cheekbones and she had big expressive blue eyes. What captured him most was her smile and the light in her eyes as if she were sharing a joke with a friend. If there was any Arab ancestry, it didn’t show in her face, though he noticed she had nice breasts on a small but fit-looking frame and long, shapely legs. The type of body a man could really hold on and ram himself in to. His cock stirred under his robes. His Grand Vizier knew his taste all right. She was more delicate than the robust, horse-riding Araminta, but she was definitely his type.

He sat back in his seat. He’d enjoy this challenge. His cock certainly would. “Why alienate the hilltribes on Qutum’s border further at a time when we need to ensure their safety. I will marry someone from their line. I will go to England, entice this girl, bring her here and get a son on her.”

“And if you cannot?”

His lips curved upward in a slow smile. “She will do my bidding one way or the other.”

“The display of strength will satisfy the people. Heal wounds.”

Jamal took a sip of his whiskey. “I am aware of the hilltribe people’s pain. I’m sure they will enjoy the tale of how the granddaughter of the wild Lilliantha Jones was brought to heel.”

“There is one more thing, Your Highness.”

“Of course there is.”

“There is the question of the bridal price. Lilly Jones is somewhat expensive.” The Grand Vizier mentioned the price.

Jamal raised his eyebrows and put down his whiskey glass with a clunk. “I am expected to pay for the privilege of marrying this woman when she has not been trained to our ways nor schooled to obedience? Not to mention she is not a citizen.”

“The marriage cannot be legal if you do not pay. The hilltribe people must be satisfied. The papers must be signed by her tribal head. The marriage will be recognized in Qutum and that is all that matters.”

And no doubt the Grand Vizier would get a cut for arranging the deal. He was, after all, one of the wealthiest citizens after the royal family. “I will pay and sign the papers with the stipulation if Lilly does not produce a royal heir within a year, I will insist on being reimbursed.”

His Grand Vizier stood and bowed. “I am sure you are more than capable of producing an heir, Your Highness, though as to whether Lilly Jones will be compliant I cannot be sure.”

“Once I have an heir, I will set her free.” He hoped this Lilly Jones was obedient and not wild like her grandmother.

He did not want to have to tie her to the bed, though his cock stirred at the thought.

Heather Long: What a Cowgirl Wants (Giveaway)

You always see these posts about cowboys and what they want. Lemme tell you, I’ve been in Texas for years and cowgirls have their needs, too. Cowgirls aren’t just those girls and women who ride horses day in and day out. They live in big cities. They live in suburbia. They live in small towns. They live around big animals—cows and horses. They have cats or dogs, or both. They’re single. They’re married. They have families. They drive a mini or a big truck, they can change their tires or use an Uber. They’re independent, their strong, and they know who they are and what they want.

Cowgirls have always been, and always will be—pioneers. They didn’t need anyone to tell them they were the equal of a man, because they did their share of the work. They can load the shotgun, take out the feed, and bring home the bacon. They do it all with the same deliberate drive they handle everything else: needs must.

That’s right, if it needs doing, she gets it done whether it’s hiring the right person or learning how to do it herself.

So what do these remarkable women want?

She wants the job done, she appreciates hard work and respects those around her who are just as willing as she is to roll up their sleeves and get to it.
She uses big words, little words, real words, and slang. She doesn’t need you to play dictionary or tell her that what she just said didn’t include a real word—if you got the gist, then you understood her.
She wants to eat in peace. She likes her food spicy, with lots of flavor. Burning the roof off her mouth may not be the goal so don’t scoff if she goes for the mild or the medium salsa.
She wants respect. She’s usually skilled at her job, and doesn’t need you to tell her how to do it unless you’re actually training her for a brand new position. In which case, talk to her like she’s an adult and not your sweetie.
She knows her own value, and if she says bless your heart, she knows yours too.
She likes fried foods, she likes salads, she likes fancy coffees, and a good old fashioned glass of lemonade. Don’t mess with her BBQ though, because like jerky—BBQ is its own food group.
She wants a guy who knows all of this, and encourages her to be her while welcoming her as a partner and acts as a partner in return.
She wants you to know, she has her own opinions. When she wants yours, she’ll ask for it.

Julia Heller, my heroine in Semper Fi Cowboy, is a cowgirl through and through. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get the job done. When Tanner Wilks returns to Durango Point, he’s going to have his hands full and he’s just the guy to appreciate what Jules has to offer…if he can prove that to her.

Grab your copy on June 26th! Don’t miss the Goodreads giveaway going on right now!

Goodreads giveaway link: https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...

Lone Star Leathernecks

 Semper Fi Cowboy

A Leatherneck by any other name can still kick ass, which is just what retired United States Marine Corps Captain Tanner Wilks plans to do when he returns to his Texas family ranch to care for his ailing father. And nothing will stop him from achieving his mission—not even a lithe, brown-eyed town veterinarian who seems hell-bent on driving him wild.

Captain Tanner Wilks, honorably discharged from the U.S. Marine Corps, returns home to find his father struggling after his latest heart attack. Worse yet, Julia Heller—the sexy new girl in town that he once spent a hot night with—is the resident veterinarian who’s made a home for herself at Round Top ranch, and doesn’t seem to be in a rush to repeat their time together.

It falls on Tanner’s shoulders to take on the ranch and keep an eye on his father before he falls victim to another heart attack. But Julia doesn’t appreciate Tanner coming in or pursuing her. Even if he’s hot as hell and can make her quiver with just a look. Ousting her may give Tanner the leverage he needs to corral his father, but first he has to wrestle with his own heart.

https://books2read.com/Semper-Fi-Cowboy

About Heather Long

USA Today bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime.

From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family.

She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

Heather is best known for her 18-book paranormal romance series Wolves of Willow Bend, which begins:

Prequel: Wolf at Law

1: Wolf Bite

2: Caged Wolf

3: Wolf Claim

3.5: Wolf Next Door

4: Rogue Wolf

5: Bayou Wolf

6: Untamed Wolf

Heather’s other fantasy romance series include the paranormal westerns Fevered Hearts starting with Marshal of Hel Dorado, Black Hill Wolves, which starts with What a Wolf Wants, Witches of Mane Street, Mongrels, and the upcoming Bravo Team WOLF series.

Her contemporary romance series include: Always a Marine, Going Royal, Elite Warriors, The Love Thieves, beginning with Catch Me and Lone Star Leathernecks, beginning with Semper Fi Cowboy.

Heather is well-represented in fantasy with her her superhero series Boomers, a sci-fi western called Space Cowboy Survival Guide, an urban fantasy series called the Chance Monroe Adventures, and a stand-alone ghost novel titled Haunt Me.

Contact Details:

Website: http://www.heatherlong.net

Email: heather@heatherlong.net

Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/heather-long

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Heather-Long/e/B002BMBCUC/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/HVLong

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/iKxQ5

Excerpt of Semper Fi Cowboy by Heather Long…

Whoever the group was they had talent, and as Tanner studied the newcomers, he focused on a woman who slid over to the bar and drained a glass of water while the musicians found their rhythm. A minute later, she glided back onto the dance floor.

For the next three songs, she traded partners. The woman could move. Tall, long-legged, and beautifully curved, she also had a gorgeous face, from her generous mouth—which pulled into an easy smile—to her sweet, dark eyes. Dark hair clung to her cheeks, and her sleeveless white top gave Tanner a good look at her toned arms.

He didn’t know her. She didn’t even ring a familiar bell, but she sure as hell looked fun. When she waved off a fourth man swooping in for a dance and headed to the bar, Tanner enjoyed the light, strutting cadence to her walk. Someone had taken her spot, so she sidled up to the bar next to him.

Fanning her face with one hand, she gave him a cool, quick grin, then waved at Sully. The bartender slid a glass of water over to her. “You ready for a glass of wine yet, darlin’?”

“In a bit.” She took a long drink of the water. The slender column of her throat convulsed with each swallow, and a fresh wave of lust crashed through Tanner. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to trade places with the glass.

“Put her wine on my tab, Sully,” Tanner called. The number of dance partners and lack of a ring gave him hope she was free. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“No, thank you,” the country goddess declined in a smooth, polite tone. “I’ll take care of my own drinks.”

Sully hid a smirk, but he had other customers.

“No need to be testy, ma’am.” He lifted his beer. “Just offering to buy you a drink.”

“Not being testy at all.” She turned sideways and gave him a once-over. “And you didn’t offer—you just decided to do it, sir.” The cool dismissal didn’t possess an ounce of malice or disrespect. “I simply like to pay my own way, and I never accept offers from strangers.”

“Hard to make an acquaintance if you don’t.” Though he couldn’t fault her. Even the women in his unit or those he’d met on assignment at various bases around the world maintained a sense of control over their environment, both in what they would tolerate from others and what they would accept. “My apologies for overstepping. I’m Tanner, by the way.”

Offering his hand, he waited as she took a beat before wiping her palm against her jeans and then accepting the handshake. “My friends call me Jules.”

“Jules.” Was it short for Julianna? Or Julie? Something else entirely? He liked the sound of it. Maybe it was the beer mellowing him out. Maybe it was being home. Or maybe it was simply watching her, but he wanted to spend some time with Miss Jules.

“Is it all right if I call you Jules?”

“I said my friends call me Jules, you can call me ma’am.” She chuckled, then drained her glass of water and started watching the band. They’d switched to a slow song. Shaking her head, she lifted the hair from the back of her neck. From her flushed cheeks to the gleam in her dark eyes, she was stunning.

“I’d be happy to call you ma’am.” The sentence worked, and Jules returned her attention to him and her eyebrows raised.

“Tell me, ma’am, may I have the next dance?”

Elle James: Ugly Stick Saloon Rides Again!

With the demise of Samhain Publishing, I got all my rights back to my stories based around the Ugly Stick Saloon! Yay! That means, new covers and rereleasing them. I love the Ugly Stick Saloon because it gives my readers a chance to revisit some of their favorite characters, like Audrey and Jackson, Libby and more.  If you’ve never read the Ugly Stick Saloon series, start with Boots & Chaps. I’m releasing all 15 books one month at a time and hope to write a new story in the series next year.  This month’s release is Boots & Bareback, a ménage I think you’re going to love. Stop in and visit with the folks at the Ugly Stick and get to know them!

Boots & Bareback

Amazon | Nook | Kobo | IBooks | GooglePlay

She wants her horse back and will do practically anything to get it, even stripping at a bachelor party…sometimes a girl has to do what she has to do…for the right price….

Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon. Pull up a saddle. Isabella’s gonna take you for a ride, you won’t wanna miss.

To Isabella Severs, men are trouble. Not only was she dumped by her fiancé, the bastard kept the horse she’d raced from a colt. She wants him back. The horse, not the man. Penniless, she lucks into a job working at the Ugly Stick Saloon for tips and a place to stay, determined to put every dollar she makes into buying back her horse. Only her prospects aren’t good, until Old Man O’Brien makes her an offer that could solve all of her problems.

Old Man O’Brien wants grandchildren. To get his grandkids, his sons must marry and have children. Jesse is engaged, but the other three aren’t making any moves toward matrimony. The old man gives them a little push by contracting Isabella to strip at Jesse’s bachelor party. Little did he expect all three of his unhitched sons to fall for the one girl. Sean, Gabe and Tanner weren’t interested in any one girl, until they witnessed Isabella riding the mechanical horse. Temperatures rise with desire and each of the men want to make her his.

Lazy Morning Puzzle

Yes, I’m being lazy today—with this one thing. I don’t have time to blog. I have to edit, edit, edit, or I’ll be late! So, for the third day in the row, I set my alarm at 6:30 to get an early start—and I’m off! Well, as soon as I share this fun little puzzle. The picture you’ll create is for a release coming June 2nd! If you’d like to pre-order, here’s the link:

Link to Pre-Order Mystery Book

Now get to work, me!

Daryl Devoré: She Shimmies On In

I have two passions besides writing—yoga and Raks Sharqi (belly dancing). I’ve talked about yoga on numerous blogs, so today I am going to let my other passion, shimmy.

First off, the Hollywood legend is that belly dancers were harem slaves, and they danced to seduce the Sultan. While part of that may be true—wives in the harem may have danced to seduce the Sultan (who didn’t need much seducing)—that is not the origin of Raks Sharqi. Sometimes, it is called Egyptian Belly Dancing, but that is also based on the Hollywood legend.

I’ll keep this brief—belly dancing is thousands of years old, and it originated all over the Middle East. At parties—yes, the women were segregated from the men, but they were not demeaned. Instead, they talked, ate, sang and danced together, expressing their joy of life and sisterhood. Some women moved from dancing at parties into the professional world, and this is the origins of Raks Sharqi.

Oh, and can I add right now? Belly dancers are not strippers. Clothes are not removed during the performance. Sometimes, a veil is used as a prop, and it may be discarded, but the “costume” remains on. Well, except for the time the hooks on the back of my dance bra popped during a group routine. If you really want the details, ask me.

Every year in May, belly dancers from all over the world participate in Shimmy Mob, dancing in support of women’s shelters or crisis centers. I believe over 170 cities were registered for this year and some cities have more than one team.

What happens is really cool, and you can join in too. Dancers submit videos of dance routines, and one routine is selected. Everyone learns that routine, and then on the appointed day, they flashmob the routine. Dancers from cities all over the world participate, and the routine is danced on city streets, in farmers’ markets, in malls, and even on beaches.

How can you help? Well, first you have to discover if there is a Shimmy Mob chapter in your area, and then sign up. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never danced in your life. The routine is kept simple for beginners or can be mildly adapted if the group is more experienced.

While you are probably going to be nervous going to your first rehearsal, belly dancers are wonderful, accepting women who will greet you with a smile and help you learn the routine. And after your first performance the joy that fills you will be amazing. You will have learned and performed, been accepted into the sisterhood of belly dancers and have supported an incredibly important cause.

Here’s ShimmyMob’s link if you want to check it out. http://www.shimmymob.com/

*~*~*

 Sadly, there’s no belly dancing in my latest hot romance, Darien’s Desire.

It’s complicated is not only her relationship status, but the definition of Erika Bailey’s life. She loves managing her drag queen club in Bangkok, Thailand, but her rock star boyfriend resides in North Carolina. And to top it off, her father threatens she must stay away from Darien or lose the Pink Flamingo. Does she protect her club or her love?

Darien Scott, Grammy award-winning international superstar, wants nothing more than to wake up in the arms of Erika, the woman he loves, but contractual obligations force him to exotic video shoots and an isolated movie set with one of Hollywood’s sexiest stars.

With the feeding frenzy of social media trending every aspect of Darien’s life—real or not—it’s hard for Erika to know the truth. Will she be able to see through the lies and trust Darien? Or will evidence from damaging Internet rumors condemn their relationship?

Pre-order: http://www.extasybooks.com/dariens-desire/

Follow me: @daryldevore