Merry Farmer's Blog, page 6

Weekend Excerpt – Mistletoe and Moonbeams

So we’ve been keeping very hush-hush about this project, but the Wild Western Women are at it again! We’re bringing you a Christmas box set, but not just any box set. All four of the stories by me, Caroline Clemmons, Sylvia McDaniels, and Kirsten Osbourne are set in the same town of Mistletoe, Montana, and they’re all connected! The box set comes out on Tuesday! November 1st, that is. Here’s a sneak peek of my contribution, Mistletoe and Moonbeams….

If she hadn’t had the bar to lean against, Miranda suspected she would have been knocked clear to the ground with the force of Randall Sinclair’s smile. It brought about such a transformation on his handsome, weary face that she caught herself smiling too. It took half a second for her to determine that there was no one else like this man in all of Mistletoe, maybe in all of Montana, although she couldn’t put her finger on whether it was his tailored coat, his high cheekbones and straight nose, or just the air he had about him.

Outside, the flurries were changing over to steadier snow, and it was the smack of the door flapping against the wall as another gust came through that startled the smile off of Mr. Sinclair’s face.

“I’m so sorry.” He rushed to put his trunk down and spun around to shut the door.

“Hold on a second there, sweetheart.” Starla pushed away from the bar with a knowing, teasing grin for Miranda. “I was just about to leave.” Before she did, she leaned closer to Miranda and said, “Just you remember what I said about loosening up and letting miracles happen.”

“He’s a man, not a miracle,” Miranda whispered in return.

Starla laughed. “Honey, in my experience, every man is some kind of miracle.” She ended her statement with a saucy wink and sashayed toward the door.

Mr. Sinclair was still in the entryway, and as Starla reached him, taking a light grey, wool coat from the row of hooks by the door and shrugging into it, he held the door for her with a slightly baffled, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Starla sent a glance in Miranda’s direction, chuckled, and patted Mr. Sinclair’s slightly shadowed cheek as she marched out into the snow.

Mr. Sinclair watched her go, shook his head and shrugged, then closed the door behind her. When that was done, he put his smile back on and strode a few steps deeper into the room. “Like I said,” he began again, “my name is Randall Sinclair, and I come to you today from the…”

His smile vanished once more. His hands dropped to his sides as he looked around the big, empty saloon.

“Oh. You’re closed, aren’t you?”

“In fact, we are.” A hot flush filled Miranda’s face. She tried to shake it away. Why did she feel guilty for stating the obvious to this man?

“My apologies.” Mr. Sinclair sidestepped to his trunk. “I should have known, what with the storm that looks like it’s blowing in. I won’t bother you.”

“It’s all right.” Miranda jumped out from around the bar, throwing down the rag she’d been clutching and wiping her hands on her skirt. “I was closing up early, but I don’t need to. Especially since you look like you could stand to sit down for a minute.” She blinked at the pun in her words, then giggled as her heart thumped hard against her ribs.

Mr. Sinclair looked confused for a moment, then laughed himself, cheeks a merry shade of red. “I get it. Stand to sit. You’re clever.”

A blossom of pleasure filled Miranda’s chest. Although she shouldn’t be so giddy about being called clever when Vicky was called beautiful every twelve minutes.

She shook that thought aside and moved a few steps closer to Mr. Sinclair, more like a hostess at a garden party than a saloonkeeper. “Why don’t you have a seat at one of these tables by the fire? I just added more wood not ten minutes ago, so it should warm you well.”

“That’s mighty generous of you, Miss…?”

“Clarke. Miranda Clarke. How do you do?” She crossed to meet him in the center of the saloon, hand outstretched.

Mr. Sinclair took her offered hand and not only shook it, he bowed over it. Miranda’s brow flew up. Obviously Mr. Sinclair was used to some degree of society. That wasn’t something she’d seen every day in the rugged little town of Mistletoe.

“Miss Clarke,” Mr. Sinclair said, letting her hand go. His smile grew, and a sort of manly mischief filled his eyes. “Say, with a name like Miranda, you don’t happen to have the nickname ‘Randi,’ do you?”

Miranda’s cheeks flushed hotter and her back went stiff. “Only at times when people wish to be nasty to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mr. Sinclair blushed harder, his mischief switching to embarrassment near panic. “It’s just that my closest friends call me Randy too, although with a “y” as opposed to an “i,” which I imagine is the female equivalent of the nickname. I thought it was quaint, is all. Randy and Randi.”

“Oh!” Miranda clapped a hand to her mouth. Not only did a burst of awkwardness threaten to knock her over, but she had suddenly never wanted to be called “Randi” so much in her life. She managed to swallow, pull herself together, and say, “That is an amusing coincidence, isn’t it?”

“It must be fate.” The smile came back to Mr. Sinclair’s eyes. “Of all the saloons in all the towns in Montana, I happened to step into yours for a bit of refreshment after a long, wearying day.”

 

Are you ready for Tuesday??? =D

Going Wide – A Post For My Author Friends

I’m going to start this blog post with the thesis statement. If you read nothing else, read this:

Going wide is not a magic bullet means of staging a protest against Amazon because you don’t like recent KU payouts! It’s a long-term strategy for diversification that requires long-term effort, patience, and above all, a plan.

There. Whew! As long as we understand that, this blog post is going to go well.

I am a firm believer in the idea that it’s better to have as many books in wide distribution as possible than to keep all of your eggs in one basket. Lately, I’ve been hearing more and more of my fellow authors either thanking the heavens that they are and have been wide from day one, or wishing and lamenting that they didn’t owe so much of their career to the mostly fickle whims (and occasional cringe-worthy errors) of The Great and Powerful ‘Zon. Building a career in which your books are available on every platform where readers want to read them is ideal, but there are some definite things to watch out for if you’re about to jump into the wide transition.

THIS: Don’t do it!Courtesy of Madison Gostkowski, via Flickr Creative Commons

Facts are facts. Amazon just IS about 60% of the eBook market. On a good day. Now, that number might be way higher for some and way lower for others, but on average, I think it’s still about 60%. Maybe even more. Honestly, I think for me, Amazon represents about 85% of my book sales. The key is that those are flat-out sales, not page reads that net a fluctuating amount of money based on other people’s page reads or are subject to bizarre technical problems (like the one that seems to be a problem right now). Sales are much more dependable than page reads, and depending on the length of your book, net you more income than all the pages of your book would.

So if you have been exclusive to Amazon and put your books wide, you will no longer collect on page reads, but you will have the steadier income of Amazon’s 70% (or 35%) royalty rate per buy.

Sounds obvious, but I feel the need to state it. Because one key factor to consider in the decision to take your books into wide distribution is to do a little math and figure out if the total income from your page reads is more or less than, say, 15% of your sales royalties. If the amount you are making on page reads is less than 15% of what you’re making overall for royalty sales, you might not find yourself screaming at the end of the month when all the sales numbers come in.

Different genres perform differently on different devices. As a general rule, historical and sweet do better on Amazon, and contemporary and spicy do better in wide distribution. Though my recent personal observations are that they all do about the same on Barnes & Noble. (But B&N these days is a whole other, weird story). If you’re a sweet historical western writer, you might find yourself with a bit of an uphill struggle if you’re going wide. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.

I have a theory about why this is the case. It has to do with audience demographics. Amazon has made Kindle eReaders really affordable. You can get a Kindle Fire for about $50 if you catch a promo. Conversely, iPads cost around $399 for the cheap models these days. Barnes & Noble has sort of given up on the Nook—although you can get one for about $129—and are pushing Samsung tablets, which start at $139, on their site. You can get a Kobo eReader for as little as $89, but Kobo does most of its business in Canada and other English-speaking countries. Things being what they are, in a general sense, readers who love sweet and historical books are often from more rural areas and have tighter budgets, whereas readers who indulge in the steamy contemporary stuff tend to be from more urban areas where people are into flashy gadgets.

That’s a HUGE generalization, btw. Another factor in Amazon’s market dominance is that they started the eBook revolution and have strategically marketed Kindles for years more than the competition. Plus, if iPad owners are anything like me, they spend more time playing games on those puppies than reading books.

So whether everything I’ve heard and am assuming is gospel truth or not, the facts remain—sweet and historical do well on Amazon, steamy and contemporary to well everywhere else.

Courtesy of Susan Schultz, via Flickr Creative Commons

If you build it, they will come…as long as you put a LOT of effort into getting them to go there. Which of course is the thing that everyone wants to know the most about and figure out. How do you get readers to find your books on other platforms besides Amazon?

Man, I wish I had a perfect answer for that! I can only start by telling you what other platforms don’t quite have the same way Amazon does—algorithms. Sure, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo (and maybe Google Play, but I know virtually nothing about them because their pricing policy scares the *%#^$%#! out of me) DO have “Also Bought” sections, but I don’t know if they work quite the same way as the ones on Amazon do. They have categories that you can search through, but books don’t end up ranking the same way they do at Amazon, and for some of those sites, searching through the categories is an exercise in frustration.

So if you can’t rely on the sites themselves to position your books in such a way that readers can find them, how do you get readers to find them?

In a way, the answer is “The same way you get readers to find them on Amazon.” Through targeted promotions, newsletters, and Facebook ads. You have to target them specifically for each of the other retailers, though. For example, with a Facebook ad, you’ll want to have a specific Facebook ad that targets iBooks readers (or B&N or Kobo, etc.) and you’ll want to make those links available. And as with everything else, scoring a BookBub ad with links to all of those retailers does wonders for your visibility on those platforms. Same goes for those other promotional sites and newsletters.

Now, there’s one new thing that Kobo is doing that may or may not end up being helpful there. They’ve recently started beta-testing a promotions tab, which will lead to select books being featured on a special page on their site. It’s something you have to ask them for, though. My friend Angela Quarrels wrote a whole blog post about that, so I’ll send you over to her. (P.S. Her post is part of an entire series about, you guessed it, going wide!) But I can tell you that I emailed them, they put me in the program, and I have my first test in those waters at the end of November. I’ll let you know how that goes!

One other thing that is probably going to get me in deep trouble with someone… If you happen to find yourself at a conference and are able to set up an appointment with the iBooks rep, that’s always worth a shot. But honestly, I met with them a couple of times, they promised me the moon, and I got literally nothing. It hasn’t endeared me to their process all that much.

But really, at the end of the day, it’s a long-game. As I said, I highly, highly recommend going wide with as many books as possible, but it takes exponentially longer to build up a fan-base on other platforms than it does on Amazon. If you’re thinking of going wide because you’re fed up with Amazon and you imagine that the moment you put your book up for sale on other platforms you will see a similar amount of sales immediately…um, it ain’t gonna happen. I know one writer who got fed up with Amazon, pulled her books from KU, put them wide, and then was massively disappointed when she “only” sold a couple dozen copies elsewhere on her first day wide. (This was a few years ago) I had a hard time not laughing. Selling any copies wide right out of the gate is a very good thing!

Yes, go wide. But go into it with lower expectations. Remember that it takes longer to build an audience on other platforms than it does to build one on Amazon. You have to put the effort in, seek out promotions, and invest time in making them work. But once things do start to work, the benefits are awesome. No more reliance on Amazon’s page counts and the corresponding snafus! Higher royalties for the books that you actually sell on Amazon instead of page reads! And sales from other platforms which can serve as a buffer for the Weirdness of the ‘Zon! But it is work, and it’s not right for every book every time. I still have my sweet historicals in KDP Select. But one of the reasons I’m trying to move away from sweet is so that the books I’m writing will have greater sticking power on those other platforms.

It’s an ever-changing business, and those who survive are the ones who seek out opportunities and change as everything else changes.

If you have questions about something I didn’t cover, feel free to ask in the comments. I’ll do my best to answer!

Release Day! – Drifter’s Darling

It’s Release Day for Drifter’s Darling, book 12 in the Culpepper Cowboys series! I know you’ve been waiting for it, so here you go, I won’t make you wait! Get started reading Chapter One right here, and then zip on over to Amazon to pick it up!

Chapter One

Culpepper, Wyoming had never been a particularly hopping metropolis, but after eight years running the rat race in Denver, it was exactly the speed Elvie O’Donnell was looking for. There were more cows than people per square foot throughout the state, which was good for the vet business Elvie’s brother, Doc, had going in the remote ranching town. It was a vet business Elvie had happily joined when Doc floated the idea to her a couple of months ago. Culpepper was where her heart was.

Culpepper was also a great place to hide.

“Here you go, Raspberry Rush.” Denise Bonneville pulled a tube of lipstick from its display in the cosmetics aisle of Culpepper’s one and only convenience store and handed it to Elvie’s newly-minted sister-in-law, Nancy. “This one will match your complexion much better than the shade I saw you wearing the other day.”

Nancy took the lipstick with a dubious expression. “I’m not used to wearing make-up in the first place.” She rolled the tube in her fingers, reading the ingredients on the back, of all things.

Denise snorted and brushed away Nancy’s comment. “Honey, I’ll help you out all you want.”

“You will?” Nancy’s eyebrows inched up.

“Sure I will. I’ll do your colors too. Oh! Then maybe we can go on a big shopping trip to Cheyenne or something!”

“You planning to do my colors too?” Elvie asked. Her smile reached all the way down to her gut. She hadn’t had a fun group of girl friends since high school.

“I’d love to.” Denise brightened. “Although you’ll be easy to beautify. You’re so pretty already.”

Elvie blushed. The last thing she ever felt was pretty. Competent, yes. Powerful, occasionally. But pretty just wasn’t something she’d ever cared about.

“Thanks,” she managed at last. “I credit whatever prettiness I have to the O’Donnell genes.”

“You guys sure have a lot of them,” Denise grinned, that look coming into her eyes that all women wore when talking about her brothers. “I had such a crush on Doc for all those years. Not that I do now,” she rushed to add for Nancy’s sake, holding up her hands to prove her innocence. “He’s all yours now, and I don’t believe in chasing other women’s men.” She paused. “At least, not anymore.”

Denise’s lighthearted expression drooped. Elvie reached out to squeeze her arm. “We know you don’t.”

“Yeah, and you’re right about the O’Donnell genes,” Nancy said, steered away from the painful subject. “I still can’t believe I managed to bag such a hot guy.”

“They’re all hot, Doc, Sly, and Arch.” Denise perked up a little, then burst into a full, naughty grin. “I don’t know how you and Doc ever manage to leave the bedroom.”

“Let me tell you,” Nancy drawled, arching one eyebrow. “There are days when we don’t.”

“Eew, eew!” Elvie clapped her hands to her ears, laughing. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

“Yes it is,” Nancy teased her, licking her lips. She held up her tube of lipstick. “And pretty soon, he’s going to have Raspberry Rush marks all over his body, including his—”

“No!” Elvie laughed even louder. “Who do you think you are, Chastity Culpepper?”

The three of them giggled like a pack of teenagers talking about the guys on the football team. It was the kind of thing that helped Elvie’s soul breathe. The few friends she’d made in Denver didn’t understand why she wanted to leave the vibrant city for Nowheresville, as they called it. But this was it. There was just something about the friendships a girl could make in a small town. These were the ladies she would call in the middle of the night if her crying baby was running a fever.

Not that she had a baby.

Not that she was likely to anytime soon.

“So what shade would you recommend for me?” She turned back to the shelf of cosmetics. “Ooh! I like this one. Cinnamon Sunset.”

She reached for the tube, but Denise pulled it out of her hands. “Not with your coloring. This one is too warm. You need a cooler shade.” She put the Cinnamon Sunset back and reached for a dark rose tube. “This one. Dusty Rose Dreams.”

“Ooh!” Elvie took the tube, and turned to the tiny mirror built into the display, holding the lipstick up to her face. “I like it. Now all I need is someone to make kissy marks all over.”

The other two laughed.

“I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with that,” Denise said, growing wistful again. “Everyone and their brother is probably falling all over you, considering how few women there are around here these days.”

“Not after Sly and Rachel’s stunt,” Nancy corrected her. “The hotel has been packed full of husband-seeking ladies from as far away as Seattle.”

“That was a smart move on my brother’s part,” Elvie added. “And last I heard, Rachel’s underwear company had so many orders that it pushed them way into the black for the year.”

“So she’s going to be able to keep the company?” Nancy asked.

“Yep.” It felt incredibly good to say that.

But as triumphant as Elvie felt, the feeling deflated as soon as she noticed Denise mulling over the lipstick with a sad frown. Elvie exchanged a look with Nancy. Neither of them were going to stand by and let Denise get depressed. Not since discovering how nice the woman really was underneath the layer of prickles and tragedy that Chastity Culpepper had started to scrape away back in the spring.

“I think we need to find a great shade for you,” Elvie said, scanning the tubes of lipstick still in the display.

“Yeah.” Nancy joined in. “We do have a town full of single men, after all. You’re bound to snag one of them.”

“Sriracha Siren?” Nancy held up a spicy-looking tube of lipstick with a hopeful look.

Denise tried to smile. “It’s not going to work,” she sighed.

“Why not?” Elvie put an arm around her and hugged. “If you think it can work for me…”

“Yeah, but you’re thin and pretty and everybody likes you,” Denise said. “I’m fat and mean and I have a reputation.”

“No!”

“That’s not true!”

Elvie and Nancy spoke over each other in their haste to set Denise straight.

Denise held up her hands to stop them. “It’s true. You can’t argue with it. I’m all puffy and doughy.”

“Men like curves on a woman,” Nancy argued.

“And everybody knows all about how mean and spiteful I’ve been all these years,” Denise went on. “I’ve been a royal bee-otch since high school, since Wes Fulbright knocked me up and dumped me.”

“Yeah, well, you ended up with the best part of that whole thing, Destiny,” Elvie argued.

“It’s true, Destiny is an awesome kid,” Nancy agreed.

“She is,” Denise admitted.

“She’s been a super big help over at the clinic,” Elvie added.

“I’m so grateful to you for hiring her after school,” Denise said, then rushed on with, “But that doesn’t change how I’ve behaved since she was born. It doesn’t erase years’ worth of being rotten. And every guy in town knows just how easy I was.”

“Was being the operative word,” Nancy rushed to clarify.

“Still, I don’t think I’ll ever find a guy who can love me,” Denise finished, taking the Sriracha Siren out of Nancy’s hand and shoving it back in the display.

“You don’t know that,” Nancy persisted. “I ended up with Doc, even after a billion misunderstandings and false starts. Well,” she cocked her head to the side, “not a billion. But I found him, and I’m lucky.”

“Yeah,” Elvie added. “And I never expected to find a guy who made my heart skip a beat and my girly bits tingle, not after—”

She stopped, clamping her mouth shut. She’d just come way too close to blurting out the big secret she’d been sitting on since the rodeo last month. It wasn’t even a secret either, just something she hadn’t planned on telling anyone. How could she even begin to explain her excitement at the memory of those blue eyes and those shoulders, as broad as the Wyoming horizon, even if she’d only seen them once? Guys like that didn’t come around every day and—

She blinked as soon as she realized her friends were staring at her. “What?”

Nancy grinned and peeked at Denise. Denise smirked and crossed her arms. “You get the feeling there’s something she’s not telling us?”

“Uh-huh.” Nancy crossed her arms as well and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Denise. “Spill it, sister.”

Elvie’s cheeks suddenly went hot. The only way she was going to get out of this with her dignity intact was to act like it was no big deal. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking about the one that got away.”

 

Drifter’s Darling is out NOW! At the moment, it’s exclusive to Amazon and for Kindle Unlimited, but in three short months, it will be available at iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo as well!

Writing Spicy and Sweet

A lot of people who have read my Brides of Paradise Ranch series have been intrigued by the fact that I’ve been doing both a sweet and a spicy version of each book. People love the idea of being able to choose which heat-level they’d like to read, but I’m often asked “How do you do that? How do you write two versions?” 

The first and most important part of the answer to that question is that I start out knowing that I’m going to be writing two versions all the way in the conceptualization phase.  

But let me back up a little bit further to answer the question of why I started doing this in the first place.  

I generally write spicy. I like to write spicy. I like to read spicy. Not erotica, mind you, but sizzling. When I first started reading romance novels all those years ago, I read spicy pirate romance novels. That level of spice just seems natural to me. But as I started writing historical westerns (and I never intended to write historical westerns when I started out, it happened by accident—but that’s a whole other blog post), I came to see that a lot of readers preferred the sweet stuff. And I’ll confess, I looked at the success of my sweet historical western-writing friends and thought, “Well, I’m trying to make a living off of this, and I’ve got to pay the bills somehow.” 

So I decided to give sweet a try…without sacrificing the spice. Because anyone who knows me knows that the spicy side is a huge part of who I am. =D 

Back to how I do it… 

Like I said, I know going into a spicy/sweet novel that it’s going to have two versions. I thought about going back and rewriting some of my older books in sweet versions, but it didn’t take long to realize that it wouldn’t work. In so many of those books, major elements of the plot and the characters’ journeys center around what happens in the bedroom. It’s impossible to take that out without changing the focus of the plot entirely. 

So keeping that in mind, when I set out to write books with both sweet and spicy versions, I knew I had to include the spice in such a way that it wasn’t the pivot point of the plot. The major thrust of the action (no pun intended) had to focus around something that could still be told without following the characters into the bedroom. In other words, the tension of the plot needed to be something other than “will they or won’t they.” 

I think that plotting this way has actually made me a better writer. In the past, I’ve always considered external plots to be the weak point in my writing. Well, here I was writing stories that needed to depend on external plot rather than just the relationship between the hero and heroine. At the same time, that relationship has to play a major role in the story. After all, the spicy version wouldn’t work if the schmexy scenes felt tacked on or superfluous. 

That leaves me with a complex dilemma for each book. How do I write one version in which sensual scenes play a major part in character development without the entire plot hanging on them? And how can I remove those scenes and still maintain an intimacy between the characters while keeping the story sweet? 

I think the answer lies in my process of writing. When I draft each of the Paradise Ranch books, I draft the spicy version. The first draft is spicy. Actually, the second and third drafts are too. Once I have everything just the way I want it, I send it off to my editor. And then I go back and start working on the sweet version while she works on the spicy one. 

The sweet version is all about subtracting and adding. I go through and take out everything non-sweet. Gone are the schmexy scenes, gone are any swear words or even references to alcohol. I have a kind of silly list of words that I do a search for when I’m writing that sweet version. But of course, most of the time if you take something out, you leave holes. That’s when I go back through and add many more Christian references and rewrite any sensual scenes to be emotionally powerful, fully-clothed, upright scenes. 

This is another area where preplanning is key. When I’m writing the schmexy scenes in the first draft, I always have a point where the action will veer off into the sweet scene in later drafts. I build that jumping off point into the draft to save myself the work of rewriting tons and tons of words later. I keep both versions in mind even as I’m spicing it up. 

Once the spicy draft comes back from my editor, I go through and make all the changes she suggests in both versions. After that, they go off to various proof-readers and beta-readers I have, depending on which draft they prefer. Once those come back, I make final changes and corrections, and voila! Two versions. 

I’ve had a lot of positive response from readers about the fact that two versions are available, even though they prefer one or the other. And I also get a lot of questions about whether I will be going back and writing sweet versions of my older books. The answer to that is no, it would be way too much work, and I’d rather focus on writing new books.  

The second question I get is “Will you be doing sweet and spicy versions of new books/series?” That’s a much harder question to answer. Harder not because I have to think about my answer, but I’m afraid my answer will disappoint people. Because the answer is no. No, this series has taught me that I really do prefer writing spicy. It comes more naturally to me, and so I’ll be sticking with just the spicy in all new series. BUT, I’m going to continue to write both sweet and spicy versions of the Paradise Ranch series, and that has many, many, MANY more books to come! 

I want to add one final note before ending, though, based on a few private comments I’ve had from readers. I do not think sex is dirty. That’s why I will never refer to a sweet novel as “clean.” I take offense to that term. I don’t think sex is shocking or scandalous or evil, and especially not dirty. It’s a natural part of human relationships and intimacy. I don’t think it should be treated as an unmentionable topic, because I believe that that way lies dysfunction and fear. So all those 1-star reviews that say “This book has too much sex in it?” Those are like 6-star reviews to me! For those who like to leave those reviews, just know that those kinds of reviews sell more books than the best of the best 5-star reviews.

Check out all of the books in The Brides of Paradise Ranch series on my “Other Works by Merry Farmer” page!

Weekend Excerpt – Drifter’s Darling

It’s almost the weekend, folks, and you know what that means. It means it’s time to take a sneak peek at something up and coming! And I know you’re eager to get a little taste of the next Culpepper Cowboys book, Drifter’s Darling. So here you go!

“Here you go, Raspberry Rush.” Denise Bonneville pulled a tube of lipstick from its display in the cosmetics aisle of Culpepper’s one and only convenience store and handed it to Elvie’s newly-minted sister-in-law, Nancy, Doc’s wife. “This one will match your complexion much better than the shade I saw you wearing the other day.”

Nancy took the lipstick with a dubious expression. “I’m not used to wearing make-up in the first place.” She rolled the tube in her fingers, reading the ingredients, of all things, on the back.

Denise snorted and brushed away Nancy’s comment. “Honey, I’ll help you out all you want.”

“You will?” Nancy’s eyebrows inched up.

“Sure I will. I’ll do your colors too. Oh! Then maybe we can go on a big shopping trip to Cheyenne or something!”

“You planning to do my colors too?” Elvie asked. Her smile reached all the way down to her gut. She hadn’t had a fun group of girl friends since high school.

“I’d love to.” Denise brightened. “Although you’ll be easy to beautify. You’re so pretty already.”

Elvie blushed. The last thing she ever felt was pretty. Competent, yes. Powerful, occasionally. But pretty just wasn’t something she’d ever cared about.

“Thanks,” she managed at last. “I credit whatever prettiness I have to the O’Donnell genes.”

“You’ve sure got a lot of them,” Denise grinned, that look coming into her eyes that all women wore when talking about her brothers. “I had such a crush on Doc all these years. Not that I do now,” she rushed to add for Nancy’s sake, holding up her hands to prove her innocence. “He’s all yours now, and I don’t believe in chasing other women’s men.” She paused. “At least, not anymore.”

Denise’s lighthearted expression drooped. Elvie reached out to squeeze her arm. “We know you don’t.”

“Yeah, and you’re right about the O’Donnell genes.” Nancy deftly steered away from the painful subject. “I still can’t believe I managed to bag such a hot guy.”

“They’re all hot, Doc, Sly, and Arch.” Denise perked up a little, then burst into a full, naughty grin. “I don’t know how you ever manage to leave the bedroom.”

“Let me tell you,” Nancy drawled, arching on eyebrow. “There are days when we don’t.”

“Eew, eew!” Elvie clapped her hands to her ears, laughing. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

“Yes it is,” Nancy teased her, licking her lips. She held up her tube of lipstick. “And pretty soon, he’s going to have Raspberry Rush marks all over his body, including his—”

“No!” Elvie laughed even louder. “Who do you think you are, Chastity Culpepper?”

The three of them giggled like a pack of teenagers talking about the guys on the football team. It was the kind of thing that helped Elvie’s soul breathe. The few friends she’d made in Denver didn’t understand why she wanted to leave the vibrant city for Nowheresville, as they called it, but this was it. There was just something about the friendships a girl could make in a small town. These were the ladies she would call in the middle of the night if her crying baby was running a fever.

Not that she had a baby.

Not that she was likely to anytime soon.

“So what shade would you recommend for me?” She turned back to the shelf of cosmetics. “Ooh! I like this one. Cinnamon Sunset.”

She reached for the tube, but Denise pulled it out of her hands. “Not with your coloring. This one is too warm. You need a cooler shade.” She put the Cinnamon Sunset back and reached for a dark rose tube. “This one. Dusty Rose Dreams.”

“Ooh!” Elvie took the tube, and turned to the tiny mirror built into the display, holding the lipstick up to her face. “I like it. Now all I need is someone to make kissy marks all over.”

The other two laughed.

Only two weeks to wait until Drifter’s Darling is out!

Release Day! – His Forbidden Bride/Honoria:The Forbidden Bride

Release Day is here at last for His Forbidden Bride (spicy version)/Honoria: The Forbidden Bride (sweet version)! And I know a lot of you have been looking forward to Honoria and Solomon’s story for a long, long time. Well, here it is! So who am I to stand in your way? Get started reading Chapter One right now….

Haskell, Wyoming – 1876

 

Honoria Bonneville was about to go mad. The clock on the mantel of Dr. Abernathy’s office ticked with such deep foreboding that it pulled every nerve in her body taut. She wrung her white handkerchief in her hands as she sat hunched in a spindly chair on the other side of the waiting room from the clock. Her lungs burned, but she fought the urge to cough—fought it and fought it and fought it until she couldn’t hold out anymore.

She burst into a spell of coughing that wracked her from head to toe and made the pale, middle-aged woman sitting across from her start. That woman quickly fell into coughing too, as if Honoria’s outburst were contagious. A third patient—an older man—frowned and hugged himself tightly, as if summoning the willpower to not be made sick by the women. Honoria squeezed her eyes shut, praying for her lungs to be still.

Heaven knew she had enough practice holding her breath and keeping the things that were inside of her from coming out. She’d been biting her tongue and swallowing all of the things she had wanted to say for the past twenty-five years of incessant bullying by her sisters, Vivian and Melinda. She’d even endured snide comments and a turned-up nose from her younger sister, Bebe.

Once upon a time, she’d tried to speak out, to fight back against the unfairness that was heaped on her. It had been easier when she was a small girl and her mother was still alive. Ariana Bonneville had been the one light of hope in young Honoria’s life. She had been the single stabilizing influence in Rex Bonneville’s life—though he’d never appreciated her for it. She’d been the center of Honoria’s world, and when she’d died in childbirth—along with Rex Bonneville’s only son—when Honoria was seven, the light had gone out of her world. And the sense had gone out of the Bonneville family.

Grief that had never healed spilled through Honoria, and she dissolved into another round of wracking coughs that brought tears to her eyes. It was the coughing that made her cry, she insisted to herself, not grief, not pity for her lot in life. As her mother lay dying, her final words to Honoria had been, “Always remember who you are, Honoria. Your honor is your shining light. Hold your head up high, face your trials bravely, and be honest in all things.” There had been words of love and sorrow too, but in every day that passed since then, Honoria had obeyed her mother, behaved with quiet honor, and born the brutality of her sisters and the neglect of her father with as much courage and strength as she could muster…for Mother’s sake.

Now that strength was failing her. She coughed again, in unison with the other woman waiting to see Dr. Abernathy. She’d been strong as long as she could, but for months now Honoria had felt the unmistakable sensation of the Universe holding its breath. Something was about to change.

The door to Dr. Abernathy’s examination room swung open, and Dr. Abernathy himself popped his head into the waiting room. He held a small stack of files that he looked at several times between staring at Honoria, the old man, and the other woman. He shuffled through the papers in the file, cleared his throat, then focused on Honoria.

“With a cough like that, I’d better see you first.”

An unexpected tremor of fear passed through Honoria as she stood and slipped across the waiting room to the examination room. Dr. Abernathy stood back so she could go before him. Once she was inside, hovering anxiously beside a short table, Dr. Abernathy shut the door.

“Let’s see now.” Dr. Abernathy shuffled through the files, mumbling to himself. He set one down on the table, then scowled as he thumbed through the other two. “What an utter nuisance.”

“I’m sorry?” Honoria asked in a small voice.

Dr. Abernathy made a disapproving noise. “Why does Dr. Meyers keep insisting on seeing patients when he is constantly being called out to that blasted Indian reservation?”

Honoria blinked, unsure if she was supposed to answer the question. “I saw Dr. Meyers about my cough this morning.” She opted to explain.

“Yes, and I’m sure your father will have something to say about that,” Dr. Abernathy grumbled. “I’ve been your family doctor for years.”

There was no point in explaining that that was the exact reason she’d seen someone else about her concerns. “Dr. Meyers had just finished examining me—listening to my lungs, testing my sputum with some chemicals he has—when the army officer came to take him to the Cheyenne camp. I…I understand it was an emergency.”

Dr. Abernathy continued to mutter, “Damned inconvenient, if you ask me. Causing me extra work. Those savages don’t deserve it.”

A sudden snap of dislike caught Honoria off-guard, sending her into another coughing fit.

At last, Dr. Abernathy set one of the two files he held aside and his expression lightened. “Ah! Here we are. Just as I suspected.” His countenance turned grave. He stared at her over the top of his glasses. Honoria began to shake, too afraid to ask what he suspected. She didn’t have to ask. “It’s obvious, really,” he went on. “Consumption.”

Honoria’s breath caught in her throat, and the room went dark for a moment. Her legs turned to jelly, and if she hadn’t reached out to grab the examination table, she was certain she would have fallen over. She’d known it. In her heart, she’d known all along. And she knew what consumption was.

It was a death sentence.

“Looks like it’s fairly advanced, going by Dr. Meyers’s notes,” Dr. Abernathy went on, as if describing how a garden wall was built. “The coughing will continue, as will instances of coughing up blood. Yes, yes.” He scanned the rest of the file. “I wouldn’t plan on lasting more than six months to a year.”

“That’s it?” Honoria squeaked, clutching her handkerchief to her chest.

Dr. Abernathy shrugged. “Could be less, could be more.” He cleared his throat and closed the file, tossing it on the table with the others. “If I were you, young woman, I would get my affairs in order.”

The tears that had stung Honoria’s eyes earlier burned hotter. That was it? Twenty-five years and her life was over? She shook her head, her shoulders sinking. Twenty-five years of life and what did she have to show for it? A battered spirit and an empty heart.

What a waste. What a terrible, terrible waste.

Dr. Abernathy cleared his throat. “I have other patients to see. More than usual, thanks to Dr. Meyers.”

Honoria blinked up at him through her shock and grief. That was all he had to say? Censure for Dr. Meyers? After giving her a death sentence? The urge to run filled her.

“Thank you for your time, sir.” She managed to push out the words with a hoarse breath.

Dr. Abernathy grunted, then pivoted to hold the door open for her. Clutching her handkerchief to her chest, Honoria hurried out the door. She tried to hold her head high—like she always did—as she made her way through the waiting room, but as soon as she was out in the hot, July sun of Haskell, she burst into bitter, wrenching tears.

 

Oh no! That doesn’t sound good at all! But is Honoria really dying? Find out by reading either His Forbidden Bride (spicy version) or Honoria: The Forbidden Bride (sweet version) now!

His Forbidden Bride is available at Amazon – iBooks – Barnes & Noble, and will be available for Kobo soon.

Honoria: The Forbidden Bride is available exclusively at Amazon and for Kindle Unlimited.

 

 

Weekend Excerpt – His Forbidden Bride/Honoria: The Forbidden Bride

I know how much you guys have been looking forward to Honoria & Solomon’s story, His Forbidden Bride (spicy)/Honoria: The Forbidden Bride (sweet). Well, it’s almost here! It’ll be out in one week! So why not read a little bit of it today? Think it will satisfy you or make you more excited? *wiggles eyebrows*

She made it almost all the way to the intersection with Elizabeth Street before hearing Solomon’s concerned call of, “Honoria, stop!”

She could only managed a few more, tripping steps before lurching to a halt. Rough coughing stopped her. She shouldn’t be running, as sick as she was. She held her handkerchief to her mouth, helpless to do anything but wait until Solomon caught up with her.

“Honoria, my god.” He skipped straight past politeness and gripped her arms as he reached her.

Honoria’s coughing subsided, and she let her hand fall from her mouth. “I…” She couldn’t meet her eyes, could only stare down at the contrast between her white handkerchief and the dark brown skin of his hands. “I…” She couldn’t. She couldn’t burden him.

Only, before she could summon up the strength to break free from his supporting hands, Solomon said, “Elspeth told me what you said to her.”

Honoria snapped her eyes up to meet his, full of fear. Would he reject her now? The one person she admired above all else?

No, there was so much tenderness, so much regret in his eyes that all she could do was break down into sobs and nod.

“No,” he whispered.

And right there, in broad daylight, directly across from the hotel, near one of the busiest intersections in Haskell, Solomon Templesmith pulled her into a tight embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. No one, not even her own father, would ever show her so much sympathy. Solomon was little more than a stranger, forbidden in so many ways, but the comfort he was offering turned her inside out and made her feel as though she was floating in the midst of her misery. She wept freely against his shoulder, leaning heavily into the firm muscles of his chest, closing her arms around his back. She’d dreamed of this moment with him for years, only to have it come at the end.

They might have stood there for hours or it might have only been seconds when Solomon said, “Tell me all about it.”

Sense returned to her slowly. She gulped a few breaths, working to have the power to stand on her own. As soon as she could, she pushed back, wiping away her tears and straightening her back. It still took several deep, deliberate breaths before she could raise her gaze to meet his.

“Dr. Abernathy says I have consumption,” she admitted, her voice shaking like tall grass in a storm. “He says I have months left.”

Solomon’s expression crumpled into extreme sympathy. “Oh, Honoria, I’m so sorry.”

He could have left her right there, but instead he took her hand and led her over to the side of the road, to a bench that sat out in front of Charlie and Olivia Garrett’s house. He helped her to sit, then sat beside her. Out of the corner of her eyes, Honoria spotted several people looking on curiously, including Mr. Gunn on the hotel’s porch. She didn’t mind his observation, but she wished everyone else would disappear. She wished everyone in the world but her and Solomon would disappear.

“What precisely did Dr. Abernathy say?” Solomon asked in a solid, businesslike voice.

Honoria wrung her handkerchief, used it to dabbed her eyes, and gathered her thoughts. Solomon was sitting too close to her, but at that moment she truly didn’t care.

“I…I’ve had this cough for quite some time,” she began in a weak and weary voice. “Bonnie—you know, Bonnie Horner, who’s walking out with my father—has been urging me to see a doctor.”

“Bonnie is a wise woman.” Solomon nodded.

Honoria managed a small smile for praise of the woman who—in spite of having her father for a beau—was vilified more often than not in the Bonneville house.

Her smile faded fast. “I went to see Dr. Meyers first thing this morning. He examined me. He even ran a test with chemicals that he explained were new and helped diagnose disease.” Solomon made an impressed sound. “But he was called away by an army officer. Dr. Abernathy takes over his cases when Dr. Meyers is away, so I left and went about my business until this afternoon.” She sniffled as recent, bad memories assailed her. “I went to Dr. Abernathy for the results just now, and he told me.” She squeezed her eye shut, and more tears streamed down her face.

“Could Dr. Abernathy have been wrong?” Solomon asked.

Honoria shook her head. He had Dr. Meyers’s file. I saw Dr. Meyers writing in that file while he was examining me.”

Solomon’s shoulder sagged. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed Honoria’s back, sliding his arm around her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder from the side.

“My life has been such a waste,” she blurted before she could stop herself. Her tears continued to spill.

“Don’t say that.” Solomon’s voice was so tender that it only made her weep harder.

“But it’s true. I’ve let myself be pushed around and bullied by my sisters since Mama died. I’ve lived a half-life. And there were so many things I wanted to do.”

“What did you want to do?” He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead.

Honoria sighed, closing her eyes. “I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted to do something with my skills, help people. I…I wanted to fall in love, marry, and have children.” Her voice faded to a wisp as she mourned all of the children she’d never have now.

 

Oooh! Excited for more! You only have to wait one week! His Forbidden Bride/Honoria: The Forbidden Bride comes out next Friday, September 2nd!

Release Day! – Tycoon’s Tryst

It’s here! It’s release day for Tycoon’s Tryst, book 10 in the Culpepper Cowboys series! You can go grab your copy now at Amazon and for Kindle Unlimited. It’ll be available on all other platforms in about three months. But why not celebrate now by getting started on Chapter One?

“I plan to make big changes around here,” Sly O’Donnell commented to his sister, Elvie, with a leonine grin. He turned his convertible to exit the highway and drove onto the scenic country road that would lead them into the center of their hometown, Culpepper, Wyoming.

The late-summer sun baked the ranchland all around them. In the distance, a herd of cattle chewed on wilted grass, and further beyond that, a collection of windmills turned lazily in the faint breeze. As hot as it was, Sly drove with the top down. The car was a leftover from his time in California and admittedly out of place in Wyoming. He figured he should get a truck soon, but for now he still liked the jazzy, silver sign of his success. Especially if it put that scrunched up look on Elvie’s face as her wild, long hair blew around as they drove. She was his sister. Irritating her was his job.

“You really think folks in Culpepper are going to let you walk in and make a bunch of changes?” She turned her pinched and doubtful look on him.

“Once they see what I’ve got in store, sure.” He nodded to emphasize his point. Elvie was only in a bad mood because her engagement had recently fizzled out. Not only was it his job to irritate her, it was his job as big brother to take her mind off her troubles. “They sure did like the Culpepper Stakes,” he argued.

Elvie’s grumpy look softened to a considering one. She shrugged, using both hands to smooth her flying hair back and hold it behind her head. “I’ll give you that much. Arch told me the race was fun, that he was glad to have come out here for it. And of course Doc loved it.”

“Because he won.” Sly grinned.

“No, stupid, because he got the girl.” Elvie let go an unladylike snort. “All you guys ever care about is winning.”

“That’s not true.”

“Ha! I know you, Sly. You’re going to argue with me until I admit that you won the argument.”

He put on his most charming smile for her—the smile that closed deals and had made him a fortune like no one else in Culpepper, Wyoming would be able to imagine.

“Not buying it.” Elvie shut him down.

Sly laughed out loud. He was so freakin’ happy that his sister was moving back to town—to help Doc expand his veterinary business—that it was borderline embarrassing. The O’Donnell family had always done better when they’d stuck together. He loved his siblings like some people loved money and power, and he would gladly have given up all of the latter to keep the former.

It would have been great to find a woman who felt the same way. Too bad there were none in his circles in California. He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t part of the reason he’d moved home to Culpepper. But as it turned out, women of any kind were as rare in Culpepper these days as polar bears were in Punta Cana.

He cleared his throat and pushed his thoughts back onto the track they’d been heading down. “I’m pretty sure that once I’ve gotten started, folks will love my plans for this beautiful old town.”

Elvie arched a brow and sent him a sideways look.

“First was the Culpepper Stakes,” he elaborated. “And you’d better believe we’ll be doing that next year and every year. Then there’s the rodeo next week.”

Elvie let out a breath, giving him a break. “I still don’t know how you managed to get the premier rodeo association to hold an event in Culpepper when the town doesn’t even have a proper facility for it.”

“Yet.” Sly raised a finger. “I’m working on that too. And it’s not a full competition, just an exhibition event.”

“Mmm hmm.” Elvie swiped at her hair again to gather up the ends that had escaped.

“But besides the rodeo, I’m bringing in all sorts of businesses. There’s this guy, Bob, who wants to start a restaurant, Bob’s Burger Barn. That’s definitely going to be a hit.”

“Bob’s Burger Barn?” Elvie grinned.

“Sure, why not? And after that, I want to find a way to bring a top-rated chef in to set up a five-star restaurant. Maybe someone who won one of those cooking competition shows.”

“There you go again with the competitions.” This time Elvie laughed.

Sly loved the sound. It reminded him of some of the better days of their childhood. Heaven only knew there’d been enough bad days, what with all the problems their parents had—with each other and with the bottle. Most of the time, it had been the four O’Donnell children against the world. It still was, as far as he was concerned, but in a far more positive way than those dark days.

“Why don’t you do something charitable?” Elvie asked. “I mean, you’ve got me and Doc working together at Doc’s clinic now. Maybe we could all band together and do something to protect wildlife.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Sly nodded, then rushed on with, “but I’ve got an even better one. A wedding chapel.”

“A what?” Elvie’s voice rose an octave.

“A wedding chapel. You know, like they have in Vegas. Wyoming is a no-wait state too. And everyone around here has taken to getting married at the drop of a hat, without long engagements. Heck, the Culpepper brothers all had marriages that were arranged by a matchmaker.”

“I heard about that. Not sure what to think.” Elvie’s face darkened, and she fell into chewing her lip, an old habit when she was upset.

Sly reached over and squeezed her arm. “Hey, it’s okay, sis. That guy was a jerk. I’m glad you didn’t marry him. Your time will come, though. I just know it. I mean, you’re the best woman in the world. How could it not?”

Elvie’s tight frown turned into a look that was partway between rolling her eyes at Sly’s praise and thanking him for it. If she continued to doubt herself, Sly would have to intervene. Not that she’d like that much.

“And what about you?” Elvie turned the tables on him. “Are you going to marry the first woman you see in town now?”

Sly laughed. “I don’t think marriage is for me.”

“No?”

He shrugged and used the excuse of keeping his eyes on the road to hide the disappointment he was sure was written on his face at the prospect. “I’ve never met a girl I cared about enough to marry.”

“That’s just sad.”

“Maybe.” It was sad. He’d dated more than his fair share of women, some of them rich and gorgeous, one or two that were a little famous. None of them had given him that feeling of home that he’d always longed for.

“Okay, so why not test the Culpepper waters, now that you’re back?” Elvie pressed him. “There’s got to be some awesome single women here.”

Sly laughed out loud. “Actually, there isn’t.”

“No single women?”

“Let me put it this way.” He shifted in his seat, sending her a quick, teasing look. “The second you step foot in town and put out your shingle, you’re going to have three dozen lonely cowboys and ranchers banging on your door with flowers and chocolates. The men of Culpepper are so desperate for women that they’re willing to import them.”

Elvie crossed her arms. “Well, after Andrew, I’m not ready to date yet. They’ll just have to accept that.” Sly was on the verge of attempting to say something comforting or asking about it—which he had no idea how to do right—when she went on with, “Although the chocolate and flowers wouldn’t be so bad.”

He laughed. “Give it time.”

She sighed and reached up to gather her hair again.

“Anyhow, I have plans to fix the girl situation in Culpepper.” He grinned from ear-to-ear over the plan he’d already started to put in place.

Elvie gave him a wary look. “Sly, what did you do?”

Her scolding reminded him of the ones they would get as kids when they’d crossed the line with their mischief. He put on the same pretend innocent face that he wore back then. “Nothing. I just got to the root of the problem.”

“What’s the root of the problem?”

“Korpanty Enterprises.” He broke into a wolfish smile.

“Oookaaaay.” Elvie drew out the word. “What’s that?”

Sly’s predatory grin grew. “Korpanty Enterprises is the company that held that underwear ad shoot a couple winters ago.”

“The one where all the women in Culpepper got snowed in with a bunch of underwear models for two weeks?” Elvie laughed as she spoke.

“That’s the one.” Sly slowed down and made another turn onto the road that would take them right into the center of town. The spattering of businesses that made up Culpepper proper rolled into view, the relatively new hotel rising up on the other side.

“Korpanty Enterprises is to blame for there not being enough women in Culpepper for all the men who live here,” he went on. “So I’m suing the company.”

“You’re what?”

“I filed the lawsuit last week.”

“What could you possibly sue them for? Theft of hearts? Breach of promise?”

“Willful negligence,” Sly answered triumphantly. “I’m making the case that Korpanty Enterprises was willfully negligent in failing to bring a suitable production staff for that photo shoot, and for employing locals without full disclosure of the dangers of the job.”

“Uh, the danger of meeting a smoking-hot guy and marrying them?”

“Exactly.”

Elvie shook her head as they slowed down and headed for Doc’s office. “You know how stupid that sounds, right?”

“Of course it’s stupid.” Sly chuckled. “Just stupid enough to gain some attention from the media.”

Elvie quirked an eyebrow, so he went on.

“It’s a frivolous lawsuit that I have no chance of winning. But it will gain attention—attention for Culpepper. Not only that, I plan to highlight some of the single, desirable men in town who are now without any prospects locally.”

“Why?”

“Because there are a lot of women out there in the world who would give their eye teeth to relocate to a town packed full of hot, single cowboys, that’s why. And they’ll bring their businesses and spending dollars with them. It will be the perfect boost to the economy and morale of Culpepper. It’ll make the guys happy too.”

“So you’re suing someone to get attention.”

Sly’s grin faltered. His little sister sure did have a way of raining on his parade.

“It’s a win-win situation,” he argued, pulling into a parking spot in front of Doc’s building. “I’m not going to win the lawsuit, so I won’t be hurting Korpanty Enterprises, not really. Just helping Culpepper.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Of course I am. I’m—”

Whatever he was going to say faded. He turned his head, following a flash of sunlight on golden blonde hair as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen rose from staring inside the hood of a car just outside of the Culpepper Diner. It was like an arrow hitting him in the heart.

 

Yep! You can keep reading by running over to Amazon to pick up your copy of Tycoon’s Tryst today!

Weekend Excerpt – Tycoon’s Tryst

Wow! Can you believe that we have less than a week until Tycoon’s Tryst, book 10 in the Culpepper Cowboy series, comes out? (Friday, August 19th!) I had SO much fun writing this story about Sly O’Donnell, Culpepper’s clever businessman who is intent on putting his town on the map, and Rachel Korpanty, someone who has already caused more trouble for Culpepper than even she knows! Here’s a sneak peek….

“It’s not much of a walk,” Sly said.

“Too bad,” Rachel mumbled.

She had the feeling he’d heard her when a charming grin broke out on his face. A blush burned hot on her cheeks.

“Nothing in Culpepper is too far from anything else,” he went on.

“You live here?” He didn’t look like he fit in.

“I do.” He laughed as though he knew what she’d been thinking. “I just moved back a few months ago after living elsewhere for a decade. I grew up here.”

“Must be nice,” she said, then clarified, “to be able to move back home after seeing the world.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, drawing her in even more. It would also be nice to have a handsome face and pair of strong arms like that to come home to every night. Yummy.

“I made some money out there in the world,” he went on, “and now I have plans for improvements to the town.”

“Improvements?”

“Bringing in new businesses and the like. That’s what I do,” he added. “I flip towns.”

“Flip towns?” Something about the statement tickled a nerve, and not a particularly good one.

“I consult with town governments and councils and help them see where they can maximize their profits and improve their offerings.”

“Sounds exciting.” And it sounded like he was better at what he did than she could ever hope to be about her own business. Korpanty Enterprises was too close to falling apart for her comfort, and if this bozo who was suing her—suing her!—succeeded in his nefarious plan, she’d be utterly destroyed.

“It’s been interesting,” Sly said. “I’m happy to be able to give back to my community now.”

“That’s nice and noble of you.” She smiled. It was a relief that there were good men in the world. Not like the head of Culpepper Holdings, the jerk who filed the lawsuit. If she ever got her hands on him, she would wrap those hands around his neck.

“You know what else I do that’s noble?” he asked.

“What?” He was bantering with her, and she liked it. A lot.

“I rescue damsels in distress.”

Rachel laughed. She also saw visions of herself being swept out of the top of a tall tower and carried away to a magnificent castle…with a magnificent bed…

“So what do you say?” Sly went on.

“To what?”

He shrugged, suddenly modest. “How about you and I get together later for a rescue supper? The diner where your P.O.S. rental is parked actually serves a mean burger.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she answered, faster than she should have. Having dinner with strangers wasn’t on her agenda. Nothing was on her agenda but reading the riot act to the loser who was on the verge of destroying everything she’d been working for for the last ten years and more. But she supposed she had to eat.

They reached the hotel, and with her suitcase in one hand, Sly still managed to hold the door for him.

“Thank you.” She nodded, giving him a fun, sultry look that she hadn’t even tried to use on anyone since college.

He responded with a flush that said she’d raised his blood-pressure just the way she’d intended to. Man, Sly was hot and noble, and he responded to her flirting just the way she wanted him to. She was a very good girl as far as girls from L.A. with her background went, but she’d definitely consider a little bit of naughtiness with this hunk of man.

“Ah, Mr. O’Donnell. Nice to see you in here today.”

Rachel’s head whipped around at the greeting from the hotel receptionist. Not for her, for Sly. Cracks formed in the edges of her sexy mood.

“Hey, Brian.” Sly nodded to the receptionist. “Do you have a reservation for a Miss Rachel—” He raised his voice at the end of the question.

Rachel swallowed. Mr. O’Donnell. Someone by the last name of O’Donnell was the CEO of Culpepper Holdings. She’d seen the paperwork. “S. O’Donnell.” Her lawyer had mentioned something about that O’Donnell recently having moved back to Culpepper after operating another company, O’Donnell Management, out of San Francisco. Too many dots connected.

She cleared her throat and said in a hoarse voice, “Rachel Korpanty.”

Sly’s grin fell away. His eyes grew wider. The flush on his cheeks burned redder.

“Miss Korpanty, if I could just see your license and the credit card you made your reservation with,” Brian the receptionist said.

Rachel couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She’d just accepted a dinner invitation from the man who was about to ruin her life.

 

Tycoon’s Tryst will be available on Friday, August 19th at Amazon and for Kindle Unlimited, and will be available at other retailers in three months!

Howard Haskell Takes A Bride – Release Day!

Okay, so it’s really re-release day, since Howard Haskell Takes A Bride was originally released as part of the Love’s Prelude box set. So if you purchased that box set, you already have Howard. But if not? Woo hoo! Now is your chance to see how the romance of Haskell, Wyoming’s founding father came about! And many apologies for those who prefer the sweet version, because this story is spicy-spicy, and really can’t be told any other way because, well, you’ll see. Why not get started on chapter one now? Then pop over to Amazon to purchase it for 99 cents!

Cincinnati, Ohio – 1844

 

Spring was a beautiful time of year for a ball. The elite citizens of the burgeoning town of Cincinnati, Ohio all agreed. They had come out to new mayor Henry Evans Spencer’s home in droves to prove it. Spirits were high amidst the swirling colors of ball gowns and the trilling of strings that played the latest dance music. Laughter blended with the melody. Well-dressed black servants—servants, not slaves this far north, although plenty of people in town supported slavery—carried trays of sweet wine and punch through the revelers.

Mayor Spencer’s ballroom windows were open to let in the breeze blowing off the Ohio River and the many canals that had so recently been built. Cincinnati had become a hub of commerce, thanks to those canals and its proximity to the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. It was the fastest-growing city in the United States, although the length and breadth of the country turned its attention more and more every day to the vast expanse of land to the West—the unknown frontier.

Elizabeth Ayers let out a heavy sigh and peeked through one of the ballroom windows, her eyes searching the western horizon. Whatever was going on in the untamed wilderness, it was probably a damn sight better than the insufferable ball.

“What I heard was that Mr. Bond passed her a secret missive in public, right under her mother’s eyes.” Her friend Madeline related the bit of gossip to their group with eager eyes…and more than a little gloating.

“How scandalous of her,” another friend, Henrietta, gasped.

“What did she do with the missive?” the third friend who made up their group, Isobel, asked.

“Well, first she…”

Elizabeth let her mind drift as Madeline went on with the story. She didn’t care what the snotty Miss Gertrude Havers had done to flirt with an unsuitable gentleman. She didn’t care about gossip and innuendo. Her heart ached in her chest, as if it was being called by some unseen force that she could feel but not hear. The western horizon was dark, but the darkness, the unknown was filled with excitement. The story of the West had only just begun to be written. Handfuls of settlers and trappers had made the perilous journey to places with strange names like Oregon and California. They’d brought back stories of rich land and opportunity for those willing to risk all to take it.

Elizabeth was not a risk-taker. She knew that, just as she knew Gertrude Havers was a fool to accept a love note from a man her parents didn’t approve of. But all the same, she longed for something different, something grander, something…more.

“Why, she must be daydreaming of him now.”

It took several more seconds for Elizabeth to catch that her friends had stopped gossiping and were now staring at her. With a start, she dragged her gaze away from the window.

“What?” She patted her coal-black hair, wondering if a piece of the elaborate style she’d had Trudy, her family’s black maid, fix for her was coming loose.

Elizabeth’s three friends exchanged knowing looks and coy smiles.

“See, I told you. Luckiest girl in Cincinnati,” Henrietta said.

“Or rather, Jonas Armstrong is the luckiest man,” Isobel added.

Ice ran down Elizabeth’s spine. “Yes. My parents are very happy with the match.” She glanced down, hoping to hide how unhappy she was.

“Jonas Armstrong is the handsomest, most enterprising young man in Cincinnati.” Madeline congratulated her. “He’s going to be as rich as Croesus before he’s thirty years old, if his father’s business empire continues the way it has been.”

“And we’ll be able to say that we’re best friends with his wife,” Isobel laughed.

Elizabeth tried to smile. She tried to encourage herself to feel something for her fiancé, to be grateful for the position she was about to take in society. The best she could manage was mild interest, but it didn’t outweigh the mountain of resentment at being handed off to a man she’d hardly had time to get to know as a pawn in her father’s business dealings.

“You can do more than simply call yourself a friend to the wife of the richest man in Cincinnati,” Elizabeth said. “You can rescue her from the drudgery of fulfilling that position.” Indeed, she would need her friends around her once her life was shackled to the rock of responsibility.

Her friends laughed. “You sound as if you’re going to the gallows instead of to a bed of satin.” Madeline cuffed her on the arm.

“I would give anything to be in your shoes,” Henrietta sighed.

“Would you?” Bold as brass, Elizabeth slipped out of her dancing slippers and pushed them across the floor with her toe to her friend. “Here you go.”

More tinkling laughter sounded from her friends, but all Elizabeth could think was how good it felt to wiggle her toes.

Before she could sober up and retrieve her shoes, prickles shot up the back of Elizabeth’s neck. She glanced up, subtly searching the crowded room to discover the source of the prickles. Someone was watching her. The light and color and sound of the ball was a raging distraction, but that didn’t stop the feeling. Her heart beat faster, as if fate was tapping her shoulder.

And then she saw him. Half a room away, standing in the frame of one of the French doors leading to the balcony, stood the most striking man Elizabeth had ever seen. He was tall, inches above the whispering couple that stood beside him. His shoulders were broad and his brown hair perfectly coifed. Most arresting of all was his smile. It was broad, bold, absolutely sure of itself. His smile reached his eyes, illuminating them across the distance. If she hadn’t known any better, Elizabeth would have thought that he was the mayor—no, the president, the king, the emperor. Her heart fluttered up to her throat, and she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. The regal young man—master of all he surveyed—was smiling at her.

“Who is he?” Isobel asked what Elizabeth’s heart was crying out.

Henrietta and Madeline turned to look as well.

Madeline hummed and tsked. “I think that’s Mr. Howard Haskell.”

“Who?” Henrietta wrinkled her nose.

Howard Haskell. Elizabeth repeated the name in her mind and heart. Something about it sizzled. Or perhaps that was his smile. He looked at her as though she was a rival to the sunrise. No one had ever looked at her with such longing, such appreciation before. Her heart beat double-time.

“Do we know him?” Isobel asked.

“No, and from what I understand, we don’t want to.” Madeline tilted up her nose.

“Why not?” Henrietta asked.

Madeline sniffed. “He’s an upstart nobody from who knows where. My papa says that he’s been nosing around Commerce Street for months now.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Isobel made a face.

“Maybe he’s in business?” Henrietta offered.

“More likely he’s looking for a job or trying to get involved in one scheme or another,” Madeline said.

“He could be a businessman himself,” Elizabeth offered. Yes, with a proud smile and confidence like that, she had no doubt he was an entrepreneur of some sort.

Madeline sniffed. “Him? Not likely. Everything I’ve heard suggests he’s loud, brash, and coarse. He’s certainly not our sort, you can be sure of that.”

Elizabeth nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. Howard Haskell had an air of excitement about him, a presence that made her feel as though he was inches away, even though he was at the other side of the room. He gave her a feeling, several feelings, and one of those was that he was indeed completely her “sort.”

 

Howard Haskell Takes A Bride is available exclusively at Amazon and for Kindle Unlimited for just 99 cents!