A New Release & Series from P.J. O’Dwyer #giveaway
“O’Dwyer displays an unfailing instinct for building and maintaining story tension and intensity, and for creating complications as believable as they are compelling.”
—USA Today
One girl. Two horses. And a past itching to catch up. . . .
Fourteen-year-old Colorado juvenile delinquent Mackenzie Lynn Stonebreaker doesn’t do horses. But the volunteer gig at Hunter’s Moon Ranch has its perks. With cold, hard cash she lifts from its boarding fund, Mac’s poised for escape to search for her birth mom when an Arabian mare named Bella is viciously struck by a shotgun blast. Alive and talking—well, telepathically only to Mac—the horse begs for her help.
Talking to horses totally freaks Mac out. But leaving Bella and her colt Raider isn’t an option. Ditching her plans for now, Mac becomes a modern-day Dr. Doolittle, looking for justice. Only Mac tends to act first and ask questions later. When her protective instinct for the horses gets in the way of her good sense, Mac finds herself, once again, on the other side of the law.
Dodging a return trip to juvie, thanks to the ranch owner’s partner Dr. Rachel Hunter, Mac is now in the pediatrician’s custody and living a life she could only dream. With newfound friendships, the gift of gab with two quirky horses, her first kiss, and a chance at that family she’s always wanted, she can’t quite let go of one thing.
Abandoned and unloved by her mother, Mac wants to know why. But sleuthing for answers puts Mac on a collision course with the past—one that will shatter everything she believes in about herself and those she’s come to love and trust at Hunter’s Moon.
Mac just may find that what she’s been looking for her whole life is the exact opposite of what she will get.
Excerpt from Claimed –
He seemed to think he was so smart at figuring her out. She’d figured out a few things of her own, too. Like how at home he seemed surrounded by pictures of old Chevys. Or sitting at a booth so sparkly she was afraid the Wicked Witch of the West would swoop down on them and steal the ruby-red booth right from under their butts.
He had no problems finding the diner, either.
“You come here a lot?”
“Used to.”
Yep. I called it.
He blew out a heavy breath. “I shared a squat house with a buddy of mine about two blocks away.” He became reflective and turned away to gaze out the window. The sun that had finally shown its face had dipped below the horizon, giving off a fuzzy pink glow in the distance.
Dinnertime.
“Can we go? Bella eats dinner at seven-thirty.” Miss Rachel had taught her how to mix her supplements and grain before she’d gone back to Rifle House on Sunday night. Bella liked the way Mac prepared her meals. She needed to keep her weight on, but she wouldn’t if Mac missed her feeding time. Mac fell back in the seat, waiting while Gil reached back for his wallet. He’d said she was into saving horses—like he wasn’t. “Thanks for the other day.”
He checked the bill and then peered over at her, his brown eyes questioning.
“Bella. You offered to buy her from those losers.”
He shrugged. “Could never pass up a bargain.” He pulled out a twenty and left it on the table. “Let’s go.”
Yeah, right. He could hide under all that tough-guy stuff. But she knew better. Mac got up and grabbed the box, following him toward the door.
Gil eyed her and the box she held tightly under her arm. “Ya know, sometimes the past is best left in the past.” He clucked his tongue. “Just my take.”
Mac said nothing. Maybe he was right. Honestly, she hadn’t even taken a peek. She was afraid . . . afraid of what she might find.
They headed for the door. A blur of a man outside swung it open, his meaty shoulder colliding with Gil’s. “Watch where the . . .”
Mac couldn’t move, her eyes riveted on the scary dude’s bulging, tattooed arms and somewhat confused by his sudden loss for words. Dressed in black with blond hair buzzed so short his scalp glistened under the recessed lights, he studied Gil. Not in a good way. He arched one brow with a wicked scar over an eye so blue it looked unnatural.
Mac grew cold. She didn’t like this guy. Didn’t like the way his crooked mouth smiled at Gil. It wasn’t friendly. It was vicious.
Scary Cue Ball gave a harsh laugh. “Son of a bi—”
“Hey, buddy.” Gil’s deep, raspy voice had bite. He hooked his chin toward Mac. “We got kids here.”
The guy straightened like he’d been warned not to slouch. He twisted his thick neck, irritated like, his interest shifting toward Mac.
Seriously?
His head tilted. Nosey Cue Ball was trying to read her box.
She angled it away from him.
As if waking from a trance, Cue Ball’s head popped up, and he leveled his gaze at Gil. “She yours?”
“No!” Mac croaked. “I work with him.” No way did she want this guy thinking they were related. If it got bad, she’d bolt—box and all—and leave Gil. But she hoped that wouldn’t happen. After today, she had made up her mind. She liked him.
Gil opened the door, the tendon in his jaw flexing. “Come on, kid.”
Her body jerked forward more than anxious to get out of there. She stepped over the threshold, nervously glancing back.
Cue Ball’s hand shot out. The clear stone in his silver pinky ring flashed, and he grabbed Gil by the shoulder before he could clear the doorway. “When you get sprung?”
Gil visibly winced, and then he nodded toward a bench outside. “Take a seat, kid. I’ll be back.”
He disappeared inside, letting the door close.
Mac stood with her eyes glued to the door. Voices rose, and her legs trembled. If she’d ever experienced an earthquake, it couldn’t have shaken her sense of survival more than now. Caroline’s words from a few nights ago hurtled toward Mac.
He’s been in the joint.
The door swung open. “Let’s go.” Gil grabbed her arm, making her bobble her box.
“Hey.” Mac’s brows snapped together.
He eyed her and then the box, making a nasty face at it. “I told you, kid. The past will come back to bite you in the—”
“A double S.”
He groaned and tugged her toward his truck. “Watch your mouth.”
Mac blew out an agitated breath, “But I didn’t . . .” Mad, but mostly still scared and a little amused—Gil was a cusser even though he pretended he wasn’t—she allowed him to steer her to the safety of his truck.
Whatever past was going to come back and bite her, it couldn’t be nearly as ugly and creepy as scary Cue Ball.
She didn’t have to worry about Gil getting a conscience and telling Miss Rachel about her activities today. Looked like Miss Rachel’s ranch manager had his own dark past, and Mac had seen him.
P. J. O’Dwyer donates ten percent of all book and jewelry sales to horse rescue to help in their mission of rescue, rehabilitation, and education.
P. J. O’Dwyer is an award-winning author of young adult and romantic suspense. She’s an active member of Romance Writers of America. When asked where she gets her story ideas, she laughs ruefully and says, “It helps being married to a cop.” She lives in Maryland with her family.
Connect with P. J.
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Giveaway:
Keepsake Necklace Inspired by Heroine Mac Stonebreaker
Thanks for reading!
Laura
