Happy Saturday! Enjoy this long excerpt, then follow the links at the bottom to check out more “saturday snippets”! This one’s about a dime novelist who discovers her story is coming true. She’s a little odd, the story’s a little odd—happy reading!

“…Sisters Devlin and Jackson team up with Chase to create sizzling stories of delicious, daring men and even wilder women. Make sure you’ve got time to kill, because once you start you’ll want to read this collection in one sitting.”
4 ½ Stars, RT BOOKreviews

These women like their horses fast and their men hard. And they always know how to get what they want…

When Prudence Vogel finally meets Jake White Eagle, she discovers he really is the tall, handsome hero of her novel. And his dark sensuality and raw masculinity make her eager to explore every intimate inch of his beautiful body…

Serendipity, Montana 1883

Prudence Vogel didn’t want to miss a thing.

She wet the tip of a sharpened pencil on her tongue and steadied a writing tablet on her lap, ready to capture the last moments of her journey. But, as was her nature, her mind wandered, and instead she began to write the adventure playing out in her imagination.

Katarina’s nose wrinkled at the smell of stale beer and dust as she slipped behind the saloon and peered into the darkened room—

The stagecoach jolted as a wheel slipped into another deep rut on the rough trail, sending her pencil scraping off the edge of the pad.

She sighed, resigned she’d have to commit the final moments of her journey to memory and pick up her heroine’s adventure after she arrived at her destination.

She slid her tablet into the pocket of her valise behind her dog-eared copy of The Adventures of Katarina, her latest, well only, publishing credit. She’d kept the novel in clear view in hopes of drawing a comment to give herself an opportunity to sell one of the many copies she’d brought with her.

Not the dog-eared copy—that one contained penciled notes of the details she’d gotten wrong. For that was the purpose of this journey. Prudence Vogel had never traveled outside the city of Chicago, yet her first novelistic experience was an adventure tale set in the wild frontier, featuring a tall, handsome hero she’d only fantasized about. She needed to know whether she’d been wrong.

For all she knew, the real Jake White Eagle was a short, squat man who could suck his whiskey through the space where his front teeth ought to be. She’d braced herself the whole journey for disappointment because she’d built such high hopes he’d be the hero she’d envisioned—the kind of man a real “Katarina” would admire.

Tales of his wild youth, his talent with a gun, his time spent scouting with Wild Bill Cody for the 5th Cavalry had fired her imagination since she’d come across the first mention of his name in the Chicago Tribune.

After that she’d scoured every newspaper she could get her hands on, searching for a description of the man and his exploits.

Physical descriptions had been hard to come by—“burnished skin” and “the deadly stare of the black-eyed Indian” hadn’t told her whether his jaw was square or rounded, or his nose was a sculpted blade or broad and bumpy. And it would have been helpful to know whether Katarina would have to lift her patrician chin to kiss his lips. Since she’d lacked definitive answers to her questions, in her mind she’d created an image of the man she wanted him to be.

However, news of his dangerous exploits had been much easier to find. The man had earned quite a reputation as a gunslinger as he’d roamed the western territories. Then for some reason, last year, he’d settled in Serendipity, Montana. Not Deadwood or any number of more recognizable wild, western towns, but an unknown place with a whimsical name.

In her research, she’d missed the reason for his inexplicable move. Now, she wanted the truth for the sequel to her book, and detailed descriptions to bring her wild, west adventures to life.

Prudence pulled back the curtain to take a look outside, blinking against a cloud of dirt stirred up by the stage’s team of horses.
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