Given the theme and the current weather conditions outside my hotel, I chose a snippet from True Heart. I’m in Kansas City attending the RT Convention. I packed for hot weather and only brought a light zip-up in case the evenings were cool. My only shoes are FitFlops. So as you can imagine, once the snow started, I was pretty much trapped inside.

With snow on my mind, I chose a snippet from the opening scene of True Heart. The heroine is moving into a remote cabin on the ranch owned by True and Lonny Heart. She’s managed to slip on ice on her steps just as True and Lonny are riding up…

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Two men plus one woman equals three bodies on fire…

True Wyatt’s hands are going to be full enough keeping the herd alive through the dead of winter. The last thing he needs to hear is that his brother Lonny has rented out their isolated hunting cabin to a reclusive writer—especially a sassy, disaster-prone brunette. Who has the time to babysit a city girl until Spring?

With a deadline looming, erotica writer Honey Cahill is looking forward to six distraction-free weeks to finish her next book. However, between Lonny’s flirty sensuality and True’s hard-edged intensity, the Wyatt brothers set the stage of her imagination for a winter of wicked delights.

The fire that destroys the cabin, though, is as real as it gets. Forced to seek a bed under True and Lonny’s roof, the temptation to experiment—all in the name of research, of course—is overpowering. One night in their arms doesn’t feel like enough; it feels like more. Particularly with one cowboy who fires all her cylinders…

Warning: It’s a Devlin ménage—expect men with stamina and not an ounce of mercy to behave like sex gods, and the lucky woman to love every minute of it. A little domination goes a long, long way…

Honey had never seen a man look so angry and flummoxed at the same time. And that shouldn’t have been the case since she managed to ruffle men’s feathers faster than a hurricane. It was a talent.

She came up on her elbows in the mud and glanced at the papers cartwheeling across the yard. If you could call it a yard. The space around the cabin was more of a rough-cut clearing.

Nothing fancy, Lonny had warned her. He hadn’t over-represented the small two-room cabin with an efficiency kitchen and tiny bathroom.

And yet the rugged utility of the place appealed. The cabin smelled of pine sap and wood smoke, and when she’d stood on the porch the view of the mountains around her took her breath away.

The view from the ground right this second wasn’t that bad either.

“I’ll get those,” Lone Wyatt said. He gave her a quick glance, raised an eyebrow at his brother, then dismounted in a fluid, graceful move that had her envious of every flex of muscle that delivered him to the ground. Could any two brothers be more alike and conversely so different at the same time?

True Wyatt moved with rugged force. She couldn’t help wondering how that economy of motion and deliberation translated to how he moved in a bed. True wore “Cowboy” like some men wore Armani.

Her gaze crept upward from his scarred boots, past legs encased in sturdy, mud-stained denim, to a dark, dirt-streaked coat that fell to his knees. He looked like he’d stepped out of an old western movie. Even the cowboy hat, broad-rimmed and shadowing his deep-set eyes, emphasized his individualistic, rugged appeal.

Her glance flew back to Lonny, who chased the newspaper clippings and her own dog-eared notes across the clearing.

Lonny was a sweetheart. A flirty man with wicked intentions in his dark green eyes. She’d already decided she wouldn’t turn down an invitation to go to bed with the man. But that was before she’d clapped eyes on the brother.

She came back to True to find his gaze narrowed on her face. All brooding darkness and hard-edged features. Same dark green eyes, weathered skin and dark brown hair as the brother, but his expression set him apart. Made him seem even older than the thirty-six years Lonny had volunteered.

Lonny was in his late twenties, still footloose and straining against obligation. Facts she’d gleaned easily the first time they’d met. After all, she was a writer and a master at pulling information from a person without him realizing just how she did it.

Something told her big brother wouldn’t be nearly as easy to pump for information. “Pump” stuck in her mind, and her brain again leapt to sexier pursuits. Read the rest of this entry »