Hello, I’m Sierra Brave, multi-published author of steamy, spine-tingling romance. Thanks so much to Delilah Devlin for having me guest on her blog today. It’s a pleasure.

After I wrote Crystal Coast Christmas, a relative of mine had the nerve to ask, “Who goes to the beach at Christmas time?”

I’m sorry, but, say what?

At the time, I simply explained my main characters, Jessica and Chase, lived at the coast year round; but even if they didn’t, is there anything better than a day at the beach? No matter if the weather is hot or cold, I love the sand and surf. Even if I don’t dip a single toe into the water, I enjoy a trip to the coast. The minute I set eyes on the ocean, my entire body relaxes. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. In fact, medical research indicates, “Staring at the ocean actually changes our brain waves’ frequency and puts us into a mild meditative state.”

The waves aren’t the only relaxing element either. The beach offers a feast for many of the senses. Even the smell of the salt in the sea air refreshes and energizes me. Combine the beach and romance and a recipe for love emerges, and I wrote all the books in the Crystal Coast series with that concept in mind.

CRYSTAL COAST CHRISTMAS

After escaping a bad relationship and moving into her aunt’s guest quarters, marine biologist Jessica Butler has sworn off love and relationships. Still, she can’t resist a night of no-strings passion with hunky soldier, Captain Chase Culpepper. Their evening sizzles, leaving Jessica satisfied but wary. Her ex did a great job of destroying her self-confidence, leaving Jessica reluctant to take the plunge into romance again. While Chase is asleep, Jessica runs.

Chase can’t believe he’s found his sexual equal in Jessica. When he wakes up alone the next morning, he’s determined to make Jessica his, in spite of her reluctance to put her heart on the line.

Jessica’s sworn off men for good, but the faster she runs, the more Chase finds to love about her. What will it take for him to win her trust and her love?

SNIPPET

Jessica closed her eyes, delighting in Chase’s touch. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had taken such time and care to fine-tune her body, testing her flesh to learn where to touch to make her scream. His mouth found her other breast, his tongue tracing the rosy circle.
She squirmed beneath him, bucking her hips, her nails raking across his broad shoulders and down his muscular back. He blazed a trail leading him to her navel, which he nibbled and kissed, making her squeal. “Oh, God!”

BUY LINKS
Amazon: https://a.co/1iv5HPM
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/nz/book/crystal-coast-christmas/id1323820875
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crystal-coast-christmas-sierra-brave/1127628774
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/crystal-coast-christmas
Google: https://books.google.com/books?isbn=1682524337

CONTACT SIERRA
Email: sierra@sierrabrave.rocks
Twitter: @bravesierra
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Sierra-Brave-1422713414692067/
Website: https://sierrabrave.rocks/

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Read an excerpt from Lindsay McKenna’s heartwarming Boxcar Christmas! And if you’d like to read the story behind this book, head here: The story behind Boxcar Christmas.

CHAPTER 1

November 1
Hamilton, Montana

“It wasn’t much to look at. The wooden slats that made up the ancient red caboose were weathered, the boxcar sitting on the edge of a flat yellow grass meadow, backed by thousands of evergreens in western Montana. Early November wind whistled and cut at Jesse Myer’s exposed face. She felt the icy morning coldness seep through her rain dampened olive green Army jacket as she emerged cautiously out of the woods. She had discovered the boxcar while hunting rosehips scattered along the banks of the Bitterroot River. It was a source of protein for her tightened, gnawing stomach in want of food.

The large, oval-shaped meadow bordered the water and the rose hips were a substantial source of food when in the back country. She chewed slowly on another one, knowing it was packed with nutrition. Shivering, she felt hope spike through her as she walked out of the woods that lay west of Hamilton, a small hunting and fishing tourist town. She had followed the river in search of a place to pitch her tent outside the city limits.

Standing on the edge of the meadow, she fully surveyed it. It rained at dusk last night and then snowflakes had fallen thick and fast throughout the nighttime hours, and toward dawn the ground was covered with about six inches of the white stuff. As a gray dawn sluggishly crawled upon the eastern horizon, the flakes had turned into a soft, constant rain once more. Most of the snow had melted as the temperature rose, but patches of white still existed here and there–it was an Indian summer event. Jesse sincerely hoped that it meant warmer weather would come into the area and warm it up for a couple of weeks while she hunted for a place to live.

She’d discovered the ancient Union Pacific caboose at the edge of the meadow by accident. There was no telling how old it was, the slats of tongue-and-grove wood that composed its sides were worn , the paint chipped off but still solidly in place despite the harsh winter weather that it had obviously endured over the years. There were no railroad tracks around from what she could see. The under carriage of the caboose had been removed and it had been set upon a rectangular concrete slab, reminding her of the tiny house craze sweeping through her Millennial generation.

Her gaze absorbed the forty-foot long boxcar and she could see that at one time, it had been well cared for. But now, it looked utterly abandoned, the paint dull and peeling off the sturdy oak staves beneath it. Someone had brought this caboose out here. Was it someone who lived in Hamilton? Maybe the owner of this plot of land used it as a cabin to hunt and fish on weekends? Jesse had no idea, but there it was. Maybe it could be a possible home for her instead of the tent she had strapped to the huge knapsack she carried on her back. She wanted to make sure no one was living in it presently and thought about trespassing to find out–even though it went against her grain. Jesse couldn’t explain the allure to do just that.

She called out several times, her voice echoing around the meadow. There was no response or movement from inside the boxcar. The four windows along the meadow side were dirty, and she longed to clean them. Deciding either no one was home or living in it, she curved her hand around the rusted metal railing at the rear platform of the boxcar and took the first tentative step upward. The ends of each wooden step curved upward from age and now rested precariously on the metal frame beneath each one, the nails pulled out by rain and snow over the years. The step groaned. Not that she weighed that much. In the Army, she had been a hundred and sixty pounds; but three months ago, when she received an honorable medical discharge at the end of eight years of service, she had slowly lost at least twenty-five pounds due lack of appetite and no money to buy food. Her Army jacket, the only reminder of her life since age eighteen, hung loosely on her frame.

Her gloves were threadbare, her fingertips numb. She hauled herself up the rest of the creaking wooden steps and leaned forward, cupping her hands around her eyes and peering through the dirty glass of the door to see what was inside the caboose. It was a possible place to live but she had no money for a room rental. She’d just gotten a job at Katie’s Koffee Bean in Hamilton as a dish washer. But it was part time and Jesse had no money yet to rent a room in town, much less an apartment. She had lived in her tent since leaving the Army and was prepared to do it now, but maybe her luck was about to change.

Get your copy here!

When I was six years old, 1950, we lived on an island in the middle of the mighty Snake River near Ontario, Oregon. At six, I was going to the first grade. But there was a huge hurdle I had to walk every day to go meet the school bus. There was a huge train 3-span bridge stretching across the Snake River. And I had to walk it.

I don’t know if you can imagine this but my Scorpio mother taught me how to walk across it BY MYSELF after she showed me how to do it. There was a big problem: I was dizzied by the brownish/green water far below me if I looked down. And I’d lose my balance. The chances of me falling off the bridge were very real. Consequently, I learned to walk those trestles above the water WITHOUT LOOKING DOWN, which increased exponentially, my miscalculating and stumbling and thereby, pitching off the bridge, falling into the water and drowning. Even at five, I understand all of that! In 1950, there were no safeguards on bridges for anyone, much less a 5-year-old little girl.

My mother worked, so she too had to walk across that bridge twice a day, too. She would park our car on the bank, near the bridge, and walk across to our home on that island. She taught me that if a train came? I was to lay down in the middle of the tracks, flatten out and keep my arms and legs within the rails while the train passed above me. That way, I’d survive. Otherwise, I wouldn’t.

Now, it’s 2017. Can you imagine ANY mother doing that nowadays with a 5-year-old, much less a child of any age under 18? I’m sure you wouldn’t. She did NOT accompany me across the bridge after that—I was on my own. She was already at work and couldn’t do it even though she wanted too. My stepfather was too injured from the war to do much walking, so that was out, too. BUT….we had Blackie, an older Border Collie, who we found on the island when we moved into the house. He adopted us.

And he would accompany me to the bridge, stand watch, but not go across it because he was frightened of it, too. So was I. My greatest fear was not hearing a train coming behind me and then having to do my safety thing to survive it. That scared me more than walking across the three-span bridge. Blackie would then meet me in the afternoon when the school bus dropped me off and I had to walk the bridge to get back home.

I loved that dog with my life. He sensed how frightened I was of that bridge, sensing that if I looked down, I’d get dizzy, lose my balance and fall in and drown in the Snake River. He was my guardian.

I wanted to write a book about a Border Collie based upon my childhood experiences with Blackie. I wanted to honor him and his breed. So, there’s lots of wonderful emotions I was able to write into BOXCAR CHRISTMAS and I know my readers will feel it as they read Freya’s story of survival. And how she helped her 2 humans immensely and in important ways after they rescued her.

I went through a LOT of stock photos to find Blackie. I wasn’t sure I would, but as luck would have it, I did. And now the Border Collie on the book’s cover looks EXACTLY like my beloved Blackie. Every time I see that cover, I smile and my heart expands with love for my guardian angel dog who met me every day for a year when I had to walk that train bridge over the Snake River ;-).

BOXCAR CHRISTMAS

One train car. Two lost souls. Five adorable puppies.

Travis Ramsey is back in Hamilton, Montana, after 10 years serving as a Delta Force operator in Afghanistan. Now responsible for his dad’s fishing guide business, Travis has to deal with his increasingly distant and difficult father, and guilt over his brother’s death. His life takes a turn for the better when he meets Army vet Jesse Myers. Jesse is taken with his grandparent’s quirky boxcar cabin and wants to rent it. Taken by her beauty, and the familiar haunted look in her eyes, he makes her a deal. He will rent the boxcar to her for free in return for her help in making renovations.

Get your copy here!

Thank you so much, Delilah, for inviting me to visit your blog! I’m excited to be here!

Bad patches are a part of life, much as we might wish they weren’t. I’m just coming to the end of a bad patch myself – at least, I hope it’s the end! Following a bad fall on a running trail in the forest, I lost almost two solid months of work time while I was recovering from my injuries. Check out my website www.KaylaDrakeBooks.com for the story of that accident! All I can say is that I’m very grateful to be on the mend again.

My accident is nothing compared to what the characters in my new book have endured.

Daring Sarah

Sarah Williams can’t face the one-year anniversary of her husband’s tragic death, so she flees from Chicago to take the Scottish golf tour her husband had dreamed of doing someday. She has to live for both of them now, after all. While she’s there, she agrees to deliver a few small gifts to her friend Helen’s Scottish family. This puts her face to face with the grumpy, withdrawn, but incredibly handsome Duncan Mackenzie, a man haunted by a few ghosts of his own.

When Duncan promised his sister that he would welcome the American widow to Scotland, he’d expected to meet an elderly woman. Instead, he discovers a beautiful, willowy blonde who’s far too young to have faced such a tragedy. Suddenly, his own difficult past seems moderate in comparison. At least he survived. And now he wants to live again, really live, and it’s all because of Sarah.

Excerpt:

So she snuggled against his solid chest, there at the top of the spooky staircase, and whispered into his ear, “I’m not scared anymore. All my ghosts have gone away.”

“Ah, Sarah, I hope you mean that.” He wanted so much for it to be true. If she meant it, if her ghosts really had gone away, then he might have reason to hope.

He might have the freedom to kiss her, too. And more.

She felt so good in his arms, light and warm. Then way she curled into his chest, almost like a kitten, and the way her silky hair brushed against his throat–he needed her to mean it.

“Yes.” Her fingertips toyed with the hair at the back of his head. “I mean it.”

His self-control shattered. His body came alive with passionate need, and his face turned toward hers. This was what he wanted. This was what he needed, her warm breath against his cheeks and then her lips. He kissed her softly at first, wanting to draw her in. He needed to savor this moment.

But then he felt her reaction, almost like a sigh rippling through her body, and his yearning to taste her turned to something else. Something needy. Something demanding and insistent. He wanted to crush her against him, to feel every inch of her pliant flesh pressed against his length, to touch her and hold her close. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tasting hers, and almost without realizing it, he sat on one of the benches lining the hall. She was in his lap now and he didn’t have to hold her up. His hands were free to trace the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, and the length of her thigh. Her fingers were buried in his hair, and even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t have pulled away from the kiss.

This was what he wanted. A week ago, he hadn’t even known that this was possible, and now here she was in his arms, and he never wanted to let her go.

Available on:
Amazon | iBooks | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

UPDATE: The winner is Debbie Watson!

* * * * *

I’m all about the movies this holiday season.

Still have to see Bad Mom’s Christmas and Justice League.

Can’t wait to see Downsizing AND I’M DYING TO SEE THE NEW JUMANJI!!!

A set of movies I just bought to watch over the holidays is Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie. Haven’t seen them in forever, but not too long ago I wrote a story about it! “Her Heart’s Tomb” was featured in the Rogues anthology put together by the ever lovely Delilah Devlin! Here’s the AWESOME cover designed by Elle James! And a little tease from “Her Heart’s Tomb”.

When an international tomb raider finds herself trapped with the enemy, she unearths her most precious discovery in the only man she’s ever loved.

The tomb raider, Sonya, needed nothing but the pack on her back and the next treasure drawing her forward. She certainly didn’t need a man to help her. Absolutely not the one man she ever cared about. Jack.

Jack couldn’t let his heart get involved with any woman. Especially not a raider after the same jobs as him. He certainly couldn’t let his guard down around the one woman he wanted more than his next prize. Sonya.

Falling for each other was the last thing either of them wanted, until they’re trapped in a tomb together with no place to go but into each other’s arms.

Amazon – https://goo.gl/iUXaiZ
B&N – https://goo.gl/g0GR6J
Kobo – https://goo.gl/jV8QAu
Smashwords – https://goo.gl/LTaoHR
Are Café – https://goo.gl/hrIXSS
Ibooks – https://goo.gl/v8fJQc
Website – https://www.jenniferkacey.com/books/her-heart-s-tomb.html

GIVEAWAY

In honor of the above sexiness I’m having a giveaway for one lucky commenter!!

**GIVEAWAY – US ONLY** – Just look at all the awesomeness you could win!! Including a full print copy of the Rogues Anthology! So tell me a movie you can’t WAIT to see right now!!

I’ll pick a winner on Monday the 18th!! Good Luck!! PS –It’s always great to leave your email address in your comment so I can contact you! Hate not being able to give winners their goodies!!

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

About Jennifer

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

Website – Newsletter – The Decadent Divas– Amazon Page
Facebook – Facebook Author Page – Twitter – Goodreads – Pinterest

Greetings to Delilah and all her readers!

Thank you for letting me come over today and share a book with you. A Romance for Christmas is a sweet, feel-good holiday romance that reaffirms all you love about Christmas.

When the story opens, it’s Christmas Eve, and the end of a year in which everything Dara loves was lost. Everything but her little girl and a fierce determination to survive. When a cop brings Christmas to her door, he brings another gift she never expected to get.

“Mommy?” Christine’s young voice broke in on her thoughts.

Dara put down the romance she’d been re-reading, the favorite she’d had since she was sixteen. She’d sold all her others at a yard sale the previous week. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Why don’t we has a real tree for Chribmas?”

“Why don’t we ‘have’,” she corrected. “Come sit by me.” Dara patted the couch and tucked her chenille robe closer around her.

One arm around Matilda, her cloth doll, Christine climbed up beside her mother and cuddled.

Matilda’s going to need stuffing before long. Her head flopped forward, face against her flat chest. When did the lace on her dress get so ragged? Dara smoothed the doll’s dress. “Remember when Daddy went home to heaven before Christmas last year?”

Christine knuckled her eyes and yawned. “I ‘member.”

“And then Mommy got hurt in the car accident and couldn’t go to work?”

“Uh huh.”

Dara took a deep breath. “Well, it meant there was no money for a real tree this year. But I’m sure Santa will still bring you presents.” Gifts Dara bought by selling her entire collection of romance novels at a yard sale at her friend Sherilyn’s house. “And we drew a tree, right?” She pointed at the crayon-bright drawing taped to the wall. Construction paper ornaments decorated each branch.

“But it doesn’t smell like a Chribmas tree.”

Dara hugged her. “I know, baby. I know.”

“How will Santa leave his presents?” Christine pulled away and got on her knees. “He can’t put them under the tree, Mommy.”

“Oh, honey!” She ruffled her daughter’s hair, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Santa will find a way.” She leaned forward and kissed her little girl. “We should get you in bed so he can come. He can’t leave presents while you’re awake.”

Two ways to get this book free!

First, if you have Kindle Unlimited, you can get this book free. Second, if you buy the paperback for a friend, you get the Kindle version for yourself at no cost. Now that’s a bargain. Merry Christmas!

Kindle Unlimited https://amzn.to/1wpW8qE
Paperback: https://amzn.to/2nBb37J

FREE DOWNLOAD!

Here’s a free Christmas coloring book
for the kid in all of us!

https://kayelleallen.com/media/coloring-book-christmas.pdf

About Kayelle Allen

Author Kayelle Allen is a US Navy veteran and has been married so long she’s tenured. Come check out her site and learn about her books. She writes contemporary, plus Sci Fi with misbehaving robots, mythic heroes, role playing immortal gamers, and warriors who purr.

Website https://kayelleallen.com
Twitter https://twitter.com/kayelleallen
Facebook https://facebook.com/kayelleallen.author
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Lone Star Leathernecks, Volume 2

Wrangling a leatherneck takes skill . . . and patience.

Subject: Mateo Lopez, USMC retired

Current Status: Medical discharge, recovering

Mission: Rebuild his life following medical discharge from the Marines after suffering a spinal injury. Care for and train his beloved horses once again.

Obstacle: Claire Windsor. The London-born trainer comes to the ranch, keen on beginning a training program designed to turn its horses into therapy animals. The last thing Mateo wants is a change in routine or a beautiful, talented woman with a sexy accent telling him what to do. But avoiding her may prove impossible, especially when she stands between him and the work he loves.

Find excerpt for Heather Long’s As You Were, Cowboy below.

Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/Were-Cowboy-Lone-Star-Leathernecks-ebook/dp/B071CTJZDV/?tag=heathelongdot-20
Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/as-you-were-cowboy-heather-long/1126245209?ean=9781501171185
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/as-you-were-cowboy/id1227571907?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/as-you-were-cowboy
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=VaivDgAAQBAJ

Series Reading Order:
Semper Fi Cowboy
As You Were, Cowboy

About the Author

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 start with What a Wolf Wants, Witches of Mane Street, Mongrels, and the forthcoming 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 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: https://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: https://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Newsletter: https://eepurl.com/iKxQ5

Excerpt of As You Were, Cowboy by Heather Long

Anger filled Mateo Lopez like hot shrapnel bursting with every word the gorgeous blonde issued in her cultured British accent. White-hot lances of pain radiated along his spine. All he’d done was move a few damn bales of hay, and it had left him sweating and gasping for breath. Accepting his limitations and giving in to weakness were not in his wheelhouse, although he’d elected to make the walk to his truck for the prescription the doctor insisted he fill. If he could avoid taking the pain pills he would. Now her.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, and he could practically feel the stiffness of her tone, as though a riding crop were delivering a fresh welt of pain across his back. “Mr. Wilks?”

“I’m not Tanner,” Mateo admitted. As grating as her pronouncement had been, his mother would tear a strip off his hide if he didn’t dispel the misunderstanding. “I’m Mateo Lopez, ranch manager.” Technically, he was the assistant ranch manager to his father. They split the ranch tasks between them. “I handle the trainers as well.”

He was the trainer.

The horses were his.

This . . . woman was not going to just walk in and take over like she owned the place.

“Please accept my apologies, Mr. Lopez. I thought you were Mr. Wilks.” Unease left her manner stilted, and a tiny frown line appeared between her cornflower-blue eyes, which gleamed with intensity even in the barn’s shade. Sugar nickered again and stomped her feet, disturbed by their nearness and likely offended by the lack of attention. The filly was lovely, and a diva in her awareness of it.

With a light cough to clear her throat, she recaptured his attention and continued, “If you could point me in Tanner’s direction, then I’ll excuse myself.”

“I have no problems excusing you, but the ranch is private property and, as I already stated, I oversee all the horses here. We don’t need a new trainer.” It went against the grain on every level. A spasm worked its way along his spine, and he gritted his teeth. Yes, Tanner had mentioned the potential plan—keyword potential. He hadn’t mentioned actually hiring anyone. Mateo attributed it to keeping the Colonel focused on his recovery. That was why, right?

“Mr. Lopez, I’m not sure what I’ve done to offend you, but my contract is with Mr. Wilks.” The stress of the word contract couldn’t be missed, nor could the way her chin lifted and her shoulders went back. Even her nose seemed a little higher, as though she physically held herself back from fighting with him.

“Lady, I don’t know what you think is going to happen, but no trainers touch these horses without my approval.” The horses were everything to him. There was no way Tanner was going to usurp his work to bring a Brit.

“I know exactly what is going to happen. I left a very lucrative and successful training program in Stafford to travel several thousand miles to make a dream come true. I apologize if I’ve offended you, but until Mr. Wilks decides to buy out my contract, I’m not going anywhere.”

Stubborn defiance flashed in those willful eyes. Red flushed her cream complexion, which drew his attention to the scatter of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. They contrasted against her sharp look, and he couldn’t look away.

“What you left or didn’t leave is not my concern,” he said through his teeth. The spasm in his back was continuing to lash at his spine like blazing hot barbed wire. The need to collapse weighed on him, but he refused to give in. Not when he faced an opponent in better physical condition than he. Even if she was overdressed for the heat. To give in to weakness in front of her would be to concede that he couldn’t do his job.

Despite the rigidity of her posture, she couldn’t disguise the concern flickering in her eyes. The last thing he wanted was her sympathy. Not when she stood there with clenched fists. “I’ll leave you to whatever it is you’re doing and seek Tanner out myself.”

Though she turned on her heel and began walking away, Mateo couldn’t just let Claire leave.

“You have no business wandering around the ranch by yourself.” Not dressed like she was—she’d get heatstroke. “The ranch covers several hundred acres, and that doesn’t include the outer pastures.”

Halting, she still held her hands clenched tight as she turned to face him. “Mr. Lopez, was it?”

A shiver of humor evaded the pain storming his system. There was something about the way she framed his name in her perfectly sensible, clipped accent. Melodic and insulting all at once.

“You can call me Mateo.” He managed a smile, though it required him to clench his teeth.

“I’d prefer to keep the address formal in order to stay professional.” The brilliant blue of her eyes turned positively frosty. “That being said, Mr. Lopez, I spoke to a Maria. She directed me to the house, and I chose to stop at the barn on my way there. My mistake. I won’t continue to trouble you.”

The fingers of agony digging into his spine began to twist, and Mateo braced a hand against the door to the stall. White-knuckling, he managed to stay on his feet. A man appeared in the entry to the barn, backlit by the late-day sun, the hat on his head giving away his identity.

“Miss Windsor,” Tanner called as he strode down the aisle. “Maria told me you were here. Was on the way to the house when I saw the car outside.”

Shit. Mateo wanted to curse. Bad enough the foreigner was here. His best friend confirming her story, though—that made it all the worse.