UPDATE: The winner is Katherine Robinson!

* * * * *

My daughter has perfect teeth. Not a cavity. Not ever. Thanks to genetics and modern dentistry. I, on the other hand, have horrible teeth. I have soft, chalky back teeth, prone to cavities. Which means, I have a few crowns back there. Last night, while I sat on my daughter’s sofa, she of the perfect teeth, one of my crowns fell out. Do you know, I had that one so long, I didn’t even know there was a crown on that tooth. Color me surprised!

Which really makes today a shitty, shitty day. I am going to call the dentist this AM to request an emergency appointment. This afternoon, I have a doctor’s appointment at the VA in Little Rock (oh joy). I had hoped for a little time to write. Now, I have a microscopic window open to write. So, I have a related question. Comment and you might win a free story! Don’t you love how I work real life around to having something to do with books? 🙂

For a chance to win your choice of one of these
Cowboys on the Edge stories, answer me this!

Do you have perfect teeth? Have you ever had a dental emergency?

(Click on a cover if you’d like to learn more!)

Don’t know what you’re missing in this cowboy series? Read a sexy excerpt…

Controlled Burn

This flame doesn’t need a match…

One high school prank gone wrong shouldn’t define the rest of Carly Lohan’s life. But setting fire to Caldera Canyon isn’t something townsfolk will ever forget. As the last part of her final act of restitution, she’s among the group of volunteers assigned to keep a prescribed burn of underbrush and grass from “running over the rim” into the ranches ringing the park.

Local rancher and volunteer firefighter Jeremiah McCord doesn’t trust the reformed firebug anywhere near the canyon’s controlled burn. Determined to keep her on a short rein, he’s everywhere she is, watching her. His distrust and determination sparks a plan for some sexy revenge—one that will get them both too close to the flames.

Get your copy here!

Long excerpt from Controlled Burn

Caldera, Texas had been aptly named by its founders. Although technically late winter, the air was unseasonably warm—hot as a witch’s cauldron, and the town just as cursed.

Or, at least the place was so far as Carly Lohan was concerned.

Carly closed her car door and drew a deep breath, thinking she’d as soon have a root canal as walk into the midst of the people gathering inside the community center. All gazes would turn her way. They’d nudge their friends, and the ugly whispers would begin.

She might as well have had a big “A” branded on her forehead, but not for adultery like Hester Prynne—her crime was far worse. Arson wasn’t something folks around here would ever forgive.

Not that she thought of herself as an arsonist. However, a charge like that, even against a minor, clung like skunk spray. Which was why she’d headed to college as soon as she’d graduated high school and now lived a town away. Tonight, she had to face Calderans one last time.

Gripping her purse like it was a shield, she strode toward the door. Before she even reached the steps, she heard a whistle sound from behind her.

“Well, would you lookie there. If it ain’t Carly Lohan. Long time, no see.”

If she were ninety, she would have recognized Tater Johnson’s nasal twang. He’d taunted from her first day in kindergarten and had been the biggest thorn in her side all throughout school. The fact she was here today was partly because of him. She forced a smile and turned. “Good to see you, Tater.”

He smoked a cigarette while sitting on the edge of his truck bed. “Burn up any canyons lately?” he drawled.

Wow. He didn’t even take a second to work up to that. Carly stopped the automatic wince before he could see it. The last thing she should do was rise to a single one of his taunts. “Not lately. You going to the meeting?” she asked, tilting her head toward the open doors.

“Course.” He tipped back his cowboy hat and gave her a narrowed stare. “Keepin’ Caldera Canyon safe is important to me—which is why I’m wonderin’ what the hell you’re doin’ here.”

Carly felt her face heat. Before she could think of a more mature reply, she shot him the bird and turned on her heel. Good Lord, she’d only been back for five minutes and was already reverting to her old ways.

His grating chuckles followed her inside the large hall. The instant satisfaction she’d felt at giving the rude gesture faded as she entered and searched the rows of metal folding chairs. All seats were taken—of course, except for a couple right in front of the speakers’ table. Shit.

She didn’t have a choice. She’d be sitting across from the current sheriff of Caldera County. Her gaze snagged on the man sitting beside him, Jeremiah McCord, and her stomach sank at the glare he leveled. Shit-shit-shit.

Only to herself would she admit the man intimidated her. He was a large man—well over six feet and broad. And he was handsome when his features weren’t set into grim lines as they were now.

“Let’s call this meeting to order,” a man dressed in a park ranger’s uniform said. “We’re all here to talk about the prescribed burn we’re implementing inside the park four days from now.”

She turned her attention to the speaker. At least, he wasn’t staring at her. She didn’t know him, so she kept her gaze glued to the ranger as he started the slide show.

Pictures of happy campers sitting around campfires flashed on the screen, followed by more photos of the rugged bluffs surrounding the park. “Our goal, come Monday morning, will be to burn brush and dried vegetation from the canyon floor, while keeping the fire under control and halting it before the blaze runs the rim of the canyon, endangering local ranches. We won’t touch the areas around the campgrounds or the park service buildings. Those have been kept clear of excess brush by camp personnel. We’re focusing our efforts on the areas north of the campgrounds, through the upper canyon, toward the north rim of the park.”

The next picture was of a jackrabbit hiding in the brush. “A prescribed burn is good for the canyon’s plants and trees, and for its wildlife. By removing underbrush and new seedlings, we give the forest a chance to grow and deprive wildfires of fuel.”

The next photo was of rows of volunteers digging firebreaks, with flames licking across dry grass. The flames blazed orange, yellow, purple—so pretty—she couldn’t stop herself from startling when the slide changed to a photograph of those same volunteers, covered in soot, but smiling as they stood in front of a scorched patch of earth, trees with their bark only slightly singed.

“This is the outcome we want. A safe burn. A way to renew the earth and prevent uncontrolled blazes in the future…”

Carly drew a deep breath, and then made the mistake of again looking at Jeremiah. His gaze bored into her, cold and hard. Had he seen how the picture of the fire held her mesmerized? Her stomach tightened, and she felt a little sick.

Keeping her expression neutral, she returned his stare. She wasn’t that same reckless girl. She’d done her penance, and then some. Performing this last act of restitution would expunge her juvenile record, and she could function without worrying someone would discover her past mistake. She could submit a job application without her hand shaking, because she feared a background check would reveal her crime. And maybe she could finally make use of her teaching degree.

Thank God, she didn’t have to work around here. Jeremiah would consider it his civic duty to make sure everyone kept a close eye on her. He wasn’t exactly the most forgiving man, and if she couldn’t find a better job, she’d never be able to repay him for what he’d lost.

The rest of the presentation droned on and on. The park ranger was followed by the local fire chief, and then the park service expert they’d brought in to help supervise the burn. She tried to pay attention, but felt as though a hundred accusing fingers were pointed at her back. So she sat rigid in her seat, arms crossed, waiting for the briefing to end. She’d get her team assignment and head back to the motel where she’d left her suitcase. Then she could close her door and sleep until Saturday’s training.

Seven years hadn’t been nearly long enough to ease the feeling of guilt that weighed her down. Moving away had helped her live a more normal life, but she’d had these little reminders every so often, part of the deal the judge had made with her to protect her future. Participating in the controlled burn inside the park would be the last time Calderans would have to suffer her presence. And she theirs.

At last, the park ranger turned off the projector. Everyone rose and made their way to the board where team assignments were listed.

She waited patiently while being jostled—probably deliberately. At last, she scanned the list.

Her name was listed on a team of ten—and led by Jeremiah McCord. Shit.

Read the rest of this entry »

During the late 1800’s, cowboys drove millions of cattle to the railroad towns of Abilene, Dodge City, Wichita, and Newton. A long trip, men were out on the trail for twelve to sixteen weeks, covering over a thousand miles to get the herd to market. In Texas, this process usually started in February with the ranchers branding all their cattle. Then they would decide on which ones to sell. With over a thousand heads, a team of maybe fifteen men handled the herd on the trail.

These men faced all types of hardships: sickness, Indians, bad weather, and hours on end in the saddle. The trail boss took the lead and scouted ahead for water, grass, and places to bed down for the night. The cattle strung out in a long line. Two men would ride at the front of the line, keeping the lead cows pointed in the direction they wanted them to go. Several other cowboys would ride intermittently along the long trail. These flank riders kept the cattle moving. At the end of the line were the rear riders, making sure no animal strayed from the herd. These men ate the dust of the group.

After a long cattle drive to Abilene, Trent McCall just wants to unwind. But in his absence, his father’s been making wedding plans…for Trent. The last thing he needs is a spoiled and pampered socialite for a wife. What he needs is a hard drink and a willing woman. An uncomplicated woman who understands a man’s need for release after a hard ride. Good thing he’s got one waiting for him.

Four years back East haven’t changed Catherine Turnberry’s mind. Her heart is set on neighboring rancher, Trent McCall. When an end-of-the-trail party threatens to put him in the arms of another woman, Catherine grabs the bull by the horns. Taking the place of the whore hired to pleasure Trent, she intends to give him a welcome he’ll never forget and show him what Texas passion is all about.

Buy Links: 
AT Amazon  | UK | CA |  AU |
smashword  |  Kobo  | B&N  |

Exclusive Excerpt…

“It’s too hot for a fire,” Catherine groaned at the wooden walls and ignored the book on her lap. A light breeze from the cracks in the window’s shutters caressed her neck and blew under the collar of her cotton robe. Her gaze darted to the bed in the corner. A worn quilt she’d allowed to air out all day covered the sagging mattress. Clean sheets lay underneath the spread.

Should she turn down the covers to make the bed look more appealing? Or would he care more about what she had on?

She ran her hand along her ribcage and pictured the black corset under her robe. The tight fit hugged her waist and lifted her breasts. She shifted in the rocker, and the soft fabric of her favorite pink bloomers caressed her legs. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Could she really go through with this?

And what was taking Ray so long?

Did Tom forget to tell him?

The sound of hoof hitting the hard ground outside awoke her nerves.

Could that be Ray or someone else?

The thud of boots hitting the porch pulled the breath from her lungs. The latch clicked and the door opened. A large man filled the doorway.

Four years hadn’t changed Ray’s tall muscular frame. Wide shoulders, beefy arms, narrow hips, and a flat stomach, he stood like a Viking ready to do battle. Heat, with a touch of fear, filled her body at the thought of him lying over her. She drew in a hurried breath and closed her book before standing.

“Well, now, did you think I’d ever arrive?” He shut the door and tossed his hat onto the table by the door. Dark curly hair circled his head and his dark brown eyes met hers.

About the Author

Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way. Influenced by sci-fi programs, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where erotic moments come to life in a great read.

Naughty or Nice? Read her books and decide.

Visit her at https://anitaphilmar.com/ and save 20% on her books.

As a special thank you, Delilah for inviting me onto your blog, I am offering my latest boxed set, Men of the West Books 1-4 (usually $6.99), to her followers for $1.99.

(FOUR full-length novels for 50 cents each for a limited time only!)

Since I live in Texas and adore all things western, I enjoy fantasizing and writing about hot alpha cowboys and the women they love.   You won’t want to miss these four passionate tales while they are on sale.

Wild Lady
Just when Texas bride Kit Jackson has her life all planned out: the perfect wedding, the perfect husband, the perfect future, Ted, the man she loved and lost returns…with his small motherless daughter.

The Fairy Tale Girl
When a woman on the run falls for her new neighbor, a rancher with a wounded heart, neither can resist the other. But will shocking secrets from their pasts threaten their second chance at love?

Meant to Be
Leslie knows too well the dangers of falling for a man who can’t care for her. So, why did she invite this rugged stranger into her bed the first night she met him? Worse, what should she do to salvage her fresh start when she discovers he’s her new boss and he’s determined to fire her?

Golden Man
Prim and proper Jenny Zachery was the small, Texas town’s preacher’s daughter. Blade Taylor, her brother-in-law, was the local bad boy. What nobody knew was that he’d always been her secret desire.

When she becomes a widow faces financial ruin, Blade comes home for good. But will she give their love a second chance?

Order now:
https://www.amazon.com/Men-West-Books-1-4-Major-ebook/dp/B06X1GGSSS/
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/men-of-the-west-books-1-4-ann-major/1125827099?ean=2940154193198
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1208154631
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/men-of-the-west-books-1-4

About Ann Major

USA Today bestselling author writes spicy contemporary romances and westerns. She loves hot Alpha guys who wear cowboy hats…and cats…cats with or without cowboy hats.

Website: www.Annmajor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annmajorauthor/?ref=hl
Twitter: @AnnMajor
Blog: https://www.annmajor.com/blog/

Wind River Rancher:  Shattered, but still fighting to be whole once more…

Wind River Rancher, Book 2, Wind River Valley series, s an emotional story that will suck every reader in.  I’m known for gritty, visceral and emotional writing, and this book is no exception. It just happened to catch the eye of Publisher’s Weekly and it received a ‘starred’ review (like winning an Oscar) on 12.3.16.

This series I’m writing is about military vets returning home from combat from all over the world, mostly focused on the Middle East.  Having been in the US Navy during the Vietnam War era (I served stateside as a weather forecaster at USNAS Moffett Field (now known as Silicon Valley) near San Francisco, California.

Book 1, Wind River Wrangler, the hero is an ex-Army Special Forces operator, Roan Taggart.  He has left the Army with PTSD, no longer able to function at that high level any longer in black ops duties.  He gets a job as a wrangler at the Wind River Ranch, where it’s quieter, it’s out in Nature and he is slowly healing from his internal PTSD wounds.   Only, as life usually slaps us in the face, one way or another, he’s thrown back into a threat/life-and-death situation with Shiloh Gallagher, a writer from New York City.  She’s escaped to the ranch to hide from a stalker who has torn her life apart.  Figuring if she lives in Wyoming to write, her stalker won’t find her and she can breath once more, not look over her shoulder 24/7/365.  Roan’s peaceful, back water life explodes when the stalker locates Shiloh.  Once again, he’s thrust back into a combat situation.  And for Shiloh, the nightmare begins anew when she thought she’d found safety at the ranch.

Book 2, Wind River Rancher, the hero is an ex-Marine Corps captain who commanded a company of Marines over in Afghanistan for years. The deployments, the combat, eventually took a toll on him, too. Reese Lockhart was a twenty-year man, his only dream was to become a Marine officer and protect his people, guide them and support them. Only the Afghanistan war gradually wore him down and sucked the life out of him, as it did so many others. He was given an honorable medical discharge, against his wishes. His whole life-dream has been shattered. He’s fractured internally by the PTSD, and you will meet him two years later as his story unfolds. He’s degraded to being like so many other vets we see on the streets of every city in the USA: shamed, hopeless, depressed and he cannot hold a job. In this book, I took “the gloves off,” as we say, and delved into the hero’s state of mind, his distorted emotions, his thinking he was a failure in every possible way.

EXCERPT from the opening to Chapter 1 of Wind River Rancher

Reese Lockhart’s stomach was tight with hunger as he stood at the outskirts of a small Wyoming town called Wind River. The sign indicated a population of two thousand. He’d gone a month without decent food. Six inches of snow stood on the sides of the road where he’d walked the last ten miles on 89A north. It headed toward Jackson Hole, where he was hoping to find work.

The town, for a Monday afternoon, was pretty slow. A couple of pickup trucks came and went, a few people walked along the sidewalks on either side of the highway that ran through the center of town. He halted outside Becker’s Hay and Feed Store, an aged redbrick building standing two stories high. The red tin roof was steep and sunlight reflected off it, making Reese squint. Bright lights now hurt his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, feeling the fear of rejection once again, he pushed open the door to the store. Would he get yelled at by the owner? Told to get out? It was early May and snow had fallen the night before. The sleepy town of Wind River still had slush on its streets midday.

The place was quiet, smelled of leather, and he saw a man in his sixties, tall, lean, and with silver hair, behind the counter. He was sitting on a wooden stool that
was probably the same age as he was, an ancient-looking calculator in his work-worn hands as he methodically punched the buttons.

Girding himself, ignoring the fact he hadn’t eaten in two days, Reese’s gaze automatically swung around the huge establishment. A hay and feed store was something he was familiar with. Maybe the owner wanted some part-time help. He needed to make enough money to buy a decent meal.

Shoving away the shame he felt over his situation, he saw the man lift his head, wire-rim spectacles halfway down his large nose, his blue eyes squinting at Reese as he approached the long wooden counter.

“Howdy, stranger. Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Maybe,” Reese said. “I’m looking for work. I saw you have several big barns out back, and a granary. Do you have any openings?” Automatically, Reese tensed. He knew he looked rough with a month’s worth of beard on his face, and his clothes were dirty and shabby. At one time, he’d been a Marine Corps captain commanding a company of 120 Marines. And he’d been damn good at it until—

“I’m Charlie Becker, the owner,” the man said, shifting and thrusting his hand across the desk toward him. “Welcome to Wind River. Who might you be?”

“Reese Lockhart,” he said, and he gripped the man’s strong hand. He liked Charlie’s large, watery eyes because he saw kindness in them. Reese was very good at assessing people. He’d kept his Marines safe and helped them through their professional and personal ups and downs over the years he commanded Mike Company in Afghanistan. Charlie was close to six feet tall, lean like a rail, and wore a white cowboy shirt and blue jeans. Reese sensed this older gentleman wouldn’t throw him out of here with a curse— or even worse, call law enforcement and accuse him of trespassing.

The last place where he’d tried to find some work, they’d called him a druggie and told him to get the hell out; he smelled. While walking the last ten miles to Wind River, Reese had stopped when he discovered a stream on the flat, snow-covered land, and tried to clean up the best he could. The temperature was near freezing as he’d gone into the bushes, away from the busy highway, and stripped to his waist. He’d taken handfuls of snow and scrubbed his body, shivering, but hell, that was a small price to pay to try to not smell so bad. He hadn’t had a real shower in a month, either.

“You a vet, by any chance?” Charlie asked, his eyes narrowing speculatively upon Reese.

“Yes, sir. Marine Corps.” He said it with pride.

LINKS:
Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Wind-River-Rancher-Lindsay-McKenna/dp/1420141767/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478800984&sr=8-1&keywords=Wind+River+Rancher

Kobo.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-river-rancher

BN.com
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-river-rancher-lindsay-mckenna/1123624029?ean=9781420141764

Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1099652774?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Wind+River+Rancher+by+Lindsay+McKenna

*~*~*

Lindsay McKenna
www.lindsaymckenna.com

For those folks who received this book yesterday, I hope you enjoy it! I’ll admit I loved writing it. Merry and Daniel were made for each other. Both were lonely and daring, although Merry hadn’t quite reconciled with that part of her nature until she was challenged. Guess it took the right man…

For those of you who haven’t seen the story yet, you’re welcome to drool over the cover. Not sure what he’s looking at—her boobs, I think. But that’s okay, too, right? 🙂 Enjoy the excerpt!

Newly widowed Merry Winslow treks west to claim an unexpected inheritance. Upon arriving, she discovers she inherited a brothel! Rather than being dismayed, Merry’s intrigued, thinking it the perfect way to shed the shackles of propriety that have subdued her wild and impulsive nature. Only problem is, she needs to learn to manage her new business.

Nathan Boone is amused by Merry’s determination and knows the perfect way to begin her instruction. When he opens the peephole for Merry to peer inside as one of the brothel’s “soiled doves” pleasures a customer, he reveals the passion hidden beneath Merry’s “widow’s weeds”.

Get your copy here!

Excerpt from Making a Madam…

A callous-roughened finger lifted her chin. “Do you want me to stop, Merry? I don’t consider this part of our bargain.”

She opened her mouth to tell him it was all happening too fast, that she needed time to think, but her gaze locked with his.

Candlelight didn’t reach the shadowy hollows of his deep-set eyes, lending him a sinister appearance. Her heart skittered for a moment then her glance lowered to his mouth.

She’d barely had a taste of him, yet his lips were still blurred from their kiss, his bottom lip slightly swollen and oh-so tempting to explore.

The undisciplined part of her, the one she’d finally unleashed only this morning, made her rise on her toes and press her mouth to his to savor the taste and texture of him. Whiskey mixed with salt, firm but soft lips…

His mouth opened immediately, and his tongue thrust between her lips, sliding over her tongue, reaching deep to stroke and glide, filling Merry’s head with visions of Nathan gliding over the tops of her breasts and suckling her nipples, just as Johnny had done to Daisy.

Nathan’s hands slid up and down her back, his grip strengthening as he reached lower and cupped her bottom again, pressing her closer to the thick ridge crowding inside his pants.

Remembering the sight of Johnny’s cock and the way Daisy had pleased him, Merry’s doubts burned away, and she felt suddenly eager to see what she’d taken so deep inside her own body.

She tore her mouth from his. “I’d like to see you,” she said, in a thick voice she barely recognized as her own.

“Shall I undress for you?” he asked, gliding moist lips along her cheek.

“Please. Quickly.”

His hands dropped away from her, and he stepped back.

Golden light from the oil lamp on her desk, and the one candle beside her bed, flickered over him as he stripped. His jacket landed beside his feet. His suspenders slid from his broad shoulders. When his crisp white shirt lay crumpled beside him, she lifted her gaze to follow the curve of the tops of his powerful shoulders and the thick, ropey muscles of his chest and abdomen. A light dusting of dark hair stretched between his flat nipples and arrowed down toward his trousers.

She realized with a start he hadn’t worn anything beneath his shirt, no long-handled underwear, and she wondered if he’d bothered with any undergarments below.

Feeling breathless as his hands hovered over the button at the top of his pants, she flattened a hand against her chest, which only made her more aware of the shallow breaths lifting her chest and the heavy thud of her heartbeat. “Why did you stop?” she blurted out.

“Sorry,” he said, flicking open the button. “I was too busy watching you, and wondering if I needed to get you out of that corset.”

“I am a little winded, but please,” she said, waiving toward his lower body, “continue.”

Disappointingly, he started this time with his boots, toeing them off one at a time then drawing off his woolen socks. As his hands returned to the waist of his trousers, her breath caught and held.

He tugged down his trousers, wincing when they snagged. He reached inside and cupped his erection then worked his clothing the rest of the way down his hips. When he straightened, she understood the deep sigh he let out.

His cock strained upward, thick and straight against his belly. Much larger than Johnny’s—and even more impressive than the glass cock Daisy had stroked inside herself.

Merry stared for a long moment, noting the ruddy color of his shaft, the purplish shade of the rounded head. It pulsed once, up and down, a little telltale jerk that she knew he couldn’t control since he stood so stiffly, waiting for her comment.

“Please stay just like that,” she whispered, reaching for the buttons behind her neck, opening her dress slowly and awkwardly until the front fell forward, exposing the top of her corset and the gentle swell of her bosom. A few more tiny buttons, and she slid down the skirt to pool around her feet. Her petticoats followed, and then she bent to unbutton her boots and slid them off, only realizing as she straightened, that she’d given him a view of her breasts plumping above the restrictive corset.

She flushed, wishing she wasn’t so absurdly shy. He stood with his cock bared, and she still had clothing covering most of her womanly parts.

“Let me unlace you,” he said, his voice sounding tight and husky.

She walked toward him and slowly turned her back. His nimble fingers plucked the laces until the hard boning relaxed, and the corset fell away. At last, she could draw a deep breath. Then wearing only her chemise and drawers, she faced him.

His glance swept her body then met hers. Tension tightened his large, muscled frame. His hands settled on his hips as he waited.

She supposed it was only fair. Merry pushed down the shoulders of her chemise, one at a time, lifting her arms out, but keeping her breasts covered with the fabric. She wished she’d thought to douse the lights before she bared the rest for his gleaming gaze. “Maybe you could turn around…”

A tic pulsed along the side of his jaw, but his features softened, and he stepped out of his trousers and turned.

This view of his body did nothing to ease her embarrassment. His shoulders only seemed wider, narrowing to a trim waist. His buttocks were rounded, firm, and she had the strangest urge to cup them.

“Are you going to change your mind, Merry?” he said, still facing away.

“I’ll admit I’m a little disconcerted, undressing for you like this. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”

“Because your breasts aren’t as large as Daisy’s?”

“Neither are my hips.”

“I’ll like everything I see, I promise. I’m partial to slender women.”

“Have you done this with many women?”

“Enough I’ve learned how to please a woman. Will you let me show you what I’ve learned?”

I’m pleased to share my latest historical, Libbie: Bride of Arizona, that was part of an unprecedented author collaboration of 45 authors writing a mail-order bride story connected to each of the 50 American states!

Will a tomboyish outsider with unusual habits find a home with an Arizona rancher who has strict ideas on what’s appropriate in a wife?

Publisher:  Inked Figments
Release Date:  1/5/16

Alone for the first time, tomboyish Libbie Van Eycken accepts a mail-order proposal and travels across country to find a place to call her own. Arizona rancher Dell Stirling needs a wife but didn’t count on the eccentric creature that brings chaos in her wake.

Purchase Links:
Exclusive to Amazon:  https://amzn.com/B017L14VS2
Free in Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:

“What do you have there?” Libbie stepped forward and angled her head, hoping for a peek at what the women had been looking at when she entered. But, as always, her short height thwarted her from seeing.

Sally glanced between the two other women and then reached behind her sister and stepped forward, laying a newspaper on the block table in the middle of the room. “Dora used to work at a textile mill in Lawrence which is about thirty miles away. Just recently, the place burned down, leaving approximately one hundred women without jobs.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Not that she’d ever held a job, but Libbie knew many women in America worked in offices or factories to support themselves. “What will they do?”

“Well, Sally is my only family, and I’ve come to Boston to find a new job. I stayed in Lawrence for a week, hoping to find similar work but there’s naught to be had.” Dora glanced at the door to the main hallway and stepped closer. “Miss, please don’t tell your aunt I’m here. At least, not until I find work and can offer to pay for my room and board.”

“Yes, Libbie, please keep our secret.” Sally wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Although, now I’m thinking Dora should arrange for a husband through the gazette’s ads.”

Surprise jerked Libbie back a step. “A husband in a newspaper?” Then curiosity forced her gaze to the page.

“See? Grooms’ Gazette.” Sally pointed to the masthead then moved lower. “Elizabeth Miller works as a matchmaker in a nearby city. She prints and distributes this newspaper as a way to share information about men in other states and the frontier who are hankering for wives.”

A wave of gratefulness for her family, as far-flung as they were now, flashed through Libbie. Granted the trans-ocean travel by ship was long and boring, but she knew they’d be waiting with open arms at the end of her journey when her time at the Academy was completed. She scanned a few of the letters and then leaned both elbows on the counter, intrigued by the variety of situations the men were in. Logger, rancher, shopkeeper, doctor, farmer, miner, lawyer, professor, saddler, dentist, saloon owner—almost every occupation under the sun. Most sounded honest and upstanding, and also very lonely. Some were too specific in their requirements, which told her those men would not possess easygoing personalities. She straightened and waved a hand toward the newspaper. “Dora, are you considering this?”

“Several of my co-workers were writing letters to arrange matches when I left Lawrence. My friend, Grace Dickinson, wrote to a gentleman who’s a mason way out in Montana.” The young woman wrung her hands and shook her head. “I just don’t know if I can do this. Although having a home of one’s own sounds wonderful.” She turned toward Sally and her lower lip quivered. “But to move too far away worries me.”

“Tell her, Libbie, that coming from another country ʼtisn’t so bad.” Mary crossed her arms at her trim waist. “Sure, I miss the green pastures of County Cork and watching the ships in the harbor. But I like being warm and having a roof over me head even more.”

The cook spoke the truth. Although Libbie barely remembered her father’s older sister from the family’s visit when she was seven or eight, she was grateful to be staying with her aunt and cousins. After a month in Boston, Libbie still hadn’t adjusted to the large number of people living so close together, or the noise from peddlers in the street, horse-drawn cabs and trolleys, tolling church bells, and wailing fire sirens. “Every place I’ve lived has good and bad aspects. Only you can decide what town or situation is best for you, Dora. Maybe you should look for the locations of men living the closest to Boston.”

A smile creased Dora’s chubby cheeks. “I like that idea. Thank you.”

“Excuse me, miss, but yer aunt hasn’t yet rung for her tea.” Mary frowned and glanced at the pendulum clock on the wall. “Could ye step into the parlor and check on her?”

“Yes, Mary, I will do that on the way to my bedroom. I have been sent home with Mrs. Templeton’s specific instructions to practice my gliding.” She held out her arms straight and took exaggerated sliding steps. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted the women stood with hands covering their mouths, suppressing their laughter, and she gave them a cocky grin.

About the Author

As a young girl, Linda was often found lying on her bed reading about fascinating characters having exciting adventures in places far away and in other time periods. In later years, she read and then started writing romances and achieved her first publication–a confession story. Married with 4 adult children and 2 granddaughters, Linda writes heartwarming contemporary and historical stories with a touch of humor from her home in the southern California mountains.

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