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THE WEDDING CRASHER AND THE COWBOY by Robin Bielman: Release Spotlight
NOW AVAILABLE
Kennedy Martin is shocked when her ex calls days before his wedding, expressing serious second thoughts. Doesn’t he see his fiancée’s actually the glaze to his doughnut? Now she’s got no choice but to crash his wedding and convince the man he’s with the right woman.
Instead, she crashes into the absolute last man she ever wanted to see: Maverick Owens, her old college nemesis. Maverick is still as awful, infuriating, and just The Worst as ever—even if he looks way too sexy in his cowboy hat. And of course he’s convinced she’s actually at the seaside ranch to ruin the wedding.
Now the only way to get some face time with the groom and save this marriage is to participate in all sorts of pre-wedding events…with Maverick. Stuck on a canoe, making small-talk at cocktail hour, and even a hoedown with her worst enemy? This just might be the longest week of her life…
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About Robin Bielman
USA Today bestselling author Robin Bielman lives in Southern California with her awesome family and her very cute dog, Harry. She writes both sweet and sexy contemporary romances with one goal in mind: to leave you with a smile on your face. When not attached to her laptop, she loves to read, go to the beach, and frequent coffee shops with friends. She also dreams of traveling to faraway places and loves to connect with readers. Keep in touch on social! Xoxo
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THE WEDDING CRASHER AND THE COWBOY by Robin Bielman: Release Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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COLD AS ICE by Toni Anderson: Review
Cold As Ice by Toni Anderson
Series: Cold Justice - The Negotiators #5
Published by Toni Anderson Inc
Publication Date: September 23rd 2021
Genres: Romantic Suspense
Pages: 460
Source: Author
Format: eARC
Goodreads
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Disclaimer: I voluntarily reviewed a copy of this book. All opinions stated are solely mine.
“A terrific, twisting romantic thriller that will keep you guessing until the end! Don’t miss this one!” ~#1 NYT Bestselling Author Barbara Freethy.
When Darby O’Roarke wakes up in a strange house with a dead man – with no memory of what happened – she knows who she has to call: FBI Supervisory Special Agent Eban Winters…the man she fell for, and who rejected her, last summer.
A negotiator isn’t supposed to get involved with kidnap victims, and Eban has been trying to avoid the temptation that is Darby O’Roarke ever since they met. One frantic phone call has him racing to Alaska to uncover the truth, but he faces stubborn opposition from the local police, and a growing media frenzy.
Getting Darby released from jail and keeping her safe is his first priority. When another woman is brutally slain, evidence emerges that suggests Darby is being framed, and that the culprit is a vicious serial killer who has eluded the FBI for more than a decade…and, now, the killer has Darby in their sights.
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Review
It’s always a thrill to read any new book by Ms. Anderson because I know all the elements I love in romantic suspense – intrigue, danger and passion – will be on every page. COLD AS ICE does not disappoint and is every bit of a page turner as anything this author has written in the past, with the surprises coming all the way to the last page of the book.
Darby O’Roarke has lived through is a nightmare of epic proportions, but she is determined to take back control of her life and has been mostly successful so far. But someone with nefarious intentions is determined to see that she does not succeed in moving on from the events that changed her life and Darby’s first call is to the one man she cannot stop pining for.
FBI agent Eban Winters has tried for so long to do the right thing when it comes to Darby, but with danger surrounding her, he’s willing to give up the job that fulfils him if it comes to a choice between it and keeping Darby safe.
I loved this story so much and everything about the main characters. Moving on from those big events and looking to find love can be very difficult and requires a lot of support and patience, which is why I loved how Eban gave all that to Darby. He was supportive and also did not see or treat her as a victim. He was there for her every step of the way even as she made the calls on her life but was never willing to compromise on her safety in any way.
The dance between Darby and Eban about their feelings for each other was a very delicate one and I really liked how the author handled it. Any concerns I had about the Darby’s life-changing event were allayed by the thoughtful and compassionate way the author handled that piece of the story.
There is so much that will capture a reader’s attention here and really, the entire series is a must-read.
About Toni Anderson
Toni Anderson writes award-winning, bestselling, FBI Romantic Thrillers. She is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, RITA® finalist, science nerd, professional tourist, dog lover, gardener, mom. Anderson's books have won the Readers' Choice Award, Aspen Gold, National Excellence in Romance Fiction, Book Buyers' Best.
Originally from a small town in Shropshire, England, Toni studied Marine Biology at University of Liverpool (B.Sc.) and University of St. Andrews (Ph.D.) with the intention she'd never be far from the ocean. Well, that plan backfired and she ended up in the Canadian prairies with her biology professor husband, two kids, a rescue dog, and a laid-back leopard gecko.
Toni started writing while pregnant with her first child and never stopped. Her greatest achievements are mastering the Tokyo subway, climbing Ben Lomond, snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef, and surviving fifteen Winnipeg winters (fingers crossed). She loves to travel for research purposes and was lucky enough to visit the Strategic Information and Operations Center inside FBI Headquarters in Washington, D.C. in 2016. She also got to shove another (police) car off the road during pursuit training at the Writer’s Police Academy. Basically she has way too much fun!
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COLD AS ICE by Toni Anderson: Review was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS by Jennifer Snow: Excerpt & Spotlight
AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 28, 2021
For Jessica Connolly, there is no better place than her coastal hometown of Blue Moon Bay. She has a wonderful family, supportive best friends, and a successful bakery on Main Street. Unfortunately, every time she designs one of her ex-boyfriends’ wedding cakes, she’s reminded just how unlucky she is with love…and that she’s a good luck charm for men to find their happily ever after. With someone else. The minute they break up. So she’s decided to be done with love.
Dr. Mitch Jameson is more comfortable traveling the world with Doctors Without Borders than staying in one place. He just needs to survive the holidays in his small hometown before he can leave again. The beautiful, intriguing bakery owner with an aversion to dating might be just who he needs to occupy his restless heart.
From sipping hot chocolates at the local festival of lights to early morning dessert deliveries, Jessica and Mitch rediscover the spirit of the holidays. But when the 25 days of Christmas are over, will their romance be over, too?
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Excerpt
He shot a quick glance toward her in the passenger seat of his rental. She’d licked her dark mauve colored lipstick from her lips during dinner and she hadn’t reapplied it. Did that mean she’d be open to a good night kiss? He’d read in a Cosmo magazine left behind on a flight once that the lack of reapplying lipstick was a sign…
Jeez, now he was getting his relationship advice from a magazine he had no business reading.
She looked at him, and he quickly turned his attention back to the road. “I’m just the next left,” she said, as he came to a stop sign. The speed limit in the neighborhood was thirty, but he couldn’t be going faster than ten. He was reluctant to see the night end, but inviting her back to the Inn for a drink had seemed too sleazy…but would she invite him into her place?
It had been far too long since he’d been on a real first date, and it was quickly becoming evident that he had no idea what the dating etiquette was these days in the era of apps and hookups. She’d been quiet on the drive back to her place, so it was hard to read her.
He turned onto her street and cleared his throat. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate tonight’s date?”
She grinned as she turned in the seat to face him. “Like if I was leaving a Yelp review?”
“Yes. Yelp review me.” He could take it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t dock him for his use of the word “corny” or his unimaginative date suggestion.
She looked as though she were thinking for a long moment. “Um…I’d say it was a solid eight.”
“Eight.” He nodded slowly. Not bad. Not a ten. “What could have I done for a better score?”
Jessica’s cheeks flushed slightly as she stared at their joined hands between the seats. “I docked you two points because you are a limited-time offer.”
He swallowed hard. So, she was looking for something a little more serious in a guy. Normally that response would have him doing the logical, responsible thing—breaking it off before the woman got too invested or got her feelings hurt. So far, he’d been honest and clear in his intentions. Saying goodnight and thanking her for a fun evening was the way to play this.
But he really wanted to see her again. More than he’d wanted a second date with a woman in a long time. He didn’t want to see her get hurt, of course, but maybe they could take things casually and see what happened.
All he knew was he’d been dreading this time in his hometown. Dreading the downtime, the holidays with his family, being in one place for too long…but Jessica was already helping him cope.
About Jennifer Snow
Jennifer Snow is a USA Today Bestselling Author writing contemporary romance fiction for Grand Central Publishing, Entangled and Harlequin. Her stories range in heat level from sweet to sexy and are set everywhere from big cities to small towns. Her books are light and humorous, but also full of heart, featuring families and communities readers love to visit over and over again.
Originally from Newfoundland, Canada, she now resides in Spain with her husband, son and three mischievous cats.
She currently publishes psychological thrillers under her pen name J.M. Winchester and writes screenplays and TV shows in her 'spare' time. Her holiday rom-com, Mistletoe and Molly airs Christmas 2021!
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A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS by Jennifer Snow: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS by Jennifer Snow: Excerpt & Spotlight
AVAILABLE SEPTEMBER 28, 2021
For Jessica Connolly, there is no better place than her coastal hometown of Blue Moon Bay. She has a wonderful family, supportive best friends, and a successful bakery on Main Street. Unfortunately, every time she designs one of her ex-boyfriends’ wedding cakes, she’s reminded just how unlucky she is with love…and that she’s a good luck charm for men to find their happily ever after. With someone else. The minute they break up. So she’s decided to be done with love.
Dr. Mitch Jameson is more comfortable traveling the world with Doctors Without Borders than staying in one place. He just needs to survive the holidays in his small hometown before he can leave again. The beautiful, intriguing bakery owner with an aversion to dating might be just who he needs to occupy his restless heart.
From sipping hot chocolates at the local festival of lights to early morning dessert deliveries, Jessica and Mitch rediscover the spirit of the holidays. But when the 25 days of Christmas are over, will their romance be over, too?
Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop | IndieBound
Add to Goodreads
Excerpt
He shot a quick glance toward her in the passenger seat of his rental. She’d licked her dark mauve colored lipstick from her lips during dinner and she hadn’t reapplied it. Did that mean she’d be open to a good night kiss? He’d read in a Cosmo magazine left behind on a flight once that the lack of reapplying lipstick was a sign…
Jeez, now he was getting his relationship advice from a magazine he had no business reading.
She looked at him, and he quickly turned his attention back to the road. “I’m just the next left,” she said, as he came to a stop sign. The speed limit in the neighborhood was thirty, but he couldn’t be going faster than ten. He was reluctant to see the night end, but inviting her back to the Inn for a drink had seemed too sleazy…but would she invite him into her place?
It had been far too long since he’d been on a real first date, and it was quickly becoming evident that he had no idea what the dating etiquette was these days in the era of apps and hookups. She’d been quiet on the drive back to her place, so it was hard to read her.
He turned onto her street and cleared his throat. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate tonight’s date?”
She grinned as she turned in the seat to face him. “Like if I was leaving a Yelp review?”
“Yes. Yelp review me.” He could take it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t dock him for his use of the word “corny” or his unimaginative date suggestion.
She looked as though she were thinking for a long moment. “Um…I’d say it was a solid eight.”
“Eight.” He nodded slowly. Not bad. Not a ten. “What could have I done for a better score?”
Jessica’s cheeks flushed slightly as she stared at their joined hands between the seats. “I docked you two points because you are a limited-time offer.”
He swallowed hard. So, she was looking for something a little more serious in a guy. Normally that response would have him doing the logical, responsible thing—breaking it off before the woman got too invested or got her feelings hurt. So far, he’d been honest and clear in his intentions. Saying goodnight and thanking her for a fun evening was the way to play this.
But he really wanted to see her again. More than he’d wanted a second date with a woman in a long time. He didn’t want to see her get hurt, of course, but maybe they could take things casually and see what happened.
All he knew was he’d been dreading this time in his hometown. Dreading the downtime, the holidays with his family, being in one place for too long…but Jessica was already helping him cope.
A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS by Jennifer Snow: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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THE GIRL WITH STARS IN HER EYES by Xio Axelrod: EXcerpt & Spotlight
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
Her name’s Antonia “Toni” Bennette (yeah, she’s heard all the jokes before) and she’s not a rock star. Neither are the Lillys—not yet. But the difference between being famous and being almost famous can be a single wrong note…or the start of something that’ll change your life forever.
Growing up in dive bars up and down the East Coast, Toni Bennette’s guitar was her only companion…until she met Sebastian Quick. Seb was a little older, a lot wiser, and before long he was Toni’s way out, promising they’d escape their stifling small town together. Then Seb turned eighteen and split without looking back.
Now, Toni’s all grown up and making a name for herself in Philadelphia’s indie scene. When a friend suggests she try out for a hot new up-and-coming band, Toni decides to take a chance. Strong, feminist, and fierce as fire, Toni B. and the Lillys are the perfect match…except Seb’s now moonlighting as their manager. Whatever. Toni can handle it. No problem. Or it wouldn’t be if Seb didn’t still hold a piece of her heart…not to mention the key to her future.
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Excerpt
The smile on Toni’s face faltered as Seb approached, eyes wide with disbelief. She banged the sharp edge of her guitar case into Jordan’s leg, and he made a pained sound.
Toni winced. “Oh God! I’m so sorry.”
Jordan laughed it off. “It’s okay. Seb has that effect on people.”
Her hair had fallen into her eyes, hiding her from him. It wouldn’t do. Seb itched to reach over and brush it back. After so many years apart, he needed to see her, to look into her eyes. He needed to apologize, though no apology would ever be enough for what he’d done.
As if steeling herself, Toni took a deep breath and raised her head to meet his gaze.
Seb watched as confusion morphed into suspicion before giving way to unmistakable anger, which coalesced white-hot as her gaze narrowed.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Jordan cleared his throat. “Toni Bennette, this is Sebastian Quick,” he said. “Seb, Toni the phenom.”
Lilly nodded to Seb in greeting and pulled Tiff over to the piano, where a pile of headshots lay spread out on its ebony top.
Seb’s heart hammered in his chest. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The connection between his brain and his vocal cords had been severed, which was just as well. He had no idea
what to say.
“Nice to meet you.” A flush spread across her cheeks, but the ice in her voice sent a chill down Seb’s spine and made his jaw snap shut. Nice to meet you?
Despite the greeting, Toni made no move to shake his hand, clutching her phone in one and her guitar in the other. Her eyes were steely and there was a clear statement in them: I don’t know
you. Or, maybe, I don’t want to.
Seb managed to nod. He wasn’t sure how to play this but thought maybe it was best to follow her lead. He owed her that.
Jordan arched an eyebrow as if to say What the fuck is wrong with you?
From his left, Seb could feel Candi’s stare burning into the side of his face. He needed to get his shit together.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he finally said. And kudos to him for not screwing that up. “Nice stuff.”
“Nice stuff,” Candi repeated, mocking his stiff tone. She stuck her hand out to Toni. “You know your shit, missy.”
Toni held Seb’s gaze for a beat before she turned to her, giving her a warm smile as she shook her hand.
“Thanks so much. You’re Candi, right?”
“The one and only,” Candi replied pointedly before dropping her hand and walking over to Lilly.
Again, Toni’s smile faltered.
“Okay,” Jordan said loudly, his eyes still on Seb. He turned to Toni. “We’ll definitely be in touch.”
“That’s great, thanks,” Toni replied, her eyes kind for Seb’s best friend. “I’ll keep my phone charged.”
Jordan gave Seb one last look, sent Toni a little salute, and jogged over to the others.
Seb found Toni studying him again, her expression indecipherable.
Finally, she rolled her eyes with a huff and moved toward the door.
Before he could think better of it, Seb followed. Grabbing the door before it could close behind her, he trailed Toni into the hall.
She was moving fast, giving him a healthy dose of déjà vu.
“Wait up!” He caught up to her in front of the bank of elevators. Seb watched her shoulders rise and fall on heavy breaths.
Despite her distress, Toni’s voice came out even. Measured. Glacial. “You’re the last person I expected to see. Again.”
“Yeah, well…” Seb rubbed the back of his neck.
Slowly, Toni turned to face him, and they stared at each other for a long moment.
Seb couldn’t read her at all. “You sounded good in there. Great, actually.” His words were so fucking inadequate.
“Thanks.”
Now that she was in front of him, Seb floundered. He needed to organize his thoughts. Figure out a way to approach her that didn’t cause her to shoot daggers out of her eyes.
“I, uh… How—?”
The elevator doors opened, interrupting whatever Seb thought he might say.
Lifting her eyes to his, Toni walked slowly backward until she was inside.
“See you around,” she said, dropping her gaze. “Maybe.”
***
Excerpted from The Girl with Stars in Her Eyes by Xio Axelrod. © 2021 by Xio Axelrod. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
About Xio Axelrod
Xio Axelrod is an award-winning, USA Today best-selling author of contemporary romance. In 2017, she founded the Philadelphia RWA chapter. Xio grew up in the music industry and began recording at a young age. When she isn't writing stories, she can be found in the studio, writing songs, or performing on international stages (under a different, not-so-secret name). She lives in Philadelphia with one full-time husband and several part-time cats.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Instagram
THE GIRL WITH STARS IN HER EYES by Xio Axelrod: EXcerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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YOU’VE GOT PLAID by Eliza Knight: Excerpt & Spotlight
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
This Highlander is determined to help his enemy’s daughter get safely home, even if it means his own defeat…
Brogan Grant, a Jacobite soldier and bastard son of the Chief, fought savagely on the battlefield and barely escaped capture. On the run for his life, Brogan comes across what he thinks is a spy—a very bonny lass disguised as a lad, who happens to be the daughter of his clan’s enemy. He admires her bravery, but he knows what can happen to a woman alone in a war-ravaged land.
Lady Fiona MacBean is determined to do her part to ensure there is a Scottish king. Disguised as a healer, she delivers coded messages to rebels throughout the Highlands. There’s only one thing impeding her mission—a striking Highlander who’s determined to send her home.
Unfortunately, Fiona will not be deterred, no matter what the sexy Scot says. Left with little choice, Brogan agrees to join her mission if she agrees to return home when it’s over. Now the two must work together and risk everything to save the life of Bonnie Prince Charlie himself. If only their hearts weren’t at risk as well…
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Excerpt
MacBean Lands
Highlands, Scotland
Summer 1725
“What are ye doing?”
Fiona MacBean, second of four children born to Chief MacBean and his stronghearted bride, turned around to see her three siblings standing obstinately in a line, hands on hips, feet tapping.
Her elder brother had a knowing smirk on his face, as though he’d caught her red-handed. Her younger brother, Ian, was emulating Gus to a T, and sweet Leanna, the youngest of the brood, waggled her brows at Fiona in a way that meant she had a secret and was having a hard time keeping it in.
Fiona pulled her hands away from the gap in the tree and tried to clear her expression of anything other than annoyance.
“I’m just looking for eggs in a quail’s nest.”
“Nay, ye were no’. Just tell us what ye found.” Gus narrowed his eyes, the same way their father often did.
“I told ye, the squirrel ran up the tree. He was running in a circle just here.” Fiona zigzagged in front of the tree, and then hurried behind it before coming around the front and pretending to scurry up the bark.
“We know what ye do when ye come out to the woods,” Ian said, looking up at Gus for approval.
“Aye, we know,” Leanna added, not wanting to be left out.
Fiona crossed her arms and scowled. “The lot of ye are a bunch of storytellers.”
“Och, who’s telling stories now?” Gus said, taking a step forward.
Fiona clenched her hands, forgetting she held the slip of paper that had been folded neatly and shoved into the nook in the tree.
“Who’s it from?” Ian asked.
“Read it to us,” Leanna added.
“Hand it over. If ye dinna, we’ll only be forced to take it from ye.” Gus held out his hand.
At twelve years old herself, Fiona didn’t often take orders from her brother, born just shy of eleven months before her. But if he were threatening to tackle her to the ground, that was something entirely different. Gus was bigger than her, having just shot up another four inches in the past summer. But she was faster…
Fiona took off at a run.
As a little girl, she’d spent a great deal of time running through the forest, her feet slipping on leaves, boots catching on roots. She’d hidden in the hollows of trees, leapt over fallen oaks, slid down embankments. There was no nook or cranny in the forest she’d not claimed as her own. And as much as her siblings tried to find her in every single one, they were not always successful.
Her father didn’t like her traipsing off alone in the forest, especially not with the uprising. The damned loyalists, who she assumed were the English when he said it, had been a nuisance to all their hides for as long as she could remember.
Fiona had been born just a couple of years before the first Jacobite rising in 1715, and in fact, on her second birthday, her da had been away meeting with a war council along with other prominent Scots and titled men from England. Had fought beside old King James, and proudly showed his battle scars whenever he was a bit too deep in his cups. He’d been a sprite man of about twenty-five back then. There’d been a few more battles since, but none won, as yet. That didn’t mean they were going to give up.
Every year, Fiona went with her father to a secret meeting of the lairds and earls and other warriors to discuss their latest plans. They thought she was off gallivanting with her friends and siblings, not paying attention. Which she mostly was, but she was also very good at spying, and so the children often had her listen in on the talks, then bring back the news of what she’d learned.
There was one particular lad who seemed keen on her skills. His name was Aeneas but he asked her to call him Aes, and he had a smile that could melt the heart of even a lass who spent more time than not irritated with lads, namely her brothers.
He’d caught her one of the days listening in on an important conversation.
She didn’t see him in the hall with any of the other children, nor did she see him accompany any of the lairds. Aes was just as much a mystery to her as anyone else.
When she talked with her friends Jenny and Annie about him, they couldn’t figure out who Aes was, either, so they spent their days and evenings searching out the boy with the soot-colored hair and a mischievous grin. But he only seemed to show up when Fiona least expected it, and when her friends weren’t around, to prove he wasn’t a ghost.
Every year she saw Aes, and their fondness for each other grew. Just this past spring, he’d told her he didn’t want to wait until next year to see her again. Fiona suggested he write to her instead, to which he wrinkled his nose. If he was writing her letters, her father would want to know who he was, and he’d want to read them.
Fiona had asked what was wrong with her da knowing who Aes was, but he said it was best no one knew, so they’d sketched a map of the wood surrounding her family’s small lands, and she’d drawn an X on the spot where there was a tree with a secret nook that she often hid pretty rocks in. If Aes could find it and leave her letters there, their friendship was meant to be.
She’d been checking that tree for months, and today was the first time she’d found anything—a piece of folded paper, and she’d be damned if she was going to let one of her sticky-fingered siblings get their hands on it.
***
Excerpted from You’ve Got Plaid by Eliza Knight. © 2021 by Eliza Knight. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
YOU’VE GOT PLAID by Eliza Knight: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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WRECKLESS by Katie Golding: Excerpt & Spotlight
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
She is my rival. My Tigrotta. My dearest enemy…and the greatest love of my life. But this, I can never let her know.
I’ve spent years as a professional motorcycle racer vying to prove myself to the world, even as I fought to save my family from the clutches of a man who would like nothing more than to see me fail. He’s not the only one. My Lorina—America’s Sweetheart Lorelai Hargrove—would also like me to eat her dust.
But this is the game we play. She pretends she hates me, and I wind her up as I pretend she’s not all I think about. And yet after a deadly wreck, her confidence is so shaken, my Lorina needs me to stop being her favorite enemy and remind her there is a tiger within who will do anything to win. That I want to spend the rest of my life chasing her to that finish line again and again and again.
If only the battle to make it to the podium didn’t cost us everything our hearts desire.
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Excerpt
“More! Harder!”
Massimo pants out a raspy groan that brings me endless satisfaction, his sharply defined arm muscles glistening with sweat. My back arches at the next hit, my hips bowing to pure power, and I cry out with all the air in my lungs, harnessing my stamina and endurance and focusing only on the sweet release of victory.
“More!”
“Basta! Enough, Lorina!”
Frank chuckles from where he’s standing guard over us in my home gym, placing another sandbag on each of our lower backs—the fifth since we’ve started doing weighted planks. Massimo’s roar on the gym floor next to me grows louder, fire burning through my abs and singeing its way through my arms and legs.
“Come on, Peanut!” my dad cheers me on. “You almost got him. He’s shaking! He’s about to drop!”
“Get those hips up, Lori,” Frank counters. “Good job, Massimo. Nice form.”
I grit my teeth through the growl tearing its way up my throat, glancing at Massimo next to me. His hands are fisted so tight, his knuckles are white, the bump of his bicep and triceps and deltoids trembling above his elbows. The scythe on his ribs bleeds a fresh drop of sweat as he strains to keep his hips up from the floor, a stack of sandbags covering the Madonna on his back.
I look away from temptation incarnate, focusing on the row of my promo posters hung on the gym wall. Massive images of me in all my different leathers over the years, flags and banners strung from the ceiling. I duck my head under another groan, determined to remember I’m home to heal and get better.
Me first. Career first. Just like Mama taught me.
Even if she no longer agrees.
“More!” I shout.
Massimo barks out something in Italian as my father puts another bag on his back, looking a little too happy about the painful noise Massimo is making. My mother, however, totally tried to set him up to stay in my room, which he super awkwardly had to decline because no, we’re not sleeping together.
Yet.
The weighted bag I called for hits my back, my core screaming as my hips sink, and I am an idiot for pushing us this far. But he’s been acting like a child all day: exercise after exercise, circuit after circuit, he won’t stop daring me into seeing who is stronger. And even though I’ve kicked his ass the whole way through, he still won’t give up.
“More,” Massimo growls, sneering at me while Frank places another bag on my spine.
A strained yell pours from my lungs. “Dick!”
“Lorelai,” my father rumbles, placing another bag on Massimo’s back.
“No more,” Frank announces. “Y’all are gonna end up hurting each other before—”
Massimo collapses almost the moment I do, but he gave out first. Sucker.
“Good job, Lori,” Frank says, already sweeping the bags off my back. A pocket of air rushes into my lungs, and holy hell, those were heavy. I am so going to regret this tomorrow. “Way to tough it out.”
“That was ridiculous,” Massimo pants out, rolling over to catch his breath. My father extends his hand, helping him to his feet.
“You’re just saying that ’cause you lost.” I push myself to standing, sweat trickling down my back and flooding the bottom of my sports bra and the waist of my leggings. I take a towel from Frank, wiping off my face and the back of my neck. I finish in time to see Massimo squirting a stream of water into his mouth, his whole upper body swelling and sinking with every breath, and it only exaggerates how freaking cut his hips are.
God, I’m totally going to end up sleeping with him. If I don’t, it’ll be a miracle.
“I did not lose.” He shakes out his hair before running his hand through it. “I made the decision that it was not worth it to keep going. I put me first.”
I scoff, taking a drink from my own water bottle. “Says the loser.”
My dad chuckles from where he’s finished helping Frank clean up the sandbags, bumping his shoulder. “Is it weird that I want to put them in a boxing ring and let them go at each other?”
Frank stares down my father. “Yes.” Then he looks to me and Massimo, clapping his hands in the signal for more torture to come. “Okay, tough guys. Since you’re still more concerned with outdoing each other than focusing on your workouts, time for jump ropes.”
“Ugh,” Massimo complains, toweling off his chest. “I am not the one distracted. Lorina can hop. She is the one who cannot—”
“Tell you what,” Frank interrupts in his I-am-so-over-this-shit voice he uses on Mason. I take another sip of water, waiting for the smackdown. “Considering I am under specific instructions from Vinicio to run your ass into the ground and keep you focused on Brno while you’re here? Five miles, now, or it becomes ten.”
Massimo glares at my manager, then points at me. “See what you have done?”
I shrug innocently with a grin so big, my face feels cracked in half. “Nope.”
***
Excerpted from Wreckless by Katie Golding. © 2021 by Katie Golding. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
About Katie Golding
Katie Golding writes high-octane romance about complicated people always searching for the next thrill ride. She lives in Austin, Texas with her beloved husband and son.
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WRECKLESS by Katie Golding: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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WRECKLESS by Katie Golding: Excerpt & Spotlight
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She is my rival. My Tigrotta. My dearest enemy…and the greatest love of my life. But this, I can never let her know.
I’ve spent years as a professional motorcycle racer vying to prove myself to the world, even as I fought to save my family from the clutches of a man who would like nothing more than to see me fail. He’s not the only one. My Lorina—America’s Sweetheart Lorelai Hargrove—would also like me to eat her dust.
But this is the game we play. She pretends she hates me, and I wind her up as I pretend she’s not all I think about. And yet after a deadly wreck, her confidence is so shaken, my Lorina needs me to stop being her favorite enemy and remind her there is a tiger within who will do anything to win. That I want to spend the rest of my life chasing her to that finish line again and again and again.
If only the battle to make it to the podium didn’t cost us everything our hearts desire.
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“More! Harder!”
Massimo pants out a raspy groan that brings me endless satisfaction, his sharply defined arm muscles glistening with sweat. My back arches at the next hit, my hips bowing to pure power, and I cry out with all the air in my lungs, harnessing my stamina and endurance and focusing only on the sweet release of victory.
“More!”
“Basta! Enough, Lorina!”
Frank chuckles from where he’s standing guard over us in my home gym, placing another sandbag on each of our lower backs—the fifth since we’ve started doing weighted planks. Massimo’s roar on the gym floor next to me grows louder, fire burning through my abs and singeing its way through my arms and legs.
“Come on, Peanut!” my dad cheers me on. “You almost got him. He’s shaking! He’s about to drop!”
“Get those hips up, Lori,” Frank counters. “Good job, Massimo. Nice form.”
I grit my teeth through the growl tearing its way up my throat, glancing at Massimo next to me. His hands are fisted so tight, his knuckles are white, the bump of his bicep and triceps and deltoids trembling above his elbows. The scythe on his ribs bleeds a fresh drop of sweat as he strains to keep his hips up from the floor, a stack of sandbags covering the Madonna on his back.
I look away from temptation incarnate, focusing on the row of my promo posters hung on the gym wall. Massive images of me in all my different leathers over the years, flags and banners strung from the ceiling. I duck my head under another groan, determined to remember I’m home to heal and get better.
Me first. Career first. Just like Mama taught me.
Even if she no longer agrees.
“More!” I shout.
Massimo barks out something in Italian as my father puts another bag on his back, looking a little too happy about the painful noise Massimo is making. My mother, however, totally tried to set him up to stay in my room, which he super awkwardly had to decline because no, we’re not sleeping together.
Yet.
The weighted bag I called for hits my back, my core screaming as my hips sink, and I am an idiot for pushing us this far. But he’s been acting like a child all day: exercise after exercise, circuit after circuit, he won’t stop daring me into seeing who is stronger. And even though I’ve kicked his ass the whole way through, he still won’t give up.
“More,” Massimo growls, sneering at me while Frank places another bag on my spine.
A strained yell pours from my lungs. “Dick!”
“Lorelai,” my father rumbles, placing another bag on Massimo’s back.
“No more,” Frank announces. “Y’all are gonna end up hurting each other before—”
Massimo collapses almost the moment I do, but he gave out first. Sucker.
“Good job, Lori,” Frank says, already sweeping the bags off my back. A pocket of air rushes into my lungs, and holy hell, those were heavy. I am so going to regret this tomorrow. “Way to tough it out.”
“That was ridiculous,” Massimo pants out, rolling over to catch his breath. My father extends his hand, helping him to his feet.
“You’re just saying that ’cause you lost.” I push myself to standing, sweat trickling down my back and flooding the bottom of my sports bra and the waist of my leggings. I take a towel from Frank, wiping off my face and the back of my neck. I finish in time to see Massimo squirting a stream of water into his mouth, his whole upper body swelling and sinking with every breath, and it only exaggerates how freaking cut his hips are.
God, I’m totally going to end up sleeping with him. If I don’t, it’ll be a miracle.
“I did not lose.” He shakes out his hair before running his hand through it. “I made the decision that it was not worth it to keep going. I put me first.”
I scoff, taking a drink from my own water bottle. “Says the loser.”
My dad chuckles from where he’s finished helping Frank clean up the sandbags, bumping his shoulder. “Is it weird that I want to put them in a boxing ring and let them go at each other?”
Frank stares down my father. “Yes.” Then he looks to me and Massimo, clapping his hands in the signal for more torture to come. “Okay, tough guys. Since you’re still more concerned with outdoing each other than focusing on your workouts, time for jump ropes.”
“Ugh,” Massimo complains, toweling off his chest. “I am not the one distracted. Lorina can hop. She is the one who cannot—”
“Tell you what,” Frank interrupts in his I-am-so-over-this-shit voice he uses on Mason. I take another sip of water, waiting for the smackdown. “Considering I am under specific instructions from Vinicio to run your ass into the ground and keep you focused on Brno while you’re here? Five miles, now, or it becomes ten.”
Massimo glares at my manager, then points at me. “See what you have done?”
I shrug innocently with a grin so big, my face feels cracked in half. “Nope.”
***
Excerpted from Wreckless by Katie Golding. © 2021 by Katie Golding. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
WRECKLESS by Katie Golding: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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COWBOY FIRE by Kim Redford: Excerpt & Spotlight
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This cowboy is more than just a perfect face…
Violet Ashwood arrives in Wildcat Bluff County with one agenda: convince the hunky Mr. July from the Wildcat Bluff Fire Rescue’s annual benefit calendar to be the face—and body—of her new lonely hearts online dating service. She didn’t count on his firm refusal, nor did she count on seeing him again. Until she discovers he’s her new landlord.
Kemp Lander, aka Mr. July, wants nothing to do with Violet’s schemes to make him a model for her Cowboy Chat Corral, particularly once he finds out she fudged the truth on her rental contract by claiming she was a cowgirl. He’s got enough problems trying to keep trespassers off his ranch and doesn’t need the distraction of his sexy renter.
All Violet and Kemp want is to save their livelihoods and have their lifelong dreams realized. But it’ll take joining forces and discovering they’re better together to finally meet their goals.
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“I need to get Heart-to-Heart Corral up and running.” Violet Ashwood glanced at Kemp Lander where he sat across from her at the dining table.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “You haven’t given up on me representing your lonely hearts club, have you?”
“No. Your photo in the Wet & Wild Cowboy Firefighters calendar drew me here. That hasn’t changed one bit since I got here. ”
He nodded, then pulled the plate with his piece of pie close to him and dug in with a fork.
She followed his action, but she didn’t feel hungry now.
He ate a couple of bites before he set down his fork. He looked out the windows, then back at her. “Maybe we can compromise.”
“What do you mean?” She felt her taste come back with the advent of sudden hope.
“You’ve invested a lot of time and effort in something you’re obviously passionate about.”
“I am. Everyone deserves true love.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“True love.”
“I’m looking for others…not myself,” she said.
“Why not?”
“It’s just that I’ve never been lucky in love.”
“I can’t imagine why not.”
“Let’s let it go at that.” She forked a bite of pie into her mouth, but she’d lost her taste for it again.
“I don’t see how you can promote something you don’t believe in.”
“I do believe in it.”
“Prove it.” He leaned toward her with a challenging gleam in his green eyes.
“Prove it?” She didn’t trust that gleam. “How?”
“Kiss me.”
She took a deep breath, wanting that very thing and not wanting it at the same time. Mr. July was getting more dangerous to her heart every moment she was in his company.
“You’re not willing to put yourself on the line?”
“I didn’t think you were interested in—”
“I’m not interested in posing for your website, but I am interested in you.”
“Oh.” She felt her face flush at his words as heat rushed through her entire body.
“I thought you might be interested in an experiment, seeing as how you’ve come all this way from San Antonio.”
“Experiment?”
He tossed his napkin on the table, stood up, and held out his hand to her. “Let’s go out on the patio and discuss our options.”
She gestured toward the dirty plates and table full of dishes. “Shouldn’t we clean up?”
“It can wait. I can’t.”
She grasped his hand, palm to palm, as she stood up. She could feel the roughness of his skin, see the stubble of his beard, and smell the soap he’d used in his shower. It was all heady stuff.
He led her into the sunroom, turned on a lamp for soft illumination, and opened the back door so that pale light spilled outside. The scent of roses in bloom filled the night air and moonlight cast a silvery glow over the patio.
“Why don’t you sit on the glider while I go back and get our wine?”
“Okay.” She really couldn’t say more as she watched him go inside because she felt as if her heart were in her throat.
When he returned, he handed her a glass, clinked hers with his, and nodded as if he’d made a decision.
She took a sip and returned his smile. She felt good, happy, contented. It was a mild, sweetscented spring night with a handsome man by her side. If she could convey
this setting, this feeling, to her lonely hearts club, she felt sure people would positively respond in droves.
He leaned toward her. “Now, about your lonely hearts club…”
She leaned toward him. “Yes?”
“Do you really need me?”
“I want you.” She immediately wished she’d chosen different words.
“I want you, too.” He set down his glass. “What are we going to do about it?”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant, but can’t you mean something more, something personal, something just between us?”
She felt her heart pick up speed. She caught his gaze…and felt as if she’d always belonged here in this moment with this man.
“Something special?” he asked.
She had to respond, but she couldn’t find the words. If he looked at her with any more heat in his eyes, she might spontaneously combust. “I…” And then she threw caution to the wind, leaned forward, and kissed him. It was just a soft, fleeting, tender touch before she moved back.
“I hope that was only an appetizer.” He clasped her shoulders with both hands and gently tugged her toward him.
She leaned into him, feeling his heat, his strength, his power. She wanted it all. She didn’t want to compromise. She raised her face, waiting for his kiss…waiting…waiting…
“I want you to know I don’t do this lightly. I know you really only want me for your lonely hearts club. I know you’ll go back to San Antonio when you get what you want here. I know all that, and I still want to kiss you. I need to kiss you. I plan to kiss you. It’s just that I’m a serious kind of guy.”
“Kemp, I swear if you say one more word, I’m taking the pie and going home.”
He grinned, chuckling. “You’d take the pie? That’s serious.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m serious, too.” She put her palms on each side of his face. “Please, just kiss me.”
And he did…tender at first, then with growing passion until he lifted her up, set her on his lap, leaned her head back against his arm, and held her tightly.
She felt his heat and strength and desire build as one kiss followed another and he delved deeply into her mouth, hugged her closer and closer as if desperate to meld their bodies so they could never be separate again.
Finally, he raised his head, kissed the tip of her nose, gave her a slight smile. “And I thought that fire I just fought was hot.”
***
Excerpted from Cowboy Fire by Kim Redford. © 2021 by Kim Redford. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
COWBOY FIRE by Kim Redford: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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A WOLF IN DUKE’S CLOTHING by Susanna Allen: Excerpt & Spotlight
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A Duke in want of a wife…
Alfred Blakesley, Duke of Lowell, has long been an enigma. No one dares to give a man of his status the cut direct, but there’s simply something not quite right about him. What would the society ladies say if they learned the truth—that the Duke of Lowell is a wolf shifter and the leader of a pack facing extinction if he doesn’t find his true love? So now he’s on the hunt…for a wife.
Felicity Templeton has a goal of her own: to remain unwed until her twenty-fifth birthday, when she will inherit a significant fortune. But that all changes when she meets Alfred, the dashing duke who’s determined to have her for his very own…
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Following her first meal in Lowell Hall, Felicity and the duke retire to the drawing room for tea. Felicity refuses to marry the duke as they know nothing of one another; he calls her bluff and proceeds to inquire after her interests…
“I sketch,” she allowed. “I am fond of drawing animals.”
“Animals?” He pretended to scoff. “A lowly subject.”
“I disagree. I find there is nothing nobler than the beasts of the field, the birds of the air. I admire their freedom to be themselves, despite many species having been domesticated by humans. I commend the way they take care of one another in their groups or herds.” She peeped at him, hesitant. “I speak of horses, in the main.”
“There is little that is natural regarding man’s treatment of the horse.”
“I do not disagree. Man owes civilization to horses and often repays them with mistreatment. I believe we can show true gratitude to the horse with conscientious husbandry. I believe our diligence in this matter will make the whole world a better place.”
“A bleeding heart.” He was baiting her, of course, and her defense of creatures both great and small thrilled him to the core.
“A beating heart, a heart that acknowledges the dignity of all sentient beings.” Her hazel eyes glowed like topaz with her passion.
“Had they any will of their own, they would not allow themselves to become subjugated by us.”
“I do not deny that there are many who would seek to subjugate so-called inferior creatures,” Felicity allowed, “but those who are sensitive will garner only the best from the animals in their care. If only we would learn from them.”
“A radical, bleeding heart.”
“Better a radical than one who stands by and does nothing. Better a bleeding heart than one that has turned to stone.” Miss Templeton scowled at him. “I know your kind, looking down on all around you, full of your position in life that was nothing more than an accident of breeding. Little separates you from the animals, Your Grace.”
“Oh, very little indeed,” he agreed, struggling to keep his composure. “But come, such a fuss over mere animals.”
“Mere animals?” She very nearly shrieked.
He went to meet her fury. “For why would we, who have speech and independence, care for beasts of burden or common house pets?”
“If it is speech that elevates us, only recall the numberless times that words have caused ill. Only think what is being said about me at this precise moment and tell me that language is something to be proud of.” Miss Templeton forgot herself so far as to fist her hands on her hips. “And as for free will? Those such as you, Your Grace,” she spat, imbuing a world of spite in his title, “those in the upper echelons of society may consider free will their birthright, but the majority do not have that luxury. Why must one species be found superior to the other? Why can we not live in harmony? Why must our own baser instincts cause our animals to be abused? How simple it would be to change our behavior, to make a difference.”
“It is all well and good my dear, but one woman? Make a difference? In the larger world?” By the Goddess, whatever she wanted, he would ensure she achieved it.
“Yes, one woman. One woman, who has the knowledge and the will. Knowledge and will are not the sole provinces of men.”
“And what do you speak of, then?” he challenged. “Training house cats? Bringing dogs indoors?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “Just for the sake of argument, mind. Horse breeding.”
“A gentleman’s time-honored pursuit—”
“A pursuit that has resulted in inbred mounts that, more often than not, do not live up to expectation and must be destroyed. Or result in unreliable beasts that end up hurting their riders or themselves.” Miss Templeton stood near enough to him to bite him on the chin. “All it would take is the cross of stock in such a way that would guarantee the best of both will out.”
“But madam, how then would our equine friends acquire their mates?” Alfred inquired. “Do the studs apply to the fathers of the mares for the hands, or rather the hooves, of their intended?” He snuck a breath, inhaling her dudgeon, her ardency, her ferocity, and his wolf was like to howling at the full moon.
“Do not be ridiculous.”
“Or do they see, and scent, and take?” He leaned in, all but whispering in her ear. “Do they follow instincts unknown to anyone but the stallion and mare involved? Is it the stallion’s pursuit that inspires the mare or the mare’s willingness to be covered that inflames the stallion?”
“You seek to discompose me.” She blushed but held his gaze. “You are mocking my beliefs. You are mocking me.” She turned to leave, and he stopped her with a hand on the slice of bare arm below her puffed sleeve and above her glove. “You mock me by keeping me here, as if the whole world would believe that you wanted me above all others. I will find a way to leave here and put this sham behind me.”
He gripped her arm. “You will not leave me.” The dominatum rushed through him and once again had no effect on her whatsoever. “We will marry, and not only because it is what society will demand.”
“You may force me to the altar.” Miss Templeton stuck out her chin in defiance. “But you cannot make me respond to the vows.”
“What might you respond to?” He leaned in and ran his nose down her cheek, around her jaw. “This?” She shivered. “Ah, I do know something about you, after all—that a stroke on the cheek makes you tremble.” He breathed in her scent and breathed out, gently, against her neck. “I was merely playing devil’s advocate,” he crooned as he let his lips touch her earlobe. “It was not my intention to mock you. I find your passion quite…stimulating.” He felt her quiver, said, “Do pardon me,” and kissed her.
***
Excerpted from A Duke in Wolf’s Clothing by Susanna Allen. © 2021 by Susanna Allen. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
A WOLF IN DUKE’S CLOTHING by Susanna Allen: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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A COWBOY OF LEGEND by Linda Broday: Excerpt & Spotlight
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Famous across Texas, the Legends stand ready to take on any challenge that comes their way…
Deacon Brannock has struggled his whole life to amount to something. But when he finally saves up enough to buy the saloon that’ll put him on the map, he’s immediately challenged by the Temperance Movement. He only wants to make an honest living, but there’s no stopping the Movement’s most determined firebrand: Grace Legend.
And after one look at the fierce beauty, he’s not even sure he wants to.
Grace has always had her pet crusades, but she sees the Temperance Movement as the one thing that will bring her the deep sense of purpose she’s been missing. Yet when the owner of the new saloon turns out to be a kind and considerate man with warm eyes and a smile that leaves her breathless, she can’t help but wonder whether they could have a future together…if only they could find a way to stop being enemies long enough to become so much more.
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“Destroyer of men’s souls! Beware the pitfalls of the devil’s brew!” Grace Legend held up her sign and directed her loud yells into the murky interior of the Three Deuces saloon.
A gust of wind delivered the stench of the nearby stockyards up her nose and a swirl of dirt to her eyes. She blinked several times to clear the grit as two dozen Temperance women behind her took up the chant, banging drums and shaking tambourines.
A surly individual went around her and reached for the batwing doors. Grace swatted him with her sign. “Get back! Back, I say. This den of iniquity is closed to the likes of you.”
Built like a bull and smelling like the south end of a northbound steer, the man narrowed his gaze and raised a meaty fist. “This here’s a free country and I can go anywhere I like.”
Gunfire rang out down the street and a woman screamed. Grace was glad she’d stuck a derringer in her pocket. This section of town saw killings every day even though the citizens Fort Worth cried for someone to clean it up.
She wanted to take a step back from the surly man worse than anything. She really did. He had meanness rolling off him like thick rancid snake oil. But giving ground wasn’t in her make up. Not today and not as long as she was alive.
Grace sucked in a quick breath, shot him a piercing glare and parked herself across the doorway. “I bet your wife would like to know where you spend your time when you should be working. Shame on you wasting your money on whiskey.”
“I earn it and I’ll spend it however I see fit. Now step aside,” he snarled and raised a fist.
“Or else what?” A voice in Grace’s head warned that this course of action could be dangerous, but she never listened to that boring bit of reason. No, she saw it her right and duty to make a difference in the world and make it she would. She couldn’t do that sitting on her hands like some timid toad afraid to utter a sound.
At least a half dozen gunshots rent the air and people ducked. A crowd had begun to gather and pressed close. They got into a heated shouting match with her ladies.
Before she could move, the quarrelsome fellow barreled into her, knocking her sideways. Grace launched onto his back and began whopping him with the sign. However, the handle was too long for close fighting and none of her blows landed.
She released a frustrated cry and wrapped both arms around his head.
“Get off me!” he roared.
“When hell freezes over, you moron.”
A door banged and footsteps of someone new approached and yanked the two of them apart. “Hey, what’s the meaning of this?”
“Send her packing, Brannock!” someone yelled. “Don’t let her run you out of business.”
Chest heaving, she jerked at the bodice of her favorite royal blue dress that matched her eyes, straightening it before grabbing the immense hat that barely clung to one side of her head. She blew back a blond curl that fell across one eye blocking her view. Only then did she get a glimpse of the gentleman whose livelihood she meant to destroy, and the sight glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth.
That he presented a handsome picture with coal black hair and a lean form was indisputable, but it was more than that. A Stetson sat low on his forehead—a cowboy? Grace did a doubletake. Saloon owners wore bowlers, not Stetsons. She was unable to move her gaze from his piercing eyes. Shadowed by the brim of his hat, they reminded her of smoke. The stormy gray depths warned of the danger of crossing him.
And more. Oh my!
Grace took in his silk vest of dark green like those of gamblers. Her gaze rested on a well-used gun belt slung low on his hip complete with what appeared a long Peacemaker. By now, most men left their firearms at home. However, having grown up with weapons of all kinds on the Lone Star ranch, she understood the need to sometimes keep a gun handy. Although crime in the rough area had begun to decline, running a saloon at the edge of Hell’s Half Ace was still a risky business.
She patted the small derringer in her pocket to make sure it hadn’t fallen out.
“I asked what’s going on,” Brannock repeated.
Mr. Smelly glared, wiping blood from his forehead. So, she did get a lick in. “This churlish fishwife assaulted me, and I demand you do something.”
“Churlish fishwife?” Grace swung her sign again—only it caught the tall saloon keep instead, knocking him back a step.
Towering head and shoulders above her, Brannock snatched the sign from her hand, broke it over his knee, and pitched the pieces aside. His eyes had darkened to a shade she’d never seen before and had no words to describe. “Care to explain why you’re running off my business, lady?”
The question came out silky and wrapped in velvet like her father’s did when he wanted to put the fear of God into someone. That frightened her far more than yelling. This cowboy saloon owner was someone to reckon with.
Although quaking inside, Grace drew herself up and thrust out her chin. “I’m asserting my God given right to free speech.”
“You tell him, Grace!” one of the women yelled.
“Free speech about?” he snapped.
“The evils of drink. It’s destroying the fabric of our society and wrecking homes.”
“And it’s your duty to straighten us men out?” he barked.
She inhaled a shaky breath. “As much as I’m able. I cannot turn a blind eye to hungry kids and wives bearing the scars of abuse.”
***
Excerpted from A Cowboy of Legend by Linda Broday. © 2021 by Linda Broday. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
A COWBOY OF LEGEND by Linda Broday: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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THE WOLF WORE PLAID by Terry Spear: Excerpt & Spotlight
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An overprotective wolf meets his match in the Scottish Highlands of today…
Heather MacNeil has never backed down from a fight. So when some shady shifters from a neighboring enemy clan come looking for trouble, she refuses to feed their satisfaction. There’s only one wolf that makes her go soft…
For packmate Enrick MacQuarrie, the work as second-in-command never ends—as the feud ignites, clan security is more vital than ever. But a certain unpredictable, feisty Highland lass is determined to stand up to the aggressors, and Enrick is equally determined to protect her.
The action builds as Heather and Enrick grow closer, but will they be willing to sacrifice their wild friendship for true love?
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“We’ve heard so much about your shop that we had to come and check it out,” Robert said, leaning against her counter.
She didn’t believe him for an instant. Her phone was sitting on the ledge below the high counter and out of his sight, so she started to text Ian to see if he could send some backup, other than her three brothers—Oran, Jamie, and Callum, who would just as likely kill the men and ask questions afterward—if she needed the help.
The doorbell jingled again, and she looked up to see who it was, afraid it would be more of the Kilpatricks’ kin. Instead, Enrick MacQuarrie pulled the door closed behind him, and a bit of relief washed over her. Now he was a welcome sight. Not for his supposed interest in dating her. That was so far-fetched, she couldn’t believe Lana would even think it. But Heather knew he would be all protective when it came to her or any other she-wolf of the MacNeill pack.
She didn’t send the text message to Ian, figuring Enrick would deal with the Kilpatricks if they gave her any trouble.
Not that she was totally reassured. Anything could go wrong, and she sure didn’t want Enrick hurt either.
He looked so much like one of the men wearing a New York T-shirt while they waited for their steak pies that he could have been his double. Ever since Guy McNab had made it big as a film star in America, Enrick had been mistaken for him whenever he ventured out of the area.
Enrick was the middle triplet brother of Grant and Lachlan MacQuarrie, tawny-haired and good-natured—except if he was defending the pack members or his friends, then watch out. He had a warrior’s heart, yet Heather had seen a real soft side to him too—playing tug-of-war with the Irish wolfhound pups, chasing the kids around the inner bailey in a game of tag, growling as if he were a wolf in his fur coat and making the kids squeal in delight. She’d seen him playing with his brothers as wolves and he was totally aggressive then, not wanting either of his brothers to win the battle between them. And in a snowball fight, he was the fastest snowball maker and thrower she’d ever seen. If they played on teams, she wanted him on hers.
So he did let his hair down, so to speak, with the kids and with his brothers and others. With her? He clearly thought she was trouble.
At least he was a wolf with a pack friendly to her own, and she smiled brightly at him, glad he was here in case she needed him.
There was no smile for her, his look instead dark and imposing as he glanced from her to the Kilpatrick brothers, still trying to figure out what they wanted to buy. She hoped Enrick wouldn’t start a fight. They had so many customers, and she didn’t want to see a brawl break out in front of them. It surely wouldn’t help business.
Robert pointed to the sign on the wall listing the kind of pies they sold. “We’ll take a couple of the steak and kidney pies to go.”
Okay, so they weren’t causing trouble. Yet. They hadn’t noticed Enrick’s arrival, and she hoped he wouldn’t cause things to get ugly when the other men were behaving…for the moment. Enrick was observing them with a do-anything-I-don’t-like-and-you’ll-die look.
Robert leaned against the oak countertop. “We hear there’s supposed to be a movie filmed at one of the castles nearby.”
As her heartbeat quickened, Heather’s gaze darted to Enrick’s, and he raised his brows at her. Man, she was about to give the secret away in that one little glance at him. She knew he would question her next, once the men left. He could probably hear her heart suddenly beating way too fast.
“We had a movie filmed at our castle a few years back, but that’s it.” Heather placed their order with Rush stamped on it. She’d never used the stamp before, but this was certainly one of those times it came in handy.
“Not that film. A new one. More of a…fantasy,” Patrick said, “featuring wolves, even.”
“At the MacNeills’ castle? No,” she said, shaking her head. She wasn’t lying. Ian MacNeill swore they would never have another film shot at their castle. At the time they’d been in dire straits financially, and the only way to keep the castle solvent was to do the film. Wolf packs had to keep their identity secret. Having tons of nonwolves traipsing through Argent Castle and the grounds could be problematic. Her pack had had to send a couple of newly turned wolves to stay with the MacQuarries, just so the human cast and crew wouldn’t have the surprise of seeing the newbies shift during the full moon.
***
Excerpted from The Wolf Wore Plaid by Terry Spear. © 2021 by Terry Spear. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
About Terry Spear
USA Today Bestseller, TERRY SPEAR writes urban fantasy and Highland medieval romance: hot wolves, jaguar shifters, medieval Highlanders and lots more. She also pens young adult paranormal romance. She has over fifty paranormal books to her name, earned Publisher’s Weekly Best Books of the Year, and has been featured in The International Wolf Magazine, Woman’s World and BGS Book Review Magazine. She creates award-winning teddy bears in the heart of Texas and gardens. She retired from USAR after rappelling, mountain climbing, learning water survival, qualifying with a number of firearms, survived the obstacle courses, leadership reaction courses and confidences courses – and knows if she can do it, her characters can overcome any obstacle she puts in their path.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
THE WOLF WORE PLAID by Terry Spear: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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THE WOLF WORE PLAID by Terry Spear: Excerpt & Spotlight
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
An overprotective wolf meets his match in the Scottish Highlands of today…
Heather MacNeil has never backed down from a fight. So when some shady shifters from a neighboring enemy clan come looking for trouble, she refuses to feed their satisfaction. There’s only one wolf that makes her go soft…
For packmate Enrick MacQuarrie, the work as second-in-command never ends—as the feud ignites, clan security is more vital than ever. But a certain unpredictable, feisty Highland lass is determined to stand up to the aggressors, and Enrick is equally determined to protect her.
The action builds as Heather and Enrick grow closer, but will they be willing to sacrifice their wild friendship for true love?
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Excerpt
“We’ve heard so much about your shop that we had to come and check it out,” Robert said, leaning against her counter.
She didn’t believe him for an instant. Her phone was sitting on the ledge below the high counter and out of his sight, so she started to text Ian to see if he could send some backup, other than her three brothers—Oran, Jamie, and Callum, who would just as likely kill the men and ask questions afterward—if she needed the help.
The doorbell jingled again, and she looked up to see who it was, afraid it would be more of the Kilpatricks’ kin. Instead, Enrick MacQuarrie pulled the door closed behind him, and a bit of relief washed over her. Now he was a welcome sight. Not for his supposed interest in dating her. That was so far-fetched, she couldn’t believe Lana would even think it. But Heather knew he would be all protective when it came to her or any other she-wolf of the MacNeill pack.
She didn’t send the text message to Ian, figuring Enrick would deal with the Kilpatricks if they gave her any trouble.
Not that she was totally reassured. Anything could go wrong, and she sure didn’t want Enrick hurt either.
He looked so much like one of the men wearing a New York T-shirt while they waited for their steak pies that he could have been his double. Ever since Guy McNab had made it big as a film star in America, Enrick had been mistaken for him whenever he ventured out of the area.
Enrick was the middle triplet brother of Grant and Lachlan MacQuarrie, tawny-haired and good-natured—except if he was defending the pack members or his friends, then watch out. He had a warrior’s heart, yet Heather had seen a real soft side to him too—playing tug-of-war with the Irish wolfhound pups, chasing the kids around the inner bailey in a game of tag, growling as if he were a wolf in his fur coat and making the kids squeal in delight. She’d seen him playing with his brothers as wolves and he was totally aggressive then, not wanting either of his brothers to win the battle between them. And in a snowball fight, he was the fastest snowball maker and thrower she’d ever seen. If they played on teams, she wanted him on hers.
So he did let his hair down, so to speak, with the kids and with his brothers and others. With her? He clearly thought she was trouble.
At least he was a wolf with a pack friendly to her own, and she smiled brightly at him, glad he was here in case she needed him.
There was no smile for her, his look instead dark and imposing as he glanced from her to the Kilpatrick brothers, still trying to figure out what they wanted to buy. She hoped Enrick wouldn’t start a fight. They had so many customers, and she didn’t want to see a brawl break out in front of them. It surely wouldn’t help business.
Robert pointed to the sign on the wall listing the kind of pies they sold. “We’ll take a couple of the steak and kidney pies to go.”
Okay, so they weren’t causing trouble. Yet. They hadn’t noticed Enrick’s arrival, and she hoped he wouldn’t cause things to get ugly when the other men were behaving…for the moment. Enrick was observing them with a do-anything-I-don’t-like-and-you’ll-die look.
Robert leaned against the oak countertop. “We hear there’s supposed to be a movie filmed at one of the castles nearby.”
As her heartbeat quickened, Heather’s gaze darted to Enrick’s, and he raised his brows at her. Man, she was about to give the secret away in that one little glance at him. She knew he would question her next, once the men left. He could probably hear her heart suddenly beating way too fast.
“We had a movie filmed at our castle a few years back, but that’s it.” Heather placed their order with Rush stamped on it. She’d never used the stamp before, but this was certainly one of those times it came in handy.
“Not that film. A new one. More of a…fantasy,” Patrick said, “featuring wolves, even.”
“At the MacNeills’ castle? No,” she said, shaking her head. She wasn’t lying. Ian MacNeill swore they would never have another film shot at their castle. At the time they’d been in dire straits financially, and the only way to keep the castle solvent was to do the film. Wolf packs had to keep their identity secret. Having tons of nonwolves traipsing through Argent Castle and the grounds could be problematic. Her pack had had to send a couple of newly turned wolves to stay with the MacQuarries, just so the human cast and crew wouldn’t have the surprise of seeing the newbies shift during the full moon.
***
Excerpted from The Wolf Wore Plaid by Terry Spear. © 2021 by Terry Spear. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
THE WOLF WORE PLAID by Terry Spear: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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THE NIGHTBORN by Isabel Cooper: Spotlight & Excerpt
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
Sentinels spend their lives fighting the monsters that prey upon humanity.
As the Traitor God’s army grows and war looms ever-closer, Sentinel Branwyn arrives in the gleaming city-state of Heliodar to ask its High Council for aid. Its youngest member, Zelen Varengir, is sympathetic to her cause, but his hands are tied by his powerful family—and when they demand he spy upon the beautiful warrior, there is little he can do but obey.
But something stronger than blood draws Zelen and Branwyn together, and when Branwyn is framed for the murder of the High Lord himself, the unlikely duo must learn to trust each other if they want to discover the deep secrets hidden in the heart of the city, uncover the real enemies moving against them, and embrace the attraction neither can deny…all while facing down the return of the greatest threat the world has ever known.
Fans of The Witcher and Ilona Andrews will love this epic tale of adventure and romance.
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Excerpt
“Lord Rognozi and his wife are dead.”
The words made no sense for a second. Then they took Zelen’s breath away as thoroughly as any of his mother’s lectures or the beatings his father had ordered. Gedo wasn’t putting in nearly as much effort as had gone into the other incidents: he was either very talented or very fortunate.
“When? How?”
It would have been unsurprising for Lord Rognozi to have perished quite naturally and uneventfully, and dimly possible that his wife might not have survived the shock and sorrow of it, though it would’ve run counter to what Zelen knew of the lady. That wouldn’t have brought Gedomir to his bedroom.
“Murdered. Butchered, in fact, late last night. If you want the more sordid details, I’m afraid I didn’t ask for an anatomical report. I’m given to understand that the servant who found them is in a state of shock.” He smoothed an imaginary strand of impeccable hair back from his brow. “And your…envoy…has vanished. As has her very large, very likely magical sword.”
“She’d never—”
Zelen lunged forward, with no notion of what the motion might achieve. Denial simply demanded action.
As he’d so frequently done in their past, Gedomir smiled with lofty derision, not to mention a share of pity. “She has, I’m afraid. You’re welcome to try and convince me that a burglar broke into one of the best-warded noble houses in the city and did nothing but slaughter the inhabitants, or that a servant with years of service suddenly went unstoppably berserk in a manner that didn’t rouse the attention of the others in their quarters.”
Colors faded from the world. Zelen sat silently and Gedomir fell silent as well as Idriel stepped in, carrying a tray of tea and cakes. He put it down in front of Zelen and glanced between him and Gedomir: Shall I pretend you have another engagement?
Zelen shook his head. Even that motion took an almost unsupportable amount of strength. “Thank you, Idriel, that will be all,” he said by rote.
“Very good, sir.”
“It may not be entirely her fault, granted,” Gedomir said. “I can perceive no motive for the action, regardless of what others may think, given what you’ve told me of her nature. The Criwath court, or even subversive agents there that Olwin knows nothing of, may have placed a spell on her for this purpose. Or her experiences in the war may have caused damage that hid until now.”
“If she did it,” Zelen said, “I’m certain that it wasn’t of her own will.”
“I’m certain that you’re certain. And Father and I are prepared to take that into account,” Gedomir said, spreading his hands. The ring with Verengir’s crest, his only ornament, gleamed in the pale light of the autumn morning. “Honestly, the information she can provide is more valuable than any vengeance would be—the Dark Lady can wait on her claim. Father thinks the rest of the council might even see a case for clemency, if the circumstances are right.”
“Does he?”
“Would I speak falsely?” Gedomir’s lips tightened, but then he relaxed. “I understand that you’re…biased, but for once your proclivities may have been useful. There’s clearly more here than simple murder. Father and I are prepared to investigate it and to argue as much in the face of all opposition—once you retrieve the woman, of course.”
There was rock under her cheek and blood in her mouth. Her arms were sticky—probably more blood—and a net of pain wrapped her whole body, fiercest around her right knee and her left eye. Branwyn was fairly sure her nose was broken too.
All of that was comparatively minor. She’d been injured more severely in the past, though not often, and the healing of a Sentinel was already doing its work, pulling bones and muscles back into place. Even the knee, which would likely have crippled a normal person for life, would give her only a few days of trouble. Branwyn knew as much, and none of her wounds troubled her.
She had no room in her mind to worry about them anyhow. As consciousness returned, she searched her memory for the fight that must have taken place and found only blankness, then paralyzing fear.
After the ball, she’d felt uneasy about the Rognozis’ house. She’d gone to get Yathana. From that moment, she remembered nothing concrete: she had a dim recollection of the world spinning, of a sword in her grip and the smell of blood and death, but that was all.
Now she was—her eyes focused, one considerably slower than the other—in an alley, in the early morning, wearing the blood-soaked remains of her ball gown.
Yathana was gone.
Her memory had an enormous hole.
There was blood on her arms, up to the elbows, and she couldn’t feel any cuts there.
What happened? was her third question.
Where’s Yathana? came in second.
The first was What did I do?
***
Excerpted from The Nightborn by Isabel Cooper. © 2021 by Isabel Cooper. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
THE NIGHTBORN by Isabel Cooper: Spotlight & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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WHEN A COWBOY LOVES A WOMAN by Jennie Marts: Spotlight & Excerpt
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
They both know the pain of loss and how to protect their hearts…but fate has a way of stepping in…
When a kitchen fire forces young widow Elle Brooks to move in with her friend Bryn and her motley collection of rescue animals, she doesn’t foresee ending up in the muscled arms of handsome cowboy and veterinarian Brody Tate. But she can’t deny the feelings that being close to Brody are stirring in her. Spending time with the hunky cowboy and his adorable young daughter as they rehabilitate rescued horses reminds Elle of all she lost in a car crash years ago.
As a widower himself, Brody is devoted to being a good dad for his spirited daughter. He hasn’t let romance even enter his head. But now he’s met Elle. Spending time with her is shaking up the calm he’s worked so hard to achieve, and he can’t seem to get this woman off his mind.
Elle and Brody have both lost people they loved, but their mutual attraction and growing feelings are too strong to ignore. The hope of a future together is a beautiful possibility, but can these two wounded souls take a chance on each other and find the courage to love again?
Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple Books
Add to Goodreads
Excerpt
Everything hurts, thought Elle Brooks as she sank lower in the bathtub. Her back and shoulders ached from carrying bales of hay and brushing the horses that morning at the Heaven Can Wait Horse Rescue, where she volunteered. Although she preferred the physical labor over the headache she got from spending the afternoon with her financial advisor, going over the trust and through her finances. Between his company and his considerable life insurance policy, her beloved Ryan had left her with a substantial amount of money. But she’d give it all away for one more day with him.
She pushed a bubbly pile of suds across the spacious garden bathtub as the final strains of one of her favorite Pink songs faded in her ears. Usually the pop star’s music could energize her, but tonight she felt more like a sinking stone than any kind of rock star. With a sigh, she pushed the drain release with her toe and pulled the earbuds from her ears.
That’s when she heard the sirens.
Hair raised on the nape of her neck, and a chill that had nothing to do with the cooling bathwater raced up her spine. She slammed her eyes shut against the onslaught of memories. It had been over a year since Ryan died, but the images of the ambulance’s throbbing lights and the mournful sounds of the sirens were as vivid as if it had happened the day before.
She caught the first whiff of smoke as she heard the fire trucks pull up in front of her house. Water sloshed over the side as she stumbled to get out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, she scarcely had time to run it over her body before she heard the slam of her front door and raised voices.
Reaching for her pajamas, she pulled on the cotton shorts and wrenched the tank top over her head.
Move, her brain screamed. Get out.
The fabric clung to her damp skin as she snatched up her short robe and raced out of the bathroom. From the landing, she could see a flurry of men in yellow coats dragging a gray hose across the Italian marble of her foyer toward her kitchen.
She choked on the acrid smoke filling the air. There were no blazing flames, but the smoke scorched her throat, and she blinked against the sting of it to her eyes.
An older fireman caught sight of her. “You need to get out of the house, ma’am.”
Panic gripped her as she wildly looked around at the chaos invading her home. Then her gaze caught and held on the familiar eyes of the tall cowboy who’d just stepped into view. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a black Stetson hat, and the sight of his broad shoulders filling the doorway somehow grounded her.
She didn’t really know him—she’d briefly met him a few weeks ago. But that one time had shown his ability to stay calm and steady in a crisis situation. His name was Brody—Doctor Brody Tate. He was her best friend Bryn’s veterinarian. But why was a veterinarian at a house fire?
A plume of dark smoke billowed out of the kitchen, and Elle caught the distinct sound of the crackle of flames. She coughed, then turned around and ran back down the hallway.
She heard the older fireman’s voice yelling, “Get her out of here, Tate,” followed by the sound of cowboy boots sprinting up the stairs as she raced to the closed door at the end of the hall.
She pushed through, ignoring the rush of emotions that normally flooded her when she opened the door to the room decorated in pink-and-white stripes. A hand-knit pink blanket lay in the seat of the rocking chair. Elle grabbed it and clutched it to her chest. If she could only save one thing, it had to be this.
She turned back to see Brody in the doorway. He didn’t say anything, just reached for her hand and led her quickly back down the hallway.
They reached the top of the stairs, and she froze again at the commotion below—the rush of the firefighters’ feet, the commanding tone of their voices as they shouted orders, the pulsing flash of red lights against the white walls of her entryway.
Brody pulled at her hand, but she couldn’t move. He turned back and must have seen the panic in her eyes. His tone was soft as he swept her up, cradling her to him as if she weighed nothing at all. “It’s all right, darlin’. I’ve got you.”
She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him, as he carried her down the stairs and out the front door. Elle lifted her head and gulped at the fresh air.
“Is there anyone else in the house? Any pets?”
She shook her head. “No. Only me.”
“You remember me? We met a couple of weeks ago at Bryn’s?”
“Yes, I remember. But what are you doing here?” And why was she clutching his neck like he was a life preserver? A handsome, tall cowboy life preserver.
***
Excerpted from When a Cowboy Loves a Woman by Jennie Marts. © 2021 by Jennie Marts. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
About Jennie Marts
Jennie Marts loves to make readers laugh as she weaves stories filled with love, friendship and intrigue. She writes for Entangled Publishing and is the Kindle Bestselling author of the Page Turners series, which includes the romantic comedies: Another Saturday Night & I Ain’t Got No Body, Easy Like Sunday Mourning, and Just Another Maniac Monday. Reviewers call her books “laugh out loud” funny and full of great characters that are “endearing and relatable.”
She writes from the mountains of Colorado where she lives with her husband, two sons, a golden retriever named Cooper and a Sheltie puppy named Maggie. Jennie enjoys being a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Colorado Indie Authors, and Pikes Peak Writers.
Jennie is addicted to Diet Coke and adores Cheetos. She loves playing volleyball and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes or friends.
Jennie loves to hear from readers. Follow her on Facebook at Jennie Marts Books , or Twitter at @JennieMarts.
Visit her at www.jenniemarts.com and subscribe to her newsletter for the latest on new releases and to find out the current happenings with the Pleasant Valley Page Turners.
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
WHEN A COWBOY LOVES A WOMAN by Jennie Marts: Spotlight & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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WHEN A COWBOY LOVES A WOMAN by Jennie Marts: Spotlight & Excerpt
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
They both know the pain of loss and how to protect their hearts…but fate has a way of stepping in…
When a kitchen fire forces young widow Elle Brooks to move in with her friend Bryn and her motley collection of rescue animals, she doesn’t foresee ending up in the muscled arms of handsome cowboy and veterinarian Brody Tate. But she can’t deny the feelings that being close to Brody are stirring in her. Spending time with the hunky cowboy and his adorable young daughter as they rehabilitate rescued horses reminds Elle of all she lost in a car crash years ago.
As a widower himself, Brody is devoted to being a good dad for his spirited daughter. He hasn’t let romance even enter his head. But now he’s met Elle. Spending time with her is shaking up the calm he’s worked so hard to achieve, and he can’t seem to get this woman off his mind.
Elle and Brody have both lost people they loved, but their mutual attraction and growing feelings are too strong to ignore. The hope of a future together is a beautiful possibility, but can these two wounded souls take a chance on each other and find the courage to love again?
Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple Books
Add to Goodreads
Excerpt
Everything hurts, thought Elle Brooks as she sank lower in the bathtub. Her back and shoulders ached from carrying bales of hay and brushing the horses that morning at the Heaven Can Wait Horse Rescue, where she volunteered. Although she preferred the physical labor over the headache she got from spending the afternoon with her financial advisor, going over the trust and through her finances. Between his company and his considerable life insurance policy, her beloved Ryan had left her with a substantial amount of money. But she’d give it all away for one more day with him.
She pushed a bubbly pile of suds across the spacious garden bathtub as the final strains of one of her favorite Pink songs faded in her ears. Usually the pop star’s music could energize her, but tonight she felt more like a sinking stone than any kind of rock star. With a sigh, she pushed the drain release with her toe and pulled the earbuds from her ears.
That’s when she heard the sirens.
Hair raised on the nape of her neck, and a chill that had nothing to do with the cooling bathwater raced up her spine. She slammed her eyes shut against the onslaught of memories. It had been over a year since Ryan died, but the images of the ambulance’s throbbing lights and the mournful sounds of the sirens were as vivid as if it had happened the day before.
She caught the first whiff of smoke as she heard the fire trucks pull up in front of her house. Water sloshed over the side as she stumbled to get out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, she scarcely had time to run it over her body before she heard the slam of her front door and raised voices.
Reaching for her pajamas, she pulled on the cotton shorts and wrenched the tank top over her head.
Move, her brain screamed. Get out.
The fabric clung to her damp skin as she snatched up her short robe and raced out of the bathroom. From the landing, she could see a flurry of men in yellow coats dragging a gray hose across the Italian marble of her foyer toward her kitchen.
She choked on the acrid smoke filling the air. There were no blazing flames, but the smoke scorched her throat, and she blinked against the sting of it to her eyes.
An older fireman caught sight of her. “You need to get out of the house, ma’am.”
Panic gripped her as she wildly looked around at the chaos invading her home. Then her gaze caught and held on the familiar eyes of the tall cowboy who’d just stepped into view. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a black Stetson hat, and the sight of his broad shoulders filling the doorway somehow grounded her.
She didn’t really know him—she’d briefly met him a few weeks ago. But that one time had shown his ability to stay calm and steady in a crisis situation. His name was Brody—Doctor Brody Tate. He was her best friend Bryn’s veterinarian. But why was a veterinarian at a house fire?
A plume of dark smoke billowed out of the kitchen, and Elle caught the distinct sound of the crackle of flames. She coughed, then turned around and ran back down the hallway.
She heard the older fireman’s voice yelling, “Get her out of here, Tate,” followed by the sound of cowboy boots sprinting up the stairs as she raced to the closed door at the end of the hall.
She pushed through, ignoring the rush of emotions that normally flooded her when she opened the door to the room decorated in pink-and-white stripes. A hand-knit pink blanket lay in the seat of the rocking chair. Elle grabbed it and clutched it to her chest. If she could only save one thing, it had to be this.
She turned back to see Brody in the doorway. He didn’t say anything, just reached for her hand and led her quickly back down the hallway.
They reached the top of the stairs, and she froze again at the commotion below—the rush of the firefighters’ feet, the commanding tone of their voices as they shouted orders, the pulsing flash of red lights against the white walls of her entryway.
Brody pulled at her hand, but she couldn’t move. He turned back and must have seen the panic in her eyes. His tone was soft as he swept her up, cradling her to him as if she weighed nothing at all. “It’s all right, darlin’. I’ve got you.”
She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him, as he carried her down the stairs and out the front door. Elle lifted her head and gulped at the fresh air.
“Is there anyone else in the house? Any pets?”
She shook her head. “No. Only me.”
“You remember me? We met a couple of weeks ago at Bryn’s?”
“Yes, I remember. But what are you doing here?” And why was she clutching his neck like he was a life preserver? A handsome, tall cowboy life preserver.
***
Excerpted from When a Cowboy Loves a Woman by Jennie Marts. © 2021 by Jennie Marts. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
WHEN A COWBOY LOVES A WOMAN by Jennie Marts: Spotlight & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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WARM NIGHTS IN MAGNOLIA BAY by Babette de Jongh: Spotlight & Excerpt
NOW AVAILABLE / SOURCEBOOKS CASABLANCA
An extraordinary new series from an extraordinary author…
Abby Curtis lands on her Aunt Reva’s doorstep at Bayside Barn with nowhere to go but up. Learning animal communication from her aunt while taking care of the motley assortment of rescue animals on the farm is an important part of Abby’s healing process. She is eager to begin a new life on her own, but she isn’t prepared for the magnetism between her and her handsome, stubborn and distracting new neighbor.
Quinn Lockhart snapped up the foreclosed estate next door determined to renovate and flip the beautiful bayou property. It’s all part of a plan to make a financial comeback and reconnect with his estranged son. Definitely not part of the plan is the noisy petting zoo next door dragging down his property value. But getting rid of it becomes more difficult when he falls for the lovely and passionate Abby and bonds with an abandoned wolf dog who’s mournfully waiting for his family to return. For humans and animals alike, it will take all the courage they can muster to learn to love again. But that’s a journey worth taking—with a little help from their furry friends.
You’ll fall in love right along with Abby as animals and humans alike find unexpected ways to connect, nurture each other, and thrive.
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Excerpt
Sweaty and tired, Abby decided shoveling poop could wait until after coffee. She set up the coffeepot and hit the button to perk. She had just removed her boots when a deep bellow of human rage galvanized Georgia, who sprinted across the yard and squeezed under the fence. A second later, her sharp barking joined the new neighbor’s angry expletives. Abby ran barefoot along the hedgerow fence toward Georgia’s hysterical barking.
A donkey’s cry made her heart race. How had Elijah gotten into the neighbor’s yard? Then she saw how. “Oh shit.” She climbed over a section of crumpled wire fencing and burst through a thick tangle of vegetation into a scene of mayhem and hysteria.
The new neighbor charged toward Elijah and flung his hands in the donkey’s face. “Shoo. Get out.”
Elijah reared, eyes rolling, ears pinned back. Abby grabbed a stout stick and rushed to defend her aunt’s traumatized donkey. “Stop! You’re scaring him.”
Bawling in terror, Elijah veered around the man’s waving arms and leaped over the crumpled wire fence. Georgia—all thirty pounds of short, snarling protection—stood between Abby and the crazy neighbor.
This mean man would not be getting any of the secret-family-recipe pound cake.
Holding the stick out like a sword, Abby snatched Georgia up one-handed and held her close. While she and the dog both trembled with reaction, Abby glared at her aunt’s new neighbor. “What is wrong with you? You scared that poor donkey half to death.”
The stupid neanderthal crossed his muscled arms in front of his wide chest. “Me? You’re asking what’s wrong with me? That big moose knocked me down!”
“Moose? Elijah is just a baby! He would never—”
“He stole my granola bar!”
“He stole…what?”
The man glanced at her stick. Like a warrior calculating his advantage in an armed conflict, he advanced, his expression fierce and his blue eyes so wild she could see the whites all around. “Your baby—who is the size of a moose, by the way—came onto my property, knocked me down, bit me on the ass, and stole a granola bar from my back pocket.”
Georgia trembled in Abby’s arms and growled in promised retribution should the man come close enough for her to reach.
Abby clutched the dog tighter. “I’m sorry if he hurt you. But you didn’t have to scare him.”
“Your ass is fine. Mine’s the one that’s been wounded.” He lunged forward and wrenched the stick from her hand, then tossed it aside, ignoring Georgia’s escalating growl. “And yet you’re planning to attack me with a stick?”
A hysterical giggle tickled the back of Abby’s throat. She bit her lips and patted Georgia. Laughing in the face of an animal-hating psychopath—maybe not the best move. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. I hope your…” She smothered an irreverent snort. “I hope your ass will recover.”
His lips twitched, a quickly stifled smile. “I guess it will, eventually.” He let the smile have its way, and it transformed his face from surly to sexy. Straight white teeth and deep blue eyes contrasted with deeply tanned skin. His sun-bleached brown hair hadn’t been combed this morning; he looked like a man who’d just tumbled out of bed and wouldn’t mind getting right back in, given sufficient motivation.
Not that she was interested in providing any such motivation. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? Hadn’t losing everything—her job, her self-respect, and the child she’d come to love—hadn’t that experience taught her anything?
It most certainly had. She was done with men. Done.
He crossed unfairly muscular arms over unfairly toned abs. “Enjoying the view?”
Her face heated. “Well enough.” She couldn’t deny that she’d been staring. But her appreciation of his well-developed form was purely academic.
“Only fair, I guess.” He swept an appreciative glance from her bare feet to her heated cheeks. His blue eyes shining with humor, he trapped her gaze in his. “I bought this place for the view, but I didn’t know until recently what a bargain I was getting.”
“Oh?” She glanced down at her dirt-smeared attire, a getup not likely to inspire such a flattering comment. Had he seen her yesterday with her robe gaping open? Or worse… Had he seen her skinny-dipping last night?
***
Excerpted from Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette de Jongh. © 2021 by Babette de Jongh. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
WARM NIGHTS IN MAGNOLIA BAY by Babette de Jongh: Spotlight & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster
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