Forever Cowboy: Montana's Rodeo Cowboys by Nan Reinhardt

Forever Cowboy:  Montana's Rodeo Cowboys

by Nan Reinhardt

Buy Links: 

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Apple Books

Kobo

 Book Blurb:

It was supposed to be just a vacation fling…


43-year-old Beth Dykeman’s life is spiraling—her 20-year marriage is over as is her career in Nashville’s Chamber of Commerce. Now back home in River’s Edge, Indiana, she’s grieving the end of her dream to have a family. Hoping to restart her life, she books a relaxing long weekend at a spa in beautiful Montana. But Beth arrives only to discover she accidentally booked a stay at a working dude ranch in the middle of Marietta’s 87th Copper Mountain Rodeo celebration weekend.  

When he’s not competing, 36-year-old bronc rider Del Foster works at the Aspen Springs Ranch. He’s ready to hang up his spurs. This rodeo will be his last competition before he finally settles down and buys his own small spread to train cutting horses. 

Their instant chemistry shocks them both, and on her last night, Beth indulges the attraction, knowing she’ll never see Del again. But fate has a way of changing plans and challenging assumptions. Can Beth and Del both have what they never knew they always wanted?

Excerpt:

Del could’ve stayed at the overlook for hours, simply watching Beth’s breathless exhilaration. He followed her gaze to the soaring mountain and the valley floor, a patchwork of still-verdant fields with the town tucked in among them. Marietta had been his home for so many years, and the beautiful mountains and valley had become so much a part of his very being that he often forgot to simply bask in the . . . what was the word she’d used? Glorious. He forgot to breathe in the gloriousness of it all. 

A ghost of a smile hovered on her mouth. Speaking of glorious. She was perfection, standing there with her arms out, her eyes taking in the scenery, her lush lips curved upward. He ached to kiss her, to touch her soft cheek. All he had to do was take one step, reach out, and she’d be in his arms. He blinked. 

What the hell is the matter with me? 

Clearing his throat, he pushed off the fence post and backed up. “We should go. I need . . . um, I need to get back with the . . . the . . . you know, stuff for Noel.” 

She turned to him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen anything so—” She caught her lower lip in her teeth, revealing a tiny chip in one front tooth. An imperfection that made her even more perfect. She crossed her hands over her heart and shook her head. “No words.” 

It was the softness of her gaze that nearly undid him. It was also what kept him from giving in to the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her stupid. She wasn’t a small woman, but somehow, she seemed fragile, vulnerable, and she brought out all his protective instincts, while at the same time, a hunger so intense he felt it from his head to his toes and everywhere in between. 

As they walked to the truck, he said, “I remember when I first came here, the spectacular scenery took me by surprise. Nothing like it in Boston.” 

She quirked one brow. “I thought I detected a bit of back East in your accent. You’re from Boston?” 

“Yeah, but I’ve been here a long time—long enough to be considered an official Montanan. Tell me about your home,” he said, as they pulled back onto the two-lane highway that fed down into Marietta. “Indiana?” 

“River’s Edge.” Beth leaned back against the headrest. “It’s . . . beautiful in its own way too. It’s right on a big bend of the Ohio River, and it’s full of history and art and music and good people. I was gone for twenty years, except for holiday visits, and so much has changed since I left. I feel like I’m going to have to learn the town where I was born all over again.” She gave a little shrug. “I’ll confess I haven’t made much of an effort since I’ve been back.” 

Del glanced over. The joy that had emanated from her at the overlook had faded and there was that sad smile he’d seen off and on since she’d arrived. “Why’d you leave Nashville after your marriage . . . you know, ended?” It was a deeply personal question and maybe he had no business asking, but she’d already told him she was recently divorced. 

“Nashville is Doug’s town.” 

He waited, hoping she’d elaborate and, after a pause, she continued. “He loves it there, and I was so young when we got married, it never occurred to me to not love it too.” 

“You were there for twenty years?” 

She nodded, and he debated whether to ask the question he really wanted the answer to. They rode in silence for a few more minutes, then he gave a mental shrug and went for it. Hell, in for a penny, as his grandmother used to say. “What happened?” 

She clasped her hands in her lap. “It was about babies.” 

“Babies?” 

“The divorce. Well, not entirely, but we’d been trying for a long time—years. Everything. It got expensive, but I wanted children, and my ex wasn’t interested in adoption.” She lowered her voice to a deeper pitch. “If I’m going to have kids, they’re going to be my kids.” She gave a little choked laugh. “It never happened. Apparently, I have a hostile womb.” She tipped her head to glance at him. “Sorry. TMI.” 

“No, it’s okay. So, no kids . . .” 

She looked rather sheepish for a second, then she squared her shoulders. “We grew apart. He was fine not having a family. I was devastated. I wanted what I grew up with—lots of family—parents, grandparents, sister, brothers, cousins. I just couldn’t seem to get past it, and that turned everything between us sour. He hated how sad I was. I hated how easily he let it all go.” 

“So you left? Went home to Indiana?” 

“Not immediately.” She snorted. “We became an age-old story. He couldn’t deal with my unhappiness, so he found a distraction and gave me a reason to go.” 

Del didn’t know what to say to that. He’d seen so many marriages disintegrate because the two people simply weren’t on the same page. Especially guys on the circuit—rodeo life was damn hard on marriages, due to the extensive travel involved, the high stress of competition, the risk of significant injuries, and the constant time away from family. 

Author Bio:

Nan Reinhardt is a USA Today bestselling author of sweet, small-town romantic fiction for Tule Publishing. Her day job is working as a freelance copyeditor and proofreader, however, writing is Nan’s first and most enduring passion. She can’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t writing—she wrote her first romance novel at the age of ten and is still writing, but now from the viewpoint of a wiser, slightly rumpled, woman in her prime. Nan lives in the Midwest with her husband of 52 years, where they split their time between a house in the city and a cottage on a lake. 

Social Media Links: 

http://nanreinhardt.com/ 

https://www.facebook.com/authornanreinhardt 

https://www.instagram.com/nanreinhardt/ 

https://www.threads.net/@nanreinhardt 

https://bsky.app/profile/nanreinhardt.bsky.social 

 

 

Food in 1880s Texas by Caroline Clemmons

 

Growing up, the prevailing opinions about food prior to the first World War was that it was badly prepared, didn't taste very good, and came with a free side of food poisoning much of the time. Some of that was the conceit of people trying to map current tastes in food onto a different culture.  Some of it was well-founded, depending on where in North America you lived and how much money you had.

People didn't understand that disposing of waste near water sources, even groundwater such as a well, caused diseases such as cholera, typhoid fever, dysentery, and other waterborne diseases.  The lack of refrigeration made meat a major contributor to the problem. Food preservation techniques could allow harmful bacteria to grow in even canned meat and produce if the cook made a mistake preserving the food.

Most Texans, the ones I write about, ate for fuel rather than taste.  Meat was served at almost every meal.  Breakfast would be some sort of meat, usually pork, eggs, if the cook had access to them, cornbread, coffee, and milk.  Dinner, the noonday meal, was usually the largest, featuring boiled or roasted meats sweetened with molasses or honey, vegetables when available, soup, beans, and more cornbread. Supper often consisted of leftovers from dinner.

Most families ate primarily pork and corn, with beans, fresh or canned vegetables, any fruit found near the settlers, and coffee.  Wheat flour was a luxury because it could not be grown here.  Corn was served at most meals, including cornbread, tortillas, hominy, and corn dodgers (cornmeal fried in salt pork grease). Boiling the water for coffee killed most water-borne disease-causing organisms, but water used for drinking or cooking could be dangerous.  Ranchers were able to eat more beef, but killing their cattle ate up their profits, so it was done sparingly.

The meat settlers ate most:

• Salt-cured pork - the most common protein, often called "sowbelly" 
• Beef jerky - dried, salted, and much more brittle than modern versions 
• Smoked meats - preserved in specially built smokehouses 
• Wild game when available, including deer, rabbit, and whatever else they could find

I guess their blood pressure would be high with all that salt, but they worked hard and sweated a lot, so they may have needed all the salt.

I am working on a new series, Women Who Helped Shape the West.  I am also working on a cookbook about the foods in my books, with recipes that don't have that side of food poisoning.  

Blessings, 

Caroline

Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay

Rogue Cowboy by Sinclair Jane

 

Rogue Cowboy

Bad Boys of the Rodeo

by Sinclair Jayne

Buy Link

Book Blurb:

She knows he’s wrong. He’s convinced he’s right. He’ll prove it with a kiss that reignites their past. 

Texas Cowboy and former Special Forces soldier Cole Jameson isn’t just in Marietta for the Copper Mountain Rodeo to close a family business deal. He’s there to win the heart of the cowgirl he married in secret before deploying. He wanted to keep her safe and give her time to follow her dreams. But he always intended to return and make their marriage sizzle. 

Horse Trainer Riley Telford always knew her hero, her fantasy Mr. Perfect, and savior would return and politely demand his freedom. She’ll graciously let him go because she can’t be the wife he deserves. Riley’s miles away from the vibrant, adventurous girl he fell in love with during a whirlwind weekend. But Cole’s confidence, relentless charm and soul-searing kisses fill her with a dangerous longing and a desperate hope. 

It was a marriage of convenience, but as the rodeo competition races to the end, can Cole convince Riley their marriage can shine, or will her doubts and fears forever keep them apart? 

Excerpt:

“There’s no us,” Riley hissed. 

“We’re married. That’s a hell of an us,” Cole countered. And he wasn’t skulking away, especially when Riley was holding on to her pain like it was a damn security blankie. 

“We’re not really married,” she insisted, paling. “You only married me because there was a slim chance of a child.”  

She sounded so sure. And Cole had been in protector mode, but after, when he’d had some time and distance, he didn’t regret his decision. Not ever. Would it help to tell her? Unlikely. He felt like he was picking his way to a mine field to find a safe position to set up for a mission. 

“You didn’t want to marry me.” She nodded her head, dashing away her tears and pulling her feet out of the river and crossing her legs. 

“I don’t say or do things I don’t mean.”  

She looked at him like he was crazy. Yeah. Should have kept his mouth shut, but better to pull off all the Band-Aids. They could heal from here.  

“I don’t even have a ring,” she said like that meant something. Maybe it did. 

“You want a ring?” He had one. His mother’s. He’d not known if that would have creeped her out considering, so he’d never picked it up on one of his visits home. 

“No,” she said, her voice leaked frustration. “Because we’re not really married.” 

“We are. That’s why I’m at the rodeo. Courting.” 

“Why now?” She still hadn’t taken a bite of her food, and his sharp gaze noticed she was thinner now than she had been as a teen. Ranching was hard work, but he was beginning to doubt she was taking care of herself. 

Should have come sooner. 

“You were young. In a tough spot. We made choices under pressure. I wanted to give you time to recover and figure out what you wanted from life, and I owed the government another four years that turned into five and then another six months.” 

It had seemed double that. 

“You stayed away from me for almost six years because of logistics?” 

She sounded offended, and that gave him hope. 

“I keep my word, Riley. To my family. To my government. To you.” 

“I’m not not noticing that I was third on that list.” 

He laughed and pushed the last bite of the bagel sandwich into his mouth, savoring the taste. 

“You’re my wife. I suppose I should bump you up to the top of the list.” 

She looked adorable, as if her face couldn’t figure out what to do—go with frustration or humor. 

“I told you not to use that word.” 

“I made a vow.” 

“Shshshsh. Button it. I told you don’t use the M word or the W word and definitely not the V word.” 

Riley looked around wildly as if someone was going to jump out of the bushes and gotcha them but considering how close they were to the downtown and the fairgrounds, it was surprisingly peaceful with the sound of the water and birdsong mixing with the wind through the grasses and trees along the creek that ran on the backside of the courthouse and Crawford Park. In the distance he heard a horse whinny and another answer. 

He could only push her so far so fast. 

“That’s a lot of letters,” he said thoughtfully. “Lotta words to remember to not say. Vow? Married? Wife?” He kept his face expressionless, maybe just a hint of innocence, just to rile her a bit to see that flash of fire. 

“I know you’re trying to get a rise outta me. But I’m serious. Those words are off the list. Forbidden. I mean it. Zip it.” 

She even did a zipper movement across her lips that was adorable, and Cole felt everything in him ease. They were not as far apart as he’d imagined. And she needed him. He hadn’t expected that. He should probably feel bad that he wanted her to need him. He’d never be the most advanced, self-actualized man. But he’d take the narrow opening and bust through. 

“We’re married,” he pushed his point. “Not saying the word doesn’t make it not true.” 

“We’re not really the M word.” She scowled, dipped her feet in the river again, to get the dust off from the rock, and waved her feet in the air, scattering luminescent drops that sparkled in the sun. He took her socks out of her boot, unrolled them. 

“The M word,” he mused. “Muscular. Munching. Marvelous.” 

“You are such a comedian,” she said. “I never saw this side of you before.” 

They’d had so little time. And initially, she’d been off-limits—too young and his Special Forces teammate’s sister. Then she been hurt, and he’d been determined to protect and avenge her and stay out of prison. Not that he’d tell her any of that. 

“My socks.” She held out her hand. 

“Mmmmmm,” he agreed. “More M words. Mandatory. Mountain. Mystify.” He caught both of her feet in one hand. Even her feet were beautiful. Delicate. He took out another bandana from his pocket and dabbed her feet dry while she stared at him with huge eyes. He rolled on one sock and then the other. 

“Mission accomplished.” 

He held out a hand, pleased when she grabbed on, and he pulled them both to standing. 

“Cole,” she said urgently. “You deserve your freedom.” Her voice was choked. “We barely knew each other, and then I screwed it all up.” 

Author Bio:

Sinclair Sawhney is a former journalist and middle school teacher who holds a BA in Political Science and K-8 teaching certificate from the University of California, Irvine and a MS in Education with an emphasis in teaching writing from the University of Washington. She has worked as a developmental editor with Tule Publishing for nearly twelve years. Writing as Sinclair Jayne she’s published thirty plus short contemporary romances with Tule Publishing. Rogue Cowboy is her seventh rodeo cowboy romance set in Montana. Married for over twenty-nine years, she has two adult children, and when she isn’t writing or editing, she and her husband, Deepak, along with their pup Chai are hosting wine tastings of their pinot noir, rose and chardonnay at their vineyard Roshni, which is a Hindi word for light-filled, located in Oregon’s Willamette Valley.

Second Chances by Alana Lorens

Second Chances

by Alana Lorens

Buy Link

Book Blurb:

No one escapes adversity, but everyone deserves a second chance. 

SECOND CHANCES begins the day attorney Inessa Regan receives a pink slip after ten years of faithful service. She’s been a mid-level associate her whole career, partners telling her what to do, providing her with an office and everything she needs. Thrown out into the legal world on her own, she doesn’t know how she’ll survive.  Her neighbor brings her first client, Kurt Lowdon, a young Iraq veteran with cancer, who’s looking just to have a will made. Inessa struggles to give Kurt what he needs, and he helps make it easy for her. 

Once his immediate needs are met, he takes her under his wing and brings her more clients as well as a place to open an office to see them. Things begin to fall together for her, including a very special friendship with Kurt that becomes something more. But his past military service, and the friends he’s made there, begin to cause problems for them both, as well as issues his drug-addicted sister delivers to his doorstep. He still hasn’t kicked his cancer, either, and Inessa wonders if falling in love with him is a blessing or a curse. 

Excerpt:

It really was pink. 

 Inessa Regan stared at the terse document she’d taken from the cream-colored envelope left on her desk. Sounds of the busy office outside her door faded, and blood rushed to her face until it was as florid as the paper in her hand. 

 She leaned against the desk, her breath sucked away. The words blurred through tears she couldn’t control. No matter how polite the language or painfully insincere the partners’ mild apology and explanation, the result was the same. After ten years practicing law with the firm of Venda and Spinelli, Inessa was out. Cold. 

A pink slip. 

 That burned her the most, took that punch in the gut and twisted the fist deep. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to find a piece of paper that shade of rose in an office with sophisticated navy-on-cream stationery. Intentional, then. 

 Bet it was the young blonde bimbo Franco Venda hired. Inessa was sure old Franco’s wife hadn’t approved that girl. Back when Inessa, a nondescript brunette with thick thighs,  interviewed, the wife had chosen her as “non-threatening.” That’s me—proud winner of the Least Likely to Appeal to Anyone contest. 

 She’d started as a summer intern, although no spring chicken. Thirty-two years old, just out of law school, no husband, no children, no agenda other than paying back the obscene amount of money she’d borrowed to finish. She was grateful for the opportunity, worked long, hard hours, and would have stayed in the old brick building till she died. 

 Apparently, someone had a different idea. 

Author Bio:

Alana Lorens (aka Barbara Mountjoy) has been a published writer for over 45 years, including seven years as a reporter/editor at the South Dade News Leader in Homestead, Florida, after working as a server, a pizza maker, and a floral designer. She writes non-fiction, romance, adventure, and suspense novels.  

She is the author of the Pittsburgh Lady Lawyers series, which draws on her years as a family law attorney in the state of Pennsylvania. One of the causes close to her heart came from those years as well–the fight against domestic violence. She volunteered for many years at women’s shelters and provided free legal services to women and children in need.  

Alana resides in North Carolina, and she loves her time in the smoky blue mountains. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, and she is ruled by three crotchety old cats, and six kittens of various ages. 

Author Links: 

Website http://Alana-lorens.com 

Facebook    https://www.facebook.com/AlanaLorens/ 

Goodreads   https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4829967.Alana_Lorens 

Amazon Author Page  https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1 

Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEMtSxd6FQQ 

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alana-lorens 

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/alanalorens.bsky.social 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexander_lyndi/ 

 

BRING ON THE BRIDES!

 By Caroline Clemmons

The bachelors of Tarnation, Texas threaten to leave unless marriageable women come to town. Wealthy widow Lydia Harrison and her friend Sophia Gaston travel to Richmond, Virginia, where Lydia was raised. Lydia interviews young women who respond to her newspaper notice, but not everyone is accepted. Seven girls travel to Tarnation and live with Lydia until they find a husband. Lydia hosts receptions, dances, and dinners so the women can meet the sixteen bachelors she has invited to participate.

Each story in the Bride Brigade Series stands alone but is more fun if read in order. They are avaible in e-book and paperback. The books are enrolled in Kindle Unlimited.Most of the characters get at least a mention in the other books.

 

Here is the summary of Book One, JOSEPHINE:

Josephine Nailor has good reasons not to trust men, especially those who hold an office. She isn’t even certain she wants to marry, but takes a job assisting the owner of the mercantile, Michael Buchanan. He, on the other hand, is happy owning the store and being mayor. All he needs now is a wife.

 

https://amzn.to/46puLWk

 

Here’s an exciting excerpt:

She was exhausted by the approach of closing time. Gunfire cracked and she heard galloping hooves.

Michael reached under the counter for a gun. “Get into the backroom until this is over so you won’t get hit by stray bullets.” He raced out the door and down the boardwalk.

Mrs. Horowitz, wife of the butcher, stepped away from the windows where she’d been admiring a display. “Those awful cowboys have no care for the town’s residents. They must be drunk to act so carelessly.”

“I expect you’re right. If they were intent on robbing the bank, surely they’d come in quietly to evade notice. You can step through the curtain behind you, and you’ll be in the storeroom. There’s a chair you can rest in until those men are stopped.”

Disobeying her employer’s order, Josephine stood at the side of the window so she was protected by the wall but could look out. The sheriff, his deputy, Michael, and a handful of other men with guns drawn tried to apprehend the rowdy cowboys. One of the ruffians darted toward the store.

Dear Merciful Heaven! Terror struck her and her knees almost gave way. The man who’d attacked her had returned with his friends. Was he after her or bent on destroying Tarnation?

Unable to turn away, she watched the man make his way slowly toward the mercantile. This time she was prepared. She raced to grab a skillet intent on cracking the man’s skull if he came into the store.

Mrs. Horowitz peeked through the curtains. “Miss Nailor, come in here with me. You can’t fight guns with a pan.”

“The man who attacked me is headed this way. I’ll dent his head if he comes into the mercantile.”

The other woman inched closer. “Do you see my Claus? Oh, I hope he’s not trying to outgun those men.”

“Besides Mr. Buchanan, the sheriff, his deputy, Mr. Kendrick, and Mr. Evans are there.  Mr. Pettigrew also appeared. Oh, no, Tom Boyd is weaving down the road as if nothing is happening.”

“My, my, he’s no doubt so drunk he doesn’t know anything is going on.”

“Run back into the storeroom, Mrs. Horowitz. That man is almost here. He’s likely to shoot you if he sees you when he comes through the door.”

Aleida Horowitz scrambled toward the curtain. “What about you?”

“He won’t see me until too late. Hurry!” Josephine flattened herself against the wall behind the door.

No sooner had the woman slipped through the curtain than the cowboy rushed toward the counter as if he expected her to be crouched behind the island’s safety. As soon as he was inside, she swung the heavy iron skillet with all her might.

He dropped but not before she heard a burst of gunfire outside. She turned and saw Michael slump in the street’s dust. As her heart dropped to the floor, she screamed, “No!”

 

This is the series order: JOSEPHINE, ANGELINE, CASSANDRA, OPHELIA, RACHEL, LORRAINE, and PRUDENCE.

 

 

Red Shadows at Saugatuck: A Haunted Shores Mystery by Randy Overbeck

Red Shadows at Saugatuck: A Haunted Shores Mystery

by Randy Overbeck

Buy Link

Blurb:

Darrell Henshaw hoped he was past it all. After all, no ghosts had visited him for years. Instead, he learns his five-year-old-son, Leo has inherited his “gift.”  

Now, they both can see ghosts. 

Upon his parents’ insistence, Darrell agrees to drive his young family 800 miles to celebrate his Aunt Gertrude’s 80th birthday. But, once in the resort  town of Saugatuck, Michigan, their participation gets derailed by the spirit of a Native teen who went missing weeks earlier. When he and Leo inquire about the girl, the locals dismiss their concerns—"Those girls run away all the time.”  Still, as questions pile up and threats grow, Darrell senses they may have stumbled onto something far worse and even more evil than one missing teen.  

Can Darrell continue to pursue justice for the girl if it places his wife and five-year-old son in danger? 

Excerpt:

Darrell chanced another look in the rearview and saw the SUV accelerating, closing the distance. Darrell stared, fixated on the wide silver grill growing larger in his mirror. Alternating glances from the road ahead to the car behind, he watched it move closer, now less than a car length. He stared at the shield, could make out its colors of silver, gold, black and red. He checked out the road ahead then shot another look at the Cadillac emblem. In the center of the shield, he saw a small nick, like a stone from the road had chipped it. His gaze returned to the asphalt ahead of him. 

He punched the accelerator and felt his Taurus respond. When the distance between the cars opened up a bit, he checked the speedometer. The needle moved past eighty. The scenery flew by. He didn’t think he could keep this up for long. At least, the road was straight…for now. 

He sensed more than saw movement behind him and yanked his gaze back to the rearview mirror. The SUV accelerated even more and drew still closer, the black frame and tinted windshield filling his mirror. Darrell’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. The car came so close, the grill with the shield disappeared from his view. The darkened windshield was all Darrell could see through his mirror.  

God, he must be within a foot. He’s going to ram me. 

He floored the gas pedal and the engine whined in protest. The needle passed eighty-five. He wanted to turn his head and look back through the rear window but couldn’t chance it. Not at this speed. He had to stay focused on the road ahead. His Taurus raced along the blacktop.  

Then it started. First, a few thunks on the roof and, within seconds, the sky opened up, the rain cascading in sheets. He flipped the wipers on high and stared through the windshield at the rain-slicked asphalt. Damn, what else can go wrong? Driving like this in the rain was major- league stupid. 

He needed to slow down in the downpour but couldn’t. He feared if he slowed, even a little, the larger SUV would slam into him and probably run him off the road. He chanced another glance in the rearview and saw…nothing. All he could see looking back was the torrential rain slicing down onto the blacktop.  

Where had the Cadillac gone? Could he have turned off when the rain hit and Darrell hadn’t noticed? He didn’t think so but where was the car? He stared ahead and then shot another glance in the mirror. Nothing. 

Then, he caught some movement in his peripheral vision. The Cadillac SUV had slid over into the oncoming lane. He was passing the Taurus on the left. He must’ve disappeared into Darrell’s blind spot before pulling even with the Taurus. Darrell stared from the SUV beside him to the road ahead. As far as he could tell, both lanes seemed empty of traffic, but the rain reduced how far he could see. 

He shot a glance to his side. The Cadillac had pulled up, almost even with his car. He peered across but could make out nothing but the damn dark tinted glass. He jerked his gaze back to the road. What was this idiot going to do? Pass him and make him skid on the wet road? He risked a glance in the rearview to see if there was a second car, to block him in. Nothing. 

The SUV inched forward, both cars hurtling at almost ninety! This was crazy. No, this was suicide. He should brake and slow down, let the Cadillac whiz by him. But he feared what might happen in the rain. He could hydroplane, lose traction and skid.  

He had no time to consider any options.  

Right then, the SUV surged forward and steered hard to the right, angling in front of him, cutting off the Taurus. Darrell had no choice. He stepped on his brake so as not to hit the Cadillac. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the SUV whiz into his lane right in front of him. He yanked the wheel to the right, swerving to avoid hitting the other car. His tires slipped on the rain-slicked asphalt. He tried to control the steering wheel but felt the car skid onto the narrow shoulder. He slammed on the brakes as hard as he could and watched the car go over the edge of the shoulder. His heart raced. He practically stood on the brake. The car bumped over the shoulder. It bounced down into a ditch and partway up. The Taurus jerked to a stop, slamming his head into the steering wheel.  

Everything went dark. 

Author Bio:

Dr. Randy Overbeck is an award-winning educator, author, speaker and podcaster. As an educator, he served children for more than three decades and has mined that experience to create captivating fiction, authoring two series, the bestselling series, “The Haunted Shores Mysteries,” and the award-winning series, “Lessons in Peril.” His novels have won critical acclaim and garnered national awards including Mystery of the Year (ReaderViews) Best Book Award (Chanticleer Books and Reviews) and the Gold Award (Literary Titan) and amassed hundreds of 5-star reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. Dr. Overbeck also hosts the popular podcast, “Great Stories about Great Storytellers,” which reveals the unusual and sometimes strange backstories of famous authors, directors and poets and can be heard wherever listeners get their podcasts. He is a speaker in considerable demand, sharing his popular presentations about ghosts and the world of book publishing with hundreds of audiences all over the U.S.  

As a member of the Mystery Writers of America, Dr. Overbeck is an active member of the literary community, contributing to a writers’ critique group, serving as a mentor to emerging writers and participating in writing conferences such as Killer Nashville and the Midwest Writers Workshop. 

When he’s not researching, writing, speaking or podcasting, Randy enjoys traveling with his wife Cathy and visiting both his far-flung family and the scenic locations around this country, often in search of inspiration for his next great story. 

 

More info about his novels, programs and podcast can be found at his website www.authorrandyoverbeck.com  

randyoverbeck@authorrandyoverbeck.com 

SOCIAL MEDIA CONTACTS 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorrandyoverbeck 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/OverbeckRandy/media 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorrandyoverbeck/ 

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/randy-overbeck 

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Randy-Overbeck/e/B07QQHW7DM 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4825632.Randy_Overbeck 

 

A New Kind of Hope: A Dickens Holiday Romance by Liz Flaherty

A New Kind of Hope

A Dickens Holiday Romance

by Liz Flaherty

Buy Links:Amazon: https://a.co/d/2DiAbVy

 Everywhere else: https://books2read.com/u/bogDg0

I remember … well, I’m old, I remember almost everything, but only in bits and pieces and only in ways that give me joy. I’ve written enough books and stories that I don’t remember some of very well (or at all), but more about that in a minute.

What I was going to say I remembered was when Harlequin and Silhouette started releasing holiday books. I’m sure the other publishers did, too, but H/S was what I normally read because those books cost less and I loved them. Then I started reading all the holiday collections—the Regencies were my favorite, because Carla Kelly and Mary Balogh always had stories in them. I still remember some of those stories; I still reread ones I have copies of.

I’ve written several holiday stories myself, but there was one I’d forgotten about. See? Told you I did that. The first year the Dickens Holiday Romances were released, I wrote a story for it. Wisdom of the Heart was Fee and Jed’s story, but I couldn’t quite recall what it was about.  

So I read it. And I liked it. I’d thought of writing a new one this year, but I didn’t get it done. Maybe I could … 

I did. I changed its title, because I didn’t think it fit very well, and Nancy Fraser made me a new cover I just loved, and I changed a little here and there, and now … this very day … A New Kind of Hope is released as an ebook on its own.  

About A New Kind of Hope 

They were best friends who fell in love, but that was high school. Life and families and other loves had happened since that dear and distant time. They’re friends again, comfortable with each other and having so much fun at Christmas time in Dickens. They’re not still in love, but…wait…could it be happening again? 

Excerpt: 

Jed got up, going over to where she stood and taking her into his arms. For a moment, he just held her, giving all of her curves time to adjust to his planes and angles. Then he kissed her, taking his time about it, thinking … no, not thinking at all. Just feeling. It had been so long since he’d held a woman he lo … he cared about. Too long, Heather would say, but she’d know, too, what he’d been waiting for.  

“You were my best and last love,” she’d told him once during her illness, holding his hand in her thin one and laying her fingers up against his. “I’m not going to be yours. I’m good with that.” 

It should have felt wrong to let go of one love while holding another, but it didn’t. For the first time since Heather’s death, Jed gave credence to the thought that he might someday be happy again. Not yet, but someday. 

“The tree-lighting at the Common is Saturday night,” he said. “Want to go with me?” 

She nodded. “Most of the stores are opening back up afterward. A couple of the Klatchers are going to open Silver Threads after the lighting and man the cutting table. Ailey and I had planned to go.” She smiled, but there was an extra shine in her eyes. “Maybe you should kiss me again.” 

“Maybe I should.”  

Author Bio :

Liz Flaherty wanted to shake off the dust of central Indiana farm country and move to the city, get rich, wear designer clothes, and write books. 

Well, she writes books.  

She lives five miles from where she grew up, only now she relishes the sights and sounds and scents of the fields around her, doesn’t care much about clothes, and thinks being rich would probably have been overrated anyway.  She’s spent the past several years enjoying not working a day job, making terrible crafts, and writing stories in which the people aren’t young, brilliant, or even beautiful. She’s decided (and has to re-decide nearly every day) that the definition of success is having a good time. Along with her husband of lo, these many years, kids, grands, friends, and the occasional cat, she’s doing just that. 

You can find her all over the place, but this is easiest:  https://linktr.ee/LizFlaherty She’d love to hear from you! 

 

THE PASSING SEASONS

 by Caroline Clemmons

Welcome Fall! Our weather is a little cooler. Several types of trees are getting Falll colors that show well among the dark green live oaks. I am  aware our Fall display in North Central Texas is nothing compared to New England. But this is where I live, and I'm enjoying my community.

Many people love summer’s heat, lying in the sun and getting a tan, participating in or watching summer sports, and just having sunny days. Perhaps I'm eccentric, but I'm so much more comfortable in cooler weather. Spring and Fall are mu favorites.

 As a child, I enjoyed things like climbing trees and softball in our neighborhood, but that's about the limit of my athletic acytivity. Usually, I was indoors reading comic books or playing with my paper dolls or writing little stories about a princess rescued by a dashing knight. The stories didn't vary much and didn't have many obstacles. Comic books gave way to Nancy Drew and paper dolls to riding my bike.

Now I love taking drives in the Fall and seeing all the trees and hedges changing color. With our recent rains, the grass is still green, which makes it even more attractive. My youngest daughter and I make great plans about what we're going to do to the yard. But not now—next spring.

I look forward to reading, writing, and watching movies on TV. The stories I write don’t feature a princess (with one exception), but are about  strong women ready to assist the valiant hero defeat the villain. Hmm, maybe they haven’t changed as much since I was a young girl as I’d thought.

My two precious daughters and I are slowly recovering from my dear husban’s recent death---although I don’t suppose anyone ever actually recovers from the death of a loved one. Some days are better than others, of course. I'm sure many of you have gone through the same thing. At least  I am feeling more positive and cheerful.

As the passing seasons are a part of life, so are the passings of our loved ones. It's all part of some great plan we don't understand, but we must have faith things are under control by the Almighty.

 

Railroad Ties: The Marmion Grove Murders by M.S. Spencer

Railroad Ties:  The Marmion Grove Murders

by M.S. Spencer

A Cozy Mystery

Buy Link

Book Blurb:

When Sophie Childress discovers a letter written in 1920 by the witness to a murder, she enlists Noah Pennyman—owner of the house where it took place—to investigate. Who was the victim? What did the killer do with the body—not to mention a carpetbag full of money? Together they expose a complex web of family ties and lies that has persisted through four generations in the historic village of Marmion Grove. When two more corpses are unearthed, Noah and Sophie are faced with too many victims and not enough murderers.

Excerpt:

The men shuffled their feet. Finally, Fred said, “Look here, we have probable cause to consider this a crime scene. Murray, get Captain Hinckley on the horn—see if we need a warrant. If he thinks the mayor should be informed, he can contact him.” Murray returned after a minute, clicking his phone off. “He says we don’t require a search warrant since it’s on public property, but to get permission from the mayor to be on the safe side. If we find anything, we’re to secure the scene.” There was a moment of uncertainty. The dog walkers closed in. “Hey, Peggy, what’s going on?” “Never you mind, Matthew Crockett. You neither, Angela.” They sauntered by, casting inquiring looks. Noah turned to Mrs. Dane. “We could use another shovel. Do you have an extra?” “Certainly. I’ll get it.” “And maybe a tarp to hold the plants and soil.” “I’ll help you.” Sophie followed Peggy around the back of the building. Peggy unlocked a shed and drew out a long-handled spade and a folded tarp. Sophie asked tentatively, “Do you think they’ll find anything?” Peggy chortled. “You’d be astounded how many bodies are buried in a small town. This wouldn’t be the first.” Bodies. “Um, Mrs. Dane? Oscar said you and he were old friends. That’s why you called him. Has he…has he told you anything he’s not telling us?” Peggy’s response was sudden and dramatic. She flushed as pink as her bathrobe and stood stock still. Eyes glittering, she snapped, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sophie plunged on. “I noticed you two exchanging…um…signals.” The older woman fingered the top button of her robe nervously. “This can’t go beyond these walls.” Sophie refrained from pointing out they were outdoors. “I understand.” Peggy’s voice dropped. “Oscar and I… We are… We were…” Sophie saw the light. “You two are—” She cut her off. “That’s all you need to know.” “So Oscar didn’t just happen to be in the neighborhood.” “No.” Peggy’s color gradually returned to normal. “Here, take this tarp, and I’ll bring the spade.” When they returned, Noah and Ian had their jackets off. “George says go for it.” Oscar lurched forward. “No!” Kendrick held him back. “It’s for the best, Dad. We’ve kept the secret long enough.” The policeman looked at them in consternation. “Secret?” “A family tragedy.” Sophie wondered if they were going to come up with yet another whopper. This family is the slickest bunch of dissemblers I’ve ever seen. Aside from Harry, that is. Noah and Ian set to, Noah on the south side and Ian on the north. “Let’s hope it’s not under the shelter itself.” The mound of dirt on the tarp rose higher and higher. The sun was reaching its zenith when Ian’s spade struck something. “Help me here, Noah.” They scrabbled in the dirt. “Wait—stop! It looks like a hand.” Peggy turned her face away. The others looked on. “Be careful! That’s the arm bone. Oh, and a leg. Is that a hat?” Murray got a whisk broom from his patrol car. “Brush away the soil from its head. Be careful!” Noah did so. They stood back. “Huh.” “Huh.” The skeleton that lay exposed still wore the tattered remains of denim overalls. A ball cap covered its skull. “Pretty sure it’s a male.” Ian said, “He’s not dressed like a businessman. Can’t be Filou.” Kendrick contemplated the figure. “Blue collar. Laborer.” “Wait, there’s a patch on his shirt.” Murray bent down. It says ‘B&O.’ He must have worked for the railroad.” “But who the hell is he?”

Author Bio:

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. She has published eighteen mystery or romantic suspense novels. She has two children, an exuberant granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

 

GATHERING THE FACTS

 By Caroline Clemmons

An author friend and I were talking recently about starting a new book or series. It's always an exciting time, but there are many factors that go into laying the background for a series. For instance, in my recent book SHAD, for the Guns For Hire series, I deliberated where to have the action happen. Back in the Depression (the big one), my father-in-law as a young man worked for the Civilian Conservation Corps, the CCC. This was about the time of the Works Progress Administration, the WPA. My father-in-law felt lucky to be assigned to a work crew up in the northern New Mexico forest. He had photos that showed how pretty it was there. The pictures were black and white, but you could visualize the beauty.

A friend had a cabin at Questa. She talked about how much she loved the area. She would sit on her front porch and watch the wildlife. She even saw a bear go by, but it didn't bother her, fortunately. Her description sold me on that location. I got off the beaten path and started checking locations that would work,  chose the area, then made up the town.

 You see, if I used a small town that was real, I'd have to be careful to put in the right streets, the right buildings, and so forth. If I make up the town, I can place the buildings I want just the way I need them. So, that's what I usually do for my books—with a few exceptions, such as Santa Fe and San Antonio. It's fun to create a new community.

I have been to northern New Mexico, but not the exact place where I said in the book. I've been to Taos. As I mentioned, one of my friends has a cabin at Questa, a town I used in SHAD. I looked online to see what features it had. (The internet is such a blessing for research.) I was surprised to find Questa has a walled downtown that sounded interesting. But I didn't want my main set there. I made up the town of Ben Rock. I visualized a large rock shaped like a flat bench, sort of hanging on the side of a mountain over this town, like a bench for a giant.

 Next, I had to learn the type of ranching and farming, or whatever was going on in that area. Goats as well as cattle stock the ranches. Another aspect I must consider is the weather—the temperatures, the rainfall, when the first snow falls, and when the last snow falls. Frequently, I use weather in my books as I did in SHAD. You might think I do too much research, but having actual things correct in my fictional stories is very important to me.

 You can see that there's often a lot of research before authors begin writing, and more popping up while they’re immersed in the world they’re creating.

 Thanks for stopping by. Stay safe and keep reading.

The Marriage Matrix by Joan Esser

The Marriage Matrix

by Joan Esser

Buy Link

Book Blurb:

  Treating her search for a husband as a research project, socially inept Dr. Wanda Walling creates a marriage matrix listing the qualities she wants in a husband. All candidates will be evaluated by how many boxes are ticked off. Then Wanda meets handsome Detective Jack Pendleton, who excites and delights her, but doesn't meet any of her requirements, and he has a phobia about marriage.

  Jack is enthralled by Wanda and wants her any way he can get her. Even though he is appalled that she is hubby hunting, he still wants to bed her. Can he convince her to have a fling with him when he doesn't check off any boxes in the matrix? Will Wanda be diverted from her goal by a sexy detective?

Excerpt:

 Once they were seated at the opera, Wanda's awareness of the man next to her kept her attention off the opera. Though the music was good and the new tenor was superb, every whiff of his lime-scented aftershave sent her heartbeat speeding. Mentally giving herself a shake, she reminded herself that she was looking for a husband and he was definitely not a candidate. He had made that abundantly clear. Yet, she was here next to him, jumpy with nerves. What was the matter with her?

  When the standing ovations quieted down and the performers took their final bow, Jack asked, "Would you like to stop for a bite to eat? I'm certainly hungry."

  Her mind said, "No, no," but her head nodded, "Yes, yes."

Author Bio:

Ever since she learned to read, Joan has been fascinated by books and their ability to take her to a different time and place. Reading ignited her imagination and made her want to share her stories with others to enjoy. A New York native, she currently lives in Florida.

 

The Matchmaker's Mare by Hywela Lyn

The Matchmaker's Mare

by Hywela Lyn

Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Matchmakers-Mare-Hywela-Lyn-ebook/dp/B0DYF6L15C 

Amazon US  https://www.amazon.com/Matchmakers-Mare-Hywela-Lyn-ebook/dp/B0DYF6L15C 

Book Blurb:

When Megan Johnson inherits an old cottage in the Welsh countryside, she seizes the opportunity to cut ties with her past life, after a broken romance. Her nearest neighbour, a horse trainer, is also something of an enigma. Single dad Glyn Phillips does his best to balance his love of horses and hard work, with his devotion to his son. When he meets his new neighbour, he knows he should resist any attraction. A feisty pony mare which mysteriously appears on his land adds to his problems, but another, larger problem lies ahead. Two matchmaking spirits find their carefully laid plans may not go as smoothly as they hope. 

Excerpt:

Perhaps now she would be able to put the past behind her and instead look forward to the new possibilities this inheritance had given her. She smiled. No more business suits and severe hairstyles. No more working in a stuffy office at a monotonous, if well-paid, job. No more paying an extortionate rent for a small London flat—and no more trying to please Richard. From now on she intended to be totally independent, needing to please no-one but herself.   

A faint scent of lavender drifted toward her on the warm, silky breeze. She sniffed appreciatively. It seemed a bit early for lavender, but she would have to check out the back garden once she settled in. There must be lavender bushes at the back of the cottage since she couldn’t see any in the rather overgrown and neglected front garden.   

She inserted the key in the door and paused. Something like the tinkle of little bells sounded close by. She looked up to see if anything in the trees could account for the sound. It might be garden chimes, but her great uncle had not been the type to have such ‘fripperies’ as he would have called them. She didn’t think there were any other houses close enough for the sound to carry. She must be imagining things.  

Megan took a deep breath and stepped into the cottage. A new home, a new job and a new beginning: A chance to put behind her the traumas of the last twelve months and start afresh.   

Author Bio:

Hywela Lyn was born and raised in Wales, whose beautiful landscapes, myths and legends inspired her to write. A horse and dog lover, she weaves romantic futuristic adventures, and fantasy romances set in Wales, past and present.  

Beloved Enemy, the third book in her Destiny Trilogy, was shortlisted in the Paranormal category of the prestigious Romantic Novelists Association RoNA awards and was a Runner up in the RONE Award. Her latest release is a ‘feel-good’ ‘sweet’ romance, incorporating a little mystery, a feisty stray mare – and not forgetting two rather playful but well-meaning spirits. 

Her penname, Hywela Lyn is a combination of her first two names. (She has always been known by her second name 'Lyn' and thought it was time her Welsh first name was used as well.) When not writing or reading, she can usually be found outdoors with horses or her little ‘rescue’ dog - or just eating chocolate!