PIMPERNEL IS A ROMANTIC SUSPENSE WITH HUMOR

Pimpernel by Sheralyn Pratt


They seek him here; they seek him there. For centuries, the elite of the world have sought the Pimpernel everywhere. Some want to kill him, others want to hire him, but Jack Cavanaugh knows that the love/hate relationship comes with the job title.

At present, Jack is trying to dismantle an investment scheme centered in Las Vegas, but "trying" is the operative word. It's been a month since he put the face of the scheme behind bars, yet the scam is still going strong. As Jack tries to uncover who has stepped in as the new head, what miniscule evidence there is all seems to point him back to Claire Ramsey, an introverted PhD student studying at UNLV.

If ever there as an unlikely head of a investment scheme, Claire's it. She has a genius IQ, but from all Jack has seen, Claire’s intelligence is as much a blessing as a curse when paired up with her acute OCD. Claire can barely make conversation with the cute guy down the hall, which makes it hard to believe she could be the charismatic salesperson who is getting international businessmen to invest $5—50 million a pop.

So what is Jack missing? What is the real story behind Claire Ramsey? And once Jack learns it, will he be able to walk away?

PIMPERNEL Excerpt

The high-pitched scream from the other side of her apartment door shattered Claire’s thoughts.

“Daniel?” That shriek had been way too high to come out of a man.

“Help!” Daniel’s voice cried out from the other side of the door.

Claire unlocked the door and pushed it open, finding Daniel cowering on the couch in sailor-themed boxer briefs. Classical music played from his bedroom, indicating Daniel had been sewing before he ended up on the couch. On the ground between them lay the lounge robe Daniel had made in his fashion design class along with his house slippers. They looked like they’d been flung at random.

“Move!” he shrieked at her, stabbing his finger at the ground like a mad man. “Take the high ground and leave the door open. Maybe it will go back to the gates of hell, where it belongs!”

Claire followed the direction of his manic gesturing, freezing when her eyes locked on something the size of her fist with eight hairy legs. “Daniel? Please tell me that is a toy.”

“That. Is. NOT. A. Toy!”

The spider chose that moment to make its move—which happened to be sprinting her way.

Claire shrieked as Daniel motioned for her to join him on the couch. “High ground!”

Was he insane? She would have to leap over the tarantula to get to him. Why in the world would she do that when she could just run away and go to a hotel for the night?

“Voldemort?” a man’s voice said from behind her a split second before Claire backed into a male body blocking her retreat. Not only did Claire scream, but her body was suddenly possessed by an Olympic hurdler as she scampered across the living room and flung herself into Daniel’s arms on the couch.

“You found her!” a flagpole of a man from the doorway said as Claire latched onto Daniel, hiding her face against his shoulder. If she didn’t see the spider, maybe it would cease to exist.

“Found it?” Daniel scoffed. “That thing tried to duel me for my sandwich before I batted him off my kitchen table.”

Claire shuttered, only vaguely realizing that the shoulder she was hiding her face in was bare. I’ve never hugged a guy who was only wearing underwear before, she thought a moment before Daniel pulled her keys out of her hand and flung them at the ground to join his slippers and robe.

“Don’t chase it this way!” Daniel yelled at the other guy.

“Come on, Voldemort,” the spider guy cooed. “Let’s get you back into your habitat—Don’t run!”

Wait, it was running? Claire didn’t want to see that, yet something compelled her to turn and look anyway.

People always said that horrible things seemed to happen in slow motion, but Claire could have sworn the giant arachnid was coming at her in fast-forward mode. In a heartbeat, she had climbed up to ride piggyback on Daniel while he responded by flapping his hands in panic as if he could fan the thing away with a light breeze.

Not only did the spider keep running, it was sprinting like an arachnid with a plan—heading straight for the couch. When Daniel backed away, Claire felt her back thump into the wall. Before he could move again, she pushed off his back to stand on the back of the couch, dropping her purse when it threatened her balance. On the way down, it ended up in Daniel’s hands and he wasted no time finding items inside and tossing them at the spider while its owner moved in to act like a human shield.

“No!” the tall guy cried as he tried to corral the beast. “Don’t throw things at her. You might hurt her.”

Just then, Claire’s favorite lip gloss bounced off the hairy spider, stunning it.

That lip gloss was dead to her—not just the tube, the actual brand. She’d never be able to look at it the same again.

Author Sheralyn Pratt

Some describe Sheralyn as a girl who's been around the block and worked at every shop. This isn't far from the truth. Writing is what she loves most, however. There's a magical power in stepping into new perspectives time and again, and seeing the world through different eyes. Few things increase empathy more than walking in another's shoes for 100,000 words or so. At least that seems to be the trend so far.

Some random things to know about Sheralyn:
* She's a wanderer (geographically)
* She can write a novel, but doesn't have the attention span for one page in a journal
* She vehemently disagrees with Stephen King's stance that authors should not watch TV
* She is pretty much incapable of sleeping before midnight

Website * Twitter * Facebook

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ISAAC: LETTERS OF FATE--NEW RELEASE BY PATY JAGER

By Paty Jager, Guest Author

My latest historical western romance series is titled, Letters of Fate. This is a series that is linked by the hero receiving a letter that changes his life and brings him to the woman who captures his heart.

Isaac is the second book in the series. When I was approached by Debra Holland to write a book for her new Kindle World Project which allows authors to write a story in her world of Sweetwater Springs and Morgan’s Crossing, Montana, I decided it was a good way to springboard my new series.

I read her book, Prudence, which, was the first book she set in Morgan’s Crossing. Mine guards were mentioned. I asked Debra if I could use one of the mine guards as my hero. She said yes, and I was off discovering what would bring a woman to a mining town that had only ten women, two of which worked at the saloon. The town was crude and had few amenities. I decided she was coming because her father died without telling her where to find a gold mine he’d talked about in letters. The heroine started taking care of her ailing mother at a young age. After her mother’s death her father left and at the age of seventeen she took care of her three siblings. The letter Isaac sends her about their father’s death is her wings to freedom. She leaves the farm in her brother’s hands and heads to Montana to find the gold mine her father talked about and gain her financial freedom from family and hard work.

Isaac doesn’t want anything to do with her, making for a lot of butting head’s when she arrives in Sweetwater Springs.

Isaac: Letters of Fate

Historical western filled with steamy romance and the rawness of a growing country.

Alamayda Wagner’s life has left her cynical, but also vigilant, and that’s what propels her to Morgan’s Crossing, Montana in order to uncover the secrets her father took to his grave. She quickly discovers her only hope includes trusting Isaac Corum. That soon proves to be expensive, and not just financially.

The last thing Isaac Corum needs or wants is a snooty woman telling him he didn’t do enough to save her father, which is what her letter implied. He’d helped the man more than most people would have, and swears he won’t go out of his way like that again. He’ll meet her at the Sweetwater Springs train station, deliver her father’s belongings, and send her back the way she came.

But, dang it all, the woman doesn’t do a single blasted thing she’s told, and Isaac can’t just sit back and let her go traipsing off into the mountains alone…

Excerpt:

Isaac stopped the horses at the hitching post in front of the church. After climbing down, he grabbed the box of Alan’s belongings and marched up to the little house next to the church. For a brief moment, he had the notion to just leave the box with a note. But his conscience wouldn’t let him do that. He’d been the last person to speak with her father before his death. It seemed sociable he should talk to her.

He knocked on the door.

A pleasant-looking man, not much older than Isaac answered the door. “Good evening. May I help you?”

“I’d like to see Miss Wagner,” he said.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you Mr. Corum?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“We just sat down for the evening meal. Would you care to join us?” The reverend asked.

 Isaac didn’t want to sit through dinner with the woman. “I’d prefer if you asked her to come out here. It won’t take long.” He’d noted the chairs on the porch. “We can sit there,” he said, walking over to one of the chairs and placing the box on the porch beside a chair.

“I’ll get Miss Wagner.” The reverend disappeared into the house.

A minute later, a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair pulled back in a severe bun, stepped out and scanned the porch.

Isaac stood, pulling his hat off his head as the woman walked toward him. He’d been wrong about her being big-boned and horse-faced. She was tall, but thin. The dark blue dress she wore hung straight from her shoulders to her feet with no curves in between. Not even a bump where her bosoms should be. Her long, thin face had a pointed chin and small, pointed nose. Her large, wide eyes were brown. She held out a thin, long hand.

“Mr. Corum?” she asked.

He gripped her hand gently for fear of breaking the thin bones. “Miss Wagner.”

She pulled her hand back and stared down at the box on the floor. “What’s this?” she asked.

“I brought your pa’s things to you. This way you can rest a day or so and head back home.” He said it with the enthusiasm he had for getting her back to Kansas and out of his way.

Alamayda stared at the box, then up at Mr. Corum. She usually looked down on most men. Mr. Corum, she had to tip her head just a bit to see into his gray eyes. He had several days of whisker growth on his face. His eyes were wide set with wrinkles at the corners. His nose long but not wide. A full bottom lip made his upper lip appear thinner. His square chin gave the appearance of a man who didn’t back down. His shoulders were wider than his narrow hips hidden beneath a long canvas duster. His hand when he’d clutched hers was wide with long fingers.

She had expected him to be closer to her father’s age and not her own. “Thank you for bringing me his things.” She sat in the chair closest to the box.

Mr. Corum remained standing. “Ma’am, I just wanted to let you know there was nothing that could be done for your father. The doc made sure he was as comfortable as could be until the end.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

Alamayda was about to say something when he opened his eyes and peered at her.

“It was nice meeting you. I can’t afford to miss too much work. I’ll be headed back to Morgan’s Crossing now.”

“Wait.” Her heart raced. He couldn’t head back. She hadn’t had time to see if the clues to the mine were in her father’s belongings.

He stared down at her.

“Give me a chance to go through my father’s things. I’m—” She didn’t want to tell anyone about her father’s hidden mine. Surely, if this man had been friends with her father he would know about it, but since he hadn’t mentioned it in his letter, she didn’t know if her father hadn’t told him or he planned to keep the mine for himself.

Mr. Corum sat on the other chair. “I’m sorry. As long as Alan was away from home, I didn’t think you’d be upset to go through his things.” He reached down into the box. “I didn’t send them home because they weren’t worth the postage.” He held up a dirty sweat-stained slouch hat. He handed it to her.

Alamayda held her breath and turned the garment over in her hands. There wasn’t anything unusual about the dirty hat. She placed it on the porch between them.

He pulled out a chambray shirt. It was well-worn with patches but clean. “This is his clean set of clothes. The ones he was wearing when he took sick I burned. They were covered in dirt and—”

She didn’t want to think about what might have been on her father’s clothing. She’d nursed a sick mother long enough to know there were accidents and such.

Her heart lurched at the thought he’d burned a set of clothing. “Did he have anything in his pockets?” She couldn’t bear to think this man might have burned up her only way of finding the mine.

“Only a couple coins. I put those in this clean pair of trousers.” He handed over a faded, patched pair of wool trousers.

She put her hand in a pocket and pulled out two dimes. Tears started to burn the back of her eyes. Her father had died with two dimes in his pocket. He’d sent money home over the years, never on a regular basis. She’d had to make sure the farm had supplied all she and her siblings had needed. She’d sold eggs and cleaned rooms at the local hotel to make enough money to buy the things they couldn’t make on their own, like shoes and tools. There had to be something in his things to tell her where the mine he talked about in his letters could be found.

Mr. Corum cleared his throat. “Here’s his coat but it’s kind of…” He didn’t have to finish.

Alamayda held her arm up in front of her nose. “Did my father never take a bath?” she asked, trying to imagine what he must have looked like the last few years.

“He’d take one monthly in the summer. He didn’t like to pay for a bath at the bath house. Many prefer the cold water of the river to the dirty water someone else has been sittin’ in.” He lowered the coat back into the box. “Your pa used the river so it was only during the warmer weather that he took a bath.”

She didn’t want to touch the nasty garment, but she had to see if there was anything in the pockets or perhaps sewn inside the lining. Holding her hand out, she waited for Mr. Corum to make up his mind about handing it over.

“You sure you want to touch this?” he asked.

She nodded even though she didn’t want to. But she had no choice. He held the coat out and she grabbed it with one hand. She pushed her hands into the gritty pockets and came up with nothing but dirty fingers. Holding her breath, she turned the coat inside out and felt the lining around the cuffs and hem of the coat.

“What are you looking for?” Mr. Corum asked.

She glanced into the box and didn’t see anything else. Dropping the coat back in the box, she folded her hands into her lap. They had to stink as bad as the coat.

“Mr. Corum, I’ll be returning to Morgan’s Crossing with you.”

Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B01BL0HKJQ

Paty Jager, Author

Award-winning author Paty Jager and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. She not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it. All Paty’s work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Her penchant for research takes her on side trips that eventually turn into yet another story.

You can learn more about Paty at:

her blog; Writing into the Sunset 

her website; http://www.patyjager.net 

Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/pages/Paty-Jager/132536633482029

Newsletter: Paty’s Prattle: http://eepurl.com/1CFgX

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1005334.Paty_Jager 

twitter  https://twitter.com/patyjag

FAST TRACK TO GLORY IS AN INTERNATIONAL THRILLER!

She knows the stakes are high...

Genre: International Thriller

Publication Date: January 5, 2016

Nina Monte, a well-respected professor at the University of Padua, answers an unexpected summons to a secret meeting with three European officials. They want to hire her to verify the authenticity of an ancient artefact hidden on a forgotten galley that sank in the fifteenth century, and to this day lies buried at the bottom of Lake Garda in Italy.

She accepts the invitation to join an eccentric art collector and to examine the artefact. But before long, the Italian professor is cornered in an insidious intrigue. Her inner and outer worlds clash.

Joined by a lake-town hotelier, Alessandro Pini, Monte begins to unravel the truth surrounding the discovery. She knows the stakes are high.

Forced to abandon their ordinary lives, and dragged into a deadly race to outwit a smart, but wicked, villain, Nina and Alessandro must do everything they can to ensure freedom for all humankind.

Amazon | GoodReads

Tomasz Chrusciel had written his first short story when he was sixteen. Although the idea of being a writer had been put off for the next twenty years, he had never forgotten about his dreams. Having left his corporate work, he writes full-time now. 

He loves to travel, and when he’s back from another journey, the next captivating story evolves in his mind. He strongly believes that the most rewarding feeling and the purpose of his writing is to let others experience those vibrant, wonderful countries he’s been too, and to introduce readers to new engaging characters born from his imagination and all those alluring locations. Then he makes that story real – it becomes a reader’s story.

FAST TRACK TO GLORY is his second full-length action and adventure novel.

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HOW I WROTE THORPE'S MAIL ORDER BRIDE -- BY CYNTHIA WOOLF

 by Cynthia Woolf

I love to write mail-order bride books, so that is mostly what I write. Thorpe’s Mail-Order Bride started out with a different title and then it was pointed out that my main characters were not living up to that title. So I rethought about the book and what it was actually about and changed the name.

I’m a big fan of NCIS: New Orleans and I wanted a book that had some of that flavor in it. From that primordial soup came Helena Dubois the daughter of a madam. And not just any madam, but the most celebrated and famous madam in all of New Orleans.

So I had my heroine, now she needed a hero. And I needed conflict in the story. What could be better than a man, John Thorpe, blacksmith in Morgan’s Crossing, in the Montana Territory, who wants a wife of good and moral character? What would happen when he finds that our heroine’s mother is a madam? Will he still believe our heroine is a moral person? Well, of course not. What would the fun in that be?

Next I had my heroine return to New Orleans to her mother. I needed to get the flavor of New Orleans so I could put some of that in the book and into my heroine’s mother, who is French. I went to New Orleans, to the French Quarter, to the Monteleone hotel which I mention in the book. We went to the Garden District, where I set my heroine’s mothers’ mansion.

I like to visit the places that I set my stories. It helps me to have the flavor of the countryside or city. I know what the place looks like and can use that information to impart descriptions and a feeling for the area and then I get more information about the people who lived there from books about that period in time for that area, in this case the year was 1887.

With one of my series I placed it in Golden, Colorado, which is where I grew up. I worked in the Pioneer Museum and the Railroad Museum when I was a teenager and my mother was a librarian so I knew how to do research. It was fun to go back in time and see what my town was like in the 1860’s 

and 70’s.

Here is an excerpt from Thorpe’s Mail-Order Bride

“I can understand your reluctance to believe me, but it is the truth. I should have let Mellisande accompany me. She wanted to, you know, but I wanted to tell you myself, vain person that I am.”

He turned his hat over and over on his lap.

“I thought sure you’d be happy about the news. Look, I’m a well-known business-man and couldn’t have my relationship with your mother known within certain circles. When you were two, we decided I should remarry and when you were six we sent you away to school to shield you from your mother’s business. One of your classmates, Eric Rappaport, is my stepson. Do you remember him?”

Lena’s breath caught in her throat at that news. She sat straighter, glad she was sitting on the chair. “That’s true,” she nodded. “I do remember Eric. He was totally obnoxious and mean to me the whole time we were at school together. Does he know about this, too? That you’re supposed to be my father.”

Robert sat forward on his chair. “I’m afraid he does. He overheard me telling my wife, his mother, of your existence. I wanted to take care of you and did the best I could. Now, though, you’re of an age that you must marry and have children of your own. I’ve found a suitable man back in New York. One of my business partners actually. Your mother’s association to you will never be known.”

Anger gave Lena strength and she stood, back straight. She would not show any softness toward him, no matter how much she wanted to have a father. He could be a complete liar. But he wouldn’t have known those things about me if he wasn’t who he said he is. “You propose to tell me that you’re my father and I must marry someone you have chosen for me, all in few minutes. Are you out of your mind?”

“No. You are an adult now and need to take on adult responsibilities.”

She couldn’t believe his arrogance and she didn’t need a stranger’s help in securing a husband. She would remain calm, just like she did when the children she taught were getting rambunctious.

“I’ll pick my own husband.”

“Listen to me Helena—”

“My name is Lena and I refuse to be dictated to by a stranger. Please leave.” She pulled the cord for Thaddeus.

The library door opened and Thaddeus entered. He was not just a butler, but also her mother’s bodyguard. Lena had no fear when he was near. “You rang, Miss Lena?”

“Yes, Thaddeus. Please show out this gentleman.”

“I’ll leave now, Helena,” Robert donned his hat. “But I’ll be back in two weeks and I expect you to be ready to come with me to New York.

“Please leave, Mr. Drummond, before I have Thaddeus hail a police officer.”

“As you wish.” Drummond was not a happy man, but he stood and left through the door that Thaddeus held open. “I can find my own way out.”

Lena shook all over. Never would she marry some man her mother, or her newly discovered father, had chosen for her. Her mother had tried before to get her to marry. Lena was shamed by Mellisande’s business and might hate herself sometimes because of that shame, but she hadn’t fallen so far that she would allow her mother to choose a husband for her. She hadn’t before when Mellisande wanted her to, why would her mother think that she would now?

How could they tell her all of this at once and expect her to acquiesce to their demand? First she had a father, and second, she was supposed to marry some strange man, not of her choosing. That had been the problem last time. She hadn’t chosen the man. Her mother had. This was no different and she would not stand for it.

She dropped into one of the large overstuffed chairs in front of the empty fireplace, making sure it was not the one her father had sat in. Grabbing the paper from the coffee table she flipped through the pages looking for a special advertisement. One she’d heard whispered about by her teacher friends at school when they wanted to marry.

Finally she found it and read to remind herself of the details.

Women wanted. Matchmaker & Co in Golden, Colorado is recruiting women with the object of marriage to one of their thoroughly screened bachelors. These men are farmers, ranchers, miners and of other occupations, that are desirous of marriage and family. Contact Mrs. Maggie Black, with your photograph and the type of man you are looking for.

This was perfect. She could choose a husband far away from both New York and New Orleans. Her parents would never find her and she’d finally lead her own life as she saw fit.

Cynthia Woolf, Author

Cynthia Woolf is the award winning and best-selling author of nineteen historical western romance books and two short stories with more books on the way. She was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side with her friends.

Their closest neighbor was about one quarter of a mile away, so her little brother was her playmate and her best friend. That fierce friendship lasted until his death in 2006.

Cynthia loves writing and reading romance. Her first western romance, Tame A Wild Heart, was inspired by the story her mother told her of meeting Cynthia’s father on a ranch in Creede, Colorado. Although Tame A Wild Heart takes place in Creede, that is the only similarity between the stories. Her father was a cowboy not a bounty hunter and her mother was a nursemaid (called a nanny now) not the ranch owner.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she's made at Colorado Romance Writers for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.

TITLES AVAILABLE

THORPE’S MAIL-ORDER BRIDE, Montana Sky Series

GENEVIEVE: Bride of Nevada, American Mail-Order Brides Series

THE HUNTER BRIDE – Hope’s Crossing, Book 1

GIDEON – The Surprise Brides

MAIL ORDER OUTLAW – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 1

MAIL ORDER DOCTOR – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 2

MAIL ORDER BARON – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 3

NELLIE – The Brides of San Francisco 1

ANNIE – The Brides of San Francisco 2

CORA – The Brides of San Francisco 3

JAKE (Book 1, Destiny in Deadwood series)

LIAM (Book 2, Destiny in Deadwood series)

ZACH (Book 3, Destiny in Deadwood series)    

CAPITAL BRIDE (Book 1, Matchmaker & Co. series)

HEIRESS BRIDE (Book 2, Matchmaker & Co. series)

FIERY BRIDE (Book 3, Matchmaker & Co. series)

TAME A WILD HEART (Book 1, Tame series)

TAME A WILD WIND (Book 2, Tame series)

TAME A WILD BRIDE (Book 3, Tame series)

TAME A SUMMER HEART (short story, Tame series)

TAME A HONEYMOON HEART (novella, Tame series)

WEBSITE – www.cynthiawoolf.com

NEWSLETTER - http://bit.ly/1qBWhFQ

NEW RELEASE, AMANDA'S RANCHER, A KINDLE WORLD NOVEL

This is my first experience with writing for a Kindle World. Mine is Debra Holland’s Montana Sky Series. Another first for me, writing a book set in Montana. Writers have to keep stretching and engaging in new forms of their craft so they don’t go stale.

Raising my hand and freely admitting that this book about ate my lunch. While I love Debra Holland’s books, I had to reread her Mail-Order Brides of the West to jot down all the names and descriptions. I believe I got them true to her portrayal.

When the world is one I’ve created, I have the setting and characters firmly in my mind. While I remembered the characters from Debra’s books, that didn’t mean I could describe them. I also had to visualize the setting she’d laid out. Fortunately, one of the other authors in the world, Lou Nelson, worked with Debra and created a map. What a help!

When I saw stretching, I really stretched with AMANDA'S RANCHER. I worried so much writing this book that I about made myself sick. However, my beta readers told me it’s a great book. You can imagine my relief!

My story in this world is AMANDA’S RANCHER. Here’s the blurb:

One desperate young woman.

A chance meeting.

A life-changing outcome.

Growing up in a brothel, Mara O'Sullivan battled public disdain and contempt, but always remained kind-hearted and gracious. After testifying against vicious bank robbers, her life is threatened and Mara must find sanctuary far from everything she knows.  

One train ride changes her life as she fatefully meets a half-sister and a niece she never knew existed. But when circumstances end her sister's life, Mara makes a promise that she'll raise her niece as her own and take her sister's place as Preston Kincaid's mail-order-bride. As Mara and Preston grow closer, their marriage no longer seems like a ruse, but a relationship of love, passion, and desire.

Mara's past comes back to haunt her and she finds herself in danger—will her new husband forgive Mara's deceit and protect her as his own? 

Here’s an excerpt of AMANDA’S RANCHER:

They reached the church and Preston jumped down from the wagon and came around to help her alight. With a smile, he lifted Iris high over his head before he set her on the ground. Her giggle brought tears to Amanda’s eyes.

That was the first time she’d ever heard her daughter make the girlish sound. Iris had smiled, spoken, but never laughed until she met Preston Kincaid. For that alone, Amanda would be the best wife she knew how to be.

Inside the church, Mrs. Norton handed Amanda a bouquet of daisies secured with a white ribbon. The interior was plain with wooden benches and an altar raised one step above the rest of the floor. Although there were several windows, none had stained-glass as did the churches she’d seen in Georgia.

The minister was waiting at the front of the church and wore a black frock coat and matching string tie. His brown hair and beard were thickly streaked with gray. He stood at a simple lectern with what looked like a Bible in one hand while he conversed with another man.

Amanda was surprised only one other person besides Reverend and Mrs. Norton were in the sanctuary. She’d supposed Preston had many friends in the area and thought at least his ranch hands would attend. The second man turned and proved to be an older version of her groom who came forward to greet her.

Preston cupped her elbow. “Amanda and Iris, this is my father. Most folks call him Tom, but I call him Papa.”

Amanda smiled at the handsome man who must be around fifty. He was tall, but maybe an inch shorter than his son. Silver sprinkled the same dark hair. “May I call you Papa, too?”

He beamed his pleasure and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’d be honored. And in the absence of your father, may I walk you down the aisle?”

“Would you? I’d be ever so grateful.” She laid her hand on his arm. Nerves had set in and she needed his support or her knees might give way.

Preston said, “Iris, why don’t you stand with me while my papa walks Mama to meet us?”

Iris shook her head. “Mommy, not my old mama?”

Preston frowned. “Old mama?”

Panic sent bile into her throat that threatened to choke her. Don’t throw up on your wedding dress. “Perhaps you remember my mother recently died.”

Sympathy shone from his blue eyes. “Of course.” He took Iris’ hand in his and strode to the front.

Mrs. Norton began playing the piano. She nodded toward Amanda. Papa Kincaid gently led her up the aisle.

Walking toward her husband, Amanda was conscious of Preston’s stare, as if he could see into her mind and knew her for an impostor. Although he held Iris’ hand, the intensity of his blue gaze unnerved her. She wondered if he was disappointed or if he were as numb as she.

Thankful for the presence of her future father-in-law beside her, she tightened her hold on Mr. Kincaid’s arm.

In response, he patted her hand her where it laid on his sleeve. Without looking at her, he whispered. “Steady as you go. We’re almost there.”

Iris gave a tiny wave and Amanda couldn’t resist smiling at the child. The little girl truly was a blessing. Focusing on Iris gave Amanda a target she could face.

When they reached the front, Mrs. Norton ceased playing. Preston took the bouquet from Amanda’s hands. “Iris, would you hold this for Mommy so she and I can be married?”

Iris looked at him adoringly and reached to receive the flowers. Reverend Norton opened his Bible and began the ceremony. Preston took Amanda’s hands in his. She was conscious of his calluses, but also of the size and strength of his palms dwarfing hers.

When the minister indicated, Preston slipped a ring onto her finger. This new one belongs to me, even if my groom doesn’t know my true name.

After the ceremony, Preston brushed his lips gently against hers.

Iris clapped a hand across her mouth in surprise then said, “Mommy? That man kissed you.”

Preston knelt eye-to-eye with her. “I’m your new Daddy, remember? Mommy and I were just married and now I can kiss her whenever she says it’s okay. Do you think you can call me Daddy?”

Iris nodded. “Are you gonna kiss me too?”

He smiled broadly. “I certainly am.” He leaned forward and gave her a loud smack on the cheek.

The child giggled. Twice in one day this kind man had made Iris happy. Amanda owed Preston all her wifely devotion.

Buy Link for AMANDA'S RANCHER is http://amzn.com/B01BL0HKPK

I hope you'll give AMANDA'S RANCHER a read and let me know how you like it at caroline at carolineclemmons dot com. If you do like it, please leave a review on Amazon! Positive reviews are so helpful to authors. Many venues won't let us promote our books unless we have a certain number of 4 and 5 star review.

VALENTINE PETS AND KISSES OFFERS 14 NEW ROMANCES FOR 99 CENTS

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NOT ALWAYS HAPPENSTANCE BY RACHAEL ANDERSON

Not Always Happenstance by Rachael Anderson


Lani has lived in Hana, Hawaii for five years. She’s learned to surf, fish, dive, and manage her grandmother’s bed and breakfast. She’s also learned to take one day at a time the way it should be taken—relaxed and unrushed, savoring every moment.


But, like a large wave on the brink of breaking, her life is about to crash out of control. A proposal of marriage, a conniving grandmother, a cryptic Asian woman, and a handsome guest, and suddenly everything calm begins to churn, everything clear becomes confused, and all that was normal segues into peculiar.


As Lani struggles against the current to hold her ground, she realizes that she can either continue to fight and eventually lose, or take a take a leap of faith, hold her breath, and ride the wave wherever it takes her.


***This book is part of the Power of the Matchmaker series that features one recurring character—the match maker—but it is a STAND-ALONE novel.***

Author Rachael Anderson

A USA Today bestselling author, Rachael Anderson is the mother of four and is pretty good at breaking up fights, or at least sending guilty parties to their rooms. She can't sing, doesn't dance, and despises tragedies. But she recently figured out how yeast works and can now make homemade bread, which she is really good at eating.

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LOVES OF OUR LIVES

Loves of our Lives

by A.C. Chenier

The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour.

GENRE: Romance

LOVES OF OUR LIVES Blurb:

For Katie Benjamin, finding the perfect soul mate was just a fairy tale until a chance encounter on a train changes everything. What she discovers takes her on a journey that spans lifetimes.

LOVES OF OUR LIVES Excerpt:

“I had this commissioned for you to have. I want you to wear it close to your heart and know my heart is now and will always be yours.” He opened the case and displayed a gold locket. She gasped at the beautiful locket within the case. It was a white cameo in a pale pink background.

“Turn it over,” he said.

She did and read the words he had engraved on the back. Forever in my heart, forever in my soul.

She felt tears running down her face as she looked at the beautiful words and then into Jonathon’s eyes. She looked deep into his eyes and felt her own soul connecting directly to Jonathon. He said to her, “Forever in my heart, forever in my soul. I will find you again.” He then wrapped his arms around her and took her lips in a passionate kiss. Her heart was hammering in her throat as she kissed him back. To her it felt a bit like a good-bye kiss, but a kiss filled with the promise of reuniting in time.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Loves-Our-Lives-Novel-Past-ebook/dp/B01AMLI0GW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1452822698&sr=8-1&keywords=loves+of+our+live

A. C. Chenier, Author

I am a CPA, CGA and live in Southern Ontario. After working for many years in the high pressure worlds of banking and IT, I decided that it was time to have a change in pace. Leaving Toronto behind I embarked on a new career in retail sales. The change was wonderful, but I felt something was missing.

Then, the unthinkable happened, and I was widowed at 46. That was a truly life altering experience. In time, I was introduced to the books and work of Dr. Brian Weiss. I discovered in his research a new purpose in life, and was driven to start writing, something I had always enjoyed, but never thought of as a career choice.

And now here we are in 2015, and my first novel is ready to be published. My second, also in the Past Lives series, will follow shortly.  I continue to write and dream of a future that I had never even considered in my wildest dreams.

LINKS:

www.acchenier.com

www.facebook.com/ACChenier

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