Wednesday, October 08, 2025

The Lady and the Secret Lord by Kate Moore

The Lady and the Secret Lord
by Kate Moore

BLURB:


In 1835 London, two stubborn souls from separate worlds collide and clash in the search for a missing child. When a threatening message warns Lady Phoebe Marchmont to stop searching for her missing younger brother, the Earl of Grafton, she rebels. Donning a disguise that permits her to move freely about London despite her youth and station, she entreats one of Scotland Yard’s secret detectives to assist her. The catch is that she must share in the investigation.

Former beat cop Robin Jones jumps at the chance to work a case that could prove him worthy to join the ranks of a secret group preparing to be Scotland Yard's first detectives. But finding the missing earl threatens to expose Robin’s youth as a troubled street urchin, a lost boy. Now Robin must face his past to help the determined and witty Lady Phoebe find her brother. The case will peel away all their disguises.

EXCERPT:


“What am I to call you?” he asked. Robin's voice sounded rough in his ears. 

Her chin came up. Her defiant gaze met his. “You mean if you decided to be polite and respectful and observe the distinctions of rank?” 

He took a step toward her. “I mean,” he said, “if you decided to observe the proprieties that govern a lady’s behavior, that keep her reputation and her person safe, Lady Phoebe.” 

“I don’t like lady,” she said. “It is a title tighter than this corset.” 

He laughed. “That corset would fall off you without the padding.” He wished it would. He wanted to see her true waist, to measure it with his hands. 

“That’s easy for you to say. You have no restraints. You come and go without anyone remarking your conduct or condemning it. No one requires you to hire a lady’s companion.” 

“True,” he said. “A lady’s companion would be a most inconvenient partner for a policeman.” 

She stepped out from behind the desk, advancing a little into the room. “If your brother went missing, you would not be obliged to hire a companion merely so that you could attend a musicale while other people searched for him. Well, I’ve had enough of that. Enough of well-meaning people telling me that I should abandon the search and have him declared dead so that I can return to society and take my place as a lady. So, no, you will not call me Lady Phoebe.” 

AUTHOR BIO:



Kate taught English lit to generations of high school students, who are now her Facebook friends, while she not-so-secretly penned Romances. In Kate's books readers find characters battling undeniable mutual attraction. Through laughs and missteps, warm-hearted, practical women draw honorable, edgy loners into a circle of love in Regency England or contemporary California. A Golden Heart, Golden Crown, and Book Buyers Best award winner, three-time RITA finalist and three-time Library Journal "top pick" in Romance, Kate lives north of San Francisco with her paddle-boarding husband, stray black cat, toys for visiting grandkids, and miles of crowded bookshelves. 

 


 

Monday, October 06, 2025

Murder She Rollled by Shelly Jones


Murder She Rollled
by Shelly Jones

Book Blurb:


Solving a murder can get dicey.

Wren Winters is thrilled when her gaming group is invited to join the town’s new superstar streamer Noelle Williams for a live demo—after all, a little publicity could put Wren’s board game shop, the Cardboard Sheep, on the map. But moments before they go live, Noelle collapses on camera, and by the time Wren arrives at her house, Noelle is dead and the police are swarming.

Detective Greene, who still remembers last summer’s murder at Wren’s shop, is back with questions—and suspicions. As Wren and her friends reel from the shock, secrets about Noelle’s life emerge: relentless online harassment, jealous exes, and a sister desperate to pull her offline. Then another member of the group falls ill with similar symptoms.

With danger closing in and a game board full of suspects, Wren refuses to sit on the sidelines. She’s determined to solve the puzzle before her friend’s game is over for good.

Excerpt:


Chapter One 

“Are you sure we’re not lost?” Charlie Reynolds moaned from the backseat. Looking out the car window, they removed their earbuds and shook their head. “Didn’t we pass this same spot a few minutes ago?” 

Wren Winters laughed as she eyed Charlie in the rearview mirror. She braked at a stop sign and searched for the road names posted at the intersection. Though she’d lived in Hollow’s Way since her college days, she wasn’t very familiar with this particular neighborhood, which was tucked out of the way along the hillside far beyond the college campus. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the driver.” Easing through the intersection, she veered toward the edge of the road and parked along the street, waiting for further instructions. 

“Oh fearless navigator, are you awake? Esther?” Jo Martin called from the passenger seat, twisting around to address the others. Instead of her normal nursing scrubs, this morning she rocked a burgundy button-down cardigan and gold hoop earrings that complemented her olive complexion. 

Esther Chambers stared out the window, her eyes glassy and far away. She seemed to barely notice that the car had come to a stop. 

Charlie gently nudged her with their knee, and Esther startled, jolting to attention. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” Esther insisted, her face reddening. “I was merely . . .” She paused, straightening her mussed pink hair. “Meditating.” 

“Of course.” Jo turned back in her seat with a smirk. “Well, could you meditate on where we are and if we’re going in the right direction?” 

“What’s Noelle’s address?” Wren asked, turning off the radio so she could hear better. 

“And tell us again how you know Noelle,” Charlie added, tapping idly on the car door. “You must know her better than just following her on social media if we’re invited to be on her show.” 

Esther’s friend, Noelle Williams, was an up-and-coming livestreamer who regularly recorded sessions of role-playing games on her Twitch channel, Need to Watch Games. She had reached out to Esther to see if she wanted to play through a new indie RPG called Among the Singing Stones. Ever up for a game—and attention—Esther had jumped at the opportunity and invited the others to join, thinking it would be a good chance to catch up with her old friend, and great PR for Wren’s board game store, the Cardboard Sheep. 

Esther fumbled for her phone in her oversized purse, dumping out a notebook, several receipts, and her keys onto her lap. She pulled up the text thread from Noelle, searching for the address she had sent her. “We went to grad school together years ago and were in a lot of the same library science classes. Noelle was interested in audio archival practices, and we instantly bonded over our mutual hatred of Edison, despite our professor’s obsession with him.” 

“The light bulb guy?” Jo asked, scrunching up her face. 

“The torturer of animals,” Esther huffed. “Do you know what he did to an elephant once?” 

Wren winced, having heard Esther’s rendition of the sordid, albeit historically accurate, tale before. “What am I looking for?” she asked, hoping Esther might focus back on the matter at hand. 

“Twenty Brookside Terrace is the address.” Esther pulled up the map app and looked out the window, scanning for street signs. 

“Have you stayed in touch with Noelle since grad school?” Jo asked, shifting the conversation away from Edison. She winked at Wren, who mouthed a thank you as she waited for further instructions. 

Esther shrugged, her attention still focused on her phone. “We graduated and mostly stayed in touch through the occasional email or DMing each other a quirky link to this or that like—” 

“Pebbling,” Charlie interrupted. 

Jo turned to look at them, confusion wrinkling her brow, unfamiliar with the term. 

“You know, like penguins,” Esther said, unphased by Charlie’s terminology. “I didn’t even realize she had started livestreaming games until last year when I came across a video of her talking about playing Goblinqueen.” 

Goblinqueen was a popular indie RPG Wren frequently had to reorder, selling out of it nearly every month. Players took on the roles of rulers of different goblin tribes, collaborating on how best to protect their members from increasing threats, like murder-hobo adventuring parties and ecological pollution from a nearby wizard’s magical experiments gone wrong. One teen group held a regular game in the shop, meeting once a week to play. Wren always knew it was Goblinqueen time when she’d spy five girls in the back room, wearing homemade crowns fashioned from pipe cleaners, construction paper, or even once, an embroidery hoop. 

“Did you play together when you were in grad school?” Jo asked. 

“Oh, definitely. We rolled up more characters than we rolled library carts,” Esther joked, still looking at her phone. “But I hadn’t thought she’d make a career out of it.” 

“Few did back then,” Charlie commented, as if eons had passed instead of only a decade. The rise of livestreamers playing games and earning a living off of it had certainly boomed in the past few years with YouTubers and Twitch streamers vying for followers of their content. 

“About two more blocks and then a sharp right onto Willow. That will take you to Brookside,” Esther instructed and sagged back in her seat, shoulders slumped. 

“Can do,” Wren said, studying Esther in the rearview mirror. Something was off, more than just the faraway looks and tired eyes. “You okay, though?” 

The neighborhood was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday morning. Down the block, an older man in a navy fleece with a fluffy white dog crossed the street. The dog yapped, leaping ahead on its lead, as its owner tried to keep up. With no traffic nearby, Wren pulled the car back onto the road. 

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Esther ran her fingers through her pink-streaked hair and rubbed at her eye, careful to avoid smearing her pink eye shadow. “There’s something I need to tell you before we get to Noelle’s.” 

Wren glanced over at Jo in the passenger seat, the two sharing a concerned look. 

“Everything okay?” Wren asked again, slowing down the car, trying to elongate their journey in any way possible. If need be, she’d circle around the block or park the car at a store to give Esther more time. 

“Not really . . .” Esther hesitated. Jo turned around and gently patted Esther’s knee, encouragingly. “I’m fine. It’s Noelle I’m worried about.” 

Charlie clicked off their phone and stretched their long legs as far as they could in the cramped backseat. “Anything we can do to help?” 

Esther smiled weakly and sighed. “Well, that’s just it. To be honest, Noelle didn’t just contact me to have us come on her gaming livestream.” She bit her lip, smearing her bright lipstick, and straightened her skirt absent-mindedly. 

Jo and Wren exchanged glances again as Wren pulled the car over into a gas station. A couple came out of the convenience store with cups of coffee, and Wren realized she did not have enough caffeine this morning to deal with whatever this was going to be. 

“Then why did she contact you?” She looped a strand of dark hair from her face and turned sideways in her seat to face Esther, whose shoulders were hunched as if carrying the heavy weight of her worries. 

“Well, she does want us to play together. But, she . . .” Esther sighed and hugged her purse close to her chest. “She wanted my help because she thinks someone is stalking her.” 

“What?” Charlie blurted out, their eyes wide. 

“Is she safe?” Wren asked, trying to understand. She looked at Jo, whose normal calm demeanor seemed rattled by the news. 

“Are we?” Jo asked, a crease dividing her forehead. “How could you keep this from us?” Jo sat back against the passenger door, her arms folded over her chest. “This might be very dangerous.” 

Esther blanched and chewed her lower lip more. “I didn’t think about it that way. I just wanted us to help her however we could.” She reached out a hand toward Jo, her blue nail polish chipped and cracked as if she had been nervously picking at her fingers. 

Jo looked at Wren, who smiled sympathetically, before relenting. Esther squeezed her hand, her eyes turned up in a heartfelt apology. 

“But why didn’t you at least mention this before now?” Jo asked, apparently still upset that Esther had kept them all in the dark. “How can we help if we don’t know what’s going on? You shouldn’t just spring this on us, you know?” Jo’s tone was harsh and authoritative, but Wren caught a hint of fear behind her annoyance. 

Esther released her hand, a sheepish look crossing her face. “Noelle asked me not to mention it. She isn’t sure what to do.” She plucked a black cat hair from the seat cushion of the car, undoubtedly a stray bit of Pip, Wren’s beloved fur-baby. “But then I kept thinking about it and knew I had to tell you. Honestly, I think she’s in denial about this whole thing.” 

“A coping mechanism,” Jo said, the tension in her shoulders and arms easing. 

“Has she tried to get a restraining order?” Charlie asked, ever logical. 

“Does she even know who this stalker is?” Wren chimed in. “Like, is it a random person from the internet or someone she actually knows?” 

An SUV pulled into the gas station and parked at the pumps. A bearded man in a gray flannel suit started to fill up his tank, stretching his neck as he waited. Wren guessed he had been driving for a while. She knuckled her own aching back and returned her attention to Esther. 

“I’m really not sure. She hasn’t wanted to put much in writing.” Esther clicked on the thread of messages from Noelle and scanned them, looking for a specific one. “She just said someone sent her some creepy messages. But she didn’t say if it was online or in person, or if there was more to it than that.” 

Esther had always preferred communicating by text or maybe the occasional email. She wasn’t big on long phone calls. If she could, she’d text 911 in an emergency . . . anything to avoid talking on the phone. 

“I was hoping she’d open up more in person. And especially once she knew we all understood.” Esther looked up at Jo and Wren and then back to Charlie. 

Jo sighed and broke the silence. 

“Of course we understand. And we’ll help if we can. But next time, maybe just let us know before we’re about to walk into a potentially dangerous situation? Maybe give us a heads-up before we get added to a stalker’s radar?” 

“Or at least time to prepare,” Wren added. “I could have brought a knitting needle, or threaded my keys in my hand like Wolverine, or something.” A sly smile tugged at her lips and she winked at her friends, breaking the tension. 

“If she’s having issues online, maybe I could help.” Charlie tapped at their phone and began searching for something in the app store. “There’s a few new apps that could help keep her passwords safer and alert her when her accounts are being accessed on unfamiliar devices.” 

As usual, Wren was impressed with Charlie’s tech savvy. She knew how to set up a two-step verification on her online banking, but hadn’t really gone too much further than that when it came to cybersecurity. “Can you show all of us how to do that?” 

“Yes, sign me up for the advanced online safety lessons, too, please.” Jo raised her hand, a reluctant smirk spreading across her face. 

“I’m not sure what has happened,” Esther confessed. “Whether it’s cyberstalking or in person. All Noelle said was that she no longer felt safe and needed to talk. She didn’t feel comfortable giving me more details online. And I get the sense she’s uncomfortable going out in person much. I told her we could play at the store, but she felt more comfortable staying at home.” 

“Then we better get there,” Wren said, turning around in her seat to face the steering wheel once again. “Anyone need anything while we’re here?” She pointed at the convenience store attached to the gas station. “Or I could reroute us back to Outrageous! for something fancier? Why didn’t we plan ahead and stop there first?” The Outrageous! Bakery was the group’s go-to spot for delicious treats. 

“No can do. Anne is closed today to prepare for a wedding,” Charlie announced. “She told me when I went to pick up the café’s usual order earlier this week.” 

Wren’s mouth salivated at the thought of an Outrageous! wedding cake. Anne’s creations were always decadent and extravagant. A fall-themed cake full of autumnal spices would be extra-delicious. 

Esther and Charlie decided to go inside to buy refreshments to bring to Noelle’s. While she waited, Wren filled up the gas tank so she wouldn’t have to stop on the way home. 

“Do you think it’ll be all right?” Wren asked Jo through the passenger window as she waited for the gas to pump. 

“Noelle, you mean?” Jo was distracted, checking her phone messages in case there was an emergency at the hospital. 

Wren nodded and twisted close the gas cap on the car with a click. 

“Hard to say.” Jo slipped her phone back into her bag. “We don’t really know anything yet. This could play out in a lot of different ways.” 

“I know. That’s what worries me.” Wren climbed back in the car and anxiously waited for the others, tugging at her wedding ring. A few minutes later, they emerged from the store carrying bags of gummy candy and a twelve-pack of seltzer. Charlie handed Wren Styrofoam cups of hot coffee with a nod. “Not exactly Flavor Text Café quality, but I thought some caffeine might be called for.” 

Wren laughed and thanked them for the sweet gesture. The coffee was definitely not as good as the robust brew that Charlie made at the new café at the Cardboard Sheep, but with the mention of a possible stalker lurking, any caffeine would do. 

Author Bio:



Shelly Jones is a professor by trade and a nerd by design. Woefully introverted, their pockets are full of post-it notes and their head is full of (unsaid) witty come-backs and un-won arguments from years past. When they aren’t grading papers or writing new cozy mysteries, Shelly can often be found hiking in the woods or playing a board game while their cats look on.

 


 

Friday, October 03, 2025

Courtship, Love, and Happily Ever After Under the Lone Star Sky by Caroline Clemmons

 


When I think of the rugged cowboys, resourceful ranchers, and spirited heroines who populate my Texas-set novels, it’s the dance of romance on the dusty frontier that lingers sweetest in my memory. History may remember the hardships, but I love to weave in the joys—especially the age-old rituals of courtship, proposals, and weddings under the wide Lone Star sky.

Barn Dances and Stolen Glances

Social gatherings were the heartbeat of rural communities, and nothing stirred excitement quite like a barn dance. Imagine lanterns swinging overhead, fiddles singing into the night, and young women twirling in homemade gowns. For many, these dances offered a rare chance to meet someone new—or perhaps steal a shy smile from the neighbor’s son across the hay bales!

Chaperones kept a watchful eye, and etiquette mattered: holding hands during a waltz was the closest most couples got to intimacy in public. Still, plenty of secret notes and glances were exchanged over lemonade before the last song.

Courtship, Texas-Style

Romance on the frontier took determination. Suitors braved muddy rivers and wide, lonely miles simply to pay a visit. Calling hours—usually on Sunday afternoons—were observed with formality. More than one nervous cowboy practiced a proposal speech as he rode to her door, hat in hand.

Young ladies embroidered handkerchiefs or baked tea cakes for the gentlemen they favored, sending subtle signals of affection. And while arranged marriages weren’t the norm, practicality often guided the heart as much as passion. The capable ranching wife was admired as much as the pretty belle.

Popping the Question: Proposals on the Prairie

Proposals reflected the times—sometimes earnest, sometimes sweetly awkward. Favorite tales from my research and my own stories include tokens like carved wooden boxes, hand-picked wildflowers, or family heirloom rings. The words themselves held as much weight as any gift: “Will you make this place a home with me?” had all the promise a prairie couple needed.

Weddings Under Wide Texas Skies

Weddings could be elaborate affairs when supplies allowed, but more often they were simple, heartfelt ceremonies in a church, a family parlor, or under an ancient oak. Neighbors gathered with food and laughter, and the celebration went on into the night. Afterwards, couples might honeymoon on horseback—literally—riding back to their new lives together.

Love Stories That Inspire

These true tales of courtship and love are what inspire every “happily ever after” in my books. Whether it’s a barn dance kiss or a sunrise proposal, the heart of Texas romance still beats strong today—and I’ll keep writing it as long as readers keep turning the pages.

So, dear friends, if you ever wonder where my sweethearts and heroes find their courage and hope, look no further than the traditions and dreams that shaped our Texas past.

Sign up for my newsletter and get more glimpses into my inspiration and into the Texas past.  Get a free novella, Happy is the Bride, as a thank you. Sign-up form in the widgets.

Yours on the trail to romance,
Caroline

Wednesday, October 01, 2025

Outlaw Ever After by E. Elizabeth Watson


Outlaw Ever After
by E. Elizabeth Watson
Buy Links:


Book Blurb:

They took everything. Now he’s come back to claim it—and her—in this broodingly intense and sexy Highlander romance that will delight fans of Karen Marie Moning and Lynsay Sands. 
 
When she was just a lass, Peigi Grant attended a wedding—one that quickly turned into a night of bloodshed and grief. Through it all, there were whispers of the Comyn heir, a boy accused of the crime, who mysteriously disappeared. 
 
Now it’s fourteen years later, and Peigi’s never breathed a word to a soul about that fateful night…or her role in helping the boy escape. But she never would have dared imagine that sweet boy turning into a roguish warrior who could shatter her heart and her reputation. 
 
Alexander is drawn to Peigi by her clear, sweet voice. Her loveliness—along with an uncanny sensation of fate—tempts him to lay down his war scythe forever. But his clan, his lands, and his very birthright were stolen by the Grant clan…and vengeance still calls to him. 
 
They don’t know his true name. But the Grants will come to fear his wrath…even if it destroys the one person who could tame his wild, Highlander heart. 
 
Outlaw Ever After is an intoxicating, enemies-to-lovers romance between two people fated to fall for each other…even if it sets all of Scotland ablaze. 

Excerpt:

The entire village roared with laughter at the man in the song’s folly for flirting so shamelessly, the children laughing because the adults were laughing, and a muscled arm swung around her shoulders, pulling her tight between his legs as Alex guffawed.

“Such a rogue still got what he deserved.” She giggled, leaning into his embrace.

“A good thing he never met yer brother, songbird,” he jested to more laughter.

She looked back at his bruised face and sewn coat, proof of how close he’d come to that. Yet she saw nothing but affection sparkling in his eyes. He laughed so heartily as if he had not a care, in a world that punished so unfairly.

And she wanted his kiss again. Wanted it so badly. Wanted to believe his declaration that he’d win. Wanted to reverse the wheel of time. She reached up. Cupped his cheek.

His breath hitched against her wrist, as if disbelieving her touch. His gaze holding hers, he turned his lips into her palm and pressed a kiss there.

Song after song, the evening progressed. Her hair was limp from melting flakes, her slippers kicked free and her toes tucked beneath her hem, nestled into the straw. The snow accumulated but the bonfire melted it in its inferno. The songs grew easy. The folk grew merry and danced, ate their bread and drank their ale and chanted Samhain blessings, in preparation for going Souling on the following eve.

“More, mi lady! More!” called villagers.

“Sing the one about the fox and crow!”

“Nay, a good country reel would do!”

They volleyed their choices at her like arrows upon an adversary, as ewers of ale made rounds and splashed into tankards and the folk linked hands around the fire.

“Sing something gentle,” warbled a voice through the commotion.

Joslyn? Why was she here? Peigi looked about and spotted the woman holding a babe on her hip, rubbing its eyes. Joslyn did live in the healer’s hut when not helping at the castle.

One lullaby popped to mind: Alex’s song. The song that had lured him to her.

She strummed a soft chord.

“Lullaby sweet bairn of mine...”

The chatter hushed.

Strummed the next chord.

“Sleeping sweetly in the pine...”

Her cheeks felt hot from the flame. The flute remained silent, and she let herself slip back to that greenwood, let herself think about that summer day when the man at her back had begged her to see him again, had lain in the grass beside her.

That wind whipped again, the bonfire roaring. Her eyes closed as the bone flute finally joined in and fluttered in her ear. Snowflakes twirled through the air like those playful leaves.

“Bright green eyes, rest peacefully...”

She opened her eyes, could see reverence twinkling in Joslyn’s gaze.

“For the world isna what it’s meant to be...”

Alex’s flute trailed away. Only the crackling bonfire, burning low, spoke into the night. She looked up at him— him chewing his cheek, his eyes glistening. His thumb touched her mouth, his fingers slipping into her hair over her ears to cradle her cheek. He studied her lips, uncaring of their audience, and in sooth, she’d become so relaxed, she’d forgotten any discomfort.

The sky dark as pitch was studded with celestial crystals, the clouds having long since moved on.

His lips descended to hers. Brushed like a breeze, always gentle, belying the exuberance with which he seemed to live his life.

And she sank. Into memories. Months of missing him and feeling unworthy crashed over her as a tear slipped down her cheek. It was only lips touching, and yet, she writhed within for more, desperate to feel wanted as a soft growl of desperation reverberated through him, caged in his chest. A taste of what he’d been missing, poured into a simple touch as his breathing came in and out erratically, as if holding everything back...

His forehead again rested to hers, eyes pinched tight in pain. “I need ye,” he gruffed. “Like Pan needs his nymph, like a body needs air, for I’ve been suffocating—”

A whistle whirled. Laughter and clapping erupted.

She yanked back and touched her mouth. Her cheeks were hot. Barely a brush of skin and yet, her lips stung, when her shame receded as Joslyn’s soft smile and misting eyes met hers. Here, among these folk who seemed to accept Alex so, away from the trappings of fanfare and notions of noble honor, she felt...at home. Like this was their wee village on the shore, like she’d once set her heart upon having.

Author Bio:   



Award winning and bestselling author E. Elizabeth Watson is convinced life is better with good coffee, chocolate, and a pair of hiking boots. A former archaeologist and biomed research coordinator, Elizabeth spends her days penning heroes ranging from kilted Scottish warriors to Texas cowboys crowned with Stetsons. Whether in kilts or pearl snaps, her heroes wear plaid!

Get swept away to the Highlands of Scotland or the badlands of West Texas in her adventurous tales where love conquers adversity.

She currently lives on a mountainside in West Virginia with her husband, sons, and various pets. Always honored to hear from readers, make sure to follow her on Facebook, Bookbub, TikTok, Goodreads, and Instagram.




 

Monday, September 29, 2025

Forever Cowboy: Montana's Rodeo Cowboys by Nan Reinhardt


Forever Cowboy:  Montana's Rodeo Cowboys
by Nan Reinhardt
Buy Links: 

 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: 


 

 

Saturday, September 27, 2025

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

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

Rogue Cowboy by Sinclair Jane

 


Rogue Cowboy
Bad Boys of the Rodeo
by Sinclair Jayne

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.

Monday, September 22, 2025

Second Chances by Alana Lorens


Second Chances
by Alana Lorens

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/ 


 

Friday, September 19, 2025

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.

 

 





Wednesday, September 17, 2025

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 

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