Do
you have or want an E-reader, or are you a die hard paper fan? Whichever you
answer, let
me tell you about one of my books available in both print from Amazon and and as a download from Amazon and other online sources. I hope you’ll read and enjoy this romance.
I
am currently writing the third of the Kincaid series, THE MOST UNSUITABLE
COURTSHIP and will release it in October. Right now, the Kincaid series
consists of THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE (book one) and THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND
(book two). Today, I want to tell you about the latter.
When
I was thinking about the plot and naming characters, I wondered what to call
this hero. I saw him clearly in my mind as a bit of a rascal, or thought he was, but changing throughout the book. Talk about character arc! I was sitting in church one
Sunday and the minister mentioned that Bartholomew and Nathaniel were the same
person, but his name changed to show his life’s change when he became a
Christian. Aha! Nathaniel Batholomew would be my hero’s name. But he uses a
long string of aliases, one of which is Nate Barton, and that’s how he
introduces himself to the heroine, Sarah Kincaid.
 |
| Satah Kincaid |
Sarah
is the younger sister of the heroine in THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE. These are
stand-alone books (authors always say that) but you will enjoy them more if you
read them in order. Sarah is a shy young woman very conscious of appearances
and has gone from Texas to St. Louis to her dying mother. Due to her unfortunate
childhood, she always acts with propriety to overcome her origin. She needed a
strong character arc too. What could possibly cause this proper young
schoolteacher to interact with a man she suspects is up to no good? Nothing
short of orphans who must be rescued from an evil man following them could
effect the change. One snowy day in Memphis, Tennessee, Sarah finds three cold
youngsters, one of whom is seriously ill. She enlists Nate to help her get the
youngsters safely to her home. She also hires a lovely Irish woman, Fiona, to
act as her companion for the rest of the trip.
Book
three is Sarah’s brother Storm. I also plan a novella for Nate’s friend Michael
“Monk” and Fiona’s daughter. I love this family and the characters surrounding
it, so you can be certain I’ll be publishing more books about the Kincaid
family and friends.
In
the meantime, here’s an excerpt from THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND:
That
man in black--he'd introduced himself as Nathaniel Barton--had been at the
cemetery. He was always around on the boat, too, and now he was here in their
hotel in Memphis. He trailed behind her as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Surely it was coincidence. Lots of people traveled from St. Louis to Memphis
every day.
The
porter stopped in front of a room and opened the door. He stood back for her to
enter, but not before she saw Mr. Barton at the next door. He even glanced her
way and smiled as he nodded his head in greeting.
My stars, he's staying in
the very next room to mine.
What
kind of hotel would allow a single man on the same floor as a single woman? She
fought down panic as she dealt with the porter, then locked the door behind him
and slid the bolt. Alone in her room, her imagination ran its course as she
paced. Had she strayed into a den of iniquity?
No,
that couldn't be. Mrs. Welborn assured her this was a family hotel suitable for
a young woman. After all, the Welborns registered here, too. How did Mr. Barton
come to be in the very room next to her? It wasn't proper. What would people think?
What would they say?
She
caught herself. The Welborns were the only people here she knew, and she hardly
cared what they thought other than their reports back to the Vermillions and
Aunt Lily. Even they could hardly blame her for the hotel's room assignments.
This
Mr. Barton could not mean her harm. There'd been ample opportunity on the
paddle wheeler had he intended to hurt her. They'd never had a conversation on
a personal level. His comments had centered on the trip and the weather, not a
hint of anything improper and always with others nearby. Perhaps his constant
presence was a coincidence. Just the same, he made her nervous. She felt like a
rabbit waiting for the wolf to pounce whenever Mr. Barton was near.
In
the midst of her concern, she admitted his presence offered reassurance to her
that she was protected from others. Surely he would rush to her aid if she
needed assistance. Her instincts proved right regarding Mr. Welborn. Perhaps
she should rely on intuition in this instance. She wished she were more
decisive, not a victim of warring emotions.
She
raised her skirt and checked the little double-shot derringer given her by her
brother, Storm. Best to be prepared. The little gun still rested securely in
its garter holster on her thigh. Storm had insisted she practice until she was
a fair shot. Would she have the courage to use the weapon against a human? She
doubted it, but its weight reassured her.
Sarah
spied the door connecting her room with the one in which Mr. Barton resided.
Rushing to check the lock, she stopped. She must not let him know she suspected
him of following her. Very slowly she turned the knob of the connecting door.
Locked. She released a heavy sigh.
Curiosity
nudged her. Kneeling, she peered through the keyhole. The opening framed him as
he pulled a fresh shirt from an open valise on the bed. Shucking his jacket and
waistcoat, he took a pistol from his waistband and placed it on the bed beside
the satchel. He unbuttoned his shirt.
She
knew she should move away but couldn't. Oh, my stars! He might dress like a riverboat dandy, but
this gorgeous man was no weakling. Trouser fabric pulled taut against trim hip
muscles when he turned and bent over the things on the bed.
Her
mouth went dry as a Texas dust storm. She watched him turn back to face her. He
removed his shirt and tossed it behind him on the bed. Then she saw the bandage
across his shoulder and another at his waist. She wondered which side of the
law he was on when he got those, but thought she knew. The wrong side, of course.
He
picked up a fresh shirt and she caught the ripple of muscles across his chest
as he slipped the shirt on. His movements were swift and powerful, not the
sluggish ambling she had witnessed in public.
Occasionally
in summer she had caught glimpses of her brother, her brother-in-law, and the
hands at the ranch with their shirts off. Unlike their tanned torsos, Mr.
Barton's pale skin made her fingers tingle to touch the brown chest hair that
converged in a vee at his belt. She wondered how far below his waist the pelt
descended. A pool of warmth gathered at the base of her stomach.
My stars, what disgraceful
thoughts.
Where
did they come from? They weren’t proper. No, not at all suitable. Being away
from home must be having a poor effect on her.
Never
before had such scandalous ideas entered her head about any man. She didn’t
have these thoughts about Peter Dorfmeyer, and everyone expected her to marry
Peter. Mr. Barton was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but she must get
her wayward thoughts under control.
Buttoning
his shirt, Mr. Barton stepped from her view. When he returned and glared at the
keyhole, she froze. Surely he couldn't know she watched him. She sank further
to the floor and sat with her back against the door.
Sarah
pressed her hands to heated cheeks, shocked at her own behavior. She was no
better than a window peeper. What on earth had come over her?
A
sudden thought assailed her. What if he planned to look through the keyhole as
she had? Taking a hanky from her cuff, she draped it over the doorknob so it
hung across the tiny opening. No, that wouldn’t do. It kept sliding off. She
rose and opened her traveling bag and took out a shirtwaist. Hanging it on the
knob, she stepped back. Perfect. It looked as if she used the handle for a hook.
She
crossed to the vanity. Not taking time to change from her traveling suit into a
dress, she contented herself with pushing stray hair back into her chignon and
grabbing her shawl. With any luck, she could purchase her train ticket while
her neighbor had his dinner.
Sarah
walked briskly to the train station. A line greeted her at the ticket window.
Oh, well, she loved watching people, so she wouldn't mind the wait. Taking her
place in the row, she surveyed the other prospective passengers wandering to
and fro. She studied the clothes of other women, compared them to her own black
clothing. In her head she made up stories of who they were and where they might
be headed.
A
young boy bumped with a wham into the man in front of her. The child's hand
darted into the man's pocket and out with a flash and secured the lifted wallet
under his shirt. Probably no more than seven or eight, the lad wore the
dirtiest clothes Sarah had ever seen. His hair might have been blond at one
time, but it and his skin had gone a long time without touching soap and water.
"Oh,
excuse me, sir." The boy's large blue eyes were the picture of innocence
when he gazed up at the man.
Sarah
gasped. What should she do? She couldn't bring herself to cause a scene by
screaming, but neither could she stand by and let the child rob this man.
"Steady,
you little ragamuffin.” The victim placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Slow down and see you're more careful next time.”
"Yes,
sir, sorry. I will, sir.” The boy moved swiftly away into the crowd.
Sarah
took off after the little thief. He looked over his shoulder and she motioned
to him. His eyes widened in alarm and he ran. She gathered her skirts and
rushed after him, weaving around groups of people.
When
she had almost caught up with the light-fingered boy, she thudded against a
solid wall of chest.
Mr.
Barton grunted and clutched Sarah's shoulders, then dropped his hands and made
a slight bow. "Why, I believe it's Miss Kincaid, is it not? Are you in
some sort of distress?"
"No,
it was nothing.” She peered over his shoulder but the thief was nowhere in
sight. "I thought I saw someone I knew, but I was mistaken.” She felt her
cheeks flush again with guilt. Their collision must have jarred his injured
chest, but she couldn't ask him about it. How could she explain that knowledge?
"Your
traveling companions--Welwoods or Welworths--are they with you?"
"No.
The Welborns were tired and planned to have dinner sent to their room.” She
thanked heavens for that. Eating with the odious Mr. Welborn soured her
stomach. But now this man who, for all appearances, followed her everywhere had
neatly trapped her. A shiver of apprehension skittered down her spine, but she
stood mesmerized by his tawny eyes.
As
if he sensed her fear, he offered a crooked smile and proffered his` arm.
"May I escort you back to the hotel?"
"I
was..." she stopped. Her nerves jangled with alarm, but she strove to
appear calm. She preferred buying her ticket in private. If he hadn't yet
learned where she headed, she didn't want him to know her exact destination.
"That would be very kind, um, Mr. Barton.”
"Bit
cool this evening, isn't it?"
My
stars, didn't the man ever talk about anything but the weather? Maybe he was
one of those gorgeous physical specimens with the brain of a rock.
She
sighed and answered, "Yes, there's a chill in the air. I suppose we're in
for more winter.”
What
should she do? Panic turned her stomach in knots. She should send him on his
way, but didn't know what to say or do. Hating herself for her timidity, she
once more flowed with the easiest course and allowed herself to be escorted
back to the hotel.
Buy
links for THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND are:
Amazon for print and e-book
Smashwords for e-books
Also available for Nook, Kobo, and iTunes.
Reviews
for THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND include a 4 1/2 star Top Pick from Romantic
Times Magazine. This book was also a finalist in the National Readers Choice
competition but came in a fraction behind the winner. But it’s impossible to
please everyone. Two people have left very mean-spirited reviews on Amazon. If
you read this book and enjoyed it, would you please leave a kind review on Amazon?
Thanks
for stopping by!
