Monday Author Meetup: Caroline Clemmons’ Latest Releases

Caroline Clemmons - Dreamin in Dallas - 4-1-11

About the author:

Caroline Clemmons is an Amazon bestselling author of historical and contemporary western romances whose books have garnered numerous awards. A frequent speaker at conferences and seminars, she has taught workshops on characterization, point of view, and layering a novel. Caroline is a member of Romance Writers of America, Dallas Area Romance Authors, Yellow Rose Romance Writers, and Hearts Through History Romance Writers.

Caroline and her husband live in the heart of Texas cowboy country with their menagerie of rescued pets. When she’s not indulging her passion for writing, Caroline enjoys reading, travel, antiquing, genealogy, painting, and getting together with friends. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Pinterest.

R&R 2nd revise

Caroline says:

When I was invited to participate in the RAWHIDE ‘N ROSES collection of short stories, I was thrilled. I was also terrified. I don’t write short stories well—I write novels and novellas. Yikes! Could I compose a short story of only 2,000 words?

Non-writers might think shorter is easier, but I promise you it is not. Getting all the components of a love story into only 2,000 words is an art. And it’s one I still haven’t mastered.

So, I wondered, what should I write? In THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE, for which I’ve planned to do linked books, Dallas McClintock marries Cenora Rose O’Niell. I decided to write a story telling how Dallas’s parents (Houston McClintock and Gentle Dove Tall Trees) met and fell in love.

As I said, writing short is hard. My story came out to just over 8,000 words. I edited and edited and asked Lyn to help me, which she did. Finally, the story was down to 1,999 words. I’d cut all the descriptions I love, cut the inciting incident, cut Houston’s stay in Texas, and cut much of the romance. But the love story is there, complete with why Dallas’s parents remained in Georgia.

I repeat, writing short is hard!

Several of the authors in this collection/anthology are gifted at short stories. All of them wrote very intriguing stores. And where else can you get fifteen stories for the price?

Here’s a peek at mine.


by Caroline Clemmons

Northwest Georgia, 1858

Too weak to move, Houston McClintock’s eyes refused to open.

“You’re safe now.” The voice soft as velvet calmed him.

He gasped to speak but his dry throat and tongue refused to cooperate. A damp cloth moistened his lips, then drops of water trickled into his mouth.

Someone bathed his face. Blessed coolness. He forced open his eyes.

The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen leaned over him. Her bronze skin proclaimed her an Indian. Light from the window shot blue and copper highlights across her coal black hair. Kindness shone from her face. She appeared near his age of twenty-five.

”Good morning. My name is Gentle Dove, but friends call me Dovie.” Her smile illuminated her features. She braced his head and held a cup to his mouth.

Gratefully, he swallowed.

He searched the room for clues. Planed log walls bore signs of expert craftsmanship. He lay in a brass bed covered by a brightly colored quilt. Dovie wore Anglo clothes.

In whirling memories, he recalled his frantic ride for the trees. Men shooting. Pain in his shoulder and head. The sensation of falling.

Had the robbers stolen his saddlebags? Money from the sale of family land in Tennessee? His favorite horse, Lightning?

He tried to rise but fell back. “Where?”

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Don’t fret. You’re in the home of John Tall Trees in Georgia. You were badly injured and stripped when Papa found you.”

Damn, was he buck naked? Houston slid his hands frantically under the covers. He exhaled relief when he realized he wore britches.

She smiled mischievously as if she understood his concern. “You’re taller than Papa but he loaned you clothes. We didn’t risk opening your wounds to add a shirt.”

He glimpsed strips of fabric binding his shoulder and chest. “Bad?”

“I dug out the lead, but we almost lost you. Only a strong will could have survived.” She leaned forward to adjust the bandage at his forehead. Honeysuckle filled his senses and a cascade of lustrous ebony hair fell across his chest.

An older man appeared behind Dovie. “About time you woke up, young fella. I’m John Tall Trees.”

“Here…long?” The few words he’d spoken since he’d awakened exhausted him.

“Four days ago I found you and tracks of three men. You needed help immediately. My daughter is very skilled in our medicines.”

“Don’t fear.” She checked his shoulder bandage and offered a wry smile. “I have also studied white man’s medicines.”

John gestured over his shoulder. “Big dun showed up. Figured she was your horse.”

He sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t lost Lightning. “Saddle?”

“None. Horse appeared interested in the house. Guess she tracked you here.”

Dear Lord, his family’s money was in the saddlebags. They’d trusted him and he’d let them down. “Family…write…for me?”

“Sure, tell me who.”

“Father…Vincent McClintock…McClintock Falls…Texas.”

John Tall Trees nodded. “Your name?”


“I’ll post a letter today.” He repeated the name and address.

Houston tried to nod, but the hammering in his head increased. He closed his eyes

Dovie tucked the quilt around him. “Rest. When you wake, I’ll have warm soup for you.”

Buy RAWIDE ‘N ROSES on these sites: Amazon            Amazon UK             Barnes & Noble


The Most Unsuitable Courtship

In addition to HOUSTON McCLINTOCK in RAWHIDE ‘N ROSES, I have eighteen other titles available. My latest release is THE MOST UNSUITABLE COURTSHIP, Kincaids book 3. Here’s the blurb:

Storm Kincaid wants justice; Rena Dmitriev wants vengeance.

When Storm’s best friend and the friend’s wife are murdered, Storm secures a temporary appointment as Federal Marshal so he can capture the killers. He follows them to twenty one year old Rena’s home, which is in flames when he arrives. She has survived by following her elderly husband’s strict instructions and watched in hiding while the men murdered him. Storm intends to take her to the nearest town where she will be safe. She can identify the men who killed the person who had been her husband in name only and like a grandfather to her, and she vows to kill at least one of them. Whether or not Storm allows her to accompany him, she assures him she will go after the murderers. She is the only person alive who can identify the evil foursome whose policy has been to leave no witnesses. Storm agrees to take her with him. She’ll be safer with him to protect her than she would riding alone.

As a powerful and passionate love blossoms, they unite to rescue three orphaned children, fight the elements, and encounter the killers. Will their love be enough to protect them?

And here is an excerpt from THE MOST UNSUITABLE COURTSHIP:

She emerged from the brush straightening her trousers and shoving her pistol back into her waistband. “Where do you think those men are going?”

“Indian Territory. They’ll steal all they can before they reach the Red River and leave no survivors to identify them. They’re selling off the stolen stock along the way, so that will slow them some.” He wondered if she knew how to use the gun.

“But I saw their faces.”

He sent her what he hoped was a frightening stare. “If they knew that, you’d be dead for sure.”

She shivered, but glared at him. “Do not think to frighten me. I will do everything I can to kill these men and reclaim my gold and my mother’s locket. It is not that I care about the jewelry that once belonged to Abram’s wife. But to him, it meant a great deal, and I want it because he gave it to me.”

Storm wanted to shake her. Not that he hadn’t lived all his life with stubborn women. At least his oldest sister Pearl made sense. He’d worried about shy Sarah, especially when she’d appeared head over heels with a con man. Now that Sarah and Nate were married, she had life figured out. Nate had surprised everyone, even himself. Storm suppressed a smile and worked up his anger again at his traveling companion.

“We can be in Llano by nightfall. We’ll get a couple of rooms there and you can rest.”

She shot him a suspicious glare. “You think to abandon me in that town. If we stay somewhere, we will be in the same room so I can watch you.”

Shocked, Storm wondered what he could do with this woman. “We wouldn’t be allowed to stay in a decent hotel. You want to sleep over a saloon? Besides that, folks will be shocked when they see you in those trousers. You want people to think you’re a fallen woman?”

With her chin raised, she placed her hands on her hips. “I am a good woman. You can tell them we are married and I wear britches to ride more easily.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “I have a wedding band, see?”

He raised his hands and backed up a step. “Oh, no. I’m not even pretending to be married. If I were ready to marry, which I’m not, I’d pick a woman who knew when to let a man do his job.”

“Ha, and when I recover my dowry, I will marry a man who knows a woman can do as much as a man.”

He swept a formal bow. “And when you marry, will you be wearing the lovely gown you now wear?”

She appeared angry enough to use that Colt on him. “You are wrong to…to talk so. I do not have the English words to tell you what I think, but do not try to leave me behind. If you do, I will go after the men alone.”

Disgusted, Storm stomped over and retrieved the horses. “Then let’s go.”

They rode into Llano in late afternoon. Since they arrived mid week, the town appeared peaceful and quiet. Storm spotted a hotel by the livery he remembered.

“If you’re determined to stick to me like glue, let’s stable the horses.”

At the stable, she staggered when she dismounted and he thought she might fall. He grabbed her arms. “Steady. You’re not used to riding so long.”

“Ja, my legs do not work so well. Do not worry, I will be fine in a minute.”

She remained quiet while he dealt with the hostler and insured his rifle and saddle would be safe. He threw his saddlebags over his shoulder and retrieved the two pillowcases and box he’d tied to the saddle pommel. They ambled the block toward the hotel.

He indicated a mercantile. “Just what we need. After we get our room, let’s head for that store before it closes. You probably need to replace a few things that burned.” When she glared at him, he added, “I’ll give you the money, all right? I don’t want folks thinking my wife runs around in men’s clothes. If anyone gets nosy, tell them you lost your bag crossing a river.”

She sniffed and sashayed as if she wore a ball gown instead of ill-fitting men’s trousers. “I will keep track and repay you when I kill those men.”


THE MOST UNSUITABLE COURTSHIP is available online in print and e-book.

The Amazon link is

My April 18 release will be GABE KINCAID, Kincaids book 4. Please watch for it.

Lyn, thanks for hosting me as your guest today.




Margie-Rule # 1: Never Take Any Word for Granted

Margie Lawson Words of Wisdom on Writers in the Storm

Writers In The Storm Blog

Hot News Flash!  Multi multi Margie Grad, Laura Drake, has just been announced as a double RITA Finalist (for those who don’t know, that’s the Oscars for Romance)!  See what a little Margie can do?

 By Margie Lawson

A big THANK Margie LawsonYOU to Laura Drake and Fae Rowen for inviting me on WITS , and hugs to Sharla for loading it on the blog.

Do you watch NCIS?

I love giving my brain a weekly dose of NCIS. Millions of others love the show too. The stories are intriguing. The characters are deep and quirky. And Jethro Gibbs, aka Mark Harmon, has rules.

Gibbs has lots of rules. Over 50 rules.

I’m spinning-off Margie-Rules from Gibbs’ rules. My next fifteen (or fifty) blogs will feature a different Margie-Rule.

I appreciate the NCIS writers for their award-winning writing, and for giving Gibbs rules.

Gibbs’ Rule # 8: Never take anything for granted.

View original post 1,389 more words

Monday Author Meetup: Cheri Kay Clifton & the Wheels of Destiny


About the author:

I’m happy to welcome terrific author Cheri Kay Clifton. Cheri is married to her high school sweetheart and has one son in the U.S. Air Force. She and her hubby, both retired, divide their time between Florida and North Carolina. When Cheri isn’t riding on the back of her husband’s motorcycle, she’s writing Book 3 in her Wheels of Destiny Trilogy.

Cheri says:

Thanks, Lyn, for having me on your blog. I’m so proud to be included in the Anthology, Rawhide N’ Roses, saddling up with a wonderful group of other western romanceR&R 2nd revise authors.

I loved researching the history of my hometown, Kearney, Nebraska, known as the gateway to the Oregon Trail. My passion for those brave pioneers and Native Americans led me to write, Book 1, Trail To Destiny.

In addition, I have lots of notebooks filled with story ideas and characters just waiting for me to breathe life into them, so I had no problem choosing my hero and heroine for my short story, Destiny’s Kiss. I’ve never written a time-travel before and thought this was a good opportunity to try my hand at it. Hope our short story readers like it!

Destiny’s Kiss

by Cheri Kay Clifton


Mackenzi Lane gave up her life in the present to find her destiny in the past.


What in the hell just happened!

Kenzi’s heart pounded inside her chest. Unable to focus, she felt an aura of numbness sweep through her body. Frightened and dizzy, she staggered away from the cheval mirror and collapsed into an armchair.

She shook her head, desperately trying to gather her thoughts as she glanced around the room that wasn’t the attic. Across from her stood a dressmaker’s form, beside it a treadle sewing machine. On the tabletop next to her was a kerosene lamp, a magazine laid beside it. Kenzi read the heading: Godey’s Lady’s Book, New Fashions for Spring, 1884.

She turned and faced the upright mirror again. Her reflection stared back at her just as it had a minute ago … the hair rose on the back of Kenzi’s neck … before she had stepped through the glass. Damn! This has to be a dream.

The loud clopping of horse’s hooves drew Kenzi’s attention to a large front window. Outside a carriage passed by followed by two men on horseback. A couple walked by, their steps resounding on what must have been a wooden boardwalk.

Maybe she was hallucinating? Damn sure not a hangover this time. She’d given up drinking and partying when she’d given up dating.

Been watching too many westerns on TV, gal! Either that or getting too involved in American history research with her students. She laughed, certain she’d awaken and once again be sifting through the antiques she’d discovered in the attic of the house she’d rented.

She closed her eyes and eased back in the chair, waiting for the dream to fade and reality to take hold.

Find Rawhide ‘n Roses (A Western Romance Anthology) here:

Amazon                                      Barnes and Noble

Horshoe, cactus, stetson & horse divider

Wheels of Destiny, Book I: A turbulent cross-country journey of heated-passion, bitter vengeance, and a haunted past lead Grey Wolf and Laura on their …Trail To Destiny.



Laura reveled in the exhilaration of riding Sonny at a full run. The wind whipped past her face and threatened to pull her long hair from its combs. Laughing, she stole a glance behind her. Lucky rode fast at her heels, his blue roan about to overtake the Morgan.

“Laura, stop!” Lucky yelled. He leaned over and grabbed her reins, yanking both horses to a jolting halt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she railed.

Lucky raised an arm and pointed. “Look what’s coming down that hill. The way you were riding, you’d have been on top of them.”

“Oh, my stars, is that … are they …” Her heart lurched with a giddy flutter. “Indians?”

Lucky squinted his eyes. “Cheyenne, I’d say.”

Three Indians made their way down the slope, their horses’ legs completely hidden in the tall, swaying grass. A riderless horse trailed behind the leader.

Lucky twisted in the saddle and looked back. “Here comes Dan. He’s good at parleying with the Indians. Knows how to use their sign language.” He eyed Laura sternly. “You better go on back to the wagons.”

Laura caught the way he fingered the handle of his holstered gun while he followed their progress down the hill. “Do you think there might be trouble?”

“Ain’t enough of them to take on a whole wagon train, so it’s not likely. Then again, you never know what goes through those savages’ minds. They’re not exactly pleased with us tramping over their hunting grounds.”

Laura gripped the reins tighter, restraining Sonny’s skittish prance as Dan halted his horse close by. “I’m surprised to see the Cheyenne this far east,” he said. From the even tone of his voice, he didn’t sound worried.

Reaching the open road, the Indians veered in their direction. “Looks like they’re pulling a travois with somebody on it.” Dan gestured with a jerk of his head. “Laura, you go on back. Lucky and I’ll see what they want. I told the folks to circle up for the night. Couple wagons need repair anyway.”

Telling Lucky to stay behind him, Dan urged his horse forward. He halted in front of the lead Indian who wore a tanned-hide shirt, heavily fringed and decorated with an elaborate design of colored beading across the shoulders and down the sleeves. More beads ran the length of his fringed leggings and covered his moccasins. A wide breastplate made of bones hung from his neck. At the end of each long, black braid of hair, two large white and black-tipped eagle feathers were tied. But it wasn’t just his colorful clothing and ornaments that marked this Indian a chieftain; more evident was the stoic pride chiseled on the Indian’s face.

Mesmerized by what she saw, Laura had no intention of turning tail and running. These weren’t some glorified pictures in a book, but real-life Indians. She eased Sonny closer, wanting to hear their conversation.

“I meet as friend,” Dan said, his English words pronounced slowly in conjunction with the movement of his hands. He waited for the Indian to indicate his acknowledgment, and then continued signing. “I lead my people north to flat river and west over mountains,” he said, lowering his hands to his sides.

Lacking any facial expression, the Indian made several motions with his hands and fingers, then spoke in what must have been his native tongue. He slid from his horse, his look indicating he expected Dan to dismount, too.

They walked past the large pinto and knelt beside the travois. The Indian continued to talk and gesture with his hands.

Lucky turned in his saddle and glared back at Laura. “Confound it, Laurie, get back to the wagon,” he said under his breath through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Laura demanded, her eyes boldly meeting his.

“Because Dan said to. It could be dangerous.”

“They don’t look dangerous,” she whispered. She stood up in her stirrups, stretching to see past the two other Indians astride their horses. “There’s someone lying on that litter. Do you suppose the person’s sick?”

Lucky frowned. “How should I know?”

Laura dismounted and started toward the travois. She’d taken only a few steps when the two Indians vaulted from their horses and leaped in front of her, their long lances braced horizontally across their bodies.

“Laurie!” Lucky jumped from his horse, grabbed her arm, and swung her around. “For God’s sake, girl, haven’t you got a lick of sense?”

“Let go!” Laura pried his fingers from her arm.

“Just where in blazes do you think you’re going?”

She turned to Dan who’d stepped around the pinto. He looked a bit bewildered, while the older Indian seemed to glare right through her. “All I want to do is take a look at him. Maybe there’s something I can do.”

Dan signed to the chief. “She means no harm. She—”

“Dan,” Laura interrupted. She tried sidestepping the two Indians, but they countered her every move. She sighed with impatience and looked between them. “Dan, why don’t you tell him I’m a nurse?”

Dan walked around the Indians whose eyes remained riveted on her. “Listen, Laura, you’ve got to understand how unusual it is for them to see a white woman …” he hesitated, frowning, “especially one with your looks, sashaying around them and speaking out like you’re doing!”

He turned to Lucky. “We could have a problem on our hands. That man lying over there is Chief Black Arrow’s son. He’s badly injured, and the Indians think white man’s medicine can heal him.”

“Then why don’t you tell the chief there might be something I can do for him?”

“It isn’t that easy. Once you touch the man, it means I’ve agreed to be responsible for what happens to him.”

“How was he injured?”

“He was mauled by a grizzly.”

Laura inhaled sharply. “My Lord, I must go to him,” she said, darting past Dan and Lucky before they could stop her.

Just as the warriors lunged for her, Black Arrow’s stern shout stopped them. Knowing she’d have to get past the chief, she cautiously stepped up to him. She pointed her thumb to the middle of her chest and said her name. Boldly determined, she pointed behind the big pinto, and then waited, her eyes seeking his for permission.

For the longest time, Black Arrow watched as the wind blew long strands of her hair about her face. Laura supposed its bright auburn color held his fascination. He reached out and fingered a lock of it. After his gaze roamed over her from head to toe, he spoke, the words rolling off his tongue in that rhythmic high-low pitch. Then he moved aside for her to pass.

Laura lowered her eyes, sensing it was the respectful thing to do. Relieved she’d met with the Indian’s critical inspection, she stepped around the pinto.

As she knelt beside the travois and looked at the man, she gasped aloud. A dark beard and mustache covered the man’s pale, white face. Long, golden-brown hair brushed the top of his shoulders with a few damp strands straying over his forehead. Nothing about him resembled an Indian except for a red-beaded band circling his head.

“Why … he’s a white man!” she exclaimed.

Keep a lookout for Book 2, Destiny’s Journey to be released soon.

Thursday Tidbits: Kitchen Appliances

I’m a day late with this but want to give you an update on our kitchen remodeling project. Hubby and I have been running from one end of Fort Worth to the other looking at appliances. We decided to go with GE. Their prices are better than many, their products are American made, and I fell in love with the new color they have out. It’s called “Slate.” Darker than stainless, it doesn’t show fingerprints, and I think it will really pop next to the light countertops we’re planning on. Here’s a picture of the fridge and dishwasher, which are being delivered today.

Fridge and dishwasher

And not a minute too soon! Our current machines are on their last legs. The fridge is at least twenty years old. We’ve had it repaired twice, the last time only a few months ago, and now it’s giving us trouble again. The dishwasher isn’t that old but it’s not cleaning the way it should anymore. We could get it repaired, of course, but we decided if we’re going to change out everything else, we might as well go whole hog and get a new dishwasher.

We have two different remodelers coming out today and tomorrow to show us drawings of possible kitchen layouts. We’re anxious to see their ideas and decide who to hire. Both of the guys seem very nice. Knowing me, it’s going to be difficult choosing between them.

That’s it for now. Wish me luck when it comes decision time!

Monday Author Meetup: Susan Hornell & Wearin’ o’ the Green

St. Pat's day

My friend Susan Horsnell is here to celebrate with us, so grab a pint of green beer and relax while she tells us about the short story she wrote for Rawhide ‘n Roses (A Western Romance Anthology.) 

Susan Horsnell

HI Lyn and friends. We’re all Irish today, aren’t we.

I grew up in Sydney, Australia but as the wife of a Naval Officer, have lived overseas as well as in most Australian States. I retired from nursing 4 years ago after a career that spanned 35 years. I had always had a yearning to write and decided it was time to get the stories out of my head and onto paper. From there I just hoped my stories were interesting and well written enough to attract readers.

It is difficult being a new author now that anyone can publish a book. I can understand readers’ reticence to read Indie authors but hopefully they will give people like me a chance. I find you can be pleasantly surprised most of the time. I can’t imagine sticking to just one or two authors and just because an author has a publisher doesn’t make them good. I have certainly read some terrible books which have been published by some of the largest companies.

I am privileged to be a part of Rawhide and Roses amongst the very best of Western Romance Authors. Here’s a glimpse of my short story.

Petticoat Patrol

by Susan Horsnell


When a Rancher has only four daughters, it is their job to help their father manage the property.


“Sissy, for heaven’s sake. Stop that damn wagon!” Lily screeched at the top of her voice. She crouched low over her galloping mare’s neck, reins in one hand and mane grasped in the other. As she drew alongside the wagon, which carried her sisters, she stood up in the stirrups and yelled again. “Stop that wagon now or so help me…”

Melissa, also known as Sissy, pushed her feet down hard to balance as she pulled back hard on the bay gelding’s reins. They all drew to a stop.

Lily lifted the hat from her head and swiped impatiently at the sweat on her brow. It was so hot she thought, if the damn dog was chasing the cat, they’d both be walking. “Why didn’t you stop when I called out?”

“How am I supposed to hear you with the sound of Buck’s hooves and these two tittering in my ear?” Sissy retorted.

The ‘two’ she referred to, as she flung her arm in the air, were their sixteen year old twin sisters – Amy and Emily. They had just discovered the appeal of two local boys and had been excitedly chattering.

“Why are you here, anyways? You’re supposed to be helpin’ Ma put a basket of food together. We gotta spend the night out with Pa watchin’ for rustlers and you know we get hungry.” Sissy pouted. She hated it when she thought her big sister was sent to watch over her. At eighteen years old she felt she was more than capable of doing things without being ‘chaperoned’.

Wow, Susan! You sure know how to whet a reader’s appetite!

Three Shamrocks

Purchase Rawhide ‘n Roses on these sites: 

Amazon                           Barnes & Noble

Find Susan here:


Last Day to Vote

Sorry to pester y’all, but today is the last day to vote for Dearest Irish in the Rone Awards, American Historical category.

You can vote on the site:

Or by email, stating the book title, author and category:

Please tweet and share for me. Your help is much appreciated!

Lyn Horner

Rawhide ‘n Roses Launches!

Ladies and Gents,

Saddle up your horses and head out to the heart of the Wild West in this collection of short love stories by authors of Western Romance from all over the United States and around the world.

Whether your passion is historical or contemporary, there’s something inside for everyone. Grab your favorite drink, sit back and enjoy!

Gold Mountain by Alison Bruce

There’s more than one way to mine for gold, as May Travers well knows, and Marshal Ben Jessup is about to find out.



A Gentle Touch by Celia Yeary

Adam Taylor knows how to tame mustangs with a gentle touch, but would the same method calm a frightened, abused woman?



A Midnight Clear by Simone Beaudelaire

A lonely widow finds a new opportunity for love during an icy Christmas in modern-day Wyoming.





Houston McClintock by Caroline Clemmons

Houston McClintock is on his way home when an attack by vicious robbers redirects his life onto a surprising path to love and fulfillment.


Marrying Jenna by Charlene Raddon

Branch McCauley and Jenna Leigh-Whittington’s wedding day arrives at last, so why is Jenna riding hell-bent out of town wearing her wedding dress and a gun belt? Something’s up, and it doesn’t look good. Will the wedding ever take place?


Connie’s Gift by Rain Trueax

The gift of second sight, which Connie no longer believes she possesses, becomes a deadly threat to her and the man she loves.



Stable Hands, Stable Hearts by Chad Strong

When 17yr old Scott thinks he spots the girl of his dreams, will his feelings for her distract him from winning?



Gunslinger’s Angel by Margaret Tanner

Gunslinger Cal Devereaux is saved by an angel, but is she a heavenly creature or a warm blooded woman?





Petticoat Patrol by Susan Horsnell

When a man has no son, he calls on his daughters to help protect his ranch.



When Love Arrives by Carol A. Spradling

A stowaway’s past and future collide on the Santa Fe Trail.



Bluffing the Marshal by Paty Jager

Nellie Preston not only wants to keep her brother from hanging, she wants to become the marshal’s wife.




The Lawman’s Lady by Lyn Horner

A prickly schoolmarm sets a handsome lawman’s teeth on edge until the day he starts to wonder what she’d look like without her specs and with her hair down.


Yellowstone Proposal (A Yellowstone Romance Series Short Story) by Peggy L. Henderson

Willing to face dangers only told in legends, Evan risks everything to find the woman who captured his heart.



Much Ado about Misfires (A Hearts of Owyhee short-short story) by Jacquie Rogers

A cowboy on rollerskates and an old flame with a new beau—can Reuben lasso the woman he loves?


Destiny’s Kiss by Cheri Kay Clifton

She gave up life in the present to find her destiny in the past.


Want to read more? Available now from:

Amazon  and  Barnes & Noble   Coming soon to other popular outlets.