Spotlight: To Save a Savage Scot by Tamara Gill

Kenzie Jacobs is fascinated by a portrait of the roguish Highlander, Black Ben, which hangs in her ancestral home. There’s a mystery surrounding his death, and Kenzie longs to solve it by traveling through time to 17th century Scotland—and perhaps meet the gorgeous laird who haunts her dreams. 

Black Ben, Laird of Ross, suited his dark name more than ever since his wife died in childbirth. He has vowed never to marry again. But Kenzie is an intoxicating elixir and even more potent than whiskey. As confusing and crazy as she may seem, he can’t get her out of his system. But there’s no way they can ever work, as she does not fit into his plans. 

Fate has brought them together, and Ben can’t stop Kenzie from returning to her time, though he would do anything–except marry her–to keep her with him. Kenzie has a life to get back to but leaving her favorite, though infuriating, Highlander behind, might be the toughest thing she’ll ever have to do. 

Excerpt

His contemplative gaze raked over her form, and she shivered. What was it about this man that made her react in such a way? For a start, he stank, seemed to be an alcoholic, and was nosy, to boot.

Dismissing her stupid reaction, Kenzie concentrated on rubbing the cloth over his temples and working her way down his neck. The scattering of hair peeking through the top of his shirt gave her pause, and she wondered if he was overly hairy or just a little as she preferred. No one wanted to sleep with a bear, after all.

“A relative of both of theirs, eh?” He groaned and rolled to his side, forcing her off the chair. “A bucket. Quickly, lass.”

“Oh my God, seriously?” Kenzie looked about the room, and spying a peat bucket beside the fire, she tipped the little bricks of peat onto the ground and raced back to his side.

Great heaving and the sound of a lot of whisky coming up filled the room for the next few minutes, along with a smell that Kenzie never wanted to experience again.

Rinsing the cloth, she passed it to him when he seemed to be finished and watched as he wiped his mouth and chin.

“You’re very pretty lass, and very similar to my Gwen.”

The word ‘my’ wasn’t lost on her, nor did she like hearing it. “Gwen isn’t yours, sir. And I don’t care if you find me pretty or I remind you of Gwen. You, sir, are a sickly drunk who doesn’t have any respect for his own wellbeing.”

It was his turn to look stunned. “Sickly drunk? I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but those two terms have never been two of them. Perhaps you ought—”

Kenzie held up her hand. “I don’t want to ‘ought’ anything. All I wish is to get you better so you may leave and get on with ruining your own life, which, if your appearance here this evening is any indication, you’re quite on the road to doing. Laird indeed…”

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About Tamara Gill

Tamara is an Australian author who grew up in an old mining town in country South Australia, where her love of history was founded. So much so, she made her darling husband travel to the UK for their honeymoon, where she dragged him from one historical monument and castle to another.

A mother of three, her two little gentleman in the making, a future lady (she hopes) and a part-time job keep her busy in the real world, but whenever she gets a moment’s peace she loves to write romance novels in an array of genres, including regency, medieval and time travel.

Connect: Website | Twitter: @Tamara_Gill | Facebook: tamara.gill.author | Street Team

Spotlight: Songlines by Carolyn Denman

We belong to the Earth, Lainie-Bug. We were sent here in human form for a reason. If you don’t know what to do, then just be human.

 Right. Like that was ever a simple thing to do.

In the heart of the Wimmera region of Australia, an ancient gateway is kept hidden and safe by a creature so powerful that even the moon would obey her commands – at least it would if she had any idea that she wasn’t just a normal girl about to finish high school.

When a mining company begins some exploratory sampling near Lainie’s sheep farm, a family secret is revealed that makes her regret not having learned more about her heritage.

 What she’s told by their farm hand, Harry, can’t possibly be true, but then the most irritating guy in class, Bane, begins to act even more insane than ever, until she can no longer deny that something very unusual is going on.

When Harry doesn’t return from his quest to seek help to protect the area from the miners, Lainie sets out to discover the truth of her heritage, and of the secret she’s been born to protect.

No History To Speak Of: A teaser to Sympath

The envelope fell to the floor, ignored in favour of its contents. George Durante let his eyes blur, feeling his heart thud against his ribs, but when he focussed his vision again, the numbers on the letter in front of him hadn’t changed. Must be a mistake. Too many digits. He opened the locked file behind the till, flicking through the files to ‘D’ and drew out the valuation certificate he’d arranged weeks ago. Fingers that had been trained to remain steady while setting the tiniest of jewels, trembled just a little as he laid the certificate next to the letter on the counter. His cousin’s signature embellished the certificate with inked promise, clearly stating that the gemstone was worth $28,400. Jimmy had never been wrong or unreliable with his valuations. George trusted him. That figure seemed right for a ruby of that size and clarity, and the client had been very tempted to part with it for that price, although she had denied it, and left his shop muttering that she would never sell her husband’s wedding gift. He was not one to push, and after eleven years of working in Nalong, he knew he didn’t need to. Mrs Doolan would be back once the bank sent another foreclosure notice for her farm.

She’d need a lot more than $28,400 to solve their financial problems though, which was why George had asked his cousin to send out a few extra enquiries. He’d hoped that some of his family contacts might have yielded a better offer for her. If he could find a buyer willing to pay a bit extra for the gem, she might just be able to tip the balance with the bank. Just enough to hold them off for another season. Just long enough for the rains to return.

The ruby was stunning. It had been a joy to work with when Geoff Doolan had brought it to him eight years earlier. George had polished the stone, bringing out its deep crimson shine the way blood returns to chilled fingers when you rub warmth back into them. And the setting Geoff had requested suited it perfectly. A heart-shaped 8.17 carat ruby, just under 12mm diameter, cradled by golden angel’s wings – the ideal wedding gift for a girl named Ruby. The piece was pretty enough to sell for well above its value if he found the right buyer, and according to the letter he’d just received, it had apparently attracted someone’s attention.

George picked up the typed, unsigned letter again and almost lowered his magnifying glasses from his forehead to examine it, as if he could pick out the flaw by staring at the ink more closely. His extended family in Melbourne had some…dubious contacts. Could he trust this? Celarsi Holdings. Never heard the name before, but he also knew better than to pry into it. If they wanted to offer that much for the necklace, then he should do his job and arrange the transaction. Just how much of a cut should he take? The valuation certificate was genuine, as far as he could tell. Jimmy wouldn’t risk his reputation by faking it, but it had taken longer than expected to receive it. Had the gem been sent for a second opinion? If so, he hadn’t been advised of the result – no, he couldn’t think too hard about those implications. Ruby Doolan wouldn’t know how much he was selling it on for. He genuinely wanted to help her, but this was business, and there was nothing legally wrong with buying her jewellery at whatever price she was willing to agree to. If some rich lady had fallen in love with the necklace after seeing the photos he’d sent, and wanted to play games with her husband’s money, that was not for him to judge.

His hand hovered over the receiver for a few seconds before he picked it up and dialled.

‘Hello, Ruby Doolan? This is George from Durante Diamonds. I’ve been thinking about your situation and I’d like to help. I’ve been studying the current market and I believe I’m in a position to be able to offer you a slightly better price than the certified valuation. Is there a convenient time we can meet to discuss it?’

***

She’d crossed a line, for better or worse. There was no going back. Old paint flakes nicked at Ruby’s fingers as she gripped the metal gate, left over from a time when the gate had been decorated as the entrance to the home paddock. Now it had been recycled to replace yet another damaged sheep yard. Too many makeshift repairs. It had gone on for too long but that would change now. Ruby’s fingers drifted to the base of her throat again, searching for treasure… and meeting nothing but sweat. She never used to take it off, not even for the heaviest of farm jobs. Never once had she worried about losing it because she would have noticed in an instant if its comforting weight had disappeared. Her wedding gift. The promise and reminder of the connection she had to a land that she’d never seen. Her most precious possession, sacrificed, replaced with a few vital bank documents and a hundred skinny sheep that didn’t seem to appreciate the abundance of their new home.

She prodded another wanderer with her foot, guiding it back through the gate to follow the others. The animal’s piteous bleating filled her ears with mourning. She was tempted to scream at the creatures to move. Didn’t they understand what she’d given up to be able to buy them? So they could crop at the sweet autumn pasture and fatten and grow?   Start eating, she wanted to growl. Eat yourselves silly. Grow and thrive and make new lambs so we can recoup your cost and get back on our feet. You owe me. Instead she remained silent, and listened to the bleating rebuke of each animal as they passed by her worn-out boots. Even their gentle golden eyes seemed filled with condemnation. The guilt felt like acid in her chest. Her wedding gift. Gone. Who was she? Was she the woman who valued money over her husband’s gifted heirloom? Or was she the woman who would give up her prized possession to secure her family’s financial future? To ensure her son would retain custody of the land they were all bound to? Guilt was a healthy thing. It helped guide a person’s choices. But what if both choices led to sickening guilt? What then?

Ruby felt his eyes on her. Geoff was well behind her, coaxing the last of the stock into the chute for tagging, but she felt his presence as clearly as if she was looking right at him. Was he watching her with the same disappointed expression as the sheep? Disappointment and regret. She could handle those. She could take his admonition and bundle it in as part of the sacrifice she had offered for the sake of her duty. Except that admonition was not what she saw in her husband’s eyes these days. Instead, she saw her own guilt reflected there. He felt responsible. As if he should have done more to keep the finances from tearing at their sacred ties.

As the last ewe trotted through the gateway, Ruby hoisted the sagging gate and closed it. She turned to face her husband but Geoff wasn’t looking at her at all. His eyes were on the hills to the west, clearly lost in thoughts of a simpler world. A world where the word ‘foreclosure’ didn’t exist. Ruby Doolan lifted her chin. That word didn’t exist here either. Not on this farm. Not while she had a say in it. Two guilts to choose from. She had rejected one, and embraced the other. Embraced and swallowed it down to swirl as acid in her chest until it had become something more than guilt. Something far less healthy. Shame.

***

Ruby had never heard the two of them argue before. They were terrible at it. Someone should show them how it was done. Maybe they should spend more time with her aunts and uncles. Uncle Willie could show Geoff a thing or two about how to properly dig his heels in. Ruby was tempted to intervene, but since the whole situation was her fault, it would only make things worse. So instead she waited among the sugar gum saplings, watching her husband and his best friend bickering as they paced along the riverbank. They hadn’t noticed her arrive – too caught up in their mutual fretting.

‘We have to get it back, Geoff. It feels wrong.’ Kiah was twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

Geoff rolled his shoulders back, easing the tight muscles in his neck. ‘How? Even if they returned my calls, it’s unlikely they’d agree to sell it back to me. And if they did, how would I pay for it? Our debts might be back to a manageable level now, but that doesn’t mean the bank would be stupid enough to lend us more. Especially not for buying jewellery. What would you have me do, Kiah? Sell the farm?’

Their neighbour paused to glare at him for a moment, and then resumed pacing. ‘That can never happen. We’ll find another way. Ruby should have found another way.’

‘She did. It was a logical solution. You need to stop blaming her for doing her job.’

‘Her job? Her job is to keep you safe so you can do yours. Your job – and mine – is to not let things like this happen! That gem doesn’t belong here. I’ve never been comfortable with her wearing it out in public, let alone sending it out into the world. We need to get it back.’

‘Why?’

Kiah stopped and put her hands on her hips. Her ponytail kept swinging as if it couldn’t stop its own agitated pacing. It reminded Ruby of a cat’s tail, announcing Kiah’s irritation to any who would dare to argue with her.

‘What do you mean, “why?” Its origins are not Earthly. Who knows what trouble it could cause? What if people come searching for more rubies?’

There was no reply from Geoff. His lips parted and he watched Kiah with an avid expression, as if he was waiting for her to do something.

She frowned, leaning away from him. ‘What’s that look for?’

Geoff sighed. ‘Nothing. No one’s likely to come looking for more. I made certain Mr Durante knew the gem had been in my family for generations. Then I reminded him that not all of my family have First Nations heritage. He would have assumed I was telling him the ruby had come from distant family in Europe.’

‘You lied?’ Kiah laughed. ‘Really?’

‘Technically, no. But what difference does it make? We lie all the time, Kiah. Our main purpose in life is to deceive people.’

‘That doesn’t mean it suits you.’

‘Probably not, but I’m pretty good at it. I managed to deceive George Durante without using an outright lie that could be caught out. Just like you’re deceiving Anthony’s family into believing you actually intend to move out of Nalong to live closer to them.’

Kiah looked away from his challenging gaze, her eyes drifting instead to the water flowing past them. ‘That was Anthony’s idea. Not mine. It isn’t going to end the way he thinks it will. Chances are it will push them further away, not bring them closer. How am I supposed to argue against his sanguine attitude? He always believes everything will work out fine. “All will be well”. He’s the most laidback Guardian I’ve ever known. Total opposite to your Guardian who seems to think you need protecting even when you’re just chatting to your neighbour down by the river.’ Her next words were louder. ‘Do you really think we don’t know you’re here, Ruby?’

She should have known. Proximity to the river always seemed to heighten Cherubim senses.

‘I just didn’t want to interrupt. I wanted to see who won. I think Geoff came the closest. He almost had you believing it, Kiah.’ Ruby stepped out from the tree line and approached them, one hand almost straying to the empty place on her neck before she caught herself.

‘Believing what?’

‘That magicking my necklace back was necessary to protect Eden.’

With a groan, Kiah stepped off the rock she was balancing on and plunged waist-deep into the icy river. ‘If only those tales were true,’ she said, before splashing her face and hair. She didn’t look at all uncomfortable. As if the river were a warm bath she’d been looking forward to. ‘Then I could just hold out my hand and command the necklace to land in it.’ She held her arm out, palm up, with an expectant look on her face. Nothing happened.

‘Then what?’ Geoff asked, turning his back on her splashing and apparently not interested in her answer. Instead he took Ruby’s hand and started walking backwards, playing his favourite game. He locked his gaze on her and walked faster. Backwards. Right towards a bunch of uneven river stones. Ruby’s jaw clenched, and she tried to look away. He was going to trip, roll his ankle and then land on his arse. She was supposed to stop him. Don’t be afraid, his brown eyes assured her as they kept walking. All will be well.

It wasn’t. He tripped, and Ruby took over the dance, reflexes kicking in to take his weight before his sideways foot could touch the ground. She twisted. He laughed, and relaxed into her care. It was all over in a moment. He was standing, supported by her arms locked around his waist as if she was ready to pick him up altogether. With a kiss, he convinced her to relax her grip.

‘Monster,’ she called him.

‘You never let me fall,’ he said. ‘Just once, don’t you think it might be fun to fall?  Together? A tangle of limbs and bumping collarbones?’

With a dubious look at the tumbled river stones at their feet, Ruby let out a short laugh. ‘Sure. Then I can heal you while you carry me back to the house with my two broken ankles. So romantic.’

‘Or I could just carry you back to the house anyway. Where’s Harry?’

‘Last I saw, he and Annie were stocking their hidden cubby under the back porch with snacks and comic books.’

‘Snacks? So they might not come out for hours.’

Ruby felt a warm flutter in her belly at the look in her husband’s eyes. Almost enough to dislodge the guilt. Almost. Until the warm flutter was replaced with an icy splash.

Kiah grinned at them both as she splashed them again. ‘Go on then, Geoff. Pick her up and carry her up the hill, all the way to the house. You sound romantic, and Ruby weighs practically nothing, but I’d love to watch you try to make it the whole way without dropping her on her head.’

‘What a humiliating end to a Guardian’s life,’ Ruby said. ‘Being dropped on my head.’

Of course, then Geoff had to prove to them both that he was manly enough to make it up the hill with her hoisted over his shoulder. Not so romantic, but fun enough to distract all three of them from the unformed compulsions that buzzed in the roots of their teeth.

 

***

 

The barking from the aged blue heeler echoed off the tin machinery shed as the sedan crunched to a halt on the loose gravel. Ruby rubbed her elbows to sooth a prickle of apprehension. Geoff was in the shed, searching the dusty shelves for the right sized ratchet-head she’d asked for so she could fix the hot water service. Harry was in the kitchen, doing what all nine-year-old boys do an hour before lunch – hunting for snacks.

A stocky man in a business suit emerged from the sedan, tossing his sunglasses on the driver’s seat. He appeared to be in his thirties, with dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a strong jawline that spoke of Italian descent. The man gave the yard a quick appraisal, and then checked his watch, a gaudy thing designed to impress clients.

Ruby met him at the front door.

‘Mrs Doolan? My name is Paul Dashner. I’ve been asked to make some enquiries on behalf of Celarsi Holdings about an item you recently sold to them. May I come in?’

Guardian instincts barred the doorway. The man wasn’t a threat, and yet he made her very uncomfortable. Whatever he had to say, he could say it where he was.

She crossed her arms. ‘My husband tried to call the company. Couldn’t even get a call back, and yet you’ve driven all the way up here from, where, Melbourne? What is it you want to know, Mr Dashner?’

The man licked his lips as if assessing her attitude before framing a reply. ‘We were advised that the ruby had been in your family for a long time. The new owner is curious about its origins. Can you tell me its history?’

A tug at her instincts told her that Geoff had emerged from the shed and was heading towards them.

‘The history of my ruby? It has no history to speak of.’

The man waited for more. His expression almost stern.

‘What am I supposed to tell you? Geoff’s father gave it to him. I don’t know exactly where it came from originally.’

Paul Dashner gave a cool smile. ‘Perhaps Geoff knows more.’

‘More about what?’ her husband asked as he stepped up onto the porch with his arms laden with tools. He dumped them at her feet like an offering to the Goddess of Broken Things.

‘Nothing. He was just leaving,’ Ruby said, stepping forward over the tools and closing the door behind her. She gestured for the man to start moving back to his car, but he ignored her.

‘Geoff Doolan? My apologies for not returning your calls. My employer is curious about the ruby you sold us. Was it mined locally?’

Geoff’s face paled and Ruby’s heart sank. This was exactly what she had repeatedly assured him wouldn’t happen. Why would they care about the origins of one ruby? It had great clarity, and excellent colour, but it wasn’t exactly a museum piece.

Her husband’s voice held no trace of the swallowed-tongue guilt she knew he felt. ‘Not locally, no.’

‘Can you tell me anything about its history? For insurance purposes, you understand. If the owner ever needs to replace it, he would like to get as close a match as possible. Even just the country it came from would be helpful information.’

‘I’m sorry, but I never asked.’ Geoff started walking to the man’s car, and Ruby followed, hoping the man would take the hint.

‘Do you have any more?’

And with those words, the air became still. Ruby stared at her husband. Geoff stopped walking, closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. His hands were clenched into fists and Ruby’s Guardian heartbeat raced to catch up to his. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the kitchen curtain twitch as her son’s concerned face looked out to see what was happening.

Everything waited. The breeze paused. The birds watched on, silent. The old dog stood, tongue hanging and eyes more alert than they had been in years, as if waiting for a command. She waited for it too. She could feel the authority in the space between air particles. The whole world was frozen in anticipation of a spoken word, a decree to tell it what to do, how it could serve.

Geoff turned, stepped up to Paul Dashner and looked him right in the eye. ‘There are no more gems. You will tell your employer not to enquire further, and you need not be afraid of his reply. There is nothing to be afraid of.’

Instead of the confusion Ruby expected in response to Geoff’s words, the business man’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled. ‘That is good news,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell him there are no more gems.’

Ruby looked on, astounded, as the man got back into his car and drove away. How long before Geoff’s influence wore off and he began to question what had just happened? Would he come back, demanding an explanation?

‘Geoff. Why would you say that? “Tell your employer not to enquire further?” You know that will only make them think we have something to hide.’

Her bonded charge turned to her and held out his right hand, still clenched into a fist. His eyes were haunted, shining with a sacred light that held both terror and beauty.

‘We do have something to hide, and I don’t know that I did the right thing,’ he whispered.

‘Well, I understand exactly how that feels,’ she said, ready to comfort him, but just as she was about to take his hand, he opened it, and she gasped.

There, resting on his palm was a ruby cradled by angel’s wings. Its light pulsed in resonance with Geoff’s heartbeat – the rhythm of his life-blood that she always felt more clearly than her own. Sunlight sparkled from the jewel like tiny secrets escaping from its core.

Yet more heavy secrets that they now had to guard with their lives.

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About the Author

Carolyn Denman writes speculative fiction for adults and young adults. She has written short stories for Aurealis and Andromeda Spaceways magazines. The third novel in her Sentinels of Eden series is due for release by Odyssey Books in 2018.  Carolyn lives on a hobby farm on the outskirts of Melbourne with her husband, two daughters, her parents and far too many pets. Co-housing is the future though, right?

Somehow, her science degree and work in the finance industry have equipped her to write great science-fiction while still making sure her protagonists can always meet their mortgage repayments.

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Spotlight: My Freshman Year of Fabulous by Jennifer DiGiovanni

When Avery Thornton needs to escape a first day of school disaster, she ducks into an equipment room to hide and meets someone else who’s also having a really bad day. Eli Fields just got demoted to third string on the football team, a sport he doesn’t even really want to play. On the hunt for a dance partner before her competition season begins, Avery discovers Eli’s secret, non-football life outside of school. She thinks he could be the dance partner she’s dreamed about. But Eli wants no part of dancing with Avery. When someone else steps in as Avery’s partner for competitions, she and Eli begin practicing steps “just for fun.”

But, is that really all that Eli wants? And although Avery has found a perfect partner, she’s learning that perfection doesn’t necessarily equal happiness.

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About the Author

Jennifer DiGiovanni is a freelance writer and YA author of the School Dayz series. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading, working on home design projects, or trying to meet the daily goals on her Fitbit. She also likes to try new sports and activities, from archery to ballroom dancing, with varying degrees of success. 

Connect: Twitter: @JenniferDiGiov2 | Facebook | Goodreads | Website

Spotlight: Fearless in Texas by Kari Lynn Dell

He’d step in front of a bull to save a life
But even he’s no match for a girl this Texas tough

Rodeo bullfighter Wyatt Darrington’s got it all figured out. The perfect car, the perfect job, the perfect looks—the perfect lie. He may be on the fast track to the Hall of Fame, but he knows he’ll always be an outsider to people like Melanie Brookman. Texas-born and bred, with the arena in her blood, Melanie’s come to see Wyatt as her personal enemy, and that suits him just fine—this way, she’ll never realize the truth.

He’s been crazy in love with her for years.

Melanie’s always been a fighter. Fiercely independent and tough as nails, she’s stood up to everything that got in her way—including Wyatt. But now her infamous temper’s got her on the ropes, and there’s nowhere left to run but toward the man she swore she’d never trust…and this time, there’s no denying just how hot he makes her burn.

Excerpt

Wyatt braced a hand on the front door of the Bull Dancer Saloon, blocking Melanie. “You can’t go back in there.”

She looked at his arm as if debating whether she should bite it or snap it in half. “You think you can stop me?”

“Yes.” He jerked a thumb toward the door and quoted the flyspecked sign posted inside. “I am the proprietor, and we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”

Hell. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but the sparks that were flying off of her were burying themselves under his skin, kindling fires that threatened to reduce all of his good intentions to ashes. Her mouth dropped open, and he braced himself for some truly spectacular swearing. Instead, she snapped it shut, whirled around, and strode away, her shiny red heels clicking angrily on the empty street.

“Melanie…wait! Could we just talk—”

Her answer was a stiff middle finger shot straight in the air. He took a couple of steps in pursuit, but his ankle made it clear that anything above a sedate stroll was a bad idea, not that he was sure what he’d do if he caught her. Attempting to stop her when she was like this would be like tackling a mountain lion, but if she intended to go to one of the other bars, she was headed the wrong direction.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bridge. It’ll have to do, since I assume you’ll follow me and there’s not a cliff handy.”

He’d already taken several more steps, but he stopped. “The rail is too high.”

“Then I’ll knock you over the head with a rock and roll you off the dike.”

She wouldn’t. Would she? “If you’re going to commit assault and attempted murder, you’ll need your keys to make your getaway.”

She stopped dead and spun around. He held up the keys in one hand and the purse in the other.

She swore and started back toward him. “Don’t think I won’t kick you square in the nuts and stomp on your fingers when you fall.”

“Not a doubt in my mind.” He unlocked the door that led up to her apartment, yanked it open, and threw both the keys and the purse to the top of the stairs before she could reach him. Then he stepped back, feet braced, ready to dodge or deflect any blow aimed at his groin. If Melanie had said it, she was seriously considering it.

She went for the door instead, but paused with her hand on the knob. “If I go in after them, you won’t let me out.”

“Nope.” Although it would take all his strength to hold the door shut if she was determined to push it open, and there was the fire escape…

Her hand dropped, and she turned on him. If it were possible for a stare to be literally cutting, his guts would’ve fallen out onto the street. “What…the hell…is your problem?”

“You.” He gestured toward her painted face, her dress, those damn red shoes. “I know what all of that means, but you’re wrong. And if you would just let me explain—”

“Yes!” She threw her hands in the air like a Baptist preacher. “Please, oh wise and knowing male, tell me how I’m supposed to feel. Better yet, explain why it is that you could leave this place with any of those women you’ve never met before and you get high fives, but if I do the same, I’m an embarrassment to your shitty little bar.”

Despite his vow to remain calm, his temper began to stir. “I did not say—”

“You don’t have to. I grew up in the goddamn Bible Belt. I’ve heard it all my life.” The bitterness in her voice ran generations deep. “Well, sorry, but not sorry. I’m done trying to please anyone but myself. I’ll sleep with who I want, when I want, and y’all can just deal with it.”

Not likely. Wyatt’s anger boiled up, shooting past the red line and straight into fury. Yes, her rage was justified, but she did not get to lump him in with bastards like Michael and her former boss. All he’d ever wanted, from damn near the first moment they’d spoken on the phone, was Melanie, but it was as if the entire universe had conspired against him, and he was so damn tired of fighting this bone-deep need…

He took a step toward her. Then another. She didn’t budge, but her eyes flicked toward the apartment door as if reconsidering her choices.

He leaned in close, his breath fanning her cheek, his voice low and lethal even to his own ears. “Is that what you want? Just someone with a pulse you can use up and toss out when you’re done?”

He heard her swallow, but she didn’t flinch. “Why shouldn’t I? Men have been doing it forever.”

“Yes, we have.”

He gathered a fistful of her hair and wound the warm silk around and around his hand until his knuckles were pressed to the nape of her neck. Her breath caught at the electric press of skin against skin, and her eyes went even darker. The line he’d held for so long had been crossed. He was beyond stopping—unless she made him.

“As long as you’re determined to do something you’ll hate yourself for in the morning, it might as well be with me.” And then he kissed her.

And instead of shoving him away, Melanie clenched both hands in his shirt and yanked him closer.

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Kari Lynn Dell: What I Love about Rodeo

There are so many things I love about rodeo that I could—and have—filled several books (aka the Texas Rodeo series). A million tiny details like the scent of wood shavings in a horse stall, the indescribable joy of a perfectly thrown loop, or the way a belt and buckle sets off a nice pair of hips. Lately, though, I’ve come to appreciate a facet of rodeo and life on the ranch that I’ve always taken for granted: rodeo makes women stronger.

Unlike other parts of our society, in rodeo and ranching, strength is a highly prized trait in a woman—both physical and mental. From the time we are old enough to be hoisted onto a pony to trot around the arena, we are praised for being ambitious, competitive, aggressive and independent. We are valued as much for what our bodies can accomplish as we are for our appearance. I might’ve started out by catching my husband’s eye, but I captured his heart the first time he saw me sort cows.

The smart, capable, take-no-crap women of the Texas Rodeo books are products of my environment, and none more so than Melanie Brookman of Fearless in Texas. May every reader who ventures into our world steal a page from her book and leave with a little more cowgirl in their blood—and their attitude.

About the Author

KARI LYNN DELL brings a lifetime of personal experience to writing western romance. She is a third generation rancher and rodeo competitor existing in a perpetual state of horse-induced poverty on the Blackfeet Nation of northern Montana, along with her husband, son and Max the Cowdog.

Spotlight: At Woods Edge by E.M. Fitch

It’s only a matter of time before he gets what he’s come for.

Cassie Harris has turned her back on best friend Laney Blake. She had no other choice. Laney is one of them now, a creature of the trees. As Cassie’s senior year wears on, the woods grow quiet, snow blankets the ground, and the murderous beings who once taunted her have drifted away like the brittle leaves of Fall. Though the woods no longer stir with rushed whispers and wind-blown laughter, the fear remains.

No one understands this fear better than Cassie. She wishes she could tell them not to worry. After all, the shape-shifting men of the trees and the women who travel with them, seeking out girls to abduct from carnivals, are gone. And the one that stayed behind? He isn’t interested in anyone but her.

Now, Aidan’s interest in Cassie is a chilling reminder of the what lurks at woods edge. He stalks her home, her school, her bedroom. He won’t stop until he can find a way to lure Cassie into the forest to become one with him forever.

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About the Author

E. M. Fitch is an author who loves scary stories, chocolate, and tall trees. Her latest novel, OF THE TREES, is a Young Adult horror/fantasy inspired by haunted cemeteries and the darker musings of W.B. Yeats. Its sequel, AT WOODS EDGE, will be released in the coming year from Month9Books. She is the author of the Young Adult zombie trilogy: THE BREAK FREE SERIES. Her story, BETWEEN SHADOWS, was recently featured in the Fragments of Darkness anthology; and her new collection of short stories entitled THE VEIL: GHOSTS, GOBLINS, GHOULS is coming soon! She has been published in Pulp Metal Magazine, Under the Bed Magazine, and her short stories RELEASE and THE CREEP were featured respectively in CHBB’s Lurking in the Shadows and Lurking in the Mind anthologies. When not dreaming up new ways to torture characters, she is usually corralling her four children, or thinking of ways to tire them out so she can get an hour of peace at night.

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Spotlight: The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth by Callie Hutton

From USA Today Bestselling Author Callie Hutton is a new captivating and suspenseful historical romance...

Recently widowed, Charlotte Pennyworth is relishing her independence and it rankles to have to rely on a man to help her with an increasingly sinister stalker. Former Yardman, Elliot Baker, is reluctant to take on Charlotte’s case but despite himself and his history with another woman, he is drawn to the bright, attractive widow.

Sparks smolder between the PI and his client but neither is looking to form an attachment. Elliot thinks Charlotte is hiding something. Charlotte has no desire to marry again, especially to a private investigator, no matter how handsome, brave and kind he is. The risk to his life and her heart is too great. But more dangerous than a menacing stalker is secrets and when Charlotte’s come to light, even the passion between them might not douse the flames of Elliot’s distrust.

Excerpt

A light rain had begun to fall when he exited the building. Elliot opened his umbrella and decided to catch an omnibus instead of walking. What he was looking forward to now was an evening in his rooms with a brandy, a warm fireplace, and thoughts of Charlotte.

Now there was a true conundrum. Truth be told, he would enjoy an evening in his rooms with a brandy, a warm fireplace, and Charlotte sitting on his lap. Curled up with her head resting on his shoulder, her plump breasts pressed against his chest. He would slowly unbutton the back of her dress and ease it off her silky-smooth shoulders.

His lips would cast feathered kisses over her neck, his teeth nipping her earlobe. Then, he would—.

The devil take it, he was hard as a rock and sweating, just thinking about her. This nonsense had to stop. She was his client, nothing more. The kisses they’d shared were an aberration. They should not have happened and would not happen again. Yes, she was a lovely woman, but she was hiding something. He sensed it, and his past experience with Annabelle made him more attuned to deception.

He hailed the omnibus and climbed aboard. The light drizzle had turned to a steady rain. Darkness had descended earlier due to the weather, and he shivered, anxious to be home in dry clothes. The horses plodded along, stopping to allow riders to alight and board the vehicle.

Eventually, the conveyance came to a stop a block from his rooms. He stepped onto the pavement and opened his umbrella. He raised the collar on his jacket, and head down against the rain, he hurried toward home. Before he even identified the sound as footsteps behind him, he was thrown to the ground, a large body landing on top of him with a grunt.

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About the Author

Callie Hutton, the USA Today bestselling author of The Elusive Wife writes both Regency and western historical romance, with “historic elements and sensory details” (The Romance Reviews). Callie lives in Oklahoma with several rescue dogs and her top cheerleader husband of many years. Her family also includes her daughter, son, and daughter-in-law. And twin grandsons “The Twinadoes.”

Callie loves to hear from readers. Contact her directly at calliehutton11@gmail.com or find her online at www.calliehutton.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive information on new releases, appearances, contests and exclusive subscriber content.

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