Spotlight: Mine to Keep by Natasha Madison

Release Date: January 5

From Wall Street Journal & USA Today bestselling author Natasha Madison comes a Small town, Enemies to lovers, Single Dad, Age Gap, Forbidden, Workplace Romance.

Grace

It wasn’t hard for me to walk away from my family without looking back—the time had come for me to live for myself.

New city. New job.

My new boss? He’s gorgeous.

It’s too bad that handsome face is wasted on such a condescending prick.

He hates me, and the feeling is mutual.

The only reason he may not be the literal devil is because he’s a devoted single dad, making it clear Caine is, in fact, capable of human emotion.

Caine

I’m good at two things:

1. Raising my daughter to be strong and independent.

2. My job.

When my new assistant walks into the office, I become good at ignoring her. She’s sassy. Smart. Beautiful.

Much younger and off-limits for more reasons than I can count.

That doesn’t mean I want her any less.

She hates me—but as each day goes by, it’s harder and harder to remember why I hate her too.

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About the Author

When her nose isn’t buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she’s in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It’s a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn’t listen to her…

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Spotlight: The Fearless One by Lori Foster

Publication Date: December 26, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

He had it all planned…until she showed up.

Jedidiah Stephens came to the Colorado Rockies for one reason: to uncover the truth behind the fire that killed her family. She’s been chasing down clues, and everything has led her to an isolated campground. Her plan is to get a job there so she can investigate who comes and goes. Getting involved with her boss, Memphis Osborn, the ruggedly handsome groundskeeper, is definitely not part of the plan.

When Jedidiah arrives on the scene, Memphis just knows she's up to something. He can see the desperation in her eyes and warily agrees to hire her. As they work side by side, Diah triggers his deepest protective instincts—and the chemistry between them ignites.

But the more Diah digs into her family’s past, the more secrets she unravels…and the more afraid she becomes. She lost everything once before. She’ll never forgive herself if now she loses Memphis, too.

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

For early April, the Colorado weather was unseasonably warm. Probably in the low sixties with enough sunshine to make it feel warmer. Jedidiah Stephens, who went by Diah for short, loosely held Tuff’s leash in the only available finger she had. Loaded down with supplies, she made her way along the rutted, occasionally muddy road leading to the budget campground.

Hard to call the miserable path an entry, though. Surely the guy who’d bought the place planned to fix it up a little before he opened in mid-May. If not, she’d see what she could do about it. At the very least, the potholes needed to be filled and everything regraveled. Otherwise, anyone pulling a camper was in for a really bumpy ride, possible damage to the undercarriage of their travel trailer, and there was a good chance they’d get stuck.

Checking the time on her phone, she saw that she was thirty minutes early. Hey, it wasn’t easy to be timely when she relied on others for her transportation. Good thing she’d found a nice woman who’d let her, her number-one guy, Tuff, and her luggage hitch a ride in the back of her pickup. Talk about getting jostled, and now she was more windblown than ever.

Not that she cared. This was the chance she needed to solve the mystery, rid herself of nagging questions and finally get on with a new, better life. Free.

Oh, how she wanted to be free.

She couldn’t change the past or stop the occasional nightmare; she understood that. But by God, she could put an end to running, and in the process forge a new future.

If she let it, excitement and even a little nervousness would take over. Ruthlessly, she tamped down those two disagreeable emotions. The owner’s brother had sent her here, so her early arrival shouldn’t be a big deal. Supposedly, she was a shoo-in for the job.

“Can’t be too much farther,” she said to Tuff, who looked up at her with a frown of concern. For real, her dog was a world-class worrier, but this time Diah had to agree with him. It was starting to feel creepy. The long road in, lined by tall aspens and pines, was plenty isolated. Other than the sounds of critters in the trees, the area was dead silent.

Don’t be such a chickenshit… You gotta toughen up… Jesus, you’re a scaredy-cat.

She’d heard those comments too many times to count. Worse than hearing them?

Knowing they were true.

To the right of her, something rustled in the underbrush—and effectively stalled her breathing. Tuff went alert, staring in that direction, then dismissed it. Almost immediately to her left, a flock of birds took flight, stripping a year off her life. Tuff sidled closer.

Automatically, she sought to reassure him, and in the process reassure herself as well because Tuff’s nervousness always became her own, and vice versa.

Putting a hand on his neck, appreciating the contact with another living creature, she gently rubbed. “Yeah, maybe I should have asked that lady to drive us right up to the campground, huh? I hadn’t figured on it being such a hike, though. His street sign should give a damn clue, right?”

Tuff looked forward and perked his ears.

“Squirrel?” she asked, because she could handle a critter. “Rabbit?” But no. She heard it now, too. Singing. And there up ahead, finally, the winding road opened to a clearing, with a small parking lot on the right and a wooden shed that served as a gatehouse and check-in station on the left. Right now the shed was empty, but it had been recently painted and looked big enough to accommodate a few people. Nearest the road was a drive-through window, so visitors wouldn’t have to get out to check in for their stay.

Thank God they’d finally reached the campgrounds. With a duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, her packed tent slung over the other, and a suitcase in her hand, her shoulders were killing her. The soft suitcase was a roller, but not on this pitted, bumpy path.

Seriously, she wished she were stronger. Wished she were braver, too.

Sometimes she wished she were someone else entirely.

As Tuff strained against the leash, he almost got away from her. Quickly readjusting her free hand, not just a few fingers, Diah said, “Quiet,” in her low command voice, and although Tuff’s furry lips rippled, he didn’t make a sound. Such a smart boy. So many times over the past two grueling years, she’d given thanks that Tuff had come into her life. He was her best friend, her protector and pretty much the only reason she ever smiled. “We’ll sort of sneak in, okay?”

A muffled, “Fft,” was Tuff’s reply. And yup, she grinned.

When she got to the check-in, Diah unloaded her belongings beside it. Looking around, she took in several small cabins that appeared newly repaired. Some trees had been trimmed, RV and tent lots were mostly cleared, but overall the grounds were a work in progress.

Straight ahead, not too far from the entry, a larger cabin—which by no means made it large—appeared to be the source of the singing. She heard, “Love me, love me, saaaay that you love me,” in a high falsetto and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, man, Tuff, do you hear that?”

“Lovefool” by The Cardigans. If she hadn’t heard it in a bar during karaoke night, she’d have no idea. The drunken chick who’d sung it then hadn’t done as good of a job as this guy. He really belted it out with gusto.

Snickering, she said to Tuff, “No time like the present,” and led him along to the cabin, around to the side and there… Ho boy.

Naked.

Using an outside shower.

Forget the warmth of the sunshine. It was freaking April in Colorado.

Thank God a concrete block half wall kept her from seeing him in all his glory, but holy moly, what he showed was enough to keep her gawking. Dude had seriously hot, muscular shoulders and flat abs… Heck, she could see the tops of his hip bones, too. It was a mighty fine display, one she hadn’t been prepared for.

Tuff sat down, maybe mesmerized. Diah’s legs were suddenly shaky enough that she wouldn’t mind sitting, too.

Lounge back and watch the show? Would’ve been nice.

Unfortunately, she was a human adult, not a dog, so she had to announce herself. She tried loudly clearing her throat, followed by a sharp “Ahem.”

Nothing.

Face turned up, he sang out another verse while rinsing shampoo from dark brown hair a few inches too long. When was the last time she’d seen anyone built like him, all firm, ropy muscles on a tall frame?

Yeah, that’d be never.

Not once in her twenty-four years had she ever encountered any guy, anywhere, who looked like this one.

Shameful to admit, but she eyeballed him a little longer before saying again, louder this time, “Ahem.”

Pausing in midverse, he cocked open one dark blue eye, framed by spiked lashes. He spotted her and at his leisure, without a hint of haste—or modesty—pushed back his wet hair and got both eyes open.

Intently watching her now, no longer singing, he…continued his shower.

What. The. Hell.

A big soapy hand went over his throat, the back of his neck, across his chest and beneath one arm.

He was so damn attractive, her heart ping-ponged around in her chest. Since he didn’t speak, she assumed she’d have to. “Hi, I’m, um…” Who was she? Oh, yeah. “Jedidiah Stephens. Appointment at three.”

Turning his back to the water, not at all put off by being caught in the buff outside, his gaze moved over her body, but quickly came back to her eyes. “I don’t have any appointments.”

She went blank for a moment before the obvious answer came to her. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Belatedly remembering that people were usually put off by her intent stare, she turned to give him privacy. But yeah, she wasn’t comfortable with anyone at her back so she shifted again, facing to the side. If he tried to leave the shower to approach her she’d catch him in her peripheral vision, but at least her gaze wasn’t directly on him. “I’m looking for Memphis Osborn.”

“He’s busy showering.”

Confusion hit her. “You’re both showering?” How… Why…? Thoughts of mud wrestling or some other sexy activity flashed through her mind. Two sweaty guys. Muscles straining…

Sucked that she’d missed it.

A gruff, short laugh came from him and he said, “You’re not seeing the big picture. I’m Memphis, I’m showering and I don’t have any appointments.”

Chagrin brought her around so that she fully faced him again. Yup, still gloriously naked. How could she not stare? “You own this place?”

Beside her, Tuff stirred. The poor dog was as tired as she was and no doubt ready to bed down somewhere for a nap.

“Guilty. As you can see, I haven’t opened yet.”

“I know the place isn’t open.” She resisted adding “Duh.” As if explaining to a little kid, she spoke slowly. “I have an appointment about a job.”

His gaze dipped over her bare legs, making her wish she’d worn jeans instead of shorts. Yeah, if only she’d had a chance to do laundry, but it wasn’t always possible on the road. His attention lingered for a mere heartbeat before returning to her face…and roaming over her every feature as if figuring out who—or what—she was. Rude!

Because she’d ogled him, too, she couldn’t really get huffy about it… The hell she couldn’t! She was fully dressed, not prancing around outside bare-assed. “Take a picture, why doncha?”

“You wouldn’t mind?” He reached for the cell phone he’d left on the top of the half wall near a folded towel. As he lifted the phone, the music that came from it abruptly died.

The sudden quiet was jarring.

He pretended to take aim.

Belatedly, she found her voice, which erupted with irritation. “Look, I was told to be here and that you’d hire me.”

“Sight unseen?” Shaking his head to deny that, he set the phone aside, turned off the water and reached for the towel—which he only slung around his neck. “I don’t think so.”

Swear to God, she could see steam rising off those impressive shoulders. Her palms tingled at the idea of touching him, maybe coasting her fingers over the swells of muscle. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“Little bit.”

Yet, he didn’t dry off. “Is there a reason you’re showering out here instead of inside somewhere?”

“Yeah.”

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. Fine, she could play this game. “Wanna share?”

Amusement tugged at one corner of his very sexy mouth. “Might as well, since you’re still here.” He made a halfhearted effort at drying himself. “I’ve been living in this cabin, which is the biggest on the grounds, but still not big enough for me.”

“Seriously?” It looked great to her.

“The shower was especially small,” he explained, “so I’m extending the back end with a larger bedroom and bathroom. It’s not quite done and until it is, I have more room out here.” He eyed her again. “Used to have plenty of privacy, too, until some girl and her dog just showed up out of the blue.”

Odd that the words were disgruntled, but the tone not so much. If anything, he seemed amused. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. After adjusting her tinted glasses, she tried on a congenial smile. “This is Tuff.”

“What is?”

“My dog. His name is Tuff.”

Glancing down, he gave a short laugh at the dog’s sleepy expression. “Hey, boy. Are you really that tough?”

“T-u-f-f,” she explained. “He came with the name when I adopted him. He’s fast, smart and super protective.” She tacked on the last just in case he wasn’t as easygoing as he seemed and had any thoughts of hassling her.

Disinterested in all the human chitchat, Tuff yawned.

“He’s also tired.” Memphis searched the area. “Where’s your car? I didn’t hear you drive in.”

“I walked.”

Skeptical, he asked, “From where?”

Right. Nowhere was near so the question made sense. “We hitched a ride in the back of a woman’s truck. She dropped us off by the camp sign.”

“The camp sign that’s a little over a mile away?”

That far? Hmm. Maybe she could garner some sympathy and that’d soften him up. “Only a mile?” To add an edge of drama, she put a hand to her back. “Felt longer with me carrying all my gear and leading the dog. I think it took me a good forty minutes.”

Lacking even an ounce of pity, he grinned. “Great exercise, right?” He turned a finger in the air. “I’m stepping out now, so unless you want your feelings hurt, you might want to turn around.”

“Why would it hurt my feelings?”

He hitched one of those big shoulders. “No idea, but you’re acting all affronted that I’m out here naked, on my own property where you shouldn’t be, showering in a place that’s none of your business, so I assumed you’d object.” After spewing that mix of nonsense and censure, he waited.

Left with no choice, she gave him the truth. “Eh, since you’re a stranger and everything, I’d prefer to keep an eye on you.”

“What a weak excuse. Admit you want to see me.”

Of all the… She folded her arms and tried to glance away. Couldn’t quite do it, though. “I won’t stare.” She wouldn’t. Her stare had gotten her into trouble too many times.

Had gotten her hurt as well. A long time ago, she reminded herself, and yet it was a lesson she’d never forget.

“Suit yourself.” The towel wasn’t nearly big enough to adequately wrap around his lean hips, but he came out from behind the block wall anyway.

And strolled away.

“Hey.” Diah hustled after him. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going for clothes, and you aren’t invited.” He glanced back. “Much as you’d apparently love to watch.”

Damn it. She had to do better about staring—and usually she did. Given how good he looked, she’d cut herself a little slack for the lapse.

Ignoring his jibe, she aimed for a marginally reasonable comment. “I’ll wait out here.”

Keeping his back to her, he said, “No reason. I’m not hiring you.”

Unacceptable, so she stalled with a question. “You don’t have a shower room here for guests?”

Idly, he pointed in the direction of a concrete building farther out. “Right there, but it’s still loaded with spiders.”

Even as she shuddered, she prodded him by asking, “Squeamish about bugs?”

“Not particularly, but I’d as soon not shower with them.” He went up a few wooden steps to his front door.

Rather than keep chasing him, Diah acted like everything was on track. “Go ahead and get dressed, then I’ll explain.”

At that, he dropped his head forward and laughed.

She waited to see what he’d say, but with another shrug, he opened his door and went inside.

Damn. Now what?

Pacing away, her every step kicking up debris in the gravel walkway, Diah tried to plan. She came up blank. He had to hire her, period. In fact, thanks to Memphis’s brother and his wife, she’d already considered herself hired. They’d offered her assurances.

Could she use that to her advantage?

Twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t returned. People didn’t take that long to get dressed. It was a nice day. Underwear, shorts, a shirt…presto. He’d be done in under a minute.

So he was dodging her. Did he think she’d give up and leave? Fat chance.

She considered knocking on his door, but that wasn’t a great way to make a good impression on a job interview.

If she could turn this into an interview.

If she hadn’t just been completely dismissed.

Crap, what if he was calling the police or something?

Tuff whined, and that helped strengthen her resolve. She hadn’t come this far just to give up. True, she wasn’t the bravest person. So what? She had perseverance and initiative. “Come on, buddy. We both need a rest and Mr. Naked can just do whatever the hell he’s in there doing. I’m not budging unless I’m dragged away.”

Having done it many times now, in many different places, she methodically moved her gear to a cleared site, dug out Tuff’s bowl and filled it with water from Mr. Naked’s outdoor shower. While the dog drank she got set up.

Naturally, she’d chosen the spot closest to his cabin.

He’d figure out that she wasn’t leaving. She couldn’t.

One way or another, this was where she had to be.

While Memphis hastily pulled on boxers and loose cargo shorts, he watched the woman through one of the specialty one-way mirrored windows installed on his cabin as she literally—and expertly—pitched her tent.

On his property.

As if she had every intention of staying, despite anything he’d said. It nettled him big time, and yet it also had his blood pumping. Exhilarating. He hadn’t been this enthralled since moving here and buying the campgrounds.

Sure, he went into town every so often, and he’d visited with his brother and sister-in-law a few times. At least once a week he conferred with Madison, who was not only hardcore at tech but also claimed to be his BFF. Most best-friends-forever would visit in person more often. So far, he’d only met Madison in person a handful of times. Not a biggie since her husband and brothers were scary dudes who excelled at intimidation.

They didn’t intimidate him only because he understood them. They were big-time enforcers of justice, and on a smaller scale, he could help do the same from this campground.

To make the idea a reality, he’d been mostly working alone, setting up security cameras, motion sensors and reliable public WiFi for the guests—which he could easily monitor when necessary.

Eventually, he’d finish some of the necessary things, like cleaning out the showers and fixing the entry road, but any contractors he had around would be clueless to the real reason he had this place.

In fact, the only people so far who knew were his brother, sister-in-law and Madison.

After thumbing his brother’s number on his cell, he waited, and as soon as Hunter answered, Memphis said, “What the hell is this?”

“Memphis?” Hunter asked with feigned innocence.

“Yes, it’s your brother. I thought you loved me.”

“Do,” Hunter said, then asked, “So what’s the problem?”

“You sent someone here for a job.”

“I told you about that.”

“You told me about a guy—Jedidiah—not a pushy girl.” A girl with super-long, gorgeous legs, silky-looking brown hair with blondish ends, and an arresting set of eyes partially hidden behind rose-tinted glasses.

Eyes that instantly captivated.

She also had a totally funky fashion sense.

Not that he didn’t appreciate her cute coverall shorts worn with a faded pink long-sleeve top.

Hunter stated, “Jedidiah is a woman.”

“No shit.”

“You called her a girl.”

“You know what I meant.”

“She’s qualified. Has an amazing background as a handyman—”

“Woman,” Memphis said, throwing the correction back at his brother. “Handywoman.”

“—and she can fix, or oversee the fixing of, all the things you still need repaired. Plus, Jodi liked her.”

Memphis hated to admit it, but an endorsement from his sister-in-law counted for a lot, because Jodi didn’t trust many people. “Background check?”

“We figured you’d do more, but overall she’s clear.”

Overall clear and yet she’d watched him shower without a single qualm. That definitely felt shady…or at least ballsy. Worse, though, she’d heard him singing. Being fickle, he grinned and said, “I don’t like it.”

“You mean you don’t like her? Will it help if I tell you she’s a lot like Jodi?”

“Good Lord.” No, that definitely wouldn’t help. If that was true, he shouldn’t have left her unattended.

Good thing he could see her walking around the grounds, inspecting one thing, frowning at another, testing the sturdiness of something else.

“I’ll share your reaction with Jodi.”

“Don’t you dare.” He adored Jodi and though she didn’t need it, he felt very protective of her.

“So what’s the problem? You were all about me marrying Jodi.”

His stomach dropped. “What the hell does any of this have to do with marriage?”

“I just assumed if you had any type of issue with Jodi, you wouldn’t have sacrificed me.”

Sacrifice? Ha! He’d have liked to see anyone try to separate his brother from Jodi. Satan himself couldn’t have accomplished it. “Jodi, with all her special talents, is perfect for you—but you and I are very different people and you know it.”

“Jodi swears that in the most elemental ways, we’re the same and she wants you to hire Jedidiah.”

Damn. Memphis watched as the woman sat cross-legged on the ground, then dug around in her duffel bag and found an apple. When had she last eaten?

“Memphis?”

“I told her to leave,” he murmured aloud, as much to himself as his brother.

“Did she?”

“No.” Bemused, he watched her fill a bowl with dry food and set it before Tuff. First a water dish, and now this. What else did she have in that pack?

He kind of liked that she’d taken care of her pet first.

“Memphis?”

“She seems to be settling in,” he grumbled. “Now I’m going to have to oust her.”

“Hang on.”

Alarm drew his attention off Jedidiah. “Hunter, don’t you dare put me on with—”

“Hey, Memphis.”

Damn it. “Hey, Jodi,” he said in his nicest happy-to-hear-from-you voice. “How’s my favorite sister-in-law?”

“I’m your only sister-in-law.”

“Even if there were a dozen, you’d be my favorite.” He saw Jedidiah yawn with an elaborate stretch, her arms reaching high, back arching, before she relaxed again.

Fascinating.

Showing visible impatience, she pulled the band from her ponytail, finger-combed her hair and deftly began braiding it over her shoulder.

Mesmerizing.

“You’re piling it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

Jodi’s droll tone again gained his attention. “Not at all. You’re special. You know I’ve always said so.”

“Well, as someone special, I want you to keep her.”

Memphis rubbed the back of his neck where droplets from his still-wet hair trickled down his spine. He really needed to finish dressing so he could confront his unwanted guest. “Putting an attractive woman here with me isn’t wise.” He snatched up the towel and roughly ran it over his head.

“You think she’s attractive?”

Memphis rolled his eyes. “You’re not blind, honey. You know she is.”

“I guess, but hey, I’m assuming you can control yourself.”

“Can I?” He’d never had to before. Given how Jedidiah had stared at him, the interest would be returned. If she became an employee, he couldn’t very well react to basic urges. Or could he? He’d never been a boss before.

Then again, if he didn’t hire her, she’d leave. Hmm.

“I know you can,” Jodi said. “And, Memphis, she really needs the job. Give her a shot. See how it goes. You have a little time before you open, and I guarantee she’ll help you get the last few things in order.”

That casual last few things should have alarmed him, because seriously, he didn’t want others knowing why he’d bought the campground and how he planned to use it.

Hung up on a different part of what Jodi said, he harked back to, “What do you mean, she needs the job?”

Jodi huffed out a breath. “You met her, Memphis. Does she look like someone with a lot of resources?”

She’d hitchhiked in. She’d pitched her tent. Worse, she looked exhausted, so… “No.” Did she carry all her personal belongings with her? If so, she didn’t have much. “Spell it out for me.”

“Look, it’s her business, okay? All I’ll say is that if you send her packing, she’ll be sleeping in the woods somewhere.”

Sleeping in the woods? “What the hell are you getting me into?”

Hunter rejoined the conversation, saying, “Madison recommends her, too.”

Of all the… They’d already discussed this with Madison? “Listen up, brother. Women do not run my life.”

Jodi’s laugh came through loud and clear. “Keep her, Memphis.”

“She’s not a stray dog, you know.”

“Definitely not.” With more humor than the situation warranted, Jodi said, “You’ll like having her around. Trust me. I’ll check back with you in a few days.”

“Jodi—”

“Later, gator.”

Well, hell.

Hunter asked, “So that’s settled?”

Had he given Memphis a choice? He hated to disappoint Jodi, and now if Jedidiah left, he’d worry about her. No woman should be alone and unprotected in this area, much less alone in the woods.

And it wasn’t just the wildlife and weather that concerned him.

Memphis watched her stretch again, then pet the dog. “How did you and Jodi meet her anyway?”

“She was asking around town about you.”

His brows went up. “How so?”

“Curious about the campgrounds at first. When she found out you owned it now, she wanted to know your plans for the place. When you’d bought in, how long you’d been out there, stuff like that. Jodi got wind of it.”

“Of course she did.” Most likely, Madison had clued in Jodi. For a guy raised with only one brother, Memphis now had two awesome women in his life—a sister-in-law and a tech wizard bestie. He enjoyed them both; Jodi because she was special, both cunning and kind, and she made his brother very happy, and Madison because she was brilliant, connected, and it was nice to talk shop with someone who understood.

“Once we located Jedidiah, Jodi spoke with her.”

“Bet that was an interesting conversation.”

“Actually, Jedidiah seemed skittish at first, and you know Jodi. That made her extra curious, too, but also sympathetic. Jodi claims Jedidiah is here for a reason.”

That was the only conclusion that made sense. Why else would an attractive, healthy woman choose to hitchhike through Colorado and then apply for a handyman job at a remote, rundown campground? “She could be dangerous.”

“You can handle yourself. Plus, Jodi said she wasn’t armed.”

He hadn’t even thought about her having a weapon. “Jodi would know.” His sister-in-law was more astute than most, and deeply aware of everything and everyone. Sad, how and why she’d learned to be that way—but it had made her perfect for Hunter, and vice versa, and that was what mattered most, not any tragedies in the past.

Did Jedidiah have a tragic past?

Seemed possible. After all, Jodi had a nose for recognizing kindred spirits.

“Memphis?”

That particular tone from his brother put him on guard. “What?”

“Give her a try, okay? If it doesn’t work out, if you have legit reason for wanting her off your property, Jodi and I will help you make it happen.”

“Why is it you two think you know everything I need?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Fine. She can stay the night and we’ll see how it goes.” He’d make no promises beyond that. “I should check on her now. She’s been out there stewing while we talked.”

“Ass,” Hunter said in exasperation. “Go take care of her, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” He stuck the phone in his pocket, finished toweling his hair, grabbed a T-shirt from the drawer and stepped into old sneakers.

A singular sense of anticipation, something he hadn’t felt in forever, took him back out to the grounds and right up to where Jedidiah Stephens sat with her dog. No way did she miss his approach, especially now that his shadow encompassed her, yet she continued to pet Tuff without acknowledging him. The dog, however, sat up and let his tongue loll out—cautious, ready, but not yet aggressive.

Memphis waited, but Jedidiah said nothing, which meant he had to. “So do you have a reference?”

Squinting against the sun, aqua-colored eyes peered up at him. “Your brother and sister-in-law aren’t good enough?”

“Afraid not.” Was it the pink-tinted glasses that made her eyes that unique shade, a cross between blue and green? Or perhaps it was compliments of colored contacts. For certain, he’d never seen eyes like hers.

She quickly glanced away, but as if she couldn’t help herself, her gaze returned to him. “Then no, I don’t have a reference.”

When she didn’t stand, he crouched down in front of her, noting her touch of wariness. Long lashes lifted, brown eyebrows went up…and then drew down.

“What?” she asked, her tone defensive.

“I’ll keep you on a trial period.”

Miraculously, her expression changed to one of relief mingled with joy. “For real?”

Happiness made her even more appealing. “A week.”

“Awesome.” A big smile put dimples in her cheeks. “That’s time enough to convince you that I’m good to have around.”

Bothered by her nearness, Memphis stood again. “Would you like the use of a cabin?”

“A cabin?” Finally, she came to her feet, too, and though she fought it, her attention flickered to his place. “Where?”

So much suspicion. Had someone mistreated her? It didn’t really feel like a specific concern as much as general caution. A good idea since she was a woman alone, in an isolated area with a large man she didn’t know. If Jodi was right, she didn’t even have a weapon to protect herself.

Standing in front of her, he guessed her to be around five feet seven inches—which put her a good five inches shorter than him.

The braid she’d refashioned was crooked but cute, and his fingers curled with the urge to see if her hair was as silky as it looked. Traces of dust clung to her arms and cheeks. Wisps of hair around her face had darkened with sweat.

None of that should have stirred him, and yet it did.

“What?” she asked again, this time in annoyance. She straightened those silly colored glasses, flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Something wrong?”

Unfortunately, everything seemed right. “No.” Gesturing to the cabin across from his own, he asked, “Will that do? It’s small, only a loft bedroom, kitchenette, love seat with a TV, and a tiny bathroom.” He needed her to be close by so he could keep an eye on her.

“Sure. Or I can stay in my tent.”

“And then shower with the spiders?”

Her lips scrunched to the side. “Yeah, okay. Cabin it is. Er… I mean. How much?”

Benevolent, Memphis held out his arms. “It comes with the job.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is there a catch?”

So much distrust. “Yes. If I’m not satisfied with the job you do, you lose the cabin.”

“That’s it? For real? I’ll do a great job, you’ll see.”

He believed her. “Would you like to know how much you’ll get paid?”

“I suppose I should.”

Meaning she’d take the job regardless? Things got more interesting by the minute. He named the amount—slightly more than he’d intended to pay—but why not? She looked like she needed it. When her eyes widened, he felt good about upping the pay. “Will that suffice?”

“That’d be terrific, yeah.”

One issue down, now on to the rest. “Have you eaten?”

“You watched me eat an apple.”

He blinked.

“Dude, you have reflective windows. I know what they are. You look out, no one can look in.” She smirked. “Besides, I could feel you staring.”

His fascination grew. “I was on the phone with my brother.”

“Did he sing my praises?”

“Why would you think that?”

“He seemed all gung ho on you hiring me. His wife did, too. They smiled about it a lot.”

Yeah, Memphis just bet they did. The lie came easily. “Actually, they cautioned me.”

Her brows dropped. “About what?”

He started her toward his cabin with a wave of his hand. “You asked about me around town.”

Nothing. Not a word as she followed along.

Prodding her, he asked, “How did you hear about the campground?”

More silence. He glanced at her and caught her concentrated frown. Ah, so she and this campground had a history? He’d have to look into that.

“The thing is…”

Understanding about secrets, he said, “Never mind, we’ll get back to that later. Would you like to come in while I get the keys to unlock your cabin?”

She peered around him, gave it some thought and looked at Tuff. “I can’t leave him out here alone. He’d go bonkers.”

“Should I assume you’ll only be able to work when the dog can be beside you?” That’d certainly limit what she could do.

“This is our first day here. First hour, even. He’ll relax once he gets used to the place. Usually, I can leash him nearby and he’s fine.” She shifted, then asked with dread, “Is that going to be a problem?”

Memphis shook his head. Instincts were a very real thing and his were telling him to accommodate her. “Tuff is welcome inside as well.”

For only a second, she showed her surprise. “Oh, okay, then sure. I can check out your bathroom, too, if you want.” Verbally backpedaling, she said, “I mean, to see what else has to be done.”

He let that go without a joke. “You have plumbing skills?”

“Give me the right tools and a little more muscle and I could pretty much build a house from the ground up.”

“No kidding?” He opened his door and stepped aside for her to enter. “A formidable skill for a… How old are you?”

After the slightest beat of hesitation, she said, “Midtwenties.”

“And so exact.” He came in behind her, which had her quickly turning to face him. Right, her aversion to having people at her back. Without making an issue of it, Memphis strode around her toward the kitchen. “Had some experience in contracting?”

“It’s mostly what I’ve done.” Leaning against a wall, she watched as Tuff sniffed everything—each piece of furniture, cabinet and along the floor. “I tried other jobs, but then I realized I have a knack for handyman work and pick up on stuff easily, so I’ve stuck with it.”

Unlocking a large cabinet on the wall, Memphis surveyed the labeled keys on tiny hooks, each with multiple duplicates, and withdrew the one he’d need. “Was your father in construction?”

With deep interest, she continued to stare at the cabinet.

It took Memphis a second to figure out why, and once he did, compassion overshadowed everything else. Whatever was going on with Jedidiah, she’d learned to be extra cautious. “I need duplicates in case one gets lost.” Her gaze shot to his and held. Such remarkable eyes. She didn’t just look at a person, she fixed on them as if nothing else existed.

The only time Memphis could recall a woman gazing at him like that was during sex, and even then, the attention hadn’t felt so intense.

Should he tell her that the tinted lenses did nothing to lessen the impact of her stare? Probably not—at least not yet. Not when she looked so mistrustful.

“Each cabin has a dead bolt on the inside of the entry door so when you’re inside, you’re safe. I have extra keys just in case someone locks themselves out, or loses the key.”

She needlessly adjusted her glasses and glanced away. “Right.” The uneasy smile she flicked his way didn’t include her endearing dimples. Giving her atten it, Memphis strode around her toward the kitchen. “Had some experience in contracting?”

“It’s mostly what I’ve done.” Leaning against a wall, she watched as Tuff sniffed everything—each piece of furniture, cabinet and along the floor. “I tried other jobs, but then I realized I have a knack for handyman work and pick up on stuff easily, so I’ve stuck with it.”

Unlocking a large cabinet on the wall, Memphis surveyed the labeled keys on tiny hooks, each with multiple duplicates, and withdrew the one he’d need. “Was your father in construction?”

With deep interest, she continued to stare at the cabinet.

It took Memphis a second to figure out why, and once he did, compassion overshadowed everything else. Whatever was going on with Jedidiah, she’d learned to be extra cautious. “I need duplicates in case one gets lost.” Her gaze shot to his and held. Such remarkable eyes. She didn’t just look at a person, she fixed on them as if nothing else existed.

The only time Memphis could recall a woman gazing at him like that was during sex, and even then, the attention hadn’t felt so intense.

Should he tell her that the tinted lenses did nothing to lessen the impact of her stare? Probably not—at least not yet. Not when she looked so mistrustful.

“Each cabin has a dead bolt on the inside of the entry door so when you’re inside, you’re safe. I have extra keys just in case someone locks themselves out, or loses the key.”

She needlessly adjusted her glasses and glanced away. “Right.” The uneasy smile she flicked his way didn’t include her endearing dimples. Giving her attention to the rest of the kitchen, she said, “I know how it works. No worries.”

“Oh?” Happy to give her the change in topic, he asked, “Have some experiences with campgrounds, too?”

“We visited them often when I was a kid.”

Something in how she said that made him wonder: Had she been to this campground? Trying to be subtle about it, he asked, “When was the last time you and your family visited—”

She interrupted to ask, “Mind if I take a look at your addition now?”

Huh. Apparently, discussions of her family were off the table. His curiosity grew, but again, he let it go.

Knowing her preferences, he stepped around her to lead the way to his bedroom. “It’s back here.” As they walked down the hall, he asked, “So other than an apple, have you eaten?”

“This morning.”

“Got a meal hidden in your gear? Because I don’t have the camp store open yet and even when I do it’ll be for basics without a lot of meal choices. The cupboards in your cabin aren’t stocked, either.”

Her hand went to her stomach, but instead of answering his question, she said, “I heard you’re making this a budget place, right?” Studiously ignoring his bed, she moved along to the extension.

In between his special projects for the campgrounds, he’d gotten the bigger bedroom and bathroom semifinished. The doors and all the windows were in, so the room was secure. The drywall was up, the seams mudded, but they needed to be sanded.

“It’ll be an affordable stay, not at all fancy. Only the basics offered.” Which meant that less reputable people would find it appealing. The grounds wouldn’t be on anyone’s radar. Low-key, unobtrusive—quick in and quick out. However, while guests were here, Memphis could do all the digging he wanted on their extracurricular and often illegal activities.

Jedidiah moved on, inspecting everything. “Electrical, plumbing and HVAC are all roughed in?”

“Yes.” He glanced around at the incomplete work. Once the room was closed up, he’d put finishing it on hold to focus on other projects that he considered key to the campground. “The shower only needs to be caulked.”

“So rather than caulk it, you choose to shower outside in April?”

“The weather has been mild and I find it invigorating.” Only a partial lie. There’d been times when he’d thought he’d freeze his balls off, completing his shower in under two minutes and racing back into the warmth of his cabin. “I sing to scare off the bears.”

“There aren’t any bears around.”

“Guess my singing is working.”

She snickered. “Want me to caulk it for you?”

“Why?” She sounded so earnest, he lifted his brows and teased her. “Just because you’re here, you don’t want me showering outside anymore?”

The humor slipped and her expression went blank. “I mean, no, sure…” Confusion brought her brows together. “Did you still plan to?”

Fighting a grin, he gestured at the bedroom. “At least until the rest of this is done.” When it was finished, his bed would get moved in here and he’d have the old, crowded bedroom to use as office space. “A little sanding, trim, paint… Won’t be much longer anyway.”

Determined, she faced him. “I can do all that.”

Never before had he met anyone so eager to take on work. “No kidding?”

Again moving past his question, she explained, “You’ve had your final inspections, right? I can do the hookups for the electrical, plumbing, HVAC—all that. Plus, I’m really good at trim work and I’ve done drywall plenty of times. Painting isn’t a problem, either.” Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I’ll even clear out the spiders in the public showers.”

Damn. Did she think she needed to work sunup to sundown? “Jedidiah…”

“Call me Diah. It’s not such a mouthful.”

“Diah.” Pretty name and it suited her. “All right.”

This time her smile showed only resolve. “I promise I’ll be a good worker.”

“I never doubted it.” He realized Tuff wasn’t with them and turned to see the dog snuffling into his closet. Quickly striding to him, Memphis said, “Hey there, Tuff, how’d you get that door open?”

Before he could reach the dog, Diah darted past him and pulled Tuff away. “Sorry.” Stiff and unsure, she stood protectively in front of the dog. “He gets nosy.”

Her moods bounced around too fast for Memphis to keep track, but always, to one degree or another, the uncertainty was there. Now, when it came to her dog, she did her best to shield him.

What did she think he’d do? Wondering about that, Memphis gentled his tone. “First, there’s nothing awful in my closet so I wasn’t worried.” To reassure her, he reached out and opened the closet door the rest of the way. She could see the clothes in front, but not really the shelving in the back. Not that he was hiding anything but he didn’t think she wanted him to give her an accounting of his belongings. “Even if I was hiding something top secret, I would never mistreat an animal. You don’t have to worry about me with Tuff. I just didn’t want him eating my shoes.”

“Tuff would never!”

Her affront on behalf of her dog was endearing. “If you say so. My brother has this goofy basset mix who seems to like the laces in my shoes.”

The mention of Turbo eased some of the defensiveness from her posture. “I met Turbo. He makes funny noises.”

“That he does. His barker is broken or something. He came that way when Hunter rescued him so we’re not sure how it happened, and now it’s just a very Turbo-like thing to hear a dog quacking.”

The dimples reappeared in her cheeks. “He’s bottom heavy, too, and bounces when he’s excited.”

“I imagine he was excited to meet Tuff.”

“Very.” Putting her hand on Tuff’s head, she said, “We didn’t know what to think, did we, bud?”

Tuff said, “Fft.”

“That’s his quiet bark, his way of keeping things understated. When he’s mad he sounds demonic.” Realizing what she’d said, she quickly backtracked. “Oh, but he doesn’t get mad often, only when something is really wrong or…” Her voice trailed off.

“Or he thinks you’re being threatened?”

Excerpted from The Fearless One by Lori Foster. Copyright © 2023 by Lori Foster. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About the Author

Lori Foster is a New York Times, USA TODAY and Publishers Weekly bestselling author and a recipient of the prestigious RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in Central Ohio, where coffee helps her keep up with her cats and grandkids between writing books. For more about Lori, visit her website at www.lorifoster.com, like her on Facebook or find her on Twitter, @lorilfoster.t

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Spotlight: River Strong by B. J. Daniels

Publication Date: December 26, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

For two rival families, the only thing that matters more than land…is love.

There’s a lifetime of tension between the McKenna and Stafford ranching families, and Oakley Stafford has the bullet scar to prove it. Defying the bitter rivalry between their families, Oakley grew up thick as thieves with Duffy McKenna. But now the Staffords and the McKennas are competing to buy a neighboring property. Both need that land desperately—and the reasons are more dangerous than Oakley knows.

But there’s another unspoken rivalry, too, between Duffy and Pickett Hanson, the McKenna family’s ranch hand. Once upon a time, Oakley ignored the way the two handsome cowboys playfully flirted with her, but now she’s untangling complicated feelings that could upend years of friendship. And when a body is found on the contested ranch, their secrets will be forced into the open at last…

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Oakley Stafford jolted upright in bed, the nightmare chasing her from the deep darkness of sleep into the growing light of the Montana winter day. The sun rimmed the mountains to the east, but her view from her bedroom window on the Stafford Ranch was still cast in shadow. Through the bare-limbed cottonwoods, the Powder River wound its way north, dark and silent beneath a thick layer of ice.

Even now awake, Oakley felt as if she was still spurring her horse through the darkness of the cottonwoods months earlier. The leaves created a dark canopy overhead with only slivers of sunlight filtering through, casting long shadows in her path. She raced for the county road, chased by a killer as she ran for her life. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

She shuddered, the recurring nightmare feeling so real because it had been. She’d awoken in the hospital, shocked to hear that she’d been shot just as she and her horse had burst from the cottonwoods and onto the county road. Shot in the back, she’d fallen from her horse, striking her head so hard that it wiped out all memory of two full days of her life.

Her hand went automatically to her scar near her heart where the bullet had been removed. Even after all this time, the shadowy images still plagued her, daring her to remember. What had really happened that day?

While her memory felt like a black hole tempting her to come closer and look at what was waiting for her inside, her mind kept crying out, Don’t look back! It made her fear that the truth might be more terrifying than her lack of memory.

Oakley started as her bedroom door opened, her older sister filling the frame. “I heard you cry out. The nightmare again?” She nodded as Tilly entered the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I thought after CJ confessed to accidentally shooting you, it would get better.”

“So did I.” But she didn’t trust her older brother’s version of the story. There was a part of her brain that told her there was something important she desperately needed to recall before it was too late.

“You stayed here last night?” she asked. Tilly often stayed with her fiancé at the McKenna Ranch that adjoined theirs. The river dividing their land, the two families had been at odds for years. The bitterness between the McKenna patriarch, Holden McKenna, and their mother, the matriarch of the Stafford Ranch, Charlotte Stafford, had gotten worse recently.

“Have you heard from Mother?” Tilly asked as she rose from the bed and walked to the window. Oakley saw her glance at the engagement ring on her finger, the diamond catching the early-morning light. In the distance, the mountains rose in rocky cliffs and pine-dotted hillsides capped with the last of winter’s snow. Closer, the thick stand of cottonwoods stood stark along the river as it wound its way through the Powder River Basin under a clear, cold, cloudless blue late-December sky.

“Maybe you should tell her about your engagement before she returns home,” Oakley suggested, leaning against the headboard as the remnants of her nightmare burned away like morning mountain mist, leaving her unsettled.

“Mother has enough on her plate right now.”

Oakley had been shocked when she’d learned who’d shot her. Her own brother. CJ swore it was an accident. She knew in her heart that there was more to it and that was what had her scared. She had to remember, because all her instincts told her that her would-be killer was waiting in fear for her to do just that.

While Oakley had been fighting for her life in the hospital, CJ had tried to flee the law. He’d rolled his pickup, almost killing Tilly and himself. Paralyzed, he’d been whisked away by their mother to a hospital in Minnesota that specialized in the care he needed. Their mother had gone with him. Oakley hadn’t seen either of them since; nor had she gotten a chance to confront her brother.

“I haven’t heard anything from her,” Oakley said. As far as she knew, CJ was still paralyzed, needing a wheelchair, something their mother refused to accept. If stubborn determination could heal her oldest son, Charlotte Stafford would have had him walking by now and the two would have returned to the ranch.

“I can’t believe that you’ve forgiven him,” Tilly said. “He almost killed you.” CJ had fired the bullet that had come so close to Oakley’s heart that it had been amazing that she survived. It was his reason for shooting her that still haunted her. He’d apparently followed her onto McKenna Ranch property because he thought she was meeting someone from the rival ranch. Allegedly, he’d fired a warning shot to stop her that had gone awry.

“I don’t know that I can ever forgive him entirely,” Oakley said. “It was bad enough what he did to me. But he almost killed you.” She shook her head. “He’s never had to suffer the consequences of his actions, thanks to Mother. But this time he went too far. Not that I’d ever wish him to be badly injured. But he needs to spend some time behind bars. Not that Mother will ever allow that.”

Tilly looked as if she hadn’t completely forgiven their brother, either. She’d been on her way into town the day CJ found out the sheriff knew that he’d fired the near-fatal shot. Their brother abducted Tilly, taking her hostage as he raced along backroads, determined to escape punishment.

“You realize CJ will go berserk when he finds out about your engagement to Cooper McKenna,” Oakley said.

“I’m not worried about CJ,” Tilly said. “I’m more concerned about Mother. You know how she feels about the McKennas.”

Charlotte Stafford could be scary when crossed, but for Oakley it was CJ who appeared in her nightmares, along with a nagging conviction that he was lying about the shooting. “I just worry about what she’ll do, Tilly. Didn’t she threaten you if you kept seeing Cooper?”

“There’s nothing she can do,” her sister said, sounding more confident than Oakley suspected she was.

“I’m marrying Coop and she can’t stop me. As far as the ranch…”

Oakley heard the catch in her sister’s voice. Tilly loved the homestead, loved working it, always thought she would be the one who kept the Stafford Ranch going for future generations. It was why she and CJ and their mother often argued about the future of the ranch and ranching. They’d especially been at odds over coalbed methane drilling on the property. CJ had talked their mother into letting the gas company drill on the ranch for the money. He’d never considered the long-term or what it would mean to future generations.

“Mother’s going to need me working the ranch even more now until CJ is up and around again,” Tilly said.

“If he ever is.” Oakley didn’t remind her sister how Charlotte Stafford handled those she felt had been disloyal. She cut them out of her life as brutally as if taking a knife to them.

“I should get moving,” Tilly said. “Cooper and I are driving out to Oregon to pick up a bull. He wants to start a whole new breeding program at the ranch. Holden has offered us a section of land for a house as a wedding present. We’re planning to build this summer, although I know Holden would be happy if we stayed in the main house. But with Cooper’s older brother so opposed to us being together…”

“Treyton,” Oakley said like a curse. “He is so much like CJ except for the fact that he hasn’t shot anyone lately.”

“As far as we know,” Tilly said. “Holden thinks his son will come around. I have my doubts. But it doesn’t matter. Cooper and I are going to be together, no matter what.”

Oakley smiled. Her sister seemed to glow whenever she said her fiancé’s name. “I couldn’t be happier for you.” Tilly had found love and like she said, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them from marrying. At least she hoped that was the case.

The sun broke over the mountains and filled her bedroom with warm golden light, chasing away the nightmare—at least until tonight. She couldn’t wait for the days to get longer, the sun stronger. This winter had been harder than most and it had only begun.

“You have plans today?” Tilly asked, still standing next to her bed.

She heard the suspicion and worry in her sister’s voice. “Nothing exciting. Just going into Miles City, meeting up with some friends.”

“Anyone I know?”

Oakley knew exactly what Tilly was asking.

“I hope you’re not still involved with that subversive group, Dirty Business,” her sister said. “Stu told me that there’d been more vandalizing of the coalbed methane drilling rigs. He said the gas company is going to be cracking down.”

She heard the warning loud and clear. “You still see the sheriff?”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Stu and I and Cooper are friends. I was never serious about the sheriff. Oakley, you can’t stop the drilling in the Powder River Basin. Sabotaging the drilling equipment will only end you up in jail or worse.”

“It hurts me that you think I would do something like that.”

Tilly rolled her eyes. “Maybe that works on Mother—”

It didn’t. “Thank you for the early-morning lecture, big sis, but I’m well aware of all of that.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt that twinge around the gunshot scar. She was kidding herself if she thought she could ever forgive her brother for shooting her, especially when she couldn’t shake the feeling that there had been more to it than he’d admitted. If only she could remember those lost forty-eight hours.

Unlike Tilly, she was anxious for CJ and her mother to return to the ranch. She wanted answers. She would finally get to confront her brother. She planned to get the truth out of him, one way or another. But that wasn’t all she had planned as she waited for her sister to leave her room so she could call her two coconspirators about tonight.

“You have another date?”

Duffy McKenna turned to see the latest addition to the McKenna Ranch standing in the doorway, one hip cocked, a smile on her cute pre-teenaged face. He touched his finger to his lips and pretended it was a secret. It actually was, but he didn’t want Holly Jo to know that any more than he did the rest of the family.

“You must like this one,” the twelve-year-old said as she plopped down in a chair to watch him finish getting ready. “You’re always looking in the mirror, messing with your hair, but you seem nervous this time.”

He turned to look at her, unable not to grin. Holly Jo was sharper than some of the people in this house gave her credit for. He needed to watch this one. “You think so, huh?”

“So what’s she like?” she asked, twirling a lank of her long dark hair on a finger as she studied him with those big blue eyes.

“Smart, strong, determined,” he said at once. He laughed at how quickly the words had come to him and yet they didn’t do Oakley Stafford justice. He realized he could have added another half dozen adjectives easily.

Holly Jo rolled her eyes. “Is she pretty?”

“No prettier than you.”

She mugged a face at him, but he could tell she liked the compliment. “Are you serious about her?”

He’d never been that serious about any girl he’d gone out with. But Oakley? He realized he was dead serious. So why hadn’t he done something about it? He’d been telling himself that there was plenty of time, except that he’d been thinking that for a long time now. She wasn’t as close to anyone as she was him, he told himself. So of course they would be together one day. What was the hurry?

“What do you think?” he said in answer to Holly Jo’s question. “You know what a serious cowboy I am.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Cooper says you like to play the field. That you’re too immature to have a real relationship. Treyton said he doesn’t understand what women see in you.”

Duffy laughed. “Me neither.” Great to know how the family really feels, he thought. Even his brother Treyton had weighed in.

“You going to break this one’s heart?”

“Chances are that she’ll end up breaking mine.” That was a sobering thought.

“Elaine says it will take getting your heart broken before you find your true love.” Elaine was their cook, head housekeeper, a fixture at the ranch from before Duffy was born.

“That’s what Elaine says, huh? You two spend a lot of time talking about me, do you?”

“As much as anyone else except Treyton,” Holly Jo said innocently enough. “Elaine doesn’t see much hope for him and neither do I. But she says everyone has the potential to change and be a better person no matter their past indiscretions.”

“I never knew Elaine dispensed so much good advice.” He grinned at her. “What does she suggest for you?”

Holly Jo made a face. “She says I have a lot of growing up to do, but that I just need to be patient.”

“I agree with her. Now, get going. I can’t be late for my date. Don’t you have homework to do?” He watched her shove herself up with a groan.

“Holden says I can’t date until I’m at least sixteen. Sixteen! Do you know how old that is?”

“I do.” As he watched her shuffle out of his room, he wondered what the real story was about Holly Jo. All his father had told them was that he’d made a promise to Holly Jo’s mother years ago that he would take care of her daughter if anything happened to her. Had he known the mother was going to die young?

More to the point: Was there any blood connection to the girl and their family? Holden swore she wasn’t his daughter. But Duffy had no doubt there was more to the story. There always was.

All the family knew was that Holly Jo was going to be living with them indefinitely. Not that the girl had been pleased about that. She’d spent months getting into trouble, trying to leave and generally fighting with their father.

Duffy liked her. It was probably the kid in him, but he thought she liked him, too. Treyton ignored her, their sister, Bailey, threatened her if she came near her room or her business, Cooper taught her to ride a horse and their ranch hand and Duffy’s best friend, Pickett Hanson, was giving her trick riding lessons. Lately, she’d seemed to be settling in as if accepting the way things were. He hoped it worked out. He would miss her if she left for any reason.

Duffy turned his attention to his so-called date tonight. Who was he kidding?

It wasn’t a date. It was three friends, Duffy, Pickett and Oakley, going to a Dirty Business secret meeting. Sometimes he felt like Oakley was completely out of his league even if she hadn’t been a Stafford. Not just that. She often seemed to like his best friend, Pickett, more than him.

He planned to change that, he thought with a grin as he looked in the mirror. This woman was a challenge, something he wasn’t used to, but that made him all the more determined. He raked a hand through his thick dark hair. Holly Jo was right, he thought with a laugh. He definitely more than liked this one.

But he also didn’t want anyone else to have her—not that he was worried about Pickett.

Cooper found his father behind his desk in the den. He saw worry etched deep in Holden’s once very handsome face. Holden McKenna was still a powerful-looking man with broad shoulders. His dark hair had gone salt-and-pepper with gray, and his blue eyes seemed to have dimmed some, but there was an inner strength to him that Cooper had always admired.

“Problem?” he asked as he stepped into the room.

His father looked up from the papers on his desk. “I suppose you’ve heard. Inez Turner is now in hospice care. Word is that the Montana 360 Ranch will be up for sale after she passes. Her son Bob isn’t interested in ranching, apparently. We could use that land, but mostly we need the water that flows through it.”

When Charlotte Stafford had a coalbed methane well drilled right next to their ranch, their artesian well had gone dry. It was a loss that had put the two families even more at odds. Cooper was familiar with the Montana 360 Ranch. It had good wells and access to the river.

“You know Charlotte will want that land,” he said. “If she diverts the water away from our ranch…”

His father nodded. “I’ve already spoken to Bob, letting him know we’re interested in purchasing the ranch. We will have to top whatever Charlotte offers.”

Cooper figured this would make the rivalry between the two families even worse. But it also might put the McKenna Ranch in financial jeopardy. He was pretty sure that was why his older brother, Treyton, had been pushing their father to cash in by having coalbed methane wells drilled on their ranch. Thankfully, Holden was dead set against it.

But there would also be a personal cost for his father. According to the local scuttlebutt, his father and Charlotte had been lovers when they were young. She’d thought they would marry. Holden’s father had someone else in mind for his son, a woman whose ranch land the McKenna Ranch needed.

Charlotte never forgave him for betraying her. Cooper suspected his father had also never forgiven himself. There were times when her name was mentioned that Cooper had seen the pain in his father’s eyes. He’d long suspected that Holden still loved her.

“Does Treyton know?” he had to ask. Since recently returning to the ranch after leaving two years ago, he suspected his brother might be planning to go behind their father’s back to do what he felt was best for the ranch.

“He doesn’t know the extent of it,” Holden admitted. “I don’t want to have another argument with him about drilling on McKenna land. We just have to make sure we get the Montana 360 Ranch. I’m afraid it’s going to be a bidding war with Charlotte Stafford and probably some other ranchers in the area. Treyton seems to think I should go to the ranch, get Irma to sell to me on her deathbed.” He shook his head. “I don’t know about your brother sometimes.”

Sometimes? Cooper had butted heads with Treyton since they were kids. Since returning to the river basin a some months ago, he’d warned his father about Treyton having been seen talking with one of the methane company bosses. He’d also told him about catching Treyton at the real estate office in town, possibly seeing what the ranch might be worth on the open market.

His brother always seemed to be angry, wanting their father to step aside and let him take over the ranch, convinced he could run it better. Cooper feared what Treyton would do if he got the chance.

“You’re headed out to Oregon, right?” Holden asked. “Taking Tilly with you?” He smiled. “Make it a nice little holiday. No reason to rush back.” As if thinking the same thing Cooper was, his father asked, “Any word on when Charlotte is coming back?”

He shook his head. “As far as I know she hasn’t been in communication with anyone here. I don’t think CJ is healing as she’d hoped. Doubt she wants to return until he is.”

His father sighed. “Charlotte hates to lose, but from what I’ve heard, CJ will be coming home in a wheelchair. How long he might be in one, possibly the rest of his life, is debatable. If she has anything to do with it, he’ll walk again.” Charlotte Stafford’s iron will was legendary. “Does she know about the engagement yet?”

“Not that I know of,” Cooper said. “Tilly hasn’t heard from her. But the fact that her mother hasn’t been taking her calls could be an indication that Charlotte has heard.” He saw his father frown. They both feared how Charlotte would take it.

As for CJ Stafford, he and his father felt the same way about the cowboy who had almost killed both of his sisters. Cooper was hoping CJ walked again for personal reasons. He needed to settle a few things with him.

“I’m sure you’ve heard,” Cooper said. “Charlotte’s lawyers are fighting to get the cases against CJ for both incidents dropped.” No one in the county who knew the Stafford matriarch believed her son would ever do any jail time.

His father said nothing. In recent years, he’d argued for peace between the families. Now he changed the subject. “Well, have a good trip. Can’t wait to see this bull when you get back. Drive safely.” Holden’s gaze shifted to something behind Cooper. “Was that Duffy leaving?”

“Said he had a date.”

His father shook his head. “I doubt he’ll ever settle down and get serious about a woman—let alone working this ranch.”

Oakley showered, dressed and headed for Miles City with a planned stop along the way to pick up her two cohorts, Duffy McKenna and Pickett Hanson. Duffy was Holden McKenna’s youngest son. Pickett had been a McKenna ranch hand since all three of them were in their teens. Both were her best friends and partners in crime and had been since then. She used to sneak over to the neighboring ranch and the three managed to get into all kinds of trouble. They still did.

Both young men had stolen a piece of her heart with their good looks, their heart-fluttering grins and outrageous senses of humor. Lately, the three of them had become even closer out of their determination to stop the coalbed methane drilling in their valley.

As she pulled up to the meeting place just outside town, the two men exited the pickup they’d arrived in and walked toward her, smiling. They were both so darned handsome, cowboys through and through. For years, Oakley had watched cowgirls throwing themselves at the two of them. She hadn’t been one of those cowgirls. She’d ignored both men when they flirted with her—and still did. It only seemed to make them both more determined to win her over.

She laughed now as the two wrestled over who was going to sit on the pickup’s bench seat next to her. They’d made a game out of trying to court her favor. “Quit horsing around. We need to get going.”

Duffy won the wrestling match, sliding in next to her, grinning and giving her a hip bump. Like all the McKennas, he had thick dark hair and incredible blue eyes with long dark lashes that made her jealous. “Hey, beautiful.”

She elbowed him in the side as Pickett climbed in, slammed the door and then got the truck moving. “Tilly told me that the sheriff mentioned to her that another drilling rig had been vandalized,” she said, getting down to business. Sheriff Stuart Layton was close to both Tilly and Cooper. Her sister had dated Stuart for a while before her true heartthrob Cooper had returned.

Oakley glanced over at the two men as she drove out of town and headed for the mountains they would cross before dropping down into the Yellowstone River Valley and Miles City. She loved both Duffy and Pickett, but lately Oakley felt as if something was changing. Or maybe it was her. “You know Stuart suspects us,” she said, keeping to the subject at hand.

“But he has to prove it was us,” Duffy said and grinned.

“I think we need to work on the ranchers,” Pickett said, always the practical one. When the three of them had built a treehouse in the woods, Duffy had been convinced it was safe enough. Pickett refused to climb up until it was supported better. Duffy broke his arm in the fall when the treehouse collapsed.

“If ranchers don’t let them drill on their land, CH4 will have to move on,” Pickett said. “Keeping them from using their drilling equipment for a few weeks isn’t stopping them.”

“Neither is trying to get ranchers not to drill,” Duffy said. “Too many of them need the money and if this drought continues…” It was no secret that Duffy enjoyed sabotaging the drilling rigs, but he really did want the drilling to stop. Like Pickett, he tended to joke around, making people think he didn’t take anything seriously. But most people didn’t know either man the way Oakley did.

“It does come down to money,” Pickett agreed. “So many of the ranches had to sell their cattle earlier than they wanted because of it, our ranches included.”

Oakley knew the argument too well. “Maybe someone will have a suggestion at this meeting in Miles City. We need to be careful, though. The sheriff is watching us. So are the folks at the methane gas company. It’s getting more dangerous.” None of them spoke until she was almost to Miles City.

“I’m not sure you should go with us to the meeting,” Pickett said.

She shot him a look that she hoped sent her clear answer to that.

“I’m serious, Oakley. You’re right about it getting more dangerous. I’m worried about you. Isn’t your mother coming back soon?”

“What does she have to do with this?” she demanded. While she planned to confront her brother, she knew her mother would fight like a mama grizzly to protect her oldest son—maybe especially if his injuries still had him in a wheelchair.

“The next well could be on your ranch,” Duffy said. “Your mother had been about to make a deal with CH4 before she left. I doubt CJ’s changed her mind.”

Oakley let out an oath, slamming her hand down on the steering wheel. “CJ,” she said. “I’m sure he talked her into it. He’d have wells all over the ranch if he had his way. All he thinks about is the money. Doesn’t care about what it will do to the ranch that our children and grandchildren will inherit.” She groused under her breath for a moment before glancing over at them. “If she goes ahead with it, we’re going to stop that well from going in.”

They instantly started voicing their concerns about any plan that meant crossing Charlotte Stafford. “That’s a little too close to home, don’t you think?” Pickett said.

“Exactly,” she snapped. “Duffy, you already lost a major well on your ranch because of the drilling on our ranch. You can’t afford to lose another one. Eventually, it is going to destroy our own water wells, not to mention what all that salt from the drilling water is going to do to the Powder River. We have to stop it. If you don’t want to help me—”

“You know better than that,” Pickett said.

Duffy chuckled. “Like we would let you do this alone.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without the two of you,” she said, meaning it even as her stomach roiled at the thought of going head-to-head with her mother and CJ. She had no idea how much time she had before her mother returned and the drilling began—let alone how they were going to stop it and stay out of jail.

In his office, Sheriff Stuart “Stu” Layton sorted through the photographs taken at the crime scene. The incidents of vandalism on the gas rigs had escalated, the damage more extensive. A bigwig from the CH4 gas company was flying in today, demanding something be done and threatening to go to the feds if the sheriff couldn’t handle the job.

Stu didn’t like being threatened. He really doubted the feds would be interested in taking on vandalism cases, but he was no fool. Things had gotten out of hand. He had to stop it.

He sorted through the photos again, knowing full well that the group calling themselves Dirty Business was growing in numbers. It was no longer some young hotheads. Area ranchers had joined the group, trying to organize against the gas company.

The sheriff figured the vandals only made up a small portion of the group, though. He was pretty sure he knew some of them, but he had no proof. They’d been clever, making sure no one saw them and leaving no evidence as to their identities.

He studied the photographs more closely. No tire tracks. They’d walked into the site where the drilling equipment had been. But they’d also left no footprints. He figured they had to be wearing shoe coverings. He wasn’t dealing with kids or hopped-up teenagers. This group knew what they were doing. He suspected they had been trained.

The only way to catch them was to stake out drilling equipment in isolated places around the Powder River Basin. The thought of putting his new deputy, Ty Dodson, on it gave him pause. Dodson tended to throw his weight around because of the badge. Stu hated to think what the deputy might do if the vandals ran or worse, put up a fight. He didn’t want anyone getting killed over spray paint and some temporarily inoperable equipment.

“Got a minute?” He looked up to find a pretty brunette smiling in through his open office doorway at him. He and Abigail Creed, the new nurse at the local small hospital, had been dating for a few months off and on. Mostly off.

From the first time he’d met her, Stu had been suspicious of her reasons for being in Powder Crossing. Also for being so friendly to him. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, just a gut feeling that unnerved him. Maybe he just wasn’t used to sweet, thoughtful women being interested in him, he joked to himself. Or maybe Abigail wasn’t exactly who she pretended to be.

“Free for dinner? I hit the market in Miles City and I feel like cooking. Feel like eating?”

He searched only a few moments for an excuse to decline and then changed his mind. He felt as if their relationship was reaching some sort of climax, one way or the other. “I’d love to. What can I bring?”

“Just your appetite. Seven?” He nodded, smiling. “See you then,” she said and was gone.

Stu sat for a moment chastising himself. Abigail was probably what she appeared, a lovely, caring, pretty young woman who for whatever reason seemed interested in him. Why wasn’t he more suspicious of the ones who would end up leaving him for someone else?

He thought of Tilly Stafford. He’d really thought she might be the one.

She turned out to be the one all right—for Cooper McKenna, he reminded himself. Her falling for Cooper had strained his relationship with his once best friend. He and Coop had patched up their grievance, but there was some history there that they kept stumbling over. Another woman they’d both been interested in was now dead.

He pushed away the thought of Leann Hayes, not wanting to go back down that dark alley. As far as he was concerned, the case was closed. She’d committed suicide, end of story. He just hoped that he could eventually convince Cooper of that before he demanded the case be reopened. His friend was convinced that Leann hadn’t killed herself.

Fortunately, Cooper was busy, enjoying his engagement to Tilly Stafford and hadn’t mentioned reopening the case lately. His friend had stopped by earlier to tell him that he was going out to Oregon to pick up a bull. Tilly was going with him. “Can I pick you up anything from the West Coast?”

Stu marveled at how he and the ranch kid had become friends to begin with. The sheriff was as blond as Cooper was dark. The two of them had grown up together. Close to the same age, they’d been in the same grade in the small rural school for years. He couldn’t remember when they’d become best friends. There were rough times over the years when they’d fought over ball games or girls, but they’d lasted as friends. They’d always had each other’s back—even in the worst times.

Until recently.

Stu had a bad feeling that chasm in their relationship was about to widen when Cooper found out that the sheriff had been seeing quite a lot of his sister, Bailey. She would stop by his office or drop by the house to talk. She’d already told him about her brother’s trip, but Stu didn’t let on to Cooper that he already knew or that he’d been seeing his wild younger sister. He had a feeling that his old friend wouldn’t be happy about that. It had been Bailey’s idea to keep it on the down-low.

The sheriff had no idea where it was going—or if it was going anywhere. He liked Bailey’s company and she seemed to find his job fascinating. She also liked to talk about the valley’s history. Since Stu had taken his dad’s job as sheriff, he remembered stories his father had told. Those seemed to interest Bailey, too. She was especially interested in the feud between her family and the Staffords.

“Thanks, but I don’t need anything,” Stu had said, touched that Cooper would ask if he wanted anything from the West Coast. “Have a nice trip. When are you coming back?”

“Not sure. Only a day or two.”

He’d gotten the impression Coop had wanted to say more, but Stu had to take a call and his friend had waved goodbye as he’d left.

Excerpted from River Strong by B.J. Daniels. Copyright © 2023 by Barbara Heinlein. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author B.J. Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at www.bjdaniels.com, on Facebook at B.J. Daniels or through her reader group the B.J. Daniels' Big Sky Darlings, and on twitter at bjdanielsauthor.

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Spotlight: An Inconvenient Earl by Julia London

Publication Date: December 26, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

Bold. Beautiful. Beguiling.

It’s been over a year since Emma Clark’s no-good husband left on an expedition. The Countess of Dearborn has played the abandoned wife, but people are beginning to presume the earl is dead, which doesn't suit Emma at all. Emma likes being head of household in Albert’s absence and does her best to keep his family believing he is alive and well. She’s thirty years old and finally having some fun. If the earl is in fact dead, his family is waiting in the wings to swoop in and throw Emma out, leaving her destitute.

Then along comes Luka Olivien, the Weslorian Earl of Marlaine. He’s traveled all the way from Egypt, duty-bound to return to the countess her deceased husband’s precious pocket watch—only to discover she doesn’t know he’s dead… Or does she? It’s hard to tell. Luka catches glimpses of the desperate vulnerability beneath the party girl exterior and can’t help being drawn into the beguiling countess’s ruse.

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Butterhill HallEngland1871

Emma Clark was thinking of taking a lover. She had an itch that could not be scratched, one that was causing her to look at men—all men, whether short or tall, lean or round, old or young—with lust.

A sinful, and probably unpardonable, but undeniable fact.

After surveying the nearest candidates, she’d settled on Mr. John Karlsson, the new stablemaster at Butterhill Hall. He looked to be somewhere in the vicinity of her thirty-two years, had flaxen blond hair, arms as big around as her thighs, and an easy smile that sparkled in his blue eyes.

She’d made a habit of going down to the stables to watch him exercise the horses. She would call out to him. “That mount is full of vinegar today.” He’d laugh. “Toby would run straight to the sea if I let him.” Or she would note the excellent grooming of the horses’ coats. “They’re so shiny,” she would say approvingly, and he’d say proudly, “Aye, ma’am, I’ve a new lad in the stables.”

Sometimes, when one of the stable hands was putting a horse through its paces around the paddock, Mr. Karlsson would stand with his back to the fence, his elbows propped on the railing as he watched. He would remove his hat and drag his fingers through his hair. He smelled of horse and sunshine and salt.

On the opposite side of the fence, Emma liked to step onto the bottom rail and lean over the top one beside him. She’d attempt to make small talk. She’d run through various scenarios in her mind, different ways she might ask him if he would like a lover. She dismissed most of them as impractical or cringe-inducing. Propositioning a man didn’t come naturally to her, and she continued to be bewildered by what might be considered offensive versus what might be considered enticing. She’d even thought about consulting her very married sister, but she imagined Fanny would be appalled and spend an entire afternoon lecturing her why she could never ever do such a thing.

Then Emma decided that it ought to be his idea and mulled over ways to lead him to it.

After days of chatting about horses, she’d decided it would never come to fruition if she didn’t take the reins. Ironically. She came up with a scheme that seemed the least egregious of all she’d imagined—she would ask him to saddle a horse for her. She was not the best rider, but she was competent enough, and she thought she could manage to dislodge herself from the horse and fall—Lord knew she’d done it before—but in a manner that would necessitate her rescue.

She just hoped it didn’t hurt. Or that she didn’t break an arm or leg. Worse yet, her head.

On the day she was set to carry out her plan, she made her way to the stables. But Mr. Karlsson was in the company of a young girl, perhaps seven or eight years old. She had the same flaxen hair as he, the same lean build. Emma watched as he picked the girl up and swung her around so that her braids flew out like wind streamers. That laughing girl was the spitting image of him. Which meant, with a high degree of probability, that he was married.

Alas, so was Emma.

Ah, well. She changed course and walked away, leaving behind her dashed hopes of taking him as her lover.

Granted, there had been other obstacles besides marriage that she’d not yet established how to overcome. For example, the cumbersome business of her being the Countess of Dearborn, and thus, Mr. Karlsson’s employer. Ethics and morals were probably involved in a way she preferred not to think about.

She trudged on in disappointment. What was a woman of her age to do when her estranged husband was in Africa or some other far-flung place for months on end with no sign of ever returning? Not that she wanted that intolerable human being to return. But that didn’t mean she’d given up personal desires.

Emma hadn’t always thought Albert intolerable. Years ago, when he was wooing her, he’d been the perfect gentleman. He and his mother would come for supper, and he’d charm her and her family by reading a sonnet after the meal or singing along with Fanny to some tune. He escorted her to church and back and picked wildflowers for her along the way, which he would insert into her bonnet or her hair. He would call on her and Fanny with his friends and they’d play cards and laugh.

It had all been cordial and exciting and precisely the sort of thing Emma’s mother had promised her love would be.

Her parents were thrilled when Albert Clark, the Earl of Dearborn, asked for her hand in marriage and had happily trundled her off to holy matrimony unto death with a modest savings in the event she ever needed money of her own. Emma had been so sure of her and Albert’s mutual affection that she believed she would never need it. The sum had been tucked away, quietly collecting a small interest.

She’d expected marital bliss with Albert. She imagined evenings spent with him reading sonnets as she quietly did her needlework. She imagined they would entertain on occasion but would catch each other’s eye across a crowded room and realize they preferred their own company to anyone else’s. She imagined they would take long walks around the lake and travel to London and spend long winter nights tucked away in bed, making love.

The problem with expectations, she discovered, was that they rarely lived up to reality.

Curiously, from the start, Albert had seemed indifferent to their intimate relations. Which was precisely the opposite of what Fanny had said she might expect. Fanny said she’d spent the first few months of her marriage fending off her husband several times a day. Not Emma. At times, Albert had seemed downright annoyed with the prospect of it. And when he did perform his marital duty, he was not a man to take his time—he wanted it done as quickly as possible. Emma had tried everything she knew to make it more pleasant for him, which, in truth, was not a lot. And when she attempted to make things better, or more pleasurable, he said she made them worse.

And yet, Albert was obsessed with producing his obligatory heir. Unfortunately, human biology required that he have a working appendage, and increasingly, he did not. Every time he failed, he grew angry and verbally abusive. Every month that Emma didn’t conceive, he blamed her. Every month they tried again, but the coupling was rougher and devoid of affection. She’d begun to feel like a cheap vessel, misused and unappreciated.

He soon began to blame her for everything inside and outside of the marital bed. He belittled her and dressed her down in front of family and friends. Everything she said was open to ridicule. He avoided her presence and told others he found her company unendurable.

Emma sincerely believed she’d tried as hard as one might, but she came to loathe her husband. On the day he announced he was going on expedition to Africa, she could not have been happier. He said he needed to go and “clear his head” and didn’t know how long he’d be gone.

Emma secretly rejoiced and imagined being widowed in the event he was gored by a rhinoceros. His family, on the other hand, was distraught. What of the estate? Who would manage his wife? How could he leave them there alone with her?

His older sister Adele was a spinster who looked after his fourteen-year-old brother, Andrew. The boy needed Albert, Adele said. And really, wasn’t it Albert’s duty to remain in England until he’d sired his heir? “Your wife has passed her thirtieth year, Albert,” she’d said. “You haven’t long before she’s no longer any use to you.”

“She’s no use to me now,” he’d said sharply.

“I’m sitting right here,” Emma had reminded the siblings. “You do know that I am a person and not just a womb, don’t you?”

She’d received a tongue-lashing for mentioning her supposedly barren womb.

In the end, Albert turned a deaf ear to the pleas of his sister and prepared to leave. Emma was secretly giddy with happiness. She said she hoped the wind would always be at his back and privately hoped the winds would blow him all the way to China and he’d never return.

And indeed, it had been a beautiful ten months since Albert had left. Emma had begun to feel herself again, free to be who she was without fear of disparagement. She didn’t miss him in the slightest or wish for his return. What she wanted was love—physical, emotional, consuming love—and she would never have that from him.

She was beginning to fear love would not be hers to have. She was biding her time, waiting for her husband, wandering through her life, playing the role of countess and, in her husband’s absence, estate manager. She dined alone, slept alone, spent nights before the hearth alone. And while that was infinitely more desirable than spending that time with Albert, it did make for loneliness.

She reached the hall in something of a mood and tossed her hat carelessly onto a console as she walked into the foyer. Feeney, the butler, appeared from another corridor to take her hat. “You’ve a caller, my lady,” he said. “Mr. Victor Duffy.”

She so rarely had callers. “Who is that?”

“He did not say. He said he has news for you.”

News for her? How odd. It probably had something to do with the town house in London. A tax or something like it. “Thank you, Feeney. Whatever it is, I’ll dispose of it quickly and send him on his way so do stay close by.”

“Very good,” Feeney said.

The man standing in the receiving room was wearing a coat that had faded, the sleeves and hem frayed. His collar appeared to have a ring of dirt around his neck. His waistcoat strained across his paunch, and he’d combed his thinning hair over as much of his head as he could. He coughed as she entered, obviously trying to swallow it down, but as coughs were wont to do, it escaped him. “Lady Dearborn,” he said, and coughed again.

Emma unthinkingly took a step back. “Good day, sir. How may I be of help?”

He suffered a fit of coughing and removed a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth. “I do beg your pardon. I am perfectly well, but I think I’ve gotten a bit of the road in my throat.” He dabbed at his forehead, which, Emma noticed, had broken out with perspiration. “I’ve have come from Egypt.” He coughed again. “With news of your husband,” he rasped.

“Albert?” Just her luck. “And how does he fare?”

Mr. Duffy reached into the interior of his coat and withdrew an envelope and held it out to her. From where she stood, she could see her husband’s distinctive handwriting. She didn’t move to take it straightaway. “That’s from Albert?”

He nodded.

“You’ve come from Egypt to deliver it?”

He nodded again.

Emma sighed. “He might have posted it and saved you the trouble, Mr. Duffy.” She gingerly took the letter from him.

Mr. Duffy suffered another short fit of coughing. “Unfortunately, madam, I am the bearer of distressing news. You may want to sit.”

Well, now he had her attention. What could be more distressing than the news Albert was coming home? “I’m sturdier than I look. What news?”

He coughed again. He was starting to look a little gray.

“Would you like some water, Mr. Duffy?”

“No, no. Please don’t trouble yourself. I do beg your pardon. As I was saying, it is my solemn and distressing duty to inform you that your husband has…died.”

Emma froze. She was certain she’d misheard him. “Died?”

“Died. Yellow fever.”

She was stunned. So stunned that she didn’t believe him. “What?” Could it possibly be true? Could Albert really be dead? “Are you certain?”

“Quite.” He reached into his pocket again and withdrew a small leather pouch. He opened it and out dropped Albert’s signet ring. “He was buried immediately, as is the custom there.”

“Buried?” She was gaping at this man, her mind racing. Albert was dead? Her belly began to churn with confusion and sorrow and joy all at once. “Have you been to his sister?”

“No, ma’am. I have come to you first.” He tried to stifle another cough.

“Oh my,” she said, and turned away from him, her mind struggling to comprehend.

Mr. Duffy coughed and said hoarsely, “Shall I ring for your butler? Someone to help you?”

“No, no. I… I will manage.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. Would she manage? She stared at the wall, thinking. What did this mean? How would they memorialize him? What would happen to her? Had he left a will? How ridiculous of her to never have asked.

A sudden and tremendous thud startled her, and she whipped around. Mr. Duffy was lying facedown on the rug. “Mr. Duffy!” she cried and rushed to his aid. It took all her strength to roll him onto his back. His eyes were bulging, and his face was turning a shade of blue. Emma shoved the letter into her pocket and ran to the door, shrieking for Feeney.

The butler came running. Then came two footmen. One of the footmen fought with the knot of Mr. Duffy’s neck cloth to release it, but it was no use. Mr. Duffy was dead.

They carried the man to a bedroom and laid him out there until they could determine what to do with him.

In the chaos and days that followed that untimely death, no one asked why Mr. Duffy had come to call. Emma was grateful for it, because it gave her a chance to breathe, and when she did, she realized that had Mr. Duffy made it to Adele’s house, or had he gone there before he’d come to Emma, Albert’s little brother would be the earl now.

And she’d be…what? Out on her arse, that’s what, with nothing but her savings to lean on. She had no illusions about Adele’s regard for her or what she’d force Andrew to do.

And then it occurred to her: she was the only person who knew Albert was dead. No remains of her husband were going to suddenly appear, and apparently, his sole personal effect was in that leather pouch.

If everyone assumed Albert was alive, Emma could carry on as she had for the past ten months, living life on her own terms.

The letter Mr. Duffy had delivered had been one Albert had written presumably before he’d taken ill. He curtly informed her he’d be home by Christmas.

Emma tucked the signet ring where no one could find it. She burned Albert’s letter in the fire in her room. She said nothing to no one. Not even Carlotta, her lady’s maid and friend.

Emma was very good at keeping secrets.

Excerpted from An Inconvenient Earl by Julia London. Copyright © 2023 by Dinah Dinwiddie. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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About the Author

Julia London is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over sixty novels of historical and contemporary romance. She is the author of the popular Highland Grooms series as well as A Royal Wedding, her most recent series. Julia is the recipient of the RT Bookclub Award for Best Historical Romance and a six-time finalist for the prestigious RITA award for excellence in romantic fiction. She lives in Austin, Texas. Visit her at www.julialondon.com.

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Spotlight: Crime Paradise by Gene Desrochers

Boise Montague, Book 3

Noir Crime/Murder Mystery

Date Published: December 12, 2023

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Three bodies. One suspect. Zero time.

After his girlfriend ditches him at a concert, private investigator Boise Montague makes the latest bad mistake in a long line of them. Only this time, instead of waking up with a hangover and some woman he doesn’t know, he wakes up with a hangover on a Caribbean beach, along with three women.

All of whom are dead.

With the dead women’s blood all over his clothes, no memory of what happened, and no way for Boise to explain it, the cops and the prosecutors think it’s a slam dunk. Boise knows he didn’t do it, but no one’s willing to listen—so he’ll have to find the killer himself.

But whoever said the truth will set you free never saw anything like this. The people behind it are powerful, careful…and they want Boise out of the picture for good.

Soon, Boise will face not only present danger, but past pain, because the deeper he digs, the more skeletons he finds. And some of those skeletons are his own. But will he finally bury them—and the past—or will those skeletons bury him instead?

Perfect for lovers of Agatha Christi, Michael Connelly, and Richard Stark, bestselling author Gene Desrochers’ third book in the hardboiled Boise Montague mystery noir series will take you on an adventure into the dark side of crime, the darker side of memory, and the danger that comes to anyone who ventures into a Crime Paradise. Get your copy now!

Excerpt

Chapter 1

A couple wandered into Bob’s Store, where I’d been working to make extra cash. They selected a pair of matching two-dollar t-shirts from the large wooden bin fronting a wall of souvenirs adorned with “St. Thomas, Virgin Islands”.

“See ya, Wendel,” I yelled. “Heading out.” I checked back on the couple. The husband was busy admiring his wife’s tits as she held the t-shirt over her bikini top.

Wendel appeared from behind rows of boxes where he kept a table to examine his latest estate sales purchases. Tuffs of charcoal hair appeared all over his body and head like puffs of smoke expelling from pinpricks in his mottled brown skin. He sounded annoyed. “Leaving so soon, Boise? Thought I had you till five.”

“Reggae concert, remember?”

He scratched his scraggly head and burped. The couple’s perfect smiles faltered momentarily, then reappeared like a nasty case of the clap.

“Right, right. Don’t get too plastered, dude. I need you tomorrow. I gotta head down to Sub Base for a delivery.”

***

I hitched a ride in the back of a pickup headed east. From the cab, an old man and his wife smiled over their shoulders as I clambered into the truck bed. His arm draped over her shoulders.

Through the open rear window, I asked, “How long you two been married?”

“Forty-three years,” the woman said, beaming.

As I jostled around, I tried to imagine my wife’s smile. My wife’s breasts. Both were getting harder to remember. It didn’t matter. If she hadn’t died, we’d be divorced. Either way, marriage was a Rube Goldberg Machine. Complicated. Pointless. Evelyn had been my first and last.

The couple dropped me off in front of the concert tent. “Have a blessed time at the show,” the woman chimed. She had close-cropped hair and freckles like my mother.

Patrice had not wanted me to marry Evelyn. To her credit, my mother never said, “I warned you,” even after we found out Evelyn had cheated. Maybe it was because my wife had been killed the same day.

Yarey patted me on the back.

“What you thinking about?” she asked over the boom of the band.

Nice girl. Fun. Uncomplicated. Not interested in marriage … I presumed. We met on my last case, bonding over common trauma. Bad fathers. Hers a little worse than mine … maybe.

Yarey hummed along to the music. Perfect pitch. She wasn’t a lead singer though. But, she loved it and wanted being a singer, even if she wound up being a back-up, forever in the shadows. I didn’t love anything the way she loved singing.

“Nothing. Just zoning out to the music.”

She shot me a skeptical glance, then continued humming along until the song ended. People danced on clouds of smoke.

Evelyn and I smoked weed sometimes. She hadn’t liked reggae, but she tolerated my music, supported my interest with a birthday concert each year. She preferred Celine Dion and Anita Baker. I should have known something wasn’t right. My mother liked Celine, too.

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About the Author

Growing up in an 18-room guesthouse/wartime hospital in the Caribbean isn’t for everyone, but it proved just the right atmosphere for bestselling author Gene Desrochers to hone a sense of story, mystery, and scene that would prove critical in his writing career. Born on a tiny dot called “St. Thomas” (somewhere in the Caribbean), Desrochers migrated steadily west over the years until he found a home – with a wife who loves him, kids who are young enough to still think he’s pretty cool, and a cat who tolerates him – in the continental United States. He also found the time to earn a JD and become a practicing lawyer, run a tennis club, and publish award-winning short fiction in publications across the US and beyond. Now settled in the mysterious and exotic land known as Los Angeles, Desrochers splits his time between the loves of his life: his family, his writing, his tennis, and his ability to impress strangers with his St. Thomian accent. Find out more about him – and the worlds he creates – at his website, GeneDesrochers.com

Connect:

Website: https://genedesrochers.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ggdesrochers/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8290707.Gene_Desrochers

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorgenedesrochers/?hl=en

Spotlight: Mind-Stirring Business Secrets by Christen Hagan

Business Nonfiction

Date Published: July 28, 2023

Publisher: MindStir Media

INTRODUCTION WITH SHARK TANK'S KEVIN HARRINGTON AND WALL STREET JOURNAL & USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR J. J. HEBERT

Being an entrepreneur can be a challenging path. But what if it didn't have to be? What if you could tap into the expertise of a world-renowned entrepreneurial icon, an award-winning publishing CEO, a celebrity agent, real estate moguls, and a host of others who have been where you are ... that moment before things took off? What if they were willing to share some of the most important lessons from their journeys?

Mind-Stirring Business Secrets is a collection of wisdom offered by almost two dozen business leaders from a wide range of fields, all with one crucial thing in common--they turned their dreams into reality. And with their help, you can too.

Inside you'll find hacks to maximize your business valuation, the magic of co-creation and why it works, tips on becoming your best self so your business reaches its full potential, and much more. Give yourself the advantage of million-dollar mentors and their Mind-Stirring Business Secrets.

Authors who contributed to this book:

Christen Hagan, Darren Prince, Christopher Masiello, Jesse Haynes, Karl Yaacoub, Dr. Kathleen McAllister, Ami Mariscal, Ocean Eagle, Mark Paul, Jason Pliml, Bably Bhasin, Donald Williams, Paul Gunn, Dr. Britney Caruso, Norm Ashley, Jake Butler, Jack Atkinson, Myrielle Philistin, Carolyn Watkins, and Youngtae Kim

Excerpt

I’m sitting on stage next to Shark Tank’s Kevin Harrington at a business event in Tampa, Florida. Inventors are pitching us their products as we deliver feedback. The audience is full of entrepreneurs attentively taking notes, hoping for their turn to present to our panel. As Kevin hands me the microphone and I start to address the room, it’s hard to imagine that twenty-fi ve years ago, my family could barely make ends meet.

How did I arrive here? Perhaps my early years led me to this point. Mom was young, single, and supporting four maniacal children on a $30,000-a-year salary. Life wasn’t easy, but I always had this feeling that the future would be different.

We were always taken care of, with lots of love and food on the ta ble. But adversity was part of our everyday lives, as with many poor families. Where financial struggle exists, so does limitation. I felt the burden of being restricted by never having money, cars breaking down, needing new clothes, turning down social activities. But this limitation unveiled a profound realization for me: freedom was to become my ultimate driver in life.

My definition of freedom encompassed many areas—financial freedom, freedom with your time, freedom to live life the way you truly want. The desire for this freedom was so intrinsic, it is still a part of my very core. It is how I make decisions today, both personally and professionally.

As the oldest, I matured quickly and assumed a managerial identity early on. Leadership, though, came naturally. At the age of seventeen, I started reading books about building wealth and achieving your goals. Stephen Covey, Jim Rohn, Napoleon Hill, and other business writers molded me into the entrepreneur I was meant to become. Inside these pages were the answers to obtaining my freedom.

This leads me to my first “mind-stirring business secret . . .”

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