Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Fearless One by Lori Foster

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE FEARLESS ONE (Osborn Brothers Book #2) by Lori Foster on this HTP Books Romance Blog Tour.

Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Summary

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.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75339233-the-fearless-one?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=Zsno8wFaqU&rank=1

The Fearless One

Author: Lori Foster 

ISBN: 9781335517135

Publication Date: December 26, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE FEARLESS ONE (Osborne Brothers Book #2) by Lori Foster is a gripping, fast paced romantic suspense featuring another Osborne brother fighting injustice. While this story can easily be read as a standalone, there are carryover characters from the first book, and I enjoyed it more by reading The Dangerous One first.

Jedidiah “Diah” Osborne and her dog, Tuff arrive at the Colorado campgrounds Memphis Osborne has purchased to rehab and use in his plans. Diah is qualified in all the trades and really needs the job, but she also has her own reasons for showing up at this particular campground. When Diah begins sneaking around, she does not realize Memphis knows her every move.

Diah and Memphis feel a powerful attraction to each other, but they are both hiding secrets. When they warily agree to work together, Memphis’ protective instincts are on full alert, but Diah begins to fear her past may come back to take Memphis from her, too.

I have enjoyed this entire fictional world of vigilante characters from The McKenzie Series and then this offshoot of books with The Osborne Brothers. Diah’s past was heartbreaking and yet she was so strong and determined through it all even when she believed she was always afraid. Memphis was an excellent hero who was protective, smart, and sexy. I loved the witty back and forth dialogue between them before and after their secrets are revealed. The sex scenes are super-hot and explicit, but not gratuitous. The suspense plot in this book has a lot of set-up and you do not find out Diah’s background until half way through which made it drag a bit for me in the first half, but the second half takes off at a fast pace to the climax.

Overall, an exciting romantic suspense with wonderful main characters.

***

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.”

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

***

Author Bio

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.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Facebook: @Lori Foster

Twitter: @LoriLFoster

Instagram: @lorilfoster

Purchase Links

BookShop.org

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Heart Like a Cowboy by Delores Fossen

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for HEART LIKE A COWBOY (Cowboy Brothers in Arms Book #1) by Delores Fossen on this HTP Books Romance Blog Tour.

Below you will find a book summary, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Summary

He’s Emerald Creek’s hottest cowboy—and the one man she shouldn’t want

On the surface, Egan Donnelly is hometown hero material—top gun, commanding an elite fighter training squadron and ranching royalty. Inside, he feels like a fraud, convinced he’s responsible for his best friend’s death. At least he won’t let himself succumb to the heat between him and Jack’s widow, Alana. Yet. Now that she’s making regular trips to his ranch to care for his dad, that vow is getting harder to keep.

Alana Davidson isn’t just grieving her husband’s loss, she’s feeling betrayed over his secret infidelity. Wanting Egan makes things even more complicated. As a nutritionist, she can help Egan’s dad recover from his health scare, but it’s not so easy to get her own heart back on track. Because despite shared guilt and family pressure, she’s falling fast, and Egan is right there with her…

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/139910665-heart-like-a-cowboy

Heart Like a Cowboy

Author: Delores Fossen

ISBN: 9781335009487

Publication Date: November 28, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

HEART LIKE A COWBOY (Cowboy Brothers in Arms Book #1) by Delores Fossen is an emotional start to the new Cowboy Brothers in Arms series set in smalltown Emerald Creek, Texas. The Donnelly’s live on a generational ranch with all four siblings serving in the military on active duty. This story introduces the entire family and features the romance of the eldest brother, Lt. Col. Egan Donnelly.

Air Force Lt. Col. Egan Donnelly is both a hometown Top Gun hero and commander of an elite fighter training squadron and the eldest sibling in a ranching family. When his father has a massive heart attack, Egan takes a month’s leave to run the ranch and try to figure out how he will go forward. When his father returns home to recuperate, Egan comes face to face with the nutritionist working on his case. It is the sister of his ex-wife and the widow of his best friend, Jack, who he hoped to avoid. Egan has carried the guilt for Jack’s death from an IED when he was visiting him for three years.

Alana Davidson is the nutritionist helping Egan’s dad and while everyone still considers her Jack’s grieving widow, she is ready to move on from her grief. She had an argument with her husband right before he died overseas when she discovered he had cheated on their marriage. She is determined to tell Egan she feels just as responsible. Despite smalltown gossip and family interference Alan and Egan begin to discover they are ready to move on and stand together.

There are a lot of obstacles, twists, and surprises on the road to romance for Egan and Alana. I loved both fully developed characters because they communicated and did not play games. They also stood together when faced with smalltown gossip and the emotional adversity that Jack’s mother put them through. All the secondary characters added to the realism of the story and believable life situations. There are sexually explicit scenes in this romance, but they were not gratuitous. The introduction of the other siblings was entertaining, and I am looking forward to their stories in the future.

I recommend this first heartfelt book in the Cowboy Brothers in Arms series. Dolores Fossen is one of my favorite go-to cowboy romance authors and she never disappoints.

***

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

That whole deal about bad news coming in threes? Well, it was a crock. Lieutenant Colonel Egan Don- nelly now had proof of it.

First, there’d been the unexpected visitor, AKA the messenger, who’d started the whole bad-news ball rolling. That’d teach him to open his frickin’ door before he’d even finished his frickin’ coffee.

Then, there was the so-called celebration that would stir up the worst of his past and serve it up to him on a silver platter. Or rather on a disposable paper plate, anyway.

Then, a letter from his ex, which he figured was never a good sign. Who the heck actually wanted to hear from their cheating ex? Not him, that was for sure.

Those were the three things—count them: one, two, three—that was supposed to have been the final tally of bad crap even if for only a day, but apparently the creator of that old saying had no credibility what- soever. Then again, Egan had known firsthand that bad news didn’t have limited quantities.

Or expiration dates.

Now he was faced with ironclad confirmation that 

those other three things were piddly-ass drops in the proverbial bucket compared to bad-news number four.

And now, everything in his world was crashing and burning.

Again.

Thirty Minutes Earlier

In the dream, Lieutenant Colonel Egan Donnelly saved his best friend’s life. In the dream, the explosion didn’t happen. It didn’t blast through the scorched, airless night. Didn’t tear apart the transport vehicle.

Didn’t leave blood on the bleached sand.

Didn’t kill.

In the dream, Egan was the hero that so many people proclaimed he was. He made just the right decisions to save everyone, including Jack. Especially Jack.

Egan didn’t fight tooth and nail to come out of this dream—unlike the ones that were basically a blow-by-blow account of what had actually happened that god-awful night nearly three years ago. Those dreams were pits of the darkest level of hell where everything spun and bashed, stomping him down deeper and deeper into the real nightmare. Those dreams he fought.

Had to.

Because Egan had learned the hard way if he let those dreams play out, then it was a damn hard struggle to come back from them. Heck, he was still trying to come back from them.

Despite wanting to linger in this particular dream 

where he got to play hero, it didn’t happen, thanks to his phone dinging with a text. He frowned, noticing that it was barely six in the morning. Texts at this hour usually were not good. Considering that all three of his siblings were on active duty, not good could be really bad.

He saw his father’s name on the screen, and the worry instantly tightened Egan’s gut. His dad had just turned sixty so while he wasn’t in the “one foot in the grave” stage, he wasn’t the proverbial spring chicken, either. Added to that, his dad still ran the day-to-day operation of Saddlebrook, the family’s ranch in Emerald Creek, Texas. The ranch that’d been in the Donnelly family for over a hundred years and had grown and grown and grown with each succeeding generation. All that growth required hours of upkeep and work.

Found this when I was going through some old photo albums, his dad had texted.

What the heck? That gut tightness eased up, some, when Egan saw it was a slightly off-center image taken in front of the main barn on the ranch. His dad had obviously used his phone to take a picture of the old photo. Emphasis on old.

It was a shot that his grandmother, Effie, had snapped thirty years ago on Egan’s eighth birthday. His brother, Cal, would have been six. His sister, Remi, a two-year-old toddler, and his other brother, Blue, was just four. Stairsteps, people called them, since they’d all been born just two years apart.

In the photo, his dad, looking lean, fit and young, 

was in the center, flanked by Egan and Remi on the right, and Cal and Blue on the left. Remi and Blue were both grinning big toothy grins. Cal and Egan weren’t. Probably because they’d been old enough to understand that life as they’d known it was over.

Their lives hadn’t exactly gone to hell in a handbasket, but this particular shot had been taken only a couple of weeks after their mother had died from cancer. A long agonizing death that had left their dad the widower of four young kids. Still, his dad was eking out a smile in the picture, and he’d managed to gather all four of them in his outstretched arms.

Bittersweet times.

That’s when their mom’s mom, Grammy Effie, had come to Saddlebrook for what was supposed to have been a couple of months, until his dad got his footing. Effie was still living on the ranch thirty years later and had obviously put down roots as deep as his father’s.

Egan was wondering what had prompted his dad to go digging through old family albums when his phone dinged again. It was another text from his dad, another photo. It was an image that Egan also knew well, and he mentally referred to it as the start of phase two of his life.

The first phase had been with a loving mother that sadly he now couldn’t even remember. That had ended with her death. Phase two had begun when his dad had gotten remarried four years later to a young fresh-faced Captain Audrey Granger, who’d then been stationed at the very base in San Antonio 

where Egan was now. It was an hour’s commute to the ranch that Audrey had diligently made.

For a while, anyway.

In this shot, his dad and new bride dressed in blue were in the center, and both were flashing giddy smiles. Ditto for Remi and Blue. Again, no smiles for Cal and Egan since they’d been ten and twelve respectively and were no doubt holding back on the glee to see how life with their stepmom would all play out.

It hadn’t played out especially well.

But then, it also hadn’t hit anywhere near the “hell in a handbasket” mark, either.

If there’d been a family photo taken just two years later, though, Audrey probably wouldn’t have been in it. By then, she’d been in Germany. Or maybe England. Instead of an hour commute, she’d come “home” to the ranch a couple of times a year. Then, as her career had blossomed, the visits had gotten further and further apart. These days, Brigadier General Audrey Donnelly only came home on Christmas. If that.

Egan sent his dad a thumbs-up emoji to let him know he’d seen the pictures, and he was considering an actual reply to ask if all was well, but his alarm went off. He got up, mentally going through his schedule for the day. As the commander of the Fighter Training Squadron at Randolph AFB, Texas, there’d be the usual paperwork, going over some stats for the pilots in training, and then in the afternoon, he’d get to do one of the things he loved most.

Fly.

Of course, it would be under the guise of a training mission in the T-38C Talon jet, not the F-16 that Egan used to pilot, but it would still give him that hit of adrenaline. Still give him the reminder of why he’d first joined the Navy and then had transferred to the Air Force so he could continue to stay in the cockpit.

Egan showered, put on his flight suit, read through his emails on his phone and was about halfway through his first cup of coffee when his doorbell rang. He had the same reaction to it as he had the earlier text. A punch of dread that something was wrong. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and hardly the time for visitors. Especially since he lived in base housing and therefore wasn’t on the traditional beaten path for friends or family to just drop by.

Frowning, he went to the door. And Egan frowned some more when he looked through the peephole at the visitor on his porch. A woman with pulled back dark blond hair and vivid green eyes. At first glance, he thought it was his ex-wife, Colleen, someone he definitely didn’t want to see, but this was a slightly younger, taller version of the woman who’d left him for another man.

Alana Davidson, Colleen’s sister.

“Yes, I know it’s early,” Alana sighed and said loud enough for him to hear while she looked directly at the peephole. “Sorry about that.”

Wondering what the heck this was all about, he opened the door and got an immediate blast of heat. Texas in June started out hot as hell and got even hotter. Today was apparently no exception. He also 

got another immediate blast of concern because there was nothing about Alana’s expression that indicated this was a social visit.

Then again, Alana and he never had social visits.

Never.

Just too much old baggage, old wounds and old everything else between them. Ironic, since she’d been married to his best friend. Now, she was his dead best friend’s widow and bore that strong resemblance to his cheating ex-wife who’d left him just days before Jack’s death.

Egan was no doubt an unwelcome sight for her, too. He was the man who’d not only failed to keep her husband alive, but he was also the reason Jack had been in that transport vehicle in the first place.

So, yeah, old baggage galore.

“Sorry,” Alana repeated, looking up at him. Not looking at him for long, though. Like their avoidance of social visits, they didn’t do a lot of eye contact, either. “But I have an appointment at the base hospital in an hour, and I wanted to catch you before you went into work.”

“The hospital?” he automatically questioned.

She waved it off, clearly picking up on his concern that something might be medically wrong with her. “I’m consulting with a colleague on a chief master sergeant who’s being medically retired and moving to Emerald Creek. I’ll be working with the chief to come up with some lifestyle changes.”

Alana made that seem like her norm, and maybe it was. She was a dietitian, and because as Jack’s widow 

she still had a military ID card so she wouldn’t have had any trouble getting onto the base. Added to that, Emerald Creek was a haven for retirees and veterans since it was so close to three large military installations. There were almost as many combat boots as cowboy boots in Emerald Creek.

“How’d you know where I live?” he asked.

“I got your address from your grandmother.” She glanced over her shoulder at the street of houses. “I occasionally have consults here, but it’s the first time I’ve been to this part of the base.”

Yeah, his particular house wasn’t near the hospital, commissary or base exchange store where Alana would be more apt to go. Added to that, Jack had never been stationed here, which meant Alana had never lived here, either.

“Full disclosure,” she said the moment he shut the door. “You aren’t going to like any of what I have to say.”

Now it was Egan who sighed and braced himself for Alana to finally do something he’d expected her to do for three years. Scream and yell at him for allowing Jack to die. But there was no raised voice or obvious surge of anger. Instead, she took out a piece of paper from her sizeable handbag and thrust it at him.

“It’s a mock-up of a flyer that Jack’s mom intends to have printed up and sent to everyone in her known universe,” Alana explained.

At first glance, he saw that the edges of the flyer had little pictures of barbecue grills, fireworks, the 

American flag and military insignia. Egan intended to just scan it to get the gist of what it was about, but the scanning came to a stumbling slow crawl as he tried to take in what he was reading.

“Join us for a Life Celebration for Major Jack Connor Davidson, July Fourth, at the Emerald Creek City Park. It’ll be an afternoon of food, festivities and remembrance as a celebratory memorial painting for Jack will be unveiled by our own Top Gun hometown hero, Lieutenant Colonel Egan Donnelly.”

Well, hell. Both sentences were full-on gut punches and thick gobs of emotional baggage. Memorial. Life celebration. Remembrances. The icing on that gob was the last part.

Top Gun hometown hero.

Egan was, indeed, a former Top Gun. He’d won the competition a dozen years ago when he’d been a navy lieutenant flying F-16s. The hometown part was accurate, too, since he’d been born and raised in Emerald Creek, but that hero was the biggest of big-assed lies.

“I can’t go,” Egan heard himself say once he’d managed to clear the lump in his throat.

She nodded as if that were the exact answer she’d expected. “I’m guessing you’ll be on duty?”

He’d make damn sure he was, but wasn’t it ironic that the memorial celebration would fall on the one weekend of the month he usually went home to help his dad on the family ranch? Maybe Jack’s mom knew that, or maybe the woman just believed that such an event would be a good fit for the Fourth of July.

It wasn’t.

Barbecue, hot dogs, beer and such didn’t go well with the crapload of memories something like that would stir. He didn’t need a memorial or a life celebration to remember Jack. Egan remembered him daily, hourly even, and after three years, the grief and guilt hadn’t lost any steam.

“I’ll let Tilly know you can’t be there,” Alana said, referring to Jack’s mother. “She’s mentioned contacting your stepmom to see if she could be there for the unveiling.”

“Good luck with that,” he muttered, and Alana’s sound of agreement confirmed that she understood it was a long shot.

What would likely end up happening was that his brother Cal would get roped into doing the “honors.” He’d known Jack, and Cal’s need to do the right thing would have him stepping in.

“The last time I ran into Tilly, she didn’t want to discuss anything involving Jack’s death,” Egan recalled.

Alana nodded. “That’s still true. Nothing about how he died, et cetera. She only wants to chat about the things he did when he was alive.”

“So, why do a memorial painting?” Egan wanted to know.

“I’m not sure, but it’s possible the painting will be another life celebration deal that she’ll want hung in some prominent part of town like city hall or the library. In other words, maybe the painting will have nothing to do with Jack even being in the military.

Tilly was proud of him,” she quickly added. “But she’s never fully wrapped her mind around losing him.”

That made sense. The one time he’d tried to talk to her about Jack’s death, she’d shut him down. As if not talking about his death would somehow breathe some life back into him.

“There’s one more thing,” Alana went on, and this time she took a pale yellow envelope from her purse and handed it to him. “It’s a letter from Colleen.”

Egan had already reached for it but yanked back his hand as if the envelope were a coiled rattler ready to sink its fangs into his flesh. The mention of his ex-wife tended to do that. Memories of Colleen didn’t fall into the “hell on steroids” category like Jack’s. More like the “don’t let the door hit your cheating ass” category. Colleen had obviously liked that direction just fine since she hadn’t spoken a word to him since the divorce.

He glanced at the envelope, scowled. “A letter? Is it some kind of twelve-step deal about making amends or something?” he asked.

Alana shook her head. “No, I think it’s a living will of sorts.”

That erased his scowl. “Is Colleen dying?”

“Not that I know of, but she apparently decided she wanted to make her last wishes known. She sent letters for me, our aunt and your dad. I have his if you want to give it to him.”

Egan reached out again to stop her from retrieving it, and Alana used the opportunity to put the letter for him in his hand. “I don’t want this,” he insisted.

“Totally understand. I read mine,” she admitted. “Along with spelling out her end-of-life wishes—cremation, no funeral, no headstone—she wants us to have some sister time, like a vacation or something.”

Egan had no idea how much contact Alana and Colleen had with each other these days, but it was possible when Colleen had walked out on him, she’d also walked out on Alana. He thought he detected some animosity in Alana’s tone and expression.

He went straight to the trash can in the adjoining kitchen and tossed the envelope on top of the oozing heap of the sticky chicken rice bowl that had been at least a week past its prime when he’d dumped it the night before.

“I’m not interested in wife time with her,” he muttered, knowing he sounded bitter and hating that he still was.

Unlike what he was still going through with Jack, though, his grief and anger with Colleen had trickled down to almost nothing. Almost. He now just considered her a mistake and was glad she was out of his life. Some days, he could even hope that she was happy with the Mr. Wonderful artist that she’d left him for.

When he turned back to Alana, he saw she had watched the letter trashing, and she was now combing those jeweled green eyes over his face as if trying to suss out what was going on in his head. Egan decided to diffuse that with a question that fell into 

the polite small talk that would have happened had this been a normal visit.

“Uh, how are you doing?” he asked. On the surface, that didn’t seem to be a safe area of conversation since it could lead to that screaming rant over his huge part in her husband’s death. But Egan realized he would welcome the rant.

Because he deserved it.

Alana took a deep breath. “Well, despite nearly everyone in town deciding I should live out the rest of my life as a widow, I’ve started dating again.”

That got his attention. Not because he hadn’t known about the town’s feelings. And not because he believed she shouldn’t have a second chance at romance. But Egan had thought she didn’t want such a chance, that she was still as buried in the past as he was. Apparently not.

“I’m only doing virtual dating for now,” she went on, not sounding especially thrilled with that. “Last week, I had a virtual date with a guy who has six goats and eleven chickens in his one-bedroom apartment in Houston.”

Egan didn’t especially want to smile, but he did, anyway. “Sounds like a prize catch. You’d never have to buy eggs again. Or fertilizer.”

She shrugged. “He was a prize compared to the one I had the week before. Within the first minute of conversation, he wanted to know the circumference of my nipples.” Alana stopped, her eyes widening as if she hadn’t expected to share that.

Egan smiled again, but this one was forced. He 

hadn’t wanted Alana to think he was shocked or offended, though he was indeed shocked. He’d never considered nipple size one way or another.

He’d especially never considered anything about Alana’s nipples.

And he hated that was now in his head. That kind of stuff could mess with things that already had a shaky status quo.

“Dating at thirty-five isn’t as much a ‘fish in the sea’ situation as it is more of a, uh, well, swamp,” Alana explained. “Think scaly critters, slithery, that sort of thing, with the potential and hope that some actual fish lingering about will eventually come out of hiding.”

That didn’t sound appealing at all, but then he hadn’t had to hit any of the dating sites. He could thank the eternal string of matchmakers for that. Unlike the widowed Alana, apparently everyone thought a divorced guy in his thirties shouldn’t be solo. Especially a guy who’d had his “heart broken” when his wife had walked out on him right before his best friend had been killed.

“How about you?” she asked, clearly aiming for a change of subject and her own shot at small talk. “Have you jumped into dating waters?”

He shook his head. “Too busy.”

She broke their unwritten rule by locking her gaze with his for a second or two. “Yeah. Busy,” she repeated. And it sounded as if that were code for a whole bunch of things. For instance, wounded. Damaged. Guarded. Guilty.

All of the above applied to him.

It was hard for Egan to think about his happiness when he’d robbed Jack of his. Busy, though, was a much safer term for it.

“Well, I gotta go,” Alana said when the silence turned awkward, as it always did between them. “I’ll let Tilly know you won’t be at the life celebration so she can find someone else to do the unveiling.”

Egan frowned when a thought occurred to him. “She won’t ask you to do it, will she?” Because he couldn’t imagine that it’d be any easier for Alana than it would be for him.

“No.” Another sigh went with that. “Tilly still has me firmly in the ‘grieving widow’ category, which apparently will preclude me from lifting a veil on a painting and doing other things such as dating or appearing too happy when I’m in public.”

He wanted to ask, Aren’t you still a grieving widow? But that would go well beyond small talk. It could lead to an actual conversation that would drag feelings and emotions to the surface. No way did he want to deal with that.

Obviously, Alana wasn’t on board for such a chat, either, because she headed for the door, giving him a forced smile and a quick glance before she left and went to her car. Egan watched her, doling out his own forced smile and what had to be a stupid-looking wave.

Since he didn’t want to stand around and think about this visit, Colleen’s trashed letter—or Alana’s nipples—he grabbed his flight cap and keys so he could go to his truck. He barely made it a step, though, before his phone dinged with another text.

Great. Another photo trip down memory lane.

But it wasn’t.

It was his father’s name on the screen, but there was no picture. Only six words that sent Egan’s heart to his knees.

Get to Emerald Creek Hospital now.

Excerpted from Heart Like a Cowboy by Delores Fossen. Copyright © 2023 by Delores Fossen. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

***

Author Bio 

USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, has sold over 125 novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She’s received the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. In addition, she’s had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Facebook: @Delores Fossen

Twitter: @dfossen

Instagram: @deloresfossen

Purchase Links

BookShop.org

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s

Blog Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Death in Dutch Harbor by D. MacNeill Parker

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for DEATH IN DUTCH HARBOR by D. MacNeill Parker on this Authors Marketing Experts Blog Tour.

Below you will find an author Q&A, a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Rafflecopter giveaway. Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!

***

Author Q&A

How did you research your book?

Research was not required. Write what you know, right? As a longtime participant in the Alaska fishing industry, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to use my experience as the backdrop to this book. What could be more intriguing than creating a world where commercial fishing and murder meet? However, I knew nothing about police dogs and so made an inquiry with the Seattle Police K9 Unit. They invited me to their training site. I was so appreciative, I named the dog in the book after the K9 Unit shepherd, CoCo.

Which was the hardest character to write?

The arch villain. It was difficult for me to navigate how to leave clues without giving away the identity of the culprit. The protagonist was a bit of a struggle, a learning experience really. Because the book is written in third person, I wrote many revisions trying out ways to best express what was inside her head.

Which was the easiest?

The police chief was the easiest character to write. I have no idea why.

Where do you get inspiration for your stories?

Aside from my own experience at sea as a fisherman that included surviving a boat that sank off the coast of Kodiak, I’ve heard many sea stories, most far more interesting than my own. There’s something about living on the edge of civilization where your life is at the mercy of Mother Nature and your survival may depend on the skill of your crew mates that is made for drama.

There are many crime mystery books out there. What makes yours different?

As a former fisherman married to a fishing boat captain, and with a career as a journalist, fisheries specialist for the State of Alaska and a seafood company executive, I’ve got the credentials to pull off authenticity. And along the way, the reader will learn a lot about Alaska and commercial fishing.

In one sentence, what was the road to publishing like?

Because I am a debut author, it was like stumbling around in a hailstorm, knocking on the doors of strangers in hopes of finding shelter.

What authors inspired you to write?

There were many authors that inspired me to write like Kurt Vonnegut, John Irving, Craig Johnson, Michael Connelly, John Grisham, Martin Cruz Smith, Raymond Chandler, Agatha Christie and Dashell Hammett but the book that lit a writing fire under me as a teenager was John Barth’s book, The Sot-Weed Factor. It’s a wild ride of historical fiction that showed me there was no limit to using your imagination when crafting a yarn.

What is something you had to cut from your book that you wish you could have kept?

There was a scene between Dr. Mo and her pal, Patsy, in a restaurant that was painful to cut. Patsy, one of my favorite characters, used salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and catsup bottles and a fork to make a point about the doc’s messed-up personal life. It was near the end of the book where the pace had escalated. The scene slowed things down and, gulp, had to go. I hope to find a place for it in the second book!

What’s your next project?

I’m currently writing the second book of the series. So if you like the characters that inhabit DEATH IN DUTCH HARBOR, you can revisit them.

***

Book Synopsis

When two murders strain the police force of a remote Alaskan fishing port, veterinarian Maureen McMurtry is tapped by Dutch Harbor’s police chief for forensic assistance. The doctor’s got a past she’d rather not discuss, a gun in her closet, and a retired police dog that hasn’t lost her chops. All come in handy as she deciphers the cause and time of death of a local drug addict washed ashore with dead sea lions and an environmentalist found in a crab pot hauled from the sea in the net of a fishing vessel.

When her romantic relationship with a boat captain is swamped by mounting evidence that he’s the prime suspect in one of the murders, McMurtry struggles with her own doubts to prove his innocence. But can she? McMurtry’s pals, a manager of the Bering Sea crab fishery and another who tends Alaska’s most dangerous bar assist in unraveling the sinister truth.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/198615907-death-in-dutch-harbor

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

DEATH IN DUTCH HARBOR by D. MacNeill Parker is a captivating murder mystery featuring a female veterinarian in a remote Alaskan fishing port who gets pulled into a dangerous murder investigation by the local chief of police. I was surprised when I learned this is written by a debut author because it has everything I look for in a complex crime mystery and what I would expect from much more seasoned favorite authors.

Dr. Maureen “Mo” McMurtry loves the remote Alaskan town of Dutch Harbor where she and her retired police dog, Coco live, but she is looking for more in both her personal and professional lives now that her contract has ended. When a local frug addict and two endangered sea lions are found washed ashore dead on the beach, the chief of police asks for Mo’s help with basic forensics before the bodies are sent to the State Police in Anchorage. Then a second body is found in a crab pot caught in a fishing net and brought back to port.

The investigation involves Mo in the world of Alaskan fisherman and oil companies vs. environmentalists, illegal drugs, money, and lies. Mo may be the next corpse to wash up on shore if she and her friends cannot figure out who is willing to kill to hide their secrets.

I could not put this book down! Dr. Mo is the type of realistic protagonist I love to meet in a new book. She loves a harsh environment, I would hate, but she loves it and through her eyes you see the beauty of the environment and the strength of her friends and other inhabitants. They are all independent and hard-working on land and on the sea. You can feel through the author’s vivid descriptions of landscapes and the perils of commercial fishing her love of Alaska. The mystery plot is perfectly paced with twists that kept Mo on her toes and kept me guessing.

I highly recommend this murder mystery from this debut author! I am very happy that this will be a series and I will be able to visit Dr. Mo and her friends in Dutch Harbor again.

***

Excerpt

Eric took the blanket he’d laid on the ice bench and draped it over the guy’s shoulders; just a kid, really. He folded the kid’s hands so they lay on his lap and packed ice at his sides so he would remain secure for the rough ride back to port. Reaching into the chest pocket of his own jacket, he removed a pack of cigarettes. His hand shook as he lit two.

“We smoke the same brand,” he said, bending to wedge one in Guy’s gray lips. He smoked the other cigarette, all the while talking to the kid as if his spirit lingered nearby. “What a bummer,” he said, “dying so young.” He told the kid he would be missed by someone and promised to get him home. Hearing his voice crack, Eric turned away as if he didn’t want Guy to see him that way. Then he closed the freezer door.

Guy sat in the bait locker, the cigarette still hanging from his lips. The freezing temperature caused the saltwater on his eyelashes and beard to crystallize. He looked as if he were climbing Mt. Everest instead of sitting propped-up, dead in a fishing boat bait locker headed to Dutch Harbor, Alaska.

***

Author Bio

D. MacNeill Parkerand her family are long time participants in the Alaska fishing industry. In addition to fishing for halibut, salmon, crab, and cod, she’s been a journalist, a fisheries specialist for the State of Alaska, and a seafood company executive. She’s travelled to most ports in Alaska, trekked mountains in the Chugach range, rafted the Chulitna River, worked in hunting camps, and survived a boat that went down off the coast of Kodiak. Parker’s been to Dutch Harbor many times experiencing her share of white knuckler airplane landings and beer at the Elbow Room, famed as Alaska’s most dangerous bar. While the characters in this book leapt from her imagination, they thrive in this authentic setting. She loves Alaska, the sea, a good yarn and her amazing family.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.dmparkerauthor.com/

Amazon: http://amzn.to/46fPtGv

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/198615907-death-in-dutch-harbor

###

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Author Marketing Experts:

Twitter: @Bookgal

Instagram: @therealbookgal

Book Tour/Feature Post and Mini Book Review: Girl Among Crows by Brendon Vayo

Girl Among Crows

by Brendon Vayo

October 30 – November 24 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for GIRL AMONG CROWS by Brendon Vayo on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my mini book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Kingsumo giveaway! Good luck on the giveaway and enjoy!

***

Book Description

Beware the Brotherhood of the Raven

When two boys vanish from her hometown, Daphne Gauge notices uncanny parallels to her brother’s disappearance 30 years earlier. Symbols of an ancient Norse god. Rumors of a promise to reward the town’s faithful with wealth and power, for a price. She warns her husband that another sacrifice is imminent, but just like last time, no one believes her.

This leaves her with a desperate choice: investigate with limited resources, or give in to the FBI’s request for an interview. For years, they’ve wanted a member of the Gauge family to go on record about the tragedy back in 1988. If she agrees to a deposition now, Daphne must confess her family’s dark secrets. But she also might have one last chance to unmask the killer from back then . . . and now.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122757687-girl-among-crows?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=nkIUA7o05e&rank=1

Girl Among Crows

Genre: Horror, Suspense
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: November 2023
Number of Pages: 416
ISBN: 9780744306552 (ISBN10: 0744306558)

***

My Mini Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

GIRL AMONG CROWS by Brendon Vayo is an interestingly unique and atmospheric horror story with elements of suspense and mystery with Norse mythology influence.

This is a difficult book to review because I am afraid of giving away any important plot points. You have to give this book a chance to get going because at first a lot of information is given that did not make sense to me, but it is relevant later, and it will come together and move more quickly as the story progresses. The mystery unravels in two timelines, Daphne’s past and present, with the disappearance of young boys in both timelines and the Brotherhood of Crows playing an important part in both. Daphne is so complex because she wants to solve the disappearances, but at the same time she would be betraying those closest to her. One word that I did look up that helped in my understanding early on in the story was “blot” which is Old Norse for an exchange in which they did a blood sacrifice to the gods in order to get something in return.

I am very glad I gave this book a try because it did turn out to be an engrossing read. If you are into dark horror with suspense and mystery this is definitely the book for you.

***

Excerpt

My husband Karl shakes hands with other doctors, a carousel of orthopedic surgeons in cummerbunds. I read his lips over the brass band: How’s the champagne, Ed? Since he grayed, Karl wears a light beard that, for the convention, he trimmed to nothing. 

The ballroom they rented has long windows that run along Boston’s waterfront. Sapphire table settings burn in their reflections. 

The food looks delicious. Rainbows of heirloom carrots. Vermont white cheddar in the macaroni. Some compliment the main course, baked cod drizzled with olive oil. My eyes are on the chocolate cherries. Unless Karl is right, and they’re soaked in brandy. 

At some dramatic point in the evening, balloons will drop from nets. A banner sags, prematurely revealing its last line. 

CELEBRATING THIRTY YEARS! 

Thirty years. How nice, though I try not to think that far back. 

I miss something, another joke. 

Everyone’s covering merlot-soaked teeth, and I wonder if they’re laughing at me. Is it my dress? I didn’t know if I should wear white like the other wives. 

I redirect the conversation from my choice of a navy-blue one-shoulder, which I now see leaves me exposed, and ask so many questions about the latest in joint repair that I get lightheaded. 

The chandelier spins. Double zeroes hit the roulette table. A break watching the ocean, then I’m back, resuming my duties as a spouse, suppressing a yawn for an older man my husband desperately wants to impress. A board member who could recommend Karl as the next director of clinical apps. 

I’m thinking about moving up, our careers. I’m not thinking dark thoughts like people are laughing or staring at me. Not even when someone taps me on the shoulder. 

“Are you Daphne?” asks a young man. A member of the wait staff. No one should know me here; I’m an ornament. Yet something’s familiar about the young man’s blue eyes. Heat trickles down my neck as I try to name the sensation in my stomach. 

“And you are?” I say. 

“Gerard,” he says. The glasses on his platter sway with caffeinated amber. “Gerard Gedney. You remember?” 

I gag on my ginger ale. 

“My gosh, I do,” I say. “Gerard. Wow.” 

Thirty years ago, when this convention was still in its planning stages, Gerard Gedney was the little boy who had to stay in his room for almost his entire childhood. Beginning of every school year, each class made Get Well Soon cards and mailed them to his house. 

We moved before I knew what happened to Gerard, but with everything else, I never thought of him until now. All the growing up he must’ve done, despite the odds, and now at least he got out, got away. 

“I beat the leukemia,” he says. 

“I’m so glad for you, Gerard.” 

If that’s the appropriate response. The awkwardness that defined my childhood creeps over me. Of all the people to bump into, it has to be David Gedney’s brother. David, the Boy Never Found. 

My eyes jump from Gerard to the other wait staff. They wear pleated dress pants. Gerard’s in a T-shirt, bowtie, and black jeans. 

“I don’t really work here, Daphne,” says Gerard, sliding the platter onto a table. “I’ve been looking for you for a while.” 

The centerpiece topples. Glass shatters. An old woman holds her throat. 

“Gerard,” I say, my knees weak, “I understand you’re upset about David. Can we please not do this here?” 

Gerard wouldn’t be the first to unload on what awful people we were. But to hear family gossip aired tonight, in front of my husband and his colleagues? I can’t even imagine what Karl would think. 

“I’m not here about my brother,” says Gerard. “I’m here about yours.” His words twist. 

“Paul,” I say. 

“What about him?” “I’m so sorry,” says a waiter, bumping me. Another kneels to pick up green chunks of the vase. When I find Gerard again, he’s at the service exit, waiting for me to follow. 

Before I do, I take one last look at the distinguished men and a few women. The shoulder claps. The dancing. Karl wants to be in that clique—I mean, I want that too. For him, I want it. 

But I realize something else. They’re having a good time in a way I never could, even if I were able to let go of the memory of my brother, Paul.

The catering service has two vans in the alleyway. It’s a tunnel that feeds into the Boston skyline, the Prudential Center its shining peak. 

Gerard beckons me to duck behind a stinky dumpster. Rain drizzles on cardboard boxes. 

I never knew Gerard as a man. Maybe he has a knife or wants to strangle me, and all this news about my brother was bait to lure me out here. I’m vulnerable in high heels. But Gerard doesn’t pull a weapon. 

He pulls out a postcard, its edges dusty with a white powder I can’t identify. The image is of three black crows inscribed on a glowing full moon. 

“I found it in Dad’s things,” says Gerard. “Please take it. Look, David is gone. We’ve got to live with the messes our parents made. Mine sacrificed a lot for my treatment, but had they moved to Boston, I probably would’ve beat the cancer in months instead of years.” 

“And this is about Paul?” I say. 

“When the chemo was at its worst,” says Gerard, “I dreamed about a boy, my older self, telling me I would survive.” 

I take my eyes off Gerard long enough to read the back of the postcard: 

$ from Crusher. Keep yourself pure, Brother. For the sake of our children, the Door must remain open. 

Crusher. Brother. Door. No salutation or signature, no return address. Other than Crusher, no names of any kind. The words run together with Gerard’s take on how treatment changed his perspective. 

Something presses my stomach again. Dread. Soon as I saw this young man, I knew he was an omen of something. And when is an omen good? 

“Your dad had this,” I say. “Did he say why? Or who sent it?” 

An angry look crosses Gerard’s face. “My dad’s dead,” he says. “So’s Brother Dominic. Liver cancer stage 4B on Christmas Day. What’d they do to deserve that, huh?” 

“They both died on Christmas? Gerard, I’m so sorry.” First David, now his dad and Dominic? He stiffens when I reach for him, and, of course, I’m the last person he wants to comfort him. “I know how hard it is. I lost my mom, as you know, and my dad ten years ago.” 

The day Dad died, I thought I’d never get off the floor. I cried so hard I threw up, right in the kitchen. Karl was there, my future husband, visiting on the weekend from his residency. I didn’t even think we were serious, but there he was, talking me through it, the words lost now, but not the comfort of his voice. 

I looked in his eyes, daring to hope that with this man I wouldn’t pass on to my children what Mom passed down to me. 

“Mom’s half-there most days,” says Gerard. “But one thing.” 

The rear entrance bangs open, spewing orange light. Two men dump oily garbage, chatting in Spanish. 

“Check the postmark, Daphne,” says Gerard at the end of the alleyway. He was right beside me. Now it’s a black bird sidestepping on the dumpster, its talons clacking, wanting me to feed it. I flinch and catch Gerard shrugging under the icy rain before he disappears. 

The postmark is from Los Angeles, sent October last year. Six months ago, George Gedney received this postcard. Two months later, he’s dead, and so is another son. 

What does that mean? How does it fit in with Paul? 

Though he’s gone, I keep calling for Gerard, my voice strangled. Someone has me by the elbow, my husband. Even in lifts, Karl’s three inches shorter than me. 

“Daphne, what is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Colquitt. I need Sheriff Colquitt or . . .” Voices argue in my head, and I nod at the hail swirling past yellow streetlamps. “Thirty years ago, Bixbee was a young man. He might still be alive.” 

“Daphne, did that man hurt you? Hey.” 

Karl demands that someone call the police, but I shake him. 

“It’s fine, Karl,” I say, dialing Berkshire County Sheriff ’s Office. “Gerard’s a boy I knew from my hometown.” 

Karl’s calling someone too. “Some coincidence,” he says. 

Though it wasn’t. Here I am trying not to think about the past, and it comes back to slap me in the face as though I summoned it. Paul. The little brother I vowed to protect. 

The phone finally picks up. “Berkshire Sheriff’s Office.” 

“Hello,” I say, “could I leave a message for Harold Bixbee to call me back as soon as possible? He is or was a deputy in your department.” 

“Uh, ma’am, I don’t have anyone in our personnel records who matches that name. But if it’s an emergency, I’d be glad—”
I hang up. Damn. I should’ve known at nine p.m., all I’d get is a desk sergeant. I’d spend half the night catching him up to speed. 

“Daphne.” My husband lowers his phone, looking at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I asked Ed to pull the hotel’s security feed. You’re the only one on tape.” 

“What? No.” 

“It shows that you walked out that door alone,” says Karl, gesturing, “and I come out a few minutes later.” 

The Door must remain open. 

Dread hardens, then the postcard’s corner jabs my thumb. I’m about to show Karl my proof when I realize that now there are only two crows in the moon. 

“How’d he do that?” I keep flipping it, expecting the third one to return, before I sense my husband waiting. Distantly, I hear wings flap, but it could be the rain. “Gerard wanted me to have his dad’s postcard.” 

“So this boy Gerard comes all the way from Springfield to hand you a postcard,” Karl says. “And he can magically avoid cameras?” 

“I’m not from Springfield,” I say, shaking off a chill. Magically avoid cameras. And Gerard can turn pictures of crows into real ones too. How? 

“You seem very agitated,” says Karl. “Want me to call Dr. Russell? Unless . . .” Karl’s listening, just not to me. “Ed says the camera angles aren’t the best here. There’s a few blind spots.” 

“I said I’m not from Springfield, Karl. Any more than you’re from Boston.” 

My husband nods, still wary. “Boston is more recognizable than Quincy. But how does your hometown account for why Gerard isn’t on the security footage?” 

I lick my lips, my hand hovering over Karl’s phone. 

When we first met, I wanted to keep things upbeat. Me? I’m a daddy’s girl, though (chuckling) certainly not to a fault. In the interest of a second date, I might’ve understated some things. 

“Here,” I say, “it’s more like I’m from the Hilltowns. It’s a remote area.” My lips tremble, trying to force out the name of my hometown. “I was born and raised in New Minton, Karl.” 

Somewhere between Cabbage Patch Kids and stickers hidden in a cereal box, the ones Paul demanded every time we opened a new Crøønchy Stars, is recognition. I can tell by the strange flicker on Karl’s face. 

“The New Minton Boys,” he says. “All those missing kids, the ones never found.” Karl is stunned. “Daphne, you’re from there? Did you know those boys? God, you would’ve been a kid yourself.” 

“I was eleven,” I say. And I was a kid, a selfish kid. I came from a large family. Brandy was seventeen, Courtney fifteen, Ellie nine, and Paul seven. 

The day before my brother disappeared, I wasn’t thinking that this night was the last time we’d all be together. I wasn’t thinking about the pain Mom and Dad would go through, especially after the town gossip began. 

No. I thought my biggest problems in the world were mean schoolboys. So I ruined dinner. 

“Daphne?” Now Karl looks mad. “That’s a big secret not to tell your husband.” 

If only he knew.

***

Author Bio

Brendon Vayo was born in Okinawa, Japan, and now lives in Austin, TX. He has a wonderful wife and three children. The kids keep him awake at night, so he hopes his books do the same to you.

Social Media Links

Goodreads
Instagram – @brendonvayo
Twitter/X – @brendonvayo3
Facebook

Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

###

KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

https://kingsumo.com/g/s78zfa/girl-among-crows-by-brendon-vayo-arc

Blog Tour: Feature Post and Book Review: Pretend With Me by Emily Mayer

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for PRETEND WITH ME (Beacon Hill Book #1) by Emily Mayer on this AME blog tour.

Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Synopsis

One phone call was all it took to upend my entire life in completely unexpected ways.

Whoever said that you can’t go home again was a lair. After the senior year from hell, I had spent a decade trying to avoid Beacon Hill and its residents. My luck came to a sudden end after daddy had an incident with a rotted floor. In and out, I promised myself. I was just there to help my parents for a week or two tops.

Things in Beacon Hill hadn’t changed much since I’d been home last. Mama still worked at the hub of gossip known as Trixie’s, Mrs. Thomas still made the best chicken salad in all of Georgia, and my sister was still the devil in a pushup bra. And of course, the St. James family was still local royalty. Our very own version of the Kennedys.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that, not only is my sister back in town after a failed modeling career, she’s also engaged to Macon St. James. The golden boy of Beacon Hill, and the star of every single one of my teenage fantasies.

The biggest surprise of all was Holden St. James. I thought he would be one of the villains in this story, but I was learning that I had been wrong about a lot of things. And Holden just might be worth coming home for….

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/196714708-pretend-with-me

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

PRETEND WITH ME (Beacon Hill Book #1) by Emily Mayer is an enchanting contemporary romance with two people who should not have worked, but discovered they did. This is the first book I have read by this author, and it hooked me immediately and I fell right into the story.

Sutton grew up in the shadow of her older beauty pageant sister, Sissy. Sutton preferred jeans, tennis shoes, fanfics, and computers. As they grew older, they grew further apart with Sissy always having to be the center of attention and always get what she wanted. When Sutton found out her sister slept with her best friend’s boyfriend, Macon St. James and the boy Sutton secretly had a crush on, she confronted her and told her parents. Sissy got her revenge and Sutton ran from Beacon Hill after she graduated from high school.

Ten years later, Sutton is working as a coder for a gaming company in Savannah, when she gets called back home to help her father after a workplace injury. When she returns, she learns Sissy is back from L.A. and marrying Macon. She is expected to be in maid of honor and is paired with Holden St. James, Macon’s strait-laced older brother. What she discovers is that Macon and Holden are very different from her high school memories, and she begins to realize she may have dreamed about the wrong brother.

I absolutely love Sutton and Holden and loved to hate Sissy. This romance pulled me right into the story with its snarky and witty dialogue between all the characters. I laughed out loud so many times especially when Sutton and Max were together and when Sutton’s guinea pigs were discussed. (I had the same surprise guinea pig babies happen to me!) All the secondary characters are fully developed and realistic. The chemistry builds steadily through the romance plot and there is only one sex scene almost at the end of the book, which is explicit and smokin’ hot, but not gratuitous. Since this will be a series, I am very excited that I will be able to visit Beacon Hill and hopefully all these characters again in the future.

I highly recommend this delightful and entertaining contemporary romance!

***

Excerpt

Once he was all settled, I got into the front seat and took a fortifying drink of my coffee.

“Okay, big guy, let’s set some ground rules for this drive.” I met his narrowed gaze in the mirror and smiled widely. “I don’t want to hear one single word about where my hands are on the wheel, the speed limit, the space between cars, or motion sickness. Got it?”

“Sutton Louise Buchanan, I was there for the day you took your first breath and I can — ”

“Good enough.” I turned the engine on and put the truck in reverse. “Why are you working on a Saturday anyway?”

“I want to make sure my crew stays on schedule while I’m laid up.” Daddy leaned forward and reached between the seats to grab his coffee. “It’s a real big job so I don’t want to fall behind right out of the gate if it can be helped.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Where are we headed?” I came to a stop at the sign just at the end of our street.

“To the old Bradford place.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise as I turned the truck in the right direction, memory taking over. The old farmhouse had originally been built in the mid-1800s and had been renovated sporadically until the owners abandoned it in the 1980s. It was a beautiful old house — or it had been — with big porches and a sunroom that had been added on at some point. Something about that house had always called to me. I’d daydreamed about being the one to finally breathe life back into it, restore it to its former glory. Of course, all that was before Sissy had made staying here seem impossible.

There were always lots of rumors circulating about why the Bradfords had abruptly moved away after living and farming on the land for centuries, but no one really knew the reason. Beacon Hill loved its gossip. A local favorite was that one of the Mr. Bradfords had killed his entire family, and their ghosts haunted the house. Every Halloween, high schoolers would break in and try to spend the night inside. I had never been invited.

“Someone finally bought that old place?”

“Sure did, and it’s a total gut job. There were structural issues.” Daddy sounded practically gleeful at the prospect. I pictured dollar signs floating around his head like little cartoon hearts.

“I’m really happy to see that house get the love it deserves, but whoever bought it either has too much money or is an idiot.”

Daddy was silent, his fingers playing a rhythm on his Thermos.

“Well, I’d say it’s probably the former.” Daddy paused. “I don’t think anyone can call Holden St. James an idiot.”

“What?” I screeched, whipping my head around to look at him and jerking the steering wheel in the process, causing us to briefly veer off the road and onto the shoulder.

“Eyes on the road, Sutton!” Daddy yelled, bracing himself. “Jesus remember me, how many times can a man almost die in one week?”

Car in the proper lane, I took a deep breath.

“Did you just say Holden St. James bought the old Bradford place?”

“If I answer that question, are you going to be able to maintain control of the vehicle?”

I rolled my eyes, but kept them facing forward — both for safety and so Daddy wouldn’t see it.

“You’re getting dramatic in your old age. I was just surprised. It doesn’t seem like someplace Holden St. James would be interested in living. I pictured him in a sterile, ultra-modern penthouse where every single piece of furniture makes a statement and is uncomfortable.”

“Think highly of the boy, do you?” Daddy drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm.

I shrugged, reaching for my coffee. Daddy cleared his throat pointedly, and I immediately returned my hand to the wheel.

“I’d be a better driver if I was fully caffeinated,” I mumbled. “Oh! I bet he’s going to flip it. That makes sense. The property value on that place will probably be insane once you’re done with the renovation, especially with all the land it sits on.”

***

Author Bio

Emily Mayer is a part-time lawyer, full time storyteller, and an aspiring writer. She lives in Central Ohio with the two loves of her life; her husband and her dog. If she isn’t working, you can usually find her somewhere with a book in her hand.

Social Media Links

Website: https://emilymayerbooks.com/

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

Purchase Link

Amazon: http://amzn.to/3PoO1fq

###

RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/463009dc5/

Author Marketing Experts

Twitter: @Bookgal

Instagram: @therealbookgal

Blog Tour/Feature Post: Wyoming Proud by Diana Palmer

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post for WYOMING PROUD (Wyoming Men Book #12) by Diana Palmer on this HTP Books Romance Blog Tour.

Below you will find a book summary, an excerpt from the book, and the author’s bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Summary

Businesswoman Erianne Mitchell falls hard for entrepreneur Ty Mosby and they quickly get engaged. But their whirlwind romance ends quickly when he gets faulty information that she betrayed him in business. They part ways, leaving both heart-broken, confused, and Erianne secretly pregnant, not to mention blacklisted for every company in town. 

Erianne has to start over and she goes to Wyoming to care for her growing child. Even though furious that Ty didn’t believe in her, she can’t help missing the man she loves. She builds a life with her child and by cleaning houses.

By accident, as she’s rushing to the doctor with her baby, she and Ty see each other. He knows she never deceived him, but can ever get Erianne to trust him again?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/75339232-wyoming-proud?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=pcTK5UHJCU&rank=1

Wyoming Proud

Author: Diana Palmer

ISBN: 9781335513090

Publication Date: October 24, 2023

Publisher: Canary Street Press

***

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Ty Mosby was bored out of his mind. He could have been home with his sister, Annie, watching that dragon drama on cable. Even that would be better than this stupid office party with two women drooling over him. One was recently divorced. The other was married. Women!

He turned around and almost fell over Erianne Mitchell. Well, her name was Erianne. Nobody called her that. She was just Erin to Ty and his sister, Annie. He glowered at her.

“It’s not my fault that you’re gorgeous,” she teased. “Mary over there has forgotten her ex-husband in her fever to get you into a dark room. And Henrietta—” she nodded toward a gan- gly woman with wild dark hair who was sighing into her drink as she studied him over it “—hasn’t given her husband a thought all night. Just as well,” she added under her breath, “because he’s running around with the Tarver woman.”

“What are you, the town crier?” he chided.

“It’s a nasty job, but somebody has to do it,” she replied with sparkling gray eyes. She laughed and half turned away, her dark hair in an elegant chignon at the back of her neck. “And there’s

Grace. Didn’t you date her last year?”

“Oh, God,” he groaned.

“There, there, she hasn’t noticed you. She’s too busy trying to get Danny Barnes to notice her. He just inherited his grandfather’s ranch over in Comanche Wells.”

“I’ve had my fill of social climbers,” he muttered. He was giving her the once-over with black eyes. “On the other hand, there’s you.”

“Oh, don’t be absurd, I’m not your type,” she murmured, her mind on something else altogether. It was a lie. She’d loved him forever, but Ty couldn’t see her for dust. And why should he? She was plain compared to the women who chased him. He was absolutely gorgeous. He had jet-black hair and black eyes, and light olive skin that made him look even more gorgeous in that spotless white shirt he was wearing with his dinner jacket and slacks. No wonder women drooled over him. Erin had drooled over him for years and hid it so carefully that not even his sister realized it.

“Why not?” he asked, really curious.

“I don’t run around with men.”

He blinked. “You run around with women?”

“I don’t run around period.”

“You’re what, now, twenty-five? You’d better run around with somebody or you’re going to get left behind.”

“You’re thirty-one and you’re already left behind. Besides, I work for you,” she added. “I don’t get involved with people that I work for.”

“We could make an exception,” he pointed out.

She glared at him. “Tyson Regan Mosby,” she said, exasperated. “If you keep this up, I’m calling Annie.”

“God forbid!” he groaned.

“She loves you. She’ll protect you from predatory females.”

“I’ll give you a great job recommendation if you’ll find my sister a husband,” he coaxed.

“Annie doesn’t want to get married yet,” she said. “Any more than you do. And I don’t need a job recommendation unless you have in mind firing me tonight.”

He made a face. “I don’t have enough people as it is. Other San Antonio businesses keep luring our best people away. Even the ones I fire.” He didn’t like firing people, but he sometimes had to. Even though his company was headquartered in San Antonio, people from Jacobsville worked for it. Mosby Construction Company had grown under Ty’s management. He’d taken a little construction company owned by his father and built it into a major contender. He had a degree in architecture. He loved to build things.

He had inherited wealth, he and Annie, and he didn’t really need to work. But he loved his job. And San Antonio was the best place for his company headquarters, although he and Annie still lived in Jacobsville. Ty and Annie were direct descendants of the town’s founder, Big John Jacobs, who’d talked his father-in-law into putting a a railroad through Jacobsville and built it into a cattle shipping center in south Texas back in the nineteenth century.

“Well, isn’t that just like you,” she said, exasperated. “I brought you a brand new human resources manager just last week!”

“He drinks vodka,” he said irritably. “I don’t trust men who drink vodka.”

“How do you know what he drinks?” she asked.

“I asked him.”

“Oh.”

“What are you looking for?” he probed.

“Clarence.”

“Excuse me?”

“Clarence Hodges,” she muttered, peering over a nearby woman’s shoulder. “He’s like my personal devil. I can’t turn around at a party without running into him.”

He didn’t like that, but he hid it. “What does he want?”

She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “He wants me!”

“Why?”

She really rolled her eyes. “Annie needs to get you a book or something about human relationships.”

He grinned. “I think I can figure those out without self-help diagrams.”

“Can you, now?” she murmured absently, still looking for Clarence.

He’d known her for years. She was as familiar to him as her best friend, his only sibling, Annie. She’d spent weekends with them all through high school and through community college, where Erin got an associate’s degree in business education. She was great at cost estimates, which was her position in the company. She had a brilliant mind for math. She could do most anything on a computer, even rework spreadsheet programs that he used in his construction company. She was his right arm at work, perfectly capable of standing in for him at meetings because she knew the business inside out. Of course, why wouldn’t she, when she’d worked there part-time through high school and full-time during and after college. He trusted her. Well, on a professional basis. He wasn’t keen on thinking about anything more personal. Erin was standoffish. Once, just once, he’d teased her about going dancing with him and she’d mumbled something noncommital and shot out of the room.

He’d never admit it, of course, but it had bruised his ego. Erin wasn’t beautiful. She had pleasant features. Nice mouth, pretty complexion, gorgeous figure, sparkling eyes. But she dressed like an old woman most of the time, and she never seemed to date anyone. He’d wondered why. He’d even asked Annie, but all he got was a blank look and a smile.

He studied Erin while she looked around for the man she dreaded seeing. It wasn’t so much how she looked that made her attractive, he decided finally; it was her personality. She was warm and friendly to most people, outrageously funny around friends, and she loved animals. That last thing was important to him, because he bred and trained purebred German shepherds.

His dogs were like part of the family. They lived inside with him and Annie in their huge inherited mansion in Jacobsville, Texas. The puppies, when he bred them, had their own room and a caretaker who watched over them and kept their living quarters spic and span and odorless. He rarely had more than one litter a year and by a different female each year, from an outside stud male. No interbreeding at all, because it invited birth defects. He loved the pups when they came and had to be persuaded to give them up for adoption. Even so, he actually ran background checks on potential adopters, right down to requiring photographs of their yards and the pup’s living quarters. He was protective.

A recent adopter had taken a leather strap to his puppy when it made a mess on the carpet, and a neighbor had seen and heard what was going on. She’d promptly phoned Annie, who told Ty. He’d gone to the owner’s house that very day, accompanied by police chief Cash Grier and the local vet, Dr. Bentley Rydel, along with a search warrant that would give them access to the dog in question.

To say that the man was shocked was an understatement. He hemmed and hawed and tried to weasel them out of looking at the dog. Cash Grier glared at him. That was all it took.

Most everybody was scared of the town’s police chief, who was nice enough at public gatherings, but hell on lawbreakers of any kind. Cash loved animals as much as the vet and Ty.

The owner was forced to give them access to the puppy, which had been locked in a closet with bloody marks on its back.

Ty had slugged the man before his companions could react. He picked the pup up, gently, and after Cash took photos to document the abuse, walked out the door with Bently Rydel, to end up at his office where the poor little morsel was treated and sent home after an antibiotic shot and stitches. Cash had promptly arrested the owner. The pup’s owner went on trial, was convicted and sentenced to jail. Nobody in Jacobsville liked a dog beater. The jury had only deliberated for ten minutes, despite the harried public defender’s best efforts. All the District Attorney, Blake Kemp, had to do was put up a poster-sized photo of the abused puppy for the jury and the audience to see. It had drawn gasps and the pup’s owner had looked around at glares that felt like burns on his skin.

“What’s the matter with you?” Erin asked, glancing at his taut face.

“Puppy beaters,” he muttered.

Her expression softened. “The man got what he deserved. How is Beauregard, by the way?” she added.

He smiled. “He still whimpers in his sleep. I keep him with me at night. Rhodes isn’t enthusiastic about it, but I think he senses that the puppy needs to be spoiled for a few weeks.

Actually,” he added on a chuckle, “it’s Rhodes’s bed that they sleep in, curled up together. For an old dog, Rhodes is amazingly sweet.”

“You’ve had him a long time,” she remarked.

He nodded. “Thirteen years. I worry about him. Big dogs don’t have the life span that smaller ones do.”

“Rhodes is practically immortal,” she replied with a smile. “He’s pampered.”

“I guess so. Dad gave him to me as a Christmas present the year I graduated high school.”

“I remember your parents. They were so sweet,” she added. “Your mother and mine were best friends.”

“Hell of a shame, what happened,” he said stiffly.

She nodded. “It’s a rare thing, to have a tour bus go off the road and crash down a ravine. But those mountain roads in South America can be treacherous. Your parents were so much in love,” she added quietly. “It’s hard to imagine one going on without the other.”

“That’s what Annie and I thought,” he replied. “But it’s damned tough, losing them both at once.”

“I remember. At least you were both grown at the time,” she added softly.

He drew in a breath. “Didn’t help much,” he muttered.

“For what it’s worth, I know how it is. It was hard for Dad and me to go on, after we lost Mom.”

“Your mother had a hard life,” he said.

She sighed. “Yes. Dad’s hard to live with. He’s not mean or anything, he just makes stupid decisions and runs his mouth when he shouldn’t. Jack Dempsey won’t even speak to him.”

“That must hurt. They’re best friends.”

“They were,” she said sadly. “Dad was repeating some gossip that he’d heard about Jack’s wife running around on him. It got exaggerated, by Dad,” she muttered, “and Jack’s wife divorced him. It wasn’t even true. My father has a gift for saying things without thinking first.”

“A lot of people are like that.”

She grimaced. “I wish they’d had more kids than just me,” she confessed, looking up at him. “It would be easier to manage Dad if I had brothers and sisters to share the misery.”

He chuckled. “You do pretty good.”

She shrugged. “I could do better. I’d have to take away his phone though.”

His eyebrows arched.

“This guy called dad and said he could save ten dollars a month if he switched our long distance to their company. Dad said great, let’s do it. So I tried to phone one of our colleagues at home in Dallas last weekend and got told that we didn’t have long distance anymore. It was a scam. Dad had no idea what he’d done. I tried not to yell,” she added on a laugh. “Honestly, he’s like a little kid sometimes. Ten dollars a month.” She shook her head.

“My mother was like that,” he reminded her. “She got a call telling her the sheriff was coming over to arrest her for a bill she hadn’t paid. The man asked for pre-paid gift cards to save her from jail. She was halfway out the door on her way to town when I stopped her to ask what was wrong. Sadly for him, the scammer was still on her phone talking her through the process.”

She grinned. “I’ll bet his ears are still burning, wherever he is.”

“I imagine so. I was really mad.”

“Do you still have that jar your mother made for you? The one you had to put money in for every bad word you used?”

He laughed. “Yes. It doesn’t get fed, but I’ve still got it.” His eyes were sad with the memory. “She wanted to be a missionary, but Dad came along. She’d lived on a budget for so long that she almost ran away when she saw how much he was worth.” That was true. Her father had inherited a lot of money from his late mother, but he squandered it all on get rich quick schemes. He was still doing that, albeit on a very small shoestring. Erin wore herself out trying to save him from himself.

“A unique woman,” Ty continued. “She really didn’t care about money at all.” He studied her quietly. “Sort of like you.”

She sighed. “I like being able to buy food and gas and pay bills. That’s what money’s good for. There are lots of things it won’t buy.”

He nodded.

“Besides that, I work for this terrific manager who gives me raises,” she added with twinkling gray eyes.

“I don’t have to think too hard to do that,” he said. “I know how hard you work.”

“I’m just grateful to have a job. The economy is pretty bad right now.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Even this company has to be careful. You’re working on that bid now, the one we hope will get us the job just outside San Antonio in Bexar County; a whole retirement complex. It’s worth millions.”

“You’ll get it,” she said with supreme confidence. “You really do know how to undercut the other bidders. And I know how to price out almost everything,” she said, not bragging, just making a statement. She was a good cost estimator.

“We can undercut most of the major bidders,” he corrected. “But I’ve heard that one of them is Jason Whitehall. He and his son Josh have one of the best construction companies around south Texas.”

“His son’s a dish,” she mused.

“And how would you know?” he asked.

“I ran into him at that conference you sent me to, in Dallas, month before last. He looks just like his dad. All three of them were there, Jason and Amanda and Josh.” She sighed. “They’re just beginning to get over losing Jason’s mother, Marguerite. She was a lovely lady. So kind.”

“You know a lot about them,” he said.

“Well, one of our clients was trying to retool his public image and Amanda still owns that PR firm, so she was there getting information from him. She’s very nice. We keep in touch on Facebook.”

“Don’t keep in touch too closely,” he cautioned with snapping black eyes. “They’re competitors.”

“As if I’d ever sell you out,” she said, exasperated, as she stared up at him. “Get real! Annie would have me for breakfast, smothered in jelly!”

He relaxed. “Okay. Just testing the waters.”

She ground her teeth together. “Oh, no.”

He followed her irritated glance and saw a short, rotund man with thinning hair and a big smile headed toward them.

“I told you so,” she moaned. “I’ll go hide in the rest room… Ty!”

His arm was around her waist and he smiled down at her shocked expression. “Don’t give the game away. Smile.”

She did, trying hard to disguise the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat as she felt the strength and heat of his powerful body, smelled the spicy, clean scent of him. She’d danced with him at parties, rarely, and it had been just as problematic, to keep her headlong feelings for him from showing.

He felt a shiver go through her and his brows drew together just for an instant. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him?

Then he felt her heart race where her small, firm breasts were pressed close against him, and odd feelings stirred. Her breath was coming too fast. She was trying to disguise it, but he knew more about women than he ever let on in public.

She stiffened and started to pull back, but his arm tightened.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked in a slow, deep tone.

“Noth…nothing,” she faltered.

“Lies,” he mused. “Here.” He handed her his drink. “Liquid courage. Take a sip and we’ll ward off your would-be suitor.”

She took the glass, sniffed it, and made a face. “It’s whiskey. I hate whiskey!”

“Take a sip. It works better than it smells. Trust me.”

She took a deep breath, held it, and forced about a teaspoon of the vile-smelling liquid into her mouth. She choked it down, catching her breath.

“You could fuel trucks with this,” she muttered as she handed it back.

“This is the very finest aged Scotch whiskey,” he defended. “And now I’ll know not to share my most precious substance with those same people you don’t cast pearls before!”

She glared at him. “I am not a swine!”

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed. He cocked his head and his black eyes twinkled. “But I’ll bet you taste almost as good as a barbequed one,” he added in a slow, soft tone as his eyes fell to her pretty, soft mouth.

She actually gasped and her heart ran wild.

“My, my, is that the whiskey or me?” he asked, his eyes dropping to the fluttering of her heart, very visible under the thin bodice of her pale blue cocktail dress.

“Don’t you stare at me like that,” she said indignantly.

“Like what?” he asked, amused.

“Oh, hi, Erin,” Clarence Hodges said as he joined them. He looked crestfallen when he noticed Ty’s arm around her. “I was hoping you might like to talk to me about having your company do a remodeling job on my new house…?”

She forced a smile. “I’m truly sorry, Clarence, but that isn’t the sort of project we do,” she said in a gentle but professional tone. “We do big projects. Shopping centers. Apartments. Housing complexes. That sort of thing.”

“It’s a big house,” he persisted.

“Erin’s right, we don’t do small projects,” Ty told him, and the irritation he was feeling was visible in the tautness of his unsmiling face. “Even if we did, we’re already overbooked. Sorry,” he added. But he didn’t look sorry. He looked oddly threatening.

Clarence swallowed. Hard. His face flushed. “I see. Well…” He smiled hopefully at Erin. “Maybe you might like to come over and have coffee with me one morning?”

Ty’s chin lifted. His black eyes narrowed. He glared at the smaller man.

Erin just smiled.

“Oh, there’s Billy Olstead,” he said, looking past Erin’s shoulder. “I need to talk to him about my mother’s new car. I’ll see you later,” he added to Erin and smiled again, nervously, as he made a beeline toward the newcomer.

“Thanks,” Erin said with a heavy release of breath. “He’s not a bad man, but he can be annoying.”

“Annie says he’s started calling you two or three times a week.”

“He does,” she agreed sadly. “I can’t make him understand that I just don’t feel that way about him. I’ve never done a single thing that he could construe as encouraging.”

“It wouldn’t help,” he replied. “Men like that don’t take hints. They think they’re irresistible and it only needs persistence to wear you down.”

“He’d need more persistence than he’s got,” she said flatly.

He pursed his lips. “You could go out with me.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

He shrugged. “You could go out with me. Jacobsville is small. It would get all around town in no time that we were dating. Clarence would hear it from everybody.” He chuckled. “Even Clarence wouldn’t be able to convince himself that he’d be any competition for me.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“But, what?” he asked quietly, and he looked down into her eyes until she flushed. Her heart was trying to get out of her chest now.

She couldn’t even find words. It was like having every dream of her life come true unexpectedly, and all at once. She was breathless, giddy. But it was insane to even think of doing it, of going out with him. The gossip would be terrible. It wouldn’t matter that the company where they worked was in San Antonio; too many employees lived in Jacobsville, where Ty and Erin lived. It would be all over town in no time. When he didn’t go out with her a second time, it would be even worse. People would start wondering what was wrong with her.

“I don’t think,” she began.

“Good. Don’t. Thinking is responsible for most of the misery on the planet. We can go dancing. There’s a Latin club up in San Antonio.”

He knew she could do Latin dances. He’d taught her how, for a high school date. How many years ago that seemed now!

“Well…”

Amazing. She was reluctant. He’d never had any woman try to refuse a date with him. It was intriguing, especially considering how fast her heart was going right now. She was attracted to him. Was it new? Or had she always been attracted, but kept it hidden? He wanted to find out.

“Live dangerously. A little gossip never hurt anybody,” he teased.

It did, but he wouldn’t know, not with his spotless reputation. Well, hers was spotless, too. So spotless that she didn’t want to risk staining it, however lightly.

“People will talk. A lot.”

He just smiled. “Your friends won’t care. What your enemies think won’t matter.”

“Yes, but I hate gossip.”

He cocked his head and smiled at her with those black eyes making sensual promises. “There’s a sushi place just down the block from the Latin club,” he said. “They have ebi.”

Ebi was her favorite sushi dish. It was so expensive that she couldn’t work it into her budget. Her father did contribute a little to the family kitty, but never enough. They lived frugally because he was a spendthrift. Ty didn’t know and it would kill her pride to confess it.

She loved sushi, especially ebi. She couldn’t afford it.

“You’re weakening. Think about it. Chilled shrimp with rice. Wasabe and soy sauce and pickled ginger to go on it…”

“Stop! You’re torturing me!”

He chuckled. “I love it, too. Come on. Say yes.”

She drew in a long breath. “Okay,” she blurted out, against her own best interests.

He grinned. “Okay.”

When she got home that night, she could have kicked herself for agreeing.

Her father was watching television. A movie on DVD. They couldn’t afford cable or satellite. The only reason she had a high-end cell phone was that the company provided it for her, along with a company car. These would have been luxuries, even on her good salary.

“I’m home,” she said.

“Hi.” He grinned at her while the commercial was on. “Had fun?”

“It was a business party,” she reminded him.

“Easy enough to have fun and do business. Speaking of business, I saw this commercial on TV about how to invest in the stock market by doing day-trading…”

“No.”

“Now, Erin…”

“No,” she repeated. “We’re still paying off that course you took learning how to sell real estate,” she added pointedly.

He grimaced. “I didn’t know I was a bad salesman until I tried it.”

“Well, trying things is what got us into this financial mess, Dad,” she said, sitting down across from him. “I’m making a good salary. If we live on a budget, we can make it, just. But there’s no extra money. None at all. I can’t work two jobs.”

He studied her with the face of a child. “But it’s only two hundred dollars, this course, I mean.”

“I don’t have two hundred dollars. Not even in savings. That went to the online gambling website you found,” she added, trying not to sound as accusing as she felt.

He grimaced. “I guess I’m not as good a gambler as I thought, either. But, listen, this course,” he began again.

“I can get an apartment of my own and move out,” she said flatly.

He gasped. “Erin, no!”

“I can’t live with the way you spend money, Dad. Either you stop trying to spend it on things we don’t need, or I’m bailing out.” She felt a hundred years old. “I can’t keep bailing you out. We already owe more than I make in a year. I’m just one person.”

“I do help out,” he said stiffly.

“You do odd jobs and you spend what you make as soon as you get it,” she replied.

He flushed. He couldn’t deny that.

“I’ll try to restrain myself. I will.” He smiled. “But the man said that this course is foolproof.”

She ground her teeth together as she got up. “I’m going to bed.”

“If you’d just listen,” he said sadly.

She turned. “I’ve listened since Mom died,” she said. “And every single thing you’ve spent money on has cost us money without returning any. I’m so tired of debt, can’t you understand that? I’m being crushed by the weight of it, worried to death about it, and you just can’t seem to see what it’s doing to me.”

He blinked. He shifted uneasily in his chair. “I’ll do better next time. You’ll see.”

“Next time it had better be your own money that you’re betting,” she replied and toughened her stance. “Or I’m moving out.”

“You’re being unreasonable, Erin,” he retorted. “You don’t love me.”

“I do love you. And you’re the one being unreasonable. Good night.”

She went into her bedroom and closed the door, sick at heart. It was like trying to explain to a child. Her father had always lived in the clouds, but her mother had been able to manage him with supreme ease. Erin couldn’t.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life paying off his bills and then I’ll die,” she thought miserably. “I’ll never get away.”

Which was the one reason she could never let Ty Mosby see how she felt about him. Everybody knew her father kept them poor, but not how catastrophically. Ty would never be sure of her. Was she dating him because she cared for him or because he could pay off their debts.

It was an unrealistic thought, but she was almost panicked at the thought of dating Ty. She’d have to find some way to back out of it, a way that wouldn’t hurt his pride. All her life, her father had been a stone around her neck. Since her mother’s death, it had been much worse.

It would have helped if she had someone to talk to about it, but her only real friend was Annie, and she’d never be able to tell Annie the truth. It would just get back to Ty. Her pride wouldn’t take that.

She wanted that date with all her heart. It was just too risky. She was crazy about him. It might show. There were so many reasons that she didn’t dare let him see what she felt. Her father was the biggest one.

But there was another. Ty wasn’t a marrying man. He kept his liaisons very private, but he’d had relationships in the past. In a small town like this, they wouldn’t be able to hide one.

Erin had a spotless reputation. She wasn’t having it damaged to keep steady company with a man who only wanted one thing from a woman, and it wasn’t love.

So, better not to complicate her life any more than it was already complicated. Which left the problem of her father to solve, if it could be solved. She would never be free of him and his get-rich schemes that never paid off. She’d be in debt until she died.

She put on her gown and crawled gratefully under the covers. She’d think about it tomorrow, she told herself. Tonight, she was going to savor her memory of Ty’s arm around her, his deep voice sensuous as he teased her about going on a date.

It could never happen. But dreaming about it hurt nobody. Especially not Erin.

Excerpted from Wyoming Proud by Diana Palmer. Copyright © 2023 by Diana Palmer. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

***

Author Bio

 The prolific author of more than one hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A New York Times bestselling author and voted one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.

Social Media Links

Author Website

Facebook: Diana Palmer

Purchase Links

BookShop.org

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s