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Flash Forward: Four-Gone Conclusion (Contest)
Saturday, June 24th, 2017

Quick Note: I have a Thunderclap campaign I could use some help with. Don’t know what that is? It’s simple. It’s a chance to blast news about a something you want the world to know about. For me, I want folks to know about my recent release, Big Sky SEAL! It’s easy. Follow the link. In once click, you can set up a social media blast. Just one click. Maybe two—if you don’t mind sending out news on two platforms, like Facebook and Twitter. You don’t even have to think. Just click. And thanks! Follow this link!

* * * * *

I’m bleary-eyed today. Up before dawn—5 AM, to be precise. My dd is heading to Dallas to pick up the oldest from her father after yearly visitation, and I’m babysitting. Can’t wait to see that kid. She’s twelve, loud, and nutty as a fruitcake, but I love her. She’s also the artist of the family. She draws adorable manga-style comics. She’s the quickest to cry, to scream, to lash out…to hug. I feel sorry for the boy who falls for her. She’s so pretty, so I know there will be boys.

I tell her she doesn’t have to grow up. Doesn’t have to even think about leaving home. She can stay forever. She rolls her eyes. Used to be she’d say, “I’ll never leave you, Nina.”

My dd’s house has been a little subdued since she left. One less child. The noise will be back with a vengeance, I have no doubt. But my daughter runs an “Irish” house, so everything’s loud. Which brings me to today’s question…

For a chance to win your choice of one of these
Lone Star Lovers stories, answer me this!

Is your family loud and boisterous? Quick to fight and laugh? Or is your house laid back? Too quiet? I’d love to know!

 

 

Four-Gone Conclusion

Coming July 14th!

Sometimes a cowboy needs a little help—or three brothers—to snare a wife…

Sam Logan’s boys have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear his foster sons won’t settle down without a nudge from him, he issues his challenge. Find a wife…

The oldest, Johnny, already had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker. Sam’s challenge just gave him the gumption to ask her out. However, before he makes his move, the twins kidnap Ellie from under his nose. Now, he has to compete with three brothers for the woman he wants.

Ellie thought her prospects were drying up until Johnny Logan finally untangled his tongue and asked her out. When his brothers kidnap her and take her to the ranch, she’s furious…then intrigued by the thought of four men bent on showing her what being their’s would be like.

Pre-Order Your Copy Here!

Read an excerpt from Four-Gone Conclusion

“It’s time you boys found yerselves a wife.” Sam Logan made his pronouncement then waited, watching the four younger men seated at the table from the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to wait long for his words to sink in. They exploded in the room with the force of a silent grenade.

Johnny’s jaw closed with a snap, and he laid his spoon down on the scarred oak table. His black winged brows drew together, nearly meeting over his dark eyes as he raised his head.

Sam suppressed a smile. That look could make the toughest hombre gulp, but Sam wasn’t the least bit concerned. Johnny tended to look mean when things changed. His oldest boy hated any kind of change.

If any other man had said what he had, Johnny would have cussed under his breath and aimed a piercing, silencing glare. However, he respected Sam, trusted him as much as he could anyone. That trust and respect were the only things that kept his butt on the bench beside his brother Killian.

For his part, Killian’s eyes narrowed. The corners of his lips twitched. Likely he was amused by Johnny’s reaction and didn’t want to let him off the hook too quickly, but was already lining up all the reasons why Sam’s idea was ludicrous. He was quick that way.

Sam calmly ladled the hearty stew he’d made into his mouth and let his gaze roam to the twins. Jason was coughing into his napkin while Mace gave him “helpful” taps between his shoulder blades.

Mace caught his stare and grinned. “A wife, did you say?”

Sam grunted, ignoring the one word that had caught his son’s attention. “This is the third time this week we’ve had stew,” he murmured. Not to change the subject, but to point out a glaring fact.

“I like stew just fine,” Johnny muttered.

“This house misses a woman’s touch.” There, he’d said it. Sat the big gorilla in the room right at the dinner table. Impossible to ignore.

“Gracie can’t be replaced,” Killian said softly.

The permanent ache next to his heart echoed that truth. Sam nodded. “She’s gone. Three years. I miss her every day. Know you do too. But life goes on. You’re men now. You have an obligation. Ranchin’s a family business. Y’all need families.”

Johnny cleared his throat. “No disrespect intended, Sam, but you didn’t get sons the old-fashioned way.”

“Not because Gracie and I didn’t try. And in the end, we had no regrets. We both loved you all like you was our own.”

“So, you’d rather saddle us with—”

Sam aimed a quelling stare. “Think I felt like Gracie was a noose around my neck?”

“No sir, but…” Johnny’s hands fisted on the tabletop. “Hell, how’re we to find someone like her?”

Sam understood what he meant. Gracie’s passing had left a hole in all their hearts. The boys had loved her. Took to her the very first day he’d brought each of them home. Gracie had been born to be a mother, and she’d showered them all with the things they’d needed most—acceptance and unconditional love.

“Boys, Gracie wasn’t born a rancher’s wife. Truth is, she didn’t know a bull from a cow and damn near poisoned me with the first meals she cooked. But she learned. Find a woman willin’ to learn, one you kin love and who’ll love you back.”

“You said, ‘a wife’.” Mace wasn’t gonna let that slip of the tongue go.

Sam shook his head and gave the twins a faint glimmer of a smile. Those two could always see the humor in any predicament. “Thought I’d give you two options. I know one can’t piss without the other goin’ too. And there are damn few single women to go around these parts. ’Nough said?” When all of them nodded, he cleared his throat. “I’ll be out of town for the next four days. Auction in Abilene. The house is yours.”

 

 

Johnny glanced around the dinner table at his brothers, whose attention had been snared from the first moment Sam had made his firmly spoken pronouncement. They were accustomed to eating quietly, filling their hollow bellies at the end of a long, hard day’s work. Sam’s words echoed in the silence that followed and hung in the air like a sour-smelling cloud. At least to Johnny’s imagination. The thought of taking a wife, keeping a woman around on a permanent basis, made him itch.

The suggestion that they find “a wife” had come out of the blue. But the look on Sam’s face said he’d thought long and hard about it and would brook no arguments. His sly mention that the twins might share one should have been shocking but wasn’t given their recent escapades, as well as the unconventional relationships springing up like chokeweeds all around Two Mule, Texas.

The glint of humor in Killian’s eyes forewarned he was about to say something sly. Johnny grunted and shook his head. Now was not the time to make a joke.

Killian snorted. His lips twisted, but he gave a shrug to indicate he’d behave.

Johnny didn’t like the turn of the conversation, but it was Sam Logan giving the advice. When Sam spoke, which was seldom, they all listened.

After all, they owed Sam everything.

Jason leaned away from Mace and grabbed at the hand that been pounding his back. “Can we draw straws to see who gets saddled with one?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Strange things been happenin’ around this town. Fact is, I don’t care whether you all find one woman to take you on or four. But it’s time for you boys to settle down.”

Johnny knew what this was about. From the flinty glint in Killian’s eyes, he did too. Apparently so did the twins, who shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, cheeks flushing a dull red.

“I’m not sayin’ it was a sin, what you two boys did,” Sam said. “The girl was willin’ and yer young. But word gets around. Decent folks’ll keep their women away from ya. Best to make your move fast before everyone hears the gossip and doors close in your face. This is a hard life. A man needs his comforts. Do I need to say more?”

All four younger men shook their heads.

“No sir,” Johnny muttered. Sam’s pronouncements weren’t suggestions. He folded his napkin and laid it beside his plate. He’d been hungry before his foster father had spoken, but now his food sat like a cold lump in his belly.

A woman. He had to find a woman. He’d offer no arguments. Just like any other chore, he’d get to it with quiet efficiency.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, glaring at the twins as he pushed away from the table. “I have business in town.”

Sam eyed him, then solemnly nodded. “You do indeed. Good luck, son.”

It didn’t take long for the other three to find him. The bathroom door opened as he slicked back his wet hair. Mace sidled inside while Killian leaned against the doorframe and Jason stood behind him with his hands in his pockets.

Mace grimaced as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Think he was serious?”

“When is he not?” Johnny said, keeping his tone even.

“You gonna do it? Just like that? Find yourself a wife?”

Johnny squared his shoulders. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“Because Sam said so?”

Johnny turned and shot out a hand to grip the collar of Mace’s shirt.

Mace met his glare with one of his own. “Didn’t mean it that way, bro. But hell, a wife? Shouldn’t we take our time? Do this thing right? It’s a big damn step.”

Johnny hardened his glare. “You two may have been the ones to draw attention to the problem, but we’ve all done plenty to answer for. If we’ve embarrassed Sam, it’s time we manned up.”

Mace’s lips firmed then he released a deep sigh.

Johnny let him go but stood with his hands fisted on his hips.

“Guess you’re right,” Mace muttered. “So, what’s the plan?”

Why was it they always looked to him for a plan? In this instance, he was the least qualified one to decide. But as always, Johnny gritted his teeth and kept it simple. “We find a woman, someone we all don’t object to, ’cause she’s gonna be underfoot. Then one of us has to marry her.”

“Think it’ll be that easy?”

“’Course not. But since when have we shied away from a challenge?”

“We’ll go in two separate trucks,” Killian said, straightening away from the door. “Cover twice as much ground.”

Johnny turned to the mirror and gave his appearance once last look. Wasn’t much he could do, but at least his hair was combed and his breath was fresh. He glanced over his shoulder as the twins headed down the hallway, laughing and shoving each other toward the stairs. “Don’t know why I’m suddenly scared to death,” he muttered.

Killian laughed. “Yeah, those two with a mission. Boggles the mind.”

The trip into town was made in silence. The way he liked most things. From the corner of his eye he could see Killian glancing his way, like he wanted to say something, but Johnny didn’t give him any encouragement. He was mad as hell it had come to this.

Up to now, they’d had it good. Sure, the work was backbreaking but the ranch was all he had, all any of them had. Sam was planning to leave it to them, but only if they managed to keep out of trouble, learn to ranch, and be good citizens. Learning to ranch had been the easy part. They’d all taken to it like ducks to water, thriving on the physical challenge, learning to rope and ride. Learning how to break a horse to saddle, how to birth a calf.

That had been the simple part. The being good citizens part had been tougher. None of them had had the greatest examples of manhood in their lives to model themselves after. Not until Sam. And Sam had his issues. He was damn near a hermit. Grumpy as hell around other people. Even more so after Gracie had passed away.

Johnny had grown more like Sam than the others, but hadn’t realized it was a problem until it came to dealing with the opposite sex. While the twins and Killian never had any trouble finding willing partners, Johnny had bedded few. His straight stare seemed to scare women away.

And if they weren’t put off with the way he looked at them, he didn’t have a silver tongue. In fact, he couldn’t seem to put two coherent words together, much less figure out a way to put a woman at ease in his company.

Still, he wasn’t all that worried about Sam’s pronouncement. The others would have a better chance of finding a woman willing to take them on. He’d do his duty, give it a try, set an example for the others, but he knew his chances of finding a suitable woman who could overlook his flaws was slim to none. No, he didn’t have an ounce of charm, had two left feet and a face as rugged as a mountain. Given those facts and his history, what woman would look his way and want to make a family with him?

Not that the thought of having children didn’t cause his chest to fill with a lonely ache.

“I could help you, you know,” Killian said, his tone casual.

Too casual. Johnny grunted. “With what?”

“Gettin’ you a wife.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Worry about findin’ your own.”

“It’s not how it works, bro. We’re brothers.”

“We’re not blood.”

“Blood’s not what counts.”

Which was a sorry damn truth they all knew too well. Blood had failed them all.

Johnny cussed under his breath. “How would you help? You gonna chat her up for me? You gonna tell her what a catch I am?”

“Well, you are. You stand to inherit a fourth of the Double Tree. And I’ve seen the way women look at you.”

Johnny snorted.

“You’re not a bad lookin’ guy.

Johnny aimed a blistering glare his way. “You gonna ask me out?”

Killian grinned. “Just statin’ the facts. You’re not hard on the eyes. And you’re tall. Girls like that. And they like your hair. They like you fine until you give ’em that thousand-yard stare like you’re sightin’ down a rifle barrel.”

Johnny gave him his meanest glare. “This isn’t gonna work.”

Killian gave a waggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll help. What’re brothers for?”

“You’re just hoping I’ll snag a wife and that’ll be the end of it. You’ll be off the hook.”

“Maybe.”

“You think this is funny.”

“Watchin’ you tryin’ to sweet talk a woman—yeah, it’ll be the most fun I’ve had in while. So where do you wanna start?”

Johnny didn’t answer but he passed up the most obvious place. The saloon’s parking lot was already full. Instead, he turned onto Main Street and slowed as he searched for a parking place.

Killian straightened in his seat. “You’re not thinkin’ of Ellie, are you?”

The way Killian said it intimated he thought Johnny had lost his mind. Maybe he had. But she was the first woman he’d thought of when Sam had mentioned the stew. “She can cook.”

Killian gave an exaggerated shudder. “But she’s mean.”

“Should be perfect for me then, don’t you think?”

Killian gave a bark of laughter then crammed his cowboy hat on his head.

Johnny raked his hair with his fingers and wished he’d thought to bring a rubber band to tie it back. However, Killian had said girls liked his long, straight hair. He didn’t know why he’d kept it. It was the one most glaring trait that set him apart from his brothers. The last vestige of the heritage he’d thrown off when he’d run away from life on the reservation.

He trailed behind Killian, who stepped out with a bounce in his step, likely grinning his ass off that Ellie Harker was the first woman who’d come to his mind. What he didn’t know was that Johnny had been working up the courage to ask her out, sitting in the diner week after week, but never quite finding the right way to do it.

Killian pushed through the door of the café. Johnny caught it before it slammed in his face, but didn’t say a word. Already, he could feel his body tensing at the thought of talking to the woman.

She’d taken over the running of Katie’s Diner when Katie’s belly got too big and her husband, Cutter Standifer, had insisted she hire a cook until after the birth of their first child.

Inside, the smell of freshly baked apple pie assailed him, and his belly rumbled loudly. There could be worse things than being hitched to a mean woman, especially when she could cook almost as well as Gracie.

The place was busy. Wade Luckadoo’s girl, a college kid home for the summer with blue streaks in her white-blond hair, glided out of the kitchen with a tray balanced on one hand. “Someone’ll be right with you. Take a seat if you can find one.”

Killian headed to the counter and slid onto a stool then patted the empty one beside him. Johnny felt his face harden to stone, his usual mask in public, as he sat. From this vantage they had a view straight into the kitchen where Ellie was working.

One glance and his body stilled, breath leaving in a quiet sigh. She was a pretty woman, although her looks weren’t flashy like most men might prefer. Pale blonde hair, pretty milk-colored skin, and he didn’t need to see what stretched below. Her well-padded curves were burned into his memory.

Right now, her cheeks were rosy, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her brow. Johnny stared, wondering, not for the first time, whether she’d taste like everything she cooked.

Ellie pushed back a lock of her pale hair that fell over her hazel eyes with the back of her hand and then glanced up. Her startled gaze met his for a second then quickly darted to his brother before falling away.

He kept right on staring, wondering how long it would be before she’d come out to check on the customers first-hand.

Killian leaned toward him to whisper. “See? She was lookin’.”

“She looked at you too. Would have looked at Ole Win’s ugly face if he’d taken a seat right in front of her.”

“But she wouldn’t have blushed.”

“She’s cookin’ over a stove. Of course her cheeks are pink.”

Killian grunted. “You are the stubbornest man I’ve ever known. She’s interested.”

Johnny didn’t like the little thrill of hope that warmed him. No use getting excited when Killian was only trying to warm him up to the challenge. “She looked at you too,” he repeated under his breath.

Killian arched a brow. “We could follow in the twins’ footsteps…”

“I’m not sharin’ a wife with you.”

“Only one of us can marry her, but seein’ as you’re a little stunted in the courtin’ arena, you might need someone watchin’ out for your interests. I can close this deal for you, bro.”

Johnny thought about all the times he’d rehearsed the perfect opening line but sat tongue-tied when Ellie’s attention landed right on him. He might need some help all right. “Say I was to agree to let you help. No one else would have to know?”

Killian’s lips curved in a sly arc. “No one other than Ellie.”

Johnny ground his teeth. “I might need a little help. The woman ties my tongue into a knot.”

“You just do what you always do. Play the silent Injun. Be mysterious. Leave the rest to me.”

Johnny didn’t like it one bit, but he didn’t see another way around it. And the last thing he’d admit to Killian was that Sam’s pronouncement had given him the nudge he’d needed. He’d had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for weeks but hadn’t gotten up the gumption to do anything about it.

He nodded, then instantly regretted agreeing when Killian’s mouth stretched into a wider grin.

“Not a word to the twins,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“It’ll be our little secret.”

The kitchen door swung open and Ellie breezed out, a towel over her shoulder and a pitcher of water in her hand. She grabbed two tumblers from under the counter and set one in front of each man. “What can I do for you boys?”

Johnny bristled. No one called him a boy except Sam these days. And the way she said it with that wicked glint in her eyes told him she knew he didn’t like it.

Killian leaned over the counter and tilted back his head. “Sweetheart, how come no one’s married you out from under this place?”

Johnny stepped on Killian’s boot and ground his heel into his brother’s toe.

Killian grimaced but didn’t turn away from Ellie’s narrowing glance.

“Guess I’ve just been lucky,” she said, her tone brisk. “What’ll it be? We’ve got meatloaf and mac tonight.”

“Just pie. Johnny here’s been goin’ on and on about how good your pie is.”

“Has he now?” Her razor glance flicked to Johnny, and he felt its scrape against his cheek. She leaned closer, her face inches from his. “What do you say, cowboy? Want me to top it with cream?”

He gulped at her throaty purr. Not a sound he’d ever heard her make. His dick stirred and his cheeks heated. “Vanilla,” he ground out.

She tsked. “A shame. Not what I had in mind at all.”

His mind went blank for a second. “Um, you meant whipped?”

She gave a wicked chuckle, and his skin burned like fire.

“Now, that’s more like it,” she said, her voice deepening into husky purr again.

Beside him, Killian choked on laughter.

Ellie straightened and raised both brows. “Pie comin’ up. À la mode.” She turned on her heel, but not before he saw a hint of a smile on her face.

“Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” Johnny growled. “She thinks I’m an idiot.”

“She was flirtin’ with you.”

“She knows I can’t get a word out that makes a lick o’ sense around her.”

Killian turned his gaze from the sashay of her pretty bottom. “She knows you’re interested.”

“How long we gotta sit here?”

“’Til this place closes down. Don’t eat that pie too quick.”

“It’ll be soggy.”

“Then get another slice.”

Johnny ducked his head and turned to watch Ellie as she refilled glasses, pausing to share a word or a quick quip. She had a way with her customers. A sassy flare. With her other customers anyway. Most times, she just ignored him. Or teased him, like tonight, until he couldn’t think he was so damn hard.

Her head tilted back in laughter at something a couple said to her, then turned to catch him watching her.

For once, he didn’t let his glance skitter away. He held her gaze, let her note where he looked, and then burned a slow trail down her body.

This time, he saw her throat work around a gulp.

Killian nudged him with an elbow. “Not bad, bro. Not bad at all.”

Mel Teshco: Why Readers Love Sheikh Romance
Friday, June 23rd, 2017

Romances might be the best-selling fiction in the world, but what makes a sheikh romance such a popular trope? Cathleen Ross, Mel Teshco and Christina Phillips wrote the Amazon bestselling box set, Taken by the Sheikh and have gotten together once again to write another sheikh romance box set, Taken by the Desert Sheikh.

Mel: Readers love sheikhs, and we love writing them. It’s a win-win.

Cathleen: I love the darkness I can reach into. My sheikhs look sexy on the outside but there is also a lethal side. These made up countries are wild, where it’s survival of the fittest. It’s that element I like to tap in to. I also enjoy writing about a man who rules and has to make hard decisions, like marrying the right woman for the good of his country, then watch them falling in love.

Christina: I love writing the fantasy of the arrogant alpha prince falling hard for his sassy virginal heroine 🙂

So why do readers love sheikhs? Let’s explore the reasons!

Readers can’t get enough of alpha males, and a sheikh has more latitude than most heroes to get away with his inner alpha.

I think for readers, they have favorite Sheikh authors and they like to see the different takes of these writers. The stories are purely escapist, which everyone needs to get away from the monotony of real life.

There is something enthralling about being transported to a foreign country with its diverse culture and people. Not to mention the stark landscape of rolling sand dunes and relentless heat, versus the sheer opulence of a sheikh palace with its fountains and pools and priceless furnishings. In these environments, there is also the element of surprise. Anything can and does happen. One moment there is peace and the next danger. In real life this would be terrible, but from the safe confines of a novel, it’s exciting to read.

Imagine being in the heroine’s shoes, taking in the unfamiliar sights, hearing all those new sounds, and coping with the fierceness of a world that is so unlike our own. It’s escapism at its finest. Reading it from the comfort of our armchairs can only be a bonus.

Hot sex. We’re reading about an alpha male here, so the imagined sex is always good. It’s in the love scenes we see the vulnerability of both hero and heroine. The story can’t be all savagery and excitement. There has to be still moments.

And did we mention the hot sex?

Thanks so much Delilah for having us on your blog, it’s been a lot of fun 🙂

You can find us here:

Mel Teshco:
Website
Facebook
Newsletter

Cathleen Ross:
Website
Facebook

 

Christina Phillips
Website
Facebook
Newsletter

We’ve also written a naughty stepbrother romance in our Taken series, Taken by the Billionaire.

Three Sheikh brothers, three virgin brides…

The Grand Vizier has a plan to save Qutum…

To prevent a war…three royal brothers must wed

Get your copy here!

First Chapter of Stolen by the Sheikh, by Cathleen Ross…

Sheikh Jamal El-Amin of Qutum welcomed his Grand Vizier, Ahmet Khan. After the man prostrated himself, his forehead touching the cool patterned tiles as was fitting, Jamal rose from his throne, climbed down from the steps, bent and helped the man to rise.

Several gasps echoed around the palace’s waiting chamber.

Jamal narrowed his eyes and glared. “Do not let it be said I treat my people with disdain.” His servants and awaiting dignitaries dropped their gazes. No one dared offend the new ruling prince of Qutum.

“You are too old to continue using such formality, Grand Vizier. A simple bow will suffice.” He took the man under the arm, noting how frail he had become. With the recent death of his father, Sheikh Rafir El-Amin, the services of the Grand Vizier were essential to him and his two brothers if the country was to survive. The Grand Vizier had a network that spread across the country, so complex it resembled a spider’s web. Not even he, Jamal, would attempt to unravel it.

“It was fitting for my ancestors to greet yours in such a manner,” the Grand Vizier replied with dignity. “While I have limbs in my body that continue to bend, I will greet you so, Your Highness.”

Jamal ushered the man to a seat in an adjacent chamber where he could have privacy. “Come, we have much to discuss. What news of the border?”

His Grand Vizier sat and both men were silent as a servant served them spiced tea. With his province bordering Zimbia, which was in upheaval, Jamal could not afford to take the chance of being overheard. Not even by a servant who had worked for his family for many years.

The Grand Vizier leaned forward, concern drawing his ragged eyebrows together, his black eyes glinting. “The insurgents are threatening your province of Nazaar on the border. If we supply arms and money, they will not invade.”

“We will not betray the Sheikh of Zimbia and the rebels would be foolish to bring their fight into the hills of Nazaar.” Still the threat was not lost on him. “And the mood of my people?”

His Grand Vizier averted his gaze for a moment, but gradually he returned to stare at Jamal. “Please excuse my words, Your Highness, for it pains me to utter them.”

“What is it?”

“The border hilltribes are unhappy. They complain of the modern ways enforced by you and your brothers. The tribesmen are resisting your order that their women attend school until sixteen. They want their women married by fourteen.”

“No! Remember what happened to my mother.”

“They think you are too influenced by western ways, especially as…”

Jamal’s hand clenched around the ornate gold-patterned glass because he knew what was to come. “I am not married.” Read the rest of this entry »

Heather Long: What a Cowgirl Wants (Giveaway)
Thursday, June 22nd, 2017

You always see these posts about cowboys and what they want. Lemme tell you, I’ve been in Texas for years and cowgirls have their needs, too. Cowgirls aren’t just those girls and women who ride horses day in and day out. They live in big cities. They live in suburbia. They live in small towns. They live around big animals—cows and horses. They have cats or dogs, or both. They’re single. They’re married. They have families. They drive a mini or a big truck, they can change their tires or use an Uber. They’re independent, their strong, and they know who they are and what they want.

Cowgirls have always been, and always will be—pioneers. They didn’t need anyone to tell them they were the equal of a man, because they did their share of the work. They can load the shotgun, take out the feed, and bring home the bacon. They do it all with the same deliberate drive they handle everything else: needs must.

That’s right, if it needs doing, she gets it done whether it’s hiring the right person or learning how to do it herself.

So what do these remarkable women want?

  1. She wants the job done, she appreciates hard work and respects those around her who are just as willing as she is to roll up their sleeves and get to it.
  2. She uses big words, little words, real words, and slang. She doesn’t need you to play dictionary or tell her that what she just said didn’t include a real word—if you got the gist, then you understood her.
  3. She wants to eat in peace. She likes her food spicy, with lots of flavor. Burning the roof off her mouth may not be the goal so don’t scoff if she goes for the mild or the medium salsa.
  4. She wants respect. She’s usually skilled at her job, and doesn’t need you to tell her how to do it unless you’re actually training her for a brand new position. In which case, talk to her like she’s an adult and not your sweetie.
  5. She knows her own value, and if she says bless your heart, she knows yours too.
  6. She likes fried foods, she likes salads, she likes fancy coffees, and a good old fashioned glass of lemonade. Don’t mess with her BBQ though, because like jerky—BBQ is its own food group.
  7. She wants a guy who knows all of this, and encourages her to be her while welcoming her as a partner and acts as a partner in return.
  8. She wants you to know, she has her own opinions. When she wants yours, she’ll ask for it.

Julia Heller, my heroine in Semper Fi Cowboy, is a cowgirl through and through. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get the job done. When Tanner Wilks returns to Durango Point, he’s going to have his hands full and he’s just the guy to appreciate what Jules has to offer…if he can prove that to her.

Grab your copy on June 26th! Don’t miss the Goodreads giveaway going on right now!

Goodreads giveaway link: https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/241344-semper-fi-cowboy

Lone Star Leathernecks
 Semper Fi Cowboy

A Leatherneck by any other name can still kick ass, which is just what retired United States Marine Corps Captain Tanner Wilks plans to do when he returns to his Texas family ranch to care for his ailing father. And nothing will stop him from achieving his mission—not even a lithe, brown-eyed town veterinarian who seems hell-bent on driving him wild.

Captain Tanner Wilks, honorably discharged from the U.S. Marine Corps, returns home to find his father struggling after his latest heart attack. Worse yet, Julia Heller—the sexy new girl in town that he once spent a hot night with—is the resident veterinarian who’s made a home for herself at Round Top ranch, and doesn’t seem to be in a rush to repeat their time together.

It falls on Tanner’s shoulders to take on the ranch and keep an eye on his father before he falls victim to another heart attack. But Julia doesn’t appreciate Tanner coming in or pursuing her. Even if he’s hot as hell and can make her quiver with just a look. Ousting her may give Tanner the leverage he needs to corral his father, but first he has to wrestle with his own heart.

https://books2read.com/Semper-Fi-Cowboy

About Heather Long

USA Today bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime.

From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family.

She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

Heather is best known for her 18-book paranormal romance series Wolves of Willow Bend, which begins:
Prequel: Wolf at Law
1: Wolf Bite
2: Caged Wolf
3: Wolf Claim
3.5: Wolf Next Door
4: Rogue Wolf
5: Bayou Wolf
6: Untamed Wolf

Heather’s other fantasy romance series include the paranormal westerns Fevered Hearts starting with Marshal of Hel Dorado, Black Hill Wolves, which starts with What a Wolf Wants, Witches of Mane Street, Mongrels, and the upcoming Bravo Team WOLF series.

Her contemporary romance series include: Always a Marine, Going Royal, Elite Warriors, The Love Thieves, beginning with Catch Me and Lone Star Leathernecks, beginning with Semper Fi Cowboy.

Heather is well-represented in fantasy with her her superhero series Boomers, a sci-fi western called Space Cowboy Survival Guide, an urban fantasy series called the Chance Monroe Adventures, and a stand-alone ghost novel titled Haunt Me.

Contact Details:

Website: http://www.heatherlong.net
Email: heather@heatherlong.net
Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/heather-long
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Heather-Long/e/B002BMBCUC/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/HVLong
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/iKxQ5

Excerpt of Semper Fi Cowboy by Heather Long…

Whoever the group was they had talent, and as Tanner studied the newcomers, he focused on a woman who slid over to the bar and drained a glass of water while the musicians found their rhythm. A minute later, she glided back onto the dance floor.

For the next three songs, she traded partners. The woman could move. Tall, long-legged, and beautifully curved, she also had a gorgeous face, from her generous mouth—which pulled into an easy smile—to her sweet, dark eyes. Dark hair clung to her cheeks, and her sleeveless white top gave Tanner a good look at her toned arms.

He didn’t know her. She didn’t even ring a familiar bell, but she sure as hell looked fun. When she waved off a fourth man swooping in for a dance and headed to the bar, Tanner enjoyed the light, strutting cadence to her walk. Someone had taken her spot, so she sidled up to the bar next to him.

Fanning her face with one hand, she gave him a cool, quick grin, then waved at Sully. The bartender slid a glass of water over to her. “You ready for a glass of wine yet, darlin’?”

“In a bit.” She took a long drink of the water. The slender column of her throat convulsed with each swallow, and a fresh wave of lust crashed through Tanner. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to trade places with the glass.

“Put her wine on my tab, Sully,” Tanner called. The number of dance partners and lack of a ring gave him hope she was free. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“No, thank you,” the country goddess declined in a smooth, polite tone. “I’ll take care of my own drinks.”

Sully hid a smirk, but he had other customers.

“No need to be testy, ma’am.” He lifted his beer. “Just offering to buy you a drink.”

“Not being testy at all.” She turned sideways and gave him a once-over. “And you didn’t offer—you just decided to do it, sir.” The cool dismissal didn’t possess an ounce of malice or disrespect. “I simply like to pay my own way, and I never accept offers from strangers.”

“Hard to make an acquaintance if you don’t.” Though he couldn’t fault her. Even the women in his unit or those he’d met on assignment at various bases around the world maintained a sense of control over their environment, both in what they would tolerate from others and what they would accept. “My apologies for overstepping. I’m Tanner, by the way.”

Offering his hand, he waited as she took a beat before wiping her palm against her jeans and then accepting the handshake. “My friends call me Jules.”

“Jules.” Was it short for Julianna? Or Julie? Something else entirely? He liked the sound of it. Maybe it was the beer mellowing him out. Maybe it was being home. Or maybe it was simply watching her, but he wanted to spend some time with Miss Jules.

“Is it all right if I call you Jules?”

“I said my friends call me Jules, you can call me ma’am.” She chuckled, then drained her glass of water and started watching the band. They’d switched to a slow song. Shaking her head, she lifted the hair from the back of her neck. From her flushed cheeks to the gleam in her dark eyes, she was stunning.

“I’d be happy to call you ma’am.” The sentence worked, and Jules returned her attention to him and her eyebrows raised.

“Tell me, ma’am, may I have the next dance?”

Elle James: Ugly Stick Saloon Rides Again!
Wednesday, June 21st, 2017

With the demise of Samhain Publishing, I got all my rights back to my stories based around the Ugly Stick Saloon! Yay! That means, new covers and rereleasing them. I love the Ugly Stick Saloon because it gives my readers a chance to revisit some of their favorite characters, like Audrey and Jackson, Libby and more.  If you’ve never read the Ugly Stick Saloon series, start with Boots & Chaps. I’m releasing all 15 books one month at a time and hope to write a new story in the series next year.  This month’s release is Boots & Bareback, a ménage I think you’re going to love. Stop in and visit with the folks at the Ugly Stick and get to know them!

Boots & Bareback

Amazon | Nook | Kobo | IBooks | GooglePlay

She wants her horse back and will do practically anything to get it, even stripping at a bachelor party…sometimes a girl has to do what she has to do…for the right price….

Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon. Pull up a saddle. Isabella’s gonna take you for a ride, you won’t wanna miss.

To Isabella Severs, men are trouble. Not only was she dumped by her fiancé, the bastard kept the horse she’d raced from a colt. She wants him back. The horse, not the man. Penniless, she lucks into a job working at the Ugly Stick Saloon for tips and a place to stay, determined to put every dollar she makes into buying back her horse. Only her prospects aren’t good, until Old Man O’Brien makes her an offer that could solve all of her problems.

Old Man O’Brien wants grandchildren. To get his grandkids, his sons must marry and have children. Jesse is engaged, but the other three aren’t making any moves toward matrimony. The old man gives them a little push by contracting Isabella to strip at Jesse’s bachelor party. Little did he expect all three of his unhitched sons to fall for the one girl. Sean, Gabe and Tanner weren’t interested in any one girl, until they witnessed Isabella riding the mechanical horse. Temperatures rise with desire and each of the men want to make her his.

Lazy Morning Puzzle
Tuesday, June 20th, 2017

Yes, I’m being lazy today—with this one thing. I don’t have time to blog. I have to edit, edit, edit, or I’ll be late! So, for the third day in the row, I set my alarm at 6:30 to get an early start—and I’m off! Well, as soon as I share this fun little puzzle. The picture you’ll create is for a release coming June 2nd! If you’d like to pre-order, here’s the link:

Link to Pre-Order Mystery Book

Now get to work, me!

Daryl Devoré: She Shimmies On In
Monday, June 19th, 2017

I have two passions besides writing—yoga and Raks Sharqi (belly dancing). I’ve talked about yoga on numerous blogs, so today I am going to let my other passion, shimmy.

First off, the Hollywood legend is that belly dancers were harem slaves, and they danced to seduce the Sultan. While part of that may be true—wives in the harem may have danced to seduce the Sultan (who didn’t need much seducing)—that is not the origin of Raks Sharqi. Sometimes, it is called Egyptian Belly Dancing, but that is also based on the Hollywood legend.

I’ll keep this brief—belly dancing is thousands of years old, and it originated all over the Middle East. At parties—yes, the women were segregated from the men, but they were not demeaned. Instead, they talked, ate, sang and danced together, expressing their joy of life and sisterhood. Some women moved from dancing at parties into the professional world, and this is the origins of Raks Sharqi.

Oh, and can I add right now? Belly dancers are not strippers. Clothes are not removed during the performance. Sometimes, a veil is used as a prop, and it may be discarded, but the “costume” remains on. Well, except for the time the hooks on the back of my dance bra popped during a group routine. If you really want the details, ask me.

Every year in May, belly dancers from all over the world participate in Shimmy Mob, dancing in support of women’s shelters or crisis centers. I believe over 170 cities were registered for this year and some cities have more than one team.

What happens is really cool, and you can join in too. Dancers submit videos of dance routines, and one routine is selected. Everyone learns that routine, and then on the appointed day, they flashmob the routine. Dancers from cities all over the world participate, and the routine is danced on city streets, in farmers’ markets, in malls, and even on beaches.

How can you help? Well, first you have to discover if there is a Shimmy Mob chapter in your area, and then sign up. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never danced in your life. The routine is kept simple for beginners or can be mildly adapted if the group is more experienced.

While you are probably going to be nervous going to your first rehearsal, belly dancers are wonderful, accepting women who will greet you with a smile and help you learn the routine. And after your first performance the joy that fills you will be amazing. You will have learned and performed, been accepted into the sisterhood of belly dancers and have supported an incredibly important cause.

Here’s ShimmyMob’s link if you want to check it out. http://www.shimmymob.com/

*~*~*

 Sadly, there’s no belly dancing in my latest hot romance, Darien’s Desire. 🙂

It’s complicated is not only her relationship status, but the definition of Erika Bailey’s life. She loves managing her drag queen club in Bangkok, Thailand, but her rock star boyfriend resides in North Carolina. And to top it off, her father threatens she must stay away from Darien or lose the Pink Flamingo. Does she protect her club or her love?

Darien Scott, Grammy award-winning international superstar, wants nothing more than to wake up in the arms of Erika, the woman he loves, but contractual obligations force him to exotic video shoots and an isolated movie set with one of Hollywood’s sexiest stars.

With the feeding frenzy of social media trending every aspect of Darien’s life—real or not—it’s hard for Erika to know the truth. Will she be able to see through the lies and trust Darien? Or will evidence from damaging Internet rumors condemn their relationship?

Pre-order: http://www.extasybooks.com/dariens-desire/

Follow me: @daryldevore

Kalissa Wayne: Happy Fathers Day
Sunday, June 18th, 2017

Today is Father’s Day. Happy Father’s Day to all those out there who do the job of a dad, whether you be male or female. My wish for you on this day is that you have the wisdom to teach your kids all they need to know, the patience to deal with them whether they are 2 or 20 and never ending love for them.

As I think about my own dad today, I am saddened by the realization that he is getting older. Mid-seventies this year. I’m thankful that I have both my parents still with me, but for how long?

Just this past week, I made a surprise trip to see them since it’s been almost two years. I was shocked at the changes only two years can make. The grey hair, the wrinkled skin, the slowing down.

I remember my dad from years past. He was young and energetic and invincible to my child’s eyes. I remember thinking he was perfect and could do no wrong. He was the bread-winner of the family, working long hours to supply for us. Although, as a child, I just didn’t understand why he was gone all day. He worked a factory job, and I didn’t understand why grown-ups didn’t get summer vacation like we kids did. Didn’t the factories close down for the summer like school? (I have to giggle at this as an adult. It would be awesome if we all got the summer off!)

He taught me so much without saying a word. He taught me about hard work, doing a job right the first time, never giving up, never losing hope. All without saying a word.

He still does. My mom has Alzheimers, not that they tell their children anything, but she has become so forgetful we know it’s that dreaded affliction. Yet my dad, who has been married to her for over 57 years (or so) still takes care of her at home, still loves her as much, if not more, than the day they married.

It doesn’t take brains, or brawn, or riches to be a father. It takes love, honesty and strength of character. My dad has that in spades.

I love you Dad. Happy Fathers Day.

An excerpt from Kalissa Wayne’s “Traffic Stop” in Blue Collar…

Sarah flew down the empty road, heedless of the speed limit. Darkness encroached on the country road, but the headlights on her Jeep were on bright, dispelling the shadows, at least to the edges of the road. The full moon cast a soft glow over the vast pastures and fields as she flew by. Stars twinkled and mocked her bad mood.

Freakin’ City Council meetings, she thought as she shifted gears. She hated attending, because they were nothing but small-town ego maniacs griping about petty differences and what should be done to draw more money to the county. Nothing ever got done, because no one would agree with anyone else. Why she ever agreed to take the position of arbiter she’d never know. She sighed, letting the wind whip over her from the open top. She just wanted to get home, take a nice long soak in the hot tub and go to bed.

She knew she’d jinxed herself when, in her rear-view mirror, red lights flashed, and she heard a siren strobe a couple times. Sarah debated whether to pull over or just keep going, but the siren turned on and stayed on. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off onto the side of the empty county road, put her Jeep in Park and cut the engine.

She closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten, then twenty, as the siren suddenly went quiet. Listening to the silence of the night and the radio traffic coming from the Sheriff’s SUV behind her, she decided to just keep counting.

She heard the snick of a door opening then closing, followed by the soft tread of boots on the blacktop, loud even above the night sounds that were returning to normal. At least he turned off the siren. When the footsteps stopped, she cracked open her left eye and looked sideways.

A massive chest covered in a black bulletproof vest filled her vision, the uniform’s short sleeves straining to contain equally massive biceps. Opening both eyes, and turning her head, she followed the impressive chest as it continued down into snug, form-fitting uniform pants interrupted only by a utility belt around his waist. Between all the gadget pockets, a radio and a Glock 45, the belt added some inches to his waistline, but it still looked narrower than his massive chest.

“Registration and ID please, ma’am.”

The deep baritone sent shivers down her spine. “Seriously? This is how you’re going to play this? You…”

“Ma’am. I need to see your registration and ID. I clocked you doing 75 in a 50 miles per hour speed zone. Even though I know who you are, I must do my duty.” The big officer leaned over, looking into the Jeep.

For the first time, Sarah wished she’d left her doors on the Jeep instead of taking them off for the summer.

The man was drop-dead handsome. Short, black curly hair peeked out from under his Stetson. Eyes so dark they looked black gazed from under the black hat brim. Under his eyes, a straight nose led down to a wide mouth. She tried not to stare, but his lips, even firmed up, as they were now, looked soft and kissable.

“Ms. Smith, if you don’t produce your identification and registration immediately, I’ll be forced to arrest you not only for excessive speed, but also for operating a vehicle without a license and possible possession of stolen property.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped, and she just stared into the dark eyes of the sheriff.

“Sheriff Carson, with all due respect, you can kiss my ass. You’ve known me for how many years? And you know I own this vehicle! Eeeep!

Even before she finished the bleated word, the sheriff reached in and unlatched her seatbelt. As she tried to fight off his hands, he pulled her from the seat and turned her to face the Jeep.

“Put your hands on the roll bar now.” Even as he made the statement, his big hands shackled her wrists and moved her hands toward the bar.

As she started cussing him, she gripped the bar. “You are an asshole! You know damn well…” Sarah started to turn her head.

“Face forward!” he barked. When she faced back into the Jeep, he ran his hands down her arms to begin patting her down. “If you say one more word, I’ll have to read you your rights and charge you with verbal abuse of a peace officer.”

Sarah silently fumed as he continued running his hands down over her shoulders, then along her sides. She tried to ignore the fact that he was feeling his way around her body, and tried to ignore that her girly parts were starting to tingle.

His chest bumped against her back and hips as he leaned down to check her legs.

She was glad she had extra padding in that area, because his vest was not the least bit soft.

Her breath hitched when his hands encircled her ankles and forced her legs to spread open. Her skirt, ending just below her knees, allowed for a little movement. As the sheriff ran his hands up the insides of her legs, he forced the skirt higher.

A cool evening breeze drifted up her bare legs and teased the edges of the skirt.

The sheriff stood before his hands hit higher than mid-thigh. He ran his hands up her back.

A shiver worked up her spine when she realized his spread hands stretched from one side to the other. His thumbs ran up her spine as his pinkies rubbed the outside of her rib cage, and she wasn’t a small woman. His hands were huge, and it made her girly parts do more than tingle.

His hands skimmed across her shoulders and checked the collar of her shirt before running down her shoulder blades and under her arms.

She twitched a little as his fingers ran over her arm pits. Geez, she hated that she was ticklish. All thoughts of laughing died as he palmed her breasts and gently squeezed. Her brain froze as her breath halted in her chest.

“Carson…” Sarah tried to object, but his name came out as a breathless whisper.

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