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The next Lone Star Lovers story is out!
Tuesday, May 16th, 2017

Dear Readers and Friends,

First, thanks to everyone who wrote and said you want more of my stepbrother SEAL mini-series. I do love writing them, so it’s good to know someone wants to read them!

Today, the next story in my Lone Star Lovers series is out! You remember Dani, Rowe, and Justin from the first story, Unbridled. Well, Dani’s very pissed off brother is about to have a lesson in forgiveness. It’s not a story for everyone. Infidelity is a hard thing to get past. But for Cutter, it’s a lesson he needs to learn before he can hope to find any happiness. I hope you’ll give the story a chance. And never say never until you’ve walked in another’s shoes—if only in a make-believe story :)

Unforgiven is here!

Unforgiven 600

One lonely cowboy’s revenge was never so sweet!

Cutter Standifer is a man with a rigid personal code, who’s having trouble “acclimating” to the fact his little sister is marrying one cowboy and shacking up with a second. That the man she’s marrying is the same one who shattered his world a year ago isn’t something he can get past. Forgive and forget? Like hell. Not when he lost the only woman he ever loved.

It’s been a year since Katie Grissom shared the same air as Cutter, but she can tell he’s still simmering with anger over her betrayal. However, she’s been praying for a chance to make it up to him, so when Cutter offers her a no-strings affair, she jumps at the chance, hoping to either break through the rigid wall he has built around his heart or get him out of her system for good.

When Mother Nature complicates their arrangement, she’s scared he’ll do the right thing for all the wrong reasons. Now, she may never know whether she’s truly forgiven or whether he’ll ever learn to love her again.

Get your copy now!

Remember, this too is just out!

SOWithHisSEALTeam4 600

I’m Hunter. It’s the name I was born with, and the name my SEAL buddies let me keep, due to my uncanny instinct for finding enemy combatants. I’m not an easy guy to know. Most women might give me a look, but there’s something in my eyes I’ve been told, that makes them wary about coming closer. A hint of violence that only freaks find sexy. Freaks—and Sara, my little sister. Stepsister, that is.

Get your copy here!

Ready for pre-order now!

FourSworn 600
BreakingLeather 600
Anita Philmar: A Little History of Cattle Drives
Sunday, April 30th, 2017

During the late 1800’s, cowboys drove millions of cattle to the railroad towns of Abilene, Dodge City, Wichita, and Newton. A long trip, men were out on the trail for twelve to sixteen weeks, covering over a thousand miles to get the herd to market. In Texas, this process usually started in February with the ranchers branding all their cattle. Then they would decide on which ones to sell. With over a thousand heads, a team of maybe fifteen men handled the herd on the trail.

These men faced all types of hardships: sickness, Indians, bad weather, and hours on end in the saddle. The trail boss took the lead and scouted ahead for water, grass, and places to bed down for the night. The cattle strung out in a long line. Two men would ride at the front of the line, keeping the lead cows pointed in the direction they wanted them to go. Several other cowboys would ride intermittently along the long trail. These flank riders kept the cattle moving. At the end of the line were the rear riders, making sure no animal strayed from the herd. These men ate the dust of the group.

After a long cattle drive to Abilene, Trent McCall just wants to unwind. But in his absence, his father’s been making wedding plans…for Trent. The last thing he needs is a spoiled and pampered socialite for a wife. What he needs is a hard drink and a willing woman. An uncomplicated woman who understands a man’s need for release after a hard ride. Good thing he’s got one waiting for him.

Four years back East haven’t changed Catherine Turnberry’s mind. Her heart is set on neighboring rancher, Trent McCall. When an end-of-the-trail party threatens to put him in the arms of another woman, Catherine grabs the bull by the horns. Taking the place of the whore hired to pleasure Trent, she intends to give him a welcome he’ll never forget and show him what Texas passion is all about.

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Exclusive Excerpt…

“It’s too hot for a fire,” Catherine groaned at the wooden walls and ignored the book on her lap. A light breeze from the cracks in the window’s shutters caressed her neck and blew under the collar of her cotton robe. Her gaze darted to the bed in the corner. A worn quilt she’d allowed to air out all day covered the sagging mattress. Clean sheets lay underneath the spread.

Should she turn down the covers to make the bed look more appealing? Or would he care more about what she had on?

She ran her hand along her ribcage and pictured the black corset under her robe. The tight fit hugged her waist and lifted her breasts. She shifted in the rocker, and the soft fabric of her favorite pink bloomers caressed her legs. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Could she really go through with this?

And what was taking Ray so long?

Did Tom forget to tell him?

The sound of hoof hitting the hard ground outside awoke her nerves.

Could that be Ray or someone else?

The thud of boots hitting the porch pulled the breath from her lungs. The latch clicked and the door opened. A large man filled the doorway.

Four years hadn’t changed Ray’s tall muscular frame. Wide shoulders, beefy arms, narrow hips, and a flat stomach, he stood like a Viking ready to do battle. Heat, with a touch of fear, filled her body at the thought of him lying over her. She drew in a hurried breath and closed her book before standing.

“Well, now, did you think I’d ever arrive?” He shut the door and tossed his hat onto the table by the door. Dark curly hair circled his head and his dark brown eyes met hers.

About the Author

Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way. Influenced by sci-fi programs, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where erotic moments come to life in a great read.

Naughty or Nice? Read her books and decide.

Visit her at and save 20% on her books.

Ann Major: Men of the West!
Friday, April 14th, 2017


As a special thank you, Delilah for inviting me onto your blog, I am offering my latest boxed set, Men of the West Books 1-4 (usually $6.99), to her followers for $1.99.

(FOUR full-length novels for 50 cents each for a limited time only!)

Since I live in Texas and adore all things western, I enjoy fantasizing and writing about hot alpha cowboys and the women they love.   You won’t want to miss these four passionate tales while they are on sale.

Wild Lady
Just when Texas bride Kit Jackson has her life all planned out: the perfect wedding, the perfect husband, the perfect future, Ted, the man she loved and lost returns…with his small motherless daughter.

The Fairy Tale Girl
When a woman on the run falls for her new neighbor, a rancher with a wounded heart, neither can resist the other. But will shocking secrets from their pasts threaten their second chance at love?

Meant to Be
Leslie knows too well the dangers of falling for a man who can’t care for her. So, why did she invite this rugged stranger into her bed the first night she met him? Worse, what should she do to salvage her fresh start when she discovers he’s her new boss and he’s determined to fire her?

Golden Man
Prim and proper Jenny Zachery was the small, Texas town’s preacher’s daughter. Blade Taylor, her brother-in-law, was the local bad boy. What nobody knew was that he’d always been her secret desire.

When she becomes a widow faces financial ruin, Blade comes home for good. But will she give their love a second chance?

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About Ann Major

USA Today bestselling author writes spicy contemporary romances and westerns. She loves hot Alpha guys who wear cowboy hats…and cats…cats with or without cowboy hats.

Twitter: @AnnMajor

Thursday, January 5th, 2017

Wind River Rancher:  Shattered, but still fighting to be whole once more…

Wind River Rancher, Book 2, Wind River Valley series, s an emotional story that will suck every reader in.  I’m known for gritty, visceral and emotional writing, and this book is no exception. It just happened to catch the eye of Publisher’s Weekly and it received a ‘starred’ review (like winning an Oscar) on 12.3.16.

This series I’m writing is about military vets returning home from combat from all over the world, mostly focused on the Middle East.  Having been in the US Navy during the Vietnam War era (I served stateside as a weather forecaster at USNAS Moffett Field (now known as Silicon Valley) near San Francisco, California.

Book 1, Wind River Wrangler, the hero is an ex-Army Special Forces operator, Roan Taggart.  He has left the Army with PTSD, no longer able to function at that high level any longer in black ops duties.  He gets a job as a wrangler at the Wind River Ranch, where it’s quieter, it’s out in Nature and he is slowly healing from his internal PTSD wounds.   Only, as life usually slaps us in the face, one way or another, he’s thrown back into a threat/life-and-death situation with Shiloh Gallagher, a writer from New York City.  She’s escaped to the ranch to hide from a stalker who has torn her life apart.  Figuring if she lives in Wyoming to write, her stalker won’t find her and she can breath once more, not look over her shoulder 24/7/365.  Roan’s peaceful, back water life explodes when the stalker locates Shiloh.  Once again, he’s thrust back into a combat situation.  And for Shiloh, the nightmare begins anew when she thought she’d found safety at the ranch.

Book 2, Wind River Rancher, the hero is an ex-Marine Corps captain who commanded a company of Marines over in Afghanistan for years. The deployments, the combat, eventually took a toll on him, too. Reese Lockhart was a twenty-year man, his only dream was to become a Marine officer and protect his people, guide them and support them. Only the Afghanistan war gradually wore him down and sucked the life out of him, as it did so many others. He was given an honorable medical discharge, against his wishes. His whole life-dream has been shattered. He’s fractured internally by the PTSD, and you will meet him two years later as his story unfolds. He’s degraded to being like so many other vets we see on the streets of every city in the USA: shamed, hopeless, depressed and he cannot hold a job. In this book, I took “the gloves off,” as we say, and delved into the hero’s state of mind, his distorted emotions, his thinking he was a failure in every possible way.

EXCERPT from the opening to Chapter 1 of Wind River Rancher

Reese Lockhart’s stomach was tight with hunger as he stood at the outskirts of a small Wyoming town called Wind River. The sign indicated a population of two thousand. He’d gone a month without decent food. Six inches of snow stood on the sides of the road where he’d walked the last ten miles on 89A north. It headed toward Jackson Hole, where he was hoping to find work.

The town, for a Monday afternoon, was pretty slow. A couple of pickup trucks came and went, a few people walked along the sidewalks on either side of the highway that ran through the center of town. He halted outside Becker’s Hay and Feed Store, an aged redbrick building standing two stories high. The red tin roof was steep and sunlight reflected off it, making Reese squint. Bright lights now hurt his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, feeling the fear of rejection once again, he pushed open the door to the store. Would he get yelled at by the owner? Told to get out? It was early May and snow had fallen the night before. The sleepy town of Wind River still had slush on its streets midday.

The place was quiet, smelled of leather, and he saw a man in his sixties, tall, lean, and with silver hair, behind the counter. He was sitting on a wooden stool that
was probably the same age as he was, an ancient-looking calculator in his work-worn hands as he methodically punched the buttons.

Girding himself, ignoring the fact he hadn’t eaten in two days, Reese’s gaze automatically swung around the huge establishment. A hay and feed store was something he was familiar with. Maybe the owner wanted some part-time help. He needed to make enough money to buy a decent meal.

Shoving away the shame he felt over his situation, he saw the man lift his head, wire-rim spectacles halfway down his large nose, his blue eyes squinting at Reese as he approached the long wooden counter.

“Howdy, stranger. Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Maybe,” Reese said. “I’m looking for work. I saw you have several big barns out back, and a granary. Do you have any openings?” Automatically, Reese tensed. He knew he looked rough with a month’s worth of beard on his face, and his clothes were dirty and shabby. At one time, he’d been a Marine Corps captain commanding a company of 120 Marines. And he’d been damn good at it until—

“I’m Charlie Becker, the owner,” the man said, shifting and thrusting his hand across the desk toward him. “Welcome to Wind River. Who might you be?”

“Reese Lockhart,” he said, and he gripped the man’s strong hand. He liked Charlie’s large, watery eyes because he saw kindness in them. Reese was very good at assessing people. He’d kept his Marines safe and helped them through their professional and personal ups and downs over the years he commanded Mike Company in Afghanistan. Charlie was close to six feet tall, lean like a rail, and wore a white cowboy shirt and blue jeans. Reese sensed this older gentleman wouldn’t throw him out of here with a curse— or even worse, call law enforcement and accuse him of trespassing.

The last place where he’d tried to find some work, they’d called him a druggie and told him to get the hell out; he smelled. While walking the last ten miles to Wind River, Reese had stopped when he discovered a stream on the flat, snow-covered land, and tried to clean up the best he could. The temperature was near freezing as he’d gone into the bushes, away from the busy highway, and stripped to his waist. He’d taken handfuls of snow and scrubbed his body, shivering, but hell, that was a small price to pay to try to not smell so bad. He hadn’t had a real shower in a month, either.

“You a vet, by any chance?” Charlie asked, his eyes narrowing speculatively upon Reese.

“Yes, sir. Marine Corps.” He said it with pride.




Lindsay McKenna

A sexy excerpt from Making a Madam!
Tuesday, December 20th, 2016

For those folks who received this book yesterday, I hope you enjoy it! I’ll admit I loved writing it. Merry and Daniel were made for each other. Both were lonely and daring, although Merry hadn’t quite reconciled with that part of her nature until she was challenged. Guess it took the right man…

For those of you who haven’t seen the story yet, you’re welcome to drool over the cover. Not sure what he’s looking at—her boobs, I think. But that’s okay, too, right? :) Enjoy the excerpt!
Making a Madam

Newly widowed Merry Winslow treks west to claim an unexpected inheritance. Upon arriving, she discovers she inherited a brothel! Rather than being dismayed, Merry’s intrigued, thinking it the perfect way to shed the shackles of propriety that have subdued her wild and impulsive nature. Only problem is, she needs to learn to manage her new business.

Nathan Boone is amused by Merry’s determination and knows the perfect way to begin her instruction. When he opens the peephole for Merry to peer inside as one of the brothel’s “soiled doves” pleasures a customer, he reveals the passion hidden beneath Merry’s “widow’s weeds”.

Get your copy here!

Excerpt from Making a Madam…

A callous-roughened finger lifted her chin. “Do you want me to stop, Merry? I don’t consider this part of our bargain.”

She opened her mouth to tell him it was all happening too fast, that she needed time to think, but her gaze locked with his.

Candlelight didn’t reach the shadowy hollows of his deep-set eyes, lending him a sinister appearance. Her heart skittered for a moment then her glance lowered to his mouth.

She’d barely had a taste of him, yet his lips were still blurred from their kiss, his bottom lip slightly swollen and oh-so tempting to explore.

The undisciplined part of her, the one she’d finally unleashed only this morning, made her rise on her toes and press her mouth to his to savor the taste and texture of him. Whiskey mixed with salt, firm but soft lips…

His mouth opened immediately, and his tongue thrust between her lips, sliding over her tongue, reaching deep to stroke and glide, filling Merry’s head with visions of Nathan gliding over the tops of her breasts and suckling her nipples, just as Johnny had done to Daisy.

Nathan’s hands slid up and down her back, his grip strengthening as he reached lower and cupped her bottom again, pressing her closer to the thick ridge crowding inside his pants.

Remembering the sight of Johnny’s cock and the way Daisy had pleased him, Merry’s doubts burned away, and she felt suddenly eager to see what she’d taken so deep inside her own body.

She tore her mouth from his. “I’d like to see you,” she said, in a thick voice she barely recognized as her own.

“Shall I undress for you?” he asked, gliding moist lips along her cheek.

“Please. Quickly.”

His hands dropped away from her, and he stepped back.

Golden light from the oil lamp on her desk, and the one candle beside her bed, flickered over him as he stripped. His jacket landed beside his feet. His suspenders slid from his broad shoulders. When his crisp white shirt lay crumpled beside him, she lifted her gaze to follow the curve of the tops of his powerful shoulders and the thick, ropey muscles of his chest and abdomen. A light dusting of dark hair stretched between his flat nipples and arrowed down toward his trousers.

She realized with a start he hadn’t worn anything beneath his shirt, no long-handled underwear, and she wondered if he’d bothered with any undergarments below.

Feeling breathless as his hands hovered over the button at the top of his pants, she flattened a hand against her chest, which only made her more aware of the shallow breaths lifting her chest and the heavy thud of her heartbeat. “Why did you stop?” she blurted out.

“Sorry,” he said, flicking open the button. “I was too busy watching you, and wondering if I needed to get you out of that corset.”

“I am a little winded, but please,” she said, waiving toward his lower body, “continue.”

Disappointingly, he started this time with his boots, toeing them off one at a time then drawing off his woolen socks. As his hands returned to the waist of his trousers, her breath caught and held.

He tugged down his trousers, wincing when they snagged. He reached inside and cupped his erection then worked his clothing the rest of the way down his hips. When he straightened, she understood the deep sigh he let out.

His cock strained upward, thick and straight against his belly. Much larger than Johnny’s—and even more impressive than the glass cock Daisy had stroked inside herself.

Merry stared for a long moment, noting the ruddy color of his shaft, the purplish shade of the rounded head. It pulsed once, up and down, a little telltale jerk that she knew he couldn’t control since he stood so stiffly, waiting for her comment.

“Please stay just like that,” she whispered, reaching for the buttons behind her neck, opening her dress slowly and awkwardly until the front fell forward, exposing the top of her corset and the gentle swell of her bosom. A few more tiny buttons, and she slid down the skirt to pool around her feet. Her petticoats followed, and then she bent to unbutton her boots and slid them off, only realizing as she straightened, that she’d given him a view of her breasts plumping above the restrictive corset.

She flushed, wishing she wasn’t so absurdly shy. He stood with his cock bared, and she still had clothing covering most of her womanly parts.

“Let me unlace you,” he said, his voice sounding tight and husky.

She walked toward him and slowly turned her back. His nimble fingers plucked the laces until the hard boning relaxed, and the corset fell away. At last, she could draw a deep breath. Then wearing only her chemise and drawers, she faced him.

His glance swept her body then met hers. Tension tightened his large, muscled frame. His hands settled on his hips as he waited.

She supposed it was only fair. Merry pushed down the shoulders of her chemise, one at a time, lifting her arms out, but keeping her breasts covered with the fabric. She wished she’d thought to douse the lights before she bared the rest for his gleaming gaze. “Maybe you could turn around…”

A tic pulsed along the side of his jaw, but his features softened, and he stepped out of his trousers and turned.

This view of his body did nothing to ease her embarrassment. His shoulders only seemed wider, narrowing to a trim waist. His buttocks were rounded, firm, and she had the strangest urge to cup them.

“Are you going to change your mind, Merry?” he said, still facing away.

“I’ll admit I’m a little disconcerted, undressing for you like this. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”

“Because your breasts aren’t as large as Daisy’s?”

“Neither are my hips.”

“I’ll like everything I see, I promise. I’m partial to slender women.”

“Have you done this with many women?”

“Enough I’ve learned how to please a woman. Will you let me show you what I’ve learned?”

Linda Carroll-Bradd: Libbie — Bride Of Arizona, Book 48 in American Mail-Order Brides series
Saturday, January 9th, 2016

I’m pleased to share my latest historical, Libbie: Bride of Arizona, that was part of an unprecedented author collaboration of 45 authors writing a mail-order bride story connected to each of the 50 American states!


Will a tomboyish outsider with unusual habits find a home with an Arizona rancher who has strict ideas on what’s appropriate in a wife?

Publisher:  Inked Figments
Release Date:  1/5/16

Alone for the first time, tomboyish Libbie Van Eycken accepts a mail-order proposal and travels across country to find a place to call her own. Arizona rancher Dell Stirling needs a wife but didn’t count on the eccentric creature that brings chaos in her wake.

Purchase Links:
Exclusive to Amazon:
Free in Kindle Unlimited


“What do you have there?” Libbie stepped forward and angled her head, hoping for a peek at what the women had been looking at when she entered. But, as always, her short height thwarted her from seeing.

Sally glanced between the two other women and then reached behind her sister and stepped forward, laying a newspaper on the block table in the middle of the room. “Dora used to work at a textile mill in Lawrence which is about thirty miles away. Just recently, the place burned down, leaving approximately one hundred women without jobs.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” Not that she’d ever held a job, but Libbie knew many women in America worked in offices or factories to support themselves. “What will they do?”

“Well, Sally is my only family, and I’ve come to Boston to find a new job. I stayed in Lawrence for a week, hoping to find similar work but there’s naught to be had.” Dora glanced at the door to the main hallway and stepped closer. “Miss, please don’t tell your aunt I’m here. At least, not until I find work and can offer to pay for my room and board.”

“Yes, Libbie, please keep our secret.” Sally wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Although, now I’m thinking Dora should arrange for a husband through the gazette’s ads.”

Surprise jerked Libbie back a step. “A husband in a newspaper?” Then curiosity forced her gaze to the page.

“See? Grooms’ Gazette.” Sally pointed to the masthead then moved lower. “Elizabeth Miller works as a matchmaker in a nearby city. She prints and distributes this newspaper as a way to share information about men in other states and the frontier who are hankering for wives.”

A wave of gratefulness for her family, as far-flung as they were now, flashed through Libbie. Granted the trans-ocean travel by ship was long and boring, but she knew they’d be waiting with open arms at the end of her journey when her time at the Academy was completed. She scanned a few of the letters and then leaned both elbows on the counter, intrigued by the variety of situations the men were in. Logger, rancher, shopkeeper, doctor, farmer, miner, lawyer, professor, saddler, dentist, saloon owner—almost every occupation under the sun. Most sounded honest and upstanding, and also very lonely. Some were too specific in their requirements, which told her those men would not possess easygoing personalities. She straightened and waved a hand toward the newspaper. “Dora, are you considering this?”

“Several of my co-workers were writing letters to arrange matches when I left Lawrence. My friend, Grace Dickinson, wrote to a gentleman who’s a mason way out in Montana.” The young woman wrung her hands and shook her head. “I just don’t know if I can do this. Although having a home of one’s own sounds wonderful.” She turned toward Sally and her lower lip quivered. “But to move too far away worries me.”

“Tell her, Libbie, that coming from another country ʼtisn’t so bad.” Mary crossed her arms at her trim waist. “Sure, I miss the green pastures of County Cork and watching the ships in the harbor. But I like being warm and having a roof over me head even more.”

The cook spoke the truth. Although Libbie barely remembered her father’s older sister from the family’s visit when she was seven or eight, she was grateful to be staying with her aunt and cousins. After a month in Boston, Libbie still hadn’t adjusted to the large number of people living so close together, or the noise from peddlers in the street, horse-drawn cabs and trolleys, tolling church bells, and wailing fire sirens. “Every place I’ve lived has good and bad aspects. Only you can decide what town or situation is best for you, Dora. Maybe you should look for the locations of men living the closest to Boston.”

A smile creased Dora’s chubby cheeks. “I like that idea. Thank you.”

“Excuse me, miss, but yer aunt hasn’t yet rung for her tea.” Mary frowned and glanced at the pendulum clock on the wall. “Could ye step into the parlor and check on her?”

“Yes, Mary, I will do that on the way to my bedroom. I have been sent home with Mrs. Templeton’s specific instructions to practice my gliding.” She held out her arms straight and took exaggerated sliding steps. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted the women stood with hands covering their mouths, suppressing their laughter, and she gave them a cocky grin.

About the Author

lcLinda C-B casualAs a young girl, Linda was often found lying on her bed reading about fascinating characters having exciting adventures in places far away and in other time periods. In later years, she read and then started writing romances and achieved her first publication–a confession story. Married with 4 adult children and 2 granddaughters, Linda writes heartwarming contemporary and historical stories with a touch of humor from her home in the southern California mountains.

Linda’s Links:

Website  Blog  Facebook  Twitter   Goodreads

Caroline Clemmons: Bride Brigade
Sunday, October 11th, 2015

Fall is my favorite time of year. In addition to cooler weather, the excitement of the approaching holidays crackles in the air. Spring colors enchant me; Fall creates electricity which enlivens my imagination.

My latest flight of imagination is a new western historical romance series called BRIDE BRIGADE, and JOSEPHINE is the first release.  Eventually there will be seven books in this series. Names of the diverse heroines to follow are Angeline, Ophelia, Cassandra, Lorraine, Rachel, and Prudence. Due to fitting these around other scheduled projects, Bride Brigade books will be spaced out over the next six or seven months. I hope you’ll read each one.

I have to admit I love the name of my fictional town, Tarnation, located in the Palo Pinto Mountains of North Central Texas just north of present-day Interstate 20. Every state has numerous unusual town names. This one makes me smile every time I use the word but I know why the town is called by that name. You have to read JOSEPHINE to find out.

csJosephine final 6X9Here’s the synopsis of JOSEPHINE:

Josephine Nailor is desperate to escape a terrible situation. When the opportunity arises via a newspaper ad, she and her best friend slip away from their oppressive fathers and head for Richmond.  Neither can relax until they’re far away from their tiny hometown. With wealthy young widow Lydia Harrison’s help, Josephine and six other young women have a new life waiting in Tarnation, Texas.

Michael Buchanan is fairly content running his mercantile and being mayor of Tarnation. The town is dusty and tiny, but it’s growing. He believes it holds all he needs to be happy—except a wife. There are no available women in town, but he hopes Lydia Harrison’s Bride Brigade will offer a woman he can wed. He is immediately attracted to Josephine.

But Josephine has every reason to mistrust men in general and politicians in particular. Will her misgivings ruin her chance at happiness?

Here’s an excerpt from JOSEPHINE:

Josephine stepped from the stage and stared at the men assembled. Every muscle and bone in her body ached from the long ride from Fort Worth. A breeze swirled dust from the street without cooling her skin.

She thought she’d been prepared for a small western town, but Tarnation shocked her. There were only a few stores. Surrounded by low hills she learned were called the Palo Pinto Mountains, the town must not have over two hundred residents.

One of the tallest and most handsome men she’d ever seen stepped forward and removed his western hat to display thick dark hair. His electrifying blue gaze locked with hers until she pretended to check her purse.

He said, “Welcome to Tarnation, ladies. Nice to have you back, Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Gaston.”

Lydia brightened in spite of her exhausted appearance. “Girls, this is our mayor, Michael Buchanan, who owns the mercantile. The man beside him wearing a badge is Sheriff Adam Penders.”

Inwardly, Josephine cringed. Barely off the stage and already she encountered the mayor and the sheriff. While they were both nice looking and neither leered, she certainly wouldn’t trust either man. She’d hoped to reach a safe haven where no one knew her and she’d be free of her father and crooked politicians.

Josephine had no intention of being at the mercy of any man ever again. She’d look for some means to earn her own way. Glancing around the businesses, she realized her choices were severely limited.

The other men pressed forward and Josephine took a step backward. Mayor Buchanan raised his arms. “Gentlemen, please don’t crowd. You’ll all have a chance to meet the ladies soon. They’ve had a long journey and are doubtless tired. Give them time to get settled. In the meantime, give a hand with the luggage.”

In an instant, the trunks and cases that weighed down the stage were unloaded and hefted. Lydia led the girls, many of whom chattered excitedly. Following behind, men joked and talked while they carried the women’s belongings.

Lydia turned in at a neat gray clapboard home trimmed with white and wine. A painted picket fence surrounded the front yard. The house was huge, by far the largest in sight. Josephine believed this home would have been elegant in Virginia before the War. In this dusty Texas town, the effect was astonishing.

Lydia smiled graciously. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen. I’ll be sending each of you an invitation to our social events later.”


Buy Links include:

Amazon  in print or e-book
Nook;jsessionid=93795F25673A572EB3B4D1AC1378BDCA.prodny_store01-va10?ean=2940152308112  in print or e-book.

Caroline Clemmons is an Amazon bestselling and award winning author of historical and contemporary western romances. A frequent speaker at conferences and seminars, she has taught workshops on characterization, point of view, and layering a novel.

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

Thanks to Delilah for sharing her blog with me today.

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