A few years ago, my husband and I stopped eating processed foods, started shopping at our local farmer’s market and adopted a healthy organic diet. We love to eat, and since we exchanged empty calories and chemically altered “food” for wholesome, delicious meals, we’ve never felt better. Both of us have lost weight, though we’re not dieting, and our overall heath has improved. Organic eating is about quality and bounty, not deprivation. We’ve never looked back since we went organic and have never been happier.

My fresh attitude toward food helped shape the characters of my contemporary romance NATURALLY YOURS. The heroine, Amanda Greer, is sexy and earthy with radiant skin and a lush figure. She is a master chef for a restaurant she co-owns, Organics Fantastic, and firmly believes in the healing power of healthy eating. When Amanda meets Iraq veteran and paramedic Mickey Kendall, and sparks fly, she uses her culinary skills, natural empathy, and sharp wit to mend his war-wounded soul.

–Contest—Leave a comment for Adele Downs and be automatically entered to win a Kindle gift copy of her Amazon Top 100 Best-Selling contemporary western novella KISSING HER COWBOY. Winner announced in the comments section October 10.

NATURALLY YOURS is a new release from Boroughs Publishing. Here’s a peek at the book:

“Who will save a man who saves the world?

Paramedic Mickey Kendall hasn’t slept a full night since his return from Iraq. He rescues victims by day and protects the innocent after dark. Mickey doesn’t do it for glory; he wants absolution, not admiration. He lives by the rule: No personal contact after a rescue. That code meets the ultimate test when Mickey saves a child’s life on a roadside and declines the parents’ invitation to dinner at their upscale restaurant.

Master chef Amanda Greer lives by the principle that delicious food and good company build bridges. When she learns Mickey has refused her business partners’ hospitality, she persuades him to change his mind. The handsome paramedic visits her restaurant and Amanda joins him at his table. Their unexpected chemistry turns kinetic and leads to a passionate kiss.

In Amanda’s arms, Mickey finds relief from the stressors that haunt him, but resists falling in love. When Amanda challenges him to face his demons and accept the love she offers, Mickey arrives at a crossroad. The war-weary paramedic must first save himself to claim the woman who reignites his passion for living and revives his wounded heart.

“You can’t go wrong with Adele Downs.” ~Will Work for Books

Buy at: Amazon | Smashwords | ARe

Excerpt:

“They called you a hero in the press.” Her dark lashes lowered and lifted and she smiled at him with admiration shining in her eyes. “They were right, of course. What you did for Jack can never be repaid.”

Mickey winced at the hero reference. “I hate to disappoint you, but I only did what I’m trained to do.”

Amanda made sounds of disagreement low in her throat. “Elena told me at least a hundred and fifty cars passed her on the highway. Every one of them ignored her cries for help. Of all those people, don’t you think one might have been medically trained? Or at least cared enough to respond? No. You stopped. Only you.”

Oh. He hadn’t thought of that.

She pointed a finger at his chest. “There’s a difference between you and other people. There’s no other way to explain what happened on that roadway. Elena is convinced you’re special, and I never doubt her perceptions. That’s another reason why I wanted to meet you.”

Mickey stared into Amanda’s eyes and her pupils dilated. Her lips parted, ever so slightly, as if to welcome a kiss. Her tongue touched the inside of her bottom lip and disappeared. Mickey knew then, she felt it too. Synergy. Chemistry. An attraction so powerful it turned kinetic on contact.

Some called it love at first sight.

Amanda. Even her name was beautiful.

She took a sip of her drink and he watched her mouth and throat work the liquid. When she set down the tumbler, she wiped a droplet from the corner of her mouth with a trimmed, unpolished fingertip. Mickey wished he could have swiped the bead away with his tongue.

Amanda leaned closer and pressed a hand to his wrist. “Trained or not, you were the only stranger on that highway who had a heart.”

Mickey laid his hand over hers and she let him keep it there. Until now, he wasn’t sure he still had a heart. His had been chipped away, piece by piece, like a block of ice since the war. He’d considered it long gone, with his soul. In mere minutes, what was left had thawed in the center, leaving him raw and exposed.

Amanda continued to speak; clearly unaware she’d stripped away another layer. “I love Jack like he’s my own son. He’s a terrific kid. I’ve helped take care of him since the day the Martins and I started this restaurant. When you saved him, you saved us all.” Amanda leaned in and pressed a quick, sweet kiss against Mickey’s jaw.

Their gazes locked when she sat back in her chair. The gravity of her words and her straightforward kiss humbled him into speechlessness. He’d been thanked many times before, but this woman had gotten to him like no one else. He squeezed her hand and then downed the rest of his drink. Amanda took another sip of hers and set the glass on the table before retreating into silence. She turned the tumbler slowly in her hands.

Mickey looked back at her and tapped two fingers against the menu’s leather cover. “Nothing here is what I expected.”

Amanda returned a quiet smile, either assuming he meant food choices, or pretending he had. She tucked her arms beneath her breasts and leaned forward against the edge of the table, lifting perfect white swells above the neckline of her blouse. “Organic means untouched by artificiality. Grown and consumed in its natural state. We eat only healthy foods unspoiled by chemicals, preservatives, hormones, steroids, antibiotics, and genetically modified seeds or cells. Pure.”

Pure. Mickey gazed at the stunning woman by his side. The texture of her skin looked smooth as cream and welcoming to the touch. He longed to run his hands along her thighs, imagining sleek roads leading to heaven at their apex. “I like the sound of that.” The way she looked back at him while he studied her face made him wonder if she’d read his mind.

The one that had gone dirty.

**

About the Author:

Adele Downs writes best-selling contemporary romance inside the office of her rural Pennsylvania home. She is a former journalist, published in newspapers and magazines inside the USA, UK, and Caribbean.

Adele is an active member of Romance Writers of America and her local RWA chapter where she serves as a past-president. She has written several articles for RWR magazine (Romance Writers Report) and has presented workshops for writers.

When Adele isn’t working on her current project, she can be found riding in her convertible or reading a book on the nearest beach.

**

Visit Adele Downs at https://adeledowns.wordpress.com

Books by Adele Downs on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Adele-Downs/e/B00G1RRS60

Like Adele Downs on Facebook! https://www.facebook.com/authoradeledowns

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‘Tis the season… of ghosts, witches, curses and supernatural mysteries.

Autumn is my favorite season. It’s not just the blazing leaves ranging from ruby red to gold, nor the culinary delights of pumpkins, cranberries and sweet potatoes… it’s something deep in my Celtic soul that seeks rebirth during this time of year as the nights come earlier and mists shroud trees and fields. This is a time of reflection, gratitude and renewal. Autumn reminds me of the cycles of time – life, death and rebirth.

I’m a sacred site junkie, and was fortunate enough in younger years to stand within Stonehenge at sunrise, sit in a crop circle, and visit many places of mystery and power around the world. I’ve lived in a haunted house on the side of an isolated Irish hill, and knew no greater fear than having to get out of my car and enter the dark house alone.

I’ve collected sticks, stones and feathers all my life. Everything has a purpose. Spirit tells me things in symbolic speak – whether it’s a red-tailed hawk soaring above my car, or an ant hill in my lawn, there is a message.

My mother feared her psychic gifts. Since she was born in September and died in November, I’ll share a story here today in her honor. She went home to Ireland to die, so I was thousands of miles away at the time, in the home she’d made on the far side of the Atlantic. We’d said our good-byes before she left. One morning my father, who was with her, called and said she’d surely not make it through the day… that he’d phone after she passed away. At three o’clock in the afternoon, as I stood in her kitchen looking out over her swimming pool, I suddenly felt her around me. A little decorative tile she’d kept propped up on the kitchen countertop for years slammed face down onto the counter. I picked it up and read, ‘today is the first day of the rest of your life.’ In that moment I knew she was gone. I knew my father would phone soon, and sure enough I got the call ten minutes later. She’d stopped to touch me one more time on her way out and had summoned enough energy to put on that impressive supernatural display.

That was twenty-eight years ago, and I still value her message. You can, too. No matter what you are going through, every day we can all say, ‘today is the first day of the rest of my life.’

So, let me take a moment to share a bit about the novella – Autumn Masquerade – I released it this time last year. It’s a tribute to the beauty of this glorious season. Anna works in the corporate world and carefully guards her secret – she is a gifted psychic medium who speaks with the dead. Circumstances force her to be the only psychic at a luxurious masquerade ball in a palatial mansion, and she fears being unmasked. What will her boss think if he finds out she is psychic? Even if he doesn’t fire her, will he ever take her seriously again? Perhaps what is really bothering her is that beneath those concerns, she has fallen in love with the handsome widower. His rejection would leave her devastated. Neither of them knows that help is only a dimension away. His deceased wife decides the only way they’ll ever get their act together is with some assistance from beyond the grave.

Have a splendid autumn and be sure to read some wonderful stories.

Delilah, thanks for having me as your blog guest today.

GEMMA JULIANA is a multi-published author who lives in an enchanted cottage in north Texas with her handsome hero, teen son and a comical dog. She loves making new friends and hearing from readers. Exotic coffee and chocolate fuel her creativity.

You can buy Gemma’s books on Amazon and visit her website https://www.gemmajuliana.com.

Follow @Gemma_Juliana on Twitter: https://twitter.com/gemma_juliana

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When Ellora’s Cave put out a call for their “VaVa Boomers” series, I was intrigued. They wanted sexy seniors—mature heroines (not cougars) and heroes who have the benefit of experience and well-developed skills, “because love, like women and fine wine, gets better with age.”

And so my novella, AARON’S JEWEL, was born. Both Aaron and Julia have real-life problems to deal with, but their connection is immediate and there’s plenty of red-hot sex—when they manage to find time together. As a mature woman myself, I’m here to tell you that you’re never too old to want to love and be loved (and to have red-hot sex!).

A 5-star review by The Jeep Diva includes this snippet: https://www.thejeepdiva.com/review-aarons-jewel-cris-anson/

“…this is the first story I have read where we have over fifties meeting and falling in love in the lifestyle.  It was interesting having them work around the issue of arthritis or slow recovery time…For those of us over fifty, this is a must read.  It is quick little read but oh so satisfying.  It is inspiring.  There is life after divorce, after the kids grow up, after fifty.”

Finding a position as corporate legal counsel in one’s middle-50s after being downsized sucks, so Aaron haunts his local dungeon to soothe his frustration. Feeling squeezed by work and family obligations, editor and ghostwriter Julia turns up at the same dungeon to do “research”. The moment they meet, the Dominant in Aaron recognizes the submissive in Julia. He peels away the layers of her shyness along with her clothes. He gets her—his Jewel—naked and writhing against the cross and over the spanking bench. And she revels in his dominance and tutelage, discovering her wanton self whether tied to a bed in private or blindfolded and the target of many hands in public. But real life isn’t all adult fun and games. Not when grown children, parents, careers and aging bodies conspire to challenge their burgeoning relationship.

Whatever your age, I hope you find and enjoy a loving relationship. And remember, there IS life and love and sex after fifty. Indeed, after sixty! I’m living proof of that.

~~ Cris Anson

BIO:

“Passion Without Boundaries” is the tagline on my website www.crisanson.com  because I firmly believe that life doesn’t stop at the bedroom door. I had a deeply romantic relationship with my husband of 22 years, and I want to celebrate his memory in my writing. After he died, it took me a long time to come out of my grief, but parts of him — his honor, courage, optimism, tenacity, and lust for life — live on in all my heroes. They’re all alpha men, as well.

My first book, DANCE OF THE SEVEN VEILS, was published in 2005 and is still in print. AARON’S JEWEL is my 15^th title with Ellora’s Cave. In the past few years I’ve become interested in the BDSM sub-culture and my most recent books reflect my hands-on research. I also blog about my BDSM experiences at Cris Anson’s Passions. https://crisansonspassions.blogspot.com/

BUY LINKS: Ellora’s Cave | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

SOCIAL LINKS:
Website: www.crisanson.com
Blog: https://crisansonspassions.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cris.anson
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/crisanson/

My evening last night went something like this. I was babysitting the 10-year-old and 5-year-old, and I checked my Facebook messages for news from my daughter about when she might be coming home, because I didn’t have my phone and my daughter doesn’t have a land line at her house. I see that my daughter messaged me an hour earlier.

I talked to a clairvoyant! U there?

I tried to message her back, but she was already on the road home. When she arrived, she said, “Make coffee.” Her eyes were real big, so scurried to make coffee because I do everything she tells me to, right?

When we settled on the front porch (the girls were inside, who can talk over their noise!), she gave me that look—the one I know is filled with juicy delight. “I got the strangest telephone call this afternoon. Some woman called and asked me if I made her dzi bead bracelet.”

Ah. Elaine Something. Yes, I’d mailed a dzi bead bracelet to a woman out west. I’m wondering if there was a problem.

“Who made the bracelet?” the woman asked.

“My mother did.”

“Well, I needed the dzi beads to ward off negative energy, but when I opened the package, the bracelet was gorgeous, but there was so much energy coming off of it, I had to call.”

As it turns out, the woman feels energy coming off of objects. She said that I have a lot of it and that I’m very wise. That she can tell I’m very busy, always driven, doing too many things at once. She tells my daughter, “It’s because she’s lived many, many lives and this is her last rotation. Her last life. She’s trying to fit in everything she ever wanted to accomplish in this last life.”

My daughter said she teared up on the phone upon hearing that. We’d both hoped that when I passed, I’d come back to haunt her. But if I were Buddhist, I’d be completely happy hearing that news because if it is my last life, I’ve reached enlightenment.

But that wasn’t all the news she had. “Does she knew she has angels watching over her?”

Actually, I’ve been told by four previous psychics that I have three muses/guardian angels around me. (It was nice hearing it’s still true. Maybe I can finish another book. 🙂 )

“Does she have an issue with weight?”

My daughter said, “Actually, she does.”

“Tell her to buy Baltic amber and make something to wear against her skin. The yellower the better. But only Baltic amber.” Apparently, aliens brought Baltic amber to the Earth to preserve mankind. Okay. If that seemed a little strange, I’m still heading to Etsy to buy me some amber beads!

And then she went on to tell my daughter that she had so much energy it was making it difficult for her to concentrate. My daughter does have a lot of psychic energy. If she ever has a bad dream about you, it’s best to not step out of the house the next day. And she doesn’t just see ghosts like I do, they’ve spoken to her.

The phone rings as my daughter is dishing to me on the porch, and who does it turn out to be? Elaine.

“My mom and I were just talking about you and she wants to say hello.”

The phone is passed and I listen for about half an hour. Getting a word in edgewise with Elaine is hard, because she seems to be streaming information. She tells me she was moved to call again, because while she has seen angels around other people on occasion, usually they are standing, but this time, she “saw” a very large angel with outspread wings hovering in the air above me, his wings forming an umbrella, as though protecting me physically. And since I’ve been through some very dangerous situations, sometimes blithely oblivious to the peril, I kind of have to believe something has been watching out for me. She also said Jesus was beside me.

I’ll be talking to Elaine again. She seems quite nice. And I do feel as though I’m supposed to be her friend. I don’t think she’s a reader, and she didn’t know my name. She sounded elderly and like she spends a lot of time with her “calling” friends.

And while things like this don’t happen every day to me, it’s not terribly out of the ordinary, not in my life. The stories I could tell… Do you wonder why paranormal stories are so easy for me to write?

How about you? Have you had encounters of the woo-woo variety? Cool news from a psychic? It’s okay to admit it here among friends. 🙂

Note from DD:

I almost didn’t get this posted in time! We had a huge storm last night that wiped out the power for hours. The house got hot. Candles made it hotter, so I blew them out and went to bed. Nothing better to do! Then one of the dogs started barking. Harry doesn’t like storms, and he expects someone to sit in the living room with him or he’s a nervous wreck. I’m not sure when power came back on, but I awoke to air-conditioned air and lights on all over the place, and with Harry nowhere to be found. Rat bastard. So, now I have a crick in my neck from sleeping in the recliner. Can you guess where I’m going as soon as I post this? Yeah, to my nice soft mattress.

Anyway, Brenda Maxfield is my guest today. Check out her new book!

Assaulted and pregnant, sixteen-year-old Lizbet Morgan is shipped off to give birth in secrecy and hand her baby over to strangers. When she returns home to her family’s strict religious community, she is expected to pick up where she left off.  But the nightmare isn’t over. Her close friend Johnny isn’t the only one asking questions, and Lizbet fears that the reason for her absence will soon be discovered. She must decide whether to tell the truth or continue to obey a religious system that forces her to tell intolerable lies. 

 Excerpt from Lizbet’s Lie

I held out the fuzzy yellow blanket, and Edie took a step closer. When I saw her hands close around it, my heart turned to brick. She yanked gently, but I couldn’t let go. She yanked again as if in a mini tug-of-war.

Ned put his arm around me. “Let go, Lizbet. Give it to Edie.”

Edie’s hands dropped from the blanket. “It’s all right, honey. You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to.”

“Let go,” demanded a voice behind me, and I turned to look at Farah. She stood at the entrance to the hallway where my bedroom had been located for the last seven months. Her eyes pierced mine with firm resolve. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I turned back to Edie’s pitying expression. She gave me a gentle smile. “It was good of you to knit it for the baby.  I’ll give it to—”

“Don’t say their names!” I cried and scrunched my shoulders up to my ears. I drew a sharp breath, and Farah brushed my side where she’d come to stand.

Farah pried the blanket from my hands and handed it to Edie. “Everything is going to be fine, you’ll see,” she said close to my ear. “I’m giving Edie the blanket. Then the baby will have something to remember you by.”

Edie took the blanket and pressed it to her chest. Tears filled her eyes, and the pity in them deepened. “Lizbet, it was an honor to have you with us during these past months. You take care of yourself. And if you need anything, let us know. We know it’s over for you now, but we still care.”

Edie’s husband Steve came out from the side office. “I guess this is good-bye then. Stay in touch if you want to.”

Edie closed in. “Lizbet,” she said and her voice was low. “Beverly wants you to continue counseling. She says you aren’t finished. You ask your momma and daddy, you hear? And I’ll send them Beverly’s report.”

Ned stepped to my side and helped me into my coat. “Don’t worry, Edie. We’ll take good care of her.”

Like my folks would ever in a million years agree to counseling.

“Lizbet.” It was Farah. She looked ready to cry. “You better visit me. Don’t you forget.”

I reached out and gave her a hard hug over her bulging stomach. “If I can.”

I walked to the door and realized Ned hadn’t followed me. I turned, and he was standing before Farah staring at her like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Ned, I’m finished here. Let’s go.”

He flinched and put his attention back on me. “Of course, Lizbet. Let’s get you home.”

Steve opened the door and the crisp spring air settled over us. I pulled my jacket a bit tighter.

“Don’t forget,” Farah called after me.

Ned’s truck was waiting under the portico. He lifted my suitcase into the bed and then opened my door. I stepped up into the cab and sat down with care, trying to situate myself against the soreness.

Ned hopped into the driver’s seat. “You okay?”

I fixed my eyes ahead through the windshield, and gazed at nothing. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ned coughed and put the key in the ignition. The truck roared to life. “No reason. No reason at all.”

But he watched me. I could feel his eyes. I felt like I was balancing on a tightrope stretched over a cliff instead of sitting in my brother’s truck on a torn-up vinyl seat. Any tiny breeze would topple me, and I’d crash with a splat in the cavern below and no one would be able to put me together again.

The radio blasted some lame country song.

“Do they know I’m coming?” I asked.

Purchase Links:
Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/mcqoswc
Barnes and Noble: https://tinyurl.com/ks43j7b
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/418064
Astraea Press: https://astraeapress.com/#!/Lizbets-Lie-By-Brenda-Maxfield/p/34826687

Brenda Maxfield Author Bio:

My passion is writing! What could be more delicious than inventing new characters and seeing where they take you?

I’m a teacher so I spend most of my waking hours with young people. I love chatting with them and hearing their views on love and life. My students are magical, and I am honored to be part of their lives.

I’ve lived in Honduras, Grand Cayman, and Costa Rica. Presently, I live in Indiana with my husband, Paul. We have two grown children and three precious grandchildren, special delivery from Africa.

When not teaching, I love to hole up in our lake cabin and write — often with a batch of popcorn nearby. (Oh, and did I mention dark chocolate?)

I enjoy getting to know my readers, so feel free to write me at: contact@brendamaxfield.com. Join my Newsletter Gang and get the latest news, contests, releases: https://mad.ly/signups/85744/join. Visit me to learn about all my books and some smart and sassy, clean teen reads: www.brendamaxfield.com  Happy Reading!

Contact Links:
Website: https://www.brendamaxfield.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBrendaMaxfield
Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6570620.Brenda_Maxfield
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrendaMaxfield
Blog: https://www.brendamaxfield.wordpress.com
Email: contact@brendamaxfield.com
Amazon author Page: https://tinyurl.com/psj82bj
Newsletter: https://mad.ly/signups/85744/join

I’ve always loved cowboys. In fact, Roy Rogers was my first crush…at age five. Although I’m known more for writing contemporary romantic suspense, I simply had to give in to the temptation of writing an erotic historical western romance series called Loving the Lawman. MASTERING THE MARSHAL is the third and latest book in the series. I’m currently intrigued by the lean-hipped, drop-dead sexy U.S. Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens and his take-no-prisoners attitude in the TNT cable series Justified. He’s beyond hot.

So tell me who you’re crushing on. Two lucky winners will receive an electronic copy of SEDUCING THE SHERIFF, book 1 of Loving the Lawman series.

Is she a dead ringer…or a dead woman walking?

When U.S. Deputy Marshal Sam Dunaway arrives in Kenton Valley, Texas, for a murder trial, the last thing he expects is to run into his late wife Celine. The one who supposedly died in a boarding house fire shortly after she ran off with his life savings.

Despite her Plain Jane disguise, Sam isn’t fooled. As soon as his business with the trial is finished, the woman who broke his heart will pay.

Three years ago, Celine had good reason to use Sam’s money to go into hiding—and it’s a secret she must still keep, even if it means certain arrest and imprisonment. Because coming clean risks crushing rejection.

In spite of themselves, the embers of love roar in to a passionate inferno, leaving Sam with a hell of a choice. To stick to his principles…or follow his heart.

Warning: This story contains a woman with a sewing basket full of secrets, and a highly pissed-off U.S. Marshal wants her dead or alive—though alive is better. Just sayin’.

EXCERPT:

Kenton Valley, Texas Hill Country, April 1890

U.S. Deputy Marshal Sam Dunaway opened the door to the sheriff’s office and nodded. “Sheriff Cordero Tate?”

The sheriff nodded. “Cord’ll do.” The sheriff was tall and broad shouldered and showed no signs of his prior tragedy. He rose and offered his hand.

“Marshal Dunaway,” Sam nodded and took the lawman’s hand. “I’d like to see the prisoner and how he’s housed.”

Tate stood and opened the door leading off the main room. It led to the cellblock, containing two cells. Only one was occupied. Barnes was stretched out, apparently asleep on the bunk—as if in a few days he wouldn’t be sleeping forever.

Sam turned and walked back to the outer office. “Appears you have a sturdy enough jail. Any chance the rest of his gang might try and break him out?”

“I’ve got two trustworthy deputies. Besides”—the sheriff shook his head—“the gang’s leader was killed last summer. The rest of ’em splintered after that. ’Course, you never know. Catching Barnes here was more of an accident than anything. He couldn’t resist visiting his sick mama. Thought he might show up, so we took turns keeping an eye on the Barnes homestead.”

“Smart thinking. If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who killed their leader, Tyler?” Not to mention the sheriff’s new wife was half-sister to the ringleader. Wonder that didn’t complicate matters.

“That’s right.” Tate sat, gesturing for Sam to pull up a chair.

A man of few words. Good. Removing his Stetson, Sam hooked the toe of his boot around a chair leg, dragged it over and straddled it. Now they could get down to the business of the trial. “I need a place to hold the trial. Any suggestions?”

“Haven’t had much call for trials till now. There’s the school or the church or the saloon.”

“Good. I’ll check ’em out. Prefer a neutral ground over the saloon. Any chance we’ll find twelve sober men come trial time?”

Tate shrugged. “If you’d rather move the trial to a bigger town, it won’t hurt my feelings none.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m here to see he gets one. Don’t care if it’s fair or not. That’s up to the judge, not me.” He stood and settled the Stetson on his head. “I’ll head over to the church, then to the school. Let you know which one I decide.”

The sheriff nodded. “Any word on when the judge will arrive?”

“Few days. He’s presiding over a trial in Llano.” He headed to the door, then stopped. “The livery?”

“Livery stables are behind the boarding house at the north end of town. Miz Foley oughta be able to fix you up while you’re here.” Tate jerked his head in the direction of the cells. “She provides meals for the prisoner, and she’s a damn fine cook.”

Sam touched the brim of his hat, nodding his appreciation.

Outside, he untied and mounted his horse, then headed north, passing the general store and dry goods. He glimpsed the tall, slender figure of a woman standing in the window of the dry goods store, a sudden apparition that had him twisting around in his saddle to get a better look. But his horse had other ideas and kept heading north.

Damn. She looked familiar, so familiar his heart sped up and his mouth went dry as sand. Just the memory of their loving stiffened his prick. But it couldn’t be Celine. His wife had burned to death in a boardinghouse fire almost three years ago.

When the news of her death had finally reached him, he’d still been too angry to grieve. She never would’ve died if she’d stayed home where she belonged instead of running off with his life savings. Served the bitch right—that was what he’d thought at the time.

But now… If this woman really was Celine and not someone who was her spitting image, what he wouldn’t give to bed his wife one last time before he locked up her low-down, thieving ass.

Web site: https://marienicoleryan.com/

You can find my books at all the usual online retailers.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Marie-Nicole-Ryan/e/B002BOHSCG/

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Marie-Nicole-Ryan?store=book&keyword=Marie-Nicole+Ryan/

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/search?Query=Marie-Nicole+Ryan/

iBooks/Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/marie-nicole-ryan/id411245235?mt=11/

Hello Everyone! Thank you to Delilah for having us here. For those of you who don’t know about us, yet, we are Marley, Victoria and Haylie and we make up Boyfriend Bookstand.

We are the authors of Kink vs. Class, our novella, and Grinding in Greenville our first full length novel. We are three best friends who might not have a lot in common on surface but are bound by our love of books and circumstance.

Marley is a sexually driven, free-spirited individual who takes what she wants. She is unapologetic for her antics, knows who she is, is fearless, and considered by some untamable.  Victoria is Marley’s polar opposite.  She is a bit on the naïve side, very conservative and (was) a bit on the sexually inexperienced side.  Victoria’s life hasn’t turned out quite the way she had hoped for, but life has a funny way of working out. Haylie has been through some rough situations, but through it all she still believes in her happily-ever-after.  She’s stronger than she looks and loves a dirty book. She may be seen as soft, but she has an indestructible core that shines through.

We found each other in college and became bound together through the books we love and our book boyfriends. We’ve known each other for so long and been with each other through so much we decided to write about our crazy adventures.  You can read about all of our crazy adventures at the links below.

For now, we want you to tell us about your best friends. How did you meet and the craziest adventure you’ve been on! We’ll choose one person to win a E-copy of Grinding in Greenville! (Winner will be today at midnight)

One-Click Links for Kink vs. Class:

Amazon US:  https://tinyurl.com/pkaqg27
Amazon UK:  https://tinyurl.com/kmfg8g9
Amazon CA:  https://tinyurl.com/n32s6hr

One-Click Links for Grinding in Greenville:
Amazon US:  https://tinyurl.com/p34wews
Amazon UK:  https://tinyurl.com/qjno2eu
Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/k87s3lj
Kobo: https://tinyurl.com/lmx7sws
INDI BOUND: https://tinyurl.com/no5bvue
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/474203
Google Play: https://tinyurl.com/nfc5pxa

Don’t forget to take a peek at our hot trailer:
https://youtu.be/kBaTBHaq8U8

If you want to get to know us better, stop by any of the following links to get more information on us or if you want to stay up-to-date with all of our releases text BFBS to 96362!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BoyfriendBookstand
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BoyBookstand
Instagram: https://instagram.com/boyfriendbookstand
Website: https://www.boyfriendbookstand.com/

If you want a peek into the craziness that is us, then stop by an upcoming takeover! Or you can join our Street Team if you think you’re a real #BoyfriendBookSlut:
https://www.boyfriendbookstand.com/street-team-fan-club.html