FIRST FRIDAY EXCERPT WEEKEND!

Whether its a current work in progress, a specific scene we love, or a that moment when the hero and heroine first meet, everyone loves a sneak peek or a refreshing reminder now and again!

We invite you to sample these tasty excerpts!

MR. DECEMBER

by Amanda McIntyre

A Last Hope Ranch novel

THE MISTLETOE MISTAKE

A man with a badge.

A woman with a past. 

An arsonist on the loose.

Things are heating up in End of the Line.

Her mother’s stroke a little more than a month ago had precipitated Olivia’s return. She refused to leave her bed, despite the number of urging of her doctors in Billings. She’d refused going to the End of the Line care facility for physical therapy, instead demanding services at home. Not surprising. Her mother been a prisoner, of sorts, for as long as Olivia could remember.

Olivia glanced at the portrait. In the shadows, his face appeared even more menacing. Perhaps she could burn it. Certainly, it wasn’t worth a dime. Even the bank where he’d been president for the majority of Olivia’s teenage years wasn’t interested in keeping it. Breathing a sigh, she knew her mother would forbid it. What would the home health care nurses say were it to suddenly disappear from the house? Appearances were, and always had been a priority to Camille Evans.

She looked again at the boxes staged by the door. With any luck this bevy of antiques and collectibles would bring a little in to help with expenses. Olivia closed her eyes pushing down the frustration that her father had brought to their family. Not only hiding his abusive behavior from the community—but discovering he’d left them with enormous debt, proving his selfishness, even from the grave.

A sound outside caught her attention, causing her to straighten. Her ears perked. Her photo-journalistic work had taken her around the world, given her many experiences. Flash images of a particular night in the dark Serengeti caused a rush of tingles to skitter across her shoulders and down her arms.

A soft tap sounded on the front door. Frowning, she glanced at her watch, realizing how late it was. The sidewalks in End of the Line rolled up no later than seven on a week night.

A second rap, slightly stronger issued again. She reached out, her eye still on the door and grabbed her father’s brass-knob cane. Flipping on the porch light she peered through one of the two narrow beveled windows flanking the solid oak door. Her breath caught at the sight of a man with broad shoulders turned away from the door. Olivia spotted the Sheriff's insignia on the truck in the drive. What on earth would he be doing here?

She lifted the tarnished chain latch, wondering if it would even hold up to a stiff wind. Just one more thing falling apart in this old house.

The formidable figure turned toward the door and her heart came to a standstill. It couldn’t possibly be—

She slipped the lock fully from its mooring and opened the door. “Jacob Nash? Is that you?” Olivia took him in from his closely cropped dark hair and shadow casing of a beard to the width of his shoulders encased in an old gray varsity T-shirt and faded blue jeans.

Lord have mercy.

“Olivia.” He response was clipped.

Aware that she’d forgotten her shower, forgotten many things, having gotten side-tracked in cleaning her father’s den and likely looked a mess only highlighted the very vivid memory of the last time she’d seen Jacob Nash. Shoving away the image of the back seat of his old Camaro on prom night, she glanced at her watch. “Are you aware of the time?”

He rubbed one eye, ignoring her question. “Our dispatcher received an emergency 911 call from this residence.”

He leaned forward slightly to peer over her shoulder. Olivia noticed his brow lift on seeing the boxes stacked by the door.

“Just dropping by to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Well, I certainly, didn’t call—” Her confusion cleared and she pressed her hand to her forehead. “It must have been my mother.”

“Dispatch felt perhaps she was in distress,” he said. “Have you checked on her?” There was a judgmental tone in his query that smacked all too familiar to her upbringing.

She knows to text my phone…” Olivia reached inside the strap of her sports bra where she kept her cell phone. It was gone. “Shoot. I must have laid it down someplace.” She glanced up catching his gaze on where her hand had been. His, too, for the briefest of moments. But that was long ago. Two young kids. Caught up in a rush of emotions. Both needing connection. Never thinking about the next moment.

He cleared his throat and it brought her back to the present. Eyeing her as though he’d been reading her mind, he sighed and looked away before he spoke. “Maybe we should go check on her.”

It was more of an order than a suggestion. At least to her ears, which admittedly were burning with her previous thoughts. Olivia stepped aside and allowed him to walk inside. Closing the door, she ushered him to the stairs. “She’s in her room. Starting up ahead of him, she glanced over her shoulder to find his gaze on her running tights.

“I was out for a run. The nurse was just leaving and indicated that mom was sound asleep. I guess I didn’t want to wake her and I got busy with--"she paused --“other things.”

“Did you happen to be near downtown on your run?” he asked.

The odd tone in his voice caused her a moments hesitation. “No, prefer taking the old mine road and go east. It’s quiet,” she said, pausing at her mother’s bedroom door.

“I realize End of the Line is a small town,” he said, his low-timbered voice causing all manner of unexpected tingles. “Still, it’s not wise to go jogging alone at night on some desolate road.”

Her mouth curled in a grin as she turned to face him. He had no idea how many unsafe places she’d been over the past several years. “Thanks, I appreciate your concern. What are you the jogging police?”

“Sheriff,” he stated, his gaze unwavering. “County Sheriff.”

“Oh, I see. That explains a lot,” she muttered, and gently pushed open the door.

Her mother with a look of terror in her eyes held her arms out to Olivia.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” Olivia rushed to her bedside and handed her the white board that had fallen to the floor.

“I tried calling you, but there was no answer. I tried and tried. Then I heard noises downstairs. I didn’t know it was you…” Her penmanship, usually one of her proudest attributes, was sloppy in her haste causing her greater agitation.

“Mom, it’s okay It was me downstairs doing some cleaning,” Olivia cupped her mother’s shoulder and eased her back on the pillows. “It was only me, mom. I’ve been right here since Nadia left.”

Her mother sighed and closed her eyes. She looked up then at Olivia, a mixture of sadness and fear in her eyes. She grabbed Olivia’s hand and squeezed it. Her chin quivered. It was that look at the age fifteen, that would change Olivia’s life, sweeping her into the veneer her parents had painted over their marriage. One that caused her to become a protector and shield for her father’s violence.

 Coming from Amanda McIntyre for the holidays 2019.

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A BRIDE FOR BRYNMOR 

by Jacqui Nelson
Book 1 in the Songbird Junction series
 a Llewellyn Brothers Western Historical Romance Adventure

Denver, Colorado
January 1878

Alone in the shadows of the alley, Lark scanned the sunny street filled with city folk who might help or hinder her pursuit of freedom for her family if they— She shook her head, rejecting her doubt. If wasn’t acceptable. She couldn’t fail them again. 

They had to make it to this pre-arranged meeting spot.

Oriole, sweet as she was savvy, had chosen the location. But two years earlier when Oriole’s violin required repairs, Oriole had been the only one allowed to enter Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s Music Emporium.

Lark had been disappointed not to view the treasures inside. Today, she cared only for what she might see outside—her sisters, who’d agreed to meet here if they were separated fleeing Cheyenne. After fourteen years together, the last twelve days apart made her heart ache unbearably.

She searched for Wren’s timid form. So easily lost in a crowd. And smothered there as well. Wren was the best singer in their three-woman songbird troupe, but she only shone when she performed in the circle of their act. Wren would suffer the most on her own.

How could she have lost them? Now? After all this time? She’d lied and schemed and surrendered everything—including her liberty and the man she loved—to keep their trio together. How had it all gone so wrong?

Because Beelzebub wouldn’t let his pawns go without a fight.

Their troupe manager, Ulysses T. Stone—who some called Tombstone, was both a devil and a dog. He had a hound’s nose for finding people he could bamboozle into giving him what he craved most: fortune and fame. He coveted an audience’s attention as much as their money. 

How he’d found them at the church mission in the Qu'Appelle valley, far to the north of here, had become a tangle of lies peppered with just enough truths to keep them under his power. 

Anger stirred the turmoil in her heart. He may be the maestro of manipulation, but she was the granddaughter of Cree warriors. She would not fail Oriole and Wren. She would find them and take them far away from the man who’d vowed to never let them go. 

Coming from Jacqui Nelson in September 2019.  

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CHRISTMAS COMES

TO APPLE GROVE

by C.H. Admirand

Small Town USA Novella

Joe Mulcahy’s Second Chance at Love…or is it?

Now that his three daughters are settled and busy with families of their own, he’s ready to declare himself to the lovely widow, Mary Murphy. But timing in life is everything…and Joe’s plans go awry...but...

        Christmas is a Time for Miracles

Joe drew in a deep breath and opened the door to the Apple Grove Diner. With a nod to the sisters behind the counter, Peggy and Katie McCormack, he strode over to the picture window facing Main Street and stopped next to the booth where Mary Murphy sat drinking coffee with Miss Trudi Philo.

They were deep in conversation and didn’t notice him approaching their table.

“I heard that Deputy Jones’ sister-in-law  is praying Sgt. Jones makes it back in time for Christmas.” Before Miss Trudi could comment, Joe cleared his throat. That got their attention.

“Why Joseph,” Miss Trudi said with a smile, “how nice to see you in the Diner at this hour.”

A shaft of sunlight surrounded Mary. She smiled at him and just like that, he knew it was a sign that he was right not to wait until they’d figured things out. Who cares how many houses they owned, or how many couches they had between them?

He dropped to one knee and reached for Mary’s hand. Her eyes widened and her hand fluttered in his grasp.

Determined, he cleared his throat a second time, and conversation in the diner came to a halt.

“Mary Murphy, will you marry me?”

Her mouth opened and closed twice, but not a sound emerged. She reminded him of that trout he’d snagged a few months back.

The silence grew awkward, and he’d later swear not a soul in that diner drew a breath during those agonizing minutes Mary kept him waiting.

His heart picked up the beat as he started to sweat. Why did he have to kneel down? He couldn’t trust his bad knee not to give out on him.

Wouldn’t that just cap off the silence, having Doc Gannon running into the diner to help him to his feet?

Before Mary found her voice and added insult to injury by telling him no, Joe lifted her hand to his lips, brushed a kiss across her knuckles and stood.

Without another word, he nodded to Miss Trudi and Mary, spun on his heel, stalked to the door and jerked it open. He’d parked next door behind Mulcahys. The short walk didn’t release any of the tension building inside of him since he’d hit the floor on one knee and…nothing.

             “I’m too old for this!” 

Coming from C. H. Admirand.

~ * ~ 

CRIMINAL ALLIANCE
by Angi Morgan
Book 4 in Texas Brothers of Company B
(formerly Ranger Warrior)

Just another two-for-one long neck Friday special. Wade sat on the same bar stool he’d ended his nights on and had claimed for years. This particular stool was the last one next to the wall, located where no one could catch him by surprise. Only his right side was open to patrons. Better for his vision, especially now that it got fuzzy from time to time.

    He should be somewhere else.

    Maybe somewhere more respectable for a Texas Ranger. That wasn’t here. Someplace he could share that he was a ranger. Or maybe with his friends. But they all had girlfriends. Heath was back home with his wife. Slate might as well be married. And Jack—his so-called partner—was engaged.

    He should find some other friends. Maybe some who liked to…to what? Watch a game? Play trivia over some chicken wings? It didn’t matter where he went or what bar stool he ended up on. He’d still be looking at every dark-haired woman who walked in the door to see if it was her.

    Dammit. He couldn’t keep this up. Six weeks was long enough visiting bars on lower Greenville Avenue. His search for Agent Therese Ortis needed to end.

    Soon. No. Tonight. He’d shown his face once too often in other dives. Earlier the barkeeps had waved him past their place, in a hurry to get the discouraged ranger on his way. His badge was far from good for their business.

    So here he sat. His go-to joint that knew him from way back. The one place where they gave him a pass for having a badge.

    Twisting the rest of his lime slice into his Mexican beer, he studied the peel—more interested in the citrus than in anyone around him. He needed to take Jack’s advice. If Therese wanted to get in touch… Well, she knew how. She’d done it before to save Megan and a second time to save his hide before Rushdan Reval blew him up inside a building.

Across the room, the door banged open. Heads— including his—turned toward the noise.

    What the hell?

    “Wade!” The woman who had haunted his dreams crossed the sixty feet, dodging drunks and other happy-hour patrons who had quickly returned to their conversations.

    “You have got…” she began too loudly before nervously looking around and landing next to him at the bar. “You’ve got to stop your…your inquiries. Are you listening to me? I’m furious.”

    No, he hadn’t been listening. She was dressed in the smallest bright yellow dress—more like a piece of a dress that could still be respectful—and he barely noticed anything else. The color set off her dark brown hair.

    The bling around her neck drew his eyes straight to the diving-low plunge between her breasts. How the hell was she walking in those heels?

    Shoot. How did the dress stay in place?

    The woman who’d actually 100 percent saved his life licked her lips and drew a deep breath. Trying to ignore her, he looked down at the bar, stabbing the three lime slices with a plastic sword.

    “Hey, Wade, hon?” Her erotic voice whispered close to his ear while her feathery touch on his hand shot all sorts of feelings through him.

    Six weeks without a word.

    And she was mad. At him?

    Even though she’d been caught working with crooks last year, he’d never believed she was on the wrong side of the law. Something in their sparse conversations had forbidden him from thinking badly of her. Then six weeks ago he’d found out—like a kick to the head—she was working with the FBI or something. Nobody talked. Lots of secrets. Had he forgiven her for taking away a major case?

    Probably not.

    There was no mistake who she spoke to. She’d stopped so close her breath of air brushed his bare neck, encouraging him to act. But he wouldn’t. He didn’t have the right. Even if she had called him hon.

    “I like you in a T-shirt. It shows off these strong arms. But this button-up looks great on you, too. It brings out the steel blue in your eyes.”

    He could tell her he liked her dress. Or not.

    Yeah, she squeezed his biceps. Yeah, she puckered her lips together like she waited for a kiss.

    “No.”

    “Are you sure?” She eased onto the stool next to him, her long legs reaching sideways under his. Damn, that yellow silky thing climbed up to her hip. “I haven’t even asked anything.”

    Wait. Were they talking about a kiss or the favor he thought she was about to ask? He should consider himself lucky that the stools weren’t close enough for him to pull her onto his lap to find out. Lucky?

    Therese twisted away from him to face the opening door and back again with a blank look. A big fella walked inside, propping the door open with his foot and calling to a buddy on the sidewalk. They both entered, finally shutting the door to keep the cooler air in and the blistering summer heat outside.

    Everything about her demeanor changed. Where she’d been full of anger she was now soft. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath through her nose and making her breasts swell in the tight dress. Then she wet her lip gloss with the tip of her tongue. To stop his drool, he tipped the beer to his mouth, drinking her in with his eyes.

    The fresh burst of lime made him lick his lips, or was he mirroring the seductress beside him? Then her dark red lips parted ever so slowly. Slower than necessary and very practiced. Hell, he could give in right then, doing whatever she asked, having no idea what it might be.

    Instead he broke off his stare and looked around the intimate, off-the-beaten-path bar. Mostly regulars with the exception of the last two men. Every corner was shadowed and filled with secrets, but he didn’t butt his nose in. He knew the ins and outs. Knew what to expect. He’d been coming here since college and it didn’t hurt that no one broadcast that he was a Texas Ranger. He’d never had a need to show his badge. Not here.

    “I know it’s been a while since I’ve called. Please don’t be annoyed with me.” She swiveled on the stool, reaching for his limes, daring him not to look down the low-cut dress she flashed under his chin.

    “I’d have to care to be angry. Or annoyed,” he lied. He didn’t know the reason for her personality switch, but he’d play along.

    “There’s just been a lot going on, hon—” She pouted.

    Pouted? Therese Ortis didn’t seem the pouting kind.

    What the hell was going on? She knew he’d been looking for her and seemed pretty doggone upset about it less than five minutes ago.

    “So you aren’t angry, annoyed or even a little hurt, baby?” she smiled with a knowing smile, circling a deep red nail around the back of his hand.

Hon? Baby? What was she trying to pull? She reached out, taking his extra lime and swiping her tongue across it. She knew exactly how to make him nervous. But she was the one shaking like a leaf in a windstorm—the only thing that kept him from showing her just how angry he wasn’t.

    Yeah, he was succumbing to the seductress line. What man wouldn’t? But it was the trembling that got him.

    Her eyes darted in every direction, checking for trouble. The bartender walked to the other end of the room and she leaned in close.

    “I need a big favor. I can explain everything if you give me a chance.”

    Even though the intensity changed from flirtatious to urgent, he still answered, “I’m all out.”

    Explain? Nice fantasy. Therese never explained. He poured more than a sip of beer down his throat. He tipped the bottle toward her, politely asking if she wanted something. She shook her head while he caught the bartender’s eye and ordered two more.

    “I promise not to land you on desk duty again. What do you say?” she asked in a low, sensual voice he had fallen prey to a few times already.

    Wade had wanted to connect with her for over a year. Why the hesitation? Desk duty. Uncertainty. Tired of being used. Downright irritation at being ignored.

    “I say—” he grinned way too big “—that you haven’t mentioned anything I haven’t heard before.”

    “I’m sure that can’t be true,” she still whispered.

    “Considering I can recall all seven conversations we’ve ever had… Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can clearly remember every word that you’ve said.” And exactly what you haven’t.

    “I really, really think you’re going to be interested in my favor, hon.”

    “Nope,” he kept his voice low, matching hers.

    He was done. Had nothing left. Finished. Kaput. Refused to get involved. Remember? And yet, completely curious.

    “Is there anything I could do or say to change your mind?” She drew circles on his shoulder, dragging her long fingernail down his arm until she got to his hand.

    She looked innocent. If he knew her better he might think she seemed desperate. But he didn’t know her better. She came to him when she needed something. Case or no case, he didn’t like being used.

    And he hated giving in to her, to anybody.

    Therese’s eyes darted to the mirror.

    The two large men moved away from the opposite end of the bar and Therese stiffened. Obvious to him since she held his hand. Probably not obvious to the men who had eyes for no one else in the room. They looked like typical guys, with the exception of the bulges under their jackets. Jackets worn for the simple reason of hiding the weapons.

    They were there for her—obviously.

    “Wade,” she said way too loudly. “I’m so hungry.”

    “What?”

    She dropped a finger across his lips to stop his next question. Her eyes moved to the mirror. His hand gently tugged hers from his face back to the bar and slid a longneck bottle into it.

    “I guess I need to hear about that favor after all.” He squeezed a lime slice and pushed it through the sweating bottle.

Coming from Angi Morgan, Valentine's Day 2020

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