RELEASE DAY: Catherine Bennett "Devon's Choice"

Blurb:

Life holds no surprises for Devon Murphy. Her life consists of keeping tabs on her aging Irish father, working part time at a coffee shop, and building her online graphics design business. Devon’s only tricky situation is a shallow relationship with the pampered and affluent Michael Turner, who sees her as just another woman to conquer. 

Following his father’s death, Brandon’s only goal is to expand the family business and live life on his own terms. That is, until he walks into the coffee shop one snowy evening and meets the enchanting, red-haired barista behind the counter. But can Devon and Brandon’s attraction for each other be strong enough to help erase their deepest disappointments and renew their faith in God? 

 

 

Author:

Catherine Bennett lives in her hometown of Columbus, Ohio. Her first book, “The Trouble With Charlie”, is published by Astraea Press. Catherine has two grown sons and resides with her husband and two Labrador retrievers.

 

 

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Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

 Devon stood up to her boot tops in snow as she breathed in the crisp, winter air. The first sunrise of the New Year peeked between the houses and spilled onto the street. The sturdy branches of the old maples bowed to the weight of the fresh snow. Parked cars and drawn curtains let her know most of the neighbors must be sleeping in from their late-night revelry. Now the only sound to break the peaceful silence came from the snow plows a few streets over and old Mr. Taylor’s Chihuahua barking ferociously at Bubby from his living room window. A tug on the leash signaled that Bubby had finished his business and was ready to move on.

 “Just a minute, boy. I’ve got to pick up your mess.” Devon bent down and nimbly thrust her hand into the bag while Bubby strained at the end of his lead. “Hold on, my boots don’t have traction control,” she told him as he lunged playfully into the fresh powder. She dumped the bag into the trash and they continued their walk around the small park.

 Devon pulled on the leash. “C’mon, Bub. We’ve got to get home. Daddy’s frying bacon.” Bubby’s ears perked up at the mention of “bacon” and their pace quickened toward the house.

 “Hi Daddy,” Devon said, closing the door behind her. She unsnapped Bubby’s leash, slipped off her boots and parka, and walked into the kitchen. “Happy New Year!” She kissed her father on the cheek and opened the dog food container. Hearing the dry kibble being poured into his bowl, Bubby raced across the room and began to eat.

 “He sure loves his food,” Charles Murphy observed. “Don’t think I could eat the same bland stuff everyday. I guess if I did, I’d lose some of this belly.” He pointed to his small pot of a stomach.

 “Unless you ate only barbeque potato chips and crème-filled sponge cake rolls.”

 “Okay, you got me. Tell you what, I’ll make that my New Year’s resolution. I, Charles Murphy, solemnly promise that starting tomorrow, I will eat only bran flakes and skim milk for breakfast. And I will become a health food nut just like my crazy daughter.”

 Devon raised an eyebrow at him while he piled several strips of bacon onto his plate. A mound of scrambled eggs and overly buttered toast lay next to the bacon strips. His first fib of the New Year; he had no intention of following through with the resolution. She carried her plate of eggs and whole-wheat toast to the table. Charles followed with another plate of greasy hash browns.

 “You’re full of malarkey! You know you can’t give up your pot roasts and pork sausages, which, by the way, are not helping your blood pressure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat fish, unless it was coated and deep fried.”

 “And you never will! Fish is meant to be dunked in batter and fried in as much grease as possible.” Charles sat down at the table and dug his spoon into the potatoes. “That kind of food will put meat on your bones.”

 “I know, I know. You’ve been telling me that since I could chew. And don’t give Bubby any bacon. You’ll make him fat!” The guilty look on Charles’s face let her know he’d already dropped a piece on the floor for the dog.

 “Fat! The way you run that dog in the park, he could qualify for the Kentucky Derby!”

 They laughed, then ate in companionable silence. Devon glanced over at her father. His white hair showed no yellow tinge as happens to some seniors; it was white as a new, starched napkin. His bushy eyebrows matched and caused his cobalt blue eyes to sparkle even more. Though not a tall man, his personality made him seem larger than life. He always flirted with words and could make people laugh, no matter how depressing the circumstances might be. And for not being born in Ireland, he exuded his Irish heritage in every way, especially in his stubbornness.

 Fifteen minutes later, Charles leaned back in his chair. “Now that was one of the best meals I ever ate!”

RELEASE DAY: Heather Gray "Queen"

Blurb:

You can't hide from the past.

Queen's world was shattered, and she was banished to a foreign land. Years pass before she dares to return, but what she finds is of little comfort. Greed and dishonesty have festered and grown in her absence. Embittered and cynical, Queen trusts few people.

Owen pursues a clandestine investigation and finds himself working side-by-side with a veritable ghost, an agent few have seen, a master of disguise known simply as Queen.  He craves her trust…but then uncovers a secret from his family's past that could destroy her.

Queen once sought refuge in America and now seeks it in disguise. Owen has always found his refuge in God, but will his faith be strong enough for the challenges ahead? Can he convince her to stop hiding, or is he doomed to become her most hated enemy?

 

Author:

Heather Gray authors the Ladies of Larkspur inspirational western romance series, including Mail Order Man, Just Dessert, and Redemption.  She also writes the Regency Refuge series: His Saving Grace, Jackal, and Queen - plus contemporary titles Ten Million Reasons and Nowhere for Christmas.  Aside from a long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys are her relationships with her Savior and family.  She also enjoys laughter.  This theme is prevalent in Heather's writing where, through the highs and lows, her characters find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.

You can find Heather online at http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting, http://www.twitter.com/laughdreamwrite, and http://www.heathergraywriting.com.  She can also be found most days at The Inspired Inkpot, a street team, prayer group, and all around awesome place to hang out - http://www.facebook.com/groups/theinspiredinkpot.

 

 

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Excerpt:

Prologue

Christmas Eve 1817

Owen crouched low and looked around him. At least four hale and strong men had given chase. He was nursing a bullet wound to his side and a knee expressing reluctance to cooperate.

The alley's darkness provided the illusion of safety. He might yet get out of this alive, if the clouds cooperated and kept the moon concealed.

Leather scraped on cobblestones to his right, and he pivoted, knife at the ready. An old man stumbled down the alley. His stringy grey hair was greasy and his coarse woven clothes tattered. He reeked of liquor, vomit, and… Owen wrinkled his nose as he fought the urge to gag.

The ruffians who'd been chasing him must have heard the old man, too. Or, worse, they'd heard Owen. They stopped their pursuit down the street and began backtracking to the mouth of the alley.

Drat. Owen slipped back behind some crates. He wanted to call a warning to the old beggar but couldn't risk giving away his position. Instead, he tucked his body as tightly together as his wounds would allow while he prayed.

"Did you hear that?"

"Someone's down there."

"Who's there?"

The old man shuffled his way, with a dragging hitch to his step, toward the street.

Come on, old man. Get out of the way. They're not looking for you!

"Never mind. It's a drunkard. Let's keep searching."

From his vantage point, Owen watched as one of the thugs shoved the beggar down onto the ground and then kicked him full in the ribs. He winced in sympathetic pain but dared not leave his hiding place yet. To reveal himself at this juncture would ensure a far worse outcome for both him and the old man.

The echo of footsteps faded and silence once again fell over the alley, broken only by the yowling of a tom cat. A few minutes ticked by with no indication the group would return. Owen eased himself out from his position, relieved to no longer be wedged between a slimy moss-covered wall and the dilapidated, rotting crates. Pain radiated up and down his side from where he'd been shot, and his knee burned with each step.

The old man hadn't moved since landing on the cobblestones. Stooping, Owen glanced at the man's hair-covered face. Age was kinder to some than to others. Between the faded moonlight and the excessive facial hair, Owen couldn't distinguish any features beyond the large bulbous nose. The poor gent could have used a little more kindness.

A slight movement of the chest caught Owen's eye, and he sighed with relief. Now to figure out how to move him…

The old man was bulky, and Owen was wounded. Could he rouse him? Would he be able to walk? Owen shook the man by the shoulders. His efforts elicited nothing but a high-pitched groan. Seeing no hope for it, he pulled the man over his shoulder and stood, keeping most of his weight on his uninjured knee.

No longer radiating, the pain in his side now pulsed with each beat of his heart, its intensity growing with his exertion. Getting the old man settled across his shoulder as best he could, Owen took a step toward the street. Dizziness swept through him, and he knew his knee was in worse shape than he wanted to admit. Three blocks would still be manageable. Wouldn't it? A back room in the apothecary's shop housed a clandestine meeting place for agents.

The apothecary was barely three blocks away…

Blast it, what had he been thinking?

RELEASE DAY: Tracy Krauss "Lone Wolf"

 

Blurb:

Thomas Lone Wolf has recovered from a brush with death – and from a broken heart. His work of opening a First Nations cultural center at an archaeological site near the town of Marshdale is almost complete. Once his son graduates from high school, he and his daughter will have to move on to the next project. Just when he has resigned himself to being a single dad for the rest of his life, he meets a woman who seems perfect. But can his wounded heart take a chance on love again?

 

 

 

Author:

Tracy Krauss is a best-selling and award winning author, artist and playwright. She is a member of 'American Christian Fiction Writers', 'Inscribe Christian Writers Fellowship', and ‘The Word Guild’. Originally from a small prairie town, Tracy received her Bachelor’s Degree from the U of S with majors in Art, and minors in History and English. She teaches High School English, Drama and Art – all things she is passionate about. Apart from her many personal creative pursuits, she also leads worship at her local church. She and her husband, an ordained minister, have lived in many remote and unique places in Canada's north. They raised four children and were active advocates of the homeschooling movement for many years. They currently reside in beautiful Tumbler Ridge, BC, known for its many waterfalls. Visit her website for more info: http://www.tracykrauss.com

 

 

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Excerpt:

 

Chapter One

 

Thomas Lone Wolf poured himself a cup of coffee, inhaling the heavenly scent as he clattered the pot back into place on its burner. He cradled the mug in his hands and sniffed, enjoying the warmth and the aroma before taking a tentative sip. He winced and touched his cheek, then let out a whispered oath. Good thing the kids were still sleeping. He didn’t usually swear, but he’d had a toothache for days and the hot liquid touched a nerve. He took another sip, bracing himself against the pain. Once the steaming brew was past the tooth and down his throat he expelled a groan. It was a tossup which was worse, the pain in his tooth or going without his morning coffee. The third sip went down much better. Once the initial shock was past, it didn’t hurt so much. He took another larger gulp and stopped to gaze out the kitchen window. He lifted the faded sheer material away from the frame just a bit more so his view wouldn’t be obstructed.

He’d come to love the vastness of the view before him. Wide open prairie. Some people said it was boring. Table flat with nothing to see. Thomas saw it differently. There was subtleness to the land. It wasn’t flashy or brash, yelling to get attention. Instead the grasses rippled like the waves on a calm ocean, just barely discernible, but moving nonetheless. He loved the change in color, too. Muted browns, rich ochers, vibrant greens, each taking their cue as the seasons morphed against a backdrop of sky. Perhaps this was the most impressive of all. The sky was a living thing here, awe-inspiring in its vastness; sometimes clear and blue, sometimes filled with fluffy cumulus clouds, sometimes flashing with powerful forks of lightning. Magnificent.

Thomas let the curtain drop back into place. He downed the rest of his coffee and set the empty cup in the sink. It was time to wake his children. His daughter, Whisper, was in the second grade at Marshdale Elementary School. She’d been in kindergarten when they moved here. His son, Ryder, was in his senior year at the high school, ready to graduate in just a couple months’ time. Then he’d be off to college. Time sure had a way of flying.

Thomas had decided when he first moved to Marshdale that they would stay put, at least until Ryder graduated. His children had been through enough upheaval in the last five years since their mother passed away from cancer. When they moved to Marshdale so that Thomas could oversee the opening of a First Nations cultural center, he decided then and there that it would be their home until the center was complete. As it turned out, it was perfect timing. The grand opening was taking place this summer. He felt a melancholy mix of relief and sadness. He would no longer have an excuse to stay.

Not that life in Marshdale was ideal. Initial resistance to the center and thinly veiled racism had been a hard obstacle to overcome. There weren’t very many other aboriginal families in the small farming community, and he tended to stick out. At well over six feet, with his long, black braid and dark complexion, it was hard to mistake his indigenous heritage for anything else. Still, they had managed, despite some rough spots, and had since settled into the life of the community.

The fact that Thomas had a strong faith was partly what got him through the first few months. Without God on his side, he wasn’t sure he could have weathered the opposition. His biggest adversary turned out to be a lunatic of sorts, who had stabbed him on the steps of the church shortly after Christmas the first year they lived here. Thankfully, he’d recovered fully. The incident might even have swayed public opinion in his favor, since the culprit was also the chair of the heritage committee.

It had been a tough first few months. He’d even thought he was in love at one point, with his daughter’s teacher no less. Just when he thought he was ready to love again, she’d rejected him. In hindsight he saw it was for the best. He wasn’t ready for a relationship at the time and she ended up marrying a local farmer. It had been awkward at times, since he and Con McKinley, the man in question, were also good friends.

RELEASE DAY: Kitra Kaspar "The Greatest is Love"

Blurb:

What happens when city doctor Joey Winters meets country lawyer Brad Freeman? Nothing, because Joey is determined to stay unattached. Rural Freeman, Oklahoma is not in her life plan, which means falling for a handsome small-town lawyer is out of the question. Too bad she forgot to tell her heart. However, when Joey’s painful past haunts her, she realizes she will never have a meaningful relationship with any man unless she battles her demons. She knows she needs help but believes God abandoned her long ago. Add in a gorgeous banker named Evan, and the doctor’s life seems to spin out of control. Can Joey trust in God? Does He even care about her?

 

Author:

A retired teacher/counselor, Kitra has three grown children and lives on a farm in northwest Oklahoma with her husband, two dogs, and one cat. When she’s not writing, she loves to be Mimi to her two grandchildren. Kitra is active in her church and community, but books and words have always been her first love. She is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and feels it’s important for inspirational fiction to deal with modern issues and a God who has the power to heal any hurt the modern world can inflict.

 

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Excerpt:

Chapter One: The Tongues of Men

Dr. Joey Winters took one look at the scuffed and peeling linoleum, and her heart sank. If she were the type of woman who cried when misfortune struck, she would be bawling.

All of her life, Joey had dreamed of her first medical practice. She’d envisioned a modern facility in a large city where she could use her skills to improve the lives of thousands of people. Thanks to the Doctors for Rural Oklahoma Program, a decaying building on the outskirts of nowhere was what she got. Not what she’d planned, and yet another example of the bad luck that seemed to seek her out.

Why would any person in her right mind want to live in a town like Freeman, Oklahoma?

Beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. The room wasn’t much cooler than the ninety plus temperatures outside. Joey swiped at the moisture with one hand and fanned herself with the other. She executed a slow three hundred and sixty degree turn and scanned the room with the thoroughness of any good doctor. Fresh paint mingled with old dust. Wilted, floral wallpaper clung with tenacity to the walls. Water rings, the souvenirs of past rainstorms, colored the ceiling tiles. An assortment of metal chairs huddled in the corner under not-so-white sheets.

The air conditioner rumbled, and a breeze brushed the top of her head. Joey turned her face toward the source of reprieve, soaking in the coolness. As if on cue, the machine sputtered, and the air stopped.

A frown creased her forehead. Could things get any worse?

“Dad, is that you?”

Joey jerked her head toward the sound of a male voice. A tall man entered the room holding a paintbrush in one hand and a rag in the other. Yellow and blue paint speckled his T-shirt and jeans. Thick, dark hair glistened with polka-dots in the same colors. Sweat drew dark circles under his arms. A suntanned face drew her notice. High cheekbones and a strong jaw gave his face a chiseled appearance. His eyes reminded her of a body of water at night—black and fathomless.

The Adonis walked toward her. Joey had to look up to maintain eye contact.

He mopped his brow with a rag and then gave her a smile. “The clinic’s not open yet, but we hope to have it up and running in a week. If it’s an emergency, you’ll have to go to Clinton.”

“No,” Joey said with a wave of her hand. “You don’t understand. That’s not why I’m here.” She paused, trying to get her brain to work. “Well, I guess that is why I’m here, but it’s not an emergency. What I mean is I’m not sick or anything.”

The man had the audacity to grin.

Why did she feel like a pre-pubescent girl in the presence of her favorite teen idol? She had to take back control of this conversation. Her hand shot out. “I’m Dr. Joey Winters.”

The paintbrush went sailing. She jumped back in anticipation of the splatter. With all the grace of a natural athlete, he caught it against his leg. It left a splotch of lemon paint on his jeans and on his hands. “That was close.”

Joey tried again. “I’m the new doctor.”

After laying the brush on the floor, he used the rag to wipe his hands. His gaze never left Joey’s face. “I’m Brad Freeman. Sorry for my clumsiness.”

Recognizing his name from the welcome letter she received a week ago, she let her arm fall to her side.

“I didn’t get paint on you, did I?”

RELEASE DAY: E.A. West "Different"

Blurb:

Jezebel Smith is different. She can’t talk, she doesn’t look like anyone in her family, and no matter what she does it’s always the wrong thing. God accepts her for who she is, but He’s the only one who does. Then she finds an unconscious man in her favorite cave, and her life is turned up-side down. New people and new rules collide with the old, leaving Jezebel unsure of which set of rules apply to her life. When the strangers in town attempt to help her out of the nightmare she’s grown up in, it promises to change her life forever.

 

Author:

E.A. West, award-winning author of sweet and inspirational romance, is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she picked up her pen in a creative writing class and hasn’t laid it down yet. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, knitting, and crocheting. She lives in Indiana with her family and a small zoo of pets.

For more information visit: http://eawest.mcphitty.com

 

 

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

The distant drip of water echoed off the rocky walls as Jezebel Smith wandered through her cave. Pungent fumes from her kerosene lantern stung her nose, and she wished for a flashlight. But her family would miss a flashlight. They never noticed when she took the old lantern from the barn.

Turning her face away from the lantern, she caught a whiff of the familiar scent of the rocks around her. She loved the fresh, earthy smell of her cave. Through countless hours of careful practice, her hiking boots barely produced a whisper on the bumpy path leading to her special cavern. If she swung the lantern on its creaky handle, however, she could fill the cave with a creepy echo that reminded her of Halloween.

She passed through an opening in the wall and entered a large cavern with several ledges in one end. As she approached the lowest ledge, the glow from her lantern touched an unfamiliar lump on the floor below the rocky shelf and she froze. She knew every inch of this cavern — every rock, ledge, and bump in the floor. No one ever came here. Nothing ever changed unless she changed it. The cave was the only thing she could count on to always stay the same.

This time, however, there was something new. The cave had broken its own rules, adding a boulder where one didn’t belong. She crept toward it, fighting tears of hurt that the cave would trick her like everyone else, and the golden light of her lantern revealed it wasn’t a boulder after all — it was the still form of a man. Her pulse pounded in her ears, so loud it threatened to drown out her own thoughts. Where had he come from? Why wasn’t he moving? Her heart skipped a beat. Was he dead?

Fear and the need to know warred inside her, and the need to know won. She moved a little closer and studied the man carefully. When she saw his chest rise and fall she let out a relieved breath. Well, he wasn’t dead, but what was wrong with him? He was close to the higher ledges. Maybe he had fallen off one and gotten hurt. She scanned him for obvious injuries, the light swaying as she rocked from one foot to the other. His arms and legs were at the correct angle, and his neck looked okay, but he had a bleeding cut on the side of his forehead near his red hair.

She knew how to treat cuts, except she’d never bandaged a cut on another human. Only herself and hurt animals she found in the woods. But she couldn’t leave this man bleeding on the floor of her cave. Cuts hurt, and she hated seeing any living thing in pain.

Jezebel ran her mind over the meager contents of the small cavern through the opening in the far wall. She had enough supplies left from the injured raccoon she’d treated last week to take care of the wound on the man’s head. Was it okay to use the same kind of supplies on a human that she used on animals? She used the cloth strips to bandage bleeding cuts on animals, and the man had a bleeding cut. Since she didn’t have anything else, she decided it would be okay to use her animal bandaging supplies on the man. Ignoring the fact that she was making up new rules instead of following the old ones, she hurried to the small cavern that was her sanctuary from the world. Her older brother always said rules were for breaking, never mind that she’d never believed him. Jezebel didn’t agree with a lot of things people said, especially the things they said about her.

Everyone in her tiny rural Appalachian community said she was demon-possessed because she rocked all the time and didn’t talk, but they were wrong. During a revival her parents had forced her to attend three years earlier, she’d silently recited the prayer that the preacher said invited Jesus into a person’s heart and drove out all the evil inside. After saying the prayer in her mind, she’d felt peace for the first time in her twelve years of life and tried to tell her family what she’d done. But the words wouldn’t come, and she’d been taken outside and whipped for trying to stop the “good Christian folk” from hearing the preacher’s message. That was another thing people were wrong about, but she had learned her lesson. Never again did she try to explain she was one of the good Christian folk now. God loved her and wanted her when no one else did, and that was all that mattered.

RELEASE DAY: Heather Gray "Jackal"

 

Blurb

Hiding in the shadows just got harder.

When tragedy strikes, Juliana and her family must flee their home. Can they persuade a virtual stranger to help them? Juliana isn't so sure, especially after their chaperone threatens to cane him. Even as Juliana struggles to trust him, she finds herself drawn to this mysterious man. Surely all she wants from him is refuge…
Rupert is a man whose life depends on his ability to remain unnoticed. What, then, is he supposed to do with this family he's inherited?  His life is overrun with an ancient chaperone who would terrify a lesser man, two spirited girls, and the secretive Juliana – someone he comes to think of as his own precious jewel.
With this new responsibility thrust upon him, Rupert will have to make sacrifices – but will God ask him to sacrifice everything?

 

About the Author:
Heather Gray is the author of the Ladies of Larkspur inspirational western romance series, including Mail Order Man, Just Dessert, and Redemption.  Other titles include Ten Million Reasons, His Saving Grace, and Nowhere for Christmas – everything from Regency England to modern-day America.  Aside from a long-standing love affair with coffee, Heather’s greatest joys are her relationships with her Savior and her family.  Years ago, Heather decided she'd rather laugh than yell.  This theme is evident in her writing where, through the highs and lows of life, her characters find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her.

 

Now available at

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Excerpt:

Prologue

1810

            A duke had been cut down in the prime of his life. According to the War Department, The Hunter was to blame.

Jackal had been put onto The Hunter's scent and told to ferret him out at all cost. It was his job, his duty to the crown, and he treated it with the seriousness it demanded. Evil could not be allowed to go unpunished, and people who took pleasure in destroying the lives of others would not walk away with impunity, not on his watch.

Jackal met with his contacts in the Austrian government and found no gratification in revealing they had a traitor in their midst. It had been a necessary move, and now the problem would be dealt with. The Austrians would put The Hunter down, and England's hands would remain clean of the mess, exactly as the minister wanted.

Grim foreboding furrowed his brow as he left the meeting with the Austrians. His lack of evidence mocked him. He'd done as ordered, and they'd believed him, but had it been his choice, he'd have gathered more proof first.

Jackal climbed into his carriage and slapped his hand against the roof, signaling the driver with his readiness to depart. A lengthy ride awaited him. He would leave the carriage and his current identity behind in Munich once he arrived there. New papers and fresh horses were waiting for him. The same would happen again when he crossed over into Stuttgart, and then again in Brussels. His task was clear: remain alive long enough to claim each of the new identities and return safely to his homeland.

Sitting back on the roughly cushioned seat, he accepted what he'd begun to suspect. This would be his last assignment for the crown. He was getting too old for the job. The time to retire was upon him. The younger bucks were willing – if not entirely ready – to take their place among the ranks of the unseen, unknown, and unnamed heroes of war. Jackal shook his head. Not too long ago, he'd been one of those young bucks. Ready for retirement at age thirty-two? The thought would be laughable in any other career. In his line of work, though, only those who retired young lived to be old and grey.

Lost in melancholy, Jackal barely noted the change from the raucous noise of a bustling merchant district to the quiet pastoral sounds that would accompany him on most of this journey. Europe was a large land with rich cities interspersed with vast emptiness dotted with small hamlets. Traveling by carriage would take weeks, but as long as he could report back that he'd done as ordered, it would be worth the time.

He settled into his seat. They were still days from their first sanctioned stop. As always, the best defense was to keep moving.

 

****

 A change in the carriage's soothing methodical movement woke Jackal from his doze and alerted him that something was amiss. Awareness coursed through his veins, pushing away the remnant of sleep. A quick glance at the curtained window told him it was late morning. They'd ridden through the night to put as much distance as possible between them and Vienna – the current hub of Austrian government.

The carriage was moving with a wildness he'd felt only one other time in his life. Dread snaked through his middle as he accepted the truth. There was no longer a driver in control of his conveyance. Jackal crouched low on the floor for balance as he prepared to throw open the door and jump. Perhaps he should have sought retirement one assignment sooner.

Before his hand could touch the door, a jarring force threw Jackal against the seat to his left, shooting pain up his arm. They'd been boarded, then, and his driver – an agent he'd worked with for years – had likely not been alive to sound the alarm. Emotion would come later. For now, Jackal needed to focus on one thing: Survival.

 

An Excerpt of Just Dessert

An Excerpt of Just Dessert

Dessert…the perfect remedy when nothing in life is going right.

What do you do when you are the sole protector of four children, your brothers and sisters?  When each day is haunted by disappointment, disillusionment and desperation?  When you believe that everyone who ever loved you, including God, has abandoned you?

You bake a pie, of course.

What do you do when you find a woman whose heart is consumed by fear?  Who does not know how to trust?  Who scoffs at your faith and throws your kindness back in your face?

You eat a pie, of course.

Excerpt:

Seventeen year old Mary Fitzgerald stepped up next to the deacon, a beautiful looking strawberry pie in her hands. Today was the day she started taking lasting steps to protect her family. Pa was passed out at home, having drunk so much there was no way he would be waking up to come to the festivities at the church today.

She had been taking care of and protecting her younger brothers and sisters, the four of them, as far back as she could remember, but her pa was getting meaner and nastier with each passing year. Her brothers were getting angrier and more volatile, too. It was important to get them all out from under Pa's thumb before her brothers were ruined for life, sentenced to turn into men like their pa.

Hoping to find a man willing to wed her and take her brothers and sisters in, too, Mary had entered herself in the dessert auction at a picnic hosted by the church. The auction was one of many events at the picnic, but it was the only one in which Mary was interested. Only eligible men were allowed to bid, and she hoped to use the auction to find a husband. How old, ugly or poor – Mary didn't care as long as he didn't beat or terrorize them. That was her highest hope, to find a man who did not cause her to cower, who did not break her bones, who would not harm her brothers and sisters. She had poured all her hopes for escape into making this pie to help her find a husband. Harboring no illusions about love, Mary didn't even really care if the man was kind; she only needed him not to be too terrible.

As the diminutive deacon with thinning grey hair was about to begin the bidding, Mary glanced up. Fear grabbed hold of her heart and squeezed so tight she thought she might faint right there. Neither the sea of curious faces nor the beautiful blue Idaho sky drew her attention. Pa was coming, and he looked madder'n a hot, hungry bull. Mary couldn't move. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps as she tried to stay conscious. She was terrified of this man. They had been so certain Pa would stay passed out all day, that he wouldn't be able to discover their plan until it was too late. The kids had all dressed in their finest clothes and promised to be on their best behavior – no small feat for the boys – and now here came Pa, ruining their chance for escape.

The deacon had not seen Mr. Fitzgerald yet and was taking a big breath in preparation to start the bidding. His mouth was still open, sucking in air, when the bellow came from the back of the crowd, "That's my young'un and ain't nobody biddin' on her pie! I ain't raisin' no harlot to get paid for her favors!"

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