RELEASE DAY: Stephy Smith "Magical Love"

Blurb:

Captured within the mind of Cleo Little by the disgraceful dark mist of Madonna, Greta Smith was taken on a wild, wicked journey she fought to escape. Greta presented the problem to the Shuvihani and Thad to vanquish the evilness of her childhood friend.

Against Thaddeus Porter’s better judgment and by the order of the clan’s witch, Thad entered the minds of the dark coven out to destroy the clan. The only way to save his people was to join forces with Greta to defeat the evilness prevailing around them. Their energy was strong, the clan’s Shuvihani was missing, and dark evil was out to steal the souls of the caravan.

Could Greta and Thad’s Magical Love be sufficient to conquer the jealousy, betrayal and dark magic to save their people?

Author:

Stephy Smith was born and raised in the Northwest Texas Panhandle. She owns and operates her own ranch. Most of her inspiration comes from the weather, wildlife, and imagination from country living. When she not spending time with her three sons, she loves to read, ride horses, watch rodeo’s and paint. Stephy is a member of Panhandle Professional Writers, American Quarter Horse Association, and Foundation Quarter Horse Association. Stephy is an award-winning author of Shining Moon Rises. You can find her books at www.barnesandnoble.com www.amazon.com www.audible.com www.smashwords.com and www.kobo.com

RELEASE DAY: Ashley Stambaugh "Torn"

Blurb:

Three months have passed and Melina thought she was safe. Safe from the effects of the angel powers and safe from the Noxin demons. But she thought too soon.

Just as she’s starting to enjoy her new powers and her new relationship with Lee, the slight pain she still experiences after using the powers starts to grow worse. As the pain becomes more and more unbearable, she finds herself lashing out at innocent people with unex-plained anger and hatred. Then to make matters worse, she sees a Noxin demon again.

No one, not even the elders, seems to know what’s happening to Melina, or how a Noxin demon found her. And when she’s introduced to Dean, another unique human like herself, she learns that his pain is completely gone, which only makes her situation even more con-fusing.

Grasping for any type of answer, Melina throws out one possible explanation after another. But as her angry feelings intensify, and her angel powers grow weaker, she begins to think there might be something malevolent inside her that’s trying to take over. It’s not long be-fore her internal struggle spirals out of control, and her body is turned into a battlefield that’s torn between good and evil.

Melina fears that if no solution is found, then she might lose all the people she loves, especially Lee. But what scares her even more is that she might lose herself to evil.

 

 

Author:

Ashley Stambaugh grew up in a small town in Illinois where she and her two siblings creat-ed some of the best memories playing on their family’s farm. She stayed in the southern re-gion of the state to attend college where she earned a Bachelor of Arts degree and also met her husband.

Now, she and her husband live in central Illinois and spend their time creating new memo-ries with their two rambunctious boys and their comical black Pug. She also enjoys reading, taking long walks, and finding great bargains. When her sons are a little bit older, she has a great desire to travel with her family. Oh, and she also has a slight obsession with chocolate.

When she’s not busy chasing after her two young children or losing herself in a good book, you can find her curled up on her couch with her laptop, writing.

 

 

 

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

 

Melina took a sip of her coffee and gazed out at the lightly falling snow. Mesmerized by its delicate beauty, she didn't even notice when someone took a seat in the chair across the table from her.

"How’d I know you'd be sitting at a window seat?" the voice mused.

Her eyes widened in excitement as she turned and smiled at the newcomer. There sat Lee, bundled up in his black wool coat, a gray and black plaid scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, his tawny hair messed about from the wind. She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, a slight blush reddening her cheeks. They had been together for almost three months now, but she still got flushed and giddy around him.

She turned back to look out the window again. "It's breathtaking, isn't it?"

Lee chuckled. "Yeah, snow's pretty to watch. But if you know you have to drive in it later, it loses some of its luster."

"That's why I walked here," Melina said as she pointed down at her tall, black snow boots.

He smiled at her. "I'm happy to see your Christmas gift is being put to good use."

"These put my old pair to shame. They're much warmer. I can go for a lot more walks now." Melina grinned then returned her gaze to the snow. "I'm trying to catch sight of my first snowflake. It's snowed six times this month already, and I still haven't seen one."

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities, seeing how it's only the third week of January and how much you love to watch snow." He let out another chuckle just as Nina, the owner of the café, showed up with his coffee.

She was a plump, older woman with short, spiky white hair and always had a smile on her face. "Good morning, Lee." She beamed at him as she set the steaming coffee mug down on the table. "I brought you your usual."

 "Thanks, Nina," he said and then took a sip of his drink.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. You two let me know if you need anything else." She gave them both a quick wave then made her way back to the front.

Lee looked back over at Melina. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late. I know you said you wanted to get out of here before the morning crowd arrived."

"It's all right," she said, shaking her head. "We still have about twenty minutes or so before the usual rush shows up."

He held her gaze, his light brown eyes full of concern.

Melina averted her eyes down to her coffee mug. She didn't want him to pick up on her anxiety, but she must've been doing a lousy job of hiding it, because she could still feel him staring at her.

"I'm okay," she said as she lifted her eyes back up to meet his. "I'm just—" Melina's voice cut off as she suddenly let out a short cry. Her hand shot up to her head as her face contorted in pain.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He jumped up from his chair and knelt down beside her.

She rubbed at her aching forehead as she struggled to speak. "Too many… people. Too many… thoughts. My head… it feels like it's… going to explode."

Lee furrowed his brows as he stood up from his knees and glanced around the room. "There aren't even ten other people in here."

A low groan escaped her. "It feels like a hundred." She continued to massage her temple when suddenly the pain intensified. "Ahh!” she screamed as she raised her other hand up to her temple. “My head feels like it's on fire now."

He quickly threw some money onto the table then slid his arm around Melina. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." He hoisted her up from her chair, and let his arm slip up underneath hers.

"It burns! It burns!" she cried as she squinted her eyes shut. "What is going on?"

"We're almost out of here. Hang on." There was a side exit a few steps away from them, and Lee led her out through the door as discreetly as he could. Melina hated not saying good-bye to Nina, but if she saw her in this state, she would become overly concerned and cause unnecessary stress.

They stepped outside and the windswept snow caused her to turn her face into Lee's shoulder. When they were several feet away from the café, she finally lifted her head and said, "I need to stop for a minute." She released her arm from around his neck but continued to lean on him.

"Okay," he said, keeping his arm wrapped snugly around her. "I'm parked just up at the end of the block. Do you think you can make it there?"

She nodded and slid her arm up around his neck again. When they had finally reached his SUV, he helped to ease her down into the passenger seat. He shut the door for her then ran around and climbed into the driver's seat.

"What happened in there?" he asked as he started the engine and turned on the heat.

 

RELEASE DAY: Stephy Smith "Why Me, Cowboy?"

 

 

Blurb:

From the first time Tansy Adam’s set eyes on Gulch her heart pounded at the sight of him. His charisma and magnetic personality drew her into his web. Then he changed into a deceitful, demonic cowboy who mystified her. Everyone kept telling her he was not who she thought he was. Who was he? The passionate gentleman whose kisses set her core on fire or the cold hearted cowboy boss that infuriated her?

 

Gulch knew he had to do whatever it took to protect the beautiful Tansy even if it meant driving her away from his life forever. He hated the way he had to treat her, but if it saved her life, he was willing to do anything to keep her from the murderous clutches of the rustler out to destroy the Grow ‘em Feed Yard. How could he expect her to forgive him when he couldn’t forgive himself?

 

Author:

Stephy Smith was born and raised in the Northwest Texas Panhandle. She owns and operates her own ranch. Most of her inspiration comes from the weather, wildlife, and imagination from country living. When she not spending time with her three sons, she loves to read, ride horses, watch rodeo’s and paint. Stephy is a member of Panhandle Professional Writers, American Quarter Horse Association, and Foundation Quarter Horse Association.

Stephy is an award-winning author of Shining Moon Rises. You can find her books at www.barnesandnoble.com www.amazon.com www.audible.com www.smashwords.com and www.kobo.com

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

“Mom, you know Mississippi will always be my home. It’s time for me to strike out on my own. Make a life for myself.” Tansy Adams hugged her mother, Eva. She wiped the tears from Eva’s face.

“I just don’t like you going all the way to Texas. That’s a long way off.” Eva’s voice cracked as she tried to talk.

“I know. I can always call and besides, it’s a great opportunity for me.” Tansy’s heart picked up a beat.

“You better get going. Jema is a bit antsy.” Eva pointed to the horse trailer hooked to the back of Tansy’s pickup. The five-year-old mare thumped her hoof on the wooden floor as if to back up Eva’s words.

Tansy slid in the driver side and pulled down the drive of the old plantation house she had lived in all her life.

After two days of travel the subtropical climate transitioned to the arid, dust-blown great plains of the northwest Texas Panhandle. Each state Tansy passed through seemed just as beautiful in its own way. She soaked it all in. Tansy and Jema rolled into the small town.

“Millstone, Texas. Population 12,356. We made it, Jema.” Tansy said out loud, even though she knew the horse couldn’t hear her. Her heart picked up a beat. Light, butterfly-type movements fluttered in her stomach.

Tansy drove straight for the Grow ‘em feed yard to meet with Benny Whipple and the cowboy boss. They met her in the parking lot.

She stretched as her feet touched the ground. An older man rushed toward her.

“Benny Whipple. You must be Tansy Adams.” The old man thrust his hand out to her. She smiled and took his pudgy hand in hers. “Get your horse and we’ll get her settled in while we talk.” Benny stood beside the trailer and waited for Tansy to unload Jema. The cowboy boss leaned casually against a nearby pipe fence with his feet crossed at the ankles.

Benny owned the feed yard. His blue eyes were clear and sparkled with a hint of amusement. Although his hair was gray, the fifty-eight year old man seemed to be in better shape than most forty year olds Tansy knew. And he was better looking than they were to boot. He had a pleasant, calm air about him that made Tansy relax.

Jema backed out of the trailer. Tansy caught the lead rope. She retrieved her tack and tossed the saddle blanket and saddle on the mare's back. Jema didn’t even flinch. Tansy folded the bridle across her elbow and followed Benny through the gate he rushed ahead to open. Jema’s ears perked up and she gazed toward a feed bunk.

“There’s your shed to keep your tack and feed in. We expect you to clean your own shed and stall. As calm as your horse is, I get the feeling you’ve put in a lot of hours horseback. It’s your responsibility to keep your tack in good working order. Here’s a lock and key for the door. We like to think no one will tamper with your equipment, but the cowboys are always up for a good, old-fashioned rodeo. They don’t mean any harm even if they instigate it themselves.”

“I know cowboys are just overgrown kids at heart. As soon as Jema, my mare, rest up from the trip, I plan on getting her accustomed to her new surroundings. If that’s ok.” Tansy unloaded her saddle and blanket from the horse's back and carried them into the shed.

Benny thumbed over his shoulder. “This here’s Gulch. He’s the cattle manager and he’s in charge of all the pen riders. If you have gripes about the cowboys, I want to hear about it. If you got questions about the job, go to him.”

RELEASE DAY: Sofia Diana Gabel "Charity's Heart"

Blurb:

1888, London- Charity Llewellyn, 19, looks forward to marrying one day, but upon learning that her intended groom is Mathias Baptiste, the immoral son of a wealthy banker, she runs away from home to avoid the betrothal. Angry at her attempt, her father appoints a handsome and mysterious man, Alexander Sutton, as her constant chaperone. Furious, Charity plots an escape with help from her friend Lillian, although that leads to involvement in an unsolved 20-year old murder and a shallow burial of human bones. As she tries to unravel the secrets of the old murder, she meets a frightening man who could be Jack the Ripper. But that’s not her only obstacle. As she and Alexander grow closer and fall in love, she learns a dark secret he’s been keeping and when Mathias finds them together, he is overcome with rage and will stop at nothing to get her back, not even murder.

 

Author:

Born in Sydney, Australia, Ms. Gabel now lives in the United States with her family. She has dabbled in several careers, including archaeology and wildlife biology, but writing is her true passion. She is a multi-genre writer and has obtained two Bachelor degrees and will get a Masters in archaeology soon. Like writing, learning is a part of her life. Her favorite quote paraphrased from Sir Francis Bacon: Knowledge is Power.

 

 

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Excerpt:

 

Chapter One

 

London, 1888

Charity’s bedroom windowpane was chilled and wet from the cold evening air, yet she could still see her faint, almost ghost-like reflection in the glass. With a twist of her long, tawny hair, she made an elegant chignon and secured it with an ivory hairpin. She sighed and wiped the water from the window with her bare hand. She’d rather be outside where the fresh air would fill her lungs and she could run free through the damp grass, but instead, she was locked inside the house like a prisoner.

Her position was to marry well and provide an heir to the Llewellyns. It was her only task: to have children. She was nineteen now and knew her father would soon insist she marry. He’d been hinting, so the day was nearing when he’d bring up the subject. But she’d never been allowed out on her own to meet potential suitors, which meant her father would find her a husband to his liking, not hers. And his idea of a husband certainly wouldn’t be the same as hers. She wanted a man who was strong, intelligent, kind, generous, and most of all, not bogged down with following social convention. The exact opposite of who would be chosen for her.

Her whole life she’d been sheltered and kept safe like a bird in a cage. She’d never experienced life, never had the opportunity to travel or even learn an occupation. Marrying a man she didn’t love would be like having her heart locked away where it could never be free.

She turned from the window and slipped on her soft-soled house shoes, the worn ones her mother had thrown out several times and Charity had retrieved from the rubbish bin every time. Just because they were worn didn’t mean they were unusable. She found them to be comfortable and would undoubtedly last for some time longer. So many people in London didn’t have shoes at all, or so she’d heard. Of course she’d never gone into London without an escort, and then it was only to the dressmaker’s or to some other well-to-do section of the city.

She looked back at her reflection again. It was a façade. It didn’t show what was in her heart. It was a cold portrayal of what everyone wanted to see. She plucked out the hairpin, gave her head a shake, and let her hair tumble loosely over her shoulders. That’s how she preferred to wear her hair, free and untamed. Now the young woman reflected in the window pane was smiling.

When the dinner bell rang, Charity dashed from her bedroom on the third floor and hurried down the stairs, purposely holding her skirt above her ankles so her shoes were visible, and walked along the hand-woven Persian carpet leading to the dining room. As expected, her mother was waiting at the doorway of the dining room.

“Oh, heavens, Charity. Not those ugly old shoes again. How many times have I had Flora put them out with the rubbish?” Her mother folded her arms across her chest. “You do these things to annoy me.”

Charity dropped her skirt. “I like these shoes. If you throw them out again, I shall go around in stocking feet. These shoes are perfectly good.” Charity passed into the dining room without giving her mother the required kiss on the cheek, the kiss that said she was a dutiful daughter who would obey her mother no matter what.

“Incorrigible,” her mother muttered, stepping into the dining room herself.

Charity took her seat next to her father, who was already sitting stiffly at the head of the table, open newspaper in hand. He didn’t look up. His throne-like Indian rosewood chair had a procession of small elephants carved along the top of the backrest. When she was young, she used to dream of where the elephants were going, each one holding the other’s tail in its trunk, forming a chain of beasts heading off the edge of the backrest. She’d wonder if they were going into the hot and sticky jungles of the Indian continent or perhaps to a river where they’d drink the sweet, cool water. Imagining their adventures captivated her at the time. But now she saw those elephants for what they were: wooden, immovable prisoners trapped on the back of a chair, unable to escape to freedom. She was just like them, stuck in one place with no chance of getting away.

RELEASE DAY: Lindsay Downs "A Bluestocking's Christmas"

 

Blurb:

Lady Brittany Sexton loves her newest book on Africa but she quickly learns keeping it in her possession is difficult. For her, the problem lies with Lord Samuel Palmer, who believes ladies should not read inappropriate tomes. Part of Lord Palmer’s fascination is the cryptic messages found in the margins. What quickly develops between Lady Brittany and Lord Palmer is even more confusing.

As Christmas draws nearer and with the book still in her possession, Lord Palmer follows her to her parents country estate.  It’s there they, along with some friends, slowly make sense of the notes.

During all of this, Lady Brittany learns a fact about Lord Palmer that disturbs her greatly—why he desired the book. To clear her mind and think about her answer to Lord Palmer’s sudden proposal, she goes for a horseback ride, only for disaster to strike.

Once well, she returns home. Lady Brittany now has to make a life changing decision. Can she… will she marry Lord Palmer ?

 

 

Author:

What does it take to be a bestselling author? Determination, skill, talent, luck or taking a risk with a venture into a totally new genre. For me it was a little of some and a lot of the others.

In 2008 when I got two books published I thought it was due to skill; little did I know it was more luck than anything. Over the next three years I wrote, submitted, got rejected. I then did what I tell everyone who asks; I wrote some more. I didn’t give up.

More on a dare than anything I tried my hand at a regency, one of the most difficult genres because of the rules, which I might add I broke almost every one. Within two days of its release the book was on a best seller list and stayed there for two months.

Turns out it is all of the aforementioned.

After two failed marriages, one from divorce while with the other died unexpectedly I decided upon retirement to move. That opportunity came in September 2012 when I migrated to Texas.

For me, as a multipublished author, it was one of the best things I’ve done to date. Now, every day I can write, creating stories to take my readers to places they can only dream about.

I’m also a member of the Published Authors Network (PAN) by the Romance Writers of America (RWA).

 

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

 

Chapter One

 

Bundled against the unseasonably cold wind that wipped up the loose snow around her feet, Lady Brittany Sexton marched down the street, closing on her destination—her favourite lending library. Following and trying to keep up her lady’s maid, Aggie, mumbled to herself.

“Oh, stop with the complaining,” Brittany called out.

“I wonder why you insisted on venturing out on such a horrid day?”

“Mr. Winterbottom sent me a note saying the new book on Africa arrived today. If I want to be the first I should hurry down as several others enquired on it,” she told her maid after slowing her forward march so she wouldn’t need to speak so loudly.

“The one written by that horrid Lord Hersey you heard speak a few years back?”

Brittany nodded as a gust of wind whipped up, taking her breath away.

As they progressed down Braxton Street, she kept her head down while drawing her pelisse closer about her. With the chill, Brittany started to wonder if being the first to read this tome was worth the effort. Then she remembered the comment from that horrid Lord Samuel Palmer, the previous evening, at one of several balls her parents had insisted she attend.

At one point during that terrible event which had bored her close to tears, as she preferred to be home reading of far off lands, Lord Palmer had pointedly told several gentleman within earshot that ladies should be seen and not heard.

“All they can talk about is the weather or which colours will be fashionable during the spring season. All we gentlemen need do is look outside to see if it’s raining or the sun is shining,” Brittany had heard him say to the approval of several other gentlemen, if she could even call them that for their attitude.

It had taken all her willpower not to put aside the book she’d secreted with her and tell him he was full of hot air. She later learned from her bosom bow, Miss Sally Crocker, this appeared to be his typical attitude toward the current ladies in search of husbands.

“Lord Palmer will be lucky if some on-the-shelf lady might consent to marry him considering his arrogance. Doesn’t he realize we, at least a few of us such as you and I, have brains? We can and are willing to discuss topics of interest to him,” she had told her friend.

Brittany was so focused on the events of last eve, in particular that one pompous gentleman, she barely heard Aggie call out to her.

“M’ lady, you marched right past the lending library. Is everything all right?”

She halted and glanced around, only to feel her face warm from embarrassment at having lost track of where she was.

“Um, yes. I was pondering about last night and this gentleman who didn’t think we ladies should think. Now, let’s collect the book on Africa and peruse what else Mr. Winterbottom might have of interest,” Brittany said as she turned back and climbed the brick steps leading to an oak door with glass set in its upper half.

The gentle tinkling of the bell over the door brought a smile to her lips as the purveyor glanced toward her.

“My dear Lady Brittany, it’s always wonderful when you visit my humble establishment. It’s also a good thing you were the first to alert me that you wished to read Lord Hersey’s book, as several gentlemen have expressed an interest in it.”

Somehow that titbit of news didn’t come as much of a shock, as he was supposed to be the authority on deepest, darkest Africa. She wondered what the men would say on learning she’d been able to obtain the copy before any of them. With this book Brittany would have the most extensive collection on the subject, which pleased her. Now she would be able to compose a compilation which would make referencing different areas of Africa easy for future explorers.

 

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.

 

 

Now available on
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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: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy "Gray's Good Samaritan"

Blurb:

On an ordinary Saturday morning, Robin Cavanaugh’s life takes a wild turn.  A wounded man leaps into her car at a traffic light.  He refuses to go to the hospital and after he reveals his real name, she realizes she knows him from church.  When he swears he’s one of the good guys, Robin abandons common sense to help him.  As his condition worsens, she soon learns he’s not really Spike Mc Gee, a criminal but an undercover agent whose life is in danger.  His brother, Jack, a doctor, pulls Gray through and soon, Robin is part of the action too.  Their love grows under the unlikely conditions and when Gray heads home to visit his mother, Robin comes too.  While there, Gray proposes and she accepts but a family tragedy brings them back to Tulsa.  Everything hangs in the balance as Gray goes undercover as Spike on last time…if he survives, they can find their happily ever after.

 

Author:

Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy is a native of historic St. Joseph, Missouri and now makes her home in the beautiful Ozark Mountains.  As a wife and mother to three children, she spends her days penning her stories, substitute teaching, gardening, cooking, and all the other daily duties.  She has a BA degree in English and History from Missouri Southern State University and an AA degree from Crowder College.  She has worked in broadcasting, education, and retail. Lee Ann is a member of Romance Writers of America, Missouri Writers Guild, and the Ozark Writers League.  Her multiple works include full length nov-els, novellas, and short stories.  Lee Ann has also contributed to more than two dozen an-thologies including the popular Chicken Soup For The Soul series.  She writes a weekly col-umn for the local newspaper and writes several romance genres and subgenres.

 

 

Now available on
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Excerpt:

Chapter One

On a morning as ordinary as faded blue jeans, no different from dozens of other Saturdays, everything changed. As she slowed for a traffic signal behind a long string of vehicles, Robin spotted the man. Whoever he was, he ran at furious speed, racing across the open spaces between the electric substations as if his life might be in peril. Robin couldn’t imagine anything else powerful enough to inspire anyone to run so fast, so hard. Curious, she kept an eye on him to see where he went as she came to a stop at the highway interchange. Already ten minutes late for her hair appointment, midway through her weekly errands, she craned her head backward and over the dirty laundry stacked in the back seat. Just as the light went green, the runner changed course. His diagonal path would take him in front of her car so she hesitated, a car length behind the other vehicles, afraid she might hit him. At the last moment, he veered, switched course, and snatched open the passenger door. He climbed inside before she could scream or protest and spat out two words: “Hit it!”

Robin froze, uncertain what to do until the truck behind her blared its horn. After a brief hesitation, she drove forward, heart beating with a rock-and-roll rhythm. Every bone in her law-abiding body screamed to stop. Her passenger’s face shimmered with perspiration and his eyes glittered with pain. Although he had been running hard, he gasped for breath as if he had been hurt. When she sneaked a closer glance, she noticed blood dripping in staccato rhythm from beneath his leather jacket. “Hey, you’re hurt,” she said, shocked. In her comfortable world, people didn’t run or bleed from anything but a minor mishap. “What happened?”

“I got shot,” he said. Each word required a harsh-drawn breath. “Just drive, okay?”

“Shot?” she echoed. Maybe she had heard him wrong. “You were shot?”

He shot her a look from half-closed eyes and she noticed how pale he had become. “Yeah.”

Robin clamped her fingers tighter around the steering wheel as she stiffened. Whatever trouble he’d found, it wasn’t hers but she couldn’t abandon him on the side of the road either. She made a sudden, swift decision.

“I can take you to the hospital,” she said. “I’m sorry, but that’s it. Just hang on and we’ll get there as soon as I figure out if we’re closer to Hillcrest, OSU, or St. Francis.”

He’d closed his eyes, shuttered tight against the pain, but at her suggestion, he opened them and glared at her. “No hospital,” he choked. “Can’t. They report gunshot wounds.”

Disbelief cut through her anxiety so that she spoke without thinking. “Are you telling me you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?” He needed immediate medical attention. Those drops of blood she had noticed had become a stream flowing down the seat and puddling onto the floorboard. “You need to get help — you’re bleeding all over the place.”

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “I know, but I can’t go to the hospital. The law requires them to report any gunshot wounds. If they do, I’m a dead man. Can you drive any faster? I don’t think they saw what car I got into but they might have. If so, we’re both in trouble.”

He appeared about to collapse but he’d managed to speak up. And what he said scared her. “Who might’ve seen you?” Robin asked, afraid to hear the answer. The way he had been running, she figured it must have been the police, drug dealers, a gang, or maybe organized crime.

Her passenger slumped down in the seat. “I think maybe the cops did.”

Robin almost slammed on the brakes and her attention strayed from the road. She faced him and got a good look for the first time. He wore black leather pants, a leather jacket, and a black T-shirt. On his hands, he wore leather half-gloves and studded bracelets encircled both wrists. Although his hair was close-cropped in front, he had let it grow out in back. After his crazy run, his hair had wilted but she would bet he had had it spiked with gel before. Robin couldn’t determine if his style screamed biker, punk, Goth, or gang, but whatever his fashion statement might be, it stretched far outside her comfort zone. He had to be a criminal and she struggled to stay calm. Who knew what he might do if she provoked him?