Carries Book Reviews

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Every Bit a Cowboy
Jennie Marts
(Creedence Horse Rescue, #5)
Publication date: March 7th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

“Filled with humor, heart and real love.” —Michelle Major, USA Today bestselling author

USA Today bestselling author Jennie Marts proves there’s nothing quite like a cowboy.

No matter how swoony the cute cowboy is, romance is the last thing on Carley Chapman’s mind. But it’s hard to ignore Knox Garrison and the spark of attraction she feels every time he’s near. When a water line break floods her building, she’s forced to move her salon out to the Heaven Can Wait Horse Rescue ranch, and Knox shows up to help. But things get even more complicated when Carley’s no-good ex comes sniffing around and Knox “fixes” the problem by telling him they’re engaged…

Praise for Jennie Marts’s cowboy romances:

“Funny, complicated, and irresistible. Sometimes a cowboy isn’t perfect but you got to love him anyway.”—JODI THOMAS, New York Times bestselling author, for Caught Up in a Cowboy

“Full of hope, humor, and undeniable swoon.”—A.J. PINE, USA Today bestselling author, for How to Cowboy

“Deliciously steamy but still sweet, with a secret at its heart.”—JOANNE KENNEDY, award-winning author, for Wish Upon a Cowboy

 

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EXCERPT:

Carley gestured to the kitchen island where she’d set out mini quiches, fruit, yogurt, and a mimosa bar. “Before we get started, you all make yourselves some plates. And I’ve orange juice and champagne if you all want mimosas.”

“I’m down for that,” the third bridesmaid, who Carley didn’t recognize, said, as she strode into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of alcohol. Already gorgeous, with her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, she wore a bright teal Western-cut shirt, jeans tucked into tall, embroidered cowboy boots, and a rhinestone-studded belt held together by a large, shiny rodeo

championship buckle. “I may not be able to make fancy invitations or frost a million cupcakes, but I make a mean mimosa that will either land you on your butt or in the lap of a hot cowboy, and I’m making one for all of you.”

Chloe nudged Carley. “That’s Stacey, Colt’s cousin. She’s a barrel racer, and the rumors you’ve heard about them are true.”

“But you love me anyway,” Stacey said then let out a whoop as she popped the champagne cork.

“Yes, we do,” Chloe agreed, laughing with her. “But I’ve already got my cowboy, and the last thing I need is to land on my tush at the wedding tonight, so make mine light on the champagne.”

Carley laughed, even as she couldn’t help thinking about how she wished all it would take was a mean mimosa to land her in a certain hot cowboy’s lap. “I want you all to have a good time this morning. I’ll do Quinn’s and Tessa’s hair first, then work on the bride’s, and then finish with Stacey’s.”

“Perfect,” Chloe said, accepting one of the mimosas Stacey was handing around.

“Here’s to the bride,” Stacey called out, holding up the last glass. “Now, let’s get this party started.”

An hour later, Carley was just starting on Chloe’s hair when the front door opened, and Knox walked in. He held up two boxes of Twinkies. “Who needs a little sugar?”

“Oh my word,” Stacey squealed as she bolted off the sofa and charged towards him. “Chloe, you little devil. You got us a stripper.” She circled around Knox looking him up and down as she went. “And da-amn, is he ever a good-looking one.” She gestured to his service weapon. “Hey handsome, are you going to show us your big gun? Is it already cocked?”

“What? No…I mean…this is a real gun,” Knox sputtered, putting his hand protectively over his holster.

“I’m sure it is, baby,” Stacey crooned, leaning forward and giving him a little shimmy. “How much extra for a lap dance? Because I’ve got an hour still to get my hair real mussed up, and I’ve got money to burn.”

“Stacey. Stop it,” Chloe said. “He’s not a stripper.”

“Good try,” Stacey said. “Look at those muscles. I know a stripper when I see one.” She gave Knox the “Matrix come forward” gesture with her fingers. “Come on, baby, show us what you got.”

Knox looked at Carley, as if hoping she’d save him. She’d never seen the deputy so tongue-tied, but he seemed completely flummoxed as he held up the cardboard boxes. “I just brought some Twinkies.”

“We know. And we want to see ’em.” Stacey hooted then let out a long wolf-whistle.

“Listen now,” Knox tried again. “I’m a deputy sheriff, and this is my official uniform.”

“Great,” Stacey said. “Now take it off. Then can I touch your gun?”

“What did I tell you?” Chloe said, shaking her head. “Barrel racers. You can’t take ‘em anywhere.”

“Sorry ladies,” Carley heard herself say as she stepped around Chloe and in front of Knox. “This one’s mine.”

Mine? Since when did she consider this man hers? Apparently as soon as some hot barrel-racer started flirting with him.

Knox stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her waist. Either her declaration or the steadiness of his hand holding her hip must have given him some of his composure back because his voice changed back to his normal charming tone. “Yep, that’s right. I belong to this one. Sorry ladies. Carley’s the only one I’m stripping for.” He grinned down at her. “Too much?” he asked quietly, before turning back to Stacey. “And she’s the only one who gets to touch my gun.”

Carley barked out a laugh then covered her mouth. “I knew I shouldn’t have had a mimosa.”

“I haven’t had nearly enough,” Stacey said, heading toward the kitchen. “I’m making another round. You in for one, Mr. Official Deputy Sheriff?”

Knox shook his head. “No thanks. I just stopped by to bring you all some snacks and to offer to help.”

Carley’s heart melted a little. “Aww. That’s so nice of you.”

“I was worried you would be having a rough time being out of your normal element and thought maybe I could do something. You already know my skills at washing hair. Do you need me to shampoo anyone?”

“No thanks,” Carley said. “I appreciate the offer, but updos work best when you start with dirty hair.”

“I’ve got dirty hair,” Stacey piped up. “In fact, I’m real dirty. So, you can shampoo all of me.”

“Stacey, seriously dude, you have to stop,” Chloe scolded. “Knox is Carley’s fiancé. He is not a stripper.”

“What?” Aunt Sassy asked from behind them as she pushed through the door of the bunkhouse. “You all got a stripper? I didn’t know you were getting a stripper. I would’ve skipped my dentist appointment entirely and come straight here if I’d known. Did he start yet?” She snapped open her handbag. “I know I have some cash in here. Do I need one-dollar bills, or do you think he can make change?”

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Stacey. “See what you started?” Then she called out to the other woman. “Sorry, Aunt Sassy, there is no stripper.”

“Dang,” she said, snapping closed her purse. “Is it too late to get one?”

 

Author Bio:

Jennie Marts is the USA TODAY Best-selling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily ever after. Readers call her books “laugh out loud” funny and the “perfect mix of romance, humor, and steam.” Fic Central claimed one of her books was “the most fun I’ve had reading in years.”

She is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet that loves to tweet to the oldies. She’s addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes, or friends.

Her books include the contemporary western romance Hearts of Montana series, the romantic comedy/ cozy mysteries of The Page Turners series, the hunky hockey-playing men in

the Bannister family in the Bannister Brothers Books, and the small-town romantic comedies in the Lovestruck series of Cotton Creek Romances.

Jennie loves to hear from readers. Follow her on Facebook at Jennie Marts Books, or Twitter at @JennieMarts. Visit her at http://www.jenniemarts.com and sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest news and releases.

 

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Title: The Sister Effect

Author: Susan Mallery

Publisher: HQN Books

Publication Date: March 7, 2023

Page Count: 428

My rating: 5 stars

About the book:

Susan Mallery’s newest hardcover is an emotional, witty, and heartfelt story of Finley who is raising her niece because her long-addicted sister, Sloane, abandoned her. When Sloane reappears, eager to build a relationship with her daughter, Finley will struggle with forgiveness, the ties that bind a family together, and the fragility of trust.

Finley McGowan is determined that the niece she’s raising will always feel loved and wanted. Unlike she felt after her mom left to pursue a dream of stardom and her grandfather abandoned her and her sister Sloane when they needed him most. Finley reacted to her chaotic childhood by walking the straight and narrow—nose down, work hard, follow the rules.

Sloane went the other way.

Now Sloane is back, as beautiful and damaged as ever, and wants a relationship with her daughter. She says she’s changed, but Finley’s heart has been bruised once too often for her to trust easily. With the help of a man who knows all too well how messy families can be, Finley will learn there’s joy in surrendering and peace in letting go.

Mallery, with wisdom, compassion and her trademark humor, explores the nuances of a broken family’s complex emotions as they strive to become whole, in this uplifting story of human frailty and resilience.

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon  /  BookShop.org /  Barnes & Noble / Books A Million

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Finley McGowan loved her niece Aubrey with all her heart, but there was no avoiding the truth—Aubrey had not been born with tap dance talent. While the other eight-year-olds moved in perfect rhythm, Aubrey was just a half beat behind. Every time. Like a sharp, staccato echo as the song “Counting Stars” by OneRepublic played over the dance studio’s sound system.

Finley felt a few of the moms glance at her, as if gauging her reaction to Aubrey’s performance, but Finley only smiled and nodded along, filled with a fierce pride that Aubrey danced with enthusiasm and joy. If tap was going to be her life, then the rhythm thing would matter more, but Aubrey was still a kid and trying new things. So she wasn’t great at dance, or archery, or swimming—she was a sweet girl who had a big heart and a positive outlook on life. That was enough of a win for Finley. She could survive the jarring half-beat echo until her niece moved on to another activity.

The song ended and the adults gathered for the monthly update performance clapped. Aubrey rushed toward her aunt, arms outstretched for a big hug. Finley caught her and pulled her close.

“Excellent performance,” she said, smoothing the top of her head. “You weren’t nervous.”

“I know. I don’t get scared anymore. I really liked the song and the routine was fun to learn. Thank you for helping me practice.”

“Anytime.”

When Aubrey had first wanted to study tap, Finley had gone online to find instructions to build a small, homemade tap floor. They’d put it out in the garage, and hooked up a Bluetooth speaker. Every afternoon, before dinner, Finley had played “Counting Stars” and called out the steps so Aubrey could memorize her routine. Next week the dance students would get a new routine and new song, and the process would start all over again. Finley really hoped the new music wouldn’t be annoying—given that she was going to have to listen to it three or four hundred times over the next few weeks.

They walked to the cubbies, where Aubrey pulled a sweatshirt over her leotard, then traded tap shoes for rain boots. April in the Pacific Northwest meant gray, wet skies and cool temperatures. Finley made sure her niece had her backpack from school, then waved goodbye to the instructor before ushering Aubrey to her Subaru.

While her niece settled in the passenger side back seat, Finley put the backpack within arm’s reach. Inevitably, despite the short drive home, Aubrey would remember something she had to share and would go scrambling for it. Finley didn’t want a repeat of the time her niece had unfastened her seat belt and gone shimmying into the cargo area to dig out her perfect spelling test. Going sixty miles an hour down the freeway with an eight-year-old as a potential projectile had aged Finley twenty years.

“We got our history project,” Aubrey announced as Finley started the car. “We’re going to be working in teams to make a diorama of a local Native American tribe. There’s four of us in our group.” She paused dramatically. “Including Zoe!”

“Zoe red hair or Zoe black hair?”

Aubrey laughed. “Zoe black hair. If it had been Zoe red hair, my life would have been ruined forever.”

“Over a diorama? Shouldn’t your life be ruined over running out of ice cream or a rip in your favorite jacket?”

“Dioramas are important.” She paused. “And hard to spell. We’re going to pick our tribe tomorrow, then research them and decide on the diorama. I want to do totem poles. The different animals tell a story and I think that would be nice. Oliver wants a bear attacking a village, but Zoe is vegetarian and doesn’t want to see any blood.” Aubrey wrinkled her nose. “I eat meat and I wouldn’t want to see blood either. Harry agrees with me on the totems, but Zoe isn’t sure.”

“So much going on,” Finley said, not sure she could keep up with the third-grade diorama drama.

“I know. Could we stop at the cake store on the way home? For Grandma? She’s been sad.” Aubrey leaned forward as far as her seat belt would let her. “I don’t understand, though. I thought being on Broadway was a good thing.”

“It is.”

“So Grandma was a good teacher for her student. Why isn’t she happy?”

Finley wondered how to distill the emotional complexity that was her mother in a few easy-to-understand concepts. No way she was getting into the fact that her mother had once wanted to be on Broadway herself, only to end up broke and the mother of two little girls. The best Molly had managed for her theater career was a few minor roles in traveling companies. Eventually motherhood and the need to be practical had whittled away her dream until it was only a distant memory. These days she taught theater at the local community college and gave intensive acting classes in her basement. It was the latter that had been the cause of her current depression.

“Her student wasn’t grateful for all Grandma did for her. When she got the big role, she didn’t call or text and she didn’t say thank you for all of Grandma’s hard work.”

Molly had not only found her student a place to stay, she’d worked her contacts to get the audition in the first place. Finley might not understand the drive to stand in front of an audience, pretending to be someone else, but if it was your thing, then at least act human when someone gave you a break.

Finley glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Aubrey’s eyes widen.

“You’re always supposed to say thank you.”

“I know.”

“Poor Grandma. We have to buy her cake. The little one with the sprinkles she likes.”

Finley held in a grin. “And maybe a chocolate one for you and me to share?”

“Oh, that would be very nice, but we could just get one for Grandma if you think that’s better.”

Finley was sure that Aubrey almost meant those last words. At least in the moment. Should she follow through and not buy a second small cake, her niece would be crushed. Brave, but crushed.

Nothing Bundt Cakes wasn’t on the way home, but it wasn’t that far out of the way. Finley headed along Bothell-Everett Highway until she reached Central Market, across from the library. She turned left and parked in front of the bakery. She and Aubrey walked inside.

Her niece rushed to the display. “Look, they have the confetti ones Grandma likes. They’re so pretty.”

The clerk smiled. “Can I help you?”

“A couple of the little cakes,” Finley told her. “A confetti and a chocolate, please.”

Aubrey shot her a grateful look, then tapped on the case. “Could we get a vanilla one? I see Mom on Saturday afternoon. I could take her a cake.”

The unpleasant reminder of Aubrey’s upcoming visitation had Finley clenching her jaw. She consciously relaxed as she said, “It’s only Wednesday. I don’t know if the cake will still be fresh.”

“Just keep it in the refrigerator,” the clerk told her. “They’re good for five days after purchase.”

Aubrey jumped in place, her enthusiasm making her clap loudly. “That’s enough time.” She counted off the days. “Thursday, Friday, Saturday. That’s only three days. Mom will love her little cake so much.” She pressed her hands together. “Vanilla is her favorite.”

Finley told herself that of course Aubrey cared about her mother. Most kids loved their parents, regardless of how irresponsible those parents might be. It was a biological thing. Sloane was doing better these days. Maybe this time she would stay sober and out of prison. Something Finley could wish for, but didn’t actual believe.

Finley nodded at the clerk. “We’ll take all three, please.”

Aubrey rushed toward her and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Thank you, Finley. For the cake and coming to my performance and helping me practice.”

“I seem to be stuck loving you, kid. I try not to, but you’re just so adorable. I can’t help myself.”

Aubrey laughed, looking up at her. Finley ignored how much her niece looked like Sloane—they had the same big blue eyes and full mouth, the same long curly hair. Aubrey was a pretty girl but like her mother, she would mature into a stunning woman one day, as had her grandmother Molly before her. Only Finley was ordinary—a simple seagull in a flock of exotic parrots.

Probably for the best, she told herself as she paid for the cakes. In her experience beautiful women were easily distracted by the attention they received. Little mattered more than adulation. Relationships were ignored or lost or damaged, a casualty of the greatness that was the beautiful woman. Finley, on the other hand, could totally focus on what was important—like raising her niece and making sure no one threatened her safety. Not even her own mother.

*

“What is it?” Jericho Ford stared at the picture on the tablet screen. The swirling tubes of metal twisted together in some kind of shape, but he had no idea what it was.

“The artist describes this creation as the manifestation of his idea of happiness,” Antonio offered helpfully.

“It looks like a warthog.”

“It’s art.”

“So a fancy warthog.”

“It’s on sale.”

“I don’t care if it’s left on the side of the road with a sign reading ‘free.’ It’s ugly and no.” Jericho looked at his friend. “Why would you show that to me?”

“You said you needed some pieces for your family room.”

“I meant a sofa and maybe a bigger television.”

“You could put this on the coffee table.”

“That’s where I put my beer and popcorn.” Jericho pointed to the tablet. “If you like it so much, you get it.”

Antonio’s brows rose. “Absolutely not. My house is all about midcentury modern these days.”

“The warthog isn’t midcentury enough?”

“No.” Antonio slapped the tablet closed and put it in his backpack before removing two gray subway tiles and setting them on Jericho’s desk. “I want to make a change in the kitchen backsplash for number eleven.”

Antonio pointed to the tile on the right. “This was the original choice. I like the shine and the texture, but I’ve been thinking it’s too blue.” He tapped the tile on the right. “This has more green and goes better with the darker cabinets in the island.”

Jericho loved his job. He built houses in the Seattle area, good-quality houses with high-end finishes and smart designs. They sourced local when possible, had a great reputation and frequently a waiting list for their new-construction builds. Castwell Park—the five-plus acres he’d bought in Kirkland, Washington—had been subdivided into twenty oversized lots where Ford Construction was in the process of building luxury houses.

Jericho enjoyed the entire building process—from clearing the land to handing over the keys to the new owners. While he’d rather be doing something physical with his days, he was the site manager and owner, and all decisions flowed through him. Including tile changes suggested by his best friend and the project’s interior designer.

“Those tiles are the same color,” Jericho said flatly.

Antonio grimaced. “They’re not. This one—”

“Has more blue. Yes, you said.”

He grabbed the tiles and walked out of the large construction trailer set up across the street from the entrance to Castwell Park. He’d made a deal with the owners of the empty lot to rent the space while construction was underway. When his crew finished the twentieth home, he was going to build one for the lot’s owner. Jericho didn’t, as a rule, build one-offs, but it had been the price of getting a perfect location for the construction trailer, so he’d made an exception.

Once out in the natural light, he rocked the two tiles back and forth, looking for a color difference. Okay, sure, one was a little bluer, but he doubted five people in a hundred would notice. Still, Antonio’s design ideas were a big reason for the company’s success. He had a way of taking a hot trend and making it timeless.

“Email me the change authorization and I’ll okay it,” Jericho said, handing back the tiles.

“I knew you’d agree. These will make all the difference.”

“No more changes on house eleven or twelve,” he said, leading the way back inside the trailer. “The designs are locked in and we’ve placed all our orders.”

“I know. This is the last one.” Antonio smiled. “Besides, I’ve already checked with the distributor and she said it was no problem to substitute one for the other.” He settled in the chair by Jericho’s desk. “Dennis and I were talking about you last night.”

“That never means good things for me.”

Antonio dismissed the comment with a wave. “We’re inviting a woman to our next party.”

Jericho knew exactly what his friend meant but decided to pretend he didn’t. “You usually have women at your parties.”

“A woman for you.”

“No.”

Antonio leaned toward him. “It’s time. You and Lauren split up nearly seven months ago. I know you’re still pissed at your brother, but that’s separate from getting over your ex-wife. They cheated, they’re hideous people and we hate them, but it’s time for you to move on.”

Antonio had always had a gift for the quick recap, Jericho thought, appreciating his ability to distill the shock of finding out his wife and his younger brother were having an affair and the subsequent divorce into a single sentence.

“I’ve moved on,” Jericho told him.

“You’re not dating. Worse, you’re not picking up women in bars and sleeping with them.”

Jericho grinned. “When have I ever done that?”

“You’re a straight guy. Isn’t it a thing?”

“I hate it when you generalize about me because I’m straight.”

Antonio grinned. “Poor you.” His humor faded. “It’s time to stop pouting and move on with your life.”

“Hey, I don’t pout.”

“Fine, call it whatever you want. Lauren was a total bitch and I honestly don’t have words to describe what a shit Gil is for doing what he did. But you’re divorced, you claim to have moved on, so let’s see a little proof.” His mouth turned down. “I worry about you.”

“Thanks. I’m okay.”

Mostly. He hadn’t seen his brother in six months, which had made the holidays awkward. His family was small—just his mom, him and his brother, with Antonio as an adopted member. Gil’s affair with Lauren had rocked their family dynamics nearly as much as his father’s death eight years ago, shattering their small world. Their mother had taken Jericho’s side—at least at first. Lately she’d been making noises about a reconciliation. As Gil and Lauren were still a thing, he wasn’t ready to pull that particular trigger just yet.

“Dennis is a really good matchmaker,” Antonio murmured.

“Did I say no? I’m kind of sure I said no. I can get my own women.”

“Yes, but you won’t.”

“Now who’s pouting?”

The first five notes of “La Cucaracha” played outside, announcing the arrival of the food truck. Antonio’s face brightened.

“Lunchtime. You’re buying.”

“Somehow I’m always buying.”

“You’re the rich developer. I’m a struggling artist. It’s only fair.”

“You have a successful design business. And if that wasn’t enough, your husband is a partner at a fancy, high-priced law firm. You married money.”

Antonio laughed. “Wasn’t that smart of me?”

Jericho followed him out of the trailer. “You would have married him if he was broke and homeless. You love him.”

“I do and now we need to find someone for you to love. Not another redhead. That last one was a total disaster.”

“I’m not sure the failure of our marriage had anything to do with the color of her hair.”

“Maybe not, but why take the chance?”

Excerpted from The Sister Effect  by Susan Mallery, Copyright © 2023 by Susan Mallery, Inc.. Published by Canary Street Press.

The Sister Effect by Susan Mallery is a women’s fiction title that does have a bit of romance but a whole lot more of family relationships, healing and forgiveness. The tough topics of alcoholism, infidelity and abandonment are at the forefront of the story.

Finley McGowan has done her best to clean up the mess her sister Sloane had left behind when her alcoholism hit rock bottom. This included Finley taking in her neice, Aubrey, and giving her a loving home when Sloane showed up with her in a drunken haze and admitted she couldn’t take care of her.

A year has passed since that horrible time with Finley getting back into the house flipping business she loves and Sloane staying sober visiting her daughter more and more. Finley can’t help but worry though and finds a friend in her boss who knows better than most just how impossible navigating family matters can be.

The Sister Effect is not the first book by Susan Mallery that I have read and it certainly won’t be the last. Each time I see a new book coming out I get excited to dive into them as I know I will be caught up in the story right away and The Sister Effect was no exception. The complex layers of the families involved kept my interest at a peak wondering how everything would work out and I couldn’t help but feel for the characters as they rode the emotional roller coaster and I went along for the ride. Another great story that I couldn’t put down until the very end!

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

About the author:

SUSAN MALLERY is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship and romance. Library Journal says, “Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations,” and readers seem to agree—forty million copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her warm, humorous stories make the world a happier place to live.

Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She’s passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the Ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as Mom.

Author Website / Twitter / Facebook / Instagram

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Shadows of Nightshade
Lyla Oweds
(The Garden of Eternal Flowers, #1)
Publication date: March 8th 2023
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult

I dream of a time where I was warm, safe, and loved.

But my waking reality is starkly different.

Anxiety plagues me and spirits haunt the shadows. No matter how fast I run, I can’t seem to escape my past.

The only solace and steady force in my life is my best friend, Finn.

And now… there’s a ghost haunting me. And I’m not certain if it wants help or if it wants to kill me. There’s only one person who can understand: Finn’s brother, Damen.

However, in reaching out, I’m betraying Finn and setting things into motion that cannot be undone.

But nobody ever said that doing the right thing was easy.

—

The Garden of Eternal Flowers is a re-envisioning of my Grimm Cases series. Eternal Flowers has taken my original vision of Bianca’s story and transformed it into something new and beautiful. Some chapters are similar, and some dialogue is the same, as The Grimm Cases, Origins, but overall, about 75% of the book has been entirely revisioned with new plot points, mystery, and interpersonal relationships. Also, unlike Origins (originally a Wattpad release), there is now a clear beginning, climax, and conclusion in each individual novel, which allows them to be read alone or as part of the ongoing series.

I hope that you will enjoy Shadows of Nightshade as much as I enjoyed writing it. Truly, it is an honor to write about Bianca and her boys, and all of these characters are near and dear to my heart.

Trigger Warning: This series deals with the aftermath of severe childhood trauma.

 

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EXCERPT:

I wasn’t sure why he thought he deserved any special rights to my time, but it was obvious that he believed he could do whatever he wanted. How did he become so arrogant?

I opened my mouth to respond—which would probably have ended with me embarrassing myself—but nothing escaped. I stared at him, my heart racing, as I stood speechless. Then laughter—close enough for me to pick up—drifted over from the next row.

The sound shattered the enchantment cast over me—how could I have forgotten our position—and my face burst with heat. How would this scene appear to anyone passing by?

Damen’s eyes glinted mischievously. He must have had the same realization.

“Let me go,” I hissed. But my whispered venom only encouraged him, and he smiled. My traitorous heart began to beat faster. “Someone might see us!”

“Really?” His grin grew wider. This was the expression he’d had when we first met. “Then it’s fine if we don’t get caught? Consider it noted.”

“No!” I was internally screaming, even though my words were a weak protest. “You can’t play around with students anyway.” Not that it mattered there’d be no games between us—ever. “You’re basically a professor.”

“Ah.” He ran his finger down my cheek and I shivered. “But you’re not my student. I can’t help it.” His lips dipped slightly, and he tilted his head as his gaze continued to hold mine. “You’ve taken root in my mind.”

How idiotic. I would bet my shoes that he said that to everyone.

“Why are you so annoying?” I gritted out. Plus, what even was that line? It sounded like something from a cheesy romance novel. I’d be shocked if that ever worked for him in the past.

Finn’s stupid, horny brother. He could go flirt with someone else. I didn’t even remember why I wanted his help anymore, because no matter how much I wanted to lean into his touch or melt under his scorching gaze, I wanted to poke him in the eyes that much more.

What a quandary.

 

Author Bio:

Lyla Oweds is a paranormal / urban fantasy author who resides in the beautiful Pocono Mountains, Pennsylvania with her husband, children, and animals. While she enjoys all genres of fiction, she has a deep appreciation for fantasy, romance, mystery, crime, and horror. Lyla has a bachelor’s in anthropology and will be completing her master’s in information technology in 2023.

Writing is her moonlighting passion, and she loves having the opportunity to share her perspective as a disabled (profoundly hard of hearing) woman. During the daylight hours, Lyla works as a principal / lead design and development specialist focusing on user experience and accessibility. When not working, Lyla is usually indulging in one of her many hobbies such as amusing her children, gardening, crocheting, interior decorating, baking, cooking, or playing video games.

 

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Inflamed by Love
Martha Sweeney
(Sleigh Riders, #2)
Publication date: March 7th 2023
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

BESTSELLING author Martha Sweeney presents her first paranormal romance/fantasy series (Sleigh Riders) that features bikers, swearing, elemental magic, innuendos, and so much more.

The bitter fault of one caused the magic from within to wither and die. It lays dormant until it listens to the beat of the soul to determine all that binds.

Remnants of the legendary feud between the Frost clan and Klaus clan still continues despite a union between the main bloodlines. Noelle and Nikolaus embark on a journey westward, leaving their friends, family, and clans behind, though some seek to stop them. Can the Sleighers and Blades learn to work together as some uncover their ancestral gifts or will this new awareness tear their world apart? Will the one who sleeps wipe Frore from existence?

 

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EXCERPT:

For as long as she remembers, from all of the photos in the Frost home and the Jagged Tavern walls, the Blade’s emblem has been the same. A wolf with a black and white coat, stars and snowflakes lining its forehead, the mountain range and a few trees gathered at its neck, and a dagger in its mouth with symbols of the Great Mother etched on the side of the blade. Other symbols surround it, many of which represent air and water.

Several thoughts flurry into her mind as she realizes many similarities to the Sleigher’s emblem as well. Their design is of an eagle-like bird with a constellation on its forehead as its feathers spread out and curl upward into flames. Under its chin is a similar mountain range with trees and consists of many of the same symbols of the Great Father hidden within the fire.

“Don’t be inconsiderate,” another voice states, coming up behind her.

Noelle glances back. “You started it, Wylan.”

Several more Blades approach, standing behind both men.

“Time to go home,” Kaven instructs.

“I have found my home,” she returns sternly. “And, it is with my mate.” Her hand lifts, revealing the wedding band on her hand.

“He ain’t your home,” Wylan states. “We—”

Noelle’s hands tighten, revealing a blue and silver swirl around them. “Do not pretend you know me.” She stares each of the Blades in the eye. “Leave…go back to Frore. I’ll forget this ever happened.”

“We can’t,” Wylan says.

“I didn’t know your egos were so easily hurt,” she replies with a snicker.

“Don’t be foolish,” Kaven suggests.

“I can take you all out with barely any effort,” she reminds.

Nervousness is found in several of the Blades ’eyes as they recall the incident at the lake.

“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your mate, would you?” Wylan asks.

Before Noelle gets a chance to reply, three Blades emerge from the nearby alley with Nikolaus in hand. His arms are bound behind him and one of them has a gun pointed at Nikolaus ’side.

“He’ll be released once Theron here is notified that you have returned to Frore,” Wylan informs. “I—”

“Do as they say, Noelle,” Nikolaus says with an expression in his eyes meant only for her. “I will come for you again. And, we will continue on our journey.”

“A foolish journey,” Kaven claims. “Your father is dead.”

“How do you know?” Noelle inquires.

He and Wylan smirk, but do not comment.

“Besides, how do you know I was going to see him?”

“We know more than you realize, child,” Wylan states.

“I am not a child,” she counters.

“No…you are right about that,” he agrees. “You haven’t been for some time, but your place is with your people.”

“I have found my people as did my mother,” she snaps. “My people would not threaten me, hold my mate at gunpoint, and—”

“Stop being melodramatic,” Kaven whines. “It is not how a Blade acts.”

Noelle snickers. “Yet, isn’t that how you are acting?”

None of them dare reply.

Wylan’s jaw sets while his eyes narrow. “If you refuse to return, we will kill him.”

Noelle takes a deliberate, assertive step toward the man. “You kill him….” She looks every single Blade in the eye before returning her attention to him. “I will do the same to each of you.”

Wylan’s body shifts back slightly at the flicker of silver-white light in her eyes.

“I will hunt each of you down,” she continues, “as you did my mother. And, it will be a message to all other Blades that you do not want to get on my bad side.” Noelle takes a step toward him. “If needed, I will bring down all of that is Frore where it will look like it never existed in the first place.”

The ground rumbles below their feet, causing the men to show a sign of concern in their gaze. Noelle doesn’t let on if that tremor is her or her mate since most have yet to see a Sleigher and any of their abilities.

Kaven steps forward, sticking a dagger at her chin. “Stop it, Elle.”

Noelle puckers her lips and blows out. The breath swirls, sparkling in the morning light as it is visible to all. It reaches the knife, freezing it instantly. Her finger lifts and taps the edge, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces. Kaven lets out a yelp and releases the hilt from the coldness. What was the weapon, bounces along the ground like little beads.

“That is just an inkling of what I can do to you and Frore…and to any of you who dare to harm my mate,” she warns. Her gazes falls upon Nikolaus. “I love you.”

His head dips. “I know.”

 

Author Bio:

Martha Sweeney is a BESTSELLING author who writes in a variety of genres: romance (contemporary, romcom, suspense, paranormal and historical), suspense, fantasy, thriller, coloring books, and soon, science fiction. She strives to push herself as a storyteller with each new tale and hopes to push her readers outside of their comfort zone whether it be genre or the stories themselves.

With a B.S. in Psychology, Martha utilizes her knowledge of human and animal behavior successfully in the business world and in her writing to present realistic characters and situations. She’s been creative since she was little, always drawing, coloring or making crafts, so her venture into being an author was a natural transition.

 

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Captured Secrets
Carmen Peone
Publication date: March 7th 2023
Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Western

“Brimming with suspense and adventure, Captured Secrets, is a love story I’ll not soon forget. An engrossing tale with all the twists and turns that make a contemporary Western so hard to put down.” Debra Whiting Alexander, award-winning author of Zetty

After her parents die in a horrific car accident, Sydney Moomaw is thrust into running their guest ranch in eastern Washington. She soon discovers that her parents were keeping secrets. Why is the ranch in serious debt? Why did her parents allow the insurance to lapse? Why didn’t they tell her about it? And where are their wills? Sydney needs to figure out a way to save the ranch she loves before her sister sells it.

Photographer Trey Hardy arrives at the ranch the same day Sydney’s parents are killed. His working-vacation plans change when he decides to help Sydney save her ranch. But, his offers to help are met with resistance. Her stubbornness and independence are both maddening and alluring.

Amid the tangle of finances, tensions with her sister, and her own grief and anger, Sydney begins receiving threatening notes. They must be from her abusive ex-husband, but he’s in jail. Isn’t he? When a teenager appears at the ranch insisting she is Sydney’s daughter, Sydney finally realizes she’s going to have to start trusting people to help her. Will Trey’s plan work? Can they save her beloved ranch? Can she really have the life she’s dreamed of?

 

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EXCERPT:

Sydney took a bite of salad and enjoyed the tangy dressing. “What’re your ideas?”

Trey wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You might be able to catch your breath if you sold half the herd of cows or more. You could have a dispersal sale.”

“What’s that?”

“Bidders come to you. Since you have purebred Angus, you’ll bring in a better price. You’d sell cow/calf pairs and half the bulls. How many bulls do you have?”

“Twenty-five.”

“You can sell ten bulls. What about horses?”

“Hang on, I’ll grab a notebook.” She rushed to the office. The answering machine light flashed, so she pushed the Play button. Glenda wanted to talk about the ranch. Sydney cringed. If she had a plan before finding the will, she could hold Glenda off.

She took a minute to google and print off information about probate to read later. She tugged a leather tooled notebook from her drawer, grabbed a mechanical pencil from a Seven Tine–logoed cup, and went back to the table.

“Got it.” Trey tapped his cell and set it on the table.

She opened the book and made notes and columns. “A hundred fifty pairs, ten bulls, horses . . .” Trey had barbecue sauce around his lips. She reached for a napkin and dabbed his mouth. Their gazes locked for a few seconds before she sat back and focused on the notebook. “We list five colts for sure. If Twister pulls through, I want to keep him. He could potentially salvage this place.”

“That’s a big gamble. How’s he doing?”

“It is, but he’s much better. He was up and nursing this morning. Weak, but he’s making remarkable improvements.”

Trey studied her as though she’d stretched the truth, then gulped the last of his strawberry lemonade and clinked the glass on the table. “Good. You have a couple of reputable studs. Let’s start listing stud fees online. I’ll take their pictures tomorrow. You can work with Dr. Saul to freeze and ship semen. That will broaden the playing field.”

“How do you know all this?”

“My dad raised more than cattle. He bred and trained high-end quarter horses too. When he had a good but middleaged one that he wanted to cut and sell as a competition horse, he did the same thing.” Sydney pushed potatoes around on her plate. “Why are you so intent on helping me?”

“To be honest, I care about you guys and would like to see you save this place. It’s got a heartbeat to it that pumps a fruitful spirit through its veins. I’ve never known folks like you. This place has renewed me. It’s filled with a sentimental grit and has sparked something in me that’s been dead for a long time.”

“Grit?” Sydney didn’t feel an ounce of courage or security in herself or the ranch. Everything seemed to be crumbling around her. The dispersal sale would be a long shot depending on cattle prices.

“I know you can’t see it right now, but I feel a huge sense of peace. I felt it the moment I stepped over the threshold––”

“That’s because you’re always on the go. This is new territory for you. The difference between parched desert and lush mountains.”

Trey shook his head. “It’s more than that. A kind of stability or bond or unity surrounds this place. It’s strong. Like a gigantic magnet.” He pointed to a framed photo of a young Lester and Jennie Moomaw on the wall. “You can see it in their eyes. You have that same determined look.”

“The determination that used to exist? It’s gone. I don’t know where the money will come from to pay employee wages. I can’t leave a single, pregnant mother in a lurch.”

 

Author Bio:

Carmen Peone is an award-winning author who has lived in Northeast Washington and on the Colville Confederated Indian Reservation since 1988. She had worked with a Tribal Elder, Marguerite Ensminger, for three years learning the Arrow Lakes Language and various cultural traditions. She owns and trains her horses and competes in local Extreme Challenge and Mountain Trail competitions. With a degree in psychology, the thought of writing never entered her mind, until she married her husband and they moved to the reservation after college. With the love of history and western-woman lifestyle, she brings stories of hope, family, relationships, and faith to her novels.

These books were a labor of love, especially the second edition of the True to Heart Trilogy.

Thank you to my cover model, Shayna Palmanteer of the Colville Confederated Tribes, for your willingness to be a part of this adventure. Visit my website for information on the workbooks that go along with my young adult books at https://carmenpeone.com/books/.

http://carmenpeone.com

Healing, Hope, Horses

 

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