Welcome To The Romancing The West Blog Tour
Why
do we enjoy writing and reading about the West? What is it about
cowboys that is just plain irresistible? Over thirty authors and
bloggers tackle these and other questions by explaining why we love
Romancing the West.
But
that’s not all, as you enjoy some awesome blogs and find fantastic
books, for every post you comment on with your email address, you will
be entered for some amazing prizes.
***PLEASE LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS TO QUALIFY***
Grand Prize
A swag pack which includes books (both ebooks and paper), Amazon gift
card, custom made butterfly jewelry, book cards, magnets and much more
all tucked away in a keepsake box. (Available to US residents only.
Winner will be announced on February 26 at 10 PM EST)
My Giveaway
An ebook of A Midwest Summer Night’s Dream, released by BookStrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/a-midwest-summer-nights-dream
I’d love for you to check out the Casting Call, and more at:
Here’s the blurb:
Open sky, Shakespeare, solitude. All
Jebediah Greene needs. Alone since his teens, he’s never known loneliness,
until he leaves Winona Young in California. Worse, he fears she’ll trap herself
in a loveless marriage of convenience. After acting as her guide to San
Francisco, how far will Jeb go to win her heart?
Reading provides escape for Winona
Young. Usually. Fleeing Philadelphia, she learns her distant suitor isn’t who
he seemed. Neither is her mountain man guide, in a good way. Intelligent, but
mule-headed, Jeb’s impossible to speak to, in any language. Winona falls in
love with the stunning beauty of the wilderness, with the simple ways of the
Osage people, and with Jeb. But books can’t teach her how to tame a mountain
man.
Excerpt
Curses flew through Jeb’s head all
day, but he cut them off before they reached his tongue. Stubborn woman. She’d
cornered him like a fox in a hen house. Her chances were slim, but not
impossible.
The mere thought of riding beside
her, wind rifling through her hair… Oh, what a pickle. He sure could use the
cash, but the strain of avoiding her might do him in. He’d have to ride upwind
so as not to catch her lilac scent, or the constant erection hitting the saddle
might kill him.
When she approached him that night
as he relaxed on the porch swing, her sheepish expression said it all. “No
luck?”
“Not yet. But I’ll find one soon.
When I do, will you be my guide?”
Time to try a different tack. “What
makes you think I’m trustworthy? I might be the kind of man who takes advantage
of a lady in such a situation.”
“You are trustworthy. Mrs. Wilson
said so. I have implicit faith in her good opinion of you.”
Why had he introduced the two women?
Dealing with a single woman didn’t present a problem, not usually, but get two
or more together, and damned if trouble didn’t brew in the kitchen right along
with the coffee.
At his silence, she folded her arms,
and stole glances at him. Never a good sign. He could see the spokes of her
brain working behind those dark eyes.
“Perhaps you don’t have the gumption
necessary for such an assignment.” She tilted her head, exposing her gracefully
arched neck.
His mouth watered, longing to taste
it. A laugh burst from him. “Gumption?” He scratched his chin. “Or perhaps my
foresight is keener than yours, Miss Young. Do you have any idea what such a
trip entails?”
“If you’re worried I can’t keep up
with you—”
“You can’t keep up, you can’t pitch
in. You can’t even cook, can you?”
She glanced away. “Well, I—”
“If I shoot a rabbit for dinner, how
would you prepare it?”
She winced. “A rabbit?”
“A saddle can get mighty
uncomfortable after an hour. What would you do after three hours? Or five?” The
image of her rubbing her sore rear stirred him. Mighty tempting to offer to rub
it for her. His voice cracked as he said, “If you want to be in San Francisco
sooner than the coach, we’d have to make good time. Six, seven, maybe eight
hours’ riding every day. And if we get caught in a storm, or held up somehow,
we’d have to make up the time.”
Her jaw set hard, her lips pressed
into a thin line.
“I’m sorry, Miss Young. You are not
cut out for that kind of hardship.” Nor was he built to resist such temptation,
the kind that carried a long-term sentence. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy carrying
it out; yes, just thinking of sharing a bedroll with her heated his insides and
turned his brain to mush. Another strike against such a trip; he might lead
them in circles, staring at her rather than the path ahead.
She stepped closer, her eyes ablaze.
“You think I don’t know hardship? You’re wrong, Mr. Greene. No, not the kind
you face in your travels. I would think those hardships would be easier to bear
than…” She looked away with glazed eyes. “Forgive me.”
Her sudden fury gave him pause, and
aroused his curiosity. She had mettle in her bones, a steel reserve of strength
in her sinewy frame. He had no doubt she’d experienced something terrible,
terrible enough to make her leave her home. Her stubbornness might fade in the
face of the long trail.
“I mean no disrespect.”
“Your kind never do.”
“Ma’am, believe it or not, I am not
ignorant of the rules of civilization. I am well able to prevent myself from
committing social blunders.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be
unkind. My nerves have been on edge since we left Philadelphia. A woman
traveling alone can’t take too many precautions.”
“I don’t expect you’d encounter many
willing to take up the challenge of threatening you, ma’am.” He regretted his words
when he saw how she flinched under their sting. He wished her no harm, but
everything she said provoked him in some way.
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