|10-13-2009, 04:16 PM||#1|
Join Date: Aug 2009
Untamed Hearts - Western Romance
Now available at http://www.amazon.com/Untamed-Hearts...dp/B002IT5SIA/
Description and Excerpt
After six years of wearing the badge Roy Easton finds himself an outcast, aimlessly wandering an unforgiving Montana territory. His life seems a cruel joke until he meets beautiful, independent Margaret Farnsworth. Margaret, a promised woman, sees only that strong, capable Roy is just the man to guide her through the badlands in search of her brother.
As eastern-bred Margaret struggles to overcome the hardships of the west, Roy’s pleasuring hands and kisses inevitably tear her between two worlds. A marked man, Roy can never give Margaret the respectability she deserves, yet he turns his back on his western code of honor as he dallies with the betrothed beauty.
Excerpt copyright 2009
Margaret thrust her hands onto her hips and stiffened her back ramrod straight. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my brother sent a telegram to me, asking for my help. He’s in trouble, and sick!”
Margaret felt fear squeeze her heart, and an urgent burning in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her brother suffering somewhere out on this endless prairie. She was driven to see him safe, and if she had to beat off every scoundrel and outlaw in this territory, including this one, well then by God she’d do it.
“Well, that makes me glad I’m not your brother,” Roy scoffed.
“I’m glad, too! My brother wouldn’t smell like cheap perfume!” she lashed back. Margaret was worldly enough to know that western men, like the wild territory, couldn’t be tamed by the mere presence of grace and civility.
Roy winced visibly as he recalled the range-relief gal, the one who’d run her hands over his chest outside the mercantile that afternoon, marking his shirt with her two-bit whore scent. He awkwardly twisted his hat in his hands.
“Where’s home?” he asked abruptly, so as to change the topic of conversation.
“Philadelphia,” she allowed. “I traveled up the Missouri by steamboat, got off at the fort and,” she waved her small hand, “those snakes offered to guide me the rest of the way . . . have you a name?”
Roy chuckled. “My mama, bless her soul, would tan my bottom for forgetting my manners with a lady.” He yanked off his hat, and affected an exaggerated sweeping bow that propelled his thick dark hair forward to frame the hard angles of his face.
Margaret softened. “Miss Margaret Victoria Taylor Farnsworth.” She extended her hand and smiled. “And thank you for helping me out . . . out of my predicament.”
Roy grinned at the woman who hauled a name long enough to need two mules to carry it. He reached to take her smooth white hand, inhaled her intoxicating rose scent, and, feeling a stirring in his groin, he stifled a silent groan.
It was the kind of trouble he didn’t need, especially not now. As his hard cowboy hand met hers in a gentle clasp, he subconsciously registered the fact that she came from the gussied-up stock known as eastern nobility. Sure as steers stampede, those soft-as-silk hands hadn’t known a day of hard work. His rough ones, by contrast, belonged to a hardworking rancher-turned-ex-lawman.
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