Southern Sweethearts ~Blog Tour~
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A Love as Bold as a
Texas Sunset . . .
Ex-army medic Katya Smith has always healed
other people's pain. Now she has to deal with her own. Taking a job as an
athletic trainer on the Pro Bull Riding circuit seems like the perfect escape
from her grief-except Katya doesn't know anything about bulls, and even less
about the tough men who ride them. She doesn't expect to fall for the sport, or
for one tantalizing cowboy who tumbles her defenses.
For rodeo champion Cam Cahill, fifteen years
of bucking bulls have taken their toll on his body. Before he retires, he wants
a final chance at the world title-and he doesn't need some New Age gypsy
telling him how to do his job. But when the stunning trainer with the magical
hands repairs more than his worn muscles, everything changes. Soon Cam finds
himself trying to persuade Katya to forgive her past so she can build a future
. . . with him.
About the author:
Laura Drake grew up
in the suburbs outside Detroit, though her stories are set in the west. A tomboy, she's always loved the outdoors and
adventure. In 1980 she and her sister packed everything they owned into Pintos
and moved to California. There she met and married a motorcycling, bleed-maroon
Texas Aggie and her love affair with the West was born. Laura rides
motorcycles: Elvis, a 1985 BMW Mystic, and Sting, a 1999 BMW R1100.
In Texas, Laura was introduced to her first
rodeo, and fell in love. She's an avid fan of Pro Bull Riding (PBR,) attending
any event within driving distance, including two PBR National finals. She is
hard at work at her next novel.
EXCERPT
Katya looked around the restaurant. Surrounded by
trees outside, the interior was exposed timber and glass, giving The Wild Side
the feel of a hunting lodge in the woods. The fieldstone fireplace with its
cheery gas log fire and the trophy animal heads on the wall carried out the
theme.
“Well? What do you think?” Cam smiled at her from across the
linen-covered table, the dimple in his cheek deepening.
“That gazelle looks pissed. I think he wants his body back.” The
unblinking stare of the animals on the walls gave her the willies, so she kept
her eyes on Cam. Well, maybe that wasn’t the only reason. His royal blue
Western-cut shirt showed off his washed-blue eyes. The candlelight fractured in
them, and she had a hard time looking anywhere else. He’d taken off his hat
when he sat down, but it left a mark in his short, hollow-gold hair. She took a
sip of her white wine to cool off. God, if he were on the menu, this place
would be overrun with women.
He chuckled, and when the waiter walked over with menus, he held up
a hand. “Will you trust me to order?” He gave her a one-sided smile, an eyebrow
raised in challenge.
“I guess I’ll trust you that far.”
Not much farther though. She
had no doubt that smile had separated dozens of women from their panties. Don’t forget, you don’t belong here. Why
did she have to keep reminding herself of that lately?
He ordered something called the Hunter’s Feast for Two. When the
waiter walked away, Cam turned his attention back to her. “You drive a hard
bargain, Ms. Smith. It cost me dearly to get you sitting across the table from
me. Are you sure you aren’t a horse trader on the side?”
She snorted. “I should have warned you, it’s in my blood. My
great-great grandfather made enough money trading horses to bring his family to
America.”
“Literally?”
Might as well get it out in the open. In spite of the modern push
to accept “cultural diversity,” there was still a lot of prejudice against her
kind. “I don’t just dress Gypsy, Cam. I am Gypsy.”
“No kidding?” The touch of his regard settled on her. “I know so
little about you. Where did you grow up?”
Well, he’d answered her questions. No harm in answering a few
benign ones of his. “In DC. But my summers I spent with my Gypsy family, in
Chicago.”
“What was that like?”
“It was heaven. I’m an only child. But in Chicago, my huge extended
family took me in every summer and folded me into the clan.” She smiled, seeing
Grand’s apartment in her mind. “It was like stepping into another world. Like I
lived two different lives.”
“When did you join the army?”
“After nine/eleven. A lot of people joined then.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you for a soldier, but once I knew it,
lots of things made sense. Did you like it?”
“I loved it. In a way, it was like Chicago. Another kind of family.
We rely on each other under hard times and stressful circumstances. It forges a
strong bond.”
“You miss it.”
Once again, his eyes made her nervous, seeing too much. “Something
happened over there, didn’t it?”
“I miss it.”
The waiter brought their salads, breaking the pull of his gaze.
That gaze made her want to talk, to spill her dark story all over the pristine
tablecloth, staining everything.
She lifted her fork. “Tell me about your family. Where are you
from?”
They chatted about safe subjects until their meal arrived; a huge
platter of unrecognizable meat, without a vegetable in sight. Unless fried
potatoes qualified.
He looked it over. “I’m torn. I’m afraid if I tell you what’s here,
you won’t eat it, and you’d miss out on some great food. But I don’t want to
ambush you either. So you tell me. Do you want to know?”
She picked up her fork, stabbed a deep-fried Rocky Mountain oyster,
and popped it in her mouth.
His eyes got big. “Wait, that’s a—”
“Cow testicle, I know.” She licked her lips. “I have to say, it’s
better than sheep, but not as good as camel.” She glanced around for the
waiter, then back to him. “Do you think they have hot sauce?”
His eyes got bigger. “I think I’m in love,” he breathed.
THE BAYOU'S BADDEST
BAD BOY IS BACK!
Joining the Navy was the second best thing
that ever happened to Justin "Cage" LeBlanc, the rebel son of a
no-account convict. The first was Emelie Gaudet, the love of his life . . .
until he was forced to leave town and swore there would be snow on the bayou
before he ever returned. Now, only his mortally ill grandma can bring the
injured Navy SEAL back to Terrebone Parrish, where he must face his past-and
Emelie, who's even more beautiful than she was all those years ago.
Bourbon Street blues singer Emelie is once
bitten, twice shy. When she learns that Justin is back in town, she wants
nothing to do with the once wild Cajun teenager who fled with the law on his
tail-and broke her heart. But she can't deny the red-hot attraction between
them . . . or his efforts to prove he's finally changed his hell-raising ways.
Can she trust that this time the bad boy of the bayou will be the best man for
her?
About the author:
Sandra Hill is a
graduate of Penn State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer
and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing
about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even
the darkest stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four
sons.
EXCERPT
Leaning back against the van
and spreading his legs so she could fit into the cradle of his hips, Cage
realized something in that moment. He
had never stopped loving Emelie. He
kissed the top of her head…she still used that lemon-scented shampoo…then kissed
her chin and the knuckles that continued to hold the packet of letters in a
death grip. Pulling a handkerchief out
of his back pocket, he used it to wipe the tears off her face and made her blow
her nose hard.
Then, he framed her head with trembling fingers that combed
into both sides of her hair, and he really kissed her. With all the love and yearning he’d built up
over the years. Suppressed emotions
exploded in him, emotions he hadn’t even known he’d been suppressing, not this
late in the game, anyhow. He was out of
control.
Then, Thank you God,
she was out of control, too. Somewhere
along the way she’d dropped the letters to the ground and wrapped her arms
around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.
There was a roaring in his ears, and his mind went
blank. His body zapped into sensory
overload with each of her soft caresses to his neck and shoulders, with the
arching of her body against his, with the opening of her mouth to his deep
kisses.
At one point his palms had landed on her butt and he raised
her against his erection. Sweet! Sweet agony!
Women had two surefire weapons when it came to men. Sex and tears. Cage was being assaulted by both of them, and
he welcomed the attack, even if he would be bullet-ridden in the end.
At this moment, as he feasted on the woman in his arms,
there were no jagged splinters of past betrayals, no dark shadows of regret, no
questions of what might have been, or could be.
No anger. Not even a Toby Keith
cynical message of “How Do You Like Me Now?” which he had to admit he’d
harbored on occasion in the past. Just
the now. And now was glorious.
MawMaw was probably watching
them through the kitchen window, but he didn’t care. This was the girl he loved and she was back
in his arms. Nothing was going to stop
him now.
Except something did.
The slamming of car doors.
“Yoo-hoo!” someone yelled, and it wasn’t Belle and her
boys. It was that Cajun wackjob Tante
Lulu, with pink hair that matched a pink t-shirt proclaiming “I May Be Old, But
There Are Parts of Me That Still Zing.”
With her grinning niece Charmaine in a hoochie-mama, leopard print cat
suit. Noticing the direction of his
stare, Tante Lulu remarked, “I know. I
tol’ her ta be careful. That get-up’s so
tight, folks will see her religion.”
Cage pressed his forehead against Em’s, praying that his
hard-on wouldn’t be evident. Em moaned;
she had a few thing to hide, too, like her nipples under the thin silk shirt
she wore, tucked into a pair of denims. “We came to help,” Charmaine said, smacking him
on the butt as she passed by, carrying a box overflowing with plastic
containers of food.
“Jist in time, by the looks of things,” Tante Lulu
remarked. She was also carrying
food. Looked like one of those lidded
cake carriers. “Best I hurry up with
your hope chest, boy. Guar-an-teed!”
It's been two years
since Jessy Lawrence lost her husband in Afghanistan, and she's never fully
recovered. Drowning her sorrows didn't help, and neither did the job she'd
hoped would give her a sense of purpose. Now trying to rebuild her life, she
finds solace in her best friends, fellow military wives who understand what
it's like to love-and lose-a man in uniform . . . and the memory of one stolen
night that makes her dream of a second chance at love.
Dalton Smith has known more than his fair
share of grief. Since his wife's death, he revels in the solitude of his cattle
ranch. But try as he might, he can't stop thinking about the stunning redhead
and the reckless, passionate night they shared. He wasn't ready before, but
Dalton sees now that Jessy is the only woman who can mend his broken heart. So
how will he convince her to take a chance on him?
About the author:
Known for her
intensely emotional stories, Marilyn Pappano is the USA Today bestselling
author of nearly eighty books. She has made regular appearances on bestseller
lists and has received recognition for her work in the form of numerous awards.
Though her husband's Navy career took them across the United States, he and Ms.
Pappano now live in Oklahoma high on a hill that overlooks her hometown. They
have one son and daughter-in-law, an adorable grandson, and a pack of
mischievous dogs.
EXCERPT
Dalton thought he was just about free
to go when the photographer called the wedding party back for pictures, first in
the sanctuary, then outside in the warm sun. He hadn’t had to hold a smile for
such a long time that his face muscles were starting to protest when the guy
decided ten thousand shots were enough.
Finally he could slip out of his
jacket. His cattle’s blackand-white coats might keep them warm in winter and
cool in summer, but he was about to dissolve into a giant drop of sweat. As the
rest of the guests came out of the church to say good-bye to the happy couple,
he loosened his tie, then saw Jessy, standing in the shade of an oak, arms
folded over her middle, watching him.
God, she’d been watching him all through the reception, and him her. He couldn’t say why
he hadn’t approached her, asked her to share a piece of
cake, talk with him, dance with him. Then his gut clenched hard, his chest tightening, and he remembered: because he would
have spontaneously combusted,
and wouldn’t that have been an ugly page in Dane and Carly’s wedding album? From the moment he’d walked into the church and seen her
sitting there all beautiful and sexy and focused on him, all he could think was, Is it time? Please, can it be time?
He was surprised God hadn’t struck him
down where he stood.
It was stupid, he thought as he walked
to her. He was thirty-two years old. He’d been married. He’d had sex with his
share of women. Hell, he’d had sex with
this woman. But he hadn’t known then what he knew now. Then it had been
horniness and loneliness, and any woman who persisted until he was drunk would
have satisfied. Now it was . . .
Well, he didn’t know what it was,
exactly. Important.
They had something special, a second
chance for both of them to
make things right, to
make each other right. Something to not screw up.
Wow, loved all the excerpts! I also love a Southern setting. Can't beat quirky characters and great food! Though the food from that first excerpt...no thanks! ;)
ReplyDeleteI love a Southern setting too! I might have to agree with you on the food in the first excerpt... brave girl... :)
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