After losing her father and husband in a mine disaster, Priscilla Heartsel faces poverty and eviction from her home by a heartless mine owner. Tricked into a bank robbery gone wrong, Braxton Gamble finds himself shot and unconscious in Priscilla's bed. Can they survive long enough to find a love more precious than gold?
Excerpt:
She loosened her grip on the cookie and it landed in her lap. "You're planning to get married? Yet you were kissing me in front of everyone only moments ago?"
"Only because you're who I plan to marry." He grinned.
She retrieved her cookie, left it on the table and returned the plate to the pantry.
"Hey," he said, "I wasn't through with those."
"Too bad." Hands firmly planted on her hips, she glared at him. "I have no intention of remarrying, and if I did, what makes you think it would be to you?"
Braxton got to his feet. "I'm crazy about you, Pris, and I think you care for me too."
Moving around the table toward her, he said, "Okay, Pris. Don't get your dander up."
Relieved that he was going to leave quietly, she relaxed, but as soon as she did, he reached out and hauled her into his arms. Before she could voice a complaint, he kissed her. Again. She tensed and tried to break free.
Oh, but it felt so good. While cursing herself for not fighting harder, she kissed him back. A tingling began below her abdomen and she felt flushed and hungry for something she couldn't name, except that she wanted more of what Braxton offered. Her hands slipped behind his head and she pressed closer, noticing he was ready for her.
"Lord, but I could go on kissing you forever," he murmured.
"Shut up and just do it," she whispered back.
She felt him smile against her lips, but not for long. He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened to him, then slipped it inside. He tasted like oatmeal and coffee. Sweet, heady, and strong.
He pressed his aroused body closer to her, and she couldn't help wriggling. Her heart pounded, her blood on fire.
The next thing she knew, he'd picked her up and was heading for the stairs. Priscilla knew what he planned and opened her mouth to object.
A knock came on the door. "Braxton, are you in there?" Etta hollered. "Irish and Logan have been sighted riding toward the Lucky Lady. You coming with me?"
"Aw, hell," he muttered, letting Priscilla's feet touch the floor. "I gotta go. I'm sorry, Pris, darlin'."
"It doesn't matter. What we were doing was insane anyway."
He glowered at her. "You still going to claim you don't want me?"
"I don't want to marry."
"That's fine with me. We'll just live together."
"Ha! Get out of here."
"I'm going." He stalked to the door and slammed it behind him.
Don’t forget to visit the other stops on the tour.
About the Author:
Charlene Raddon’s first serious attempt at writing fiction came in 1980 when a vivid dream drove her to drag out a typewriter and begin writing. Because of her love of romance novels and the Wild West, her primary genre is historical romance. Kensington Books originally published five of her novels. These were later released as eBooks by Tirgearr Publishing. Currently, Charlene is an Indie author. She also designs book covers, specializing in western historical.
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