Splatterwestern – The Longest Thirst by Roxie Voorhees @theb00kslayer

I want to thank Roxie Vorhees for the opportunity to read The Longest Thirst.

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t expect to be killing my father by sunset, but here we are.

That’s the first sentence of the book and the hook was set. I thought this might be a good one, but I wasn’t prepared for how good. I love the dark side of life, but if you are a bit squeamish, you might want to think twice. We have brutality, racism, rape, torture…

Lillian had had enough when she took her father’s life. She rescued the woman tied to the stake, and has been on the run ever since. I love her thought, ‘I am so sick of men sticking their penis where it isn’t welcome.’ I would think twice, if I were a man, about putting it in an unwilling woman’s mouth. Could you resist the temptation to give him a what for?

I cringed, laughed and was shocked at the the levels of depravity…and that ending… WHAT…WHAT…marvelous, simply marvelous. Roxie Vorhees doesn’t hold back. It’s a short book, at 111 pages, and you won’t want to quit once you start.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of The Longest Thirst by Roxie Voorhees.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

he Quick and the Dead meets Carmilla.

When Lillian killed her father, getting the blood out of her dress was the least of her worries. The young Native woman to her left would soon prove to be a blessing or a curse. Just as hope is all but evaporated on the cracked earth of the Mojave, a beacon of light beams in the center of Calico.

Born into the rigidity of classism, Lillian struggles to trust the welcoming hospitality of the town and its inhabitants. Convinced this respite is brief, Lillian prepares to return the woman to her people, and flee from her crime. Even so, Calico softens her heart and Lillian soon feels truly at home.

But a stranger gallops into Calico. His presence commands obedience and soon he finds what he is looking for, Lillian.

And they have unfinished business.

  • Genre: Fiction, Horror, Splatterwestern, Western
  • 111 pages, Kindle Edition
  • Expected publication September 26, 2023 by Book Slayer Press

ABOUT ROXIE VOORHEES

Roxie Voorhees (she/he/they) is a tangled threesome of Gag me with a Spoon, Welcome to the Darkside, and Catch me Outside. When she isn’t writing, she is hyperfocusing on whichever of the many hobbies her ADHD demands.
A California native, he resides with his service dog, Bellatrix, in Little Rock, where he refuses to use the word fixin’, battles pollen, and fantasizes of using a public bathroom without it being a political stance.
They are the co-editor of MINE: An Anthology of Body Autonomy Horror published by Creature Publishing and READER BEWARE: A Fear Street Appreciation Anthology to be published October 2023, by DarkLit Press.

Instagram: @the.book.slayer
Twitter: @theb00kslayer
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/rvthebookslayer
Website: www.roxievoorhees.gay

Roxie has come out as gender fluid! She prefers any pronouns and doesn’t mind being included in women specific lists, but asks you please note their fluidity.

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Giveaway – Lucky Shot by Shanna Hatfield @XpressoTours @ShannaHatfield

Lucky Shot
Shanna Hatfield
Publication date: June 20th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Western

What’s a girl to do when her aim is true?

As a registered nurse at the Boise VA Hospital, Grace Marshall is devoted to her patients, but some wounds require more than medical care. A patient too stubborn and angry to accept the help he needs storms out of her exam room, ruffling her feathers. Yet, when the man returns to apologize, something about him tugs at her heart.

Levi Gibson left for war young and idealistic but returned from Vietnam with physical scars and a haunted soul. He tries to banish the darkness brewing inside him with hard work on his family’s potato farm, but it’s a young nurse’s kindness that brings unexpected light and joy into his life. If Levi can open up to Grace and let her see his pain, could she be the key that unlocks a future full of hope instead of mere survival?

After her father sends Grace a legendary pistol, target practice provides an excuse to spend time with Levi during the summer of 1972. As his shadows overwhelm him, it will take far more than a lucky shot for Grace to hit love’s mark.

Goodreads / Amazon / Bookbub

EXCERPT:

She straightened in time to see Levi sprinting through the rain with a vase of flowers.

His cowboy hat had kept his head dry, but Grace was sure she could wring water out of his shirt when he stepped inside. A vision of him shirtless made warmth sear her cheeks as he walked over to her and held out the vase.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

She stared at the vase brimming with fragrant lilacs, white tulips, and pink peonies. The arrangement was stunning, but she had no idea why he’d bring it to her.

Hesitantly, she reached out for the vase. “What’s this?”

“An apology,” he said, removing his hat as she took the vase from him.

She held the vase against her mid-section, longing to bury her nose in the divine lilacs. She’d always loved the scent of them when they bloomed in the spring. On their dairy farm, they had several old bushes that bloomed along the back fence. She’d missed them since she’d moved to Boise. The only chance she got to smell flowers now was while walking in the park, or when one of her fellow nurses received them as a gift.

“An apology?” she asked, giving the cute cowboy a curious glance.

“For Friday. I was rude, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything you did,” he admitted, appearing both nervous and repentant.

She ignored the way he’d shoved his left hand into the front pocket of his jeans to hide his injury. His right hand clenched his hat, as though he was anxious. Uncertain.

“Do you really think I’m too young, incompetent, and impertinent to be a nurse?” she asked, keeping her expression unreadable, but she shifted her posture, cocking one hip defiantly.

A slow grin spread across his face as he watched her, appearing to keenly observe her every move. His head shook from side to side. “No, ma’am. I think you are more than qualified to do your job, and you were not impertinent. I’m truly sorry for the way I behaved when I was here. The way I acted was unnecessary and unkind, and it bugged me all weekend that I’d been that way with you. Truly, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Grace said, grinning at him and surrendering to her need to sniff the blooms. She closed her eyes to better savor the fragrance, then opened them to find Levi watching her. “I love lilacs.”

His grin broadened. “We have a bunch of them at the farm just starting to bloom. The tulips were on the north side of the house, or they’d likely be gone for the season.”

“It’s a magnificent bouquet. Do you need the vase back?” she asked.

“No. Ma has dozens of them. She gets the credit for arranging the flowers, though. She said to tell you that she did a better job of raising me than you might have previously considered and to please not hold my behavior against her.”

“I did have a few thoughts about that this weekend.” Grace smiled and hugged the vase a little tighter. “I do thank you, Sergeant Gibson, for these lovely blooms, but I should get to work.”

“I didn’t mean to keep you. I just wanted to apologize and ask for your forgiveness.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking a step back toward the door.

Grace had never, not once in her life, considered asking a guy on a date, but a sense of panic welled in her at the thought of not seeing Levi again soon.

The words spilled out of her, leaving her unable to stuff them back into her mouth. “Are you busy next Saturday?” she heard herself ask.

Levi appeared as shocked by the question as Grace felt.

“No. Not really. Did you have something in mind?”


Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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Giveaway – When The Moon Shines by Lucia Ashta @XpressoTours

When the Moon Shines
Lucia Ashta
(Six Shooter and a Shifter, #1)
Publication date: April 1st 2022
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Western

Welcome to Traitor’s Den. I hope you like it here, because there’s no leaving the small western town that’s more theme park than authentic. Once you walk through the portal, you’re stuck as a boot heel in a half foot of mud.

I’ve never seen the outside world and I don’t care. The cannon-toting, trigger-happy residents here are like family, even if most of them are a few spoons short of a full set. Eventually, everyone grows on you, kinda like nail fungus. But the booze flows freely, and Tiger keeps me company. He’s as much a prisoner as I am.

I don’t figure there’s much point in wanting what you can never have. I’ll eventually accept one of my boyfriend’s marriage proposals and then keep policing the one-way town while I pop out the babies he wants. I was born knowing how to make chicken salad out of chicken shit.

At least I won’t be bored. Denners aren’t fans of following the rules, and the longer they’re in town, the worse they behave, thanks to the spell that keeps us all trapped here.

Just when I think I’ve made my peace with my lot, the portal pops open and two men shoot through, throwing punches before their feet even finish landing in my town. When they finally look at me, all I see is problems. Big, ginormous, entirely-too-handsome problems. And that’s before I even take into account the little “surprise” they brought through with them.

No one’s ever looked at me the way they do.

They aren’t the kind of men who back down after claiming something.

Or someone…

Did I say I had my life in Traitor’s Den all figured out? Hell, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

* A sexy fantasy western with growly shifters, sketchy vamps, peculiar mages and creatures, and one badass cowgirl sheriff. Within this small town, magic and gossip flow as freely as whiskey, and work and pleasure are nearly the same thing. Weird things happen on the regular in Traitor’s Den. Come and join the quirky family, where everyone’s packing. Oh, and don’t mind the tiger.

Goodreads / Amazon


EXCERPT

Rhett snorted. “Got a little cheering section, don’t you? Do you make them say that stuff? Part of your little welcome speech?”

At that, the crowd went eerily still and silent. All but Tiger and Jolene. Jolene whinnied her protest outside, but Tiger was my immediate concern. As he rose to his large, heavy paws, I placed a calming hand on his head and kept it there.

“It’s okay, Tiger. I got this.”

A low rumble rolled deep in his chest.

Rhett had the good sense to appear intimidated, though he hid it well. The tension in his jaw and the mild tic in one eye gave him away.

Zeke didn’t bother to hide his apprehension, sliding his chair back from the table to more clearly distance himself from the jackass with a stupid retort on the tip of his tongue for just about everything.

Keeping one hand on Tiger, I slid my drink to the side with the other, and leaned on the table, closing the distance between Rhett and me.

Up close, it was easier to make out that his eyes weren’t a flat forest green; flecks of yellow, blue, and brown made them so much more interesting. His face was beautiful and yet still masculine, his square jaw reinforcing the manly aspect of his features.

Too bad he was one of the biggest jerkwads to ever come through the portal.

Dropping my voice so it vibrated with all the danger I was purposefully injecting into it, with a cold smile, I said, “Here in Traitor’s Den, we’re all judged on our actions. Not where we came from, not what we did before, not who we used to know. Connections from the outside world won’t help you here. In here, you earn your reputation, fair and square. If I have a cheering squad, it’s because I put the needs of others first as much as I should. I give respect when it’s earned and treat everyone fairly. You treat others like shit, you’ll have me to deal with, and trust me, so far you’ve only seen my nice side. Mess with me or my Denners and I’ll come after you and make sure you never make that same mistake again.”

Author Bio:

Lucía Ashta is the Amazon top 20 bestselling author of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal women’s fiction filled with wild magic, spicy romance, and quirky characters that make you snort-laugh.

A former attorney and architect, she’s an Argentinian-American who lives in North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains with her husband and daughters.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub


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Giveaway – To Hold A Rancher’s Hand by Kadi James

To Hold A Rancher’s Hand
Kadi James
Publication date: July 27th 2021
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Rafe is a volunteer fireman who is sworn to protect his ranch and town. Gail has just lost everything to the devastating fire that destroyed her home. Will these two be able to heal their scars and find new love and happiness?

After the trauma of war, rancher Rafe comes home to help his community as a volunteer fireman while trying to find balance in civilian life. He must carry the mantle of his family, who have been Guardians of Coyote Valley for generations. Now its up to Gabe to protect the town from the fires that ravage the national forests around Coyote Valley. But as he gives his all to the community, he often forgets to take care of his own heart.

Loner Gail has just lost everything to the devastating fire that destroyed her home. When the handsome rancher who saved her offers to let her stay at his place, it seems like the perfect solution. Until she remembers she doesn’t really like living with people. It’s why she was living up on top of the mountain in the first place.

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

“You’ve been back a couple years.” Javier sipped his coffee as he gazed pensively at his former ward. “I think you’ve got a better handle on it than you let on. But it’s alright. I’d rather you take it at your pace and maybe think about settling down.”

“Settle down?” Rafe couldn’t stifle his laughter. “With what? All I ever see are the sheep and dogs.”

“Well, you’re always pent up in this house.” Javier motioned to encompass the kitchen and the rest of Rafe’s home.

“I spend fifteen hours a day working out on the ranch.” Rafe chided, sliding his breakfast onto the plate. “I’d hardly call that pent up in the house. You know I’ve never had much luck with women.”

“It’s only because you don’t actually ask any of them out,” Javier said with a chuckle.

“I just haven’t met a woman who, well, a woman who made sense to me.” Gabriel took a big bite of his toast and egg.

“Maybe you need to rethink how you make sense to other people.” Javier stood up to wash out his coffee mug. “Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at it.”

“I’ve never even had a girlfriend,” Rafe said. “That is as awkward as they come.”

“Well, it’s hard to have a girlfriend when you’re in the military. But I was married when I was 21. You know you need a support system to get you through some of these things in life that you’re going to face.” Javier placed his cup in the drying rack.

“I can’t imagine facing worse than I have.” Rafe took another bite.

“I pray you don’t,” Javier said. “But whatever you face, a wife sure helps with that. Martha is the only reason I was able to make it through when your parents died. Here I was all of a sudden responsible for a whole ranch and a small, grieving child.”

“Well, I don’t have a child to take care of.” Rafe shrugged as he finished his breakfast.

“No. You’re going to have a hundred children to take care of as soon as these ewes start lambing.” Javier laughed and drained his coffee.

Rafe was just rinsing his plate when a loud static sound filled the air. A dispatcher’s voice called out over the radio. “Report of a half-acre in the grass, moderate rate of spread. Coyote Valley vegetation fire…Cow Mountain Road near mile post 12.38. Command 8. Tactical 2. First at scene will establish roadway IC. Stand by for check back on command 8.”

Gabriel and Javier exchanged a look. “That’s on North Ridge.” Gabriel left his plate in the sink and headed to the entry hall to grab his gear.

“All volunteers report to base,” the dispatcher continued. “Fire house 13 we have a report of a blaze starting up on Cow Mountain we need all hands to the fire department please including the volunteers we need as much help as we possibly can get. There’s a fire on Cow Mountain heading south.”

Javier squinted out the window and the trees swaying in the wind. “There are a few houses up on North Ridge. It’ll get to those first.”

“People living up there, still?” Rafe hoisted his web gear onto his shoulder and slung his boots and helmet up in his other hand.

“Yeah, I think there are about five houses up there,” Javier said, pulling out his phone and preparing a group text. “I’ll get the guys together.”

“I’ll head to the houses. It’s probably near where the fire started.” Rafe nodded to Javier who pulled the door open for him. “It’s not like there was a lightning storm going on.”

“You get what you need to get done,” Javier said. “I’ll send the boys up the mountain as soon as I can.”

“We’re going to need all the hands we can get,” Rafe threw his gear in the back of the truck and tipped his hat to Javier. “If the wind is blowing south, the fire will be headed straight to us.”

Author Bio:

Kadi James was raised on a ranch in Northern California riding horses, writing stories, and waiting for true love to happen. Her passion for storytelling took her around the world to experience global cultures, history, and mythology, always looking for the similarities rather than the differences. After years overseas, country roads brought her back home again and she returned to California, her family, and the ranch where she grew up. Today she writes Sweet Ranch Romance that touches reader’s hearts by reminding them of the simple things that really matter in life; family, kindness, and always…love.

Website / Bookbub / Facebook / Instagram


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Giveaway – Dear Durwood by Jeff Bond @jeffABond @partnersincr1me

.

Dear Durwood by Jeff Bond Banner

 

 

Dear Durwood

by Jeff Bond

on Tour August 1 – September 30, 2020

Synopsis:

Dear Durwood by Jeff Bond

Book Details:

Genre: Action-Adventure / Western Romance
Published by: Jeff Bond Books
Publication Date: June 15, 2020
Number of Pages: 215
ISBN: 1732255296 (ISBN13: 9781732255296)
Series: Third Chance Enterprises
Purchase Links: Amazon | Third Chance Stories | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Dear Mr. Oak Jones:

I am Carol Bridges, mayor of Chickasaw, Texas. We are located in the western part of the state, Big Bend Country if you know it. I thank you in advance for considering my injustice.

Chickasaw is the home of Hogan Consolidated, a family-run manufacturer of industrial parts. Hogan employs 70 percent of able-bodied adults in Chickasaw, and its philanthropy has sustained the town for ninety years. It’s due to the Hogan family we have an arts center and turf field for youth football.

Recently, East Coast lawyers and investment bankers have taken aim at the company. Multi-million dollar claims have been filed, accusing Hogan of putting out defective parts. It’s rumored the company will be acquired or liquidated outright. Massive layoffs are feared.

My constituents work hard, Mr. Jones. They have mortgages and children to feed. I have tried to find answers about the Hogan family’s intentions, to see whether I or the town can do anything to influence the course of events. Jay Hogan, the current CEO, does not return my phone calls—and is seen dining at sushi restaurants in El Paso (85 miles away) more often than in Chickasaw. I have gotten the runaround from our state and federal representatives. I believe it’s their fundraising season.

As mayor, I have a duty to explore every possible solution to the challenges we face. I do not read Soldier of Fortune regularly, but my deputy police chief showed me your ad soliciting “injustices in need of attention.” I feel certain injustice is being done to Chickasaw, though I can’t as yet name its perpetrator and exact nature.

Alonso (our deputy chief) knows you by reputation, and assures me these details won’t trouble you.

Thank you sincerely for your time,

Carol Bridges
Mayor of Chickasaw, TX

Chapter One

Durwood got to the Chickasaw letter halfway through the sorghum field. He was flipping through the stack from the mailbox, passing between sweet-smelling stalks. Leaves brushed his bluejeans. Dust coated his boots. He scanned for clumps of johnsongrass as he read, picking what he saw. The first five letters he’d tucked into his back pocket.

The Chickasaw letter he considered longer. Steel-colored eyes scanned left to right. He forgot about the johnsongrass. An ugliness started in his gut.

Lawyers.

He put the letter in his front pocket, then read the rest. The magazine forwarded him a bundle every month. In September, he’d only gotten three. At Christmas time, it seemed like he got thirty or forty. Folks felt gypped around the holidays.

Today, he read about two brothers who didn’t steal a car. About a principal who got fired for being too aggressive fighting drugs in his school. About a bum call in the Oregon state Little League championship twenty years ago. About a furnace warranty that wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.

Durwood chuckled at the Oregon letter. This one had been writing in for years. Maybe he figured Durwood didn’t read them, figured some screener only put a couple through each go-round and one of these days they’d sneak his through.

But Durwood did read them. Every last one.

He put the letter about the principal in his front pocket with the Chickasaw letter.

Off his right side, Sue-Ann whimpered. Durwood turned to find the bluetick coonhound pointing the south fenceline.

“I see,” Durwood said, of the white-tail doe nosing around the spruces. “Left my gun back at the house, though.”

Sue-Ann kept her point. Her bad hip quivered from the effort. Old as she was, she still got fired up about game.

Durwood released her with a gesture. “What do you say to some bluegill tonight instead? See what Crole’s up to.”

Durwood called Crole from the house. Crole, his fishing buddy who lived on the adjacent sixty acres, said he was good for a dozen casts. They agreed to meet at the river dividing their properties. Durwood had a shorter walk and used the extra time to clean his M9 semiautomatic.

Leaving, he noticed the red maple that shaded the house was leafing out slow. He examined the trunk and found a pattern of fine holes encircling the bark.

That yellow-bellied sapsucker.

Durwood wondered if the holes were related to the tree’s poor vigor.

Out by the river, Crole limped up with his jug of moonshine, vile stuff he made from Jolly Ranchers.

They fished.

Sue-Ann laid in the mud, snoring, her stiff coat bristling against Durwood’s boot. The afternoon stretched out, a dozen casts becoming two dozen. Then three. In the distance, the hazy West Virginia sky rolled through the Smokies. Mosquitoes weren’t too bad, just a nip here and there at the collar.

Durwood thought about Chickasaw, Texas. He thought about East Coast lawyers. About the hardworking men and women who’d elected Carol Bridges to be mayor and stick up for them.

He thought about that CEO picking up raw fish with chopsticks in El Paso.

He thought, too, about the principal who’d been fired for doing right.

Crole said, “Got some letters today?”

Durwood said he had.

Crole grinned, showing his top teeth—just two, both nearly black. “Still running that ad in Soldier of Fortune?”

Durwood lowered the brim of his hat against the sun. “Don’t cost much.”

“They give a military discount?”

Durwood raised a shoulder. He’d been discharged from the Marines a decade ago. He didn’t accept handouts for his service.

Crole nodded to the bulge in his pocket—the letters. “Anything interesting?”

“Sure,” Durwood said. “Plenty.”

They fished into twilight. Durwood caught just five bluegill. Crole, twenty years his senior and luckier with fish, reeled in a dozen, plus a decent-size channel cat despite using the wrong bait. The men strung their catches on a chain. The chain rippled in the cool, clear water.

The Chickasaw job appealed to Durwood. The opportunity to fight crooked lawyers, do something about these Wall Street outfits that made their buck slicing up American companies, putting craftsmen out of work until every last doodad was made in some knockoff plant in China.

Still, Durwood had trouble imagining the case. What would he do, flip through documents? Sit across a folding table from men in suits and ask questions?

Then he thought about the principal. About those gangs the letter had mentioned, how you could look out the windows of the dang school and see drug dealers on street corners. Intimidators. Armed thugs.

Durwood had an easy time imagining that case.

The sky had just gotten its first purple tinge when Durwood lost his bait a third time running.

“These fish.” He held his empty hook out of the water, shaking his head.

Crole said, “There’s catfish down there older than you.”

“Smarter, too,” Durwood said.

Still, the five bluegill would be enough for him and Sue-Ann. Durwood unclipped the fishes’ cheeks from the chain and dropped them in a bucket.

Back at the house, Durwood spotted the yellow-bellied sapsucker climbing the red maple. Not only was he pecking the tree, the ornery creature kept pulling twigs from the gray squirrels’ nest, the one they’d built with care and sheltered in the last four winters.

“Git down!” Durwood called.

The sapsucker zipped away to other antics.

Inside, Durwood scaled and beheaded the bluegill. Then he fried them in grease and cornmeal. Sue-Ann ate only half a fish.

Durwood moved the crispy tail under her nose. “Another bite?”

The dog sneezed, rattly in her chest.

Durwood rinsed his dishes and switched on a desktop computer. He looked up Chickasaw. There was plenty of information online. Population, land area. Nearly every mention of the town made reference to Hogan Consolidated. It looked like Hogan Consolidated was Chickasaw, Texas, and vice versa.

On the official municipal website, he found a picture of Carol Bridges. She wore a hardhat, smiling among construction workers.

Handsome woman. Warm, lively eyes.

Next, Durwood looked up the fired principal. The man lived and worked in upstate New York. For a few weeks, his case had been all over the local news there. A city councilman believed he’d been railroaded. Nineteen years he’d served the school district without prior incident. The only blemish Durwood found was a college DUI.

Durwood hadn’t started with computers until his thirties. His calloused fingers regularly struck the keys wrong, but he managed. This one he’d gotten from the Walmart in Barboursville, forty-nine bucks on Black Friday. It had its uses. A tool like any other.

“Well?” he said aloud, even though Sue was out on the porch. “Looks like a tossup.”

Durwood changed computer windows to look again at Carol Bridges. Then changed back to the principal.

At the bottom of the news story about the principal, he noticed a bubble with “47 comments” inside. He knew people who spouted off online were unreliable and often foolish. He clicked anyway.

“Good riddance, got what he deserved!”

“TOTAL RACIST WINDBAG, glad they fired him.”

Durwood read all forty-seven comments. Some defended the man, but most were negative.

It was impossible to know how much was legitimate. Durwood left judging to Him, and Him alone.

But Durwood did know that the petitioner, the one who’d written the letter to Soldier of Fortune, was the principal himself. Not some third party. Not an objective observer.

What had seemed like a case of obvious bureaucratic overreach suddenly looked less obvious.

Now Sue-Ann loped in from the porch. Appalachian air followed her inside, nice as perfume. Sue settled at Durwood’s feet, wheezing, rheumy eyes aimed up at her master.

He said, “What do you say, girl. Up for seeing the Lone Star State?”

The dog sat up straight, responding to the action in his voice. The effort made her mew. That hip.

Durwood laid his thumb down the ridge of the dog’s skull. He felt pained himself, thinking of documents, folding tables, and men in suits.

Chapter Two

It was a healthy drive, nearly two thousand miles, to see this Carol Bridges. Doubts remained in Durwood’s mind. Petitioners he met through the Soldier of Fortune ad fell through sometimes. It would turn out their letter was misleading or flat false. Other times the injustice had taken care of itself by the time Durwood arrived.

Once he’d driven clear to Nebraska to help a man whose pride and joy, a 1917 Ford Bucket T he’d restored from salvage by hand, had been denied roadworthiness by some city councilman with a grudge. When Durwood knocked on his door and asked about the hot rod, the man said, “The Ford? Guy made me an offer, I sold her a few weeks back.”

Durwood decided it was worth the trip to hear Carol Bridges out. If he didn’t like what she said, he’d tip his hat, get back in the Vanagon, and drive home.

Crole observed, “You could call.”

Durwood was humping supplies into the van. “Folks can say anything on the phone.”

The older man looked to the horizon, where the sun would rise soon. His pajamas dragged the dirt, and he held his jug by two fingers. “They can say anything to your face, too.”

Durwood whistled to Sue-Ann.

“It’s different,” he said as the dog climbed in. “Lay off that shine, hm?”

Crole looked down at his jug as though surprised by its presence.

He answered, “Don’t kill anyone you don’t have to.”

With a wave, Durwood took out. The van wheezed over mountain switchbacks and chugged steadily along interstates. By afternoon, Sue was wincing on the bare metal floor. Durwood bought her a mat next time he stopped for gas.

They reached Chickasaw the following morning. Crossing the city limit, they saw fields of wheat and corn, and grain elevators, and dry dusty homesteads. Factories burped smoke farther on. Billboards shilled for some dentist, somebody else who wanted to be sheriff.

Downtown Chickasaw was a grid, eight blocks square. Durwood saw the turf field mentioned in the letter and smiled. A boarded-up building with a sign reading, Lyles Community Outreach Center. A fancy hotel that looked out of place.

Next door to City Hall, Durwood’s destination, was a coffee shop called Peaceful Beans. The logo showed the name written along the stems of the peace sign. The light bulbs inside had those squiggly vintage filaments.

Durwood knew that these towns, rural or not, had all types. You got your vegan yoga instructors living next to redneck truckers—sometimes married to each other.

City Hall itself was a stone structure, two stories high. A sign indicated the municipal jail was located in the basement.

Durwood parked. His bones creaked as he stepped from the van and stretched.

The woman working reception cooed at Sue, who’d rolled over on her back. The big ham. Durwood stated their business, declared his M9, and passed through a metal detector before being shown to the mayor’s office.

Carol Bridges stood from her desk with a humble smile. “Mr. Oak Jones, thank you for traveling all this way for our town.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Call me Durwood, please.”

She said she would and handed him a business card with her personal number circled. Durwood placed the card in his bluejeans pocket. The mayor gestured to an armchair whose upholstery had worn thin. Durwood, removing his hat, sat.

“My dog goes where I go, generally,” he explained. “She can sit outside if need be.”

“Don’t be silly.” The mayor reached into a drawer of her desk for a biscuit. “If I’d known, I’d have brought in my German Shepherd.”

She didn’t just toss the biscuit at Sue, as some will. Carol Bridges commanded the dog to sit first.

Sue sat.

The mayor squatted and offered the treat, palm up, her knees pinching below a dark skirt. Sue wolfed it down.

Durwood said, “We saw the factories on the way in. How many employees?”

“Forty-four hundred on the floors themselves,” she said. “Plus another eight thousand in support roles.”

“And it’s all going away? Vamoose?”

Carol Bridges crossed one leg over the other. “That’s how the winds are blowing.”

She expanded upon what the letter had said. For the better part of a century, Hogan Consolidated had produced parts for various household products. Brackets. Pot handles. Stepladder hinges. Nothing sexy, Carol Bridges said, but quality components that filled a need higher up the supply chain.

Five or six years back, Wall Street began taking an interest in the company. They believed Hogan was underleveraged and growing too slowly.

Durwood stopped her. “What does underleveraged mean?”

“As I understand”—the mayor fluffed her dark red hair dubiously—“it means you aren’t taking enough risks. Your balance sheet is too conservative.”

“Too conservative?”

“Right. You’re not expanding into new markets. You’re not inventing new products.”

Durwood rolled her words around his head. “Suppose you’re good at what you do, and that’s it.”

Carol Bridges looked out her window toward a pair of smokestacks. “Not good enough for Wall Street.”

Thoughts of finance or economics usually gave Durwood a headache, but he made himself consider the particulars of the case now.

“But Hogan’s a family-owned company,” he said. “Can’t they tell Wall Street to go to hell? Pardon my French.”

“They were family-owned up until 1972, when they sold out.”

Durwood sat up in his chair, recalling her letter.

She seemed to read his thoughts. “They’re a family-run company. The CEO’s always been a Hogan, but the equity is publicly traded.”

“Hm.” Durwood’s head wasn’t aching, but it didn’t feel quite right either. “I read your letter different.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to be unclear.” The mayor took a step out from behind her desk. “I hope you don’t feel I brought you here on false pretenses.”

They looked at each other. The woman’s face tipped sympathetically and flushed, her eyes wide with concern. On the wall behind her hung the Iraq Campaign Medal and the striped ribbon indicating combat action.

“It’s fine,” Durwood said. “And they’re facing lawsuits, you said?”

“Correct,” the mayor said. “A class-action suit has been filed by customers claiming injury as a result of faulty Hogan parts.”

“What happened?”

“A woman in New Jersey’s toaster exploded. They’ve got two people in California saying a bad Hogan hinge caused them to fall. One broke her wrist.”

“Her wrist.”

Carol Bridges nodded.

“Falling off a stepladder?”

She nodded again.

“What’re the Hogans doing?” Durwood asked. “They have a strategy to stomp out this nonsense?”

“No idea. I hear, just scuttlebutt from the cafe, that the company’s going bankrupt.” The mayor flung out an arm. “Somebody else says they’re selling out to a private equity firm—one of these outfits that buys distressed companies for peanuts and parts ’em out, auctions off the assets and fires all the workers.”

Durwood leaned over the thighs of his bluejeans. “You mentioned the CEO in your letter. Eats sushi.”

The woman smiled. “Jay Hogan, yes. He’s only twenty-eight, and I don’t think he likes living in Chickasaw much. He went to college at Dartmouth.”

“Whereabouts is that?”

“Dartmouth?”

Durwood nodded. He’d once met an arms supplier in Dortmund, Germany, the time he and Quaid Rafferty had stopped a band of disgruntled sausage vendors from bombing ten soccer stadiums simultaneously. He’d never heard of Dartmouth.

Carol Bridges said, “New Hampshire.”

“If he doesn’t like the place,” Durwood said, “why didn’t he stay east? Work a city job?”

She crossed her legs again. “I doubt he could get one. Around here, he was a screw-up. They got him for drunk driving regularly. I was with the prosecutor’s office back then. The police winched him out of the same gully four different times in his dad’s Hummer.”

“Why’d they pick him for CEO?”

“He’s an only child. When the father had his stroke, Jay was next in line. Only pitcher left in the bullpen.”

Durwood drew in a long breath. “Now the fate of the whole town rests on his shoulders. Fella couldn’t keep a five-thousand-pound vehicle on the road.”

Carol Bridges nodded.

Durwood felt comfortable talking to this woman. As comfortable as he’d felt with a woman since Maybelle, his wife and soulmate, had passed in Tikrit. Carol Bridges didn’t embellish. She didn’t say one thing but mean another—leaving aside the misunderstanding over “family-run,” which might well have been Durwood’s fault.

Still, comfort didn’t make a case.

“I sympathize, Miss Bridges,” Durwood said. “I do. But I’m a simple man. The sort of business I’m trained for is combat. Apprehending suspects. Pursuing retribution that can’t be pursued within the confines of the law. This situation calls for expertise I don’t have.”

He’d delivered bad news, but Carol Bridges didn’t seem upset. She was smiling again.

“I have to disagree,” she said.

“You need somebody knows their way around corporate law. Knows how to—”

“You’re not a simple man. There’s a lot up there”—her warm eyes rose to his head—“that doesn’t translate into words.”

Durwood held her gaze a moment. Then he looked down to Sue-Ann.

The dog was sleeping.

He said, “America is changing. For better or worse. A town like Chickasaw doesn’t get the better end of it, I understand. There’s injustice in that. But it’s not the sort I can stop.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting you can deliver us back to the 1970s.”

Carol Bridges laced her fingers over her dark red hair. A funny thing was happening with her mouth. Was she chewing gum? No, that wasn’t it. Using her tongue to work a piece of food out from between her teeth? Durwood didn’t think so either.

She was smirking.

“All I’m asking,” she said, “on behalf of my town, is this: talk to Jay Hogan. Get a straight answer out of him. I can’t, I’ve tried. The rest of the Hogans live in Vail or Tuscany. We need somebody who can cut through the bull and find out the truth.”

Durwood repeated, “The truth.”

“Yes. If the jobs are going away, if I need to retrain my citizenry to…” She searched around her desktop for some example—pencils, folders, a stapler. “Heck, answer customer-service calls? I will. But we want to know.”

Sue-Ann snored and resettled against Durwood’s boot.

He said, “Talk to Jay Hogan.”

The mayor clasped her hands hopefully over her chest. “That’s all I’m asking. Find out where we stand.”

Durwood thought about the crop fields he’d seen riding into town. The dusty homesteads. The billboards—the dentist, man who wanted to be sheriff. He thought of the factories still putting out smoke. For now.

The stakes were lower than what he fought for alongside Quaid and Molly McGill with Third Chance Enterprises. The planet itself was not imperiled. He wasn’t likely to face exotic technologies or need to jump from moving aircraft. So it went with these injustice cases—with injustice in general. Ordinary folks suffering ordinary hardship.

“We did drive a couple thousand miles,” he said. “I suppose it makes sense to stay and have a word with Mr. Hogan.”

Carol Bridges rushed forward and pressed his calloused hands in her smooth ones. She gave him the address of Hogan Consolidated from memory.

Chapter Three

Hogan’s main factory and corporate headquarters were in the same building. Durwood parked in a Visitors spot, and he and Sue walked up to the fifth floor where the executive offices were—over the factory. Stairs were murder on the dog’s hip, but she persevered. Durwood stopped every few steps for her.

Through the stairwell’s glass wall, he watched the assembly line. Men and women in hardhats leaned into machine handles. A foreman frowned at a clipboard. Belts and treads and rotors turned. Even behind glass, Durwood could smell grease.

Nothing amiss here.

On the fifth floor, Durwood consulted a directory to find Jay Hogan’s office.

His secretary wore nicer clothes than Carol Bridges. Looking at her neat painted fingernails, Durwood doubted she kept dog biscuits in her desk.

“You—you honestly thought bringing a dog to see the chief executive of Hogan Consolidated was acceptable?” the woman said, looking at Sue’s spots like they were open sores. “OSHA would have a field day if they showed up now.”

Sue-Ann laid her chin on her paws.

Durwood said, “She can stay here while I see Mr. Hogan.”

The woman’s nameplate read Priscilla Baird. Durwood suspected she’d be taller than him if she stood. Her lips were tight, trembling like she was about to eject Durwood and Sue—or flee herself.

“I don’t know that you will see Mr. Hogan today,” she said. “You’re not on his schedule. Jones, did you say?”

She checked her screen.

“Won’t find me in your computer,” Durwood said. “Is he here?”

Priscilla Baird glanced at her boss’s door, which was closed.

“He is…on site. But I’m not at liberty to say when he’d be available to speak with arbitrary members of the public.”

“I’m not arbitrary. I’m here on authority of the mayor.”

“The mayor?”

“Of Chickasaw, yes ma’am. Carol Bridges.”

Priscilla Baird rolled her eyes at this. Durwood thought he heard, “Getting desperate” under the woman’s breath.

Durwood waited. After thirty minutes, he tired of Priscilla Baird’s dirty looks and took Sue-Ann out to the van. She didn’t like dogs, fine. He wouldn’t be difficult just for the sake of it.

He returned to wait more. The lobby had an exposed beam running down its center—pimpled, showy. Folks built like that nowadays. Slate walls displayed oil paintings of the company’s executives. Sitting out on tables were US Weekly and Field and Stream. Durwood read neither. He spent the time thinking what questions to ask Jay Hogan.

All told, he waited an hour and a half. Others entered and were admitted to see Hogan. Men wearing pinstripes. A made-up woman in her late forties with a couple minions hustling after her. Some kid in a ballcap and shorts carrying two plastic bags.

The kid left Hogan’s office without his bags.

Durwood caught him at the door. “Pardon, youngster. What did you drop off?”

The kid ducked so Durwood could read his hat.

Crepes-a-Go-Go.

An involuntary growl escaped Durwood’s mouth. He crossed to Jay Hogan’s door.

“Excuse me,” Priscilla Baird said. “Mr. Hogan’s schedule today is terribly tight, you’ll need to be patient if—”

“It just opened up,” Durwood said.

He jerked the knob and blew inside. Jay Hogan was stuffing a crepe into his face with a plastic fork. Ham and some cheese that stank. The corner of his mouth had a red smear, either ketchup or raspberry jam.

Probably jam.

“The hell is this?” Hogan said. “You—what…Priscilla…” He placed a hand over his scrawny chest and finished swallowing. “Who is this person?”

Priscilla Baird rushed to the door. “I never admitted him, he went himself. He forced his way in!”

Durwood stood in the center of the office. He said to Hogan, “Let’s talk, the two of us.”

The young CEO considered the proposal. He was holding his crepe one-handed and didn’t seem to know where to set it down. He looked at his secretary. He looked at Durwood. His hair was slicked back with Pennzoil, skin alabaster white—a shade you’d have to stay inside to keep in southwest Texas.

Durwood extended his hand. “I can hold your pancake.”

Jay Hogan stiffened at the remark. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Durwood Oak Jones.”

Hogan tried saying it himself. “Duuurwood, is it?”

“Correct.” Durwood assumed Jay Hogan, like the mayor, wasn’t a Soldier of Fortune subscriber. “I’m a concerned party.”

“What does that mean?” Hogan said. “Concerned about what?”

“About this town. About the financial standing of your company.”

As Priscilla Baird excused herself, Durwood explained his contact to date with Carol Bridges and the capacity in which he’d come: to investigate and combat injustice. There was no reason he and Jay Hogan shouldn’t be on the same side. If the lawyers were fleecing Hogan Consolidated or Wall Street sharks were sabotaging it, Durwood’s help should be appreciated.

But Jay Hogan wasn’t rolling out the welcome wagon.

Injustice?” he sneered. “The company’s in a crap situation, a real hole. Not my fault. I didn’t build those hinges. I didn’t, you know, invent P/E ratios or whatever other metrics we aren’t hitting.”

Durwood glared across the desk. Every not and didn’t stuck in his craw.

He said, “What do you do, then?”

“I chart the course,” Hogan said. “I set the top-line strategy.”

“Top-line?”

“Yes. Top-line.”

Durwood resettled his hat on his head. “Thought the bottom line was the important one.”

Jay Hogan made a sound between flatulence and a pig’s snort. “Look—we’ve held the line on wages, kept the unions out. Done everything in our power to stay competitive.”

Durwood asked what his strategy was on those lawsuits.

“Chester handles legal matters,” Hogan said.

“Who’s that?”

“Chester is the COO.”

Durwood raised a finger, counting out letters. “Now what’s the difference between CEO and COO?”

Jay Hogan made impatient motions with his hands. “The COO is the operating officer. He’s more involved in day-to-day business.”

“Who deals with Wall Street? The money men?”

“Chester.”

“Who handles communication? Getting word out to the citizens of Chickasaw about what’s going on?”

Hogan picked up his crepe again. “Chester.”

He said the name—which was prissy to begin with—in a nasal, superior tone.

Durwood’s fist balled at his side. “Fella must be sharp, you trust him with all that.”

“Chester’s extremely smart,” Hogan said. “I’ve known him forever—our families go back generations. We attended all the same boarding schools.”

“Boyhood chums?”

Hogan frowned at the question. “Something like that.”

“He’s about your age, then?”

Hogan nodded.

“Couple twenty-eight-year-olds running a company that dictates the fate of a whole town.” Durwood folded his arms. “Sound fair to you?”

The CEO’s pale cheeks colored. “They’re lucky to have us. Two Ivy League graduates blessed with business instincts. Chester Lyles was president of our fraternity, graduated magna cum laude. We could be founding startups in Seattle or San Francisco where you don’t have to drive a hundred miles for decent food.”

That name rung a bell somewhere for Durwood.

Lyles.

Recalling what Carol Bridges had said about the gully, he said, “You graduate magna cum laude?”

“I don’t need to defend my qualifications to you or anyone.”

Durwood nodded. “Must’ve just missed.”

Jay Hogan stood up a snit. He looked at his crepe again in its tissue-paper sleeve and couldn’t resist. He took a quick bite and thrust a finger at the door, mouth full.

“I’m done answering your questions,” he said. “As CEO, I’m accountable to a shareholder-elected board of directors, which includes presidents of other corporations, a former Treasury Secretary of the United States, and several other prominent executives. They’re satisfied with my performance.”

“How many of them live in Chickasaw?”

Hogan barked a laugh. “They understand the financial headwinds I’m up against.”

“How about those bad hinges? From what I hear, Hogan used to make quality parts.”

“Another Chester question. I don’t deal with quality control.”

That’s for sure.

Durwood saw he would get nowhere with Jay Hogan. This Chester was who he needed to find. Asking this one how the town of Chickasaw was going to shake out was like inspecting your John Deere’s hood ornament to judge if you needed a new tractor.

Hogan was still pointing at the door. Finally, Durwood obliged him.

On the way out, he said, “You got families counting on this company. Families with children, mortgages, sick grandmas. They’re counting on you. Hogans before you did their part. Now be a man, do yours. Rise to your duty.”

Hogan didn’t answer. He had more crepe in his mouth.

Walking down to the parking lot, Durwood passed the factory again. It was dark—the shift had ended while he’d been waiting for Hogan. His boots clacked around the stairwell in solitude.

He considered what ailed Hogan Consolidated and whether he could fix it. He wasn’t optimistic. Oh, he could poke around and get the scoop on Chester Lyles. He could do his best working around the lies and evasions he’d surely encounter. Maybe he would find Chester’s or Jay Hogan’s hand in the cookie jar.

The likeliest culprit, though, was plain old incompetence. Jay Hogan belonged in an insurance office someplace—preferably far from the scissors. Instead, he sat in a corner office of a multi-million dollar company.

Did that rise to the level of injustice? Maybe. Maybe, with so many lives and livelihoods at stake.

Durwood didn’t like cases he had to talk himself into.

He was just imagining how he’d break the news to Carol Bridges if nothing much came of Chester when four men burst from the shadows and tackled him.

***

Excerpt from Dear Durwood by Jeff Bond. Copyright 2020 by Jeff Bond. Reproduced with permission from Jeff Bond. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Jeff Bond

Jeff Bond is an American author of popular fiction. His books have been featured in The New York Review of Books, and his 2020 release, The Pinebox Vendetta, received the gold medal (top prize) in the 2020 Independent Publisher Book Awards. A Kansas native and Yale graduate, he now lives in Michigan with his wife and two daughters.

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Canoeing in the Wilds – Scapegoat by Pamela Fagan Hutchins @pameloth

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Woo Hoo. Back in the ‘saddle’ again with the Flint family…and this time, we are off to some canoeing…and so much more…

Scapegoat: A Patrick Flint Novel

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

Vacation. Family. Wilderness. What could possible go wrong? Knowing the Flint family, if it wasn’t for bad luck, they would have no luck at all…and I am ready for the adventure.

I have been hanging out with the Flint family for some time now and I can vouch for the fact there is never a dull moment and I do foresee a dead body in their immediate future.

I love the fact that they are a tight family, even through all the trials and tribulations that seem to come their way. They may bicker and hurt feelings may come into play, but beware those who try to come between them or do them harm.

Patrick is still madly in love with his wife. He is amazed at how much his son has grown, losing his boyishness and seeing who he will be as a young man. Trish, his daughter is developing into a young woman, who he will have to keep his eye on, maybe even fight the boys off. They will all be put to the test…along with a little unexpected help.

We always have peripheral friends and family who have an important part to play, and I am sorry to see that Wes will not be with us on this trip.

Patrick loves nature and Indian culture. He’s studies about the area before he ever arrives. He is a doctor and does his best to be prepared for anything that may come their way. He will do whatever is necessary to protect his family.

The Flint families vacation may start out with the best intentions on Patrick’s part, spending time together, enjoying nature and the activities that abound, a chance to explore and try new things…but life throws pitfalls right and left from the very beginning, which makes for a lot of laughter, danger, and uninvited guests who wish them harm. They may dodge one bullet, only to go around the next bend in the river and find another.

Pamela Fagan Hutchins brings to life their surroundings through her descriptions, making me hear the river, feel the breeze, smell the scents around us, bringing to mind the times I have spent in the wilderness myself.

Pamela Fagan Hutchins draws from her personal life and their adventures to write her western mysteries. Her writing involves real life people and it’s a good thing her family and friends are on board, because it gives a sense of realism to her writing. Life is not all fun and games and the normal fits and starts of family come through.

I highly recommend the Flint series and checking out her website to see her inspiration.

I voluntarily reviewed an ARC of Scapegoat by Pamela Fagan Hutchins.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

Coming October 15, 2020—pre-order to lock in your copy now!

Patrick Flint meets The River Wild

When his son is critically injured on a river trip, Patrick Flint finds himself in a race against time and a gang of outlaws who are determined the Flints won’t make it out of Wyoming’s Gros Ventre Wilderness alive.

ABOUT PAMELA FAGA HUTCHINS

Pamela Fagan Hutchins

I like big butts and I cannot lie: horse butts that is. As in draft cross horses, which I ride with my hunky husband way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY and deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX. I am a wannabe barrel racer afraid of going fast, an eater of ribeye, and the author of the USA Today bestselling What Doesn’t Kill You world of romantic mysteries.

{By the way, to get free exclusives, first looks, and special deals with my newsletter, go to https://bit.ly/pamelaNL.}

When I’m not writing or riding, I’m passionate about hiking, always with a couple of rescue dogs (and an occasional goat and donkey), bear spray, a mountain lion knife, and my Judge. NO ANIMALS HAVE BEEN HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS LIFE ADVENTURE (but don’t sneak up on me).

I like big butts and I cannot lie: horse butts that is. As in draft cross horses, which I ride with my hunky husband way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY and deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX. I am a wannabe barrel racer afraid of going fast, an eater of ribeye, and the author of the USA Today bestselling What Doesn’t Kill You world of romantic mysteries.

I’ve made some lists and won some awards, yada yada. 2018 USA Today Bestseller. 2018 #1 Amazon Bestseller. 2018 Top 50 Amazon Author (Romantic Mystery, Romantic Suspense). The 2017 Silver Falchion for Best Adult Mystery WINNER (Fighting for Anna), the 2016 and 2015 WINNERS for USA Best Books Fiction: Cross Genre (Hell to Pay, Heaven to Betsy), and others. With downloads of nearly 2,000,000 for the What Doesn’t Kill You world, readers seem to enjoy my smart, sassy female sleuths—I think they have exceptionally good taste. {insert silly grin here} Lots of them follow my podcast, too, where I fangirl my favorite authors and interview them for your listening pleasure.

If after all that you still want to learn more about my books, my podcast, or me, then God Bless Ya, and do drop in on my website, http://pamelafaganhutchins.com.

Website  /  Twitter  /  Facebook

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Giveaway – A Convenient Escape by Sara R Turnquist @sarat1701 @GoddessFish

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Sara R. Turnquist will be awarding a $30 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

She has nowhere to go. He has nothing to lose.

Lily McAllen has known nothing but hardship and rejection. Her brother, the only person she can lean on, takes a job at the Miller ranch. Now with no ally, she is alone, confined, and vulnerable. She becomes desperate to get away…by any means necessary.

Despite his best intentions, Daniel Hayworth is drawn into a fatal mishap. He feels responsible. And is prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure Lily is cared for…even if that means proposing marriage.

Complicating matters, Geronimo and his raiding band terrorize the surrounding areas. Troubles mount and tensions challenge the growing attraction between Dan and Lily.

Will they make it to the church? Or find themselves victims of lies, disillusionment, or the ire of an Apache rebel?

Read an Excerpt:

She prayed he would not pull back. Why would she do so? Why did she wish him to be near? Why did that seem important?

As if answering her prayer, he leaned closer. “That’s just not possible.”

She clenched her hands. “Why not?” The words did not have much force behind them.

“Just…trust me.” His words were clipped.

The manner of his tone sliced through her, stinging as it cut. Her fight against her tears became futile. And one escape.

Why would he be so insistent? Was there something he didn’t trust her with?

Dan covered her hands with his larger ones. “Lily, I…”

What did he care to say? Would he speak things that would endear him to her? She should not listen, yet she waited.

“I only want to do the best I can by you. For you.”

This time it was she who sought his regard while he looked downward.

He continued, “I can’t do that if you won’t trust me.”

In the silence of the moments that followed, she considered his words. And she knew he had been right—there must be some give and take. And he wasn’t asking for much. Only hurt had kept her from seeing it.

She didn’t have ground to stand on anyway. The truth was she had nothing. No one. And nowhere to go. He had been and was being generous. This offer was a gift.

Nodding, she slid a thumb over one of his fingers.

He peered up at her, meeting her gaze at last.

The velvety brown she found there was so soft and deep that the world melted away. Her heartbeat slowed.

Perhaps her trust wasn’t for nothing.

About the Author:
Sara is a coffee lovin’, word slinging, Historical Romance author whose super power is converting caffeine into novels. She loves those odd little tidbits of history that are stranger than fiction. That’s what inspires her. Well, that and a good love story.

But of all the love stories she knows, hers is her favorite. She lives happily with her own Prince Charming and their gaggle of minions. Three to be exact. They sure know how to distract a writer! But, alas, the stories must be written, even if it must happen in the wee hours of the morning.

Sara is an avid reader and enjoys reading and writing clean Historical Romance when she’s not traveling. Her books range from the Czech lands to the American wild west and from ancient Egypt to the early 1900s. Some of her titles include The Lady Bornekova, Hope in Cripple Creek, The General’s Wife, Trail of Fears, and the Convenient Risk Series.

Happy Reading!

Website: http://saraturnquist.com/
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FREEBIE FRIDAYS from Pamela Ackerson @pamackerson @SDSXXTours

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Wounded Heroes Anthology
Genre: Contemporary Military Romance
with stories by
Pamela Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, Nia Farell
Five Degrees of heartwarming to melting stories ─ Five stand-alone love stories with swoon-worthy heroes that will leave you breathless from award-winning International, USA Today, and Amazon bestselling authors Pamela Ackerson, Debra Parmley, Teri Riggs, Maggie Adams, and Nia Farrell.
* A Rosa for Russell ~ Who in their right mind falls in love with the enemy?
** Two Step, New Steps ~ Wounded cop Len Yardley doesn’t expect to find love while he’s healing from a gunshot wound but the air force veteran can’t help falling for perky Leanne Bobbin who brings out his protective instincts and makes him laugh.
*** Bringing Her Home ~ Can Thomas Raintree bring home the woman he loves, but had to leave behind?
**** As Time Goes By ~ Blake’s determined to find out who killed his best friend, and his widow holds the key …not only to the murder, but also to Blake’s heart.
***** Fallen ~ An Army chaplain priest’s faith is tested when he falls for his PTSD therapist.
**Only .99 cents!!**
I Was Just a Radioman
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Memoir
Their hearts were strong, and their courage endless.
Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat radioman, and decorated WW 2 veteran. ARM H. P. Lawrence, tells the true story of the fight against the Japanese in this compilation of his memoirs.
One of only a handful of non-Native American code-talkers, H. P. Lawrence became a member of an elite fighting force, the Black Cats. Flying in their nocturnal missions, the Cats claws were sharp and their aim deadly.
From devastation to victory, the story of these brave men−the deadly, mysterious, and illusive Black Cats is a journey into the past where nightmares came true and hatred reigned. A time in history we should never, ever forget.
The day which will live in infamy…was just the beginning.
Grab your copy today.
**Get it FREE April 9th & 10th !!**
Garrett’s Ghost
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Time Travel Western
What’s a time traveling Texas Ranger supposed to do?
Garrett Houston is being harassed by a ghost. Trouble is brewing and her name is Margarite. She’s an unrelenting force determined to get his attention. It may be too late for her, but if she could get him to listen, she may be able to save some lives.
A story of unrequited love, the power of healing, and the embracing need to never give up. Unforgettable moments and unforgettable characters will tug at the heartstrings with a myriad of emotions.
Garrett’s Ghost is a touching story brimming with down-home Texas charm.
**Get it FREE April 16th & 17th !!**
Across the Wilderness
The Wilderness Series Book 1
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Time Travel Western
Stories that stir within us the unquenchable hope for a better tomorrow.
Pamela Ackerson delivers all the passion that fans of this Native American, historical, time travel series have come to love. With unforgettable characters, she has enchanted readers with adventure and love that has spanned across the essence of time.
This is the story that started it all, introducing the Wilderness time travel series, a timeless, spellbinding novel of passion and richly detailed history that delightfully comes alive in an exhilarating adventure with a love story that spans across the ages.
The mysterious dreams had become a reality. Traveling through time, Dr. Karen Anderson found herself in the land of the Lakota, in the midst of the Indian wars, and the movement west. Swept into the arms of the dark-haired warrior, Standing Deer, from her modern-day hustle and bustle to the temporary serenity of life on the Plains…over the span of time, they fight for yesterday and together find the promise of tomorrow.
**Get it FREE April 23rd & 24th !!**
The Gingerbread House
The PI Time Travel Series
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Time Travel Romance
Falling in love was not on her to-do list.
Left in debt after the tragic death of her husband, Tricia Adams struggled to keep a roof over her family’s heads. With the help of the Grandmothers Four, she’d finally gotten everything under control.She was happy and more comfortable than she’d been in years. When Carol’s son, Eric Elliott, agreed to help renovate the guest house, mysterious and things began to happen. The dashing and handsome man held a bowl full of secrets, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.What could possibly go wrong?
The PI series books are all stand-alone. Grab your copy today.
**Get it FREE April 30th & May 1st !!**
Into the Wilderness
The Wilderness Series Book 2
by Pamela Ackerson
Genre: Time Travel Western
The time-travel saga continues with book 2.
A magnificent timeless adventure that tugs at the heart, weighs the soul, and measures the human strength and spirit. The Wilderness time travel series continues with this historically detailed story of love, war, and fantastic adventure.
Dr. Karen Anderson returns to the past, to the Lakota and her life with Standing Deer. The Little Big Horn Battle – Custer’s Last Stand looms, ending a lifestyle the People have always known. Over the span of time, they fight for freedom and the promise of tomorrow.
**Get it FREE May 7th & 8th !!**
Pamela Ackerson’s storytelling all began with her younger brother, creating wonderful children’s stories on vacation trips to keep him occupied. Later, she started writing poems and short stories as a teen.
Born and raised in Newport, RI where history is a way of life, Pam lives on the Space Coast of Florida where you are encourage to reach for the stars. She’s just a hop, skip, and jump from Orlando and Disney World, where imagination and fantasy abounds. She has three children, all girls, three grandchildren, and a wonderful husband who puts up with her writer quirks.
Pam may have majored in child psychology with a minor in English, but her distinguished choice of careers never made fruition. Instead, life led her to working in restaurants, interior decorating, owning an advertising business, content editor for a publishing house, teaching and owning a ballroom dance studio, and real estate investments. She is a practicing herbalist and has been involved in the use of natural treatment with raw herbs for over thirty years. As her day job, she currently works as the V.P. of Marketing and Advertising for the book review magazine, Affaire de Coeur.
$10 Amazon – 3 winners!
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  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Western Mystery – Sawbones by Pamela Fagan Hutchins @pameloth

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Woo Hoo…back on another wild adventure with the Flint family. Saddle up and let’s get a move on.

Sawbones: A Patrick Flint Novel

Amazon / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

I am so happy to be back with the Flint family and I know there will be a dangerous adventure ahead for all of us.

“Skiing give me a headache.” Her teeth chattered. “These clothes aren’t waterproof. I’m freezing and I can’t get up.”

Even though Pamela Fagan Hutchins puts her characters through some hair raising experiences, we do have some light, fun moments.

No one said you had to know how to ski to help an inured skier and that’s how the family ended up on the hill.

Perry may be on the small side, but he is no stranger to danger and able to hold his own. He took to skiing like a duck to water, until…

The point of view switches to each character, sharing their take on the situation. I love seeing it from their perspective. It makes it easier to relate to them, care about them.

Trisha is really hot for Brandon, a character whose family does not wish the Flint family well. I don’t want to explain a lot about the situation, because if you haven’t read the first books in the series, it would ruin it for you. Suffice it to say, I don’t think much of him and sincerely hope that she will see who he truly is.

I love the cougar showing up, even bringing her cub to ‘meet’ Patrick. Could she be his spirit animal. Living in Wyoming, he has learned a lot about Indian culture and has an open mind.

Politics rears its ugly head and Patrick’s life gets even more complicated. I worry at every turn, especially for Trisha. She is rash, in love, and reckless, with brief moments of inisght.

I would say this is a coming of age novel, because Trisha and Perry will be making leaps in becoming the adults they are meant to be. They are learning some costly lessons of love and trust. Sawbones is also a mystery, because there are characters with sinister and deadly intent…and that leads to never a dull moment in the Flint household.

I love that the series truly comes from her heart.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

When a killer threatens his family before their testimony in a capital murder trial, Patrick Flint will do anything to keep them safe.

“Best book I’ve read in a long time!” — Kiersten Marquet, author of Three Reluctant Promises

“A roller-coaster ride from the first page to the last!” — Merry, Amazon reader

A peaceful day of skiing for the family. The murder of a prominent judge’s wife. A witness becomes the next target: thirteen-year-old Perry Flint.

Patrick, his wife Susanne, and their kids head to the mountains for a day of skiing. At the lodge, thirteen-year-old Perry is the sole eyewitness to the murder of a prominent judge’s wife, only days before the first capital murder trial in the state of Wyoming since its reinstatement by the U.S. Supreme Court. Meanwhile, Susanne and Trish are gearing up to testify against ruthless killer Billy Kemecke at the trial, unless his criminal family can stop them first. With his family threatened from all sides, Patrick Flint will do anything to keep them safe.

Sawbones is the third book in the suspenseful Patrick Flint series of thrilling mysteries, a spin-off from the What Doesn’t Kill You saga. Available in digital, print, and audiobook.

If you like C.J. Box or Craig Johnson, you will love USA Today Best Seller Pamela Fagan Hutchins’ Patrick Flint series. A former attorney, Pamela splits her time between Snoweresville, WY and Nowheresville, TX.

ABOUT PAMELA FAGA HUTCHINS

Pamela Fagan Hutchins

I like big butts and I cannot lie: horse butts that is. As in draft cross horses, which I ride with my hunky husband way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY and deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX. I am a wannabe barrel racer afraid of going fast, an eater of ribeye, and the author of the USA Today bestselling What Doesn’t Kill You world of romantic mysteries.

{By the way, to get free exclusives, first looks, and special deals with my newsletter, go to https://bit.ly/pamelaNL.}

When I’m not writing or riding, I’m passionate about hiking, always with a couple of rescue dogs (and an occasional goat and donkey), bear spray, a mountain lion knife, and my Judge. NO ANIMALS HAVE BEEN HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS LIFE ADVENTURE (but don’t sneak up on me).

I like big butts and I cannot lie: horse butts that is. As in draft cross horses, which I ride with my hunky husband way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY and deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX. I am a wannabe barrel racer afraid of going fast, an eater of ribeye, and the author of the USA Today bestselling What Doesn’t Kill You world of romantic mysteries.

I’ve made some lists and won some awards, yada yada. 2018 USA Today Bestseller. 2018 #1 Amazon Bestseller. 2018 Top 50 Amazon Author (Romantic Mystery, Romantic Suspense). The 2017 Silver Falchion for Best Adult Mystery WINNER (Fighting for Anna), the 2016 and 2015 WINNERS for USA Best Books Fiction: Cross Genre (Hell to Pay, Heaven to Betsy), and others. With downloads of nearly 2,000,000 for the What Doesn’t Kill You world, readers seem to enjoy my smart, sassy female sleuths—I think they have exceptionally good taste. {insert silly grin here} Lots of them follow my podcast, too, where I fangirl my favorite authors and interview them for your listening pleasure.

If after all that you still want to learn more about my books, my podcast, or me, then God Bless Ya, and do drop in on my website, http://pamelafaganhutchins.com.

Website  /  Twitter  /  Facebook

MY PAMELA FAGAN HUTCHINS REVIEWS

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Murder & Mysticism – Snake Oil by Pamela Fagan Hutchins @pameloth

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Snake Oil is Book II in the Patrick Flint series. I am ready for another adventure, knowing trouble will always find him and his wife will come to his rescue. A man is only as strong as the woman behind him. LOL

Snake Oil: A Patrick Flint Novel

Amazon / Audiobook / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

A blizzard…oh yeah. I love a book that starts out with some natural disaster. And with Patrick Flint, I know there is trouble on the way

Patrick Flint is a doctor that goes above and beyond his duty. Today he is on his way to the Wind River Indian Reservation, while Susanne is having the family in for Christmas and dealing with her teenage daughter’s love life… Brandon plays a part in the first book of the series, Switchback, so I won’t tell you his story. Pamela Fagan Hutchins does highlight the events, so you miss nothing, except another wonderful love story with some mystery thrown in. Each book can stand alone.

I do love when an author includes some native mysticism.

A life is taken, a life is born.

Due to the blizzard, Susanne is unable to contact Patrick. He is trapped in town with no phone, no internet, no way to let her know he arrived and is okay. That’s all right, though. Susanne is coming to the rescue…along with the family, mom, dad, son, daughter, and a stowaway.

I love this feisty, courageous wife and mother.

I am loving this series that is loosely based on Pamela Fagan Hutchins personal life. I guess that’s why the characters come through as authentic and real.

There are so many suspects, I can’t find the guilty party. I love when an author keeps me guessing.

Pamela Fagan Hutchins’ writing is easy to read and engrossing, with a mystery that grows on every page and true to life characters that mature and develop throughout each book. I look forward to finding out what will happen next, seeing Patrick Flint’s middle name should be Trouble, with a capital T. LOL

A man is only as strong as the woman behind him. LOL

I voluntarily reviewed an ARC of Snake Oil by Pamela Fagan Hutchins.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

From USA Today bestselling author Pamela Fagan Hutchins, the second in a series of thrilling Western mystery novels.

A doctor on a quest to make a difference. A flirty widow with a suspiciously dead husband. Stranded on the Wind River Indian Reservation in a deadly blizzard, Patrick Flint is about to figure out just how much of an outsider he really is.

ABOUT PAMELA FAGA HUTCHINS

Pamela Fagan Hutchins

I like big butts and I cannot lie: horse butts that is. As in draft cross horses, which I ride with my hunky husband way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY and deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX. I am a wannabe barrel racer afraid of going fast, an eater of ribeye, and the author of the USA Today bestselling What Doesn’t Kill You world of romantic mysteries.

{By the way, to get free exclusives, first looks, and special deals with my newsletter, go to https://bit.ly/pamelaNL.}

When I’m not writing or riding, I’m passionate about hiking, always with a couple of rescue dogs (and an occasional goat and donkey), bear spray, a mountain lion knife, and my Judge. NO ANIMALS HAVE BEEN HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS LIFE ADVENTURE (but don’t sneak up on me).

I like big butts and I cannot lie: horse butts that is. As in draft cross horses, which I ride with my hunky husband way up in the frozen north of Snowheresville, WY and deep in the heart of Nowheresville, TX. I am a wannabe barrel racer afraid of going fast, an eater of ribeye, and the author of the USA Today bestselling What Doesn’t Kill You world of romantic mysteries.

I’ve made some lists and won some awards, yada yada. 2018 USA Today Bestseller. 2018 #1 Amazon Bestseller. 2018 Top 50 Amazon Author (Romantic Mystery, Romantic Suspense). The 2017 Silver Falchion for Best Adult Mystery WINNER (Fighting for Anna), the 2016 and 2015 WINNERS for USA Best Books Fiction: Cross Genre (Hell to Pay, Heaven to Betsy), and others. With downloads of nearly 2,000,000 for the What Doesn’t Kill You world, readers seem to enjoy my smart, sassy female sleuths—I think they have exceptionally good taste. {insert silly grin here} Lots of them follow my podcast, too, where I fangirl my favorite authors and interview them for your listening pleasure.

If after all that you still want to learn more about my books, my podcast, or me, then God Bless Ya, and do drop in on my website, http://pamelafaganhutchins.com.

Website  /  Twitter  /  Facebook

MY PAMELA FAGAN HUTCHINS REVIEWS

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!