Sagebrush Bride
by
Tanya Anne Crosby
Historical
Western Romance
Publisher:
Oliver Heber Books
Release
Date: March 13, 2013
Heat
Level: Steamy
Length:
372 pages
Available at:
Description:
Fiercely independent, Elizabeth Bowcock –
“Doc Liz” as she’s known by all -- vows to raise her orphaned niece as her own.
Unfortunately, the child’s grandfather has declared the unwed doctor to be an
unfit guardian and refuses to deliver her to Liz's care until she finds herself
a man...
Enter dark-haired, devil-eyed Cutter
McKenzie. Outcast for his Cheyenne blood, the handsome halfbreed volunteers to
pose as Elizabeth’s husband. But though his wicked sex appeal threatens to
undermine Liz's independence, the road to St. Louis promises even greater
perils…
Warning: This title is intended for
readers over the age of 18 as it contains adult sexual situations and/or adult
language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.
Excerpt:
“Mmmm, mmm,” Cutter murmured, embracing
her as though she were his long-lost kissin’ cuz. “You’re looking better than
ever, gal.”
Elizabeth’s heart jolted violently at the
deep, unfamiliar voice. Warm lips kissed her cheek in a familiar way, taking
just a fraction too long to leave her flushed skin, lingering at her lobe.
She swallowed convulsively.
He whispered in her ear. “Gotta loosen
up, Doc, if you want this to look good... Come on now,” he coaxed, forcing her
weight against him.
His husky voice set Elizabeth’s pulse to
pounding, and her body into sudden paralysis. Powerless to fight him, she let
him adjust her at will. Her legs felt wobbly, her body no more than mush in his
hands.
“That’s it, bright eyes; now turn real
slow,” he whispered, his lips scalding against her face, “act like you’re
damned glad to see me.”
Elizabeth suppressed a helpless shudder
as she worked up the courage to turn, fully intending to slap the britches off
the fool who’d dared to be so intimate with her. But the man who faced her left
her momentarily dazed, her throat too thick to speak.
Good night, but he was tall!
Her eyes refused to lower, but neither
would they move up to his face. She forced them, and found dark hair flowing
from beneath a dun-colored hat.
He cocked a brow at her, amusement
flickering in his black eyes. He winked and she felt her knees go instantly
weak... yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away even as they buckled.
He reached out to steady her, but Elizabeth
continued to gape, helpless to do anything else. The longer she looked, the
more she swore he didn’t have pupils, his eyes were so blessed dark... his face
too tawny... his cheekbones too high. But it was those lips of his that
unnerved her so: insolent, smug, kicked up only slightly at the corners, as
though he couldn’t quite stifle his humor at her expense. His gaze roved,
lazily assessing her, sliding down over her body slowly, seductively, then
returning to her face to bore into her with silent expectation.
He anticipated some reaction from her,
Elizabeth thought dimly, but couldn’t think what—couldn’t think, period.
Staring as though transfixed, she tried to decipher his stony features but
found her brain as useless as her limbs. But it occurred to her in that muddled
moment that maybe he had appraised her with more than a mild interest, and her
pulse quickened at that prospect. No one had ever looked at her in quite that
way.
Not anyone.
Those dark eyes still piercing her, he
raised two fingers to his brim, tipping his hat in greeting as the remnants of
a smile turned the corners of his mouth. “Howdy, Liz,” he said huskily. “It’s
been a mighty long time, gal.”
Long time?
Elizabeth shook her head, denying it, for
if she’d ever set eyes on the man before now, she would have remembered. He
wasn’t the type to be forgotten. Unconsciously she lifted a finger to her
cheek, to the spot where he’d kissed her. Her throat constricted, seeming
suddenly parched, and she licked her lips desperately as they parted to speak.
To her mortification, no words came.
For the first time in her life, Elizabeth
Bowcock found herself dumbstruck. In spite of the man’s amused expression, he
wore an air of menace about him like a second skin, and a tremor shook her as
she averted her gaze to his boots. Dangerous, she thought.
The man was dangerous.
She hadn’t missed the fact that he had
the most vicious-looking revolver she’d ever spied jammed into his gun belt,
but she’d only just spotted the ink black knife hilt peeking over his faded
leather boots. And those boots of his told a tale in themselves, for they were
unmistakably U.S. Cavalry, and ominously inconsistent with his buckskin dress.
There was little comfort in that he didn’t wear his weapons as Dick Brady did,
like cheap jewelry. The fact that he kept his blade concealed and wore his gun
casually, as though it were not there at all, told her all she needed to know.
He was no gun-strutting cowpuncher. He was the real thing. As for the boots,
she could think of a dozen reasons he should be outfitted so, not one of them
reassuring.
A quick, wide-eyed glance to Jo told her
that she was in no immediate danger, however. Jo’s lips lifted at the corners,
and she, too, was on the verge of a smile, her kindly cinnamon eyes warm with
humor.
Not really understanding why she felt
compelled to, Elizabeth decided to play along. “Uh... um...”
Mercy’s sake, she didn’t even know his
name! How was she going to pretend to know him if she didn’t know his blessed
name? In panic, her gaze skidded to Jo.
“Cutter,” Jo supplied with a laugh,
seeming to read Elizabeth’s thoughts. Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “I
believe you have her tongue-tied, brother dear. Reckon she thought she’d never
see you again.” Seeing Elizabeth’s confused expression, she laughed softly.
“Isn’t that right, Liz?”
“Right?” Elizabeth nodded woodenly. Jo’s
brother? “Oh—yes! I did think I’d never see you again!” She nodded dutifully
for the benefit of their audience.
All eyes reverted suspiciously to Cutter,
leaving her somewhat doubtful of her performance. Her brow furrowed.
Warmth invaded his eyes as he gently
chucked her under the chin, much as a brother would a cherished younger sister.
Elizabeth felt suddenly too warm, almost
as though she were being roasted over a slow fire. And the heat of his
fingers... lingered upon her chin long after he’d withdrawn his hand. Mortified
that he could affect her so, she averted her gaze to Brady. He was watching her
with unflinching eyes.
His eyes narrowing to shadowy slits,
Cutter turned to Brady and his men, sending them each an unspoken challenge.
Brady fidgeted, flinging Elizabeth a doubtful look before turning away. The
rest of his outfit followed immediately, slapping one another consolingly on
the shoulder.
Elizabeth’s brows rose as she watched the
exchange, astounded at the ease with which Cutter had handled Brady and his
men. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat like a
spoonful of dry sugar. The man was just too smug for his own good. He’d had no
right to be so familiar with her, but she did owe him her gratitude, no matter
how reluctant it came. “I suppose I should thank you,” she said.
Cutter grinned. “Anytime, Doc.”
About the Author:
Tanya has written seventeen
novels, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including the New
York Times and USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and
humor, and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader
praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two dogs and
two cats in northern Michigan.
Connect
with Tanya Anne Crosby
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