Author: Amy Sandas
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Publication date: 2/26/19
Three
runaway brides
Determined
to escape their fates
Flee
West to find freedom that can only be had in a cowboy’s arms…
Courtney
Adams never questioned the future her parents laid out for her…until the day
she was to marry one of Boston’s elite. Desperate, she flees the church in a
flurry of bridal finery and trades her pearls for a train ticket to
Montana—only to be mistaken for a surly cowboy’s mail order bride!
Dean
Lawton doesn’t want a wife—especially not some fancy Eastern lady he believes
his brother “ordered” behind his back. Yet one mistake leads to another, and
before the dust can settle, he finds himself married to a woman who challenges
him at every step…and sets his wounded heart ablaze. But the clock is ticking
on this marriage of inconvenience, and soon Dean must decide: convince Courtney
to remain in his arms, or lose her light forever…
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EXCERPT
“Is
there a hotel in town where I might procure a room for a few days?”
“Miss
Mabel has a boardinghouse down the road, though I don’t know for sure if she’s
got any open rooms.”
Courtney
smiled her thanks to the postal clerk, already envisioning a quaint but
comfortable room with clean sheets on the bed. Maybe even a hot, tasty meal.
She had given up on finding food that was near the same quality she was
accustomed to, but she would settle for edible and filling right now. She
couldn’t very well expect a rugged town in the Western Territories to provide
the same levels of comfort as a big city back East. She had left Boston in
search of a new life. It was time to embrace all of what that meant.
As
she stepped onto the boardwalk, blinking against the bright summer sunlight,
Courtney didn’t realize she had stepped right into someone’s path until it was
too late.
And
of course, it had to be Mr. Martin.
What
should have been just a very brief bumping of elbows and shoulders became much
more when he took swift advantage of the encounter by wrapping his arms around
her in an exaggerated and unnecessary attempt at steadying her.
Courtney
immediately put her hands up to try to shove him away, but her efforts were
ineffectual. He was intent on holding her close.
“It’s
my lovely traveling companion,” he exclaimed. His face was so close that she
could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “What a pleasure to run into
you again so soon.”
“I
would thank you to release me, sir.”
“Not
yet, sweetheart. I never did get your name.”
“And
you never will. Now let me go,” Courtney stated more forcefully. Her stomach
turned in distress as she glanced around to see if there was anyone who might
come to her aid.
“Let
the lady go.”
Despite
their low timbre, the words were spoken from behind her in such a hard and
forceful tone that Mr. Martin’s grip around her waist loosened as though on
command. She did not waste time in giving a solid push against his chest and
wrenching free. She quickly backed away from Mr. Martin’s grabby reach, which
brought her closer to her unknown rescuer.
Turning
to acknowledge the man who had come to her aid, all she saw was the expanse of
a broad male chest covered by a faded blue cotton shirt. The scents of horse
and leather and sunbaked earth filled her nostrils. Distracted and still a
little distressed, she felt her foot catch in the twisted length of her skirts
on her next step, and she started to stumble. Warm, rough, capable hands
grasped her arms as the stranger held her secure until she regained her
balance. A low sound escaped the man’s throat as his hands dropped away.
“My
apologies,” he muttered as he stepped back from her. The velvety texture of his
voice soothed and flustered at the same time.
Courtney
took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure after the discomfiting
experience of being handled so familiarly first by Mr. Martin and then by the
tall stranger. She wasn’t used to such treatment…but while Mr. Martin’s assistance
had caused only irritation, this stranger certainly deserved her thanks. She
corrected her posture and made sure her expression was perfectly neutral before
she lifted her chin, prepared to utter a swift expression of gratitude.
The
words never made it past her lips.
In
fact, everything—her train of thought, her breath, time itself—just stopped.
The
man stood a few inches taller than her and wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that
blocked the sun, giving her an unimpeded look at one of the most handsome faces
she had ever seen.
His
skin was bronzed from exposure to the sun, and a hint of sandy-brown beard
shadowed a hard jawline and square chin. Though his mouth was pressed into a
firm line, it didn’t disguise the masculine beauty of his arched lips beneath a
well-shaped nose and strong cheekbones. His features were put together in a way
that was rugged yet undeniably attractive.
But
his eyes—pale blue like a summer sky brushed with wispy clouds—were what had
given her the intense little shock of awareness. It was like being woken up
from a hazy dream. Everything just suddenly became more vivid, more…awake. His
gaze held a hint of impatience as he looked down at her from beneath a furrowed
brow.
While
she stood dumbfounded, he swept his stunning gaze over her person.
His
hard expression tensed even more as he took in the sight of her elaborate
wedding gown before finally returning to her face. Only now, instead of
impatience, she saw the glimmer of something more in his eyes.
She
had to consciously tell herself not to react to the way he eyed her so openly.
Keeping her expression calm and unruffled under this man’s intense regard was
not an easy task, especially now that she was dealing with strange little
sparks that had ignited beneath her skin everywhere his gaze had fallen.
She
was accustomed to inciting admiration in the gentlemen of her circles—she had
been told she was beautiful often enough throughout her life to believe it was
so. But she could not say she had ever inspired the flash of irritation she
noted in his eyes when he finished his perusal.
He
sent a focused glare toward the post office behind her before looking down at
her once again. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, his smooth-textured
voice a strange contradiction to his harsh visage.
He
was scowling. At her.
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About the author:
Amy's love of romance began one summer when she was thirteen and complained of boredom. She ended up with one of her mother's Barbara Cartland books and an obsessive interest that expanded from there. Her affinity for writing began with sappy pre-teen poems and led to a Bachelor's degree with an emphasis on Creative Writing from the University of Minnesota--Twin Cities.
She writes in the early mornings while her young kids are still asleep and dreams of a future when she can write all day instead of going to her "other" job. In the evenings, Amy is a full-time wife and mother who enjoys pizza, wine and dark brooding heroes...namely, her husband.
Author website: www.amysandas.com
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