Only 2 Stars Out of 4

The reviewer (below) isn't thrilled with the most anticipated movie of the summer. I'm crushed and hope to disagree with him when I see it this weekend.  As you know, I write Westerns as well as Contemporary romance and I have been long-awaiting this movie, even before all the hype.

More than a year ago, I was on a plane, going to Texas and I sat next to a young man who was a "special effects" artist.  We got to talking and he told me about a project he was working on... a movie with a strange title, Cowboys and Aliens.  Of course, I told him my Old West connection and he pulled out a portolio and showed me his monsters, effects, even a weird looking cow, that he'd worked on for the movie.  It was really neat seeing those "aliens" from the beginning stages and we spent the next hours on the plane talking movies and special effects and of course, books!

Needless to say, I'm hoping this reviewer got it wrong.   Wild horses, couldn't stop me from seeing this movie this weekend.  :)

Here's the review: 

"Cowboys & Aliens" — Director Jon Favreau's genre mash-up is more a mush-up, an action yarn aiming to be both science fiction and Old West adventure but doing neither all that well. The filmmakers — and there are a lot, among them 11 producers or executive producers including Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard and Brian Grazer, plus half a dozen credited writers — start with a title that lays out a simple but cool premise: invaders from the skies shooting it out with guys on horseback. For all the talent involved, they wound up keeping the story too simple, almost simple-minded, leaving a terrific cast led by Daniel Craig, Harrison Ford and Olivia Wilde stuck in a sketchy, sometimes poky tale where you get cowboys occasionally fighting aliens and not much more. Craig's a stony-faced amnesiac with a weird hunk of metal locked on his wrist who wanders into a dusty town just before alien craft swoop in and start abducting the locals. He joins cattle baron Ford's posse to retrieve the missing and teach these creatures not to mess with hardy western pioneers. PG-13 for intense sequences of western and sci-fi action and violence, some partial nudity and a brief crude reference. 118 minutes. Two stars out of four.

— David Germain, AP Movie Writer



We Have Winners of Big City vs Small Town!!

Thanks for all your comments this week! 

I really enjoyed learning your reading preferences!

Our random draw winners for a $10 Amazon Gift Card are:

Linda Cacaci

LibraryPat

Ingeborg

Please contact me at Charlenesands@hotmail.com privately with the email addy you'd like your prize to be awarded instantly!

And stop by the Desire Blog Sunday and Monday where I ask:  Where would you like to see a Cowboy?

BIG CITY VS SMALL TOWN CONTEST

Big City

A fun little contest.  

In Smooth-Talking the Hometown Girl, Kyle Warren lives in a big city but returns to his small hometown of Bentley, Arizona to settle his father's estate where he meets up with Christy, the pretty girl next door. His return reminds him of what small-town life was like.  I'd love to know if you prefer a big city story or a small town tale?  It could be both or neither. 



Small Town



Post a comment here and you'll be entered in a drawing to win one of 3  $10 Amazon Gift Cards awarded instantly to you via email. 

I'll post the winners HERE and on Facebook on July 25th! 


Ebook available on:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords





EXCERPT of SMOOTH-TALKING THE HOMETOWN GIRL

Chapter One




Kyle Warren pulled out a turquoise vinyl-covered chair in his father’s kitchen and sat down. “Here’s to you, Pop,” he whispered before lifting an amber beer bottle to his lips. He raised his eyes heavenward. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of the place. I’m home now.”


Shifting in the dinosaur of a chair with its chrome edges, he laughed quietly. He’d bet his father hadn’t even known these old kitchen sets had come into style again.


John Warren hadn’t cared much for luxury. He’d been a practical man and lived a simple life. Lord only knew what he’d done with the monthly checks Kyle had sent him through the years. Kyle had never asked, since he’d been too pleased his father had finally agreed to accept the money.


“Pop” Warren, as the whole town of Bentley called him, had been the rock of stability Kyle could always count on.


Now he was gone.


Soft music playing from the house next door had Kyle swiveling his head to look out the window. He strained his ears and picked up the lulling sound of a female voice singing along with the radio.


He stood up abruptly, the heavy chair hampering his swift action, and moved to the kitchen’s garden box window to catch a better look. From his vantage point he had a clear view of the woman standing not twelve feet away in her own kitchen.


Christy Evans.


He’d heard she had moved back here four years ago when her parents retired in Houston. Transfixed, he stood watching her bustle about her kitchen, harmonizing beautifully with the snappy tune.


She hadn’t changed much since high school. She wore her pale blonde hair long, past her shoulders. From what he could see from this distance, her skin still appeared tan and healthy and as always, in direct contrast with the softest blue eyes Kyle had ever remembered.


“Still a looker, Christy,” he muttered before taking another sip of beer.


She glanced up then and surprise registered on her face when she noticed him. He smiled and put up his hand to wave.


Her hand went up slowly and, with the slightest of movements, her fingers wiggled their greeting. She mouthed a polite “hello” then turned her back on him.


Kyle let out a chuckle. “Same old Christy,” he said, plunking down the bottle he held. She’d been the one girl in high school who hadn’t fallen for him. The one girl who’d seen right through his practiced ways and smooth talk and the one girl who’d made no bones about turning him down if he ever offered.


Therefore, he never had.
In his mind, he’d labeled her a prude, a stick in the mud, no fun. But he’d liked so many things about her even though he’d also labeled her off-limits.


Not that Kyle didn’t like a challenge, he did. But Christy Evans had won her way into Pop’s heart. He could still hear Pop now, warning, “She’s our neighbor and a fine girl. You do right by her or don’t bother with her a’tal, boy.”


Kyle smiled now thinking back on all the innocent flirtations and teasing he put her through, but never once had he offered more, respecting his father’s wishes. He realized much later on, she’d been the only girl in the entire student body at Bentley High who’d truly intrigued him.


Kyle shrugged off his nostalgic feelings and went about the task of going through his father’s things. He took a tour of the house leisurely, as pleasant memories of his childhood came rushing back. He and Pop had had a great father-son relationship. It had been just the two of them since his mother’s untimely death. Kyle had been five years old when an illness took his mother’s life.


He entered his father’s bedroom. The stale remnants of his father’s minty aftershave still lingered. He breathed in the scent that seemed to encompass the entire room and felt as if Pop would come walking through the door any time now.


His old man sure liked to keep the status quo. Everything looked the same as it had when Kyle lived here. As his gaze traveled around the room, he realized a part of him wanted to keep everything in its place—the hand-knitted afghan on the rocker, Pop’s worn-out brown slippers on the side of his bed, and his thick reading glasses perched next to the alarm clock on the nightstand.


Practicality won out. Eventually, Kyle reasoned, he would have to pack everything up. He’d have to cleanse this house of everything his father loved. But he decided, quite adamantly, not today.


He didn’t have to do it today.


Kyle shrugged off the thought and headed for the shower. Minutes later, he came towel-wrapped out of the bathroom and began drying off when a rattling at the front screen door made him turn in that direction. He heard a female voice call out. “Hello, Kyle? Are you in there? It’s me, Christy.”


* * * * *


Christy knocked on Kyle’s door a bit louder this time. She knew he was in here. She’d seen him just thirty minutes ago watching her from the kitchen window. And she’d had to walk around a sleek black convertible Lexus on the driveway to reach his front door. When the seconds clicked by and no one answered, she turned on the porch to leave.


“That you, Christy?”


She twirled around in time to see Kyle Warren opening the screen door dressed only in a pair of black jogging shorts. Droplets of water cascaded down his face onto his chest and shoulders. Casually, he took the terry-cloth towel from about his neck, mopped his face, then dabbed at the bigger drops coating his bare chest.


“It’s...me. Hello,” she said, awkwardly shifting the basket of muffins she held from one hand to the other. She kept her eyes trained on his. “I came to offer my condolences. I was visiting my parents in Houston when I heard the news. I’m terribly sorry I missed Pop’s memorial service.”


“Thank you,” he said with sincerity. “Come in.”


She handed him the basket. “I thought these might help. Low-fat, cherry-raisin muffins.”


Kyle dipped his head down to the basket, taking in the aroma. “They smell good. You baked them?”


“They’re fresh out of the oven.”


Christy caught a whiff of his clean, fresh shower scent as she moved past him to stand in the center of the parlor. He looked good. Better than she remembered. Of course, she’d never seen so much of him before. He stood before her with casual ease, naked, except for a scant pair of shorts. But then the Kyle Warren she’d known in the past wouldn’t let that bother him. No, he seemed to relish making girls squirm.


Not her, of course. She’d never succumbed to his charms.


But, somehow she had hoped when she met up with him again, he’d have a receding hairline, a paunch stomach, and a toothless grin. Instead, he stood before her, powerfully built and muscular with a melt-your-heart smile, chock-full of confidence.


“That’s very nice of you.”


“Uh, what? Oh right, the muffins. It’s the least I can do. Pop was a special man. I adored him. The whole town adored him.”


Kyle handed the basket back to her and pointed toward the kitchen. “Take a load off and have a seat. I’ll be right back.”


She stared after him, watching as he trekked through the parlor to lift a shirt off a bedroom knob and throw it on quickly. He met her in the kitchen, not bothering to button up.


He gave her a quizzical look as she stood there numbly, not moving. He pulled out the kitchen chair in a gallant gesture. “Thanks again for the muffins.”


She hunkered down, fighting tears. She didn’t want to do this in front of Kyle. Breaking down in front of Pop’s son wasn’t what she’d planned, but she hadn’t been inside the house since the dear man had passed on. Old, familiar, not-too-distant memories filtered in. Pop was the sweetest, most young-at-heart older man she’d ever known. He was her friend as well as her neighbor. But Kyle was probably struggling with his own grief at the moment. She’d come to lend support, not to add to Kyle’s discomfort. “Thank you.” Christy drew in a breath and gave him a small smile. “How are you doing?”


Kyle gave her a long, serious look. “I’ll be okay. It takes some getting used to.”


“I still can’t believe he’s gone.”


He took a seat facing her, then grabbed a muffin from the toweling in the basket to study it. “I can’t believe he’s gone either.”


“I heard...” she began, then cleared her throat. “I heard you were with him when it happened.”


He nodded, shuttering his eyes. “I’d brought him up to Boston for a visit. We had a great week together, just hanging out, catching up on news. It was relaxing and fun. I’d often send for Pop when I couldn’t get away. And he would always come. Then, out of the blue, wham. His heart goes. He’d never had any symptoms that I knew about.”


Christy nodded. “I didn’t know of any either. He was always so happy. He never let anything really rattle him.”


Kyle agreed. “My dad was a rock...a real man.”


Christy sighed aloud, fingering the serrated chrome edges of the old kitchen table, almost smooth from age now. “Did he...linger?”


Relief washed over Kyle’s face, and the frown lines separating his forehead disappeared. “That’s my only consolation. He died instantly. With a smile on his face. We’d just come home from dinner...trout, his favorite, when it happened.”


Christy reached for Kyle’s hand from across the table. She squeezed his wrist gently and quickly. “I’m so sorry.”


With a quick smile, he let the muffin drop back into the basket. “At least my old man was happy. He had a good seventy-two years.”


“Yeah,” she agreed, thinking back on all the time she’d known John Warren. He’d always had a kind word, always a smile. Only when he worried about Kyle did he have moments of anxiety. “He loved you very much.”


“I know. Thanks for saying it though. Hey,” he said, picking up another muffin, this time taking a big bite. “I heard you were in the catering business now.” He gestured with a tilt of his head toward her front yard. “That your truck outside?”


“It’s mine,” she said, watching him devour the entire muffin with one large swallow. “Evans’ Edible Delights.”


His dark eyes lit with amusement before traveling the length of her body. “That’s the name of your catering company?”


“Yes, why? Is something wrong?”


“Uh, no,” he said, apparently holding back a smile. “Good name. Are you successful?”


“I do all right.”


“Well, judging by the muffin I just inhaled, I’d say you’d be pretty handy in the kitchen.”


“I am. Thanks for the compliment.” She looked around the house. Nothing had changed. Of course, she didn’t expect anything to be really different, except that Pop was gone. “So what now? What’ll you do with the place and with Warren’s Hardware?”


“Don’t know. This all happened so fast, I haven’t decided what to do. I’m taking some time off. I plan to be here a while, to settle the estate.”


“I can’t imagine anyone else owning Warren’s Hardware. That store is a Bentley icon. How long had your dad been in business here?”


“Let’s see. He opened the place a couple of years before I was born. I’d say at least thirty-two years now.” There was pride in his response, and Christy, too, felt a measure of it.


“Wow, in this day, nothing lasts that long. Except maybe some marriages.”


“Yeah, even those are hard to find...like your parents’ marriage. How long have they been together?”


“Going on forty years soon.”


Kyle nodded and gave her a wide grin. “What about you?”


“Me? Oh no, I never married. I was engaged once,” she said not wanting to elaborate. Confiding to Kyle about her failed engagement was not on her To Do list and it never would be. They’d never had that kind of relationship. “It didn’t work out.”


He accepted her answer without commenting. She didn’t need to ask him about his marital status. Through Pop, Christy had known Kyle had never married. But she was sure there’d been plenty of women. In high school, all he’d had to do was smile at a girl and she’d fall under his spell. Kyle drew women like a magnet to metal.


In the quiet kitchen they heard a dog barking, a car horn sound off, and in the distance Main Street Elementary’s school bell rang its dismissal. Children’s muted voices filled the air. Christy had always relished those small-town noises, had always welcomed their familiar sound. She wondered if Kyle, after living the last eleven years in a big city, thought them now quaint and antiquated.


“You look good, Christy,” he said, “real good.” His rich voice deepened even more with the addition of those last two words.


Blood rushed to her face immediately. Kyle’s unexpected compliment caught her unaware. “Th-Thank you. So do you...I mean, under the circumstances, you look...okay.”


One dark brow lifted, and he laughed. He braced both forearms on the table and leaned in, his face coming close to hers. “I look ‘okay’? God, Christy, you never would budge an inch with me.”


“No, I, uh—” Christy stood up abruptly. “I’d better go. I just wanted to come over here to say how sorry I am about Pop. If there’s any way I can make the transition go smoother for you, I’d be happy to help.”


For Pop Warren, she’d do just about anything, including helping his overly confident, impossibly handsome son get through this rough time.


“Have dinner with me, Christy.”


“What?” She felt the color drain from her face. “Dinner? No, I-I couldn’t.” She backed up a step.


Kyle stood and eyed her for a moment. “We’re not in high school anymore. I promise I won’t bite. Well,” he said on a chuckle, “I would have to eat the food.”


She let out a nervous laugh and backed up again. For the four years while in high school, Christy wondered what she’d say, what she’d do, if Kyle ever asked her out. But he’d never shown more than passing interest in her.


Now, he looked at her as if she were the only woman in the universe. She passed it off as practiced charm, a way to get what he wanted.


“It’s not a date. Just dinner with an old neighbor.”


“No, Kyle, really, I can’t. I’ve got a catering job to do tonight. I’ve been cooking in the kitchen all day.”


“Tomorrow night, then.”


Her brows furrowed and she blinked several times. “Why?”


Why, after all this time? Why me, she wanted to ask.


He shrugged and took a step closer. “I could use the company.”


She noted a flicker of sadness in his eyes, heard it in his voice. How could she deny companionship to a man who’d just lost his father?




She put her head down, realizing she couldn’t refuse him, but not because he was charming or handsome, or surprisingly that he appeared lonely. No, she couldn’t refuse him because he was John Warren’s son.


“Come over at eight tomorrow night. I’ll cook you dinner.”


There. That seemed less like a date.


“It’s a date,” he said without hesitation.


Christy groaned inwardly.


He led her to the door, opening the screen to walk her outside. “And thanks.”


“Don’t thank me just yet. I’m going try out a new recipe on you.”


“Experiment with me all you want,” he said innocently enough, but she didn’t miss the teasing glint in his eyes.


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HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!

Wishing you all a great Independence Day!!! 

And to our wonderful Flag Santa, who put up 4 flags on our lawn today, THANK YOU!!   Our flag was stolen from our front porch a few months ago.  Now we have 4!!!



New Romantic Suspense .... you won't want to miss from Kathy Bennett!

Los Angeles Police Officer Jade Donovan is being hunted. There’s the lieutenant who’s out to get her, the psycho who’s stalking her and leaving dead roses at her door, but most frightening of all, she’s been assigned to partner with her son’s father, Mac Stryker. Mac doesn’t know he’s Donnie’s dad, and Jade will stop at nothing to prevent him from finding out and possibly taking away her son. She will protect and defend him at all costs.



Mac Stryker is a cop with something to prove. Five years ago, he’d been forced to resign the police department in disgrace when he was too drunk to take action during a shooting. Now, Mac is sober, back on the force and back working with Jade Donovan, the rookie who’d saved his life. Worse, he finds himself attracted to Jade and her precocious son, Donnie. But Mac is through with love. The violent death of his wife and daughter turned him into an alcoholic, and he won’t put his job or his heart at risk again. He will protect and defend them both at all costs.


But when the deadline looms on Jade’s dozen deadly roses stalker, will the two partners manage to put aside their differences in order to save their son?

Written by my friend, fellow RWA Chapter mate and LAPD Officer, Kathy Bennett.  You don't want to miss this thrilling story!!

Available at Amazon!! 

Check out her Author Bio and wonderful Book Trailer on Amazon too!

 

NEW RELEASE... Come Take A Peek!!

Wealthy and successful, Kyle Warren never backs down from a challenge—in business or in pleasure. Now that he’s returned to his hometown, he’s set his sights on blonde-haired, blue-eyed Christy Evans, the one girl he couldn’t win over in high school. This time, Kyle won’t take no for an answer from the pretty girl next door.

All Christy has to do is keep her distance from her seriously sexy, temporary neighbor. Yet, Kyle needs a friend now and Christy has always been a sucker for a man in need. She vows not to fall for Kyle’s good looks, broad shoulders and dark bedroom eyes. She’d seen the damage he’d left in his wake in high school. But how long can a girl resist his seductive smiles and smooth-talking ways?

Be sure to check out my newest release available now as an ebook on KINDLE and soon, where other ebooks are sold. 

Buy at Amazon

Buy at Smashwords

Special thanks to http://www.zpphotography.com/ for doing such an awesome cover!

New From My Friend Cheryl St. John

My dear friend Cheryl has a fabulous new book released this month.  Take a moment to read her excerpt!!

Marrying the Preacher’s Daughter

978-0373828722

Love Inspired Historical

Cheryl St.John

Buy at Amazon

Bounty hunting was just a job for Gabe Taggart—one he needed to fund his sister's education. But now Gabe is ready to settle down and set aside his past. His adventuring days are over…until his intervention in a train robbery leaves him injured and under Elisabeth Hart's care. Antagonizing his feisty caretaker is the most fun Gabe's ever had. Elisabeth provokes him, too, with her strong mind, kind heart and high principles. Gabe hopes to win her love, but will his dark history bar him from marriage to the preacher's daughter?



READ THE EXCERPT:

"Toss your guns down now!" a male voice shouted. "Hands in the air."



Elisabeth Hart couldn't see past the layers of netting on a woman's hat in front of her, but sounds of alarm rippled through the passengers who sat in the forward rows. The interior of the railcar was sweltering beneath the midday sun, and she blotted her eyes and forehead with her lace-trimmed handkerchief. What should have been a routine stop along the tracks to take on water had become life-threatening.


Thuds sounded as firearms hit the aisle. A man in a battered hat and wearing a faded bandanna over the lower half of his face came into view. Eyes darting from person to person, he snatched up the guns.


Another masked bandit appeared in the wake of the first. Sweat drenched the front of his dusty shirt. "Turn over all your cash and jewelry. Ladies' bags, too, and none of you gets shot."


Two more thieves held open gunnysacks and gathered the looted items.


Fear prickled at Elisabeth, but a maelstrom of rebellious anger made her tremble. How dreadful of these men to point guns and make demands. Every fiber of her being objected to their lack of concern for the safety of the passengers and the downright thievery.


She turned to the tall, quiet man who'd been sitting beside her on the aisle side of the bench seat since they'd left Morning Creek, noting the way his hat brim shaded piercing green eyes. He watched the gunman with intense concentration, but made no move to stop what was happening. "Aren't you going to do something?" she whispered.


The man cast her a glare that would have scorched a lesser woman. One eyebrow rose and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.


"They're going to rob us," she insisted. "You still have your gun. I saw it inside your jacket when you leaned to lower the window earlier."


He focused on the man wielding the revolver, but spoke to her. "Can you count, lady? Just give 'em what they want so nobody gets hurt."


"But—"


Pausing beside them, the masked robber pointed his gun directly at her seat partner's chest. The man gave Elisabeth a pointed glare and calmly raised his hands in the air before looking up.


"Right in here," the robber said.


The seated man handed him a coin purse and tossed several silver dollars and his pocket watch into the bag.


The barrel of the gun swung to Elisabeth. "Lady?"


Elisabeth's temper and sensibilities flared, but fear kept her silent. Her heart beat so frantically, she thought her chest might burst. She wanted to refuse, but didn't want anyone to get hurt. Begrudgingly, she forfeited her black velvet chatelaine pocket with the silver handle and removed the gold bracelet she'd received for her last birthday, dropping both into the burlap sack.


The robber pointed at her neck. "You got a chain under there."


She clapped her hand protectively over the plain gold ring that rested on a chain beneath her damp and wrinkled cotton shirtwaist. "This was my mother's!"


"Just give it to him," the green-eyed stranger cajoled in his maddeningly calm manner.


"Now just wait," Elisabeth argued with a glare. "You don't understand. This was my mother's wedding ring."


The stranger gave her a quelling look that singed her eyelashes. Passengers called out their displeasure and shouted for her to give up her jewelry same as they had.


The ring was all she had of her mother. Since she'd drowned, Elisabeth had worn it every day…and tried to fill the woman's shoes. The wedding band symbolized Elisabeth's childhood and her sacrifices. Parting with it would break her heart…but she didn't want to be the cause of anyone getting shot. What would her father have to say in this situation?


She closed her eyes. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. Her true treasures were in heaven. The ring wasn't as important as the lives at stake.


The robber leaned down close as if he meant to take the ring from her neck. She raised her hand to her throat to prevent him from touching her. She could do this on her own. He grabbed Elisabeth's collar and yanked so hard that she jerked forward and the top button popped off.


In that same second, a grim click sounded. The bandit paused dead still.


Elisabeth stared into his shining dark eyes, and the moment stretched into infinity. She could hear her blood pulsing through her veins, her breath panting from between her dry lips. Was this the day she was going to die and meet her Maker?


"Take your hands off the lady, or you're dead." From beside her, the stranger's low-timbered voice was calm, but laced with lethal intent. The hair on Elisabeth's neck stood up.


No one else was privy to the robber's predicament. The green-eyed man's gun was still concealed between the two men, the business end jammed up against the robber's belly. Elisabeth dared a glance and saw the stranger's other hand clamped over the man's wrist, keeping that revolver pointed toward the floor and protectively away from her.


What could only have been seconds, but seemed like an hour, passed with their ragged breaths loud and the tick of a pocket watch encroaching on her consciousness.


"We ain't got all day, Hank!" one of the other thieves shouted.


The robber leaning over her attempted to move, and pandemonium broke loose. A shot rang out and Elisabeth's rescuer grunted in pain. The robber tugged at Elisabeth's collar, and the man beside her fired his gun.


The stench of gunpowder stung her nose. Men shouted. Women screamed. Elisabeth watched the events unfold in a haze of fear and disbelief.


The man who'd threatened Elisabeth crumpled, slumping sideways over the back of a seat. A horrifying crimson blotch spread across his shirtfront. She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out.


The stranger leaped from his seat with his arm outstretched. "Get down!" he bellowed. A rapid succession of shots nearly deafened her. She cupped her hands over her ears, belatedly realizing he'd been ordering her to get down. Praying for safety for the other passengers, she folded herself onto the floor and knelt with her heart pounding. The shock of seeing that man shot and bleeding stole her breath.


Minutes passed with her thoughts in chaos. Would she see her family again? If the stranger protecting her had been shot, maybe other people were being killed or injured, and all because she'd delayed. She'd been going to give him the ring.


An eerie silence followed in the wake of the previous pandemonium, and it took a few minutes to comprehend what that could mean.


The sound of hesitant footsteps and voices told her the battle was over. She opened eyes she hadn't realized were squeezed shut, unfolded her body and peered over the seat in front of her.


One of the male passengers had picked up the gunny-sacks and now doled possessions back to their owners. In numb silence, she accepted her monogrammed velvet pocket and gold bracelet from his outstretched hand while her mind struggled to comprehend what was going on around her. A conductor and several other railroad men stepped over prone bodies on the floor. The sight made her stomach lurch. Elisabeth could only stare in numb disbelief.


One of the uniformed men made his way to the stranger who was seated on a bench with his back against the side of the railcar, his hand pressed to his ribs. "Find something for bandages!"


Spurred out of her frozen state of shock, Elisabeth straightened and stepped into the aisle. She raised her hem and, holding it in her teeth, tore a wide strip from her petticoat. "Here."


Others provided handkerchiefs and scarves, and the conductor handed over the wad of material for the fellow to press against the wound. "Sit tight," he said. "We'll get you to the doctor in Jackson Springs quick as we can."


Several men dragged the robbers' bodies to the back of the car, the dead men's boot heels painting shiny streaks of blood on the wooden floor. Her stomach roiled and she thought she might be sick.


"Are you all right?"


She swung her gaze to those green eyes, now dark with pain. "Y-yes, I'm fine."


Had he killed all of those men? He made a halfhearted attempt to sit a little straighter, but grimaced and stayed where he was.


He'd probably saved her life. Without a doubt he'd saved her from losing her precious ring. She perched on the edge of the seat beside his leg, and reached to replace his hand with hers, pressing the cloth against his cream-colored shirt, where it was soaked with blood that flowed from his side. "I'm Elisabeth Hart."


"Gabe Taggart," he replied.


"That was a very brave thing you did."


His expression slid into a scowl. "Didn't have much choice after the stupid thing you did."

RomCon Today!!

By invitation, I have posted an excerpt and giving away a Gift Card today on the RomCon Blog!!  Stop by and say hello!!
http://bit.ly/ikOXLm

Announcing Winners and USA Today Bestselling List!

The winners of the Prizes "Worth Winning" Contest on www.charlenesands.com  will be announced in just two weeks. Be sure you've entered on the Win Stuff page to win one of three Grand Prizes!

$100 Amazon Gift Card

$50   Amazon Gift Card

#25   Amazon Gift Card

And a big THANK YOU to all of you who have read my May Desire, Carrying the Rancher's Heir!  It hit the USA TODAY BESTSELLER LIST two weeks running.  AND the BORDERS TOP TEN LIST, 3 weeks running.

The reviews and comments have been wonderful.  Clayton Worth's story is coming this Nov/Dec so keep a look out for it!!

Thanks again!! 

Congrats to Desere, My Facebook Friend and More giveaways!!

Talking about Water for Elephants/animals as secondary characters at http://pinkheartsociety.blogspot.com/

Talking about Arizona, Chris Young, Timothy Olyphant and Places you love at www.petticoatsandpistols.com

Come share a comment and be entered in a drawing for books, books and maybe even an Amazon Gift Card or two!!

Also Congrats to Desere S. for winning Brighton Bling on my Mother's Day Giveway!! 

MOTHER'S DAY HONOR AND GIVEAWAY!!

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THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT!

Carrying The Rancher’s Heir by Charlene Sands
WAS UP FOR THE BOOK OF THE WEEK!

The Review:


Carrying The Rancher’s Heir by Charlene Sands
Publisher: Harlequin Publishing
Genre: Contemporary
Length: Full Length (192 pages)
Heat Level: Hot
Rating: 5 Books
Reviewed by Honeysuckle


The passionate, impulsive evening Tagg Worth had spent in the arms of brown-eyed beauty Callie Sullivan was madness. Visions of their tryst still haunted him, but their one-night stand was a mistake the wealthy rancher swore he would not repeat. Hawk Sullivan's daughter was strictly off-limits—especially since Hawk's main goal in life was to put Tagg out of business.


Then, suddenly, there was a baby on the way. His baby. Tagg vowed to do the right thing, no matter what it cost him. But his inconvenient new bride tempted his solitary heart down a path a Worth didn't dare follow….


“She couldn’t possibly have predicted how that night would end.”


That’s the understatement of the year but it didn’t change the facts. Callie Sullivan had fulfilled a longtime fantasy when the opportunity presented itself and now she was pregnant with Taggart Worth’s child. Her dad would have referred to him as Worthless but then again the feud between the Sullivan’s and the Worth’s would rival the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s or more appropriately in this case the Montague’s and Capulet’s. Don’t get me wrong this story isn’t a tragedy in the sense of Romeo and Juliet but the bitter rivalry between the families and the beautiful love story put me in mind of the classic.


I simply love a romance story that doesn’t make me want to growl at the main characters for being stubborn beyond reason. While I do want both the hero and heroine to know their own mind and not be doormats it simply wears me out to deal with the mental gymnastics of an overly stubborn character. This is just one of the reasons I enjoyed Carrying The Rancher’s Heir so much. Ms. Sands brought two people together who both had legitimate reason’s to not pursue a relationship, even after the one night stand, and made them *gasp* reasonable adults. Flawed, yes, but reasonable.


Callie Sullivan is the daughter of Tagg’s neighbor and most ruthless business rival, Hawkins “The Hawk” Sullivan. They grew up in the same town and attended the same school but were never allowed to associate. I respected Callie as a woman because she didn’t give into her father for sake of trying to win his approval. She makes decisions that are rational and best for her and eventually what’s best for the baby on the way. One of those decisions was to seek out Tagg and see if the combustible chemistry they shared in Reno could lead to something more…before she tells him about the baby. Okay, maybe not immediately telling him about the pregnancy wasn't the best idea but I could see myself taking the same path given her circumstances.


Taggart Worth was a terrific leading man. Tagg is a grieving widow that has carried a burden regarding his first wife’s death for over four years. Ms. Sands writing is so vivid and poignant you can feel his guilt and regret weighing him down. It affects his ability to easily embrace love and trust Callie. After all she is the daughter of The Hawk.


This is the type of terrific romance you come to expect from Harlequin with sizzling dose of sexy scenes that Ms. Sands handles very well. Tagg has two brothers that seemed ripe for their own HEA and this reviewer hopes to Ms. Sands is already, if only mentally, penning those blessed events. In the mean time, pick up a copy of Carrying The Rancher’s Heir and enjoy the beautiful beginnings for Callie and Tagg.



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THERE'S A BLOGGER BORN EVERY MINUTE

WORDS OF WISDOM FROM MY FRIEND AND FELLOW AUTHOR   Cheryl St.John

http://cherylstjohn.blogspot.com/

Everybody has a blog and most of us subscribe to more blogs than we can possibly read, so what can we do to attract readers to our particular blog? Decide first if this is something you can commit to. You can't hold readers if you're not faithful about new content.

Carve out a niche for yourself: Brand yourself with color, a photo, graphics, content, voice -- anything and everything that makes your content and appearance appealing and unique.

Giveaways: Many readers leave comments if you're holding a drawing. Pick up an extra book or DVD and hold a drawing. Ask your friends for a book or a special craft to give away.

Articles: Currently on Fridays I post blogs on the craft of writing. I feature authors who write the same sort of books I do, whose books I've enjoyed, and books written by friends.

Create a special day (or holiday) event: A few ideas are Hero Tuesday, Wordless Wednesday or Favorite Book Friday. Come up with something unique to you. I hold a Christmas Tree Tour every year throughout the month of December and readers and authors send me photos of their Christmas trees. It's a huge hit and readers have come to anticipate it. I've even had a couple of editors mention it to me.

Lists: People love a list and will often post theirs. Favorite romantic songs, favorite romantic movies or comedies, favorite authors or new TV shows you plan to catch are just a few ideas.


Reviews: Give your opinion on books you've read, movies you've seen, who you think should be voted off American Idol, your choices on Dancing With the Stars, the Olympic performances. When you tag your blog with a popular tag, you'll get hits from people googling that topic.


Recipes: Family favorites or cooking for special occasions. Ask friends to share their favorites. Nearly everyone likes an easy recipe.

Photos and graphics:


1) I make it a point never to post a blog without a picture. People are much more likely to pause in their surfing and read if there's a photo. For a solid year I posted Photo Friday and featured only a photo I'd taken myself. It was a very popular feature.


2) Title your photos. Don't ever post a graphic or photo that is labeled simply DMS00087. Keep tags interesting and people doing google searches will find your photo and come to look.


Your photo: Keep it front and center on all promo. Seeing a face lets people think they know you. It's friendly and worth a thousand words.


Be professional: Published or unpublished, it doesn't matter, publishing houses you query will seek out your web presence. If you're published, your editors and the marketing department will look to see how you present yourself and use copyrighted materials. The publishing industry truly is a small world. Word gets around. Persons of influence can show up in the least likely places a year from now.


Don't make a scene if you get an ugly rejection. Don't criticize a reviewer who didn't get your book. Don't bash an editor or another author. Even if you remove a hastily-posted remark, you've left a permanent imprint in cyberspace that can't be completely erased. Even if you write humor, conduct yourself with class and dignity.


Enjoy: Most importantly, have fun and don't let blogging become just one more thing you have to do.