I'd like to announce the upcoming release of my new book.
It’s a historical western romantic comedy. Is that a thing, you ask. Darned tootin it’s a thing. I just made it a thing.
So, it’s a western but not really a western. Think of it as your standard romantic comedy only with horses instead of cars. Oh, and no social media. I know! What a relief right? After all, who needs social media. Think how much more fun life was before social media. I mean, families spent their evenings together doing exciting things like playing cards, playing charades and washing laundry. Fun, huh.
A Wild and Wooly Texan is coming out May 1, 2023. The theme of the book is ‘a duck out of water’ featuring wastrel Lord Algernon Grey who is exiled to Texas to learn to be a man, and budding chemist Molly Yeager who shows him the error of his ways. It also features the usual off-the-wall secondary characters such as Algernon’s prissy valet Martin and tiny Tommy who thinks Algernon is God.
Oh, and did I mention, Algernon plans to make his mark in cattle country by raising sheep.
Anyway, here’s an excerpt:
“Fight!” Morty yelled, his eyes gleaming in masculine glee, and leapt off the boardwalk heading towards the melee.
“They’re beating up God,” Tommy howled, and raced after Morty.
“Tommy, stop,” Molly called after him. Picking up her skirts, she sprinted across the street after the boys. Grunts, groans, moans, and shouts of pain filled the air as she approached. Fists flew, feet kicked and bodies rolled in the dust. Spectators stood around them, laughing and cheering as they incited their friends to further murder and mayhem.
She forced herself through the cheering crowd of men gathered around the brawling men and stopped next to the younger boy.
“They’re hurting Him, Mith Molly,” the boy yelled, grabbing hold of Molly’s skirt. “They’re hurting God. Make them stop.”
The simmering violence in the air sent a chill up Molly’s spine. She gripped the boy’s shoulder and pushed him towards the back of the crowd. “Tommy, get back before...”
Bang! The stagecoach horses squealed and lunged in their traces at the sound of the gunshot. The nearest horse bucked and a thrashing hoof smacked into Molly and threw her to the ground with a bone-jarring crash. The back of her head hit the packed dirt street with a hard whack. Steel-shod feet flashed over her head. A heavy hoof thudded on the ground, then another. With a gasp, she threw her arms over her head to protect herself, her heart thundering in her ears.
God help me!
Suddenly someone grabbed her collar, yanked her to her feet and shoved her out of the way. She staggered, her head still reeling from the impact with the hard ground. After a moment, she caught her balance, and blinked at the cowboys who’d stopped their fighting and stood around her, mute and red-faced with shame.
“Oh, geez. We’re real sorry, Miss Molly,” one of the cowboys muttered, twisting his hat in his hand.
“Yeah. We didn’t mean no harm,” another chimed in.
“Any harm,” Molly corrected, her voice still shaky.
“That’s what I said,” he agreed, nodding eagerly. “We didn’t mean nothing. It was that Slim Muldoon what started it and we just kind of got caught up in the fun. We wasn’t thinking you might get hurt.” The rest of the men nodded and added their own apologies.
Tommy sidled up to Molly’s side and gripped her skirt in a small hand. Molly wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Well, you should have been thinking,” she responded sharply. “Someone could have been injured.”
The men stared at the ground, looking embarrassed.
She softened her next words. “But you pulled me out from under the horse and saved my life, so I guess I have to forgive you.”
The men looked at each other, shame written on their faces, and scuffled their feet like small boys. “That weren’t one of us, Miss Molly,” one admitted in a low voice.
Molly frowned. “Then who did?”
As one, the men pointed behind her. “He did,” they chorused.
“Who did?” she asked, frowning as she turned.
And blinked as she stared at the closest thing to perfection she’d ever seen. Even bruised and bleeding, everything about him was mind-boggling, from his large, sleepy gray eyes, slashing cheekbones and strong chin to his chiseled nose and perfectly sculpted lips, never mind the long legs, broad shoulders and tapered waistline, which didn’t bear repeating since she’d already admired them more than once from across the street.
“You did?” she whispered.
“Are you unhurt?” he asked. One blond brow rose in question.
Molly blinked, taken aback by the movement. How did he do that? “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I guess thanks to you, mister.”
“My lord,” he replied. The eyebrow went higher and disappeared into the shiny blond curls falling over his wide forehead.
The thought of running her fingers through those curls stopped the breath in Molly’s chest. She swallowed, realizing she’d let the silence drag on in her admiration as he stared at her, his eyebrow still cocked. She pulled herself together with difficulty. “Well...er, I don’t approve of taking the Lord’s name in vain, however I suppose it’s forgivable under these circumstances.”
“No,” he corrected. “That is how you should address me. As my lord.’”
Next to her, Tommy jerked in excitement. “Thee, Miss Molly,” he whispered in awestruck tones. “He is God.”