From the Author:
I have always held a fascination for romance novels, cowboys with horses, and the old western way of life. There is nothing quite like curling up with a good book and taking a journey through the American West where sexy nineteenth century cowboys sweep you away into a world of romance, intrigue, and discovery.
I started writing when I was in elementary school and by the time I was twelve years old, I knew I would be a published author one day. I decided to write the kinds of romance novels that I love to read--wonderful stories with a lot of sexual tension and moments that take your breath away, but that avoid the graphic love scenes that often come along with it. I wanted real stories that showed my characters desires--emotional and physical--but also their strength in overcoming temptations and doing what they believe is right.
I grew up on books by Jude Devereaux, Julie Garwood, Jodi Thomas, and Johanna Lindsay--just to name a few--and I found that their western romances were among my favorites. I still have many of them on my shelves because their stories touched me. Today, I realize I my novels are more along the lines of Debra Holland, Caroline Fyffe, and Jillian Hart. While my books do contain Christian elements, there is some mild cursing and men without shirts (I'm a sucker for a good set of abs), but are suitable for readers of most ages.
I hope that my books with inspire my readers and leave them with a feeling of satisfaction. Come cozy up with the Redbournes and fall in love all over again with heroes who'll take your breath away.
From the Inside Flap:
All at once their bedroom closed in around her...
Cole's presence was everywhere all at once. The slow creaking sound of the wood on rusting hinges heightened her anticipation and when the door opened completely, he took his first step inside the room. Abby felt her knees go weak.
His large masculine form framed the doorway. The only sounds she could hear now were the echo of his worn leather boots on the hard wooden floor and the delicious pounding of her heart. Cole's face, soot stained and weary, had been carved to perfection with deep contours and planes that defined his chiseled features. The brown bared skin of his chest glimmered with sweat in the lantern's light.
He tossed his hat onto the bed and started toward her. He ran his fingers through his still damp hair, stopping mere inches away. Abby could all but taste the sweat emanating from his taut body.
"Fire's out," he rasped, his voice husky and dry as he reached up to touch her face.
The tingling in her belly told her it was only just beginning.
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