From Amazon
This collection of Wild West tales by four prominent historical authors involves dangerous men and spirited women. Sundown by Brenda Joyce is the story of spinster Emily Anderson. She teaches the local schoolchildren, helps care for her father's farm, struggles to deal with her mother's death, and worries about her father's increasingly frequent drinking. Her days have a dreary sameness--until one morning when she goes to wake her father for breakfast and finds instead a handsome, wounded man in her father's bed. Raphael Caldwell, accused of robbery and murder, needs a place to hide out, and the Anderson homestead seems as good a place as any. Raphael's wound heals, but he loses his heart to Emily.
The collection's second treasure is Heaven with a Gun by Connie Brockway. When reporter Jim Coyne is exiled to Far Enough, Texas, in 1883, he searches for a story exciting enough to restore him to the good graces of his New York editor. He finds that story in Lightning Lil, the female bandit robbing the good citizens of Far Enough. Determined to interview her, he places an ad in the paper, and much to his surprise, she responds. But the beautiful, innocent young woman that throws herself into his armsisn't quite what the big-city reporter expected. Gillian--"Lightning Lil"--is equally surprised by the brawny, handsome Irishman. What ensues is a tender story of a daring woman set on revenge and the strong, caring man who finally frees her from the ghosts of her past.
In Lady Desperado by Cait Logan, Grayson Sinjin Steele is a powerful, rich Wyoming rancher, furious with a bandit named the Raven for stealing a book of erotic drawings for which Grayson is responsible. Grayson tracks the Raven to the gun shop of Olympia Hutton. She's beautiful and headstrong, and Grayson grows to crave her during the time he spends proving that she is indeed the bandit he seeks.
Lastly, Wishing for More by Stephanie Mittman tells the tale of Moreland Rivers and his brother, Lesley. The two rob banks and give the money to their friends in need. But when Moreland meets Samantha Maddigan, a young woman looking for a little excitement, he may just hang up his guns in exchange for true love.
Book Description
Dangerous men...Spirited women...Untamed desires that set the Wild West afire....
BRENDA JOYCE--Passion begins at "Sundown" as a spinster schoolteacher finds a wounded fugitive in her father's bed and compromises her honor to rescue him from a waiting noose.
CONNIE BROCKWAY--She was "Heaven with a Gun": a notorious masked gunfighter who granted a reporter a career-making interview--if, in exchange, he'd let her masquerade as his wife.
CAIT LOGAN--They called the caped marauder Raven, but only one man suspected that the six-foot-tall bandit was a "Lady Desperado"--and he vowed to tame her, trap her and make her his outlaw bride.
STEPHANIE MITTMAN--She's a spirited beauty "Wishing for More" who gets her wish when she's taken hostage by a Robin Hood bandit who steals her heart.
They have captured the hearts of readers with their bestselling, award-winning novels. Now these beloved authors come together in a breathtaking collection of stories that sizzle with raw desire, adventure, and passions as reckless as America's untamed frontier....
BRENDA JOYCE--Passion begins at "Sundown" as a spinster schoolteacher finds a wounded fugitive in her father's bed and compromises her honor to rescue him from a waiting noose.
CONNIE BROCKWAY--She was "Heaven with a Gun": a notorious masked gunfighter who granted a reporter a career-making interview--if, in exchange, he'd let her masquerade as his wife.
CAIT LOGAN--They called the caped marauder Raven, but only one man suspected that the six-foot-tall bandit was a "Lady Desperado"--and he vowed to tame her, trap her and make her his outlaw bride.
STEPHANIE MITTMAN--She's a spirited beauty "Wishing for More" who gets her wish when she's taken hostage by a Robin Hood bandit who steals her heart.
They have captured the hearts of readers with their bestselling, award-winning novels. Now these beloved authors come together in a breathtaking collection of stories that sizzle with raw desire, adventure, and passions as reckless as America's untamed frontier....
From the Publisher
From four well-loved authors--Brenda Joyce, Connie Brockway, Cait Logan, and Stephanie Mittman--comes an irresistible short story collection of unbridled love in the Wild West!
About the Author
Brenda Joyce is the New York Times bestselling author of sixteen romantic novels, including The Conqueror and The Finer Things. She currently lives in New York City.
Connie Brockway is the award-winning author of four historical romances, including A Dangerous Man and As You Desire. She lives in a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota with her husband and their daughter. She loves writing historical romances, finding it the perfect way to meld a restless nature, a questing intellect and a romantic heart, as she travels, researches and, of course, dreams. Don't miss her next full-length historical romance All Through The Night which goes on sale at the end of September.
Cait Logan is a nationally bestselling author who grew up in the sage and sand of rural Washington State and currently lives in Missouri's Ozarks. Her most recent historical romance novels include Be Mine and The Wedding Gamble.
Stephanie Mittman is the award-winrung author of four historical romances, including The Marriage Bed and Sweeter Than Wine. She won the America On-Line Romance award for Best Sweet Historical Romance in 1995.
Connie Brockway is the award-winning author of four historical romances, including A Dangerous Man and As You Desire. She lives in a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota with her husband and their daughter. She loves writing historical romances, finding it the perfect way to meld a restless nature, a questing intellect and a romantic heart, as she travels, researches and, of course, dreams. Don't miss her next full-length historical romance All Through The Night which goes on sale at the end of September.
Cait Logan is a nationally bestselling author who grew up in the sage and sand of rural Washington State and currently lives in Missouri's Ozarks. Her most recent historical romance novels include Be Mine and The Wedding Gamble.
Stephanie Mittman is the award-winrung author of four historical romances, including The Marriage Bed and Sweeter Than Wine. She won the America On-Line Romance award for Best Sweet Historical Romance in 1995.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
An excerpt from "Sundown" by Brenda Joyce
"Would you help me get rid of this beard, Miss Emily...ma'am?"
His tone, she decided, was mocking. Yet somehow it was belligerent, challenging. Then Emily decided she was imagining things. "I think you can wait until the morning," Emily heard herself say. She walked over to him, still oddly breathless, and placed the tray on the stacked bales beside the kerosene lamp. She was careful not to allow even her skirts to come into contact with him. But she felt his eyes upon her.
"Scared?"
Emily jerked, meeting his gaze.
"Are you scared?" he asked, his tone flat.
"Of course not. If you haven't killed me by now, it's unlikely you'll kill me at all."
He smiled slowly. "Yeah. Real unlikely."
Emily decided that it was hot in the barn. She realized that she was hugging herself. And that he was holding the razor out to her.
"Very well," Emily snapped. She took the razor. "You'll have to sit. You're too tall."
"Think I don't know how small you are?"
Emily looked into his eyes, wondering what he meant exactly. There was something behind his words. He sat down on the bales, gave her a feline smile, and turned his cheek toward her. Emily stared at his perfect profile.
"Well?" he asked softly, glancing very briefly at her.
Emily flushed because he'd caught her ogling him, and she lifted the razor. Only to realize that her hand was shaking.
Quickly Emily dropped her hand. But he'd seen. He turned, his gaze intense.
"It's cold," Emily lied, avoiding his eyes. "I'm shivering and--"
"You're shaking."
Her gaze flew to his. When she spoke, her tone was strangled. "This isn't a good idea."
It was a moment before he replied. "Yeah, it's a real bad idea."
Emily was ready to flee. But before she could take a single step, he caught her wrist. His grasp felt like a manacle. "You have a beau?"
"What?" Emily gasped.
"You have a beau? A sweetheart?" His eyes bored into hers.
Emily tried to jerk her wrist free and failed. Panting, she said, "That's none of your concern!"
"So there's no one."
"I...I did have a beau. Henry Cooper. But it didn't last."
"He ever kiss you?" Raphael asked.
Emily stared at him in shock.
Slowly, not releasing her, he stood. "Guess that's answer enough."
Emily's heart was beating so hard she felt faint. Surely he was not intending what she thought he was!
A long moment passed. Raphael did not move. Emily's skirts actually covered his boots.
Then he said, "May I kiss you, Miss Emily?"
Emily's eyes widened. He was asking her?
His jaw flexed. "If you say no, I'll walk away. That's a promise."
Emily opened her mouth to reply--to say no-- and failed to utter a sound. Images danced through her head, of this man embracing her, kissing her...dear Lord. "Yes," she whispered.
His eyes softened, then something flared there, hot and bright. He reeled Emily in. As his hands slipped to her waist, holding her loosely now, Emily's breasts brushed his bandaged chest. She found it distinctly difficult to breathe. She was acutely aware of his hands on her hips, of his chest against hers, and she was even aware of their legs touching, his thighs hard and warm. Raphael bent his head.
Emily did not move, allowing him to feather her mouth again and again with his lips.
And Emily would have never dreamed in a million years that the outlaw could be so gentle. That a kiss could cause so many fluttering sensations, affecting so much of her body. His mouth continued to brush hers, perhaps a dozen times, and Emily finally sighed. Her body was melting, hot and molten, delicious yet coiled up tight, and her fists were uncurling, her fingers spreading over his bare shoulders. Emily wanted to dig her nails into his muscular arms, but didn't dare. Then Raphael made a sound, the kind of sound Emily had never heard before but recognized now as something both sexual and male. Her own excitement and wonder increased. Her body was feverish and filled with yearning.
Suddenly his grip tightened on her waist. His tongue flicked over the barely parted seam of her lips.
Someone moaned. Emily realized, dazed, that it was herself.
And suddenly she was in his embrace. Every inch of her body was crushed against his. His mouth was on hers, and it was no longer gentle, but greedy and devouring. Emily felt his tongue enter her and fill her, and at the same time she felt his maleness pressed up, rock-hard, against her hip.
Emily knew she should stop him. But she told herself, just a little bit more....
Raphael suddenly gripped her upper arms, hurtfully, and pushed her away. Emily was so surprised that she stumbled. "You had better go," he said.
Emily did not fall. She clung to the stacked bales of hay for support, met his smoldering eyes. She could not seem to think.
"I'll sleep in the barn tonight," he said.
Emily could not sleep. She sat on the edge of her bed, clad in her flannel nightgown, fingering the lace at the edge of one cuff. She replayed the kiss in her mind.
Emily hugged herself. Just thinking about the kiss and the outlaw was making her as feverish as when she had been in his arms. What was happening to her?
And why had he kissed her in the first place? He'd said he didn't like her. Clearly, Emily decided, he had lied.
Emily stood and walked barefoot across her bedroom to the window. She did not notice the cold. She pulled apart the plain muslin curtains and stared out into the starry night. A half-moon beamed back at her from above the shadowy barn. It occurred to Emily that if the outlaw was thinking about her, too, and he looked toward the house, he would clearly see her silhouetted against her brightly lit bedroom. Of course, he wasn't thinking about her.
But what was he thinking about?
Emily knew her thoughts had become dangerous. He was an outlaw, a fugitive. He was not the kind of man any respectable lady should think about--especially not the way Emily was thinking about him. And he was almost healed. He could leave the farm, and Aurora, anytime now. In fact, in the morning he might even be gone.
Reluctantly, Emily turned and left the window and climbed into bed. But it was a long time before she found sleep.
Excerpted from "Sundown" by Brenda Joyce. Copyright (c) 1997 by Brenda Joyce. Excerpted by permission of Dell Publishing, a division of the Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
"Would you help me get rid of this beard, Miss Emily...ma'am?"
His tone, she decided, was mocking. Yet somehow it was belligerent, challenging. Then Emily decided she was imagining things. "I think you can wait until the morning," Emily heard herself say. She walked over to him, still oddly breathless, and placed the tray on the stacked bales beside the kerosene lamp. She was careful not to allow even her skirts to come into contact with him. But she felt his eyes upon her.
"Scared?"
Emily jerked, meeting his gaze.
"Are you scared?" he asked, his tone flat.
"Of course not. If you haven't killed me by now, it's unlikely you'll kill me at all."
He smiled slowly. "Yeah. Real unlikely."
Emily decided that it was hot in the barn. She realized that she was hugging herself. And that he was holding the razor out to her.
"Very well," Emily snapped. She took the razor. "You'll have to sit. You're too tall."
"Think I don't know how small you are?"
Emily looked into his eyes, wondering what he meant exactly. There was something behind his words. He sat down on the bales, gave her a feline smile, and turned his cheek toward her. Emily stared at his perfect profile.
"Well?" he asked softly, glancing very briefly at her.
Emily flushed because he'd caught her ogling him, and she lifted the razor. Only to realize that her hand was shaking.
Quickly Emily dropped her hand. But he'd seen. He turned, his gaze intense.
"It's cold," Emily lied, avoiding his eyes. "I'm shivering and--"
"You're shaking."
Her gaze flew to his. When she spoke, her tone was strangled. "This isn't a good idea."
It was a moment before he replied. "Yeah, it's a real bad idea."
Emily was ready to flee. But before she could take a single step, he caught her wrist. His grasp felt like a manacle. "You have a beau?"
"What?" Emily gasped.
"You have a beau? A sweetheart?" His eyes bored into hers.
Emily tried to jerk her wrist free and failed. Panting, she said, "That's none of your concern!"
"So there's no one."
"I...I did have a beau. Henry Cooper. But it didn't last."
"He ever kiss you?" Raphael asked.
Emily stared at him in shock.
Slowly, not releasing her, he stood. "Guess that's answer enough."
Emily's heart was beating so hard she felt faint. Surely he was not intending what she thought he was!
A long moment passed. Raphael did not move. Emily's skirts actually covered his boots.
Then he said, "May I kiss you, Miss Emily?"
Emily's eyes widened. He was asking her?
His jaw flexed. "If you say no, I'll walk away. That's a promise."
Emily opened her mouth to reply--to say no-- and failed to utter a sound. Images danced through her head, of this man embracing her, kissing her...dear Lord. "Yes," she whispered.
His eyes softened, then something flared there, hot and bright. He reeled Emily in. As his hands slipped to her waist, holding her loosely now, Emily's breasts brushed his bandaged chest. She found it distinctly difficult to breathe. She was acutely aware of his hands on her hips, of his chest against hers, and she was even aware of their legs touching, his thighs hard and warm. Raphael bent his head.
Emily did not move, allowing him to feather her mouth again and again with his lips.
And Emily would have never dreamed in a million years that the outlaw could be so gentle. That a kiss could cause so many fluttering sensations, affecting so much of her body. His mouth continued to brush hers, perhaps a dozen times, and Emily finally sighed. Her body was melting, hot and molten, delicious yet coiled up tight, and her fists were uncurling, her fingers spreading over his bare shoulders. Emily wanted to dig her nails into his muscular arms, but didn't dare. Then Raphael made a sound, the kind of sound Emily had never heard before but recognized now as something both sexual and male. Her own excitement and wonder increased. Her body was feverish and filled with yearning.
Suddenly his grip tightened on her waist. His tongue flicked over the barely parted seam of her lips.
Someone moaned. Emily realized, dazed, that it was herself.
And suddenly she was in his embrace. Every inch of her body was crushed against his. His mouth was on hers, and it was no longer gentle, but greedy and devouring. Emily felt his tongue enter her and fill her, and at the same time she felt his maleness pressed up, rock-hard, against her hip.
Emily knew she should stop him. But she told herself, just a little bit more....
Raphael suddenly gripped her upper arms, hurtfully, and pushed her away. Emily was so surprised that she stumbled. "You had better go," he said.
Emily did not fall. She clung to the stacked bales of hay for support, met his smoldering eyes. She could not seem to think.
"I'll sleep in the barn tonight," he said.
Emily could not sleep. She sat on the edge of her bed, clad in her flannel nightgown, fingering the lace at the edge of one cuff. She replayed the kiss in her mind.
Emily hugged herself. Just thinking about the kiss and the outlaw was making her as feverish as when she had been in his arms. What was happening to her?
And why had he kissed her in the first place? He'd said he didn't like her. Clearly, Emily decided, he had lied.
Emily stood and walked barefoot across her bedroom to the window. She did not notice the cold. She pulled apart the plain muslin curtains and stared out into the starry night. A half-moon beamed back at her from above the shadowy barn. It occurred to Emily that if the outlaw was thinking about her, too, and he looked toward the house, he would clearly see her silhouetted against her brightly lit bedroom. Of course, he wasn't thinking about her.
But what was he thinking about?
Emily knew her thoughts had become dangerous. He was an outlaw, a fugitive. He was not the kind of man any respectable lady should think about--especially not the way Emily was thinking about him. And he was almost healed. He could leave the farm, and Aurora, anytime now. In fact, in the morning he might even be gone.
Reluctantly, Emily turned and left the window and climbed into bed. But it was a long time before she found sleep.
Excerpted from "Sundown" by Brenda Joyce. Copyright (c) 1997 by Brenda Joyce. Excerpted by permission of Dell Publishing, a division of the Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
