Tag Archives: small town

Guest Promotion–Fiona’s Knight of Dreams by Sharon McGregor

FionasKnightofDreams 3

BLURB

The ladies of 1947 Timber plan to find a wife for Charles, their new single minister. Fiona, an accident-prone and outspoken part-time librarian is looking for a knight on a white charger to carry her away from her small town life. Fiona and Charles are thrown together as they begin to solve an old mystery they find in a library book. Will Fiona’s white knight ever show up to sweep her away? Will Charles ever run out of invitations for cream cakes and lemon slice? Fiona might just discover the sound of hoof-beats when she least expects it.

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EXCERPT

No sooner had Charles Redpath entered her thoughts than he entered the library.

“Finished your books already?  You must be a fast reader.”

“Well, I discovered I’d already read the Perry Mason and the book on Revelation was a little too much on the dry side.”

“Funny, I thought Revelation was the one preachers used to scare the congregations. I never thought of it as dry. But then any book of sermons might take a little work to get through. I mean if you have to listen to one on Sunday mornings, why would you..” she broke off and put her hand to her mouth to stop any more words escaping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Oh I know what you meant.” She looked up expecting to see an expression of censure or hurt or disapproval, but instead Fiona could swear his eyes were twinkling, very nice brown eyes with a definite twinkle. Now why did she think that?

“Sunday sermons are an occasional requisite for spiritual guidance,” he said, “but a little can go a long way. On the other hand, mine sometimes have a certain soporific value.”

“Not if you’re preaching them on Revelation,” she retorted.

“Good. Your smile is back.” He held out the book of sermons, “Actually I wanted to show you something in this one.”

She looked at the book suspiciously. Was she wrong in her evaluation? Was he going to start giving her a private lesson in the scripture?

He shook the book and two envelopes fluttered out to the counter. “I found these in the book and I wonder if we should try to return them to the owner.”

They were plain envelopes, each bulky enough to contain a letter or note.  One had the capital letter D on the front.  The other said J in a slightly different hand.

“I can look to see who checked the book out last,” said Fiona,” but it was likely a long time ago.  I mean, how many people would..” There she went again, putting her foot in her mouth.  “I’ll check the records,” She clamped her mouth firmly shut before she could shoot herself in the foot again. She giggled a little. What was this fetish she was developing about feet?

She checked the pouch card for the book and looked up the member number in the card index.  “Last time this book went out was nearly three years ago. It was checked out by Rev. Hamilton.”

“But my predecessor was Jonas Micklethwaite.”

“Yes, but he was only here for a couple of years. I think he got tired of small town life, or his wife did, and they moved to a larger place.  Before him it was Rev. Hamilton. He was here for -well forever, just about.  He christened me and my brother too. Then his wife got sick and he had to look after her until-well, until she died.  He was pretty much ready to retire then, he was quite old, and so he went over to Greenway to live with his daughter.”

“I wonder if these letters are important to him.”

“Well, let’s check,” said Fiona, starting to slide her nail under a flap.

“We can’t do that! They’re someone’s private letters!” Fiona gave a quick look at Charles’ face and concluded the outrage of his words wasn’t echoed in the curiosity in his expression.

“And you call yourself a detective?”

“I don’t call myself a detective. You asked me why I didn’t become one. Anyhow, we can mail them to him in Greenway.”

“Look this one isn’t even sealed,” said Fiona, picking up the other letter. “So they’re not really private.” She flipped it open and out popped a sheet of paper.

She pushed it between them sideways on the counter so they could both read.

Sharon McGregor

Sharon McGregor lives on beautiful Vancouver Island. She hasn’t escaped her prairie roots, though, as her romances are set in small town North America.. Sharon loves to write romance, mystery and humor, if possible all three at the same time.

Web Contacts-

Web page-             www.sharonmcgregor.com

Blog-                     www.sharonmcgregor.com/blog

Twitter-                 @sharonmcgr

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Release Day–Present For A Cowboy

_Present for a Cowboy_web I’m thrilled to have my story, Clari’s Hero, included in this anthology of sweet-to-sensual western historical romances with a Christmas setting. Joining me are Lorrie Farrelly, Gail L. Jenner, Sarah McNeal, and Livia J. Washburn. Christmas is on the way and our western heroines are in search of the perfect PRESENT FOR A COWBOY! Livia J. Washburn’s TINSELTOWN kicks off this exciting holiday collection. Set in the “Roaring ’20’s” in Hollywood, western movie actor Pecos must rescue a young woman in danger—and finds love in the bargain. The rescue of a young, abused boy in Gail L. Jenner’s JUST IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS opens the door to love for a young woman and a loner who has sworn off relationships. Linda Carroll-Bradd’s CLARI’S HERO features a man who views himself as anything but a hero—and a woman who shows him otherwise, and Lorrie Farrelly’s CHRISTMAS TREASURE is an unexpected gift that can’t be measured in gold. In Sarah J. McNeal’s story, a lonely widow’s perceived indiscretion may cost her and her cowboy their happiness WHEN LOVE COMES KNOCKING. Blurb for Clari’s Hero Relocating to Texas has alleviated Clari Rochester’s health problems, and she yearns for adventure. And she spots it outside her relative’s mercantile when a quiet, but compelling, cowboy rescues a small child. Trevor Driscoll is the type of hero she’s come to admire through her love of books, and the type of man she secretly pens in her dime novels. But they’ve never had a real conversation.  Trevor knows the logging accident that left him with only eight fingers limits his options, but he’s learned to manage. Until he rescues a fine lady from a runaway horse, spends the afternoon transporting her to safety, and gets a glimpse of what he’s always wanted. How will he respond to the unique present this special woman bestows? BUY LINKS Amazon Smashwords ENTER the rafflecopter giveaway below for a chance to win one of two ecopies of this anthology. Contest open through midnight, November 30th. Prizes to be announced and awarded on Monday, December 1st.

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Character Interview by Bonnie McCune

Today I welcome Bonnie McCune who shares insight into the heroine of her latest novel titled Falling Like a Rock.

How about you introduce yourself by providing the basics?

Hi, I’m Elaine Svoboda, twenty-eight, middling height, curly reddish hair. I like to think I’m in control of my life and headed in the right direction, but something always seems to go wrong. Like especially with men. Two serious boyfriends turned out to be losers. The current one Joe (who just happens to be mayor of the mountain town I’ve moved to) is not impressed by me, to put it mildly.

 Where were you raised?

Cincinnati, Ohio. Mostly lived there, went to school there, worked there. So traveling from there, first to Denver, then to the little town of Falling Rock, has been an adventure. I’ve begun to appreciate the joys of small towns, the mountains, and natural areas.

Family members?

My family is back in Cincinnati. Grandparents, immigrants from what now is the Czech Republic, are flag-waving patriots. My parents are dedicated and skilled teachers. As for my older brother and sister, they always have excelled in everything they do. Over-achievers. I doubt I can match them, although I try.

Did you always want to be a communications and marketing person?

No, I first studied nursing, but for some reason, always wound up dealing with the public—publications, events, campaigns. But because I have an early background in nursing, I used that in an earlier job in Cincinnati and am applying it some in my current position. Only temporary, I’m afraid, but loads of fun. I’m running a weight-loss program for anyone in town who wants to compete.

What’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you?

When I got fired recently, I pulled up stakes to follow my boyfriend to Denver. On the way there, my car broke down, and I was rescued by a COWBOY! I was thrilled to be in the West and discover a real gentleman under his Stetson.

 What attracts you to a man?

Im proud to say, my tastes are changing. I used to be taken in by easy charm and good looks. With my move to Falling Rock, I’m now finding that a man’s strength—of character as well as muscles—is important. A man who’s absolutely honest and respects a woman’s opinions and talents. A man whose profile may not be perfect, in fact might be rugged, but with a lively intelligence that is irresistible. Wait! That sounds like the mayor of Falling Rock!

Falling Like A rock

BLURB:

When you’re ‘falling like a rock,’ you’ll risk anything.

Unloved and unemployed. That’s Elaine Svoboda, after she’s sacked, then flees across country to her boyfriend who drops her flat. Teetering on the abyss of disaster, she calls an old friend who invites her to a tiny mountain town with fresh prospects. There she meets rugged, hunky Joe Richter-Leon, mayor of Falling Rock.

Maybe he can help her find a job. Maybe they can become friends, even share romance. Sparks fly immediately, but major obstacles make a new life on the ashes of the old appear impossible. Joe’s consumed with challenges like the dismal local economy and an impetuous sister. Elaine butts heads with him at every turn in the rocky road. Are her bungling attempts to help the problem? Or does she remind him of a greedy, selfish ex-wife?

Before they can build a new life on the ashes of the old, she must overcome a few obstacles like a broken ankle, an eating disturbance, his stubbornness, and her own fears. She’s smothering her hopes when a battle with a forest inferno illuminates their true feelings and desire.

Funny and frank, poignant and perceptive, when two people are “Falling Like a Rock,” they learn surrender sometimes means victory.

# # # # #

EXCERPT

The movement now wasn’t rocking but more like a grind. A slowness. A shiver. She knew she had to leave the main road and find help. She swerved onto a pull-off that appeared as if by a miracle, turned off the motor, and sank into the seat. In all directions she saw flat monotone prairie. If spring was about to arrive, no sign of it blossomed here. An occasional bush of greenish sagebrush nodded, but most of the landscape consisted of earth-toned dirt and dirt-toned pebbles scoured by a constant wind, which threw a thin top layer of particles hither and yon.

What she knew about auto mechanics fit on a matchbook cover. She’d been shown where to fill up on gas and wiper fluid, and that was the extent of it. She flicked the ignition off and on several times, peered at the dashboard, even popped the hood. Nothing looked out of place or broken.

She returned to the driver’s seat to think and worry her tooth with her tongue. It wasn’t safe to sit out here alone, and dismal warnings from her parents to never trust a casual passerby in a situation like this darted in her mind. So she hauled out her cell phone. No service. She slumped in her seat.

The plains spread horizon to horizon around her, and an appreciation rose in her for the courage and hard work of the pioneers who had traveled one slow step at a time over an endless landscape to reach their new homes. At least nowadays an asphalt ribbon transversed the plateau. On the road an occasional semi whooshed past, rattling her vehicle as it traveled. One trucker slowed to a crawl and honked, but by the time she decided he was offering help, he’d disappeared.

She twisted her brain in knots to find some way to save herself. Surely if she were careful, stayed in her car and blinked her lights and beeped, someone should rescue her. Perhaps she should wait until a woman stopped, but another female would be as afraid to pull over as she to chance an encounter.

Clouds began to build in gray billows, flowed from west en route the east, and the sun plunged toward twilight. If anything terrified her more than an appeal to a stranger for assistance, it was spending the night out here in the open. In her rearview mirror, a battered Land Rover appeared, and almost on impulse, Elaine switched on her hazard lights and leaned on the horn.

The vehicle slowed but didn’t stop. Not until it was some yards down the road. Next a tall, lean figure climbed out, the engine still in operation. A man dressed in jeans, ski jacket, and a black Stetson. Elaine would have laughed if she hadn’t been worried about the security of the car door locks. She was in the West now. It made sense for a cowboy to show up.

He approached with careful deliberation, halting a few feet from her, and she rolled her window down several inches and studied him in case she had to describe him later to the authorities. Not particularly suave or polished, but certainly with the rugged strength typically associated with cowboy types. Dark, as if he spent time outside or had some Mediterranean or Latino ancestors. A prominent nose, off-centered, perhaps from being bashed once too often.

“Need help, ma’am?”

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SMASHWORDS

Bonnie McCune

BIO & contact info

Bonnie McCune lives in Colorado and is the author of novels, novellas and short stories. A writer since the fifth grade, her interest in the craft led to her career in nonprofits doing public and community relations and marketing. Simultaneously, she’s published news and features as a free-lancer. For years, she entered recipe contests and was a finalist once to the Pillsbury Cook Off. A special love is live theater. Had she been nine inches taller and thirty pounds lighter, she might have been an actress. Her entire family is book-mad.  Bonnie’s writing explores the highs and lows of everyday people and their unique lives with humor, close attention, and appreciation.  Her blog addresses “ordinary people, extraordinary lives” and also features samples of shorter works

Email:  Bonnie@BonnieMcCune.com

Blog : BonnieMcCune.com

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www.facebook.com/AuthorBonnieMcCune

www.linkedin.com/pub/bonnie-mccune/10/2a7/389