Tag Archives: opposites attract

Book Review

Review of Hometown by Wendy Rich Stetson

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This down-to-earth wholesome romance will wrap around you like a cozy quilt and warm your heart. Ms. Stetson has created in Tessa a heroine you can relate to and you sympathize when her as what she thought she wanted–a life in New York City–becomes tainted with the reality of spending time there.

In Jonas, Ms. Stetson shaped a hero who seems an unlikely match with forthright Tessa  at first but then ends up being the perfect man to help her realize her true goals.

I personally loved the peek at Amish life from the periphery and how she populated the town with characters you know you’ve met before.

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Release Day for Treise

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Today is the release day for Treise, part of the Rescue Me Mail-Order Brides multi-author series.

What’s special is I presented a heroine involved in women’s suffrage at a time when Wyoming was building its territorial government. Treise came from an Illinois town where a suffrage association existed for 14 years before the plot starts in early 1869. In this story, I used real names of those involved as a tribute.

BLURB:

Printer’s assistant Treise O’Hara works with her father who runs a small-circulation newspaper but wishes she could be a reporter investigating stories. Her father, Mahon, publishes a controversial op-ed about an unscrupulous business owner in Chicago. The newspaper office is invaded, and equipment is broken. Mahon is beaten and carted away. Hiding, Treise witnesses the attack and recognizes the thugs and who their boss is. She overhears their intention to bury him so she’s forced to go into hiding across town and stays in her cousin, Eveleen’s, room where she works as a maid. The women make a plan to answer ads for mail-order brides in a small city. Thinking her father is dead, Treise is counting on disappearing behind a new last name.

Sheriff Paxon Waldemarr works hard to keep the lawless element in Laramie City, Wyoming Territory, under control. His brother and sister-in-law were killed in a robbery, leaving their five-year-old daughter in Paxon’s care. He runs an ad for a mail-order bride, hoping for someone to care for his niece and maintain a household. His work life is hectic, and he wants calm at home. What he doesn’t expect is a determined suffragette intent on securing the vote for women in the new government. If her actions reflect on his career, how will their marriage survive?

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EXCERPT

“Mister Waldemarr?” Was this handsome man who she’d come to marry?

“We’re past the formalities. Please call me Paxon.” He stepped forward, then leaned close to brush a kiss on her cheek.

The gesture shocked her into silence. For a moment, she smelled cold air and something herbal. But the brush of beard stubble felt intimate, somehow. “All right, Paxon. And I’m Treise.”

“How was your trip?” He bent over to collect the bags.

The man had eyes of crystal blue like a frozen lake. “Long. The last several hours were downright cold.”

“Right. Welcome to Wyoming Territory.” He straightened, and his jacket fell open, exposing a black tailored shirt with a short, stand-up collar and matching waistcoat.

A glint of light flashed from a metal star pinned to his shirt. “Yer a lawman?”

Other conversations ceased.

After a stare around the room, Paxon transferred the bags to his right hand and cupped her elbow with his left. “Let’s go through to the hotel.”

Planting her feet, she straightened her spine. “I beg yer pardon?” The moment the question was spoken, she realized how much hadn’t been discussed about this arrangement. He might be a handsome devil with his Black Irish looks, but she didn’t travel across the country to toss aside her morals.

“Miss O’Hara, I wish for us to have a private conversation. The hotel lobby or the restaurant offers such a place.”

His whispered words blew warm breath against her temple, and she wanted to lean closer. Tilting back her head, she met his gaze, looking for a sign he intended anything except what he said. “Right ye are.” After two steps, she pulled away and spun toward the exit. “Me crate. I’ve got to claim it.”

“Crate? Do you mean you have a trunk?”

“Nay. A wooden crate. ’Tis marked with yer name and address.” A broad hand landed on her shoulder.

“I’ll claim the crate.” Looking up, he crooked his fingers in a beckoning signal. “Deputy Petrov, here, will escort you inside the hotel.”

Treise glanced at the muscled man with blond-brown hair who stepped close. She nodded, then watched over her shoulder as Paxon strode from the depot. Lordy be, she had not counted on such a man as him needing to place an ad in a matrimonial newspaper. A thrill went through her body. Maybe this decision would turn into an adventure.

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Holiday title promotion–Holly Bough Inn

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Writer Kaleigh Templeton types The End on her latest romantic comedy script and heads out for a much-needed vacation. That this week is the first time her young son is spending Christmas with his father provided the perfect reason for Kaleigh to pitch in at her best friend’s mountain inn. Stopping for coffee at a roadside restaurant, she encounters a brash, impatient hunk who definitely needs a dose of Christmas spirit. Five miles down the road, her SUV sputters to a stop, and she pulls into a turnout. Before she can hike to the closest callbox, she watches a huge truck pull in behind and faces the gruff guy from the restaurant. Of all the rotten luck.

Ex-Ranger Vonn Lennart needs some ski therapy to provide clarity as he decides his next career move after the end of his military service. With a goal of opening a security company, he has to make some fast cash and is contemplating a job offer of military consultant on a big-budget movie to film in the spring. On the drive to his vacation spot, he keeps running into a perky brunette who he discovers is staying at the same inn. Their paths cross several times, and he’s intrigued, even asking her opinion of the movie script. But when things get messy with the appearance of her ex-husband and a kid, Vonn wonders if he’s in over his head.

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EXCERPT

Fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the beat, she soon forgot the rude man. A sign appeared for the first road that led to several church-run camps. Right about here was where radio reception from her favorite Los Angeles station got fuzzy, but she could still catch most of the lyrics.

Around the next curve, a red Check Engine light flashed on the dashboard.

“No, no, no. What is going on?” Kayleigh peered ahead for a sign announcing the next safe place to pull over. Her father’s admonition about not ever driving with a lit trouble light rang though her head. Don’t damage Lemondrop—the car she bought for cash with the first-year royalties from her initial book series. She steered into the next turnout, rolling up to the front of the curved patch of asphalt, and punched on her hazard lights. This far up the mountain was past all the Cal-Trans call boxes. Kayleigh lifted her cellphone from the outside pocket of her purse and check the signal strength.

No Service.

Now she had to wait for a Good Samaritan to come along. She depressed the lock button and listened to the satisfying click. Maybe that person had cell service, and she could call Todd to come collect her. But could she accept help from a random stranger who stopped? Moreno pretty much ruined her trust in anyone keeping his or her word. Bright lights brightened the interior of her car. A glance into both the rearview and side mirrors gave only one clue about the vehicle—that it was taller than hers. Maybe she’d get lucky and the driver was the deputy sheriff, who lived in the tiny town she’d passed.

Footsteps moved closer on the pavement.

She tensed, then breathed out a long breath. Inside the car, she was safe.

Bare knuckles rapped on the driver’s window.

Turning, she stared at a set of muscled abs covered by a tight, black thermal shirt. Oh my. With a cheek pressed to the cold window, she glanced upward, then rounded her eyes. Her pulse beat a bit faster. Lit by the truck’s headlights, the man’s face was cast in shadow. But she still recognized him.

Coffee Guy.

The dark-haired man leaned down. “What’s wrong?”

Relieved she could hear him clearly from inside the SUV, she waved a hand toward the dashboard. “The check engine light came on. If you have phone service, could I borrow your cell?”

“Pop the hood.” He straightened and walked toward the front of the car.

The tone of his voice forced her to pull the lever. Here was a man used to issuing orders and being obeyed. She scrunched down in the seat enough so she could watch his hands through the slit between the open hood and the base of the windshield.

Angling his head in all directions, he touched engine parts and moved hoses.

At least, the guy looked like he knew what he was doing. Unlike Moreno, who relied on the dealer to keep his luxury sedan running in tip-top shape. Kayleigh stared at Coffee Guy’s hands and imagined submitting herself to his tactile inspection. Sucking in a breath, she straightened. Heat flamed her cheeks, and she grabbed for her cup, sipping her cooling coffee.

Being a divorced single mother for the past two years hadn’t allowed much time for dating. But that was no excuse for her thoughts to veer into a weird direction. Tisha told Kayleigh that she needed to put herself out there…but with a total stranger?

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Holiday title promotion–Lone Star Angel

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Mischief comes to Wayside Gap, Texas

A repentant ex-outlaw, Carnelian Wendell, visits her sister Amethyst, the cook on a Texas cattle ranch. The deaths of the bandit gang straighten out Carni’s reckless ways and she’s looking for a new life. Solitary rancher, Luc Tarrant, hesitates about adding this spoiled lady to his struggling ranch but soon discovers he can’t resist her irrepressible spirit. A trip to town exposes Carni to the sheriff’s curious eye and she is jailed for suspicion of train robbery. Luc develops a plan to spring her, but when the sheriff calls his bluff, Luc’s plan backfires, leaving the couple with a decision that will change both their futures.

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EXCERPT

“Whoa, Star, just a little breeze. Nothing more.” Carni Wendell pulled the reins to the left, wondering if she should have paid the stable master to drive her out to the Bar-T Ranch. This time she promised herself she wouldn’t be a burden as a visiting relation, so she’d hired the horse and cart for the month.

In the distance, dark clouds chased the afternoon sun from the base of a craggy mountain. A chilly wind blew across the west Texas hard-packed prairie, twisting a dirt devil and tossing stray tumbleweeds across the path. Star stopped and nickered as an apparition appeared on the horizon.

A dark horse with a rider cantered in her direction and stopped not ten feet away, scraping up a dust cloud.

“Take a wrong turn, lady?”

The broad-shouldered man’s voice was deep and full of suspicion.

“Easy, Star.” With effort, she pulled the prancing horse back to an uneasy stand and turned her attention to the stranger. His hat shaded his eyes, but couldn’t hide a strong jaw covered with beard stubble and a tight mouth pulled down at the edges.

A loose tendril of hair tickled her forehead. With a gloved hand, she tucked it under the knitted scarf wrapped over her ears and neck to fight off the chilly air. “I’m looking for the Bar-T Ranch. Would you know if I’m on the right lane? Can’t really call this uneven, pot-holed path a road.” She paused, expecting the silent stranger to answer.

Leather creaked at his shift in position. He rested a forearm across the pommel and stared.

“The stable master in Wayside Gap told me to turn south at the double fencepost. Not that I’m too good with directions, but those were the only double posts I saw.”

“Thought I recognized Einhardt’s mare.”

What? The man commented on ownership of a horse, not about the boundaries for a cattle ranch? She waited for his confirmation she was headed in the right direction. “So, I did take the correct turn?”

“Could be.” The man stood in the stirrups to peer over her shoulder. “What’s your business here?”

Carni’s gaze was pulled to the muscles straining the thighs of his muddy denims. The man obviously worked hard for a living. How dare a ranch hand question her? Rudeness was not to be tolerated. Grasping the reins with one hand, she reached under the cart seat to collect the velvet reticule lying at her feet. “I’m tired and I’m cold. As wonderful as our conversation has been, I need to get to the Bar-T ranch. I’ll pay you four bits to direct me to the ranch house.”

She dug out the coins and held them suspended over the side of the cart, staring with a narrowed gaze at the man’s shadowed face. When he sat as still as a statute with only his eyes tracking her movements, her temper simmered. However, discussing her personal business with a ranch hand was unthinkable. She shook her hand and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Okay, six bits.” Another coin was added to her hand.

The wind teased her skirts, flipping back the hem to reveal several inches of a red petticoat.

His gaze flicked to the exposed lingerie and the right side of his mouth quirked for just a second.

She saw his reaction and steamed even more. He’d taken advantage of the wind’s mischief instead of averting his gaze like a gentleman would. “A dollar for the directions. Take it now, I won’t be offering more.” Money well spent to remove herself from the belligerent company of this quiet man.

Several moments passed before he clucked out of the side of his mouth and urged the horse forward until abreast of the cart. “Whoa, Hades.” He held a cupped hand under her outstretched one, looked up from under the brim of his black hat and winked.

Heat flashed through her at his bold gesture. With a quick movement, she released her hand and let the clinking coins drop into his gloved hand. “Your boss will be hearing about your surly attitude.”

He shrugged and wheeled the horse, guiding it to the middle of the path. “Follow me.” Without a look over his shoulder, he trotted up the small rise and disappeared over the top.

 

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Holiday title promotion–Snowflake Cottage

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After receiving a life-altering health diagnosis, Jada Beldane heads to a holiday cottage in Sprucewood, Colorado. Armed with a handbook titled “Ten Days to Find Joy,” she vows to use every exercise to fight her way out of this funk and face a new year with a positive attitude. All she needs is a little time to herself and to stay away from children.

Following a disastrous marriage, single dad Graham Seaver does his best to avoid the tourists in his hometown. He’s determined to give his young daughter the best Christmas ever. Hopefully, keeping her busy will distract her from asking questions about getting a new mother.

On paper, Jada and Graham are a horrible match. But when the town’s scheduled events throw them together, will they succumb to the holiday magic?

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EXCERPT

In the clear light of day, playing like a child seemed the easiest from the book’s suggested tasks. Jada glanced at the swings, slides, and overhead bars. But she kept returning her gaze to the slightly tilted merry-go-round. When she was a kid, she used to love that apparatus. Pulling on her gloves, she looked in the car mirror. A few strands of long, dark hair dangled along her cheeks, and she tucked them into the forest green knitted cap. She took one last look at the book opened to the correct chapter on the passenger seat and scanned the instructions.

Play like you did when you were a younger version of yourself and every activity was an adventure. Tackle that single task and dig for your inner child to share the joy.

Once outside the car, she shivered and rubbed gloved hands along her arms. Even with a sweater underneath, this fleece jacket was not thick enough. When she knew skiing wouldn’t be part of the trip, she’d left behind her insulated clothes. Big mistake. Jada jogged to the merry-go-round painted in primary colors. She rested her right knee on the metal platform and shoved off with her left about every two feet in the wet dirt as the speed increased. Ah, the feeling of almost flying. Such a wonderful sensation for a kid who felt trapped by other people’s rules.

After she built up enough speed, she hopped on and slid her body flat, resting her neck at the outside edge. Miniature clouds formed above her mouth as she caught her breath. The cold from the metal platform seeped through her clothes. She hooked a leg around the upright bar in the center and stretched out her arms. The circling motion didn’t feel like too much as long as she focused on the puffy cloud directly overhead in the cornflower blue sky. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine all those times when she and Issie did—

“Daddy, what’s that lady doing?”

At the voice, Jada popped open her eyes and spotted two sets of legs—one jean clad, and the thinner one in gray sweatpants—as she circled. No…not a child. Her breath caught in her lungs and stuck. The merry-go-round slowed and came around again. The upside-down image of a tall man in a cowboy hat holding the hand of a small girl flashed then disappeared again.

“Spinning.”

“But why is a grown-up playing on the playground?”

Good question, kid. Unfortunately, Jada didn’t have an answer. She rubbed a fist on her chest to release the painful breath. Of course, a playground proved a risky place for avoiding kids. Why hadn’t she chosen a solitary child’s activity—like skipping rope or blowing bubbles?

“Dunno, Jellybean.”

“I want to spin and hang my head upside down.”

“It’s not safe.”

“But, Daddy…”

“No.”

The stern note prompted Jada to sit upright. Her stomach fluttered at the throaty warning. At the quick change in position, combined with the spinning, she swayed and wrapped both arms around the closest handle. His comment about safety stabbed her conscience. Setting an example for young observers never entered her thoughts as she sought her own enjoyment. A deep breath calmed her jumpy stomach.

“Let’s go to the swings.” The man stretched out an arm toward the other side of the playground.

“No, I want to spin.” The girl scrambled onto the platform and hugged the closest upright bar. “Hi, lady.”

“Hi.” Hearing the girl’s piping voice, Jada bit back a groan. The exact encounter she wanted to avoid sat not three feet away

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Backlist holiday promotion–A Promise for Christmas

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After a decade serving as a governess for a wealthy Chicago family, lively Fiona Carthage is ousted from her job and their house. She turns to the Matrimonial News and responds to an ad from a Colorado storeowner. Anson Lorentz, a man who prizes routine and a quiet life, sees the happiness a mail-order bride brought his friend and takes a chance on bringing a bride to Gunnison City. Fiona works to make his house into a real home. Her arrival sets his household upside down, which causes friction for this new couple.

Will Anson stand by his promise to provide Fiona a secure home, or will his newly discovered family ties sway his allegiance?

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EXCERPT

Why hadn’t they written physical descriptions of one another?

A few more seconds passed before a woman with auburn hair topped by a black hat paused at the highest step. She glanced around the immediate area then rested her gloved hand in the porter’s to disembark from the railcar.

Although not a close observer of women’s fashions, he’d seen enough sketches in the Montgomery Ward catalog to know her long coat was a style normally worn by women in a big city. As he approached, he took in her short stature and worried she lacked a scarf or muff. A frown pinched his features before he forced a smile. “Miss Carthage?”

The woman started then looked up. “’Tis I. And glad I am to have finally arrived. Are ye Mister Lorentz?” She glanced at the porter and nodded then stepped forward and extended a gloved hand. “Happy I am to meet ye.”

The lilting cadence of her soft voice was as he imagined—similar to Vika’s, yet all her own. Anson accepted the handclasp and squeezed, liking the connection with this pretty woman. She barely came up to his shoulder in height. “As am I.” Her chin was a bit pointed, but her lips looked well shaped, and her nose was straight. But her doe-like, wide-set eyes held him captive. Fiona Carthage was here, right here in his hometown. A day-long knot that sat in the pit of his stomach loosened. He released her hand then swept an arm toward the back of the train. “What luggage did you bring?”

“This satchel I’m carrying and a single trunk. Not much in the way of worldly possessions, ye might say. Mostly because in me past position, me employers provided me with everything I needed.” She ducked her head, and her shoulders raised and dropped. When she lifted her head, she smiled. “But I’m here to start anew.”

He debated about taking the satchel but figured he’d need both hands for carrying the larger item. “We’ll collect the truck and be on our way to my store.” Knowing the reverend expected them at the top of the hour, he set off toward the baggage car where he saw luggage being unloaded. At the second car from where they’d met, he didn’t hear an echo of footsteps beside him and glanced over his shoulder.

“Mister Lorentz, me stride is a wee bit shorter.” Pale faced, she approached then paused, pressing a hand to her left side. “I fear I canna catch me breath.” Her eyes widened, and she swayed, bringing up a hand to her forehead. “Oh.”

What to do? He couldn’t let her fall, but would she object if he embraced her? At the shuffling of her shoes against the planks, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and supported her back. “Take it easy. Just breathe deep.”

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Release Day for Rosie’s Gamble

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As arable farmland grows scarce, the United States opens up former sections of Indian Territory for homesteading. Those who want to claim land must make a run for it.

After seeing her mother die in childbirth, Rosabelle Ardmore decides to become a doctor. Her self-funded education takes longer than she’d hoped. When she returns to the job promised upon her graduation, she discovers the hometown doctor has died. His replacement has no use for a female doctor. Nor do two other offices where she applied. Rosie takes a chance on answering an ad for a mail-order bride for a man intent on the Cherokee Strip Land Run. Surely, people populating a new town will accept medical care wherever they can get it.

Beck Shepherd returned empty-handed from the 1889 Oklahoma land run. Trying it alone didn’t work. He vows to win a plot this time, but he needs a partner to achieve his dream of opening a mercantile. The easiest way is to arrange for a wife so he places an ad in a matrimonial newsletter. Ideally, level-headed Beck would like more time to decide, but Rosie’s two letters reveal the heart of a woman as determined as he is for a new start. But her bold plan for securing a claim might be the act that tears them apart…forever.

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Curl Up With a Book giveaway for $75 Amazon card

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As winter approaches in the Northern Hemisphere, my inner bookaholic rejoices because that means there’s ample opportunity to curl up and read. There’s nothing better than curling up with a good book, especially when it’s a freebie. N. N. Light’s Book Heaven is teaming up with almost fifty authors to bring readers new releases and backlist plus gift cards in this giveaway that’s sure to please any booklover. Free e-copy, print and audiobooks are just waiting for readers to indulge in. You can even enter one of mine. The list is long and personally, I’d love to win myself but alas, I can’t. So, I’ll just live vicariously through the lucky winners. If there’s a particular book or prize you’d like to win, be sure to say which prize you want when you enter via Rafflecopter. Enter below and good luck!

Curl Up With a Book Giveaway: https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db7750144

Today, Snowflake Cottage is featured as well as being on sale for 99cents for the next week.

Jada Beldane rents a holiday cottage to deal with a devastating health diagnosis. Single dad Graham Seaver wants nothing to do with tourists, but an accidental meeting causes sparks to fly.

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New release–A Match for Althia

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This novella is book 7 in Marianne’s Mail-Order Brides, which is an offshoot of the wildly popular Pinkerton Matchmaker series.

Chicago socialite Althia Heathley feels pushed out of her life by her father’s new wife. Convinced all she needs to write a great novel are a few more life experiences, she agrees to become a mail-order bride. But once she arrives in Denver, she’s not so sure she’s cut out to live in such a wild and less-than-civilized city.

Leather worker Diego Roldan needs a bit more culture in his life to help attract new business clients. But his first sight of his prospective bride clues him that maybe he asked for more than he can handle. She’s so refined and proper that he wonders how he can provide her with what she needs.

One of the men Diego put in jail during his years as a bounty hunter comes seeking revenge. Will Althia fall to pieces in a panic, or will the pair work together to save their fragile relationship?

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Release day for Sweet Inspiration

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Dependable Cadence Wills yearns for excitement. The owner of a yarn business, she is pulled in every direction by her demanding family. Haunting dulcimer notes draw her to a practice session where she spies an intriguing stranger.

Musician Rafe Frasco is a rover, bouncing between musical competitions. Interest ignites at his first glance at a woman enthralled by his music, who he learns has a heart big enough to encompass everyone within her reach.

A fantastic opportunity for Rafe presents Cadence with a dilemma—is she strong enough to negotiate the business deal that will take him away…maybe forever?

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EXCERPT

Unmarried and approaching thirty in a small town branded her as ready and willing to meet every unattached man who set foot inside the city limits. A sigh escaped. Like last week when Espe called Trent Sullivan over to their table at El Tres Amigos and then suddenly remembered an important errand, leaving them together. What Espe hadn’t known was Cadence and Trent already had been set up on blind dates—twice—by other well-meaning friends.

Nothing had clicked on those occasions either. Cadence craved someone with a mysterious past like in her beloved romantic suspense novels. A dark, shadowy figure who knew how to excite a woman with a molten look or a lingering touch. A man who fought to hide his pain and almost succeeded. Not someone like Trent—a guy whose high-school accomplishments she could probably recite.

Sweet plaintive notes of a stringed instrument floated on the breeze. Cadence stopped, straining to recognize the tune. A person didn’t grow up surrounded by folk music without knowing just about every ballad that could be plucked.

But this one eluded her. The twanging strings cried with a soulful sadness that grabbed her by the throat. Her thoughts were washed in loneliness, and she turned toward the sound, past the Heritage Herb Garden. A part of Cadence that couldn’t resist helping others had to see who was expressing such need.

She lifted the hem of her long skirt and hurried toward the haunting sound, as if the notes pulled her feet along the path. The compulsion to know who played added speed to her steps. Abreast of the groundhog pottery kiln, she slowed and peered toward the outdoor stage.

On the platform, several musicians were gathered—some unpacking instruments, others adjusting microphones. Off to one side, a dark-haired man sat in a straight-backed chair, one foot braced on a scratched case. He leaned forward and strummed a dulcimer, the light wood instrument cradled on denim-covered thighs.

Cadence stood a dozen feet away and studied the talented player. His too-long hair was tied back, his shoulders were broad inside his western-cut shirt, and his legs were long and lean. Scuffed boots, faded jeans and a worn Harley-Davidson tee-shirt composed his attire. Definitely more attractive than her own outfit. Even from this distance, she spotted a posture that meant the man had an attitude…or was mysterious. A thrill ran over her skin.

Who was this guy? He’d definitely swagger when he walked. Yummy. At the thought, she stepped closer, wanting nothing between her and the performance.

Long fingers picked the strings in a heated crescendo—note on teasing note, twang on shivery twang, strum on driving strum. He ended the song with a flourish, right hand arcing upward as the last note hung on the early morning air.

How did he know exactly how she felt on nights when everyone in Mountain View either had a date or was home curled next to a spouse? The isolation of being solo at the drive-in or enduring the knowing smile of a sympathetic waitress. His song wrapped all those feelings tight around her heart and squeezed. She inhaled, and the backs of her eyes stung.

Hadn’t she learned her lesson about musicians from the way Dale deserted her when his band got the chance to go on the road? Three years running, and he hadn’t yet steered the tour bus through his hometown.

The stranger laid a hand over the strings, rolled his shoulders, and lifted his head. Piercing brown eyes scanned the area, surveying the other musicians, and his gaze locked with hers. For a suspended moment, his gaze roved along her length, widened, and then returned to her face.

Under his scrutiny, she shifted her feet and tugged at the sides of her skirt. Her period costume didn’t exactly show off her figure to its best. Not that the fact should matter, but she couldn’t look away and chose to ignore the warning bells ringing in her head.