He pulled her back against his length, and she closed her eyes. His rigid stance warmed her from her knees to her shoulders, and an apprehensive trembling began in her stomach and flowed outward until she feared her legs would refuse to support her. "Jakob."
"Hmm?" he murmured through the hair behind her ear.
A shiver rippled across her shoulder and down her arm. His warm breath tilted her world on its axis.
Jakob's heady attack on her senses increased her resolve with an almost frightening passion. He desired her. He'd chosen her over any other woman. She tamped down a sprouting of guilt that she should feel such pride. She would not let him down. "Will you kiss me?"
His hands stilled on her shoulders. His patience was worn beyond endurance. He didn't know if he could kiss her without wanting more. The texture of her fragrant hair, the scent of her skin, the feel of her woman-soft frame, assaulted his senses and inflamed his body. Holding back was the most exquisite torture he'd ever known.
She faced him. "Jakob?"
"Lydia, I don't know if it's such a good idea, what with you standing here like that, and—"
"Don't you want to kiss me?"
An internal flame lit his blue eyes. "I want to kiss you. And a whole lot more."
"Let's find out. Let me do this. For both of us."
His heart thundered. Though determined to wait, he'd come to her already inflamed, wanting. Her words intensified his desire painfully. Once he started, he knew, he'd never stop. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
Jakob's pulse throbbed everywhere.
"Bitte."
The word was a solid punch to his gut. Please. He framed her face with his palms, spearing the hair at her temples with his fingers, and turned her face up to his.
“Heaven Can Wait is a fantastic piece of Americana.
Cheryl St.John is a rising talent with a bright future."
~ Harriet Klausner
Rain Shadow
Raised by the Lakota Sioux and having traveled with the Wild West Show for many years, Rain Shadow is unprepared for a forced stay at the home of Anton Neubauer while her son recuperates. He is a rock, a man who has lived on and farmed the same several hundred acres since he was young.
Anton needs a mother for his son, but he needs someone domestic and ladylike, not the Smith & Wesson toting female who sets up her teepee in his front yard and whose target practice wakes him at the crack of dawn. But fate, two little boys and two old men conspire to keep them together, and it’s too late to deny their passion once love is part of the equation.
~ * ~
Read an excerpt:
He took her hands, rubbed them vigorously between his and slanted his head toward her face. Firelight flickered over her features, lashes drooping over smoldering violet eyes. He read the desire in her eyes, her open lips, the traitorous breath that escaped her flared nostrils. He wanted her. Satisfaction impaired his judgment. He wasn’t angry. His body throbbed with ungratified longing.
Her gaze shifted to the loft above.
He should have used that tiny hesitation to collect his wits and remember the danger in displaying the least vulnerability, but he discovered his heart wasn’t as hard as he’d worked to make it. How could he resist her when she looked at him as if he was the only pool of water in the middle of a desert? “They’re asleep,” he assured her.
It was so like her to reach for him, to take what she wanted. No shrinking violet, Rain Shadow was ardent rather than romantic, one of the many unusual things that drew him to her, much as he resisted. She placed her fingers over his lips, and he kissed them. She ran her index finger across his lower lip, and he dropped his gaze to the pulse at her throat, beheld the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her shirt.
Her hands fell to his shoulders. Anton rose to his knees to kiss her. She met his lips and plucked a series of moist kisses across his mouth. He returned the caress, sliding his nose into the soft skin behind her ear, running his teeth along the column of her throat. He opened his mouth wide and sucked at her flesh.
The rocker creaked as she slid forward and found his shirt buttons. Her fingers worked them loose and slid inside.
She traced his collarbone, his shoulders, her cool fingertips sliding over his heated skin. Her touch made him feel like a man again, a prideful, ego-boosting sensation he hadn’t experienced for a long, long time—if ever. She ran her palms across his chest, his muscles reflexively tensing. No one had ever touched him like this. In awe of the pleasure she took in him, in his flesh, his kiss, he forgot to breathe.
His hungry expression kindled Rain Shadow’s appetite. She could barely think when she touched him, less when he touched her—she could only feel. And right now she felt as if a fire had ignited deep inside her and spread beneath her skin. He was a beautiful, golden man, and she needed him to soothe the flame his eyes, lips and hands fueled. She should have felt clumsy and inexperienced, but stroking her palms down his chest to his hard, flat belly, his reaction gave her a power that excited her beyond measure.
He inhaled so sharply, air whistled through his teeth. He clamped his fingers over her wrists and wrapped her arms around his waist, covering her mouth in an unrestrained melding of lips and tongues.
Rain Shadow dug her fingers into his back, eagerly returning his kiss, silently cursing the barrier of their clothing between them.
“Anton,” she whispered against his lips.
He pulled back, holding her so he could look at her.
She threaded her fingers into his hair.
He loosened her grip and held her hands between them, regret in his eyes. “I can’t do this just to prove something to myself.”
She tried to focus on his words.
“It’s not fair to you.”
“Anton, I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
He released her, and immediately coldness and emptiness enveloped her. Sitting on the floor, he scrubbed a hand across his face, hung his head and bracketed his temples with thumb and fingers. She stared at him in confusion.
As if sorting his words carefully, he dropped his hand, wrist draped across his knee, and met her gaze. “I’m not a gentleman.”
She would have laughed had her body not been weeping for his. She made a pretense of straightening her clothing. “You’ll have to understand if that doesn’t come as a revelation to me.”
“Listen.” He stood and paced the small room, coming to stand behind her chair. The clock on the mantel ticked away interminable minutes. Wind whistled at the crack beneath the door. “You scare me,” he whispered.
Her heart tumbled drunkenly. She curled her toes into the rug. “Why?”
“You want everything just as much, just as hard and fast as I do.”
She only knew she wanted him. No doubt she’d breached some unspoken rule of propriety. Perhaps wives didn’t want everything as hard and fast as their husbands. Humiliation burned her cheeks. “How unladylike of me.”
“No, Rain Shadow.” He knelt beside her chair.
She forced herself to meet his earnest gaze.
“No,” he whispered. “I was proving something to myself.”
“That you could have me if you wanted?”
“No.” He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across the back. “Please, don’t think that.”
“What am I supposed to think?” She watched his thumb stroke back and forth and wanted to draw it to her mouth, wanted to pull all of him against her, inside her.
He laid her hand in her lap. “Just think about what you really want. Think about it tomorrow when we’re not together, and you can see more clearly.”
When you’re not near, and my judgment isn’t influenced by my traitorous body, you mean. “All right.”
“Go to bed, now.”
She rose obediently, gathering her boots and socks. The clock chimed, punctuating her good-night.
“Good night, Rain Shadow. Sleep well.”
Rain Shadow almost laughed. Any sleep at al
l would be a miracle.
Land of Dreams
In this tale of hope and love, too-tall spinster Thea Coulson wants to be a mother to a child who arrives in Nebraska on an orphan train. When Booker Hayes shows up to take his niece, a marriage of convenience suits them both. Thea’s nights are filled with dreams of the tall, dark army major, but she guards her heart. Booker’s first taste of home and hearth has him longing for more, but first he must win the trust of his niece…and the heart of the sun-kissed farmer's daughter.
~ * ~
Read an excerpt:
"I want to see her," he said at last.
Apprehension tightened every nerve in her body. Thea glanced at his hip. No weapon rode there, but that didn't mean he didn't have one concealed beneath the dark jacket. He was a powerful-looking man... a stranger. Trudy and Thea's half-sisters had gone visiting. Her father and Denzel wouldn't be back until noon. How would she defend herself and the children if Mr. Hayes threatened them? She glanced at David, content with his playthings. Then she thought of the revolver she kept in her bureau upstairs.
Reconciled, she led him up to her bedroom. In the center of the four-poster slept Zoe. Thea's wedding ring quilt was tucked around the little girl's legs and feet. Aunt Odessa had sewn the quilt thirteen years ago for Thea's hope chest, and a few winters past Thea had resignedly decided to enjoy it before the moths did.
She breathed an inward sigh of relief at Zoe's sound sleep and stepped to her bureau.
Mr. Hayes stood beside the bed and studied the child. Stealthily, Thea opened her top drawer and found the gun beneath her handkerchiefs. Gripping it, she buried her hand in the folds of her skirt.
After several long minutes spent watching his niece deep, he glanced around, took stock of the hand-crocheted white bedspread and curtains, the rose-patterned wallpaper and the silver-backed brush and comb set on Thea's bureau. When he turned, she wondered at the shimmer she thought she'd seen in his eyes.
He strode from the room, and she followed him briskly along the hall, down the stairs, through the house to the back door. He jerked open the door and marched into the yard.
Thea felt foolish holding the gun at her side. What would she have done with it? "Mr. Hayes..."
He stopped and cast her a dark glare.
She couldn't think of anything to say. If he was who he said he was, he would get Zoe next time. "Where will you take her?"
The man didn't waste time with careless gestures. "There's a soddy on my land. I'll stay there until I get my house finished."
A soddy? She'd lived in one twenty years ago before her father had built their home. There'd been snakes, and the roof had leaked.
The black gelding with white-stockinged forelegs snorted from the yard's edge and shook its massive head impatiently, its snaffle ring jingling across the open yard. Mr. Hayes calmed the horse with a quiet word and the touch of his palm over the beast's nose.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, matching Thea's turbulent emotions. The self-assured man settled a flat-brimmed hat on his head and swung into the saddle in one graceful movement. A rifle hung in a leather holster from the military-issue saddle.
With two fingers, he touched the hat's brim in a parting salute. "If you mean to use that gun, make sure it's loaded. I'll be back."
A jagged streak of lightning punctuated his vow. He wheeled the horse and galloped in a northeasterly direction. From the west, Thea heard her father bringing in the team before the storm broke. Behind her, David fussed. MaryRuth would be coming for him soon. The men would be ready for dinner in an hour, and she hadn't started the meal yet.
Thea closed the door and leaned her forehead against the wood.
He'll be back.
Saint or Sinner
In this heartwarming tale of redemption, Joshua McBride returns from the war a changed man, ready to put down roots and plant his feet in the community. Prim and uptight Miss Adelaide Stapleton, leader of the Dorcas Society, doesn’t believe he’s changed—people are never what they seem. But she has plenty of secrets of her own—among them the inescapable fact that Joshua sets her heart to pounding and makes her long for his disturbing kisses. How long can she keep her own past hidden—and resist temptation?
~ * ~
"...a beautifully rendered story told with compassion and a true understanding of both small town life and human nature.” ~ Kathe Robin, Romantic Times Booklovers
~ * ~
Read an excerpt:
He'd finished the front and side of the fence, and was working his way across the back to the point where he'd started that morning. Addie surprised him by walking across the yard toward him with a glass of lemonade. He'd hung the clean shirt on a nail near the back porch and put the dirty one on again. Her gaze flicked across his chest and down to his hip, where the gun rode once again.
"Thank you."
"For the fence?"
"For taking off your gun, for leaving your shirt on today."
"You prefer me with my shirt on?"
She flustered. "I don't prefer you one way or the other, Mr. McBride. I simply appreciate your adhering to propriety."
"Is that what I did? Hmm... You're welcome."
"You'll stay for supper tonight, since you don't have to go back for Yancey."
"Was that an invitation or an order?"
She held his gaze. "An invitation you can't refuse."
If he didn't know better, he'd think that was humor he'd heard in her tone. "All right."
He drank the lemonade and handed her the glass. Their fingers brushed unintentionally. Quickly she turned and hurried back to the house.
Having finished the posts, he started on the horizontal boards between them, working until daylight waned. Finally he packed his tools, washed, and knocked on the back door.
Addie ushered him in, and busied herself making him a plate.
"What about Yancey?" he asked when he saw the table set for the two of them.
"He ate earlier, when we realized you weren't stopping."
"You didn't have to keep everything hot for me."
"It was no trouble." She sat across from him.
No trouble? He couldn't remember anyone going out of their way for him before, and her thoughtfulness touched him. "Where is he now?" he asked.
"We read while it was light enough outside, and—"
"Yancey can't read."
"I read to him."
Joshua wished he could have heard that. He pictured her sitting on the swing, Yancey beside her. "That was nice of you. He loves books."
"So I discovered. I found a tin of beads, and he's stringing them now." She sat across the table from him.
Joshua dug into the plate of ham, potatoes and green beans. It was nice of her to wait and join him, but he thought it wise not to mention that. He had the distinct impression she didn't want to be nice to him.
Maybe she was just lonely. Once again he wondered why she lived out here alone. She was young, but attractive enough to have married by now. His thoughts skipped over the single men of Van Caster, Ruben and Ricky Dean among them. There wasn't a big choice, was there? But there were activities that united the entire county. Surely she'd have met someone.
Maybe she'd been burned. He took the second helping she offered. Maybe someone—someone like he used to be—had taken advantage of her and hurt her. That would give her cause to dislike, even mistrust, him.
She cut him a wedge of apple pie and filled his cup with steaming black coffee. She did know how to soften a man up—not that he needed any softening. And he, the hell-raisin'est son ever born in Van Caster, hadn't the first idea of how to soften her up. He couldn't draw from his past experiences with women. Sure, he knew the things they liked to hear. He knew the way to seduce a female into compliance. But that wasn't his intention.
He wanted her respect. Along with the rest of the town's. And that placed him at a definite disadvantage.
Heart pounding, Addie cleared away the dishes. "Let's take our coffee on
the porch," she suggested. McBride followed her through the tiny parlor, where Yancey had fallen asleep on her worn settee. She'd seen how tired he'd grown while she read to him, and she'd suggested he lie down if he got too sleepy.
Addie sat on the swing and left room for McBride, but he politely sat on the wicker chair. Drat! How did one initiate a kiss? She'd been kissed before, several times by disgusting men who hoped to take advantage of a young girl, but only once by someone she hadn't hit or run from. That kiss had been from a boy her own age, in some town she couldn't even recall now.
She had liked it, had liked him. But her father had pulled one of his schemes and immediately moved them to a new town. And she'd never even had a chance to tell the young man goodbye.
Addie had learned etiquette from books. She'd learned about the nature of men from life. But she'd never learned about relationships. Not that she wanted a relationship with this ruffian. She just wished she knew a little more about men and women... together, so she'd know what to do.
Obviously she couldn't just get up and go kiss him. Could she? No, of course not. She'd have to work around to it. Tempt him. "Do you read, Mr. McBride?"
He sipped his coffee. "A soldier gave me his Bible before he died. I read that quite a bit."
The thought of him reading the Bible fascinated her. "Did you learn anything?"
He seemed to think for a long moment. "I think I learned to be satisfied."
"With yourself?"
"With what I have."
"What about with yourself?"
"Well, I—I learned I wasn't satisfied with who I was."
"So why did you come back here?"
It took a minute for him to reply. "I had a lot of wrongs to right."
"And you think fixing boardwalks and building churches makes up for your past?"
A Husband By Any Other Name Page 21
