Mystic Cowboy: Men of the White Sandy, Book 1

by Sarah Anderson

  He was going to kiss her. He’d worked alongside her to fight the campy, he’d brought her home and cleaned her up, he’d apologized, he’d made a down payment on a modular house and now he was going to kiss her.

  She put her hands on his chest and shoved him back, just enough that his lips didn’t touch hers. Because she knew that as soon as he kissed her the deal would be sealed. He let her push him back, but his hands stayed firmly anchored around her waist.

  “You’re going to give up camping?”

  His grin got wolfish. “You’re doing it again.”

  She would not let him sidetrack her with all that talk of wants and needs—even if he was right. “I don’t care. You’re going to give up camping?”

  He nodded, waiting patiently.

  Her wheels began to spin. Apologies and homes were all very nice, but she was going to make sure they both read the fine print before they signed on the dotted line. “If you buy us a home, you have to get used to being certain places at certain times.”

  He tilted his head. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or irritated. “Understood. You’ll have to get used to having a sweat lodge in the back yard.”

  Like she even knew what a sweat lodge looked like. And who the hell had yards around here? “You’ll have to get used to Mellie coming out to visit,” she fired back.

  The grin got more wolfish. If only he had a longer nose, she thought. “You’ll have to get used to people dropping by looking for a medicine man.”

  She managed to keep the oh, yeah? to herself, but the rest of her thoughts devolved into a juvenile he-said, she-said kind of argument, which wasn’t exactly bitchy but still wasn’t giving in.

  “You’ll have to get used to going to Columbus.” Rebel Runs Fast in the Mitchell Mansion—she’d bet cold, hard cash that Aunt Matilda would drive herself down from Cleveland to see that sight. The thought got her dangerously close to a smile.

  He ran a thumb over that almost smile, and her bitch resolve wavered even more. “You’ll have to get used to going to New York in the winter.”

  He was trying to outflank her. Well, it wouldn’t work. She had ammo to spare. “You’ll have to get used to going to gala charity banquets.”

  Damn it, nothing was ruffling his feathers. “You’ll have to get used to gallery openings,” he said, like he’d been waiting for her to say it.

  That didn’t sound pleasant. But if it was only for a week or so... “You’ll have to get used to me being on call.”

  “You’ll have to get used to being married.”

  Outflanked. Completely and totally outflanked by a mystic cowboy who happened to be an Indian. Nothing came out of her mouth. Not a damn thing. He leaned in and kissed her, and in that exquisite moment, she didn’t care if she was awake or not. She only knew that she was where she belonged.

  “I will never let you go, Mad-e-line,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tight. “I couldn’t, even if I tried. I love you too much.” He leaned back and stared into her eyes. She saw herself, crazy white woman with crazy hair who just wanted to do a little good in this world. But she saw him too. A man who walked in two worlds. A man who wanted to find his place.

  She looked down at the flyer, with proof of down payment fluttering in the evening breeze on top. It wasn’t a ring, that much was certain. But it was a promise, all the same. Then she looked at him again. All the cocky wolfishness about him was gone as he waited. He wouldn’t let her go, she realized. Even if she said no.

  “Please,” he said. The glimmer of fear in his eyes was just that—a glimmer. But it was enough to tell her that she could still outflank him, still take him down with one word.

  “Please say yes.”

  But that wasn’t the victory. This wasn’t even a battle. This was the rest of her life.

  The rest of their lives.

  “Yes.”

  Victory had never been sweeter.

  Epilogue

  Nobody Bodine stepped to the edge of the shadows. The thin stand of pines was more than enough cover for him to see what he’d come to see. He’d been here on and off for months now, looking at what he’d lost.

  It was the same. It was always the same. Rebel Runs Fast, the one man in this world he counted as a friend, sat on the far side of the fire. He was beading tonight, his attention focused on his next project. Some nights he sat and just watched the fire, some nights he worked, other nights he had his brother and his family over to sit around the fire with him. Sometimes, he went riding.

  Rebel was never alone.

  His wife, the white doctor, was always with him. When he worked, Madeline sat on her padded chair next to him at the fire, reading with this weird little book light attached to what Nobody assumed were medical journals. When Rebel was lost in those trances that came to him, she inched closer to him, watching him with the kind of intent devotion that could only be true love.

  No one ever looked at Nobody like that. Nothing even close. What he got was fear from strangers, and disgust—contempt even—from those who thought they knew him. No one knew him. Only Rebel had ever come close.

  Rebel looked up from his beading, his head cocked to one side. Nobody froze. He was silent—hell, he was always silent. Nobody ever heard Nobody, and nobody ever saw Nobody, not unless he wanted them to. But Rebel was not just anybody. He was a medicine man. He saw what the spirit world wanted him to see, heard what the spirit world wanted him to hear.

  Before he’d married the white woman, he’d been the only person to ever see and hear Nobody.

  To Rebel, Nobody was a part of this world. He’d belonged here in this world, just as the wind and the rocks and the river belonged here. To Rebel, Nobody wasn’t just a nobody, who came from a nobody and would always be a nobody. To Rebel, Nobody was a man to be trusted, a man to be believed. Nobody was a man who counted.

  Nobody didn’t trust the white woman. He trusted no one—except Rebel—but the white woman was especially suspicious. She seemed to be a good woman, from what he could tell from the shadows. She was a doctor, and she had patched him up without question.

  But she was still an outsider—a woman, and a white one at that. Her judgment of him was different from others—she had never known his mother, and knew nothing about the hell that had been his childhood. But she still sat in judgment of him and found him wanting. Nobody wasn’t good enough to share Rebel with her. That much was clear every time she jammed her hands onto her hips and scowled at him. Which was every time she saw him.

  Which was why Nobody stood in the shadows of the pines, watching from his hiding spot.

  Rebel was sitting straight up now, looking at him. Well, not quite looking at him. His eyes were searching the trees. He didn’t know where, exactly, Nobody was. But he was getting close. Nobody stepped back farther into the shadows.

  “When you are ready,” Rebel called out to him. “You have a place by the fire.”

  When he was ready? He would never be ready.

  He didn’t belong here.

  He didn’t belong anywhere.

  About the Author

  Award-winning author Sarah M. Anderson may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out west on the Great Plains. With a lifelong love of horses and two history teachers for parents, she had plenty of encouragement to learn everything she could about the tribes of the Great Plains.

  When she started writing, it wasn’t long before her characters found themselves out in South Dakota among the Lakota Sioux. She loves to put people from two different worlds into new situations and see how their backgrounds and cultures take them someplace they never thought they’d go.

  When she’s not helping out at her son’s school or walking her rescue dogs, Sarah spends her days having conversations with imaginary cowboys and American Indians, all of which is surprisingly well-tolerated by her wonderful husband. Readers can find out more about Sarah’s love of cowboys and Indians at: www.sarahmanderson.com or www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-M-Anderson-Auth
or. You can also find Sarah at Twitter: @SarahMAnderson1, Pinterest: sarahmanderson2, Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/4982413.Sarah_M_Anderson or contact Sarah by snail mail at Sarah M. Anderson, 200 N 8th ST 193, Quincy IL 62301-9996.

  Once their love was under wraps. Now it’s burning up the sheets.

  Private Scandal

  © 2011 Jenna Bayley-Burke

  Three months ago, Megan Carlton had the world on a string. That was before the man she loved took over her family’s hotel business and wiped out a family fortune it had taken generations to build. And before she caught him kissing another woman.

  Her only solace: the secrecy of their affair saved the family from public scandal, and kept her embarrassment private. Meanwhile, with a mountain of self-confidence to rebuild, she trades her Manolos and late-night parties for coffee-stained sneakers and early morning barista shifts.

  Brandon Knight had everything he ever wanted—then the woman of his dreams disappeared without one word of explanation. When he finds Megan serving coffee, he wonders if the socialite is suffering from amnesia. A hot venti to the chest proves she recognizes him. But she’s got the situation—and him—all wrong. All he has to do now is prove it.

  Warning: Samhain Publishing cannot be held responsible for any characters harmed by flying handbags, improper use of a door or the misguided application of hickies. All activities involving lingerie, towels or ice cream are to be executed with extreme caution.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Private Scandal:

  She slipped her hand in his and lust snapped around him like a whip as he pulled her up. She slid right into place, her body skimming his as she stood. He recognized the passionate promise in her gaze. Blood thrummed in his veins, anticipation simmering as her eyes met his.

  Her shining blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, the waves curling about her face. He lifted a finger to her cheek, tucking the loose waves behind one ear and then the other. She really was breathtakingly beautiful, with features fit for the most fairytale of princesses. Before he could think about the repercussions, he moved his hand to the nape of her neck and threaded his fingers in the warm, silken strands. He curled his hand around the back of her head to hold her still, because he couldn’t stand for her to turn away now. He lowered his head, hesitating for a split second before his lips found hers.

  A bolt of sensation shot through him as the world faded into a whirling haze. With the kiss, he tried to show her just how much he’d missed her, how much he hated that he had a hand in what had happened to her family. But as his body went from hot to blazing, he could only think of how long it had been since he’d had her naked.

  He skimmed his hands across her soft skin, loving the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. Her body had always screamed sex to him. He saw her and went hard at the promise of sizzling, wild, mind-blowing sex.

  It took nothing but a look and he was ready for anything she had on offer. He moved his hands around to her bottom and pulled her closer, his erection pressing into her belly.

  Megan’s hands pushed at his shoulders, breaking the kiss. She arched a brow and gave him a naughty smile. “I think I’ll take that bath now. Alone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave a coquettish giggle and nodded. “I’ll let you know if I need help with anything, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  She stepped back into the laundry room and pulled her shirt over her head. The cream-colored lace edging on her black bra sent his pulse running. She tossed her shirt in the washer and started it up. She stretched for the detergent on the shelf over the machines, but couldn’t quite reach.

  Thankful for a reason to get close to her again, he made his way into the small space and snagged the container. She gave him a smile as she added soap to the wash, but it was painted on, not genuine like before. He knew he’d pushed too far with the kiss. He just couldn’t help himself after so long without her.

  “Megan, I know things between us are complicated right now, but—”

  “We’ve always been very uncomplicated, Brandon. Pleasure for pleasure, no responsibilities, no awkward complications.” She undid her belt and slid it from the loops, then set it atop the dryer.

  “It feels awkward right now.”

  “That’s because we want different things.” She unfastened her jeans and slid them over her hips and down her legs. Her blue eyes sparkled as she grinned this time. “You want to take care of me, and I want to take care of myself.”

  She was the queen of the double entendre. He couldn’t count the number of times she’d worked things into conversations at parties and events that had him ditching everything to be alone with her. He cleared his throat and fisted his hands for strength as she bent over to step out of her jeans. Her breasts were amazing, but when she leaned down they were delectable.

  After tossing the jeans into the wash, she reached behind her for her bra clasp. Brandon swallowed hard, and wished for time to speed up. He ran his hand over the top of the dryer, his fingers playing with the soft leather of her belt.

  The heat is on...

  Into the Fire

  © 2012 Donna Alward

  First Responders, Book 3

  The last person firefighter Chris Jackson expects to rescue from a burning animal shelter is Ally Gallant—his ex-fiancé. Even though three years have passed since she gave him back his ring, one look at her frightened face in the haze of a smoky building is all it takes for him to realize he’ll still do anything to protect her.

  Ally’s put her heart and soul into the shelter, and she’s devastated when it’s destroyed. What's more, Chris is suddenly there for her in ways she doesn’t expect—ways she’s sure she doesn’t deserve—as she makes decisions about her future. Then there’s the not-so-small matter of the blazing passion between them that refuses to be extinguished.

  But when Chris is injured while on a call, Ally’s reminded of all the reasons she walked away. Now she must look deep within herself to find the courage to put fear on the back burner and step into the fire—into love.

  Warning: Adorable dogs, a hot firefighter and five-alarm passion. Fire extinguisher (or cold shower) highly recommended.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Into the Fire:

  Chris put down his glass and reached over to put his hand on her knee. “It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”

  “I hope so.” She toyed with her glass. “It was a big job getting it going in the first place. Now it’s like starting all over.”

  “What about insurance?”

  She shrugged. “Insurance will cover some of the contents, I suppose. But the building wasn’t ours. We rented it. In fact, we were looking at relocating because the landlord wanted to raise the rent. As a charity, that’s a tough pill to swallow, you know?” She sighed. “We don’t have a choice now. But we’ve also lost all our equipment, cages, food...”

  “Don’t think about it.” Chris could tell she was feeling overwhelmed again. “You can figure that out later. One thing at a time, and right now it’s looking after you. Making sure you’re okay.”

  She looked at him so sweetly he nearly forgot the edge of bitterness he still felt when he thought about their breakup. It still hurt, knowing they’d been so close but that she’d been able to walk away so easily.

  “I’m okay thanks to you. A lot of animals are okay thanks to you. You saved us today, Chris.”

  He’d left his hand on her knee, and now she put her hand on top of his. It was warm and soft, and without thinking he turned his over so his fingers were twined with hers. For all the hurt, he’d never hated her. It was impossible to stay angry with Ally. She was too kind of a person.

  That kind nature was part of why her leaving had hurt so bad. It would have been easier to get over her if she’d been nastier, selfish, vindictive. But she was none of those things. She never had been.

  “I was just doing my job,” he said. But he knew that wasn’t strictly true. For a second today, it had been intense
ly personal. All he had to do was think about her wide, frightened eyes and he had the urge to pull her into his arms and protect her.

  He was suddenly aware that his thumb was stroking the soft skin at the top of her hand. And that she hadn’t pulled away.

  “I was so scared,” she whispered. “I knew I had to try to get as many out as I could, but I could taste the smoke and hear the fire and I was terrified. And then you were there.” She slid over on to the cushion between them, turned and put her arms around his neck. “I was never so glad to see anyone in my life.”

  “You’d never know it.” His voice came out all husky, and he swallowed, putting an arm around her back, trying to hold on to his composure. It was difficult when she was pressed against him, smelling like his shampoo, wearing his clothes. “You started barking orders.”

  “Only because I saw you and I knew it would all be okay. I knew you’d make sure it was okay.”

  It was the grandest statement of trust he’d ever heard. And certainly unexpected from her, who’d been so disapproving about his training to be a firefighter and had made no secret of her feelings. She’d hated the fact that he’d wanted to be a fireman. But he had no regrets. The only thing that had kept him sane for the first year after their breakup was how much he loved it. He still did, even if it was only as a part of a volunteer department. He could have gone somewhere else with a paid department, but he’d wanted to come back to the one place that was home for him. This way he got to have both the job and still stay in the valley. It was where he belonged.

  She was pressed against him and he closed his eyes. He could feel her breasts against his chest, free from constraint inside the soft T-shirt. He turned his head slightly and his lips touched a wisp of hair just behind her ear. A breathy sigh fluttered against his neck and he felt his judgment weakening.