Wednesday Western - More Honky Tonk Hearts

Honky Tonk Hearts

Lonely hearts seem to gravitate to the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk. A few miles outside Amarillo off historical Route 66, the large wood-paneled structure boasts a large neon star with a single flashing steer riding away from it. Owner and bartender, Gus Rankin, has seen his share of the wandering souls cross his bar and dance floor over the years—he’d even like to think he helped a few find true love along the way.

www.thewildrosepress.com

Those Violet Eyes

by 

Vonnie Davis

Soon after I signed with The Wild Rose Press, I noticed talk on our author’s Yahoo loop regarding various series. Many sounded fun and interesting.  So when Stacy put out the submissions call for the Honky Tonk Hearts series, I knew I had to give it a try.

Unfortunately every idea I came up with sounded lame and…well…the expected, the ordinary. Nothing grabbed my attention. And if a story idea wasn’t grabbing me by the throat, it surely wouldn’t appeal to a reader. So I set aside the wish to participate in what promised to be a great series.

Then late one night as I was in that fluttery fragile state between wakefulness and sleep, a man on a Harley rode into our bedroom. He got off his bike and adjusted his stance to accommodate his prosthesis. Somehow I knew he was a veteran who’d lost part of his leg in Iraq. He took off his helmet, sat on the edge of the bed and asked if I’d write his story.

Those Violet Eyes releases TODAY, June 27^th.

BLURB:

Evie Caldwell hoards every penny for her escape from the servitude life created by a worthless brother and the endless work on a ranch that will never be hers. The last thing she wants is a muscled man with a macho Marine attitude complicating her life. But, oh, how that man can make her insides do the twitchy thing.

Wounded vet, Win Fairchild, returns to Texas to heal, find a piece of his soul and open a ranch for amputee children. Finding someone to love was not on his agenda. Nor was dealing with a wildcat, until she captures his heart with those violet eyes.

But now that he knows what he wants, can Win convince Evie to stay in Texas—and his bed?

Excerpt:

Evie charged through the swinging door to the kitchen and skidded to a stop. It couldn’t be. Although his back was toward her, there was no mistaking the height and broad muscled shoulders. This mystery nephew of Gus’s was the guy who’d remarked on her eyes. Her stomach did a little twitchy dance, nerves no doubt.

She ran her suddenly damp palms over her short skirt and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Win?”

No answer.

She took a couple steps closer and noticed he was washing vegetables under a spray of water. “Win?”

No reply.

Evie rolled her eyes and stepped behind him, tapping him on the back. The metal strainer clattered in the sink and a blur of motion barely registered before steely hands gripped her forearms. Oh my God! In a flurry of movement, he snatched her off the floor and backed her against the stainless steel counter. Cold wet hands viced her arms. Her eyes snapped wide and the air whooshed from her lungs when his body slammed into hers.

Win’s eyes were narrowed, his breathing rapid through a clenched jaw and a vein bulged in his forehead. “Don’t do that.”

The man was every inch the warrior, every hard tensed inch. He held her mid-air, so close they were nearly eyeball to eyeball. As his gaze traveled over her face and awareness evidently crept in as to the sex of his attacker, several inches of his frame hardened even more.

Evie swallowed. Oh, good Lord.

He glared and his nostrils flared.

“I…I’m sorry, Win. I called your name, but…but you didn’t answer. I was only trying to get your attention.” Her lips twitched at the humor in the situation—hadn’t Keira told her the man lost part of his hearing? Evidently she’d startled him. Poor soul. She felt a portion of herself return. A portion she’d hidden for so long; that light-hearted part of her soul that teased and cajoled. “Honest, I wasn’t trying to attack you.” She placed an open palm on his defined pecs and patted. “You’re safe with me, big guy.” Just to rattle him some more, she winked.

Win’s hazel eyes flashed for a second, then he slowly leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re not safe with me.”

FIND ME ON THE WEB AT  www.vonniedavis.com

BUY LINK AT THE WILD ROSE PRESS:

http://bit.ly/ThoseVioletEyes

LOST MEMORIES

Sherri Thomas

Lost Memories is a story I started a couple of years ago, but put on the back burner for a time. Then I heard a country-western song that reminded me of a scene I wrote. Over and over these lyrics played and replayed in my head until I had no choice but to dust off the pages and write Nick and Darcy’s journey. Weeks into their bumpy ride The Wild Rose Press posted submissions for the Honky Tonk Hearts series. Coincidently, I had already written a scene involving a bar, which later turned into the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk. To me the two branded together without difficulty or pain J. After submitting and revising a bit, I was ecstatic to receive word that they wanted to contract Lost Memories. We are in the editing stages now and I will be sure to let you know when I receive the release date. 

BLURB: LOST MEMORIES

   

When your past is a blank, it’s hard to trust the future…

A car accident leaves Darcy Brooks with amnesia, but she’s determined it won’t ruin her life. She finds a job on a dude ranch—hiding her brain trauma to get it—and falls in love with her work. Now if she can just avoid falling in love with her boss.

Nick Matthews knows his new employee is hiding something, and he’s determined to discover what. He’s failed to protect his family from disaster in the past and won’t let it happen again. Now if he can just keep his attraction to Darcy from clouding his judgment.

Nick soon comes to value Darcy as an employee and a friend—even as the heat between them builds. But when a man claiming to be Darcy's husband shows up, Nick realizes just how much he wants to keep Darcy for himself.

UNEDITED EXCERPT: LOST MEMORIES

Darcy rose onto her elbows. Yuck. Her jeans were caked with the mud and who knew what else. Anxious to get out of the stench, she placed her palm Nick’s. Her heart skipped a beat, and she forgot to breath.

He tugged on her arm pulling her to her feet. She slammed into his chest as his arm went around her waist. The momentum made her step back into one of Horace’s holes, knocking them both off balance, and her on top of his hard chest. Air whooshed from her lips. She stared at him in horror.

Oh, God, he was sure to fire her now.

“I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” She moved her leg, catching her boot on the cuff of his jeans.

”No.”

Specks of mud splattered his face. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as she wiped the dirt from his cheek, making the damage ten times worse. His skin was warm and bristly under her finger. She quickly withdrew her hand.

His thump swiped a clump of sludge off her check.

She sucked in a breath. This was not right. The way her body succumbed to one touch of his hand was wrong. 

Nick moved his leg. Every hard inch of him pressed into her flesh, branding her to him. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

A spark ignited in her toes and heat worked through her body. His chest rose and fell in a rapid pace beneath her palms, but her own air suspended in her lungs. She fought a wild urge to rake a fingernail over his unshaved jaw and pulled her knees up in an effort to get to her feet. Large hands encased the back of her thighs in a stilling motion, and she ending up straddling him as he rose to a sitting position. A helpless gasp robbed her of speech.

His eyes strayed to her lips.

Her stomach fluttered. Ripples of anticipation churned deep inside. She forced herself to look away. His magnificent body was off limits. He's my employer for goodness sake.

She gave herself a mental shake and swallowed the moan rising in her throat.

Why don’t I feel this way around Sam, Trent, or Chris?   

“I must look quite a sight,” She commented trying to escape her own thoughts.

“We both do.” He smirked, revealing a devilish indentation in his left cheek.

When did he get a dimple? She didn’t remember seeing one before.

Muscles flexed under her, the warmth of him seeped through her jeans. She glanced away wondering how to talk her jelly filled muscles into getting up. Failing to persuade her body her sights returned to his seconds later. Green specks highlighted his brown orbs - another new finding to keep the breath from my lungs.

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Wednesday Guest- Vonnie Davis

Vonnie Davis lives in southern Virginia with her writer husband, Calvin, and one disgruntled cat. Calvin has him on a diet since his belly sways back and forth when he runs—the cat’s tummy, not Calvin’s. She has six grandchildren she’d love to tell you about, but space here is limited.

What led you to write romance?
Romance is what I read. Except for the occasional suspense read, like Robert Ludlam’s Bourne series or an interesting biography, I read exclusively romance. I don’t care if it’s historical, contemporary or paranormal, as long as it’s a story of two hearts coming together. If it is, I’m right there with the characters, cheering them on. Yes, I am a romantic.

What do you feel are good traits for becoming a romance author?
The desire to improve. Competition is fierce out there. The world is full of romance writers—there are well over 10,000 delightful, talented writers in RWA alone. To even stand a chance, one has to learn the craft and learn it well. I have a degree in English with a concentration in technical writing. I retired as a technical writer. I knew how to write. What I didn’t know was the craft of writing. Point of view, character development, character arc, conflict, conflict resolution and on and on. Silly me, I thought all I had to do was write a story.
A broad knowledge of the genre. This is why I almost exclusively read romance. Although I have a few established favorites I enjoy, I mainly read debut authors. Older writers—those repeatedly on the NYT best sellers list—are selling on the merits of their names and the numbers of their followers. Debut authors are held to a higher standard. Their writing is crisper. Their storylines more unique. My advice to new writers is study debut authors. They were published on their talents and strengths of craft.
A universal love of men. One of our goals as romance writers is to make our readers fall a little in love with the heroes between the covers of our stories (pun intended, ladies). Study men. How they talk in incomplete sentences, grunts and growls. Observe them when they’re happy, when they’re bragging, when they’re preening for a woman, and when they’re madder than all get out. And they are such a delight to observe.
A desire to portray women in a positive light. Are you old enough to remember weepy, fragile women in older romances? They used to drive me bananas. I love strong women. I write about women who’ve turned adversities into advantages. We are not airheads who can’t go through life without a man. We can do quite well on our own, but when a man comes into our lives who adds a special dimension, well…
A willingness to allow your characters to lead you around by the nose. And they will. They will invade your dreams, niggle at you while you’re watching a movie and sit on your shoulder and hiss remarks in your ear. You know, encouraging things like, “Woman, are you nuts? I’d never do that. You’re making me sound like a submissive female.” She thumps my head with her index finger and then pushes up her sleeves. “Write what I tell you. Let me show you how to handle this arrogant alpha male.”

What's next from you? I have a short story (novella) accepted into the Honky Tonk Hearts Series, tentatively titled Those Violet Eyes. (Yes, I do love my Texan cowboys…sigh). I also have a romantic suspense, Mona Lisa’s Room, going through final evaluation by a senior editor. This fast-paced story is set in Paris, my favorite city in the world.

Blurb for Storm's Interlude:
Nurse Rachel Dennison comes to Texas determined to prepare her new patient for a second round of chemo. What she isn’t counting on is her patient’s twin brother, Storm Masterson. Despite her initial attraction, Storm has two things Rachel can’t abide: a domineering personality and a fiancée.

Half Native American, with the ability to have "vision dreams," Storm dreams about Rachel for three nights before her arrival. Both are unprepared for the firestorm of emotions their first encounter ignites.

Ultimately, it is Rachel’s past—an abusive, maniacal ex-boyfriend—that threatens to keep them apart…and Storm’s dreams that bring them together again.

Excerpt:

“You might as well come out and join me.” His deep voice caressed her senses and beckoned. How did he know she was watching him? She wiped her hands over her shorts in a nervous gesture. Did he know how long she’d been standing there, staring, dreaming…yearning?
Embarrassed, Rachel stepped out onto the porch and stood next to the man who had moved into her mind—lock, stock and saddle. “Good morning.”
He saluted her with his mug. “Mornin’.”
His eyes were so intent on her that, for an instant, her mind went blank. Her attraction to this man had to be channeled into friendship—merely friendship. “Thank you for burning me that CD. I can’t wait to play it.”
“You’re welcome.” A faint blush crept up his neck.
She took pleasure in his discomfort. If she felt uneasy around him, she was glad he was obviously suffering from the same feeling. “How long have you been up?”
“An hour, give or take. Did you have your yogurt?” He drained his coffee and set the mug on the porch railing.
“Yes.”
“Good. I don’t want any low-sugar episodes like yesterday morning.” He jerked his head toward the horizon. “This is the best place to watch the sun come up. Our best views of sunsets are on the patio, but here, right here is the spot you get a great view of the sunrise. Nothin’ like a hill country sunrise.”
The curve of the golden sun peeped above the mountains in the distance. Shimmers of apricots and reds undulated like dancing rays celebrating the birth of a new day. Birds began singing as if to welcome the sun. “Oh, you’re right. It’s beautiful. I guess you do this every morning? Drink your coffee and watch the sun come up.” She looked up at him.
He never spared her a glance. “Yup.”
His freshly-shaved face was relaxed. The smell of his soap and aftershave filled her nostrils. She wanted to bury her nose in his neck and inhale his masculine scent for hours.
She smiled again. “You always so talkative in the morning?”
“Yup.” He turned slightly and smiled at her. She laughed. Lordy, but he had a disarming smile. His dark eyebrows wrinkled. “Why do you wear such revealing clothes to run in?”
She glanced down at what she was wearing. Frankly, right this minute, she couldn’t remember what she’d put on. “What do you mean? It’s just a white running bra and red shorts.”
“Running bra?”
“Not that kind of bra.” She slapped his arm. “Running bras are made for women to wear in public. They provide more support for…for…our…ah…the running female.”
“Yes, and more eye candy than the average guy’s heart can take.” He looked over her shoulder at her derriere. “Damn if those shorts shouldn’t be declared illegal.”
She’d had enough. “If you don’t like the way I look, then don’t look at me.”
“Easy now. Never said I didn’t like it.”
She huffed an irritated breath. “Then what?”
He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her to him. “Then, this…” His lips crushed hers and sparked a response like two electrical wires arcing, sending showers of white-hot flashes. Fireworks. Oh, yeah, there were most definitely fireworks. She fisted her hands in his long hair.
His tongue swept across her lips, a silent request. She opened her mouth and accepted. He moaned and moved a powerful hand to her bottom, pressing her to him.
When he lifted her, her arms wrapped around his neck, their hungry lips fused, seeking what they both needed. Oh, God, this was even better than the first kiss, even better than his kisses the other night on the horse. He turned and pushed her back against the pillar. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Rach…God, honey.” His teeth scraped down her neck, and her eyes crossed.


Buy Links:

http://amzn.to/pkkcLq -- Amazon.
http://bit.ly/pb9DQd -- Barnes and Noble Nook
http://bit.ly/rcCIMa -- The Wild Rose Press