Favorite Western movies/TV shows (in no particular order) High Noon The Magnificent Seven Unforgiven Dances with Wolves Django Unchained No Country for Old Men Shane Godless Lonesome Dove News of the World Deadwood True Grit Longmire Gunsmoke Maverick Bat Masterson Bonanza The Last of the Mohicans Westworld *** Exclusive Excerpt: As Caleb started back along the trail, he stopped short. The braying of the mule and the shouting of Preacher were enough to wake the dead. Caleb ran hard toward the sound. He rounded a bend and saw them in the distance. It was just as he’d feared. The minister was shouting like a madman over the terrified sounds of the mule. His arms were up, and he was waving a branch of evergreen at something Caleb couldn’t see. That branch wouldn’t have done a lick of damage to a newborn lamb. He knew what Preacher was trying to do, though. Caleb was covering ground quickly, but he was still several hundred paces from them. He ran full speed, leaping to avoid protruding rocks and roots. The trail dipped into a wash, and he lost sight of them for a moment. The hoarse shouts of the minister and the continuous…

Even in Rem’s wildest dreams, he never would have thought a bomb would bring Bristol Bachmann back into his life. He had been pretty sure he’d never see her again, no matter how much he wished otherwise. He followed her fast descent down the stairs into the me­chanical room, her black Lab easily traversing the narrow, almost ladderlike stairs. How could she suddenly be here, at one of the dams in his charge? And did she have to be exactly the same as he remembered? She still told it like it was, no matter how much it hurt to hear. Her swinging ponytail revealed she still had the same long, wavy brown hair with hints of mahogany, though he couldn’t see the highlights of color in the murky belly of the dam. That adorable hint of a cleft still nestled in her chin, and her gray-blue eyes drew him in like a magnetic storm cloud. A cloud that had unloaded on him the last time he’d seen her. The memory of her fury rained on his mental walk down memory lane. He had deserved no less then, but right now he didn’t need her to remind him of his past…

Hello! I’m so excited to be here at Fresh Fiction, sharing an exclusive excerpt from my upcoming release, ROYAL TROUBLE. The second book in the Royally Engaged series, ROYAL TROUBLE is a stand-alone romcom that asks the question, What happens when a member of the royal family unwittingly falls in love with a celebrity dirt reporter? If you like laugh-out-loud banter, sizzling chemistry, and swoon-worthy HEAs, keep reading for a sneak peek at Xander and Everly’s story and a wardrobe malfunction of royal proportions! … The bathroom door burst open with such force it smashed against the stopper before it was slammed shut again. Xander whirled to see Everly throw herself against the door and flip the deadbolt. When she turned to face him, chest heaving, she gave a startled squeal and clapped her hands over her mouth, covering the full lips he’d just been fantasizing about. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was more disheveled than when he’d left her, the chocolate and toffee strands brushing her collarbones in loose waves. Everly’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she dropped her hands to her sides. “That’s not the reaction I usually get from the ladies,” he said, lifting a…

Thirteen years ago, decorated former Army Ranger Roman Sheppard rescued Mexican heiress Cenobia “Cen” Trujillo from a shocking kidnapping that riveted the world. Now, this reluctant warrior prince–head of an elite security firm and the lost prince of a small Spanish kingdom–has come to Mexico to once again protect the heiress-turned-CEO as growing threats work to derail her launch of a car that will change the Mexican industrial landscape for the better.  Cenobia hopes his close proximity will allow her to finally figure out if what she feels for him is a teenager’s daydream or a grown woman’s reality. Roman, however, is doing everything he can to resist thinking of her as his sweet Cen. *** He was the sensation she knew he would be in the vast room with its spectacularly decorated high ceiling of stained glass, its giant chandeliers gleaming off marble floors, and large, gold framed mirrors that made the room boundary-less. National and international representatives of the auto, oil, and gas industries, many who were wealthy enough to buy small nations, weren’t immune to the presence of royalty, no matter how reluctant the royalty was. Roman shook the hands and said the words, but quickly demurred…

Danielle: Hi, Wendy! Welcome to Fresh Fiction. Please introduce yourself and tell us a little bit about your new book, THE BREAK-UP BOOK CLUB.  Wendy: Thanks so much for inviting me to share my latest novel. It’s great to be here. THE BREAK-UP BOOK CLUB revolves around a book club that meets in the carriage house of a historic Atlanta home turned bookstore and explores the ways in which books can bring even the unlikeliest people together. At its core, it’s a story about the kind of friendship that gets us through the toughest times. Book clubs are almost like a rite of passage in life at this point! Have you been in book clubs over the years? What do you think makes a great “book club book”?  I’ve spoken to a lot of book clubs over the last twenty plus years, but I hadn’t belonged to one for almost that long. As part of my research, I joined a group led by a former independent bookseller and longtime friend. The book club lives on Meetup and attracts a more diverse group than the neighborhood group I once belonged to and many that I’ve visited. This opened up and impacted…

“So, about Book Five…” Sara’s attorney, David, finally stopped fiddling with his glasses. He clasped his hands together, swallowed hard, and fixed his gaze firmly on Sara. “Your mom wants you to write Book Five.” Sara laughed. David didn’t. Sara laughed again. More like a confused sputter. Then with a quick gasp, the whole amusing absurdity of the joke settled in and Sara laughed fully and deeply. This was actually a very funny joke. “Aww, David. You know the Graysons too well. You did get my attention, though, with the hands-clasped-together and that scary attorney look—like I’m going to find out my mother is broke.” David laughed nervously. “No, your mother isn’t broke. But yes…she did choose you to write the book.” That’s when Sara noticed David’s sweaty brow and how he wasn’t wiping it. Two beads of sweat hung there, practically defying gravity, and David didn’t budge. Sara’s stomach dropped to her toes, and disbelief washed over her entire body. “David, you can’t be serious. The book’s already written. It has to be. Mom’s a finisher, a closer. I heard Anna-Kath ask her about the final book. Mom said it was taken care of. I heard it myself.” David…

There was only one other car parked on the dirt-packed lot at the entrance to the falls, a silver Mercedes with “Just Married” scrawled on the rear window. Shrugging off his curiosity, Noah locked the doors of his rental and headed for the trail, hoping Jack was right and a bit of peace awaited him at the bottom that would quiet the ants. Noah paused at the top of the trail going down, frowning at seeing the white heels, one upright and the other on its side. A pair of white stockings were draped over a nearby bush. He glanced back at the Mercedes. Was he going to stumble on a bride and groom, and what the devil were they doing here of all places? He almost turned around to leave, but curiosity got the better of him. If he discovered them getting it on—a distinct possibility considering the bride was shedding clothing—he’d discreetly disappear. Going down in stealth mode, he reached the bottom of the trail, stopping dead in his tracks when a feminine voice said, “Cheers to me.” He blinked and then blinked again. A woman wearing nothing but lacey white panties, a white corset, and a veil…

You’re a big believer in the importance of opening paragraphs. Please elaborate. I’ve got two favorites. The first is from A Tale of Two Cities, whose first sentence is, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” I also really like: “Fear presides over these memories, a perpetual fear.” That’s from Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America. When I open a novel for the first time, I want to be intrigued or amazed or unsettled—right from the start. In addition, within a few sentences, I’m eager to get into the rhythm of literary language, which encourages me to continue to turn pages. The opening line of my debut novel in 2018—My Mother’s Son—has been commented on by almost all of the reviewers: “When you’re a kid, they don’t always tell you the truth.” It’s followed by, “They tell others that they don’t want to hurt you or they think you won’t understand. But in reality, it’s just easier if they tell you what makes them feel good, or what gets them out of a jam.” Readers tell me that this braces them for the unexpected, and this is precisely how I wanted them to react. Here’s…

Exclusive chapter excerpt from THE BACHELOR BARGAIN by Maddison Michaels, for Fresh Fiction. Being hauled over the back of Sebastian’s shoulder like a sack of coal, with her derrière resting high near his head, was not how she imagined the evening ending. In fact, some would think it rather mortifying, even though Livie found it a tad thrilling. She’d never been carried by any man before, well, at least not since she’d been a child. Though it was slightly uncomfortable being jostled on his shoulder while he stalked down the street, presumably to where her carriage was waiting. Hearing some horses in the distance, Livie knew her assumption was correct. Just as quickly as he’d scooped her up, he swung her down, careful to keep one hand of his on her waist as she steadied herself while he placed her cane in her other hand. Her breath caught in her throat from the touch of his hand against her own; even through her gloves she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His hand was so large and work-worn, so very different from the manicured and soft hands of the gentlemen she knew. It was a hand capable of…

Maybe it was the low cloud cover this morning, but the ocean sounded so much louder today. She had a feeling it would be a brief stay the way the wind was whipping. The kids ran in circles at the shoreline, letting Denali chase them until he needed a break and ran to lie by her feet. She got up and met them at the water with their pails. “Y’all ready to find some shells?” They began scouring the sand. She knelt down and picked up a handful of tiny vibrant-colored shells. Most of them were broken, but a purple one caught her eye. She tucked it inside her pocket while the children quickly filled their pails with shells at every step until their buckets got heavy. When she looked up, she noticed they’d walked farther down the beach than they’d ever gone before. “Let’s head back,” Amanda said. Denali lay down in the sand. “We can’t leave him,” Hailey whined. “He’ll catch up.” At least she hoped so. There was no way she’d be able to carry him. “Do you want to stop and go through your shells? Lighten the load by getting rid of a few?” Jesse lugged…