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Crawley Creek Series Volume 1 is only #99cents for a limited time!

by on August 13, 2016

Have you been dying to read the ‪#‎CrawleyCreek‬ Series? For a limited time get Volume 1 for ‪#‎99cents‬! The first 3 stories for one LOW price to celebrate the release of Handcuffed By Destiny on August 23!

Grab it now on Amazon, and share with your friends!

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Excerpt from Forget Me Knot:

There was a couple of inches of snow drift across the front lawn, but when she turned the corner and faced west, brown grass poked through just a dusting of snow, and the wind stole her breath from her lungs. Grey clouds filled the sky and the scent of snow was on the air. Tipping her head down, she hurried across the yard to the massive barn doors, pausing only long enough to tug one open and squeeze through it.

Compared to the cold outside, the warmth of the barn was intoxicating. The smell of animals and hay filled her nose and she sneezed loudly.

“Bless you.”

The deep voice was followed by a masculine chuckle, and she jerked in surprise looking for its owner. When she didn’t immediately spot anyone she frowned.

“Thank you, um, whoever you are?”

A black cowboy hat appeared over the top of a stall next to a brown horses head. Under the hat was a strong face, with a sharp jaw and a meticulously trimmed goatee and mustache. His nose was a little large, and as she stepped closer she could see that it was also slightly crooked with a telling bump in the middle. The smile on his face was amused as he allowed her to look her fill. But his dark black eyebrow rose when she remained quietly standing several feet away from him.

Concern filled his brown eyes and he reached one long arm over the stall door opening the latch. Her vision suddenly filled with the huge sexy body of a real life cowboy and she felt her chest tighten. He was beautiful. Black curly hair peeked out from under the brim of his hat, barely curling over his ears and the collar of his heavy brown coat. His wide shoulders filled out every spare millimeter of the material, and a powerfully built chest drew her gaze further down until her eyes struck gold. Framed by perfectly cut chaps was a thick looking bulge of blue denim and zipper, and Lacy nearly groaned out loud at the many wicked images running through her brain.

“Are you all right?”

She jumped in surprise at his question and felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks. “Yes, I’m sorry. That was ridiculously rude, please excuse me.” She stepped forward with her hand out, “I’m Lacy Denvers.”

“Ah, Denvers, yes Marilyn said we were going to have a guest for a couple of weeks.” The hand that took hers was enormous, and it engulfed her grip until she could barely see her own skin. She could feel calluses on his palm and a shiver went up her spine at the touch. What would that feel like on other more sensitive parts of her body? “Pretty unusual for someone to book a vacation in North Dakota in the winter.”

She was taken aback by the comment, and frowned up at him. At five foot eight, Lacy wasn’t a short girl, but the cowboy was at least eight or nine inches taller than she was, so her head had to tip back to see his eyes. “I booked the trip last summer. I wanted to get away from the city and I wanted to learn how to ride. Is that a problem?”

“Want to learn how to ride, huh?” The teasing flirtation in his voice made her pussy clench and her breasts swell. This time it was his eyes that slowly wandered down her body taking in every bit of her before coming back up to meet her pointed gaze. “I have no doubt that you can learn how to ride like a pro here at Crawley Creek.”

She nodded sharply refusing to acknowledge the innuendo. His eyes had turned a darker color, and his pupils had grown along with the bulge behind his zipper. The attraction was clearly mutual. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she turned back to the horse he had been working with in order to give herself some breathing room.

“She’s pretty, does she have a name?”

The cowboy stepped closer to the stall. Suddenly her palms were sweating too, and she was glad she had on so many layers so that he wouldn’t be able to see the hard nubs of her nipples poking through her shirt.

“She is a he, and his name is Toto.”

Lacy snorted and then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry, you don’t mean, Toto like the dog in Oz do you?”

“Is there another Toto?”

A giggle slipped out, and then turned into a full on loud laugh. Toto snuffed in his stall and looked at her with large brown eyes. The cowboy seemed amused at her enjoyment. He stepped closer and reached his hand up to run it over Toto’s forehead. The horse nuzzled him, and bobbed its head asking for more affection.

“Here, reach up and touch him. He’s like any other male, if you stroke him right he’ll be yours.” His voice was low and deep, and his eyes were locked on Lacy while she reached up to run her hand over the soft white spot on Toto’s forehead. Toto truly did seem to appreciate the gesture, and he tipped his nose to sniff at her arm.

“He’s beautiful. This is the closest I’ve ever been to a real horse.”

“Toto is honored to be your first.”

Lacy’s eyes darted over to look at the cowboy. His flirtations weren’t subtle, and his eyes blatantly said that he would be up for a hot sweaty fling. She pondered for less than a breath before she turned to face him.

“Are all cowboys this forward?” She cocked her head to one side watching him. His eyes shuttered and the heat seemed to seep out of them instantly.

“I apologize. It’s not often a beautiful woman appears in the barn out of nowhere. I have some more work to do, but you’re welcome to look around, just make sure to stay out of the stalls without someone with you. All of the horses are gentle most of the time, but accidents happen. You’re such a wisp, one kick and you’d be done for.” While he spoke, he reached back over the wall of the stall and pulled up a bucket that must have been on a hook inside. There was a collection of unusual tools inside the bucket, but she didn’t have a chance to ask him what they were before he was headed down the walkway and out the doors.

Excerpt from Beginnings:

“I’m sorry Mrs. Crawley, but the news isn’t good.” The doctor’s kind face had deep-set wrinkles bracketing his thin lips and framed a smile, but today they made his tipped frown seem pitifully sad. “It seems you have a hostile uterus.”

Sera stared at him trying to absorb his words, but all she heard was “hostile”.


“Yes. Basically your womb isn’t an ideal place for the implantation of a fertilized embryo. The likelihood of you ever conceiving is slim, and even if you did conceive, the chances that the pregnancy would be supported longer than the first trimester are extremely improbable. I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear—”

“Not what I was hoping to hear?” She knew she was in shock, and that made it all the easier to blast her disappointment with anger. “I think that’s putting it rather mildly Martin, don’t you? And why are you calling me Mrs. Crawley? My name is Sera, and I’ve been coming to you for almost fifteen years. You know everything there is to know about my physical health, and you’ve never once mentioned that I had a hostile womb.”

“Seraphina it’s not something I could have known based on the standard pelvic tests we do annually. The fertility testing you had in Grand Forks highlighted some disturbing inconsistencies. As you know fertility science is still in its infancy. We only know so much about why the female reproductive organs are sometimes lacking. I’ve reviewed your tests extensively, and I even had a colleague of mine review them for a second opinion. Unfortunately, he agreed with my results. You’re barren.” Martin Warburg took off his glasses and set them on the desk in front of him, his gaze sympathetic. After several moments of tense silence, he sighed and gestured to the phone on his desk. “Would you like me to call Abe for you?”

Abe. Her husband. The man who’d loved her for the last fifteen years unconditionally. The sweetest, kindest soul on the planet. He’d supported her through month after month of negative pregnancy tests, and ten years of disappointment. Now she had to tell him that she was a defective wife. Unable to give him the children he so badly wanted. The family they’d dreamed of creating together.

“No. Thank you, but I need some time to…um…digest this information. I’ll talk to him soon.” Rising from the hard wooden chair where all of her dreams had been dashed, Seraphina Crawley brushed her braid behind her shoulder, and picked up her pocketbook. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Martin rose to his feet quickly, and began to move her way. “Sera, you shouldn’t be alone to process this news. Let me call Abe and have him come collect you. Your car will be fine here in the lot.”

“I said, no thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and all the time you’ve devoted to this, but now that we know how futile it is… Well, I suppose it’s best to just let the things that are out of our control, go. Tell Lenora that I said hello.” Reaching for the handle on the door, she hurried to put as much distance as possible between herself and the terrible news.

The sunshine was dimmer, and the day seemed significantly drearier as she stepped out of the office onto the sidewalk. Montford was a very small town, so there was no one on the street to see her sorrow as tears began to fall from her eyes. By the time she’d settled in behind the wheel of her car, she was gasping for air around the sobs of pain that echoed around her. Logically, she knew they were from her own throat, but somehow it seemed she was completely separate from the emotional response. She could feel herself trembling, hear the sniffles, and taste the vomit on the back of her tongue, but she still wasn’t ready to accept it was real. No matter what she did, or how healthy she lived her life, she’d never be a mother.

She’d known instinctively for a while that something was wrong. She was an only child, but not for lack of trying. Her parents had always wanted more children, but medical science wasn’t as good in the forties and fifties. Nowadays they were able to give women more of an idea of what was wrong…in most cases.

Struggling to calm her raging emotions, she closed her eyes and focused her energies on slowing the tears. Once her breathing eased back to a normal rhythm, she reached for the keys and shoved them into the ignition with a silent prayer that her old clunker would start today. The last thing she needed was more to deal with. Between Montford and Crawley Creek she would have twenty minutes to figure out how she was going to tell her husband the bad news.

At thirty years old, she felt like her life had just ended.


Excerpt from Rough Ride Romeo:

Horror washed over Roman when he twisted around to find a woman standing just inches from the tailgate of his truck. Thankfully, she looked unharmed, but she also looked pissed off. By the time he’d thrown the door open to get out, she’d darted around the truck and was in his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You just ran over my bike!” she yelled, slamming her palm against his chest and knocking him off balance as he tried to stand up. He landed on his ass on the seat with his legs spread off kilter, and her right between his knees glaring daggers at him from her cobalt blue eyes. Rich, brown hair was tied back in a messy braid, and a pair of aviator sunglasses sat on top of her head, but it wasn’t her shades that drew his attention. It was her fury, and the frustrated anguish that filled her curses. “God damn it! Why the hell weren’t you…how the hell did you…damn it!”

Lifting his hands in an attempt to calm her, he murmured, “Easy there, sweetheart—”

“Don’t start that country boy charm shit with me, bucko. I’m not buying it. You just wrecked my bike, and you’re going to pay for the damages,” she snapped, poking her finger into his chest. Standing in front of her now, the size difference between them was more obvious. At just over six feet, Roman was fairly average height in this part of the country, but this little biker chick was more than a half foot shorter than he was, and based on the way her jeans and t-shirt clung to her body she was perfectly molded underneath.

“I’m not arguing that a bit, Miss…” he paused hoping she’d fill in the blanks, but she just spun on her heel and headed back to where her bike was still stuck under the back end of the truck.

Dropping to her knees, she ran her hand over the handlebars which were now slightly twisted. “Oh Hal, my poor baby. Damn country folks don’t even know how to drive in an empty parking lot. I can’t believe with all of this space around him he couldn’t even manage to…damn it all to fuck.”

Well she certainly has a colorful vocabulary, he thought, and an oddly personal relationship with her motorcycle. The bike didn’t look terrible, but then again, it was hidden in the shadow of the truck. Reaching for his keys, he stepped closer to her, and said, “If you’ll just scoot over some, I’ll pull forward and we’ll see what the damage is. I’m awfully sorry about running over your bike, but—”

“But what? But it was somehow my fault that you backed over the one and only vehicle besides yours in the whole parking lot?” she demanded.

Damn she was a squirrelly one. There was something about the fire in her eyes and her fierce temper that clashed with the frustration and sorrow in the slump of her shoulders. She was more than just angry over the accident. Something else had this strange woman upset.

“No. It was absolutely my fault. I was just going to say, I happen to know a mechanic that can fix it for you. I’ll cover the cost, of course.” He tried to relax all of his body so that he didn’t seem threatening in any way. For some reason, he really wanted her to trust him, and give him a chance to make things right. He wanted to protect her from whatever demons were haunting her.

The moment the thought raced through his brain he tossed it aside. That was the silliest thing in the world. He had no interest in getting involved in anyone else’s demon hunting. He had plenty of nightmares riding around with him every day. No, he was just offering to take care of this because it was his responsibility as a human being. He’d caused the damage, and he’d fix it.

“What happened here?”

Bran’s deep voice made Roman groan and lean his head against the door of the truck. Just what he needed.

“This dumbass just backed over my bike!” the petite little hellion said, tugging at the saddlebag that was caught on his trucks trailer hitch. “If you smashed my laptop I’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you.”

Her threat made him grimace, and cover his family jewels as he exchanged a sick look with Brandon. Shoving his hat back out of his eyes, Brandon bent to take a look at the motorcycle and then shook his head. “You sure did a number on it, Romeo.”

“Romeo? Is that your name? Officer, I want this man arrested, or fined, or something.”

Bran was clearly fighting back a grin as he nodded. “It’s Sheriff Bowers, ma’am, and this dumbass”— Bran gestured to Romeo—“is Roman Freemont. I certainly understand why you’re upset Miss…”

This time she didn’t leave the opening hanging. “Scott, Franki Scott. And I’m way more than upset.”

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One Comment
  1. Reblogged this on Books, Coffee, and Crafts News and commented:
    Crawley Creek Series Volume 1 is only #99cents for a limited time! Awesome series. I gave each book 5 stars in my reviews.

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