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MACK'S WITNESS

By Myla Jackson

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Blurb

Tired of eating sand and dodging bullets, Marine Captain Mack Magnus is ready to relax and enjoy his brother’s Dublin wedding. If that involves a few pints in a quaint Irish pub and getting laid by a pretty Irish lass, all the better.

Instead he winds up getting ordered around by the cousin of the bride. Fed up with her mouthy attitude, he kisses her to shut her up. Now he has a new mission: get into the sexy redhead’s panties.

Busy international model Deirdre Darcy knows the six-foot-four Marine’s type: hit-and-run sex and off to the next port. Fall into bed with an arrogant bastard like Mack? No thanks. When she stumbles upon a couple of Irish gypsies leaving a murder scene, she must go into hiding or become their next victim.

His protective instincts kicking into high gear, Mack whisks Deirdre away to a small town where it’s easier to keep her safe. Except there’s no escape from their growing attraction—or from the one thing neither of them thought they wanted. Love.

Warning: Battle-hardened, ready-to-cut-loose Marine teams up with a stunning Irish lass who thinks she can handle him. You’ll need the luck of the Irish to hang onto your seat for this sexy, suspenseful race across the Emerald Isle.

Excerpt

Lead in: Mack and Deirdre at his brother's combined bachelor/bachelorette party.

“You throw a good party,” he said, his words rumbling in his chest. “My brothers have never been to Ireland so this is a treat.”

Deirdre tipped her chin up. “Surely your military travels have taken you to foreign countries?”

“Yes, but not where we were truly welcome. It’s nice for a change not to have to look where you step or watch behind you for your enemy.”

“I can’t imagine what it is like to be in a war zone.”

“Exhilarating and scary at the same time.” He touched a finger beneath her chin. “I’m glad you ladies came out. I was considering going back to my room.”

“And miss all this?” She smiled up at him. “It would be a shame to disappoint your brother on the eve of his weddin’.”

“He doesn't see anyone else but his bride-to-be.”

Deirdre’s glance shifted to Wyatt and Fiona, standing in the middle of the floor, barely moving to the beat of the music. “They make a lovely couple.”

“They’ve only known each other for three months. Is that long enough to know whether you’re really in love?”

“Some say you know in an instant. Others say their love grew over time.” Deirdre envied Wyatt and Fiona. She had always wondered what it would be like to be in love with a man. Her gaze rose to meet Mack’s. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Mack stared down at her for a long moment.

The fire in his eyes made her blood rush through her veins and her core tighten.

“I don’t know about love at first sight. You captured my attention from the moment you first stepped through the door of the terminal.”

“I did?”

“Yes. But then I pegged you as an ice queen, dressed in white, hiding behind a scarf and sunglasses, your body ramrod straight.”

Deirdre stiffened.

Mack laughed. “Just like that.” When she tried to step out of his arms, he tightened them around her. “Then I kissed you and I realized how deceiving looks can be. Beneath the outer shell was a fiery, passionate women.” His words ended in a whisper, his head lowering, his mouth sweeping down to claim hers.

As though caught in a time warp, Deirdre couldn’t move. Nor did she want to. Since he’d kissed her in the airport, she’d thought of little else. She lifted her face to his and met him, her mouth opening to accept his tongue, her own coming out to sweep across his. It was as if the world stopped turning and time stood still. Even the music ceased to beat against her ears.

Copyright © 2014 Myla Jackson

All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. Publication

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Ugly Stick Saloon:
Boots & Twisters
Samhain Publishing
Available now!

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Welcome back to the Ugly Stick Saloon!

Blurb:

Two ranchers are about to get Lucky—in more ways than one. 

Lucky Albright’s unlucky streak is so long and wide that she’s been run out of one town and it looks like it may happen again.

When she finds herself out of money and out of gas in Temptation, Texas, a part-time job from the kind owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon gives her a glimmer of hope that this time things will be different.

Trent Jameson and Isaac Moore have always believed you make your own luck, but a black cloud of disaster seems to hover over their new hand. Under a tumbling stack of hay, Isaac discovers what Lucky’s hiding beneath baggy clothes and a tough exterior. Enough sexy curves to satisfy both men’s appetites.

But it isn’t long before Lucky’s history starts wreaking havoc all over town. It’ll take a force of nature to help the ranchers convince the law, the Garden Club—even Lucky herself—that now is no time to hit the road.

Warning: Hot cowboys meet hot cowgirl, and there’s a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on in Temptation. Get your twist-and-shout on at the Ugly Stick Saloon!
 
Night Owl Review a TOP PICK!:

"Humor is everywhere in this erotic romance as it seems no matter what Lucky does something unexpected happens. But, this story is so much more than just a humorous romance. Lucky isn’t your typical female lead...I think this is one of the best stories in this series and that is saying a lot!"

Excerpt:
 

Copyright © 2014 Myla Jackson
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Trent went to work stacking the hay on another wall, one bale at a time. Halfway through the stack, his muscles burned and he’d worked up a good sweat. He was feeling better and had almost forgotten the woman at the saloon.

With several tall columns of bales leaning against one wall, Trent was about to start a stack in front of them when a noise made him turn around.

A slim figure in jeans and a chambray shirt entered Thunder’s horse stall.

Thunder hadn’t been ridden since Dusty the ranch foreman had been tossed and ended up in the hospital.

Trent started to say something to the new ranch hand about the horse and his temperament. Before he could, the hand emerged, leading a placid Thunder out by his lead rope. If the horse had an attitude, it wasn’t on display that morning.

The cowboy had his head dipped, his cowboy hat pulled low. Between the dim lighting in the barn and the shadows from the rim of his hat, Trent couldn’t see the cowboy’s face. Covered in sweat and hay, Trent didn’t feel much like introducing himself yet. But he watched as the young man led the horse out of the barn. A few minutes later, he returned and entered the stall with the wheelbarrow, and soon had a pile of soiled straw loaded into it.

Trent resumed his work on the hay, keeping a watch on the new guy from the corner of his eye.
One stall after the other the young cowboy worked. When he completed the last stall and was pushing the last wheelbarrow load of soiled straw toward the door, Trent decided it was time to inspect the job and introduce himself.

“Wait up, there.” Trent tossed the bale he’d been carrying, dusted the straw off his gloves and crossed to the ranch hand. He glanced past the man’s shoulder into the cleaned stall and noted it was cleaner than he or Isaac usually got it. “Name’s Trent Jameson.” He held out his hand. “Nice work you’ve been doin’ there.”

For a moment the cowboy froze. Then gripped Trent’s hand with his own gloved one. “Thanks.” The cowboy refused to look up, keeping his chin tucked in, his head lowered.
Trent couldn’t look the man in the eye. He didn’t trust a man who wouldn’t look him directly in the eye. “You got a name?”

“Lucky.”

“Lucky.” Trent digested that. “Nickname?”

The ranch hand shook his head and tipped his hat lower over his head. “I better go dump this.” As he hurried around Trent, the wheel ran over Trent’s toe.

“Ow!” Trent yanked his foot back and teetered on one leg.

“Oh my gosh!” The cowboy’s hands flew in the air and the wheelbarrow dumped over, the contents rushing out, knocking Trent backward. He slammed into the freshly stacked hay bales and they swayed.

Trent glanced up, his breath hitching.

Crap.

“Oh no.” The young cowboy launched himself at the hay, tripped over the pile of dung and straw and, instead of catching the bales before they toppled, sprawled out on top of Trent.

The bales tipped and fell, one after the other, landing on or near them.

Several grunts sounded from the cowboy who took the bulk of the pummeling.

His hat flew off and long sandy-blonde hair tangled with the loose hay flying around the interior of the barn.

Trent blinked the hay and dust out of his eyes and stared up into pretty gray eyes, the color of storm clouds. “You!”

The woman he’d been dreaming about kissing planted her hands against his chest and tried to push herself off him.

“Yes, me.”

He opened his mouth to admit he thought he’d never see her again. Thinking better of it, he demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Working.” Jerking her leg out from under a heavy bale, she managed to roll off him and onto the ground. “What does it look like?” As agile as a cat, she shot to her feet.

“I can see that. But why?”

“Isaac hired me as the new ranch hand.”

“What?” Trent stood and stared at her.

“Is it so hard to believe a woman can be as effective and efficient at ranch work as a man?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, you didn’t have to.” She stood, brushing the hay from her jeans but missing the straws stuck in her hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get to work cleaning this up.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with Isaac’s decision to hire you.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “You gonna fire me?”

He glared at her. “I don’t know.”

“Well, until you say otherwise, I have work to do.”

Trent climbed over the bales to stand in front of her. “Like I said last night. You’re trouble.”

Something clouded her already stormy eyes. “Maybe, but I work hard and I know my way around a ranch.”

She grabbed a bale and threw it up onto the stack.

“I gathered that.” And she was beautiful with fire in her eyes and hay in her hair. Trent worked alongside her until they had all the hay stacked in neat rows. When they were done, he brushed straw off his body and grinned. She’d worked hefting as many bales as he had. So, she could lift bales.

Lucky flicked hay off her shoulders. “If we’re done here, there’s a fence on the northeast corner of the property I intend to fix.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it’s a two-man—person—job.”

“I’ve strung fence with and without help. I can handle it.”

“Maybe so, but we use the buddy rule around here. Unless you’re working around the house or barn, you always take a buddy with you. That way if one or the other is hurt, you have someone there to help.”

She looked at him through slitted eyes. “You’re making that up.”

He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Her eyes narrowed even more. “When were you ever a Scout?”

His lips twisted. “Okay, so I’ve never been a Scout. But we do use the buddy system. I’ll go with you.”

Her full, soft lips tightened. “How do you usually get there?”

“I take the four-wheeler. You can ride on the back.”

“Is that how you and your partner…er, brother ride out?”

“We usually take a couple of four-wheelers, but one of them is in the shop for repair.”

She hesitated then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Trent gathered the come-along, a roll of barbed wire, pliers, a hammer and a couple of metal fence posts and the heavy pounder used to drive them in.

Lucky took half of the supplies and carried them out into the open, then went back for the other half while Trent pulled the four-wheeler out of one of the storage areas in the barn.

Loading what she could in the box on the back, she settled the fence posts over the box and Trent strapped them down along with the pole pounder.

“I’ll get my hat and be ready to go.” Lucky disappeared into the barn.

Isaac joined Trent, carrying two water bottles. He settled them in the box with the tools. “I take it you’ve met our new ranch hand.”

Trent gave Isaac a withering look. “Yeah. You could have warned me.”

“She has the experience and know-how. And from the looks of it, the stamina.” Isaac’s lips twitched.

“Don’t go there.”

 Samhain Publishing
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3/29 - Dirty Girl Romance http://dirtygirlromance.blogspot.com

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3/31 - For the Love of Bookends               http://loveofbookends.blogspot.com/

4/02 - Books And Their Seven Deadly Sins http://booksandtheirsevendeadlysins.blogspot.co.uk/

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4/06 - The Snarkology    http://melissasnark.blogspot.com

4/06 - Toot's Book Reviews http://tootsbookreviews.blogspot.com

The Art Lover by Maggie Wells

Please welcome my good friend Maggie Wells!

This week she's got a treat for you. 

THE ART LOVER is free!! 

Hurry out and get your copy while the deal lasts!

 

Blurb

Starving artist Kelsey Tecato takes being The Templeton Museum's artist in residence a little too literally. By day, she puts on a show of painting for the crowds that shuffle through the galleries, but at night, her muse runs wild.

Mitch Jameson is a guy's guy. A cop moonlighting as a security guard, he has little use for the artsy-fartsy stuff, but the mysterious Ms. Tecato's sexy portraits call to him.

So does an interior alarm.

When Officer Jameson goes to investigate, he finds a paint-splattered goddess working on a self-portrait--in the nude.

A couple tubes of paint and a roll in the drop cloths later, free-spirited Kelsey helps Officer Jameson discover his passion for art.

Buy Link

Amazon:

Retail Price: $0.99                        Promotional Price: FREE

 March 3-7, 2014

Excerpt

His gaze traveled over the discreet placard affixed to the wall, but he’d already memorized the pertinent facts. The paintings were created by someone named Kelsey Tecato, the museum’s ‘Artist in Residence’.

Coming on shift as the museum closed for the day, he’d searched the faces of museum patrons and employees as they straggled past the security station, but he’d yet to spot the one that matched the headshot of a studious-looking brunette featured in the museum brochure. When he oh-so-casually posed the question to Bert, he learned that meant Ms. Tecato’s art was being subsidized in exchange for her participation in demonstrations and exhibitions sponsored by the museum board. The knowing twinkle in the older man’s eyes when he clarified that the ‘in residence’ part didn’t refer to the artist’s living situation was enough to make him drop the subject. Bert was too damn nosy for a guy who never managed to pass the detective’s exam.

Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, he left the provocative portraits behind and turned toward the west end of the building. The Templeton rambled for nearly a city block but most of the space went unused. Exhibits occupied the open center space of the two-story building joined by a pair of sweeping marble staircases. The east side had been converted to classroom space decades before, but the warren of tiny rooms on the west end were primarily administrative offices and storage.

His heart started to pound when he picked up the murmur of a deep voice. Shifting the flashlight to his left hand, Mitch reached for his sidearm and came up empty. He was a guard tonight, not a cop. His service weapon was locked up safe in his apartment. At the end of the corridor he pulled up short, pressing his back against the wall and tightening his grip on the flashlight. He wore a panic button clipped to his belt but his instincts told him he wasn’t at the panic stage yet. Breathing soft and slow, he closed his eyes and focused his energy on catching a few words. Perhaps he could figure out what the intruders were after before making his presence known.

Thirty seconds passed. His eyes popped open then rolled heavenward as the droning voice segued into a bouncy pop song. The radio. Someone had left a radio playing in one of the offices. Shaking off the rush of adrenaline, Mitch pushed away from the wall and rounded the corner, only to come to a dead stop when he saw the fan of light spilling from the office at the very end of the hall.

Two things he knew for certain: the radio hadn’t been playing when he’d made his post-closing rounds, and that door on the end of the corridor hadn’t been open. He let the barrel of the flashlight slip through his fingers until he gripped the lamp. Wielding his only weapon like a club, he crept toward the door as silently as a guy who clocked in at six-four and two-ten could. Just outside the office, he caught a flash of movement inside the room and quickly pressed his back to the wall.

“About time you showed up.”

A woman. The intruder was a woman and she’d been expecting him. Irked by the presumptuous amusement in her tone, he stepped into the open doorway, prepared to let her have it, and almost swallowed his tongue.

Screw the flashing red lights. Alarm bells clamored in his head the moment recognition clicked. Kelsey Tecato. Artist in Residence. Painter of hard-on-inducing nudes. Live and in person, standing in the Templeton Museum after hours.

And naked as the day she was born.

Author Info

Multi-published author, Maggie Wells, is a deep-down dirty girl with a weakness for hot heroes and happy endings. By day she is buried in spreadsheets, but at night she pens tales of people tangling up the sheets. The product of a charming rogue and a shameless flirt, this mild-mannered married lady has a naughty streak a mile wide.

Fueled by supertankers of Diet Coke, Maggie juggles fictional romance and the real deal by keeping her slow-talking Southern gentleman constantly amused and their two children mildly embarrassed. They are the food purveyors to three dogs, a passel of fish, and one impertinent house rabbit she claims is the love of her life. Shh. Don’t tell her husband.

You can find her online at maggie-wells.com , on Twitter @maggiewells1, or on Facebook 

Author Links

Web: http://maggie-wells.com/

Personal Blog: http://maggie-wells.com/maggies-musings/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMaggieWells?ref=hl

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/MaggieWells1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1482834.Maggie_Wells