Saturday, March 30, 2013

#SampleSaturday Virtual Ebook Fair: MUCH ADO ABOUT MARSHALS




Sample Saturday

Smooching, Adventure, 
a Laugh and a Thrill!

Want to browse a bunch of books, read excerpts, win prizes, and get great deals?  

Check out the
Virtual Ebook Fair
on Facebook for a wide variety of books
in various genres and subgenres
-- just about everything!

This week, I posted an excerpt of
Much Ado About Marshals.

Here's the blurb:

Daisy wants to be a detective just like dime novel heroine Honey Beaulieu. But her parents insist she marry. What better solution than to marry the new marshal!

Cole, mistaken for the new marshal, faces a dilemma few bank robbers have to face--tell the truth and get hanged, or live a lie and end up married. Either way could cost him his freedom.

Read the excerpt
then click on Edgar Allen Penguin (on the upper right of the excerpt page) to see more great books!


Hearts of Owyhee 







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Romancing The West


Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Love Mysteries? Westerns? Try the Double Series by @MegMims


Love Mysteries? 
Westerns?
Try the Double Series

by Meg Mims

What inspired you to write your books?
I loved the 1969 film, True Grit. Loved the scenery, the story, the dialogue, the western flavor, and it planted a seed that eventually became Double Crossing – young girl whose father is murdered, and she decides to track down the killer. Except I made Lily a wealthy young woman, a bit naïve yet still courageous, and included the transcontinental railroad of 1869. I rolled the Texas Ranger LaBeof and Rooster Cogburn into one hero – Ace Diamond. I also made it a coming of age story, with a missing gold mine deed. And I decided I needed a second book to finish what I’d started… and I recalled seeing John Wayne’s reprise of his “fat old man” in Rooster Cogburn and how dynamite had played a role in the plot. That planted another seed.

What kind of research did you do?

For Double Crossing  I did extensive research about the transcontinental railroad using several sources – primarily Westward By Rail: The New Route to the East by William Fraser Rae, first published back in 1870, and also the Central Pacific Railroad Museum website, which has fabulous information and photographs. When I first considered a plot centered around dynamite for Double or Nothing, the tidbit from that website about a banquet held in September of 1869, held in Sacramento to honor the CPRR bigwigs, spurred me to search further. Lo and behold, I learned that an explosion of dynamite occurred in San Francisco late in November of 1869. Eureka! Those elements laid the foundation for a plot, but I needed a villain and some intrigue. That led me to read A Most Damnable Invention: Dynamite, Nitrates, and the Making of the Modern World by Stephen Bowen. It gave me a lot of great information about dynamite, but I still needed info about San Francisco – and the earthquake of 1906 destroyed a lot of historical photographs and documents. So I ran across another wonderful website, San Francisco Museum and Historical Society and then stumbled across another, FoundSF which had a single photo of a burro carrying dynamite at the Giant Powder factory in what is now Glen Canyon. I dug further – took a lot of time and fudging, though!

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Mostly a plotter, but I have pantsed out my two novellas. That was a real eye-opener, and instead of taking time to do an extensive outline and character sketches, I just wrote – with a sketchy outline in my head. I discovered it works. I still have to layer in a lot during 2nd and 3rd drafts, plus revisions are a killer. I could never write a full novel without a full, detailed outline!

What’s your favorite/least favorite part of writing?

The beginning set-up, getting the characters acting, talking, reacting, is the most fun. The least fun is when I know something is missing in the manuscript or doesn’t quite work – and it just kills me, until I figure out what that might be. Sometimes it takes days, weeks, months. Some manuscripts sit in a drawer, waiting for an answer!


What are you reading now?

I read an eclectic mix of mystery, zombie thrillers, historical, westerns, paranormal and contemp romance – pretty much whatever strikes my fancy.

About Meg

Clocks and time play a big part in any late bloomer's life. And time plays a vital part in every mystery.

Meg Mims is an award-winning author and artist. She writes blended genres – historical, western, adventure, romance, suspense and mystery. Double or Nothing, the sequel to her award-winning first novel, Double Crossing, completed the Double Series.

Meg also wrote two contemporary romance novellas, Santa Paws and The Key to Love. Her short story Seafire is included in the charity anthology Hazard Yet Forward to benefit a fellow writer battling breast cancer. She earned an M.A. from Seton Hill University’s Writing Popular Fiction program in 2010 and is a member of RWA, WWA, Women Writing the West, Western Fictioneers and Sisters in Crime. Born and raised in Michigan, Meg lives with her husband, a Make-My-Day white Malti-poo and a rescue Lhasa Apso, plus a drooling black cat. Her artistic work is in watercolor, acrylic and pen/ink media.

Follow Meg on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads, and check out her blog.

Meg's Books

Double Crossing – Book 1 in the Double Series

Awards: 2012 Spur Award for Best First Novel, WWA … Finalist in the Fiction: Western category of Best Books of 2012, USA Book News

A murder arranged as a suicide … a missing deed … and a bereft daughter whose sheltered world is shattered.

August, 1869: Lily Granville is stunned by her father’s murder. Only one other person knows about a valuable California gold mine deed — both are now missing. Lily heads west on the newly opened transcontinental railroad, determined to track the killer. She soon realizes she is no longer the hunter but the prey.

As things progress from bad to worse, Lily is uncertain who to trust—the China-bound missionary who wants to marry her, or the wandering Texan who offers to protect her … for a price. Will Lily survive the journey and unexpected betrayal?

Availability
Print: Amazon
Large print: Amazon, BN.com


Double or Nothing – Book 2 of the Double Series

A mysterious explosion. A man framed for murder. A strong woman determined to prove his innocence.

October, 1869: Lily Granville, now heiress to a considerable fortune, rebels against her uncle’s strict rules in Sacramento, California. Ace Diamond, determined to win Lily, invests in a dynamite factory for a quick “killing,” but his status as a successful businessman fails to impress her guardian. An explosion in San Francisco, mere hours before Lily elopes with Ace to avoid a forced marriage, sets off a chain of unforeseen consequences.

Despite Lily’s protests that her new husband has been framed, Ace is dragged off to jail as the culprit. Evidence mounts against him. Lily must learn who was actually behind the diabolical plan… and save Ace from the hangman’s noose. Will she become a widow before a true wife?

Availability 
You can’t help but root for Lily Granville, Meg Mims’s heroine from Double Crossing who is once again in over her head in Double or Nothing. Featuring murder, action, and a strong sense of time and place, this series will appeal to Western, romance and mystery fans, or those who just like a great read.
– Six-time Spur Award winner Johnny D. Boggs
Excerpt from

1869, California

I jumped at a screeching whistle. Men swarmed over the distant slope like bees over a wax honeycomb in a mad scramble. “Good heavens. What is that about?”

Uncle Harrison pulled me out of harm’s way. “They’re almost ready to begin the process of hydraulic mining,” he said and pulled his hat down to avoid the hot sun. “You’ll see. This is far better than panning for gold in a creek bed.”

“I can already see how destructive it is, given the run-off,” I said, eyeing the rivulets of dried mud that marked each treeless incline. “I’ve read about how the farmers can’t irrigate their fields and orchards due to the gravel and silt filling the rivers—”

Water suddenly gushed from two hydraulic nozzles in a wide, powerful stream. The men’s bulging arm muscles strained their shirts, their faces purple with the effort to control the water. I turned my gaze to the ravaged earth. Mud washed down into the wooden sluices, where other men worked at various points to spray quicksilver along the wide stretch. Others worked at a frantic pace to keep the earthy silt moving.

An older man with a grizzled goatee and worn overalls held out a canteen. “Have a sip while you’re waiting, miss,” he said. “A body gets mighty thirsty out here.”

“Thank you.”

I sipped the cold, refreshing ginger-flavored liquid that eased my parched throat. Dirt from the canteen streaked my gloves. Not that it mattered. At least the spatters of fresh mud wouldn’t show on my black mourning costume and riding boots. Two days of rain earlier in the week had not helped.

The kind man offered the canteen to Uncle Harrison, who brushed it aside with a curt shake of his head. Steaming, I bit back an apology. The man had already headed back to his position near the sluices.

Bored of watching the ongoing work, I wandered over to several horses that stood patient in the sun and patted their noses. A tooled leather saddle sat atop one gelding’s glossy brown hide, and the silver-studded bridle looked as rich. The horse gave a low whicker in greeting. If only I’d pocketed a few carrots or sugar lumps from breakfast.

“You’re a beauty. I wish I could ride you for a bit.”

The gelding’s ears dipped forward. One of the men left the knot of others in a huff. His dusty open coat swung around him as he stalked, spurs jingling, and closed the distance. He passed by me with a mere tip of his wide-brimmed hat and untied the reins. The horse pawed the ground, jittery, as if sensing the man’s foul mood while he mounted. I noted his scowl. Was he upset that I’d dared touch his property? A scruffy beard and thick black mustache hid his mouth. He rode off, keeping the gelding’s gait easy, down the gully toward the Early Bird’s entrance.

“Who was that?” I asked a miner.

The worker wiped sweat from his forehead with a sleeve. “Señor Alvarez? He’s got a burr under his blanket as usual. Pay him no mind, miss.”

I rubbed the remaining horse’s flank and glanced around the mining site. My uncle continued to chat with the foreman close to the shack near the head of the sluices. Another section of the wooden troughs was raised from the ground further north at a different bank of earth. My curiosity increased. I walked to the sluice and stared down at the filth in the bottom. No glints of gold flecked the bits of rock and slag. I had no idea what quicksilver looked like either. This whole business seemed crazy, although Uncle Harrison disagreed.

In the distance, pines smudged the lower half of the Sierra’s tiny white-capped peaks. To the west, gray clouds threatened the pale blue sky. No doubt rain would soak everything again by morning. My uncle had mentioned how winter was wetter here than back home in Chicago, or even St. Louis. I hadn’t known what to expect for autumn in California. Now that it was close to October, the stands of golden aspen on a ridge high above sported various shades of green, gold and hues of orange.

Homesickness overwhelmed me. I longed to see the brilliant shades of orange, red and yellow oaks, the thick forest of elms and birches behind my father’s house in Evanston. To ride along the shoreline of Lake Michigan’s navy waters, and watch the snow falling fast on a chilly winter’s day. I wouldn’t even mind listening to Adele Mason’s endless chatter about the latest dinner parties she attended with her many beaus.

It seemed like an eternity since I’d crossed two thousand miles of prairie and mountains on the Union and Central Pacific railroad. Donner Lake had resembled a sapphire jewel nestled among pristine snow fields. Perhaps it was frozen already.

I shivered, remembering the darkness of Summit Tunnel. It also brought back the delicious memory of feeling safe, nestled in Ace’s strong arms. Feeling the sudden shock when his tongue sought my own…

“Miss? It’s dangerous standin’ that close to the sluice. Over yonder is best.”

Guilt flooded my heart. Nodding to the man, I twisted around and glanced in the direction he indicated. My uncle remained at the shack. “Will they ever stop talking business?”

“Doubt it.” The miner was the same one who’d offered me water earlier. He carried a roll of canvas slung over a shoulder. Shrugging, he swiped his muddy goatee and cheek against his burden’s nubby surface. “Reckon they’ll yammer on for a while more.”

“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”

“Sure thing, miss.”

He passed by and handed the canvas to a pair of men. They unrolled it and laid the fabric inside the wooden sluice. I walked across the shifting ground, trying to avoid the worst of the mud’s damp patches. One claimed my uncle’s shoe when we arrived that morning. I fought hard not to laugh aloud, watching Uncle Harrison hop about on one foot, so comical with his blustery red face. At last a worker retrieved his shoe, mud up to his elbow, half his face coated as well. My uncle had not thanked the man for the rescue, either.

On higher ground, two workers held long snaking hoses that spurted water at the high bank. Two others sprayed quicksilver over the sluice. It didn’t look like anything but dirty water. I sighed. This entire trip had been a waste of time. Uncle Harrison resented the questions I’d peppered the foreman with and ignored my opinions on how the operation damaged the countryside. Why had he suggested I tag along in the first place?

I should have stayed back in Sacramento. My sketchbook drawings needed work. I had yet to finish anything I’d glimpsed during the journey on the train. Etta had brought all my watercolor supplies from Evanston, and most of my books too.

But I didn’t want to read or paint. A deep melancholy robbed me of energy. Nightmares haunted my sleep, of the deep ravine and the lizard I’d caught, of the sandy slope I climbed on Mt. Diablo, desperate to escape my father’s killer. Of being trapped, with no way out, and facing death, and of seeing that shocked surprise… and hearing the gunshot.

Self-defense, as Ace claimed. My uncle and the sheriff agreed.

Poor Ace. He’d felt bad afterward, forced into a cowardly deed. I had never shot anything except a badger with Father’s Navy revolver. Missed, too. But I’d tried to protect my darling pet lizard’s clutch of eggs in the garden back home. The thought of shooting a human being turned my stomach. I suppose stabbing someone wasn’t any less of a sin. Heavy guilt weighed on me. Had it been self-defense? I shuddered at the memory.

As Mother used to say, it was water under the bridge. Nothing I might say or do now would change the past. But I’d rather avoid making such a horrible choice again.

Instead I trudged toward the shack. The foreman held a large piece of blueprint paper between his hands while my uncle pointed at various sections. Two other men argued with them, their heated words carrying over the whooshing of hoses and creaks and jolts of skeleton wagons over the rutted ground. Most of their argument was peppered with technical jargon that didn’t make any sense. Even Chinese sounded more familiar.

“We haven’t made enough headway,” said a man in a tailored suit, whose gold watch chain glinted in the sun. “I say we dig out the ridge all the way.”

“You take that ridge down any more than we have and we’ll never get equipment to the furthest point of the claim, over here,” my uncle said and prodded the map. “That was Alvarez’s advice. He knows this land better than you, Williamson.”

“I agree, it’s too dangerous,” the foreman said.

“I’m the engineer! Are you implying I don’t know my business?”

“I’m saying it’s stupid to undermine that ridge. You’re being a stubborn coot.”

“You’re a fine one to call me stubborn—”

Good heavens. I reversed direction and headed back toward the sluice. They were sure to argue for another few hours. I wanted to ride that horse, even if it meant hiking my skirts to my knees and baring my ankles. The poor animal looked like it a good run, or at least a trot over the rough ground. I had to do something productive or I’d go mad.

Steering around the same boggy patch of mud, I cut close to the sluice. A blood-curdling yell halted everyone. I whirled to see the entire bank of earth, a huge avalanche of mud, rocks and two large trees root-first, rushing straight for me.

Monday, March 18, 2013

#NewRelease James J. Griffin: Ranger's Revenge (Western Fictioneers) #western

Ranger's Revenge
by James J. Griffin

James J. Griffin brings back Texas Ranger Jim Blawcyzk in this book. Blawcyzk isn’t really working for the Texas Rangers this time, though. In fact, he winds up on the wrong side of the law with the Rangers after him for part of the book, because he takes off his badge and goes off on his own after the gang that attacked and possibly murdered his wife and son. As a result, Ranger's Revenge is a little grittier than Griffin’s earlier books, but it has the same fine action scenes, interesting settings, and welcome touches of humor.

Reviews:
Tough, gritty, poignant, and packed with action and emotion, Ranger's Revenge is James J. Griffin's best novel so far. The return of Texas Ranger Jim Blawcyzk is always welcome and he's in top form in this yarn that finds him tracking down the outlaws who attacked his family. Highly recommended for Western Fans and anyone who enjoys an exciting, well written story.
--James Reasoner, Author of the Wind River series, and numerous others.

Once again Jim Griffin has spun a tale of action and valor that will keep you riveted until the last word is read. Another true adventure of Ranger lore that gets better with each book.
--Texas Ranger Sergeant Jim Huggins of Company F

Jim Griffin knows his stuff when it comes to the Texas Rangers. Ranger's Revenge is the best Jim Blawcyzk tale yet.
--Lee Pierce, Author of Rough Justice

  Barnes & Noble Link

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

#NewRelease Judge on the Run by @KeithSouter #western

Judge on the Run
by Clay More
aka Keith Souter

Wesley Talbot is a respected frontier judge devoted to the law. So why does he adopt the identity of wanted desperado Diamond Jim Chance and go on the run? Why is the ruthless bounty hunter known as The Deacon on a bloodthirsty quest to track down the judge? What dangers lurk in a hidden canyon in the Pintos Mountains? Who is the real mastermind behind a gang of vicious killers? And what secret that leads to a gunpowder-laced showdown lies in the church of a small Mexican village?

The answers to these questions can be found in Judge on the Run, the action-packed novel that's the latest release from acclaimed author Clay More and the Western Fictioneers Library. Previously published as a Black Horse Western by Robert Hale, this newly revised edition is full of excitement and thrills.
Keith Souter aka Clay More

Review:
Judge on the Run is another fine action Western from Keith Souter writing as Clay More. Judge Wesley Talbot is a respected frontier jurist, but when a gang of outlaws raids the town where Wes is stopping over and kidnaps two women, he has to take desperate measures to deliver justice and rescue the prisoners. Complicating matters is the presence of a ruthless bounty hunter known as The Deacon who is on Wes's trail seeking revenge for his brother, who was hanged after being convicted of rape and robbery in Wes's court.

Souter really piles the troubles on his protagonist in this novel and keeps the pressure on with a series of gritty, well-paced action scenes, one of which is a brutal fight between two men in a pit that's very effective. He throws in some nice twists in the plot, including a final one that leads to a dramatic showdown in the church of a Mexican village and a satisfying conclusion.

I'm glad the Western Fictioneers Library has brought out a new edition of Judge on the Run, because I probably never would have had the chance to read it otherwise. And I'm looking forward to reading more from Keith Souter.
Author of Rivers of Gold

  Barnes & Noble Nook Link

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Frank Roderus: Leaving Kansas #western #newrelease



Leaving Kansas

Available again for the first time in nearly 30 years, Frank Roderus's classic novel Leaving Kansas is the compelling story of a young man who considers himself born in the wrong time and place. Living on a Kansas cattle ranch, Harrison Wilke believes that he was destined for better things, more civilized things than life on the frontier during the last fading days of the Old West. Harrison's efforts to make that dream a reality lead him into nothing but trouble as he encounters rustlers, schemers, and a group of hard-faced men with a lynch rope . . .



Leaving Kansas won the prestigious Spur Award from the Western Writers of America as the Best Western Novel of the Year. It's the first of the Harrison Wilke trilogy from acclaimed, best-selling author Frank Roderus, which continues in Reaching Colorado and Finding Nevada, both forthcoming from the Western Fictioneers Library, proud publishers of the very best in hard-hitting Western fiction.


Review:
Frank Roderus has been one of the highest regarded, most prolific Western authors for a long time, and I couldn't even begin to count the number of his books I've read over the years. Somehow, though, I missed his award-winning trilogy of novels about Harrison Wilke, so I'm glad that the Western Fictioneers Library is making them available again.

LEAVING KANSAS is the first novel in the series. It's the last days of the Old West, an era when the Indians and the outlaws have been tamed but old-timers still remember what it was like to have to take up the gun and the rope to bring justice to the plains. Harrison Wilke, in his early twenties, has few of those memories himself, and he's glad of that because he despises violence and longs to live in a more civilized, more genteel environment than the cattle ranch that belongs to his uncle. That's where Harrison seems to be stuck, though, so when he sees a way of possibly getting out and even being able to marry the girl of his dreams, he seizes it. In this noir-tinged tale, though, you just know that things aren't going to work out the way Harrison hopes they will.

It's easy to see why this book won the Spur Award for Best Western Novel. It's a compelling narrative, and even though Harrison Wilke is one of the least likable protagonists you're ever going to encounter, you can't help wanting to find out what's going to happen to him. Roderus skillfully tightens the strands of his plot until it seems like there's no way out for Harrison, which leads to a considerable amount of suspense as the book races toward its climax.

As I mentioned, this is the first book in a trilogy, and the Western Fictioneers Library will be bringing out the other two volumes in the near future. That's good, because I can't wait to read them.
--James Reasoner
Author of Wind River

  Barnes & Noble Link