Priscilla by Charlene Raddon

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Charlene will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

After losing her father and husband in a mine disaster, Priscilla Heartsel faces poverty and eviction from her home by a heartless mine owner. Tricked into a bank robbery gone wrong, Braxton Gamble finds himself shot and unconscious in Priscilla's bed. Can they survive long enough to find a love more precious than gold?

Read an Excerpt

She loosened her grip on the cookie and it landed in her lap. "You're planning to get married? Yet you were kissing me in front of everyone only moments ago?"

"Only because you're who I plan to marry." He grinned.

She retrieved her cookie, left it on the table and returned the plate to the pantry.

"Hey," he said, "I wasn't through with those."

"Too bad." Hands firmly planted on her hips, she glared at him. "I have no intention of remarrying, and if I did, what makes you think it would be to you?"

Braxton got to his feet. "I'm crazy about you, Pris, and I think you care for me too."

"Well, you're wrong. Get out."

Moving around the table toward her, he said, "Okay, Pris. Don't get your dander up."

Relieved that he was going to leave quietly, she relaxed, but as soon as she did, he reached out and hauled her into his arms. Before she could voice a complaint, he kissed her. Again. She tensed and tried to break free.

Oh, but it felt so good. While cursing herself for not fighting harder, she kissed him back. A tingling began below her abdomen and she felt flushed and hungry for something she couldn't name, except that she wanted more of what Braxton offered. Her hands slipped behind his head and she pressed closer, noticing he was ready for her.

"Lord, but I could go on kissing you forever," he murmured.

"Shut up and just do it," she whispered back.

She felt him smile against her lips, but not for long. He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened to him, then slipped it inside. He tasted like oatmeal and coffee. Sweet, heady, and strong.

He pressed his aroused body closer to her, and she couldn't help wriggling. Her heart pounded, her blood on fire.

The next thing she knew, he'd picked her up and was heading for the stairs. Priscilla knew what he planned and opened her mouth to object.

A knock came on the door. "Braxton, are you in there?" Etta hollered. "Irish and Logan have been sighted riding toward the Lucky Lady. You coming with me?"

"Aw, hell," he muttered, letting Priscilla's feet touch the floor. "I gotta go. I'm sorry, Pris, darlin'."

"It doesn't matter. What we were doing was insane anyway."

He glowered at her. "You still going to claim you don't want me?"

"I don't want to marry."

"That's fine with me. We'll just live together."

"Ha! Get out of here."

"I'm going." He stalked to the door and slammed it behind him.

About the Author: Charlene Raddon’s first serious attempt at writing fiction came in 1980 when a vivid dream drove her to drag out a typewriter and begin writing. Because of her love of romance novels and the Wild West, her primary genre is historical romance. Kensington Books originally published five of her novels. These were later released as eBooks by Tirgearr Publishing. Currently, Charlene is an Indie author with . She also designs book covers, specializing in western historical.

Website: https://charleneraddon.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/charleneb.b.raddon
Twitter: http://twitter.com/craddon
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Charlene-Raddon/e/B000APG1P8/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1232154.Charlene_Raddon

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07G9N8PC7/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

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Taming Jenna by Charlene Raddon - Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Charlene will be awarding an e-copy of one of her books from her backlist at each stop to a randomly drawn commenter, and a Grand Prize of a $30 gift card will be awarded to a randomly drawn commenter at the end of the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

THE WRONG MAN

Deserted by her father at the tender age of seven, Jenna Leigh-Whittington had taught herself to ride, shoot, brawl…and steer clear of the opposite sex. But now, in a lonely Utah canyon, the Pinkerton agent has drawn her gun on a rugged stranger—only to discover that, far from the dangerous outlaw she’d been tracking, he is Branch McCauley, hired gun…and the most irresistible rascal ever to tempt and torment a woman!

THE RIGHT WOMAN

If there’s one thing McCauley trusts less than a female, it’s a female who packs a six-gun. But what a woman! Vowing to bring the sensuous hellcat to heel, McCauley has no inkling that their passionate battle of wills has just begun. Taming Jenna will be the most seductive—and satisfying—job he’s ever taken on.

Enjoy this excerpt:

Something touched her face, something as light as a mist or a lover's kiss. She put her hands to her cheeks and felt the moisture. Mist. Her fingers found grit the fine spray couldn't wash off. She took a step, then another. Water pounded her feet, her calves. She reached out, only to have her hands smacked away by the force of the waterfall. She longed to stand under it, to strip off her torn, dirty clothes and wash away the grime and the soreness and the fear of trying to find her way through that pitch black mine tunnel.

How she longed to see the falls. She lifted her face toward the source and perceived moving shades of grayness among the black. There had to be a hole up there, yet she could not see it. Had night fallen outside?

Somehow the movement of the falls, the fresh scent, the liquid gurgle, made her feel less alone. She had a strong feeling some other live being occupied the dark, musty catacombs besides herself. Something besides rats and nasty dwarfs.

Her spirits climbed. No question now as to where she was—the old Murphey mine. She would follow the water's flow, and she would get out.

Above the muted roar of the small waterfall came another sound, sharp and loud like the crack of thunder on a stormy night, followed by rolling reverberations. Angry. Ominous. Her mouth quirked at the thought: Rainstorms deep inside the bowels of the earth. Obviously, her grip on sanity was still tenuous.

She did an about-face and splashed her way down the drift. The voice of the falls followed, like a jealous lover. She attempted to laugh. At herself. At her fears. Hysteria tainted the sound.

Water swirled about her ankles and rose higher. She kept walking. Her heart caught the urgency of the torrent and thudded tumultuously inside her breast. She trembled in the wet chill of the clammy garments plastered to her body. Her hair had come loose and tumbled about her shoulders in a wild array. She pushed a wet strand out of her eyes and thought of Maura's Irish stew. Her stomach growled.

As the stream swirled and raged about her knees, threatening to suck her into its depths, terror seized her. Two men had drowned in this mine, she remembered. Rembrandt had told her. A storm had caused a flashflood, and the men had been caught in it.

Rainstorms underground no longer seemed laughable.

She bolted blindly forward, groping at the walls with her hands to keep from falling, letting the current of the water guide her. Perspiration dripped into her eyes, in spite of the freezing temperature.

She lived now in a world without sight, without color, a world where perception came only through the senses, magnified by terror and desperation: The coarse, granular hardness of granite walls; spongy moss on splintered wood. Wetness. The smell of water, sweat, and fear. The ragged gasp of her own breath. And the roar—always the deafening roar—of the raging torrent that seemed bent on expelling her from this underground sepulcher of hell.

As the water rose to her hips, she had to move slower and more carefully. She took the Starr from its holster and tucked it inside her waistband to keep it dry. Her feet stumbled. She caught herself, stumbled again. The roar had become so much a part of her that she barely noticed the difference when the volume suddenly increased.

Her awareness of impending doom was strictly intuitive. She could see no danger approaching. But her imagination was excellent. Rising water and an indefinable change in the sound created visions in her mind that closed off her throat and sent her heart tumbling like boulders down an unstable incline.

A new sound came to her ears—her own choked whimper.

Tension mounted, keeping pace with the water's depth and the thunderous din. A scream ripped upward from her diaphragm to lodge in her throat as she plowed clumsily forward, waiting with increasing dread for a disaster she could not see, only sense.

A sudden deluge poured over her, whipping her hair into her face, stealing her breath, snatching her feet out from under her. Her arms flailed as she sought to regain her balance. She went down. Water rushed over her and into her open mouth, her hands scraped against the floor, and silence replaced the angry thunder in her ears.



About the Author Charlene Raddon began her fiction career in the third grade when she announced in Show & Tell that a baby sister she never had was killed by a black widow spider. She often penned stories featuring mistreated young girls whose mother accused of crimes her sister had actually committed. Her first serious attempt at writing fiction came in 1980 when she woke up from a vivid dream that compelled her to drag out a portable typewriter and begin writing. She’s been at it ever since. An early love for romance novels and the Wild West led her to choose the historical romance genre but she also writes contemporary romance. At present, she has five books published in paperback by Kensington Books (one under the pseudonym Rachel Summers), and four eBooks published by Tirgearr Publishing.

Charlene’s awards include: RWA Golden Heart Finalist, Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award Nomination, Affair de Coeur Magazine Reader/Writer Poll for Best Historical of the Year. Her books have won or place in several contests.

Currently, Charlene is working on her next release.

@CRaddon ~ Blog ~ Facebook ~ Website ~ Goodreads

To Have and To Hold by Charlene Raddon - Virtual Tour and Giveaway

Today we're spotlighting author Charlene Raddon on her tour with Goddess Fish Promotions for the historical romance, "To Have and To Hold". She's sharing an exclusive excerpt with us.

Charlene will give away a free copy of one of her other books at each stop and a $15 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. So comment today AND follow her tour (if you click on the banner at the top, it'll take you to a list of her tour stops)! The more you read and comment, the better your odds of winning. You could be introduced to a great new author AND win a prize!

A woman without a prayer…

A widow with two children, Tempest Whitney had to mortgage everything to repay the money her husband had stolen. But even as she struggles to hold onto her Utah homestead, a scheming rancher buys up her debts, demanding she either get off his land or marry him. Then a dark-haired stranger shows up, claiming to be her dead husband…

A man without a past….

Buck Maddux spent two years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Now a death bed promise has brought him to Tempest’s dugout. A man without roots, he doesn’t plan to stay—or to feel so fiercely protective of this feisty beauty he saves from a forced marriage. Suddenly, Buck yearns for a home, a family, a lasting love. But what can he offer Tempest? The surprising answer lies in the forbidden canyons of an ancient Anasazi tribe, where fortune and danger await—along with a passion more precious than gold…

Utah – 1888

Tempest Whitney stilled as the dogs barked and raced off toward the road. The freshly washed diaper she'd been about to hang on taut cord strung between cottonwood trees slid from her fingers to the dirt. The clip-clop of horse hooves sounded on the road beyond the curve. Someone was coming. Her heart drummed fiercely at the thought of company—in hope as well as in trepidation. Life was lonely at Hearts-ease.

Overhead, branches thrashed in a gush of wind, announcing a change of seasons with a shower of golden leaves, and exchanging the smell of lye soap for that of sagebrush. In the house twenty-two month old Ethan wailed, as if he sensed his mother's unease. Angel's childish voice mingled with his cries as the four-year-old tried to soothe her brother.

Shading her eyes with her hand, Tempest peered into the distance, torn between the need to go to her children and the need to see who was coming. Shadows from the canyon walls hid the rider’s features when he rounded the curve in the road. Not her father; the dogs never barked at Ronan Carmichael. Besides, now that he worked at Jonas Creedy’s saloon in Harper, Ronan rarely came home anyway, except to beg for money.

Thoughts of Jonas increased her apprehension. The obnoxious man wanted her and didn't care a fig if she were willing or not. So far she’d managed to evade his grasp, but she feared her luck would run out.

Charlene first serious writing attempt came in 1980 when she awoke one morning from an unusually vivid and compelling dream. Deciding that dream needed to be made into a book, she dug out an old portable typewriter and went to work. That book never sold, but her second one, Tender Touch, became a Golden Heart finalist and earned her an agent. Soon after, she signed a three book contract with Kensington Books. Five of Charlene's western historical romances were published between 1994 and 1999: Taming Jenna, Tender Touch (1994 Golden Heart Finalist under the title Brianna), Forever Mine (1996 Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer's Choice Award Nominee and Affaire de Coeur Reader/Writer Poll finalist), To Have and To Hold Affaire de Coeur Reader/Writer Poll finalist); and writing as Rachel Summers, The Scent of Roses. Forever Mine and Tender Touch are available as e-books and after January 24, To Have and To Hold will be as well. When not writing, Charlene loves to travel, crochet, needlepoint, research genealogy, scrapbook, and dye Ukrainian eggs.

Links:

http://www.charleneraddon.com/
http://www.charleneraddon.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/CharleneRaddon?ref=hl

To have and to Hold: