Weekend Excerpt–JENNY’S VOICE

It’s out! JENNY’S VOICE, the first book in my new Redheads & Ranchers Series, came out Tuesday.

Jenny Stone has been silent for the last two years, rendered mute by unimaginable trauma since the day her parents were brutally murdered and she was taken by ruthless crime boss Victor Sorkin. She’s been his ‘pet’ since that horrific day, his own personal good luck charm.

When she sees her chance to escape, she takes it, stowing away in the horse trailer of unsuspecting cowboy Cole Caldwell. When he finds her there, he’s torn between finding help for the terrified young woman and reassuring her that she’s safe with him.

Privately, Jenny and Cole feel the inexorable pull of attraction. But Cole knows Jenny’s been brutalized and he’ll be damned if he’ll take advantage of her in any way. And Jenny’s positive that the handsome rancher wouldn’t want anything to do with someone as damaged and used as she is.

But love is a funny thing, often finding a way in the most impossible of situations.

To celebrate the first weekend of its release, here’s a steamy little teaser from JENNY’S VOICE.


Late that evening, Cole sat in the leather chair in the corner of his bedroom, an open book resting on his lap.  But he realized that he hadn’t read a line in the last fifteen minutes. His thoughts were on the day, on the possibility of new clients, on the delicious pot roast dinner…and on Jenny.

He was falling in love with her, he knew it.  And he felt the same from her. Theirs was such an odd situation, though.  She was, for all intents and purposes, on the run. And no one except Cole knew who and where she was.

At some point, she’d have to agree to go to the authorities.  Undoubtedly, there was an open investigation into her whereabouts.  Not to mention the fact that she had insight into a serious criminal enterprise.

Cole sighed deeply as he scrubbed a restless palm across his mouth.  He didn’t know what to do. So far, he’d done nothing. And inaction was action, wasn’t it?

A creak of a floorboard drew his attention to the hallway.  Jenny stood uncertainly in his doorway. Her fingers were interlaced in front of her and she appeared to be wearing one of his long-sleeve dress shirts, the sleeves rolled about halfway up her arms.

He smiled softly.  “Hi, Jenny. Everything okay?”

She nodded, staying where she was.  “Yes. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me.  I’m not getting much reading done anyway.  What do you need?”

Wordlessly, she padded on bare feet to where he sat.  To say that he was surprised would be an understatement when she took his book and placed it on the bedside table, then slid onto his lap.  He was almost positive that beneath his shirt, she wore nothing at all.

Consciously keeping his hands on the arms of the chair, he drew a shaky breath and met her eyes.  “What’s going on, Jenny?” he asked softly.

She reached up with her left hand to cup his jaw and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.  He welcomed her kiss, matching her passion while struggling to hold back the desire that flared at her touch, her proximity.

“It’s okay,” she breathed as she broke the kiss.  “You can touch me.”

Heart pounding in rhythm with the pulse in his burgeoning erection, Cole leaned back and gazed at her with hooded eyes.  “Are you sure?”

She nodded, green eyes alight with desire.

He let out a long breath.  “If we’re gonna do this, darlin’, you’re gonna set the pace.  The last thing I want to do is to hurt or take advantage of you.”

She gave him a tender smile.  “You’d never hurt me. I know that.”  Leaning slightly forward, she took his hands from the chair arms and placed them on her bare ass.

Caressing her smooth flesh beneath his fingers, he pulled her closer, positioning her heated sex against the bulge in his jeans.  She tucked her hair behind her ears and stared down at him, her green eyes sparkling.

Her fingers fluttered to the buttons of the dress shirt she’d appropriated and slowly, she unfastened them, revealing the hollow between the inner curves of perfectly shaped breasts, a smooth stomach, and a thatch of tight red curls where she rested against his hardness.

He shook his head slightly and swallowed hard.  “Jesus, Jenny,” he breathed.

True to his word, he waited, allowing her to initiate another deep, languid kiss as she ground against him.  She allowed the shirt to slip from her shoulders, and she moved his hands around to cup her firm, round breasts.  

He lightly brushed his thumbs across her tight pink points and she gasped.

“Is that alright?” he murmured quickly.

She nodded.  “Yes. Please, oh yes.”

He peered into her eyes, gauging her response.

“Cole?”

“Yes?”

“Will you please take me to bed?”

He hesitated.  “Are you sure?”

She nodded, and he felt reassured.  He held her tightly against him and stood, walking them the two steps to the bed where he gently lay her down.  Jenny watched with heated interest as he shucked his grey t-shirt and jeans, leaving them where they fell.

Naked, he climbed into bed beside her, resting on his side and gazing at her tenderly.  “You’re in charge, darlin’. What you say goes.”

A lone tear rolled down her cheek and he caught it with his finger.  “I want you to make love to me,” she whispered.

He smiled softly.  “Yeah?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.”

Cole leaned in and captured her lips with his, pouring his passion through his kiss.  She placed his hand on her hip and he took things from there, sliding his hand up to cup her breast once again, this time taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugging gently, encouraging it to stand taut.  Jenny moaned lightly.

Leaving her lips, he trailed kisses down the side of her neck.  He slid his hand back down to her hip, and Jenny pivoted slightly, moving his hand to the needy space between her thighs.

Cautiously, he met her eyes.  “Is this okay?”

“Yes, please,” she hissed.

Smiling, he cupped her sex, feeling the heat there.  He increased the pressure, and Jenny moaned again as she pressed against his hand.  Finding purchase with his fingertips, he began a slow circular path around her sensitive bud.

 She arched against him, tightly fisting the sheets on either side of her body.

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

Pleased, Cole increased the pace of his circles, watching as Jenny’s face contorted with pleasure, delighting in the moment when she shattered against his hand.

Her body was still shuddering as he propped up on one elbow and drew his fingers lightly up her belly and between her breasts.

Breathless, she opened her eyes.  He grinned down at her lovingly. “How was that?”

She nodded, panting.  “It was…great, but…”

He frowned slightly, waiting to hear what she would say.

“I need you, Cole.  Please.”

His heart hitched.  “You’re sure?”

He saw the desire in her eyes.  “Please,” she whispered.

Nodding, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table and removed a foil packet.  Hesitating a moment, he checked the date printed on the back, sighing with relief. It was still good for another three months.

A glance back at Jenny showed him she was watching him carefully.  “I’ve had these a while,” he laughed. “Just checking to make sure they’re still good.”

She reached for him.  “Hurry.”

He slid between her legs and held himself over her.  “With pleasure.” With that, he plunged his lips to hers, devouring her this time, delighting in the fact that she matched his fervor.  Pausing, he used his teeth to rip open the foil packet then roll the condom over his ready cock.

Watching her face, he parked himself at her entrance.  “Ready?”

She nodded, sliding her hands up his sides to rest them on his back, and he gently pressed forward, just breaching her entrance.  He felt her contract around him, and he ventured further.

“Oh, yes,” she hissed in his ear.

He continued forward until he was buried to the root.  There, he stayed still, feeling her acclimate to his length and girth.  His skin prickled in goosebumps as she lightly nipped up the side of his neck to his earlobe, which she sucked sensuously.

Unable to resist, he rocked his hips back and plunged in again, this time earning a gasp from Jenny.  Emboldened, he pumped in earnest, feeling her walls tighten even as her breathing came in sharp bursts.

“I’m almost there, Jenny,” he murmured into her ear.  “This is what you do to me. Come on, darlin’, come with me.”

Just as he felt his release nearing the point of no return, she cried out, shuddering in pleasure.  It was all he needed to tip him over the edge of his own climax as with one more thrust, he held himself deep within her, pouring out his essence.

Still trembling, he lowered himself beside Jenny, carefully disengaging from her.  He padded to the bathroom to take care of the condom, then returned to the bed, gently gathering her to himself.  Her eyes were closed, and she was still breathing hard. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

JENNY’S VOICE by Pandora Spocks

One-click JENNY’S VOICE today!
books2read.com/JennysVoice

Weekend Excerpt–JENNY’S VOICE, Out February 12, 2019!

JENNY’S VOICE, Redheads & Ranchers Book 1,
comes out February 12!

Jenny Stone survived the brutal murder of her parents only to be taken by the ruthless crime boss responsible for their deaths. Nearly two years later, when she sees her chance to escape, she takes it, slipping into the horse trailer of an unsuspecting cowboy.

Cole Caldwell leads a quiet life as an in-demand horse trainer, able to charge high fees from his wealthy clients to support his non-profit activities. When he discovers a terrified young woman hiding in his trailer, he’s beyond shocked.

She’s been beaten, and apparently, she doesn’t speak. Cole is determined to see that no one ever lays a hand on Jenny again.

But she’s convinced dangerous men are looking for her. What will happen if they find her?

Here’s a sneak peek at the first chapter of JENNY’S VOICE. And don’t miss the book trailer following the excerpt.


RUN!

Every fiber of her being screamed at her, willing her to shake off the fog that veiled her mind, willing her to save herself.

Jenny Stone shakily pushed herself up into a sitting position in the back seat of the black SUV, ignoring the pulsing of her swollen left eye, trying desperately to focus with her right one as she peered through the dark-tinted windows.

Her minders, Slater and Wilcox (she had no idea of their first names, nor did she care to know) had left her when they’d gone into the truck stop restaurant where the truck sat parked.  They’d assumed she was unconscious, which she had been, momentarily knocked out by Slater’s right jab to the left side of her face.

This after backhanding her across the mouth.  Her mouth was filled with the harsh metallic tang of her own blood, and she tentatively pushed her tongue toward her puffy lip.  Thankfully, her teeth seemed to be intact, no thanks to Slater’s meaty blow.

All because she’d fought him.  And she’d do it again. Every time.

She might have no say when it came to Victor Sorkin, when he summoned her in the middle of the odd night, or when he gifted her to certain esteemed business associates.  But she’d be goddamned if she’d allow Victor’s slimy minions to presume to take their fill of her.

The trio had been on their way from Los Angeles to San Francisco.  An arms dealer with whom Victor hoped to do business was staying at the Four Seasons.  Jenny was meant to be a good-will offering for the weekend.
At the moment, she had a bigger problem, though.

“Now what are you going to do?” Wilcox had asked.  Jenny, her head pounding, had feigned unconsciousness.

“She’s all beat up.  We can’t take her to San Francisco like that.  And we can’t take her back to Mr. Sorkin, either.  He’ll want to know what happened.”

“She’s not going to tell him anything,” Slater had snarled.

“But what will you tell him?” Wilcox had wondered.

Slater had growled and punched the dashboard.  “Stupid retard cunt! Kicked me in the balls so hard, I still can’t breathe right.”

“What are we going to do?”

Squinting through her good eye, Jenny had seen Slater turn to look at her.  “We’ll have to kill her.”

“We?!  What the hell are you talking about?  I didn’t touch her,” Wilcox had squeaked.

“What happens if we take her to San Francisco?  Hauer calls Sorkin to complain about the merchandise.  And Sorkin kills us.”

He’d glared at Wilcox, daring him to contradict him.  “What happens if we take her back to LA like that? Sorkin kills us.”

He’d shaken his head.  “It’s the only way. We drive all the way to San Francisco.  Because he’ll be tracking us on GPS. We stay in front of the Four Seasons long enough to make it look like we took her upstairs.  Then we go to our hotel. We’ll rent a car, take her out into the boondocks, and get rid of her.”

“But Hauer will call to complain that she never got there,” Wilcox had reasoned.

“We’ll say he’s lying.  We’ll say we delivered the girl.  Then it’s all on Hauer.”

Wilcox had nodded slowly.  “It might just work.” He’d sounded somewhat less than convinced.

“Come on,” Slater had said, with one last glance into the backseat.

“Let’s go get something to eat and work out the details. The bitch is out cold anyway.”

After the pair had left, Jenny had forced herself to remain motionless, counting to a thousand before opening her eyes.  By now, her left eye was swollen completely shut, and her lip felt as though it was ten times its normal size.

She had to get out.  They’d be back any minute.  If she rode with them to San Francisco, there would be no escape.  This was her one chance. She supposed she should count her lucky stars Victor had decided for them to drive rather than fly.  Something about the private jet being grounded for routine maintenance.

The cloudy day threatened rain, but so far, it had been dry.  With the midday sun obscured by clouds as it was, Jenny wasn’t certain of the time, but she’d guess early afternoon.  The truck stop was busy, with semis and all sorts of vehicles constantly entering and leaving.

Across the way, she saw a cowboy in a pale straw hat checking on a horse in a vintage turquoise and white horse trailer pulled behind a silver pick-up truck.  Seemingly satisfied with the horse’s well-being, he turned and walked across the parking lot, passing right by her and into the restaurant as she watched from the SUV.

GO! her brain screamed at her.

She looked down at herself.  She was not dressed for walking around a truck stop.  In her slinky club dress with its halter top and micro-mini skirt, she was more suited for the function she was expected to perform.

Not anymore, Victor.  She kicked off the silver stilettos and glanced toward the restaurant.  She couldn’t see Slater and Wilcox in the window booths. It seemed safe to assume they were seated further inside.

Carefully, she opened the door and stepped barefoot onto the pavement.  The day was cool, and she instantly felt chilled. She closed the door quietly and, head down, she moved in the direction of the horse trailer.  

Once she got there, she scanned the parking lot.  Everyone seemed to be preoccupied with their own business.  On her tiptoes, she peered into the trailer. Only one of the two stalls was occupied.  She tried the tailgate hopefully, but it was locked. Glancing around again, she saw that the lot was briefly empty of people.  She stepped up onto the bumper, reached the top of the tailgate, and pushed herself up. With one last glance over her shoulder, she leaned forward, tumbling headfirst into the trailer.

The horse, a large brown and white spotted Appaloosa, whinnied in protest, stomping her feet and pulling at the rope tethering her to the front of the trailer.

Carefully avoiding the shuffling hooves, Jenny crab-scrambled backward to the front wall of the trailer.  A large black jacket hung from a hook, and she jerked it down, slipping it on and zipping up the front.

The jacket was huge, probably meant for someone the size of the cowboy she’d seen, but it was warm.  She tucked her knees under her chin and drew the jacket down over her bare legs and feet, pulling the hood over her head.

Come on, come on.  She willed her pounding heart to slow down as she waited for the cowboy to come back and drive them away from the truck stop.

JENNY’S VOICE by Pandora Spocks

Check out the official book trailer for JENNY’S VOICE.

You can pre-order your copy of JENNY’S VOICE at your favorite online bookseller, but the 99¢ special deal is exclusively at Amazon.

Weekend Excerpt–JENNY’S VOICE Cover Reveal!

💋 COMING FEBRUARY 12! 💋
JENNY’S VOICE, Redheads & Ranchers Book 1

A traumatized young woman held hostage for years. 
The rancher who comes to her rescue. 
The crime boss who will kill them both if he finds them.

Jenny Stone’s voice was silenced the horrific day ruthless crime boss Victor Sorkin executed her parents in cold blood and took her as his personal good luck charm. Now she’s his ‘pet’, at his mercy when he summons her to warm his bed. Or the beds of his more esteemed business associates.

When she sees her chance to escape, she takes it, hitching a ride with an unsuspecting cowboy, horse trainer Cole Caldwell. Cole’s stunned to find the terrified young redhead hiding in his horse trailer. She’s as skittish as some of the horses he works with, and she doesn’t even speak. But the nurturer in him wants to shelter her, to protect her. He’ll do his best to ignore the attraction he feels, content to help her know she’s safe with him.

When Jenny first escaped, her only thought was to get away. But now she’s worried. She’s put Cole in unspeakable danger. Should she leave before Victor finds them? Could it already be too late?

If you like your romance filled with hot cowboys, suspense, and happily-ever-afters, you’ll love JENNY’S VOICE.

JENNY’S VOICE is Book 1 in the Redheads & Ranchers Series. 
Sexy redheads and the ranchers they can’t resist. 
One-click your copy today! 
books2read.com/JennysVoice

JENNY’S VOICE is available everywhere for pre-order,
but for a limited time,
it’s just 99¢ exclusively at Amazon.

Weekend Excerpt–JENNY’S VOICE

Coming Soon!
JENNY’S VOICE
Redheads & Ranchers Book 1

Redheads & Ranchers is my new three-book series of stand-alone contemporary erotic romance novels, each featuring a sexy redhead and a hot rancher they can’t resist.

First up is JENNY’S VOICE. It’s the story of Jenny Stone, a young woman in a world of trouble, and Cole Caldwell, a horse trainer with a heart of gold who wants nothing more than to protect her.

Upon returning to his ranch after picking up a new client’s horse, gifted horse trainer Cole Caldwell is shocked to find a terrified young woman hiding in his horse trailer. She’s been beaten, and beneath his old barn jacket, she’s barely dressed. She’s not even wearing shoes.

Mute since the violent day she was taken, Jenny Stone saw her chance to escape the thugs who’ve been holding her for the past two years, and she took it. Hiding in the horse trailer seemed like her only option.

Now, how can she explain to Cole that dangerous criminals will be out there looking for her? How long can she hide at his horse ranch? And can she ever recover her voice?

Here’s a teaser from JENNY’S VOICE.


By three o’clock that afternoon, Caldwell Ranch had been restored to normal.  Jenny helped Cole untack the horses and put everything away in the barn. The canopies and coolers were returned to their proper places as well.

As they worked together, Cole was uncomfortably aware of the conversation he needed to have with Jenny.  He wondered if he could put it off. It had already been a huge day for her. She’d faced her fear of being seen and he was proud of her, so proud.  But this was one of those conversations best had sooner rather than later.

He cleared his throat.  “You know, I feel kind of sorry for Apollo and Dahlia.  Everybody else got a nice workout today. They must be feeling a little left out.”

Jenny chuckled, hooking a thumb at Jade.

“Well, Jade, too.  But I’ve been working her hard, so she probably appreciated the day off.”  He stepped toward Jenny.

“Maybe we could take Apollo and Dahlia for a trail ride.  There’s a ridge toward the back of the property, overlooks the whole ranch and it has a nice view of the sunset.  What do you say?”

An hour later, they neared the ridge he’d told her about.  Perched atop Dahlia, Jenny had easily made the transition from riding in the ring to trail riding.  It seemed the more she rode, the more comfortable she was. Again, he worried about the time when Dahlia would have to go back home with Meredith.

I’ll just buy Jenny another horse, he decided.

As the trail grew steeper, Cole moved ahead on Apollo, leading the way up the ridge.  He glanced back at Jenny.

“How are you doing?”

She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up, her small whiteboard hanging at her side from a cross-body shoulder strap he’d fashioned for her.

He nodded with satisfaction.  “You’re doing great, we’re almost there.”

At the top of the rise, the ground leveled off in a grassy area dominated by a huge old oak tree.  Cole slid out of his saddle, gave Apollo’s nose an affectionate rub, and left the horse to graze as he headed to help Jenny down.
With both horses munching contentedly on grass, Cole and Jenny retreated to the shade of the giant tree.  Cole patted the trunk.

“This was one of my favorite places growing up.  When I needed a minute to myself, I could come up here and just be.”  He eyed the upper branches with a wry grin.  “Used to be a pretty good climber, too. I could sit way up there and look out all over the valley.  I also got out of a lot of chores that way.” He winked, and Jenny smiled.

The late March afternoon wasn’t inordinately warm, but it was as dry as ever.  From the small backpack he’d worn, Cole retrieved a pair of bottled waters, handing one to Jenny.  She unscrewed the cap and sipped thirstily as she stood at the edge of the rise looking out over the ranch below.

Recapping her water, she tucked it under her arm and scribbled on her board.  I had no idea how big the ranch is.

Cole nodded.  “Yep. It’s quite a spread.  Back in the day, my folks ran a much larger operation with a bunch of ranch hands helping out.  Later, they pared it back a little, then when I took over, I made it just about horse training. It’s what makes me happiest, and I’m able to make a good living, so it works out.”

Jenny nodded, wandering around the perimeter of the clearing as she took in the 360-degree view.  Occasionally, her gaze flitted in Cole’s direction and he wondered if he imagined a cautious glint in her green eyes.

Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he decided to plunge ahead.  “You know, Jenny, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He sighed heavily, and she froze in her circuit of the clearing, her eyes now locked on him.

“Last night after you went to bed, I remembered that I needed to order some medicine for Minnie’s hoof.  I went online and pulled up my history to find where I looked at the medicine the other day, and that’s when I noticed some tabs I didn’t recognize.”

Jenny’s jaw tightened noticeably, and she crossed her arms protectively as she stared at a spot beyond him.

“You know you’re welcome to use the computer or anything else at the house,” he said quickly.  “You can consider my home as your own. And I didn’t mean to pry into your business, I really didn’t.”

Sweeping his hat from his head, he took a step toward Jenny.  “I read the article about Jennifer Stone from Boulder.”

Jenny cut her gaze away, but not before he saw the pain that flashed in her green eyes.

“Jenny,” his voice soft as he took another step toward her, “someone killed your parents?”

She drew a ragged breath and nodded brusquely without making eye contact.

“Damn it,” he swore softly.  “Were you there when it happened?”

She clapped her right hand over her mouth as large tears rolled down her cheeks, and again, she nodded.

Cole took another step closer.  “And then they took you?”

Jenny’s eyes squeezed shut as she sobbed silently.  Cole dropped his hat and went to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to himself.  She was stiff in his arms, but he pulled her close, murmuring softly against the top of her head.

Eventually, she relaxed, leaning into his embrace, sobbing into the front of his shirt.  He held her like that for a long time before she quieted. Easing his hold, he peered down at her.  “Jenny, I’m so sorry that happened to you. And I’m so sorry about the way I found out about it.”

He exhaled loudly, shaking his head.  “But once I knew about it, I had to tell you.  I don’t play those games, those ‘keeping things secret’ kinds of things.  I believe in being honest, always. The thing is,” he took her hand in his, “now that I know, you don’t carry this burden by yourself.  I carry it with you.”

Tentatively, she looked up at him.  Cole saw the fear and suspicion in her eyes, willed her to see the sincerity in his own.  “I care about you, Jenny. And I’ll be…”

He cut off, infuriated at the idea of someone harming Jenny.  Deliberately softening his voice, he continued. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone hurt you, ever again.

JENNY’S VOICE, Pandora Spocks

JENNY’S VOICE, Redheads & Ranchers Book 1, is due out in February. Keep watching here for the official cover reveal and the release date.

Weekend Excerpt–New Year, HOT New Series!

I’m so excited about the New Year! 2019 is bringing my brand new series, Redheads & Ranchers, a three-book collection of stand-alone novels featuring gorgeous redheads and the ranchers they can’t resist. First up is JENNY’S VOICE, due out early this winter.

Upon returning to his ranch after picking up a new client’s horse, gifted horse trainer Cole Caldwell is shocked to find a terrified young woman hiding in his horse trailer. She’s been beaten, and beneath his old barn jacket, she’s barely dressed. She’s not even wearing shoes.

Mute since the violent day she was taken, Jenny Stone saw her chance to escape the thugs who’ve been holding her for the past two years, and she took it. Hiding in the horse trailer seemed like her only option. Now, how can she explain to Cole that dangerous criminals will be out there looking for her? How long can she hide at the ranch? And can she ever recover her voice?

Here’s a little sneak peek at JENNY’S VOICE.

After Cole left, Jenny aimlessly wandered around the house. She gazed again at the photos hanging in the hallway, making a mental note to ask Cole about them sometime.

In the kitchen, she found the chicken he’d mentioned, a package of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, then opened an upper cupboard. There she found flour, salt, pepper, olive oil, and a small container of dried parsley. She frowned. Dried would do if he didn’t have fresh parsley, she supposed.

In the fridge, she found butter, grated Parmesan, a lemon, and a partial bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. She surveyed everything on the counter, frowning.

Capers. If only he has capers. Dragging a chair from the table, she climbed up and peered into the upper cabinets once more. Shoving aside all the items in the front, she leaned up on her tiptoes, straining to see what else might be in there. All the way in the back, she spied a small round jar. She had to climb onto the counter to reach it.

Capers! Yes! Gleefully, she pumped her fist in the air.

Now that she had everything she needed, she filled the sink with water and submerged the package of frozen chicken. Cole had said he’d be gone a couple of hours. That should be plenty of time to prepare chicken piccata.

Before, Jenny hadn’t done a lot of cooking. She’d always been busy with school and her friends. Her mother hadn’t much of a cook herself, preferring to pick up take-out on her way home from work. That was before.

After, alone in her little room, sometimes she was given old magazines to pass the time. Never anything with news, mind you, but magazines about home décor and cooking, issues that someone else had thumbed through and gotten tired of, always months out of date. But to Jenny, they’d been a tiny window onto the outside world.

Hour after hour, she’d pore over the articles and recipes, even creating the dishes in the kitchen of her imagination, following step after step. Eyes closed, she’d mixed seasonings, sautéed the beef or chicken or whatever the directions called for, and at times, she’d have sworn she actually smelled the dish she was cooking.

A recipe for chicken piccata had particularly interested her, and she’d read it so many times, she had memorized it. And with all the ingredients, she was finally going to bring the dish to life here in Cole’s kitchen.

While she waited for the chicken to thaw, she gazed out the kitchen window. Across the yard was another pasture she hadn’t noticed before. She couldn’t see any horses there, but waving in the gentle March breeze were scores of wildflowers.

They’d look beautiful on the table with dinner. Anxiously, she wrung her hands. Could she risk going outside? Cole wasn’t home. There would be no one to protect her.

Her stomach flipped at the thought of Victor or his men watching her. That was stupid. He had no idea where she was. No way to trace her. How could he?

She shook her head. I will not let Victor run my life. Not anymore.

With determined steps, she walked to the front door, took a deep breath, and opened it. Glancing around, she saw no one. The horses were still out in the pasture, although Minnie had returned to the gate as though she wanted to go back to the barn.

The only sound she could hear was the wind whispering through the oak trees along the drive. She glanced to her left and saw the flowers she’d seen from the window. Blue sat at her side and looked up at her questioningly. She patted his head.

Twenty steps. Twenty running steps will get me to the flowers. Then twenty steps back. She breathed in deeply and glanced down at the dog.

Heart pounding, she took off sprinting across the side yard, ducking under the fence rail and into the field. Blue barked happily and chased along beside her, unsure of the game but pleased to be playing anyway. Jenny stopped at a large patch of bright yellow poppies and grabbed a handful. She was about to run back when she spied tall purple lupines further into the field. Glancing around to reassure herself that no one was around, she darted to the lupines and snatched a few before running back to the house.

She slammed the front door closed and leaned against it, panting. Ears up and tail wagging, Blue grinned up at her as if to ask if they could do it again. Jenny smiled and patted his head, then went to find a vase for the flowers.

–JENNY’S VOICE, Redheads & Ranchers Book 1

Keep watching right here for the official cover reveal of JENNY’S VOICE, and for information about its release date.

In the meantime, who doesn’t love a modern-day adult fairy tale?

See why CHASING ORDINARY is the
2018 New Apple Summer eBook Awards Medalist in Literary Erotica.
Get your copy here:
books2read.com/ChasingOrdinary

Weekend Excerpt–Sneak Peek at Redheads & Ranchers

My current WIP is actually a three-book series called Redheads & Ranchers.  The stand-alone novels will be connected in that they’re about hot ranchers and the redheads they can’t resist.

The first book is called RESCUED BY THE RANCHER.

Earlier this week, I posted this brand new teaser in my Facebook group, Pandora’s Passionista Paradise.   Want to see new stuff before anybody else?  Click the name to join us!

Here’s the new teaser…

Cole felt a familiar sense of relief settle over him as he locked the gate behind the horse trailer and climbed back into the cab of the truck. Arriving home at the ranch where he’d grown up, locking out the world at large, always gave him a feeling of peace.

It was home. He couldn’t put it more simply than that. It was where he’d spent his entire life, with the exception of the time he spent in the Marines. Following a year in Afghanistan, he’d worked out the remainder of his enlistment in Bridgeport, where he’d trained horses and soldiers for combat missions. He’d been thrilled to be back in the saddle, and the fact that home was a short couple of hours away had been the cherry on top.

When his enlistment had ended, he’d returned to the ranch and built his reputation as an in-demand horse trainer. Happy that Cole was back in the fold, his parents had sold some stocks and retired to Santa Fe, leaving him in charge of the ranch. His older sister Beth had been more than happy with that turn of events. As much as she’d loved growing up in the country, she was far happier living in San Francisco and pursuing a career in law enforcement.

Cole pulled up in front of the white barn, put the truck in park, and turned off the ignition. He climbed down and closed the door, heading to the back of the trailer.

“Here we are, Dahlia. We’ll get you all brushed, then we’ll put you in your new stall. Your supper’s already there.” As the sun slid lower in the sky, Cole sighed, glad he’d thought ahead to prepare the stall early that morning before heading west to Carmel Valley. He was tired, and ready to be home.

He unlocked the tailgate and lowered it, starting to step inside when he froze. Someone was crouched down in the front of the trailer. Instantly, his senses snapped to high alert.

With two determined strides, he covered the distance between himself and the stranger, who was completely covered in his own black hoodie. “What the hell are you doing in my trailer?” he growled, reaching to grasp the front of the jacket and lift the person off the floor, pressing whoever it was hard against the wall of the trailer.

He heard a soft gasp as he used his free hand to whip off the hood, revealing a young woman, her red hair matted down from the hood, her face swollen and bruised. One eye was completely swollen shut, while the other, the most piercing shade of green, stared back at him in stark terror.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, gently setting her down on what he realized were bare feet. “Are you okay? How did you get in here?”

The woman just stared at him in silence, her battered mouth gaping in a silent scream.

Frustrated, Cole lifted his hat and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just startled, is all.” Glancing down, he saw that his jacket extended to the middle of her thighs, and her legs were as bare as her feet. Fleetingly, he wondered if she was dressed at all.

He reached toward her and she flinched, gasping again. “Easy now,” he murmured, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her quaking, whether from the chill of the late March afternoon, or from fear, he couldn’t say.

“Are you okay?” He leaned down, searching her good eye for some sign of communication. She just stood shaking.

Cole blew out an exasperated breath. “Okay, I have to get this horse settled. After that, we can try to sort things out. As long as you’re okay. Are you hurt anywhere besides your face?”

Her swelled lips were closed now, and she trembled violently, but she made no effort to respond to him.

“Fuck it,” he breathed. “We’re going to put you in the truck,” he told her. “We’ll turn on the heat and get you warmed up while I take care of Dahlia, here.”

Carefully, with an arm around her waist and his other hand on her shoulder, he guided her out of the trailer and to the passenger door of the truck’s cab. He opened the door and lifted her onto the seat. She was so light, like a little bird or something, he mused.

Hurrying around to the driver’s side, he started the truck and turned the heat on full blast. Then he looked back to her.

“Are you thirsty? Can I get you some water?” He reached into the small cooler he’d put behind his seat and pulled out a bottled water. When he held it out to her, she snatched at it, using shaky hands to try to open it. She couldn’t manage it so he took it, unscrewing the cap and handing it back to her. Shakily, with both hands she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank greedily, spilling some down the front of herself. She’d drained the bottle in no time, and Cole handed her a second one after he’d loosened the cap for her. She fixed him with her bright green eye and nodded in thanks.

He nodded, too. “Okay, you stay here and get warm. I’ll take care of the horses, then we can go to the house and figure things out.”

He closed the door and headed back to get Dahlia out of the trailer, but his mind was racing. Who is she? What happened to her? How did she get into the trailer?

He led Dahlia to an empty stall between two other horses. She offered light resistance until she was inside, where she stood still long enough for him to remove the rope halter. He spoke soothingly to the horse as he offered her a bucket of feed.

From inside the barn, Cole could see the young woman in the truck. She’d pulled the hood back up, and she stared straight ahead, sipping the water. From his vantage point, he saw the right, unbattered side of her face. Apparently, she’d been beaten by someone who was right-handed.
Beaten. The idea of someone laying hands on this woman made his blood boil. He took a deep breath and tried to consider the situation logically.

Clearly, she’s been assaulted. By? Cole shrugged. Her husband? A boyfriend?
He chewed on that idea for a moment. A domestic abuse situation makes sense. So when did she get into the trailer?

Hanging buckets of feed in the other stalls, he considered the question. I stopped twice after leaving Meredith and Carmel Valley. Once for lunch. The other time, for gas about half an hour before we got back to the ranch.

He shook his head. When I stopped for gas, I paid at the pump. I never left the truck. It had to have been at the truck stop.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth and looked back toward the truck. The woman was resting her head against the passenger window.

He distributed fresh hay into each stall, running the scenario in his mind. She was beaten, and she ran away. He thought of her bare feet. So fast, she didn’t even bother with shoes. She was in a hurry to get away, so she climbed into the horse trailer, hoping to be taken away from the person hurting her.

Putting away the wheelbarrow, he glanced back at the woman in the truck. So now what?

I’m hoping RESCUED BY THE RANCHER will be out before the end of the year, with books 2 and 3 to follow.

In the meantime, have you read the Dream Dominant Collection?  It’s a series of four stand-alone novels featuring a light BDSM theme–hot Alpha males and the sassy subs they can’t resist.

Start with LUKE & BELLA, Dream Dominant Book 1,
available at your favorite online bookseller.
books2read.com/LukeAndBella1

Weekend Excerpt–I’ve Been Busy

Have you ever had one thing in mind and suddenly it morphs into something completely other?

I’ve been hard at work on my new book, which I’d been tentatively calling Voices, knowing that ultimately that title would change.  Well, that has turned into what is now Book 1 of a three-book series, Redheads & Ranchers.

With that first book, which I’m now calling Rescued by the Rancher, well underway at over 42k words so far, I’ve jumped headlong into the second book, Romancing the Rancher.

In Romancing the Rancher, corporate lawyer P.K. (Poppy) Chastain heads to Idaho to try to convince 5th generation rancher Hunter McFall to sell a small parcel of his land to the developers intent on building a mountain resort nearby.

This is from the (unedited) first chapter of Romancing the Rancher.

Hunter McFall squinted his hazel eyes at the dust trail on the horizon and shook his head in annoyance.  He didn’t have time for this.  He had 1,500 head of cattle that needed moving to new pasture.

Not that it made this day any different from any other day.  Cattle need to be rotated to fresh grazing land.  The herd had spent yesterday down on the flood plain beside the bend of Deer Creek.  Today he wanted them moved into the foothills.

But he had Rolly Stevens to head up moving the beeves.  Rolly had been with the McFalls since before Hunter ever sat on a horse.  And the younger hands listened to the old man, respected him.

And if Hunter was honest with himself, he didn’t mind a day off the trail too badly.  Except he wasn’t looking forward to this appointment.

The dust trail was closer now.  Hunter sighed deeply and nudged the bay beneath him, gently pulling the reins to the right.

“Let’s go, Cheyenne,” he muttered.  The horse tossed her head and turned to the right, heading back toward the house.

P.K. Chastain.  Just the name irritated him.  The notion of a grown man going by his initials struck him as pretentious as fuck.  The fact that P.K. Chastain was a lawyer representing Slade & Howell didn’t engender him to Hunter anymore than his name did.

He’d received the letters and emails from this Chastain fellow, the ones making all kinds of shiny promises on behalf of Slade & Howell.  But Hunter didn’t care.  He wasn’t interested in selling any McFall land to some developer who wanted to build a mountain resort.  Keep that shit over by Sun Valley if that’s what you had in mind.

Here in Deer Creek Valley and the Boxroot Mountains, McFalls had raised cattle for five generations, and by God, he intended to continue the family legacy until his last breath.

A vehicle came around the bend just as Hunter loosely wrapped Cheyenne’s reins around a rail in the shade of a large cottonwood.  From beneath his wide-brimmed hat, he glowered at the silver Range Rover as it pulled to a stop along the side of the gravel drive.  City people always fancied themselves rugged outdoorsmen when they came out to this neck of Idaho.  Yet another reason he wasn’t interested in having a luxury resort anywhere near McFall.

He set his mouth in a firm line and walked toward the SUV.  The driver’s door opened, and a shiny black high-heeled pump emerged, followed by a shapely calf.  Surprised, Hunter stopped, watching as a petite redhead stepped out of the car.  Her hair was done up in one of those fancy, efficient updos with a few loose wisps around her face, which was obscured by large designer sunglasses.  Hunter’s eyes zeroed in on sensuously shaped ruby-red lips.

The woman leaned back into the SUV, affording Hunter a view of a nicely rounded ass, neatly packaged in a black pencil skirt.  She emerged a moment later holding a tan leather satchel.  Closing the car door, she marched toward him.

“Mr. McFall?”  She stuck out a well-manicured hand, her nails painted the same red as her lips.  “I’m P.K. Chastain.  We’ve emailed back and forth?”

Slowly, Hunter reached out and took her tiny hand in his own, suddenly aware of how rough and calloused ranch work made them.

You’re P.K. Chastain?”

The redhead tilted her head and removed the sunglasses, revealing deep chestnut eyes in a shade he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.  “You were expecting a man, I suppose.”  Her tone was defensive.

“I guess when I heard that a lawyer was coming out here, I just assumed.”

P.K. Chastain narrowed her eyes at him.  “Maybe the news didn’t make it this far out in the boondocks,” she said, one hand holding the satchel, the other a fist on her hip.  “But it’s the 21st century now.  Women get to vote and everything.”

Hunter suppressed a grin, his mustache shifting with the effort.  “Seems I heard tell about something like that,” he drawled for effect.  “Maybe it was the fact that you go by your initials.  What does P.K. stand for, anyway?”

He watched her cheeks color slightly as the woman squared her shoulders.  “That’s neither here nor there.  Is there someplace we can sit and discuss the generous offer being made to you by Slade & Howell?”

He pursed his lips and watched her for moment.  Then he nodded.  “We can meet in my office.”  He gestured toward the huge log home that had been in his family for generations.  When he’d been a boy, his grandfather had added an extension to the north end of the house, creating an office from which to run ranch business.

“If we’re going to have a business, my boy, we’d better treat it like one,” the elder Hunter McFall had told his young namesake.

That Hunter McFall had been the first of his family to attend college, and his son and grandson had followed in his footsteps.  They’d taken what had been a rough and tumble ranch and turned it into a successful cattle business, acquiring extra acreage along the way as some of their neighbors failed to keep up with the times.

P.K. Chastain, leather satchel in hand, clipped purposefully across the gravel drive and up the steps to the covered porch that ran the length of the front of the house and around its southern side.  Hunter followed along behind, amused by the turn of events.

At the door, she stopped, allowing him to open it and usher her inside.  Just inside the door, he paused to hang his black felt hat on a rack beside the door.  His mother had always been firm: “No hats in the house.”  He supposed that extended to the office as well.

Hunter imagined he could see the office from his guest’s point of view as he inhaled the familiar scent of leather and wood.  Behind the huge reclaimed wood desk, antique branding irons hung in a row from an old board on the wall above a barnwood credenza.  Opposite the desk were a pair of leather wingback chairs.  The chairs matched twin oxblood leather chesterfield couches that flanked an antique trunk turned coffee table in the center of the room.

On the opposite end from his desk sat a long wood conference table surrounded by leather club chairs.  Western art from his grandfather’s collection accented the walls and the entire space was crowned by an enormous iron chandelier hung from the peaked roof.

The lawyer glanced around appreciatively.  “It’s lovely,” she murmured.

Hunter nodded.  “Thank you.  The original cabin is over a hundred years old, but it’s been added to over the years.  My grandfather added this office extension when he took over the business over forty years ago.”

“Lovely,” she repeated.  She gestured with her satchel.  “Where would you like me to set up?”

Set up?

He shrugged slightly.  “Anywhere you’re most comfortable is fine.”

He watched as the woman’s gaze flitted all around the room before it settled on the conference table.

“That looks good,” she said, and moved in that direction, her high heels clipping against the wide plank floor.

She placed the satchel on the table and opened it, rooting around until she found what she was looking for.  She handed Hunter a glossy-covered booklet, a gorgeous shot of the Boxroot Mountains gracing the front with Boxroot Mountain Resort declared in bold, rustic letters.

“Please, have a seat,” she gestured to the chair at the head of the table.

Hunter suppressed a smirk at the city woman telling him where to sit in his own office.  Curious to see where this was all leading, he sank into the chair and watched as she dug into the bag once again.

“If you’d like to flip through the prospectus while I get my presentation ready,” she said.  “I won’t be long.”  She looked up at him.  “You do have wi-fi?”

He nodded.  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.  “All the way out here in the boondocks, we have wi-fi and the interwebs.  Why, hell, we even have the dot com.”

She paused her movements to purse her lips at him.  Then she went back to her digging, tucking a few stray red hairs behind her left ear.  From her bag, she extracted a small black cube about the size of a baseball.  This she set up on a small tripod on the table, then she went back to rooting around in the satchel.

Hunter tried unsuccessfully to look away from the way her wispy white blouse gapped in the front every time she leaned over the bag.  Ms. Chastain had stellar cleavage.  That paired with the nicely rounded ass he’d appreciated outside made her an intriguing distraction from the ordinary.

He didn’t look over the prospectus.  He didn’t need to.  He wasn’t interested in selling.  But he’d hear her out.  It beat the hell out of rounding up reluctant Herefords.

I’m hoping to release Rescued by the Rancher, Redheads & Ranchers Book 1, before Christmas.  Romancing the Rancher should be ready in early 2019.  And the third book will be well on its way by then.

In the meantime, 2018 Golden Flogger Award Winner FOR SPARROW is currently on sale for 99¢ through October 8, exclusively at Amazon.  Use this LINK to one-click your copy now.