Monday, September 9, 2019

Cover Reveal for California or Bust and First Chapter Sample!

California or Bust 
Is a "catcher if you can" romance that is both sweet and spicy. This one will have you turning pages to find out if the con-man and the cursed widow can find love while chasing dreams and outlaws clear to California.  
Releasing in November 2020 
Cover design; R.C. Matthews 

Read a sample of the first chapter and then browse the library tab to the left where all currently released books are listed. Enjoy!

Chapter One

“Just admit you set your house on fire, and we’ll go from there.”
Charmayne flipped her hair behind her left shoulder and then crossed her arms over her chest. Why on earth would she do such a thing—on purpose! 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“You smell like rotten feet and smoke. If you don’t admit to it, I’ll have arrest you on suspicion.”
 The sheriff’s threat bounced around the courthouse’s cold and massive interior. The sound permeated a chill right through her dress causing a shiver to ripple through her. She couldn’t bear the thought of being jailed for days-on-end in such a frigid place, but fact was, she was guilty as charged.
 “Fine. I did it. But I was only trying to recreate my late husband’s recipe. Good whiskey-making is a skill that can only be perfected through trial and error. I was clumsy and I somehow kicked a lantern onto a puddle on the floor and the whole house shot up in flames. Thanks for asking if I’m alright, by the way. Thankfully, I managed to scramble up the flaming steps until I fell out of the kitchen door.” 
The sheriff squeezed the bridge of his nose as his shoulders bobbled in response. Air squeaked through tightly pressed lips as he failed to hide his amusement.
How rude.
“I fail to see the humor in my near-death experience.”
 “Charlie. I could smell that toxin a block away. A sneeze would have ignited that house. Good whiskey? More like homemade kerosene. You don’t have a fiancĂ©e burning to death in that house, do you?”
Indignation swept over her in a hot rush. She clenched her fist.
 “No, Sheriff. I was all alone.” 
“That’s a relief. What in the world made you think you could make whiskey?” 
She dug her nails into the pad of her palms. “I’m flat broke. What else was I supposed to do?” 
“Anything but that. God-almighty girl, you’re nothing but one disaster after another—and you need a bath.”

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