Book Spotlight on Jackson by LaQuette (GIVEAWAY).....

In a place of starting over, a woman struggles to keep her family's home afloat with the help of an unexpected ally with a sizzling romance springing up between them.  Keep reading to get a tempting taste of Jackson by LaQuette, then add this sensual and suspenseful contemporary romance to your bookshelf.  In honor of this first installment in the Restoration Ranch series make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win 1 of 5 copies of this book too!

Restoration Ranch may have been the first step on her road to redemption...but Jackson Dean will be the last mile.

Aja Everett longs to turn her old family ranch into a place where anyone can find rest and healing. But her big heart’s bound to get her in trouble if she’s not careful—someone wants her gone, and they’ll do whatever it takes to drive her away from the land that’s her lifeblood. Whether she’s willing to admit it or not, she needs help.

She needs a man like Ranger Jackson Dean.

Jackson doesn’t trust love. He once made the mistake of following his heart and all he’d gotten was pain in return. But when city-slicking do-gooder Aja Everett asks for his help, he can’t stay away...and as attraction sizzles and protective instincts flare, she may be the only woman able to restore the heart of this Texas Ranger.

EXCERPT:

Jackson Dean made his way inside the Texas Rangers’ Headquarters and headed straight for his office. It was early in the morning and he wanted nothing more than to still be in his bed. Unfortunately, a call from his boss, Major Hargrove, put the kibosh on that plan.

He twisted the knob and switched on the light, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness flooding the room. He remembered how happy he was to get an office of his own. The room was nothing much to speak of. A typical windowless space in a government building made of white concrete walls and filled with metal furniture. But no matter how bland it was, he was still proud to have his name etched on the door because it came with his promotion to team leader eight years ago.

Today, it looked almost exactly the same as it had when he’d first been given the keys. But at the moment, when sleep hadn’t yet completely let loose its grip on him, boundless pride wasn’t the emotion he was experiencing. No, it was more like annoyance and frustration grating on his nerves at having to come in early after working in the field late last night.

He dropped his bag on a nearby chair and headed straight for the coffeemaker on top of a metal filing cabinet. Fresh, frequent, and plentiful caffeine would be the only thing to keep him from getting an insubordination write-up in his personnel file, so he opened a couple of bottled waters and poured them into the machine.

A tap on his door grabbed his attention. He glanced up from it and rested his eyes on the yet-to-start dripping coffee machine and groaned.

“Someone must want me to get a write up.”

Another tap and he pushed away from the filing cabinet and opened the door. “Morning Jackson,” Major Hargrove didn’t wait to be invited in. He just assumed the open door was all the invitation he needed.

“Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“I’m still half asleep,” Jackson groaned as he stepped away from the door and made it back to his coffee pot.

“At least you had the chance to go to sleep, I’ve been up for about twenty-four hours since I got this call just before I was about to head home yesterday.” Jackson stared through narrowed slits. Hargrove didn’t play with his time. He stayed when necessary, but he was obsessed with him and his rangers having a clear work-life balance. Nothing kept him from punching out at six in the evening unless there was a real emergency. “You made it sound like it was life or death that I came in at,” He raised his left wrist pretending to read the wide-faced watch there. “ass O’ clock in the morning. What’s going on Major?”

His boss slid a file on Jackson’s desk and took the seat in front of it waiting patiently for Jackson to fill the mug he’d grabbed the second the alarm on the machine told him his brew was ready.

“You’re not gonna put any milk or sugar in the rotgut?”

“No sir,” he replied, sitting down and taking a long slow sip. “I like it the way it is: strong and black, just like me.”

He took another sip before opening the file. The first thing that caught his attention was the picture of a woman in a fitted designer dress. Not that he knew fashion from foam rubber, but the way the black material hugged her full curves, he was certain it had been made or at least tailored, just for her.

“I’m not gonna be ready to read this without at least another cup. Just give me the highlights. Who is she?”

His boss crossed an ankle over his knee and tilted his head. “She’s the niece of a friend. A judge in Hill Country. Her property has been vandalized and the judge needs someone to look into it.”

Jackson felt his brow inching higher into his hairline. Something about the way Major Hargrove said “someone” scratched at his bullshit meter.

“What do the locals have to say about it?”

Hargrove lifted an open palm before letting it fall back to his knee. “Not a thing. There’s some bad blood between the local sheriff’s department and Ms. Everett.”

Jackson shifted in his seat, the coffee plus his boss’ preliminary recount was starting to sketch an outline to this tale of a spoiled judge’s niece using her uncle’s connections to get what she wanted.

“Anyway, the judge wants to make sure this is taken seriously. Especially since the vandalism has escalated from fence posts and a scaffold being knocked down to her barn being burned to the ground yesterday.”

Jackson sat up straighter. “Anyone hurt?”

“Minor cuts and bruises on Ms. Everett. Her uncle called me while she was being seen at the hospital. Asked me to get her a protective detail and send a team out to investigate.”

“She pointing fingers at anyone?”

Hargrove stood up and tapped on top of the beautiful woman’s picture. “Don’t know. But you can ask when she gets here. I assigned Jennings and Gleason to her protective detail overnight. They’re bringing her in first thing this morning so she can swear out a statement. Get your team together and figure this thing out.” He walked toward the door confident his orders would be followed. And they would be. Jackson might give his boss shit, but he always got the job done.

He looked at the picture of one Ms. Aja Everett again. He ran his finger slowly over the high cheekbones that turned her eyes into barely-opened slits as her wide grin smiled back at him. “Why would anyone want to harm you?”

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AUTHOR INFO:

LAQUETTE writes savvy, sexy contemporary romance. She is the 2016 Author of the Year Golden Apple Award Winner, 2016 Write Touch Reader’s Choice Winner, and a 2018 Passionate Plume Finalist. She is an advocate for the #WeNeedDiverseRomance campaign. LaQuette, a native of Brooklyn, lives in Pennsylvania with her family. Learn more about her HERE.

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Book Spotlight on The Outlaw’s Daughter by Margaret Brownley (GIVEAWAY)

A woman who grew up in a family of outlaws finds herself drawn to a man of law which complicates her future in this historical romance full of hard truths, hopes, and dreams.  Keep reading to get a tempting taste of The Outlaw’s Daughter by Margaret Brownley, then add it to your bookshelf when it releases on May 26th.  In honor of this third installment in the Haywire Brides series make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win 1 of 5 sets of the first two books in this series too!

He may be a Texas Ranger but he only has eyes for the outlaw’s beautiful daughter...

Texas Ranger Matt Taggert is on the trail of a wanted man. He has good reason to believe that Ellie-May’s late husband was involved in a stagecoach robbery, and he’s here to see justice done. But when he arrives in town, he discovers the thief has become a local hero...and his beautiful young widow isn’t too happy to see some lawman out to tarnish her family’s newly spotless reputation.

Ellie-May’s shaken by her encounter with the Ranger. Having grown up an outlaw’s daughter, she’ll do anything to keep her children safe—and if that means hardening her heart against the handsome lawman’s smiles, then so be it. Because she knows Matt isn’t about to give up his search. He’s out to redeem himself and find proof that Ellie-May’s husband wasn’t the saint everyone claims...even if it means losing the love neither expected to discover along the way.

EXCERPT:

Haywire, Texas

1887

“Hold it right there, mister!”

Matt Taggert froze in place. The woman’s voice sounded serious, as did the metallic click announcing she was armed. Not wanting to alarm her, he held his hands out where they could be seen and turned to face her, taking it nice and easylike.

The owner of the voice stood at the entrance of the barn, the sun behind her back. The woman was small in stature but nonetheless looked like she meant business. Least her shotgun sure enough did.

Loosely braided hair the color of silken corn fell from beneath a floppy felt hat. Keen blue eyes looked him up and down, stopping momentarily to study the Colt hanging from his side and the badge on his leather vest. Apparently, nothing she saw relieved her mind as her weapon remained pointed at his chest.

“You can put your shotgun down, ma’am,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”

Matt’s assurances won him no favor, and the shotgun didn’t budge. “What are you doing, snooping ’round my property?” she demanded.

“Name’s Taggert. Matt Taggert, Texas Ranger,” he said. When even his name and profession didn’t convince her to lower her weapon, he added, “I’m looking for Neal Blackwell. I knocked on the door of the house, but there was no answer. Thought maybe I’d find him here in the barn.”

“Well, you thought wrong, mister.”

He studied the woman with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t mind my asking, ma’am, who am I speaking to?”

“I’m Mrs. Blackwell.”

“Mrs.—” That was a surprise. If her husband did indeed rob a stage, he sure in blazes hadn’t spent any of the stolen loot on his wife. Her sinewy body looked like it had been shaped by hard work and even harder times. If that wasn’t bad enough, her dress had enough patches to shingle a roof. The scuffed leather boots showing beneath the frayed hem of her skirt fared no better.

Nor did the animals in the barn, which included one skinny milk cow and a swaybacked mare.

Nevertheless, the woman earned his begrudging respect. Despite her shabby attire, she held herself with a quiet dignity that seemed at odds with her circumstances. He sensed that her squared shoulders stemmed from hard-earned inner strength.

“I need to talk to your husband,” he said.

Some emotion he couldn’t decipher flickered across her face. “Well, you won’t find him here.”

“If you’ll kindly tell me where I can find him, I’ll be on my way.”

Suspicion clouded her eyes, and he could almost see the cogwheels turning in her head. “What business does a Texas Ranger have with Neal?”

Before he could answer, a boy no older than five or six appeared by her side and tugged on her apron. “Mama?”

Dressed in knee pants and a checkered red shirt, the child peered at Matt from beneath a black slouch hat. A handsome lad, he had his mother’s blond hair and big blue eyes. He also matched his mother’s determined demeanor.

Matt grimaced. He hadn’t counted on Blackwell being a family man. Nothing worse than having to arrest a man in front of his children. It was bad enough cuffing one in the presence of his wife. But if Blackwell couldn’t answer Matt’s questions, arresting him was a real possibility.

The woman’s stance didn’t waver, but her voice softened as she addressed her son. “Go back to the house, Lionel. Mama’s busy right now.”

Before leaving, the boy looked Matt up and down, curiosity written on his little round face. “Is he a bad man, Mama?”

“Let’s hope for his sake he’s not,” his mama replied. “Now, go.”

Lionel’s face grew more solemn as his probing eyes met Matt’s. Matt winked in hopes of relieving the boy’s mind, but the stoic look remained. Never had Matt seen a child so young look so serious.

“Go,” his mother repeated, and this time Lionel left without further ado.

Mrs. Blackwell gave her shotgun a shake as if to remind Matt she meant business. “You still haven’t told me what you want with Neal.”

Matt couldn’t think of a tactful way to explain his business, so he came right out with it. “I need to talk to him about a stage robbery that took place last year.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Why?”

Partly because of the shotgun and partly because something about the woman brought out his protective instincts, Matt chose his next words with care. “I have reason to believe your husband has...certain information that would be helpful in my investigation.”

She discounted his explanation with a toss of her head. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. Least not till I talk to your husband.”

Her blue eyes narrowed. “If you think Neal had anything to do with that robbery, then you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“That may be true,” he said slowly. “But I still need to talk to him. It’s the only way I can wrap up my business and—“

“You’ll wrap up your business a whole lot quicker if you just leave now.”

Matt drew in his breath. If she were a man, things would be easier. For one thing, a man would have been disarmed by now. He would have seen to that. After letting his outlaw brother escape, Matt couldn’t afford another blunder. Not if he wanted to keep his job. Still, he wasn’t about to use physical force on a woman. Not unless he had to.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” He ever so slowly lowered his hands to his side. “I can’t leave. Not till I talk to your husband.”

“That’s gonna be a little hard to do,” she said with a wag of her shotgun. He arched an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“Well, mister, it’s like this. My husband, Neal, is dead.”

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AUTHOR INFO:

New York Times bestselling author Margaret Brownley has penned more than forty-five novels and novellas. She's a two-time Romance Writers of American RITA® finalist and has written for a TV soap. She is also a recipient of the Romantic Times Pioneer Award. She makes her home in Southern California. Visit her online at margaret-brownley.com.

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