“I won’t say this is a great romp, it’s more like a fantastic gallop!”- Angel Payne
Desperate to escape a fiancé who plans to marry, then murder her for her wealth, Margaret Atwater runs West as a mail-order bride. Freedom seems to be within her grasp until her stage coach is robbed and the driver killed. Her life is spared, only she’s taken and sold to a brothel. Now she’s a high dollar ante for the brothel owner, and the only eyewitness to cold-blooded murder.
Colorado sheriff, Grant Masterson, is looking for a killer, not a woman. When a round of cards turns into a high-stakes game for the life and future of the lovely and innocent Miss Margaret Atwater, he must win. Grant isn’t prepared for the danger and chaos that haunts his prize. Outlaws are trying to kill her. The brothel owner wants her back. And a man from her past is willing to do anything to reclaim what he lost. Will bullets and brawn be enough to save her?
Here’s an excerpt from The Lady And The Lawman by Jennifer Zane:
She took another good look at the man who’d won her for the night. He was big, so tall the top of her head only reached his nose. Broad shoulders and a solid chest beneath his soft shirt reminded her of a tree trunk. She could see the glint of gold mixed with the brown of his hair as he removed his hat, tossing it onto the bedside table. His locks were longer than Eastern de rigueur, allowing it to curl naturally over his ears and at the nape of his neck. The length made Margaret itch to run her fingers through it, learn its texture, its softness. He wore a thick blue chambray shirt beneath his vest, tucked into snug pants that showed off slim hips and long, solid legs. Manly didn’t describe his presence, more like rugged. Virile.
Attraction was something new to her. Feelings of warmth and a strange longing coursed through her veins, pooled between her thighs making all her secret places swell and become wet. Squeezing her thighs together, she tried to dull the ache that throbbed there, but it didn’t work. In fact, it had an opposite effect. A shiver ran up her spine as the intense need for…something…built. But the attraction, this unrecognizable need, was tempered with a dash of innocence and a large portion of fear.
“Shall we move to the bed?” she asked, her throat dry. She couldn’t believe those explicit words came from her mouth. She was a teetotaler, but longed for a shot of whiskey to whet her thirst and loosen her tangled knot of nerves, to relax. She’d never been alone with a man in a room with the door closed before, let alone in the same bed.
Mortification swept through her at the memory of William taking her with the parlor door open, free for exposure to servants or anyone else who had been walking by. With the door shut, she would have been ruined just by the pretense, regardless of whether something inappropriate had happened or not. Now, though, ruination was the least of her concerns. She was already soiled, worthless in the eyes of men. Freedom was something else entirely. Somehow, she had to lure the sheriff, to entice, to separate him from his gun.
He walked her backward until she found herself up against the bed, calves pressed firmly into the wooden frame. One small push with his large hands against her bare shoulders had her seated on the lumpy mattress. She found herself looking directly at the front of his pants. Wonderful! There was the gun holstered around his slim waist. She had him just where she wanted him.
Grant had her just where he wanted her. She’d been looking at the front of his pants, and what wasn’t so hidden beneath, since they came upstairs. Now he was offering her an close up look. And she took it.
“Is this thing loaded?” Her voice was laced with anticipation as she pulled the gun from its holster.
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