Excerpt: Blanche’s pretty forehead puckered with a slight frown. “You don’t like Fox as much as he likes you, do you, Calliope? You’re not in love with him.” Calliope silently scolded herself for having let her countenance and words reveal her secret to Blanche. The truth was that she was not as sweet on Fox Montrose as he was on her. Yet there were secrets in her heart that could never be revealed to anyone—not even to Blanche, not even to Calliope’s own sisters. Therefore, she chose a counter maneuver with which to distract Blanche and said, “Oh, I adore Fox! I just think ...

Excerpt: “Grandma?” Cozy called as she closed the front door behind her. She inhaled a deep breath—bathing in the warm, inviting scent of banana nut bread baking in the oven. “Grandma? Are you in here?” “Cozy!” her grandma called in a loud whisper. “I’m in the kitchen. Hurry!” Cozy frowned—her heart leapt as worry consumed her for a moment. Yet, as she hurried to the kitchen to find her grandma kneeling at the window that faced the new neighbors yard, and peering out with a pair of binoculars, she exhaled a sigh of relief. “Grandma! You’re still spying on him?” ...

One of the most beloved Marcia Lynn McClure books: Excerpt… “It won’t change your life ...” he said, his voice low and rich like a warm drink laced with molasses. “And it sure won’t be the best kiss you’ll ever have,” he added. Her body erupted into goose bumps as his thumb traveled slowly over her lower lip. “But I’ll try to make it worth your time ...

Angelina Hunter was seriously minded, and it was a good thing. Her father’s ranch needed a woman who could endure the strenuous work of ranch life. Since her mother’s death, Angelina had been that woman. She had no time for frivolity; no time for a less severe side of life. Not when there was so much to be done—hired hands to feed, a widower father to care for and an often ridiculously lighted-hearted younger sister to worry about. No. Angelina Hunter had no time for the things most young women her age enjoyed. And yet, Angelina had not always been so hardened. There had been a time ...

Excerpt: Autumn gasped as she looked up to see the third cowboy, slumping in his saddle. Blood was streaming from a wound in his left leg and had begun to dry on his chaps. His shirt was soaked with blood at the left shoulder, and more dried blood was matting the hair on his forehead, eyebrows, and cheek. “My apologies, mister,” the cowboy mumbled. “Nothin’ to apologize for, son,” Ransom said. “But you better get on down here so Doc Sullivan can look you over.” “Yes, sir,” the cowboy said. Then, as he attempted to dismount, the full depth of his weakness from injury and no...