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Books We Love
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Category:
Romance
Publisher: Books We Love
ISBN-10: 9780228609889
Type: Fiction
Pages: 296
Copyright: August 4, 2019
ISBN-13: 9780228608417
Price: $5.99 (eBook)
A chance meeting in historic Stone, South Dakota, sets Charlie and Jacy on an adventure across centuries.
Charlie Cannon’s love of history has led to a very successful writing career. Research for his next book has brought him to Stone, South Dakota, where he hopes to find a topic worthy of best seller status.
Jacy Douglas’s ancestors homesteaded near Stone almost one hundred forty years ago, but now a national conglomerate wants her Gram’s land to build a western theme amusement park and resort. Unless Jacy can find the original deed to the land, and determine whether a long-dead relative was an outlaw, the Circle B ranch will be lost.
A chance meeting between Charlie and Jacy starts sparks flying but although she finds him attractive, she doesn’t trust him, thinking he is one of the investors. When he convinces her he is a writer in search of a story, she takes him riding to share the story of Gram’s land and ancestors, but they are swept up in a dust storm and end up in the original town of Stone in 1877.
During the day, Charlie finds excitement living the history he has only written about. But the attraction he feels for Jacy is something that transcends the centuries and at night, they share a passion that helps them forget they may be lost in time forever.
Even as they find answers to Jacy’s quest and the mysteries of the past, how can they get that information, and themselves, back to the present?
Excerpt
Charlie headed for the library the day, hoping Miss Grinch wasn’t volunteering. This morning he had fortified himself with a hearty breakfast and coffee at a little next restaurant across the street from the hotel. It had red checkered tablecloths, real napkins, and old-fashioned cooking like hash browns and eggs, biscuits and gravy, and steak with American fries. Cream for his coffee had come in a small stoneware pitcher, not individual plastic containers. As a writer, Charlie noticed little things like that and incorporated them into his novels. Those little things made a story more authentic, and although he didn’t bog down his writing with details, he sprinkled them in here and there.
Still mentally noting details from breakfast, he turned and lifted a foot to the library steps, smacking into someone just leaving. He reflexively reached out and grabbed a soft and wiggly female. His day started to look up, until something pointy poked into the soft skin under his chin.
“It may only be a pen, but it can still put a hole in you,” hissed a voice in direct variance with the sight before him. Long brown hair lifted in the breeze to blow across her face, but her stormy blue eyes never wavered. She had a pert nose and generous mouth, even if it frowned at the moment. And her threat didn’t have him moving an inch.
“Hello, I’m Charlie.” He gave her his winning smile; the one they used on the back cover of book jackets. It didn’t work, as evidenced by the harder poke to his chin. With a sigh, he released her and stepped back. “Sorry, I was trying to be a gentleman and keep you from falling.”
She dropped her hand, but another minute passed in silence.
He tried again. “Hi, I’m Charlie.” This time he held out his hand.
She glanced at it then back to his face. Her frown was replaced with a look of confusion. She reached up and brushed the hair out of her face, something he wouldn’t have minded doing. It looked soft and probably smelled like some exotic flower.
He leaned in for a whiff.
She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry.” Her voice, low and incredibly sexy, made him think of a jazz singer in a dark, dangerous speakeasy from the twenties.
Not that he’d ever been in one, of course, but the writer in him instantly created an image. And this image continued staring at him, her head tilted to the side, her brows pulling down. Normally, he wouldn’t mind a woman giving him the once-over, but this particular woman’s glances were disconcerting.
“Do I know you?”
Ah, here we go; familiar ground. “I’m an historical western writer,” he replied with a grin. Always a great line he used because everyone wanted to know someone famous or be in a book.
She started to step around him. “I don’t read fiction.”
His mouth dropped open in surprise, so he pulled out the big guns. “New York Times and Amazon Best Seller lists.”
That stopped her. “Does that line work?” she asked in all seriousness.
Oh, he liked this girl. “Ninety percent of the time.” His grin widened.
“Then chalk this up to part of the ten percent.” She reached up, twisted her hair, and looped it over one shoulder.
He caught a scent of roses as she turned and walked away, leaving him standing on the library steps with his tongue hanging out. Damn, he wanted to do something with all that hair.
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