Thanks
to Cowboy Kisses for hosting me. I’m thrilled to talk about my latest release, Divine Gamble. This book has been a
labor of love. Back when I was writing for Kensington Books, I sent a proposal
for Divine Gamble to my editor. He
rejected it and asked for a story about a widow with a couple of kids and a
drifter. That’s how To Have and To Hold came
into being. But I loved Divine Gamble, so I dragged it out now and then
and worked on it, always laying it aside because something else demanded my
attention.
Finally,
my chance to finish the book came this year,
and I’m excited to say it is published and doing well.
~~^~~
Excerpt:
The air shifted, and a breeze fanned the back of her
neck. Someone had entered the saloon. Seeing Marshal Jake Harker look behind
her and frown, she stuffed the bank draft into her pocket. The hair on her neck
rose. She turned slowly, expecting to see death staring her in the eye.
A new stranger, built like a
freight wagon, stood just inside. Small eyes squinted out from under bushy
brows. Dirt and grime smeared his square, pugnacious jaw. He reminded her of
Quasimodo, minus the hunchback, but with an ugly scar angled from the corner of
his nose, and down across a fat-lipped, down-turned mouth, exposing a jagged
tooth. Her father had played Quasimodo once on a beer-soaked stage in Wichita,
frightening a five-year-old Maisy near to death. Did he seem familiar to her because
he reminded her of that unnerving experience?
The newcomer gave her a bold
once-over. He took what looked like a photograph out of his pocket, glanced at
it, at Maisy, and, wearing a grisly smile, started toward her. Something behind
Maisy caught his attention, and he
stopped. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Harker staring at the stranger.
The Quasimodo look alike cursed under his
breath, spun about and left.
Maisy laid one hand over her
heart and pressed the other to her lips as if that would keep her from falling
apart. The man had gone but might be
waiting for her when she left at quitting time. He must have seen Harker's
badge and figured now wasn't the time to grab her. Maisy's heart raced. She
closed her eyes and reminded herself of the other times she'd survived Gold's
henchmen. She would survive this time, too.
A sudden urge to leave town
assailed her. But the stage had left. The ore train from Telluride wouldn't
arrive until morning. Why had she ever
thought she'd be safe in a dead-end canyon like Pandora occupied? Yes, she had
friends here, but she couldn't risk endangering them.
She discreetly closed her bag
to hide the card box inside. "Snake eyes! I forgot my card box. Would you
keep an eye on things, Jake, while I go back to the boarding house for
it?"
"Let Delilah do it. I'd
better go with you. You never know what gun-happy drunk might—"
She forced a laugh. "I'm
a big girl, Marshal. I've been walking
dark streets, storm or no storm, all by myself for a long time now, and I have
my Deringer in my reticule. I don't need anyone holding my hand. Besides,
Delilah's busy."
"Still, I think..."
"Don't be silly. I'll
take Hock. He won't let anything happen to me."
As if comprehending her
words, the dog rose and swiped a wet
tongue over the back of her clenched hand.
"All right." Harker
bent to pet the dog. "I think he'll make you a good guard dog. He knows
you saved him. Get back here soon, though."
"I only need ten
minutes, I promise. I'll take the back way,
and no one will even see me." Slinging her cloak around her shoulders, she
took up the bag and headed for the rear door of the saloon, the dog at her
heels. The rest of her faro gear would
have to remain here. Replacing it all would be expensive, but, if she took it,
Harker would know she didn't plan to return and demand to know why.
Every instinct screamed for
her to leave Pandora now. But she had
to hang onto her wits, had to make plans. One choice would mean a steep and
dangerous trek over a trail that zigzagged up the cliff and over the mountain.
No, the train remained her best bet. She could only hope she'd be safe in her
room until departure time. At least she had her reticule, the bank draft Harker
had given her, and her Derringer. She'd managed before; she could do it again.
She had to.
~~^~~
An avid reader, Charlene Raddon never
planned to be a writer. A vivid dream changed that. She dragged out a portable
typewriter and began to put her dream on paper. Originally published by
Kensington Books, Charlene is now an Indie author. All her books have received
high accolades, contest wins, and awards.
When not writing, she designs historical book covers at her site, http://silversagebookcovers.com where she
specializes in westerns.
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