Jill Hughey http://www.jillhughey.com Mon, 18 Jul 2016 14:16:35 +0000 en hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=4.2.32 Written in the Cards on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/written-in-cards-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/written-in-cards-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 21 Jun 2014 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/written-in-the-cards-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week I welcome a guest author to share a first meeting excerpt. Today Lauren Linwood brings us her western historical romance, Written in the Cards. Lauren is a former history teacher who sprinkles all kinds of historical tidbits and trivia into historical romances.

SETUP OF SCENE:  Ben and Maggie saw each other from a distance in the Abilene stockyards as he brought in a herd of cattle from Texas.

EXCERPT:

Ben stepped up on the wooden planks that ran along the outside of the saloon and stopped. Standing next to the swinging doors was the copper-haired beauty from earlier. She spoke to a cowboy and then waved him off, sending him into the bar with a laugh. 
Without thinking, he rushed over to her. “What on earth are you doing standing in front of a saloon? Do you realize how rough and rowdy –”
“Oh, there you are.” Her hazel eyes twinkled, as she looked at him from head to toe. “My, you certainly clean up well.”
Ben stood dumbfounded at the beautiful stranger assessing him like a buyer would a Longhorn steer.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You’d left the stockyards by the time I headed back your way. I checked the bathhouse, but you hadn’t been there yet. I went to the biggest mercantile, but they said I’d just missed you.”
She shook her head. “I figured sooner or later you’d make your way to this street, so I thought I’d simply wait for you to turn up.”
She smiled at him as if waiting for a strange man in front of a cow-town bar was the most natural thing on earth for a pretty woman to do.
“You are some crazy lady,” he blurted out.
The woman chuckled, deep and throaty. Ben swallowed at the way the sound made him tingle. “You have no idea, sir. My aunt Harriet thinks I went off the rails years ago. But that’s another story. I’m here to hear yours.”
He frowned. “Beg pardon?”
“Oh, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I? Usually I display better manners.”
She held out a gloved hand to him. “I’m Maggie Rutherford, formerly from New York City. And you just came off the cattle drive. The Chisholm Trail, I presume?”
He nodded, unsure of where their conversation headed.
“Perfect!” she declared. “You are exactly the man I’d like to interview.”
“Interview?” He viewed her with suspicion. “Why me?”
She laid a hand on his sleeve. Electricity crackled between them. She pulled her hand away, a puzzled look on her face. 
“I, sir, am a dime novelist. Have you read any Lud Madison books?”
“Yes,” he said, still wondering about the brief contact between them. “Madison’s actually my favorite of the dime novel authors.”
Her hazel eyes sparkled. “You are talking to Lud Madison in the flesh. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
Ben sputtered his name. This heavenly creature wrote dime novels?
Maggie smiled, and his heart did a flip-flop. “I see I’ve given you a bit of a start. It’s true, though. I am Lud Madison. I simply write under a pen name because there are those who deem it unlikely that a woman could write such adventurous tales of the West. I not only write my novels, but I illustrate them.” Pride was evident in her voice. 
“How can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
“I’m doing research for my next novel, and I need to talk with someone who’s familiar with cattle drives. You caught my eye, Mr. Morgan. I feel you have a story to tell, and I’d love to incorporate some of it into my next book. I am happy to pay you for your time.”
Ben had no intention of sharing any of his life’s story with Maggie Rutherford, no matter how interesting the fiery redhead seemed. 
“I’m sorry, ma’am –”
“Please, call me Maggie.” 
“What I mean to say is –”
“You don’t have to tell me, Mr. Morgan. I’ve waylaid you from your mission. You intended to have a drink and unwind after long weeks on the trail. Well, I know with your fancy new clothes and those rather expensive boots, plus the bath and haircut, you probably have very little of your trail pay left.”
She turned and started to push open one of the swinging doors.
He grabbed her elbow, ignoring the heat in the contact. “You can’t go in there! It’s not respectable.”
Maggie’s brows rose. “You need a bottle of whiskey, sir, something you sorely can’t afford at this point. I aim to remedy that situation. We’ll sit. You’ll have your drinks. I’ll ask you some questions about being a cowboy on a cattle drive, and I’ll even pay for a night’s rest at a decent hotel.”
She tugged and pulled away from him, entering the bar full steam ahead.
A bemused Ben followed her inside. Under his breath, he muttered, “The little spitfire sure has gumption.”
END OF EXCERPT
How intriguing to have a writer as the heroine! If you want to visit more with Lauren or find Written in the Cards, try these links. 
Website       Facebook          Twitter          Blog          Amazon Author Page

 Lauren and I welcome any questions or comments. Please come back every Saturday for a new first meeting excerpt.

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/written-in-cards-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 4 Silver Sweethearts on First Sight Saturday #excerpt #historicalromance #firstsight http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/silver-sweethearts-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/silver-sweethearts-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 07 Jun 2014 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/silver-sweethearts-on-first-sight-saturday-excerpt-historicalromance-firstsight.html Each week a guest author shares a first meeting excerpt. Today I welcome Jackie Leigh Allen with her historical romance, Silver Sweethearts. Jackie enjoys traveling, and is always planning her next trip.

EXCERPT

Smoothing her blue traveling dress, Susan Marie Van Pelt picked up her carpetbag and stepped off the stage. Soon she’d see her beloved Papa. After ten years of reading letters, she’d hear him tell his wonderful stories.
Boldly, she met the gaze of the man with the watch, the most reputable looking man in the lot facing her. “Could you tell me the whereabouts of Joachim Van Pelt? He has a big mine here, the Silver Skates.”
Timer rubbed his jaw. “You’d better talk to Jed. He’s over to Lily’s. I’ll take ya.” He held his arm out stiffly in a parody of a city gentleman.
Timer walked her down the boardwalk lining the single block of the town, past the office of Henry Fox, Attorney at Law, and the tiny general store. At a break in the hitching rail that lined the street, he stepped off the walk and proceeded across the dirt street. Little puffs of dust rose with every footstep. He opened a door in a two-story building under a sign reading, LILY’S.
Papa had written about the hotel started by a woman named Lily. Susan admired a woman who took charge of her own life. She planned to do the same.
“In you go.” Timer waited politely for her to enter.
A redheaded boy and a gangly brown-haired youth appeared. “Ma’s out back with Jed,” said the older boy. He pointed toward the rear of the building.
“Adam, you and Johnny fetch the young lady’s bag from the saloon.” Timer’s request eased one of Susan’s worries.
Susan started toward the kitchen. 
“Better wait for Lily and Jed to come in here,” Timer said as he followed the two boys out the door.
Wait? Not one second longer.
She stepped out the back door and directly in front of her, a big red-haired woman enveloped in a white apron leaned over a tub.
“Lily?” Susan queried.
The woman turned toward her with a wet sponge in her hand that threatened to drip onto Susan’s skirt until she stepped back into the kitchen. 
“I’m Lily Maguire,” the woman said. She looked at Susan with wide blue eyes. “Who’re you?”
“Susan Van Pelt. I understand you knew my papa.”
Lily dropped the sponge behind her. “I surely did know your papa. He was a wonderful man.” 
“I’d like to speak with you about Papa and also with his partner. Could you direct me to Mr. Jedediah Miller?”
Lily’s body shook. Her face got red. A laugh emerged. “Sorry to appear unfeelin’, but Digger would have liked the humor.” She stepped to one side revealing the broad back of a large man with golden-brown, shoulder-length hair. 
The very large, very naked man sat in a tin tub with water up to his waist.
Frozen in place, Susan didn’t know any manners for this situation.
“Meet Jed Miller.” Lily whacked the man on the back. “Turn around and say hello to the lady.”
The man turned, the muscles in his shoulders and arms tense. Water dripped from his mustache and beard to run in rivulets through the curly hair plastered against his chest. 
Susan jerked her gaze to his. His golden eyes blazed at her, thawing her chill. With his long tawny hair and topaz eyes, he looked like a wet lion. She’d seen one in the circus behind bars, but this one was free. She quivered inside.
Determined not to let the man see her trepidation, Susan stepped forward and extended her gloved hand. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Miller.”
Lily laughed. “I see you can take care of yourself. I’ll put the kettle on.” She went into the kitchen.
#   #   #
Jed watched the little lady step forward stiff as a cactus and about as friendly. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to join Papa. To take care of him.” She stared at him with eyes as blue as the clear Nevada sky. Her pale blonde hair gleamed like silver in the afternoon sun. 
Shaking his head to rid it of the fanciful idea, he sprayed her with his bath water.
Her gaze went down his chest, and her cheeks flushed pink as dawn. 
“If you’d turn your back, I’ll get some clothes on.” 
After she did, Jed stood, grabbed a length of toweling from a stool by the tub and wrapped it around him. Digger was dead. How could she take care of him?
“I took care of your pa.” Jed had done his best, but hadn’t been able to save Digger.
“I wish I’d gotten to see him before he died.” She sounded ready to cry. Digger would have soothed her with flowery words, but Jed didn’t know how.
Pulling on his drawers, he puzzled over her presence. His wire had told her to stay in the East and he’d send her share of the silver at summer’s end.
“Are you decently covered?” Her voice quavered.
“Almost.” He stepped into his denim pants. “There.” He attacked his hair and beard with the toweling as she turned.
Her blue eyes widened as her gaze fastened on his chest. “You aren’t covered,” she accused.
“Hell, I’m decent.”
“There is no need to swear at me.” She tilted that Van Pelt chin at him just like Digger used to when he dug in his stubborn heels. 
Damn. She was a complication he didn’t need.

END OF EXCERPT
I love the description of the hero as a lion, and the heroine finding her lion at his bath.
You can find Silver Sweetheart here http://tinyurl.com/oojrp9z
 Jackie invites you to visit her at JackieLeighAllen.com

We welcome comments and questions. I hope you’ll come back each Saturday for a new first meeting excerpt on First Sight Saturday.


]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/06/silver-sweethearts-on-first-sight.html/feed 4 Scoundrel for Hire on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/scoundrel-for-hire-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/scoundrel-for-hire-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 26 Apr 2014 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/scoundrel-for-hire-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week I welcome a guest author to share a first meeting excerpt. Today I’m joined by fellow Love Historicals author Adrienne deWolfe with her historical western romance, Scoundrel for Hire, which Adrienne describes as a drawing room comedy. Scoundrel for Hire is book 1 in the Velvet Lies series.

I asked Adrienne for one fun fact, and she gave me five about herself and her book.

1) Rafe is Adrienne’s first rogue hero – and one of her funniest.  
2) Adrienne’s all-time favorite historical novel is THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL. In fact, she spoofed Percy Blakeney from PIMPERNEL when she created Rafe’s alter-ego, “Lord Chumley.” 
3) Adrienne’s favorite novel line from SCOUNDREL:  “Any man that full of himself has got to be constipated.” ~ Rafe Jones 
4) Adrienne set out to write a farce, so she gave Rafe an orphaned baby otter as a pet. The otter’s mother never got around to teaching her how to swim. So guess who has to do it – in the heroine’s bathtub?  
5) Adrienne is donating a portion of her royalties from SCOUNDREL and the rest of the Velvet Lies Series to urban reforestation efforts. 
SETUP OF SCENE:
Raphael Jones is a Kentucky-born scoundrel, who has never played by the rules. When Colorado mining heiress, Silver Nichols, hires him to stop her precious daddy from marrying a golddigger, Rafe sets out to seduce Silver and win her fortune.  But beneath Silver’s cool veneer, Rafe encounters a sweet vulnerability and an aching secret that threatens to send his whole world up in smoke. Now the wily scoundrel must choose: walk away or wager the one thing he can’t afford to lose—his heart.
EXCERPT
A gentle “Eh-hem” and the captivating whiff of lavender distracted Rafe from his worries about Fred’s mining hoax. To his surprise, he found Silver Nichols standing companionably by his side. The corner of her mouth curved in a half-smile. 
“I suppose,” she murmured, “the gentleman with the, er, diamonds is a friend of yours?” 
The velvety timbre of her voice claimed his attention more thoroughly than a clap of thunder. He hadn’t expected a mining heiress to sound like she looked: rich. Sinfully rich. He was entertaining a delicious vision of hot fudge and cherries, when the full implication of her words slammed into his brain. 
“I beg your pardon?” 
“The man in the top hat. I daresay he’s your accomplice?” 
Somehow, Rafe managed not to choke on his tongue. “My dear young woman, I fail to understand—” 
“I rather doubt that,” she cut in smoothly. “You look much too intelligent. Canny, in fact. However, I am willing to believe that you are naive about the swift justice that mining juries dole out.” She turned once more to watch Fred’s con, playing out so flawlessly before them. “So let me give you a tip. The geologist you’re impersonating is about two-thirds your height, twice your weight, and his pate is just shy of bald.” 
Rafe entertained a vision of throttling Fred, who had assured him that Bartholomew Markham, the renowned Pennsylvania geologist, hadn’t set foot in a western mining town since the war. 
However, Rafe hadn’t spent the last fifteen years as a professional flimflam artist to let some cheeky millionaire’s daughter get the upper hand now. He eyed Silver with a nerve that he’d honed at fourteen, bluffing his way through Shakespeare’s Juliet, while all-male audiences had pelted him with tomatoes. 
“Good heavens.” He chuckled. “Uncle Bartie and I look nothing alike. Now I’m beginning to understand your confusion, Miss Nichols.” 
He could feel her appraising gaze poring over him with the same attention that a bookkeeper might use on accounts. He couldn’t help but lament the irony. Here he was, standing thigh to thigh with an unmarried heiress, and he was insisting that he was some middle-aged greenhorn with a paunch! 
“So you claim to be Mr. Markham’s nephew,” she said slowly, an unmistakable lilt in her voice. “You must be from Philadelphia, then.” 
“The Cradle of Liberty itself.” 
“How delightful,” she drawled. “I’m from Philadelphia, too.” 
“Yes, well, I, er, was merely born there,” he recovered as gracefully as he could. Damn her anyway. Was she really from Philadelphia? 
Unable to take that chance, he hastened to add, “I spent most of my youth in…” Hesitating, he cast her a sideways glance. Where would a lawless sport be safe from female busy bodies? “…Abilene. And later, in Dodge City.” 
“Dodge City? Oh my.” Her eyes twinkled like twin stars as they laughed up at him. “A geologist in a cowtown. I can just imagine what you must have dug up.” 
He glowered at her. 
“So tell me Mr. Kansas geologist,” she purred, “in what sort of rock formation might one find bituminous coal?” 
Their eyes locked. 
Rafe’s heart sank. He didn’t have the vaguest idea.
END OF EXCERPT
You can find Adrienne’s books at these places

You can find Adrienne at these places:
Twitter (Novel Writing Tips & News) http://twitter.com/AdriennedeWolfe 
Twitter (Gratitude & Positive Thinking) http://Twitter.com/SolDawn 
Twitter (Fantasy Fiction) http://Twitter.com/SolMage 
Adrienne and I welcome any  questions and comments. Come back each Saturday for a new first meeting excerpt from a visiting author.
]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/scoundrel-for-hire-on-first-sight.html/feed 8 An Irresistible Temptation on First Sight Saturday #excerpt #firstmeeting http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/an-irresistible-temptation-on-first.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/an-irresistible-temptation-on-first.html#comments Sat, 05 Apr 2014 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/an-irresistible-temptation-on-first-sight-saturday-excerpt-firstmeeting.html Each Saturday, a guest author entertains us here with a first meeting scene – that moment when the sparks start to fly and anything is possible. Today, I welcome fellow Love Historical’s author Sydney Jane Baily who claims to be slightly psychic, at least where color is concerned. This is her fun fact: “If you hold a handful of items of different colors, say crayons or ribbons, and you choose one and concentrate hard on that one color, I can see it (or guess it) with my eyes closed with a fairly high rate of success. Psychic super-heroine? Maybe, but it’s a rather useless super-power in my humble opinion! Unless I am called on to defuse a bomb and need someone to telepathically tell me which color wire to cut.”

Now, let’s move on to some red sparks with an excerpt from Sydney’s Americana romance An Irresistible Temptation.

SETUP OF THE SCENE: In An Irresistible Temptation, heartbroken Sophie Malloy has just disembarked a train from Boston to Spring City, CO. Expecting to be met by her sister-in-law’s friends, she finds herself alone in a small and dusty western town. Not one to sit around waiting, she drags her trunk while carrying her carpet bag along the town’s main thoroughfare.
EXCERPT
“Main Street” stated the sign, as she approached the first block of buildings and she paused. It had to be a joke as she saw no other streets at all. But on the horizon were mountains, grand, even awe-inspiring. She shivered despite the heat of the day and the difficult task at hand. She really was on the edge of nowhere.
All the buildings looked similar, with flat fronts and squared off tops, though she could see behind the frontage that the roofs were slanted as any in the east. Some had a second story, with two windows over two, but that was the highest she saw. No wonder her sister-in-law had walked Boston’s streets staring up at the buildings for months after she’d arrived. 
Sophie had no idea a town could still look so . . . so primitive in this day and age. She saw no brick at all, only wood, even the sidewalks were wood, raised up a step from street level. 
Along the sidewalk was the occasional barrel, a trough, or a hitching post. Wagons were parked and horses pawed at the road that bisected the town before stretching, it seemed, all the way to the mountains in the distance. And, of course, there were people—not a lot, but some sitting on benches in front of stores, some standing in doorways. And every one of them turned to look at Sophie.  
She knew what she needed to find, either Fuller’s Hotel and Restaurant or Doc Cuthins’ surgery. She had to locate the people whom Charlotte considered friends and whom Sophie could ask for help. She dragged her trunk a few more yards, wishing she could set it down and walk briskly along unhampered, but she feared everything she’d brought would disappear in the blink of an eye. 
With almost all the strength gone in her arms, she was attempting to heave the trunk up onto the sidewalk, perching one end on the wooden planks, when someone collided with her from the rear.
“Oomph,” she expelled all the air from her lungs as her stomach caught on the tilted edge of her trunk, then she slid slowly down the length of it back onto the dirt road, head and hands first. For a dreadful moment, she sprawled there, knowing her dress was up at her waist and her drawers, lavender-colored and lacy, were on view. 
“Damn,” she heard before she could right herself. The man’s sentiment echoed what was in her head, though she was too much of a lady to voice it. And then, “Oh, Jesus, ma’am” as strong arms lifted her off the ground. 
Sophie was not one to take offense, though she was getting sorely tired. Anything she was about to say, however, died on her lips at the spectacle of the man who now had hold of her. 
To compose herself, she looked down to see what had happened to her things—her carpet bag was upended in the street—then she looked back to the man’s mud-splattered boots, up his worn, fitting blue jeans, and to what had once been a pale blue shirt now covered in grime. 
Her gaze traveled higher to his equally grubby but ridiculously handsome face that had stopped her cold for a moment, with his burnished brown eyes, dark eye lashes, and inviting mouth that curved as though it tended to smile often. 
He tipped his black brim to her, with a quick tap of his hand.
“Ma’am,” he said and gave her a brief smile that showed a dimple in his right cheek, his teeth looking all the whiter for appearing in the midst of his dirty face. Dirty and devastatingly attractive—a combination she hadn’t experienced before.
He was tall, clearly, for she had to look up to him, despite her own uncommon height, at least for a woman. And she realized he was still holding her arm with one hand, a strong capable hand. She felt his warmth right through the fabric of her dress and her mantle. 
Letting herself feel his fingers gripping her for a moment more, she then shook him off by taking one step back.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Sophie looked at her hands, stretching them in front of her and wriggling her fingers. Everything seemed fine except for her white gloves being torn and filthy. 
“I’m fine,” she said at last, seeing as he was watching her careful examination. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Me neither,” he offered. “I was talking to Dan and walking out of Drew’s.” He gestured to the feed store. A man standing in the doorway, wearing a heavy apron, chuckled. 
“Yup, he was,” Dan confirmed. “Riley, don’t you know better than to leave a store ass first? Unless you’re trying to drum up future business for yourself.”
Riley laughed and looked back at Sophie, who tamped down the inappropriate notion that he had a very sweet, even sexy laugh and that his eyes sparkled wickedly when he was amused.
“Most women would have given me a tongue lashing for knocking them into the street and ruining their gloves.” 
“As long as you don’t make a habit of it,” she said, glad that she hadn’t been in Boston, where she would have been run over by a brougham within seconds. 
“I’ll try not to.” He treated her to a broad grin—a very sensual grin, too, Sophie mused. She must be very tired and lonely to keep having these incorrigible thoughts. 
“Can I make it up to you?” he asked. 
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted up her traveling trunk as though it weighed nothing and deposited it on the sidewalk in front of the feed store. 
      She retrieved her carpet bag from the street and stepped up beside him.
END OF EXCERPT
I’m guessing that Riley will make it up to Sophie in more ways than one!
An Irresistible Temptation along with Sydney’s other books are at http://www.amazon.com/Sydney-Jane-Baily/e/B009LAIOM6/
Sydney and I both welcome your questions and comments. Make sure to drop by every Saturday for a new excerpt from a visiting author!
]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/04/an-irresistible-temptation-on-first.html/feed 8 Redeemed by a Rebel on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/03/redeemed-by-rebel-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/03/redeemed-by-rebel-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 01 Mar 2014 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/03/redeemed-by-a-rebel-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week a new guest author to share an excerpt of a first meeting. Today on First Sight Saturday, Cynthia Woolf brings us the piece of her historical western romance Redeemed by a Rebel. Cynthia started writing her Destiny in Deadwood series after enjoying the HBO series, “Deadwood,” though she assures me she doesn’t use HBO language in her books!

EXCERPT

She went back to looking at the new arrivals and supposed she ought to make their acquaintance. Meeting them was the right and proper thing to do and her Grandma Bess would want her to do it. Besides, they’d see her nearly every day riding by on her way to and from Deadwood to fetch Billy.
Pushing away from the tree she was hiding behind, Becky worked her way down the path to her and Billy’s claim. Then she saddled Buster, her mule, and started toward Deadwood. She needed to go to Sutter’s and pick up supplies anyway.
Becky admired Lily Sutter. She hadn’t closed down for mourning when her brother died. Said he was never home anyway, since he’d gotten gold fever, and she had a daughter to provide for.
That was the other thing about Lily. She had a daughter out of wedlock and wasn’t ashamed of it. She and her brother could have lied about it but she’d said Gemma was the best thing that ever happened to her and she’d never let her think that Lily was ashamed of her.
They held the funeral after regular closing time and there was absolutely no disruption of the normal course of things. She treated her brother’s death like it was just another day and Becky supposed it was.
She rode into the newcomer’s camp and was immediately greeted by the boy. He had dark brown hair that was a little overly long under his black Stetson. His clothes, a little baggy, were just like hers.
“Hello. Who are you?” he asked eagerly
“Hi there. I’m Becky Finnegan. My pa and I have the claim next to yours,” she pointed back the way she’d come.
As Becky slid from Buster, the men came over to greet her, followed by the little black haired girl.
“I’m David Anderson and that’s my pa there with my sister.”
Becky looked over at the tall man striding quickly toward her, the little girl running in his wake. The other two men followed at an easier pace.
“Hello, I’m Liam Anderson,” he said, extending his hand toward her. He was a looker. They all were. And they were all tall. She was tall, for a girl, but Liam was easily six foot four, a good eight inches taller than her, with brown hair and gray eyes that were old, older than the rest of him. They told her he’d been through a lot. But his sharp features stretched into a friendly smile.
“Becky Finnegan,” she gave him a firm handshake.
“Miss Finnegan, let me introduce my family. You’ve already met my son, David. This is my daughter, Hannah and my brothers, Zachariah and Jacob.”
The dark haired one stepped forward. “Zach. No one except Liam uses Zachariah.”
She nodded and accepted his outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, Zach.”   This one would have all the women in camp swooning with his coal black hair and piercing blue eyes. The little girl looked just like him. If she hadn’t been told otherwise she would have though him the girls father.
“And this is Jacob,” said Liam, introducing the last brother. He was also tall, about six feet she guessed, with dark blond hair and brown eyes that twinkled with laughter. He had a strong, square jaw and friendly smile.
“Jake,” he said, eyeing his brother as he shook her hand, “not Jacob.”
His voice, deep as Grandma Bess’s well, washed over her. This man was dangerous to her peace of mind.
“Becky,” she said, shaking his hand. She went still. When they touched, she filled with heat. Not just the warmth from his hand, but one that went much deeper. Warmth that seemed to touch her soul.
Her green eyed gaze flew to his and saw that he was as affected as she was. She snatched her hand from his grasp, looked down and rubbed it. She didn’t know what she expected to see. Maybe that her fingers and palm were on fire because they sure burned.
“Becky,” he repeated, his voice like satin on her jangled nerves.

END OF EXCERPT

Here are some links where you can find Redeemed by a Rebel.


Barnes & Noble – http://tinyurl.com/klf5546

If you’d like to keep in touch with Cynthia, stop by her website.

Website –  www.cynthiawoolf.com


Cynthia and I welcome any questions or comments.  Don’t forget to stop by for a new author each week on First Sight Saturday.
]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/03/redeemed-by-rebel-on-first-sight.html/feed 11 Eve’s Amulet on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/10/eves-amulet-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/10/eves-amulet-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 12 Oct 2013 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/10/eves-amulet-on-first-sight-saturday.html Every week I feature a guest author with a first meeting excerpt. Today I welcome Carole Avila, who has been an intuitive life coach for 35 years who constantly affirms that she is an international financially successful bestselling author.

Carole is here to share an excerpt from her August release Eve’s Amulet: Book 1 – A Time Travel Western Romance Adventure.

Setup of the scene:  Mandy Ruhe has been having weird dreams about cowboys, soldiers, and gunfights. The resulting lack of sleep, a mediocre life, and a constant brutal headache are sure signs that she needs to make some changes. She discovers an ancient amulet and goes unconscious, not knowing she has been swept back in time to Texas, 1845, or that she has been gun-butted on the back of her head by a vicious soldier. Mandy wakes up in the arms of a man she has only seen glimpses of in her dreams.
First meeting excerpt (1000 words or less, rated PG)
          A colossal headache jackhammered at my skull. Pain ransacked every nerve ending, worse than the migraine I’d suffered before my court appearance. Motion sickness blossomed as my head swayed back and forth against my will. A struggle went into flitting open my sticky lashes.
The fuzzy image of a moustached man came into view, and his tears dripped onto my face. Long brown hair dangled past his wide shoulders and stuck in the salty liquid on my cheeks. Decorative gold buttons shimmered on the front of his dark blue jacket.
Yankee Jesus rocked me in his arms, and I wanted to throw up.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. His deep voice sounded like a lullaby, pulling some of my attention away from the pain and the need to vomit. “Carmena, come back to me.”
It was the wrong name, but he said it like a soothing hot drink on a chilly day. I felt safe in his presence, inexplicably secure in an embrace so suffocating that it threatened to choke the air from my lungs.
My lashes fluttered all the way open. It felt like the man with the knockout looks wasn’t holding me for the first time, but I couldn’t recall seeing eyes bluer than the waters on a Caribbean postcard.
“Carmena!” His weak smile tried to nudge past his anguish. “Darling, stay with me!”
“Dude, why wouldn’t I?” The small and scratchy voice didn’t sound like my own, but apparently he didn’t care.
His long fingers swiped strands of tacky hair out of my face. “Forever more, I shall see to your every happiness, my love.”
Deeply comforted, I gave him a trifling smile as I closed my eyes and lapsed into sleep.
END OF EXCERPT
You can find Eve’s Amulet at the following places.

And visit more with Carole at her website.

Thank you for being here today, Carole. We welcome any reader comments, and hope you will come back next week for another first meeting excerpt!

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/10/eves-amulet-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 0 The Treasure of Como Bluff on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/07/the-treasure-of-como-bluff-on-first.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/07/the-treasure-of-como-bluff-on-first.html#comments Sat, 13 Jul 2013 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/07/the-treasure-of-como-bluff-on-first-sight-saturday.html Today I welcome Alison Henderson who shares a first meeting scene from her western historical romance The Treasure of Como Bluff.

EXCERPT

Como Bluff, Wyoming
July 1879
   Kaboom! The ground shook, and Caroline Hubbard stumbled to regain her balance. Ears ringing from the blast, she glanced across the rocky, barren landscape and spotted a plume of gray dust rising against the blazing azure sky. Horseapples! If those scalawags on the next ridge persisted in making a mockery of science with their dynamite, she’d have to work faster.
    She skittered down the makeshift path that crisscrossed the face of the bluff, knocking loose a shower of pebbles in her wake. As she neared the valley floor, she noticed a dark form slouched in a patch of scruffy weeds several yards away. Had one of those bone thieves come to spy on her?
     She marched toward the figure, hands balled into fists. “You’d better get away from here,” she shouted. “This is my claim, and you know it.”
     The form didn’t respond or move. As she approached, she made out a jumble of arms and legs. Bile rose in her throat. It was a man all right, and he appeared to be dead.
     “Hey, mister,” she called. Still no movement, so she ventured closer. A shock of smooth, dark hair fell across his face obscuring his features, but he wore good quality clothes, too good for a railway worker. What was a well-dressed man doing out here without a horse? The dirt around him was disturbed by dozens of hoof prints. A bloody rock and the mutilated body of a rattlesnake nearby told the tale.
     She knelt and brushed the man’s hair aside. It slid through her fingers like heavy silk, revealing a deeply tanned face with rugged features and a square jaw with a cleft chin. There was no sign of death’s pallor. Caroline rested her hand against his chest to check for signs of respiration but felt no movement. Her stomach rolled uneasily. She was used to dealing with the remains of creatures that had been dead for millennia. She’d never faced a fresh body before.
     She wished she’d seen him in life, bursting with vitality. His body was strong and well made, and he had such beautiful hair, coffee brown with faint red highlights, as if he’d spent a great deal of time in the sun. Unable to resist one last touch, she brushed it back again, revealing an egg-sized lump on his forehead with a jagged cut oozing blood. That must have been the result of the blow that killed him.
     Wait a minute. Dead bodies don’t bleed.
     Caroline pressed her fingers to the side of his neck and felt a pulse, faint and thready but definitely there. Her heart skipped a beat. The man was alive. He must have been knocked unconscious by the blow to his head. At least she could postpone worrying about what to do with his body and concentrate on keeping him alive.
     She jumped up, ran to her mule, and untied his tether. The travois she used for transporting fossil specimens lay on the ground. She attached the poles to the strips of leather hanging from her saddle and gave a tug on the mule’s reins.
     A summer of hard physical labor had built her strength, but moving the injured stranger wasn’t easy. She maneuvered him onto a blanket with great care and dragged it to the travois, where she secured him with leather straps as if he were a Diplodocus femur.
     An hour later they reached the tiny, ramshackle cabin she’d rented from the railroad, and twenty minutes after that, the man lay stretched on the rough plank floor of the main room, his head resting on a half-empty sack of flour. She supposed she should attempt to ascertain the extent of his injuries. The bump on his head was obvious, but he might have other injuries hidden beneath his fancy clothes.
     First came the question of how to remove the knee-length black coat that fit his frame like a custom made glove. Fearful of aggravating his injuries, she retrieved a pair of shears and cut the garment from his arms and shoulders. Underneath, his shirt was wrinkled and none too white, but she was pleased to see it free of blood stains. However, there remained the issue of bone, muscle, or internal injuries, and the only way to determine those was a thorough physical examination.
     Caroline hesitated as she considered the form sprawled on her floor. Although she had no medical training, she was well versed in anatomy, particularly skeletal anatomy. If only he were an ancient sauropod…
     But he wasn’t. He was a man, and if she intended to examine him, she needed to remove more of his clothes. As she unbuttoned his shirt, she struggled to ignore the hard warmth of his chest beneath her fingers. Nothing more than a healthy set of pectoral muscles. But they were more than healthy; they were magnificent. Firm, broad, and sculpted. Much like the marble torsos of Greek and Roman athletes she’d studied in art class in college.
     She slid her hands up and down his arms checking for displacement of the bones or joints. Happily, they felt solid and straight without fracture or dislocation. Even relaxed, his muscles were long and hard and spoke of work that belied his expensive clothing. The thickened skin on his hands bore additional witness to a life of labor.
     She finished her inspection, and satisfied he had suffered no major injuries to the upper body, Caroline scooted to his feet and considered the prospect of removing his boots. Fifteen minutes of wiggling and yanking later, she had stripped him to his long johns and heavy wool socks. Damp hair clung to her forehead, and she blew it away with a puff. Undressing a man was hot, sweaty work.
     Once she was satisfied he had no major broken bones and his knees and ankles articulated properly, she turned her attention to his forehead where blood still oozed from the gash in the center of the purplish lump. It was ugly, but growing up with a brother, she’d seen worse. Once she washed it, she would be able to tell whether it needed stitches or if a bandage would suffice.
     After filling the pitcher from the water barrel and pouring some into the bowl, she blotted the wound with a soft, damp cloth. Once the blood and dirt were gone, a jagged cut remained, and she had her answer. It definitely needed stitches.
     She’d never stitched human flesh before, but she’d watched their housekeeper sew up Arthur’s knee once. He’d screamed like a scalded cat. Thank goodness this man was out cold; she lacked Mrs. O’Rourke’s strength of arm and will. She fetched her sewing kit, threaded a needle with strong, black thread, took a deep breath, and swallowed hard.
     You can do this. It’s just like hemming a tea towel.
     Caroline winced when the needle pierced his skin, but he remained quiet and still. Only three stitches to go. When she stabbed him a second time, his eyes remained closed, but a soft moan escaped his lips. Only two stitches left. She bit her lip and stuck the needle in. His body twitched, and he groaned again.
     She yanked the thread taut. Hurry. Just one more stitch.
     She plunged the needle through his flesh and tightened the thread in one swift pull. She was just about to tie it off when his head moved, jerking the needle from her fingers. His eyes opened, and she found herself staring into a pair of deeply confused, midnight blue eyes.
     “Lucinda?”
     Horseapples!
END OF EXCERPT

You can find The Treasure of Como Bluff at Amazon.

If you’d like to follow Alison, here are some links where you can find her.
Twitter: @alsnhendersn
Thank you for visiting today!

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/07/the-treasure-of-como-bluff-on-first.html/feed 6 Book Lover’s Buffet! http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/book-lovers-buffet.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/book-lovers-buffet.html#comments Wed, 01 May 2013 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/book-lovers-buffet.html

 Introducing the Book Lovers’ Buffet. Load up, you won’t gain a pound!

The Buffet’s “Bouquet of Books” sale will be open May 1-3. More than 175 ebooks, all reduced in price to just 99 cents, including the second book in my series, Redeemed, on sale for the FIRST TIME EVER. 
Save in categories such as Young Adult, Contemporary, Paranormal, Suspense, Erotic Romance, Historical and more! PLUS, visit the website to win gift cards to your choice of online retailers. $400 in gift cards up for grabs!
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·         Anthea Lawson
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·         Lindsey Brookes
·         Gina Robinson
·         McKenna Chase

Come stock up on delicious books for your spring and summer reading at www.bookloversbuffet.net!!


]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/book-lovers-buffet.html/feed 23 An Improper Situation on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/an-improper-situation-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/an-improper-situation-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 19 Jan 2013 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/an-improper-situation-on-first-sight-saturday.html Welcome to Sydney Jane Baily who shares a first meeting from her 5-star historical romance An Improper Situation. Sydney is giving away a free eBook to a lucky commenter so make sure to let us know you were here.  Read on for the setup and the excerpt.

SET UP: I like to begin my stories as close to the hero and heroine meeting as possible.
In An Improper Situation, they meet on page two. Charlotte Sanborn, 24 years old, has been on her own since age 14 when her parents passed away from cholera. She looked after her younger brother, who has since moved away, supporting herself as a writer. Her mother’s family is from Boston, but after her mother married her father and moved to Colorado, they lost touch with the eastern branch. As the novel begins, Charlotte is at her desk in Spring City, CO, working on an article; she’s interrupted by the arrival of Reed Malloy, a lawyer from Boston, MA. He is fulfilling his duties as executor of a will and bringing her two young cousins to live with her. For Charlotte, this is an unwelcome surprise.

EXCERPT: Charlotte heard the wagon wheels and the horse’s hooves from where she sat at her desk and raised her head, a frown crossing her otherwise clear features.

“Blazes!” she exclaimed. She was not expecting anyone. Except for Sarah Cuthins, the doctor’s wife, Charlotte and her neighbors weren’t, well, neighborly enough with each other for an uninvited visit. And she could tell just by listening that it wasn’t Sarah’s buggy coming down the road.
She couldn’t see the wagon even if she tried to look out the window, as books were piled high in front of it. Books were, in fact, the dominant feature in the study—on history, modern and ancient languages, classical architecture, mathematics, even oceanology, entomology, and geology. And in the middle of them all, Charlotte sat at her large desk, strewn with papers and with a faded globe perched precariously on one corner.
She lifted her fingers from the keyboard of her typewriter. The invention itself was over a decade old, but her machine—the one extravagant purchase she’d made that year—was new. Anything that took her from it was of great annoyance.
Standing up, she absentmindedly tucked behind her ear one strand of hair that seemed to shimmer with all the colors of autumn. Then she reconsidered and twisted the rest of her waist-length hair up in a loose knot. It wasn’t tidy, but it was better than going to the door all undone, she thought.
The wagon was obviously stopping at her door, so she had no choice but to greet its passengers. Lord, she hoped no one wanted coffee. For that matter, she hoped no one wanted anything, as the kitchen was as bare of food as she was of hospitality and time for interruptions.
Charlotte crossed the well-worn yellow and blue rug, automatically stepping over the small hole in the floorboard as she strode into the hall. It was cluttered with her shoes, coat, umbrella, and various knickknacks, though she didn’t even notice the comfortable mess.
When a sharp knock resounded from the other side of the door, startlingly loud in the silence, she froze. Then she took a deep breath. 
“Coming.” Charlotte hoped she didn’t sound as irritated as she felt. No one respected other people’s deadlines! She yanked open the door and then nearly slammed it shut with surprise. Instead, she stepped back with a murmured, “Oh, my!”
Before her was a tall, dark-haired man with the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen, dressed in a well-fitted suit of the neatest charcoal stripe. However, what caused her disconcertion was not his devilish good looks alone, but the two young children standing on either side of him.
The little girl, with two blond braids, was holding the man’s hand while the little boy, who had hair remarkably similar in color to Charlotte’s own and who barely came above the man’s knee, simply clutched the man’s well-tailored pant leg, causing a severe pucker.
“I understand this is the Sanborn homestead.”
His voice brought her attention back to him. She looked up dazedly, her own sparkling green eyes blinking at the late spring sunlight behind him. Perhaps the whole apparition of handsome man and small children might just disappear if she willed it.
“I am Charlotte Sanborn.” Automatically, she stuck out her right hand to the stranger.
He looked at her hand, his face surprised.
“The writer?”
Now she looked stunned. “How on earth . . . ?” she began. No one except the few people in Spring City who cared to find out knew that she was “Charles” Sanborn, the acclaimed writer.
“Excuse me,” he added, “I thought you would be older. That is, I’m delighted to meet you.” A smile crossed his features for the first time, and he took her extended hand in his free one, and with a firm grasp, shook it.
Charlotte felt a shock of warmth and strength and realized it had been a long while since she’d touched someone else’s skin.
“It is an honor and a pleasure,” he continued. “I’ve read much of your work.” His voice was as warm as his hand, and she flushed.
Charlotte was used to praise, having been hailed as a voice of her time for the past few years by the editors with whom she had contact; she was successful in her own uncelebrated and quiet way—of course under the guise of her pseudonym.
However, knowing that this man had sat down with her work in his hands caused her to feel strangely exposed.
“Well, thank you,” she said and stopped. She was waiting. He was waiting. The children were waiting but less patiently. The little boy tugged on the man’s pant leg.
“Are we goin’ in?” he asked, looking not at Charlotte but up at the tall man, who gave him a smile that stirred Charlotte’s sentiment.
“Oh, I am sorry,” she murmured, still thinking of the man’s genuine smile. “Where are my manners?” The little girl just stared at her as if she was wondering the very same thing, and Charlotte quickly moved aside to let them enter. She felt for all the world as if she had suddenly stepped out of her own life. A few moments ago, she would never have imagined a man and two children standing in her entryway.
“I am sorry to barge in on you, Miss Sanborn,” he began, as his eyes took in the untidiness and the disrepair in one quick glance, “but once we arrived in Spring City, I discovered, of course, that there was no telephone system in place as yet.”
They must be from the east, she concluded. “I think it will be a while yet before those of us in Colorado have the benefits of Mr. Bell’s invention.” Having exhausted that topic, she waited again for him to explain himself.

END OF EXCERPT

If I hadn’t read the setup I would be wondering who this wayfaring stranger could be and how he found Charlotte and what he wants?  If you are curious about this story as I am, An Improper Situation is available at most ebook vendors (linked below) and also in print from the Amazon link.
Amazon       Smashwords      Barnes and Noble      iTunes      Sony
You can also visit Sydney Jane Baily at www.SydneyJaneBaily.com, visit her on Facebook, and follow @SyndeyJaneBaily.

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/an-improper-situation-on-first-sight.html/feed 1 A Love Song in Wyoming on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/a-love-song-in-wyoming-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/a-love-song-in-wyoming-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 05 Jan 2013 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/a-love-song-in-wyoming-on-first-sight-saturday.html Today I welcome E. Ayers with her sweet contemporary romance, A Love Song in Wyoming.  Wyoming is my favorite state in the U.S.A. and I love music so I am really happy to share this first meeting between her characters!

The Setup:  Johnny Rockthorne is one of the top country/western vocalists. He spends most of his time on the road doing concerts, and the rest of the time he’s home with his parents. His career is a family business. His mom runs it, and his big sis (Lucy) is his road manager. Her husband (Ed) handles his stage. Now he wants a place to call his own, far from fans, where he can relax, and write. Wyoming looks like the perfect spot.

Excerpt:  “What was this place?” Johnny asked, as he looked at all the bedrooms with hotel-like locks on the doors.

“A dude ranch. Do you intend to use it as commercial property?” The agent pulled at the corner of his generous mustache.
“Private residence.” The view out the windows caught his attention. Fields stretched almost forever until they met some distant snow capped mountains that blended into the bright sky. Beautiful.
He opened a door and walked onto a tiered deck. A pool and hot tub came into view, along with a fire pit and a massive outdoor grilling area, all of it hidden from the panorama within the house. He stepped down, turned, and looked at the cabin. Made from logs and stones, it was a man’s retreat. Bold, spacious, and everything he could ever want.
He turned to the landscape before him. The agent had called it a reservoir, but to him it was a pond. The image of whiling away a lazy warm afternoon in the water appealed to him. Maybe he’d get one of those pool chairs that floated.
A small stream fed the pond like a bright shimmering ribbon in the sunlight. Beyond the stream, a barn and house could be seen in the far distance. His mind swirled with words, and a tune began to form. He wanted paper and pen so he wouldn’t lose the song.
He stepped back inside and found Lucy. “I need to write.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, rummaged through her purse, and produced a small notepad. “I love that kitchen. You gotta get this place.”
“Thanks.” He took the paper and pen, and went outside. Songs were flowing through his mind like Niagara Falls. He couldn’t scribble fast enough as he sat on one deck and put his feet on the lower one.
An odd cadence caught his attention. He saw a steer and then another. The noise grew louder. A herd of cattle moved into view from the side of the yard. Then he heard what sounded like a motorcycle. He watched as the backyard filled with a sea of black animals. A hot pink motorcycle seemed to be pushing them along. The rider dressed in matching pink pants, jacket, and helmet pulled to stop as soon as the last bovine crossed the stream. The rider turned, headed for the cabin, and stopped short of the decking.
Stepping off, the motorcyclist removed the helmet, and shiny black hair spilled across her shoulders and down her back. She smiled and called, “Hi, Uncle Cody in there?”
Johnny nodded.
The young woman ran up the tiered decks with lightning speed and paused for a moment to offer her hand. “Hi, I’m Angie Clovis.” Her bright smile faded as her mouth formed an O. “Oh, my gosh, you’re Johnny Rockthorne. You buying this place?”
“Maybe.”
“Sorry, cutting across this property saves me a bunch of time.” She smiled and stepped around him. “Hey. Uncle Cody!”
Johnny turned and watched her greet the real estate agent with a hearty hug. A moment later, she scooted across the decks to her motorcycle.
“Bye,” she called. “If you buy it, we’ll be neighbors.”
She put her helmet on and rode off towards the distant house.
The image of her chiseled features, vibrant blue eyes, and straight black hair remained in his mind.
He stuck the pen and notepad in his shirt pocket and went to find the young woman’s uncle. The man appeared engaged in dialog with Lucy and Ed.
“Excuse me.” Johnny smiled at the trio. “What must I do to buy this place?”
END OF EXCERPT
Looks like Johnny is a decisive man and Angie knows how to get the attention of more than cattle.  Here is where you can get your own copy of  A Love Song in Wyoming on Amazon or Barnes and Noble.  This book is a great bargain at $0.99!
To visit more with Elizabeth you can find her on Facebook, at http://www.ayersbooks.com, or follow her on Twitter.

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