Sample Sunday - Preview of New Romance!

I have been diligently working on a new Romantic Suspense that I hope to have published soon. This one is a bit different than what you are used to getting from me - it is a historical romance, taking place in the late 1800's. I don't have a title for it yet, but as it is nearing completion, I thought I would give you all a sneak peek at what I've been working on!

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Tyson Sawyer jumped between train cars, watching the ground move underneath him. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he swiped it away with the back of his hand, feeling the dizziness overtake his senses. The Marshal had been hot on his trail, and he was lucky to catch the train before it had completely left the station, diving onto the caboose. Now that he was on board, he noticed it wasn’t a passenger train.

His body ached. He had been on the run for days now and his energy was failing him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Marshal’s group of horses still running in his direction. They’d tire out long before the train stopped again, but he had to take cover just in case. Edging along the side of the car, he pushed at each door he came across, all of them locked. Gritting his teeth, he clung onto any part of the metal he could find for leverage. One misstep meant he’d tumble to the hard ground below and be captured.

Something hot hit him in the shoulder, and the pain ripped through him. Groaning, he almost lost his grip, but his sheer need for survival and freedom kept him going. Finally, an open boxcar, but another bout of heat and pain coursed through him, this time in his leg. His muscles went limp and he fell inside, landing in some hay that padded his impact.

The dust kicked up and he coughed and the sound of gunshots echoed again, ricocheting off of the train.

“We’ll get you, Sawyer!”

Tyson ran his hand down his leg, pulling his hand to eye level. His palm was covered in red. He traced over his shoulder, noticing his shirt was soaked with blood. He felt faint, and his vision grew blurry. The law nipping at him was the least of his worries. His eyelids were heavy and he rested his head back, dozing.

He wasn’t sure where this train would take him or who would be waiting when he finally got off. Would he even make it there before his body gave up? Letting out a deep moan, he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to ward off the sharp discomfort. Maybe sleeping would be the best thing for him, and hell, if he didn’t wake up, at least he wouldn’t be hunted like a damn wild animal anymore.

The motion of the train rattled. The boxcar sounded like it could fall apart at any moment. To Tyson, he had scored a first class ride away from where he was wanted, despite the fact that he had two bullet holes that would soon be a bigger issue than he could deal with.

There was too much to comprehend and too much to believe. This was his life now – a wanted man with a reward over his head. It had all happened so fast that he hadn’t even had a chance to organize it in his head. It was like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

Adjusting his weight, Tyson clenched his jaw to try to get comfortable. No matter which way he positioned himself, the burning fire deep in his wounds grew. After lying still for what seemed like an eternity, his body felt numb and his vision went black.

***

Cecilia Cook stared out of the window of her small, one room ranch house overlooking the few acres she was still able to hold onto. Her family had warned her that without a man around, she’d slowly see it slipping through her hands, but she’d never admit out loud that they had been right. Fanning her hand through her hair, she pulled it back into a bun and slipped into her pants and shirt, glaring at the one dress she had in her closet.

Her mother’s words echoed in her head – Maybe if you wore a dress like a normal woman, you’d be married with a family by now.

There was no doubt that Cecilia wondered about it. She was thirty-three and never had an intimate moment with a man. The thought made her face heat up – she longed for it, but at the same time, she enjoyed taking on the world on her own. It had placed her under huge scrutiny with not only her family, but with the townspeople, all of them chastising her for her life choices. The few times she did go into town, she heard comments about how she wasn’t “normal” and that there was probably “something wrong with her.” She was definitely an outsider. Sometimes it hurt and she didn’t care if she up and left, but sometimes she loved the fact that she was so out of the ordinary.

Maybe getting married would save her land. Maybe she could still have children, though now, she was older and it was unheard of at her age.

Cecilia gripped the handle of her mirror, glancing at herself. She swiped a few stray hairs from her forehead and smirked. She was conflicted in everything – from getting married to falling into the social-norms placed on the women in her area. Being different had really gotten her into hot water, and she was past the point of no return with most of the people she knew.

Taking a deep breath, she put the mirror down on her dresser and walked to the front door. There was work to be done and if she didn’t get started soon, she’d be out past dark.

***

Tyson heard footsteps and loud banging, pulling him from his deep sleep. His body jerked and he was quickly reminded of the harsh discomfort in his shoulder in his leg from the sudden movement. The pain was so bad that it almost knocked him out again. Pulling himself up, it took his breath away, but his need to keep moving helped him push through. Would he be able to walk?

The footsteps grew louder and though he was wobbly, he was able to stand. Ambling toward the door, he slid it open, squinting at the bright sunlight that pierced through his skull. He felt like he had been drinking, and whiskey sounded good right about then to help serve as a painkiller. Edging toward the steps, the engineer spotted him.

“Hey, mister! You can’t be here! What are you doing?”

Tyson didn’t bother to make eye contact and jumped. He tucked his legs and rolled, hitting the dry ground, his body objecting to everything he was doing, urging him to curl back up and sleep. He pulled his hat brim down low, guarding his face. Maybe he had traveled far enough that word hadn’t spread about the reward. Maybe the guy thought he was just a hobo hitching a ride.

Hobbling, his wounded leg was heavy, like the weight of one hundred bricks were tied to him. Glancing down, nausea took over at the sight of all of the blood that was saturated in the fabric of his pants. It was the same story with his shirt, and he hugged his arm around his midsection in an attempt to prevent it from moving.

Where the hell would he go? He was running in the direction of wide-open farmland. At the rate he was going, he’d be dead within a few hours. It was still a better option than getting caught. He’d rather die a free man than be hanged by the hands of the US Marshal. If he allowed the man back at the train to get hold of him, word would soon reach about Tyson Sawyer and he’d be dead anyway. He had nothing to lose in taking his chances out in the middle of nowhere.

He found a small creek and his mouth watered. He couldn’t remember the last time he had food or drink. He sat on the edge, he feared that he wouldn’t be able to get back up, but his need for water was more important than the other worry. Cupping his hand, he gulped the water from his palm, unable to get it to his mouth quick enough. It tasted wonderful and he took the time to wash his face. His injured arm felt disconnected from his body, like he was losing any use in it.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he slid it over his shoulder. The fabric stuck to his skin and he peeled it off of the blood, getting his first glance at the wound. It was still bleeding and he couldn’t tell if the bullet was still inside him. Dripping some water on it, it stung, but it served as a cooling effect.

Pulling his filthy shirt back on, he didn’t mess with buttoning it. Instead, he studied the gunshot in his thigh. It was the same story – the blood had caked so bad that the denim wouldn’t budge, nor did Tyson want it to. Maybe it was helping serve as a bandage, though with as dirty his clothes were, he was certain it would soon be infected.

He needed help, and fast. Glancing around the area, he didn’t see anything within the next few miles in all directions. The heat beat down on him and though the water helped, it still wasn’t enough to pull him through. He was almost certain that he couldn’t make it five hundred feet, much less another few miles, and even then, there was no guarantee that he’d find someone to at least let him die in a bed.

Tyson scooted across the ground, leaning back against a nearby tree, resting his head against the trunk. He kept telling himself one thing – at least he was dying a free man. The US Marshal wouldn’t get the satisfaction of watching him swing. With that thought, he felt a small smile on his lips, and again, gave into his body’s will to fall asleep.

Any feedback on this opener is greatly appreciated! Check back here or on my Facebook page for updates and for when this will be available to buy!

---Danica 

Bullwhipped Sneak Peek!!

Happy Friday to you all! I am currently working on another full length romance novel that I'm hoping to have released sooner than later. It will be titled - Bullwhipped (A Cowboy Romance) and below is the probable cover I have been working on:

Here is a sneak peek at the first few scenes of the story. Enjoy! (Reader discretion is advised - contains adult content) 

“Next up, Cale Warren from Saw Mill, Texas. Let’s give this cowboy a hand!”

Cale edged up to the chute, eyeing the muscled animal. No matter how many times he lined up for a ride, the nerves came on just as strong as the first time he hopped on two tons of bull. The crowd went wild – they always did. Bull riding was a rodeo favorite. It was thrilling, it was intense, and the result of the ride was always unknown with everyone questioning – can that cowboy pull of eight seconds and take home some money?

Taking one last look at the crowd, he adjusted his Stetson and straddled the bull they called Dillinger. He gripped the rope, wrapping it several times around his gloved hand. The bull was already attempting to get him off his back, and Cale tightened his thighs around him, steadying himself for the next eight seconds, not only wanting that prize money, but needing to stay on for his pride. It was his time to shine. It was his time to conquer this ride and move up in the standings.

The cowboy working the chute patted him on the shoulder as the bull jumped sideways, crashing into the metal gate that contained him in the small area just big enough to cage them in. Cale’s leg slammed against it and a searing jolt of pain coursed through him. Gritting his teeth, he fought through it. The angrier the bull got, the more determined Cale grew.

“You ready, Warren?”

Cale nodded, confirming it was fine to open the gate and let him fly. The bull groaned as he was freed from his prison. Cale latched onto the rope as tight as possible, his body being jerked from side to side as he fought to stay on top. His legs provided leverage and balance and his right arm flew up in the air, moving from front to back, staying in perfect rhythm with the bull. One wrong move and he’d be flipped off into the dirt below.

Twisting and turning, he heard the dull roar of the crowd crescendo into screams and yells as he continued to conquer Dillinger, a bull that hadn’t gone eight seconds in months. The buzzer echoed throughout the arena, signaling that Cale had done what he had planned. It was time to dismount and get out of the arena before the bull finished the job.

Releasing the rope, he slid off the back of the angry animal, landing on his knees in the mud. A cowboy on a horse came and diverted the bull, preventing any charge toward Cale. Running to the edge of the arena, Cale was able to jump up on the railings and out of harm’s way as the bull ran past, making one last attempt at hurting him. The crowd’s cheers were breathtaking, and Cale tipped his hat in response, thanking them for the showing of support.

It was a blur as everyone patted him on the back and offered their congratulations. He had pulled an eighty-seven-point ride, putting him in first place with only three more cowboys left to ride. If he could finish top three, that would help financially, but he wanted first. He had rode his heart out and deserved it.

Joining everyone else at the chutes, he watched his ride replay on the jumbo-tron. Had his dad been watching, he’d have criticized him for several things he had done wrong, but thankfully hadn’t been penalized for.

“Don’t look at that, Cale. You know better than that!” Sammy, his long time traveling buddy, pulled his face away from the screen.

“My weight was all on the wrong leg,” Cale said, still watching like it was a wreck he couldn’t look away from.

“You stayed on eight. Enough said.”

“I’m lucky the judges are so blind. Never should’ve pulled an eighty-seven after that.” Cale ducked his head, unsure if his nerves could take watching the last three cowboys.

“You sound like your father, now shut up! I only went three seconds. If anyone has a right to complain, it’s me.”

Cale took his hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow. The Texas sun was beating down on them and he was glad the rodeo was almost over. He wanted an ice-cold beer and a cool bar to play some pool in.

He diverted his attention behind the arena when he saw her. She was beautiful, leading a horse around, her dirty blonde hair flowing from under her cowboy hat. It was the distraction he needed, and rather than watch the last few rides, he paid close attention to the long legged beauty tending to her horse. She laughed at another woman who passed by, her simple beauty flawless, her menial task breathtaking.

Was she a barrel racer? Cale cursed himself for not paying better attention to the other events. He had been around his fair share of women in the rodeo, all of them ending in quick relationships and one night stands, but none quite like her. There was something different about her and she didn’t compare to the buckle bunnies he was certain they would run into later. He didn’t even know her but could tell there was something unique about her.

“Hey, earth to Cale! Did you hear! You just took home second place! That’s a pretty penny!” Sammy gave him a small shove, his gaze following to where Cale had been staring. “Who you looking at?”

Cale pushed away from him, adjusting his hat. “Second place?” A twinge of disappointment hit him. Sure, the money would be enough to hold them over between rodeos, but he wanted first. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was a sore loser.

“Yeah, cowboy. Second place! Not bad considering all of the criticism you were just giving yourself a few minutes ago. With all the flaws you found, I should’ve placed higher than you. I wish I could put your dad in his place for doing that to you all these years.”

Nodding, Cale looked back toward the woman, watching her through the crowd that now started to trickle out of the arena. He tried to see what direction she was going in, but lost her as she weaved through a group of people. Would he see her again? If she was in the rodeo, maybe she’d go to the next one on their road trip.

“Who in the hell has your attention?” Sammy asked.

“Nobody. Don’t worry about it. I need a beer.”

“And lucky for us, there’s a bar right down the street. First round is on you, Cale.”

“I stay on, you fall in the mud, and I have to buy your drinks. That’s bullshit if you ask me.” Cale smirked as he gathered up his duffel bag, chaps, and rope.

“I guess you better stop making eight then.”

“Then who’d pay for your motel? We’d have to sleep in the damn car.” Cale finally began to relax, though he couldn’t get the beautiful cowgirl out of his head. He had to find her. He had to know more about her and why she was so captivating.

***

Olivia Hayes patted her horse as she edged him into the trailer. Another rodeo down, another check won, and another step closer to saving up for the riding school she had wanted to open for several years. Pausing, she admired the sun setting on the horizon. The purple hue of the Texas sky was mesmerizing, and the blanket of stars flowed for miles. Why would anyone want to move to the city were this view was hindered by smog and city lights?

Her horse neighed, pulling her from the view. Her brother waited for her by the truck, his arms folded over his chest. “You improved two seconds today from practice. Not bad, Olivia. But that first place girl is six seconds faster. I think we’ve got some work to do.”

Rolling her eyes, her half-hearted attempt to ignore her brother failed, and she let out a sigh. “My ride was good enough for third place.”

“You think we might ought to start training a younger horse?”

“Chance isn’t old. He’s still got a lot of speed. I think he’s fine.” She had ridden with Chance in the rodeo for a while, and it broke her heart to even consider putting him put to pasture. “And besides, how much time will we lose training another? I’m  comfortable with him.”

“It’s something to consider, Olivia.”

“I love you, Oscar, but sometimes I don’t like you.”

She appreciated that he went on the road with her, traveling to rodeos and helping with expenses, but sometimes his negativity grated on her last nerve. Part of the reason he continued to tag along was to live vicariously through her. He had tried his hand at rodeo himself, only to not make it and quite before he ever really got started.

“Chance is a good horse, don’t get me wrong. But we need speed. We need you improving more than two seconds if you want to take the big checks home.”

“Oscar, you forget why I’m even doing this.”

Oscar nodded. “For your riding school. But just think – the bigger checks will get you more money faster, and then you can stop with the rodeo and run the school.”

“I’m in no hurry to quit rodeo. I’m having fun and earning a little money while I’m doing it. Let’s just leave it at that right now. Let’s go do something fun.”

“Like what?”

Olivia thought about it for a second. They were in a small Texas town – what exactly was there to do? “Let’s go dancing. I’m sure there’s plenty of bars and dance halls around here to choose from.”

Oscar cocked his head to the side. “You’re suggesting a night of dancing and drinking? Who are you and what have you done with Olivia? Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll find the love of your life and you can focus your attention on something other than my ride times. You never know!” She let out a giggle. “Let’s take Chance back and see what we can get ourselves into. Come on! It’ll be fun!”

Olivia gathered up her saddle and tossed it in the truck bed, eyeing her brother as he put the pickup in gear. He never was one for going out, but then again, neither was she. It was always the same thing – get to the rodeo, put in your ride, go back to the hotel, sleep, head to the next town. Something was different that evening. She was bored and though she was bashful, she wanted to go dance.

“The look on your face tells me you’re not wanting to go.”

Oscar shrugged as he merged out onto the road. “No, not really. What makes you want to go so bad all of the sudden?”

“I’m not sure. Just sick of looking at hotel walls. They all start to look the same after a while.”

“Don’t you think you should rest up for your next ride?”

Holding her hand up, Olivia stopped him. “Before you start lecturing me about how many seconds I have to shave off of my time, I’ll do you a favor and let you know that I’m completely aware of it. But our next rodeo isn’t for a few days. One night out dancing isn’t going to kill me.”

Oscar parked the truck and guided Chance out from the trailer. “Suit yourself. And hey, how convenient. Looks like there’s a bar right over there.” He pointed toward a small building next to the motel’s swimming pool. “By the sounds of it, the music is already pumping loud. If you get wasted, you can just amble right back over here.”

Olivia was used to his sarcasm, but it struck a chord with her. Ignoring him, she went inside and freshened up. Dabbing on some perfume, she smoothed a small hint of pink lipstick on and ran her fingers through her hair. Hopefully she’d see a few of her barrel racing friends there – they always tried to get her to go out and she declined, partly to appease Oscar and partly from having no desire to do it.

Taking one last glance at herself in the mirror, she ducked past Oscar without saying another word and walked across the parking lot to the bar. A man checked her ID at the door and waved her inside. Looking across the room, she tried to spot a familiar face, a sigh of relief escaping her when she saw Leslie at the far end of the bar with a group of other barrel racers.

“Is that… Olivia?” Leslie stood up and patted her on the shoulder. “My word. What is the special occasion?”

“What do you mean?”

“How many times have we begged you to come out with us and now you’re here?”

Olivia sat down and ordered a beer, scanning the room for other people she might know. There was a small dance floor but not much going on, and a group of cowboys in the far corner caught her eye. Just from the look of them she could tell they were bull riders. They all had that same look, but man, they looked great in those Wranglers.

“Cowboy catch your eye?” Leslie leaned in.

“No one in particular. Besides, they’re bull riders,” Olivia replied as she nursed on her beer. She wasn’t a drinker, but the drink went down well, calming her nerves.

“And? What’s wrong with that?”

“Bull riders, Leslie. Arrogant man whores with skinny butts.”

“Sounds like something you need, Ms. Hayes.” Leslie winked and grabbed her hand. “Lets get out on the dance floor.”

Olivia finished her beer and followed her friend as they began to two-step to a George Strait song. It had been forever since she had done this, but the moves came back to her like it had been just yesterday. The crowd thickened, and she noticed several of the bull riders were standing on the edge of the dance floor, no one fully committing to dancing, but watching as the women showed their stuff.

Leslie nudged her and gave her a light shove, pushing her toward a man in a dark cowboy hat. She tried to fight against her, but her friend caught her off balance and she found herself looking right up at the man. It was dark, and the only hint of what he looked like came when the lights shifted, giving her a quick preview of his handsome face. He smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth and his cologne flooded her senses.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping he’d hear her over the loud music.

“For what?”

“For getting pushed into you.”

The fast song changed to a much slower song. That figures. Just like in movies, Olivia thought.

“How about you dance with me to make up for it?”

Looking up at him again, Olivia felt her cheeks warm up. “I’m not sure.” Her instincts screamed, telling her to run the other way. She didn’t need any complications in her life right now. She was close to getting enough money for her riding school. And just like with the song changing, a handsome stranger swoops in to send her life in a complete derail off of her path to her goals. She couldn’t allow his good looks to detour her.

“Not sure?” He cocked his head to the side and pushed his hat up, revealing more of his face. It took her breath away. Damn, he looked good. “What are you not sure about?”

“I guess one dance wouldn’t hurt,” Olivia replied, her heart racing as he led her out on the dance floor.

His hand shimmied around her waist and he pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling intoxicated though she only had one beer. Glancing up, she saw Leslie in the crowd, a huge grin on her face as she pointed toward her. He met her friend’s approval at least, but she was still very nervous.

His other hand moved against her and with as tight as his hug grew, Olivia wasn’t sure if it was possible to get any closer than they were at that moment. They swayed together to the music, and she wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what song was playing. Her attention was on everything else – his hands and how they seemed to move lower, the way his hips ground into hers, and his whiskers that rubbed against her cheek as he leaned his head into her. Oh, and his scent – it was musky, leathery, and manly. So manly that it was sending her over the edge.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.

“Olivia. Yours?”

“Cale. You from here?”

“No. I’m here for the rodeo.”

He looked down at her, his smile making her heart skip a beat. “Yeah? Me too. You a barrel racer?”

Nodding, she felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a grin. “Yeah. And let me guess, you’re a bull rider.”

“Guilty as charged. How’d you know?”

“I’ve been around rodeo my whole life, Cale. You all have this swagger about you. You’re what our daddy’s warn us to stay away from.”

His smile faded. “Ouch.”

“It’s the reputation. I’m not saying you’re that way.” She felt guilty for bringing it up, but it was the truth. The song faded and the lights flickered on. Her first real look at him was better than the others, and his green eyes popped against his tanned complexion, not to mention the dark hair shooting out from under his cowboy hat. If she stayed much longer, she’d be in trouble. Bull rider or not, the man was gorgeous. “Thanks for the dance, Cale.” Olivia started to walk away, hating herself for being offensive, but she had to make a beeline and get back to her room safely.

His hand clasped in hers, hindering her from getting any closer to the exit. “Where you going so fast, Olivia? It’s not even last call yet.”

“I thought I offended you.”

Cale scoffed and took his cowboy hat off, twirling it in his finger. “Ah hell, if I got offended at every preconceived notion about guys like me, I’d be curled up in a corner somewhere with my thumb in my mouth. You’re right, we’ve got a reputation. But you wanna know something else?”

He pulled her in again, his hand cupping the back of her head as another song belted through the speakers. They stood in the middle of the dance floor, though neither of them moved to the music. Others pushed beside them, but Olivia was lost in the moment, not even caring that they might be in the way.

“What?” she asked, feeling a smoldering hunger she had never experienced course through her.

Dipping his head, he pressed his lips against hers. Tasting a subtle hint of whiskey on his breath, she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to slip inside, searching her, tasting her, as his hands skimmed her sides. A moan escaped her, but she was certain he couldn’t hear it over the thumping bass.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead on hers. “I bet you never knew great kissing came with the reputation we have.”

Shaking her head, Olivia felt weak in the knees. Had she not been leaning against him, she probably would have fainted. “No. No I didn’t.”

He looked at everyone near them and laughed. “I guess if we’re not gonna dance we should probably move.”

“Yeah.” Olivia didn’t know what else to say. She had just kissed a man she barely knew in a bar she never went to. What was happening?

Grabbing her hand, he led her through the crowd and looked over his shoulder at her. “We’re good at other things too, if you know what I’m saying.” His thick eyebrows danced as they got back to the bar. “What do you say we get out of here?”

Olivia wanted to scream out that it was a bad idea. She wanted to say no. But her legs didn’t do what her brain was telling them to. Instead, she continued to walk, allowing him to get her to the door and out on the porch. Kissing him was enough. What else did he have in mind?

“I have a room just down the way here.” He quickened his pace, and to her surprise, Olivia followed. She didn’t do things like this. She should turn around and go the other direction, back to her room where she was certain Oscar was snoozing away.

Cale grabbed the key from his back pocket and slid it in the door. It creaked open, exposing a single bed with a duffel bag on the floor. Say no! She was on the verge, but when he turned to face her, any voice of reason had faded, and she had no intention to end this. Kicking the door shut, he pinned her against the wall, kissing her deeply as his hands trailed at her waist. Damn it, he tasted so good and it felt amazing.

Rather than do what was right, Olivia fanned her hands through his hair, knocking his cowboy hat to the floor. His lips moved down her neck and to her collarbone, sending a chill down her spine. She missed his hands when he pulled away and began unbuttoning his shirt. It slipped off to the floor below, and she aided in getting the white cotton t-shirt underneath off, exposing his muscled chest. She slid her hands over his taut muscles, feeling his smooth skin under her fingertips.