Firsts are always exciting. First kisses, first loves, first cars, first horses, first firsts. ;)
The same can be said for first books of a series.
As a reader I’m anxious to read the first book of a new series by an author I know. Will it live up to my expectations so far of this author. Is it a better series than the last?
As an author starting a new series is like a shiny new squirrel. My mind bounces ideas around until one sticks, and I get really excited about it. Then I discover how to make the series last more than three books (a trilogy). Then I hope my readers will love it as much as I do, and that new readers will pick up the new series and like it enough to go back and pick up the old series.
This month I rolled out the first book of a new historical western romance series. The series is titled: Letters of Fate and the first book is titled: Davis. I’m titling each book after the heroes in the books. The premise of the series is each hero receives a letter that changes his life and brings him to the woman who fulfills him. Hence, the series title: Letters of Fate. Not to be confused with Letters of Faith. Oh no, these men who receive the letters that change their lives are no saints. When they love a woman, they love them body and soul.
Davis: Letters of Fate
Historical western filled with steamy romance and the rawness of a growing country.
Widowed with two small children and a ranch to run, Mariella Swanson knows she needs help, but isn’t sure her heart, or neighbors, will accept her marrying a stranger. When the greenhorn shows up, smoking a pipe and wearing a derby hat, she can’t help but wonder if agreeing to this marriage may prove to be her biggest mistake.
When Davis Weston receives a letter from his sister asking him to marry a friend, he scoffs at the idea. However, losing his wife and son has left him a lonely man, and the whispers from others that he didn’t do enough to save his family has gone on long enough. His arrival in Oregon may be worse—these neighbors are doing more than whispering. Guns and horses aren’t his forte. He’s willing to learn, but is he willing to love again?
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He shut the door, tossed his hat onto the trunk at the end of the bed, and walked over to Mariella. Running his hands through her curls, he peered into her eyes. “You are beautiful,” he said, feeling her silky tresses slide through his fingers. “I didn’t realize your hair was so long. You always have it braided.” He liked how it fell over her shoulder and curled down around her ample breasts.
The corset she wore wasn’t long like the one Sarah wore. This one stopped at Mariella’s waist. The garment’s sole purpose was to cradle her bosoms. Hold them up. In her underclothes, that made a fetching sight.
He swallowed and drew his gaze back to her face. “Would you like me to help you out of that corset?” The contraption had hooks on the front and she could easily get herself in and out of it, but his hands itched to help.
She nodded, her gaze locked on his hands as he reached out, slipping his fingers down between the sturdy garment and the soft cotton of her chemise. His fingers pressed into her soft mounds and his heart raced. Slowly, one by one, he unhooked the corset, setting her bosoms free of their constraints.
He tossed the corset to the trunk and looked his fill of Mariella with her hair down, in her underclothes. She was a sight, with the thin white chemise with a touch of lace around the top held out by her nipples peaking under the cloth.
His body jerked to life at the sight.
“Do you want me to put my night gown on?” Mariella’s husky voice whispered.
Davis shook his head. “Get in bed. I’ll be there in a moment.”
She studied him, then walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back. Instead of crawling under the blankets, she lay down on the top on her side, her head propped on one arm and her legs bent slightly, her hips curving into the air. “Do you mind if I watch?” she asked.
“No.” His hands fumbled with the buttons on his vest. Sarah had always insisted they undress in the dark. Having Mariella boldly watch his disrobing had his body buzzing with heat and need.
He tossed his vest, shirt, and undershirt on top of her corset. Sitting on the trunk next to the pile of clothes, he pulled off his boots and then stood, to unbutton his pants. He slid the trousers down and off his feet and stood with his back to the bed in his underdrawers.
“You can take those off too,” Mariella whispered from the bed.
His shaft was already tenting his undergarment. She would see his desire whether he had the garment on or not. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid the cotton drawers down and kicked them off his feet.
He walked over to the side of the bed where Mariella lay. Her gaze followed his bouncing appendage. When he stopped at the side of the bed, she reached out, touching him.
“My! I wasn’t expecting this,” she said.
Her touch after such a long time without a woman, made his body jump and his mind go blank for a second.
He grasped her arms, drawing her to sit on the side of the bed. Sliding his hands under her chemise, he ran his hands up her sides. She raised her arms, and he slipped the garment over her head. He tossed it to the side and cupped her bosoms in his hands. They overflowed his palms and the weight made him wonder how she could walk with such a straight back.
“Hugh said those were my best quality,” she whispered.
Davis shook his head. “They are magnificent, but your best qualities are your heart and your mind.”
Her eyes lit up. He could tell she was pleased with his answer.
“You going to just hold them all night or are you going to show me your talents?”
He smiled and leaned down, flicking first one nipple and then the other with his tongue. She placed her arms behind her on the bed, thrusting her offering higher for him to reach.
He reciprocated in kind by sucking, teasing, and nipping her nipples until she had the bed creaking and cracking from her gyrations.
“Please, fill me,” she pleaded.
He grabbed the waistband of her underdrawers, peeling them down her legs and off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he didn’t wait for another invitation.
Award-winning author Paty Jager and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. She not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it. All Paty’s work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Her penchant for research takes her on side trips that eventually turn into yet another story.
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