Showing posts with label wyoming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wyoming. Show all posts

Thursday, October 3, 2024

September Book of the Month: Into the Fall by RJ Scott



Summary:

Whisper Ridge, Wyoming #4
In small-town Wyoming, a tough sheriff and a former Navy SEAL are thrown together by circumstance. Their fiery chemistry leads to constant clashes, but as they work to solve a mystery, they can't ignore the growing feelings between them.

Sheriff Neil Windham has one mission: to protect Whisper Ridge. But when human remains surface at the Lennox Ranch, the town’s past comes back to haunt it. As Neil dives deeper into the investigation, he’s torn between his duty, his father’s declining health, and the fire ignited by the relentless, unpredictable former Navy SEAL, Connor Mason.

Connor didn’t come to Whisper Ridge looking for trouble—or a future. He never intended to fall in love, least of all with someone like Neil. But with every heated encounter, Neil and Connor’s attraction escalates into something undeniable, a force of nature they can’t resist. Now, with an offer to rejoin his old team, Connor must choose between a future in Whisper Ridge or leaving behind the only man who’s ever made him feel like he belongs.

Into the Fall is an opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers M/M romance featuring a battle-hardened former SEAL and a dedicated sheriff. Duty and desire collide, old ranch secrets come to light, and a hard-earned happily-ever-after awaits.



Note: I'm going to start my review off with a little personal feelings because I can't think of a better way to put voice to how this book effected me, I understand if that makes you uncomfortable so just scroll down a couple of paragraphs.

Can't believe we've reached the end of Whisper Ridge, Wyoming but truthfully, I can't think of a more emotionally charged and beautiful send off.  I rarely cry while reading, the tears well up but rarely fall, mostly due to location and time.  As my mom's 24/7 caregiver I tend to read when I can and I don't want her to see my crying when she needs something and I also do a considerable amount of reading in Mayo Clinic waiting rooms.

Back to "rarely crying while reading", Into the Fall was one of those rare times.  As mentioned above, I'm my mother's fulltime caregiver so I'm also very aware when it comes to stories with caregiving elements and willing to be critical if the author misrepresents something.  Well, RJ Scott does it right and Into the Fall hasn't been her first story to have a caregiver element and her other stories have also been the rare times the tears fell.  I have not had any personal experience with dementia or Alzheimer's diagnosis, both of my parents had aunts that were dealt the dementia blow but we didn't have much contact with them(not for the dementia reason just the way it worked out with timing and location) I have however dealt with short term memory issues.  My grandmother was diagnosed that although even as her caregiver I was not made aware of that until she was admitted into the hospital for the last time. 85% of the time she was the grandma I grew up knowing and 15% of the time she was the kind of person you crossed the street to avoid, the problem was you spent that 85% walking on eggshells trying not to trigger the 15%.  I'm sorry for digressing into personal experience but the point of sharing this is to express how amazingly accurate RJ Scott brings Neil's family heartache to life and to explain why Into the Fall was one of those rare crying books for me because her accuracy tugged at my heart so deeply and though it brought back a few heart-hurt memories it all gave me a chance to release some that I had boxed away these past 13 years since my grandmother passed.  So Thank You, RJ Scott for once again going that extra mile to make the emotions real, to respecting the heartache.

Okay let's talk Into the Fall.

I was so hoping we'd get to see more of Conner when he was introduced back in book 2, Summer Drifter and I was not disappointed. Conner is a man who needs to be in control, needs something to do and that puts him in the path of Neil, the town sheriff.  Not in a malicious way but because he does a few things that a civilian shouldn't.  But as a former SEAL Conner cannot stand by when assistance in required, at least that's how he sees it, Neil on the other hand has other thoughts on the matter.

Neil has his hands full dealing with Conner but he has so much more on his plate, short staffed, Mother Nature, and his family learning to live with his father's aggressive form of dementia.  How much can one man take?  Perhaps if he lets Conner do his thing Neil won't find himself spread so thin?  Mother Nature's plans throw a new hurdle in his path as bones are discovered on the Lennox Ranch after a mudslide and once again Conner jumps in to action, quite literally as the landscape beneath the bones threatens to erode even more.  Neil's answer: cuff him and arrest him.  So much for lightening the loadπŸ˜‰.

I'm not going to spoil further, just know that Conner and Neil find themselves dealing with not only their attraction and chemistry but also family, friends, bones, and potential murder mystery. Now I know I made Into the Fall sound like a highly charged heart-breaking drama and there are those elements of course but there is also plenty of love, humor, romance, and heat to make this an all around enjoyably entertaining read that may hurt the heart at times but always warms and heals too.

If you are new to Whisper Ridge, Wyoming and are wondering about reading order, yes each entry is a new couple but there are story points that carry over as well as characters that play a part.  I suppose technically you could call it a standalone series with new couples at the forefront but I can't imagine reading out of order, friendships deepen and characters grow that would seem odd to see said connections go backwards if read differently than released. However you read it, this is a series that will warm your heart and fill you with hope.

RATING:





Chapter One
CONNOR
I braced myself as a gust of wind tried to take my feet from under me. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten talked into heading out into the most dramatic storm I’d witnessed since the team’s last Red Sea deployment. Not when I had a good book waiting in my apartment.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning split the sky, illuminating the town in brief, eerie flashes as the rain hammered the streets of Whisper Ridge, turning them into slick, glistening rivers.

I shouldn’t have been going out tonight.

I should’ve used the weather as a reason to stay in my lovely, cozy apartment, not headed up a damn mountain in this deluge for Quinn’s birthday party.

I locked the diner door, pulled my long coat jacket tight, and headed towards my SUV. The relentless downpour muffled all other sounds as my boots splashed through the puddles.

“Connor Mason!” The furious yell cut through the rain as Sheriff Neil Windham—six feet of sexy, blustering, temper-driven man—blocked my way. His face was a thundercloud matching the sky, and my adrenaline spiked when he bunched his fists. I thought for a moment he was going to slam me to the ground.

I’d been waiting all day for him to challenge me, but the party and the storm had derailed my concentration, and here I was caught on the back foot, in the rain, and there he was, a man filled with rage. This was a definite step up from his typical sarcastic irritation with me, straight to DEFCON 1—the kind of anger that made me brace for impact and reach for a weapon I wasn’t even carrying.

I’d been expecting this visit all day. Still, I was hoping the confrontation would happen when it was dry.

In my apartment.

In my bedroom.

Preferably naked and post-sex.

My pulse quickened, not just from anticipating a confrontation but from something deeper, something hidden where all my secrets lay. I couldn’t explain my visceral reaction to this intense man, but I craved his sharp tongue pulling me up on any and all chaos I had caused. My therapist would have a field day analyzing my brain—if I ever went back to therapy. She’d tell me I craved all his attention, even if it was negative, and probably go deep into why I loved pushing his buttons. Facing Neil head-on was a challenge that sparked something deep inside me. I lived for these moments when Neil was angry and when his presence in my space made me feel something.

Not that I ever told him that. I pushed and pushed, and when he snapped, I soaked up his passionate temper and loved every freaking moment of it because he made me feel…

Alive.

I squared my shoulders, ready to meet whatever he was bringing in the madness of the storm.

“Tell me you didn’t threaten Abraham Wild!” The fury in his tone was like catnip.

Rain dripped from the brim of my cap, and I pulled up the hood of my coat—not that it helped, given it wasn’t completely waterproof. “I didn’t threaten Abraham Wild.”

I did.

“Witnesses tell me you took his gun from him and shoved him to the ground.”

“He had a rifle, yeah, I disarmed him, but he was drunk and about to fall over anyway.”

“You took his gun and assaulted him.”

“He tripped,” I replied, raising my voice to be heard over another rumble of thunder.

“I don’t have time for your shit!” Neil’s eyes blazed with anger; his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You told him that if he didn’t stop waving his gun, then you’d shove the gun up his ass.”

“Yep, that was me. Now, are you mad I said that, that he tripped, or that there were witnesses?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I could see him reining in his temper. “He’s accusing you of being armed.”

I tapped my lip in exaggerated thought. “Well, I was armed after I took his rifle.”

“Give me strength.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and swiped away a face full of water.

I snorted a laugh, then spread my hands wide, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. “Anyway, you know I don’t need to carry.”

Neil’s glare was icy. “You took his gun⁠—”

“I emptied the chamber and gave it back to him.”

“You can’t just go around threatening people in my town. If you see something wrong, you call me.”

“I neutralized a threat. What could you have done that was any different?”

I saw the conflict in his eyes, the frustration of understanding his job’s limitations, and the temper riding his ass. We both knew Abraham Wild’s issues, but without a formal report, there was nothing the sheriff could do. Yeah, if I’d called Neil in his official capacity, then maybe there’d be something on record, but what if, in the meantime, Abraham had shot someone? Like his wife or that skinny kid with the braces who worked there after school.

No one dies on my watch.

Neil’s jaw tightened, and then he cursed. “You come to me, Connor. You don’t threaten him.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “So, you can write him a stern letter after the fact? A warning won’t stop him if the posturing and drinking escalates.”

“I know that family.”

“Do you?”

Neil’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration, maybe a hint of agreement that he didn’t know Abraham as well as he thought. Word in town was that Abraham had been fine until he’d lost his job and fell into what his wife called a midlife crisis, which seemed way too soft for the darkness surrounding him. He hadn’t hurt anyone—yet—but he was less likely to hurt someone without bullets.

Logic for the win.

Neil stepped so close I imagined I could feel the heat of his breath despite the chill of the rain. “You’re not the law here, Connor. I am. And you need to let me do my job.” It seemed he wanted to say more, and I waited, but his lips thinned.

I shook my head, exasperated. “People like Abraham need to know there are real consequences to waving a gun around.”

Neil’s expression hardened again, and he stepped back into the rain. “You’re lucky I don’t arrest you.”

Hell, as much as I respected Neil and his dedication to his job, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing when people were being hurt. It must’ve killed him not to be able to take the man down.

“Do it then⁠—”

He swiped a hand between us, cutting the conversation dead. “No more wannabe heroics, no more theatrics, no putting yourself in front of a gun, Connor. No. More.”

A deluge of water spilled from where it had collected in the door canopy above, just about soaking us both, and I grabbed Neil’s arm, pulling him closer under the shelter. Not one forecaster had warned that this storm was going to throw the contents of a damn lake or gusts of wind down the mountain, but its snarling arrival matched the dark and desperate mood I’d been in all day. The scent of the thunderstorm lingered in the air—a heady mix of ozone and rain, earthy and electric, amplifying the tension between us, and the sudden proximity to Neil made my heart race. We were close enough to kiss. And damn it, but I wanted one taste of the irritable, yet sexy, sheriff. The tension between us was tangible, a mix of frustration, admiration, and something deeper that made me want to hold him and silence his shouting.

“Why are you doing this to me?” His eyes flicked to my lips for a split second, and I almost leaned in, tempted to steal that kiss I’d wanted for so long.

The storm raged around us. The rain was a relentless curtain that hid us, and every nerve in my body was alive with the possibility of what could happen next. This was the moment we’d kiss at last, hidden from the town, giving in to the spark of attraction. God, I could nearly taste him already⁠—

Neil stepped away, moving out into the rain. He marched across the road, heading straight for the sheriff’s office, his shoulders stiff with anger.

Disappointment made my stomach swoop, but I couldn’t help but call out, “Night, Sheriff!”

He ignored me, not even a glance back, and as he walked off, I couldn’t shake the feeling this argument was far from over. The tension between us had been thick enough to cut with a knife—unresolved lust on my part, a hefty dose of anger and disgust from him. I knew the tension between us wasn’t volatile frustration because I’d seen it in his expression.

Naked want and need.

The same as mine.

One day, I’d push him too far, and he’d grab me and show me what he wanted to do to me. Punch me, shake me, hurt me…

Kiss me.

One day I’d crack his stoic exterior, but tonight was not that night, and disappointment piled on top of the resentment because I didn’t want to be out in this rain anyway. I went from lustful and snarky to moody and pissed again.

I loved Whisper Ridge, working with Quinn’s foundation and running his security. I lusted after Sheriff Windham—Neil—and I actually loved storms if I was inside with a good book and a coffee.

I wished the high of confrontation and temper stayed, and that I didn’t feel so lost.

Fuck. How far do I need to push him to get what I want?


Saturday's Series Spotlight

Monday's Morning Menu

September Book of the Month



RJ Scott
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards

USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.

She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.


EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk



Into the Fall #4
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N



Saturday, March 31, 2018

March Book of the Month: Winter Cowboy by RJ Scott


Summary:
Micah Lennox left Whisper Ridge after promising the man he loved that he would never return. But the only way he knows to keep his pregnant sister and nephew safe is to go home. Spending winter in Wyoming opens too many old wounds, but he's on the run from justice which can't be far behind, and this is his last chance at redemption.

After a hostage situation leaves Doctor Daniel Sheridan struggling with PTSD, he returns to Whisper Ridge. Joining his dad in family practice is a balm to soothe his exhausted soul, and somehow, he finds a peace he can live with. That is until he meets Micah in a frozen graveyard, and the years of anger and feelings of betrayal boiling inside him, erupt.

Two broken men fight and scratch for their lives and that of their families, and somehow, in the middle of it all, they find each other.

Is it possible that love can be rekindled and become a forever to believe in?


When Micah Lennox promised the man he loved he would never return he intended to keep that promise but now he has to protect his pregnant sister and nephew. Whisper Ridge and the family ranch is the safest place he can think of to do just that.  Dr. Daniel Sheridan has returned to Whisper Ridge after a hostage situation has him living with PTSD and a certain level of survivor's guilt.  The last thing he wants to hear is that his former lover has broken his word to stay away.  Will Micah and Daniel be able to leave the past where it belongs and find a new future living in the same community or will the heartache and pain of long ago win out?

First, I just want to say a huge thank you to RJ Scott.  Not only is the book amazing but because of its awesomeness, I had an amazingly entertaining and relaxing trip to the Mayo Clinic.  It turned one of those "routine" days with Mom's doctors(you know the kind where you have to be there at 7am for blood, than 9 for an x-ray and then sit around till 4pm for the doc) into . . . well like I said it was just relaxing and entertaining, I got more than a few sideway glances when I gasped or grinned like a chesire cat but I loved every minute of it, so once again Thank You, RJ for making a long strung out day not so long and not so strung out.

Now as for the story, don't think because I used the term "relaxing" that its all sunshine and unicorns, oh no quite the opposite really.  Winter Cowboy is full of drama, heartache, and tears BUT its also jam packed to overflowing with amazing characters, incredible settings, second chances, and heart.  I'll admit that Daniel grated on my nerves at times with putting all the blame on Micah for the past, which I won't spoil, but I am going to say as a reader hearing both sides if I was in Daniel's shoes I would like to think I would be more honest about the situation but I can't say for certain I would do it differently.  Sometimes fate has their own clock, we may not agree with how its set but it usually gets us where we need to be and when.  I will admit I loved how both Micah and Daniel had issues to deal with and accept, more often than not it comes down to one character with the problem and the other "dealing" with it but not these boys they are both looking for a second chance.

I just want to finish by saying I have read many books and many authors over the years, both as a blogger and my personal reads and I have a small list of authors who continually ingratiate the secondary characters into a story to make them more than just window dressing, page filler, or fodder for the bad guys and RJ Scott is at the top of that list.  Whether its a character that will probably be at the center of a future tale(πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰hint, hint at NeilπŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰), family that gives the main characters reason to return, or that judgmental couple you really want to knock on their ass.  They all add something that makes the journey better and has left me hungry for more from Whisper Ridge, Wyoming. I can't wait to see what RJ has in store next for this ranching community.

RATING: 


Chapter 1
2009, Daniel
A figure stood beside Isaac’s grave and I knew immediately who it was.

There was no marker yet for the boy who had died two weeks ago and who would forever be nineteen. Flowers marked his resting place, but snow had long since covered them and softened the raised earth so it wasn’t as obvious against the gravestones around the figure. A car accident had taken Isaac, killed him on impact, and his family grieved for a future that would never be realized.

I’d just left my brother, Chris, in the hospital, broken beyond repair in the same accident. At least we had the possibility of a future with him, even though the road to recovery would be hard. He was still in a medically induced coma, not yet awake to know he’d lost his leg, or that fire had marked his face. But he would wake up. They told us he’d live.

No one had asked me where I was going when I’d left Chris’ room, each of us lost in various stages of shock and grief, and we all dealt with what had happened in our own way. I’d needed to connect with Isaac. Needed the peace to balance the loss and guilt that ate away inside me.

Isaac dead on impact, Chris’ future destroyed, and in front of me, hunched over Isaac’s last resting place, was the man responsible for it all.

The man who left my bed in the dead of night to become a murderer.

Micah.

He was huddled into his coat, the January ice bitter by the buried, hands forced into his pockets, and his hood pulled around his face. Micah must have heard me, because he glanced my way, startled, grief written on his face. And then his expression changed.

He stepped toward me, his expression full of something like hope.

“Daniel?” he said. “Is Chris okay? No one will let me see him.”

He stopped walking when I didn’t reach out for him and looked at me uncertainly.

“His leg is gone, down from his knee,” I explained dispassionately, and then touched my face, “and his burns are bad, the left side of his face from his temple to his chin.”

“Shit. Shit.” Micah bent at the waist, as if he couldn’t breathe, and he was crying.

“How is it you don’t have a mark on you?” I asked, still eerily calm, and utterly focused.

He took his hand from his pocket, and pulled up his sleeve, exposing bandages. “I was burned,” he began. He dropped his hand when I didn’t comment, forced it back into his pocket, wincing as he did so.

I imagined the burn hurt a little, maybe even a lot, but he was there, as whole and real as when he’d left my bed on that terrible day.

In my mind I saw Chris in the hospital, the covers raised over the cage which protected his surgical site, then dipping lower where his ankle should have been. I saw a clear image of Isaac the day before he died, knocking for Chris and grinning at me as if he had the greatest secret to tell his best friend.

And here was Micah, telling me he had slight burns on his arm? The same man who’d told me in one breath that he loved me and then had stolen my car, driving it into a bridge and killing one boy, leaving another maimed and in a coma.

My fist flew, clenched aggression targeting Micah’s face, his cheekbone, and I heard a satisfying crunch. He staggered back a step, but he didn’t go down, and he didn’t take his hands from his pockets. I was too fast. I hit him again, blood flecking his face, dissipating into the icy air. He moved again, the force of my blows shoving him back.

Still, his hands remained in his pockets, and he was unnervingly quiet, taking my hits as if they were nothing at all. Another punch connected with his lip and split the skin, and this time he grunted in pain. He staggered backward toward the next grave and bent back over the stone marker with the force of that final blow. I stepped closer. I hit him again, connecting with his jaw, but the hit wasn’t hard. There was nothing to it; he didn’t move away.

“You took my car,” I yelled, right in his face.

“You said I could borrow it,” he pleaded.

I raised my hand to hit him again, but he winced, and closed his eyes, and I wanted him to look at me. “Open your damn eyes!”

He did, and he wouldn’t avert his gaze, naked grief in his expression.

“Daniel, please listen.”

“You’ve destroyed Chris’ life.”

“I know.”

“You need to leave Whisper Ridge, and never come back. I don’t want to see your face, I don’t want Chris to ever see you again. You understand?”

“I understand,” his tone low and broken.

“You will never come back here.” I shook him. He was smaller than me, thinner, lighter, and I shook him so hard his head snapped back. “Promise me!”

“I pr—promise,” he said through tears.

I was disgusted by him, hated him, wanted to kill him right there on Isaac’s grave.

“I hope they lock you up and throw away the fucking key!” I was still shouting, and he didn’t move, just stared at me with those pale eyes, red and wet from crying. He wouldn’t stop crying. “Don’t fucking stare at me!”

I shoved him one last time, and then before I could work out what the hell I was still doing there shouting at him, I pivoted and turned my back on him, and on Isaac’s grave, and the entire carnage.



Saturday's Series Spotlight

Monday's Morning Menu



Author Bio:
RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

RJ Scott is the bestselling author of over one hundred romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.


B&N  /  INSTAGRAM  /  TUMBLR
AUDIBLE  /  FB GROUP  /  PINTEREST
BOOKBUB  /  KOBO  /  SMASHWORDS
iTUNES  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk



B&N  /  KOBO  /  SMASHWORDS

Friday, March 16, 2018

Review Tour: Winter Cowboy by RJ Scott

Title: Winter Cowboy
Author: RJ Scott
Series: Whisper Ridge, Wyoming #1
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: February 25, 2018
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
Summary:
Micah Lennox left Whisper Ridge after promising the man he loved that he would never return. But the only way he knows to keep his pregnant sister and nephew safe is to go home. Spending winter in Wyoming opens too many old wounds, but he's on the run from justice which can't be far behind, and this is his last chance at redemption.

After a hostage situation leaves Doctor Daniel Sheridan struggling with PTSD, he returns to Whisper Ridge. Joining his dad in family practice is a balm to soothe his exhausted soul, and somehow, he finds a peace he can live with. That is until he meets Micah in a frozen graveyard, and the years of anger and feelings of betrayal boiling inside him, erupt.

Two broken men fight and scratch for their lives and that of their families, and somehow, in the middle of it all, they find each other.

Is it possible that love can be rekindled and become a forever to believe in?


When Micah Lennox promised the man he loved he would never return he intended to keep that promise but now he has to protect his pregnant sister and nephew. Whisper Ridge and the family ranch is the safest place he can think of to do just that.  Dr. Daniel Sheridan has returned to Whisper Ridge after a hostage situation has him living with PTSD and a certain level of survivor's guilt.  The last thing he wants to hear is that his former lover has broken his word to stay away.  Will Micah and Daniel be able to leave the past where it belongs and find a new future living in the same community or will the heartache and pain of long ago win out?

First, I just want to say a huge thank you to RJ Scott.  Not only is the book amazing but because of its awesomeness, I had an amazingly entertaining and relaxing trip to the Mayo Clinic.  It turned one of those "routine" days with Mom's doctors(you know the kind where you have to be there at 7am for blood, than 9 for an x-ray and then sit around till 4pm for the doc) into . . . well like I said it was just relaxing and entertaining, I got more than a few sideway glances when I gasped or grinned like a chesire cat but I loved every minute of it, so once again Thank You, RJ for making a long strung out day not so long and not so strung out.

Now as for the story, don't think because I used the term "relaxing" that its all sunshine and unicorns, oh no quite the opposite really.  Winter Cowboy is full of drama, heartache, and tears BUT its also jam packed to overflowing with amazing characters, incredible settings, second chances, and heart.  I'll admit that Daniel grated on my nerves at times with putting all the blame on Micah for the past, which I won't spoil, but I am going to say as a reader hearing both sides if I was in Daniel's shoes I would like to think I would be more honest about the situation but I can't say for certain I would do it differently.  Sometimes fate has their own clock, we may not agree with how its set but it usually gets us where we need to be and when.  I will admit I loved how both Micah and Daniel had issues to deal with and accept, more often than not it comes down to one character with the problem and the other "dealing" with it but not these boys they are both looking for a second chance.

I just want to finish by saying I have read many books and many authors over the years, both as a blogger and my personal reads and I have a small list of authors who continually ingratiate the secondary characters into a story to make them more than just window dressing, page filler, or fodder for the bad guys and RJ Scott is at the top of that list.  Whether its a character that will probably be at the center of a future tale(πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰hint, hint at NeilπŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰), family that gives the main characters reason to return, or that judgmental couple you really want to knock on their ass.  They all add something that makes the journey better and has left me hungry for more from Whisper Ridge, Wyoming. I can't wait to see what RJ has in store next for this ranching community.

RATING: 


Chapter 1
2009, Daniel
A figure stood beside Isaac’s grave and I knew immediately who it was.

There was no marker yet for the boy who had died two weeks ago and who would forever be nineteen. Flowers marked his resting place, but snow had long since covered them and softened the raised earth so it wasn’t as obvious against the gravestones around the figure. A car accident had taken Isaac, killed him on impact, and his family grieved for a future that would never be realized.

I’d just left my brother, Chris, in the hospital, broken beyond repair in the same accident. At least we had the possibility of a future with him, even though the road to recovery would be hard. He was still in a medically induced coma, not yet awake to know he’d lost his leg, or that fire had marked his face. But he would wake up. They told us he’d live.

No one had asked me where I was going when I’d left Chris’ room, each of us lost in various stages of shock and grief, and we all dealt with what had happened in our own way. I’d needed to connect with Isaac. Needed the peace to balance the loss and guilt that ate away inside me.

Isaac dead on impact, Chris’ future destroyed, and in front of me, hunched over Isaac’s last resting place, was the man responsible for it all.

The man who left my bed in the dead of night to become a murderer.

Micah.

He was huddled into his coat, the January ice bitter by the buried, hands forced into his pockets, and his hood pulled around his face. Micah must have heard me, because he glanced my way, startled, grief written on his face. And then his expression changed.

He stepped toward me, his expression full of something like hope.

“Daniel?” he said. “Is Chris okay? No one will let me see him.”

He stopped walking when I didn’t reach out for him and looked at me uncertainly.

“His leg is gone, down from his knee,” I explained dispassionately, and then touched my face, “and his burns are bad, the left side of his face from his temple to his chin.”

“Shit. Shit.” Micah bent at the waist, as if he couldn’t breathe, and he was crying.

“How is it you don’t have a mark on you?” I asked, still eerily calm, and utterly focused.

He took his hand from his pocket, and pulled up his sleeve, exposing bandages. “I was burned,” he began. He dropped his hand when I didn’t comment, forced it back into his pocket, wincing as he did so.

I imagined the burn hurt a little, maybe even a lot, but he was there, as whole and real as when he’d left my bed on that terrible day.

In my mind I saw Chris in the hospital, the covers raised over the cage which protected his surgical site, then dipping lower where his ankle should have been. I saw a clear image of Isaac the day before he died, knocking for Chris and grinning at me as if he had the greatest secret to tell his best friend.

And here was Micah, telling me he had slight burns on his arm? The same man who’d told me in one breath that he loved me and then had stolen my car, driving it into a bridge and killing one boy, leaving another maimed and in a coma.

My fist flew, clenched aggression targeting Micah’s face, his cheekbone, and I heard a satisfying crunch. He staggered back a step, but he didn’t go down, and he didn’t take his hands from his pockets. I was too fast. I hit him again, blood flecking his face, dissipating into the icy air. He moved again, the force of my blows shoving him back.

Still, his hands remained in his pockets, and he was unnervingly quiet, taking my hits as if they were nothing at all. Another punch connected with his lip and split the skin, and this time he grunted in pain. He staggered backward toward the next grave and bent back over the stone marker with the force of that final blow. I stepped closer. I hit him again, connecting with his jaw, but the hit wasn’t hard. There was nothing to it; he didn’t move away.

“You took my car,” I yelled, right in his face.

“You said I could borrow it,” he pleaded.

I raised my hand to hit him again, but he winced, and closed his eyes, and I wanted him to look at me. “Open your damn eyes!”

He did, and he wouldn’t avert his gaze, naked grief in his expression.

“Daniel, please listen.”

“You’ve destroyed Chris’ life.”

“I know.”

“You need to leave Whisper Ridge, and never come back. I don’t want to see your face, I don’t want Chris to ever see you again. You understand?”

“I understand,” his tone low and broken.

“You will never come back here.” I shook him. He was smaller than me, thinner, lighter, and I shook him so hard his head snapped back. “Promise me!”

“I pr—promise,” he said through tears.

I was disgusted by him, hated him, wanted to kill him right there on Isaac’s grave.

“I hope they lock you up and throw away the fucking key!” I was still shouting, and he didn’t move, just stared at me with those pale eyes, red and wet from crying. He wouldn’t stop crying. “Don’t fucking stare at me!”

I shoved him one last time, and then before I could work out what the hell I was still doing there shouting at him, I pivoted and turned my back on him, and on Isaac’s grave, and the entire carnage.

Author Bio:
RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

RJ Scott is the bestselling author of over one hundred romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.


B&N  /  INSTAGRAM  /  TUMBLR
AUDIBLE  /  FB GROUP  /  PINTEREST
BOOKBUB  /  KOBO  /  SMASHWORDS
iTUNES  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk



B&N  /  KOBO  /  SMASHWORDS







Feb 28 - Oh My ShelvesAnnette GisbyMy Fiction NookThe Blogger Girls
March 2 - Alpha's Do It BetterBookaholic & Kindle
March 5 - Urban Smoothie ReadGay Media Review
March 7 - BFD Book BlogScattered Thoughts & Rogue WordsMM Good Book ReviewsNerdy Dirty & Flirty
March 9 - Making It HappenThe Geekery Book ReviewWicked ReadsSlave To The Written Word
March 12 - Sexy Erotic XcitingReading In Sarah's CornerBook Lovers 4EverJim's Reading RoomWicked Faerie's Tales & Reviews
March 14 - Xtreme DelusionsDrops Of Ink
March 15 - Hearts On Fire Reviews
March 16 - Valerie UllmerMirrigoldPadme's LibraryA Book Lover's DreamBayou Book Junkie

Brought to you by: 

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Release Blitz: Winter Cowboy by RJ Scott

Title: Winter Cowboy
Author: RJ Scott
Series: Whisper Ridge, Wyoming #1
Genre: M/M Romance
Release Date: February 25, 2018
Cover Design: Meredith Russell
Summary:
Micah Lennox left Whisper Ridge after promising the man he loved that he would never return. But the only way he knows to keep his pregnant sister and nephew safe is to go home. Spending winter in Wyoming opens too many old wounds, but he's on the run from justice which can't be far behind, and this is his last chance at redemption.

After a hostage situation leaves Doctor Daniel Sheridan struggling with PTSD, he returns to Whisper Ridge. Joining his dad in family practice is a balm to soothe his exhausted soul, and somehow, he finds a peace he can live with. That is until he meets Micah in a frozen graveyard, and the years of anger and feelings of betrayal boiling inside him, erupt.

Two broken men fight and scratch for their lives and that of their families, and somehow, in the middle of it all, they find each other.

Is it possible that love can be rekindled and become a forever to believe in?


Chapter 1
2009, Daniel
A figure stood beside Isaac’s grave and I knew immediately who it was.

There was no marker yet for the boy who had died two weeks ago and who would forever be nineteen. Flowers marked his resting place, but snow had long since covered them and softened the raised earth so it wasn’t as obvious against the gravestones around the figure. A car accident had taken Isaac, killed him on impact, and his family grieved for a future that would never be realized.

I’d just left my brother, Chris, in the hospital, broken beyond repair in the same accident. At least we had the possibility of a future with him, even though the road to recovery would be hard. He was still in a medically induced coma, not yet awake to know he’d lost his leg, or that fire had marked his face. But he would wake up. They told us he’d live.

No one had asked me where I was going when I’d left Chris’ room, each of us lost in various stages of shock and grief, and we all dealt with what had happened in our own way. I’d needed to connect with Isaac. Needed the peace to balance the loss and guilt that ate away inside me.

Isaac dead on impact, Chris’ future destroyed, and in front of me, hunched over Isaac’s last resting place, was the man responsible for it all.

The man who left my bed in the dead of night to become a murderer.

Micah.

He was huddled into his coat, the January ice bitter by the buried, hands forced into his pockets, and his hood pulled around his face. Micah must have heard me, because he glanced my way, startled, grief written on his face. And then his expression changed.

He stepped toward me, his expression full of something like hope.

“Daniel?” he said. “Is Chris okay? No one will let me see him.”

He stopped walking when I didn’t reach out for him and looked at me uncertainly.

“His leg is gone, down from his knee,” I explained dispassionately, and then touched my face, “and his burns are bad, the left side of his face from his temple to his chin.”

“Shit. Shit.” Micah bent at the waist, as if he couldn’t breathe, and he was crying.

“How is it you don’t have a mark on you?” I asked, still eerily calm, and utterly focused.

He took his hand from his pocket, and pulled up his sleeve, exposing bandages. “I was burned,” he began. He dropped his hand when I didn’t comment, forced it back into his pocket, wincing as he did so.

I imagined the burn hurt a little, maybe even a lot, but he was there, as whole and real as when he’d left my bed on that terrible day.

In my mind I saw Chris in the hospital, the covers raised over the cage which protected his surgical site, then dipping lower where his ankle should have been. I saw a clear image of Isaac the day before he died, knocking for Chris and grinning at me as if he had the greatest secret to tell his best friend.

And here was Micah, telling me he had slight burns on his arm? The same man who’d told me in one breath that he loved me and then had stolen my car, driving it into a bridge and killing one boy, leaving another maimed and in a coma.

My fist flew, clenched aggression targeting Micah’s face, his cheekbone, and I heard a satisfying crunch. He staggered back a step, but he didn’t go down, and he didn’t take his hands from his pockets. I was too fast. I hit him again, blood flecking his face, dissipating into the icy air. He moved again, the force of my blows shoving him back.

Still, his hands remained in his pockets, and he was unnervingly quiet, taking my hits as if they were nothing at all. Another punch connected with his lip and split the skin, and this time he grunted in pain. He staggered backward toward the next grave and bent back over the stone marker with the force of that final blow. I stepped closer. I hit him again, connecting with his jaw, but the hit wasn’t hard. There was nothing to it; he didn’t move away.

“You took my car,” I yelled, right in his face.

“You said I could borrow it,” he pleaded.

I raised my hand to hit him again, but he winced, and closed his eyes, and I wanted him to look at me. “Open your damn eyes!”

He did, and he wouldn’t avert his gaze, naked grief in his expression.

“Daniel, please listen.”

“You’ve destroyed Chris’ life.”

“I know.”

“You need to leave Whisper Ridge, and never come back. I don’t want to see your face, I don’t want Chris to ever see you again. You understand?”

“I understand,” his tone low and broken.

“You will never come back here.” I shook him. He was smaller than me, thinner, lighter, and I shook him so hard his head snapped back. “Promise me!”

“I pr—promise,” he said through tears.

I was disgusted by him, hated him, wanted to kill him right there on Isaac’s grave.

“I hope they lock you up and throw away the fucking key!” I was still shouting, and he didn’t move, just stared at me with those pale eyes, red and wet from crying. He wouldn’t stop crying. “Don’t fucking stare at me!”

I shoved him one last time, and then before I could work out what the hell I was still doing there shouting at him, I pivoted and turned my back on him, and on Isaac’s grave, and the entire carnage.

Author Bio:
RJ’s goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

RJ Scott is the bestselling author of over one hundred romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing.

The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.


B&N  /  INSTAGRAM  /  TUMBLR
AUDIBLE  /  FB GROUP  /  PINTEREST
BOOKBUB  /  KOBO  /  SMASHWORDS
iTUNES  /  AMAZON  /  GOODREADS
EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk







Brought to you by: