A broken man…
Revenge
has driven Wolf Richards since the brutal murders of his wife and young
daughter. Returning home with his son, Cal, he faces memories and loss at every
turn. Raising Cal alone seems to be more of a challenge than he can handle. He
can never replace his perfect Emily—until a rough-edged female falls into his
arms—and living becomes a new adventure.
An unlikely woman…
Lizzie
Sutter is as rough as a cowboy and as compelling as a stormy sky. Dressing as a
man allows her to hire on with a cattle drive, only to be discovered and set
adrift near Civil, Texas. When she stumbles onto an abandoned cabin, she makes
herself at home. Then the owner of her newfound home shows up and Lizzie discovers
just what’s missing from her life—and her heart.
Two wild hearts tamed…
Lizzie
hasn’t a feminine thing about her, yet she calls to something deep inside Wolf,
something he can’t deny. Being a woman
has always left her feeling lacking, until he shows her their WILD TEXAS HEARTS belong together…
EXCERPT:
Nothing moved. Not even the chickens were pecking in the grass for feed they might have missed. And the wash was still hanging on the line beside the house. Emily never left it out past noon. A wave of foreboding scratched down the length of his spine and stabbed into his gut. He took two steps forward, studying the little house.
No smoke. There was no fire burning in the hearth, no smoke staining the brilliant blue sky behind the house.
Something was wrong.
Wolf picked up his pace. “Emily?” He called for his wife, then his two children. “Calvin? Amanda!” The corral was empty. The barn door stood open. Feathers were strewn around the coop.
He took the last two hundred yards at a run. Vaulting over the stairs, he slammed through the half-open door, then skidded to a halt. Chairs were overturned, dishes were smashed, clothes were strewn in a trail leading from the children’s bedroom. Dark puddles of jam dripped from the kitchen table to the floor. Where the hell was his family?
Nothing moved. Not even the chickens were pecking in the grass for feed they might have missed. And the wash was still hanging on the line beside the house. Emily never left it out past noon. A wave of foreboding scratched down the length of his spine and stabbed into his gut. He took two steps forward, studying the little house.
No smoke. There was no fire burning in the hearth, no smoke staining the brilliant blue sky behind the house.
Something was wrong.
Wolf picked up his pace. “Emily?” He called for his wife, then his two children. “Calvin? Amanda!” The corral was empty. The barn door stood open. Feathers were strewn around the coop.
He took the last two hundred yards at a run. Vaulting over the stairs, he slammed through the half-open door, then skidded to a halt. Chairs were overturned, dishes were smashed, clothes were strewn in a trail leading from the children’s bedroom. Dark puddles of jam dripped from the kitchen table to the floor. Where the hell was his family?

