Range War Bride
by
Brenda Williamson

Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

Electronic ISBN: 1-59374-664-4

Print ISBN:1-59374-663-6

Cover Art by: Jinger Heaston

 Warning: This is webpage contains adult content and is unsuitable for those under 18 years old.

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Copyright 2005-2007 Brenda Williamson

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Danika Stanislaus is swept from the dust, into the strong arms of an irresistibly handsome rancher during a cattle stampede. She's always dreamt of loving a cowboy. Going west has brought her a dream come true. Only Danika's afraid his intentions are set on getting her farm, the very land her family died to keep.

Alex McClaric doesn't want a wife, and he doesn't feel stealing a kiss from a beautiful woman is a reason to get married. However, not only does Danika, need his help, she has set his heart ablaze with unbridled lust. When his archrival begins to show an interest, he's prodded into making a decadent claim on the sweet surrendering virgin.

Enamored by Danika's affection, Alex proposes, except she refuses, and he fears he may lose the only woman he's truly loved. Not one to give up easy, his obsession forces him to desperately pursue his Range War Bride.

 

 

Excerpt

 

The day turned to a haze of brown. The thickness to the air clogged her throat and she only made out silhouettes of workers in the rows of tender emerging corn stalks. She ran toward the shadowy movements of those people. Her feet trampled the small sprouting plants.

“Nicholai!” she shouted.

The outlines dimmed and fear erupted from the pit of her stomach. The cloud enveloped her in the dust. She had no idea where everyone went or which way she should go. Her eyes strained to see the tree line floating in the distance. In a stumbling frenzy, she fell in the furrows of plowed soil. When the air thickened, she choked on the gritty particles she inhaled, garroting her lungs.

“Nicholai!” she cried weakly unable to breathe in enough air to scream.

She crawled on hands and knees and rose up on her feet. The thunderous drumming came closer and closer. The dirt coating her face blurred her vision.

Ever since they came to America from Russia, she had dreamed of kissing a cowboy. With the idea she’d die and never experience the closeness of a man, her pulse raced to get her out of the burl of dust.

The steps she took weren’t careful. Her footing misstepped on the uneven ground. She fell hard. Her arm twisted into an unnatural position, and knife-cutting streaks of immeasurable pain, skittered from her shoulder to her fingertips.

“Nicholai!” she screamed.

The sound of her voice barely made an impact against the rumble of the earth’s rampaging tempest. From the smoky darkness, she saw looming shadows approach. A hand grabbed her arm and lifted her. Whisked from the ground as