O​LIVIA'S TREASURE

​"We will all be safe.”

He lifted his brow, and a mocking light shone in his eyes. “How? You think Calvi’s just gonna forgive the debt? That’s foolish, Livvy. He won’t hesitate to hurt you to get what he wants, and he’s got all the leverage he needs to take you to court over it.”

She knew that. Her anger mounted as did her fear. She poked Kane in the chest. “I’m not stupid, and you can back away from me, Kane Tucker. You’re not in charge of me or what I choose to do. I asked you to—”

He circled her wrist with a tight grip. His breath came harder. His gaze snapped with fire. “And you can’t order me around, either. I’m here. I’m not going away. If anything happened to you…” He clamped his mouth shut, and he looked at her. Hard.

She didn’t want to know this. She didn’t want to hear that he cared, that she mattered. Because even if she did matter to him, he was not the type of man who settled. Who would care for her. Oh, he might desire her, but that didn’t mean he’d want her and only her.

She tossed her head, done with him. She was going to get him out of her life so she could get herself back. “I’m going to be fine. Mr. Calvi will get his money.”

Kane’s expression turned to one of concerned disbelief. “How, Livvy? Huh? You don’t make anything. You spend hours—”

She let out a noise of frustration and tried to yank her hand from his grasp. He only tightened his fingers around her. Her heart lurched that he didn’t want to let go, but it was not a gesture of love. It wouldn’t be. Not from him.

She stomped her foot, then announced, “I’m going to get married.”

If she weren’t so scared, so destroyed by the turn her life had taken, she would’ve broken into peals of laughter at his dumbfounded expression. All she could do instead was let her declaration hang.

​And she realized he wasn’t breathing.

“Kane?” she prodded gently.

​Suddenly, his gaze flashed fire. “No,” came his hard response.

"A romantic and well-written historical romance. I loved the gambler aspect, so unique and interesting. And the characters were fabulous. The heroine was strong and admirable and the hero was swoon-worthy. I enjoyed the plot twists and the villains were wicked and fun. And who doesn't love a treasure hunt? Fast paced, enjoyable read."

-- Amazon Reviewer

​"Kara O'Neal once again gives us a believable story of love, Romance & redemption with characters who touch your heart and make you smile as you root them on to happy ever after!"

-- Amazon Reviewer

CORA LEE'S WAGER

​Cora rocked lightly as birds twittered and flitted about. A fox trotted across her yard, and she smiled at the creature. Its red coat contrasted with the green of the short grass and the orange of the Indian paintbrushes that grew in patches.

This heavenly spot, ironically so close to hell on Earth, couldn’t be duplicated anywhere else. It was one of the reasons why she’d stayed and hadn’t sold the house after Butler had died.

She let out a sigh, sank deeper into the rocker, opened her book and just enjoyed the morning. A half-hour had passed when she felt a presence to her right. She turned her head, and her breath flew up into her throat.

Graham!

He stood on the dirt lane that went by the side of her home, his hands in his pockets, a guarded expression on his face. Their past stretched between them.

In a second, every morning she’d ever spent with him flashed before her eyes. They’d both loved the dawn. Those quiet hours before the world started. And they’d shared them together in his father’s library or on the porch just beyond the French doors.

And he must’ve decided to take a chance and see if she still woke with the sunrise.

She managed to drag in a breath but couldn’t move. She needed to get inside, hide herself from the pain he caused her. But her feet wouldn’t listen.

With a tight jaw, he took a few steps, and now he was in her yard, but still on the fringes.

He didn’t want to get close to her, either.

Well…

They’d sent her away, hadn’t they? She shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t want to see her.

So why was he subjecting them to this torture?

“Good morning,” he rumbled.

Her stomach clenched at the sound of his voice. It was deeper than she remembered.

“I need to speak with you,” he continued. He removed his hat, revealing his dark brown hair that fell attractively over his forehead.

The suit he wore helped cut him into a powerful figure. She was certain he was capable. Intelligent. Probably took care of things efficiently and to his satisfaction, regardless of whom he hurt.

He was a man now. And she thrilled at the sight of him.

Panic gripped her, and she squared her shoulders instantly, needing to get away from him, or she might beg him to explain what she’d done wrong. “I doubt we have anything to say to each other.” She twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. “You’re not someone with whom I choose to associate any longer.”

Oh, praise the Lord! She’d found the Angel of the Acre, and she would use her to block her desperation for this man.

He flinched and stiffened. “Look,” he growled, “I’ve got important business with you, and—”

“I can’t imagine why.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing you have that I could want, and I’m not interested in learning why you disagree.”

He curled his hands into fists, crushing the brim of his hat. “Maybe not, but you could at least hear me out.”

She laughed as if she hadn’t a care or concern for him. “I don’t think so. I only do business over a poker table.”

Disgust flashed in his eyes.

Good. Perhaps he would leave her alone now.

“So I’ve learned,” he spat. “Gambling is an abomination.”

She smirked. “And one I adore. There’s nothing like discovering your opponent’s weaknesses and taking him for everything he has.”

She’d never willingly done that. Or she hoped she hadn’t. She couldn’t control a man’s behavior or choices.

Graham let out a noise of disgust. “Fools. All of you.”

She shrugged. “At least we’re having a good time.”

Something shone in his eyes that she couldn’t name, but she didn’t want to look too deeply anyway. She needed to get him to leave. “Your errand is more foolish than any wager I could make,” she told him. “Best be on your way and find someone else to have your discussion with.”

He glared at her for a few silent moments. “Are you telling me that you truly only conduct business at a poker table?”

She grinned. “It’s no fun otherwise.”

With a frustrated exhale, he shoved his fingers through his hair.

Her heart flipped at its mussed state. My God. He’s gorgeous.

When he faced her again, she schooled her features back into a careless mask.

“Fine,” he ground out. “I’d like to enter tonight’s game.”

She laughed. “You can’t be serious?”

​“If that’s the only way I can speak to you, then it’s what I’ll do.”

"I read all three of Kara’s books in this series. They were all exceptional in their story line and the writing was excellent. If you like historical settings and romance, you will love this author. I highly recommend you follow Kara O‘Neal. You won’t be disappointed."

-- Amazon Reviewer

"Cora's a great character and her grandmother is too. Solid women characters. I enjoyed all the characters in this book. I also wondered if some of t these characters, like her two fort worth body guards might have their own story..... or maybe....Kane."

​-- Goodreads Reviewer

FELICITY'S FORTUNE

​When Butch reached Rickman’s office, he tried to see through the windows to the inside, but the grimy panes allowed for nothing. Cautious but unafraid, he walked in without hesitation.

But when he found who had come calling, he about swallowed his tongue. He stopped short, his hand on the knob, his mind devoid of all thought.

“Are you Mr. Wilder?”

Her honey voice poured through him, grabbing hold of his senses.

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt your work, sir, but I’m looking for Mr. Butch Wilder. Are you he?”

Snap out of it, man! Butch blinked then cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Yes. I’m Butch Wilder.” He shut the door.

She looked him over.

He steeled himself against the fear he might see in her eyes due to his size, but when her gaze touched his face, what he found was desperation. Confused and a little nervous, he wrapped his thumbs around his suspenders.

“Do you know who I am?”

Would it upset her if he did? But he couldn’t lie to her. Somehow she’d know if he did. “Yes.”

She twitched her lips as if frustrated by her infamy. He couldn’t blame her.

After letting out a slow exhale, she said, “My home, and by that I really refer to my children, my housekeeper and myself, has been under attack since my former husband was arrested and tried.”

So…she had gotten divorced. Or was it an annulment? He stayed quiet, not knowing what she wanted or if he was allowed to respond.

“We need constant protection until this is settled.” She waved a hand in the air. “Until either the…the hanging or…” She paused, and her gaze went distant.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. What bothered her? The event she hadn’t mentioned or the hanging?

She shook her head. “I apologize. The last weeks have been rather harrowing.”

He could imagine. From the arrest, to the trial, to now…

A portion of what she’d said registered in his mind. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But why are you here? You mentioned…protection?” Hell. Was she going to ask him to…

“Yes. The sheriff’s office can’t provide anyone, so he suggested I hire you.”

Butch’s mind whirled with the implications.

“I will pay you well, plus meals, because I would prefer it if you moved into my home. People come at all times of the day and night. I’m fearful of what has occurred in my absence for the last few hours.” She pressed two fingers to her temple and rubbed. “Not that I can do anything about it,” she muttered. She let out a weary exhale.

While she struggled with exhaustion, he tried to make sense of what she was offering. It was ridiculous. Him?
Butch Wilder? Protect her? And her family?

Hell. That was damned laughable.

KATIE'S GAMBLE

​Katie McCord paced the space in front of one of the settees, her hands on her hips. Perhaps she could find Johnny herself. She eyed the corridor on the opposite side of the lobby and tried to gather her courage.

While the possible consequences of her hunt played through her mind, a man in a long, black coat, dark green brocade vest, and black trousers entered. He removed his gambler’s hat, and his coat stretched with the movement, revealing the gun belt riding low along his hips.

His dark brown hair fell over his forehead as he paused a moment in the center of the rug to dust off his hat.
He had a strong jaw, broad shoulders, and had to be over six feet. He wore a serious expression, instead of the jovial, eager one the other patrons exuded. An energy rolled off of him, as if nothing ever missed his notice, as if he were aware of his entire surroundings, though he hadn’t even assessed the space.

She lowered her arms and bit her lip. She’d made the wrong choice, coming here. A letter might have sufficed, as Mr. Cummings had suggested. She had no idea how to handle the environment in which she had placed herself.

The man looked up, his gaze going directly to her.

She held herself still, afraid to move should any twitch make him want to approach her.

Slowly, he let his eyes travel the length of her, and when his attention returned to her face, his expression was unreadable. But somehow she knew her presence irritated him.

He turned away and sauntered to the desk. He spoke in low tones to the lobby attendant, and Katie saw the newcomer’s shoulders tense at the attendant’s answers to his questions. He then glanced over at her, and his eyes narrowed.

After saying a few more words to the attendant, the man turned on a heel and strode toward her.

Frightened, she backed up, and her legs bumped into the edge of the settee.

“Miss McCord?” he asked, his voice hard and gruff.

“Y-Yes. I’m Katie McCord.”

He jerked his head at the doors. “You need to go.”

She gulped and curled her hands into fists. “I need to speak with my brother.”

The fellow shook his head. “No. And this is not a place for a lady like you. You need to go before it’s too late.”

Was he concerned about her safety? If so, then the best thing would be for him to let her see Johnny. “I would like nothing more than to leave, sir, but I can’t until I talk with my brother.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “That’s not gonna happen. Best to give up.”

The thought of what she might lose if she left here without Johnny’s half of the confectionery drew her up. She lifted her chin. “I can’t afford to. Do you know where he is?”

He didn’t reply, only watched her with a hard glint.

“Please, take me to him. I can’t stress the importance enough.”

That muscle jumped again. “I’m sure you have your reasons, but McCord won’t see you.”

His flat statement punched her in the stomach, and she felt panic rising within her. “He can’t ignore me. Please.”

Something flashed behind the rigid light in his eyes, but it disappeared so quickly that she had no time to determine what it was. “Miss McCord, I suggest you leave before the evening crowd arrives. Find yourself a safer hotel or return to your home.”

Anger flared. “My home is in Texas. It was once Johnny’s, and he has been neglectful. I’m here to discuss personal matters with him so that I can continue providing for myself and our siblings.”

The gambler, and probably gunslinger, rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he studied her in silence.

After a few, quiet moments, during which she refused to fidget, he finally said, “He won’t listen, won’t care. It’s best that you just go and find an alternate way to take care of your kin.” His gaze swept over her once more. “Get married. That ought to do it.”

She let out a frustrated exhale. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and I demand that you take me to my brother or send him out here to me.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “Finding your backbone, huh?”

She set her jaw, sensing if she said more, she’d only end up giving him a laugh.

​He shook his head. “The McCord temper might run in your veins, but this is no place for a woman like you. Heed me and go home.” With that, he turned around and strode toward the hall on the opposite side of the lobby.

"It has been quite some time since a book took me from laughing to crying, from suspense to love. This well written story takes a small town girl into the glitzy, underhanded world of gambling to try and save her family. The author took me there as well! Ready for Book 2 in this series!"

-- Amazon Reviewer

"In her entrancing writing style, Kara O’Neal again has thrust the reader into each scene of this delightful story, using detailed descriptions of settings, unique characters and rich dialogue of the era and geographical location. Kara O’Neal simply cannot be topped for excellence in creating emotion-wracked situations. Gamblers and Gunslingers looks like another winner! Based on a scale of 1-5, Katie’s Gamble deserves a 7."

​-- Kat Henry Doran, Wild Women Reviews

"This new book by favorite author Kara O'Neal is everything I hoped it would be. It contains all the warmth, love and emotion of her previous books (her Pike's Run series). As the hero struggles to overcome the emotional pain of his past, the heroine struggles to deal with her difficult present. As always in one of Ms. O'Neal's books, the support and love of family and friends underlie every line. A heartwarming read sure to please and entertain."

​-- Amazon Reviewer

FOREVER HOME

When he reached the well-hidden overgrown path that led to his favorite spot on the river, he slowed down and guided his truck carefully down the incline. Coming out from under the branches of pine, he hit the brakes. A silver Jeep Wrangler was sitting in his spot.

Taken aback, Wyatt put the truck in park and blinked at the vehicle. So, he wasn’t the only one who knew about this secluded fishing hole.

Intrigued, he turned the truck off, then climbed out. His boots crunched on gravel, and he eyed the Jeep as he walked toward the bank. An Astros bumper sticker, along with one for Texas Country artist Roger Creager and another for Kylie Frey, had been placed in strategic spots on the back of the Jeep.

He came around the stranger’s car and looked toward the big oak.

And there, at its base, sat the only person Wyatt had ever come across in the ten years he’d been visiting the fishing hole.

Jessie Townsend.

He stopped dead.

She also gaped at him, a straw hat covering her hair that she’d done up in two braids. She wore overalls and a tank top. She had her fishing line in the water.

His pulse began to race, and he was so damned surprised, he couldn’t think of a blessed thing to say. Questions blasted through his mind. How long had she been coming? Why did she come? Why did she like the spot?

It was unbelievable. Fate. Destiny.

Right?

He ran a hand down his face and tried to get control of the emotions racing through him.

She cleared her throat. “Morning.”

He quickly lowered his arm and said hastily, “Morning. Sorry to intrude. Forgot my hat.”

Her gaze lowered to the cap resting in the dirt next to the roots of the tree. “I had wondered who that belonged to.”

With his mind still reeling with the discovery that they not only shared a love of fishing in the quiet of the morning, they also liked the same spot, he went forward. He stooped down and picked up his cap.

She watched him as he settled it on his head. He kept his stare on the river. And his mouth clamped shut.

She didn’t like him. Had rejected him twice already. He’d be a fool to try a third time.

He let out a breath, forced himself to meet her gaze and nodded once. “Sorry to interrupt. Enjoy your morning.”

“It’s no trouble. Thank you.”

He turned and began walking away, but with each step came a warning. His gut clenched with the feeling that he shouldn’t go. That he hadn’t been wrong. There was something different about her.

With a growl of frustration, he pulled up. Before he could talk himself out of it, he whipped around and strode back to her side.

She was looking at him, as if she’d expected his return.

He stopped and lowered to a squat, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “How long have you been comin’ here?”

“Consistently?” She shrugged. “About four years. Since I graduated. But I found this spot when I was fifteen. Couldn’t use it often because I wasn’t driving yet.”

He nodded. “It’s been ten years for me. I’ve never stumbled upon anyone else. Thought I was the only person who knew about it.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Me, too.”

He held her gaze, falling into her warm, brown eyes, and feeling his heart thump wildly. He couldn’t remember the organ ever misbehaving in the same manner. After a few quiet moments in which he couldn’t tear his focus from her, he said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta try again.” He took a deep breath, then said, “Have supper with me. Just one meal. That’s all.”

She looked away, giving him her profile.

This time, he saw pain in the sweet, feminine lines of her face. It was there, hovering, controlling, and he realized she’d been hurt before. Which told him more about her and why she couldn’t take a chance on him. He couldn’t blame her.

She shook her head. “I can’t. I apologize.”

He exhaled slowly. It would be wrong to tell her that he thought there was something special about her. If it weren’t for how his heart went haywire when he was around her, he wouldn’t be able to believe the statement, either. Besides, he didn’t want to tell her what she caused in him, since he really couldn’t define it himself.

“All right. No harm done.” He rose.

She looked up at him.

He couldn’t help but grin at how cute she looked. What a woman. She was stunningly gorgeous one minute, then adorable the next. If he’d known his life was going to lead him to meet her, he never would’ve dated others. “Hope you catch something. I didn’t.”

She laughed lightly. “See you around, Wyatt Davis.”

Well…probably not. He doubted he’d run into her again. Even if he did, he was done asking. She’d been hurt, and he couldn’t be trusted. He knew that.

​He left, disappointed but damned amazed by the woman he couldn’t have.

"This is a classic romance story where you know from page one that the man and woman are going to get together. But what makes the story a fun read is their journey to get there. Wyatt Davis has a reputation as a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy and at thirty, he's ready for a change. Jesse Townsend has had her heart broken when on the night before her wedding, her fiance cheated on her with another woman. She's spent the last two years protecting herself from ever having to feel that kind of hurt again. She's lost herself in her work, running an antique store and participating in the local heritage society dedicated to preserving the past. So, when Wyatt asks her out, she immediately turns him down, then turns him down four more times. He has to get inventive to find ways to be around Jesse because he knows she's something special. One of the things I enjoyed as a lover of Texas music and the artists who make it, is all the references throughout the book to different artists who I also follow and admire, such as Curtis Grimes, The Turnpike Troubadours, Cody Jinks, Zane Williams and many more. This is truly a fun read, especially if you're from Texas. And, of course, it has a happy ever after ending. If you are a lover of classic romance with a few twists, you will enjoy this book."

-- Amazon Reviewer

"Kara O'Neal is one of my favorite writers! Her stories are compelling and her characters are so real you feel you know them! Highly recommended!"

​-- Bookbub Reviewer​

SUNSHINE'S WELCOME

Killian Blake trotted down Main Street early Tuesday morning, looking straight ahead, senses alert and aware of his surroundings. A variety of shops stood on either side of the road, along with the Royal Hotel that rose two stories and had an upper balcony. The shingle for the sheriff’s office swung in the chill breeze. Not many people strolled the walks, the colder temperature keeping them inside where fires burned, as evidenced by the smoke wisping out of chimneys.

A quiet place. A small town. Not even on his map. But here he was, on assignment. Who knew for how long, but hopefully the stint allowed him to rest for a few weeks. After chasing Sasha Parker, The Debonair Kid, and his gang of train robbers across five states for six months, Killian was ready for a breather. Even if that reprieve put him back in the corral.

But he’d handle it. After eight years, it might be good to work with horses again. Of course, he still had to get the job with the Swinging A ranch. If he didn’t, Detective Irwin wouldn’t be happy.

It didn’t take long for Killian to reach the end of the line of stores, and he continued on, heading to the cattle ranch located two miles outside of town that was run by the Davis and Lonnigan families. Killian was on the hunt for a position as a wrangler.

The solitary ride out to the ranch allowed him the chance to survey his surroundings even more. He went past pasture and forests of pine before a homestead came into view on his left. A sign proclaiming “J. Lonnigan, Veterinarian” stood at the gate. A one-story cabin about fifty feet in length sat on a gentle rise, while a variety of stables, paddocks, pens and corrals were on the side and behind the dwelling. Someone worked with a mule in one of the paddocks, and children darted around, some carrying out chores while others played.

Though the last name was the same as the owners of the ranch, Killian didn’t stop. He had the advertisement for the needed wrangler folded in his shirt pocket. It indicated that more information could be found at Callahan’s in Pike’s Run, Texas. The bartender at the saloon had told Killian to whom he should apply— J.T. Davis, Kyle Lonnigan or Deacon Tolbert—and that their spread was two miles south of town on the right. It shouldn’t be much farther and once he arrived, he just had to be hired.

When the gate to the Swinging A appeared, black iron against a chill, blue sky, he turned his horse down a path with deep wagon ruts going under the arched entrance. To his right rose a three-story, grand Victorian home, while a dog-run cabin stood to his left. About two hundred yards of freshly plowed land separated the dwellings. Probably for cotton, he surmised.

He trotted toward the cabin as the bartender had directed him to do, but when he knocked on the kitchen door, no one answered. Frowning, Killian headed out of the dog-run and scanned the field. A barn had been a little behind the cabin. Perhaps the owner of the home was inside. Leaving his horse tethered to the hitching post outside the house, Killian walked toward the larger structure.

As he did so, movement in a tall oak grabbed his attention. He slowed his steps as bits of yellow peeked through the branches that, despite the season, still held leaves. Someone was up in the tree.

He moved closer, ducking down to try to get a better view of who sat on one of the higher branches. Petticoats peeked out beneath a yellow linen dress. Struck, Killian barked, “What the hell?”

A feminine squeak and gasp accompanied a crash.

The bright yellow bundle tumbled down, and Killian’s heart flew up into his throat. He shot forward, stretching out his arms, and caught her just in time. He stumbled under the blow but kept his feet, jostling her close against his chest.

Breathing heavily, his pulse beating wildly, he gazed into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Auburn hair framed an angelic face that blinked in astonishment. Her full lips parted as she clutched the front of his shirt with one hand and held tight to his shoulders with the other arm.

Oh…what the hell…

​He’d just caught a beauty.

THE PRINCESS'S KNIGHT

“Miss Talbut has taken on all my duties aboard the Princess,” Mrs. Cole explained to Carl, “and I’m so grateful to her. And, as you can imagine, I can’t have anything happening to her.” She sniffed, then with care, she smoothed the hair at Madeline’s temple. “Tell me, Mr. Dawson, what do you do for a living?”

Not an odd question, but he felt it was going to lead somewhere. But what could he reveal without giving away who he was? He continued to sense it was better that Madeline not know his connection to her. At least, not yet. “I don’t have a profession. I travel, do odd jobs here and there.”

Mrs. Cole smiled at him. “And save damsels in distress everywhere you go, I bet.”

He’d aided ladies, yes, but not everywhere.

“I’m quite certain you’re nothing but a gentleman. A true knight,” Mrs. Cole remarked, while Madeline shifted uncomfortably.

“I try, ma’am,” Carl answered.

Mrs. Cole removed her hand from Madeline’s tightly linked fingers and leaned forward. “I have complete faith that you do, and I must ask for your assistance.” She gazed at him in earnest. “Would you watch over Miss Talbut for me? Be her protector while she carries out her duties?”

Well…damn it all. Relief poured through him. He glanced at Madeline again and saw her lips had pinched, and she looked ready to argue. But…she didn’t. Another revelation.

“I’ll pay you, of course, and it’s temporary. My husband will get better, and no one would dare harm Miss Talbut when he is present.” Mrs. Cole gave a sharp nod to emphasize her statement.

He studied Madeline for a brief second, realized she would abhor him guarding her. But did he have any other choice? “I’ll take the job.”

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Cole exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Madeline looked ready to spit nails.

​Well, he’d seen her tantrums. He could handle them.

"Oh wow...I LOVED The Princess's Knight. Such a unique and well-written story. It's not every day that a heroine is villainous, and the author did an excellent job of pulling it off and making me love Madeline, in spite of her faults. And Carl is a great hero. The setting of the showboat was different and so much fun. Passionate and rife with secrets and angst, The Princess's Knight is a must read!"

-- Bookbub Reviewer

"As with most of Kara O'Neal 's books, the character development was superb."

-- Amazon Reviewer

THE COWBOY'S BRIDE

“James!”

James shot up at the strident call, blinking rapidly.

“James!”

“Yeah?” he croaked out. What the hell? He was covered in hay. Had he fallen asleep in the loft? His head was pounding. He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. “Damn,” he muttered.

“James.”

And the fury in the tone finally resonated. James looked up and found his father glaring down at him, along with the judge. “Pa?”

His father’s face was beet red with rage. The judge was clenching his hands into fists repeatedly. “What’s wrong?” James rasped.

​The hay rustled beside him. He turned and met the gaze of Liza Talbut. Stunned, he reared back. “Oh, hell.”

"This book had it all: intriguing, well developed characters that drive the plot. O'Neal hit a homerun with this one."

-- Amazon Reviewer

"With every heartbreaking twist and every heartwarming turn, readers connect with the protagonists in The Cowboy's Bride: a Texas Brides of Pike's Run novel, by Kara O'Neal. Endearing characters and a surprising plot create a story that keeps readers turning pages, and readers will want to return to Pike's Run again and again."

​-- Goodreads Reviewer

AN UNACCEPTABLE WIFE

​Miss Dixon had to go.

Everett never talked about his mother. That topic was closed and had opened only for his sister one time. Miss Dixon was luring him into her web somehow, and he had to release her.

But what would he say?

Everett paced behind his desk late Tuesday evening. He rubbed the back of his neck, as his gut roiled with disquiet. She was taking up too much space in his mind, and he’d been unable to pay a call on Miss Raleigh because of it. Every time he tried to make his feet move in the direction of the young lady’s abode, a vision of Miss Dixon stopped him.

He paused his anxious trek and glanced at the list sitting on his blotter. Five names with detailed descriptions of why each would make an acceptable wife. Miss Raleigh was at the top, and he had reason to believe she would welcome attention from him. He should visit her, ask if she’d like to go for a jaunt in the park.

But Miss Dixon intruded.

He had to let her go, but what plausible reason existed? The truth could not be shared. How could he be honest?

“Miss Dixon,” he muttered to himself, “I’m afraid you must seek other employment because I find you too attractive and disarming. You’ve taken over my mind and have caused inappropriate fantasies that are much too strong.”

What a horrible, unfair basis for firing someone. It was ridiculous.

But bringing home a bride when he longed for the maid would be troublesome. Having both of them under his roof would wreak havoc on his senses, and he feared being disrespectful. Never had a woman exhausted his control as much as Miss Dixon. He was appalled at himself.

A light knock sounded on his office door. “Come in,” he bid, slipping the list into his desk drawer.

​Miss Dixon appeared, and his heart flipped in excitement. Her white cap covered her blonde ringlets, hair that he always imagined tousled and wild upon his pillow. He gritted his teeth.

"I absolutely adored the heroine, Ginny. And the boys she cared for were so cute and so much fun. The hero, Everette, was kind and strong and caring. The author did a great job of showing the two falling in love, in spite of Ginny's station in society. It all felt very real and believable. Both characters were wounded with interesting backstories and needed one another to help them heal. The setting was vivid and authentic. I highly recommend this short and delightful read."

-- Amazon Reviewer

"Really lovely story with great characters. The author pulled us into this world and let us come along for the sweet ride."

​-- Bookbub Reviewer

THE DEPUTY'S DAMSE​L

​Deputy Lonnigan sat tall in the saddle, his front dark as the moon shone from behind him. He put her in mind of a mysterious night rider, capable of taking what he wanted.

She remembered how strong his chest was, how long his arms. She refrained from gulping and strengthened her resolve. “I’m not going home. I refuse. My friend is just up this road, and I intend to stay with her for a few days.”

A moment of silence passed then the deputy said, “Well, I’m not taking you home. But you are coming with me.”

Confused, she couldn’t think of a reply.

“It’ll be the safest option.” He dismounted.

“Oh!” she gasped and back pedaled. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’ve got no time to argue.” He advanced on her quickly.

She spun on a heel, preparing to run, but he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. She bucked and kicked, dropping her bag in the process.

“Get your hands off me!” she screamed, terror fueling her jabs.

He gave slight grunts then flipped her over his shoulder.

Her breath whooshed out of her, and blood rushed to her head. “Put me down! How dare you!” She pounded her fists on his back.

He bent easily and picked up her bag with his free hand.

Frantic, she hit him harder, squirming against his hold, but his arm was a vise on the back of her legs. Tears gathered. She had no control. No power. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing in frustration and tasted blood.

After putting her bag on the back of the animal, he righted her and dumped her in the saddle. She knew the moon shone enough to reveal the silver tracks of wetness on her face, but she didn’t care. Panting from the exertion of pummeling him, she surged forward to grab the reins. But he was faster and gathered them before she could reach them. He climbed up behind her, just like yesterday, enveloping her in the cage of his arms.

A handkerchief appeared in her line of sight. Her chin wobbled, and she refused to take it.

“Please don’t cry,” he said softly, as he withdrew his offering. “I don’t have time to explain things to you. We’ve got to get off the road.”

She didn’t understand what he meant, but it wouldn’t matter if she asked. The men surrounding her weren’t listening to her anyway. She kept her mouth shut.

He clucked to the horse then kicked him into a gallop.

She tried to pay attention to her surroundings, noting that he passed the lane that led to the Cummings’ farm. They went through a shallow creek then over a rolling meadow until the shadow of a log cabin loomed.

“This belongs to a friend of mine who’s a Ranger. He’s in west Texas fighting cattle rustlers.”

She didn’t care. This man was abducting her. Her heart pounded hard, and her stomach churned with fear. If she couldn’t get away from him on the road, how would she manage to escape him once he had her tied up somewhere?

When they reached the yard, he dismounted first then lifted her at the waist. He kept his arm around her as he led her into the dwelling.

“I’m not gonna tie you up, Miss Stefanski. You’re not my prisoner. I’m trying to help you, so…” He gently disengaged from her. “Don’t run, all right? I’m gonna light a lantern, and then we’ll talk.”

He’d left the door open. The horse was still saddled. She curled her hands into fists as an insane plan developed like a lightning strike. She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to form a verbal reply since she was no good at lying.

As soon as he stepped away, she dashed out into the yard.

“Don’t,” he called.

She clutched the pommel and put her foot in the stirrup, but before she could pull herself up, he circled her waist with an arm and wrenched her back. Using all her strength, she spun and pounded on his shoulders. “Let me go!”

He switched his grip to her wrists, stopping her hits. “Stop. Please, ma’am.”

His hold wasn’t too strong, and she tried to yank away from him, but he tightened his grasp.

“Miss Stefanski, please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then let me go,” she wailed, choking on her fear.

​“I can’t, damn it!” he thundered. “You’re wanted for murder.”