Sunday, June 18, 2017

Robbie & Taron--New Novella!

I have written a novella, Robbie & Taron, Down to the River, Book 1. It will be published July 1st, in less than two weeks! 

This is a novella of only 21,000 words. I plan to write two more this year, and I'm still working on The Unbinding and Moon's Silence. 

Robbie & Taron is a clean western romance with a bit of cozy mystery. 

Here's a sample:

Chapter One

The cold wind stung Roberta’s cheeks, and she readjusted her scarf, pulling it to the tip of her nose with numb fingers. Papa slumped forward, his forearms lying on his knees, the reins loose in his hands. The horses arched their necks, nostrils down, snorting as they struggled against the wind.
The darkened sky threatened to drop its content of snow at any moment. She crossed her arms, not only to hold in a bit more warmth but also in a fit of sulkiness. Her father alone was responsible for this. Although they had been repeatedly warned not to travel without companions and not to venture out at this time of year, he insisted. It was late October, and a snowstorm could appear out of nowhere. There had been no snow yet but the cold was numbing.
Papa hadn’t spoken in over an hour, unusual for him. Normally, his spine was as rigid as an iron rod as he barked out questions and commands. Mama, lying in the bed of the covered wagon, also had been strangely quiet—not that she wasn’t normally quiet, timid some would say. 
Her father coughed hoarsely, and she ventured a closer sideways glance. Bright blotches of red stung his cheeks, and his normally bright blue eyes were clouded.
Papa was sixty-eight, had been forty-eight when she was born, yet was still a strong, vibrant man—at least physically. She wondered, not for the first time, if senility was creeping in. Mama was twenty years his junior but never questioned his judgment, was kept completely under his thumb, as had been Roberta. He’d become more irritable as of late, and his judgment unreliable.
She was their only child, and Papa, of course, had wanted a boy, a son he would have named Robert Sinclair Rutherford, Junior—someone who would inherit his medical practice. After adjusting to the realization a girl would be the only child he’d ever have, he set to work on a plan. Roberta would become a doctor even if she was born the weaker sex, although Papa never said it or indicated he thought she was weaker in any way. He put his plan into action, teaching her all he knew and keeping a strict watch on all her activities. The focus on medicine was single, and any and all distractions immediately swatted away like an annoying housefly. Many men had tried to dissuade him, and her, especially when she entered medical school. She was sure she gained entrance because of her father’s brilliant reputation although her own intelligence and work ethic gained her respect among the other students and even the professors.

Only two more weeks! Hope you check it out!

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