The Devil's Own Desperado




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He's everything she fears...

Wounded gunfighter Colt Evans stumbles onto a remote homestead never expecting to find compassion. But beautiful Amelia McCollister is like no other woman. Suddenly, his dream of settling down with a wife and home is within reach--but only if his past never comes gunning for him.

She's everything he dreams of...

Amelia had to grow up fast after outlaws murdered her parents, leaving her to raise her siblings alone. With a young brother who idolizes shootists, she dreads having a notorious gunman in her home. But as Colt slowly recovers, he reveals a caring nature under his tough exterior that Amelia can't resist.

Just when Colt starts to believe he can leave the gunfighter life behind, his past returns, bringing danger to them all. Can a shootist ever hang up his hardware? Or will their dreams disappear in the smoke of a desperado's gun?

Rating: Spicy
Page Count: 284
Word Count: 75445
978-1-61217-627-7 Paperback
978-1-61217-628-4 Digital

Excerpt:

She cleared the plates from the table. “I’ll start some water heating for your shave, Mr.—”

“Colt. My name is Colt,” he interrupted.

She froze for a moment near the stove. “I would feel very forward to address you by your given name, Mr. Evans.”

His laughter boomed through the room. Amelia whirled. His head was tilted back and the strong cording of his throat stood out in relief. “Amelia, you didn’t have a problem taking care of me while I was unconscious and naked as the day I was born, but you think it would be forward to use my given name. There is something that doesn’t add up there.”

She twisted her apron between her hands, staring at the floor. A moment later, Colt caught her chin in his palm and tilted her head to him. She hadn’t heard him cross the floor. Her breath caught in a mingling of fear and some nameless anticipation.

“My name is Colt. Try it, Amelia. Colt.”

Amelia’s skin burned with the light touch of his fingers and her heart hammered against her breastbone. She wet her parched lips.

“It’s a simple name, really. Four little letters. Colt.”

Her throat was frozen. She was falling into the depths of his gray eyes. The pad of his thumb brushed along her lower lip. The butterflies returned to her stomach and that curious ache renewed. She shook her head, freeing herself of his gentle hold. She staggered a step away and broke the spell.




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