Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]

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ISBN Print: 978-1-60154-368-4
Page Count: 232
Word Count: 0
MSRP: 6.00

Like most girls, Jessie Johnson will never forget the first time she met her mother-in-law. After all who can forget a shotgun pointed at them? Bartered for a dead horse at gun point, she either agrees to marry one of the Quinter boys or her brother will hang for horse theft. Jessie knows nothing about being a wife- other than the wedding will likely put her new husband in grave danger. After being knocked unconscious by his brothers, Kid Quinter finds himself surrounded by his uncouth family, the sheriff, a preacher, and an adorable young woman. Tied to a chair, he's given no choice but to marry Jessie Johnson. And that's just the beginning of his troubles- it appears his pretty little wife has quite a past, including a notorious gunslinger looking for retribution.

PRINT ISBN 1-60154-368-9
(232 Pages) Rating (Sensual)


"Jesus! Did you catch yourself on fire? Are you burnt?" Heart pounding, he leaped forward, landing on his knees. Without thought to impropriety, he lifted her dress to check her legs for burns.

"Should I get the balm?" Flipping the material over his shoulder, his hands moved over the white, smooth skin, searching for red blisters or welts.

The back door flew open, hitting the wall with a smack. "Hey boss, we gotta talk about this new fella you brought home."

Kid turned to the sound, one hand fought to push frayed material out of his eyes. Flour dust puffed from the fabric as he batted it aside. When it settled, draping his head and shoulders, he stared up at Joe.

"Oh, uh, sorry!" Joe turned beet red and shot back out the door.

Blood rushed to his cheeks, burning and tingling. Had he just been caught with his head under her skirt? Something under his fingers trembled, making him realize one hand was still wrapped around her leg. All of a sudden his fingers felt like they were on fire.

Blowing out a gust of air, Kid pulled his fingers from her shin and backed out from beneath her skirt. "You, um." He paused, cleared his throat. "You didn't get burnt?" It hadn't helped, he sounded like a croaking frog.

"No, no, I didn't."

Frozen--like a petrified rock--he stayed there, on his hands and knees, staring at the varnished wood floor. After the universe had tick-tocked what felt like an hour, but most likely was less than a minute, he stood and taking the chance his weather-beaten face wouldn't show his embarrassment, looked at her.

Wild Rose Press Remembers...
Liana Laverentz
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