Cowboys are a Gamble but So Worth it! #romance #romancebooks #vegasbaby

 

Cowboys are a Gamble but So Worth It!

With the success of Yellowstone, Cowboys are sexy once more. Costner's Dutton faces tons of bad guys trying to take his land. Developers want to build mini-cities where men and women can experience the "Wild West" but that's a fake experience. Only the Duttons of Yellowstone and their employees are truly living the Cowboy life.  My series the Cowboys of Whisper, Colorado and D'Ann Lindun's Black Mountain Cowboys were living the life before an episode of Yellowstone appeared on TV screens. We combined our talents into a duet- Gamble on a Cowboy. 

Gamble on a Cowboy features two cowboys in Vegas. How do these guys handle the big city? What mischief will they get into? No matter what, they will tempt you to grab a pair of jeans and boots before setting out for the mountains of Colorado. Available only in print, you are sure to want this book for your bookshelf. 

Gamble on a Cowboy

Blurb:

Roll the dice. Take a chance. Play the cards you’re dealt. Gamble on a Cowboy.

From the international bestselling Western Romance authors, Gamble on a Cowboy tugs at your heartstrings as two women take a chance on love with a total stranger. Will they find their happily ever after or will they end up with a broken heart?

A Vegas Cowboy by Melissa Keir

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…

Alicia Cortez turns failing businesses around and comes to Vegas to give the keynote speech at the National Restaurateurs’ Convention. Talented and opinionated, she knows what will work and what won’t, but she’s been unable to find love.

David “Daisy” MacKenzie reinvented his life after the death of his wife and daughter. He keeps their dreams of a family restaurant alive in small-town Whisper, Colorado. Now he’s in Vegas and up for an award when a beautiful woman literally falls into his arms.

When Alicia and Daisy wake up missing ten hours of memory and married, will they be able to compromise and see that love is what they both need…or will their marriage be lost like dollars in Vegas?

Vegas, Baby, Vegas by D’Ann Lindun

As a woman stock contractor, Bailey McKlellan is fiercely independent. A woman in a man’s world, she can hold her own with anyone. For some reason, a cocky newcomer gets under her skin and won’t let go. In an attempt to get him out of her system, she decides to spend the night with him…with unintended consequences.

New to the world of contracting stock, Maverick Cartwright’s intrigued by Bailey McKlellan…so much so he can’t get her out of his mind. He’s ecstatic when the lady decides to spend one night with him. Will he be so happy when they meet again in Las Vegas?

 

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Gamble-Cowboy-Melissa-Keir/dp/1798677091

Did I tempt you? While both stories are part of a bigger series, Gamble on a Cowboy can be read as a standalone. But why wouldn't you want to see what happens to these Cowboys and their friends in the two series? Do yourself a favor, grab a yellowjacket, and binge all the books! Until next time...

Keep Reading,

Melissa Keir

www.melissakeir.com

I'll Wait for the Book

 

Scriptwriters have long used books as the basis for movies and TV shows. I suppose good ideas are hard to come by in Hollywood, so why not poach someone else’s blood, sweat and tears, right? And who among us hasn’t daydreamed about our book being turned into a film or Netflix series? To be honest, there are only about a dozen original plots in the world anyway, and they’ve all been used.

 

I became a classic film buff when I was a kid and if the movie was based on a book, I’d usually read it afterward. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that in many cases, the two bore little resemblance to each other! The changes were often minor, usually because the book was long or contained mature content, but it made me curious as to how often that happened, and what alterations were made.  

 

“Double Indemnity” was a bestselling novel by James M. Cain, a cynical tale of greed and murder fueled by extra-marital lust. Naturally, there had to be a movie version to cash in on its popularity. The screenwriters apparently thought Cain hadn’t done his job correctly, because they re-arranged pieces of the plot into a different order. The result was a classic film noir that still holds up today. Even Cain grudgingly admitted that Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler did an okay job with their adaptation.

 

Speaking of Chandler, his breakthrough murder mystery “The Big Sleep” had Hollywood blockbuster stamped all over it. It was the second on-screen pairing of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, and Bogart forged the template for every tough private eye that followed. It’s an entertaining film but unfortunately, the plot is so confusing that you get to the end without knowing who did it, or why. At one point, the writers even consulted Chandler for an answer, but he said he wasn’t sure, either. His lack of interest could be because he wasn’t asked to adapt his own novel, and probably didn’t care.  

 

A lot of Ernest Hemingway’s stories made it to the screen, with mixed results. He claimed not to have liked most of them, with two exceptions. The first fifteen minutes of “The Killers” pretty much copied his short story word for word. When the plot veered into uncovering the motive for the murder, Hemingway stopped watching. He also enjoyed “For Whom the Bell Tolls” because it starred Gary Cooper, whom Hemingway had envisioned when he wrote the book.

 

He had reservations about another adaptation, “To Have and Have Not.” Hemingway felt that it was the worst book he ever wrote and bet filmmaker Howard Hawks that he couldn’t make a decent movie out of it. He was proved wrong. Of course, the writers only kept the title and basically made it into a carbon copy of “Casablanca,” but who cared? It also helped that it was the first on-screen teaming of Bogart and Bacall (in her film debut), and the heat between the two radiated from the screen. They were married shortly after the film was completed.

 

There have been some adaptations that closely followed the original source. The first few James Bond films stayed true to Ian Fleming’s novels, especially “From Russia with Love.” “The Hound of the Baskervilles” with Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes is very close to Arthur Conan Doyle’s adventure. “The Godfather” is another example, because Mario Puzo co-wrote the screenplay and was protective of his story. “The Maltese Falcon” is faithful to Dashiell Hammett’s book because screenwriter John Huston lifted scenes and dialogue directly from it.  

 

Several of Donald E. Westlake’s crime capers were turned into entertaining movies, particularly “The Hot Rock,” “The Organization,” and “The Split.” When he sold the rights to any of his stories featuring a career criminal named Parker, however, he refused to let the producers use the name Parker unless they bought the entire series, which no one was willing to do. His Parker story “The Hunter” has been filmed twice, as “Point Blank” (with Lee Marvin playing Walker), and “Payback” (with Mel Gibson as Porter). Most of Westlake’s film adaptations retained the personality and nuances of his characters.     

 

Elmore Leonard didn’t fare too well in the true-to-the-source department. While I enjoyed “Get Shorty,” I looked for comparisons to the book but couldn’t find very many. I noticed the same thing with some of Mickey Spillane’s filmed adventures. “Kiss Me Deadly” is a terrific movie, but many of the book’s characters appeared in name only. Nelson DeMille’s “The General’s Daughter” was hard to put down once I began reading it, but I didn’t have that problem with the film version. Robert B. Parker did better with his Spenser series because he maintained creative control.  

 

Perhaps the low point in book-to-screen adaptations was “The Green Berets” (1967), with John Wayne. Robin Moore’s novel was a factual, non-political story about the elite military unit fighting in Viet Nam. What emerged onscreen was a piece of propaganda designed to sell the public on Wayne’s firm belief that the war was actually good for America. Maybe he thought he was still making those WWII movies where he single-handedly defeated the Axis of Evil. 

  

Pass the popcorn!

  

Tim Smith is an award-winning, bestselling author of romantic mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. His website is TimSmithAllAuthor.com 

 

 

Apologies for the late post

I have been sick since last Wednesday. My son and I spent several days in the hospital and then hospice with my mother prior to our getting sick. Mom didn't answer my phone call on Thursday night. I asked her neighbor to check on her. When she didn't answer the neighbor called 911. One of the firefighters got in through a side Windows. Mom was on the floor conscious but unresponsive. She had a massive stroke in the occipital lobe. We also learned that she was in end stage colon cancer that had metastasized to her liver. None of us knew. 

She passed peacefully on Sunday February 23.

Hopefully I will start getting over this illness soon. I have hardly been able to eat. I can't sit up for long. It's frustrating. 

Again,  my apologies for the late post.  I usually do better. 

Cara 

Cute Kitten Photos and New Books Coming Soon!

 

Good Morning to you!

March is here and we can only wait and see if it goes out like a lamb or a lion? The weather had been bitterly cold for two weeks running when finally it broke and relief was in sight. A couple more months and this will be but a memory!

But I promised you an update and cute kitten photos. It's been a good winter for writing, keeping to a strict schedule. Surprising how much it helps to stay dedicated to your craft! 

As for cute kitten photos, here we go! (A wise woman named Tina said they were always a good idea, so I'm going for it!)

As for my writing, I've finished two more books this winter and have just begun the third in my new series: A Connor Hale Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller series. Soon to be published by Rough Edges Press, an imprint of Wolfpack Publishing.

Book One: When Darkness Comes

Earth, 2055

Take one man struggling to reach the woman of his dreams in a time of utter chaos. One angry ex-prisoner looking to kidnap his own kids. Add in a scorned pair of exes looking to kill anyone in their way. Then stir with the most powerful sentient computer which has not only caused the EMP event but has downloaded himself into a human being to experience human nature firsthand. What results is a terrifying race against time to save a woman and her four-year-old daughter from monsters lurking in the shadows. Connor Hale is that man. A hero pressed to make some of the most difficult choices a human being can make as he tries to navigate through the labyrinth of a new existence which has pushed the dominant species on Earth back thousands of years in their development. Only thing guaranteed is life will never be the same. For anyone.

Until next month, I bid you adieux. Happy March to all of you, and to those who write, Happy Writing!

Hugs, January Bain/Storyteller 

Sloe Gin: A Christmas Classic - but Now

This berry-infused delight is usually reserved for Christmas, so why am I bringing it up now? Because it's been a rough start to 2025, and I could use a lift.

Besides, I’m working on a Christmas novella for you all - and honestly, this drink sounds too good to wait for December. Before we get to the recipe, let’s take a quick dive into the fascinating (and slightly thorny) history of its key ingredient.

The Blackthorn Hedgerows: Nature’s Barbed Wire

Before the 1600s, much of England was common land, freely accessible to everyone. That changed with the Enclosure Acts, which saw large swathes of public land fenced off for the aristocracy. Enter the blackthorn tree - an affordable and highly effective natural barrier.

Thick, nearly impenetrable, and armed with menacing needle-like thorns, blackthorn hedgerows became the perfect way to separate private estates from the outside world (and keep out pesky poachers).

Nestled within these formidable hedgerows were small, ruby-red fruits known as sloes—essentially miniature plums with a tart bite. On their own, they can be eye-wateringly sour, but when steeped in alcohol, magic happens.

Gin: From Questionable Origins to a Holiday Staple

Back in the 1600s, gin wasn’t exactly the refined spirit we know today. It was a rough, often adulterated drink - mixed with sulphuric acid or even urine (yes, really). But by the Regency era, gin had cleaned up its act and was no longer just the drink of the poor.

Sloe gin, in particular, became a holiday favourite, especially during the traditional Boxing Day hunt. It was often served alongside game meats like venison, followed by a slice of ginger fruit cake, and—because why stop there?—washed down with even more sloe gin.

Now that you know the history, let’s make some!

Sloe Gin Recipe

Traditional sloe gin starts its journey in autumn when the berries are perfectly ripe—typically around October. In grand country estates, entire bushels of sloes were harvested to keep up with the drinking demands of a lively hunting party. This recipe, however, is designed for a more manageable (and less raucous) gathering.

Ingredients:

• 500g (17.5 oz) ripe sloes (blackthorn plums)
• 250g (9 oz) golden caster sugar
• 1 litre (3.5 pints) gin

Method:

1. Harvest your sloes (or buy them if you don’t fancy foraging).
2. Rinse the fruit and pat it dry.
3. Prick each sloe with a fork or cocktail stick. This helps the juices infuse the gin. Place them in a 2-litre glass jar (or divide into smaller jars).
4. Add the sugar and gin, then shake well.
5. Shake daily for at least a week, until the sugar has completely dissolved.
6. Strain the mixture through a muslin cloth or fine sieve.
7. Let it rest.

Store your sloe gin at room temperature for at least two months—though the longer you wait, the smoother and richer the flavour will be.

By the time Christmas rolls around, you’ll have a beautifully deep, ruby-hued liqueur that’s perfect for festive sipping. Or, you know, you could always enjoy it in July—I won’t judge.

Cheers!

Overlord is here with a juicy bonus inside...

Hey all, AK Nevermore back with you! This month I'm here to tell you that if you're a fan of spicy dystopian romance and haven't started reading the Price of Talent Series in Kindle Unlimited, now's a great time to start, because book 4, Overlord, was just released, and at the back, there's a bonus novella, Conspirator.

About the Series...

On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…

About the Book..

Be careful what you wish for...

On an alternate earth, a cataclysm has altered a subset of the population. Talents are persecuted for their psychic and physical mutations, giving rise to two conflicting societies based upon maintaining genetic purity. And the Source, a shadowy corporate entity dependent upon the exploitation of captive Talents, is hunting them…

Twenty-eight years before the events in Breaker, Nora Jester will do anything to aid the Reunification of her people.

Dedicated to the clandestine movement to disenfranchise the Source and unite Talents from the North and South as one free people, conceiving a female heir to marry their two cultures together shouldn’t have involved her heart. But her feelings for the Commandant are undeniable, even three years after their disastrous breaking. When it becomes obvious he’s moved on and that there is something horribly wrong with their son, she agrees to try again.

But entering into a new contract with a broken heart is a recipe for disaster.

This time, the Alpha is nothing like the Commandant. Violent, jealous, and dominant, he’s unsympathetic to Nora’s angst, and brooks no rivals. Shackled to him for the next three months, she’s running out of time, because if she can’t survive his attentions long enough to conceive, the Reunification may never happen. The Source has turned its eyes North, and if there isn’t a child ready to lead the South in rebellion before the Harvest, there may not be any free Talents left.

Excerpt:

Nora closed her eyes, head throbbing beneath the glare of the harsh plaz lights. Why did it have to be so bright? The mirrored plex running the length of the breeding pod amplified the uncomfortable florescence, and if the walls facing them were any whiter, she’d go blind.

Not that there was much to see…for her, at least. The observers behind the plex were about to get a show, but all there was for her viewing pleasure was a bare mattress in the middle of a sterile room. Maintained at 76.3° Fahrenheit and a balmy sixty-two percent humidity; the Source’s breeding pods were touted as the optimal environment for lab-assisted copulation.

Assisted. Mandated. Semantics.

She shivered as she waited, vulnerable behind the thick curtain of mahogany curls hiding her nude form. How silly that a few millimeters of fabric over one’s skin could provide security. The illusion of it, at any rate. But then, outside of this, it was all an illusion, wasn’t it?

There was no security. This was the reality of her existence.

Not the fêtes, or the quiet days at the tower. Her binding skills ancillary to her primary purpose.

Breeding.

Her nails dug little half-moons into her palms as she fought to calm herself. Everything in here was monitored, measured. Her respiration and pulse. Oxygenation of her blood. Moisture content and saturation of her mucus membranes.

Nora’s eyes squeezed shut, exhaling a shaky breath. Calm. She didn’t need them spiking the room with Zanthium or another one of their mind-numbing aphrodisiac cocktails. She wanted to be present for this.

Glory, this.

It shouldn’t be like this. It was wrong—

Metal disengaged and her eyes snapped to the portlock.

It hissed open, and Marcos stepped through, tensing when he saw her face.

He knew.

She fought back tears, rising to meet him, her lips brushing beneath his jaw. Not caring how it looked to the ticket holders gathered behind the plex. Having to say it. To be the one to tell him. Her voice a thread of exhalation. “I’m pregnant.”

His fingers tightened on her hip, fear and loathing roiling through their bond as he pulled her closer. His breath hot on her skin, touch more ardent. Kisses deeper. She arched against him. Feeling him, his love. Everything that wasn’t safe to say.

Everything that was about to be taken away.

For the last time, she lost herself in him, and was brought back too soon.

He lay beside her, fingers tracing her face like he was trying to fix it in his memory. Would she see him again? Bitterness filled her. Across the room at a fête. Passing in a hallway. What they had now, gone. Ripped from them and assigned to another.

Their bond—broken.

It had been so unexpected…exhilarating and unwelcome…undeniable. Why did she have to love him? The thought of someone else’s hands on him, their fingers riffling through his honey blond hair… Would those crystalline blue eyes look at them the same way?

A sob choked her.

“Shh…” He pulled her against his broad chest, anger simmering deep inside him. Everything she was feeling, echoed and repressed. “Titus will send me south.”

Nora’s stomach dropped. Marcos was her first—her only—contract. She still wasn’t entirely certain how it all worked, aside from them being kept apart now that she was bred, and the inevitable breaking once the child was born. The legalese was confusing and no one liked to talk about the actual mechanics. “When will you come back?”

“They won’t recall me until our breaking is scheduled. Until then, I’ll do my duty, as will you.” It was a bald statement of fact, belied by what she felt from him. He was so controlled. Nothing like the animal she’d expected, been warned about, the depths to him… Her gut twisted, and he laced his fingers through hers.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered.

“Here it won’t.” He placed her palm over his heart. “You’ve marked me.”

Despair stabbed through her. “All of this is wrong. What they do to us—it shouldn’t—”

His lips stopped hers, then murmured against them. “Your passion is dangerous, Nora. For the both of us.” His eyes flicked to the mirrored plex.

An impotent rage filled her. She pushed him away. “I don’t care!”

He flipped her onto her back, and she slapped him. His eyes flew wide, a different kind of tension running through him, darkness licking at their bond. His breath came fast, pupils dilated. Fighting with something. Nora swallowed, afraid to move. And then like a cloud passing across the sun, it was gone.

His exhale was slow. “If they ever mate you to another Breaker, don’t do that. You’ll get hurt.”

“Nothing can hurt more than this.” She hoped she died when they broke their bond—

“Don’t tempt fate,” he said, kissing her. “As Beta, I’m entitled to a bellwether when I’m retired from field service. I swear I’ll earn the merits to request you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes again. Twenty years. If they granted it. If he didn’t die in some conflict—

If he didn’t promise the same to someone else.

Marcos nuzzled at her neck, his voice a rough whisper. “There will only ever be you…”

She smiled, their ability to read one another uncanny. She softened beneath his caresses, her calf sliding up the length of his thigh, breath catching as he rocked into her.

“Tell me you’d say yes…”

“Yes…” Her head dropped back, watching their reflections move together in the plex. Glory, in a different world…tears tracked down her temples.

The plaz lights pulsed, and Marcos’s pace sped. She gripped his shoulders, kissing him desperately as he spent himself.

The portlock rolled back. “Time.”

Marcos raised himself up on his forearms, breath heavy, licking the sweat from his lip. He caught the towel the tech threw into the room and met Nora’s eyes as he cleaned himself.

“Time won’t matter.”

Want more? Download the Breeder, the series prequel, for free here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/91ffk852qo

and get your copy of Breaker to start the series click here: https://books2read.com/BreakerOne

You can find out more about my books on my website, https://aknevermore.com/ or see what I'm up to on my sadly neglected socials:

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AK Nevermore enjoys operating heavy machinery, freebases coffee, and gives up sarcasm for Lent every year. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’s a certified chef, restores antiques, and dabbles in beekeeping when she’s not reading voraciously or running down the dream in her beat-up camo Chucks.

Unable to ignore the voices in her head, and unwilling to become medicated, she writes Science Fiction and Fantasy full time. 

AK pays the bills writing a copious amount of copy, along with a column on SFF. She belongs to numerous industry organizations, volunteers for far too many committees, teaches creative writing, and on the rare occasion, sleeps.

Writing Process...or the Lack of...

 

 

I've been writing books for years, and the stories and the motivation have always been there, unquestioned, just there. I relied on my ability to put ideas together, talk to my muse about character and plot development, and write what came to mind to fill in the details. My editors and readers have told me for years that they love the innovative twists in my books and that I create vivid and believable characters.

I usually write in the fall and winter, because in the spring and summer I spend a lot more time outdoors with my horse and in my garden, so I rarely sit down to create a new plot. However, I do take notes and string them together into a story when the days get shorter and the weather gets cold.

I started my latest work in progress in January 2024, and I haven't gotten past 40,000 words yet. Yes, the book is coming along in bits and pieces, and the adjustments I have made are good, but I still lack the spirit that has carried me through other stories and kept me going. I've devoted too much time to other hobbies, like reading and long walks in the woods, so I've fallen behind and can't get into the mood to write. I sit down, read what I have written so far and then... Some days a few scenes come to me and I write them down because writing something is better than writing nothing. I wouldn't call that progress in the true sense of the word. I would like to take a long vacation with the simple project of getting the book over the finish line. I don't see it yet.

If you as an author, editor or reader have any ideas for me on how to get back in the mood and find the push to write more often, I'd love to read them.

 

Here's a short excerpt from the last book I published, Dirty Work.

Nicolas tries to get a hold of the criminal who beat him before...

 

Nicolas’s world was reduced to a single goal—to catch Kruskov before he could get away again. He raced down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time and leaping over the railing at the end, completely focused on the silhouette that was the fence on the run. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the police officers. Their guns shone in the dim light of the streetlamps. Nicolas knew that no police officer would fire a shot when another one was in hot pursuit. The risk of shooting a colleague was far too high, and he was grateful that none of the young men in uniform were so high on adrenaline that they forgot that basic safety rule.

The officers cut off Kruskov’s route, leaving him with only one option—a ramshackle building that had once been built for business and law offices, but had long since fallen into disrepair. The fence pushed against the dilapidated metal door, kicked it open as he ran, and disappeared inside.

“See if there are other exits!” Nicolas shouted to the officers. “Don’t let him get away!” Then he was inside, breathing heavily, his legs quivering with strain. Streetlight fell through the broken windows, illuminating the scene. Homeless people had gathered the remaining furniture to live in, but also to light small fires. The stench of soot and burned plastic filled the air. To the left, Kruskov stumbled over something lying on the floor, and when he regained his footing, Nicolas was already on top of him, crashing with him into a pile of planks, crumbled partitions, and broken chairs. Kruskov grunted as Nicolas’s heavy body pinned him into the rubble, but tried to grab a leg of a stool to use as a weapon. They struggled for control of it, and Kruskov brought his knees up, pushing and shoving Nicolas backward. He lost the weapon but got back on his feet.

Nicolas grabbed Kruskov’s legs and forced the thug back to the ground. Kruskov raised his right leg and kicked back, aiming for Nicolas’s face, but hit his shoulder instead. Free again, he stumbled forward, away from his enemy. Nicolas lunged, but the distance was too great. Out of the rubble and back on his feet, Nicolas forced his legs to run again. Kruskov saw him coming and took a stance. His lips were skinned back from his teeth in a fierce snarl. This time Nicolas knew what to expect. He was fired with anger, determined not to be beaten again. As Kruskov swung his fist for a hook, Nicolas turned into the move and threw the thug over his shoulder, letting him crash to the ground only to be above him, pounding his fists into the man’s face and not giving him a chance to beat back.

It took Nicolas several seconds to see that Kruskov was unconscious. The fence’s head lolled to the side, his eyes closed. His face was battered and would feature all colors of the rainbow within a few hours. Blood trickled down from his nose and a wound to his cheekbone. Grimly satisfied, Nicolas sat back on his heels and wiped his nose. The dark room turned around him, and he waited a minute until he got up again.

From behind him, two officers entered through the back door or a broken window. He heard their careful footsteps crunch on the soiled floor. “Sir? Are you okay?”

“He’s out…out cold.” Nicolas put his hands on his thighs and took deep breaths. His right shoulder hurt where the heavy boot had hit him, but he enjoyed more than suffered the pain. “I…I’ll take him in for interrogation.”

“Are you all right?” Officer Gardner asked worriedly. “Did he hurt you?”

“He needs the medic,” Nicolas replied as he straightened. He judged from Gardner’s expression that he didn’t look like the victorious hero he felt he was. “I’m okay.”

* * *