PBG Christmas Titles: A Cowboy Christmas and Lea's Gift (Tanya Stowe & Delia Latham)

A Cowboy Christmas

A mom on the run. A special child and her “imaginary” friend. A cowboy. And God. Heart’s Haven is at it again…

Layne Mabrey is on the run.

Her ex-husband wants to have six-year-old Chloe institutionalized, but Layne will go to any lengths to keep her Down's Syndrome child.

Dex Beckett falls immediately in love with both Layne and Chloe, but Layne can't afford to get close to anyone—not even the shy, gentle cowboy next door. She and Chloe have to be ready to run…again.

Concerned that Chloe's sudden creation of an imaginary friend could be used to substantiate her father’s claims, Layne is shocked when Dex offers an unbelievable opinion about the child’s invisible visitor. But there's more to Heart's Haven than meets the eye. Is it possible a Christmas miracle awaits Layne and Chloe on the Heart's Haven Angel Tree?

#6 - 2013 Preditors & Editors Readers' Poll

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Excerpt:

Prologue

They waited, their breath forming little cloudy bursts in the chilly air.

From inside, the unmistakable sounds of celebration gave her pause, and Layne gasped,  horrified, when she remembered the date. February fourteenth. Why hadn’t she stopped to consider that Andrew Hart might be entertaining on Valentine’s Day? It was, after all, a special, much-anticipated holiday for most people. Not for her though, and she hadn’t given the possibility a single thought.

She grabbed Chloe’s hand. With any luck, her half timid knock hadn’t been heard in the midst of all the frivolity, and she could sneak away with no one the wiser. But, as usual,  her luck wasn’t that good. The door opened to reveal an older man with deep grooves around his mouth and crow’s feet crinkling his eyes. Andrew Hart, of course. The man who owned the complex of rental cottages, one of which Layne hoped would soon be home to her and her little girl.

The somber fellow looked a little stiff and uncomfortable in impeccable dress-up clothing. In a moment of crystal clarity, Layne knew he donned this type of attire only on rare occasions, and with great reluctance. Every white hair lay slicked into place, but a slight groove in the severely tamed strands told its own tale. Layne bit her lip, amused to find herself seeing the man in a battered old fishing hat, or possibly a baseball cap, and maybe worn overalls. Somehow she thought he’d be right at home in that kind of casual get-up.

“Yes?” The gravelly voice drew her up short, and she realized she’d been staring. Even Chloe, her little brow furrowed, gazed up into Layne’s face, clearly confused by her failure to extend a quick greeting.

“I’m so sorry to intrude…I can see you’re entertaining.”

“That’s not a problem.” His vivid blue gaze dropped to Chloe, and he winked. “Well, hello there! Why don’t you two ladies come on inside where it’s warm?”

“Oh, no, we can’t.” Layne shook her head. “In fact, please go back to your guests. We’ll come again tomorrow. I only wanted to inquire about your cottages, and it can wait until then.”

Even as she spoke, a man stepped from behind her and onto the porch. He was tall—so tall that he seemed to loom over them. Chloe stepped close and hid her face in her mother’s coat as she always did when she was frightened. The stranger wore a plaid shirt, cowboy boots and hat, jeans, and chaps complete with fringe dangling on the sides.

Taken aback by his cowboy garb, it took Layne a moment to realize he, too, had asked about one of the available units. Mr. Hart handed them both applications and made appointments for the next day, then bid all three visitors a polite good night. The tall stranger gave Layne a shy smile then walked away, his spurs jangling.

Chloe peeked out from behind her. “I want jingle shoes, Mommy.”

The cowboy paused then turned around and headed back with a stride that could only be called intimidating. Chloe wrapped her arms around Layne’s leg in a grip that would have choked her if it’d been around her throat.

Layne reached down to reassure her and stiffened.

With Chloe’s face no longer hidden, the man would get a good look at her little girl. She braced herself for the reaction that always came when people saw her daughter’s round face and slightly upturned eyes. Usually they became speechless because they didn’t know how to treat a child with Down Syndrome, or they forgot their manners and stared. Layne’s instincts switched into full mama-lion mode, prepared for either response from the long-legged stranger.

Instead, he dropped to a crouch and tipped his large cowboy hat back, giving Chloe a clear view of his face. He waited silently until she peeked at him again. Then he turned one boot to the side so she could see the spur.

“Look here, little one.” His voice had a pleasant timbre, deep and smooth.  “It’s not my shoes makin’ that jingle bell sound. It’s this silver thing.” He smiled, and Layne caught her breath at its sweetness. “See? It’s called a spur. You wear ‘em when you ride horses. But I never let mine hurt the animals.” He tilted his head and drew his brows together. “Do you like horses?”

Chloe’s beautiful, blonde, corkscrew ponytail swung rapidly back and forth as she shook her head.

“No?” The man kept his voice low and comforting. “That’s too bad. ‘Cause I happen to know horses love little girls like you.”

Layne’s hackles rose, and she started to ask exactly what he meant by “little girls like her,” but Chloe spoke first, with her slight lisp. “How do you know they like little girls?”

Once again, Layne was shocked into silence. Her daughter never talked to strangers, especially men.

The cowboy’s brilliant white smile stood out on his tanned face. “Why, ‘cause they told me so.”

Lea's Gift

At twenty-one, Lea Dale is well-adjusted and happy, despite the facial scars she's carried since infancy. She has friends in high places (with a connection to angels); possesses colorful vision (since for some reason she can see auras around folks); and her family and friends adore her.

Corrective surgery is a possibility, but not one Lea has felt the need to consider…until wealthy investor Laren Meadows walks into her life and turns it upside down. Suddenly, Lea is painfully conscious of her lack of perfection, given Laren's flawless looks and ultra-charming personality. What a blessing that he's attracted to her despite her scars—and even her special angel seems to approve of the match.

Then a secret from Laren's past threatens to destroy any hope of a future for the two of them. Now there's only one way for Lea to know if Laren's love is true, but taking that action could mark the end of their relationship.

Can love survive such a tangled mess of physical and emotional scars?

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Excerpt:

I woke up this morning the same Lea Dale I’ve been all my life...a scarred but completely happy girl who talks to angels and tries to find some good in everybody. My besties, Eva Kate and Savannah, say I’m a bit of a Pollyanna, but that’s okay. I like being who I am.

Or at least, I did until now.

Probably should have known things were going to get sticky when my old friend Solomon showed up just as I finished getting ready for the day and headed for my bedroom door. I was already running a little late, and had a feeling Auntie Shay—that’s my mom’s beautiful sister, who once was a famous actress—would be wondering where I was.

I spun away from the bathroom mirror after doing what I could to make myself presentable, and rounded the corner into my bedroom, rushing to grab my tote before heading off to work. For me, that means walking down a little hill just east of my parent’s house and showing up at Looking Glass Ranch, my family’s therapeutic campground for scarred and disfigured teens. It’s been going strong since I was a kid, and I never questioned whether I’d be a part of its operation as an adult—I always knew it was what I wanted to do. But, family-operated or not, I’m expected to be there every day, and on time, just like everyone else. Most of the time, I am, but I’d been up really late the night before, getting my Christmas list together. I’m a real stickler for lists and plans and schedules. Orderliness is important to me.

So I’d overslept a little and the crystal clock on a wall shelf in my bathroom said I should’ve been down the hill five minutes ago. I jammed around the corner at full blast and nearly barreled smack into Solomon, who reached out to steady me without saying a word.

“Solomon!” I shrieked and rushed over for a hug. It’d been at least a year since his last visit, and it was nice to see that he still looked exactly the same. He wore a long white robe, sashed at the waist with a shiny belt that gleamed like real gold. Maybe it is gold, I don’t know. His sandals match the belt, but then, so do his eyes, and his hair, which hangs past his shoulders and flows freely around his face.

He’s beautiful. Oh…did I mention that Solomon’s an angel? He’s the first of God’s winged messengers I ever met, and the only one who seems to be a permanent fixture in my life. It’s not like he’s an everyday part of things, but he shows up now and then, when there’s a reason. I love him with a very special, holy kind of love. He’s never said it, but I’m pretty sure Solomon loves me, too.

“Lea.” Solomon’s smile is rare, but it always fills me with an amazing joy, and makes me want to do something to make someone else feel that same way. “I am happy to see you, young friend.”

“Me, too!” I bounced up and down on my tiptoes like a child, so excited to see him. Why hadn’t I realized how long it had been, and how much I missed my friend? Then I remembered that Solomon never shows up “just because.” Maybe I should dampen the enthusiasm until I had the skinny on his reason for being there. “Um…is something wrong?”

He shook his head, and the gentle movement of silky hair made me never want to look away. It’s beauty can be mesmerizing. “No, child. I bring good news.”

“Really?” I grinned. This was turning out to be the best kind of visit. “So tell me already.”

“I will.” He reached out with one long finger and touched my cheek. The left one, with all the scars. “You’ve seen a lot in your lifetime, Lea Dale. Much pain, but a great deal of joy, as well. You’ve been happy when others received special blessings of love and happiness, prosperity, and success.”

I shrugged. “I’d be a pretty awful person otherwise, wouldn’t I?”

Solomon shook his head. “Few people on this earth are able to truly be happy when good things happen to others. Most humans harbor at least some small measure of envy. But not you, Lea. Your selflessness is pleasing to the Master.”

“Well, I’m glad. I want to please the Lord.”

“You do. And now, Lea, it’s your turn.”

Sometimes Solomon spoke in circles, or just slightly above my head. “My turn?” I had no clue what he meant. “What do you mean?”

He smiled again, and my heart jumped with pure joy, which I deliberately put a lid on for the moment. I wanted to understand Solomon’s message. His being here meant something big was in the air.

“It’s your turn to be blessed, Lea. Your life is about to change, starting today.”

Now my heart jumped with something other than joy. Change has never been my favorite thing, and a little ball of uneasiness bounced around in my tummy like a kitten on catnip. “Ch- change? How?”

“Do not fear. The Father wants only the best for you. But you must accept His gift with your whole heart and be willing to risk the comfort of the familiar to find your way to something new and better.”

“New and better.” I murmured the repetition of his words, while my heart hammered like crazy. Why new and better? The status quo was working just fine for me.

About the Authors:

Delia Latham (left) and Tanya Stowe (right)

TANYA STOWE is an author of Christian Fiction with an unexpected edge. She fills her stories with the unusual...gifts of the spirit and miracles, mysteries and exotic travel, even an angel or two. No matter where Tanya takes you...on a journey through time from the Old West to contemporary adventures in foreign lands...be prepared for the extraordinary.

Writing Heaven's touch into earthly tales, DELIA LATHAM puts her characters through the fire of earthly trials to bring them out victorious by the hand of God, His heavenly messengers, and good, old-fashioned love. You'll always find a touch of the divine in this author's sweet tales of romance.

Delia Latham (a word crafter) and Tanya Stowe (a storyteller) combine their special gifts to create heartwarming Christian romance chock-full of inspiration, emotional challenges,thought-provoking dilemmas, happy-ever-after romance--and the brush of angels' wings.

New Release: Autumn Falls (Paradise Pines, #3)

I can't believe I forgot!

I had a book release on the 1st...and I've been so busy I didn't even think to raise a noise about it. My very bad! lol 

Anyway, AUTUMN FALLS is now available on Amazon. Yay! So excited. This is Book 3 in the 4-book Paradise Pines series. Just one more remaining...Winter Wonders, which will release November 10th, and is available for pre-order now.

I'll be giving a FREE electronic copy of Autumn Falls to someone who leaves a comment below. The winner will be chosen at random through random.org. Winner will be announced on Wednesday, Sept. 10. Be sure to leave your email address in your comment, so I can send your book if you're the winner.

Autumn Warren and her friend Cecily determine to have one last hurrah before the crazy whirl of planning Ceci’s wedding. Autumn reluctantly agrees to lay off the barbed comments about her friend’s imminent move to Italy—for no better reason than that she fell in love!—and the girls rent an apartment at Cambria’s Paradise Pines Lodge for the entire fall season.

Autumn’s agreement to silence her outraged protests in no way indicates a change of heart about letting a man into her own life. She’s watched enough friends get married and divorced to sour her forever on the subject of love and the sanctity of marriage. If she ever does fall in love, it’ll be forever…and she's seen absolutely zero evidence of that kind of devotion even existing. Autumn doesn’t believe in divorce, and given the current statistics, why even risk it?

Then she meets Russ Amundsen and his adorable daughter, DeLyn, and finds herself in danger of losing her carefully guarded heart. And what is it about the mysterious Miss Angelina Love—who may or may not own Paradise Pines—that makes Autumn believe her heart never stood a chance once she set foot inside the lodge?

Purchase links:

Amazon

Pelican Book Group

Here's a peek inside:

1

AUTUMN WARREN COVERED BOTH EARS with her hands and gave her head a vehement shake. Bright auburn hair went wild, wrapping long tendrils around her neck and over her face. She swept it out of her eyes with an impatient flick of one wrist.

“Take it back, Ceci!” She stomped one booted foot and crossed her arms like a pouty child.

Cecily Adams rolled a pair of stunning violet eyes. “Honey, you can be so dramatic sometimes.”

Autumn dropped backward into the cushy softness of her sofa. Her rear hit the cushion and sank in. She wished for an old-fashioned couch with springs. In moments like this, she needed to bounce when she landed.

With characteristic grace, Cecily sat down on a wingback chair.

Autumn’s best friend since kindergarten, partner in all manner of crime, her soul sister, with whom she’d made a solemn pact to never be suckered into the whole love-and-marriage fiasco. “You can’t be serious, Ceci! ’Fess up. You’re kidding, right?”

“Autumn. Why would I kid about this? I love Gabe. I’m going to marry him, and move to his family’s estate in Italy. I’m ecstatic, and I refuse to apologize for having found my soul mate. Honey, won’t you just try to be happy for us? Please?”

“But—" Autumn pounded the cushion with one fist. “Ceci, you and I, we’re…we’re not getting married. Ever. Love is a crock, remember? It isn’t real.”

Her friend got up, kicked off her expensive heels and joined Autumn on the sofa, where she pulled both bare feet up under her. Wrapping one arm around Autumn’s stiff shoulders, she tugged her closer and nestled their heads together, mixing shiny, coal-black strands with vibrant auburn ones.

“Life hasn’t been easy on us, has it, Autie? I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t been there.”

Autumn relaxed against her friend and blinked back tears. She couldn’t decide whether those would-be tears were more angry or scared-to-bits, but whichever they were; she refused to let them fall.

Ceci’s two-hundred-dollar perfume tickled her senses, and Autumn breathed it in, relishing the soft hints of jasmine and lotus, completely forgetting to pull her usual gagging pretense. Gabe-The-Italian-Hunk was stealing Ceci away, taking her halfway around the world, where she’d become part of a whole new culture. Autumn might not enjoy teasing Ceci about her perfume for years and years…and years.

She choked back a giggle at her own over-the-top exaggeration. This was not a time for laughter. This was a time to make Ceci feel guilty. Maybe even guilty enough to change her mind and stay here in the good old USA, where she belonged.

Autumn enacted an elaborate mental eye roll.

What’s so great about living in stupid Italy, anyway? Italian food, Italian this and that and the other thing. And what’s the big deal about catching the attention of a disgustingly perfect man who treats the woman he loooooves like some kind of royalty? Hmph!

She and Ceci had been each other’s lifelines. How could her friend forget that?

Both sets of parents had gone through ugly divorces while the girls were in elementary school. Cecily’s dad married again the next year and left his new, younger wife just before their second anniversary—this time for a woman-child, barely out of high school. Autumn’s mother followed pretty much the same pattern through two more husbands. Thank goodness her dad kept his sanity. She’d have gone bonkers if both parents went over the edge.

Through it all, Cecily and Autumn, crushed and confused, leaned on each other. They processed their parents’ shenanigans through bright, active, developing little brains. And they learned.

Other than a brief attachment here and there, both girls made it through high school without a major broken heart. Few of the immature young males who tried and failed to gain their attention could compete with the bond that had developed by then—a bond of shared sorrows, joys, heartaches and happiness. An unwavering attachment created in the proverbial “school of hard knocks.”

During college, they were bridesmaids at the weddings of several mutual friends. Beautiful, showcase nuptials that cost thousands of dollars each. Despite the exorbitant monetary investment, not one of those unions lasted much longer than the elaborate ceremonies that never should have happened. Another friend’s marriage dissolved, leaving their college pal expecting a baby and drowning in tears and heartache.

Autumn and Cecily had met at a favorite restaurant, clinked their glasses together and vowed to never let themselves believe in love and never to allow that fickle emotion to break their hearts and ruin their futures. There’d be no little rug rats playing around their feet with no one to call “daddy.” They’d be smarter than their friends, wiser than their parents. Men, love, marriage, and heartbreak—they’d be fine without any of those things.

That was six years ago, and up until now they’d both stuck to their anti-matrimonial guns and kept themselves clear of the fallout that always followed emotional commitments.

But Autumn saw the writing on the wall the first time she laid eyes on Gabriel Brett—or rather, the first time he and Ceci laid eyes on each other.

On a weekend getaway to Napa Valley, Autumn and Ceci had stopped in at a wine-tasting room. Autumn wasn’t a wine lover, but Ceci had a genuine taste for “the good stuff.” In Ceci-speak, “good stuff” meant expensive.

The facility was hosting a celebrity vigneron—a man whose family owned the most lucrative vineyards and wineries in Italy. The Vineyard Room put on an impressive public shindig for their guest of honor.

Ceci sampled a couple of chardonnays, while Autumn enjoyed a nice white grape sparkling cider. They’d wandered through the gift shop and then carried their glasses to a small table in a back corner, where they could people-watch.

When Gabriel Brett entered the room, he made no attempt to showcase himself. The man possessed the kind of presence that demanded attention. He’d smiled and nodded to one wine-lover and then another as he strolled across the floor. And then his gaze locked on Ceci’s.

For Autumn, as an unwilling and decidedly antagonistic observer, it was like something out of those sappy old movies she hated—the ones where the hero and heroine gravitate toward one another, their hearts in their eyes and hopelessly lost in each other before a single word is spoken.

Unbelievable. Unrealistic. Unadvised and unwanted.

That Napa getaway was the beginning of the end for Autumn and Cecily’s pact to never marry. Ceci might be the princess of propriety and the goddess of grace, but she was also the sultana of stubborn. Once she decided to give Gabe a chance, nothing short of a tornado could’ve stopped her.

“We said we wouldn’t do this,” Autumn whined against her friend’s shoulder. “Love never lasts, remember? Ceci! He’s a man. He’ll break your heart.”

“Oh, Autie. He won’t. I know he will never hurt me. As much as I doubted it before, I believe it now. This is real, honey. I love Gabe with all my heart. I’m not even me when I’m not with him. And he loves me in that same crazy, makes-no-sense, unbelievable manner.” She gave Autumn’s hand a warm squeeze. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, sweetie. My sister—the best one I never had. Can’t you…please…try to be happy for us?”

Be happy for them? No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Gabe’s perfect good looks were lethal to any woman within a country mile, but Cecily was supposed to be smart enough to see through all that, and to withstand his all-too-potent Italian charisma.

“I can try,” she muttered. “But seriously, Ceci…Italy?”

Cecily laughed that soft, musical trill that always brought a smile to Autumn’s face.

“Come on, you had to know that if I ever fell, it would be for someone utterly sensational…and exotic…and perfect, right? Now where, around here, would I find someone like that?”

“You wouldn’t, and I wish you hadn’t.”

“Autumn! That’s just…mean.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She hugged her friend, but couldn’t quite dredge up a real smile.

“Does that mean you’ll be my maid of honor?”

“Maybe.” Autumn pinned the other woman under a narrow-eyed gaze. “But you have to do something for me first.”

Ceci’s eyes widened, and Autumn grinned. Ahh, sweet revenge! “You just went a shade paler than usual.”

“Yeah, well, I know you. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I will. What’s your condition?”

“One last hurrah.”

“What does that mean?”

“Spend the summer with me, while Gabe is in Florence ‘tying up loose ends.’” She rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help it. “I’ve been checking out this place on the Central Coast, in Cambria—Paradise Pines. From what I’ve gathered, it used to be an old fishing lodge. Now it’s kind of a quasi-inn, I guess. Someone turned the upper floor into a large rental apartment. The owner or manager or—I don’t know, whoever runs the place, lives on the ground floor. They only have one guest or set of guests at a time, and they rent that upstairs apartment for the entire season or not at all.” She bit at her bottom lip and gave Cecily the puppy-dog look that always worked. “Let’s see if we can get it for the fall season. It’s our last chance before you run off to be Italian.”

Ceci shrugged. “Sounds like the place might be hard to get, especially last-minute like this. But sure, go ahead and try. If you can make it happen, we’ll go—but I have a condition too.”

“What’s that?” Autumn couldn’t stop bouncing up and down, grinning like a fool. She really had to incorporate a couch with springs somewhere in her place.

“If we go, you’ll leave all the snarky barbs—about Gabe, about love, about marriage—right here at home. I’m not going off on a season-long trip where I have to listen to your negativity all the time.”

“Oh, come on, Ceci, you’re being—“

Cecily raised one hand and both dark, wing-shaped eyebrows. “That’s the agreement. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. I’ll play nice—if I can get that reservation.”