Weekenders Romance Watch
Entertainers of the West Series Book 8
Genre: Historical Romance
Buy: Amazon
Blurb:
Dime novelist, Thora Alviss, travels to Montana Territory seeking an ex-US marshal, Harte Renwyck, for an interview, knowing he has knowledge to make her characters better. Harte shies from publicity about his past life, especially about the tragedy related to his last arrest. Thora’s thirst for a good story is stronger than her ability to remain out of danger, and Harte comes to the rescue time and again. Will Thora give up and return east, or will she learn the survival skills she’s been writing about? Can Harte look past his resentment and see the adventurous woman close at hand?
Enchanting Excerpt:
“I admit to being a bit travel weary and the assistance is much appreciated. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Nodding, she walked up the steps.
Lofty praise for being neighborly. When was the last time he’d had such pretty words aimed in his direction? Moving with the speed of Mercury, Harte vaulted the steps and rounded the corner of the depot office. A small mountain of luggage comprised of a portmanteau, two valises, two carpetbags, and a satchel squatted beside a wooden bench. His boots skidded to a stop. Looked like he’d be the one making multiple trips.
“Oh, dear.” She let out a sigh. “In New York City, the porter used a push cart, and the quantity didn’t pose such a problem.” She dashed forward and grabbed the satchel, lifting the long strap over her head so it rested on her opposite hip. Then she leaned over and reached for a carpetbag.
Not wanting her to strain anything, Harte moved to her side. “I offered, although I didn’t know you had so many pieces. But I’ll manage. Somehow.” For a man accustomed to traveling light, he couldn’t imagine what she packed inside all these cases.
Cheeks blushing, she straightened and turned her head, her neck stiff. “Deputy, I am a healthy woman perfectly capable of assisting with the transport of my own belongings.”
“Duly noted, miss.” His words came out more clipped than he intended. Years of dealing with criminals had stolen his ability for idle talk. Setting his jaw, Harte hoisted the portmanteau to balance on his left shoulder then stooped to grab the handles of the matching carpetbags. “If you lift the valise, I can stretch my fingers around the handle.” Barely, but for his pride’s sake, he needed to make the offer.
Bending over, she lifted both valises. “I’ve got them. Now, if you’ll indicate the direction, we’ll be on our way.”
The corner of the leather case dug into his shoulder, and his right hand already ached from the weight. “Head toward the brick building down a ways on the opposite side of the street. The boardinghouse is past the mercantile.” He trudged down the steps, each move jolting his shoulder muscles. The lady’s rigid posture and swishing bustle informed him she still resented his thoughtless remark. Not exactly how he envisioned his morning walk through Sweetwater Springs. Chivalry, my backside.
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