Wild West bounty hunter Charlie Mckenzie and Eastern finishing school educator Elizabeth Cameron were children together, separated by society's demands. When a serial killer stalks them both, their reunion is complicated by Elizabeth's distaste for Charlie's profession and unexpected desire blazing between them. Distracted by Elizabeth, torn between love and fear, can Charlie protect her, himself and the only home either has ever known?

Coming soon from Awe-Struck Publishing

Excerpt:

Other than the woman in the corner and Daniel Gregg behind the ticket counter, the waiting room was empty. Frowning, Charlie crossed the expanse of bare floor between the benches, addressing the stationmaster behind his barred window. “Evenin’, Dan. You get any lady passengers in on the one o’clock? I’m expecting somebody.”

 Mr. Gregg nodded at the female Charlie passed by without a second glance. Charlie stared at the stationmaster without comprehension. Gregg repeated the silent nod. Pivoting slowly on one boot heel, Charlie fixed his gaze on the woman and surveyed her thoroughly, up and down.

 Mourning dove, was his first impression. She was covered in gray from her stiff scoop bonnet to the tips of her shoes, without ribbons, braid, lace or ornamentation of any kind. She seemed in some distress, slumped on the backless bench, gloved hands twisting the doo-dads in her lap. She stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

 Lizzie? Oh, hell no.

 Nice enough figure, the detached, ceaselessly humming male component of Charlie’s brain assessed. Hides it under all the gray stuff. Long, slender hands; clear, pale skin. Nice cheekbones. Good teeth. His eyes narrowed on her stunned expression. Maybe not too bright.

 Maybe this woman was some sort of paid companion. Maybe she accompanied Lizzie for at least part of her journey. But where, then, was Lizzie? Charlie glanced swiftly again around the room, at Gregg, back to the silent woman. Was Lizzie stranded somewhere up the railroad line? Was she ill, injured, out of funds? Had she been abducted, raped, murdered, for God’s sake?

 Charlie felt his face draw into a scowl. He knew too damn well the dangers faced by any unescorted female, traveling without male protection. He took a step toward the woman, fists clenching involuntarily. Where the hell is she? he wanted to shout.

 As if in response to his silent demand, the mourning dove abruptly stiffened her spine and snapped her mouth shut. Her grip shifted on her things; one hand smoothed her skirts in a purely feminine defensive gesture. Her chin went up, and she returned Charlie’s intense gaze with cool appraisal. Countering his initial assessment, clear intelligence and open hostility sparked from almond shaped eyes under straight dark brows.Long, equally dark lashes swept down, fanned flushed cheeks and rose again, revealing nothing. Just that quickly, the transformation was complete. The dove became a raptor: smoothly powerful, poised to stoop, and pity the poor heedless prey in her merciless grasp.

 “God almighty,” Charlie breathed. “Lizzie?”