"This story is full of pleasant, fairy tale level surprises and rough, gritty twists true to Heather's style. I thoroughly enjoyed learning some real facts about ranchin', cowboyin', and bein' a lady in Wyoming." -- Melissa Ahlersmeyer
"The Johnson County War really happened, and Heather Blanton is adept at weaving history with fiction, with just the right amount of romance and humor thrown in! Looking forward to book 2 in this series!!" -- Amazon Reviewer
From the Inside Flap
She glanced at Lonnie eyeing her with that ever-present leer, and knew she couldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she fluffed her mutton sleeves and attempted to pull together a plan of some sort. She had to remain calm and rational if she wanted to have any hope of getting to Hardy. No matter where the ticket was taking her, she could get off early, in Wheaton perhaps. She'd managed to grab her reticule on the way out, and kept it hidden in the folds of her skirt. The purse contained some spending money. Not much, but she could sneak back into Chicago, take Hardy, and then they could seek refuge at Father Benetton's church...just until she could figure things out.
"Now, luv," Lonnie said, cleaning his nails with his pocket knife, "I'll explain to you 'ow this is going to work. The train ticket in my pocket," he patted his chest, "will take you all the way to Misery, Wyoming."
A twitch in Grace's eyebrow betrayed her reaction to the name.
"Yes, Bull picked the town out just for you, luv. Said he 'oped it delivered. Anyway, you will get off the train there and not before." He snapped the knife shut and leaned forward. "If you don' check in with Misery's lawman, luv, Hardy will be shipped off to some boarding school in Paris. Or maybe Rome. Possibly even Timbuktu. Do you take my meaning, luv?"
Grace's heart broke as the threat sank in. Her chin quivered and the lump in her throat tried to explode into a sob. Completely out of hope, she could do nothing but pray.
She prayed she would dance on Bull's grave one day soon.
Falling back on the loathing that Lonnie so readily evoked in her, Grace raised her chin. "Don't call me 'luv'."