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  • N. N. Light
    • Sep 12
    • 4 min read

Prairie Fire by Terri Branson is a Fall Into These Great Reads pick #westernromance #pnr #paranormalromance #fallreads #giveaway

 


TITLE:

Prairie Fire

 

AUTHOR:

Terri Branson

 

GENRE:

Western Romance / Paranormal Romance

 

BOOK BLURB:

 

Chloe plans to stay only a short time at her brother Joe's ranch in 1893 Oklahoma Territory. Despite her efforts to avoid Joe's matchmaking schemes, she is soon entangled in them. At the same time, she catches the interest of a nosy and possibly dangerous ghost called Fire Horse. All Max McKee wants is to buy a few horses. Before he realizes it, he becomes part of Joe's scheme to marry off the rich and lovely Chloe, who happens to be the owner of those horses. Max is a man with many secrets. Despite the risks, he finds Chloe irresistible. When a series of strange fires spooks the local ranchers, Chloe and Max must work together to discover who is setting those fires and try not to get themselves killed in the process.

 

EXCERPT:

 

Something lodged in the back of Chloe's throat. She wasn't sure if it was dust or fear or maybe a mixture of both.

 

The tall rider reined around that strawberry roan and headed straight for the depot. From what she could see of his demeanor, he did not appear to be pleased.

 

As the distance closed between them, Chloe got a better look at this stranger who had been arguing with Billy. He sat easy in a well-worn saddle, a tall, long-legged rider with wide shoulders and a soft touch on the reins. His cream-colored duster flapped in the sporadic wind and slapped at the haunches of the big roan. A sweat-stained hat remained steady on his head. Sunlight glinted off the pistol holstered on his left hip and skittered along the polished wooden stock of the rifle sheathed near the back of the saddle.

 

He reached the depot and dismounted, his boots stirring up a cloud of dust. After tying leather reins to a hitching ring, he vaulted onto the platform. Well-worn boots made rhythmic progress across creaky wooden planks.

 

Stopping in front of Chloe, he nudged his hat upward just enough to reveal an unusually handsome face. A day's growth of whiskers was dark but not particularly thick for a man of his age, which Chloe guessed was somewhere in the early to mid-thirties. His nose was fairly straight and not too long. Gray eyes held curious speckles of green. Dark brown hair, long and thick, was tied back with a strip of leather. Canvas jeans molded to long legs and hugged the ankles of dusty riding boots. His right hand cupped over a trim hip, while his left hand fingered the handle of a holstered pistol she now recognized as a .45-caliber Peacemaker.

 

Chloe had never seen anything look so good and so dangerous at the same time. An embarrassing throb settled deep in her lap and she felt her cheeks tingle from a tell-tale flush. The mere presence of a man had never moved her like this.

 

"Are you Chloe?" His voice was husky, his words rife with western tones.

 

"Yes," she choked out, cringing just a little beneath the brim of her hat.

 

"The name's Max McKee. Your brother owns the spread west of mine." He adjusted his hat in a gesture that suggested nervousness, and one boot pawed at the rough wood platform. "I think we have a little misunderstanding."

 

Joe hadn't bothered to mention that Maxwell McKee was as handsome as the day was long. She hoped Frank Hilden wasn't this attractive, else her resolve might desert her and she would never make it to San Francisco.

 

Realizing she had been staring at the man for more than a polite amount of time, Chloe blinked dry eyes and rolled her gloved fists in her lap. "I'm sorry, Mr. McKee. Did you say something about a misunderstanding?"

 

"Yes, Ma'am." Max cleared his throat and ran tanned fingers along the handle of that intimidating pistol. "I just spoke with Billy Compton. Ma'am, there's something we need to get straight."

 

Chloe winced at the angry clip of his words. "And what would that be, Mr. McKee?"

 

"To be blunt, Ma'am, I wasn't expecting you."

 

"Nor I you," Chloe said.

 

BUY LINKS (including Goodreads and BookBub):

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s your favorite thing about autumn? 

 

After hot and humid summers on an Oklahoma farm, tending cattle and gardening and filling barns with haybales for the coming winter, the cool winds and rains of autumn were welcome. It was a time when things slowed down and insects trilled on cool nights.

 

What inspired you to write this story?

 

I grew up on a 360-acre farm in central Oklahoma and for several years lived with my great-grandparents, who were both born in 1893. Tales of the Old West were daily consumption in their house. Grandma gardened and cooked, while Granddad tended the cattle and farm. Of course, I helped with chores and learned in the process. Granddad, who had been a cowboy in his youth, had a never-ending well of stories Both had old friends who lived nearby in old log cabins refitted with minimal electricity and no running water other than hand-pumps for the wells. Having learned about the Old West from firsthand accounts, I wanted to write a story that would make all of them proud.

 

Giveaway –

 

One lucky reader will win a $100 Amazon gift card.

 

 

Open internationally.

 

Runs September 1 – 30, 2024

 

Drawing will be held on October 1, 2024.

 

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY:

 

Terri Branson is an author, an editor, a graphics artist, and a website designer. After earning an associate degree in math and science, she turned to the studies of creative writing and graphic design. As well as dabbling in photography, she creates graphics for books, websites, coloring books, and more. She has sold articles on the craft of writing and conducted writing workshops. Publications include adult coloring books, children's books, fantasy, non-fiction, romance, and science fiction.

 

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

 

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N. N. Light
N. N. Light
12. sep.

Thank you, Terri, for sharing your book in our Fall Into These Great Reads Bookathon!

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