Release date: February 26, 2018
Can the eldest MacDermott brother put his family trauma at the hands of the Logan gang aside once and for all to make room for love? Find out in the emotional and satisfying conclusion to this heartfelt series.
Sheriff Teague MacDermott’s life has been on hold since the Logan gang rode through Paradise Falls, killing and wounding his loved ones in an attempt to break one of their own out of jail. Now, four years later, he fears history is about to repeat itself as the last of the Logans is due to be released from prison and their ringleader vowed to return and put a bullet in his back. Teague has not forgotten Jeff Logan’s promise to return to Paradise Falls and put a bullet in his back. He failed to protect his family once; he cannot let Logan get anywhere near his niece—or the spirited, new-in-town reporter who has found her way into his heart, despite his better judgment.
In order to win a coveted position on her father’s newspaper, journalist Ryleigh Steele needs to write an in-depth story about how Sheriff MacDermott stopped the most notorious gang in Colorado. There’s just one problem—the enigmatic sheriff won’t open up to her, despite the growing attraction between them.
With Logan’s release from prison looming, they must make tough choices. Ryleigh wants the story and the sheriff, but she can’t have both. And Teague wants Ryleigh’s love, but accepting her into his life means putting her in Logan’s crosshairs. Can they risk it all for a brighter future together?
by Marie Patrick
“Readers will find both Teague and Ryleigh endearing, with their kind natures. A sweet and satisfying ending to the ‘MacDermott Brothers’ series.” — Library Journal
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Marie Patrick lives in beautiful, sunny Arizona, where inspiration to write historical romance is in every amazing sunset. Find Marie Patrick at www.mariepatrick.com and www.facebook.com/pages/Marie-Patrick, or email her at Akamariep@aol.com.
An excerpt from A Kiss in the Sunlight:
The stagecoach came around the bend in the road in a cloud of dust, the sound of wooden wheels turning over hard-packed dirt thunderous in the late afternoon quiet as Teague climbed up the first step of the Prentice’s wide wraparound porch. From this distance, he could see who handled the reins and who rode shotgun for the Double Eagle Stage Line―Pete Cummings and Bill Simms. He knew them well. Trusted them, too.
The dog followed him and sank to his haunches on the hard planks.
He stepped into the street as Pete pulled on the reins, leather harnesses creaking as he brought the vehicle to a rumbling halt. The door flung open while the stagecoach was still bouncing and rolling back and forth, and for a moment, the world around him dimmed as his gaze fell upon the tall, slim woman who stood in the doorway. She could be called nothing less than stunning, from her plum silk traveling outfit to the little hat on her head, perched at a jaunty angle atop her ebony hair. A purple feather curled from the top of the hat to her cheek and drew attention to her eyes.
He’d never seen eyes like hers. Slightly tipped upward at the corners and fringed with thick, dark lashes, they were a deep, rich violet blue, like the flowers his mother had grown in her garden. And right now, her eyes glimmered with excitement.
She was anxious, he supposed, to leave the close confines of the coach—too excited to wait for the retractable step to come down even though Bill started to jump from his seat atop the vehicle to do just that. If he hadn’t been completely captivated by her, Teague would have pulled the step down, but he wasn’t thinking. Wasn’t even breathing. He could only stare.
Pete threw down two soft-sided valises from the top of the coach, startling him as the goddess in the doorway took a step. Those eyes of hers opened wide as a startled “Oh!” escaped her, and she scrambled for purchase, realizing too late there was no step―just empty air below her foot.
Teague reached out for her, but she lost whatever precarious balance she had . . . and fell, face forward, right on top of him, with a very unladylike oomph.
Unprepared for the sudden weight of warm female in his arms, Teague fell to the ground as well, right on his back. The dog leaped from the step and started dancing around them, licking their faces and wherever else his tongue could reach. “Enough, Shotgun!” With one last swipe of his tongue, the dog settled himself on the ground beside them.
Teague couldn’t say he minded the woman falling on him all that much. Yes, he was in the dirt, and a knee had come perilously close to parts he may need at a later date. He also could have done without the dog kisses, but the woman was soft in all the right places, and she smelled like . . . peaches―fresh, ripe, delicious peaches.
“Goodness gracious! I’m so sorry!” A blush stained her smooth cheeks as she tried to climb off him, but her skirts were twisted around their legs. She squirmed a little more and actually managed to make progress, but then her foot slid on the hard-packed dirt, the heel of her shoe scraping along his boot-clad calf, and once again, she sprawled on top of him. This only served to tangle her skirts more, and in turn, force her knee closer to his body while oddly, pushing her cloth-covered breasts against his face. “Oh, dear!”
If she kept this up, he was going to suffocate . . . but oh, what a way to die. Still, dying hadn’t been in his plan today, despite how pleasant drawing his last breath would be at this moment.