The Saloon Girl's Only Shot
Can a charismatic saloon keeper convince a ruined barmaid he’s a sure bet?
True love is worth more than gold in this delightful followup to The Prospector’s Only Prospect.
Scandal has taught aspiring school teacher Temperance Goodrich to never trust a man. Stranded in lawless Denver City, she’ll do anything to earn enough to return home before winter–even work as a saloon girl. But entertaining rough men who are starved for female company isn’t easy, and time is running out.
When Owen Stames finally finds a claim that pays, he’s determined to prove the naysayers wrong and open his own saloon before the gold runs out. Too bad the sole vacant building is a former funeral parlor, and the only available employee is the prickly city girl who’s been fired from every bar in town.
Temperance is wary of Owen, especially when the accommodation he offers is a bed they must share. But when a brazen robbery nearly costs them everything, they realize they only have one shot at love… so they’d better take it.
250 Pages | 6.5 Hours | 78K words
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EXCERPT
“Owen.” The indent in his cheekbone was a dimple that winked as he suppressed a grin. He swallowed up her hand with his, making her pulse trip.
Don’t. She kept her expression nonchalant while he slowly released her, even though the slide of his fingertips against her palm seemed to reel her heart out of her chest, taking her breath with it.
She cleared her throat and dropped her hand into the folds of her skirt to surreptitiously erase the sensations.
“I assume you’re so well known because you’re a bible salesman?” she asked with faux innocence. He was the opposite of a church goer. He was walking temptation.
“Door to door, every day.” He didn’t miss a beat. “And you’re the new Sunday school teacher I’ve been hearing about?”
“What gave me away?” She resisted the urge to touch her hair or lick her lips, but she felt very self-conscious under his regard. Drawn. “Let me guess,” she tapped her lip, feigning contemplation. “Is it my obviously pious behavior?”
“More like, I could tell straight away that you’re a woman who will scold me into behaving myself.” He folded his arm on the bar, so his face was closer to hers.
Her stomach rose and fell as though she were in a carriage traveling over a dip in the road. She held his gaze a little too long, aware of the heat that tinted her cheeks. Aware that he could not only see it; he understood it.
“Those bibles must be heavy,” she said with a very deliberate drag of her gaze to his muscled shoulders and upper arms.
“Not as heavy as my conscience. Care to save me from my sins?”
“If it were Sunday, I would be in a position to help you atone.” She batted her lashes, allowing that word ‘position’ to linger between them. She held his gaze until her heart nearly battered itself out of her chest. “Being a Thursday, I can only offer holy water and a collection plate.” She slid her gaze to her tin tray.
“Ha.” He dropped a half dollar onto it with a clink. “I’ll take salvation where I can find it.”
“I thought you were delivering.” She cocked her head.
“I deliver,” he assured her with a confidence that gave her that slippery, out-of-control sensation again. “Have you not found it here?” His lashes tangled together as he looked through them at her. “When did you arrive?”
“About an hour ago.”
His mouth twitched. “In Denver,” he clarified.
“Recently.” She was deliberately cryptic to keep him intrigued.