Artist's Rendering of Davidson Smythe:

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Reviews:

"Even if you haven't read the first two books of this series, you'll still enjoy Admirand's enticing, seductive and tantalizing plot." -- 4 Stars ~ HOT ~ Faith V. Smith, RT BookReviews

"The Old West comes alive in this heartfelt tale of love and second chances." - Joy Nash, USA Today Bestselling Author

"With Romance that boils over with heat, action that has bullets flying at every turn and characters with grit, Pearl's Redemption envelopes readers in the romance of the west." -- 5 Spurs, Carol, LWR Book Reviews

"Heart warming, heart wrenching, and heart pounding--PEARL'S REDEMPTION is western historical romance at its best." -- 5 Blue Ribbons, Natasha, Romance Junkies "Pearl’s Redemption is the kind of story that makes you forget all about what genre it is and focus on the story itself – the plot, the characters... Everything worked." -- 5 Klovers, Jennifer A. Ray, CK2s Kwips & Kritiques

"Here is a story that will curl your toes. Strong and believable characters stand up against blood-thirsty opponents, each one well described and developed. This author knows how to hook readers from page one and gives the main characters many obstacles to overcome. You will not find yourself growing bored while you read this story. Superb! " -- 5 Stars, Detra Fitch, Huntress Reviews

"Get ready for a powerful and sexy Western romance with a feisty heroine determined to protect those she loves. Add a tough hero with a dark past and you have a romance that doesn't let you go." -- Christina Skye, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Excerpt:

"Smythe!"

The marshal’s voice sounded clipped, hard. He was still angry with her, but she’d gotten her way and would be allowed to speak to the prisoner. She waited for the marshal to step back so she could see through the opening in the door and into the small room beyond.

It was worse than she imagined. No one had removed the soiled straw from the stall. They’d simply swept it to one side and left it there. Shame filled her, thinking of this wellspoken, proud man reduced to cooling his heels in such a place. The town’s other jail had been brand new, the cells furnished with a cot, a warm bedroll, and a bucket in the corner. But a few sticks of dynamite and a truly evil gang of outlaws had destroyed the jail.

She looked over at the marshal and shuddered. The temporary setup was not even close to being a decent jail, but this was the best they could do until a new one could be built.

"It’s about time you came back—"

Davidson Smythe stopped mid-sentence and stared at her. Pearl felt every drop of spit in her mouth dry up. A few days’ worth of whiskers covered his angular jaw, and there were dark rings under his eyes. She hadn’t noticed them before.

Warm brown eyes focused on her. She shifted from one foot to the other under the man’s intense scrutiny. What was he looking at? She followed the direction of his gaze and looked down.

"Where the hell are your shoes?"

What was it with men and her bare feet?

The marshal answered for her. "Long story. Smythe, Miss Pearl has a few questions for you, and I’d be obliged if you’d answer them."

Smythe straightened to his full height. My, he was a tall one, a few inches taller than the marshal. Pearl’s gaze noted the width of the stranger’s shoulders, which caused a hitch in her breathing. She’d always been a sucker for a man with broad shoulders. Not that she’d be doing anything about it, but there was no law against noticing. Well the committee probably had one.

"Pearl?"

Her gaze slid over to the marshal’s. He nodded, obviously thinking she’d lost her nerve about confronting the man claiming to have purchased her ranch. If only he knew. She’d been wondering just how heavily muscled Mr. Smythe’s chest would be beneath the cotton shirt he wore. Lord above, her fingers itched to find out.

"Um . . . Mr. Smythe, may I take another look at your papers?"

Smythe looked at the marshal, waited a beat, and finally turned back to her. "You’ll have to ask the marshal. He said he needed them for evidence."

She narrowed her eyes and glared at the lawman. "Do you mean to tell me you’ve had them all along?"

The lawman met her glare for glare. "You didn’t ask if I had them. You said you wanted to ask Smythe a few questions." He paused, then added, "I’d only just got my hands on them."

She closed her eyes and silently prayed for patience. These two hardheaded men would certainly see the end of it if the Lord didn’t intervene and grant her prayers. "What was the other question?" Mr. Smythe’s eyes lost some of the hardness she’d noticed when he had been looking at the marshal.

The deep brown of Davidson Smythe’s eyes positively mesmerized her. Such a delicious shade. The words melted right out of her brain as she stared into dark velvet pools of emotion just bubbling beneath the surface. But what kind of emotion? Anger? Passion?

"Pearl, are you all right?" The marshal moved to stand beside her, placing a hand about her waist.

"Yes." She breathed in, then slowly out. Her gaze locked with Smythe’s, and given the way the other man still stared at her, she was unable to look away. It was as if he were silently asking her something . . . willing her to answer. But what?

"We’ll come back later, Smythe. Miss Pearl should be home resting."

Pearl closed her eyes and broke the strange hold Smythe’s gaze seemed to have on her. She drew in a calming breath, opened her eyes, and turned toward the marshal. "Ben, wait. I need to know who Mr. Smythe claims to have purchased my ranch from, and for heaven’s sake, where it was advertised." She’d beg if she had to.

"I can tell you that without you having to look at the papers." Smythe’s voice was as smoothly sensual as his dark brown gaze. The deep timbre of it slid over and around her as her imaginary lover’s arms would. Pearl shivered. Get control of yourself, or else you’ll never find out what happened.

"Make it quick, Smythe. Pearl’s not well."

"I answered an advertisement posted in the Denver Chronicle a few weeks back." "But whose name—"

"Don’t interrupt him."

Pearl blew out a breath of exasperation. "Fine."

"Samuel Jones, Esquire."

"A lawyer?" She didn’t even know any lawyers. "Did you meet with the man?"

Smythe’s lips lifted on one side. His crooked grin went straight to her heart. Damn him.

"I thought you only had two questions, Pearl."

"Well, since you’re being so cooperative . . ."

"Anything else?" Justiss urged.

"Did you meet with him?"

"Actually, I met with his assistant. Mr. Jones was called away and could not keep our appointment."

"Did you think that was odd?"

The marshal’s question had been one Smythe had been considering if the man’s furrowed brow were any indication. Mr. Smythe shook his head. "At first I wondered, but once I saw the deed and the proxy—"

"What proxy?"

Smythe turned back to her. "The one Sar—"

Marshal Justiss grabbed her arm, and tugged her toward the door. "That’s all for now, Pearl."

"But, Ben, Mr. Smythe was not finished speaking." She turned toward the fair-haired man and waited.

The marshal pulled her behind him and moved to shut the door to the cell. "I asked Reilly to drive you back to the ranch. You don’t want to make the man miss his supper, do you?"

No, she didn’t, but she refused to be sidetracked. "What don’t you want me to know, Ben?"

The marshal ignored her question and looked over at the prisoner. "I’ll be back, Smythe."

With that, she was ushered out of the temporary jail, but Marshal Justiss didn’t let her walk across the road. He swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the wagon and the waiting Irishman.

"Well, I’d about given up on ye, lass."

"I’m not a child," Pearl grumbled as she was deftly passed from one man to the other.

They both ignored her. Damn them.

Reilly set her on the wagon’s bench, vaulted up onto the seat beside her, and grabbed the reins.

"Remember what I said, Reilly."

The marshal’s warning tone was not lost on Pearl.

She ignored the lawman and turned to the dark-haired man beside her. "What aren’t you supposed to tell me?"

His snort of laughter eased the tension in between her shoulder blades. "Not a thing, lass," he said with a grin. "Not a thing."