Blog Sharing with Sandra Cox

Today my blog isn't about me or my writing. (Thank goodness because after the first day back with the kids at school I may just have to crawl in a hole and sleep for 12 hours.)

So Cerridwen Press writer Sandra Cox, known for her wonderful previous releases Boji Stones and The Crystal, will be favoring us with a blurb and excerpt from her Cerridwen release Silverhills. Thank you so much, Sandra.




Silver Hills
By Sandra Cox
Available here.

Set in the 1870’s, Silverhills is the epic saga of tough, handsome Brandon Wade and lovely tempestuous Alexandria O’Malley.

Brandon is driving a herd of longhorns over the Chisholm Trail when a youth appears out of nowhere riding a magnificent black stallion and packing a deadly-looking six gun. In need of trail hands, Brandon hires the young man on. Not till weeks later during the middle of a terrible stampede does Brandon learn that his young sharp shooter is a beautiful woman. A woman, full of fire and passion, that he burns to possess. A woman steeped in mystery who refuses to disclose her past.

Alexandria is on the run and must be able to disappear at a moments notice. When she hires on to the cattle drive, she doesn’t expect the powerful attraction between herself and her trail boss or the response of her treacherous body. Will love and desire cost Alexandria her life. . .or save it?

Excerpt:

Brandon squatted down in front of her, the brown blanket partially covering his arms and exposing his hard chest and flat stomach. “And now, Alex O’Malley, I think its time we had a little talk.”

Alexandria gave him an uneasy look.

He stared at her, his eyes hard and searching. “Who the hell are you?”

“What kind of fool question is that?” Alexandria scoffed trying to brazen it out.

“If you have any sense at all, you won’t push me, O’Malley, not tonight,” he warned quietly.

Her chin came up and she looked him in the eye. “My name is Alex O’Malley.”

Before Alex could react, Brandon reached out and grabbed the front of her poncho and ripped it from top to bottom. The poncho slipped from her shoulders, leaving her bare to the waist, except for her bound breasts. He grabbed a fistful of material, his fingers pressed against her bosom.

She clenched her hand and swung. “Bastard,” Alexandria spat, as she hit him in the jaw.

Brandon barely registered the blow, aware only of the rise and fall of her breasts against his fingers. His grip on the cloth tightened.

“Let go of me,” she groundout, rubbing her aching knuckles.

“Who are you?” His voice was ragged.

Alex spat out, “Alexandria O’Malley.”

He abruptly removed his hand.

Alex grabbed the torn poncho and wrapped it around her.

“How old are you, Alexandria O’Malley?”

“Nineteen.”

Brandon’s face registered relief.

“Why the masquerade and why my trail drive,” he asked in a grim voice.

“If I had realized those four-hoofed horrors were your particular longhorns Mr. Wade,” she snarled, “you can be damn sure I would have kept riding.”

“And the masquerade?” he demanded.

Alexandra glared mutely at him then turned away.

As the silence between them grew, the foreman watched his wrangler. He bit back a grin as the light from the moon revealed the determined jut of her jaw.

Studying her, Brandon wondered yet again how he could have ever mistaken her for a boy. The days in the sun had tinted her skin a warm apricot. Raven-winged brows sat above glittering amber eyes, now hidden by heavily fringed lashes. Her cheekbones were high and stained with color and she smelled of rain.

He removed Alexandria’s soggy hat that she usually wore pulled down on her forehead. Short, auburn curls fell about her face. His gaze moved to Alex’s full mouth and lingered.

“Okay, forget it for now. But make no mistake, O’Malley, someday you will tell me and of your own free will.” He dropped the subject. “We’d better turn in. It’s been a long day. Lay down and I’ll share my blanket with you. You’re chilled to the bone.”

“Not in this lifetime or the next,” Alex said grimly, trying to ignore his bare chest.

Wade’s eyes traveled over her. “You’re perfectly safe with me, O’Malley. To me you are just one of the boys.” And I’m hell bound for lying.


So? What are you still doing here? Go on, buy the book. You know you want to. What could be more enticing than rugged cowboys, hot-headed strong-willed heroines and forbidden attraction?