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Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Painted Pony Books New Release -- Roping A Planet by Richard Prosch -- Giveaway

Rich will be giving away a copy of ROPING A PLANET to one person who comments, so be sure to leave a way he can contact you in the comments if you would like to participate in the drawing.

During the autumn of 1910 twelve-year old deputy constable Jo Harper is making the most of a warm Indian Summer until a deadly mystery brings a winter chill to the season. When chief badge toter Abby Drake asks Jo to help promote the movie career of Jupiter, an enormous prize-winning horse, neither of Willowby, Wyoming's top law & order gals expect the storm of fire and flaming arrows that follows.
And with so many other things straying off the trail—from a potential new boyfriend to keeping an autograph book, from a perpetually absent father to the unrelenting progress of 20th century technology—how will Jo rope her destiny and tie up her most dangerous adventure at the same time?

Jo Harper, Abby Drake, and Frog return with Jupiter, "a Horse to Remember!" in this sequel to RACING A DOG STAR.

Red faced with anger, spectacles sliding down her nose, her tiny fist clenched into a marble mallet, Beatrice Dunn pounded the old cherrywood lectern while her gray, crocheted shawl dropped from her long cotton shirt sleeves to the school room floor.
Twelve-year old Jo Harper had never seen the new school marm pitch such a hissy fit, and like the dozen students around her, Jo was fighting a nervous snicker. Chalk dust tickled Jo's nose with each thump of the lectern.
The target of Beatrice’s anger was one of the older boys in the row behind Jo, a farm kid with the unlikely name of Ned Salamander. The herd of wild boys sitting in the bench beside him called him Sally, and not appreciating the nickname, Ned complained aloud. So they teased him all the more, even during math lessons. Naturally, it was Sally, er, Ned that Beatrice blamed for the ruckus.
“Once and for all, I have had enough nonsense, Ned,” said Beatrice. “This is your final warning. Do you hear me young man? Your final warning.”
Seventeen year-old Ned couldn’t keep sober at being called a young man by the equally young Beatrice and, turning to the very boys who teased him, pulled a funny face. The boys laughed like a team of mischievous donkeys. Not that Jo could blame them.
Floundering behind the lectern, Beatrice was only a few years older than Jo, a student herself when the fall semester’s first teacher ended up in jail. As a stand-in, Beatrice was in above her head. And as a girl, she was completely the opposite of Jo. Where Beatrice’s hair was mouse brown and thin, Jo’s long, thick braid was raven black. While Beatrice dressed like a spinster with sweaters and long skirts, Jo wore tough canvas shirts and denim jeans. Beatrice liked to knit. Jo liked to shoot six-guns.
     Beatrice had really tried to be a good teacher, treading water for the past month or two, but she was going under.  Just as Jo started feeling sorry for her, the teacher turned and stomped down the center aisle, then ran from the building.

BUY LINKS:      Barnes and Nobles Nook        Smashwords

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Painted Pony Books New Release -- Lone Star Ranger Book 3: A Ranger to Fight With by James J. Griffin -- Giveaway

James will be giving away a copy of A RANGER TO FIGHT WITH to one person who comments, so be sure to leave a way he can contact you in the comments if you would like to participate in the drawing.

When Captain Quincy's company of Rangers is ordered to the Big Bend, Nate has no choice but to ride with them. It appears his odds of finding the men who murdered his family grow more distant with each passing mile. But a chance encounter with a patrol of buffalo soldiers provides the first solid lead as to the gang's whereabouts--and Captain Quincy's Rangers make a detour to find the pale-eyed demon whose gang has been responsible for so many deaths. Will Nate and his Ranger companions finally catch up with the killers? Nate's gut feeling says they will--but who will survive?

    Nate Stewart lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling of his tent. His three Texas Ranger tentmates, Hoot Harrison, who had quickly befriended Nate, Jim Kelly, and Dan Morton, were all sleeping, snoring softly. However, Nate was having trouble falling asleep. 
    Tomorrow, the Rangers would break camp and head for the Big Bend. That meant Nate would be riding with them, leaving behind the ranch where his father, mother, and older brother had been murdered by outlaws, and Nate himself left for dead. The men responsible were still out there somewhere, and Nate was determined to see them brought to justice. However, that would have to wait. 
    The Ranger company he was with had been ordered to far West Texas, and he had no choice but to go with them. Already, everything which could be packed ahead of time was bundled up, most of the supplies loaded in George Bayfield’s chuck wagon. 
    At first light, the men would eat a quick breakfast, the tents would be taken down, and everything loaded on pack mules. An hour after sunrise, they would be on the trail, heading west.
    Nate sighed as he thought back on everything that had happened to him in the past few weeks; how unexpectedly his life had changed. He had moved with his family from a home in Wilmington, Delaware to a small ranch outside San Saba, Texas. 
    After the attack which left Nate an orphan, he had been found and nursed back to health by a company of Texas Rangers. With no family or friends in Texas, it appeared Nate would have to move back to Delaware, to live with his aunt, uncle, and eight cousins. However, fate had taken a hand when Jeb Rollins, the Ranger arranging for his trip home, had been confronted by a group of rustlers. 
    In the ensuing gunfight, Nate had saved Jeb’s life by tackling and knocking out one of the gunmen, before he could shoot the Ranger. Jeb decided Nate had enough guts, and potential, to be taken on as a camp helper for his Ranger company, despite Nate’s age of only fourteen.
    I’ve learned how to use a gun since then, Nate thought, to care for and ride a horse, and how to handle myself with my fists… not to mention takin’ on someone in a knife fight. I’ll sure never forget what Hoot taught me about that. 
    I’ve shot a couple of men, and been shot and nearly killed myself. If I hadn’t stuffed my train tickets and the rest of my papers back in my shirt pocket, then forgotten about them, the bullet which hit me in the chest would’ve killed me. Even at that, I’m real lucky those papers man-aged to stop that slug. 
    I’ve tried smokin’, which I doubt I’ll try again, drunk te-quila and whiskey, learned how to play cards, and thought about huggin’ and kissin’ a girl. 
    He softly chuckled. He—I mean, heck, I’ve even learned how to cuss some. My ma’d sure have washed out my mouth with soap if she ever heard me doin’ that. 
    I helped stop a bank robbery, and made some good friends. I only wish I’d caught up with the men who killed my folks. 
    I’ve had two more run-ins with ’em since, even managed to put a bullet into that pale-eyed son of Satan who leads the gang, but they’re still on the loose, after killin’ some of my partners, and more innocent folks. 
    Nate sighed again. After all that, I’m still not certain what I’ll do when I have to come face to face with a man, over leveled six-guns. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull the trigger under those circumstances. 
    And for my pards to count on me, I need to be a Ranger they can fight with.

With those thoughts, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.    



Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Painted Pony Books New Release -- The Saga of Indian Em'ly: Book 2 On The Colorado Trail by Sara Barnard -- Giveaway

Our own Prairie Rose Publications author Sara Barnard has a new release through our Painted Pony Books imprints--the second in her Indian Em'ly series! She's giving away a free copy to one lucky commenter today! Be sure to leave a way to contact you in the comments if you would like to participate in the drawing for a free ecopy of this book, and wish her much luck with her new series!.


The pale face soldiers have torn Wind That Knocks Down Lodges and Cactus Flower's world apart. After finding themselves at the mercy of the Army, far from Apache Territory and well on the trail to Colorado, Knocks Down's choices are dwindling rapidly. After a failed attempt at escape that leaves Cactus Flower injured and both of them in danger, can Knocks Down bring himself to trust the soldier, Pale Face Joe? His life depends on it, and his little sister's does, as well!


    The feeling of needing to be sick and vomit rolled over me and my pounding head as the light from the sun attacked my eyes. Pale face chatter filled my ears, making the rolling in my stomach churn all the more violently. The pale face chatter grew louder as I struggled to come awake.
    Dirty brown fabric, the kind that seemed to be a favorite of the pale face soldiers, was all around me, like a cocoon.
    “Cactus Flower?” Her name was broken and dry on my parched lips. How long had I been asleep? “Cactus Flower,” I tried again.
    Pulling at the canvas, I studied our surroundings. We moved in a line, inside wagons pulled by Army horses. Soldiers, with their shooting horses drawn from their scabbards, rode alongside. The raw emotion of fear burned in my dry throat. Nothing about this land was familiar. Not the roll of a hill, or the shadow of a canyon. My heart began to thunder in my chest and a twitching in my legs urged me to jump from the Army wagon and run to safety far from here. Far from the soldiers that killed first Silver Sky, and then my mother.
    Glancing around the foreign land, my eyes hungered for something familiar. A wild rose perhaps? Wildly, my gaze danced over the rugged, dusty desert. The Army had taken us far from the land where the wild roses bloom, far from our home. I swallowed hard and blinked back the tears that brimmed, for a warrior of     The People must never show fear, even if his heart trembled with it.
    A terrifying thought pushed its way to the front of my mind. Can it still be The Moon When The Wild Roses Bloom if there are no wild roses to bloom? I looked down at my hands on the rough wood of the wagon box. They had begun to tremble. I struggled to find a logical reason to my newfound predicament. Perhaps time was measured differently here, faster no doubt, on the pale faces’ trail.
    “Cactus Flower!” I choked on her name in my dry, nauseated throat. Lifting one trembling hand, I shielded my eyes from the sun, which did little to ease my pounding head. While the wild roses weren’t blooming here, the same sun was still assaulting my tired eyes. Perhaps time was still measured the same on the pale face trail.
    Tom’s voice boomed loud, from just the other side of the dirty canvas, making me jump and forget my thoughts of timekeeping. Then, he laughed. My mother’s murderer laughed. I sit in here, terrified and miserable, and the pale face who has hidden my sister, murdered my mother, and taken me from my home rides free upon the back of a horse.And he laughs.