Friday, January 31, 2014



Bounty hunter Sam Noble always gets his woman . . . even if he has to travel across time to find her.

Annie Dillon’s fondest hope is to transform a Texas ghost town into a tourist mecca. But she arrives in Deadend to find her town, and her finances, in a shambles. Then a sudden, violent whirlwind howls through the town, sweeping in a tall, wickedly handsome cowboy.

Colorado bounty hunter Sam Noble is here in Texas to nab a notorious female desperado. Waving an ancient-looking wanted poster in Annie’s face, Sam insists she is “Rotten Rosie” Dillon—an Old West outlaw who just happens to be Annie’s great-great-grandmother! Hushing her protests, Sam grabs Annie and carries her off on horseback . . . and across time.

Annie is flabbergasted. Who is this loco stranger who has kidnapped her? Why is he saying they are now living in the year 1885? And why is he claiming she is her own ancestor, “Wanted Dead or Alive” for murder? Worse yet, Sam refuses to believe he has arrested the wrong woman, and is determined to take Annie off to justice, and a certain hanging, in Central City. In order to gain her freedom, Annie knows she must win Sam’s trust and find the “real” Rosie. But will the potent chemistry she and Sam are feeling sweep them up into a sensual whirlwind neither will want to escape?

WANTED ACROSS TIME is a jewel of a western time-travel romance from the author of BUSHWHACKED BRIDE and BUSHWHACKED GROOM. It is filled with sexy escapades, Indian lore, and the true spirit of the Wild West.


She’s stuck in Deadend, Texas, in the present. But the past is about to crash in on her...

Annie was about to leave the saloon when the wind began to roar even more savagely; she cried out in fear as the front doors blasted open and a chair sailed across the room toward her. She dashed out of the missile's path and covered her face with her forearms as all around her timbers began to rattle and shriek and glass shattered; she feared a tornado was brewing.
Was this what old Windfoot had meant by "the whirlwind"? Indeed, the wind now roared so violently that chairs and even tables were sailing about like so many matchsticks!
Annie staggered across the room, gripped the front door handles, and tried to push them closed. Standing there trembling, boot heels dug into the floor and body lashed by the wind, she felt as if she were wrestling a demon. After several moments of frustrating struggle, she gave up and retreated, dodging flying debris as she dived behind the bar, where she cowered as the terrible howling and crashing continued.
Then a large bulky object thudded onto her back, prompting her to cry out in fear and pain. Shoving the item away, she saw that the portrait of the naked beauty had landed on top of her. The hussy was still smirking, mocking her.
Damn it, not even her hiding spot was safe!
Annie struggled to her feet. Whirling toward the wall to dodge a rusty beer can hurtling toward her, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with an ancient-looking wanted poster that had been concealed behind the painting.
What in hell . . . ! With a gasp, Annie recognized the picture on the poster as that of her own great-great-grandmother, the ancestor she'd been thinking of mere seconds earlier, a woman whose face was so much like her own. What on earth was going on?
Annie's ancestor was glowering back, her pretty features fearsomely set, her long hair in pigtails. Wide-eyed, Annie read the caption: "Wanted, Dead or Alive, for Murder and Other Crimes Most Foul: Rotten Rosie Dillon."
"Rotten Rosie!" Annie cried.
She was appalled, not sure what to make of the wanted poster, which was yellowed and curled, and did appear quite old and authentic. But the notice made no sense: Her great-great-grandmother had been a grand lady, never an outlaw or a murderess! And why was she looking at the amazing wanted poster mere seconds after thinking about Rosanna?
Before Annie could further contemplate the mystery, she was distracted by a banging behind her. She spun about just as the saloon doors crashed against the wall and a huge, ruggedly handsome man strode in. The very sight of him put a shiver down her spine.
The stranger was dressed in old-fashioned buckskins and wore a large round brown hat with a snakeskin band and an eagle feather at the back. He sported dark, collar-length hair and a short, scruffy beard. He held a Winchester rifle in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper in the other. The wind whipped his buckskins about a massive, hard-muscled frame that oozed menace. A huge Colt was strapped to one sinewy thigh, a long knife to the other.
And his eyes! Even from across the room, Annie could tell they were dark and ruthless. That merciless gaze was fixed on her with riveting intensity; the man radiated an aura of danger and raw sensuality that staggered her on a deep, elemental level.
There was something almost savage about his visage, and she wondered if he might be part Indian. Indeed, he appeared as if he had materialized from another time or had been lost in the wilderness for ages. Could he be a rancher from the area? If so, that would explain the rifle. But his manner of dress was so bizarre!
As the wind quieted a bit, he spoke in a deep, charged voice. "Step out from 'round that bar, sister. Slow like." He pointed his rifle toward her.
Annie gulped. Although it wasn't that unusual to see a man with a rifle in these parts, having it pointed at her was another matter altogether! Nonetheless, she lifted her chin, stepped forward, and faced the newcomer with bravado. "Well, hello, mister. Who are you? And hasn't anyone told you it's a federal offense to possess eagle feathers?"
Appearing less than amused, the man uncrumpled and held up the piece of paper; Annie was astounded to see was a newer-looking copy of the very wanted poster she'd just spotted hanging above the bar!
"This you, lady?"
"No, of course not—that's my great-great-grandmother," Annie retorted.
The stranger laughed and shoved the poster into his coat pocket. "Well, that's an original story if I ever heard one. Come on, sister, let's go. My grandpappy always said you gotta reap what you sow. You broke the law and I'm hauling you in. I've come a long way to find you, and it's time for us to head out."
Annie's mouth fell open as feelings of unreality swamped her. "Head out? Where?"
"To Central, Colorado, to bring you to justice."
"To Colorado? To justice? Are you out of your mind? Why, that's the craziest—"
Annie stopped cold as the man lifted his rifle, threw the lever, and chambered a round. "All right, lady, enough palavering. Get your butt moving out the saloon doors. You're wanted dead or alive, and it makes no nevermind to me which way you go."
Annie's heart galloped with fear. Oh, God, this nutcase was serious! Clearly he was prepared to kill her if she didn't cooperate. What kind of lunatic was he? She observed the deadly determination in his stance, his eyes, the rifle in his huge, tanned hands. Although she'd been trained in self-defense, she knew a no-win situation when she saw one, and realized her only recourse was to humor this maniac.
Cautiously she moved toward him ...

Copyright © 1997 by Eugenia Riley Essenmacher

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...