All her western themed romances are on sale today for $2.99. I’ve read and loved them all. My daughter and her friends have read and loved them too! Most of my Marcia books seem to be on permanent loan to my daughters friends, they float from one friend to another and will hopefully end up back on my shelf someday.
Many of these books I bought in ebook form long before I had a Kindle. I actually printed them out to read them because I hated to read on my computer. A lot of paper and ink and I paid a lot more than $2.99 for them and never regretted it.
“You’re the sweetest girl in Mourning Dove Creek, you know?” Jack mumbled as he paused in kissing Jilly a moment.
Jilly smiled. “And you’re the handsomest man in Mourning Dove Creek, you know,” she flirted in return.
Jack smiled. “I do know,” he said.
Jilly giggled. Jack Taylor was so predictable—and a little conceited. He really did think he was the handsomest man in Mourning Dove—and he was, for the most part.
Secretly, however, if Jilly ever allowed herself to be completely honest about it (which she tried to avoid), there was one other man in Mourning Dove who always crossed her mind when the subject of the handsomest man in town arose. Yet there was no lingering on thinking of that man—no sirree! Not for a moment! Not for any reason—ever. And so Jilly just kept telling Jack that he was the handsomest man in Mourning Dove Creek. Besides, it was almost true—being that the other man lived outside of town and not right in town the way Jack did.
A somber recluse, Ransom Lake descended from his solitary concealment in the mountains, wholly disinterested in people and their trivial affairs. And somehow, young Vaden managed to be ever in his way…either by accident or because of her own unique ability to stumble into a quandary.
Yet the enigmatic Ransom Lake would involuntarily become Vaden’s unwitting tutor. Through him, she would experience joy and passion the like even Vaden had never imagined. Yes, Vaden Valmont stepped innocently, yet irrevocably, into love with the secretive, seemingly callous man.
But there were other life’s lessons Ransom Lake would inadvertently bring to her as well. The darker side of life…despair, guilt, heartache. Would Ransom Lake be the means of Vaden’s dreams come true? Or the cause of her complete desolation?
“My apologies, mister,” the cowboy mumbled.
“Nothin’ to apologize for, son,” Ransom said. “But you better get on down here so Doc Sullivan can look you over.”
“Yes, sir,” the cowboy said.
Then, as he attempted to dismount, the full depth of his weakness from injury and no doubt blood loss was evident as he fell to the ground and groaned.
Autumn, owning a character twin to her mother, was not only prone to mischief and clumsiness but also thoroughly steeped with sympathetic compassion and empathy. Thus, instantly and without thinking, she dropped to her knees and moved the poor cowboy’s head to rest in her lap.
“He needs to breathe, for one thing,” she mumbled as her father hunkered down beside her.
Tenderly she tugged at the brown bandana covering the man’s nose and mouth, gasping when he opened his eyes and looked at her.
Autumn Lake’s heart skipped a beat—it skipped several beats—as she gazed into the deep blue of the man’s eyes…
As the cowboy gazed at Autumn a moment more, he smiled and said, “Heaven’s got better-lookin’ angels than I expected.” But it wasn’t his fevered mind’s words that astonished her. It wasn’t even the fact that the man obviously thought he was at death’s door, or beyond it. It was the sight of his smile—his broad smile, his unusually white teeth—and more than anything, it was the clefts he bore on each cheek—the bewilderingly attractive dimples the man owned—that left Autumn breathless and staring at him. This wounded cowboy was flabbergastingly handsome! He was violently attractive, and Autumn had to inwardly whisper to herself to draw a breath…
Amoretta carefully knelt in the cool grass shaded by mill and trees. Once Prudence and Blanche had knelt down with the others, Prudence pointed to the low, loosely hanging board, indicating that Amoretta and Calliope should look through the open space it presented.
Amoretta’s heart was pounding like the rapids of some raging river! What were they about to witness? Spirits roaming the old mill? Pirates? Outlaws? Her imagination couldn’t list possibilities quickly enough.
And then, all at once—in the space of a moment and a short gasp—Amoretta Ipswich knew exactly why the young ladies of Meadowlark Lake liked to sneak out to the gristmill and peep through the loose siding board.
“Oh my—” Amoretta’s exclamation of astonishment was silenced by Winnie’s hand quickly covering her mouth.
The roundup begins with The Foundling (formerly released as Desert Fire).
She opened her eyes and beheld, for the first time, the face of Jackson McCall…
Posse up with the next generation of McCall heroes in To Echo the Past.
Stripped of her heart’s hopes and dreams, she knew true loneliness—until an ordinary day revealed a heavenly oasis in the desert—Michael McCall…
And finally, ride away to dreams come true with a modern-day McCall heroine in An Old-Fashioned Romance.
Life went along simply, if not rather monotonously, for Breck McCall. She longed for something—something that seemed to be missing…
The McCall Trilogy
…a romantic escape into cowboys, courtship, and kissing the way only Marcia Lynn McClure can deliver!
And yet, Angelina had not always been so hardened. There had been a time when she boasted a fun, flirtatious nature even more delightful than her sister Becca’s—a time when her imagination soared with adventurous, romantic dreams. But that all ended years before at the hand of one man. Her heart turned to stone…safely becoming void of any emotion save impatience and indifference.
Until the day her dreams returned, the day the very maker of her broken heart rode back into her life. As the dust settled from the cattle drive which brought him back, would Angelina’s heart be softened? Would she learn to hope again? Would her long-lost dreams become a blessed reality?
This man, this stranger whose name Genieva now bore, was strong-willed, quick-tempered and expectant of much from his new wife. Brevan McLean did not deny he had married her for very practical reasons only. He merely wanted any woman whose hard work would provide him assistance with the brutal demands of farm life.
But Genieva would learn there were far darker things, grave secrets held unspoken by Brevan McLean concerning his family and his land. Genieva Bankmans McLean was to find herself in the midst of treachery, violence and villainy with her estranged husband deeply entangled in it.
Yet, Tom Evans was a kind and compassionate man. When Lark Lawrence appeared on his porch, without pause he hired her to keep house and cook for himself and his cantankerous elder brother, Slater. And although Tom had befriended Lark first, it would be Slater Evans—handsome, brooding and twelve years Lark’s senior—who would unknowingly abduct her heart.
Still, Lark’s true age (which she when concealed at first meeting the Evans brothers) was not the only truth she had kept from Slater and Tom Evans. Darker secrets lay imprisoned deep within her heart—and her past. However, it is that secrets are made to be found out—and Lark’s secrets revealed would soon couple with the arrival of a woman from Slater’s past to forever shatter her dreams of winning his love—or so it seemed. Would truth and passion mingle to capture Lark the love she’d never dared to hope for?
Still, Sage found as much joy as was allowed a lonely young woman—in being proprietress of Willows’ Boardinghouse, and in the companionship of the four beloved widow-women boarding there. Until, that is, the devilishly handsome Rebel Lee Mitchell appeared. It seemed Reb Mitchel instantly and forever vanquished Sage’s feigned contentment.
Dark, mysterious and secretly wounded, Reb Mitchell utterly captured Sage’s lonely heart. Nevertheless, to Sage Williows, the powerfully attractive cowboy—admired and coveted by every female in his path—seemed entirely unobtainable. How could a weathered, boardinghouse-proprietress resigned to spinsterhood, ever hope to hold the attention of such a man? And knowing she couldn’t—would Sage Willows simply sink deeper into the bleak loneliness she’d secreted for so long?
Yet malicious villainy, intent on destroying Trader Donavon, set out to defeat him. Would evil succeed in overpowering the man whose face Fallon had never seen? The ever-hooded hero Fallon silently loved above all else?
However, in an instant—in less than a breath or the bat of an eyelid—the elusive pepper spray hiding somewhere in her purse was all but forgotten. For standing before her—right there before her, not three feet away—was the best-looking, most gorgeous, handsomest man she had ever seen in all her life!
“No, seriously,” she thought out loud with lingering bewilderment at how perfectly stunning the man standing before her was, wearing a worn pair of Levi’s, dusty cowboy boots, and a short-sleeved, plaid-print, snap-up shirt that hung open, revealing a bronzed, perfectly sculpted torso that was simply a mass of muscles. She was so unsettled by the man’s appearance that she wasn’t sure whether she was whispering aloud to herself or her car.
Either way, the man asked, “Beg your pardon, ma’am?”
“Oh…oh, nothing,” Fairlee said as she began rummaging in her purse again. But the man’s presence and appearance had entirely rattled her. As her awe-inspired brain obviously quit sending out instructions to the rest of her body, Fairlee felt her purse slip from her hands—watched in humiliated dismay as its contents tumbled out and scattered over the shoulder of the road.
A young woman with the soul of a guardian angel,
And an unspeakable evil about to be unleashed.
As Cricket lay in the soft comfort of her bed, continuing to let her mind nest on thoughts of how truly wonderfully attractive Texas Ranger Thibodaux was, she giggled, thinking that looking at him was more refreshing than swimming naked on a summer Sunday afternoon. He was a tall drink of water—far taller than most of the other men in town—and his shoulders were as broad as the state of Texas itself. Sky-blue eyes, bronze skin, square jaw, and dark hair—and that smile! In truth, Cricket had only seen Heathro Thibodaux smile three or four times, but each incidence was something she’d never forget. His smile was bright and white, and the gold tooth he owned on the upper-right incisor of his smile only embellished the richness of it.
That one tooth. Cricket’s smile faded as she thought of it. Oh, no doubt the flash only added to the splendor of his smile. Yet it also served as a reminder to anyone who had ever read or heard of what had happened in Texas one year before. No doubt it was a powerful remembrance to Heathro Thibodaux himself—a visual indication of true barbarity, pain, and loss.
In that moment, Cricket wondered—when Heathro looked in the mirror each morning and saw that tooth, did he think of eight dead girls buried in the bottom of a bleak and barren canyon? Did he think of the eight dead girls that he, for no fault of his own, had been unable to save?
Still, to Aspen it seemed something was missing—something hovering just beyond her reach—something entirely satisfying that would ensure her happiness. Yet, she couldn’t consciously determine what the “something” was. And so, Aspen sailed through life—not quite perfectly content perhaps—but grateful for her measure of contentment.
Grateful that is, until he appeared—the man in the park—the stranger who jogged passed the bench where Aspen sat during her lunch break each day. As handsome as a dream, and twice as alluring, the man epitomized the absolute stereotypical “real man”—and Aspen’s measure of contentment vanished!
Would Aspen Falls reclaim the comfortable contentment she once knew? Or would the handsome real-man-stranger linger in her mind like a sweet, tricky venom—poisoning all hope of Aspen’s ever finding true happiness with any other man?
Yet she was a nameless beauty, haunted by wisps of visions of the past. How could she ever hope he would return the passionate, devotional love she secreted for him when her very existence was a riddle? Would Jackson McCall (handsome, fascinating, brooding) ever see her as anything more than a foundling-a burden to himself and his family? And with no memory of her own identity, how then could she release him from his apparent affliction of being her protector?
As a child, Cedar Dale had adored the handsome rancher’s son, Tom Evans. And when chance brought her face-to-face with the object of her childhood fascination once more, Cedar Dale began to believe that perhaps her fragmented heart could be healed.
Yet, could Cedar truly hope to win the regard of such a man above men as was Tom Evans? A man kept occupied with hard work and ambition—a man so desperately sought after by seemingly every woman?
Handsome, rugged and fiercely protective of four orphaned sisters, Stover Steele seemed to have stepped from the pages of some romantic novel. Yet, his heroic character and alluring charm only served to remind Katie of what she would never have—true love and happiness the likes found only in fairytales. Furthermore, evil seemed to lurk in the shadows, threatening Katie’s brightness, hope, and even her life!
Would Katie Matthews fall prey to disappointment, heartache and harm? Or could she win the attentions of the handsome Stover Steele long enough to be rescued?
“Cherry glanced at her pa who frowned and slightly shook his head. Still, she couldn’t help herself and she leaned over and looked down the road.
She could see the rider and his horse—a large buckskin stallion. As he rode nearer, she studied his white shirt, black flat-brimmed hat and double-breasted vest. Ever nearer he rode and she fancied his pants were almost the same color as his horse, with silver buttons running down the outer leg. Cherry had seen a similar manner of dress before—on the Mexican vaqueros that often worked for her pa in the fall.
“Cherry,” her pa scolded in a whisper as the stranger neared them.
She straightened and blushed, embarrassed by being as impolite in her staring as the other town folk were in theirs. It seemed everyone had stopped whatever they had been doing to walk out to the street and watch the stranger ride in.
No one spoke—the only sound was that of the breeze, a falcon’s cry overhead and the rhythm of the rider’s horse as it slowed to a trot….”
It was true Violet had been only a child when her family moved. Still—though she had been unwillingly pulled away from Rattler Rock—pulled away from him she held most dear—her heart had never left—and her mind had never forgotten the promise she had made—a promise to a boy—to a boy she had loved—a boy she had vowed to return to.
Yet, the world changes—and people move beyond pain and regret. Thus, when Violet Fynne retuned to Rattler Rock, it was to find that death had touched those she had known before—that the world had indeed changed—that unfamiliar faces now intruded on beloved memories.
Had she returned too late? Had Violet Fynne lost her chance for peace—and happiness? Would she be forever haunted by the memory of the boy she had loved nearly ten years before?
Helplessly drawn to Paxton’s alluring presence and unable to escape his astonishing hold over her, however, Rivers knew she was in danger of enduring great heartbreak and pain. Paxton appeared to find Rivers no more interesting than a brief cloudburst. Yet, the man’s spirit seemed to tether some great and devastating storm—a powerful tempest bridled within, waiting for the moment when it could rage full and free, perhaps destroying everything and everyone in its wake—particularly Rivers.
Could Rivers capture Paxton’s attention long enough to make his heart her own? Or would the storm brewing within him destroy her hopes and dreams of belonging to the only man she had ever loved?
Visit my FeedYourReader site for more great Freebies & Deals.