Steamy historical romance set in the raw and wild west.
Marshal in Petticoats
Halsey Brothers Series Book 1
by Paty Jager
Genre: Steamy Historical Western Romance
After accidentally shooting a bank robber, Darcy Duncan becomes marshal of a town as accident-prone as herself. Darcy's taken care of her younger brother the last five years, and she's not about to take orders from a corrupt mayor or a handsome drifter, whose curiosity could end her career as a marshal and take away their security.
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He looked at her like she’d slapped him. “Why would a girl like you be interested in such things?”
“I heard Mr. Craven mention it and wondered what it was,” she batted her eyelashes and looked innocent, but Gil knew her well enough by now to know she was working the man for information.
“What do I get for me answers?” The miner grinned and pulled her close, grabbing her ample skirts and backside in his hand.
Gil rushed forward. He flung the offending hand aside and pulled Darcy into his arms. “Don’t touch her,” he said in a low voice.
Darcy looked up. She recognized the strong arms holding her, but the menacing voice didn’t fit the man she knew. His eyes glared dark and threatening, his chin set, and his free hand hovered over the gun she’d yet to see him draw.
“I was just haven’ a little fun. You don’t need to go gettin’ yerself all riled up,” the miner said, backing away.
“Gil. Gil.” Darcy put her hand on his face. The day’s growth of whiskers pricked her palm, but she left her hand there, feeling his jaw slowly unclench.
“I’m okay. I can handle myself,” she said in a whisper.
She stared into his dark eyes as his scent filled her nostrils. His arm pulled her tight against him then relaxed. She watched as different expressions played across his face, before he tucked them all away and smiled.
“Sorry. He wasn’t touching you in a gentlemanly manner.” He pulled his arm from around her and leaned against the wall.
Her heart leaped into her throat. He’d been willing to fend the man off with his gun moments before and now he looked at her with such gentleness, it made her shiver.
“I-I said I could handle it.” She looked up at him through her downcast lashes to keep him from seeing the emotions whirling around inside of her. She wasn’t sure what all of them meant, but she knew he wouldn’t like it if she followed him all over like a cow-eyed schoolgirl.
“Sure you could.” He chucked her under the chin and started to move away.
Darcy grabbed his shirt, pulling him around to look at her. “I can take care of myself. I have for several years.” She didn’t know why, but his comment and condescending attitude struck a chord of defiance in her.
“Now, don’t go getting all in a fluster. I’m sure you’ve stayed out of trouble by the skin of your teeth. But you were a kid then. You’ve become a woman.” He put a hand on her cheek. “A beautiful woman.” His gaze dropped to her exposed chest.
A scorching wave of heat started at her middle and flared out to her fingers and toes.
“You have no idea what these men around here would do to you if they had the chance.” His thumb moved back and forth, caressing her cheek.
“W-w-what would they do to me?” She barely heard herself mumble the sentence over the beating of her heart. His gaze turned dark. Only this time a glimmer of something other than violence flickered in his intense stare.
He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his long body. His head dipped, and his lips brushed hers.
Her body pressed against him, yearning to feel his strength. He bent closer, lifting her onto her toes. She wound her arms around his neck to keep from melting into the floor. His lips moved urgently over hers. Waves of sensations rushed through her eager body. He grasped her tighter. His hands moved up and down her back, then down over her hips, tracing the contours.
“That is not proper behavior for one of my girls.”
A stinging blow slashed Darcy’s bare shoulder, and she turned from Gil, gasping for air.
“Oh?” Mrs. Danforth’s angry eyes softened and a smile played at the corners of her lips. “Your dinner date.”
Darcy wiped her throbbing lips and looked from the woman to Gil and back.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Her stomach churned, thinking of how she’d just brazenly kissed a man in public.
Gil grasped her hand. “Excuse us Ma’am, but we need to finish our conversation.”
“Find some place a little more private.” Mrs. Danforth unfurled her fan and moved across the room.
Outlaw in Petticoats
Halsey Brothers Book 2
Maeve Loman has had her heart crushed before; she isn't about to have it happen again. When she takes Zeke Halsey up on his offer to help her discover the truth behind her father's disappearance, she's sure she can control her traitorous body and not fall for the man's considerable charms.
Steamy historical romance set in the raw and wild west.
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Book Two in the Halsey Brothers’ steamy historical western romance series
Zeke Halsey patted the pocket on his vest. The tintype his new sister-in-law, Darcy, found while kidnapped by outlaws resided close to his heart. How the likeness of his parents ended up in a pile of loot in the outlaw’s hideout had all the Halsey brothers perplexed.
He took the stairs of the boarding house in McEwen two at a time. He hadn’t laid his eyes on Maeve Loman the pretty, prickly school marm since his youngest brother Gil showed up at the family mine with a woman dressed like a boy and her brother.
After witnessing his baby brother marry Darcy, Zeke was more determined than ever to get Maeve to come around to his thinking. He planned to start by showing her he came from good stock and put one more reason for her to reject his marriage proposal behind them.
Maeve met him at the door.
He stared taking in her perfection. Her black hair glimmered like a raven’s wing in the sunlight.
Her delicious pink lips, he hadn’t sampled near enough, fluttered a moment before straightening into a firm line. She’d wanted to give him a welcoming smile and thought about it. That was the problem with Maeve, she thought too darn much.
“I brought something for you to see,” he said, removing his hat and following her swaying backside into the parlor.
She sat primly on the wooden chair and gazed up at him. “What did you bring?”
He sat, placing his hat on his knee and reached for his vest pocket. Panic widened her dark blue eyes.
When he slipped the tintype out, relief relaxed her pretty features. She’d thought he was going to propose, again. He grinned. One of these days he was going to ask her to marry him, and she wouldn’t be able to avoid answering.
“It’s a tintype of my parents. We’d thought it was lost, but Darcy, the girl who married Gil, found it.”
She took the tintype and stared at it before running her finger over the faces. Her brow furrowed, and she looked up at him. “These can’t be your parents.”
“Why can’t they be my folks? Because they’re too pretty?” Zeke watched her continue to stare at the tintype in her shaking hands. The lacy curtain in the window behind Maeve framed her form, giving her a fragile appearance.
“No. Pa said that man was his brother.”
Zeke jerked his attention from Maeve’s comely attributes back to her angular face and wide eyes. He nearly choked from her contorted expression. Memories of all the times he’d stolen a kiss and been tempted to do more drifted in his thoughts. The idea they could be kin, and something else he couldn’t place, didn’t set well with her. He saw it in her troubled, blue eyes.
“That can’t be.” He bolted out of the sturdy, yet comfortable chair, he favored when visiting and crossed the room in two strides. Zeke stared down at the picture of his parents. “My pa didn’t have any brothers, or sisters, for that matter. They all died on the way out west. Only him and an uncle survived the trip.”
Her steely stare glimmered with unshed tears. “My pa had this tintype. It sat on our mantel. He’d look at it and tell stories of how he and his brother,” she placed a finger gently on his father’s likeness, “this man, played jokes.”
The anguish and longing in her eyes said she wasn’t making it up, but his head and heart knew she had to be.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and roughly pulled her to her feet.
She jerked her hand from his and glared at him. Her odd habit of curling and uncurling her fingers right about holster height caught his attention. She only did that when she was annoyed or distraught.
Miner in Petticoats
Halsey Brothers Book 3
Ethan Halsey, the oldest of the Halsey brothers, is determined to fulfill his father’s wishes to provide for his brothers. The only drawback is a feisty woman who refuses to part with the land he needs.
Steamy historical romance set in the raw and wild west.
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Book Three in the Halsey Brothers’ steamy historical western romance series.
Ethan kept the horse at a leisurely pace. He didn’t believe the trio under the porch roof would shoot him, but the things Clay and the other men said when they found out who he was headed to talk to, niggled in the back of his mind. There was nothing cowardly about being cautious. Even if all he saw was a child, a young boy, and a tall, sturdy woman dressed in men’s clothing.
The clothing didn’t bother him. The other men had made mention of how the widow woman wore the dead husband’s clothes. Both his sisters-in-law wore britches as much as they did dresses. They allowed it made riding and working outside easier. If the widow worked the claim, she needed to wear practical clothes. And her dead husband’s would be handy and free.
He stopped his horse near a tree and dismounted, wrapping the reins around a limb.
“Afternoon,” he called, sauntering toward a cabin smaller than the one he shared with his brothers. The only difference between the two structures was the state of disrepair and the lean-to in the back.
The woman nodded, but didn’t say anything. None of them appeared hostile. The boy stared blankly. The little girl’s grin was infectious, and he found himself grinning back at her. He pulled his attention from the curly-haired imp to study the woman. She was tall. Not near his height, but she had to be gaining on six foot. The men’s clothing she wore did nothing to hide her attributes. The pants clung to her wide, round hips, and her full breasts gave the buttons on her shirt a working.
“Mrs. Miller?” he asked, extending his hand. She kept her head tipped forward just enough her face was shadowed and hidden behind the brim of the hat.
“Who be askin’?” Her voice caught his attention with its deep, lyrical tone.
“I’m Ethan Halsey. My brothers and I have a claim just over the ridge.” It aggravated him he couldn’t see her face and register how she took his words.
“Are ye lost?” The voice vibrated under his skin, causing his body to warm.
He cleared his throat. “No, I’m not lost. I’m looking for Mrs. Miller. I’m assuming that is you, since you’re the only grown woman I see here.”
“Ah m Aileen. Ah don’t fancy bein’ called Mrs. Miller.”
This disclosure piqued his curiosity. “Mrs—Aileen. I’ve come with an offer.” Her head tilted, tipping the wide-brimmed hat to the side and revealing a slip of her face.
“And what may this grand offer be?” He saw the slightest curve on one side of her lips.
“Ma’am, not to sound bossy, but I’d like to see your face as we discuss this proposition.” Her shoulders dipped slightly before she squared them, stretched her neck to its full length, and whipped the hat from her head. Copper sparks reflected off her hair as the sun lit her dark locks.
Ethan hadn’t believed the words of a cowardly man like Miles, and he was happy to see there wasn’t any kind of mark on the woman’s face, at least none put there by the devil. Her skin was abundantly sprinkled with angel kisses. That was what his mother had called the freckles on her face. Angel kisses. He’d always had a fondness for freckle-faced women and children.
“Thank you, I appreciate seeing people’s eyes when talking business.” Ethan took a step closer to the porch, waiting to be invited to the shade.
“And what be yer business?” The woman didn’t seem inclined to invite him any closer.
“I’ve scouted the land all around our claim. The five acres of your land down where Cracker Creek drops in elevation is the perfect spot to set up a stamp mill. The side of the canyon has the right slope and the water is moving fast enough to power the mill.”
“So, yer business is askin’ me to sell my land?” She clamped work-reddened hands onto those ample hips and glared at him.
Doctor in Petticoats
Halsey Brothers Book 4
Steamy historical romance set in the raw and wild west.
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Book Four in the Halsey Brothers’ steamy historical western romance series
He used the woman’s hold to leverage off the hard, smooth bench he’d warmed the last hour. He’d been adamant Ethan leave him at the blind school and let him enroll himself. It was time he owned up to his new life.
The matron’s breathing came in coffee fetid puffs at shoulder height. That made her nearly as tall as his height of a couple inches over six feet. She set a slow pace down the hall. I’m blind, not an invalid. He stepped out at his usual pace, and her wide hips brushed against his.
“After your meeting, I’ll show you the railing on the halls and how to determine where you are.” She huffed to keep up with him. “Whoa. You’re going right past the office.”
A whoosh of air wiggled his pant leg and rustled his hair. Someone opened a door.
“Dr. Tarkiel.” The matron’s voice sweetened in a patronizing way.
Clay snickered. Must be an old geezer the woman has a crush on.
“This is our newest student, Mr. Halsey.” The matron pushed his arm forward.
He held his palm out waiting for a crippled hand to slide across. Instead, long slender fingers and a firm grip clasped his hand. Warmth radiated up his arm.
“Mr. Halsey, welcome to the Blind Institute. I hope you use all the facilities to your benefit.”
The sweet feminine tone and sincere welcome intrigued him.
“A woman doctor?” He couldn’t stop the words tumbling out his mouth.
“You’re very astute, Mr. Halsey.” A light-hearted laugh trailed away from him. Citrus wafted in the wake of her barely audible retreating steps. The eye-watering lye fumes quickly engulfed the sweet lemon scent. The citrus reminded him of the lemon drops his mother had bought with money she earned from selling knit scarves to the mercantile in winter. His mouth watered as he remembered the sweet treats, and his heart ached for the little things his mother did for her sons that as a boy he hadn’t appreciated until it was too late.
The matron dragged him forward. “You’re lucky she’s used to that reaction.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve never met a woman doctor before.” Clay cringed. Ever since that damn dynamite had blown up in his face and taken away his sight, he couldn’t do or say anything right.
“She’s a kind heart. She’s already forgiven you.” The matron nudged him ahead.
Logger in Petticoats
Halsey Brothers Book 5
Hank Halsey believes he’s found the perfect logging crew—complete with cooks—until he discovers Kelda Neilson would rather swing an axe than flip eggs. As he sets out to prove women belong in the kitchen, he’s the one in danger of getting burned.
Steamy
historical romance set in the raw and wild west.
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Book Five in the Halsey Brothers’ steamy historical western romance series
“Only when they’re in the camp. Outside the camp it’s me and my boys, and some instances Kelda, who are in charge.”
Hank ripped his attention from the man’s large booted feet stepping out yet another square and peered at Arvid’s face. “Your wife is in charge of the loggers outside camp? I thought she cooked?”
“Nei! Kelda, my daughter. She’s been learning the trade since she was big enough to follow me and her brothers about the forest.” He winked. “And the men respect her. She can shank a chain and swing an axe as good as they. Of course, there’s always the newcomer who has to give her a challenge, but she’s gives them a good turn.”
“Your daughter works in the woods? Isn’t that dangerous?” Hank shook his head. It wasn’t right for a woman to be in that kind of danger. “While you’re working for me, I don’t want her in the woods.”
Arvid narrowed his eyes. “She is one of the best. She can handle any logging job.”
Hank stood his ground on this. “She’ll not work in the woods while you’re here. Keep her in the kitchen.” His brother’s wives had held occupations usually held by men. But a logger? What did the woman look like? Hank shivered at the thought.
“She will not be happy to hear you forbid her to work in the woods.”
“If she values her family having work here, she’ll abide.” Hank wasn’t going to back down.
Arvid watched him intently. “When we met I told you my family worked together, and I had a daughter.”
“Yes, I like that about your outfit, that it’s family. But I can’t have a woman out in the woods distracting the men or possibly getting hurt.”
Arvid shook his head, before his eyes lit with merriment again. “She can cook a berry pie better than any you’ve ever tasted. The men beg her for pies when the berries are ripe.”
Hank found it hard to fathom a woman who swung an axe like a man, baking pies. It just didn’t settle in his mind.
Paty Jager is an award-winning author of 54 novels, 8 novellas, and numerous anthologies of murder mystery and western romance. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Paty and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. Riding horses and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.
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