Forget Me Not – Win a Copy


Leave a comment below to win a copy. Winner chosen on May 23, 2017. Happy Reading!

Her life depends on a man she can’t remember. 

His future depends on a woman he can’t forget. 

Sarah Hall had everything she wanted in life. A man who loved her, a job she enjoyed and the joyful memories her deceased parent’s had left her with.

But when her world comes crumbling around her and even her memories are stolen, will she have the strength to recall her past to save her future.

Jake Porter knew he loved Sarah the moment he saw her. Now he just had to convince her.

Yet when tragedy strikes and he finds her near death, on the floor of his construction warehouse, both of their lives change forever.

Now protecting her is his only priority.

When her past catches up with her and everything is at stake, will his love be enough to save them?



Sarah’s head sang with the dizzying effects of both the champagne and the hum of conversations. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a jumble of business cards and passed them to Jake.

“What’s this?”

“Business cards. There are at least five who want bids on remodeling jobs and a couple with plans to add onto their homes.”

Jake skimmed his thumb down her cheek as his fingers slid through her hair. “I may have to give you a raise.”

“And I may have to accept it, but I think it’s highly inappropriate to discuss it on a date.”

One side of Jake’s mouth quirked into a smile. “I thought this was a business function?”

“Oh, I think we’ve reached the parameters of a date.”

Leaning in, Jake slid his fingers to the nape of Sarah’s neck. His expression changed from amused to sultry and Sarah could feel his breath on her cheek as he closed in. She put her hand to his chest and curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt. When there was but a space of air between their lips she panicked, and pressed her hand flat against him. “I think you should drive.”

He gave a slight nod and then withdrew and fired up the engine. It was an awkward ten minutes before either of them spoke.

“So, tell me about the parameters.” Jake broke the silence and glanced at Sarah.

Smiling, she replied, “The way you kept your hand at the small of my back as we made our way through the crowd. I like that, by the way.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

Glad the mood in the car had lightened, she smiled. “The possessive way you put your arm around me whenever we were being introduced to any man younger than fifty.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“I did. Do you know you’re holding my hand?”

While they talked, he had linked his fingers with hers with his right hand and drove with his left. He gave hers a slight squeeze now.

“Intertwined fingers and hand holding are definitely not condoned at business functions.”

Pulling the car to a stop in her driveway he killed the ignition and turned to her. “I guess you’re right then. This must be a date. That means I get to walk you to your door.” Jake pushed open his own car door and then walked to the passenger side. With a flourish, he opened hers and reached his hand in to help her out.

“Are those all of the parameters?” he asked.

Jake kept her hand in his as they crossed the porch and stopped at her front door.

Sarah turned, enjoying the game. “Well, there were the flowers. I mean, what female doesn’t like flowers?”

“I’ll have to give them to you more often.”

“That implies there will be a second date.”

As Sarah turned her back against the door, Jake took the opportunity and caged her in. “I certainly hope so.” His voice deepened.

“So do I.” This time when Jake leaned into her, Sarah rose on her toes and met his lips. The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first. He tasted of champagne and spice and she found herself falling into the kiss, abandoning herself to the scents, tastes, and sensations of being held by him. He parted her lips with his and then groaned when she slipped her tongue

into his mouth. They met each other on equal ground, the slide of lips and tongues as his arms snaked around her, slid up her body and rested when his fingers found her hair.

Breathless he pulled apart just a fraction. “Are you going to invite me in, Sarah?”

She touched her lips to his again and smiled. “Not on the first date.”

Turning out of his grasp, she slipped her key into the lock. “Good night, Jake. Sleep well.”

“Not likely,” he replied as she closed the door behind her.

Book Giveaway! Forget Me Not release 5/9

I’m in the mood to celebrate! Forget Me Not is releasing on May 9, 2017 and is available for preorder on Amazon now.Forget_Me_Not-Rhonda_Print-final_mockup So to celebrate, I’m giving away a copy of my debut novel, Nightwalker: A Leah Wolfe SINS Novel to one person. All you have to do is like me on Facebook and leave a comment at Winner will be chosen and announced on Friday June 2nd. Oh, and if you love it, share the love with a review!

Her life depends on a man she can’t remember.His future depends on a woman he can’t forget.Sarah Hall had everything she wanted in life. A man who loved her, a job she enjoyed and the joyful memories her deceased parent’s had left her with.But when her world comes crumbling around her and even her memories are stolen, will she have the strength to recall her past to save her future.

Jake Porter knew he loved Sarah the moment he saw her. Now he just had to convince her.Yet when tragedy strikes and he finds her near death, on the floor of his construction warehouse, both of their lives change forever.Now protecting her is his only priority.When her past catches up with her and everything is at stake, will his love be enough to save them?


Forget Me Not Release May 9, 2017 Pre-Order Available Now

Click on cover to pre-order via Amazon.Forget_Me_Not-Rhonda_Print-final_mockup


Sarah Hall had everything she wanted in life. A man who loved her, a job she enjoyed and the joyful memories her deceased parents left her with.
But when her world comes crumbling around her and even her memories are stolen, will she have the strength to recall her past to save her future?
Jake Porter knew he loved Sarah the moment he saw her. Now he just had to convince her.
When tragedy strikes and he finds her near death, on the floor of his construction warehouse, both of their lives change forever. Now protecting her is his only priority.

Keep the spirit alive with Holiday Ever After



Baby, it’s cold outside! Come snuggle up with Holiday Ever After, a collection of 15 stories filled with love and passion sure to put you in the holiday spirit.

Get tangled up with a Regency tavern wench, your own Mr. Scrooge, or the ghosts of Christmases past and present. Open your home and your heart to visitors from far away. Is your secret Santa a Navy SEAL, a handsome jock, or an artist? Perhaps you’d like to ring in the holidays with that office party hottie, the sexy exchange student next door, or a Vegas stripper? Whether you like your holiday treats sweet or spicy, there’s something for everyone in Holiday Ever After.

Featuring stories by the Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA), Holiday Ever After will keep you warm on a chilly winter’s night.

Belle Ami • Kate Bigel • Roxann Breazile • Cami Brite • Claire Davon • Beverly Diehl • Pamela DuMond • Susannah Erwin • Nora Flite • Mia Hopkins • Kadee McDonald • Teri McGill • Marla Murphy • Kathy O’Rourke • Jewel Quinlan


She stole one more look at the approaching figures before turning her attention once more to the black rain gorged clouds that moved slowly across the sky. Taking a deep breath, she shrank into herself hoping to project a desire for privacy. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see them or encourage any curiosity from the man or his dog. She wanted no contact, accidental or otherwise with the intruders. Surely, she represented no irregularity in the scheme of things, just a woman sitting on the beach in meditation seeking a union between the spiritual and the natural world. Frozen, her posture rigid like a statue, she sat barely breathing, her senses tuned to the deafening struggle of wind and surf.

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The One – Belle Ami



Before the car sped away, Miles reached in to kiss her hand. His eyes were completely sober, “I told you when we met that I am impulsive and that it has usually served me well. I knew the minute I saw you, Adelia, that you were the woman I wanted, the one. Nothing will change that!”

How well do you really know the one you love? An erotic novel full of obsessive love, dark secrets, and unquenchable lust, Belle Ami’s The One proves that no one is quite who they seem.

Adelia, a rising star in the equestrian world, is still reeling from her parents’ deaths in a tragic car accident when she meets green energy investment banker Miles Bremen and his charming yet inscrutable twin sister, Karolin. With his insatiable lust, Miles ignites a passion within Adelia she never knew existed, and the two quickly find themselves entwined in a torrid affair that knows no bounds.

Little does Adelia know, however, that her meeting of the Bremen twins was no accident. Carefully selected as “the one” for her unsettling resemblance to the emotionally and physically damaged Karolin, Adelia is targeted to marry Miles and bear the children that Karolin cannot have.

The One is a razor edge mystery that enfolds on the playgrounds of the super rich, from Trump Tower to the Hamptons and Palm Beach; to the Amalfi Coast aboard Miles’s mega-yacht Green Way, The One is irresistible as the reader is drawn into Adelia’s journey through a suspenseful – and erotic world.

An edge-of-your-seat thriller that will leave readers breathless in more ways than one, The One is an irresistible journey through—new territory that fans of romantic fiction are bound to love.

Chapter 7

St. Regis Monarch Beach Hotel, Dana Point, California 

When Adelia arrived, the large suite was filled with horsey people: owners,

trainers, course designers, and riders. There was an air of excitement and

confidence among the revelers, who were always up for a celebration after

a long day of competition. The suite was large and well appointed, with a

piano and floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the turquoise waters of the

Pacific. Scores of people greeted her and congratulated her on her victory

as she wove through the crowd to the penthouse suite’s terrace.

A waiter handed Adelia a glass of champagne as she contemplated the surf that

rolled into the shore. The din of laughter, snippets of conversation, and

tinkling of the ivories seemed incongruous with the motion of the waves

and the sadness that pervaded her thoughts. Attending a party already felt

like a mistake. I think I’ll just say hello and make an early exit, she thought as

she watched another wave crash upon the shore.

“I’m so glad you decided to come!” Karolin’s arms encircled her in a

warm reception that was disconcerting coming from a complete stranger.

Once more, Karolin’s approach had caught her unaware.

“Come,” Karolin said. Taking Adelia’s hand firmly in her own, she guided her through the

room of people, toward a tall, dark-haired man whose back was to them.

“Miles, darling, I want you to meet Adelia. She’s the girl that won the

Grand Prix.”

“Excuse me.” Miles turned in mid-conversation and ceased talking. All of

his attention refocused on the person to whom his sister was introducing him.

Adelia was struck by the serious, penetrating, gray eyes. His smile, she

noticed, sat frozen on his lips never reaching his eyes. Miles was obscenely

handsome, and she sensed that he knew it. It was obvious that he could

charm a cobra or, for that matter, any woman he chose. She felt herself blush

under his scrutiny.

“Well, you gave us quite a thrill today. Congratulations.” He took her

hand and bent to kiss it. “I pay homage to a new star on the horizon.” His

eyes locked onto hers, daring her to look away. Her heart thundered uncontrollably in her chest as she searched for a response to his goading. Embarrassment ricocheted through her mind like

balls on a pool table. What the Hell am I doing here? She wondered.

“Leave it to my brother to play Lothario to your demure Camilla,” Karolin said with a chuckle, breaking the uncomfortable silence that ensued.

Will, an Olympic medalist who had been speaking with Miles, interrupted

the awkward moment. “Hey, you know what’s bizarre, you guys

look alike.”

Miles’s expression hardened. “I beg your pardon?”

“Karolin and Adelia look alike, except, of course, for their coloring.

Their hair color is obviously opposite, but their faces are like sisters’. Can’t

you see it, Miles?”

Miles surveyed the two women, forcing a laugh. “Does that mean I look

like her brother?”

Will wrinkled his brow as he examined the three of them. “It’s weird,

but there is a similarity. Of course, you’re much prettier.”

Miles cracked up, patting Will on the back. “Keep drinking, my friend,

and before long everyone in the room will begin to look alike.”

Will laughed as he walked away. “On that note, I think I’ll get a refill.”

Karolin clasped Miles’s arm as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “And

I’ll leave you two to get acquainted while I see to the dinner, before our

guests are completely inebriated and I’ve failed in my duties as hostess.”

Adelia watched as Karolin maneuvered through the crowd with catlike

undulation, which explained her ability to come and go without announcement

or sound; the gentle sway of her hips barely affecting the air currents.

Her focus on the departing Karolin allowed her to avoid Miles’s eyes,

which she felt had never left her. She wanted to return to the balcony and

the endless panorama of ocean and sky that beckoned through the sliding

doors. If she could, she would have run away from him. Instead, she found

herself cemented in place. She wondered if her attraction to him was obvious.

She felt her cheeks fill with color.

Miles saw only her discomfort and took her hand in his. “Come on. Let’s

get a breath of fresh air. It’s too hard to talk with so many eavesdroppers. I

might want to tell you the story of my life,” he jested.

His mercurial change in demeanor to gentle persuasion lifted the fog

that was clouding her reactions. Gratefully, Adelia allowed herself to be led out to the terrace. A mild breeze blew, whispering through the potted bougainvillea, their red plumage

adding color and contrast to the view. The setting sun sparkled radiantly

on the sea like a thousand mirrors. It promised a glorious sunset when

it sank into the Pacific. As she and Miles stood watching nature’s regalia,

she was well aware that Miles still held her hand firmly in his. His fingers

warmed her, and she acknowledged that it was good to feel another’s touch.

She breathed the moist salt air, but with the fragrance of salt and sea came

the unmistakable scent of the stranger who held her hand in his grasp.

Without turning his eyes from the beauty in front of them, Miles said,

“I knew your father, Adelia.”

The unexpected words sent a shiver down her spine. “You knew my

father? How?” She withdrew her hand from his as sorrow enfolded her like

the wings of a bird.

“We served on a couple of corporate boards together. He was a fine man,

a legend. Everyone in my business knows of Lars Lindstrom. He’s one of

the founding fathers of the ‘green’ movement, the man who awakened us

to global warming and inspired us to stand up and do something about it.”

“And what, may I ask, is your business?”

“I run a venture fund that invests exclusively in green companies.

Naturally, your father and I shared a common vision. I’m so sorry about

your loss, Adelia. I’m sorry for the world’s loss.” Once again he reached for

her hand, and this time she did not pull away.

“I still can’t believe it’s real. The senselessness of it all.” She turned

toward him. “The accident, I mean…I cry myself to sleep every night. I ask

myself will I ever reach a place of peace and acceptance, but then I realize

that a lifetime is not enough time to mourn their loss. I had to get back to

training or everything that we—my parents and I—had dreamed would

have been lost. And now that I’ve done it—won—I have no one to share

it with. It doesn’t seem to mean as much to me as it would have. I don’t

suppose I’m making any sense…” She shook her head, at a loss for words.

Miles turned toward her, grasping both of her hands as he pulled her

closer. “Since when does life or death ever make sense? You’re suffering

through a difficult time in your life. The way I see it, you’re doing the best

you can under the circumstances.” He leaned in slightly and kissed her on

the forehead.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Perhaps she had expected that he

might kiss her, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that he had turned

and was once again staring out to sea. She felt a flush of embarrassment and disappointment. She had revealed her soul to him. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted him to kiss her, and

he hadn’t. It was clear she was making a fool of herself.

“I really have to go. Please tell Karolin thank you for the invitation.” She turned to leave, but was stayed by his hand on her arm.

“I know the timing isn’t the best, but I’d like to call you. Dinner? Just

the two of us? I’d like to get to know you.”

Now she felt completely taken aback, with no ability to read him. She

had to get out of there now. “Sure, why not? I mean—I’d really like that.”

She spent the ride back to San Ynez wondering about Miles. It was

impossible to ignore the attraction she had felt for him. He was clearly successful,

sophisticated, and confident, everything she was not. Don’t be foolish,

she told herself. A man like that has women standing in line. What the hell

would he need some horsey, country girl for. Nonetheless, she vowed to Google

him when she got back to the ranch. He’ll never call anyway.

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One More Time is Not Enough-Belle Ami



Adelia Lindstrom Bremen seems to have it all: wealth, beauty, perfect twin children, two men in love with her, and a career she loves. But, beneath the veneer of success and prosperity lies disappointment, tragedy, and unending lies. Her parents were murdered, her marriage ended in a custody battle, and she is swept up in a love triangle. Now she has discovered the existence of a half-sister who wants nothing to do with her.

Someone is killing scientists that deny man-made climate change, and Adelia is about to find out that putting her life back together and opening herself to love may be the least of her worries. Can she find her true love and survive being the prey of a serial killer? Can the two men who love her rescue her in time? The clock is ticking.



One More Time is Not Enough

 Chapter 13

She was prepared to spend the night loving Miles without guilt, blame, or remorse. Lovers, ready to discard the insecurities that separated them.

Breaking from his embrace, she caressed his cheek where tension tightened his jaw. He watched her rise from the lounge chair and extend her hand to him.

“Come, Miles. You do want to make love to me, don’t you?”

He followed her through the house and into her bedroom. Ribbons and photos of her on horses jumping fences lined the walls. A bookcase displayed dozens of silver plates and trophies. She closed the door behind him and lit the gas fireplace.

Adelia hit a button on her iPod and a romantic song filled the silence. Then she grabbed a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge and filled two flutes. Handing him a glass, they sipped and listened to the music.

“I heard the door slam

When you walked out on me

What happened to our love?

Baby, don’t leave

She didn’t know if what she was doing was wrong or right, and she didn’t care. She felt an inexorable need to follow it through. Perhaps it was possible to love him again.

Everywhere I turn

Memories burn

I’ll never get over you

She stood inches from Miles, and when he opened his arms, she walked into them. They slow-danced, turning in circles to the music.

The way you smile when I’m kissing your lips,

Or the rush on my skin from your fingertips,

I’ll steal your breath

Make you cry out my name

When you’re lying beneath me,

There’s no escape

“Did you pick this song for a reason?”


Baby, come back

I’m the one you need

I’m putting it all on the line

Betting the house you’re still mine

“What happens when it ends?” he whispered in her ear.

“I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t end. Maybe it just continues.”

“The song or us?”

She smiled. “The song.”

His brows furrowed.

She placed a finger on the deep vertical line between his brows, smoothing his questions away. “What if I said, us?”

“I’d think I was dreaming.”

“Why do you love me, Miles?”

“I’ve tried not to.”

“I know. Me too. I’ve tried not to love you.”

Give us one more chance

Let me show you our love is real

“We belong together, baby.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” He stroked her face, then bent to kiss her. “It’s playing again.”

Her eyes were closed, and her lips held a shadow of a smile. “Is it?”

“It is.” His kiss was like the song. Feelings swept through her. She could feel his body tense against hers. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, resting them on his strong back, encouraging him to touch her.

“Since we first met, there’s never been anyone or anything that I wanted more than you.”

His powerful erection pressed against her. Without hesitation, she returned the pressure, her body molding to his. Losing herself in the union of their bodies seemed so natural. How calculating had she become that she’d fooled herself into believing she didn’t love him?

Following her lead, his hands sought the round contours of her derriere. He kneaded her flesh pulling her against him. Fervent kisses traced a path down her neck, sucking. He smiled. “I’m marking you with a hickey, so you won’t be able to escape the proof of our lovemaking.”

A deep, resonant moan escaped her lips. “Who says I want to escape?”

His cock pulsed against her in response.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.” She sighed.

“You’re . . . letting . . . me . . . in—not fighting . . . us.”

His lush lips journeyed up and down her neck.

“I-I don’t know, but it feels so good.” If the years had taught her one thing, it was that he knew her body better than she did.

With a gentle sweep, he moved her hair aside, exposing her ear to his probing tongue. “I love to bring you pleasure, baby.” The gravel in his voice drew goosebumps.

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Escape with Belle Ami

Escape, a sexy romantic thriller with a focus on the dangers of a nuclearized Middle East.
When Harvard student, Layla Rose Wallace and her Saudi boyfriend are kidnapped in Dubai and
taken to Iran, a deep-cover Mossad agent is activated and given a mission. He is ordered to either
get Layla out of Iran, or if failing that—kill her.
Cyrus Hassani is an assistant to the deputy director of Oghab2, Iran’s secretive intel
organization with authority over their nuclear ambitions; he is a Mossad mole, gorgeous, sexy,
and dangerous.
Fiery, auburn-haired, Layla Wallace is an art history doctoral candidate at Harvard, when
on vacation she and her Saudi boyfriend are kidnapped in Dubai and taken to Tehran. As the
daughter of a renowned nuclear physicist, she is a perfect target for blackmail. Layla’s
kidnapping is about to create an international incident and blow Cyrus’s carefully constructed
cover to smithereens.
When Cyrus first lays eyes on the feisty redhead he knows he’s in trouble. When they are
running for their lives, he’s fighting not only a powerful adversary who’s vowed to destroy him
for his treason, but an impossible attraction to a woman he’s struggling to resist.
Their escape from Iran seems impossible as all routes close, with their hunters in hot
pursuit. Cyrus must overcome not only deadly assassins, but the passions that have lain dormant
within his cold heart from years of living as a spy.
Can Cyrus and Layla survive and escape from Iran? Can a spy and a student find love?
Time is running out.
Enjoy an excerpt:

Escape (Tip of the Spear Book 1) Excerpt From Chapter 6

“Where the fuck is she?” Cyrus growled as he followed the guard down corridor after corridor. Finally, at the end of an isolated hallway, they stopped. He heard a muffled cry from behind the steel door. Drawing his ZOAF PC-9 pistol, he pushed the female guard out of the way and kicked open the door.

Anger flooded his nerve endings. His finger pulsed on the trigger, itching to fire. Cyrus hated Mohammad, but never more than at this moment. Everything he detested in his fellow man—the cruelty, the abuse of power, the ignorance and disrespect for human life—every vile human characteristic lived in this one individual. With pleasure, he would have shot and killed Mohammad, ending the life of an animal who didn’t deserve to live. Had Mohammad actually raped her, Cyrus would have killed him on the spot but he had arrived just in time. He controlled his impulse to exact punishment. His plan of action did not allow for deviation. He needed to stay focused on the goal of getting Layla out of Evin Prison.

In Farsi he ordered, “Put your hands up, Mohammad, and don’t move.” In English he asked the girl, “Are you all right?”

Mohammad slowly raised his hands. “Don’t shoot, Agha. I can explain. The girl is a witch. She seduced me.”

Layla, shielded by the hulking frame of her assailant, slowly rose from the table, raising and securing her pants. “Yes, I’m okay, but this animal was about to rape me.” Still in a shooter’s stance with the gun trained on Mohammad, he ignored the man’s ridiculous statement. “That isn’t going to happen, Miss Wallace. You’re safe now. Just do as you’re told and get behind me.”

When the girl emerged from the shadow of Mohammad, Cyrus temporarily lost his focus. His pulse quickened and his gut tightened in an automatic response to her beauty. Even as her face darkened with swelling and bruises, distorting her features, he found himself drawn to the large, turquoise eyes, the glorious auburn hair, and her luscious lips. With a mighty effort, he regained his composure, reluctantly dragging his eyes from her.


Layla, shaky on her feet, held fast to the table for support. Her heart still pounding a fearful arrhythmic beat, she tried to regain her composure. Tears welled in her eyes from her close call. A miracle had occurred, and someone had saved her. Following her hero’s command, she emerged from the shadow of her would-be rapist. Her eyes met those of her rescuer. The tall, dark man’s face was angry and unforgiving, his gun pointing at her assailant. When he looked at her, for a moment his expression softened, and then just as quickly, his emotions flickered and died, becoming unreadable.

Indicating the door with the barrel of his pistol, he commanded, “Let’s go. You’re through, Mohammad. As much as it would please me to kill you, I’m going to let you live today, which is better than you deserve.” He turned, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Take the chadar and put it on. The fewer people who get a good look at you, the better.”

Layla complied without answering. She wanted to grab the man who had rescued her from the monster and kiss him, but she was still reeling from her close call.

From the moment they left the room, everything proceeded at a rapid pace. The man remanded her attacker into the custody of a commanding officer, to whom he gave a brief account of what had occurred. Led away in cuffs, looking like the devil’s dog, Mohammad delivered a curse on her rescuer and brandished his fists in a threat of vengeance.

Her deliverer turned away, ignoring him. He whispered a reassurance, “Don’t worry, Miss Wallace, you’ll be out of here very soon.”

A female guard took her arm and led her back in the direction of her cell. Before the doors to the cell block closed, she turned her head and caught a glimpse of the man who had saved her. His gaze was fixed on her.

She felt her cheeks grow hot, but she couldn’t look away. The tiniest of smiles teased his lips.


Belle Ami Bio

Belle Ami writes romantic/suspense with a teaspoon of sex. Her latest book Escape (Tip of the Spear Series Book 1) was published January 10, 2017. Coming 2017 the sequel Vengeance will be published by Hartwood Publishing. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children, a horse named Cindy Crawford, and her brilliant Chihuahua, Giorgio Armani.


Twitter:  @BelleAmi5




Ride Harder-Gordon L. Rottman


Another classic western yarn from a master storyteller, Ride Harder follows cowpuncher Bud Eugen and his resourceful fiancée Marta as they confront all of the dangers Texas in the late 1880’s holds, both old and newfangled. When the seed money for Bud and Marta’s ranch is stolen from a local bank out of its Yankee-made safe, along with an Army arms shipment, Bud and Marta go back to Mexico to secure their future and that of Texas itself, come hell, high water, or steam-powered locomotives.

Excerpt—Ride Harder                       BUY HERE

Some mornings just weren’t as good as others. Marta was stomping round kicking rocks and shaking her finger at somebody who weren’t there. I was expecting her to start chewing prickly pears and spitting thorns. She was justly put out.

I weren’t too happy my own self, us being stuck out on the Eagle Pass-Del Rio Road without much of anything. Humiliating too seeing three road agents plain got the drop on us. They were sitting their horses in a mesquite stand pointing pistols at arm’s length. They’d taken our horses, saddles, guns, and a couple of thousand in hard-won cash that they didn’t know was in my saddlebags. That would wipe the silver lining off your cloud. I figured they’d be doing a happy days jig…bastards.

So I was feeling pretty down, and Marta came tramping over as prickly as a cactus. That was all I needed, all the thunder and lightning of a storm without the wind and the rain. I could of surely used some rain, seeing as we didn’t have any water. South Texas in March was pleasing weather, but it was warm enough to bring up a thirst. Them robbers hadn’t had the common decency to leave us a canteen. Lower than catfish turds.

Marta was standing over me—I was sitting on a rock—tapping her foot, her arms crossed. I looked up, and she was about as pissed as my mama the day I set the hayrick on fire—didn’t mean to, just trying out a cigarette I’d rolled with her makings. First time Mama broke my nose.

“What you looking at me for, niña? It ain’t my fault. Sumbitches got the drop on us good.”

From under the sombrero she’d taken off a dead bandito last December, her big ol’ black eyes were glaring a hole right through me. She’d held up her left hand to let me know again they’d taken her silver ring.

Here it comes.

Like a clap of thunder, she slapped her hands, stomped her sandaled foot, and jabbed her middle finger down the side trail.

“¿Qué? You want me to go after them thieving desperadoes? I ain’t got no caballo, pistola, carabina, or escopeta,” the last being her own shotgun the road agents took. “You know they even took your derringer, uh, poco pistola.”

She slashed her hand cross her throat, then made a strangling motion and a scary gurgling choking noise. I know a lot of bad Mex words for people you’re mad at, and I bet she was thinking all of them and some I’d never heard. I say thinking, seeing Marta’s as mute as an angel’s statue, not that she’s exactly an angel.

“All we can do is start on el camino por Del Rio and hope some friendly riders or vaqueros or a freight wagon comes along. I can borrow some dinero from that gun dealer, uh, armes vendedor Iknow. Besides, I can have Roberto make you another ring.”

That didn’t cut it. She grabbed hold of my hands and pulled. Being fourteen-three hands high, that’s not even five-foot, she’d not be able to get me up, but I stood anyway. I learned some time ago there’s no sense fighting her will. She’d really gotten mad at me the time I measured her with my hands like measuring up a horse I was buying.“

Well, all right then. There’s no telling how far we gotta walk. Heck, I’m hungry, tengo hambre. I need some chuck, uh, comida. We might be walking mañana and still ain’t found them pendejos. We need some agua too.”

Two sequels are in the works, Marta’s Ride and Marta’s Daughter.

Ride Harder–The sequel.
The Hardest Ride–A Western novel, Hartwood Publishing
USA Today Bestseller
Peacemaker Award Winner– Best Western and Finalist– Best First Western Novels
Spur Award Finalist– Best Traditional Western Novel

Tears of the River–A YA survival e-novel, Hartwood Publishing


USA Today Bestselling Author Gordon L.Rottman and The Hardest Ride


I’m often asked why I wrote a traditional Western, especially since I had read very few. I do like good Western movies though. The book idea started as a contemporary novel involving today’s drug cartels on the Texas-Mexican border, but doing research I decided I could do a lot more setting it in 1880s. Besides, I liked the challenge.

I will be the first to say that it is gritty and violent and far from PC. Its 1886, not today, and I strongly believe I building an accurate and authentic impression. The big surprise for me is the number of women who like The Hardest Ride. That is because of Marta, a feisty 16-year old mute Mexican girl. She is quite endearing and becomes a focus of the story.

The Hardest Ride won the Western Fictioneers’ Peacemaker Award for Best Western Novel 2014, was a Western Fictioneers Peacemaker Award Finalist for Best First Western Novel 2014, and was a Western Writers of America Spur Award Finalist for Best Traditional Western Novel for 2013. It was a USA Today best seller and an Amazon No. 1 best seller.

I had thought it would be a standalone novel, but the demand for a sequel led to Ride Harder which has been just released and at least two more sequels are scheduled.

Excerpt—The Hardest Ride                         BUY HERE

At one point Marta, confused about Bud, his intensions, and what her fate as an all alone orphan might be, leaves Bud’s campsite during the night and returned to a town they’d passed. She’s torn between trust her life with Bud or striking out on her own.Stringing Burro to Cracker after moving over all the gear I’d piled on Cracker, I headed back to the church. I dismounted and tied Cracker to a hitching post. I don’t know why I turned and looked across the plaza. I spied a tiny figure sitting cross-legged beside a saloon door. I walked across the muddy plaza leading the animals.She held her eating bowl in her lap. A passing mechanic dropped in a coin. Two of those wretched New York railroad trash came out of the saloon door. They said something to each other, their heads together. One laughed and hocked a gob of chewing tobacco at her bowl. He missed, splattering it on her shawl. Marta didn’t move, didn’t look up. They laughed mean like and saw me coming.“Here’s a sporting cowboy. You want a piece of that chili-popper, fella?”“This here greaser runt’s free for the takin’,” said the other with no room to talk, seeing his shirt and pants front were black with grease.I clutched my revolver’s grip and felt a pistol-whipping coming on. I kept a hold on my temper and paid them no mind. The two maggots smartly left without saying nothing more.She was shivering. I knelt down and wiped the spit off with my bandana. “Disgusting damn Yankees.” There were tears in those big dark eyes.I don’t know why, but I stood and reached out my hand. She glanced at me, seemed to sigh, reached for my hand, hesitated, and then took it. A chill shot though me, but it wasn’t from her cold hand. I don’t know what it was. Gripping me like she’d never let go, she held on tight until I wrapped her serape around her and lifted her onto Burro. I didn’t care who saw it. She sat there sort of limp, looking all played out, just staring at the ground.“Let’s go to Eagle Pass. I’ll get that job, and we’ll see what’ll happen.”Marta was still shaking with tears in her eyes and her lips quivering. Taking out a pair of wool socks, I worked them over her hands.“We’ll stop early today, build a big ol’ fire, fuego,”—I made hand signs—“and we’ll haveyour frijole beans.”She gave a sorta smile and nodded. I stuck the hand mirror into her tow sack. I felt real queer and couldn’t explain the feeling in my belly.

The sequel, Ride Harder, has recently been released.

Ride Harder–The sequel.
The Hardest Ride–A Western novel, Hartwood Publishing
USA Today Bestseller
Peacemaker Award Winner– Best Western and Finalist– Best First Western Novels
Spur Award Finalist– Best Traditional Western Novel

Tears of the River–A YA survival e-novel, Hartwood Publishing

Nightwalker: A Leah Wolfe SINS Novel


Leah Wolfe has retired from serious police work in favor of seeking a normal life. Her unique, yet not fully discovered supernatural abilities allow her to speak to the souls of the dead, providing vital information in the search for their killers. Her abilities have also cost her almost everyone she has ever loved including her mother, who abandoned her to fend for herself on the streets, and, most recently, her ex-fiancé Joaquín Wildhorse, Chief Detective of the Native American Reservation Police Department. But when Joaquín’s new lover is found brutally murdered on the reservation, he turns to Leah for help. The hunt for a vicious killer leads Leah to sexy Ian Nightwalker and Leah is unable to walk away from the case that may cost her her most guarded possession of all. Her heart.


Ian took my hand and led me to a glass-enclosed atrium. Stars glittered above me through the glass ceiling and the desert outside was backdropped by the mountain range. A jetted spa that trickled a waterfall into a large swimming pool illuminated the room. Palm trees surrounded the edge of the spa providing privacy. Wow.

“It’s like an oasis in the desert.” I spoke softly so as not to disturb the natural peace in the room. Like talking in a library.

Ian walked over to a large stone bench and sat down. He pulled his shirt over his head revealing his pale skin and muscles hidden beneath. I silently gasped and felt a wave of desire heat my body. Each muscle flexed and tensed as he moved to kick off his boots then pulled his socks over his feet. As he bent and exposed his back I couldn’t help but admire the breadth of his broad shoulders, my eyes following his spine down to his narrowing back and waist. His wavy black hair fell over his face and I was left with a view of his neck. I had the sudden urge to run my tongue along his exposed neckline to his kissable mouth. I wanted to run my hands over the strong shoulders and let them slowly caress a path down his chest and along the expanse of his stomach tracing the trail of soft, dark hair that led from his naval and disappeared under the denim of his jeans. I wanted to feel his hands fist in my hair as I explored his body.

I shook myself out of the thought.

My face blazed red as I saw Ian’s eyes bored into mine, the look of passion on his face that a man gets when knows you’re interested in more than just conversation.