OUT OF THE EMBERS
MESQUITE SPRINGS, BOOK ONE
by
Amanda Cabot
Number of Pages: 336
***Scroll down for the giveaway!***
Ten years after At first, Evelyn is a distraction. But when
Suspenseful and sweetly romantic, Out of the Embers is the first in a new series that invites you to the Texas Hill Country in the 1850s, when the West was wild, the men were noble, and the women were strong.
PRAISE FOR OUT OF THE EMBERS:
"Out of the Embers is part prairie romance, part romantic suspense. I can't remember when I've enjoyed a book more. Amanda Cabot has written an intriguing, chilling mystery and was going to absolutely
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CHAPTER ONE, PART ONE FROM
OUT OF THE EMBERS
BY AMANDA CABOT
One Friday, December 21, 1855
Someone was watching. Though a shiver of dread made
its way down her spine, Evelyn Radcliffe kept a smile fixed on her face. No
matter how her skin prickled and how every instinct told her to flick the reins
and urge the horse to race forward, she wouldn’t do anything to worry the child
who sat beside her.
She took a deep breath,
then exhaled gradually, trying to slow her pulse, reminding herself that this
was not the first time she’d sensed the Watcher. The feeling would diminish
when she reached the outskirts of Gilmorton, and by the time she was an hour
away, it would have disappeared. It always did. The only thing that made today
different was that she was not alone. Today she had a child to protect.
Evelyn took another
breath, forcing herself to think about something—anything—other than the danger
she’d sensed. It was a beautiful day and an unusually warm one for so close to
Christmas. The sun was shining, bringing a genuine smile to her face as she
gazed at the now dormant cotton fields that brought so much wealth to this part
of Texas. White gold, she’d heard some call it.
“What’s wrong?”
Evelyn turned toward the
girl who looked enough like her to be her sister. Polly’s hair was silver
blonde rather than Evelyn’s golden and her eyes were a lighter shade of blue,
but she had the same oval face and a nose whose tip flared ever so slightly,
just as Evelyn’s did. Besides the difference in their ages, Evelyn’s skin was
unmarred, while a prominent strawberry red birthmark on her left cheek
destroyed Polly’s hopes of beauty.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Evelyn
wished the child weren’t so sensitive. “I’m just anxious be trusted
The distraction appeared
to have worked, for Polly giggled. “She’s a bad cook. Buster spit out the
oatmeal she gave him ’ cuz
Lumpy oatmeal was a
better topic than the fear that engulfed Evelyn almost every time she came to
Gilmorton. Mrs. Folger had told her she needed to confront her fears. That was
one of the reasons she insisted Evelyn be the one to make these trips. But Mrs.
Folger didn’t know that even ten years later, Evelyn could not bear to look at
the building she’d once called home and that she detoured to avoid that block
of Main Street. Mrs. Folger scoffed at the idea that someone was
watching, calling it nonsense, but Evelyn knew better. Someone was watching,
and it terrified her.
The tension that had
coiled inside Evelyn began to release was
willing to be gone day been able
to purchase
“When you’re a little
older, I’ll teach you how to make oatmeal.”
Evelyn laid a hand on
Polly’s shoulder, wanting contact with the child who’d become so dear to her in
the month since she’d arrived at the orphanage. Arrived? She’d been deposited Polly had been discarded
Unaware of the turns
Evelyn’s thoughts had taken, Polly grinned. “I know how. I watched you. You
gotta
“That’s right. You’re a
smart girl.”
“My daddy said that too.
He said I was the smartest girl in the whole county and that I was worth more
than a thousand bales of cotton.”
Polly’s smile turned
upside down, reminding Evelyn of the story she’d told about her father being
put in a box in the ground. Evelyn was all too familiar with those boxes, but
she’d been fortunate enough to have her parents with her for thirteen years
before the night when everything changed. Polly was only six, or so she said.
Think about Polly, Evelyn
told herself, not the night when it had rained hard enough to muffle her
screams from passersby. The sheriff had told her he’d arrested and hanged the
man responsible. He’d assured her she had no reason to fear, and yet she did.
Ten years wasn’t long enough to erase the memories, particularly when she could
feel someone watching her.
“I miss my daddy.” Tears
welled in Polly’s eyes. “I want him to come back.”
“I know you do.”
Despite her nod, tears
began to trickle down Polly’s cheeks.
“Buster said some girls
get new daddies. He said people come looking for good little girls.” She looked
up at Evelyn, pleading in her eyes. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
“You’ve been very good,”
Evelyn reassured her. But that wouldn’t be enough. Three couples had come to
the orphanage since Polly’s arrival, and all three had been unwilling to adopt
a child with such a prominent birthmark.
“It’s Satan’s mark,” one
woman had announced. When she’d heard that, Evelyn had been tempted to gouge
the woman’s cheek and give her her own mark.
“I want a new daddy.”
Polly was nothing if not persistent. Persistent and stubborn. No matter how
many times Evelyn and Mrs. Folger asked, she refused to tell them her last
name. “I can’t,” she insisted. “I can’t.”
Amanda Cabot is the bestselling author of the Cimarron Creek trilogy,
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One Grand Prize Winner:
Copy of Out of the Embers + Special Hill Country Sweets Cookbook
+$25 Barnes and Noble Gift Card
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Copy of Out of the Embers + Special Hill Country Sweets Cookbook
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