Help me welcome Sandra Jones as we celebrate her new release, Her wicked Captain.
Her
Wicked Captain
River
Rogues #1
By: Sandra Jones
Releasing November 4, 2014
Samhain Publishing
Blurb
She played right into his hands.
Possessing
uncanny people-reading skills like her mama, Philadelphia “Dell” Samuels has
spent thirteen years in her aunt’s rustic Ozarks home, telling fortunes over
playing cards and trying to pass as white. But the treacherous Mississippi
River childhood her mama dragged her away from finally catches up to her on a
steamboat captained by her old friend Rory Campbell.
Known
to his crew as the Devil’s Henchman, Rory is a gambler in need of a miracle.
Following the cold trail of his boss’s wife and bastard daughter, Dell, Rory
has only one goal in mind: saving his crew from the boss’s cruelty by ruining
him. The only one who can defeat the Monster of the Mississippi is the man
trained to take his place. Rory’s convinced he can lure his boss into a
high-stakes game against a rival, and with Dell’s people-reading skills, the
monster will lose everything.
Under
Rory’s tutelage and protection, Dell agrees to the tortured captain’s plan.
Passion and peril quickly bring them together as lovers. But when Rory’s plan
goes awry, the lives of the innocent depend on Dell’s ability to read the
situation correctly—and hopefully save them all.
An Excerpt from HER
WICKED CAPTAIN
If he hadn’t introduced
himself, Dell wouldn’t have recognized him. Her childhood memories came in
spurts and flickers like sparks drifting up from a burning log, to vanish into
the void of a black sky. She recalled how big everything had seemed—her mama’s
dressing room, the nice bed where she slept the day away, and the giant paddle
wheels as the steamboats came into port. How the kids would come running from
the city streets to gather around each arriving ship like a swarm of giddy
flies, and the older girls would wave at her friend—her playmate, Rory.
“Gory Rory. You ate a
pollywog catfish? Ew!” She’d once
teased. Gory Rory? Had she really called him that?
Presently, the captain’s
strong arms went around her as he lifted her over the rail. His hands lingered
on her sides a moment past propriety.
Flushing, she stepped
aside. “Thank you.”
He winked at her and helped
hoist the rest of the party up from the keelboat onto the packet’s leaning
deck. Standing behind her cousins, Dell could still feel the branding on her
ribs where his hands had touched her. She willed herself not to panic, but her
pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. She couldn’t hide, nor could
she return to the riverbank, though every second she stood under his nose was
another second he might recognize her.
She couldn’t allow that to
happen.
The steamboat’s whistle
rattled to life, and she jerked as if she’d been shot, grabbing the rail. The
deafening roars and metallic tones sounded overhead as she gritted her teeth.
She vaguely recalled standing too near as a babe, and now fought the instinct
to cover her ears like the wailing brat she’d been back then.
For whatever reason, her
mama had moved her hundreds of miles away, leaving their home and her husband,
Quintus Moreaux. Now here was his former ward, Rory Campbell, standing more
than six foot tall with wide shoulders and a rogue’s grin, less than eight feet
away.
He and the freedman gave
the final visitor, Mr. Gaskin, a boost onto the boat. The lumber mill owner
joked that he’d gladly salvage the boards of the vessel, to which Rory declined
with rich laughter and clapped a hand on his back.
The shy Rory that Dell
remembered had soft, boyish round cheeks, and wasn’t able to put together more
than two words around her pretty mother. The confident man standing before them
now wore a shadow of golden whiskers on a rigid jaw, but he had the same eyes,
the color of green bottle glass lit by sunlight. While the others headed for
the bow, her former friend singled her out, sharing his infectious
smile.
He bowed slightly, gesturing with his hat. “Ladies
first.”
Dell ran unsteady hands down the pleats of her dusty
clothes to chase away the twinges of her stomach. She mustn’t call attention to
herself. If she lost her composure, he would surely figure out she was
Eleanor’s bastard daughter, fathered by one of Moreaux’s black workers. One
word from him about her mixed blood, and the town would turn on her.
“Thank you,” she murmured again and glided past,
keeping her head down. She felt his measuring gaze, and her chest heated in
response.
Sarah and Nathaniel were just steps ahead with the
preacher, weaving from the rail, straining to see as much of the vessel as
possible. Dell hurried to catch up. Rory’s tread creaked ominously on the deck
behind her.
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Author Info
Historical romance author Sandra Jones was born and raised in Arkansas. She loves living in a cabin overlooking White River where she enjoys watching eagles and dreaming about the adventurous frontiersmen who once traveled past in steamboats. When she’s not reading, writing or researching, she’s the cook for her cranky old tom cat, her husband of more than 25 years, and her two grown sons. She also loves to chat with her fans.
Author Links
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/SandraJones
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