She has the guts and willpower to protect her home from the hated Yankee aggressors, but when that traitor to the South appears at her door, she’s torn between wanting to shoot him and to be held in his arms again. Can she forgive him for their past indiscretion or does she turn him in to be executed, a traitor to both sides?
In the summer of 1862, her family’s plantation becomes the personal battle ground between them as deceit, betrayal and passion ignite the flames of love and hate that burn brighter than the roar of the guns and rivers of blood surrounding them.
Find out where your enemy is. Get
at him as soon as you can, and strike him as hard as you can. And keep moving
on!
General U.S. Grant
Virginia, June
1862
Emma Silvers was not afraid to shoot Yankees.
She leveled the .57 caliber Enfield rifle at the line of blue coats
standing before her porch at Rose Hill that evening. She counted ten men, fully
armed and wielding torches. They reeked of wet wool, sweat and gun powder–a
noxious mixture combined with the scent of pink roses surrounding the house.
Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard.
The officer took a step forward. In the dim light, she couldn’t
discern his face, though she saw him flinch as she pointed the muzzle at him.
“I want you off my land, now,”
she demanded, her voice remarkably even despite her pounding heart. At
twenty-two years and virtually alone, she knew one able-bodied man could easily
overwhelm her. With no able men and few slaves remaining, she only had bravado
left.
“Now, ma’am,” the Union
officer began. He spoke like a gentleman, but, dressed in blue, he was an
imposter as far as she was concerned.
Jeremiah, just behind her
right shoulder, cocked the hammer on his rifle—a welcome sound to her ears. Good boy, Emma thought. If the Yankees
didn’t believe she was a threat, she hoped the armed slave boy next to her got
the message across. She wasn’t allowing any soldiers on her property again.
The rifle felt heavier by the
minute, making her muscles ache, and she feared she’d drop it. The weapon was
foreign to her hands, but as the war raged closer to her home, she learned to
use it. She wasn’t very good at it, but, as close as the Yankees were, she was
bound to hit one of them. She didn’t want to pull the trigger. The gun’s recoil
would knock her off her feet, throwing her aim off. With so few bullets left,
she’d hate to lose the shot.
The light streamed through the
open front door across the officer as he stepped onto the porch. She saw his
face and the nose of the gun slipped. Jack Fontaine, that good-for-nothing
traitor! How dare he come here, especially after what had happened last summer?
Rage took control and gave her the added strength to pull the muzzle up to his
chest as she cocked the trigger.
“Emma, please,” he said
softly. He looked at her the same way he had that night months ago, his green
eyes glowing like emeralds in the light. She remembered those eyes, those
mesmerizing emerald eyes. They were all hers the night she had lost her heart
to him. The night he had betrayed her. Her anger flared. No. Not this time. Not
again, she vowed. Gritting her teeth, Emma narrowed her gaze.
“Get away from me, Jack, or I
swear to God, I’ll blow a hole through you and send you straight to hell!”
Inside the house, a babe
wailed. Emma instinctively turned. Jack reached for her and she panicked,
squeezing the trigger. The rifle exploded, throwing her backwards, pain
shooting into her shoulder. But instead of falling, she found herself in Jack’s
arms as they wrapped around her, shielding her back from the impact of the
wooden floor.
The patrol stormed onto the porch and into the house. Lying in his
embrace, his body shielding hers as his troops marched past them, Emma couldn’t
breathe. Her eyes were wide open. She felt the heat of him around her. The
scent of him invaded her senses. Warm, masculine, and spicy rolled into one.
She fought the heat in her belly, but it was hard as his eyes locked onto hers,
his lips only inches away.
She closed her eyes. Behind
her, the wailing continued, and she heard the thud of soldiers' boots inside.
Her jaw tightened as she glared at him. “Get off me, Jack.”
A USA Today
Bestselling author, Gina Danna was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and has spent
the better part of her life reading. History has always been her love and she
spent numerous hours devouring historical romance stories, always dreaming of
writing one of her own. After years of writing historical academic papers to
achieve her undergraduate and graduate degrees in History, and then for museum
programs and exhibits, she found the time to write her own historical romantic
fiction novels.
Now residing in Texas, under the supervision of her three dogs, she writes amid a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time with her other lifelong dream - her Arabian horse - with him, her muse can play.
Now residing in Texas, under the supervision of her three dogs, she writes amid a library of research books, with her only true break away is to spend time with her other lifelong dream - her Arabian horse - with him, her muse can play.
Website / Facebook / Twitter
Thank you for having me! :)
ReplyDeleteyou are so welcome! :D
Delete