Stranger Ranger, an all-new standalone contemporary romance from USA Today bestselling author Daisy Prescott, is now available in Kindle Unlimited!

New park ranger Daphne Baum is a reformed good girl. Breaking free from her overbearing family as soon as she turned eighteen, she’s been on her own ever since. The life of a park ranger, moving from park to park, suits her just fine. Though still a rule follower, she’s okay with a little sin in her life.

Every generation of Hill men has its black sheep. The general consensus among the family is that Odin Hill is the lucky bastard this go around. At seventeen, he blew out of town like an angry tornado only to return fifteen years later withdrawn and secretive. Living like a recluse in the hollows in the Smoky Mountains, he’s happy to keep to himself and is content to let locals believe he’s the town weirdo. Odin prefers the company of his pet pig to the nosy citizens of Green Valley.

When Daphne discovers Odin might be committing nefarious deeds on park land, she vows to find out the truth behind the handsome, yet chaotic, loner. Will the stranger help the ranger discover the difference between being good and doing the right thing? Or will they find themselves on opposite sides of love?

‘Stranger Ranger’ is a full-length contemporary romance, can be read as a standalone, and is book #2 in the Park Ranger series, Green Valley World, Penny Reid Book Universe.

Download your copy of Stranger Ranger TODAY!

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My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

The only vegetable I’ve ever seen you eat is a potato, preferably fried or formed into a tot.

“Is that apple cake? There are free samples. Bet they’d be nice enough to let us have more than one.” Her steps falter as she swivels her head, pausing and sniffing the air like a velociraptor.

Because our last name is Hill, some people like to joke that we put the hill in hillbilly. Some people think they have a sense of humor when they’re just being mean-spirited. As my Nannie Ida always says, glasshouses provide good views, but then again, so do mirrors.

This woman makes no sense. One minute she’s accusing me of being a criminal, and the next she’s petting my bicep like a baby animal.

“I love your accent.” She sighs, her eyes all dreamy like I’m her favorite boy band member.

I should know better. Both assumption and bias have “ass” in them.

My Review:

When you need to add a smile to your day you can always count on a Smartypants Romance to provide not just one but several.   This amusing slow burn romance was hours of fun. Stranger Ranger features a female forest ranger who becomes rather obsessed and intrigued with Odin, a former small-town hillbilly turned world-class chef who has traveled the world before returning to his hometown for a simpler life of farming and foraging. Odin enjoys walking his beloved pet pig, Patsy Swine, down Mainstreet. And if that doesn’t make you smile then you should consider consulting with your doctor regarding the possible need for pharmaceutical assistance.

Check out Happy Trail, book 1 in the Park Ranger series of standalones, FREE in Kindle Unlimited!

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Excerpt

By early afternoon, the crowd at the farmers’ market fades, leaving only stragglers, bargainers, and tourists sampling the charms of small town life.

I’ve had enough people for the week I’m looking forward to the quiet of my own company. All the talking and friendly chatter exhaust me. You’d think vegetables would sell themselves given they’re pretty self-explanatory. Yet folks wanna hear a story about a carrot being grown from the guy who pulled it out of the dirt himself. So I play my part of the happy farmer at the stand. It’s my bad luck I’ve always been charming. Part of my DNA.

My family has lived in the mountains surrounding Green Valley longer than anyone around here can remember. Before there was a National Park or even a Cades Cove, the Hills had established a homestead in the Smokies straddling Tennessee and North Carolina.

Because our last name is Hill, some people like to joke we put the hill in hillbilly. Jethro Winston for example. He’s hysterical. Some people think they have a sense of humor when they’re just being mean-spirited. As my Nannie Ida always says, glass houses provide good views, but then again, so do mirrors.

This is why I prefer the company of Patsy over most folks. She’s smart, a good listener, tidy, and doesn’t give a damn about my family and reputation. She has more class than a lot of the gossips and Sunday church-goers around here.

After I consolidate the remaining produce into crates and load up the van, I fold the tables and collapse my tent. While I work, the face of the brunette ranger floats through my mind.

She looked familiar but I didn’t recognize her name. It isn’t likely our paths have crossed. I don’t get out much and I’m not hanging around the bars or the visitor center in Cades Cove. Normally, one of my cousins covers the stand at the weekly farmers’ market and I can avoid the crowds. This is what happens when I let my guard down and am forced to engage with the public. I get iceberg and Bible quotes. I’ve never been a fan of either.

Bothered I’m still thinking about her, I close and lock up the van.

“Come on Patsy, let’s go for a walk.”

She gives a happy snort and steps closer to where her leash hangs on the top rail of her pen.

When the two of us stroll through town, folks stare. It’s worse when they insist on sharing a comment, tell the same old joke, and, in general, make a fuss. Honestly, I assume at this point people seeing the two of us together would be old news around here.

Guess some folks don’t have enough going on in their lives that they need to make commentary about people minding their own damn business.

I don’t understand what the big deal is about a man walking his pig.

Patsy’s excellent on a leash. Doesn’t pull. Has never instigated fights with dogs. Hasn’t bit anyone. Doesn’t do her business in the middle of the sidewalk. In my mind, she’s much better mannered than any old hound dog.

She’s pretty darn perfect in every conceivable way.

Except the one time she trampled Mrs. MacClure’s flower bed. Even that was my fault for not paying closer attention to where we were walking.

If I had to find fault with her, Patsy thinks she’s in charge. And she’s a little more than spoiled. I only have myself to blame.

“Clarice, please tell me you see that man walking his pig.” A woman shouts to her friend and points from about three feet away.

“I’m not invisible,” I tell her with a flat smile.

“Oh dear.” Her companion rolls her eyes. “You’re a tall drink of cool water, aren’t you?”

The question is rhetorical. Being compared to a refreshing beverage doesn’t require a response, so I remain quiet. Patsy tugs on her leash and releases a frustrated snort that we’ve stopped walking.

“You two have a nice day, m‘kay.” I step off the sidewalk to pass them.

I’d like to say their behavior is atypical. If I hear “You’re like the Jolly Green Giant. Only less green” one more time …

For the record, I am not jolly.

There must be something in the well water around here. We grow ‘em tall in Green Valley.

Does a pig need to be walked on leash for health and exercise? No.

I’m the only weirdo in all of Green Valley who likes to take my daily constitutional accompanied by a sow. Not even Cletus Winston is as much of an oddball as I am. And that’s saying something.

He’s only interested in pigs and boar in terms of sausage. In my opinion, he’s missing out. If we were friends, or even friendly acquaintances, I might suggest we partner up. Truffle salami can be incredible. Or so I remember. I don’t eat pork anymore. Not since I’ve had Patsy. I’d be offended if she ate human body parts around me.

Hogs will eat pretty much anything you give them. A few years ago a pig farmer went missing. Wife said he ran off with his mistress. Everyone believed her until his gold tooth turned up in the muck and mud of their hog pens. Macabre, but true.

I don’t eat pork and Patsy doesn’t eat me. It’s an unspoken pact between us.

Not that she’s some sort of demon pig crazed with bloodlust. Not at all. She’s the best pig in eastern Tennessee. Don’t need a blue ribbon from the state fair to make it true.

This leisurely stroll around town is all part of my ruse.

If someone sees us ambling someplace we don’t belong, they’ll leave us alone, which is the entire point.

There’s freedom in being a weirdo. Folks keep their distance. Sure, there are the asinine comments, but for the most part they assume I’m dim-witted or crazy. Fine by me. With or without my porcine sidekick, I’ve always been different. I learned early on that people like to form and hold onto their own opinions. Pointless to try to change someone’s mind. What they think of me is their problem, not mine.

About Daisy Prescott

Born and raised in San Diego, Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband, their rescue dog, Mulder, and an imaginary house goat. When not writing about herself in the third person, Daisy can be found traveling, gardening, baking, or lost in a good book.

Find Daisy Prescott online

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About the Author

 

A novelist and award-winning journalist, Kathryn Casey is the author of eleven highly acclaimed true crime books and the creator of the Sarah Armstrong mystery series. Library Journal picked THE KILLING STORM as one of the best mysteries of 2010. Her latest true crime, IN PLAIN SIGHT, investigates the Kaufman County prosecutor murders, a case that made worldwide headlines. Casey has appeared on Oprah, 20/20, the Today Show, Good Morning America, the Biography Channel, Reelz, The Travel Network, Investigation Discovery, and many other venues. Ann Rule called Casey “one of the best in the true-crime genre.”

kathryncasey.com

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@KathrynCasey

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The Staycation, an all-new laugh-out-loud story of fun and a holiday escape close to home by USA Today bestselling author Michele Gorman is out now!

Two families. One canceled flight. And a last-minute house swap…

Things get desperate for strangers Harriet and Sophie when they become stranded with their families in Heathrow’s Terminal 5. Each woman has her own reason for really really really needing the family holiday they’ve anticipated for months. But Iceland’s volcano has other plans for them. When their flights are canceled, the families swap houses and discover that sometimes the best things in life happen close to home.

This ash cloud has a silver lining, even if no one can quite see it yet.

Download your copy today!
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My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

Dogs smelled, and they sniffed crotches and licked their bits and breathed their bitty breath into your face. She didn’t actually know what kind of dog it was, but she was sure it did all of those things.

Your crown is crooked, drama queen…

There were enough scented candles to light a Roman Catholic Mass, but not one had been lit anywhere in the house. Someone was either romantically optimistic or had a friend who thought their house could use the extra fragrance.

How wonderful to be a bird, she thought. Except for catching live rodents and tearing them up into little pieces for dinner and living on top of the whole family in a cramped nest. Still, the flying would be nice.

‘I loved having babies, the way they’re so warm and snuggly. I craved the feeling, the smell.’ ‘That’s just the hormones your body makes so you don’t eat your baby,’ Harriet said.

My Review:

Michele Gorman is a wickedly clever, highly observant, and insightful lexicographer. I adore her wry humor and perceptive storytelling, she weaves quite an amusing tale with red herrings and unexpected tricks thrown in for added kicks. I cringed, gnashed my teeth, and giggle-snorted my way through this engaging story featuring vastly different women.

Harriet and Sophie were polar opposites in most ways, although they were both going through a similar period of adjustment and significant marital concerns while away from home during a much-needed vacation. Harriet was controlling, rigid, uptight, impatient, selfish, thoughtlessly insensitive and blunt, painfully and obnoxiously OCD and mostly like also a high functioning Aspergers. Sophie was easy-going, loosely organized, and eager to please.   I enjoyed the dichotomy although Harriet was difficult for me to appreciate as well as being uncomfortably familiar as she was a judgmental cold fish with limited social skills and not someone I would choose to spend time with as I had already suffered this unfortunate fate during my first eighteen years of life. Yet Ms. Gorman tricked me into caring for and about her, which is a testament to her mad skills.

Excerpt

‘Do you really have to do that?’ Harriet glared, first at the nose, then at her husband attached to it. It was a fine one, as noses went. She’d probably adored it when they were young and in love, even paid it cutesy compliments. Now she wanted to fill it with the entire pot of muesli yogurt he was eating and watch it set like the quick-dry grout she’d used on the bathroom tiles last month.

‘Do what, my darling?’ James’s smile beamed with pure adoration. Sod that Leo DiCaprio. She’d nominate James for an Oscar any day. The winner of this year’s Best Performance by a Husband in a Dicey Marriage category is: James Cooper, for the third year in a row!

‘That. Your nose is whistling.’ She could hear it wheezing over the announcement of another flight cancellation. Athens, this time. ‘It’s annoying.’

‘My breathing annoys you?’

‘You’re free to breathe, James. Just do it quietly.’

He shared a look with their daughter over the mountain of hand luggage on Harriet’s lap.

Billie wouldn’t tear her eyes from that bloody phone if Harriet’s knickers were on fire, but for her dad? She was sympathy personified.

‘Oh, don’t you start too,’ Harriet warned her.

Billie saluted, though her eyes drifted back to her screen. ‘Not breathing, sir, sorry, sir.’

‘Can you at least listen for an announcement instead of obsessing over your phone. Who are you emailing anyway?’

‘Pfft. Emailing. Mum, you’re ancient.’

James pointed his chin at the Departures board. ‘We can see what’s happening. Same thing that’s been happening since we got here. It’s delayed. They’re all delayed. Even you can’t do anything about that, so why not just relax? Besides, I’m sure with your hearing you’d pick up any announcements dead easy.’

‘If your breathing doesn’t drown it out.’ She scanned the board. The Budapest flight was still showing a gate. That would be promising, if they were going there instead of Rome. ‘Bloody ash cloud. Bloody volcano,’ she mumbled.

James smiled at her. ‘I wish I had a quid for every time that thing erupted.’

‘You’d have three quid in the last two hundred years. I wouldn’t make it your retirement plan. Best stick to your goats, Bill Gates.’

‘This is fun,’ Billie said. ‘No, really, can we go on holiday together all the time?’

Harriet crossed her arms – not easy with a lap full of luggage – closed her eyes and tried to imagine being in Rome already. Apparently being happy and content was all in the mind. What was it again? Mindfulness? No, it was the other bollocks. Positive visualisation. That was it.

Breathing deeply, Harriet imagined all the whingeing was the happy buzz of fellow travellers savouring their coffee in an ancient cobbled square near the River Tiber. The algae-tinged scent of the water tumbled over garlicky cooking smells as they wafted from the al fresco restaurants. Those weren’t passenger announcements but the distant zooming of the Vespas that carried Romans, young and old, about their business in the sun-drenched city. She could almost taste the delicate almondy crumbliness of the biscotti as she lifted it, after a perfect dunk, from her steaming cappuccino. Her film star glasses shielded her eyes but she could feel the sun warming her hair, picking out the highlights she’d begrudgingly paid over a hundred quid for. The knicker-squirmingly gorgeous man who’d been giving her bedroom eyes from the next table leaned over and said—

‘Mum, I’m hungry. And crampy. I need something to eat. Have you got any paracetamol?’

Was it too much to ask for two minutes of la dolce vita in peace?

Meet Michele Gorman:

Michele writes comedies packed with lots of heart, best friends, and girl power. She is both a Sunday Times and a USA Today bestselling author, raised in the US, and living with her husband in London. Michele also writes cozy comedies under the pen-name, Lilly Bartlett. Lilly’s books are full of warmth, quirky characters, and guaranteed happily-ever-afters.

Connect with Michele:
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Website: http://www.michelegorman.co.uk/

My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

Her glacial tone would freeze hell over when she left this world. No way would she go anywhere but south when she did.

 Today, all of those choices seemed as appealing as a bowl of hair soup.

 Penelope had unearthed my cheekbones with the skill of a veteran archeologist.

 I wasn’t just up shit creek without a paddle, I’d fallen out of the boat.

Malcolm looked as if he’d time-traveled from Wall Street circa 1985. Pin-striped suit, slicked-back hair— revealing a widow’s peak Dracula would’ve run through sunlight for— and a chunky monogrammed ring.

 …if still waters ran deep, he was the human equivalent of the Mariana Trench.

My Review:

I have been on a lucky streak lately and seem to be discovering a new favorite author every few days. I appear to be as fickle as an eighth-grade girl but it bares shouting that the clever Hannah Mary McKinnon is a wily minx. This twisty thriller kept me taut with tension, nibbling on my cuticles, and feeling on edge due to the mousy main protagonist’s out of character behaviors putting her at constant risk of discovery.

Eleanor was a binge eater who ate her emotions, something I well understand, and given the treatment she had received from her horrid harridan of a mother, Eleanor had a lot of them to swallow. The storylines were oozing with apprehension, heartbreak, indecision, bad choices, inner conflicts, guilt, resentment, bitterness, indignation, triumphs, empowerment, duplicity, and an awe-inspiring and shocking conclusion that left me addled with the taste of ashes in my mouth while my gaping lips flapped like a goldfish who had jumped the tank– it was outstanding!