A Scarred Rancher’s Burnt Past (Preview)


Grab my new series, "Western Brides and True Loves", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

Chapter One

The sun shone brightly in the sky, casting its golden rays over the dusty streets of Silverton, Colorado, warming the wooden storefronts and cast iron hitching posts. Men in broad-brimmed hats tended to their horses while women in long calico dresses bustled in and out of the general store, baskets overflowing with supplies. Outside the blacksmith’s workshop, the steady clang of hammer on anvil rang out as Chris Montgomery worked the bellows, stoking the flames in the brick forge.

Lisa Montgomery made her way down Main Street, keeping her gloved hand tucked close against her side. Though the accident had happened years ago, she still felt self-conscious about the scarred fingers that marred her otherwise delicate hand. She found ways to work around the limited motion in her left hand, but in Silverton, flaws were not easily forgotten. She longed for the day when she could break free of this small town and make a fresh start somewhere new.

All around her, folks went about their daily business – women gossiping outside the general store, men loading supplies onto wagons headed west. Silverton was a boomtown, but to Lisa it felt confining, like a gilded cage.

She found herself drawn to the train platform on the edge of town. As she watched the smoke curling up from a departing engine, she imagined herself on one of those cars, putting the mountains at her back and heading out to places unknown. What adventures awaited out there beyond Silverton’s familiar horizons?

A piercing train whistle jolted Lisa from her daydream. With a sigh, she turned away from the tracks. Much as she might dream of leaving, she knew her father would never allow it.

Lisa slowly made her way back through town. Back to the workshop, where her father would be impatiently waiting for his lunch. Back to the same stifling routine that each day seemed to close in around her a little more tightly. She quickened her pace, steeling herself for another tense and silent meal alone with her father, wishing once more that her life could be different. That she could feel, just for a moment, truly free.

As she neared the workshop, Lisa took a deep breath and fixed a smile on her face. Her father would be expecting his noon meal. She clutched the basket closer and stepped through the open door into the sweltering heat of the forge.

“Afternoon, Pa,” she said brightly, setting the basket on a workbench.

Chris glanced up, his face streaked with soot. “Lisa,” he grunted before turning back to his work. Lisa bit her lip. No matter how hard she tried to please him, conversation was always a struggle. She lingered a moment, watching as he expertly shaped a horseshoe. A part of her longed to join him at the anvil, but she knew better than to ask.

Lisa set the basket down on a worktable, careful not to disturb any of her father’s meticulously arranged tools. He barely glanced up as she began laying out their simple meal – bread, cheese, and a few apples.

“I brought you something to eat.” Lisa quietly said.

Her father grunted in reply, putting down his hammer at last. Chris Montgomery was a man of few words. He crossed to the wash basin and cleaned his grimy hands, then took a seat across from Lisa. They ate in silence for several minutes. Lisa searched for something to say, some way to bridge the gaping distance between them, but came up empty.

Just then, the workshop door banged open. Lisa looked up to see Tim, the town’s young sheriff, swaggering towards them.

“Afternoon, Chris,” he said, tipping his hat. “Miss Lisa, you’re looking lovely as ever today.”

Lisa pressed her lips together. Tim’s flirtations were tiresome. “Hello, Sheriff. Can we help you with something?”

“I was hoping you’d take a walk with me later. The sunset over the valley is a mighty fine sight.”

Lisa shook her head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll have to decline.”

Tim’s face fell. “Come now, Miss Lisa, just one walk-”

“She said no,” Chris snapped, glaring at the crestfallen sheriff. “Now is there something else we can help you with?”

Tim backed away, hands raised. “Apologies. I’ll leave you folks to your meal.”

He hurried out the door. Lisa let out a breath, relief washing over her. But a glance at her father’s stormy expression made her heart sink all over again. This was not over.

Lisa stared down at her plate, pushing the remnants of her meal around with a fork. She could feel her father’s eyes on her, his disapproval like a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders.

“That’s the second suitor you’ve dismissed,” he said finally. His voice was hard, clipped. “People are starting to talk.”

Lisa’s throat tightened. She kept her gaze fixed on her plate. “So what? I don’t care what people say.”

“You should care. You’re not getting any younger, Lisa. It’s time you settled down, found yourself a good man. It’s your duty. And you can’t continue living under this roof forever.”

Anger and hurt rose up in Lisa’s chest. She lifted her chin, met her father’s stony gaze. “I’ll marry when I’m ready. Not before.”

Chris’s jaw tightened, his eyes glinting. “Don’t be a fool. How many offers do you think are going to come along?” He gestured at her hand. Lisa recoiled as if she’d been slapped, shame flooding her.

Tears stung Lisa’s eyes. She stood abruptly, grabbing the basket from the table. Her father’s words had shattered the fragile hope she’d nurtured, that one day he might see past her disability, and the memories it stirred up. But how could he, when she was just a daily reminder of the wife he’d lost?

“I’m not some burden you have to get rid of,” she said thickly, “and offers seem to be coming along just fine. But if you want me gone so badly, I’ll leave. There’s a whole world out there, and it’s got to be better than this.”

“That’s not what I said. But I can’t take care of you forever,” he said firmly, staring down at his plate.

She fled the shop, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her father didn’t try to stop her.

Lisa hurried down the familiar street with tears in her eyes, golden hair billowing in the breeze, heedless of the townspeople that stared after her. She felt flayed open, her father’s words more painful than she could bear.

All her life she’d tried to be the perfect daughter, to make up for her mother’s death, her own injury. She’d thought it would be enough for him, but now she saw the truth. Her throat tightened. He would never see past the accident that took his wife away from him and left Lisa scarred, forever. No wonder he wanted her gone, as soon as possible. She was just a reminder of what he’d lost.

As she reached the edge of town, the hustle and bustle of Silverton faded into the distance and Lisa shivered as the chill that lingered in the early spring air seeped through her clothes.

Lisa glanced back. She wished she could find her own path in this world, and maybe, just maybe, a place where she belonged. Somewhere she was seen as more than just the scarred girl who lost her mother. But she was scared to venture into the unknown alone, no matter what she told her father. There was no point in dreaming about the impossible.

With a deep sigh, Lisa started walking home.

Chapter Two

The sun beat down relentlessly on Derek’s back as he hammered a new post into the weathered fence. His shirt clung to his muscular frame, damp with sweat. The ranch stretched for miles in every direction, the rugged Montana landscape both isolating and freeing.

At Derek’s feet, his faithful companion Miles lay panting in the shade cast by the horses. The old dog’s eyes never left Derek, his tail thumping happily whenever Derek paused to take a swig from his canteen.

“Getting too hot for you, boy?” Derek asked, crouching down to scratch behind the dog’s ear. Miles licked Derek’s scarred hand in response, unfazed by the twisted skin. The two had been inseparable since Derek took over the ranch, finding solace in each other’s quiet company.

Derek rose with a groan, his joints stiff from hours of labor. Running the ranch alone was backbreaking work, but he took pride in restoring it to its former glory. His family’s legacy depended on it.

Miles followed Derek to the next post, panting cheerfully. Derek chuckled and patted the dog’s head.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done here. Then we’ll head down to the creek for a swim, how’s that sound?”

Miles barked excitedly, never tiring of their daily routine. Come rain or shine, it was the two of them against the world.

Derek lifted his hammer to resume working on the fence, but paused at the sound of an approaching wagon. Turning, he saw a cloud of dust rising down the road as George’s rickety wagon came into view.

Though friendly, the farmer’s visits often interrupted Derek’s solitude when he stopped by for a chat or to lend a hand.

“Morning Derek!” George called out with a wave and toothy grin. He brought the wagon to a stop and climbed down, his jovial face red from the heat. “Brought those supplies we talked about last week. Nails, some lumber, and a new plow blade.”

Derek nodded in thanks, wiping the sweat from his brow as he regarded the state of his ranch. The fence was sagging in areas, the barn needed a new roof, and the fields required tilling before he could plant the season’s crops.

George followed his gaze, hands on his hips. “Still got a lot of work ahead of you, eh? This place has seen better days, but I know you’ll get it back in order.” He walked over and inspected the section of fence Derek was working on. “Going to need more posts here though if you want this fence sturdy.”

Derek bristled slightly, reluctant to accept criticism from anyone. But he had to admit George had a point.

“And with the stables needing repair, you could really use some extra hands around here,” George continued amiably. “I know some strong lads in town looking for work. What do you say?”

Derek opened his mouth to politely decline the offer, not wanting to admit he couldn’t afford to hire any more help than he already did. But before he could respond, the distant whinny of a horse caught his attention, followed by the creak of wooden wheels on the dirt road…

Derek tensed as he spotted another wagon approaching, his hands instinctively moving to pull his hat lower over his scarred face. It was rare for him to have one visitor out here, let alone two in the same day.

As the wagon drew closer, Derek recognized the driver as Albert, one of the local ranchers. Beside Albert sat a girl in a faded blue calico dress – his daughter Millie, if Derek remembered correctly.

Derek felt a swell of discomfort. He knew his scarred appearance often unsettled people. He preferred solitude partially to avoid those uneasy stares.

Albert brought the creaky wagon to a stop nearby. “Afternoon Derek! George!” he called in a hearty voice.

Derek mumbled a greeting, avoiding eye contact. George returned Albert’s enthusiastic hello, asking about his family and farm happenings. Derek shifted uneasily as the three exchanged pleasantries, feeling increasingly out of place.

Millie hopped down from the wagon and headed straight for Derek with a smile. “Mr. Bryson! So nice to see you again.”

Derek nodded, taken aback by her lack of hesitation. “Miss Millie. Good to see you too.”

Her friendliness eased his discomfort slightly. But he still anxiously adjusted his hat, very aware of their presence interrupting his solitary day.

Albert approached, his weathered face crinkling into a warm smile.

“Derek, I was passing through and wanted to stop by and congratulate you. Heard your brother Tom and his wife are expecting!”

Derek froze, stunned. His grip on his hat went slack. Tom was going to be a father? He might not have spoken to his brother for years, but this still shocked him for some reason.

Millie glanced between Derek and her father quizzically. “Mr. Bryson? Are you alright?”

Derek hardly heard her. His thoughts reeled, trying to process this revelation. Tom starting a family? And no one had told him?

Sudden anger flared in his chest. But the anger quickly faded to an unexpected ache. He had no right to be upset when he’d cut Tom out himself. And now a niece or nephew was on the way – family he might never meet.

The whirl of emotions must have shown on Derek’s face. Albert’s smile faded to concern.

“I’m sorry Derek, I thought you knew already,” he said gently, “even after everything…”

Derek quickly composed himself, adjusting his hat once more. “It’s quite alright Albert. I appreciate you passing along the news.”

But inside, his heart was heavy. Tom was moving on with life while he remained here alone.

Albert nodded, though his eyes were still full of sympathy. An awkward silence fell over the group.

Derek cleared his throat. “Well, I best be getting back to work. But thank you again for stopping by.”

He nodded to Albert and Millie. The older man touched the brim of his hat in return.

“Of course. Take care of yourself Derek.”

Albert flicked the reins and the wagon slowly lumbered off, leaving Derek standing pensively in its wake.

Miles whined and nosed Derek’s hand, stirring him from his thoughts. He sighed and scratched the dog’s ears absently.

“A baby, huh boy?” he murmured.

Miles tilted his head with a little huff, as if in commiseration.

Derek gazed across the ranch, taking in the dilapidated fence lines and overgrown fields. This land held so many memories, good and bad. It was all he had left now.

But then there was Tom, starting a new chapter of life while old wounds still festered between them.

Derek had just begun to regain his focus, the thoughts of his estranged brother and the impending family news slowly receding into the background, when the tranquil facade of the ranch was shattered by a sudden, deafening crash.

Miles sprang to his feet, barking in alarm, as Derek turned to the source of the commotion. His heart raced as he saw a massive cloud of dust rising beyond the barn, where the unmistakable sound of splintering wood and neighing horses emanated.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Derek sprinted towards the barn, his powerful legs propelling him forward. The worry and confusion from earlier were swept away by the immediate need to assess the situation and protect the animals.

As he approached the barn, he was met with a heart-wrenching sight. Part of the barn’s aged roof had finally given way under the relentless Montana sun, collapsing into a chaotic jumble of beams and debris. Horses, spooked and panicked, raced in all directions.

Derek’s eyes darted around, looking for any signs of injury. The thought of losing any of his few, beloved animals was unbearable. He spotted George, who had also rushed to the scene, helping to calm the terrified horses and clear the wreckage.

“George, we need to get them under control,” Derek shouted above the chaos, and they worked together to herd the horses to safety.

Derek couldn’t help but wonder if the collapsing barn was an omen of things to come. His thoughts on family and the past, momentarily set aside, now resurfaced with newfound urgency. The sudden emergency had reminded him that life on the ranch was unpredictable, and he maybe couldn’t ignore the need for help any longer.

But before he could dwell further on this decision, he heard a faint cry from beneath the wreckage, a sound that filled him with dread and urgency. One of his horses was still trapped, and time was running out. Derek steeled himself and, without a second thought, rushed toward the debris, determined to save the trapped animal.

Chapter Three

Lisa walked home from her father’s workshop, her mind still in turmoil after their argument. She sighed, frustration and longing weighing on her heart. Though she loved her father, his emotional distance since her mother’s death had left her feeling alone in the world.

As she approached their small cabin on the edge of town, Lisa noticed a figure standing outside. Wesley Dormer leaned against the split-rail fence, a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. His eyes followed her hungrily, a determined set to his jaw.

Lisa hesitated, her steps faltering. She did not want another confrontation with Wesley. His aggressive pursuit over the past months had become relentless, impervious to her gentle rejections. She steeled herself and continued walking, back straight and chin held high.

Wesley pushed off from the fence as she drew nearer, an eager smile spreading across his face. “Good evening, Miss Lisa,” he called. “You’re looking as lovely as ever today.”

Lisa averted her eyes, focusing on the cabin door just a few yards away. “Good evening, Mr. Dormer,” she replied briskly, quickening her pace. She could feel his eyes crawling over her, like spiders across her skin.

“Please, call me Wesley,” he said with an easy laugh, moving to block her path. He thrust the bouquet forward. “These are for you. I picked them just this morning. I thought we might take a walk together.”

Lisa stopped short, hesitating. She did not wish to take the flowers, but turning him down outright could provoke his temper. But she didn’t want to encourage him. “Thank you,” she said finally, her voice cool, “but it really wasn’t necessary. I have chores to do before my father returns, I really should get started on them.” She looked down, without reaching for the bouquet.

Wesley suddenly grabbed her hand and paused for a moment, waiting for her to meet his gaze. There was a quick flash of anger in his eyes, before his expression shifted into his usual, relaxed confidence. “Alright,” he said, his voice low, “a daughter should always do her duties. I’ll call again another day. I know you’ll warm up to me eventually,” he said with a smirk “you’ll see soon enough.”

Lisa met his stare unflinchingly, despite a worried feeling rising in her chest. “Good afternoon, Mr. Dormer,” she repeated rather coldly. She turned and walked swiftly to the cabin, leaving him standing in the road, the flowers dangling forgotten in his hand. Her heart pounded as she slipped inside and bolted the door, Wesley’s hungry eyes burning in her memory.

Lisa leaned back against the door, letting out a shaky breath. Her skin still crawled where Wesley had grasped her hand. Why couldn’t he take no for an answer? She had made it abundantly clear she had no interest in his advances, yet he persisted. There was something very strange about that man. But he was always perfectly charming around her father, much to her frustration.

Outside, she could hear Wesley’s footsteps retreating down the road. She peered cautiously through the window to be sure he was actually leaving. To her relief, his tall figure was moving away, the rejected bouquet swinging from his hand.

Lisa turned away from the window, rubbing her left hand unconsciously. The weakness in her hand had always made her self-conscious. She could still remember the other children whispering behind their hands, making her realize how different she was. If only she’d had her mother’s comfort to help her adjust to her new reality…

Lisa shook off her thoughts quickly, not wanting to let her emotions get the best of her. Thinking of the wagon accident that took her mother away forever, while sparing her with only an injury to her hand, always filled her with an overwhelming sense of grief and guilt. She could only imagine how her father felt. He’d refused to ever speak about it since that horrible day.

Wesley claimed he saw who she truly was, but Lisa knew better. He saw her as a conquest, something to possess. The thought made bile rise in her throat. She wanted a man who loved her for her spirit and mind, not just her youthful face.

With a weary sigh, Lisa moved deeper into the cabin. It was still early, but she ought to start preparing supper soon enough. Her father would return home in the evening hungry and irritable after a long day at the smithy.

As she chopped vegetables, Lisa pondered again how to make her father understand she was a grown woman now, not a child. She longed for more freedom, for choices. If only Wesley would stop his obsessive pursuit, perhaps her father would finally realize she could handle herself.

Lisa shook her head ruefully. Wesley was like a stubborn mule – once he got an idea in his head, nothing could dissuade him. She would just have to be even more direct and firm, no matter how much it bruised his ego.

Lisa sighed in frustration, her mind racing. After her father’s harsh words and Wesley’s unwanted advances, what she really needed was a friendly ear to speak to.


The sunlight filtered through the dusty windows of the workshop, casting shadows across Chris’s face as he concentrated on shaping a horseshoe over the forge. The rhythmic clanging of his hammer against the glowing metal echoed through the small space.

A familiar voice called out from the entrance. “Afternoon, Chris.”

Chris glanced up to see his longtime neighbor and friend, Jack, leaning against the doorway, hat in hand.

“Jack,” Chris greeted with a nod, setting his tools aside. He could tell by the furrow in Jack’s brow that this was not merely a social visit.

Jack stepped inside, turning his hat in his hands. “Sorry to bother you while you’re working, but I wanted to have a word about something I overheard earlier.”

Chris tensed, his full attention now fixed on his friend.

“It was Wesley Dormer, down at the saloon, going on about your Lisa. Talking real inappropriate about getting closer to her…intimately.” Jack’s face twisted in distaste.

Chris’s grip on the hammer tightened until his knuckles whitened.

“He was bragging about already stealing a kiss from her while they were out together a couple of nights ago.” Jack shook his head, his expression grim. “Sounded confident she’d be his wife before long. You know I mind my business, Chris, but I thought you’d want to know. Didn’t sound right the way he was talking about her.”

Rage boiled up in Chris, his protective instincts flaring. How dare that scoundrel talk about his daughter that way! He had known Wesley had been chasing after Lisa for a long time, but this…this was beyond the pale.

Unless… Could there be some truth to this? Lisa and Wesley, talking about getting married?

Chris flung the hammer down onto the workbench with a deafening clang. His boots hammered heavily across the floorboards as he stormed outside, fury propelling each step. He had to get home and confront Lisa about this immediately.

Chris strode purposefully down the busy road, his mind racing. He’d been pushing Lisa to get married, it was for the best for both of them. Lisa looked so much like her mother now that she was grown. It hurt to be reminded every day of the accident and all he’d lost that day. No, it was best she find a good man and get married. Start her own life.

But Wesley? He’d thought Lisa didn’t like him one bit. Though he couldn’t figure out why she was so opposed to him. Could Lisa really have let Wesley get so close? She was smarter than that. If she had let him take liberties, she’d have no choice but to marry Wesley.

As he neared the small cottage he shared with Lisa, Chris tried to rein in his tempestuous emotions. He needed to handle this calmly, for Lisa’s sake. She had been through so much hardship already after losing her mother. The last thing either of them needed was for him to let his anger get the best of him, like it usually did.

Chapter Four

Derek stood amidst the rubble, the pungent smell of hay and manure thick in the air. Shafts of dusty light filtered through the collapsed roof of the barn, illuminating the trapped horse’s terrified eyes.

“Easy girl,” Derek murmured, lifting a heavy wooden beam off the poor creature’s hindquarters. George worked beside him, face taut with concentration as they shifted planks and timbers. Piece by piece, they cleared a path to freedom.

With a final heave, they removed the last barrier. The horse scrambled to her feet, sides heaving, and Derek stroked her neck gently. “There now, you’re alright.” Relief washed over him. The mare nuzzled his shoulder, safe thanks to their efforts.

George clapped Derek on the back. “Good thing we got her out in time. You’ve got a way with the animals – she knows you saved her.”

Derek nodded, overcome with gratitude. The horse was more than just an animal to him. She was a living legacy, like the ranch itself – something to protect and nurture in this unforgiving land.

As he led the mare from the ruins, Derek vowed to rebuild. The barn, the ranch, his life. He’d repaired this barn once before, after everything… He would do it again. His parents’ dreams still lived within these fences. He would see them fulfilled, no matter what it took.

George fell into step beside Derek as they emerged into the sunlight. “Congratulations are in order, I hear,” he said. “A new little niece or nephew on the way.”

Derek tensed, the news still raw. “So it seems,” he muttered, not meeting George’s eye. Together, they worked to unload the supplies from George’s wagon.

“Your brother must be thrilled. Starting a family and all.” George watched Derek closely. “Have you spoken to him since…?”

“No.” The word came out harsher than Derek intended.

An awkward silence descended. Though unspoken, the bitter feud between the Bryson brothers was common knowledge in town. Some claimed Derek resented his older brother’s success. Others whispered that Tom’s negligence caused the fire that killed their parents. Derek always avoided validating any of the townspeople’s speculations, despite carrying the awful truth in his heart.

Derek’s jaw tightened, old anger rising. He could still see the flames devouring the old barn, his desperate attempts to save his mother and father. Tom’s anguished face through the smoke…

Derek shut down the memory. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, least of all his brother. The rift between them ran soul-deep – too wide and wild to ever cross again.

“It’s a shame,” George said gently. “Family is family.”

Derek turned away, throat tight. The ranch, the land, his purpose – that was all the family he needed now.

“Have you given any thought to getting married yourself?,” George asked, mildly. “This place could surely do with a woman’s touch.”

Derek ignored the question, focusing on unloading the last of the lumber from the wagon. “Thank you for the supplies and the help, George. It was kind of you to bring all this over.”

Derek nodded his head at George and walked back to the house, boots scuffing up dust. He paused at the porch, gazing up at the weathered boards and peeling paint. This place held so many memories, happy and sorrowful. If only the walls could speak.

Stepping inside, he removed his hat respectfully. The air felt heavy with his parents’ absence. Derek glanced at their framed photo on the mantel, his heart aching.

“I miss you both so much,” he whispered.

Miles padded over, nuzzling his hand. Derek managed a faint smile, ruffling the dog’s ears. “At least I’ve got you, boy.”

Wandering into the study, Derek hesitated before his father’s desk. After some internal debate, he slid open the bottom drawer and retrieved his mother’s journal. The leather cover creaked as he opened it, the faded pages filled with her sloping cursive.

Derek sank into his father’s armchair and began to read the dreams and hopes she’d poured onto these pages so long ago. Her words washed over him, transporting him back to simpler times, and tears started to fill his eyes. It had always been so painful for him to read these pages, he could never read more than a few.

Derek turned the page with a trembling hand. His mother’s words leapt off the page:

My greatest wish is for our boys to carry on the legacy of our family ranch, to continue our hard work and prosper. It would bring me such joy to see them working the land together, brothers united by blood and purpose.

Derek swallowed hard. While he had stagnated here these past years, consumed by grief and anger, Tom had moved forward. He had started his own successful ranch, married, and was now apparently expecting a child.

Tom was out there living his life, while Derek wallowed in the past. All while the family ranch crumbled around him. A wave of shame washed over him. How disappointed his parents would be to see their sons divided. And Derek alone, on a ranch that was falling apart.

Setting down the journal, Derek rose with new resolve. No more wallowing in self-pity. It was time to make some changes around here.

“Come on, boy,” he said to Miles. The dog perked up his ears.

Derek strode out the front door toward the barn. There was work to be done – the ranch needed him.

He paused just outside the front door, looking down at Miles. The dog stared up at him with eager eyes, sensing his master’s shift in mood.

“A Scarred Rancher’s Burnt Past” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Lisa Montgomery’s scars on her hand are nothing compared to the wounds on her heart, inflicted by a vile man determined to claim her. Desperate for escape, Lisa answers a mail-order bride ad, seeking solace in the letters of Derek Bryson, a man whose words reveal a kindness she desperately needs…

Can she open her heart to a man she’s never met?

Derek Bryson, scarred by the flames that took his parents and disfigured his face, lives a life of solitude although his soul longs for companionship. When Lisa arrives, his hope crumbles as he sees the shock in her eyes. Yet, as he spends time with her, a tender bond begins to bloom against all odds…

Could he dare to hope for love?

When a shadow from Lisa’s past returns to haunt her, Derek steps up to protect her, determined to shield her from any danger. As her obsessive suitor, closes in on her, will their burgeoning love withstand survive, or will the maniacal threat tear them apart forever?

“A Scarred Rancher’s Burnt Past” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!


Grab my new series, "Western Brides and True Loves", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

One thought on “A Scarred Rancher’s Burnt Past (Preview)”

  1. Hello my dears, I hope you were intrigued by the preview of this inspiring love story and you cannot wait to read the rest! Let me know your thoughts here. Thank you kindly! Happy reading! ✨

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *