Renegade & His Rebel
(2009)(The fourth book in the Three Kinds of Wicked series)
A novel by Titania Ladley
Where in time is Trey?
This month, Trey, the time-striding demigod, finds himself in the American wild west. Gunfights, destroyed saloons, and outlaw justice are tame in comparison to Cassie "Rebel" Thatcher. She shoots like a man. She cusses like a man. She runs a ranch like a man. But when it comes to loving, she's all woman -- or she will be, once Trey teaches her the value of self-acceptance.
When her deserting cad of a husband Renegade LaMarr reappears in Moose Junction, Rebel's as mad as a peeled rattler and prepared to shoot the handsome coward right out of his boots.
Armed with a secret and determined to get rid of Trey, Renegade plots to finally claim Rebel, chaps, boy breeches and all. Only problem is, before he can draw his six-shooter and declare a challenge, Renegade finds himself falling under Trey's magical spell right along with his passionate, spitfire wife.
TO MY READER:
I've always loved a Calamity Jane heroine and the flabbergasted handsome hero set on taming her. Get ready for a shoot' romantic, very sexy western adventure with cowboy Renegade LaMarr and his spunky Rebel, aka Cassie Thatcher!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Though she also writes in many other genres, Titania Ladley (aka Roxana Blaze) has always had a soft place in her heart for naughty historical romances.
EXCERPT:
"No one's going to shoot anyone, goddamn it," Renegade muttered under his breath, taking three more steps toward her.
She swung the weapon back around, aiming it at his black heart. "Get back, you slimy lizard."
His boots skidded across the sawdust floor, abruptly halting his momentum. He held his hands up. "Whoa. Take it easy, Rebel."
"Take it easy my ass," she hissed. "I've been mad as a peeled rattler for going on six months now, so you just best watch yourself. You don't get back, as God is my witness, LaMarr, I'll shoot you. I swear I will."
"Jesus Christ, do you have to call me LaMarr?" Renegade shoved a hand through his hair in that allmale way that used to make her feel all fluttery inside. Repeat, used to. His next words came out none too tender. And it riled her all the more. "You know it's Renegade, goddamn it."
Yeah, she knew Renegade all right. The coward's name had been a toxin contaminating her brain for months, and a name she demanded, guns at the ready, that no one was allowed to utter in Moose Junction. Still, he didn't have to know that, or that if her heart beat any faster at the knowledge he was back, she'd faint dead away. But doggone it, if her hands got any shakier and her teeth grinded together any harder, she just might kill the bastard after all.
Stand your ground, Rebel. Don't let him get to you. Don't fall for that sappy tone he always resorted to when he wanted something out of you. "Well, 'stead of Renegade, I prefer to call you a pisspot, son of a"""
"Cassie, put the gun down, sweetheart." Trey's deep, soothing voice filled her ears, his footsteps approaching from behind. He circled his strong arms around her and guided the rifle upward so the barrel aimed at the ceiling. He'd only been in town and in her bed for a few weeks, but he had an uncanny calming effect on her, like some sort of angel. She exhaled, letting the rage seep out of her limbs. Relaxing against the wall of Trey's chest, she thought how she liked that he called her by her given name, something no one in this hellhole ever did. It made her feel wanted, and though she didn't care to admit it, it also made her feel womanly for once, which had been a curious revelation.
But one she'd never admit to a soul.
This month, Trey, the time-striding demigod, finds himself in the American wild west. Gunfights, destroyed saloons, and outlaw justice are tame in comparison to Cassie "Rebel" Thatcher. She shoots like a man. She cusses like a man. She runs a ranch like a man. But when it comes to loving, she's all woman -- or she will be, once Trey teaches her the value of self-acceptance.
When her deserting cad of a husband Renegade LaMarr reappears in Moose Junction, Rebel's as mad as a peeled rattler and prepared to shoot the handsome coward right out of his boots.
Armed with a secret and determined to get rid of Trey, Renegade plots to finally claim Rebel, chaps, boy breeches and all. Only problem is, before he can draw his six-shooter and declare a challenge, Renegade finds himself falling under Trey's magical spell right along with his passionate, spitfire wife.
TO MY READER:
I've always loved a Calamity Jane heroine and the flabbergasted handsome hero set on taming her. Get ready for a shoot' romantic, very sexy western adventure with cowboy Renegade LaMarr and his spunky Rebel, aka Cassie Thatcher!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Though she also writes in many other genres, Titania Ladley (aka Roxana Blaze) has always had a soft place in her heart for naughty historical romances.
EXCERPT:
"No one's going to shoot anyone, goddamn it," Renegade muttered under his breath, taking three more steps toward her.
She swung the weapon back around, aiming it at his black heart. "Get back, you slimy lizard."
His boots skidded across the sawdust floor, abruptly halting his momentum. He held his hands up. "Whoa. Take it easy, Rebel."
"Take it easy my ass," she hissed. "I've been mad as a peeled rattler for going on six months now, so you just best watch yourself. You don't get back, as God is my witness, LaMarr, I'll shoot you. I swear I will."
"Jesus Christ, do you have to call me LaMarr?" Renegade shoved a hand through his hair in that allmale way that used to make her feel all fluttery inside. Repeat, used to. His next words came out none too tender. And it riled her all the more. "You know it's Renegade, goddamn it."
Yeah, she knew Renegade all right. The coward's name had been a toxin contaminating her brain for months, and a name she demanded, guns at the ready, that no one was allowed to utter in Moose Junction. Still, he didn't have to know that, or that if her heart beat any faster at the knowledge he was back, she'd faint dead away. But doggone it, if her hands got any shakier and her teeth grinded together any harder, she just might kill the bastard after all.
Stand your ground, Rebel. Don't let him get to you. Don't fall for that sappy tone he always resorted to when he wanted something out of you. "Well, 'stead of Renegade, I prefer to call you a pisspot, son of a"""
"Cassie, put the gun down, sweetheart." Trey's deep, soothing voice filled her ears, his footsteps approaching from behind. He circled his strong arms around her and guided the rifle upward so the barrel aimed at the ceiling. He'd only been in town and in her bed for a few weeks, but he had an uncanny calming effect on her, like some sort of angel. She exhaled, letting the rage seep out of her limbs. Relaxing against the wall of Trey's chest, she thought how she liked that he called her by her given name, something no one in this hellhole ever did. It made her feel wanted, and though she didn't care to admit it, it also made her feel womanly for once, which had been a curious revelation.
But one she'd never admit to a soul.
Visitors also looked at these books