The
Shepherd’s Daughter (Dry Bayou Brides #1)
By: Lynn
Winchester
Genre: Sweet Western Romance
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing
Date of Publication: September 27th, 2016
ASIN: B01LVYT90X
Number of pages: 97
Word Count: approx. 26k
Cover Artist: Dar Albert
"Welcome to Dry Bayou, Texas, where
Southern Charm meets the Wild West..."
From author Jackson d'Lynne writing as
Lynn Winchester, a sweet and romantic western sure to warm your heart!
Ray MacAdams and Billy Ducharme have been
best friends since her family moved to his ranch fourteen years ago to start a
new sheep ranching operation.
Through thick and thin, good and bad,
fire and rain, their friendship has only gotten stronger—so strong that nothing
could possibly break their bond, a bond that for Ray has suddenly changed from
simply friends to something deeper… Something that makes her dream of days and
nights beside the man she loves, something that makes her wish she were more
than just the shepherd’s daughter.
Then Billy’s mail order bride arrives.
Rebecca DuCastille is everything Ray is
not: refined, well-mannered, and pretty as a porcelain tea cup. How can Ray
possibly compete for Billy’s heart when his new bride is everything he could
want in a proper wife?
Can the shepherd’s daughter convince her
childhood friend that their love for one another goes beyond friendship, or
will Billy marry the pretty interloper and leave Ray out to pasture?
Publisher Note: This is a 'sweet'/'clean'
romance.
So this was the new head
shepherd his pa had hired? Billy didn’t know much about it other than what he’d
overheard between his parents at night while he was supposed to be reading The
Word before bed. He couldn’t help it. He liked sneaking down the stairs to
listen to his parents talk when they thought no one was listening. Something
about the love between them made Billy want to stick close.
From what he’d heard and
could understand of their conversations, his pa wanted to expand the ranch into
sheep and wool but didn’t know how to do it. He’d sent advertisements back east
to the big cities, looking for a man who knew the industry and could come live
on their ranch to manage the lambing and shearing and rotating—moving the herd
from one parcel of land to another without losing a single one.
Apparently, these
newcomers were the ones his pa had picked for the job. Billy didn’t know, quite
yet, what he thought of the whole thing.
Not that it really
mattered. Billy was set on growing up to be the best horse breeder in the
state. He didn’t care much for smelly old sheep. He’d stick to the stable and
barn, and leave Mr. MacAdams and Mr. Pallo to their sheep.
Billy’s pa turned to him
and motioned for him to come forward. Billy complied with only a little warmth
rising in his cheeks.
“Mr. MacAdams, this is
my son, Willem.”
Pa patted Billy on his
shoulders and squeezed one just enough to make him clear his throat and say,
“Good afternoon, sir. Nice to meet you.” Just as his mother had taught him.
Mr. MacAdams grinned
down at him. “What a polite young man ye are. Nice to me ye.”
Billy’s mother stepped
forward. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Dry Bayou Ranch. I’m Linda Ducharme and
we’re very pleased to have you here.”
His mother’s voice was
soft, friendly, and cultured. She was a fine lady, much too fine for all the
dust now coating her skirts. Pa said he’d found her in a catalog and she’d
moved west to marry him. He said he was a lucky man, especially since she
hadn’t turned tail and run at the first sight of the shack he’d lived in back
then.
Mr. MacAdams turned
around and helped the woman from the wagon. She strutted toward the porch, put
out her hand, and smiled. Pa took it and shook it, a little less vigorously
than he did the man’s.
“I’m Moira MacAdams—,”
she called into the back of the wagon. “Get down here, bairn, and say hello.”
Billy didn’t know what
to make of the bundle of rags and wild, frizzy, red hair that appeared. He
stood, staring at the little girl who seemed more hair than girl. She looked a
few years younger than his seven years, but he thought maybe her size threw him
off. Her small face was covered with freckles, her brown eyes were filled with
curiosity and something else he couldn’t name.
She bounced from
foot-to-foot, then stuck out her hand. He blinked down at it, surprised and a
little uncertain what to do.
“Go ‘head, take it, it
won’t bite,” she chirped. Her voice was like sugar on syrup and he found he
didn’t know what to say back. So, he stepped forward and gripped her hand
without saying a word.
“Name’s Raychelle, but
you can call me Ray, account of the fact that I don’t like Raychelle ‘cause it
sounds too uppity.”
Billy couldn’t help the
smile that spread across his face.
He liked her.
He tightened his grip on
her hand. “He-hello, Ray, I’m Billy.”
Her smile brightened and
he felt the light of it right down into his boots. In that moment, he wondered
if smelly old sheep weren’t all that bad.
She must’ve read his
thoughts because a glint of excitement filled her eyes and Billy could only
blink in awe.
“Billy, do you know how
to catch a frog?”
Excerpt #2
“Billy Ducharme, you get
your good-fer-nothin’ hide down here this instant!” Ray stopped pacing long
enough to yell up at the hay loft from outside the large, red barn. “You got to
be done with your chores by now, it’s near midday!”
She and Billy were
supposed to head down to Clipper’s Creek for the fishing derby and she hated to
be late. She didn’t want to miss out on the prize for the biggest trout. She’d
won it three years running and she’d be pickled if she lost this year.
Where is that man? She
stood on her tiptoes and rocked back onto her heels, all while balancing her
armload of fishing gear.
She’d been looking
forward to this day for near six months. She even made sure she woke up a few
hours before her usual time in order to get a head start on her daily chores;
tending the two ewes who were lambing, mending the fence that was struck by lightning
two nights ago, and checking with the gauchos to recount the heads to make sure
none of the sheep were missing.
Thankfully, all were
accounted for, which meant she didn’t have to go hunting for a wayward ewe—that
could’ve taken all day. She didn’t have all day, not if she wanted to get to
the derby.
Now, to get Billy moving
so they could get going.
The whinny of a horse
caught her attention and she stopped moving and stared at the tall, wide
doorway that led to the interior of the barn. A bead of sweat slid down her
forehead, over the bridge of her nose, and dripped off the end.
“Come on, you’re movin’
slower than molasses and Lord knows I can’t stand the stuff!” She juggled the
tackle and poles in her arms and heaved a heavy sigh.
Her sigh of frustration
turned to a sigh of appreciation when Billy came into view from around the barn
door. He’d pulled his hat from his head and was brushing the straw from it. Ray
had to stop herself from staring like a ninny at his rich, chestnut hair, dark
brows, and smooth, tanned face.
He was tall, lean,
walked like a man who knew his business, and had a face she wouldn’t throw a
dead frog at…unless he was cracking a joke about her.
Ray didn’t know when,
exactly, her thoughts about Billy Ducharme turned from sweet and annoying
little sister-like to mushy and silly and... Well, not sweet nor sisterly. But
she wasn’t going to let her sudden mental ailment mess up her chance to win the
derby.
“There you are. Shake a
leg so we can get to the creek before they call the last round.”
Her urgent tone didn’t
get him to move any faster. He actually slowed down, slapped his hat back on
his head, and gave her a big, too-handsome smile.
She hated it when he
smiled like that. She fought to ignore the melting sensation in the pit of her
stomach and growled at him. “Don’t you dare, Willem!” She only ever used his
full Christian name when she was annoyed at him.
He only smiled bigger
and walked slower.
She narrowed her eyes
and bit her lip to keep from yelling at him again—it wouldn’t be proper to yell
the things she wanted to say to Billy at this moment.
By the time he stood
before her, looking down into her overwarm face with a mischievous grin and
glimmering blue eyes, she was fuming—‘bout ready to toss the fishing poles on
the ground and wallop him.
“Whoa there, Ray. You’ve
got to learn patience one of these days or you’re liable to get so worked up
you’ll have a fit.” Ray held her breath. “Now, if you had a fit and fell to the
ground like a startled heifer, I’d have to sell tickets. Lots of folks ‘round
here would pay good money to see that.” He laughed, his deep chuckle breaking
through the cloud in her head.
“Why you—” she reached
out to slap his arm, but dropped her armload of fishing supplies, instead.
“Ugh!” she called out in frustration, staring down at the now scattered and
tangled lines, poles, and bobbers.
Chuckling louder, Billy
stepped closer. Ray stopped moving, thinking, breathing—he was much too close
for comfort.
- $25 Amazon Gift Card
Lynn Winchester is one of the pseudonyms
of a hardworking California-born caffeine addict, now living in the wilds of
Northeast Pennsylvania. Lynn has been writing fiction since the 5th grade, and
enjoys creating worlds, characters, and stories for her readers.
When Lynn isn't writing sweet historical
romances, she is writing spicy paranormal romance as Jackson D’Lynne, and YA
Sci-Fi/Thrillers as DJ Sorber. When is isn’t writing at all, she is running a
successful editing business, reading whatever she can get her hands on, raising
her four children, making sure her husband is happy, and binge watching shows
on Netflix.
Website: http://lynnwinchester.com/
Facebook: https://www.Facebook.com/LynnWinWesterns
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