Sunday, May 3, 2015

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"The woman. I want the woman." The Outlaw Book 3 Montana Men Series Vanessa Vale

Happy Sunday! I'm thrilled to have Ms. Vanessa Vale over on my blog. Her cover is smoking hot, and so is the excerpt.

The Outlaw is the third book in my Montana Men series. If you know me at all, you know I like a hot cowboy. Why stop at one? In this series, each one is a super HOT man from Montana who knows what he wants and is definitely not afraid to claim--and possess--his new wife.
A little inside secret question for the fans of this blog-- Who really is the outlaw?
Love, Vanessa

Book 3- Montana Men Series
© 2015 Vanessa Vale & Blushing Books


The little snooze I took between August Point and Lewistown had been an act. Everything for me was an act. So much so that I was afraid I was losing myself. Perhaps I'd already done so, accepting a marriage of convenience as I had. The journey from Minneapolis to the Montana Territory had been interminable, rocking to and fro on a train, then cramped in a stage with two other women who were as nervous, as wary about their fates, as I. Eleanor and Emily, who were also mail order brides, had met their husbands at the appropriate stops, leaving me alone with my thoughts as I journeyed to my final destination. Apex. At long last.
I'd never had close friends; my miserable family life had not condoned, nor made those types of alliances, amenable. A friend from school would stop by to visit, yet only stay as long as my father was not present. Once he did make his presence known, she would scurry away to her own safe home like a mouse at the lighting of a lantern. One look at the gleam in his eye, the harsh tone of his voice and they knew his true nature. Evil. And so I grew up mostly alone. No confidants, no bosom buddy to laugh and share nonsensical items such as hair ribbons. Because of the man's perfidy, I had accustomed myself to a miserable, solitary lifestyle, making the journey west with two others quite an adjustment.
Not that either Eleanor or Emily were unkind. The opposite, in fact. They were women with whom I felt a kindred spirit. Vivacious, lively, light of heart. We were, though, only short-term friends as we were married to men in three different towns, mere dots on the vast landscape of the Montana Territory. I held no hopes of seeing them again, even though we'd vowed to keep in touch, and once alone in the stage I felt the comfort and familiarity of solitude. Solitude was safe. Even now, hundreds of miles from Minneapolis, even knowing my father could not come back from the dead to hurt me further, I feared. I never stopped being wary. Afraid.
The stage was stifling, the air thick with dust, the heat heavy like a winter blanket. I folded back a leather flap, allowing the cool breeze to enter, although the only exposed skin on my body to enjoy it were my face and my hands. Even the pale blue dress's collar was confining. I longed to undo the tiny buttons at my throat, but this would be unseemly. Appearances were all that mattered. I couldn't let anyone guess as to the real me. The real Caroline. If they discovered where I came from, what I'd done, well...I couldn't consider it.
No one had to know that my mild, pleasant demeanor was all a facade. A facade so well constructed that at times I forgot I wasn't the meek, mild waif I appeared. I couldn't change that I was a waif. Petite, thin, I could be taken for a boy, although my bosom could not be disguised. Emily always commented on how perfect I always looked, my hair neatly styled, my clothes crisp and fresh. Little did she know it was out of habit--a habit that had saved me from a beating often enough--that I remained so...perfect.
The stage hit a rut in the supposed path and it rocked me into the side of the stage, bumping my shoulder into the wooden wall. Bruises would cover me from bottom to back before my journey was complete. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, counted to ten. I could do this. I would survive. I would get by, without Eleanor or Emily, with a husband that was a complete stranger. In a land so foreign from the likes of Minneapolis it could have been France or Timbuktu.
Quick glimpses of the other ladies' husbands when the stage had stopped had me hopeful that mine would be as appealing. Eleanor's was August Point's sheriff, standing tall and his bearing dominant like his profession. Emily's man was strong and solid, with a brooding demeanor, yet seemed quite pleased at the sight of her.
Horace Meecham. My husband. Would Horace be as appealing to every feminine sense as the other men Mrs. Bidwell had chosen? The mail order madame who'd arranged and facilitated the marriages could be a lifesaver, or a prison warden, sending me to a lifetime sentence of...I wouldn't think about that.
Glancing out the opening, vast green prairie was all I could see. The grass waved with the breeze, looking like a soft carpet, especially with the warm sun shining upon it. The expanse was inviting to my confined spirit. I longed to roam free, with nothing or no one binding me to their dictates. I'd spent all of my nineteen years beneath the cruel thumb of my father, then quickly thrust into three weeks traveling with two companions. I'd soon be shackled to a man for the rest of my life. Would there be any time when I was truly free?
A loud crack startled me from my thoughts and it was a moment before I realized what had made the sound. A gun had been fired! The stage lurched sharply to the left and I teetered on the edge of the seat. Had the driver been shot? As the stage slowed, I jolted forward, falling onto the floor, my knees smarting at the hard contact. The driver--thankfully not dead--yelled at the horses to slow. Bracing my hands on the bench seat in front of me, careful not to bump my head as the stage staggered and shuddered to a stop. Even with the animals halted in their tracks, their snorts and harsh breathing loud, my heart raced on. Bewildered, I glanced out the window, but from my position on the floor, I could only see the blue, cloudless sky.
"What the hell are you shooting at me for, Masters?" Mr. McCallister, the stage driver, yelled, all riled and angry, although that seemed the way of him all the time. The men must be acquaintances if he knew his name which offered me a brief moment of comfort. Then I realized he wouldn't have shot at the stage if not for a valid reason. McCallister knew an outlaw by name?
"I want what's in the stage." The man's voice was deep, clear. And nearby.
I was in the stage. Quickly, I dropped down to ensure my entire person was beneath the edge of the window, my pale hair a beacon in the sunshine. Darting a glance around the small area, I searched for a place to hide. It was a silly venture; the space was spartan and offered nowhere to go. Except out.
"There's nothing of value. No bank box. Nothing." Silence. Then, "Why in tarnation are you taking to robbing the stage? Have you lost your mind? Your spread not keeping you busy enough? Isn't it best to keep your identity a secret, or are you planning on shooting me dead?"
I gulped down the panic that lodged in my throat. Would he shoot us?
"McCallister, quit your yapping," the man replied. "The woman. I want the woman."
My eyes widened in surprise. Oh God. He wanted me. The outlaw wanted me. I'd heard stories of stages being robbed with often deadly results. But those had just been stories. This was real life.
#1 Amazon Bestseller in Erotic Western & Erotic Historical!

Vanessa Vale writes escapist fantasy (aka erotic romance) in the form of historical westerns for Blushing Books. Everyone loves a cowboy--at least she does! A cowboy who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. Oh yeah.

She lives in the West where she has lots of subject matter to drool over...
Montana Maidens Series-
Book 1- Claiming Catherine
Book 2- Taming Tessa
Book 3- Dominating Devney
Book 4- Submitting Sarah

      Montana Men Series-
Book 1- The Lawman
Book 2- The Cowboy- OUT NOW!
Book 3- The Outlaw- Coming end of April 26
To learn more about Vanessa Vale:
Web site-
Follow her on Twitter: @iamvanessavale
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Thanks for stopping by!



  1. Loved this story. Especially when you learn of the low-life piece of scumbag that was supposed to be her husband, and his equally POS son that was going to claim her after dear of dad was dead.


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