WIN A BOOK and FALL IN LOVE with Gingham Mountain

OK, you romance lovers, this is the ninth and final giveaway of the month. And it's a fabulous one! Be one of the first to receive a copy of Mary Connealy's brand new novel, Gingham Mountain, a finalist in the International Readers Choice Contest (Long Historical Fiction Category). I haven't read this yet but it's definitely at the top of my "to-be-read" list.

Simply leave a comment on this blog post for your chance to WIN!

Sophie Edwards’ life is one long struggle for survival, and, more importantly, the survival of her four daughters. She wants to avenge her husband’s murder, but she has no idea how to do it. And as if she hasn't got enough to do, now a wounded man is disrupting her family’s lonely life.

Clay McClellen left an idyllic, all-male world in the mountains. But, after plunging headfirst over a cliff, Clay finds himself at the mercy of a widow and her four girls.

A suspenseful romantic comedy about a mountain man trapped in a pretty, sweet smelling, confusing all-girl world.

Excerpt from Gingham Mountain:

“Did I hear you correctly?” A sharp voice asked from over Grant’s shoulder. “Are you allowing this man to adopt these children?”

Startled, Grant stood, turned and bumped against a soft, cranky woman. He almost knocked her onto her backside—the lady who’d been waiting at the depot. He grabbed her or she’d have fallen on the slippery wood. Grant steadied her, warm and alive in his hands.

“Excuse me.” He said it, even though it was all her fault he bumped into her. She’d obviously been eavesdropping. He’d thought she was pretty before, now she just looked snippy.

The woman looked past Grant like he was dirt under her feet, and said to Martha. “You can’t put these children into a home without a mother.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. . .Miss. . .” Martha came to stand like a bulwark beside Grant.

He appreciated her siding with him, especially when common sense would tell anyone that, in the normal course of things, this busy body was right.

“I’m Hannah. . .uh. . .Cartwright. Surely there are laws against a man simply sweeping up children to take them home for laborers. If there aren’t, there should be.”

“Laborers?” Grant went from annoyed to furious in one fell swoop.

He had the sudden desire to wipe the superior expression off Hannah Cartwright’s face. “This isn’t any business of yours.”

“Now, Miss Cartwright, that’s not—” The train whistle blasted again drowning out Martha’s words, even though her lips kept moving.

“It’s very much my business if children are being exploited.”

“Exploited?” Grant erupted, then he caught hold of his temper. He didn’t calm down for the prissy female. He did it for the children. They didn’t need to start out their life watching their new pa throw a pitched fit at a young woman, no matter how bad-mannered and misinformed that woman might be.

With exaggerated politeness, he said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so I’ll forgive your rudeness.”

He turned to Libby and Charlie. “Let’s go. We need to get back to the ranch in time for the noon meal.”

The lady frowned at Martha, her blue eyes shining in the swirling snow, her dirty face going pink under the grime. “Can I at least talk to the children before you decide? I want to make sure they really want to go with him. They might be so tired from the train that they’re desperate. And they might still find families elsewhere if we—”

“Miss Cartwright, please,” Martha cut her off. “This is the last town we have appointments in. No, if they don’t find a home at this top, Charlie and Libby will have to ride all the way back to New York. The children will be better off with Grant.”

Grant and Martha exchanged a look. He reached for the children’s hands and felt a small but firm grip on his arm. Exasperated he wheeled around and faced Miss Cartwright.

“I’m not allowing you to leave with these children. I know how this works. You take them out to your ranch, virtually stack them in inadequate space, and press them into being little more than slaves. I’m not going to allow—”

Libby made a little sound that sounded like pure fear. She started crying, dry sobs escaping her otherwise silent lips. She hurled herself into Charlie’s arms and Charlie staggered backward a step, but held on and looked angry, his eyes darting between Grant and Miss Cartwright.

Grant gave Miss Cartwright a furious look, which she returned in full measure, shooting flaming arrows from her blue eyes that liked to stab him to death on the spot. The whistle blasted and the train began inching out of the station.

Mary Connealy is the author of Petticoat Ranch, Calico Canyon and Gingham Mountain. She will be releasing historical romantic comedies for Barbour for the next three years. Find out more about Mary’s Books at http://www.maryconnealy.com/ and check out her blogs: http://mconnealy.blogspot.com/; http://petticoatsandpistols.com/; and http://seekerville.blogspot.com/

Mary is married to her high school sweetheart, Ivan, a Nebraska farmer/rancher. She is the mother of four beautiful daughters Josie, married to Matt, Wendy, Shelly, married to Aaron and Katy. She’s got one beautiful, brand-new granddaughter, Elle.

Don't forget to leave a comment on this blog post to be automatically entered to WIN a copy of Gingham Mountain! Because this is the last giveaway, I'm extending the deadline to enter to March 3.

Be sure to enter ALL the giveaways this month. Winners will be announced on March 6th.

GOOD LUCK!