Welcome to Susanne Bittner. I've not met Susanne before so here's a little to get to know her:
With more than 7 million books in print, RT Book Reviews Career
Achievement Award-winning author Roseanne Bittner is beloved by fans for
her powerful, epic historical romances.
Award-winning novelist Rosanne Bittner is highly acclaimed for her
thrilling love stories and historical authenticity. Her epic romances
span the West — from Canada to Mexico, Missouri to California — and are
often based on Roseanne’s personal visits to each setting. She lives in
Michigan with her husband and two sons.
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Susanne's featuring two books today -
Wildest Dreams...
Genre: Historical Western Romance
Length: 561 pages
Published by: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Release Date: February 7, 2012
Lettie MacBride knew that joining a wagon train heading West was her
chance to begin anew, far from the devastating memories of the night
that had changed her forever. She didn’t believe she could escape the
pain of innocence lost or feel desire for any man…until she meets Luke
Fontaine.
Haunted by his own secrets, Luke could never blame Lettie for what
had happened in the past. One glance at the pretty red-haired lass was
enough to fill the handsome, hard-driving pioneer with a savage hunger.
Against relentless snows, murderous desperadoes, and raiding Sioux,
Luke and Lettie will face a heartrending choice: abandon a lawless land
before it destroys them, or fight for their…Wildest Dreams.
* * * * *
“Power, passion, tragedy, and triumph are Rosanne Bittner’s hallmarks. Again and again, she brings readers to tears.” —
RT Book Reviews
“Excellent, a wonderful, absorbing read, with characters to
capture the heart and the imagination…belongs on that special keep self;
it’s a romance not to be missed.” —
Heather Graham on Outlaw Hearts
Wildest Dreams
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...and Thunder on the Plains
Genre: Historical Western Romance
Length: 528 pages
Published by: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Release Date: July 3, 2012
In a Land of Opportunity
Sunny Landers wanted a big life—as big and free as the untamed land
that stretched before her. Land she would help her father conquer to
achieve his dream of a trancontinental railroad. She wouldn’t liet a
cold, creaky wagon, murderous bandits or stampeding buffalo stand in her
way. She wanted it all—including Colt Travis.
All the Odds Were Against Them
Like the land of his birth, half–Cherokee Colt Travis was wild, hard,
and dangerous. He was a drifter, a wilderness scout with no land and no
prospects hired by the Landers family to guide their wagon train. He
knew Sunny was out of his league and her father would never approve, but
beneath the endless starlit sky, anything seemed possible…
* * * * *
“A hero to set feminine hearts aflutter…western romance readers will thoroughly enjoy this.”—
Library Journal
Thunder on the Plains
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To see Susanne's book trailer click HERE
Susanne's sharing two lovely excerpts from her novels today so get your coffee, or whatever you fancy, ready and settle in comfortably!
Wildest Dreams – Excerpt
Chapter 1
April 1863
Luke tightened the rawhide straps around the belly of one of the
mules that carried his supplies. “Suck in that gut, you stubborn ass,”
he muttered. “I’m not going to hold up this wagon train because you
spill my supplies all over the place.”
The animal brayed loudly, and people turned to stare. “Shut
up, damn it,” he ordered the mule, yanking harder. It embarrassed him to
have everyone witness his struggle with the obstinate animal.
He figured there were plenty of others amid this crowd headed west
who were even less prepared for what lay ahead of them than he was.
Including the children, there were about a hundred people camped here
outside of Independence. He had counted eighteen wagons. He himself had
decided against bothering with a wagon and oxen. His horse and four
pack mules were enough. Some of his fellow travelers were herding cattle
and extra horses as well, some had chickens with them, a few had pigs.
Most of them were headed for California or Oregon, many fleeing the
hideous War between the States and the ugly raiding that had been taking
place between Kansas and Missouri. He had his own reasons for heading
west, but they had nothing to do with the war.
He finished buckling the strap. He hated mules, much preferred
horses. But he had taken the advice of experienced scouts back in St.
Louis that mules were much better suited to carrying heavy loads for
long distances, and it was a long way to Montana. As far as he was
concerned, California and Oregon were already too heavily settled. He
was going to a place where a man could still claim big pieces of land,
where there was still hardly any law. That way a man could do whatever
was necessary to keep his land without answering to anyone but himself.
This wagon train would get him as far as Wyoming. From then on, he would
be on his own. The prospect was exhilarating. He was determined to show
his father and his brother that he didn’t need the inheritance money
that had been denied him. To hell with them both! His father could
believe what he wanted. He knew in his heart he was not a bastard. He
had every right to the Fontaine money, and he swore that someday he
would be a hundred times richer than his father, and he would do it all
on his own.
The crack of a gunshot startled him out of his thoughts. Horses
whinnied, and a woman began railing at her husband for being careless
with a handgun. When Luke looked up, a couple of horses had bolted at
the noise of the gunshot and were running toward him.
Then everything seemed to happen at once. “Nathan!” a young
woman shouted frantically. Luke turned to see a towheaded little boy
running toward him from another direc- tion, a stuffed animal in his
arms, a big grin on his chubby face. The boy obviously thought his
mother was playing a game by chasing him, but his path was taking him on
a collision course with the runaway horses.
Luke ran to the boy, lifting him with one strong arm a split second
before the horses would have trampled him. He ducked aside, landing on
the ground and covering the child. He felt a blow on his right calf from
a horse’s hoof and grimaced with pain, wondering why it had to be that
particular spot. He still suffered enough pain there from his war
wound. He didn’t need a horse’s kick to awaken the agony. He heard the
shouts of “whoa,” felt people gather near him. Someone grabbed the
little boy right out of his arms.
“Nathan! Nathan!”
A couple of men helped Luke to his feet, asked if he was all right.
They held his arms as Luke limped over to a log to sit down.
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, rubbing at his leg. “Just got a
little kick.” He decided not to mention the war wound. In crowds like
this there was usually a good mixture of Northerners and Southerners.
Mentioning he’d fought for the Union army just might start a needless
argument, and for the next four months or so, they all had to forget
their differences and band together for the journey west.
“Sorry, mister,” a man spoke up. “I accidentally spooked my horses.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Luke answered. “I’m okay. All of you can get back to whatever you were doing.”
The man who had misfired his gun apologized again, this time to a
woman standing near Luke. “Thank God your boy wasn’t hurt,” he told
her.
“It was partly my fault,” the woman answered. “Nathan has just found
his legs, and he is always running. He thinks it’s a game. I think I
shall have to put a rope on him and tie it to my own waist.”
“Might be a good idea, ma’am.” The man left to collect his
horses, and Luke looked up at the woman who held the towheaded
youngster he had just rescued. The boy still clung to his stuffed
animal, which Luke could see was a homemade brown horse. Part of a
feather from the stuffing stuck out of one of the seams. The child was
still grinning, oblivious to the danger he’d been in. His mother chided
him for running away from her.
“I don’t know how to thank you, sir,” she told Luke then. “Nathan
could have been killed if not for your quick thinking. I do hope you’re
not badly hurt.”
For the first time Luke truly noticed her and was surprised at how
pretty she was. That thought had barely registered before it was
eclipsed by the pain in his leg and his irritation at how the whole
morning had gone for him.
“I don’t think so,” he answered, “but you ought to keep a better eye
on the boy there. On a trip like we’ll be taking, you’ll have to hold a
tighter rein on him, or you’ll be running into this kind of problem
every day.” Luke watched her stiffen at the words, and the concern
in her pretty eyes gave way to consternation.
“It isn’t easy to watch an active two-year-old every second, Mr.—”
“Fontaine. Luke Fontaine.”
“Hossy.” The little boy held out his stuffed horse to Luke. “That’s
his word for horse,” the woman told Luke. “As you can see, there isn’t a
bashful or fearful bone in Nathan’s body.” Luke could see the deep hurt
and anger in her eyes, figured she was holding her temper in check for
the boy’s sake. He ignored the child’s gesture, at the moment more
interested in how a woman with such deep red hair and luscious green
eyes could have given birth to a blond-headed, blue-eyed child like the
one she was holding, but then that wasn’t his business. Her husband must
be the one with the blond hair. Luke wondered where he was. “You might
try tying a rope around the kid like you mentioned earlier.” He rubbed
at his leg a moment longer, then stood up.
“Well, thank you for the sage advice,” she told him coolly. Luke
studied her full lips, the porcelain look to her skin, her slender
waist. He could not help noticing how nicely she filled out the bodice
of her flowered cotton dress, a dress, he took note, that was suited to
the journey ahead, but still had a more elegant look than what the
other women were wearing. Her hair was nicely done up, in such a pile
of curls that he was sure it must hang to her waist when she let it
down. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I haven’t had the best morning.”
The woman sighed. “No, neither have I.” She struggled to hang on to her son, who was wiggling to get down again.
“Here, let me hold him for a minute,” Luke said. “I’ll walk you back to your own camp.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she started to protest, but the husky
boy was obviously more than she could handle when he had the desire to
climb out of her arms. “Oh dear,” she said, reluctantly handing him
over.
Luke gathered the child into his arms, surprised at how easily he
came to him when he had never met him before. “Well, Nathan, you’ve got
to quit giving your mother such troubles.” “Hossy,” Nathan said again,
touching the horse’s nose to Luke’s. The gesture broke the strain
between Luke and the boy’s mother, and they both smiled.
“I am Lettie MacBride Dougan,” she told Luke then.
Luke nodded, secretly touched when little Nathan put his head
down on his shoulder. Over the last year he had given a lot of thought
to what it might be like to have a son of his own. He’d certainly give
him more love than he had ever known from his own father. “Glad to meet
you, Mrs. Dougan.”
She looked past him then at his mules. “You…you’re traveling alone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, then, I insist, Mr. Fontaine, that you let me and my family
thank you for saving Nathan by joining our campfire tonight for
supper. This first day’s journey is bound to be difficult. The
least we can do is save you the trouble of having to fix your own supper
tonight. That is our lead wagon over there,” she said, pointing to a
wagon with a pole, tied with a red cloth, sticking up above it. “We
marked it that way so that if Nathan runs off, he could spot our lead
wagon easily and find us again. Actually, we have three wagons. My
father is both a farmer and a merchant. He is taking a load of supplies
along to start his own store when we reach Denver.”
“Denver? You aren’t going all the way to California?”
“No. We and some of the others will stay with the train to the fork
of the North and South Platte rivers. Then we’ll follow the South Platte
to Denver. Father feels there is a great deal of potential there for a
businessman, much more than in California and Oregon, which are already
so heavily settled.”
“Could be,” Luke answered. “And how does your husband feel?”
He noticed the woman’s face redden as though for a moment she felt some kind of shame.
“Nathan’s father is dead,” she answered. “Killed in a border raid.”
Luke watched her eyes, and what he saw there was not the look of a
grieving widow. Something was amiss. “I’m sorry,” he told her.
“Yes, well, that’s part of the reason we’re starting someplace new,”
she told him. “Father’s store was burned, as was our home and farm.
We’re from up in the St. Joseph area.”
Nathan reached out for his mother, and Luke handed him over. “I’m from St. Louis, headed for Montana,” he told her.
“Montana! Oh, isn’t it terribly wild and lawless there?”
Luke grinned. “A good place for a man to make his claim and set his own rules.”
“Yes, I suppose.” In spite of her initial irritation with the man for
telling her how to handle her own son, Lettie could not help noticing
how handsome he was.
Never have I seen such beautiful blue eyes on a man before,
she thought. Immediately she felt the crimson coming to her cheeks,
along with another burst of shame. What right did she have to be
attracted to any man, and what man would want her, if he knew the
truth about her? “I had better get back to our wagons. My parents are
in town getting more supplies, and my brother and sister are off
wandering. When everyone is back I will explain what you did, and I know
they will insist on cooking you a decent supper tonight. Please say
you will come.”
To be able to look at you again? Luke thought. “I’ll be glad to join you.”
“Good. Look for us when we make camp tonight, then, Mr. Fontaine.”
Luke nodded, then reached out and gave little Nathan’s chubby hand a squeeze. “See you tonight, then.”
He turned and walked back to his mules, and Lettie noticed he limped
badly. She thought again how handsome he was, but such thoughts only
brought an ache to her heart, for in her situ- ation, it was useless to
allow special feelings for any man. There simply could never be another
man in her life. She did not want one, and no decent man would ever want
her.
She turned away. As she headed back to her own camp she kissed
Nathan’s cheek. Some people thought she should hate her son, but he was
an innocent child, a child she had grown to love far more than she had
thought possible in the beginning. No child should be blamed for a
horror over which he had no control, a horror caused by a bloody,
useless war. Nathan was never going to know the truth about his father,
and leaving Missouri was the only way to make sure of it.
* * * * *
“Fontaine. What kind of a name is that? French?”
Luke lit the thin cigar Henry MacBride had given him. Both men sat
near the campfire, and all around them other campfires were lit and
families settled in for supper and sleep. Lettie and her mother, Katie,
and her fourteen-year-old sister, Louise, cleaned up dishes, pots, and
pans. It was obvious to Luke that the family had money because of
their dress and mannerism, and they had a Negro woman along with them to
help with the work. She was a very large woman, her hair almost
completely gray. She seemed to get along well with the family, hummed
softly while she worked.
Beside Henry sat Lettie’s nineteen-year-old brother, James. “My
father is a descendent of some of the first French trappers who traded
in furs,” Luke answered MacBride. “His father and grandfather roamed the
Rockies and places even farther west before most people ever gave a
thought to settling out there. They became wealthy traders, then
merchants. My father inher- ited all of it, owns a big mercantile
emporium in St. Louis, even some warehouses and several riverboats for
carrying supplies.”
Henry arched his eyebrows, which were as red as his hair. It was
obvious Lettie had inherited features from both parents. It was her
father who had the green eyes that on her were so exotically beautiful,
but she had her mother’s lustrous, darker red hair and milky smooth
skin. James was the image of his father in every way, but Louise was the
opposite of her sister, with bright red hair and brown eyes.
Henry spoke with a heavy accent. “Came over here because of the
potato famine,” he had already explained. “Didn’t have much choice,
seeing as how everybody was starving to death in Ireland. I miss my
homeland, though. Me and Katie both.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve walked away from a pretty good thing,”
Henry was telling him now. The man took a couple of puffs on his own
cigar. “Wouldn’t you stand to inherit some of that wealth? What takes
you to a place as wild and dangerous as Montana?”
Lettie kept her ears open as she dried a dish. She wanted to know the
answer herself. She could not seem to shake off her attraction to Luke
Fontaine, and for some reason, Nathan took to him as though he had known
the man since birth. Even now he played near Luke, kept trying to give
him his “hossy,” which he normally never let anyone else hold.
There was a loneliness about Luke Fontaine that stirred something in
her she had never felt before, certainly not for any man. She told
herself she must be careful of those feelings, for they could lead
nowhere.
“I decided I wanted to make it on my own,” Luke answered her father.
Lettie detected a deep hurt, even anger, in the way he spoke the words.
“There are a few things my father and I don’t see eye to eye on,” he
continued. “I figured I was better off getting out.” He puffed his own
cigar and glanced at her. Lettie quickly turned away, embarrassed he had
caught her staring. “Besides, I guess I’m just not the kind to walk in
someone else’s footsteps and do the expected. That’s for my older
brother. He’ll take everything over someday. Me, I enjoy the adventure.”
Henry chuckled. “Sounds like a typical young man. You shouldn’t turn
your back on what’s rightfully yours, though, Luke. There will come a
time when you’ll wish you had that inheritance. I’d think it could be a
big help to you if you’re going to be building something for yourself in
Montana. Me, I wish I had had something to fall back on when we lost
every- thing back in Ireland. Of course, that was before Lettie was
born. We’ve been in this country a long time now. Trouble is, disaster
came to greet us again.”
Luke watched smoke curl up from the end of his cigar. “Your
daughter said something about a raid earlier today. I gather you
are victims of the border wars. Lettie said her husband was killed in
a raid.” He noticed the man exchange a warning look with his daughter.
Lettie suddenly put down her dishcloth. She came over to pick up
little Nathan. “It’s time for bed, son.” She glanced at Luke. “Thank
you again for what you did today. If there is anything you need, please
don’t hesitate to tell us.”
Luke looked her over, wishing she wasn’t so damn pretty. He regretted
barking at her earlier that day about not watching her son properly. It
had to be difficult raising a son with no father. He warned himself not
to care about her. Where he was headed was no place for a woman and a
child.
“Fact is,” he answered, “the wagon master has already asked me to do
some of the hunting for the others, seeing as how I don’t have anyone to
look after. Maybe when I’m doing that your brother can take care of my
mules. I’ll see that the family gets some extra meat for it.”
“Well, we’d sure appreciate it!” Henry told him. “Yes. Thank you.”
Luke nodded to Lettie, and for a moment their gaze lingered before
she turned and quickly left. She climbed into the family’s lead wagon.
Luke looked after her, wondering about the change he had sensed
as soon as he had mentioned the raid.
“We’ll be glad to look after your mules when necessary,” Henry told
him then, interrupting his thoughts. “We’ll have to tie them to one
of the wagons, seeing as how me and James and my wife have our hands
full with our own oxen.” The man sighed. “I hate putting my family to
this hard life, but it’s only until we get where we’re going. I gave
them a damn good life in Missouri. I’ve become a wealthy man, Mr.
Fontaine. Up in St. Joseph we had a fine big home and farm, as well as a
couple of businesses in town. We even owned slaves, and I gave them all
their freedom before we left. I figured the time is going to come when
they’ll all be free anyway. Be that as it may, I made a good life for my
family back there, and I don’t ever intend for any of them to suffer
the way Katie and I suffered back in Ireland. I could see that was
beginning to happen again, only for different reasons, so we left.”
“I’m sorry about Lettie’s husband. Did you lose everything?” Henry
stared at the fire thoughtfully. “They burned us out. That was all
before Lettie even had her baby. We stuck it out because she was
carrying. We tried to make it work for a couple more years. Finally,
after a few more raids we decided to leave.
I’ve got enough money to set us up good wherever we go.” Luke nodded.
“That’s good.” So, Lettie’s husband was killed before she even had the
child. That meant he’d been dead for a good two and a half years. It
also meant she must have been about fifteen when she married,
practically a child. It seemed odd that the MacBrides had married off a
daughter that young. “Tell me something, Luke,” Henry asked. “How
old are you? Twenty-six, maybe?”
“Twenty-eight. Why?”
Henry studied him, then shrugged. “Just wondering how a big, strong young man like yourself managed to stay out of the war.”
Luke braced himself. This might be the end of his short friendship
with Henry MacBride and family. He rested his elbows on his knees. “I
didn’t,” he answered. “That’s why I was hurting pretty bad earlier when
that horse kicked me. He got me on my right calf. I was shot and wounded
in that same spot. I’d been in the war for about a year when it
happened— almost lost the lower part of my leg. After that I got
discharged and gladly left. There isn’t anything uglier than what’s
going on in the South right now. Take your border raids and multiply
that several hundred times, and you’ve got an idea what the war is
like. It’s bloody and senseless, and I have no desire to get involved in
it again. I only joined up the first time to get away from my father. I
had a lot of things to think about, wasn’t sure what to do with my
life.”
Henry puffed on the cigar. “What side did you fight on?” Luke gazed intently into the man’s eyes for a moment.
“Union,” he answered. He waited for Henry MacBride to send him
packing. MacBride obviously hated the Kansas jay- hawkers who had
raided his farm and killed his son-in-law. He had even owned slaves.
Surely he was proslavery and pro-South. It was well known that Irish
immigrants had settled throughout the South.
Henry held his eyes. “You ever do any raiding on innocent people?”
“No, sir. I was in the regular army. The only people I raised a weapon against were Confederate soldiers in full battle.”
Henry nodded. “Nothing wrong with that. I know it’s an ugly war,
and everybody has an opinion of who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s when
citizens appoint themselves as the law and decide to fight the battle
their own way that it’s wrong.” He looked over at Sadie, who was singing
as she scrubbed some pans. “I was good to my slaves, but I didn’t
really feel slavery was quite right. I felt better about all of it after
I gave them their freedom. Sadie chose to stay with us. She’s been with
the family so long she’d be heartbroken if I made her go…and homeless. I
pay her now.” He looked Luke over. “Out here there is no room for
feelings about the war, Luke. Out here we’re all the same, and we all
need each other. I don’t hold it against you that you were a Union
man. You’re not wearing a uniform now. You’re just someone who saved
my grandson’s life today, and I thank you for that. You’re welcome to
come back and join our campfire whenever you feel like it.”
“Thank you,” Luke answered. He rose. “I expect I’d better turn in. Tomorrow is going to be another long day.”
“That it is, boy, that it is.” Henry reached out and shook his hand. “We’re glad to share our campfire with you any time.”
Luke glanced at the wagon where Lettie had so quickly disappeared,
wondering why such a beautiful young woman had not found another
husband by now. She’d turn any man’s head, and her little boy would be
easy to love. He bid another good-night to Henry MacBride and left.
Whatever Lettie’s situation was, it wasn’t his affair. His only concern
was to get himself to Montana.
Inside her wagon, Lettie lay beside her son, stroking his white-blond
hair, part of her longing to be a natural woman, another part of her
terrified at the thought. Why had meeting Luke Fontaine stirred these
surprising desires in her? It was foolish, wrong; more than that,
it was hopeless. She studied Nathan by the light of a lantern that hung
nearby, kept lit so the boy wouldn’t be afraid of the dark. His big
brown eyes blinked open, and he smiled softly at her before his eyelids
fluttered closed again.
Lettie supposed she should have thanked Luke Fontaine again, but
decided it was best not to encourage any man. It saved a lot of hurt
later on. Weariness from the long, hard day finally overtook her, and
her own eyes drifted closed. But as it so often did, the horror flashed
into her mind…the raider’s leering face…his white-blond hair…and the
ugly eagerness in his brown eyes. She started awake, looked down at
Nathan to make sure she had not disturbed him.
She gently pulled away from him, knowing that the only way to clear
her head was to stand up for a few minutes. When she moved to the back
of the wagon she saw her sister Louise climbing into the second wagon
which she shared with her mother. Her father and brother slept in the
third wagon. She wondered how Luke would sleep tonight. On the cold,
hard ground, no doubt. Did he have a tent or anything for shelter?
After a time she lay back down. There was another twenty miles to
cover tomorrow, most of it on foot. She would be carrying Nathan part
of the way, trading the boy off with her brother and father. She closed
her eyes again, this time turning her thoughts to Luke, how he had
rescued Nathan, the way he had looked…how he had watched her tonight.
Thunder on the Plains – Excerpt
Following is a short excerpt from THUNDER ON THE PLAINS. It
should be noted that Sunny is our heroine, an extremely wealthy young
woman who has inherited the unlikely position of being a key figure in
the construction of the Transcontinental Railroad. Colt (our hero) is
an Indian scout (half Indian himself) who works off and on for the
railroad builders and who comes from a far different world than Sunny.
Various circumstances keep throwing these two together, and in spite of
the unlikely chance either of these two could belong in the other’s
world, a deep passion and desire that they feel for each other keeps
getting in the way of common sense, until finally … one afternoon …
caught alone out on the prairie … (Colt has pulled Sunny onto his horse
in front of him) –
* * * * *
“Tell me, Colt. What does an Indian do with his captive?”
For a moment everything went silent for Colt. Nothing existed but the
utterly beautiful woman in his arms … her blue eyes … her golden hair.
He moved a hand to rest against the flat of her belly. “He takes her
to his tipi and makes her his slave,” he answered, his voice gruff with
passion.
She touched his face. “That’s what I want you to do with me, Colt. Make me your slave – today, tonight, tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “Sunny –“
She touched his lips. “Don’t say it, Colt. I don’t know what’s right
and wrong anymore, and today I don’t care. I just want you. I’ve
always wanted you. My first time just can’t be with anyone else. I –“
His kiss cut off her words, a deep, hot kiss that removed any
remaining inhibitions. She could barely get her breath for the thrill of
it, the ecstasy of his hand moving to her breast, the ache of womanly
desires that surged in her when his tongue moved between her lips.
Dancer moved slightly, and she clung to Colt. He left her lips for a
moment, keeping one arm around her as he slid off the horse and pulled
her after him.
Thank you for visiting today, Susanne, and best wishes for a successful tour!
Slainthe!
Visions of death haunt her . . .
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