Spotlight & Giveaway: The Prospector’s Only Prospect by Dani Collins

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Dani Collins to HJ!

Hi Dani and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Prospector’s Only Prospect!

Hi Harlequin Junkie! I’m so excited to be visiting you today!
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

*Grumpy/Sunshine
*Single Dad/Mail-Order Bride
*Denver Gold Rush
*Forced Proximity
*Banter, chemistry, HEA
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

After eight days of steady travel, every bone in Marigold Davis’s body creaked when she stepped down from the stagecoach. She was rattled and rumpled and no doubt smelled of her fellow travelers’ cigars, which at least disguised her lack of a recent bath.

The Leavenworth City & Pike’s Peak Express Company had touted itself as “tremendously comfortable,” but that was a gross overstatement. Perhaps it wasn’t their fault that any carriage ride longer than an hour made her sick, but the drunken mule driver, the windstorm that had left her blowing into her gloves to warm her hands, and the mosquito swarms that had pocked her face with bites hadn’t helped.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

• The Prospector’s Only Prospect is my first Western Historical!
• My daughter gave me the idea to make my heroine a divorcee. She had read something about how awful women were treated when they sought divorce back in olden times and I knew immediately the experience would make Marigold strong, but vulnerable.
• One of the reasons I chose the Denver gold rush was because I felt I had a handle on the Rocky Mountains as a setting. When I was 18, I worked at a ski hill in the Canadian Rockies. (I haven’t actually been to Denver, but the town was barely there in 1859, when my book is set.)
• I was constantly doing research for the smallest things. I learned that canned goods were invented because Napoleon wanted to supply his army with food that wouldn’t spoil, but it was fifty years later when someone invented a can-opener. (Technically, they were invented the year before my book opens, but I didn’t think they would be in common use on the frontier, so my hero uses a knife.)
• When I first envisioned Virgil, I pictured James Garner in Support Your Local Sheriff. In later versions, Virgil took on more of his own character, but initially that was my inspiration.

What first attracts your main characters to each other?

Chemistry!

They’re actually at odds initially. Marigold loses her home and the only option that presents itself is to take her sister’s place as a mail-order bride. Virgil is immediately suspicious, but he has three children and a gold mining operation to oversee. They’re stuck with each other.

They’re drawn by a shared sense of humor, though. And Virgil admires Marigold’s toughness while she’s grateful he’s willing to protect her in this harsh place.
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe your main characters”love affair?

Slow burn to soul mates.
 

The First Kiss…

Without warning, her arms encircled one of his. She hugged it, and she set her forehead below his shoulder. He tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

“You will never be like that with them,” she assured him fervently.

“I’m not a child, Marigold. I don’t need comforting.”

“I do. So shush. Then you can go off to Denver and growl at the rest of the world for a few days. Give me a much-needed break from it.”

“You are such a pain in my ass.” The shard of glass in his chest stung, pressed by a chuckle he refused to release. The fact she made him want to laugh right after a walk through his worst memories was something he both resented and relished. Same as her, he supposed, and looked down the top of her head. How did such a little bit of a thing hold so much honey and vinegar?

“You think you’re not a thorn in mine?” She lifted her head. “Buy me another cushion while you’re away. God knows I need it.”

He lost his battle with what sense he had and scooped his arm around her, pulling her to stand in front of him so he could kiss that smart mouth of hers.

She gave a squeak of shock against the press of his lips to hers and went all stiff, but in the next heartbeat she melted. It was his undoing.

He wrapped both his arms across her back and slanted his head to get a full, satisfying taste of her mouth. Her curves were everything as she pressed into him and her fingertips caressed his collarbone beneath the bend of his collar. Then here was her tongue brushing against his and bringing his cock to full attention.

Even as he groaned, however, she drew a sharp inhale and pushed herself away from him.

Damn. But also, good. They shouldn’t. But damn. He wanted to keep her right here but fought the urge. She was being sensible for both of them, pressing her fingertips to her mouth and shaking her head.

“That—”

“I know. You’re my housekeeper. I won’t treat you the way my mother was treated.” His voice hardened as he saw the similarity. “That won’t happen again,” he vowed.

She was only a faceless silhouette, but he saw her nod.

“Safe travels.” She hurried into the cabin.

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

The chamber pot is hilarious, in my opinion, but a snippet will give too much away. My other favorite is when she gives him a haircut:

The cold metal began to clip along his nape. He watched his broken, dirty nails curl into his palms.
The blades made a few passes against his neck, barely warming from the heat of his body, then began to clip around his ears.

“Don’t move,” she warned softly.

It was downright erotic, holding still like this while she petted his hair and gathered it in bunches. He held his breath but heard hers along with the soft rustle of her clothes. Her short skirt brushed his knees and the back of his hands.

The clip-clip of the scissor blades worked around his head and down the side of his face, making his beard itch. Just as he was about to scratch into it, she began pinching sections of whiskers. Her knuckles brushed his cheekbone and grazed his lips.

He was caught in ecstatic torture. His mouth watered. His pulse was throbbing in the tip of his stiff cock, dampening the eye. Her clothes smelled of flour and the familiar must of the cabin and the warm musk of a woman.

As he spread his knees, she stepped between. He opened his eyes enough to see the swells of her breasts beneath her coat. Were her nipples hard? Did she like them to be sucked?

He felt as though his skin had shrunk and he would split right out of it if he didn’t put his hands and mouth on her. Everything in him wanted to grab her and kiss her and fuck the daylights out of both of them.

“You have a widow’s peak. I didn’t realize…”

“Why does that matter?” Through his haze of arousal, he lifted his attention enough to catch her pulling her face into a grimace of apprehension.

“It doesn’t.” Her voice was high and sharp enough to cut through his sexual trance. “I’ll just…” She pinched and clipped and wrinkled her nose, face confounded.

“Marigold.” His blood cooled. Fast. “You said you knew how to do this.”

“You’re my first man. I understand most find that to be a thrill. I’ve never understood why. The first flapjack is always the worst of the batch. Everyone knows that.”

“Very funny.” He brushed her hands away and ran his hands over his hair. It didn’t feel anything like after the barber had finished with him. “How bad is it?”

“It’s fine,” she insisted but looked as if she needed to pee. “Maybe if these were sharper?” She snipped the air twice. “You’re not paying for it,” she reminded him.

“Jesus Christ.” He rose and went to the window, shifted to glimpse his reflection in the glass. “I look like a half-peeled potato!”

She bit her lips, showing no contrition at all. “I’ll get better now that I know what not to do.”

Muttering every curse word he knew, he slapped his hat over his chewed-up head and stalked off to work.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

See above about the haircut and the chamber pot. Also the bear and the arrival of the outlaws, but the parts where Virgil begins to bond with his children are wonderfully heart-wrenching, too.

“Papa?” Nettie peeked out Marigold’s bedroom door.

He touched his lips and motioned for her to come out. He shook out Marigold’s shawl from where she’d left it on the bench and held it up for his daughter.

She let him swaddle her into it and giggled when he picked her up and squeezed her.

“What’s up, little bug?” he asked quietly. “You should stay in bed where it’s warm.”

“Is Levi coming home today?”

Ah. “Today or tomorrow. If he’s late, don’t you worry. The bears are looking for a place to sleep for winter. They aren’t interested in chewy boys.”

“How do you know he’s chewy? Did you bite him?”

“Ha. You got me. I never have. Maybe I should bite you? See if you’re chewy?” He clacked his teeth.

She giggled and wiggled inside the snug shawl, then let her head tip onto his shoulder. “I miss him,” she said wistfully.

“If he comes home today, they’ll arrive in the afternoon. Do you want to come down to the office later and wait with us?”

She nodded.

“You tell Marigold when she wakes up that I said you could.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Nettie pecked his cheek. “I love you.”

He nearly dropped her, he was so shocked. “I—”

He’d never said those words to anyone except Clara. Even then, he hadn’t been sure he’d meant them, not with anything more than the superficial infatuation of a young man. Not like this, where he would lay down his life to protect this earnest face and wiry but delicate body.

“I love you, too, little bug.” The tangled knot in the depths of his chest felt pulled so taut, its threads threatened to snap, but the ache of that tension felt strangely good. Terrifying, but the fact those knots held strong was reassuring in its odd way.

He cleared his throat, feeling foolish for how moved he was. He set her on her feet.

Readers should read this book …

if they like historical romances with plucky heroines and grumpy heroes, a slow burn that gets *very* hot, found family, banter, emotional depth and a very swoony ending.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’ve turned in another Western Romance with some related characters. I don’t want to say too much because I haven’t heard back on it yet.

Readers can check my website Coming Soon page for all my upcoming titles or join my newsletter and get notified when I release a new book. 🙂

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: One print copy of THE PROSPECTOR’S ONLY PROSPECT

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Excerpt from The Prospector’s Only Prospect:

“The truth is, Mr. Gardner…” She forced herself to lift her chin and not cower before his intimidating presence. “Pearl was unable to make it. I’m her sister, Marigold Davis.”
He ignored her offered hand. His narrowed eyes squinted even harder.
Her heart gave a thud of alarm, but she forced herself to continue speaking.
“A man of our acquaintance learned of Pearl’s plan to marry here and professed his feelings for her. They’re likely engaged by now. Since I also need a husband, I took it upon myself…”
Was he physically growing larger as she spoke, like an anvil head preparing to send tornadoes whipping across the land?
“You did describe your situation as urgent,” she reminded him. So was hers. His letter with the ticket for Pearl had arrived while they’d been picking through the ashes of their farmhouse. Marigold had had to decide within a matter of hours whether she would take a chance on meeting him here today or return the ticket unused. She’d had plenty of time to regret this leap into the unknown while she was bouncing around in the stagecoach, but it was too late to go back now. She had nowhere to go back to anyway.
“Why didn’t you write to me when your sister did?” he demanded. “So I could make the choice between you myself?”
Because she had thought her sister weak in the head for replying to such an outrageous ad. Which likely said something about her own faculties, now that she stood before him.
“My circumstance changed very suddenly.” She gave her arms a rest and set her carpetbag on the dusty ground by her feet. “I wasn’t planning to marry…again,” she mumbled while she was bent. She warily peered upward as she straightened.
“You’re widowed?” His brows lifted.
“Divorced?” She didn’t mean to sound so uncertain. There was no doubt about it. She definitely was divorced.
Crash went those dark brows, exactly like thunderheads.
“Whatever you’re selling, lady, I ain’t buying. You owe me a ticket on the Express and fifty cents postage.”
“Mr. Gardner, I’m not— Wait!” She grabbed his arm as he started to turn away, earning a glare that Medusa herself would have found petrifying.
Marigold had had plenty of time while she’d been rolling like a loose marble in the carriage to formulate Plans B and C, anticipating that Plan A might not work out. Plying her wares at a brothel was down around W, and posting a “husband wanted” ad in a saloon was a solid F.
None of those plans offered what he had, though. If Mr. Gardner didn’t accept her, she had no real options. No home to go back to, no money to go anywhere else, no family or friends to help her. No food. She would have to throw herself on some other man’s mercy, and this one, at least, had made what had seemed like an honorable offer. The scar made him seem dangerous, but there was something in his air of command that was also reassuring.
“You don’t have to marry me,” she blurted. “I like children. I’m good with them, and I’m one of the most educated women you’ll find this side of the Missouri River. Two years more than my sister. I’ve been cooking and keeping house for my uncle. I know how to grow a garden and put up preserves. I can sew. Do you really wish to start over with your search when I’m right here?”
“I already hired a Ute woman to dry meat and make my children’s clothes. I want a wife, Mrs. Davis.” He said her name like it was an accusation. “Having been married before, you should understand a man needs more than a hot meal and a mended shirt.”
The way his gaze raked over her seemed to strip her bare and score into her skin, but the underlying contemplation made her blood sing in her veins.
All sorts of affronted words jumbled together in the back of her mouth. Part of her wanted to say, Women have needs, too. She had found a certain comfort in snuggling close to a man in the night, but whatever she’d found in her marriage bed had been a lie. Ben had sought his comforts elsewhere, and things had gone horribly wrong.
The injustice of her divorce still made her chest ache and her throat close. It was doubly unbearable when Virgil Gardner stared at her as if he knew all of that and judged her as harshly as everyone else had.
She hadn’t let herself dwell on the conjugal aspects of marrying a stranger, though.
Which left her holding this man’s lengthy, challenging stare while blushing—because she found herself…speculating. What would it be like to lie with him?
An honorable woman would feel intimidated or repulsed by his open talk of marital relations, but Marigold was involuntarily reassessing Mr. Gardner’s broad shoulders and thick thighs and wide hands. Something in her found them intriguing. She wondered how his beard might feel in the crook of her neck and whether he knew how to kiss in a way that would scatter her thoughts.
As her face heated and the silence drew out, the colors around her grew sharper. Noises seemed both louder and more distant, as if she were under water. The walls of the alley seemed to close in.
His eyes turned black with a faint halo of silver. He licked his lips and set a hand on the mud-spattered wall. His gaze strolled down the buttons of her short coat again, this time more slowly. He took in the flare of her hips all the way down to the bloomers he had disparaged.
If there’d been any room in her shoes, she would have curled her toes, so visceral was the tickling touch of his attention as it lingered on her ankles.
He took his time coming back to meeting her eyes, and her skin grew tighter while strange yearnings twisted inside her. She resisted acknowledging or labeling the sensations because they were embarrassing. Telling. Unseemly.
The haze of interest in his gray eyes held remnants of suspicion as he asked gruffly, “Why are you divorced?”
She dampened her lips, heart seesawing in her chest. “Do you want the reason it was granted or the reason it happened?”
“Both.”
She looked down to her wringing hands. “My husband wandered, but he convinced the court I was the one who lacked virtue.”
“Do you?”
She straightened her arms at her sides, hands clenching into fighting fists. “I’m being honest with you right now, aren’t I?”
“I have no way of knowing whether anything you’ve said is true.” He crossed his arms. “Why do you want a husband? What are you expecting?”
She opened her mouth, then exhaled as she frowned. She didn’t want a husband. She wanted…
“A roof. A sense of permanence. Protection,” she admitted with a pang of despair at not being the resourceful, independent woman she had always aspired to be. It had been lowering to discover how little power she really had. Her dignity and basic necessities and rights had all been casually disregarded.

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Ordering a bride was supposed to be easy…

After eight days in a cramped stagecoach, divorcée Marigold Davis already regrets her decision to come to Denver City to marry. She certainly didn’t realize she’d signed up for mosquitos, mud, and scores of rough men eyeing her like a hot meal on a cold day. But with her life in Kansas all but incinerated, Marigold needs a husband. Even if she’s not the bride that gold prospector Virgil Gardner is expecting…

Virgil Gardner has a reputation as a grumpy hard-ass, and he’s fine with it. He’s also no fool – this is not the woman he agreed to marry. It takes a tough-as-nails woman to survive the harshness of a Rocky Mountain gold claim, and this whiskey-eyed, gentle beauty is certainly not the type. Now it’s just a matter of how quickly she’ll quit, so he can find a wife who will stick. Someone who can care for the only thing he values even more than gold–his children.

But Marigold isn’t about to give in. Cramped in a one room shack. Berry picking turned into a bear escape. Or, cooking for an entire crew of bottomless pits. She’s got more grit than most. And just when Virgil starts to realize his replacement bride might be the treasure he’s been looking for, an unannounced guest arrives… to change everything.

The rush is on for both gold and marriage in this charming historical.
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Meet the Author:

Award-winning and USA Today Bestselling author Dani Collins thrives on giving readers emotional, compelling, heart-soaring romance with laughter and heat thrown in, just like real life. Best known for writing contemporary romance, she is exploring a new frontier with her Western Historical, The Prospector’s Only Prospect, releasing March 28th from Entangled Amara. When she’s not writing—just kidding, she’s always writing. Dani lives in Southern BC, Canada with her high school sweetheart husband.
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