I’d like to welcome Shiloh Saddler to the blog and to the first step on the Virgin Madam tour.
Today is a very exciting day for me. My debut novella The Virgin Madam (Girls and Guns, Book 1) was released from Decadent Publishing a few hours ago. I am officially now a published author! Squeal.
I’d like to thank Daisy Banks for hosting me and kicking off my blog tour.
You’re welcome, Shiloh.
It is time to party! Where is the open bar? Oh, we don’t have an open bar? Darn. I guess I’ll have to settle for virtual drinks at The Honey Ranch, Laura’s brothel in Bitterroot Flats, California.
In 1879 there wasn’t much for entertainment in a dusty hole in the wall western town. The population was mostly male and well they tended to do three things: drink, gamble, and fight. Bitterroot Flats used to be a booming town thanks to the California Gold Rush. After the gold ran out the only reason it didn’t turn into a ghost town was the fact it had water. See Bitterroot Flats is nearly a desert. The cattle drives pushed through the town and they needed water for their stock. So Bitterroot Flats stayed in business.
Laura’s father headed west with her and his wife. Along the way his wife took ill and died. Instead of taking his daughter the rest of the way and starting the farm his wife dreamed of he gave into his vice. A man had needs. His wife gone he needed someone to numb the pain in his heart and the emptiness in his bed. He’d thought he’d strike it rich building a brothel in Bitterroot Flats.
He didn’t strike it rich. He found himself living in a rattlesnake den. Bitterroot Flats no longer had a real lawman. It was run by the Fletcher Gang. William Ash, a member of the Fletcher Gang, murdered him over one of the working women and Laura found herself now the madam of Honey Ranch.
Leave a comment and you could win a copy of the Virgin Madam today.
Time for the can-can show. My heart palpitated in anticipation. Shamelessly I watched the four women file on stage in their long matching red skirts and black stockings. A red feather in their hair.
Mr. Woodson finished the intro music. I gave him a small smile and nod before returning my attention to the women. I let out a quiet sigh. They were all beauties. When I was younger I cried myself to sleep wishing I had their figure; now full grown, I had given up on that dream. I wasn’t tall and leggy like Lulu. I wasn’t as curvy as Rose. I didn’t have Amanda’s fiery red hair or Delilah’s flawless complexion. I was just average.
The black silk chokers around their necks helped draw attention to their faces and lower to their breasts. The ladies grabbed their skirts and walked to the edge of the stage, swishing their skirts suggestively and showing off their white bloomers. Many men let out cheers or said lewd comments. Ash rushed in and grabbed a seat. He leaned back in his chair put two fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. Like me, he caught as many performances as he could. The bastard had become a regular fixture in Bitterroot Flats, easily partaking in the entitlements. Including murder. He must have had a past with Fletcher. Done jobs together, maybe even served time together.
I had to put up with him. But I didn’t have to pretend to like him. I seared his back with a fiery stare, hoping he could feel my anger.
I wish I never had to see Ash again. I wish I had the power to ban him from the Honey Ranch. The power to keep him from Amanda would be some satisfaction, but the Fletcher Gang owned the town. Ash could do whatever he damn pleased and I was powerless to stop him.
Ash wasn’t going to spoil the show for me. I focused on the women, their every seductive move. The dancers turned around in place before prancing around the stage in a small circle, flashing the gentlemen big smiles. Their faces, heavily painted with rouge and lip paint, glowed under the stage’s lighting. A thrill zipped through me when they formed a line again and started their high kicks. Some of the men clapped, keeping time with the music. Others tapped their empty beer glasses on the tables. The rowdy atmosphere didn’t bother me anymore. The scent of beer and whiskey wafted through the air, mixing with the smell of sweat, horses, and the honeysuckle perfume the ladies wore. I easily tuned out the men, my attention narrowing to the women working the stage as if their lives depended on it. How they managed to dance so well in those high-heeled black boots I’d never know. They helped show off their legs, though. And I could drool over all those legs. Heat and desire burning in my belly, I hoped no one could read my dirty thoughts.
Shiloh Saddler likes to do research for her steamy romances first hand. She has invented a time machine and travels back to the 19th century on a regular basis. There are experimental settings on her time machine which could propel her into the future and even other worlds. She believes love and a good book makes anything possible.
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History in the Hot Lane Blog: http://shilohsaddler.blogspot.com/