The Hotel LaBelle by Sharon Buchbinder Book Tour and Giveaway :)
The
Haunting of Hotel LaBelle
The
Hotel LaBelle Series Book 1
by
Sharon Buchbinder
Genre:
Paranormal Romance
When
hotel inspector, Tallulah Thompson, is called in along with her pug,
Franny, to investigate renovation delays, she meets an extremely
annoyed and dapper turn-of-the-century innkeeper. The only problem is
he’s in limbo, neither dead nor alive, and Tallulah and the pug are
the first to see him in a hundred years.
Cursed
by a medicine woman, “Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Lucius” Stewart
is stuck between worlds until he finds his true love and gives her
his heart. When he first sees Tallulah, he doesn’t know what he’s
feeling. Yet, her stunning beauty, and feisty attitude pull him
in.
With
the fate of Hotel LaBelle on the line, Tallulah with the help of a
powerful medicine woman turns Lucius back into a flesh and blood man.
She and Lucius team up to save the hotel, but Tallulah can't help but
wonder if he will ever let go of his past love and learn to love
again.
**On
sale for only .99 cents March 1st-29th!!**
Lucius Stewart, a hard-working innkeeper is thrilled he has
finally paid off the loan for his hotel. Now all he has to do is
convince the love of his life, Mourning Dove, to move in with him. A
late night visit brings bad news.
Prologue
Hotel LaBelle, Billings, Montana, 1905
After
five years of hard work, scrimping and saving, today Lucius Stewart’s
dream became reality. This afternoon, he paid the Cattleman’s Bank
off in full, and now held the deed to the beautiful Hotel LaBelle in
his hand. He sat at his desk, sipped an exceptional whiskey from his
bar, and dangled a fine cigar between his lips. He liked it when all
the patrons and staff were in bed, asleep. During the evening in the
crowded bar, with the piano player pounding the keys, it was
impossible to even hear his own thoughts. Lucius
blew a smoke ring and stared at the wood ceiling of his office. A
good day. Perhaps the best of his thirty-five years of life. Though
born and raised in New York City, the West had always called to him.
When his mother died, he sold the family home and headed to Big Sky
Country. During the ten years of working his way up to general
manager in a large hotel in the city, he dreamed of building his own
place. He wanted something for city folks like himself who hankered
after a taste of the frontier—with the civilized amenities of a
soft bed, fine dining, and good wine. If he’d been married, he
would be celebrating with his wife. But the woman he loved turned him
down, saying it would never work. In her nation, the women owned the
home and all the family possessions. When a man and woman married,
the husband moved into the wife’s home. And therein lay the rub.
They came from different worlds. To keep the Hotel LaBelle up and
running, he had to be present, pure and simple. The place wouldn’t
run itself. Lucius knew if he blinked too long the barkeep would
water the liquor, the cowboys would tear the place apart, and the
hotel would be destroyed. So, he decided they were
getting married, and she was moving in with him. They
had to, especially with a little one on the way. An awful
thought sprang into his mind. What if something happened to him
before he could convince her his way was the right way? Life
was unpredictable. Hadn’t his father died when he was a small
child? If his father hadn’t provided for his mother, Lord only knew
what his life would have been like growing up. Lucius set the deed to
the hotel aside, picked up a pen, dipped it into the inkwell, and
began to write.
****
An hour
later, satisfied with his work, he dropped the pen on the desk. As
soon as the ink dried, he’d put the second document in his safe
place, along with the deed. Right now, he was plumb beat. He leaned
back in his chair, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
“Lucius Stewart!” He fell backward, hitting the
chair and his head on the wall. He rubbed the back of his skull and
searched for the source of the voice. “Who’s
there? What do you want? I don’t have any money—I took it all to
the bank today.” An old woman stepped out of the shadows. She wore a buckskin dress
covered in elk teeth. Eagle feathers perched on her head as if about
to take flight. Anger creased her tanned face. “Beautiful Blackfeather.”
The mother of the woman he loved stood before him, the feathers on
her head trembling, and her face twisted in rage. “What’s wrong?
Why are your arms bleeding? What happened to your hair? Is Mourning
Dove not well?” Shaking
from head to toe, his heart thundered in his chest like a bear
trapped in a cage. All the traditional signs of mourning were right
there in front of him, but he refused to believe his eyes. No, it
couldn’t be. His vision blurred and he wailed. “No, no, tell me
it isn’t so. Tell me Mourning Dove lives, please!” “Do
not speak of my daughter, you worthless dog,” she spoke in Crow at
the same time her hands flew in Plains Indian hand talk so fast and
with such fury, he could barely keep up. “Slow down,” he signed back. “What is wrong?” “You. You are what’s wrong. You lay with so many women, you
thought my daughter was another to toss aside. Now there is a child
and you are not man enough to make things right.” “That’s
not true!” Lucius jumped to his feet. “I love your daughter. I
want to marry her. Here in my hotel, with a judge. Make it legal in
the eyes of Montana law and white folks. Show her she’s worth more
to me than a bride price of a horse.” “Liar,”
Beautiful Blackfeather signed. “You love and leave all women. You
hurt many and will do it no more.” “No, no, no. You don’t understand. I don’t want any other
women.” Exasperated, he withdrew a gold wedding band from his
pocket and held it out for Beautiful to see. “For Mourning Dove.” She
pulled her medicine stick out of her belt and aimed it at his face. A
wispy white feather hung on the tip and moved with his breath. She
spoke in Crow. Though difficult to understand, Lucius knew enough of
the language to recognize she cursed him. Beautiful Blackfeather
wasn’t any ordinary mother-in-law to be. The Crow considered her
the most powerful Medicine Woman in Montana. He had to stop her, make
her comprehend his intentions. The room
spun, colors twisted and whirled like a kaleidoscope, and his fingers
and toes tingled. He grabbed the edge of the desk and squeezed his
eyes shut to maintain his balance as the floor shifted. He opened
them to discover Beautiful Blackfeather was gone. When he raised his
hands to wipe away the sweat soaking his face, his stomach hit the
floor. His hands had disappeared too.
Legacy
of Evil
The
Hotel LaBelle Series Book 2
When
a wild mustang is shot in Montana, renowned horse whisperer and
telepath, Emma Horserider, is called in to calm the herd and find out
what happened. Once on scene she is almost killed by a bullet-spewing
drone, and calls her black ops brother for back-up.
Emma's
help roars into her life covered in tattoos and riding a Harley.
Remote viewer Bronco Winchester takes the assignment because he is
ordered to, but he wonders what type of assistance, his boss's sister
needs. That is until he sees Emma, a valiant Warrior Woman proud of
her Crow heritage.
Posing
as a married couple, Emma and Bronco go undercover to infiltrate and
stop a hate group. Both are anxious enough without the now growing
attachment they feel for one another. When the lives of many are on
the line, they are not sure if they will live or die—let alone have
a chance at love.
**On
sale for only .99 cents March 1st-29th!!**
Prologue
Wild
Mustang Ranch, Montana/Wyoming Border
Emma Horserider
pressed the gas pedal of her battered pick-up truck like a NASCAR
driver in a dead heat with the devil. She hoped no mountain goats
decided to go for a walk in the middle of the road winding around the
side of the rocky cliff. She didn’t have time to stop and wait for
the stubborn beasts to decide if they would charge her truck or get
out of the way. She was on a mission to protect the horses she loved
and help to keep them unfettered by human saddles and reins. The call from Margie
Hunter, the long-time director of the Wild Mustang Ranch, had been
frantic, almost incoherent, “Terrible. Slaughtered. Horses
panicked. Get here fast!” A lump rose in her
throat, and tears threatened at the recollection of Margie’s
grief-strangled message. She shook her head. “None of that nonsense, Horserider. Marines
don’t cry. Semper Fi!” As she shouted out the last words
with a defiant whoop, she rounded the last bend in the road. Stunned
at seeing the gates closed, she skidded to a halt in front of the
white truck with the ranch logo parked dead center in the way. A
string bean of a man in a worn Stetson, boots, and shearling vest
leaned against the hood of the vehicle, a shotgun cradled in his
arms. Holy crap.” She’d never seen anyone
bearing arms out here, much less standing guard. Things must be even
worse than she thought. Grateful she’d brought her trusty Mossberg,
Emma rolled down her window. “Thank God you’re
here, Miss Emma.” Ralph, the director’s aged right hand man
removed his hat and dragged the sleeve of his red plaid shirt across
his pleated brow. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my
life.” The creases on his sun-weathered face deepened. “We have
no idea how it happened. No one’s been up here except the
employees.” He pointed at the video camera mounted on the gatepost.
“Nobody came through this gate last night. No one.” “Let me get in, see what’s going on.” Shoulders sagging, he
nodded and opened the gate. “Talk to them, Miss Emma,” he called
as she drove through. “They trust you.” Much as she kept her
gift under wraps from the outside world, here in this equine
sanctuary, everyone knew of her special bond with the animals. Her
ancestor, Beautiful Blackfeather, would have called it horse
medicine. Her brother Bert called it telepathy, in keeping with his
work as Director of Homeland Security’s Anomaly Defense Division.
No matter what other people called this ability, Emma had been born
with an unbreakable sacred bond with horses, one handed down through
generations of the Crow or Absaalooke people. When old age, sickness,
or injury carried a mustang away, it was hard on the entire herd.
But … Death
by violence?
Eye
of the Eagle
The
Hotel LaBelle Series Book 3
One
soars like an eagle. One strikes like a thunderbird.
But for both
hearts, revenge can be deadly when it's nourished.
Anomaly
Defense Director and shapeshifter Bert Blackfeather doesn't need a
boss with no experience. So what if she's beautiful or gives him a
jolt when she shakes his hand? He never plans to get seriously
involved with another woman--not in this lifetime.
Phoebe
Wagner, an empath with psychometric abilities and an advocate for the
deaf, gets more than she bargained for with Bert. One touch and she
relives his IED injuries. So what if he's handsome and hot? She
doesn't need to add his secrets to her own. Phoebe's are bad
enough.
When his niece goes missing from Hotel LaBelle, Bert
goes to Montana to help--and Phoebe insists on going with him. Can
these two hard-headed people share their darkest secrets in order to
work together? It may be the only way to save an endangered
child--and their own hearts when Bert's past rears its ugly head.
**On
sale for only .99 cents March 1st-29th!!**
Day
2
Bert Blackfeather is in
Washington, D.C., dealing with the annoyance of a new and
inexperienced boss. She’s a nuisance to be dealt with at work,
nothing more. Or so he thinks.
Chapter One
Washington, D.C.
Homeland Security
Headquarters
Bert Blackfeather stared
at the email on his screen, re-read it for the tenth time, and shook
his head in disbelief. A political appointee—a woman with
absolutely no background in Homeland Security or any other
intelligence matters—was now his new boss, the Under Secretary for
Management. Unbelievable. Third in command of the Department of
Homeland Security (DHS), assistant and advisor to the Secretary and
Under Secretary on all administrative, financial, and personnel
matters—and not a blessed thing in her bio indicated she was fit
for the position—except the fact that her mother was the
highest-ranking member of the U.S. Senate Select Committee on
Intelligence. Not that he disliked
Senator Ruth Wagner. She asked good questions, some so penetrating he
wondered if she had a few psychic powers of her own. Her willingness
to reach across the aisle and her impeccable integrity meant she
accomplished more than many of her male colleagues who had served in
the role. Senator Wagner’s husband, a member of the senior
leadership team of the U.S. State Department, had died in a
mysterious boating accident on the Chesapeake Bay. His unoccupied
twenty-two-foot power boat had run aground on Tilghman Island, and
the Coast Guard recovered his body two days later. The Medical
Examiner said he died from drowning in brackish water, combined with
hypothermia. Arguing that the bay was salt, not fresh or brackish
water, rumor had it the senator had demanded the case be reopened,
but neither the Talbot County Police, the Maryland State Police, nor
a private investigator could find evidence of wrongful death. Case
closed, Ruth Wagner soldiered on, raising her daughter on her own,
without the live-in help she could have well afforded. If Senator
Wagner had been the political appointee, he would have been fine with
the placement. But accept her unqualified daughter as his equal, much
less his superior? Never. The previous Under
Secretary’s management style had been much more hands off, seldom
interfering with his division—unless he ran over budget. This one,
on the other hand—can you say micro-manager? Already, without even
asking him if he wanted to do it, with not so much as an email, the
new Under Secretary had appointed him to the intra-agency and
inter-agency committee to combat human trafficking, the Blue
Campaign. He had attended one
session in person and found nothing of substantive value for him to
contribute or learn. Besides, he had no desire to sit in face-to-face
meetings while his wet-behind-the-ears boss sat with the head honchos
in the enormous meeting room. In this case, maintaining a low profile
was his best strategy. Rather than wasting his time watching the
other directors and assistant directors vie for her attention, he
chose to attend the monthly meeting by conference call. At least that way, he
could get some work done and say “Bert Blackfeather, Director of
the Anomaly Defense Division” when the chair asked who beeped in on
the call. No one ever questioned him not attending the meeting in
person, one of the few perks of being in a wheelchair. Most people
had little understanding of what he could or could not do. He allowed
them to assume his disability kept him away from the face-to- face
meetings—not his lack of interest in the committee. It wasn’t as if he
didn’t care about human trafficking. He did. Passionately. DHS was
doing good work—between the committee meetings—not during them.
The Anomaly Defense Division, however, had more than enough on its
plate pursuing leads on terrorist plots. If Immigration and Customs
Enforcement (ICE) or the other divisions needed his help, they knew
where to find him, even if they didn’t know exactly what he and his
agents did. That information was on a need-to-know basis. And they
didn’t need to know. Irritated, he shrugged his
shoulders, opened the fists he’d unconsciously been squeezing, and
shook his arms to release the tension. He should have gone to the gym
this morning. Thirty-three laps in the pool, some bench presses,
pull-ups, biceps curls, and he’d be loose and relaxed. Maybe. His eyes strayed to the
computer monitor again. A stunning champagne blonde smiled at him
from the photo. Maybe he read the announcement too fast. He prided
himself in considering all the facts before making a judgment. He
took a deep breath, and re-read the email in the hopes he had missed
some indication of her management expertise: Born and raised in
Washington, DC, Phoebe Wagner attended Gallaudet University and
obtained a B.A. in International Studies. Ms. Wagner continued her
education at Georgetown Law and earned a JD, specializing in
International and Comparative Law. A fierce advocate for deaf
children, she won a coveted Fulbright Scholarship to conduct research
on economic disparities at the Mexican Institute for the Deaf in
Mexico City. Ms. Wagner is excited about the opportunity to apply her
international expertise and diversity initiatives as part of her role
as Under Secretary. When not volunteering her time as a legal
consultant for the Deaf Community, Ms. Wagner can be found walking
her miniature dachshund, horse-back riding, or practicing her martial
arts. “International expertise
and diversity initiatives? Is she going to have us sitting around in
sensitivity training sessions, asking us to reveal our deepest,
darkest prejudices,” he wondered out loud. “Fat chance.” Rolling his wheelchair to
the dust streaked window overlooking the parking lot of the Nebraska
Avenue complex, Bert stared down at the cars moving in and out and
wondered which luxury vehicle belonged to the new Under Secretary. A knock pulled him out of
his reverie. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He moved his chair to
behind the desk and folded his hands—his “official” pose. “Come
in.” The door opened and two
women walked in, the first an attractive African American woman with
salt and pepper hair, the second a breathtaking blonde. “Mr. Blackfeather, I’m
Jean Johnson, and I’m a member of the DHS team of Interpreters for
Under Secretary Wagner,” the first woman announced, positioning
herself so the tall woman at her side could see her easily. She
signed as she spoke. “I will speak when interpreting for Ms. Wagner
and sign when interpreting for you, Mr. Blackfeather. Everything said
in our conversations will be kept confidential. Also, I have a
top-secret security clearance, should you need to discuss such
matters. I will be using the first person, but you should keep your
focus on Ms. Wagner, and not on me. This signal—” she held her
hand up like a traffic cop, “—means I’d like you to pause so I
can keep up with the interpretation. Everything said in this room
will be interpreted. There are no side conversations with me, this is
your conversation with Ms. Wagner.” Phew. Had the room
temperature risen ten degrees? Or was it him?
Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. She is the author of the Hotel LaBelle Series, the Jinni Hunter Series, and the Obsession Series. When not attempting to make students and colleagues laugh or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, herding cats, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL.
Character Profile: Emma Horserider aka Emma Bearkiller from Legacy of Evil, Hotel LaBelle Series, Book 2
By Sharon Buchbinder
Emma is a tall,
athletic, muscular, Crow woman with high cheek bones, oval face,
beautiful brown eyes, long black hair, and a regal bearing. Emma
trains horses, and is known as a horse whisperer—but she’s truly
telepathic. Her horse medicine is a gift from her ancestor, Medicine
Woman Beautiful Blackfeather. Her work with horses is well known
throughout equine circles. She works with the Indian Relay Racers,
breaks horses in for new owners, and supports the a Wild Mustang herd
on the Montana/Wyoming border.
Emma is all about
relationships and is connected with family, clansmen and animals.
While she appears to be laid back, she is very much in charge of her
own life and not interested in changing her ways to conform to any
man’s ideas of what a woman should be—or do. She is hard-working,
respected in the community, and takes care of those she loves. Emma
grew up connected to the earth and the world of animals. Her brother,
Bert Blackfeather takes after his Medicine Woman ancestor and is an
eagle shape shifter as Beautiful was. Brother and sister share a
special bond because of these gifts. When trouble strikes, as it did
in Iraq when her brother stepped on an IED, Emma felt the explosion
and the pain in her legs. She knew immediately he was injured and
near death. The connection goes both ways. At
the age of sixteen, Emma killed a Grizzly bear when it attacked
another girl while camping. She sustained claw marks and scars on her
back and saved the other girl’s life—although her friend lost a
leg. Emma followed the family into the military and served with
distinction. After her stint in the USMC, she returned to the
reservation to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her
life. The horses called to her—literally—and her path was clear. Emma’s
weaknesses are her pride and fear. She is proud of her heritage
and her family. She fears losing face to Bronco, the man her brother
sends to protect her. She worked too hard to get where she is to lose
face to a man. She also fears losing her family members. Falling in
love and losing herself in a man, becoming an appendage, rather than
the independent Crow woman she has always been is not on her agenda.
Over the course of the story, Emma takes risks with her life and her
heart. She learns that love can come from the most unlikely
situations—including hate at first sight.
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