Message From The Author

Kat Martin

Genre: Pre-Civil War, America, Historical Romance

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Midnight Rider

Above my couch hangs an incredible 4' x 5' portrait of a dark-eyed, black-haired outlaw with a face any woman would love. He could easily fit in the raw early days of California. midnight rider (St. Martin's Press, Mar. '96) is the tale I think my swarthy fellow would tell me if he could.

Ramon de la Guerra is dark and dangerous, the epitome of the tall Spanish don. Carly McConnell, a fiery little Irish girl from the Pennsylvania mine patch is his nemesis-and what a battle they wage! Here is an excerpt:

Unconsciously, Carly took a step away. "This is Del Robles land. You're trespassing."

Ramon strode toward her, his expression dark and unreadable. "Ah, querida...surely you would not begrudge a man a visit to the place that was once his home." He didn't stop till he reached her, his tall hard body towering over her small frame.

"I-I'm not dressed. The least you can do is turn around so that I may put on my clothes."

A corner of his mouth inched up. "Why would I wish to do that?"

"Certainly not because you are a gentleman."

He laughed at that, a bitter sardonic sound. "No, certainly not because of that."

Her heart was throbbing, pounding against her ribs. Still she didn't glance away. "I think that you should leave."

He laughed again, a little less harshly. "I had forgotten what a tiger you can be when you are angry."

"And I had forgotten how infuriating you can be." She reached for her riding habit, folded neatly and resting atop a rock. Ramon reached for it too, pulled it from her trembling fingers.

"You will not need least not yet."

Heat rolled through her. Dear God. She looked into those hot dark eyes, saw the hunger he made no attempt to disguise. God in heaven, even after all he had done, she still wanted him. Perhaps in that moment, more than ever before.

He must have read her thoughts for he caught her arm and dragged her hard against him. His mouth curved faintly.

" feel it, too. I had wondered..."

"Let me go, Ramon."

He only shook his head. "No, querida. I do not think so...not this time."

Readers can write Kat Martin c/o St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Ave., New York, NY 10010. An SASE would be appreciated.

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