Cherish Wright is here to tell us about Burn Her They Said, The Anomalies of Ampara Deicra #1, fantasy-romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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Burn Her They Said
Cherish Wright
(The Anomalies of Ampara Deicra, #1)
Publication date: June 26th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance
In a land where Dragons are revered like Gods, a witch and her guards must risk it all.
Witches in Ampara Deicra are required to use their powers of emotional influence to benefit sorcerers. None so much as Tasch—a witch born during the Anomaly, when environmental changes caused her magic to develop unmatched abilities.
Taken by the Emperor to manage his mood, she has served by his side since early childhood. Granted the title of Imperial Grand Witch, she is protected by the strongest sorcerers in each form of magic—all Anomalies, like her—with powers beyond any before or after them.
Until a sorcerer named Varic develops abilities surpassing Tasch’s Lead Guard. A fact which the Emperor denies by hiding Varic within the Imperial Army.
Where Varic is made to grow his strength past the point he can contain it, and requires Tasch’s magic to overcome the grief of his magic causing the worst known catastrophe. They fall in love in their time together—and forge a connection which is highly forbidden.
Over time Tasch’s powers fade, rather than strengthen, while the Emperor’s greed escalates the need for resources among bordering lands, who increase their attacks on the Imperial Palace. Fearing the worst, Emperor Aldritch assigns Varic to oversee Tasch’s detail, placing the two beings who must hide their feelings mere inches from each other.
With the highest stakes they’ve ever encountered, can Tasch’s Guards save her and the citizens, with the help of their bonded Dragons?
For fans of Anathema, Dragonfall, and A Discovery of Witches comes the tale of a burnt-out witch in her thirties who is trying to survive long enough to save the citizens from their power-hungry Emperor, with the help of her Guards and the Dragons they share a bond.
Denise Devine is here to tell us about The Nightingale Detective Agency, a Charlotte Van Elsberg Mystery book 1 - a 1920s historical cozy mystery.
There's also a great giveaway.
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In 1926 St. Paul, a determined female private investigator
uncovers deadly secrets behind a debutante’s suspicious death in this twisty
Prohibition-era cozy mystery.
The Nightingale
Detective Agency
A Charlotte Van Elsberg Mystery Book 1
by Denise Devine
Genre: 1920’s Historical Cozy Mystery
St. Paul,
1926—where ambition comes at a cost, especially for a woman.
Charlotte Van Elsberg is determined to become the city’s first female private
investigator and help women in need. She’s already landed her first case: a
grieving mother who wants answers about her daughter, Eleanor Kimball, a
debutante killed in a suspicious car crash. Was it truly an accident or
something more sinister? Char intends to find out. There’s just one
hitch—Char’s husband.
Will Van Elsberg, a seasoned investigator, knows the job too well. It’s no
profession for a petite young lady, and he’s not about to let his wife charge
headfirst into danger. Char has other ideas. She agrees to hire bodyguards to
satisfy his objections.
However, despite the addition of her “new team,” she soon learns that this job
is a lot harder than it appears. Doors slam in her face, alibis don’t add up,
and everyone appears to be hiding something. Does she have the grit
and determination it takes to solve this case?
The more she digs into Eleanor’s carefully polished life, the more she uncovers
the young woman’s secrets. Hidden truths that someone is desperate to keep
buried. Evidence worth killing for. Now that Char is asking questions, who is
determined to stop her from revealing the missing pieces?
If you love Prohibition-era intrigue
and twisty whodunits, dive into this 1920s cozy mystery filled with clever
clues, hidden secrets, and a bold female sleuth. Grab your copy today and start
sleuthing!
“Last night went well,” Will
said, commenting on my new bodyguards the next morning as we lingered over
strong black coffee in the breakfast room. Golden sunlight filtered through the
tall windows from the sun streaming between the mature oaks on the edge of our
property. “Sean and Alice seemed to get along fine. What do you think?”
Sean’s manners had come across as
overly polite compared to his outburst in the den and I suspected that he was
playing to an audience of one. The real test would come when Alice was alone
with him. Would he be respectful or try to boss her around? I had my doubts
about the former.
“I think I need to let them two
sort it out and get going on my investigation,” I replied staring into my glass
of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “The truth is, I don’t know where to start.”
“Get to know your victim,” Will
offered. “Learn everything you can about her—where she lived, her friends and
relatives, the places she liked to frequent. The information will provide
valuable clues about her life and possibly reveal why she was killed.”
Will set down his cup and leaned
back as Gerard approached the table and placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon
and toast in front of him. Will looked at me curiously. “You said she was
engaged?” He paused to grab a bottle of Heinz Tomato Ketchup.
From the corner of my eye, I
caught Gerard wincing at the idea of smothering one’s eggs with that vile
concoction. I agreed but kept my opinion to myself. Will loved ketchup,
especially this brand, and poured it on his breakfast nearly every morning.
“Take a good look at her fiancé,”
Will said seriously. He shook the bottle, poring ketchup all over his eggs and
filling the air with a pungent tomato aroma. “In my experience, when you’re
investigating the murder of a woman, the guilty party is quite often someone
close to the victim. That doesn’t make the fiancé automatically guilty, but it
does make him a primary suspect until your investigation proves otherwise.”
“Okay,” I said, jotting down his
instructions in my journal as Gerard set a plate of poached eggs and toast in
front of me. Interviewing everyone who knew the deceased would be a huge
undertaking. Was I up to the task? More importantly, would I gain anything
useful from it? The thought exhausted me, and I hadn’t started yet.
“Go back to the scene of the
crime,” Will continued and scooped up a forkful of eggs. “Study it, leaving no
stone unturned. No detail is too small. Sometimes I find evidence that the
police missed.”
I picked up a slice of toast and
concentrated on smothering it with Welch’s Grape Jelly to avoid watching Will
eat his red eggs. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Read the autopsy report,” he
added as he picked up a crisp piece of bacon with his fingers. “The family
might have requested their private physician to look it over and interpret it
for them but unless they knew medical terms they wouldn’t have a copy of it
themselves. You need to grease a palm or two at the coroner’s office to obtain
a look at it.”
Oh sure, I’ll just drive to
downtown Minneapolis and find someone in the coroner’s office to give me a
look-see at that report.
I let out a sigh and took a bite
of my toast, pondering how I would actually go about getting someone in the
coroner’s office to give me access to the report, much less interpret it for
me. I had no idea. “Do I need to read the autopsy report? Is it imperative to
my case?”
“It’s another piece of the
puzzle, darling,” Will said, his voice softening at my frustration. “If the
police ruled her death an accident, the family would want to know if she’d
suffered a medical issue at the time, causing her to lose control of the car.
If there is a report, you should find out what’s in it.”
Folding
my arms, I sat back and stared at him as discouragement began to seep into my
mood. Had I made a mistake wanting to become an investigator? The job was
clearly more than I’d bargained for.
Denise Devine is a USA Today bestselling author
who has had a passion for books since the second grade when she discovered
Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. She wrote her first book,
a mystery, at age thirteen and has been writing ever since. She loves all
animals, especially dogs, cats, and horses, and they often find their way into
her books.
She has written twenty-two books, including books
in the Beach Brides series, Moonshine Madness series, and West Loon Bay series.
Her books have hit the Top 100 Bestseller list on Amazon and she has been
listed on Amazon’s Top 100 Authors.
Claire Fuge is here to tell us about The Siren's Daughter, historical.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Siren’s Daughter
Claire Fuge
Publication date: June 28th 2026
Genres: Historical
1126. The Norman conquest grips Wales. Rebellion stirs. And one woman’s choice could ignite it all.
Nineteen-year-old Angharad, the daughter of a Norman knight and a captive Welsh princess, arrives at Aberteifi Castle for her mother’s arranged marriage. But her new stepfather, the merciless Norman commander of the castle, has other plans. He demands that Angharad expose her mother, Nesta, as a secret rebel or be cast out to die.
To survive, Angharad presses Nesta to reveal the truth about her past: as a Welsh princess stolen by invaders, the victim of wars and betrayals, the seductress of kings and princes. As Nesta’s story unfolds, Angharad discovers a legacy more dangerous than she could have imagined, and must decide whether to protect her mother or herself…
In 1066, Duke Guillaume of Normandy, known to the English as William the Conqueror, won the Battle of Hastings and was crowned King of England.
In 1087, the Norman barons began their invasion of Wales.
By 1126, after countless deaths amongst the thorn-infested hills, swamps, and forests, the Normans had managed to subdue all five Welsh kingdoms. More or less.
Chapter 1. HOMECOMING
All Hallows’ Eve, 1126. West Wales
When the castle loomed out of the hailstorm above her, Angharad was careful not to crane her head upwards in awe as her Norman guards did. Her mother had commanded her to uphold her dignity, no matter what, so she kept her back straight and sat rigid in her saddle. Although the steepness of the hill made her feel as if spikes of ice were being hurled down at her by the castle itself, she didn’t cower. She pretended not to hear the guards cursing about having to drag a pair of heathen women out of the Welsh wildlands. She alone would be her mother’s last, unfailing support.
Angharad’s mother, Nesta, rode alongside, her imperious glare fixed on the track ahead, ignoring the water that streamed from her claw-black hair onto her horse’s flank. Even dressed in threadbare travelling clothes, Nesta didn’t look like the prisoner she was, finally recaptured by the Normans after three years of threats, bribes, and attempted ambushes. She didn’t look like a new bride either, although she was bound to marry the Constable of the castle; the contract had been sealed. No. What Nesta looked like, in the arrogant line of her jaw, in the resolute set of her flawless face, was what she was born to be.
Royalty.
During her nineteen years of life, Angharad had been reminded daily that her mother was the last living princess of Deheubarth, once the most renowned of the Welsh kingdoms. Angharad’s bloodline was the only wealth she possessed; she must look the part.
‘Amongst wolves,’ Nesta had said – and many wolves lived in the cloud-draped forests of these lands – ‘you can tell the leader of the pack from the way he draws every eye towards him. My father looked like a king from two arrowshots away, even when he was wounded from the endless wars, even when he was starving and freezing and caked in mud. Whatever fate we meet in this castle, I refuse to grovel before them. Hold your head high, Angharad. We must not disgrace the memory of our glorious ancestors.’
Luckily, deception was one of Angharad’s talents: Nesta had trained her in it since she was a child. Angharad had the skill of appearing haughty whilst at her most powerless.
When Nesta dismounted on the crest of the hill, Angharad copied, stifling a wince at the cramp in her thighs. Sixty miles they had travelled from the open meadows where they had spent their years of sanctuary amongst the Welsh: a journey of three days and nights, riding and walking through a wasteland of swamps and brambles, the Norman guards watchful behind them, bloodhounds running at their flanks to warn them of rebels and outlaws, with every hamlet full of hostile eyes and nothing to buy and almost nothing to steal. But here they were, at last.
Author Bio:
Claire Fuge writes historical fiction inspired by medieval Wales, the Tewdwr family and the women whose lives were shaped by conquest, loyalty and survival. Her work explores the spaces where history leaves silence, and where storytelling can bring forgotten voices back to life.
R.S. Kellogg is here to tell us about The Sea Queen's Key, fantasy.
There's also a great giveaway.
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The Sea Queen’s Key
R.S. Kellogg
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
At eighteen, Mira is one of the last humans in Breadcove Bay with formal training in Fire and Heat magic outside the faculty of Borealis University. Masitro has already lost a string of talented fire‑workers to failed confrontations with Shora, the Ice Queen, whose sightings creep closer to the city every month.
Mira just wants to get home for winter break.
The politics of a rogue ice queen and a missing mermaid queen get in the way.
• Cozy fantasy with higher stakes
• Fairytale retellings with no romance, but all the emotions!
• Stories where asking the right questions matters more than force…
Then Welcome to the Sea Queen’s Key!
—
Author Bio:
R.S. Kellogg writes the Everyday Goddess Stories, the Mermaid Magic Tales, and fiction in the story realms of Breadcove Bay and Agratica, among other places.
Sharon C. Cooper is here to tell us about Waiting for You, Priestly Family Series book 5, a contemporary second chance romance.
There's also a great giveaway.
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They say friends make the best lovers...
Waiting For You
Priestly Family Series Book 5
by Sharon C. Cooper
Genre: Contemporary Second Chance Romance
They say friends make the best lovers...
After a bitter divorce, Jackson Norwood never thought he’d fall in love again.
Especially not with his best friend, Essence Priestly. His attraction to her is
the most powerful thing he's felt in a long time, and he doesn't just want her
as a lover. He wants her to be his wife. Yet she’s determined to keep their
relationship strictly platonic.
Jackson means everything to Essence and her son, and she’s torn between her
love for him and the fear of ruining their years of friendship. But after an
impulsive, passionate weekend together, she can’t deny their chemistry is off
the charts. Jackson woke up the part of her she thought died years ago, and
Essence is tempted to let him have what he wants—her.
But drama from his ex-wife is enough to challenge the strongest connection.
Will Essence and Jackson’s reinvented relationship buckle under the pressure?
Or will their bond grow stronger and lead them to their happily-ever-after?
“Nyla asked if I’d be willing to
share a room with you. I told her it was fine and assumed the two of you had
already talked about it. She even had my overnight bag delivered there.”
“I’m going to kill my sisters. All
of them,” Essence said through gritted teeth, attitude dangling from each word
before she turned narrowed eyes on him. “You know what they’re trying to do,
don’t you? You have to know.”
It took everything within Jackson
not to smile because she was adorable when she was mad. Which he didn’t witness
often. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, earning him a
deeper glare.
Okay, maybe he knew now, but not at
first. He hadn’t thought much of it when Nyla told him of the change because it
wasn’t unusual for him and Essence to share a room. But now that he knew her
sisters might be trying to push them together, Jackson was totally onboard with
their scheming. They all knew how much he adored Essence and how close they
were, but they also knew Essence was afraid to move out of the friend zone. It
would be just like them to butt in.
He and Essence exited the elevator,
and Jackson followed a few steps behind her as she practically stomped down the
hallway to their room. She might’ve been pissed, and he probably should be
thinking about how he was going to get her to lighten up, but damn her ass
looked good in that dress. Watching her shapely hips sway back and forth
rhythmically made his body stir in response. Hell, if he could get her to calm
down, maybe they could have some fun tonight. It was a new year. A perfect time
to start a new chapter in their story. And a little rendezvous in a luxury
hotel would only add to the fun.
As if she could hear his thoughts,
Essence glanced over her shoulder at him without missing a step. If eyes could
shoot invisible daggers, she was definitely shooting them at him, and he felt
them square in the chest.
So much for living out a few
fantasies tonight. Clearly, the hotel room would be for sleeping only.
Normally, Essence was sweet, kind,
and would do anything for anyone. She also had a good sense of humor and took
her family’s antics in stride. She didn’t usually trip over stuff like this,
especially since she and he often shared a hotel room. The two of them, and
sometimes Tray, vacationed together more often than not. Staying in the same
room was a norm. So, it was out of character to see her this pissed.
Essence already had her keycard out
when she stopped in front of their hotel room door. Seconds later, she stormed
inside the room. She didn’t seem to care if he followed her in or not.
Jackson sighed, catching the door
before it slammed in his face. This was going to be a long night. He didn’t
want to argue, and Essence had every right to be mad—just not at him. She was
probably looking forward to relaxing in a beautiful hotel room after a long
day. Hell, a couple of long weeks, and here he was crashing any solitude she
thought she’d get.
Or maybe she was mad because she
had planned to invite that punk ass Romero to the room after the reception.
That thought had Jackson wanting to
question her about the guy. Had their relationship moved up from just casual
dating? Instead of asking, he kept his mouth shut. She was angry at her
sisters, and he didn’t need her to take it out on him. He didn’t have siblings,
but he’d been around hers enough to know they all drove each other nuts
sometimes.
“Oh, and if you think we’re
sleeping in the same bed, think again,” Essence snapped, tossing his duffel
bag, which had been on the edge of the king size bed, to the sofa.
Jackson yawned, then slid out of
his tuxedo jacket and laid it across the arm of the sofa. Next went the bowtie.
“Essence, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I do know one thing. I’m
not sleeping on the sofa.”
USA Today
bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a
happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes
contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys
rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won
numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her
Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award
(2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing
husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To
read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her
latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net
Thomas Grant Bruso is here to tell us about The Dead Hour, LGBT paranormal horror.
There's also a great giveaway.
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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by >Goddess Fish Promotions. Thomas Grant Bruso will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
PI Bradshaw receives a late night call from a client desperate to find her missing daughter. The woman asks to meet him at a storage unit in upstate New York. The woman hangs up before Bradshaw can inquire further. Woken by the jarring news, Bradshaw decides to meet the frantic, mysterious woman pleading for his help.
Working as a private investigator has its drawbacks. Bradshaw often receives prank calls from clients with run-of-the-mill requests and chooses his cases wisely. But there is something unusual and unnerving about this particular call. The hopeless plea in the woman’s voice and the anonymity of her demand ignite a maelstrom of questions.
While Bradshaw decides whether the call is worth pursuing, a young dead girl from the Other Side visits him, demanding attention and seeking help for the request he just received. Who is this spirit? What does she want? And how is she linked to the caller?
Read an Excerpt
Thunder cleaved the sky, pulling me out of my foggy dream.
In the glass, a flash of white light and a dash of movement scurried past my periphery.
I shuddered at the pale flesh of a disfigured face sneering at me.
I turned.
Nothing -- a line of locked unit doors.
Then footsteps, sprinting away, and a gaggle of laughter from around the corner, along the corridor.
“Hello?” I yelled, chasing another phantom. My legs felt like rubber bands as I dashed to the end of the long hall. I stopped at the stairwell door, out of breath.
The sound footsteps seized. But intoxicating laughter followed.
“Who’s there?” I yelled. “This isn’t funny.”
A mockery of demonic laughter filled the air and cooled my skin.
I stepped back, drew a breath.
Behind me, one of the two elevators dinged. The doors opened.
Curiosity consumed me.
I should not have turned around to the sound.
The lights went out when I did, plunging me into complete darkness.
Up ahead, the exit signs flickered.
I reached into my coat pocket and gripped the small bottle of mace I carried with me when working cases. My heart thrashed behind my ribs, like a pack of hungry rats gnawing through the lining of muscles, tendons, and intestines.
A coldness coiled in the space behind me. A round of knuckles tapped against my head, and the sound of teeth clicked close to my ear. I ran toward the elevator doors. They closed before I reached it.
I banged hard on the doors and pressed the down button several times.
In the dim light of the corridor, I noticed shadowy movement from something skittering across the wall, a chittering screech of insectile legs rushing at me in the dark.
I raced a few feet to the left of the elevators to the stairwell door.
Locked.
About the Author: Thomas Grant Bruso knew he wanted to be a writer at an early age. He has been a voracious reader of genre fiction since childhood.
His literary inspirations are Ray Bradbury, Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Jim Grimsley, Karin Fossum, and Joyce Carol Oates.
Bruso loves animals, reading books, and writing fiction, and prefers Sudoku to crossword puzzles.
In another life, he was a freelance writer and wrote for magazines and newspapers. In college, he won the Hermon H. Doh Sonnet Competition. Now, he writes and publishes fiction and reviews books for his hometown newspaper, The Press-Republican.
Bill Markley is here to tell us about The Life and Times of Jim Bridger, US Western history, mountain man, fur trade, exploration, American Indians.
There's also a great giveaway.
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US Western History/Jim Bridger, mountain man, fur trade, exploration,
American Indians
Date Published: 08-08-2025
Publisher: Farcountry Press
The Life and Times of Jim Bridger, a new biography by Bill Markley, is a
well-researched work that brings to life the story of Jim Bridger, the
legendary mountain man, fur trapper, and explorer who played a key role in
shaping the American West. From guiding scientific expeditions to pioneering
vital emigrant routes like the Overland and Bridger Trails, Jim
Bridger’s name is etched into the very landscape of the American
frontier. Bridger’s contributions helped lead to the establishment of
Yellowstone National Park, the first national park in the world. His life was
filled with encounters with Native American tribes, fur traders, U.S. Army
officers, and remarkable adventures across the wild West.
Reviews for The Life and Times of Jim Bridger
Bill Markley has established an enviable reputation as a western biographer.
His excellent new biography of Jim Bridger will only augment his status.
Crisply written and carefully researched this biography of the greatest of the
mountain men will both captivate and inform readers for years to
come. --Paul Hutton, author of The Undiscovered Country
Bill Markley has done it again with THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JIM BRIDGER. The
mythic mountain man comes to life in Markley's biography and by the end you
will be ready to go West and discover for yourself the West of Jim
Bridger. --Stuart Rosebrook, editor-at-large, TRUE WEST magazine
Well researched and well told, Markley gives us a fresh look at one of the
giants of the American West. I believe he has captured the man and his
essence. —Bob Boze Bell, executive editor True West magazine
Bill Markley’s The Life and Times of Jim Bridger vividly captures the
adventures of a legendary mountain man whose courage, ingenuity, and deep
connection to the American West shaped a nation’s frontier. From fur
trapping to guiding emigrants, Bridger’s story is a testament to
resilience and cultural fluency, brought to life with meticulous research and
engaging prose. -- Jon Nelson, Board Director for the Museum of the
Fur Trade, Chadron, Nebraska
When the tall, genial Virginian Jim Bridger ventured West as a
“green” teenager in the early years of the fur trade, no one
predicted that he would become known as the legendary “old man of the
mountains." Packing his life with enough adventure for at least ten
mountain men, Bridger led beaver-trapping brigades, hunted buffalo, fought
hostile Blackfeet, married a Shoshone woman, mapped trackless wilderness,
guided the U.S. Army during Red Cloud’s War, and more. Although
illiterate, he spoke several European—and Indian—languages.
Did Bridger really leave the grizzly-mauled Hugh Glass to die alone?
Markley delves deep into his subject’s extraordinary life. Wonderfully
illustrated with period maps and artwork, this book is for anyone who loves
true tales of the raucous fur trading era of the early nineteenth century.
Bridger once said, “Sir, the grace of God won’t carry a man
through these prairies! It takes powder and ball.” And
how. –Nancy Plain, four-time Spur Award winner, past
president of Western Writers of America.
Excerpt
Final Thoughts
During my two-year research of Jim Bridger, my respect for him
has grown. He accepted all people, no matter who they were. Only when
they turned on him would he treat them as enemies. He tried to stay out of
fights, but if one was unavoidable, he was in the forefront.
It’s a shame—and our loss—that he didn’t learn to read
and write. He was
intelligent, creating accurate maps from memory. He learned English, French,
Spanish, a variety of Indian languages, and was proficient in sign language.
After people read Shakespeare to him, he would quote passages from memory.
As to the Hugh Glass story, I believe Bridger was not the teenager who
deserted Glass. Historians have pointed to Bridger because of an 1839 article
that gave the young man’s last name as “Bridges,” based on
old riverboat pilot
Joseph LaBarge’s recollection, and tradition had it on the Missouri that
it was
Bridger. That’s it. When Alfred Jacob Miller sat around a mountaineer
fire
and jotted down the Hugh Glass story during the 1837 rendezvous, the first
name of the person Glass confronted was Bill. If Bridger had been the young
man who deserted Glass, I believe other mountaineers would have ribbed him
about it.
As to Bridger selling Fort Bridger to the Mormons, I don’t believe he
sold
it. He was an honest man, and to his dying day, he never said he sold it,
continuing to
attempt to collect his rental payment from the federal government.
Bridger’s descriptions of the Yellowstone geothermal region to
expedition
leaders and scientists led to its eventual exploration in 1871 by one of those
scientists,
Ferdinand Hayden. The following year, Congress designated it the
world’s first national park.
Jim Bridger was loved by many people, from children to generals. He was
well liked by many tribes. Most of his adversaries respected him. He enjoyed
nothing better than to be out in nature, preferring to sleep under the stars
than
in a tent. It would have been great fun to sit at a campfire and listen
to him tell
of his exploits and tall tales. He was a man in love with the West.
Toward the end of his life, Jim Bridger said, “I wish I was back there
among
the mountains again—you can see so much farther in that
country.”
About the Author
Bill Markley, member of Western Writers of America and multiple winner of the
Will Rogers Medallion award, has written eleven books including biographies
and histories of Old West characters and events. He writes for True West and
Wild West magazines and is a staff writer for Roundup magazine.
