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Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Loving The Book Presents: #Christmas #Countdown 2020; #NowAvailable, #OutNow, #TBR, #Live, #Giveaway

My name is Robyn Echols. Zina Abbott is the pen name I use for my American historical romance novels. I’m a member of Women Writing the West and Western Writers of America, and American Night Writers Association. I currently live with my husband in California’s central valley near the “Gateway to Yosemite.”
I love to read, quilt, work with digital images on my photo editing program, and work on my own family history.
I am a blogger. In addition to my own blog, I blog for several group blogs including the Sweet Americana Sweethearts blog, which I started and administer.

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The gift of peace of spirit that comes from restitution.

A year after Luke McDaniels broke away from the control of two eastern Sierra Nevada Mountain outlaws and freed Ling Loi from the Chinese brothel in Lundy, one aspect of their escape still plagues his conscience. Even though he made a point to take only what was owed him, and he left sufficient funds to cover the cost of anything he took from others without the owners’ knowledge or consent, there had been one exception. The second horse he planned to “buy” to assure a successful early winter journey was snatched away before his gaze. Another was left in its place. The ten gold half-eagles he allowed was less than the value of the one available to him. He hated short-changing the owner, but Loi, who took on the name of Joy when they married, had been his first priority.
Joy, grateful she has been restored to the way of decency, senses that Luke needs his own restoration. Can she convince him to do what he must to enjoy peace at Christmas? 



Hank narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin in the direction of the man retreating toward the trees. “I’ve seen him before. It’s been a good year or better, but he stayed at the ranch one night. You and Val were gone on business. Frankie and I found him wandering around the north part of the property and invited him to join us for supper and to spend the night in the bunkhouse. He mucked out the barn in exchange for feed for his horse.”

His eyebrows raised, Luther stared at his friend. “You let someone part-Indian stay in the bunkhouse? How did the rest of men take it?”

Hank met Luther’s gaze and shook his head. “He was dressed as a white man. I can see the Indian in him now, but last year, none of us ever guessed.” He squinted at the retreating man. He jabbed his pointer finger. “One thing I do recognize is that tomahawk hanging from his belt. He told us he bought it off an Indian. Now, I wonder what the real story is.”


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