This takes place at a USO dance in Long Binh, Vietnam. Libby suspects she’s being hunted…and she’s right. :)

She turned and there he was. The song kicked over and captured her current situation in spades with the lines from Sam the Sham and the Pharohs’ Lil’ Red Ridin’ Hood. If she could remember how, she’d laugh at the irony.

She’d only seen him for a few minutes on an airfield, and he looked like he’d swallowed sour grapes when she smiled at him, but here he was, his six-foot four frame parting the crowd swifter than Moses ever parted the Red Sea. He didn’t look particularly happy to see her. No, he looked…hungry. Every part of her being reacted. Her stomach tightened, and her skin heated to a temperature she was sure wasn’t healthy. Her heart thundered like incoming missiles, and she had the irrational need to rip off her clothes and rid her now oversensitive skinof the scratchy, heavy material.

Lord, his eyes glowed an almost feral yellow and pinned her to her spot, challenging her to run at the same time his smile said he’d be thrilled with the hunt if she did. Unlike the squared away sailors, his midnight black hair ran to shaggy and unkempt. An olive green t-shirt and jacket stretched over sinewy muscle, but instead of camo bottoms black Levi’s hugged muscled thighs.

He wasn’t going to ask her to dance.

She ran her tongue over parched lips, and with a grunt, he was there, his mouth hot and hungry over hers, devouring her. Oh God, it was so good. When strong fingers dug into her bottom and brought her flush against him, she felt him hard and ready. Libby roped her arms around his neck and held on tight. His tongue swept her bottom lip, and she opened for him, moaning when his tongue tangled with hers in a slow, easy manner. He tasted of cigar, whiskey and the awful punch they served, but somehow, mixed with his unique flavor it was nectar of the gods.

In the humid heat surrounding them, she heard raised voices demanding this man let her go. When his lips parted from hers she whispered, “Don’t let me go.”

With a smile that said he owned her, he claimed her mouth again and dug those fingers deeper into the soft flesh of her buttocks until she was sure she’d be branded inside and out.

She’d let a few boys kiss her and even fewer touch her like this, but she’d never surrendered herself to any man. Never wanted to until right now when she ached for this man to fill her and take what was his.

Then, with a jolt, he was ripped from her. “Fuck! Knock it off, Cowboy.”

“Get your goddamn hands off me, Hunter, or lose ‘em.”

The other man, dressed similar to her SEAL, raised his hands in surrender. “It’s your ass, Cowboy. Here comes the Captain.”

The mist lifted from Libby’s mind and her senses returned one by one. She pressed two fingers to her swollen lips, his taste still filling her mouth. Her gaze swung from one man to the next and then rested on the one called Cowboy as she tugged hem of her mini-dress in place.

She opened her mouth, but shut it when he turned eyes now settled to a shade like warm caramel on her. “Your name?”

There was urgency in his question and she gazed behind him to see an older man plowing through the crowd toward them. She grabbed his hand in hers like she could anchor him there. “Libby.”


“Libby Boden.”

With a sharp nod, he pressed his lips hard against hers and held her forehead against his. “Jack Kerr. And I’m gonna finish this someday, Libby Boden.”

Copyright © 2015 Kirsten Lynn
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.



A new breed of warrior…
LTJG Jack “Cowboy” Kerr doesn’t know crap about corn and cattle. But put him in a fire fight and he’ll clean-up like Wyatt Earp on the streets of Tombstone. An elite warrior unleashed on the mangroves and rice paddies of Vietnam, he and his men are common men with an uncommon desire to succeed. It’s not long before the name given to them by the Vietnamese, Men with Green Faces, strikes fear in the enemy and hope to allies. His life is the Navy…his family are the brother SEALs on his left and right. He’s the ultimate hunter/operator. But Jack never thought stealing a kiss from a USO girl would change his life and turn him from hunter to hunted.

An old soul and tender heart…
Libby Boden is a Wyoming cowgirl born and bred. Her determination to serve her country and to follow her cousins and brother leads her to Vietnam. She’ll do anything to stay in-country, as part of the USO, to be close to her loved ones and the SEAL who stole a kiss and her heart. When tragedy strikes separating her from her Frogman, Libby will use all the lessons learned at the feet of her grandparents, Kyle and Lena Allaway, to hunt him down and show him the Navy forgot to issue him one essential…her.

Across three continents……In a world gone crazy these two might find all they need is the air they breathe and each other…




AirIBreathe300A new breed of warrior…
LTJG Jack “Cowboy” Kerr doesn’t know crap about corn and cattle. But put him in a fire fight and he’ll clean-up like Wyatt Earp on the streets of Tombstone. An elite warrior unleashed on the mangroves and rice paddies of Vietnam, he and his men are common men with an uncommon desire to succeed, and it’s not long before the name given to them by the Vietnamese, Men with Green Faces, strikes fear in the enemy and hope to allies. His life is the Navy…his family are the brother SEALs on his left and right. He’s the ultimate hunter/operator. But Jack never thought stealing a kiss from a USO girl would change his life and turn him from hunter to hunted.
An old soul and tender heart…
Libby Boden is a Wyoming cowgirl born and bred. Her determination to serve her country however she can, and to follow her cousins and brother leads her to Vietnam. She’ll do anything to stay in-country, as part of the USO then Red Cross, and close to her loved ones and the SEAL who stole a kiss and her heart. When tragedy strikes separating her from her Frogman, Libby will use all the lessons learned at the feet of her grandparents, Kyle and Lena Allaway, to hunt him down and show him the Navy forgot to issue him one essential…her.
From Vietnam to Wyoming to Little Creek, Virginia…In a world gone crazy these two might find all they need is the air they breathe and each other…


Friday, I attended a family reunion. As always when our family gets together the stories fly, some get a bit more interesting as time goes by. I also have the funniest cousins and one kept us in stitches and tears of laughter rolling down our face all evening. This time together reminded me of why I wanted to start a series about a Wyoming family, living, struggling, thriving, and surviving hardships all while holding tight to each other.

Last week was the release of RIDIN’ FOR A FALL. Lena and Kyle have been with me for many years and I finally decided to share them and their loud, big, wonderful family with the world.
RIDIN’ is fiction, but Lena Gowan was inspired by my great-grandmother Lena Boden. You will read (hopefully) Lena Gowan’s story, so let’s look at the life of the real Lena.
My great-grandmother and her brother Morton were trick riders and even rode in the Oklahoma Land Rush. Lena married and after having six children who survived and one who died before the first year, her husband abandoned her. She raised her children and worked as a teacher in one room school houses in Wyoming.
I never met, Lena, but I have heard stories about her from my grandmother, dad and aunts. She was short with dark hair and blue eyes with an Irish temper and stubborn streak. A word that always emerges in the telling is “tough.” She had to be. In many of the schools, she had to get there early to light a fire in the stove, or her children were sent ahead to see this done. Also, it was her responsibility to see the school children received a hot meal for lunch. She had to see to it she and her children survived.
In RIDIN’, I gave Lena Gowan a better man, a secure life on a Wyoming ranch and all the things my great-grandmother didn’t have, but I made her tough enough to take the blows landed on her just like Lena Boden.
Another character in RIDIN’ is Alt Boden. Alt was fashioned after my great-grandmother’s brother. In fact, I used the name he used in “show business.” Morton Boden went on to become a Rough Rider in Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Show. According to my grandmother he was quite a character and always admitted his sister could outride him. He did have one vice and that was stealing silverware from some of the better establishments throughout the U.S. and Europe. It was said he even had some from Buckingham Palace. I included this trait in the story.
Things didn’t end well for Morton and his silver, however. At one time when he was in Florida, his car was stolen. He couldn’t report the theft because his ill-gotten silverware was in the trunk…so there went his fortune in silver.


Alt Boden (a name Morton went by in the show) is to the right of Bill Cody with the dark mustache and hair.

Kyle and the other characters are based on cowboys and individuals I’ve known growing up and living in Wyoming.
I hope you’ll give RIDIN’ a try. Kyle and Lena are the rock that will anchor their family through decades, but first they’ll have to find their HEA. In every story in both A&G series a part of my heart is imbedded. I had a hard time sharing the Allaways and Bodens, but I look forward to hearing from you all regarding their stories.
Leave a comment for a chance to win an e-book copy of RIDIN’ FOR A FALL! I will be drawing a name from the hat on Tuesday morning!

He’s the All American Cowboy…

Kyle Allaway is riding tall as one-half of the greatest act in Frank Perry’s Wild West Show. He’s his own man far from Big Horn, Wyoming and the family who betrayed him driving him from his fondest dream…well at least one of his dreams…

She’s the Sweetheart of the West…

Lena Gowan is barely holding onto the reins. Tired of constant travel, the applause of the crowd means nothing to her. She longs to return to the ranch co-owned by the Gowan and Allaway families. To leave Kyle would mean walking away from her dearest friend and heart’s desire.

Together they’ve been a team since childhood…

When a surprise lands in Kyle’s arms, he’s forced to become two things he swore he’d never be… a father to a child born outside of marriage and Lena’s husband. His world continues to tumble when he takes his new family to the one place he both loves and hates … the A&G Ranch. As the world erupts in the Great War, the Allaways and Gowans face a battle years in the making. Kyle and Lena must hold tight to each other and fight internal questions and doubts and external forces seeking their destruction, or risk a fall that will knock them out of the saddle for good.

Sometimes the safest place to fall…is in love…



Thanks for stopping by!
Kirsten Lynn


Now available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and Smashwords!

Join Jake and Ellie on a wild ride!

Outlaw Jake Avery is handed an ultimatum–hang for his crimes, or become the new Sheriff of Sheridan, Wyoming. When he chooses the life of a lawman, he doesn’t expect a local widow woman to tangle with his emotions.

Ellie Reed needs Sheridan’s new sheriff to help her rob a train, and recover her late husband’s treasured property. She doesn’t expect the outlaw-turned-sheriff to steal her heart, as well.

As the train barrels through Wyoming, Jake and Ellie plan a robbery to avenge the past. But can they heist a future together?


Ellie shifted on the hard seat of the ladderback chair and stiffened her spine. She laced her fingers together and squeezed one hand with the other to keep from landing a blow to the good Sheriff Jake Avery’s face. His large hands gripped the front of his desk as the waves of his laughter slapped against her. He’d blinked twice at her proposition to rob a train, and then… this…laughter, so deep his tight stomach rolled and teardrops rested on long dark–blond eyelashes. He even snorted a couple times.

Refusing to let the insult of his laughter humble her, Ellie never allowed her gaze drop to her lap or shift from his face. If he thought her insane, he had cause—she’d give him that much. Over the past week, she’d called on Jake for everything from a cat stuck in a tree, one she’d chased up that tree, to a broken fence she said her neighbor cut allowing her cattle to scatter. Jake spent all day and well into the night helping her round up the cattle she’d let lose by cutting her own fence. These were just two of the awful things she’d done, all to test Jake’s patience, endurance and trustworthiness. And he’d passed.

Oh, she’d noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the looks toward the heavens, and clenched fists. But Jake was a man who saw a job through, no matter how frustrating or distasteful. She’d also been introduced to how quick he could open a safe without the combination when she “forgot” the combination to her husband’s safe. And through a series of other mishaps, she’d been schooled in his skill with armaments of any variation. She’d heard the stories, now she knew the man. So, if he wanted to play the buffoon and howl with laughter for a few moments at her expense she’d allow it…this time.

But Lordy, she wished he’d be quick about it, she was about to melt in a pool of blue satin from all the clothes she was layered in, from bloomers, to corset, to the indigo dress she’d worn with the infernal feather hat to match. It was a dress her late husband brought back to her from his last trip to Australia. Jim saw her in it once when he took her out to a celebratory supper. He’d fallen ill the next day, and the dress was hidden in mothballs until she aired it out two days ago for her meeting this morning.

The pain in her left hand alerted her that memories were causing her to clamp down too hard. She cleared her throat in an effort to speed things along. The sheriff’s laughter died with a sputter as his gaze met hers and his right eyebrow hitched.

“You’re not laughin’?”

“Because it wasn’t a joke, Sheriff Avery. I want you to help me rob a train.”

Copyright Prairie Rose Publications, Kirsten Lynn, 2015

The Widow's Lawman


YAY!! Here’s the fabulous cover for my upcoming release HEARTS IN WINTER!

Hearts in Winter KirstenL Web-2

Christmas Eve, 1894…

The night Garrett McPherson finds his wife violated and murdered is the night he turns his back on his Wyoming ranch to become the most feared bounty hunter on either side of the Mississippi. But what keeps Garrett on the hunt for Elsie’s murderers and unable to come home is his sister-in-law, Jenny Westin. He’s never stopped loving her, and if it weren’t for his young son, Ethan, he might never return to the ranch again to keep from facing her and his feelings.

Jenny has never understood why Garrett threw her over for her sister, beautiful Elsie. When Jenny returns to Wyoming, a tense reunion at the train station for the two former lovers becomes a nightmare when they discover Elsie’s battered body upon their return to the ranch. Garrett vows to find Elsie’s murderers and avenge her death, and Jenny has no choice but to stay and care for Garrett’s son. For three years, she manages to live at the ranch raising Ethan, keeping her secrets and heartbreak hidden.

Another Christmas will bring Garrett back from his search for Elsie’s murderers to the Double M Ranch. Will this be the season for Jenny and Garrett to sort through the hurt and betrayal and face the truth of their love? The secrets of the past are the only key to unlock their HEARTS IN WINTER…



After his wife’s betrayal and years on the Western Front in Europe, Will Connor has lost his faith in humanity and has no use for love. He’s content in his bitterness. That is, until the holiday season brings him face to face with little Meggie Barrow. Meghan isn’t so little anymore, but she still looks at him like he lassoed the moon and set it in place. But what can a broken man who has lost his soul offer a beautiful young woman with more heart than anyone he’s ever met?

Meghan Barrow has loved William Connor since she was ten years old. She’s endured years of watching him marry a woman who didn’t love him, and more years of worrying about him when he leaves Wyoming to fight another country’s war. Now that the handsome cowboy is back, Meghan is determined to fill Will’s life with joy, and prove he’s all the man she needs.

With the help of friends and a Christmas stroll, these hearts might learn to walk through life together.

See MY BOOKS TAB for Buy Links!!



Little Creek Cow Camp, Bighorn Mountains, October, 1916
     A slow shiver ran up Hank’s spine causing cold sweat to chill his neck and forehead. His gaze held tight to the spot where he saw the woman. She was real. She had to be real. He jerked his gaze down the rough, uneven terrain he climbed after jumping from his horse and tearing after a blur of red hair and blue dress. He closed in on his quarry until, in a thick copse of pine, she vanished quicker than a plate of his mother’s doughnuts.
      Hank tugged up the collar on his wool plaid coat and tipped his hat down. Not even a damn track. He’d pawed the ground like a bull searching for tracks, but his efforts failed to reveal a toe print. He turned on his boot heel to run his gaze over the mountainside before he reached his mount. The buckskin gelding gave him the skunk eye, the brown gaze following Hank. His horse, questioning his sanity, itched Hank’s hide.
     Stepping across leather, Hank settled into the saddle and patted the buckskin’s neck.
     “Sorry there, boy. But didn’t you see her?”
     Chap whinnied and shook his head.
     Mrs. Baka, an elderly lady Hank helped out a bit who still held to a few of the gypsy ways of her people, once told him animals sensed spirits and things unseen by human eyes.
     “Either you missed that special trait, boy, or I’ve been up here too long with only you and cattle for company.”
     Hank reined Chap back to cow camp. The peace he usually found in these mountains eluded him as he made his way back to the small cabin serving as his summer home. The crunch of Chap’s hooves on dried leaves, pine needles and branches set his jaw to grinding as the noise he normally wouldn’t notice boomed inside him until he was sure his folks down in the valley heard them.
     Since Cal and Josie Renner adopted him thirteen years ago, Hank volunteered to be the rider left on the mountain to secure the cattle and make sure the bulls scattered to breed those heifers ready. Every June like clockwork Hank, Cal, Josie and his brothers, except the littlest one at only five, gathered the herd and moved ’em up a narrow trail to cow camp on a grazing allotment the J Bar A shared with other ranches.
     Then come September, Cal and the boys returned for the beef roundup. Pairs were separated from the yearling steers as ranchers worked together to earmark their beef. Hank breathed a bit better when they took the yearling steers down and headed for Parkman and he was alone again. He never begrudged his brothers and father the train ride to Omaha or Chicago to see the stock sold. As the only single Renner, Hank stayed put on the mountain while the others rotated which lucky couple got to head to the city—and which wife got a shopping trip and a few fancy dinners.
     He glanced back. Thank the good Lord, the family would be back in two weeks to help take the rest of the herd down before the October fifteenth cutoff to be off the mountain. All this being alone was causing him to create red–headed women in blue dresses.
     Aspen trees, dressed in gold leaves just a week ago, now stood bare and black against a sun fading into the west. Hank scrubbed a hand over his face and scratched the rough whiskers, more the start of a beard. How did a woman disappear quicker than summer in Wyoming? She was real. She had to be real.
     Hank shook his head and released thoughts of the woman into the frigid air. Real or not, she was gone and he had cows to check. Accustomed to the routine, the buckskin made his way to the herd. The chill in the air drove the cattle to huddle together and Hank made quick work of counting the pairs. When he came up three short, he reined his mount toward the tree line where black shadows shifted between the white trunks.
     He swung his gaze left and right. Even after confirming the shadows were his missing cows, he couldn’t unhook the feeling that eyes were on him. He’d felt eyes on him every summer, but had tossed it off to a rider from another ranch. This year, he couldn’t brush it off— because an alternative option had presented itself just an hour ago. Urging the three stragglers down to join their herd, Hank clicked his tongue and reined Chap toward a warm fire and some supper.
     A mule rummaged around in the corral next to his sorrel. Hank rode past the holding traps and sent his eyes toward heaven. A groan rumbled from deep in his gut. Smoke curled from the stovepipe of the small cabin he and Cal had built the previous summer. For the first time, it didn’t invite him to settle in for the night with a belly full of beans and a good book. He no more than got Chap combed and oats, and fresh hay to the horses kept at camp, when a rough voice had his head ducking farther into the collar of his coat.
     “Howdy, Hank boy. I took the liberty of gettin’ the beans on the fire.”
     Hank wavered between being grateful the fire was already burning and irritation that he’d have to share it. He wasn’t much on people. Oh, he loved his family and missed them right now, but give him a couple of weeks down at the ranch and he’d be riding off alone first chance he got. About the only person he could stand longer than most was his twin, Jerry; but for being born a few minutes apart, they couldn’t be more different. Jerry was a man about town and never met a stranger; where, it seemed a person remained a stranger to Hank for years after they met.
     His brothers all found girls the minute his stepmother Josie married Cal Renner, and Cal saw to it the family went to socials and the boys all went to school. Like dominos, each brother married—with the youngest, Mitch, being the first to marry. Each brother built a home on the ranch, and the brothers and their wives started having children almost as soon as the roof was put on the house.
Hank chose to go to the university in Laramie. After earning his degree, Hank wandered a bit, always finding his way back to the J Bar A. Two years ago, he planned to follow a family friend, Will Connor, to Europe and help the Brits fight against the Kaiser, but his Ma had raised the roof—so Hank stayed, but spent his time away from town and the busybodies asking why he wasn’t married and starting his family. His family respected his need to be alone. People like Walter Sorenson did not.
      “Are ya comin’ in, or starin’ at the sky ’til it turns blue again?”
     Hank kicked at the dirt, then started toward cabin. “What brings you up this far, Walter?”
     “A little huntin’. And checkin’ on the ol’ place.”
     Hank gave a nod. He ducked a bit to get through the door without knocking his head off. How two men well over six feet could build a place and not make the door passable for anyone over five foot ten, Hank couldn’t say. Could have been the few nips they had of the French wine Will Connor sent while they were measuring. Cal tried to tell Josie they’d been celebrating hearing from Will after a year of nothing when she found them propping up a wall singing God Save the King and toasting George V.
     His mouth twitched with the memory as he toed off his boots and hooked his hat and coat on the wooden pegs by the door. The humor turned to a scowl at Walter’s hat and coat taking up room. He stomped over to the fireplace and sat on his heels, rubbed his hands together in an attempt to shake the cold and his sour attitude. The gas light over the table hissed, casting a dim light over the room. The Little Creek cow camp’s abode wasn’t a mansion, but it was spacious compared to most. Though one room, a kitchen area occupied one corner, complete with a Monarch iron stove and icebox, and even a few cupboards above the sink with a pump, so when Josie was there she didn’t have to haul water.
     Memories warmed Hank and thawed his mind. He’d never call Walt a friend, but he couldn’t slot him as an enemy, either. It wouldn’t hurt him to be hospitable. Once he gained his manners, he unfolded to his full height. Walter stood dishing up beans from the Monarch stove onto an enamelware plate.
     “You know most people up in these mountains?”
     Walter flopped on the cedar bench, taking up one side of the table and swallowed a spoonful of beans. His dark eyes sparked with flames from the fire and curiosity.
     “Not many left up here. Why?”
     “Any have a daughter, or maybe a younger woman?”
     Hank couldn’t say why he thought it was a young woman other than the fact she moved with the speed and grace of a deer. If truth be told, at twenty–eight he might not be as spry as he used to be, but he sure as hell didn’t want to hear a woman of eighty outran and outfoxed him.
     If he hadn’t been staring holes into him, Hank would have missed the way Walter shifted in his chair and raked his fingers through what little was left of his gray hair. After a deep draw of coffee, the man wore a mask of innocence.
     “A woman, ya say?”
     “Yeah, you know…” Hank waved his hands drawing a curvaceous figure in the air, “a woman. Remember how they look?”
     Walter’s eyes narrowed. “Vaguely. But there hasn’t been a woman up here in…” he swallowed hard; like emotion clogged his throat and smoke filled the eyes that just seconds before held fire. He pushed the plate away from him. “Ten years…ten years to the day next Sunday.”
     Hank slid into the rickety ladder–back chair opposite Walter, his own hunger forgotten. Something rode him hard to find out about the woman who lived in the Bighorns. It was ten years ago, but something as intangible as air told him she held the key to the day’s insanity.
     “What happened October 10, 1906?”
     Walter’s eyes turned to black ice. “I’m not much on ghost stories, boy, so if you’re lookin’ for entertainment, look to someone else.”
     Hank leaned back in his chair and could only stare at a man who lived to gossip, tell wild stories and entertain. Hell, even among the chatty hens of Sheridan, a man couldn’t find half the juice to a story as Walter Sorenson could give. And damn if what the man didn’t know, he could weave a wild tale around until a person didn’t care what was fact or fiction anymore.
     Walter pushed off the bench and scraped the leftover beans into the pot before dumping his plate into a sink of soapy water. Hank watched the man shift his short stature from fire to water. He smoothed his mustache.
     “I saw a woman today.”
     A blue and white enamel mug hit the floor and Hank winced as the last mug was chipped. Then he turned his attention back to Walter. The man was white as the frosting on his brother Howard’s birthday cake. The buzz of the gas light hummed like a swarm of bees in the awkward silence.
     “A woman?”
     Hank shrugged, “Yeah, well at least from what I saw, which wasn’t more than a flash of red hair and her blue dress.”
     “Annie,” the man choked out the name.
     Hank hitched a brow. “Annie? You know her?”
     A tremble shook Walt’s shoulders and his face darkened. “Used to.”
    “Used to?”
    “Annie Sullivan was raped and murdered ten years ago.”
Thanks for stopping by!!



YEEE-HAW, folks!! I’m havin’ my first book signing today and Cookie’s feelin’ a bit left out (since I can’t take him into the finer establishments of Sheridan)!! So the ol’ Coot is givin’ away a signed copy of HOME FIRES with one of the gorgeous bookmarks I’ll be handin’ out!!   10695165_697923293626398_2135748994_n

All you have to do is leave a comment answering one of two questions:

In HOME FIRES, Cord’s horse, Gentleman, is a buckskin. Do you have a preference about what breed/color of horse a hero rides?


Tall, Dark and Handsome or Blond, built, Viking god? How do you like your cowboy hero served up?

DRAWING WILL BE MONDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 30, 2014!! GOOD LUCK TO ALL!  Also, if you wouldn’t mind thinking of leaving a review on Amazon, B&N, or Goodreads, or all three. Reviews really help an author out and I’d be very grateful.

Final Cover Home Fires


I’m giving a free copy of this one over at www.prairierosepublications.blogspot.com!! And I’m talking Ghosts of Sheridan, Wyoming!