[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”Hero” _builder_version=”4.17.6″ use_background_color_gradient=”on” background_color_gradient_direction=”90deg” background_color_gradient_stops=”rgba(240,242,246,0.5) 0%|rgba(255,255,255,0) 100%” background_color_gradient_start=”rgba(240,242,246,0.5)” background_color_gradient_end=”rgba(255,255,255,0)” background_enable_image=”off” custom_padding=”0|0px|0|0px|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ padding_top_bottom_link_1=”true” _builder_version=”4.16″ min_height=”470.3px” custom_padding=”59px|0px|59px|0px|false|false” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.16″ background_color_gradient_direction=”270deg” background_color_gradient_start=”#ffffff” background_color_gradient_end=”rgba(255,255,255,0.8)” custom_padding=”6vw||6vw|” custom_padding_tablet=”|5%||5%||true” custom_padding_phone=”|7%||7%||true” global_colors_info=”{}” padding_phone=”|7%||7%||true” padding_tablet=”|5%||5%||true” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.17.6″ text_font=”||||||||” text_font_size=”18px” text_line_height=”1.8em” header_font=”Playfair Display|700|||||||” header_font_size=”70px” header_line_height=”1.5em” header_3_font=”Lato|700||on|||||” header_3_text_color=”#3550a0″ header_3_font_size=”20px” header_3_line_height=”1.5em” custom_margin=”|||” header_font_size_tablet=”50px” header_font_size_phone=”32px” header_font_size_last_edited=”on|tablet” header_3_font_size_tablet=”50px” header_3_font_size_phone=”32px” header_3_font_size_last_edited=”off|desktop” locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n
Malden Grove, Illinois has no idea the trouble headed its way…<\/span><\/p>\n A daughter hell-bent on avenging her father….<\/span> A case of mistaken identity and a situation that has them both KEEPING SECRETS in a town where everyone is interested in everybody else’s business.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_button button_url=”https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Keeping-Secrets-Historical-Romantic-Undercover-ebook\/dp\/B006LUI6JA\/ref=sr_1_2?crid=W3O26QUSB7A7&keywords=tammie+clarke+gibbs&qid=1676669696&s=digital-text&sprefix=%2Cdigital-text%2C97&sr=1-2″ url_new_window=”on” button_text=”Purchase On Amazon” button_alignment=”center” _builder_version=”4.17.6″ _module_preset=”default” custom_button=”on” button_text_color=”#FFFFFF” button_bg_color=”#000000″ global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_button][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.16″ background_color_gradient_start=”#3550a0″ background_color_gradient_start_position=”25%” background_color_gradient_end=”rgba(240,242,246,0)” background_color_gradient_end_position=”25%” custom_padding=”|||” custom_padding_tablet=”|0px||0px|false|true” global_colors_info=”{}” padding_tablet=”|0px||0px|false|true” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/01\/Sworn-25.png” title_text=”Sworn (25)” _builder_version=”4.24.0″ _module_preset=”default” background_image=”https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/08\/castle-3628643_1920.jpg” max_width=”65%” hover_enabled=”0″ global_colors_info=”{}” url=”https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Keeping-Secrets-Historical-Romantic-Undercover-ebook\/dp\/B006LUI6JA\/ref=sr_1_3?crid=3CXUT9WCGV6PZ&keywords=tammie+clarke+gibbs&qid=1705974745&s=digital-text&sprefix=tammie+clarke+gibbs%2Cdigital-text%2C103&sr=1-3″ sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”About” _builder_version=”4.17.6″ background_enable_image=”off” background_blend=”darken” custom_padding=”90px|0px|54px|0px|false|false” filter_opacity=”50%” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.17.6″ custom_margin=”-105px|auto||auto||” custom_padding=”0px|||||” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.17.6″ background_enable_image=”off” background_blend=”saturation” custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.17.6″ text_font=”||||||||” text_font_size=”16px” text_line_height=”1.9em” header_font=”||||||||” header_2_font=”Playfair Display|700|||||||” header_2_font_size=”40px” header_2_line_height=”1.5em” header_6_font=”||||||||” max_width=”600px” max_width_last_edited=”off|desktop” module_alignment=”center” custom_margin=”|||” custom_padding=”34px|||||” header_2_font_size_tablet=”30px” header_2_font_size_phone=”24px” header_2_font_size_last_edited=”on|phone” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n <\/strong><\/p>\n <\/strong><\/p>\n <\/strong><\/p>\n Would the damn room ever quit spinning?\u00a0<\/span>Jeremy Loud tried to focus.\u00a0<\/span>His hand roamed his taut flesh instinctively searching for the site of his discomfort.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat the hell?\u201d he sputtered as he reached the bandage on his side, his breathing ragged.<\/p>\n He paused, confused.\u00a0<\/span>Was he delirious?\u00a0<\/span>Could he trust his own sense of touch?\u00a0<\/span>Jeremy explored the softness of a woman\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n \u201cMr. Loud.\u00a0<\/span>Please.\u00a0<\/span>Lie back down.\u201d<\/p>\n Slowly, the room came into focus, and he looked up into the green eyes of what he could only describe as an angel.<\/p>\n Her hair flowed softly around a delicate face and looked as if it had been kissed by the sun itself.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease Mr. Loud!\u201d she pleaded.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cYou\u2019ll start bleeding again.\u201d<\/p>\n The pain from his wound paled against the sheer torture of her fingers as they brushed ever so lightly against his skin.\u00a0<\/span>He tried to sit up, but she easily forced him back down onto the bed.\u00a0<\/span>Then he felt her fingers brush lightly against his forehead.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re burning up!\u201d\u00a0<\/span>She grabbed a cloth, dipped it into a bowl then blotted his forehead with it.<\/p>\n Yes, he was.\u00a0<\/span>He could feel the heat as it radiated off his body.\u00a0<\/span>It was a good thing his body was well covered from her view, or she might realize it was passion and not a fever that stoked the fire of his flesh.<\/p>\n Jeremy reached for her.\u00a0<\/span>He could only reach one of her wrists, so he eased her closer and closer to him as if he were going to speak to her.<\/p>\n Their lips were only inches from one another when he wrapped his fingers in her hair and pulled her even closer.\u00a0<\/span>His pulse quickened. He felt no pain, just energy surging through his veins.<\/p>\n \n Chapter 2<\/p>\n Jeremy Loud woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed.\u00a0<\/span>A peculiar smell filled the room.<\/p>\n He looked around, disoriented at first.<\/p>\n There were frilly window dressings on all four bedroom windows that to his knowledge hadn\u2019t been there the day before.<\/p>\n Even more to his surprise, he noticed there were several of a woman\u2019s unmentionables spread out on a chair beside the bed.<\/p>\n Anxious for an explanation, he shoved the covers to the side and bounded out of bed like a jackrabbit jumps out of a hole, a move he regretted the moment the pain hit him.<\/p>\n Though he didn\u2019t remember undressing, he stood in front of God, in the spill of early-morning sunshine, bare as a newborn.<\/p>\n His britches were nowhere in sight, so he snatched up a quilt and wrapped it around his waist.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that awful smell?\u201d\u00a0<\/span>He regretted saying it the moment it left his lips.<\/p>\n Startled, the woman dropped the spoon she\u2019d been stirring with.<\/p>\n His eyes widened in surprise.\u00a0<\/span>The woman from his dream, the angel, she was standing in his kitchen.<\/p>\n All five feminine feet of her, stretched out before him like a king\u2019s banquet.<\/p>\n Once again, he could feel his blood begin to race.\u00a0<\/span>Then he remembered all he had to show for their night together was a rectangular scrap of gauze and one hell of a headache.<\/p>\n He wondered how such a demure creature could be capable of such rough love play.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere the hell are my clothes?\u201d<\/p>\n The woman leaned down and picked up the spoon.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cYour shirt was in tatters. I made rags out of it.\u00a0<\/span>Your pants are over there on the table….\u201d<\/p>\n Details from the night before were still sketchy, but there was one thing he did remember, a telegram from Quincy Davenport.\u00a0<\/span>He\u2019d stashed it in his coat pocket on his way out of the telegraph office.<\/p>\n \u201cMy coat!\u00a0<\/span>Where the hell is my coat?”<\/p>\n The nameless woman dipped the spoon into the big pot then lifted the sopping glob of material where he could see it.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cHere,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know what you\u2019ve done?\u201d\u00a0<\/span>His grip tightened on the quilt as he started across the room toward her.<\/p>\n \u201cPardon me,\u201d her voice matched the intensity of his.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cI wasn\u2019t aware that removing blood from your coat was a crime.\u201d\u00a0<\/span>She flung the coat at his feet, \u201ctake it,\u201d she sputtered then ran past him and out the back door.<\/p>\n Kneeling beside the coat, Jeremy rummaged through the pockets, but they were empty.<\/p>\n He looked everywhere. The table, the chairs, above the fireplace, it was nowhere.<\/p>\n He gathered the quilt back around his waist and looked around.\u00a0<\/span>He couldn\u2019t very well go after her looking the way he did, so he snatched his britches on.\u00a0<\/span>They were still damp, but would have to do.\u00a0<\/span>He couldn\u2019t afford to let her leave until he got that telegram.<\/p>\n He had to walk fast to catch up with her.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, did you find whatever you were so bent on finding?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did not!\u201d he answered sharply.\u00a0<\/span>Who was this woman and why the hell was she at his cabin?<\/p>\n She was obviously not a barmaid like he\u2019d first assumed.\u00a0<\/span>If Davenport was onto him, she could be one of his famous tests of loyalty?<\/p>\n Regardless, this situation required careful handling, and he knew that meant he\u2019d have to try and keep his temper in check.\u00a0<\/span>He didn\u2019t like the idea of having to follow her lead, but he didn\u2019t know what else to do.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat the hell happened to me anyway?\u201d he asked, trying to refrain from his usual bark of interrogation.<\/p>\n Hands on hips, eyes flashing, the woman took two steps toward him putting them toe-to-toe.\u00a0<\/span>Just who do you think you are?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d he asked confused, not exactly sure by which, the question or her eyes. She had bewitching green ones, cat-like and dangerous, big, round and the kind a man could get lost in.<\/p>\n He couldn\u2019t understand why he hadn\u2019t noticed them before.\u00a0<\/span>No doubt, she was a beauty.\u00a0<\/span>He was beginning to think that following her lead might not be such a bad thing after all.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat gives you the right to use that sort of language in my presence?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExactly what sort of language would that be?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cProfanity, Mr. Loud.\u00a0<\/span>Profanity is a tool of the devil, and you use it well.\u201d<\/p>\n He wasn\u2019t sure, but he thought she\u2019d just called him the devil.\u00a0<\/span>He studied the woman for a moment.\u00a0<\/span>It was hard to imagine her being involved with the likes of Davenport, but he, better than anyone else, knew that money was a strong motivator and could make a person do things they\u2019d otherwise die to avoid.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d he conceded.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cMy apologies, Mrs….?\u00a0<\/span>He edged closer.<\/p>\n \u201cI do owe you an explanation.\u00a0<\/span>I\u2019m Magen Miller.\u00a0<\/span>There was an accident yesterday, and you were hurt.\u00a0<\/span>It was my fault, and so I intended to stay with you until you recovered.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s why you were cooking my coat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was not cooking your coat!\u201d<\/p>\n Jeremy couldn\u2019t help but smile.\u00a0<\/span>Everything he said riled her.\u00a0<\/span>He\u2019d never met a woman with as much spunk.\u00a0<\/span>Maybe, if he had, things would have turned out differently.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen you were \u201csoaking\u201d my coat, did you happen to find a telegram in one of the pockets?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou mean this?\u201d\u00a0<\/span>Magen pulled a folded white paper from the pocket of her apron and handed it to him.<\/p>\n Carefully, he unfolded it and read to himself the message: June 10.\u00a0<\/span>5pm Dearborn Tavern.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cDamn!\u201d Jeremy shoved the paper into his pocket.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me you had this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t ask.\u201d\u00a0<\/span>Magen held out an ornate gold pocket watch.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cHere, you didn\u2019t ask about this either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d he said softly.\u00a0<\/span>\u201cIt was a gift from my wife. I\u2019d have hated to lose it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me. I\u2019ve got something I\u2019ve got to do.\u201d<\/p>\n He would never understand women.\u00a0<\/span>He’d drawn that conclusion early on, but despite the wisdom of his youth, he\u2019d never stopped trying.\u00a0<\/span>She didn\u2019t walk.\u00a0<\/span>She RAN into the woods toward the river, and he had an uneasy feeling she was running from him.<\/p>\n The gold pocket watch glistened as he held it up in the sunshine.\u00a0<\/span>Even dwarfed in the palm of his large hand, its brilliance was evident.<\/p>\n It was still an exquisite timepiece.\u00a0<\/span>Sarah had given it to him on their second wedding anniversary, the same night she told him of an even greater gift held within her womb.\u00a0<\/span>Jeremy flipped the case open with his thumb and read the inscription:\u00a0<\/span>\u201cFebruary 14, 1859.\u00a0<\/span>My love for you is timeless, Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n It seemed like only hours had passed, not ten years.\u00a0<\/span>A lot had happened since that night in Virginia: the War, the abolition of slavery, even, the assassination of President Lincoln.<\/p>\n When he\u2019d finished, he slipped the watch into his pocket with the telegram, blinked back the moisture at his eyes, and turned toward the cabin.<\/p>\n Once inside, Jeremy knelt beside the bed, face toward the floor.\u00a0<\/span>The shiny, silver blade slid perfectly between two wooden floorboards.<\/p>\n A quick downward motion and the heel of his hand made contact with the ivory colored bone handle.<\/p>\n The bounty waited, tools of the trade: clean revolver, a stack of counterfeit one hundred-dollar bills and an engraver\u2019s plate.<\/p>\n He\u2019d been supposed to meet Davenport the night before.\u00a0<\/span>It had taken him two months of hard work to set everything, and damned if he would let a freak accident stop him.<\/p>\n As he strapped the tooled leather holster around his waist, a pain shot up his side.\u00a0<\/span>Undaunted, he slipped the revolver into its place.<\/p>\n He hoped his little accident hadn\u2019t cost him more than a few days of discomfort.\u00a0<\/span>Davenport was a shrewd businessman and trusted few people.\u00a0<\/span>Now, he\u2019d understandably view him as unpredictable and a potential hazard to his organization.<\/p>\n Jeremy replaced the board and returned to the kitchen, where he wrote a quick note, just in case she came back.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.16″ locked=”off” global_colors_info=”{}”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.16″ custom_padding=”|||” global_colors_info=”{}” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.17.6″ text_font=”Playfair Display|700|on||||||” text_text_color=”#3550a0″ text_font_size=”25px” text_line_height=”1.5em” text_orientation=”center” max_width=”820px” module_alignment=”center” text_font_size_tablet=”30px” text_font_size_phone=”24px” text_font_size_last_edited=”on|desktop” global_colors_info=”{}”]<\/p>\n \u201cOne might be reading a Zane Grey novel, or perhaps one of Louis L\u2019Amour\u2019s works. That\u2019s how pleasant it is to read this [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Keeping secretsBook 1 Undercover heroesHistorical Romantic suspense Malden Grove, Illinois has no idea the trouble headed its way…A daughter hell-bent on avenging her father….A handsome stranger with secrets of his own…..A case of mistaken identity and a situation that has them both KEEPING SECRETS in a town where everyone is interested in everybody else’s business. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/605"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=605"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/605\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":678,"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/605\/revisions\/678"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tammieclarkegibbs.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=605"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
A handsome stranger with secrets of his own…..<\/span><\/p>\n<\/strong>EXCERPT<\/h2>\n
<\/em><\/span>Tammie Clarke Gibbs\u2019 novel.\u201d<\/em><\/span>
Carl Wilson- Florida<\/span><\/p>\n