Reviews/Awards:
 Of
all the books in this series so far, Kentucky Flame is certainly
my favorite. She reached a new depth to not only the characters
and their relationships, but also the complex, suspenseful
plot. She certainly drew me right into this book. I felt
as though I was a part of the characters’ lives, and
with the vivid writing, I could see, feel and smell everything.
It was a wonderful reading experience. Rated
4 ½ Delightful
Divas by Melissa!
 “Once
again, Jan Scarbrough has worked her magic. This third book
in her Kentucky series (or Bluegrass Reunion series) is another
wonderful example of her writing skills. She transports her
readers into the middle of the American Saddlebred arena
and makes us feel as if we are, indeed, present during the
activities of showing horses. It is obvious she knows of
which she writes. Her methods capture our imagination and
insure our personal involvement in her books.
There are a myriad of characters involved
in telling this compelling story. How they intertwine is
the essence of this latest offering. The relationship between
Mel and Jake is so touching that I couldn’t wait to
turn the pages. I had no idea how the suspenseful slant to
the storyline would work itself out. This was definitely
not a usual, cookie-cutter book.
I highly recommend this latest
in Scarbrough’s series.
Her sensuality is sensitive but not overpowering. The chemistry
evident throughout the book is just another reason to pick
up this book. You will see that she deserves a place on your
automatic read list."Reviewer:
Brenda Talley, The Romance Studio
"Kentucky Flame by Jan
Scarbrough delivers! It is interesting, intensely passionate,
and peopled with
protagonists you care about. Mel is strong and stubborn.
Jake is caring and a to-die-for hero. Secondary characters
breathe life into a story of desire and intrigue.
Scarbrough’s horse knowledge
shines without being overwhelming. Crisp dialogue and masterful
transitions
create a hero and heroine you can take to your heart in this
well-executed story of two people reunited at last. Brava
Ms. Scarbrough." Review
on Amazon.com
Excerpt:
Royalty Farm
Near Simpsonville, Kentucky
Saturday afternoon
A cold, black dread gripped Melody O’Shea’s heart.
Hands tight on the steering wheel, she scarcely breathed. In
the distance a thin plume of smoke floated from a window of
Royalty Farm’s main show barn.
Fire was a horseman’s worst nightmare.
Her Jeep Cherokee rolled to a complete stop in the parking
lot, and Mel flung open the door, sprinting toward the barn. “Fire!”
A wiry groom poked his head out of the tack room, bridle in
hand, surprise in his eyes. “Mel, is that you?”
“Fire!” she shouted over sounds of panicked horses. “Dave,
call 911!”
Lifting the water hose off a nearby rack, Mel raised the pump
handle and hoisted rolls of it on her shoulder. The hose was
used for filling water troughs, not for fighting fires. Jerking
the clumsy hose down the hazy aisle of the training barn, Mel
settled her intent gaze on the end stall where flames traced
their liquid fingers along the sides of the wall.
Trapped horses snorted and circled in their stalls, rearing
to get out of the smoke only to stick their heads into the
thickest part of it. She heard the sharp complaint of a hoof
striking a wooden wall and another high scream, echoing her
own fear.
Already her nostrils stung from the acrid smoke. What if she
couldn’t put out the fire? She had to. There was too
much at stake.
“Okay. Easy, easy,” Mel said to the horses, knowing
it wasn’t okay.
Her words were as worthless as the thin stream of water she
shot at the flames. The heat was intense—a noxious, gut-wrenching
heat radiated from a fire she couldn’t control. Mel’s
arms throbbed. Her eyes burned. This was unreal. It wasn’t
happening. It happened on television or in books where heroic
cowboys rescued horses from flaming barns. Other barns burned.
Not Royalty Farm’s prime training barn.
“Mel, we can’t save it.”
“No!”
The old groom’s fingers were steel on her arm. “C’mon,
there’s not much time. We’ve got to get the horses
out!”
God help them. Dave was right. “Okay!”
Dave thrust a lead into her hand and Mel threw down the hose.
Coughing, her eyes tearing from the smoke, she took the stall
nearest the flames. Dreamcatcher. Pop had pegged the stallion
his next World’s Grand Champion.
Fortunately the horse wore a halter. Mel snapped the lead
on it. Then she stripped off her cotton polo shirt and tied
it around Dreamcatcher’s eyes. Grasping the lead with
sweaty palms, she pulled and coaxed the frightened horse from
the stall, down the long aisle into the waiting daylight and
fresh air. Outside, she led the stallion to an empty paddock,
where she stripped the shirt from his head, let him go and
firmly shut the gate.
Gulping in fresh air, her lungs hurting, Mel turned back to
the barn. Others had joined the struggle—dark, silent
forms silhouetted against the blazing inferno. Flying brands
making a curious sparkler affect in the cloudless sky.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped in horror.
Strange black shapes ran in and out of the barn, calling out
in panic, their strident voices heard above the death screams
of the horses.
“Don’t just stand there. Move your sorry ass!” A
vaguely familiar voice barked at Mel from behind.
“What?”
“Help, for God’s sake. The whole thing’s
going up!”
Anger held her immobile for a split second as she glared at
the back of the nasty-tongued man who disappeared into the
barn. She took a gulp of air, determination steeling in her
heart. The barn was going fast.
Mel ran back into the nightmare, heat and smoke rushing to
meet her. She smelled the odor of burning wood and electric
wires, the stench of burning horseflesh. At the far end, the
barn was now engulfed. Fierce flames licked the aisle. She
ran to the first occupied stall, ducking low, trying to avoid
the heavy smoke overhead.
A big gelding flailed wildly in his stall, the whites of his
eyes rolling. Mortally afraid, he screamed as she approached.
Mel grabbed the bolt on the door, threw it back, and shoved
it open.
“Easy. Easy, boy.”
The horse wore no halter. With no other choice, Mel shooed
him out of the stall, running after him toward the nearby wide-open
door. The horse turned on her and tried to return to what he
perceived as the safety of his stall. Mel raised her arms,
waving the lead line and her shirt. She shouted until her throat
hurt. The gelding veered and bolted through the opening.
In the next stall, another horse stomped and trumpeted, his
chestnut head thrown high in fright, his delicate nostrils
flaring. The animal refused to come out. Mel dodged his flying
hooves to chase him out of the stall. Once in the aisle, she
smacked his rump, hoping he’d make it to the door.
Then she turned toward the tunnel of fire that threatened
to swallow the old wooden structure. She moved in a trance.
Overhead, the rafters raged. Only minutes more and the whole
barn would be engulfed by yellow fire.
“Get the hell out!” The stranger jogged past leading
two horses.
Not yet. No. Mel ground her teeth together. Pop had worked
too hard for this place. She had to try to save one more.
Stooping low, she staggered across the smoke-clogged aisle
to the stall where Royalty’s Dreamer stood.
“Royalty!” The black mare snorted at the sound
of her name.
Thank God, she wore a halter. Mel buckled on the lead and
draped the shirt over the mare’s face. Clutching the
leather, she hauled the horse from the stall. Royalty tossed
her head, wrenching Mel’s shoulder and pulling the lead
through her hands. She grabbed it and held on.
“No! You can’t go back to the stall,” Mel
cried out. Tears blurred her eyes. Her lungs complained against
the dense smoke. The open end of the barn seemed so far away.
“Give me that damn horse and get out.” The stranger
grabbed the lead from her hand and shoved her toward the door.
Mel blinked and stumbled. He caught her elbow and steadied
her.
Jake? Something about the way his fingers grasped her bare
flesh, the way her body fit by his side, made her think of
the man she would have married.
They made it to the door just as the hayloft collapsed behind
them.
“I’ll take the mare.” Her father’s
calm, familiar voice was welcome haven.
“Here you go, Pop.” The stranger thrust the lead
into Pop’s outstretched hands and turned back to the
barn.
Mel stared after him, unable to see his face. Then wracked
by a cough, she bent double, and grasping her knees with aching
hands, forced clean air into her lungs.
“You okay, darlin’?”
“You shouldn’t be here, Pop,” she said between
gasps.
“Ain’t in my grave yet.”
Still doubled over, Mel lifted her head in time to see her
father guide the spooked mare away. His words were brave, but
she knew the old trainer’s heart must be breaking. Forty
years of work at Royalty Farm was going up in flames. It may
have been Bert Noble’s farm, but Pop’s knowledge
and ability had built it into the greatest American Saddlebred
show stable in the country. What a waste. What heartache. She
fought a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Long moments later, Mel stood up and reluctantly turned to
look at the chaos around the burning barn. As she watched,
flames blasted from the walls like a blowtorch. Oh, God! She
shivered. She was cold, colder than she had ever been in her
life. Overhead, a blistering summer sun glinted like a horrible
specter. Her heart faltered at the smell of smoke and death.
In the distance, a fire siren screamed.
Slow tears trailed down her cheeks. Mel swiped the back of
her gritty hand across her eyes. Shouts from the frantic men
obscured the sickening silence of doomed horses. Had they saved
them all? How had this happened?
“Bring that hose over here, Sam!”
“You can’t go in there, Jake! It’s too late!”
It was Jake. Jake Hendricks.
Mel swallowed the knot that rose in her throat. Her breath
came unevenly. Dazed and shaken by the knowledge that she’d
come home ironically at the same time as Jake, Mel tried to
pull herself together.
She’d fallen off many horses. When that happened, she
always gathered her nerve and climbed back on. Now, she fought
for the same control, raising her chin and reining in her sudden
panic.
If Jake was at the farm, how long would it be before he learned
about Cory?
|
