Selected praise for
SARAH McCARTYâS
award-winning HELLâS EIGHT series
Romance Reviews Today Best Erotic Historical Romance
âSarah McCartyâs new series is an exciting blend of raw masculinity,
spunky, feisty heroines and the wild living in the old west⦠Ms. McCarty gave us small peeks into each member of the Hellâs Eight and Iâm looking forward to reading the other menâs stories.â
âErotica Romance Writers (9/10)
âIntense, edgy and passionate, this is old-school historical romance
at its finest.â
âRT Book Reviews (4.5 stars)
âMcCarty continues her Hellâs Eight series with this solidly
plotted tale. Thereâs wonderful chemistry between Sam and Bella, and the witty banter between them makes the story come alive.â
âRT Book Reviews (4 stars)
âReaders who enjoy erotic romance but havenât found an author
who can combine it with an historical setting may discover a new auto-buy authorâ¦I have.â
âAll About Romance
RT Book Reviews Reviewersâ Choice for Best Erotic Historical
âWhat really sets McCartyâs stories apart from simple erotica
is the complexity of her characters and conflicts. The third installment of her Hells Eight series is historically accurateâ¦and definitely spicy, but itâs a great love story too.â
âRT Book Reviews (4.5 stars), TOP PICK!
âIf you like your historicals packed with emotion, excitement and heat,
you can never go wrong with a book by Sarah McCarty.â
âRomance Junkies
April 5, 1858
Dear Ari,
I donât know how to start this letter, except to say thank God youâre alive.
So much has happened in the last year. Not all of it good, but some of it so special, there arenât words to describe it. Iâm married. Happily so, to a man of whom Papa would never have approved. He doesnât have money, doesnât have social position, and doesnât care a fig about mine, but he is everything I never dreamed big enough to desire when we used to sit under the apple tree imagining the perfect husband. A heart that knows no limits, a sense of honor that canât be compromised, and a love for me so rich, Iâll never be poor. Heâs Hellâs Eight, and if youâre still living in the Texas territory when this letter finds you, you know what that means. If not, youâre in for a treat. The men of Hellâs Eight are a breed apart. A standard on which to build legends, for all theyâll scoff at you if you tell them so.
My husbandâs name is Caine Allen, and heâs the one insisting I write this letter. He believes in family and in my intuition, and though everyone says youâre dead, he says my gut feeling is good enough for him, and heâs promised finding you will be Hellâs Eightâs number one priority. He can be high-handed at times, but in the best ways.
Iâm sorry I canât introduce you to the man handing you this letter, but you see, Iâve made seven copies and entrusted them to seven different men: Tucker, Sam, Tracker, Shadow, Luke, Caden and Ace. Like my husband, theyâre Hellâs Eight and Iâm asking you to put yourself in their care because each one of them has made a promise to me, one theyâve sworn to uphold.
Theyâve promised to bring you home, Ari. Home to Hellâs Eight, where thereâs no past, no recriminations, no judgment, just peace and a place where you can breathe easily. After what weâve been through, I know it sounds like a preacherâs description of heaven, illusive and unreal. But I promise you there is a way out of hell and if you havenât already found it, Iâll help you.
Trust no one but them, Ari, because Fatherâs solicitor, Harold Amboy, is the one who arranged for us to be ambushed initially, and he has men hunting for you, too. He intends to control Fatherâs money through one of us. But you can trust any of these men. Absolutely and completely, with everything you hold dear.
Iâm crying as I write this. I canât imagine what youâve been through. I canât forget how we parted. My nightmares, which must have been your reality. The sense of helplessness as I stare at the night sky, wondering if you can see the same stars, wondering if youâre healthy, happy, and most of all safe.
Do you remember the game we used to play as children when things didnât go our way? How weâd find a patch of daisies dappled in sunlight, link our hands in our special way and then just spin until we didnât care about anything else? I so want to see you again, Ari, find a patch of daisies, grab hands and spin until laughter takes over and all the bad falls away. Though itâs irrational, because I have no idea how long it will take the men to find youâdays, months, yearsâI have to say this.
Hurry home, Ari. Iâve planted a patch of daisies and itâs waiting.
âSo youâre going after her?â