Today I welcome author Krystal Anderson as she shares about her upcoming release.

Hello, I'm Krystal M. Anderson and I write sweet historical westerns, mostly because I pretend to live one. I milk cows, ride horses, and raise chickens, along with the "raising a family" thing with the man I love. I appreciate chocolate, books, holidays, and nature. If I'm an author who is new to you, I invite you to subscribe to my reader newsletter and receive a free western novelette as an introduction to my writing. 

My newest release is A Match for Billy, and you know what made this story so fun? Billy is one goofy cowboy, but he has a big heart. There's a mysterious disappearance, a bully, a leggy colt with a mind of its own, and - of course - the most important ingredient in my stories: a sweet, swoony love story. 

Billy was first introduced a few stories back. You see, I imagined up this fictional town in the middle-of-nowhere Nevada called Cottonwood Creek, and when the mayor needed a bride, he sent for one through a matchmaker. Their story is, well, another story, but suffice to say Billy got this harebrained idea that he should order a bride for his buddy and fellow cowhand, Skip, through the same matchmaker. Surprise! Skip wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea the day his bride arrived. Billy was in all sorts of trouble. Then, with Skip happily married, Billy realized how lonesome cow punching really is and finally orders a bride for himself.

Things are not as they seem in this book, and, as usual, Billy is the last one to figure it all out. It’s pretty hilarious. Don’t worry, all my stories end with a happily-ever-after so no matter how bad it gets, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.

Read an excerpt from the story:

“I got a letter here for you, Billy,” Clem wheezed as he hobbled through the bunkhouse door. He wrinkled his nose and whistled. “Gadzooks, the smells comin’ outta this place are offensive! You boys are gonna’ have a wash day tomorrow, and I don’t wanna hear any whinin’ about it.”

Jim and Chico tumbled out of their bunks and tugged their boots on while Turkey sipped coffee from the small round card table shoved into the corner of the long, narrow room. Billy groaned from beneath his tattered blanket, unmindful of the heavy footfalls that stopped just beside him. “Gitchore sorry hide outta’ this bed, Billy Corey. It’s time to get to work.”

“I ain’t even had breakfast yet,” Billy mumbled.

“Yeah? I’ll give ya five fat sausages right to yer mouth.”

“There ain’t no reason to make threats, Clem, I’m up,” Billy grunted, dodging the meaty fingers of the ranch foreman.

“Just as well,” came Roddy from the dark, galley-style kitchen at the rear of the bunkhouse. His pockmarked face and thinning hair gave him the appearance of a hog. “I got some hot oatmeal and canned peaches for breakfast.”

The cowhands perked at the word ‘peaches’ and moseyed over to the card table to join Turkey. Billy shoved a forkful of the sweet fruit into his mouth and moaned appreciatively while Jim, as he’d been known for doing, took the utmost care to cut his into small, even pieces and mix them with the oatmeal.

“I’ll send em out soon as they’re done, boss,” Roddy promised, and Clem nodded, tossing Billy’s letter on the bunk before seeing himself out.

“Clem’s feelin’ feisty as Thunderbolt this morning,” Chico muttered around a mouthful of oatmeal. The mental picture of Clem being compared to the toughest bull on the Double T had Billy nodding.

“Must be his joints actin’ up. He gets meaner when they do,” offered Roddy. “Could mean rain’s a’comin’.”

The cowhands shared a look. Water was scarce in their neck of the woods. In fact, there weren’t any ‘woods’ to speak of. Dun Shirley’s ranch stretched across six-hundred acres of the dustiest, most arid real estate in the Silver State, and everybody who had anything to say about it was hoping and praying for rain. The creek was about near dried up, which meant the cattle on the Double T would need to be driven to higher altitudes to find water if rain didn’t fall very soon. Some of them wouldn’t make the trip, Billy knew. Not the horses, either.

Pride for his gorgeous buckskin mustang mare filled him. Those wild desert horses were hardy, bloodlines or no. Why, she’d carried him through hairy terrain, faced surly bulls, and out-distanced a thoroughbred, all with a willing, trusting mind. Foraging for food when there was little available had been a strength of hers, too, and though she was on the small side, Billy wouldn’t trade Dakota for the handsomest gelding alive. If there was a shortage of water, he was sure his little mare could survive it.

Pausing to stretch sore muscles, Billy sauntered to the trunk at the foot of his bunk where he kept every belonging he owned in the world. Well, besides his horse and tack, which were out in the corral and barn. Pulling out a fresh shirt and handkerchief, Billy dressed and threw the covers up over his mattress. That’s when the envelope fluttered to the floor.

Billy Corey

The Double T Ranch

Cottonwood Creek, Nevada

Question for readers: Now it’s your turn! Have you ever made some gesture on behalf of someone else? I want to hear whether it turned out poorly.

Thanks for visiting with me today!

Connecting online: 

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B1L5X55L

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