Moonlight on the Mississippi

Moonlight on the Mississippi

River Romances Book Two

Releasing May, 2024

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Excerpt: 

This fella had lost his sunbaked mind beneath that striking mop of smoky-brown hair. Camilla Lockhart stifled a smirk as she propped her hip on the Alma May’s wheel. “You’ll need to explain why you think this”—she slapped one of the spokes and a splinter jabbed her palm—“old gal will help you find a boat at the bottom of the Mississippi.”

He opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together.

Why the confusion? If he couldn’t see the Alma May had sputtered ten years past her useable life and was being held together with a handful of prayers and buckets of tar, then she couldn’t help him. They did their best, but they could only do so much for a ramshackle tugboat.

And if he thought she would ever get involved with treasure seekers again, then her first estimation on the nature of his wits had been too generous.

The man—not much older than her own twenty-six years if she didn’t miss her guess—tipped his hat back in a roguish way that made her heart give a traitorous tremble. By her boots, Lula rumbled a growl. Exactly. Too handsome for anyone’s good.

“You run a scavenger boat, right?” He rubbed a day’s worth of dark scruff and then shoved his hands into the pockets of clean but worn britches.

Camilla snorted. “Who told you that?” She’d wallop them for sure for stirring up old rumors better left buried.

“Look, Miss—”

“Captain.”

He blinked. To his credit, the surprise vanished quickly. “Captain Lockhart. I promise this will be a trip worth your while. The pay is good.”

A sweltering August breeze poked through the windows and attempted to cool the sweat from her brow. What a mess she must look. Though to be fair, she hadn’t planned on receiving company when she’d docked in Natchez. Least of all the handsome sort. She ran a hand down her trousers and hoped there weren’t any grease stains.

Lula pawed at her knee, waiting to be picked up. When Camilla scooped up her furry companion and settled the black-and-white terrier on her hip, Lula swayed toward the man, sniffing.

The fellow’s face softened, and an endearing tip curved his lips.

Handsome and turned a kind eye on her pup? Something in her chest pinched. She needed to get this man off her boat before he could cause all sorts of trouble. Like muddling her senses.

She cocked an eyebrow at his near-threadbare shirt and put her mind back on topic. “I don’t indulge fool’s errands.”

His cheeks tinged pink, and he straightened broad shoulders. “I don’t have the money yet, but as soon as we find that treasure—”

“You mean if. If we find this supposed treasure.” She blew out a breath and gestured toward the exit. Whoever had let this man into her pilothouse deserved three extra shifts moping the deck where Lula did her personal business. Camilla turned sideways to squeeze past him and escape.

“Please. You’re my only hope.”

Maybe it was the note of desperation in his voice. Or perhaps it had something to do with the arresting quality of those emerald-green eyes that seemed to hold a century’s worth of life. A girl could get lost in eyes like those. Dangerous waters, that.

Whatever the reason, she and Lula paused at the door. “Mr…” She twisted her lips. “What did you say your name was?”

“Gray.” He thrust out his hand, and she slid her palm against his calloused one. “Daniel Gray.”

His gaze latched onto hers and held. Snakes and salt water. This man could convince a common field mouse she was a warhorse, and she’d follow him into battle.

Camilla extracted herself from his grip. “Sorry, Mr. Gray. I wish I could help you.”

She’d barely made it three steps from the pilothouse, that unnerving fellow on her heels, when a shout came from the deck.

“Trouble ho!”

Great. What else could go wrong today?