Book Promo Feature – Rubeck’s Raiders by Van Holt

Indie Book Promo is happy to welcome Van Holt to the blog! He’s here to share about his book, Rubeck’s Raiders. If this book sounds like something that you would be interested in reading, please find a buy link below and pick up a copy.


Rubecks Raiders cover finalWhat some reviewers have to say about Van Holt’s writing:


“Step aside Louis L’Amour, another great Western writer is here…”  –Heather


“I had a feeling that Van Holt…might actually be the successor to Zane Gray, a master Western storysmith, whose novels set the style of a generation.”  –Stern0


“Van Holt is King of the Spaghetti Western…”  –Rarebird1




The Civil war divided the country and tore families apart. After the war, two half brothers became legendary gunfighters and cowboys in the old West–and deadly enemies.

Rubeck’s Raiders, a confederate army unit, were so brutal, even their own army disowned them. When the leaders’ son and paramour were killed one night, he knew it was one of his own men. A man hunt that spanned 10 years ensued.

The murdered girls’ younger sister saw a face in the window that horrible night, and swore to track her sister’s killer down. She hires trained killers to hunt him so she can get her revenge.

That’s how both half brothers became two of the most wanted men in the old West.

Changing names and identities, moving from frontier town to frontier town, hiding out – all became a way of life, along with having to fight for their lives at almost every turn.

One half brother knew he did it. The other was blamed for it. One didn’t want anything to do with the other. The other was protecting him.

They are all in one deadly pursuit to get him first.


Warning: Reading a Van Holt western may make you want to get on a horse and hunt some bad guys down in the Old West. Of course, the easiest and most enjoyable way to do it is vicariously—by reading another Van Holt western.

Van Holt writes westerns the way they were meant to be written.

Rubeck’s Raiders is available:

Amazon US  |   Amazon UK buy link  |   Three Knolls pub link

Van Holt author page link   |   B&N   |   CreateSpace buy link

iTunes Books   |   Google Play   |   Google Books link

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Bio: Van Holt wrote his first western when he was in high school and sent it to a literary agent, who soon returned it, saying it was too long but he would try to sell it if Holt would cut out 16,000 words. Young Holt couldn’t bear to cut out any of his perfect western, so he threw it away and started writing another one.

A draft notice interrupted his plans to become the next Zane Grey or Louis L’Amour. A tour of duty as an MP stationed in South Korea was pretty much the usual MP stuff except for the time he nabbed a North Korean spy and had to talk the dimwitted desk sergeant out of letting the guy go. A briefcase stuffed with drawings of U.S. aircraft and the like only caused the overstuffed lifer behind the counter to rub his fat face, blink his bewildered eyes, and start eating a big candybar to console himself. Imagine Van Holt’s surprise a few days later when he heard that same dumb sergeant telling a group of new admirers how he himselfhad caught the famous spy one day when he was on his way to the mess hall.

Holt says there hasn’t been too much excitement since he got out of the army, unless you count the time he was attacked by two mean young punks and shotone of them in the big toe. Holt believes what we need is punk control, not gun control.

After traveling all over the West and Southwest in an aging Pontiac, Van Holt got tired of traveling the day he rolled into Tucson and he has been there ever since, still dreaming of becoming the next Zane Grey or Louis L’Amour when he grows up. Or maybe the next great mystery writer. He likes to write mysteries when he’s not too busy writing westerns or eating Twinkies.

  Van Holt can be found:

 Amazon Author Page   *   FB page

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Excerpt from
Rubeck’s Raiders
by Van Holt

One cold rainy night toward the end of the Civil War, nine men halted their tired horses in the dripping trees on a hill overlooking a small isolated town in southwestern Missouri. They were all that was left of Rubeck’s Raiders.

Rubeck—old Rube to friend and foe alike—was a stout black-bearded man in his early forties. “I’d like to ride down myself,” he said gruffly. “But the old woman’s dead and I ain’t got no purty girl waitin’ down there fur me, neither. All I’d find waitin’ down there fur me is a whole passel o’ bluebellies, like as not. They know most of us is from around here. You’re a fool fur wantin’ to chance it yoreself, Wade. But I ain’t so old yit that I can’t recollect what it’s like to have a purty girl waitin’ fur you, and to wonder iff’n she really is still waitin’. That Lucy Talcott has done run off with some handsome young bluebelly, like as not.”

A few of the heavily armed guerrillas chuckled, and Wade Harmon, not quite twenty, shifted uncomfortably in his wet saddle. He remained silent as usual, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Well, go on down there and see her then,” Rubeck said impatiently. It’s yore own neck, whether it’s the bluebellies or old Syrus that catches you foolin’ around down there. Before you leave, round up that triflin’ no-good son o’ mine and bring him on back with you, iff’n the bluebellies ain’t done rounded him up or shot him. He shoulda come back a month ago. He wasn’t hit that bad. And while you’re at it, why don’t you bring that half brother of yourn along, too. He’s plenty old enough to fight. He ain’t much younger than you, is he?”

“A year and a half. He’s eighteen now.”

“He should have been with us two or three years now!” Rubeck bellowed. “But them Turners allus was hard ones to figger. Wouldn’t surprise me none if Dave ain’t gone off and joined up with them bluebellies.”

“I sort of doubt it,” Wade Harmon said.

“Well, git on down there,” Rubeck told him. “Don’t keep that girl waitin’. And don’t furgit to bring Beau back with you. Iff’n he ain’t well by now he never will be. We’ll be camped twenty miles south. You know the place.”

Harmon rode on down toward the scattered lights of the hamlet while the others circled around and headed south, keeping out of sight in the timber and brush.

The Talcotts lived in a large two-story white house just outside of town. Harmon, knowing there were Union troops in the area, left his horse tied in the brush and approached cautiously on foot, moving toward the lamplit window of Lucy’s room on the ground floor.

At the edge of the yard he suddenly stopped, staring at her window. He saw Lucy, radiant and beautiful in a white dress, smiling and talking to a stout, black-haired young man. As Harmon watched in disbelief, Beau Rubeck, with an air of supreme confidence, took the slender laughing girl in his heavy arms and kissed her—and she kissed him back!

Wade Harmon began to understand why Beau Rubeck had been in no hurry to rejoin the remnant of his father’s guerrilla band.

As he was trying to decide what to do, he saw a shadowy movement at the corner of the house. A moment later a tall slender young man in the blue uniform of a Union soldier stood in the yard with his back to Harmon, looking through the window at Lucy Talcott and Beau Rubeck. Harmon was standing in the shadows at the edge of the trees, and in the darkness and the rain the Union soldier had not seen him.

Very slowly and carefully, Harmon drew a heavy revolver from his belt and began to edge back into the trees.

He had not seen the Union soldier draw a gun. The soldier’s body hid the gun from him and he did not see the soldier raise the gun and take aim. The gun roared twice, glass shattered, and the second bullet cut short the scream that ended Lucy Talcott’s life.

In horror Wade Harmon saw both Lucy and Beau Rubeck falling, and he flung up his gun, cocking it.

The Union soldier spun around, cocking his own gun, and now in the rainy shaft of light from the window Harmon could see the young man’s blond hair and narrow handsome face.

“Dave!” he whispered in horrified disbelief.

Dave Turner froze and for a long moment they stood staring at each other in the rainy night, each holding a cocked revolver in his hand, pointed at the other.

Then without a word or a sound Dave Turner turned and disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving his half brother standing there in the rain with the look of horror and disbelief on his face.

After a long moment Wade Harmon went toward the window, walking swiftly and silently like one in a nightmare, which this seemed to be. He knew he should be running for his horse in the brush, but he had to see if Lucy was still alive.

He pressed his gaunt bearded face to the streaming window and peered in. Lucy Talcott and Beau Rubeck both lay still on the carpeted floor—still and dead. Dave Turner had always been a good shot, perhaps even better than Wade Harmon. He would not have killed Lucy accidentally—he had meant to kill her. But why?

Harmon became aware that a young girl of perhaps ten or eleven had come into the room and was staring with wide frightened eyes at his face pressed against the window. Like Lucy, she had glossy black hair and green eyes. She had grown a lot since Harmon had last seen her but it had to be Lucy’s little sister, Lorna.

He saw the girl’s lips move, framing his name, and he turned away and fled into the dark rainy night.


The preceding was from the gritty western novel
Rubeck’s Raiders

To keep reading, click or go here:

Book Promo Feature – Dom Wars Round One by Lucian Bane

Indie Book Promo is happy to welcome Lucian Bane to the blog. He’s here to share about his book, Dom Wars Round One. If this book sounds like something you would be interested in reading, please find a buy link below and pick up a copy.

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Lucian Bane’s inner Dom is out of control and hungry for things he can’t name. When he signs up for Dom Wars, he meets Tara who is naive to the BDSM world. Her reckless dominance and puritan heart fascinate him. But when he discovers the pain in her past, it unleashes his true Dom within.

Dom Wars is available on Amazon




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Author Bio










Lucian Bane can be found:

Website  |  Google+  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Tumblr  |  Pinterest


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I realized something as I laid naked and tied wide open on the play bed in the toy room. Her dominant nature was playing against mine. Keeping me from her. Well I knew how to fucking fix that.


“How long are you going to study it?” I watched her chew on her thumb nail while pacing nude before me, desperately searching the list in her hands. She was down to the nitty-gritty on her maybe list and had exhausted all the fluff. Pleasure or pain now.

She stopped pacing and looked at me. “Do you have to constantly stare at me?”

I let out a huge laugh. “Yes. Yes I fucking do.”

“I thought you didn’t do porn.”

“Porn? Is that what you think you are? A Playboy centerfold?”

She faced me, only having her glare to point with. Her hands were busy, one covering her gorgeous pussy and her paper covering her breasts. “I know I’m not all that, you don’t need to rub it in.”

Dear God, this stupid woman.

“You misunderstand love.”

“Do I?”

“Yes you do.”

“Don’t try to lie and say I’m pretty.”

“Not pretty. You’re much more than that love. You’re a super nova hitting my world and I can’t turn away. I’m riveted in awe, wondering what the fuck is this angel doing in my dungeon?”

“Flattery. How cute.”

“Just please fucking pick something for Christ sake, my wrists and ankles are going numb and there’s no points for that. So, if you’re going to chose something sadistic, make it count.”

She went back to pacing and I allowed my gaze to devour every inch of her delectable preoccupied body. She was about to get what she clearly needed for the past ten years. “Just know, when it’s my turn… I’m choosing forced orgasm for you, love.”

She stopped pacing and turned to me, her spine erect. But where oh where was the challenge in her eyes?

Dominance hummed through my body and brought a joyous curve to my lips. “I’m going to imprison you in pleasure. Until you’re crying. Until you’re begging. Until your well kept secrets are on fire and dripping down your thighs. I’m going you crush your sexy resistance with my lips and tongue. And I’m going to be right at your scorching mouth, eating up the sounds of your mind blowing orgasm until you say it—no, until you scream it. Lucian. Lucian Bane. That’s what I want you to scream while I milk the ectasy from your pretty little soul.”

She stood there in shock. I was wondering if she’d ever recover when she finally began to nod. “That’s it. Play dirty.”

“We’re likely so far behind in points, it’s over. Do you really think they’re not done with their entire lists? Or at least all the big point items that we’ve not touched. It’s not if they’ll do the list, love, it’s how well they do it. And in that regard, we are so losing our asses.” But I’d known we would all along.

She pointed at me, revealing her breasts. “I don’t need this from you. We’re supposed to be a team. I can’t do some of this stuff.” She actually appeared hurt, like she knew it was going to be her fault they lost. But I was tired of playing.

“You should have thought about that before you signed up. And why can’t you do the pleasure list, Tara. It’s fucking pleasure, you won’t die.”

“It’s not just pleasure. It’s… I can’t…” she opened her arms completely forgetting her nudity. “I can’t just do those things with anybody,”

My cock stood tall and she went back to covering herself at seeing it, eyes all suspicious. “Well when does one become more than just anybody to you, Tara? You have a formula for the human emotions?”

She stared at me and finally turned, presenting her backside.

“Oh God, baby, let me worship your ass. Choose Ass worship, I beg you. Or Face Sitting. I’ll pay you.” I pulled on the restraints in agitation. Face Sitting is worth a lot. We need the points. It’s just pleasure, love, and I’m tied up. You’ve masturbated before I’m sure? You can close your eyes and pretend that’s all your doing.”

She paced and shook both her hands. “Okay. Okay, okay. I’ll do it. But I have to bathe.”

“Fuuuuuuck.” I groaned.

“I’m not letting you do that unless I bathe. Ew.”

“Can you fucking hurry?”

“Fine, fine.”

I watched her go into the bathroom and closed my eyes, sheer joy racing through me. An eternal fucking hour later the shower shut off.

“Close your eyes. Please.”

The timid way she demanded set me on fucking fire. What was it with her and that yin-yang behavior? Why did I like it so much?

“You must be a prune.”

I felt her hand pressing on the small bed. “I’m climbing on you.”

Book Promo Feature – The List of Five by J. Scott Sharp

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Book Promo Feature – Ten Brides for Ten Heroes by Mimi Barbour and friends

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Book Promo Feature – What’s Your Author Platform? Create It, Understand It, Use It by Barb Drozdowich


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Book Promo Feature – Billy McCoy author of Blissful Fragments

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