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3 Best Western Romance Novels To Read This Year [March 2023]

The best western romance novels from Next Chapter [March 2023]

Western romance novels are a subgenre of romance fiction that combines the tropes and themes of classic westerns with those of contemporary romance. Typically, these novels are set in the American West, during the 19th century, and feature cowboys, ranchers, and other rugged, independent men as the main characters. The female protagonist is often a city girl who falls in love with the rough and tumble cowboy, and they must navigate the challenges of their differing lifestyles to find a way to be together.

The western romance genre is characterized by its vivid descriptions of the American West, its portrayal of strong, independent women, and its emphasis on adventure and action. These novels often feature daring rescues, gunfights, and other high-stakes situations, making them a thrilling read for fans of both westerns and romance. While the setting may be historical, many western romance novels tackle contemporary themes such as women's empowerment, gender roles, and social justice issues.

Popular authors in the western romance genre include Linda Lael Miller, Jodi Thomas, and Diana Palmer. Many of these authors have created entire series of novels set in the American West, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a world of rugged cowboys and sweeping vistas. Whether you're a fan of classic westerns or contemporary romance, the western romance genre offers a unique and exciting blend of both.

Below, we’ve collected some of Next Chapter’s best western romance novels as of 03/2023. Whether it’s cowboys, outlaws, ranchers or lawmakers you’re looking for, we believe any of the books on this page will fit the bill!

If you enjoy the stories on this page, please don’t forget to leave the author a review :) Don’t agree with our choices? Please leave a comment and let us know your favorite!

 

Books featured on this page

 

High Plains Holiday (Love On The High Plains Book 1) by Simone Beaudelaire

Book excerpt

Sunday morning found Cody standing behind the pulpit of his new church, waiting for the organist to arrive. She came early, of course, so she could begin the prelude before the congregation started to file in.

“Miss Heitschmidt,” he called to her, and she jumped. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I have a request. I know you said the music would already be taken care of for today, but I would like the sermon hymn to be ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’.”

She looked at him from across the room but said nothing.

“Is that a problem?” he asked.

“I suppose not. I was saving it for advent next week, but…”

“You still can. Do it both times. It ties in with my sermon.”

“I don't usually use the same hymn two weeks in a row.” The cold tone had returned to her voice.

Irritated, he said sharply, “It makes no difference to me whether you play it next week or not, but I want it for the sermon hymn today.”

“You're the pastor,” she said with a sigh.

Instead of climbing the stairs to the balcony, she walked up the aisle and opened a door to the far-left side of the communion rail. A moment later, she emerged with a battered wooden box. Quickly snagging a hymnal from the back of the nearest pew, she leafed through the green book and set it open on the seat. From a board set with pegs that hung on the wall near the front, she removed three thin plaques with numbers on them and replaced them with new ones. Setting the old numbers in the box, she crossed the front of the sanctuary to the other side and repeated the process with an identical board on that side.

“Is that where the hymns of the day are posted?” he asked

“Yes,” she snapped, her voice clipped. Anger seemed to radiate off her.

“Do you normally set them?”

“Of course. I'm the organist.” Her sharp tone made him feel like an imbecile.

“Well, don't you think it's a good idea for me to know how it works? In case you were ill or out of town or something?” Cody tried to suppress his irritation at her unexpected prickliness by reciting the fruits of the spirit in his mind. Love, joy, peace…

“I suppose. The numbers are in the box. They hang on the pegs. The box is on the shelf in the storage room, next to the crowns.”

“Crowns?”

“For Christmas plays,” she drawled, as though any child would know that's what they were for.

Patience, kindness, goodness… “Of course. Thank you, Miss Heitschmidt.”

“Is there anything else, or may I go and practice now?”

“No, that's it.”

She stomped up the stairs hard enough to make the wood rattle.

Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Oh Lord, grant me self-control with this woman. She switches from pleasant to surly without warning.

The organ began to hum, and a moment later, Kristina crashed out a loud and dissonant chord. It startled him so much he banged his knee on the pulpit.

He scowled at her, but of course, she had her back to him and couldn't see. He knew she had heard the reverberation of flesh against hollow wood though. He could imagine her smirk.

Shaking his head and rubbing his developing bruise, he checked for the hundredth time to be sure his notes were in order. Then, glancing at his pocket watch, he pulled on his borrowed coat and headed to the door to greet the arrivals.

James Heitschmidt ambled up the street and mounted the stairs. He shook Cody's hand and greeted him warmly.

Next came a family with three daughters who appeared to be in their early twenties: pretty blonds with warm brown eyes and rather vacant expressions. They wore matching blue wool pea coats and matching insipid smiles.

I wonder how I'll ever tell them apart. They look like they were rolled out on a printing press. Their mother, a shrewd, dark-eyed woman, introduced them as April, May, and June. He tried not to roll his eyes, especially when he learned their last name was Day.

Another family approached, then another. Next, a dark-haired man with a pencil-thin mustache escorted an attractive woman through the door. A teenage boy and a young woman with striking blue eyes in a lovely face trailed after him. A wisp of black hair slipped out from under the young woman's white knitted hat.

 

Heritage And Honor by Pamela D. Hart

Book excerpt

Outside the Broken Spur, Charley mounted Omega and kicked her into a full gallop. She wanted to get to the Bar M. Home. It would shield her from handsome strangers, who were a mixture of gallantry and boorishness. And it would protect her from Jesse, who was up to God knew what.

Charley took the main trail to the ranch. Trees lined both sides of the path, creating a canopy against the late afternoon sun. It didn’t take long for her house to come into view.

It was a large house. Two stories high and ornate in many ways, with its columns and numerous French doors. But it had always been home to Charley. A place she’d felt safe. She'd always felt loved growing up in the grand Bar M house.

Charley rode the short distance to the courtyard, thoughts still awhirl. Jesse was back. Her stomach tightened. Aunt Lydia would catch on that something had happened. Charley didn’t want to explain Jesse just yet. And she didn’t want to explain the stranger at all. He’d unnerved her.

He was a fine-looking man. Charley wouldn’t deny that: tall and bold, with green eyes that had stared straight into her soul. His clothing had stretched taut across muscle and sinew, touting power and virility. He emitted dominance. Damn him.

Charley dismounted in front of the veranda. I will not think of him. She tethered Omega to a post by the front steps. Cal, their most loyal ranch hand, would take care of her precious animal. Charley patted Omega’s rump, then made her way to the front door.

She closed the door with a soft click and looked around the grand foyer. No sign of her sister Katherine or Aunt Lydia. She crept across the marble floor to the parlor. Once her boots hit the carpet, she walked to the liquor table near the French door. She poured herself a brandy and swirled the amber liquid in the glass.

Jesse Gardner was back.

 

Wild Horses On The Salt by Anne Montgomery

Book excerpt

Becca leaned into the pillows, leaving the unopened mailer on her lap. What was it? Some apology, no doubt. Tangible evidence asserting his heartfelt love for her. A talisman intended to vanquish all prior misdeeds and which Becca was required to accept without argument. Her forgiveness a given.

How many times had he appeared, almost boy-like, offering a “special” gift meant to erase the horrible words and bruises and broken bones and chipped teeth? His choices were almost comical in that the items were always creations of gold and diamonds, in which Becca had no interest. Money had not meant much to her, though she had been raised to believe a hefty bank account and the trappings that accompanied wealth defined success.

Her parents had been so delighted at her engagement to such a well-off and charming man.

“And isn't he handsome?” her mother would say to her female friends, women he would regale with funny stories and with whom he would flirt unabashedly.

When Becca had finally told her mother the truth, she'd been meet with a chilly silence.

“And so…what will you do?” Her mother had gazed from the comfort of the massive coach in the family's well-appointed living room in Short Hills, New Jersey.

“I'm not sure.” Becca had turned to the bay window that overlooked colorful, manicured foliage in the backyard, an image that could have been ripped from a page in a home and garden magazine.

“You know, if you had listened to me and your father, you'd be making a lot of money and…”

“I hated it, Mom! I did not want to be a lawyer! Ever!”

“I don't know why. Your father was happy to make a place for you at the firm. It's not like you even had to go out and look for a job.” She'd settled into the plush pillows and crossed one leg elegantly over the other.

“I wanted to be…”

“An artist. Yes, I know,” her mother had said wearily. “How many times do we need to have this conversation? How would you support yourself?” She didn't give Becca the chance to answer. “And now you don't want to take advantage of the fact that a rich, handsome, successful man wants to marry you. I just don't understand.” Her mother sighed.

Becca held out both hands in a plea.

“You can't have everything, Becca. Women must take the good with the bad.”

“As you have done?” Becca raised her eyebrows.

“What goes on between your father and me is our business…not yours.” She frowned, then took a breath and produced a small, sad smile, courtesy of some instant internal adjustment. “We have given you everything. We paid for your education, which you have just thrown away. And now you want me to cancel a wedding, into which I've put an immense amount of time, effort, and money. How did you become so selfish, Rebecca?”

Becca blinked away the memory and tore open the package. Inside she found a note card embossed with gold edging and inscribed in his precise handwriting.

 

There you go: the best western romance novels from Next Chapter in March 2023. We hope you enjoy the stories - and if you do, please leave a comment below, or a review in Goodreads or your favorite store. It would mean a lot to us!

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