How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
What happens to military and law enforcement dogs who are retired? Some of the lucky ones are adopted, maybe by their previous partners. But due to the services they provided when on duty, they often need specialized care. Hurricane’s Heroes help with that. Hurricane’s Heroes “…provides ‘retired law enforcement and military dogs’ with subsidized veterinary care so they can live a long and healthy life. Often these incredible dogs are the unsung heroes behind the operations put in place to keep us safe.”
Dog handlers and the rest of the team depend on the skills of these remarkable animals. I’m looking forward to contributing to their chance to retire and be “just dogs.”
I can’t think right off of a book I’ve written that has a dog, but I have one that features a horse, so that’s what I’m featuring today.
Regan, Book 1 of the Sisters O’Ryan series
Blurb:
Joining in the westward migration, Davey and Regan O’Ryan Stone bought an Oregon farm sight unseen, hungering for adventure. Davey regretted the impulse far past the point of no return, and then he died. Now, unskilled and alone on her farm, Regan fears going home a failure—as a daughter, a wife and a farmer. With money quickly running out, she gladly accepts the offer of help from Seth Pratt, an acquaintance from the wagon train, and his friend Haywood Lawrence.
One-armed Seth seeks work at the remote farm at the end of an Oregon trail with low expectations. When he finds Regan, alone and widowed, he tamps down desire. She deserves better than a man handicapped in war, searching for his soul. She’s worthy of someone like his Shakespeare-spouting, best friend, Hay. Nothing could have prepared Seth for Regan’s simple solution—that both men stay. On the farm and in her bed.
“I might not have recognized her right off, but I sure haven’t ever forgotten her, Koda,” he whispered. “She’s alone out here, and she needs help.” The horse nodded his head and then whinnied. “You’re right,” Seth conceded. “It’s too much to think there’s a place for me here.”
Excerpt:
Koda stomped his front left hoof and shook his mane, before calmly munching on another mouthful of hay.
Seth clicked his tongue. “I know. There’s no need my arguing with the notion.”
“So you do carry on conversations with your horse, Mr. Pratt.”
Seth spun around, dropping the brush. “Mrs. Stone. I didn’t hear you.”
She smiled. “I only came down to make sure you found everything to your satisfaction.”
“The bunkroom is nice, and Koda is very happy with his stall.”
She stepped forward and stroked the Appaloosa’s nose. “He’s beautiful. What does Koda mean?”
“It’s Sioux for friend.”
“Well named.” Regan took a carrot from her pocket and fed it to the horse. She gestured toward the pinto in the neighboring stall. “That’s Twinkle. It’s Carolinian for she makes my eyes shine. At least according to my daddy. He says when he gave her to me for my fifteenth birthday, my eyes lit up. He named the horse on the spot.” She strolled over to feed Twinkle a carrot, too.
Hay came around the stall and leaned on the post. Seth didn’t care at all for the familiar way his eyes followed Regan Stone’s every movement. Then Seth leaned against Koda and gave in, watching her graceful walk. Her voice fell on his ears like a melody. Auburn tendrils escaped from a loose bun and framed her small, round face. Her father had named the horse aptly. Her eyes did twinkle, but not just when she looked at the pinto. Her height lent her a regal air. He longed to hold her against him. With her slender frame and unusual height, they would fit perfectly.
Don’t think about it. It will never happen. Daydreams aside, the differences in their social stature and culture leapt out at him. Still, arousal struck just watching her stroke her horse’s nose. He imagined her stroking him and gasped at the flame of desire that struck. When she swung back toward him he thought she must have heard.
“I almost forgot!” She smiled over Seth’s shoulder to the next stall. “Here’s a carrot for your horse, too, Hay.” Then she walked to the end stall where another horse stood quietly. “And one for you, Jethro.”
Seth didn’t think to wonder about the fourth horse in the barn. His conscious thought stopped when she called Hay Hay. Seth knew her first, or knew of her, more accurately, and that scoundrel had worked his charm on her to the point she already used his nickname. Good thing he was leaving. The knowledge that Hay would soon be far from Regan took the sting out of the fact that he, too, had to go now that there was no job.
“…I’ll see you then,” she said.
What had she said? His indignation over her use of Hay had waylaid his mind. “All right,” he replied, hoping he wouldn’t end up making a damn fool of himself.
With another smile, she strode from the barn leaving Seth in more emotional turmoil than he’d known in years.
“Now there’s a nice lady,” Hay said.
“She’s awright.” Seth vigorously set to work on Koda’s coat, not wanting to talk to Hay about anything right now, but especially not about Regan.
“All right? Bullshit, my taciturn friend. Too bad there’s no job after all. I might have considered staying on for awhile myself.”
“Right, too bad.”
Hay’s laugh came through the wooden slats. “I think she likes you.”
“Sure. Talk about bullshit.” Since coming home from the war, Seth made a habit of not meeting people’s eyes. Pity filled others’ expressions all too often and he didn’t like dealing with it. His heart had stuttered when he took a good look at the woman standing at the foot of the porch steps. Regan Stone had made an impression that one, brief time they’d met, but he’d kept his distance after that.
“She remembered you. She didn’t remember me. We were on that wagon train together, weren’t we?”
She had remembered him, hadn’t she? “Not hard to recollect a man with one arm. As for you, too bad you’re so damn forgettable.”
Hay laughed again. His laughter was one reason Seth enjoyed his company so much. Though he rarely engaged in the activity, he couldn’t help thinking his soul benefitted from the sound.
“You and I both know too many ladies along our path who disprove that theory,” Hay taunted.
“You have left quite an impression on the women of the west. Not all of it favorable, I might add.”
“Still, I wouldn’t mind rolling around the bed with our lovely widow. I wonder if she would consider—”
Before he could utter another word, Seth had Hay pinned to the stall. “You will not touch her in a frivolous manner. She’s no light skirt, you bastard.”
Hay’s face split into a wide grin. “I knew it. You like her, too.”
“She’s a widda, for God’s sake. Not even out of mournin’.”
“I know,” Hay said softly. “I was only shittin’ you.”
Seth huffed and let Hay go. “Yeah, well, go to hell.”
Hay slapped Seth’s back. “I think you have a touch of lovesickness, man. Maybe you should give up this idea of settling down and come with me to the coast. There’s bound to be something exciting for a couple of troublemakers like us that will take your mind off the beautiful widow.”
“I think I’ll stick it out around here for a while. Maybe look in town for a job.”
Hay shook his head. “She has you flustered, I can tell.”
Seth went back to finish Koda. “How?”
“You rarely talk to a person this much.” Hay chuckled and picked up his jacket.
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While I have dipped my toe into the future and the past with my writing, I feel most comfortable writing in present, contemporary time. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy? I don’t know. But writing historical fiction takes a fair amount of research if your books come out sounding true. And there’s a lot to keep up with if you build future worlds. (Same is true if you create series in contemporary time, I’ve discovered!) But because of our trucking years, we traveled over a lot of the country and I feel pretty happy drawing on our experiences to write about all kinds of locations.
is that we are telling a story. Make it a good one. Show, don’t tell, Engage the reader’s emotions. Have a great beginning, middle, and end. Mind your craft (grammar, punctuation, POV, etc.). Pay attention to details. If you do these things, you will be read (which is what we all want) regardless of the time period you choose.
I told Jack once that if our marriage ever ended for whatever reason, I would never date again—I’d enter a convent. That convent part might have been a bit of hyperbole, but I was pretty serious about never dating again. Dating takes a lot of effort. And time. Do you know how long it takes to feel comfortable enough with someone before you don’t die of embarrassment if you accidentally let go a little wind? No thanks. I dated for a few years in my life and that was plenty enough. Been there, done that, got the tee shirt.
either. Women should meet guys and be disappointed—or thrilled—the old-fashioned way, face-to-face.
Excerpt:
My first trip outside the U.S. was when Jack and I were traveling. We went into Canada a fair amount. We didn’t have much time to sightsee or have fun except once, when we rented a car and drove from Calgary to Banff and up the Icefield Parkway to Jasper. What a great time! Besides the scenery, the park at Jasper had opened a little early. We were just about the only guests in the restaurant—where Jack had trout they’d caught in the river practically outside the door. The cabins where we stayed were close enough to hear the rushing water as the spring snowmelt headed downstream. The trip was only for a weekend but it was so special that I remember it as though it were yesterday.
times. Each has been an enlightening experience. I love Scotland! The people are so friendly and the country feels like home to me. Maybe in another time and another life…? England proper is also wonderful. What a great city York is! So walkable, so historical. I loved my time there. The same for Oxford, where I attended the OxBridge program for teachers one summer. However, I wished Oxford had a few more benches around!
My sister-in-law talked me into going to Italy several years ago. To tell the truth, I wasn’t all that excited to see Italy, but she wanted someone to go with her and Jack encouraged me, so I went. She promised that once I saw Italy I’d want to go back again. The woman spoke truth! We spent time in Venice, Florence, and Rome, Each city was so different, and yet so the same. So much history, so much art. Too much to take in, in any one visit—or two or ten.
It used to be a tradition in Jack’s family to give 
though, that someone has matched personalities to chocolate, and I was right. I found two sites that explain how which chocolate we pick from the box shows something about us. For me, I’m an introvert (I pick the squares and rectangles), and I’m happy (caramel). Since it doesn’t matter whether the chocolate is dark or milk—as long as there’s caramel inside—I can be either a hard charger up for a challenge (dark) or relaxed and romantic (milk). It depends on the day, I suppose.
Excerpt:
Jack and I have only bought two new cars in our nearly 50 years together. But whether we buy new or used, we aren’t “brand” buyers. I know people who would only buy a Ford or Chevy, but we’re equal opportunity buyers. If the car is right and the price is right, we’ll bite. Frankly, I don’t care who built the car I buy. I want it to go from point A to point B with the minimum of trouble and discomfort. If it does that, I’m happy.
dealership in Richmond. When we returned to KC it was with a brand new Jeep Eagle. They didn’t make many of them or for very long, more’s the pity. We loved our Eagle, and only gave it up when we moved to San Francisco and having a car—any car—was so very impractical.
Excerpt: