Category: New Releases

The Harvest Festival — Our Native American Roots

Yummmmm…  Autumn — crisp air, scented delicately with falling leaves and the smoke from wood stoves;  Cinnamon and fresh apple cider, pumpkin pie, turkey and cranberry sauce, apple pie, the last of the corn on the cob…

And what about the “feels” of autumn? Traipsing through leaves, racking them up and jumping in them; picking up a leaf and tracing its pattern; warm days, cool nights, the pleasure of feeling Mother Earth prepare for a few months’ sleep.

And how about the sounds of autumn?  Cold nights and warm blankets, football games announcing the players; the sounds of cheerleaders and marching bands; long practices — even the quiet sound of leaves falling to the ground.  How I love it.

thanksgivingOf course, to the people who lived close to the earth, these were all the beauties of autumn, also.  So much was this the case that an entire festival of fun and merriment was devoted to autumn — and that festival was called the Harvest Festival.

Of course we are all pretty much aware that our Thanksgiving comes from the Eastern Indians, and in particular Squanto — and if you didn’t know about Squanto, I would highly recommend the movie, Squanto, starring a young and dreamy Adam Beach.  Sigh…

But what was this festival called Thanksgiving?  Did it happen just this one time?  Or was this Thanksgiving part of an ancient celebration of the American Indians to give Thanks to He who is known as the Creator.

Thanksgiving was one of several festivals amongst the Eastern Indians — in particular I’m talking about the Iroquois.  However, these ceremonies were common to all the Eastern tribes.  There were many festivals throughout the year, and they tended to follow the seasons.

The Iroquois celebrated six festivals, wherein they gave thanks to the Creator for all they had.  These festivals would open with speeches by leaders, teachers, and elders.  And of course there was much dancing, which was done not only for the fun of simply dancing, but it was also a sense of worship.  It was thought that because the Creator needed some sort of amusement, He gave the people dancing.  Let me tell you a little about some of these celebrations.

In spring — early March — it was time to collect together tree bark and sap – this was needed to repair houses and other things, such as canoes, bowls, etc.   Spring was also the time for planting.  This was the maple festival.  Next was the Planting festival.  Here prayers were sent to the Creator to bless their seed.

The Iroquois’ main food source was corn, beans and squash (the three sisters), and of course deer meat or other meat when available.  Family gardens were separated by borders that were broad and grassy — they would even camp on these borders and sometimes they were raise watch towers.

The next festival of the Iroquois was the Strawberry Festival.  This is where the people gave thanks to the Creator for their many fruits (like strawberries).  It was summertime.  The women gathered wild nuts and other foods, while the men hunted, fished and provided various meats for cooking.  Again, each festival was greeted with much dancing and merriment.  Did you know that the some Iroquois believed the way to the Creator was paved with strawberries?

The festival after that was the Green Corn Fesitval.  Again, the people thanked the Creator for the bounty of food that had been raised all through the summer.  Dancers danced to please the Creator and musicians sang and beat the drum.  Again there were many speeches to honor the people and the Creator.  There were team sports.  Lacrosse was the game that was most admired and it was played with great abandon by the men.  Women played games, too and often their games were as competitive as the men’s.

The season festival following that was…are you ready?  You’re right — The Harvest Festival.  By this time the women had harvested the corn, beans and squash.  Much of it would be dried.  Much went to feed families.  Husks were made into many different items.  Dolls, rugs, mats.  Did you know that the dolls didn’t have faces?  Now was the time to gather more nuts and berries.  Men were busy, too, hunting far away.  Bear, moose, beaver were all sought after and hunted.  Again, there was much celebration.  Dancing, speeches, prayer.  And of course — food.  It was this particular festival that was shared with the newcomers to this continent.

Can you guess what the next festival was?  Although this is a Christmas tree, it was not a celebration of Christmas — but if you guessed this, you were very close.  The next and last festival of the year was New Year’s.  At this time, a white dog was sacrificed as a gift to the Creator.  This was also a time for renewing the mind and body.  (Does that not remind you of our New Year’s resolutions?)  At this time, the False Face Society members would wear masks to help others to cleanse themselves of their bad minds and restore only their good minds.  There was again much celebration, much dancing, much merriment and enjoyment as each person would settle in for the long winter ahead of them.

The First Americans indeed did give this country very much, not only its festivals which we still remember to this day, but also it gave to this nation a fighting spirit for freedom.  In these times when there seems to be a forgetfulness about our American roots, it is wonderful to remember that the American Indian and the Love of Freedom went hand-in-hand.  What seems interesting to me is that our Thanksgiving festival still honors the custom of giving thanks for those gifts that He, The Creator, has given us.  To the American Indian all of these festivals contained this special element — that of giving Thanks to our Maker.

Perhaps it’s only because this one festival was shared by American Indian and Colonist alike that set the tone of Thanksgiving for future generations.  And I do believe that the love of autumn and giving thanks for that which belongs to us has its roots in The Harvest Festival, so beloved to the Eastern Indian Tribes.

What do you think?

Be sure to leave a comment to be entered into the free give-away.  Giveaway Guidelines are off to the right here on this page.

As an aside, for a short time the book, WOLF SHADOW’S PROMISE, Book # 4 in the Legendary Warrior series, is on pre-order sale.  It’s due to be released to KindleUnlimited October 1st.  While I don’t yet have a link to share with you, I do have the gorgeous cover, and so I thought I’d let you have a peek at it before it goes up for sale.

Christmas in a Cowboy’s Arms & Book Giveaway

Christmas in a Cowboy’s Arm will be released on October 3rd.  Don’t you just love that title?  I’m so excited to be part of the collection, which also includes stories by Leigh Greenwood and our very own Linda Broday!

My story is titled A Texas Ranger for Christmas and I’m giving away a copy (giveaway guidelines apply). So be sure to leave a comment.  Here’s a sneak peek: 

Sadie had just put Adam down for his afternoon nap that second week in December when a hammering sound drew her to the kitchen window.

“Dang that man!” Now the ranger was on the barn roof hammering down shingles. Last week, after he’d spent the day repairing the fence, he’d run a fever and had to spend two days in bed.

Now here he was at it again, overdoing it.

She pulled a woolen shawl from a peg by the back door and stepped outside. The wind was cold and angry clouds crowded in from the north like a bunch of wooly sheep.

Upon reaching the barn, she yelled up to him. “If you fall and break your neck, don’t come runnin’ to me!”

He peered over the edge of the roof. His nose was red from the cold and his hair tossed about like sails in the wind, but he sure was a sight for sore eyes. “I guess I’d just have to wait ‘till your friend Scooter comes.”

She balled her hands at her side. “I’d think you’d have a little consideration for my reputation.”

His eyebrows quirked upward. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“How do you think it looks for a woman to entertain a man that’s not her husband?”

She’d not yet told anyone of Richard’s death. She didn’t want friends and neighbors coming to her door to express condolences until after the ranger was long gone.

He shrugged. “Isn’t it a little late to worry about that?  Some of your neighbors already know I’m here.”

“I told them my husband sent you here to recover from your bullet wound.”

“Your husband sent me? That might be hard to explain when the truth comes out that he’s dead.”

“That’s my problem.”  She tossed her head.   “I mean, it Captain.” She grabbed hold of the ladder and gave it a good shaking. “If you don’t come down, I’ll see that you’re stuck up there for good!”

“Why, Mrs. Carnes, is that a threat?”

She glared up at him. “You’ve already had one relapse and I’m not about to take care of you for another. So what’s it gonna be?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll come down, but only on one condition.”

She straightened, hands at her waist. “What?”
“You stop calling me captain. My name is Cole.”

“Not gonna happen,” she said. Calling him by his given name would only strengthen the bond between them, and she couldn’t let that happen. It was hard enough trying not to like the man more than was absolutely necessary.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I never name an animal I plan on eating, and I sure don’t aim on naming a man who’ll soon be gone.”

“All right, Mrs. Carnes. Have it your way. But could you at least tell me what your Christian name is? I promise not to use it unless you say it’s okay.”

She chewed on a bottom lip. “Sadie,” she said. “And I don’t want you calling me that, you hear?”

“Nice name,” he said. “It suits you.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that and she wasn’t about to ask. “So what’s it gonna be, Captain?” She grabbed hold of the ladder and rattled it. “You coming down or ain’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll come down, Mrs. Carnes.  But only because I don’t want you complaining about me to your dead husband.”

Short stories and novellas are popular around the holidays.  I don’t mind writing short, but I prefer reading full-length novels. Which do you prefer?  Also, has a short story ever inspired you to check out the author’s novels?

What do you call Christmas in a Cowboy’s Arms?
Heavenly!

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Updated: September 21, 2017 — 9:39 am

Wrangling the Rancher by Jeannie Watt

Hi everyone and Happy Wednesday! I’m thrilled to have a new release this month. My latest Harlequin Superromance has one of my favorite tropes–city girl, country guy. (Although I admit to also loving city guy, country girl.)  In the story, I have a down to earth guy who has worked for the family guest ranch long enough to be sick and tired of wealthy, privileged people. He finally makes an escape and leases a farm, only to have the granddaughter of the guy he leased from move in…and she just happens to be a privileged city girl–the bane of his existence.

Here’s an excerpt:

Cole was drinking coffee when he heard the sound of an engine. He glanced at the clock and frowned. Five thirty seemed too early for a social call…maybe the granddaughter had once again called law enforcement?

He set down his cup and went to the door. The car that pulled up was low slung and sexy. A thin coat of dust covered the silver finish, but it was obviously a car that had been well cared for. The woman climbing out of the driver’s side wasn’t that tall, but she was fit and sexy, with long blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. She perfectly matched the vehicle. She shaded her eyes when she caught sight of him standing on the porch watching her, then squared her shoulders and marched toward him.

The granddaughter. This should prove interesting.

Cole leaned against the newel post and waited. A guy didn’t spend eight years working on a guest ranch without learning to both read people and deal with them effectively. His read on this woman—simmering anger. Frustration. In need of a scapegoat for…something. No question as to whom that scapegoat might be.

“Hi,” he said when she hit the end of the broken-up walkway. “Want some coffee?”

Her brisk steps slowed. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I’m guessing that you’re Karl’s granddaughter.” He jerked his head toward the house. “I just made a fresh pot.” He ran his gaze over her. “You look like you could use a cup.”

Her bemused expression changed to something approaching a smirk. “Thanks.”

With a casual shrug, he opened the door. The woman hesitated, then preceded him into the house.

“It hasn’t changed much,” she said.

“Why would I change it?”

She shot him a look. “I guess that depends on why you’re here.”

He went into the kitchen and pulled a second mug down from the cupboard near the sink. “I’m here to farm. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to check on the welfare of my grandfather.”

“Then,” he asked in a reasonable voice before handing her the steaming cup, “why aren’t you in Dillon, where your grandfather is?”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. A woman used to playing her hand carefully. “That is where I’m going.”

“Just thought you’d stop by? Introduce yourself?” He set down his own coffee and held out a hand. “Cole Bryan.”

She returned his handshake. “Taylor Evans.”

“Nice to meet you, Taylor. And thanks for calling the deputies on me.”

“I didn’t have a lot of choice. My aunt wouldn’t answer her phone, you answered my grandfather’s phone and I was concerned.”

“Yet not concerned enough to keep closer tabs on your grandfather over the past several months.”

Her expression iced over. “There were circumstances at play there.” He lifted his eyebrows politely. “Private circumstances,” she said in a tone indicating that if he had any manners at all, he would stop the questions now.

He took a sip of coffee. If she thought cool superiority was going to make him remember his place, she had another think coming. Having worked with a master of the freeze strategy—his step-aunt and former boss, Miranda Bryan—she was going to have to do better than this.

“Are you satisfied now that all is well?”

He could tell the word no teetered on the edge of her lips, but she caught it before it fell. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re here in the house. My grandfather said he doesn’t think he’ll be in Dillon for all that long.”

“Maybe your grandfather is lonely and would like a roommate.”

“My grandfather is not the roommate kind.”

“You sound certain.”

“I know him.”

“Yet you didn’t know he moved.”

Irritation flashed across her features. “Would you stop bringing that up?”

“Sorry.” He set down his cup and gripped the counter on each side of his hips. “Maybe if you told me why you’re here, I can help you out, and then you can continue on to Dillon.”

She smiled tightly. “Yes. What a great idea. I wanted to meet you.”

“Make sure I was on the up-and-up?”

“My grandfather always leased his land to the neighbor to farm. I understand the neighbor is still farming.”

“Are you suggesting that I might have persuaded him to lease to me instead?”

She gave a small shrug. “The thought crossed my mind.”

“I did.”

Her eyes widened, and it took her a few seconds to say, “How long have you known my grandfather?”

“He used to cowboy with my grandfather a long time ago.”

“Karl never was a cowboy.”

Cole said nothing. He wasn’t going to argue the point.

Her eyebrows drew together. “Not that I knew of anyway.”

A slight step back, which gave her a couple of points in his book. “I didn’t use any kind of coercion. I just…talked to him.”

“And ended up living in his house. Using his stuff.”

“I’m a smooth talker.” And since her suspicions—her attitude, really—was starting to tick him off, he saw no reason to mention that Karl had been concerned about the place being broken into during his absence. Having Cole living there solved a problem for both of them, but too much explaining was only going to give her more to latch onto. He glanced past Taylor to the teapot-shaped clock on the wall. “I also have to get to work.”

“You have a job?”

“Yes,” he said in his patient guest-ranch-manager voice. “I’m a farmer.”

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. If you want to know more, please follow one of the following links:

Amazon   Barnes & Noble   Kobo   Google Play   iTunes

Go West, young man!

We’re thrilled to have Becca Whitham with us today. In Becca’s own words, she’s an author, paper crafter, and Army wife who resides in South Carolina with her husband of more than 30 years and a 12-foot-long craft cabinet she thinks should count as a dependent. So far, neither the army nor the IRS are convinced. In between moves from one part of the country to the other, she writes stories combining faith and fiction that touch the heart. You can find her online at http://www.beccawhitham.com or on her paper crafting blog at http://www.becca-expressions.blogspot.com.

“Go West, young man!”

This was the solution to every disappointed hope of the mid-late 1800s. Did your crops fail? Go West. Were you too poor to own your own land? Go West. Had your life taken you in a direction you didn’t like? Go West!

This solution appealed to women as well as men because there’s a universality about thinking the grass will be greener, the situation better, and life easier if we could start somewhere fresh and leave all our mistakes behind.

But what if you gave up everything to make the journey only to discover that your situation is now worse?

In The Promised Bride, Emilia Stanek leaves the stench of Chicago for the wide-open space of Montana as a mail-order bride because she’s sure being the wife of Finn Collins—a man she’s fallen in love with through letters—will solve everything from her father’s ailing health to her brother’s involvement with a gang of boys she doesn’t like. Except, when she arrives in Helena expecting to meet her new husband, she’s greeted by the county sheriff instead and told that Finn was murdered the day before. Not only that, he left behind considerable debts which she’ll be responsible to pay if she files the paperwork formalizing her proxy marriage.

“This mail-order bride novel as it all – likeable characters, intriguing suspense, a dash of wry humor, and a swoon-worthy romance!”– RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars

With nothing left for her back home, Emilia stays. As you’ve probably guessed, she also falls in love with the gruff county sheriff, Mac McCall, over the course of the story. I know. Spoiler. But you don’t read a romance novel to find out how it ends, you read it to enjoy the journey.

When Gina Welborn and I first brainstormed this story, we wanted to use the past to speak into today. Mail-order brides of the 1800s were all too often greeted on the other end of their journey by pimps and madams who had tricked them into a life of sexual slavery—which is the same way predators use Facebook, Twitter, ShapChat, Craigslist, and other online sites to lure young girls, in particular, into sex trafficking. The problem is epidemic. According to wearethorn.org, 100,000 new ads for “escorts” are posted every day, and 63 percent of children rescued from sex trafficking report that they were approached via an online source.

As Mac says, anyone can be anything in a letter…or online.

Although there’s no mystery that Mac and Emilia end up together, there is one regarding Finn. Did he fool Emilia into a marriage that would have ended with her being sold into a brothel? Would she have been better off staying in Chicago and using her energy to find solutions there? We didn’t solve this mystery easily. We wanted readers to wrestle with Finn, his intentions, and Emilia’s decision to trust the written words of a man she’d never actually met.

Sometimes it is a good idea to go West—to start over and start fresh in a new place. But sometimes the best solution is to stay put and figure out how to make your life better where you are right now.

For a chance to win a copy of The Promise Bride, please leave a comment telling us a challenge you are currently facing or a way lessons from the past apply to today.

 

 

Just a Farm Girl

A few weeks ago when I received an invitation to join the fabulous Fillies here at Petticoats & Pistols, I had to read it three times before I could fully latch onto the fact that I was going to be a Filly!

From the first time these wonderful ladies asked me to be a guest on the blog, I’ve been so impressed with them and the great community they’ve built here. And now I get to be part of it!  It’s hard to picture this lil’ ol’ farm girl getting to hang out here, but I’m sure excited to be counted among the Fillies.

Circa 1970-something… me with a fawn our neighbor rescued

I’ve possessed a love of books, reading, and creating stories for as long as I can remember. I also loved growing up on a farm where my dad let me tag after him all the time. (You can find a few of our adventures together in Farm Girl – humorous takes on true things that happened during my childhood.)

In fact, he kept a blanket, one of my baby dolls, storybooks, and a supply of candy in the swather so I could ride with him whenever it was hay-cutting time.

While I trailed Dad like a shadow, I learned about rural life, country living, cowboys, and heroes.

Much of what I saw, experienced, and lived during my formative years is woven into the threads of the sweet contemporary and historical stories I write.  My 50th book just released last week, so I’ve had  many opportunities to incorporate a variety of details from my background, but there’s one thing I keep circling my wagon around.

The heroes in my books are often rugged guys who can be a little rough around the edges, but they generally hold a healthy respect toward women and stick to an unspoken code of chivalry we may never know or decipher.

While some may think these types of men exist only in my fertile imagination, I know they are real. Honestly, they continually inspire me.

My own beloved husband, Captain Cavedweller, is a great source of gallant deeds. Although he isn’t much of a talker, if I can get him to be serious for five minutes, he typically manages to say something that melts my heart. (But don’t tell him I shared that with you. I think that breaks rule #63 in the code.)

When I look for validation that the code is alive and well in others of the male species beyond Captain Cavedweller, I find it.

For example, I recently met a PRCA bull rider. He’d never seen me before. Didn’t know me from Adam’s off ox. In fact, he couldn’t be blamed if he was full of himself since he’s quite successful in his line of work. The opposite seemed true, though. When we were introduced, he quickly snatched off his hat, politely tipped his head, and called me “ma’am.” Respectful, kind, and genuine are words I could easily use to describe him. He couldn’t have been more mannerly if Miss Etiquette had been whispering in his ear.

In one of my contemporary romances, Learnin’ The Ropes, the bossy, crusty ranch foreman outlines what he believes to be the code all men should live by to the new greenhorn his boss hired.

The rules are as follows:

  1. Once you give your word and a handshake, it’s as binding as signing a contract.
  2. Never betray a trust.
  3. Never lie, cheat or steal.
  4. Treat all children, animals, and old folks like you want to be treated.
  5. Call your elders sir and ma’am.
  6. Treat women with respect and care.
  7. Always tip your hat to a lady and take it off at the dinner table and in church.
  8. Work hard and give your boss an honest day for your pay.
  9. If someone needs a hand, lend yours to the task.
  10. Respect the flag and our nation.
  11. Be clean – both on the outside and inside of your person.
  12. Never stop learning.
  13. Never make fun of someone who gave it their best.
  14. Never wear your spurs or dirty boots in the house.
  15. Fight fair, be brave, and stand up for what’s right.

Despite what others might say, the Cowboy Code rides on. I’m so, so glad it does.  I need those amazing heroes to counter the strong, independent, sassy women in the stories I write. A milksop hero just won’t do for them. Nope, not at all.

I think one of the reasons we love to read western romances is because the stories and characters are full of  strength, hope, and love. My new release, set in the Wild West town of Pendleton, Oregon, during WWII, centers on the theme of hope.

In the story, (based on the famous Doolittle Raid… did you know 79 of the 80 men on the mission were based at Pendleton? I should probably provide ample warning that I love researching historical details for my stories!) our hero, Klayne, is convinced he’s going to die on a secret mission. Desperate to leave something, someone, behind, he talks a rancher’s daughter into marrying him, in name only, of course. Too bad Delaney has far different plans…

As a thank you for joining us today, I hope you’ll download a free copy of Heart of Clay, the very first romance I wrote.

Easy-going cowboy Clay Matthews is a respected college professor. He’s the man family and friends turn to for help, or when they need a good laugh.  Life would be almost perfect if he could figure out the mysterious, mind-boggling woman who was his wife…

Amazon – https://amzn.com/B0056QJHQ6
Barnes & Noble –http://tinyurl.com/heartofclaybn
Apple – https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/heart-of-clay/id464331140?mt=11
Kobo – https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/heart-of-clay

I’m also going to give away one autographed paperback copy of Learnin’ The Ropes with some fun swag.

To enter for a chance to win, please post a comment sharing one of your favorite childhood memories!

 

Ranch Names and a Giveaway!

I’m so excited! I have a new book out tomorrow! Actually, this is a re-release of a 2002 book but since it got no exposure back then, this is like brand new. It’s the first in a series called Texas Heroes and is about a cowboy with nothing to live for who wins a baby in a poker game. I’ll tell you more about it further down. 

Some ranches have the strangest names but they must mean something to the owner. The ones I put in my stories all do. But some that I see when I drive down the road leave me scratching my head.

In the anthology Give Me a Texas Cowboy, Jack’s Bluff was the name of the ranch in my and Phyliss’s stories. Jack, one of Tempest LeDoux’s many husbands, won the ranch after buffing in a card game. We thought it was perfect name for her ranch.

Here are a few of the others I’ve used:

Long Odds – Texas Mail Order Bride

Last Hope – Twice a Texas Bride

Wild Horse – Forever His Texas Bride

Lone Star – Men of Legend series

Each one told a lot about the owner. Duel McClain in Knight on the Texas Plains names his ranch Aces ’n Eights later on in Book #3 of this Texas Heroes series.

The name means so much to him. It’s the hand he wins baby Marley Rose with and he doesn’t ever want to forget how she comes into his life. That baby girl gives him the will to live again.

Aces ’n Eights is also called the Deadman’s Hand and is comprised of a pair of black aces, black eights and a hole card. It was called the Deadman’s hand because those were the cards Wild Bill Hickok was holding when he was shot and killed. His hole card was the Queen of Hearts.

Here’s the back blurb for this book:

Duel McClain has lost everything he’s ever loved: his wife, his son, his sense of self. But when a strange twist of fate—and a poker game he’ll never forget—leaves an innocent little girl in his care, Duel vows to defend his new family to his very last breath. If only he knew a single thing about taking care of babies…

Just as Duel swears his life can’t get any more complicated, a beautiful woman stumbles into the light of his campfire, desperate for help. Jessie Foltry is hungry, tired, and running for her life. She agrees to help Duel care for the child in exchange for his protection, even as she fights to guard her broken heart. But Duel will do whatever it takes to make Jessie see that the Texas plains have more than one kind of knight, and perhaps their salvation is closer than either of them could have dreamed…

For an excerpt, click HERE.

Not far from where I live is the Spade Ranch, the Tongue River Ranch, the Pitchfork, and the Four Sixes. Each one has a story.

Do you know any ranch names either in books or that you’ve seen or heard about? I’m giving away three copies of this book (your choice of format.) Just leave a comment to enter the drawing.

HOW DEEP DO YOUR ROOTS GO? by JODI THOMAS

How deep do your roots go?

I’m from dry land farmers and people who ran small ranches that never made much money.  I know the movies have the stories about powerful ranchers who own more land than they can ride across in a day, but that’s not the people I’m from.


My grandparents met at a barn raising in Texas, just over the Red River from Oklahoma.  They spent the day together, wrote letters for a year, then he rode back across the Red to pick her up.  She had the wagon packed with her hope chest and all they’d need.  They were married that day.  She was fifteen and he was eighteen. They crossed back over the Red into Oklahoma Territory and started farming.

My dad was their youngest son and he said they looked old when he was born. If he was alive, my father would be a 100 this year.

All this said, sometimes I feel close to the past.  Like it’s just around the corner out of reach.  I might have an iPhone and an Apple computer, but their blood still flows in me.  I’m from farm folks….

Or, so I thought….the blood must be thinning.

My son, who has a master’s in Criminal Justice and works in loss prevention for a national chain, was told he could work from home last month.  Three weeks later he bought a farm in the middle of nowhere.  My GPS told me I was 31 miles out.  Two hours later I’m still circling every County Road looking for him.  Who knew two ruts in the tall grass was a road?

I couldn’t wait to see his land, his farm.  We traveled across Texas, 10 hours, with three ducks riding in a tub in the back of our van.  Once, when Tom stopped fast one of the ducks flew out and landed just behind my sister.  She didn’t seem to like the duck eating her hair.

 

So all tired we pulled into a beautiful, green farm.

My son, whose time outside city lights can be counted in weeks, greets us with a warning that he shot a coral snake this morning.

Coral snake.  I start trying to remember that ‘black touch red or black touch yellow’ but have no idea which is a friendly fellow.

I jump out.  I have to walk the land!  Get back to my roots! They’ve got chickens and ducks.  A stream.  Not exactly The Red, but too big for me to cross.

The fire ants were not welcoming—enough said.

We let the ducks out and they loved their bath.

Tom thought he’d pet a chicken.  By accident, I’m sure, the chicken put a deep scratch along Tom’s arm.  This chicken was not a cuddler.

But, we were in Heaven.  We were on the land.  I had no idea how noisy it is at night.  Or how early the sun comes up without heavy drapes.

Then about dawn the first day, I picked up my Apple, curled up in the porch swing and found Heaven.

I’m from the land, you know.  I was home.

I hope you’ll feel just that way when you read my new book, INDIGO LAKE.  Come along with me on this journey and when you finish maybe you’ll say “I’m from the land.”

When I began writing the Ransom Canyon series, a very dear friend gave me a Ransom Canyon T-shirt to inspire me. It sat by my desk and was never worn. I would like to give that shirt to one of my special readers who might know—How do you get rid of fire ants without killing the chickens?”

Love you all,  Jodi Thomas

I LOVE STORIES ABOUT THE WILD WEST

  We’re delighted to welcome our guest,  Anne Greene.  Anne has graciously offered to give away three autographed copies of SPUR OF THE MOMENT BRIDE. (Sweepstake guidelines apply)

I love stories about the wild west, and horses, feisty women, and best of all cowboys. I live in Texas, and though most of the men I meet in my fast-growing town are regular-type men wearing business suits or jogging outfits or casual wear, on occasion I run into a real cowboy. I gape at him with his tight jeans, fitted shirt, cowboy boots, rodeo trophy belt buckle, and black Stetson.

But today the modern cowboy, rather than ride a horse, drives an enormous black truck with a rifle slung across the back window of his double-cab. I wrote about such a cowboy, except he rode a black Harley motorcycle, in my soon to be released book, Mystery At Dead Broke Ranch.

When I was single I even dated a real cowboy, and he delighted in showing me his trophy belt buckle and talking about his rodeo exploits. He was handsome too. So much so that I didn’t feel we were a match. But the few dates I allowed with him were fun. He even let me ride his horse.

My newest released book, Firecracker Bride, takes place in Texas, near the historic Alamo. Cat Divine resists stage robbers, her demanding father, gossiping neighbors, and flash floods. But can she resist Travis McGuire, a hero with a heart and bravery as big as his Texas home?

Seems many of my books are set in Wyoming rather than Texas. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. I love Texas, but I enjoy visiting Wyoming. My book, A Christmas Belle, is set in Wyoming. Amanda is a southern belle who becomes a Mail Order Bride. She expects to marry a Wyoming cowboy, but the Wyoming Sheriff puts duty before love.

Felicity discovers Ben at Fort Laramie in A Groom For Christmas.

When I’m not writing about sheriffs, I’m writing about stagecoach drivers. In today’s give-away book, SPUR OF THE MOMENT BRIDE, heiress Abby Hollister’s Papa demands she stop toying with young men’s hearts and marry within a month or be disinherited. She determines to become a mail-order bride and travel to untamed Laramie, Wyoming. Abby creates a list of characteristics she expects for her prospective husband and sets off to claim the perfect mate and secure her personal fortune.

Stage coach driver, Zach Tyler likes his exciting job where he outsmarts robbers and Indians and keeps the stage running regardless of weather, break-downs, and ornery passengers. But passenger Abby Hollister proves to be an unusual challenge. He protects her on the journey to Laramie, but in that town women are as scarce as a bird’s nest in a cuckoo clock, and men go crazy when the beauty arrives seeking a husband.

My own hero husband isn’t a cowboy, but he looks like one when we go Texas Two-Stepping. He wears his tight jeans, fitted shirt, and cowboy boots. And he’s tall, lanky, and laid-back. But he’s not the strong, silent type. He’s the strong, talkative type. And I love him with all my heart. And he rides a Harley.

But, I am certain I shall write many more western stories because I do so love cowboys!

Be sure to visit me at http://www.AnneGreeneAuthor.com.

So what do you like most about cowboys?

 

 

ABOUT ANNE GREENE: My home is in the quaint antiquing town of McKinney, Texas, just a few miles north of Dallas. My dear husband is a retired Colonel, Army Special Forces. My little brown and white Shih Tzu, Lily Valentine, shares my writing space, curled at my feet. I have four beautiful, talented children, and eight grandchildren who keep me running.

I’ve traveled in every location of each book I’ve written, and each book is a book of my heart. Besides my first love, writing, I enjoy travel, art, sports, reading, sailing, snorkeling, movies, and way too many other things to mention. Life is good. Jesus said, “I am come that you might have life and that you might have it more abundantly.” Whether writing contemporary or historical, my books celebrate the abundant life Jesus gives.

 

Updated: June 23, 2017 — 11:26 am

The Story Behind the Story of GRAY HAWK’S LADY

Howdy & Good Day!

Whether you’re joining us in the morning, afternoon or evening, welcome!

Today I thought I’d tell the story of the writing of the book, GRAY HAWK’S LADY, a tale deeply enshrined in my heart.  This story has just recently been re-released at Amazon, and because it is so special to me, I thought I’d give away a free ebook of the story today to some lucky blogger.

GrayHawksLady_v1Believe it or not, the story starts with a kiss.  But let me backtrack.  I had in 1992-1993 gone through a divorce and had come back to California, because I’ve considered it home ever since I was 18 and fell in love with it.  Unfortunately for me, I jumped right into a relationship that was very bad for…many reasons.  After that relationship, I wanted nothing to do with men, love, marriage again.  Sigh…

The year was now 1995 and I was on my own and definitely enjoying being on my own.  One of my best friends (whom I had known since 1970) was pushing me to go on a blind date.  I didn’t want to go and I told her I wanted nothing to do with men, relationships, marriage, dating…nothing…

But she insisted and I found my self consenting to one date.  That was in January of 1996.  I had a book due to my publisher in July of 1996, but had plenty of time to write it and had, indeed, started writing it when I went on this first date.

family1[1]So off I went on this first ever in my life blind date.  The gentleman picked me up at my house and I noticed he was wearing cowboy boots and being very interested in the West and Cowboys and Indians, this was great.  He was also born and raised in Montana, and I was very interested in Montana since the story of GRAY HAWK’ S LADY was to take place in Montana.

The date was good, okay.  We went out to eat, but I was left with the impression that he wasn’t really interested in me.  So, I put it behind me.  He never called, never asked me back out and never told me what was happening and so eventually, just to end my wondering about it, I called my friend, told her I was sorry it hadn’t worked out and … well, so long sort of thing.  To my surprise she wouldn’t let it go — I had just wanted to put it behind me.  She said, “Oh, no, he’s really interested in you.”  and I said, “Oh, no, I don’t think so.  Let’s just put the whole thing behind us.”  And she said, “No, I’m sure he really liked you.”

30002_391822494010_760039010_4043017_7176149_n[1]So she called his brother, who then talked to him, and the upshot of it all was that Paul then called me and asked me for another date.  Well, it had been a good first date, I thought, and he was a nice gentleman and perhaps we could be friends, I thought.  So I accepted.

Little did I know what was in store.  On the second date, we were both more relaxed, held hands, and I thought, okay, we’ll be friends.  He took me home, walked me to the door and just as I was about ready to go inside, he took me in his arms and kissed me.  Now, it was quite some kiss.  He meant it. And I was more than ready to receive it.   His hands caressed my cheeks, my eyes, my face, my hair, my neck. It went on and on and on, and when he was done, I felt a little drunk.  I think I stared at him and for the first time, I said to myself, “Who is this man?”  Indeed, I wanted more.

roadtr40[1]Well, that was that.  We had a date the next week, and within 2-3 weeks, I had moved in with him and we were married in May 1996.  Our first date was February 3rd 1996.  So it definitely was a whirlwind romance.

Now you may be wondering what this has to do with the book, GRAY HAWK’S LADY.  Well, a lot, I’m afraid.  I was in the middle of writing that book, and I fell so deeply in love with this man, who is now my husband, that of course that love was written all over the printed pages of GRAY HAWK’S LADY.  That first kiss and my Samhain_RWA2012_IMG_0292_Webemotional reaction to it is recorded in that work.  Also, my gradual coming to understand that this man was the most important man in my life is in that book.  His calmness, his teasing, his care…it’s all written there as I fell head over heels in love.  Over to the right here is a recent photo of us.

14-smooch[1]Did I mention that my earring (the night of that first kiss) fell off — and I have pierced ears!…

In May of this year, we were married for 21 years.  Interestingly enough I still have the pictures of our wedding on my website http://www.novels-by-KarenKay.com — can’t bring myself to take them down, even though 21 years more or less have gone by now.  People sometimes write to me and congratulate me on my recent marriage — and I smile.  To me, in many ways, it does seem like a recent marriage, as I fall in love with this man all over again every day.  I told him recently (only a few days ago) that for me it seems as if our time together has been like a fairy-tale romance (again, knock on wood).

galler6[1]I love this man with all my heart — and as the years have gone by, that love grows and grows and grows.   He stole my heart with that first kiss and that love goes on and on and on.  (I’ll knock on wood here.)  As the — gee, was it the Ronettes that once sang the song, “And Then He Kissed Me,” —  it has always seemed to me that it started with that kiss.    Ah, sweet!

I hope you’ve enjoyed the blog today.  Again, I’ll be giving away a free copy of this ebook to some lucky blogger, so do leave a message.GrayHawksLady_v1

And if you haven’t done so before, pick up your copy of GRAY HAWK’S LADY today!

https://www.amazon.com/Gray-Hawks-Lady-Blackfoot-Warriors-ebook/dp/B0723B3VCM/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1497836377&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=GRAY+HAWK%27S+LADY+by+Karen+Kay&tag=pettpist-20

Updated: June 18, 2017 — 8:44 pm

Houston Legend Spills All

Last month I released book #2 of my Men of Legend series–THE HEART OF A TEXAS COWBOY! I’m still excited. Can you tell? This marriage of convenience story has gotten a lot of attention.

Today, I’ve caught up with Houston Legend, one of Stoker’s three sons. I have to tell you, I’m a little tongue-tied. All six-feet-four-inches of this brooding handsome hunk is sitting across from me and his dark eyes are making me awfully fidgety. Oh my!

I guess I’d best get started before the perspiration seeps through my clothes—or else I grab him and kiss him.

Q: Now, Houston honey, why exactly did you marry Lara Boone, a woman you’d never met, after vowing to never take a wife?

A growl rumbles in Houston’s throat.  “I had to clean up my father’s mess. During a weekend of drinking and gambling, Stoker loses half of our ranch. Two hundred and forty thousand acres disappeared overnight. Still makes me mad enough to cuss, except I don’t do that in front of a lady. All that hard work, sacrifice, and sweat for nothing. Gone. (Houston snaps his fingers.) Just like that. And then, he tells me that I can get it back—by marrying the daughter of the new owner and giving her baby a name.

I tell you, that was closest I ever came to hitting my father. In fact, the urge was so strong, I had to leave the room before I did. Finally, after some soul-searching, I agreed. I’d give Lara Boone and her baby my name—but I had the vow to love her stricken from the marriage ceremony. Love wasn’t part of the deal. I’d make them comfortable and keep them safe, but that was all I signed up for.”

Q: Tell me about that ceremony and seeing Lara for the first time.

Houston pinches the bridge of his nose and lowers his head just a little. “I wasn’t prepared for the pain in that woman’s eyes, the shame of resorting to this, and the clear fact she hated having to marry as much as I did. I thought she was some gold-digger, wanting to trap a man, but that wasn’t the case at all. In the days that followed, I discovered how sensitive and kind Lara is. Her intelligence about ranching really took me by surprise. Who would’ve thought a woman would care about the ranch, much less know anything about the running of one.”

Q: So you put together a cattle drive and Lara went along to cook. When did you know trouble was coming?

A hard glint fills Houston’s eyes. “I saw riders trailing us the morning of the third day and my gut said they were up to something. I soon learned they were after Lara—abduct or kill, didn’t much matter to them. They were hell-bent on getting her. And here we were in Indian Territory with no law anywhere. Those outlaws gave us quite a time. (Houston gave me a little heartstopping grin.) I kinda spoiled their plan. They found out about Legend justice.”

Q: I can just imagine. I hear there was quite a fight.

Houston shifts in his chair and his voice turns to granite. “Yuma Blackstone started picking us off one by one and we couldn’t catch him. Indian Territory has thousands of places to hide. We started pushing the herd faster as hard as we could. Posted guards in camp and I ordered drovers to do everything in pairs. After burying two men, we had a bloody fight to the finish. For a time there, I wasn’t sure how it was going to end. I was down to my last bullet and figured to make it count. Suddenly a band of Cherokees rode from out of nowhere and helped up. Me and my brothers came awful close to dying that day.

Q: I hear you and Lara fell in love on that cattle drive. How do you feel about her now?”

Houston relaxes and stretches his long legs out in front of him. “That pretty woman lights up my world. I can’t imagine life without her. I’m happier than I’ve been in my life. And she and kiss—boy, how she can kiss. She sends a hunger through me like I’ve never seen. The best part of my day is when we lie down at night, sharing not only a bed, but hopes and dreams too. Lord, how I love her. She’s everything to me.

Thank you, Houston honey. I know you’re a very busy man so I’ll let you get back to running the Lone Star. Readers, if you want suspense, danger, and a big helping of romance, pick up this book and dive in. It’s quite a journey.

Leave a comment telling me one of your favorite cowboy book heroes and get your name entered in a drawing for a copy of this one. If you already have it, you can choose one of my other ones. Oh and you get to choose either print or ebook. 

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