Friendship

Courting the Country Preacher: What does traditional publishing look like to an Indie Author?

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Burlap background with pumpkins and leaves at side. Cover of Courting the Country Preacher. Text, "What does Traditional Publishing Look Like to an Indie Author? Guest post by Kari Trumbo, Petticoats & Pistols"

Hello everyone! It’s so good to be back in the stable temporarily. I’ve missed you all.

Karen asked me shortly after I stepped away if I wanted to blog at all in the coming year. At that time, I knew I had this release coming out (that’s one good thing about traditional publishing, I know WELL in advance of a release) that I had this book coming!

This is a book that I’d been talking about for a long time and finally, my friend Carolyn Miller contacted me and basically said, “let’s stop just talking about this and find two other authors to do it.” I had the time in my schedule (weird, I know) and I was excited.

It took a little while to find two other authors who also had time in their schedules (more normal people, lol) but then the discussion really started. We decided this would be historical and we like the idea and the tension of a bachelor country preacher finding love either by the push of his congregation, one member, or by the woman herself. It was really fun bouncing ideas around.

 

Coffee, laptop, and hand writing on paper with image of book cover by Kari Trumbo

 

Since I was the only author who hadn’t yet published with Barbour, I had to write my first chapter to submit with the proposal. So, not only did I have to write a one page synopsis of the story, I had to have a nearly perfect, compelling chapter one. I was worried that if my chapter didn’t do it, I could blow the whole project for everyone else.

It took six months to hear back from my agent that we had gotten the contract. In that time, I’d written four indie books. I could barely remember what I’d plotted. Thankfully, I kept good notes. Since I’m a fast writer, I wrote that 30,000 word story in four days (minus the first chapter, which was already done). Then, unlike when I indie, I let it sit. It wasn’t due back to the publisher for six months, so I wanted to return to it and not remember what I’d written when it came time for a read-through.

 

Hand with watch

 

A few months later, we got the mockup for the cover. I already knew that I wouldn’t really be all that involved in the cover creation process, but Barbour did allow us to make suggestions (the church in the background didn’t have a steeple at first). But it was so lovely, I had no real changes to suggest. I’ve been blessed to have two amazing covers for my traditional books.

 

Cover of Courting the Country Preacher by Kari Trumbo. Woman wearing tan dress from late 1800s and man wearing country hat with church in background

 

It was due in February, so in January, I opened the document and did some deep editing. I wanted it to shine for the editorial team so they would like me and hopefully take future work from me. In the end, my editor loved the story. One funny thing I wasn’t expecting was four rounds of edits in a week and a half. I expect that from indie, but I always expect traditional publishing to be slow. In my case, it was not. I was exhausted after those ten days.

I didn’t receive the galley copy (the final read through copy) for a few months after the editing stage. That was a wow moment for me because they do it differently from Harlequin. You literally get to see the fun fleuron (graphic separating a scene) and the chapter header images. Barbour did such a beautiful job. I was blown away.

I printed out my section, did my final read through and sent it back, knowing the next time I would see it would be when it came to me in a box of books from the publisher. As of writing this blog, I haven’t gotten my author copies yet.

I WISH I could describe to you what that is like. I’ve only experienced it with Harlequin. When that box is sitting there and you know what’s in it, something wells up inside you. It isn’t pride, it isn’t joy, it’s more pure than either of those. You’ve done something God asked you to do and in that box is the proof. I cried like a baby the first time I opened one of those boxes and I’m not too proud to say so.

By the time you read this (I wrote this in early September after seeing Karen, Winnie, and Mary at the ACFW conference in New Orleans) I should have my author copies of the book. I would LOVE to offer a signed copy to one commenter (in the US or Canada only, please) outside of those areas, I’ll buy an eBook copy for you and send that. I apologize in advance. I know that’s unfair.

Here is the back cover copy, so you’ll know if you want to enter:

Every Preacher Needs a Wife, Right?

Being a preacher in the countryside is not for the faint of heart nor faith. Four inexperienced preachers face a myriad of challenges including those who figure a man of the cloth needs a wife. Can they meet the expectations of “helpful” congregants and be true to their hearts?

The Mountie’s Rival by Angela K Couch
Canada, 1907 — Tired of living in his twin’s shadow, Jonathan Burton is frustrated to find himself serving as a still wet-behind-the-ears preacher in the same community as his Mountie brother. How is he to find a wife when all the eligible women of the community seem enamored by his dashing brother in scarlet uniform?

Convincing the Circuit Preacher by Carolyn Miller
Australia, 1863 — As soon as Dorothea Maclean saw the country preacher, she knew Mr. Hammill was the man of her dreams. Now she just needs to convince her wealthy parents—and Mr. Hammill.

The Angel and the Sky Pilot by Naomi Musch
Minnesota, 1905 — A preacher with a checkered past sets off to win souls in the lumber camps like the “sky pilots” before him. But can he earn the respect of hard-living men—and still respect himself—after a local trader’s daughter joins the all-male congregation?

Mail Order Minister by Kari Trumbo
South Dakota, 1889 — Olive’s parents mail-ordered a preacher and prayed he’d be a husband for their daughter. The rest of the town—and Olive—have other ideas.

Purchase Courting the Country Preacher

To enter the drawing, tell me what you love most about your preacher or minister.

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Kari Trumbo is an international bestselling author of historical and contemporary Christian romance and romantic suspense.

She loves reading, listening to contemporary Christian music, singing when no one’s listening, and curling up near the wood stove when winter hits.

She makes her home in central Minnesota—where the trees and lakes are plentiful—with her husband of over twenty years, two daughters, two sons, a few cats, and a bunny who’s the star of one of her books.

 

New Release & Give-Away

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Howdy!  Howdy!

Good morning, or evening!

Yes, indeed.  I have a new release out and it is book #4 in the new Medicine Man series.

And today, I’ll be giving away an e-book copy of the book to a lucky blogger.  Please leave a message.

As I often do when I have a new release out, I post an excerpt of the book, and I’ll be doing this today, also  Just as a mention, my respect for these two characters grew as the story progressed.  Both of them so different, yet both of them had so much respect for each other.

So the excerpt I’ll leave with you today comes at the very start of the novel, and is the Prologue.

 

This is the back blurb for the book:

A woman deserted.  A troubled warrior.  A passion denied. 

  1. When eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér is forced to flee her home in Hungary, she journeys with her younger siblings and her father’s manservant to Montana in search of her cousin. Mourning for her recently deceased parents, she sings a prayer to the grand, Montana mountains.  From the first moment Stands Strong hears Czanna singing, he is transfixed.  When he meets her, he is captivated as much by her dark beauty as he is by her voice.

But, after the family’s hired guide steals their money and runs, her father’s servant leaves Czanna to go and serve justice to the man, leaving Czanna desolate and in charge.  Being of the gentry class in Hungary, Czanna knows she and her siblings cannot survive in this land without help.  When Stands Strong comes to her aid, she realizes she must trust this man.

Lakota born, though raised by the Blackfeet, Stands Strong descends from a long line of medicine men, but this legacy seems to have skipped over him.  Accepting this, he has become an expert scout.  But, when Czanna attempts to hire Stands Strong as their guide, offering him the “evil gold rock” as payment, he suggests marriage to him instead.  Czanna refuses him, even though the flame of love is burning heatedly in her heart.

Can two people from incompatible cultures ever come together?  Or are their star-guided paths meant only to briefly cross?

Warning:  A sensuous romance that might cause a desire to go West in search of love and adventure.

 

She Brings Beauty To Me

By

Karen Kay

PROLOGUE

Pest, Hungary

The Estate of József and Mária Fehér

Spring 1855

  

“Czanna, hurry.  There is no time to waste!”

“What is it, Frederic?”  Eighteen-year-old Czanna Fehér stepped from her bedroom into the grand hallway on the upper level of her family’s ancestral mansion.  By closing the heavy wooden door against her maid, who still lingered in the room, Czanna ensured her conversation with her brother would remain private.  It was important in these days after the Grand Revolution of 1848.  Even the walls had “ears.”  Indeed, since the revolution for independence had failed, their entire family was constantly on guard against spies.

Taking her brother’s outstretched hand, Czanna rushed with him down the hall, noticing details about the corridor she had always taken for granted: the white, gold-flecked marble flooring; the gold, woolen curtains and the gold hardware holding them in place; the white and gold tiles of the arched ceiling and the white columns with gold trim that supported them.

At the end of the passage loomed her favorite feature, though it stood more exactly outside the hallway.  There at the very end of the pathway stood a heavy gold-flecked glass door, opening up onto a balcony that supported a three-tiered fountain from which water fell down in every direction and at every hour of the day.  At the very top of the white fountain stood the statue of Dacso Fehér, one her noble ancestors.  And, there he reposed, captured in time, ever alert and ready to take action to defend his home, should there be a need.

Yet, she had only a moment to admire the grand walkway and its balcony because Frederic was ushering her toward the third-floor study, a room where they had often played in their youth.  He opened the door, closing it as they both hurried past the large rectangular desk that stood so stately upon a wall-to-wall woolen rug of blue and gold.  Her brother didn’t hesitate in his movements, ignoring the alcove overlooking the estate and guiding her into a corner of the room.  There he paused, and, since Frederic was acting in so clandestine a manner, Czanna prayed the acoustics of the spot would keep their conversation from being overheard.

As soon as they were both seated in the blue-and-gold chairs and were facing one another, she asked, “What has happened?”

Frederic looked cautiously around the room before he murmured, “Our parents have been arrested and are awaiting trial.”

“Arrested?  Awaiting trial?  Surely you jest!”

“I do not,” he said.  “Indeed, it is true.  There is even talk of hanging them both for their part in the rebellion of 1848.”

“No!  It cannot be true!  The new government would never go so far as to arrest a nobleman and his wife.”

Frederic reached out and took Czanna’s hand into his own as though to comfort her.  But, such consolation lasted only a moment before his gaze bore into her own, and he said, “I fear it is no lie.  Now, listen to me carefully.  Someone—and we don’t know who—has reported our parents as part of the noblemen who helped Lajos Kossuth when he was in power in 1848.  As you know, his followers, save some who escaped, have either been imprisoned or executed.”

“No!”  Czanna let out a scream.

“Sh-h-h.  Do not cry out again, Czanna.  Now, listen and hear me well.  I am working with others who supported the Kossuth revolution; we are planning to make an appeal to Emperor Franz Joseph to free our parents.  I believe we will be successful.  But, you must remain strong as I tell you this next part: our entire family, including you and me as well as our little brother and sister, could be hung along with our parents if the appeal does not go well.”

Czanna gasped.  “But, I thought the new government had proclaimed they would support the idea of freedom for all, including all those who supported the 1848 Revolution.”

“Although there is talk of this, it is not true,” replied Fredric.  “Listen carefully.  I was able to speak briefly to our father today, and we both agree you and the rest of the family must flee.  It is for your own safety and the preservation of our family.  You must leave here this very night, and you must take our younger brother and sister with you.”

“Tonight?  Leave Hungary?  Leave the only home I’ve ever known?”

“I fear you must,” answered Frederic.  “Neither I nor our father can envision any other way to keep you and the rest of our family safe.”

Czanna looked away, forcing herself to become calm.  Then, after a moment, she said softly, “Yes, of course.  I am sorry I am so shocked; it is only that—” Her voice broke.  Then, looking up at her brother, she asked, “And you?  You have mentioned our brother and sister, but what about you?  You are coming with us, are you not?”

Frederic glanced away from her, his composure hard, although a muscle twitched in his cheek.  At last, he said, “No.  I am staying here.  I fear I cannot escape with you.  There are people I am working with who also wish to free our parents, and if I am not here to help these people, our parents’ freedom is not assured.”

“Oh, I see.  You are to stay here and help our parents.  And, of course there is no one else who will work harder than you to free them.  Still, if I must leave tonight, how will I ever be able to go away unseen?  Where would I go?”

“To America.  You must go to America.”

“To America?  But, America is so far away, and I hear it is a savage land.”

“Yes, I have been given rumors to believe the same as you,” said Frederic.  “But, there are reasons why America is the only country where our father and I believe you and the rest of the family will be safe.  It is there where you will be able to hide yourself from any Hungarian spies.  I have already spoken to our father’s manservant, Henrik, and I have asked him to accompany you.  He, however, refused the coin I offered him to do it.  He said it is his duty to ensure you and our brother and sister are kept as safe as possible.  He will guide you and shelter you as much as he is able.  He also understands why I must stay here to try to free our father and our mother, and he agrees with our father and me.  He has also given me his solemn word of honor to help you and our brother and sister to reach the American frontier with as little incident as possible.  Henrik will, of course, be bringing his own daughter with him.”

“Yes, of course.  Since she is his only family, she, too, must embark upon this journey.  Although she is barely ten years and four, I believe I shall welcome her assistance very much, especially since our younger sister is still a babe.”

“Yes.  Now, listen well to me.  You and the others are to sail north on the Danube this very night, and once you are out of the city of Pest, you and the others will go by coach to the coast, there to set sail for America.  I have purchased the boarding tickets for you all on a ship sailing from the port there tomorrow.  The name of the ship is on the tickets.  I will now give them to you and not to Henrik.  Count them and ensure there are five.”  Frederic handed her the tickets.

“Yes.  There are five tickets here.”

“Good.  Now, come, I have a private box in this study where I have stored the papers you will need as well as enough gold and silver so you will be able to buy lodging and food.  Keep the money on your person at all times.  I have two strong, but light bags to serve this purpose.  Do not store the coin in a trunk or any other convenience that is separate from you, nor are you to tell anyone, including Henrik, about the treasure you will be carrying on your person.  I’m sorry.  I know this is a heavy burden I am forced to place upon you, but there is no other manner in which to ensure you will be safe from harm.  Never show what I am to give to you to another soul either—not to our younger brother and certainly not to Henrik.  I will give Henrik other monies so he will not suspect that you also carry a treasure with you.  Please bend close for what I am about to show you and tell you.  These very walls may well have ears.  I fear I am placing you now as the head of our family from this day forward.  This family now extends to both Henrik and his daughter.”

“But…about the gold and silver.  I understand what you say about showing it to no one, including Henrik.  However, Henrik has been with our family for his entire life, and he wouldn’t—”

“I trust no one,” interrupted Frederic.  “Someone reported our parents for their part in the revolution—someone who knows us and has access to our parents’ secret papers.  Because this spy is within our midst, we are all in danger.  Do you understand?  We could all be tried for treason and hung.”

“But, Frederic, since our youngest sister, Béla, is only three years old, surely it is possible for her to stay here.  After all, it will be a hard journey for her.  Is there no other way?”

“There is none.  It will be worse for her if she stays, and this is another reason why I spoke long and ardently to Henrik about the need to bring his daughter with him.  I could not have rightly placed you into the position as the head of our family if you also had to act as a nanny for Béla.  Henrik’s daughter, Lilike, will care for Béla, which will leave you free to think clearly about what is best for our family.  Do you have any other questions?”

“I…I—”

“You all must flee…and tonight.  I do not know how much time we have until the palace guards come here to arrest our entire family.”

“I…I can hardly believe it.”

“I know.”

Glancing up at Frederic’s solemn face, Czanna was startled to realize this might be the last time she would ever see her brother, unless…  “Brother, if we are all in danger, then you must come with us.  I beg you.  Come with us.”

“I cannot,” Frederic replied.  “You know I cannot.  I have it in my power to free our parents and clear our family’s name.  This means more to me than my life.  Please understand, I must stay here and fight.  But, you must go.  You must find safety in America.  Lose yourself in the wild western frontier of America.  Do not use our family name.  Trust no one.  And, under no circumstances are you to return to Hungary.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Frederic confirmed, shaking his head.  “I believe it must be so.  There seems to be no empathy in the new government towards those who strove to free the people.  But, do not fear.  There is yet a ray of light in all of this.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember our cousin Alfred?”

Czanna nodded.  “I do.  He is about ten years older than you, I think.”

“Yes, he is older than I.  Do you remember him being a part of the Revolution, also?”

“Yes, I do,” said Czanna.  “But, he became a Hungarian forty-eighter and escaped into the American West, didn’t he?  I assume he must have changed his name in order to evade capture.”

“Yes, he did,” replied Frederic.  “But, he and I have been writing to one another these last seven years.  I wish I knew where he is located exactly in the American West.  I know only the following: he uses the English name of Old Tom Johnson and he lives within the Glacier Mountains located in the far corner of the Northwest Indian Country.  I have written to him, informing him of what is happening here to our entire family, and I have told him to watch for you and our siblings in the next few years.  But, since I do not know exactly where he makes his home in the Glacier Mountains, I am trusting you—not Henrik— to hire a guide to take you to him.”

“But, why not Henrik?”

“Let me say this one more time: someone who knows us and who has access to our papers betrayed us.  I like Henrik, same as you.  But, I trust no one except you to take our family to safety.”

Czanna nodded.

“Now, I have also written a letter that I will give to you to take to our cousin, whom you may call Tom Johnson.  I am putting this letter into your care to present to him once you locate him; plus, there is one more of our family’s possessions which is, perhaps, the most important of all I have to give you.  Our father begs you to find our cousin and give him this.”  Frederic reached inside his coat to draw out an object carefully wrapped in the finest linen.  Looking around the room, inspecting its nooks and crannies in detail, he then gave the package his attention and unwrapped the linen.

Czanna gasped.  “Why, it’s our…our—”

“Coat of arms, our Crest.  It is worth a treasure, not only because it is made of bronze, gold and silver, but because it is also a seal we must preserve.  Our father instructed me to caution you to hide it well, and, to this end, I have personally created a trap in your trunk where you may hide our seal.  When you at last find our cousin, you are to give our family’s crest to him.  It is important.  The seal must be preserved, even if our country falls.  It will also identify you to our cousin.  Our father wishes you to give our cousin the seal because, if my plea to Emperor Franz Joseph fails, our cousin would then be the oldest living member of our family.  As you well know, it is always the eldest of our family who must bear the responsibility for preserving it.  Seek out our cousin.  He will help you.  Give him my letter and the seal and ask him to help you all to disappear into the rugged country of the American West.  I fear there may well be Hungarian agents who will try to follow you.  Do you understand?”

“I do.  But, Frederic.  How can I go there and leave you here knowing…knowing…?”

Frederic again shook his head.  “I cannot go with you.  Please understand this: my duty is here.  When you arrive in America, send me word of your arrival but say nothing more.  I believe you will need to hire a coach to take you to a settlement called St. Louis.  From there, you can book passage aboard a steamboat that will take you into the depths of the American West.  Our cousin has written to me telling me he has become a fur trapper.  I admit I think it is a terrible occupation, but it is, perhaps, the only livelihood for a man in the ruggedness of America.  At least where he is now, he is not in the line of fire.  Join him there, and once you are safe from harm, use the money I have given you to buy property, if you can.  I will do my best to free our parents.  I cannot emphasize this enough: do not let anyone know you carry with you a treasure in gold and silver, nor tell another living soul about the family crest; you are not even to say a word about this to our siblings, and certainly not to Henrik.”

“But, I must have some money I can easily show and use to buy necessities.  If I am to hire a man to take us to our cousin, I must—”

“Of course you will have to carry some coin with you.  But, what I am giving you to carry on your person is more than mere coin.”

“Oh, yes, of course.  Yes.  I understand now.”

“Hear me well, and do not forget what I am about to tell you: until this is over, you can trust no one who is Hungarian, except, of course, our cousin.  Someone has betrayed us.  Now, remember these words I say to you: do not ever come back to Hungary for any reason.”

“But, Frederic, not ever?”

“Not ever.  Swear this to me now: you are never to return to Hungary.”

“But, what if—?”

“Do you swear?”

Gazing up into her brother’s solemn expression, Czanna nodded and whispered, “I swear.”

“Good.  As you know, our family is one of the noble families who sided with the Revolution.  I do not have the knowledge of what the future holds here.  But, whatever our future is to be, I and our father and mother wish you and our siblings to survive.  Make a new life for yourself, as well as for our brother and sister.  Do you understand?”
Czanna nodded.

“Good.  Now, grab your cloak, gather our siblings together and go!  Outside of what I’ve given you, take nothing else with you.”

“But, my clothes, my shoes, my—”

“They are all Hungarian made.  You must disappear.  You and our brother and sister are to have nothing with you or on you that can identity you as to whom you really are.  Now, Henrik waits outside with a coach.”

Czanna’s brother, who was probably her best friend in all the world as well as being her brother, took both her hands into his own.  Breathing in deeply, he said, “Farewell, Czanna.  I will miss you and the others.  I am sorry to burden you with so much responsibility.  If there were a way to do it, I would take the cares of the world away from you, our sister and our brother.  I, alone, would carry this weight if I could.  But, there is not a manner by which to do it.  I must free our parents.  I will write.  Look for my letters, but do not write back to me except to inform me of your journey and that you have reached America.  Know this: I will never ask where you are and you are never to tell me.  Nor will I ever ask you to go against your word and return to Hungary.  Again, I am sorry I have to burden you with this, but upon your shoulders rests the future life of our family.”

Czanna nodded, looking down and hiding, if only for a moment, the shock as well as the tears in her eyes.  It was at some length when, at last, clearing her throat, she said, “I know and I understand the burden I carry.  Farewell, Frederic.  We will see one another again.  I am certain of it.”

“Let us hope your words will hold true.”

Standing up, Frederic reached out a hand to pull Czanna to her feet.  He hugged her, and, as was tradition, he kissed her gently on each side of her face.  Then, Czanna stood to her tiptoes and, reaching up, returned the endearment.

Shaking a little, Czanna stepped back and, turning away, hurried from the study, rushing toward her younger siblings’ rooms.

“Farewell,” she called as she reached the door.

“Farewell, Czanna,” answered Frederic.  “Godspeed.”

Hail Stone (Crow) and his wife, Alvina.  Although Hail Stone was from the Crow tribe, I simply l love this photo — it looks like they might have met in one of the Wild West Shows.  It is a picture showing the love between two people regardless of their cultures.

Anyway, that’s it for today.  Do leave a comment.  And have a happy day and rest of the week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can pick up your copy of She Brings Beauty To Me here:

https://tinyurl.com/She-Brings-Beauty-To-Me

 

 

Valentine’s Day Reflections

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Some days I swear I can’t be as old as I am (and no, I’m not sharing that detail). Other days, I feel old. Not so much physically but in the slap-me-upside-the-head-with-a-reminder way. When my children’s babysitters started having children, that was a rude age awakening. (Now some of their children are going college!) This year as Valentine’s Day approaches, I’ve had another odd age related realization.

I remember what a big deal that day was in elementary school. Would my latest crush, Chris or Lester, give me a Valentine. Yes, I’m old enough that we didn’t have to give valentines to everyone in class. In college, I wondered what to do on that day because goodness, no one wanted to be sitting home. And of course, when I was dating, Valentine’s Day was a big deal. Do I give a gift or simply a card? If I go with the gift, what and how much do I spend? Such angst. When I had young children, Valentine’s Day was a great excuse to get a babysitter, go to a restaurant, and have couple time.

This year as a woman married forty-two years, the holiday isn’t as big a deal in the romantic love sense. Hubby and I will have a quiet night at home. We’ll get takeout, but don’t want to deal with getting a reservation and fighting packed restaurants. After dinner, we’ll watch a movie. Now I see the day as a reminder to tell those I care about how much they mean to me, including my exceptionally patient husband.

I want to make a point to thank all of you for being a part of my life. The first Wednesday of the month, you take time out of your busy day to chat with me. You share the ups and downs of this crazy writing life and have helped with my stories in more ways than I can count.

Since candy/sweets is the most popular Valentine’s gift, and I assume most of that is chocolate, I as my Valentine’s Day gift, I’m sharing my grandmother’s Chocolate Drop cookie recipe with you.

 

Chocolate Drop Cookies

1/2 C butter

1 C sugar

1 egg

1 tsp baking powder

1 3/4 C flour

1/2 C milk

4 Tbs Cocoa powder

1/2 C nuts (optional)

In a bowl, mix dry ingredients. In a different bowl, cream sugar and butter. Add egg and milk. Beat well. Add dry ingredients and combine. Drop a small dollop on a cookie sheet. Bake at 350 for # minutes. Insert a toothpick to test for doneness. Cookies will have a cake like texture.

Frosting

1 C powdered sugar

1 Tbs cocoa powder

2-3 Tbs butter softened

2-3 Tbs milk

Beat until creamy and smooth. Frost cookies when cool.

These cookies and chocolate covered strawberries are my favorite Valentine’s Day treats? What’s yours? Let me know.

Coffee Shops and Making Friends

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When my bestie moved to Lexington, Kentucky a few years ago after living in the Chicago area for nearly 20 years we talked about how hard it is to make new friends now that our children are grown. (Yet another reason why I hate moving. I have nightmares about being the ‘new kid.’) When our boys were young it was easier. Our friends were parents of our children’s teammates, other band/choir/dance/insert your child’s activity.

So how can we make friends when we don’t have those child center friendship pools to draw on? Work and church come to mind. But so many of us work from home now. Or, what if you are a manager, and socializing with those you supervise is awkward? What if you’re retired? What if you can’t find a church you’re comfortable with?

The other day another friend shared Mel Robbins’ video “The ‘Coffee Shop Friendship Theory’ Will Change Your Life” with me. Here’s my quick summary, but if you’d rather watch the short video, click here. Robbins claims coffee shops are a great place to make friends, but there are four types which have people with different interests who frequent them. The first being chains, she says aren’t a good place to find friends. (Ironic note—I met Val met because I write in Starbucks Monday through Friday mornings. ?) The next type, “first responders” shops are frequented by town natives and community volunteers. Third is the “local coffee” shop where moms go before work or after dropping kids off at school. The last is the “high end” type which is fancy schmancy. After determining which type suits you, Robbins suggests going to a coffee shop for an hour multiple times during the week and once on the weekends. I recommend going around the same time each day for a while as people tend to come into the shop around the same time. If you don’t connect with someone then try a different time of day.

However, in this video she doesn’t say how to form the connection but having been blessed to find friends from writing in coffee shops over the years here’s what I suggest. Smile and say hello. Get the door for someone whose hands are full. Chat while you’re waiting in line. Compliment someone. Be kind. But from the way y’all are around the corral every month, I’m sure you know that. That’s just the way you are and you always brighten my day.

For me, interacting with people in little ways and even if it doesn’t form a lasting friendship, improves my mood, makes the world a better place, and reminds me what’s important in life—the connections, even small fleeting one, we make. My hope is that we all discover as the Beatles say, “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

 

GIVEAWAY:  To be entered in my random drawing for a $10 Starbucks gift card, tell me how you met your best friend.

 

Rodeo Cowboys–Competitors, Friends, and Even Family

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Today we welcome Danica Favorite to the Petticoats and Pistols corral.

One of my favorite parts of the rodeo is the bronc riding. It’s such a great combo of talent, skill and a little bit of luck. The announcer at a rodeo series I often watch has always been good about sharing some of the inside stories of the cowboys, and one of the things I fell in love with was how many times he’d talk about how cowboys competing against each other were often close friends and traveling buddies. You think about rodeos as competitions, but it reminded me of my life growing up in the rodeo scene. The people do become like family, even if you spend all season vying for the top spots.

So when I came up with this series, I thought a lot about that sense of family, not just in my Shepherd’s Creek community, but also among these rodeo cowboys. That became the heart of The Bronc Rider’s Twins. What do you do when someone in that found family dies, leaving behind a mess? For Wyatt Nelson, that meant stepping up and being the husband and father his best friend couldn’t be.

Family is equally important to Laura Fisher. For those who read the first book in the series, Journey to Forgiveness, you know that the Shepherd’s Creek family is working through a very painful past. You don’t have to have read it to read The Bronc Rider’s Twins, but for me, this series isn’t just about each of the family members, but about the way they’ve found their way back to each other after being estranged for so long.

Though there is, of course, a happy ending, what I love about this book, and this series, is that we see how messy families can be, and how sometimes working through these issues can take a lot of time, patience, and love. And, even though we have a picture in our heads of what a family is supposed to look like, the family in this series isn’t your traditional family. But together, they find healing and hope.

About The Bronc Rider’s Twins:
A family he doesn’t expect…

But will protect at all costs.

Convinced he caused his best friend’s death, rodeo cowboy Wyatt Nelson will do whatever it takes to look after widow Laura Fisher and her infant twins—even propose to her. A marriage of convenience is the perfect solution to keep custody from Laura’s overbearing in-laws. But as Wyatt begins to fall for the little family, will he let guilt get in the way of his heart?

About Danica Favorite:
Danica Favorite has spent her life in love with good books.  Never did she imagine that the people who took her to far away places would someday be the same folks she now calls friends.

A mountain girl at heart, she lives in the Denver area with her family and ever-changing menagerie of animals.

Put it all together, and you find an adventurous writer who likes to explore what it means to be human and follow people on the journey to happily ever after.

Giveaway:
Danica will be giving away a copy of The Bronc Rider’s Twins. To be entered in the random drawing, leave a comment about someone you’re not technically related to, but you consider family, and how has that person helped you in your life?

 

Welcome to 2023! Interview & Give-Away

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Welcome to my first Tuesday blog in 2023!

Hope y’all had a great and warm Holiday season.  Must admit mine was very busy, made busier because I had a new release out in December, SHE CAPTURES MY HEART.  A little bit of trivia:  forgive me if I blow my own horn here, okay?  This new book, SHE CAPTURES MY HEART, hit #1 spot for new releases on Amazon in the American Historical Romance category.

It’s a first for me and it was an unexpected excitement, I must admit.  I’ll be giving away an e-book of this new release to one of you bloggers today, so please don’t hesitate to come on in and leave a message.  I don’t know how to do screen shots yet and so I made a pdf of the page.  I tried to copy it here, but all that came out is here:

New Releases in American Historical Romance
#1
She Captures My Heart (The Medicine Man)
17
Kindle Edition
18 pts
Karen Kay
$3.49

Also, during December, I was interviewed by Written Word Media and I thought I’d post it here.  And, if you would be so kind, I’d like to leave a short excerpt of the book, also.  So here we go!

Book Title:

SHE CAPTURES MY HEART

 

What’s the story behind the story? What inspired you to write this book?

The Native American Medicine Man has always intrigued me because he was known to be able to heal people with natural remedies, as well as to help them become well by means of rhythm and song.  Sometimes the medicine man was known to be able to see into the future and often he was aware of what was in the environment for many miles around him.  The old Native American Scout also had this ability to see for miles around him.  There is a lot we don’t today know about these gallant men and it intrigued me to be able to research into this and to write about it. 

 

If you had to pick theme songs for the main characters of your book, what would they be? (Meant to be fun. Skip if you need to!)

For the heroine, Amelia McIntosh, I would pick the song, “A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL,” by Roy Obison.  I would pick this song because she brings beauty and love into the hero’s life.

For the hero, Gray Falcon, it would be “HEART TAKER,” by John Trudell.  This is a beautiful and romantic poem/song by John Trudell.

 

What’s your favorite genre to read? Is it the same as your favorite genre to write?

Romance, of course.  But I also enjoy Fantasy, Paranormal and Adventure.  But with other genres, for me, it must have a romantic element.  Also, I love reading Native American history for my stories.  This research, as we call it, is truly the icing on the cake.

 

What books are on your TBR pile right now?

Mostly I have research books on my TBR list:  AN INDIAN WINTER by James Willard Schultz; THE SUN GOD’S CHILDREN, by James Willard Schultz; IN THE GREAT APACHE FOREST, by James Willard Schultz; FOOLS CROW by Thomas E. Mails; BLACKFEET AND BUFFALO, by James Willard Schultz.  There are others but, at present, these are what I have waiting for me.

 

What scene in your book was your favorite to write?

There’s a scene in the book near the middle of it where the heroine “comes clean” with the hero and confesses not only what’s in her heart, but the terrible problem she is facing and how she hopes it might affect him and her.  I didn’t really know what his reaction was going to be to this.  At first he was a little angry with her, but then, when he began to tease her and to court her for real, his antics made me giggle a little.

 

Do you have any quirky writing habits? (lucky mugs, cats on laps, etc.)

Hmmm.  I like to be warm when I write, especially I like warmth on my feet.  Must have my coffee handy, also.  And, when I am creatively writing (not editing), I love to have music playing in the background.

 

Do you have a motto, quote or philosophy you live by?

Another hmmm moment…  I guess when it comes to writing, it might be “finish what I start.”  Also, it applies to other things, like housework…finish what I start.  Sometimes not easy to do, but if I don’t do it, my mind seems to get cluttered.  So the motto, “Finish what I start,” would work well, I think.

 

If you could choose one thing for readers to remember after reading your book, what would it be?

I think I might like for people to think about this: that people are people regardless of color.  An Apache Medicine Man once said that we are all one race, the human race, and it comes in different colors.  I think he was very wise.

 

What is your Author Website? (If you have one, great! If not, no worries! 

https://novels-by-KarenKay.com

Well, that’s all of the interview.  And now for a short excerpt:  Please enjoy!

SHE CAPTURES MY HEART

by

Karen Kay

CHAPTER ONE

The Season When the Grass Becomes Green

St. Louis, Missouri

March 1840

As nineteen-year-old Amelia McIntosh scanned the contents of her trunk, she rejoiced.  After an entire year of planning this trip, the day had finally arrived: she was returning to the Northwest Indian Country.  Only her sister and her mother knew of her intentions, and they had sworn their allegiance to her, promising to not tell her father about what she had arranged until it was too late.

She smiled as she reached out a hand to trail her fingers over her several pairs of slippers and silk stockings; so pretty, so delicate.  These lay at the bottom of her trunk.  Picking up two muslin chemises, she placed these on top of the slippers and stockings.  Then, reaching out to gather together an assortment of corsets and stays, as well as petticoats and garter belts, she gently folded these on top of the rest.  Even a few pairs of trousers followed; these would be useful for wearing under her skirts whenever she felt inclined to take a stroll over the prairie.

On top of these, she laid out her many beautiful dresses, neatly folded.  There was one in green velvet, another in blue silk as well as a pink dress made of satinet.  But, her favorite was the dress of yellow silk.  It was beautifully low-cut, emphasizing a tiny “V”-shaped waistline.  And, it showed off her figure to perfection.  This was the dress she would wear to see him again.

Looking up, she glanced out her bedroom window, beholding the neighbors’ several cows grazing in the field that adjoined her parents’ property.  In the distance, she could clearly see corn and wheat fields stretching on and on into the distance, seemingly without end.

She sighed.  Nothing ever happened here.  At least nothing that helped to cure her of the longing to be out West, where every sunset was a work of God’s beauty and where the weather could change in a second.  Indian Country…  Gray Falcon was there.  She wanted to be there with him.

Silently she said, “I am coming back to the Northwest to see you—as well as my sister and her husband, of course.”  She didn’t say the words aloud.  Indeed, she spoke to Gray Falcon with her mind alone, not expecting him to answer, since he only sometimes “spoke” back to her.

“I know,” answered Gray Falcon.

His response surprised her, given that she had not anticipated a reply.  For five years they had communicated with one another in this way—mind to mind.  And, the distance between them hadn’t mattered.  The only drawback was that he rarely originated their little talks.  And, not always did he even answer her, although whenever he didn’t, he assured her afterward he had “heard” her well enough.

She sighed and said in the mind talk, “I am now grown up and ready to meet you again.”

“I know.  I am glad you reached out to me, for I have been wishing to speak to you.”

“You could always begin the conversation yourself, instead of waiting for me to contact you.”

She almost heard him grin.  “I should not encourage you.  You are already too forward for a girl.  My message to you is this: you must not travel alone.”

“I am not.  My best friend and her fiancé are accompanying me.”

“Does your father know you are traveling into my country?”

“No.”

“And your mother?”

“She is not here.  But, if she were, she would not try to stop me.  Indeed, it is she who suggested I travel to see you…and to visit with my sister, also.”

“Why would she recommend this to you?”

“Because I have had several proposals of marriage, but have turned them all away.  My mother is a little upset with me.”  Deliberately, she refused to think of the real reason her mother and father were “a little” upset with her.  It would serve no purpose to tell him, and it might even hinder her if Gray Falcon knew the rest of the truth behind this trip.

“Several proposals?  Of marriage?”

“As I mentioned, I am now grown up.”

“Why have you turned them down?”

“Because I do not love those men.  Don’t play innocent with me, Gray Falcon.  You know I love only you.  I have done so since the first time I ever saw you, and you know it.  I have not changed.  But, my mother thinks I should renew our friendship, for she believes only in this way might I change my mind about your culture and about you.”  There, that was all she would communicate on the matter.  Again, she kept the other motive for returning to Northwest carefully hidden within her thoughts.  Besides, she had always known she would return there to see him.  She was not lying to him about this, nor that she loved him and would always love him.

“Renew our friendship?  Surely she is not seeking for us to come to know each other in a physical way, is she?”

“Don’t be silly.  Of course she is not.  She hopes that I will come to see your world as primitive, and, realizing it is so, will give up my wish to marry you.  The truth is, she seeks to bring peace between me and my father, which will happen only if I give up my dreams of spending the rest of my life with you.  She tells me she doubts her plans for me will fail, for she believes either I shall soon tire of you, or you of me.”

He didn’t answer.  At last, however, he said in the thought speech, “Why do you tell me this?”

“To be fair and so you will know there is another reason besides simply seeing you and my sister to account for my coming to where you are.  I have not swayed away from being true to our friendship or from loving you—not even a little—but my mother wants me to put my feelings for you behind me, and she believes I will only be able to do this if I come to know a little more about the Blackfoot people, and you in particular.”  Again, Amelia kept her own reason for returning carefully buried in her thoughts.  Now was not the time to speak of it, if there ever would be a time.

“I have never sought to marry you.”

“I know.”

“But, your mother is wise, since she is aware of the friendship we formed between us.  It is this, I think, that causes her to be alarmed, for we became closer than perhaps she would have liked.  She, like your father, is afraid of a marriage between us.  But, what she doesn’t know is this: we can never marry.  Indeed, to marry one another could cause us both unhappiness.”

“I don’t agree.”

“I am not asking you to.  But, as you have been forthright with me, I will be so with you, if you do not fear me to speak of concerns that may not be easy for you to know.”

“Yes.  Please.  I am not afraid of what you have to tell me.  I probably know anyway.”

“Yes.  Although we became allied long ago, I have not wished to make you my woman.  It is not because there is anything wrong with you or because I do not like you.  I do like you.  I have always liked you, as you know.  But, I fear that were I to seek making our friendship into a romance, my life would be full of conflict and strife.  Always, there would be a plan or a scheme you would be urging me to fix for you.”

“You would never be bored if we married.”

“This is true.  However, I would also never have peace in my life.  But, we leave a detail behind us which concerns me.  Are you aware that if you continue to reject these men who seek your hand, your father might likely force you to marry a man of his choosing, not yours?”

Quickly, she froze her thoughts.

After a moment, he asked in the mind speak, “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I did, and I suppose he could try,” she replied.  “But, I am, after all, the one who is required to say ‘I do.’  And, I will tell you again, I love only you and wish to be with you.  Still, I have given my word to my mother to renew our acquaintance and to try to give you up.”  This was all she would say on the matter; she would not lie.  She was simply keeping a rather large part of the truth from him.

He was silent for a long while.  At length, he said in mind speak, “You have pledged your word to her about this?”

“I have.”

Again there was a long pause before he continued, “I say this to you: your mother is wise.  You are white; you have no knowledge of my people and what would be required of you as a Pikuni man’s woman.  And, your experience with me is limited to one snow season, now five winters ago.  I think it is mere infatuation you feel for me, not love.”

“And, so you know my heart better than I do?”

He paused for a long moment, and she wondered if he had turned his attention to something else.  At length, however, he continued, “Again, I will say it: we are like the fox and the wolf.  We are natural enemies, but, under the same cause, we became aligned in an effort to help my friend and your sister.  Perhaps we should have never allowed ourselves to become friends.  But, we did.  Remember, we have never been more than allies in a cause, made to be that way because of a great threat to those people who were very beloved to us both.  I will tell this to you once more: I wish to be only a good friend to you.  Nothing more.”

“Why?  When I—”

“Because you are not like any girl I have ever known, and, while there is nothing wrong with you, if I were to bring you in close to me, I fear I would never know again what it means to have a sense of harmony and calm in my life.  And, I would like to have peace in my lodge.  I tell you this again: your mother is right.  Becoming my woman can never be in your future, and perhaps your coming here will help you to give up this idea.  Indeed, I am thinking I might align myself with your mother and invent ways for you to dislike me.”

“Oh, stop it.  And, I don’t like this concept of ‘never’ becoming your woman.”

“It will not be, simply because I say it will not be.”

“But, you are willing for me to become more familiar with you so I might give you up?”

He paused.  “Perhaps.  That is, if ‘becoming more familiar’ with each other is about helping you to give up this idea of becoming my woman.  Again, I must say this to you: I am not inclined toward marriage with you.  Nor should you be trying to be this with me.”

“But,” she said in the mind speak, “if this be so, and our bond with each other is not based on love, but rather, as you say, a need to help my sister and your friend, why have you not married yet?  You are not too young to have taken a wife by now.”

“I am the way I am because a man must have his feet firmly planted upon the ground before he marries.  Do not think it is because I wait for you.”

And yet, she knew this was not the complete truth.  She knew it because his thoughts and hers were momentarily joined.  There could be no lies between them, unless—like she was doing—those ideas were well hidden within his mind.

She glanced at her pocket watch.  “Oh dear.  I am late.  I must go,” she said, jumping to her feet.  “Our boat is set to sail shortly, and I must be aboard.  Wait for me.”

“This is my home.  I will be here.”

The communication ended.

 

Well, that’s all for now.  I would love to hear from you!

 

tinyurl.com/SHE-CAPTURES-MY-HEART

A Very Merry Christmas Blog! And, a New Release!

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Howdy!

Welcome to a Terrific Tuesday on this December day with only 12 more days until Christmas!

Are you ready?  All your shopping done?  I know I’m not ready…not yet.

Before I begin with the blog, let me be sure to say that I’ll be giving away a free e-book of my new release, SHE CAPTURES MY HEART today.

Although the American Indians in the early 1800’s did not celebrate Christmas — they didn’t really know about Christianity until later in the century — they often celebrated the winter season by telling stories around the campfire.  And so, today I’d like to tell you an American Indian story, as well as post an excerpt from my new release, SHE CAPTURES MY HEART.

This is a true story about a young Blackfoot woman who found romance when she least expected it.  Just so you know, I am changing the names of these people.

Comes Running Woman lost her parents during an Assiniboine raid.  She was a beautiful woman, and, although her relatives asked her to live with them, she refused, preferring to live alone.  Time went on and after her grieving period was over, several young men asked for her hand.  But she refused them all.

Although she might have hated the Assiniboine warriors who had raided the Blackfeet and killed her parents, she tried to encourage the chiefs of her own tribe to make peace with the Assiniboine.  She was not successful, but she kept trying.

Red Coyote was the son of a chief and he loved Comes Running Woman, but he never approached her because she had refused to marry any of the young men who had sought her hand.  Instead, he watched her from afar and he tried to help her with whatever she was attempting to do, even watering her garden at night for her.

Many months went by as he watched Comes Running Woman, but always did he keep his distance from her.

Then, one day the Crow tribe raided the Blackfeet and the Blackfeet repelled the Crow.  However, several Crow were killed in the raid.  Comes Running Woman, however, found one Crow warrior who was badly injured, but still alive.  Because she wanted peace with the other tribes on the Plains, she tried to help this man.  She tried to lift him up to bring him to her lodge where she hoped to save his life.  But she couldn’t move the man.

Red Coyote came her rescue and lifted the man up and took him to her lodge, whereupon he laid the man down on one of her many couches.  Red Coyote didn’t ask for anything.  Instead, he simply looked at this woman whom he admired so much.

When she needed herbs or water, he always brought her the things she requested.  He even helped her to administer them to the Crow warrior.

But, he never asked her for anything.  He simply helped her.

The Crow warrior soon healed and was ready to leave and go back to his own home.  Comes Running Woman asked the warrior to please talk to his people and tell them about how the Blackfeet had helped him and ask them to please come and make peace.  The Crow warrior agreed to do this.

But, how to get him out of the Blackfeet encampment without being seen or causing a fight?

It was Red Coyote who came to the rescue of Comes Running Woman; he dressed the Crow warrior in Blackfeet clothing.  Before they left, Red Coyote asked Comes Running Woman if she was ready to go with the Crow warrior.  But she didn’t answer.

Instead, the Crow warrior said, “I go alone.”

Red Coyote then walked the man out of the tribal camp and answered the questions from the scouts who were on lookout.

Once he had taken the Crow Warrior far away from the encampment, he turned to the man to let him go, but the Crow Warrior, using sign language, asked, “Why don’t you ask Comes Running Woman to marry you?”

Red Coyote answered that he could not, because she was in love with him, the Crow Warrior.

The Crow warrior responded to this and said to Red Coyote that she didn’t love him.  Hadn’t he ever noticed the loving looks she always gave to him, Red Coyote?  No, the Crow warrior said to Red Coyote, she is not in love with me; she is in love with you.

The Crow warrior left to go back to his people and Red Coyote returned to the tepee of Comes Running Woman.  Upon entering the lodge, he simply sat before her, not looking at her, but simply sat with her.

She asked him if the Crow warrior had left with no trouble.

Red Coyote said he had, but then, he asked, “Do you want me to take you to him?  If you love him, I will escort you to him.”

She shook her head and said, “I do not love him.  So I do not wish to go with him.  I love only one man.  Do you know who that man is?”

Red Coyote said, “No.”

“It is you,” said Comes Running Woman.  “It has always been you; you, with your kind heart and helpful ways.  I have loved no one else.”

Red Coyote was joyous to learn this was, indeed, true.  Soon they were married.

A few months passed and one day a Crow chief and several men and women approached the Blackfeet encampment.  With them was the Crow Warrior who had been so well taken care of and nurtured back to health.

Soon, all that had taken place and the good deeds bestowed upon him by Comes Running Woman and Red Coyote were told to one and all, and the Blackfeet rejoiced to learn that these two people had helped this man without letting anyone else know.  Peace was made by the Crow and by this band of the Blackfoot tribe, which was never broken.  And it was all done because of the love of a woman for her people and for all the Indian people.

It is said they lived long and happy lives together and had many children.  And, always, did the people talk about the girl and the chief’s son who brought peace between the Crow and the Blackfeet people.

I hope you have enjoyed this story, which is based on a true story from the long ago.

Now, I also have a new release, SHE CAPTURES MY HEART, book #2 in the the new Medicine Man series.  And, I thought I’d leave you with an excerpt of the book:

SHE CAPTURES MY HEART, Short Synopsis

A Forbidden Passion.

When Amelia was only fourteen, she met Gray Falcon who helped her through a difficult time. Gray Falcon always thought she was a pest, yet she opened up a vital part of the medicine man’s world to him.

As adults they meet again and fall in love, but is it enough to stand strong against a world trying to pull them apart?

Please enjoy this short excerpt:

He looked on as A’sitápi stepped across the distance between them.  Oddly, a sentiment he didn’t recognize caught hold of him, making him swallow hard.  Suddenly his eyes teared a little, and he shook his head against the feeling of the utter joy sweeping through him.

The feeling startled him out of his usual stoic demeanor.  Indeed, he was more than aware that he—who was inclined to show little emotion even under great stress—was happy to see her.  Even considering all the reasons he knew as to why he should keep her at a distance, he wondered how he could not have recognized how much he had missed her friendship.

Pest, she might be.  Forthright and bold, she was.  But, she was also his friend.

She stopped her pacing about two feet away from him, and, instead of throwing herself at him as he had feared she might, she stood before him.  She looked down at the ground.  And, then she said the words he only now realized he had been waiting to hear.  She murmured, “I have missed you so much.”

“I, too,” he replied in English.

“Do you mean it?  You missed me, too?  Wait!  You speak English now?”  Her eyes were wide as she gazed up at him, and she said, “I thought you would not understand me.”

“Áa to your questions.  And, I did understand you.”

“But—”

“Your sister taught me English.  She taught me, along with her husband.  But, he was a much faster learner than I was, and he, even now, can read the words of the Americanas, whereas I cannot.”

“You never told me.”

“You never asked.”

“I thought my heart would break,” she uttered, “when we had to part.  I have grown up as quickly as I could, but it was not fast enough for me.  As soon as I came of age, I did everything I could to return here to see you again.  I have thought of you so very much, as you know, and it has been hard for me to be without you in my life.”

He smiled down at her, and, without thinking through what he was about to say, said, “Perhaps you should not tell a fully grown man about this, in case he thinks you invite him to share your blanket with him tonight.”

“Share my blanket?  I don’t understand.  What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.  He merely smiled at her, but at the same time he wondered at himself.  Never had he ever mouthed words so suggestive to a woman—and he had said them to this girl-turned-woman whom he had always considered to be little more than a troublesome ally.

“Oh, I think I understand,” she said at last.  “Oh, Gray Falcon, I am so happy to see you!”  And, then she acted as he had feared she might.  She threw herself against him, placing her arms around his neck and hugged him closely to her.  Standing on her tiptoes, she stretched up and placed a kiss on his cheek.  At once, he was reminded of another time when she had stolen a kiss from him.

Involuntarily, he found himself attracted to her, the pest, and he honestly didn’t know what to do about it.  Unsure of her and of himself in reaction to her, he backed away from her slightly.  She didn’t, however, allow him to leave her arms completely, and at last he took the only action appropriate at this moment, and, putting his arms around her, he drew her to him.

He wasn’t prepared for the feeling of utter pleasure their embrace brought him, and the idea that he should be experiencing so much delight sent shock waves through him.  Indeed, he was struck by the fact that holding her was much more pleasant than it should have been for being mere friends.

He placed her gently away from him so she wouldn’t become aware of how happy he was to see her.  Also, he required a moment to gather his wits about him so as to provide himself a defense against the impact of her womanly charms.

Hánnia, she had grown up.

 

Well, that’s all for now.  I hope you enjoyed the American Indian story, as well as this short excerpt.

The book, by the way, is priced right now at 30% off its regular price.  Here’s a link to the book:  tinyurl.com/SHE-CAPTURES-MY-HEART

Also, please let me wish you a very Merry Christmas, as well as some very Happy Holidays to come!

A Refreshing Author Weekend

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Have you ever run yourself so ragged that you just couldn’t even put two and two together?

 

That’s where I was about a week ago. This season of my life has been challenging. My oldest daughter graduated from high school in May and I’ve been doing ALL THE THINGS, like shopping trips for college, helping her apply for student aid, gearing her up to pack, scheduling last visits (like doctor and dentist). And…trying to keep my author business going.

It’s been a lot.

From left to right: Kari Trumbo, Elana Johnson, Cathe Swanson, Mandi Blake, Laura Ashwood, and Chautona Havig

I’m about to break the fourth wall here, but we are in a “pivot” season as far as being an author goes. Marketing books is vastly different from what it was pre-covid and even during covid. While I know there are still cases, the world’s way of thinking is different and authors are having to adjust to the way people are now consuming entertainment. Figuring out what works now, is challenging.

So, all that to say, I needed a reset!

I met with 5 other authors over the last few days in northern Minnesota. We talked, we had devotions. We worked through stuck plot points. We fellowshipped… It was fantastic.

AND, it was exactly what I needed to keep going. You see, even professionals get tired. We need someone to refill our cup too. I didn’t know who to ask, I wasn’t even sure exactly what I needed, but God knew.

The only thing I’m bummed about? Jessie Gussman was supposed to be able to come but had to cancel. Having her there would’ve been fantastic. I will meet her in person some day.

Other than myself, at least two of these authors have been on the blog before and all of them are fabulous.

The setting for the retreat was a very rural, rustic cabin out in the woods. We saw deer and one of the authors even had close encounter with a coyote. Luckily, they are afraid of people it turned tail and ran the moment it saw her.

 

Beyond the refreshment I got (and hopefully gave) to these great women, was the scenery. We took a day trip to Lake Superior, and everyone loved experiencing the ‘big water’, some for the first time. There is something incredibly relaxing about huge bodies of water. The waves, the sound, the scent, and the blue of the water

meeting the sky just creates this amazing internal worship. I can’t explain it any other way.

What do you do when you need a refresh?

In the past, I’ve been able to grab a good book or talk to friends and recharge my batteries, but I think I let myself get too low. I needed to get away from the ordinary for a short time (Thurs.-Sun. morning). While I can’t do a retreat every time I get in this situation, I now know that I can look forward to this every year and I’m excited for 2023.

 

To Invite Parents Into A Story or Not

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Many of my books deal with the theme of family of choice. There are a couple reasons why. I’ve always been geographically separated from family and then later, I became estranged from my parents. This changed my writing and my definition of family.

Another reason I turned to this theme is because having parents–ones who have a solid relationship with their children, offer advice when asked without dictating, forgive their children, are mentally healthy, and set good examples–is tough. At least for me, they muck up a story. They often keep their children from making bonehead mistakes that drive a story and create conflict. Why? Partly because they’ve raised children to consider options before acting, gave them a solid moral base, and are present during rough times.

That’s why either my hero or heroine often have past issues from with one or both parents. Let’s face it. Anyone who’s a parent has worried about screwing up their kid. I often joked I hoped I wouldn’t botch parenting so bad my kids spent spent in a therapist’s office. But in romance novels, emotionally damaged characters make for create conflict and character growth. How we’re raised, our emotional baggage and wounds, taint how we see the world and influence our every relationship. For example, Zane in To Marry a Texas Cowboy has major family baggage. Like two  large suitcases and a trunk’s worth.

 

Here’s an excerpt that shows how two relationships shaped Zane’s life.

“Why isn’t your old man helping out?”

“He’s in Europe trying to patch up marriage number three. Good thing, too, because he’d be a worse choice than her assistant.” How could folks as wonderful as his grandparents have raised such a shit for a son? Someone who would lead two completely separate lives with two families?

“I’m thinking a man who breaks out in hives when he hears the word wedding has no business managing a wedding planning company,” Cooper said. “If you ask me, that’s looking for trouble.”

Zane wouldn’t let  Grandma Ginny, the one person who’d been there for him his entire life, loving him unconditionally and acting as a guiding force, put her future at risk. He’d do anything this side of legal for her.

Even run Lucky Stars Weddings.

 

Another thing I like about parental absence in my stories is it allows friends to occupy a prominent role. I love creating banter between good friends, who as Elbert Hubbard says, “A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.” That kind of friend will also tell you when you’re being an ass, and often do in my books.

 

Here’s an example of the heroes in To Tame a Texas Cowboy, who view themselves as family.

“What did this one do? Is she another one with a hyena in heat laugh?” Ty asked, pulling Cooper back to the conversation.

AJ dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “Nah, can’t be that. Not even Coop could find two of those. Ten bucks says this one talked too much.”

“I’m still here, guys, and I’d rather skip the psychoanalyzing session. If you’re interested, I think I can scrounge tickets to the Alabama game. If we can beat them, we’ve got a real shot at the national title,” Cooper said, hoping to channel the conversation onto football and off his love life, or lack thereof.

“I say Coop connected with this one on Facebook, and she posts pictures of her food all the time.” Ty tossed a ten on top of AJ’s, completely ignoring Cooper’s change of subject.

Damn. He was in trouble if tickets to the A&M Alabama game failed to divert his buddies.

Zane tossed a bill on the stack and rubbed his chin while he flashed a perfect white smile at the women two tables over who’d been giving him the eye.

When he glanced back at his friends, he said, “I peg her as the strong, assertive type who’s recently divorced and is still in her angry phase. I say she complained about her ex.”

His friends stared, waiting for him to declare the winner. Betting wasn’t much fun when he was the topic. While AJ and Ty weren’t correct now, in the past, he’d lost interest in women for both the reasons they predicted. Tonight, Zane came damn close. Too close.

“Zane, sometimes you’re damn scary when it comes to women. How do you do it?”

“Years of extensive research.” Zane grinned as he scooped up the cash.

 

So, that’s why I often don’t include a parent or parents in my stories. Another time I’ll chat about the couple times I have had a parent be a prominent character.

 

To be entered in my random giveaway for the cactus T-shirt, coozie, and a signed copy of Family Ties, leave a comment telling me what you think about having the hero or heroine’s parent(s) as main characters in a story.

Various Valentine’s Day Ramblings

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For this month’s post I started researching the history of Valentine’s Day, but ended up traveling down various rabbit holes. Today I’m sharing that journey and my musings with you. First, I discovered there’s confusion as to which St. Valentine the day honors. Apparently, there were two men named Valentine that are possibilities. The day has roots in a Pagan festival and became an official holiday in the 1300s. Valentines weren’t sent until the 15th century and mass-produced ones came to be in the 1840s. The tradition of giving flowers started in the 17th century, with the heart-shaped chocolate boxes we see everywhere arriving in 1861. Oh, and the discovery that surprised me was those hearts with the sayings were originally lozenges! (The messages were added in 1866.)

As I scrolled down under related content I found “7 Momentous Kisses in History.” They listed the first “post-married” kisses of Kate and William, Harry and Meghan, Ross and Rachel’s kiss on Friends, and others. Most—other than the on V-J Day 1945 and the interracial kiss between Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura, didn’t seem that iconic to me. But those kisses started me thinking about about epic movie kisses. Again, I found myself disagreeing with what I found. The kiss in Gone With the Wind after Rhett Butler tells Scarlett O’Hara in she needs kissing badly was there. So was the potter’s wheel kiss in Ghost. But the other kisses didn’t seem that memorable or epic in my opinion. So I began wondering about great Western movie kisses. When I Googled that I pretty much came up with nothin’ other than The Longest Ride—a great movie by-the-way and Brokeback Mountain. With all the great Western romances written, how come there weren’t more Western romance movies? Or at least romantic movies or romantic comedies with cowboys? Boy is Hollywood missing out on a great market there.

Lastly, my thoughts wandered to asking why this day has such a focus on romantic love. Why do we do that people when it makes people who aren’t in a relationship feel as if they’re not complete or less than they should be? And why is it such a big deal to get engaged on Valentine’s Day? Instead, we should simply celebrate love in general. Love between friends, parent and child, grandparents and grandchildren, and the list is endless. Love and kindness should be showered everywhere like confetti. That’s where we should place the emphasis—on sharing love and kindness to those who most need it and to those who are central to our lives. If we did that rather than focus so much on romantic love Valentine’s Day would be more inclusive and not as painful for some. Also, can you imagine the ripple effect and the changes that could result from seeing Valentine’s Day this way.

To be entered in today’s giveaway for the Valentine’s Day t-shirt and A Cure for the Vet tell me what’s your favorite romantic movie and why it’s so wonderful. Some of my favs are The Sure Thing, An American President, Operation Petticoat, and Father Goose. I can’t wait to hear yours. I need some new movies to watch!