Places

Join me on the Mobile Museum for America’s Birthday!

by

Hello everyone! Want to take a little field trip with me? We’re jumping on this huge truck, and driving straight into the 1700s!

I’m not sure if other states have done this, but Virginia created four huge mobile museum for the 250th birthday of the United States, and they’ve been driving throughout the state. I was thrilled that one stopped in our small area for two days. Come join me on a mini tour! I won’t share all the photos, but I want to hit a few of the highlights of Virginia’s contribution during the American Revolution.

 

 

If you’ll remember, I’m from Virginia. I grew up just a few miles away from where Thomas Jefferson lived, and a few hours from Williamsburg, and a little over an hour from Richmond, and near so many president’s homes and the universities that they founded. For me as a child, it was just a normal day to play on the grounds of Monticello, wander through his gardens, and tour the house. When I moved away, then returned and took my children there, it was such a shock to see how much it had expanded! But it was just as wonderful as I remembered.

I will admit, as much as I’ve always loved history, Virginia’s history has always had a special place in my heart. And…I’ve a secret I can’t tell you about YET…but it’s also chock full of Virginia’s history.

So, join me on the mini tour! Ready?

When you boarded the 18-wheel truck, there was something really special about it. The sides folded out, and made a huge open room for the exhibit. It was divided into two, with the first room being much smaller. The first room, we are greeted by a digital Patrick Henry, as he gives his famous speech in St. John’s Church, Richmond, on March 23, 1775. Excuse his face looking a tad odd. He was a flickering digital screen and this was how he turned out.

 

 

After we listened to the speech, we looked around in the room he was in, and learned a little about why the colonies wanted their freedom from the crown. This was a small room, and we walked through the door into the much larger room where there were loads of interactive panels and screens, videos, and images on the wall to learn from.

Here’s a fun fact. While you’ve likely heard of the Boston Tea Party…did you know that Virginia had one too, in  Yorktown?

 

 

 

 

One of my favorites, was this one: The Virginia Declaration of Rights. There was a video just nearby it, talking about how it was primarily written by George Mason (one of the Founding Fathers) proclaimed the inherent rights of individuals, including life, liberty, and property and asserted that government power derives from the people.

 

 

If any of that sounded just a bit familiar, that’s because this important document influenced both the U.S. Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights.

 

 

Throughout the room, on touchscreens, you got to learn about some of the important women in Virginia. Each one you touched shared a video or a still image and paragraphs about their life.

 

 

You also got to do the same for the different types of men who fought as revolutionary soldiers, including those of Virginia’s militia.

 

 

One of my favorite displays was that which told about Tarleton’s Raid. To sum things up, though he was only in his twenties, Banastre Tarleton was a part of the British Legion, which was made up of light infantry and calvary (dragoons) and most of the soldiers were American Loyalists, meaning colonists who were faithful to the British Crown. They wore short green jackets, which sometimes made them known as the Green Dragoons. To the colonists, he and his men were brutal, but to the Crown, they were heroes.

Well, since Virginia’s government had relocated to Charlottesville, Virginia, and their governor, Thomas Jefferson, lived there, that made it a tempting target to strike a crippling blow at the colonists. However, just by chance, a young man, Jack Jouett, whose father owned the Swan Tavern in Charlottesville, saw Tarleton and his men riding hard, took a shortcut through the woods, and just managed to get word out in time. Most of the men Tarleton sought managed to escape. The 1781 Charlottesville raid disrupted Virginia’s government but didn’t stop them. Supplies were damaged, but it could have been far worse, and history could be quite different from how it turned out.

 

 

Of course, there were so many famous battles in Virginia. Yorktown was another with an interesting story, and it was also the place where Tarleton and his men eventually surrendered to the French. Just in case you are curious what happened to the young British hero, he returned home, and became a member of Parliament.

 

We were there for a little over a half hour, long enough to see everything but not so long as to make others wait outside, since the truck could only hold so many at once. I was so glad for the opportunity to see the mobile exhibit with my own eyes, and to be reminded that large or small, so many people played a role in America’s fight for independence, and that a good number of them were lost to history, and their contributions will never be known.

 

 

Today, I’d love to give one reader an ebook of a historical romance I wrote, also set in Virginia, and also with some history to it, about the Shenandoah National Park. Here’s the book you could win!

 

 

Elizabeth Lawrence is ready for her trip to Shenandoah National Park with its cascading waterfalls, fields of colorful wildflowers, and wooded hollows with trees that stretch to the sky. Sketchbook in hand, she expects to capture the park’s serene beauty, never imagining the hidden dangers that lurk within its depths—or the unexpected jolt her heart will experience.

Counting down his final weeks as a park ranger, Kyle Struggs expects to deal with the usual threats of the rugged terrain, not the whims of privileged visitors he’ll be serving as a private guide. Yet, as he gets to know the inquisitive Elizabeth, he realizes she’s nothing like he’d anticipated, and he quickly can’t imagine life without her.

But when a vengeful poacher kidnaps Elizabeth, their blossoming relationship is threatened. Now, Elizabeth must depend on her wits to buy time to survive, while Kyle searches the vast park to save her from the very dangers he swore to protect her against.

Find the book here to learn more! 

 

To have a chance at winning, all you have to do it tell me some historical event that happened in your state or some historical figure from your state you’ve always found fascinating. 

 

Cowboys, Rodeo, & a Stray Dog

by

I have to confess that I panicked last year when my publisher Jane Porter asked me to move from River’s Edge, my little town on the Ohio River to Marietta, Montana. I mean, holy schnikeys! Except for flyovers and the very urban Bay Area of San Francisco to visit our kids, I’d never been west of Mississippi, and now I was supposed to write in the mountains of Montana? About cowboys? And rodeos and ranches? Yikes!

To be honest, the only things I had going for me as I headed into this new writing territory was a love of and experience with horses, the fact that I’d read a lot of Tule Publishing’s Montana Born books, and a deep respect for Jane and the team’s marketing expertise. They’d never steered me wrong yet, so I took a deep breath and dove in. I even took a trip to Big Sky, Montana, in July with my pal, mystery writer Carol Light, just to get a feel for the setting. Wow, was that ever grand!

I was grateful that I was starting my Montana Born journey with three other romance authors, all of whom already wrote cowboys and Montana and ranches and rodeo. Our 4-book, 4-author series, Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys released one book a week throughout September of 2025. And we needed a theme that would run through the entire series—something that tied all the books together. Someone said, how about a stray dog? That was fine with me, so our little thieving pup first appears in Jeannie Watt’s Unforgettable Cowboy, turns up again in Nicole Flockton’s Headstrong Cowboy, and in Sinclair Jayne’s Rogue Cowboy. Each time, the little trickster is stealing something … and then disappearing. He is a sheltie/border collie mix and cute as can be! Check him out here.

Then my turn came. Because I am the last book in the series, I got to decide what would happen to the little dog we’d named Rascal—because he truly was! Husband and Son both said words to the effect of you can’t kill off the dog. Like I would ever do such a thing! I’ll grant you I’m more a cat person than a dog lover, but surely Rascal needed a happily-ever-after just like all our cowboys and their ladies. Sorry, I’m not going to tell you where that poor critter ended up. You’ll have to read the whole series, ending with my Forever Cowboy to find out. Just trust me … fairy tale ending are my specialty.

Hope y’all enjoy all four books in the Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys series—we sure had fun writing them! And here’s the best part: I have three more Montana Born stories coming up here in 2026! I got into the cowboy thing so much that I created my own Montana world—Juniper Falls Ranch, so although  Forever Cowboy may be book 4 in the Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys series; it’s Book 1 in the Juniper Falls Ranch series. Book 2, The Cowboy’s Comeback, released January 30, 2026. Book 3, Help Wanted, Cowboy releases July 7, 2026, and book 4, The Rancher’s Christmas Wife, which I’m currently writing, releases in November! And you know what else? I’m havin’ the time of my life in Montana! Come join me!

To whet your appetite for my Juniper Fall Ranch cowboys, how about we do a little giveaway? Just tell me below if you like to see pets–dogs, cats, parrots, hamsters, rabbits, really any kind of pet–in your cowboy stories? I’ll give away two e-book copies of Forever Cowboy to two lucky commenters!

Thanks for spending time with me today! See you next time!

The Woman on the Ledge ~ by Pam Crooks

by

 

When we think of heroes of the Old West, we often picture someone on horseback, wearing a badge, or standing tall with a rifle in hand.

But sometimes a hero wears a long skirt, climbs through a window in the middle of a hurricane, and reaches into raging floodwater to save strangers.

The Great Storm of 1900

For those who have never been to Galveston, Texas, (I haven’t!) it’s located on a long, skinny-looking island on the southernmost edge of Texas with Galveston Bay on one side and the Gulf of America on the other. It’s pretty and scenic, and lots of cruise ships sail from there.  But the island is notoriously only a few feet above sea level, which makes it very prone to disasters.

Especially more so in 1900.

The Hurricane

On September 8, 1900, a devastating hurricane struck Galveston. Known today as the Great Storm of 1900, it remains one of the deadliest natural disasters in American history. Thousands perished as wind and water swept across the island, destroying homes, businesses, churches, and families in a matter of hours. The Galveston Historical Foundation notes that at least 6,000 people died, many by drowning or beneath collapsing debris. But because records were incomplete and entire families vanished, other sources estimate the death toll was even higher at 8,000 or even 12,000.  Yikes!

At the time, Galveston was a thriving island city—wealthy, busy, and important as a port. When the hurricane came ashore, storm tides of roughly 8 to 15 feet swept across the island. NOAA describes winds over 130 mph and a 15-foot storm surge.  Another yikes!

But as often happens, in the aftermath of unspeakable tragedy, stories of courage rise up like cream from fresh milk.

The Schoolteacher

One story remains today, 126 years later. Some say the story is legend. Others claim it’s real. But for the story to linger so long, with so many details to make it believable, I’d like to think this heroine deserves her place in the history books.

The story goes that a young schoolteacher took shelter inside the Hutchings, Sealy & Company Bank building on the Strand. The building was built in the 1890s and was one of the structures that survived the 1900 storm. It’s still in existence today.

As the storm surge rose—some accounts say as high as seventeen feet—the schoolteacher found herself above a city enveloped in darkness. I’d love to know how she got there, or if she was alone, but from the third floor, she climbed through a window and balanced on a narrow ledge. (You can see the ledges in the picture.) Then, instead of staying safely inside, she reached down toward the raging waters and pulled people from the water, one by one, and dragged them into the building.

Can you imagine the terror she might have felt? The roar of wind, the crash of debris, the screams of those being swept past? The darkness. The rain. The knowledge that one wrong move could send her into the flood, too?

Or maybe she didn’t feel any terror at all. Maybe she was so driven to help that her heroics took over and banished all fear from her head.

Some stories say she cared for survivors for several days afterward before dying of fever. Others say her name was lost to history, though later tellings call her Sara. Or Sarah. Because her identity is uncertain, we may never know whether her story is true.

I find that part frustrating. Of all the people she helped, and for several days after, no one thought to ask her name? Maybe at the time, names weren’t important, but “Sarah” does seem consistent, even though her last name has been lost forever.  And how sad that her family might never have known how heroic she was. Or how many lives she’d saved. Maybe her family all perished, and that makes the whole thing even more sad.

But I guess, writing about her in this blog, and reading it, is another way we can honor her, right?

Have you heard about Sarah, the schoolteacher, and her legend?

What kind of hero would you be? Quiet and unassuming? Or would you be okay doing interviews in front of TV cameras and on social media?  🙂 

If you had been in that bank building during the storm, do you think you would have had the courage to reach out and help?

Have you or someone close to you ever done anything heroic?

Have you ever been in a hurricane?

Fun Historical Facts and Giveaway

by

Howdy!  And welcome to another awesome Tuesday!

Recently, I decided to redo the cover for Book #1 in the Medicine Man Series.  I’d asked my cover artist if she might consider doing a cover with the image of the hairstyles of the American Iindians on the Plains in the 1830’s.  Book #1 is set in the 1830’s (SHE STEALS MY BREATH) and so I thought I’d ask because my cover artist is really an artist and she often draws things on my covers by hand (with online tools).

So let me first take you back to the 1830’s in an area of the country known as INDIAN TERRITORY.  George Catlin, as well as Karl Bodmer (accompanying  Prince Maxmilian onto the Plains) made trips into the interior of the north country, and they left a record of their travels.  What I had always noticed about these paintings was that the men often changed their hair styles, while the women generally wore their hair in braids.  This doesn’t necessarily hold true for the more southern tribes, but when I look at the northern tribes, these men pretty much wore their hair in a similar manner

Here are two men from the Nez Perce tribe who lived on the western side of the Blackbone-of-the-world Mountains (the Rockies).  Catlin met these two men when he was on a steamboat.  Interestingly, both men were on a mission for their tribe to see out the “Black Robe” and ask him about his religion and invite him to come to their tribe.

To the right here is an Assiniboine Indian (the Assiniboine were located farther east and a little more north of Crow Indians in what we now know as Montana.

In the center here is a Lakota man and below that is a Cheyenne chief.  The same hairstyle held true for most of the Northern tribes during this period: The Blackfeet, the Crow and the Cree.

And so, because my cover artist is a real artist and sometimes paints different images into a particular image she is working with, I asked her if she might be able to do a cover showing this particular men’s hairstyle.

Cat022

Below is the result:

This is the cover that my cover artist created for me and I absolutely love it.

Many things I love about this cover, but outside of the image of the hero and the heroine, I love the sky and the mountains.  Montana is often called The Big Sky Country and so I love that this image also highlights the sky.

This first book is currently on sale for $.99 and my newest book (Just released) in the Medicine Man series is sale for $3.59 at Amazon.

Note the difference in hair style between the 1830’s and the 1879’s.  My newest book is set in the 1870’s and at this time we have a completely different hairstyle that the men are wearing…again, almost tribe to tribe a very similar hair style.  Some differences, but many things that are similar about them.   This fellow in the middle here is Blackfeet.  Note the braids and the hair is now almost straight up and parted on the side.

The Picture below is of a Crow man:  Note how similar the style is at this time period.

The same styles were seen in the Flathead and the Nez Perce tribes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so I now would like  you to see how my cover artist showed this particular hair style on my newest cover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think both of these covers (that are new to me) are so very well done and show the different hair styles at this time in history.

What do you think?  Hope found this little bit of history interesting.

Both of these books are on sale:

SHE STEALS MY BREATH:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09TNDS67H?tag=pettpist-20 — This book is on sale for $.99.

IF SHE WERE MINE:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GWY3P5KS?tag=pettpist-20 — This book is on sale at a 40% discount at $3.59.

Please come on in and leave a post.  I’ll be giving away a free copy of the book, SHE STEALS MY BREATH.

 

 

 

Route 66- 100 Years of Hardship & Hope

by

If you’re itching to hit the pavement this summer, there’s perhaps no better year to take a spin on Route 66. In honor of the iconic highway turning 100, cities and towns across the U.S. are celebrating throughout 2026, with official national events kicking off this week.

Road trippers coasting along the famed thoroughfare won’t be bored: Route 66 boasts more than 250 sites listed on the National Register of Historic Places, including diners, bridges, and historic hotels. But a century ago, it was just a patchwork of local, state, and national roadways made largely from materials like dirt, gravel, and bricks. Only 800 of its initial 2,448 miles were paved — it would take another 12 years to complete the rest.

However, the route, also known as the Mother Road, was groundbreaking for its time. Its primary predecessor, the Lincoln Highway, opened the door to cross-country travel, but mostly for wealthy folks who could afford the pricey vehicles of the 1910s. Route 66’s debut coincided with the automobile boom of the 1920s, which helped lower the cost of long-distance trips and enabled more drivers to get on the road.

When it received its official designation in the summer of 1926, the U.S. 66 Highway Association described it as “the shortest, best, and most scenic route from Chicago through St. Louis to Los Angeles,” per the National Park Service. It also served as a lifeline for residents in rural communities. In the eight states it passes through — Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California — it increased traffic to small towns, which helped boost population growth and economic development across the West.

In the ’30s, Route 66 became a saving grace for those looking to migrate westward and escape the Dust Bowl in the south-central U.S. This plight was famously documented in John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath.

“Highway 66 is the main migrant road,” he wrote, adding, “66 is the path of a people in flight, refugees from dust and shrinking land.”

During World War II, particularly after western states were identified as ideal locations for military training bases, the country relied on the highway to transport troops and defense supplies. And after the war was over, Route 66 experienced a tourism boom — inspiring the lyric “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” by jazz musician Bobby Troup.

 

And for those of us over a certain age, who can forget Martin Milner and George Maharis as two young adventurers who drove the road in their Chevrolet Corvette on Friday nights from 1960-1964. Despite the name of the series, most episodes did NOT take place on the historic road, but in 25 different U.S. states, all on location. TV viewers were treated to episodes filmed in Carson City, Los Angeles, Toronto, Santa Fe, Reno, Tucson, Dallas and many more locales.

For the first time, Americans were beginning to think about automotive travel on a mass basis. This is a period when Americans had vacations, thanks to the boom in manufacturing and unionization drives that helped people earn a decent salary. And they wanted to drive west in their new car on their vacation.

Many of the highway’s now-nostalgic rest stops thrived during the ’40s and ’50s — think diners, gas stations, and convenient accommodation such as motels, auto camps, and motor courts. But 1956 marked the beginning of the end of Route 66’s glory days. The Federal-Aid Highway Act sparked the creation of nationwide interstate highways, which provided faster ways to cut across the U.S. but were often located away from small towns. By 1985, The American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials voted to remove Route 66’s highway signs, and it was officially decommissioned. recognizing its historical and cultural significance, the U.S.

Congress passed the Route 66 Study Act in 1990, leading to the National Park Service’s Route 66 Special Resource Study U.S. National Park Service. This effort resulted in the creation of the Route 66 Corridor Preservation Program, aimed at preserving significant structures, features, and artifacts associated with the highway U.S. National Park Service. Today, surviving stretches, museums, and roadside attractions continue to celebrate Route 66 as a symbol of Americana and the nation’s automotive heritage

Last week, the centennial’s official kickoff event featured the National Route 66 Centennial Telegraph Ball, a concert, and a parade in Springfield, Missouri — and the nationwide festivities will include everything from an auto show to a “light capsule.”

Route 66 remains a testament to the evolution of American transportation, the rise of automobile culture, and the enduring allure of the open road. Its legacy continues to inspire travelers and historians alike, reflecting both the economic and cultural transformations of the 20th century.

Happy 100th Birthday, Route 66!

To stay up on our latest releases and have some fun, too, join our Facebook Reader Group HERE!

Old Photos Tell New Stories

by

In 1982, when my Great-Aunt Alice died, the few personal belongings she had in the nursing home came to me. Among them were a couple of pieces of jewelry, a photo album and some larger loose photos, her art portfolio from when she was drawing in the 1940s and 50s, and her father’s collection of writings. Her father was a writer and a sports reporter for the Chicago Inter Ocean newspaper during the post-Civil War days through the late 1800s. The story of her father and mother I’ll save for another blog, but I’ll tease you with this: His writings include several semi-pornographic poems circa 1877. Yup, there’s really nothing new under the sun, is there?

When the Meehan branch of my family—my mom’s side—had a Cousins Reunion about fifteen years ago, I dug out the photos from Aunt Alice and brought them with me. They were a treasure trove of family history, except that many of them were unlabeled. Unless someone recognized the folks in the pictures, we had no idea who we were seeing. After looking at dozens of old pictures, dating back as far the 1860s, I began to understand how some family pictures end up in antiques stores. When you’re cleaning out your grandmother’s house of fifty or sixty years of clutter, and there are no names to attach to photos, perhaps it is easier to just abandon them. Thankfully, we didn’t do that.

One of the unlabeled, rather tattered pictures became known as the “mystery photo” and all the cousins took a turn examining it, comparing it to known pictures of ancestors, and peering at it endlessly with the magnifying glass. The photo has five young women, dressed in what appears to be wedding garb—long lacy dresses, headpieces with veils—a photo expert dated it somewhere between 1900 and 1920.

I’m fairly sure that I know who two of the women are: One is my Great-Aunt Alice (upper right) and one is my Great-Aunt Ruth (upper left). Alice, we verified with a known photo of her taken at roughly the same time where she’s wearing the same necklace she has on in the group shot. We did the same with Great-Aunt Ruth, although she’s very distinctive looking anyway. The one sitting on the cushion down in the front could be my grandmother, also named Ruth, but when she was very young. That young girl looks remarkably like my own mother when she was in her early teens.

Great Aunt-Alice about the same time time as the wedding picture.

We still have no clue who the others in the photo are or what the event is—we’ve considered that it might be a wedding since they’re all dressed in fancy clothes and carrying flowers. We also thought maybe it was a Job’s Daughters photo or a Sunday School class or a graduation. We seriously have no idea, but we’re kinda going with wedding idea.

But whose wedding? Which young woman is the bride? The one sitting on the settee on the right seems to have a fancier dress and her flowers look more like a bouquet and not a basket like the others—is she the bride?  If so, why isn’t she front and center? The ancestor she looks most like is Great-Aunt Emma, but we don’t believe she’d have had such a fancy wedding. This appears to be a really extravagant affair with four bridesmaids in pretty snazzy dresses.  Honestly, no one in our family could’ve afforded a big fancy wedding, so at this point, it remains a mystery.

I’ll continue to research this photo, as well as several others that we pondered over during Cousins Reunion–I’ll keep you posted if I find out anything new about these lovely ladies. Do any of you have any mystery photos? Pictures with no information written on the back? People you have zero idea who the folks are? Tell all!

 

Giving a Series a Makeover

by

From time to time, it is necessary to give book covers a fresh look.

I recently concluded my Pendleton Petticoats series (all 11 books) needed a makeover.

It wasn’t something I particularly wanted to do.

And it wasn’t the first time I’d given the books a new “face.”

I thought you might like to see the evolution of the first book, Aundy.

Back when I first published the book in 2013, I was working with zero budget for buying nice book covers. So I made my own despite my lack of experience with them.

The woman who appears to be running off the cover was me, wearing an outfit my mom had made for me years ago. I photoshopped in the background and the lamb.

That finished the book. And I wrote a few others in the series.

Then I decided Aundy and the other books REALLY needed an upgrade.

By then, I could afford to spend a little on book covers and used images I found on a stock photo website I subscribed to.

I’m not sure if this cover is better or worse!

 

The next cover was much, much better (my skills had improved and I had access to better images).

Yet, it was still time for an update.

I am so, so pleased with the way Aundy turned out. And I love that Garrett is now on the cover as well!

If you are unfamiliar with the series, Aundy is the first book.

A widowed mail-order bride.

A stubborn rancher.

An unexpected second chance.

Aundy Thorsen crossed the country to become a mail-order bride … only to find herself a widow days later. With nowhere to turn and no intention of going back to Chicago, Aundy sets out to build a life for herself in Eastern Oregon. But forging a future on a rustic homestead is harder than she imagined, especially when it means wrangling unruly chickens, tending sheep, and proving she can manage on her own. The last thing she wants is help from her infuriatingly handsome neighbor.

Garrett Nash has spent his life working the family ranch and understands just how unforgiving the frontier can be. When tragedy leaves Aundy alone, the steady, protective cowboy offers his help out of obligation. Admiration for the brave, determined woman soon turns into something far deeper and richer.

However, Aundy has already risked her heart once and paid the price. She refuses to make that mistake again. But Garrett isn’t offering to rescue her. He’s proposing a true partnership.

In this sweet and wholesome historical western romance, a slow-burn love story unfolds between a strong heroine and the rugged rancher next door. Filled with warmth, gentle humor, and hard-won hope, Aundy is a moving story of second chances, found family, and a love powerful enough to take root in the wild, untamed West.

Welcome to Pendleton, Oregon, where courageous women, steadfast cowboys, and a close-knit community build lives filled with hope, humor, and lasting love. Each story in the Pendleton Petticoats series delivers a heartfelt romance, rich western charm, and a deeply satisfying happily-ever-after.

Start the journey today—and discover the story that began it all.

And here is what all the covers (in order) look like.

Which book cover (or book) in the series is your favorite?

Post your answer for a chance to win a digital copy of Aundy and a $5 Amazon Gift Card!

 

 

New Story, IF SHE WERE MINE, is on Pre-Order

by

Howdy!  And welcome to another terrific Tuesday!

Well, while we are getting the e-book ready to publish (all the editing and proofing is now done) we’ve put the new book up for a Pre-Order.  Here is the link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GWY3P5KS?tag=pettpist-20

It’s on sale at 40% off what the price will be once all the promotion is done for its release — that is to say, it’s regular price is $5.99.

And I’ve tweaked the blurb a little for Amazon.  Here is the new blurb:

 

AI-FREE! 100% organic author-created content. No artificial intelligence was used in the writing of this book.

If you enjoy stories about how love can win, despite terrible wrongs and extreme prejudice, this story is for you.

A star-crossed love, treachery, and a desire that will not be denied.

Briella Feher is in love, but not with her fiancé. Her father has exiled her from the sweeping plains of Montana to New York City “for her own safety,” commanding her to marry within her heritage and class. Raised in Indian Territory, Briella was shaped as much by the Pikuni—Blackfeet—people as by her aristocratic Hungarian family. Viewed as a cowgirl, Briella doesn’t fit in with society. Perhaps it’s the guns she wears strapped to her evening gowns. Her heart has always belonged to Red Fox, the Pikuni medicine man who taught her to survive on the prairie, the man who was her teacher, her first love. When James Maximillian III proposes—with the condition that he keep his mistress—Briella accepts, seeing his proposal as her only path back to Montana and to Red Fox.

Two years apart have not cooled the fire between Briella and Red Fox, yet his honor won’t allow him to claim this woman who is promised to another. With the escalation of the Indian/Cavalry wars, Red Fox believes distance is the only way to protect the woman he loves. Then a vision reveals a devastating truth: Briella’s fiancé is hiding a lie that could shatter every vow. It’s now up to Red Fox to find the truth.

But, time is running out and forces are aligned against them. Can Red Fox find the proof and expose the treachery in time to alter the ending of their Romeo and Juliet romance, or will he lose Briella forever in a romance destined for tragedy?

Warning: This is a forbidden love story—forbidden by both sets of parents–which begs the question: will the hero and heroine get a second chance at love? Set in the 1870’s, this sensual love story is sprinkled with paranormal, Native American style. But, if you love the old west as it was lived and loved by the First Americans, you’re going to love this story.

And I should tell you I will be giving away a free e-book from this series — winner’s choice.

So let me share another except from the new book.  In this story both the heroine’s and the hero’s parents are against these two marrying.  Both have “good” reasons, so they think.  But, when all is said and done, love will win out.

IF SHE WERE MINE

By

Karen Kay

Excerpt #2

Grasping hold of the parfleche tube he had tied onto his pony, Red Fox took out his white buckskin clothing and shook out the garments. These were his best, his fanciest, buckskin clothing. They had been given to him by his grandfather upon the first event of Red Fox having publicly healed a rich man’s pony, it having become lame because of a disease upon its leg.

His grandfather had been a bigger man than he, and several snows ago, Red Fox had cut, sewn and tailored the clothing to fit his own frame. Red Fox shook out the stunningly white buckskin clothing and inspected the regalia to ensure every feather in the headdress was neatly in place. He then looked over the beadwork to ensure each bead was still firmly sewn into the leather and was not likely to fall off.

Standing upon a shady patch of ground within an outgrowth of pines growing atop one of the numerous buttes overlooking the Féher ranch, Red Fox inspected the white buckskin leather shirt with blue-and-white-beaded “V” shapes falling down over the shoulder straps. All were intact.

He then put his attention on the cloth breechcloth, the white leggings and moccasins, all beaded in the same design as the shoulder straps. Leather fringe about eight inches in length, as well as long locks of black hair scattered in amongst the buckskin fringe, fell from each sleeve. The same fringe lined each seam of the leggings of the regalia.

A looping white-beaded necklace which would fall from his neck was unbroken, while the headdress of eagle tail feathers stood straight up, then fell all the way to the ground. Two long ermine furs were attached to the bonnet in front; these would fall over the shoulders. The strip of beadwork in front of the headdress was in the same style as the shoulder straps.

Niitá’p, this regalia was the best clothing he possessed, and what an honor it had been when his grandfather had passed these clothes down to him.

As Red Fox donned the clothing, he listened to the strains of what he knew to be the white man’s music. It was quite pretty. The sound was floating up to where he was standing, up high upon a ledge of a cliff overlooking the Fehér ranch.

Picking up his rifle, which he kept in a beautifully beaded parfleche case—a present from his sister—he turned around and climbed to the top of the cliff. The prairie stretched out from behind him, requiring him to step up a little before he could stride out upon the flat plains toward the spot where he had left his pony. Ensuring his pony was not hungry and had plenty of grass to eat here within a growth of pines, he satisfied himself that his pony would be well hidden, this especially so because Hunts-with-the-wind would keep watch over the animal. Breathing in deeply, Red Fox then retraced his steps and set off on foot down toward the party.

****

Watching the dancers from the patio outside the ballroom, Red Fox felt definitely the outsider. He, alone, was outfitted in Pikuni garb. And, the others? They were beautifully dressed, yes, exactly as Eagle Heart’s woman had said they would be. But, all here wore white man’s clothing, since his relatives, all but George and his wife, had left earlier in the day to rejoin the Pikuni encampment. Even the “hang around the fort” Indians were clothed in white-man’s garb.

Where is she?

Although Red Fox had a long acquaintance with the white man’s fashion sense, as well as his dances, he had never seen this kind of smooth gliding where it looked as if the men and women were floating in each other’s arms around and around in a circle upon the dance floor. Silently, he thanked the wife of Eagle Heart for instructing him in the steps of the waltz.

He had witnessed, of course, the jig, the polka and even several Indian dances from other tribes that included both men and women dancing, but never had he borne witness to such graceful movements nor had he observed the intimate way in which the men and women held one another.

Watching the couples’ movements as they whirled around the dance floor, he was captivated for several moments until he realized he still could not find Poka’aki.

Where is she?

Catching a glimpse of George waltzing with his wife, Red Fox felt himself relax. Here was something familiar; people he knew and loved.

Stepping proudly inside this place of music and dancing, he became unusually aware that he at once garnered a great deal of attention. People even gasped. Then he saw these same people turn inward to make groups where they talked amongst themselves and pointed toward him.

Perhaps this was done to cause him to feel uncomfortable, but it had the opposite effect over him. It empowered him, knowing how rude and crude were these people who could not even hide their curiosity, if this were what it was.

It wasn’t as if the Indian people weren’t also curious about these newcomers into their country, but they did not stare, nor so openly would they point at a person and then turn to gossip amongst themselves.

Was this aloofness and rumor mongering the sort of thing Poka’aki had been forced to endure in her exile from her home? If so, was there any wonder why she had agreed to a proposition that would enable her to leave there?

Ah, there she is.

So beautiful was she, he caught his breath as he recalled his youthful fear of her because of her beauty. She was wearing a dress in a light shade of pink that accented her figure in front, but was puffed out in back with what must have been yards and yards of material. It was trimmed in a deep color of red, and it seemed to shimmer in a cascade of waves as it fell to the floor. The shoulders of her dress fell down her arms, leaving the top of her breasts, her neck and her upper arms bare. A ribbon in the same color of deep red was tied around her neck, and the length of it fell down the dress in back. And, as she swirled around the floor in the arms of a man, the dark-red ribbon which fell down in back of her, swayed to and fro.

Her hair was caught up on top of her head, while curls of her dark, auburn hair fell over her shoulders. A tiny pink hat covered the top of her tresses.

He couldn’t remember seeing her so beautifully dressed. And, for a moment, an odd feeling come over him: would he ever be able to give her such riches? Worse, having now tasted this kind of life, would she require them?

He shrugged off the thought and studied the man who held her in his arms, and, as Red Fox witnessed the man’s possessive grip on her, Red Fox realized this had to be the man she was being required to marry. The gentleman was not an unhandsome fellow, though he possessed facial hair above his lips, a feature both Indian men and women abhorred.

He stepped farther into the room and took in the measure of this fellow holding Poka’aki. Although Red Fox longed to fade into the scenery in this place, he could not. Realizing his countenance and dress were too different and too exotic for those around him to act politely, he ignored their whispering and pointed glances.

Indeed, he concentrated on studying this man, Maximillian. If he were to envision a way to release his woman from this person‘s grip, Red Fox needed to understand Maximillian as well as he knew himself. The man was slender, tall, although perhaps a little shorter than he, Red Fox. The fellow, however, kept glancing to the east side of the dance floor instead of giving his beautiful partner all of the attention she deserved.

Looking to the eastern side of the dance floor, Red Fox saw the reason for it: a pretty young woman with the pale color of hair that was so rare upon these plains stood there, the object of this man’s attention. Remembering what Poka’aki had said about the man possessing a mistress, Red Fox surmised this woman had to be Maximillian’s undeclared sits-beside-him-woman.

And, though she was stunningly pretty with her blonde curls and blue eyes, there was a catch in her eye and a quality about her countenance that was not pretty. And, worse, she stared at Poka’aki with a look that was hardly likeable. Watching the interplay between this woman and the man who was dancing with Poka’aki, Red Fox knew it was only a matter of a few moments before he, Red Fox, would intercede.

As soon as the music of the dance ended, Red Fox paced forward and into the crowd of dancers, his steps taking him directly to Poka’aki and the gentleman, who, at this very moment, had laid his hand upon the small of Poka’aki’s back.

Inserting himself directly into the path of Maximillian and Poka’aki, Red Fox waited as the people around him cleared away until, at last, the gentleman beheld an Indian warrior, complete with rifle—although it was encased within its beaded case and was strapped around Red Fox’s shoulder—was standing directly in his path.

Red Fox watched the man physically jump, and had it been gentleman-like to scream, the fellow might have done so. As it was, he gasped and stopped walking completely.

“Red Fox! I was wondering when I might see you here! Welcome!” Dragging her escort with her, Poka’aki stepped up before Red Fox and proceeded with the introductions, saying, “Red Fox, this gentleman here is Maximillian the Third. Max, this is Red Fox, my friend, as well as my tutor into the ways of the Plains and how one can easily survive on them.”

Maximillian bent over at the waist and inclined his head, but he said nothing.

Red Fox simply nodded. Then, looking directly at Poka’aki, he said, “I would like to dance with you, Poka’aki.”

“Of course. They are playing another waltz, this one a little slower than the last. Do you know the dance?”

“I do, although I have only learned these steps this very day,” Red Fox answered. He then watched as Maximillian bent slightly forward again, clicked his heels together, and turning, he walked away, although Red Fox saw the man’s knees were shaky and bowed slightly outward as he walked.

Returning his attention to Poka’aki, Red Fox asked, “Will you show me how I should hold you like these other men are doing?”

“Of course I will. Now, you put your right arm around my waist, like so.” She placed his arm in the correct place on the small of her back. “Then you hold my right hand with your left, and listen to the music and the beat. One, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three. Do you hear the beat?”

“I do.” He placed his rifle, complete with its carrying case, a little more fully onto his back and out of the way, noticing at the same time that, true to her Pikuni teaching, a gun in a holster was wound around her waist.

“Good,” she said. “Now, starting with your left foot, we step up and back; up, two, three; back, two, three; up, two, three. Now, with your right and left foot, on steps two and three, you twirl around slightly, taking me with you as you twirl. Are you ready?”

“I am,” he answered. And, then he began to dance up and back; up, two, three; back, two, three; up, two, three; back, two, three; as he had earlier learned. Then, he commenced to twirl around. Gazing down at her, he witnessed her beautiful smile.

“You are a quick learner.”

“It is because I dance and sing every day to my ponies, and sometimes I dance while we are in camp. And, I often drum and sing as I dance.

“I know,” she said. “I have seen you do this, although only on occasion, and I have always thought you are most graceful.”

He smiled down at her. “Also, the wife of Eagle Heart showed me these steps today, though I did not hold her as I do you. She waltzed instead with her man, Eagle Heart.” When Poka’aki remained silent, he commented, “This dance is as it looks. It feels as if one is floating.”

She grinned up at him. “It feels, indeed, exactly as you say. How lovely it is to be in your arms. I have never seen this regalia before. Is it new to you?”

“Saa, it is not new. Never have I had the occasion to wear it before this night. It belonged to my grandfather.”

“And, was it passed down to you?”

He nodded.

She commented, “Perhaps our son shall inherit it.”

Red Fox missed a step while at the same time someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. He came to a halt and gazed over his shoulder, there to see Frederic Fehér behind him, Frederic’s lips were set into a frown and his eyes filled with censure.

“I am cutting in to this dance,” Frederic said.

Red Fox glanced at the brother of Poka’aki questioningly.

“It means,” said Frederic in a voice dripping with sarcasm and disapproval, “that I am now going to dance with my sister while you step aside.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Now.” And, with no more instruction nor so much as a kind word, Frederic placed his arms around Poka’aki and danced away with her, although Red Fox observed she was frowning as she spoke to her brother.

Puzzled, Red Fox looked toward Poka’aki, who took her arm from around Frederic to say to Red Fox in sign, “Do not be upset. This is sometimes done.”

What was he supposed to do? Stand here while the dancers twirled around him or bumped into him?

At last, Red Fox began to understand. And, waiting for Frederic and Poka’aki to twirl in close to him, he stepped up to Frederic and tapped him on the shoulder, only to experience the shame of Frederic ignoring him completely as he stepped quickly away and whirled around the dance floor, Frederic presenting a façade as if nothing had even happened.

Knowing Frederic had intended to create the sensation of wrongdoing within him, Red Fox determinedly refused to give the matter any of his energy. Instead, with a steady gait, Red Fox turned around and walked off the dance floor and out of the ballroom completely, leaving the lovely sounding music behind him.

And, lovely it was, indeed. He couldn’t remember hearing anything quite like it in his past.

For a moment, he paused on the wooden flooring outside the actual dance hall, doing little more than listening to the enchanting music. He would remember it. It was so very beautiful.

And, when the music for a jig began, Red Fox set off on foot over the plains, making his way back up to the ledge of the butte, where his wolf would be awaiting him.

****\

Well, that’s all for today.  Remember I’ll be giving away a free e-book from this series to one of you bloggers today, your choice.  So come on in and share your thoughts with me.

 

 

Heidi Gray McGill Shares Her New Release and a Giveaway

by

She can Outride, Outshoot, and Outwork Any Man on the Ranch — So Why Can’t She Just Let Someone Love Her?

A Review-Inspired Look at Keeper of My Heart by Heidi Gray McGill

Some folks ride hard into a story expecting a formula: cowboy meets girl, sparks fly, wedding bells ring at sunset. Keeper of My Heart, Book Six in Heidi Gray McGill’s Discerning God’s Best series, lopes right past that fence and into territory that feels both wilder and truer than most romance novels dare to travel.

Meet Cecelia Shankel. Born in the saddle. Raised on grit. The woman who outrides, outshoots, and outworks every hand on the family’s Missouri spread. As one reader put it, she “harkens back to the very real, but often erased, women who wore trousers and boots as they rode fences, cared for livestock, and put the home in homestead.” Cecelia doesn’t make herself small for anyone. If a man can’t stand on his own two feet, he’s got no business standing next to her.

Then Jimmy Reeves shows up from Philadelphia. He’s book-smart and organized down to the last pocket watch tick, but more comfortable with formulas than feelings. He came west to study medicinal plants, not to be rattled by a sharp-tongued woman who can probably rope a steer better than he can tie his own cravat. What readers found endearing — and what makes this opposites-attract, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers story crackle — is that Jimmy isn’t the typical macho hero. He’s anxious, a little naive, wired a little differently than most, and figuring out his calling between the pages of a compounding ledger. Yet, as one reviewer noted, “his anxieties won’t deter him from absorbing everything the West is willing to teach.”

Grumpy Meets Sunshine on the Frontier

Here’s what lights the fuse: Cecelia thinks Jimmy is an arrogant city doctor with soft hands and softer instincts. Jimmy thinks Cecelia is an impulsive wildcard who runs on instinct the way he runs on logic. Their forced proximity — she’s assigned to teach him the land, whether or not she likes it — turns mutual irritation into something neither of them counted on.

Readers cheered the slow burn. Cecelia, the wounded heroine, believes she must always be the best to prove her worth. Jimmy has spent his whole life valued for his mind. And tenderness in boots and a work shirt is not something his medical school prepared him for. Their caretaking moments, particularly when Cecelia nurses him through a smallpox outbreak, strip away every layer of competence both wore like armor, and what’s left underneath is two people who are genuinely scared to need each other.

“For the first time, she wondered if she was lonely or simply stubborn.” (KOMH Chapter 13)

That question cuts to the marrow of what makes this book more than a romance. It’s a story about self-sufficiency as both superpower and prison. The tagline captures it cleanly: “In a world where independence is survival, can two opposites surrender to God’s best plan for their lives?”

Faith That Fits Like a Well-Worn Saddle

What readers praised most consistently, and what sets McGill’s storytelling apart from the crowded frontier romance corral, is that faith runs through this book the way a river runs through dry land. It’s not preachy. It’s not tacked on for decoration. It’s there in the quiet moments, in the prayers that sound less like stained glass and more like real people bargaining with God in the dark.

“You gave him a mind that can heal people. You put him here long enough for us to lean on it. If You send him back, You will have to deal with what that does to my heart because I cannot pretend it will not hurt.” (KOMH Chapter 28)

That is not the prayer of a woman with everything buttoned up. That is a wounded heroine at the end of her rope, talking to God the way you talk to someone you trust even when you’re furious. It is the kind of honesty that readers highlighted, marked, and came back to. One reviewer confessed she “was tempted to highlight the entire book.”

The spiritual throughline challenges what one reader called “the deep-rooted belief in our own self-sufficiency.” Both Cecelia and Jimmy arrive in the story convinced their strength is enough. The smallpox outbreak, the rivals-to-respect tension, the frontier medicine clash between Jimmy’s medical school training and Robin “Singing Bird” Manning’s plant knowledge — every plot element conspires to prove them wrong in the most grace-filled way possible.

And that is exactly where God meets them — not in the moments when they have it together, but in the ones when they finally admit they don’t.

Why Readers Can’t Stop Talking About This One

Book Six earned the loudest ovation in the series. Reviewers who had followed the Discerning God’s Best series from the beginning called it the best yet. New readers who started here found it completely accessible. The details (period-accurate frontier life, class differences, gender roles, Indigenous plant medicine) drew readers so deep into 1870s Missouri they could practically smell the saddle leather and wood smoke.

And unlike so many historical romances where the heroine’s spunk is waiting to be tamed, Cecelia’s strength is never the problem. Jimmy doesn’t come in to fix her. He comes in to be her equal. As a reader summed it up with refreshing directness: “It is nice to hear a male character that isn’t the macho hero we so frequently see in romance novels.”

Grab Your Copy and Join the Giveaway!

Keeper of My Heart is available now on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited.

And here’s the fun part. I’m giving away an eBook copy of Keeper of My Heart! Leave a comment below and answer this question to enter: 

Cecelia is the girl no man can tame, until the right one stops trying to. Have you ever met someone who challenged you in ways you didn’t expect? Did it change you?

Heidi would love to hear your story.

I will draw a winner from all comments and will be in touch directly. So don’t be shy. Pull up a chair, leave your thoughts, and invite your friends to come on over and chat. I will be here to ride the conversation alongside you.

Don’t miss the rest of the Discerning God’s Best series, and keep your eyes on the horizon for what’s coming next. Cecelia’s sister, Serafina, left readers hungry for more, and the trail doesn’t end here.

AUTHOR BIO: Heidi Gray McGill is an award-winning Christian fiction author who proves that a bit of humor and faith can go a long way—even when writing with her nose practically touching the screen. Since launching her writing journey in March 2020, Heidi has penned nine books that artfully blend God’s love and wisdom into historical and contemporary fiction. Her Discerning God’s Best series has snagged five NEST awards, with “Dial E for Endearment” even making a splash as a finalist for the CIA Award (no spies involved, just good storytelling).

Heidi’s characters are like that perfect cup of coffee—warm, relatable, and sometimes just what you need to get through the day. Her stories don’t just entertain; they offer a comforting dose of healing through God’s Word.

Living in a cozy town near Charlotte, NC, Heidi shares her life with her husband of over thirty years, who, rumor has it, is as devoted as her readers. When she’s not cooking up a storm, beating everyone at board games, or getting lost in a good book, she supports fellow authors, passing on the encouragement that has fueled her writing.

Curious? Visit HeidiGrayMcGill.com to connect with Heidi, follow her on social media, and maybe even snag a free prequel to her bestselling series. Because who doesn’t love a good story, especially one that brings a little light into your day?

Christian Fiction. Relatable Characters. Life-changing stories. Fusing Faith and Fiction™.

 

Eliza Barchus – The Oregon Artist

by

Since it is Women in History Month, I thought I’d share about a woman who is no longer well-known, but her career added beauty to the world around her.

Eliza Barchus was an artist who eventually became known as “The Oregon Artist.”

Born in 1857 in Salt Lake City, Utah, Eliza didn’t recall much about her father, other than that he died when she was young. When she was seventeen, she wed John Lansing. The couple had two children, one of whom died in infancy, before the marriage “failed” and they divorced. Eliza then wed John Barchus and the couple moved to Portland with her daughter Isabel in 1880. They had a daughter who died at birth, then a son, Harold, and another daughter, Agnes.

With an admiration for Western landscapes, Eliza began taking art lessons in 1884 from Will S. Parrott, who was known at the time as the “foremost artist” of  Portland.” Eliza sold her first painting of Mount Rainier for $1  a year later.

In 1887 she won a gold medal at the Portland Mechanics Fair Art Exhibition for a painting of Mount Hood.

In 1890, a large oil painting she’d made of Mount Hood was displayed in New York City at the National Academy of Design and was considered quite an honor. It was also that year that several of her paintings were displayed at the Portland Hotel at the cigar and souvenir concession area. Her husband, who suffered from ill health, went south in the winter and persuaded an art emporium in Los Angeles to sell her paintings as well.

To supplement the family income, Eliza began to barter paintings for work by carpenters, plumbers, and other tradesmen as well as professional services from a dentist and physician. Eliza also sold her paintings, but to create additional income she sold modestly priced color postcards and illustrated brochures with reproductions of her work. Those marketing techniques helped immensely when her husband passed in 1899 and Eliza became the sole supporter of her family.

She produced thousands of paintings in what was referred to as an “assembly line” style  of working on several canvases at once, doing similar parts on each canvas, that kept a roof over their heads, but was sometimes criticized. She advertised her paintings in catalogs and developed a good business through the mail.

In 1901, Eliza exhibited several paintings at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. Four years later, she won a gold medal at the Lewis & Clark Centennial Exposition in Portland for a collection of her Pacific coast landscapes.

Through the 1920s, Eliza traveled the Western United States, painting everything from the Cascade Range volcanoes to the Columbia Gorge, Yellowstone Falls, Yosemite National Park, San Francisco Bay, and hundreds of other locations.

She worked primarily with oils through the 1930s. Her career ended in 1935 when arthritis and failing eyesight made it impossible for her to continue painting. She lived to the age of 102. Eleanor Roosevelt marked Eliza’s 100th birthday in her syndicated column. Eliza had a long career, sustained by her business intelligence and her talent and skill.

After her death, the Oregon Legislative Assembly declared her “The Oregon Artist.” Today, examples of her work may be found in art collections in Portland and around the country.

Do you have a favorite artist?

What do you love most about their artwork?

To stay up on our latest releases and have some fun, too, join our Facebook Reader Group HERE!

 

Petticoats & Pistols