Hens Lay Eggs
food for thought
Satin Boots #HollyBargo #MFRWhooks
Six Short Western Romances
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nEnjoy these sweet, clean romances set in the American Old West: n |
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nExcerpt: Angels High
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nA woman who makes her living by winning at a man’s game learns to expect trouble, especially when the stakes are high. But when trouble finds her this time, Angelica Durant gets more than she bargained for.
nTwisting the end of his luxurious mustache, Albert Derringer looked at the woman who took a newly vacated seat at the table. She’d been sitting nearby, watching the play for the last hour. Setting both hands on the table, he leaned forward and said, “Ma’am, women ain’t allowed to gamble here.”
nThe woman leaned forward, displaying a hint of décolletage, just enough to pique a man’s interest and distract his thoughts, and said, “Show me where that’s written and I’ll leave.”
nAlbert couldn’t because the establishment had no such written code of conduct and admittance. The woman’s lips curled in a tiny smile of triumph. She opened her reticule and pulled out the money for her stake in the game. The four other men at the table looked at the gold coins with greedy interest.
n“Al, if she’s got the money, let her play,” Harold Everhart said as he rubbed his palms together. “We’ll be happy to win her money.”
n“I like the looks of her money and her face,” Chester MacAllister remarked with a curt nod. “Better’n looking at your ugly mugs, boys.”
nGood-natured laughter followed his comment.
n“Deal the lady in,” Jesse Cordoba said, his voice cool and haughty as befitted the son of a Spanish hidalgo and a Boston society debutante.
nThe fourth player, expression concealed behind a bushy black beard stained with tobacco and other substances, grunted and nodded, which the others inferred as assent.
nWith a sigh meant to convey unwilling obedience to the gamblers’ wishes, the dealer picked up a deck of cards.
n“If you don’t mind,” the woman said as she withdrew a brand new deck of cards from her handbag, “please use these. I’d hate to soil my new gloves on those filthy cards.”
nNot one man there could argue that the cards they had been playing with were dirty. They looked at her pristine white gloves and sighed with resignation.
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n“How do we know them cards ain’t marked?” Harold inquired with beady-eyed suspicion.
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nChester snorted at the idea that a woman, even one who cheated, could match wits and card playing skills with them.
nReaching across the table, she handed Harold the small cardboard box. In a soft southern drawl that hinted at beignets, strong coffee, and sweet spices from far off lands across the sea, she replied, “It hasn’t even been opened, sir. Please, do check it to verify. I have neither the desire nor the inclination to be dishonest with you fine gentlemen.”
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nHarold looked over the box, noting that the paper wrapper had not been disturbed. With a nod, he handed it to Jesse who examined it and passed it around the table until it returned to the woman who handed it to the dealer. Albert looked it over and, since the other players did not object to using the lady’s deck of cards, found nothing for complaint. He shrugged his shoulders and, with deft efficiency, broke the seal, unwrapped the fresh deck, and shuffled the cards.n
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Change of plans
First trail ride with Diva (chestnut) and Teddy (bay).n
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nOn Saturday, August 22, I went to visit my horses, Diva and Teddy, where they’re being trained. Both, by the way, are doing well. The trainer and I went for a trail ride around the farm. She rode Teddy, which means I rode Diva. It was the first time Diva and Teddy had been ridden in company together; they’re usually ridden alone.
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nWe didn’t get off to a great start.
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nDiva did not want to move forward. Neither did Teddy. Finally, the trainer got Teddy moving. Once that happened, Diva was ready to move, too. She quickly outpaced Teddy, who’s a little more than a hand smaller than she, with a fast-paced, businesslike, purposeful walk that basically says, “I’ve got places to go, things to do, and people to see–and none of it involves you–so, let’s get this done!” Head up and alert, she was aware of everything and not at all relaxed.
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nThat might come in time, or maybe not. It never did with Stasia. In fact, Diva’s fast-forward walk is much like Stasia’s was.
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nWe battled B-52 bomber sized horseflies and prickly teasel. Diva didn’t mind the teasel, but the flies definitely bothered her. I’ve a mind to try a non-chemical horse fly deterrent: mounting a plastic dragonfly to the headstall. On an earlier trail ride with my friend Cindra, I tried Vick’s VapoRub as a recommended fly repellent. It didn’t work.
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nThe ride lasted 20 or 30 minutes, not long. Diva wore a bosal instead of the usual bridle with snaffle bit. The trainer stated Diva apparently prefers the bosal to the bit. I felt more confident using the bosal. So, I ordered a bosal with pretty teal accents that will look nice against “the monster’s” vivid chestnut hide and coordinate with a practically new, garish, purple and teal saddle blanket waiting to be used.
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nWe traversed across asphalt, navigated around and over roadside litter, and walked while vehicles rolled past. Diva was all looky-loo, but the traffic didn’t seem to startle or bother her. That’s good.
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nWe discovered that Teddy really doesn’t like to be left behind. Other than fighting the trainer to catch up to the big red mare, he did well, too.
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nSo, once again, I changed my mind. I guess I’ll be keeping Diva, since she’s doing so well. Of course, that might change. But that means I’m not sure what to do with Teddy. Next visit to the trainer, I intend to ride him, something I need to do before bringing the horses home. How will Teddy respond to me?
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nShould I keep Teddy as a companion for Diva and ride him every other time? Or should I try to find him a home where he’ll get regular (and frequent) use? He’d be a terrific for some kid in US Pony Club: he’s speedy, smooth, and can jump. Really, he’d make a great hunter-jumper type of pony.
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nTime and opportunity (or lack thereof) will help me decide.
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nIn another change of mind, I abandoned the sequel to Hogtied. The story couldn’t flow past another story that was beating against my skull. So, I switched gears and started a new story, a paranormal, historical romance. I fully intend to come back to the Hogtied sequel, but don’t know when that will happen. In the meantime, I’m struggling with the new story. Nothing’s coming easily right now.
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nMaybe I need a break. Or maybe I just need some inspiration. Regardless, I’ll be heading off to a twice monthly art class. I’ve no particular skill in applying paint to canvas, but it’s fun.n
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nRussian Pride on Sale #MFRWhooks
Russian Love Series Book 4 on sale this weekend only.
August Book Of The Month
nBuy The Series
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nRescued from domestic abuse, Bratva princess Inessa recuperates from the latest beating in the home of Giovanni Maglione, the mafia captain of Cleveland. Learning that her husband double-crossed the Chinese triad, and they want their pound of flesh–and they’re happy to take it out of Inessa–her parents ask Giovanni to marry their newly widowed daughter. The Chinese triad will be looking for a Russian mobster’s wife, not the wife of an Italian mobster. Inessa agrees to this marriage of convenience which, of course, isn’t so convenient. The ruse fails, which forces Giovanni into a violent and bloody mob war, because he protects what’s his… and Inessa is most definitely his. n n n
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