May Book of the Month:
nThe Dragon Wore A Kilt 

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n nIn the northern reaches of Scotland rests Loch Saorach, home to an ancient legend—a dragon. The Matasan family has guarded the loch and its dragon for centuries. n nOver the years Saorach has claimed humans, imbuing them with his fae magic. Connor Matasan, the arrogant Earl of Glencarol, is a recent acquisition. Like all those possessed and transformed by the dragon’s ancient magic, Connor is sith, immortal and commanding powers beyond the human norm. n nMiddle aged wife and mother Lila is vacationing in Scotland when Saorach chooses her to join his brood. Her transformation to an eternally young sith is painful and compounded by the loss of everything she holds dear. Waking to a new life, she is utterly dependent upon Connor and his family. Lila feels trapped and resents that the dragon has bound her to Connor, soul to soul, passion to passion: a passion Connor cannot control, a passion Lila fears. n nWill the magic that brought them together destroy them?n n nBuy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B014N34IU2n n

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Excerpt Pt 1 

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n​He swam around the monster’s lithe, snakelike neck and grabbed a bit of cloth. Lungs burning, he needed air—desperately. The lake monster stilled and fixed a bushel basket sized eye upon him and the barely discernible body he grasped. 
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nConnor’s own eyes narrowed and he sent a warning to the monster to leave well enough alone.
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nDo fola liom éileamh, ionúin Saorach. The claim rang clearly through his mind, vibrated through his flesh. He remembered those words from long ago and knew they were not for him that time. He gasped, sucking in a lungful of water. And his vision began to burn as much as his lungs. 
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nThe loch’s oldest and most enduring resident dropped the mangled vehicle from its toothy jaws and snaked a head beneath them. With casually brute strength, the monster lifted them to the surface and pushed them to the shore. With a snort, the ancient beast cast a baleful glance at the puny man and woman and sank back into the dark, cold depths. 
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nConnor heaved air, coughed, vomited water, and sucked in another breath. He rolled over the plump, middle aged woman and pressed against her to expel the loch’s water from her lungs. The water was tinged red and he began to tremble. He turned her over, tilted her head back, and covered her mouth with his, pushing air from his lungs into hers. He breathed for them both, then took a moment to arrange his hands over her sternum and pump several times rhythmically. In the periphery of his vision, he saw the water dragon’s head rise partially from the water and then sink once again. 
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Enemies to Lovers Billionaire Romance ​

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nhttps://www.silverdaggertours.com/tour-sign-ups/focus-tour-sign-upsn

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n nProfessional photographer Dana Secrest has a secret and doesn’t even know it. When she storms from her best friend’s home on Christmas Eve—not the wisest decision she’s ever made—security contractor Sam Galdicar follows her to save her from her own hot temper and impulsive action. Upon arriving home, Dana discovers her apartment has been ransacked. Then an attempt is made on her life. She doesn’t know who’s trying to kill her or why, but Sam is determined to protect the woman whose eyes don’t need a camera to see the truth. ​n n n nOrder  nhttps://www.amazon.com/FOCUS-Holly-Bargo-ebook/dp/B086JCWCZT/n n

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Sonya Excerpt
n​*Warning: Not Suitable For All Readers

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nSuzanne looked at me, her expression steady and giving nothing away. I understood that going or staying was my choice. She would not interfere with my decision.
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nI averted my gaze and whispered, “No.”
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n“I’m under orders, Mrs. Vermont.”
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nSuzanne’s hand settled over mine, warm over my cold flesh. Her touch gave me strength. I repeated my answer in a hoarse voice, “No.”
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n“Mr. Vermont will not be pleased.”
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nI shuddered, knowing that the punishment he’d mete out would be beyond anything I’d ever suffered for prior defiance. Slowly, I stood and raised my skirt, exposing the dark bruises and welts on my upper thighs as well as haute couture silk panties. I heard the hiss of indrawn breath behind me. The reverend had come home, followed by his mother.
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n“Brutality offends the Lord!” Reverend Blankenship shouted. He glowered at Gordon and pointed one thick finger at him. “Begone, minion of Satan! Begone from God’s house!”
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nGordon’s cold eyes flared with some strong emotion—or perhaps it was just annoyance. He nodded, turned on his heel, and departed. I released my skirt and let the heavy fabric fall back into place.
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nRev. Blankenship held my gaze as he seated himself at the table and his wife brought him a slice of pie and a glass of cold milk. He took a bite then said, “Your husband’s a powerful man, Mrs. Vermont.”
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nI nodded.
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n“This won’t be easy.”
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nI nodded again.
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n“Howard, you could lose your position over this,” his mother hissed.
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nStruck by the consequences the reverend and his family were likely to suffer for supporting my bid for freedom, I turned to leave.
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n“A shepherd cares for his flock and rescues those that are lost,” he intoned. “As Jesus Christ saved the world, I can do nothing less than save one of my flock.”
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nI trembled, unsure whether to stay or go. A pair of warm hands settled on my shoulders and gently turned me around. I looked into the soft smile of Suzanne Blankenship’s kindness.
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n“No woman should bear marks like that. You’re staying with us.”
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n​My fragile control shattered and I collapsed into her arms, weeping as though my heart had broken. As though something else had broken inside me, I felt liquid warmth soak my panties and run down my legs. Suzanne gasped. I looked down. Blood trickled over the expensive leather of my shoe.
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Anyone who truly knows me knows that I dislike … no, loathe … chickens. I grew up with chickens, so it’s not like I arrived at my abhorrence of them based on an utter lack of experience. Chickens are nasty, filthy, vicious, disgusting creatures that deserve to die and be offered up on my plate.

This is why anyone who truly knows me will be surprised at the latest addition to the home farm: chickens.

After an unusually warm and wet winter, the bugs are already out in force, especially flies and ticks. I have a strong reluctance toward drenching my farm with pesticides. Nasty chemicals. I don’t want to poison my horses or my water supply.

So, I figured the best pest control was natural. What eats bugs? Chickens and guinea hens.

It’s a slippery slope I set foot upon.

I put the word out: I’m seeking mature birds, not chicks. (The barn cat will kill chicks.) I’m not interested in collecting eggs or butchering birds. I want bug-eating machines. If you’re looking to rehome a few chickens, such as hens that have stopped laying eggs, I’ll take them off your hands.

I got a response. Someone in the extended neighborhood had a couple of black silkie roosters he wanted to rehome. I was hesitant: roosters tend to be aggressive. He assured me they weren’t. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I picked them up and brought them home.

Now what? They need a shelter that isn’t my barn. So, I improvised. We have large, plastic, 55-gallon barrels left over from the alpaca and llama 4-H days. With my husband’s assistance, we tossed in some old hay for bedding and lay one of the barrels down in what’s left of the loafing shed. He set it on jump standards to keep it off the wet ground. In went the two chickens.

The next morning, I checked on them. They were still in the barrel, quiet and content. I figured they were probably hungry, so I pulled them from the barrel and set them on the ground beside a pan of grain. They squawked for several minutes, then calmed down. A few minutes later, they were doing what chickens do: pecking the ground and eating. So, the chickens know where their “nest” is and they’re settling in.

The horses aren’t sure what to make of these new critters, but I could grow fond these little guys. They’re not aggressive. They’re not obnoxiously loud. They’re kind of cute.

​I’d like to bring home a few more–just a few for bug control.

Good grief, I have chickens.