Hey, all! Moonlight Kitty here to announce the winner of the April $25 Gift Card Giveaway sponsored by Beth Caudill. Congratulations to Cate Parke! Cate, please contact Beth at beth@bethcaudill.net to claim your prize. And happy shopping!

The May contest, sponsored by Niecey Roy, is underway now. Don’t forget, every time you leave a comment on a post during the month, that comment enters you in the monthly giveaway.

And, it’s almost time for the Authors By Moonlight annual Summer Solstice Bash coming in June! This year we’re gearing up for a month full of “Summer Lovin’” and the prize basket is going to be overflowing with love, too! You’ll have mega chances to win a Kindle Paperwhite, e-books, and other great prizes. Keep an eye out for full details coming soon!

Spring is here and the kids are ready for their week long break.

Between working on the taxes, keeping my son on his homeschool schedule and normal household chores like laundry and dishes, I’m not exactly ready to become their fulltime entertainment for a week.  It’s been looming all month and I’m still not sure what we’re going to do.

Red Wolf

Temperatures are about 20 degrees below normal and that makes outside activities difficult.  I’m hoping for a warming spell because I’d planned on taking the kids to the zoo.  They enjoy seeing the different animals and it’s a trip that wears them out.  Also on my list are trips to the bookstore and toy store to use some gift cards we have leftover from Christmas.

Usually I’d start getting the garden in shape but with it so cold I’m still worried about freezing.  One bright spot is that my inlaws volunteered to take the kids for Easter Weekend.  They leave Thursday and hubby and I will pick them up on Sunday.  It’s a welcome break I wasn’t expecting.  I plan to spend most of my free time writing.

But I still have all of next to plan for. So Moonlighters,what are you suggestions for Spring Break activities?

Life moves quickly.  Recently I’ve been so busy, my computer has been left dorment. A closed lump stuck on my desk.  I’m Mommy-the-Homework-Guardian, Mommy-the-Chauffeur, Dog-Walker-Extraordinaire, and Bossy-Wife-of-the-House.  What I’ve not been is Beth-Ms-Reads-a-Lot or Beth-the-Fantasy-World-Creator.

In my current WIP, I need to rewrite a banquet scene but nothing comes to mind.  I can’t see the guests, smell the fairy food or hear the haunting music of the nymphs.  It’s all a blank.  A lot of this is due to the stresses in my life right now.  I’m giving so much time to everyone else in the family, I feel as if I’ve lost myself.  If I don’t know where I am, how can I find my characters?

This week I realized something else….I’ve stopped reading.  I didn’t make a conscious choice.  It just sorta happened.  One day I checked out 5 books from the library and the next I’m a week late returning them and never cracked a spine.  I’ve scanned my TBR pile and nothing looks good.  Oh, they’re all books I want to read but nothing calls to me and every night I pass by the TBR pile by.

But reading is something I do for me.  It’s my escape and should not be forgotten.  The ABM authors have great titles available but what else do you recommend for someone who has a lot of reading to catch up on?

Three baby boomer relive their trip to Woodstock in ’69.  One final road trip. One last chance to say Goodbye Emily.

Most readers of Goodbye Emily enjoy reading a Woodstock love story, but when I began the novel, my focus wasn’t on the musical event. I wanted to write a story with a main character in his early sixties portraying baby boomers the way I see us— funny, idealistic as we were in the sixties, sexually active and optimistic about the future. And baby boomers can still fall in love.

I’ve been thrilled with the response to the novel. Author Jen Estes said, “Goodbye Emily is amusing, heartwarming and inviting. Through Sparky’s healing journey, we discover that while we can’t escape heartbreak, we can’t let that keep us from pursuing love. I laughed, I cried…I thoroughly enjoyed Goodbye Emily.”

Author Lynne Morgan Spreen said, “I chuckled along, and in places I cried, and I finished the book with sad/happy tears running down my face – happy to have enjoyed the memories and sad for the days gone by.”

More reviews are available at www.goodbyeemily.com

Here’s a brief scene early in the book when the main character wakes up in the ER and is diagnosed with broken heart syndrome.

Most of my life, I was the luckiest man alive. I loved my wife to the moon and back, and she loved me even more. I adored my daughter and remained close to my best friends, Josh and Buck. I relished the role of respected professor at Milton College. For more than thirty years, I taught students things they didn’t know, and I learned from them. Life was perfect, until Emily’s cancer. Then it all fell apart.

I had nothing left except Cloe, Lady and booze to take away the pain and help me sleep. Life had spun out of control, and as painful as it was to admit, I had no idea how to get it back.

The patient in the next bed continued his phlegm-clearing even in his sleep. The hospital wasn’t doing him much good.

I climbed from the bed and winced from my aches and pains and a tug against my chest hairs by the heart monitor sensors. The wheels on the monitor squeaked as I moved it closer to the patient in the next bed. I peeked through the curtains to make sure the man was still asleep. I ripped off my sensors and stuck them to his chest.

His eyes blinked open. “Who are you?”

“A … a volunteer. Go back to sleep.”

His eyes fluttered closed.

The monitor barely missed a beat. With a satisfied chuckle, I retrieved my clothes from beneath the bed. I tossed the hospital gown into the corner and changed.

Even with the tear in my Steelers jacket I felt better already. I poked my head out the curtains. While nurses and doctors tended to really sick people, I followed the signs, left through the main entrance and made my great escape from the ER.

I took my health seriously, but it was my health. I didn’t need a wisecracking doctor and a battery of tests to mend my broken heart. I stuffed both hands in my jacket against the chilly early morning and began the long walk home to Lady.

Visit Michael Murphy’s web site

Goodbye Emily is available on Kindle and Nook and a bookstore near you.

Why is it, exactly, some books are merely okay, while others you cannot put down to save your life?  I’ve been pondering this question for a while.  Is it the story?  The characters?  What?  Why is To Kill a Mockingbird still one of the best stories ever told?  What sort of magic has Stephanie Meyer tapped into when she wrote her Twilight series?  Why can’t I stop chuckling every time I pick up my copy of Beyond Heaving Bosoms?  Okay, that last book is not a novel, but a rather hilarious glimpse into the world of romance writing.  Still, I am moved to tears with reading the blasted book.

One of my favorite things to do when reading a “keeper” book is to try and figure out why it worked so well.  Recently, I read Gaelen Foley’s My Wicked Marquess and knew within the first ten pages this book would stay with me to the grave.  So, the first thing a “keeper” book must have is a good opening.  Of course, having an interesting plot is a must as well.  Just one look at the following blurb and you know there’s no boring stuff going on inside Eclipse:

As Seattle is ravaged by a string of mysterious killings and a malicious vampire continues her quest for revenge, Bella once again finds herself surrounded by danger.  In the midst of it all, she is forced to choose between her love for Edward and her friendship with Jacob—knowing that her decision has the potential to ignite the ageless struggle between vampire and werewolf.  With her graduation quickly approaching, Bella has one more decision to make:  life or death.  But which is which?

I feel, and others may disagree, that the characters are the most important part of a story.  I have to care about them.  They pull me into the story and make me keep reading.  I must feel for them when they go through the harrowing journey of falling in love.  I must laugh when they say something funny; I must cry when their world comes crashing down around them; I must be moved to tears when they finally figure it out.  Something about the characters must stir my soul, where I have to keep turning the page to find out what happens to them.  Then, when the last page is read, I must be spitting mad that I can’t read more.  With a “keeper” book, I continue to think about the characters long after the book is put down.  I must wonder what they were like when their children had children and what happened as they grew old.  Do you ever wonder what Scout and Jem were like as adults?  I do.  For surely, those children lived and breathed and grew old, even if Harper Lee really did make them up.

Finally, I think a “keeper” book must beget more “keeper” books.  We romance writers must be so moved with what we’ve read, we wish to write our own “keepers.”  I am very interested in knowing what books you’ve read lately you would consider a “keeper” and why.

~~Tiffany~~

www.tiffanygreen.net

I am so excited to introduce to ABM a new author with a great debut novel. Lael Neill now lives in Central Texas but her roots are in the Northwest. Her book, STONE DREAMING WOMAN,  from Wild Rose Press, has already received high praise on the Amazon.com reader review. It is available as an ebook now and will be out in hard copy in March. I asked Lael to tell ABM readers about her book and how a Texas gal wound up writing about Mounties and medicine women of the early Twentieth Century. This is how our visit went.

FC:  Your story STONE DREAMING WOMAN is set in the period just before WWI in Canada. What inspired you to use that time and setting? Do you have a strong personal interest that suggested the story?

LN: The very first romance that ever caught hold of my imagination and my heart was MRS. MIKE, by Benedict and Nancy Mars Freedman.  I fell in love with the hero, so I wove a story of my own about a Royal Northwest Mounted Police officer and a woman whose background was about as far removed from his as I could imagine.

I grew up in Tacoma, Washington, only about an hour and a half from the British Columbia border.  I am very familiar with western Canada, and I originally imagined setting the story there.  However, the Mounted Police did not have jurisdiction over British Columbia until much later, so I was faced with a choice.  I either had to move the timeline up or I had to reset the story in a different area.  Moving the timeline would have reduced the impact of the basic theme of the story (gender bias), so changing the setting seemed the more logical course to take.

The period before WWI was a real watershed concerning the role of women in society.  They had fought for and won the right to vote, and were crusading for reproductive rights and gender equality.  The resistance at that time was much greater than during or after the war.  In Jenny’s case, the lack of physicians stateside and the demands of the Spanish Flu epidemic created a vacuum that would have sucked her into a medical practice somewhere out of people’s sheer need and desperation, hence the necessity of setting the story before the war heated up.

FC:  Your heroine Jennifer is a medical doctor in a time when few women, certainly not women with social stature, dared enter the medical profession. And your story shows a lot of medical knowledge. Do you have a medical background? Or did you build the character based on research? The details in your story are impressive.

LN: I do not have a medical background, but my education included detailed a five semester hour honors course in human anatomy.  It both fascinated me and provided enough basic grounding that I could expand my knowledge and understanding on my own.  I also have a trick memory for trivia.  If it’s something I’ll absolutely never have any possible use for, I’ll remember it.  For instance, the little bony bumps we sit on are called ischial tuberosities.

I did have to conduct a boatload of research for the story, though.  Most of it had to do with the state of medical practices and knowledge of the time and if, how, and when things like surgical gloves and stethoscopes changed over the years.  I also had to research firearms of the period and, of course, fashions, though I had some expert help in that regard.

FC:  What led you to set the story in Canada? Surely that made heavy demands on you as an author. The setting is a major feature of the book and contributes to the conflicts the characters face. You weave it seamlessly into prose. Did you know when you started the story that the place would influence the story so much?

LN: The story had to be set in Canada because you don’t find Mounties anywhere else.  And yes, I did know that the setting would influence the story.  Local color is one of the best ways to achieve realism.  Until I moved to Texas I was an outdoors girl, which included fishing, camping, hiking, scuba diving, target shooting, and skiing, so describing the woods, the mountains, the rivers, the salt water, and the seasons comes very naturally.

FC:  I’ve heard it said that one good story opens the door to many more. Will there be more stories with this location and time? Maybe centering on characters we meet in STONE DREAMING WOMAN?

LN: I ’m working on a sequel right now involving Jenny’s younger cousin Elizabeth.  Without giving away too much, the hero is Sergeant Paul Weller, the best friend and sidekick of Jenny’s love interest in STONE DREAMING WOMAN.  Elizabeth and Paul are coming through as a well defined characters in their own right and their story is clamoring to be told.  At this point the working title is SAND ISLAND DIARIES.

FC:  Your first book is a vintage romance. Do you write about other times and places? Can you give us a hint where we might find you next? What audience will you be writing for?

LN: I have a story all but finished, but since I did it as a point of view exercise, it needs a complete rewrite before it goes anywhere.  It takes place in and around New Orleans during the period between the Louisiana Purchase and the War of 1812, the sunset of the age of Caribbean piracy.  The heroine is the daughter of a British naval officer and an aristocratic lady from New Orleans.  Marianne has the temerity to fall in love with her father’s worst enemy, a privateer sailing under Letters of Marque from France.  The target audience for MAGNIFICENT PIRATE is, of course, the same audience who will enjoy STONE DREAMING WOMAN and SAND ISLAND DIARIES.

Even though I am exploring the world of romance writing now, I have always had an abiding love of fantasy.  A huge and very different “swords and sorcery” trilogy lurks in my computer, hopefully to find a publisher someday.  In it, two powerful and very different men on opposite sides of a rebellion forge an unlikely friendship to bring peace to their war-torn country.

FC:  What book/books first inspired you to tell stories?  What story elements did they have in common? All romances? Adventure? Strong and unconventional heroines? Do you remember the first story you created?

LN: The book that first inspired me to tell stories came my way when I was eight years old.  Those of us “of a certain age” remember the WEEKLY READER and JUNIOR SCHOLASTIC magazines we purchased through our schools.  I had never found it easy to go to sleep, so when I read one of the letters to the editor from a little girl who said when she could not sleep she told herself a fairy tale, I decided to try her tactic.  After going through CINDERELLA and SNOW WHITE ad nauseam, I thought, “Well, how boring is this?  Why don’t I tell myself MY OWN stories?”  Thus a writer was born.

I played with writing until I started high school, and when I had a little maturity under my belt the bug bit seriously.  Then at Central Washington University I had the rare privilege of studying creative writing under Dr. Harold L. Anschutz, a totally brilliant professor who loved his subject and loved his students.  He was also my faculty advisor, so after worshiping at his feet for four years, writing was so deeply ingrained in me I knew, like Lady MacBeth, I would never be able to wash it from my hands or out of my soul.

I became deeply involved in skiing and alpine racing then, so naturally my main characters were skiers.  The stories were both romances and adventures, with brave heroes and strong heroines who knew their own minds and were not afraid to go for broke.  Some of those characters from way back when have survived and cropped up in a Vietnam-era romance I have tentatively called GOING PRO.  It concerns a sheltered young man who retires from the Austrian Olympic team, comes to the United States to manage a ski school, and encounters American culture.  It is a very long and very complex story that may or may not see the light of day.  Writing is like that.

FC:  Will you give us a short scene from STONE DREAMING WOMAN? Something to whet our appetites.

They finished their food, and he helped her clear the table.  She discovered they made as good a team doing something as mundane as picking up dishes as they did saving a life.  She rinsed the bean pot and the bowls, then put all the dishes in the pot and covered them with water.  Then she dried her hands on the flour sack towel and anointed them with her favorite Honey Almond Cream.

“There.  That’s good enough.  We’ll do them with the breakfast dishes in the morning,” she said.  He had moved behind her to return the butter to the cooler, and when she turned she bumped into him.

“Sergeant!  Excuse me!”  A toucher, she laid her palms above the breast pockets of his tunic by way of apology.  Impulsively he covered her hands with his.

“Miss Weston, I can’t thank you enough for what you did today, for being kind enough to come to North Village with me, and for saving Jimmy’s life.  He’d have been in dire trouble without you, Miss Weston…”  He paused awkwardly, stumbling over her name.  “No, I… Doctor Weston?  I’m not certain how I should address you now.  After today, ‘Miss Weston’ sounds so frivolous…”

“ ‘Jenny’ will do quite nicely, Sergeant.”

His gaze leveled on her, and he gave her a deeply searching look that was all grey eyes and hugely long lashes.  “I have a first name too, you know,” he said softly.

“Touché.  Shane.”  She smiled and felt her cheeks flush.  “Then have a good night.”

“You too.”  Her hands lay trapped against his Red Serge.  She turned them beneath his and held them palm to palm for a moment.

“Until tomorrow, then…Shane,” she said awkwardly.

“I look forward to it.”  Then he reluctantly let her hands go, drawing a deep, nervous breath.

“Jenny?  May I call on you, then?  With Richard’s permission, of course.”

“It would be my honor entirely.”  His hands went slowly to the points of her shoulders, and he drew her to him.  She closed her eyes and tipped her head back.  All her senses were full of him, from his warmth to the masculine scent of soap, sunshine, and the wool of his Red Serge.  She let her hands travel to his muscular shoulders, and as he gathered her into his arms, her left hand slipped over the standing collar of his tunic to the slightly long hair at the nape of his neck.  It felt soft, satiny, and much finer than her own.  Then his lips met hers, gently and tenderly, the stimulating touch of warm velvet.  As she flowed up against him, the night turned to fireworks.

The kiss was exactly what she would have expected from Shane: undemanding, powerful, and thoroughly exciting.  Then he held her close and pressed his cheek against her hair and she let her arms encircle his back.  He was a big armful for her.  His lips traveled across her cheek and he nuzzled into her hair.

“Oh, Jenny,” he whispered, sending a shiver from her heels to the top of her head.  Then they kissed again.  This time his red-clad arms engulfed her and she was lost in the incredible power that was Shane Adair.  She went weak all over and plastered herself against his chest.  She wanted to blurt out that she loved him madly, but that was a frightening idea.  She laid her hand against his cheek and backed up a few inches.  His face held high color and he was breathing hard through flushed, slightly parted lips.

“Do I owe you an apology now?” he whispered.  Her arms tightened about him.  Then she raised her head just enough to look up into his eyes.

“No.  That was just as much my idea as yours.  Don’t apologize to me unless it was just a one-time impulse and you intend never to repeat yourself.

He proved to her that he was up to her one-line stingers.  “Chèrie, I’ll kiss you goodnight every night for the next eighty years if you’ll have it,” he said softly.

“In eighty years I’ll be a hundred and five!  Who in their right mind would want to kiss a hundred-and-five-year-old woman?”  The grey eyes tilted again.

“A totally smitten one-hundred-eight-year-old man,” he whispered, holding her hands against his chest.  She laughed softly.

“I swear, one of your ancestors had to have kissed the Blarney Stone!”

“Just wait eighty years and you’ll know that I’ve never meant anything more.”

“I’ll check again tomorrow, thank you.”

“Tomorrow, gladly.”  He raised her hands to his lips.

“Then good night, Shane.”

“Good night, Jenny.”  He leaned down and bestowed a chaste peck on her forehead.

“Sleep well.”

“I don’t think I’ll sleep at all, after this,” he sighed.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”  She backed away from him, letting her hands run softly through his.  Then she was gone, leaving behind an aura of Honey Almond Cream.

I had the fun of reading STONE DREAMING WOMAN while it was still in draft form and know first hand what a great tale it is. I’m really looking forward to the sequel and keep urging Lael to write fast so I can see how it all comes out. Thanks for sharing your time and your ideas with us, Lael. Come back soon and keep us informed about your projects.

Fleeta Cunningham

DON’T CALL ME DARLIN

BLACK RAIN RISING

ELOPEMENT FOR ONE’

HALF PAST MOURNING

CRY AGAINST THE WIND (forthcoming)

Turkey #3

My thanks to all who took a guess on my Turkey Contest! I have three winners! Congratulations! They are:

Quilt Lady
Lisa Rayns
Mina Gerhart

All three correctly guessed turkey #3 was the one I grew up with! I’d love to tell you how old that turkey is, but then I’d be giving you a hint as to my age!

My winners will be receiving a 2013 Wild Rose Press calendar plus some other goodies. If you’d still like a chance to win a calendar, I have many more to give away. Starting today I’m hosting a contest on my web site, and when I’m back here again in December on the 14th, I’ll be giving away some more then, too. So, be sure and check it out.

If you are one of my winners listed above, please email me at sherryjames@hamilton.net with your snail mail address.

And if you’re out and about and come across a honeycomb turkey, pick one up and enjoy the beauty these paper birds offer!

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Last week I finally finished and submitted a new story to Ellora’s Cave. I wrote a follow-up to Alpha vs. Alpha using the Predator-Match.com matchmaking service as the device to get my hero and heroine together. I’m very pleased with this story and I really like my hero and heroine. What’s so important about this story is that it’s been over a year since I had a release out. With my health issues last year, my production went to nil. This year I have come back from it and feel kind of phoenix-like with regards to my writing.

My only worry is that my previous editor at EC left and I’ve been reassigned. Now, I have heard from my crit partner (and others) that my new editors at EC are awesome, but I’m really kind of nervous about what their response will be to the story. Changing editors is just a part of this business and I know this…intellectually. But emotionally…not so much. My previous editor was the one who pulled me out of the slush pile and offered me my first contract. Mary was great to work with and I wish her well, but I am kind of nervous about my reception. I really hope my new editors love it! Keep your fingers crossed for me!

One thing that’s very good is that I’m confident in this story. I like my characters. The sex is hot. The conflict works, the end makes sense and it’s emotional. That makes me very happy. I’m proud of myself and very pleased that my characters decided to cooperate with me this time. So what’s the story about? Let me give you a taste. I hope you like it.

* * * * *

Leader of the Pack

©Francesca Hawley

Surgeon Dr. Per Goldwolf needs a mate to make partner in a prestigious practice.  Predator-Match.com—a matchmaking service for shapeshifters—not only finds him a mate, they match him with his True Mate. Yohana’s long legs and fair flesh make him lick his lips and her scent makes him rock hard.

New packleader Yohana Whitewolf’s life goal is to follow in her sire’s pawprints and lead her pack. Leadership demands sacrifices. To calm her people, Yohana needs a mate. But finding an Alpha male who won’t take over is a tall order. Yohana didn’t want the complication of a True Mate, but Per is a sexy, intelligent Alpha male and she wants to shred his clothes every time she touches him.

Everything should be perfect—except she’s a packleader— and the Whitewolf pack is nervous.

* * * * *

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: Leader of the Pack

Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2012

Leader of the Pack

Chapter One

Yohana Whitewolf paced Serena Goldwolf’s office barely containing her irritation and impatience. Between the flu plague sweeping through most of Denver, and her pack’s pressure to provide an heir, Yohana was ready to kill something.

Yohana knew the only way to prevent the pack from splintering was to find a Mate and soon, so she stayed in the deserted office. Her sire had died only six months ago, so she needed a firmer grasp on the job of packleader. A Mate and a pup were distraction to the vital work she must do. She sighed. Still, she needed to placate them in order to keep her place or the pack would disintegrate. She couldn’t allow it. She had a duty to prevent it, and she’d made a promise to Jeremiah—her father.

Yo restrained her annoyance because most of Serena’s staff at the shapeshifter match service Predator-Match.com was out with the flu, leaving them short-handed. The flu was sweeping through the Whitewolf pack too, so she could relate. Serena rushed into the room, flopping into her chair with a sigh. Yohana smiled reluctantly at her long-time friend.

“I think I need roller skates today, Yo. I am so sorry I’ve kept you waiting. There are just two of us in the office and of course we couldn’t reach people to cancel.” Serena groaned.

“I don’t think your Mate would approve of a female in your condition on roller skates.” Yohana’s dry response elicited a laugh from Serena. Serena patted her rounded belly.

“Maybe not, but I still could use some skates.”

Yohana sat down, a faint smile on her face. She remembered fondly pupsitting Serena years ago. They had remained friends and were like sisters in many ways because they were both only children and daughters of pack leaders.

The biggest difference between them, other than height, was that Serena had no interest in following her father as pack leader. She was happy being the Alpha female allowing her Alpha Male True Mate, Damien, to lead their burgeoning family. Leading the Whitewolf pack was all Yohana had ever wanted. She felt a deep commitment to guide and serve the members of her pack so they could all prosper. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

“You aren’t here for lunch, Yo.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you made an appointment with me. Are you finally going to let me put your profile together to help you hunt for a Mate?”

“I don’t want to hunt for a Mate. I need to find one.” Yo couldn’t stay in the chair any longer, so she rose to pace again.

Serena frowned. “Find one?” She pulled a pad of paper to her. “Okay, what’s going on and what do you want in a Mate?”

“My pack is what’s going on. They want a packleader with a stable Mate and me pregnant as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, they’ve been rumbling about my cousin, Dan, taking over if I can’t do what’s necessary. I’m looking for a male wolf who won’t fight me for my pack.”

“Oh, Yo, I’m sorry.” Serena started to get up but Yohana waved her back.

If someone hugged her, she’d break down and start crying. Yo just didn’t have time to let her emotions overwhelm her right now. “I know. I appreciate your concern.”

“You want a Beta then?” Serena blinked tears from her eyes starting to type into her computer database.

“I do, but every pack member I’ve asked about this doesn’t. They want me Mated to an Alpha.” Serena’s raised her gaze and her mouth dropped open, prompting a wry laugh from Yohana. “Yes, I know. Finding an Alpha not interested in running a pack is as likely as finding a needle in a haystack, but find him we must. I want a male who has a commitment elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“I don’t mean another female.” Yo shuddered. “Worried or not, the pack would never accept a male with another relationship. I mean an obsession with his career or a hobby. Something other than my pack.”

“You aren’t making this easy.”

“Life is hard. Even harder than finding a Mate obsessed with something other than dominating a pack, I want a male who is tall enough to look me in the eyes, not the tits. I’m 6’ tall, so I don’t want a short wolf. I’ve known some wonderful males who are short, but it won’t work for me to take one as a Mate. The Whitewolf pack will expect my Mate to be able to act as my enforcer if the need arises.”

“Some short males are extremely muscular and physical.”

“True. But when I date males who aren’t as tall as me, I seem to pick the ones who feel they need to prove something. I don’t choose well, which is why I’m here. I want a male with interests elsewhere and nothing to prove to anybody.”

“Every stipulation you add limits the pool.”

“I know, but I need to be Mated soon.”

“Why?”

“I’ll go into heat Friday or Saturday, and I want to get pregnant right away. It will ease the pressure if they know there is a new generation on the way.”

Serena shook her head. “Okay. What else? Let’s get everything out on the table.”

Yohana sighed as she paused by the window, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. Some females with her height looked like movie stars or fashion models, but Yo was built more along the lines of a linebacker. She was definitely her sire’s daughter. She glanced down, sighing. Correction, her sire’s daughter with her mother’s udders.

“He’s got to be able to Mate me. If I leave him cold, he won’t be able to impregnate me.” Yohana glanced at Serena, a wry smile on her face. “I know I’m no beauty queen. My features are too strong to be considered pretty or beautiful, and I’m not built like a model. Don’t match me up with a male who wants a gorgeous female to grace his bed.”

“Someone who’ll lie back and think of Whitewolf?” Serena teased.

“Something like that. In fact, if he wants a limited Mating, I’d accept it. My pack will be happy if I make the effort and produce a pup. Once those criteria are complete, any male I Mate can be free.”

“Yo, you are a good person and you deserve more than that.”

“Maybe, but not now. Later.”

“What about a True Mate?”

“Lord, no! I’m not looking for a True Mate. My attention will be on the pack and my pup. I’m not going to have time for some male who wants to bond and share with me,” she shivered.

“I used to think it would be awful, but I was wrong. You might be wrong too.”

“Unlikely. Right now I don’t have time to hold out for the ideal. I need Mr. Right-Now. Not Mr. Right.”

“I’ll see if I can find him for you. Any clan preferences?”

“Whitewolf or Goldwolf…Redwolf at the outside since a Redwolf pack lives near us too,” she frowned. “Our entire pack is fair. It would disturb them to have a dark haired heir. Still, I’ll take what I can get.”

“Noted. Do you want your Mate to live in Whitewolf or here in the city?”

“He can maintain an apartment here in Denver if needed, and just come home at the weekend after he’s planted a pup.”

Serena opened her mouth to say something more, she stopped and slowly nodded.

Yohana could tell her friend disapproved but was restraining herself because of the situation. She walked over to Serena, setting a hand on her wrist. “Serena, I know this is unpleasant, but I don’t have any options right now. My pack needs this from me.”

“They expect a horrible sacrifice and it isn’t fair.”

“Being a pack leader demands sacrifices, and since when has life been fair?” Yohana sat down in the chair.

Serena shook her head, finally lifting her blazing green eyes. “You are a special female and you should be appreciated, not pressured.”

Yo smiled sadly. “Is that what you think they’re doing?”

“Yes.”

“You are judging them by your view of your own father, Drew. But, Serena, all they really want is stability and safety. If having a pup will give them that, I can’t deny them.”

Serena shook her head.

“I need them to relax so I can… With Father so recently gone…”  Her throat closed and she covered her eyes, fighting tears. She shook her head looking up at her friend. “Find me a Mate. Please.”

When I went to England a couple of years ago, I learned some very interesting facts.  To the average person, they may seem small and insignificant, but to a writer and lover of everything English, I gobbled them up, eager to use them in my books.

Here are a few things I learned:

• Colonel Thomas De Veil started the Bow Street Magistrates Court in 1740 from his home, opposite the Royal Opera House.  It was Henry Fielding, the novelist who sat on the bench at the court, who actually came up with the Bow Street Runners idea, formed in 1754 by his brother John, which became the first paid police force.
• Sir Robert Peel formed the Metropolitan Police in 1829, who were called “Bobbies” in his honor, and Bow Street became the first police station in Britain.  This station is the only police station in London to have a white light instead of a blue light outside because when Queen Victoria would attend the Royal Opera House across the street, the blue light would remind her of the blue room in which Prince Albert died.
• The oldest printing and publishing house in the world is the Cambridge University Press; the oldest bookstore in the world is also located there, established in 1581.
• The first botanical gardens began in Oxford in 1621.
• The Savoy Theater was London’s first public building to be lit by electricity.
• Champagne was actually invented by an English doctor, Christopher Merrett of Gloucestershire, in 1662.  In 1695, a French monk, who also happened to be a winemaker in the Champagne region, Dom Perignon, adopted the process.
• George III purchased Buckingham Palace in 1762 from John Sheffield, the first Duke of Buckingham, who built it in 1703.

Have you any interesting English facts you’d like to share?

~Tiffany

www.tiffanygreen.net

Just over a year ago, as I watched my little town tremble in the wake of the worst wildfire Texas has ever recorded, I wrote that I prefer my drama in book form, not up close and in my own backyard. In the twelve months and a few days since the fire was officially declared ‘out’, we’ve moved on. We had to–there was no way to go back. For instance, within three months the first pile of debris and soot gave way to a rebuilt home and a family was moving in! Celebration time. Of the uncountable trees that fell in flames, more than two million are being replaced by seedlings. The Lost Pines will rise again. It will take time, probably more time than I have left on earth and I won’t be here to see it, but my grandchildren’s children will play in the woods, hear the mockingbirds, and see the land I love bloom again.

Last Sunday at my church we solemnly gave thanks for the recovery effort. One of the most touching things in that service was a small bowl set aside to collect house keys, car keys, pet collars, and tiny remembrances of the things we lost. A single key–an insignificant item in itself–is now the only tangible thing left of a home and the memories it housed. A pet collar–the symbol of a memory that haunts one dear friend who devoted her life to the rescue and rehabilitation of abandoned cats. She saved as many as she could but thirty-eight of her beloved fur-friends died in the fire. She moved away because the pain of rebuilding was too much.One pet collar spoke more eloquently than words of her loss.That little bowl held a sea of tears shed in twelve months and an ocean of memories.

The Sunday service sifted through the ashes of our remembrances. It brought us across the dark moments to the other side, the side where new homes are beginning to fill the gaps left in the wake of the fire. It reminded us that while we suffered a traumatic shock, we could have lost more than homes and possessions. We lost pets but we lost no children. Collections and photographs and heirlooms burned, but no one lost a parent or a grandparent. We survived more than one hundred days of temperatures above one hundred degrees and the worst drought we could imagine, but this year has been cooler and wetter. We are grateful for the relief that winter rains brought us. So we sifted the ashes, we gave thanks for what we salvaged and for the arms stretched across the country offering help, and we turned away from the destruction. This little town, part of Stephen F. Austin’s Little Colony, has been here since 1832. We survived the Texas Revolution, we endured the Civil War, and by golly, we made it through three attempts to burn the town to cinders. I think we can admit to a quiet sense of accomplishment. Texans are known to brag a bit, but I think we’ll just nod, give thanks, and go on about our business this time around. Like that mythological Phoenix bird, we’re rising up and starting over. And that’s all right, too.

Fleeta Cunningham

DON’T CALL ME DARLIN’

BLACK RAIN RISING

ELOPEMENT FOR ONE

HALF PAST MOURNING

CRY AGAINST THE WIND (forthcoming)