How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. The same promise is made for every blog site listed in the group–click the Linky Links link at the bottom of this post to see the list of participants and read/comment on any of them to see a donation go to that blogger’s charity. We’re all different! Thanks for your help and your participation!
What happens to military and law enforcement dogs who are retired? Some of the lucky ones are adopted, maybe by their previous partners. But due to the services they provided when on duty, they often need specialized care. Hurricane’s Heroes help with that. Hurricane’s Heroes “…provides ‘retired law enforcement and military dogs’ with subsidized veterinary care so they can live a long and healthy life. Often these incredible dogs are the unsung heroes behind the operations put in place to keep us safe.”
Dog handlers and the rest of the team depend on the skills of these remarkable animals. I’m looking forward to contributing to their chance to retire and be “just dogs.”
I can’t think right off of a book I’ve written that has a dog, but I have one that features a horse, so that’s what I’m featuring today.
Regan, Book 1 of the Sisters O’Ryan series
Blurb:
Joining in the westward migration, Davey and Regan O’Ryan Stone bought an Oregon farm sight unseen, hungering for adventure. Davey regretted the impulse far past the point of no return, and then he died. Now, unskilled and alone on her farm, Regan fears going home a failure—as a daughter, a wife and a farmer. With money quickly running out, she gladly accepts the offer of help from Seth Pratt, an acquaintance from the wagon train, and his friend Haywood Lawrence.
One-armed Seth seeks work at the remote farm at the end of an Oregon trail with low expectations. When he finds Regan, alone and widowed, he tamps down desire. She deserves better than a man handicapped in war, searching for his soul. She’s worthy of someone like his Shakespeare-spouting, best friend, Hay. Nothing could have prepared Seth for Regan’s simple solution—that both men stay. On the farm and in her bed.
“I might not have recognized her right off, but I sure haven’t ever forgotten her, Koda,” he whispered. “She’s alone out here, and she needs help.” The horse nodded his head and then whinnied. “You’re right,” Seth conceded. “It’s too much to think there’s a place for me here.”
Excerpt:
Koda stomped his front left hoof and shook his mane, before calmly munching on another mouthful of hay.
Seth clicked his tongue. “I know. There’s no need my arguing with the notion.”
“So you do carry on conversations with your horse, Mr. Pratt.”
Seth spun around, dropping the brush. “Mrs. Stone. I didn’t hear you.”
She smiled. “I only came down to make sure you found everything to your satisfaction.”
“The bunkroom is nice, and Koda is very happy with his stall.”
She stepped forward and stroked the Appaloosa’s nose. “He’s beautiful. What does Koda mean?”
“It’s Sioux for friend.”
“Well named.” Regan took a carrot from her pocket and fed it to the horse. She gestured toward the pinto in the neighboring stall. “That’s Twinkle. It’s Carolinian for she makes my eyes shine. At least according to my daddy. He says when he gave her to me for my fifteenth birthday, my eyes lit up. He named the horse on the spot.” She strolled over to feed Twinkle a carrot, too.
Hay came around the stall and leaned on the post. Seth didn’t care at all for the familiar way his eyes followed Regan Stone’s every movement. Then Seth leaned against Koda and gave in, watching her graceful walk. Her voice fell on his ears like a melody. Auburn tendrils escaped from a loose bun and framed her small, round face. Her father had named the horse aptly. Her eyes did twinkle, but not just when she looked at the pinto. Her height lent her a regal air. He longed to hold her against him. With her slender frame and unusual height, they would fit perfectly.
Don’t think about it. It will never happen. Daydreams aside, the differences in their social stature and culture leapt out at him. Still, arousal struck just watching her stroke her horse’s nose. He imagined her stroking him and gasped at the flame of desire that struck. When she swung back toward him he thought she must have heard.
“I almost forgot!” She smiled over Seth’s shoulder to the next stall. “Here’s a carrot for your horse, too, Hay.” Then she walked to the end stall where another horse stood quietly. “And one for you, Jethro.”
Seth didn’t think to wonder about the fourth horse in the barn. His conscious thought stopped when she called Hay Hay. Seth knew her first, or knew of her, more accurately, and that scoundrel had worked his charm on her to the point she already used his nickname. Good thing he was leaving. The knowledge that Hay would soon be far from Regan took the sting out of the fact that he, too, had to go now that there was no job.
“…I’ll see you then,” she said.
What had she said? His indignation over her use of Hay had waylaid his mind. “All right,” he replied, hoping he wouldn’t end up making a damn fool of himself.
With another smile, she strode from the barn leaving Seth in more emotional turmoil than he’d known in years.
“Now there’s a nice lady,” Hay said.
“She’s awright.” Seth vigorously set to work on Koda’s coat, not wanting to talk to Hay about anything right now, but especially not about Regan.
“All right? Bullshit, my taciturn friend. Too bad there’s no job after all. I might have considered staying on for awhile myself.”
“Right, too bad.”
Hay’s laugh came through the wooden slats. “I think she likes you.”
“Sure. Talk about bullshit.” Since coming home from the war, Seth made a habit of not meeting people’s eyes. Pity filled others’ expressions all too often and he didn’t like dealing with it. His heart had stuttered when he took a good look at the woman standing at the foot of the porch steps. Regan Stone had made an impression that one, brief time they’d met, but he’d kept his distance after that.
“She remembered you. She didn’t remember me. We were on that wagon train together, weren’t we?”
She had remembered him, hadn’t she? “Not hard to recollect a man with one arm. As for you, too bad you’re so damn forgettable.”
Hay laughed again. His laughter was one reason Seth enjoyed his company so much. Though he rarely engaged in the activity, he couldn’t help thinking his soul benefitted from the sound.
“You and I both know too many ladies along our path who disprove that theory,” Hay taunted.
“You have left quite an impression on the women of the west. Not all of it favorable, I might add.”
“Still, I wouldn’t mind rolling around the bed with our lovely widow. I wonder if she would consider—”
Before he could utter another word, Seth had Hay pinned to the stall. “You will not touch her in a frivolous manner. She’s no light skirt, you bastard.”
Hay’s face split into a wide grin. “I knew it. You like her, too.”
“She’s a widda, for God’s sake. Not even out of mournin’.”
“I know,” Hay said softly. “I was only shittin’ you.”
Seth huffed and let Hay go. “Yeah, well, go to hell.”
Hay slapped Seth’s back. “I think you have a touch of lovesickness, man. Maybe you should give up this idea of settling down and come with me to the coast. There’s bound to be something exciting for a couple of troublemakers like us that will take your mind off the beautiful widow.”
“I think I’ll stick it out around here for a while. Maybe look in town for a job.”
Hay shook his head. “She has you flustered, I can tell.”
Seth went back to finish Koda. “How?”
“You rarely talk to a person this much.” Hay chuckled and picked up his jacket.
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How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to the charity named. Thanks for your help and your participation!
You know the military is a near and dear thing to my heart. Here’s an excerpt from my book, 
However, my reason for wanting to celebrate the Salvation Army is that my mom often told me that when she was small, she probably never would have had a doll if not for the one she received at Christmas from her local Salvation Army. My grandmother worked two jobs—hard jobs, like scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees in the local school and factory work—and still found time to sew all of the clothes for twin girls she was raising alone. There was no money for things little girls longed for, like dolls. In that way, the Salvation Army fed my mom’s heart and soul, if not her tummy. I salute the work they do now, during the fight against Covid-19, and every day.
Your Desire. A mysterious shop appears in town for one reason: to bring the spice of passion and the thrill of love to one special person. Magic is in more than the item purchased—it’s in the heart of the buyer, often hidden, usually surprising. And after enchantment takes hold ad the fantasy is fulfilled? The store fades from sight and memory, only to reappear somewhere else. Maybe in your town…?
This month I’d like to talk about 
How Charity Sunday works: for every comment made on this blog post, I will donate money to a charity found in 
Volunteer: a person who freely offers to take part in an enterprise or undertake a task.
Volunteers from WIRES (Wildlife Information, Rescue and Education Service) and other similar groups have been facing these fires to rescue our unique wildlife. Sadly, many of these defenceless animals have perished but a lot are now receiving treatment and care, often in volunteers’ homes. Bear the Dog, a canine volunteer, is doing his best to 
There are events in our lives that we always remember where we were when we heard it happened. For me, some of those events were when John Kennedy was shot, when Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon, when Captain Jeremiah Denton arrived home from his nearly eight years of imprisonment in Vietnam, and, of course, when the towers and Pentagon were struck and the folks on United 93 willingly made the ultimate sacrifice.
