Tag: Jenna Stewart

Charity Sunday: Caldwell Institute for Public Safety

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!

I’d like to highlight a brand new charity this month, the Caldwell Institute for Public Safety

The institute was founded by Gianno Caldwell who has personal experience with crime and how it affects communities. His brother was shot and killed in Chicago two years ago. Chicago is a city I love and the crime rate in the city breaks my heart. Hopefully, Gianno’s new organization will make a difference in Chicago and every other city in the country where crime is a major issue.

“The Caldwell Institute for Public Safety is … dedicated to ensuring a justice system that prioritizes the safety and security of all law-abiding citizens by strategically supporting anti-crime candidates, advocating for legislation that makes communities safer, and providing comprehensive support services for victims of violent crime. We aim to create and foster solutions that effectively combat crime, support law enforcement, and uphold the principles of fairness and justice for every American.” Please comment and I will send a donation to the Institute. Thank you!

Blurb:

As family wage earner and pawn shop manager, Evelyn Collins thinks she’s kept a good watch on everything in her corner of the world. That is, until Harve Liddell, son of a local crime family, and Detective Joshua Rosen step up to show her just how much she’s missed.

Evelyn Collins inherits the family pawn shop and thinks things are starting to change for the better. Now, if she could keep her younger brother out of trouble, and handle two surprising suitors, things would be great.

Harve Liddell suffers from the reputation of his family’s involvement in organized crime, but Evvie Collins has always treated him as a friend. Far from friendship, he wants to set her blood afire with passion. When Harve’s ready to move, he finds Detective Joshua Rosen is, too.

For years Josh Rosen has wanted Evelyn in his bed, but stayed away because Jews were second class citizens in Minneapolis. He’s no longer willing to wait. The only thing blocking him is Harve Liddell, and the trouble Josh is sure he’s embroiled Evelyn’s brother in. He must find a way to trap Liddell without causing Evelyn pain before he can claim her.

Buy link:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Unlikely-Bedfellows-Publishing-Menage-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B009HA6D9Q/

Excerpt:
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in and have a drink. Our dinner reservations aren’t for half an hour yet.”

The valet opened Evelyn’s door and extended his hand to help her out. Then Joshua was at her side. He slid his arm around her waist and led her inside.

At a desk near the front door, a man in black tie looked up. “Rosen,” Joshua said. “We have reservations for eight, and we’ll be in the bar.”

“I’ll let you know when your table is ready.”

“Thank you.” Joshua guided her to the right, into a room lighted with candles and low illumination from wall sconces. The only point in the room with decent lighting was behind the bar, where two men busily mixed drinks for the many people seated at the oak bar and tables scattered across the floor. Joshua pointed out an empty booth against the far wall. “If you’ll wait there, I’ll order for us. What will you have?”

Evelyn rarely drank, but this evening’s adventure called for something celebratory. Her dad drank whiskey, but that was too strong for her. “A screwdriver, please.”

He nodded and turned to the bar.

The walls were a mosaic of the cities’ skylines, done in silver against black—sleek but comfortable somehow. A stage and dance floor were at the far end of the room. She didn’t realize Harve offered dancing, too, and live performances. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never come to his restaurant. It was far too pricey for her, but now that she saw the place, she realized that it said a great deal about him. Sleek and modern. Relaxed and comfortable. Efficient yet personalized. So many contrasts all rolled into one establishment, into one man.

She looked around. People were having a good time, laughing, talking. Drinks and cigarettes were in handy supply. She almost wished she smoked so she’d have something to do with her hands. Then Joshua came and slid in beside her. Taking one of her hands and thus ending her dilemma, he rested their hands on her thigh.

“The waitress will be here in a minute with our drinks.” He looked around, too. “What do you think of the place?”

“I like it. It’s relaxed and yet modern. I’m not sure how Harve pulled it off.”

“Yeah, old Harve is a real wunderkind.”

The thick sarcasm threw her for a minute, and then she laughed. “You two are like oil and water. Is there anything you agree on?”

He faced her. His black eyes glittered like polished onyx. She blushed under the intensity of his stare, but she couldn’t turn away. His hand tightened over hers, and he rubbed the backs of his knuckles on her dress, at her thigh.

“I’m pretty sure there’s one thing.”

“Your drinks, sir.” The waitress bent low, showing off a generous cleavage. To Evelyn’s surprise, Joshua seemed not to notice. He tipped the woman, handed Evelyn her drink, and focused on her once again.

“To many more evenings,” he said.

“I’ll go along with that,” she replied. The vodka burned on the way down, but the orange juice sweetened the sip. Her second taste was smoother, and the third, downright refreshing.

“What happened to that pin you had in the case yesterday?” Joshua asked.

The alcohol spun through her system, made her settle into the soft leather banquette seat and feel warm all over. “What pin?”

“The one in the front display case. The circular one with the stones set into it. It wasn’t there when I stopped by earlier today, and I just wondered if the owner came back for it.”

Evelyn took another sip and then examined her glass. It was nearly empty. How had that happened? She blinked and focused on Joshua. “Circular stones pinned in my display case?”

Joshua smiled and removed her glass. “You don’t drink very often, do you?”

She plopped her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm. “Nope. Maybe if I had a friend to drink with.”

“I’ll be your friend, Evelyn,” Joshua said quietly.

She swiveled her chin in her palm and squinted at him. “I like that, Joshmea.”

He brushed a tendril of hair from the corner of her mouth to behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, Evelyn.”

She started to giggle. Good God! When had she ever giggled? No one with brass balls giggles. And she giggled again.“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Oh, Joshea, I’m just avmerage. You are handsome, though. You and Harve both, just damned handsome.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops! I said damn.”

Joshua started laughing. “Wow. You’re in trouble. Shall I go and find some soap?” He looked over her shoulder and then nodded at someone. “Our table’s ready. Are you able to walk, Evelyn?”

She sat up straight and waved her hand. “Oh sure. I learned how to walk a long time ago.” He laughed again. What had she said that was so funny?

She scooted to the edge of the banquette, but somehow her legs didn’t obey the command to stand. Joshua held out his hand, the sweetheart, and she grabbed hold. Rising to her feet, she wobbled in her heels for a second or two and then steadied herself. How far was it to their table? She’d stay on her feet if it killed her. With great confidence, she stepped off.

And fell flat on her ass.

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Charity Sunday: Big Dog Ranch Rescue

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!

This month, I’d like to highlight Big Dog Ranch Rescue, Their mission: “Big Dog Ranch Rescue was founded in 2008; since then, we have saved the lives of more than 50,000 dogs. Our mission is to save 5,000 dogs every year, to heal and place them with loving families and to educate people about the proper care for dogs and the importance of spaying and neutering.” The work now includes rescuing dogs from the US-Mexico border, where dogs have been abandoned by migrants entering the country. Migrants cross the border and get on buses to go throughout the U.S., leaving their dogs to fend for themselves. BDRR has stepped in, at the behest of the National Guard, to help save the animals and help them find homes with loving families. Please help me by leaving a comment, and I will donate to this worthy group. Note: BDRR is rated four stars on Charity Navigator.

In Regan (Book 1 of the historical, ménage romance series The Sisters O’Ryan by Jenna Stewart), Seth doesn’t have a dog, but he does have a horse for a constant companion.

Blurb:
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 handicapped man 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.

Buy link:
Amazon US

Excerpt:
“Do you know this lady, Seth?” The second man split his gaze between his companion and Regan.

Suddenly heat flamed on Regan’s cheeks. Why should he have noticed her, though he certainly stood clear in her mind. Indeed, Seth Pratt had made quite an impression on all the single ladies in their wagon train. Once, despite her married status at the time they shared the trek west, he made an embarrassing appearance in her dream, too, much to her shame. Her imagined image of his naked body joined to hers had pleased her so much, she banished him from her thoughts afterwards.

She glanced at his companion, hating that he should witness her complete ignominy.

“I apologize for not recognizing you, Mrs. Stone,” Seth said. His gaze raked the yard again. “Should I speak to your husband about the job?”

“Mrs. Stone?” the other man said. Seth shot him a silencing look.

“My husband passed away just west of Cheyenne.” Seth had left the train in western Nebraska, headed, or so she heard through gossip, for the Dakota Black Hill country. At the time, that had been a relief. She thought never to see him again, never to be tempted to dream of him again.

“My condolences,” he said softly. She acknowledged his comment with a nod. “Was the man in Cold Springs correct, then? Are you really lookin’ for help?” He asked the question, but his expression started to close down as though knowing before she answered that there would be nothing for him here.

“There is a problem, Mr. Pratt.”

“My arm. I understand.” He fit his hat back on his head and tipped it at her before tapping the flanks of his horse with his heels and giving the reins a tug.

The second man said, “Hold on, there,” at the same time she cried out, “No!”

He stopped and waited.

“No, Mr. Pratt,” she said. “The problem is not your arm. I assume you would not apply for the position of farmhand if you felt you were not equal to the task.” His eyes lit with interest, and she continued. “The problem is the distance from town, and I’m alone here. I fear it’s too far to travel back and forth each day. Indeed, had I known my property was this far removed from any town, I’m sure I would have faltered in my determination to continue west.”

Seth’s brows wrinkled. “Are you safe out here alone?”

She shrugged. “I feel perfectly so.”

He didn’t seem to like her answer much, but he didn’t argue. “I see.” He sat quietly. “Ma’am, I’ll be honest with you. I need a job. I didn’t have much stake when I lit out for these parts, and I have next to nothin’ now. Folks aren’t anxious to hire a one-armed man, as you might guess. If you give me a chance, I won’t trouble you for nothin’, at least until the snow flies, and then I would need only a roof. I can bed down in the barn.”

“There are accommodations. But Mr. Barker should have explained that I am interested in hiring a man and wife, so that proprieties would be maintained.”

“Why the hell did…Begging your pardon, Mrs. Stone,” the second man said, “but I wonder why the man in town sent us out here, then.”

“Us?” Regan looked more closely at the man, so different in dress from Seth. So different in every way. His clothing spoke of money, though he wore a simple white shirt and vest under the jacket. Obvious hand tooling on his horse’s saddle and the burled-wood rifle butt protruding from a pouch on the saddle screamed taste and the money to afford it.

He smiled once more, showing good teeth and deep dimples. “Forgive me. I’m Haywood Lawrence, late of Charlotte, North Carolina, traveling the West with this disreputable reprobate. That is, until he decided he wanted to become a farmer instead of a seeker of fortunes.”

She smiled. “We have something in common, Mr. Lawrence. I hail from Asheville.”

Smoothly he swung his leg over the horse and strode to her. “‘Such stuff as dreams are made on.’” He took her hand and kissed it.

Regan blinked in surprise but couldn’t keep a smile from her face. “Asheville is the stuff dreams are made on, Mr. Lawrence?”

“Not the city, Mrs. Stone, its lovely citizens.”

“I have it,” Seth said in a quiet tone.

Startled because she had forgotten momentarily that Seth was there, she yanked back her hand and looked up.

“The man in town must have heard me tell Koda that I bought a penny candy for Francis. He musta thought I meant a woman.”

“Who is Koda?” asked Regan. Holy Mother! As surprised as she was to see Seth again, Haywood Lawrence took her breath away. Adding a third man to the mix would surely be too much.

Haywood sighed. “It’s his horse, I’m afraid. Our friend Seth talks to the horse more than he does to people.”

“He don’t quote Shakespeare day and night,” Seth grumbled.

“Well then, who is Francis?”

“That would be me,” Haywood said, with a glare at Seth. “Though no one calls me that who doesn’t want a fight.” Seth raised his brow and shrugged. Haywood turned back to Regan. “I was christened Francis Haywood Lawrence, but I much prefer Haywood to my first name. Or rather, Hay, which I hope you will call me.”

“Oh, I…uh.”

Seth stared at Hay. “I thought you were catchin’ a boat downriver to the coast. Somethin’ about lumber?”

Hay’s gaze didn’t waver from Regan. “Perhaps not. Never fear, my friend,” he tossed over his shoulder to Seth. “‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.’”

Seth said something impossible for Regan to decipher.

She forced her gaze from Hay. “I’m sorry the position won’t work out, Mr. Pratt,” she told Seth. “However, it’s too late for you to go back to town tonight. Why don’t you stay and ride back tomorrow?”

“It wouldn’t be right. I was so wrapped up in my own troubles that I didn’t stop to think.” For the first time, worry clouded Seth’s startling blue eyes. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that might cause you or your reputation harm, Mrs. Stone.”

“Who will know if you camped out or slept in comfort, Mr. Pratt?” Regan smiled. “My parents raised me to be a proper young lady. But when I lay in my safe, snug bed in my father’s home, I imagined how it would feel to be wild and carefree. To do something scandalous. You would be fulfilling a childhood dream if you stayed for the night.” Holy mother of God! Had she really said that? How would he take her words?

Author Dee S. Knight:

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website (www.nomadauthors.com). Fortunately, Dee’s high school sweetheart is the love of her life and husband to all three ladies! On the last Sunday of the month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Sign up for her newsletter for exclusive access to free novellas, poetry, and stuff.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749
Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

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Like westerns and cowboys? Check out N.N. Light’s latest event!

Starting April 19 and going through April 28, N.N. Light is hosting the Western Fiction/Romance Bookish Event. Whoa, ma’am! Lots of great authors and books will be featured, all with the western theme and all about romance.

How much better can it be, you ask?

Well, I’ll tell you. By participating, you have the chance to win a $40 Amazon gift card! And, if you send Mrs. N. proof that you purchased one of the books featured, you will be given five more entries in the Rafflecopter drawing. This event is international. The winner will be drawn on April 29.

All of the details for the Western Fiction/Romance Bookish Event can be found on the event site.

Now, for my contribution, I submitted my historical ménage romance, Regan. Regan will be featured on Sunday, April 24.

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 hope you enjoy Regan and the other books in the SIsters O’Ryan series!

Buy links

Amazon Kindle https://www.amazon.com/Regan-Sisters-Publishing-Menage-Everlasting-ebook/dp/B008MOOYC6/

B&N Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/regan-jenna-stewart/

About Jenna

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex.

After a while, Dee split her personality into thirds. She writes as Anne Krist for sweeter romances, and Jenna Stewart for ménage and shifter stories. All three of her personas are found on the Nomad Authors website. And all three offer some of the best romance you can find! Also, once a month, look for Dee’s Charity Sunday blog posts, where your comment can support a selected charity. Join her newsletter, Aussie to Yank (with Jan Selbourne) for exclusive access to stories, poems, and more.

Website: https://www.nomadauthors.com/jennastewart/index.html

Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog

Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN

Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6

LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

Sweet ‘n Sassy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K

Charity Sunday: Help the children of the Lakota Sioux

Charity Sunday: Dee S. KnightHow 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!

St. Joseph's Indian School

This month, I’d like you to know about St. Joseph’s Indian School. I probably never would have heard about St. Joseph’s except for my mother and aunt. They both contribute to the school as part of their tithing, and for years I’ve heard about what a good job the school does to help children of the Lakota Sioux nation. Maybe Mom and my aunt feel a kin to the Sioux because they live in Sioux City, or because they have family in Yankton, South Dakota, where we once attended a Sioux pow-wow, or maybe because Mom has genealogical records showing she has an ancestor who was Sioux. Whatever the reason, Indian children in the U.S. deserve our help. If you have doubts, just read any article about life on the reservations and you’ll see.

St. Joseph’s has taken on no small mission:
“St. Joseph’s is a Native American school dedicated to improving the quality of life for Lakota (Sioux) children and families. As an apostolate of the Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart, St. Joseph’s mission is to educate Native American children and their families for life — mind, body, heart and spirit. This mission drives our organization to educate and provide housing for over 200 Lakota (Sioux) children each year.

Child poverty and abuse are serious issues on Indian reservations. By supporting St. Joseph’s Indian School, you are helping Native American children in need reestablish pride in their culture by learning the Lakota language, studying Native American culture and healing the broken family circle from which they come.

Our organization provides an opportunity for Lakota (Sioux) children to escape extreme poverty and abuse when they attend St. Joseph’s Indian School.”

I hope you will comment and give your support to my support of this special Charity Sunday!

Maire, the SIsters O'Ryan by Jenna StewartMy ménage historical book, Maire, tells how a Hopi Indian and his best friend save Maire O’Ryan from a long and painful death on the desert—and how she steals their hearts.

Blurb:
Maire O’Ryan, an independent Carolinian bent on living life as she sees fit, is hurt on the Arizona desert, alone and miles from her colleagues. Her only comfort is the presence of an circling eagle above and the sense of a warm fur wrapped around her at night. After two days, delirium keeps her from knowing whether her rescuers are real or dreams. Either way, they’re delicious.

John Eagle and his best friend, Gus Brannigan were led to the white woman on the rock by John’s totem, the eagle, but he doesn’t know why. He understands only that he’s now responsible for the green-eyed beauty. When a crisis erupts, John is surprised by Maire’s determination to come with him and Gus as they cross the desert in search of a murderer. Long before their search ends, the men commit their hearts and bodies to the woman. But does she reciprocate?

Excerpt:
John Eagle had known when he followed his spirit that he would find something unexpected and special at the end of the flight. That’s the way it always happened when he flew with his totem. But he had never imagined he would find a woman, a beautiful white woman about to die from thirst and snakebite.

Augustus Brannigan, Istaka, Coyote Man, as John thought of him, was John’s best friend. He knelt beside the woman and felt her wrist. “John, we have to get her some help.”

John stilled his mind so he could feel what was right. Looking up, he caught sight of his kindred spirit, the golden eagle, soaring high in the sky.

Gus sat back on his heels and pushed his hat back with his thumb. “I wonder how long she’s been out here.”

“Days.”

Gus looked up, brows raised. “How do you know?”

John shrugged. He couldn’t explain it to a non-Indian. Even a man as close to him as a brother, like Gus, wouldn’t understand that an eagle had appeared in his dream last night and indicated that he should come to this spot on the mesa. Just now he sensed that the eagle had watched the woman for two days. Why she was so important, he didn’t know. But coming here and rescuing her meant he assumed responsibility for her. On some basic level, they belonged to each other because of his act. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted that. Life already held enough complications.

“We’ll take her to Bacavi,” he said.

Gus expressed surprise. “You don’t think we should take her to that group of researchers? That’s probably where she’s from.”

John looked up at the sky again. The eagle swooped toward the ground and then reversed course to fly up and toward the north, toward Bacavi.

“No.”

It was time for Gus to shrug. “We can send word to them. And your village is a mite closer.”

John strode to where they’d left their horses and brought his back to where the woman lay, still unconscious. He jumped astride the saddleless horse. “Hand her up, will you, Gus?”

His friend slid one of his arms under her shoulders and the other under her knees and scooped her off the rock surface. Turning, he lifted her to John, who fit her in front of him.

“She’s a tiny thing, and light as a snowflake,” Gus said. “She wouldn’t have lasted out here much longer.”

John agreed. The woman’s head fell onto his chest, and his arms surrounded a body so slight he hardly noticed she sat there. He nudged his horse into a walk. Augustus went to his animal and climbed into the saddle. Without another word, the two slowly rode off the rock and away from the slot canyon where they’d found the nearly dead white woman.

Once on the desert floor, they turned north and broke into a trot and then a gallop. Bacavi lay about two miles away on the third mesa of Hopi land. They had given the woman a little water and hopefully released the venom from the snakebite. She should be fine until the shaman could look at her. Then his sister and mother would care for her until he could figure out why his spirit guide had led him to her.

“Don’t worry, little one. You’re safe now.” She stirred only a bit, snuggling against his chest. Was it her breathing he felt on his chest or the rapid beat of his heart, having her near? Either one thrilled him. Either one scared the shit out of him.

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Charity Sunday: Hurricane’s Heroes

Charity Sunday: Dee S. KnightHow 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

Regan by Jenna StewartBlurb:
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.”

Book links:
Amazon
B&N

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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N.N. Light’s Backlist Bonanza: Jenna Stewart

Some of you might not know, but I write under three pen name: Dee S. Knight (mostly), Anne Krist, and Jenna Stewart. Jenna writes steamy menage romance–some historical and some shifters. Explore her books on https://nomadauthors.com

For the Backlist Bonanza, I’m offering the first in a series of menage historical books, Regan. I hope you enjoy the backlist bonanza! There are lots of fine authors gathered under this umbrella, and one lucky winner will win a copy of each of our books! I will featured on August 28!

N.N. Light's Backlist Bonanza

Looking to fill your e-readers? I’ve teamed up with over 30 authors to give you 66 must-read backlist reads. Check it out as well as the giveaway: https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com/bookpromos/categories/backlist-bonanza

Regan:
Regan by Jenna StewartJoining 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.

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