VALENTINE'S DAY MEMORIES by Jill McDonald (aka The English Rose)

As today is Valentine’s Day, I would like to share my story with you. It is particularly appropriate, as I was actually married on Valentine’s Day!

My late husband, Chris and I, met in the middle of a field one September. He was in the Army Recruitment team, who were having a large recruitment drive with a variety of displays and side shows to show people what the modern Army does. These included a display by the Motorcycle Display team (I found out later that Chris had been one of the star riders in that team for three years and had invented some of the movements that they were using to wow the crowds.)

This was taken on the day we met. Not brilliant I'm afraid, but you get the idea.

I went along to the Show with my sister and Dad. I found myself attracted to a quiet, darkly brooding, young man in full uniform and kept wandering back to look at him, until he plucked up the courage to stop me and ask me out that night.

He had to go back on tour the following day, but we spoke often on the phone and wrote long letters, he came to stay with us whenever he could get some time off, it was a real long-distance romance, then in November the same year, he proposed to me as we were standing in a queue for fish and chips! Not a very Romantic chap was he? He was never deeply Romantic, but always kind and thoughtful.

We set a date, then found out he would be on tour in Northern Ireland that month, so we had to bring it forward, among whispers of us ‘having to get married’. The only other available date he was free was Valentine’s Day. That meant it was only six months after first meeting that we were wed. (And no, I wasn’t pregnant, our only daughter came along seven years later.)  

OUR WEDDING DAY.

Even then, he wasn’t the most Romantic of men, then one Valentine’s Day he came home with a big bunch of roses, I was delighted and thanked him appropriately, but did wonder why they weren’t wrapped in florist’s paper? I found out a few days later that he’d ‘rescued’ them from a Sergeant’s garden! Oh well, he tried!

Chris remained in the Army for two years after we wed, with another tour of Ireland and a three month tour of Canada in that time. While he was in Ireland and we were living in married quarters, we Army wives lived on our nerves until the men came home from fighting.

One evening there was a knock on the door. Imagine my horror to see two MP’s standing there, those guys only ever meant bad news. Then I realized they were asking for someone else who lived a few doors away. The mixture of emotions I felt as they left knocked me sideways. I was relieved of course, but sad to know that someone so close was going to hear that terrible news. Chris and ‘the boys’ came home safely three weeks later, in time for another Valentine’s Day, with him swearing he would leave the Army as soon as his time was up. Which he did.

After having had ten years of travelling, he found it difficult to settle to any job for a while and we moved around a fair bit, eventually settling in ‘The Garden of England’, Kent, where Chris got a job as an Agricultural Mechanic on a large arable farm. We lived an idyllic life for almost ten years, in a little cottage with an old Rayburn stove, a huge open fire, and almost an acre of land, which I soon filled to overflowing with livestock. We grew our own produce and there was plenty of wild food available for free, we’d never had it so good.

Unfortunately, Chris had a bad accident on the farm, and was told he would never work again and would end up in a wheelchair, it led to him losing his job and the house, which was ‘tied’ to the job. We had to get out as the Boss needed it for another worker. He told us the week before Christmas and gave us three months to get out. That was a wonderful Christmas! (Not). I had to try to find homes for our animals and poultry, (at that time I also had a pair of beautiful Shetland ponies. It broke my heart to have to part with them, and I still miss them.) I don’t think we celebrated Valentine’s Day that year.

We ended up moving to Lancashire to be close to my family for support. It was a small house with a tiny garden, in a bad area. Chris went through a long period of depression. Then we moved to this house and things began to improve.

Chris had never known who his real father was, as his mother wouldn’t tell him and passed away without telling him. He said right from the start of our marriage that he wished he could find his father, but with no names to go on, it was an impossible desire. For his sixtieth birthday, I bought him a DNA test. We posted the results on the Ancestry website and waited, without much hope. After about six months or so, we received a mail from a man in USA who said their results had some similarities, and asking questions about Chris’s father, which of course, we were unable to answer, it looked like another dead end.

Then, Chris’s sister remembered she’d found some photos of men in uniform among their mother’s possessions and saved them. We emailed them to America on the off chance that Stuart might know the men. The next day his first email simply said “We have a match!” It turned out that one of the men was one of Stuart’s uncles! So Chris and Stuart were actually cousins. What are the chances of that happening? There were many tears that day, when I was able to tell Chris we had found his father’s family at long last! Had his sister destroyed those photos, he would never have fulfilled his dream.

This is the photo my sis-in-law saved of Chris's real dad. 

It was exciting and interesting to learn about the family in America. Stuart lives in California, but the family come originally from Wisconsin. The best thing is that their Great-great Grandfather was chief of the Sokaogan Chippewa tribe in Wisconsin. All my life I had been on the side of the ‘Indians’, now I found out I was married to one!

Stuart and his partner came to visit for a couple of days the following year as part of a tour of Europe. For Chris to be able to shake the hand of a blood relative at last, was a momentous moment. And there were more tears! Chris and I were given Native American names by Stuart as an elder of the tribe. Chris is ‘Waa-bani-noo-din’ or ‘The Wind from the East’, and mine is ‘Nii-gaan-o-se-kwe’ or ‘Woman who Leads’. I am so delighted by my name that I use it for my website. I am still in regular touch with Stuart.

Me and Chris (in grey) with his cousin Stuart from USA

Unfortunately, my own Indian chief had a stroke about four years ago, and his condition slowly deteriorated until he passed away in March 2013.

Valentine’s Day is bitter sweet to me, on the one hand, it was our Wedding Day and we always tried to celebrate it in some way, including having a conservatory built on the house for our Ruby wedding. On the other hand, he wasn’t really able to understand the final one (our 44^th) and now I have no-one to celebrate it with, but I do have many, many happy memories.

I hope that this Valentine’s Day, you all take some time to remember just how much your partner really means to you, and I wish you all a wonderful and wonderfully Romantic day.

The Fear of Fear Itself

By Kathleen Rice Adams

It’s Friday the 13th. You may as well walk under ladders, cross paths with black cats, break mirrors, and ignore chain emails with reckless abandon, because today’s an unlucky day anyway.

Nowadays, much of the western world looks at Friday the 13th as a day of bad luck. That hasn’t always been the case. In fact, there is no record of the superstition before the latter half of the 19th Century, and the notion didn’t become widespread until the 20th Century. It still isn’t universal: In Hispanic and Greek cultures, Tuesday the 13th is the day for bad luck. In Italy, it’s Friday the 17th.

Superstitions arise from fear—of an object, a place, a person, an idea… You name it, and there’s probably a related superstition born of someone’s bad experience, coupled with his or her refusal to shut up about it. When a fear becomes so extreme that a person can’t cope, the fear becomes a phobia.

Most people have heard of triskaidekaphobia, or fear of the number 13. Whether they can spell the word is another matter.

Friday the 13th is such a fearsome date, there are two words meaning “fear of Friday the 13th”: friggatriskaidekaphobia and paraskavedekatriaphobia. One is based on a Norse root word; the other on Greek. If you can pronounce either, you’re braver than I.

Sadly, very few phobias have short, easy-to-say names. That, in itself, can provoke a phobia: hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia, or the fear of long words. Seems to me there ought to be a name for fear of the word that means fear of long words.

Is there a word for the fear of fear? Yep: phobophobia. Fortunately, that term is short and fairly simple. Subjecting a phobophobe to hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia would be crueler than necessary. (I really do think there should be a word for the fear of that word—or at least the fear of typing that word.)

There are a ton of phobias (no wonder folks become phobophobic!), but in the interest of preventing pinaciphobia—the fear of lists—I’ll name only a few.

Pteronophobia is the fear of being tickled by feathers. Evidently no one is afraid of being tickled by anything else, because there is no term for a general fear of tickling.

Chromophobia is the fear of bright colors. I’m surprised anyone escaped the psychedelic ’60s without developing this one.

Eisoptrophobia, or the fear of your own reflection, must be especially vexing for narcissists.

Nomophobia is surprisingly common—or maybe not so surprisingly. It’s the fear of losing your cell phone.

Didaskaleinophobia is the fear of going to school. Don’t tell your children.

Both caligynophobia and androphobia are rare in romance novels, thankfully. The former is fear of beautiful women; the latter, fear of men.

Likewise, few characters in romance novels—particularly heroines—suffer erythrophobia, or the fear of blushing.

Another rarity in romance novels is peladophobia, or fear of bald people. It’s difficult to be afraid of something that doesn’t exist.

The flipside of that coin is being afraid of that which does exist. That’s panphobia, or fear of everything.

Pteridophobia is the fear of ferns. Anthophobia is fear of flowers and stems. People who are afraid of all plants are botanophobic. If any of those people take over Congress, the environment’s goose is cooked.

Anatidaephobia is the fear that somewhere in the world, a duck is watching you. No, I did not make that up.

Someone did make up this one, though: luposlipaphobia, or the fear of being pursued by timber wolves around a kitchen table while wearing socks on a newly waxed floor. We can thank Gary Larson, creator of The Far Side, for that one.

What are you afraid of? Tell us in the comments. I’ll bet there’s a word for it.

I wonder if there’s a word meaning fear there’s no term for your phobia...

#NewRelease -- HEARTS IN WINTER By Kirsten Lynn — Giveaway!

Kirsten Lynn is giving away a free ecopy of her new novel, HEARTS IN WINTER. Be sure and leave a comment to be entered in the drawing.

BLURB

Christmas Eve, 1894...

The night Garrett McPherson finds his wife violated and murdered is the night he turns his back on his Wyoming ranch to become the most feared bounty hunter on either side of the Mississippi.  But what keeps Garrett on the hunt for Elsie's murderers and unable to come home is his sister-in-law, Jenny Westin. He's never stopped loving her, and if it weren't for his young son, Ethan, he might never return to the ranch again to keep from facing her and his feelings.

Jenny has never understood why Garrett threw her over for her sister, beautiful Elsie.  When Jenny returns to Wyoming, a tense reunion at the train station for the two former lovers becomes a nightmare when they discover Elsie's battered body upon their return to the ranch. Garrett vows to find Elsie's murderers and avenge her death, and Jenny has no choice but to stay and care for Garrett’s son.  For three years, she manages to live at the ranch raising Ethan, keeping her secrets and heartbreak hidden.

Another Christmas will bring Garrett back from his search for Elsie's murderers to the Double M Ranch. Will this be the season for Jenny and Garrett to sort through the hurt and betrayal and face the truth of their love? The secrets of the past are the only key to unlock their HEARTS IN WINTER...

EXCERPT

    A shadow blocked his way. “I wouldn’t go up there, Garrett, unless you’re ready to face the music.”
    Garrett scowled at Elliot, although he doubted the man could see it through the dark blanket of midnight. “And just what music is it I need to face?”
    “None you want to this time of night, boyo. Leave the lass to her grief.”
    “Her grief?” Garrett blustered, not caring if he woke the whole ranch. “What the hell does she have to grieve?”
    He couldn’t see Elliot’s features, but irritation was clear as sunshine in the older man’s voice. “More than you could ever know, lad. Now, I’m tellin’ ya, go back to your house and leave the lass. You’ll not want to be hearin’ what she has to say without sleep.”
    Garrett rested his eyes on Jenny kneeling by something he couldn’t make out at this distance. What the hell was on the hill? He hadn’t noticed anything when he rode in, but he’d been a week without sleep. If it had been anyone else blocking his path to her, Garrett would have introduced the man’s backside to the cold snow, but he trusted only one man more than Elliot O’Leary. It was one of the reasons he’d offered the foreman’s job to O’Leary when his father died. Simon Westin had pitched a fit when his trusted hand took Garrett up on his offer.
    Garrett swallowed past a lump in his throat. “You’ll watch over her?”
    “You can count on it, lad.”
    A strong hand squeezed Garrett’s shoulder, then the shadow disappeared. The urge to bolt up the hill forced Garrett’s hands into fists, but he turned on his heels and marched back to the house.

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Life (and writing) lessons from "What About Bob?" by Kaye Spencer

One of my favorite movies is Bill Murray's What About Bob? While presented in a tongue-in-cheek manner as only Bill Murray can do, beneath the goofiness, this movie has important messages about pushing past our fears and insecurities in order to embrace what life has to offer. For writers, these messages are particularly relevant.

Here are five life (writing) messages we can take away from this movie. My thoughts are first, with the corresponding movie quote in bold italics.

1. We should all have a mantra that keeps us grounded.
    (Writers must engage in positive self-talk to maintain the "want to write" not the "have to write".)

    I feel good. I feel great. I feel wonderful.

2. Generally speaking, people are people are people.

    (Writers, aspiring to multi-published, struggle with the same issues: creative dry spells, costs of marketing, time spent on promotion, surviving edits, etc.)

    I have problems the same as you.

3. In the business of day-to-day living, we tend to dwell on negatives rather than celebrate positives.
    (Writing is more than putting pencil to paper or fingers to keyboard. Writing is overwhelmingly mental: thinking, planning, ruminating ideas, staring out the window. Give your “I must reach my daily word count a break, or it will break your creative spirit over time.)

    Take a vacation from your problems.

4. When our problems seem insurmountable, we should step back and just breathe to regain perspective.
    (Writing/Publishing/Marketing/Promoting, to paraphrase Marty Robbins, can seem like “a mountain we may never climb”. Set reasonable, manageable, doable goals.)

    So what you’re telling me is that I’m all tied up inside...baby steps untie your knots.

5. We tend to complicate the issues in our lives by over-thinking, when the core of the problem is really quite simple and straight-forward.
    (Write. Publish. Repeat.)

    There are two types of people in this world: Those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't.

So, the next time the Vigilante Riders of Self-Doubt show up in the middle of the night at your metaphorical writing door of insecurity, just remember…

Life and writing are really about just taking one positive Baby Step at a time.

Until next time,

Kaye

www.kayespencer.com
Twitter - @kayespencer

San Juan Mountains, Colorado

By Kristy McCaffrey

The San Juan Mountains are located in southwestern Colorado and are part of the Rocky Mountains. With high quantities of minerals present, gold and silver mining camps popped up in the area during the 19th century. Those camps are now major towns such as Telluride, Ouray, Silverton, Lake City, and Creede.

On the east side of the mountains the Rio Grande flows. On the western slope, tributaries of the San Miguel, Dolores and Gunnison rivers feed into the Colorado River.

San Juan Mountains near Ouray and Telluride. 

Today, tourism is a large part of the local economy with wilderness trekking, mountain climbing, and camping popular. Because the San Juans are extremely steep and receive a lot of snow, skiing and snowboarding are also a big draw. Telluride is home to a major ski resort, and there is also skiing at Purgatory, now known as Durango Mountain Resort. In addition, there is skiing on Wolf Creek Pass at the Wolf Creek Ski Area, and at the Silverton Mountain Ski Area.

Telluride Airport

The San Juan Mountains are home to the highest airport in the U.S. The Telluride Airport sits at an elevation of 9,070 feet, but as of January 1, 2015 they discontinued all commercial flights. Speaking with locals this past December while in Telluride, I learned that frequently those flights were diverted or cancelled due to weather. Most people fly into Montrose, two hours north.

The setting of my new short story ‘A Westward Adventure’ is the San Juan Mountains, although the town of Laurel is fictional. Writer Amelia Mercer, traveling from New York City, arrives in Laurel to visit her legendary Aunt Teddy, an unmarried woman living life on her own terms. When Amelia’s luggage is stolen from the stagecoach, bounty hunter Ned Waymire comes to her aid. An elegant lady from back East is a rarity in these parts, and he’s suddenly of a mind to court her. Add a dog named Riggs and an unfinished bounty that’s haunted Ned for years, and Amelia has more than her share of ideas for her new romantic novel A Westward Adventure.

I hope you’ll check it out. The anthology features eight historical western romances. Be swept away by a cowboy and a kiss this Valentine’s Day!

Kindle | Nook | Trade Paperback

Excerpt from A Westward Adventure

The front door opened and shut, and in the next instant Ned Waymire filled the parlor entryway. As soon as Amelia locked eyes with him, he froze.

“Ned, I’d like you to meet my niece, Amelia Mercer.” Teddy waved him into the room. “Amelia, this is Ned Waymire. He boards here. There’s also another gentleman, but he’s been away recently.”

Mister Waymire removed his hat, revealing dark hair, and cleared his throat. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss.” He stepped forward to take her hand.

The touch was warm and his sun-darkened fingers overwhelmed her pale ones. As she smiled and nodded, she tried to ignore the tingling sensation that crept up her arm. Up close, he exuded even more strength than was apparent in the marshal’s office.

A man who spent his days outdoors.

A man who called the earth his home.

Vivid blue eyes stood out on a sun- and whisker-darkened face.

He was the perfect western hero.

“I just saw you,” she said, glad her voice sounded calm considering how her insides quivered.

“That’s right.”

He stepped back from her.

“You’re not married, are you, Amelia?” Teddy asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Why, neither is Ned.”

Heat suffused Amelia’s cheeks. “I don’t believe in marriage, much like you Aunt Teddy.” The words rushed out of Amelia. “Women don’t need men to make their way in the world. Why, look at you? You’ve done quite well on your own.”

“I’ve never been placed on a pillar,” Teddy said. “What do you think of that, Ned? I’m a woman of example.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Ned replied.

“Did you get Billings?” Teddy asked.

“Yep. You were right. He was in Old Man Hill’s abandoned mine.”

“I knew it.” Teddy chuckled under her breath.

“Are you a bounty hunter, too?” Amelia asked.

Teddy cackled. “No, but I could be. Don’t you think, Ned?”

“You’d outgun us all, Teddy.”

Amelia sensed an affection between the two, and it warmed her heart, although this entire reunion with her aunt was far different than anything she imagined. She knew she had the first chapter of her new novel.

“I’ll just be turning in now, ladies,” Ned said.

Amelia, her cheeks still warm from being in the same room with him, met his eyes briefly then looked away in embarrassment.

What if he thinks I like him?

She imagined the type of woman he fancied was far from the likes of her. Why, he probably thought her a silly city girl. And he’d be right. But her mama had long taught her to be an independent thinker, to believe that a woman’s mind was equal to a man’s. Most of Amelia’s writings had been social commentaries, addressing important issues such as the educational welfare of children, the plight of the homeless and less fortunate, and the lack of voice the average woman had within marriage. But in her heart, she longed to pen an adventurous tale of a woman who not only sees the world, but tames a man in the process, who finds love with an equal, inciting passion in her partner.

She hadn’t told her mother she planned to write such a novel—she’d likely think it beneath Amelia—but her heart burned with the desire to share the story singing in her heart. Coming to visit Aunt Theodora had offered the perfect blend of adventure and inspiration.

Ned Waymire departed the room and his footsteps could be heard climbing the staircase.

That man was the epitome of adventure and inspiration.

Copyright © 2015 K. McCaffrey LLC

Kristy's Website | Kristy Blog ~ Pathways | Facebook | Twitter

The Wild, Wild, West of…Florida?

A couple of weeks ago I was at Daytona International Speedway watching some of the world’s best sports car drivers compete in the Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona. (That’s 24 hours of non-stop racing… Overnight… Talk about noisy!)

In the last few hours of the big race, I began thinking about how racecar drivers are, in many ways, the wild cowboys of today. They’re smart about the nature of their job, they don’t mind taking a few risks, they’re competitive with their peers…

 

There are quite a few similarities between the drivers of today and their transportation, and my characters from the old west:

TODAY = OLD WEST

Horsepower = Horsepower

Leather seat = Leather saddle

Gas pedal = Spurs

Brakes = Reins

Racing helmet = Cowboy hat

Tires = Good horse shoes

Grain alcohol for fuel = Oats & grain as feed

Where the heroes in my stories need a strong, healthy, reliable mount, the “cowboys” of today want the same thing, really. 

What similarities did I miss? I’ll give away a print copy of one of my PRP anthologies or one copy of a book from my backlist to someone who leaves a comment. (Don’t forget to include your email address!)

Happy Reading ~

Tracy

www.TracyGarrett.com

Facebook.com/TracyGarrett.author

Reviews, Awards, and Other Elusive Critters by @JacquieRogers

Website | Pickle Barrel Gazette | Amazon

Reviews, Awards, and Other Elusive Critters

This last week has been really somethin'!

Caroline Clemmons and I found out that our duet, Mail-Order Tangle, had received a 5-star review (thank you, Sorrel!) so was in the running for Long and Short Review's Book of the Month. We were already happy as two puppies in a rawhide chewy store because of the great review, so this was just the cherry on top.

Our readers and friends rallied and yes...
Mail-Order Tangle did win!

Needless to say, we've been doing the happy dance since we found out about the win this morning, and we're ever so thankful to the Prairie Roses, Western Fictioneers, members of the Pickle Barrel Bar and Books, Ann Charles' Purple Door Saloon, the Western Historical Romance Book Club, Pioneer Hearts, The Authors' Billboard, and Easychair Bookshop, as well as the beta readers and all readers who've supported us through this entire endeavor. Also, Claudia Stephan of the Books, Readers, Authors, Reviews and Events page posted several times.

So how about winning LASR Book of the Month?  Sales rose during the vote trolling, but fell quite a bit after we won the award.  That seems a bit wacko to me but that's the way of it.  (Disclaimer: I haven't checked the ranking since Thursday.)  Yes, we've tweeted and FB'd after the fact as well.  So was haranguing our friends worth it?  The jury is out.  But now Mail-Order Tangle is an award-winning book, and we can use that to butter our way to better advertising.  Plus, we get a month of free advertising at LASR.  Free advertising is always good.

Authors are always asking about what's worth doing and what's merely a time suck that we think we have to do (I'm looking at you, Twitter).  Truth is, you just don't know until you give it a whirl.  I've had Much Ado About Miners (Hearts of Owyhee #3) on a blog tour all month.  One or two blogs post the book's promo every single day for 28 days.  Those blog posts are tweeted, G+'d, Facebooked, Tsu'd... you name it.  I'm sure everyone is getting sick of seeing the cover by now.  Has it helped sales?  No--that book lost ranking this month.  The other books are doing better for some reason.  Maybe "miners" just doesn't sound romantic.  I have no idea.

Also, even though several blog owners said the book would be reviewed, only one has, and that review isn't exactly usable (3.5 whatevers).  She obviously skimmed the book really quickly because everything with which she had difficulties is there.  Still, 3.5 isn't terrible and it does add to the necessary pile of reviews that we need so badly, and I'm grateful her for taking the time to write it.  After all, these book bloggers love books and they do these reviews out of the goodness of their hearts.  

About the money: I spent $40 on the blog tour.  That's not much and I'm not getting much.  It's not the blog tour host, either--she's done a great job.  But I've talked to several friends who've bought tours with different companies, and they all report similar results.  Many of the blogs cater to readers who simply aren't my audience, for one thing.  And for another, blogs are definitely losing their marketing punch.  

I've had a lot more response when Claudia's Book Talk selected Much Ado About Mavericks for the February read.  That has helped sales.  The huge difference is that even though the book group is a smaller audience, they're an extremely targeted audience.  Every single one of them loves books every bit as much as we do.  We write 'em--they read 'em.  (Although there are several authors there, too, including me.)

Paid advertising has helped my books every single time.  I haven't had a BookBub ad yet, but Book Gorilla, Ereader News Today, Kindle Nation Daily, and others do help give you a spike in sales.  Used in combination with other venues and they're even more effective.  

Speaking of other venues, Kathleen Rice Adams and I belong to a group that uses Pinterest boards to hold their sales.  I'm really curious as to whether we can build on this, and maybe use it for westerns.  There are a lot of horse lovers on Pinterest, that's for sure.  That group is also looking to build its newsletter because nearly every successful advertiser (can you spell BookBub?) a huge subscriber base, which translates into sales.

And IMHO, that's what we Roses, and all western writers need--an easy to create newsletter with free and bargain books and a big honkin' subscriber list.  I'm talking thousands.  Five figures.  Six figures.  A million!  Yes, we can do it.

What do you think?  What  is the best way to raise the appreciation level for westerns, both traditional and romance?  Let's talk!

I'll give a digital copy of Much Ado About Miners to a commenter.

Hearts of Owyhee

Much Ado About Madams

Much Ado About Marshals

Much Ado About Miners

Much Ado About Mavericks

coming soon:

Much Ado About Mustangs

Amazon Author Page

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