Category Archives: Furbaby Friday

Furbaby Friday with Author Jennifer Wilck


I’m glad to welcome fellow Wild Rose Press Author Jennifer Wilck who shares about her special furbaby. her family, writing, and exciting new release.

Jennifer: Our dog rescued my family and me when she was approximately two years old. We count her birthday as her adoption day, April 10.

After my two daughters argued over approximately thirty names, they settled on the extremely non-creative name of Midnight. As an author, I’m a little embarrassed about that, and swear my character names are better—I hope!

I have no idea why her original family gave her up, because she is the smartest, most well behaved dog, I’ve ever known.

She learned her name within three days.

We don’t let her upstairs because of my allergies, and not only did she learn not to go upstairs within the first day at our house, but she transfers that training to my parents’ house as well.

She can tell, based on the clothes I wear when I come downstairs in the morning whether or not I’m taking her for a walk (even my kids don’t do that!).

She only eats food if you tell her to, which means when you drop food on the floor, she looks at you first before going after it. An awesome trait, except that I STILL have to vacuum up crumbs.

(Midnight at the vet hoping for a treat)

She likes people better than animals. When we walk, she goes up to the human while their dog goes up to her. However, her best dog friend is Chester, a 90-pound hound. She’s 30 pounds. And she thinks she’s the alpha. She makes him walk behind her and she barks at any dog that tries to come near him. She’s fickle in her affections, though, and if she’s not in the mood for him to sniff her, she runs through his legs. Or she turns her head away and refuses to look at him. Poor guy.

I spend a lot of time at my computer—I’m a writer, after all. When she wants attention, she sits at my feet and leans against my legs. If I don’t notice her, she bangs against me. So I stop, rub her back and give her the attention we both need. Sitting all day would otherwise be boring and unhealthy.

Walking her in the morning provides me with inspiration. We live on a lake and it’s 3.5 miles around. She loves it because she gets exercise and a chance to sniff everything. I love it because it gets me moving, gets my creative juices flowing and wakes me up.

We’re a good team, she and I. And I think I might be a better writer because of her.

Beth: What a touching story about Midnight rescuing you and your family, Jennifer. I agree, that’s often the way with our ‘rescues.’ They actually rescue us.

Jennifer: Addicted to Love is my first contemporary romance with The Wild Rose Press. It’s the first book in an anticipated three-book series. While the story is a mainstream romance, the characters are Jewish, which I think adds some spice and variety to the story, especially the meddlesome-yet-loveable grandma and the food! The setting is Hoboken, NJ and New York City. And, like many of my other books, there is a child. In this case, she’s a teenager. As the mom of two teen girls, I have a lot of experience in this area, and it was fun creating a relatable character that showcases the best side teenage girlhood (and, of course, a few eye rolls, because, you know, teenagers!). I hope you enjoy it!

Blurb: Dan Rothberg struggled after an accident killed his wife and he nearly lost custody of his daughter. He can no longer allow himself to get attached to anything or anyone. Until he meets Hannah.

Hannah Cohen is a young executive with a meddlesome grandmother and a troubled brother. She’d like nothing better than to find her own Mr. Right, after too many Mr. Wrongs. A sexy older man with a teenage daughter was never in her plans.

As they navigate their relationship through adolescent attitudes and grandmotherly interference, they realize age is just a number and love can be right in front of them. But when the terrible truth of Dan’s former struggles is exposed, Hannah must decide if she can get past his deception and allow love to conquer all.

Buy Links:

The Wild Rose Press: https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/5133-addicted-to-love.html?search_query=jennifer+wilck&results=2

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Addicted-Love-Serendipity-Book-1-ebook/dp/B071HZQS4S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1499096714&sr=8-1&keywords=jennifer+wilck

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/addicted-to-love-jennifer-wilck/1126454796?ean=2940157486310

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/addicted-to-love-13

Biography: Jennifer started telling herself stories as a little girl when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Her favorite stories to write are those with smart, sassy, independent heroines; handsome, strong and slightly vulnerable heroes; and her stories always end with happily ever after.

In the real world, she’s the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men she knows. When she’s not writing, she loves to laugh with family and friends, is a pro at finding whatever her kids lost in plain sight, and spends way too much time closing doors that should never have been left open. She believes humor is the only way to get through the day and doesn’t share her chocolate.

She writes contemporary romance, some of which are mainstream and some of which involve Jewish characters. All are available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Social Media:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Jennifer-Wilck-201342863240160/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JWilck

Website: http://www.jenniferwilck.com

Blog: http://jenniferwilck.blogspot.com

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jenniferwilck/

Furbaby Friday with Author Laura Strickland


I am happy to welcome Author Laura Strickland, who has a heart for elderly dogs. What a wonderful picture of Laura with her adopted dog, Jessie.

Laura: The Privilege of Loving to the End

“Why would you adopt such an old dog? You’re just letting yourself in for a lot of trouble, expense and heartache.”

I’ve heard this objection many times. My husband and I are in the habit of taking our dog, Jessie, with us to local festivals and gatherings just as we also took our last dog, Shannon. People who stop to admire our pet invariably ask, “How old is she?” And when we tell them, folks look taken aback.

Jessie, probably a spaniel/poodle mix, is our second senior rescue. The first, Shannon, came to us from a local rescue organization after her elderly owner failed to return from a hospital visit. Shannon’s story touched us so deeply we never hesitated to open our home to her, even though she was estimated to be eleven years old at the time. We had her almost exactly three years before we lost her to degenerative neuropathy. Every one of those days was a joy, and knowing we gave her a happy, safe and loving place to spend the end of her life more than made up for the pain.

Not to say losing Shannon wasn’t devastating. Anyone who’s lost a beloved pet knows how it feels—just as if a big empty hole has opened in your soul. You’d think after that we’d hesitate to take on another senior dog but lo and behold, along came Jessie. Estimated to be at least ten at that time, she was surrendered to an overcrowded shelter in another state and narrowly missed being euthanized. So my husband and I looked at one another, drew a deep breath and took the plunge again.

(Shannon)

Jessie, as you can see from the picture of her cuddling with me, bonded with us quickly. She’s proved herself to be a little angel full of love and happiness, energy and fun. Of course she’s had her health challenges. And if my husband and I are honest with each other, just lately we have to admit we can see her slowing down. You see, she’s also nearing her three-year mark with us. And we know what’s ahead.

But I’ll tell you something: it’s a privilege to love a dog to the end, to be the one who holds and reassures her, to be the last loving voice she hears. Will I be willing to rescue another senior dog in the future? Fool that I am, I probably will.

Beth: How deeply moving, Laura. I understand why you do it. God bless you and your husband for taking in these senior dogs. I know the love they give in return is worth the pain, but I also can well imagine the heartache.

About Laura’s wonderful books:

The heroine of my most recent Scottish Romance, The Hiring Fair, is also a fool for animals. Annie MacCallum collects stray and injured creatures the way other women collect hats. Is it so surprising she’d also take on a farm worker with an injured hand? Is Annie’s compassion her weakness, or her strength?

Blurb for The Hiring Fair:

Brutally dispossessed during the Highland Clearances, Tam Sutherland comes to the hiring fair at Oban, Scotland hoping to find a job for the season. But his maimed right hand, inflicted by the same cruel factor responsible for his parents’ deaths, means he’s one of few men available when the beautiful woman makes her surprising announcement: she’s looking not for a hand but a husband, not just for the season but forever.

Annie MacCallum is under threat from a brutal factor also, back at her home farm—one who preys on unmarried women. If she’s to protect all those who rely on her, including her beloved animals, she must have a husband, if only in name. Secretly glad when the attractive Tam takes up her proposition, she doesn’t realize she’s dragging him into a situation that will trigger old demons. Nor does she expect to give him her heart.

Social and buy links:

Author Web site: www.laurastricklandbooks.com

Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000002632317

Author Amazon page:  http://www.amazon.com/Laura-Strickland/e/B001KHSACW/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Buy link Amazon: http://amzn.to/2aSfWzi

Buy link Amazon Canada: http://bit.ly/2aSgBRn

Buy link Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2aSgYvq

Buy link The Wild Rose Press:

http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/4472-the-hiring-fair.html

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2aSgBRn

Author bio:

Born and raised in Western New York, Laura Strickland has pursued lifelong interests in lore, legend, magic and music, all reflected in her writing. Though she loves to travel, she can usually be found at home not far from Lake Ontario, with her husband and her “fur” child, a rescue dog. Author of Scottish romances Devil Black, His Wicked Highland Ways, Honor Bound: A Highland Adventure and The Hiring Fair as well as The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy consisting of Daughter of Sherwood, Champion of Sherwood and Lord of Sherwood, she has also published four Steampunk romances, Dead Handsome: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure, Off Kilter: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure, award-winning Sheer Madness: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure and Steel Kisses: a Buffalo Steampunk Adventure. Her Lobster Cove Historical Romances include The White Gull, Forged By Love (which won the International Digital Award) and Words and Dreams.

Furbaby Friday with Author C.B. Clark


I am happy to welcome fellow Wild Rose Press Author C.B. Clark to share her faithful friend, Jazz, with us and a bit about her new romantic suspense.

C.B. Clark: I’ve always loved Tom T. Hall’s song lyrics: “Ain’t but three things in this world that’s worth a solitary dime, but old dogs and children and watermelon wine.” I’ve never tried watermelon wine, I like kids, but I love old dogs. There’s something about their calm, trusting gentleness that tugs at my heart.

My dog, Jazz, is a thirteen-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer. That’s ninety-six in human years. Her eyebrows have turned white, her face grizzled and her eyes cloudy. Her once svelte, leanly muscled body has sagged, her back legs bowed from arthritis.  She used to be filled to the brim with frenetic energy and needed two long walks every day to tire her out. Even then she’d grab the old tattered soccer ball and beg me to kick it for her so she could run and catch it, barking in happiness the whole time. She’d leap like a deer over fallen trees, and race ahead on the trail, and sprint back, again and again as if telling me to hurry.

Now as I watch her struggle to rise from her soft bed and lumber painfully along a forest path, tears thicken my throat. Every once in a while, there are flashes of her puppy playfulness. When she digs in her toy box for a well-chewed stuffy and whines until I toss it for her to retrieve, or when she scents a grouse in the forest and her old body stiffens and she forms a perfect point, her tail wagging a mile a minute in excitement and pride.

A unique bond develops between an older dog and its owner. Maybe it’s their gazes filled with patience, wisdom, and acceptance. Maybe it’s the certain knowledge that time with your pet is limited. You relish every minute you have together.

I still take my old girl on daily walks, meandering from one smell to another enjoying each other’s company and living each minute to the fullest. Even as I write this blog, Jazz is lying beside me snoring contentedly. Every once in a while, she lifts her head and watches me as if to say, ‘We’re in this together, old friend.’ Yes, Tom T Hall had it right. Old dogs are one of life’s special treasures.

Beth: I totally agree. Older dogs are, indeed, special. Deeply so. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my dear Sadie. Jazz sounds like a wonderful friend and treasure.

Blurb for Bitter Legacy:

Sharla-Jean Bromley returns to her hometown after a seventeen-year absence with vengeance in her heart. From the very beginning, her plans go awry when she meets devastatingly handsome Josh Morgan, the man to whom her father left half of his multi-million dollar lumber mill.

Josh, suspicious of Sharla-Jean’s reasons for returning to town after such a long absence, vows to keep control of the company he feels is rightfully his. She is equally determined to prove she can run her father’s mill, even though it means working side-by-side with Josh, a man whose very presence evokes an attraction that is increasingly difficult for her to ignore. In the process, they must overcome a villain who’s determined to destroy both the lumber mill and their lives.

Will Sharla-Jean succeed and heal the anguish that has long filled her soul? Wills he and Josh find the passion of a lifetime?

Excerpt:

Fire!

Even as the dreaded word reared like a monster inside her head, a thin trickle of smoke crept out of the dark storage room. Terrifying images of flame, smoke and searing heat threatened to overwhelm her. For a nightmare second, she was back in the midst of scorching heat and roaring flames.

Using all her strength of will, she tore free of the chilling memories. Instead of fleeing, she placed one wobbly step in front of the other and shuffled toward the storage room. Her nostrils flared at the acrid tang of gasoline and smoke. With a shaking hand, she gripped the door handle and opened the door.

A figure burst out of the darkness, crashing into her, knocking her back.

She yelped at the pain of the blow and the shock of falling. A jolt of agony and blinding light as her head hit something hard.

Heavy boots pounded across the tile floor. Cold air washed over her. And then darkness.

Buy links for Bitter Legacy:

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06ZZVR5LJ/

Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/bitter-legacy-c-b-clark/1126254341?ean=2940157509132

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/bitter-legacy-4

The Wild Rose Press

Author bio for C.B. Clark

C.B. Clark has always loved reading, especially romances, but it wasn’t until she lost her voice for a year that she considered writing her own romantic suspense stories. She grew up in Canada’s Northwest Territories and Yukon. Graduating with a degree in Anthropology and Archaeology, she has worked as an archaeologist and an educator, teaching students from the primary grades through the first year of college. She enjoys hiking, canoeing, and snowshoeing with her husband and dog near her home in the wilderness of central British Columbia.

Social Media Links:

Blog https://cbclarkauthor.wordpress.com

Twitter https://twitter.com/cbclarkauthor

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

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15029617.C_B_Clark

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/C.-B.-Clark/e/B01BK61TQG/

(Jazz–a German Shorthaired Pointer)

 

Furbaby Friday with Author P.L. Parker


Friend and fellow Author P.L. Parker is sharing about her amazing childhood friend, a little dog with a big heart who didn’t know he was small, and giving away a copy of her featured romance. More on that below.

…And then there was Spike

(Spike with Patsy’s brother)

He was already 2 years old when Grandma and Grandpa found him for us. Scrawny and ugly, dirty brown and unkempt, he was a far cry from Sandy, our beautiful little Chihuahua who’d recently died of kennel cough. He had the large soulful eyes and a baby face and his name was Spike, a strange name for a little part Chihuahua/terrier who barely weighed in at 5 pounds. He was scared and mean, having spent the first two years of his life beaten and tied up in a dark basement, maturing without anyone to train him or give him love.

The first few days, he hid under a chair and as we walked by, he’d jump out and bite our ankles and then dive back into his hidey-hole. Finally, my dad got disgusted, put on a pair of leather gloves and dragged him out biting and squealing. Dad sat him on his lap, talked soothingly to him, petting his back until he settled down. One by one, Dad had us come over slowly, put our hand out so Spike could smell it and then, if Spike was willing, we could pet him. After we’d all introduced ourselves, it was if Spike said “okay, these are my people.” He got down off of Dad’s lap and found his food bowl. That was the beginning of our life with Spike. Once the good food and lots of love kicked in, Spike’s coat turned into a beautiful light golden blonde.

He was gutter smart, not the fancy trained pet who did everything we wanted, but he was so smart—and he adored us kids. I could dress him up in my doll clothes and he’d wear them proudly for as long as I wanted.

I had a special connection with him. I could just tell him things and he would do it. I had a pet hamster once and we were playing in the back yard. Mom called me in to do something. I told Spike to keep the hamster in the back yard, went in the house and promptly forgot about them. Hours later, near dark, Mom asked: “Anybody seen Spike?” Oops.  I ran outside and there was Spike still herding the hamster around the back yard. I apologized and picked the hamster up. Spike glared at me as if to say “you idiot,” and then marched into the house and ate his dinner.

There was a human trapped inside that little body. He was a hunter, a protector and from his point of view, a German Shepard. There wasn’t a dog in the world he wouldn’t take on, much to our dismay. I can’t count the amount of times he’d slip out of the house and come back so chewed up, we thought he was dead for sure. On one such event, we didn’t think there was any hope. Spike crawled under a chair for days, not eating, not drinking. (I should mention here that Spike’s favorite food was chocolate and back then we didn’t know how dangerous it was for animals.)  Worried about the little guy, Mom went out and bought him a whole box of chocolates and hand fed him. He gobbled them down and then he was fine.

He always went everywhere with us. He would sit over the front seat so he could watch out the window and even when Dad had to slam on the brakes, he never fell off. Our female Siamese cat Tammy was his close companion and she went on vacation with us as well. We never worried about her running away, she was always two steps behind Spike. On vacation to northern Idaho one year, it was so hot, we stopped along the river and we all piled out and into the water. Spike waded in and right behind him was Tammy. They flopped down in the water next to us for as long as we stayed in. Tammy was Spike’s baby and when she died we all, as well as Spike, mourned her for a long long time.

(Spike with her father)

As I said, he loved us kids. One year at the lake in Yellowstone Park, my sister and I were about waist high in the water. Spike was on the beach with Dad so we started bobbing up and down, acting like we were drowning. Spike grabbed Dad’s pant leg and tried to drag him into the water. Finally, he jumped in and swam out, to save us I am sure. When he got to us, we jumped up and laughed saying “Ha Ha Spike, we fooled you.” He was so mad. He swam back to shore, shook himself off and then stalked to the camper where he stayed the rest of the day.

He loved to hunt and no one can tell me a Chihuahua isn’t a hunting dog. If Dad got his shotgun, Spike was on his tail begging to go. We were out pheasant hunting one day and two hunters came by with their fancy, expensive hunting dogs.  They’d just come through a field and hadn’t flushed anything. Dad laughed, told them their dogs were worthless. Didn’t make them happy. He put down Spike and told him to flush. Spike ran to the brush, paced back and forth and then froze, looking over his shoulder at Dad.  Dad gave him the go to flush and the little guy dove in.  Three pheasants flew up. Spike bit on the tail of the rooster and wouldn’t let go. Needless to say, the other two hunters loaded up their dogs in a huff and drove off.  The rooster was so big, he flew off with Spike on his tail. We thought we’d lost him, but he ran back a little bit later.  Even when he was so old he couldn’t keep up, Dad would put him in a front pack and take him along.

My oldest sister moved out but came home to visit and when she did, she had this nasty part Siamese cat who was really mean. One day I was sitting on the couch and Spike was next to me and the cat was ripping at a chair, biting people as they walked by and just being a brat. I looked at Spike and said, “Go over there and shake the crap out of that cat.”  He looked at me as if to say “really?” Then he got down, went over to the chair, hopped up, grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and shook the cat hard as he could. He got down, came back, sat by me and yawned.  Across the room, my Dad was sitting there with his mouth hanging open. He said, “How’d you get him to do that?” I said: “I told him to.”

I have so many memories of that little dog.  You might think these stories are fabrications, but believe me they’re not and these are just the tip of the iceberg. As I’m sitting here writing this, I begin to cry, for the loss of the little friend of my childhood and for the wonderful times gone by.  He lived to be 18 years old and by that time, he’d lost an eye to a tumor and was somewhat senile, but he never failed to get excited when one of us kids would come home.  Somewhere out there, a little dog is just waiting for us to come home—and he’ll be so happy when we do.~

***Wonderful story. I loved learning about this amazing dog, Made me tear up.

A pic of what Spike might look like in color. He was a Deer head chihuahua.

A bit from the author:

I am a dreamer, an avid reader of fiction, a sometimes gardener and an inept crafter. I live in Idaho, with my husband, three sons, daughter-in-law and little granddaughter. I love to travel, but always return to my beloved Idaho. For many years, I performed and taught dance but as time passed, I decided to try my hand at a new endeavor – writing. I enjoy life and all its promises

***PL Parker is giving away a copy of The Breeder Slave to one of the visitors leaving a comment.

Blurb for Science Fiction Romance Novel Breeder Slave:

He was her salvation…or her destruction.

The galactic war between the Chiagan-Se and the treacherous Deg’Nara wages on. The human females Leah and the Irish lass Moira are captured and then abandoned, forced to fend for themselves on a barren planet light years from all they know. Their only hope is Sulas, a fugitive breeder slave, who wants nothing to do with them. Survival is chancy at best, but together, the three embark on a perilous journey to rejoin the Chiagan-Se rebels. But can they survive?

Excerpt:

“He wants one of us to find his pet,” Leah grumbled. “Like we haven’t got better things to do.”

“Well, I cannae leave my post,” the petite redhead retorted. “I need to keep track of any emissions from the Deg’Nara encampment.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to look for,” Leah grumbled. “Could be a two-headed dog for all I know.”

Sulas regarded them with curious intensity, as if he understood their conversation, which was ridiculous since he didn’t speak English.

“You will need to search for the creature,” Sulas nodded in her direction. “I don’t trust Eschel. He needs watching and Moira has her duties.”

Leah snorted, disgusted. “And what kind of creature am I looking for? I don’t recall him mentioning that.”

Eschel favored her with a wide grin. “She’s a Zostarian….”

Sulas coughed and then turned away.

What’s with that?

“…a young female, practically an infant,” Eschel continued. “I call her Zozzi though she answers to anything. She’s very affectionate and sweet but she hates the Deg’Nara. I suspect she is hiding in the rafters of the storage compartments.” He turned back to the command console. “Just call her name and then say dostia ka.”

Looks like I’m elected to lead the hunting expedition! “And what does dostia ka mean if I might be so bold as to ask?”

“Come here…close enough. She’ll understand.” He spun on his chair. “She’s been hiding for some time and probably hungry by now. I suspect there wasn’t much for her to eat in the cargo hold.”

“Any chance she’s a meat eater…like maybe human meat?” Better get that cleared up before I find out the hard way.

Sulas ignored them, staring at the holographic star chart as though his life depended on it.

            “Zozzi eats what I eat,” Eschel said. “But she prefers plants and bugs.”

“Oh great, plants and bugs.” As an afterthought. “What kind of bugs?” Bugs came in all sizes and she herself might be considered a bug in the right environment.

“She will not hurt you,” Eschel grinned again. “She’s a female and much less aggressive than the males can be.” He whistled, the shrill sound long and annoying. “You don’t want to mess with the males.”

Leah sighed, a scrap more relieved but still nervous. “So all I do is go into the cargo hold and call her name and say dostia ka? And then she’ll come to me and it’ll be fine?”

“It will be fine,” Eschel agreed. “But hurry, she’s probably scared…”

Sulas coughed again, the sound suspiciously akin to a chuckle.

“Okay, okay,” she groused before switching to English. “Moira, I’m depending on you to save me if anything happens. I have a weird feeling about this little episode and I don’t trust these two as far as I can throw them.”

Sympathy etched Moira’s baby face. “I willnae fail you,” she vowed with solemn resolve. “If you scream, I will come.”

“Just you remember you said that!” She inhaled a deep breath. “It can’t be that bad. Here I go. Dostia ka Zozzi! she trilled as she strode down the passageway towards the cargo hold. “Dostia ka!”

The panel to the cargo hold slid open. Leah hesitated, allowing her eyes to adjust to the murky dimness of the cluttered space as the musty smell of old storage bins wafted through the door. She took a cautious step forward. “Dostia ka Zozzi!” she called.

Nothing.

Zozzi. Dostia ka! Woohoo!”

            Still nothing. Wonder if I’m getting treated to a good old snipe hunt—Chiagan-Se style!

She inched forward, noting the dark corners and concealed areas where the creature could secrete itself.  She shivered as tremors of anxiety traveled up her spine. It’s just too dark and quiet in here!

“Dostia ka, Zozzi!” she sing-songed. “Dostia ka!”

Her voice sounded tremulous even to her. “There better be something in here or someone is in sooo much trouble!”

Overhead, she heard what sounded like the flutter of wings. Did the creature fly?

“Zozzi, dostia ka!” Head tilted back, she scanned the darkness beyond the rafters.

Another flutter of wings. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

A soft chirrup—like a squirrel.

“Come on, baby,” she crooned, making smoochie noises. “I won’t hurt you.”

A black shadow erupted from the darkness. She caught a glimpse of bat-like wings and a wide open mouth lined with a double row of needle-sharp teeth before the creature landed on her head. Hissing and growling the mini-monster attacked entangling itself in her hair.

She screamed like a banshee, tearing at the little bastard. Leathery wings covered her face sticking to her skin like strips of psychotic Velcro. If she pulled one wing free, the creature clutched her with tiny claw-like feet as it wrapped the other wing around her. It’s trying to suffocate me!

She screamed again, rotating in a stumbling spin as she grappled with the hellish fiend. It wouldn’t let go!

Amidst the screaming and growling, she heard the cargo door slide open.

Lord save us!” She heard Moira yelp. “I’ll go for help!”

NO!” Leah screeched. “Don’t leave me!”

****Follow P.L. Parker on Amazon and visit her page: https://www.amazon.com/P.-L.-Parker/e/B002BMIAPM

Purchase The Breeder Slave in Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/Breeder-Slave-P-L-Parker-ebook/dp/B01N7YXDW9

Visit her Website:  https://www.plparker.com/

Blog spot:  http://plparker.blogspot.com/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/PLParker

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Contact her at: E-mail: plparker92@yahoo.com

Furbaby Friday with Author Caroline Clemmons


Today I am welcoming my friend and fellow author, Caroline Clemmons, who is sharing her life writing with a furbaby.

Caroline: As a child, I wasn’t allowed to have pets. My husband, who I call Hero, and I and our two daughters have had several family pets over the years. We loved each one as a family member. Our little Shih Tzu, Webster, died earlier this year and we still miss him terribly. We have three cats that have helped us in our grief over losing Webster.

Writing is usually a solitary profession. A few authors take their laptop to a café or write amidst the family’s comings and goings. Most of us tuck ourselves in a corner or an office where we can work uninterrupted. I have a small pink office that I love. Always welcome is a furbaby who wants to snuggle or simply keep me company. I have to admit my favorite is our black and white tuxedo cat, Sebastian.

Sebastian

My soft-hearted Hero met Sebastian while fishing at a local lake. Sebastian was the runt half the size of his siblings. Hero mentioned to the lake’s store clerk that he’d like to have that kitten. One day she called and said “his” kitten was in a box and he’d better hurry to pick him up because the store owner had already called animal control about the others.

When Hero brought Sebastian home, the kitten was too thin and fit in my husband’s hand. Poor little baby was not yet weaned. We bottle fed him until he was old enough for kitten pablum—which, by the way, looked just like human baby pablum.

That was over nine years ago. He’s no longer a runt, but is very long and tall and weighs 20 pounds. Sebastian’s my almost-constant companion. When he’s not with me, he usually sleeps on the corner of my side of our bed or—if we’re watching TV—on the back of the couch.

He senses when we’re upset and stays near to offer his company. About the only time he deserts me or our bed is when someone in our house is ill. Then, he stays by their side to guard them. Our eldest daughter is staying with us because of a shattered femur that (we hope) is finally healing after 21 months and six operations and bone grafts. Sebastian has stayed by her side at those low times when she’s been discouraged about her lack of progress.

Sebastian likes a schedule and lets me know when he thinks it’s my bedtime—he wants everyone where they’re supposed to be. He usually sleeps beside me or at my feet. Even though he’s a cat, he’s very vocal and can say “no”, “more”, “now”, “okay”, “here”, and a few other words. He calls me “Care-woe” but only uses my name when he wants something. I know—only a cat owner would believe that.

I love having Sebastian share my life—even when he sits on my arm and makes using the keyboard difficult or tries to “help” me make the bed or fold laundry. I agree with so-called experts who say pets calm us, lower high blood pressure, and extend our lives. I still miss Webster and the other pets we’ve lost, but I find comfort in having Sebastian as my companion.~

Caroline Clemmons is an Amazon bestselling and award winning author of historical and contemporary western romances. A frequent speaker at conferences and seminars, she has taught workshops on characterization, point of view, and layering a novel.

*** I very much enjoyed hearing about Sebastian. What a wonderful cat. Now, for a bit about Caroline’s latest release.

Amazing view from Moro Rock in Sequoia National Park, California.

Blurb for Lorraine

How to escape marriage to an odious man .

Leave the state.

Lorraine Stuart joins a group of women traveling to Tarnation, Texas, a town with numerous bachelors but no unmarried women. She longs to meet a man who will admire her and the writing ability that has her published in several publications, by a pseudonym, of course. Just her luck, out of all those in Tarnation, she falls for the most stubborn man she’s ever met. But the handsome newspaper owner is the only one who makes her heart flutter.

Grant Pettigrew has worked hard to establish the Tarnation Gazette. He is intrigued by Lorraine but he won’t let a woman write for his newspaper. Besides, he can’t afford to hire anyone yet. The redhead is gorgeous and ignites dreams of family, but he’s never met a more obstinate woman.

Will two immovable forces join to form a forever love?~

Author Bio: Caroline and her husband live in the heart of Texas cowboy country with their menagerie of rescued pets. When she’s not indulging her passion for writing, Caroline enjoys family, reading, travel, antiquing, genealogy, and getting together with friends. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, Google+, WattPad, Shelfari, and Pinterest.

Click on her Amazon Author Page for a complete list of her books and follow her there.

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She loves to hear from her readers at caroline@carolineclemmons.com