Tag Archives: dog rescue

Furbaby Friday with Paty Jager

I’m happy to have fellow country gal, Paty Jager, here to share her little dog, Tink, and latest western romance from her Shandra Higheagle Mystery series.

My Furbaby Tink by Paty Jager

Tinkerbelle or Tink, as we call her, is a mini-pincher, chihuahua cross that I brought home when she was only five weeks old.
It all started with me making over an older couple’s dog that their granddaughter had given them. He was a min-pin/chihuahua mix named Mokie. I liked his personality, his manners, the way he carried himself. When we visited them, or they visited us, I would hold Mokie and talk to him. We’d moved into a new house we’d built and had lost our mini-schnauzer to old age. I told my husband, I didn’t want any more house dogs. We had three outside dogs. One was ours and the other two were our daughters’ that had been left behind when they went to college.

Molly, Boots, and Maverick

The older couple showed up at the house one day and told me to get in their van. I did, and they took me to a house with a mother dog and 8 puppies. “You get the pick of the litter,” they said. Mokie had sired the litter with a chihuahua mix female. There were four puppies who had the same coloring as Mokie. I sat on the floor and watched them moving around. One came over to me, crawled up my leg, and sat in my hand. She was as big as my palm. She had a kink in her tail. I said I’d take this one. The lady with the female dog said, “You might as well take her today. The mom doesn’t have enough milk and I’ve been feeding them puppy chow.” She gave me a small bag of puppy chow because I wasn’t prepared to take a dog home. But I did.

(Riding on a tractor)

Because she was so small, we named her Tinkerbelle, but call her Tink. We had snow, and she was so small she couldn’t walk through it. I had to clear the snow in a small patch so she could go to the bathroom. But she also didn’t like the cold and would shiver and not go. We ended up most of that winter using a pad in the utility room for her.
She also couldn’t get up the stairs to my writing area. I would carry her up, and she’d sleep on my lap or in a bed by the desk. She still follows me into my office every day and sleeps on a bed next to my desk as I write.

(Looking for Sage rats)

Because she was so young when I got her, she has never learned to play with other dogs. When they try to play with her, she puts her nose in the air and walks away. She tolerates another dog sniffing her, but then moves off. She will play with a toy and with me or my husband. She has been leery of the smaller grandchildren but will tolerate the older ones petting her when they first arrive. After about thirty minutes she’s had enough and finds a quiet place to sleep.
She likes to go on walks, enjoys laying in a chair on the porch in the sun, chasing sage rats, and riding in tractors and farm equipment. She thinks she’s bigger than she is.

(Mikey and Harlie)

We have two other dogs at this time. One is my husband’s dog, Mikey, who is two to three times the size of Tink. She tolerates him, and they go for rides in the backhoe with my husband. We also inherited my dad’s dog Harlie, she’s a border collie/boxer mix with a lot of energy and gentle disposition. She has tried to play with Tink but has been snapped at for the attempt.

I’m not sure what I’ll do when my 13 year-old Tink leaves us. She has been the best dog I’ve ever had. She only barks if someone comes and then she stops as soon as you tell her to. She has manners. I can leave open food in the car with her and she won’t touch it unless I give it to her. She knows the words, thirsty, hungry, kids, walk, backhoe, tractor and many more. She is clean, doesn’t roll in nasty stuff like the other two. And tolerates baths.

Because of my love of dogs, my character, Shandra Higheagle in my Shandra Higheagle mystery series, has a big, furry, goofball of a dog that in some cases helps her find clues to the murders.
In my current release, Artful Murder, Sheba, the dog, hears someone leave a package on the doorstep and keeps Shandra safe.

(Tink helping Paty sell books)

Blurb from Artful Murder, Book ten in the Shandra Higheagle Mystery Series
Secrets… Scandal… Murder…

An autistic boy and his brother need potter Shandra Higheagle’s help when a teacher’s body is found after a confrontation with the older brother. Shandra knows the boy is innocent. Digging into the teacher’s life, she and Ryan turn up scandal.
Detective Ryan Greer has believed in Shandra’s dreams in the past, but she can’t always be right. When his investigation uncovers a principal on the take, females being harassed, and parents kept in the dark, he discovers more suspects than the brothers. Shandra’s time at the school is coming to an end, and the killer has struck again.


Excerpt from Artful Murder:

“I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll be there sometime this morning, won’t you? To talk to Jennifer?” Shandra buttered her toast and tossed half the slice to Sheba. Having a large dog made it easier to eat foods she shouldn’t. She could take a few bites of the forbidden food and then toss it to her furry companion.

“Yes. I’ll head there after I go by the department and fill in Sheriff Oldham. After the school, I’ll catch up with Mrs. Lawrence at her work. Someone, somewhere is bound to slip up and give me a detail that will give me a foothold on some information.” Ryan set his coffee mug in the sink and stopped beside her. “Please be careful.”

Shandra stared into his pleading eyes. He knew her well enough by now to not tell her what to do. But his caring always did more to shake her need to find the truth anyway.

“I’ll be careful. I just want to make sure the real killer is found.” She hugged Ryan, wondering how she’d been so lucky to have found him.

“Good. We have a wedding to plan for and it’s hard to do that without a bride.” He kissed the top of her head and walked into the living room.

The wedding! She still needed to get the invitations sent out. In all the hubbub the last week or so, she’d forgotten they were in a box in her suitcase in the bedroom. Sheba rose up off the floor as Shandra headed out of the kitchen. Before she crossed the living room, Sheba woofed and pounced on the door.
“You have to go out the back door.” Shandra pivoted toward the kitchen.
Sheba woofed and pounced on the front door again.

Shandra spun around. “You can’t go out there unless I watch you.”
The dog pounced at the door and dug at the floor.

“Okay. I get the point. You want to go out the front door.” Shandra snagged her coat from where it lay across the back of the couch and walked to the door.
Sheba whined and plopped down on her furry backside.

“What is wrong?” Shandra looked out the peephole on the door before opening it. All she spotted were kids headed to school. To avoid one of them getting knocked down by her overgrown puppy, Shandra grabbed the leash by the door and clicked it to the collar.

“Let’s go.” She opened the door and Sheba refused to move. “You’re the one who had to go out this door.” Shandra glanced down and found a shoebox.
She shoved back into the house and closed the door.

Where had she left her phone this morning? A quick look through the living room and kitchen didn’t find it. The second she stepped into the bedroom her gaze landed on the object of her search. She crossed the room, grabbed the cell phone, and hit Ryan’s speed dial number.

“You have reached Detective Ryan Greer—”
“Voicemail!” She hung up and dialed the Sheriff’s Department.
“Weippe County Sheriff’s Department this is Deputy Davis. How may I help you?”
“Cathleen! This is Shandra.”
“Hi Shandra. Ryan is in with the Sher—”
“I know. He’s not answering his phone. Someone left a shoebox on the front porch.” She knew there could be something innocent in the box, but given someone followed her last night, she really didn’t need to find a harmful surprise.

(Tink in the backhoe).

Get Artful Murder in Kindlehttps://www.amazon.com/Artful-Murder-Shandra-Higheagle-Mystery-ebook/dp/B07B282PHN/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Universal Buy Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/bapvjq

Author Bio: Paty Jager is the award-winning author of the Shandra Higheagle Mystery series. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. Paty and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. Riding horses and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it. This is what Mysteries Etc has to say about her Shandra Higheagle mystery series: “Mystery, romance, small town, and Native American heritage combine to make a compelling read.”

blog / website / Facebook / Paty’s Posse / Goodreads / Twitter / Pinterest / Bookbub

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave Paty a comment.

Furbaby Friday with Shenandoah Valley Artist and Author Mike Reisenberg!

I am happy to have animal lover and expert, Mike Reisenberg, on the blog to share a beloved dog memory, and wonderful stories drawn from his life. I have known and admired Mike for years, and was a faithful listener of his radio show.

Abby & Mikey:

Sometimes we dog and animal lovers go looking for a dog. It’s time. We’ve been without a pup since our beloved Champ, Rex, Tinki, or Bear left us. The pain of that loss may have inspired promises we would never have another dog. The pain fades and being without a dog, for a dog lover, is a void more painful. We know the breed that fits us best because that’s the breed our family or we have always had. Pug people are pug people. Lab owners swear they will always have labs and that sentiment is extended to almost every breed by some group or another. Those of us lucky enough  to have shared a house with a Mutt, are not as limited in our search. A trip to the SPCA or shelter almost always guarantees a psychic connection and the next family K-9.

Sometimes happenstance inserts itself and delivers a dog when you positively are not thinking or looking for that K-9 companion.  Normally this happens to first-time dog owners, even those who say they do not like dogs. It often happens to dog lovers not quite ready to replace or add a puppy to their home. It especially happens to those of us thinking we may get a dog, but knowing our family or economic situation, we make the decision to wait. That is when the best dogs find us.

Pam and I and daughter Charity had owned cats. Charity liked cats. We didn’t want a cat and a dog, and I had a basement full of tropical fish and some cockatoos and a red rat snake. If Pam had let me, I would have filled our house with animals, and I’m sure a dog would have been included.

Instead of an in-house zoo that would have threatened my marriage, I purchased The Animal House Pet Shop. About that same time, we were thinking about adopting a baby. Any thought or talk of a dog was quickly hushed as being too much work with a new business et all. The Animal House took in mixed breed dogs for sale. We had them checked by a veterinarian, paid for the required first shots and worming to ensure good health. We then made a modest profit selling them to dog lovers. The idea was the new dog owner would purchase many dollars worth of toys, bowls, leashes, collars, beds and grooming services. Puppies were vet checked before they were accepted and any major health problems were avoided.

The litter of black puppies arrived before Christmas. Their mother was a Heinz 57; their father was unknown. The scruffy litter looked like Scotties and would sell fast. All had that ‘you have to love me’ look and the friendly playful way that endears dogs to anyone with a heart. They checked out, had their shots, and the adoptions started. After a few days, one of the smaller ones became sick. A follow up revealed an infection and hernia that would require surgery and shunts. The little pup needed compresses changed, and I brought her home for my daughter to nurse. I had full intentions of taking her back to the Animal House and selling or giving away a healthy pup.

Charity named her Abby. We took turns with the compresses, and Abby was there to stay! You’re thinking I should have known that? We then had a new business, a cat, and a puppy. Abby ended up looking like a long body Scotty fooling even some Scotty owners into asking who the breeder was. We also adopted a son, Mikey. Abby welcomed him by craping under his bed. He would become her favorite.

Like most of her kind, Abby was not a finicky eater. After a day in Charlottesville, we arrived home to find Abby bloated and her face covered in fish guts and scales. She had also perfumed her body by rolling in the remains of her feast. Our neighbor Jim had cleaned his fish and buried the guts and scales behind his shed. Abby was not a welcomed sight. As luck would have it, Pam’s mother was visiting, and Pam, in a firm, fussing rant, wanted to know why Opal and Charity hadn’t bathed the dog. They had twice! Three times Abby had figured a way out of the house to the waiting well aged fish. Pam’s mom said, she’s your dog and two baths were all she was doing.

Abby was mostly Mikey’s dog; she followed him everywhere. Mikey walked at ten months. The reason for his early two-legged jaunt was Abby. Mikey would grab hold of her back hair, pull himself up and then walk along beside her. Abby seemed to know not to go too fast. Mikey’s little legs grew strong as he gave up crawling for walking alongside his dog. His ten-month solo was at a Christmas Party. Abby barked with delight. They spent the next twelve years running and playing. As dogs often do Abby grew older faster and passed away.

A Pet Supply Christmas Catalog arrived and in it was a page of dog ornaments. One was the splitting image of Abby dressed as a winged angel. She has been on our Christmas Tree ever since. She hangs each year next to Mikey’s paper hand.

Beth: What a touching story, Mike. I loved it.

Mike: I am new to e-books and Kindle. My first five entries are short stories. The titles are  Boots, the Best Dog in the World. The Cave. Rooster Eggs? Fish-tales, Snappers and Fishhooks. The Haunted House at Hopkins Farm.

They were all taken from a larger book that I am still working on. Each event is from my preteen years to age fourteen. Here are some brief passages from each one.


The grownups in the neighborhood called us the Hartwell Boys. We called ourselves the Snakes. As soon as school let out for the summer, we would spend Saturdays hiking and exploring the woods behind Drake hospital. We would rise early, raid the fridge, make sandwiches, and pack our own lunch.

We ate anything and everything from apples to liverwurst to sardines. Our creative combinations between two slices of bread would make Dagwood Bumstead proud. Peanut butter could be spread with anything. Our hope was that Mom didn’t have any chores for us. We were a band of five to seven adventurers. Boots, our dog, came too.


After a drink from our communal canteen, we circled the sinkhole and felt the cool, inviting wisp of escaping air. The leaves had been washed away by recent rains, and the opening looked more friendly than usual.

I stood looking down at the dark hole and welcomed that most pleasant mix of fear, excitement, and anticipation. Like standing in line for your first rollercoaster ride. “We should have brought more ropes.” I heard myself say.

Rooster Eggs:

After Lenore’s first day, she sat at the end of the walk, her feet in the road, sobbing into her apron. She wanted to go home. Her hands hurt, her legs ached, her body cried for sleep, and her eyes tried to wash away the thought of dishes needing cleaning. She would have fled if she had had a place to go.

She may have left on tired legs down that dusty road if she had quit crying before Luther found her.

Fish Tales:

“That’s a BIG turtle” he boasted as if he had caught it himself. “What you fixin’ to do with it?”
“Take it back to camp and eat it.” declared Richard.
“They are good eaten that’s for sure. But hard to clean. You boys ever clean a turtle?”
I nodded yes.
“ Now I know no white boy young as you done cleaned a turtle. Not as big as this un.” He hedged.
“Yes, I have! I helped my Grand Dad in Virginia.”
“Helpings one thing, but cutting through that hard shell…

Haunted House:

The heavy door creaked open, and all but Fritz strode in. The dim was stripped with shafts of thinly sliced sun dancing dust in ribbons of gold, opaque against deeper, darker, bluer shadows. We walked and turned, mouths agape, as if part of a slow-motion square dance, choreographed to silent music, playing the same song, in all our heads. It felt as if the barn was turning around us. Our partner in a song of wonder.

The loft with hand hued ladder; hay bales still waiting to be used; horse collar and plow, buckets, hoes, rakes, egg baskets all placed ready for the days work. A workday that never came ‘till now. Now they would be our tools assisting our work. The best kind of work, the play of young boys.

Thanks for reading.

Beth: Fabulous stories, Mike. Some remind me of my childhood, and my brothers’. I remember your pet shop. The kids and I loved going there.

***Be sure to visit Mike’s Amazon Author page. He is a highly talented artist and also has some wonderful paintings  on that page. He designed his book covers.

To visit his page and browse his kindle books visit:


Thanks for stopping by. Please leave Mike a comment.

Author Miriam Newman and her Rescue Dogs! #FurbabyFriday

I’m very glad to have Miriam Newman here to share her wonderful dogs, the rescue organization she supports, and her book, Recused, the story of Dancer, the pit bull.

Miriam: Thanks to Beth for inviting me today to her lovely blog. I am always delighted to write anything about my furry friends. My advent into animal rescue came in the early 2000’s, when I was living alone for the first time in many years. When my bull terrier died from heart failure, off I went to the local SPCA to adopt a nice, small, furry pet to grace my couch and snuggle with me.
I came home with a pit bull.

Full details of the ensuing hilarity are chronicled in my book Rescued, which you will see below. After intense joy and heartbreak, my beloved pit bull Dancer succumbed to kidney failure, but she had given me an appetite for taking the dogs no one else wants.

Several years later, I saw Dancer’s doppelganger on a page for a rescue in northern New Jersey. It wasn’t even remotely near me, but that was my dog. Luckily, I found a kindred spirit in Jennifer McFadden, who heads the rescue. She and her then-little daughter brought that barfing dog all the way from near New York City to my remote farm tucked far away in Pennsylvania. Oh, the poor brave souls, but their faith was rewarded as Tia—pictured here—went a long way towards filling the gaping hole in my heart.

(Tia the Guardian)

And I was hooked. When Jennifer asked me to foster dogs for her rescue, I plunged in headlong. To date, I have fostered roughly two dozen dogs for several rescues. Four of them remain with me for various reasons—either I couldn’t let go or they couldn’t. (One bites everybody but me!).
Delilah was one of my first rescues. She is now our wise old lady dog. Then there is Kipsy, who thinks she is Tia’s puppy—on what grounds, I don’t know, but there you have it.
And Mushie, everybody’s favorite little mushpot that I can’t live without. How I love that dog.


And finally we have Hank, otherwise known as Jaws. Like the Lord of the Rings, Hank does not share power, so I think my dog rescues are at an end. Still, everything finds me, from a dumped-off pregnant kitty to a riderless horse to a two hundred pound pig on the porch. Anyone who thinks life in the country is boring just doesn’t know.

The dogs are my writing companions in a collection of books on my website. Mainly these are historical and/or fantasy romance, with one exception. I have written the true story of Dancer the pit bull, with Tia posing as cover model. All proceeds from sales of the book go to Home Free Animal Rescue in Red Bank, NJ. I would be thrilled to have you share our story.

Blurb for RESCUED:

What do you do when you are alone in the world? If you’re a nice middle-aged lady with a social conscience, you go to your local shelter and adopt a rescue dog. Of course, sometimes it isn’t only the dog who needs to be rescued. That’s when life might send you a Dancer-Dog.


Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I was published in poetry before catching the romance writing bug. I bring that background to my writing along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas of psychiatric social services and many trips to Ireland, where I nurture my muse. My published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently I live in rural Pennsylvania with a “motley crew” of rescue animals. You can see my books at www.miriamnewman.com.

Follow Miriam’s Amazon Author Pagehttps://www.amazon.com/Miriam-Newman/e/B005DBFZUG

Get RESCUED in Kindle and Print at Amazonhttps://www.amazon.com/Rescued-Miriam-Newman-ebook/dp/B013ZX2JY8/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

At Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rescued-miriam-newman/1122533642

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave Miriam a comment.


Furbaby Friday with Author Cathie Dunn!

I am delighted to have my friend Cathie Dunn here to share her deep love of animals and her Scottish historical romance, Highland Arms.

Cathie: Thank you so much, Beth, for hosting me today as part of your wonderful Furbaby Friday series. I’ve been enjoying reading posts by other authors about their furbabies – both present and past – and, like some, I found it a little tricky to choose one of mine.

Ellie dog–griffon beagle cross

We currently have three cats and one dog: Tiger, our 13 ½ year old eccentric patriarch who is of Welsh origin, then lived in Scotland for a decade, and survived the long drive to the south of France where we now live; Ellie Dog, a still timid female griffon beagle cross we adopted just over a year ago; Charlie Young Cat, a Siamese girl who suddenly showed up near us, still too young, last spring, and who we took in shortly after; and Shadow Kitten – the last one of four kittens we found abandoned (by a person, as they were scrambling around next to an empty plastic bag in thick shrubs by the riverside). No worries, the three other kittens found good homes, but nobody wanted a black male boy, so he’s staying… ~sigh~ 😉

So, after some thoughts, I’ve decided to write about Ellie Dog today. We don’t know her age, but the vet guessed she was around seven years old when we adopted her in December 2015 from a local rescue. That was mainly because her teeth were pretty bad, but we think she’s a couple of years younger. She can bounce like a puppy when she’s excited, but also tires quickly during walks.

Ellie was very scared when we visited her first. She’d not been at the center for long, just over a week after being found wandering the streets of a village, but she already showed herself as the gentlest creature, looking after her even more scared kennel mate. We knew, from past experiences, that adopted pets arrive with baggage, and Ellie was no exception. She was scared of everything.

Ellie is highly intelligent, tolerates the cats (Tiger took his time in accepting her, but Charlie and Shadow LOVE her and love cuddling up with her), and learned the ropes very quickly. Well, as long as there are no real ropes involved! We guess she must’ve been beaten, and she has several scars on her legs which may stem from trying to jump fences. Or something we’d rather not know.

Over the months, we tried to allow her to walk without a lead, but after she followed her nose (and, boy, does that nose work!), she shot off across vineyards and scrubs in search of the source. She was in heaven, ears flying, running back and forth. One afternoon, hubby walked her when she ran off along a path and he lost sight of her. Worried, he kept calling her, only to find her in a fenced in compound with another dog, in the middle of nowhere. The local hunters keep dogs out there, so there was nobody about. She must’ve jumped the fence at high speed, and now couldn’t find her way out again, so hubby had to climb over (yes, trespassing!), and pick her up. He wasn’t impressed – and she was grounded!

A year down the line, Ellie is still scared of many things, such as leaves flying in the high wind, us picking up a blanket from the sofa, or the lead dangling in front of her, but she has come a long way. No longer does she run away when you accidentally drop the lead, and if she’s unsure of something, she now looks to us for reassurance. When we both walk her, she often stays between us, as she does in the mornings on our bed, when she rolls on her back, at her happiest. It’s wonderful to see her come so far, but we know there’s still some way to go.

Perhaps it’s best we don’t know what happened to her. That way, we can channel our energies into making the rest of her life the best it can be.

Ellie has her own Facebook page, so if you’d like to know more about her life, feel free to follow. We share posts there in three languages… 😉 https://www.facebook.com/mrselliedog/

Blurb for Highland Arms:

Exciting blend of danger and romance

“The author has a wonderful way of describing the highlands.” ~ Booked Up Reviews

Escape to the Highlands

Betrayed by her brother’s lies, Catriona MacKenzie is banished from her home to her godmother’s manor in the remote Scottish Highlands. While her family ponders her fate, Catriona’s insatiable curiosity leads her straight into trouble–and into the arms of a notorious Highlander.

Five years after an ill-fated Jacobite rebellion, Rory Cameron works as a smuggler to raise money for the cause–until Catriona uncovers a plot against him and exposes his activities. Now, Rory is faced with a decision that could either save their lives or destroy both of them.

But he’s running out of time…


One day, she had to return home—just not yet. Her father planned to find her a new suitor, someone willing to overlook her indiscretion. Pah!
Once he found such a paragon of society, he’d send for her. Most likely, the chosen suitor would be a rich man, but what else? Old, grizzled, and frail? Or young and arrogant, cast in the same mould as her brother? She liked neither option but then, it was not her decision to make. One thing was certain—love did not feature in her marriage contract.

What if her father let Angus have a say in it?
The notion froze her to the core, and she sat up. Despite her fondness of Edinburgh, and its array of entertainments, the longer she remained here in the Highlands the safer she was from such a fate. Perhaps she’d even be allowed to stay on as her godmother’s companion? Growing old without having to wed anyone. Remain a spinster for the rest of her days. It was not the most appealing option, but preferable to whomever Father or Angus might choose. Yes, she’d just have to convince Auntie Meg—and Rory Cameron—that she simply had to stay.

Her mind made up, she rose and wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders. As her bare feet touched the wooden floor, she hissed at the chill. With no maid to call upon, she left her room and went downstairs in search of the kitchen. The thought of a warming cup of tea raised her spirits. Then she’d continue to set her plan into motion.

She pushed the kitchen door open and stopped short. Standing by the mullioned window, in front of a large bowl overflowing with water, was Rory Cameron. He turned as he heard the door. Catriona caught her breath and grabbed the handle, letting go of the blanket.

Water dripped over his head and down his torso, trickling in small rivulets over his kilt held by a broad belt with a round silver buckle in a Pagan design of interlacing swirls. The light curls of hair on his tanned chest glistened with moisture. His shoulder-length hair was unbound, falling softly over taut muscle. A dry smile told her she was staring at him. Again.

She swallowed hard. “I…” She stuttered. “I’m so sorry, Mr Cameron.” She averted her gaze to her feet. “I was just going to heat up water for my tea. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The insufferable man laughed as he grabbed a piece of cloth and began to pat himself dry. “I don’t think you did.” He shook his head, sending strands flying before rubbing it vigorously. “And it’s Rory, remember?” He grinned. Catriona stood rooted to the spot. Words failed her. Her mouth went dry.

“But tell me,” he went on, “do you always venture into the kitchen so early? If so, you’d better get dressed next time.”

Transfixed by his mocking gaze, her cheeks heated as she became aware of her own state of undress. What an impression was she giving him, with her hair falling loosely over her shoulders, and the blanket only barely covering her modesty?

Oh, dear God, the blanket!

Highland Arms is in Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/Highland-Arms-Danger-Scottish-Highlands-ebook/dp/B01MYLCKHK

About Cathie Dunn:

Cathie Dunn writes historical romantic suspense.

Cathie has been writing for over 20 years. In 2008, she gained a certificate in Creative Writing from Lancaster University. Her focus was on novel writing, which she teaches in the south of France. She loves researching for her novels, delving into history books and visiting castles and historic sites.

At the moment, Cathie is working on a medieval Scottish romance, and a time-slip paranormal romance set in the Languedoc area in southern France, in the present time and the days of Charlemagne’s reign just prior to AD800.

Cathie’s stories have garnered praise from reviewers and readers for their authentic description of the past.

Follow her at www.cathiedunn.com!

Furbaby Friday With Author Katie O’Sullivan

I am pleased to have Katie O’Sullivan here to share her wonderful Saint Bernard and Contemporary Romance My Kind of Crazy, her first Wild Rose Press release.

Katie: Must Love Dogs… Big Dogs…

Beth: I’m laughing Katie because I have a big, medium, and small dog 🙂 And I loved reading about your big baby.

Back to Katie. Four-legged writing companions come in all shapes and sizes. For the last twenty years or so, mine all tend toward the larger side. Oversized, overgrown puppies who think they’re still lap dogs, who like to lie at my feet while I’m writing at the kitchen counter, or snuggled up behind my desk chair when I’m in the office.
Our current dogs are a Swiss Mountain dog mix, and a purebred Saint Bernard. Since our Saint was the runt of the litter, my husband assured me she wouldn’t get too big. We affectionately – and inappropriately – named her Midget. This is her when we first got her at two months:

Saint Bernards grow fast, as we quickly learned. Here she is at six months, with the same kitchen stool:

…And with the exact same stool on her first birthday:

Trust me, though. She’s an oversized baby most of the time, which is still totally true after seven years. Getting her into the vet’s office became a huge issue (no pun intended) and often required assistance from the vet techs or a kind soul in the parking lot to help drag her up the walkway. Her resistance ended abruptly for the six months we fostered a mini Dachshund named Zoe, who had no problem with the vet and told Midget she was being ridiculous.

We haven’t had the problem again, and it’s been a few years. Whatever Zoe said to her made an impression.
When she was a puppy, I’d often blog about the crazy things she did – and how much she enjoyed life at the beach.

People often wondered if I made the stories up. Nope. But they were good stories, and they eventually made their way into my fiction, with a rescue dog named Midget bringing together the two main characters in my novel MY KIND OF CRAZY, the first book I published with The Wild Rose Press. I love stories that incorporate animals into the story line, and was thrilled when the cover featured the puppy along with the couple. Midget doesn’t look as thrilled, but that’s mostly because she’s staring at my son who’s holding her supper dish.
About the Book: My Kind of Crazy
Kendall Roarke is betting everything on making her Harwichport Bed & Breakfast into the premier wedding destination on Cape Cod, despite her recent messy divorce.
Jonathan Reynolds moved back to the Cape to take over his uncle’s business and start fresh after his own marriage ended. He’s not looking for anything complicated – until he meets Kendall, with her big plans and wild mop of curls.
Throw an unruly foster puppy and an uptight new neighbor into the mix and things get a little crazy. Now Kendall has to decide if it’s the kind of crazy that she can live with… for the rest of her life.

Buy Links: AMAZON ~ Barnes & Noble ~ The Wild Rose Press

About the Author:
Katie O’Sullivan is an award-winning writer, whose ten novels include My Kind of Crazy, Ghosts Don’t Lie, Crazy About You, and the Son of a Mermaid series for teen readers: Descent, Defiance, and the forthcoming Deception (available December 15). A recovering English major, she earned her degree at Colgate University and now lives on Cape Cod with her family and big dogs, drinking way too much coffee and inventing new excuses not to dust.
Website ~ Blog ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon Author Page

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave Katie a comment.

Furbaby Friday with Author Barbara Edwards!

I’m very glad to welcome fellow Wild Rose Press Author Barbara Edwards to the blog to share her beloved dog, Dixie, and the holiday romance she was inspired to write entitled Dixie’s Gift.

(Dixie, a Belgian Malinois)

Barbara:  “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” ― Will Rogers

Dixie’s Gift, my Christmas novella, is based on memories of my Dixie who spent her days keeping me from becoming a hermit. She’d demand a walk. Taking me out of my house to enjoy the fresh air and get some exercise. She’d sleep on my feet, keeping them warm while I wrote.

We got Dixie from a retired teacher who fostered dogs waiting for a forever home. It was a serendipitous happening. My husband wanted a German Shepherd, but every time I got bitten it was by a shepherd so I said no. I was watching the Westminster Dog show and a beautiful dog called a Belgian Malinois was competing for best of show. They described the breed as being family oriented, energetic, and needing an owner who spent time with them. Since the breed looked similar to what my husband wanted, I checked with several breeders who said their females weren’t bred every season.

My husband and I were having coffee and I was flipping through the Penny Saver when I spotted the ad for adopting her. I called despite the fact we weren’t going to be home the following weekend. It was love at first sight. This beautiful dog had been discarded after a bitter divorce. She’d been kept in a dog cage all day every day. When we got home we didn’t know if she was housebroken and put her in a dog cage. I never heard such a horrible scream from a dog. She vomited and pooped and I let her out promising not to do it again.

We decided to take a chance and took her inside. She was housebroken, but wouldn’t answer to the name they provided. My son came over and started calling her by dog names until he laughingly called Dixie, a reference to our Civil War reenacting. She perked up and went to him so Dixie it was. Dixie loved re-enacting and went with us to events, she loved riding in the car, sleeping in the tent and watching the horses. Dixie went with us to Yellowstone.

I didn’t really think about my companion passing away and when she was diagnosed with cancer, it broke my heart. She was in terrible pain, but I didn’t want to let her go. It took me a week but I finally made the wrenching decision to send her over the rainbow bridge.

This story features the ghost of a dog who doesn’t want to leave her mistress alone and writing it helped me through those first lonely months. I still miss her. Dixie is buried in my flower garden next to our house.~

Beth: This is deeply touching, Barbara.

Blurb for Dixie’s Gift: Ellen Carter deeply grieves for her husband Dan, but at least she still has Dixie, her beloved Malinois. However, soon Dixie leaves her too. But the faithful dog cannot rest easy in heaven while her mistress is unhappy. Dixie pleads with the Archangel Michael to let her send help, and intercedes for Ellen in the only way she can. But will Ellen get the message, and more importantly, will she accept Dixie’s gift?

Sexy newcomer Michael Burke can barely take enough time from his successful restaurant for a decent night’s sleep, let alone romance. Still, he is intrigued by the beautiful widow and can’t resist entering her shop. Sparks fly, and when Ellen has an accident in a snowstorm, he comes to her rescue. Trapped by a blizzard and aided by Dixie’s Gift, Ellen and Michael find more than shelter–they find love.

Cover artist: Debbie Taylor

Story Excerpt:

He brushed a wisp of her hair from her cheek. It clung like spider silk to his fingers.

He rubbed the strand and his heart raced. When her lips parted, he bent forward to taste their soft curve.

Sweet, so sweet, he thought as her mouth melded with his. His hands slowly slid from her slender shoulders to her waist. Soft as a feather, she sighed. Her curves fit against his hard chest like matching puzzle pieces.

The lights blinked, dimmed, and then flared back on.~

 Reader Comments:

Dixie’s Gift tugs at your heart, and though the snow threatens, you can’t help but be warmed by this sweet story. A must read! — Kara O’Neal, Author

“Dog lovers, do not read this book . . . without a box of tissues nearby. A touching story of love and compassion.” – Diane Burton, author of the Outer Rim series.

“Delightful…Barbara Edwards weaves a heartwarming holiday tale of rediscovering love after the death of a spouse and the loss of a beloved pet. It’s a refreshing story with a theme of joy and peace and filled with engaging characters. And who can resist a romantic winter setting with lots and lots of snow?” ~ Judy Ann Davis, Author and Educator

Dixie’s Gift by Barbara Edwards is a gift of a read. Sweet, romantic, poignant, and touching, it will bring a lump to your throat and satisfaction to your heart. If you don’t shed a tear, you’re a robot.” ~ Award winning author Alicia Dean

***Purchase Dixie’s Gift from The Wild Rose Press: https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/3671-dixie-s-gift.html?search_query=Dixie%27s+Gift&results=1

In Kindle at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dixies-Gift-Barbara-Edwards-ebook/dp/B017OJGVIY/

From Barbara: Please follow, friend, or like me. I love to hear from my readers.

Blog http://barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com/

Website http://barbaraedwards.net

Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/BarbaraEdwards.Author

Twitter  https://www.twitter.com/Barb_ed

Amazon Author’s Page http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003F6ZK1A

GoodReads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/496095.Barbara_Edwards

Thanks for stopping by. Please leave Barbara a comment!

Furbaby Friday with Author Dee Gatrell

I am happy to welcome fellow Wild Rose Press author, Dee Gatrell, to Furbaby Friday to share her wonderful dogs and humorous romantic fiction novel, Sweet Sunset.
Dee: Icarus was a 12-year-old, schnauzer. We had him since he was 6 months old from a breeder going out of business. He was an alpha male, and had the eyes that drew  you in. He got along with dogs outside, but wasn’t crazy about them being in the house. After they were here a while he adjusted and just belly growled.
My one daughter had a deaf white boxer. It ticked him off because the dog couldn’t hear him, but sometimes she could feel his growl and get nasty back. Then when that dog died, daughter got a pitbull she named Fireball. Icarus would sit on my husband’s lap doing his Elvis imitation of the lip curl. Fireball laid on the floor in front of them. When Icarus would growl, she’d pick up her head, and toss it back and forth with a big grin. Ticked him off that the pitbull didn’t get angry at him.
A month or so ago we noticed Icarus  had days when he didn’t feel good, but by afternoon he was better. The day came when we noticed him shivering and he pooped black. And two days later he couldn’t get up. Alarmed, I called the vet, and we took him in. She said she expected it to be Zeus, not Icarus. She did x-rays and blood work. His spine had deteriorated and his blood work was off. She said  he was in pain. We made the heartbreaking decision to put him down. We held him and kissed him goodbye. Our vet cried with me. My husband saved his tears until he was home and we didn’t see him.
My husband has cancer, and Icarus was a comfort dog, sitting and sleeping on his lap or stomach. We had him cremated and have his ashes on the bookshelf in a pretty box. My husband admits to talking to him at times, or saying a prayer over him.
 (Zeus and Icarus)
We know Zeus won’t be with us for long. He falls a lot and isn’t eating as well. But he’s still our sweet boy.
I recently decided to get another dog, a rescue. I applied for a dog named JoJo from a rescue shelter. I didn’t really think I’d get him as he had a lot of applications wanting him. He was at a shelter about 40 miles from us. He’s a Maltese and only 10 lbs.
I said I wanted a dog between 1 and 3 years old. They say he’s four. He was found on the street. He has no voice, just makes little noises, and thinks he’s barking at our rescue lab mix. And he has issues with food. They said he was starving when they got him, so now he has anger issue when he sees other dogs with food. We’re working on that, too. But he is sweet. Zeus is nice to him, and that’s good. Poor guy falls down in the house on tile floor, but  he can run in the yard.


Zeus takes long naps these days. He likes to be with me in the office sleeping on the pillow beside me, where Icarus used to lay, or Ellie. They have lots of pillows, but always want the same ones.
The first two days Icarus was gone, Zeus wouldn’t sleep in the bedroom. I’d find him in the kitchen sleeping on the rug in front of the refrigerator. Now he’s back to the bedroom at night, but not on Icarus’s pillow.

Zeus usually has a happy face. Well, except for this time when he got groomed. I don’t think he was happy with the results. Generally, when I go to pick him up from the vets he’s happy to see me. I swear he snubbed me. At home, it took him a while to warm up to me. OK so he reminds me of my dear Aunt Mildred with the round body and skinny legs. Shhh, if she’s listening from above, she won’t like that description.

(Zeus after his haircut)

When I wrote Sweet Sunset the editor kept saying I had too many folks whose name started with whatever letter. So I changed the main man in the story over and over. Finally I named him Zack. Hey, no one else’s name started with a Z. Then I realized I had Zeus in the story. I decided no one would mix up the man and the dog.

Beth: I love hearing about your dogs, Dee. They are such characters. I’m very sorry about your loss of Icarus. Sweet Sunset sounds great.

Blurb for Sweet Sunset: Myrtle Sue Henderson, widowed, didn’t count on her mother-in-law moving in with her when her husband passed over. But Myrtle Sue’s loopy in-law troubles aren’t her only family baggage-she’s ailed with three adult children who use her like a pair of Depends. With a daughter and two grandchildren attempting to escape an abusive husband, a second daughter who is pregnant with twins, and a son who refuses to grow up, she’s at her wits end.

Myrtle Sue didn’t figure she’d ever meet another man she’d care for, until she went to church to get away from her troubles, only to find more when her mother-in-law causes chaos and hits an elderly man with her cane and helps herself to money out of the collection plate. That’s how she meets Zack. She figures once he meets her dysfunctional family, he’ll run as fast as he can-away from them.

Favorite passage from book:

June finished her food, and pushed her plate away. She gave Hazel a look of pity. “Ya know somethin’, Hazel? You’re full of shit.”

“Huh! You’re just jealous.”

Norma had been pretty quiet, when suddenly it was like she became possessed. Her hands began shaking and her drink sloshed onto the table. She leaned on the table and hissed at Hazel. “Evil, evil! You are soooo evil!”

“Who you calling evil?” Hazel said.

“You are eeeeeevvilllllll!”

“Mother, hush!”

I glanced at Lynn. She glared at her mother. I thought for a minute she was going to stuff her napkin into her mother’s mouth.

Something about my book:

There was a day when I thought only my relatives were dysfunctional, until later when I realized most of us have dysfunctional families. After many years of listening to people talk about their families, Sweet Sunset was born.

I was asked to move my mother from a senior apartment complex. They feared she would burn the place down. She caught her food on fire, exploded cans in the microwave and her doctor suggested I put her into an assisted living facility.

As I grew older, I took a closer look at my own children and friends. Presley was married to a man who broke her eye socket, Sonja is kind and an enabler, Terry looks for love in all the wrong faces. Hmm. Yep, I realized we all have dysfunctional families.

My mom wasn’t Hazel, but she did and said a lot of what Hazel says, like talking about her dead father and how he visited her. How she broke handles off glass cups. To this day none of us can figure out how she did it. June did tell us about her neighbor’s cheap jewelry party and the pole. She was funny.

All writers know we only need to look around us and we’ll find stories everywhere.

I do hope you enjoy Myrtle Sue and her family and friends. Come sit a spell and eat some of the good food they imbibe in.

***Get Sweet Sunset in Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/Sweet-Sunset-Dee-Gatrell-ebook/dp/B01M3QJT75

Twitter: Twitter@deegat41

Blog link: http://deesnews.blogspot.com/

Website link: http://dgatrell.wix.com/author

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave Dee a comment.