WELCOME MAY!

By Caroline Clemmons

Welcome, May! This is one of the months I especially enjoy—it’s not yet too hot to be outside and it’s no longer too cold. Lawns are green and flowers are in bloom everywhere. If you saw the production of the musical Camelot, you heard the song I love about May. That song gets stuck in my head for a few days around this time of year. I wish I could remember more than the first two lines.

It's May, it's May in Camelot

My family and I love attending musical theater and watching movie musicals. At least, some of them. We’ve been watching a slew of musicals lately. The latest was Guys and Dolls, but the others include Flower Drum Song (we are great fans of the late Jack Soo), My Fair Lady (we adore Julie Andrews), Annie—in which Carol Burnett is a deliciously heartless villainess, Some Like it Hot, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, The Music Man (one of our favorites), and Bye Bye Birdie (Ann Margaret has remained beautiful even after all the years that have passed).

L'il Abner, a movie we have NOT

been able to locate for rental.

That’s not all we watch, but we prefer streaming movies to watching most others with commercials. Of course, we do watch new movies and new and syndicated series shows like Vera, Will Trent, Midsommer Murders, Murdoch Mysteries, Agatha Christie movies, Alfred Hitchcock movies, Morse, Dateline, and Lewis. Lately, we’re especially interested in classics that our daughter has not yet seen or she saw when she was too young to remember them. She chooses most of them, borrowing many from the library. We enjoy seeing these again and always find something new in each viewing. An example is The Godfather, phrases of which have become part of modern vernacular: Go to the mattresses, a deal you can't refuse, etc. (As with so many movies made from books, you miss so much of the story if you haven't read the book.)

                                 

An ordinary day, but I

wear glasses, drink tea or 

Dr Pepper, and don't 

wear pearls at home

I don’t mean to imply that all we do is watch television. Most of the time each of us is busy with his or her projects. Since we combined households with our daughter, we find it pleasant to spend time together and watch television while we have a small snack and soft drink or iced herbal tea. The pets join us for a cozy evening. That is, it’s soothing for Hero and me. I’ll be taking time from writing, Hero from doing projects and chores around the house that aren’t prohibited by his Parkinson’s.

On the other hand, if Darling Daughter 2 is home and can join us, she's up and down and up and down caring for pets (and parents). Our dog chases her cat because he wants to play tag but the cat doesn't. Her dog chases my cat when the cat is frightened by his attention and hisses at him. Same cat, Sebastian, doesn’t want any other pets to drink from his water dish. Ad nauseum.

Baxter, looking like an 

innocent labradoodle. Sure.

He is sweet, but full of 

energy and mischief.

Although we sprinkle in action adventures and mysteries, we try to select movies or series which are uplifting. Don’t think we’re avoiding reality. They’ll have heard the evening news before beginning the movie or series, and life brings a dose of reality. A cheerful distraction is always welcome. 

Covid zapped a lot of us

in a variety of ways.

Before Covid zapped me and left me with parting gifts that affected my breathing and eyesight and energy, I would spend a few hours writing after our television time. Now, I talk to Darling Daughter 2 a bit and then toddle off to bed with Hero, our labradoodle, and grumpy cat. 

Sebastian, age 16

Please understand I’m not complaining. Our sweet and very talented Sherri Easley lost her son to Covid.  Joan Reeves' daughter fought it. I’m grateful to be alive and able to enjoy this lovely time of year! 

.

Old Friends by Bea Tifton

I'm filling in for my friend Beth Trissel today. 

When I was a little girl, we sang a song that went, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold. “

I have many friendly acquaintances, but I’m lucky enough to have some close ones.  One of the nicest things about having close friends that have been friends for several years is that we learn each other’s idiosyncrasies, and they become one of the reason we love them.  I have a friend who is rather eccentric. During the Pandemic, I got a Christmas card from her, a photo card featuring her holding her cherished fur baby. And they both had matching lipstick.

I have a dear friend who hates traffic circles. Haaaattteeesss them. I love them, and the smaller roundabouts designed to slow down traffic, too. It’s understood that if we’re going to have a girl’s day at the antique mall off of a major traffic circle, I will drive. She’ll be gritting her teeth while I’m yelling, “Wheeeeeee!”

Another friend is extremely interested in the Titanic. I was wandering around FB a few days ago and saw a post with some great factoids and photos of the doomed ship before it sailed. I promptly sent the post to her. It made me think about the fact that I have friends who have been friends long enough that we know those little things about one another. And remember them.

Which brings me to my point. Finally, right?  It’s that the treasure we have in old friends is that we really know each other, we share a past, times we laughed and times we cried.  I know about special interests or hobbies, and when I encounter something that reminds me of that person, it’s like I’m carrying that person with me.  And at times, I’ve taken photos or purchased something for someone and sent it to them, which lets that friend know I thought about them and that I care.  And my friends reciprocate. No matter how busy we are, we manage to at least send a text just checking in with each other.  And when we do reconnect, it’s like we’ve never been apart.

 

If you have friends like these, treasure those friendships. They’re pure gold. 

Photo Credits from Pexels
Abgreat Ann "Portrait of Woman Hugging Shiba Inu Dog"
cottonbro studio "Woman Wearing a Headscarf in a Convertible Car"
Aline Viana Prado "Woman Wearing Black Sunglasses"

cottonbro studio "Person Holding White Picture Frame"

The Dogs Are The Best Part by Laura Hunsaker

 My next novel Dangerous Past is coming out soon, and one of the things I have in this book is dogs. I don't typically have animals in my stories because there is so much action, I don't think it's practical to have pets. I can't have them leave the pets in the car, we can't just pretend they're okay, and ignore their existence except for when it's convenient, so what do we do with them?

In my case, they are the meet cute. They are cared for, they are included, and the silly dogs get dirty and slobbery, and behave like actual dogs. I really thought long and hard about how to handle the dogs in a Romantic Suspense novel. I wanted to make sure the reader never has a moment to say, "Wait, how is she doing that? I thought she had dogs with her?" I wanted it authentic, and I wanted it to really work.

And I did it. My editor thinks it's my best book yet, and the early reviews are incredible! I don't want to say it was the dogs, but I'm not not saying it was the dogs ;)

I drew from real life for the meet cute. My lovely dog Lily tore her CrCL chasing rabbits one day and my hunky husband had to carry her home. For reference, my dogs are both close to 120lbs, so that's no easy feat. He had to carry Lily, and keep Conan from trying to "help" Lily. This was easily for about a mile. (Spoiler: Lily has a new knee and she's now 14 years old and going strong)

Here are my dogs, on our trail, Lily is closest:

In Dangerous Past, I had the heroine out for a potty break with her dogs as she drives cross-country with them. Her dog hurts her knee, but luckily she won't have to carry her alone! Several very buff looking men are near the trail she's on! And of course one of them is her true love...they just don't know it yet. One thing I really wanted was the dogs to be represented on the cover. What do you think? I love it!

She’s running from her past…


Lark Seawell is the daughter of a serial killer. His reputation has long been a shadow looming over her since his arrest when she was a child. Especially since she’s the one who called the police. She has spent her entire life trying to live as anonymously and quietly as possible. She is not her father’s legacy.

He wants to be her future...

FBI agent Jay Sutherland is visiting a friend in a small mountain town when free spirit Lark asks for help with her injured dog. He is instantly enamored with her, and their one night stand stays with him far into the next morning, though Lark is long gone. When his partner realizes that she is the daughter of The Highwayman, Jay refuses to believe Lark is anything like her father.

What happens when she stops running…

When a trail of dead bodies follows Lark on her cross-country drive, the FBI believes she’s the killer. How can the sweet woman who rescues injured animals and makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in years be a murderer? The bodies don’t lie. Jay knows there’s more at play. If he’s wrong, and Lark is as much a monster as her father, he may be the next target…

Sunshiney heroine, gruff hero, one night stand leads to more.

FIDDLING WITH FIDDLEHEADS

                                                by Judy Ann Davis

                     "Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.”
                                         --Bishop Reginald Heber

I’m a fan of flowers and ferns.

But to be honest, I find ferns fascinating. There is something delicate and eye-catching about these ornamental plants. Every April, fiddleheads start popping through the spring earth. I can almost see them growing before my eyes as they emerge from the flowerbeds around our house. 

I also purchase five pots of ferns every year to hang from hooks around the perimeter of our covered patio to brighten the area and make it cozy and relaxing. It has become a summer ritual as soon as we drag out the outdoor patio furniture from winter storage.

Ferns are a native plant of Pennsylvania which means they occurred in this region before settlement by Europeans. They are part of a group of species of vascular plants which reproduce via spores and have neither seeds nor flowers, only stems and leaves.

It’s believed the first ferns appeared in fossil records 360 million years ago in the Devonian period, but many of the current species didn’t appear until roughly 145 million years ago in the early Cretaceous period, after flowering plants came to dominate many environments. Throughout history, ferns have been popular in medicine, art, mythology, landscaping, flower design, human consumption, and more.

When the first frost alarm sounds in our area, I’ve tried to bring the now huge, lofty-looking plants into the house to keep over winter. I’m not afraid to admit I’m a failure. The plants don’t adapt to—or just don’t like—the climate in our house.  So, I learned to be content with just enjoying them spring, summer, and fall.

I’m highlighting an older book this month. Key to Love is full of humor, sibling relationships, romance, suspense, and even features a restored Bandit Trans Am, an animal-cracker-eating little boy, and a sweet Dalmatian.

BLURB:

When architect Elise Springer's father is injured, she immediately leaves San Francisco to care for him. The last person she expects to encounter in her Pennsylvania hometown is her childhood friend Lucas Fisher. Lucas is investigating his brother's mysterious death, and Elise can't resist lending a hand.

Lucas longs for the close family ties he never had. He's back in Scranton to set up a classic car restoration business and build a future. The torch he carries for Elise burns brighter than ever, but before he can declare his love, he must obtain the legal rights to adopt his nephew--and prove his brother's death was no accident.

As they unearth clues to find the murderer and a missing stash of money, Elise faces a dilemma. Is her career on the West Coast the key to her happiness, or is it an animal-cracker-eating four-year-old and his handsome uncle instead? 

KEY TO LOVE

Ranch Life is not all glamour!

 Ranch Life is not all glamour!

****Turn back now if you find birth gruesome.****

*******************************************

Pads pointing down are a good sign.

Pads pointing up means the calf is breech and you are going to need chains and pullers.

These pads are pointing up.

ALL HANDS ON DECK!

Breech births have a low survival rate for both mother and calf.

You need to place a half-hitch above the hocks on each hind leg with your chain.

The poll strapped over her tail is a puller. It has a hand-cranked wench on the other end that the chains hook into.

Once the calf is out, you need to clear his lungs. A breech birth will push the amniotic fluid into the calf's lungs.

If it is not removed the calf will drown.

Now, just stand back and let mamma do the rest.

As well that ends well.

Every Stepping Stone @LizFlaherty

When one's mind is blank and one has a blog post due, she digs back into the deep and distant past and...okay, I went back four years. Things have changed since I wrote it; Nan and her husband live in a wonderful new house. However, most everything else still works, including the fact that the only contract I have right now is one for this year's Christmas Town novella (which I'm having so much fun writing!) I hope you don't mind reading this again. 

Sometimes the goofiest things will give you something to start with. My friend Nan Reinhardt and her husband are selling the house they've lived in for 35 years. The whole process has been...interesting. In the same way having a colonoscopy is interesting. So, anyway, we were talking this morning, and one more obstacle is out of the path. I said something about "big sigh," as in relief, and she said it was too soon for that. I said--get prepared for something profound here; it doesn't happen to me very often-- "Every stepping stone deserves its own sigh."

When it comes to books, I don't write fast--ever--anymore. Yesterday I had 600 words and called it good. A few days back, I think I had 26. Occasionally I'll get five-to-seven pages in a day and just burst with pride in myself. As someone who used to have 50-page weekends when I worked full time at the day job, this slowing down was hard to accept. I have wondered (and whined about) if it's time to put my novelist shingle in mothballs and stick to my beloved blog. 

Like all stepping stones, the ones in a writing career are hard and have a lot of distance between them. They have sharp corners, slick spots, and you stand a good chance of tumbling off into the water when you're only halfway across.

So you stick on Band-Aids, you take care on the slick spots, and you climb back out of the water and keep on walking. You're careful on your journey for a while then. You might try writing to market, to trends, to make your lyrics match the tunes of certain publishers. You skip around between sub-genres, although your heart usually leads you back to the one it lays the greatest claim to. You obsess over covers. Over reviews. Over promotion, promotion, promotion.

But then the day comes when you start that wondering-and-whining thing I mentioned up there. You've written 26 words in too many hours and they're not even particularly good ones. If, like me, you're a person who's always been proud of being productive, it's excruciating to realize that sometimes you're just...not.

I still wonder if it's time, but with the wondering comes a realization.

The thought of not writing books anymore makes me unhappy.

So I've given up being careful on the steps, no longer worried about splashes or sharp edges. Someone doesn't like protagonists in their 40s? Too bad for them. I'm not crazy about my cover? It's okay--I'll like the next one. People are tired of small-town stories? I'm not. My writing's too erotic, too sweet, my prose too purple or too terse, my POV stiffly pure or a little sloppy? Get over it and find another author, but thanks for trying one of my books.

Of course, there's a gasper, too, even in the middle of my hear-me-roar treatise on freedom: Other than a Christmas Town novella, I don't have a contract right this minute and I'm a mostly-trad author who doesn't care to go mostly-indie. I'm afraid I'll never publish another book. However, if I'm honest about it, it's exactly like when I get to that spot in the middle of a manuscript where I know I'll never be able to finish the book. It happens every time.

More stones in the path. Occasionally, I think I can see the other side, but I'll never get there. There are a bunch of old sayings about journeys and destinations, but we all know writing is all journey. We know that, while finishing the books and having them published are wonderful things, it's the writing that counts. It's what makes us happy. One stone, one step, one sigh at a time.

***

Still reeling from her divorce, Joss Murphy flees to Banjo Bend, Kentucky, where she'd been safe and happy as a child. The family farm is now a campground. Weary and discouraged, she talks owner Ezra McIntire into renting her a not-quite-ready cabin.

With PTSD keeping him company, Ez thrives on the seclusion of the campground. The redhead in Cabin Three adds suggestions to his improvement plans, urging color and vibrancy where there was none.

Neither is looking for love, yet the attraction they share is undeniable. Can the comfort of campfires, hayrides, and sweet kisses bring these two lost souls together?

Buy links:

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/2s3rcznk

                

Barnes & Noble: https://tinyurl.com/yc7xyprw

Wedding Season by Joan Reeves #SmartGirlsReadRomance

Beyond the beautiful dress, the handsome hunk in the tuxedo, and a party to end all parties, do you think marriage itself is a thing of the past?

In today's world where couples live together and often have children without marriage, getting married seems to have become, well, the ultimate commitment.

For some people, it takes a lot to get to that altar. For others, they're ready the minute their eyes lock across a crowded room.

YOU'RE CORDIALLY INVITED

Once the proporsal is made and accepted, it's time to plan the wedding. This requires intelligence gathering similar to planning the D-Day invasion. All kidding aside, whether a splashy gala celebration with hundreds of guests or a smaller friends and family event, the wedding is a public announcement that the couple belong to each other.

It wasn't always like this. Ancient history tells us that marriage was first a private, domestic affair. According to Curious Customs of Sex and Marriage by George Ryley Scott (which you might find at used book stores), the basic function of marriage was to multiply and replenish the earth. Marriages were simply a way of regulating procreation.

WHAT? NO VOLUNTEERS FOR MARRIAGE?

It may come as no surprise, to women at least, that men in many cultures weren't inclined to sign on for the concept of marriage. 

Perhaps that explains why so many nations (remember, just about all society was patriarchal) experimented with Polygyny.

I'm pretty sure men signed up quickly for that form of plural marriage in which they were multiple wives.

But waitt, women had their own version of plural marriage with Polyandry, a form of polygamy that allowed a woman to take two or more husbands at the same time.

MONOGAMY WINS OUT

Eventually, in most civilized nations of the world, monogamy, marriage with only one spouse, was accepted almost universally—at least in theory. Perfect or not, monogamy was probably what kept the world rocking along for a couple of millennia—dragging all of the customs and superstitions created along the way into our modern world.

MARRIAGE CUSTOMS

Of all of the ancient marriage customs that have, in some way, made their way into the contemporary world, one is also a very popular romance genre. That would be Marriage of Convenience. Yes, these really do take place, and most romance authors have written books with that trope.

APRIL FOOL BRIDE

Since it's April, it's the perfect time to tell you about one of my novels that uses the Marriage of Convenience theme.

Oil heiress Madeline Quinn needs a husband by the time she turns twenty-five in order to claim her full inheritance.

Mad Maddie, as the tabloids christened her, learned the hard way that men only see dollar signs when they look at her.

Maddie decides a marriage of convenience is the only answer. She turns to the one man in the world she can trust, her housekeeper’s son who always treated her like a little sister when they were growing up—until one disastrous night when she acted impetuously.

Jake Becker hasn’t seen Maddie since the night she tried to seduce him. Why should he help the woman who changed the course of his life? Simple. Revenge.

Or is it something else? Something that sizzles like steam heat between Maddie and Jake that neither can resist!?

APRIL FOOL BRIDE is a free read in Kindle Unlimited in case you're a subscriber. Otherwise, it's only $2.99.

WEDDING SEASON

Spring is the time when love seems to make itself known. That means weddings will be coming up in a couple of months! Yum. Wedding cake—my favorite.

Joan Reeves participates in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a way for websites to earn advertising fees by linking to products on Amazon.

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