Lizzi Tremayne's Blog, page 8

My WIP Wednesday: Sofia’s Images

My WIP Wednesday is preparing the collateral information for my Bluestocking Belles‘ novella that's in its third and fourth beta read with other Belles right now!

It's shaping up well. This novella will be released in the Bluestocking Belles' Holiday Boxed set and six months later, I'm hoping to release the full novel. Can't wait to let it grow again!

Today I've been working on blurbs, taglines, tweets, you name it. So tonight, I get to do the fun part: images of my hero and heroine!  It's a little tricky, because most of the images of the time are of the upper crust of society, those who could afford to feed and house, as well as pay, a painter while he lived-in and painted over several days' time.

But I've found some. Sofia is a lovely and soft Highland girl in 1814. She's a peasant, so the silk and ruffle-laden ladies of the time… just won't do. She goes into service, so there are some images for that as well. These are the closest I could come to what is in my mind.

What do you think? Please let me know in the comments below!

 

 

What do you think? Please let me know in the comments below!

Bye for now!

xx

Lizzi

 

 

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#SixSentenceSunday: A Long Trail Rolling

Today's #SixSentenceSunday offering is from A Long Trail Rolling, the first in The Long Trails series of horsey historical fiction by an equine vet turned writer.

 

Smart. Her lips curved in the hint of a wry grin.

The Indians had placed themselves between the trail and the setting sun. Aleksandra couldn't see her attackers in the glimpses she stole, from beneath Scout's neck, of the world whizzing past. With the ground only three feet from her head, the scent of sage filled her nostrils when Scout crashed through a clump of brush. Briefly considering letting go of one of her death-grip holds onto the racing horse to pull a gun from her holster, something akin to suicide, she tightened her lip in a grimace and stayed put, trusting far more in the Palouse's speed and handiness to save them.

 

Book 1 of The Long Trails series

About the story:

She didn't expect to become a target…but she is one now.

Aleksandra is alone and running to prevent her father’s killer from discovering their family secret. Disguised as a Pony Express rider in 1860’s Utah, Aleksandra winds up in even deeper trouble when she rides full speed into the Paiute Indian War. With Xavier, her compelling Californio boss, can she escape the Indians on the warpath and evade the man who's already killed her father—and set his sights on her?

Find it here

See the rest of the series here

Thanks for coming by #SixSentenceSunday! Stay awhile and take a look around the site!

See you next week!

xx

Lizzi Tremayne

#SixSentenceSunday

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A Peek Back in Time: The Great Flood of Sacramento

The Great Flood: a peek back in time to Sacramento, California from the end of 1861 through the beginning of 1862 heralded some big changes for the state.

The biggest flood in recorded history of California, Oregon, and Nevada started in December 1861 and ran through January 1862.

In November 1961, the big rains started-nonstop-with heavy snowfalls in the Sierra Nevada range and they continued into January 1862. No one could remember that much water falling.

Unfortunately, from January 9-12, warm rains fell, which melted the snow… and the result was disastrous. Catastrophic floods.  The image shows the areas flooded throughout California, but the floods extended from the Columbia River in Oregon through California to San Diego, and inland to Idaho in the then Washington Territory, and Utah and what is now Nevada (then both part of Utah Territory), and what is now Arizona (then western New Mexico Territory).

Hypothetical Map of future flood: ArkStorm
image credit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_F...

Towns were swept away, valleys inundated, mills, dams, flues, houses, domestic animals and people. The land was never the same. California had been mostly owned by the holders of the old Mexican land grants, the Californios, who ran cattle and horses on the semi-arid state, and cropped the extensive lands.  Losses within the state ranged from 100,000 sheep and 500,000 lambs; 200,000 head or so of cattle, a quarter of their previous number; one home in eight; and an awful lot of mining equipment–sluices, flumes, derricks, etc. . About a quarter of the taxable real estate in the state was destroyed.  The state nearly had to declare bankruptcy.

New Governor of California, Leland Stanford, went to his inauguration in a boat…through the streets of Sacramento!

There's a lot about it online, but you might want to read about it in The Hills of Gold Unchanging… to feel what it was like living through it, as Aleksandra and Xavier did when they left Virginia City in 1862!

The Hills of Gold Unchanging

No one will stand in their way—and live.

As the Civil War rages, secessionists menace California. Aleksandra and Xavier are trying to get back home—through the oncoming Civil War, the mining camps of 1860's Nevada and California, and the Sacramento floods—to Xavier's Californio Rancho de las Pulgas. Embroiled in the Confederate's fight to drag the new state from the Union and make it their own, can Aleks and Xavier survive? The secessionists mean business.

 

Find it here

Amazon

Thanks for reading about the Great Flood!

Have you ever heard about the Great Flood of Sacramento? I grew up in California and lived right where the flood happened… and I'd never even heard about it. How about you?  Let me know in the comments below!~

 

 

The post A Peek Back in Time: The Great Flood of Sacramento appeared first on Lizzi Tremayne Author.

WIP Wednesday: Somewhere Called Home Prologue

This week my WIP is my VERY SHORT novella (can you hear me screaming from here?) for the Bluestocking Belles’ Christmas Boxed set. I'm editing my contribution, entitled Somewhere Called Home.

Actually, I'd appreciate your help! I’m thinking of calling this novella Somewhere Like Home and the full novel later will be called Somewhere Called Home.  What do you ladies all think? From a reader standpoint?  They will be VERY different.

photo credit to: https://bit.ly/2K5Dcid

Choices:

a) Call both Somewhere Called Home

b) Call Novella Somewhere Like Home and Novel Somewhere Called Home

c) Doesn’t matter.

Please indicate your choice in the comments below!

Thanks very much!

 

Here's a WIP excerpt!

Setting: Here’s the prologue for Somewhere Called Home… which won’t be in the novella, as it was too long….. so enjoy it now! It will, however, be in the full length novel, to be released six months after the Belles' novella boxed set comes out!

 

1807  Whitsun, Lairg Parish, Scotland

The young boy tapped the side of his shaggy highland pony with his leg, moving her closer to his father’s bigger horse and tucked his plaid closer around his neck to keep out some of the early morning mist. He stared down from the hillock above the baile at the straggling group of heavily laden men and women, encumbered with ragged, crying bairns, walking along the dirt track leading from the cluster of blackhouses. He’d never seen so many people in one place before. The families were nearly all walking, some limping as they went, older men and women supported by the shoulders of others of younger years. A lad rode in a hay wagon behind a single pony, its bed loaded high with roof timbers and a few pieces of furniture.

“Where are they going, Da?”

“To the coast.”

“Why would they want to do that, Da? There was nothing out there when we went to collect rents, just rocks and gulls.”

The lad’s father, his face pale beneath the tan, took a deep breath as he shook his head. “Ye’r right, lad. There’s naught out there. Their laird wants the land fer sheep, though the good lord knows the woolies'll never be able to defend our lands like the clansmen do now.”

“But—” the lad began again.

“Naught we can do fer it, let’s get back home and just pray it doesn’t happen there.” He wheeled his mount and turned back the way they’d come.

 

Hope you enjoyed this little bit of my WIP.

And if you've read A Long Trail Rolling, the boy is someone in the story.

Who do you think it is?

Please comment about who you think this is, along with your preferences listed above for the book and novella titles!

xx

Talk soon,

Lizzi

 

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Regan Walker, Historical Romance Reviewer, on A Long Trail Rolling

A Long Trail Rolling is the featured review today by Regan Walker on her website today!

Regan shares her 4 and 5-star reviews on her HISTORICAL ROMANCE REVIEW with Regan Walker page!

Come on by and take a look!

 

A Long Trail Rolling

A Long Trail Rolling is the first book in The Long Trail series of Historical Fiction novels by Lizzi Tremayne.

 

 

 

See the review here! 

 

The post Regan Walker, Historical Romance Reviewer, on A Long Trail Rolling appeared first on Lizzi Tremayne Author.

Summer Romance on Main Street Boxed Set: Preorder Now!

Summer Romance on Main Street available for preorder now!

I’m excited to announce the upcoming release of volume 1 of Summer Romance on Main Street, with my novella Once Upon A Vet School #6: Fifty Miles at a Breath as one of six stories of summertime love! It'll be released on 15 June! USD 99c is terrific value for more than 150,000 words, so grab it now. Click on my novella title or for buy links and my blurb, or read on for an excerpt.

Here's a summer romance excerpt!
WARNING: HORSEY!

We were about to pack up and head for the third vet check when Jared, one of the other P & R team members, tapped me on the shoulder.

Once Upon a Vet School 6: Fifty Miles now in AoMS Summer Romance on Main Street Boxed Set.

“Lena,” he said, as I looked up, “number 79 is due to come back to be checked and hasn’t shown. Should I send someone to look for them?”

“Yes, thanks.” I turned back to the horse I’d just clamped a stethoscope on. “60/18”, I reported. Kim noted it down as I thanked the rider while checking the skin turgor and refill, then wished her well with a wave.

“I found number 79,” Jared said, beside my ear. “I think you need to check him. He doesn’t look so good and his rider says his pulse isn’t coming down.”

“Okay, Jared. Can you take over here please?” I waved goodbye to him and Kim, throwing back over my shoulder, “there aren’t any vets at this check anymore, are there?”

Jared shook his head with a grimace. “Doc Latimer had to go on, but he said to find you if there were any horses needing to be checked.”

“I’ll go see the horse. Call if you need me.” I pulled out my radio. “Vet Three to Vet One, come in Vet One.”

“Vet One,” Dr. Latimer’s voice crackled over the speaker. “What’ve you got?”

I told him.

“Okay, let me know. I’m ten minutes away, out.”

“Out.”

The bay Morgan gelding drooped, his head hanging low, and he didn’t even glance up as I approached. His eyes were dull and incurious, as if he didn’t care what was happening around him.

I introduced myself to the middle-aged female rider. “How has he been going?”

“He was fine until an hour ago, then he seemed tired all of a sudden.”

“Are you his rider?”

“Yes.” Shortly.

Photo Credit to Hughes Photography

“Has he done this before? In your training rides?”

“Ummm… haven’t had much time to trail him lately,” she said, her eyes everywhere but my face.

I gulped and tried to unclench my jaws. Unfit and still racing, on a 104-degree day? I forced myself to stay calm.

“Is he drinking? Eating?” I looked around the area to see an untouched hay net and no water bucket in sight.

She stared at me. “What is this, 20 Questions?

‘’I’m trying to ascertain the condition of your horse,” I placed the stethoscope on the horse’s chest and shut my eyes, “and anything you can tell me would help.”

“You’re a vet?”

“Vet student.”

“Get away from my horse,” she squeaked.

I blinked and stepped back. “Dr. Latimer asked me to evaluate your horse and let him know what I find. He’s at the next vet check, ten minutes away.”

She eyed me sideways. “Okay, check him. He didn’t want any water at the last stop, so my crew didn’t get him any this time.”

I tried not to shriek as I moved back to the horse’s girth. His heart rate was way too high, 72 beats per minute. Fast and thready.

“He can’t be dehydrated,” she snapped. “He stopped sweating miles back.”

My heart stopped in its tracks. It didn’t get much worse. I tented the skin over the horse’s shoulder and the skin took several seconds to slide back. I swallowed hard. Moving my stethoscope to his flank, I listened in vain for gut sounds, but the regular, progressive gurgling sounds of borborygmus were absent and his capillary refill time was three seconds. I’d seen better CRTs in a nearly-dead horse. This one was in trouble. I slid the thermometer into his backside and waited, while I stroked his dull coat with my other hand. When I pulled it out, I blinked. 39 degrees. Off scale.

“He’s not looking so good,” I said to the woman. “I’m going to radio Dr. Latimer. Can you see if he’ll drink some electrolyte water, please? How much electrolyte water has he had today?

No answer.

“Yesterday?” I was close to pleading, now. “Salt block?”

“I don’t use any of those things. Look, what’s the matter with the lazy sod?”

“I’ll let the vet speak with you about this, if you don’t mind,” I said, trying not to growl at her. Ignorance was no excuse in this game, and I didn’t trust myself to not deck her for abusing and neglecting this horse.

“Vet Three to Vet One, come in,” I barked as I walked away. I had to get far, far away from the rider.

“Vet One here. How’s the horse?”

“Any worse, and he’d be dead,” I muttered as soon as I was out of hearing range of the rider. “Heart rate 72, depressed, dehydrated, no gut sounds, not eating or drinking at last check, so didn’t offer it at this one. I’ve sent a girl for water, but his eyes are glazed and he’s past caring. His temp’s 39 degrees.” We need you back here, Doc. You have fluids?”

“Yes. On my way,” he said. A truck door slammed and an engine revved as he signed off.

“Dr. Latimer’s on his way,” I said to the woman and spun to borrow a bucket and sponge. This horse needed a cool-down.

So did I.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt! Read more in OAVS #6: Fifty Miles at a Glance, coming soon in Summer Romance on Main Street!  Preorder now here!

It'll initially be released as part of the Authors of Main Street's summer boxed set!

xx

Lizzi Tremayne

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Once Upon a Vet School #6: Fifty Miles at a Breath Coming in June!

Hi all!  The Authors of Main Street and I can't wait for our Summertime Romance on Main Street Boxed set to be released this month, including seven great new novellas by Authors of Main Street authors! It'll feature my Once Upon a Vet School #6: Fifth Miles at a Breath!  (Yes, you noticed… I'm going backwards… LOL)

Well… mine's sort of a novella… I seem to have this little problem with “writing short“.  It's come out at 59K… when it was meant to be… much less. :/  I hope you enjoy it!

Like horses? Things veterinary? You'll love Fifty Miles at a Breath!

Here's the first chapter from Fifty Miles at a Breath:

Southern California, 1986

“You'll regret you refused me,” Gareth Barnett-Payne menaced, reaching for me, but I spun and ran until my legs—

“Lena… Lena” Raywyn, the head veterinary technician, waved her hand before my eyes.

I blinked, shaking my head and willing my heart to stop pounding in my chest.

“Are you okay?” Her brows knitted together.

I gripped the edge of the desk before me. “Yes, fine,” I mumbled, wondering how anyone could be so vicious. “So,” I swallowed hard and dragged myself back to today, “what's the surgery schedule for tomorrow, Ray?”

She looked at me sideways, then turned to the schedule before her.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to release the tension stacked up from three weeks of flea allergy dermatitis, hotspots, anal glands and catfight abscesses. Through those stinking hot Santa Barbara summer days, I yearned for the touch of a velvet nose, the solid muscle and bone, and the scent of a horse. Any horse. It wouldn’t be much longer before I could go home to my own roan. I bit my lip and scanned the small animal clinic, my eyes and nose running as freely as they’d been since the moment I first walked in through the practice doorway. Cat allergy in a vet—great. Thank god I was going to be an equine vet.

“Let's see,” Ray's finger ran down the page, “two dogs spays, a cruciate surgery, four cat neuters, and… hmmm… I can't read it. I'll need to ask Dr. Franco.” She flashed a grin at me. “With your handwriting, you should make a fantastic veterinarian, too. I can't read a thing you write.”

“I really do try,” I said, with a rueful grin.

“Could have fooled me.”

“Not too many cats for tomorrow, then,” I sighed, “that’s a good thing.”

“We don't have many appointments, so Dr. Franco will be free to supervise and you should be able to do most of the surgeries.”

“I’m pretty lucky,” I nodded, “I get to do so much surgery here. I've been speaking with some of my classmates. They just don't get the opportunities I've been handed. I'll be forever grateful to you and Dr. Franco for that. I’m going to be a horse vet, but I'm sure there’ll still be other animals in my life.”

Ray looked at me, brows narrowed, until I began to squirm, with an overwhelming urge to cover myself. “What?”

“It’s a man, isn’t it?”

I gritted my teeth and held my breath. “Maybe.”

“No maybe about it. Who is he?”

“Some creep with a control fetish.”

Ray blinked and shook her head. “Tell me he isn’t your problem anymore.”

“He’s not my problem anymore.”

“Truth?”

I nodded. “Never was, much, though he encouraged the idea… rather forcefully.”

“You need to come out with us to a few clubs tomorrow night. Just the girls.”

“I’d rather stay away from men, but thanks all the same.”

Ray’s smile faded. “It’ll be fun, Lena. It’s a group of women. We’ll dance, have a blast, and go home. Alone. Can you think about it?” Her smile was hopeful.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, biting my lip. “Can I tell you tomorrow?”

“Sure, but we’d love to have you along.”

“I don’t know… I’m truly over men,” I swallowed hard. “They’re just not worth the angst.”

“All you have to do is come out with us. You don’t even need to dance with them. You can dance with the rest of the girls.”

I was far from certain, but I had no other plans for my hot Friday night. “Okay,” I finally said.

✶´`´*★ ☆  ~~~~  ☆ ★.¸¸,.✶

The electronic music throbbing across the dance floor jangled in my head. It was so loud, my heart thumped in shock along with the beat. With a deep breath, I forced my butt to stay on the barstool. And tried to smile. And look pleasant. Hard when everything about the place made me want to run screaming out the door. The men either plastic and young in their shiny, synthetic shi—

“Aren’t you glad you came with us, now?” Ray’s voice cut into my thoughts during a momentary lull in the noise,

I bit my cheek and nodded. No use wrecking her night, too. There certainly wasn’t anyone here with whom I’d want to wake up, much less spend the rest of my life. Maybe I was just too serious.

“That guy,” Ray nodded her chin, “the one who looks like he never leaves the beach, has been eyeing you up for the past half hour. Why don’t you go put him out of his misery?”

I rolled my eyes as the music started pounding again. “Come on, Ray, you know I can’t shoot guys in here,” I shouted over the music and smirked. “Someone might object.”

Ray closed her eyes and shook her head. “You really are a tough case, aren’t you?” she yelled back.

“Okay, I’ll go. I don’t imagine he knows how to dance Western Swing,” I said into her ear as I hopped from my perch.

“You go girl!” Ray barked, her eyes twinkling.

Mr. Lifeguard may have been eyeing me up, but he looked ready to bolt at my approach.

“Hi, my friend thought I should come ask you to dance.”

“Hello,” he said, with a heavy accent and I blinked.

“A Danish hello?” A smile cracked my visage.

This could be interesting.

His rabbit-in-the-headlights look dissolved and he laughed.

“Hvordan har du de?” he said, in my mother’s native language.

“Fint tak,” I replied. That made me smile. My mother would be pleased,

He started off on a stream of rapid-fire dansk, and with a laugh, I put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Whoa there. You’ve already heard most of my Danish. From my mom, I learned hello, thank you, you’re welcome, and stand up. Baby words.”

His smile melted, and he bit his lip.

“It’s okay,” I smiled. “Want to dance?”

“Tak, thank you. That, I would love,” he said, as he put a hand on the small of my back and guided me to the crowded dance floor.

“You wouldn’t know how to dance properly, would you?”

With a smile that lit the whole room, he took my hand and whirled me around the floor. The man could dance—and I was thankful once again for my many years of Latin and ballroom lessons. I never knew when they’d come in handy, like now.

“What are you doing so far from home?” I asked, after we’d been dancing for what seemed like hours.

“I’ve been at University here, studying marine biology.”

“Really?” So, the lifeguard guess was close. “I almost did that. I love to dive—I started when I was an undergraduate here,” I shouted, “but I’m in veterinary school up north now. Maybe we could go for a dive before I have to go home.”

“I would love to,” he bit his lip, his brow furrowed, “but I fly back to Danmark tomorrow morning. I wish we’d met sooner.” He genuinely looked wistful and my heart twinged at the thought of the friendship we might have had.

“Believe me when I say I’m gutted to hear you’re leaving.” That’d be right. I finally meet someone with the same interests… and he’s heading halfway around the world the next day.

“Gutted?”

“Sorry, very sorry.” My mouth twisted.

“Me too,” said the Viking. He took my hand and made a little bow over it, then he kissed it. I had to take a deep breath and lock my knees to keep from melting. I love Europeans.

“It seems your friends are ready to leave.” He nodded at Ray’s table full of women. They looked at us over their empty glasses, purses slung over their shoulders. “Mange tusind tak, and goodbye for now,” he said, as he turned away toward his own friends.

Many thousand thanks…

My heart sinking, I rejoined Ray and her friends as they walked out the door.

Outside on the street, Ray and I split from her friends and turned toward our apartment over the clinic. Ray stared at the retreating back of the blonde Viking as he and his friends headed away from us and tripped over a crack in the pavement. She recovered and turned back to me. Her mouth twitched in the light of the streetlamp. “Well, you’ve certainly found yourself a live one,” she said, with a wink. “When will you see him again?”

I snorted. “Probably never. He flies home to Denmark tomorrow.”

Ray’s face fell. “You can’t be serious.”

“Story of my life.” I nodded. “Told you it’s not worth it,” I couldn’t repress a smile, “but the dancing was spectacular.”

“You two were awesome out there.”

“It was all him. I just followed.”

“Could have fooled me,” Ray muttered.

“Truth be told, it’s easier, or safer, anyway, than dancing Western Swing, where the only rules are to try to stay on your feet while they fling you around. It’s fun, but Jesper’s dancing was… so much more subtle. It was easy, like… like… dancing.” I beamed at my friend. “Thank you for dragging me along. I really enjoyed myself.”

“You at least have each other’s contacts, right?”

My mouth dropped open and nothing came out.

“I can see,” Ray sighed, “I’ll need to take you under my wing. You clearly lack training.”

We both laughed, but mine was a bit self-conscious.

“I’ll be okay.” I gave her a half smile. “My focus needs to be veterinary school now. I really don’t have the time or the energy for anything other than that. The next two years are going to be hard enough just taking care of me and my animals, without worrying about the ups and downs of a relationship.”

“I see,” Ray said, though she looked like she did no such thing.

“It’s really true,” I said firmly, wrapped an arm around Ray’s shoulders, and gave her a squeeze. “I have friends like you. What more could a vet student want?”

“I guess you’re right, and you have your precious horse waiting for you back at home.” Ray stopped dead and stared at me. “Oh my god, horse.…” she slapped her palm to her forehead and jerked her head toward me. “How could I forget about you?”

“Pardon?”

“A vet tech friend of mine asked me last week if I knew anyone who could help at an endurance ride next weekend.”

“Like a horse endurance ride?” I goggled at her.

“No, you goof, they’re racing penguins. Of course, it’s a horse endurance ride.” Ray’s eyes sparkled. She’d grown up with horses, but with her head tech position at the clinic, she didn’t have time for them now.

“Where do I sign?”

“Have you ever helped at an endurance ride?”

“I've been on the ‘P & R Team’ at the vet school and my family’s done endurance since before I was born—I’ve been on my family’s Tevis Cup crew since before I could walk.”

“Boy, am I glad to hear that.” Ray let out a breath and shook her head. “Sarah’s desperate for some helpers.” She turned to me, brow furrowed. “What’s a P & R team?”

“P for pulse, R for respiration. It’s a team of vet students that helps at local endurance rides by taking heart rates and respiratory rates on the horses before they go on to the vets at the control checks. It frees the vets up to focus on lameness and metabolic problems.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Where is it?” A tingle of excitement ran up my back.

“It's at Los Lomitos, about an hour and a half from here. I'll make you a deal: if you go help Sarah, you can leave on Friday at noon and needn’t be back at work until Tuesday morning—you can take some time for yourself up there.”

The weight, the tension sliding from my shoulders made me want to dance the rest of the way home. I was grateful for the opportunity offered by this summer preceptorship, but I wasn't sure if I'd survive a whole two months down here, away from home and my animals, with only patient dogs and cats for company. Ray was offering me not only respite, but horses, too.

“Sweeten the deal,” Ray said, at my continued silence, “I’ll send you with my tent, sleeping bag and everything you'll need to camp in luxury. Including poison oak medication.”

I laughed, afraid my cheeks might split from smiling so widely. “I'm in. You had me at hello.”

✶´`´*★ ☆  ~~~~  ☆ ★.¸¸,.✶

It was still early afternoon on Friday when I arrived at the endurance race campground and found Ray’s friend Sarah, the ride manager.

I’d beamed at myself in the rearview mirror for most of the drive. Four days of horses, camping, and outdoor life after the desert of life in a city. I’d owe Ray forever.

The somewhat frazzled Sarah managed a welcoming smile for me. “There’s nothing you need to do until later, Lena,” she said, handing me a lanyard and passes. “Ray told me your history, and I can’t say how glad I am to have a volunteer of your experience and training.”

“Happy to help,” I said. “I just want to touch some horses.”

“Plenty of opportunity for that.” Sarah’s eyes twinkled. “The P & R team briefing starts at 7 p.m. and there’s another session afterward to practice taking pulse and respiratory rates. You wouldn’t want to help with that, would you?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’m at your disposal.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that. Most of the team are experienced horse people, but only a few have taken vitals before.”

“I’d be happy to help them.” I smiled.

“Thanks so much.” Sarah’s eyes glinted. “Go ahead and set up your camp. There’s a nice swimming hole in the creek, just down there,” she pointed, “if you feel so inclined. I need to run,” she said, as a man wearing an OFFICIAL badge touched her on the shoulder, an expectant look on his face. “I’ll see you at dinner.” Sarah and the man headed off at a trot.

As my meals were supplied by the ride management, setting up camp took only minutes and I was soon free to enjoy my afternoon.

A luxury I haven’t had in long months,

Inside Ray’s tent, I dropped my jeans and slipped into my shorts and bikini top, grabbed a towel, and headed for the proffered swimming hole. I hadn’t gotten far when the throaty rumble of an Arabian caught my attention. He stared at me intently from his wooden tie stall and I approached him, looking around for someone connected to this magnificent creature, but no one was near. His blood bay coat gleamed over a faultlessly muscled body. He whickered again as I neared him. With his body carriage, he had to be a stallion, so I peeked under his belly. Yep, a stallion.

I reached out a hand to him and he lipped gently at my palm.

“Ooh, aren’t you the most handsome man?” I murmured.

I jumped when he answered.

“Why, thank you,” came a deep voice, tinged with humor.

I chuckled into the laughing gaze of the man who raised himself from the ground behind the short wall at the stallion’s feet. “I thought he answered me, for a moment.”

The man’s face creased into deep laugh lines around his gorgeous blue eyes. He was as handsome as the horse, to be sure.

“He talks, this boy,” he said, as he slid one arm over the bay’s back and gave him a scratch on his withers, then stuck out his other hand. “Blake, Blake Sagan. Pleased to meet you.”

I smiled and introduced myself. “Just admiring your stallion. He’s a beaut.”

“Thanks. He’s pretty special. His name’s Prince. Prince Witeż, after his grandfather. My pride and joy. Are you racing tomorrow?”

“Not this time. I’m here to help, P & R team.”

“Ever been to an endurance ride before?” He looked sideways at me while he waited for my answer.

“Oh, a few. My grandfather’s done the Tevis Cup numerous times, my mom and stepdad a few more, and I’ve done some shorter rides plus ride & ties. I usually get to crew, though.”

“Ah,” his eyes glinted, “you must be the vet student from Santa Barbara.”.

I blinked. News traveled fast.

“I knew Sarah was looking for helpers.” He smiled. “Thanks for coming along.”

“Glad to help. I was in serious need of a horse fix. I’ve been working in a small animal clinic this summer.”

“Not keen on the smallies?”

“I love them, but my heart’s with the horses.”

“You off for a swim?” He nodded at my towel.

“Sure am. Sarah told me to go down by the bridge.”

“It’s a nice spot, but there’s an even better one a little way upstream. I’m taking Prince down there for a swim shortly.”

“I’ll see you down there, then.”

“Be there soon,” he said, and waved at me as I walked away.

Blake’s gaze—there was more light in that man’s sparkling eyes then I’d seen in ages. I wondered what he did besides ride horses—with that quick, intelligent spark, it must be something special.

What can I be thinking?

The next two years are not about more devastating relationships. It’s time to finish my doctorate and establish my career.

I cannot go there.

I simply cannot.

Want to read more? Keep an eye out for Fifty Miles at a Breath in Summertime Romance on Main Street!
Coming in June 2018!

✶´`´*★ ☆  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  ☆ ★.¸¸,.✶

✶´`´*★ ☆  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  ☆ ★.¸¸,.✶

Sign up for my mailing list to keep up on new releases and special offers!

xx

Lizzi

 

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WIP Wednesday: Somewhere Called Home

Hi all! Submitted Once Upon a Vet School #6: Fifty Miles at a Breath yesterday and today, I'm stuck into Somewhere Called Home, a novella about the early life of Scotty from A Long Trail Rolling in the Highlands of Scotland that I've already researched. It's due… next week. Thankfully it's meant to be short… but if you know me, you know what trouble I have with that concept.

M.bovis (Mycoplasma bovis) in NZ

Hi all, we're having a serious problem with M. bovis, or  Mycoplasma bovis in NZ. It is not yet endemic here, as it in many other places.

Many people locally have been getting increasingly frustrated at the lack of information they've been able to find and asked for more specifics. People told me they want more information than they're getting from the media.

I put something together for those of you who are interested on my veterinary website.

Four hours ago I created and shared the below page on only four FB pages and in that time, that new webpage has taken almost 500 hits.

I'm just a horse vet, but I can at least try to decipher some vet language for you and let you get the info…  straight from the horse's mouth, as it were.

Here's the link:

https://equistillstocks.com/blue-mi…/m-bovis-in-new-zealand/

.

My best wishes to all of you and your beasties in this trying time.

xx

Lizzi

The post M.bovis (Mycoplasma bovis) in NZ appeared first on Lizzi Tremayne Author.

The Realm of Silence now out!

Just wanted to let you know Jude Knight Author's newest book in The Golden Redpennings series, The Realm of Silence, is now available… before its release on major e-retailers!

Jude is one of the Bluestocking Belles, too, and writes historical romance, but you'll find her stories are just that little bit different from the standard. I love them, and I think you will, too!

She's just made her books available from her own website for the first time.

Have a look — you'll be glad you did!

Excerpt from The Realm of Silence

Here's an excerpt from The Realm of Silence, Book 3 in the Golden Redpennings series!

 

Lyons was too ill to continue, so Susan arranged lodgings and nursing, which meant it was ten of the clock before she and Gil were crossing the stableyard to the readied carriage.

“I feel guilty about abandoning him,” Susan said, as they pulled out into the road.

Gil didn’t take his eyes from the horses, which were fresh and inclined to take offence at swaying bushes and innocuous puddles. “You have left him well cared for. You have no need to feel guilty.”

He had his own reasons for not wanting to leave Lyons behind. Handing Susan down from the carriage yesterday was torture enough. Riding in the cabriolet-phaeton with her was a mix of Heaven and Hell beyond anything he could have imagined.

Even when she sat decorous inches away, every particle of his body stood to attention. And when she leaned into him as they took a corner, her shoulder brushing his arm, he went rigid with the effort of keeping that arm on its appointed job, and not wrapping it around the appetising bundle beside him.

His arm was not the only part of him that was rigid. Only the fact she never gave him the least encouragement allowed him to maintain a facade of gentlemanly behaviour.

From the corner of his eye he could see Susan turn towards him, saying nothing, examining him for so long that Gil had to quell the urge to shift under her inspection. “I thought you were going to demand I let you go on alone,” she admitted, after a very long silence.

“I need you for when we catch up with Miss Grahame and your daughter.” Young Amy hadn’t seen him in four years, and Miss Grahame didn’t know him at all.

Gil didn’t want to imagine the fuss the two girls or the woman with them might make if they objected to his attempt at a rescue.

“I cannot make sense of it, Rutledge,” Susan complained. “Why did they join forces with Miss Cornillac? And who is the young man?”

“If it is Miss Cornillac,” Gil cautioned. “We know only that she is French and bound for Doncaster. A pity no one observed the first meeting between her and our two runaways.”

All the inn could confirm was that the two parties—one a French lady calling herself Madame Duval and the other a very young couple who claimed to be brother and sister—had arrived in separate post chaises and commissioned separate rooms, but had breakfasted together and left in a single post chaise.

And yes, the mysterious pursuer had put in an appearance the day before yesterday, notable only for his questions about his French cousin, who was travelling north alone.

The Goddess worried at the few threads they had as they passed Burghley Park and trudged up the steep rise to North Witham. Gil listened with half an ear while planning their stops on the day’s journey. The horses were still stepping out well enough, and from here the road was easier through to Grantham. They’d change at the Angel; fresh horses and something to eat and drink. They’d make Grantham to Newark the next post and lunch at the Saracen’s Head. Gamston or Bawtry for the next stop, arriving in Doncaster late afternoon or early evening. With luck, they’d find Miss Cornillac and her brother tonight. With more luck, the two girls would be with them.

The Realm of Silence

(Book 3 in the Golden Redepennings series)

Rescue her daughter, destroy her dragons, defeat his demons, go back to his lonely life. How hard can it be?

“I like not only to be loved, but also to be told I am loved…  the realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave.” George Eliot

When Susan Cunningham’s daughter disappears from school, her pleasant life as a fashionable, dashing, and respectable widow is shattered. Amy is reported to be chasing a French spy up the Great North Road, and when Susan sets out in pursuit she is forced to accept help from the last person she wants: her childhood friend and adult nemesis, Gil Rutledge.

Gil Rutledge has loved Susan since she was ten and he a boy of twelve. He is determined to oblige her by rescuing her daughter. And if close proximity allows them to rekindle their old friendship, even better. He has no right to ask for more.

Gil and Susan must overcome danger, mystery, ghosts from the past, and their own pride before their journey is complete.

Be one of the first to read it!

Be one of the first to read The Realm of Silence, before it goes public!

Realm is currently available from Jude Knight’s book shop – click on Buy from Jude Knight on her book page at  http://judeknightauthor.com/books/the-realm-of-silence/

Click on any of the other buy links to preorder from major e-retailers. It will be released on 22 May.

Meet Jude Knight, author of Realm of Silence

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

She writes historical novels, novellas, and short stories, mostly set in the early 19th Century. She writes strong determined heroines, heroes who can appreciate a clever capable woman, villains you’ll love to loathe, and all with a leavening of humour.

Website and blog: http://judeknightauthor.com/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

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Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Jude-Knight/e/B00RG3SG7I

 

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