Kay Bratt's Blog

A Passion for Puppers!

 

 

My life is extra busy these days and that means I had to let something go. After spending several years as director of a small dog rescue, helping with advocacy and fostering, we had to hang up our no-vacancy sign. The dogs pictured above are the ones who spent time under our roof during their journey to their forever homes, but they aren’t the only ones who burrowed into our hearts. These just did it a bit bigger! Some of these angels have now passed on to the other side, and I can just picture them hanging out with my Sir Riley Radcliffe, waiting for me to join them at the only Heaven I want to be a part of.. one where all my babies, human and creature, will be reunited again!

 I do hope that when my life slows down again, I can go back to putting in volunteer hours for these who need a voice. In the meantime, if you are looking for a reputable rescue to assist, please check out Yorkie Rescue of the Carolinas.

See the little fellow I’m hugging in the photo? You really need to read his story if you love to hear about redemption and happily ever afters! You can read it here:  “Grandpa Oliver’s Story” 

Want to know more about how my animals have helped me through my tumultuous life?A lot of it is between the pages of my memoir, All My Dogs Go to Heaven.Grandpa Oliver and I on the cover!

 

 

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TELL ME WHY!

TELL ME WHY, Book 14 of Hart’s Ridge is now available for pre-order here: https://amzn.to/4ortTZu

Thank you for falling in love with the Gray sisters and Hart’s Ridge!

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In 2008 I returned from China after a nearly 5-year livin...

In 2008 I returned from China after a nearly 5-year living stint. I was broken. I felt hopeless because I was leaving behind what I felt was my reason for being. My passion. The thing that brought out the true me. I had started, organized, and led a volunteer group in a local orphanage. As a team, we did many really good things. We witnessed abuse and trauma, internalizing much of it, but we also improved and saved lives of children. We loved and we lost. When it was time for me to come home, I felt empty. In 2009, I took all the journal entries I’d been writing those five years and put them into my very first book, a memoir called Silent Tears; A Journey of Hope in a Chinese Orphanage. Going back through everything made me re-live it. I suffered greatly emotionally and physically, but I got through it and that book eventually sold more than 100,000 copies and helped many more children than I ever did with boots on the ground. It led to people adopting from China, supporting the children in foster care and other ways, and encouraged others around that country to do something similar. After that, I went back to work in corporate HR. I loved it at first, then I found myself drowning in big egos and office politics. I hated it. In 2013, I decided to write another book. This time fiction and based on a true story. It was called Chasing China and was immediately rejected. So I tried again. I wrote A Thread Unbroken, and it was accepted. That began my career in writing fiction and building my readership. I’ve made so many close friends from my readers, and I’ve created a network of individuals that care for me, and for each other. In my fiction, I use my own childhood and early adulthood trauma to write my characters. My work is known for packing a huge emotional wallop. Today, nearly 16 years after that first book published, I released book #40. It’s number 12 in a series that has shocked me with how well it’s done. I’m not sure what magic I captured with Hart’s Ridge, but I hope I can repeat it as I keep giving you more and more of the Gray family, and their small town mysteries. I give thanks to all of you who support my work, and I thank the good Lord above for giving me the ability to give voices to those who carry trauma in their lives, and find forgiveness and healing through the happily ever afters I write. Much love,

Kay Bratt Every Little Thing Available in Ebook and PaperbackAudio Coming Soon Get yours at the link below:–> DOWNLOAD HERE

 

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Just Released! Book 12 of Hart’s Ridge

 

  5.0 out of 5 stars Heart Wrenching

Reviewed in the United States on May 4, 2025

You’re already in too far. And you don’t even know how deep the water goes yet. Don’t forget who you were, baby. That’s how you remember who you want to be.

WOW! Another heart wrenching story. A family destination wedding for Madison, the daughter of Ellis in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. A beautiful family wedding that ends up with the disappearance of the bride and one of her bridesmaids. With not much help from law enforcement or even the resort staff Taylor gets things rolling to find the two girls. Lucy is on the road still running and searching within herself. Trying to find her true self and facing her demons.
I did not want to put this book down. The growing of extended family brings so much to the series. Love watching the growth of each character as each book focuses on a different sister or other family member.
Mystery, Suspense, emotions!

~

A fairytale wedding in Mexico.
Everything is supposed to be perfect.
What could possibly go wrong?

When Taylor Gray and her family travel to Cabo San Lucas to celebrate a beachside wedding, it’s supposed to be a time of joy and reconnection. But the morning after the celebration, the bride is missing—and the only clues are discarded champagne glasses at the edge of a private plunge pool, and a trail gone cold in the sweltering sun.

Back home, Taylor’s sister Lucy is on her own journey—wandering the country on what she calls her “lost highway,” trying to outrun the memories that haunt her and the voices she can’t seem to silence. But the further she runs, the more the road seems to lead her right back to the very things she’s trying to forget.

As Taylor works with local authorities and unravels a tangled web of secrets in paradise, Lucy begins to confront her past—and consider whether the path to healing might not be about escape, but finally facing the truth.

From the author of Hart’s Ridge comes a gripping twelfth installment that blends suspense, family, and heart in a story that proves every little thing matters—especially when everything is on the line.

DOWNLOAD NOW OR GET IN PAPERBACK!

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Coming Christmas Day!

 

Pre-Order For Christmas Day Release! 

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Blackbird (A Hart’s Ridge Novel)

Chapter One

Life was strange. One day you’re going along, and everything is fine—or at least your definition of fine at the time, minus the usual challenges that just being human throws at you—and then suddenly it’s upside down and the only friend you have is a Blackbird.

For the woman trapped in the confines of a dark and dingy room in a madman’s basement, life had become a delicate balance between hope and despair. Every day, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tiny window high above, she would wake up and remind herself to stay busy. It was the only way to keep her mind from slipping into the depths of despair. To push away the dread of a visit from him.

Domnus.

The name meant master, he’d told her.

Her response was a blank stare.

It infuriated him.

She lived for the visits from Blackbird. He heard her move with the chain from the other side of the window and knew she was a prisoner. At the close of their visit, he’d lift his head and raise his wings a bit, then call out loudly as he looked around.

Conk-la-ree, conk-la-ree…

It looked and felt like he was trying to tell someone she was there, to come rescue her and release her from her concrete prison. The woman often found solace in the melodious songs he sang, as if the blackbird was an embodiment of her longing for freedom. But as much as she wanted to reach out and touch him, their connection remained intangible, restricted by the invisible barriers that separated them.

She had didn’t know exactly how long she’d been there. Somewhere between eight months and a year. On occasion, he drugged her and when she awoke, she felt it could’ve been hours or days. Her hair, once cut in a short style, was now long. On her head and her body, but then it had always grown fast. She had learned to live in the present, to focus on the tasks that kept her occupied within the confines of her room. Staying busy became her means of survival, a way to drown out the eerie silence that pervaded the space around her.

She had crafted her own routine, eventually finding purpose in the simplest of activities. Each morning, she meticulously made her bed, smoothing the wrinkled sheet and fluffing the faded pillow that graced the soiled mattress in the corner.

It was a small act, but it gave her a sense of order in the chaos of her situation.

Then, she would set about cleaning her meager surroundings. With a makeshift broom fashioned from discarded clothes and a broken handle, she would sweep away the dust and debris that had accumulated since her last cleaning session. It was a never-ending battle against the grit and grime, but it gave her a semblance of control over her environment.

Afterward, she sat by the small, barred window, watching as the outside world moved on without her. Nothing much happened on the ground. A random squirrel. A dog walking by.

But the sky always changed.

The sky was her canvas. The clouds her paint and the tool that allowed her imagination to take flight. She would discover stories in their makeup, imagining what it would be like to be part of that vibrant tapestry. In those stolen moments of reverie, she would lose herself.

Time became her enemy and her ally, as the days blended into one another. She marked the passage of time with the growth of the morning glory vine she’d found behind the discarded wardrobe cabinet. Once just a tiny bud, it had found a way in through a crack at the foundation, dipping in from the ground level and then raising her head inside.

She tended it with care and watched it thrive under her nurturing touch. It reminded her of the resilience of life, and she drew strength from its steady growth.

As each day would draw to a close, the music would start, and he would come.

She’d resisted at first, but he’d broken her spirit after he’d broken bones. A nose that would never be straight again. A wrist that had healed awkwardly.

Pain was a mighty convincer.

The will to live wasn’t easily squashed.

Especially when she had children waiting for her to find her way home.

The music became her refuge, a way to escape what he was doing to her body. She would close her eyes and let the notes carry her away, imagining herself dancing freely in an ethereal realm beyond the prison walls.

And so, she danced. In her imagination, away from the dimly lit room, with the stench of his scent threatening to suffocate her, she twirled and swayed, her movements graceful and fluid, as if she were performing on a grand stage. With closed eyes, she envisioned herself surrounded by an audience, their applause echoing in her ears, a reminder that she was more than just a prisoner.

In those moments, she could transcend the confines of her physical space and the abuse. The room transformed into a vast ballroom, adorned with sparkling chandeliers and ornate decorations. She was no longer a captive but a radiant performer, charming the hearts of those who watched her with awe.

Sometimes, she would choreograph intricate routines, mapping out the steps in her mind as she danced. Each movement became a rebellion against her captivity, a declaration of her indomitable spirit. She would leap and spin, her body a vessel of expression, defying the limitations imposed upon her.

As the music swelled within her, her heart soared, and for a moment, she could forget the bleakness of her reality. In the realm of her imagination, she was free—free to express herself, free to dream, and free to hope.

But inevitably, he would finish, and the music would fade. The applause would cease, and she would find herself alone in the darkness once again. The room would revert to its oppressive reality, and the weight of her confinement would settle upon her shoulders.

The guilt and horror of what he’d done to her was always left in his wake.

Yet, despite the crushing despair that threatened to engulf her, she clung to the fragments of joy she found within her daily activities. She knew that was not just a means of distraction, but a lifeline that kept her spirit alive. It was her way of asserting her humanity, refusing to be reduced to a mere captive.

And so, she would continue to rise each day. Continue to make her bed, clean her surroundings. She would continue to lose herself in the simplicity of a bird, a plant, and the swatch of sky she could see from her window. She would mark each day with purpose, carving out moments of solace and defiance within the bleakness of her existence.

As long as she could stay busy, as long as she could hold onto the fragments of her true self, she believed that there was still hope. Hope for rescue, hope for freedom, and hope for a future where the songs of the blackbird would be joined by her own voice, lifted in triumphant harmony.

And in the depths of her captivity, she whispered to the departing blackbird with unwavering determination, “Thank you for not forgetting about me.”

 

Pre-Order BLACKBIRD here: https://amzn.to/3HBicLG

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What a Year 2023 Was for Me!

 

Can you all feel my wave of exhaustion from where you are? 2023 kicked my butt in regard to my writing career. I set a goal to write and publish 8 books in the Hart’s Ridge series and I did it! I won’t say there wasn’t desperation, long hours, and gnashing of teeth involved, and sometimes I only made my deadline by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin, but the sense of accomplishment (and relief!) I feel is like no other. To make it even better, the series has been a smashing success! So much so that I’m already writing book nine, Blackbird. Also, for the first time in my 15-years of publishing, I earned the Amazon All Star bonus. Not just one month, but all 12 months of the year, for multiple books in the series!

All that is because of you, my readers, and words cannot express my gratitude to you.

Being a paid writer was always a dream, and it’s taken hard work and tenacity to make it happen, but being a million-copy selling author is all on you all.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. A million times over.

Much love and Happy New Year to you and yours!

Kay & the Bratt Pack

 

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Time and Tiana Kay

 

Nine years gone.. in the blink of an eye.It’s not her birthday. I’m just melancholy because the baby pic came up in my FB memories and I can’t believe how fast my granddaughter is growing up. On the other hand, I’m starting to see the woman she will become. She’s a very serious little girl. Feels sometimes like I’m talking to an old woman. In moments when I’m silly, sometimes she will smirk and shake her head lovingly. As if to say, “Oh, Nana.. you’re too much.”She was here for a week for Fall break recently. I reminded her of how when she used to come, all she wanted to do was have a ‘dance party’. I would buy her a new princess dress and she’d sing, dance, twirl.. for hours and hours.One time she asked me to do it with her. I told her I was busy, but what I really did was sneak upstairs and put on one of my daughter’s glamorous prom dresses. Black and gold, all sparkles like Tiana loved back then. I came down the stairs and she froze, her eyes widened..Breathlessly, she said, “Ohhh.. Nana.. you so look beautiful..”In reality, the dress was beautiful but I was looking rough that night. It didn’t matter to Tiana Kay. All she saw was that her Nana made an effort to make her happy. We danced and sang, and it was her best ‘dance party’ she’d ever had at our house.I still have that dress, but almost five years later, I can’t fit in it now. Menopause has kicked me in the hind end and added twenty pounds to it, too. This time around when Tiana came, we had an adult dress up party. We took Tiana with us to pick out Maui Girl’s wedding dress. The 2nd pic of Tiana is from that day. She was up early and had done her own hair and was brimming with quiet excitement. At the shop, she sat on the fancy couch and used her little sign with the utmost seriousness. Showing “not for me” when she didn’t like a dress, and “that’s the one” when she did.She drank a virgin mimosa and sipped at it like a little lady. She was quiet, polite, and so mature that it wasn’t like I was there with a child. It was like I had a tiny best friend sitting next to me, oohing and aching each time Amanda came out looking like a bride.We went to lunch after that, and finally home, all of us exhausted but so happy from such a wonderful day.Before I know it, Tiana will be a teenager and staying with Nana will no longer be at the top of her ‘favorite things to do’ list. I’ll be so sad. But I will also hope that all of the things I’ve strived to teach her when she was younger, about being a good person who does good in the world, will stick and that she will be the best part of me that I leave behind when I go.For isn’t that what it’s all about? Building memories and leaving legacies. Not ones of monetary value, but one of doing your best to make some sort of positive impact in the world and then passing it on to the next generations.Please show me your grandchildren in the comments and tell me something about them. And I’ll see if I can find a photo from our dance party. As long as you promise not to laugh at the old, haggard woman pretending to be a princess, as she danced with a real one.love,Kay

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What In the World?

 

I’ll admit that until one of 2023’s natural disasters affected me personally with my daughter and her losing everything in the Maui fires, I didn’t pay close enough attention to what was happening everywhere around the world in such a short time. It feels like it’s just boom, boom, boom. One disaster after another. It feels like nature is on a furious rampage, trying to get our attention.

 

In 2023 alone, earthquakes, floods, fires, storms, and droughts have descended upon our planet in a unprecedented year of destruction, leaving a trail of despair and heartbreak and orchestrating a humanitarian crisis of monumental proportions.

 

Just in the United States, the wrath of Mother Nature knows no bounds. Tornadoes tore through the South and Midwest, reducing homes and businesses to rubble. Destructive hailstorms in Minnesota and Colorado left a mark of despair on the faces of countless families. Rivers unleashed torrents of rain upon California, caused severe flooding in Vermont, and the haunting wildfires in Lahaina, Hawaii, turned paradise into a scene of the depths of hell.

 

Widespread heatwaves  this summer have made life unbearable for so many.

 

There is anguish unfolding in every corner of the globe. Beyond our own borders, humanity is grappling with a symphony of suffering, where livelihoods crumble, infrastructures are washed away, and lives are shattered.

 

Here’s just a few of this year’s disasters that I found out about while gathering facts:

 

(May) In Myanmar, Cyclone Mocha unleashed its fury on Rakhine State, becoming one of the most potent cyclones the region has ever witnessed. It wreaked havoc, leaving an estimated 145 people dead and obliterating infrastructure, homes, schools, and businesses. The UN reports that the cyclone has impacted a staggering 800,000 people.

 

In India, during the monsoon season of July, landslides and flash floods claimed at least 91 lives across six north Indian states, leaving millions more displaced and distressed.

 

Across the seas, Typhoon Talim battered the southern shores of China, forcing tens of thousands to flee their homes.

 

Canada is now battling the worst wildfire season in its history. The inferno, ignited by extreme dryness followed by a relentless heatwave, has left thousands homeless. As of July 17, a staggering 907 active wildfires raged, with 599 of them spiraling out of control. The Canadian Interagency Forest Fire Centre categorized the majority as “out of control.”

 

Greece, known for its ancient beauty, is now marred by an ongoing battle against over 200 wildfires just since the last week of August! Emergency services are stretched to the limit, as brave souls attempt to contain the unyielding blaze.

 

Morocco’s quaking earth on 9/8/23 brought a grim reality, with a death toll nearing 3,000 and more than 5,600 injured. The suffering knows no bounds.

 

A catastrophe in Libya on September 15, where heavy rains caused two dams to fail, inundating the coastal city of Derna. The death toll stands at a staggering 11,300, with an additional 10,100 souls missing, entire families lost in the deluge.

 

South Sudan, already known for their ongoing hardship, is in the grips of an unprecedented phenomenon. 2023 marks the fourth consecutive year of historic flooding, impacting nearly a million people. Half a decade without a dry season has left 47,700 square kilometers underwater, an area almost thirty times the size of London. The situation as dire, making basic necessities inaccessible.

 

Chile is locked in a relentless “mega drought.” Record-breaking summer temperatures coupled with fierce winds, ignited one of the deadliest wildfires in the country’s history in February. The flames devoured an estimated 270,000 hectares of land, claimed 24 lives, destroyed hundreds of homes, and prompted a state of emergency across three regions.

 

The anguish that stretches across our globe in 2023 is a wake-up call to humanity. I had saved some photos but the tears of those affected, the agony etched on their faces, and the resilience they display in the face of these calamities are heartbreaking. I think that 2023 will be remembered as the year our planet wept.

 

Why write this article? Because I never want to be so selfish in my own woes that I forget there are much worse things happening to others. That people are suffering more than I could ever imagine. Women, children, and entire families wiped out in minutes. Life is fleeting and today, I feel thankful for where I am, what I have, and who I love.

 

-Kay Bratt

 

*Citing facts/statistics from from Global Citizen, Washington Post, CNN, Al Jazeera

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My Maui Girl and the Maui Fires

It’s surreal what has happened in the last few days on Maui and our family is reeling but so thankful that by pure coincidence or Grace of God, our daughter was here with us in Georgia visiting when the fires broke out on the island. Their home and vehicles were decimated, and they do not have renter’s insurance, but they are alive. Many families are dealing with the loss of life as well as their homes and businesses, or their workplaces. 

Amanda and Steve were on the mainland to attend a wedding and plan their own, but now they are looking at figuring out how to rebuild their lives. Amanda’s place of business was also burned down, and Steve’s will be out of commission indefinitely as the island tries to get back on it’s feet and rebuild. We don’t even know if it’s feasible for them to try again on Maui, or to relocate to the mainland. 

It’s also surreal that I advocated for so many years for children in need while I lived in China, and now I’m being a voice for my own child. Don’t feel like you have to help them specifically, but if you do, we are very grateful. And if you’d rather give to help the community and those born on Maui, that would also be appreciated. 

Next steps for my Maui girl and her fiance are finding a way to reunite with Remi, their beloved dog. The pet sitter and her husband were able to evacuate to a shelter with the dogs, but they also lost everything. We are working on how to best get Amanda’s dog back into her arms. Any help for her and Steve, or for the community, is so much appreciated. 

To donate on Paypal or Venmo:

Paypal amandaisvirtual@gmail.com

Venmo @a-brat

 

  Maui Girl’s Home

 

Maui Girl and Steve’s vehicles

 

TO DONATE TO the MAUI MUTUAL AID:

“All funds will be distributed as quickly as possible to vulnerable ‘Ohana in need, kupuna, persons with physical disabilities, renters and those who have no insurance or are underinsured,” the group shared on Instagram.

 

Maui Mutual Aid

 

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