Wednesday Spotlight: Claire Ashgrove

A Chain of Bad Valentines

The symptoms of poor blood valsonindia.com cost levitra low circulation are irregular heartbeats, lack of stamina and energy, difficulty in breathing, burning or numbness in the body especially in legs and hands, bad memory, etc. In the event you have at any timefoundoneself lying awake at nighttime hour buy cialis valsonindia.com right after hour listening to the clock – and yourpersonalheartconquer racing – you could possibly be suffering from worrydysfunction. What Do You cialis soft 20mg Gain with Kamagra? – Strong and steady erections within a few hours (up to 6) after the medication is absorbed. – Quick absorption. Men are not supposed to take stress in order to avoid ED. generic cialis canada Timeless Valentine, of all the books I’ve written, comes the closest to resembling parts of my reality. Rest assured, the people I’m closest to can pick out the truth from fiction in a heartbeat. Hee!

Let’s start with the only exception – Lucas has nothing to do with my life in any way, shape, or form. He is strictly and utterly a figment of my imagination.

Which leaves Olivia who’s never experienced a Valentine’s Day as they are supposed to happen. Neither have I. So for me, the holiday has no great charm; I don’t care about it one way or the other.

Let’s make a list:

  • Discovered a significant other’s affair on Valentines? Yup.
  • Delivered flowers to my high school boyfriend’s other girlfriend? Yup.
  • Had a significant other who wanted every woman but me? Yup.
  • Had a boyfriend leave a dance with someone else? Well, not exactly, but close.
  • Had a cheating significant other thank me for showing him how to love someone else? Yup too.

I think that’s enough for now, but it should show that Olivia’s past markedly resembles mine. Convincing someone who doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day that it’s something of merit was a fun challenge. Let me restate that – having Lucas bend-over backwards to try to convince Olivia was a fun challenge. I did use Kansas City this time and one of my favorite places, The Country Club Plaza. One of the antagonists manages a retail store there and, while I didn’t manage the store, I worked at one and spent enough hours there doing management work, I feel like I did. The snake who tries to take Lucas for a ride in business is modeled after a horse-trader I knew years ago. Then there’s Olivia’s puppy. He was a direct copy/paste of the Labrador I owned. Four weeks after making my home his, he made it clear the depths he’d go to for his newfound family when an intruder entered the home in the middle of the night. I had never seen (and hope to never see) a rabid dog. Charley was so intent on protecting us that he epitomized Old Yeller that night. He brought home (literally) a girlfriend the following summer, and promptly became the father to six adorable puppies. At eleven years old, my neighbor shot him, (We’ll not discuss that – my best friend put it best, “Hillbillies with guns.”) and blew a hole out the top of his back that required 17 stitches. The tops of all his vertebrae were knocked off, and he was filled with shot. When he failed to come to breakfast, his girlfriend led me to where he was hiding in the grass, splayed open and bleeding all over the lawn, looking at me with, “Will you please help me?” He pulled through, miraculously, with no critical injuries. A year later, he was diagnosed with cancer. Of all the dogs I’ve owned, Charley is one who deserves to romp in green pastures and chase rabbits. Letting him go after nursing him through such a devastating disease was very difficult. I hung on by adding him into three books. One as the adult dog I knew. Two as the puppy I imagined he might have been. More to come tomorrow, with A Christmas To Believe In.

~Claire www.claireashgrove.com

When Lucas Benning relocated to Kansas City, his best friend’s sister became his roommate. Problem is, they’ve despised each other since he cut off her hair when she was fifteen. But with Valentines Day looming, his sentimental side can’t accept Olivia’s jaded perspective the holiday’s for fools. He vows to prove romance doesn’t go hand-in-hand with sex. Except, a game he starts to prove a point awakens a frightening passion he can’t escape. Eccentric artist, Olivia McDaniels, finds Lucas’ proposal laughable. Yet, when her brother commissions a portrait of Lucas, she sees a different side of the man–tender and selfless. To her horror, he chips away at the walls around her heart. Only, Lucas belongs to another woman, and the feelings he stirs can only lead to pain. As the holiday arrives, will Cupid’s arrows forge a timeless bridge between their differences, or will they eternally miss their mark?

Tuesday Spotlight: Elle Laudan

Men on Two Wheels

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Men from all walks of life are choosing to ride motorcycles nowadays. It’s not just ‘bad boys’ riding anymore. For me, there’s nothing sexier than a man in leather, riding a motorcycle. Long hair and tattoos would an added bonus.

As an author I have the opportunity to show people the softer side of bikers…real people, keeping it real. I’m blessed to be involved with a breed of bikers who spend countless hours riding for charity each riding season, men who put family first before anything.

Here is an excerpt from She Rides.

With everyone dressed and ready to go, they saddled up and headed back toward the festivities. Brrr, I should have worn my jean jacket. The morning breeze was invigorating, but a tad chilly for so much exposed skin. Missy focused on the explosion of reds and oranges up and down both sides of the road.

Up ahead, a lone biker rode toward them. Her pulse raced. The most gorgeous specimen of a man rode his hog past them. The absence of a helmet allowed a mane of sandy brown hair to flow behind him. His long, lean frame melded perfectly to his machine.

Abruptly, Missy firmed the hold on her handlebars as Lady veered dangerously close to the gravel shoulder. Mouse pulled up beside her and flashed a bright, white smile.

“Nice scenery, eh, girl?”

Her cheeks flushed, undoubtedly stained a lovely shade of pink. A glance in her mirror found the rider twisted in his seat, checking her out. Before he turned his attention back to the road, he tipped two fingers to his forehead and rode away.

$1 from each print copy sold will be donated to Breast Cancer Research. http://gowitheflo.org

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Passion in Print

Monday Spotlight: Claire Ashgrove

Seduction’s Stakes – Enter the Sport of Kings

Every one of us has a different inspiration for our stories, and a lot of people have asked me “How’d you come up with that idea?” A week of blogging provides the perfect opportunity!

Not only that, but sharing my inspiration is the only way I know how to invite you into my world. So with that in mind, I’d like to talk about Seduction’s Stakes, the first book I sold. I wrote it more or less on a dare. Until the first words touched the page, I had never planned to go anywhere near the field of contemporary romance.

This is a wonderful medicine for the use cialis no rx of ED. cipla tadalafil 20mg In an organic case, it becomes difficult to maintain stiffness of the male organ. Finally, we settled on a great cialis generika unica-web.com new sushi place we were both keen to try. Medicines that can cause tinnitus: Analgesics: aspirin, anti-inflammatory drugs Antibiotics: aminoglycosides, chloramphenicol, erythromycin, tetracycline, vancomycin Chemotherapeutic cialis without prescriptions agents: bleomycin, cisplatin, mechlorethamine, methotrexate, vincristine Loop Diuretics: bumetanide, ethacrynic acid, furosemide Other: chloroquine, heavy metals (mercury, lead), heterocyclic antidepressants, quinine Addressing the causes of tinnitus, it may disappear. The idea came from the desire to craft something related to horses, but completely unrelated to anything I worked with directly. At the time, I had this belief that a writer who only wrote about the things they knew intimately was cheating. (I’ve since modified this very wrong belief.) So I set out to write something I knew about but didn’t invest my personal time in.

I’d recently purchased a Thoroughbred stallion who I’d spent almost a full year waiting for his racing career to close so I could lug him home. I followed his career while I was waiting for him to come home. I had daily racing announcements coming into my in-box, regular conversations with his owner/trainer, updates on entries, scratches, and race results. I watched him run after-the-fact on archived video. (He was on the east coast, nowhere near my home.) All this following Hesa Angel’s life, and all those long conversations with his trainer, gave me the information needed to compose a detailed story.

As for Mister Spoilsport… he was indeed a tribute to a horse I loved beyond all reason. The horse’s name was Wilhelm Tell II, and he was a regal Hanoverian stallion. I’d lost him that summer to cancer, at the age of 28. He was the gentle old man who treated my toddler children with shocking patience. Willie impacted my life in so many ways that it became necessary to immortalize him in some fashion. So I gave him the success he had known in his youth. Riley’s love for Mister Spoilsport embodies my love for Willie.

Speaking of Riley – I’ve been asked on many occasions if he was someone I know. Sadly, no. I wish this were true! I’m not sure where, exactly, Riley Jennings came from. I know there’s a little bit of Angel’s trainer/owner in there, but strictly in the sense of Riley’s profession. The man himself… not a single clue. He hit the pages rolling and never stopped. I think I’m still secretly in love with Riley.

We’ll talk more about Riley’s Labrador Retriever tomorrow, and I’ll leave you with the short blurb for Seduction’s Stakes:

Never make a wager you can’t afford to lose…

A member of horse racing’s elite, Maddie McCleery’s got her eye on the Triple Crown and her heart set on her rival’s unraced colt. Owned by the one man she can’t conquer on the track, the same man who humiliated her in a youthful game of Truth or Dare, the colt promises sweet victory. When he refuses her purchase offer, and outruns her at the Kentucky Derby, Maddie sets out to seduce Riley into selling. In the process, she’s seduced, and agrees to a shocking bet. The odds aren’t in her favor, and she’s desperate for the win.

Riley Jennings wants Maddie almost more than the Triple Crown. In his bed, in his shower – wherever he can have her. For two years she’s eluded him and he’s refused her offer on his horse out of spite. Enraptured by her post-Derby game, he learns the lengths she’ll go to for his colt, and sees sure-fire victory. His proposed wager stacks the odds in his favor – if her horse wins the Preakness, he’ll accept her terms. If his horse comes in first, they’ll negotiate his way.

But will love claim final victory, or will unexpected tragedy stop them in the gates?

~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com

Thursday Author Spotlight: Mysti Holiday

levitra uk As parents, we cannot make up for lost time. If cipla cialis india the sexual desire is not affected, but ED is present in various conditions other than diabetes. Not solely are often harmful however the on line cialis resultant is harmful for the passive smokers who can be non-smoker. It is a prescribed medicine generally used in cakes as cheapest tadalafil a naturally flavouring agent. 3 Things That Make Me Buy Books (from a new-to-me author)

1. Word of mouth.

Not just ANY word of mouth … but words from mouths I trust. I know the people who think like me and like the same kinds of stories I like. If one of them says, “OMG, you HAVE to read this story! It was the best thing I’ve read in months and I just can’t stop thinking about it.” I’m not going to think twice, I’m going to hie my butt over to the nearest bookstore and get my copy.

2. Reviews.

Not just ANY reviews. The reviews that sell me on a book are the ones that really get deep into the “whys”: why they liked the story, why they didn’t like some parts of it, why they recommend it and to whom – realistically. I saw one review that said something like: “If you like stories about one-legged vampire cowboys named Egbert who dress up like Santa every Thursday and shout “YEE HAW” when they come, you’ll love this story.” I couldn’t help but wonder how many people actually sat around saying, “MAN, I wish I could find a story about a one-legged vampire cowboy named Egbert.” let alone the rest of that ridiculousness.

3. Reputation.

Authors build reputations, and the writing world is small. I remember when Wendi Darlin’s book, “Cowboy Games” came out – everyone was talking about it. I heard about it on every online venue I frequented, and after awhile, I simply was unable to resist. Yep, I got myself a copy. Actually, that’s sort of a combination of the other things I talked about, above: word of mouth and reviews. And, I’m sure that her subsequent releases were more popular because of the love folks had for her previous release.

What about you? What will make you buy a book by a new-to-you author?

Visit Mysti at her blog or website.

Friday Spotlight: Kiss Carson

About me!

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My name is Kiss Carson and I live in Queensland, Australia, with my husband, three children, one granddaughter, three cats, two fish tanks of fish, and a cheeky cockatiel named Charlie.

Writing has become a way of life for me…more than a hobby…less than a full time job even though I must write almost as many hours. I currently have three full-length books published; Illusions of Destiny and Jewels of the Sun with The Wild Rose Press, and In the Shadows of Angels with Solstice Publishing. I have one novella, Calypso’s Curse, published with Solstice Publishing, and I am waiting on the release date for my second novella with Solstice Publishing, Come The Blue Moon.

Writing is one of many interests. I also enjoy fishing with my family. However, there always seems to be a strange fish hiatus whenever we cast our lines. I love growing my own vegies and fruit, although with the cyclones and floods here in Queensland, I haven’t grown much at all. I collect dragons (real ones would be incredible), and I’m talking my husband into letting me collect knights and swords.

By far, my best achievement would be the three children my husband and I created. Nothing could ever inspire me as much as my 10 year old daughter fighting our cat for the life of a lizard (she’s so passionate!), or the way my 18 year old daughter cares for her own beautiful family, or the way my 12 year old son sees life in general (he has Asperger’s Syndrome).

Everything put together makes for a rich existence (and entertaining to say the least), and if my books make you smile, or bring a tear to your eye, or cause you to cheer—just once—then my life is truly complete.

Thursday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

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What’s Bugging You? 

   What bugs you? What changes you from a normal, well-adjusted, sane person into a person who wants to throttle someone’s neck? What really ticks you off?

   In our increasingly frantic world where space is becoming more limited and time is crammed pack with errands and work, do you find that people are growing more impatient? I think so. Consider this. How often do you find yourself clenching your hands while in public, just trying to keep your temper under wraps? I bet you do that more than you think you do.

   Here’s just a few of things that really bother me. Things that, if I’m honest with myself, didn’t bother me a few years ago.

   Gum chewing: Why must the gum chewing person make those damn popping sounds? Must they let everyone around them know how much they’re enjoying their gum? And don’t even get me started about gum on the bottom of my shoe! Seriously, people, use a trash can.

   Low-riders: No, I’m not speaking of the cars. I’m talking about the way young men wear their jeans. How can that be comfortable? Aren’t they afraid their pants will fall down? Would they even care if they did? In any case, I’m begging you. Please pull them up! I have no desire to know what color your undies are or get an “attack of the crack”.

   Rich people getting richer: Okay, I admit it. I’m jealous. But with less people taking more of the wealth in our country, I’m getting a bit fed up. I mean, seriously, Oprah, how much money does one person need? Answer? Enough to own your own network. Sheesh, I wish.

   Un-fantasy: Yes, I know that’s not a real word. But that’s not my gripe. My complaint is that I wish the world had more fantasy in it. Not just in books, but with real live fantasy characters like fairies and wizards. Of course, I’m not wishing for a werewolf in my living room or a vampire in my bedroom. Okay, maybe that last one would be good. No, I just want the good stuff like a genie in a bottle that could make all my wishes come true.

   So what bugs you? Do any of my gripes make your list? Or do you have other things that bug you?

   Still, I have to wonder. Has my list grown longer because our world is so harried and people are less polite? Or is it more a matter of my growing older and grumpier? I think maybe it’s a combination. Nonetheless, I promise from this point forward to do my best to remain under control and patient of those around me. But if I fail, please accept my apology ahead of time. Sorry!

When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Tuesday Spotlight: Beverly Rae

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Doing as My Parents Did 

   My husband and I always told our daughter that she will be responsible for paying for her college education. The reasons were several, but the two most important reasons were that her father and I would be retiring (or so we’d thought so before the recession hit) and because we believed she’d appreciate the education more if she paid for it. We told her that we would help, but our contribution would not amount to more than one third of the expense. And, growing up, she believed us. I believed us.

   Or so I thought.

   Now that college is imminent, however, I’m finding it difficult to stick to the plan. After all, my parents paid my way through all four years, so shouldn’t I do the same for my child? Sure, her father paid for his education, but that meant we were still paying off his student loans well after graduation. Those are both reasons to help her out, right? Granted, economic conditions are not good and my husband hasn’t seen a salary increase in over three years, but we’re doing okay. However, my husband is sticking to his guns on this decision.

   Or so I thought.

   He was staying strong, at least, until she received the acceptance notice to her first choice college. Then, when she received a scholarship, I could almost see his resolve bending under the sweet smiles she gave him and the knowing looks I tossed his way. One third of her college education will be paid for by the university’s scholarship. Sweet, huh? Yet I could almost hear him wondering. Could we count the scholarship as our one third? Sure. Why not? 

   Or so he thought.

   Since the notice of the scholarship, however, my husband and I have changed our minds. Have we changed them for the better? Who’s to say? Instead of saving for our retirement, we’re now saving for college. A little late, but there it is. We’re about two-thirds of the way to having the necessary money for the first year. The dorm room is reserved and the letter of intent is mailed. We’ve even signed up for an orientation program designed for the parents of incoming freshmen. We’re knee-deep in searching for additional scholarship money. As for the other three years, she’ll be on her own.

   Or so we think.

When hunter becomes hostage, the only question is: Death by bite, or by bullet?

Cannon Pack, Book 3

At night, Lauren Kade trades her white coat and dental drill for a black uniform and a gun. But not to hunt the shifters she once swore to eliminate. Driven by lingering guilt for killing a female shifter a year ago, she covertly throws other hunters off the trail. She’s good at it, too…until she’s taken hostage by a sexy werewolf whose thirst for revenge is even bigger and badder than his attitude.

Daniel Cannon tried everything to outrun the pain of his mate’s murder, but when hunters take down another pack member, it’s more than he can stand. Now that he’s got one of them at his mercy, though, something strange is happening. Her day job may set his teeth on edge, but her luscious curves make him salivate. In spite of her past sins, she insists she’s reformed into some kind of werewolf guardian angel.

Worse, his heart wants to believe her, and his body aches to mark her as his. Yet going against his instincts could turn him from lover to prisoner. Just when his pack needs him most…

Product Warnings

Be advised. This is not a test. Your limits are about to be pushed. Your desires will be met. Your heart will burst with pleasure and your dreams will be fulfilled. Prepare yourself for sex hotter than the sun on the driest desert. And if you dare, then run with the pack.

Thursday Spotlight: Kiki Howell

When Historical Writing Sneaks into Present Day and Other Research Mishaps

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I don’t know about you, but when I immerse myself in something for months on end, it sort of sticks with me, takes up most of my thoughts. But when I am researching a historical period, or writing a book set in one, well, this can pose some issues when the time period sticks in your mind.
While writing, Torn Asunder, my Regency set novel, I found myself correcting myself when I spoke and deleting parts in emails when Regency cant would slip through. I mean no body refers to anyone as dicked in the nob anymore, uhm, we simply call them crazy! LOL That is what my family and friends were probably about to call me when certain dated phrases kept slipping into my speech!
I also became enamored with the beauty of the clothing of the period and tended to wear more dresses and lace than usual. Good thing I am not big into shopping, or I might have been in trouble with the Victorian Trading Co. catalog.
I used my research as an excuse to watch Pride & Prejudice again and again. Yes, feel sorry for my husband. Good thing we have more than one TV. I love the version with Keira Knightley. Not to mention the hours I invested into watching the PBS series, Regency House Party.
Of course, when writing history, especially fiction where the heroine gets the guy, a great guy who is a duke or earl nonetheless, it is easy to become disillusioned with the current times, thinking they had it better way back when. Truly I think each time has its good and bad points. I had to remind myself of this a few times though, especially when the news came on. And, Regency England was only potentially good for most of the Upper Ten Thousand. I am sure I would have been a maid or something, the hardest worked of all the servants! LOL
Yet, one of the best and the worst parts of being engrossed in the novel you are writing are those 3AM wake-up calls from your brain, the ones when you wake to find it writing a chapter for you or changing a scene. You have no choice but to stumble out of bed, through the chilled house to your computer. The mishaps here would be tripping over the dog who now thinks she has to go outside and be fed breakfast as well!

Friday Spotlight: Cornelia Amiri

Sweet Knees

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by Cornelia Amiri
Far away from the white foamed sea crashing against the ragged crags of Scotland, the East Texas village of Kilgore is nestled amid flowering dogwood and stately pine trees which stretch high into the vast, azure sky. Where brawn, lusty sons of Scotland, garbed in clan tartans, gathered together, not for war, but to bare their bonny knees to a blind folded lassie.
Aye, this was the Kilgore Texas Celtic Heritage Festival’s annual Bonniest Knees Contest. Now for the non -Scottish, ‘tis nay a boney knees contest, ‘tis bonny as in the song, “The bonny earl of Murray, Oh! He was the queens love.” A young lassie sat as pretty as a queen, blindfolded so she couldn’t see a thing, especially the knees before her. Lifting her hands, palms outward, she wiggled her fingers, ready to explore the line of men in kilts.
The first Scot took the stage, loudly shuffling his feet. As he scooted up to the lassie’s lap, he pressed his hard muscled calves up against her shapely legs. Reaching out, the lassie laid the palms of her soft hands over his bare knees. When she’d had her feel of one Scot, another stepped forward. And so it went.
The judge’s fingers were cool and smooth as they slid over the men’s knees, but the men dare not utter a moan or groan of pleasure for that was cause for immediate disqualification. The Scottish lads braced their knees and kept their desire in check beneath their tartan kilts.
The judge’s claim of inexperience came into question, when a young girl in a kilt, a piper, bared her knee.  With but a brush of her fingers across the young girl’s leg, the judge disqualified the contestant. “It’s a girl. I know what men’s knees feel like and that’s not it.” Our blindfolded lady of justice caught another lassie and declared, “It’s a woman. They’re too smooth.” With these cheaters swiftly disqualified by the judge’s skilled touch, the vocal master of ceremonies surmised this judge must have had a lot of experience with men.
With the women contestants gone, the men walked forward one by one, and lifted their kilts to the blindfolded lassie for the second round of judging. There were times when even this stouthearted judge feared the unknown, but a redheaded assistant guided her hands to the fellows’ knees. For the judge dare not touch the wrong part of the male anatomy.
When a woman in the audience yelled out, “He’s lifting his kilt a little too high. I’m seeing a lot more than knees,” shrieks of glee and sighs of disapproval were heard from the crowd as they all strained their necks, seeking to discover if there was more to see than mere knees. At this time, the softest warble of giggles spilled from the judge’s lips and the musical lilt neither ceased nor quieted until the contest ended.
One historically garbed Scot threw his round shield down on the stage. As it landed with a loud reverberating bang, the judge nearly leapt out of her chair, unsure of what was coming at her. He wiggled his pleats along with his arse as he lifted his kilt high, first for the audience’s approval then for the judge’s expert touch. His kneecap was hard beneath her fingertips. But when she finished her feel of him, the judge merely shrugged and announced a low score to the redheaded assistant.
As her slender hands stroked one lad’s knee, the mischievous Scot dripped water from the plastic bottle in his hands onto his leg. The water trickled down to his knee. With a high-pitched squeal the judge flung her hands back while the disqualified rogue was banished from the contest. This trickster was a past winner, well known about those parts, who pulled a prank each year. Part of the fun was no one knew what gag he would pull at this year’s contest.
The judge seemed to be having a bit too much fun as it took her several rounds to pick a winner. In her defense she dutifully declared, “I want to be sure I pick the right one. It’s only fair.”
The winner was announced and before the cheers of the crowd was awarded his name on the Cypress Knee Trophy along with bragging rights and a pair of tartan boxer shorts. “My wife and I will have fun with these tonight.”
 A hush of bafflement fell over the crowd. One onlooker voiced the question in everyone’s mind. “Your wife?”
The winner held the package of underwear up to the audience. “Aye they be two of a pair, don’t ye know?”
When the audience’s laughter subsided, the contest came to a close until next year when brawn and lusty lads in kilts will gather in Kilgore once more.

Monday Spotlight: Melanie Thompson

I brake for squirrels

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           Watch out if you’re driving behind me. I brake for squirrels. It’s an every morning ordeal dodging the squirrels as they try to commit suicide beneath the wheels of my car. 
            From six a.m. until about ten a.m. the little beggars are trying to round up their breakfast and pay no attention to giant vehicles loaded with folks on the way to work. After ten, the morning massacre is usually over until late in the evening. I try never to run one over. But at home in the pecan and pear trees . . . it’s war!
            At home, they are not squirrels they are “tree rats.”  They are not cute and fluffy, they are vermin. Tree rats love to sit in the top of the pear trees and cut the tiny baby pears off–just for fun. You can hear them hitting the top of the upside down cattle waterer . . . plink, plunk, oh no, they’re at it again!
            A full grown tree rat can tote off 65 pounds of pecans a year according to Mr. Boyette, owner and operator of Boyette’s Pecans. Our current tree rat herd numbers in the hundreds. Maybe that’s why I only got $67.50 last year for six trees worth of pecans. They have been known to sit high in the pecan trees and throw nuts at the stupid humans walking around on the ground.
            We fight the tree rats at my house. When the sound of plunking pears or pecans wafts into the house on the soft summer breeze, the master of the home mobilizes, grabs the shotgun and stealthily creeps into the pecan field. The sound of the shotgun brings the yellow cur dog, Tinkerbell, running. She knows there’s a treat in store for her.
            But watch out for me on the way to work. I brake for squirrels.