​She walked off and the dog obediently fell into step beside her.

“You’re a good boy, Finn,” she said and gave him a light scratch between the ears.

They returned to the hotel where one of the bellman greeted her by name with a broad smile.

“And how is old Finn today?” he asked, ruffling the dog’s ears.

“Feeling a little bruised. He crashed into a sailor today while chasing a Frisbee,” she replied with a rueful little smile.

“One of those SEALs?”

“Is that what they are?”

“Yep,” Fidel answered and pulled a dog treat from his pocket to give to Finn, who delicately took it from his fingers. “They train out there all the time. Grueling stuff.”

“Well, perhaps that explains the nasty disposition,” Charlotte muttered.

“So, Miss Forsythe, what are your plans for today?”

“I think Finn and I have had enough of the beach for this morning,” she said. “We’re going to lounge by the pool and relax for a bit.” She hesitated, then asked, “I saw some bistro type restaurants with outside seating alongside the beach. Is there something like that that’s not so close to the beach?”

“Sure,” Fidel said. “I know great place nearby that fits your bill. The service is quick, the food is good, and the staff are friendly. They also have outside seating along the sidewalk, so you can bring your dog.”

Charlotte thanked him and walked into the lobby, where another of the hotel staff greeted her and the dog by name with a big smile.

“Wow,” she said to herself. “When the website advertised this place as pet friendly, they weren’t kidding.”

She led Finn to the pet relief area, which he made good use of. Then they returned to her room where she used the bathroom and changed into a modest, one-piece swimsuit. Before walking out the door she picked up a book and a small bag filled with gourmet dog biscuits. They walked to the large swimming pool. Charlotte found a comfortable lounge chair and Finn plopped down beside her. A hotel staff member rushed forward with a stainless steel bowl of cool, clean water and set it down beside Finn. Charlotte smiled her thanks and opened her book. Finn slurped his water, then crunched down the dog biscuits she slowly fed him.

But the book failed to hold her interest. She kept thinking back to the big, muscular man whom Finn had accidentally crashed into. He’d be attractive if he weren’t such an ill-tempered jerk. Wow, again. Both for the hunky SEAL trainees who trained on the beach and for the incredible staff of the hotel who treated her and Finn like gold.

“You know, big guy,” she said softly, “if we ever come back, we are definitely staying here again.”

Really, except for that morning’s encounter, her vacation had been wonderful.

I missed my regular Tuesday blog last week. There's no good excuse. The blog simply fell through the proverbial cracks because I was focused on other stuff:

• Something killed all my chickens.
• I started two new projects.
• I had two interviews.
• I had two art classes.
• I was preparing for the craft fair on Saturday.

Speaking of art classes, the one on Wednesday produced a painting that, while not actually "good," I do like. Funny that. In a LinkedIn post, I referenced the effort to some homespun wisdom that has characterized (or castigated) genre fiction for decades: Something doesn't have to be a masterpiece to be liked.

The two new projects were a godsend, especially after far too many weeks with a negligible income. Freelancing tends toward the "feast or famine" cycle and I fret when I'm in a famine cycle, especially when monthly royalties from book sales aren't enough to splurge on a fancy coffee. I've been scouring gig platforms and other sites, prospecting for freelance ghostwriting and editing jobs. I'm fairly picky and don't go after just everything. One of the jobs I managed to acquire through Facebook, which surprised me. I do a fair amount of networking through Facebook and LinkedIn, but Facebook has not heretofore been a source of work, despite having received some inquiries.

No, Virginia, professional editing is not free. Nor is it cheap.

Regardless, it's heartening to see years--yes, years--of networking beginning to pay off.

To build awareness of my books and maybe build my fan base, the Book of the Month has been accelerated to Books of the Month. Two books per month to be precise. One book will be offered for free for a weekend at mid-month and another book will be offered for free for a weekend at the end of the month. E-books, only, of course. To those who do take advantage and download free books, please, please, please leave a review!

As far as my own writing projects are concerned, I haven't done much at all. The as-yet unnamed sequel to Hogtied still languishes. The mind-preoccupying historical paranormal romance (yes, untitled) hasn't much gone anywhere either. And I still have three more novellas to write for the ghostwriting gig that never paid but that I decided I would produce and publish anyway. Unfortunately, nothing is calling me, none of the characters are speaking to me. It's awfully quiet inside my skull.

Until I try to sleep, that is.

Anyway, cross your fingers and send some good vibes my way in hope that those who embarked upon book writing projects are now in need of editors and will hire me to edit their manuscripts or realize that their writing skills aren't up to par and hire me to ghostwrite for them.

Adieu until next week.

​Angels High: A woman who makes her living by winning at a man’s game learns to expect trouble, especially when the stakes are high. But when trouble finds her this time, Angelica Durant gets more than she bargained for.

Coming Home: Life is hard. No one knows this better than Dessie Humphrey who’s trying to hold onto the family farm. When aid comes in the form of a wanted gunslinger, she’s in no position to refuse.

The Escort: Buck hires on as an armed escort to accompany a rancher’s haughty daughter and her companion to Boston for her debut into polite society. Both young women are lovely, but the young companion catches Buck’s eye and warms his heart. He thinks he’s too old and jaded for this innocent girl; but, when danger strikes, he’ll risk his life for her.

Hair Trigger: A female gunslinger returns to her hometown to claim her inheritance and get justice for her father’s wrongful death, but crashes into a statute of limitations.

Heart of Gold: A dying man begs an honest cowboy to take a fortune in gold through a lawless territory with Indians on the warpath. He didn’t reckon on becoming responsible for keeping the man’s daughter safe along the way.  

The Lesser of Evils: Cast from the native tribe that adopted her and the only home she’s ever known to make her way in the white man’s world, Sun Gold finds herself faced with a language barrier and a choice she never wanted. 

The Mail Order Bride’s Choice: Looking to improve her circumstances, an indigent woman travels across the country as a mail order bride to meet a fiancé who has plans for her other than marriage. 

Pride and Peace: It’s an open secret on the Lazy Five that Jessie North is a woman, but that doesn’t stop Daniel Harper from reacting badly when he learns about it. Can he overcome his prejudice when the proud half-breed saves his life? 

Resurrection: Undertakers bury the dead; they don’t resurrect bodies left for dead. But that’s exactly what Antonio DiCarlo does when a lovely Swedish immigrant lands on his doorstep. 

The Rancher’s First Love: When a gravely wounded Chinese woman collapses on Clint Cheswick’s front porch, he doesn’t expect to compete with his half-breed foreman for her affection. 

The Saint: A wounded outlaw throws himself upon the mercy of a Mexican priest. His demand for sanctuary gains him more than just temporary safety. 

​Survival of the Fairest: A woman kills her abusive husband and flees, heading west to restart her life under an assumed name. 

​“So, how’d you find out Jessie was female?” 
“She was wounded that night. I tended her.” 
“So, she owes you her life.” 
The foreman gestured with his empty hand toward the wranglers gathered around the campfire. “Prolly we’d all be dead if it weren’t for Jessie North. Her pa was Luther North and her uncle was Capt. Frank North.” 
“So?” Dan scratched his head at the unfamiliar name. 
“Even Wild Bill Hickock couldn’t match Frank. That girl’s got gun smoke running through her veins.” Since the look of disbelief hadn’t faded from the new man’s expres- sion, Cordell elaborated. “Capt. North and Luther led a troop of Pawnee scouts. It weren’t regulation, but Luther’s daughter tagged along with them. She been raised among Indian warriors and U.S. soldiers, and they taught her ever’thing they knew.” 
Dan scratched his head again, trying to absorb the oddity of a woman who understood soldiering and gun- fighting and resenting that no one had let him in on the secret sooner. “If you say so.” 
Cordell leveled a cold look at the other man. “You got any reason to complain about the job she’s doin’?” 
The wrangler shook his head. He wracked his brain for some valid complaint regarding the woman’s perfor- mance, but he came up with nothing. The foreman nodded.
“You just continue to think of Jessie as one of the boys and you’ll be fine. If anyone in the crew catches you harras- sin’ her, then we’ll miss a good wrangler.” 
Dan’s blood turned cold. “Is that a threat?” 
“Let’s just say that the last hand who thought Jessie was fair game never finished the cattle drive.” 
“Who killed him?” 
“Who d’ya think?”