"Guest" my alter ego, Gwynn Morgan

Most know that my 'good twin' has been writing a bit longer than I have and was published first. We happen to share a body and so have to be lenient with each other LOL. I have been taking up the space since this blog kicked off but Gwynn says she needs to have a bit of time and space too so I turn things over to her today!

Gwynn here. Hello all. I quietly say that I taught Deirdre all she knows but that is not strictly true. She has boldly gone where I never would and explored a depth of human interaction that I was timid to enter. I think that is good--mostly. I still blush to read some of her tales but behind the explicit parts, the same imagination and muse speaks. We both write about the places we love and try to make the settings totally real to our readers, almost a critical secondary character in the story. Our people are 'real' in the sense most of them are  folks you could meet in New Mexico, Arizona or other places in the southwest and even those in futuristic or past times are generally ordinary everyday folks. We do not write much about royals and celebs--you can get that on TV and the news, the tabloids and People magazine. So anyway let me talk a little bit about my work.

I began writing as a small child and by my teens was scribbling 'ranch romances' in steno notebooks and reading them aloud to some of my girlfriends. That pretty much set the tone--everything Deirdre or I write has a love story, often as the main plot or an equal plot to whatever action or adventure is going on. Our work has both as a rule. People do not fall in love in a vacuum. True, we may totally focus on a loved one, at least early on, but there is still life and other issues. Writing real demands that we recognize this.

I'd gone thru most genres in my reading over the years and stumbled onto romance in the 1980s when it was emerging as a growing and powerful genre. Most of the novels I read earlier had a love story--those that didn't seldom held my interest except for a few fantasy/sci-fi tales--and it was great to find books that focused on this! Of course I soon began to draft my own. In the early 1990s I joined RWA and entered contests--as a grass-green newbie. I didn't even know how to do correct manuscript form at first! I was in on the development of the Outreach Chapter and came to find a number of mentors and partners who helped me develop my professional level skills. I tried to sell to Silhouette and Harlequin and got some great rejections but soon realized I was not writing in their box and probably never would. That was when I discovered the new e-book phenomenon and the small publishers growing up with it. Voila! A place for me!

My first novel to get into print--and e-form--was one I had worked with for some time. It is still available and still holds a very special place in my heart. I could do it better now and someday may pull it and revise but Powerful Medicine will always be the first. It hit some issues that were unresolved at the time (reservation casinos) and delved into the struggles of many young Indians (most that I know prefer this to Native American if their real tribal identity is not used) in melding their traditional world with the modern one in which most of them come to live. Another aspect went into some spiritual and semi-paranormal areas and to avoid offense in this I created a tribe, and named them InDinay, since they combined much I knew of the Apache and Navajo people. The setting is real, the events were often right out of the days' news and I am still proud of this story!  I'll share the cover and an excerpt shortly. The book was ten years old last summer--it was released in August 2001. Hard to believe it has been that long!

Guilty by Innocence, m/m adult excerpt

Guilty by Innocence by Deirdre O'Dare
www.AmberAllure.com/GuiltyByInnocence.html

Blurb:
Jax is a cop by choice and to honor his father who was killed in the line of duty. His allegiance to his fellow officers and the code of ethics he lives by are the ruling factors of his life. When he finds an unconscious young man at a hideous crime scene with a bloody machete in his hand, Jax confronts a quandary. He can hardly believe this beautiful youth could have committed such an atrocity but if he didn’t, who did?

Gabriel awakes to blood and horror—and to a total blank of who he is, what has happened and how he got there. He finds himself charged with horrific multiple murders. Unless he can regain his memory, how can he prove he’s not guilty? Protective custody soon assumes new aspects as Jax and Gabriel develop a strange friendship that wants to blossom into much more. Can someone be guilty by innocence?

Excerpt:

Jax dropped the three pages of careful notes on his desk. Not a lot there to go on and the girl's report shed no light on Gabriel Suarez at all, although it did hint someone else had been the killer. Still, Gabriel had been found holding the bloody machete. It made no sense.


Wonder if the kid has gotten his memory back? Maybe talking to him again would prove productive. Probably by now he'd overcome his confusion and fear, but not much chance he'd speak without a lawyer. It was almost funny how fast the low-lifes caught onto that ploy.

They might pretend not to know two dozen words of English, but they could demand, "Quiero un abogado" with complete confidence and refuse to say one word more. There seemed to be plenty of do-gooder lawyers who showed up, glad to work pro bono, unless they were paid under the table by the cartel. These days, you never knew.

No harm in trying, though. He walked over to the jail section and asked to talk to detainee Suarez. A few minutes later, one of the jailors led him to an interrogation room as another brought Gabriel in by a different door. The young man looked pale still, hunched in the orange jump suit and wary as he sat carefully on the edge of one straight chair across from Jax.

"I'm Detective McDermott. I was wondering if your memory has started to come back. Have you got anything to tell me today?"

For several seconds, Gabriel looked down at his clasped hands. "I remember some, but still not what happened or why I was at that house. Not even when or how I got there. I know my name, for sure. I started to remember my old home and I asked to call my father. He refused to accept the call.

"After that I began to recall more. About a year ago, I finally told my parents I was gay. My father disowned me that very day, cut off the money he gave me to go to college, took away my car, my computer--almost everything and drove me out of the house. Left with nothing, I ended up on the street."

He hunched even tighter, as if he tried to shrink into himself. "It gets worse from there," he said, barely above a whisper. "After a few weeks, Armando Contreras took me in. I didn't know at first, but he's a hoodlum, maybe with the cartel. I never dared ask. He put me back on the street, sometimes as a decoy or a courier and then as a male prostitute, but I had food and clothes and shelter. So long as I did what he said, he took care of me and provided some protection. People knew I was his property, so few tried to hurt me. I'm not proud of this, but I had to live."

Despite his rigid moral code, Jax felt a stir of sympathy. The young man had been raised very sheltered, probably over-protected. Then suddenly he was cast adrift in the jungle of the street, as innocent as a child, more naïve than Catalina Rodriguez, although he was six or eight years older. When a clearly powerful older man offered him aid, he expected another father figure; instead, he got a master who saw in him only a useful tool, little more than a slave.

Still Jax knew he had to push in a final effort to jolt some more information out of Gabriel. If nothing else, maybe some fact that would help to clear him.

"Contreras ever asked you to do anything like a hit, maybe a drive-by shooting?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I... " He looked down at his clasped hands again, twisting them in his lap. "I don't think he believed I could do anything that critical, that huge. He called me names like baby and sissy; treated me like a boy instead of a man."

"What if there was a witness, one who can place you at the scene of the killings? Someone who managed to survive?"

Gabriel's dark gaze flashed to Jax's for an instant, something almost like hope in his face. "Is there? Did you find someone, a person who saw it? I would sell my soul to be sure, to know the blood of those people is not on my hands by my deeds. Yes, I know, I was holding that machete when you arrived. But I cannot, I will not believe I slashed people to death--old people and children. Por Dios! There are not enough drugs in all El Paso to twist me that far. If Contreras told me to do such a thing, I'd tell him to kill me because I could not obey him."

The young man's vehemence sounded real and sincere. Jax studied him in silence for a few seconds, waiting to see the liar's squirm or some other hint he knew more than he admitted. No such sign came. Finally, he had to speak his own mind.

"I don't think you did it. We do have a witness, a survivor. She speaks of another man who broke into the house, a man who doesn't resemble you at all. And she says he's the one who did the butchery. I'm not sure if she has a name or not, but the description was clear and detailed. I'm just not sure where you come in--that's what we need you to recall."

"I keep trying," Gabriel said. "I try all the time. Slowly, I do remember more of the past, but nothing of that day...not yet. I think, I pray it'll come back in time. Until then--I can stay here in jail, can't I? I have nowhere to go now for sure."

Jax shrugged. "Probably. You're still a person of interest, and we'll see after your arraignment tomorrow. It's up to the judge whether we have enough to charge you or not. With the witness' statement, he might say to let you go."

Gabriel went stark white. "No! Oh, please, God, no. I mean I don't think I'm guilty, but I don't want to get out, to go back on the street. I'd be dead in hours. They--Contreras or someone in the cartel must've put me in that house for a reason. I know how he thinks and works. I was supposed to die or be found guilty to take the heat off someone else. He decided I was expendable when they needed a scapegoat. If you let me out, I might as well kill myself."

Jax had to restrain himself from laying a hand on Gabriel's shoulder and offering reassurance. Since he could not do that, he did what he could. "If you get your memory back, you might become a witness. Under such conditions, you'd probably merit protective custody. That's what's being done for the survivor, a young woman. You'd better pray for that."

He stood then and wheeled around to leave. If he stayed any longer, he'd very likely say or do something he shouldn't. Cops and sympathy made a bad combination. He had to remember the blood and the machete clenched in this young man's fist. That was real. Until evidence and hard proof changed the scenario, he had to stick with that one.

Jax knew a jailor was watching through the one-way glass and would immediately take Gabriel back to his cell so he did not look back. He stepped out the first door when it swung clear for him, heard it click behind him and then the next one opened to let him back out into the normal world. He couldn't say right off if the interview had helped him understand the case better or not, but he did have a lead or two to pursue. The name Contreras was one he knew.

More background on writing efforts

My next release which came out in April 2011, was inspired by a number of things. AA group of  Amber Quill authors were developing a PAX, a collection of five tales with a common theme. This one was called Crime and Punishment. Perhaps influenced by Nora Robert's enigmatic or paradoxical titles, I came up with Guilty by Innocence as a vignette of a man waking in the midst of a horrific crime scene and no memory of what has happened there only to be arrested for the grizzly murders surrounding him.

The detective has a heap of unanswered questions about the scene--he stepped out of some shadows shortly after that first scene appeared to me--and a gut feeling the obvious culprit is really not guilty but he is also determined that no one will escape justice on the basis of bad police work on his part. Thus the stage and conflict is set.

I've written a lot of  "police procedural" fiction over the years. My yet unfinished trilogy written as Gwynn Morgan, The Copper Stars of Cochise (Penny's Luck and Mollie's McGuire, both now out of print) were early efforts in that vein. My late husband was in or near law enforcement for much of his working years and my middle step-son went into corrections and is now the senior sergeant in the Cochise County, AZ  jail staff so I heard a lot of tales and had some technical advisers handy. My youngest brother was also an attorney and just getting into defense and criminal work at his untimely death, another resource.

My late hubby got really incensed at the flamboyant and preposterous stuff presented in many movies and TV shows and even in some books. As a result I have avoided those fifty car chases clear across Texas and most of the "Dirty Harry" drama. This may make some of the stories less thrilling but at least I know they are pretty realistic. While some scenes, especially some of the legal proceedings, may take some liberties with fact and common practice, the actual police work is pretty close to being dead on. Detectives are not always doing glamorous and exciting stuff and there is a lot of blood and guts to deal with in these violent times. I set this story in El Paso, TX which has become a battle ground for the drug cartels and smuggling issues with shooting wars sometimes spilling across the border. I think most of the officers who work there would nod at my portrayal of their city. It isn't pretty. Guilty by Innocence is one of my grittier works but of course it is a romance and thus has a happy ending, or at least happy-for-now.

The Wild Bunch: Spark (Adult excerpt)

The Wild Bunch: Spark by Deirdre O'Dare
www.amberquill.com/AmberAllure/TWB_Spark

Blurb: Spark, Stace, and Cass have been best buddies since their high school rodeo days. Now they work for a very special guest ranch that caters to gay men who need a break and escape from their high stress fast lane lives. Rainbow Ranch has a reputation for providing precisely the Wild West adventures each guest needs and desires with the cowboys of their hottest dreams.


Spark is all a-twitch when he learns Lou Vetrano is coming back for a second visit. He’s not used to guests making a lasting impression but there was something about the dashing Chicagoan he can’t get out of his system. Is too much change coming into his life too fast?

Lou had a great time on his first visit to Rainbow Ranch. He knows a lot of it was due to one blond hunk of a cowboy he can’t wait to see again. Soon he senses things are starting to get a lot more serious than he expected or planned. How can he make a cowboy fit into his high finance life and why does he want to try? Then an unexpected attack by a hungry puma helps him put all the pieces of this puzzle together.

Excerpt:
Rainbow Ranch

Gila, New Mexico
Early March



What the fuck is wrong with me?

Josh "Spark" Diamond skidded to such a fast stop the horse he led through the aisle of the big barn almost ran him down.

Why am I daydreaming and all revved up over a guest, just 'cause he's been here before, 'cause he attached himself to me and 'cause he's really hot? No way! Me and Stace and Casa are the love 'em and leave 'em trio, the tumbleweed cowboys who never settle down. We don't hook up with guests except for their stay. That's always been our rule. We're the Wild Bunch.

Except that wasn't strictly true any more. Stace had broken the taboo with Jared Langford--and now Jared was relocating his digital media business from Burbank, California to Las Cruces, New Mexico just a two-hour drive to the southeast from Rainbow Ranch. That meant Stace would likely be spending considerable time there or Jared would be at the ranch... despite some undefined issues between him and the ranch owner, Jason Langford.

The three cowboys still speculated among themselves about that situation and the uncanny resemblance between the two. Still, this also meant the Wild Bunch was starting to unravel after the three of them being inseparable since high school.

For a few seconds, an icy fist clenched in Spark's chest. He might not be scared of bad horses, tough bulls, the wild predators in the Gila Wilderness or much else but this change thing bothered him a lot. And now Louis Vetrano was coming back for a second visit.

In a few more years, Vetrano would be able to play a Mafioso don on screen to perfection. Right now, his thick, wavy black hair was only air-brushed with silver along the temples and down in front of his ears and his handsome olive-toned face bore only the first traces of lines. He could pass for a movie star, but he ran a company in Chicago. He'd been vague about his business, and Spark had not inquired much. You didn't butt into guest's personal lives. It was apparently a very successful company anyway since he could afford two vacation trips to Rainbow Ranch in under a year. Spark knew such visits didn't come with a small price tag. This time, the Chicagoan had booked a full two weeks.

Usually, the three cowboys tended to divide up the special guests their boss marked for unique and individualized packages of adventure among themselves even before the guests arrived. At times, though, a guest would select the cowboy he wanted for his private host shortly after he arrived and force things to switch around.

That had happened a few months back when Jared Langford, Vetrano and a Texas oil and real estate mogul had all arrived about the same time. Stace had opted to take Langford and that match stuck from the start. Casa was supposed to host Vetrano, and Spark, who was from Texas, would take charge of the Texan, but it had not worked that way. Instead, Louis picked out Spark from the beginning and pretty well monopolized his time.

Tomorrow, the Chicago don would be back. Oh, he probably really wasn't a don, but he sure looked the part. Anyway, Spark would drive to Las Cruces to meet Vetrano when his plane arrived. That was routine. What was not routine was the way his heartbeat speeded up and his cock began to twitch at the mere thought of the masterful and fascinating Italian-American. Spark had almost insisted Casa go collect the returning guest but he couldn't do it. The idea of Louis with someone else simply did not compute.

Oh man, I think I'm in deep shit. Spark pulled himself together and focused on the immediate job--changing shoes on his big white-stocking sorrel so the horse would be ready for some travel the next few days. The twitchy nerves almost went away while he worked.

Shoeing even a gentle horse like Quatros Zuecos took a man's full attention because so much could go wrong. One false move could lame a horse or earn the farrier a nasty gash from a nail or a slipping steel shoe. Spark was too wise to go into the job distracted, but finding his focus didn't come easy today.

* * * *

"Hey, Lou, whattsa matter? You're as fidgety as a whore in church."

Louis Vetrano barely restrained a snarl at the question. Mike's not trying to be a wiseass--he really doesn't get it. He knew his assistant to be loyal to a fault and simply concerned by his boss's lapse from his normal calm and steady demeanor.

"Just too many loose ends to tie up, Mike. I've gotta leave first thing in the morning. Mixing business and pleasure this trip. That's why I want you here and ready to jump on some things if I send word. I'm looking into some hot investment possibilities in New Mexico. Getting a toe in their green technology door could do wonders for Vetrano Enterprises. Then maybe I'll squeeze in a week or two to relax at the dude ranch again. This winter has been hell on a skateboard."

A trace of relief slid across his assistant's well-lined face. Mike Comparo had been with Lou's father for years before Lou inherited his services along with the leadership of Vetrano Enterprises. Mike knew almost as much about the family and its business as Lou did.

Lou was not about to admit the visit to the dude ranch played a bigger and more unsettling part in his thoughts than did the investment opportunities. True, Vetrano Enterprises had taken some losses in the recession, but things were not that bad. A few wise moves could recoup those dollars and add a good many more if all went as planned. But the idea of spending more time with a certain cowboy--now that seemed a risky venture at best, but an opportunity Lou could not resist or refuse.

What am I doing, mooning over a good looking young stud--one who smells like horses and probably has straw between his ears when it comes to high finance and all the things that have always mattered to me? If I wanted a boy toy, I could find plenty more amenable candidates right here at home.

Yeah, the sex was great and probably will be again, but that's not enough to build anything real around. I've got to get a grip. He's not much more than a prostitute--giving satisfaction and playing the game because it's his job. Only thing is, he sure does a fucking good job!

Not until Lou's plane finally lifted into the air the next morning did he manage to settle down. Once on the way, his worries seemed to fade into the hazy sky as the plane nosed up through the clouds. He settled back in his seat, flipped open his latest gadget, the newest smart phone-cum-computer, and set a few business projects into motion. After that, he glanced through the few fast photos he'd managed to capture of Josh "Spark" Diamond, the cowboy he was itching to see again.

He'd looked at them a hundred times, but it wasn't enough. Yeah, the westerner looked good enough from every angle to devour like a rare steak, but until you could hear his husky drawl and lay a hand on his hard, hot body, it wasn't nearly enough.

Soon... just hours now, not days or weeks.

The next release in 2011...

Was  installment two of my Wild Bunch series. This one was about the blond Texan. Spark. Of the three cowboys, he probably had the least baggage and angst. He's a happy go lucky guy and a firm believer in the love 'em and leave 'em pattern--until one guest gets under his skin.

In this series I tried to show that you can't just say a cowboy is a cowboy and let it go at that. They are people too and just as unique and different from one another as the rest of us! I really didn't pattern Spark after anyone I have known or even a combinaton--he is a full blown creature of my imagination. Love those blue eyes and like his carefree attitude but I also knew he was ready to be brought down a few notches when the love bug bit him hard. And Lou, the handsome businessman from Chicago, is just the guy to do it.

Lou likes to make people think he is a youthful mafia don. He's not but he does come from a strong and old school Italian family. They are not happy he is gay and his mother still hopes she can find the right girl to marry him and produce grandkds. But that's not gonna happen!

One more little ace I had up my sleeve and another shockeroo for Spark was to wind up needing help in a dangerous situation, a totally novel thing for him. That's the high point of the story and would be a spoiler if I shared it!

Otherwise the same general background I already provided for Stace's chapter of the overall tale fits here. Sad to say, some of the beautiful country that I used to set these stories has been decimated by the Baldy-Whitewater fire the last 30 days and will not be the same for many, many years. I won't go into a rant about that but I want to! Forest fires as a terrible reality in the southwest these days and one I wish I could make just go away. But it is far out of my control although I'd be happy to have you join me in an earnest prayer that they be contained quickly and few new ones 'spark' the rest of this summer.

Canine TLC--excerpt and info

Canine TLC by Deirdre O'Dare  www.amberallure.com/CanineTLC.html 

Blurb: Wounded warrior Gary Sanchez gets a new lease on life from a visiting therapy dog while in the Veteran’s Administration hospital to recover. He knows at once what he wants to do when he gets out and back on his feet. With the help of Angie, a very special rescue dog, he follows this dream--smack into a young doctor with a major canine phobia and a hard-ass attitude.


Mirmar has struggled and suffered to get his MD and build a life in his adopted homeland. Childhood trauma has left him with a deep fear of dogs. When he sees one in his hospital, he’s ready to kick some serious butt. However, the man on the end of the leash is another matter entirely. What is it about the handsome Latino that draws him like a magnet?

Can these two bridge their differences and find a way to fill the aching empty spot in their lives with each other? Only Angie knows for sure.

Excerpt: Visiting the children's wing at the University Medical Center took a little more persuasion. Apparently, the doctors and management were not as convinced of the merits of pet therapy as was the Veteran's Administration, but after he made several calls, Gary finally received the necessary approval.


He drove the thirty miles up to Albuquerque from his home in Vallecito and found a parking spot in one of the large lots. He had to walk some distance to enter the wing he would visit, but the daily walks he'd been taking with Angie had done wonders to strengthen his wounded leg. He barely limped now, unless he sat in a cramped position too long or got really cold and tired.

Once inside, he headed for the nurses' station to check in as he'd been instructed to do. The charge nurse smiled at Angie and greeted him pleasantly enough. She'd obviously been briefed that he was coming in.

"We have one section closed off where we have communicable diseases and another small ward for the youngsters with compromised immunity, but you're welcome to go anywhere else in this wing. I assume your dog is well trained and behaves herself."

"Angie has her Canine Good Citizen and Certified Therapy Dog credentials," Gary assured her. "She's good with kids and extremely patient and gentle. I wouldn't bring her if she wasn't."

He turned away to start down the corridor. A tall, dark, slender man emerged from a doorway and skidded to a halt. He wore scrubs, a stethoscope and a very dark frown as his gaze lit on Angie.

"What is the meaning of this? Animals have no place in a hospital. We have desperately ill children in here. You can't bring that dog into this area!"

Gary reined in his temper. He took the letter from the hospital director that authorized his visit from his shirt pocket and unfolded it. "We have permission," he said, struggling to keep his voice calm and even.

Angie drew back, pressing tightly against his leg, feeling the hostility the other man radiated. She did not growl, but Gary saw the fur along the back of her neck had lifted and ruffled. This was a test she had not had to pass before.

He held out the document. The other man snatched it from his hand and then drew back a step or two before he read it.

"I'm not sure this is authentic." The man's black eyes flashed wrathful fire. "You wait right here. I'm going to call someone before I'll permit you to go one step farther. In fact, you'd better come back to the nurses' station with me. I can't put any trust in this until I hear it from Dr. Borden himself."

Gary read the tag pinned on the man's shirt. Dr. Hamardi, it said. He was young and probably new, a bit too full of himself and his status. Gary bit down on his temper. This was unexpected and far from the welcome he'd hoped to receive.

"You'll find everything is in order, Dr. Hamardi. I wouldn't try to barge in here without authorization. Hell, I did too many years in the army not to know how to proceed per protocol. Get off your high horse. The benefits of therapy dogs to morale, especially for wounded soldiers, seniors and sick kids are well documented. My dog is trained and healthy; she won't endanger a child in this place, I guarantee."

The doctor sniffed and stalked off in the direction Gary had just come. Rather than create more of an issue, he turned with Angie and followed the indignant medic back to the nurses' station. Of course, Dr. Borden would verify his approval, but this was a damn nuisance. Who did this smart ass young sawbones think he was, anyway?

"It's okay, Angie girl. We'll get this sorted out in a minute and you can go visit some kids. I know that's going to be fun." He kept his tone gentle and reassuring, not wanting Angie to be any more upset than she had been. She was so loving and friendly that hostility confused her.

* * * *

Mirman could not believe his eyes when he saw the husky man coming down the hall toward him--with a dog. How in God's name had the man gotten into the hospital, much less past the nurses' station and into this area of all places? He knew visiting in this wing was restricted to immediate family. In fact, no one under the age of twelve, except patients, was admitted without special dispensation from the highest authority in the facility. As for animals...that was so unheard of he didn't even think the rules addressed it.

I'll get to the bottom of this quickly. Someone was not doing their job. I'll see they're called on the carpet for such neglect.

He stepped in front of the stranger and accosted him, keeping well back in case the dog were to take exception to someone approaching its master. He still remembered the dogs his father had kept in the compound, huge, slavering beasts that guarded the area and terrified a small boy, a boy who needed no warning to steer clear of them. The night he and Mama slipped out to escape, he'd been terrified they'd encounter one or more of the dogs or someone would set the pack after them. Of course, this one was much smaller and did not appear vicious, but it still had no place here.

With only a cursory glance at the paper the other man offered, he barely registered the signature at the bottom. It appeared to be that of the chief surgeon, Dr. Ian Borden, but it could have been forged. He'd heard they had electronic facsimile signatures now so the document was probably spurious.

There's no telling what kind of germs and filth a dog might carry. The very idea! He strode off toward the nurses' station, not waiting to see if the other man followed as he'd ordered. If I have to, I'll call security. This is intolerable.


At the nurses' station, Mirman used the house phone to call Dr. Borden's office. The chief's receptionist told Mirman the doctor was with a patient. Mirman fumed. He knew the older man would be miffed if interrupted, but he had to cover his own ass in this case. "He didn't possibly give authorization for someone to bring in a so-called therapy dog, did he?"

He could not help putting a sneering twist on the term therapy dog. As far as he was concerned, that was a complete oxymoron. Therapy involved treatments and equipment and trained technicians working under a doctor's direction. What role a dog could possibly have in it completely escaped him.

The young woman's chirpy tone grated more than usual when she replied, "Yes, he did. I typed the letter myself about a week ago. It's the latest thing, Dr. Hamardi. Dr. Borden was quite enthused about it, actually."

Mirman sniffed as he hung up the phone, a few seldom-used foul words running through his mind. He turned back to the stranger, knowing he'd have to eat a bit of crow, but determined to put a good face on it.

"All right," he admitted. He knew his tone betrayed part of his dismay, but he could not override his superior's order. "I'm told your letter is authentic. You may visit the ambulatory ward where our accident cases are housed, the ones who're well into recovery. I cannot allow the possibility of contagion in the other sections without special precautions."

He had to admit the other man responded in a more polite way than he expected. There was no triumph or smirk, no rolled eyes or any indication of smug victory.

"Thank you. Angie really enjoys kids, and I think they'll enjoy her. It's hard to get back up and going after you've been crippled, hurt badly. I know--I've been there myself."

Something in the other man's tone broke through the outer shell of Mirman's protective barriers. Although there was no trace of whine or poor-me in the man's voice, the shadow of pain and struggle etched his face with a realism Mirman could not help but acknowledge.

"Accident victim?"

The other man shook his head. "Well, I guess you could call it that, but I'd say it was on purpose. Tangled with a roadside bomb in Afghanistan and almost lost my left leg. It's getting better, but my dreams of picking up the athletic goals I'd worked for in school, maybe even getting to the Olympics were blown to bits. I expect some of these kids are feeling as discouraged as I was before I met a wonderful lady and her special dog. Those visits gave me a new lease on life. Now I want to pay it forward. By the way, I'm Gary Sanchez and this is Angie."

He shifted the leash to his left hand and extended his right. Mirman could not refuse to shake without being rude. Reminding himself to go wash soon, he accepted Gary's hand. "I'm Mirman Hamardi, Doctor Hamardi."

Gary's eyes probed his for a moment, a keen and assessing look. "You're from the Middle East, aren't you? Muslim? I heard they consider dogs to be unclean."

"I was born in Darbhur, but I left there as a child and grew up here in America. And no, I am not Muslim."

"Okay. I was in the army, and I did one tour in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. I don't hold any bad feelings for the common people. It's not their fault, but that of the extremists and some of the leaders and politicians, the imams and stuff... Well, I don't know all the answers so I really shouldn't even discuss it. Do you want to escort me and maybe observe?"

Mirman thought for a few seconds and then nodded. "I'd like to accompany you and monitor things for a few minutes. This is a new concept to me--this canine therapy. But never let it be said I'm not willing to learn. A doctor needs to stay up on all the new developments."

The two men walked down the corridor together, Angie staying on Gary's left, while Mirman walked to his right. When they reached the door to the ward, he waved Gary in ahead of him. He paused just inside to watch, still not convinced there was any merit to this cockamamie idea, but having no valid reason to refuse. He was not sure what he was going to see.

Time for more story and behind the scenes stuff!

Wow, turn my back for a few minutes and two weeks go buy. Holy smoke. Well, its been kinda busy as spring fades into summer in the southwest--some off-season thunder storms, lots of smoke from some bad forest fires and wind--which usually blows at inopportune times. Yes, I can criticise my beloved desert lands but I still love them. It's kinda like family, you know?

Anyway let's get back to more fiction. Ready to start on my 2011 releases. I started the year with another Canine Cupids story. This one is set in New Mexico and features a pair of very different heroes, as I often do. The dog is a spaniel mix, a lot like "Madra" who graced my life for awhile many years ago. To read about my dogs you can check my personal/fun blog http://www.deirdre-fourds.blogspot.com/  I talk a lot about my canine friends there. Anyway the dog here is named Angie and she's a rescue, adopted by one of the heroes who is a wounded warrior. Gary's athletic dreams were shattered by his injuries and he needs to find a new purpose. That's part of the story.

I got the ideas for this one from the news and many other sources. Once when I was a wannabe working very hard to get the romance genre in hand, I read an article about conflict which said, "If you hero is a firefighter, your heroine should be an arsonist." That seems kind of extreme but the point was well taken. I adapted it here when I found another man who would hit the first hero wrong in a variety of ways and yet a friendship and attraction happened against the odds. Isn't that kind of like life is sometimes? We meet someone and are almost put off by them but there is a niggling, nagging little voice that keeps saying we need to get to know the person better. And in time we may end up BFFs or lovers despite the differences.

That makes a good story, too. So jump on to the next post, the excerpt. BTW there is no such town as Gary's home but there are many small settlements along the Rio Grande between Albuquerque and Las Cruces that have similar characteristics. I was living in Colorado when I wrote this one and very much 'homesick' for some of these familiar scenes. The Latino people have  been in New Mexico for centuries and their culture and traditions are  such a wonderful part of the region! I hope you can get a sense of how neat these little places are even though I have to cover that part very briefly. So on to Canine TLC.

The pictures are from Mimbres, not on the Rio Grande but a neat little community in Grant County and the other is looking east from the hill above Las Cruces on the west side of the valley. (the "roadrunner" rest stop). You get a feel for the vast spaces and the rugged mountains here. The line where the river runs is about in the center of the photo running from side to side. Thew highway visible is just before it crosses the bridge. My home now is on the far side of the mountains at the horizon.