Christmas Traditions, Equine Style

by Mary Paine

Happy Holidays!

A nice side benefit of being a researcher by training is using that skill doing fun research for my books. I research such diverse topics as mythology, witchcraft, police procedure, exotic locations, and of course, horses. There are some really fun holiday traditions people have with their horses that I’ve come across. The Chronicle of the Horse at www.chronicleforums.com has some wonderful ones. Here are some of my favorites:

• Lots of people do a very special warm bran mash with lots of apples and carrots mixed in. I’ve seen reports from people who use apple cider or applesauce mixed into bran mash, too. Here’s an addition I never heard of – adding crushed up candy canes or peppermint candies on top for a garnish. Ho- Ho- Ho!

• My in-laws like to warm up apple juice and mix it in with their water buckets. It’s a nice holiday tradition and they also do it on cold days to melt any ice and encourage the horses to drink. They also like to do homemade oatmeal raisin cookies on Christmas Eve and a special Christmas salad in the morning made of carrots, apples, and raisins. Tasty treats for our equine friends!

• At every barn I’ve been at there’s been a stocking in front of every stall and each horse got an array of treats put in it by all their human friends. There’s always a preponderance of crunchy apples and carrots with some Mrs. Pastures Cookies and sugar tossed in. Lots of people go for special bareback rides as a holiday treat. My darling boys didn’t have the broadest backs, so that wouldn’t have been too comfy for me to try, but it sounds like fun!

• Secret Santas always played a big role at every barn I’ve been at, mostly because we had so many junior riders. It was tough finding places to hide presents where our horses wouldn’t be nibbling on them. At the annual Christmas party we would exchange gifts, but would never forget our partners in their stalls and some cookies or other treats always made their way out of the party to be nibbled delicately from our hands by our best buddies.

• My husband’s family first started having horses on their property about 15 years ago. When they first had the horses, they used to sneak out at midnight on Christmas Eve to see if they could hear them talk, but they never caught them!

• The most wonderful tradition I’ve heard people speak of is the extra time they spend with their horses during the holidays. An extra grooming, a long scratch to an itchy spot, a hug and a kiss on the nose is the best present our beloved horses could have.

Do you have any favorite holiday traditions you'd like to share? Hope you all have a happy, safe Holiday Season and a wonderful New Year.

If you have time, I’d love it if you stopped by this evening to chat with me at The Romance Studio at http://www.theromancestudio.com/chat.php. I’ll be chatting at 9 PM EST about my new release Never Trust A Matchmaking Witch, romance, comedy, fantasy and, of course, the horse world.

Warmly,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

And the beat goes on. . .

Hi Everyone!

Well, I made it. Never Trust A Matchmaking Witch was released yesterday and I'm still standing (I think). Now it's the nail biting wait for reviews and sales figures! Unfortunately, I've been biting into much more than my nails, as my bathroom scale attests. I've been telling myself (ahem) I needed the sugar to keep going since I don't drink caffeine. As excuses go, I thought that was a pretty good one!

I've gotten good feedback on the book so far. The idea of a paranormal romantic comedy appeals to people in these uncertain times, as does the $2.99 price tag for the ebook. Of course, in my mind, the equestrian setting is perfect for a lighthearted romance since so many of my happiest memories involve horses.

As part of the promotion for Never Trust A Matchmaking Witch I'm participating in a Holiday Tour of Author Websites that Writerspace (www.writerspace.com) is hosting. When it came to decorating my site, there was only one picture that leapt to mind.

Among the many wonderful aspects of my years with Topper and Spencer was enjoying taking photos of them. I want to share this one with you in the spirit of the holiday season and in remembrance of two of my very best friends:
I also want to share a brief excerpt from Never Trust A Matchmaking Witch. Hope you enjoy it!

Susan stopped in front of Misty’s stall and arched slowly with a hand to the small of her back, feeling her sore muscles stretch. Just this one last stall to clean and she’d be done.

“How’s it going?” Brad’s huge bay hunter enthusiastically crunched a carrot Brad was poking through the bars of its stall. The powerful, athletic horse made a fitting pair with the tall, rugged-looking man in boots and britches, a thick quilted vest zipped over his expensive sweater.

His hazel eyes glinted at the view of her stretching her body in a gentle arch. She snapped to attention, tugging her sweatshirt down. She could have jumped in the shower, but, oh, no, she had to be practical. She felt grubbier than ever next to the handsome surgeon waiting for her to reply.

“Fine, thanks.” She stuck her chin in the air and tugged on the stall door, which of course was stuck.

“Here. Let me help you with that.” In a moment Brad was beside her, sliding open the door with ease then pulling her pitchfork and bucket in.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He grinned over his shoulder at her. “I’m used to it.”

“You clean stalls?” Susan blurted incredulous and then bit her lip.

“Well, not lately, but as a kid I did plenty of them. Want some help?”

“Oh, no. I can handle it. Uh, how’s Jen doing in her lesson?”

“Alicia’s working her and Ritchie over a gymnastic. She loves it.”

“A gymnastic? Isn’t that the wrong sport?”

“Not in this case.” He laughed, and she noticed deep creases by the sides of his mouth. He was too manly by far to have dimples. “Come look,” he added.

He placed a hand at the small of her back to urge her forward and a warm tingle flowed through her core and down her arms. Just a common courtesy, Susan told herself. She preceded him through the wide doorway to the indoor riding arena.

Together, they climbed the bleachers that lined one side and were separated from the riding area by a low wall.

Susan cast about for something to say and her eyes lit on the ceramic owls set in the rafters in the four corners of the barn. “Interesting decoration.”

“What is?” Brad asked.

“Those.” Susan pointed at the nearest owl.

Looking where she indicated, Brad said, “Ah, those aren’t decoration.”

“They’re not?” Susan frowned at them.

“Nope. The plan is to scare other birds out of here.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“Well, cleaning up after them isn’t a fun job.”

“Oh.” Knowing the odds of her being the one doing the cleaning, Susan looked back with gratitude at the owls, then blinked. They had moved. Hadn’t they? They were in the center of each wall instead of the corners.

“Is anything wrong?” Brad was looking at her closely.

“No. Nothing.” Susan looked again. The owls were in the corners of the barn. I really have been working too hard, Susan thought. She glanced at the owls again, and one winked at her.

Susan jumped sideways against Brad’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His arm came around her.

“Fine. Thanks. Um...do those owls have any moving parts?”

“I don’t think so.” Brad frowned at the owls.

“I just thought, you know, to scare the birds, they might have them move or something.”

“I’ve never heard of it, but good idea, though.” Brad grinned at her. “You should send the idea in to a horse magazine. Barn owners everywhere would be thanking you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Susan smiled back at him, forgetting the owls as she got lost in his warm hazel eyes. She must have just imagined the wink.

“See those?” His thigh brushed hers as he leaned forward to point toward the center of the ring.

Susan nodded, noting Jen astride the trotting Ritchie before looking to the area he indicated. Three jumps, in relatively close succession, were set up down the far side of the ring. The first was a cross-rail fence Jen was used to jumping, followed by a straight rail that looked a little larger than what she was used to. It was the height of the last fence which had Susan sitting forward in alarm. “Jen’s not going to jump those three, is she?”

“Sure. That’s the gymnastic.”

Susan stared at Brad, all inhibitions lost. “How high is that last fence?”

“Well”—Brad considered a moment—“I’d say about two nine to three feet.”

“What!” Susan jumped off the bench. “Jen’s never jumped that height before.”

“Relax, Susan. She’ll be fine.” Brad tugged her back down on the bench beside him. “Alicia knows what she’s doing. That’s the whole purpose of a gymnastic. The horse is set up correctly to jump so the rider can focus on her balance and strength over fences.”

“What if she loses her balance?” Susan’s small fingers gripped her knee.

“She’ll be fine. Alicia has the jumps spaced to be easy for Ritchie. This way, Jen can focus on her position. Watch.” Gently, Brad pried Susan’s fingers off her leg and held them loosely in his hand. Even through her agitation, Susan’s body reacted to his touch, and she glanced down at their joined hands before Alicia’s voice jerked her attention back to the drama at hand.

“Okay, Jen. One more time. Remember, don’t jump up his neck. Weight in your heels as you close. Let him come up to you over the top of the fence. Ritchie, slow and gentle for her now.”

“Does she always give instructions to the horse as well as the rider?” Susan wondered aloud.

“Not generally, but Alicia and Ritchie have been together so many years, I swear sometimes he understands her every word. Watch.”

Happy Holidays, Everybody and Happy Reading!

Cheers,
Mary

Endings and Beginnings

Hello,

My thanks to all the readers who shared their wonderful stories with me when I posted about losing my horse Topper. I sat and figured how long it’s been since I haven’t either loaned or leased a horse. It’s been twenty years! Even with Topper in retirement, I still felt connected to him.

He’s been laid to rest in the same field as my first horse, Spencer, who passed away as well. It makes me happy to know that they’re together. When I bought Topper it was because Spencer was getting a little too old to jump and I anticipated lots of jealous behavior. There was some if I was riding Topper and Spencer was in the ring or the field adjoining it, but in the main he was more depressed about not working. We put him back to work as a lesson horse and he was too busy with his new career teaching beginning riders to worry about Topper and me.

Topper was magnificent to look at and an amazingly talented fellow. In fact, there was one judge in particular who always placed him, pretty much no matter what I did in the saddle. When I retired him, I had guilt because he’d been limping and my trainer said it was the shoes. We had the farrier out a few times and it got somewhat better, but he still seemed stiff off and on. My instinct had been to get an equine vet whom I knew and respected, but was not the vet for this facility, out to see him. When my trainer disagreed, I demurred.

When I moved to another barn, the trainer there called the vet I liked best, who was in fact the vet for her facility, and he found Topper had a cyst on his cannon bone. We sent films up to Cornell, but there was too much degenerative arthritis around the leg at this point and they advised retiring him. My in-law’s farm is Shangri-La for horses and I know he was happy there, but I’m still kicking myself for not trusting my instincts and overruling my trainer right away. I might have been able to correct the problem surgically and have had Topper with me a few more years before retirement. I learned the lesson of always making sure you’re comfortable with a facility’s vet for everything, not just the basics, because it can be difficult to bring in someone else.

I may not have a horse of my own again. Instead I’ll be a horse mom catching a ride where I can, but I have many years of happy memories and lots of experience to help my kids. Now that it’s fall and it’s the perfect time of year for riding. I’m going to make time for a Mommy ride!

Sincerely,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

One, Two, Three, Hurray!

Hi Everyone!

I’ve always thought one of the side benefits of being a horsewoman, besides the obvious delight of spending time with horses, was how riding keeps a person in pretty good shape. Almost three years ago now I was put on bed rest with a twin pregnancy and I figured no problem, after all those years of riding getting back into shape should easy.

What I failed to consider was that while I was in bed, coincidentally writing my first novel, I wasn’t working those muscles I’d used all those years riding. Having twin toddlers doesn’t leave much time for riding either, so I came up with the bright idea of working out with a trainer early in the morning before my husband left for work.

Well, this morning I heroically left the house before seven to meet my trainer. I heaved my way through an assortment of sit ups. Okay, this hurt, but any woman who has had children knows there is no way around some sit ups. We proceeded to some exercises for my legs, which went well if you ignore the fact that I almost fell over a couple of times. Yeah, I told myself. All those years of riding—the muscles were still there!

We then proceeded to work my arms. My trainer had always told me if I was riding correctly I would be using my hand, legs, and seat. Never my arms. Still, I figured, I lifted tack, bales of hay, etc., so it shouldn’t be too bad. The trainer, admittedly a former body builder, demonstrated the equipment and pulled the handles of the machine forward and back a few times. I cheerfully sat down and gave a pull but the handles were locked in place. I was ready to ask him how to unlock the machine when he said ‘Come on, Mary, you can do it.” I gritted my teeth, yanked, and the handles feebly wobbled forward. I repeated this exercise, more or less, a whopping forty five times.

Staggering home afterward, I collapsed on the sofa to be greeted by my son who leaped on me and shouted “Mommy, wake up!” My eyes had been open, so it must have been my total lack of animation that confused him. Undaunted, he bounced on my lap, threw his arms in the air and cheered “One, two, three, Hurray!”

I’m not sure what he was cheering about. Maybe it was the fact that I managed to shift my arms enough to indicate I was still capable of movement. Personally, I considered this quite an accomplishment under the circumstances.

Given that I’ve been in the health care industry for two decades, I’ll keep on practicing what I preach and keep tottering back and forth to the gym. On a brighter note, when I told the trainer I used to ride with my reins tied and my stirrups crossed over the saddle, posting for extended periods and then cantering and jumping that way his eyes got big. He said the thought of doing that scared him to death.

Hey, so here’s a cheer for us hard-working riders! Right now I think I’ve used up the remaining strength in my arms so I’d better stop typing.

Happy Labor Day Weekend, everyone!

All the best,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

A Romantic Ride

Hi Everyone,

I’ve always been a romantic when it comes to horses. As a child I daydreamed about a fictional horse barn near us where the perfect horse would be available for me to ride any time (perfectly free, of course). I never let dreaming get in the way of doing, however. I would muck stalls, feed, teach beginner lessons, anything to earn free rides or just be around the horses in addition to the two lessons a week I was fortunate enough my parents could provide me.

I stopped riding when I turned sixteen and started working to save for college. As an adult I started riding again while in graduate school at Yale. The Equestrian Center was near the playing fields where my then boyfriend, now husband, played football or softball depending on the season. We would go over together when he had a game scheduled and I would ride the edges of the field, always on the lookout for errant balls heading my way.

Eric, my husband, is certainly an animal lover, but nevertheless had absolutely no desire to be on the back of a horse. He would come into the barn to get me and give an absent pat to whatever nose presented itself over the top of a stall door, but that was as close as he got. The only exception I can recall is when a polo pony’s door wasn’t firmly closed and it barreled out. Eric had just come in from playing football and reflexively tackled the pony, who stopped cold and backed right into his stall with Eric’s shoulder against his chest. Handy timing on that one for everyone except the pony.

Still, he wasn’t proof against my plea for a romantic ride on our honeymoon. He agreed, with the firm stipulation that this would be the first and last ride of his life. We honeymooned on Cape Cod and the barn we stopped at found the largest horse they could for Eric, who is six foot two. The found a lovely, gentle giant named King, and Eric dubiously climbed on board. I nearly bit the tongue in two not laughing, but I figured since he was going the extra mile for me to have my romantic fantasy the least I could do was be cooperative.

After a quick lesson on turning left and right, kick to go and pull back to stop (you’d think after years with me he’d know all this but selective hearing at it’s finest had obviously been in play). We had a nice slow walk through the woods with a guide and I loved every minute of it until I turned and saw Eric was no longer behind me. My heart dropped to my stomach and I called out to him. With a huge sigh of relief I heard him call back “We’re fine. We’re on autopilot back here.”

Come to find out King had dropped his head for a few quick bites of grass and Eric was just sitting in the saddle while King had his fill. When we suggested he pull King’s head up, Eric told us “He’s hungry. We’ll be along after he’s had his snack.”

I may not have married a rider, but I sure married a horse lover. When I rode competitively he ran my ribbons around the top of the walls of our den. He would tell people it was the most expensive art in the house (well, actually it was), but he was very proud of ‘his horses’ wins’. We’ve been together over twenty years and he still has a picture of both my horses in his office.

Here’s to all the wonderful supportive horse people’s families!

Cheers,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch

Hi Everyone,

Life is crazy but wonderful right now. I've just signed the contract with Siren Bookstrand Publishing for my novella Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch, which will be released January, 2009.

I’ve always believed the world of horses is magical. It’s been a lot of fun taking it one step further and creating some actual magic in my fictional horse world. In Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch the question is: What happens when a fun-loving group of witches start a new hobby — matchmaking for their mortal friends? Of course, the setting is a very beautiful equestrian facility where the owner/trainer has a plethora of talents, including witchcraft. It’s a given that her horses and even her barn cat have some magical abilities of their own.

Here’s a sneak peek:

Susan has some amazing fantasies about Dr. Brad Conway. Unfortunately, when she’s anywhere near the handsome surgeon, she’s a tongue-tied catastrophe. Along comes Brad’s friend Alicia, a horse trainer with a talent for magic and matchmaking. Trapped at Alicia’s home during an ice storm, Susan is thrilled to be on the receiving end of some fascinating, sensual advances from Brad. When she keeps encountering magical occurrences like a wolf-whistling cabinet, spoons stirring by themselves and a cat with an unerring ability to appear and disappear, not to mention change its own collar, she must decide if she believes in magic. But believing has a downside, because now she has a new problem to consider. Is Brad’s passion for her real or is it part of a spell?

I’ve had such a wonderful time creating the stories A Dangerous Dream and Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch. It seems my love of the horse world has taken flight in a new direction—onto the pages of my books! Hmmm…in my fictional world my characters can even consistently stay balanced in their half-seat (unlike me, for whom that remains an elusive dream). Not that all those hours jumping cavaletti without stirrups or reins wasn’t fun, but I suppose I can let my characters skip that part!

Happy Riding, everybody! Hope you’re all enjoying your summer!

Cheers,
Mary

Ride into magic and mystery with novelist Mary Paine
www.marypaine.com

My 2nd Book--The Dance

My second book, The Dance, will be released on July 10, Thursday. Set in the San Juan Islands, it's actually the first full-length novel I ever completed. While I wouldn't exactly bill it as equestrian fiction, it does have horses in it, specifically an Andalusian named Sueno. Here's a blurb and an excerpt from the first chapter:

THE DANCE
Jami Davenport
Contemporary Romance
Siren Publishing, July 10

What's a girl to do after her former fiancé declares that she's frigid?

Mariah Baker decides to take a jaunt on her wild side--if she can find it. The scruffy Puerto Rican leasing the waterfront house next door appears to be just the man for the mission. After all, what better way to defrost than with a sexy Latin lover? Only time is the enemy, and Rico isn't who she thinks he is.

Rico finds fashion-obsessed Mariah intriguing and unique. For starters, she makes horses dance, and his heart does its own tango for her. Besides, a hot summer fling is a welcome distraction from his depressing, uncertain future and dysfunctional, freeloading family.

As their summer together comes to an end, Rico’s phobia toward falling in love and Mariah’s insecurities are a recipe for a trouble in paradise; but in the magic of the San Juan Islands, anything is possible. Or is it?

___________________

Chapter 1
The Fall

Okay, who turned out the lights?

Was she dead? Did they have mud in heaven? Sticky, gooey, cold mud? Certainly heaven’s mud wouldn't smell like rank fertilizer and stale water. A distant voice penetrated her muddled brain.

Mariah Baker wiggled her toes and fingers to test each one. Lifting her head, she scraped the mud from her face with her gloved hand. Her blurry eyes focused on two large cowboy boots about a foot away. Angels didn't have big feet and wear scuffed cowboy boots.

“Are you okay?” A deep, sexy voice vibrated with concern.

She tried to raise her head higher. A large hand to match those big feet entered her field of vision. “What happened...?”

“You fell off your horse.”

Oh, yeah, she remembered now. An invisible horse-eating troll lurking in the nearby woods scared her ditz-brained gelding. He’d bucked and sent her flying like a rag doll, ending with an ungraceful face plant. At least it was a soft landing, as last night’s rain had transformed the footing in her riding arena into a mud bog.

“Are you all right?” The man sounded rattled.

“Mmmm.”

“Don’t move. You might have broken something.”

“Nothing’s broken. I just had...the wind knocked out of me.” She choked and spit out a mouthful of mud. The owner of the cowboy boots squatted next to her. Long legs, strong thighs, narrow hips, broad chest. Definitely heaven.

With a groan, Mariah pushed herself to a kneeling position and came face-to-face with Adonis. Well, at least he could have doubled for a Greek god. His appearance tickled her memory, yet she was certain she’d never met him. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and stared.

And stared.

And stared.

Heaven wouldn’t have temptations like him. He’d turn any good girl into a very bad girl.
A day’s growth of beard darkened his handsome face. His unruly brown hair begged for attention from a decent stylist. He wore clothes most garage sales wouldn’t bother to sell. His threadbare jeans had never seen a designer label. Yet his disheveled appearance didn’t come close to concealing his model good looks. Suffice it to say, the man fit every clichéd description of a hero in a romance novel, despite his scruffiness.

Too bad she'd sworn off men as of last night. So what if he was kiss-your-heart-goodbye gorgeous? Unfortunately, her heart wasn’t listening. Instead, it told her brain to get lost and snuggled up next to Mr. Scruffy, at least in its dreams.

He might appear scruffy, but he smelled wonderful in a clean, masculine sorta way. His scent actually permeated the smell of rancid mud that clung to her body. Without thinking, she leaned closer to get a better whiff of his expensive aftershave. A dedicated shopper, Mariah knew expensive when she saw it or smelled it. She’d also bet a winning lotto ticket he wore a Rolex watch and Gucci sunglasses.

Raising her gaze back to his face, she found him staring at her. He removed his sunglasses and shifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. The man had the most incredible brown eyes, as yummy as a chocolate mocha espresso fringed with long, black eyelashes. Now why did guys always have eyelashes like that when they never appreciated them?

Those mocha eyes sucked her in like dust bunnies sucked into a vacuum cleaner. She felt light-headed. And hot. Really hot. Taking a deep breath, Mariah gathered her composure—and her dust bunnies—about her like a suit of armor.

Relax, girl, relax. This guy radiated sexual energy like the sun radiated heat. She’d just been gobbled up by his magnetic sensuality. He was dangerous, and she didn’t need a guy like that to complicate her life. Get rid of him, the sooner the better, her boring good girl side warned her.

“I’m Ric...” He hesitated. “I’m Rodrigo Perez.” He studied her with interest, as if waiting for a reaction. “I’m staying at the Delgado’s vacation house for a month. That’d make me your neighbor.” He held out his hand to her.

She stared at it, while her mind stalled somewhere between fantasy and reality. He cleared his throat to get her attention. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. He grinned with amusement. His hand still hovered in mid-air. Mechanically, she removed a mud-encrusted glove and offered her hand to him. His long fingers surrounded her smaller hand with a firm but gentle hold. His thumb traced a sensuous circle on her palm. He lifted her fingers to his lips. His warm mouth grazed her trembling knuckles, lingering on each one. All the while, his dark eyes never left hers. Mariah fell for his technique, hook, line, and sinker; stupid, gullible woman that she was.

A five-alarm siren clanged in her head, and she jerked her hand away. The sudden movement dislodged a mud clump from her riding helmet, and it plopped onto her nose. The irritating man raised one dark eyebrow . His mouth twitched in a suppressed smile as he dabbed the mud with his thumb. It was a good thing she was still kneeling or she’d have crumpled to the ground in a heap of female hormonal mush.

“And you are?”

“I’m Mariah,” she croaked, feeling like an idiot.

“Well, Mariah, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thanks.”

Rodrigo straightened to his full height, leaving Mariah to stare at his belt buckle, tight jeans, and... Oh, my.

“Can you stand?” He didn’t wait for an answer but bent down to help her. Avoiding his touch,

Mariah scrambled to her feet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Concern gentled his brown eyes.

“I am. Really. I’ve fallen off many times. It’s nothing. Something in the woods scared my horse.”
“Can’t imagine what that would be.” He shrugged and looked away, shifting his weight from one cowboy boot to another.

Sueño, her gray gelding and the guilty party, wandered over and stuck his head between them. Mariah picked up his reins.

“Where did you...? I mean, how did you...?” Her brain couldn’t seem to form words. His amused grin didn’t help.

“I was walking along the road and saw you launched into the air like a human catapult. I ran over to check on you.”

“Thank you for helping me.” She wiped her face with the bottom of her T-shirt. She must look a fright. And she considered him scruffy?

“I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” A slight accent blended with the rich timbre of his voice. A handsome man with an accent made for an even more deadly combination.

Attempting to be inconspicuous, she rubbed her clammy hands on her thighs. Her horse stirred beside her, and she glanced at him. The big busybody hadn’t missed a thing. One furry ear swiveled to catch each tidbit of conversation. His eyes followed their every move with interest.

Mariah glared at Sueño. Maybe you’d like some popcorn and a beer while you watch me squirm? Whose side are you on? After all, who feeds you? Help me out here, will you?

Sueño shook his long forelock over his eyes and ignored her.

Copyright © 2008All rights reserved, Siren Publishing, Inc.

Cannot be reproduced in whole or in part in any form without expressly permitted to do so in writing from the publisher.

Life's unexpected twists and turns

Okay, I write a lot about being a horse mom, but I believe this moment pretty much defines it. I'm sitting outside the ring during my daughter's lesson, writing my blog draft on the inside front cover of a dinosaur coloring book. I've always heard when inspiration strikes a writer forages for any handy piece of paper. For an equestrian author, this often involves scribbling on horse show schedules or the paper used to keep kids occupied in between rides.

I'm looking over at my daughter sitting straight and tall, leg at the appropriate angle, for all the world defining what is meant by a natural seat. As young as she is her talent is already far outshining mine, so I'm sure I'll be scribbling on horse related paper for many years to come. At the moment I'm balancing writing and watching her for support without distracting her. Stopping in the middle of her lesson to wave at Mommy probably isn't on her instructor's list of things to do today! Of course, the fact my little girl laughs out loud sometimes with happiness while she's riding isn't on the instructor's list either, but it always makes her smile.

The fact that Susan, the heroine of my new novella (Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch), shares many of these experiences, makes her near and dear to my heart. Of course, just to make things even more interesting, I added a magical horse with a mischievous sense of humor and a head trainer who happens to be a witch. Toss in Susan trying to overcome a fear of horses to help her horse-crazy niece and her secret passion for handsome boarder Brad Conway and we have a recipe for a wild ride!

Here's a sneak peek:

Susan wrinkled her nose at the smell as she dragged the muck bucket, a large plastic bucket filled with soiled bedding, across the brick aisle of the beautiful barn. The stalls gleamed with a high finish on dark wood and were light-filled and airy. The building exuded an aura of class befitting the wealthy clientèle who boarded their horses here.

Leaving the bucket a few feet outside Jake’s stall door, she opened it and tentatively stepped inside. A large brown jumper stared her down.

“Now, look,” she said firmly. “We each have a job to do here.”

Alicia had told her that Jake, the horse now eyeing her with obvious evil intent, was just testing her. Unfortunately, his tests involved much stamping of his huge feet and dancing around while she tried to clean his stall.

“Okay, buddy.” Susan gathered her courage. “If you don’t behave this time I’ll have to take you out on the cross-ties while I clean your stall. Then you won’t have any hay to munch.” Susan planted her hands on her hips.

Susan and Jake continued to eye each other. Finally, Jake snorted with a shake of his head and returned to his hay. Triumphant, Susan turned to go back for the pitchfork and the bucket. A bump from Jake in the center of her back made her lose her balance. Flailing, she grabbed for the wall of the stall before landing spread-eagled across the bucket, which was now in the middle of the stall.

“Um, can I help you?” Dr Bradley Conway peered in the stall where she lay flapping like a fish out of water as she struggled to rise.

He placed one arm under her belly and her muscles tightened in response. He gripped her upper arm with his other hand and gently pulled. This can’t be happening, she thought as Dr. Conway gallantly levered her up onto her feet. He gently deposited her outside the stall and reached back in to tug the bucket through.

“Thank you.” Susan desperately wished the floor would open up and swallow her, but no such luck.

“No problem,” he hefted the bucket easily and deposited it in the corner. “I’m used to it.”

“You clean stalls?” Susan asked incredulously, and then bit her lip.

“Well, not lately, but as a kid I did plenty of them. Want some help?”

“Oh, no. I can handle it. Uh, how’s Jen doing in her lesson?”

“Alicia’s working her and Ritchie over a gymnastic. She’s loving it.”

“A gymnastic? Isn’t that the wrong sport?”

“Not in this case.” He laughed and she noticed deep creases by the sides of his mouth. He was too manly by far to have dimples. “Come look,” he added.

He placed a hand briefly at the small of her back to urge her forward. Just a common courtesy, Susan told herself as a warm tingle flowed through her core and down her arms. She preceded him through the wide doorway to the indoor riding arena.

Together they climbed the bleachers that lined one wall and were separated from the riding area by a low wall.

Casting about for something to say, Susan’s eyes lit on the ceramic owls set in the rafters in the four corners of the barn. “Interesting decoration.”

“What is?” Brad asked.

“Those,” Susan pointed at the nearest owl.

Looking where she indicated, Brad said “Ah, those aren’t decoration.”

“They’re not?” Susan frowned at them.

“Nope. The plan is to scare other birds out of here.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“Well, cleaning up after them isn’t a fun job.”

“Oh.” Knowing the odds of her being the one doing the cleaning, Susan looked back gratefully at the owls, then blinked. They had moved. Hadn’t they? They were in the center of each wall instead of the corners.

“Is anything wrong?” Brad was looking at her closely.

“No. Nothing.” Susan looked again. The owls were in the corners of the barn. I really have been working too hard, Susan thought. She glanced at the owls again and one winked at her.

Susan jumped sideways against Brad’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His arm came around her.

“Fine. Thanks. Um. . . do those owls have any moving parts?”

“I don’t think so.” Brad frowned at the owls.

“I just thought, you know, to scare the birds, they might have them move or something.”

“I’ve never heard of it, but good idea, though.” Brad grinned at her. “You should send the idea in to a horse magazine. Barn owners everywhere would be thanking you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Susan smiled back at him, forgetting the owls as she got lost in his warm hazel eyes. She must have just imagined the wink.

“See those?” His thigh brushed hers as he leaned forward to point toward the center of the ring.

Susan nodded, noting Jen astride the trotting Ritchie before looking to the area he indicated. Three jumps in relatively close succession were set up down the far side of the ring. The first was a cross rail fence Jen was used to jumping, followed by a straight rail that looked a little larger than what she was used to. It was the height of the last fence which had Susan sitting forward in alarm. “Jen’s not going to jump those three, is she?”

“Sure. That’s the gymnastic.”

Susan stared at Brad, all inhibitions lost. “How high is that last fence?”

“Well,” Brad considered a moment, “I’d say about two-nine to three feet.”

“What!” Susan jumped off the bench. “Jen’s never jumped that height before.”

“Relax, Susan. She’ll be fine.” Brad tugged her back down on the bench beside him. “Alicia knows what she’s doing. That’s the whole purpose of a gymnastic. The horse is set up correctly to jump so the rider can focus on her balance and strength over fences.”

“What if she loses her balance?” Susan’s small fingers gripped her knee.

“She’ll be fine. Alicia has the jumps spaced to be easy for Ritchie. This way Jen can focus on her position. Watch.” Gently Brad pried Susan’s fingers off her leg and held them loosely in his hand. Even through her agitation Susan’s body reacted to his touch and she glanced down at their joined hands before Alicia’s voice jerked her attention back to the drama at hand.

Hope you enjoyed this snipped from Never Trust a Matchmaking Witch. I had so much fun with this story! BTW, my daughter secretly organized the barn staff and other parents to sing Happy Birthday to me. I've just been serenaded. Even the horses looked attentive, if a bit confused. Sometimes we horse moms do get some unexpected rewards!

All the best,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

A Touch of Whimsy

One of the best aspects of a life lived with horses are the unexpected moments of laugh out loud fun. I’m currently working on a novella celebrating the whimsical side of the horse world. In this work I’m vastly enjoying creating two central characters: Jennifer, a horse crazy eleven year old and her Aunt Susan, who adores Jennifer as much as she fears horses.

When an opportunity comes to gain lessons for Jennifer and a free lease in exchange for working in a local trainer’s barn, Susan gathers her courage and faces her fears. Along the way she makes a few turnkey mistakes, including standing too close to the ring on a muddy day, turning her back on a mischievous lesson horse while a muck bucket is in front of her and trying to convince a mulish mare to move when the horse in question has something else in mind. Of course, the incredibly handsome man boarding at the facility happens to run into her when she has the scent of her misadventures wafting off her and bits and pieces clinging to her hair and clothes.

In creating this story I spent some time thinking about my mother’s role as horse mom. She loves me very much but is definitely not a natural horse person. Although the fear is real her heart is in the right place, as when we were shopping for a horse one cold day. We were considering one who didn’t have a blanket. Mom wanted to go out and buy him one whether we purchased the horse or not. In fact, she fretted about him all evening. For all her warmth and generosity, she was terrified when she was up close and personal with horses. My horse Topper used to love to nuzzle her if he was on the cross-ties and she was sitting on a tack box near enough. Her response was generally “Umm…good boy,” as she scooted out of reach. Since my husband and I didn’t have children at the time, I tried to convince her Topper was sort of like a grandchild, which earned him presents and an occasional pat from a very nervous hand.

Still, love came first and she hung in with me through all the years with horses. One day when I was about eleven I approached a jump from an impossible angle and my poor horse stopped at the base. I, unfortunately, did not stop but managed to grab his neck on my way off. I hung on and careened in a perfect one-hundred eighty degree arc to land on my feet facing his chest with my arms still wrapped around his neck! I figured Mom would be biting her nails, but when I looked over she was sitting on the hood of her car laughing her head off. Of course, so was everyone else at the sight of my long skinny legs sailing through the air and the bewildered look on my mount’s and my faces as we stood facing each other. If he could speak the horse would have said “Dear, you’re supposed to face the other way.” My fictional Jennifer and her aunt have the same experience—I just had to put it in there.

To further the touch of whimsy, the novella takes place on St. Patrick’s Day, which fits in perfectly with the wonderful myths and legends about horses. Of course, for fun I added a leprechaun and some lovable witches, one of whom owns the facility. A talented horse trainer, she keeps her magical interests to herself until one fateful evening. When Susan and Jennifer, along with the very handsome boarder who has his eye on Susan, are trapped at the farm during an ice storm, they encounter this cheerful magical crew planning their Spring Equinox celebration. The chaos is enhanced by a power outage and a thief conspiring to steal a rare Faberge egg. The results are romantic and hilarious!

Now all I need is a great title—not one of my strong suits. In fact, if anyone would like to suggest a title, just put your suggestion in the comments area. I'll pick a winner one week from today and give an autographed copy of A Dangerous Dream away as the prize.

Happy riding.

All the best,
Mary

www.marypaine.com

Jumping for Joy

Hi,

When I was in high school and considering different college programs, I remember my father saying “Whatever you do, make sure you like it, because you’re going to be doing it for a long time.” This was some of the best advice I’ve ever received, and I use it to this day. Writing is challenging and frustrating at times, but when everything comes together to create an exciting story, writing is absolutely wonderful.

I was lucky that both my horses loved their job as well. My first horse, Spencer, was never happier than when he was sailing over a course. He used to be turned out with two aged Morgans named George and Martha. He would gallop around them, away and back again, trying to get them to run and jump with him. George would occasionally lift his head, chewing slowly, with an expression that said ‘Spencer, you have to be kidding. Our running and jumping days are over, son.’ So Spencer would go off and do the jumps in the field on his own. The owner of the facility would sit on his back porch to relax and watch the turned-out Spencer jump for the sheer joy of it. His form over fences was very good, which told me where the talent was in our partnership. It was obvious he didn’t need me in the saddle to be a great jumper, but he loved me anyway, and we had the best time jumping together.

My second horse, Topper, used to be turned out in the indoor ring in the winter, and he did some breathtaking turns and jumps in there. He would probably have had a great time doing some jumper courses if he didn’t have a less than daring rider in the saddle (Ahem…that would be me). Being a kindhearted gentleman, he would instead take me over my comfortable hunter and equitation courses and never yawned once.

One year Topper had a leg injury. I went to an away show with my barn and rode my trainer’s old retired Grand Prix horse, Tron. He was a sweet, wonderful fellow who lived to jump, but arthritis was starting to keep him from the big fences. Occasionally my trainer would feel sorry for him and take a few big jumps to make him happy, but the next day Tron would come hobbling out of his stall. Given this, I thought he’d enjoy my small equitation fences, and he did seem quite proud taking me around my little course, although my husband mentioned Tron was finding the course challenging because he was trying to jump the fences instead of step over them. I ignored this probably accurate statement and listened for the class results to be announced. I was delighted to hear we’d won the division.

My husband and trainer both insisted that if I took Tron in any more classes I should gather my courage and try some higher fences, which would still be small from Tron’s perspective. I was pondering this option as I rode Tron back to the tent where he was stabled. We were relaxing, just plodding along on the hot summer day when suddenly Tron started dancing and sidestepping under me. His whole body was quivering. Startled, I looked up to see we were in front of the gate to the Grand Prix ring. He wanted to go in! He definitely had the wrong rider in the irons for a Grand Prix course. Gently, I urged him on and my heart broke when his head dropped disconsolately. Here, clearly, was a horse who loved his job and jumped for the sheer joy of it.

Now that Topper is in well deserved retirement, he’s still jumping, too. He lives on my in-law’s farm and one day my sister-in-law went to bring him in. She was reaching for the gate when Topper decided to save her the trouble and leaped over the gate to meet her on the other side. At five foot three, my sister-in-law ducked, but only barely needed to. After she got him in his stall, she went out and measured the fence he cleared. Five foot jumps was apparently still well within his abilities and he just wanted to let us know it!

On the days when writing is more like pulling teeth than a generous flow of words, I remember some of the amazing, talented horses I’ve ridden. Their dedication and love of sport run through my head with my father’s words “Do what you love.” I love writing and I love horses. I’ve been truly blessed.

Here’s to a wonderful week for everyone. Happy riding!

Cheers,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

Springtime with horses

Hello everyone,

Spring is in the air. Well, some days spring is in the air and other days snowflakes are, but I’m trying to be optimistic. These days with the change of season I think about the kids’ wardrobes and planting the garden. When I was riding competitively springtime had a whole different meaning. On one hand, it was lovely to work ride without freezing and having Topper jump a mile in the air as ice slide off the roof of the indoor. While riding outside I would love watching flowers bloom and trees turn a lovely fresh green.

On the other hand, Topper had an adrenaline rush his first few times outside each season that turned him into a wild thing. That part of springtime I used to dread. There was one day in particular when my trainer decided to slow him down by putting a bigger obstacle in front of him. Big mistake. He took off like a Grand Prix champ and cleared a 3 foot fence by another foot. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for this astonishing ride and promptly fell on his neck—which was entirely my fault— and then sailed off Topper to land on my head, which I suppose was the fault of gravity with a healthy assist from me.

Still, Topper and I would work through our excitement about the coming of spring in our own ways and come out as a team again, ready for another show season. I try to remember those moments when my deadlines get tight and my plate seems impossibly full. Life has moments of challenge, and a new season or a new project always has its interesting moments. Of course, life always looks better from the back of a horse, but it’s possible to use the ability to focus I learned as a horse person to plow through the myriad details of a busy life.

Here’s to spring and the changes life brings. Happy reading and happy riding!

Cheers,

Mary

www.marypaine.com

Driven

A peculiar thing happens to writers. Not immediately, you understand. But as we learn our craft and smooth the rough spots, the rhythms of writing start to become second nature. Then, suddenly, we find ourselves unable to read fiction or watch a movie without applying every tidbit we've gleaned from myriad how-to books, magazine articles, workshops, and conferences.

This may not seem like a big thing, but for me, the phenomenon comes close to obsessive. Imagine a family member's reaction when I groan about a story I'm reading: "Why did the author do that? It's not in character!" Or I turn and smile knowingly at my husband: "Did you see the way the screenwriter used foreshadowing?" or "Right there--that was the second turning point!"

But this is not a bad thing. The very fact that we as writers recognize the structure, symbolism, and end intent of another's work proves that we are growing--absorbing the sweat equity of those who have clawed their way to the top of the cliff and hoisted themselves over. A reward, if you will.

Every craft has its weirdness, and it takes a certain amount of "hermit-ness" to stay the course. But behind the drive to become published, a thought hovers in the back of every writer's mind as he or she reads a bestseller or watches a great movie--I can do this.

And do it, we do. At a full gallop! Romance and horses? You bet--horse people fall in love just like everyone else. And it takes a special kind of person to understand and absorb the routine and the dedication to caring for our beloved horses. Perhaps taking a backseat to this passion is the true test of a prospective suitor's mettle!

Horses and mystery. What a fabulous combination of forces that opens up endless possibilities for intrigue; suspense and edge-of-your-seat thrillers flourish in high-stakes areas of the horse industry. Just look at Dick Francis. Think those are only mysteries? Not on your spurs! I held my breath through every one of his books, always too close to the danger.

Add to these genres any one of the many issues that horse owners face and you have unique plots and characters that appeal to even the reader with only a passing interest in horses.

We write horse fiction because we love horses, we have to write, and we believe the two are a match made in heaven.

Tell us--what are your favorite romance, mystery, or thriller plots where horses reign? (no pun intended) What did you love? What "caught" you and held you captive through the story?

Until next time, keep those heels down.

Toni
http://www.tonileland.com