Bark Twice for Danger is the third book in my Indiana-based cozy mystery series. Nala, pre-school teacher turned private eye, is paired up with a rescue dog, Max, who talks. He also helps her solve crimes, but the talking is what landed him at the shelter. People may think they want their dog to talk without realizing they may make brutally honest observations. This helps when tracking a perpetrator––not so much with the image of an adoring pet.

Max isn’t the only helper who Nala can call on. She is surrounded by quirky friends and over helpful relatives including her police captain father who reminds her there is a place at the academy with her name on it. Her mother’s main interest is pairing up her only daughter with a suitable man, this results in awkward situations.
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The person she turns to most is her high school friend, Elvin, who runs a digital security consulting, which allows his to showcase his computer hacking skills by breaking through firewalls, too. Bark Twice for Danger features her building mate, Harry, who runs a superhero costume business–––this is where the fun starts. Comic Con is coming to Indianapolis and Harry needs Nala to help him. Translation: dress up in a superhero costume and work the con. This happens at the same time identity thefts are sweeping the town of Noblesville.

My research included attending the three-day Comic Con with my daughter. We dressed up as Star Trek characters and had our picture taken with Jonathan Frakes. The research involved attending panels, handling live snakes, playing vintage arcade games, and standing in line at the food trucks with other costumed folks. Now, you might ask why even bother to attend?

I needed a feel for the building layout and security procedures. It also helped to get the general vibe of the whole event, which was an upbeat one. The next research trip of Max and Nala is Santa Claus, Indiana, best known for Holiday World theme park.

EXCERPT

What happens to a girl who can’t say no? Most people would assume she’d end up pregnant before her fifteenth birthday. The idea made Abby wrinkle her nose at the impossibility of that happening to her. It would involve someone asking her to do something more interesting than pet sitting their parrot or running papers to a client on her way home. Truthfully, she didn’t mind too much. She didn’t have children to drive to soccer practice or the need to start dinner for her partner when she got home from work. What she did resent was people assuming that since she had no life, she’d automatically do the things they had no time to do.

Delivering papers wasn’t in her job description. Technically it wasn’t on anyone’s in the office. The others were smart enough to make themselves scarce, while Abby merely took the papers and agreed to go out of her way to Carmel to deliver them before the end of the workday. The only perk was she got to leave early to arrive while the client’s office was still open.

After she delivered the papers, she exited the art deco building, only to almost bump into him. She couldn’t say she didn’t notice him. He was the type of male who drew all eyes to him by simply existing. He’d erupted into the parking lot riding a wave of sound and testosterone. Instead of a surfboard, his mode of transportation was a Triumph motorcycle. The bike drew her eye first. Back when she was barely thirteen, she longed for a motorcycle. Her fantasies, however, didn’t include her hanging onto some guy steering the bike. It was always her bike.

That dream had been squashed by her father, who pointed out that motorcycles were the quickest route to a wheelchair or a painful death. Saying her father was risk avoidant would be an understatement. In his work as a vehicle insurance adjustor, he had to speculate on how much damage a person could do to themselves and their vehicles and how much the company would be willing to cover. He applied the same lessons to raising his daughter. In short, her father’s philosophy of child-rearing was everything is dangerous, so don’t do it. Okay, maybe only the fun things were dangerous.
Still, there was the man on the bike. He probably felt her gaze on him, because after he parked close to the building, he lifted off his helmet and shook out his shoulder-length hair as if in a shampoo commercial. He did have gorgeous coffee-colored hair. Their eyes connected for the briefest second, but then she looked away, embarrassed at her ogling.

Mr. Gorgeous Hair headed her way with a smile that caused her to look behind her. No one was there. He held up his hand in greeting. “Ciao, Bella.”

“Hello.” She’d managed to squeeze out the single word.

He had a sexy accent, too, which just about made her combust on the spot. He’d waggled his eyebrows and gave a husky laugh that had her melting inside.

“Oh, that’s how it is. You’re going to act like you don’t know me.” He stopped to slant a seductive smile her way. “You were very friendly before.”

“Ah, I think you have me confused with someone else.”

He held up two fingers to his forehead as if saluting, then winked. “Who knows? We might meet again.”
​
Bark Twice for Danger releases today everywhere online at iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Amazon, KOBO, and Smashwords.

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http://BookShow.me/B07BZ4V5Q7/

Here's the blurb, if you want it.

Drift back in time with award winning S. R. Mallery, as she presents some excerpts––or “snippets”––from her different books. They range from an American family saga to full, historical adventures involving sewing; from a U.S. Civil War Romeo and Juliet couple defying all odds to a 1926 Old Hollywood romantic murder mystery; from both a colorful Western romance and a Nazi spy romance thriller to short stories that keep you guessing…. 

HERE’S WHAT THEY’RE SAYING ABOUT S. R. MALLERY

“S.R. Mallery is a gifted author who drew me into the story from the first word and kept me reading until the very last page.” –– Trudi LoPreto for Readers’ Favorite

“…her style lures the reader; you actually become part of her tapestry of expression.” –– Melinda Hines, Top Amazon Reviewer

“Master storyteller S. R. Mallery has a remarkable gift. The amazing ability to bring rich, historical events to life…” –– Geri Ahearn, Top Amazon Reviewerhttp://BookShow.me/B07BZ4V5Q7/

​Once Mark got the first half of the banner hooked up, Donna walked backward, stretching it across the porch. “Can’t wait to see this from the walk.”

“Me, too.” Mark carried the stepladder to where she stood to fasten the other end. The crunch of gravel signaled a car exiting the parking lot, probably one of the construction workers. How they ever expected to get done with all the coming and going they did puzzled her. Her dog walking neighbors strolled slowly past with their standard sized poodle. They stopped to peer at the banner. One even used the flat of his hand to shield his eyes.

Look all you want. Donna grinned at the men, knowing they couldn’t find fault with her latest banner.

The taller neighbor waved at her. “Hey, Donna!”

“Yes.” She puffed up a little, expecting a compliment.

“Did you change the name of the inn?”

Her expectant expression sagged with the oddness of the question. “Ummm… what do you mean?”

Her neighbor gestured to the banner. Donna cocked her head but had difficulty reading it so close. Mark had moved to the sidewalk to view the banner where Donna joined him. The large banner that she’d chosen with dice and player tokens to represent the gaming theme appeared fine to her.

One of the dog walkers moved closer and gestured toward the porch. “I’m not against changing the name. I think The Painted Laddy is more unique. Pushes the envelope some.”

Donna narrowed her eyes at the word in question. It did have two Ds! “Sugar! It’s too late to have it reprinted.”

Her neighbor shrugged and returned to his companion and dog. She could hear their combined laughter as they strolled away.

Mark wrapped an arm around her stiff shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. People see what they want to see. It took you a while to see the mistake, and you were trying to find it. Maybe you can even make it into a game for your guests.”

Just like him to make an accident into something good. “Yeah, I guess I could. Most of the guests will look at the banner briefly. It would be a bigger deal if I were in the business district and everyone was staring at it. If nothing else, it will teach me to look before paying for it.”

Instead of answering, Mark squeezed her shoulder and turned his head to dust a kiss across her hair. He could be the sweetest man. Contentment wrapped around her, chasing away her momentary frustration. She wanted to rest forever in the moment and savor it. Before she even worked herself into the savoring part, Ten’s tall figure rounded the left corner of the inn. He waved, then joined them on the sidewalk.

Donna noted the direction her employee came from. It didn’t take her excellent sleuthing ability to know Ten had been watching the construction workers as opposed to folding the laundry as she asked. Unaware of her thoughts, Ten put both hands in his pockets and nodded.

“What are you all staring at?”

“Nothing,” Donna answered, curious if her employee could pick out the mistake that had her so flustered only minutes ago.

Ten stared in the direction of the banner. “Your early guest came complete with costume.”

Mark made a pretend groan, which earned him a poke from his wife. “Oh, boy. See what I have to look forward to?”

“Come on. These are people who play board games. How bad can they be? Was he wearing his costume?”

“Nope. He had this large unicorn mask under his arm. Imagine trying to get that through airport security.”

The question wasn’t a serious one, but Mark decided to answer anyway. “Nothing wrong with a costume unless it has a great deal of metal on it.”

Instead of joining the conversation, she held up her hand. Something was different. She couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Listen. Do you hear it?”

“What?” Mark dropped his arm and turned around in a slow circle. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. The jackhammer stopped.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Maybe they’re finished.”

​A long scream sounded from the inside the inn. The three of them looked at each other and broke into a run.

​Pamela Watkins
 
My Chihuahua only weighs around 2 pounds. We have a fairly big back yard. I go out with her at night because of the owl and other vermin lurking around. One night she goes prissing down our ramp, barking all the way. Now this is the norm for her as she thinks she is a Great Dane! She gets out in the yard by the cars and trucks, me with her holding the flashlight. About the time she finds her spot, a pine straw touched her backside. She started yelping like she was dying and nearly ran me over getting to the back door! Of course nothing was wrong with her. Her nickname is the Princess for a reason!!

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Lucia Whitten
My favorite dog story is when our golden retriever saved our now 14-year-old cat, who was about 4 weeks when we found her. She was close to death but was able to let out a meow we heard from down the street. The vet did all they could and we took her home praying for the best. Our dog cuddled, cleaned, warmed, protected, and loved that little kitten until she was healed. Miss our dog Leo but we still have Lucky around.

​Libby Adams
 
We absolutely LOVE Yorkshire Terriers.  All the ones we have had have all been remarkable, but the first one we ever had was the most remarkable of all.  Her stories are many, as she was very intelligent and loved attention, especially my husbands (her “dad”).  She was always going for rides with him, and if he got out of the car and she felt she could have gone with him, she would stand on the driver’s seat and give him “what for” when he got back.  You would think she was about to bite your arm off if you dared come near, but we knew it was all show.  Once, he took her to a store that sold ice cream.  It was their habit to sit on the tailgate and share the ice cream and greet people as they went by.  This one day, she would not have anything to do with the ice cream.  He kept trying to coax her but she just kept looking around and ignoring him.  He noticed no one had said anything to her but didn’t think anything about it, until someone finally walked by and said something to her.  That was what she was waiting for because she immediately started begging for the ice cream!  She was such a social butterfly.

​Renee Collins
 
Our son had a wonderful dog he named bear...apparently, he was part chow and part lab...as a pup, he was dumped off in our daughter’s Texas neighbourhood when we were visiting from PA. We advertised and went door to door...no one claimed him. So he returned with us.  Bear was a loveable dog...we had him for three years before we rehomed with a family...reason? If we let into fenced back yard, he would find a way out and always go to the same house where there were numerous children to run and play with...you see, I was working full time, teaching at a grad school part time, and working on my doctorate. Of six kids, all were out on their own or in college. My husband was full time military...the saddest thing was when he played by himself...seriously...he would run up the stairs with a ball in his mouth and throw it down the stairs, run and chase it...bear would do this for hours. We finally managed to get all together and have a family conference. Tears were shed, but we all felt that he needed more than we could offer. We were fortunate to have help to find him a forever home with a loving young family.  He’s crossed the Rainbow Bridge now. We were also fortunate enough to be able to visit him...and be his go to Home if his family went on a holiday.
 
Second story:
Before Bear
 
In my first year of the master’s program, I meant a family with a litter of Jack Russells. I fell in love with the tiniest one...however, they told me he was sold. Three days later, I was called and told the other family did had changed their minds. I 


Picked him up...the boys promptly called him Einstein.  That same day we were setting up our Christmas Tree. Einstein trained me right away to sit down when he wanted on my lap for a cuddle. By day 5... I had lost him.  Little Einstein decided he had found himself a boy...and chose to be our youngest son’s dog instead.  He had found his forever partner.  Those two were together whenever Randyl was not at school or work...they showered together, slept together, and delivered pizza together.  
 
When Randy’s fiancé moved into his upstairs apartment in our house, he became Amy’s baby too.  By that time Randy was a full-time mechanic saving money to buy his own garage. One day a young lady he rescued at the side of the road by repairing her car, followed him home. Unfortunately, she went up to Randy’s apartment and tried to “make time with Randy” with Amy sitting there.  Amy came running down stairs crying saying she didn’t know what to do. We talked and established that our son was ignoring her...only speaking to her to tell her to leave...all the while Amy was crying and cuddling Einstein. So Amy and Einstein went back up...and that smart little doggie (whom had never peed in the house in his life), climbed up on the back of the sofa, calmly walked behind the young woman, raised his leg...and peed right down her back! She shrieked, grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs. And out the door.  Within seconds, Amy & Randy literally stumbled and rolled down the stairs laughing and Einstein just pranced and proudly strutted after them...I am sure he was saying...I saved my boy and my girl!
 
We no longer have Randy, Einstein or Amy. Fifteen years ago, Randy was killed by drunk drivers as he was walking down the road. Amy eventually married and had children. Einstein, I am sure died of heart break.  He waited everyday by the door for Randy to come home.  We tried everything. He lingered for six months, then died.  But we have such happy memories now--of both Einstein and Randy.  I am sure they are playing, running, and having fun...

Thanksgiving, like so many family holidays, can be filled with good and embarrassing memories. One of my students told me that her two uncles had engaged in a fight that knocked the food off the table. The family was happy that they did managed to save the turkey that year.

No, I have nothing that dramatic to tell. My memory tells my age if nothing else. Every major holiday we made the trek to my grandmother’s house. Not sure how the rest of my family felt about this, but I loved it because I loved my grandmother and she was the best cook ever. If it involved food, who wouldn’t want to visit her?

For this food intensive holiday, my aunts brought side dishes to help out the spread. My mother made her famous yeast rolls that were divine. Because we were a big family, the kids had to eat at the children’s table on the sun porch. This was another plus since we didn’t have to be quiet while the adults conversed. Usually, there was laughter and the occasionally thrown roll, which resulted in an uncle suggesting in a deep voice from the other room that we should “Pipe down.”

At the end of the glorious meal, my grandmother would reveal a half dozen pies she had baked, including my favorite, coconut cream pie. After consuming enough calories for a family of four, my uncles and father staggered off to the living room to watch football, which was often code for a nap.

My boy cousins vanished outside to play in the chill temperature and the babies were put down for a nap in the guest bedroom among the discarded coats. The women and girls crowded the narrow kitchen for clean-up detail. It was difficult maneuvering in the crowded kitchen and I often got underfoot. I was too short to reach anything and would never have been allowed to touch the good china.
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The arched kitchen doorway revealed my father in the living room comfortably seated on the couch and laughing at something my uncle had said. I made my decision then and dashed for sanctuary. I snuggled in by my father’s side while my mother attempted to lure me back into the kitchen in a low voice, attempting not to make a scene.

My father wrapped his arm around me and insisted he wanted me there. In that moment, he inadvertently confirmed my decision to do what I wanted as opposed to what was expected of me.

This year will find me in the kitchen, but I’ll solicit everyone’s help regardless of gender. When it comes to china, we’ll use Chinet and everything else will go into the dishwasher. In a moment of holiday rebellion, I considered ordering Chinese takeout but didn’t want the bloating. The day after Thanksgiving when many women crowd the shopping venues, my daughter and I will suit up in our form-fitting Star Trek uniforms (which explains why I didn’t want any bloating) to volunteer at Star Trek Con. So, maybe I did carry on the legacy of doing what I wanted and not what was expected of me, encouraged by my father.

Are you listening, Dad? I resolve to live long and prosper this Thanksgiving.

What is your fondest holiday memory?

Everyone has a wedding disaster story. In honor of Weddings Can Be Murder, I've asked readers about their stories. The tale of the bride's veil catching on fire really did happen to our church organist. I've heard tales of best men throwing up or passing out due to locking their knees. There have been flower girls who refused to go down the aisle and ring bearers who lost the rings. Then, there's the groom's mother who dressed all in black to  protest the wedding or choice of bride. Let's take a look at some of the readers' tales in their own words.

The first story is from Carol Dickey. Thanks, Carol.
 
I had some junior bridesmaids, and they all had long full-skirted red peau de soie dresses.  My fiance's nephews were the candle lighters, aged 8 and 10.  They gleefully chased the girls through the church with the long lighters, resulting in long black streaks the length of the skirts.  Luckily this was discovered before the wedding started, some pins were found, and the fabric was folded over to hide the streaks.  It was several years, however, before we found out what really happened--we thought they had brushed up against something.  The boys, now men, still chuckle over the incident, 53 years later.

:The next story is from Janet. I appreciate the contribution.
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The best wedding story I have happened at my brother's outdoor wedding.  They scheduled it at ten, forgetting that the first Saturday of the month was when the tornado sirens are tested. Yup, right on time.
 
Just as things settled down, the park was buzzed by a helicopter. Who knows why.
The icing on the event was when a large dog came barreling around the tree line, making a beeline for our oldest (80ish) aunt. It looked like he was trying to crawl into her lap.  The dog was followed by a voice calling its name, and a jogger coming around said tree line. He stopped dead in his tracks and the stunned look on his face was worth the price of admission....... 

Our final story comes from Ruth, which is also priceless.

If you are looking for wedding disasters...mine was a comedy of errors...the funniest moments had to do with my bouquet.  I am allergic to most flowers so I was carrying a bead and wire bouquet I made up myself.  It was not properly finished and spent the day attaching itself to things....and not letting go. 

The best two moments were when it attached to someone who had done a reading for us...he hugged me after doing the reading and when he went to back away my dress tried to go with him as the wires had attached to his tie on one side, and my dress on the other. 

The second great moment was when the officiant told me to hand my bouquet off to my attendants.  I calmly, clearly and firmly said no.  When our reader had been detached it was merely from his tie, and not from my dress, so I really could not hand off the bouquet as it was still attached to me.  I had to explain that after the officiant repeated, and explained why, I had to pass off my bouquet.  My sister had detached our reader.  My sister and our officiant detached me. 

Weddings mishaps are a way of testing our sense of humor. What's important is that you laugh at it years later. Now, my husband and I were married in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator and it was far from a disaster, although we had  an anxious showgirl bride behind us who kept peeking in the chapel certain our ceremony was running into her time slot or perhaps her groom might back out. 

About two months ago, I had the idea we could drive somewhere to see the total eclipse. Only problem was I happen to be about four months behind everyone else who had made similar plans. These individuals were excellent long-term planners. I mention the possibility of going somewhere to see the eclipse to my husband. His reply was he had considered it six months ago.

Too bad, he didn’t share that info.  This left me waffling between Carbondale, Illinois and Hopkinsville, KY. What I thought would be a day event that would cost us the price of gas turned into much more. Available rooms were running from $300-$600 for a bare bones hotel room. This was so out of our price range. I was ready to give up with a heartfelt sigh knowing this might be my only chance to see a 100% percent totality when my daughter, who works for a large hotel chain, started contacting people she knew in the totality cities.

A cancellation occurred. Instead of going through a website or calling a hotel phone number. I was given a name and a phone number, which made me wonder if this was a little like making a black-market deal. After talking briefly to a charming stranger, I surrendered my credit card number. Yeah, it sounded sketchy and my husband wondered if we really had a reservation.

Sunday arrived and my husband wanted to sleep in on the one day of the week he could. I, on the other hand, wanted to get on the road. We did leave much sooner than anticipated and found I-65 slow going due to an increased traffic and road construction, then there were the wrecks. We made it to Bowling Green before the highway was closed. Yay for insisting on leaving early.

Bowling Green where our hotel was located appeared calm considering all the hype the media had predicted. Most of the hotel guests sported NASA or Eclipse shirts and huge grins. A few cars were even decorated with Totality or Bust signs. Since we were in central time zone, we didn’t expect the eclipse to start until after twelve, but that didn’t stop us from getting on the road to our viewing location at eight am. We soon realized we waited too late as we found ourselves in a lengthy line that wasn’t moving.

Instead of Hopkinsville and paying fifty dollars to stand in a parking lot to view the Eclipse, we opted for the Franklin Drive-In in Franklin, KY. The family owned business charged five dollars a person for entry. This gave us a parking space to set up our camp.

Most people had brought chairs, canopies, even camp tables. The mood among my fellow attendees was upbeat and excited. While waiting in line for a snow cone, I discovered the woman in front of me drove from Pittsburgh and the one behind me Texas. Franklin besides being one of the areas still available for viewing, also was probably the cheapest.

Children milled around the reflector telescopes set up for viewing the sun. The Drive-In had a live feed from NASA, that was sometimes hard to hear due to people talking, the truck next to us playing Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, dogs barking, and a parrot squawking. In other words, it was a circus under an intense sun with temperatures spiking to 96 degrees with heavy humidity.

Most everyone had their eclipse glasses pushed back on their head or tucked into their shirt to be ready for the moment. No one wanted to take a chance of missing anything while they waited in line for a cheeseburger or for the restrooms. The first announcement came that the moon was passing in front of the sun. The eclipse had started, which forced some people to give up their place in line and hurry back to their sites.

Back at Camp Eclipse, which is what I referred to our site as, my husband had pulled the chairs out from under the canopy and into the driving lane to get an unobstructed view of the eclipse.  Blankets decorated the hoods and roofs of cars as people climbed onto their impromptu viewing platforms. Others rushed to get their expensive cameras focused. A few had telescopes they’d brought. Most though, had cheap cardboard and plastic glasses to view this cosmic phenomenon that was years in the making.

Since I wear prescription lenses, I had to attached the eclipse glasses to my regular ones with the result being I sometimes saw two eclipses happening if I turned my head a certain way. Without the glasses, All I saw was the late summer sun beaming down on us. (Not that I looked at it directly.)

A cloud drifted over the sun blocking it briefly causing the group to hold their collective breath until it moved on seconds later. Even though there were other clouds in the sky, none ever threatened the view again. It may have been group intention that kept the clouds at bay. The weather report leading up to the eclipse kept changing from possible thunder storms to cloudy. It an area known for rain, cloudy is a given. Instead, we had blue skies with some high wispy clouds.

The employees who had been busy selling ice cream and souvenir t-shirts came out from their buildings and donned their glasses to join the group. Amazingly, the babies stopped crying, the dogs ceased barking, and I didn’t even hear the parrot as the moon passed over the sun. When totality was reached, the cicadas and crickets broke into a full-throated chorus as if part of Mother Nature’s light show.

The temperature dropped as the sky darkened draping the watchers in twilight.  At the edges of the horizon you could see light. It had a dawn-like appearance, but was instead the areas not in the slender band of totality.

A lovely sparkling crown showed around the moon, allowing watchers to remove their glasses for a brief two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Once the moment ended, the guy next to us jumped in his car and was gone. Obviously, he knew there would be traffic issues with so many people trying to leave the area.

We stayed and enjoyed the rest of the eclipse while people packed up around us. The PA system announced that eclipse glasses were only a dollar for those who wanted a souvenir of the event. Eventually, we made the decision to leave deciding that most of the folks had left, which should make getting home easier. Think again.

Police directed us way from the road we were going to use. Country back roads were packed with baffled eclipse chasers trying to find their way home. Unfortunately, with so many people, accidents happened, highways were closed, even the bridge to Indiana closed briefly.
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We found ourselves in a Wendy’s restaurant in Henderson, Kentucky talking to other stymied travelers who were trying to get home. We all agreed despite the resulting traffic chaos, that it was without a doubt totally worth it.

Summer Top Ten List
School is starting across the state, but no school appears to start at the same time. There are a few days left for me to eek out some summer activities. Here’s my top ten must do. I’d love to hear what yours are.

1. Outdoor Concerts
2. Shakespeare in the Park
3. Gene’s Root Beer Stand
4. Eating Outside (in the park, at a restaurant, at home)
5. State Fair
6. Staying out after dark and watch the fireflies come out
7. Beach vacations (These are good anytime.)
8. Swimming followed by floating in the water
9. Evening rides in the convertible
10. The free time to read a book cover to cover without interruption.

​Here’s an excerpt from A Bark in the Night set in Indianapolis and it takes place in the summer. Surprise!

Nala searched her mind for how she had treated Max in the few days she owned him. Had she offended him somehow by treating him like a dog? “You never answered how you came to talk.”

“Oh, that.” He managed a few sharp yips that resembled a laugh. “Funny story. My first owner was a close-mouthed male. Not one to share his feelings or general observations about life. While this didn’t bother me all that much, it was an entirely different story for his girlfriend, who happened to be a witch. She always fixed extra scrambled eggs and bacon for me when she visited, so I liked her. Anyhow, one day, she says to the man, ‘If you don’t talk to me, then your dog will.’”

“Just like that?”

“Took me a while to become a good conversationalist. At the time, I was so excited I voiced every thought.” He lifted his head enough to display a doggy grin. “Imagine a constant litany of me listing everything I saw. Tree, grass, dog poop from the poodle two houses down, smells like she likes me. After all, she left it in front of my house. Well, you get the idea.”

“Irritating.”

“Yep, I discovered immediately that while people yack non-stop, they don’t appreciate a talkative dog, especially my first owner who didn’t even make the effort to talk to his girlfriend. One day, she was gone. Not sure if they agreed to separate. I just noticed the house smelled less like the sandalwood incense she always burned. After that, I got relocated, too.”

Want to read more? Available on Amazon, iTunes, BN, and Smashwords.

Participating Authors Summer Blogs

​Check out LaNora Magano

Check out Teresa Keefer

Check out Lisa Caviness

Check out Author J J Devine

EXCERPT

“Let’s hit it.” Nala dropped the leash and allowed Max to wander at will while she withdrew window cleaner, a rag, and some press-on letters. Her first project would be the exterior door.

“I’m not sure about the clear glass. If a person wants privacy they don’t want everyone and their cousin peering in at them as they come to me to consult about a philandering husband or wife.”

“Do people even do that anymore? I just thought they divorced, divvied up the stuff, and sometimes offloaded the family pet to a friend, relative, or took him for a ride in the country.”

Nala blinked, knowing good and well no one else was in the office. She dropped her gaze to Max who had his head cocked as if waiting for her answer. No, it couldn’t be. Dogs don’t talk, at least not in a raspy baritone. She pinched herself just to be certain she wasn’t dreaming. It hurt. Maybe she just thought he said something. The best thing would be to test out her theory. “Did that happen to you? Did your owners divorce?”

Something must have happened to Max since she had picked him up at an animal shelter the day before he would have been put down. Grown dogs were only kept for a few days at the most. Then again, it could be she wanted Max to talk so she’d have someone to converse with. A fellow traveler in this new life she plotted out for herself.

“Nope.” He grimaced, showing his teeth. “I made the mistake of talking again. Not the first time I’ve been ousted from a comfortable home. This last time I was driven from the house by my former owner holding a crucifix and calling me devil dog.”

“Weird. I would have thought someone would have put you on the David Letterman show. Whoops, I keep forgetting he retired.” Was she really having a conversation with her dog?

“You’d think that.” He barked a couple of times before continuing. “You gotta remember English is my third language and some things don’t translate.”

“You speak three languages?”

He lifted his nose with pride. “I do. Dog, of course, the silent language of scent, and I’m reasonably conversant in English. One potential owner tried to speak to me in German. Despite my muddied bloodlines, I couldn’t understand a word he said. I wanted to tell him I was born in America. I didn’t, since I wasn’t totally sure.”

“Ah, of course.” She nodded her head as if she understood. Was there anything understandable about a talking dog? “So, when did you start talking? Are there a lot of talking dogs out there?”

His nose dropped as he stretched out and laid his head on his paws. “All dogs talk, except for the Basenji who do this weird yodeling thing. I haven’t met one who speaks English, although most do understand it very well. They might pretend not to know phrases such as stay off the couch, not for you, or not now. They do. Even though they understand English, they freak out when I say something. Something about it being us against them, meaning, your kind.”

“Ah.” Nala searched her mind for how she had treated Max in the few days she owned him. Had she offended him somehow by treating him like a dog? “You never answered how you came to talk.”

“Oh, that.” He managed a few sharp yips that resembled a laugh. “Funny story. My first owner was a closed mouth male. Not one to share his feelings or general observations about life. While this didn’t bother me all that much, it was an entirely different story for his girlfriend, who happened to be a witch. She always fixed extra scrambled eggs and bacon for me when she visited, so I liked her. Anyhow, one day, she says to the man, ‘If you don’t talk to me, then your dog will.’”

“Just like that?”

“Took me a while to become a good conversationalist. At the time, I was so excited I voiced every thought.” He lifted his head enough to display a doggy grin. “Imagine a constant litany of me listing everything I saw. Tree, grass, dog poop from the poodle two houses down, smells like she likes me. After all, she left it in front of my house. Well, you get the idea.”

“Irritating.”

​“Yep, I discovered immediately that while people yak non-stop, they don’t appreciate a talkative dog, especially my first owner who didn’t even make the effort to talk to his girlfriend. One day, she was gone. Not sure if they agreed to separate. I just noticed the house smelled less like the sandalwood incense she always burned. After that, I got relocated, too.”

The first question someone might ask a culinary cozy mystery author is if the author cooks. It’s a legitimate inquiry. Would you suspect someone who writes about dog care, but doesn’t own a pet. Both Charles Schulz, Peanuts creator, and Jim Davis, Garfield cartoonist, did not own the pets they drew. Susan Lucci, the actress, did not embody the wickedness that made her character, Erica, so watchable on All My Children soap opera either. Unfortunately, she got tons and tons of hate mail because of her spot-on acting. Some people are great at conveying something they aren’t. I’m not.

My mother chased me out of the kitchen not wanting me in the way, but my grandmother invited me in. She’d married at fifteen and had no clue how to cook much to her husband’s regret. It took years for her to perfect her cooking skills, which allowed her to support herself after her husband’s early demise. She wanted me to learn how to cook as soon as possible.

My first paying job consisted of making salads and desserts. Unlike most teens, who felt working in dietary was on par with purgatory, I loved it. My efforts showed and the nursing staff let me know they missed me when I was gone. On my days off, there were no chef salads or rich Better than Sex chocolate cake. I made head cook in a brief time, which was slightly uncomfortable for me since the other cooks were middle aged.

I went on to cook for pay another decade and even took on some waitressing jobs too. While my friends would read their horoscopes in magazines, I checked out the recipes. Most folks were hooked on popular sitcoms, I watched Rachel Ray and the Iron Chef. I even dated a chef briefly, but surprisingly he didn’t like to talk about food or cook since it was his job.

So, yes, I like to cook, but because I cook I’m aware of the puffery of cooking. People who use terms such as Bain-marie instead of water bath. I refuse to do this in my books. There are recipe ingredients that I’d never find unless I drove the three hours to Jungle Jim’s International Grocery. Then there is the time involved in making certain dishes too. (I only make stuffed grape leaves once a year because I don’t look forward to spending an hour stuffing and rolling grapes leaves. I always make a big batch because there’s no sense in making a small one.) Donna, my sleuth in The Painted Lady Inn Mysteries series, would probably pass on the grape leaves due to being busy running an inn and solving murders.

With this is mind, I search for recipes that have easy obtainable ingredients, clear instructions, and limited preparation time, then I tweak them to make them mine. I’m still using the easy fudge recipe I learned in scouts that has only two ingredients. Ironically, my family prefers it over the harder to make and slightly grainy traditional fudge. Unlike, Charles Schulz, who never owned a beagle, I do own a dog like Jasper and I do cook.

My cooking misadventures sometimes end up in the books too. I forgot to turn on the oven for salmon crabcakes. I ended up frying them and when that didn't cook them through, I microwaved them, so we could eat before eight pm. Look for that in book seven, Weddings Can be Murder, which will be out in August 2017.

There’s a lot of my mother in Donna, and perhaps a little bit of me too, especially the cooking part.

​Super Easy Fudge
Prep:10 minutes
Set-up: 60 minutes
Servings: depends on how much you like fudge, but at least twelve.
Ingredients
1-12 oz. package of high grade semi-sweet or dark chocolate chips. (The cheaper the brand the grainy it will be. Milk chocolate doesn’t set up as well.)
1 can 14 oz. sweetened condensed milk (I use Eagle, but it depends on what is available in your area.)
Butter
Directions

• Butter an 8x8 square pan. (Make sure to get the sides too.)
• Use a heavy sauce pan (4 quart works better.) Place on medium low burner. Pour in chocolate chips and stir with a wooden spoon to assist in uniform melting.
• When the chips are melted and gooey, slowly pour in the milk while stirring. When it is all the same color, it is time to pour it into your pan.
• Cover the pan with foil and place in the fridge for 60 minutes to set-up. (You’ll be lucky if it stays in the fridge that long if your family knows it’s there.)

 
You can add in nuts just before you pour it into the pan if you want to.