Yep, The Silver Spurs Home for Aging Cowgirls will be released on Christmas Eve. It will be ready for pre-order on Amazon once the cover has been completed in mid-November.
If you love The Gumboot & Gumshoe Series, then you are going to love this new gang of characters!
Don’t believe me, then check it out…
Better to ride a good horse for a year than an ass all your life. ~ Dutch Proverb
Sylvie O’Hara stared across the table at her old friend and nemesis, Maggie Carroll, as if she’d gone mad. A bottle of red Merlot stood empty between them, another bottle was three quarters gone. Their wine glasses were empty once again although Sylvie couldn’t remember drinking her last one. There were only two small orange cubes of cheddar cheese and one slice of dill pickle left on the tray of canapés. The sandwiches were long since depleted as were seven other bottles of Chablis, Cabernet-Sauvignon, and one lone bottle of Champagne.
It was Maggie’s seventieth birthday. She had insisted that there be no birthday cake. What Maggie wanted Maggie got so no one had brought one.
All the guests except for Sylvie had made their excuses and gone home, tired of Maggie’s callous flippancy as she got deeper into the bottle. Sylvie would have left too, but her husband had gone to the liquor store over an hour ago for more wine and still hadn’t returned. She had also never seen her friend drink so much. Maggie wasn’t taking seventy well.
“I’m telling you, Storm’s sperm count exceeds your Midnight Special’s by a hundred to one,” Maggie drawled. “Its obvious, darling, that despite his age, my Desert Storm is still virile and the far better stallion of the two.”
Sylvie was surprised by her ultra-classy friend’s behavior. While Maggie was known for her barbed words, she rare resulted to crudity. Well, Sylvie thought, she could be crude too when pushed.
“You don’t know that, Maggie,” Sylvie said, coming to the defense of her Hanoverian stallion, by using her empty wine glass as a pointer stick. “How could you really? Have you yanked my stallion off and performed a sperm count by hand?”
Maggie rolled her eyes at her friend as if she was the one who was mad.
“Ahhh, Miss Sylvia, I have my ways,” the brash salt and peppered haired woman murmured. “Where is your husband anyway? We’re almost out of wine.”
“He’ll be along soon, I’m sure.”
“Are you? Are you really?”
Sylvie glared at her friend. Whatever did she mean by that?
Sylvie examined her friend’s face. Maggie was still a very pretty and handsome woman thanks in large part to her heritage. She was a stunningly beautiful woman in her youth that the boys fell over left and right. Maggie’s heritage was African American, Spanish and Irish, her features blending together the best genes in all of them, the result of which was a sultry beauty with coffee cream skin, silky black hair, and deep and unfathomable dark brown eyes. Drunk, however, her eyelids drooped, and her jowls hung down like an iguana’s.
Sylvie’s own salt and pepper dark auburn hair and sky blue eyes were pale in comparison. In fact the kids at high school had nicknamed them Salt and Pepper as they were inseparable as teens. Using that term now would be politically incorrect, Sylvie supposed.
“You need to be more careful with your words, Maggie, someone might take offense and never speak to you again,” Sylvie jokingly replied as she refilled her glass, “especially when it concerns their pride and joy.”
What was keeping Cade?
“All right, I’ll tell you how I can prove my stallion is better than yours,” Maggie said, sticking her chin defiantly up in the air.
Maggie reached under the table for her purse, an outrageously priced and rather hideous leather Gucci bag with the Gucci trade mark stamped on it, nearly going head first into the wall in the process. She righted herself in a flurry of drunken movements the envy of any Navy corpsman and then yanked it open. She pulled out a small black and yellow tape measure.
“I measured him,” she yelled triumphantly, pulling the tape measure tape out of its holder and then letting the tape snap back in with a scratchy click.
“I measured him,” Maggie sneered.
“You can’t be serious,” Sylvie flared, shocked at her friend’s audacity. Even for Maggie, this was over the top.
“I snuck into your yard last year and measured the length of his dick. Your Midnight’s is two inches shorter than my Storm’s. It’s all relative. Everyone knows, the bigger the dick, the better the chances of the mare’s catching on the first go,” the drunken woman replied in earnest.
Sylvie was struck dumb.
How on earth could she reply to that?
Sylvie felt herself flush. She positively burned with fury. How could this woman who called herself a friend sit there and confess that she had sneaked like a thief in the night into Sylvie’s stable to jerk off her horse so that she could measure the length of his willie?
* Draft only. Copyright Laura Hesse 2019 All rights reserved.
** Based on a real conversation….you are just going to have to wait for the rest.
*** Yes, I know ‘snuck’ is incorrect grammer. lol We aren’t all grammatically correct in our speech.