Two writers in one. Daryl Devoré writes hot romances with sexy heroes and strong heroines and sweet romances with little to no heat. She has several published books available on Amazon in ebook or print book and available at other book retailers via Books2Read.

Daryl ( @daryldevore ) lives in an old farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and 2 cats. Daryl loves to take long walks on her quiet country road or snowshoe across the back acres, and in the summer, kayak along the St. Lawrence River. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth, and a meteorite. She’s been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a helicopter, and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life’s an adventure and Daryl’s having fun living it.

Author Interview – Daryl Devore – Romance Author

I started out doing a Character Interview for this post, but as this is a 3-book collection, I had 3 alpha males all trying to answer and then the women wanted their turns. So, I bailed, and did an Author Interview.

Beverley: Which genre or genres do you write or prefer to write? And why?

Daryl: Well, as you know, Daryl, I primarily write romance, but in several different sub-genres. But during quarantine, I started a cozy mystery – but don’t tell anybody. It is nowhere near being completed.

Beverley: Who influenced you the most in deciding to become a writer?

Daryl: No one. Right? It was pretty well me saying, “Let’s give this a try. How hard could it be?” LMAO, now!

Beverley: What gets your creative juices flowing?

Daryl: The little muse who lives inside my head. I can suffer through droughts of no working on my latest WIP and then all of a sudden, the muse has it figured out and several chapters just pour out of me.

Beverley: Do you have a favorite cartoon character? Why?

Daryl: Road Runner! Why? Beep! Beep!

Beverley: Who would you love most to meet ‘in person’ and why?

Daryl: Queen Elizabeth. I’d love her to drop by, take off her crown, kick off her shoes, sit back and just chat. She must have some amazing stories.

Beverley: If you had an unexpected free day what would you do with it?

Daryl: LOL – Exactly what I am doing today – getting caught up on blogs and interviews and book promotions. Oh, you meant if I didn’t have any writing related stuff to do. Depends on the time of year. Summer, I can just sit and chill in my garden. Winter, I can just sit and chill on a beach and listen to the waves.

Beverley: What are you working on now?

Daryl: About 5 things at a time. I have just released this collection. I have 2 more collections waiting in the wings. Before they are released, my medieval fantasy romance will be coming out. Plus, I am changing my books written under Victoria Adams to under my name, so there is some updating and making new covers for those 4 books. Plus, I am writing a new story which is an offshoot from the medieval fantasy romance that comes out in January. It’s going to be a while before that book is ready to be released. Plus, there is the cozy mystery waiting and 8 or 9 starts on books.

Beverley: Well, you sure are busy.

Daryl: I know! How did I get into this situation?!?!

Beverley: Hoping that’s a rhetorical question.

Daryl: Le sigh. Well, off to choose an excerpt for this post. 3 stories to pick one from. Wish me luck.

Blurbs

If you love hot, billionaire romances, then Daryl Devoré’s collection is a must read. Three of her hottest billionaire romances bundled into one smouldering collection.

Desires – When secrets conflict with dreams, love explodes.

After a mistake by a surgeon’s scalpel shattered Fuchsia Quinn’s dance career, she picked up the pieces of her life and moved forward.

Peyton Lang, having run from an impoverished neighbourhood, lives the lifestyle of a successful billionaire.

Frustrated that his current multi-million-dollar project is stalled, Peyton drops in to LEATHER-ICIOUS for a quick drink and late night entertainment. What he saw was a beautiful redhead. What he found was he wanted her.

Two O’clock with the Billionaire – Sometimes, a woman has to do what a woman has to do.

Where Derek Davenport is concerned, women only had one thing in mind: trap him into a marriage.

Unemployed and nearing financial desperation, Arianne is forced to step out of her comfort zone. With minimal hours and excellent pay, she accepts the position of courtesan to a handsome billionaire.

Their sexual antics cause emotions neither is willing to admit. Will Arianne and Derek drive each other crazy…or will they fall in love first?

Two Truths and Lie – The legend of Robin Hood and Maid Marian with a twenty-first-century twist.

As if multiple planes crashes, a car accident, and a concussion isn’t enough, carefree Byn and straight-laced billionaire, Mark clash over Byn’s need for independence and Mark’s struggle with guilt pushing him in the opposite direction of love. When an art forger, an art thief and a ninety-year-old woman get involved the chance for true love for Byn and Mark fades.

All is lost until a children’s game is their only hope.

Scene Set – This is from Two Truths and a Lie . Mark offers to fly Byn home on his private jet. She slept on a sofa bed in the cabin.

I paused next to the dining room area table. On it was a large coffee machine with a timer set to start in five minutes. Next to that was a tray with a silver cover. I peeked under the lid. On a plate were muffins and Danishes.

Five minutes until the coffee started brewing. I could wait. I grabbed a muffin to snack on and returned to the bed and nestled back down. I lay next to Mark and listened to the soft sound of his breathing.

Why had the fates thrown us together? What could the Universe have in mind by pairing a cat burglar and a billionaire? It would probably make for a great romance, but right now it just seemed bizarre.

The first hint of coffee drifted across the air. My stomach rumbled. It recognized the smell. I slipped out of the warmth of the bed, put a couple of muffins on a plate and placed two mugs next to the coffee maker. After filling both cups, I stared at Mark’s coffee. The first coffee of the day was important. Get it wrong and the whole day would be ruined. I tried to visualize the coffee he’d drunk at the airport. Was it black? Light brown?

I, mentally, crossed my fingers for luck and poured in some cream. I hesitated by the sugar and decided he wasn’t a sugar user. I collected the mini breakfast, placed it on the end table next to the bed and settled back with my coffee.

Ahhh . That first sip of the day. In a few heartbeats, caffeine surged, slapping sleeping cells awake.

“Did you bring me one?” His voice held a teasing note.

“I brought myself two, but I’m guessing I could share. It’s got cream, no sugar. I wasn’t sure…”

“Perfect.” He rolled over and sat up, leaning against the back of the couch-bed. He yawned, rubbed his face then accepted his coffee.

“Muffin?” I held out the plate. “Blueberry or lemon poppy seed. I ate the chocolate chip one.”

“You ate the chocolate chip one? Oh, gawd, woman. How could you?” He grabbed the lemon poppy seed muffin.

“Um… I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I—”

He tilted back his head and laughed. “Drink more coffee. You’re too easy to get first thing in the morning.”

“Ah. This is how it’s going to be.” I grinned.

He held his coffee. “I would like to explain how I ended up in bed with you.”

Buy Links – not available at present.

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Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents. She holds a BA from Vassar College, a diploma in Arabic Studies from the American University in Cairo, and Masters in Anthropology and in Library Science from the University of Chicago. All of this tends to insinuate itself into her works.

Ms. Spencer has published fourteen romantic suspense and mystery novels. She has two fabulous grown children and an exuberant granddaughter and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

B everley: Which genre or genres do you write or prefer to write? And why?

M.S.: I started out writing romantic suspense—heavy on the spicy romance. But corpses kept showing up in the middle of the plot and I finally gave up and went with cozy mystery. There’s still plenty of romance (although not as spicy as it used to be) but the emphasis is on the mystery. I enjoy writing mystery because concocting a puzzle, with lots of red herrings and complex twists, is very stimulating. Of course it means I go through 10 to 14 drafts before the story’s usually ready to submit!

Beverley: Who influenced you the most in deciding to become a writer?

M.S.:  I have never known a time when I didn’t want to be a writer. Writers of the classics (except Charles Dickens) were especially influential. I have been a fanatical reader since my Dick and Jane days (I wonder who of your readers will know who they are?). I read everything I could get my hands on, focusing on biography, history, and fiction.

Beverley: What gets your creative juices flowing?

M.S.:  Often it’s a setting. I’m traveling and the place just cries out for a story. Flotsam & Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair was born that way. Amelia Island is the southernmost of the Sea Islands and has a very rich history.

I first visited Amelia Island to attend the Amelia Island Book Festival, and was struck by the crazy quilt of events it had witnessed. Known as the Isle of Eight Flags, it had seen wave after wave of conquering armies, some big—like the Spanish, and some tiny—like the Patriots of Amelia Island, who mustered nine gunboats and maybe a hundred men. Timucuan Indians, French, Spanish, pirates, Scots mercenaries, Confederate and Union soldiers—all occupied the tiny island at one point or another. It also has a sizable Geechee (Gullah) community. Faced with a setting like that, who wouldn’t want to craft a nice little murder mystery?

Beverley: Do you have a favorite cartoon character? Why?

M.S.:  My favorite animated movie character is Megamind. He is sooo sweet and wistful. I’m not generally big on animated cartoons. If you mean the funny papers—it has to be Calvin and Hobbes. We (my family) have the entire set of his published compilations—and regularly steal them from each other.

Beverley: Who would you love most to meet ‘in person’ and why?

M.S.:  A new love of my life. Widowed for 20 years, I would so like to meet a nice, companionable, interesting, lively man.

Beverley: If you had an unexpected free day what would you do with it?

M.S.:  Write.

Beverley: What are you working on now?

M.S.:  I’m eagerly awaiting the January release of Mrs. Spinney’s Secret from The Wild Rose Press. I don’t have a date or link yet, but here’s the blurb:

What do you do when Hollywood takes over your tiny Maine village to make a movie?

Cassidy Beauvoir, chair of the board of overseers of Amity Landing, is ready to throw the bums out; that is, until she meets Jasper MacEwan, the director of American Waterloo: the Rout of the Penobscot Expedition . It’s instant attraction until a series of deadly incidents threatens their budding romance. Are the attacks directed at the movie crew or the townspeople?

As the two search for answers, the trail leads them to long-held secrets of the worst naval defeat of the American Revolution—including betrayal, murder, and a lost hoard of English gold.

My current WIP is tentatively entitled Hidden Gem: The Treasure of St. Augustine . Here’s the story:

In 1982 Byron Preiss published The Secret , which told the tale of the fairy folk who left Europe and made their way to the New World. The twelve nations carried with them their totems–twelve precious gems. When Men began arriving in the New World, the Shining Ones buried the stones and hid themselves. In Hidden Gem: the Treasure of St. Augustine , Philo Brice, proprietor of an antique map and book store, meets Barnaby Swift, in St. Augustine to teach a seminar in research methods. His plan is to use the Secret hunt as a guide and sets them to search for the sapphire thought to be hidden somewhere in the city. Their adventure begins with a murder, and continues in the same vein with bodies dropping here and there. Meanwhile, Barnaby and Philo explore the First City, seek the treasure, and bumble their way into romance.

Blurb for   Flotsa m and Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair :

Who’s littering the park with corpses?

State Park Rangers Simon Ribault and Ellie Ironstone are used to dealing with messy campers and ravaging raccoons, but when three bodies wash up on the beach, they mobilize all their powers of deduction. Who are they and how did they get to the shore of Amelia Island? Are they connected to the secretive League of the Green Cross? Or linked to a mysterious Jamaican drug ring?

Ellie, new to Amelia Island, must penetrate a close-knit community if she wants to find answers to the mystery, all while deciding between two rivals for her affection: Thad, the handsome local idol, and Simon, the clever, quirky bookworm.

Simon, for his part, will have to call on his not-so-well-honed romantic prowess to lure Ellie away from Thad and at the same time use his wide-ranging research skills to solve the case.

Simon has been mooning over Ellie for six months, with little to show for it. It takes three corpses—plus a bit of goosing from his best friend Georgia—to  bring them together.

Excerpt: Hope Springs

As they crossed the street, a fire-engine red Miata barely missed them. It skidded to a stop, and a woman who would put Christie Brinkley to shame leapt out of the car. Simon, accustomed to the sight of her waist-length black hair and eyes a remarkable malachite green, didn’t notice Ellie’s slack jaw. He called, “Hey, Georgia, how’s Santa’s garage? You didn’t unwrap any presents, did you?”

She ran over to them, her short skirt making the long, Tina Turner legs seem even longer. She kissed Simon’s cheek and smiled at Ellie. “You must be Simon’s new partner. Does he treat you as badly as he treats his other colleagues?”

Ellie made a garbled sound in her throat.

She turned to Simon. “Dollink, I’m only down for a few days, and I need to talk to you. Can you come to dinner tonight?”

Simon started to make a joke about checking his social calendar but caught sight of Ellie’s face. She looked pained. What the—?

“Well?” Georgia tugged at his arm.

“Oh, um, sure. What do you want me to bring?”

“Some of that fabulous Italian bubbly you brought the last time. It gave me such a buzz.” She winked at

Ellie, who blinked. “Seven?”

“Okay.”

Georgia turned on her heel and ran back to her car, starting up just as the two drivers behind her had stopped admiring her attributes and begun to fret. She roared off.

“Who…who was that?”

Simon turned surprised eyes on her. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced you. Georgia Petrie.”

“Oh. Your friend from law school.”

“Uh huh.” He gazed at the cloud of dust, the only sign of her passing. “We grew up together.” Ellie muttered something.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you ask if Georgia had seen me naked?”

“Me? That’s absurd.” Ellie plopped into the driver’s seat and waved angrily at Simon. “Get in.”

Simon did as he was told. On the drive back to the station, they were both quiet. Simon rubbed a meditative finger over his lips, wondering. What set Ellie off anyway? A thought intruded. No, couldn’t be.

He checked her profile. Nah. But his mouth formed a hopeful smile, and he leaned back, humming his favorite tune.   

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Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest. Though they love the warm winters and the lizards in their front yard, they haven’t gotten used to the scorpions in the bathroom. Barbara also loves writing, reading, and chocolate.  Sign up for her newsletter to keep up with the latest in her writing life:  https:/ /barbarawhitedaille.com/newsletter .

Blurb from snowbound with mr. wrong:

Worst. Day. Ever. After Lyssa Barnett’s sister tricks her into reprising her role at Snowflake Valley’s annual children’s party, she doesn’t think anything can be worse than squeezing into her too-small elf costume. Then tall, dark, and way too handsome Nick Tavlock shows up to play Santa…and an unexpected storm leaves them snowbound in the isolated lodge.

The last thing Nick wants is to spend a cozy Christmas Eve with a trio of kids and the woman who dumped him. But as much as Lyssa frustrates him, he can’t stop thinking about her. And soon, he’s fighting very un-Santa-like thoughts of kissing a certain sexy Miss Elf under the mistletoe. As Nick starts to fall for Lyssa all over again, he knows it will take nothing short of a miracle to have Lyssa in his arms on Christmas Day.

Excerpt from snowbound with mr. wrong :

Here’s a clip from the beginning of the book, just after Nick has seen Lyssa for the first time:

Someone’s going to pay for this .

Nick Tavlock stared at the woman in the elf costume and swore under his breath. When his so-called friend and associate Michael DeFranco had roped him into playing Santa at his lodge for a second year, he’d agreed to do the man the favor. Michael brought a lot of business his way. But this was pushing friendship and client satisfaction too far.

He’d had Michael’s word there would be a new elf this year.

He had barely set foot in the door before Michael’s housekeeper, Amber, had hustled him upstairs. On the way, she’d thrown an excellent one-two punch, first breaking the bad news that Michael wasn’t showing for the party, then attempting to soften that blow by assuring him all the kids were eager for his appearance.

She hadn’t lied. He could see the proof of her words right here in front of him. But she had forgotten to close with the kicker—that her sister would be here, too.

He swallowed his irritation. Or tried to. “Lyss—”

“Hello, Santa!” she interrupted with a meaningful glance at the kids around them.

“Saved by an elf,” he murmured. “Almost put my boot in my mouth with that one, didn’t I?” He was still trying to pick his jaw up off the floor after the enthusiasm of her greeting. Too bad she hadn’t meant that beautiful smile for him. Too bad she had dumped him months ago, or he’d have had more chances to see that smile of hers.

  “Thanks for the warm welcome. A big surprise, considering the chill of your last good-bye.”

“Those Arctic blasts at the North Pole will do that to an elf.” She smiled again, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “So…Santa, are you ready to hear some wish lists?”

“Sure am,” he said in his best jolly-old-Saint-Nick voice.

He followed her to the velvet-covered chair set in a cleared space beyond the fireplace. Though the flames danced behind a safety screen several yards away, he’d already started to sweat. And it didn’t have a thing to do with the fire or the extra padding inside this Santa suit.

Buy Links for snowbound with mr. wrong :

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Harlequin  https://www.harlequin.com/shop/authors/23759_barbara-white-daille.html  

Entangled   http://entangledpublishing.com/category/barbara-white-daille/

I’m a Canadian and here November 11th  is officially called Remembrance Day, but it is also known as Armistice Day and Poppy Day. Remembrance Day marks the anniversary of the official end of the World War I hostilities on November 11, 1918. The artificial red poppy symbolizes those who died.  

Veterans and Legion members volunteer to sell the poppies in malls and in front of grocery stores and liquor stores. They begin right after Halloween. And it’s by donation – any amount. Banks, insurance companies and smaller stores have poppies available with a donation box for those standing inn line to deal with a cashier.

Most Canadians wear the artificial poppy in their lapels to honor those who died in WW1 and WW2 until November 11 th .  

The poem, “In Flanders Fields”, written by John McCrae, in May 1915 is read, printed, and shared at this time. Apparently during the early days of the Second Battle of Ypres a young Canadian artillery officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, was killed on 2nd May, 1915 in the gun positions near Ypres. An exploding German artillery shell landed near him. He was serving in the same Canadian artillery unit as a friend of his, the Canadian military doctor and artillery commander Major John McCrae.

As the brigade doctor, John McCrae was asked to conduct the burial service for Alexis because the chaplain had been called away somewhere else on duty that evening. It is believed that later that evening, after the burial, John began the draft for his now famous poem “In Flanders Fields”.

I learned this poem in school (many, many years ago) and still remember it.

In Flanders Fields”, by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Can you believe November is here? And the year of Covid is almost over. November is a busy month. NaNoWriMo, Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving and if you’re in a northern area probably snow and the arrival of winter. And many of us move indoors. I was curious and wondered what statistics I could find about whether writing increases during colder months. I couldn’t find anything, but I did find some interesting labour stats. It’s not specific to fiction writers or indie authors. Check these out.

There were 131, 200 writers/authors in 2019. Sixty-three percent are self-employed (Indie). They usually have a bachelor’s degree in English, communications, or journalism and earned $63,200 or $30.39/hour in 2019. The lowest ten present earned less than #33,660 and the highest earned  more than @122,450.The outlook is that employment for writer/authors will decrease by 2 percent over the next ten years.

Some of the areas where writers are employed are as biographers, bloggers, content writers, copywriters, novelists, playwrights, screenwriters and speechwriters. Some of the novelists are-self-employed (Indie). One of the advantages for writer/authors is they may work anywhere, usually where they access to a computer and maybe Wi-Fi. 

This information came from the Occupational Outlook Handbook https://www.bls.gov/ooh/media-and- communication/writers-and-authors.htm#tab-8 part of the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, if you want to read any more.  If you have any comments, please share.

 A native New Yorker, Andrea Downing divides her time between the canyons of city streets and the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. Her background in publishing and English Language teaching has transferred into fiction writing, and her love of horses, ranches, rodeo, and anything else western, is reflected in her award-winning western romances. She has twice been a finalist for the RONE Awards, winner of the Favorite Hero along with several Honorable Mentions in the Maple Leaf Awards, and winner of the Golden Quill for best novella for Dearest Darling . She currently resides on the East End of Long Island.

2020 Character Interview

Beverley: What’s your name?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: I’m Dr. Sydney Cantrell, and I’m featured in Andrea Downing’s book, Shot Through the Heart. The rancher I’ve been associated with, Shiloh Coltrane, has taken to calling me ‘Syd,’ which is fine as a term of endearment, but I do prefer others to keep in mind that I have studied the same as a man, been examined for my knowledge in medical school the same as any man, and am therefore entitled to the same respect as any other doctor.

Beverley: Where did you grow up?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: I grew up in Philadelphia.  My parents are quite well-to-do, but they did not approve of my having a profession and I am therefore no longer in touch with them.  I do think my mother may have continued to write to me but she is very much under the thumb of my father, sadly, so I no longer hear from her either.

Beverley: During what time period does your story take place?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: It is the turn of the 20th Century in Wyoming. I do return to Philadelphia briefly, however.

Beverley: What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: As a young woman, I fell under the spell of a professor/doctor and his wife, who was also a doctor.  They were guests in my parents’ home.  They inspired me to study medicine as well, something of which my father did not approve.  I was also enamoured of the professor so when his wife passed away, well…I think I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.  I went on to Wyoming to start my medical career while the professor was in his year of mourning, but things didn’t work out quite the way either of us envisaged.

I guess Andrea has found my life interesting enough to write about it.  After all, there are very few women doctors these days, sadly, and for someone with a background such as mine to pick herself up and move from Pennsylvania to Wyoming to work on an Indian reservation and in a small town is highly unusual.

Beverley: What’s your goal in this story?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: I have several goals I believe.  First and foremost, I wish to be accepted as their doctor in this new community in which I live in Wyoming, not just by the saloon girls or the army laundresses but by everyone, men and women alike.  Secondly, I need to sort out my feelings for rancher Shiloh Coltrane but also, I feel I need to stop him from his foolhardy and dangerous mission of seeking out his sister and nephew’s killers—this is something for the law, for a sheriff or a marshal.  I know he has been a hired gun in the past, but I want him to put those days behind him and be the rancher he wants to be.

Beverley: What conflicts are you facing?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: I think I’ve let on here that I am engaged to one man and in love with another, so that is one conflict.  Another is how do I make myself accepted as a doctor in this small community?  And finally, how do I save Shiloh Coltrane from himself, from getting killed by going on a fool’s errand when it is really someone else’s job to find these dangerous men?

Beverley: Do you have a plan for resolving them?

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: No, I have no plan other than being the woman and doctor I am, and trying to make Shiloh see the right thing he should do.  Other than that, I must let life play out as it will and take each step as it comes.

Beverley: Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?                                                            

Dr. Sydney Cantrell: Not really, but thank you for asking.  I think your readers must read the book to find out anything more about me, but thank you very much for having me here today and for taking the time to interview me.  It has been greatly appreciated.

Blurb for For Shot Through the Heart:

Gunslinger Shiloh Coltrane has returned home to work the family’s Wyoming ranch, only to find there’s still violence ahead. His sister and nephew have been murdered, and the killers are at large.

Dr. Sydney Cantrell has come west to start her medical practice, aiming to treat the people of a small town. As she tries to help and heal, she finds disapproval and cruelty the payment in kind.

When the two meet, it’s an attraction of opposites. As Shiloh seeks revenge, Sydney seeks to do what’s right. Each wants a new life, but will trouble or love find them first?

Excerpt from Shot Through the Heart:

She crouched behind him, unable to stop the thought her patient’s physique was a prime example of why a female shouldn’t be a doctor, according to her last professor. Oh, yes—we wouldn’t be able to treat men without thinking of marriage. Ha! She shook her head to banish the thought, now supplanted by admiration for the curve of his buttocks, and stood up. Put on her professional tone. Looked into eyes the color of a storm-brewing sky and felt a rush of desire to run her hands though the shaggy blond hair.

Never. Never ever.

She breathed out, pulled herself back to the moment.

“You’re covered in glass.”

“What else is new?”

“Are you in pain?”

“Some. It can wait. Not enough to concern me.”

“You’re going to have to take off your pants and lie on your stomach so I can examine you.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her as he said, “Well then you’re going to have to help. My hands….” He held out his hands, palms up, for her to see.

She realized he was right but resented her own huff of annoyance as he lifted his arms away from his sides. She reached for the buckle on his gun belt first, her irritation with his smirk making her proceed faster than she might have, with less care.

He grimaced.

  “Did that hurt?”

“’Course it dang well hurt. I’ve got glass—”

“I can see you’re covered in glass, Mr.?” It suddenly struck her she’d been so stunned by her patient, she hadn’t even got his name.

“Coltrane. Shiloh Coltrane.”

She pulled herself together once more as she stood, disconcerted, her gaze avoiding his. “Perhaps you’d like to see the barber? This is something he can—”

“If I wanted a shave, I’d see the barber. What I want is…what I want is to get this dang glass out of my skin, my hands particularly. And the piece that’s sticking me in the…the…behind.”

“There are bits in your face as well.” She reached for his belt without another word and undid it, hanging the gun belt on the chair before reaching for his pants belt and pulling it free. That, too, landed on the chair.

“I know I’ve got bits in my face. Let’s just deal first with the hands and …and behind.”

“All right,” she said. “I’m not going to take your pants off for you. Let me see your hands.”

Once more, Shiloh held out both hands, palms up.

Flustered, she blurted, “Sit down.” She went to her bag and searched for the carbolic, gave it a shake before putting some on a cloth and wiped a pair of tweezers. She pulled a tin basin out of the bag as well. She pivoted back to him to find him still standing. “Sorry I forgot. You can’t sit, can you?”

“Not really. Am I causing you problems?”

 

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As a breast cancer survivor (three times) this month hold a special place for me. Almost everyone knows someone who has, or has had , breast cancer, or maybe it’s you and you’re a survivor. Do you “Run for the Cure?” Do you donate to Breast Cancer this month? No, I’m not hustling for donations, but I through more research more and more people survive. I’ve known several people who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. Many years ago, they didn’t survive Now diagnosis, treatment and prognosis has improved thanks to research.

Two of my three diagnosis were discovered by a mammogram. (The other one was a feeling I had and told my family doctor, and he ordered a mammogram, so I guess all three were). I know there are pros and cons about mammograms. Pros- They do save lives. They are estimated to reduce cancer deaths by 15%. Cons – Some people will undergo treatment for no reason, because the identified cancer would never have grown. Women may experience psychological distress, anxiety and uncertainty for years because of an inaccurate result. This comes from a report at https://medshadow.org/medshadow.blog/mammogram-pros-cons/ And some cancers are too aggressive and virulent to control, no matter how early they are picked-up.

Obviously, I recommend mammograms, at least women should be doing a monthly self breast check for any lumps or changes. Always remember to check the lymph nodes in the armpit. If you do have a mammogram and it shows abnormalities, they may do an ultrasound. Doctors may also use the ultrasound to do a fine wire biopsy of the area and send it to the lab for testing.  

There are several other types of biopsies that may be done. If the results show cancer cells, treatment is usually surgery. It may be a lumpectomy or a mastectomy. And may also include radiation, chemotherapy, or hormone therapy.

I found my recent experience rather amusing. (After two previous experiences you don’t get as concerned) I had my routine mammogram. Something showed up. I had an ultrasound. Not sure what it was so a fine needle biopsy was booked. I had the biopsy and the doctor at the time said it didn’t really look like cancer. It was very small. But if it was cancer, he said they had probably removed it all int the tissue sample. The lab said it was cancer and they booked a lumpectomy. The doctor did the lumpectomy and sent it off to the lab. It came back no sign of cancer. My doctor is most upset. Had she missed the spot? Was it somewhere else? I explained that they had probably got it with the biopsy. I don’t think she thought that was possible. People are still unsure and confused about this. I gather this is not common. 😊

If you have a comment or story to share, I’d love to hear it.