Cinderella’s Cowboy Launches!
You’ve heard a lot from me lately… but I’ve had a super-busy winter leading up to these two spring releases and finally, they’re both available. THE MILLIONAIRE DADDY PROJECT is only up for pre-order at this time, but I’m hoping lots and lots of you one-click it and/or put it on your want-to-read shelf at Goodreads. I’ve even got a lovely coffee-table book about beautiful BC wineries to giveaway, for your help spreading the news about this book.
But the really exciting news is… CINDERELLA’S COWBOY just went live! Early reviews are so important to the success of a book, and I couldn’t be happier with the response so far. If you enjoy this story, please consider adding your comments to Amazon:
“…I was barely off the first page before I was grinning–it was a great start to a fantastic book.” -Cary Morton, NetGalley
“I loved the underlying theme of your true self is what shines through and draws people to you… I am so in love with this story, just might read it again.” -Isha Coleman
“… a great series by Ms. Snopek, especially when we get to revisit old friends in each book.” -Pat Fordyce, NetGalley
“I really liked this book. It’s nice to see the underdog win.” -M. Neith
“Although this is the first book I have read by this author it will not be the last.” – T. Jones, NetGalley
On Pets, Love and Loss
- At January 06, 2015
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Roxanne Writes On
- 4
I’m happy to report that my poor doggy is feeling better. He’s trying to hide it, though. He’s deeply conflicted and seems to want to pretend he’s not here, as any attention from us ends up (in his mind) with a needle, a pill being shoved down his throat or a finger poking his behind. He seems to forget about those eggs I scrambled for him yesterday.
He’s not entirely rational.
However, since he’s now going up and downstairs at his usual pace (I had to carry him for awhile. Yes, it was pathetic.) and willing to snooze in his usual post by the window (I’ve got the bedroom door closed, so he can’t get to his Crate of Denial), I believe things are on the up-and-up. Now, if only we can get him eating actual dog food again.
I’ve had to start facing the difficult fact that, at age 11, Myshkin is well into his senior years. A Miniature Poodle, he’s sturdy and strong, a great example of the breed. He’s also super masculine, nothing frou-frou about him. (Except the neuroses, but I’m not one to judge.) I always told Dear Hubby that it was his job to make sure Myshi lives forever, or at least until 20. Toothless, blind, wheelchair, diapers, I don’t care.
It’s not so funny anymore. And I don’t want him to be toothless, blind, in a wheelchair and wearing diapers. No one wants that. I won’t let him live in misery. I don’t even want to think about that. Not yet.
Three years ago, we lost three of our four cats within a four-month span. It was horrible. I haven’t written about it because, well, it was horrible. Mylos, our 14-year old orange tabby male shorthair, had been diabetic for several years, though we managed to get him into remission twice. He was a wonderful, cooperative old boy, but once he developed painful complications, we had to make the decision.
Tabitha, our oldest daughter’s 16-year old silver-grey tabby female shorthair, lived with kidney failure for a long time, despite being difficult to treat. Graceful, with an incredibly luxurious coat, she was a dignified, rail-thin old lady, who would have simply faded away. We tortured ourselves about her; she wasn’t in pain, exactly, but eventually we had to make the humane choice.
Sophie, my favorite (Not really. But sort of.) was our middle daughter’s bombshell calico/tortoiseshell longhair. Healthy, perky, sociable, her death was the worst. One day, with no warning, she became unable to walk. X-rays revealed an enormous abdominal mass, impossible to remove surgically. As the youngest (we think, she came to us as a young adult) we were completely unprepared, and the loss hit hard.
Now we have Bryan (he came with the name), our youngest daughter’s big, tough orange tabby who doesn’t miss the rest of them at all, and is pleased to have us all to himself. At 14, his health is pretty good, but still. He’s 14.
It’s a fact of my personality that I tend to hold onto things. You know, old magazines, children, grudges, stuff like that. It’s not easy for me to let go, even when it would be better for all if I did. I blame my Scorpioness. Also, my brain.
And I hate that in this stage of my life, loss could strike at any time. And not just my pets. I’m thinking of putting my mother in bubble-wrap and giving my dad an “I’m Fine is Probably a Lie” forehead tattoo. I’m just glad they’re near enough for me to intervene when they decide to fall off sidewalks and explode their organs. I’ll refrain from including photos. But I’ve got them, parents. Remember that.
Love is sharpened by the awareness of loss. I hate that, but I must accept it.
Now it’s time to check my dog’s bum. Thank you for your time.
When I’m Not Writing Romance Novels…
- At March 02, 2014
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
.. I can sometimes be found writing HEA stories of another kind. Many of you know that animal rescue is a passion of mine. A few years ago, when PetSmart Charities asked me to write about their National Pet Adoption Weekends, I said a resounding YES!!
Here are a few of the delightful people – and animals – I’ve met through these events.