Sunday Snippet

 

Today's snippet is from my m/f historical romance, Finding Our Morning. Set in Texas, Tehran, and New York City, the story is based on true events, and embellished by my overactive imagination.  I hope you'll give it a try. You can buy it HERE or read it for free with your KU subscription. 

Blurb

She’s a down-to-earth Texan. He has royal blood in his veins. They were never meant to fall in love…

Eighteen-year-old Ginny Tate knows everything about horses, but nothing about love until she meets Dariush—David—Akbari at a polo tournament. His self-effacing charm sets him apart from the boys who tormented her in high school, and she’s fascinated.

Sponsored by his uncle, the Shah of Iran, David has spent the last decade in America. With a new degree in International Law, and an altered view of his culture, David resists the idea of returning home to a prearranged marriage.

Torn between obligation and irresistible attraction, David defies his uncle and travels to Ginny’s family farm. The relationship is forbidden on multiple levels, but their passion can’t be contained. When they give in to it, the all-consuming lust gradually shifts to love, which ultimately leads to unexpected complications.

Indebted to the Shah, David must return home to Iran. They reluctantly say goodbye but the separation becomes unbearable. Trying to save his long-distance relationship may not be possible while his country is in turmoil, but circumstances change, and David is determined to find a way back to the woman who stole his heart.

Snippet

Finding Our Morning

Copyright 2021 by Mickie B. Ashling

All rights reserved. 

IT HAD BEEN five days since Ginny issued the invitation, and she didn’t know what to expect when David finally called to arrange a meeting. Was he passing through town or was this an intentional stop? Either way, the days leading up to his arrival were pure torture.

On the morning in question, Ginny left her hair loose instead of tying it back in her usual ponytail. The dark blond strands had been compared to a palomino’s coat on many occasions, a secret weapon guaranteed to draw the eye. Her clear complexion signaled the start of a promising day, and she decided a little makeup would go a long way to boost her morale. A dab of gloss, a swipe of blush, and a light layer of mascara turned her everyday look into something extraordinary. As for the rest of her, it was business as usual. Faded jeans, a checked cotton shirt, and her favorite red cowboy boots. Her parents noticed as soon as she sat down to breakfast.

“Going to a party?” Margery asked.

“The Shah of Iran is about to grace our doorstep, and I thought I’d look nice for a change.”

“You always look good,” Ray commented. “Anyone who thinks otherwise is a blind fool.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“What about your chores?” Margery inquired. “Won’t your hair get in the way?”

“I’ll get ’em done,” Ginny promised.

“See that you do,” Margery replied. “I know you want to make a good impression, sweetie, but those foreigners aren’t coming to socialize. We have to present our best, and a clean, well-organized farm is just as important as our livestock. You wouldn’t eat in a dirty kitchen.”

“For Christ’s sake, Marge. Leave the girl alone.”

“Seriously, Mom. You’re overreacting as usual.”

“Then explain why you look like you’re going to a party instead of mucking out stalls?”

“He offered dinner and dancing the last time we were together. I don’t want him to change his mind.”

“The shah asked you out?”

“God no,” Ginny said. “David.”

“Which one is he again?”

“Their number-three player.”

“He was an excellent rider,” Margery recalled.

“Best on the team.”

“Where are you going tonight?”

“I’m not sure it’s happening, but I bought a new dress in case.”

“What color is it?”

“Black.”

“You’re too young to wear black,” Margery opined.

Ginny sighed.

“You know I’m right, Virginia. It’s more appropriate for someone older.”

She refused to take the bait. Her mother was being overprotective, given her non-dating history. Still, it was too early in the morning to argue. She scooped up the last of her egg yolk on a piece of toast, swallowed it down with orange juice, and headed toward the door. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

Standing on the steps outside the kitchen door, she paused and scanned the horizon. The sun was already a bright ball of pulsing heat in the cloudless blue sky, and she could tell it was going to be another scorcher. Ginny hoped the Iranians had the good sense to come early to avoid the worst of it.

As she walked to the stable where they kept the horses for sale, she scrutinized her surroundings, trying to see it through the eyes of a stranger. Theirs was a small operation compared to other stud farms, but they had a stellar reputation. Her mother was the driving force behind their prosperity, a stickler for order and quick to remind new employees that pride in ownership was as important as a good pedigree.

Margery acquired her code of ethics from her own parents who’d started the stud farm with one stallion and a few mares. As their only child, she’d inherited the bulk of the estate, with small portions divided among the loyal ranch hands who had been around until her father finally passed, a year and a day after her mother died of cancer. Her gender had never been a good enough excuse to avoid the hard work necessary to ensure the success of the farm, and Margery expected her only daughter to work as tirelessly as the rest of them.

She did have a point, Ginny conceded begrudgingly, but her advice was often framed in criticism, which usually rubbed people the wrong way. Horse breeding could be a messy business when things got out of hand, and organization was key. Her parents continued to use live cover instead of switching to artificial insemination like many breeders across the fifty states. The Tates were old-fashioned, and inseminating a mare with frozen sperm didn’t sit right with the couple.

In addition to their misgivings about the natural order of things, there was the matter of expense. Proper equipment was necessary to keep the sperm viable, and it would have to be maintained by knowledgeable staff in a controlled environment. They couldn’t justify this additional cost for a procedure they deemed unnatural. Furthermore, a lot of organizations who managed the thoroughbred industry required their registered foals to be bred through live cover. Why spend the extra money when their resident stallions got the job done without much prodding?

Mares were sexually receptive during the spring and early summer. This year’s mating season was over, and their goals had been met. The stud fees paid would keep the farm going for another year. They owned a pair of thoroughbred stallions they kept in separate stalls with a small paddock for each to turn out. Even though they were familiar with each other, they could get testy when a mare in estrous was close by, and keeping them separated avoided unnecessary complications.

Most ranchers took their mares home once they witnessed the live cover, but some left them for over a month to make sure the pregnancy was established via ultrasound. These “guests” were stabled separately, and they were checked daily to make sure they were progressing nicely before releasing them back to their owners.

The Tates owned over a dozen mares who were either pregnant or had recently foaled. They also kept geldings on hand for buyers who preferred them to mares. Gestation was eleven months, and although the animal could be used for riding during most of her pregnancy, they required gentle handling. Mares due to foal were installed in individual quarters for their safety. The rest of the horses were housed in large stables with easy access to neighboring pastures for grazing. 

While other teenagers earned pocket money through babysitting, Ginny worked the farm after school and on weekends. She got paid like any other ranch hand. It was a great way to learn the ropes, but it left little room for fun.

She made the rounds swiftly this morning, inspecting each area with a critical eye, paying particular attention to the horses for sale. This would be their first stop and she wanted the area to be in tip-top shape. She could only imagine what the royal stables must look like with dozens of helpers at the shah’s beck and call. Well, they might not have his manpower, but over the years, the stud farm had gained a well-earned reputation for their excellent stock and integrity.

By the time the shah and his entourage arrived two hours later, her nerves were frayed. The group of six, dressed in casual attire, climbed out of a gleaming limousine. Ginny wasn’t sure what to expect, given their status, but these men looked like any prospective buyer. Her parents greeted them deferentially and offered to be their guides as they toured the premises. While they concentrated on the shah, Ginny walked up to David with an outstretched hand.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Was there any doubt?” he asked, stepping forward and clasping her hand in his. He was so close she could smell his sweet breath, overlaid with a hint of coffee. His eyes weren’t black as she’d first thought. They were deep brown with a touch of caramel and were gazing at her approvingly. Now that he was actually here, Ginny’s confidence faltered as she met his intense scrutiny. Had he come to buy a horse or check her out? Nerves and anticipation made her uneasy. She withdrew her hand abruptly and stepped back, laughing off the awkward moment. Had David even noticed?