Pets add so much to our lives, and my golden retriever has enriched my world so very much.

I'll never forget the first time I saw her. My husband, daughter, and I had gone to the breeder's to pick out our new puppy. It was Christmastime, and there they were--nine fluffy little golden retriever puppies. All adorable, all four weeks old. I thought there was no way we were going to be able to pick out just one--I was in love with all of them! But as we sat on the floor in the family room, getting to know the little scamps, I noticed one little puppy had hidden behind a chair. She was smaller than the rest, and was peeking out from time to time, before scooting back to safety. Of course, I had to know more about the shyest puppy there, and so did my husband and daughter. We coaxed her out from her hiding place, and got her to sit on our laps. Once there, she did not want to leave. So we began to wonder.... is she the one meant for us? A week later, we went back to visit the puppies again. As soon as we arrived, the shy little puppy came out of hiding, made a beeline for us, and climbed onto our laps. The decision was made--she had chosen us as surely as we had chosen her. We named her Regan--it means queenly, or reigning queen, and that suited her well.

We took Regan home when she was nine weeks old. We sat up with her, nights, when she missed her mama and littermates too much to sleep. We've attended puppy obedience classes with her, {now, those were a riot} vacationed with her, logged countless miles walking with her, and cared for her when she was sick. She's my constant companion when I am writing, and a big buddy to everyone else in the family, as well.

These days, she is a very outgoing personality. At thirteen and a half, she has a little white on her face, and arthritis in her gait, but her spirit remains indomitable. When I look in her eyes, I know how much love there is in this world of ours...

The enclosed photos are three of my favorites. The first was taken when Regan was a year old, enjoying the wonder of her very first snowfall. The second, snapped a year or so later, is Regan relaxing on her favorite place on the deck, while watching over the newly planted tomatoes, and her backyard. The third was taken recently, and shows Regan curled up contentedly on her cushion, napping, while I write nearby.

Regan is the inspiration for many of the retrievers in my books. And she is also the reason I wrote, A COWBOY UNDER THE MISTLETOE….a story about the wonder of Christmas, and the miracles that can occur, when we open our hearts.

Happy reading,

Cathy Thacker

Dear Readers,

For many in Texas, football isn’t just a sport, it’s a religion… And nothing makes a game day more special than crispy tortilla chips paired with the ever popular Texas layered dip, guacamole, and chili con queso. Here are a few of my favorite recipes.

Go team!

Cathy Gillen Thacker

Dear Reader,

Christmas is a holiday that stirs strong emotions and mine have run the gamut.  There was my first Christmas as a new bride—very romantic.  My first Christmas hundreds of miles away from my family—highly sentimental, and not necessarily in a good way.  Our Christmases with our children when they were young and impossibly excited were very joyous indeed.   The Christmas immediately following the passing of my father was achingly bittersweet.  There are years when the holiday spirit seems determined to elude me—although I always find it eventually.  And years when I am overrun with merriment and anticipation weeks before the actual day.   I never know how the season is going to start—that sort of depends on what is going on around me.  I always know how it’s going to end, with celebration and appreciation, love and family. And the same is true of the residents of fictional Laramie, Texas. 

Event planner Noelle Kringle realizes she has spent too much time dwelling on her losses and is determined to do better and make this a holiday to remember for her two and a half year old son, even as she goes all out to help a beloved friend who is going through her own tough time.  Detective Kevin McCabe laments the lack of a wife and kids of his very own.  His strategy for avoiding the holiday blues is to stay busy, first by doing the guy thing and going fishing alone for two weeks and then by concentrating on police work and charitable endeavors.  Neither figure on a life-changing holiday romance…. But then, the best presents are always a surprise… I hope you enjoy this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.  For more information on this and other titles, please visit the book list and series guide. Happy holidays and best wishes, Cathy Gillen Thacker

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Dear Reader,

What makes a good father?  To answer that question, I have only to look as far as my own dad.  He was always there for me.  Or to put it in today’s slang, “He showed up.”  It didn’t matter whether I had a fall from my bike or a piano recital or the birth of my first child.  He was always there to bandage a knee, cheer me on, or share in the most incredible joy I’ve ever felt in my life.  He showed up.

Nate Hutchinson wants to show up, too, but he doesn’t have a child of his own until an old friend leaves a posthumous request that he bring up her son. This is no baby.  Landry is a fourteen year old boy with a mind of his own.  Landry doesn’t understand why Nate would want him and he’s not much interested in sticking around to find out why Nate does. Enter Brooke Mitchell.  She loves and protects her 13 year old son Cole fiercely—even when scandal threatens. With Brooke and her son there to help, Nate and Landry begin to see what they too can have, if they dare to become a family.  The question is, can they do it on their own?  Do they even want to try, given the fact that the two boys have become like brothers?  As for Nate and Brooke… something wonderful is happening there, too…    Happy reading! Cathy Gillen Thacker

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Dear Reader,

Spring is the season of renewal. And what better way to add new energy and excitement to your life than by falling in love and making a lifelong commitment to another person?

At lease that’s the way Jack Gaines’s long-widowed mother feels. Sixtysomething Patrice is engaged to be married. Jack would be happy for her if he believed his mother was truly in love with Dutch.

But something seems missing in their relationship. And Jack, burned by his own matrimonial “mistake,” does not want to see his mother enter into an ill-advised union. She’s had enough heartbreak in her life. As her son, it is his duty to protect her. Enter Caroline Mayer, wedding planner extraordinaire. Although Caroline has ruled out a happy-ever-after romance for herself, she loves fulfilling the dreams of others by making their wedding the happiest day of all. Caroline and Jack are at odds from the beginning. He wants to stop the wedding. She wants the nuptials to go off without a hitch. Ehst they don’t expect is to fall in love themselves along the way… I hope you all enjoy winter’s end and experience a little spring fever and a lot of love.  In the meantime… Happy reading! Cathy Gillen Thacker

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Dear Reader,

During the years my husband I and the kids lived in Austin, Texas, it snowed only twice—and melted the next day in both cases. So you can imagine our excitement our first winter in North Carolina when we learned a major snowstorm was on the way. Unfortunately, we couldn’t have been less prepared. We had no rock salt or sand for the sidewalks, no shovel to clear them, and perilously few supplies.

Gamely, we ran out to get milk, bread, and a bag of rock salt. (We didn’t get a shovel because we didn’t think we would really need one.) We put our eldest daughter on a plane back to college, and settled in for a few inches.

The “few inches” turned into the Blizzard of the Century-- as the local news reports took to calling it—delivered in three separate back to back snowstorms that closed schools and businesses for a week. During that time, as my family and I struggled to dig our way out of the driveway with a garden shovel, a hoe, a rake and other assorted garden tools, I found myself doing plenty of daydreaming. What if a runaway bride, a schoolteacher on a field trip and a young mother with her baby got stranded by a snowstorm, at the worst possible times in the best possible places, with the men of their dreams? The result? A trilogy entitled Blizzards, Brides & Babies, featuring three romantic comedies—SNOWBOUND BRIDE, HOT CHOCOLATE HONEYMOON AND SNOW BABY.

And while two of the books are now available only in libraries and at used book stores, I am thrilled to announced that SNOWBOUND BRIDE has recently been reissued in both paperback and made available on e-reader as well.

Happy reading and best wishes,

Cathy Gillen Thacker
(who now has two shovels and a bag of rock salt, “just in case.”)

Dear Reader,

Christmas inspires us all.  There is something about the month of December that encourages people to give of their hearts, their time, and their money.  For causes, big and small.  And to the benefit of friends and family and the people in their lives that they love most of all.  But what do we do when a child asks for something we just can’t give?

Travis Carson is in that predicament.  His daughters, four and a half year old Sophie, and three and a half year old Mia, want a mommy for Christmas, and they expect Santa to bring them one.  Travis explains this isn’t possible.  And because he wants his two little girls to be happy, begins looking for other ways to give them more of the feminine influence they need in their lives.

His best friend and neighbor, Holly Dawson, does not have that problem.  Her three and a half year old twin sons, Tucker and Tristan, have never really known the father that deserted them shortly after birth, and they don’t seem to particularly want a daddy, either.  The problem is, their dad is suddenly interested in seeing them again.  And Holly isn’t sure if this is a gift, or a calamity-in-the-making. Travis and Holly tackle these two problems the same way they approach every other challenge in their single-parent-families—together!  And before they know it, the Christmas season is bringing them one very wonderful gift, too. Happy holidays to you and all your loved ones! Cathy Gillen Thacker

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Dear Reader,

Guys like to help each other out.  Whether it’s by fixing a car, working together on a business deal, or providing moral support.  When they are friends, they are there for each other. 

The Lone Star Dad’s Club is one of these unofficial yet highly effective groups.  The five Fort Worth, Texas men have known each other for years.  They’ve seen each other through accelerating careers, good and bad marriages, and divorce.  They share a love and concern for each other’s kids.  And figure there is no problem they can’t handle together….

Dan Kingsley is the architect of the group and the kind of guy who likes to find solutions to life’s thorniest problems by thinking outside the box. 

Emily Stayton is a personal chef, with a baby on the way. The single-mom-to-be has learned the hard way to leave work at work, and never get too involved with a ‘client’. It’s a promise she has no problem sticking to, until she meets the sexy dad, and understands the complex nature of his problem. Emily accepts Dan’s challenge to bring peace and tranquility to mealtimes at his house—with the caveat she will be moving on as soon as the job is done. She doesn’t count on getting close to his three kids, or having him take such an interest in her baby. And she really doesn’t count on what happens between the two of them! Happy Thanksgiving-- and happy reading! Cathy Gillen Thacker

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"It was a dark and stormy night," as my favorite character Snoopy says perched upon his red doghouse, thinking of something, anything to write. It's those same words that my mother seems to live by, sitting on her own doghouse (an old, ratty office chair), using a computer that pre-dated PCs (she's now upgraded to a more modern laptop), sometimes soliciting advice from her good pal Woodstock (in this case, me).

Every writer has their muse, their Woodstock, so to speak, and I seem to be my mother's. I don't mind, I actually enjoy developing plot lines, charting character development, discovering just what motivates everyone and everything. I just can't seem to fit that title on my resume anywhere. And, boy, have I put in the hours to deserve it.

I get calls at 7am on Saturday mornings, sometimes when I am sleeping in after plugging away long hours during my law school weeks. I get these emails describing these problems in great detail, so much so that if anyone ever wants to know any detail of my mother's books in advance, I'm the person to pay. (Just a warning: since I am now attending graduate school, I must up my rate significantly to off-set the costs of school and because my information is much more valuable.)

According to my mother, I am available 24/7 for whatever plotting issues she may have. Or she thinks she has. Or she's not sure she has. If in doubt, call Sarah. It's to the point, that my father even will occasionally grumble to my mother during particularly bad moments in my mother's writing process that she "should call that English major daughter of hers." I wish sometimes that my mom would get me confused with my other sister, the music major, since English and Music are both "arts", one is liberal and one is fine. Same difference to me. Alas, that trick has never worked.

To get an idea of what a typical conversation is like with my mother about these issues, just imagine having a discussion with someone when you know going into it you just cannot win. It's not that they are smarter or better or any more well-versed than you are on the subject. Instead, the conversation is geared towards making that other person convinced that what you are saying is the key to the castle, the answer to their prayers, that extra layer of icing on that homemade chocolate cake. My mother will present me with one of her problems in excruciating detail (because that's what writers do, focus on the little, inane details of every situation), even if she has given me all this detail before, if not just prior to this rehashing. And I had better pay attention because if I mix up one detail, I get to hear the whole scenario all over again.

Then comes the worst part. She argues with me. No matter what I say, what I do, she argues. I can say nothing and she'll argue with the dead air. For mom, the argument is what gets the problem solved; for me, the argument is what drives me nuts. I just can't win. Even though the problem usually gets solved with the combination of heads plotting away (excuse the pun), I always leave the conversation exhausted, confused, and ready for a nap while Mom is energized, her creative impulses restored and ready to work.

Yet, I'll never turn down the chance to help my Mom solve one of these problems. Not many people get to be a muse, even if I don't play the full part. But I do have to make my Mom admit that some books, she just couldn't do without me. (Not that I write any portion of the book or completely plot an entire novel - just that I do significantly help her during certain portions of the writing process.) And, usually, that admission alone is enough to keep my brain churning as my mother's very own Woodstock.