Sara Barnard's Blog
May 2, 2013
Bestseller alert!!
A Heart on Hold, book 1 of An Everlasting series, has hit two bestseller list this week!! Come celebrate with me and get your digital copy for just .99 cents!!!
http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Hold-Ever...
http://www.amazon.com/Heart-Hold-Ever...
February 27, 2013
We have a bestseller!
The kindle version of The ABC's of Oklahoma Plants has reached bestseller status on amazon.com in nonfiction nature books for kids! In celebration, we have dropped slashed the price in half ... get yours today for $2.99!
http://www.amazon.com/ABCs-Oklahoma-P...
The ABC's of Texas Plants coming soon!!!
http://www.amazon.com/ABCs-Oklahoma-P...
The ABC's of Texas Plants coming soon!!!
January 31, 2013
THANK YOU!
THANKS to all of you wonderful readers who entered my three giveaways!
The totals were:
Chunky Sugar entries: 674
A Heart on Hold entries: 695
The ABC's of Okla. Plants entries: 432
Yay!
If you were a winner, I will get your autographed copies out in the mail to you this morning :-)
The totals were:
Chunky Sugar entries: 674
A Heart on Hold entries: 695
The ABC's of Okla. Plants entries: 432
Yay!
If you were a winner, I will get your autographed copies out in the mail to you this morning :-)
January 30, 2013
To be continued ...
Hey followers! Feel free to follow along with basic training and The Bank Robber's Lament on my personal blog located over at:
sarathreesuns.blogspot.com!
sarathreesuns.blogspot.com!
January 11, 2013
Basic Training -- Week Zero Day 3
1/11/13 -- Friday -- Week Zero, Day Three
I know, I know. I used the same picture again right above here. But given the events of the morning, I can't help but find it fitting.
Happy Friday. I vaguely remember Hubby kissing me goodbye this morning as he left for work ... at such an unholy hour, I could well have been dreaming.
Anywho, the day progresses on- filled with lost backpacks, missing shoes, and alarm clocks that didn't go off. Oh how it would help to have the assistance of a spouse in times such as these.
Finally, a call. It plays out something like this.
HIM: "Good morning!" Crash!
ME: My brows furrow. "Good morning. How is your day?"
HIM: Crash! "Great! Want me to call and wake you up after PT again this cycle?" Crash!
ME: Hmmm. "Yeah, that'd be great. We were running short on time this morning."
HIM: Crash! "Well I will do that tomorrow morning." Crash, crash! "Just had a minute and wanted to call and say I love you." Crash!
ME: "I love you too, but what is that horrible noise in the background?"
HIM: "Oh that? Well, the PVTS are downstairs waiting to go to breakfast chow and it is windy up here in the bay. So windy that their wall lockers keep blowing over." Crash!
ME: Groan. "Oh Hubby, you can talk plain with me! Just tell me you're tossing their wall lockers! No need to hide it in all that windy talk."
HIM: Crash! "Oh I did toss 'em this morning. Figured that would have taught them to lock their wall lockers. Guess not all of 'em were paying attention." Crash! "But now, it's just windy from Hurricane Drill Sergeant blowing through, heh heh heh!" Crash! "Well, hurricane's over. Time to go to breakfast chow! Bye!"
Thank goodness it's Friday. Well, for some it is Friday ... for other's it is the beginning of nine weeks of Hurricane Drill Sergeant.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: LOCK YOUR WALL LOCKERS. ALWAYS. EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A WALL LOCKER IS, IT IS BEST TO LOCK IT ANYWAY.
I know, I know. I used the same picture again right above here. But given the events of the morning, I can't help but find it fitting.
Happy Friday. I vaguely remember Hubby kissing me goodbye this morning as he left for work ... at such an unholy hour, I could well have been dreaming.
Anywho, the day progresses on- filled with lost backpacks, missing shoes, and alarm clocks that didn't go off. Oh how it would help to have the assistance of a spouse in times such as these.
Finally, a call. It plays out something like this.
HIM: "Good morning!" Crash!
ME: My brows furrow. "Good morning. How is your day?"
HIM: Crash! "Great! Want me to call and wake you up after PT again this cycle?" Crash!
ME: Hmmm. "Yeah, that'd be great. We were running short on time this morning."
HIM: Crash! "Well I will do that tomorrow morning." Crash, crash! "Just had a minute and wanted to call and say I love you." Crash!
ME: "I love you too, but what is that horrible noise in the background?"
HIM: "Oh that? Well, the PVTS are downstairs waiting to go to breakfast chow and it is windy up here in the bay. So windy that their wall lockers keep blowing over." Crash!
ME: Groan. "Oh Hubby, you can talk plain with me! Just tell me you're tossing their wall lockers! No need to hide it in all that windy talk."
HIM: Crash! "Oh I did toss 'em this morning. Figured that would have taught them to lock their wall lockers. Guess not all of 'em were paying attention." Crash! "But now, it's just windy from Hurricane Drill Sergeant blowing through, heh heh heh!" Crash! "Well, hurricane's over. Time to go to breakfast chow! Bye!"
Thank goodness it's Friday. Well, for some it is Friday ... for other's it is the beginning of nine weeks of Hurricane Drill Sergeant.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: LOCK YOUR WALL LOCKERS. ALWAYS. EVEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A WALL LOCKER IS, IT IS BEST TO LOCK IT ANYWAY.
Basic Training --Day 2
1/10/13 -- Thursday -- Week Zero, Day Two
There isn't much to report on today. Not because there wasn't anything fun or interesting or scary happening, but simply because Hubby wasn't at work. The one good thing that comes from having 24 hour duty is the following day is your day off ... or CQ Recovery as the Army puts it. So we can only hope and pray that things were running smoothly for our new recruits as the realization no doubt was hammered home with an early, early and less than cordial wake up call to welcome them to the Army.
There isn't much to report on today. Not because there wasn't anything fun or interesting or scary happening, but simply because Hubby wasn't at work. The one good thing that comes from having 24 hour duty is the following day is your day off ... or CQ Recovery as the Army puts it. So we can only hope and pray that things were running smoothly for our new recruits as the realization no doubt was hammered home with an early, early and less than cordial wake up call to welcome them to the Army.
January 10, 2013
The Bank Robber's Lament (part 2)
Smith looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was a little girl seated in the back of the wagon. She wore a blue dress, obviously store bought, and her pretty blonde hair was tied back in pigtails. One eye was shadowed and a lone trickle of blood ran from her puffy lip down to her trembling chin. "Please, Mister."
"You talkin' to strangers, Sadie?" The big man's grating voice came from behind them. "That's three lashes with the belt when we get back to the homestead."
Then, there it was. That remembrance that showed up at the most inopportune times. The knife in his father's hand flashed in his memory just as it had in real life so many years ago. Remembering the pain, anger, and humiliation made something hot surge from the depths of Smith's gut. His father had always told him that he deserved what he got. Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. One thing was for certain though, this little girl in the wagon had done nothing wrong.
Smith slowly turned his body so that he was facing the man who'd just exited the bank. The woman hovered behind him, a greenish hue on her cheek and the same pleading look in her eyes as her daughter's. Feeling the big farmer's eyes on him, Smith raised one finger, slow as molasses in the wintertime, and eased his hat up, up up. He watched as the big man's eyes grew wider as he took in Smith's appearance.
"By Jove man, you're ... you're ... you're hideous!"
Smith stared at him for a moment, then he spoke. "That gal done nothin' wrong. Was me that spoke first." He took a step closer to the big man. Dropping his voice low, Smith continued. "It's me that deserves those three lashes, not the child. Understood?"
The big man nodded. Averting his eyes, he waddled to the wagon and clambered in. "Well come on, Woman," he stammered, "We ain't got all day!"
Smith stared as the woman swept by to resume her stoic seat in the wagon. Her dress, also store bought, matched her shoes. She was by far the most handsome women he'd ever set eyes on.
Smith watched dumbly as the big man snapped the reins, never looked back as he drove the wagon out of town. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
Wish I could have me a family like that. Smith turned back toward the bank's door. How'd that big lug get so lucky?
Glancing at the clock, which read 5 o'clock, he pulled his hat down low. The street was empty, people were gone, and it was closing time. His boots thunked on the wood planks as he approached the door. "Time to get this over with," he mumbled, placing his hand on the handle. He checked the position of his hat once more. Satisfied that his face was well-concealed, Smith sucked in deep breath and pushed open the door.
"You talkin' to strangers, Sadie?" The big man's grating voice came from behind them. "That's three lashes with the belt when we get back to the homestead."
Then, there it was. That remembrance that showed up at the most inopportune times. The knife in his father's hand flashed in his memory just as it had in real life so many years ago. Remembering the pain, anger, and humiliation made something hot surge from the depths of Smith's gut. His father had always told him that he deserved what he got. Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. One thing was for certain though, this little girl in the wagon had done nothing wrong.
Smith slowly turned his body so that he was facing the man who'd just exited the bank. The woman hovered behind him, a greenish hue on her cheek and the same pleading look in her eyes as her daughter's. Feeling the big farmer's eyes on him, Smith raised one finger, slow as molasses in the wintertime, and eased his hat up, up up. He watched as the big man's eyes grew wider as he took in Smith's appearance.
"By Jove man, you're ... you're ... you're hideous!"
Smith stared at him for a moment, then he spoke. "That gal done nothin' wrong. Was me that spoke first." He took a step closer to the big man. Dropping his voice low, Smith continued. "It's me that deserves those three lashes, not the child. Understood?"
The big man nodded. Averting his eyes, he waddled to the wagon and clambered in. "Well come on, Woman," he stammered, "We ain't got all day!"
Smith stared as the woman swept by to resume her stoic seat in the wagon. Her dress, also store bought, matched her shoes. She was by far the most handsome women he'd ever set eyes on.
Smith watched dumbly as the big man snapped the reins, never looked back as he drove the wagon out of town. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
Wish I could have me a family like that. Smith turned back toward the bank's door. How'd that big lug get so lucky?
Glancing at the clock, which read 5 o'clock, he pulled his hat down low. The street was empty, people were gone, and it was closing time. His boots thunked on the wood planks as he approached the door. "Time to get this over with," he mumbled, placing his hand on the handle. He checked the position of his hat once more. Satisfied that his face was well-concealed, Smith sucked in deep breath and pushed open the door.
January 7, 2013
The Bank Robber's Lament (part 1)
The Bank Robber's Lament (part 1)
by
Sara Barnard
Jonesy pushed his hat up with the shooting end of his Colt. After daring a peek from behind the big oak, he ducked to join the rest of them. "You go in first, Smith. You the ugliest one of us, anyway!" The two other gang members chuckled, their pistols drawn and hanging easily in their slender hands. Smith had only pulled one other job with these guys and hadn't bothered to learn anyone's name but Jonesy's. Smith figured that, like him, they were probably all using fake names anyway, so it didn't make much sense to pay them any special attention.
"Did you hear me, Smith, or are you deaf and ugly?" Jonesy's face twisted up into a sneer. "Get in that bank and get 'em to sack up that money, just like last time. Then we'll come in to collect it."
Smith let his fingers trace the wide scar that had been a gift from his father. The angry gash snaked from the corner of his eye, the one that now drooped, beneath his nose, and ended at the opposite corner of his mouth. He coughed. "Alright Boss, just like last time."
Their snickers haunted his ears as Smith pulled his black felt cowboy hat down low, concealing most of his disfigured face. The dusty main street of Gabriel's Settlement, Texas was empty, aside from a lone wagon just coming into town. Being Wednesday, most of the townsfolk were probably headed to evening services at the church house. He glanced at the giant clock on the bank's façade. 4:45. Just about closing time.
The wagon, driven by a large man in bib overalls and a straw hat, groaned to a halt right in front of the bank. A blonde-haired woman, about his own age, sat tall and stoic beside him on the rickety seat. "Durn the luck," Smith muttered. He glanced at the sun, trying to look inconspicuous.
The large man's grating voice echoed in the street as he struggled with the wagon's brake. Finally, he was successful and heaved his burly frame from the wagon box onto the wooden boardwalk in front of the bank. "Come on woman. Let's get this over with." He turned his broad back, leaving the woman to struggle out of the wagon without help.
Smith's brows knotted together. That didn't look right. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Jonesy's face poked out from behind the oak. Go on, he mouthed, waving the pistol in the direction of the bank.
Drawing in a haggard breath, Smith shoved his hands deep into his duster's empty pockets and started toward the bank. His fingers wiggled, a nervous habit he'd had since as far back as he could remember. If he still had his six-shooter, he'd have been able to feel it with the incessant wiggling. At the first job, when he'd realized he'd forgotten his pistol after commanding the bank teller to empty the vault, Smith had made a strange discovery. When he'd tipped up his hat, the mousy gentleman behind the counter had simply gasped and filled the burlap, a look of horror on his thinly-mustached countenance. "Y-y-yes. Yessir," he'd managed as he'd filled the bags. Smith shook his head at the memory and stepped onto the tumbledown boardwalk.
"Can you help me, Mister?" The tiny voice of a girl chimed from the back of the wagon. "Please?"
by
Sara Barnard
Jonesy pushed his hat up with the shooting end of his Colt. After daring a peek from behind the big oak, he ducked to join the rest of them. "You go in first, Smith. You the ugliest one of us, anyway!" The two other gang members chuckled, their pistols drawn and hanging easily in their slender hands. Smith had only pulled one other job with these guys and hadn't bothered to learn anyone's name but Jonesy's. Smith figured that, like him, they were probably all using fake names anyway, so it didn't make much sense to pay them any special attention.
"Did you hear me, Smith, or are you deaf and ugly?" Jonesy's face twisted up into a sneer. "Get in that bank and get 'em to sack up that money, just like last time. Then we'll come in to collect it."
Smith let his fingers trace the wide scar that had been a gift from his father. The angry gash snaked from the corner of his eye, the one that now drooped, beneath his nose, and ended at the opposite corner of his mouth. He coughed. "Alright Boss, just like last time."
Their snickers haunted his ears as Smith pulled his black felt cowboy hat down low, concealing most of his disfigured face. The dusty main street of Gabriel's Settlement, Texas was empty, aside from a lone wagon just coming into town. Being Wednesday, most of the townsfolk were probably headed to evening services at the church house. He glanced at the giant clock on the bank's façade. 4:45. Just about closing time.
The wagon, driven by a large man in bib overalls and a straw hat, groaned to a halt right in front of the bank. A blonde-haired woman, about his own age, sat tall and stoic beside him on the rickety seat. "Durn the luck," Smith muttered. He glanced at the sun, trying to look inconspicuous.
The large man's grating voice echoed in the street as he struggled with the wagon's brake. Finally, he was successful and heaved his burly frame from the wagon box onto the wooden boardwalk in front of the bank. "Come on woman. Let's get this over with." He turned his broad back, leaving the woman to struggle out of the wagon without help.
Smith's brows knotted together. That didn't look right. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Jonesy's face poked out from behind the oak. Go on, he mouthed, waving the pistol in the direction of the bank.
Drawing in a haggard breath, Smith shoved his hands deep into his duster's empty pockets and started toward the bank. His fingers wiggled, a nervous habit he'd had since as far back as he could remember. If he still had his six-shooter, he'd have been able to feel it with the incessant wiggling. At the first job, when he'd realized he'd forgotten his pistol after commanding the bank teller to empty the vault, Smith had made a strange discovery. When he'd tipped up his hat, the mousy gentleman behind the counter had simply gasped and filled the burlap, a look of horror on his thinly-mustached countenance. "Y-y-yes. Yessir," he'd managed as he'd filled the bags. Smith shook his head at the memory and stepped onto the tumbledown boardwalk.
"Can you help me, Mister?" The tiny voice of a girl chimed from the back of the wagon. "Please?"
Happy Monday
Yawn, thank goodness for Italian roast coffee and thank goodness even more for my hubby to remember to buy the k-cups of it for me!
Today the Drill Sergeant changed all the diapers in the house and dressed the little ones before leaving for work. Thanks, DS! They pick up cycle (i.e. get in a new truckload of recruits for Basic Training) on Wednesday, and the beauty of the long holiday break is already giving way to stress. I am not sure who is dreading this more, me... or him.
On another note, I have a story written ... it is a western titled The Bank Robber's Lament. I am going to be publishing it here and on my other blog @ sarathreesuns.blogspot.com
So leave me some feedback and tell me what you think!! :-) Time to step back into 1886 ...
Today the Drill Sergeant changed all the diapers in the house and dressed the little ones before leaving for work. Thanks, DS! They pick up cycle (i.e. get in a new truckload of recruits for Basic Training) on Wednesday, and the beauty of the long holiday break is already giving way to stress. I am not sure who is dreading this more, me... or him.
On another note, I have a story written ... it is a western titled The Bank Robber's Lament. I am going to be publishing it here and on my other blog @ sarathreesuns.blogspot.com
So leave me some feedback and tell me what you think!! :-) Time to step back into 1886 ...
January 3, 2013
Here we go again ...
Well here we are in the beginning of a brand new year. Ours so far has been full of monumental decisions, cold weather, the written word, and, well, stress!
My husband is a Drill Sergeant here where we are stationed in Oklahoma and to say it is a stressful lifestyle on EVERYONE involved is saying the very least. Since we have decided to get out of the Army and life out our lives as civilians together, this coming cycle will be his last. In honor of this, I am going to document the goings-on here -- just for you! He starts cycle and the kids all go back to school on the same day, so that will make it interesting!
In the meantime, check out www.5princebooks.com if you need a good read. This is my publisher and there are LOTS of good titled releasing this month. In fact, my debut picture book, Chunky Sugars, released on New Year's Day and book 2 in my An Everlasting Heart series releases at the end of January! Check out work from Ann Swann, Denise Moncrief, Christina OW, Erika Szabo, Doug Simpson, Tina Adams, Hillary Seidel, Melynda Price, and M.O. Kenyan. There are also some awesome releases from best-selling authors Bernadette Marie, Carmen DeSousa, and M.J. Kane coming out, to boot!
Catch ya on the flip side! Time to go on a Mommy/Daughter date and get our hair done!
My husband is a Drill Sergeant here where we are stationed in Oklahoma and to say it is a stressful lifestyle on EVERYONE involved is saying the very least. Since we have decided to get out of the Army and life out our lives as civilians together, this coming cycle will be his last. In honor of this, I am going to document the goings-on here -- just for you! He starts cycle and the kids all go back to school on the same day, so that will make it interesting!
In the meantime, check out www.5princebooks.com if you need a good read. This is my publisher and there are LOTS of good titled releasing this month. In fact, my debut picture book, Chunky Sugars, released on New Year's Day and book 2 in my An Everlasting Heart series releases at the end of January! Check out work from Ann Swann, Denise Moncrief, Christina OW, Erika Szabo, Doug Simpson, Tina Adams, Hillary Seidel, Melynda Price, and M.O. Kenyan. There are also some awesome releases from best-selling authors Bernadette Marie, Carmen DeSousa, and M.J. Kane coming out, to boot!
Catch ya on the flip side! Time to go on a Mommy/Daughter date and get our hair done!
