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L R Trovillion
a book bubble about
Horse Gods: The Dressage Rider’s Betrayal
Teens
Author Insight
Third Book in the Series and MORE
I am clearing my calendar, clearing my "head space," and preparing to focus on becoming a productive author this year. So many readers have been asking for the third book in the Maryland Equestrian series--Willow's story--but I've been unable to get the draft written. So many competing priorities in life! Do you have that problem? Well, this year I am taking myself seriously as a writer so they'll be some changes in store. By this time next year I envision having landed an agent for my Jazz Age murder mystery with a supernatural twist, Forgotten is Forgiven, and well on my way to a traditional contract. I want to be a hybrid author with the flexibility to Indie pub what I want and take advantage of what the traditional publishers have to offer. Another plan is a series of mysteries that take place in rural Western Maryland. The first in the series, Pale Horse, is coming along nicely. But I've got more envisioned for 2020! Check out my other "bubbles" for Dream Horse and False Gods to find out what's in store!
Book Excerpt
Horse Gods: The Dressage Rider’s Betrayal
It’s been almost a year and I guess karma, God, or whatever hasn’t found me yet. I figure that’s the case, because I haven’t been punished. Some days, I can’t help but wonder if maybe He’s forgotten all about me.
Hope so.
Tires crunch on the gravel and someone hollers out my name.
“Willow!”
Outside the stall, the bright sunshine reflecting off the big horse trailer makes me squint. Molly pokes her head out of the driver’s side window of the truck. Her round face is red, maybe from the heat. More likely from shouting. “We need some more help here!”
The pitchfork fits snugly in the holder just outside the stall and I jog over to the horse trailer. Heat radiates from the diesel and I can hardly hear what Molly is saying over the engine noise and the banging coming from the trailer.
“May need help with this one.” Molly’s sun burnt elbow rests on the open window. Bilby jumps out of the passenger side, crosses in front of the truck, and walks along the length of the trailer, patting the side with his palm as he walks. When Molly cuts the engine, a hush falls over the yard, but only for a minute. The other rescue horses thrust their heads out of stall windows, sensing a new arrival, and whinny.
Whatever’s inside the trailer screams back and doesn’t stop. He punctuates it with a slam against the side.
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