Here in the Sonoran Desert, the heat is upon us. We desert dwellers are forced to understand the dangers lurking in those high thermometer readings. We know they can very quickly lead to death.

Unfortunately, many visitors to our valley don’t seem to understand. Just two week’s ago, a tourist died on one of our city trails, a young woman who tried scaling Camelback Mountain without water. In July! Earlier, when paramedics had to rescue dehydrated hikers from our parks, a dozen firefighters were themselves overcome by the heat. In response, some of our trails have been closed to the public. Others are only open early in the morning and in the evening.

It’s interesting, I think, that so many people fear hurricanes and tornados and floods and earthquakes when the natural event most likely to kill them is heat.

I know first-hand the horrors of heat sickness. The symptoms can arrive frighteningly fast. Dizziness, confusion, headache, nausea, signs that can quickly lead to unconsciousness and death. All but one of my bouts of heat illness were brought on by officiating and my own stupidity. I was an amateur sports official for 40 years, where I called football, baseball, ice hockey, soccer, and basketball games. I was almost always the only woman on the field, a fact that was rarely far from my mind.

As you can imagine, I was sometimes made to feel I didn’t belong in the officiating ranks, and I was keenly aware that any show of weakness would lay me open to negative comments from my peers, coaches, and fans. So, the first time I got heat sickness, I struggled through it. It was a baseball game and I was clad in the necessary armor required for working behind the plate: chest protector, shin guards, wool cap, polyester shirt and slacks, steel-toed shoes. The sun was relentless. After the game, I went home and balanced myself under a cold shower for what seemed like hours. I drank Gatorade and copious amounts of water. I felt lousy for a day or two, then returned to the field.

One of the problems associated with heat illness is that once you get it your internal thermometer is messed up and you start succumbing to it more easily. I’m a slow learner sometimes, so it took me a while to finally take a stand. One day, in a sub-varsity football game, I called time and went to the trainer. He took one look at me and dragged me into the locker room where he filled me with fluids and applied wet, icy towels to my head and neck. I was rather surprised when my crew mates greeted me at halftime and promptly told me to go home and get well. No derision. No smirks. I realized then that most outdoor officials in the southwest have probably suffered similarly at one time or another.

A few years later, the telltale signs of heat sickness attacked in the middle of a varsity football game, and you’d be proud of me. I signaled time out, struggled off the field, and said I was sick. Later, when I opened my eyes in the school’s nursing office, I found myself surround by four paramedics. They were so attentive and cute. I briefly considered that they might be male strippers with their prominent muscles and appealing uniforms, but that was just my heat-addled brain.

What finally made me understand the true dangers of heat illness was the time I got lost in the desert. I did all the wrong things. I went rock collecting alone. I walked away from my stranded vehicle. I had two dogs with me who drank all my water. When I saw that last half inch of liquid in my bottle and felt the sun beating down, I tied my dogs under a bush and hoped the coyotes would stay away. I built cairns as I tried to find my way back to civilization, so I might locate my sweet pups if I survived. While the whole ordeal only lasted half-a-day and I was safely reunited with my dogs, the episode is etched into my brain. As is the fact that today I might be nothing more than a pile of bleached bones in the vast Sonoran Desert.

It’s understandable then that I never go anywhere without water. That bottle is always in my hand, which here in the desert is pretty much normal. In fact, those without a mobile water supply are easily identified as tourists.

The point is, heat can kill you quickly. And when you consider that our world is heating up rapidly, it’s something we should all take into account whenever we leave the bliss of air-conditioning.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST


Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

Now available on NetGalley

When I was a high school teacher, part of my job was to encourage my students to think about the future. When it came to resume writing, I’d say, “What are you good at? What have you accomplished that you’re proud of?”

Often, I’d be met with blank stares, which was understandable because they were just kids. Still, I’d press on. “When you choose a career, it’s important to think about what you like to do, what you’re good at, and what someone will pay you to do.”

When the conversation would stall, I’d point out some of my own accomplishments. “When I was your age, I discovered I had a good speaking and singing voice, so I performed in a lot of plays. And I really enjoyed sports. I was an ice dancer and I loved swimming and skiing and watching ice hockey. Eventually, these things put me on a path to becoming a TV sportscaster.”

“Your bragging, Ms. Montgomery,” some child would blurt out. Others around the room—mostly girls—would nod their heads.

“So, you don’t think it’s right to talk about your accomplishments?”

“No!” a chorus of them would answer.

Then, I’d point at a boy who played sports. “How’d your game go? Which would lead the young man on a tangent about how well he’d preformed on the gridiron. Strangely, when I’d ask female athletes the same question, the response was rarely positive. “I could have done better,” one would say. “I missed an important free throw,” another might add.

Bragging, it turns out, is a habitat peopled mostly by males. A young man can walk into a job interview and wax on about his accomplishments, while women of all age groups seem to feel they must be demure, that identifying their skills and successes is unladylike and casts them in a bad light.

A perfect example is the way many women handle compliments. When someone says something nice about our appearance or a job well done, lots of us stare at the floor, or point out something we did wrong, or give credit to someone else in order to counter the accolade.  And this is a problem.

I think denying our successes holds us back, especially in the business world where self-confidence and life experience say a lot about who we are and what we might be capable of in the future. Take participating in sports, for example. Business owners are delighted to hire those who’ve been on teams. They know athletes understand punctuality, working with others toward a common goal, following rules, and getting back up when you’ve been knocked down. (Note here that championships and won-loss records are not relevant. Just participating is all that’s important.) And let’s not forget those other “team players”: young people who’ve participated in choir, marching band, theater, debate, and other activities that are equally favored by many human resources departments. But those doing the hiring will not know about a person’s past if the applicant is unwilling to share the information, so it’s important that people speak up. That’s not bragging. It’s smart!

Today, I don’t hesitate to share stories about my past and the things I’ve experienced and exceeded at. And I’ve learned to accept compliments with a smile and hearty, “Thank you!” It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but now it feels great.

Don’t believe me, ladies? Just give it a try.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST
Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

Now available on NetGalley.

My thanks to author and blogger Stuart Aken for reviewing my novel Wild Horses on the Salt.

“The characters, an essential element of any fictional work, are real people. There are no carboard cut-outs here. They are well presented, warts and all. But, as with any author thoroughly at home with their characters, they are drawn with compassion and love. Even the wicked antagonist is given some reason for his appalling actions.”

Stuart Aken

Wild Horses on the Salt, by Anne Montgomery: #BookReview.

A WOMAN FLEES AN ABUSIVE HUSBAND

AND FINDS HOPE IN THE WILDS OF THE ARIZONA DESERT.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

Order your copy here: http://mybook.to/wildhorsespb

Recently, I looked up the origin of the phrase Rainbow Bridge, the place our pet friends who’ve passed on are said to go. I read the first paragraph of a story and promptly started to cry.

Another time, I was watching the news and one of those adopt-homeless-pets ads filled the screen. That sad doggy face assaulted me, forcing me to quickly change the channel and wipe the tears from my cheeks. Then there’s the news itself, rife with starving children and man’s inhumanity to man, and bingo! I’m crying again.

I find I have the same reaction to certain TV shows and films. I see a flick with cute sailors in their uniforms, think of my World War II veteran Dad who died a few years back, and crumble. I watched a baby humpback on a Discovery program being harassed by killer whales and had to turn the station.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture. The thing is, I didn’t used to cry so much. I always considered myself a tough girl. I realize my past careers in sportscasting and officiating—where, as you can well imagine, crying was verboten—may have played a part in my previous lack of tears. And so I wonder if I stored them up too long and now they just need somewhere to go.

It is normal for humans to cry. In fact, in moderation, it seems to be quite therapeutic. Did you know that in Japan there are crying clubs where people get together to blubber their hearts out? The idea is called rui-katsu or tear seeking. According to data from the International Study on Adult Crying—not making this up—the Japanese are near the top of the list for those least likely to shed a tear. Because of all that stoicism, these clubs have become quite popular. (For those who are wondering, Americans are among those most likely to sob, whimper, and wail.)

The good news is, scientifically speaking, crying is said to have a positive biochemical function. It seems weeping might release stress hormones or toxins from the body.

But none of this addresses the reason why that, as we age, we tend to become more emotional. So, I gave it a good think and came up with a completely unscientific answer to the question. I believe our crying is all about memories. The older we are, the more life experiences we’ve encountered. Those memories can be summoned by a picture, a song, a smell, a TV show, and even the food we eat. These stimuli tickle something in our brains that take us back to moments that were important to us, as in the Rainbow Bridge scenario where we recall our lovely pet pals that have moved on.

Maybe, too, we are just more at ease with our emotions when we’re older, having thrown off the shackles that admonished us to never let anyone see us cry. And I for one have decided to embrace my new found weepiness. What changed my mind? Watching my sweetie pie swipe tears from his face as we watched My Octopus Teacher, the Oscar Award winning documentary about a man’s relationship with a sweet sea creature that would die on his watch.

If my big tough guy can cry, well then, so can I.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST


Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Register & Order Online: TouchPointPress.com/Bookstore
Orders: info@touchpointpress.com
Also from Ingram and major retailers

Get your copy here

When being a sportscaster paid my bills, it seemed only one thing was really important. My knowledge of sports? My engaging personality? My ability to write stories. My golden-toned voice?

No, sports fans, it seems none of those things were the least bit crucial. You see, the most critical part of my job was my ability to style my hair. Which is pretty silly in retrospect, but which is true, since even now I find myself watching the local news and exclaiming,  “Geez! What’s with your hair?”

You’d think since I know better that I’d cut those anchors some slack. But…I don’t.

I fully remember the day I spoke with my mom following a show that went in spectacular fashion. “How’d you like SportsCenter last night?” I asked proudly. There was a brief pause before she replied. “I didn’t like your hair.”

Sigh…

I should have realized just how important my locks were when I got my first job in TV in Columbus, Georgia. They took a quick look at me, decided they didn’t like my straight tresses, and proceeded to have my hair permed. What followed was a constant progression of consultants who criticized my clothes, my makeup, my jewelry, and, most importantly, my hair.

I recently read an article titled “Ten Reasons Why Your Hair is the Most important Part of Your Look.” The reporter opined that nice hair enhances your beauty, can make you look like a professional or a bum, gives you confidence, and will make you feel smarter. I considered that last comment and couldn’t quite agree. Sherly Temple ringlets did not make me feel like I was a member of MENSA.

Note that hairstyling is certainly nothing new. Take, for example, the 30,000-year-old sculpture now known as the Venus of Willendorf. As you can see, our Paleolithic ancestors were already well into braids by then. And today there’s a lot of money in the global hair care market, which is expected to grow to $87 billion dollars annually by 2023.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a nice coif, but I do wish my former employers prized me for other things, like, you know, my interviewing skills or how nice I am. (Note that the latter is still under contention, since I wasn’t always nice. I’m working on it.) In any case, it appears our fixation with hair is here to stay, so I’m just going to roll with it. That said, I hope the local anchors understand when I yell at the TV.

PS

I’ve decided that if I’d had to choose between sportscasting and officiating, I’d have just blown whistles, since nobody cared about my hair on the gridiron.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST
Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

One day, when I was a sportscaster at ESPN, I became enthralled by a story I read. It was about a young college football player who was pursuing a career as a doctor. The young man had recently discovered a gene marker that could one day lead to advancements in the way we treat heart disease. Because of this, he’d been invited to give a talk before 200 doctors.

How cool is that?

In his spare time, the young man played wide receiver on his college team at Washington University in St. Louis. On top of that, he’d been adopted by a man who played football in the NFL.

“I’d love to do this story!” I announced to my newsroom brethren. I was shocked when all I got was silent stares.

“It’s a great story, don’t you think?”

“No!” someone called out. “Washington University is a Division III school. No one cares about them.”

“I think you’re missing the point,” I said. “Brilliant kid. Adopted. Dad plays in the NFL. Despite rigorous studies, he still finds time to play football.” I scanned the room.

Crickets.

When I later took the idea to my boss, he agreed with all the others. This was not a story ESPN was interested in.

That is, until it was.

The next day, when Sports Illustrated hit the stands with a feature on the kid, opinions on the story changed course instantly.

“You’re going to St. Louis,” my boss announced.

So, I flew to Missouri to meet with the young man, who turned out to be charming and brilliant. Now I don’t recall any special reaction to the story, it was the reticent treatment I received in suggesting the idea that remains.

A few years later, I faced another news director who I thought might be interested in hiring me. He asked about my ideas on covering sports stories.

“I like to look at the people who play and coach the games,” I said. “Who they are underneath their uniforms?”

“No one cares about that!” he shot back. “It’s only about the numbers. The statistics.”

“I don’t agree,” I said.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that I didn’t get the job, despite having a worked at four other TV stations at that point.  Still, if you fast forward to today, where the lives of players on and off the field are on bright display everywhere, I think maybe I was just a wee bit ahead of my time.

I’d like to think a good story is a good story whether the subject matter is news, politics, or sports. I’d like to think that numbers aren’t the point. The people are. Where they’ve come from. The problems they’ve faced. Their successes and failures. Their hopes and dreams. It’s this information that allows viewers—especially those of us without any fabulous skills—to relate to famous people.  To see ourselves in them.

While I realize there are those who would argue the point, all I can say is that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST
Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison: media@touchpointpress.com

Get your copy here

My thanks to Rose at Rose Auburn-Writing and Reviews for her review of my novel Wild Horses on the Salt.

Wild Horses On The Salt (roseauburn.com)

A WOMAN FLEES AN ABUSIVE HUSBAND

AND FINDS HOPE IN THE WILDS OF THE ARIZONA DESERT.

Published by Liaison – A Next Chapter Imprint

Rebecca Quinn escapes her controlling husband and, with nowhere else to go, hops the red-eye to Arizona. There, Gaby Strand – her aunt’s college roommate – gives her shelter at the Salt River Inn, a 1930’s guesthouse located in the wildly beautiful Tonto National Forest.

Becca struggles with post-traumatic stress, but is enthralled by the splendor and fragility of the Sonoran Desert. The once aspiring artist meets Noah Tanner, a cattle rancher and beekeeper, Oscar Billingsley, a retired psychiatrist and avid birder, and a blacksmith named Walt. Thanks to her new friends and a small band of wild horses, Becca adjusts to life in the desert and rekindles her love of art.

Then, Becca’s husband tracks her down, forcing her to summon all her strength. But can she finally stop running away?

Get your copy here.

Sixty-seven percent of American households have pets, which equates to about 85 million families. If you are fortunate enough to live with an animal friend, you understand that there is give-and-take involved in that relationship.

I’ve had pets all my life, primarily dogs and cats with some birds and fish thrown in over the years. With the exception of the fish—which I mostly kept when I was a child—all of these creatures came from the streets or shelters or from people who could no longer care for them. I’ve lived with several dozen cats and ten dogs–most of whom lived long happy lives.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

No matter how bad your mood or how crappy your day, that wagging tail or headbutt when you open the door can make all the cranky disappear. While I abhor clichés, the “unconditional love” trope is completely understandable to pet people.

But residing with pets is not always magical. For example, there’s the furniture conundrum, especially for those of us who must keep some pets indoors. I have a deaf kitty named Westin and his BFF Morgan, neither of whom leave the house. That means chairs second as scratching posts. For a long time, this bothered me and had me considering new furniture, which my sweetie pie pointed out would just give the cats more expensive places to claw. And so, over time, I adapted. That chair with the white fluff coming out of it no longer disturbs me. (Well, most of the time anyway.) Pet owners understand that they can love their furniture or their pets, but not both.

Then there are the bills. Once, I was called home from work where I found my cattle dog Bella whimpering terribly. “She probably has a broken leg or ruptured Achilles tendon. You’re looking at between two and three thousand dollars for surgery,” my vet said, before whisking my dog away for X-rays. But when the diagnostics were completed, the vet looked a bit sheepish. “There’s nothing wrong with Bella,” she said. “I think she’s just a drama queen.” When I was handed the bill for $623, I squinted at my dog. “Really, Bella?” Which earned me a few tail thumps.

My cat Westin was found abandoned in a hotel room with 29 other cats. He lingered at the Humane Society because of skin and ear issues, but when my youngest foster son pointed out that Westin was like him—since no one had wanted him either—I found myself with a pet whose upkeep exceeds the combined expense of every animal I’ve had in my life. When the vet asks if I want an itemized bill, I say, “Absolutely not!” and hand over my credit card. And yet when Westin curls onto my lap every night, it seems money well spent. (See how we pet people justify ourselves?)

Of course, the most difficult part about being pet parents are those end-of-life decisions. Even when said pet has lived a long, healthy life, the end is excruciating. My sweetie pie, who by all accounts is a big tough guy, still wears his dog’s ID tag on a chain around his neck. His Baby gave him almost 18 years and those last moments at the vet were heartbreaking. I’ve been in that special room at the animal hospital too many times, and yet despite the sadness of losing a friend, I can’t imagine living without animals.

They give us so much for so little in return. Even Bella, the drama queen.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

TouchPoint Press

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST


Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Register & Order Online: TouchPointPress.com/Bookstore
Orders: info@touchpointpress.com
Also from Ingram and major retailers

Get your copy here

Old age rears its ugly head in the strangest places.

I had just had a lovely massage. Well, lovely doesn’t really describe the thumbs and elbows that get pressed into my flesh weekly by Chinese reflexologists who strive to keep me upright. In any case, I was walking through the parking lot post massage on my way to Trader Joe’s when my sweetie pie handed me a cold bottle of water. I took a drink and it went down the wrong way, which caused me to cough and, ipso facto, triggered a back spasm the moment I walked through the door.

“Ow…ow…ow!’

“What?” Ryan stared over the grocery cart.

“I have a back spasm!” I grabbed my angry tailbone and tried to think about what I’d come in to purchase. “Ow!” Then I turned and ran up the nearest aisle. Butter, bread, eggs, cheese. No help at all. I rounded the corner and hurried down the next aisle. Frozen foods: Mandarin Orange Chicken, Angus Beef Burgers, ice cream, popsicles. Nothing useful. Halfway down the row, my back pulsing like a bass drum, I began to despair. And then I saw a bag of frozen corn. I scooped the red-and-yellow sack from freezer with the intention of inserting it into my pants.

But…my logical brain made me pause. There were shoppers all around me. What would they think if they saw me shoving corn under my shirt? So, I ran to the end of the aisle, corn in hand, bolted around the bend, and scooted to the checkout line. There I found Olivia, a nice young woman Ryan and I spoke with every week.

“Olivia! I’m going to buy this!” I held up the bag. “But I have to put it in my pants first!”

Lovely girl that she is, Olivia didn’t skip a beat. She smiled. “That’s fine!”

And so, I slid that gloriously frozen bag of corn into my shorts. But I still had shopping to do and while I tried to concentrate the pain persisted. And then the bag of corn started falling down my leg. “Is there a restroom?”

Ry pointed to what looked like a far-off corner. I toddled in that direction, sensing the bag of corn slipping from its perch in my pants. What if it dropped to the floor? Would the people behind me assume I was a shoplifter? My brain whirled. Would I be arrested? Surely, I could explain.

Once inside the restroom, I adjusted the bag of corn. While I had to waddle a bit to keep it in place, I thought it would stay put, but as I walked through the store that cold bag started to slip again, so I had to slap my hand over my butt to keep it in place. Yes, I wondered what that looked like from behind, but surely my hand on my own backside was far better than having that bag of corn plop down at my feet.

“What else do we need to get?” Ry asked.

“Nothing!” I really needed to sit on that corn to get the spasm to stop, so we both zoomed into Olivia’s checkout line. I suddenly realized the corn needed to be scanned. I briefly considered retrieving another bag, but knew I’d never make it to the frozen food aisle and back without a corn accident.

Ry, as always, came to the rescue. “Give me the bag.”

I dug my hand into my shorts and proffered the corn. When Olivia reached out for it, Ryan waved his hand. “I’ll scan it for you.”

Once inside the car, I placed my bottom on the frozen bag and waited while the pain subsided. (Cold is rather magical.)

Later, when we got home, I went to throw the corn away, but Ry stopped me. “Just put it in the freezer,” he said.

“I think we should throw it out.”

“It’s fine.”

So, in the freezer it remains. Now, every time I open the drawer, that bag of corn stares at me accusingly.

“I paid for you,” I mumble as I close the door, noting perhaps a little gratitude is in order. “Thank you for saving my butt.”

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

THE CASTLE

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST


Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Register & Order Online: TouchPointPress.com/Bookstore
Orders: info@touchpointpress.com
Also from Ingram and major retailers

Get your copy here

I am delighted to announce that my new novel, The Castle, will be published by TouchPoint Press on September 13, 2021.

ANCIENT RUINS, HAUNTED MEMORIES, AND A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL COMBINE WITH A TOUCH OF MYSTIC PRESENCE IN THIS TAUT MYSTERY ABOUT A CRIME WE ALL MUST ADDRESS.

The Castle

Anne Montgomery

Contemporary Women’s Fiction/Suspense

TouchPoint Press

September 13, 2021

Maggie, a National Park Ranger of Native American descent, is back at The Castle—an ancient pueblo carved into a limestone cliff in Arizona’s Verde Valley. Maggie, who suffers from depression, has been through several traumas: the gang rape she suffered while in the Coast Guard, the sudden death of her ten-year-old son, and a suicide attempt.

One evening, she chases a young Native American boy through the park and gasps as he climbs the face of The Castle cliff and disappears into the pueblo. When searchers find no child, Maggie’s friends believe she’s suffering from depression-induced hallucinations.

Maggie has several men in her life. The baker, newcomer Jim Casey, who always greets her with a warm smile and pink boxes filled with sweet delicacies. Brett Collins, a scuba diver who is doing scientific studies in Montezuma Well, a dangerous cylindrical depression that houses strange creatures found nowhere else on Earth. Dave, an amiable waiter with whom she’s had a one-night stand, and her new boss Glen.

One of these men is a serial rapist and Maggie is his next target. In a thrilling and terrifying denouement, Maggie faces her rapist and conquers her worst fears once and for all.

REVIEW COPIES OF THE CASTLE AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST

Contact: Chelsea Pieper, Publicity Manager, Media Liaison

Review/interview requests: media@touchpointpress.com

Register & Order Online: TouchPointPress.com/Bookstore
Orders: info@touchpointpress.com
Also from Ingram and major retailers

Get your copy here