An American Eamon

I met an American Eamon the other day on the Blue Ridge Blog.


I thought he was such a stunning speciman of ovine charm that I asked Marie Freeman, who took the picture and writes the blog, if he would be interested in meeting Abby.

She said of course, which just goes to show what an imaginative creative interesting person she is (because imagine what you would think if you got an email from someone you didn't know asking if a sheep of your acquaintance might be interested in meeting an Irish writer of hers).

So anyway, the Blue Ridge Eamon is eagerly anticipating meeting our very own Abby Green. He's heard that she ditched the Irish Eamon, and he's thinking his chances are good. And now that he's learned that she is coming to the states for the RWA convention in San Francisco in late July, he is determined to meet her there.

I fear he has no concept of exactly how far it is from western North Carolina to Northern California. It'll be a long walk, I told him.

But a sheep can do anything if he puts his mind to it, Eamon says. And absolutely nothing if he puts his mind to that.

Frankly, I'm glad to see the 'can do' American attitude extends to our livestock as well as our humans. And since I'm going to be in SF as well for part of the time, I look forward to seeing them both there. (I'll take pictures).

So, Abby, what do you think? Up for a tryst with an American Eamon?

Anyone up for a wonderful blog with a great local flavor and terrific photos should check out Marie's blog regularly. My husband loves it, having spent many a summer in western North Carolina. And I've added it to my feed reader and am always delighted when she has a new post.

Thanks, Marie, for allowing your sheep to play on my blog! Much appreciated.

Waving from the cave

I got back from Washington LATE last night. Have been unpacking and doing laundry and sorting through the bags trying to remember where I put things today. Have also washed sheets (why do dogs spend every hour of the day on my side of the bed while I'm gone?). And have been sorting through what I need done on the book to call it 'finished.'

Quite a bit. Well, not as much as when I left, but still not there yet.

So I'll be disappearing back into the cave until Monday (with possibly a few forays out to eat and walk dogs and, maybe, post here because I have some nice pix I'd like to put up, but first have to download from camera and then upload to computer).

Am hoping for a pic or two from the cowboy auction for Hope For Horses, too.

If you have read the comments, you will see that, sadly, Abby and Eamon believe they do not suit. Kate and I are quite despondent about this because we truly thought Abby had met her match -- and that surely Eamon had met his. But apparently not.

Ah, well . . . the course of true love rarely runs smoothly.

Perhaps this is a temporary break and they will live happily ever after eventually.

Eamon in Abbyland -- part II

Herewith Eamon in Abbyland, part II . . . in which Eamon and Abby meet and discover their passion for one another and ...

Well, read and see for yourself.

(If you're still reading Kate's The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife, you have permission to finish it before you stop back and read Eamon, part II. If you aren't reading Kate's book, you should)

Eamon In Abbyland -- part II

At Abby's house he heard a new voice. A soft voice with a gentle accent and his heart beat even faster. If you (sorry – if ewe .. ) could fall in love with a voice, then Eamon had done so. But would Abby really love him?

Hands reached into his bag – pulled him out. He was face to face with Abby at last. Well, he would be when she turned him round. At the moment, he was bum to chest with her.

But then Abby turned him round and looked into his face, into his little crossed eyes.

'Eamon!' she said. 'I've been waiting for you all my life. Well – at least since Kate told me that she was bringing you to Ireland to meet me!' And she planted the most passionate welcoming kiss on

Eamon's long brown nose.

Eamon's heart lurched, his chest heaved, his wool fluffed out wonderfully. He was in love. He had met the woman of his dreams. His brain went all woolly and he felt rampant with desire.

He couldn't wait – 'Come with me, my darling,' he whispered. 'I'm feeling a little horny – look at the way my horns are coiled! Come to bed with me and we will make sweet love into the night. You will soon find that I am not mutton dressed as lamb but just the ram for ewe.'

To his delight it seemed that Abby felt the same. She followed him into the bedroom and very soon they were locked in each others arms – er - well, he was in Abby's arms and she was held tight in his four legs. It was the start of a long passionate afternoon.

Some time later Eamon lay back against the pillows, a satisfied smile curving his generous mouth. He was in love and he had found the woman of his dreams. No longer would he have to live at home with his mother and wear the dreadful cardigans she knitted. He had met Abby who was all woman and when he was with her he felt all sheep.

Baaaaah, he sighed. Baaaah Baaah! It was all that he was capable of saying until he recovered from the storm of passion that had gripped him.

But very soon his breathing eased. Desire started to creep over him again, tingling in his veins, warming his blood. Suddenly he became aware of the fat that Abby was no longer with him. She had left his side and he missed her.

'Abby, my ewe lamb,' he called, 'Come back to me. Come and rest your head on my woolly chest. Stroke your fingers over my horns, look deep into my crossed eyes . . .'

Abby was stunned by his powers of recovery.

'What?' she cried sheepishly . 'Again? Oh Eamon, you are a passionate rogue! You have taken my innocence and used me for your pleasure and now you w

ant me again and again! I do not know if I can handle a stud ram like you. I fear you are just toying with me – that you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes and that you will break my heart.'

'But . . .' said Eamon. 'But . . .'

But it was too late, Abby had already fled into the night afraid of the passion he aroused in her.

Silly lamb, Eamon thought to himself. She didn't know a good thing when she saw it.

But she would be back, he knew that. She couldn't resist him. And so he opened a bottle of his favourite white wine – Lost Sheep chardonnay and settled back to wait for her return.

She would come back he knew. She would realise she loved him and then she would come back, bleating for forgiveness.

He just had to wait.

Eamon in Abbyland -- part I

Eamon's Adventures in Abbyland

Once upon a time there was a handsome young sheep named Eamon who lived in a shop window in Louth. He was quite happy there, if a little bored. But he had the street to watch and all the passers by who looked into the window and admired him, but no one took him home.

Then one day a lady novelist called Kate Walker came by the shop and she saw the handsome young sheep and she said –' That is Eamon!'

Eamon of course knew that he was Eamon but he wondered how the lady novelist knew his name. 'You are Eamon,' she said. 'The perfect Eamon for Abby Green. I just know she will love you.'

And the lady novelist came into the shop and asked to see Eamon. The assistant had to climb into the shop window to get him, but it was all worth the effort.

'He is perfect,' said Kate. Abby will love him, even if he is a little cross-eyed. I will take him with me.'

So the assistant put Eamon into a carrier bag and Kate took the bag, and Eamon away with her. She was only visiting Louth for the day so she took Eamon to her home and she took his photograph so that everyone could see what a handsome young sheep (if a little cross-eyed) he was.

The next day Kate said that she had to do some packing. Eamon had no idea what packing was so he was intrigued to see that Kate had put a large suitcase (well, it seemed large to him) on the bed. Suddenly he realised just why the case had to be so big – it had to be large enough to fit him!

'Don't worry, Eamon,' Kate said as she picked up Eamon and carefully placed him in a corner of the big black case. 'You'll be quite safe. You're going on a long journey to Ireland and when you get there you will meet Abby and I know she will fall in love with you.'

So Eamon settled down in his case and got ready for the journey. It was rather dark in there and a little bit bumpy at first but soon things quietened down and eventually he fell fast asleep, only waking up when the case was bumped and banged a bit more .

Suddenly there was a rush of light as the case was opened up once more and Eamon peered out into a new and different room.

'This is Ireland,' said Kate. 'And you are in a hotel in Dublin. Welcome to the Emerald Isle.'

Emerald? Eamon wondered. There was nothing green around him. The room was decorated in gold and pink, and the bed he was sitting on was white. But Kate assured him that he was in somewhere called Emerald, no matter what colour it was around him.

After a while Eamon settled in. He tested out a nice comfy chair, and then he tried the great big bed. It was so big that he felt rather lost in it.

After all the excitement of the travel and arriving in the Emerald places, he started to feel rather hungry. He decided that he was going to need all his strength to handle all this excitement and whatever was coming next so he checked out the best places to eat in Dublin.

Once he'd eaten he got into the great big bed and fell fast asleep, dreaming of suitcases and travelling and all that had happened to him.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast of oats and soda bread, Kate told Eamon that today was the day that he got to meet Abby.' We'll go to her house and you will see her there,' she said. 'And don't worry – Abby will love you. Abby loves Eamons, and she'll just adore you!'

So Eamon brushed his fleece and curled his horns. He even polished up his little black hooves so that he knew he looked his best for Abby who was going to love him.

And when Kate put him into a special travelling bag for the journey to Abby's house his heart was beating fast, his little woolly chest heaving with excitement.

He was going to meet Abby and she would love him at first sight.

* * * * *

Tune in tomorrow . . . and find out what happens when Eamon meets Abby for the first time!

While you're waiting, run out and get your very own copy of Kate's latest book, The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife. Talk about intense!

It will make your woolly chest heave with excitement.

Eamon is coming . . .

Kate Walker went to Ireland last week and she took a friend with her. His name is Eamon. She hasn't known him long, but the minute she met him she knew he and Abby Green absolutely had to meet. (Kate knows a hero when she sees one)

As you may (or may not) recall, Abby does not believe that Eamon is a hero's name. I disagree. We've had several discussions about this and an escalating 'war' of Eamons which has included several post cards, an apron and, most recently, a nightshirt.

Tomorrow, right here, you will get the next installment -- the story of Eamon and his trip with Kate and his meeting with Abby and . . . well, stay tuned.

Many thanks to Kate who told his story -- as only Kate can -- and for taking the time to do so when she was supposed to be out drinking Bewley's and enjoying herself).

I, in the meantime, will be deep in the book.

Eamon and Abby Sitting in a tree . . .

Well, maybe not in a tree and not K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Yet. But things are progressing.

Remember Eamon the sheep that Abby Green sent me from the far reaches of Ireland?

Well, if you don't, here he is. He's on my bookshelf staring down at me as I write.

Remember Eamon's Greek cousin, Mr Bushy Moustache. Abby sent him to me from her trip to Greece (research, don't you know?).

Remember Eamon the Apron (who actually sounds like a Welsh chef, if you ask me) that Abby sent from, um, well, I don't exactly know where. Dublin perhaps?

I thought that all this Eamon sending was getting a little one-sided.

Yes, I've threatened to write her a hero called Eamon. But I'm up to my eyeballs in another book right now. And I need to get back to Seb and Neely at some point. So Eamon-and-Abby The Book might be a ways off.

Consequently I decided she needed a reminder of Eamon in her life. Preferably somewhere she couldn't miss him -- like in her bed.

And so my version of Eamon went winging her way late last week. (Those are little sheep if you can't tell what the black and white things are!)

She says he has arrived. She especially likes the black sheep among the others. I see character development on the horizon.

And other things, too, as now she's gone to bed with him. Quick work, Abby!