Mystery author Paty Jager lives and writes about life close to nature.

Mysteries in the Mountains with Paty Jager

Paty Jager started out writing romance novels, but then shifted to her true love – writing mysteries. In this episode we discuss her Gabriel Hawke series, featuring a Fish and Wildlife trooper who is an expert tracker. Paty also shares that in an upcoming book, Gabriel travels to Iceland and solves a murder there. (Remember when we could travel?)

In the introduction I mention the successful launch of Lark Underground. The book reached #46 on the Amateur Sleuth list in Canada, which was very exciting! Thank you to everyone who has read or is reading the book. Your support means the world to me.

My next big push is to get honest reviews for the book, so if you have a moment to leave a review I’d appreciate it. Reviews provide social proof so new readers can feel confident about their purchase. And they help me to advertise the book so that I can find new readers who might enjoy it.

Such a good mystery. This story is an emotional heart-engaging roller-coaster. I enjoyed it from beginning to end. I can hardly wait for the next one.

Sandee L

This week’s mystery author

Paty Jager

Paty Jager is an award-winning author of 44 novels, 8 novellas, and numerous anthologies of murder mystery and western romance. All her work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of humor and engaging characters. 

Paty and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural eastern Oregon. Riding horses and battling rattlesnakes, she not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it. 

You can learn more about Paty and all her books at PatyJager.net

Press play (above) to listen to the show, or read the transcript below. Remember you can also subscribe to the show on Apple Podcasts. And listen on StitcherAndroidGoogle PodcastsTuneIn, and Spotify.

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Excerpt from Murder of Ravens

Chapter One

Murder of Ravens Paty Jager

The threat of potential poachers wouldn’t spoil Hawke’s day. He glanced up through the pine and fir trees at the late August summer sky to appreciate the blue sky and billowy white clouds. Half a dozen shiny black ravens circled above the trees half a mile away. So much for thinking he’d come upon the poachers before they did any damage. 

He and Dog, his mid-sized, wire-haired, motley mutt, had picked up the trail of two people on horseback with a pack horse at sunrise. He’d started the pursuit after finding spent cartridge rounds at a spot where they had stopped. Only poachers would be carrying rifles during bow season and following an elk trail. From the circling birds, he feared they were too late to stop an unlawful kill. 

He’d used the Bear Creek Trail to patrol Goat Mountain in the Wallowa Whitman National Forest and check bow hunters for tags. 

He whistled for Dog to stop.

“Easy, Dog. We’re going to go slow the rest of the way.” Hawke dismounted, trailing his horse and pack mule behind him. It took longer to reach the kill site by walking, but he didn’t want to chance surprising a bear, wolf, cougar, or the poachers.

He picked his way through the brush, being mindful of the scraping noises from the packsaddle being caught in the limbs of young growth pines. Any other time he wouldn’t have minded. The fresh pine scent from the abuse to the limbs, filled his nostrils.

Dog’s tail started whipping back and forth when they were twenty feet from the area where the birds circled. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve become friends with the bears and cougars on this mountain,” Hawke whispered, easing out of the thicket and into a small clearing. 

A woman was bent over what appeared to be a man’s body. He noted the backpack on the ground by the woman and knew why Dog’s tail wagged. Biologist Marlene Zetter. She traveled this area keeping tabs on the wolf bands that had made their way to Northeast Oregon from the Northern Rocky Mountains. 

“What are you doing with a body, Marlene?” 

The woman in question lunged to her feet and spun to face him. Her gaze latched onto him, skimming from his cowboy boots, jeans, denim jacket, to his face under the brim of a western hat. The panic on her face disappeared as she recognized him. 

“Hawke! You nearly scared ten years off my life.” 

Dog bounded toward the woman.

“Dog! Sit!” ordered Hawke.

The animal flopped down on his haunches, obeying the command. 

“What are you doing up here alone and leaning over a man’s body?” Hawke dropped his reins and walked over to the body and woman, studying the ground and taking care to not cover any tracks.

She pointed downward. “That’s what brought me here.”

Hawke scanned the dusty camouflage boots, pants, jacket, orange transmitter collar around the man’s neck, and unseeing eyes. He whistled. “Why does he have one of your collars?”

She shook her head. “We were doing a count in the area. Roger is up in the helicopter. He gave me quadrants for about a mile to the north, but as I worked my way that direction, I stumbled over this.” 

“Did you touch anything?” Hawke walked her fifteen feet back from the body. 

“No. I’d just knelt beside him when you arrived.” She glanced around him toward the body. “Why is he wearing a tracking collar?”

“I don’t know. Stay here. I’ll start my investigation.” Hawke walked over to Horse, his pack mule, and retrieved a camera. “If you have radio access, notify dispatch. Tell them I have a body. We’ll need the medical examiner and a retrieval team.” 

He didn’t wait for Marlene to reply. His digital camera, radio, and cell phone were the only pieces of current technology he used when on duty as a game warden in the Eagle Cap Wilderness. Before he began documenting the area with his camera, he did a quick look for footprints. He found Marlene’s. She came from a southeast direction. He noticed two sets of tracks, one of which matched the boots on the victim, that came from the northwest. The other set came to where the man lay, there were a few scuffed marks. As if the person were hesitant to view the body. A squeamish killer? He followed the set of tracks that returned to the trees and discovered the distinct shoe prints of the two saddle horses and pack horse he’d tracked all day. This was one of the men he’d been tracking. 

“I didn’t hear any shots. How did they get a wolf collar?” He glanced around at the ground, brush, and trees, searching for any sign of a struggle or blood. 

Nothing.

Aware he’d left Marlene alone with the victim, he took photos of the impressions and hurried back to the opening. 

The biologist remained in the same spot he’d left her. Her back to the victim. 

“Do you know him?” Hawke asked, approaching the body and snapping pictures. 

“He looks familiar, but I can’t put a name to him.” She held up her radio. “I contacted Roger. He’s calling dispatch.”

“Thanks.” Hawke patted Dog on the head when he walked by. “Stay.”

Once he had all the photos, he walked over to Horse and pulled evidence bags, a marker, and latex gloves from the pack. He never knew what would help in an investigation and made a thorough search around the body for anything that didn’t appear to belong in the clearing. He had gathered a small collection when he crouched by the body. 

A long hair clung to the victim’s shoulder. It wasn’t coarse like mane or tail hair. The color was close to Marlene’s two-tone brown-blonde. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt that it could have fallen when she looked down, but it was evidence and went in a bag. 

Hawke had come across dozens of deaths as an Oregon Fish and Wildlife State Trooper. Judging from the bulging, blood-shot eyes, red dotted face, and scratch marks on the neck where the victim had tried to take the collar off, he’d say the man had been strangled. A check of the bolts and the tightness of the collar made him wonder how someone could have wrestled with a man this size to get the collar tightened. The bolts would have had to have been in place. He mimicked the actions it would have taken to put the collar on and then tighten it. Not an easy feat on a man of the victim’s size. 

Yet, there was no sign of a struggle. “Accidental or on purpose?” Talking to himself was his custom from spending so many days and hours alone with his horse, mule, and dog.

“What did you say?” Marlene asked. 

“Nothing.”

He felt the pockets for a wallet or identification and noticed the victim’s belt wasn’t latched in its natural hole. It was one hole looser. Had someone else tightened his belt? Or had the belt been the murder weapon and the collar put on after the man was incapacitated? He took a photograph.

 A cell phone was in the coat pocket along with a wad of tissues. These were placed in evidence bags. Rolling the body on its side, he scanned the area under the body. The ground appeared more disturbed than from a body lying on it. Tuffs of grass had been unrooted. The retrieval team would look for evidence under the body. He found a wallet in the back pocket of the man’s camo pants. A quick flip revealed a driver’s license. Ernest Cusack, 20456 Elm Loop, Alder, Oregon. The victim was a local. 

The wallet was bagged along with coins, a pocket knife, and lip balm found in his front pockets. There didn’t seem to be any other evidence to collect. 

Back at the mule, he put all the evidence bags in the pack and pulled out a small tarp. He walked back to the body and placed the tarp over the victim, using rocks to hold it down.

“Now what do we do?” Marlene asked. 

Hawke walked over to his horse and started unsaddling the animal. “We wait.”

“You know no one is going to get up here before tomorrow.” She shouldered her pack. 

“Put that down. You’ll have to remain until the others get here.” He walked over and slipped her pack off her shoulder. “Make camp. You’re staying here.” 

She peered up at him. “I didn’t bring overnight gear.”

“I’ll share.” He walked over to his horse. 

After placing his saddle upside down on the ground under a tree and tying Jack, the horse, out on a weighted tether away from any trees, he took the pack and saddle off Horse and tethered the mule as well.

Dog settled himself on the ground between Marlene and Hawke. 

“I didn’t bring a lot of supplies with me.” Marlene leaned her pack against a tree, using it as a backrest. 

“How did you plan to get off the mountain before dark?” Hawke tossed her a package of vacuum sealed jerky. His forefathers had survived for days with pemmican, a mash of dried salmon and berries. He survived most trips on the mountain with jerky, freeze-dried meals, and granola bars. 

“Roger planned to pick me up at Wade Flat.” She opened the jerky. “Thanks.”

“You’ll have to radio him to come back for you tomorrow.” Hawke studied the woman. They had met at several Fish and Wildlife public meetings where the locals voiced their concerns about the growing population of wolves in the county. Ranchers had lost cattle to the wolves, making them angry at the animal and at Fish and Wildlife. 

Some had tried using the nonlethal methods biologists suggested to keep livestock safe. But the wolf was cunning. Hawke’s ancestors had revered the wolf for his fur, his cunning, and how they worked as a pack to feed everyone. His ancestors also knew the consequences of too many wolves in one area. Not only did cattle get eaten, but so did deer, elk, and mountain goats, staples of the Nez Perce over a century ago. 

“Roger, this is Marlene,” the woman said into the large radio she held in her hand.

Garbled words crackled in the air. “Dispatch wants Hawke to call them.”

“Did you hear that?” Marlene asked. 

Hawke grunted and knelt by his pack. His radio was in the side with all the evidence and his forensic kit.

“Hawke won’t let me leave. Meet me same time tomorrow afternoon at Wade Flat.” 

“Copy.”

The crackling sound ended and the forest sounds settled around them again.

Hawke glanced in the sky. With the body covered, the birds had stopped circling. The rest of the night would be spent keeping the ground scavengers from destroying the body. 

He turned on his radio, listened to the crackle, and held the button down. “Hawke checking in.” He raised his fingers off the button and listened. 

“Is the body contained?” 

“Yes. I’m holding a witness until the others arrive.”

“ETA for body retrieval is ten-hundred tomorrow.”

“Copy.” Hawke turned the radio off, replaced it in the pack, and pulled out his filtered water bottle and a plastic bottle of water he hauled around in case he came upon a dehydrated hiker or needed it for cleaning a wound when there wasn’t any water available.

“Here.” He tossed the plastic bottle to Marlene. “Use this to drink. Should be a small stream to the east if you want to wash up.” 

“I crossed it shortly before coming into the clearing.” She held up the water. “Thanks, again.”

He nodded and tore into his bag of jerky. The day had been spent in the saddle with only a stop to refill his water bottles and stretch his legs. He’d hoped to catch the two he’d tracked before dark. Instead, he would watch over the victim and keep an eye on his suspect.

It would be a long night. 

Chapter Two

A full moon lit up the clearing like early dawn. Grays and blacks were highlighted in golden moon glow. Good for keeping an eye on the body. Hawke waved his hand, and Dog chased away a curious coyote. 

Marlene stirred under the blankets Hawke had given her, but didn’t wake. 

He was thankful she’d not tried to make small talk before making a bed and closing her eyes. By her furtive glances, she knew she was at the top of his suspect list. Not his list. He’d hand her and the evidence over to whoever arrived tomorrow and go after the man’s partner. His best work happened out in the wilderness, not at a desk behind a computer. 

Finding the second poacher would most likely find who put the collar on the victim’s neck and strangled him. It was either a cold-blooded killer or a joke that went wrong. Either way, he would find the person. 

Dog made several circles around the body, before returning to Hawke’s side.

“Good boy.” Hawke stroked the smooth hair on Dog’s head and scanned the area where he’d tethered Horse and Jack. They were both munching on the grass and flicking their tails.

By the moon, he guessed it to be after midnight. If Dog stayed vigilant, he could get an hour or two of sleep. 

His eyelids lowered, his mind cleared…

Howling wolves straightened his spine and raised the hair on his arms. 

Dog sat up.

Hawke grabbed the animal’s collar before he dashed off. 

Marlene stirred. “Did I hear wolves?”

“Yes. Go back to sleep. It was several miles away.” The sound had echoed in the draw. He wasn’t positive they were miles away. 

The howling and sharp-pitched, excited yips of the wolves sang of pursuit. He hoped in the opposite direction of them. Keeping a pack of wolves away from the body wasn’t a task he wanted tonight or any night.

Marlene remained sitting up, her head cocked, listening. 

The pursuit call echoed through the forest, standing his hair on end again. This time the calls were closer. 

Hawke shot to his feet, grabbed the ropes dangling from Horse and Jack’s halters and tied them to the highline he’d made earlier between two trees. He didn’t need the animals bolting and dragging their weighted tethers or getting caught up in the long tether ropes, injuring themselves. 

“They’re close,” Marlene said, grabbing her pack and pulling out her laptop. She tapped the keys and a faint beeping started. “I’m picking up number twenty-four-ninety-three. An alpha female.” Her words came out on a rush.

 The beeping grew in volume. 

“She’s coming toward us. And it looks like two others with her have collars.” 

He heard the excitement in her voice. “You aren’t going after them. If they show here, I’m shooting my rifle in the air.” He didn’t want or need the trouble wolves and women brought. 

“Don’t chase them off before I can get a count.” She pulled a book and flashlight out of her backpack. The sound of pages flipping was followed by accelerated beeping. 

“Number twenty-four-ninety-three is from the Minam pack. They had five grown wolves last year. I hope they have pups with them.” Marlene stared at her computer then into the trees on the far side of the clearing. “That’s the way they’re coming from.”

Hawke stared into the trees on the far side of the open area. He didn’t know much about what the computer could register, but the way Dog’s hair bristled down his back, the wolves would be upon them soon. 

Limbs cracked, hooves pounded the earth, and the tang of fear filled the air before a wild-eyed horse burst into the clearing followed by three adult wolves. 

Hawke untied a lasso from his packsaddle. “Keep the horse in the clearing!” he shouted to Marlene. “Get ’em,” he said to Dog. 

As Dog deterred the wolves and Marlene ran along the side of the clearing, keeping the horse from darting into the forest, Hawke swung the loop over his head, running behind the horse. He was just about out of breath when the animal darted to its right. He finally had a clear shot of the animal’s head. 

He let the loop fly. It landed over the horse’s head and around its neck. Hawke ran to the closest tree, wrapping the lariat around once before the horse came to the end of the rope. It stood, shaking and wild eyed. 

Hawke turned his attention to Dog, toying with two of the wolves. 

Where had the third one gone? 

“Grab this rope and try to get the horse to come to you. I’m getting rid of the wolves.” He ran to the tree where he’d set up camp and picked up his firearm. Other Fish and Wildlife State Troopers packed an AR-15. Hawke relied on his trusty pump-action shotgun. He shot in the air, pumped another shell into the chamber, and shot again. The boom of a shotgun did more good when chasing critters away than the spat of an AR-15. By the second shot, Dog was at his side. All three wolves ran back across the clearing and into the trees. 

Hawke glanced at the tarped body. One of the wolves had dragged the tarp a short distance. 

“Hawke, I could use some help,” Marlene called. 

He had a feeling the wolves hadn’t gone far. Not if the one had discovered the body. 

The horse calmed down as Hawke crooned to it in his forefather’s ancient language. 

“What are you saying?” Marlene asked as she walked up with the halter he’d asked her to get from his pack. 

“I’m telling him he is safe. He was a good horse to come to us.” Hawke slipped the halter on the animal’s blond head. He was a nice palomino quarter horse gelding. The horse was one someone would miss in the morning when they wanted off the mountain. 

“Hold your flashlight on his legs,” Hawke said. There were scratches and a couple gashes on the animal’s forelegs and hocks. “It’s a shame. Nice animal like this.”

“Did the wolves do that?” Marlene asked, her voice wobbly.

“Yes and no. The wounds were caused by running him through the brush. But had he not been chased by the wolves, it wouldn’t have happened.” He led the gelding over by Jack and Horse and tied him to the same highline. 

“There is comfort in numbers,” he mumbled to the animals. 

Marlene stood by her pack, writing in her book. 

He picked up his collapsible bucket and shotgun. Hawke stopped beside the biologist. “Take my shotgun. The wolves know there is an easy meal here. If they come back shoot in the air. I’m getting water to doctor the horse.” 

She shot a glance the direction the wolves disappeared and took the shotgun. “What about you? Will you be safe?” 

He grinned and patted where his Glock rested in his shoulder harness under his jacket. “I have Dog and my side-arm with me.” 

Dog arrived at his side. Using his flashlight, Hawke made a direct trail to the small stream twenty yards or better to the east of camp. He took the time alone to take care of personal hygiene. 

Feeling less like a cur who’d rolled in a mud puddle, he filled the bucket with water and headed back to camp. Halfway there, a gun shot rang out. “Go!” he told Dog, who took off through the trees, leaping downed logs and making faster progress than Hawke sloshing water out of the bucket and cursing the thorny bushes grabbing his pant legs. 

Another shot rang out as he rushed into the clearing. Dog chased one of the wolves into the trees on the other side. 

“Dog! Come!” he shouted with what little air he still had in his lungs. If Dog followed the wolf too far, all three would turn on him.

A dark shadow burst from the trees and straight toward him. Hawke’s heart started beating again. He and Dog had been together too long to lose the animal from his own stupidity. 

“You were right. One snuck out of the trees and then another. I waited until all three had emerged and shot.” Marlene was out of breath as she hurried over to where he and Dog stood. 

“Keep the shotgun until I get the horse doctored. Then Dog and I will make camp by the body.” Hawke didn’t like sitting practically on top of the deceased for the remainder of the night, but he wanted a body left in the morning when his associates arrived. 

Interview with Paty Jager

Alexandra: Great job. Thanks so much, Patty. 

Paty: You’re welcome. 

Alexandra: Tell us a little bit about Gabriel’s background. He’s a Fish and wildlife officer.

And he he has a grandfather who was Native American, is that right? 

Paty: Yes, he grew he actually grew up on the Umatilla Indian Reservation. So he is part Nez Perce and Cayuse, which is another small tribe that would appear in Oregon or Oregon, Washington area. And he he went off into to the military.

When he came back, he joined the state police. And then he finally got on as Fish and Wildlife.

Alexandra: How did you create this character? Is he inspired by anyone you know? 

Paty: No, he pretty much came just in my head. I grew up in LA County and it always frustrates me that it was such an important place to the Nez Perce. 

And yet we never heard hardly anything about. They weren’t even allowed in the county for a very long time because of the treaty that was made and then when they were fighting with the army and were sent away, then they weren’t the ones that they sent, we weren’t allowed to come back to the county. So it’s it’s always been frustrating for me.

I like writing these books the best that show where they came from. And then a little bit of how they were not allowed back, I guess. But I can bring them back with my characters. I can allow them back in the county and show that they were there. They are present type of thing.

But they are back now in the last ten, fifteen years. They actually happened buying up some land in the county and setting up a visitor center site and things like that that show the history. So it’s nice. 

Alexandra: Interesting. So it’s kind of giving agency or offering a sense of justice in a way through through fiction, which is something I love as well. 

Paty: Right. And over the years I’ve noticed in all of my books, the main theme in them is justice. But it worked well with writing mysteries because you always have to find that justice or find the killer in the end. But I’ve noticed even with my romance book, there’s always that feeling in them.

Alexandra: That leads me to one of my other questions, which is about you. You write several series and as we mentioned, you’ve written so many books in your bio.

How do you decide what to write next? 

Paty: I’ve been writing romance now for about a half a year or so.

I enjoy writing mysteries so much that those stories have been coming to me faster and with more impact than the ones to write romance. It’s because I think I’m more interested in it at the moment. Well, I always have been. That’s what I wanted to write when I first started, but I couldn’t figure out how to get it done.

I had gone to Romance Writers of America. And then I ended up writing romance through that and then I just told myself, you know what you’ve always wanted to write? Mystery. Just do it.

I started with the Shandra Higheagle mysteries. And then when they got such a good reception, then it was like, OK, this is what I’m supposed to be doing. So I wanted to keep going.

And I thought, well, I’d better have another series in case I decide to stop Shandra one. So that’s what I came up with Gabriel.

Shandra Higheagle also has a Native American protagonist.

She’s not a policeman. She’s an amateur sleuth. So she’s a lot of fun. And I picked her first because I have her only half Native American. And she was kept away from that side of her family growing up. So as she is learning more about her family, and I’m learning more about that heritage.

I felt I could give it more credence to that character by doing it at that way. With Gabriel, I am not a man and I am not Native American, so I’m just hoping I’m doing justice to the character as I write in stories and things. 

When an idea hits me, then I just write. 

Alexandra: You just take it from there.

I think there are five or six books in the Gabriel Hawk series so far?

Paty: Yes, number five and it will be out in June. Fox Goes Hunting and it’s actually set in Iceland because I went there on a trip last year. And while I was there, I went there with the idea if I could do something interesting, I might be able to set a book here. 

After I got there and the setting was just so cool. When we went to the boiling mud pools, they are geothermal underneath that island, and they had a boiling mud pool. And I imagined seeing a body laying in one. And I’m like, okay. 

I know how the person’s is gonna be killed. And then I just kind of worked on the story from there. And then I was really lucky to find out that every two years they hold a huge search and rescue conference that people from all over the world come to. 

So I could have Gabriel go there to teach. That’s how I have a new book coming out in June, set in Iceland.

Alexandra: Amazing.

Did you write it while you were there in Iceland or did you just collect ideas and then write it when you got home? 

Paty: I just collected the information right there. And I just finished writing it this week. 

Alexandra: That must have been so fun to find the ideas there in Iceland. 

Paty: Yeah, and it was funny because there was a group of authors there, Authors Guild, that put the two or the trip on. And I went with them and I was the only genre writer, a mystery writer, and I was looking for a place for a murder to happen. 

And they were constantly telling me about this. So they were having as much fun as me with trying to figure it out. 

Alexandra: That’s great. And so you mentioned your other series with Shandra Higheagle.

Do you do you tend to alternate between the two or do you go with an idea that just grabs your attention. 

Paty: I try to alternate, though, because I have a lot of readers who read both series.

But I have some readers that only read one and some only read the other because the Shandra’s are more of a cozy, but they’re a little darker than a cozy. 

They are cozy. But they’re darker than a cozy because of my subject matter. But those I do like every other. And on those, I’m on number 16 at the Shandra series.

I’ve had people say, well, when are you going to stop those? And I’m like, well, when I can’t come up with any more ideas, I’ll stop them or I start getting reviews and say, this is getting really old.

But they’re so much fun and people like the characters. So I thought, why not keep going with them?

It’s kind of funny because they’re set in a fictional town in Idaho and I made up the whole thing but people could kind of figure out where I set it by some of the real places that I mentioned. But I just made up the whole town so that I didn’t have to deal with finding out all the real information.

And then my Gabriel ones are actually set in the county where I grew up, as I said. But I changed the town name and I gave them some different businesses and things cause I didn’t want people I grew up with thinking I was writing about them as either the murderers or the murdered people or this guy that died. I didn’t want anybody thinking that their name was funny.

I still got a email from a lady. She goes, Oh, it’s so wonderful. You put my uncle in your book. 

And I’m like, I didn’t. And she named the name. And she goes, Oh, he was a policeman. And he was. I’m like, I just pulled the name out of the air. I said, I didn’t know it. It is not your uncle. 

Alexandra: That’s why we put the disclaimer at the front of the book, isn’t it? All the characters are fictional.

Paty: Exactly. I had the disclaimer about the county and there are other things about that that like the mountains and all that. They’re all real, but it’s just the towns that I fictionalized and changed. That’s everything else.

Alexandra: One final question for you then today. Let’s talk a little bit about your writing habits. We mentioned also in your bio that you and your husband run an alfalfa farm.

When do you find time to write when you’re doing that? That sounds like a lot of work. 

Paty: Well, it’s better now than it used to be. They’ve got things set up pretty good. I write a couple hours in the morning and a couple hours in the afternoon and that and then in between all, that’s when we do our thing.

At lunch today, he goes, What are you doing this afternoon? And I’m like, have a podcast. And he’s like, OK, well, when you get that podcast finished come down, we gotta go fix the fence. I’m like, OK.

We work around it. You know how it goes. But I try to get at least four hours of writing in every day. I just fit it around everything.

Alexandr: his has been great, Paty. It’s been such a lovely time chatting with you.

Why don’t you let everyone know where they can find out more about you and your books? 

Paty: You can find out more about me at PatyJager.net. That’s my Web site. It had all of my books, all of my series. You can connect to my newsletter through there. You can connect to my blog through there. So that’s the way to get get to read everything about me is at my website.

Alexandra: Perfect. All right. Well, thanks so much. And I’ll put links to that in the show notes as well. 

Paty: OK, thank you. 

Alexandra: Thanks so much for chatting with me. Take care. 

Paty: All right. Thank you. Thank you for having me. It’s been fun.

Alexandra: My pleasure. Bye bye.