Guest post by Love, Canter, Action author Katie Gilbert
Katie Gilbert was born and raised in south Georgia, where she learned that boiled peanuts and grits are the most important part of a balanced diet. She enjoys telling stories about tough girls with big dreams, and the love they find along the way. Outside of writing, she spends her time reading, hiking, and thinking up new ways to slip cringe-worthy puns into daily conversation. Love, Canter, Action is her debut.

About Love, Canter, Action: Saddle up for this swoony YA enemies-to-lovers romance, full of giggles, snark, and heart, perfect for fans of Kasie West and Emma Lord.

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The mornings usually consisted of a flurry of activity—arguments with my mama about whether or not I really had to wear stockings in the oppressive heat and hurried calls from my dad bemoaning our perpetually late status. But the afternoons, those were reserved for begging my parents to drive me across town post-Sunday Southern Soul Food Buffet haze to the house of a new friend each week. Once I was there, I had five blissful hours of peeking into the family life of someone else.

One of those Sundays, my friend Abigail introduced me to my first horse. She took me upstairs to her meticulously organized closet, chocked full of special clothing and boots just for riding horses. I zipped up my first pair of borrowed riding boots (ill-fitting and unnecessary, as you’ll soon find out) and got into the car with her quiet and soft voiced father, wiggling my toes in the extra room of my Ariat’s for the next thirty minutes, buzzing with anticipation. That happy energy stuck with me right until we walked onto her horse farm and next to a mare that was smaller than the stallions we (thankfully) stayed far away from, but still way bigger than I was comfortable with.

That Sunday afternoon on a South Georgia farm taught me three things about myself—I freeze when I’m scared (especially with 1500 pounds of horse staring me down behind a flimsy wooden fence), no amount of coaxing will get me on said horse when I’m not ready, and lastly, that the promise of a stop at Cindy’s gas station on the way home for an RC Cola and a Moon Pie will stop almost all of my tears.

Since then, I’ve gotten a lot closer than the paddock fence. I’ve ridden horses on mountain trails in Montana. Some of my most significant moments involve a horse giving my shirt a soft nibble. Whether you’re still making your way closer to the paddock fence or reading this atop your favorite Appaloosa, here are some horsey stories to spark or stoke your love of those beautiful beasts.

For the foal:

For the yearling:

For the filly: