Wednesday Writers–A Cord of Three Strands by Christy Distler

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A Cord of Three Strands, Book excerpt from A Cord of Three Strands, Christian romance, Christy Distler, clean romance, historical romance, Wednesday Writers

Today’s Wednesday Writer’s guest is author Christy Distler. Christy is sharing some of her family history and how it led to her historical romance A Cord of Three Strands. She also has an excerpt at the bottom of the post, so keep reading to the end.

Welcome Christy!

When I was a child, my mom introduced me to genealogy. This was thirty years ago, so she was doing it the old-fashioned way: visiting libraries, historical societies, vital records offices, and cemeteries. I loved going through all the information she gathered. And going through it again. And again.

Years later, my family signed up for internet service, and that was a game changer. Researching our ancestors was suddenly as easy as typing names and birthdates into a search engine. Of course, not all names returned information. Many didn’t. But my Lucken/Lukens ancestors did, and because some were instrumental in the settlement and building of Philadelphia and the surrounding area, both physically and intellectually, information abounded. Now I was really hooked.

Our Lukens family line was one I was able to trace back to the late Middle Ages. Originally from the Netherlands, they were Mennonites-turned-Quaker who, in 1683, following years of skirting martyrdom during the Reformation, finally took refuge in William Penn’s “religious experiment,” Pennsylvania. After settling Germantown (now a part of Philadelphia), they spread east and north, with my ninth-great-grandfather, Peter Lukens, settling in Horsham Township, at that time a wilderness. This piqued my interest even more, since I’d lived some of my childhood in Horsham and resided less than two miles from Horsham Friends Meeting, which Peter Lukens’s family attended.

My love for genealogy continued, and one evening I came across an ancestor who got my mind turning: Seneca Lukens. His intriguing first name made me wonder about the family’s connection to Indian tribes (at the time, the Seneca lived in northern Pennsylvania and southern New York). From the possible Native American connection, Isaac Lukens—a half-Lenape, half-white young man who had been reared by Horsham Friends—made his way into a dream I had that night.

As a fiction writer, I did what I had to: brought Isaac to life as a main character, along with co-MC Elisabeth Alden, in a story that takes place in Horsham in 1756.

My research for this novel brought to light men and women who followed Christ’s instruction and example no matter the cost. Mennonites and Friends were the first colonists to denounce slavery and the gross mistreatment of Indian tribes, and Friends were instrumental in forging peace between Pennsylvania and the province’s tribes, namely the Lenape, during the French and Indian War. Both of these social issues play major parts in the book, and it is my hope that Isaac and Elisabeth’s story embodies Friends’ devotion to truth, equality, and love for others, as well as the plight of the Lenape people during a turbulent time in American history.

This all said, in an interesting turn of events, I have recently learned through a local historian that Seneca Lukens was more likely named for the Roman philosopher Lucius Annaeus Seneca than for the Seneca tribe. A bit disappointing, but all is not lost. The imagination, whether piqued by truth or speculation, is a wonderful thing.

 

A Cord of Three Strands

by Christy Distler

As 1756 dawns, Isaac Lukens leaves the Pennsylvania wilderness after two years with the Lenape people. He’s failed to find the families of his birth parents, a French trader and a Lenape woman. Worse, the tribe he’s lived with, having rejected his peacemaking efforts, now ravages frontier settlements in retaliation. When he arrives in the Quaker community where he was reared, questions taunt him: Who is he—white man or Lenape? And where does he belong?

Elisabeth Alden, Isaac’s dearest childhood friend, is left to tend her young siblings alone upon her father’s death. Despite Isaac’s promise to care for her and the children, she battles resentment toward him for having left, while an unspeakable tragedy and her discordant courtship with a prominent Philadelphian weigh on her as well.

Elisabeth must marry or lose guardianship of her siblings, and her options threaten the life with her and the children that Isaac has come to love. Faced with Elisabeth’s hesitancy to marry, the prospect of finding his family at last, and the opportunity to assist in the peace process between Pennsylvania and its Indian tribes, Isaac must determine where—and to whom—the Almighty has called him.

 

EXCERPT:

In my bedchamber, I stripped off all but my breeches and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My eyes ached with exhaustion, but that hardly compared to the weariness that plagued my soul. This evening’s visit, though it provided more information than expected, left me overwhelmed by conflicting feelings—joy in the gained knowledge that I’d so long yearned for, yet heartache in the loss of those I’d once loved most.

Then there was Elisabeth.

Would I ever understand my actions when it came to her? I’d been so pleased to find her waiting for me, to know she sensed my frame of mind and cared that I was troubled. Yet I had pushed her away. As soon as she had shown concern, hoping I would confide in her, I used the simplest excuse not to.

’Twas no wonder she couldn’t trust me. Why would she share the difficulties she faced when I so often failed to share mine with her? I longed for the closeness we once had, when we shared our every feeling without a second thought, so why was it so difficult to confess my struggles?

I sighed heavily. Distancing myself from Elisabeth wasn’t my intention. She had always known me best, and no doubt she still did. Only with her had I shared the horrors of what I’d experienced while away, and ’twas her reassurances—and her arms around me—that had comforted me since I’d returned. Even tonight, embracing her had eased the emptiness that gnawed within.

But that posed a problem as well. Elisabeth’s beauty enchanted me, and her sweet affection stirred my heart in ways I dared not act upon. Her courtship with Hiram was now quite evident, whether or not I approved, so we could share nothing more than friendship.

In light of that, my earlier aloofness was a necessity. Her best interest required that we take care in our actions, and I’d never forgive myself if her reputation were to be called into question because of me. While that had not been the reason I’d held back from her downstairs, part of me was now glad that I had.

Still, I cared so much for her. There was no denying that her relationship with Hiram could have grave consequences, but I struggled to discern the extent of my responsibility. Should I respect Elisabeth’s maturity and capability to make her own decisions? Or should I honor my word to Jonathan and do everything I could to protect her and the children? Both choices could result in more sorrow.

“Father, give me wisdom,” I whispered. “Show me what to do.”

Be still and know that I am God. The familiar words of the psalmist came to me in the darkness.

Indeed. In my apprehension, I’d somehow lost sight of the Almighty. He loved Elisabeth, the children, and me, and I knew he had great plans for all of our lives. Throughout my years he had proven that his goodness could be trusted even in the bleakest of circumstances.

I needed to allow and esteem his sovereignty in this situation as well.

Want to read more?

You can find A Cord of Three Strands at  Amazon

 

About the Author:

For as long as she can remember, Christy Distler has dreamed her most vivid dreams with her eyes wide open. Names became people—people who didn’t exist in this time and place but couldn’t have been more real in her heart and mind. So she did the only rational thing: gave them a voice by writing fiction.

Christy’s novels, whether historical or contemporary, delve into betrayal and reconciliation, faith and grace, and always involve the intertwining of cultures. When not writing, she works as an editor for publishing houses and independent authors.

Obsession with words (and history) aside, she lives with her husband, children, and dogs in Pennsylvania, less than two miles from where her Lukens ancestors settled more than three hundred years ago.

SOCIAL MEDIA SITES:  WEBSITE    FACEBOOK    INSTAGRAM

 

Wednesday Writers–The Exile of Elindel, the Elwardian Chronicles Book 1 by Carole Brown

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book excerpt from The Exile of Elindel, Carol Browne, eleves, Fantasy, Wednesaday Writers

 

Today’s Wednesday Writers’ guest, Carole Brown, hails from the UK. Carol will be sharing an excerpt from her epic fantasy novel, The Exile of Elindel, The Elwardian Chronicles Book 1. Carol promises this action adventure book will keep you glued to your E-reader. Welcome, Carol!

 

Exile of Elindel, The Elwardian Chronicles Book 1,

by Carol Browne.

Elgiva, a young elf banished from Elvendom, must seek shelter among the Saxons as her only hope of surviving the coming winter.

Godwin, a Briton enslaved by the Saxons, is a man ignorant of his own inheritance and the secret of power he possesses.

A mysterious enemy, who will stop at nothing to wield absolute power over Elvendom, is about to make his move.

When destiny throws Elgiva and Godwin together, they embark upon the quest for the legendary Lorestone, the only thing that can save Elvendom from the evil that threatens to destroy it.

There is help to be found along the way from a petulant pony and a timid elf boy but, as the strength of their adversary grows, can Elgiva’s friends help her to find the Lorestone before it falls into the wrong hands?

EXCERPT
The night was waning when Elgiva woke, wondering where she was. The dark ceiling of Joskin’s cave hung above her, and everything had a reddish glow, cast by the embers of the fire. She slid from under the fur coverlet, her skin tightening at the loss of its warmth, and searched for her leather sandals.

Something had woken her, something that waited outside the cave. A runnel of dread ran down her spine.

She had an inexplicable sense of impending danger, but it was too insistent to ignore. An unnamed instinct stopped her from alerting her companions. She must face this menace alone.

She left the cave as quietly as she could. Her heart pounded in her throat as she peered between the rowan trees and searched the night. Whatever had awakened her, it beckoned. She held her breath and listened, but her ears detected nothing, save for a silence as dark and empty as an abandoned crypt.

It would soon be daybreak, but the sun had yet to rise, and the dark beyond the cave swarmed with potential horrors. She stepped out from among the rowans, relying on her acute senses to make out her surroundings. An unnatural calm gripped the night and as her sandals whispered against the cold grass, they sounded abnormally loud. She feared they would betray her presence.

After a while, she came to a stop and searched the trees. Thin strands of mist curled along the ground, cold and clammy, like an exhalation of sickness.

She hugged her shoulders, knotted her fingers in the cascade of her hair, and shivered in her ragged robe. All around her, the silence seemed to be drawing into focus.

“Who is it?” Her throat was too dry for her purpose. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Who’s there? I know you’re there. I can . . . I can feel you!”

Feel you.

A flash of silver sliced through the dark, and Elgiva gasped in fear. Her arms came up to shield her face as the beam struck a rock several yards ahead. It exploded with a whoosh and sent up thousands of splinters of light, which fell to the ground and sizzled in the mist.

A shape now stood upon the rock, its form concealed in a black, hooded cloak.

Elgiva clutched the amulet to her breast. Her hands were white with terror. “In the name of Faine, who are you? What sort of trick is this?”

A soft, sly voice spoke back to her. “Why should you fear magic?”

“What do you want?” she pleaded, her voice a croak of fear.

“To see for myself.”

“To see what?”

The dark shape sniggered, but made no answer. Instead, it swept its cloak aside, and a cloud of sparks flew out and covered the ground with beads of light.

Elgiva stepped back unsteadily, resolved to flee.

“Stay!” commanded the creature.

It raised a skeletal hand, and the forefinger swung towards Elgiva and pinned her against the darkness, holding her like a rivet of bone. No elf, no wilthkin, ever owned such a hand. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. This had to be a nightmare; she was still asleep in the cave. But no, it was all too real.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she cried. “I have . . . I have an amulet!”

The creature laughed derisively. “I am Death, and I have come for you.”

It began to radiate a sickly green light, enveloping itself in a caul of brilliance that pulsated with force. The light grew in size until the trees behind it were bathed in its angry glare. It reached for Elgiva, like a foul stench creeping along a breeze, and she was helpless. The creature’s power throbbed in the darkness.

Within the taut coils of her fear, her instincts screamed at her to run, but her limbs had turned to stone.

Siriol, Siriol, help me . . . help . . .

With a shriek of glee, the creature increased the throb of its power. Elgiva’s mind was suddenly invaded by an inexplicable force. She became divorced from herself and watched from a great distance, waiting for the horror to unfold.

Want to read more? You can find Carol’s book at:

Amazon Buy Links

USA – UK

About the Author:

Born in Stafford in the UK, Carol Browne was raised in Crewe, Cheshire, which she thinks of as her home town. Interested in reading and writing at an early age, Carol pursued her passions at Nottingham University and was awarded an honours degree in English Language and Literature. Now living and working in the Cambridgeshire countryside, Carol usually writes fiction but has also taken a plunge into non-fiction with Being Krystyna. This story of a Holocaust survivor has been well received.

Stay connected with Carol on her website and blog, Facebook, and Twitter.

Musings from a Writer’s Brain–Writing is Like Laundry by Karin Beery

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Essay about Writing, Karin Beery, Musings from a Writer's Brain, Practically Married, writing tips

Writing is Like Laundry … by Karin Beery

image courtesy of pixabay

Do you remember the TV show Castle? Author Rick Castle followed detective Kate Beckett around to find inspiration for a new novel. Once he was inspired, he wrote the book, submitted it, and presto! He’s done.

Sort of.

Most people think that’s how authors write and live their lives: write a book and get it published. That’s a massive over simplification. I’ve found that writing a book is more like doing laundry—there are certain steps you need to follow, you’re often working with more than one load at a time, and you repeat the process endlessly. Here’s what I mean:

1. Sort the laundry: plan your story. Writing your manuscript isn’t even the first step! First you need to organize everything, like sorting your whites and colors. You have to figure out your characters, the plot, the setting. Lots of loads.
2. Start washing: now you can write your story. Take all of your information and put it into a captivating manuscript.
3. Dry: edit. (They forgot to show that step on Castle.) Self-edit. Peer edit. Hire an editor. There are many ways to clean up your manuscript.
4. Put away clothes: submit your story.
5. Repeat #2 and #3: has anyone ever done just one load of laundry? Has any writer ever only worked on one story at a time? Not likely. You may have put some clothes away (i.e. submitted one story), but there’s more laundry to go (i.e. more stories to write).

This process continues until the laundry basket (your creativity) is empty. Then, six hours later, it’s full again, and you start the process all over again.

Steps #1-5 are, of course, the perfect scenario. There are always unexpected issues that pop up though:

• Stains (scenes or characters that leave a bad impression)
• Holes (plot holes; characterization holes)
• Frayed hems (conclusions that just don’t work)

You never know when one of these issues will pop up, but you always have to decide—fix it or throw it away? Never easy to do with your favorite yoga pants or your favorite secondary character.

Like any chore, writing can become monotonous if you let it, so I don’t let it! I make sure to break up my writing projects by working with other people, reading, or walking away completely to let my brain reset (while I do a load of actual laundry).

I suppose someday I could run out of ideas, but I hope the creative side of my brain will keep filling up like my laundry basket.

 

While you’re waiting for your laundry to dry—the real stuff, not the book laundry—check out Karin’s book Practically Married

Practically Married

By Karin Beery

Ashley moves to a new town to marry her fiancé. Instead, she buries him.

Ashley Johnson moves to northern Michigan to finally meet her fiancé face-to-face, but she arrives in time to go to his funeral. With no home back in Ohio, she decides to stay in what would have been their house, except his cousin Russ lives there too, and Russ has never heard of Ashley. To complicate matters, her fiancé accidentally willed her the family farmhouse. Eager to please everyone and desperate to disappoint no one, she proposes a marriage of convenience that could solve her and Russ’s problems, if they can get past her aunt, his sisters, and an ex-girlfriend.

 

Excerpt

Ashley turned back to the open refrigerator while she listened to Rob’s footsteps fade away. Cheese, meat, bread, more cheese. She handed everything to Russ. Unlike his paperwork, there was no way he could lose the food between her hands and the kitchen counter.

But what if Russ couldn’t find the deed? What if they weren’t good roommates? Could she get enough work in the next year to save up a down payment on a house? Panic squeezed her lungs. Ignoring the leftover veggie tray and fruit salad, she grabbed the gelatin and set it on the island.

Russ handed her some meat that he’d smashed between bread. “Looks like we can add the farm to our list of things to figure out.” He threw together another sandwich then stood beside her, both of them leaning against the counter, munching away. Russ tore through his food, staring at the floor. Ashley bit into her sandwich, but it gummed up in her mouth. She tossed it on the counter and grabbed the bowl of green, jiggly comfort instead.

Russ opened a drawer in the island. “Spoon?”

“Thank you.” She took the largest spoon and scooped out a mound of lime gelatin and whipped cream. “You know, as crazy as it’s been since I got here, none of this should surprise me. Tom used to do this to me all the time. He’d start talking about something that he forgot to tell me about, then get mad that I couldn’t follow the conversation. It shouldn’t surprise me that he forgot to tell you about me.”

“You should have been his business partner.” Russ crunched into a pickle. “We always had stuff showing up at the farm without explanation. You’re the first bride, though.”

 

About the Author:

Karin Beery grew up in a rural Michigan town, where she wrote her first novel in high school. Today, she writes contemporary stories with a healthy dose of romance. When she’s not writing fiction, she’s reading, editing, or teaching it. In her free time, she enjoys watching University of Michigan football and action-adventure movies with her husband and fur babies.

Links: https://www.facebook.com/authorkarinbeery/
https://twitter.com/karinbeery
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/karin-beery

Wednesday Writers–Blackflies and Blueberries by Sharon Ledwith

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Blackflies and Blueberries, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers, Sharon Ledwith, YA Mystery, YA Paranormal

Sharon Ledwith is my Wednesday Writers guest today. She’s sharing her newest YA paranormal teen psychic mystery Blackflies and Blueberries–book 2 in the Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls series.

Welcome, Sharon

 

The only witness left to testify against an unsolved crime in Fairy Falls isn’t a person…

City born and bred, Hart Stewart possesses the gift of psychometry—the psychic ability to discover facts about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them. Since his mother’s death, seventeen-year-old Hart has endured homelessness, and has learned ways to keep his illiteracy under wraps. He eventually learns of a great-aunt living in Fairy Falls, and decides to leave the only life he’s ever known for an uncertain future.

Diana MacGregor lives in Fairy Falls. Her mother was a victim of a senseless murder. Only Diana’s unanswered questions and her grief keeps her going, until Hart finds her mother’s lost ring and becomes a witness to her murder.

Through Hart’s psychic power, Diana gains hope for justice. Their investigation leads them into the corrupt world threatening Fairy Falls. To secure the town’s future, Hart and Diana must join forces to uncover the shocking truth, or they risk losing the true essence of Fairy Falls forever.

AMAZON BUY LINK

 

Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/YA time travel series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and the teen psychic mystery series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, researching, or revising, she enjoys reading, exercising, anything arcane, and an occasional dram of scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her hubby, one spoiled yellow Labrador and a moody calico cat.

Learn more about Sharon Ledwith on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter,Goodreads, and Smashwords. Look up her Amazon Author page for a list of current books. Be sure to check out THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS TIME TRAVEL SERIES Facebook page.

Wednesday Writers–Lord Ethan’s Courage by Caroline Warfield

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book excerpt from Lord Ethan's Courage, Caroline Warfield, Fire and Frost collection, historical regency romance, Lord Ethan's Courage, Wednesday Writers

Today’s Wednesday Writer’s guest is Caroline Warfield, author of Historical Romance/Regency. She’ll be sharing an excerpt from her book Lord Ethan’s Courage, one of several novellas in the Fire and Frost collection. She’s also going to talk about what goes into making such a collection. Welcome, Caroline!

 

 

 

 

MANAGING A GROUP PROJECT

by Caroline Warfield

 

When a group of friends gets together and decides to produce a collection of novellas, it is significantly more complex than simply, “Hey folks, let’s make a book!” My friends The Bluestocking Belles have done six and they are never easy.

The first task is to agree on a theme, or an organizing principle, to tie the stories together. I’ve read entirely too many for which the only unifying theme is “Christmas.” We try to connect them a bit more than that, and we’ve gone in a variety of directions. What has consistently worked best is to agree on an event that each of the stories will include. Once it was a country house party at Christmas; once it was a ball on Valentine’s day beneath the crystal chandeliers of the Assembly Rooms in Bath. This year we focused on the 1814 frost fair on the frozen Thames, and decided that our characters would conduct a charity auction on behalf of veterans of the Napoleonic wars and their families. It turned out to be both fun and enlightening.

Frost Fair on the Frozen Thames

By choosing a unifying event, we can write separately. We post the potential shared scenes to a private space on Facebook so we can make sure our details line up, our characters behave, and we describe the event the same. If we have five couples all at the same ball or charity auction, we need to tell the same story from 5-10 points of view. It is much less difficult and more fun than you might think. We can rely on each other for shared characters as in, “Does someone have an uppity aunt who might insult my heroine?” or “Do you have a gentleman who can ask my heroine to dance?”

This year we put the actual auction in shared space. Jude Knight contributed some beloved elders to actually conduct the auction. Several of us posted our scenes of the bidding. Snatches of dialog, bidders, winners, and losers were shared back and forth so that when our individual stories were complete, that scene meshed in all five. To a lesser degree a skating scene and a theatre scene appear in some but not all of the stories. After all, all our characters are in London at the same time. Some of us have characters that have appeared in previous collections as well.

Once the stories are written, we do two rounds of beta reading in which we all read all of them. That has the usual benefit if sorting out plot holes and typos, but also smoothing out the share details. Once that is finished, production starts and that is a bit less fun. We agree on specs and all produce a formatted final document. One person assembles the master manuscript. Other jobs are divided up: proof reading, editing and formatting. Agreeing on a title is hard; hopefully we’ve managed that early in the writing process. We hire a cover artist unless one of us is particularly inspired (as occurred this year). Someone makes promotional memes and we all use the same template.

Someone sorts out an event for the launch. This year we had a blog hop called (not surprisingly) the 1814 Frost Faire on the Thames. We each created a story about one fair booth, a bit of flash fiction involving our characters, and added a bit of historical trivia. There were, of course, prizes. Folks seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.

What happens after launch? We start planning the next one. We’re already doing that; see you next year.

 

 

About Fire & Frost

In a winter so cold the Thames freezes over, five couples venture onto the ice in pursuit of love to warm their hearts.

Love unexpected, rekindled, or brand new—even one that’s a whack on the side of the head—heats up the frigid winter. After weeks of fog and cold, all five stories converge on the ice at the 1814 Frost Fair when the ladies’ campaign to help the wounded and unemployed veterans of the Napoleonic wars culminates in a charity auction that shocks the high sticklers of the ton.

In their 2020 collection, join the Bluestocking Belles and their heroes and heroines as The Ladies’ Society For The Care of the Widows and Orphans of Fallen Heroes and the Children of Wounded Veterans pursues justice, charity, and soul-searing romance.

 

EXCERPT

from Lord Ethan’s Courage

Caroline Warfield’s novella

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ethan shivered behind the mews to the rear of Chadbourn House, able neither to return to his hiding place nor to approach the earl. He held the stump of his damaged arm against his chest with the other, trying to keep the chill at bay. It had snowed the night before.

Many months had passed since anything as inconvenient as duty had bothered Ethan, and now that it had, he didn’t care for the feeling at all. Belief someone should tell the earl his sister put herself in jeopardy with her misguided efforts to help injured soldiers drew him there; old fears held him back. He might have hovered next to the mews until he froze to death and they hauled his unloved carcass to a pauper’s grave—or sold it to the body snatchers—if he hadn’t been spotted.

“You there, looking for a meal? Speak up; I almost missed you in the fog.”

Ethan gaped at the groom who came toward him wiping his hands. He didn’t know if the man meant to accuse him of stealing or offer him bread.

“Y’ve come to the right place; follow me.” The man didn’t wait; he started toward the house. “What regiment?”

Ethan, thoroughly confused, followed him. “Regiment?”

“Aye, where’d you serve, man?”

How can he tell I’m a soldier?

“Veteran, aren’t ye? Why else would you hang outside the earl’s kitchen?” The groom held a door open for him.

Ethan stepped up, and mumbled under his breath, “Light Division,” as he passed.

“Craufurd’s? God love y’!”

Warmth wrapped itself around Ethan as they entered the kitchen. “’Nother ’un Mrs. Potter,” the groom called. “Served in th’ Light Division. Not many o’ them left,” he added mournfully, on his way back out the door.

A plump woman gave Ethan a swift no-nonsense examination before he could speak, and scowled at his appearance before waving a dripping spoon toward a table in the corner. The savory stew she set on the table so overwhelmed him that he almost forgot who he was, much less why he came.

Ethan attacked the stew, shoveling it in as rapidly as he could swallow. “Easy now,” the woman chided. “No point in making yourself sick.” She set a plate of warm bread down next to him. “Craufurd’s was it? My man died at Cuidad Rodrigo.”

Ethan kept eating, more slowly now, his stomach clenching. He hadn’t come to share war stories. Cuidad Rodrigo. The words almost drove him back out the door. “I’ve come to see the earl,” he said between bites of bread.

“He isn’t here,” she said. “If it’s work you want—”

“It’s not,” he muttered. He knew the ways of the upper ten thousand. No earl was ‘in’ until he knew who asked and what they wanted. “I won’t keep him long. I’ll just say my piece and be gone.” He considered in bitter humor that he ought to have brought his calling card.

The one-eared footman he saw in the alley came in carrying buckets of water. “Another hungry veteran, Mrs. Potter?” he asked. “What’s his regiment?”

“As you see,” the cook responded. “Served with—”

Ethan had enough bad memories. He rose to his feet. “Tell the earl I have a message, and I’ll—”

“He isn’t here,” Mrs. Potter repeated.

“You can see his man of business if you want work, though,” the footman added.

Ethan did not want work, and he most certainly did not want to revisit bad memories with the oddest collection of servants he’d ever encountered.

“What I have to say is for his ears only. I know the earl isn’t ‘in’. I’ll only take a moment to give him my message and be on my way.”

Both servants stared at him as if he were simpleminded.

“It isn’t how it’s done,” the footman muttered.

Years past caring how things ought to be done, Ethan lost all patience. He stalked out the door to the family quarters, with the footman scurrying behind.

“You can’t go there!” the boy shouted. A stern looking butler started down from the front of the house, and Ethan turned down a hallway, surprised at his spurt of energy. A study was bound to be off the back corridors, and if he made enough of a scene the earl would show himself. He yanked open a door and stopped dead in his tracks.

“You!” the speaker and sole occupant of the room stared at him in astonishment. He had wandered into the library, and stumbled onto Lady Flora.

Want to read more? You can find Caroline’s book at this Buy Link

 

About the Author:

Traveler, would-be adventurer, librarian, technology manager, Caroline Warfield has many things, but she is above all a romantic. Someone who begins life as an army brat develops a wide view of life. She reckons she is on at least her third act. When she isn’t off seeking adventures with her Beloved or her grandson down the block, she works happily in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to even more adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS  Website   Facebook   BookBub

 

New Release–A Chance of Rayne by Suzanne G. Rogers

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A Chance of Rayne, historical romance, new release, Suzanne G. Rogers, Sweet romance, Victorian Romance

One of my favorite sweet historical romance  authors, Suzanne G. Rogers, has a new release!  A Chance of Rayne, Book Four of The Mannequin Series is sure to become a favorite with all Victorian Historical Romance readers.

Here’s a peek at the blurb and beautiful cover.

Although the Harrison daughters look almost like twins, one was born on the right side of the blanket while the other was not. Rayne is tasked with drawing in a suitable husband for her sister, Garnet, but soon discovers her quarry is a kindred spirit from her past. When Rayne refuses to deceive Lord Finch any longer, her father makes good his threat to exile her overseas, to New York City. Although Rayne is determined to survive, she is quickly ensnared in a web of vice. Without friends or resources, she is slated to be auctioned to the highest bidder at one of the most elite brothels in Manhattan. Can Lord Finch rescue his beloved before it’s too late?

Amazon Buy Link

 

Suzanne G. Rogers lives with her husband and son in romantic Savannah, Georgia, on an island populated by deer, exotic birds, and the occasional gator. She’s owned by two Sphynx cats, Houdini and Nikita. Movies, books, and writing are her passions.

Learn more about Suzanne G. Rogers on her historical romance blog and her fantasy blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Also, be sure to check out her website for the Sweet Romance written by Suzanne G. Rogers.

A Writer’s Garden—An Unusual Garden Quiz by Catherine Castle

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A Writer's Garden, Catherine Castle, Flower Quiz, humor, inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc

Welcome to A Writer’s Garden where writers who are gardeners or just love gardens will be sharing their garden and flower stories, as well as a bit about their writing.

Today’s guest is me, Catherine Castle! And I’ll be sharing a garden quiz.

 

An Unusual Garden Quiz

I’ve been on a binge to clean out my office files. Unfortunately, or fortunately for this blog, I can’t throw anything out until I’ve read it. I found this gem in one of the long-forgotten garden files I came across. I thought it would be fun to share. I have no idea where I got it because it was written in longhand on a yellowed piece of tablet paper in a hand writing that sort of resembles mine, but isn’t. I put the answers way, way at the bottom of the post so you won’t be tempted to cheat.

I was able to come up with three answers, and two of those were not the ones listed on the quiz paper. Number one and eleven have two possible answers. And I hadn’t heard of the flower reference in number fifteen, so I looked it up on the internet when I finally gave up guessing. I learned a new gardening tidbit today. Yeah!

Take the quiz and see how well you can figure out the answers. I’ll give you a hint: None of them are depicted in the cartoon flower at the top of the blog.

 

Garden Flower Quiz

1. Plant a kitten and what will come up?
2. What flower is a very precise lady?
3. Plant a bag of flour and what will come up?
4. What is lost by men when they marry?
5. Plant a sunrise and what will come up?
6. Plant one of Cupid’s arrows and what will come up?
7. What flowers are fragrant letters?
8. Plant a kiss and what will come up?
9. Plant a preacher and what will come up?
10. What flower tells the time of day?
11. Plant grief and what will come up?
12. What flower is a well-dressed, ferocious animal?
13. Plant a tin horn and what will come up?
14. Plant a gilded cane and what will come up?
15. What flower is a tattered bird?

So, how many did you figure out without looking? I’d love to know what your answers were. Leave me a note in the comments, please.

 

About the Author:

Multi-award winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter @AuthorCCastle, FB or her blog

Catherine, and her book heroines love flowers. In Catherine’s inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, the heroine, Sister Margaret Mary, has the job of gardener in the convent. Check out the blurb below, or go to Amazon and pick up a copy of this multi-award-winning book.

 

The Nun and the Narc

By Catherine Castle

Where novice Sister Margaret Mary goes, trouble follows. When she barges into a drug deal the local Mexican drug lord captures her. To escape she must depend on undercover DEA agent Jed Bond. Jed’s attitude toward her is exasperating, but when she finds herself inexplicable attracted to him he becomes more dangerous than the men who have captured them, because he is making her doubt her decision to take her final vows. Escape back to the nunnery is imperative, but life at the convent, if she can still take her final vows, will never be the same.

Nuns shouldn’t look, talk, act, or kiss like Sister Margaret Mary O’Connor—at least that’s what Jed Bond thinks. She hampers his escape plans with her compulsiveness and compassion and in the process makes Jed question his own beliefs. After years of walling up his emotions in an attempt to become the best agent possible, Sister Margaret is crumbling Jed’s defenses and opening his heart. To lure her away from the church would be unforgivable—to lose her unbearable.

 

Quiz Answers:

1. Pussywillow/cat tails
2. Primrose
3. Dusty miller
4. Bachelor buttons
5. Sunflower
6. Bleeding heart
7. Sweet peas
8. Tulips
9. Jack-in-the-pulpit
10. Four-o’clocks
11. Weeping willow/morning glory
12. Dandelion
13. Trumpet flowers
14. Golden rod
15. Ragged robin
16. For those curious souls, the cartoon plant depicts: Blue bells, bat plant, hen and chicks, lady slippers, snake plant, spider wort and snapdragons.

Wednesday Writers—Trapped by Lillian Duncan

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Catherine Castle Wednesday Writers series, Christian Romantic Suspense, giveaway, Lillian Duncan, Trapped

 

 

Wednesday Writers welcomes Lillian Duncan back to the blog with a post about her latest romantic suspense novel, Trapped,  and a giveaway. Welcome, Lillian!

 

BABY STEPS

 

TRAPPED is my latest romantic suspense novel—heavy on the suspense but enough romance to add to the enjoyment. Being a Christian Fiction novel, there’s always a spiritual message hidden in the pages of the story as well, and this one is no exception.

Angela Matthews had the perfect life until the day she’s kidnapped and trapped in a basement with a mad man. Even though she’s rescued, she remains trapped by the memories she can’t forget.

That’s true for so many of us. Even after the “bad situation” whatever that may be is resolved, we get stuck and can’t seem to move forward with our lives. Instead, we’re angry and bitter or maybe sad and fearful or most likely a combination of all of those negative emotions.

In the story, her rescuer discovers that Angela is indeed still trapped by her horrible experience. He’s had his own share of horrible as a Chicago policeman. Because of that, he reaches out to help Angela.

One of the mantras in the story is “baby steps.” So often we think we have to go from a sitting position to a full-out run or we are a failure. This story reminds us that’s not reality. Each baby step we take toward our goal is a win. Every win brings us closer to our ultimate victory!

But TRAPPED isn’t a self-help book, it’s a suspense novel. That means there’s lots of action, not to mention twists and turns that will keep you guessing who the bad guy is until the very end!

 

Giveaway:

Two is always better than one, especially when it comes to giveaways. So, to celebrate the release of TRAPPED, I’m having two different giveaways! One lucky winner will receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card as well as a choice of one of my books (e-book only). Click Here to enter. Five more lucky winners on my website will win a $5 Amazon Gift Card. To enter, go to http://www.lillian-duncan.com/ and leave a comment under the TRAPPED Giveaway Post.

 

Trapped

By Lillian Duncan

Angelina Matthews has everything—riches, fame, and beauty—until the day she’s kidnapped and trapped in a basement with a madman, wearing only a stained t-shirt. The dirt is his—the blood is hers. Tormented and tortured, she cries out to God.

Help comes in the form of Nate Goodman.

When their paths cross months later, Nate discovers Angelina is still trapped—not in a basement but in the memories she can’t escape. Nate knows all about being trapped, and getting un-trapped. As an ex-Chicago cop he’s had his own demons to wrestle, but his faith helped him to move forward. He reaches out to Angelina whose paranoid delusions have her trapped still.

But are they delusions after all?

 

About the Author:

Lillian Duncan… turning faith into fiction.

Lillian is a multi-published author who lives in the middle of Ohio Amish country with her husband. After more than 30 years working as a speech pathologist, she believes in the power of words to transform lives—especially God’s Word.

She loves to write stories that entertain but also demonstrate God’s love for all of us. To learn more about her, visit http://www.lillian-duncan.com/ as well as her devotional blog at http://www.powerupwithgod.com/.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday Writers–Christmas Hope by Caroline Warfield

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Caroline Warfield, Catherine Castle Wednesday Writers series, Christmas Hope, Christmas romance, historical romance, WWI romance

Today’s Wednesday Writers guest is award-winning historical author Caroline Warfield. She’s talking about her Historical Romance: 20^th Century-World War I book Christmas Hope. There’s an excerpt and a chance to pre order the book at a discount. Welcome, Caroline!

 

Thanks, Catherine.

 

Stories just come to us sometimes. This one surprised me. It grew in part from a visit to Amiens ten years ago.

 

I was, as always, looking deep into history, viewing the town my ancestors left in the 17th century, and admiring the great medieval cathedral. The tributes to the soldiers of 20^th century wars on the walls of that cathedral took me off guard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seeds planted by those tributes surfaced in the form of a novella four years ago, the story of a soldier mired in the trenches along the Somme who finds hope among the floating islands (les hortillonnages) of Amiens. Those islands, laced with rivulets and canals, have been used for centuries as gardens, supplying vegetables to Amiens, just as the heroine of my book does. A boat tour though them helped inspire that bit.

The original novella ended with Harry and Rosemarie Happy-For-Now, but readers wanted more and so did I. What would the rest of the war do to them? How would he survive, heart and soul, the horrors of that awful war?

I was deep into the writing when I realized that a great deal of what I described came to me from my father. He haunts the book. Dad was born the year the book ends, but he fought in two great wars later in the century. Many of his sayings and ideas crept into the story. He was called Sarge to the end of his life; the book is dedicated to him.

The 19^th century is my usual playground. My previous stories take place between 1812 and 1840. This is different. It took me by surprise, but in some ways it may be my favorite. It is a story in four parts; each part ends on Christmas 1916, 17, 18, and 19.

Christmas Hope

by Caroline Warfield

After two years at the mercy of the Canadian Expeditionary force and the German war machine, Harry ran out of metaphors for death, synonyms for brown, and images of darkness. When he encounters color among the floating islands of Amiens and life in the form a widow and her little son, hope ensnares him. Through three more long years of war and its aftermath, the hope she brings keeps Harry alive.

Rosemarie Legrand’s husband left her a tiny son, no money, and a savaged reputation when he died. She struggles to simply feed the boy and has little to offer a lonely soldier, but Harry’s devotion lifts her up. The war demands all her strength and resilience, but the hope of peace and the promise of Harry’s love keep her going.

When the Great War is over, will their love be enough?

 

Excerpt:

“Clergy can be narrow minded,” she said. More than this man can possibly know. With the exception of Abbé Desjardin, the clergy of Amiens had been quick to judge her, quick to believe Raoul’s accusations. Hypocritical fools!

“Your priest seemed more humane,” he said as if he read her mind.

“He has known me since I was a child. He is wise and kind. Not all of them are.”

“He said…” the corporal broke off, coloring brightly.

Rosemarie stood abruptly and busied herself making tea. She didn’t think she wanted to know what the abbé told this man, but she may as well get it out. At least he wasn’t talking to Sabine.

“What exactly did Abbé Desjardin tell you?” she asked over her shoulder, the words sour in her mouth.

“That you’ve been unfairly judged. That you chose charity over self-regard and have paid for it dearly.”

Her shoulders relaxed, the sensation of comfort rolling up her neck and down her back. “He’s a good man,” she murmured.

“How did you find the German?” he asked.

His interest sounded genuine, but she breathed deeply before answering. “I was fishing in the Somme. Early mornings are best, and I was alone with Marcel. When I started for home, I found him caught in the weeds, just where I found your Bible. Things catch there often. This time, it was a human being. I pulled him out.”

“Why didn’t you take him into Amiens?”

“I struggled to manage a wounded man and Marcel both, and I needed to dock quickly. Home was closer. I would have stopped at another cabin, but none looked occupied, and most of them would have let the boy die.” She sank back into her chair. “He died anyway. My so-called generosity was for nothing and brought me the undying contempt of my neighbors.”

“So the abbé said. He also said you are hurting yourself by hiding away.”

“He wants me at Sunday Mass. Typical priest.”

“He thinks the ladies of Amiens need to witness what a good mother you are. For your protection.”

She snorted, an unladylike sound she didn’t regret. “Those hags believe Sabine. Why should I have to put on a show for them?”

The corporal watched her intently, his blue eyes lit with curiosity, until she began to squirm in her seat. She wondered if he found her attractive. Raoul’s eyes had taken on a predatory gleam whenever desire drove him. This man’s eyes had a different sort of warmth.

“The abbé also thinks you would do well to visit the Christmas market with Marcel.”

She shook her head to deny it. “I won’t put Marcel in that position.”

“He thinks it would be better if you were on the arm of—his words—a ‘brave allied soldier.’” He grinned ruefully.

Rosemarie choked on her tea so badly the corporal jumped to his feet to pat her back until she regained control.

“The old reprobate!” she growled when she could.

Preorder for discount pricing. You can find links to various retailers here:

https://www.carolinewarfield.com/bookshelf/christmas-hope/

WARNING TO READERS OF SWEET/CLEAN ROMANCE:

This book is mildly sensual, but no open door sex and may contain some swear words.

About the Author:

Award-winning author Caroline Warfield has been many things: traveler, librarian, poet, raiser of children, bird watcher, Internet and Web services manager, conference speaker, indexer, tech writer, genealogist—even a nun. She reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS Facebook   BookBub    GoodReads

Wednesday Writers–Interview with Denise Weimer

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Author interview with Denise Weimer, historical romance, The Witness Tree book excerpt, Wdnesday Writers

Welcome to Wednesday Writers!

Today’s Wednesday Writer’s guest is Denise Weimer. She’ll be answering a few interview questions and providing us with an excerpt of her book The Witness Tree. Welcome, Denise!

 Please tell the readers about the release that is being showcased today.

The Witness Tree released just this past Monday with Smitten Historical Romance. It’s about a dangerous assignment in 1805 Cherokee Territory that calls for a Moravian marriage of convenience.

How did you come up with the concept for this book?

Before I came to work for Smitten Historical Romance as a managing editor, I wanted to write a book for them. I’d been watching the growth of the imprint, and their quality and values impressed me.

So far, all of my published novels have been set in my home state of Georgia. I love exploring its hidden history and lore. I needed a new location and focus for my Smitten novel. A bit of internet research turned up the intriguing fact that the Moravians came down from Salem, North Carolina (a town much like Williamsburg), to build a mission school on the plantation of Cherokee Chief James Vann, a historic site I’d visited as a child. I already found the Moravians, as a little-known sect of the plain people, fascinating. There was also the little-known fact that up until the early 1800s, many Cherokees were violently opposed to their language being recorded.

Wala, I had a story idea! However, I’d assigned myself a huge challenge in combining two very different people groups with diverse customs and languages into a story—and in a time period in which I’d never written.

What are you working on now? Do you have a release date for this book?

Earlier this year, I finished a novel that is slated to be part of The Native Patriots Series, stories about Native Americans who fought for our nation in different wars. To my delight, I could link this novel, working title Bent Tree Bride, to The Witness Tree. Sam Hicks is one of the children at the mission school in The Witness Tree, and he becomes the hero of Bent Tree Bride, a captain in the Cherokee Regiment that helped turn the battle against the Red Stick Creeks in 1814, part of The War of 1812. Sam falls in love with his colonel’s daughter, but they both have a surprise in store. She thinks he is white. He thinks she is Cherokee. They were both wrong.

My agent is currently shopping this series. I have another collection proposal set in Gilded Age Florida with a publisher, but until I hear back on that, I’m deeply invested in marketing The Witness Tree and my contemporary renovation romance, Fall Flip, which also released this month. I have two more contemporaries coming with Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas imprints in March—athletic romance Spring Splash and romantic techno-suspense Traces.

I tend to write in stages: dialogue first, then go back and put in the different layers—sensory, visceral, emotional, settings. What is does your writing process look like?

 As a former living historian and a visual learner, I always start with research. Computer research serves as my springboard, but then I order books from Amazon and my library to make sure I’m using accurate information. I begin to compile a historical timeline that includes everything from military history or local events to weather and fashion. Among that, I weave my fictional story. Often, the real historical events serve as plot shapers. I also always use maps, whether a simple city map for a contemporary novel, or period maps that show forts, rivers, and towns for a historical.

Then I schedule trips to historical sites, living histories, and the locations where my stories are set. I comb through museums and microfilm of old newspapers. I make notes about the flora and fauna, the sights and smells of the setting.

Once I start writing, I write entire scenes with all the details included, in order. My editing training has taught me to semi-self-edit as I go. At the end of each chapter, I stop and go back for a general edit. When the story is finished, I go over it again, then read it aloud to my husband to help catch errors. After that, it’s on to beta readers and then my agent.

What’s the first book, in the genre you write in, that you remember reading?

I’m not sure which came first, Gone With the Wind or the Eugenia Price novels. Note: learning to write in active voice, deep point of view was quite a challenge when you were raised on very verbose, Southern literary fiction. My Georgia Gold Series (my first published novels) is more Eugenia Price-style.

Do you have an all-time favorite movie that has stuck in your mind or that you’d watch over and over?

Last of the Mohicans

 We like to travel. What is the most historic place you’ve visited?

Rome, Italy

Name three interesting things most people don’t know about you.

How about one? I mentioned it above, but I spent many years involved in living history events. My husband and I directed a mid-1800s dance group that performed locally. The takeaway from that is, I can accurately describe for my novels not only ballroom dancing but what it feels like when your corset pinches you while you are waltzing. LOL

It’s been a pleasure having you here today. As you say goodbye, can you leave the readers with an encapsulation of your life’s philosophy? (a quote, a Bible verse, a precept you live by or have tried to instill in your children?)

Scripture teaches us that we each have value and purpose as God’s child (Ephesians 2:10, Jeremiah 29:11). God’s plan for our lives is the best one available and uses our gifts and talents for His glory and His kingdom. Why wouldn’t we want to seek that with all our hearts? You will know by the peace given by the Holy Spirit when you’re walking in that will.

And now for a peek at Denise’s book The Witness Tree available at Amazon

Past betrayal has turned John Kliest’s passion to his work as a builder and surveyor in the Moravian town of Salem, North Carolina. Now, to satisfy the elders’ edict and fulfill his mission in Cherokee Territory, he needs a bride. But the one woman qualified to record the Cherokee language longs for a future with his younger brother.

Clarissa Vogler’s dream of a life with Daniel Kliest is shattered when she is chosen by lot to marry his older brother and venture into the uncharted frontier. Can she learn to love this stoic man who is now her husband? Her survival hinges on being able to trust him—but they both harbor secrets.

 

Excerpt from The Witness Tree

At the top of the hill, a line of evergreens separated travelers from God’s Acre, where the departed Moravian faithful of Salem lay under flat stone slabs. Above the cemetery, Church Street intersected the east-west road that ran north of town. The witness tree stood at the juncture of this road and another lane that looped south. Some forty years earlier, Frederick Kliest’s axe had marked it as such with three slashes on its trunk. That and the knot on the back had made it a perfect place for Daniel to leave Clarissa messages.

Even more shocking than John’s proposal had been the news that followed it. Susanna had also revealed that Daniel had left town. The burning ache in Clarissa’s chest told her Susanna must have been mistaken. She hurried forward, sped by the sure knowledge that Daniel would not have abandoned her. Not now. At least not permanently. Not without communicating his plan.

As the tree came into view, so did a figure. Clarissa froze, palm returning to her chest. Daniel?

No. The man walking toward her was taller, more solid, his closely-trimmed, dark beard speckled with gray that somehow did not make him look older. John Kliest. He might be a good ten years ahead of Daniel, having passed thirty, she guessed, but his unlined face and intense blue eyes indicated an untamed energy that Daniel, even while painting, had not possessed.

He recognized her a second later, for he, too, stopped and stared. “Sister Vogler.”

His first words spoken to her. He bowed. None of the heat that seemed to be affecting Clarissa colored his face.

“Br-brother Kliest.” Now she was stammering too?

Laugh lines danced around his mouth. He took a step toward her, watching her as one watches a doe in the woods. In fact, he clutched the tiger-striped maple stock of the Rowan long rifle he’d commissioned her father to make some years ago. He was probably the only man in their pacifist community to own such a gun—presumably as protection from wild animals when he was off surveying. But he did not carry his surveying instruments today. Had he been hunting, perchance?

“Headed to your father’s?”

“Yes.”

John’s gaze darted to a spiral of the blonde hair she found so hard to keep under her cap. “Might I accompany you? This isn’t the best path for sisters to travel alone, being outside of town.” His narrowing eyes questioned why she did not take the usual route between the Single Sisters’ House and the gunsmith’s.

“My parents might be more alarmed if I arrived in your company.”

“I don’t think so, Miss Vogler.”

The way his tone dropped sent tingles to her toes. And he called her “miss,” not the more proper “sister.”

He studied her reaction as if gauging whether she’d yet been told of his proposal. A dozen unasked questions jockeyed in her throat. Why did you ask to marry me? Was it only because twenty years ago, Father visited the Cherokees himself and convinced the congregation to set up a mission? So now you have some thum—stupid—idea that I should go as well? What about Daniel? Where is he, and did you know of his intentions toward me? Did you push him out of your way?

But these were not things a Moravian lady asked a bachelor, marriage proposal or no. These were things Clarissa must learn from others. She would give nothing away until she knew more. And she couldn’t check that tree until John was gone.

She clasped her hands together. “Such things are not done, Brother Kliest. But I thank you and bid you a good day.”

That smile danced around his lips again. He tipped his hat. “Until next time, Sister Vogler.”

Next time?

Biting her lip, Clarissa hurried past him, indignation sweeping her.

He was confident he would be accepted. Because he’d achieved status in the community? Because the nobility of his calling to be among the Pilger- und Streitersache—the church’s pilgrims and militants for Christ—would trump anything his younger brother offered?

As soon as John disappeared from sight, Clarissa crumpled on a fallen log. She loosened the strings of her bonnet in an attempt to calm her panicked breathing. She looked back at the witness tree. She already knew the knot would be empty.

The elders had agreed with John’s plans, and the lot had been consulted. It must have said yes, or the proposal would not have been made. And a proper lady never refused a positive answer from the lot, because even though she could do so, the lot represented the will of God.

 

About the Author:

Denise Weimer writes historical and contemporary romance and romantic suspense set in her home state of Georgia. She’s authored over nine novels (including her contemporary story, Fall Flip, new with Candlelight Romance in September 2019!) and a number of novellas. As a managing editor at Smitten Romance, Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, she also helps others reach their publishing dreams. A wife and mother of two daughters, Denise always pauses for coffee, chocolate, and old houses.  Connect with Denise her  Website   Facebook    Twitter