Wenesday Writers–Darlene Franklin and The Mermaid’s Song

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Acadians, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Darlene Franklin, historical romance, Le Grand Derangement, Mermaid's Song, Sweet romance

Today I’m welcoming Darlene Franklin back to Wednesday Writers. Darlene has been a frequent guest author on the series, and today she’s going to give us some historical background on the Acadians and the part they play in her book Mermaid’s Song. Welcome back, Darlene.

 

Thanks, Catherine.

Acadians were French settlers in the area now known as Nova Scotia, New Brunswick , Prince Edward Island in the 17^th century

Acadians settled on the coast four years before French settlers went to Quebec on the St. Lawrence River. Acadians and French had different cultures.

Acadians became French subjects according to the treaty of Utrecht in 1713.

When the French and Indian War began in 1754, British doubted the neutrality of the Acadians and kicked them out, A few remained in Maine (Eddie Bourgoin in Acadian Hearts is one of these Acadians) but the most ended up in Louisiana, the Cajuns.

The deportation was called Le Grand Derangement or The Expulsion of 1755.

During the French and Indian War, in 1754, the British built a palisaded star fort to prevent the Canadians and the Indians from using the Kennebec River to attack English settlements.

That’s the historical background of Mermaid’s Song.

Justine is an Acadian being deported to an unknown destination in the colonies when her boat is shipwrecked near Ft. Hallifax. She alone survives. She is taken in by a merchant’s family, but others suspect her of being a foreign spy.

 

Mermaid’s Song

by Darlene  Franklin

Noble Prescott is drawn to the scene of a shipwreck by a sweet song sung in a language he didn’t understand. The songstress is barely alive, holding onto a piece of the ship’s railing. Her dress wraps around her legs like a mermaid’s tail.

Thus begins this imaginative retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s classic fairy tale.

Justine Battineaux, an Acadian forced from her homeland on Cape Breton Island by British decree, finds herself adrift in the Maine colony. She doesn’t know the language and is distrusted as a foreigner.

Noble lives up to his name, providing shelter for Justine—and protection, as distrust turns into danger. For himself, his family—and the woman he comes to love.

How will Justine and Noble overcome the evil woman’s schemes to find their own love everlasting?

Want to read more? Check out the book on Amazon.

About the Author:

Best-selling hybrid author Darlene Franklin’s greatest claim to fame is that she writes full-time from a nursing home. Mermaid Song is her fiftieth unique title! She’s also contributed to more than twenty nonfiction titles. Her column, “The View Through my Door,” appears in five monthly venues. Other recent titles are Wilderness Weddings and Opposites Attract. You can find her online at: Website and blog, Facebook, Amazon author page

 

Links: Website and blog

Facebook

Amazon author page

Twitter: @darlenefranklin

 

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Wednesday Writers–Married by Mistake by Laura V. Hilton

Tags

book excerpt from Married by Mistake, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, historical romance, Laura V. Hilton, Mackinac Island, MArried by Mistake, Second Chance Brides Romance Collection, Sweet romance, Upper penninsula Michigan

 

Laura V. Hilton is back on Wednesday Writers today, talking about the Story Behind the Story of Married by Mistake. Welcome, Laura. I can’t wait to hear about Married by Mistake. BTW, I love that title and Mackinac Island. I’ve always wanted to write a story set there.   

Thanks, Catherine.

When my agent asked me if I’d be willing to write a historical novella for a collection she was putting together for another author, I jumped at the chance. I usually write Amish romance (which I love) but I wanted to try my hand at historical. And a novel set in my home state of Michigan would be a dream come true. I had several ideas and I pitched them all to my street team to see which they liked best and the majority chose this idea.

upper peninsula Michigan

Then I went to my brainstorming group to help me figure out the hero’s story. And one lady in there, mentioned the Krump family in German and a war they provided weapons to the Boers in South Africa. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krupp – also http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/boer-war-begins-in-south-africa. The Upper peninsula in Michigan produced iron ore ( http://www.miningartifacts.org/Michigan-Iron-Mines.html) and what if….

The story was born from there.

Mackinac Island was a popular vacation destination in the Victorian era where the wealthy city residents went to escape the heat of the city. A perfect setting for a wounded hero to escape from gossip – at least until the socialites arrived – and then have to face his demons and come to terms with his past.

While writing this story, I also was homeschooling my two youngest children and my youngest daughter (a reluctant reader) was reading Alice in Wonderland out loud. Since that was a new book on the market at the time my story was set, it seemed fun to include bits and pieces of that story in mind, wrapped with the history of the island and the mess our hero and heroine would soon find themselves a part of.

I hope you enjoy reading Second Chance Brides Romance Collection – as well as my novella, Married by Mistake.

Here’s an excerpt:

Married by Mistake

by Laura V. Hilton

Chapter 1

Mackinac Island, 1902

A kiss.

The sea spray touched Bessie O’Hara’s face as gently as she imagined he—whoever he might be—would some day brush his lips across her cheeks.

She couldn’t wait.

If only she could skip all the tiresome courtship rituals like monotonous parlor visits and chaperoned strolls. She’d also eliminate the formal calling cards and fluttering fans society demanded and go straight to the happily-ever-after.

It wasn’t that easy. She glanced at her two cousins, giggling behind their fans, as they stepped off the ferry onto the dock leading to the island. They looked toward some gentlemen who’d come to meet the boat. Judging by their clothing, they were there for the summer season as well. They certainly weren’t employees hired to drive the buggies and wagons.

Bessie smoothed her hand over her dress. Splotches of water dampened the material under her touch. With a sigh, she looked around for her family’s carriage. Papa had wired ahead and told the driver when to meet the ferry. She didn’t see the carriage, but a large crowd blocked her view.

She didn’t want to do this. Not that she minded visiting her family’s vacation home on the island, or escaping the stifling August heat of Grand Rapids, or even spending time with her cousins. But this was so much more than a summer reprieve. Henrietta and Rosella were husband-hunting and dragging her along, completely against her will.

And worse? Her parents completely agreed with her cousins. It was time she got married. That was a woman’s highest calling—to manage a husband and a household.

Or so she’d been told.

She’d been looked over so many times before she was afraid of facing another rejection. Was she somehow defective because her hair wasn’t pale blond like Rosella’s or a deep, dark red like Henrietta’s? She dreaded being put on endless display in the “meat market” and found lacking over and over during the tiresome rituals.

If only she could have said husband handed to her, dropped in her lap, maybe even delivered, gift-wrapped with a ribbon and a card reading, “Here he is. Treat him well.” Instead she’d been forced to endure countless teas in stifling parlors from her usual place on the fringes.

Bessie stepped up her pace to catch up with her cousins who already neared the end of the dock. She didn’t want to be left behind. A gentleman wearing a plaid cap stood in her way, talking to someone, and she stepped to the side to keep from hitting him, but he turned sharply and bumped her in the side with his elbow. Her foot landed on the edge of the dock. She groped for something to grab onto but came up with nothing but air. She gulped a breath that emerged as a high-pitched squeal, and tumbled toward the water.

A strong hand grabbed her by the back of her dress, jerking the fabric up tight, and she flailed. Was this how a fish on a hook felt? She eyed the cold, fishy water she’d almost fell into. Seconds later, another hand closed around her elbow, the grip tightening as the hand on her dress released the material, slid around her waist and hauled her back against a firm chest.

Shocks raced through her body like the rise and fall of waves crashing against the shore during a storm. His arm firm against her, the man loosened his grip on her elbow. Then the arm wrapped around her waist slid away.

Slid—the fingers took a leisurely tour of the silky fabric covering her abdomen. There had to be something improper about this, but the touch set her senses on fire, charring her thoughts almost before they formed. She tried to take a deep breath and lightheadedness made her dizzy, overwhelmed with how quickly her situation had changed from impending bath to rescue.

“Watch where you’re going.” The voice was brusque, hardly matching the rest of the sensations. And with those harsh words, he released her. Her feet set firmly on the wood planks, free from his disturbing touch.

Bessie jerked her shoulders in an angry twitch as she turned carefully around and moved away from the edge of the dock. She didn’t want a repeat performance. “Watch where I’m going? Let’s try being more careful, Mr….”

Her voice trailed off as she stared into grayish-blue eyes, the color of the water on a winter day. Stubble shadowed the man’s chin, and his equally dark hair, a bit on the long side, peeked out from under a plaid cap.

He adjusted the brim as a muscle jerked in his jaw.

Wait. He was the man who’d stood on the opposite side of the ferry and stared at her during their ride over to the island, his gaze boring into her until she turned.

He’d quickly looked away.

Her fingers had itched to sketch his portrait. Strong. Dark. Handsome. And dangerous. She tried to memorize his features, but he’d glanced back at her and caught her staring.

Then it’d been her turn to look away and try to distract herself by listening to another half hour of her cousins giggling about potential prospects.

“You.” The single word sputtered out without warning. She resisted the urge to clamp her hand over her mouth. Maybe she should apologize for being so rude. But then she’d need an explanation for why she’d said it and she had none. Other than… well, he drew her and made her long to be his helpmeet. Not that she’d ever admit it to anyone.

He bowed at the waist, his lips twisting into something resembling a grimace, and he waved his hand. “Ladies first.”

Want to read more? Check her book out at http://www.amazon.com/Laura-V.-Hilton/e/B004IRSM5Q

 

About the Author:

Laura V. Hilton is an award-winning, sought-after author with almost twenty Amish, contemporary, and historical romances. When she’s not writing, she reviews books for her blogs, and writes devotionals for blog posts for Seriously Write and Putting on the New.

 

Laura and her pastor-husband have five children and a hyper dog named Skye. They currently live in Arkansas. One son is in the U.S. Coast Guard. She is a pastor’s wife, and homeschools her two youngest children.

When she’s not writing, Laura enjoys reading, and visiting lighthouses and waterfalls. Her favorite season is winter, her favorite holiday is Christmas.

Connect with Laura at:

visit my blogs: http://lighthouse-academy.blogspot.com/  & http://lauravhilton.blogspot.com/ 

twitter: @Laura_V_Hilton

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Laura-V-Hilton/161478847242512

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/vernetlh/

 Purchase my books:

 Amazon   http://www.amazon.com/Laura-V.-Hilton/e/B004IRSM5Q 

CBD: http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/easy_find?Ntt=laura+hilton&N=0&Ntk=keywords&action=Search&Ne=0&event=ESRCG&nav_search=1&cms=1

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/laura-hilton?store=allproducts&keyword=laura+hilton

Deeper Shopping http://www.deepershopping.com/index.php?query=laura+hilton&x=0&y=0&module=productsearch&_logmode=Y&querymodule=SPX

 

 

Wednesday Writers–Writing for the King with Donna Schlachter

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book excerpt from Echoes of the Heart, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Christian fiction, Donna Schlachter, Echoes of the Heart, historical romance, Pony Express Romance Collection, Writing for the King

Today Wednesday Writers welcomes Christian author Donna Schlachter. Donna will be sharing an excerpt from her book Echoes of the Heart, which is a part of The Pony Express Romance Collection, as well as telling us about her father’s book, which she helped write, and why she writes for the King. Welcome, Donna.

 

Thanks, Catherine.

I wrote my dad’s memoirs a couple of years ago. Because we don’t live near each other, we spent time together at Christmas or Thanksgiving working on the book. I used a digital recorder and had a list of questions I needed answered. Once I got the story down, I’d send him several chapters at a time for him to review. Then I sent the final book, printed out in a binder, and he called with changes and corrections. Even once we sent it to a printer, we found errors in the galleys which we corrected.

My father held his book in his hand a month before he passed away.

He boasted to several people about his life story. The intake counselor at the hospice he went to was astounded he had a book, saying that many people came to this point in their lives wishing they’d written a book. She said she’d never known anybody who had.

I was so pleased to have been part of that process, to give my dad a book he was proud to hold in his hand. A book he was proud to have his name on.

Which got me to thinking about my other books. Would my Heavenly Father be proud to hold my other books in His hand? Would He be proud to have His Name on those books?

That changed the way I looked at my books. Because I realized they weren’t mine at all. He is the author. I simply transcribe the stories for Him.

And as such, it’s my job to be as accurate as I can. To show up for work every day. To do the best I can to listen and not inject myself into the story.

God’s job is to create the stories. To communicate them to me. To correct me when I get off track.

I like the partnership I have with Him. It takes a lot of pressure off me. When I’m staring at the blank page, I simply pray, “Lord, thank You for letting me be the first person you’ve ever shown this story to. Help me hear You correctly and do the work of transcribing.”

Knowing what I need to do and what I don’t need to do makes the job a lot easier which means I’m having a lot more fun. I’m working on the next book in my dad’s memoirs, and although he’s with Jesus now, I hope he’d be just as proud to hold this book in his hand as he was with the first one.

And I pray God would be proud to have His name on every book I’ve written.

And now for a peek at Donna’s book Echoes of the Heart

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Echoes of the Heart

By Donna Schlachter

 

Catherine Malloy, an orphan girl running from a compromising situation in Boston, answers a personal ad in a magazine, on behalf of her illiterate friend. Through his letters, she finds herself falling in love with this stranger. Benjamin Troudt is crippled and illiterate, and knows nothing of this ad. His route supervisor, Warton, who was helping Benjamin with the paperwork, has been given only a short time to live, and knows Benjamin needs help, so he places the ad. Can Catherine overcome her belief that the God of her parents has abandoned her? And can Benjamin allow God to open his eyes and his heart to love?

 

Excerpt:

Hollenberg Pony Express Station

Kansas Territory

May 1860

 

Chapter 1

 

Catherine Malloy braced a hand against the doorframe as the stage rounded a turn. A cloud of dust encircled the coach, filtering through the gaps in the doors, the curtains, the floor, and the roof, threatening to choke her. She coughed politely behind her gloved hand, cringing at the sight of the stains on her once-white hand coverings. Her spirits were as rumpled as her sleeves and skirt. Would the dirt ever come out?

But no matter how primitive the conditions, no matter how hostile the natives or how cold the winters—all stories she’d heard about the Wild West—she would not turn back.

She had nowhere to turn back.

When she’d excitedly read the advertisement in the magazine to her friend Margaret, neither had truly contemplated just how far the Kansas Territory was from Boston. Four days on the train to St. Joseph, Missouri had been just the beginning. Three days in this bouncing torture chamber, surrounded by surly men, snot-nosed children, and sharp-tongued women caused her to question her sanity and her decision more than once. She’d already eaten more dust than she’d known existed.

In Mr. Troudt’s first letter, he’d explained that he ran a way station and needed a wife. Neither she nor Margaret knew what that was. They knew a man from Australia, who talked about working at a sheep station. Perhaps a way station was similar.

Not that any of that mattered. She had no reason to go back. No family. No job.

Not after the way Master Talbott had approached her.

She shifted her drawstring purse from its place on the floor behind her feet. Its weight clanged against the boards. While not her ill-gotten bag of coins and jewelry, the packet weighed on her heart and her conscience equally.

She glanced at her fellow passengers as they rocked in time with the movement of the stage. A man in a suit who looked like a banker or a lawyer. Next to him, a minister coming west to seek his flock, as he’d told her at least a dozen times in the past four days. Sitting beside her, a woman traveling through to California, who’d said little to anybody, instead keeping her face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Catherine had lost count of the people with whom she’d shared cramped quarters. Most were strange traveling companions, to be certain. Not that she was looking for a bosom friend.

She would stay here. Hollenberg Station, Kansas Territory. Where the Oregon and California Trails brought emigrants past what would become her new home. Very different from her parents’ house where she’d grown up. Not at all like the even grander Georgian house she’d lived in with her aunt and uncle.

Until he’d squandered her inheritance and forced her into servitude in the Talbott mansion.

The only good from that whole debacle was Maggie.

A lump filled her throat, threatening to cut off her breath. Maggie had taught her how to survive when she thought life no longer worth living. Taught her to curtsey, to keep her gaze low, to smile when asked to do the impossible, and to keep quiet when told to do the unreasonable.

She shivered. But she was no automaton. When the master of the house had made his intentions clear, she’d refused his demands.

She knew her days in that household were numbered.

And then she’d seen the advertisement in the penny magazine. She had hoped this was her way out. In her excitement, she’d read the notice to Maggie since her friend could neither read nor write. And Maggie had instantly latched onto the notion that this was God’s answer to her prayers for a way to leave Boston.

Catherine sniffed at the idea. God had no interest in her life. Maybe in Maggie’s, but if that was true, why hadn’t He removed her from her dreary position, the long hours of hard work, the drudgery of servitude?

Despite her doubts about God’s hand in the matter, on Maggie’s behalf, she had penned a response to Mr. Benjamin Troudt, Hollenberg Station, Hanover, Kansas Territory.

A month later, a letter arrived at the mansion addressed to Miss Margaret Thomas.

And the whirlwind long-distance courtship commenced, punctuated by month-long pauses where they wondered if he would respond. And when he did, such giddy excitement.

Mr. Troudt described a beautiful place, using language as pretty as poetry. Despite the fact he wrote to Maggie, Catherine imagined herself cooking in the kitchen, making delicious meals for her husband and his ranch hands. She saw herself weeding their garden, feeding their hens, riding beside her husband into town to purchase supplies.

It was a nice dream.

Except it belonged to Maggie.

Want to read more? You can find Echoes of the Heart at: http://amzn.to/2lBaqcW

 

 

About the Author:

Donna lives in Denver with husband Patrick, her first-line editor and biggest fan. She writes historical suspense under her own name, and contemporary suspense under her alter ego of Leeann Betts. She is a hybrid publisher who has published a number of books under her pen name and under her own name. Her current release, Echoes of the Heart, a 9-in-1 novella collection titled “Pony Express Romance Collection” released April 1. Donna is also a ghostwriter and editor of fiction and non-fiction, and judges in a number of writing contests. She will be teaching an online course for American Christian Fiction Writers in June 2017, “Don’t let your subplots sink your story”. Donna loves history and research, and travels extensively for both.

Connect with Donna at: http://www.historythrutheages.wordpress.com/

www.HiStoryThruTheAges.com

Facebook: www.Facebook.com/DonnaschlachterAuthor

Twitter: www.Twitter.com/DonnaSchlachter

Books: http://amzn.to/2ci5Xqq

 

A Writer’s Garden with Author Caroline Warfield

Tags

A Writer's Garden, Caroline Warfield, Catherine Castle’s gardening blog, gardening with deer, historical romance, Pre-Victorian romance, romance set in India, The Reluctant Wife

Let’s welcome author/gardener Caroline Warfield to A Writer’s Garden today. She’ll be talking about the garden enemy that makes all gardeners cringe—deer—especially when they see their neighbors putting salt licks in their back yards for the foraging creatures. Welcome, Caroline.

Thanks, Catherine.

Let me say it clearly: I love gardens. As my various biographies have stated, I am enamored of gardens, but not so much the act of gardening. Gardening can be glorious or backbreaking in turns. It can also be heartbreaking. Five years ago we moved to Cheltenham, an older suburb that borders Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I left behind three lovely, manageable flowerbeds and my thyme garden, a mature herb garden designed around a sundial, a sort of literary conceit with several varieties of thyme used in Edward Eagers The Time Garden. I miss it still. That’s the glorious part.

The heartbreaking part wasn’t so much leaving it behind, as facing the new environment and finding an army of enemies. As if weather, rainfall variations, clay soil, dying fruit trees, and insects weren’t enough, I discovered some of my new neighbors to be a scourge upon plant life. That is to say, we are surrounded by white-tailed deer.

When I asked if I needed to worry about my raspberry plants, my grandson sagely replied, “These are city deer, Grandma. They will eat anything.” He didn’t exaggerate. They leave my daffodils and irises alone, but tulips, hostas, and annuals are at their mercy. The lovely hydrangeas I saw when we looked at the house have been reduced to nothing. They almost destroyed the buckeye tree we brought from Ohio until we fenced it in. The beasts target small trees.

buckeye tree

You may wonder how a deer or two can do so much damage. One can do quite a lot, and we have many more. I’ve counted eight in our yard at one time. Other family members once counted a herd of fifteen nearby. A scourge, indeed.

Research quickly turned up a wide variety of home remedies from human hair (which appears to have been a preferred tactic of the previous owner), to soaps to hot sauce, all of which need to be repeated often. Some more repulsive home remedies and commercial deer repellent products involve foul smells. None worked well for us.

We declared a moratorium on planting flowers until we know more about deer resistant plants and methods. Abandoning a vegetable garden, however, will not happen. It is my red line in the sand. After a disasterous first season, we declared all out war. We had only one option. We constructed an anti-deer fortress.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It has served us well for two seasons and we expect success this year as well. It is too narrow to tempt them to jump in and, while lower than experts recommend, is high enough to keep them from leaning in to the vegetables. They get a wee nibble of tomato plant late in the season, but leave the fruit alone. I don’t begrudge them.

For now we’re enjoying Philadelphia’s abundance of public flower gardens and wondering how they do it! So far, only Bowman’s Wildflower Refuge has revealed their strategy. They have a ten-foot electronic fence around the refuge. Sigh.

 

About the Author:

Caroline Warfield finds walking through a garden deeply soul satisfying, and she doesn’t need to own the garden to enjoy it. She has been thrilled with public gardens all over the world, from Singapore to London to New York.

Caroline has been many things: traveler, librarian, poet, raiser of children, bird watcher, Internet and Web services manager, genealogist—even a nun. She reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows overlooking bird feeders, trees, and her deer fortress where she writes family-centered romance with interconnected characters.

Her current series involves three cousins who have been driven apart by lies and deceit, drawn back to England by family ties, and sustained by loves of their own. Her books have a moderate level of sensuality. She believes that in romance sex will happen, but it can be handled with sensitivity and care. In such scenes she focuses on relationship, commitment, and emotion not eroticism per se.

In The Reluctant Wife, a disgraced Bengal army officer finds himself responsible for two half-caste daughters and a headstrong, interfering,—but attractive—widow. This time, failure is not an option.

Genre: Historical Romance, Pre-Victorian (set in India and England in 1835)

Heat Level: Moderate. or warm

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/Reluctant-Wife-Children-Empire-Book-ebook/dp/B06XYRRR1R/

 

Madelyn Hill and Highland Faith on Wednesday Writers

Tags

book excerpt from Highland Faith, Catherine Castle Wednesday Writers series, Highland Faith by Madelyn Hill, Highland Romance, historical romance, researching historical romance, sensual romance, Wild Thistle Trilogy by Madelyn Hill

Today Wednesday Writers welcomes historical author Madelyn Hill. Madelyn will be talking about researching for historical details, specifically related to how she researched for the second book in her Wild Thistle Trilogy, Highland Faith. Welcome, Madelyn!

 Thanks, Catherine.

Writing historicals can sometimes be a daunting task, especially when we are writing to the whim of a muse and we need to be able to accurately research historical details. Highland Faith is the second book in the Wild Thistle Trilogy to be released May 17^th. My heroine is a strong and feisty lass, whom is also a huntress.

While the weapon of choice for Faith is a bow and arrow, my expertise in this realm was limited by my experiences from a decade ago. Using a bow and arrow, finding the right terms, feelings, and nuances can be tricky because you must go back in history and determine the right materials, language, and hunted beasties. You have to know the landscape and where an animal may lurk and how a huntress will have the advantage as she stalks her prey.

Early in the novel, the reader learns of Faith’s hunting experiences and how she perfected her skill. A skill which puts her at a level higher than any other clansmen. While men appreciate the fruits of her labor, they find it somewhat emasculating how she bests them on hunts. And the hero, our handsome Graeme, is skeptical of her skill until he witnesses her prowess first hand.

Since I only write historicals (for now), I am used to researching every detail. I often use my book, English Through The Ages, to see if word choices are appropriate or Google certain words to see their specific usage during the novel’s time period. This also means I have to research archery terms and techniques. I had used a bow and arrow before, however aiming toward a target is vastly different than aiming toward a moving animal. There are consequences when wielding such a weapon and the archer must be nimble, strong and accurate.

Since Faith had the freedom to traipse about the MacAlister territory to hunt game, I needed to know the landscape. For this, I used Google Earth. I’m a tech nerd, so if I can use technology to aid me in any way, I’ll use it. Google Earth allows you to “zoom” into a certain location and experience a “street view” of the location. This is incredibly helpful and even though my novel is set hundreds of years ago, I can still get the feel of the vegetation, geography, and perhaps stumble upon a cave or unique land feature to use in my story.

Thanks, Madelyn. I love to research using Google Earth, too. And now for an excerpt from Highland Faith.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Highland Faith

By Madelyn Hill

Excerpt:

’Twas her sister’s fault.

Hope had married Aidan MacKerry, leading the MacAlister Clan together, and now they were acting like lovesick cows. Aye, they’d recently had another bairn and ’twas why they were smiling like amadans. But Faith MacAlister had enough of the cooing and kissing.

She had to leave the Wild Thistle Keep or go mad.

Hunting was the only option.

The size of the MacAlister Clan dictated hunting trips each fortnight to keep the larder full. Faith grabbed her quiver and bow, left word with the guards at the palisade to inform the lairds Aidan and Hope her direction, and left to find sustenance and peace.

And now, three days later she continued stalking the elusive stag. She kenned her sister would be close to sending a group of men to look for her in a day or so. Luckily she’d managed an agreement with her sister whom was also her laird. An agreement between sisters proved hard to negotiate, but she’d won in the end. And she hunted without escort as long as she never left without telling the guards her direction.

A sun filled day, just cool enough not to need too much clothing that may hinder her movement, but warm enough she didn’t need to start a fire to warm herself. She stretched in the britches she’d stolen from one of the stable hands. Aye, she’d tried the tartan her sister Hope loved to wear, but found it too revealing as she moved and climbed to find her prey. And a gown, the devil take them, ’twould make it nigh impossible to hunt and secure meat for the clan.

She moved quietly through the woods. Each footfall, purposeful, silently brought her closer to her elusive prey.

Aye, there he stood. In the morning mist that hovered just above the low foliage, a proud, beautiful stag who’d avoided her arrow for too long. Huge, with several points on his rack and a cocksure stance stating, I’m king of the forest. She hated to take down the magnificent animal. But he’d provide for her clan and her duty dictated securing meat for those who depended on her.

She drew her bow, stretching the sinew, straining her arm muscles as she prepared to let the arrow fly. The feather fletching grazed her cheek as she held her breath waiting for the perfect moment to release. She’d traveled far for this chance, stalked her prey as her father had taught her so many years ago with her so wee she could barely hold a bow, much less draw and aim. And today, her size may well again thwart her hunting. ’Twould be problematic once the massive stag was felled. She’d have to dress him in the field and lug the meat back with her. No matter, she’d manage as always.

Two more steps forward. Stared down the length of the arrow past the head, ready to release.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” a man said.

Interested in reading more about Faith and Graeme? Highland Faith, Book 2 in the Wild Thistle Trilogy will be released May 17^th! You can find the book and pre-order link at Amazon

To my readers of sweet romance, please note that Highland Faith is a sensual romance.

About the Author:

Madelyn Hill has always loved the written word. From the time she could read and all through her school years, she’d sneak books into her textbooks during school. And she devoured books daily. At the age of 10 she proclaimed she wanted to be a writer. After being a “closet” writer for several years, she sent her manuscripts out there and is now published with Soul Mate Publishing. And she couldn’t be happier! A resident of Western New York, she moved from one Rochester to another Rochester to be with the love of her life. They now have 3 children and keep busy cooking, watching their children’s sporting events, and of course reading!

Connect with Madelyn at:

Website:  http://www.madelynhill.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/madelyn.hill.94

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorMaddyHill

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/madelynhill68

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/authormadelynhill

Madelyn Hill’s Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Madelyn-Hill/e/B00ELRG34U

Wednesday Writers Welcomes Ada Brownell and Peach Blossom Ranch

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Ada Brownell, book excerpt from Peach Blossom Ranch, Catherine Castle Wednesday Writers series, Christian fiction, fiction about insane asylums, historical romance, Peahc Blossom Ranch

Today Wednesday Writers Welcomes Ada Brownell, author of Peach Blossom Ranch, a book that has been described as suspense, romance, humor, murder, insanity, hope, fun, wrapped in a Western you won’t forget.

Welcome, Ada.

 

Thanks, Catherine.

You won’t believe the work required to run a peach and horse ranch, or the types of diagnoses that could get you committed to an asylum in the early 1900s.

To write this historical romance I drew from my  experiences growing up in Fruita, Colo., near Palisade’s peach country, and from my years as a journalist covering the Colorado Mental Health Institute at Pueblo, a former asylum.

In this Historical Romance, a handsome young man inherits a ranch in ruin and hopes to marry a beautiful young widow who is an attorney. But she takes up the case of a brilliant doctor committed to an asylum because of one seizure. Will the rancher, the attorney, and the asylum patient achieve their dreams?

Peach blossoms, regal horse flesh, three beautiful women and one handsome rancher almost fall to the background in this book as an insane asylum surfaces, holding people who are not imbeciles, as they called them in the early 1900s.

My career as a newspaper reporter dropped me into that pit, and one piece of authentic historical information that I was given by the now Colorado Mental Health Institute at Pueblo told the story about some of the characters that appear in my historical romance, The Peach Blossom Rancher. The rancher’s intended wife is an attorney and she’s trying to get a doctor released who was committed because of one seizure. Here’s how the document ended up in my book:

*****

Silence descended on the courtroom as the patient stared. Finally, Dr. Dillon Haskill spoke. “The list is headed, ‘The Eleventh Biennial Report from the Board of Lunacy Commissioners, dated 1899 to 1900.’ First, I’ll read some diagnoses that might”—he eyed the judge—”might show insanity. Seven types of mania. Six types of melancholia. Five types of paranoia. Nine types of dementia.”

He took a deep breath, squirmed at the straitjacket, and then started on the list again. “Now for the questionable diagnoses. Thirty-nine patients admitted because of intemperance.” He smiled. “I don’t think those folks listened to Solomon, who wrote in the Bible, Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whoever is deceived thereby is not wise.”

Snickers drifted over the room.

He searched the list again. “Eleven men and three women admitted with syphilis. End stage of this disease can result in insanity, but are the patients held in an area separate from others to avoid spread of the disease?”

Under Dillon’s condemning gaze, the superintendent squirmed.

Dillon tipped his head toward the paper in the silent courtroom. “Here are only a few of the ones I believe aren’t a true diagnosis of lunacy. Religious excitement.” Dillon scanned the audience where low murmurs began. “Be sure and don’t get excited about meeting Jesus and having your sins forgiven, or you could end up in the loony bin.”

People covered their mouths to prevent laughter from exploding.

“Domestic trouble.” Dillon cocked his head sideways. “Better be sure the neighbors don’t hear arguments with your wife.” A low giggle swept through the crowd.

“Ill health and privation. Better not get sick or hungry. Exposure. Don’t stay out in the cold or the sun too long, or you’ll be found insane.”

The superintendent jumped to his feet. “This imbecile is again making a mockery of this court.”

The judge faced the attorney. “This is an interesting list. May I see the paper he’s reading?”

Archibald handed it to the judge.

The hard lines in the judge’s bulldog face softened as he studied the shaking paper in his quivering hand. “I’ll read some of these to the court myself. Jealousy. Sunstroke. Grief. Disappointment. Childbirth. Rheumatism. Injury. Suppression of menses. Excessive use of tobacco. Injury to spine. Loss of money. Christian Science. Cerebral hemorrhage. Hmmm. According to what I’ve learned, that is a stroke where people often become paralyzed on one side, and it may mess up their speech, but they don’t lose their minds. I guess it goes along with ‘injury to spine.’ Paralysis is what we have here with the teacher, Jim Cook.”

He lowered the paper, studied Dr. Haskill, Pete, the boy with Down’s Syndrome, and Jim, and then shook his head, and his eyes bore into the superintendent. “Who makes these diagnoses?”

 

 

Peach Blossom Ranch

by Ada Brownell

EXCERPT, End of Chapter One

 

The young lady rancher flipped her blonde braid over her shoulder. “But I wouldn’t keep her around here. She has a temper to match her red hair. Yet, after her parents died, she lost her spunk. Claims Wellington compromised her, but nobody believed it.”

John took his knife out of his pocket and began grooming his fingernails. “She was doing a lot of praying when we found her in the barn loft, and she wanted me and Abe to leave her alone. Soon as I understood a baby was on the way, I went for Polly.”

Edwina wrinkled her little turned-up nose. “What’s that terrible odor?”

John stepped to the fence. “Might be coming from my prize pigs. See the big one over there I call Gertie?”

Gertie trotted close and rubbed her prickly mud-covered back on the hog wire.

“I expect to make big money from pork while I rebuild the horse herd and work in the peach orchards. You ought to try a few pigs. You get a quicker turnover with your money than with horses. Your papa used to raise them. Besides, it’s always nice to have smoked ham and bacon available.”

Edwina leaned over the fence. The pigs grappled with each other over the slop, snorting and grunting. “I might get some. The little ones are cute. Since my papa is in the wheelchair, I’m running everything. How is the pork market doing?”

“It sounded great to me. It …”

Gertie stuck her snout through the fence and sucked Edwina’s lacy pink dress. Edwina jerked the skirt out of the slimy jaws and then, stringy pig saliva slid down her pretty legs.

“Eeeeewwww!” she squealed, holding her dress out away from her. “I didn’t know pigs would eat clothing.”

Laughter almost escaped John’s lips. He pressed his fist over his mouth until his insides quit quaking in case she was mad enough to use the gun strapped on her slim middle. “Gertie probably smelled the cornstarch you used to starch your dress. I’d guess for her it was quite tasty. I’ll get you a towel.”

“Don’t bother.” She grabbed a big blue handkerchief from the buggy, wiped at her legs and jumped in the driver’s seat. “You probably wanted me to stand over by the fence so that would happen. You are incorrigible, John Parks. Get someone else to go to the church picnic with you!”

As the dust rose from her departure, she almost ran into the mailman.

John meandered to the mailbox. Strange. He hadn’t asked her to the picnic. He never intended to.

Want to read more? Read the first chapter free or purchase the book at http://ow.ly/4ETL302QdhW

 

 

About the Author:

Ada Brownell has been writing for Christian publications since age 15 and spent much of her life as a daily newspaper reporter. She has a B.S. degree in Mass Communications and worked most of her career at The Pueblo Chieftain in Colorado where she spent the last seven years as a medical writer. After moving to Springfield, MO in her retirement, she continues to freelance for Christian publications and write non-fiction and fiction books.

She currently is working on another novel, plus compiling her more than 125 articles from The Pentecostal Evangel into a book.

She is author of Peach Blossom Rancher, released By Elk Lake Publishing in 2016; The Lady Fugitive, Elk Lake 2014; Joe the Dreamer: The Castle and the Catapult, 2013; Swallowed by Life: Mysteries of Death, Resurrection and the Eternal, 2011; Imagine the Future You, released 2013; and Confessions of a Pentecostal, Radiant Books, out-of-print but released in 2012 for Kindle;. All the books are available in paper or for Kindle. Imagine the Future You also is an Audio Book.

You can connect with Ada at

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/AdaBrownellWritingMinistries

Twitter: @adabrownell

Blog: http://inkfromanearthenvessel.blogspot.com/ Stick to Your Soul Encouragement

Amazon Ada Brownell author page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001KJ2C06

 

 

 

To Riches Again by Darlene Franklin–Wednesday Writers

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best-selling author Darlene Franklin, book excerpt from To Riches Again, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Darlene Franklin, historical romance, Inspirational romance, orphan train, Spinster Brides and orphan trains, To Riches Again

Today Darlene Franklin is back on Wednesday Writers to talk about the origin of her inspy historical romance novella To Riches Again. She is also sharing an excerpt from the book. Welcome, Darlene!

 

Thanks, Catherine.

 Like most of my books, To Riches Again grew from several sources.

It started with a Bible verse. When I read Isaiah 32:18-20 in The Message, I thought, “Here’s a story. Someone cut off from prosperity, who seeks a new life in the country.”

My people will live in a peaceful neighborhood— in safe houses, in quiet gardens. The forest of your pride will be clear-cut, the city showing off your power leveled. But you will enjoy a blessed life, planting well-watered fields and gardens, with your farm animals grazing freely. (Isaiah 32:18-20)

Before I developed the idea further, my editor (Cynthia Hickey at Forget Me Not Romance) came up with a series idea: Spinster brides and the orphan trains. The rest of the story came to my mind at that point. A rich socialite lost everything in the stock market crash of 1929 and traveled west with a group of orphans, looking for a new life for herself as well as them.

The trains weren’t actually called “orphan trains” at the time of their operation, and not all of the children were literal orphans. However, for the sake of simplicity I made Ian and Bridget orphans. In a novella, I also shied away from the hard years facing Kansas farmers in the 1930s. (The Wards survive the Dust Bowl poorer but intact. That much I know.)

The story fits into what is known historically. The orphan trains which began operation 1854 drew to a close in 1929. Agreements which had allowed continued placement of orphan children in several western states expired and weren’t renewed. Instead, local communities increased their support to allow poverty-stricken families to remain together.

I couldn’t identify the actual date of the last orphan train, but I did locate a suggestion that it traveled as far as Kansas in 1930. To the best of my knowledge, Elyssa’s story is plausible.

 

TO RICHES AGAIN

by Darlene Franklin

 

Elyssa’s new yellow dress

A year ago, life was full of promise.

Elyssa Philbin partied with the rest of New York’s elite, not worrying about anything beyond her newest dress.

Ian and Bridge McDonnell, although part of a poverty-stricken family, lived secure in their parents’ love.

Bill Ward looked forward to a prosperous crop, a new baby, and his loving wife.

Everything changed before the calendar turned to 1930.

To Riches Again chronicles Elyssa and Bill’s return to wholeness after they have both lost everything—thanks in part to two orphan children.

Excerpt:

Elyssa Philbin straightened the bow tie around eight-year-old Ian McDonnell’s neck and freshened his sister Bridget’s braids.

Ian took his little sister’s hand. “Do you think Mr. Ward will still want us when he meets us?”

Elyssa’s heart quickened. “I’m sure he will.” Although how a single man planned to raise two children on his own baffled her. “God has just the right home waiting for you.” She had prayed for each child since they’d left New York two weeks ago.

The dozen children still on the train were the last of the hundred who’d left New York with her to be placed out of their homes. Not because the good people of that city had provided homes for all its needy children, but because of changing political and economic times. The organization which for seventy-five years had provided thousands of orphans with new lives via trains west was shutting down.

That made the parents and children brought together by this final train doubly blessed. She would have to trust Ian and Bridget’s future to the Lord—and to Mr. Ward. She worried about them, though. Had their very Irish names warned him of their red hair and pale skin which would burn easily? Would he spook at the sight of Ian’s spindly arms? Would he see Bridget’s intelligence and sweetness beneath her grimy exterior?

And what about Mr. Ward? Elyssa hated to see children growing up without two parents. And if—when, surely—Mr. Ward married, would newborn babies take Ian and Bridget’s places in his heart? Would his wife reject them?

 

Want to read more? You can find To Riches Again here.

 

About the Author:

Best-selling hybrid author Darlene Franklin’s greatest claim to fame is that she writes full-time from a nursing home. This year she expects to reach fifty unique titles in print and she’s also contributed to more than twenty nonfiction titles. Her column, “The View Through my Door,” appears monthly in Bookfun Magazine. Her most recent titles are The Pony Express Romance Collection, Love’s Compass, and To Riches Again.

 

Website and blog  Facebook  Amazon author page

You can check out more of Darlene’s posts on this site by clicking here.

 

Amanda Cabot talks about A Stolen Heart on Wednesday Writers

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A Stolen Heart, Amanda Cabot, BEst selling Author Amanda Cabot, book excerpt of A Stolen Heart, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Christian romance, historical romance, Secrets, TExas Hill Country book settings, The Cimarron Creek trilogy

 

Today on Wednesday Writers I have best-selling author Amanda Cabot who will be sharing an excerpt from her Historical romance A Stolen Heart where a young woman’s plans for the future are shattered by the revelation that her fiancé has married another. Sounds like there’s some conflict there, Amanda, and maybe a secret or two. What other secrets and questions do the characters in A Stolen Heart face?

Secrets. We all have them. Some are small; others are big. What they have in common is that we don’t want anyone – and I mean anyone – to know them. When I started plotting the Cimarron Creek trilogy, I knew there would be one large secret that spans the three books, but I also knew there would be a number of smaller ones, because we all have secrets, and when they’re revealed, there are often unexpected consequences. Since this is a new series set in a new town in the Texas Hill Country, my first challenge was to develop that town. Once I understood its history and saw the dynamics between its founding families, I started asking myself what would bring outsiders to Cimarron Creek and why they might stay, even when they weren’t offered a normal Texas welcome. The answers surprised me. They also resulted in a new set of questions.

• What would you do if you traveled more than a thousand miles only to learn that the man you loved married someone else?
• How would you make a living in a town that has no need for your training?
• What would you do if you found yourself in a town where you were distrusted, simply because of where you were born?
• Who would you trust? The sheriff whose father is sure you’re an enemy? The other men who are eager to court you? The town’s schoolteacher who has good reasons to dislike you? The older woman who seems to have a dark secret in her life?

Those are some of the questions Lydia, the heroine of A Stolen Heart, has to answer. Some answers come easily, others don’t, but they all lead Lydia into the greatest adventure of her life, an adventure that just might end with love.

 

 

A Stolen Heart

By Amanda Cabot

From afar, Cimarron Creek seems like an idyllic town tucked in the Texas Hill Country. But when former schoolteacher Lydia Crawford steps onto its dusty streets in 1880, she finds a town with a deep-seated resentment of Northerners—like her. Lydia won’t let that get her down, though. All will be well when she’s reunited with her fiancé.

But when she discovers he has disappeared—and that he left behind a pregnant wife—Lydia is at a loss about what to do next. The handsome sheriff urges her to trust him, but can she trust anyone in this town where secrets are as prevalent as bluebonnets in spring?

 

Excerpt

Lydia took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, all in a desperate attempt not to faint. She had never fainted, not even when Hortense, her closest friend at the academy, had laced her corset too tightly. Unfortunately, tight corsets were nothing compared to this.

Edgar was married!

She’d survived the long journey; she’d endured the many snubs; she’d even managed to keep her composure when she learned Edgar was gone; but she’d come unraveled when the sheriff had mentioned Edgar’s wife.

Lydia felt the blood drain from her face, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. It couldn’t be true. The sheriff must be mistaken. But if he wasn’t . . . Lydia’s legs grew weak and her spine threatened to crumble. Stop it! she told herself. You’re not going to faint. But her body refused to obey, and before she knew what was happening, the sheriff had put his arm around her.

She should object. After all, it wasn’t proper for a strange man to be touching her. Even though she and Edgar had been betrothed, he had never been so bold in public. Lydia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She couldn’t object when the sheer strength of the sheriff’s arm was doing more to calm her nerves than her careful breathing.

Edgar was married!

She took another breath, exhaling slowly as she tried to make sense of a world that had suddenly gone topsy-turvy. Though the sheriff’s words had lodged inside her, Lydia refused to believe them. Edgar couldn’t be married. He simply could not. She hadn’t given up her comfortable life and traveled all this way to meet a man who’d found himself another wife.

 

Want to read more? You can find Amanda’s book A Stolen Heart at:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Christian Book Distributors

 

 

About the Author:

Amanda Cabot is the bestselling author of more than thirty novels including the Texas Dreams trilogy, the Westward Winds series, the Texas Crossroad trilogy, and Christmas Roses. A former director of Information Technology, she has written everything from technical books and articles for IT professionals to mysteries for teenagers and romances for all ages. Amanda is delighted to now be a fulltime writer of Christian romances, living happily ever after with her husband in Wyoming.

Social Media Links:

www.amandacabot.com

https://www.facebook.com/amanda.j.cabot

https://twitter.com/AmandaJoyCabot/

http://amandajoycabot.blogspot.com/

 

 

Wednesday Writers–Soar Like Eagles by Terri Wangard

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Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Doughnut Girl, historical romance, hostoricla fiction, Red Cross Clubmobiles, Soar Like Eagles, Terri Wangard, WWII fiction, WWII Red Cross

Today Wednesday Writers welcomes Terri Wangard and her book Soar Like Eagles. Today’s post is a bit longer than most, but I found the background on her heroine’s job fascinating, and I got caught up in the excerpt. Soar Like Eagles won the ACFW First Impressions contest as a historical, but could be considered a historical romance. I hope you’ll enjoy them too. So, here’s Terri.

Thanks, Catherine.

For the third book of my World War II series, I needed something to involve my main character with. At first I considered the train canteens, where volunteers laden with food met troop trains crisscrossing the country. That wouldn’t work though, because my navigator was heading overseas and I didn’t want a correspondence relationship. Then I discovered the Red Cross clubmobiles.

The American Red Cross operated canteens on the home front and clubs and clubmobiles overseas during World War II to provide soldiers and sailors with a cup of coffee, a doughnut, and a bit of friendly conversation that gave the men a familiar connection with home.

The Red Cross operated canteens in World War I when thousands of service personnel were traveling by train between their homes and camps and then to the ships that took them overseas. With the United States’ sudden entrance into World War II in 1941, the American Red Cross once again cared for troops on the move. Stateside, the Red Cross operated canteens near military installations, at train stations, ports of embarkation, and at military airfields. Canteen volunteers worked tirelessly securing donated and purchased supplies, preparing food and drinks, setting up facilities, and serving the troops.

Around the world, the Red Cross staffed permanent service clubs, traveling clubmobiles, and other recreational facilities. Service clubs provided refreshments, accommodations, and comfort and recreational activities wherever American troops were located overseas. In major cities, they offered meals, recreational activities, overnight accommodations, and barbershops and laundries. Some also provided sightseeing opportunities, touring museums, castles and cathedrals, and attending local theaters and movie houses.

Smaller clubs provided food in outlying areas near American military camps. The Red Cross also operated rest homes, often in stately manor houses in rural, tranquil locations overseas, for service personnel needing respite from the pressures of war.

To serve military sites in isolated areas, the Red Cross used clubmobiles in Great Britain in 1942 and later, the continent. Staffed by three American Red Cross women and a local driver in England, they visited several sites in a day, bringing refreshments, entertainment, and a touch of home to the troops in a foreign land. They used converted half-ton trucks and single-deck London buses, which featured kitchen equipment for making and serving doughnuts and coffee. Some carried phonographs and loudspeakers to provide music for the troops, and the women often danced with the servicemen. On the continent, the women had to drive and service their trucks.

Many American servicemen had never traveled far from home. At Red Cross clubs and clubmobiles in far-flung places around the globe, they received a connection to home and civilian life through friendly American women and familiar food. The Red Cross served a basic purpose of raising morale.

 

Soar Like Eagles

By Terri Wangard

 

Carol Doucet of Soar Like Eagles was proud to be a Doughnut Girl.

She wants to do her part for the war, but struggles to maintain her ideals.

He joins the air force, hoping to find peace.

            Carol becomes a Red Cross doughnut girl, serving GIs and boosting their morale. Believing wartime romances are doomed to disappointment, she attempts to avoid entanglements and transfers to France, away from Chet, the airman she’s falling for.

Chet’s father always belittled him. Now a well-regarded navigator, he longs to prove him wrong. After he’s ditched in the North Sea, parachuted into France, and been called before a review, his focus changes to staying alive, and winning the Red Cross girl he keeps crossing paths with.

 

Chapter 1

Dennison, Ohio

Wednesday, December 29, 1943

Carol Doucet unscrewed the bolt and wrestled the meat grinder off the table’s edge. As she scraped the last of the ham sandwich spread out of the grinder, her friend Fran laid out slices of bread.

Fran blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “I still can’t believe you gave up your job.”

Carol pursed her lips. Why couldn’t Fran understand her desire? They’d been over this countless times since she’d received notice from the Red Cross to report to Washington.

“Giving up my job as a society reporter can hardly be considered a sacrifice.” She twirled her spoon in the air. “‘Olive Sullivan wore a crimson gown trimmed with antique lace to last night’s Rotary Christmas party.’” The spoon hit the table with a clank. “That is so frivolous. Who cares with, a war going on? I’m determined to do my part in the war effort, no matter how insignificant it seems.”

“What do you call this?” Fran waved her hand around the train station’s back room before grabbing the bowl of ham salad. She slopped the spread onto the slices of bread. “We’re volunteering our time, our food, and our thanks to the servicemen coming through Ohio. Carol, you don’t have to go overseas to serve coffee and doughnuts.”

Carol added top slices of bread, cut the sandwiches in half diagonally, and stacked them on a platter. “No, but I want to go. The war is having a profound effect on our generation and I want to be part of it, to see it. I want to help. I’m sure I’ll still have opportunities to write while overseas, maybe not as a reporter, but about my own experiences.”

“Wars are deadly, Carol. You could be killed.”

“The Red Cross won’t send us to the front. I’ll be safe.”

“Are you sure you’re not just running away from Sally and Mike?”

Fran’s quiet question stopped Carol’s hand from draping a tea towel over the sandwiches. “I can’t believe you would think that.”

Someone started a phonograph record, and the melancholy strains of “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” flooded the train station. Carol winced. A song about a soldier dreaming of being home with his loved ones for the holiday was not going to cheer the soldiers and sailors criss-crossing the country in training and preparation for shipping out to the war zones.

Another canteen volunteer poked her head in the kitchen door. “A train arrives in five minutes, ladies.”

Five minutes. Good. The song would be finished by then.

Carol hoisted the platter, careful not to topple the sandwiches, and headed out for the serving tables. If she was honest with herself, the opportunity to leave Sally behind was a joyful thought. She bit her lip. Someday, the events that had transpired last fall might be funny, but for now they were still too shocking to be believed.

After three dates, Mike had asked her to marry him before he reported for naval training. Carol didn’t regret saying no. He possessed a wild streak that scared her. Wartime marriages might be patriotic, sending off a sailor happy in the knowledge he had someone at home waiting for him. But what about when he came back to a stranger? How many of those quickie weddings would lead to lifelong love? Carol envisioned her parents laughing together as they washed the supper dishes, and sighed. She couldn’t imagine sharing intimate moments with Mike.

She’d been shocked when her good friend, Sally, waltzed in four days after the rejection and announced she would marry Mike. What was Sally thinking? They’d had five days together before Mike shipped out, and now Sally was pregnant. Carol shuddered every time she thought of it.

Fran followed her out with a heaping basket of apples. “I know you’re relieved not to be in Sally’s shoes, but I heard someone ask if you wish you hadn’t turned your back on a husband and baby. Busybodies can get annoying real fast, and the timing of your departure suggests a desire to avoid them.”

Long tables groaned with goodies set out for the troops in transit. Carol shifted a bowl of someone’s homemade divinity candy to make room for her sandwich platter. She accepted a rack of quart bottles of milk from a neighbor and began pouring the milk into glasses.

“A coincidence. You know I’ve wanted to join the Red Cross all year, but they have that minimum age requirement. Next month I’ll be twenty-five and eligible. As it is, I’m surprised I’m allowed to report for training before my birthday.”

The train whistled in with a squeal of brakes and a hiss of steam. A deluge of young soldiers and sailors raced into the station. Carol smiled. It was always the same. Some of the boys stepped right up while others stopped and stared at the abundance of food. She grabbed a knife to slice one of the cakes on her table.

“I hope you boys brought your appetites.” Mrs. Wills served as president of the Dorcas Society at the church Carol attended. “Help yourself. We’ve got all kinds of sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, fruit, cookies, cakes, pies, coffee.” Her voice faded into the din of hundreds of voices.

A tall, quiet officer dressed in an airman’s uniform stepped up to the table and hesitantly selected a sandwich he placed in an empty box marked with a “K.” Carol scooped up a slice of cake and offered it. “How about some delicious, prize-winning cherry cake?”

He smiled and accepted the dessert. With his first bite, his eyes brightened. “Mmm, I can see why it’s a prize winner.”

Carol grinned. “My neighbor made it. Another slice for the road, or should I say, the rail?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Holding out his box, he plucked an apple from the basket and added it to his meal. “This is really great, what you’re doing here. Do you use up your own ration stamps?”

“It’s our way of thanking you for what you’re doing. Communities from all around take turns providing food. Today it’s a ladies group from a church in Canton.” Carol removed an empty plate and helped Fran slide in a new tray of cupcakes.

The airman lingered nearby, sipping a glass of milk, watching the hubbub, and nodding in time to “Angels We Have Heard on High.” After pointing out to a trio of sailors which sandwiches were ham, chicken, or egg salad, Carol came back to him. “Are you traveling cross country?”

He grimaced. “No, thank goodness. That’s not a fancy Pullman car we’re riding in. I can’t tell you how good it feels to walk around.”

He snatched an egg from a platter being carried to the table, and his jacket gaped open. Carol spotted navigator wings adorning his shirt. The only planes she knew of that employed a navigator were the big four-engine bombers. She shivered as though someone had allowed the winter breeze to sweep in.

The airman didn’t seem to notice as he finished the slice of cake and wiped his fingers on a handkerchief. His eyebrows lifted. “What does the C stand for?”

“The C? Oh!” Carol touched the flowery initial embroidered on her blouse. “Carol. And you are?”

“Chet.”

“All aboard.” The stationmaster’s call echoed through the station.

Chet handed her his empty glass. “Sure doesn’t take long to get the train watered when there’s something worth getting off for.” He dipped his head. “It’s been nice talking to you, Carol.”

“Godspeed, Chet.” The farewell slid off her tongue as though she said it every day. She’d heard it explained in church as “May God prosper you.” As she watched the handsome brown-eyed airman stride outside, the expression seemed most appropriate.

The canteen emptied as the servicemen ran back to their train. A moment of silence reigned as the ladies caught their breath.

“Whee. I don’t know what they feed them in the military, but it must not be enough.” Fran materialized beside Carol. “We’ll be lucky if our food holds out until the next shift arrives.”

“I’ve heard they subsist on K rations or C rations, or some little box of canned stuff they have to eat cold. This is a smorgasbord in comparison.” Carol stared out the window as the train chugged away. Chet’s box must have held K rations at one time.

“Carol? Come on, we have to get ready for the next train.”

“Right.” She looked at the glass in her hand. “I’ll wash coffee cups and glasses this time.” She turned toward the kitchen, but Fran stood in her way.

“You want to wash dishes? What’s gotten into you?”

Carol leaned back against the table and grinned. “Did you see who I was talking to? Three dates with him and I might have to change my mind about saying no.” She straightened up with another shiver. “Seriously, I wouldn’t mind getting to know him, except he’s on a bomber crew. In Europe, they’re dropping faster than flies.”

 

Want to read more? You can find Soar Like Eagles Amazon

 

About the Author:

Terri Wangard grew up in Green Bay, Wisconsin, during the Lombardi Glory Years. Her first Girl Scout badge was the Writer. These days she is writing historical fiction, and won the 2013 Writers on the Storm contest and 2013 First Impressions, as well as being a 2012 Genesis finalist. Holder of a bachelor’s degree in history and a master’s degree in library science, she lives in Wisconsin. Her research included going for a ride in a WWII B-17 Flying Fortress bomber. Classic Boating Magazine, a family business since 1984, keeps her busy as an associate editor.

Connect with Terri: www.terriwangard.com Facebook: Pinterest:

Wednesday Writers–The House That Inspired the Novella Hidden Dreams by Rose Allen McCauley

Tags

Barbour Publishing, Catherine Castle's Wednesday Writers blog series, Hidden Dreams, historical romance, Inspirational romance, Rose Allen McCauley, The Courageous Brides Collection

Welcome everyone! Today Rose Allen McCauley is on the Wednesday Writers blog. Rose will be talking about her novella Hidden Dreams which is part of The Courageous Brides Collection from Barbour, and she will also give us a glimpse of the real house that inspired her novella. Welcome, Rose

Thanks, Catherine.

I am happy to report my 2^nd collection for Barbour is now out! The Courageous Brides Collection contains nine novellas about courageous women during the 19^th century. Here’s what Amazon says about the whole collection: Ride into adventures alongside nine determined women of yesteryear whose acts of compassion and bravery attract male attention. Marcy helps displaced Indians. Emmy tends wounds at Fort Snelling. Ronnie stows away on a cattle drive. Daisy disguises herself as a Pony Express rider. Elinor becomes an abolitionist. Mae tames wild horses. Hannah gets help for accident victims. Lucy’s curiosity unnerves criminals. Kate nurses soldiers on the battlefield. Will real dangers douse the sparks of love?

My novella is entitled “Hidden Dreams” and is about a young woman who becomes involved in the Abolitionist movement in Cynthiana, Kentucky. I named the heroine Elinor after my granddaughter who actually lives in the Pre-Civil War home where the book is set. When her grandparents remodeled the house, they discovered a hidden room in the cellar, so some have ventured it might have been part of the Underground Railroad. That was the inspiration for my story. The house is real and still standing, and Harriet Beecher (later Stowe) did go to Washington, KY in 1833, but the rest of the story is fictional. Elinor had to trust God to give her the courage to surrender her safe lifestyle to join the Abolitionist Movement and the Underground Railroad. Here is a picture of the house that inspired the story.

A hidden room. How cool is that? Thanks, Rose. And here’s the blurb and excerpt from

Hidden Dreams

By Rose Allen McCauley

 

In 1833, Elinor Peck, a wealthy and sheltered daughter of a Kentucky lawyer is introduced to the abolitionist movement by her uncle’s new apprentice. Soon, her family loyalty, reputation and heart’s desire are put to the test.

 

Excerpt:

 

“Shug and I found a hidden room in the cellar when we were little. Only the slaves and I know about it.”…

His face scrunched into a frown. “I don’t want to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. This could get us all in deep trouble.”

“I’ve been praying for courage to do what God wants me to do to help the slaves. You’re an answer to that prayer.”

***

And you’re the answer to my prayers in many ways, Elinor. He wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her, and tell her he loved her, but that would have to wait. “We both better get inside. We have a lot to do tomorrow. Tell Shug to come to the back of the hotel where I’ll be building an addition.”

“I will. I’m sure Dottie and Joseph will help, too.”

“Would he know where we could borrow a buggy? I won’t risk involving your uncle by using his.”

“I’ll ask.”

“Thank you.”

“Pleasant dreams.”

“You too.” William nodded, although he doubted he could sleep…

As the afternoon wore on, his energy lagged with each nail he hammered. Shug’s appearance behind a tree at the edge of the house bolstered his strength. He walked in her direction, then turned his back and sanded a piece of wood as he spoke. “Did Elinor tell you what I need?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Chandler. We’s all willing to help—me and my mama and daddy. I’ll leave this note from Miss Elinor behind this tree, and my daddy will be back with a buggy and food and water as soon as it’s dark.” She slipped away before he could thank her.

Grabbing his water jug, he sat down on the backside of the tree, then unfolded the letter and read:

My friends are all willing to help and are cleaning out the room. You may bring the package tonight. Send a note when you know further plans. E

William marveled at Elinor’s astuteness. He’d been too tired to think of telling her to disguise her message, but she’d done so anyway.

Want to read more? Hidden Dreams, part of The Courageous Brides Collection can be found at Amazon.

 

About the Author:

Rose has been writing for over a decade and has five books published. A retired schoolteacher who has been happily married to her college sweetheart for over forty years, they enjoy their growing family of three children and their spouses and five lovely, lively grandkids! She loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her through her website www.rosemccauley.com or twitter @RoseAMcCauley and Facebook