Janice Thompson's Blog, page 2

Can You Hear Me Now?

I don’t know about you, but I love a good audio book. In fact, I love audio books so much that I’ve decided to merge forces with several great narrators/producers and bring many of my favorite books to “audio life.” Check out the following novels, available at minimal cost for Audible users.

If you enjoy these fun stories, please feel free to share the news with your friends who enjoy audio books. Thanks so much!

All Boxed Up

Okay, I’ll admit it: I’ve gone a little crazy. Put me in a box and tie a ribbon around me. I’ve decided to take several of my series and put them into boxed sets. I’ve had a lot of fun placing stories into collections and offering them at affordable prices. Click on the boxes to read about each collection, then share the news on these fun sets!

A List of my eBook Titles

Hi friends,

I hope you’re having an awesome day, filled with great books, great friends and great summer activities.

Speaking of books, I thought it might be fun (and helpful) to list my most popular eBook titles by series. The list is growing and it’s easier to see the book laid out in logical order.

I’m going to start with the cover to my soon-to-be-released romance, Every Girl Gets Confused. Enjoy!

Brides with Style (Contemporary romance/bridal shop/Dallas)

Every Bride Needs a Groom
Every Girl Gets Confused (Available for pre-order)
Every Bride Has Her Day (Coming Spring, 2016)

A Year of Weddings (Contemporary bridesmaid story)

Never a Bridesmaid

Weddings by Bella (Contemporary romance/Galveston)

Fools Rush In
Swinging on a Star
It Had to be You
That’s Amore

Weddings by Design (Contemporary wedding-themed romance/Galveston)

Picture Perfect
The Icing on the Cake
The Dream Dress
A Bouquet of Love

The Bridal Mayhem Mystery Series (Cozy Mystery Series)

The Wedding Caper
Gone with the Groom
Pushing up Daisies
The Perfect Match
Catering to Disaster
Don’t Rock the Boat

Texas Weddings (Contemporary Christian Romance Stories)

A Class of Her Own
A Chorus of One
Sweet Charity
Banking on Love
Angel Incognito
Deep in the Heart of Mayhem

Deep in the Heart of Texas (Boxed Set) (Historical Christian Romance)

Hurricane
Mismatched in Texas

Red, White and Blue Weddings (Contemporary Pennsylvania Romances)

Red Like Crimson
White as Snow
Out of the Blue

Boardwalk Brides (Contemporary New Jersey Romances)

Salt Water Taffie
Cotton Candy Clouds
Sweet Harmony

Backstage Pass (Contemporary California Romances)

Stars Collide
Hello Hollywood
The Director’s Cut

Destined to Meet Collection (Four Contemporary Romances)

Angel Incognito
Sweet Charity
White as Snow
I Think I Do

Music of the Heart Collection (Three Music-Themed Romances)

A Chorus of One
Sweet Harmony
Love me Tender

Individual Titles

Duty to Die
Fill These Empty Arms

I hope you enjoy these inspirational romances. Look for a list of my audio books, coming soon!

 

Every Bride Needs a. . .

Every Bride Needs a Groom

What does every bride need? Why, a groom, of course! Oh, and a dress. And the perfect shoes. And a venue. And a great cake. And bridesmaids. And groomsmen. And on and on and on! Truth is, every bride needs a lot of things on or before her big day. Most of all, she needs a fella who will love and cherish her, no matter what.

I’ve given this “What does a bride need?” question a lot of thought as I’ve prepared for the release of my new book, Every Bride Needs a Groom, (the kick-off story in a new series, Brides with Style). On the evening of April 14th (the book’s official release date) I’ll be hosting an online party in the Every Bride Needs a Groom Book Launch Group on Facebook. You are cordially invited to attend. (No formal attire necessary!)

I’d love to have all Facebook group participants chime in with “something a bride needs” for her big day. Leave a comment to be entered into the drawing(s) to win all sorts of fun prizes: free books, two dozen wedding gown cookies designed by yours truly (see photo on right) and a $50 gift card to Dairy Queen (or online ice cream site, should the winner not have access to a Dairy Queen). Why Dairy Queen, you ask? Well, you’ll just have to read the book to find out!

Feel free to join me at the kick-off party for an all-around great time. In the meantime, enjoy a synopsis of the story:

Small-town girl Katie Fisher is planning her wedding. Sure, her boyfriend hasn’t managed to pop the question just yet, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t enter a contest in Texas Bride magazine to win the dress of her dreams, right? But when her boyfriend breaks up with her and takes a job in another town–the very same day Katie wins her dream dress–her world is turned upside down. Should she claim her prize? And will the hunky former pro-basketball player who runs the swanky Dallas bridal shop–yeah, you read that right–catch on to her humiliation if she does?

A Week of Firsts: Fill These Empty Arms

A Week of Firsts: Don’t Rock the Boat

A Week of Firsts: A Chorus of One

A Week of Firsts: The Wedding Caper

The Story Behind the Story: Gone Fishing

Welcome to a week of firsts, where I’m sharing the first chapter(s) from several of my books. Today’s offering is from one of my favorite stories, Gone Fishing, recently re-published by the Forget Me Not line. Long before I ever came up with Bella, Aunt Rosa, Uncle Laz or any of the other crazy characters from the Weddings by Bella series, there was Sassy. Enjoy her crazy tale!

Chapter One

Sassy Hatchett slipped her legs over the edge of the rickety wooden pier and dipped her toes into the warm, murky waters of the Biloxi River. She twisted a fishhook from her hat and then reached into the front pocket of her worn, blue denim overalls to pull out a small plastic bag filled with ice-cold shrimp. She yanked one out, then ran the clean silver hook straight through it.

“Why can’t everything be this easy?”

A host of irritating mosquitoes suddenly swept down upon her. She swatted them away with a wild swing of her right arm. “Pesky critters. Get on out of here.” They refused to budge, though she continued to slap at the air. Sassy pulled a can of mosquito repellent from the tackle box and sprayed it in every conceivable direction. They disappeared on sight. “Serves you right.”

Reaching for the comfort of a familiar wooden fishing pole, she tried to settle down, though an unexplained anger still gripped her. Troubling thoughts rolled madly through her head. She forced herself to turn her attention to the skies.

“Well, here I am again, Lord. Just You, me, and a mess of catfish I ain’t caught yet.” She lifted up a small, empty ice chest toward heaven, a sign she half-expected to see it filled before the conversation ended. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today, Lord. Nothing seems to be going right. Seems like everything gets me madder than a hornet, and this heat isn’t helping thing either.”

The late August heat enveloped her like a shroud. She paused to lift her hat, wiping the ring of sweat from her brow. Everything was so much easier when Joe was here to help me.

Sassy’s thoughts drifted to her husband, and tears began to flow. Six years had barely begun to ease the pain of his passing. Her heart still longed for him; not a day went by she didn’t think of him, wish she could have just one more moment with the love of her life. The day she’d pulled the ’n Joe’s from the sign out in front of their Bait and Tackle shop had been the saddest day of her life.

“It’s just too much, Lord. Running the store by myself sure ain’t no fun. Everything’s falling apart at the seams. I know I complain about this a lot, but every day it just gets worse. The lock’s broken on the front door and the roof needs to be patched. I can’t get up there to do it myself. And the nerve of those vendors, trying to talk me into selling my bait recipes to the big named companies. I won’t do it, Lord. I won’t!”

The tears flowed down her cheeks. Sassy added a couple of sinkers and a floater to her line and cast it out into the water as far as it would go. With the release of the line, she felt the weight of her problems lift a little.

“I’m sorry, Lord. I know I whine a lot. I do thank You for the friends You’ve given me—for Sue Ellen and Leota and Dottie Jean.” And Wendell.

Wendell. For weeks now, Joe’s oldest and dearest friend had ventured in and out of the shop on a regular basis. Seemed every time Sassy turned around, he came by again—to look at the latest in custom rods, to buy magazines, knives, bait, fishing line—anything and everything to fill his tackle box. Wendell seemed anxious to learn all he could about fishing before retiring.

Not that she minded. He had always been so kind, so tolerant, finding something pleasant to say with each visit. Somehow, just the thought of him brought an unexpected smile to her lips.

Sassy felt a sudden tug on her line. “Oooh, I’ve got something.” She clasped the reel and beginning to work it in her favor, then pulled in a large catfish, a fine catch. He looked up at her with sad, woeful eyes.

“Looks like I’m not the only one having a bad day,” she observed as she pulled him loose. Tossing him into the ice chest, she turned to bait her hook once again.

***

“Wendell Meeks, have you lost your mind?”

“Course not.” Wendell leaned his elbows onto the small table at the Calista Catfish House and grinned at his best friend, Gus, who sat across from him looking stunned.

“Well, what’s gotten into you, then? There are plenty of good women here in Calista without setting your sights on an ornery old thing like Sassy Hatchett. Sassy Hatchett, of all people!” Gus erupted into laughter, causing others in the diner to turn their heads in curiosity.

Wendell lifted his glass of sweet tea and tried to look casual and confident as he took a small sip. His hand trembled, causing the cold liquid to tumble out of the glass and slosh across the bottom half of his face. He carefully dabbed at his mouth and chin with a cloth napkin. “Sassy is a great woman,” he said after a moment. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend my time with.” He folded the napkin neatly and laid it in his lap.

Dottie Jean, the diner’s owner, chose that moment to appear with two plates full of steaming crabs, fries and hushpuppies. Placing one down in front of Wendell, she added her thoughts on the matter. “You’ve got your eye on Sassy? You’re a brave soul, Wendell Meeks! She’s a real pistol, that’s for sure. ‘Course, I love her. I always have. Gotta love Sassy.” Dottie Jean’s giggles caused her to lose her grip on Gus’s plate. It hit the table with a soft thud, sending the peppershaker into a tailspin. Wendell grabbed it just as it hit the edge of the table.

“Go ahead and laugh, both of you.” He unfolded his napkin and tucked it into the collar of his starched blue postal shirt. “It won’t do you any good. I know what I’m doing.” His elbow suddenly hit the glass of tea, knocking it off-balance. He managed to catch it before too much could spill out onto the blue and white checkered tablecloth below.

“Uh huh.” Dottie Jean left the table with a “Sure you do” nod, and the most aggravating grin Wendell had ever seen on a woman’s face. He went to work, trying to mop up the mess with his napkin.

Gus continued to laugh until his cheeks turned crimson. “When was the last time you even thought about trying to snag a woman’s heart?” he asked. “Thirty years ago? Forty? And why, in the name of all that’s holy, would you start with a piece of work like Sassy Hatchett? She’s as mad as an old wet hen!”

Wendell didn’t answer for a moment. He shook his head as he continued to dab at the tablecloth. “I’m not sure you’d understand, Gus,” he explained at last.

“Try me.”

Wendell fought to formulate the words. None seemed to come. Truth be known, he hadn’t deliberately avoided married life. In fact, he’d always wished for a loving wife. But the good Lord hadn’t seen fit to give him one, at least, not yet. In the early days, asking a woman out on a date had been a nerve-wracking ordeal. His own shyness and insecurities caused him to put off the matter for years. But now, at sixty, Wendell just couldn’t seem to get the idea out of his mind. He still had a few good years left after retirement, and he didn’t want to spend them alone.

“I don’t expect you to make any sense of this, Gus,” he said quietly. “You’ve got a great wife and a houseful of kids and grandkids. But when a man gets to be my age and he’s shut up all alone in the house, he gets to wishing he had someone to share it with, that’s all. I’ll be retiring from the post office in a couple of years, and I’d like to spend them with—”

“Sassy Hatchett?” Gus shook his head in mock despair. “Everyone in town knows she’s got a bite worse than any shark in the Gulf of Mexico. Talk about a temper. Why, she could kill a man with just a look. Is that the sort of woman you want to spend your retirement years with?”

“Absolutely.” Wendell’s heart began a beat a little harder, just thinking about the possibility. “I know she has a quick tongue,” he said, his heart warming. “I sort of like that side of her. But she’s got a soft side, too. I’ve seen her in church on Sunday mornings. She really loves the Lord. She spends a lot of time up at the altar in prayer.”

“My point, exactly,” Gus said with a firm nod. “She’s repenting.”

“Come on, now.” Wendell popped a piece of crab into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

“I could understand all of this—the temper, the sharp tongue, the nasty disposition—if we were talking about a knockout here.” Gus dumped ketchup all over his hushpuppies. “But she’s no beauty queen. In fact, I’d be willing to bet she hasn’t been over to the Rhonda-Vous House of Beauty to have her hair done in years.” He gestured toward the beauty shop down the street. “And that crazy get-up she wears out on the pier wouldn’t attract much of anything but the flies.”

Wendell bit his lip to keep from responding. Sassy Hatchett had a beauty that ran far deeper than the physical, although Gus had apparently never noticed it. Her gray eyes glistened merrily when she got riled up. Lately they seemed to glisten a lot. Her skin, tanned from years in the sun, seemed firmer than that of most women her age. Her thick, curly hair glistened with a silver shimmer. Even her old, worn fishing hat with its dangling fishhooks held a certain amount of unexplainable charm.

“I don’t know how ole’ Joe Hatchett did it,” Gus rambled on. “Thirty-five years with Sassy. Gotta give a man like that a lot of credit.”

“Joe Hatchett was a good friend of mine,” Wendell said thoughtfully, “and a great man. He loved Sassy from the time he was a kid in school. Loved her till the day he died.”

“Died of a heart attack, poor guy,” Gus mumbled, his mouth full of food. “She probably gave it to him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I mean it,” he said and then swiped his mouth with the napkin. “Don’t you know the story of how Joe came to open their Bait and Tackle Shop?”

“Yeah, I know.” Wendell swallowed down a couple of French-fries, then took a long, cool drink of the tea. He had heard the tale for years. According to legend, Sassy, who had been born and raised just outside of town, had come out of the womb swinging and swearing. Her parents had given her a good Christian name—though, for the life of them, no one in Calista seemed to be able to remember it. Her own mother had taken to calling her Sassy as a little bitty thing, and the name had stuck.

As the story went, Sassy’s temper would flare up to the boiling point pretty regular-like. Her father, being a good Christian man, would hand her a fishing pole and send her out to the pier at the edge of their property for a time of good, old-fashioned repenting. Young Sassy spent many a day at the edge of the Biloxi fishing and praying, praying and fishing. As her temper grew, so did her ability to catch fish. Day after day she reeled them in.

Once Sassy and Joe Hatchett married, she spent more time than ever with a pole in her hand. After their twins, Tucker and Tilly, came along, she practically set up house on the pier. Rumor was, Joe Hatchett spent so much money on bait that he finally gave in and opened up “Sassy ‘n Joe’s Bait and Tackle” just to keep his head above water financially.

The whole thing made for a great story.

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” Wendell said, as he turned his attention back to Gus. “Besides, I think it’s nice that Sassy has a way to vent her frustrations. Fishing’s a good thing.”

“She’s pretty nearly supplied my restaurant with catfish for the last twenty years.” Dottie Jean reappeared with more napkins. “That’s quite a temper, if you ask me. ‘Course, I’m not complaining. I figure it’s true what the Bible says—”

“What’s that?” Wendell asked.

“‘What Satan meant for evil, God will use for good.’” Dottie smiled with a playful wink as she turned her attention to other customers.

Wendell shook his head in defeat.

“Just answer this one thing,” Gus said, suddenly looking serious. “Is this why you bought Dottie Jean’s boat last month? Why you’ve spent so much time fishing? To get close to Sassy?”

Wendell shrugged. “I like to fish. What can I say?”

“Right, right.” Gus nodded. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you’re looking to hook Sassy Hatchett, you’d better have a good piece of stinkbait in your back pocket. Nothing else will work on an old snapper like her.”

He burst into laughter again, this time drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the restaurant. People began to murmur amongst themselves from table to table.

“Sassy Hatchett? Wendell’s taken a liking to that persnickety old thing? Pretty fishy, if you ask me.” The story went around the room and bounced back again, reverberating in his ears.

He stood so quickly the chair nearly toppled over behind him. “Now listen here,” he announced to all curious onlookers as he snagged the chair before it tumbled, “I may be old, but I’m not deaf. You all just mind your own business now, you hear. You leave my love life to me.”

Their laughter nearly deafened him.

****

If you enjoyed this free sample, please purchase a copy of Gone Fishing today.  Thanks for reading!

 

A Week of Firsts: Mismatched in Texas

Mismatched in Texas

Welcome to Day Two of “A Weeks of Firsts,” where I’ll be sharing the first chapter(s) from several of my books. Today I’m sharing from one of my favorite historicals, Mismatched in Texas. It takes place in Poetry, Texas, a real town just east of Dallas (a quaint, lovely place). I visited Poetry before writing the story and had a blast picturing the various shops in my story. Enjoy this sample chapter!

CHAPTER ONE

Poetry, Texas, 1904

 

“Belinda, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Truly. But what in the world has possessed you? A marriage broker? Do you really think you’re…you’re…”

Belinda Bauer felt heat rising to her cheeks as she waited for her cousin to finish the question.

“Qualified?” Greta said at last, looking more than a bit dubious.

After drawing in a deep breath, Belinda dove into her rehearsed speech. “One does not have to be married in order to arrange marriages,” she explained. “These days, a good match is simply a matter of business. And science.”

“Science?” Greta did not look convinced. “What is so scientific about falling in love and getting married?”

Belinda gave a brusque nod and continued on undeterred. “In a town such as this—filled with railroad men and farmers—women are in short supply. Elsewhere, women bow their knees at night, clutch their hands together…”—here Belinda dramatically clasped her hands as if in prayer—“and plead with the Almighty for husbands.”

Greta paled. “Yes, but what does that have to do with you?”

“I will make it my job to reconcile the one with the other. With the Lord’s help, of course.” Belinda released her hands, triumphant. Surely Greta would see the good in this. And, in time, so would the others in the little town. After all, her goal to civilize the quaint town of Poetry, Texas, was a fine one. Once the women started arriving, the place would begin to blossom, possibly rivaling nearby Terrell. Or maybe—Belinda’s excitement grew as she thought about it—maybe even Dallas. Yes, once proper ladies started arriving, the area would become quite citified.

“You make it sound so…simple.” Her cousin paused to tie an apron around her broad waist, just as she did every morning before Poetic Notions, the town’s mercantile, opened. “But if finding a mate is really as easy as you say, then why, with men surrounding us on every side, do you and I remain unattached?”

Belinda swallowed hard and then chose her words with great care as she reached to straighten several jars on a nearby shelf. “I cannot speak for you, of course.” She turned to grasp her cousin’s hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “To be quite honest, I do not understand why some handsome fellow hasn’t marched in here and swept you away to a life of marital bliss. You, of all people, would make the perfect wife and mother.”

“Thank you.” Greta let out a little giggle, and her cheeks turned pink.

Belinda released a sigh as she contemplated her own situation. “But I do believe, after much prayer on the matter, that I can answer the question about myself.” She stood straight and tall, taking full advantage of her height. “I have come to the conclusion that I was born for a greater purpose.”

“Oh?” Greta’s brow wrinkled, and the color seemed to fade from her cheeks.

“Yes. And, most likely, I will never marry. To do so would only interfere with my work, my calling.” Belinda let out an exaggerated sigh for effect.

“N–never marry?” Greta looked stunned. “How can you say such a thing?” A dreamy-eyed expression took over as she continued. “Why, I can hardly wait to be a bride. I’ve been dreaming of my wedding day since childhood. All girls do.” She ran her fingertips along a bolt of delicate lace, eyeing it with a sigh, then looked up at Belinda. “Surely you have longings to marry, to have a family.”

Belinda swallowed hard and hoped her glistening eyes wouldn’t give her away. “I am a strong, independent woman.” She reached for a broom and swept the area near the front door of the shop. “Like most in Texas. My hard work has stiffened my backbone.”

“Yes, but…”

“You’ve watched me, Greta. From my youth, I have labored in the cotton gin alongside Papa and my brothers. I am no stranger to work. I have managed to help Mama with the sewing, cooking, and cleaning, all the while assisting you and Aunt Hilde here at the store.”

“Of course. You work harder than any other girl I know,” Greta agreed as she reached to wipe off the glass case housing the cash register. “No one would argue the point.” Still, she looked doubtful.

“Then don’t you see?” Belinda gave her an imploring look. “I would do well with a business of my own. I would only need a small space to set up shop.”— She glanced around the crowded store, filled with its many shelves.

“But do you really think the local men will actually pay for such a thing?” Greta’s cheeks flushed. “Purchasing brides from all over the country, like picking out pieces of farm equipment from a catalog? Is that…godly?”

Belinda smiled. “Greta, there’s one thing I have discovered in my twenty-seven years. The good Lord most often moves in unique ways. I do not claim to know the vastness of His plans, but I do promise to pray over every client He entrusts to me. I know our heavenly Father will lead me to the perfect match for each one. Besides”—she tucked a loose blond curl behind her ear—“I’ve created a formula of sorts. As I said, it all comes down to science.”

“Coupled with faith.”

“Of course.”

“And how do your parents feel about this?” Greta’s brow wrinkled again, this time in concern. “I can’t imagine that your father is happy with the idea.”

Belinda took a long strand of hair and wound it around her finger as she contemplated her response. She pictured her father—tall and broad-shouldered, his thick mustache bobbing up and down as he scolded her in his rich German accent. How would he respond to this new plan? “He will come around in time,” she said at last.

“Belinda…”

“I will tell him. I promise. And Mama will be very supportive. I know her.” Once I work up the courage to tell her, that is.

“Hmm.” Greta shook her head, as if she didn’t believe such a thing possible. “And your brothers? What do my cousins think of this bold venture of yours?”

Belinda squared her shoulders as she responded. “James is of marrying age—and the twins will be in a few years—so no doubt they will find the idea ingenious. As soon as the women begin to arrive, that is.”

“And just where are you going to find these women?” Greta asked, still not looking convinced.

Belinda glanced out of the window, distracted by a passing wagon. “Oh, everywhere. They place advertisements in all the big papers, you know. New York, Philadelphia, Kansas City, you name it. Why, our town will be filled with women from all over the country!” She turned back to Greta and offered up a confident smile. “Living this close to the railroad will be a great asset. And women are coming to Texas in droves these days. Surely you’ve read about it.”

“Yes, to places like Dallas or Houston. But, Poetry? What would draw them here—besides the promise of marriage, I mean. What do we have to offer besides chaw-chewin’ backwoodsmen and a handful of railroad ruffians over Terrell-way?”

“Greta! How dare you speak so unkindly of our little town!” Belinda’s heart swelled with pride. “Why, Poetry is growing exponentially. Just look around you. We’ve a lovely hotel. And our restaurant boasts the finest food in the state. New shops are going in every day. Why, there’s even talk of a theater. Can you imagine going to see a play or an opera, right here in our hometown?” She clasped her hands together with dramatic flair, as if she were standing before an audience of hundreds. Belinda smiled. “There’s no finer cotton farming to be had in all of Texas—no debating that point. And have you seen Samuel Bromstead’s wheat fields? They’re prettier than a painting.”

Greta stared out the window and shrugged. “I suppose.”

Belinda opted to change the subject, turning her attentions to a spot near the front of the mercantile that would be perfect for her new office. She clapped her hands in glee and then pointed. “Come and help me move those shelves. I would eventually like to bring in a small desk from the back office to put in their place.”

“And then what?”

“Then I will make a sign.” She closed her eyes and tried to picture it: Belinda Bauer, Marriage Broker. “Likely every single male in town will pay me a visit, and before you know it the train station will be filled with women. Think of all the new sisters we will soon have!”

Greta shrugged—and the look on her face wasn’t convincing—but she did agree to help Belinda move the shelf before the store opened for morning business. Together they removed cans of homemade jams and jellies then pushed the empty shelf to a spot against the far wall. Greta looked at it with a sigh before heading to the back room for a dust cloth. When she returned, they dusted the shelves and completely reloaded them. All the way, Belinda chattered about her new plan. She could hardly wait to begin.

Greta continued to shake her head, looking at the now-empty corner of the store. “Mama’s going to have a fit when she sees this.”

“No. Aunt Hilde will love the idea.” Belinda felt sure of it. After all, Aunt Hilde had run Poetic Notions for nearly a dozen years, since Uncle Max’s death. She certainly knew what it meant to be a strong, independent woman.

Greta headed off to the back of the store to organize some lanterns and Belinda continued on with her work. Some time later, she noticed a passel of customers through the front window and realized that eight o’clock must have passed right by. So much for keeping her head on straight. With a skip in her step, Belinda made her way to the front of the store to unlock the door. Once there, she pronounced the mercantile open for business.

Customers swarmed inside, as always, greeting her as they passed by. Belinda couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on George Kaufman, the town barber, as he sprinted from his barbershop across the street. His attentions appeared to be quite focused.

So were hers.

Belinda began to size him up as a potential client. Tall. Dark, wavy hair. Rich, brown eyes. Well-groomed. Late twenties. Churchgoer. Businessman. Single.

Perfect.

“Mornin’, Belinda.” He gave her a polite nod then shifted his gaze to the razor straps under the glass at the front counter.

“Morning, George.” She drew close and watched as he made his selections. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’m in need of some supplies before I can open my shop this morning. Should’ve come by yesterday afternoon, but business was heavy. Not that I’m complaining.” He flashed a smile so bright that it warmed her heart. Yes, he would surely make a fine client.

“A happy problem, indeed.” She moved to her position behind the counter to offer assistance. “Glad to hear the barbershop is doing well.”

“Thank the Lord for a town filled with men,” he said with a nod.

“Amen to that.” She fought to hide the giggle that attempted to rise.

As the store filled with customers, a steady hum of voices hovered in the air. Greta remained busy in the back of the shop, helping a couple of the local men, but Belinda’s preoccupation with George continued. She observed him from head to toe, paying careful attention to his interactions with others.

Sure, he was a little on the shy side, but a bit of nudging would change that. When he smiled, his dimples lit the room and his brown eyes sparkled with merriment. She just had to work on getting him to smile more often. Would a little girlish chitchat be inappropriate?

“Hmm.” Another glance uncovered a different problem. George’s small-town wardrobe could certainly use some updating, particularly if his wife-to-be hailed from the big city. Perhaps he would take Belinda’s fashion suggestions to heart, if she dared to make them.

“Belinda? Everything all right?”

His words took her by surprise. She looked up from her inspection of his shirt, embarrassed. “Um, yes.”

“Here in body only?” He ran a hand through his thick dark waves and gave her a quizzical look.

“No, sorry.” Belinda’s heart quickened. Was this the right time to tell George about her new business? Had the Lord opened a door? If so, would she step through it?

George paid for his supplies, and she reached over to give him his change. Her hand lingered in his a bit longer than necessary, and he looked up, confused.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” After garnering up the courage, she leaned in close and whispered, “If I were to tell you that the Lord has laid it on my heart to find you a bride, what would you say?”

“I—I…” His cheeks turned redder than the paint on Samuel Bromstead’s barn. “I would ask you to seek Him again for further explanation. I am quite happy in my current state.”

She gave him a woeful pat on the arm, her lower lip curling down in sympathy. “You poor, dear man. You are blinded by loneliness.”

“I am?” His face filled with confusion.

“Indeed. And I am just the one to bring an end to your days of solitude.”

“Days of solitude?” His roaring laughter rang out, causing other customers to turn in curiosity. “Belinda, have you lost your marbles? I’m a barber in a town filled with men. My shop is crowded from sunup till sundown with talkative cotton farmers. And I can’t keep enough shaving mugs for the railroad men who venture over from Terrell. Not to mention the fellas from the saloon. Why, I can’t get a minute to myself. Would you have me add insult to injury by factoring a wife into the mix?

Belinda let go of George’s hand right away, her pride instantly wounded. She stared into his accusing brown eyes, unable to believe his reaction to her gesture of kindness. Could he not see the goodness of her heart? And had he really rejected her help…so quickly?

With a lump rising to her throat, she wrapped the razor straps in plain brown paper and wound a string around the outside. Then, with a huff, she turned to wait on another customer, ready to put George Kaufman and his quick-fired comments out of her mind altogether.

***

George regretted the words the moment he spoke them. As he stared into Belinda’s wide eyes, now filled with pain, he wished he could withdraw his statement.

On the other hand…

What could have prompted her to say such a thing? Sure, Belinda Bauer was outspoken. Everyone in town knew it. Her temperament matched her strong, solid build. And when those blue eyes got to blazing…watch out! But to spout such ridiculous nonsense? What had he done to deserve such candor? Did he really come across as lonely?

Was he lonely?

These and a thousand other things George contemplated as he made his way back across the busy street. He entered the barber shop, the package of razor straps in hand, and set his mind on one thing—his work.

A wife would just have to wait.

 

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