Merry Farmer's Blog, page 9
April 3, 2016
Weekend Excerpt – Teacher’s Troublemaker
It’s almost here! I hope you’ve been keeping up with the Culpepper Cowboys series that Kirsten Osbourne and I have been writing! Kirsten kicked it off with Wyoming Wedding, I continued it with Rancher’s Remorse, and on Friday, Kirsten continued it with Cowboy’s Conundrum. Well, coming this Friday is book 4, Teacher’s Troublemaker. And if you’ve learned anything about Chastity Quinlan so far, it’s that she’s definitely a troublemaker. For those who haven’t already started reading the excerpt in the back of Cowboy’s Conundrum, here’s what I mean…
Chastity Quinlan was a virgin. Still.
“Ugh,” she snorted as she sat at one end of a comfy couch in Linda Culpepper’s living room, knitting needles clicking away. “I once heard this phrase while watching a British movie: gagging for a shag.” Her needles paused and she whipped to face Joy, who sat at the other end of the couch, poring through a catalog of supplies for her Barbie furniture venture. “Joy. I’m gagging for a shag. Totally gagging for it.”
“Eew. That’s gross.” Faith wrinkled her nose from where she sat across the room, snuggled in Cooper’s big, hot, masculine embrace as they watched TV.
Chastity stuck her tongue out at her sister. “Easy for you to say. You’re getting it several times a day, if what I hear is right.”
Faith tensed, her eyes going round with a ‘You heard that?’ sort of look.
“What?” Cooper blinked away from the baseball game that had him so transfixed, looking around as if he’s missed something.
Ha! Cooper wasn’t missing anything. Neither were Karlan or Kolby, Hope and Joy’s husbands, if everything that normally went on in a marriage was going on with them. They too were absorbed in the baseball game, yapping on about stats and players and stuff that Chastity didn’t give a fig about.
She scowled and focused on her knitting, needles flying as she knit a thin tube that would be a baby sock for one of Faith’s dolls. It wasn’t that she resented her sisters for their ability to get laid at a moment’s notice if they so chose. She wasn’t even mad at Chris, the youngest Culpepper brother, who she’d been flirting with for the past two weeks—like a homecoming queen with the captain of the football team at prom. She and Chris had an understanding, and they needed to get married to fulfill the terms of the Culpepper will. But she was so horny, what with all the sexual tension from her three newly-married sisters in the room, that she was going to need to sit on a towel if she wasn’t careful.
“Where is Chris anyhow?” Linda asked as she walked into the room with a platter of sandwiches. The moment she put them on the table, baseball became the second most important thing in the room as Karlan, Cooper, and Kolby leapt from their chairs to load up on lunch.
“You want turkey or roast beef, sweetie?” Cooper asked Faith over his shoulder.
Faith was more interested in staring at Cooper’s assets as he bent over the plate than answering. She finally managed, “Hmm? What? Huh? Oh, turkey.”
Cooper noticed where her eyes had landed. He grinned. He winked. He wiggled his backside. Then he popped a turkey sandwich on a plate for her, carried it back to the chair, squeezed into it with her, and planted a big, wet one on her mouth.
“Gah.” Chastity squirmed in her seat, pouring all her energy into knitting. She’d read her fair share of sexy romance novels. Maybe more than her fair share. She couldn’t help but visualize gigantic, hard-bodied males slipping and sliding on top of—and under, and beside, and around—soft, nubile, female ones. As long as she fuzzed out the faces so that she wasn’t gawping at her sisters and brothers-in-law in her sexed-up imagination, she’d be good. But, dangit, if she didn’t get a little of that deep-tongue, hard-body action from Chris soon, she might go insane.
“Good Lord, Chastity, what on earth are you making?”
Linda’s snappy question and the laugh that followed yanked Chastity out of her thoughts. She glanced down at the baby sock.
Only, it didn’t look much like a baby sock anymore. It’s started out that way, but after rows and rows of frantic, heated, energy-expending knitting, what she had in her hands was an eight-inch tube with a rounded end, flopping down from her fisted hands.
“Oh my gosh, Chastity, did you just knit a penis?” Hope laughed as she picked up a roast beef sandwich from the plate on the coffee table.
Chastity’s mouth dropped open. “Holy crap! I’ve just had the best idea ever.”
“Good grief,” Joy muttered, sending Kolby a knowing look as he handed her a plate with a sandwich. “Don’t tell me it’s a penis idea.”
“Johnson jammies!” Chastity held up her knitted tube. “Perfect for keeping the little guy warm and cozy on a cold winter’s night.”
Her announcement was met by uncomfortable silence and awkward glances from the guys. Faith winced, Hope choked and looked away, and Joy just shook her head.
“Uh, I don’t think keeping it warm is a problem,” Karlan muttered.
“Yeah,” Kolby added slowly. “And you might want to make an opening at the end in case of, uh, nighttime emergencies.”
Cooper snorted and choked around a bite of sandwich.
“Easy to do.” Chastity turned her knitting around, studying it from different angles. “Very easy to do.”
To do. As in doing. As in being done.
Damn, she wanted Chris to do her bad right then.
“Where is Chris anyhow?” she burst out.
“I’m in here.” Chris’s muffled voice came from the laundry room at the end of the hall.
Thank the good Lord above!
Just a few more days, and Teacher’s Troublemaker will be here! Kirsten and I have been having a blast with this series, and we know we’re going to continue it for at least four more books. However, instead of releasing them every other week, starting with book five, Baker’s Bargain, they’ll be out every three weeks. But this means we’ll be able to bring you books in other series you love, like The Brides of Paradise Ranch. His Tempting Bride/Miriam: The Tempting Bride should be out around April 25th!
March 31, 2016
$3,000 Big Romance Author Spring Giveaway!
Big Romance Author $3,000 Spring Giveaway April 1-30th, 2016.
Attention all awesome people! This month is a cool time to be a reader. 101 of your favorite authors contributed to one massive giveaway! Giveaway rules are listed on the rafflecopter. International peeps can play! Got any questions? Feel free to ask. There are 100 ways to enter for a maximum possible 500+ entries per person. The giveaway lasts the entire month of April, so come back every day and hammer away at a few more entries until you’re all done!
ONE PERSON WILL WIN $3,000 USD! That’s the biggest giveaway I’ve seen recently! Tell your buds! Don’t miss out. You’ll kick yourself if you miss this one.
Terms & conditions are listed on the rafflecopter. Read it for full details. The winner will be chosen on May 1, 2016 and contacted via the email address they used to enter. CHECK YOUR EMAIL! The winner’s name will also be posted on the rafflecopter widget above.
Participating Romance Authors:
101 different authors came together to make this giveaway possible. If you’ve been looking for a new book boyfriend, or you’re literally famished between your fave author’s releases, check out some of my peeps! They write in various hot romance genres including contemporary romance, new adult romance, erotic romance, steamy romance, urban fantasy romance, dystopian romance, historical romance, futuristic/ sci-fi/ fantasy romance, Teen/ YA romance, inspirational romance and time travel romance!
Big Romance Author $3,000 Spring Giveaway April 1-30th, 2016
H.M. Ward
Kim Golden
Drew Jordan
Christi Caldwell
Scarlett Metal
Chris Almeida & Cecilia Aubrey
Heidi McLaughlin
Jenny Gardiner
Stacey Joy Netzel
Merry Farmer
Mallory Crowe
Julia Kent
Jean Oram
Vella Day
Meli Raine
Sherri Hayes
Jayne Rylon
Sarah M. Cradit
Erica Ridley
Christine Zolendz
Beverly Preston
Marquita Valentine
Melissa Storm
Dana Marton
Amy Bartol
Michelle Fox
Magan Vernon
Ainsley Booth
Venessa Kimball
Sidney Bristol
K.M. Scott
C.C.Wood
J.M. Miller
Zara Keane
Eliza Knight
L.P. Dover
Sadie Haller
Patricia McLinn
Suzanne Rock
Katherine Lowry Logan
Erin Richards
Tori Scott
Danielle Stewart
P.T. Michelle
Suzan Tisdale
T.M. Franklin
Evelyn Adams
S.E. Hall
Lauren Hawkeye
Josie Bordeaux
Melanie Marchande
Raci Ames
Catherine Gayle
Sam Cheever
J.M Cole
Brooke Blaine
Ella Frank
Allison Bell
Cristin Harber
Jacki Delecki
Tawdra Kandle
Sydney Logan
Laura Kaye
Laura Kamoie
Evie Harper
P.J. Fiala
Taylor Law
Pamela DuMond
D.L. Roan
Jenni Moen
LG Castillo
Rachel Schurig
Nina Levine
Rachel Hanna
Cheryl Bradshaw
Jessica Scott
Beth Yarnall
J.T. Geissinger
Stacey Mosteller
Kylie Gilmore
Maryann Jordan
Cari Quinn
Lauren Royal
Renea Mason
Christine Bell
Felicia Tatum
Fabio Bueno
RaShelle Workman
Nana Malone
Annika Martin
Sophia Knightly
Nikki Lynn Barrett
Marian Tee
Sarah Castille
Allyn Lesley
Ambrielle Kirk
Jami Davenport
Bonnie R. Paulson
Laura Stapleton
Kennedy Layne
March 26, 2016
Weekend Excerpt – Rancher’s Remorse
So if you haven’t heard the news already, my latest release, Rancher’s Remorse, is here! I’m so excited about this fun, fun project! Kirsten Osbourne and I are writing this contemporary romantic comedy series, The Culpepper Cowboys, together. She kicked things off with the first book, Wyoming Wedding, last week, and yesterday, book two, Rancher’s Remorse hit shelves. The books are exclusively at Amazon for now, but will be available elsewhere in a few months! Ready to get started? Here’s a big from Chapter One…
Faith Quinlan sat back in the overstuffed sofa in Linda Culpepper’s house, wedged between her sisters, Hope and Joy, heart quivering with fear. It wasn’t the sudden move from Kentucky to Wyoming that bothered her. It wasn’t even the unusual reason she and her sisters had come. The Culpepper boys were handsome, and seemed sweet and well-mannered. All four of them had joined the sisters for a quick bite to eat at their mother Linda’s house shortly after the girls arrived, and had been on their best behavior. They knew how to treat a woman—probably because Linda raised them well. Faith was on board with the idea of marrying one of them to help fulfill the terms of the Culpepper grandfather’s will, as the contract she’d signed with Dr. Lachele dictated. That wasn’t what had her muscles tight with anxiety and her heart thumping away in her throat.
No, what gnawed at Faith and kept her silent as the rest of her sisters chatted happily with Linda and her sons was the fact that Faith had secrets. Not just one, several. Secrets that she hadn’t mentioned to Dr. Lachele during the interview that led to her promise to marry one of the Culpepper brothers. Secrets that not even her parents knew about. Secrets that would probably be deal-breakers if the Culpeppers ever found out about them.
Faith was terrible about secrets. They made her palms sweat and her heart race. She sat there on the sofa, hands clasped in front of her, wishing she could disappear into the plush.
“Faith, are you sure you’re all right?” Linda asked through the volley of conversations buzzing in the living room. “Can I get you some sweet tea?”
Faith opened her mouth to say she was fine, but her dry throat couldn’t manage anything more than a raspy squeak. She swallowed, cleared her throat, then said, “Yes, ma’am. Sweet tea would be lovely.”
Linda stood, smiling. She headed into the kitchen, returning less than thirty seconds later with a tall glass of tea. Faith gulped it down. Her throat and taste buds thanked her, but her heart still twisted in her chest. The twisting grew worse when she realized she was being watched.
Across the living room, Cooper Culpepper sat with his back straight in one of the room’s recliners. His thick, brown hair was cut short, and a day’s growth of beard covered his strong jaw. He had kind eyes—eyes that watched her even though she wasn’t taking part in the flurry of conversation.
“So you have six horses?” Joy asked at Faith’s side.
“Eight,” Cooper corrected her, though his eyes stayed focused on Faith. “We occasionally board horses for folks who need it too.”
“And once or twice we’ve hosted a rescue horse,” Chris, the youngest Culpepper, added.
“Not that you’d know much about that,” Kolby said, then elbowed Chris in the ribs.
Chris frowned. In the chair next to him, Chastity bit her lip. Being the youngest, Chastity had set her sights on Chris right from the start. She liked things to line up in order, just like the rows of her knitting. By those rules, Hope, who was the oldest by three minutes, should end up with Karlan—which it looked likely, if what Karlan had announced earlier about he and Hope marrying that day actually happened—and Cooper, the second youngest, would be Faith’s.
Cooper Culpepper. He was a hunk and a half. A total dream.
He would kick her to the curb so fast if he knew the kinds of secrets she was keeping.
“Do you want to take a walk out to the stables?” Cooper’s question was meant exclusively for Faith, in spite of the fact that Joy had been the one to ask him about the horses.
“That sounds like a great idea,” Joy answered, nudging Faith. “You two head down to the stables. Meanwhile, Kolby, I’d love to see your house.”
“And I’d love to show it to you.” Kolby stood with a grin as wide as the Wyoming sky and stepped over to the sofa to give Joy a hand up.
The rest of the boys stood as well. All of them were tall with broad shoulders and larger-than-life personalities, and in an instant it felt as though Linda’s cozy living room was too small and tight. Or maybe that was just the weight of Faith’s guilt pressing down on her. As Hope got up on her other side, Faith took another long drink of her tea to hide her hesitation.
She couldn’t really go through with this, could she? Wasn’t it, like, false advertising or something to agree to the deal that Dr. Lachele had presented them when she knew full well she couldn’t live up to her end of the bargain? The Culpepper boys needed one of their wives to be pregnant within a year in order for them to inherit the ranch. Dr. Lachele had been specific about those expectations. Faith had said in writing that she was willing to have a baby right away.
Well, that much wasn’t a lie. She was more than willing. The problem was that she wasn’t able.
“If you’re finished with that, I can take it.” Cooper’s deep, serious voice snapped her out of her miserable thoughts. Faith glanced up slowly, as if he was the principal and she’d been sent to his office as punishment for being naughty. Heck, looking up at his broad chest, kissable lips, and beautiful, dark eyes, she wanted to do something naughty. Much good though it would do her.
“I can take it.” Linda swooped in and took Faith’s glass with a wink. “You two go for a walk.” With a happy sigh she added, “It does my heart good to see my boys with such sweet, honest girls.”
She could have kicked Faith in the gut and it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But it would do no good to keep dwelling on it when there was so much more at stake than her own happiness. Part of the Culpepper will stated that all four of the boys needed to be married within six months. Her sisters were overjoyed to finally get away from Kentucky and their reputation as the Quinlan Quads, and to start independent lives. She was a vital piece in that puzzle, in everyone’s happiness.
Forcing a smile, Faith took Cooper’s offered hand—it was a big, warm hand that encompassed hers, as if he would shelter and protect her forever—and stood.
“Thanks. Sorry if I’m a little out of it. I think it must be jetlag.” It was a lame excuse, but Cooper didn’t seem to mind.
“I hate traveling myself.” He kept Faith’s hand in his as he escorted her through the living room and out to the back porch. “I have to go for business now and then—to farm shows and the like. I’d just as soon stay home and keep the ranch running. Especially with this nonsense Travis is throwing at us.”
Faith knew only the bare minimum about the Culpepper cousin, Travis, who was twisting the brothers’ arms to get them to buy out his portion of the ranch, so she settled for saying, “That’s very responsible of you.” Her smile softened to something genuine. She liked a man who took his responsibilities seriously. Men like that were steady, dependable.
At the far end of the back porch, Chris and Chastity broke into twin giggles over something or another. Faith’s shoulders loosened a little more. Knowing Chastity, they were probably snickering over some off-color joke. Chastity was the wild one of their bunch—totally boy crazy—but somehow she’d managed to stay out of trouble. Faith admired the easy way her sister approached life.
“You seem a little distracted,” Cooper observed as they stepped down from the porch and headed across the tidy back lawn toward the stable. “I mean, beyond just jetlag.”
Did he know? Had he figured something out just by looking at her? No, you couldn’t tell what someone’s reproductive capabilities were just by looking at them. But maybe he could sense the other things, guess her other secret? Was her shirt too expensive? Did he know how much she’d paid for her boots?
Pull it together, Faith. Deep breaths. She shook her head, laughing as carefully as she could. “Moving halfway across the country to commit to marrying someone, sight unseen, is a bit distracting.”
Cooper grinned. “Yeah, I’m surprised Dr. Lachele found anyone foolish…I mean, brave enough to marry the four of us.” He winked.
Faith smiled. Cooper was easy to talk to, she’d give him that much. Heck, she’d give him much more.
“Trust me, marrying you is so much better than the alternative.” Heat infused her face as she realized what she’d said. “I mean…Oh, shucks. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Forget her secrets. If she kept on like this, Cooper wouldn’t want to marry her because she was a total ninny.
March 15, 2016
PANIC! And Ways To Get Around It
This is the only acceptable kind of panic!
image courtesy of BluEyedA73 via flickr creative commons
I’m going to be brutally honest with you. There is one thing that I can’t stand in life, the universe, and everything. And that thing is panic. Whether it’s people panicking about the fate of our country in this current election year, panicking because there’s a spider in the sink, or panicking because Amazon has changed the way they do this, that, or the other thing, panic for panic’s sake is like nails on a chalkboard to me.
Now, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be concerned about elections, spiders, or Amazon. All three of those things are decidedly concerning (some more so than others). And I’m not saying that actions shouldn’t be taken to avert disaster. By all means, ACT. But do it with a level head. Go out and vote for the candidate you think will steer your country in the right direction (and not just in presidential elections—state and local elections are actually FAR more important than national ones, but that’s a topic for another day). Get a newspaper and swat that spider—or gently move it to a place where it won’t harm you.
And as for Amazon? Wait, watch, and plan accordingly. But by all means, don’t get your blood pressure up as you scream, tear your hair out, and wail that we’re all doomed. DOOMED!
Okay. To anyone who just asked “What is this Amazon thing we’re panicking about?” Congratulations, you’re a normal person and not a writer. But if you are a writer, chances are you’re tempted to go into high panic mode right now.
Amazon has two things going on that have people ready to shift into panic. First, they’re cracking down on eBooks that either don’t have a Table of Contents or that have one at the back of the book. Many authors do put their TOC at the back of the book, both because one of the formatting programs out there does that automatically and because moving the TOC to the back gives you more content up front for readers who click on the “Look Inside” option on the Amazon homepage while searching for books.
But the reason why The ‘Zon is cracking down is because there are scammers out there who are raking in the dough through the Kindle Unlimited program by throwing up (and I do mean that in both senses of the word) trash books of hack work or plagiarized content—hundreds and hundreds of pages of it per “book”—and including links at the front of the book, sending readers straight to the last page so that they collect literally tens of thousands of dollars in false page reads.
This is bad. Amazon is trying to combat it (in spite of what nay-sayers assume about The ‘Zon not really caring. I think they care, but this is an enormous problem, and I don’t think they have the manpower, or enough magic wands, to tackle it and make it go away INSTANTLY, like we serious authors would like).
Non-panicked solution: Fix the TOC in your books. It took me less than a minute to fix the one they sent me a notice about. You lose space for that “Look Inside,” but you gain…well, not having Amazon send you nastygrams.
The other thing that has people in a panicky tizzy over at Amazon is their efforts to investigate the possibility of selling used eBooks. (Note the key words in that phrase: Their efforts to investigate the possibility—it’s nowhere near being a sure thing, as a certain newsletter would have you believe) That is exactly what it sounds like. A reader buys an eBook. They read it. They resell it on some Amazon-operated market. I used to do that all the time with paperbacks at my local used book store.
Authors are panicked because this would seriously cut into their profits. It totally would. IF readers actually jump on the bandwagon and list their books for resale once they’re purchased. IF Amazon is able to get all of the permissions they need and get past the new copyright laws which are being debated this year. IF it becomes something that makes sense for readers to do. There are a lot of ifs involved in this whole used eBook equation. And as far as I know, Amazon is still just looking into it. I also read somewhere that it would only be books in the KU program. Not sure about that.
So what do we do, panic??? Do we panic now???
NO!
Non-panicked solution: Avoid KU. Distribute your books as wide as possible. Put effort into marketing to iBooks and Kobo. Um, I’d say Nook too, but I think Nook is about to go under. For real this time.
Sub-solution: Authors, stop giving away Kindles as giveaway prizes! This is not rocket science. The reason Amazon sells so many eBooks is because they deliberately and calculatedly got as many Kindles into the hands of as many readers as possible. Amazon sells Kindles WAY below the cost of production, specifically so that they can control the eBook market because more readers have their devices than have iPads or Kobo readers. We can market to iBooks and Kobo until we’re blue in the face and have spent a zillion dollars, but if readers only own Kindles, we’re SOL.
image courtesy of Sean MacEntee via flickr creative commons
The inherent problem in this is that Kindles sell for as low as $49, while the cheapest iPad I was able to find was $269. Yikes! Makes it sort of hard to go giving those puppies away, right?
Actually, I don’t have a solution for that. It is what it is. It sucks.
Sub-solution #2: Produce paperbacks of your books that are formatted in such a way that you can sell them for competitive prices. The reason indie authors do so well in digital format is because we can undersell NY Publishers by a lot. Well, NY pubbed paperbacks are costing about $7 or $8 these days. Produce paperbacks that can sell for less and market those to your readers, and you might stand a chance.
In fact, I’d love to see more indie authors invest in paperbacks (and audio, but that’s super expensive) and do a big push to get people to buy paper. But it has to be cost effective for the reader.
At the end of the day, everything Amazon is doing makes life easier and books cheaper for readers. THAT’s why they’re so successful. They will continue to do that until…well, they’ll just continue to do that. We as indie authors have to face that fact, scale back the panic, and start thinking about ways we can keep our heads above water, avoid the thumbscrews Amazon is putting to us, and give our readers the best, cheapest reading experience possible. BUT, Amazon is an inevitability in this publishing game. We HAVE to deal with them, and since we have zero control over what they do—and I mean zero—we need to learn to adapt instead of balk every time they change a policy.
So to summarize: Don’t panic. Separate fact from hearsay. Seek to understand changes when they are made, and adapt your publishing and marketing strategy to best harmonize with those changes. Seek to understand the market you’re writing for, their needs and their habits. And don’t put all your eggs in one basket.
March 13, 2016
Weekend Excerpt + Release! His Heartbroken Bride
Tomorrow is the day! It’s the day that His Heartbroken Bride (spicy version)/Libby: The Heartbroken Bride (sweet version) releases! It will be on sale for 99 cents for a very limited time. But I’ll tell you a little secret… *whispers* It’s actually live on most platforms now! Here’s a little snippet to get you warmed up.
From the moment the train pulled into Haskell’s station, the hair on the back of Mason’s neck had been standing up. It didn’t matter how much he rubbed his neck and shoulders or paced the narrow confines of the platform, the itching sensation wouldn’t go away.
“They wrote from Hurst Home to tell me she’s pretty,” Cody went on, jumpy enough on his own to challenge a jackrabbit. “Mrs. Breashears’s letter says she has long blonde hair and pretty eyes, and that she used to be an actress.”
“Yes,” Wendy, Mason and Cody’s sister-in-law, agreed with a reserved arch of her brow. “Miriam is certainly beautiful and dramatic.”
Cody’s grin slipped a bit as he glanced to Wendy. About six weeks ago, Wendy had come to Haskell to marry Cody, but the moment Cody saw she was black, he rejected her out of hand. It was a good thing their brother Travis had been there to offer for Wendy’s hand. As far as Mason was concerned, it didn’t matter what Wendy looked like, she was one of the most elegant and sensible women he’d ever met. She had a calming way about her, although right now, even Wendy’s grace couldn’t dampen the prickles racing up and down Mason’s spine.
Mason kept his mouth shut. He turned to watch passengers disembarking from the train once it had reached a full stop. He crossed his arms, but ended up tapping his foot, his restlessness was so bad. And he didn’t have a clue what was causing it.
“Do you see them yet?” Off to the side, Josephine Evans stood with her husband Pete.
“Nope,” Pete answered. He wore an expectant smile over his usual steadiness.
Maybe that’s what had Mason so uneasy. Josephine always came to meet the mail-order brides getting off the train, but not Pete. Virginia Piedmont had come along today as part of the welcome crew too, but she stood chatting with Travis instead of straining to get a look at the train with Josephine. Josephine and Virginia were usually thick as thieves when new brides came to town, rushing forward to introduce themselves and make the young ladies feel welcomed, but they weren’t even standing together today. Mason didn’t know anything about how women interacted with each other, but—
His thoughts stopped short and his heart dropped like a rock into his stomach as two small boys leapt down from the train car and scrambled across the platform to Josephine and Pete, hollering, “Grandma, Grandpa.” There were only two boys who would do that. A moment later, Libby Sims stepped down as well. And Lord help them all, she was dressed head to toe in black.
“Oh, Libby,” he whispered, heart breaking for her. It had been years since he had seen her, and to see her like this hurt. There was only one reason a woman dressed all in black. Something must have happened to Teddy. His restless itching collapsed into gut-deep sorrow.
“Oh, no,” Travis echoed his thoughts somewhere behind Mason. He saw the widow’s weeds too.
Mason was already moving forward by the time Libby took two steps across the platform, his heart aching for her as it thumped against his ribs. “Libby? Libby Sims?”
She heard him, stiffened, and looked around. Their eyes met. Her beautiful hazel eyes that had been so quick to shine with laughter all those years ago were glassy with grief and fear now.
Yes, fear.
“Mason?” She choked on his name, then burst into tears.
Without knowing what was going on or if anything was being done about it, Mason wanted to fly to her, wrap her in his arms, and crush whoever had brought such misery on her shoulders. He picked up his pace as he strode to her, but held back at the last minute. Not for the first time, he gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Libby was someone else’s wife.
Someone else’s widow.
“Libby, darling, whatever is the matter?” Josephine was a shade faster than Mason. She surged forward, throwing out her arms so that Libby could sag against her. “Oh, my dear, sweet girl. I’m so sorry. It’s all right now, you’re all right.”
Libby let out a long sob, then seemed to pull on some inner strength to stand straight and wipe away the tears that had fallen on her cheeks. “I’m all right,” she gasped, wet eyelashes fluttering. “I’m all right. I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”
“And we’re here for you,” Josephine said, hugging her tighter.
“All aboard,” the conductor called from the stairs leading up to the train car that Libby and her boys had climbed down from. The train let out a sharp whistle, and steam puffed around the engine.
“Hold on a second.” Cody hollered, jogging up to the side of the train.
Mason ignored him. Whatever his brother’s problem was, Libby needed him more right then.
Surprisingly enough, in spite of her tears, Libby didn’t ignore Cody. She turned to him right as Cody was calling out to the moving train, “Where’s my bride? I was promised a bride.”
“Sorry, son,” the conductor called back as the train picked up speed.
Cody chased it for a few feet before the pile of luggage that Athos Strong had unloaded from the baggage car got in his way.
“One moment.” Libby held up a finger to Josephine, slipping out of the comfort of her arms.
She fluttered a quick glance up to Mason. The prickles down Mason’s back returned fourfold, but with them, his heart spun in circles. Libby turned away and marched after Cody, hands clasped in front of her.
“Cody,” she began so softly that Mason was certain whatever she was going to say would be bad, bad news. “I’m afraid she’s not coming.”
Cody twisted away from the baggage and the departing train. He’d already shoved one hand into his hair, and as he turned around to face Libby, mouth hanging open in shock, he let his arm drop. “What?”
Libby shifted her weight from one hip to the other, glanced down, then dragged her eyes up to meet Cody’s. “Miriam Long. Your bride. She’s…she’s not coming.”
“But she was supposed to be on that train. She sent a letter saying she would be and everything.”
Mason inched to the side so that he could watch Libby’s face during the exchange as well as his brother’s. For someone who had just burst into tears, she seemed so self-assured now.
“I spoke to Miriam on the train,” she said. “We talked about…things.” For just a moment, Libby glanced down, pink glowing on her face. “She told me that she was having second thoughts, that she didn’t think she could marry a man she’d never met after all.”
“But…but you know me. We go way back,” Cody insisted. “Couldn’t you have told her I was a good man?”
“I did.” Libby nodded, then did her best to smile at Cody.
Mason’s breath caught in his lungs. So much misery of her own, and here Libby was trying to comfort his brother—who probably deserved a little of his own medicine after what he’d done to Wendy. Mason’s estimation of Libby rose even higher than the heights it already occupied.
“I’m sorry.” Libby reached out and touched Cody’s arm. “But believe me. It’s better to be sure about something like marriage so that you don’t come to regret it later.”
She twisted her head ever so slightly to the side, lowered it and her eyes just a little. A few more inches, and she’d be looking right at him. Mason’s heart skipped a beat. Was she trying to tell him something?
Ready to learn more about Mason and Libby’s shared past? Want to know what the terrible burden she’s carrying is? Interested to see if they get together? You’re in luck! You can download His Heartbroken Bride (spicy version) at Amazon right here, and at iBooks right here. (Coming soon for Nook and Kobo). And you can download Libby: The Heartbroken Bride exclusively at Amazon and KU right here. Only 99 cents for a very limited time!
March 5, 2016
Weekend Excerpt – His Heartbroken Bride/Libby: The Heartbroken Bride
It may seem like I’ve been quiet for the last month, but I’ve been working hard. Yep, working hard, which means that the next book in The Brides of Paradise Ranch series will be coming before you know it! His Heartbroken Bride (spicy)/Libby: The Heartbroken Bride (sweet) should arrive on Monday, March 14th, if all goes well. But here’s a sneak peek of what’s in store for poor Libby and Mason Montrose…
Libby managed a shy smile. “I’ve been living in a logging camp with my husband for the past ten years.” She glanced down to her black-gloved hands, now folded against the black of her skirt. Understanding showed clearly in Miriam’s eyes. “There are few enough women in the West to begin with, but in the logging camp, there were only a half dozen of us. I’ve been surrounded by men for years.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Miriam reached across the aisle again to pat Libby’s folded hands. She paused for a moment, then broke into an anxious smile. “Actually, that’s why I’m traveling west myself.”
Libby furrowed her brow and glanced up at Miriam, puzzled.
Miriam let out a nervous laugh. “I’m here as a mail-order bride.” Pink splashed her cheeks, and she darted a glance around as if someone might disapprove of her statement.
“I hear there is quite a call for women to come west as brides,” Libby said to keep the conversation going. It was a relief to talk about something besides her own problems.
“Yes, well.” Miriam bit her lip, drew her hand back to pick anxiously at an imaginary spot on her skirt. “That’s just the thing. The place where I have been living for the past few months has an arrangement with a town in Wyoming. I know several girls who have come out this way, married a man, and been perfectly happy. But…but I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?” This time, Libby reached for her hand to comfort her.
Miriam let out a breath and smiled as if relieved to have someone to talk to. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a wife. I mean, how can someone rush off and marry a man that they don’t even know? He could be a horse thief. He could be cruel. He could be anything.”
In spite of herself, Libby grinned. “I had those exact same worries when I met Teddy.”
“Teddy?”
“My…late husband.” It was painful to think those words, let alone say them. She forced herself to take a breath and go on. “I had just traveled west along the Oregon Trail with my family. My brothers and sister and I were orphaned, you see, and were part of a group of children looking for homes. But along the way, we befriended an older couple, and at trail’s end, they adopted us.”
She paused, sat straighter, and said, “Well, they adopted my brothers and sister. I was eighteen at the time, and when we reached Oregon City, I met Teddy.”
“How romantic.” Miriam sighed, her sparkling eyes gazing off into the distance. “To find true love at the end of the trail.”
“I didn’t know if it would be true love or not,” Libby explained. “Teddy and I got along well as soon as we met. But within weeks, my family had made the decision to move, along with friends, to Wyoming. When he heard I would leave, Teddy proposed. We’d only known each other a little more than two weeks, but I had to make a decision—marry him or go with my family and leave him, possibly forever.”
“And you chose to marry him. Now that is romantic.”
Libby laughed, filled with warmth at the memory. “It was exciting, that much is true. We were married immediately, then traveled away from Oregon City and closer to the logging camp.”
She paused, frowning over the part of the story that had troubled her for the past ten years.
“Teddy and I hadn’t been married for more than a month when he had to leave me in a small town called Skinum for the summer.”
“What a dreadful name.” Miriam made a face.
“It wasn’t entirely bad.” Libby glanced down at her hands once more, face heating with almost-forgotten shame. “There was a very nice family there that I became friends with. They took care of me while Teddy was gone. The father owned a logging operation and was gone a lot. They had a daughter, Annabelle, and three sons.” Her cheeks flared even hotter.
Miriam studied her, then gasped. “And you fell in love with one of the sons, didn’t you.” Her expression was so dramatic and she clapped her hand to her chest with such energy that Libby wondered if she’d ever been on the stage.
“No, no, not exactly.” She couldn’t meet Miriam’s eyes.
“Of course you did. And right after marrying too.” Miriam let out a long sigh. “What a beautiful tragic tale. Finding true love as soon as you marry someone else.”
“It wasn’t like that at all,” Libby assured her. “It was just…” She frowned, twisting her fingers together. At last, she looked up and met Miriam’s eyes. “It’s just that for a few weeks that summer, I wondered what my life would have been like if I’d made a different choice.”
“Ah. See.” Miriam nodded. “That’s exactly my problem now.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. Do I go through with this marriage to a man I don’t know or do I wait until love finds me?”
Libby was so grateful to talk about someone other than herself and her old regrets and new trials that she encouraged her new friend with an enthusiastic, “What does your heart tell you?”
Miriam struck a long-suffering pose, pressing her hand to her forehead. Yes, Libby decided, she most definitely had been on the stage at some point.
“I wish to be happy, that is all,” Miriam declared. “I wish to live a humble, quiet life with a man that I can truly adore.”
Somehow Libby doubted a woman of Miriam’s exuberance could ever live a quiet life.
“Do you think that you could grow to love this man you’re supposed to marry?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Miriam’s dramatic act dropped, and she chewed her lip in indecision. “I want to grow to love him, but what if we marry and I find someone else who I could love even more the next day?”
Libby winced at the question. Long-dormant voices in her heart whispered that she should have asked herself that same question long ago.
And yet, if she hadn’t married Teddy so quickly, she never would have met…
No, she couldn’t think that way. It was too dangerous. Because if she’d never met Teddy, she never would have had her boys. Peter and Matthew were her life now, the only life she had.
Although that wasn’t entirely true. She clasped a hand to her belly, fear welling up in her like a geyser.
“Libby, are you quite well? You’ve gone pale.” Miriam reached out to touch her knee.
“I’m…I’m fine,” Libby lied. She hadn’t been fine since the day Teddy fell to his death.
No, that was a lie too. She’d been on her way to being fine until that terrible night a month later when Hector came to visit.
Mark your calendars! His Heartbroken Bride/Libby: The Heartbroken Bride will be here March 14th!
February 27, 2016
Weekend Excerpt – Howard Haskell Takes A Bride
It’s the weekend, and I’m slowly getting back into the swing of maintaining my blog after an…interesting month. So here’s a little snippet of an upcoming release for you! Howard Haskell Takes A Bride is a juicy prequel to the second half of the Hot on the Trail series and The Brides of Paradise Ranch series. Ever wonder how the eccentric Howard Haskell met and married Elizabeth? Well, here’s your answer. This short novella will only be available in the Love’s Prelude box set, coming April 26th. You can preorder it now! Here’s a peek…
Elizabeth let her mind drift as Madeline went on with the story. She didn’t care what the snotty Miss Gertrude Havers had done to flirt with an unsuitable gentleman. She didn’t care about gossip and innuendo. Her heart ached in her chest, as if it was being called by some unseen force that she could feel but not hear. The western horizon was dark, but the darkness, the unknown was filled with excitement. The story of the West had only just begun to be written. Handfuls of settlers and trappers had made the perilous journey to places with strange names like Oregon and California. They’d brought back stories of rich land and opportunity for those willing to risk all to take it.
Elizabeth was not a risk-taker. She knew that, just as she knew Gertrude Havers was a fool to accept a love note from a man her parents didn’t approve of. But all the same, she longed for something different, something grander, something…more.
“Why, she must be daydreaming of him now.”
It took several more seconds for Elizabeth to catch that her friends had stopped gossiping and were now staring at her. With a start, she dragged her gaze away from the window.
“What?” She patted her coal-black hair, wondering if a piece of the elaborate style she’d had her family’s black maid, Trudy, fix for her was coming loose.
Elizabeth’s three friends exchanged knowing looks and coy smiles.
“See, I told you. Luckiest girl in Cincinnati,” Henrietta said.
“Or rather, Jonas Armstrong is the luckiest man,” Isobel added.
Ice ran down Elizabeth’s spine. “Yes. My parents are very happy with the match.” She glanced down, hoping to hide how unhappy she was.
“Jonas Armstrong is the handsomest, most enterprising young man in Cincinnati.” Madeline congratulated her. “He’s going to be as rich as Croesus before he’s thirty years old, if his father’s business empire continues the way it has been.”
“And we’ll be able to say that we’re best friends with his wife,” Isobel laughed.
Elizabeth tried to smile. She tried to encourage herself to feel something for her fiancé, to be grateful for the position she was about to take in society. The best she could manage was mild interest, but it didn’t outweigh the mountain of resentment at being handed off to a man she’d hardly had time to get to know as a pawn in her father’s business dealings.
“You can do more than simply call yourself a friend to the wife of the richest man in Cincinnati,” Elizabeth said. “You can rescue her from the drudgery of filling that position.” Indeed, she would need her friends around her once her life was shackled to the rock of responsibility.
Her friends laughed. “You sound as if you’re going to the gallows instead of to a bed of satin.” Madeline cuffed her on the arm.
“I would give anything to be in your shoes,” Henrietta sighed.
“Would you?” Bold as brass, Elizabeth slipped out of her dancing slippers and pushed them across the floor to her friend. “Here you go.”
More tinkling laughter sounded from her friends, but all Elizabeth could think was how good it felt to wiggle her toes.
Before she could retrieve her shoes, prickles shot up the back of Elizabeth’s neck. She glanced up, subtly searching the crowded room to discover the source of the prickles. Someone was watching her. The light and color and sound of the ball was a raging distraction, but that didn’t stop the feeling. Her heart beat faster, as if fate was tapping her shoulder.
And then she saw him. Half a room away, standing in the frame of one of the French doors leading to the balcony, stood the most striking man Elizabeth had ever seen. He was tall, inches above the whispering couple that stood beside him. His shoulders were broad and his brown hair perfectly coifed. Most arresting of all was his smile. It was broad, bold, absolutely sure of itself. His smile reached his eyes, illuminating them across the distance. If she hadn’t known any better, Elizabeth would have thought that he was the mayor—no, the president, the king, the emperor. Her heart fluttered up to her throat, and she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. The regal young man—master of all he surveyed—was smiling at her.
“Who is he?” Isobel asked what her heart was crying out.
Henrietta and Madeline turned to look as well.
Madeline hummed and tsked. “I think that’s Mr. Howard Haskell.”
“Who?” Henrietta wrinkled her nose.
Howard Haskell. Elizabeth repeated the name in her mind and heart. Something about it sizzled. Or perhaps that was his smile. He looked at her as though she was a rival to the sunrise. No one had ever looked at her with such longing, such appreciation before. Her heart beat double-time.
“Do we know him?” Isobel asked.
“No, and from what I understand, we don’t want to.” Madeline tilted up her nose.
“Why not?” Henrietta asked.
Madeline sniffed. “He’s an upstart nobody from who knows where. My papa says that he’s been nosing around Commerce Street for months now.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?” Isobel made a face.
“Maybe he’s in business?” Henrietta offered.
“More likely he’s looking for a job or trying to get involved in some scheme or another,” Madeline said.
“He could be a businessman himself,” Elizabeth offered. Yes, with a proud smile and confidence like that, she had no doubt he was an entrepreneur of some sort.
Madeline sniffed. “Him? Not likely. Everything I’ve heard suggests he’s loud, brash, and coarse. He’s certainly not our type, you can be sure of that.”
Elizabeth nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. Howard Haskell had an air of excitement about him, a presence that made her feel as though he was inches away, even though he was at the other side of the room. He gave her a feeling, several feelings, and one of those was that he was indeed completely her “type.”
Be sure to order Love’s Prelude ASAP. It’s only 99 cents! At Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.
February 17, 2016
Excuses, Excuses
New Year’s resolution? Nailed it!
Ah yes! You know how New Year’s resolutions go. I had a great one too. Well, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to learn how to make donuts from scratch. BAM! There they are. I need a bigger donut cutter, but they were really tasty. Now to perfect the recipe and tweak it. Chocolate donuts anyone?
But my other New Year’s resolution…. Well, this isn’t a Western Wednesday post, and there wasn’t one last week or the week before. So, yeah. That one kind of fell apart a little. But I have a really good excuse of why I wasn’t able to post about Western history for the past few Wednesdays. It’s because my dad, Richard E. Farmer, passed away on January 29th. He hadn’t been in great health for the past few years, so it wasn’t unexpected. What was unexpected was the sudden family trip to Huntsville, Alabama, where he lived. I pretty much lost a week of work.
So why mention all of this? Well, if you’re bound and determined to make a career out of writing, there will come a point when the unexpected rears its head. As much as you plan and make a schedule for yourself, set goals and work diligently to accomplish them, there will be times when something entirely unexpected comes out of nowhere and blasts your plans to bits. For me, it was losing my dad. For my good friend Kirsten Osbourne, it was a thyroid cancer diagnosis which will mean surgery tomorrow. Don’t worry! Thyroid cancer is 95% curable, and her doctors are on top of it, but it’s going to push back a little something-something that the two of us have been working on for you. *wiggles eyebrows*
The point is, you can’t plan for everything. You can’t plan for Amazon to change the way they tally page reads in their Kindle Unlimited program. (They just changed things, and the payout to authors for the month of January went way, way down… But many authors are theorizing it may go back up next month… Except, it might not) As organized as you make yourself, you can’t plan for another eBook platform going under…or another one rising up. You have no power whatsoever over traditional publishing houses merging or dissolving, and you definitely can’t control the amount of time it takes for them to make decisions about books.
Bottom line is that no matter how much you plan and structure your writing career, things will come along that blow your plan out of the water. And yep, the same exact thing is true of life. My dad’s wife didn’t plan to lose her husband right after moving into a (giant) new house, while still renovating the old one and getting ready to sell it, and while also searching for an assisted living facility for her mother. Seriously. We may have had our differences in the past, but, whoa. But she’s soldiering on, and I’ve got to give her snaps for that. Makes me losing a week of work look like a day at the park.
Two authors in the making…
And that’s also the point. We run into hard times. Life takes unexpected turns. It ruins our plans and sends us back to the drawing board. But every time that happens, if we’re truly serious about the path we’re on, we have to take a deep breath, survey the situation, and figure out how to get back on track. Sometimes that’s as simple as making a list and checking it twice. Sometimes it involves a lot more shuffling, especially if other people are involved in your projects.
The definition of a professional is someone who continues to do the work even when the going gets tough. Hobbies can be set aside, but when this is your job, you’ll find a way to do it. My solution to February’s setbacks has been to forgive myself for not keeping New Year’s resolutions, to write my fingers off when and where I am able, and to readjust my schedule to fit in with all of the crazy going on around me. And also not to make promises that I can’t keep. Like release dates. Sorry! I wish I could tell you when my next book will be out, but at this point I’m just not sure. But I’ll definitely let you know. (And, psst! You can sign up for my newsletter to find out—plug, plug, plug)
And so, to close, I just want to say that even though we have had our differences over the years, my dad has always been a pivotal part of my writing. Like I said in the eulogy I delivered at his funeral, Dad was a storyteller. He used to tell me bedtime stories about the amazing characters and stories he was working on. (Dude, his character Sebastian Angel is epic, and I fully intend to use him in a sci-fi series I have in mind for the distant future) He was there when I was taking writing classes in college. We attended our first writer’s conference together. He even won a prize. But way back then, I vowed that I would beat him to publication. Which I did. Dad finished one book and worked on a few others, but the only thing he published was a sweet short story. I plan to fix that if I’m able to get the manuscript for the book he finished.
February 10, 2016
Release Day! – Montana Sky: The Wild Bride
It’s … okay, so technically yesterday was release day for Debra Holland’s brand new Kindle World based on her Montana Sky series. But we’re spreading out the love so that you can savor all of the books! I was honored to be asked to contribute a story to Debra’s world. The story I came up with, The Wild Bride, is an extension of both my Brides of Paradise Ranch and Hot on the Trail series! The hero of The Wild Bride is none other than Freddy Chance, who traveled across the Oregon Trail with his orphaned family and eventually found a home in Haskell, Wyoming with Pete Evans and Josephine. The heroine is Minnie Faraday–bright, bold, trouble-making daughter of Lucy and Gideon Faraday, and granddaughter of Howard Haskell. Minnie is in trouble, of course, so her parents send her up to Morgan’s Crossing, Montana, where Freddy has been working, to marry him. Only, no one told Minnie that’s why she was going…
“Looks like a real dunghill,” Agatha growled at her side.
“You’re not stopping?” Minnie asked him. “Not to let the other passengers rest?”
The driver grinned. “My instructions were to drop you here. That’s it.”
“Minnie.” He said her name again, walking toward her with a smile.
Freddy’s expression dropped from a warm grin to wariness. “You didn’t know I was here?”
“That’s not my trunk.” Agatha cut her off.
“That’s yours.” A sly, mocking spark lit Agatha’s eyes.
“No, I just have the one carpetbag. The trunk is yours, isn’t it?”
Agatha laughed and moved on. “They got you good, didn’t they?”
January 30, 2016
Release Day! – His Bewildering Bride
It’s here! The day is finally here! Book 3 in The Brides of Paradise Ranch is now available, either as the spicy version, His Bewildering Bride, or the sweet version, Wendy: The Bewildering Bride. A big shock is in store for Haskell, Wyoming, but it could also be the beginning of something wonderful. And for this weekend only, both books are available for only $0.99! Grab them before they go to regular price! Here’s how it starts…
Chapter One
Nashville, Tennessee – 1875
Hurst Home stood at the end of a long street in Nashville, near a bend in the Cumberland River. To the outside observer, it was nothing more than a plain, rather large house shaded by oaks. Its quiet front porch was sometimes occupied by modestly-dressed young ladies, but more often than not, it seemed to be nothing more than a serene, somewhat neglected dwelling. The only thing unusual about the house was the high, stone wall that surrounded it and the wrought-iron gate that discouraged casual visitors from stopping by.
To Wendy Weatherford, Hurst Home was a blessed oasis of relief in the middle of a life of turmoil. She checked over her shoulder as she approached the front gate, fumbling for the key in the brocade reticule she carried. No one was paying her any mind—the street where Hurst Home stood was dozy in the best of times—so she quickly unlocked the gate, shifted the basket on her arm that carried her sewing, and slipped through.
Once inside, she locked the gate behind her. She didn’t have anything—or rather, anyone—to fear, but more than a few of the young women she’d gotten to know since seeking refuge at the home were hiding from someone or another. For their sake, she was contentious about keeping the house safe and unnoticed. She hurried up the path to the front porch, unlocked the front door, and skipped inside.
The world inside of the secure walls of Hurst Home was as different as night to day from the outside.
“Has anyone seen my scissors?” Miriam Long shouted from halfway up the main staircase in the hall.
The burbling chatter of half a dozen ladies in the parlor to the left of the hall stopped, and one of the girls shouted back, “No. They’re not in here.”
From the wide dining room on the right, spritely red-head Talia Lambert popped out to say, “Are you sure you didn’t leave them in the kitchen when we were baking bread?”
Miriam huffed a dramatic sigh and struck a long-suffering pose—the back of her hand pressed against her forehead—as she leaned against the wall. The move showed off her perfect figure and the long waves of her blonde hair. “Will I never cease misplacing valuables?” she lamented.
Wendy cleared her throat. Miriam had come to Hurst Home straight from the theater, where she was in danger from an unscrupulous manager who thought he could sell more than just tickets to see Miriam perform. Wendy had only known the woman for three weeks, but that was enough to know that you could take Miriam off the stage, but you couldn’t take the stage off of Miriam.
“Here.” Wendy searched in her basket to find her second-best pair of scissors as she approached the stairs. “You can borrow mine.”
Miriam’s face lit up. “Oh, Wendy. You really are a darling.” She skipped down a few steps to meet Wendy as she came up. Wendy offered the scissors, Miriam took them, then kissed Wendy’s cheek. “I don’t care what they say about former slaves getting above themselves these days. You’re the most darling of women, no matter how you were born.”
Without the faintest idea that her words could be hurtful, Miriam skipped the rest of the way down the stairs, brandishing the borrowed scissors, and swung around the corner into the parlor with the others.
“I am ready to do battle with the quilt,” Miriam announced to the others, out of sight.
Wendy sighed, exchanging a glance with Talia, who continued to stand like a frail shadow in the doorway.
“She means well,” Talia whispered.
“I know.” Wendy managed a smile. “Unfortunately, she’s right about what people say.”
She turned to head up the stairs to take her work to her room, but Talia called after her, “I doubt that.”
Talia skittered away from the dining room doorway and followed Wendy upstairs. Wendy waited for her, and the two walked together up to the second floor and the room Wendy had been assigned when she came to Hurst Home.
“You’re the most talented seamstress I’ve ever seen,” Talia went on. “I know it, Miriam knows it, everyone in the house knows it, and soon all of Nashville will know it too. It…it doesn’t matter what you look like.” She lowered her eyes, a bright flush coming to her cheeks, betraying that she didn’t fully believe what she said.
Wendy opened her door, set her basket on the chair just past the doorway, then turned to fold Talia in a friendly hug. “Would that the world was filled with more kind hearts like you,” she said. “But I fear it will take more than the end of slavery and the passage of a few laws before my people will have the opportunities they deserve.”
“But things are better now, aren’t they?” Talia asked, sitting on Wendy’s bed and glancing up at her with big, innocent eyes. “Your people are free. You can go to school, engage in a profession, own land, vote.”
Wendy nodded as she sank to sit on the bed with Talia. “For now, yes. But laws that harm can be passed as easily as laws that help. And there are still many who look at me and see the evidence of their own defeat instead of my skill or my heart.”
“I don’t understand.” Talia’s face fell. “I’ll never understand.”
Wendy reached out to hug her dear friend. As she did, creaking came from the stairs. A moment later, Elspeth Leonard—another of her housemates, a somber, proper Englishwoman who was slightly older than the rest of the women in the house—appeared in the door. She smiled kindly at the sight of Wendy and Talia.
“Wendy, I was told you had returned.” Elspeth had a voice and an accent that soothed and charmed. Of all the women in the house, Wendy felt as though she could carry on the most stimulating conversations with Elspeth. But there was no time for conversation today. “Mrs. Breashears told me to alert you that she wishes to see you as soon as you have a moment.”
Brow raised, Wendy exchanged a look with Talia. She stood. “I’m ready now if she is.”
Elspeth smiled. “She’s in her office.”
Wendy crossed out to the hall, Talia following her. The three women headed back down the stairs to the first floor. The noise from the parlor had grown tenfold since Miriam joined the women there. They were all laughing and talking over each other, and someone had sat down at the piano and was banging out Stephen Foster tunes.
“Thank heavens they’re not allowed to make that much noise all night,” Elspeth whispered as they turned the corner and headed to the back of the house. “None of us would ever get any sleep.”
Talia giggled, and Wendy shook her head, smiling over the truth of it.
They reached the door to Mrs. Breashears’ office, and as Wendy knocked, her two friends waved goodbye and went on their way. At Mrs. Breashears’ call of “Come in,” Wendy slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Ah, Wendy. I’m glad you’re home. Please, come, sit.” Mrs. Breashears jumped straight to business, gesturing for Wendy to take a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk. As soon as Wendy was seated, she went on with, “You know that we have an association with a frontier town in Wyoming, correct?”
“Yes.” Wendy’s heart sped up. She’d heard all about Haskell, Wyoming from the minute she set foot through the door of Hurst Home. It was all the girls could talk about once their imaginations turned to the opposite sex. “Two of Hurst Home’s women have been sent to Haskell as mail-order brides.”
“Precisely.” Mrs. Breashears nodded, folding her hands and resting them on her desk. “And when you first came here, one of the questions on the information sheet I asked you to fill out was in regards to whether you would be open to considering marriage to one of the ranchers or frontiersmen in Haskell, should the opportunity arise.”
“Yes.” Wendy scooted to the edge of her seat. “But I didn’t think it was all that likely that you would be able to find a match for me.” She had heard of some former slaves seeking their fortunes out West, where there were more opportunities and where common folk looked the other way in regards to skin color. From all she’d heard, the West was so desperate for new settlers that they didn’t care what a person looked like or what their background was. That was why so many foreigners were coming from Europe to make new lives.
“You’re in luck,” Mrs. Breashears announced, interrupting her thoughts. “For I think I’ve found exactly the young man for you.”
“Really?” Wendy couldn’t keep the smile off her face. This was it. This was what she’d wished and dreamed of for so long—a husband, a family of her own, and a future filled with possibility.
“Yes, his name is Cody Montrose, and he works as a ranch hand on Paradise Ranch,” Mrs. Breashears explained, picking up a telegraph and reading through it.
Cody Montrose. Wendy repeated the name to herself, pressing her hands to her stomach. Wendy Montrose, Mrs. Cody Montrose.
Mrs. Breashears cleared her throat and went on. “As I understand it, Mr. Montrose is a bit on the lively side. I’m assured he’s a good man,” Mrs. Breashears pushed on. “I wouldn’t consent to match any of you girls up with a man that fell short of my high standards. I have been given to understand that he needs a little settling, though.”
Wendy shrugged, her smile growing. “I don’t mind. Just because I’m not a hummingbird doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy their company.” Like Miriam, for example. She could never keep up with the girl’s antics, but she enjoyed her company nonetheless.
Mrs. Breashears seemed relieved. “I’m glad to hear it. We are looking for a woman who can be a steadying influence. And if it helps, each of the young men from Paradise Ranch who are willing to take a bride are having homes constructed for them. So even if Mr. Montrose does prove to be a handful, you’ll have your very own house to maintain while he goes off to work on the ranch every day.”
Wendy smiled at the thought. “A woman could put up with a lot to have her own house.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Breashears winked. “Though as I said before, I am assured that Mr. Montrose is a good man.”
Wendy shifted forward. “Does Haskell have a dress shop or a tailor or any establishment that could use my sewing skills?” Sewing may have been her job and her means of putting food on her and her mother’s table for years, but she still loved it and couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Mrs. Breashears tilted her head to the side. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Certainly there must be something.” She fussed with the papers on her desk for a moment. “Oh dear. I really should educate myself more about the town before I rush about making promises.”
“It’s all right.” Wendy reached across Mrs. Breashears’ desk to touch the older woman’s arm in support. “I’m so grateful that you were able to find a man that suits me that I would live in a remote shack if I had to.” Anything to get away from the sadness and misfortune that had marked her life so far. It wasn’t as if she had any family left in Nashville, or even Memphis now, to miss her.
“I’m so glad.” Mrs. Breashears sighed in relief. “So shall I telegraph them, letting them know it’s a match?”
“Yes, please.” Wendy beamed.
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