Tag: romance

Couple’s Interview: Clara Alexander & Beau (Fox) Vulpe from The Convict’s Courtship by Kylee Woodley

~ Cindy Thomson ~ Leave a comment


Interviewer: Thank you both for joining me. Clara, perhaps we’ll begin with you. What first
drew your attention to Beau?


Clara: Raises her eyebrows and folds her hands in her lap, shooting Beau a grin. He gestures
for her to answer. Well, as it so happens, Beau and I met by unconventional methods. At the
time, I was pursuing a career in journalism and had the grand idea to go below ground and collect an ore sample. You see, Virginia City sits on a massive silver deposit called the Comstock Lode. For many years, newspaper reporters have collected ore samples for the purpose of recommending the mine. In fact, the great Mark Twain records doing just this in his book
Roughing It. He, however, had a friend lower him down by rope, but then his friend played a dirty trick on him. He left him below ground until the miners returned from lunch to haul him up.


Beau: Quiet rumble of a chuckle as he clasps Clara’s hand. Bon… I think what drew her to me was my good looks. He winks, and she flushes.


Clara: Oh, I apologize—you asked what drew me to him. It was his steadiness. He was respectful and strong. I was dressed indecently—in a miner’s outfit with overalls. He led me to water, then protected me from a man of basest intentions. She pauses. But, of course, you will have to read our tale to hear more of that.

Interviewer: Ahh, yes! I have a copy of it. Thank you. Can’t wait to start.Now, Beau, you have a beautiful accent. You are French?


Beau: He nods solemnly. Oui… in part. I was born in ’45 to a Roma woman in France. When she died, I was sent to a Frenchman I did not know—my father. From there, I was raised among the French elite. Attended French schools. Served in the military.


Interviewer: And what was it like living in France during those years?


Beau: He glances at Clara, and she gives him an encouraging nod. It was hard. There was civil unrest, then the Franco-Prussian War in 1870–1871. I came to America after France lost—looking for peace, only to find more trouble.


Interviewer: I remember some of that trouble from books one and two.


Beau: He grimaces, then shrugs with a chuckle. To be sure. I found much trouble.


Interviewer: And you went by the name Fox during your time in Idaho and California. In fact, according to your bio, you spent much of your early acquaintance with Clara hiding who you were. What was the hardest part of that?


Beau: Long pause. At first, it was the danger of exposing myself to an Alexander. I have a history of conflict with this family starting in book one—The Bandit’s Redemption. I was on the run, and I could not risk drawing attention. But with time… je crois the hardest part was lying by omission to Clara and to those who showed me kindness. I owe her family more than I can say. I wanted to be worthy of her trust. Yet every smile she gave me felt like a debt I could never repay. And I feared that when she learned the truth, she would see only the man I once was—not the one I am trying to become.


Clara: And yet, when I did learn the truth, I found a humble man committed to do what was right at great expense to himself. She tugs at his hand, as though to reassure him, then turns to the interviewer. Beau carried guilt for so long, as though it were a physical burden. He sometimes forgets that redemption is not earned by suffering. It is received by grace.


Beau: Softly. She reminds me often.


Interviewer: Yes! Like it says in Psalm 103:12: “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.” It gives you a wonderful feeling of freedom to be separated from your sins and joined with God.


Beau and Clara: Amen. It’s true.


Interviewer: Now shifting to a lighter topic—romance—what surprised you most about each other?


Clara: His tenderness. One would not expect a man who can lift a timber beam with his bare hands to handle a woman’s heart with such care. But he does.


Beau: Clears throat. And I was surprised that someone who was groomed to be a demure lady would be outspoken in the most intriguing ways. Always, Clara has these “did you know” statements about the history of horses, the Suez Canal, Egypt’s geography, British law… I never know what she will tell me next, but I am always surprised. She fascinates me.


Interviewer: Last question. What do you hope your future looks like?


Clara: Well, I don’t want to give away any spoilers, but I am working steadily now—though not as I expected when I started my pursuit of a career in journalism. We hope to have a family someday. Clara blushes while Beau shows his first real, white smile. For now, we are making a home of our own and learning what it means to be a family—just the two of us.


Beau: Peace. Belonging. And Clara beside me. Always. God has brought us through an incredible challenge. I don’t know what more might be ahead, but we will face it together. With Him.


Clara: Soft smile. Then we’re agreed.

KyLee Woodley writes inspirational historical romance with a pinch of adventure. A cheery romantic, she loves to evoke bygone days and heartwarming love stories. KyLee teaches preschool at a lab school in Texas, where she lives with her husband and their three teenage children. Historical Bookworm Show—a steadily growing podcast for history lovers and fans of historical fiction. Raised in the Pacific Northwest and now rooted in Texas, KyLee carries a deep respect for American values and the power of redemption. She began ministering to the homeless and addicted as a teenager, and that compassion continues to shape her stories—loving the unlovely is a timeless theme.
In her spare time, she cares for a feisty feline named Hazel and two adorable Boston Terrier puppies. She listens to contemporary Christian, country, and early 2000s rock, visits bookstores and coffee shops with her teens, and watches adventure movies with her husband, who might resemble Superman.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F4LZG5SH
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-convicts-courtship-kylee-woodley/1147269691?ean=2940181206946
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Personal Website: https://kyleewoodley.com/

Book Review: A Spring at The Greenbrier by Sandra Merville Hart

~ Cindy Thomson ~ Leave a comment
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It’s 1914 at White Sulphur Springs in West Virginia. That unique setting is enough to pique my interest. It’s not a book about war, which for me is a refreshing thing. I’ve enjoyed a lot of WWII novels and a few WWI novels but I’m always ready for something different.

Marilla works at the Greenbrier Resort, helping guests enjoy the benefits of the hot springs baths. She’s there for two reasons. Her widowed mother and her disabled little sister depend on her income. And her sister needs the benefit of the baths.

This is a romance so of course there is a love interest. They both have little sisters who need healing. Their mothers become friends. But (there’s always a but) Marilla and Wes are from two different classes.The time period marked a crosswords between the old ways and the modern ways. Class distinctions were still followed but the younger generation at this point was beginning to move away from them. Wes isn’t as concerned, although the question of “is she after my money” lingered at the back of his mind. Marilla, however, believes these distinctions still exist and she doesn’t want to lose her job where employees are not allowed to mingle with resort guests. There is a boundary that the characters debate throughout the book.

I don’t normally read romances. Just not my cup of tea. But Sandra Merville Hart does a wonderful job with her historical details (my favorite part) so it is certainly worth the read.

If historical romances are your cup of tea, check hers out!

Review by Cindy Thomson, www.cindyswriting.com

Meet Sara from Christine Hill Suntz’s The Lawyer and the Laundress

~ Cindy Thomson ~ Leave a comment
book cover
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Welcome to Novel PASTimes! We haven’t seen you around Cooper’s Inn before. Where are you from?

I’m Sara O’Connor, the new laundress. I’ve always lived here in Toronto, but this town has changed so much. When I was a child, people called it “muddy York”. The buildings were rough and the streets nearly impassable after a rain. 

It’s 1837 now, and Toronto is a city. New settlers come through every day. Farms are springing up in the wilderness that used to surround the city. Cooper’s Inn is a busy place. I suppose that’s why Mrs. Cooper hired me.

I thought I saw a little girl here a moment ago. Is she your daughter?

Oh, heavens, no. That was Evie. She takes lessons with the Cooper girls, but they exclude her every chance they get. She visits me instead, and I’m happy to see a friendly face. We have to be careful, though. Mrs. Cooper saw me talking to her and gave me a warning. Doesn’t want a girl from a fine family mixing with the riffraff from Irishtown like me, I suppose. 

Evie’s father has it out for me, too. He’s forbidden her from speaking to me. Can you imagine? What does he think I’ll do, force her to do my work? I’m the one friend she has here, and he wants to take that away. 

He’s a lawyer, so I shouldn’t be surprised. He lives by the rules and doesn’t understand a young girl’s heart. I’d like to go right up to him and make him open his eyes, but I can’t risk losing my position. 

Still, I won’t push Evie away. I guess I see in her the little girl I once was. We neither of us knew our mothers. We even love the same books. Have you read Ivanhoe? 

No, I can’t say that I have. I don’t mean to offend, but how does a laundress come to read Ivanhoe? You don’t sound like you’re from Irishtown, either.

Well, the truth is, I didn’t always live in Irishtown. In fact, I might have more in common with Evie than anyone realizes. 

I could earn more money as a lady’s maid or even a governess, but I have my reasons for working as a laundress. There are people I’d rather not see again, people who let me down when I needed them. I wouldn’t go back to that world, even if I could.

That’s why I keep to myself here at Cooper’s Inn. Or, at least, I did until Evie came along. Now I’m not sure what to do. Someone has to make her father understand her, but it can’t be me. I have too much at stake.

You see, I need to money to take care of Granny. She was a laundress, too. She taught me the trade and gave me a home when I had nothing. Now, it’s my turn to take care of her. She’s all I have left. 

Thanks for taking the time to chat with us today. Before we go, any idea what’s happening in the common room? It’s full to the brim, and those men sound angry.

Meetings like this are happening all over the colony. No surprise, I say. Hundreds of newcomers arrive here, hoping for a better life, but the same systems that held them back in Britain exist here. A few wealthy families hold all the power and run our colonial government. The elected assembly can do very little to sway the Queen’s appointed governor. They’re frustrated.

So you’re a rebel, then?

No! I’m just a laundress who lives among the poor. I see how they struggle. You won’t repeat anything I’ve said, will you? 

Your secret is safe with us, Sara. It sounds like you have some big decisions ahead of you. Good luck!

Christine Hill Suntz knew she wanted to write novels the day she finished Anne of Green Gables, and she’s been lost in her imagination ever since. Her love of language led her to study French and German and pursue a graduate degree in Comparative Literature before finding a home teaching high school French. Her work has won numerous prizes, including the 2022 ACFW Genesis competition.

Christine lives in Ontario on a hobby farm with her family, a flock of chickens, one attack rooster, and a herd of entitled goats. When she’s not writing or teaching, she enjoys trying out historical recipes on her (mostly) willing family.

Instagram: @christinehillsuntz Facebook: Christine Hill Suntz Author

https://www.tyndale.com/p/the-lawyer-and-the-laundress/9798400507755

Meet Cassie Barton from Tracie Peterson’s Under the Starry Skies

~ Cindy Thomson ~ Leave a comment
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My name is Cassandra Barton, but people just call me Cassie.  I live in San Marcial, New Mexico which is on the Rio Grande River.  It’s a hub for the Santa Fe Railroad beings it’s about half way between Topeka and Los Angeles.  I work as a seamstress with the bulk of my work coming in from the railroad men.  I like this kind of work because I am my own boss and can do as much or as little work as I need to do. This turns out to be a very good thing because right off the bat, I break my wrist in a little accident and can’t sew for six weeks.

Brandon Dubarko makes sure I don’t suffer too much. He was a good friend and co-worker of my father’s. He works for the Santa Fe Railroad (just like my father). Brandon is soft-spoken and a deep thinker.  He’s got a world of sorrows to deal with, but he never talks about it. I’m not at all sure what’s weighing him down. I know he really misses my father…and so do I. 

My father died earlier this year when his train derailed. Brandon thinks there was foul play and that someone actually caused the derailment, but I’m not sure that’s the case.  Trains have accidents all the time and it doesn’t take much to derail a train. But, if someone did cause the derailment, then they murdered my father and his fireman.

My father and I were really close, especially after Mother died and my sister Melissa moved to Denver. My deepest desire is that Melissa and I can be close again. After she moved off and married, we aren’t nearly as close as we used to be.  Of course, now she’s a mother and that is bound to take up a lot of her time. 

My future, once my wrist mends, is questionable. A part of me wants to stick around San Marcial, but another part thinks about going to Denver to be closer to Melissa. Of course, at my age (32) I would like to think there was still a chance for romance, but I’m not sure that’s true. It would be a dream come true however, if someone decided I was worth loving.  There was one man…a long time ago.  We were in love and planned to marry, but then my mother died and I needed to care for Melissa.  I don’t know but that it might have been my only chance for love.

I’ve always felt I had to be strong for my family, but now that Mother and Father are dead and Melissa’s married, it’s just me and I’m not real sure what I’m going to do. I know that God has a plan for me, however.  I’ve put my trust in Him since I was little, and I’m not about to stop now. My relationship with the Lord is the thing I value most in life.  He will always see me through.

Award-winning novelist, Tracie Peterson, has been praised for
her captivating historical fiction novels. While each novel weaves
a different tale, Peterson packs her signature elements of history,
action, and romance into each work while also offering
underlying life lessons. In her newest novel, Under the Starry Skies,
Peterson crafts a story about facing your past and learning to
forgive others and yourself.

Meet Nora Fenton from Stephenia H. McGee’s The Secrets of Emberwild

~ Cindy Thomson ~ 1 Comment
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Welcome to Novel PASTimes! We are pleased you stopped by today.

Hello and thank you for having me. I am Miss Nora Fenton, of Emberwild Horse Farm. 

Tell us something about where you live.

I live on the most beautiful farm in Mississippi. In the early mornings, when the sun first kisses the sky, the pastures stretch out in waves of green that beg for exploration. On those mornings, my colt Arrow and I get to be free. The pressures of life slip away as we soar, his hooves barely touching the ground. 

Do you have an occupation? 

I am a horse trainer. Now, before you point out that women are to keep to skirts and the kitchen, let me inform you that I am quite adept at my work. No matter what my father, uncle, or that sour stable master Roger has to say about it. 

I have been working with Arrow for his entire life, and he is the fastest colt I’ve ever seen. I’ll be training him for the harness this summer, and come time for the Neshoba County Fair, he will be ready to race. The hope of Emberwild rests on his back, but I know he won’t let us down.

You mentioned you’re training him to harness race. Can you tell us a little about that?

We raise trotting horses here at Emberwild. For a harness race, the horses are hooked up to a small cart called a sulky. The jockey sits in a single seat on the axel above two wheels with his feet propped on the rails. They are very light. The horses race at a trot. All trotters have to complete a time trial around the track in under two and a half minutes in order to make the breed registry.

I see here that there is a new trainer at Emberwild. How do you feel about that?

Mr. Silas Cavallero, yes. He is quite unneeded, I assure you. I am capable of handling Arrow on my own. Though I do have to admit, he’s quite unlike any of the other men who have tried to get Arrow under control. Arrow seems to like him. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Will you be racing Arrow at the fair this year?

For some unfathomable reason, women jockeys are frowned upon. But, we’ll just see about that, won’t we? 

Other than Arrow’s race, what other plans does Emberwild have for the future?

My father is very ill, and I’m afraid Mother and I will have to start thinking of our future without him. I’m confident that we will be able to run the farm on our own. Widows can own property, after all. I see no reason why we can’t continue on as two independent women. Once Arrow completes his runs, the buyers will flock to Emberwild to secure breeding rights and purchase our foals. 

We are so sorry to hear about your father, Miss Fenton. We wish you the best. One more question. Did you name your colt? Why Arrow?

I was there when Arrow was born. I shouldn’t have been, of course, and Mother was most displeased. Soon after he was born, he stood up on these long, spindly legs with the tiniest hooves. I told him he looked like he was trying to hold himself up on four little arrows. As he got older, I realized how perfectly the name fit. Not only does he have long, straight cannon bones, but Arrow can truly fly. You really should come watch him run. There’s nothing better.

That would be delightful. That’s all the time we have for today, Miss Fenton. Thank you for allowing us to get know you a little better!

My pleasure, truly. I must and get back inside and out of these men’s trousers before Mother sees me. Feel free to come visit Emberwild any time!

Stephenia H. McGee is the award-winning author of many stories
of faith, hope, and healing set in the Deep South. When she’s not
reading or sipping sweet tea on the front porch, she’s a writer,
dreamer, husband spoiler, and busy mom of two rambunctious boys.
Learn more at www.stepheniamcgee.com.

Meet Richard Stevens from Kathleen Denly’s Sing in the Sunlight

~ Cindy Thomson ~ 1 Comment

After hearing several interesting rumors about Richard Stevens, I decided to track him down for a few answers. I found him on Montgomery Street.

Good afternoon, Mr. Stevens. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time to ask a few questions on behalf of our Novel PASTimes readers. 

I was just about to dine at this restaurant. If you don’t mind joining me, I’m happy to answer your questions. Although, I can’t imagine why your readers would be interested in me.

I followed Mr. Stevens into the restaurant and we were seated at a long table beside several other hungry men. It was a bit noisy, but I managed to speak above the din as we waited for our food.

Well, to begin, someone informed me that you have a connection to one of our previous interviewees—a Miss Eliza Brooks. Is that so?

She’s Mrs. Clarke now, but my connection isn’t so much with her as with her husband. We grew up together in Roxbury, Massachusetts.

Did the two of you come to California together? 

No, he came years before I did. Do you mind if I pray before we eat?

Of course not. Go right ahead. 

Richard bowed his head to silently pray before nodding that I could continue.  

I’ve heard rumors of scandals involving your family back east. Something about your father’s drunken temper and your mother falling down a flight of stairs. 

Who told you that? 

It’s true then? Did you come west to get away from your father?

Listen, I agreed to answer your questions about me. Leave my family out of it or this interview is through.

Of course, my apologies. I was just trying to establish your reason for coming to California.

I escorted my sister here, but before you ask, I’m not going to talk about why she came. I stayed because of the opportunities available to me here that I couldn’t find back east. The people here, the life…it’s very different from the parlor visits and society dinners I grew up with. I know I can make a difference here, but…

Stevens’s words trailed off as our food arrived. Once the waiter had gone, I encouraged him to continue.

But what?

Forget it. What’s your next question?

I understand you’re now the owner of the Prosperity Mine in Nevada City. Can you tell me how that came to be?

There was an accident last year that took the previous owner’s son. Mr. Pollack and his wife decided to move back east and sold me the mine. 

Why you? Certainly there were others able to offer a better price for such a valuable enterprise. If you’d been working for them you couldn’t have saved up that much money. Unless you have family money…?

That wasn’t it. Mr. Pollack didn’t trust another investor not to cut corners. He was a good man who cared about the men that worked for him. He knew that, having worked there for two years, I knew what changes were needed to see that another accident didn’t happen. He trusted me to get it done.

That says a lot about you. Tell me, is it true you’ve hired a female as your secretary?

Yes. I encountered Miss Bennetti on a trip to San Francisco a few months ago. She was in need of a job and I was in need of a secretary. She has proven herself to be an excellent employee. I couldn’t be more pleased with her work. 

There are several who think you hired her with ulterior motives. Your miners claim they aren’t allowed to even speak to her because you’re planning to propose marriage to her.

When did you speak with my men? Forget it. Wherever you heard that nonsense, it simply isn’t true. My relationship with Miss Bennetti is strictly professional. In fact, I’ve recently learned she’s formed an attachment with…well, I’d better not say. I’m not sure they’ve made their announcement yet. 

Hmm. If not your secretary, perhaps you’re romantic interests lay with this Miss Johnson you’ve been searching for? I hear you’ve been knocking on doors all over the city. 

I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed again. I’m looking for Fletcher Johnson—a man. 

Hmm. Just a moment while I check my notes. Ah, yes, my apologies. It’s a Mr. Johnson and a Miss Humphrey whom you’ve been asking about. Is she the one—?

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I thought you were going to ask questions about me, maybe about the mine or…I don’t know, what. But so far you’ve insulted my family and continued to poke your nose into topics that are none of your business. I think this interview is through. 

But you didn’t answer—

My food’s getting cold. 

I tried several more times to get Mr. Stevens talking again, but he just kept eating in silence. When he was through, he smiled politely, thanked me for my company, and took his leave.

Kathleen Denly writes historical romance stories to entertain, encourage, and inspire readers toward a better understanding of our amazing God and how He sees us. Award winning author of the Chaparral Hearts series, she also shares history tidbits, thoughts on writing, books reviews and more at KathleenDenly.com.

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Interview with The Love Note’s Willa Duvall by Joanna Davidson Politano

~ Cindy Thomson ~ Leave a comment

Welcome to Novel PASTimes! We are pleased you stopped by today.

I’m honored to speak with you!

We heard you’ve found a love letter in an old desk—what are you going to do with it?

Reunite two lovers, of course. Anyone who writes that way deserves to be united with the person who inspired such words. This is no ordinary love story, and I intend to see it through—as long as it isn’t too late, that is. I cannot bear for the person who wrote that letter to wonder why he or she never responded. It’s been buried in a crack of my old desk for who knows how long, and it’s still sealed. Someone needs to fix it, and the letter’s in my hands, so it falls to me. The world is sorely lacking in authentic love, and I’ve found it in this letter—such love should never go to waste.

You do, however, seem like a rather unlikely candidate. What interest does a medical professional have with family drama and old, broken romances?

There’s no one more perfect to find that letter than me. As a soon-to-be-doctor, I’m in the business of mending. Nothing moves me more than repairing what’s broken, whether its bodies or love stories. Besides—and don’t print this–I’ve turned down four proposals, so I’ve had a bit of experience in love. I may be a scientist, but I’m deeply fascinated by love stories—as long as they’re not my own. 

What started you down the path of medicine?

My father serves as a doctor, and I’ve had the opportunity to learn from him and his progressive thinking on medical care. As I’ve grown, I’ve discovered I have a unique combination to bring to the medical world—the education of a man and the keen perception, the warm heart, of a woman. There’s a huge lack in the medical world, and I can help fill it. People are dying who needn’t perish. Every time I think of the lives written off by an overworked doctor or a contaminated hospital, I can think of doing nothing else with my life. 

We’ve heard your next assignment is a long-term one at Crestwicke Manor, serving one Golda Gresham. How does this fit into your goals for the future?

Crestwicke is exactly where I need to be. You see, I signed a contract with my father that if I can successfully complete one nursing assignment, he’ll lay off pushing me into a match. He’ll let me pursue a medical degree, as long as I can find a school to take me on. I have agreed to marry the man of his choosing, should I fail. But I never fail. 

Then there is my other goal—the love letter. The desk where I found that letter came from Crestwicke, and the manor house is mentioned in the lines. The person who wrote it has to be there, and I will not leave until I find out who it is, and who he or she wrote the letter for.

Lady Gresham has a reputation for being demanding. How can you be so certain of your success?

I have a habit of taking on the impossible, so her reputation does not deter me. I’m a capable practitioner, and I have no reason to believe I cannot resolve her complaints, whatever they may be.

To be honest, I find the letter more of a challenge. There is not a single person at Crestwicke with even a trace of romantic flavoring to them. Who could have written such a letter? How will I ever find the truth? I’ll have to use my medical skills of observation and digging to the heart of a matter to unearth the truth of what went on in that house. Certainly someone there wrote the letter—and someone else earned the writer’s love. If there’s an ounce of authentic love in that house, I’ll find it and fan it into a flame.

What is your biggest fear as you embark on this project?

The same thing I fear in every patient visit—that I’ll fail. I’m afraid of failing those who depend upon me as a doctor, failing to notice or investigate or understand, fail to keep myself out of an obligatory marriage and lose myself in the process. I have so much riding on this assignment, but I’ve had so many cases—what could possibly go wrong?

Thanks for visiting with us today!

Joanna Davidson Politano is the award-winning author of Lady Jayne Disappears, A Rumored Fortune, and Finding Lady Enderly. When she’s not homeschooling her small children, she spends much of her time spinning tales that capture the colorful, exquisite details in ordinary lives. She is always on the hunt for random acts of kindness, people willing to share their deepest secrets with a stranger, and hidden stashes of sweets. She lives with her husband and their two children in a house in the woods near Lake Michigan and shares stories that move her at www.jdpstories.com.

A Conversation with Evelyn from Amanda Cabot’s Out of the Embers

~ Cindy Thomson ~ 1 Comment

NOVEL PASTIMES: Good morning, Miss Radcliffe. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.

EVELYN: I’m pleased to meet you too, but please call me Evelyn.

NOVEL PASTIMES: That feels a bit unseemly, since we’ve only just met, but if that’s what you want, Miss Radcliffe, I’m willing to do it.  

EVELYN: I’d prefer it. You see, I’m calling myself Evelyn Radner now, and it’s sometimes hard to remember to answer to that name.

NOVEL PASTIMES: Oh, my. Two names. That sounds as if you’re hiding. If you are, there must be a good reason for it.

EVELYN: There is. I hope I can trust you not to tell anyone, but someone’s trying to kill me. I can see I’ve shocked you, and I’m sorry for that, but I know it’s not my imagination. Even though the sheriff told me they’d caught the man who murdered my parents, I don’t believe it. I know he’s been watching me and that he wants me dead too. That’s why he burned down the orphanage where I was working and killed everyone inside. He’ll do anything to ensure that the last of the Radcliffes is gone.

NOVEL PASTIMES: My dear Evelyn, you’re so right. You have shocked me. I’m almost speechless over the horror of it all.

EVELYN: I didn’t mean to upset you.

NOVEL PASTIMES: Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s been asking the questions. Now I understand why you’ve come here – to hide from that man.

EVELYN: And to keep Polly safe.

NOVEL PASTIMES: Polly? I don’t think I’ve been introduced to her. 

EVELYN: Probably not unless you’ve been to the schoolyard. Polly’s only six years old. But let’s not talk about her. Her life has been even more difficult than mine, and that makes me want to protect her from everything, even well-meaning questions.

NOVEL PASTIMES: I understand. I feel the same way about my children, and even though you haven’t said it, it’s clear to me that Polly is as dear to you as if she were your daughter. So, let’s talk about other things. Tell me what you think of Mesquite Springs. 

EVELYN: I don’t know where to begin other than to say that the people are the friendliest I’ve ever met and that it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever lived. I can’t decide what I like the most – the hills that surround the town, the little river, or the springs themselves. There’s so much natural beauty.

NOVEL PASTIMES: Don’t forget the bluebonnets.

EVELYN: I haven’t had a chance to see them yet, but I’ve been told they’re spectacular.

NOVEL PASTIMES: They are. And so is Wyatt Clark. At least that’s what all the single ladies tell me.

EVELYN: He is handsome, but have you noticed that he seems unhappy? I’ve heard he wants to leave Mesquite Springs, and I don’t know why. Do you?

NOVEL PASTIMES: I hadn’t heard that rumor. What I have heard is that he’s planning to sell his horses here rather than take them to one of the big cities.

EVELYN: It’s no rumor. Everyone I’ve talked to is excited about the idea of having more people come to Mesquite Springs. Even if it’s only for a few days, it’ll be good for all the businesses.

NOVEL PASTIMES: Including yours.

EVELYN: I hope so. I don’t want to seem boastful, but I’m pleased by the town’s response to having a restaurant again. 

NOVEL PASTIMES: We all need to eat.

EVELYN: And to have a place to gather. I sometimes think that’s almost as important as the food I serve.

NOVEL PASTIMES: I agree. I probably shouldn’t ask this, since we’ve just met, but I’ve heard that you have a number of men courting you. Is that true? Oh, I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.

EVELYN: You don’t need to apologize. The reason I shuddered when you said that was that I don’t think they’re truly interested in me. I think it’s my cooking that appeals to them.

NOVEL PASTIMES: Surely, you’re wrong. I know everyone in town raves about your food, especially that oatmeal pecan pie, but there’s more to marriage than cooking.

EVELYN: Like love. And that’s something none of them have offered.

NOVEL PASTIMES: None?

EVELYN: Well, maybe one …

About the Author

Amanda Cabot is the bestselling author of A Stolen Heart,A Borrowed Dream, and A Tender Hope, as well as the Texas Crossroads, Texas Dreams, and Westward Winds series. Her books have been finalists for the ACFW Carol Awards, the HOLT Medallion, and the Booksellers’ Best. She lives in Wyoming. Learn more at www.amandacabot.com.

Meet Tessa from Laura Frantz’s An Uncommon Woman

~ Cindy Thomson ~ 2 Comments

Welcome to Novel PASTimes! We are pleased you stopped by today, Miss Tessa Swan. 

Much obliged. Pardon me as I trade my soiled apron for a clean cambric one. My flyaway hair and untied bonnet strings shall stay. 

Tell us something about your family? What’s it like living with five brothers?

Squirrely! Especially when you’re fifth in the family and the only girl. Let’s see, there’s Jasper, the eldest and the most hog-headed. Then there’s Lemuel, Zadock, Cyrus… And Ross, the baby, only he’s bigger than me now. I’m most partial to Ross given I helped raise him. Of all my brothers, Ross keeps his face to the sun. Always sees the bright side. He’s most like Pa, you see. Only Pa was felled by Indians awhile back. 

I heard tell of one Swan who’s been called a fearsome wrinkle of a woman in homespun. Who might that be? 

That would be Aunt Hester. She’d as soon spit at than speak to you. She fancies herself the spinster queen of Fort Tygart, if for no other reason than she’s likely the oldest woman in the territory. And surely the meanest. I say all this without rancor as I do love her, ornery as she is. 

Is there anything special about your name? 

Tessa? It sounds right pretty, some say, with Swan attached. ‘Twas my granny’s name. She hailed from Scotland. Our family Bible penned it Teresa but somehow it got shortened to Tessa. I like my name. The French and Indian War hero, Clayton Tygart, remarked on it, too, when we first met. He called it uncommon. In a territory of so many Janes and Marthas and Anns I’ll keep it, thank you. 

What do you like most about where you live?

Aside from it being uncommon dangerous, you mean? I liken western Virginia to the Garden of Eden after the fall, breathtakingly beautiful but spoiled by the serpent, by so many hardships and trials. The Buckhannon is one of the most beautiful rivers I’ve ever seen. Actually, it’s the only river I’ve ever seen. I’d like to remedy that.

I hear a lament in your voice. Would you like to live somewhere else?

I’ve heard tell of overmountain places like Philadelphia. Williamsburg. Where folks don’t have to watch their backs or fear for their very lives. I’d like to know what’s it like for a body to rest easy, to look in shop windows and partake of a meal they didn’t have to cook in an ordinary or sit in what’s called a pew in a church with a big bell that rings you right in. One day, maybe…

What is your heart’s deepest desire?

To find a man who is brave yet loves books. Most men I know can’t read nor write. I do both but have never met a man who manages both, too, except for the fort’s storekeeper, old as yesterday’s breeches. 

What are you most afraid of?

Being taken captive by Indians like my beloved childhood friend, Keturah Braam. We were out picking strawberries when she vanished, quick as a blink. I recall it clear as yesterday though more than a dozen years have passed since. She was my bosom friend. Nobody’s come close since. 

Thanks for allowing us to get know you a little better!

Mighty kind of you. Thank you!

Laura Frantz is a Christy Award winner and the ECPA bestselling author of eleven novels, including The Frontiersman’s Daughter, Courting Morrow Little, The Colonel’s Lady,The Lacemaker, and A Bound Heart. Learn more at http://www.laurafrantz.net.

A Chat with Raina from Finding Lady Enderly by Joanna Davidson Politano

~ Cindy Thomson ~ Leave a comment

Name: Raina Bretton      

Parents: Poor working class, and now deceased.

Siblings: None living

Places lived: Spitalfields, London; Rothburne Abbey in Somerset

Jobs: Restorer and seller of rags

Friends: Sullivan McKenna, fiddle-playing Irish transplant who’s the son of the local vicar in Spitalfields.

Enemies: Victor Prendergast, solicitor and lady’s maid, Simone (although I’m not sure why we’re enemies)

Dating, marriage: Secretly in love with childhood best friend Sully, Sullivan McKenna

Children: None yet

What person do you most admire? The little old widow who shares my flat. She has more spunk than ten men.  

Overall outlook on life: it’s tough, but I’m tougher. Yet there’s a lot of beauty to be found outside these crowded slums, and plenty to appreciate right here, too, if you’ve an eye for it.

Do you like yourself? I’m a restorer of rags, and I cringe at that part of myself, but I’m also a restorer of castoff people. That alone makes a soul worth keeping on this earth, in my opinion. 

What, if anything, would you like to change about your life? Anyone could stand to have a bit more coin in her hand. Yet more than that, I secretly wish to be rid of these terrible rags that are a label and a barrier to people seeing the true me. I’d never admit it out loud, but I’d love to be swathed in vibrant colors and lush fabrics that match my artistic heart.

How are you viewed by others? I’m a thief if I’m hanging about too close, a schemer if I stand too long staring at a gent, and a dirty, common woman to be avoided if I’m anywhere near respectable folk. I’m as much an outcast as the rags I peddle, but one day that’ll all change. Maybe not this side of eternity, but it will.

Physical appearance: People always look twice at my face when I’m not in rags, and that’s the best mirror I have. I’m the rag woman, but a young one with a fresh face. With a good wash and fresh clothing, you’d think me a lady. Spending hours trapped indoors has left me as pale as the rich, and my aristocratic bloodlines have given me high cheekbones, delicate features, and soft, thick hair that begs to be piled high.

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Long, thick waves

Voice: Low and firm, with an edge when it’s needed.

Right- or left-handed? Right

How would you describe yourself? I’m loyal to a fault—count me a friend once, and you’ll find it hard to be rid of my help. I gravitate toward the abandoned, the castoff and the broken, drawn to repair as much as I can. I wear nothing of beauty on the outside, but do all I can to shore it up inside.

Characteristics: Made strong by adversity, plucky and independent, wary of everyone yet childishly eager to trust.

Strongest/weakest character traits: Natural ability to see the good in people—whether or not I actually should.

How much self-control do you have? A great deal—mostly because I set few limits on myself. I obey the rules that make sense and focus on people over laws. I obey my own set of rules quite nicely.

Fears: Becoming as worthless as society at large thinks I am.

Collections, talents: Rags find their way into my hands and no matter their condition, I can make something useful of them. I am the giver of second chances, of renewed life.

What people like best about you: Sully once told me I had the oddest combination of pluck and delicate beauty, and that I always stand out among the rich and the poor. I liked that. Those who have come to know me have experienced firsthand the restoring influence I bring to both rags and people.

Interests and favorites: A lifetime of restoring rags has given me a great variety of opinions on fabrics, embellishments, flounces, and ribbons. I love color and rich fabrics, and a well-done trim.

Food, drink: I’d be in heaven if you gave me a bowl of raisin pudding.

Books: I’ve devoured every written page I’ve ever come across in my life. I’m never above losing myself in a good story, be it ha’penny novels or rich scholarly work.

Best way to spend a weekend: Lying on the roof of my tenement with Sully, staring up at the stars and giving them names. The only words between us are the ones Dickens has penned that we’ll read together.

What would a great gift for you be? A luscious, vividly colorful gown with no trimmings, so I may adorn it with all the embellishments I’ve enjoyed creating on gowns that are not mine.

When are you happy? When I am with Sully—that’s when I most know who I am.

What makes you angry? Total disregard for any human on this earth.

What makes you sad? Knowing that no matter what I accomplish or know or do, I will always be simply, “the rag woman.”

What makes you laugh? The songs Sully creates on his fiddle. With the right words and a silly little grin, he never fails to make me laugh.

Hopes and dreams: A life outside of Spitalfields, where I can see the sky beyond the buildings and walk through the streets with the respect of a normal woman.

What’s the worst thing you have ever done to someone and why? I gave the Vicar a tongue-lashing once—the vicar! Near as bad as saying it to the Almighty himself. 

Greatest success: Bringing something cast away back to life—once it was a lovely red gown, another time a widow who’d lost all hope.

Biggest trauma: I’ll never forget the day I received word that my Sully’s ship had been lost. I’d sent my heart out on that boat, and it sank with him. I never had the courage to tell him of my love for him.

What do you care about most in the world? Finding life everywhere—in little hidden pockets throughout the slums, in the rags that are cast aside, in the people whose spark has gone.

Do you have a secret? Everything I am is about to become a secret, if I choose to accept the new life offered to me. No one can know I was ever Raina Bretton the rag woman.

What do you like best about the other main characters in your book? Victor is charming and so different than the rough Spitalfields men I know, even if he scares me a little. Sully—dear Sully—there’s no one more dear to me than my fiddle-playing, star-gazing, best friend who taught me to read.

What do you like least about the other main characters in your book? I don’t feel I know them thoroughly, but neither do they know me. In Spitalfields, everyone sees me as “merely the rag vendor.” In Rothburne, I’m something entirely false.

If you could do one thing and succeed at it, what would it be? Rescue Sully the way he’s rescued me from a lifetime of scrapes. That’s what best friends do.

Most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you: I was arrested once. I never like to talk about it, and I’m ashamed it happened. Everyone assumes, when you’re the rag woman, and no one stops to ask why you carted off with the clothing left on the curb. Even if you had perfectly good intentions, those bobbies will assume and drag your hide off to prison anyway. I never want anyone to know about the night I spent there.

Joanna Davidson Politano is the award-winning author of Lady Jayne Disappears and A Rumored Fortune. She freelances for a small nonfiction publisher but spends much of her time spinning tales that capture the colorful, exquisite details in ordinary lives. She is always on the hunt for random acts of kindness, people willing to share their deepest secrets with a stranger, and hidden stashes of sweets. She lives with her husband and their two babies in a house in the woods near Lake Michigan and shares stories that move her at www.jdpstories.com.