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Trudy

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Prudence

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Sower of Dreams

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“I think Livingston was going to steal a kiss in the moonlight." Lily wrinkled her nose. "Well, I certainly wouldn't have given him one. He made me too uncomfortable, and I just met him!" Tyler cupped her face with his hands, leaning closer. "What about me?" he said, his voice low. "Will you give one to me?" "I shouldn't." The lonely years stretched ahead of her. Her earlier vow to make memories rose and suddenly she was desperate for some kisses of Tyler's to remember. In answer to his question, she tilted her mouth to his.”

ArtistDogCowboyWestern RomanceMontana RomanceRancher
Book:Painted Montana Sky
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“We'll ride along the river. It's a mighty pretty sight..." Puffy white clouds floated across the azure blue sky. Pine-covered mountains crowned with snowcaps folded down into foothills that ringed the valley. Beneath the clouds the play of sun and shadow cast hazy blue-green patches on the mountainsides. A distant large-winged bird rode on air currents before diving into a clump of trees.”

RomanceWesternCowboyBostonMontana
Book:Wild Montana Sky
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“I didn't mean to upset you, Ms. Hamilton," his gaze shifted back to her. "It's a beautiful sight and I thought you'd like to see it." She gasped in delight at the vista before her. Distant purple mountains framed lush green meadows speckled with brown dots of cattle. A silver river threaded through clumps of trees. In the middle of the valley, ranch buildings clustered around a large white house. Elizabeth inhaled crisp air into her lungs...”

RomanceWesternCowboyBostonMontana
Book:Wild Montana Sky
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“Her thoughts drifted to Tyler Dunn... to the feeling of being held in his arms. Wistfulness curled through her heart and she wished for the freedom to enjoy the attention of a man... to indulge in a lady-like flirtation... to fall in love. Although the wishes weren't new, for the first time, she had someone to weave the fantasy around. She could easily paint a romantic dream of living here with Tyler. But, Lily knew that dreaming about such a life would only make it harder to live with her reality. Yet, she couldn't help imagining him in the pool like this, naked as a newborn babe, yet all man.”

ArtistCowboyRancherWestern Historical Romance
Book:Painted Montana Sky
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“I'll get right to the point," Mr. Carter said. "For the last year, we've been searching for a sheriff for our town." He grimaced. "Wouldn't have thought finding one would be so difficult."... "She hasn't said yes," Carter commented. He slanted her an inquiring glance. "Well, K.C. Granger. Will you have us?" At the marriage-vow-sounding question, K.C. felt a smile play around her lips, perhaps the first one since Charles' murder. In keeping with the formality of his question, and because a little imp of humor prompted her, she said, "I do.”

Collection Of Short StoriesChristmas StoriesHistorical Western FictionFeel Good StoriesHoliday Stories
Book:Montana Sky Christmas
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“With the way Bertha can cook and her good-natured personality, she’ll be married in no time. We’ll see to it!” She cast a speculative glance around. “Why I see ten available men within a hundred feet of us. ... Bertha will manage just fine…“ I hope.”

Historical RomanceWestern RomanceSweet RomanceClean RomanceMail Order Bride
Book:Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Series Novel
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“I particularly want you to meet Miss Bucholtz.” The very idea made him uneasy. “Why is that, Ma’am?” he bluntly asked. Mrs. Morgan hesitated. “Keep this under your hat, mind you.” “Yes, Ma’am.” She let out a tired sigh. “I’ve brought Miss Bucholtz to replace Mr. Gabellini.” Howie pictured a dried up old spinster with the same commanding presence as Mrs. Morgan, a real battle-axe. “Fireworks are coming. Are you sure a woman is the right, uh, person for the job?” “Bertha Bucholz is one of the best cooks I know. I guarantee by this time next month, you men will all be sporting five extra pounds.”

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Book:Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Series Novel
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“Don’t be sorry, Darlin’”, he said in his best cowboy drawl, “for I’m certainly not. It’s not every day a man like me gets to assist such a pretty lady. Any time you need help in or out of a wagon, you just give me a holler” he said in a teasing tone, “I’ll be right there, hoping you’ll fall in my arms again.”

Historical RomanceWestern RomanceSweet RomanceClean RomanceMail Order Brides
Book:Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Series Novel
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“Howie rose and smiled down at her. “I just eat what’s put before me without being picky. I know everything you make will make my tastebuds bless the day you set foot in Morgan’s Crossing” he drawled, waiting to see the adorable look of confusion that crossed her face when he flirted. Bertha lowered her gaze and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Only your tastebuds?”

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Book:Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Series Novel
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“Howie brought her hand to his lips. “You stepped in front of me,” he said in wonder. “I didn’t need you to. I can handle Prudence Morgan.” “But you didn’t.” She tapped his chest. “You stayed quiet for the longest time before responding.” “Quiet is how I handle difficult people….” “You don’t handle me that way.” Her voice came out sounding breathless. Howie slipped his arms around her. “If it were up to me, this is how I’d handle you.” Butterflies danced in her stomach. Not a fearful battering of wings, but a sparkling mating flight, making her heart soar into her throat. “Why isn’t it up to you?”

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Book:Mail-Order Brides of the West: Bertha: A Montana Sky Series Novel
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“The Christmas I was sixteen, my ma and I were poorer than church mice. My pa died when I was two, taking her heart with him." A smile curved his lips. "She could have remarried for a more comfortable life. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. We were happy, though, her and I. Just when I was getting old enough to do odd jobs, bring in some money to make her life easier, she got sick. I stayed home to nurse her. She had no strength left. But somehow she'd scraped together the last of her red yarn and made me a pair of stockings. My Christmas gift that year." Sensing his thoughts lingered in the past, Louisa brushed a finger over the scrap in her palm. "She died several weeks later." Louise caught her breath, aching for the pain of that young man. "I took a lot of ribbing for wearing red stockings. But I didn't give them up, even when I could afford to. I felt like they kept my ma close. Like she was with me." Tears welled up in Louisa's eyes. One dripped over. He caught the drop on the tip of his finger. "They brought me luck." "That's why you're called Red. I wondered.”

Western RomanceHistorical Western
Book:Montana Sky Christmas
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“You cannot go into labor," Caleb ordered, anxiety clenching his innards. "The baby is coming!" She enunciated every word. "The doctor is a long day's ride away in Sweetwater Springs, and there's no woman for miles. You'll just have to wait." As the contraction eased, the tightness in her body relaxed, and she gave him a wan smile. "Does everyone always do what you say?" 'Is that levity in her voice? At a time like this?' "They comply if I know what best, and I usually do.”

Western RomanceClean RomanceSweet Water Springs
Book:Mystic Montana Sky
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“Mrs. Baxter gave his mother a look of disbelief. "So you are saying I should accept these gifts because doing so makes Mr. Livingston more lively?" The image came to him of his uncle doing a jig, and Ben burst out laughing. Everyone turned to stare at him. Ben scrambled for something to say, for he didn't think the jig image would go over well with his uncle. Then he remembered the text from Sunday's sermon. "Well, Reverend Norton says that. 'It's more blessed to give than to receive.' So you're making sure he's blessed, Mrs. Baxter.”

Western RomanceSweet RomanceClean Romance
Book:Mystic Montana Sky
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“His gaze lingered on her mouth, wide and sweet. A sudden hunger to kiss her made him draw Maggie close. He pressed his mouth against hers, softly, a gently caress, not a searing kiss, for he didn't want to frighten her away. Her hand on his arm tightened. Caleb ran his tongue smoothly over her lips until she opened to him, making a small sound. He wanted to plunge his tongue into her mouth and deepen the kiss, to pull her against him and slide his hands over her curves, but he knew that brute of a husband had hurt her. This was only supposed to be a light flirtation, so he held back and waited for her to lead. Maggie pulled back a few inches. Her eyes fluttered open, dark and luminous, the gold flecks sparkling in the sun. She swallowed and moistened her lips. She studied his face. Her generous mouth trembled, and then her lips turned up. "Why did you kiss me? "Because I enjoyed your enjoyment in our drive today. I know how seldom pleasures come your way, and I was glad to give you the experience. Because I lack appreciation of my blessings..." 'Because you are mine.' Caleb didn't want to delve deeper inside himself to find his true feelings, so he resorted to some light banter. He touched the tip of her nose with one finger. "This is the month of May. A man is supposed to steal kisses in May.”

Western RomanceClean RomanceHistoric Western Romance
Book:Mystic Montana Sky
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“Jacques appeared on his hands and knees, peering around the corner of the cabin. His dark eyes lit with pleasure when he saw her. The baby flashed Antonia his wide grin and scooted toward her. Only in the last two days had he gone from pushing himself across the floor to a hands-and-knees crawl. Henri trailed so close behind Jacques that he had to walk wide-legged so he didn’t step on his brother. The baby reached her, placed his hands on her legs, and pressed himself up, grabbing at the front of her tunic. “Maa.” Antonia hugged Jacques. He’d soiled his rabbit skin diaper and smelled, but she held him close, needing to feel the baby in her arms. He wiggled in protest. She dropped a kiss on his forehead and reached up to her shoulder to unlace the leather ties of her tunic, pulling the flap down to free her breast. He began to suckle greedily. Henri dropped to her other side and leaned against her. Antonia put her arm around him. Just holding her sons brought her comfort but also increased her despair. What do I be doin’ now? Should I be takin’ the boys and leave? Head for Sweetwater Springs? Antonia shook her head. No! I won’t be leavin’ Jean-Claude. Cain’t leave my home. But without her husband to provide for them, she didn’t know how long she’d be able to manage on her own. Somehow, I’ll be findin’ a way, Antonia vowed.”

Historical RomanceWestern Romance
Book:Healing Montana Sky
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“The stench of the pigpens made him take shallow breaths. Michael desperately wanted another drink to drown his sorrows…or, more aptly, his angers. He promised himself that once he found the source of the problem, he’d head to Rigsby’s and let alcohol smooth the edge off his ire. Maybe with a few drinks in him, he could better handle Prudence. Nothing else I’ve tried has worked. “Michael!” At the sound of his wife’s voice, he stiffened. Speak of the devil. Is there a word for female devil? He couldn’t think of one. He nodded good-bye to Hong and was stepping away when--- “Michael, I want to talk to you!” Her voice rose until the timbre was almost a shriek. She ploughed pell-mell for him, her face red with anger. Hong ducked into his tent. Out of sight, maybe, but not out of earshot. The Guans’ should stuff cotton in their ears to block out the worst of Prudence’s screeches. “I need a drink,” he said, beginning to turn away. “Oh, dear Lord. Don’t tell me you’re a drunkard like that Obadiah Kettering. Is that another thing you omitted to tell me about your character?” He swung back. She was inches away, arms flung wide. “You omitted telling me I’d be marrying a shrew,” he said. “You should have written the word at the top of your fancy stationary in big block letters.” He sketched the word in the air and stated each letter. “S-H-R-E-W.” “Why…why I never!” Her mouth opened and closed as if she sought just the right words to hurl at him. “As for being a drunkard. Up until today, I only occasionally sought refuge in the bottle. But I think being married to you, my dear wife, will make me a frequent patron of Rigsbys Saloon. In fact, I might as well take up residence in the place.” Stepping forward, she brought up her hand to slap him. He leaped out of the way. Prudence missed, and her hand sailed past, making her off balance. Sure she was going to try again, Michael moved away, putting more space between them. Prudence slipped on a slimy rock and lost her balance, rotating and stepping sideways only to catch her heel in the hem of her skirt. She teetered backward toward the pigpen. Her legs hit the low fence, catching her at knee-height. Oh, no! Michael leaped to catch her. With a horrified expression, Prudence windmilled her arms in an effort to right herself. Michael missed, grabbing only a fold of her skirt. He yanked back, hoping to pull her upright, but instead, with a ripping sound, the fabric tore. The momentum toppled Prudence backwards into the pigpen, where she landed on her rump in the mire. “Grrrrrr!” She scooped up two handfuls of mud and flung them at him. Shocked, Michael didn’t dodge until the last minute, and the stinking mud went splat against his chest and face.”

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Book:Prudence
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“Antonia Valleau cast the first shovelful of dirt onto her husband’s fur-shrouded body, lying in the grave she’d dug in their garden plot, the only place where the soil wasn’t still rock hard. I won’t be breakin’ down. For the sake of my children, I must be strong. Pain squeezed her chest like a steel trap. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of loam and pine. I must be doing this. She drove the shovel into the soil heaped next to the grave, hefted the laden blade, and dumped the earth over Jean-Claude, trying to block out the thumping sound the soil made as it covered him. Even as Antonia scooped and tossed, her muscles aching from the effort, her heart stayed numb, and her mind kept playing out the last sight of her husband. The memory haunting her, she paused to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow, her face hot from exertion in spite of the cool spring air. Antonia touched the tips of her dirty fingers to her lips. She could still feel the pressure of Jean-Claude’s mouth on hers as he’d kissed her before striding out the door for a day of hunting. She’d held up baby Jacques, and Jean-Claude had tapped his son’s nose. Jacques had let out a belly laugh that made his father respond in kind. Her heart had filled with so much love and pride in her family that she’d chuckled, too. Stepping outside, she’d watched Jean-Claude ruffle the dark hair of their six-year-old, Henri. Then he strode off, whistling, with his rifle carried over his shoulder. She’d thought it would be a good day—a normal day. She assumed her husband would return to their mountain home in the afternoon before dusk as he always did, unless he had a longer hunt planned. As Antonia filled the grave, she denied she was burying her husband. Jean-Claude be gone a checkin’ the trap line, she told herself, flipping the dirt onto his shroud. She moved through the nightmare with leaden limbs, a knotted stomach, burning dry eyes, and a throat that felt as though a log had lodged there. While Antonia shoveled, she kept glancing at her little house, where, inside, Henri watched over the sleeping baby. From the garden, she couldn’t see the doorway. She worried about her son—what the glimpse of his father’s bloody body had done to the boy. Mon Dieu, she couldn’t stop to comfort him. Not yet. Henri had promised to stay inside with the baby, but she didn’t know how long she had before Jacques woke up. Once she finished burying Jean-Claude, Antonia would have to put her sons on a mule and trek to where she’d found her husband’s body clutched in the great arms of the dead grizzly. She wasn’t about to let his last kill lie there for the animals and the elements to claim. Her family needed that meat and the fur. She heard a sleepy wail that meant Jacques had awakened. Just a few more shovelfuls. Antonia forced herself to hurry, despite how her arms, shoulders, and back screamed in pain. When she finished the last shovelful of earth, exhausted, Antonia sank to her knees, facing the cabin, her back to the grave, placing herself between her sons and where their father lay. She should go to them, but she was too depleted to move.”

Historical RomanceWestern Romance
Book:Healing Montana Sky
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“We have plenty of natural springs in our area. The cool springs have the sweetest water you'll ever taste - hence the name of our town. And it's never too cold for a Montanan to sit in a natural hot spring, even if it means your wet hair turns into icicles." Her hand rose to cover her mouth, and her eyes widened. He laughed at her shocked expression. Pamela lowered her hand. "Hot springs outdoors? In the winter?" "Hot springs feel down right good to soak in anytime, especially when the air's cold outside. The hot water soothes sore muscles and is good for what ails you. But I also have a river through my property. I've dammed up a spot that makes for a nice swimming hole when it's hot in the summer." A blush rose in her cheeks, and she glanced to the side. "Very refreshing," he teased, just to watch the pink deepen.... Pamela couldn't help the dreamy vision of bathing with him in a hot spring, touching each other as the snowflakes swirled around them. She let out a sigh. So romantic.”

Western Romance
Book:Beneath Montana's Sky
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“Daniel!" She waved the letter. "I have news," she called in the English she always used with him. Her son straightened up from the horse. "What, Mama?" Eager expectancy glowed in his blue eyes, and for a moment he looked so much like his father that a familiar pain pierced her heart and tempered her excitement. From long practice, she shoved her sadness aside. "I've inherited Uncle Ezra's ranch in Montana.”

Western Romance
Book:Starry Montana Sky
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“Red seeped into Nick's face. "Elizabeth and I were married two weeks ago, " he explained to Samantha. Laughter crinkled the skin around Wyatt's eyes. "Nick built her a house before the wedding. I never saw one go up so fast in my life." Nick's flush deepened. "It's not completely finished yet. Elizabeth just refused to wait any longer." There was a touch of wonder in his tone. Emotion welled into Samantha's throat and she swallowed. She remembered how Juan Carlos had acted those first weeks they were married. Proud, happy as not quite believing his good fortune. What a special time that had been. How she missed him. "I wish you happiness in your marriage, Mr. Sanders," she said. "Call me, Nick, Ma'am." The red receded from his cheeks, leaving behind a glow. "Thank you, I'll pass your good wishes to Elizabeth.”

Western Romance
Book:Starry Montana Sky
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“Wyatt. I've just received a letter from Mrs. Samantha Sawyer Rodriguez. She's Ezra's niece and has inherited his ranch." ... "She lives in Argentina." ... She's a widow with one son." ... "She's moving out here." ... "Going to breed horses and take in orphan boys to raise up as God-fearing citizens." "You say this Rodriguez woman is goin' to raise horses?" ... "Horses from Argentina?" "A stallion and five mares. Falabellas. Must be some South American breed.”

Western Romance
Book:Starry Montana Sky
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“On the road leading from his ranch to Samantha's, Wyat t drove his surrey up a small hill and caught his breath as the beauty of the large crescent moon dangling just out of reach over the crest A full moon would have been plump with luminescence, yet the pearly surface of the sickle still cast enough light to shadow his surroundings and seemed close enough that once he drove to the top of the hill, he'd be able to touch the bottom horn or at least toss a rope around it. He slackened the reins, slowing the horse, knowing that the higher he climbed, the sooner the illusion of closeness would disappear and he wanted to preserve for a moment the fantasy that the moon was within his grasp. The stars, by contrast, were distant pricks of diamond light farther out than a man could dream. He sighed. Life as a rancher or as a rancher's wife was not moon and stars easy or romantic. What would put stars in Samantha's eyes?”

Western Romance
Book:Starry Montana Sky
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“As they walked toward the dance floor, Pamela barely felt the bruises on her feet from Henry. The thrill of waltzing with Mr. Carter practically banished the ache. On the floor, he took her into his arms. She liked the feel of his hand on her waist, the press of their gloved palms together. For the first time, the intimate posture, which had always made her feel uncomfortable and stiff, seemed right, and she wished he would pull her closer. Throughout the beginning of the waltz, they remained silent. She had the sense that Mr. Carter was concentrating on his steps, and she didn't want to distract him. He frowned. "I'm sorry I'm not a very good dancer." "Not at all." Pamela thought of Henry and had to restrain a laugh. She didn't want Mr. Carter to think she was making fun of him. "You couldn't possibly be worse than my previous partner, who led me in the wrong direction and trod on my toes!" His troubled expression cleared. "Well, then, I'm grateful you decided to risk your toes again with me. I promise, I'll try to keep my boots on the floor where they belong." He wiggled his eyebrows. Pamela laughed at his playful act. "I watched you with Elizabeth, and you were fine. So accepting your invitation to dance was not such a risk as you're making it out to be." As they bantered, Pamela found herself relaxing. Conversing with this stranger she'd only met twenty minutes ago was far easier than talking with some men she'd known all her life. Mr. Carter also seemed to become comfortable. His lead became more expert, and he picked up their speed. As they became in tune with each other, they flowed in perfect step to the music. Exhilaration welled up in Pamela. She'd never known dancing could feel like this. She glanced up at him, feeling a smile as wide as the moon stretch across her face. "We're flying!”

Western Romance
Book:Beneath Montana's Sky
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“As a trumpet joined the organ in Jeremiah Clark's triumphant march, John was glad Pamela had chosen the piece over the more traditional "Bridal Chorus" from Lohengrin. Even though he had familiarity with the music because Mrs. Norton had played the piece by Wagner at every wedding he'd attended. The music sent goosebumps down John's arms, bringing him into stark awareness of the sanctity of this ceremony, the weight of the commitment he was about to make, the new life journey he and Pamela were about to embark upon... together. Goosebumps shivered over his skin, and his legs trembled. He didn't chide himself for the unmanly reactions, just took some deep breaths to steady himself.”

Western Romance
Book:Beneath Montana's Sky
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“I want to stretch our legs and show you the view of our valley. It's a tradition when we bring someone special to the ranch for the first time." He set the kitten on the seat opposite them and opened the door. He stepped out, then helped her to the ground and started to release her. Pamela squeezed his hand and didn't let go. John's quick smile told her he approved. He led her to a lookout and waved an arm in a sweeping motion. "Our valley." "Really?" Delighted, she leaned forward to take in the view. Grasslands studded with cattle surrounded a big white house, outbuildings, a barn, and two smaller homes. She studied the house. From this distance, it looked large and comfortable, two-story, as John had described, with a porch across the front. She relaxed at the sight. The distant mountains still held snow on their peaks. Stark blue sky stretched over the land, with several puffy white clouds floating by. Our valley, she echoed.”

Western Romance
Book:Beneath Montana's Sky
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“I miss my mother." Mrs. Norton touched Trudy's shoulder in silent sympathy. "She never had a chance to see any of her daughters get married." Trudy laid the veil on the bed. "It's hard to completely enjoy your wedding day when your mother isn't with you." "Your mother did see your sisters wed and I'm sure she'll be with you today." Trudy looked at the woman, astonished she hadn't received a more pious answer from a minister's wife. She pointed a finger upward. "I know she's in heaven." Mrs. Norton gently folded Trudy's hand until her palm rested on her chest, "In heaven and in your heart, love never fails, my dear Ms. Bower. I know it's not the same as feeling your mother's arms around you on such a special day, nevertheless, I'm sure she's sending you plenty of love.”

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Book:Trudy
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“Chicago, Illinois 1896 Opening Night Wearing her Brünnhilda costume, complete with padding, breastplate, helm, and false blond braids, and holding a spear as if it were a staff, Sophia Maxwell waited in the wings of the Canfield-Pendegast theatre. The bright stage lighting made it difficult to see the audience filling the seats for opening night of Die Walküre, but she could feel their anticipation build as the time drew near for the appearance of the Songbird of Chicago. She took slow deep breaths, inhaling the smell of the greasepaint she wore on her face. Part of her listened to the music for her cue, and the other part immersed herself in the role of the god Wotan’s favorite daughter. From long practice, Sophia tried to ignore quivers of nervousness. Never before had stage fright made her feel ill. Usually she couldn’t wait to make her appearance. Now, however, nausea churned in her stomach, timpani banged pain-throbs through her head, her muscles ached, and heat made beads of persperation break out on her brow. I feel more like a plucked chicken than a songbird, but I will not let my audience down. Annoyed with herself, Sophia reached for a towel held by her dresser, Nan, standing at her side. She lifted the helm and blotted her forehead, careful not to streak the greasepaint. Nan tisked and pulled out a small brush and a tin of powder from one of the caprious pockets of her apron. She dipped the brush into the powder and wisked it across Sophia’s forehead. “You’re too pale. You need more rouge.” “No time.” A rhythmic sword motif sounded the prelude to Act ll. Sophia pivoted away from Nan and moved to the edge of the wing, looking out to the scene of a rocky mountain pass. Soon the warrior-maiden Brünnhilda would make an appearance with her famous battle cry. She allowed the anticpaptory energy of the audience to fill her body. The trills of the high strings and upward rushing passes in the woodwinds introduced Brünnhilda. Right on cue, Sophia made her entrance and struck a pose. She took a deep breath, preparing to hit the opening notes of her battle call. But as she opened her mouth to sing, nothing came out. Caught off guard, Sophia cleared her throat and tried again. Nothing. Horrified, she glanced around, as if seeking help, her body hot and shaky with shame. Across the stage in the wings, Sophia could see Judith Deal, her understudy and rival, watching. The other singer was clad in a similar costume to Sophia’s for her role as the valkerie Gerhilde. A triumphant expression crossed her face. Warwick Canfield-Pendegast, owner of the theatre, stood next to Judith, his face contorted in fury. He clenched his chubby hands. A wave of dizziness swept through Sophia. The stage lights dimmed. Her knees buckled. As she crumpled to the ground, one final thought followed her into the darkness. I’ve just lost my position as prima dona of the Canfield-Pendegast Opera Company.”

OperaHistorical RomanceSweet RomanceClean RomanceLumberjack
Book:Singing Montana Sky
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“Mrs. Flanigan made this for you and dropped it off earlier. So pretty, wouldn't you agree?"... "White roses - the bride's flower," Mrs. Norton said with a lilt in her voice. "For unity, purity, and a love stronger than death." She touched the edge of a blossom. "And, in addition, you have chrysanthemums for fidelity, optimism, joy, and long life, with the color white standing for truth and loyal love." As if caught in a spell, Grace stared at the flowers, a lump forming in her throat, the words echoing in her mind... Joy, truth, fidelity, a love stronger than death. Mrs. Flanigan chuckled. "Mrs. Norton, you make the bouquet sound so poetic. I'm afraid I can't take credit for such a romantic arrangement. I chose the only white flowers still blooming in my garden.”

Historical Western RomanceMail Order Bride
Book:Grace: Bride of Montana
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“Seth stepped out of the church. "Are you ladies ready?" He cocked an eyebrow at his wife. "The Viking's chomping inside, aye, chomping on his chainmail." His voice slid into a drawl for he obviously wanted to banish any female displays of emotion. "Another minute, he's liable to toss Grace over his shoulder and carry her off. Reverend Norton will have to chase after them, calling out the words to sanctify the rampaging abduction.”

Historical Western RomanceMail Order Bride
Book:Grace: Bride of Montana
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“Trudy rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. "I declare, Seth Flanigan, the longer I know you, the more your sense of humor increases. You barely had any when we first married. Now look at how you act. Being around Frey has brought out the worse in you." "No, I don't think it's Frey's fault." He winked at Grace. "It's what happiness does to a man." He gave Trudy a gently shove toward the doorway. "Go on with you, now. The Viking awaits his bride.”

Historical Western RomanceMail Order Bride
Book:Grace: Bride of Montana
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“If any can show just cause why this couple may not be lawfully joined in matrimony, speak now or --- "Reverend Norton halted, looking behind them with raised eyebrows. Before Grace had time to wonder why the minister paused - if someone was, indeed, objecting to their union - the rapid click of toenails on the wooden floor made both of them look back over their shoulders. Frey groaned and made a face. "Gertie!" He released Grace's hand. Who? A brown and black dog trotted up the aisle to them, tail held high. She had soft brown eyes and a thin, dark line down the middle of her forehead that gave her a worried look. She stopped in front of Frey and looked at him, her head cocked as if in expectation. The tips of her ears flopped forward. Seth burst into laughter. "Do you think Gertie's objecting to your marriage?" Obviously aghast at his breach of decorum, Trudy gave Seth an owlish glare. Frey shrugged in apparent chagrin. "I'm sorry. I left her tied up on my porch." She looked from the man to his dog... The dog sniffed her fingers. Seeming to approve, she edged closer. Grace rubbed Gertie's head. "If Reverend Norton doesn't mind," she said to the dog, "I'm fine with you remaining for the rest of the ceremony.”

Historical Western RomanceMail Order Bride
Book:Grace: Bride of Montana
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