Wendy the Super Librarian‘s review of Snowflakes and Stetsons by Jillian Hart, Carol Finch & Cheryl St. John
Historical Western Romance anthology published by Harlequin Historical 20 Sep 11

There are certain universal truths when it comes to my romance reading: 1) I love category romance 2) I love westerns 3) I love Christmas-themed stories and 4) I love Harlequin Historical.  So naturally, the diabolical minds at Harlequin have taken it upon themselves to produce an annual Christmas-themed western anthology for the past several years.  I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs and somewhere in the bowels of the Harlequin offices someone is ringing a damn bell.

The Cowboy’s Christmas Miracle by Jillian Hart

Fresh out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit (naturally), Caleb McGraw is looking for the sweetheart he left behind, only to discover she’s passed away. When he learns she left behind a son, he knows that child is his. So he tracks down the tyke living with Caroline Dreyer, a widow still mourning the loss of her husband and child.  She adores Thomas, but can’t seem to reach the boy, who takes to starring out the window, waiting for something or someone.

Hart is what I call an “angst writer” and she really slathers it on with this story.  Both Caleb and Caroline are haunted by their pasts, and even young Thomas walks with a shadow following his every move.  What I like here is that we have a secret baby plot that actually seems quite plausible, and that none of these characters is prone to hysterics.  It’s a real emotional heart-tugger of a read, with a healthy dollop of holiday spirit on the side.

Grade: B

Christmas at Cahill Crossing by Carol Finch

Rosalie Greer owns a dress shop in Cahill Crossing and is on her way back to town with Christmas supplies when a blizzard stops her cold. She comes close to freezing to death when Lucas Burnett’s dog (named “Dog” – seriously) uncovers her in a snowdrift. Lucas is a Loner with a capital L, but can’t very well leave the delectable Rosa to die – so he carts her back to his ranch.

What follows is Rosa thawing out, challenging Lucas at every turn, and dragging him out into society by his nose. Finch tends to spoon on a healthy layer of humor in her stories, which doesn’t always work for me. For the most part, it does here. Some of the dialogue didn’t ring true to me (Lucas actually says “mixed heritage” in regards to his half-Comanche, half-Mexican blood – which sounded a little too “PC” to my ears for 1880s Texas), and the fact the couple likes to jump to conclusions about each other did get tiresome. However, it is a fairly enjoyable story, and it’s a nice taste of the upcoming Cahill Cowboys continuity series.

Grade: B-

A Magical Gift at Christmas by Cheryl St. John

U.S. Marshal Jonah Cavanaugh is on a train guarding a gold shipment when he spies a notorious outlaw on board. Suspecting danger is up ahead in the form of an outlaw gang, he unhooks the the mail car from the train, which is carrying the shipment. When he does that, he also unhooks a well-appointed Pullman car, carrying railroad heiress Meredith Abbott. However, that’s not his only concern. Stowing away in the mail car? Two young orphans heading to Denver to find their long-lost Daddy. Now Jonah has a woman and two children to keep safe, with a band of outlaws sure to be paying them a visit once they hold up the train and find the mail car missing.

What I enjoy about St. John’s stories is that her characters are always practical thinking people. They’re never prone to hysterics or overly dramatic. Meredith might be an heiress, but she’s level-headed, can handle a weapon, and doesn’t waste time senselessly bickering with our hero. The author also crams in a ton of story here and gives readers a nice action-adventure style plot that is a nice change of pace from the other two offerings. The only real missteps here are that one of the orphans (the little girl, naturally) speaks with a lisp (blessedly she doesn’t talk too much!), and I feel the ending is a bit rushed. But it’s still a solid offering, featuring a page-turning plot and interesting characters.

Grade: B

This is a solid, cozy anthology that delivers a warm, fuzzy Christmas vibe. It’s the kind of book that should be read Christmas Eve, with a mug of hot cocoa, by a crackling fire place, after the kids have gone to bed. For that matter, it’s the kind of anthology that can be kept and reread every year right around the holiday season. This one is as-advertised.

Overall Grade: B

Summary:

The Cowboy’s Christmas Miracle by Jillian Hart

Wrongly imprisoned, Caleb McGraw is finally free—but the bitterness he holds still makes him feel trapped. Until he sees the beautiful Caroline holding a little boy with eyes just like his own. Discovering his long-lost son is just the start of Caleb’s Christmas miracles!

Christmas at Cahill Crossing by Carol Finch

One Christmas night, outcast Lucas Burnett finds a silver-haired angel buried in the snow. But Rosalie Greer is no pale spirit—she’s a fiery, independent woman, as wild as the mustangs Lucas breeds. Can she be the one to finally thaw Lucas’s frozen heart?

A Magical Gift at Christmas by Cheryl St.John

Meredith has always dreamed of a grand life but, stranded on a train in heavy snowfall with two young stowaways, she unexpectedly finds she has everything she needs with just one strong man to protect her….

Read an excerpt (Hart story only)

Di’s review of A McKaslin Homecoming (The McKaslin Clan, Series 3, Book 5) by Jillian Hart
Inspirational Romance published by Steeple Hill 1 Jul 07

Any time you need a heartwarming story with remarkable characters, pick up a book by Jillian Hart.  She writes contemporary, inspirational romances with Christian characters, but they’re not overly done as they meet the challenges in the world today.

In A McKaslin Homecoming, Lauren’s mother had taken her as a toddler and fled for L.A., leaving her other siblings behind in Montana.  As a teen when she asked her mother about that time, the answer was always, “We were not wanted.”  Being self-reliant throughout her life, Lauren’s past has made putting her faith and trust in anyone very difficult.

When her long-lost grandmother’s invitation to meet her family comes, Lauren accepts it on faith. So during her summer break from college, she returns to Bozeman, Montana after being away for more than 20 years.  Instead of being greeted by her grandmother, it’s the cautious, rugged, dark-eyed Sheriff Caleb Stone who comes out of the shadows, whisking Lauren off on her first adventure in Big Sky country.

Most of her family is excited and they welcome Lauren during her visit. However, their way of handling the one “sour apple” among their bunch is to ignore Caleb’s opinion.  Then Lauren’s new sister starts treating her as if she just returned from the corner store and wraps her in the fold of sisterhood.  This includes sharing, caring, and most certainly interfering. The love and laughter of sisters sharing and interfering brings smiles with a heartwarming glow as you share Lauren’s becoming a part of this loving family.

For so long Lauren has relied on herself,  so it’s hard to believe others may care about her. Not everyone gives her the warm welcome her grandmother hopes for, though.  Afraid of losing her heart, Lauren holds her thoughts a little too long and everything goes wrong.

Instead of the trust she thinks Caleb has earned from her, Lauren finds she has been deceived. He’s been spending time with her to get information, not because he cares, and all the while she’s been losing her heart to him.   How can she continue to return to visit her family, knowing her heart will break every time she sees him? It seems with all the love and family she has finally found, she has discovered heartache as well.

The loyal, upstanding Caleb Stone is caught in the middle between his close family ties to the McKaslins and his awakening feelings for the returned lost daughter who some are not welcoming home. He reluctantly does what he is asked by a so-called friend, but fears it will destroy any chance he might have with Lauren.

Caleb’s desire and faith drives him to at least try to make things right, and you find yourself cheering him on as he makes his plans. After all, he is the one who has destroyed her fragile faith in trusting for the first time in her life.  Hopefully he can rectify that awful mistake, even if he doesn’t win her trust again.

If you are into inspirational stories, this is a recommended book, along with the other books in this series.  The entire McKaslin family so far covers four different series.  To discover them all, be sure to check out Jillian Hart’s web page.

Grade:A+

Summary:

When contacted by her long-lost grandmother, Lauren McKaslin wanted to reconnect–with all the warmhearted Montana McKaslins. For too long, she’d relied solely on herself and her faith. But mistrustful lawman Caleb Stone stood in the way, and his questions about her were intimidating. Was his attention more than a protective instinct? Now that she believed in family again, perhaps this was also the time to believe in true love.

No excerpt found.

Other books in this series:

Our three blog hosts cum Western Romance experts have taken the time to tell you a little more about their thoughts and feelings concerning this beloved genre of theirs. So sit back and have fun with these ladies as they answer the same questions from their very differing points of view!

Sybil in Sybil-ese:

GREAT WESTERN DRIVE: What was the first western romance you ever read?

SYBIL: No clue. Whirlwind Bride by Debra Cowan is the first western I see reviewed on TGTBTU on 3/14/05, but was nowhere near my first western. Or my first Harlequin Historical. I want to say prolly Nicole Jordan’s The Outlaw or Elizabeth Lowell’s Winter Fire, which lead to the Only Series (Winter Fire is still my FAVE and the only series ROCKS).

BUT back when I read trash (I say that with so much love and why I am confused to this day why romance is called ‘trash’), but from 13 to early 20s (I slowed down around 17 cuz I was verra busy causing trouble, uh I mean working), in between reading all of V.C Andrews, Sidney Sheldon, Daniele Steele, Jackie Collins I read a western romance. All I recall, it’s a cover with a bathtub type thing (barrel like) with the outlaw behind her. She was kidnapped. And uh… that is just about it… This is the time to I read Glitter Baby by SEP.

I always say my first romance was Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale because that is when my OCD blogness started. When I went searching for like minded people, found Maili’s blog and AAR. It is when I started my blogspot and blah blah blah (I warned you I ramble, yes?) AND didn’t figure out until after I was blogging for a few years? that Glitter Baby was THE SEP. So I still don’t really ‘count’ that nameless book.

GWD: Do you have a favorite western romance author?

SYBIL: I have favorites I like to bitch about *g*. No longer writing westerns but SHOULD BE faves would be Susan Kay Law, Maureen McKade, and Dana Ransom.

GWD: How about a favorite western hero? Heroine?

SYBIL: Oh I suck at this type of question, can I phone a friend?

GWD: When reading, what do you look for in the perfect cowboy?

SYBIL: Oh holy hell, these questions were put together while I was dealing with the website cuz yuck. I will go with K and W gave amazing answers and point you to them. [Ed. you could try, Syb!]

GWD: And the perfect cowgirl to go with that cowboy?

SYBIL: Someone who can hold their own…

GWD: How do you know when you’re reading a bad western romance? Are they any signs?

SYBIL: The author takes the idea that alpha means abuses, demeaning, or assholish. But oddly I can read and LOVE Elizabeth Lowell’s old westerns. For some reason they don’t trip my switch as being ‘too much.’

If the characters all sound like they are in 2009, I can’t read that, or if the cheese is just too fantastic. The whole drama over Cassie Edwards was odd to me because her writing seems like such a bad joke, I was not at all surprised it was copy and paste.

GWD: What’s the one thing that will really turn off you when reading a western romance?

SYBIL: LOL the above

GWD: How do you know when you’re reading a good Western

SYBIL: LOL I make it through the first few chapters without a headache from rolling my eyes.

GWD: Is there one Western that stands out above all others?

SYBIL: Ride the Fire by Pamela Clare. There is something about a book that opens with a man pointing a gun at a very pregnant woman demanding she doctor him and she gets the upper hand in the first few chapters.

GWD: Who is the Western Author who no longer writes them that you miss the most?

SYBIL: Oops, I answered this, huh? Did I miss anyone? Lorraine Heath REALLY should come back as well as Patrica Potter

GWD: Why do you think westerns have seen such an ebb and flow over the years?

SYBIL: I think it is totally about glitz and glam. People think west and think of the work, sweat, work, bawdy women, work and go ewwwww I want that pretty, pretty, pretty Regency book. Waltz me baby, which is all well and good, but people tend to forget a lot of the Regency history in those books are painted with the same romance brush as westerns.

Personally I don’t ‘put myself’ into the shoes of the heroine. I don’t want to fall in love with the hero as much as I want to fall in love with the love story. And some of my themes lend themselves so well to westerns – Second Chance stories, Road Romances, ‘Cabin Romances.’ People also forget America had a lot of money and glam in the East, so some of those ‘westerns’ can give them both things. They even have virgins in the west… honest.

Ramblin’ Kristie J:

GWD: What was the first western romance you ever read?

KRISTIE: I’ve been reading Westerns for years, so I can’t remember exactly which one it was – but I have a feeling I was at a UBS looking for Rexanne Becnel and forgot her name and ended up getting a Rosanne Bittner instead. I can’t remember what book it was – but it blew me away and I was hooked from then on.

GWD: Do you have a favorite western romance author?

KRISTIE: Well, Rosanne Bittner *g*. Also Patricia Potter, Cheryl St. John, Lorraine Heath (Westerns only). Those are the ones who first come to mind.

GWD: How about a favorite western hero? Heroine?

KRISTIE: Hero – there are too many to choose from!! Heroines one of my favorites is Miranda Hayes from Outlaw Hearts by Rosanne Bittner.

GWD: When reading, what do you look for in the perfect cowboy?

KRISTIE: I always love a hero who is wrecked for the heroine – in any genre. I also love the tortured hero. Lobo from Patricia Potter is one who fits both those bills.

GWD: And the perfect cowgirl to go with that cowboy?

KRISTIE: As for cowgirls – one who is strong, who doesn’t rely on the hero to bail her out. One who wears dresses for the most part, although I did just finish Stacey Kayne’s latest, Mountain Wild, and she was a trapper yet I really liked her. I think it was because she was forced into her circumstances rather than choosing it. [Ed. See, Sybs, not so hard!]

GWD: How do you know when you’re reading a bad western romance? Are they any signs?

KRISTIE: I started reading one not long ago and the author put in “Western” speak!! It was awful – even worse than Scottish speak. I couldn’t get past the first chapter. It may have been a good story, but I’ll never know. Wooden stereotypes are also annoying.

GWD: What’s the one thing that will really turn off when reading a western romance?

KRISTIE: Bad writing, bad writing, bad writing. As much as I love Westerns, a poorly written book will turn me off.

GWD: Is there one Western that stands out above all others?

KRISTIE: Outlaw Hearts by Rosanne Bittner. If someone asked for my choice for one that embodies most of what I love about the genre, this is my number one pick.

GWD: Who is the Western Author who no longer writes them that you miss the most?

KRISTIE: Lorraine Heath – without question. Her Westerns had a poignancy – every single one – and I don’t think she has captured that as well in her English historicals.

GWD: Why do you think westerns have seen such an ebb and flow over the years?

KRISTIE: I think all genres have an ebb and flow but the Western more so then most. I don’t think a lot of readers have tried them, so they don’t know what they are missing. I think a number of readers who have tried them just haven’t read the right one for them. And I think some readers like being carried away by the fantasy of England. But if they read the right one – and see what a good Western can offer – I think they can be swayed. There are a lot of genres I thought I’d never try and yet when I read that one book, I was converted. And I think there are quite a fan of Westerns who have kind of ‘forgotten’ about them. We are really hoping to reach all those groups with this Drive.

Wendy, the SuperLibrarian:

GWD: What was the first western romance you ever read?

WENDY: Nevada Nights by Ruth Ryan Langan, a 1980s-tastic western romance that I read when I was around 14 years old and the first book I read that had gasp s-e-x in it. This book features some of my favorite old-skool tropes. Convent-raised heroine? Check. Mysterious gunslinger named Colt? Check. Soap opera style plot featuring heroine’s odious long-lost family? Check. I wouldn’t recommend this book to readers today, but, dang, as a doe-eyed teen I flipping loved every single word.

GWD: Do you have a favorite western romance author?

WENDY: Hands down Maggie Osborne. She wrote fantastic heroines and never took the easy way out in her stories.

GWD: How about a favorite western hero? Heroine?

WENDY: This is tough. I have a huge soft spot for Beta heroes, so probably Dillon Hennessey from The Horseman by Jillian Hart. Although I also have a soft spot for younger heroes who feel like they have to ‘prove themselves’ – so on that front I think Austin Leigh from Texas Splendor by Lorraine Heath wins.

GWD: When reading, what do you look for in the perfect cowboy?

WENDY: I’m looking for a hero with a strong moral code. Heroes that, while they might have terrible reputations, will ultimately do what’s right.

GWD: And the perfect cowgirl to go with that cowboy?

WENDY: Generally speaking, I like heroines with gumption. They don’t have to kick ass and rescue themselves necessarily, but I also want them to do more than sit in the corner, ring their hands and cry. A lot of western heroines start out their romances literally up against a wall (and no, not in a good way!) and I like reading about a woman who isn’t going to simply roll over and die or pray for a hero to come along and rescue her.

GWD: How do you know when you’re reading a bad western romance? Are they any signs?

WENDY: There’s a long-lost gold mine in the plot. Seriously. Every terrible western I’ve read tends to feature a long-lost gold mine. Also, there’s a bathing scene. Hero and/or heroine spies the other one taking a bath in a stream, pond, lake, whatever and they get all tingly. Sort of like spies in Regency historicals, the bathing scene has been done to death in westerns and it needs to be taken out behind the barn and shot.

GWD: What’s the one thing that will really turn you off when reading a western romance?

WENDY: Too-stupid-to-live heroines who aren’t dead yet. Look, living in the west was hard. There weren’t a lot of comforts, and for that matter, there wasn’t a whole lot of structured law. When I read about a heroine doing something stupid in a western, I think to myself, “How is she not dead yet?”

GWD: How do you know when you’re reading a good Western?

WENDY: Westerns aren’t all that different from other romance subgenres. I’m looking for what I call the Emotional Gut Punch Moment. That moment when the author takes all the emotion, heartbreak, angst, etc., rolls it up and smacks the reader over the head with it. Every book in my keeper stash has such a moment. That moment where the author literally rips my heart out, resurrects it, and stuffs it back into my chest cavity.

GWD: Is there one Western that stands out above all others?

WENDY: This is tough because I’ve read so many great westerns over the years. I would say Lorraine Heath’s Texas/Leigh brother trilogy, mostly because it’s one of the few times in my life I’ve ever read a series back-to-back-to-back. Also, A Reason To Live by Maureen McKade, just for the sheer emotional intensity of that story. That story knocked me out.

GWD: Who is the Western Author who no longer writes them that you miss the most?

WENDY: Definitely Maggie Osborne, who retired after her last book in 2004. I really admire many of her books and, frankly, I think the romance genre desperately needs more writers like her.

Of authors who are still publishing but have left the west? Probably a toss up between Lorraine Heath and Nicole Jordan.

GWD: Why do you think westerns have seen such an ebb and flow over the years?

WENDY: Demographics have changed. The baby boomers literally grew up on westerns, in books, films, and TV. You couldn’t turn on a TV in the 1960s without tripping over a cowboy. But as time has advanced, publishers (like every other industry) is desperate to court that 18-49 year old demographic, and frankly? Those readers (of which I’m one) didn’t necessarily grow up on westerns. Also, publishers want to make money – so they’ll hop on The Next Big Thing, whatever that is, when it starts to sell. Hey, the western romance was king at one point, but like everything, it couldn’t last forever. Readers got burnt out. They got tired of slogging through crap to get to the gems. So they went looking for something “new.” I think readers will come back to the western, especially those readers hungry for real emotional stories. It’s just going to take publishers willing to take the “risk” and talented authors churning out quality stories.

GWD: And there you have it, Western fans, the be-all, end-all last word of the biggest fans in blogdom about reading those famed Western romances. You ready to gnaw on some bones with these gals?

We had a wonderful day with Jillian Hart during her Duck Chat here at the Pond. Thank you, Jillian!

And now we have winners! Jillian graciously offered up two copies of her Stetsons, Spring & Wedding Rings anthologies, her November release, Gingham Bride, and her December release, The Soldier’s Holiday Vow, both of which will be sent to the winners upon their release.

I used that old hand-dandy random number generator, so may I have a drum roll, please!

Winners of the Stetsons, Spring & Wedding Rings anthologies are:

**Michelle Willingham (9) and Caffey (8)

**Winner of Gingham Bride is Maureen (4)

**Winner of The Soldier’s Holiday Vow is Cheryl C (3)

Congratulations, ladies!  Please send your snail mail address to lighthousetagger (at) gmail (dot) com and we’ll make sure Jillian gets your books on their way to you!

Come on in and have a seat for another Duck Chat!

Harlequin Historical month continues today with Jillian Hart.

Jillian grew up on her family’s homestead on Washington state, near Carnation, Washington, where she raised cattle to pay for her college tuition, rode horses through the pristine foothills of the Cascade Mountain range and scribbled stories in her spare time.

After earning an English degree from Whitman College, she traveled, worked in advertising, taught Sunday school and volunteered before becoming a writer.

Jilian’s latest release is Blind-Date Bride from Steeple Hill, which is part of her McKaskin Family series, which has branched out into four separate series now.

She’s got several books coming out over the next year and she’s going to talk to you about that today. So read on, think of a question or comment or two to leave because Jillian will be giving away two copies each of her current Harlequin Historical anthology, Stetsons Spring & Wedding Rings, which also features Stacey Kayne and Judith Stacy, and her releases, Gingham Bride and The Soldier’s Holiday Vow, in November and December this year! So let’s chat!

DUCK CHAT: You’re going to have a busy year, Jillian! Let’s talk about your newest release, Blind-Date Bride, first. It’s a Love Inspired story and is part of your McKaslin family series and it hits the shelves this month. Can you tell our readers about the series as a whole and then a little about the book itself, please?

JILLIAN HART: First of all, thanks for having me and for all these wonderful interview questions.

My McKaslin Clan series is broken down into sub-series. Each series is a different branch of the McKaslin family, which is set in Montana and centers around not only the romance of each McKaslin heroine but their love and connection as siblings too. Series 4 launches with Bree’s story in Blind-Date Bride. Bree is recovering from the effects of being shot in a robbery the year before and is struggling with post traumatic stress. She gets stood up by a blind date in the same restaurant as the hero, Max, who is stood up too. Max is a detective and has recently moved to Montana to get his teenaged brother he’s raising into a better environment. Max and Bree share a lot in common, and I think their romance is sweet. The rest of the McKaslin family, series 4, is introduced in Bree’s book. I hope readers fall in love with Lil, Colbie and the fam just like I have.

Excerpt from Blind-Date Bride:

It happened again. Another blind date gone wrong. No, worse than wrong. It hadn’t even started.

Brianna McKaslin let the edge of her sleeve slip into place, hiding the watch that said her supposed-to-be perfect match was thirty-five minutes late. And counting.

Thirty-five minutes? Too late to be caught in traffic, not in this part of town. Bozeman, Montana wasn’t that big of a place, so anything over half an hour meant she’d been officially dumped.

Guess what, Bree? He’s not coming. She leaned back in the chair and stretched her feet out under the table. Time to de-stress. This was, what, the third first date in a row to leave her solo in a restaurant? What was with men, anyway? Were they that commitment shy? Or was it something about her?

She took a sip of cooling tea but the soothing heat and sweetness didn’t comfort her. Not one bit. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored display case. An average looking girl stared back at her. She might not possess a stunning fashion sense and or spend hours at a mirror trying to enhance her appearance with a mascara wand and a curling iron. But all in all, she wasn’t so unattractive that she’d sent three poor men running to escape her, was she? Or did men come equipped with x-ray type vision that could see past her plain straight hair and the average girl she was to the deeper flaws inside?

She let out a frustrated sigh. She had a lot of frustration pent-up at the male gender in general. Whatever committed, stable, loving men were out there, they seemed to avoid her like an IRS audit.

She wanted to be married. Settled. Secure. Loved. Was that too much to ask?

Maybe. She straightened up in the chair, brushed the too-long bangs out of her eyes and gave the dregs in her teacup a final sip. I’m not destined to be alone, right, Lord? No answer came blazing down from above. She sure hoped it wasn’t true. Alone was a painful place to be. She set the cup in its saucer with a clink and looked around at the other customers. She studied the few couples, obviously out on dates, seated on opposite sides of the tables, holding hands, leaning over their desserts and specialty coffees, chatting, their gazes locked together.

Could she help it if a sigh of longing escaped? Those couples had been able to find each other. And here she sat alone, the vision of romantic doom.

Maybe chocolate would help. A girl might not be able to count on a man, but a good piece of chocolate never let her down. She twisted in her seat to get a good look at the bakery’s display case packed with comforting sweets. It all looked so good. Maybe she would spring for a slice of triple chocolate cake with fudge frosting. It was one of her favorites, and she had decorated it this morning, since this was also her place of employment. She was working her way very slowly through college.

A blur of movement flashed in the display’s mirror. The blur became a guy lumbering up to the front door–a single dude. Could it be her mystery date? Did she dare hope? She whipped around to get a good look. There was a lanky, rather shorter guy around her age–twenty twoish–with dark shades and slicked back hair. With the black leather jacket and tight pants, he wouldn’t look out of place in a twenty-something motorcycle gang or a gang of any kind.

Definitely not her kind of guy. He was not the man she’d come to meet, right? She ought to go order that wedge of cake, but curiosity kept her watching. The gang guy planted his heavy biker’s boots and scanned the length of the bakery’s dozen bistro tables, wearing the reserved look of a man about to meet with his tax accountant.

She gulped; she couldn’t help it. What if he was looking for her? What if he was Billy, the man her half-sister swore was The One? No, no, no, no. She clutched the wide ceramic mug in panic.

His gaze locked on hers through the glass for one brief, mind-numbing moment. The nose ring dangling from his left nostril twinkled in the late evening sunlight. Not that she was interested, but she couldn’t help wondering. How does one go about kissing a man with a nose ring? Wouldn’t it get in the way? Being a woman looking for marriage, this was an important question.

His black eyes flashed wide in what had to be terror. He jerked his head away, plunged his fists in his jacket pockets and hurried away as fast as his untied boots could carry him.

Disaster avoided. Whew. And if that was Billy, then what had Colbie been thinking? Her sister had described him as a nice Christian man. That’s what Brianna wanted–and one with a good job and an excellent credit history, of course.

Mr. Nose Ring was long gone, but he had been a good reminder. The next time she agreed to a blind date, she would have to be sure and add “no body piercings” to her long list.

Her watch said forty-four minutes after six.

“I notice you’re still sitting alone.” Brandilyn, her twin, set a fresh pot of hot water with a new tea bag on the table and cleared away the empty one. “He didn’t show up?”

Brianna shook her head and reached for the sugar. “He got a good look at me through the window and kept on going. Next time I’m going to sit in the back against the wall, so the dude has to come in and reject me face to face.”

“What kind of guy in his right man would reject you? Goodness.” A great sister, that’s what Brandilyn was, and Brianna cherished her more than anything on this earth. The chime above the door jingled. “Wow. Take a look over your shoulder at the hunk just walking in. Maybe he’s Billy.”

“I see him.” No nose ring. And he looked good. Too good. He was the right kind of tall–not gargantuan but tall enough to look up to with a sigh. His wide shoulders and his granite profile were a dream. He was Mr. Perfect. He could have stepped off the front of a magazine, all rugged good looks and presence. He exuded masculine appeal from twenty feet away as he ran a well-shaped hand through his dark hair.

What would it be like to feel his broad palm against hers? For a nanosecond, she let herself dream that he had come to meet her. That she was the woman he had been waiting for, the one who would capture all of his heart.

Then she decided to get real. “There’s no way he’s Billy. My track record isn’t that good.”

“But prayer is, and I’ve been praying hard for you, Bree. There’s no reason why you can’t find a great guy and be happy ever after.”

If there were any great guys out there. If she didn’t wind up with their mother’s pattern with men. Brianna bit her tongue. Hadn’t she decided to banish those difficult thoughts? She was trying to think positively. After all, she and her sister had something their mother didn’t–faith and prayer.

Brandilyn had a point. There had to be happiness out there for them somewhere. “Isn’t that God’s promise? That He has happiness in store for us, a good future and hope?”

“You’re right,” she told her sister, knowing Brandilyn needed to hear it more than she did. “I’m sure God has something very special in mind for both of us.”

Maybe the kind of close family life that had always eluded them. It was hard when a girl had to raise herself. Bree was infinitely grateful for her twin. They had each other, and that had helped cushion some of life’s harder moments. She had to believe that God would one day lead both of them to good husbands and the family life they both hungered for.

If this dating thing would ever work out, that is. Bree rolled her eyes. Back to the man at the front. She twisted in her chair to get a better look at him. He had stalked up to the counter, waiting his turn in line. As he studied the menu high on the wall behind the counter, his head was tilted back just enough that she could see a cowlick at the crown of his head. He had thick hair that was nicely kept and brushed at the collar of his jacket. He was too gorgeous. No way was he here on a blind date.

“Why don’t I ever get set up with a guy like that?” Brandilyn lamented. “Wait, I already know the answer.”

“A man like that doesn’t need to be set up.” And a girl like her did.

“Waitress?” someone in the back called out.

“Gotta go.” Brandi gave a “too bad” look before she slipped off to check on the customer.

Yes, it was totally too bad. Brianna went back to reading her inspirational romance. Forget Mr. Perfect and concentrate on fictional happy-ever-afters. Those happened much more frequently. She wasn’t even sure if girls like her–who had grown up poor with a childhood full of chaos–ever had the chance for happy endings. All she had was blind faith. And– she smiled up as her twin walked by and left a plate on the table’s edge–chocolate cake.

Excellent. She nudged the plate closer, and a pair of hiking books, scuffed and masculine, came into her field of sight. A strange prickle skidded down her spine, like a warning of doom or a sign of good things to come–she didn’t know which.

“Excuse me. You wouldn’t happen to be Alice, would you?”

It was the handsome guy. His voice rumbled as dark as midnight and deep as an evening storm. With one look into his captivating blue eyes, the power of speech abandoned her. Fabulous. Since she wasn’t Alice, she managed a slight shake of her head.

“No? That’s too bad. All I know is that she’s supposed to be blond.” He shrugged a wide shoulder beneath the dark shirt he wore. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No problem.” Thank the heavens her power of speech returned. “I was waiting for someone too, but I think he spied me through the window and ran away in terror. I must have scared him off, the poor guy.”

“Seems like a dim bulb to me.”

What a nice guy to say that and what a nice grin he had, softening the craggy ruggedness of his features. Wow. “Trust me, it’s for the best. He had a nose ring and a gang attitude. There’s no way it would have worked out past the introduction.”

“I’ve had that happen before.” The left corner of his mouth hooked in a small grin. “That’s why I’ve given up on blind dates. No, don’t say it. This is an exception. One of my best buddies promised I wouldn’t regret this. I hope Alice wasn’t that woman with an orange Mohawk I passed by in the parking lot.”

“Maybe she was looking for the Nose Ring guy.”

“I guess there’s someone for everyone.” When he smiled wider, dimples cut into his lean cheeks.

Double wow. The din from the surrounding tables faded away into silence. For one instant, just for one little millisecond, nothing existed but the tall, righteous-looking man towering over her. He could have walked off the pages of her romance novel. If perfection were a ten, this man was a twenty.

Yep, definitely out of her league. Too bad. She had to get real. She was turning over a new leaf with her realistic but positive thoughts and finding stability in her life–or least she was trying to. That was the plan. The right man was out there somewhere. She had faith, right? A movement outside caught her attention. “There’s someone coming up to the door now. Maybe Alice?”

“She’s not blond. I know it’s none of my business, but why are you waiting for a blind date? You don’t need to be set up. Guys must flock around you.”

“Yes, of course.” She gestured to the space around her table where there where no men flocking. What a thought! She couldn’t picture it. Guys had a tendency to walk right on passed. “I’m surprised you could approach the table with all the guys crowded around me.”

“Beautiful and a sense of humor.” Although he was a tough looking guy, his dimples deepened. Triple wow. “I’m Max.”

“I’m Brianna. It’s nice to meet you. Now tell me why you are on a blind date?”

“I’ve gotten cynical and I can’t keep a girlfriend.” His smile belied his words, and a hint of sadness cut into his face. There was a story there, one she suddenly wanted to hear. Had he been unlucky in love, the way she had? Had he been hurt or deceived? Or did relationships simply never work out for him? “I had a tough break up a long while back and some of my work buddies think I should get out more.”

“Me, too. That’s the argument my sister Colbie used to get me here.”

“Have you ever noticed that the people who set you up on a blind date actually never go out on them?”

“Yes. They don’t have to go through the torture of trying to make conversation with a complete stranger, or finding out again that no, it’s just another date failure.”

“I’ve had a lot of date failures.” He straightened his shoulders a bit as he said that, and she thought maybe he was the problem, she should be glad he wasn’t Billy after all. But then she sighed a little, taking in the responsible, protective look of him.

That was what she wanted, a real man who would treat her right. Who would protect her and make her feel completely safe. After all she had been through over the past year and beyond, that thought felt as welcome as paradise.

“I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “You are not the kind of guy to have date failures.”

“I hate to break it to you, but everyone has a bad dating tale to tell.” He curled his hand over the back of the chair and gave it a tug. “Do you mind?”

“Please, sit and tell me what could possibly have been more disastrous than being rejected on sight by three dates in a row.”

“There was the time I met my work buddy’s wife’s best friend.” He eased into the chair with a fluid motion and an athlete’s confidence. His dark shock of hair tumbled over his brow, making him look rakish. “We all went to the county fair together.”

“Sounds like fun unless you are the type of guy who doesn’t like livestock and fair burgers.”

“You say that like you think I’m not.”

“It did occur to me. You might rather go to a ball game or, wait, a car race track.”

“I don’t approve of speeding.” He gave her his best grin. He didn’t know why he was talking to this woman. Okay, maybe he did. She was adorable with big violet-blue eyes and a sweetheart’s smile. But that wasn’t why he had sat down at her table. There was something more to her, something he couldn’t place his finger on. “The problem was that every time she talked, she mentioned weddings.”

“I get it. You’re a guy who doesn’t believe in commitment, right?”

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re leaping fast to all the wrong conclusions about me.”

“Am I?” She folded a stray strand of light blond hair behind her ear. She had an elegant way of moving, and he liked the combination of casual elegance and nice, hometown girl. Not that he believed in appearances, not with his job. As a detective, he had learned the hard way that no one is what they seemed to be, but he liked thinking it was possible to find a truly sweet woman who was as nice and as guileless as her smile. Not that he believed it.

“I’m one of the good guys. Or I try to be.” That was the truth. He tried as hard as he knew how to walk that narrow straight line. Not easy in this world. “Anyway, I’m with my buddy, his wife and her best friend and I’m on my best behavior. Trying to be suave, you know, impress the lady.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope. Talking and walking was beyond me that day. I ran into a garbage can, a utility pole, miscalculated in the crowd and stepped on the back of my date’s shoe, pitching her forward into the sheep tent.”

“Was she okay? How did the sheep handle it?”

“I didn’t know something harmless and innocent could ram a gate so hard. I got her out of the way just in time, but she had sprained her ankle and cut her hand.” He shook his head. Why was he admitting this? “See, we all have bad dates. But I recovered.”

“Oh, so she forgave you and went on a second date?”

“No, no second dates yet, but I keep hoping.”

“You told me a story to make me feel better, didn’t you? That didn’t really happen. I can’t see it.” Her gaze raked over him, as if she were sizing him up and making her own judgments on his character. “I’m sure women fall at your feet.”

“Only unless I trip them accidentally.” He rolled his eyes. “To be fair, I haven’t done that before or since, but I use it as a yard stick to measure my long string of date failures against. No matter how bad things are, it’s nowhere near as bad as that date turned out.”

“Turned out? You mean there’s more to the story?” She leaned forward expectantly.

Call him a fool, but he couldn’t resist making her smile a little more. She was striking, not just beautiful, and totally wholesome. Maybe it was the soft pink sweater she wore. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she looked like a storybook princess. Not that he was looking for that or would fall for that, but a guy liked to think somewhere there was goodness in the world, that someone somewhere was good through and through.

He felt like a fool, but he went on with the tale. What was his dignity next to seeing the hint of sadness gone from her face? “The final straw was when I slipped down two bleacher steps when we stopped to watch the roping competition. She suddenly remembered an appointment and ran in terror.”

“From the looks of you, I never would have suspected you were such a scary dude.”

“Frightening.” He felt comfortable with her, right off. That was something he never felt around a woman. Then again, maybe it was because he wasn’t actually dating her.

Then it hit him. He knew what it was that had been bugging him about her. He’d seen her before. The snapshot flashed into his head. He saw the image of her face but without the smile and the warmth of laughter in her eyes. Her hair had been shorter then, hanging straight and lifeless, thoroughly wet from the rain. Brianna had been a crime victim. He’d worked on part of the case last summer.

The door opened on a gust of cool air and the bell above the door jangled, cutting through his thoughts. He felt a tingle on the back of his neck, as if someone was looking him over. In walked a tall, well-tailored woman. Her thin leather briefcase was tucked beneath her arm and her designer suit skirt swirled tastefully around her slender calves.

She crooked one penciled eyebrow in silent question.

If this lady was Alice, then Dobbs had gotten it wrong again. Best go deal with this. “I guess I had better go see if that’s my date.”

“Sure, you don’t want someone like that getting away.”

With a wink, he rose from the chair, taking his regrets with him. Only when he really knew to look for them did he see the shadows in Brianna’s eyes.

Her smile was genuine as she gave him a finger wave. “She’s pretty. She could be the one. Here’s hoping.”

Hope? He would need more than that. He was going to need Providence to see him through a piece of cake and a cup of decaf with the woman who should be right for any man, but he knew in his gut if that woman was Alice, she couldn’t be more wrong for him.

He gave Brianna a nod for goodbye and let his feet take him toward the woman waiting for him at the counter.

DC: If you could retire any question and never, ever have it asked again, what would it be? Feel free to answer it.

JH: Where do you get your ideas? I am asked that a lot and I never have a witty or interesting answer. My brain just works that way. Ideas pop into it all the time—grocery shopping, driving, standing in line at the bank. I get a faraway look and people think there is something seriously wrong with me. Growing up, I was always a daydreamer off telling myself a story (while the potatoes boiled dry, crust dried on the dishes and the rest of the family left the restaurant without me). My mom would constantly have to say, “Jill, will you screw your head on tight and pay attention?” LOL. My poor mom . It’s a few decades later (okay, more than a few, but let’s not count, okay?) and nothing has changed.

DC: I’ve heard writers often say their stories take them in surprising directions, or dialogue flows from some unknown place. Is it the same with you? Do your characters surprise you sometimes?

JH: This is exactly what happens to me every day. My characters surprise me all the time. I start out a story on page one thinking I know what’s going to happen and that I’m in charge, only to have the characters and the story take over. Mostly I’m just the scribe copying it all down .

DC: Do you ever argue with your characters while you’re writing? Who usually wins?

JH: I never argue with my characters. I learned long ago my place as the writer. Since the characters always turn out to be right, I follow their lead and have much less rewrites and revisions as a result. Sometimes I need to nudge them toward difficult things (it’s my theory characters, like all of us, want to avoid painful events like black moments), but I always respect my characters and listen to them. These are their stories, after all.

DC: What is sure to distract you from sitting down and working/writing?

JH: Shopping online for books to read. My adorable cocker spaniel (who is very good at coaxing me away from my keyboard for snuggles and cookies). Sunny days.

DC: In June you have a novella, Rocky Mountain Courtship, in the Stetsons, Spring and Wedding Rings anthology. Would give us a look inside Joseph and Clara’s story?

JD: I fell so far in love with Joseph and Clara I did not want that story to end. Rocky Mountain Courtship is book two in my Brooks Brothers trilogy. In this story, the youngest Brooks brother—Joseph—is expecting his mom to find him a pretty bride just like she did for his older brother, Nate. So when a young lady steps off the stage asking for the Brooks family, he assumes she is meant to be his one true love. The trouble is that Clara has come to apply for a maid’s position. She’s down on her luck and hoping for the chance at a good job to improve her life. Clara is sweet and gentle and magical. She’s one of my favorite historical heroines.

Excerpt from Rocky Mountain Courtship:

Montana Territory, 1882

The January snow beat with a fury against Joseph Brooks as he reined his trusty bay to a stop in front of the train depot. Gosh, it was coming down so hard he couldn’t see past Don Quixote’s nose. The stallion picked his way to the hitching post and Joseph swung down, swiping the snow from his eyes. How was he gonna see his new bride in all of this? He would bump into her before he ever set sight on her.

Don Quixote blew out his breath, as if he were warning his master to be cautious. Joseph looped one rein around the log post and rubbed his buddy’s nose. “Don’t you worry. Sure, I’m a sight overeager, but I sure would like a girl of my own. Watching my brother so danged happy is about to do me in.”

Don Quixote stomped his front hoof, as if he had an opinion about why brother Nate was so happy these days. Joseph gave his hat a good tug. The stallion wasn’t wrong. Sure, his brother was happy; he’d married the most beautiful woman in Mountain County and he went to bed with her every night. Not to be disrespectful, but at twenty-two, Joseph sure would have liked to be able to do the same with his own gorgeous wife.

And soon he would. He plowed through the deep snow on the platform steps and felt the rumble of the train through the soles of his boots. Hadn’t his ma and pa been real busy writing and receiving letters the last few weeks? That’s exactly the way it had gone when they had found his sister-in-law Savannah. Ma and Pa had been the ones to bring her out to marry Nate. Nate hadn’t known a thing of it. He thought he was picking up a package for the folks—that was until Savannah stepped foot off the westbound train.

And guess what? His ma had sent him to town to pick up a package. As he tromped closer he could see the faint splash of the train’s red boiler through the snowfall. The westbound train. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if an unbelievably lovely woman stepped off that train and into his arms. With no marriageable females his age in these parts, a person could understand why he was so eager.

“That you, Joe?” A voice called out from one of the package cars.

Joseph squinted. He could just make out a form in the shadowed compartment. “Howdy, Roberts. It’s good to see the train is still running.”

“So far.” The baggage man swung into sight with a box under his arm. “You never know what’s up ahead of us. The summit might be snowed over and we’ll be backing down the grade to spend the night here.”

“I hope you get through.” It was a problem whenever the snow fell so hard: the trains stopped coming until the tracks could be cleared. He thought of the “package” likely to get off the train. Good thing she hadn’t been stranded somewhere. He might not know anything about her, but he knew one thing. Ma wanted pretty grandchildren, so she was likely to pick out an awful pretty gal.

No complaint there. Joseph knocked snow from his hat brim. “Good luck to you, Roberts—”

“Don’t forget this.” He gave the box he carried a toss.

Joseph caught it. A package. How about that?

“For your ma,” the baggage handler explained. “Give her my respects.”

“Sure thing.” Joseph hiked the box under his arm. How about that for a coincidence? He hardly gave it much thought because he saw a slim shadow up ahead of him. The snow veiled her, but she was a petite, delicate lady with one of those fashionable ruffled skirts. She wore a bonnet that hid most of her profile from him. He knew it was her. Joy lit him up down deep.

Now, most fellas didn’t go about letting their ma pick out a wife for them, but he had bought one of those heart-in-hand magazines not long ago and read all the advertisements from women looking for a new life. He had scratched his head, not knowing where to start. Looked like now he wouldn’t have to puzzle it out.

“Howdy, miss?” He used his most polite voice. “Are you looking for the Brooks family?”

“Why, yes I am.” She turned toward him in one slow swirl. He made out the sweet oval shape of her face, a delicate chin and a rosebud mouth before the snow gusted between them, leaving her once again veiled to his sight. If she was half as pretty as her voice, then he was one lucky man.

His heart rocketed around his chest. He fumbled for his hat brim, but his fingers felt stupid and he had to reach for it twice. He swept it off, using what manners he had. “I’m Joseph Brooks. I’ve come to take you in to town.”

“Joseph.” She said his name with a smile.

He liked how that sounded. His blood warmed just thinking of hearing his name on her voice in the dark of night. His chest filled with satisfaction. Gee, but this kept getting better and better.

“I read about you in your mother’s letters.”

“I expect you have.” That pleased him. Ma was good at writing long-winded letters, so it had to be a good sign that this woman knew so much about him and was still glad to meet him. “I’m at a loss, miss, seeing as how I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Clara. Clara Woodrow.”

The snow thinned, allowing him a better glimpse of her face. Big, wide-set eyes stared up at him, unguarded and blueberry blue. A man could lose all common sense staring into those eyes.

Air lodged midway in his chest, and he felt the earth tilt. “That’s a pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“You are a flatterer, Mr. Brooks, but I shall forgive you.” Her voice was gentle with a smile in it. “I can see I will have to have my wits about me whenever you are near.”

“Yes, but I am harmless, I swear it.” A cold arrow of snow slapped against his cheek. He shook his head, suddenly realizing he was standing in the middle of the train platform in a snowstorm. The rumbling idle of the engine, the crunch of pas-sersby in the snow and the bite of the wind had faded and remained in the far distance. All his thoughts and senses seemed held by her.

“Are those your bags?” he asked of the shadows slumped a few paces beyond. When she nodded, he squared his shoulders and did the manly thing: he took care of her. “Let me fetch those for you. I suppose you’ll be staying at the hotel here in town?”

“The hotel? Why, no. I was led to believe Mrs. Brooks had a separate living area for—” She hesitated. “For me.”

“A separate living area?” He hefted up the two rather tattered satchels, careful not to drop Ma’s package. “She must mean the maid’s quarters.”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Well, if that’s what she said, I had best get you home.” He flashed her a grin. “Come with me. I have a horse waiting. It’s too bad it’s so late or I could hire a sleigh from the livery stable. Is horseback all right?”

“Yes, I am simply grateful that you have come, Mr. Brooks. I had fixed in my mind that I would have to ask directions of some kind soul and simply walk until I found your home.”

“Walk? No, it’s much too far. We live miles out of town.”

“Then I’m doubly grateful you are here.” She bowed her head against the resistant wind and followed the wide-shouldered, strapping Mr. Brooks through the drifted snow on the wide platform, a question troubling her. “How did you know I would be here?”

“My mother knew.” He held out his hand. “Careful here, the snow is deep and it’s hard to see the steps.”

“Thank you.” What a kind man. She was not used to this brand of treatment. Her gloved fingertips brushed his broad palm, and through the leather of his driving glove and the wool of her mitten, electricity jolted up her arm and straight to her heart. The step beneath her shoe felt strangely buoyant and she was glad for his steadying hand helping her to keep her balance.

“Are you okay there?” he drawled in his pleasant, smoky baritone.

“Y-yes.” She had no explanation for what had happened. The moment passed and she was on the ground without remembering getting down the rest of the steps. All she could register was Joseph Brooks taking her by the elbow. He guided her through the hail of driving snow and into the wind shadow next to a big bay horse.

“Ma should have told me to bring one of the geldings for you.”

Now that she was close enough without the snow between them, she could see he was charmingly handsome. The broad rim of his Stetson framed his rugged face to perfection. He had a high intelligent forehead, or at least she imagined so behind the fall of his longish brown hair. His eyes were dark and full of good humor. His nose was a masculine slope, not too sharp and not too big, just right for his granite face.

He would look imposing, she decided, if not for the warm ready grin that seemed to permanently shape his mouth. A dimple sat in his chin like a cherry on a sundae, topping off what was perfection. Not that she should be thinking this way about her possible employer’s son.

At least, she hoped she had a chance for the job. Desperate was a word she didn’t like to use, but with less then ten dollars in her pocket she could not be called anything else. She had come here on chance alone, and she wasn’t the most optimistic of girls.

He hung the handles of her satchels over the saddle horn. “Do you know how to ride, Miss Clara?”

“No, sir.” There had been no need living in Chicago, where she could easily walk wherever she needed to go. Walking was probably not something she could easily do here. There had been so many tiny towns along the railroad line through the western territories, she had done her best to imagine what it might be like to live in a place like this, remote and wild, surrounded by nature instead of people and buildings. Trees were everywhere she could see, tall, white-mantled sentries guarding the street.

“Do you at least know how to keep your seat?” His eyes had slight, pleasant crinkles in the corners as if he spent a lot of his life laughing. He must be the sort who looked on the bright side of things.

She liked that in a man. “Mr. Brooks, I have to confess. I’ve never been on a horse. I don’t know how to drive, either.”

“Then I shall teach you.” He secured the satchels and package to his saddle. “You are going have to get used to riding and driving if you plan to spend any time with me.”

“Then I’ll look forward to it.” Why she said such a thing, she couldn’t rightly say, but he didn’t seem to think less…

DC: How do you feel your male or female characters have evolved over your career? Do you think you write them differently now than you did when you started?

JH: This is an excellent question! I have no idea. In a way I think my characters do stay the same. My first hero was Jacob in Last Chance Bride—alpha, embittered, stubborn. My second hero was Cooper in Cooper’s Wife—a good father, easy to laugh, a responsible sheriff. Two very different male characters, but I think representative of the kind of hero I like to write—a good man, decent but flawed, and strong enough to overcome those flaws. A man strong enough to be tender. My heroines, I think, are very similar because I like the idea that good, average girls can be the heroines of their own stories and find true love. That nice girls can finish first.

DC: Your Love Inspired historical, Gingham Bride, is due out in November. May we get a sneak peek into this book?

JH: Of course! I am so excited about this book. It is the first in a series I have wanted to write for several years about six heroines who are best friends and gather together weekly for a sewing circle. Gingham Bride is Fiona’s story, a down-on-her-luck farm girl who learns her family expects her to marry the groom they’ve chosen for her. An arranged marriage is not her style—this is 1883, not the 1700s. But little does she know Ian McPherson is her perfect match in every way and her only chance for happily-ever-after.

DC: Is there a genre you haven’t tackled but would like to try?

JH: I would love to write bigger books about women’s stories and family sagas.

DC: And to round out the year, you have another Love Inspired being released in December. That’s titled The Soldier’s Holiday Vow and looks as though it’s a spinoff from the McKaslin series. Would you tell us about the new series involving the Grangers and tell us a little about Hawk’s story?

JH: Thanks. I would love to. I’m very excited about the Grangers, who live on a cattle ranch. That’s how I grew up, so writing these stories is like returning home for me. The Grangers are down-to-earth people with strong family ties and a love of their land, and their series is a sweet one as each brother and sister in the series helps their dad find true love.

In The Soldier’s Holiday Vow, Hawk is an Army Ranger who meets up with the former fiancée of his best friend (Tim Granger, who died in service to our country) and helps the heroine, September, move past her grief to begin living and loving again. Hawk is a courageous, deeply good man, and September is compassionate and enchanting. I hope readers think so too.

DC: What advice would you give to your younger self?

JH: Enjoy the journey and don’t worry so much (I’m a worrier).

DC: If you had never become an author, what do you think you would be doing right now?

JH: I would have finished my schooling and have been a clinical psychologist with my own practice.

DC: Anything else on the horizon for Jillian Hart?

JH: Things have gotten busy for me. I’m finishing my McKaslin series four and I’ve got a fifth and final series of the clan outlined. I’m concentrating on the Granger family, two books are scheduled for 2010, and then there’s my final Brooks brother to write and my historical sewing circle series that I’ve just started (Buttons & Bobbins). All this is keeping me seriously busy for a while. My horizon is cluttered and I’m very grateful!

Lightning Round:

- dark or milk chocolate?   – Dark for a treat, milk chocolate for everyday.

- smooth or chunky peanut butter?    – Smooth. It spreads easier! Chunky, if I’m eating directly out of the jar

- heels or flats?    -  I’m klutzy so I have to settle for flats.

- coffee or tea?    – Definitely coffee by the vat, sweetened with that flavored creamer stuff.

- summer or winter?    – I’m a summer girl all the way.

- mountains or beach?    -  Beach.

- mustard or mayonnaise?     -  Mayonnaise.

- flowers or candy? Flowers.    – Preferably white and pink roses.

- pockets or purse?    – Definitely purses big enough to carry a book in!

- Pepsi or Coke?    – Pepsi.

- ebook or print?    -  I love my e-reader, but it will never replace print for me. There’s just something satisfying about cuddling up a print book in hand.

And just because…

1. What is your favorite word?    – Chocolate

2. What is your least favorite word?    – Cellulite

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?   -  Beautiful summer mornings

4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?    -  Negativity

5. What sound or noise do you love?    – Birdsong

6. What sound or noise do you hate?    – The beeping sound big trucks make when they back up.

7. What is your favorite curse word?    – Crap. I use it way too much! And I try never to swear. Yikes!

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?   -  Being an English literature professor.

9. What profession would you not like to do?    – Anything in the medical profession—I’m not so good with blood or pain!

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?    – “You were kind–good job.”

DC: Jillian, thank you so much for spending the day with us!

Wendy the Super Librarian‘s review of In a Mother’s Arms by Jillian Hart and Victoria Bylin
Inspirational historical romance anthology released by Steeple Hill 14 Apr 09

It’s been bittersweet for me as a western romance fan that while secular imprints have been ignoring the sub-genre, it’s positively booming in the inspirational romance market. Like a lot of secular romance readers, I’ve been hesitant to give inspirational romances a chance because of the fear that the authors will drop the ball on story content and instead preach to me. 

When I pick up a romance novel, I’m just not looking to be converted. But I felt I had to give the sub genre a chance, and figured the In A Mother’s Arms anthology was a good place to start. After all, both Jillian Hart and Victoria Bylin have written some excellent Harlequin Historical novels – so I knew they were capable of giving me a good story. I was happy to discover that both of them did here as well, although with varying degrees of “God stuff” thrown into the mix.

Finally A Family by Jillian Hart

After losing both her husband and child to illness, Molly McKaslin is working three jobs, scraping by, and living in a shack on her cousin’s property. It’s a lonely life, and Molly is haunted by the tragedies of her past. Then one day the precocious Frost twins come barreling into her life, along with their pet cow, Sukie . The girls are painful reminders of all that Molly has lost, but she can’t help but by charmed by their antics, and their stoic father, Dr. Sam Frost.

This story features one of my least favorite plot devices – the cutesy tots who play matchmaker for their single Daddy and/or Mommy. However, Hart writes the twins so well that’s it hard to not find the little hellions adorable. Even a cynic like me couldn’t help smiling. The author keeps the “God stuff” relatively minimal (the characters attend church, pray at meals etc.), but doesn’t really beat the reader over the head with it. I did think the romance was a little light in the pants. Even though the characters say otherwise, part of me still couldn’t help thinking that Molly and Sam hook up because she’s desperate for a family and he’s desperate for his girls to have a Mommy. Still, it’s a pleasant and sweet story.

Grade: B-

Home Again by Victoria Bylin

Cassie O’Rourke hopped a train for Chicago to become an actress and proceeded to leave her sweetheart, Gabe Wyatt, at the altar. That was 14 years ago, and now she’s back in town with her son, Luke, to take over her father’s general store. However not everyone in town is happy to see her. A nasty old biddy is spreading malicious gossip about her, nobody is shopping at her store, and Luke has just been hauled off to the jail for breaking a church window. That’s where she finally faces Gabe, who has never stopped loving her.

The “God stuff” in this story is much more prevalent than in the Hart entry, and at times it did feel intrusive. There’s even a moment where a character breaks out a Bible story to share with Cassie. That said, this is a really good story and, I’m not above admitting it, there’s a moment towards the end that had me openly weeping. Bylin has a knack for pushing all the right emotional buttons, and she does it to marvelous effect here. I did feel the turn-around of the nasty woman spreading rumors about Cassie was really abrupt, but the romance is solid and tugs all the right heart-strings. The secular reader just has to be willing to wade through the “God stuff” to get to the pay-off.

Grade: B-

I like to occasionally cleanse my reading palate with a sweeter read, and this anthology certainly fit the bill without being sugary or saccharine. It’s the kind of book that had me wishing that my devout grandmother were still alive so I could share it with her. I’m not converted, but I’m more than open to reading more inspirational offerings by both of these authors.

Overall Grade: B-

Summary:
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Finally a Family by Jillian Hart
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Widow Molly McKaslin won’t marry for less than true love. But does handsome town doctor Sam Frost want a wife, or a housekeeper for his daughters? With the help of two little matchmakers, Molly might end up with the family of her dreams.
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Home Again by Victoria Bylin
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When her troublemaking son vandalizes the town church, Cassie O’Rourke comes face-to-face with town sheriff—and former love—Gabe Wyatt. The honorable lawman offers to help tame her wild child, if he can come courting. For the love of her son, dare she entrust her heart to this man once more?
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Read an excerpt (Hart story only.  No excerpt found for Bylin story)

TGTBTU has the pleasure of presenting (three or four) up coming Harlequin Historical anthologies for you to add to your ‘I WANT’ list:

Hallowe’en Husbands: “Marriage At Morrow Creek,” “Wedding At Warehaven,” “Master Of Penlowen” by Lisa Plumley, Denise Lynn, Christine Merrill (we will have their guest posts this weekend as well).

The Magic Of Christmas: “A Christmas Child,” “The Christmas Dove,” “A Baby Blue Christmas” by Carolyn Davidson (sniff don’t think she is coming), Victoria Bylin (guest 6/25/08), Cheryl St.John (guest 6/23/08)

Both of these novels come out in Oct 08 and we will be posting excerpts from Hallowe’en Husbands this weekend as well.

One Candlelit Christmas: “Christmas Wedding Wish,” “The Rake’s Secret Son,” “Blame It On The Mistletoe” (Harlequin Historical Series) by Julia Justiss, Annie Burrows, and Terri Brisbin

And we know that Jillian Hart will be in an HH antho in the spring of 2009 with Rocky Mountain Courtship (Joseph’s story). I don’t think we have the name yet or the other authors in the antho… or did we? Anyone? anyone?

My question to readers are do you like the Harlequin anthologies? Have you ever purchased one? Have you tired one from the Harlequin Historical Line?

If you are an author have you ever written an anthology? Tell us about it. Did you enjoy it? Did the story turn out like you wanted or were you disappointed in it? And of course if you are a Harlequin Historical author and have written one you MUST answer and tell us all about it .

And a question for anyone (wearing any hat: reader or author ) – it the response I liked it but wanted MORE or it ended too quickly… is that the sign of a good novella or poor execution of the story type. Should we be left always wanting more?

Wendy the Super Librarian‘s review of Western Weddings by Jillian Hart, Kate Bridges & Charlene Sands
Historical romance anthology released by Harlequin Historical 1 May 08

Many readers don’t care for anthologies because they can be wildly uneven affairs. I tend to think of them as my comfort reads. I find anthologies just the ticket for when my brain is mush, my attention span is on par with the life cycle of a fruit fly, and the mere thought of any story over 100 pages causes my blood pressure to spike. Couple that with my love affair for Harlequin Historical westerns, and it’s no wonder that I plowed through Western Weddings in record time.

Rocky Mountain Bride by Jillian Hart

This features the well-worn plot device of the mail-order bride that the “groom” knows nothing about, but Hart makes it fresh by writing a fabulous heroine. Savannah Knowles is a nice Southern girl with nothing left. The Civil War took everything, and after the death of her beloved grandmother, she is without any kin of her own. So she decides to become a mail-order bride, corresponding with Nate Brooks for a year, falling in love with him and his boisterous family, before agreeing to travel to his home in Montana Territory. Too bad Nate had nothing to do with those letters, and the whole thing was orchestrated by his well-meaning, albeit meddling, parents.

This story works well because Savannah has gumption. While she was technically courted by Nate’s parents, she quickly realizes that she actually did fall in love with the real him. Now to convince him of that fact, and salvage what is left of her pride.

Grade: B+

Shotgun Vows by Kate Bridges

Fans of Bridges’ Klondike/Mountie series will recognize characters Milly Thornbottom and Mountie Weston Williams, who get their own romance in this story. Milly used to have a horrible crush on Weston, but is fed up with him treating her like a little girl. So she attends the annual Spring Fever dance in hopes of catching another beau’s eye. Unfortunately, she soon finds herself standing before a preacher after her daddy catches her in an embrace with Weston. Faster than you can say shotgun wedding, these two are married. Now to make the best of it amid the swilling gossip.

I suspect fans of Bridges’ series will get more enjoyment out of this tale than the casual reader. It’s a pleasant enough read, but I felt the conflict was a little too big for an anthology story – and frankly, I wanted Milly to stay hopping mad at her daddy for a good long time.

Grade: C+

Springville Wife by Charlene Sands

Sands’ entry features one of my least favorite plot devices – the precocious child who works overtime to find her daddy a wife. Grace Lander is a widow still haunted by the death of her husband and unborn baby. She returns home to Texas to become the new school teacher, only to run into her childhood nemesis Caleb Matlock. Caleb is the most eligible bachelor in town, but hasn’t remarried even though he’s raising his niece. Sparks fly, and besides the niece, Grace’s darling auntie is determined to have these two hook up.

This story actually worked pretty well for me, even though I tend to dislike precocious matchmaking children. The problem comes later in the story, when the plot morphs into a bad daytime soap opera. Grace’s bereavement is really enough conflict for a story, and the added bit of over-the-top drama left an unsavory taste in my mouth.

Grade: C

I found Western Weddings a pleasant way to spend a lazy afternoon. The stories flew by at a nice clip, were well-written, and were the very definition of comfort reads for this western lover. Hart continues to write interesting characters, and the other two stories were fast reads, even with my minor quibbles.

Grade: B-

Summary:

Rocky Mountain Bride by Jillian Hart
Savannah Knowles arrives in Montana expecting to marry Nate Brooks, but he has never heard of her! Can this quiet man find room in his heart for lonely Savannah?

Shotgun Vows by Kate Bridges
Milly Thornbottom has a crush on Mountie Weston Williams, and one stolen kiss changes their lives! After they’re marched straight to the altar, can her crush possibly develop into more?

Springville Wife by Charlene Sands

Grace Lander returns to Springville to pick up the pieces of her life and become the town’s schoolmarm. Single father Caleb Matlock’s kiss may be just what Grace needs to mend her heart and make a home!

Read excerpts: Jillian Hart, Kate Bridges.

Like a lot of readers I have a tendency to “collect” authors. Being a huge fan of the Harlequin Historical line, it should be no surprise then that I have several lengthy backlists sitting in my TBR pile. One of those authors is Jillian Hart, and it was during a conversation with Sybil a while back that she mentioned how much she enjoyed her HH titles. That was enough for me. I pulled out my copy of The Horseman and fell desperately, hopelessly in love. As part of TGTBTU’s month-long spotlight on Harlequin Historicals, Ms. Hart agreed to sit down to an interview. Enjoy!

Wendy the Super Librarian: Like a lot of writers, you mention in your bio that you “scribbled stories in your spare time.” When did you get “serious” about your writing, and look towards publication as a goal? How long did it take from when you got “serious” to your first sale?

Jillian Hart: I think it took me about five years after I made the serious decision to work towards publication. Although I do think it was all that scribbling over the years that made a difference when I decided to get serious. I was very fortunate to land at Harlequin Historicals. I am deeply grateful to the editors who bought me and who taught me so much about writing. Those editors and the line hold a dear place in my heart.

WtSL: You have a deep and impressive backlist, with your McKaslin Clan series being a big cornerstone. When you wrote that first book, did you imagine the series would take on a life of its own? Did you plan it that way, or was it a happy accident?

JH: When I wrote that first book, I had no idea that the heroine’s sisters, and, later, cousins would became the McKaslin Clan. I loved writing that book, some books are just closer to your heart than others, and I wanted to go back and revisit that family. When I submitted the proposal for the sisters’s books, Joan Marlow Golan, who is now the executive editor of Steeple Hill books, named the series The McKaslin Clan. I would not have the same backlist and writing opportunities without Joan’s support and guidance, along with my own wonderful editor and the line’s supportive senior editor. I am very grateful to all three of them. So, nope, I had no idea what I was getting in to when I wrote the first McKaslin story, but it was (as you say perfectly) a happy accident.

WtSL: I think you wrote one of the quintessential beta heroes in Dillon Hennessey (The Horseman). That being said, I remember wanting Nick Gray in High Plains Wife to grovel to the point where his knees were bloody stumps! You obviously have no problem creating divergently different characters! Can you tell us a little bit about your process for creating your characters?

JH: My process for creating characters is very simple. I don’t create them as much as I let them come to me. Sounds a little weird, doesn’t it? I mostly start with a kernel or truth – just one that is powerful or defining, let it simmer, add to it, and let it simmer some more. It often takes a couple of these kernels before I begin to truly feel a character and hear their distinctive voice. For Dillon’s character, I liked the idea of a strong, good man who was shy. After letting this mull, I realized a man like that might be gifted with horses; he might work with his heart and not with force and treat others that way too. I let that simmer. And so on. I guess I try to find what makes the character unique and an individual, regardless of type or role, and do my best to get him on the page. And thanks for your kind words.

WtSL: I was blown away by your publication schedule for the rest of 2008 (5 books and an anthology story)! Is this the busiest writing year on record for you or did everything just fall into place for 2008?

JH: It was definitely my busiest writing year at Harlequin on record! Yikes. I’m grateful to my editors for being so enthusiastic in their scheduling, and I had the best time of my writing career. I put in quite a few long work days, but I got to meet some characters I fell in love with and stories I was transported to. Not surprisingly, I’ve taken a few months off completely, and have just started back to work. My 2009 year is much lighter!

WtSL: I have to ask, because Sybil and I are such big fans of your Harlequin Historical writing. Lately you’ve been very busy writing for Harlequin’s inspirational Love Inspired line. Any plans to return to HH?

JH: I actually have never technically left Harlequin Historical, although it looks like it since I haven’t had a book out in ages. I worked myself into burn-out. Not good. I know! I didn’t see it coming and then it was like hitting a wall. There were no words left. I was devastated. My editors were wonderful. They amended my contract giving me time to recover and contracted me for shorter anthology stories, which were meant not to be too taxing. I was able to write contemporary stories, which was a great relief. I was still writing, so I knew the historical words would come back. It was just a matter of resting that part of my writing muscle. When I was asked to write for the new Love Inspired historical line, I couldn’t say no. The editors, knowing of my burn-out, were exceedingly patient and generous when I went past my deadline, but the words were coming, so that was at least good. I feel like I’m through the worst, but I’m keeping my historical schedule very light for the next few years. I have two more anthologies coming out for HH, one scheduled for next spring and one undetermined. Both will be Brooks brothers stories. After I finish my current contract, we’ll see what the future holds. I will always want to write for HH. Like I said, the line is dear to me.

WtSL: Given that you’ve written contemporary inspirational stories, and historical romances, how excited were you when Harlequin announced plans for their Love Inspired Historical line?

JH: Very. I had been hoping for a line like that ever since Love Inspired was launched over ten years ago. I had several stories that felt too sweet for HH that I had never written, but wanted to. It was a perfect fit for those stories.

WtSL: Tell us a little bit about the books readers can expect from Jillian Hart this summer.

JH: I have the continuation of the series 3 McKaslin Clan out in June and August. Her Wedding Wish is Danielle’s story, and Her Perfect Man is Rebecca’s. I loved writing those stories for different reasons. It was a challenge to write Danielle’s story because of her husband’s disabilities and the sadness of a man not being able to remember his wife and his children. Her Perfect Man was fun, taking me back to a time when I worked at a summer day camp when I was a college student. High Country Bride is a July release from Love Inspired Historicals, and I totally fell in love with the hero, Aidan. The sample chapters will be up on my website soon if you want to take a peek.

Thanks for taking the time to interview me.

WtSL: Thank you Jillian!

Western Weddings by Charlene Sands, Kate Bridges, and Jillian Hart

We have a very nifty interview with Jillian Hart going up today at 11am. She has a ton of books coming out, most with Harlequin’s inspy lines, but she hasn’t forgotten about Harlequin Historical. She was apart of the Western Wedding‘s antho in May (review coming as well as Charlene and Kate will be guests this month) and will have another antho coming up in 2009 (a bit more info after the excerpt).

Rocky Mountain Bride by Jillian Hart

Savannah Knowles arrives in Montana expecting to marry Nate Brooks, but he has never heard of her! Can this quiet man find room in his heart for lonely Savannah?

Snow. Savannah Knowles had never seen so much of it. It was everywhere–sifting through the air and clinging to the roof of the train depot and crunching at the platform beneath her feet. She gathered her courage, gripped her satchel by the patched handle, shivered inside her traveling coat and squinted into the last light of the April evening. She could see only the shadowed impression of dense forests through the downfall, but nothing more of her new home.A few men stood against the ticket station, veiled by the icy snow. Was her Mr. Brooks one of them, the man she’d come to marry? She lifted her chin, watching each scowling face or curious look, but no one moved toward her.He wasn’t here yet, but he would be. She had faith in him. Of all the letters she’d received from her advertisement, his had been the most sincere. He was her last hope. She was out of options and out of money, which is why she’d come to this strange rough country with its rugged mountains and unfathomable weather. A keen-edged gust of wind sliced through her layers of clothing, cold enough to freeze the insides of her bones.

Goodness, she’d never felt such cold. Already she missed the sweet gentle warmth of a Carolina spring. Snow caught on her eyelashes and stung her face as she picked her way through the accumulation of snow and ice to the baggage car. Every bit of her ached with homesickness and with hope.

“Hey, there, Miss!” A gruff man barked out from the cavern of the opened railcar. “This one yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mighty fancy trunk for these parts.” The railroader lifted his lip as if in distaste or something worse and tossed down her trunk with a careless heave.

My books. She watched the precious container crash onto the platform. It skidded on the ice and tipped over to rest on its side–still in one piece.

A stroke of luck. Snow battered the finely crafted side of the trunk, but the contents inside were safe at least, and not scattered over the icy platform. All that was left of her family’s great library, collected for generations, the volumes with sentimental value too great to sell. Hard times had fallen, after the War Between the States.

Suddenly, the biting wind hailing against her back seemed to lose its teeth. Before she could turn around, she sensed a tall presence behind her. Her stomach slid to her toes. Mr. Brooks? Could it be him?

“Hope nothing breakable was in that.” His gaze met hers and, despite the haze of snowfall between them, she felt a snap of recognition.

Those dark blue eyes were exactly as he’d described them in his letters. Her pulse fluttered in her chest. She’d memorized his features from his self-description, and he’d been surprisingly accurate. He had a granite face, a square jaw and a serious expression just as she’d pictured, but he was taller than she imagined. Maybe it was his bulky coat and the shroud of snow, which made him look like a giant bear of a man, but it was him. Her Mr. Brooks.

He’d come for her, just as he’d promised. Happy relief washed through her, warm enough to chase away every chill. At first sight, he looked as dependable as she’d made him out to be. “Nathaniel Brooks?”

“Uh, yep. That’s me.”

She couldn’t breathe as he gave her a simple smile–sincere and respectful. Instead of greeting her, maybe taking her by hand, or offering to carry the satchel she carried, he looked past her to the baggage man.

“Hey, there, Roberts.” Mr. Brooks spoke in a cozy, friendly baritone. “You got a bundle coming for my pa? Something from Savannah?”

Oh, he had other business, too, she thought, a little disappointed, waiting patiently. Maybe he was preoccupied with that?

The baggage man straightened and gave the small of his back a two-handed rub. “What kind of bundle?”

“Pa said it was a surprise, but I’m not one for surprises. He ought to know that.”

The baggage man shook his head, ready to slide closed the cargo door. “Sorry, Nate. I’ve got nothing else for this stop. Just the woman. Good luck.”

“Just the woman?” He looked perplexed as he studied the other end of the platform. It was as empty.

The only other passenger who’d disembarked had already left, and she realized the men who’d been standing in the shadows of the depot had disappeared, perhaps seeing nothing had arrived for them. But why was Mr. Brooks acting as if he didn’t know anything about her?

This couldn’t be right. Shouldn’t the man who proposed to her remember? Maybe she’d better try again. “Mr. Brooks? I’m pleased to meet you in person. I’m Miss Savannah Knowles.”

When he looked at her, no recognition sparked in his dazzling eyes. “You’re from Savannah?”

“No, that’s my name.” Why did he seem so confused? “I knew you wouldn’t keep me waiting.”

“Waiting?” He looked at her as if he didn’t understand the English language. “You’re Savannah?”

“That’s right.” This was not going the way she’d imagined. Her heart tumbled to her toes. Shouldn’t the man who’d paid for her railroad ticket look less mystified? A knot tightened in her midsection. “You’ve come for me, isn’t that right?”

“For you? You’re a woman, not a bundle.” He knuckled back his hat with one gloved hand. He seemed to have no recollection of who she ought to be.

She started to shake–from cold or nerves, she didn’t know which. “This is Moose, Montana Territory? I did get off at the right station?”

“Yes, Miss.” His gaze raked from the tip of her snow-covered bonnet all the way to her icy skirt ruffle. “Did my mother hire new help? Is that why you’re here?”

“Your mother? I don’t understand. You don’t know who I am.” The wind gusted mockingly, and her high hopes crumbled.

You’re a fool, girl, her grandmother’s lawyer had told her. You’re chasing after a paper promise, when I’m offering you a home with all the luxuries you could want–

She closed her mind against the memory and the old man’s vein-lined hands, the man who’d offered her marriage and payment of her grandmother’s debts. Surely, she’d not make a mistake in coming so far. “Maybe we’re not talking about the same man. This Nate Brooks owns the feed store in town. He’s–”

“I own the feed store in town.”

“He’s twenty-nine years old. He was born on New Year’s Day.”

“That’s me. As far as I know, I’m the only Nathanial Brooks in these parts anyhow. How do you know so much about me?” His face was hard granite.

She would have thought him angry but for the pain she saw in his dark, kind eyes.

“We’ve been corresponding.” She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering as she tugged the envelopes, tied with a gold ribbon, from her pocket. She held them out with a shaky hand, feeling the beat of the snow against her face, hearing it against the arm of her coat as she waited a long moment for him to take the letters. The icy-cold crept into the hollows of her heart. She’d come all this way with nothing to go back to and no other place to welcome her. Surely, had has to be some explanation. Some misunderstanding of sorts and then it would come out all right in the end.

But with the way the wind howled like a lonely wolf as it gusted around her, she wasn’t so sure.

The bear of a man took the letters. He knocked the snowflakes from the parchment with his leather-gloved knuckles and squinted to study the handwriting. “That’s my name but not my address.”

“It isn’t? I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t write to you.”

“Then who did? And why?” Her satchel slipped from her grip and hit the platform beside her with a muted thunk. “You proposed to me. I came all this way to marry you.”

“M-marry?” He choked on the word. No. No. No. It rose up like a wellspring from his very soul right along with a blinding panic. It was so dark, he could barely make out the familiar handwriting on the top envelope. The ink was beginning to smear from the snow, but there was no mistaking the truth. Not only did he know who’d written these letters, but also he could plainly see this woman had nearly traveled all the way across the country. What would prompt a delicate looking woman to risk a trip all that way?

Sure, a proposal of marriage would. He tried to think past the rush of horror pounding through him and–beneath the panic–the pain of his last and only intention to marry. It was the hurt Adella left him with, that was the reason for the panic, but this little woman didn’t know that.

The woman–Savannah–looked at him with pure hurt in her soft sweetheart’s face. “I see that idea of marrying me horrifies you. I’ll just–”

“Wait.” He bit out the word with venom she didn’t deserve. Calm down, he told himself and took a single deep breath, which was hard to do considering he was still in a blind panic. Not all marriages were awful; he knew this. But after his experience, he wanted nothing to do with it. “Obviously I knew nothing about this–this–m-marriage offer. Without warning, a remark like that can scare a man.”

“I don’t understand. Is this someone’s idea of a practical j-joke?” Her soft voice broke on the last word. “I was so sure. The letters were so wonderful. Too wonderful. Maybe that’s what fooled me. I wanted to believe–”

The hurt and confusion so honest in her pretty blue eyes chased away most of his panic. None of this was her fault. “This is my father’s handwriting.”

“Your father’s?” She held up her hands in a helpless gesture, so small and alone. “I don’t understand.”

How could she? He didn’t have a chance to answer, for the train gave a powerful blast of steam and noise and churned on its way. The rumble of the powerful engine vibrated through the soles of his feet. He watched the cars pull away and the caboose slip out of sight.

Pa probably laid it on thick, judging by the fatness of the envelopes. Nate shook his head, and snow rained from his hat brim. How could his father–who was a decent man–do such a thing? A bundle, that’s what his youngest brother had said. There’s a bundle waiting for you from Savannah.

He still didn’t see how could the “bundle” be the pale, delicate looking Southerner in front of him looking like a rose out of season. Not that he could see much of her with the snow falling with a vengeance, but she was shivering in the cold, too fine and lacking enough common sense to have worn warmer clothes to this high country.

Nate flicked the gathering snow off the letters and handed them back to her, noticing the dark tips of her expensive traveling gloves. He didn’t have to unwrap that cloak to know what he’d find beneath it: the fashionable clothes and shoes, with no expense spared.

If his folks had gone to the trouble of bringing a bride all the way to Montana Territory, then couldn’t they have at least tried to find one that wasn’t just like Adella? What did a man who worked hard for his daily living have to offer a delicate lady?

Not a damn thing. He swallowed down the bitterness and debated what to do. It wasn’t the woman’s fault she’d come all this way on a false promise, and he couldn’t leave her alone in the cold.

“Why w-would your f-father do th-this?” She trembled so hard, her words trembled, too.

“My parents have decided it’s about time I marry.” He began unbuttoning his coat. “The trouble is, we’ve had a difference of opinion–”

“What kind of difference?”

“I’m not partial to the institution of marriage.”

“Did your father write me thinking that you might change your mind once I arrived?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. My folks been talking about taking matters into their own hands. I didn’t put much stock in their teasing. I didn’t think they would actually find me a woman.”

She looked down at her shoes, and he hoped she wasn’t trying not to cry. He didn’t know how to deal with a crying female. He shrugged out of the heavy buffalo coat and there were tears in her eyes. He felt helpless. Too big. Too rough. Too…everything.

She gazed down the empty train tracks. “I wish I w-would have known that sooner.”

“The storm’s getting worse. We just can’t leave you here on the platform. You look mighty cold.”

“Cold? Sir, this is hardly c-cold. This wind would fr-freeze the fires of H-hades.”

“True, but you get used to it after awhile. I reckon my pa didn’t write about the weather here?”

“N-no.” She was shaking so hard, she could barely speak. It wasn’t only due to the biting artic temperatures. She lifted her chin, refusing to let this man know how crushed she was. She might not have much left, but she did have her pride. “I’m sorry to have troubled you. It was good meeting you, Mr. Brooks.”

“Now, wait one minute.” He closed the distance between them, towering over her, blocking the brunt of the wind. “It’s nearly dark. You shouldn’t be wandering around town alone.”

He was close. Too close. She could see the day’s growth dark on his jaw. She gulped, taking a step back. “Perhaps you could recommend a place to stay?”

“Sure. I’ll take you there myself.” He laid his coat over her shoulders. “You look awful cold. Maybe this will help.”

The weight of the buffalo coat, the warmth from his body’s heat and his pleasant, man and wood smoke scent enveloped her. Overcome, she gaped up at him, touched by his kindness. He really was the gentleman she’d come to know from those letters. The bitter sweetness tugged like a lost dream in her heart.

She slipped her arms into the coat’s sleeves. “Thank you.”

“Can’t have you freezing to death before we give my father the devil for bringing you out all this way.”

Emotion burned in her throat and she could only shake her head in an answer. Nate Brooks was perfect, just as she knew he would be.

This wasn’t how she’d imagined her journey would end. She wrapped her arms around her middle, but there was no comfort. Not from the wind or the cold or the realization that she had made a terrible mistake in coming. Still, she was a Knowles, and she had the ability to stand on her own two feet.

The storm was getting worse. She thought of the handful of change at the bottom of her reticule, tucked in her satchel. It might be enough to get her a room for the night but little more. If only she had been able to keep her governess position through Grandmama’s illness; but in the end, taking care of her grandmother had meant more than the money. The plantation had been sold off in pieces starting well before the war, but Grandmama’s lingering illness had been costly. There was almost nothing left in the end. Now Savannah had nothing to fall back on. Nowhere to call home. No one left who cared.

She watched Nate heft the trunk onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. The letters in her pocket, by contrast, seemed as heavy as an anvil. Watching him, it was hard not to think about the promises written in those letters and the stories of a large extended family with lots of love to spare. So many hopes she’d had.

Maybe she had been a little naive, but she’d wanted to find a new family after losing hers. That was all.

Now, she was alone again.

“Follow me.” He headed straight into the thick curtain of snow and nightfall. Into the unknown.

Savannah lifted her skirts, grabbed her satchel and plowed through the ankle-deep snow before the storm could steal him from her sight.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Jillian Hart’s current schedule of historical releases:

High Country Bride, Love Inspired Historical, July 08
A Blessed Season, in Yuletide Treasure anthology, Love Inspired Historical, Nov 09
Rocky Mountain Courtship (Joseph’s story), HH anthology, spring 09

Jillian also has a free online read at eHarlequin, the link is on the homepage of her website, for a LI Historical short story.

Summary–

For widow Joanna Nelson, life presented constant hardships. Evicted from her home, she and her two children sought refuge, which led them to rancher Aidan McKaslin’s property. The kind but embittered cowboy couldn’t turn her away, and their agreement benefited them both. He sheltered her family, while she brought faith and a woman’s touch back into his world. When outside forces threatened their blossoming friendship, Aidan decided to take action. Could he convince the special woman to bind herself to him permanently or would he drive her away forever?

Dear Harlequin,

Why do you hate me? Haven’t I always been there for you? Holding your hand, loving you, pimping you out to all my friends like a good reader.

Harl babe I even had Lawson holding a HSR and laughing at it, only to stop and say well hmmm I could read this one (Make-Believe Mom by Elaine Grant ). I know we have had our ups and downs. But I have TRIED to be there for you, time and time again!

Don’t you think it is only fair you give back, just a lil? Honestly I am beginning to think you just don’t appreciate me. ::sob:: I understand… it will never be just the two of us. I do! But can’t you at least TRY to stop hurting me so!

Is it too much to ask that you mark your upcoming books with what line they are in? IS IT?!? Mass Market Paperback, tells me jack shit and just makes me go well duh. Do you know how happy I was when I saw Homespun Bride by Jillian Hart available for Pre-order (Feb 12, 2008). Homespun Bride… what does that make you think of? YES! Historical!

I Sqqqquuuueeeee’ed! I told Lawson something wonderful was happening!!! I was gonna email Wendy, Jillian Hart was going to have a new Harlequin Historical! Yes all those exclamation marks were needed. But you cut me to the quick Harlequin, Jillian Hart isn’t returing to Harlequin Historical ::sob:: but kicking off a new steeple hill inspirational line ::double sob::.

You are cruel. I cried. I may never recover. ::cries:: Stop it or I swear I will quit you! I could do it too! Shut up gwen, I could, if I tried really really hard.

Crushed,
Sybil

:: just a note, me think someone else cried cuz this was really put into draft last weekend and now amazon shows it as: Homespun Bride (Love Inspired Historical) (Mass Market Paperback) and not just (Mass Market Paperback)::

Go team Amazon! For those of you that like inspy, I highly rec this author. You should check it out and tell us how it is.
Homespun Bride (Feb., $5.50) by Jillian Hart. When a young rancher rediscovers his now-blind high school sweethearts, they both must come to terms with broken dreams and the blessing of love.