Usually when we think of Western historical romance set in California, our minds instantly go to the Gold Rush era. Men flooding into San Francisco, having one last rousing fling on the Barbary Coast, before heading out to the gold fields of the Sierra Nevadas. Meeting with heartbreak if they’re starring in a tragedy or love if they’re starring in a romance. (Let’s hope for their sake that it’s a romance!)

Southern California on the other hand, with Disneyland and Hollywood and acres and acres of citrus groves, doesn’t usually come to mind. But in the mid-1800s, Southern California was commonly referred to as the “Cow Counties” since it was full of cows, cowboys (and vaqueros) and ranches.

Today, California is famous for its produce—probably everyone in America has eaten produce from California at sometime in their lives. But Southern California is naturally unsuited to agriculture, at least without large scale irrigation. We just don’t get enough rain. However, with its wide open spaces, early Southern California was ideal pasture land for cattle. Mexican-era Southern California was a land of ranchos, with skilled vaqueros riding the herds.

In those pre-refrigeration days, only products that would keep over long distances were valuable for trading. Which left the main product of a cow—the meat—as being useless for trade, since California was quite some distance from the East Coast. Instead, the California rancheros sent more durable hides and tallow back East and left the rest of the carcasses to rot. (You can imagine the smell from that.)

With the arrival of the Gold Rush—and all those hungry miners—suddenly there was a huge local market for all that beef. Many Southern Californian ranchers grew rich selling beef to miners, just as their Northern Californian compadres grew rich selling miners tools, clothes, and other supplies. (Want to get rich during a gold rush? Don’t bother opening a mine—sell stuff to miners instead.)

But with booms come busts. As the flood of migrants to the gold fields slowed, so did the demand for beef, leading to a depression in the cattle market. And then in the early 1860s came a hundred year drought, much like the one afflicting California today. Ranchers slaughtered entire herds to keep the animals from dying of thirst and hunger, driving the cows out of the “cow counties.”

When the rains came again, the ranchos didn’t. But large scale irrigation did, leading to the massive citrus groves that helped make California famous, along with the tourism industry (yes, all the way back in the late 1800s!) which made California even more famous.

But even today, among the swimming pools and movie stars, you can still find working cattle ranches in Southern California. Not as many as we once had, but enough to provide a reminder and a link to Southern California’s “cow county” past.

Excerpt from The Farmer Takes a Wife (which is currently free!)

“Why do you think I want to marry Miss Moreno?” Marcus asked Miss Kemper. She’d made entirely the wrong assumption.

“I should think it very obvious. This is the first time you’ve ever danced with anyone. Why would you start dancing unless you were looking for a wife?”

“You’ve noticed that I don’t dance?” He didn’t think she’d ever taken any note of him.

“Well, you obviously do dance, and you do it quite well.”

The warmth in his middle bloomed into heat.

“No, you choose not to dance. Except that now you do.”

She’d gotten the part about looking for a wife right. She’d just misidentified the wife. “You think I should marry Miss Moreno. Is that correct?”

She was mouthing something to herself. “Hmm? Oh, yes, but I’m not suggesting that you marry Catarina tomorrow. Court her first and see if you suit. I could speak with her beforehand, if that would help.”

If he weren’t so in love with Miss Kemper, he might be tempted to be annoyed with her. What kind of a woman danced with a man, then assumed he should be courting someone else? This was even more muddling than when she smiled at him.

The music came to a climax before fading to nothing, the two of them slowing and stopping along with it. The rest of the couples burst into applause, but he merely searched her face. Was there any hope for him and his suit there? Or was she putting forth this nonsense about Miss Moreno to put him off as kindly as she could?

She wore an expression of mere politeness. Nothing more.

A flurry of motion from the edge of the room caught her eye. Miss Moreno was furiously waving her over, no doubt appalled Miss Kemper had danced so long with a “dirt grubber.”

It was hopeless—it had all gone too terribly wrong. It was as if he were looking on an entire field of blight, a whole season of planting lost to fate.

He’d tried, after two years of waiting, and he’d failed.

“I think I should head back over to Catarina,” she said. “It looks like she needs me.” She began to head off, waving at him over her shoulder. “Thank you for the dance.”

A small spark of hope flared, traveled up his throat, and flew from his mouth. “Miss Kemper.”

She turned back, inquiring.

He fisted his hands at his sides and kept his head high. He had braved a dragon to ask her to dance—he could ask for one thing more.

“Would you do me the honor of walking with me tomorrow after church?” Fast and stiff, but he’d said it.

She blinked as if he had said something unexpected. But then, slowly, she smiled. “Yes.” She blinked again before repeating more firmly, “Yes. I’d be very pleased to walk with you after church tomorrow.”

Links

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X0LWZK4

iBooks: http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-farmer-takes-a-wife/id991485180?ls=1&mt=11

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-farmer-takes-a-wife-genevieve-turner/1121860494?ean=2940152164770&itm=1&usri=2940152164770

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-farmer-takes-a-wife-11

Google Play: http://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=fN3oCAAAQBAJ

Website: http://www.genturner.com

Blog: http://www.genturner.com/blog

Bio

Genevieve Turner writes historical romance fresh from the Golden State. In a previous life, she was a scientist studying the genetics of behavior, but now she’s a stay at home mom studying the intersection of nature and nurture in her own kids.  (So far, nature is winning!)  She lives in beautiful Southern California, where she manages her family and homestead in an indolent manner.

Hi, Cynthia, and waving a big hello to all your friends. I’m excited to announce that A Rancher’s Woman is on sale for 99c! This is the first time it’s ever been on sale.

E. I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to tell my readers that I’ve read your book and it is one of my top ten. It’s an absolutely wonderful book I couldn’t put down. I give it my highest recommendation.

Set in 1896, this isn’t exactly a standard romance. Oh, it’s a romance, but it’s also filled with a wonderful historic story of life during the late 1800’s. A time when women did as their father told them, and life in the west was darn hard! Don’t look for the prairie or silk dresses in this novel! This is about reservation life, land that wasn’t exactly hospitable, fitting into a high society that existed in pockets of American cities, and the hatred of our Native Americans.

This book came about because I had written the story A Christmas Far From Home for Debra Holland’s Sweetwater Springs Christmas. That’s when I realized I had another story begging to be written. I tossed some other manuscripts out of the way and wrote this book. It’s the continuation from that story, except this is about Adie’s older sister, Malene, and a Crow Indian.

It’s also a time when the miscegenation laws meant whites were not permitted to marry anyone of color. American Indians were considered of color and any feeling Many Feathers and Malene had for each other could have had them hanged from the nearest tree. But hearts don’t see such differences.

This book has garnered all sorts of acclaim including being placed in a Native American Indian encyclopaedia. And instead of the normal romance readers, I’m discovering that men are loving this historical western! Plus a friend’s daughter texted me the other week to tell me that this book was on a recommended reading list created by her history professor. (I’ll admit I ran around on the ceiling for a few days after that!)

It’s written for adults but if your pre-teen reads it, you won’t have a thing to worry about – um, yes, you will. You are going to be faced with how to explain to them the stupidity of prejudice. It’s a different look at life back then and a love between two people.

I love the fact that I can flush a toilet, take a hot shower, toss dirty clothes into a washing machine, turn on the oven, and buy my milk in the grocery store! Yes, life is easier, and because of a computer, some phone lines, and a satellite, I can be here with all of you! J

EXCERPT from A RANCHER’S WOMAN

Many Feathers took his paper along with the forms to the office in Billings. Larger than any town he’d ever been in, he reined in his horse and took a few moments to look around. Most of the buildings contained signs and he was glad he’d learned to read. Slowly, he made his way up the street. He almost missed the land office, as it was tucked between two larger buildings.

He tethered his horse to the long wooden rail out front and stood at the door trying to decide if he should knock or walk in. He rapped once and opened the door. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the small brick building.

There was a man sitting at a desk who looked terrified as he asked, “What do you want?”

“I have come to register my claim to property.”

The man’s grin looked more like a sneer. “Put your X on the paper and we’ll call you.”

“My X? Do you not want my name?” His gut tightened as he picked up the pen and dipped it in the inkwell. Very carefully he wrote Many Feathers.

“Have a seat.” The man pointed to two wooden chairs.

The office looked very official with maps on the walls and several tall cases with locked drawers. He had to sit in a chair and wait his turn. Doing nothing in a white man’s building was very strange to him. The air was damp and musty. He rubbed his nose with his forefinger.

Even though the door to the next room was closed, he could clearly hear every spoken word. With nothing else to do, Many Feathers listened to the conversation in the next room. The man in there took a long time, as he had many things to register, including a mining claim.

A man and woman walked into the tiny building. Their clothes were rumpled and dusty. They looked as though they’d traveled a long way to come to the office. The man signed the paper at the desk and then turned to Many Feathers. “Get up. Don’t you know your place?”

“My place?”

“When there are only two chairs and you are taking one of them…” The man glared at Many Feathers.

“I was told to sit. You want me to stand so you can sit?”

“Yes. Stupid savage,” the man grumbled.

He rolled his hands over facing his palms up and stood so that they could sit. Standing felt better anyway, as the wooden chair was not comfortable.

When the miner left, he spit on Many Feathers. Many Feathers inhaled and fisted his hands behind is back. He was more than aware that the white man held little respect for Indians, but he could not understand why. He had never done anything to deserve such treatment. Then the man behind the desk called the couple to register their claim.

“Am I not next?”

“No. They go first. You go when there is time to deal with you.”

Many Feathers turned his back to the skinny man behind the desk and found himself staring at a map of his land. It was as if it were drawn from the perspective of a great bird high in the sky. The reservation land was washed in red ink, but it was easy to see the two rivers, the mountains, and the lakes. Pride filled him, as he knew he was claiming a large chunk. He stood a little straighter and puffed out his chest.

He would wait if it took all day, for he was going to own his land. He was entitled to it. The agent had given him a copy of the law. The tribal council had agreed and placed their marks on the paper. The agent had signed that paper, too.

Four more people came into the office and each one went ahead of him. Finally, as the day was ending, his name was called. He took his papers into an even smaller room with a desk.

A man with gray hair and glasses said, “Have a seat. What are you doing here?”

Many Feathers sat in one of two wooden seats on his side of the desk and gazed at all the papers stacked in front of the spectacled man. “I have marked my land, and I wish to file my claim, but my form is not filled out completely as I do not understand some of what you want.”

The man held out his hand and Many Feathers handed him the papers.

“This is a very large portion of land. Are you certain it is properly marked?”

“Yes, sir. I was taught how to mark land. Each length of chain is clearly marked.”

“But according to this, you’ve not fenced it.”

“No, sir. It is reservation land. I am not a homesteader. I only had to mark and have approval of the tribe.”

The man sighed. “Who filled out this form?”

Many Feathers flexed his fingers. “I did. Did I do something wrong?”

“You know how to write?”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Coleman taught me to read and write. But I often must look up the words in a dictionary. This was too many words.”

The man chuckled. “Well, I never had a red man come to my office with a claim, nor have I ever known a red man who could read and write. Let’s finish this form. For starters, you need to enter your full name. I need that. What’s your full name?”

“Many Feathers.”

The man shook his head. “Do you not have an English name?”

“English? It is Many Feathers.”

The man took a paper from within a drawer in his desk. “What was your father’s name?”

Many Feathers swallowed as he translated the name of his father and settled on Hunter. “Hunter. His last name was Hunter.”

The man wrote Hunter. “Now you need a first name. Many Feathers will not work. It needs to be an English name. You have marked much land. What do you intend to do with it?”

“I will build a house, grow vegetables and grain, and will raise cattle. I will be the first rancher on our reservation.”

The man nodded and transferred the information to a larger map. “As many marks as you have made. I will give you the name of Mark. From now on you will be Mark Hunter. You will no longer sign things as Many Feathers. Your agent should have given you an English name. I will fill those forms out for you. From which tribe are you?”

“Apsáalooke.”

“You are a Crow.”

“Yes, sir.” Many Feathers watched what the man was doing. Several times forms were passed, and with effort, Many Feathers signed Mark Hunter. In asking for this claim, it had cost him his name, but he had a new one to go with his new life as a rancher. Eagle Feathers attempt to shame had created a new path to autonomy.

Many Feathers left the office with his deed and his new name. He counted several coins and decided he’d buy some food. The bakery was closing as he approached, but he asked anyway.

An older woman, with her hair tied into a knot, slipped several cookies and loaf of bread into a bag. “Here. Now go away!”

“What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Go!” She pointed to the door.

Money still confused him so he put some change on the counter and left. These people treated him as if he were a wolf that was about to devour them. He had planned to stay in town, but decided it was best if he didn’t. He rode until he spotted a stockyard and then what he thought might be the Reiner house by Malene’s description. If he could sleep in their barn, he’d be grateful. The sun was setting as he knocked on the door.

Here is the link to get your copy for only 99 cents.

http://www.amazon.com/Historical-Fiction-Ranchers-Victorian-American-ebook/dp/B00HGV37VA

Last year I self-published Lakota Dreaming, a contemporary mystery with a strong love story. The main character, Zora Hughes, had visions of an ancestor’s life (genetic memories). My readers were enthralled and wanted to know more about this ancestor. So I decided to write a short prequel (novella length) historical about Zora’s ancestor. How hard could it be? I knew the characters in question and figured I could whip this novella out in one or two months. Fast forward thirteen months, fifty thousand plus words and much hair pulling later.

What took so long? In my naiveté, I didn’t take into consideration the amount of research needed on the Plains Indians, life in the 19^th century and the fact I knew nothing about Julia’s (Zora’s ancestor) love interest and future husband. I learned a lot about life on the Great Plains and about me as an author (that I’d never write another historical). My hat is off to all authors who write historical fiction. You’re not paid enough.

Lakota Moon Rising takes place in 1851 and starts on a Louisiana plantation. The main character, Julia, a slave, escapes and is later captured by the Comanche and then traded to the Cheyenne. She witness the brutality of the Indians but appreciates the beauty of the wide-open Plains. She struggles against her attraction to a Lakota Sioux warrior. She doesn’t want to be enslaved by love.

Below is an excerpt from Lakota Moon Rising, being released on October 1^st and now available for preorder at a sale price of $0.99 through September 22^nd:

The sun was at its highest, and the heat lay on the land like a smoldering buffalo hide. Sunkawakan Iyopeya wiped sweat from his brow and surveyed the village. Few people were about, a few children playing in the dust at the opposite end of the village and two captives, one minding her cooking fire, the other sitting. Reined in by its master’s hands, his mount blew out an impatient breath and pawed the earth. The hunting party was right behind them. Jubilant with their catch, the men rode hard to the rise.

Mindful of the women and children, Sunkawakan Iyopeya turned and shouted, “Halt.”

They didn’t heed his warning but flew past him riding straight toward the heart of the village. This was not part of the agreement. They knew children and the elderly wandered between the teepees. But Sunkawakan Iyopeya knew their pride was at stake. They couldn’t be bested by a Lakota Sioux.

Leaning over his mount, he spurned his horse to greater speed, hoping to beat the men to the village.

“Hiyah,” he shouted to his stallion. His heart banged in his chest like a ceremonial drum.

He’d passed all but two of the horsemen by the time they reached the center of the camp. He could see only one of the women, fear and defiance playing across her features. The first horseman managed to avoid riding over her. The second couldn’t stop and plowed into her, knocking her to the ground. Sunkawakan Iyopeya could hear the rest of the hunting party, twelve men, hard on his horse’s hooves.

She’d gotten to her hands and knees, trying to rise again. Leaping from his mount’s back, he fell onto the woman, sheltering her thin body with his own and rolling them between the hooves of the oncoming horses. One hoof caught him a glancing blow, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

They rolled into a teepee, bringing down the whole thing.

Her breath blew hot and choppy on his neck. She smelled of corn and woman musk. For a brief moment, he cradled her in his arms.

“Get off me, you heathen,” her muffled voice said from beneath him.

The last stretch had been a race for her life, and it had left him winded as though he’d been in battle. When she pushed at his shoulders, he realized his full weight pressed her into the ground.

He raised his head and stared down at the bundle in his arms. Her face was different than any he had ever seen. Her skin, the parts not covered in soot, was brown like the nuts that fell in the forest. Her eyes were like honey, and they spat fire.

Rolling off and standing in almost one motion, he reached down for her. She slapped his hand away and struggled to her feet.

“Good with the horses not with the women,” one of the men from the hunting party shouted. The other Cheyenne laughed.

Amazon Link: www.tinyurl.com/nehwq7q

Find Constance at:

www.constancegillam.com

www.facebook.com/authorconstancegillam

twitter:@conniegillam

www.pinterest.com/constancegillam

Why do romance novels continue to attract so many readers? There are a number of good reasons. I’ll offer my own opinion and let’s see if we agree.

Why do I read romances? I enjoy reading books I can feel passionate about which equates to main characters who are passionate people. I want to read a novel in which I truly care about those main characters. For me, that means romantic fiction.

Don’t get me wrong, I like many different kinds of fiction but enjoy most a novel with a happy ending. I hope that doesn’t make me sound shallow. I suppose part of the reason I read is to escape the hum-drum of everyday existence. I want to read a great love story with characters I can care about. For instance, I love Regency because the novels are often humorous as well as romantic.

I want to solve an exciting mystery along with the fictional detectives. I also want to read a book with an interesting, clever plot. I appreciate an intelligently written novel. However, without a good romance, for me a mystery novel falls flat. Sleuths in a mystery need to be well-rounded characters just like people in real life. Emotions are part of human existence. The 4th novel in my Kim Reynolds series: THE BAD WIFE is part of my tribute to romantic mystery fiction. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J6PCKVW

The series consists of romantic mysteries with a paranormal edge, the kind of fiction I enjoy reading. Did I mention I like to read romances that have a paranormal element? No? Pardon my oversight.

My latest published novel, DARK MOON RISING, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00Z7824A4/

combines romance, mystery, and paranormal elements. It’s my tribute to the Gothic tradition. I love reading a fast-paced romance that has the elements of a supernatural suspense thriller. So I had to write my own version.

My YA romance novel THE DEVIL AND DANNA WEBSTER came out with a digital first publisher. http://www.amazon.com/Devil-Danna-Webster-Jacqueline-Seewald/dp/1512340081/

It received such good reviews and was so popular with readers that the publisher has now brought it out in print as well.

Reading novels and short stories gives me added perspective on life while providing me with inspiration to write fiction. I wrote a book of short stories entitled BEYOND THE BO TREE which is offered Kindle book. It contains ten romantic stories of varied heat levels. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DTV0750

Some of the stories are realistic while others are fanciful. There’s a good mix which include a vampire romance, a Druid priestess at odds with an archeologist, and a young woman who meets a Greek god in the garden of an art gallery.

I believe a good book is one the reader will enjoy. It should be one you just have to finish reading and it should leave you feeling good, satisfied, emotionally and mentally enriched.

Here is an excerpt from DARK MOON RISING, my latest adult romance:

“Life and death are just different sides of the same coin.” He pressed her fingertips against his lips.

“I think you’re paying lip service to a viewpoint you feel requires your loyalty.” Her voice sounded unsteady.

His fingertips lifted her chin and gently turned her face toward his. “I think maybe you’re right. You’re very perceptive about people, aren’t you? It’s okay. You don’t have to be shy with me.”

She felt her cheeks flame. “Tell me about yourself,” she said quickly.

His piercing midnight-blue eyes met hers squarely. “You really don’t want to know.”

She sensed his inner conflict and turmoil. “Yes, I would really like to know you.”

“You’re so sweet and lovely.”

The next thing she knew, he was leaning over and taking her into his arms. She wanted to give in to the need she felt for him, but her sensitivity warned her it would be a serious mistake. She reacted by pulling away from him, but he pressed closer. The pads of his thumbs rubbed erotically across her lips. Then he held her head with his hand and bent his face over hers. His fingers caught in her hair as his lips, warm and firm, pressed against her own.

Her heart was beating wildly as she withdrew from him. Surely, this was not right. Awareness of her vulnerability was more than a little frightening. He sensed her resistance and allowed her to move away.

“You were going to tell me about yourself,” she reminded him in a breathless voice.

“There isn’t much to tell—unless you want to know about the people I’ve killed in the name of patriotism.” His look was unreadable.

She felt the hum of sexual tension between them. She had always liked blue eyes in a man and his were such a deep, dark blue she felt as if she were drowning in them.

He pulled her against him, his mouth coming down on hers. This kiss was not as gentle as the previous one. He did not merely press his lips against hers but kissed her deeply, hungrily, possessively. His mouth was warm and moist and tasted of beer, tobacco and virility. She sought to break free, but this was the man of her dreams. Even if she hadn’t told him, even if he didn’t know that she had dreamt of him just as he had dreamt of her, somehow it was there between them. The connection, the need, the passion was very real. They were linked together in some primeval way that she could not hope to understand.

*****

What sort of novels do you prefer to read? What constitutes a good book in your opinion? Who are some of your favorite authors? Are there any novels you would recommend to other readers?

BIO

Multiple award-winning author, Jacqueline Seewald, has taught creative, expository and technical writing at Rutgers University as well as high school English. She also worked as both an academic librarian and an educational media specialist. Fifteen of her books of fiction have been published to critical praise including books for adults, teens and children. Her short stories, poems, essays, reviews and articles have appeared in hundreds of diverse publications and numerous anthologies such as: THE WRITER, L.A. TIMES, READER’S DIGEST, PEDESTAL, SHERLOCK HOLMES MYSTERY MAGAZINE, OVER MY DEAD BODY!, GUMSHOE REVIEW, LIBRARY JOURNAL, and PUBLISHERS WEEKLY. She’s also an amateur landscape artist and loves blue grass music.

Her writer’s blog can be found at: http://jacquelineseewald.blogspot.com

Thank you, Cindy, for hosting me on your blog today. My name is Peggy L Henderson, and I am the author of several time travel romance series set in the American West, as well as some western historical romances. I love Yellowstone – it’s beauty, diversity, and history. There is just no place like it on earth. It’s what inspired me to write my first series, the Yellowstone Romance Series. Romance and adventure is set against the backdrop of this magical place that is often called Wonderland. Amidst action, adventure, and plenty of romance,  the series takes the reader through my fictional account of how Yellowstone National Park went from an unknown wilderness to becoming the first national park.

Yellowstone National Park, the nation, in fact, the world’s first national park, was signed into law by President Ulysses S. Grant on March 1, 1872.

If you’ve ever been to Yellowstone, and sat at one of the Ranger campfire programs at Madison Junction, the ranger will almost always point behind him or her, to a tall mountain across the valley. The mountain is named National Park Mountain, and legend has it that this is where the national park idea was born. It is said that Henry Washburn, Nathaniel Langford, and Cornelius Hedges camped in the valley just beneath the mountain during their expedition through the area in 1870, and came up with the grand idea of preserving the wonders they saw – the geysers, hot springs, canyons, rivers and lakes – for everyone to enjoy for generations to come. They wanted the area set aside as a nation’s park.

Whether this conversation actually occurred, and in that precise location, is up for debate, but it makes for a nice campfire story.  So what did lead to the birth of the national park idea?

Lewis and Clark, during their expedition in 1805, missed the area that is now the famous Yellowstone National Park. In 1806, John Colter, who was part of the expedition, set out with a group of fur trappers, and some historical accounts say he is the first white man to have seen the area and its geysers. He described a place of “hell and brimstone” that most people dismissed as delirium. Those who heard of his tales called this imaginary place “Colter’s Hell.”

Over the years, more fur trappers entered the Rocky Mountains, and more and more reports found their way back to civilization of a place with boiling mud, steaming rivers, and petrified trees. These fantastical stories were believed to be just that – men’s tall tales who had been in the wilderness too long.

In 1856, mountain man Jim Bridger reported observing boiling springs, spouting water, and a mountain of glass and yellow rock. But since Bridger had a reputation as a “spinner of yarn,” his reports were also ignored.

The first detailed exploration of the Yellowstone area came in 1869, when three privately funded explorers trekked through what is now the park. The members of the Folsom party kept detailed records and journals, and based on their information, a group of Montana residents organized the Washburn/Langford/Doane Expedition of 1870. Henry Washburn was surveyor-general of Montana at the time.

The group included Nathaniel Langford, who later would be known as “National Park Langford.” They spent a month exploring the region, collecting specimens, and naming sites of interest (Old Faithful, anyone?) Another member of the group, lawyer Cornelius Hedges, proposed that the region should be set aside and protected as a national park. Other prominent men also made similar suggestions that “Congress pass a bill reserving the Great Geyser Basin as a public park forever.”

In 1871, Dr. Ferdinand Hayden, a geologist, organized the first government-sponsored exploration of the region. The Hayden Geological Survey of 1871 included numerous scientists, as well as photographer William Henry Jackson, and artist Thomas Moran. Together, they compiled a comprehensive report on Yellowstone, which helped convince Congress to withdraw the region from public auction. The Act of Dedication Law was signed by the President Uysses S. Grant on March 1^st, 1872.

The Act of Dedication

 An Act to set apart a certain tract of land lying near the headwaters of the Yellowstone River as a public park. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That the tract of land in the Territories of Montana and Wyoming …. is hereby reserved and withdrawn from settlement, occupancy, or sale under the laws of the United States, and dedicated and set apart as a public park or pleasuring ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people; and all persons who shall locate, or settle upon, or occupy the same or any part thereof, except as hereinafter provided, shall be considered trespassers and removed there from…
Approved March 1, 1872.

Yellowstone Heart Song, Yellowstone Romance Series Book One:

 Nurse and avid backpacker Aimee Donovan is offered the opportunity of a lifetime. She encounters a patient who tells her he can send her two hundred years into the past to spend three months in the rugged Yellowstone wilderness at the dawn of the mountain man era. The only requirement: she cannot tell anyone that she’s from the future.

 How did a white woman suddenly appear in the remote Rocky Mountain wilderness? Trapper Daniel Osborne’s first instinct is to protect this mysterious and unconventional woman from the harsh realities of his mountains. While he fights his growing attraction to her, he is left frustrated by her lies and secrecy.

 Daniel shows Aimee a side of Yellowstone she’s never experienced. She is torn between her feelings for him, and exposing a secret that will destroy everything he holds as truth. As her three months come to an end, she is faced with a dilemma: return to her own time, or stay with the man who opened her eyes to a whole new world. When the decision is made for her, both their lives will be changed forever.

 Excerpt from Yellowstone Heart Song

 For the better part of the morning, Daniel led her through the forest.  He showed her how to read different tracks, signs to look out for that an animal had been in the area, where to look for edible roots and plants, and how to watch the skies for changes in the weather. Along with the berries, she filled her backpack with mint, wild onions, licorice, and various other roots and plants.

She listened attentively as she tried to absorb everything Daniel told her. Some things she already knew, others were completely new to her. The subtle animal signs he picked up on astounded her. Silently, he had pointed out a black bear sow and her twin cubs in the distance, a moose in the thickets that she would have completely overlooked, and countless other smaller animals. He knew which critter made every track they came upon. He read the forest for information as someone in her time would read a newspaper. It was most refreshing to get a glimpse of this wilderness that she loved so much in her time from this man who carved out a living here.

Aimee savored the beauty of her surroundings. Aspen trees grew in abundance. Beaver lodges lined the banks along streams, and countless otters played in the waters. With the coming of the fur trappers to these mountains within a decade of this time, the beaver would be trapped to near extinction. Wolves would be hunted until none remained, and without this predator, the elk would take over, and cause the destruction of the aspen from overgrazing. This was a Yellowstone unfamiliar to her, but it was as nature had intended before the encroachment of man.

Despite the differences, the landscape still held a certain familiarity, and she realized Daniel was leading them back in the direction of the cabin sometime in the early afternoon. Her foot throbbed with every step she took, but today was one of the best days of her life. The raw, undisturbed landscape exhilarated her. No other hikers, no roads. Just me and this gorgeous backwoodsman.

Oh, geez, where were her thoughts taking her now? Daniel had proven to be an excellent teacher, and she enjoyed seeing her beloved Yellowstone through his eyes. Yet, as the day wore on, she found it harder and harder to concentrate on her surroundings, while she became more and more aware of him. He was as untamed as this land, and by far the most virile man she had ever met.

Peggy L Henderson

Western Historical and Time Travel Romance

“Where Adventure Awaits and Love is Timeless”

Author of:

Yellowstone Romance Series

Teton Romance Trilogy

Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series

Blemished Brides Western Historical Romance Series

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BIO

I never thought I’d be a writer, much less publish a book some day. I always wanted to be a veterinarian. I guess life just had other plans for me. When my husband and I decided to start a family, vet school pretty much went out the window, but I stayed in the field as a veterinary clinical laboratory technologist.

I live with my husband and two teenage sons in southern California. I have a Welsh pony, a crazy Labrador retriever who is a food vacuum, two cats, two parakeets, four bearded dragons (my compromise with my sons when they wanted a snake), and a small flock of chickens complete our menagerie of critters. I can’t imagine my life without my animals. My dream is to live in Montana some day.

In 2009, I began writing a story that, for whatever reason, was stuck in my head for almost a year. The book, Yellowstone Heart Song, turned into a full series of five novels (with three more planned), and several novellas. I’ve also written a related series, the Teton Romance Trilogy, plus three books in the Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series, and working on an ongoing western historical romance series titled Blemished Brides.

When I’m not writing, I love to go camping and hiking with my husband and kids, and spend time with my animals.

When I discovered how enjoyable it is to listen to audio books on my smart phone, I decided to see what the process required. Creating an audio book is not as easy as sitting in a quiet room and reading into a microphone. I contacted ACX.com, which is owned by Amazon and known as Audible.com to the general public. I decided on my bestselling book according to their guidelines. My Honorable Highlander is the first of my six Scottish time travel novels.

I posted a short excerpt, a description of what type of narrated voices I needed, and waited. Several people auditioned for me, meaning that they read the excerpt and posted it to my ACX account. After I chose one woman, I sent her the pdf of my manuscript along with a suggestion of what my characters looked like and sounded like. Example:

Kirkwall Gunn, our Hero
Scottish accent (deep and regal): 30 yr. old, dark auburn hair, blue eyes, 6ft. 4”, square chin, tanned, reddish chest hair, scar running from left lip up cheek. Laird of his small clan from Keldurunach (Kell-dure-ann-atch) near the Sutherland border.

Haven MacKay, our heroine
Modern-day American from New England: 25 yr. old, black hair w/wispy curls, pale green eyes, 5ft. 5”, born in Lincoln, NH. A friend of Jake’s. She has a small apt. and worked part-time at aunt’s herbal store & part-time at newspaper, photographic memory, named for ‘nymphs of the ash tree’.

Cameron Robeson
Scottish accent (comical, a jokester): 30 yr. old, wavy blond hair & golden eyebrows, amber eyes, weathered skin around mouth, 6’5”, tan. Kirk’s cousin, Nordic ancestry (think Vikings). Thinks of Haven as a raven-haired Goddess; has a feral glint; meaty fists, lusts after Haven.

The narrator was to start recording chapters, return them to me, and I would listen to them as I read along with my book. ACX gave her two months to complete the 10+ hour project. She asked for a two month extension, and then another without giving me one measly chapter. I fired her, and went back to asking for auditions. The second narrator I chose, Tracy Marks, was professional, competent, and came in under the two month requirement.

The Book Blurb: Bumbling present day herbalist, Haven MacKay, gets more than she bargains for when her love spell goes awry, is cast back in time, and meets her true love — Laird Kirkwall Gunn. Kirk’s plans go slightly off course when he falls in love with a woman wandering through the Scottish Highlands. After all, he has pledged to marry another, from an enemy clan, in order to end a century-old feud.

Buy Links: Audible Audio Book Amazon Audio Book iTunes Audio Book

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Lady Portia Flagstaff is my heroine in my latest Regency release, A TOUCH OF PASSION, book #3 in my USA Today bestselling Disgraced Lords series. She is a feminist. A woman ahead of her time, who understands that perhaps marriage is not an ideal institution, unless it’s to a man who will let her be true to herself.

Portia almost died at the age of sixteen and vowed to live her life to the full. She’s managed to set up a very successful cider business and she is very aware that she could lose it all when she marries. Her property becomes her husband’s property.

According to A. Woodley, Married women had no legal testamentary rights in relation to real estate. Any personal property of a woman, which she had before the marriage, or acquired after the marriage, became her husband’s absolutely, and as such, he had the right to leave it by will. Only with her husband’s permission could a wife make a will leaving personal property – even if it had been hers before her marriage. Moreover, his consent only applied to a particular will and this consent had to be strictly proved. His consent could be revoked even after her death. The only exception to this was her right to make a will leaving her ‘paraphernalia’ – clothing and personal ornaments.

For a woman used to making decisions, used to running her business, imagine having to hand it over to someone who could legally keep the profits and perhaps even leave you with nothing! Portia had to be sure the man she married understood she required an equal partnership, and then she had to trust he would not renege on said arrangement. Portia knew love was at the core of this trust. She would only marry a man who loved her before all else.

1. Woodley also gave this example of what could happen to women. Before the 1884 Married Women’s Property Act, most women were not allowed to own houses or gardens. This was the fate of Dorothy Nevill (1826-1913), who was unfortunately typical of the period. Having been as she said, “compromised in a Hampshire summerhouse”, she was married off to a wealthy cousin, in whose 23-acre Hampshire garden she was able to pursue her horticultural interests. She built 13 greenhouses, corresponded with leading scientists, including Darwin, and amassed a vast and important collection of plants, rivaled only by Kew. When her husband died, however, he left his remaining money in trust to his children, and Nevill was obliged to sell her home, her garden and her collection.

Here’s taste of Portia’s interaction with Grayson Devlin, my hero, a man who is the very essence of conservatism.

“Ladies, I’ll drink more champagne too,” Portia decided. “I need to fortify myself before tomorrow’s heart declaration. Grayson has the power to destroy me if he doesn’t understand who I really am. Maybe I’ll learn that he can never love the woman I am.”

There was a sound at the door, and the woman all turned at once. “I’ve always known who you are, and I’ve always admired who you are, and I’ve always loved who you are. I was simply too scared to admit it. But I promise you I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my cowardice.”

Portia forgot to breathe. Grayson stood in the doorway, his face twisted in pain.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you or made you doubt yourself. Any man would be privileged to call you his wife. I’m sorry for making you think for even one minute that I didn’t love everything about you.”

The other ladies made as if to rise, but Portia stayed them with her hand.

Portia’s heart slammed against her ribs. He looked so handsome, and a little bit lost. He was freshly shaved and dressed in her favorite jacket of his, the color a deep forest green that set off his hair. As he pulled at his cuffs, Portia saw that for once he was nervous and unsure of himself.

She wasn’t about to let him think she’d fall at his feet if he simply walked in and apologized. “We were going to test you tonight. We were going to send one of the grooms to the village to tell the men I’d fallen down the stairs and was badly injured.”

His gaze hardened. “I won’t run again. I give you my word.”

Portia nodded, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’ve loved you for years. I’ve waited for you to see me since I was sixteen. You can wait until at least tomorrow to have this conversation. The ladies and I have a night of feminine amusements planned.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “As you wish. How about a ride over the estate in the morning?”

“That would be acceptable,” she answered, her body starting to shake. She saw his shoulders relax, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

“Thank you.” With that he bowed and strode from the room.

It takes a lot to trust a man with your heart let alone your livelihood and business. Grayson is a fabulous hero. Read A Touch of Passion and see what he did to earn Portia’s trust and heart.

What are some ways a woman in the Regency era could employ to save some money for her retirement or future, should her husband leave her with nothing? I’ll draw one winner from the comments who will win an Audible File of INVITATION TO PASSION, RomCon Readers Crown WINNER Best Historical 2015.

Bron’s Bio:

USA Today bestselling author, Bronwen Evans grew up loving books. She writes both historical and contemporary sexy romances for the modern woman who likes intelligent, spirited heroines, and compassionate alpha heroes. Evans is a three-time winner of the RomCon Readers’ Crown and has been nominated for an RT Reviewers’ Choice Award. She lives in Hawkes Bay, New Zealand with her dog Brandy.

Bronwen loves hearing from avid romance readers at Bronwen@bronwenevans.com
You can keep up with Bronwen’s news by visiting her website www.bronwenevans.com

Or Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bronwenevansauthor

Or Twitter: https://twitter.com/bronwenevans_NZ

I’m in the process of rewriting an old book—Wooing Miss Whately. I’ve received my rights back to it ten years after it was published by Zebra Books, and it’s the fourth (and last) in my Merry Men Quartet. I’ll be re-publishing soon under the new title A Rake’s Reward.

When I first reread this book my first reaction to it was that I absolutely hated the heroine. She was rude and just plain nasty to the hero. I just couldn’t see why I wrote her like that and why the hero (or anyone else for that matter) would like her. And then I found my notes.

What I had been trying for was an outspoken young woman with a quick temper. Well, I got that. What I didn’t get was anything to make her likeable. Somehow, I just didn’t catch hold of that quality when I wrote her. She is too outspoken—to the point of being rude. And certainly has that quick temper so much so that she snaps at nearly everyone.

Needless to say, I’m completely re-imagining this character so that she’s sweet, if misguided. She tries to be clever and hides what she really wants throughout the story, and, naturally, it backfires on her. The story ends up being (or I hope, will end up being, since I haven’t finished re-writing it yet) a comedy of errors since nearly every major character has a secret they’re keeping.

But what I tried to do so many years ago—and failed in this instance—was to write a character who was different. I wanted her to be strong, feisty and independent. What I got was an annoying, not very nice person. I’m still going for the same qualities I’d wanted to begin with, I’m just now going about it in a different way. But the point is creating characters who are different and interesting.

I’ve tried to do this in all of my Merry Men Quartet books. In the first one, The Merry Marquis, my heroine is shy and quiet. She’s new to English society, having been raised in Spain by her Spanish mother. Her English father has insisted that she go to England to be presented to English society, she just doesn’t quite know how to go on. Only with the help and support of the hero does she manage to shine. But how many books have you read where the heroine is a shy little thing? Not many, and yet, I think this one works (you’ll have to tell me what you think if you read it).

The second book, An Exotic Heir, in the series has the feisty heroine, but even more importantly, the hero is an Anglo-Indian bent on revenge for the prejudice he’s had to face because of his mixed race. How different is that! Half the book takes place in Calcutta during the Raj. And I have to say, this is one of my favorite books which I’ve written.

And finally, the third book in the series, A Dandy in Disguise, is again about a young woman who was raised outside of English society (this time by parents who were archeologists) and needs help fitting in. The hero, again, is someone to love as he is a man hiding in plain site—it just takes the intelligence of the heroine to see what everyone else doesn’t.

I just love “fish out of water” books. Taking that round peg and shoving it into a square hole and trying to make it work. So far, it’s worked for the other three books in the series. Now I’ve got to get it to work in this fourth and last book.

What do you think? Do you like heroines or heroes who don’t fit the mold? Who are different? My imagination, always much too busy, is now taking me to a hero who isn’t of the higher noble classes—a baron or perhaps just a knight. Might I even try for a mere Mr? Would that be interesting? A non-nobleman trying to make it in a society that values you based on your title?

I love to hear what readers think! Leave your comments here, or email me at merry@meredithbond.com. Or come visit me on my Facebook page, www.facebook.com/meredithbondauthor.