In an unprecedented event 45 authors got together to write 50 stories, one for each state in the United States. The stories take place in 1890 and are being released in the order the state entered the Union.

My state is Nevada, the 36th state. Here is an excerpt of Genevieve, Bride of Nevada. Here is an the blurb and an excerpt.

Blurb:

A warehouse fire in Lawrence, Massachusetts has taken Genevieve “Genny” Copeland’s livelihood, but opened a new opportunity for her. If she takes the chance, she could have the family she’s always dreamed of but it would mean leaving everything she’s always known. Believing that opportunity only knocks once, Genny gets on a train west to Elko, Nevada and a new life. She becomes a mail-order bride.

Stuart MacDonnell lost his wife in child-birth six months ago. Now he’s left to raise a 2 year-old and a 6 month-old baby alone. He needs a wife but doesn’t want to court someone and pretend to be in love. He’ll never love again, but he needs a wife now and orders a mail-order bride.

Can Stuart and Genny come together and find happiness when they are at odds with each other? Will they find common ground and will love bloom amid the beautiful Ruby Mountains of Nevada?

Amazon Link http://amzn.com/B017ZIA9QE

EXCERPT:

October 11, 1890

Genny boarded the train headed west. All the money she had in the world, thirty dollars, was in her reticule. As the train pulled away from the station, Genny watched Lawrence, Massachusetts, the only place she’d ever known, fade away. Fear mixed with excitement enveloped her.

Her husband-to-be had two children. A little boy and a baby girl. And eventually they would have children of their own. His already having children was one of the things that appealed to her about him. Genny loved children. She’d been raised in an orphanage and from the time she was ten, she cared for the younger children and babies that came through. The children were the only thing she missed about the orphanage.

She was seated in a sparse car with ten rows of padded wooden seats, two on each side of a center aisle. A latrine was located in the rear of the car and she’d had to open her window several times to get rid of the stale smell. A little fresh air was all she wanted but more often than not, the refreshing breeze was accompanied by ash from the locomotive.

When she left Massachusetts she’d bought a loaf of bread, a round of cheese, and a couple of apples. That supply only lasted the first two days. The rest of her trip she had to buy food at the stops along the way or not eat at all which she did for two meals every day. She figured she could get by on one meal a day, though her stomach think so if the sounds coming from it were any indication.

She would travel to Elko, Nevada where Stuart would pick her up and she hoped they would stay for a few days getting to know each other before they married and left for her husband’s ranch in the Lamoille Valley, seventeen miles east of Elko. His letter said the trip would take three hours by wagon. She grimaced at the thought of more travel, but thought it would give them a chance to get to know each other. Give her more of a chance for a congenial relationship.

Genny’s train arrived in Elko seven days after she left Massachusetts. She had changed trains four times before getting on the Western Pacific Railroad into Elko.

A week of sitting upright in a rail car with ash and smoke wafting through the air was more than enough for her. She’d kept as clean as she could, using public bathrooms where she could find them and water pumps when she had to. All she wanted was a hot bath, and to get out of the corset she wore.

The discomfort she felt didn’t distract at all the different landscapes she’d been through. She thought the Rocky Mountains were the most magnificent things she’d ever seen. The Ruby Mountains she was in now though were quite lovely, too.

“Elko. Elko station.” The conductor for the came through announcing the stations as they approached. All of the conductors on each rail line had done this.

“This is your station, miss.”

She looked at the man and smiled. “Thank you, Henry. You’ve been most kind to me.”

She held out her gloved hand.

He took her hand in a gentle shake.

“I hope you have a good stay in Elko. Though, for the life of me I can’t imagine what a woman like you will do in a place like this.”

She sucked in a breath wondering what he meant by his statement. Though she had noticed that the little town seemed rather sparse and drab in comparison to some of the cities and towns she’d been through. “I’m getting married. I won’t be in Elko long.”

“Well, congratulations. Have a wonderful life.”

She hoped the conductor’s words came true. She always wanted a home and family of her own and this was her chance. Her only chance. “I will. Thank you.”

Henry tipped his cap and walked on, announcing the station one more time before exiting her car.

Once the train slowed and finally stopped, Genny grabbed her bag from the overhead bin. The contents of one carpet bag were all she claimed for possessions. A couple of gingham dresses, two black bombazine skirts, and three blouses—one  pink, one blue and one white. One change each of chemise and of bloomers, and two pairs of socks rounded out the clothing she owned. She wore a traveling suit, her only petticoats, her black wool coat and lace-up boots. Not much to show for twenty-five years on this earth.

Genny was an orphan, so she didn’t have anything from her parents and had never had enough money to buy herself jewelry. Her wedding ring would be the first piece she’d ever owned.

Putting a roof over her head and food on the table had taken just about everything she earned. Seven dollars and fifty cents a week didn’t allow much room for anything but the essentials. She had taken months to save enough money for the boots she wore, but she needed them. She’d been lining the old pair with newsprint because of the holes in the soles. Half of what would have been this month’s rent had finally given her sufficient funds.

She walked out to the platform between the cars and down the stairs to the station platform. Excitement made her stomach feel as though butterflies were fluttering around inside her.

Never in her life was she so glad to be somewhere as she was now. And she didn’t care if she ever rode a train again.

“Have a good life, Miss Genny,” the conductor said, holding her bag with one hand and helping her down the steps with the other.

“Thank you, Henry. You as well.”

Genny took her hat and slapped it against her thigh hoping to remove some of the ash from the journey. Looking down she saw that her coat was the worse for wear and took it off and shook it, ash and dirt floating from it into the air. She shivered and put back on her coat, then picked up her bag and walked up to the one-story yellow station. She peeked in the window and saw a small waiting room with a potbellied stove and a ticket window.

The wind rushed past, making her pull the lapels of her coat closer and she thought about heading inside to get out of the cold. But how would Mr. MacDonnell find her? For the time being, she waited where she was. If she got too cold before he came then she could always retreat into the building.

Genny shivered in the cold wind, her coat unable to keep out the invisible force that froze her to the spot. Or had the approach of the tall man in the black hat, the collar of his sheepskin coat flipped up against the chill kept her motionless?

He stopped in front of her.

“Miss Copeland?”

His voice washed over her, a deep, silky baritone that sent shivers—having nothing to do with the weather—up her spine.

“Yes, I’m Genevieve Copeland, but everyone calls me Genny.” She held out her gloved hand. “Are you Mr. MacDonnell?”

His hand engulfed hers.

“I am. Stuart MacDonnell.”

He held her hand for a moment too long as his gaze took in her face and then traveled down her body. Perhaps she wasn’t wrong to hope for a solid marriage.

BIO:

Cynthia Woolf is the award winning and best-selling author of sixteen historical western romance books and two short stories with more books on the way.

Cynthia loves writing and reading romance. Her first western romance Tame A Wild Heart, was inspired by the story her mother told her of meeting Cynthia’s father on a ranch in Creede, Colorado. Although Tame A Wild Heart takes place in Creede that is the only similarity between the stories. Her father was a cowboy not a bounty hunter and her mother was a nursemaid (called a nanny now) not the ranch owner.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and her great critique partners for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.

TITLES AVAILABLE

GENEVIEVE, Bride of Nevada, – American Mail-Order Brides Series

GIDEON – The Surprise Brides

MAIL ORDER OUTLAW – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 1

MAIL ORDER DOCTOR – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 2

MAIL ORDER BARON – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 3

NELLIE – The Brides of San Francisco 1

ANNIE – The Brides of San Francisco 2

CORA – The Brides of San Francisco 3

JAKE (Book 1, Destiny in Deadwood series)

LIAM (Book 2, Destiny in Deadwood series)

ZACH (Book 3, Destiny in Deadwood series)

CAPITAL BRIDE (Book 1, Matchmaker & Co. series)

HEIRESS BRIDE (Book 2, Matchmaker & Co. series)

FIERY BRIDE (Book 3, Matchmaker & Co. series)

TAME A WILD HEART (Book 1, Tame series)

TAME A WILD WIND (Book 2, Tame series)

TAME A WILD BRIDE (Book 3, Tame series)

TAME A SUMMER HEART (short story, Tame series)

TAME A HONEYMOON HEART (novella, Tame series)

WEBSITE – www.cynthiawoolf.com

NEWSLETTER – http://bit.ly/1qBWhFQ

I was so honored to be asked to write a book for this series. I chose Nevada because of the beautiful Ruby Mountains where I’d decided to place the story. I hope you will enjoy Genny and Stuart’s love story. Here is an excerpt.

Genny boarded the train headed west. All the money she had in the world, thirty dollars, was in her reticule. As the train pulled away from the station, Genny watched Lawrence, Massachusetts, the only place she’d ever known, fade away. Fear mixed with excitement enveloped her.

Her husband-to-be had two children. A little boy and a baby girl. And eventually they would have children of their own. His already having children was one of the things that appealed to her about him. Genny loved children. She’d been raised in an orphanage and from the time she was ten, she cared for the younger children and babies that came through. The children were the only thing she missed about the orphanage.

She was seated in a sparse car with ten rows of padded wooden seats, two on each side of a center aisle. A latrine was located in the rear of the car and she’d had to open her window several times to get rid of the stale smell. A little fresh air was all she wanted but more often than not, the refreshing breeze was accompanied by ash from the locomotive.

When she left Massachusetts she’d bought a loaf of bread, a round of cheese, and a couple of apples. That supply only lasted the first two days. The rest of her trip she had to buy food at the stops along the way or not eat at all which she did for two meals every day. She figured she could get by on one meal a day, though her stomach think so if the sounds coming from it were any indication.

She would travel to Elko, Nevada where Stuart would pick her up and she hoped they would stay for a few days getting to know each other before they married and left for her husband’s ranch in the Lamoille Valley, seventeen miles east of Elko. His letter said the trip would take three hours by wagon. She grimaced at the thought of more travel, but thought it would give them a chance to get to know each other. Give her more of a chance for a congenial relationship.

Genny’s train arrived in Elko seven days after she left Massachusetts. She had changed trains four times before getting on the Western Pacific Railroad into Elko.

A week of sitting upright in a rail car with ash and smoke wafting through the air was more than enough for her. She’d kept as clean as she could, using public bathrooms where she could find them and water pumps when she had to. All she wanted was a hot bath, and to get out of the corset she wore.

The discomfort she felt didn’t distract at all the different landscapes she’d been through. She thought the Rocky Mountains were the most magnificent things she’d ever seen. The Ruby Mountains she was in now though were quite lovely, too.

“Elko. Elko station.” The conductor for the came through announcing the stations as they approached. All of the conductors on each rail line had done this.

“This is your station, miss.”

She looked at the man and smiled. “Thank you, Henry. You’ve been most kind to me.”

She held out her gloved hand.

He took her hand in a gentle shake.

“I hope you have a good stay in Elko. Though, for the life of me I can’t imagine what a woman like you will do in a place like this.”

She sucked in a breath wondering what he meant by his statement. Though she had noticed that the little town seemed rather sparse and drab in comparison to some of the cities and towns she’d been through. “I’m getting married. I won’t be in Elko long.”

“Well, congratulations. Have a wonderful life.”

She hoped the conductor’s words came true. She always wanted a home and family of her own and this was her chance. Her only chance. “I will. Thank you.”

Henry tipped his cap and walked on, announcing the station one more time before exiting her car.

Once the train slowed and finally stopped, Genny grabbed her bag from the overhead bin. The contents of one carpet bag were all she claimed for possessions. A couple of gingham dresses, two black bombazine skirts, and three blouses—one  pink, one blue and one white. One change each of chemise and of bloomers, and two pairs of socks rounded out the clothing she owned. She wore a traveling suit, her only petticoats, her black wool coat and lace-up boots. Not much to show for twenty-five years on this earth.

Genny was an orphan, so she didn’t have anything from her parents and had never had enough money to buy herself jewelry. Her wedding ring would be the first piece she’d ever owned.

Putting a roof over her head and food on the table had taken just about everything she earned. Seven dollars and fifty cents a week didn’t allow much room for anything but the essentials. She had taken months to save enough money for the boots she wore, but she needed them. She’d been lining the old pair with newsprint because of the holes in the soles. Half of what would have been this month’s rent had finally given her sufficient funds.

She walked out to the platform between the cars and down the stairs to the station platform. Excitement made her stomach feel as though butterflies were fluttering around inside her.

Never in her life was she so glad to be somewhere as she was now. And she didn’t care if she ever rode a train again.

“Have a good life, Miss Genny,” the conductor said, holding her bag with one hand and helping her down the steps with the other.

“Thank you, Henry. You as well.”

Genny took her hat and slapped it against her thigh hoping to remove some of the ash from the journey. Looking down she saw that her coat was the worse for wear and took it off and shook it, ash and dirt floating from it into the air. She shivered and put back on her coat, then picked up her bag and walked up to the one-story yellow station. She peeked in the window and saw a small waiting room with a potbellied stove and a ticket window.

The wind rushed past, making her pull the lapels of her coat closer and she thought about heading inside to get out of the cold. But how would Mr. MacDonnell find her? For the time being, she waited where she was. If she got too cold before he came then she could always retreat into the building.

Genny shivered in the cold wind, her coat unable to keep out the invisible force that froze her to the spot. Or had the approach of the tall man in the black hat, the collar of his sheepskin coat flipped up against the chill kept her motionless?

He stopped in front of her.

“Miss Copeland?”

His voice washed over her, a deep, silky baritone that sent shivers—having nothing to do with the weather—up her spine.

“Yes, I’m Genevieve Copeland, but everyone calls me Genny.” She held out her gloved hand. “Are you Mr. MacDonnell?”

His hand engulfed hers.

“I am. Stuart MacDonnell.”

He held her hand for a moment too long as his gaze took in her face and then traveled down her body. Perhaps she wasn’t wrong to hope for a solid marriage.

Neither had removed their gloves, but Genny would bet that his hands were rough, given the work he did for a living. She knew a rancher worked outside a lot, tending animals.

“Please come with me. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for the judge to marry us upon your arrival.”

Genny’s heart leapt to her throat.

“So quickly? I thought we’d have a day or two in town to become better acquainted before we married.”

“I’m sorry, but we have to return to the ranch before this storm sets in.” He gestured toward the sky, full of storm clouds she hadn’t noticed before. “I brought a couple of blankets to wrap up in for the ride.”

This was what she’d signed up for…to be this man’s wife. Genny took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her nervous stomach.

“Very well. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but he said nothing, just picked up her bag and started toward a wagon at the end of the platform.

Genny walked beside the man who would be her husband. Close up, she saw he had blue eyes and brown hair. He was lean but by the way he moved she could tell he was also muscular. That made sense. From what she’d read at the library in Lawrence, ranching was a hard life. That was all right. Genny wasn’t afraid of hard work.

Blurb: Leora, Bride of California, is the thirty-first book in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides Series!

Her sister gone, her roommates soon to follow, Leora Mitchell must now face the fact that she, along with the others, are mail-order brides. For years her life revolved around Brown’s Textile Mill, her sister Lottie and their friends. Now, as mail-order brides they’d be scattered across the country, ready to start a new life. The only problem was, Leora had no idea what that life looked like, nor did she have any idea who she was without the familiar faces she loved so much.

Pastor Theron Drake needed a wife, and the crazy folks in his congregation whole-heartedly agreed. So much so, they thought they should have as much access to the new Mrs. Drake as he did! They volunteered her for everything they could think of and made her the director of the annual Christmas Play. Throw in the town bully/busybody who’d rather have her own choice of a Mrs. Drake, and you have a mail-order bride that doesn’t know if she’s coming or going.

Will Theron and Leora’s new marriage survive the onslaught of his over-zealous parishioners? Or will she crack under the pressure, turn tail and run? Find out in this hilarious romp how two people are forced to discover their true strengths and weaknesses.

 Excerpt:

Theron watched Mrs. Rutherford’s face contort before settling on a pinched expression. “Very well, I suppose he deserves that. At least he listens to us, unlike the last preacher we had in this town.”

Theron’s eyebrows rose at that. “What happened to him? I thought he simply took another position.”

“None of your concern,” Mrs. Rutherford huffed. She walked over to the table, turned and stared at Leora. “Stand up, girl.”

Leora stared at her in shock, and not a little indignation. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you hard of hearing? I said, stand up.”

Theron rolled his eyes. “Perhaps if you said ‘please’?”

Mrs. Rutherford turned to him, lips pressed into a firm line. But before she could say anything, Leora stood. She turned back to her. “Now, let’s have a look at you.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the table. The other two women joined her and the three walked a circle around Leora as if inspecting a horse.

Theron stood. “Enough of this nonsense. Mrs. Rutherford, is this really necessary? Who I choose as a bride is my business.”

“And who we wind up with as a pastor’s wife is ours. She’ll be involved in the workings of this town and I want to make sure she’s up to the task. Especially since you think poor Prudence isn’t.”

“And what if she’s not?” he asked, his voice laced with challenge. “Are you going to insist I sent her back after we’re married?”

“Of course not!” Mrs. Rutherford snapped. “If I had my way, we’d test her before you got married!

“Oh, for the love of…” Lord, help me keep my tongue, he silently prayed. “Miss Mitchell will be fine. Now if you’ll excuse us, she’s had a long journey and is very tired. And hungry.”

“But we wish to speak to you on another matter,” she declared, as if another’s basic needs were expected to bow to her agenda.

“What other matter?”

“We’ll tell you after that woman has gone upstairs.”

“That woman, as you call her, is my betrothed and she has a name. Leora Mitchell. Kindly use it.” It was all he could do to be civil at this point.

Leora watched in fascination as Mrs. Pleet got up from the table and hurried to where she stood. “Come along now, dear, let’s get you upstairs so you can rest. You do look tired. And I’ll bring you up dessert – I have a lovely cherry pie …” She grabbed Leora’s hand and ushered her from the room as fast as her chubby legs could go.

Theron’s hands balled into fists and he had to force himself to sit. “Now, Mrs. Rutherford, what’s this so-called matter that needs to be discussed?”

Author Bio

A consistent Top 100 lists bestseller, Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, has been writing for fun all of her life. When writing as Geralyn Beauchamp, her books are epic, adventurous, romantic fantasy at its best. When writing as Kit Morgan they are whimsical, fun, inspirational sweet and clean stories that depict a strong sense of family and community. ‘His Prairie Princess’ is the first of the Prairie Brides books and the first in the series of a long line of stories about Clear Creek, Oregon. One of the whackiest little towns in the old west! Get to know the townsfolk in Clear Creek and come sit a spell!

Samuel Morrison, a farmer from Iowa, is in need of a wife and a mother for Lizzie, his three-year old daughter.  He reads an article from Massachusetts advertising mail order brides. He writes to the agency stating he’s looking for a partner who will work by his side and, hopefully, come to care for him and be a loving mother to Lizzie.

Hannah Brown responds to his letter.  Though she doesn’t say too much about herself, Samuel decides to take a chance and asks her to come to Iowa.

This woman is everything he wants in a wife and more — or so he thinks.  Hannah has a secret that, if revealed, could devastate their future.

If Hannah tells Samuel, would he send her away?  She could lose all she’s come to cherish with Samuel and Lizzie.  Is Hannah willing to take that chance?

Excerpt

They were halfway home when two riders approached. Maddie’s eyes went wide when, out of nowhere, a rifle appeared on Samuel’s lap. “Just being cautious,” he muttered.

The two men pulled their horses up short when they reached the wagon. “Morrison,” said the rider who looked oldest. His hat sat low on his head covering his eyes, giving Maddie an uneasy feeling.

“Carl.” Samuel’s voice was low. “How’s your pa?”

“Sits in his chair all day not doing a dang thing. Don’t eat much and don’t talk, which is fine with me.”

“Who’s this purty thing you got there, Morrison?” Maddie shivered at the sight of the younger rider. His hair was long and dirty and stuck to the side of his face. He spit a stream of tobacco, a bit stayed behind to make its way down his chin. When he smiled, rotten teeth filled his mouth.

Samuel stiffened, saying nothing to the man. The puppy threw his head back and began to cry and yelp. “I don’t like being not talked to, Morrison, like I’m some sort of white trash. Maybe you couldn’t hear me none cause of this here mutt.” He drew a gun from his holster. “And maybe I should take care of it so you could hear me.”

In a flash, Samuel had the rifle cocked and trained on the man’s heart.

“No!” Lizzy cried, turning to try to get into the back of the wagon. Maddie grabbed her and struggled to hold the screaming little girl on her lap while watching Samuel. She had no doubt he’d kill the man without blinking an eye if he needed to.

“Put your gun away, Chad,” the other rider growled, disgust evident in his tone. “Sometimes you ain’t got no sense at all.”

“There be two of us,” Chad argued loudly.

“I said, put it away.” Carl’s tone was dangerous and Chad did as he was told.

http://www.amazon.com/Hannah-Bride-Iowa-American-Order-ebook/dp/B017HLRB5Q

Blurb

A clean, sweet historical romance set in 1890. Lilly Lind was forced to emigrate from Sweden two years ago, due to circumstances beyond her control. She finds a job as a garment maker in the Brown Textile Mill in Lawrence, Massachusetts, finally feeling as though she is settling in her new country. Then a suspicious fire burns the mill, making Lilly seek another way to survive. She answers a mail–order bride ad in the Grooms’ Gazette and sets off for Chicago, believing she will be a business owner’s wife.

Kansas rancher Seth Reagan travels to the Union Stockyards in Chicago to attend the 1890 American Fat Stock Show, the American Horse Show, and to purchase horseflesh to augment his herd. When arriving at the train station, he overhears a conversation between a young woman and a shady–looking man. Seth becomes concerned for the mail–order bride who is whisked away to a saloon, not to her new husband’s home.

When Seth goes to the saloon to check on the young woman, he finds her in trouble and offers to help her escape. While buying horses and arranging their return travel to Kansas, Seth realizes he would like to bring Lilly home with him, too, but she is still being hunted by the saloon owner’s thugs.

Lilly’s good fortune in meeting Seth makes her want to start a life with this man, but he came to Illinois for horses, not a bride. Would he want her after he learns of her secrets?

Please go to the American Mail-Order Bride Series website for the complete list of all fifty books available for your reading enjoyment.

To sign up for Linda Hubalek’s mailing list and receive notice of new titles as they are available, click here.

Excerpt

And now it was time for them to go to bed. They might be married, but they weren’t going to consummate it, so…it was making them both nervous and shy all of a sudden.

“Ah, thanks to you buying me a new night gown yesterday, you can have your night shirt back,” Lilly shyly said, still sitting at the table.

“True, but it’s a little colder on the floor so I’ll keep my pants on,” Seth drummed his fingers on the table, not comfortable to meet Lilly’s eyes.

“Seth, why would you sleep on the floor? We’re married now, even though we don’t plan to. …you know… Seth’s eyes widened and looked at Lilly’s red face. He might be thinking about it, but she almost said it out loud.

“Lilly you were hurt again today, I think you need to have the bed to yourself tonight,” Seth rushed through the words.

“Well, okay.” Lilly stood up, and Seth thought she was ready to go to bed.

“I’ll go downstairs then to give you some privacy so you can get into bed,” Seth said standing up, ready to run out the door.

“I could use your help before you go downstairs,” Lilly stopped Seth just as he was about to turn the doorknob.

“With what?”

“Could you please take my hair pins out, brush my hair and braid it? It’s hard to raise my right arm to do it,” she said sweetly. Seth blew out the air he was holding, worried it could have been more than brushing her hair.

“Sure, I’d be glad to help you,” he turned thinking she’d be seated in a chair by the table, but she sat on the far side of the bed with her back turned to him instead. How’d she move so fast to get on the bed?

“Here’s my brush,” Lilly looked over her shoulder at him. “Please put the hair pins on my handkerchief beside me so I can pick them up without dropping any.” Oh, boy. He was going to have to crawl in bed and sit behind her to reach her hair.

Seth, toed off his boots and sat on the bed, but she was still out of reach.

“Wait, I’ll move up a bit so you can sit behind me,” and Seth watched her little behind scoot on the bed.

“You know, I didn’t have any sisters, so I don’t know how to do this…so maybe you can still do it yourself?”

“Seth, I bet you’ve braided rawhide, twine and many other things. It’s not hard,” she glanced over her shoulder at him. She turned back around, but not before he saw her sweet turned–up lips.

Okay, he could do this. Seth moved to sit behind her, then studied her hair. Where’s the best place to start pulling pins?

He gingerly pulled a hairpin out of the bottom of her top clump of curls, trying to do so by only using the tips of his thumb and finger. His big fingers caught some of her hair at the same time and he winced. “Oh, sorry.”

“My hair won’t break off, Seth. Pull the pins out, and then run your fingers through my hair to find any you missed.”

One by one, Seth pulled the pins then gingerly placed his fingers at the base of her neck and ran his fingers up her scalp and out through the length of her waist–long hair, having to pull out sideways because he was so close behind her.

“Pins all out? Here’s the brush to smooth out any tangles. I usually do a hundred strokes every night.”

Seth was sure the first fifteen strokes through Lilly’s hair hurt, but she didn’t say anything. He found a rhythm, enjoying the silky golden strands running across his fingers as he brushed out to the tips of her hair. He lifted her hair to his nose to smell it. It smelled like the Blue Lilies Perfume he gave her, maybe along with a little “cattle” scent from being in the exhibit hall.

Lilly kept quiet, her eyes closed, looking like she was enjoying him brushing her hair as much as he was enjoying doing it for her. What would it be like to do this every night for my wife?

When he got done with the one hundred strokes, he set the brush aside, divided Lilly’s hair in thirds, and slowly braided it. She held a blue ribbon—apparently her favorite color, too—in her hand for him to tie the end of her braid.

“Okay, I’m done, so I’ll go now,” Seth said as he climbed off the bed and reached for his boots.

“Thank you, Seth. It felt so good to have my hair brushed out. Now could you help me out of my clothes?”

“What?!” Good grief, did he just squawk like a fourteen year old whose voice was starting to change?

“I need help out of my clothes and then you can wrap my ribs,” Lilly said as she moved off the bed to stand in front of him.

What did she learn while being in the Emporium? How to seduce a man? Could he do this without looking? But feeling without seeing might heighten his senses instead.

“I unbuttoned my shirtwaist, but I need you to carefully pull it off my shoulders and down my arms.”

Lilly turned away from him, and he slowly slid the shirtwaist off her arms, feeling her bare shoulders in the process. She didn’t have on a corset, or corset cover. She only had on her chemise under her shirtwaist.

“You need your long underwear on,” so I don’t see your bare skin.

“Don’t have any, but I suppose I should buy some for our trip home.”

“Yes, and boots, too. Your shoes are about worn through. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.” Think of a shopping list instead, to get your mind off her skin!

“Please unbutton my side seam on the left side of my skirt and pull it, and my two petticoats, off.”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t be doing that…” I bet my face is so red, I look sunburned.

“I’m afraid you can’t get them down, so you’ll have to pull them up over my head.”

Seth sighed. Just do it. The poor lady’s ribs hurt.

It took a couple of minutes to get everything unbuttoned, separated and up over her head after she slowly raised her arms. Then she stood there in her chemise and drawers, looking at him…waiting for…what?

“How about I slip your nightgown over your…underwear…so you stay warmer tonight?”

“I want to pull up my chemise so we can…”

“Nope, we are not doing anything, so lift up your arms as much as you can again because your nightgown is going on now.”

He might have pulled the gown over her head maybe a little too hard and fast, but it was done and he had his hand on the doorknob again.

“I meant so you could wrap my ribs…”

“Oh.” Now Seth was embarrassed because he’d been thinking of something else besides her injured side.

“And Seth?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have a goodnight kiss?”

Lilly laughed so hard she snorted when he looked back incredulously at her. The little tease. But after the little kiss they exchanged at their marriage ceremony today, he wouldn’t mind kissing her again.

Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017GOTX46/butterfield0e-20

About the Author

Linda Hubalek grew up on the Kansas prairie, always wanting to be a farmer like her parents and ancestors. After earning a college degree in Agriculture, marriage took Linda away from Kansas as her husband worked in engineering jobs in several states.

Meanwhile, Linda wrote historical fiction books about pioneer women who homesteaded in Kansas between 1854 to the early 1900s, especially her Swedish immigrant ancestors.

Linda Hubalek and her husband eventually moved back home to Kansas, where they raised American buffalo (bison) for a dozen years.

Linda is currently writing clean, sweet historical western romances set in the 1800s.

Sign up for Linda’s newsletter at www.LindaHubalek.com.to hear about the release of future books, contests and more.

Linda loves to connect with her readers, so please contact her through one of these social media sites.

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If you enjoyed her books, please post reviews on your favorite book sites.

“I can’t host the New Year’s Eve singles event tonight,” Angie said, her voice crackling slightly in Penny’s ear. “My sister thinks she might be in labor. Again. I need to get to the hospital right after my shift.”

“How many false alarms have there been?”

“Too many.” Angie sighed. “Remind me never to get pregnant. If I decide to have children, I’ll contact a stork. Or a cabbage patch.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks. But that’s not why I’m calling. I need someone to cover for me tonight.”

“Then you should call Mary. She’s always looking for extra hours.” Penny held the cell phone next to her ear with one hand and squeezed some ketchup onto her plate with the other. She dipped a fry and popped it into her mouth.

“You know how flustered Mary gets when she’s working alone. And this is such a big event.” Angie paused. “Penny—”

She closed her eyes at the pleading sound of Angie’s voice. The other woman was Penny’s dearest friend, as well as her supervisor at the small library branch where they both worked. Penny wanted to help her. Really. But there was no way in hell she was spending her New Year’s Eve at her workplace, especially as the host of this particular event.

“I know you’re really excited about the singles’ night, Angie,” she said. “And I know we need the money for children’s programs. Believe me, I’ll be grateful to get a larger budget. But I’d be a terrible host for the event. I just don’t see the library as a romantic hotspot. Or how we can connect a singles’ night to our branch’s mission.”

Penny loved the Battlefield Library. But it was hardly a repository for eligible bachelors. In fact, spotting a handsome, single man there evoked much the same reaction as watching a unicorn canter through the stacks: Awe. Wonder. Confusion. And then, inevitably, he turned out to have a life partner named Raoul or Steve. Or she’d see him listed in the sex offender database. Or he’d spend way too long in the true crime section, emerging sweaty and trembling.

Which reminded her—Bob had gotten a book in the delivery that morning. She needed to set Murderous Intent: The Most Gruesome Killing Spree Ever Recorded aside for him.

“I took care of the library-romance connection,” Angie said. “I came up with games and activities that involve books.”

“Are they bobbing for paperbacks?” Penny asked. “Because I might enjoy watching that.”

“Nah. I’ve got a few other things in mind. Sexier things.”

Penny paused with a fry halfway to her mouth. “Angie…”

Just last week, the two women had celebrated the end of Angie’s month-long work probation. The library administration had objected to her display of erotica, especially the big poster at the top. That sign had read “Spanking-New Books” and featured a flesh-colored book cover with a large pink handprint on it.

 Author bio:

 While I was growing up, my mother kept a stack of books hidden in her closet. She told me I couldn’t read them. So, naturally, whenever she left me alone for any length of time, I took them out and flipped through them. Those books raised quite a few questions in my prepubescent brain. Namely: 1) Why were there so many pirates? 2) Where did all the throbbing come from? 3) What was a “manhood”? 4) And why did the hero and heroine seem overcome by images of waves and fireworks every few pages, especially after an episode of mysterious throbbing in the hero’s manhood?

Thirty or so years later, I have a few answers. 1) Because my mom apparently fancied pirates at that time. Now she hoards romances involving cowboys and babies. If a book cover features a shirtless man in a Stetson cradling an infant, her ovaries basically explode and her credit card emerges. I have a similar reaction to romances involving spinsters, governesses, and librarians. 2) His manhood. Also, her womanhood. 3) It’s his “hard length,” sometimes compared in terms of rigidity to iron. I prefer to use other names for it in my own writing. However, I am not picky when it comes to descriptions of iron-hard lengths. At least in romances. 4) Because explaining how an orgasm feels can prove difficult. Or maybe the couples all had sex on New Year’s Eve at Cancun.

During those thirty years, I accomplished a few things. I graduated from Wake Forest University and earned my M.A. in American History from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I worked at a variety of jobs that required me to bury my bawdiness and potty mouth under a demure exterior: costumed interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg, high school teacher, and librarian. But I always, always read romances. Funny, filthy, sweet–it didn’t matter. I loved them all.

Now I’m writing my own romances with the encouragement of my husband and daughter. I found a kick-ass agent: Jessica Alvarez from Bookends, LLC. I have my own stack of books in my closet that I’d rather my daughter not read, at least not for a few years. I can swear whenever I want, except around said daughter. And I get to spend all day writing about love and iron-hard lengths.

So thank you, Mom, for perving so hard on pirates during my childhood. I owe you.

BLURB:

Sheriff Fletcher Adams has no intention of taking a wife, but when mail order bride Julia Benson is stranded at the train station after her intended husband rejects her, it starts to seem like a good idea.

Too bad she doesn’t agree.

EXCERPT

“Oh, really? And what is it you plan to do since you have nowhere to go and no money?” The sheriff glared at her.

“I will find a job,” Julia said.

“And at the end of the week they will hand your pay to a dead woman because you will have starved to death.”

With the blood pumping through her veins, she narrowed her eyes, wondering why in heaven’s name she was mad at him. The old “shoot the messenger” deal, no doubt. “Perhaps I will find a job that includes meals.”

“And a bed?”

She nodded.

“Don’t even think about taking that sort of a job,” he growled.

“Why? Because I’m a cripple? And no man would want me?” Good Lord, what had gotten into her? She had always been sweet, friendly, and kind. Right now she felt like a shrew, which is probably how Sheriff Adams viewed her. Most likely he was thinking how smart Mr. Johnson had been to walk away from her. She wished she could walk away from herself.

“No. You are not a cripple, you have a limp. And you are beautiful, and any man would want you.”

“Not Mr. Johnson.”

“He’s an idiot.”

BLURB
Alice: Bride of Rhode Island is thirteenth in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides series.

Fleeing her stepfather and an arranged marriage in Newport, Alice Endicott finds work as a seamstress at the Brown Textile Mill near Boston. When a devastating fire destroys the factory, she and all the girls face dire unemployment circumstances. But hope arrives when their manager, Roberta McDaniel, shares the Grooms’ Gazette with them. Each woman will choose a husband and become a mail-order bride. As Alice’s friends—Lottie, Leora, Judith, Beth, Lessie and Josie—embrace the idea, she too becomes caught up in the excitement of a grand new adventure.

When fisherman Frank Martel contacts her, Alice can’t pass up the opportunity to return to Rhode Island despite her stepfather’s presence. Upon arriving at the train station in Tiverton, however, Frank neglects to meet her.

James Martel is shocked to find a woman at the rail depot claiming to be his brother’s fiancée. Even more surprising is her connection to a man who ruined James’ father years before. When Frank confesses that he can no longer wed Alice, James steps forward to fill the role since the beautiful young woman holds the key to avenging the Martel name.

Can Alice convince her new husband that their marriage is worth saving once she discovers his subterfuge? And will James learn that love is more important than revenge?

A sweet romance set in 1890 America.  Amazon Link:  http://amzn.com/B017I0A3OW

EXCERPT

Alice paced near the tiny fireplace, female chatter from the kitchen beckoning. Making up her mind, she moved to the entrance where her friends were preparing supper.

“I have a dilemma,” she announced.

Judith looked up from the table, blowing wisps of reddish brown hair from her face as she ceased the chopping of two large heads of cabbage. They’d been lucky to purchase them with the rationing of funds from Lottie’s betrothed. Samuel Cooke had kept them fed when few resources were left to them; Lottie was lucky to have found a good man.

Beth stopped at the edge of the table, the pot in her hand poised mid-air. “What’s wrong, Alice?”

“I need to make a decision. I need everyone’s help.” Alice held out a letter.

Leora gasped. “Did you get a response from Mr. Hughes?”

Alice shook her head.

Leora crossed the room, took the missive from Alice, and began reading it. Finally, she raised her gaze, her dark eyes pools of concern. “I don’t understand. Who is Frank Martel?”

“I received this letter nearly a week ago,” Alice said. “He learned of our predicament through business channels and sought me out. I’ve yet to hear from Mr. Hughes in Iowa.” Alice paused, seeking to quiet her nerves. She was both distressed and excited. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if I ever will. And this Mr. Martel shows great promise.”

Judith frowned. “Has he proposed?”

Alice plastered a half-smile onto her lips. “Yes.”

Silence engulfed the room.

“This sounds very untoward,” Leora said quietly.

“I know what you’re thinking. I thought the very same thing. So I took the letter to Miss McDaniel.” Roberta McDaniel had been their manager at the Brown Textile Mill until it had burned down a month ago. In her efforts to help all the unmarried women in her employ, she’d encouraged them to consider the possibility of becoming mail-order brides. To that end, she’d instructed the girls to choose a husband from the Grooms’ Gazette, an advertisement of prospective grooms. “She contacted the matchmaker responsible for her sister’s happy union—I believe her name is Elizabeth Miller—and they both investigated. Frank Martel passed inspection.”

“Why would you change your mind?” Beth asked. “You liked that Mr. Hughes. I think you should wait.”

“How much longer can any of us delay?” Alice asked, panic rising in her voice. “We’re running out of money. In no time at all, we won’t be able to put food on the table. If I accept, it not only helps me, but all of you. The less people in the house, the better.”

Copyright © 2015 K. McCaffrey LLC

Thank you so much for inviting me to your lovely blog to tell you about Edwina, Bride of Connecticut in the American Mail Order Bride Series.

I was fortunate to be accepted for this unique endeavour (The American Mail Order Brides Series, 50 books from 45 authors. Starting on November 19, there will one book published per day through to January 7, 2016. Each story is 35K – 40K in length and priced at $2.99.)
BLURB: Joshua was a happy bachelor until his scheming sister lands him with a Mail Order Bride. Desperate to Escape Boston, Edwina accepts the marriage proposal she believes has come from him. Can a deceived bride, and a reluctant groom, find happiness together?

EXCERPT:  “You did what?” Joshua Sinclair glared at his sister.

“I pretended I was you and advertised for a Mail Order Bride in the Grooms’ Gazette.” Amy faced him, defiant. “You’ve been on your own too long. Hasn’t he, Tom?”

“Don’t bring me into this.” Tom grinned at his wife.

“Damn it woman. You had no right.” Josh thrust his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to become even more riotous than normal. “You can damn well have that ridiculous advertisement removed.”

“It’s too late.” Amy looked pleadingly at him. “Edwina has already answered and agreed to marry you.”

“Edwina! Matrimony is not on my agenda. Even if it was, I wouldn’t be marrying some desperate spinster who has been left on the shelf.”

“She’s from Boston.”

“Boston!” A dagger thrust of pain pierced his heart. Three years and Maryanne’s betrayal still hurt. He would never trust another woman.

***

BIO:  Margaret Tanner is an Award Winning Historical Romance Author who has now added Western Historical Romance to her writing repertoire.

She lives in Australia, is married and has three grown up sons.

With the encouragement of friend and Western Romance author, Susan Horsnell, she has fallen in love with writing Western Historical Romance of the sweet variety.  Frontier Australia and frontier America, have many similarities, isolated communities, a large single male population and a lack of eligible women, so it wasn’t hard to write in the Western genre.

She has always loved Westerns, soaking up all the Western TV shows and movies when she was young. Bonanza was her all-time favourite show. Little Joe Cartwright was her hero. Western Author, Zane Grey was her favourite author at that time.

Margaret has a short story published in the Western Romance Anthology, Rawhide ‘N Roses which was a 2015 Rone Finalist.

She has a novella, Christmas Cowboy, published in the Silver Belles and Stetsons Christmas Anthology.

Margaret has just finished writing her second Western Romance novella.

LINKS:

http://amzn.com/B017GP1HXU

http://www.margarettanner.com/

http://www.amazon.com/author/margarettanner