The Silver Pen
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The Midnight Wrangler
Annie Jo squinted ahead. The rustlers hadn't seen them yet, by God's grace. This was the second theft in as many months. She had thought the extra precautions would stop it. Anger, sharp and bitter, rose in her throat as she watched her cattle driven further into the narrow pass.
A Soldier’s Keepsake: A Fireside Conversation with Mr. James Calloway and Miss Sarah Whitmore
As our conversation came to its quiet close, the room filled with the soft clinking of china and the murmur of wind in the trees. I took my leave with a bouquet of Sweet William in hand and a story etched deep in my heart.
Letters from Sagebrush Ridge
To break the silence, and perhaps her own growing loneliness, Marian had started writing letters to her sister back east. In those missives, Hank became a shadowy presence, “the injured man,” “the quiet stranger.”
Betrayal in Bloom
In the carriage ride home, Juliet clutched the damning bouquet, her mind racing. Who would do this? Who wished to see her reputation in tatters? She had cultivated only friendships among the debutantes and had never given cause for jealousy or rivalry.
A Betrothal in Bloom: An Intimate Q&A with Lord Nigel Ashcombe and Miss Mary Smith
What a contrast, then, to find myself this spring in the gentle warmth of Lord Ashcombe’s home in Mayfair. The couple sits near one another on a rosewood settee, a tea service between them and the afternoon light filtering softly through lace curtains.
Dust and Deliverance
Mercy crossed her arms. She’d not laid eyes on Everett Tate in five years—not since he’d broken off their engagement with nothing but a note and a trail of boot prints heading west.