Hello everyone, Winnie Griggs here.
I’m so excited to announce that my next release, The Heart of Honor, is the sixth book in the Petticoats & Patriots series, and it will be released one week from tomorrow.
This book was truly a labor of love. The characters came alive for me in a way that surprised even me, and what a story they had to tell! It grew far beyond what I’d originally imagined, ultimately coming in at nearly twice my planned word count.
Here’s a sneak peek from the opening pages.
Hawthorne, Texas
Late May 1876
Mercy Owens shifted slightly in her chair. Her discomfort wasn’t just the unfamiliar vantage of sitting at a student desk instead of standing at the front of the room. It had more to do with the committee’s current debate that had circled back to its starting point.
“The veterans should lead the procession,” Colonel Briggs said, his tone firm and unyielding. “They’re not representing some ancestor—we’re speaking of men who served with their own lives.”
Mrs. Whitaker’s fan snapped open. “And I have already said, Colonel, that the founding families represent the very beginning of this town. It would be a poor sort of celebration that did not place them in proper precedence.” She inclined her head slightly. “We are, first and foremost, marking the golden anniversary of Hawthorn’s founding—as well as the centennial of our nation.”
Mercy lowered her gaze to the paper before her and let her pencil drift into a small, absent pattern along the margin.
Beside her, Reverend Fields spoke up. “If we are to mark the centennial with proper reverence, then those with Revolutionary patriot lineage ought to be given their due.”
Daniel Carter exhaled and leaned forward, all business. “We’re not arranging a history lecture—we’re organizing a parade. I asked for details so I can do my part. I need numbers and mode—how many mounted, how many in wagons or walking. We can sort the rest once we know what we’re working with.”
Practical. Direct. Necessary. And not wrong. Daniel was well-suited to being head of logistics.
But his point fell on deaf ears. They weren’t listening to one another, only waiting their turn to press the same point again.
Then it came—a brief lull. Not agreement, only the absence of someone speaking. Mercy drew a breath and stepped into the void before it closed again.
“As I noted earlier,” she said, lifting her head, “there are still several families whose records remain incomplete. Particularly those living outside town. Until those are verified, we won’t have a reliable count.”
A few heads turned—some in acknowledgment, others in mild impatience—and Mercy felt the familiar weight of both.
Daniel frowned slightly. “How many are we missing?”
“A small number,” Mercy said. “But not insignificant. Some of the outlying farms have been here since the early days of the settlement. Their contributions simply haven’t been recorded.”
Mrs. Whitaker tilted her head. “And you intend to gather this information?”
Mercy held her expression steady, though a quiet thought pressed forward—no one had shown this much interest when she’d presented her report earlier. “If I’m to vouch for the accuracy of the Roll of Honor, yes.”
There was a brief pause. Not disagreement, exactly. But not full support, either.
It was a familiar space to occupy, that narrow ground between being heard and being set aside. Her reports were accepted readily enough—but their full weight rarely seemed to land all at once.
Mayor Caldwell gave a measured nod. “See to it, Miss Owens. We need your findings before we can finalize the procession order.”
Mercy inclined her head. “I’ll begin calls on the outlying properties tomorrow.”
“Good,” Daniel said, already turning back to his notes. “The sooner we have a complete list, the better.”
Voices rose again—quicker this time, words overlapping where before they had waited their turn. Mercy felt a tightening in the room as patience wore thin.
At the front of the room, Mayor Caldwell finally straightened. “We’ll table the question of parade order for now,” he said, tapping the desk lightly to draw their attention. “Until Miss Owens completes her records and we can review the full list, we’ve no grounds for a final decision.”
A few reluctant nods followed. Colonel Briggs didn’t look satisfied, but he didn’t object.
Mercy wasn’t certain how a count would address everyone’s concerns but she held her peace—the discussion had already gone on longer than it should.
“One final report,” the mayor continued. “Colonel?”
Briggs shifted his stance. “I’ve spoken with each of the veterans. They were honored to be asked. David Mulligan can’t ride on account of paralysis, but I told him we’d see him included in a wagon.”
“How many will be riding?” Daniel asked.
“An even dozen.” The colonel glanced her way. “That includes the outlying farms and ranches, so I don’t expect that number to change.”
Mercy nodded.
“Just one more thing you should be aware of.” Colonel Briggs paused as if weighing his words. “One of the veterans, while expressing his thanks for the invitation, declined the honor.”
“Declined?” Daniel repeated.
Mrs. Whitaker’s brows lifted. “I can’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing.”
“He gave no reason,” Briggs said. “And I didn’t feel I should push for one.”
“Then we’ll account for it when we finalize the numbers,” the mayor said, already moving on to old business.
Voices shifted again, turning—almost too easily—to the proposed fireworks display. Mercy listened only in part, aware instead of how quickly the earlier moment was slipping away, thinning between one topic and the next before it could take hold.
But it didn’t sit easily with her.
A man who had served refused to be recognized, honored.
Something in that niggled at her—quiet but insistent—refusing to be shrugged off.
The meeting finally ended. Chairs scraped. Papers were gathered. Conversations broke into smaller threads as people rose to leave, the earlier tension thinning into practical motion.
Mercy’s thoughts circled to her upcoming tasks.
Outlying families. Unfinished histories. And below it all, this reluctant hero.
She waited until Colonel Briggs stepped away from the others before crossing the room.
“Colonel,” she said quietly, “for my records—may I have the name of the gentleman who declined?”
He looked at her for a moment, as though weighing the necessity of the question, then gave a short nod.
“Porter,” he said. “Wilson Porter.”
Mercy repeated the name silently. Porter.
Yes… she knew of him. Not in any personal way—but enough.
Enough to give her an idea of just how to approach him.
The Heart of Honor
She’s fighting to honor the past. He’s haunted by it.
As Hawthorn, Texas prepares for a grand celebration honoring America’s centennial and the town’s own fifty-year history, schoolteacher and archivist Mercy Owens is determined to see that every act of sacrifice and service is properly remembered. So when one local veteran refuses to take part in the festivities, she cannot simply let the matter rest.
Livery stable owner Wilson Porter has spent years quietly rebuilding his life after the Civil War left him carrying wounds no one can see. Respected by the town but haunted by the past, he wants no public recognition—especially not from a committee determined to call him a hero.
But as Mercy’s research draws her deeper into Wilson’s history, and a series of shared journeys begins to chip away at the walls between them, both must confront long-held beliefs about honor, sacrifice, and worth. Because sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is allow themselves to be truly seen.
Set against the backdrop of America’s 1876 centennial celebration, The Heart of Honor is a heartfelt historical romance about quiet courage, second chances, and a love strong enough to heal old wounds.
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OK HERE WE GO!
Oh, yeah, it’s a clash of titanic proportions. I’ll add here that there are three MORE books coming, beyond the six in that banner at the top, and Belle Tanner appears in them, too. Always her usual, easy-going self (kidding). One of my favorite scenes of all time is in Doctor in Petticoats when Belle Tanner appears and despite a terrible situation, somehow, once Belle enters the picture, we know everything’s gonna be okay.
Howdy!
