Karen Witemeyer 
We had a great turn out for our little Friday the 13th shindig. Thank y’all for comin’.
I threw everyone’s name into the hat, and the lucky winners are . . .
CrystalGB
and
Ashley Mooore
Ladies, please email me at: karen@karenwitemeyer.com with your mailing address so I can get your books out to you. Congratulations!
Happy Friday the 13th!!! I’m determined to make this a LUCKY day for two of today’s visitors. In honor of To Win Her Heart being named a finalist in the 2012 Romance Writers of America’s RITA contest for Best Inspritational Romance, I’ll be giving away two copies of Levi and Eden’s story.
And because my stomach is still all fluttery over the announcement and I’m having trouble concentrating, I thought I’d post an excerpt from the book and hopefully entice you into leaving comments for your chance to win.
In this scene, our heroine, Eden Spencer (spinster librarian and daughter of the town founder) has just met the man applying for the blacksmith position. In her father’s absence, it is her duty to ensure he is qualified for the job, but once she gets a good look at Levi Grant, she has a hard time keeping her mind on her task.
Oh, and as a side note for those not familiar with the story – Levi has a speech impediment that gives Eden a false first impression of his intelligence. For a book-loving librarian, a man who has trouble stringing a sentence together is not much of a catch. So why can’t she stop staring at him?
Excerpt from To Win Her Heart:
Eden fiddled with the bonnet strings that draped over the arm of her chair and into her lap. Even though she and Mr. Grant were not alone in the room, it suddenly felt as though they were. She glanced in his direction, and her gaze collided with his. They both smiled then quickly looked elsewhere. Well, Mr. Grant looked elsewhere. Eden couldn’t seem to find another object in the room on which to rest her gaze. But it wasn’t as if she wanted to look at him. The man was as big as a mountain. Where else was she supposed to look?
He certainly possessed an abundance of brawn. Eden’s attention flittered over his arms as he leaned forward and balanced his forearms on his knees. The fabric of his sleeves seemed too meager to contain the muscles within as it stretched thin over his biceps. The heavy aspects of ironwork would be no hardship for this man. It was unfortunate that his intellect hadn’t developed to the same extent as his physique. Then again, he wasn’t interviewing for a position as schoolmaster, so what did it matter? Except that it did matter—to her—a bit more than it should.
A vague feeling of disappointment had circulated through her when she first heard him speak. Why his halting verbiage should bother her, she had no idea. It wasn’t as if she had any personal attachment to the man.
Eden sat up straighter in her chair, uncrossing her ankles then crossing them again in the opposite direction. She forced her eyes away from the blacksmith, glancing behind him to where Mr. Draper stood hunched over the desk, penning an addendum into the lease contract. Unfortunately, Mr. Grant chose that moment to straighten his own posture, the top of his head moving to block a good portion of the banker’s back and half of the preacher’s arm from her view. Eden bit the inside of her lip.
For heaven’s sake. She was tempted to think he had somehow discerned her intention to ignore him and taken action to prevent it. But, no. The man was just restless. He lifted a hand and scratched a spot behind his ear as he turned his face toward the window. When he finished, a small tuft of hair stuck out, somehow making the gargantuan man seem almost boyish. Eden’s lips curved slightly before she pressed them back down into an indifferent line. His thick, dark brown hair was cropped into short waves. She wouldn’t call them curls; that descriptor sounded much too feminine for a man as rugged as Mr. Grant. However, the strands looked as though they would easily wind around a person’s finger … should a … uh … person’s finger have cause to be in his hair.
The smith glanced back at that moment, and Eden dropped her gaze to her lap. Where her right index finger had apparently wound itself up in her bonnet ribbon while she’d been contemplating the man’s hair. She immediately extricated the iniquitous digit and gave it a firm glare.
Eventually Eden learns there there is much more depth to this quiet man than a mound of muscle and hair that temps her fingers to bury themselves in its waves, and it is this depth of character that truly wins her heart. But a stunning first impression never hurts, right? Ha!
How about you–any memorable first impressions you’d like to share? Or maybe like Eden, you had a false first impression later proved wrong. Leave a comment to be entered in the giveaway.
Oh, and if you would like to read the entire first chapter of Levi and Eden’s story, click here.
I threw all the names in the hat and drew . . .
Hilltop Farmwife!!!
Congratulations!
Please contact me at karen@karenwitemeyer.com with your mailing address so I can send your book out on the next stage.
I hope everyone has a pleasant and fashionable weekend!
Women have always been drawn to fashion, and the Texas frontier was no different than any other setting. From wealthy ranch wives to schoolmarms to women working on the farm, females shared a common thirst for fashion. Practicality won out for slopping the pigs or hanging out the wash, but for church, a picnic, or party, every woman wanted to look her best. And with the advent of fashion magazines becoming readily available through the post, a woman need not live in the fine cities of the east to know what the latest styles dictated.
Harper’s Bazaar, Peterson’s Magazine, The Delineator, and Godey’s Lady’s Book were some of the favorites during the latter half of the 19thcentury.
My favorite era to write about is the 1880s. Early in the decade, we see lovely slender silhouettes. The bell-shaped skirts of the Civil War era had been left behind and the bustles of the 1870s had not yet made their comeback, so the style of the day exemplified grace and elegance. However, the tight-fitting style wasn’t always practical.
This sample from Godey’s (at left) shows the slender lines, layered flounces on the skirts, and the vibrant colors women of this time period enjoyed. The women on the ends are wearing the snug fitting basque bodices that extend to the edge of the hips while the dresses on the women next to them exemplify the longer polonaise style bodice that becomes more of an overskirt as it drapes past the knees or even the ankles.
Below is a fashion plate from the September 1881 issue of Peterson’s Magazine. Note the tiny, corseted waists and gathered, draping fabric across the hips and upper leg area of the two models on the right. This horizontal draping was very indicative of the early 1880s. Some of the most popular fabrics included silk (lightweight for eveningwear, faille, lampas, and gros grain varieties for walking dresses), wool (merino, cashmere), satin (often brocaded), and velvet. Of course, women with a more modest budget had to make do with linen, muslin, and calico. Yet in the hands of a capable dressmaker, the results still translated into fashionable ensembles.
So what 1881 fashion best describes your personality?
Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of my first release, A Tailor-Made Bride. In this story, my heroine, Hannah, is a seamstress who always keeps abreast of the latest trends while finding ways to adapt them to the lifestyle of the women in Coventry, Texas.
A Tailor-Made Bride was a 2011 RITA finalist for Best First Book as well as a finalist for the 2011 National Reader’s Choice Award.
So many things drove the westward expansion of the 1800s. The lure of a better life. Cheap land. Adventure. The railroad. Art.
Art?
Wait a minute. How did art drive the westward expansion?
In the mid-1800s, a new wave hit the artistic community, a desire to show nature in it’s most glorified state. Known as the Hudson River School, this movement focused on dramatic landscapes painted with romanticism and wonderful uses of light and detail to make the subject even more attractive than it might usually appear. It derived its name from the original locales that were painted–such places as the Hudson River Valley, Catskills, Adirondack, and the White Mountains. As the movement grew and inspired a second generation of painters, however, the ladscapes they painted encompassed wilderness areas from as far away as South America and Syria. The themes of the paintings fit so perfectly with the American persona of the time. Themes of discovery, exploration, and settlement. And for a growing number of east coast citizens, the appeal came in viewing untamed lanscapes and idyllic nature scenes so different from the bustling cities to which they had become accustomed.
Thomas Cole is considered by most to be the father of the Hudson River School, but it was his prize pupil, Frederic Edwin Church, who became a true celebrity. Some of the finest works from the Hudson River School were painted between 1855 and 1875, and Church’s works consituted the majority. His paintings are truly stunning. I must admit that I fell in love with them myself. Here are a few of my favorites:
You really have to see larger images to do them justice.
In the 20th century, the term luminism was coined to describe this style. It is characterized by attention to detail and the hiding of brush strokes so that nothing distracts from the vision of nature being depicted. Artists in the Hudson River School for the most part believed that nature in the form of the American landscape was a manifestation of God. Therefore they painted highly realistic yet idealized renderings of what they had seen on their travels.
Often, they visited such dangerous, hard-to-reach places, that they could only carry a sketch book. They depended on these sketches and their memories to reconstruct the images they had seen once they returned to the safety of home.
In my current work in progress, my heroine’s mother was an art teacher back east who was greatly influenced by the Hudson River School. It is her dedication to this style of art that drives her to leave her safe city life to search out her own wilderness to paint. This, of course, eventually leads her to Texas.
What type of art speaks to your heart? I’ve always preferred realist landscapes that capture the glory of God’s creation. That’s probably why these paintings gripped me so completely. What about you? Do you have a painting or print in your house that you just adore? What painting would you buy if money was no object? I’d love to hear about it.
Readers and interviewers often ask about what got me interested in writing western romances. Well, there’s a reason my logo features a wagon wheel. It all started with a wagon train.
The early seeds were planted with Laura Ingalls and Little House on the Prairie, both the books and the television series. But it wasn’t until the late 80’s when I was a senior in high school that the love affair truly began. I can still recall standing in a bookstore during one of those high school band trip time killers – you know, the ones where the bus pulls up to the local mall and lets the kids loose on the food court and shops with the only perameter being, “Meet back here by 5:30.” Well, where else would I spend time but in a bookstore? Besides, I needed something to read on the bus ride home.
I sat staring at the shelves, picking up book after book but not realy finding anything I liked. Then a friend (a boy, no less!) suggested I try Dana Fuller Ross’s Wagon’s West Series. Apparently his sister liked them. I picked up Independence!, the first in the series, and was instantly hooked. I can’t remember how many I ended up reading, but I think I read at least the first 8, up through Nevada! There were 24 total in the series.
Now that my appetite for romance and adventure on the western trail had been whetted, I sought more. Imagine my delight when I stumbled across Saturday reruns of the old westerns from the 50’s and 60’s. Bonanza. The Big Valley. The Rifleman. I loved them all.
Yet when I saw a promo for Wagon Train, teenage heart palpitations nearly sent me into a swoon. I’d thought Pernell Roberts was to-die-for as Adam Cartwright, but when I caught a glimpse of Robert Fuller as the trail scout, Cooper Smith, I was in love. And the fact that the channel only showed Wagon Train for a short time before discontinuing it, only made my heart grow fonder. We were star-crossed lovers, Cooper and I, held apart by a tragic whim of fate.
About this same time, my best friend got me hooked on old movies. We’d go to the video store and try out everything from Audrey Hepburn to Fred Astaire. I started watching the classic movie channel on TV as well. And that’s where I found it. My favorite western movie of all time. Westward the Women.
Never heard of it? Don’t feel bad. Most haven’t. It doesn’t star John Wayne or Gary Cooper. In fact, nearly the entire cast is female. Odd for a western, right? But that’s part of the reason I loved it. That and the fact that it all takes place on a . . . you guessed it . . . wagon train.
In the story, a land developer arranges for the transport of moral, able-bodied women to travel from Chicago to his settlement in California to become wives to the frontiersmen there. The women have a variety of motivations for joining the train. Some are in financial straits. Some have lost husbands and
have no where else to go. Some are simply looking to make a new start. The wagon master has serious doubts about their ability to cope with the arduous demands of the journey and tries to convince the land developer to give up on the scheme. The women prove tougher than he expects, though, and with a little training on firearms and team driving, they set out. As the wagon master’s respect for the women in his care grows so do the women’s respect for themselves. The film destroys sterotypes of women as the weaker sex. And the central love story between the wagon master and the French saloon dancer who is looking to leave her past behind demonstrates that love really does conquor all.
Westward the Women came out in 1951 and was based on a concept idealized by Hollywood legend, Frank Capra, after he read an article in a 1940’s magazine about a group of South American women who crossed the Isthmus to become brides for a group of male settlers. It was filmed the Utah mountains and California desert and all the actresses were given extensive training in handling frontier weapons, bullwhip cracking, blacksmithing, horseback riding, mule driving, and assembling and disassembling covered wagons. My writer’s research heart is drooling in envy.
Alas, Netflix doesn’t carry it, so I might have to find a copy I can purchase. Because even though I haven’t seen it in probably 20 years or more, I still remember it in vivid detail. I still want to be like those women–tough, determined, and ready to take on any challenge this journey of life throws at me.
So what about you? What got you started on western romances? Books, movies, television, growing up on a ranch? I’d love to hear your story!
I am an avid cross-stitcher. When I can find time, that is. I love creating art with needle and thread. My best friend in high school is the one who got me hooked. She and I both worked in a little California tourist town called Solvang one summer, and we found part-time jobs in needlework stores. I might have been forced to wear a peasant blouse and a red Danish corset covered in flowers, but I found a hobby there that has given me years of enjoyment.
Needlework is an artform that has been around since ancient times. There are many different types of stitches, but cross-stitch is my personal favorite. It is simple in that the needleworker makes tiny Xs with her thread, usually on linen or some other fabric with an even weave. The tiny holes in the woven fabric serve as a grid for the stitcher to place her design, much like tiles in a mosaic. Others would work on silk, using only their artistic eye to keep the design straight and stitches even. My artistic eye is not nearly keen enough for that. I definitely need a grid.
The earliest cross-stitch pattern books appeared in Germany and France in the 1500’s. But it would be many years before pattern books became readily available. Women would stitch samples of their favorite stitches or patterns on long strips of narrow cloth creating a “sampler” to refer to when they wished to create a design, usually as an embelishment for clothing, table linens, or pillow cases. These samplers were not intended for display. They were usually rolled up and stored in a drawer, and often handed down from mother to daughter.
In the 1700’s, educating women became more accepted, and mothers often taught their daughters two skills at once by having them reproduce numbers and letters in cross-stitch upon their samplers. When settlers came to America, they brought this teaching method with them. Once the girls mastered the techniques, they would display their art.
The samplers below were stitched by two young Massachusetts girls. Sally Noble completed hers at age twelve in 1798, and ten-year-old Dolly Parker finished hers in 1824. Exquisite work for such young hands!
Gradually, patterns became more detailed. A shift could be seen from the two-dimensional designs of the samplers, to three-dimensional landscapes with shading and depth just like in paintings. Not only were these works hung on walls, but they were used to upholster chairs and footstools, create cushions and coin purses, and decorate fire screens. The advancing art of dying allowed more variation in thread color, and by the 19th century, cross-stitch had become a passion. Women’s magazines included hand-colored charts, and soon women from all social classes were learning the art.
With the advent of embroidery machines, however, needlework fell into a decline. Since women could buy embroidered clothing and linens at much cheaper prices, cross-stitch once again became simply a leisure activity. It wasn’t until the 1960’s that counted cross-stitch regained it popularity. This time the emphasis was on decorative stitches with metallic or beaded embellishments. Thousands upon thousands of charts are in existence today with incredibly detailed patterns. However, you will still continue to see designers breathe life into old stitching traditions, with samplers and two dimensional artwork.
I usually try to complete at least one large cross-stitch project a year. In 2010, I completed one that is not a sampler, but it harkens back to that time with it’s two-dimensional design and simple lines. The Noah’s Ark that you see below on the left. This past year, I finished a pattern called Celtic Christmas. While it’s design features a woman from hundreds of years ago, the pattern itself utilizes the modern embellishments of metallic thread and extensive beading. I hope this art form continues to grow and flourish for centuries to come while always remembering its past.
So are any of you cross-stitchers? Maybe you’re a quilter or some other form of needleworker. Or maybe you love to scrapbook or arrange flowers. What is your favorite hobby, and why do you love it?
Christmas carols have to be my favorite form of holiday cheer. My husband and I both sang in choir during college as well as in an adult classical chorus a few years ago. My children love to sing too, and one of our friends from church jokingly calls us the family Von Trapp.
As soon as the Thanksgiving dishes have been cleared away, we immediately grab the Christmas CDs and switch out the music in the car as well as in the home stereo. The kids love jamming out to the Phineas & Ferb Christmas album while my husband prefers Straight No Chaser. I love them all. But there is a special place in my heart for the classic carols that echo sounds of ages past.
One of my favorites is I Wonder as I Wander.Written in a minor key, this hauntingly beautiful song evokes strong emotion with it’s simple music and lyrics.
I Wonder as I Wander originated as a folksong from deep within Appalachia. As is true of most folk songs, it was handed down through an oral tradition, the original author unknown. However, in 1933, a collector of folk music, John Jacob Niles traveled to Murphy, North Carolina and came across a revivalist family camped out in the town square. The mother was cooking and hanging her wash on the Confederate monument. The family had been deemed a public nuisance and was on the verge of being ejected by the police. They needed to hold one more tent meeting in order to earn enough gas money to take them out of town.
This is where Niles encountered the young daughter of the family, Annie Morgan. Unwashed but exceptionally pretty, she sang three lines of a song that captured Niles’s attention. He paid her a quarter to repeat the tune. And another, and another. He paide her eight times in all, giving him the chance to transcribe her music and put her lyrics on paper. She sang the same three lines each time, but it was enough to inspire Niles to expand the song and eventually publish it.
Today, this classic carol lives on, it’s haunting melody and spiritual lyrics touching untold hearts. And it all started with a young girl’s song.
I Wonder as I Wander
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor on’ry people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
When Mary birthed Jesus ’twas in a cow’s stall
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all
But high from God’s heaven, a star’s light did fall
And the promise of ages it then did recall.
If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing
A star in the sky or a bird on the wing
Or all of God’s Angels in heaven to sing
He surely could have it, ’cause he was the King
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor on’ry people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
In case you’re not familiar with the beautiful melody, I’ve included a recording for you to enjoy. Just click on the song title below. Merry Christmas!
With all the online dating sites these days, it might seem that cyber romance is the wave of the future. But as King Solomon so wisely said, there is nothing new under the sun.
Back in 1879, a female telegraph operator from Boston by the name of Ella Cheever Thayer published a romance novel entitled Wired Love. I ran across this wonderful little book while doing some research into telegraph operators. Apparently many operators were women and could often be identified as such by the delicacy of their “sounding” on the wires. The hero in Miss Thayer’s novel, Clem Stanwood, knows right away that the operator at the “B m” station is female.
Nattie Rogers is intrigued by the mysterious “C” at the “X n” station and seeks out converations that soon turn flirtatious. These two telegraph operators fall in love over the wire without ever laying eyes on one another. I haven’t read the entire novel, but the few chapters I did read were full of delightful humor and banter.
There is one scene about halfway through that was priceless. A case of mistaken identity had scared Nattie off, but Mr. Stanwood arranges a visit to her boarding house and while sitting amongst others in the parlor, he begins tapping out code with his pencil against a marble table top. Nattie recognizes her call name and, taking up a pair of scissors, drums out her own answer. They carry on an entire conversation this way with no one else in the parlor suspecting their action were anything more than idle tapping. Until, that is, Mr. Stanwood reveals himself to be the real “C”.
Nattie jumps to her feet and exclaims aloud, “What do you mean? It cannot be possible!”
Don’t you love it? Hysterical!
Of course everyone else in the room thinks she’s lost her mind except the hero who crosses the room to take her hand. Ahhh…
Wired Love: A Romance of Dots and Dashes was a best selling book for over 10 years. 
And why not? The story is timeless. Remember You’ve Got Mail, which was adapted to e-mail from The Shop Around the Corner where Jimmy Stewart did his courting through letters? Very similar premise. And there are so many parrallels to dating in today’s “wired” world. Can you trust that she looks like her description? Is he a gentleman or a stalker? How about the awkwardness of the first face-to-face meet? And with all the abbreviations used on the telegraph lines, it reminded me of the text speak our kids use today. It is really rather eerie how easily Ella Thayer’s story translates to our contemporary society 130 years after it was written.
Wired Love is in the public domain and can be downloaded for free from Amazon or you can read it on Google Books. Those who love research will find a treasure trove of details concerning how a telegraph was run. Those who love to travel back in time will enjoy delving into authentic 19th century life. And those who love a clean love story with a healthy dose of chuckles along the way will find a great read. You might want to give it a try.
The first freeze of the season hit us this morning in Abilene, Texas. The cold snap reminds me that winter is fast approaching. Those blue northerner winds that cut through you like ice shards, sweaters, fuzzy socks, and lots of snuggle time with loved ones. Like any season, there are
things to look forward to with excitement and things we tend to dread. One thing that I enjoy about the cooler temperatures, however, is the excuse to drink hot beverages. I’m not a coffee drinker, but I love hot tea sweetened with honey or even better . . . hot chocolate.
Hot chocolate makes me think of the ski lodge at Tahoe where my family used to go for our annual ski trip at Christmas. It makes me think of my mom and me huddled on the couch watching movies. It makes me think of my daughter who inherited my sweet tooth. But it also makes me think of my first heroine, Hannah Richards, in A Tailor-Made Bride. She couldn’t start her morning without a cup of hot cocoa.
Hannah mastered her sewing skills while working under the tutelage of an established dressmaker in San Antonio, but before coming to Texas, she lived with her mother and younger sister in Dorchester, Massachusetts. To support her girls after her husband died, Mrs. Richards took a job in the Baker Chocolate Mill where she was rewarded for her diligent work with discounts on their products. So instead of coffee or tea, the Richards women drank cocoa.
Not knowing how available breakfast cocoa would be in Coventry, Hannah made sure to pack one of the large five pound canisters in her trunks. And upon arrival, her first order of business, beyond finding her shop and unloading her belongings, was to arrange for a daily delivery of milk. One couldn’t drink breakfast cocoa without milk.
To prepare her morning cocoa, Hannah would first need to boil 2 cups of water in a kettle. While the water heated, she would take a small pan and mix 1 ½ tablespoons of her Baker’s Breakfast Cocoa, 2 tablespoons of sugar, and a few grains of salt. Once the water boiled, she would add ½ cup to the cocoa mixture and stir until it formed a paste. Then she pours the rest of the boiling water into the pan and lets the mixture boil for one minute. In the meantime, she is also scalding 2 cups of milk in a second pan. When the mixture has boiled for a minute and the milk is ready, she turns the chocolate mixture into the scalded milk and beats it for two minutes with a hand-held egg beater. Not quite as convenient as the instant packets we have today, but something tells me it would taste much better Hannah’s way.
