Tag: Cheryl Pierson

A NEW SERIES–COMING SOON FROM CHERYL PIERSON! by Cheryl Pierson

I’m obsessed with mail-order bride stories. I can’t imagine what would make a young lady leave her home and head west to marry someone she’d never met, live in unfamiliar surroundings, and basically consign herself to a life of uncertainty from the moment she stepped foot on the train (or stagecoach).

But this “wondering” was what got me started on a massive writing project that I’m loving every minute of! My SWEET TEXAS GAMBLE series (and this is my first series!) was born of wondering what would happen if a gambler, Calum Ross, had won some mail-order brides for himself, his cousin Blake, and their best friends Paxton, Collin, Liam, and Jordan Taylor—four brothers who they’d grown up with.

Returning to Texas when the Civil War ends, the men are eager to get back to life as it was “before” they went off to fight. Calum has all but forgotten that odd bet he “won” in a smoky bar near the end of the war, and the others never even knew about it. Of course, marriage is the very last thing on any of their minds on their travels home. 

The six brides who are traveling to Texas from “back east” are as different from one another as any people could be, but during this long journey, they have embraced one another and become as close as sisters—they are family long before they ever cross the Red River.

The brides arrive before the men, to the unsuspecting Taylor family’s spacious home—and this excerpt is about the greeting they receive.

As I said, this is slated to be a series, as each of the couples have their own problems to overcome, with issues that happened before they ever met—and also, those that any couple might face—especially since they are starting marriage on such shaky ground.

I’m hoping this first book of the series will be released by early fall—and I’ll be sharing more about this venture as time goes by—but let me introduce you to some of my characters from SWEET TEXAS GAMBLE!

EXCERPT:

“Oh…my…stars,” Noelle gasped as the coach pulled to a halt in front of the elegant Spanish-style stucco home.

“As I live and breathe…” Angelica murmured. “Things are looking up already.”

“If we’re welcomed here, that is,” Tabitha added.

“Which we might not be,” Cami said quietly.

“Only one way to find out, ladies,” Jessamyn said firmly. “We’ll ask Mr. Fielding to wait a moment and see what kind of reception we get. No need to unload the luggage until we see.”

Just then, the front door opened wide and a man emerged. At the same time, the stage driver and shotgun rider called out a greeting, and the man lowered the barrel of the rifle he carried.

“Ain’t no call to shoot us, Lowell. We’re bringin’ a bevy of beautiful brides to your door!” Arnold joshed. He stepped lively to the stage door and opened it, and the women began to emerge in the heat of the June day.

 

“What in the cornbread hell—Arnold, is this some kind of sorry joke you’re pulling?”

The driver gave the man a peeved look, his bushy brows furrowing sharply. “I’ve saved you a drive into town, Taylor,” he said in a low growl. “The least you can do is be respectful in front of ladies.”

“Ladies!” Taylor scoffed loudly. “Load ’em back up. Only one here needs a bride is my foreman, J.A. Decker, and I ain’t gonna tempt him with a woman.”

“What’s going on, Lowell?” A woman’s voice came from somewhere inside the open doorway.

“Nothing, Ellen, just—”

A woman with a head of dark hair and emerald green eyes peered around the door, then, a wide smile of greeting lighting her features she moved past her husband onto the porch.

“Arnold Fielding, and Joe Darwin! Oh, and some weary travelers! Is there trouble?” Her look turned anxious.

“Only just now, Mrs. Taylor,” Joe muttered darkly.

She whirled to look at her husband, who towered over her by a good ten inches. Defiantly, she turned back to the group in the front yard and graciously announced, “Please, come inside and refresh yourselves.”  Looking past them, she motioned one of the stable boys forward. “Jose, please unhitch the team and take care of the horses. They’re hot and tired, too.”

The boy nodded, moving toward the horses.

“Should we unload the—” Arnold began.

“That can wait until we’ve cooled off some,” Ellen interrupted, motioning them forward. With a welcoming smile, she threw the door wide. “We have guests, Pilar,” she called.

Si, senora,” came a muffled voice.

Lowell Taylor stood aside as the travelers climbed the front steps and entered his house. As Arnold brought up the rear, Lowell put a staying hand on his shoulder. “What the hell, Arnie?”

Arnold shook his head. “I don’t know any more’n you. They say they’re mail-order brides on their way here from back east somewheres.”

Where back east? Hell, ever’thing’s ‘back east’ from where we are.”

“I don’t know, Lowell. It wasn’t my business. Said this is where they was headed, and I offered to bring ’em on out to save you a drive into town. It ain’t too far out of the way.”

Lowell stepped aside grudgingly. “You’ve never been one to trurn down Pilar’s lemonade and sopapillas. Reckon that’s why you offered so kindly.”

Arnold smiled. “No, sir. And I ain’t gonna make today any different.”

“Let’s go see what this is all about,” Lowell muttered. “Then I’ll decide if those women stay.”

Arnie chuckled. “Or, Miss Ellen will.”

                                                                                       ****

It was impossible to remain proper and aloof, the women soon discovered, in Ellen Taylor’s home. What her husband lacked in manners, she made up for in spades, with her welcoming demeanor, the genuine friendliness of her smiles, and her God-given ability to draw them out of their awkward reserve.

“When was the last time you ladies had a proper meal?” she asked, assuming that, no matter what, their funds would be running low by the end of their journey.

Quick looks at one another darted around the room, and she turned a blind eye, as if she didn’t notice.

“Pilar, perhaps you and Luisa could make some sandwiches for everyone,” Ellen instructed. “I’ll pour the lemonade.” 

“I’ve made tea, as well,” Pilar said with a quick nod as she excused herself and called to Luisa.

“Let’s move to the back porch, everyone,” Ellen said when she’d poured their glasses full of something to drink. “There’s a good breeze out there, usually.”

They’d all seated themselves except Lowell, who remained standing in the center of the porch looking around at all of the travelers, the driver, and the shotgun rider.

“Now I want some answers. Not to be rude—” he held out a hand as Ellen started to intervene, “—but I need to know what this is all about.”

Silence fell, and the others looked to the woman with blonde hair that was once curled, but now hung in tired, relaxed ringlets at the back, beneath her hat that looked as frayed and threadbare as her spirits. Her blue eyes still sparked with determination, and it was plain to see she was the one the others had come to depend on.

“Miss…” Ellen questioned, meeting the woman’s eyes.

“Thomas. Jessamyn Thomas. But I go by Jessie to my friends.”

Ellen smiled. “Jessamyn. What a lovely name. May I call you Jessie, then? Can you shed some light on this situation?”

Jessie nodded, and glanced at the others to be certain they approved of her speaking for all of them. “For various reasons, we had all ended up in Charleston, South Carolina, during the war, or at the war’s end. Also, we had all applied to the Potter Marriage Pairings Agency—”

“Mail-order brides,” Lowell muttered, raking Jessamyn with a disdainful gaze.

Seeing the fight come into her features, Ellen sent her husband a quelling look. She reached across one of the other women to touch Jessamyn’s hand. “Please, continue, my dear.”

Jessamyn turned away from Lowell’s steady glare to look at Ellen, effectively dismissing him. Ellen held back a smile.

“Yes. But we each have a reason for becoming a mail-order bride. And those reasons are for each of us to tell—our own stories—when the time is right.”

“But how did you come to be here? In Texas?” Ellen prodded.

Jessamyn lifted her chin. “We were…won. On a gamble. It-it was a card game, and Mr. Potter had nothing else to wager but part of his business holdings. Normally, he charges a fee to the—the prospective groom. And the groom would also pay travel expenses for—for the bride. So, Mr. Potter bet six brides.”

Lowell let out an indignant huff of disbelief. “And who would you have us believe would be stupid enough to wager a pot of money against six women who are desperate enough to—”

Jessamyn stood quickly as her anger got the best of her. “Mr. Taylor, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Whatever man becomes the husband of any of us will be the winner of that game, I can promise you.” Her voice shook with fury. “We are all here of our own accord. We are here honestly. We were told that we had husbands waiting for us.” Her blue eyes narrowed, but by now, Lowell Taylor stood, slack-jawed at the young woman’s dressing down.

“As for the man who—as you say—was stupid enough to gamble on us? That would be a dear friend of your family—a Mr. Calum James Ross.”

Lowell’s eyes widened at this, but Jessamyn wasn’t finished.

“So you see, when we meet with Mr. Ross, he will be able to explain everything to your exacting satisfaction, I believe, Mr. Taylor.”

The room fell deathly quiet, and a muttered “Sandwiches are ready,” sounded from the doorway.

****

I don’t know if I could be a mail-order bride–could you? 

It’s Yee-Haw Day!

Welcome to Yee-Haw Day, the once-a-month day we’ve reserved to share our news with you – all sorts of fun news!

So check out the post below to get the details on the kinds of things that make us go Yee-Haw!!

Margaret Brownley

I’m excited to say that my new book will be released May 26th, but can be pre-ordered now.

Amazon

B&N

 

Mary Connealy

On Sale Now!

Tried and True

Book #1 of the Wild Women series

is

ON SALE NOW

99 cents in all ebook formats

Kindle-Click to buy

Nook-Click to buy

 

http://www.maryconnealy.com

Linda Broday

 

TWICE A TEXAS BRIDE

#2 Bachelors of Battle Creek

ON SALE $2.99!

Left with emotional scars from his time in an orphanage, Rand Sinclair has vowed never to marry. But when he discovers Callie Quinn and a small orphan boy hiding on his ranch, he can’t help but open his home to the desperate runaways.

AMAZON  

Karen Witemeyer

I just learned that More Than Words Can Say is a finalist for the Holt Medallion Award!
Yee Haw! Winners will be announced in June.

 

Karen Witemeyer

Serving Up Love, a novella collection of Harvey House Brides

On sale for only $1.99 through the month of May.

 

Might make a fun Mother’s Day Gift.

 

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook

 

Cheryl Pierson

How many of you are ready for summer? WE ARE! Here in Oklahoma, we’ve had a loooonnngg winter and it was wet. We broke some records for rainfall! The dogs were not happy, and neither was I, since they were so bored and sad about not being about to go outside! But all is well for the time being, with the last two days being in the high 80’s–just like Oklahoma should be at this time of year!

Here’s Sammy enjoying some poolside time alone! It’s not often he gets a few minutes to himself without Maxie!

Max wants to play, but Sammy has moved to the sunlight to soak up the rays.

The aggravating little brother will not be denied! He’s ready to play!

Ah! All’s well that ends well. Time to go find some water and rest a bit.

 

Hope this brightened your day a little! Though we’re stuck at home, we are sure enjoying the warm temperatures and good weather, and being able to get outside. How are you managing during this time of being isolated and staying home?

Howdy!

During this time, I decided to put almost all of my books on sale.  Those on KindleUnlimited are priced at $.99 cents.  Lakota Surrender e-book is priced at $3.99 and my newest release, THE EAGLE AND THE FLAME is on sale in paperback for $9.99.  Here are the links:

Gray Hawk’s Ladyhttps://tinyurl.com/qtl7hsu

White Eagle’s Touch — https://tinyurl.com/vbanq3m

Night Thunder’s Bride — https://tinyurl.com/twdjtx4

Wolf Shadow’s Promisehttps://tinyurl.com/v54t6jw

Lone Arrow’s Pridehttps://tinyurl.com/t2ubbzp

War Cloud’s Passion — https://tinyurl.com/wu824lt

Soaring Eagle’s Embrace — https://tinyurl.com/rfal22h

The Angel and the Warrior — https://tinyurl.com/um834p2

The Spirit of the Wolf — https://tinyurl.com/svyqbxt

Red Hawk’s Woman — https://tinyurl.com/wzyfjqf

The Last Warrior — https://tinyurl.com/uxglq4t

Black Eaglehttps://tinyurl.com/vyygnvn

Seneca Surrenderhttps://tinyurl.com/wjj49nk

Lakota Surrenderhttps://tinyurl.com/wpgbyw9

The Eagle and the Flamehttps://tinyurl.com/w49evpb

 

Hope y’all are doing well!  May God Bless!

REMEMBRANCE: STORIES OF THE PAST by Cheryl Pierson

 

Many years ago, my aunt entered an essay contest at Austin College in Texas. Aunt Jo Anne was my dad’s younger sister. Her essay was about hog-killing time on their small farm in southeastern Oklahoma, but in her rich way of telling a story, she said so much more.

 

Aunt Jo Anne was my dad’s only sister, and she was a strong “influencer” in our family. She had a very dynamic personality, and was full of surprises. Born in 1929, she was seven years younger than my dad and they loved each other dearly. Though she accomplished many things, her family was the most important—the dearest thing—in her life.

 

 

This is her recollection of the yearly ritual of hog-killing. She remembers this particular time when she was nine years old. When she wrote this essay, she was in her late seventies or early eighties, and she passed away 2 years ago at the age of 88. Here she is below, writing a letter to her husband, my Uncle Earl, during the Korean War when he was overseas.

This essay is a treasure to me because it lets me have a glimpse of her as a child, of my grandparents as younger people, and of other family members like my Aunt Grace, who was my grandmother’s sister. Remembering Aunt Jo Anne and the wonderful stories she told about our family (she knew and remembered so many things—I tried to write some of them down!) as I read this essay makes me wish she had written more things like this.

My dad, Fred, with little sis, Jo Anne in front. Behind them are two of their first cousins. This was taken around 1933-1934 or so. Dad would have been about 11 or 12, and Jo Anne would have been 4 or 5.

 

I hope you enjoy this glimpse back in time.

 

REMEMBRANCE
By: Jo Anne Jackson

This was, for sure, hog killing weather—the deep, frigid
cold of late November, 1941. The blue “norther” had
subsided to a deep and bitter cold. Yes, fine weather for the
yearly ritual at our small row-crop farm.

Everything was ready. Only yesterday, Dad filled the
old black wash pot with well-bucket after well-bucket of
water and then staked wood from the ample woodpile to
surround what would become a scalding cauldron. My
mother had stitched long, white tubing that would encase the
pork sausage. Every crock, dish pan, and kettle was
thoroughly scrubbed.

By lamplight, Dad had carefully sharpened every utility
knife, giving close attention to the butcher knives. I watched
closely the rhythm-like back and forth motion of metal on
whet stone.

Aunt Jo Anne (RIGHT) and a cousin–both were 5 years old in this picture, and a few days after this was taken, her little cousin died of a ruptured appendix.

One of the largest shoats had been penned and fed rich
rations of grain and ‘shorts’, a thick, smelly mixture we
called slop. Discards from the kitchen were thrown in, also.

Next morning, Dad was up before sunrise, starting fires
in the wood heater and kitchen stove. He then went to coax
the kindling and larger sticks to a kind of red-hot furnace
around the wash pot.

At light of day, Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill drove up,
sitting high on the spring board seat of their farm wagon.
The horses were led into the barn lot, where they would
spend a day’s rest with plenty of grain and hay spread on the
wagon bed. No occasion—certainly not hog killing—could be
undertaken without the counsel and experience of this wise
old couple. They had seen much of life’s sweetness and
sadness.

My dad, Fred, and my Aunt Jo Anne clowning around by “striking a pose” many years later.

Mom poured the last of the morning coffee; steaming
cups were held close, everyone appreciating the soothing
warmth—and I was not to be left out; my small cup was
filled with cream and milk, a teaspoon of sugar and 2 or 3
teaspoons full of the hot beverage. Oh, the rich goodness of
that caramel concoction!

Talk turned to news of weather, family and community.
I was puzzled when, briefly, there was mention of England,
Germany and France—I surely didn’t comprehend the names
Hitler and Mussolini.

Then the long day’s work began. When Dad reached
for the .22 rifle, I ran back to my bed, lying face down with
eyes squeezed tight, holding my hands over my ears. But
even so, the crack of the rifle and high shrill squeal of that
animal I can recall vividly these decades later.

I watched from the kitchen window as the work
progressed. Boiling water was poured into a metal barrel
and then tilted downward ever so slightly. This became a
seething cauldron; ugly, but necessary, I knew. A make-shift
pulley and hoist would lift the dead animal into that scalding
baptism.

Dad and my uncle worked in close harmony, scraping
clean the hot clinging bristles, exposing the pink-white
coloring of snout, belly and back. Then followed the more
tedious work of quartering, slicing and discarding.
All day they labored, and that labor would provide meat
for our table. Long winter months lay ahead, but our
provisions were more than ample: spare ribs, loin,
backbone, jowls, bacon, sausage, and ham. Come
Christmas, a ham would be served, for our house would
overflow with cousins, second cousins, uncles and aunts,
toddlers and babes in arms (sweet, sweet fellowship, hours
of play and whispered secrets).

The sun was low when my mother called supper. The
coal-oil lamp in the center of the kitchen table provided a
mellow light.


Both men washed up, using wet hands to pat down
their hair, rumpled and tangled from a day that allowed no
time for combing.

Our places were set, four high backed chairs and the
kitchen stool for me, a child of nine years… Oh, that feast:
fried tenderloin, red eye gravy, small red potatoes boiled
with the jackets on… Everyone became seated and quiet as
our heads bowed to repeat The Lord’s Prayer.

 

Mom then brought the first pan of her wonderful buttermilk biscuits to
the table, hot from the oven, Everyone ate heartily, the men
enjoying a “roll your own” cigarette of Prince Albert tobacco
as they relaxed in the warmth of that small, cramped kitchen.
But hog killing was not over just because the hog was
killed. Much remained to be done.


Meat for sausage was ground, seasoned with just the
right amount of salt, pepper, and sage. One must be extra
careful with the sage, for even a little too much would ruin the
whole crock. (Words spoken by that lovable Aunt Grace, an
authority on sausage making. And indeed, she was.) The
white tubing was packed tightly with the sausage, then hung
by long baling wire from rafters in the smokehouse.
Then came the day for rendering fat to make our lard;
and the delicious crunch of the “cracklings” was the by-product.
A cup of crushed cracklings made a skillet of hot
cornbread really, really good.

Pork cracklings–a favorite dish “then and now”–you can buy them in bags to snack on these days!

The old black wash pot was put into service that one
last time for soap making. Mother’s lye soap was a product
she was most proud of. She knew by memory the exact
amount of grease, lye, and whatever else went into this
product. She wielded a long-handled wooden paddle to stir,
being careful to stay clear of the hot coals. When this
mixture reached a consistency that was absolutely, 100
percent right, and ashes covered the coals, she kept stirring,
only more slowly. lt took two or three days for the soap to
set up. LYE SOAP! In those long-ago years it was used to
wash dishes, to scrub our bare wood floors, and to bathe our
bodies when times were especially lean. When our city kin
visited in the summer, my aunt always asked, “Mary, do you
have an extra bar of your soap? The girls so love it for
shampoo.”

The week’s hum of activity gradually wound down.
Uncle Bill added a bit more preservative to the hams, sides
of bacon were wrapped and hung, buckets of pure white lard
were put in the storm cellar—placed on shelves next to
Mom’s prized lye soap.

These were my people: resourceful, honest,
hardworking, humble, and always true to their convictions of
right and wrong.

Only days later, December 7, 1941, our close-knit,
secure world was rocked asunder. WWII was upon us and
our way of life forever changed.

Now, in quiet times, I see them still, seated in lamp light
at our kitchen table, heads bowed in prayers of praise and
thanksgiving. The Lord had provided for another year.

Do you have a memory like this of a special time in your childhood that stands out in your mind? Please share!

It’s Yee-Haw Day!

Welcome to Yee-Haw Day, the once-a-month day we’ve reserved to share our news with you – all sorts of fun news!

So check out the post below to get the details on the kinds of things that make us go Yee-Haw!!

Pam Crooks

 

 

Buy or Read on AMAZON

Margaret Brownley

The Mail-Order Standoff  is on this week’s EPCA’s Fiction Bestsellers list.

Marriage plans are put on hold in the Old West when four mail-order brides have second thoughts.

Amazon

B&N

Karen Witemeyer

I have a new e-single out – More Than a Pretty Face. This Harvey House romance pits a woman hiding from her past against a gentleman who believes she is his future. Secrets, coded messages, and Fred Harvey’s famous apple pie make for a delicious turn-of-the-century Texas romance filled with drama and laughter.

Only $2.39 at Amazon and Christianbook. $2.99 at other retailers.

Amazon
Barnes & Noble

Christianbook

If you prefer print, this story was previously published in the print collection, Serving Up Love.

Linda Broday & Phyliss Miranda

We belong to the oldest continually writing organization in the United States and it happens to be right here in the Texas Panhandle. WE’RE TURNING 100 ON APRIL 20TH! In celebration, Texas High Plains Writers has published a new anthology. With Words We Weave … A Celebration of the Past is available now at Amazon.

The original group, Panhandle Pen Women, was organized by forward-thinking Laura V. Hamner and quickly boasted 48 members by 1925. We’ve had several names along the way but this anthology of short stories, memoirs, essays, poetry, and non-fiction pieces portrays the history of how we slowly evolved into Texas High Plains Writers. This is our second book that showcases the immense talent in this area. The first released last year and here’s the link: https://amzn.to/2Rf23l8.

AMAZON


CHERYL PIERSON

UNDER A WESTERN SKY–An oldie but a goodie, and who can’t use a SIX-BOOK boxed set right now for only .99? So come on over to Amazon and snap this one up, with wonderful books by some excellent western historical romance writers! You can’t go wrong! Y’all hunker down and read! 

 

GET IT HERE!

https://amzn.to/34di6Fr

 

BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH! — VILLAINS AND TREACHERY! by Cheryl Pierson

Oh, how I love a good villain! Whether I’m reading about one or watching him/her on film, or best of all—WRITING ONE!

What makes a good villain? Well, in my opinion, first and foremost he can’t be one-dimensional. I know in our “real world” there are those people that seem to be evil just for the sake of it and some of them probably are. But in our reading/writing, we want to know WHY. What made this person turn out like he did—a diabolical, cunning, demonic person that will stop at nothing to accomplish what he’s set out to do?

 

This leads to the question, is there anything at all that would stop him from carrying out his evil plans? Would a memory stop him, or trigger him? Would any one person be able to reason with him? Would a “new plan” divert him from carrying out the blueprint for disaster for the hero/heroine that he’s already come up with?

 

 

But there are other things that have to be reckoned with. Those things that might have happened to him in his past to create and mold him into the kind of person who would be so bold and determined to use anything—no matter how it hurts others—to his own advantage are important. But what are the factors that drive him presently? A circumstance of opportunity? A long-seated need for revenge and the path to that revenge being presented? Greed? Burning jealousy? Maybe even the death of a loved one that he may not have wanted to embarrass by his actions while they were still living—now that they’re gone, all bets are off! THE DEVIL AND MISS JULIA JACKSON has the heroine caught between a distant relative who throws her and her niece out of their home and the job as nursemaid she takes in Indian Territory, working for a man who is, at first, cold and unresponsive. The villain in this story shifts between the man who threw Julia out of her home to someone else who means to destroy her employer.

 

 

 

 

I’ve had so many villains I’ve created in my writing that were motivated by different things. My first one, Andrew Fallon, appeared in FIRE EYES. He was just pure evil. He didn’t care about anything or anyone—even his family, as his brother found out when he came looking for him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my first contemporary romantic suspense, SWEET DANGER, Tabor Hardin has his revenge handed to him on a silver platter, being in the right place at the right time to turn the tables on the undercover cop who put him in jail—before his escape. He’s a man with nothing to lose at this point, and Jesse Nightwalker, the cop, has a new life hovering on the horizon—if he can survive.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The villain is paranormal in TIME PLAINS DRIFTER—a demon who can shape-shift. How in the world will the innocents he’s after survive? They have a reluctant angel or two on their side, but the demon is powerful. Can they overcome his strength?

 

 

Greed comes into play in BEYOND THE FIRE, when undercover DEA agent Jackson Taylor’s cover is blown and a drug lord comes after him, trying to use Jack’s undercover partner against him. But there is a secret that even Jack hasn’t known about his partner—and the woman he’s falling in love with. Is it enough to defeat the powerful drug cartel and keep Jackson, Kendi, and his partner safe?

Treachery comes in all forms and it’s most often quite a surprise. No matter how vigilant our heroes are, they come up against some very foreboding, sharp cunning from the villains—after all, they have to have a worthy opponent, right?

 

 

Speaking of worthy opponents, I’ll talk a little about my contemporary romantic suspense CAPTURE THE NIGHT—where the villain, Kieran McShane, runs his own rogue faction of the Irish Republican Army and plans to murder Great Britain’s Prime Minister while he’s on vacation in Dallas. Johnny Logan is an undercover Dallas cop, staying in the hotel as added protection for the prime minister; Alexa Bailey is treating herself to a one-year divorce anniversary vacation. When McShane takes over the entire hotel, it’s only a matter of time before he discovers them up on the roof in the maintenance housing—and collateral damage means nothing to him. With the hostages brought to the roof, McShane threatens to begin throwing them over one by one—unless his demands are met. Can Johnny and Alexa survive the whims of a madman, bent on political revenge?

 

One of my favorite recent stories is SABRINA, one of four novels that appears in the boxed set MAIL ORDER BRIDES FOR SALE: THE REMINGTON  SISTERS. Four sisters are at the mercy of their stepfather who plans to sell them to the highest bidder now that their mother is dead. But these girls have other plans. Can they manage to get away? Will they be able to keep themselves safe from Josiah Bloodworth no matter how far away they go? This is a very fun set of four full length novels, each sister’s story penned by a different author. Livia Washburn Reasoner—Lizzy; Jacquie Rogers—Belle; Celia Yeary—Lola; and Cheryl Pierson—Sabrina.  

Here’s an excerpt of Sabrina facing down the villain, her stepfather, in the dressmaker’s shop. Cam is listening to it all from the back, waiting for his chance to save her, his sister, and the proprietor of the shop. Here’s what happens:

“So you see, dear Sabrina, you have no true choice about what you do—and neither do your sisters.” Bloodworth spread his hands as he spoke. “You will, indeed, come home to Pennsylvania from this godforsaken place and do exactly as you are told. You will marry a man—a proper gentleman—of my choosing.” He took a step closer to her.

She faced him unflinchingly, her head held high. “I will no more return to Philadelphia with you than fly to the moon. You would do well to carry your pompous, maggot-ridden self away from here and get as far east as you can go posthaste—before my husband returns for us—and sends you straight to hell.” She spoke as regally as a queen to the lowliest dregs of society, without a trace of fear.

A thin smile touched Bloodworth’s lips, but the calm iciness in his pale eyes was what put Cam on alert. This man was determined, and he believed no one could stop him.

His muscle-bound cohort stood near the door, keeping watch so that Bloodworth didn’t need to worry about any distractions—from the two other women, or from any of the townspeople.

“My dear Sabrina, you are most definitely going to do exactly as I tell you. Or else.”

Else what? You’ll drag me back by my hair like the brute that you truly are?”

Bloodworth chuckled. “Well, well. Our little Sabrina has come into her own, hasn’t she?” He stroked his chin. “Actually, I don’t believe I shall have to drag you back. I think you most likely will do anything I say once I lay my hands on that half-breed husband of yours…even if I tell you to climb up on this counter and spread your legs like the whore you are…just like your mother was—”

The slap Sabrina gave Bloodworth echoed through the room, and brought a spot of blood to the corner of his mouth. Unruffled, he took out his handkerchief and dabbed at it.

“I’m going to kill your husband, Sabrina Rose. It will be a long…slow…and very, very painful death. And you will have only yourself to blame.”

 

So many wonderful reasons for becoming a villain! The motivations are just endless, aren’t they? It’s a fine line to walk, making them evil, yet sympathetic in some instances, and letting our readers see a glimpse of their humanity—if they have any left.

Do you have a favorite villain you’ve written or read? What about your favorite film villain?

PRAIRIE ROSE PUBLICATIONS WEBSITE:  http://prairierosepublications.com/

Cheryl’s Amazon Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/cheryl.pierson.92

FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/cheryl.pierson.92  

It’s Yee-Haw Day!

Welcome to Yee-Haw Day, the once-a-month day we’ve reserved to share our news with you – all sorts of fun news!

So check out the post below to get the details on the kinds of things that make us go Yee-Haw!!

Pam Crooks

 

 

So this happened for my contemporary western romance with Tule Publishing.  Yee-Haw!

We ran a sale with Bookbub, and to hit #1 in a category (or even two categories), an author has to sell a lot of books in a short period of time to push her title to the number one slot. Amazon is just so massive, with so many categories, one never knows if it will happen.  The competition is incredible.  Even though the spike to number one usually doesn’t last for an extended period of time, that orange ribbon tends to stick around a bit, and ALOT of people will see it.  Even better, new readers are introduced to my work, resulting in a spike in my other titles, too.

 

Though no longer on sale, A COWBOY & A PROMISE is available on your favorite platform.

Tule Book Store

CHERYL PIERSON

Last March, we adopted a “little brother”, Max, for our “Sweet Seminole Sammy” who’d been with us in August of 2018. I just felt Sammy was lonely and needed another dog (and Lord knows, I can never have too many dogs!) Hubby finally gave in, grudgingly, and in March, 2019, seven months after we’d adopted Sammy, my daughter Jessica and I made the hour-long drive to my hometown of Seminole, OK, to pick up Max–a puppy who, along with 5 siblings, had been dumped at the shelter entrance when they were only about a week to 10 days old back in the early part of January 2019.

Hubby worried about all kinds of things–would they get along? What would we do if they didn’t? But in my heart, I knew that Sammy was such a “love dog” he needed to be with one of his kind. Thankfully, I was right! Here’s the picture of their first meeting. At this point, Sammy had been with us about seven months, and was just a little over a year old by all guesses. He took Max right under his wing and has loved and protected him from their first meeting.

Look how little Max was! He was (by the shelter’s guess) close to 10 weeks old when we got him on March 11–approximately one year younger than Sammy. 

 

 

Here they are a few nights ago–how they’ve both grown over this past year! (Sorry about the lighting!)

 

 

Winter fun about 2 weeks ago–Max with snow on his nose (first time for both of them to go play in the snow) and Sammy with a snow mustache! 

These guys would be lost without each other now, and they’ve taken a permanent hold on our lives and hearts! Max’s “Gotcha Day” (the day we brought him home) is March 11–coming up–and we’re planning on a favorite treat that day–a vanilla ice cream cone for each of them to celebrate the happy occasion! (I’m going to have one, too, y’all. Shhh…) 


Winnie Griggs

Fun news – Harlequin is reissuing one of my older Love Inspired Historical titles, Second Chance Family in a brand new 2-in-1 volume!  And better yet, they’re pairing me up with a book by former filly Cheryl St.John!  The book is releasing this month on line and in many retail stores where Love Inspired books can be found.

 

SECOND CHANCE FAMILY

Mitch Hammond is a man of his word. And as far as Cora Beth Collins is concerned, that’s a problem. The stubborn sheriff has vowed never to love again, for fear of wounding someone else. The most he can offer Cora Beth is marriage in name only. And with no other way to adopt two runaway orphans and keep her patchwork family together, she accepts.

Mitch is doing the honorable thing. So why does it feel so wrong? Despite his intentions, Mitch is starting to want more from Cora Beth…and from himself. For in her trusting eyes he sees everything he hopes to be—as a lawman, a father and a husband.

Find On Amazon

Mary Connealy

A new release TOMORROW, March 3.

Woman of Sunlight, book #2 of the Brides of Hope Mountain series will ship from online stores and be in bookstores at last!

After years of isolation on top of Hope Mountain, Ilsa Nordegren may finally be ready to leave. Raised to fear the world, Ilsa and her sisters never planned on coming down, but when the Warden family arrived in need, they had to help. And it may cost them everything.

Having made his fortune, Mitch Warden returned home and found the family homestead abandoned. In a land grab, a ruthless cattle baron had forced his family to escape up the mountain, and when he follows, the last thing he expects is to fall smitten to a black-haired woman who dresses like Robin Hood.

Warden is intent on helping his family reclaim their land, but doesn’t realize the risks his past has brought. Dangerous men have tracked him, and rather than risk innocent lives, he’s determined to end the danger. But that means a journey to the city–and when Ilsa insists on joining him, the mismatched pair suddenly find themselves on a venture they’ll never forget.

Karen Witemeyer

I just found out that I was named the #4 fan favorite romance author for 2020 by Family Fiction Magazine. Yee Haw! To see the full list of the top 40 Christian romance authors, click here. Another western romance author, Lacy Williams, took the top slot this year, and fellow filly Mary Connealy made the list at #19. Hooray for western romance!

Karen Kay

I have a new release!

 

 

A vision foretold his tribe’s doom.  Is the flame-haired beauty the trickster or his true love?

BUY ON AMAZON

Julie Benson

I just spent the weekend visiting my youngest son in Glassboro, New Jersey. The time has flown. It seems like just yesterday my husband and I dropped him off at Rowan University for his freshman year as a musical theatre major. Now he’s a senior and we watched him in his last performance. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s my youngest as the King of the Underworld. Once again his ability to bring a quirky, incredible character to life amazed me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a picture of him in a shorter version of the cap with shorts riding a tricycle because it was in the middle of the show…

 

Phyliss Miranda

Everything’s bigger in Texas … including love.
It starts with a kiss … and it’s .99!
If you haven’t read my latest Kasota Springs Out of a Texas Night  I’m pleased to tell you the eBook is on sale for only $.99 across various retailers for the full month of March 2020!
 
 
AMAZON  |  B&N  |  KOBO  |
 
Ruth Logan Herne
 
Well, it’s not a Western, but Ruthy is thrilled to announce the release of Book 3 of her “Wishing Bridge” series “Finding Peace in Wishing Bridge”. This latest addition to this bestselling series releases officially today… and what a wonderful thing to celebrate! 
 
AMAZON
 

YEE HAW!!!!!!!!

 

 

WHAT ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT WORDS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE? by Cheryl Pierson

If you are a reader, or a writer, or both, at some time, you probably have wondered about what words are the most important ones in our language.

In an article by Richard Nordquist for ThoughtCo., a list of the 100 most important words was drawn up by British rhetorician I.A. Richards, author of several books including “Basic English and Its Uses” (1943).

These words are not the most frequently used words in the English language. This list of words has been chosen more for their meanings, and the importance they have to our language.

According to Nordquist, Richards introduced his list of words in the book “How to Read a Page: A Course in Effective Reading” (1942), and he called them “the most important words” for two reasons:

  1. They cover the ideas we can least avoid using, those which are concerned in all that we do as thinking beings.
  2. They are words we are forced to use in explaining other words because it is in terms of the ideas they cover that the meanings of other words must be given.

With these parameters in mind, it’s interesting to think about the words that were chosen to be representative of the 100  most important words in our entire language, isn’t it? And reading over the list, I find myself nodding my head in agreement and saying, “MMM-HMMM…”

 

Here are those 100 important words:

  1. Amount                 
  2. Argument   
  3. Art
  4. Be
  5. Beautiful
  6. Belief
  7. Cause
  8. Certain
  9. Chance
  10. Change
  11. Clear
  12. Common
  13. Comparison
  14. Condition
  15. Connection
  16. Copy
  17. Decision
  18. Degree
  19. Desire
  20. Development
  21. Different
  22. Do
  23. Education
  24. End
  25. Event
  26. Examples
  27. Existence
  28. Experience
  29. Fact
  30. Fear
  31. Feeling
  32. Fiction
  33. Force
  34. Form
  35. Free
  36. General
  37. Get
  38. Give
  39. Good
  40. Government
  41. Happy
  42. Have
  43. History
  44. Idea
  45. Important
  46. Interest
  47. Knowledge
  48. Law
  49. Let
  50. Level
  51. Living
  52. Love
  53. Make
  54. Material
  55. Measure
  56. Mind
  57. Motion
  58. Name
  59. Nation
  60. Natural
  61. Necessary
  62. Normal
  63. Number
  64. Observation
  65. Opposite
  66. Order
  67. Organization
  68. Part
  69. Place
  70. Pleasure
  71. Possible
  72. Power
  73. Probable
  74. Property
  75. Purpose
  76. Quality
  77. Question
  78. Reason
  79. Relation
  80. Representative
  81. Respect
  82. Responsible
  83. Right
  84. Same
  85. Say
  86. Science
  87. See
  88. Seem
  89. Sense
  90. Sign
  91. Simple
  92. Society
  93. Sort
  94. Special
  95. Substance
  96. Thing
  97. Thought
  98. True
  99. Use
  100. Way
  101. Wise
  102. Word
  103. Work

All these words carry multiple meanings, and they can say quite different things to different readers. For that reason, Richards’ list could just as well have been labeled “The 100 Most Ambiguous Words.

Richards says, “The very usefulness which gives them their importance explains their ambiguity. They are the servants of too many interests to keep to single, clearly defined jobs. Technical words in the sciences are like adzes, planes, gimlets, or razors. A word like “experience,” or “feeling,” or “true” is like a pocketknife. In good hands it will do most things—not very well. In general we will find that the more important a word is, and the more central and necessary its meanings are in our pictures of ourselves and the world, the more ambiguous and possibly deceiving the word will be.”

In earlier writings, Richards had explored the fundamental notion that meaning doesn’t reside in words themselves. Instead, meaning is rhetorical, or fashioned out of both a verbal context (the words surrounding the words) and the experiences of the individual reader. No surprise, then, that miscommunication is often the result when the “important words” come into play.

It’s this idea of mis-communicating through language that led Richards to conclude that all of us are developing our reading skills all the time: “Whenever we use words in forming some judgment or decision, we are, in what may be a painfully sharp sense, ‘learning to read’.” (“How to Read a Page.”)

There are actually 103 words on Richards’ top-100 list. The bonus words, he said, are meant “to incite the reader to the task of cutting out those he sees no point in and adding any he pleases, and to discourage the notion that there is anything sacrosanct about a hundred, or any other number.”

With these thoughts in mind, can you create your own list of the top 100 words in the English language? Would they be important for the same reasons cited above?

I see several on here that I agree with…now I’ve got to put my mind to thinking about some of the others I might rather have in place of some of his suggestions! What about you?

  1. Nordquist, Richard. “The 100 Most Important Words in English.” ThoughtCo, Feb. 11, 2020, thoughtco.com/important-words-in-english-1692687.

It’s Yee-Haw Day!

Welcome to Yee-Haw Day, the once-a-month day we’ve reserved to share our news with you – all sorts of fun news!

So check out the post below to get the details on the kinds of things that make us go Yee-Haw!!

Margaret Brownley

I have a new book out, just in time for Valentine’s.  The anthology is titled Mail Order Standoff.  If you like mail-order bride stories, then this one is for you. The stories all have a fun twist when the brides get cold feet. 

My story is titled Pistol Packin’ Bride: Attorney Wade Bronson didn’t expect to get shot on his wedding day–and certainly not by his mail order bride…

Amazon

B&N

More News!

A LADY LIKE SARAH

She’s an outlaw; he’s a preacher. Both are in need of a miracle.

The audiobook just came out and already it’s #6 on Amazon’s Western audiobook chart. 

AMAZON

Jeannie Watt

I have a new book out, too! It’s a sweet romance set in Montana with a single widower dad and his two adorable little girls. I had a blast writing Montana Dad.

 

A new start in Montana

…or new love?

Alex Ryan fled her career, her home and her family to start over in Montana. Somewhere her past can’t find her. Now her biggest danger is Nick Callahan, the gorgeous single dad—and cowboy—next door. Alex can’t let anyone get close to her or her heart. But this particular rancher might just give Alex the strength to stop running from her past…and see a future with him.

AMAZON

Linda Broday

I’m on a book tour with Lone Star Literary for The Mail Order Bride’s Secret

And I Have Rafflecopter Giveaways! Click on the graphic and enter!

 

 

CHERYL PIERSON

VALENTINE READS–OLDIES BUT GOODIES!

Who loves a great Valentine’s Day story? I DO! I love to read them and write them! If there is a more romantic time of year, I don’t know what it is—and it’s especially so for me, since my hubby and I got married on February 10, 1979, almost forty-one years ago! (I’m trying to come up with some different romantic ideas for us for our anniversary, and it’s tough after this long!) LOL

With flowers and candy at the top of the “romantic” list, I always indulge in a guilty pleasure or two and buy myself some VERY romantic stories to lose myself in at this time of year! I don’t have a new Valentine story out this year, but I’m working on one that’ll be ready for next Valentine’s Day, for sure. 

 

Here are a few “picks” for you if you’re looking for some romantic Valentine’s Day reading…

 

 

HEARTS AND SPURS is a short story collection that features nine sensual Valentine’s Day love tales of the old west that will leave no doubt—Cupid is a cowboy, and he’s playing for keeps! How do you capture a cowboy’s heart? HEARTS AND SPURS  includes stories by many of our P&P past and present “fillies”!

OPEN HEARTS by Tanya Hanson, THE WIDOW’S HEART by Linda Broday, COMING HOME by Tracy Garrett, TUMBLEWEEDS AND VALENTINES by Phyliss Miranda, FOUND HEARTS by Cheryl Pierson, THE SECOND-BEST RANGER IN TEXAS by Kathleen Rice Adams (WESTERN FICTIONEER PEACEMAKER AWARD WINNER!) GUARDING HER HEART by Livia J. Washburn, HOLLOW HEART by Sarah J. McNeal, A FLARE OF THE HEART by Jacquie Rogers

What a wonderful anthology this is!

GET IT HERE: https://amzn.to/2u9ORpl

 

 

 

A HEART FOR A HEART by Cheryl Pierson is a contemporary Valentine’s Day novella you might enjoy… 

Kiera Leslie is all set to welcome Cory Tiger into her home as a foster child. Orphaned and with a learning disability, Cory is looking forward to living with his tutor. Until his uncle shows up…

Sam Tiger returns from military duty to find his deceased brother’s son being taken in by a stranger. The boy needs his family—and Sam is it. He never expects the tutor to stand up to him and want to keep Cory. Then the worst happens—he finds himself attracted to Kiera.

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Cupid’s got deadly aim!

GET IT HERE: https://amzn.to/2vGgTJF

 

HIDDEN TRAILS by Cheryl Pierson takes place right around Valentine’s Day in a blinding snowstorm. It was also a finalist in the WESTERN FICTIONEERS PEACEMAKER AWARDS a few years back for best western short fiction. 

 Levi Connor has never run from anything in his life, and he doesn’t intend to start now. After killing the two bandits who’d followed him into Indian Territory, he finds himself wounded and riding through a blinding February snowstorm. With no purpose ahead of him and no past to guide him, he discovers a reason to exist—the beautiful mixed-blood girl who takes him in and heals him.

Valentine Reneau lives in fear that her father will find her someday in the heart of Indian Territory and force her to return to Mississippi to take her mother’s place—in every way. She knows her time has run out when a stranger shows up on her land with two hired guns—and the devil in his plans.

With some unlikely help, Valentine must try to escape the slave’s fate that her mother left behind so many years before. Will Levi kill for a woman he barely knows? The chips are down, the guns blaze, and everything finally comes clear along these HIDDEN TRAILS…but who’ll be left alive?

GET IT HERE:  https://amzn.to/31bhuyI

 

What’s the most romantic story you ever read? There are soooooo many!  If anyone has a “novel” idea on something different and fun to do for Valentine’s Day, please share! I’m wracking my brain! Have a wonderful Valentine’s Day!

Pam Crooks

Mark your calendars!

A COWBOY AND A PROMISE will be featured on BookBub for 99 cents

on your favorite platform!

February 14th – 15th ONLY

 

 

SAECULUM–HOW LONG WILL WE BE REMEMBERED? by Cheryl Pierson

I learned a new word the other day, thanks to a dear friend of mine, Sharon Cunningham. She posted on Facebook about the word, “saeculum”—which was one that I’d never heard of. I didn’t even know there was an actual word for this “event” or “circumstance.”

Saeculum means the period of time from when an event occurred until all people who had an actual memory of the event have died. The example she used was World War I. The saeculum for that war is over.

It can also be applied to people. (Something else I never thought about.) A person’s saeculum doesn’t end until all people who have a clear memory of knowing that person are gone. So even though a person has died, their saeculum will live for another two or three generations!

Isn’t this amazing? And comforting, somehow. Yes, eventually our saeculum will be over, but what amazes me, and comforts me at the same time, is knowing there is a word—an actual TERM—for the idea of this memory of an event or person.

When you think about it, knowing that someone has created a word to define this period of time is important, because it defines it and gives it meaning—not just some nebulous “I remember Mama” type idea that is passed down. It means, I DO REMEMBER MAMA. I remember how Mama used to sing, I remember how Mama used to cook, how her palm felt on my forehead in the night when she came to check on me. I remember “that” look when she was upset with me, and I remember how she cried when she learned her dad, my grandfather, had died.

 

Valentine’s Day 1965, Mom, my sister Karen, me, and my oldest sister, Annette
Nov. 1960–my sisters, Karen and Annette cutting up in the living room
Sept. 1966–my mom and dad together
 Dec. 1965–my mom wearing the hula skirt my sister Annette brought me from Hawaii for Christmas
April 1960–my grandmother (mom’s mother), a not-quite-3-year-old me, and my sister Annette
January 1960–Mom’s 38th birthday

I remember Mama the way I knew her. And when we talk to other members of the family who knew and remembered her, we learn many other facets about her personality and things about her as a person we would never have known otherwise. It’s this way with every person we know!   

But let’s take it one step further: I remember family. My own, of course—two sisters, Mama and Daddy. But what about extended family? Sometimes we tend to just “move on” in our lives and not dwell on memories of long ago because somehow, they don’t seem important to us. But now that there is a word that defines us in relationship to those memories, doesn’t it seem a little more important that we remember those long-ago times? Soon, there will be no one to remember, and the saeculum for our entire family will be gone.

A group of my cousins at a family reunion

Oddly enough, I remember what I thought AS A CHILD at family get-togethers—the excitement of seeing my cousins, of taking a trip to visit everyone, of staying up late and having a bit more freedom since I had grandparents at both ends of the small town where both sides of my family had many members living—and I felt special because of that. I was the ONLY ONE of my cousins who had THAT! So we always had somewhere to walk to when they were with me—to one grandparents’ house or the other.

As an adult, I think back on those simpler times and wonder what else was going on in the “adult world”—sisters, brothers, in-laws all gathering with their children and meal preparation for so many people—my mother was the oldest of eleven children!

My mother, El Wanda Stallings Moss, and my aunt (my dad’s sister) JoAnne Moss Jackson

Two unforgettable women!

Everyone tried to come home to Bryan County during Christmas and/or Thanksgiving. Such an exciting time, but for the adults…tiring and maybe stressful? If so, I don’t remember ever seeing that side of anyone.   

 

My mom and dad as newlyweds in 1944–El Wanda Stallings Moss and Frederic Marion Moss–around 22 years old

So, maybe that’s why I think writing is so important. My mom always said she wanted to write down her life story, but “life” kept getting in the way and it never happened. When she ended up with Alzheimer’s, the time for writing down anything was over. Though the written word doesn’t add to a person’s saeculum, it does at least two things for those left behind: It helps preserve the stories and memories the deceased person has talked about before they passed, and it gives future generations a glimpse into their ancestors’ lives, thoughts, beliefs, and dreams.

This is my great-grandmother, “Mammy” (Emma Christi Anna Ligon Stallings)–my mother’s dad’s mother. I never knew her, but I felt like I did from the stories Mom told me about her. She was born not long after the Civil War ended, and regaled my mother with stories of her growing up years. I wish I had listened better when Mom tried to tell me about her!

We die, and eventually are forgotten by the world. Events happen that were, at the time,  life-changing, world- altering, such as wars, rampant disease, and tragedies of other kinds. These, though horrific at the time, will eventually be relegated to the tomes of the historical past…and forgotten…by many. There is nothing to stop it. All saeculums will be over for individual people and for events. And they will all become history.

What we can leave behind for others is our pictures, the written word of who we are and what we believe, and if we have a particular talent or craft, pieces of that—carvings, quilts, beautiful artwork or writings, creations of so many kinds.

A painting my mom did many years ago of an old barn in a snowstorm. Sorry it’s so small! Couldn’t make it bigger without making it blurry.

Our saeculum is fragile, and fleeting. So for 2020, my one and only resolution is to try to keep some kind of journal for my children, or for anyone who might be interested in the future. I want to write about my childhood, just the regular every-day things we did, the heat of the Oklahoma summer nights, the fireflies that lit up those nights until we knew we had to go home or get in trouble! The way the house creaked, and how the attic fan sounded like a freight train as it brought in that blessed cooler air during those same hot summer nights. So many memories of “nothing special”—just the business of living.  I want to write about the way life was then—because it will never be that way again, for better or worse.

My best friend, Jane Carroll, and me, on a fall day in the sandbox. I was about 8, and Jane was a year older. We moved in just down the street from one another during the same week of 1963! Jane is gone now, but I still love her and miss her.

Will anyone give a hoot? Maybe not. But I will know I’ve done what I could do if anyone DOES care. I’m not sure Laura Ingalls Wilder thought anyone would care about her stories—but look at what a glimpse into the past they have provided for so many generations! I’m no Laura Ingalls Wilder. My journals won’t begin to make the impression on the world that hers did. But you never know who might read them and think, “I wish I had known her!” (Even after my saeculum is over!)

Me, at age three.

Do you have anything you would like to leave to future generations to remember you by? This fascinates me!

 

WESTERN CHRISTMAS ART AT ITS BEST! by Cheryl Pierson

 

Hi everyone! Welcome to day 2 of our Jingle Jangle Spurs Event! I love Christmas. And I love western art. Merge the two and what do you get? Well, in my opinion, Jack Sorenson! Jack Sorenson’s western artwork is just wonderful. He’s one of my favorite artists, and you’ve probably seen his artwork on Christmas cards, calendars, and in galleries, as well. If I had the money, I would fill my house up with his art–here are a few of his Christmas paintings–just a FEW, mind you! This first one reminds me of the opening scene of RAWHIDE–“Head ’em up, move ’em out!” 

THE REINDEER ROUNDUP

 

A favorite subject of his paintings are his “cowboy” Santas.  This one’s called SANTA’S BIG RIDE, and  I just love the “motion” in it. And the beautiful colors!

 

This one is called ST. NICK’S EXPRESS. I feel like I’m riding shotgun, don’t you?

 

Another favorite, even though the background is darker. It feels “peaceful” somehow. This one is called A COWBOY CHRISTMAS. Look at the lighting on the snow. Isn’t that amazing? 

 

Okay, I saved the best for last–this is my favorite. I would love to have this one hanging on my wall in my living room. I just can’t say enough good about this one and when you see it, you’ll know why. This is the kind of cowboy we all love to write about and read about!  Not only did he make it home in time for Christmas–he’s got that special gift hidden behind his back. This one is called THE HOMECOMING.

 

 

Hope you all have enjoyed this peek into just a very FEW of Jack Sorenson’s wonderful paintings. If you would like to see more, jump on over here and take a look!  Merry Christmas to you all! I hope your holidays are merry and bright, and filled with love and many good memories!

https://www.jacksorensonfineart.com/christmas/