HOW LONG WILL WE BE REMEMBERED?– AND A GIVEAWAY!–by CHERYL PIERSON

I learned a new word 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 pair of 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 2025, 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!

Today, I’m giving away a PRINT OR DIGITAL COPY of NOELLE’S CHRISTMAS WISH–book 5 of the Petticoats & Pistols Christmas Stocking Sweethearts series to one lucky commenter! Thanks to each and every one of you for being a part of PETTICOATS & PISTOLS!

 

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NOELLE’S CHRISTMAS WISH

Click here to view the entire series on Amazon

 

Order your copy of LOVE UNDER FIRE today!

 

A MARSHAL FOR CALLIE–KINDLE LINK: https://tinyurl.com/yn85vnkk

A MARSHAL FOR CALLIE–PAPERBACK LINK: https://tinyurl.com/mryt2fwf

 

Thanks for stopping by today! Be sure to leave your contact info along with your comment in case you win!

CHERYL’S AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:  https://tinyurl.com/2k7xeddt

CHERYL’S WINNERS!

Thank you all for stopping by today and sharing your Christmas memories with us all! So often, I feel like we are all family here at Petticoats & Pistols, and I love hearing about your lives and memories as well as sharing my own.

I chose two winners today for digital copies of one of my backlist books, including Noelle’s Christmas Wish! My winners are…..

CAROL M. and CARRIE MCCAULEY

CONGRATULATIONS! Please contact me at fabkat_edit@yahoo.com and let me know the title of the book or novella you’d like, plus the e-mail you’d like it sent to. 

Thanks again for stopping by and sharing Christmas memories today!

SILVER MAGIC–A CHRISTMAS STORY BY CHERYL PIERSON–AND A GIVEAWAY!

 

Several years ago, I had just sold my first short story to Adams Media’s Rocking Chair Reader series. I was on Cloud 9! A few months later, I sold this story, SILVER MAGIC, to them. It would appear in their first Christmas collection, Classic Christmas: True Stories of Holiday Cheer and Goodwill. I want to share it with you here. This story is true, and is one of the most poignant tales I could ever tell about my grandfather–he died when I was eleven. I never saw this side of him, and I don’t think very many people did–that’s what makes this Christmas story so special.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SILVER MAGIC by Cheryl Pierson

Did you know that there is a proper way to hang tinsel on the Christmas tree?

Growing up in the small town of Seminole, Oklahoma, I was made aware of this from my earliest memories of Christmas. Being the youngest in our family, there was never a shortage of people always wanting to show me the right way to do—well, practically everything! When it came to hanging the metallic strands on the Christmas tree, my mother made it a holiday art form.

“The cardboard holder should be barely bent,” she said, “forming a kind of hook for the tinsel.”   No more than three strands of the silver magic should be pulled from this hook at one time. And, we were cautioned, the strands should be draped over the boughs of the tree gently, so as to avoid damage to the fragile greenery.

Once the icicles had been carefully added to the already-lit-and-decorated tree, we would complete our “pine princess” with a can of spray snow. Never would we have considered hanging the icicles in blobs, as my mother called them, or tossing them haphazardly to land where they would on the upper, unreachable branches. Hanging them on the higher branches was my father’s job, since he was the tallest person I knew—as tall as Superman, for sure. He, too, could do anything—even put the serenely blinking golden star with the blonde angel on the very highest limb—without a ladder!

 

Once Christmas was over, I learned that there was also a right way to save the icicles before setting the tree out to the roadside for the garbage man. The cardboard holders were never thrown out. We kept them each year, tucked away with the rest of the re-useable Christmas decorations. Their shiny treasure lay untangled and protected within the corrugated Bekins Moving and Storage boxes that my mother had renamed “CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS” in bold letters with a black magic marker.

 

(JACK SORENSON–ARTIST)

At the end of the Christmas season, I would help my sisters undress the tree and get it ready for its lonely curbside vigil. We would remove the glass balls, the plastic bells, and the homemade keepsake decorations we’d made in school. These were all gently placed in small boxes. The icicles came next, a chore we all detested.

We removed the silver tinsel and meticulously hung it back around the little cardboard hook. Those icicles were much heavier then, being made of real metal and not synthetic plastic. They were easier to handle and, if you were careful, didn’t snarl or tangle. It was a long, slow process—one that my young, impatient hands and mind dreaded.

For many years, I couldn’t understand why everyone—even my friends’ parents—insisted on saving the tinsel from year to year. Then one night, in late December, while Mom and I gazed at the Christmas tree, I learned why.

As she began to tell the story of her first Christmas tree, her eyes looked back through time. She was a child in southeastern Oklahoma, during the dustbowl days of the Depression. She and her siblings had gotten the idea that they needed a Christmas tree. The trekked into the nearby woods, cut down an evergreen, and dragged it home. While my grandfather made a wooden stand for it, the rest of the family popped and strung corn for garland. The smaller children made decorations from paper and glue.

“What about a star?” one of the younger boys had asked.

My grandfather thought for a moment, then said, “I’ve got an old battery out there in the shed. I’ll cut one from that.”

The kids were tickled just to have the tree, but a star, too! It was almost too good to be true.

Grandfather went outside. He disappeared around the side of the old tool shed and didn’t return for a long time. Grandmother glanced out the window a few times, wondering what was taking so long, but the children were occupied with stringing the popcorn and making paper chains. They were so excited that they hardly noticed when he came back inside.

Grandmother turned to him as he shut the door against the wintry blast of air. “What took you so long?” she asked. “I was beginning to get worried.”

Grandfather smiled apologetically, and held up the star he’d fashioned.   “It took me awhile. I wanted it to be just right.” He slowly held up his other hand, and Grandmother clapped her hands over her mouth in wonder. Thin strands of silver magic cascaded in a shimmering waterfall from his loosely clenched fist. “It’s a kind of a gift, you know. For the kids.”

“I found some foil in the battery,” he explained. “It just didn’t seem right, not to have icicles.”

In our modern world of disposable commodities, can any of us imagine being so poor that we would recycle an old battery for the metal and foil, in order to hand-cut a shiny star and tinsel for our children’s Christmas tree?

A metal star and cut-foil tinsel—bits of Christmas joy, silver magic wrapped in a father’s love for his family.

This anthology is only available used now, but it’s well worth purchasing from Amazon and reading so many heartwarming Christmas stories from yesteryear! Hope you all have a wonderful, wonderful Christmas and a fantastic 2025!

 

Do you have a favorite Christmas memory, or a story that has been handed down through your family about something that happened during the holidays? My parents told a lot of stories about their childhoods, but this story was the one that really stood out for me. I’d love to hear about a favorite family story or one of your dearest Christmas memories! I’m giving away one of my Kindle books to two lucky commenters–YOUR CHOICE! 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

 Christmas horses

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE NOELLE’S CHRISTMAS WISH

Click here to view the entire CHRISTMAS STOCKING SWEETHEARTS series on Amazon

CLICK HERE TO SEE ALL BOOKS BY CHERYL PIERSON

 

The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love from Guest Tina Radcliffe

Helps us give Tina Radcliffe a big, warm welcome today!

Hello, Fillies and Friends!

I’m Tina Radcliffe and I’m delighted to be here today.

It’s a bittersweet finale for me as my Love Inspired Lazy M Ranch series comes to an end. I’m grateful for support of readers as they read, reviewed and shared The Baby Inheritance, The Cowboy Bargain, The Cowboy’s Secret Past and my newest release, The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love.

I’m honored to share that three of these releases hit the Publisher’s Weekly bestseller list for mass market paperbacks. And one, The Cowboy Bargain, finaled in the 2024 Carole Awards.

The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love is Luc Morgan’s story. He’s the last of the four Morgan brothers. While it delivers the same humor you can expect from my books, it also shares a message of gratitude and trust.

Book 4 is a Cinderella themed book with a twist.

Here’s a sneak peek into Luc Morgan’s predicament.

Sam started laughing.

Lucas tucked the phone in his pocket and glared at Sam.

“What’s so funny?”

“It just hit me that this is exactly like the prince searching for his princess, getting women to try on glass slippers.” His brother grinned. “You know. Cinderella.”

“You’re comparing my life to a fairy tale? That’s not funny at all.”

“Come on, Luc. You hit your head, lost your memory, found an engagement ring in your gym bag. You have no idea who your intended is, and you’re launching a business without your knowledge.” Sam nodded. “Oh yeah. It is kind of funny, and it could only happen to you.”

Lucas cringed at the words. His brother was right. It could only happen to him.

In addition to ending the series, The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love provides a long-awaited recipe link.

Housekeeper and cook, Bess Lowder has teased us for two years with her delicious cinnamon rolls. Here’s a “taste” from The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love.

Lucas examined the pastries and chose a plump roll thick with cream cheese frosting dripping down the sides over ribbons of buttery cinnamon filling. The Lazy M Ranch housekeeper had a secret recipe for cinnamon rolls that brought grown men to their knees. That included him.

Finally, in Book 4, readers are privy to that secret recipe and a few more. Find them here: Recipes from The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love

I’m a big fan of making the recipes found in novels. What about you? If you do end up trying these cinnamon rolls, drop me a line on social media and let me know.

In the meantime, I’ve brought some goodies to share.

One reader will take home this fun ‘Hay Girl, Hay’ pouch and a print copy of The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love (US).

A second reader will take home an e-copy of The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love (US or International).

Leave a comment and tell me your favorite morning pastry

and let me know if you’d like to be entered to take home these giveaways.

 

If you’d like to find out more about me and keep up with my book news, consider signing up for my newsletter at https://www.tinaradcliffe.com/

Oh, and you can pick up your copy of The Cowboy’s Forgotten Love on Amazon or at Harlequin.

Tina Radcliffe is a Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers Honor Roll member, and a five-time ACFW Carol Award finalist. Her Harlequin novels have won the ACFW Carol Award, the Holt Medallion and appeared on the Publishers Weekly Bestseller list. A US Army Veteran, a former registered nurse, and library cataloger, Tina resides in Arizona, where she writes fun, heartwarming romance and cozy mysteries.

When Life Inspires Fiction

It’s funny the way life tends to circle around sometimes.

When I was a little girl, one of the things my mom and grandma both enjoyed were magazines. I can remember Mom sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a magazine, taking a break between cleaning up from lunch, laundry, chasing after me and the grandkids, and before she began on dinner preparations. My grandma subscribed to a handful of magazines and often passed them on to my mom when she finished reading them.

I learned to appreciate those beautiful glossy pages and found my own enjoyment thumbing through them.

Although I don’t recall when the article came out, or even which magazine it was in, I do remember a feature about the Biltmore House of Asheville, North Carolina. I don’t know what it was about the place or the story, but she became enthralled with the Biltmore. More than once she mentioned wishing she could visit it someday.  Sadly, that didn’t happen in her lifetime.

But last year, Captain Cavedweller and I made a trip to Asheville in December and got to see the incredible Biltmore Estate. (I know they were hit hard by Hurricane Helene, which makes me even more grateful we were able to visit last year.)

The property is spectacular, and the day we visited the blue sky made a gorgeous backdrop.

When we walked through the impressive entry doors, the part of my heart where memories of my mama reside whispered, “We finally made it!” As we explored the house, I felt like she was right there with me, every bit as awed as I felt by the Biltmore.

Captain Cavedweller and I were thoroughly blown away by the estate where everything, from the gifts shops to even the food carts were top notch.

The house, though, is something beyond the description of mere words. One needs to step into a world most of us can’t begin to imagine to fully experience what it is like to visit this incredible historical wonder.

If you’ve never heard of the Biltmore, I encourage you to read more about it. Constructed in the late 1890s by George Vanderbilt, the Biltmore is a 250-room French chateau filled with priceless treasures. Stepping inside the doors is taking a step into a different time where hospitality, luxury, and beauty reigned.

I don’t know what it is about the house, but it has its own presence—a character that lingers with you.

By the time we returned home from our trip, the idea for a series inspired by the Biltmore was already growing in my thoughts.

I knew the house was too big and grand for the story I wanted to write, but bits and pieces of it found its way into my Hudson House series.

 

Another house that added to my inspiration is a mansion located in Portland, Oregon, called the Pittock Mansion. We’ve visited it a few times and I’m always so taken with the feel of the house that really gives off a warm, welcoming vibe, which is how I wanted Hudson House to feel.  My amazing cover designer (thank you Josephine from Covers & Cupcakes) was able to find an image of Pittock Mansion we could use as a starting point for Hudson House on the covers of the books.

Way back in January, I’d planned to write the four sweet romances in this generational series that begins in 1892 and ends with a modern-day story. It didn’t happen. Then I thought I’d get started writing them when CC and I went out of town for a week for Valentine’s Day. I got so entranced watching snowflakes fall in the woods from out hotel window, I didn’t write a single word. Before I knew it, it was June and I still hadn’t started on the series, although I did have my beautiful covers. Eventually, September was half-way gone and I realized if I didn’t get busy the books were never going to be more than words floating through my thoughts.

So, in five weeks of writing, I cranked out the four books that are the Hudson House series.  I hope you’ll enjoy them even half as much as I loved writing them. I hope, too, if you read them, you’ll find that Hudson House isn’t just a setting, but one of the characters in the books.

Hudson House

Four generations find romance and joy during the holidays at a home filled with wonder and love.

The first book in the series, A Christmas Dream, released last week, and A Christmas Spark debuts tomorrow!

He came to build the house of his dreams, but found a home for his heart.

After an extensive search for the ideal location to build a house he’s spent years designing, Brant Hudson knows he’s found the perfect site the moment he sets foot on the land near Silver Bluff, Oregon. However, frustrating delays leave him laboring alongside the very crew he hired to finish the house in time for Christmas. His work leads the woman who catches his eye to believe he’s a carpenter rather than the owner of the grand manor.

Holland Drake grew up on a farm, but she aspires to secure a position as a housemaid at Hudson House. While delivering lunch to her brother at the worksite, the door opens to a job when Holland encounters a strikingly handsome carpenter whose charm captivates her. Soon, Holland discovers the enchanting man is none other than the owner of the house and her new employer.

As the holiday season arrives amid a flurry of excitement and possibilities, Holland and Brant face choices that could change their lives forever. Will fear hold them back from stepping into the future together, or will their Christmas dreams of love come true?

A Christmas Dream is the first book in the Hudson House Holiday series of wholesome, heartwarming Christmas romances full of the joy of the season.

 

Will hope spark a holiday romance?

 After losing his brother and part of himself on a French battlefield during the Great War, Kase Hudson seeks refuge from the haunting memories at his childhood home. He finds solace in carving wooden Santa figurines in his workshop in the stables that he sends to gift shops to sell. Kase distances himself from his family’s unwanted sympathy until his sister, Sarah, arrives for the holidays with her vibrant friend. He never expected beautiful Dori to breathe warmth and joy into the house right along with his heart.

With no family of her own, photographer Dori Stanford eagerly accepts Sarah Hudson’s invitation to join her for Christmas at her family’s home in Oregon. The two friends travel from their college in California to Silver Bluff, excited to spend the holidays at Hudson House. Once they arrive, Dori makes it her mission to connect with Sarah’s sullen brother, Kase, and draws him into the wonder of the season.

Will her persistence and encouragement be the spark Kase needs to step out of the past and into his future—possibly one that includes Dori?

A Christmas Spark is the second book in the Hudson House Holiday series of wholesome, heartwarming Christmas romances full of the joy of the season.

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon Gift Card

and an eBook copy of A Christmas Dream

just share one happy or memorable vacation memory!

 

Trick or Treat with P&P

Game Day!

Let’s go trick-or-treating for cowboy goodies!

Who says dress-up is just for kids? Costumes are fun for adults, too, and here at P&P, they are especially fun if they have a western flair.

Here are some blasts from the Fillies’ pasts:

Karen Witemeyer’s son Wyatt dressed up as a famous Texas Ranger known for his solitary ways. And our dear Shanna Hatfield from her college days dressed as a feisty cowgirl.

Gotta love seeing Linda Broday and Mary Connealy in their western getups.

Travel back to the summer of 1969 for the NebraskaLand Days Parade.  Pam Crooks’s two brothers helped her dad build a telephone float and are dressed as Wyatt Earp and an Indian in front of a make-believe campfire.

And here’s Karen Kay in front of her friend’s teepee.

Now it’s your turn!

If you were to dress up like your favorite cowboy/cowgirl (real or fictional), who would you dress up as? 

Leave a comment with your answer, and you will be entered to win one of two fabulous trick or treat packages.

Courting the Country Preacher: What does traditional publishing look like to an Indie Author?

Burlap background with pumpkins and leaves at side. Cover of Courting the Country Preacher. Text, "What does Traditional Publishing Look Like to an Indie Author? Guest post by Kari Trumbo, Petticoats & Pistols"

Hello everyone! It’s so good to be back in the stable temporarily. I’ve missed you all.

Karen asked me shortly after I stepped away if I wanted to blog at all in the coming year. At that time, I knew I had this release coming out (that’s one good thing about traditional publishing, I know WELL in advance of a release) that I had this book coming!

This is a book that I’d been talking about for a long time and finally, my friend Carolyn Miller contacted me and basically said, “let’s stop just talking about this and find two other authors to do it.” I had the time in my schedule (weird, I know) and I was excited.

It took a little while to find two other authors who also had time in their schedules (more normal people, lol) but then the discussion really started. We decided this would be historical and we like the idea and the tension of a bachelor country preacher finding love either by the push of his congregation, one member, or by the woman herself. It was really fun bouncing ideas around.

 

Coffee, laptop, and hand writing on paper with image of book cover by Kari Trumbo

 

Since I was the only author who hadn’t yet published with Barbour, I had to write my first chapter to submit with the proposal. So, not only did I have to write a one page synopsis of the story, I had to have a nearly perfect, compelling chapter one. I was worried that if my chapter didn’t do it, I could blow the whole project for everyone else.

It took six months to hear back from my agent that we had gotten the contract. In that time, I’d written four indie books. I could barely remember what I’d plotted. Thankfully, I kept good notes. Since I’m a fast writer, I wrote that 30,000 word story in four days (minus the first chapter, which was already done). Then, unlike when I indie, I let it sit. It wasn’t due back to the publisher for six months, so I wanted to return to it and not remember what I’d written when it came time for a read-through.

 

Hand with watch

 

A few months later, we got the mockup for the cover. I already knew that I wouldn’t really be all that involved in the cover creation process, but Barbour did allow us to make suggestions (the church in the background didn’t have a steeple at first). But it was so lovely, I had no real changes to suggest. I’ve been blessed to have two amazing covers for my traditional books.

 

Cover of Courting the Country Preacher by Kari Trumbo. Woman wearing tan dress from late 1800s and man wearing country hat with church in background

 

It was due in February, so in January, I opened the document and did some deep editing. I wanted it to shine for the editorial team so they would like me and hopefully take future work from me. In the end, my editor loved the story. One funny thing I wasn’t expecting was four rounds of edits in a week and a half. I expect that from indie, but I always expect traditional publishing to be slow. In my case, it was not. I was exhausted after those ten days.

I didn’t receive the galley copy (the final read through copy) for a few months after the editing stage. That was a wow moment for me because they do it differently from Harlequin. You literally get to see the fun fleuron (graphic separating a scene) and the chapter header images. Barbour did such a beautiful job. I was blown away.

I printed out my section, did my final read through and sent it back, knowing the next time I would see it would be when it came to me in a box of books from the publisher. As of writing this blog, I haven’t gotten my author copies yet.

I WISH I could describe to you what that is like. I’ve only experienced it with Harlequin. When that box is sitting there and you know what’s in it, something wells up inside you. It isn’t pride, it isn’t joy, it’s more pure than either of those. You’ve done something God asked you to do and in that box is the proof. I cried like a baby the first time I opened one of those boxes and I’m not too proud to say so.

By the time you read this (I wrote this in early September after seeing Karen, Winnie, and Mary at the ACFW conference in New Orleans) I should have my author copies of the book. I would LOVE to offer a signed copy to one commenter (in the US or Canada only, please) outside of those areas, I’ll buy an eBook copy for you and send that. I apologize in advance. I know that’s unfair.

Here is the back cover copy, so you’ll know if you want to enter:

Every Preacher Needs a Wife, Right?

Being a preacher in the countryside is not for the faint of heart nor faith. Four inexperienced preachers face a myriad of challenges including those who figure a man of the cloth needs a wife. Can they meet the expectations of “helpful” congregants and be true to their hearts?

The Mountie’s Rival by Angela K Couch
Canada, 1907 — Tired of living in his twin’s shadow, Jonathan Burton is frustrated to find himself serving as a still wet-behind-the-ears preacher in the same community as his Mountie brother. How is he to find a wife when all the eligible women of the community seem enamored by his dashing brother in scarlet uniform?

Convincing the Circuit Preacher by Carolyn Miller
Australia, 1863 — As soon as Dorothea Maclean saw the country preacher, she knew Mr. Hammill was the man of her dreams. Now she just needs to convince her wealthy parents—and Mr. Hammill.

The Angel and the Sky Pilot by Naomi Musch
Minnesota, 1905 — A preacher with a checkered past sets off to win souls in the lumber camps like the “sky pilots” before him. But can he earn the respect of hard-living men—and still respect himself—after a local trader’s daughter joins the all-male congregation?

Mail Order Minister by Kari Trumbo
South Dakota, 1889 — Olive’s parents mail-ordered a preacher and prayed he’d be a husband for their daughter. The rest of the town—and Olive—have other ideas.

Purchase Courting the Country Preacher

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Kari Trumbo is an international bestselling author of historical and contemporary Christian romance and romantic suspense.

She loves reading, listening to contemporary Christian music, singing when no one’s listening, and curling up near the wood stove when winter hits.

She makes her home in central Minnesota—where the trees and lakes are plentiful—with her husband of over twenty years, two daughters, two sons, a few cats, and a bunny who’s the star of one of her books.

 

Molly and the Hello Girls

My latest release, a wholesome historical romance set in World War I, just released July 11.

Molly is the story of an American Expeditionary Forces Signal Corps switchboard operator (also known as a Hello Girl) and a soldier who is tough yet tender.

When I was researching information for Sadie’s story,  the first WWI book I wrote, I discovered a little information about the Hello Girls who served during World War I.

I thought it would be an incredible thing for Molly, Sadie’s sister, to become one of the Hello Girls. When I dove into the research for this book, I learned so much about these amazing women! They were intelligent, impressive, and inspiring. Although it took them sixty years to be recognized by the Army in which they served, they are credited with opening the door to women serving in the U.S. Army.

In April 1917, America declared war on Germany and joined World War I. Soon after,  General John J. Pershing was tasked with leading the American Expeditionary Forces (which would become the US Army) and went to France to begin the arduous task of preparing for the arrival of American soldiers. He had an overwhelming task ahead of him and soon realized a better telephone system was needed, as well as highly trained operators. In America at that time, most switchboard operators were women.

For the most part, men operating the switchboards lacked the patience, courteousness, and the dexterity to connect calls at a rapid pace. If someone called in yelling orders in their ear, they were just as inclined to hang up as transfer the call. The French operators didn’t always understand English and often lacked the sense of urgency for the call. Calls were delayed, or not placed at all. The need for American women to operate the switchboards for the Army became quite clear.

Advertisements were placed in newspapers across the country in late 1917 and early 1918 asking for women who were fluent in both French and English and could understand French spoken on a telephone line, since the switchboards were connected to the French government as well as the American military in France. The call to “serve your country” as telephone operators was answered by 7,600 women. Although there were age requirements, some of the girls fudged a bit, afraid they’d be turned down. More than 400 women were trained, and 223 were sent to France, becoming the first women to directly contribute to combat operations in American history.

 

Hello Girls

They were the first women in the Army.

When the first unit arrived in France in March 1918, under the leadership of Chief Operator Grace Banker (who was an amazing individual), it was taking an average of sixty seconds for a call to be placed.

Grace Banker

Under the leadership of Grace, the average call placement time dropped to ten seconds. By the end of the war, the Hello Girls had connected over twenty-six million calls.

The girls didn’t all go at once. There were seven units, but the Armistice was signed before the girls in the seventh group could leave New York. The sixth unit arrived in October. I chose to make Molly part of the fourth unit because of their arrival time in France in July. It worked so well with my story’s timeline.

The girls were required to purchase their own uniforms, which was an expensive endeavor. In today’s money, the uniforms would have cost around $5,000-$6,000. The uniforms made them a functioning unit, and helped in their integration.

The Hello Girls were given orders to wear their uniforms at all times, to not socialize with civilians or privates, and to not keep journals or diaries (thank goodness some of them, like Grace Banker, broke the rules and recorded details so important to history!).

Some of the girls served in cities where they had pleasant accommodations and a Y.W.C.A. hostess to keep an eye on them. Other girls were in quaint villages, several of them sharing a house or room. Then there were the girls who ended up in tar paper shacks lined with newspaper and discarded maps to keep out the weather.

Grace Banker and a handful of operators were on the front lines. At one point, their barracks caught fire, and the women went on with their duties while soldiers rescued their belongings. Grace later found her toothbrush in a shoe.

More than thirty of the women received individual commendations, and Grace Banker was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal.

The girls wrote about the importance of their duty. How one transferred call could save a life, or an entire battalion.

The AEF honored the Signal Corps girls with a special memento booklet for Christmas 1918. They also took up a collection to purchase gifts for them.

When the war ended, the work of the Signal Corps women was still needed. Slowly, over the months of 1919, they began to return home. The last girls left France in 1920.

Their return home was not what they expected. Despite serving under commissioned officers, wearing military discs of identification (the World War I equivalent of dog tags), wearing rank insignia on the sleeves of their uniforms with Army buttons, swearing the Army Oath, being subject to courts-martial—after all that, the Hello Girls were informed they were “civilian contractors” instead of soldiers. The Army attorneys argued the women recruited to the Signal Corps were civilian employees “engaged under contract,” although none of the girls signed a contract. They were treated, for all intents and purposes, like they were part of the Army while they served, then ignored by the military when they returned. Because the Army refused to acknowledge them as soldiers, they were not eligible for bonuses, insurance, medical care, military burials, or any of the things the military afforded the men who served in World War I.

Merle Egan was a telephone operator from Helena, Montana, who arrived in France with the fifth unit. She returned home and immediately submitted a claim for the sixty-dollar bonus granted to members of the AEF, only to be denied and told she was a civilian, not part of the Army.

The next sixty years, Merle, and some of the other women, fought a battle for the Army to recognize their service as soldiers. More than fifty bills granting veteran status to the Hello Girls were introduced in Congress, but none passed. Finally, with help from different veterans’ groups and the National Organization for Women, along with a Seattle attorney who took an interest in Merle’s efforts, the Hello Girls received veteran status when Jimmy Carter signed the legislation on November 23, 1977.

It would take until 1979 before the official discharge papers were presented. By then, only eighteen of the women were still alive, but Merle was one of them. She died in 1986 as a veteran of the U.S. Army.

After researching these incredible women and reading their stories, I can’t begin to express how truly magnificent they were. They served with dignity, grace, determination, bravery, and professionalism, and they inspired the next generation of women who would serve in World War II.

 There was even a touching, beautiful poem written about them entitled “To the Telephone Girl” written by Frances A. Johnson. I hope you’ll take a moment to read it.

Right now, you can support a Congressional Gold Medal for the Hello Girls, America’s First Women Soldiers. You’ll find all the details at this website with links to each state. It doesn’t cost a penny to add your support, and only takes a few minutes.

 

Inspired by the Hello Girls, America’s first women soldiers who helped win World War I.

She longs to make a difference. He yearns to claim her heart.

After years of managing the Pendleton telephone office, Molly Thorsen answers the call for women to serve as telephone operators during World War I. Upon her arrival in France, she navigates the challenges of working near the front lines and battles the prejudices and skepticism of the men around her. Determined to prove her worth and skill, Molly faces adversity head-on while unexpectedly falling in love with a charming soldier.

Friday Fitzpatrick may not have been eager to engage in combat, but when he is drafted into the American Expeditionary Forces, he embraces the role of a soldier with unwavering determination. While fighting to survive the harrowing battlefield experiences, he clings to his sanity by dreaming about the captivating Hello Girl who has captured his heart. Though his opportunities to see her are limited, she serves as a beacon of hope in the midst of his darkest days.

Through their shared experiences and the trials they endure, Molly and Friday find comfort and encouragement in each other’s company, forging a connection that defies the chaos of a world in conflict. As the war draws to a close and they return home, will civilian life bring them together or pull them apart?

Find out in this sweet and wholesome historical romance filled with hope, faith, courage, and love.

To celebrate the release of the book, I’m giving away a fun prize pack that includes autographed copies of Sadie and Molly, swag, and this wonderful children’s book about Grace Banker and the Hello Girls.

To enter, pop over to THIS FORM.

I’m also going to give away a digital copy of Molly to one lucky winner today!

To enter, share the name of one woman in history you admire in the comments.