#PetticoatsandPistols

Petticoats and Pistols Sweet Sixteen Birthday!

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We can’t believe it, but another year has flown by, and we’re having another birthday here at Petticoats and Pistols. Thank you to all of you who have been here with us not only this last year, but for so many previous ones. You’ve made the journey fun and memorable.

Since we’re turning 16, a lot of us mentioned what a turning point that was in life because it meant we could drive. The next thing we knew we were sharing personal driving mishaps, discussing if we’d used them in our books, and we decided to share those musings with you. Most of the stories are personal, but a couple fillies didn’t have ones to share. Instead they talked about transportation mishaps in their stories.

We hope you enjoy our thoughts, and they help you get to know each of us a little better.

When I took my learner’s permit test, I missed only one question. At sixteen, I aced my driver’s test and got my license. Apparently, however, I didn’t quite understand the concept of looking around or behind me when I reversed. As a result, during the next six months, I was in a total of three fender benders, all of them my fault. The worst one was when I backed my mom’s new Rivera into the side of my brother’s Bronco. Yeah, I was grounded. And no one in the family talked to me for weeks after that.

My husband and I own a trucking company and sometimes I ride along with him. A few years ago, we were heading eastbound on the interstate, hauling eggs back from Ohio, going about 75 mph. My door jiggled open. At that speed some people might wonder if their door will actually open. I can’t say about a car, but in a 379 long-nose Pete? Yes. Yes, it will.

It was kind of interesting, watching the pavement fly by from a new and rather distressing perspective, as I leaned out, grabbing for the latch. I got the door shut and sat in my seat, panting. I hadn’t quite made it to the euphoria-from-having-cheated-death stage, when my husband, who never left off the throttle, because, you know, he’s a man, and we have to GET THERE FAST, looked over at me. “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that,” he said. With one hand on the wheel, he dug under his seat and handed me a wrench and screwdriver. “You mind checking the latch? I’d hate to lose that door.”

As a perfectionist, I hate trying new things when I don’t think I will be very good at them. So, when my dad determined to teach me to drive a stick shift when I was 15, I was a mess. Between the whiplash and the uncontrollable sobbing, my dad gave up.

Fast forward five years, and my fiancé owns a stick shift that will be our only car after we marry. Insecurities battle the need to impress my man, and after a few patient lessons, I manage to semi-master the necessary skills. Today, I’m a proficient stick shift driver, which just goes to show that true love really does conquer all.

Back in  the days when large families drove station wagons the size of gunboats, my dad took all nine of us into the country so I could get some driving practice. He sat next to me on the bench seat, with my mom by the passenger side door. I approached a Stop sign at a fair amount of speed, with no sign of slowing down.  Maybe I forgot where the brake pedal was, I don’t know. But as we careened closer to that sign, perched on the edge of a ditch, it seemed inevitable I was going to hit it and dive headlights first into that ditch. Only after screaming STOP! STOP! STOP! from the remaining eight family members, did I somehow find the brake pedal with only inches to spare from a collision. I burst into tears, and my dad had had enough. I got out, he moved over, and he drove us all much more safely home.

I learned to drive as a high school junior in 1964. Back then it was offered as a class on driving simulators and credit given. I ran over every person crossing the street and after a few weeks, my instructor told the class that some of us should never be allowed behind the wheel. Thank goodness, he didn’t mention any names, but I knew he was talking about me. Still I kept trying hard. On weekends, my dad took me out to a country road and let me practice. The only thing was our car was a stick-shift and I gave Daddy a whiplash. Thankfully he let me keep at it and I eventually got the hang of it. I passed my state written driving test with a hundred. And even though I was really nervous, I was able to pass the driving part without killing any pedestrians.

The last person my heroine Crystal Jones wants to run into is Sheriff John Turner. Unfortunately, she not only runs into him, she does it with her car! She didn’t mean to give his cruiser a tap and hoped all he gave her was a citation. But she wonders, would she ever be the same seeing him again? After all, her life was nothing but a series of mishaps. Would this be one more thing? She hoped not. She was trying for a fresh start. She didn’t need another broken heart. John broke it well enough the first time. What was he going to do now that she’d smacked his bumper a good one?

I started driving really young as drivers in rural areas sometimes do. My grandma lived about one mile from me on gravel roads, with a single crossing of a paved highway.

I drove over there whenever we needed to pick up anything from her or take anything to her. Or sometimes I made up an excuse because driving was fun! It was all very accepted, and we had neighbors whose fairly young kids were driving around, too.

So, I was driving to grandma’s house and knew I was going too fast. And suddenly, as if I hadn’t driven over to Grandma’s a hundred times before, the stop sign just snuck up on me and I slammed on the brakes….and the car spun completely around in a circle on that gravel road 180 degrees and with STEEP ditches on both sides.

Rather than go plunging off the road into a ditch, or flying out onto the highway, the car stayed right on the road and when I was done sliding and spinning…I was facing the wrong direction, back the way I just came.

I sat there just shaking for long minutes. Finally, I gathered myself enough, I just drove back home the way I came and never told anyone it happened.

The second book I ever published, waaaay back in 2001, was originally titled Something More and has since been reissued as The Unexpected Bride. In the first chapter the heroine, Elthia, has traveled from Massachusetts to Texas to become a governess to a young family. The last leg of her trip takes place via stagecoach, and I open the scene when she arrives at a lonely staging post where the hero is supposed to meet her and transport her to his farm.

To my surprise, my then-agent and two friends who agreed to read and critique the story all referred to that opening scene as taking place at a train station. Puzzled, I went back and reread it. The very first sentence of the scene referenced opening the stagecoach door and there are numerous other references sprinkled throughout to the stagecoach and to working on a change of horses. It was a real head scratcher for me. The only thing I could figure was that because this was a long book (just over 100,000 words) and this was in chapter one and the only scene that referred to the stagecoach, that that ‘minor’ detail had somehow gotten lost. Which only goes to show how our minds can sometimes play tricks on us, filling in gaps with familiar images. I’d like to think that these readers of my early draft were so engrossed in the story that their minds simply replaced the stagecoach with a more familiar mode of transport, the train.  🙂

At sixteen, I lived in Dubuque, Iowa, a town known for its hills. One day I came out of school to find it had snowed a few inches. Without thinking, I drove home via my usual route. Everything was fine until I found myself on a street with a huge hill with a stop sign at the bottom. Knowing there were no other options and cursing myself for not having thought about this awful hill, I set off as slowly as possible. Of course, stopping at the stop sign was impossible, and of course there was another driver foolish enough to think he could make it up this hill. Trying to stop at the sign, my wheels locked, I swerved, and sideswiped his car. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and my dad was understanding even though the car I hit was a new dealer one driven by a car salesman.

I am a GenXer, so I don’t really remember learning to drive. I know I took a driver’s ed course, then I was expected to just know how everything worked. I remember my aunt being the first one to hand me the keys and feeling sick to my stomach at the idea of driving someone else’s car. I had no idea how to keep it in the center of the lane, nor how to hold my foot steady (I think that’s because at the time I was 4′ 6″ and no one told me you could move the seat…) We all lived and apparently the GenX method works because I’ve never had a driving incident. At least, not that I can remember…

Growing up on a farm, I learned to drive years before I could legally do so. By the time I was twelve, I’d progressed from driving the small Ford 9N tractor to being allowed to drive our farm pickup all by myself. I thought I was queen of the world, until I accidentally backed into a section of fence. No one was watching, the fence was unharmed (my dad knows how to set a sturdy fence post), and I couldn’t see any new dents or scratches in the pickup. I was home free! Except for the guilt. It ate at me for several days before I had to tell Dad what I’d done. My punishment was something tragic and dreadful — not getting to drive the pickup for one whole week!

In Idaho you could get a daylight license at 14, which meant that we had students driving to junior high. The much-coveted nighttime license came at age 16. Just a few days before my brother turned 16, I had to make an emergency trip after dark, but I’d just had dental surgery and was on painkillers. My brother offered to drive me even though he wasn’t quite legal. We passed through a very small rural town and there was a sheriff’s vehicle parked in front of a cafe. As we went by, the reds and blues came on. My brother and I desperately tried to figure out how to trade places so it appeared I was driving, but there was no way. He was toast. No night license for another six months. But the guy that approached the car wore logging clothes—Frisco jeans cut short, suspenders, logging boots. It was a logging town, but usually law enforcement wore a uniform. He checked my brother’s obviously daylight-only license, then nodded knowingly. We were about to start our garbled explanation, when to our amazement, he sent us on our way. As near as we could figure, a local good old boy was entertaining himself while the sheriff ate dinner at the café. We still talk about the time we got pulled over by a logger.

Growing up in a small town in Illinois, I was used to driving on gravel as well as dirt roads.  And then, I moved to Los Angeles where I simply couldn’t drive — those freeways literally scared me silly (6-10 lanes on one side of the freeway).

Didn’t last long, though, before I was not only driving on them, but speeding along them, too.  Much later, my godson — who had grown up in a rural area in South Dakota — came to visit and my role reversed; I’m afraid I scared him with my high speed on those multi-lane freeways.

But, I noticed it didn’t take him long before he was racing along those highways, too.  I realized then that a learning curve could be pretty fast when there was a need.

Oh, boy, do I have a memorable event about my early driving years! Born and raised in Oklahoma, the summer I turned 17, my dad was transferred from Oklahoma to Charleston, West Virginia. Um, yes, it was very different! Oklahoma was flat, not many curves, and my husband has teased me for years that we just “wired the steering wheel straight ahead out here because we never needed to turn it.”

One day, I set out to drive to college on a very straight, non-curvy section of the interstate, and a state highway maintenance truck merged on the entrance ramp two lanes over. I thought nothing of it until…his back axle broke right in two. Half of it, with the tire still attached–and rolling along at 60 mph–barreled across two lanes of traffic and headed right for my front passenger-side tire! Yep, it stuck in the tire, but I managed to get the car off the road.

I had a very unlikely guardian angel that day. Our next-door neighbor left for work just after I did and saw it happen. He pulled over and helped me get the info I needed from the other driver, loaded me up, and took me home. I was VERY shaken, but not hurt. It scared me but it made me realize that I’d kept my wits and gotten through it!

GIVEAWAY: Today we’ll be picking 5 winners. To be entered in our random drawing, leave a comment about one of your driving mishaps or one you’ve enjoyed reading in a book scene or watching in a movie. One responder will receive our grand prize of a 12-month subscription to Audible. Four others will win either a drink sleeve and car coasters or the wrist purse and car coasters.

Thank you for being here to share our Sweet Sixteenth Birthday!

 The Fillies

Protecting the Princess

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Despite my tomboy tendencies as a child, I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Always. It’s true!

I loved fairy tale stories with happily ever afters. And like most little girls, I dreamed of being a princess. 

Not much has changed. I still adore fairy tales and happily ever afters. And once in a while, I might even dream about an elaborate ball gown. 

That’s what made it so, so wonderful to write Protecting the Princess, my latest sweet small-town romance that releases next week. 

The story is about an outdoorsy guy who finds an injured woman alone in the mountains. He rescues her, falls in love, then finds out she’s a princess. 

Part of the story takes place at the castle where the princess grew up. I had to create a fake country, then envision what it would look like. What type of industry it might have. Did it have four seasons? What was the population? 

Honestly, I had a blast making up the country of Briden, a tiny European country that exports salt in a variety of forms. The capital city is Zaldovia. The population of the entire country is around 80,000. 

I spent hours drooling over photographs of castles, taking virtual tours and adding several to my bucket list. I narrowed it down to three castles I liked best, all located in France, to use as the inspiration for castle in the story.

 

The one I ended up choosing was Chateau Chamborigaud.  Located in the south of France, this graceful, fairy tale chateau that would look great in a Disney movie has three gorgeous towers with turrets. Chateau Chamborigaud is in the midst of a five-acre park in the Cevennes mountains and a river flows along its boundaries. Built in 1575, it is now open as a “castle for rent” with ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms. 

As I envisioned the castle where Poppy (the princess) grew up, I drew a lot of inspiration from this outstanding French castle.  In my mind’s eye, it was so easy to picture her there – then to picture her there with Parker (our hero). 

Did I mention there’s a ball in the story? There is! So I got to look at dozens of ball gowns to choose just the one for Poppy. And I may have studied some handsome tuxedo images (or maybe it was the men wearing the tux’s), too. 

At any rate, this book was such a joy to write. I hope it will be pure pleasure for readers to enjoy!

He wants to protect her.

   She needs him to love her . . .

 Parker Princeton is a man’s man. The kind who leads expeditions into the wilderness, can start a campfire with nothing but determination, and has survived on a steady diet of beef jerky and Dr Pepper. When he discovers a female in the woods, alone and injured, his first instinct is to protect her, the second to claim her as his own.  Although she can barely remember her name, he’s falling head over heels in love with the beautiful, mysterious woman.

Growing up as a pampered princess from a small European kingdom, all Poppy Granville wants is to experience a normal life. After finishing a year of studies in New York, Poppy decides to explore America before she returns home to face the responsibilities of her title. She ditches her cell phone, buys an old rust bucket car, and sets out on an adventure. After an injury leaves her stranded in the middle of nowhere, a rugged outdoorsman seems to be her only hope of surviving, even if she has to pretend to have amnesia to keep her identity a secret.

Will telling him the truth set her free, or lose him forever?

Laughter, love, and a fairy tale ending await in this funny, sweet romance packed with small-town charm.

Pre-order now at the special price of $2.99. Amazon | Barnes & Noble |  Apple | Kobo

You can see more of what inspired me as I wrote the story on my Pinterest board.

If you could be a princess,
where would you live, and what would your castle look like? What would you wear to a ball?
Post your answer for a chance to win a digital copy of Protecting the Princess!

Mistaken Marshal: Lady & the Lawman Collection By Crystal L Barnes

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“He caught one of them?”
“One of who?” Beau glanced at the dark-haired kid in his hold, a kid who wore a bandanna covering all but his wide blue eyes. A bandanna? What on earth had that spawn-of-Satan horse gotten him into?
“See if you can find the others,” Shorty ordered.
The troublemaker turned his head, causing the bandanna to slip, revealing smooth cheeks without a hint of stubble.
“Right.” With a nod, Lanky hurried toward the water.
Without warning, the kid sank his teeth into Beau’s arm and broke from his hold.
“Ouch! Why, you little brat!” Beau snagged the boy’s leg, knocking him to the ground, and pinned him in the wet sand. “I ought to turn you over my knee.”
“We’re going to do worse than that.”
At the new voice, fear flickered in the kid’s eyes.
Keeping his hands on the young man’s shoulders, Beau looked up to find a well dressed, if winded, older gentleman standing next to Shorty, gun drawn.
“Nice work, mister. You just caught yourself an outlaw.”
An outlaw? Beau glanced down at the youngster whose voice hadn’t even changed. He couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen. How could someone so young already be an outlaw?
Troublemaker, yes, but outlaw?
“Where are the other three?” the gentleman questioned.
Shorty cocked his head toward the water. “Lawson went to see if he could find their trail.”
“Mr. Grimes, perhaps you should lend Mr. Lawson a hand.”
With a nod, Shorty took off as another man approached, horses in tow.
“Mr. Hewitt, toss this fella a rope and help them, please, sir.” The dapper gentleman took the horses’ reins from the balding man Beau had met at the livery earlier that day and turned to Beau. “I believe Mr. . . .”
“Bones,” Beau offered as he accepted the rope from Hewitt and set to binding the outlaw’s hands.
“I believe Mr. Bones and I can manage this one on our own.” The leader paused, drawing Beau’s gaze upward. The bearded man looked from Beau to Satan’s Spawn—or Buster as the horse was more commonly known, a name which now made much more sense considering his aching backside—and back again. “Bones? Are you any kin to our late marshal?”
Beau finished securing the knot, one perfected by what his brothers used to use on him through the years, and hauled the youngster to his feet. “Yes, sir. He was my uncle.”
“Well, looks like you two were cut from the same cloth.”
Beau wished that were true. His namesake had been brave, fierce, afraid of nothing and no one. He was the only one who’d ever believed Beau could amount to something, could do more than struggle in his brothers’ shadows. He’d hoped by coming to Small Tree, Texas, he could prove his uncle right. Prove everyone else wrong. Prove that he could be his own man.
But on his first day in town, he couldn’t even ride his uncle’s horse.
“I’m Mayor Arthur Jones.” After shaking Beau’s hand, the graying gentleman led the way through the trees, the prisoner between them. “I assume you’re here to settle your uncle’s estate, Mr. Bones. Are you going to be in town long?”
“Well, I, uh. . .I’d thought to stay on awhile, but—”
“Wonderful. We could sure use a man like you around Small Tree. As you can see, trouble has already found us in the short time since your uncle’s passing. My condolences, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“What would it take to talk you into staying on and being our new town marshal?”
Beau couldn’t help laughing at the outlandish thought. “Not much, bu—”
“Stupendous! You’re hired.”
“Hired? Wait. What?”
“The job comes with a monthly stipend, plus room and board.” The mayor kept talking,
but Beau’s brain couldn’t take in any more.
Hired? Him? A marshal? He didn’t know anything about being a lawman, only the wild tales his uncle used to spin when he’d come to visit. Tales a little boy with seven older brothers could only imagine experiencing. He couldn’t fill his uncle’s boots, not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand. The mayor was highly mistaken if he thought Beau could handle such an important job. Sure, he’d always dreamed of such a chance, but he couldn’t. . .
He wouldn’t. . .
It wasn’t right to let the mayor, the town, think him capable—
The outlaw stumbled, breaking Beau’s inner argument and his grip on the kid’s arm.
The boy pivoted toward the trees.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Beau had tried that move with his brothers too many times to count. Snagging the youngster’s waist, he tossed him over his shoulder.
The mayor angled him a grin. “See, I knew you were the right man for the job the minute I laid eyes on you. This way, Marshal. I’ll show you where you can lock up this prisoner. Then we’ll send for the judge.”
At the praise, Beau couldn’t help standing a little straighter. Maybe he could do this job. Maybe this was the exact opportunity he’d prayed for almost all his life. Maybe, just maybe, if he tried real hard, he could prove the mayor hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his life by making Beau Bones the newest marshal of Small Tree, Texas.

—Mistaken Marshal by Crystal L Barnes from the Lady and the Lawman Collection, Barbour Publishing.
Howdy y’all! Crystal Barnes here and I hope you enjoyed that sneak peek into my novella in the Lady and the Lawman collection. I got my story idea by kinda blending the Shakiest Gun in the West starring Don Knotts with Marshall Dillon from Gunsmoke. I loved hearing my husband’s laughter as he read this scene about Beau Bones getting roped into a job he never saw coming, so I thought I’d share the fun.
How about you? Have you ever been roped into a job you never expected to have? How did it turn out?
You’ll have to read the rest of Mistaken Marshal to find out how Beau fares. I know I’ve been momunteered many times in my life. For those of you unfamiliar with that term, it’s when your mother volunteers you for something. A situation that normally turns out pretty well because we end up doing the task together.
I’ll be giving away a FREE autographed paperback copy of the Lady and the Lawman to one of this
post’s commenters, so be sure to tell me some of your stories. (Paperback for contiguous US winners only. Sorry.)

Before I go let me add a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to all y’all at Petticoats & Pistols!

Thanks for allowing me to be a part of the celebration today!

A best-selling author, bona fide country girl, and former competitive gymnast, Crystal L Barnes tells stories of fun, faith, and friction that allow her to share her love of Texas, old-fashioned things, and the Lord—not necessarily in that order.
When she’s not writing, reading, or singing, Crystal enjoys spending time with family, exploring on road-trips, and watching old movies/sitcoms. I Love Lucy and Little House on the Prairie are two of her favorites.

You can find out more and connect with Crystal at http://www.crystal-barnes.com.
Find her also on her blog, her Amazon Author page, Goodreads, Pinterest, Google+, or on her Facebook author page.

Want to be notified of her latest releases and other fun tidbits? Subscribe to her newsletter.

Eureka! It’s the Gold Diggers by Caryl McAdoo

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Eureka! It’s the GOLD DIGGERS come to Pistols & Petticoats, and Jewel Jones—of JEWEL’S GOLD—is from a long line of gold diggers! Her daddy (Joshua Jones) and his daddy before him (Moses Jones, first met in book four SINS OF THE MOTHER of my Texas Romance Family Saga) mined gold in California all the way back to the 1850s during the Gold Rush of 1849. God blessed them, and the family is set financially for generations.

But Jewel’s father wanted to make it on his own, find the mother lode for himself on the claims he’d purchased on Troublesome Creek in Alaska. He just hadn’t found enough gold to warrant opening a mine before he perished. He had faith the mother lode was there though. Jewel loved traveling north with him, helping him in the wilderness in her teen years.

It’s 1895, and now Jewel is a grown, intelligent, headstrong Daddy’s girl bent on proving he was right about the Alaskan mine. Her mother’s dead set against the whole dreadful idea of going there again, but had made the bargain…

Why, you ask, did I decide to organize a collection for Gold Diggers?


So, back in December, my husband Ron and I took off on a research journey to ride the Oregon / California Trail for a covered wagon story. It was indeed a fabulous trip I highly recommend for western history lovers! But towards its end, we made a surprise stop at Sutter’s Mill on the American River. It was an unplanned treasure trove of fun and information.


It’s a park and museum with old buildings and replicas. Seeing the place where the California Gold Rush started in Coloma was awesome! When I talked Ron into going, on the map it only looked like twenty to twenty-five minutes.  But the road winding around the mountain down to the beautiful river was an experience in itself!

The place was originally John Sutter’s lumber camp back in 1847. His foreman building the sawmill for him, John Marshall, discovered less than an ounce of shiny metal in January 1848. Some of the other workers started finding gold in their off hours. Rumors were first confirmed in the San Francisco newspaper that March, and by December that year, President James Polk made it official in an address to Congress that gold had been discovered in California, and the Gold Rush of 1849 was on!

 


The S.S. California was one of the steamships that made the voyage. She left New York in early January 1849 on her maiden mail run, scrambling to fill their vacant rooms with passengers. By the time the steamship got around Cape Horn and to Panama City on the Pacific, there were seven hundred people waiting to board to get to California.


In 1849, 40,000 miners took about ten million dollars in gold; the next year, forty-one million worth was mined. And the following year, that amount doubled to EIGHTY-ONE MILLION taken by a hundred thousand miners! After that year, mining levels declined until by 1865, mining brought in less than eighteen million. Isn’t that amazing?


Jewel’s father Joshua (born in book four SINS OF THE MOTHER of theTexas Romance Family Saga) had mining in his blood and passed it on to his daughter. I fell in love with Jewel. When writing, one needs to remember “unity of opposites” which is a nice way of saying the villain needs to be almost invincible, stronger, and more cunning than the heroine. This man we found in the character of Boaz Branson, the son of a con man set to salt Jewel’s mine to increase its value as his father had won a percentage of it in a poker game, but will he turn into a hero? And if he does, then who’s really the bad guy? It is a story that includes adventure, gumption, high stakes, murder, and mystery . . . oh, yes, and romance of course!

JEWEL’S GOLD is Book Four in a wonderful multi-author collection, including Amy Lillard, Chautona Having, Jennifer Beckstrand and myself! If you love the history of the wild west, you’re sure to enjoy the Gold Diggers Collection, launched this past month!
JEWEL’S GOLD  is book four in the 2019 Gold Diggers Collection .


Caryl’s offering a free e-book copy of JEWEL’S GOLD to one of the commenters who answer this question:

Would you have followed your husband or want to go yourself to prospect for gold?

~*~

Best-selling author Caryl McAdoo is all about loving God and giving Him glory! Though western historical Christian romance is her favorite genre—especially family sagas—she also writes contemporary Red River Romances, Biblical fiction, and young adults and mid-grade readers. The prolific hybrid author loves singing the new songs the Lord gives her, too. (Take a listen at YouTube) Caryl counts four children and sixteen grandsugars life’s biggest blessings. She and high school sweetheart-husband Ron (fifty-plus years) live in the woods of Red River County about five miles south of Clarksville in the far northeast corner of the Lone Star State, waiting for God to open the next door.

Website: http://www.CarylMcAdoo.com

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Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CarylMcAdoo.author

GoodReads: http://tinyurl.com/GoodReadsCaryl

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/CarylMcAdoo

Pickup Riders

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Our local rodeo season is about to head into full swing next week. We are fortunate enough to live in an area where we can attend four big rodeos, one every week, for a month.

Since Captain Cavedweller and I both enjoy rodeos, this is a grand thing. 

Thoughts of rodeos and the athletes that compete in them, both human and animal, made me think about a group of folks who largely go unnoticed at rodeo events — pickup men. 

(If you’re thinking about the drunk guys who hang around after the rodeo ends, wrong kind of pickup men!)

The pickup men I’m referring to today have one of the most important jobs at a rodeo because they are there to keep the athletes safe. In the arena, they look after the cowboy at the end of his ride as well as the horses and bulls used in rough stock events and they help with the overall production. They might work for the stock contractor or be employed directly by the rodeo association.

Regardless of how they come to be there, pickup men are often referred to as the ghosts of an arena. They ride in, sometimes seemingly out of nowhere, help a cowboy off a ton of twisting, bucking beast, then guide the animal from the arena before vanishing again. 

Depending on the size of the rodeo, you might see two of them working together while bigger rodeos have as many as six working at a time. 

Pickup men are in the arena from start to finish, but if all goes smoothly, rodeo fans might not notice them at all. Riding horses is second nature to many of the men who work as pickup men. They have to be able to rope a bucking bronc or a rank bull. They also have to be ale to think on the fly and make quick decisions. Out in the arena there isn’t time for talking and deciding what to do. They have to act intuitively. 

Once a cowboy and horse bust out of the chute, the pickup men are watching every move, ready to ride to the rescue or offer a hand when the eight-second buzzer sounds. 

During a ride, most anything can happen and does. 

Competitors can get hung up in rigging or stirrups and find themselves being dragged around the arena or getting an eyeball of dirt while dodging flying hooves. 

While their actions aren’t choreographed, the way pick up men work together can appear so flawless and performed with such ease, it looks like they’ve practiced the intricate dance that is based on their quick reactions and know-how.

Pickup men have cowboys crawling all over them and their horses which makes it essential they can handle a cowboy hanging off his shoulder.

 

Or his neck, or whatever else the athlete happens to get a hold of in his scramble to get off a wildly bucking bronc. 

The equipment a pickup man uses is vitally important to a smooth, successful rodeo, too. His saddle has to fit just right, many use specialized bits, and they all have a favorite brand of rope they use. Many use breast collars on their horses to keep their saddle from sliding back if they have to rope a bull. And it gives a little added advertising space to their stock contractor or sponsor.

The pickup man might wear shin guards, or kickpads, around their lower legs to protect from flying hooves, scrambling boots from the rodeo athlete as he tries to get off a bucking animal, or even just a saddle bronc saddle rubbing against it when he has the horse snubbed to get it out of the arena. 

Another piece of equipment no pickup man would work without is his chaps. They provide another layer of protection against the bucking horses and their saddles. 

It’s also important for their horses to be well-trained and able to keep up with a reaction that happens in a split-second. Many pickup men have a string of horses they use, rotating them out between each event.  One horse might do better picking up bareback riders while one might do better when it’s time to chase bulls out of the arena. Most pickup men will use splint boots for their horses for protection against injury. 

Some pickup men work smaller rodeos they can catch on a weekend and still keep their regular job (like ranching). 

Others travel non-stop on the rodeo circuit right along with the rodeo athletes, gone from home for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. 

At the end of the day, the pickup men are the unsung heroes who might have prevented a cowboy from receiving a serious injury, or kept a bull from charging into a crowd.

So, the next time you are at a rodeo, take a moment to watch these men at work and think about all they do to make the rodeo a safe place for everyone to enjoy. 

If you enjoy reading about rodeos, check out my Rodeo Romance series. Each book can be read as a stand alone and features a different rodeo event or personality. Right now, Racing Christmas is on sale for just 99 cents! The hero in the story just happens to be a pickup man.

“From the realistic rodeo scenes to the tender love scenes Shanna Hatfield keeps you reading.”

Jodi Thomas, New York Times Bestselling Author

She’s racing to save the ranch

He’s struggling to win her heart. . . again

Brylee Barton has just one goal in mind: win the barrel racing world championship. Not for the glory, but for the attached cash prize that could save her family’s ranch. When an injury leaves her at the mercy of the very same copper-headed, silver-tongued cowboy she once vowed to loathe forever, she has no choice but to swallow her pride and accept his help.

Fun-loving, easy-going Shaun Price has a million dollar smile, more charm than he can channel, and a string of ex-girlfriends rumored to have started their own support group. When the one woman he’s never quite managed to get out of his head or heart needs his assistance, he jumps at the chance to help. Little does he realize how challenging it will be to keep from falling for her all over again.

Will Shaun and Brylee discover the gift of forgiveness, and experience their own happily-ever-after?

Available on Amazon

Answer this question for a chance to win an autographed copy of The Christmas Cowboy, book 1 in the Rodeo Romance series! 

What is your favorite rodeo event? 

 

Pearl Hart by Vickie McDonough

by

You’ve probably never heard of Pearl Hart, but she committed one of the last
stage robberies in the Old West. Pearl was born in Lindsay, Ontario, to
affluent and religious parents, who afforded her with the best education
available. She was enrolled in boarding school at the age of sixteen, where
she met her future husband, who seemed to have various first names, but
most often was referred to as Frederick Hart.

 

Unknown photographer (Historian Insight)

[Public domain]via Wikimedia Commons

Frederick Hart was known to be a drunkard and gambler. Pearl eloped with
Hart, but quickly learned he was abusive, so she returned to her mother’s
home. They reunited and separated several times, resulting in two children,
which Pearl left with her mother.
Pearl’s husband worked a stint at the Chicago World’s Fair, where Pearl
developed a fascination with the cowboy lifestyle while watching Buffalo Bill’s
Wild West Show. After the fair, the couple moved to Colorado. Hart described
this time in her life: “I was only twenty-two years old. I was good-looking,
desperate, discouraged, and ready for anything that might come. I do not care
to dwell on this period of my life. It is sufficient to say that I went from one city
to another until sometime later I arrived in Phoenix.” During this time Pearl
worked as a cook and singer. There are also reports that she developed a
fondness for cigars, liquor, and morphine during this time.
Hart ran into her husband again, and they lived in Tucson for a time. But
things went badly, and the abused started again. When the Spanish-American
War broke out, Mr. Hart signed up. Pearl shocked observers by declaring that
she hoped he would be killed by the Spanish.

 

Pearl resided in the town of Mammoth, Arizona in early 1898. Some reports
say she was working as a cook in a boardinghouse. Others say she operated
a tent brothel near the local mine. While she did well for a time, the mine
eventually closed, and her financial status took a nosedive. About this time
she received a message asking her to return home to her seriously ill mother.
Hart had an acquaintance known as “Joe Boot” (most likely an alias), who
worked at a mining claim he owned. When the mine didn’t yield gold, Hart and
Boot decided to rob the stagecoach that traveled between Globe and
Florence, Arizona. The robbery occurred on May 30, 1899, at a watering point
near Cane Springs Canyon, about 30 miles southeast of Globe. Pearl had cut
her hair short and dressed in men’s clothing, and she was armed with a .38
revolver.
The trio stopped the coach, and Boot held a gun on the robbery victims while
Hart took $431.20 and two firearms from the passengers. Reports say Pearl
returned $1 to each passenger to aid them in getting home. Less than a week
later, a sheriff caught up to them and both were put in jail. Boot was held in
Florence while Hart was moved to Tucson since the jail lacked facilities for a
lady.

The room Hart was held in was not a normal jail cell but rather made of lath
and plaster. Taking advantage of the relatively weak material, Hart escaped
on October 12, 1899. She left behind an 18-inch hole in the wall. Just two
weeks later, she was recaptured near Deming, New Mexico. After their trials,
both Hart and Boot were sent to Yuma Territorial Prison to serve their
sentences.


In December 1902, Pearl received a pardon from Arizona Territorial Governor
Alexander Brodie. After she left prison, Hart disappeared from public view for
the most part. She had a short-lived show where she re-enacted her crime
and then spoke about the horrors of Yuma Territorial Prison. Tales from Gila
County claim that Hart returned to Globe and lived there peacefully until her
death on December 30, 1955, other reports place her death as late as 1960.
Hart’s exploits have been popular in western pulp fiction. The musical The
Legend of Pearl Hart was based upon Hart’s life, and her adventures are
mentioned in the early 1900s film Yuma City. Pearl Hart was the subject of an
episode of Tales of Wells Fargo that aired on May 9, 1960, played by Beverly
Garland. She was also the subject of a Death Valley Days episode from
March 17, 1964, titled “The Last Stagecoach Robbery”, with Anne Frances
playing the part of Pearl.

 

The Lady and the Lawman:

4 Historical Stories of Lawmen and the Ladies Who Love Them

 
My novella in Lady and the Lawman collection:
 
On Track for Love by Vickie McDonough
Missouri, 1875
A new job and a move to a new state put Railroad Agent Landry Lomax on track to meet Cara Dixon—a spirited woman holding a derringer on a train robber. This stubborn woman is not one he wants around his young sister, but then they end up in the same St. Louis boardinghouse. But could Cara’s gumption help him trap a gang of train robbers?
 
 
~*~
Vickie will give away one print copy of Lady and the Lawman to a US winner. To enter for a chance to win the book, please answer this question:
Would you have been an outlaw or a lawman?
~*~
 
About Vickie McDonough:
Bestselling author Vickie McDonough grew up wanting to marry a rancher, but instead, she married a sweet computer geek who is scared of horses. She now lives out her dreams penning romance stories about ranchers, cowboys, lawmen, and others living in the Old West. Vickie is a best-selling author of more than 50 published books and novellas, with over 1.5 million copies sold.

How I fell in Love with New Mexico and the Diné People by Laura Drake

by

My husband and I have crisscrossed New Mexico on a motorcycle several times, and I fell in love with its harsh beauty. But it wasn’t until we did a bicycle tour across the state that I felt New Mexico. A bicycle is much slower, so you have hours and hours alone on the road to notice: the huge expressive sky that can change moods in minutes; the crumbling walls of rock with striations of color from off-white to ochre; the lonely wind, ruffling the grasses. The land spoke to me in ways no other has; it left marks on my soul.

 Along the way, we learned of the rich history of The People—The Navajo. We rode our bicycles 75 to 100 miles a day, visiting ruins, missions and pueblos.

I even got to pet a wolf! 

 

At night, we met the local tribe. Several shared a meal with us, danced and imparted some of their rich culture and history.

 

I came away with a deep respect for their wisdom, how they live, and how they view the world.

I wanted to honor them in some small way, and my July release, Home at Chestnut Creek, is my attempt at that.

It features a Navaho hero, Joseph ‘Fishing Eagle’ King, a man driven by his past to preserve his culture—who falls in love with a damaged white woman.

Our ‘Tour of the Nations’ bicycle ride is a memory now, but the land and people? They’re in my heart.

 

Home at Chestnut Creek is the second in the Chestnut Creek series, set in the fictional town of Unforgiven, New Mexico.

Find Home at Chestnut Creek here: https://books2read.com/u/49Djad

To enter for a chance to win a paperback copy of Home at Chestnut Creek (US only, please), just post a comment answering this question:

Would you take a bike tour? Where would you go? 

Author Bio:

Laura has always been a storyteller.  It began on her front porch, telling ghost stories to the neighborhood kids.  They ran screaming, but kept coming back for more. If she wasn’t telling a story, she had her nose in one, bumping into students in the halls on her way to classes.

Her settings are Western, but Laura grew up in the suburbs outside Detroit.  Always tomboy, she’s always loved the outdoors and adventure. In 1980 she and her sister packed everything they owned into their Pintos and moved to California, sight unseen. There Laura met her husband, a motorcycling, bleed-maroon Texas Aggie, and her love affair with the West began. Discover more about Laura’s books on her website:https://www.lauradrakebooks.com/

Grass Valley Cowboys

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A few weeks ago, I was working on promotional plans for my books for the summer. As I browsed through my books, a little niggling thought kept popping up… one that said it was time for more book cover makeovers.

Every once in a while, I’ll give a book cover a new look. It’s fun and allows my brain to use some different creative skills. 

This time, the series I decided could use a new look is one of my favorites — the Grass Valley Cowboys. 

Set in the tiny Oregon town of Grass Valley, this series focuses on (as the title implies) the cowboys who live there. Specifically, cowboys from the Thompson and Morgan families.

I had such a good time writing these books and I do plan to write a few more before I bring the series to an end. The inspiration for the series came when I happened to drive through the area on the way to spend the weekend with my aunt and cousins. I just couldn’t help thinking what a fun setting Grass Valley would provide for a story.  Not only that, but one of my dear friends grew up in the area, and had stories to share about things that happened there.

The settlement of Grass Valley began with the establishment of a few stock ranches. Settlers began to arrive in the area and were soon plowing the cattle-sustaining grass to plant wheat fields.  Dr. Charles R. Rollins, a physician from New Hampshire, is credited with establishing Grass Valley when he arrived in the area with a small party of pioneers.  Dr. Rollins had an easy time choosing a name for the location since the rye grass grew thick and tall in the alkaline soil. Rollins built a large two-story hotel, which included a clinic from which he prescribed and sold medicine. 

The Grass Valley Cowboys series takes place in modern times, but as I wrote the stories, I often envisioned what life was like when the area was yet settled. When deer hid from hunters in the tall grass and those crossing the Oregon Trail pressed onward for the fir-dotted hills of the Willamette Valley. 

Here’s a little about the books and a look at the brand-spanking new covers!

The Cowboy’s Christmas Plan

Grass Valley Cowboys Book 1

Cadence Greer’s plans for a happy-ever-after are quickly derailed when her fiancé runs off with his secretary a week before their wedding. Homeless, jobless, and jilted, she escapes to Grass Valley, Oregon, where she takes a job as a housekeeper and cook to seven cowboys on a sprawling ranch.

Trey Thompson is a well-respected pillar of the community, running a successful ranch with his brother. All he wanted was someone to cook meals and keep the house clean. When he hires Cadence Greer for the job, he gets more than he ever planned on, including a sassy little redheaded orphan.

 

The Cowboy’s Spring Romance

Grass Valley Cowboys Book 2

Trent Thompson doesn’t have many secrets, except for the torch he’s carried for the new schoolteacher since she moved to Grass Valley more than three years ago. Instead of asking her out, he’s dated every single female in a thirty-mile radius, giving her the impression he holds no interest in knowing her.

Lindsay Pierce moved to Grass Valley to teach and quickly fell in love with the small community as well as the delightful people who live there. Everyone welcomes her warmly except for one obnoxious cowboy who goes out of his way to ignore her.

Will Trent be able to maintain the pretense when he has to babysit his niece, who happens to be in Lindsay’s class?

 

The Cowboy’s Summer Love

Grass Valley Cowboys Book 3

After six years in the service and two tours of duty in the middle of a war zone, Travis Thompson eagerly returns home to Grass Valley, ready to resume his life on the Triple T Ranch with his two older brothers. Ever the wild-child, Travis doesn’t disappoint as he rolls from one adventure to another in his quest to keep his adrenaline pumping. He needs a release for the tension constantly building inside him, especially after he discovers the girl he’s loved his entire life just moved back to Grass Valley.

In love with Travis Thompson since she was old enough to notice boys, Tess Morgan can’t stay away from him no matter how hard she tries. Convinced Travis sees her only as his best friend’s sister, she wants him to realize she is the woman who could love him deeply and passionately.

 

The Cowboy’s Autumn Fall

Grass Valley Cowboys Book 4

Brice Morgan thought love at first sight was some ridiculous notion of school girls and old ladies who read too many romance novels. At least he does until he falls hard and fast for an intriguing and thoroughly perplexing woman at a friend’s wedding.

Bailey Bishop attends her cousin’s wedding with no intention of extending her brief visit to Oregon. Married to her career as a paleontologist, Bailey tries to ignore her intense attraction to her cousin’s best friend, Brice. Ready to return home to Denver, Bailey instead accepts the opportunity to explore a new dig site not far from the family’s ranch in Grass Valley. Can she keep her feelings for Brice from derailing her plans for the future?

 

The Cowboy’s New Heart

Grass Valley Cowboys Book 5

Former bull rider Hart Hammond spent twenty years building a business empire while successfully avoiding love. He buried his heart the same day he made his last bull ride and has vowed to never make the mistake of loving a woman again. Then he meets the beautiful mother of the fun-loving Thompson tribe.

Years after her husband died, Denni Thompson can’t bear to think of giving her heart to anyone else. With three newly married sons, a grandchild on the way, and a busy life, Denni doesn’t entertain any notions of romance until she encounters the handsome new owner of Grass Valley’s gas station.

 

The Cowboy’s Last Goodbye

Grass Valley Cowboys Book 6

With his siblings and friends entangled in the state of matrimony, Ben Morgan is more determined than ever to remain blissfully single. Despite his vehement refusal to commit to a relationship, he can’t help but envision a future with the sweet, charming woman who unknowingly captures his heart.

Harper Hayes is an expert at bad relationships. After vowing never to wed, the idea enters her mind with alarming frequency after she meets Ben Morgan. Although the handsome cowboy makes it clear he’s only interested in having fun, Harper’s dog and crazy uncle have other ideas.

 

You can find all the books in the series on Amazon .

Also, for a limited time, The Cowboy’s Summer Love is on sale for just 99 cents! 

If you were going to come up with a name for a book in this series, what would you choose? 

Landscape Architecture from the Past

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Recently, I was eyeball deep in research for an upcoming historical release. 

In the story, set in 1913, the heroine is a nanny and the hero is a landscape architect. 

The hero, Flynn, runs a landscaping business with his sister. Not only does he design elaborate (or simple) gardens and yards, he also has a huge greenhouse where he develops and experiments with plants. 

When I started working on Flynn’s character and his profession, I did some research into landscape architects and greenhouses.

The first recorded greenhouses were in Rome around 30 AD. Legend states that the physicians of Emperor Tiberius told him he needed, for health purposes, to eat a cucumber every day. Supposedly, his scientists and engineers brainstormed how to grow plants year round and the greenhouse came to be.

Greenhouses traveled to America in the 1700s. They grew in popularity in England in the mid-1800s when glass began to be widely manufactured. The inspiration for Flynn’s greenhouse comes from the spectacular Temperate House at Kew Gardens in London. My gracious, I’ve added this impressive garden to my bucket list of places I hope to someday see.

Temperate House is the world’s largest Victorian glasshouse and recently reopened after an extensive renovation process. Some of the world’s rarest and most threatened species of plants are among the 1,500 species of plants from Africa, Australia, New Zealand, the Americas, Asia and the Pacific Islands included on display.

Of course, Flynn’s greenhouse isn’t as magnificent as this or nearly as large, but it did give me some wonderful ideas of what his greenhouse might look like. And he has an interesting collection of plants and flowers he’s collected from his travels around the world.

When I first considered Flynn’s career, the term landscape architect seems so modern. But I discovered the roots of the profession go back to 1828 when Gilbert Laing Meason, a Scotsman, wrote a book offering insights into the art of relating architecture to landscape. William Andrews Nesfield was reportedly the first person hired as a “landscape architect. He designed garden areas for Buckingham Palace in London and Castle Howard in Yorkshire. In 1863, Fredrick Law Olmstead used the term landscape architecture for designing public open space (parks). Olmstead is known as the father of American Landscape Architecture. I like to think his work helped inspire my character Flynn.

In the story, Evie (releasing May 23), Flynn is hired to design and install an elaborate garden at the home of a well-to-do couple with three young children. Flynn finds himself falling for the nanny and scheming ways to spend time with the effervescent woman. 

Will love bloom between a spunky nanny and a distracted landscaper?

Unconventional nanny Evie Caswell views it as her duty to bring fun and laughter to the residence of her strict, aloof employers. Full of life and spirit, she is determined to teach the couple’s children how to be young and carefree. With hardly a minute to herself, she long ago surrendered her dreams of having her own home and a family. Then her employer hires Flynn Elliott, a landscape architect, to turn the yard into a spectacular garden. Enchanted with the intriguing man, Evie realizes after meeting Flynn nothing in her life will ever be the same.

Renowned for his landscape designs and ability to make anything grow, Flynn Elliott is a bit of an enigma. He spouts romantic poetry to the plants in his greenhouse and stealthily avoids social interactions, yet can charm birds right out of the trees when the need arises. While his sister handles the finer details of their business, he often loses himself in his work, forgetting the outside world exists. A chance encounter with a beautiful woman in a moonlit garden leaves him seeking opportunities to discover more about the effervescent Evie and the joy she radiates to those around her.

Will the two of them be able to set aside their doubts and fears to embrace a happily ever after?

Brimming with lighthearted moments, snippets of history, and the hope of true love, Evie is a sweet historical romance sure to warm your heart. 

Available May 23, you can pre-order your copy today! 

If you could travel back to 1913, what career would you choose?

Go-Carts and Baby Carriages

by

Recently, I was diving deep into research for a story set in 1913.

Among the resource books piled on my desk was my trusty reproduction copy of a 1908 Sears, Roebuck & Co Catalog. I love all the little everyday details I can unearth in its many pages!

That day, I was on the hunt for baby gear. One reason was that it tied into the story I was working on, where the main character was a nanny to three young children. But also, with my niece’s first baby on the way, I’ve had all things baby on my mind for the past few months. Perhaps a subscription to 123 Baby Box could provide my niece with all the essential gear and supplies she needs for her little one’s first few months.

I was interested in a description of baby carriages.

 

I wanted to see images of what they would have looked like during that time period.

Did they have any unique features or selling points? What would make a young mother decide to purchase this option or that one?

I had grand visions of ornate carriages with flowery details.

What I didn’t anticipate was to be so surprised by the product description.

Notice anything strange in the description?

They called them Go-Carts!

I had no idea they’d ever been labeled as go-carts.

On the following page they had advertisements for baby carriages.

I studied both pages for a while, reading the descriptions, trying to figure out what the difference could be.

At first I thought that perhaps a carriage meant the baby could rest flat and a go-cart meant they were sitting upright. But the go-carts advertise being able to recline.

Then it a light bulb went off. I think the difference is that go-carts can be moved into different positions and many of them could be folded flat (how handy!) like a stroller.
I tried to dig up some research to either confirm my idea or dash it, but I have yet to find anything that talks about go-carts from Victorian or Edwardian days.

I did find an interesting history of baby carriages, though.
William Kent, a landscape architect, designed the first carriage in 1733. It was created for the children of the Duke of Devonshire. Kent constructed a shell-shaped  basket on wheels the children could sit in and be pulled by a goat or pony.

Wealthy families were Kent’s primary customers.

The 19th century was a time when parks and recreational spaces were enjoyed as family strolls became popular. An economical way to take babies along needed to be developed.

Benjamin Potter Crandall manufactured a new design in the early 1800s. He claimed his baby carriages were the first manufactured in the US, although it’s been argued

the F.A. Whitney Carriage Company may hold the title. At any rate, Crandall developed a style that could could be pushed rather than pulled. His design was largely rejected. His son son, Jesse, eventually took over the business and made some additions, including a brake and added a model that folded as well as parasols and accessories. Reportedly, Queen Victoria purchased three of them which made his designs a must-have for mothers everywhere.

Carriages were built of wood or wicker and held together with expensive brass joints. Often, they turned into ornamented works of arts.

Models were named after royalty, like Princess and Duchess.

Charles Burton created the first “pram” or perambulator. It had a three-wheel push design and looked a little like an arm chair on big spoke wheels. Customers found it unwieldy and complained about the design, but Burton was determined to succeed. He took his design to England where he found popularity once the royals began using it. In the UK, the word pram is used to describe a carriage, because of the popularity of the perambulator.

In 1889, William H. Richardson patented the idea of the first reversible carriage. The bassinet was designed to face out or in toward the parent. Until that point, the axis didn’t allow each wheel to move separately, but Richard’s design increased maneuverability.

Before long, go-carts were being advertised that could fold flat, recline and more.

As the new century advanced, so did improvements with baby carriages and strollers until we reached today’s models, filled with accessories and safety features.

If you’d like to find out more about the story that necessitated this research, look for Evie, coming May 23! It’s available now for pre-order on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/y4gnadrk 

Will love bloom between a spunky nanny and a distracted landscaper?

Unconventional nanny Evie Caswell views it as her duty to bring fun and laughter to the residence of her strict, aloof employers. Full of life and spirit, she is determined to teach the couple’s children how to be young and carefree. With hardly a minute to herself, she long ago surrendered her dreams of having her own home and a family. Then her employer hires Flynn Elliott, a landscape architect, to turn the yard into a spectacular garden. Enchanted with the intriguing man, Evie realizes after meeting Flynn nothing in her life will ever be the same.

Renowned for his landscape designs and ability to make anything grow, Flynn Elliott is a bit of an enigma. He spouts romantic poetry to the plants in his greenhouse and stealthily avoids social interactions, yet can charm birds right out of the trees when the need arises. While his sister handles the finer details of their business, he often loses himself in his work, forgetting the outside world exists. A chance encounter with a beautiful woman in a moonlit garden leaves him seeking opportunities to discover more about the effervescent Evie and the joy she radiates to those around her.

Will the two of them be able to set aside their doubts and fears to embrace a happily ever after?

Brimming with lighthearted moments, snippets of history, and the hope of true love, Evie is a sweet historical romance sure to warm your heart.

~*~

Oh, and if you’re wondering, my niece and her sweet husband welcomed a bouncing baby boy April 2! I was there for his arrival, but can’t wait to return for a visit and hold Baby T again!

~*~

If any of you know any history about the difference in go-carts and baby carriages, I’d love to learn more.

In the meantime, feel free to share your favorite “baby” item. What makes your heart pitter-patter and think of babies when you see it? A blanket? An adorable pair of booties? Sweet little onesies?