Marriage by Arrangement by Anne Green ends April 1st

ANNE GREENE delights in writing about wounded heroes and gutsy heroines. Her second novel, a Scottish historical, Masquerade Marriage, won numerous writing awards. The sequel Marriage By Arrangement releases in April.  A Texas Christmas Mystery also won awards. In 2014, her World War II novel, Angel With Steel Wings, about WASPs, women test pilots will release. She makes her home in McKinney, Texas. Tim LaHaye led her to the Lord when she was twenty-one and Chuck Swindoll is her Pastor. In 1990, Anne graduated summa cum laude with a Bachelor’s degree in Literary Studies from the University of Texas.

View Anne’s other books, her blog, travel pictures, and art work at http://www.AnneGreeneAuthor.com. Anne’s highest hope is that her stories transport the reader to an awesome new world and touch hearts to seek a deeper spiritual relationship with the Lord Jesus. Buy Anne’s books at http://www.PelicanBookGroup.com. Or at http://www.Amazon.com. 

Welcome Anne! So glad to have you join us. My daughter who is an avid golfer would die for your view. Readers, please answer the question, What would your dream view from your front window be? Or ask Anne a question to be entered in the drawing. Don't forget to leave your email addy and if you are a follower be sure to mention that so I can give you an extra entry. 

 

Where are you right now?

It’s 4:03 p.m. and I’m sitting at my computer in my office. I just repainted my office at bright yellow and it contains my hundreds of books, has windows on our four sides. The two large front windows and windowed patio doors open to the upstairs balcony which overlooks the sixth hole on our golf course. I have a wrap-around glass desk with all the computer accouterments in arm’s reach. Behind me is a full-sized pool table. I’ve converted this large room into my office, and it’s a wonderful place to work. I’m wearing khaki  slacks and a purple silk long-sleeved sweater. And I’m getting too warm. This early in March, McKinney, TX is 80 degrees.

What is the most interesting thing I’ve learned while doing research?

The reason I wrote my two Scottish historicals was to discover whatever happened to the thriving life of the Scots in the Highlands and what ended the clan system. What happened really opened my eyes. Read my books Masquerade Marriage and Marriage By Arrangement and discover the answer.

If you were told you were being sent back to live in the 19^th Century, and you could bring one thing from today, what would that be? I would have to bring a bible, as there were plenty of copies available. Any clothes I might take would be too eye-catching. Wouldn’t want to create a riot. There wasn’t enough electricity available to take any electronic gadgets, not even a hair dryer. I’d like to take my husband, but I don’t think I could (only one time traveler per vehicle). So, I think I’d take the next days’, weeks’, and months’ printout of what the stock market did before the panic of 1873 and make enough money to live comfortably and be able to write about the era first hand. 

What is something that very few people know about you? I’m an open book. What you see is what you get. But I must have some deep, dark secret somewhere. Hmm?

What is your favorite material item that you own? I don’t have any family heirlooms. My Mom was one of those people who if you didn’t use an object, you didn’t need it, so out it went. I’m rather the same way. I guess my favorite object would be objects. I love my photo albums (before digital) of my children from birth on up. 

If you could live in any time period other than the one we live in, when and where would that be and why? I think it would have been cool to be a teen to young adult in the roaring 1920s, but I wouldn’t have wanted to live through the Great Depression or World War II. So, I’d say from 1820s through the 1920s. I’d live in California and become one of the first actresses on the silver screen. A writer is not very different from an actress since the writer becomes each character in her books. And the silver screen was wide open to anyone early on.

Do you think birth order affects the way you write? WOW—hard question. I have an older sister who got all the attention in our family. Surely I didn’t write to gain attention. Nope, didn’t. A writer can go a very long time without gaining any attention. But perhaps one small reason I write is because I can go off by myself and jump into other more exciting worlds to live through my characters. Actually, I didn’t start writing until I’d left home and been married for several years. I really doubt birth order had anything to do with the way I write. What do you readers think? Has birth order affected your chosen path in life?

If you were writing a book about your life, what would the title be? Trust God—He Know What Is Best.

What one novel did you read that made you want to be a part of the story? When I was in my early teens I read the book, The Robe. This book was about people who came into contact with the robe Jesus wore and it was set in Biblical days with the Roman Centurion who crucified Jesus as the first owner of The Robe. I wasn’t a Christian then and the book touched me deeply. I wanted to live back in those times. And, of course, I always wanted to be Jo in Little Women. Now, though, I think these are the best times to ever be alive!

                                                         A MARRIAGE COVENANT

            Why does a handsome, powerful noble of the highest rank in England stoop to marry a mere Lady of Lowland Scotland?

                                                                A GREAT SECRET

            Are the whispered stories about him true? With his shadowy past and strange behavior what awful secret does he hide? Each change of clothes transforms him into a different man.

                                                           

                                                            AN IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE

            Can Lady Cailin keep her vow to make her marriage happy and successful, unlike that of her parents, or to save her unborn child, must she arrange for the Duke’s accidental death? 

DOUBLE YOUR CHANCES OF WINNING by following my blog with Powered by FEEDBURNER on the right, and don't miss any giveaways (the button with the flame). If you already follow my blog go ahead and follow by FEEDBURNER so you can be entered twice. If you're not getting an email telling you I have a new giveaway you're not following through Feedburner. Just mention that you follow through Feedburner when you leave a comment with each giveaway and you'll be entered twice.

Be sure to leave your email address. Please check your junk mail on and the day after the drawing. I've had to redraw because of no responses. Subject box will have: winner of (book title). I'll email the winner and they'll have seven days to respond. If I don't hear back I'll draw another name. USA shipping only. Thanks so much and please stop back again! Drawing will be held Monday, April 1st, 8:00 A.M. EST. Offer void where prohibited. Odds of winning vary due to the number of entrants.

 

Dawn Comes Early by Margaret Brownley ends March 25th

 About Margaret

Thrills, mystery, suspense, romance: Margaret penned it all. Nothing wrong with this—except Margaret happened to be writing for the church newsletter. After making the church picnic read like a Grisham novel, her former pastor took her aside and said, "Maybe God's calling you to write fiction."         

So that’s what Margaret did. She’s now a New York Times bestselling author and a Romance Writers of America RITA finalist with more than 28 novels to her credit.  Her first non-fiction book Grieving God’s Way: the Lasting Path to Hope and Healing has won much critical acclaim.  Look for more of Margaret’s storytelling in A Bride for All Seasons collection (June) and the exciting conclusion to the Brides of Last Chance Ranch series Gunpowder Tea (September). Not bad for someone who flunked 8^th grade English.  Just don’t ask her to diagram a sentence.

More Love and Laughter from . . .

Margaret Brownley

Horses to Horsepower

In my new book Waiting for Morning Dr. Caleb Fairbanks drives an automobile he built himself.  The car he calls Bertha has one very bad habit; it backfires.  Thinking she’s being shot at, Molly Hatfield does what any feisty heroine would do; she shoots back.  Not only does this start a cattle stampede but almost gets Caleb killed.

Ah, the automobile. What would we do without it?  Today cars are blamed for everything from global warming to funding terrorism through dependency on oil.  But it wasn’t that long ago that the old gray mare was held responsible for the social and economic ills of the world.

In 1908, it was estimated that New York City alone would save more than a million dollars a year by banning horses from its streets. That’s how much it cost to clean up the tons of manure clogging the roadways each year. 

Horses were also blamed for traffic congestion, traffic deaths, diseases and, of all things, noise pollution.  Hooves clattering on cobblestones were said to aggravate nervous systems.  Even Benjamin Franklin complained about the “thundering of coaches, chariots, chaises, waggons, drays and the whole fraternity of noise” that assailed the ears of Philadelphians.

The first automobiles to drive west were driven by insurance salesmen and land agents.  When a witness in a small Texas town left the courthouse during an important trial, he was followed by the entire courtroom, including jurors, who wanted to see his automobile.

As with all technology, outlaws were quick to see the advantage of automobiles. They could make a quick get-away and the automobile would keep going long after a horse gave out. This left the local sheriff at a disadvantage. 

Then as now, youths were quick to get on the auto band-wagon and many ceased driving the family wagons entirely. Frontier lawmen suddenly found themselves issuing stern warnings, not to outlaws, but to racing youths.

 The automobile was supposed to make the world a safer, saner, quieter and healthier place. It was also thought to be more economical since feeding a horse wasn’t cheap. That’s something to think about the next time you’re stuck in traffic or filling up your gas tank.  But take heart: the safer, quieter, more economical Robot Car is here.

  www.margaretbrownley.com

Stop by and say hello and you could win a copy of the first book in the Brides of Last Chance Ranch series Dawn Comes Early.

A VOW FULFILLED and great giveaway

3/11    Overcoming With God      MaryLu Tyndall

3/12    Laurie Alice Eakes        Roseanna White

3/13    MaryLu Tyndall             Debbie Lynne Costello

3/14    Patty Smith Hall    Gina Welborn

3/15    Roseanna  White       Carrie Fancett Pagels

3/18    Gina Welborn                 Patty Smith Hall

3/19    Debbie Lynne Costello Laurie Alice Eakes

GREAT GIVEAWAY

The Charleston Chef's Table:Extraordinary recipes of the old south

Choices of the Heart & Wilderness Road:Music of the Back country

Designer Bookmark

Antique Bracelet

Civil War Ebook Novella & Basket from Shirley Plantation

$10 Amazon Gift Card

Quill and Ink

Every time you leave a comment on each of these chapters, your name is entered. The winner will be drawn on ... and will receive all of the above! 

A VOW FULFILLED

 Chapter Seven

“Pistols?” The world tilted and spun around Celia, as though she stood on the deck of a shrimp boat in a hurricane. “No, Papa, you cannot duel with Mr. Cane over something this. . .frivolous as a little kiss.”

“I can, and I shall, if you don’t agree to wed him. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t defend your honor?”

“One who loves me enough to let me choose my own way. And that way isn’t to up and marry a man I scarcely know.” Even as she declared the words, Celia cringed at how childish they sounded. But they, like her vow in front of Mabel and God, hung in the humid air like that snake from the tree—poisonous, potentially deadly.

“I should have loved you enough to not give you your own way. But it’s not too late to make you suffer the consequences of your careless behavior.” Papa’s chin jutted, a familiar sight—

Because its feminine version faced her in the mirror every day.

She cupped her hand over the offending feature, pressing her forefinger to her lower lip to stop it from trembling. “But marriage is for a lifetime.”

“So might the pain be for all those men you hurt.” Turner’s voice, though quiet, rumbled through the clearing like distant thunder. “I love your spirit and your intelligence, and your pretty face, but you playing fast and loose with hearts is going to stop with me.”

“How dare. . .you.” She could scarcely breathe. “You won’t meet Papa if I refuse to wed you.” She turned to Papa. “Mr. Cane won’t meet you.”

“I will to preserve my honor, Miss Sheldon. My family depends on it.”

“Even if your honor gets you killed?” Celia shot him a glare over her shoulder and wished she were a dozen years younger so she could stamp her foot, though a leather slipper meeting marshy ground wouldn’t be particularly satisfying, not like a slam loud enough to make them all jump. “You men are so. . .frustrating with your honor.”

“Maybe if you had more honor,” Papa said, “you wouldn’t have gotten yourself in this fix. Now you’re forcing me to maybe kill this fine young man.”

“I’ll be your second,” William called. “Maybe you’ll get your brains blown out, and my troubles will be over.”

“I think,” Turner interjected, “your troubles are just beginning, Cousin. When our grandsire hears of this, you’ll be finished in Charleston and the family.”

“My Papa’s troubles won’t be,” Celia cried.

“You made the vow.” Mabel’s upper lip curled, then her mouth opened wide with a laugh.

“Laugh all you like.” Celia did some sneering of her own. “But you’re finished in Charleston, too. In fact, you might be in trouble with the law.”

“I won’t be.” Despite her protest, Mabel’s face paled, and she began to back into the trees, dragging William behind her. As she spun on her heel, clearly intending to bolt, she tossed over her shoulder, “You may be rid of William and me, but you’re not rid of God. I warned you not to do it, not to make a vow before God like that. You’ll pay, I’m sure.”

Celia crossed her arms over her middle and glared after Mabel, nearly obscured by trees, and William, still lingering in the shadow of the branches. . “I never meant it, that vow, I mean.”

“Just like you never meant you’d marry any of us you got yourself betrothed to?” William’s tone held a taunt.

“Or that you cared about me enough to kiss me?” Though gentler than William’s voice, Turner’s words stung like a jellyfish.

“I. . . Well, I. . .” Celia’s throat closed. She spun on her heel, picked up her skirt, and ran.

Tripping over vines and careening off of tree trunks, she didn’t stop until she slammed face-first into a low-hanging limb festooned with Spanish moss. She batted the vegetation aside, then leaned her crossed arms on the rough bark of a tree, heedless of insects.

“What have I done?” she wailed into her crossed arms.

If she married Turner, she would surrender her pride and will to others’ wishes, not to mention marrying a man she scarcely knew. But if she didn’t marry him, her Papa might kill him, or he might kill Papa. Either way, she would be responsible for a maiming at best, or death at the worst.

So what if she’d made a vow to Mabel and to God. She hadn’t kept any of her vows to marry the men who had asked her for her hand. Those were just words. They meant nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Or perhaps that was the trouble. She spoke words to people and, worse, to God without meaning them. Her stomach twisted like hemp on the rope walk. If she didn’t mean the vows she spoke, then she must not have meant her decision to repent of her sins and follow Jesus.

That was all too obvious for comfort. She hadn’t repented of anything. She had asked forgiveness, then trotted right back to her old tricks and games.

Something hairy began to crawl on her arm, and she jerked away from the tree in time to meet Turner Cane face-to-face.

She jumped. “What are you doing here?”

“Your papa sent me after you to make sure you’re all right.” He didn’t smile at her, but his eyes held tenderness. “He’s occupied holding that gun of his on Mabel and William until the sheriff gets here and decides if they’ve broken the law.’”

“He should let them go. They can’t harm anyone here now. I’m the one Papa should be upset with.”

“He’s upset enough with you, never fear.” Turner let out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Or maybe you should fear his wrath.”

“Yes.” Celia stared at the muddy hem of her gown. “I’ve connived and cajoled and done everything but treat him with respect my father deserves. Yet he’s willing to fight a duel and risk his life to preserve my honor. For that alone, I should agree to wed you just to save your lives.” She raised her head and made herself meet Turner’s gaze. “But I’m not ready to marry anyone.”

His mouth compressed, and a streak of heat lightning flashed through his eyes. “If you’re not ready to marry anybody, you shouldn’t be going around getting yourself betrothed, let alone kissing—“

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. You see”—she laid one soiled gloved hand on Turner’s sleeve—“I can’t give my heart to any man until I have my heart right with Jesus. I made a vow to follow Him when I was a child, but kept on living my life as I pleased. Now it’s gotten us all into a deadly fix because I went my own way instead of His.” She worried her lower lip, trying to form the next words. “You are the only man to come after me, and back there in the clearing, you were honest with me. No one’s ever done that for me. And I think”—she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks—“I think one day I would like to marry you, even if you don’t inherit.”

“Thank you for that, and I expect I will inherit now that William’s been exposed as a blaggard.”

“It doesn’t matter how much money the man has when I care about him. But first I need to get my heart right with the Lord.”

“And that’s how I’d prefer my wife to be—with her heart right with the Lord.” Turner smiled.

Celia’s insides quivered like strawberry jelly, and she had to look away before she could continue. “If. . .if you’ll wait for me. . .” She tugged and twisted a glove button so hard it popped off. “And I promise it won’t be very long now that I know what I need right first, I-I promise I’ll marry you.”

“Are you making another vow?” His tone was lighter, but still somber. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

She raised her chin, though it quivered rather than set firm, and smiled. “I am making a vow I truly mean this time.”

“Then you make me a happy man.” He kissed her then, gently, tenderly, and Celia knew she would indeed fulfill her vow to marry him.

The End Contributed by Laurie Alice Eakes http://www.lauriealiceeakes.com/