I definitely enjoy Sunday morning. I get a very early start, do a bit of writing, check in with friends online, and make the rounds of my fellow “Sneak Peek Sunday” authors’ blogs. Although I read and write in the historical vein, it’s always fun to read quick little excerpts from different genres.
Once I’ve completed my rounds and shared a few thoughts on what I’ve read, it’s time to log-off and spend time with my family. Sunday is a day to rest, to renew, to recharge.
I hope you’re enjoying each “Sneak Peek Sunday” as much as I am.
Today, I’m sharing the opening paragraphs of The Wrong Woman. This story will always have a special place in my heart. The Wrong Woman was my first published historical romance and Sweet Cravings Publishing re-released it last fall. It’s found a place on the publisher’s “best-seller” list in the Western Romance category.
“I still say it isn’t proper for a young woman to travel alone.” The dour-faced woman folded her white-gloved hands and glanced toward her traveling companion, an equally dour-faced woman bearing a strong familial resemblance. “Why, even at our age, my sister and I would never consider such a thing.”
“Indeed,” chimed in the sister with a curt nod of her graying head. “Traveling is a risky venture. You don’t want to find yourself at the mercy of strangers.”
One sister or the other had uttered those same dire pronouncements every few miles since Abigail Rose had boarded the train in Kansas City. Although tired of hearing their disapproval, she managed a polite smile.
“I understand your concern, but under the circumstances…” She stopped, annoyed by the steel-rimmed spectacles that kept slipping down her nose. After jabbing them back into place with a forefinger, she let out a weary sigh and turned away from the two older women. Nothing she said would placate the pair. Already she had explained—more than once—that the job offer in Minnesota had come so suddenly there had been no time to worry about proprieties. She had explained, too, how very much this teaching position meant to her, and she’d assured them she was quite capable of taking care of herself. Surely no harm would befall her in the short time it took to travel by train from Kansas City to St. Paul.
What she said was mostly true.
What she didn’t tell them, of course, was that she was not the virtuous young woman she appeared to be. Abigail had no qualms about traveling alone. What could possibly happen that would be more scandalous than what had already happened to her?
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