A Mail-Order Bride’s Hidden Past (Preview)

Chapter One

Maggie Riley stepped off the crowded and stifling New York street and threw back the cloak and hood she had been wearing. Although she knew she had not been followed, it did stop her feeling better when she was off the street. The man she thought was an artist had suddenly become someone who upset her. Maggie was usually ready to tackle whatever came along in life, but she had been frightened. She made herself stop thinking about it. The apartment block was better than most. She spoke to the concierge, who had glanced out as he heard the door. Maggie called out who it was and ran to the first floor.

“Oh, Maggie. I wondered where you were. Did they keep you late at work?” Aileen Riley asked her daughter.

“No, Mom. I need to talk to you, though. Boys, go and play outside for a few minutes. I did bring a cake from the bakery, and you can have some when you come back inside.” She looked at her fifteen-year-old sister. “Can you stay, please, Neave?”

“I am consumed with curiosity now,” Neave replied with a smile.

Maggie pushed to one side the things troubling her and brought happiness to her mother instead.

“Sit down, both of you.” Maggie fished in her pocket and found the notes she had rolled into a wad and fastened with a leather tie. “You know that the people accepted my book and have published it. They paid me and told me that if I can do another one, they will also pay for that.” She paused as her sister and mother both exclaimed how wonderful that was. “I have decided that I can pay myself for a year to write the second book.” 

“Oh, that is a big step to take.” Aileen suddenly saw danger for her daughter. “Will you have enough money to take care of yourself? The job might not be there if you wanted to go back.” 

Maggie held out a hand with a roll of notes. “Here is one hundred dollars, Mom. You can use it any way you want, and I will still give you a dollar a week for my food.” Aileen was speechless and looked at the notes in her hand, but Maggie turned to her sister. “I gave up my job at the factory, and Mr. Germaine says that if you go tomorrow and tell them that you have an appointment with him, he will maybe give you the job if you would like it.”

“Oh, my goodness.” Neave flung herself at her sister. “I would really love to work. Can I, Mom? Can I?”

Maggie laughed and put her arms around the younger girl.

“He is quite a reasonable man, but he expects good manners. Please and thank you, and call him sir,” Maggie added.

“I can do that. Can I, Mom, please?”

Aileen Riley smiled at the enthusiasm.

“Alright. You are old enough now to go to work.” Neave screamed out with delight and threw herself at her mother as she had with Maggie. They all laughed, and Maggie handed out ten dollars to her sister.

“You might want some new clothes as you are a working person now.”

“How much did they pay you for the book, Maggie?” their mother asked quietly.

“I am swearing you both to secrecy,” she answered and laughed as their mouths actually did drop open at the reply. “I had a letter and a money order from them in the mail office. They think that M. Riley is a man and never thought to ask if that were true. They said I could sign copies and help them sell the book. I cannot do that because I am not a man, and I need to sit and start another book. I would sit quietly here, and nobody would find me. Is that alright?”

“It is fine with me, and your dad is away working on the railroad for another few weeks. I will still do my cleaning job, and you can look after the boys when I am not here.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Maggie sat back in the armchair and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a busy day and sometimes alarming. She was safely set to start being a successful author. The frightening part of the day was pushed firmly out of her head. She put the newspaper she had bought to one side.

“Can we come in?” the two young boys called, and their mother said it was fine.

“Cake coming up,” Maggie said, bringing the box with the fancy cake from her shopping basket. Calum and Conway stared with widening eyes as Maggie put the cake on the table. “I had a stroke of good fortune and thought you might like to help me enjoy it.”

The two lads nodded and held out hands for the plates that their mom was passing around.

“What was your good fortune?” Conway asked through the crumbs and the cream.

“I sold one of my stories,” she said.

“You should have asked for a lot of money. Your stories are the best in the world,” Calum added.

“Thank you, Calum,” Maggie said.  

He grinned. “Will you tell us a new one?”

“I might have guessed,” Maggie said. “If Neave helps Mom, we can have a new story before dinner is ready.”

“And keep the rest of this marvelous cake for a dessert,” Aileen added.

“Then I will boil some water to wash my hair,” Neave said as she started to take away the plates. Maggie sat on the sofa, the two boys climbed beside her, and she put an arm around each of them.

“You both know that we all come from a country called Ireland,” she started.

“Because Mom is Irish, and her mom and dad were Irish,” Conway added.

“Her mom and dad came on a boat all the way across the sea,” Calum joined in.

“But Dad isn’t Irish,” Conway pointed out.

“But the Irish still comes down to all of us through Mom, and we all know there is magic in Ireland.”

“Is this story in Ireland?” Calum asked. 

She nodded and lowered her voice to a whisper. “There was a big rabbit warren in a farmer’s field,” she started.

“What is a warren?” Conway queried.

“A big heap of earth where the rabbits keep safe and live. It is full of little tunnels they can escape from if someone blocks the ones they are in.” She took a breath. “This young rabbit called Buster told the others that he had found out he had a magic nose and a magic cottontail as well.”

She went on to say that Buster pointed to the wall of grass at the end of one tunnel.

‘“That wall will open if my magic nose touches it.

‘“You are making that up,” his friend said, but Buster shook his head.

‘“Watch.’ He pushed the wall, and it moved. Buster disappeared through it, and the grassy wall was back in place.

‘“Goodness,” his friend said, and the others looked at the wall with big round eyes.

‘“Can you hear me, Buster?’ his friend shouted. ‘Can you come back in?’

‘“Watch me do it,’ Buster said, and his cottontail appeared through the wall, followed by the rest of him. The group of rabbits gasped.

‘“See,’ Buster said with some satisfaction at how they were impressed. Then they heard a shout from another rabbit further away.” The two human boys looked at their sister, telling the story. “The rest of the rabbits all came running and said that the farmer with a big spade was chopping their warren to little bits.

‘“He will chop us to bits as well. Oh dear,’ Buster’s mom cried out.

‘“Magic will save us,’ Buster told her.

‘“Don’t make things worse by being silly,’ his dad told him, but Buster shook his head. 

‘“Watch,’ he said and pushed the wall with his nose. The wall opened, and Buster held it there until all of the rabbits were outside, and just in time, as they heard the solid slicing sound of a sharp spade digging at where they had all been standing. Then, the rabbits ran in all directions as the farmer flattened what had been their warren. They all met up behind the wall.

‘“You really were magic,’ Buster’s friend said. ‘We are all alive.’ Buster grinned at them.

‘“I just pushed the wall, really.’

‘“But you saved us,’ his mom said, ‘and I happen to know where some lovely carrot tops are going free.’”

“And cake to follow,” Aileen said as she came in with plates of stew and fresh bread.

The boys scrambled for the table. and Neave came in with extra plates.

“You have a talent for storytelling, Maggie,” her mother said as she sat at the table herself and ladled out portions to the family.

“It is the Irish in me coming out. I enjoy telling tales and the expressions on the faces of the folk listening,” Maggie replied and helped herself to vegetables. “I cannot help being interested in magic, folk stories, good and evil and true love. That is what I have to write about.”

“It seems to be working for you,” Neave said. She told them that she would wash her hair to look good the next day at the interview. The boys went outside to play, and Aileen handed her daughter coffee. They sat together, and Maggie talked about her ideas for the next book.

When Aileen had gone to the kitchen, Maggie picked up the newspaper and idly turned the pages. An intriguing piece of writing caught her eye. She read it through several times and then took the newspaper to her bedroom. She had always been interested in paper, pens, and pencils because she always wanted to write.

Selecting a beautiful sheet of paper along with pen and ink, she started to write.

Dear Thomas, I saw your advertisement in the newspaper in New York and wondered if you would like to exchange letters with me. As her writing often did, the letter turned to a flowing description of New York in graphic detail. She told him about her family and her thoughts on starting a second book. My two little brothers are Conway and Callum. My sister is Neave, and she is taking over my job at the weaving mill. I plan to spend some time each day in writing, but sitting in an apartment in New York is perhaps not the best place to think of magic stories. The city is always busy and dark. The tall buildings do not allow a lot of light through the slight fog always around. The soot from multiple chimneys and the manufacturing factories settles on everything. Even the trees have a covering of soot. I wish I could be transported to Montana and see trees growing green and healthy. If you could be happy with the help that I could offer in the store but be able to do some writing each day as well, it may be that we could be a great help to each other and build up a situation that we could both enjoy. My book is called The Irish Connection. 

After reading it, she told him who the publisher was and added that they thought that M. Riley was a man because it was better for a male author to be accepted than a woman. She put it in an envelope, and then called to her mother that she was going to the mail office. She threw her cloak over her shoulders and went out into the business of late afternoon New York.

Chapter Two

Thomas Parker opened the letters that the mailman had dropped onto the counter. He had been surprised that anyone had bothered to reply, but there were three. The first two were from women who wanted a husband with a store, and it was easy to spot that they were willing to promise anything that would get them a man to provide for them. Thomas sighed and almost did not open the third one.

“Dear Thomas,” he read and was intrigued that she wanted to write letters to him and become acquainted. He read it through three times and liked what he saw. In fact, he saw the tall, dark, and oppressive buildings of New York, the naughtiness of two young brothers and a sister desperate to start work. He smiled and sat back in a chair to think about Maggie Riley. When placing the advertisement, he had not expected to get any response, but this letter excited him, which was unusual. Thomas Parker was a level-headed and calm man. Something about this letter and the way she wrote told him that this was someone he could enjoy having around.

Then he put a ‘back soon’ sign on the door and walked to the bookstore. Lucy Beadnell looked up as the door jingled, and Thomas went inside. He saw a warm and colorful shop with interesting items as well as books. He knew Lucy well as they had been at school together.

“Good morning.” Lucy greeted him with a smile. “A bit early for you to rush down and buy a book,” she said.

“I know, and I am asking you to tell nobody what I am here for.”

“Goodness me. Secrets. I love them,” she said. “Can I tell my brother?”

“Tell him that I owe him a drink, and we can meet up soon. Ash must be busy. I haven’t seen him for ages. I put an advertisement in a newspaper to see what response I got, and some of the women just sounded terrible. They wanted a man to give them an easy life.” He laughed. “And then I had this one from Maggie Riley. She is an author.”

“Really?” Lucy was intrigued. He handed over the letter and Lucy read it through. “She sounds like a nice woman.” 

“The book has just been published. Could you possibly find it for me?” She noted down the publisher. 

“I’ll send them a telegram.” She coughed and bit her lip.

“What have you spotted, Lucy?”

“Do you think something is troubling her?”

Lucy read through the letter again and pointed to the part describing the city. 

“She sounds as if there could be something she wants to leave behind her.”

“You could be correct there. I guess if we write enough letters, we can decide if we want to meet in person.” 

Lucy handed him the letter. “I won’t tell anyone, and I’ll find the book.” She laughed. “I might read it before I hand it over.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I will write back to her.” He looked as the door opened, and a customer came inside. “I’ll get back to work. Thanks, Lucy.”

“Handsome man that Thomas,” Mrs. Moloni remarked. “Let me have another of those romances that you lend out.”

“He is a nice man as well as handsome,” Lucy answered as she found books to let the woman choose what she wanted. When she took the lending fee, and Mrs. Moloni left, Lucy closed the door and headed for the telegraph company. It was based at the railroad terminal, and as she used it to order stock, the operator knew where the telegram was going. He tapped away as she told him what to say, paid the fee, and found a newspaper about a week or two old. Her nose twitched with curiosity.

With his long, straight, light-brown hair tied back out of the way, the handsome Thomas Parker opened up the store and apologized to the waiting customers.

The women came inside, and he started to serve them immediately.

“I’m sorry, Bertha,” he told the first one. “I had a letter that needed an answer.”

“I need eggs and butter more than an apology,” she answered. “You never close the store. It must have been important.” He took payment for the eggs and butter, and she said goodbye.

“Mrs. Johnson, how can I help you?”

“Potatoes, carrots, peas, and fruit cake if you have any.”

Thomas chatted to all the customers. He knew all his clients by name, and they all appreciated how he kept a well-stocked grocery store and was always ready with a friendly word.

In the end, he had a busy day, restocked the shelves and counted the takings; he took pen and paper and began a letter to the woman who had been in his thoughts all day.

Dear Maggie, I was delighted to have your letter and enjoyed hearing about your family. I am very happy to correspond with you and see if we would like to meet in person. As I said in the newspaper, I am a man on his own and would love to have someone to talk to. Because you are a writer, I am fascinated to learn more about your book that is already published and what you plan to write about next.

It is wonderful to talk to a woman about something other than cooking and housework. I wonder if you ride a horse or if there is no need for that in New York. I must confess that I have never been there, but I like Montana’s wide open spaces and beautiful landscapes. On the other hand, I have to keep up to date with what other grocery stores are selling to give my customers as good a service as possible. They are a very friendly group of people here, and the place is usually peaceful and quiet.

We do have a very good bookshop, and the owner is very interested in what she does. She runs a lending library so that people can read a lot of books without having to spend a fortune. I am sure she would love to know what is happening on the book front in the city.

He added a few more interesting details about the town and the surrounding areas, read the letter through, and put it ready to send first thing in the morning. 

“It would take about three weeks on the railroad,” he said out loud.  I wonder how long a letter takes.”

As it happened, Maggie thought the same thing, and instead of waiting for a reply, she penned another letter to him as his letter was on its way to her. Two weeks later, he received it. In the meantime, she received his letter and felt that this was somebody she would like to meet. 

Dear Thomas, I hope you do not mind if I write more to you because I realize it would take quite a long time from New York to Montana. I read some details about Montana today, and it appears to be a wonderful open land with rolling plains, superb forests, and magnificent rivers. That sounds terrific and so far removed from the grime and smoke of the city that I can imagine. My imagination is always running wild. I suppose that it is good for storytelling. 

I did not tell you what my published book was about, and I hope you do not think I am just a silly woman who dreams about romance and then writes it down.

She explained that her grandparents’ memories about Ireland had fired her imagination, and she wrote magic into her books whenever she could.

I am enjoying writing these letters. I hope you feel the same. I will write again when your letter arrives. I hope you will write back to me and you can forgive me for annoying you with another letter. Yours with hope for the future, Maggie. 

She sent the letter from the mail office and stepped into the railroad depot to ask what it cost to travel to Montana and how long the journey would take. 

“That would be exciting but a little bit scary if I was traveling alone,” she said to the man in the ticket office.

“We have good and safe hotels at every stop, and there is food and drink to be bought all along the journey. There is always someone to talk to and sometimes a friendship strikes up that remains after the traveling is over. I am sure you would be happy and looked after.” She found out what times the trains left and where she would have to change to another line on the way.

“Thank you,” she told him and wandered slowly out of the depot with thoughts of traveling to Montana occupying her mind. Then she heard a voice she recognized that immediately brought her back to the present day. She slipped behind a wagon loaded with boxes. She stood still as her heart pounded away and she wondered if the man had seen her. If he had, she knew that he would come straight over and grab her by the arm because he had done that before.

Maggie was not a shrinking violet, and she had always faced her fears in the past . This man had shown a side of himself that she had not seen in any person before. He had changed in an instant to completely different from the man who had tried to be friendly with her.  He had shaken her normally positive outlook on life. She finally looked around the wagon and saw nobody she recognized out there. Her heart came back to a normal beat and she stepped out for home cautiously, but there was nothing to fear. Back in the house, she sat on her bed and thought about what she really wanted to do. She made a decision and found pen and paper once again.

Dear Thomas, Forgive me for another letter, but I have decided to make a new life. I will travel to Montana and meet you. If we do not get along, I am happy to find somewhere to live and do my writing. I will leave tomorrow and be with you in Whispering Pines in three weeks.  Hopefully, Maggie.

I will send you a telegram before I leave or maybe this letter will arrive at the same time as myself.

She had to plan how to leave without her mother trying to keep her at home, so she wrote yet another letter to her mom explaining why she had to leave. Maggie decided to be honest with her mom, but she only told her that she had met a man at an art gallery and then found out that he was rather nasty. She knew that was something that would upset her mom and said that she would keep in touch. She added some more money and then planned what bags she would take. The next morning, she knew that her mother would go out to work. Neave was enjoying working, and the boys would be in school.

“I will pack then and leave straightaway,” she said out loud. She gathered her pens, pencils, and papers so important to her and put them in a large bag she could carry in the carriage. She added the money she would need and the paperwork from the bank to ask to have the rest of her money transferred. Then, she tried to be as normal as possible with the family and cleared away after dinner for her mother.

Breakfast was served, and her mother and sister left for work. The boys ran off to school with their lunch pails, and Maggie packed her bags, left the letter on the table, and carried her bags to the depot. The telegraph office was at the railroad depot, and she dropped the bags and sent a telegram to Thomas Parker, grocery store, Whispering Pines, Montana.

Leaving today. Will explain when I get there. Maggie.

Then she bought the ticket, climbed on board, and settled on a seat with her heart racing like crazy. She kept glancing out to the yard to ensure no danger. When the whistle blew, and the train slowly huffed and puffed its way out of the depot, Maggie sat back in the seat and breathed with a sense of relief. She had previously traveled short distances on the railroad and was unfamiliar with how the system worked. It was the longest journey she had ever taken, and she sat and wondered if she was wise to take such a big step. It was scary, but she knew that writing was what she needed to do, and she also needed company and a life away from the city. The fresh air and wide open spaces were a real attraction.

I have to try it. Living in an apartment in the city all my life is unattractive.

Chapter Three

It was a huge step for anyone to take, and Maggie knew that she had to be brave and think about the good things that had happened and could happen again. She looked around the carriage and saw that there were quite a lot of people traveling alongside her. They were very well-dressed for the main part, and she was glad she had dressed properly. The lady across from her also seemed to be traveling alone, and she smiled back as she caught Maggie’s eye.

“Exciting,” Maggie said.

“I feel better now that I am in the carriage,” the lady said. “The noise and steam are really frightening when you are outside, and the engine is so enormous.”

That made Maggie laugh, but she agreed with the woman who said she was Katherine Sykes.

“I am Maggie,” she replied, and they looked out the windows as the train gathered speed and the views outside changed eventually from buildings to more open countryside. Gradually, Maggie felt more relaxed and started to enjoy the journey. There was more general conversation with Katherine, who had traveled quite a lot before, and explained how they would buy food when the engine stopped at the depots on the way.

“Did you book a sleeper?” Katherine asked.

“I did because the ticket office man said it would be sensible. I am going to Montana and thought it was a long time to sit on a seat.” Katherine laughed and agreed.

“I am going to Ohio, which will be about halfway to where you are going. I have two businesses, and I have to keep going between Ohio and New York several times a year.”

“I am a writer,” Maggie confessed and realized that it was the first time she had told anyone what she was about to embark on her career.

“What sort of stories?” Katherine asked, and Maggie slipped into her favorite subject. After a while, her new companion asked if she had the book with her. “I would like to read some of it if you would allow me to.”

Maggie fished in her enormous carpet bag and handed over the book.

“I cannot give it to you as it is the only one that I have at the moment.”

“I will order some for my store when I reach Ohio. I have a department store there, and there is a book section.”

“Oh, thank you,” Maggie said. “I will let you read in peace, and you can tell me what you think. I don’t mind if you tell me anything that you do not like.” Katherine smiled and settled in her seat to start to read. Maggie took out paper and pencil and described the railroad, the depot, the noisy engine, and the comfortable carriage. She added the part about lots of people being slightly overawed by the size and noise of the giant machine that was hauling them across the width of America. She looked out the window and took notes about the scenery before feeling the train slow down for its first stop.

Maggie saw that there were food sellers on the platform and went with Katherine to find something to eat. She settled into the routine of the long journey, and the ticket conductor told her that they would stop overnight twice if she wanted to enjoy a night in a proper bed.

“And a bath,” Katherine added with a laugh. “At least when we reach Ohio, I will have a bed of my own to sleep in.” She fished in her folder that she carried and handed a photograph of the store that she owned.

“That is wonderful. How clever you are to make something as grand as that grow and be successful.” The picture showed a storefront painted in black and white with the staff standing at the front door. The men had black suits and the women black dresses with white, frilly aprons over the top of them. Over the doorway, the sign said K. Sykes.

“I had help from my grandmother to begin with,” Katherine told her. “You have to use what you have in this world,” she paused, “and you have an enormous talent, Maggie. You have to use it.”

“I will do my best,” Maggie said and handed back the photograph. 

“I will write to the mail office at Whispering Pines and tell you if I manage to buy the books.”

The journey continued, and Maggie’s notes reflected the changes in the view outside the windows. The territory was not as busy as New York but the city where Katherine was to stop had a lot of buildings and bustling streets. Maggie decided to stay in the hotel and have a bath. The two women embraced and vowed to meet up again at some point. Katherine took a carriage, and Maggie booked into the hotel.

The morning journey was much more lonely without her traveling companion, and she took copious notes of the countryside to keep herself occupied. The land they traveled through had a variety of scenery and ranged from lakes and rivers to areas covered in trees, hills, and mountains. There were occasional small townships where the train did not have a depot and some farms and isolated wooden homesteads. 

After she had been traveling for more than two weeks, she realized that the scenes were changing. Montana had spreading vistas of grassland that stretched away into the distance without the farms and homesteads. The nearer hills were tree-covered, but the huge and rocky mountains in the distance had snow on some of their peaks.

“It is a huge landscape,” Maggie said to the conductor as he came through to see if all was well.

“There are riders out there,” the man said, looking over her shoulder. “They are cowboys. We have to be careful in case a gang of robbers tries to climb on board.”

“Oh no. That sounds terrifying,” Maggie said. “I never knew that.”

“We carry a good number of armed guards nowadays,” the man reassured her. “I will go and tell them there are riders out there.” He hurried away, and Maggie peered out the window. The men were heading away from the railroad, and she rapidly noted down how they were dressed and what the horses were like on which they were riding. She re-read what she had written down and saw that she had made so many notes on the journey that it was almost a book.

There is an idea for a love story set on a long journey. She smiled at the thought and remembered what Katherine had said about using your talent. Four days later, she had even more notes and found out that the last stop before Whispering Pines was an overnight stay, and there was a hotel.

She booked in, washed her hair, brushed it out, and selected something good to wear the next day to arrive looking as good as possible after three weeks on the railroad.

The conductor called that they were approaching Whispering Pines and passed down her luggage from the rack overhead. Maggie checked that she had everything, and the train chugged to a halt in a depot much smaller than New York or the one in Ohio, but it was busy with lots of people running to service the engine and unload the stock-carrying coaches.

She learned a lot in three weeks about how these depots worked and found a porter with a trolley to move her baggage. She was almost at the doorway when she saw a man scanning the crowd. He was tall and slimly built, with straight hair tied back out of the way. The man was not dressed for traveling.  She wondered who he was looking for when he ran across and held out a hand.

“Thomas Parker,” he exclaimed. Maggie smiled and shook the hand.

“Maggie Riley.”

“Leave the bags,” he said to the porter, giving him a large tip. “I have the small wagon from the shop. Let me take the bags.” They went out through the entrance arch, and he put the bags in the wagon. “Let me help you onto the driving seat.”

He lifted her, and she knew instantly that this was a man that she could trust. Maggie had always trusted her instincts in the past, and she had been shaken by the meeting with the man in New York where her instinct had been so wrong. It was good to feel that this was a good man, and he ran around to the other side of the wagon and climbed on board.

“Welcome to Whispering Pines.” She saw a small town with mostly wooden buildings. Some of them were painted and others made of logs. There were one or two stone buildings, and the main street was busy. Then she noticed that almost every person they passed waved to Thomas, and he waved back.

“You are well known,” she observed.

“Most folk know who you are when you have the grocery store. I’m very glad to see you and that you have come earlier than you first suggested.”

“New York was not ideal anymore,” she said, “and I wanted to be in a more peaceful place for my writing. I can stay in the hotel as we get to know each other. I have money to pay for the hotel.” She wondered if she should tell him about the scare she had felt in New York but decided to leave it until they were better acquainted.

“I am happy for you to stay with me if you don’t mind staying with a single man. I have a good spare room, and you can also use it for your writing.” He turned his head, and she smiled. For the first time she took in that he was a really good-looking man. She knew from the advertisement that he was twenty-eight.

She knew he had a grocery store and wrote a good letter. The little jump that her heart made inside her chest was not something that she had expected.

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“A Mail-Order Bride’s Hidden Past” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Drawn by the promise of a new beginning, Maggie Riley, a spirited Irish immigrant with a gift for storytelling, seeks refuge from the shadows of her past by becoming a mail-order bride in the picturesque town of Whispering Pines. There, she will find unexpected love in Thomas, a charming gentleman who seems to be everything she has ever dreamed of. Yet soon enough, mysterious letters will threaten to expose a dark secret from Maggie’s past, putting her newfound happiness in jeopardy…

Can this thrilling adventure end in a happily ever after?

Thomas Parker, the enigmatic storekeeper with the rugged charm and unwavering kindness, becomes not just a beacon of hope, but a steadfast companion on Maggie’s journey of self-discovery. However, as the threat from Maggie’s past intensifies casting a shadow over their budding romance, Thomas must muster all his strength to protect their shared dreams and confront the forces that threaten to tear them apart…

Will he be able to protect the woman he has come to adore?

As whispers from the past threaten to shatter their blooming relationship, their love is put to the ultimate test. With the support of their friends in Whispering Pines, standing united against the forces of evil, they discover that love is not just a fairytale ending, but a powerful force capable of overcoming even the darkest of secrets. Will their love story unfold like the pages of a cherished novel, or will the shadows of the past extinguish the flame of hope forever?

“A Mail-Order Bride’s Hidden Past” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!