As I wade through my reading list, I wanted to share a great historical. Tumbleweed Letters by Vonnie Davis tells the story of a lonely widower, a woman on the run, and the one of the most adorable toddlers you will ever meet.
Blurb for Tumbleweed Letters:
When rancher and single father Cam McBride finds a letter tucked in a strip of cloth tied to a tumbleweed, he is captivated by the mysterious author. Finding a second tumbleweed letter further pulls him under the lonely writer's spell. He needs a mother for his little boy and a wife to warm his bed. Could this mysterious woman fill his needs?
Sophie Flannigan is alone, scared, and on the run from a rogue Pinkerton agent. She spends her days as a scrub lady at Madame Dora's brothel and her nights writing notes to the four winds. Her life holds little hope until a small boy lays claim to her and his handsome father proposes an advantageous arrangement.
Can these three benefit from a marriage of convenience, or will a determined Pinkerton agent destroy their fragile, newly formed bond?
Fingers touched her arm. “My name is Cam McBride, ma’am. I’ll gladly buy you a new dress or pay for a bolt of calico.” His deep voice raised gooseflesh on her arms.
She could not, would not look at up him. He was so tall and broad shouldered, he was downright intimidating. “That really won’t be necessary, Mr. McBride. Good day.”
“Will you at least accept my apology?”
Sophie nodded and made a beeline for the door. For some reason, she wanted to get away from this man.
“Ma’am?” Footsteps echoed behind her. “Your name?” His hand wrapped around her wrist, feather light, yet firm.
Her stomach fluttered and her mouth went dry.
The child leaned forward in his father’s arms and grabbed her collar. “Mine.”
Saints preserve me, this child will tear apart my clothes yet. “Sophie…Sophie Flannigan.”
“Won’t you look at me when you talk?”
She shook her head and tried to move away.
“Where do you live?” His grasp on her tightened.
Goodness, but his voice was spellbinding. Something about it made her body react in strange ways that disturbed her. “I live where I work. Madam Dora’s brothel.”
His hand fell away, and she hurried out.
Behind her, a child wailed, “Mine. Mine, Daddy…mine.”
Vonnie Davis blog