Words From A Gardener

Gardening is cheaper than therapy and you get tomatoes. ~Author Unknown

Spring arrived in the Shenandoah Valley with balmy mildness in mid March and carried into early April. Glory days. Roses and other beloved perennials responded to the unseasonable warmth by leafing out--too soon. Raw wind blasted the vulnerable plants as I battled to cover them with blankets. Tender leaves suffered from hard frost. Sigh. On the brighter side, early vegetables escaped and the roses, delphinium, foxglove...are growing out.

Image of the hills and mountains behind our farm taken from the kitchen window on April 27th.



Virginia is headed into the third month of the quarantine, so heaven knows I've had ample time for garden projects. I've expanded my memorial garden and enclosed the addition with a low stone wall and wiggly Piggly fence, laboring over them for days. The whimsical fence is made from lengths of wood, including the special sticks Dad had saved to carve into canes, far more than he completed. I incorporated a few he'd worked on.

Other wood I gleaned from our farm, my folk's place, and daughter Alison's field above the creek, plus I repurposed objects and old metal. Everything is carefully chosen. Dad would heartily approve as he believed in recycling and making things yourself from materials at hand. I've also gathered worms and composted manure from the farm and added wheel barrow loads to my garden and beds.



(Wiggly Piggly garden fence with water feature made from an old metal tub. I added the solar fountain. Bunny statue below by my stone wall. Only the bunny wasn't repurposed, and is from Wayfair.com  And yes, I own stock in the company. :)



Garden savvy folk probably know this, but seeds from online catalogues are selling out like mad. I'm a seed addict and have a large box filled with packs. Even so, I need to restock a few varieties and was challenged this morning in my efforts. Like many others, it seems, I'm choosing heirloom kinds that produce savable seed. These are especially sought after. I'm also avoiding local nurseries this year and starting many vegetables, herbs, and flowers on my sunspace.  So far, they're sprouting well.

Image below of my spinach patch we've harvested from for weeks. I sowed the seed last fall and covered the patch over the winter, added compost when I uncovered it. 

The spinach has thrived, as has the asparagus pictured below. It's been here decades. And seedlings on the sunporch below that.





In these uncertain times, people are putting in gardens more than ever. If you have any interest, best hop to it and get your seeds while there are any left. The garden world, like many others, has run mad. Seed and plant companies are sending out emails saying they've never seen anything like the deluge they've come under. Some have had to shut down, others are sold out and or experiencing shipping delays. Oddly enough, you're more likely to find a rose bush for sale online than beet seeds. 

Who the heck knew this was coming?
Not me.

The last of my tulips. These beauties are in a sheltered spot and have bloomed for weeks. My new favorites.



Onward ho and good luck with all your gardening endeavors. I'm in hustle mode before the heat settles in, planting and mulching like crazy.

Oh, and baby chicks are sold out. Backyard chickens have taken off.  I'm toying with getting an incubator and eggs, or ducklings...

Old Homes and the First Thanksgiving

As many of you know, I'm mad about old homes and often feature them in my books. My latest time travel romance series, Ladies in Time, is all about cool old homes. Maybe living in antiquated houses most of my life has influenced me. The farm house my husband and I live in now was built just after the Civil War, probably because its predecessor was burned, but that's another story. History fascinates me, and Colonial America has a powerful draw. Virginia is great state to immerse myself in that era, among others. The Civil War...

(Berkeley)

Years ago, while doing research for Traitor's Legacy, the sequel to colonial American historical romance novel Enemy of the King, the idea came to me for ghostly time travel romance, Somewhere My Love. In addition to touring colonial Williamsburg, mom and I visited some of the lovely James River Plantations. Two of these stately homes, Berkeley and Shirley, inspired the house in Somewhere My Love, Foxleigh. Berkeley, originally called Berkeley Hundred and named after one of its founders, has a wealth of history behind it. As we toured the grounds, a strong sense of the past flowed over me, carrying me back.

The magnificent terraced boxwood gardens and lawn extend a quarter-mile from the front door to the James River. The mansion itself wasn’t built until 1726, but the plantation’s history reaches much farther back into America‘s roots. I didn’t realize this, but Berkeley was the actual site of the first Thanksgiving in America on Dec. 4, 1619.

 (Breadseed Poppy-- seed from Monticello)

 (Williamsburg)

 (Foxglove--historic herb/flower)

On December 4,1619, 38 English settlers arrived at Berkeley Hundred about 8,000 acres on the north bank of the James River near Herring Creek in an area then known as Charles Cittie. It was about 20 miles upstream from Jamestown, where the first permanent settlement of the Colony of Virginia was established on May 14, 1607. The group’s charter required that the day of arrival be observed yearly as a day of thanksgiving to God. On that first day, Captain John Woodleaf held the service of thanksgiving.

In 1622, nine of the settlers at Berkeley Hundred were killed in a Native American uprising, as well as a third of the entire population of the Virginia Colony. The Berkeley Hundred site and other outlying locations were abandoned as the colonists withdrew to Jamestown and other more secure points. After several years, the site became Berkeley Plantation and was long the traditional home of the Harrison family, one of the First Families of Virginia. 

(Reenactors)

Benjamin Harrison, son of the builder of Berkeley and the plantation’s second owner, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence and three-time Governor of Virginia. William Henry Harrison, Benjamin‘s third son, born at Berkeley, nicknamed Tippecanoe for his fame as an Indian fighter, later became the ninth President of the United States, in 1841. His grandson, Benjamin Harrison, was the 23rd President.

Many famous founding fathers and mothers were guests at this gracious estate. For more on Berkeley Plantation and a fascinating glimpse into early America visit: http://www.berkeleyplantation.com/ 

And: http://www.jamesriverplantations.org/Berkeley.html

 If you have the opportunity to visit in person, by all means go.

(Chipmunk on pumpkin by my mother)

For more on my work please visit my Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Beth-Trissel/e/B002BLLAJ6/

The Story Behind Time Travel Romance Secret Lady (Ladies in Time)

I've experienced unique inspiration for the story behind many of my stories and Secret Lady is no exception. Overall, the book is based on events that occurred to my ancestors and my husband’s Mennonite forebears during the Civil War in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. 

Historical accounts from the Civil War are a huge part of the inspiration behind Secret Lady. I grew up hearing about the war and its enormous impact on the family, and knew it would inevitably become the focus of a story or two, but the initial challenge to write this story didn’t come from the war.

My eldest daughter, Alison, told me of the uncanny connection she and her friend, Cristin, have with the creepy closet in our house. It is, in fact, the only closet. Old homes were built without them, and it’s a slightly more modern addition. Throughout her childhood, Alison was terrified of this walk-in, but duck your head space, particularly unfortunate as it occupied the far-right corner of her bedroom. The extra creepy factor is the entry to hidden parts of the house lies at the back corner of the closet. Alison learned that Cristin, as a child, had recurring dreams (nightmares) about a closet in an old boxy white farmhouse that strongly resembled ours. In her dreams, Cristin ventured up the stairs, walked to the end of the hall, and entered the last bedroom. She feared a black antique trunk (check—we have one from my great-grandfather) in the closet at the far right of the room where a disturbing presence dwelled. It wasn't a huge leap to conceive a heroine with similar fears. And I've always been fascinated by time travel so knew that is what this story would be.

Story Blurb:

At Lavender House, Evie McIntyre is haunted by the whispers from her bedroom closet. Before she can make sense of their murmurs, the house "warbles" between times and transports her to the Civil War. Past and present have blended, and Evie wishes she'd paid more attention to history. Especially since former Confederate officer, Jack Ramsey, could use a heads up.

Torn between opposing forces, Jack struggles to defend the valley and people he loves. Meeting Evie turns his already tumultuous world upside down. Will solving the mystery of the whispers return her home, and will the handsome scout be by her side?

Against the background of Sheridan's Burning of the Shenandoah Valley, Jack and Evie fight to save their friends and themselves – or is history carved in stone?

Excerpt:

She took a steadying breath, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the room. The fragrance of lavender greeted her. Grandma G. had tucked sachets under her mattress to help her sleep and left small cloth bags in the drawers of an antique dresser. A sachet of apricot scented agrimony lay beneath her pillow.

This age-old herb was thought to induce slumber and offer protection against the dark forces. Other powerful herbs scented the room. Angelica, St. John’s Wort, and sage were in the bunch on the bedside stand beside the antique brass lamp with an ornamental white shade.

The walk-in, but duck your head, closet at the far side of the room summoned her. Boxes of Christmas decorations, a Santa, and reindeer figures stored inside the slanted nook partially hid the steps leading to the attic and the presence she swore was there. She hadn’t encountered the being in question. Yet. It wasn’t cool for a nineteen-year-old to harbor terrors of a closet, but she did.

She threw her hands up after a particularly loud summons. “What do you want from me?”

There was a rap on the downstairs door. ~

Secret Lady, published by The Wild Rose Press, is in print and kindle at Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Secret-Lady-Ladies-Time-Book-ebook/dp/B07KNL7K3Z

In Nook Book: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/secret-lady-beth-trissel/1129945225?ean=2940161956564

Available from all major online booksellers.

Secret Lady won February 2019 Book of the Month at Long and Short Reviews 

"It is at the edge of a petal that love waits." ~William Carlos Williams

The rose is a flower of love...all kinds of love. Roses symbolize friendship, passion, and remembrance. I've planted about twenty this spring. I lost count. These are for remembrance. Roses are the queen of flowers.

For a hushed moment after sunrise the sun touched the garden and everything was new and perfect. Then the sun rose higher and I saw the Japanese beetles. They also love roses. Despite  my annual battle with these noxious pests, my garden is a little bit of Eden. I tripled my efforts outdoors this year after my dear father's passing. The Memorial Garden reminds me of a painting as it unfolds. Gardening is a living form of art.

Neglected corners remain in the yard, but gardening is an ongoing journey. I'm eyeing the long border along the road with ideas for improvements I might make late summer or fall. Efforts there must be undertaken with caution because of the road monster.

(Breadseed Poppy--seed originally from Monticello)

Did any of you see Finding Neverland years ago, starring a young Johnny Depp as Author J. M. Barrie? Excellent film, made before Depp went off the rails. Near the end of the movie, Kate Winslet, who portrays the mother of the boy who inspired Barrie to write Peter Pan, enters  the wondrous Neverland set Barrie has created. (Peter Pan began as a play in 1904.) At times, when I go into the garden, surrounded by magical beauty, it reminds me a bit of that scene.

There's nothing quite like a near perfect day in the garden. I say 'near' because perfection is elusive and my idea of a magical garden excursion may not be yours. But when the cerulean sky reaches to heaven, flowers sparkle like jewels, and leafy green enfolds me, I am uplifted. In that moment, I am happy.

All winter and spring I dreamed of delphinium spires. This is 'Million Dollar Blue,' an improved kind from Wayside Gardens, more heat and cold tolerant.

On blue sky days, the ridges rise clearly beyond the wooded hills. Country noises fill air pungent with farm smells sweetened by herbs and flowers. Meadow larks trill from tall grass, bees hum, and butterflies flit. I chase them with my camera.

When a new birds calls, we must know what kind it is--recently an oriole. Red Winged black birds have a distinct cry. They mostly stay at the pond but sometimes visit our back garden. Goose squawks resound except during afternoon siestas beneath the pear trees. Never mind, I spoke too soon. Our two buddy brother roosters peck around and crow, a lot. A typical country sound.

We still hear cows. Young ones will remain until they're old enough to go, but we had to sell our dairy herd--sad sigh. We're remaining on the farm, thank the good Lord. Son Cory will raise beef cows while Hubby Dennis runs his farm machinery business. As for me, I will garden, cherish my friends and family, and write again. Not much to report on that front, but I'm beginning to miss writing, an inherent part of who I am. Or was. I know Dad wouldn't want me to give it up. His death, on top of my brother Chad's, threw me more than I can say, but I'm slowly mending, largely with the help of garden therapy. I've come to realize missing them will ever be woven into the fabric of my life.

This country scene may not strike some as idyllic, but it's heaven on earth to me.

Hollyhocks set off our barn in this pic. I used to call it 'the old red barn' until Cory redid it in white. A decorative barn quilt adds color to the front.

(Bathsheba climbing rose from David Austin)

"I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in." ~John Muir

"I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright." ~Henry David Thoreau

(Red Admiral Butterfly on mini buddleia from Jackson and Perkins)

The fuzzy bumble bee (pictured below on larkspur) reminds me of a tiny teddy bear. The heirloom larkspur has been here longer than I have. The flowers come in blue,white, pink, and purple. A hardy annual, it reseeds for the next spring.

All images were taken this month by me.

"Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life." ~Rachel Carson

"I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes." ~ e.e. cummings

Fascinating Story Behind Civil War Time Travel Romance Secret Lady (Ladies in Time)

Many stories lie at the heart of my upcoming January 9th release, time travel romance Secret Lady (Book 3 Ladies in Time) from The Wild Rose Press. The characters in this mystery/adventure aren't related to the first two releases in the series as I began a new thread. While strongly historical, Secret Lady has enough paranormal in it to categorize the story as fantasy.

The setting for Secret Lady is as close to home as I can get, our old farm-house (with a slight upgrade) in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I transformed our lush dairy farm into ‘Lavender and Lace Herb Farm’ and relocated it several miles up the road on the farm we once rented. During the Civil War, horses were hidden in the Alpine like woods beyond the house.

(Our house with the wild midsummer garden by Elise)

(Behind our farm by hubby Dennis)

(Our pond by Dennis)

I gleaned inspiration for the story from events that occurred to my ancestors and my husband’s family, and their peers during the Civil War. My great-great-grandfather fought at Gettysburg and was captured at Pickett’s Charge, but the focus of this story is our richly historic valley. I grew up hearing about The Burning (autumn 1864) when Major General Philip Sheridan brought hard war to our green valley, called The Bread Basket of the Confederacy. In Sheridan’s ruthless destruction of farms, livestock, and supplies that might sustain Rebel troops, he unleashed Hell on countless innocents. Among the greatest sufferers in Rockingham County were the peaceful Mennonites, my husband’s ancestors among them. These plain, hardworking people are my adopted people and a vital part of the book.

(Old-Order Mennonite Buggy Passing our farm. Image by Dennis)

Our farm stands where the worst of The Burning took place, and it occurred to me that our Victorian house might have been built soon after the Civil War because its predecessor was destroyed. We knew our home dated at least to the mid 1870’s from an elderly woman who visited here decades ago and said she was born in the house. We dated our home even earlier after finding it on an 1866 map, plus our bank barn has original features that pin it to that era.

(

Our old barn. Image by Beth. It used to be red.)

This past spring, in what was my last conversation with my father-in-law before his death, I asked him if he knew of a farm that once stood on our land that might have been destroyed during The Burning. His adamant ‘yes!’ surprised my husband who wasn’t aware of its existence. However, hubby never asked.

Dad Trissel told us he used to walk back the long lane that leads behind our farm up to the wooded hills beyond and there he saw the remains of a burned-out farm (woods have since overgrown the site). He also told us our farm used to encompass that land which was later parceled off. We decided to walk back to the woods and search for any remnants from the past. Fortunately, we chose April for our exploration as the only trace of earlier dwellers our untrained eyes could detect were the faithful daffodils outlining what must once have been a house, barn, and outbuildings.

(Daffodil discovery in dry early spring before rains came with me and granddaughter Emma.)

 

If we had chosen any other season for our walk, we wouldn’t have noted anything. We later learned foundation stones and usable timber were reused in rebuilding homes and barns after The Burning. Scavengers must have been at work, and nature has taken a toll over the years. I’m not sure what my father-in-law saw in the nineteen forties, but more than we did. The daffodils are an heirloom variety that used to grow in my garden, likely from those same bulbs. Not appreciating their historic value, I replaced them with more attractive varieties and must restore these blooms to a spot in the yard.

More research is needed to determine whether the farm behind us was, indeed, burned during Sheridan’s infamous valley campaign and whether that family built our present house or fled, and another took their place in the building. We learned the road that runs in front of our house used to cut through the meadow, which would account for a farm being located back there. The stream ran beside it those days, and springs also provided water. It could be as Dad Trissel said.

A strong sense of history hangs over the woods, our farm, and our fair valley called Shenandoah, ‘Daughter of the Stars.’  Fiery war once raged here, but we survived and rebuilt. Of course, we did, we’re Virginians.

(

(The valley much as it would have looked then. Image by daughter Elise)

Secret Lady Story Blurb:

Torn apart by time, reunited by flames.

At Lavender House, Evie McIntyre is haunted by the whispers from her bedroom closet. Before she can make sense of their murmurs, the house "warbles" between times and transports her to the Civil War. Past and present have blended, and Evie wishes she'd paid more attention to history. Especially since former Confederate officer, Jack Ramsey, could use a heads up.

Torn between opposing forces, Jack struggles to defend the valley and people he loves. Meeting Evie turns his already tumultuous world upside down. Will solving the mystery of the whispers return her home, and will the handsome scout be by her side?
Against the background of Sheridan's Burning of the Shenandoah Valley, Jack and Evie fight to save their friends and themselves – or is history carved in stone?

Excerpt:

She took a steadying breath, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the room. The fragrance of lavender greeted her. Grandma G. had tucked sachets under her mattress to help her sleep and left small cloth bags in the drawers of an antique dresser. A sachet of apricot scented agrimony lay beneath her pillow.

This age-old herb was thought to induce slumber and offer protection against the dark forces. Other powerful herbs scented the room. Angelica, St. John’s Wort, and sage were in the bunch on the bedside stand beside the antique brass lamp with an ornamental white shade.

The walk-in, but duck your head, closet at the far side of the room summoned her. Boxes of Christmas decorations, a Santa, and reindeer figures stored inside the slanted nook partially hid the steps leading to the attic and the presence she swore was there. She hadn’t encountered the being in question. Yet. It wasn’t cool for a nineteen-year-old to harbor terrors of a closet, but she did.

She threw her hands up after a particularly loud summons. “What do you want from me?”
There was a rap on the downstairs door. ~

Secret Lady will be out in kindle and print at Amazon and in eBook from all major online booksellers. The novel is available in pre-order at Amazon: 
https://www.amazon.com/Secret-Lady-Ladies-Time-Book-ebook/dp/B07KNL7K3Z/

Follow this blog and my Amazon Author Page.  https://www.amazon.com/Beth-Trissel/e/B002BLLAJ6

Follow me on BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/beth-trissel

***If you are interested in reviewing please contact me: bctrissel@yahoo. com

(

(Old barn behind our farm.  Torn down now, sadly.)

Back Home, Blurry-Eyed and Bumm-Numb by Vonnie Davis

Evie, my nine-month-old Shih-Tzu--also known as "Buick Grill" (note smile)--and I putted into the driveway around 3:00 yesterday afternoon. It had taken us 18 hours to drive from northern Indiana to southern Virginia. A two-day jaunt. Getting there took us 21 hours. My daughter Amy kept calling. "Where are you now, Mom?"

I may have made a few wrong turns here and there!

Yes, I do have a GPS. Two old ones, in fact....LOST in my garage. My grandson downloaded WAZE to my cellphone. But I still managed to zig when I should have zagged. 

Seeing the family is always great, isn't it? Hugs and kisses amid laughter.  My two little great-grandsons, Benjamin and Zander have grown so much. And just how I could have "greats" when I'm barely 39 is a mystery to me.

If I hadn't driven enough, I drove across the state to meet up  with two other authors for an afternoon of writing talk and laughter.

Sunday brought my son-in-law a surprise. I had tickets for Bart, Amy, and me to attend a Colts game. Thank goodness they won.

During the 44 hours of driving this past week, I did a lot of plotting for another series. This may explain my getting lost so many times. How many of you plot or mentally write a chapter when you drive...or shower...or go to the movies? Odd how our minds work, isn't it?

And I'm home. My bed is waiting for me. Evie is already there. When you travel, do you feel like you need a vacation after you get home? Boy-oh-boy, I will definitely sleep in tomorrow. Until next time, take care and stay healthy. Hugs.

~~~~~

Vonnie Davis writes sizzling romance with a twist. Visit her at www.vonniedavis.com.

http://vonniedavis.com

When The Muse is Fickle--Or I Am

Confession time. I hear it's good for the soul. OK, so I've been in a bit of a writing funk for the past several months, ever since I finished the third book in my Ladies in Time Series. I submitted that hard-fought story to my Wild Rose Press editor--more on Secret Lady later-- and the writer's funk/block, ensued. Deep down, I don't want to let the story go. But I have to move on. I can't hang out in the Civil War indefinitely, nor do I want to, though it's got a hold on me...

(Beth at the old family homeplace in the Shenandoah Valley, circa 1819--the  house, not me.)

Unlike those authors I envy who wrap themselves in an era and never depart  from it, I wander through time like a restless spirit. My ADD (attention deficit) may feature in this. The only parameters for my Ladies in Time Series is that the titles feature a strong young woman, just out of high school or college age, who travels back in time, so far in Virginia. I'm expanding this to allow her to travel forward or meet the hero who goes backward. Romance, mystery, history, adventure, and the paranormal are key elements. There may or may not be a connection character wise with previous titles, and I can send her--or him--wherever I like. Choosing is a challenge. 

To justify my delay in writing, I insist I'm doing research, and I am. Heaps. You have to, if you're gonna bounce around in time like I do. First, I decided to set my next story in the eighteen nineties and immersed myself in that era, finding it necessary to watch a lot of documentaries. My reading included half a dozen journals penned by country doctors who practiced in the late nineteenth/early twentieth century, because I want to feature a country doctor, of course. I picked up some interesting medical info in the process. Shocking what they used back then to treat people. Amazing anyone survived the cures. But I didn't stop there. Heck no. 

I've also read up on Victorian ghosts. Just because. Also, one of the medical journals had a fascinating paranormal account. It inspired me, and I can always use more of that. Then I decided to set the story farther into the twentieth century. That way, my doctor can access electricity for the time machine he's building. I hadn't anticipated that, and this endeavor doesn't leave him many free hours for practicing medicine, but, oh well. I concluded he needs a power source, and am contemplating how to construct such a machine. Tough to do. Apparently, they're not real, though I came across a scientist hard at work on one. He maintains his invention can only go forward in time--theoretically. Who wants to go there, dude? Us history folk are fascinated with the past. Stay with the program.

After exhaustive research--did you know the concept of time travel was unknown until H. G. Wells wrote The Time Machine, published in 1895?--I asked my Facebook crowd how they might build a time machine. Most wouldn't. I got reactions like, "Oh, we don't like machines. Use a locket or something cool like that for a portal." But I've written many approaches to time travel and want a machine this go.

Consequently, I've agonized over my creation but am making progress. It would be a lot easier to travel via a locket. My latest inclination is to focus on the nineteen fifties as my landing site, not because of Back to the Future. Seriously. I'm really nostalgic about the fifties. I was born then. But who knows? The Victorian era still beckons to me. It's quite possible I'm struggling to construct two different stories in two vastly dissimilar eras. I need to pick one and start writing again. I miss it. Writing is a big part of who I am.

Meanwhile, I spend hours in the garden. Soon, it will be too hot to linger outdoors. Then, I tell myself, I will get stuck in, as the Brits say, on whichever of these tales I choose. Unless I wander elsewhere. 

Book 1 in my Ladies in Time Series, Somewhere My Lady, is nearing its one year book birthday. This story was a joy to write and came to me like a gift. Rare indeed.

I'm drawn to including ghosts in my stories, and can't stay away from the paranormal. As I wrote Somewhere My Lady, ghostly figures appeared in the front hall for a dance. Yes, Somewhere My Lady is a ghostly time travel romance with a surprising mystery. The history is well researched. I enjoy blending fantasy and history in my time travels. 

Story Blurb:

Is he real or is he a ghost?

Lorna Randolph is hired for the summer at Harrison Hall in Virginia, where Revolutionary-War reenactors provide guided tours of the elegant old home. She doesn't expect to receive a note and a kiss from a handsome young man who then vanishes into mist.

Harrison Hall itself has plans for Lorna - and for Hart Harrison, her momentary suitor and its 18th century heir. Past and present are bound by pledges of love, and modern science melds with old skills and history as Harrison Hall takes Lorna and Hart through time in a race to solve a mystery and save Hart's life before the Midsummer Ball.

"Somewhere My Lady would be a great novel to take on a vacation where you could read while relaxing on the beach or at the pool. Top it off with a tropical cocktail, and you have the makings of a beautiful day. I found the writing and the storytelling to be superb." ~Colleen M. Chesebro

Somewhere My Lady is available in kindle and print at Amazon and soon to be out in Audio.

https://www.amazon.com/Somewhere-Lady-Ladies-Time-Book-ebook/product-reviews/B071VTNC7V

For more on me, visit my Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Beth-Trissel/e/B002BLLAJ6