Friday, September 10, 2021



By Caroline Clemmons

Don’t you love the cover of POLKA WITH PAULINE? The dress is lovely and one of my favorite colors. One of the fun things in this story is that the dance floor moves as the couples are dancing. I wonder what that sensation would be like. I’d probably fall, but Pauline had a glorious time. This is a sweet western historical romance set in Creede, Colorado. And, it’s on sale for 99¢ from today through Wednesday, September 15. If you haven’t read this story, here’s a chance to get it at a bargain.  

Here’s the blurb:

A woman’s mission of mercy…

A man determined to create…

An attack by a crazed killer…


Pauline Brubaker arrives in Creede, Colorado from Denver to help care for her aunt while the aunt’s broken leg heals. Pauline’s hesitant to give in to her attraction to Creighton because she will only be in Creede the few weeks her aunt needs her help. Her parents and her life are in Denver.

Creighton Reed makes amazing pieces of furniture. They sell as fast as he can create them. Creighton meets Pauline when her aunt and the sponsor of the Matchmaker Balls conspire to have them attend a dance together. He is immediately attracted to Pauline, but she gives mixed signals.

Creighton barely escapes when fire bombs destroy his workshop and his living quarters. Who wants him dead and why?


This excerpt is when Pauline has gone to Creighton’s workshop to borrow a wheelchair for her aunt’s use:

“Is Creighton a family name?”

He grew solemn. “I don’t know. I was dropped off at an orphanage when I was two. I know nothing of my family except that my father had died. My mother attached a note to my shirt. She said she couldn’t earn a living and look after me properly. She wanted me where I’d be cared for.”

How she regretted causing him bad memories. “That must have been so hard for her and for you. She must have loved you a great deal to think of your well being before her wish to keep you with her. Do you know where she is?”

“No, the orphanage is near Denver, but she could have gone anywhere. She included a photo of her and my father with her holding me as a baby. She wrote the names on the back of the photo.”

“I hope you can find her, Creighton. I’ll bet she thinks of you every day. Is the photo where you can easily show it to me? What’s her name?”

He took a cabinet card from a shelf. “Naomi Ruth Reed but she may have married again. The orphanage let me keep my name since my mother was alive. Usually, they change a child’s name.”

Pauline examined the photo. The man was handsome and the mother pretty. Baby Creighton was adorable but she wouldn’t tell him. The date on the back was 1866. Thomas Ezekiel Reed, Naomi Ruth Sanders Reed, and Creighton David Reed, age six months.

“You were born four years before me. I’ll bet your father was in the war, survived that, and then died when he came home. Seems unfair.”

“It is unfair. I used to make up stories about them where my father hadn’t died and he and my mother were coming to get me. Sometimes we’d go to a ranch, other times to a fancy house in Denver. Sounds silly now but it helped at the time.”

“Not silly at all.”

He accepted the return of the photo and set it back on a shelf. “May I call you Pauline?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Thank you. I suppose I’ll call you Miss Brubaker when we meet socially and anyone else is around.”

“I don’t expect situations will arise where that will happen. Since helping them is why I’ve come to Creede I’ll stay close to my aunt and uncle’s place.”

“Would you allow me to call on you there?”

She smiled at him. “I’d like that, Creighton.”

Pauline sighed and pushed the chair toward the door. “I’ve kept you away from your work too long even though I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

He turned the sign on his door to Closed – Back soon. “I’ll push the chair and escort you back to the Chambers’ home.”

“There’s no need to close your workshop. I am quite capable of getting this to my aunt.”

“I know you can, but you need an escort.” His voice was firm. “You forget how many rough people are in town.”

Did he think she was some fainting miss who couldn’t handle a confrontation? He sounded like her father.

“I can see my aunt and uncle’s picket fence from here. Certainly I’m able to push this chair a couple of blocks.”

“Pauline, you shouldn’t—”

“Good day, Creighton.” She pushed the chair down the walkway.



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