The Immortal Rose Wyndham: The Beginning by B. Roman

 

 

This romantic adventure unfolds over 250 years, where the transcendent force of music and the belief in a higher purpose shape a narrative of mystery, magic, and miraculous encounters.

The Immortal Rose Wyndham: The Beginning

The Moon Singer Book 4

by B. Roman

Genre: Historical Romantic Fantasy Adventure

From 18th Century France to 20th Century San Francisco, the Promise of the Rose Crystal both empowered and mystified Grace Moreau and her daughter Rose Wyndham.

They fought for women’s rights, suffered prejudice and conspiracy theorists, and blazed their way through a male-dominated world to define their own roles in society. Through it all they poignantly resisted romantic desire, for if they fell in love the power of the Rose Crystal would be impotent and they - and their lovers - would die.

A romantic adventure spanning 250 years, B. Roman's 'The Immortal Rose Wyndham' is a story where the power of music, and the belief in a purpose greater than oneself, provide the mystery and magic that creates miracles.

**The Immortal Rose Wyndham: The Beginning can be read as a standalone and/or prequel to the rest of the books in the series.

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Legend has it that the Hawthorn tree, also known as the May Tree, is tied closely with female sexuality and therefore is useful in marriage or love magic. Hawthorn blossoms are believed to be highly erotic and are used to attract men by women looking for a new love. If the maiden places the petal under her pillow at night she will dream of her future husband. For Grace Moreau, this dream is forbidden. For her daughter, Rose, this dream is shattered. *** Prologue A delicate petal from the mystical Hawthorn tree flutters down with the gentleness of a butterfly and brushes her face, then falls to the ground, damp with her tears. “What’s wrong, Mama?” “Nothing is wrong, Dearest,” Grace assures her daughter. “These are tears of joy. Soon, everything will be right. But there will be some changes that may startle you or confuse you.” “I don’t understand.” “You’ll soon be a young woman and that is why I must tell you now, before the changes occur.” Always tall and willowy, Grace will soon lose height and gain width. Her skin will line and crease, and spots from years in the sunlight will form patterns on her delicate hands. The female body betrays you, she grieves silently. It deteriorates into unwelcome mosaics of decay, becomes something to be hidden. Because a spell is about to be broken, she must soon resort to Smoke and Mirrors: careful makeup, corsets, long sleeves, and face veils to conceal the drastic changes. And yet, the voice will remain as young as springtime, alluring as a siren’s song, her last vestige of perpetual youth. “I watched my friends and loved ones grow old and wrinkled, some with poise, but most of the others with anguish at the gods,” she begins. “I held on to my youth fervently, selfishly, out of vanity, and also out of fear. I believed if I let myself age as they did I would then die an old crone, angry and alone.” “You’ll never be an old crone, Mama, and you’ll never be alone while I’m here.” “My lovely daughter, you are my everything, but I have kept a secret from you that I can keep no longer.” Rose tilts her head inquisitively. “What kind of secret? If you tell me, will I have to keep it, too?” Grace brushes a stray auburn curl from her daughter’s forehead, lamenting the huge burden she is about to bequeath to her. “A long, long time ago, I was given a gift and told it has magic in it, an essence to keep me young and beautiful for as long as I wore it. I had to make choices along the way - how I lived my life, how I treated others, what I valued. I didn’t always make wise or benevolent choices, though I tried as often as my pride and inner strength would allow. And now my time for holding on to this gift is coming to an end. It no longer works for me.” “Surely it does, Mama. You’re still young and beautiful, as always.” “Be prepared, Dearest. I won’t be for long.” Grace Wyndham nee Moreau, born 1750, and now 107 years old in this year 1857, opens the clasp of the chain from which the pendant hangs. She removes it from her smooth neck which will soon develop deep lines and folds of sagging skin. “I give this pendant - the sacred Rose Crystal - to you. It belongs to you. It is why I named you Rose. Since you were born, I could see you have special talents and insights that I never had. I know you will be a true guardian of the pendant and will make careful and generous choices. Listen to what the crystal tells you and your life will be rich and full and long.” Grace secures the clasp at the nape of her daughter’s flawless neck. The crystal glints its miraculous promise, the optical effect of a star appears on its surface, made visible in the moonlight. An expression of childlike wonder animates Rose’s face. “It’s exquisite. I have no other words. What happens now?” “My life will end soon. But you, dearest Rose, will be immortal.”

**Don’t miss the rest of the collection!**

 Every fantastic adventure, every romance, every heartwarming family story, every magical moment.

All four books in B. Roman’s The Moon Singer, a series of fantasy novels, now available in one volume. This collection also includes the prequel novella, Before the Boy, as a bonus.

https://mybook.to/MoonSingerCollection

B. Roman - in her own words:

Since childhood, I've been torn between two worlds: writing and singing. It's difficult to serve "two masters," as they say, but I was compelled to do so. When I was not singing, I was writing; when I was not writing, I was singing. I've learned, for me, that one creative expression nurtures the other. Much of my writing has a musical theme somewhere in the plot, or is the plot. Whether it's in my non-fiction writing about the power of music itself, in children’s picture books and in writing music and lyrics for songs.

It is natural, therefore, that my adventure series (The Moon Singer) has its roots in musical theories and metaphors, entwined with the magic and mystery of metaphysical concepts and matters of ethics, faith, compassion, love, and heroism. Music provokes universal emotions and memories, and giving my characters a musical talent and/or identity enriches them and the reader experience.

*B. Roman’s books include the 5-book Moon Singer Series, two suspense thrillers (Whatever Became of Sin?; A Man’s Face), and (as Barbara Roman) three children’s books: Hubert in Heaven, Alicia & The Light Bulb People in Star Factory 13, and The Prince Who Was A Piccolo.

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REAL LIFE TO FICTION

By Caroline Clemmons

I’m happy as a new colt to discuss my historical western romance, HIGH STAKES BRIDE, Men of Stone Mountain, Book 2, in print and e-book. Of course, it's also in KU.  

I love this book! And readers have, too. I especially love the heroine—her best intentions sometimes result in near catastrophe. Hmm, reminds me of myself. <G>

 

I developed the premise for this series while visiting the historic Belding-Gibson Ranch in Palo Pinto County, Texas. This is a large ranch, but only a fraction of the original size due to divisions among family members. The original home site stands, added on to over the decades since 1854. The late Barbara Belding Gibson and her husband, Charles Gibson were active in preserving the history of the ranch as well as Palo Pinto County’s history. The occasion of the first opening of their ranch about which I was aware was the release of Barbara’s book about the ranch, PAINTED POLE. I am so happy that I was able to tour this historic property in the beautiful (to me) Palo Pinto Mountains. The Gibsons were good stewards of their heritage. I also am lucky enough to own a copy of PAINTED POLE.

In the first Men of Stone Mountain book, BRAZOS BRIDE, the ranch was the setting for Hope Montoya’s ranch, but with a Spanish-style hacienda instead of a western ranch house. The smaller ranch owned by Micah Stone cozied up to the vast Montoya acreage, but without access to the river. Most ranchers at this time did not use wire to enclose their land, but Hope’s father had fenced in all of his property except that adjoining the Brazos River. When he was murdered, Micah was accused, and barely escaped with his life. For convenience, I slipped in the fictional town of Radford Crossing a few miles away. There are (in my opinion) numerous delightful and a few vicious supporting characters to add humor and danger and pathos to the story.

 In HIGH STAKES BRIDE, Alice Price is on the run from dangerous men. She had known that when her stepfather died, she would have to hurriedly escape her stepbrothers. Hadn’t she heard them promise her to the meanest man in Texas as payment for high stakes gambling losses? One misfortune after another devils her until she links up with Zach Stone. He looks sturdy as his last name and invites her to his ranch where his two aunts will chaperone them. She figures life had finally dealt her a winning hand.

Zach Stone has the sweetest ranch in all of Texas, at least he thinks he does. All he needs is a wife to build his family of boys and girls to carry on his ranch and name. He’s been jilted and vows he will never even speak to a woman again unless she's a relative. Then he comes across Alice Price and comes up with a crazy plan. He’s figured everything out, and is sure nothing can go wrong with his plan.

But life holds surprises for Alice and Zach... 

Doesn’t it always?  Otherwise there’s no book. ☺

Alice Price

HIGH STAKES BRIDE has several incidents based on specific real life events, a first for me. Characters and stories pop into my head unbidden, and I don’t use anything specific from life. I qualify the statement because I believe our subconscious is a pool of combined experiences from our lives and those of people we know or have heard about. In other words, a writer’s muse steals from a writer’s subconscious well.

 For this book, though, several things just fit the plot. The first was an incident that happened to my brother’s fiancée once when she went deer hunting on the day after Thanksgiving. The second combined with the first is in the excerpt below and happened to my neighbor when her bull--who was just being affectionate--pushed her into one of those large round hay bales. Next, I used an historic incident and had a real life hero help my fictional hero. A fourth incident is related to when a friend tried to dye her hair darker and had the same result as Alice.

 If you haven't yet read HIGH STAKES BRIDE and this post has intrigued you, here is the buy link at Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/STAKES-BRIDE-Stone-Mountain-Texas-ebook/dp/B009F7JLTK/

 

Now here’s an excerpt from HIGH STAKES BRIDE:

Zach slipped into the bedroll and waited, pistol in hand. He feigned sleep, wondering what kind of man tarried nearby. Whoever it was could have picked Zach off, so the sidewinder must not have murder on his mind.

Probably up to no good hiding out like that, though, because any Westerner would share his campfire and vittles with anyone who rode into camp. Zach wriggled into a comfortable spot and lay motionless. Anger at recent events helped him remain awake.

The footfalls came so softly he almost missed them. He opened his eyes a slit, but enough to see a thin shadow move toward the fire. About then heavy clouds overhead parted and the moonlight revealed a boy who scooped up a slice of bacon and slid it into his mouth.

The culprit set Zach’s tin plate on the ground near the fire, ladled beans into it, and picked up a fork. He squatted down and balanced the plate on his knees before he commenced eating. Zach noticed he kept his left hand in his pocket the whole time.

Something must be wrong with the thief’s left arm.  Looked too young for it to have been a casualty of the War. Lots of other ways to get hurt out here. Whatever had happened to his left arm, his right one worked well enough. He forked food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

Zach let him shovel beans for a few minutes. Crook or not, anyone that hungry deserved a meal. When the kid stopped eating, Zach couldn’t figure out what he was doing.  It looked as if he used the fork to scratch around on the ground, so he must have eaten his fill. Zach slipped his hand from beneath the cover and cocked the pistol.

“Hold it right there, son. I’d like to know why you’re eating without at least a howdy to the man who provided the food.”

The boy paused, then set the plate down slowly. “I left money here on a rock to pay for it.”

Odd sounding voice, but the kid was probably scared. Zach slipped from his bedroll and stood, but kept his gun pointed at the food robber. “Maybe.”

Zach walked toward the kid, careful to train his gaze so the firelight didn’t dim his eyesight. Sure enough, he spotted a couple of coins on the rock beside his pot of beans, or what remained of them, and his empty plate.

He faced the intruder. “Why not just come into camp earlier instead of sneaking in after you thought I was asleep?”

“I—I was afraid you weren’t friendly.”

Zach thought he also heard the kid mutter what sounded like “...or maybe too friendly.” Must be the wind, he thought, as he neared the boy.

Zach motioned with his free hand. “I don’t begrudge anyone food, but I hate dishonesty and sneaking around.  Stand up so I can see you.”

The kid stood, hat low over his face and his good hand clenched.

Zach reached to push the brim back. “What’s your name?”

The kid stepped forward. “None of your business, mister.”

A fistful of sand hit Zach’s face. He heard his assailant run. Mad as the devil, Zach brushed grit from his eyes and set out in pursuit. The kid was fast, he’d give him that, but so was Zach. His longer legs narrowed the distance between them.  With a running lunge, he tackled the kid.

“Oof. Let me go.” The lad was all wriggles and kicking feet as he squirmed trying to escape.

Zach wasn’t about to let that happen. They rolled in the dirt. In one move Zach pinned the boy’s good arm. The hat fell aside and a mass of curls spilled around the kid’s face.

His jacket parted and unmistakable curves pushed upward where Zach’s other hand rested. Zach stared in disbelief. Registering his hand pressed against a heavenly mound shocked him and he jerked his paw away.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re not a boy.”

The woman glared at him. “Right, and you’re not exactly a feather. Get off me.”

Zach stood and bent to help her but she curled into a ball where she lay. “Ma’am, you okay?”

“Just dandy.” She sat up, moving like a hundred-year-old. She glared at him while holding her stomach with her good hand. The other arm dangled uselessly. “You’ve likely broken the few uninjured bones I had left.”

His temper flared. “Hey, lady, don’t try to put the blame on me. If you’d been honest and come into camp like any other traveler, I’d have shared my food with you.”

“Yeah, well a woman on her own can’t be too careful and I don’t know you or anything about you.”

Zach saw her point. Though most Western men would respect a woman, it wouldn’t help if she ran into one of the exceptions.

“What’s wrong with your arm?”

She glared at him and appeared to debate with herself before she said, “Fell out of a tree. My arm caught in the fork of a branch. Pulled it out of socket and I can’t get it back.”

Well hell. As if he didn’t have enough on his mind. Now that he’d decided not to speak to another woman unrelated to him, this bundle of trouble showed up needing a keeper.

Resigning himself to one more stroke of bad luck, he said, “Take off your coat and come over here to my bedroll.”

The campfire sparked less than her eyes. “I’ll do no such of a thing. Don’t be thinking you can take liberties because I ate your food and I’m injured. I paid for the food.”

Zach exhaled and planted his fists on his hips. “Ma’am, there’s not enough money in Texas to pay me to take liberties with you. If you’ll move to my bedroll and lie down, I’ll put your arm back in place. You’ll likely have to take off your, um, your shirt.”

She looked him up and down as if she weighed him and found him lacking. “I figured you for a rancher. You a doctor then?”

“Ranchers have to know a good bit about patching people.”

She straightened herself and swished past him as if she wore a ball gown instead of a man’s torn britches. Watching the feminine sway of her hips as she sashayed to the other side of the campfire, he wondered how he ever mistook her for male. He followed her and tried not to appreciate her long legs or the way the fabric molded to them like a second skin.

When she reached the blasted bedroll he’d been stuck with, she slid out of her jacket. A grimace of pain flashed across her face as the weight of the light coat slipped down her injured arm. In one graceful move she plopped down on the bedroll.

“You’re sure you can do this?” she asked and looked up at him.

Flickering firelight placed her features in shadow. Moving closer, he figured the poor light played tricks on him, for he couldn't tell the color of her hair. He decided she had light brown or dark blonde curls. Whatever color her eyes were, maybe blue or green, they were big and watched him with suspicion.

“Yes. Sorry, I don’t have any spirits with me to deaden the pain.”

“I never touch alcohol. If you’re sure you can do this, just get on with it.” She unbuttoned her shirt and winced as she slid the injured shoulder and arm free, and then stuck her chin up as if she dared him to make an improper comment or gesture.

He knelt beside her, keenly aware of the differences that proved her womanhood. A chemise of fabric worn so thin as to be almost transparent pulled taut across her breasts. He swallowed and willed himself to ignore the dark circles surrounding the pearly peaks thrusting at the flimsy material. The memory of the lush mound he’d touched briefly wouldn’t leave him. He’d been alone too long and had better concentrate on the job at hand.

“Stretch out and try to relax. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but this will hurt.”

“Hurts already, but I better put my bandana in my mouth so I don’t scream. I’m not a whiner, mind, but wouldn’t want to draw attention if there’s others nearby.” She slipped the cloth knotted around her neck up to her mouth like a gag, then laid down.

She moaned but didn’t fight him. Zach had seen this done numerous times over the years and had performed it twice. He probed her shoulder gently, then rotated her arm to slip it back into place.

He listened for the snick of the bone reseating itself in the socket. When he finished, he massaged the muscles of her upper arm and shoulder. She’d likely be sore for weeks, but the harm she had done wasn’t permanent.

“Have to give it to you, ma’am. You were the quietest patient I’ve ever seen.”

She lay with her face turned away from him. When he leaned over, he realized she’d passed out.

 

And it’s no wonder, is it?

Stay safe and keep reading!

Sandstorm by Joyce Yarrow

 

 

A pitch-perfect, heartfelt, and enthralling story of survival, coming-of-age and redemption. 

Sandstorm

by Joyce Yarrow

Genre: Urban Fiction 

GOLD MEDAL WINNER - Cipa Evvy Award for Women's Fiction

When you trade the straight and narrow for the crooked pathways of crime, it's likely to become a permanent arrangement. Unless, like Sandie Donovan, you're a born grifter, determined to use your knack for deception and crime to restart your life and achieve success as an actor.

A pitch-perfect, heartfelt, and enthralling story of survival, coming-of-age and redemption. Sandstorm is a suspenseful, pacy read about a compelling character whose adventures and misadventures are dramatic and exciting.

**ebook is on sale for Only $3.99 OR is in Kindle Unlimited!**

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Never go into a job cold. You’ve got to have a plan and be ready to handle whatever comes up. 

Russell and I had prepared meticulously and as a result, I’d been able to hold my anxiety in check when walking into a bank in Kansas City or Columbus, whether I was cashing a single forged check or cleaning out an entire account. Today was different. My chest felt tight and my thoughts were uneasy. Because what I wanted most could not be stolen. It had to be earned.  

On the way from the subway to the producer’s address on West 28th, I stopped briefly to inhale the fragrance of a bucketful of white lilies displayed in front of a storefront sandwiched between two newly constructed glass towers. It was depressing to see Manhattan’s Flower District, an oasis of green and growing plants, being sacrificed to the gods of development. 

My mood was not improved by the sight of my destination, a grey metal door smeared with graffiti. Maybe I should drop the whole deal. Why pin my hopes on an impoverished indie filmmaker who can’t afford to rent a decent rehearsal space? I was struggling to make up my mind when the door opened and Sloan came out. He’d substituted Nikes, sweatpants, and a tight-fitting blue t-shirt for the fatigues he’d worn in Brooklyn.  

“Go on up to the second floor. I’ve got to run an errand. Be right back.” I watched him hurry down the street, One-Take Wonder printed in block letters on the back of his shirt. 

Like the front door, the building’s grimy lobby and hallway were sub-par and left me completely unprepared, when the elevator door opened, to find myself on the threshold of a luxury loft with twenty-foot ceilings, complete with a décor copied straight from some house beautiful magazine.  

A tall, gawky woman in jeans and a Rousseau-blue velvet jacket darted across the room to greet me. Her short black hair was combed behind her ears to set off shoulder-length silver earrings.  

“Welcome, Sandie. I’m Leslie Ann, Executive Producer of Careless Love.” 

I was embarrassed to have assumed the producer was a man. I was also fascinated by a large painting of four primitively drawn flowers, centered on the wall behind an antique couch upholstered in gold brocade and itself a work of art.  

“That Andy Warhol silkscreen is the only real art we have left,” Leslie Ann said. “And as much as I love Sloan’s latest project, I’ve told him this is one piece that will never go near the auction block.” 

I envisioned her coming home to find a dark rectangle where the frame had been, my fence suitably impressed, money changing hands—all in the second it took me to draw breath and say, “It’s beautiful.”  

How incorrigible I was, for someone who had a steady day job and whose lawless days were supposedly behind her.  

Leslie Ann escorted me into the rehearsal space, where floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls and four actors looked up at her from their seats around a glass-covered library table. Their faces were partially illuminated by rays of sun streaming from the skylight. It could have been a professionally lit set.  

“I see you’re dressed for the part,” commented a rectangular-faced person with intensely cerulean eyes. “I’m Chris and I go by the pronoun ‘they.’ I’m playing Theo. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Chris,” I said, ignoring the comment on my appearance. I’d made myself up as Janine, my hair hidden under a dark green silk hijab and now, seeing the casual attire of my fellow actors, realized my mistake. I took off the headscarf and draped it over the back of my chair, taking a seat at the table. 

Joyce Yarrow is an award-winning author of literary novels of suspense that, according to Library Journal, “appeal to readers who enjoy unusual mysteries with an international setting.”

Her coming-of-age novel SANDSTORM, won a the 2022 gold medal in Women's Fiction at the CIPA/Evvy Awards and her historical thriller, ZAHARA AND THE LOST BOOKS OF LIGHT, has been awarded 5 Stars by Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine and translated into Spanish and Portuguese. Joyce's other published novels of suspense include ASK THE DEAD, RUSSIAN RECKONING, and RIVERS RUN BACK (co-authored with Arindam Roy).

A New York City transplant now living in Seattle, Yarrow began her writing life scribbling poems on the subway and observing human behavior from every walk of life. She is a Pushcart Prize Nominee with short stories and essays that have appeared in Inkwell Journal, Whistling Shade, Descant, Arabesques, and Weber: The Contemporary West and the Los Angeles Review of Books. Yarrow is a member of the Sisters in Crime organization and has presented workshops on “The Place of Place in Mystery Writing” at conferences in the US and India.

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Alexadra's Awakening: Pearson Grove Series Book 2 by Caroline Clemmons

Alexadra's Awakening:  Pearson Grove Series Book 2

by Caroline Clemmons

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Book Blurb:

A wealthy woman forced to change; a heroic sheriff standing his ground; the danger that unites them…

Alexandra Novak has been raised in wealth and is used to having whatever she wishes. Her parents have spoiled her and she’d begun to believe it her right. A fire that destroys her family home and almost costs her mother’s life starts Alexandra to rethink her values. When her father’s revelation shatters her world, she is determined to do whatever necessary to make her father happy—even if it means being nice to that girl he’s brought into their home.

Virgil Witt is the best sheriff Pearson Grove has had. Under his leadership, crime is at an all-time low. He has reconciled himself to the fact that he is destined to live alone except for his dog. Maybe that’s best since his job is a dangerous one. He can’t understand why Alexandra chases him, especially not after he’s explained he has no money.

When danger strikes the Novak family, can Virgil solve the problem in time? Can Alexandra convince Virgil she has changed? Can the two of them work together or will her need for the best resurface?

 

Adeline: Cupids and Cowboys, Book 10 by Caroline Clemmons

Adeline: Cupids and Cowboys, Book 10

By Caroline Clemmons

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Book Blurb:

Mix a woman in sorrow…A man’s longing…Two matchmaking girls’ mischief…Result-mayhem!  After the death of her fiancé, Violet Evanston escapes to the furthest teaching job she is offered. She loves the children and the community, but something is missing. As the second son, Clark Abernathy knows he won’t inherit the family business, so he’s happy to move to assist his uncle Abe with his carpentry business. Building for the future is fulfilling, but his personal happiness is incomplete. Adeline McGee and her best friend Nancy adore their teacher. They believe she’s far too kind and pretty to be alone. They’re also fond of Nancy’s cousin, Clark. When the fourteen-year-olds decide to play matchmaker, the town isn’t safe from fun, adventure, and happy every after.

Teachers could not be married women in the old West.  Men could be married, but when a woman got married she lost her job.  It was very unfair, but that was the way it was.  That meant if you really loved teaching, you had to remain a spinster.  Teachers had all kinds of morality clauses in their contracts and since they lived in housing provided by the town, they were watched like a hawk.  What a stressful way to live!
 

A Bride for Luke: The Proxy Brides Book 36 by Caroline Clemmons

A Bride for Luke: The Proxy Brides Book 36

by Caroline Clemmons

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Book Blurb:

Each is struggling to build a better life . . .

Two strong-willed people are bound to clash . . .

Danger forces them to focus on what is at stake . . .

Maeve Kelly came to America for a better life but found only signs that said No Irish Need Apply. When the cousin with whom she is staying leaves Boston, Maeve is left desperate. Her job at the laundry doesn’t pay enough for her to survive alone. Her friend suggests a way out, Maeve resists but finally accepts. What else can she do?

Sheriff Luke Sullivan is proud of his accomplishments. Known for his strong principles, he is admired and well-respected in the community. When he learns his mother and aunt have schemed to get him a proxy bride he’s furious. If he’d wanted a wife he would have found one. He respects and loves his mother and finally agrees to the marriage. Before he and his bride can adjust to one another, Luke is caught in the middle of an explosive situation between striking miners and the railroad.

Threats against Luke by each side have him fearing for the safety of his wife, mother, and aunt. He must resolve the strike to protect his family and many others. Will he succeed in time to save lives?

Strikes used to be very violent.  The companies would beat up striking workers, the workers would be up replacement workers (scabs), and people got killed.  Trying to mediate strikes put you in the middle and both sides could and would beat you up.  Luke and his family really were in danger.  See if he can keep everyone safe.

Our Mothers, Our Daughters and Animal Prints on My Soul by Candace Gish

 

"Our Mothers, Our Daughters" is an extraordinary collection of inspiring essays that illuminates the unique bond between mother and daughter."

Animals have an incredible ability to become precisely what we need them to be. Countless extraordinary stories can be found within "Animal Prints On My Soul." 

Our Mothers, Our Daughters

A Divas That Care Collection

by Candace Gish

Genre: Women’s Fiction Anthology

The mother-daughter relationship defines who we are, how we view ourselves, and what we want for our lives. Much like this multi-faceted relationship, the lessons in Our Mothers, Our Daughters are strong, yet soft. Through a collection of curated stories, readers journey alongside moms and daughters as they share poignant moments and messages of an everlasting bond. A Divas That Care anthology, this book showcases the collaboration and celebration of women and is presented in three collections: Connection, Inner Self, and Unconditional Love.

Contributors to Our Mothers, Our Daughters:

Connection

Alethea3 – Jacqueline Biollo

One, TWO! – Sheba Cummings

Me and My Girls – Beth Draper

The Cycle Continues – Irena Kay

Mom Born, Birthed, Raised, Loved – Carol Koppelman

Mom and Me: Me and Mom – Kathleen Bayes Ogilvie

My Daughter, My Valentine – Brenda Pearce

Inner Self

But You’re Supposed to Love Me – Michelle Bateman

A Flash of My Smile – Meredith Ethington

A Relationship Not Made in Heaven – Adriana Gavazzoni

Rusty & Jean – I threw my mother through the wall. – Jean Kanokogi

My Biggest Cheerleader – Noleen Mariappen

Metaphysical Musings – Peggy and Kate Neligan

A Study in Golden Rule and Persistence – Rosanna Pittella

Rose Simard – What I Wouldn’t Change

Unconditional Love

Unconditional Love: The Teenage Years – Cheryl Ashton

When Trust Is Lost – Lynn Carnes and Jen Maneely

My Daughter: The Warrior – Jerri Dexter

Champagne at Christmas – Gia-Raquel Esposito

My Beautiful Miracle – Jennifer Herron

Tight Rope – Mandy McLaughlin

My Mother, My Friend – Giuliana Melo

Mothers and Daughters – Juanita Wilson 

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Animal Prints On My Soul

A Divas That Care Collection

by Candace Gish

Genre: Non-Fiction Animal Anthology

Animals can be our heroes, our confidantes, our coaches, and our best examples of unconditional love. In Animal Prints on My Soul, we explore the human-animal bond through the experiences and stories of women. Featuring horses, dogs, cats, birds, and more, animal lovers will connect with these ordinary – yet extraordinary – stories of how animals impact our lives. Heartwarming, touching, and joyful, this book is a splendid gift for those who love animals. The stories of Healing, Connection, and Love & Loss also encourage us to pause and appreciate the wonderful gifts our animal friends bring us so we’ve provided deeper-dive prompts for those who would like to transform these blessings into inspiration for their own lives.

Contributors to Animal Prints on My Soul:

Healing

The Wisdom of Horses – Angie Payne

Whispers from an Angel – Daphne McDonagh

My Healing Journey with Animals – Diane Rose-Solomon

The Unicorn Search – Beth Lauren Parrish

Healing Beauty – Ginny Jablonski

Connection

A Friend by My Side – Marla Patrick

My First Best Friend – Deb Matlock

For the Children – Lorie Murphey

A Horse, a Boy, and Undying Love – Naomi McDonald

Lessons from a Red-Tailed Hawk – Linda Roberts

A Divine Communication – Esta Bernstein

What It Means to Be a Red Barn Horse – Alexis Braswell

Farm Girl Memories – Abigail Stimpert

When God Says, “Wait.” – Hannah Stimpert

Letting Go and Holding On – Donna Palamar

Gabriel’s Story – Sharon Dilley

26 Marathons and My Trainer – Jo Dibblee

Leadership in Flight – Haseena Patel

Love and Loss

Lead with Love – Kate Neligan

Spirit Animals – Stef Skupin

Country Life – Joyce Benning

Expectations: People vs. Dogs – Katherine Jensen

Becoming the Community Cat Lady – Kathy Lynn Mackison

Grief, Death, and Dying – Tracy Pierce

Horse, Heart, and Home – Ley-Anne Mountain

When Fate Brings You Fur Kids – Jean Brannon

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***Check out the Divas That Care Podcast with special author interviews HERE!**

Candace Gish is a motivator and empowering change agent who understands the challenges women face while finding success in their everyday lives and businesses. She is an advocate for mentorship and strong, supportive networks.

Her four daughters and wonderful husband have inspired her to create a better world, thus the Divas That Care Network was born. Candace enjoys connecting with goal-oriented women and has the commitment to make a difference. She believes in the power of women converging to implement change and has ensured that the purpose of the Divas That Care movement quantifies just that.

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