For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.
    So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, what is unseen is eternal.
    ~2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Friday, June 13, 2014

Farmer's Market : Gina Welborn Books

Welcome to the final day of Harlequin Love Inspired & Heartsong Presents 
Authors' Community Picnic! 

Earlier this week (while I was on family holiday in Las Vegas), I offered my contribution to the week's Community Picnic events. 

Today's Community Picnic focus is . . . Farmer's Market.

farmers' market (also farmers market) is a physical retail market featuring foods sold directly by farmers to consumers. Farmers' markets typically consist of booths, tables or stands, outdoors or indoors, where farmers sell fruits, vegetables, meats, and sometimes prepared foods and beverages. They are distinguished from public markets, which are generally housed in permanent structures, open year-round, and offer a variety of non-farmer/producer vendors, packaged foods and non-food products.

Since I don't have a garden (yet), I have no real or digital produce to offer you. However, I can give you samples of my books. Enjoy!

Chapter 1
Hillsdale, Michigan, February 1856

The Reverend Scott didn't even know he had ruined her life.

He would, after Liberty Judd confronted him. In the  meantime, she patiently  listened to the engine's brakes screech to a halt at the Hillsdale station. Her parents would be horrified to learn she'd sat on a burlap sack in a pitch-black railcar instead of on a seat in a private coach. The mail train's passenger car had been full. To return to Hillsdale tonight, her only option had  been a seat in  the baggage car—given only because she'd begged repeatedly and offered a more than generous price. She'd even been in too much of a hurry to take the time  to  change out  of  the  olive-green ballgown  she'd sewn specifically for her stepmother's fortieth birthday extravaganza. The same ball she should  be enjoying  instead of fleeing Chicago on the Southern Michigan Railroad's last eastbound train.

Not only did she likely smell of the smoke seeping through the car's wood-planked walls, but her gown and winter cloak were filthy, her pocketbook empty and her life miserable. At least she'd wisely exchanged her dancing slippers for woolen socks and sturdy winter boots before her pre-ball escape.

Click HERE to read the rest of Chapter 1 

Mercy Mild 
Barbour Publishing 
2014 Selah Award Finalist 

Chapter 1
 Schooley’s Mountain, New Jersey
December 22, 1868

The home of eccentric Essie Hasenclever was not an option for the child.


As the stagecoach rocked and rolled up the Washington Turnpike, Deputy Sheriff Ezekiel Norcross winked at the three boys on the opposite bench, earning a smile in return. He then tapped the nose of little Irena next to him. She glanced away from the badge on his lapel long enough to exchange a grin.


On the other side of Irena, Polly Reid drummed her boot on the coach floor. Her troubled gaze focused on the gold streaks in the sky created by the setting sun. The nine year-old urchin’s shoulder-length blond ringlets hung loose under a dark blue glengarry with a red torrie on top and pink ribbons added to the red ones hanging down the back. Instead of being steeply angled atop her head like a Scotsman would wear it, the boat-like “bonnet” rested level on her head and low enough to reach her eyebrows. How it came in herpossession, Polly wouldn’t say. Nor did she have even a hint of a Scottish burr.

Click HERE to read the rest of Chapter 1 

All Ye Faithful
Barbour Publishing

Chapter 1
Tumwater, Washington
December 1890

"I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind and tell E.V. how I feel,” Larkin Whitworth happily announced before plopping down in the wooden chair despite the fullness of her skirts and petticoats. She handed Anna the punch cup she’d refilled for the fifth time since Emma and Frederick’s wedding celebration began. Considering how quickly her adorably—and abundantly—pregnant friend downed the apricot-flavored beverage, Larkin also offered the second cup she’d brought for herself while Anna’s doting husband, Jeremiah, fetched a second plate of egg salad sandwiches.

“Really?” Anna exchanged the full cup with the empty one. “I can’t figure why I’m so parched all day long.”

“You’re expecting. I think that’s expected.”

“I suppose.” Anna fanned her sweat-glistened forehead. “Are you hot? I’m hot. It’s hot.”

As the fiddling increased in volume, signaling the beginning of another dance, Larkin took the fan from Anna and attended to cooling her tillikum, closest friend. Mama would be proud she was at least thinking Chinook jargon.

“I’m fine, but the Farmer’s Almanac did predict a warm though wet—”

At Anna’s raised hand, Larkin fell silent.

“We are both too young and the wrong gender to be discussing weather.” Instead of drinking her punch, Anna gave Larkin a slant-eyed look. “Are you really going to tell Mr. Heartless Renier that you love him?”

Click HERE to read the rest of Chapter 1

Sugarplum Hearts
Barbour Publishing

Chapter 1
Fayetteville, North Carolina
June 1789


"You, Finley Sinclair, have a way with words,” Mrs. McDubh announced with a wee bit of flirtationin her tone while the gray tabby in her lap staredintently at him.


Finley smiled at the couple sitting across from him, both he guessed to be in their midtwenties, near his age. “A way with felines, too,” he boasted. Yet he nervously hoped the mother cat didn’t take his words as an invitation to befriend him. He had never actually coddled a cat before. Not that he disliked them.


He had merely never owned a pet of the feline or canine or even equine variety.While Mrs. McDubh fanned her face in the humid upstairs sitting room, three mewing kittens continued to climb over her husband who sat next to her on the blue velvet settee. Their home above their shop held only the basics of furniture and decorations. Still, Angus McDubh likely earned more in a month making ropes than Finley had ever made in two.


The young rope maker pried a kitten off his chest. Again.“Mr. Sinclair, did the cat you climbed the ship’s mast to rescue appreciate your way with felines?” he asked while a second furry barnacle attached to the shoulders of his plaid shirt. Like his wife’s, his voice held the barest hint of Scottish burr.


“Aye. Enough to use my body as a scratching post on her way down.” Finley patted his buckskinned legs. “Still bear the scars.”

Click HERE to read the read of chapter 1 
Sugarplum Hearts in HIGHLAND CROSSINGS

LIHp January 2014
Each day this week, during the picnic, I will give away one copy of The Heiress's Courtship. Leave a comment and your contact information [yourname(at)addy(dot)com]. Contest runs June 9-15. Drawing held on June 16th and winners will be notified.

To learn more about my books, including my next Heartsong release The Marshal's Pursuit, visit my website:
Join the Harlequin LI/HP Community Picnic!

Janet Tronstad's writing challenge begins (goes all week)

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