A STOLEN HEART
Cimarron Creek Trilogy #1
by
AMANDA CABOT
Genre: Historical Romance / Christian
Publisher: Revell / Baker Publishing Group
Date of Publication: March, 2017
Number of Pages: 352
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“Endearing characters, a tender love story, and intriguing mystery all work together to make Amanda Cabot’s A Stolen Heart a compelling and enjoyable read.”
—Margaret Brownley, author of Left at the Altar
Bestselling author Amanda Cabot takes readers back in time to the 1880s Texas Hill Country in her new historical romance novel, A Stolen Heart. This is the first book in a brand-new series packed with tension, mystery, and a tender love story that readers won’t soon forget.
Cimarron Creek seemed like an idyllic Texas town. But as soon as former schoolteacher Lydia Crawford stepped onto its dusty streets, she noticed a deep-seated resentment of Northerners—like her.
That won’t get Lydia down, though. She looks forward to the day when she reunites with her fiancé—until she discovers her fiancé has disappeared without a trace and has left behind a pregnant wife. The handsome Cimarron Creek sheriff urges Lydia to trust him, but she is having a hard time trusting anyone in a town where secrets and suspense prevail.
Cabot weaves an elegant tale of pure love amidst heartache. With an absorbing plot and engaging characters, A Stolen Heart is a springtime showstopper fit for every historical romance reader.
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* Amazon * Barnes & Noble * Baker Retail * ChristianBook.com
* Amazon * Barnes & Noble * Baker Retail * ChristianBook.com
No matter what anyone said, she wouldn’t believe this was a
mistake. Lydia Crawford glanced at the other passengers, wondering whether her
hours of sitting here, remaining silent but keeping a smile firmly fixed on her
face, had done anything to lessen their hostility. She had considered pulling a
book from her bag and spending the day lost in one of Jane Austen’s tales but
had feared that would only rile her companions more.
Though Lydia wanted nothing beyond a peaceful journey and some
pleasant conversation, she suspected that was impossible. The two sisters who
were traveling together and the mother and son had given her friendly smiles
when they’d boarded the stagecoach in Dallas, but the moment she’d opened her
mouth, those smiles had turned to frowns, the friendliness to hostility.
“She’s a Yankee,” one of the sisters had announced. “Mebbe a
sister to one of them carpetbaggers. She’s sure makin’ a mistake coming to
Texas.” They both glared at Lydia for a moment, then turned away, refusing to
even look in her direction.
The mother had taken more drastic action. Though she and her son
had chosen seats next to Lydia when they boarded the stagecoach, once Lydia had
spoken and they’d realized she was a Northerner, they’d moved to the less
comfortable backless bench in the center of the coach rather than risk being
tainted by her presence.
Lydia had endured snubs before, but none of this magnitude.
Though she’d tried to slough it off, she’d been unable. Not only had the
woman’s shunning hurt but it made Lydia wonder if she would face similar
rejection in Cimarron Creek. Nonsense, she told herself. Edgar
would have warned me if that were the case. But of course there had
been no word from Edgar. The night he left, they had both agreed it would be
far too risky for him to send a letter or telegram. He would go to Texas and
make a home for them, leaving Lydia to join him as soon as the school could
find a replacement for her. Though it wasn’t their original plan, it was the
only one that made sense after what had happened outside the tavern. Surely it
wasn’t a mistake.
Lydia’s gaze moved past the disapproving sisters to the
dark-haired boy in the center of the coach. With little else to occupy him,
he’d been staring at her. Now he leaned forward, his hand extended as if he
wanted to touch her. Lydia shook her head slightly, knowing nothing good would
come from encouraging the child. A second later, though his mother had been
gazing out the window, seemingly oblivious to the curious looks her son had
been giving Lydia, she turned abruptly and yanked him back onto the bench.
“Silas, you stay right here. I don’t want you talkin’ to that
person.” She spat the final word as if it were an epithet. Lydia refused to
cringe. She’d been called worse, especially once she’d crossed the Mason-Dixon
line. Though the war had been over for more than fifteen years, the enmity
caused by four years of bloodshed and the disastrous era known as
Reconstruction remained, at least in some hearts.
“But, Ma,” the boy protested, “she’s real purty. I nebber seen
hair like that.”
This time Lydia did cringe, wishing she’d been Silas’s teacher.
The boy was clearly old enough to attend school, but his poor grammar told her
that if he was being taught, it wasn’t well.
Silas’s mother continued to frown. “You do as I say, young man,
or I’ll tan your hide.”
“Yes, Ma.” But, despite his
mother’s admonitions, Silas smiled at Lydia.
“Silas!”
He looked up at his mother, his expression one of feigned
innocence. “I ain’t talkin’.”
Though Lydia was tempted to grin at the boy’s cheeky response,
she didn’t want to get him in any more trouble, and so she turned to look out
the window. At least the scenery would not protest a Northerner’s gaze.
Texas bore little resemblance to central New York. It wasn’t
simply the heat, although that was far more intense than she had expected,
especially since summer hadn’t officially begun. The towns she’d passed through
were smaller than the ones near Syracuse, with few of the two-story houses so
common at home.
Lydia hadn’t been able to identify many of the crops, and the
trees—she’d heard someone call them pecans and live oaks—were unlike the elms,
maples, and sycamores that lined the streets in Syracuse. The grass was different
too, and though she hadn’t thought it possible, the Texas sky seemed even
deeper blue than a summer sky at home.
Lydia shook herself mentally. Syracuse wasn’t home any longer.
Her family was gone, and she’d resigned her position at the academy where she’d
spent most of her life, first as a student, then as a teacher. With her ties to
central New York severed, there was nothing to return to. Her future home was
with Edgar in Cimarron Creek, Texas. Thank goodness that was only a few hours
away. She was equally thankful that none of the other passengers would be
disembarking there. Surely the residents of Cimarron Creek would be more
welcoming.
She leaned against the seat back and closed her eyes, not wanting
to see the unfriendly faces opposite her. The journey that had been long and at
times grueling was almost over. Before the sun set, Lydia would be with Edgar.
By the end of the week, she would be Mrs. Edgar Ellis. It might be four months
later than they’d planned, but soon—very soon—she would be wearing the
beautiful ring he’d shown her their last evening together. Lydia bit the inside
of her cheek, remembering how the ring had gleamed in the moonlight when he’d
held it in his bloodstained hands.
Stop it! she admonished herself. She had resolved
not to think about that night and the reason Edgar had fled. When the police
had questioned her, she had been able to answer honestly that he hadn’t told
her where he was headed. But even though no names had been mentioned that
night, she’d known his destination. Months earlier, Edgar had shown her a map
of Texas and had pointed toward the town where he wanted them to raise a
family.
“It’s right in the heart of what they call the Hill Country,” he
said. “Germans settled a lot of towns, but this one was founded by three men
from the North.”
Edgar’s enthusiasm had been contagious, and Lydia soon found
herself imagining their life in a new state.
“It’ll be warm and beautiful,” he told her. “Best of all, we’ll
be able to open our own business. No more working for others.”
Independence had always been Edgar’s dream, though the details
seemed to change with the phases of the moon. One day he wanted to run a
mercantile. A week later he would talk about buying a hotel and restaurant. The
one thing they’d both agreed on was that a saloon had no place in their future.
Lydia had soon realized that all that truly mattered to Edgar was
being his own boss, and she’d accepted the vague explanations. It didn’t matter
to her whether they ran a mercantile, a hotel, or something else. What mattered
was being with Edgar.
Soon. She opened her eyes again and gazed at the landscape. The
bluebonnets she’d heard so much about were no longer blooming, but other
wildflowers dotted the grass, and the flat terrain had turned to gently rolling
hills. Lydia sighed with pleasure. Texas was beautiful, a place where dreams
could come true, where promises would be fulfilled. She’d been right to ignore
the advice one well-meaning woman had given her. There was no reason to turn
back. In a few hours she would be with Edgar and all her questions would be
answered.
It was not a mistake.
to be continued on the 3/28/17 Forgotten Winds stop of
the Lone Star Lit Book Blog Tour!
Amanda Cabot is the bestselling author of At Bluebonnet Lake, In Firefly Valley, and On Lone Star Trail, as well as the Texas Dreams series, the Westward Winds series, and Christmas Roses. Her books have been finalists for the ACFW Carol Awards and the Booksellers’ Best. She lives in Wyoming.
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1ST RUNNER-UP: Book + $20 Barnes & Noble Gift Card
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March 21 - April 4, 2017
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March 21 - April 4, 2017
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