BOOK: Sherrie Hansen's Wildflowers of Scotland Book Series

Sherrie Hansen has graciously sent me an except from Wild Rose for you to read before you buy. These delightful stories do not need to be read in order to be thoroughly enjoyed. I've already read Shy Violet and Golden Rod. I plan to read the rest of the series.

EXCERPT from WILD ROSE by Sherrie Hansen

“Ian MacCraig. St. Conan’s vicar.” The man nodded at a stone cottage with
windows rimmed in tiny stones. It was mostly overgrown with creepers. She
had assumed it was unoccupied.

She gave her hand, took his, and was surprised by his warmth. “Rose
Wilson.” Her hands had been perpetually cold ever since Robert had died.
The only reason she’d come to meet Digby in the first place was to get
warm. But holding hands with Digby didnae even compare to the heat this
man radiated. “I’m nae from Lochawe. Just up for the day from Glasgow.”

She turned just enough to get the sun out of her eyes and looked up into
his face. And started to melt. Warm times ten. Honest, intelligent eyes,
longish hair the color of butterscotch. Wide shoulders perfect for
shielding a companion. A genuine, concerned smile tinged with the
slightest whisper of what? Guilt? Her mind flipped back a page. Forgive
him for what? For startling her? For intruding on her reverie? For being
concerned enough to acknowledge her presence? To see if she was in need of
someone to talk to?
He had such a beautiful aura aboot him. So serene. So utterly masculine.
She felt like she was in a dream, or starring in a film. She resisted the
urge to pinch herself. The vicars she knew were old and gray – most, gone
completely bald.  This vicar – Ian – didnae fit any of the pastoral images
she held in her mind.

Pastor Ian’s eyes blinked wide open a split second before she felt a
movement to her left. A stream of men streaked towards them, guns drawn.
She could see them out of the corner of her eye. What the devil was going
on?

In the moment it took to comprehend that they were slowly being surrounded
by armed constables, her mind, ever agile, jumped to the conclusion that
Ian must be a convict, recently escaped. Oh – my – God. Nae doubt “Ian”
had killed the real vicar while he slept. It would have been a simple
matter from there to don the poor gent’s clothes. He was probably planning
to take her as a hostage so he could escape across the border to England,
make his exit on a ferry, and disappear on the mainland. It was the only
explanation she could fathom.

That was when she realized he was still holding her hand, smiling at her
with all the sincerity in the world. The man certainly didnae look like a
convict. Perhaps he’d come to St. Conan’s for sanctuary.

“Step away from the vicar.” A voice boomed through a megaphone.

She looked at Ian and dropped his hand, fully expecting the constables to
rush him once she’d safely backed away.
Instead, two strong arms wrenched her from behind, pulled her hands behind
her back and slapped on a set of cuffs.

“What on earth?” she said, nearly toppling over from the shock of her
capture.

Ian looked even more apologetic that he had before, with a little relief
mixed in. Forgive him for what? For this? Had he called the police on her?

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she cried. “I’m nae sure what’s going on here,
but there must be some mistake. I’m Rosalie Wilson from Glasgow,” she
tried to explain when she wasnae struggling to stay on her feet, bucking
this way and that as they pulled her over the rough terrain.

“She had nothing to do with the actual theft,” the vicar was saying,
following close at her side. “She was already gone when her man stole the
artifacts.”

Her man? Digby? What were they talking aboot? Digby wouldnae...

“Ye said she was on the tape,” the constable said.

“The earlier part, when they were...” the vicar stammered.

The man holding her cuffs snickered.

Oh, God. They couldnae have a tape of her and Digby. Could they?

“Do ye want us to call ye a solicitor?”

“No,” she said, sure of that at least. If Robert’s barristers ever found
out, or his sons, or the press...

Oh, God. How mortifying! How could she have? She’d risked Robert’s good
name, his reputation, and his millions, and for what? To feel a man’s
touch for a mere five minutes?

Amazon Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Rose-Wildflowers-Scotland-Book-ebook/dp/B00CRGA4F6/ref=sr_1_5?keywords=Sherrie+Hansen&qid=1561652901&s=digital-text&sr=1-5 

NOTE FROM CAROL

Dear Gentle Readers,

You'll get no flag waving from me today. Instead, here is a pot of get well flowers for our ailing democracy. I am an older woman. No, actually I am an old lady. I have seen this country through many trying times. Some not so good. Some bad. Some horrendous. But I have always felt a stirring of pride and delight in my country. When the national anthem is played, I stand. I place my hand over my heart. And, no matter how badly off-tune I am, I sing. 

Not today. I am disgusted with what our federal government has become, a glorified version of the Hatfields and the McCoys. I no longer want Democrats or Republicans. I want real Americans who are not in the pockets of big business and special interest groups that are in charge of my country, true statesman who understand what America represents and what justice for all means.

I want the kinder, gentler America back, the one where we lifted each other up, where we cared about education and healthcare and what's in our food and water supply, the one that cared about our planet, the one without the name calling and the bullying, without the foreign interference in our national elections who don't want any particular candidate to win, but for our democracy to lose. Remember that wonderful beacon of hope and light and justice? I do.

Big hugs,

Carol

ART: Neapolitan Italian Artist Gianni Strino

 Gianni Strino was born in Naples, Italy in 1953. He studied at the Neapolitan Artistic Lyceum and the Faculty of Architecture. 

He was raised in a local community that loved art and thought it was an admirable and thriving career.

Gianni Strino is considered to be one of the major representatives of modern Neapolitan art movement.

 He is most noted as a figure painter for his ability to paint in depths.







His figures are beautifully rendered, almost coming to life as you gaze upon them.

Here are some links to follow Gianni and learn more about him: 

http://www.facebook.com/giannistrino

http://www.giannistrino.it/

Top 50 Indie Writers

Link:
https://calebandlinda
pirtle.com/carol-ann-kauffman-one-top-50-indie-writers-need-reading/

Dear Readers,

Can you believe this? I have been named to the Top 50 Indie Writers You need To Be Reading List!

I am surprised and pleased and thrilled and amazed to be included in this group of outstanding and talented writers.

Big thanks to Caleb and Linda Pirtle who devise and maintain this list. I am grateful.

Big Hugs,

Carol

BOOK: New Book Release - July Fireworks Sky

BIG NEWS TODAY!

July Fireworks Sky

is released today!!!

The seventh in the serial story of Cat Collier, a small-town girl who opens her own investigation service in the sleepy little town of Heaton Valley in Northeast Ohio.

In July Fireworks Sky, the seventh book in the Cat Collier Mystery Short Story series, private investigator Mary Catherine Collier, known as Cat, finds herself in a disturbing, life-altering situation related to her brother’s trial. The outcome will have far reaching effects for not only herself, but Carter, Spencer, and others.

The location for this cozy mystery bounces back and forth from her quiet, sleepy hometown of Heaton Valley, Ohio to New York City, where Cat has another branch of her detective agency and a wonderful, new love. 

Will Cat finally find the honesty she’s looking for? 

Amazon Buy Link:  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07TCD63G5/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0

But wait! Read an excerpt before you buy:

Chapter One 

Clearly No Carter

My cell phone rang. It was the delightful Spencer Paxton.

“Good morning,” he said warmly. I could hear him smile. I could see his sweet smile in my mind’s eye. “Welcome back to Cardinal Park. We all missed you. Was it a rough flight in this morning?”

“Yes, it was a bumpy ride through the storm. But we made it,” I answered.

“We?”

“Yes, I brought Nola with me to work on the Tenants vs. Miller Apartment Complex case. We finally got a preliminary hearing date next week. I need to be ready. I need a fresh viewpoint on this one. Nola has an eye for detail.”

“I hope you guys never decide to gang up on me.”

“As long as I’m your only tenant, I think you’re safe.” 

“Would you like to come up and have lunch with me today? Say around 1:00? You can bring Nola. You can bring Skamp, too, if you want. I’ll send down the elevator.”

“Matteo has lunch with his grandmother every day. She looks forward to some private time with her grandson. Besides, he’s afraid of you. But Nola and I would love to come up for lunch. See you soon.”

“Soon,” said Spencer. Again, I heard the smile.

***

“That’s her little gentleman friend on the phone,” said Cat’s New York assistant Matteo Skampotti. “I can tell by her smile. Have you ever meet him yet?” 

Nola shook her head no. 

“I’ve seen him, but never actually spoke to him. Blond guy. Kind of short. A little skittish, but he seems very nice. 

“He’s good for her,” continued Matteo. “He sends her flowers, phones her during the day, and makes her smile. She’s forgetting about that stupid idiot who treated her so badly. What a damn shithead he must be. She’s laughing more. She’s making jokes. I think she’s happy, much happier now than when she first came to Cardinal Park.”

***

“Nola, I think I’ll call Jean Houston to see if she’ll come over and help us sew up this case. This isn’t her field, but she has a sharp, legal mind.”

“Will she tell Carter?”

“No. She can keep a confidence.”

“So can I, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“I didn’t tell Carter where to find you.”

“I know you didn’t. I don’t know how he found me.”

“I do. He said he saw you get in a cab at the airport. He had his cab follow you here. They almost lost you twice speeding down the street. Classic car chase excitement. He told Detrick all about it while I acted like a disinterested third party.”

I changed the subject. Normally the tale of taxi cab chasing taxi cab frantically through the crowded streets of New York City in an attempt to reunite separated lovers would have sent my heart racing. But not today.

“By the way, we’ve been invited to Spencer’s apartment for lunch. Want to go?”

“Sure.”

“Before we go upstairs, I have to tell you a little about Spencer Paxton?”

“Is he cute? Is he rich?”

“He’s complicated.”

“So he’s not cute. And he’s not rich.”

“Be serious. He has issues.”

“Is this like a ‘Don’t stare at his giant hump’ issue?”

“No.”

“Visible third eye?”

“No.  He’s a hermit.”

“So a hermit in New York City invited us up to his apartment for lunch. Are we on the menu?”

“I said hermit, not cannibal. Will you cut it out? He’s very sweet. And I like him. I like him a whole lot. Let’s go.”

***

Nelson ushered us into the dining room. The table was set for four. 

“Please be seated, ladies. Mr. Paxton will be out momentarily. Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Nola and I said in unison.

Nelson left the room.

“Are things always so formal around her?” asked Nola. “Look at those beautiful beveled glass windows.  This tray ceiling is gorgeous. Oh, my goodness, I love this china! It’s so beautiful. I feel like I’m having lunch at Downton Abbey, but with just us and the butler sneaking us into the dining room.”

“Well, there she is,” said Spencer as he crossed the room to give me a warm hug. “I missed you.” He gave me a soft squeeze. “And this must be Miss White. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. Welcome to my home,” Spencer extended a hand to Nola.

Nola shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Paxton.”

“Call me Spencer, please.”

“Nola,” Nola smiled.

Nelson carried in a tray of salads and bread sticks and sat it in the center of the table. Then he sat down across from Nola.

“Nola White, this is Paul Nelson.” 

Nelson nodded. 

“So tell me, Nola, is this your first visit to New York City?” asked Spencer as he passed the salads.

“Yes.”

“Don’t judge the whole city by our little neighborhood,” said Nelson. “We’ve seen better days. Much better days. Are you originally from Ohio, too, Nola?” 

“No. I’m from Pennsylvania. An employment placement service sent me to Heaton Valley for a job interview as office manager for Steel Man Trucking. I got the job and ended up staying there.”

“How long are you in town?” asked Nelson.

“Only for the day. I came to help Cat with a local case.”

“We have some great museums in the area. Maybe the next time you come to town, you can stay a little longer. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Why, thank you, Paul,” said Nola. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Mary Catherine prefers a light lunch on days she’s busy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not a picky eater. I eat cupcakes right out of the plastic container. Yes, a big lunch puts Cat to sleep. Lunch here, no matter what, is a treat. You have a lovely apartment, Spencer.”

“Thank you,” Spencer answered with a smile.

***

“So, Nola, what do you think of Spencer?” I asked.  

“He’s a sweet, little man. He’s obviously taken with you. He didn’t take his eyes off you once,” said Nola. “He gives you that ‘I’m obviously interested in you’ look. I don’t get any bad vibes from him or anything. He’s not a serial killer with dead bodies stuffed in plastic bags stashed behind that beautiful wood paneling. He seems safe enough.”

“However?” I added. I knew there was more she wanted to say.

“But he’s clearly no Carter Larsen. You can’t possibly be romantically interested in him after what you had with Carter. Child, what’s the matter with you?”

“I am romantically interested in him. I’m growing fonder of him every day. He doesn’t simply tell me what he thinks I want to hear. It’s not all sweet talk and hot hormones. He doesn’t have that magic touch that makes me forget what I’m thinking or how to think or what my name is. He’s willing and able to talk things out. He’s mature. He’s an adult. He’s honest with me.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s it. He’s honest. And he also doesn’t have the gorgeous underwear model ex-girlfriend Yvette who’s still hung up on him. In fact, for the last ten years, I’m guessing Mr. Butterfly Cups has had no girlfriend at all. So, he can’t cheat on you with his ex.”

“Well, I guess that’s a possibility.” I rubbed my head to shake away Nola’s logic. “But when I’m with Carter, I can’t think straight. I see him, I hear him talk, and I’m carried away on some hormonally dense love-lust cloud machine. All I want is to be with him. Nothing else matters.”

“What’s the matter with hormones? Our species would have died out by now if it weren’t for those hormones.”

“Don’t dislike Spencer, Nola.”

“Oh, I don’t dislike him, but I think you’re seeing qualities in little Mr. Spencer Paxton that aren’t really there. He’s a nice, older gentleman. He has very good manners. A gorgeous, old apartment. And beautiful china. That’s it. Oh, God, you aren’t sleeping with him, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Not yet.”

Schedule for July 1 - 5, 2019

 Schedule

Mon., July 1 - BOOK: New Book Release

July Fireworks Sky, A Cat Collier Mystery

by Carol Ann Kauffman

Tues., July 2 - NOTE FROM CAROL:

Top 50 Indie Book List

Wed., July 3 - ART: Italian Artist

Gianni Strino

Thurs., July 4 - NOTE FROM CAROL:

The Fourth of July in American 2019

Fri., July 5 - BOOK: Sherrie Hansen's 

Wildflowers of Scotland Series