Introducing Cynthia Woolf's
CAPITAL BRIDE
Unexpectedly homeless, un-wed mother Sarah Johnson
has few options. They could go live with her cousin William, but Sara
believes there’s something untoward about his offer and it leaves her
feeling uncomfortable. She's qualified to be a governess, but no one
will have her because she wasn't married when she had her precious
MaryAnn. Matchmaker & Co could be her salvation as mail-order-bride
to Mr. John Atwood.
Single father, John Atwood, is raising his daughter the best he can in the wilds of the Colorado Territory but knows he needs help. No woman he knows wants to take on the raising of his daughter who hasn't spoken since she saw her mother brutally murdered during a bank robbery. Can Sarah, John and their two daughters overcome their pasts and find happiness together?
Single father, John Atwood, is raising his daughter the best he can in the wilds of the Colorado Territory but knows he needs help. No woman he knows wants to take on the raising of his daughter who hasn't spoken since she saw her mother brutally murdered during a bank robbery. Can Sarah, John and their two daughters overcome their pasts and find happiness together?
An Excerpt from Capital Bride
New York City April 10, 1867
On
the other side of the door was her last resort. Either this or
prostitution and prostitution was not a choice. She couldn’t raise
MaryAnn in that environment, nor if truth be told, could she lower
herself to live like that. At least this way there would be some
stability in her little girl’s life.
Sarah took a deep breath, turned the knob, and walked through the door to a better future for her daughter and, if she were lucky, for herself.
The office was small and precisely kept. A single desk with a straight, high backed wooden chair, one in front and one behind, sat in the middle of the room. She’d noticed the flowered curtains were open on the way in, curtains tied to the side. The small area was flooded with dazzling afternoon light. The walls were whitewashed and the desk well organized. There were several tables with neat piles of files along one wall. The other wall held several rows of pictures of women and men. None smiling, as that was the way pictures were taken, but all appeared to be wedding pictures. Below each picture was a small brass place with the names of the bride and groom and the date of the wedding.
A small, woman in her late thirties with fiery red hair, sat behind the desk. When Sarah got closer she saw gorgeous dark blue eyes behind the wire rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her eyes were so dark a blue they could almost be called violet. They were striking and clear, honesty shone from them along with a “no nonsense” attitude.
“May I help you?” the woman asked.
“Um. Yes. My name is Sarah Johnson. I saw your advertisement for mail order brides.”
The woman looked Sarah over, taking in her clothes, her hands clasped in front of her and ending at her face.
“First, let me introduce myself. I’m Margaret Selby and I own Matchmaker & Company. Please, sit down. You’re older than the women we usually have. You’re also better dressed and don’t appear to be hungry. What would bring someone like you to my door?”
“I’ve been living with my great aunt. She passed away suddenly two weeks ago and the lawyer says I need to find other lodgings. My cousin, William, has inherited everything except a small stipend she left for me. William is selling everything. MaryAnn and I have nowhere else to go.”
“MaryAnn?”
“My daughter.”
“So, you are a widow?”
Now was not the time to be less than truthful, if she wanted this woman’s help. “No.”
“I see. How old are you, Miss Johnson?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“And your daughter?”
“MaryAnn is five.”
“Tell me, Miss Johnson, how did you come to find yourself with child at age twenty-two without being married? Surely you knew how those things happened by that age.”
Sarah took a deep breath, turned the knob, and walked through the door to a better future for her daughter and, if she were lucky, for herself.
The office was small and precisely kept. A single desk with a straight, high backed wooden chair, one in front and one behind, sat in the middle of the room. She’d noticed the flowered curtains were open on the way in, curtains tied to the side. The small area was flooded with dazzling afternoon light. The walls were whitewashed and the desk well organized. There were several tables with neat piles of files along one wall. The other wall held several rows of pictures of women and men. None smiling, as that was the way pictures were taken, but all appeared to be wedding pictures. Below each picture was a small brass place with the names of the bride and groom and the date of the wedding.
A small, woman in her late thirties with fiery red hair, sat behind the desk. When Sarah got closer she saw gorgeous dark blue eyes behind the wire rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her eyes were so dark a blue they could almost be called violet. They were striking and clear, honesty shone from them along with a “no nonsense” attitude.
“May I help you?” the woman asked.
“Um. Yes. My name is Sarah Johnson. I saw your advertisement for mail order brides.”
The woman looked Sarah over, taking in her clothes, her hands clasped in front of her and ending at her face.
“First, let me introduce myself. I’m Margaret Selby and I own Matchmaker & Company. Please, sit down. You’re older than the women we usually have. You’re also better dressed and don’t appear to be hungry. What would bring someone like you to my door?”
“I’ve been living with my great aunt. She passed away suddenly two weeks ago and the lawyer says I need to find other lodgings. My cousin, William, has inherited everything except a small stipend she left for me. William is selling everything. MaryAnn and I have nowhere else to go.”
“MaryAnn?”
“My daughter.”
“So, you are a widow?”
Now was not the time to be less than truthful, if she wanted this woman’s help. “No.”
“I see. How old are you, Miss Johnson?”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“And your daughter?”
“MaryAnn is five.”
“Tell me, Miss Johnson, how did you come to find yourself with child at age twenty-two without being married? Surely you knew how those things happened by that age.”
Meet the Author
Cynthia
Woolf was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of
Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side
with her friends. She
worked her way through college and went to work full time straight
after graduation and there was little time to write. Then in 1990 she
and two friends started a round robin writing a story about pirates.
She found that she missed the writing and kept on with other stories.
In 1992 she joined Colorado Romance Writers and Romance Writers of
America.
In 2001, she saw an ad in the paper for a writers conference being put on by CRW and decided she'd attend. One of her favorite authors, Catherine Coulter, was the keynote speaker. Cynthia was lucky enough to have a seat at Ms. Coulter's table at the luncheon and after talking with her, decided she needed to get back to her writing. She rejoined both CRW and RWA that day and hasn't looked back.
Learn more about the author at: www.cynthiawoolf.com.
