By Liz Curtis Higgs
“A fantastic tale of redemption and recovery that may hot your center throughout the Christmas season—or any time of year!”
—Francine Rivers, best-selling writer of Redeeming Love
Wrapped in a cloud of steam, the engine rolled to a cease, the screech of steel opposed to steel filling the frosty air. Snow blew around the railway platform and round Meg’s calfskin jogging boots. the elements certainly used to be now not bettering.
She ordered tea with milk and sugar, eying the currant buns and candy mincemeat muffins displayed underneath a bell jar.
Later, possibly, whilst her urge for food lower back. for the time being her abdominal used to be twisted right into a knot.
“Anything else for you?” the cashier requested as she passed over the tea, steaming and fragrant.
Meg used to be shocked to discover her palms trembling while she lifted the cup. “All i would like is a secure trip home.”
“On an afternoon like this?” the round-faced girl exclaimed. “None however the Almighty can promise you that, lass.”
“A Wreath of Snow glows with heat, appeal, and charm. a superb read.”
—BJ HOFF, writer of The Riverhaven Years series
Christmas Eve 1894
All Margaret Campbell desires for Christmas is a secure trip domestic. while her plans for a festive vacation along with her family members in Stirling collapse underneath the load of her brother’s bitterness, the younger schoolteacher desires not anything greater than to come to the scholars she loves and the city apartment she calls domestic.
Then an unforeseen detour areas her within the direction of Gordon Shaw, a good-looking newspaperman from Glasgow, who struggles less than a burden of regret and disgrace.
while the key in their shared background is printed, will it go away them tangled in a knot of remorse? Or may well their previous carry the threads that might bind their destiny together?
As hot as a woolen shawl on a chilly winter’s eve, A Wreath of Snow is a young tale of affection and forgiveness, wrapped in a party of all issues Scottish, all issues Victorian, and, specifically, all issues Christmas.
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Extra resources for A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella
I pulled out my cell phone, and started to dial. ” he said with a laugh. “No. Well, I don’t go on dates—” I turned bright red at my unintentional confession. “What I mean is I don’t have to ‘report in’ or anything—” He laughed. “I’m only kidding, Ellie. ” “A ride? ” “Of course. ” I nodded happily. Michael was quiet as he helped me into his parents’ navy Prius and headed toward my house. I wondered if I’d done or said something wrong, and tried to fill the void with chatter. But Michael seemed perfectly content driving in near-silence, with one hand on the wheel and the other nearly touching mine.
He cleared his throat and turned on the water in the sink. ” “We didn’t get that far in the conversation. I felt embarrassed about not knowing who he was, even though he claimed we’d met, so I was a little rude. ” I groaned again. ” “Don’t worry about it, dearest. ” I stood up and began helping my dad with the dishes. As I handed him a rinsed plate for loading, my fingers brushed up against his arm, and it occurred to me that—for all the flashes I got when I touched people—I never got one when I touched my parents.
Until I saw her face. She looked really hurt at the thought that I might keep something from her. I would have thought that my best friend of seven years—almost like the sister I didn’t have—would know better. But Ruth was complicated. Anyone close to her could see that she was witty, smart, dependable, and intensely loyal, albeit the kind of loyal that occasionally bordered on possessiveness. But you had to get close to see all her wonderful qualities, which wasn’t easy. Ruth lost her mother to cancer when she was in first grade—only months before we met—and she was afraid to let people in, in case they left her, like her mom.
A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella by Liz Curtis Higgs