How hard is it to trademark a phrase? These days, I feel like I may as well start making some merch for my new brand name, Perpetual Exhaustion. (I’m starting to think this may be a really good idea. Please don’t steal it from me. I kind of want a t-shirt now.)
I feel like adult life is pretty tiring as it is. I wake up, get myself and kids ready for school/work, go to school/work all day, then I come home, clean, make dinner, eat dinner, work some more (either grading or writing), and then sleep. It’s a lot of work, but somehow it works. See how that works? đ
But there are other things that make everything seem even more exhausting. I’m not even going to name all the things because that would mean opening a gargantuan can of worms, and I haven’t the time to clean that up, but I will name a few.
The seasons changed, and daylight savings time happened, so I see the sun for a total of about twenty minutes a day now. (Because I’m indoors working most of the daylight hours.) I miss the sun. The lack of authentic Vitamin D makes me feel more exhausted. (I do take a nice Vitamin D supplement with Vitamin K my therapist recommended, so don’t worry too much.)
It’s the end of the quarter for my day job (teaching), so that means I have months of late and missing assignments streaming in along with frantic emails from students begging me to make exceptions despite my policies and repeated reminders about the end of the quarter coming and when deadlines would be.
I found out I need a little bit o’ dental surgery, so my already hectic schedule will be compounded with me being all drugged up and loopy for a couple days, although I am looking forward to the videos of the ridiculous things I say and do whilst drugged up.
My son is in a super-cute phase right now where the moment something doesn’t go his way, he throws himself on the floor and screams. He’s four. And this happens approximately twenty times a day. (We’re working on this…We’re trying to teach him to take deep breaths when he gets mad and to talk about it when he’s frustrated. Having big feelings is okay but yelling at everyone and squeezing your sister’s head is not, etc.)
What was my point again?
Oh yeah. I’m tired.
But I still signed myself up for NaNoWriMo, and I am determined to hit my goal. It’s going to get pieced together in the little moments I have nights and weekends between grading and cooking and cleaning and tantrums and surgeries.
Despite my exhaustion, I have this flame burning inside me that just won’t go out, and even though I can’t think of a clever name for it right now, it’s a flame that insists on me reaching my goals, no matter how long it may take and despite my perpetual exhaustion (patent pending).
For over a decade, I have made a living as a teacher. I teach middle and high school English and Spanish classes, and I teach online college classes as well. Although there are definitely challenges (especially the last few months of the most recent school year), I love it (almost all the time). I have always liked the predictable nature of standard employment. I know how much my paycheck will be, when it will come, the duties that are expected of me. I have systems in place for student participation, in-class activities, turning in and passing back work, grading work, filing, etc. It’s comfortable. Even though each year, each class brings individual circumstances and challenges, I am confident in my knowledge of the content and my ability to work with my students.
Working for myself as an author is a WHOLE other thing.
I have discovered that I am not a very good employee. I am inconsistent, I often miss my self-imposed deadlines, goals, and expectations. I get distracted. I often find myself down some “rabbit hole” instead of working on what I tasked myself with.
The distractions come in many forms. I’m tempted to make a pie chart, but that would take even more time away from my intended task. (I am supposed to be working on my layout for my paperback of my second book right now…) I can group my distractions into two categories: useful/productive and outright-waste-of-time. For example, writing a blog post is what I would call a productive distraction. It gives me some introspection, and it provides engagement with my audience (both actual and hypothetical). It is something I can pass off as building my brand, and anything that is in the service of my writing career is productive, right? (I’m telling myself yes.)
I currently have about 23 browser tabs open. 19 tabs are professional development (articles or videos instructing on some aspect of writing or self-publishing, my website, newsletter, market research, etc.) One is the music I am listening to (some might consider that productive?), and two are from me going down a rabbit hole researching a singer who came up on my Pandora. In case you are curious, Vanessa Carlton IS still making music, studied ballet before pursuing a music career, and recently released a music video which demonstrates her dancing skill. Her song “A Thousand Miles” reminds me of a guy I dated in high school because he would sing along animatedly when it came on in the car. I digress, but such is the nature of the rabbit hole.
My brain and attention bounce around between these things in addition to my other responsibilities. Since I started this, I took an excursion with my four year old so he could show me his “tree house” (which was actually the play set we have in our yard), helped him find my husband because he got an owie only daddy could handle, and took a picture of my daughter who made a pea-pod smile.
Anyway, the point is, I am (and forever will be) still learning so much about this business of self publishing. I have so many ideas that I can’t wait to get to. I feel excited about my stories and my characters. I am excited to find my audience, and I hope they will be entertained by what I write. I hope I will make them feel things. I am seeing it on a small scale right now. I love when I see someone has liked or followed me here, when someone happens to stumble upon my books on Amazon and makes a purchase. A friend of mine borrowed a copy of Into the Night, and she read it in a day and then gave it to her mom, who also read it in a day and immediately bought the second book. That’s a great feeling! I fantasize about when such things will happen on a larger scale. I feel a great amount of passion and excitement for all these things, and yet, I find myself distracted by Netflix, Candy Crush, reading books (which I call research, of course…), and other things that are legitimate and good (playing outside with my kids, going for walks, etc.)
My inconsistent work ethic may postpone me reaching my self-imposed deadlines and the overall finish line where I hope to make a career doing this, but I don’t see it stopping me. There’s always that flame flickering inside me. It is what brings me back to my computer, to my research, to my writing, and though I look forward to reaching some kind of finish line (I have a few in mind), I am not going to let the pressure of those long term goals stop me from enjoying my current, random, haphazard journey.
So, I won’t fire myself as an employee, and I know my employee won’t quit. She wants the job too badly.
I love when I read a book in which the characters, both good and bad, get what’s coming to them. Reforming Lord Neil by Sally Britton is a heart-warming regency novel, which left me feeling comfortably sated in my desire for a happy ending. Not only did the novel tie up each of its strings in a pleasing manner, it even went a little above and beyond, providing more comeuppance and satisfaction than I anticipated. I love to be surprised in that way.
The novel begins by showing us the unfortunate circumstances which have led to the seemingly-troublesome Lord Neil being cast out of his home and family, losing the benefits of fortune and title he was accustomed to. Surprisingly, this seems a mere annoyance to the man who was not-too-unhappy to get out from under his family’s thumb. In trying to find a place without aid from those who reveal themselves to care nothing about him without his family, he stumbles across Mrs. Henry Clapham (Teresa) along with her mother and daughter. A symbiotic, business-like partnership is formed to enable him to have a roof over his head, even if it is a barn roof, and for her to have some much-needed help.
Of course, as a romance, we all know where this is going.
As the story is woven, the characters grow in their fondness for one another right along with the reader. I found myself growing more attached to each of them and their outcomes with each page and spend the better part of a day losing myself in their world. Britton does well conveying a sweet tale along with accurate elements of the past to keep the story and the reader firmly planted in the early 1800’s.
Being the fifth book in a series (Inglewood), strings threaded through connecting the current main character to previous installments. This was done in a way that was subtle and engaging, without being redundant or pulling the reader out of the story.
The growing feelings between Neil and Teresa were (appropriately) tantalizing and tortuous, just as they should be. If you are a fan of clean regency romance, I highly recommend this and its accompanying series. In preparation, you should prepare yourself some tea and finger cakes. Enjoy!
It happened, folks. I (virtually) attended my first writing conference.
Don’t panic. I have read, researched, and studied voraciously over the last couple years to hone my craft. I’ve read blogs, how-to books, read, read, read, and read some more, discussed with other authors I know, etc. I felt pretty good about how much I learned through those methods.
It almost feels like I have been “sipping” the writing craft thus far, taking in a little at a time as I could manage. From The Storymakers Conference, I feel like I chugged a full mug, and the rest of the 2-liter still sits before me (in the form of video recordings of the courses I haven’t watched yet).
I came away from what I’ve learned so far with a HUGE increase in motivation to write, plot, chart, organize, design, and more. There were certainly also some moments of panic and “I seriously don’t know what I’m doing compared to so-and-so,” BUT the majority of my impressions were overwhelmingly positive.
From my interactions on social media (mainly twitter @dawn_ludlow), I already knew the writing community was INCREDIBLY kind and supportive. But all my interactions were digital and distant (other than the few writers I know personally, the ones I used to go to camp with or play sports with), and it is a whole ‘nother ball game to see them face-to-face.
Some of them used to be JUST-LIKE-ME! It was crazy how many of them now have 10, 20, 100 books published who say they started with just one or two books 2-20 years ago.
When all was said and done, it essentially left me feeling like this:
My arc is not the same as anyone else’s. I am writing stories that SOMEONE (hopefully, a lot of someones) want to read. I just have to help them find me, and I have to make sure I have the BEST possible book waiting for them when they come. (For the record, the one I already have out is pretty great… Just saying.)
I am excited to keep getting better and better while I wait for the rest of the world to find me.
In the last few weeks, there have been many times when I thought about doing another post here. Each time I had some reason not to. Work, kids, exhaustion, repeat. I work a couple jobs to feed my addictions to shelter and food, so free time is limited. Nonetheless, I normally have been able to find the time to maintain activity here and on my social media page(s).
This last month, something really put a hitch in that. I am not able to pinpoint exactly what it was that broke my brain, but there were a few weeks there where I could barely manage those things I have to do such as meet expectations at my jobs, keep my children alive, and keep my house just below hoarders levels. Once I was done with all that, I couldn’t get myself to do much else.
Even though the first few weeks of this lock down further complicated and stressed me out, it seems to have reached some kind of equilibrium where my brain will now allow me to think and process again, so I’m back!
After the aforementioned month of struggle, I am finally able to make tangible process on my WIPs, and I once again feel like I may be able to do this writing thing. As I have posted before, I don’t think I will “quit” until I reach my goals, but I took an unexpected respite and now feel motivated to catch myself back up.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have about 1,000 words of nonsensical notes to turn into readable content I can add to the sequel to Into the Night: Resurrection: Lost Love. Wish me luck!
It has been a LOOOONG time since I read a book that had me so hooked, I literally couldn’t put it down. There have been books that I read pretty non-stop to read in a day or two, but I would say this is the first book in about a decade that made it so I literally could not sleep until I found out the end.
The Memory of Us by Camille Di Maio follows the story of two young people from different worlds and on entirely different paths who find one another and, you guessed it, fall in love.
This book had so many interwoven details, characters, and side story lines, I was constantly on the edge of my seat wanting to know how they would all turn out. There are several times when it seems impossible that the characters will get what you want them to have, and the wait to find out was tortuously satisfying.
While reading this book, at different times I felt excited, elated, angry, shocked, heartbroken, and more! I realize I am being pretty vague, but I truly hope you go and read this book now, and I don’t want to rob you of any of the twists and turns provided.
The day after I stayed up half the night reading it, I couldn’t help buy tell my students about this great book I read, and I agree with what they said. Someone should make a movie out of this!
I am tempted to not give a perfect review because I’m a little bitter about some of the ways the book broke my heart, but I have decided not to blame the book for that. It was so well done, I can forgive it. If you like World War II and World War II adjacent historical fiction and feeling so strongly about characters and plot that they rip your guts out, then this is a book for you. Two enthusiastic thumbs up!
This week, I finalized the design of the cover for the second book in the Lancaster’s Love Series! I find it so inspiring to have my rough ideas perfected and made real by my wonderful book cover designer over at Red Leaf Book Design.
She doesn’t pay me or otherwise incentivize me to talk about her, but I do because she is amazing. (IF by some magic you end up heading her way and using her for one of YOUR books, tell her to let me know. Again, I will emphasize that I have no incentive to do so, but I would be very interested to find out if an author read my blog and found her as a result of that. It would just be fun.)
I am SO tempted to just show the cover right here, right now, but I want to build some suspense. For anyone who hasn’t read or finished the first one, I don’t want to ruin the surprise by showing you the second one, at least until we are closer to its publish date. (TBA-The date itself isn’t decided, but we are looking at a spring release!)
I WILL show you the updated cover for the first book!
For reference: Here is the original cover.
Into the Night: A Titanic Romance-Cover Version 1
Beautiful, right? I know! I love it, and I was totally happy with it, but…
Here’s another reason why I’m gushing about my designer. While she was working on the Book Two cover, she got an idea for Into the Night and tweaked it a bit without me even asking or mentioning anything. I didn’t know I could love it any more until I saw THIS ONE:
Into the Night: A Titanic Romance-Cover Version 2
I don’t know if this will catch your interest or if it will just annoy you, but I AM going to show you a tiny snippet of the cover for Book Two.
I am feeling very turtley lately. I follow other authors and belong to various author groups on various web sites and social media platforms. I have been lurking in their midst for quite some time, absorbing as much as I can, learning and growing with them, or at least near them, I suppose. For a couple years, everything was hypothetical, and I could only imagine how things would go for me. That was, until I published my own novel last month.
Now, I have my own charts and numbers and such. It is no longer hypothetical. Of course, my first few sales were friends and family, but after the first couple days, sales were coming in from whomever and who-knows-where. I’m still fresh enough to the author game that I was thrilled to see that people who had no obligation to buy my book were buying it! I even got a couple reviews! Magical!
I still marvel at the fact that there are people out there who are willing to pay to read something I wrote. The words on the page were merely an idea, and those ideas grew and grew until it became a book, a book that I thought would be one book and then grew to a series in my mind! It still amazes me. When I think of it that way, I feel on top of the world.
You may be wondering why on earth I mentioned the other authors and author groups. Well, here’s why. Those wonderful people who are kind enough to share their thoughts, insights, successes, failures, etc… There are quite a few hares in there!
I in no way mean to imply that they are “hares” in the sense that I will eventually defeat them (Mwahahaha-no). I mean that there are some amazing people out there who broke the mold and had amazing success right out of the gate, while I am still turtling way behind them.
It is hard not to feel jealous. I find myself wondering what I did wrong, what I should have done, if I should shell out money for this or that or the other. For better or worse, I just don’t want to do more than what I’m doing now. For my circumstances, I feel like I am actually doing pretty darn well!
I work two jobs, I have three kids, those kids have activities, my husband has a business and is a full-time student. We have a LOT going on. And yet, I have managed to finish one book, I’m almost done with the second, and I have a good start on the third. That’s not even including the fifteen blurbs and short drafts I have for other books that pop into my mind while I am trying to work on one of the other ones.
I may not be a hare. It may take me FOREVER and a day to reach that finish line. (I’m not even sure what the finish line is for me…) But, I stood by for years watching people on the course (yeah, I’m hanging onto this metaphor for dear life), wishing I could be out there with them, telling myself I couldn’t (due to the aforementioned plate full of responsibilities), until one day I decided to stop letting myself stop myself and just DO it.
So, whoever is reading this out there in cyberland, I am writing to tell you that I am still here (I was really tempted to say “still hare,” but that would be confusing because I just explained how un-hare-like I am.) I work on my craft one way or another every, single day, and I have no intention of stopping. It may take me ten years and twenty books to reach the level of success that others are able to accomplish with one book, but that’s fine. I have at least that many ideas rolling around my head right now. So, keep watching (please), folks. It’s a-comin’. It may be at a turtle’s pace, but it’s coming!
I had so much work to do this week, I haven’t been able to get any reading done. I had over 90 assignments that I was going to try to get graded today… but then there was a pretty nasty wind storm which knocked out my power for eight hours (no internet, and I live in a place with lousy data service as well), so I read a book instead! (And played with my kids and dealt with this):
I downloaded When We Believed in Mermaids by Barbara O’Neal from Kindle Unlimited. The cover really drew my eye. First of all, I’m a sucker for purple, also MERMAIDS!
I quickly ascertained that this wasn’t any fairy tale or childish book of any kind. The story was painful and complex. Though I haven’t personally lived through the exact traumas the characters did, I found it extremely relatable to my own traumas. I particularly appreciated how the author, over the course of the story, was able to slowly show the reader that people can develop flaws from traumatic experience. People don’t necessarily make poor choices merely because they want to make poor choices. We are a combination of the things that happen to us and our reactions to them. We don’t all respond well.
A couple messages that really resonated with me were, it is possible to miss someone, love someone, and also be angry with them, resent them, and not be able to completely forgive them (right away, anyway). This is something that can be difficult to put into words, but I felt the author did well showing how this can manifest for different characters. It made me think about elements from my childhood where one of my siblings seemed fine at the time while others spiraled and how the trauma has revealed itself in different ways at different times. (Some people, I’m still kind of waiting for an eruption, but maybe they are just better-adjusted than I am.)
Another aspect that really got to me was how complex love can be. I found it fascinating how each character showed and felt love differently. I spent quite a bit of time in therapy trying to understand why certain people in my life don’t love me (or demonstrate their love) how I wish they would. PTSD is a real thing, folks, and people can get it from all sorts of things, and sometimes it makes it so people don’t have the capacity to care for others, even if they have the desire.
I loved the evolution of characters, and I loved that even though there are some pretty dark elements in this book, I still ended up with a hopeful, warm and fuzzy feeling that I love to have at the end of a book. Yes, I do want a happy ending ALL THE TIME. You do you, but that’s basically a requirement for me. You can rip my heart out a few times throughout the book, but you better give me some fuzzies by the end.
This book teaches a bit about the importance of self-advocating, protecting those who need it, and accepting the flaws of others even if you don’t understand them. Warning: There is a fair amount of steaminess involved (if you know what I mean ;), so be prepared for that.) I’m going to give this 4.6 out of 5 stars. I also cried approximately three times, if that helps.
Last night, I clicked the button to publish my first novel through KDP. This book represents almost two years of pondering, planning, writing, revising, sleepless nights, and many cups of cocoa. I got the idea for this novel in pieces. When I started, it was a plan for one book. It turned into three.
Into the Night: A Titanic Romance is the first book in The Lancaster’s Love series. I love my novel and my characters. I can only hope that some people out there will love them as well.
With that in mind, I would like to share the first chapter with you. If you like it, please check out my book on Amazon.
Chapter 1
Southampton, December 17, 1911, 6:00 pm
It never occurred to Diana to have high hopes for her life. Too much disappointment had already plagued her youth. She had learned the way to happiness was to have low expectations.
After losing her mother unexpectedly as a young girl, her emotions had been dulled. This evening would bring excitement to most twenty-three-year-old girls, but Diana was disinterested in the dancing, decorum, and conversation that were to come.
She half-heartedly looked at her reflection in the mirror as her ladyâs maid, Bethany, put the final touches on her hair and gown. She knew she looked the part of a young lady. Her fatherâs fortune could ensure she looked the part.
She studied her gown in the mirror. It was a stunning dress. The blue, floor-length gown did bring out her features. The gold trim looked well against her olive-toned skin, and the shimmery, blue overlay sparkled along with her deep, hazel-blue eyes in the lamplight.
Her interest was briefly piqued as she saw Bethany pull out some dangly, sapphire earrings she hadnât seen before and fastened them to her ears.
âYour father has spared no expense for you tonight, Miss,â Bethany said. âI do say you will be the finest lady at the party this evening.â
Diana gave her a reassuring but empty smile. Diana knew it really didnât matter how lovely she looked that evening. The deal was already as good as done.
As the only child of a wealthy doctor in Southampton, England, Diana was considered a very eligible lady. However, due to her fatherâs condition, she and her father had decided it would be most prudent for her to find a match that would take her away from a place where she had met so much sadness.
The house in which she lived was full of memories of the mother she had loved and lost, and before too long, it would be empty. She knew she didnât want to stay here alone, so her father had made the necessary inquiries and arrangements to find her a suitor in the States to give her a fresh start.
Diana was still absently gazing at the reflection of her fineries in the mirror when she heard a light rapping on her door.
âDiana, dear. Are you ready?â her father asked as he cautiously entered the room.
Her fatherâs presence brought a genuine smile to her face. âYes, father. Nearly done,â she replied. Though she was not thrilled with the circumstances of tonightâs party, she knew it was done for her, and she was grateful.
Andrew Lancaster was not a traditional father. Many of his peers would not care about the desires of their daughter when choosing her husband, but as Andrew and Diana had drawn closer in their loneliness after the loss of Desiree, her mother and his wife, they developed a somewhat unique relationship of mutual respect. So, rather than unceremoniously shipping her off to her new husband, he had insisted she have the opportunity to meet him beforehand to give herself time to adjust to the idea of becoming Mrs. Thomas McCloud.
Also taking her feelings into account, he thought meeting him in the midst of a social gathering might help as it would be easier for her to find excuses to break away if she needed to.
Andrew waited as Bethany twisted the final jewel into Dianaâs auburn-brown hair and took her leave of them. âGood evening, sir,â she said as she quickly curtsied and hurried out of the room.
Andrew turned his gaze fully to his daughter. There was no hiding the adoration in his eyes. âYou look just like your mother,â he said as he appraised her. âYou know, your mother was considered a great beauty in her youth. Iâm still quite sure she only married me for my money, as there is no other way I could have gotten such a woman to accept me,â he said. He often used humor to try to dissolve the heightened emotions he felt.
Diana smiled and rolled her eyes. She was sure her parents had loved each other madly. Though she didnât have many memories of her mother, the ones she did have were of her parents leaning close together at meals, parties, and behind closed doors as a young Diana spied on them through a crack in the door. She could see her motherâs face beaming with joy when her father would whisper in her ear. She could hear her mother and fatherâs laughter still echoing in the walls of the house. âOh, father. You know quite well that even though she married you for your money, she enjoyed the marriage because of your wit,â she replied.
Andrewâs expression turned more serious as he grabbed both her hands and turned her to face him. âYou know, Diana, you can change your mind at any time. We can figure something else out if you arenât comfortable with this.â She knew he was terrified she would resent him for all this. Which was ridiculous. He certainly didnât intend to become ill, and she knew he would be plagued with worry for the remainder of his days, however long that would be, if he wasnât sure there would be someone to care for her.
âFather,â Diana was sure to steady her voice to sound resolute, âI am content with the match. I have always wanted to go on an adventure, and I canât think of a greater one than venturing to a new world to start a new life. And as I will be wed to the son of a dear friend of yours, I am quite confident that if Thomas doesnât see to my happiness, I can just tattle on him to the senior Mr. McCloud, and he will be sure to take care of it.â As she spoke she lovingly placed her hands on either side of his face and stared him solidly in the eyes as she spoke so he would know of her sincerity.
Her words were entirely true. She was content with the match.
She had never been a particularly romantic person, so why wouldnât Thomas do as well as any other man?
Diana knew the conversation could easily take a much more depressing turn, so in anticipation of that and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, she moved toward the door with her grip still on one of her fatherâs hands. âWe must be sure to be ready for when the guests arrive. We canât have them thinking we donât know how to throw a proper party,â she said as she pulled her teary-eyed father through the door.
They couldnât both fall apart. So tonight, Diana would be the level-headed one.
Diana sat in the parlor as people stirred around her. The ornate room seemed to glitter and glow as the wine and brandy glasses shuffled about the room. The lantern light shone off each glass along with a generous amount of jewelry adorning the men and women in the room. Barrettes, bracelets, rings, and cufflinks, all particularly crafted to demonstrate the wealth of their owner. She subtly rolled her eyes as she thought of the pointless extravagance around her.
As so many milled about, she watched their faces. She could see the excitement, the longing, the joy, and the hope. All of these people had something to look forward to. Romances, acquisitions, adventures, whatever they liked. She couldnât relate.
Her fatherâs house wasnât normally so full of people. They technically belonged in this world based on their social stature, but like her, her father wasnât interested in performing for the benefit of others. It was normally just the two of them. Both were content in the silence of an empty home.
Diana had been raised in this society, and therefore knew very well how to navigate it. She knew how to talk and carry herself in an elegant party. The fact of the matter was, she just really preferred not to. She would prefer to be left alone with her thoughts, to read a book, or perhaps to take a walk with someone she trusted, like her best friend, Noelle.
Most of the time, her wish was granted. Due to being an only child and her fatherâs busy schedule, she was often alone.
Though Diana and her father lived in the same house, they often only saw each other in passing. When he wasnât at the hospital or making house calls, he was in his study logging his findings or continuing his research. It was comforting to her. Even though they often passed hours without speaking to each other, she knew he was there. And she knew he would always come to her aid should the need arise.
There had rarely been a need before now.
She needed a husband. And she needed one soon.
Her fatherâs illness created a greater sense of urgency than would be the case for a girl of only twenty-three. As a doctor, her father knew they were running out of time to get his affairs in order. Because of his fortune, partially earned and partially inherited from his father, they knew it wouldnât be hard to find a husband for Diana, especially if it was known how desperate the situation was. There were plenty who would be more than happy to inherit Andrew Lancasterâs fortune and tolerate his daughter in the process. But it was important to Diana that whomever she married did not do so out of pity or merely for her fortune. Thankfully, no one other than Diana and her father knew of the circumstances. He had a kind, loyal, and more importantly, discreet doctor over his own care who could be trusted to keep this a secret. If it were common knowledge, his competitors in business would surely jump at the chance to use this information to undermine his reliability with his customers, or worse, he would be looked on with pity. That couldnât happen.
Despite his immense love and adoration for his daughter, he knew his business and property could not pass to his female heir. He needed to make sure she was settled before he died, so he could leave everything to her husband.
Only a select few knew the real purpose of this party. Andrew had found a suitable prospect for her. As she had no romantic notions, she agreed to the arrangement with little hesitation. There had been a few letters exchanged over the last few months.
From those, Diana had ascertained Thomas was clever, well-educated, and had a passable sense of humor. There had been no red flags from the letters or from the reports she and her father had gotten from Thomasâs father and a few of her fatherâs contacts in the States. By all accounts he was a nice, albeit a bit bland, young man.
Other than fleeting crushes she had as a child, she had never fallen in love or anything near it. The odds of her marrying for love were miniscule anyway, so she had made up her mind that she may as well marry for convenience.
If nothing else, she cared for her father, and she knew his mind would never be at rest if he didnât know she would be cared for after his passing.
These and other thoughts occupied her mind as she sat in an armchair in the corner of the study. She felt bored with the charade of this Christmas party. Yes, she loved the holiday, but never had she felt the need to share it with fifty quasi-strangers in her home.
It was all a cover to make the meeting of her suitor less uncomfortable and to put less pressure on her.
She had always been a quiet girl. In her earlier years, the boys she grew up with barely noticed her. Sure, they had occasionally pulled at her braids or whispered sweetly into her ears when they had no other occupation to keep themselves busy, but it never lasted long as there would always be another girl: prettier, more charming, or wealthier to pull their interest.
She looked up and noticed her father waving his fingers at her to get her attention.
She met his eyes and nodded in acknowledgement. It was now time for her to do her duty. It was time to meet her future husband in the flesh.
Dawn Ludlow 