One Dress.A tale of faith, redemption, and timeless love.Charlotte owns a chic Birmingham bridal boutique. Dressing brides for their big day is her gift . . . and her passion. But with her own wedding day approaching, why can't she find the perfect dress...or feel certain she should marry Tim?Then Charlotte discovers a vintage dress in a battered trunk at an estate sale. It looks brand-new-shimmering with pearls and satin, hand-stitched and timeless in its design. But where did it come from? Who wore it? Who welded the lock shut and tucked the dog tags in that little sachet? Who left it in the basement for a ten-year-old girl? And what about the mysterious man in the purple vest who insists the dress had been "redeemed."Charlotte's search for the gown's history-and its new bride-begins as a distraction from her sputtering love life. But it takes on a life of its own as she comes to know the women who have worn the dress. Emily from 1912. Mary Grace from 1939. Hillary from 1968. Each with her own story of promise, pain, and destiny. And each with something unique to share. For woven within the threads of the beautiful hundred-year-old gown is the truth about Charlotte's heritage, the power of courage and faith, and the timeless beauty of finding true love.

    A half-share in her father's Maine farmhouse is the only refuge she has left, even if her resentful stepmother treats Mara as little more than a servant. But there is one bright spot: the unexpected kindness of neighbor Gideon Jakeman.A widowed farmer with a teenage daughter, Gideon hardly pictures himself as anyone's Prince Charming. Especially a woman of Mara's refinement. Yet his quiet, rugged strength makes her feel as though she's found her rightful place by his side, if they can find faith enough to forge their own happy ending.

    She feels like a castaway, set adrift on the tides of fate by the deaths of her parents and left wanting answers. Now living with her parson uncle and his parsimonious wife in North Cornwall, Laura is viewed as an outsider even as she yearns to belong somewhere again.When ships sink, wreckers scour the shore for valuables, while Laura searches for clues to the lives lost. She has written letters to loved ones and returned keepsakes to rightful owners. She collects seashells and mementos, and when a man is washed ashore, she collects him too.As Laura and a neighbor care for the castaway, the mystery surrounding him grows. He has abrasions and a deep cut that looks suspiciously like a knife wound, and he speaks in careful, educated English, yet his accent seems odd. Other clues wash ashore, and Laura soon realizes he is not who he seems to be. Their attraction grows, and while she longs to return the man to his rightful home, evidence against him mounts. With danger pursuing them from every side, will Laura ever find the answers and love she seeks?

    Her childhood sweetheart taught her to ride bareback and shoot a rifle, but then he chose a “perfect lady” for a wife—a real Southern belle, who’s now expecting a baby. Heartbroken, Becky signs up to be a mail-order bride to a Seattle man, sight unseen. She resolves to squelch her hoydenish ways and become a “perfect lady” for her future husband.If logging-operation owner Isaac Jessup had wanted a bride, he’d have chosen a sturdy frontier woman, not some fragile lady from back East. Ready to explain the mistake, honorable Isaac takes one look into Rebecca’s vulnerable eyes...and knows he’ll marry her, even though this delicate waif is obviously unsuited for wild Seattle.Can an unexpected marriage ever be a match made in heaven?Book One in The Brides SeriesSweet Historical Western Romance / A Mail-Order Bride Novel***Excerpt***The lean-to was chilly and not for the first time, Isaac considered boarding it up proper and calling it a barn. He sat on the stool and began milking the goat, all the while mentally preparing for the worship service they planned to go to later that morning. The Scriptures he’d read first thing that morning were fresh in his mind, and his prayers kept returning to the problem of Rebecca. One inner voice urged him to send her back home, but another voice spoke of commitment. He’d said vows before God to love and keep her till death do them part. Those weren’t words he was willing to dismiss lightly.“What’s her name?” His wife’s voice was suddenly in his ear, quite close.Isaac jumped. The goat bleated at him.“Sorry, girl.” He patted her side and resumed milking her with slow, careful hands. He glanced over his shoulder toward the subject of his thoughts.Rebecca stood watching him, leaning over the rail and peering in at them with curious eyes. He was surprised to see her out this early. She usually left him to his morning chores, and most times he’d get back inside the cabin and find her already up preparing breakfast.“What’s her name?” she repeated.“Name? The goat?” He looked at the goat dumbly. It was a goat. He’d never gotten much further than that. She gave them a daily supply of milk, but other than that she was generally a nuisance. She liked to butt down the stall door. And whenever she got loose, she’d eat what few vegetables he was able to grow in the summer. She also liked to nip at his shirts and underthings when he hung them out on the line—if he was lucky. Most times she’d tug the whole line down and drag it through the mud.“Yes, the goat,” Rebecca said, a pleasant-sounding smile in her voice. “Don’t tell me she hasn’t got a name?”There was something nice about hearing a woman’s voice in the morning. It reminded him a little of when he was young, and his mother had chatted with him in soft tones while they ate breakfast. As if speaking too loud would jar them too quickly out of whatever dreams they’d had the night before.Rebecca’s soft voice put him much in mind of those times.“All right. I won’t.” Isaac focused on his milking.“She doesn’t have a name?” Rebecca pressed. “How can you have an animal that doesn’t have a name?”“Never gave it much thought. She’s good for milk, but other than that she’s nothing but trouble, always munching on the laundry.”“Well, then I think your choice is clear. Either you call her Milky or you call her Trouble.” Her teasing tone brought a reluctant smile to his lips.“Well, then, if I have to choose, then I guess she’s Trouble.” The real Trouble was standing behind him, her elbow propped against the top of the rail, her chin cupped in one dainty hand.***

    A pioneer woman bent on fulfilling a dream. Until their paths collide. After fleeing her abusive uncle, Anna is determined to reach the city of her dreams. But White Eagle and his fierce warriors take her prisoner. Anna attempts a harrowing escape, but her savage captor is determined to have her at all costs and forces her to be his wife. Has God forgotten her, or does He have plans of His own? A man with a boot in one world and a moccasin in the other, White Eagle is disillusioned with his faith after a minister leads a massacre on his peaceful tribe. Where is his God? He s definitely not with the white men who are slaughtering his people. But White Eagle also can t give in to the idolatry practiced by his fellow tribesmen. Only the Truth can set him free. And it s found in beautiful Anna s carpetbag.

    When their pursuit leads them to Mira's village, only her father's bond servant, Ari, a man shrouded in secrets, can keep Mira safe.Abandoning his life as a temple guard and becoming an indentured servant was the only way Ari could protect young Joash, the true King of Judah, from Queen Athaliah. But his sacred duty prevents him from confessing his feelings for his master's daughter. With the future of their nation on the line, Ari and Mira will risk everything to save their people.