#MFRWauthor Linda Carroll-Bradd, as a young girl, was often found lying on her bed reading about fascinating characters having exciting adventures in places far away and in other time periods. In later years, she read and then started writing romances and achieved her first publication--a confession story. Married with 4 adult children and 2 granddaughters, Linda now writes heartwarming contemporary and historical stories with a touch of humor and a bit of sass from her home in the southern California mountains.
Ione's Dilemma,
Book 8 of Grandma's Wedding Quilts
Genre: historical
Blurb
When Ione Forrester calls off her wedding, she becomes the social pariah of Des Moines. Much to her society parents’ chagrin. To escape the gossip, Ione accepts a teaching job in Dorado, Texas, vowing to avoid scandal at all costs. Relocating from a doctor’s household with cook and maids to a room in a boarding house is quite an adjustment. Then she has to face her biggest challenge—a schoolhouse full of students.
Carpenter Morgan Shipley’s business is doing well and now he’s looking for companionship. An ad for a mail-order bride brings a deluge of letters, which prove more than he can handle. To his surprise, an intriguing woman from a big city arrives in his small Texas town. Correspondence is nothing like interacting with a flesh-and-blood woman every day. But gossip-leery Ione wants nothing to do with Morgan’s attempts at courting, which makes him try even harder.
Buy link: Amazon
13 sentences from Ione's Dilemma
“Some tradespeople can be difficult with someone of your age.”
“Age has nothing to do with why I didn’t go.” She extended her hands, palms up, in front of her body. “I am calling off the wedding.”
“What?” Viola screeched, and the teacup slid onto the upholstered davenport.
Wincing at her mother’s most unladylike shriek, Ione lifted her chin. I cannot waver. What I witnessed was unacceptable. She squared her shoulders. “I will not be marrying Bradford Whittington the Third this Sunday or any Sunday.”
With a moan, Viola slumped to the side in a dead faint, her body covering the cup.
If only I could escape so easily into such blessed oblivion.
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